summaryrefslogtreecommitdiff
path: root/586-h/586-h.htm
blob: 4722d5d6171fec1f3dc03084061ce23784ab163e (plain) 
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505
506
507
508
509
510
511
512
513
514
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525
526
527
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602
603
604
605
606
607
608
609
610
611
612
613
614
615
616
617
618
619
620
621
622
623
624
625
626
627
628
629
630
631
632
633
634
635
636
637
638
639
640
641
642
643
644
645
646
647
648
649
650
651
652
653
654
655
656
657
658
659
660
661
662
663
664
665
666
667
668
669
670
671
672
673
674
675
676
677
678
679
680
681
682
683
684
685
686
687
688
689
690
691
692
693
694
695
696
697
698
699
700
701
702
703
704
705
706
707
708
709
710
711
712
713
714
715
716
717
718
719
720
721
722
723
724
725
726
727
728
729
730
731
732
733
734
735
736
737
738
739
740
741
742
743
744
745
746
747
748
749
750
751
752
753
754
755
756
757
758
759
760
761
762
763
764
765
766
767
768
769
770
771
772
773
774
775
776
777
778
779
780
781
782
783
784
785
786
787
788
789
790
791
792
793
794
795
796
797
798
799
800
801
802
803
804
805
806
807
808
809
810
811
812
813
814
815
816
817
818
819
820
821
822
823
824
825
826
827
828
829
830
831
832
833
834
835
836
837
838
839
840
841
842
843
844
845
846
847
848
849
850
851
852
853
854
855
856
857
858
859
860
861
862
863
864
865
866
867
868
869
870
871
872
873
874
875
876
877
878
879
880
881
882
883
884
885
886
887
888
889
890
891
892
893
894
895
896
897
898
899
900
901
902
903
904
905
906
907
908
909
910
911
912
913
914
915
916
917
918
919
920
921
922
923
924
925
926
927
928
929
930
931
932
933
934
935
936
937
938
939
940
941
942
943
944
945
946
947
948
949
950
951
952
953
954
955
956
957
958
959
960
961
962
963
964
965
966
967
968
969
970
971
972
973
974
975
976
977
978
979
980
981
982
983
984
985
986
987
988
989
990
991
992
993
994
995
996
997
998
999
1000
1001
1002
1003
1004
1005
1006
1007
1008
1009
1010
1011
1012
1013
1014
1015
1016
1017
1018
1019
1020
1021
1022
1023
1024
1025
1026
1027
1028
1029
1030
1031
1032
1033
1034
1035
1036
1037
1038
1039
1040
1041
1042
1043
1044
1045
1046
1047
1048
1049
1050
1051
1052
1053
1054
1055
1056
1057
1058
1059
1060
1061
1062
1063
1064
1065
1066
1067
1068
1069
1070
1071
1072
1073
1074
1075
1076
1077
1078
1079
1080
1081
1082
1083
1084
1085
1086
1087
1088
1089
1090
1091
1092
1093
1094
1095
1096
1097
1098
1099
1100
1101
1102
1103
1104
1105
1106
1107
1108
1109
1110
1111
1112
1113
1114
1115
1116
1117
1118
1119
1120
1121
1122
1123
1124
1125
1126
1127
1128
1129
1130
1131
1132
1133
1134
1135
1136
1137
1138
1139
1140
1141
1142
1143
1144
1145
1146
1147
1148
1149
1150
1151
1152
1153
1154
1155
1156
1157
1158
1159
1160
1161
1162
1163
1164
1165
1166
1167
1168
1169
1170
1171
1172
1173
1174
1175
1176
1177
1178
1179
1180
1181
1182
1183
1184
1185
1186
1187
1188
1189
1190
1191
1192
1193
1194
1195
1196
1197
1198
1199
1200
1201
1202
1203
1204
1205
1206
1207
1208
1209
1210
1211
1212
1213
1214
1215
1216
1217
1218
1219
1220
1221
1222
1223
1224
1225
1226
1227
1228
1229
1230
1231
1232
1233
1234
1235
1236
1237
1238
1239
1240
1241
1242
1243
1244
1245
1246
1247
1248
1249
1250
1251
1252
1253
1254
1255
1256
1257
1258
1259
1260
1261
1262
1263
1264
1265
1266
1267
1268
1269
1270
1271
1272
1273
1274
1275
1276
1277
1278
1279
1280
1281
1282
1283
1284
1285
1286
1287
1288
1289
1290
1291
1292
1293
1294
1295
1296
1297
1298
1299
1300
1301
1302
1303
1304
1305
1306
1307
1308
1309
1310
1311
1312
1313
1314
1315
1316
1317
1318
1319
1320
1321
1322
1323
1324
1325
1326
1327
1328
1329
1330
1331
1332
1333
1334
1335
1336
1337
1338
1339
1340
1341
1342
1343
1344
1345
1346
1347
1348
1349
1350
1351
1352
1353
1354
1355
1356
1357
1358
1359
1360
1361
1362
1363
1364
1365
1366
1367
1368
1369
1370
1371
1372
1373
1374
1375
1376
1377
1378
1379
1380
1381
1382
1383
1384
1385
1386
1387
1388
1389
1390
1391
1392
1393
1394
1395
1396
1397
1398
1399
1400
1401
1402
1403
1404
1405
1406
1407
1408
1409
1410
1411
1412
1413
1414
1415
1416
1417
1418
1419
1420
1421
1422
1423
1424
1425
1426
1427
1428
1429
1430
1431
1432
1433
1434
1435
1436
1437
1438
1439
1440
1441
1442
1443
1444
1445
1446
1447
1448
1449
1450
1451
1452
1453
1454
1455
1456
1457
1458
1459
1460
1461
1462
1463
1464
1465
1466
1467
1468
1469
1470
1471
1472
1473
1474
1475
1476
1477
1478
1479
1480
1481
1482
1483
1484
1485
1486
1487
1488
1489
1490
1491
1492
1493
1494
1495
1496
1497
1498
1499
1500
1501
1502
1503
1504
1505
1506
1507
1508
1509
1510
1511
1512
1513
1514
1515
1516
1517
1518
1519
1520
1521
1522
1523
1524
1525
1526
1527
1528
1529
1530
1531
1532
1533
1534
1535
1536
1537
1538
1539
1540
1541
1542
1543
1544
1545
1546
1547
1548
1549
1550
1551
1552
1553
1554
1555
1556
1557
1558
1559
1560
1561
1562
1563
1564
1565
1566
1567
1568
1569
1570
1571
1572
1573
1574
1575
1576
1577
1578
1579
1580
1581
1582
1583
1584
1585
1586
1587
1588
1589
1590
1591
1592
1593
1594
1595
1596
1597
1598
1599
1600
1601
1602
1603
1604
1605
1606
1607
1608
1609
1610
1611
1612
1613
1614
1615
1616
1617
1618
1619
1620
1621
1622
1623
1624
1625
1626
1627
1628
1629
1630
1631
1632
1633
1634
1635
1636
1637
1638
1639
1640
1641
1642
1643
1644
1645
1646
1647
1648
1649
1650
1651
1652
1653
1654
1655
1656
1657
1658
1659
1660
1661
1662
1663
1664
1665
1666
1667
1668
1669
1670
1671
1672
1673
1674
1675
1676
1677
1678
1679
1680
1681
1682
1683
1684
1685
1686
1687
1688
1689
1690
1691
1692
1693
1694
1695
1696
1697
1698
1699
1700
1701
1702
1703
1704
1705
1706
1707
1708
1709
1710
1711
1712
1713
1714
1715
1716
1717
1718
1719
1720
1721
1722
1723
1724
1725
1726
1727
1728
1729
1730
1731
1732
1733
1734
1735
1736
1737
1738
1739
1740
1741
1742
1743
1744
1745
1746
1747
1748
1749
1750
1751
1752
1753
1754
1755
1756
1757
1758
1759
1760
1761
1762
1763
1764
1765
1766
1767
1768
1769
1770
1771
1772
1773
1774
1775
1776
1777
1778
1779
1780
1781
1782
1783
1784
1785
1786
1787
1788
1789
1790
1791
1792
1793
1794
1795
1796
1797
1798
1799
1800
1801
1802
1803
1804
1805
1806
1807
1808
1809
1810
1811
1812
1813
1814
1815
1816
1817
1818
1819
1820
1821
1822
1823
1824
1825
1826
1827
1828
1829
1830
1831
1832
1833
1834
1835
1836
1837
1838
1839
1840
1841
1842
1843
1844
1845
1846
1847
1848
1849
1850
1851
1852
1853
1854
1855
1856
1857
1858
1859
1860
1861
1862
1863
1864
1865
1866
1867
1868
1869
1870
1871
1872
1873
1874
1875
1876
1877
1878
1879
1880
1881
1882
1883
1884
1885
1886
1887
1888
1889
1890
1891
1892
1893
1894
1895
1896
1897
1898
1899
1900
1901
1902
1903
1904
1905
1906
1907
1908
1909
1910
1911
1912
1913
1914
1915
1916
1917
1918
1919
1920
1921
1922
1923
1924
1925
1926
1927
1928
1929
1930
1931
1932
1933
1934
1935
1936
1937
1938
1939
1940
1941
1942
1943
1944
1945
1946
1947
1948
1949
1950
1951
1952
1953
1954
1955
1956
1957
1958
1959
1960
1961
1962
1963
1964
1965
1966
1967
1968
1969
1970
1971
1972
1973
1974
1975
1976
1977
1978
1979
1980
1981
1982
1983
1984
1985
1986
1987
1988
1989
1990
1991
1992
1993
1994
1995
1996
1997
1998
1999
2000
2001
2002
2003
2004
2005
2006
2007
2008
2009
2010
2011
2012
2013
2014
2015
2016
2017
2018
2019
2020
2021
2022
2023
2024
2025
2026
2027
2028
2029
2030
2031
2032
2033
2034
2035
2036
2037
2038
2039
2040
2041
2042
2043
2044
2045
2046
2047
2048
2049
2050
2051
2052
2053
2054
2055
2056
2057
2058
2059
2060
2061
2062
2063
2064
2065
2066
2067
2068
2069
2070
2071
2072
2073
2074
2075
2076
2077
2078
2079
2080
2081
2082
2083
2084
2085
2086
2087
2088
2089
2090
2091
2092
2093
2094
2095
2096
2097
2098
2099
2100
2101
2102
2103
2104
2105
2106
2107
2108
2109
2110
2111
2112
2113
2114
2115
2116
2117
2118
2119
2120
2121
2122
2123
2124
2125
2126
2127
2128
2129
2130
2131
2132
2133
2134
2135
2136
2137
2138
2139
2140
2141
2142
2143
2144
2145
2146
2147
2148
2149
2150
2151
2152
2153
2154
2155
2156
2157
2158
2159
2160
2161
2162
2163
2164
2165
2166
2167
2168
2169
2170
2171
2172
2173
2174
2175
2176
2177
2178
2179
2180
2181
2182
2183
2184
2185
2186
2187
2188
2189
2190
2191
2192
2193
2194
2195
2196
2197
2198
2199
2200
2201
2202
2203
2204
2205
2206
2207
2208
2209
2210
2211
2212
2213
2214
2215
2216
2217
2218
2219
2220
2221
2222
2223
2224
2225
2226
2227
2228
2229
2230
2231
2232
2233
2234
2235
2236
2237
2238
2239
2240
2241
2242
2243
2244
2245
2246
2247
2248
2249
2250
2251
2252
2253
2254
2255
2256
2257
2258
2259
2260
2261
2262
2263
2264
2265
2266
2267
2268
2269
2270
2271
2272
2273
2274
2275
2276
2277
2278
2279
2280
2281
2282
2283
2284
2285
2286
2287
2288
2289
2290
2291
2292
2293
2294
2295
2296
2297
2298
2299
2300
2301
2302
2303
2304
2305
2306
2307
2308
2309
2310
2311
2312
2313
2314
2315
2316
2317
2318
2319
2320
2321
2322
2323
2324
2325
2326
2327
2328
2329
2330
2331
2332
2333
2334
2335
2336
2337
2338
2339
2340
2341
2342
2343
2344
2345
2346
2347
2348
2349
2350
2351
2352
2353
2354
2355
2356
2357
2358
2359
2360
2361
2362
2363
2364
2365
2366
2367
2368
2369
2370
2371
2372
2373
2374
2375
2376
2377
2378
2379
2380
2381
2382
2383
2384
2385
2386
2387
2388
2389
2390
2391
2392
2393
2394
2395
2396
2397
2398
2399
2400
2401
2402
2403
2404
2405
2406
2407
2408
2409
2410
2411
2412
2413
2414
2415
2416
2417
2418
2419
2420
2421
2422
2423
2424
2425
2426
2427
2428
2429
2430
2431
2432
2433
2434
2435
2436
2437
2438
2439
2440
2441
2442
2443
2444
2445
2446
2447
2448
2449
2450
2451
2452
2453
2454
2455
2456
2457
2458
2459
2460
2461
2462
2463
2464
2465
2466
2467
2468
2469
2470
2471
2472
2473
2474
2475
2476
2477
2478
2479
2480
2481
2482
2483
2484
2485
2486
2487
2488
2489
2490
2491
2492
2493
2494
2495
2496
2497
2498
2499
2500
2501
2502
2503
2504
2505
2506
2507
2508
2509
2510
2511
2512
2513
2514
2515
2516
2517
2518
2519
2520
2521
2522
2523
2524
2525
2526
2527
2528
2529
2530
2531
2532
2533
2534
2535
2536
2537
2538
2539
2540
2541
2542
2543
2544
2545
2546
2547
2548
2549
2550
2551
2552
2553
2554
2555
2556
2557
2558
2559
2560
2561
2562
2563
2564
2565
2566
2567
2568
2569
2570
2571
2572
2573
2574
2575
2576
2577
2578
2579
2580
2581
2582
2583
2584
2585
2586
2587
2588
2589
2590
2591
2592
2593
2594
2595
2596
2597
2598
2599
2600
2601
2602
2603
2604
2605
2606
2607
2608
2609
2610
2611
2612
2613
2614
2615
2616
2617
2618
2619
2620
2621
2622
2623
2624
2625
2626
2627
2628
2629
2630
2631
2632
2633
2634
2635
2636
2637
2638
2639
2640
2641
2642
2643
2644
2645
2646
2647
2648
2649
2650
2651
2652
2653
2654
2655
2656
2657
2658
2659
2660
2661
2662
2663
2664
2665
2666
2667
2668
2669
2670
2671
2672
2673
2674
2675
2676
2677
2678
2679
2680
2681
2682
2683
2684
2685
2686
2687
2688
2689
2690
2691
2692
2693
2694
2695
2696
2697
2698
2699
2700
2701
2702
2703
2704
2705
2706
2707
2708
2709
2710
2711
2712
2713
2714
2715
2716
2717
2718
2719
2720
2721
2722
2723
2724
2725
2726
2727
2728
2729
2730
2731
2732
2733
2734
2735
2736
2737
2738
2739
2740
2741
2742
2743
2744
2745
2746
2747
2748
2749
2750
2751
2752
2753
2754
2755
2756
2757
2758
2759
2760
2761
2762
2763
2764
2765
2766
2767
2768
2769
2770
2771
2772
2773
2774
2775
2776
2777
2778
2779
2780
2781
2782
2783
2784
2785
2786
2787
2788
2789
2790
2791
2792
2793
2794
2795
2796
2797
2798
2799
2800
2801
2802
2803
2804
2805
2806
2807
2808
2809
2810
2811
2812
2813
2814
2815
2816
2817
2818
2819
2820
2821
2822
2823
2824
2825
2826
2827
2828
2829
2830
2831
2832
2833
2834
2835
2836
2837
2838
2839
2840
2841
2842
2843
2844
2845
2846
2847
2848
2849
2850
2851
2852
2853
2854
2855
2856
2857
2858
2859
2860
2861
2862
2863
2864
2865
2866
2867
2868
2869
2870
2871
2872
2873
2874
2875
2876
2877
2878
2879
2880
2881
2882
2883
2884
2885
2886
2887
2888
2889
2890
2891
2892
2893
2894
2895
2896
2897
2898
2899
2900
2901
2902
2903
2904
2905
2906
2907
2908
2909
2910
2911
2912
2913
2914
2915
2916
2917
2918
2919
2920
2921
2922
2923
2924
2925
2926
2927
2928
2929
2930
2931
2932
2933
2934
2935
2936
2937
2938
2939
2940
2941
2942
2943
2944
2945
2946
2947
2948
2949
2950
2951
2952
2953
2954
2955
2956
2957
2958
2959
2960
2961
2962
2963
2964
2965
2966
2967
2968
2969
2970
2971
2972
2973
2974
2975
2976
2977
2978
2979
2980
2981
2982
2983
2984
2985
2986
2987
2988
2989
2990
2991
2992
2993
2994
2995
2996
2997
2998
2999
3000
3001
3002
3003
3004
3005
3006
3007
3008
3009
3010
3011
3012
3013
3014
3015
3016
3017
3018
3019
3020
3021
3022
3023
3024
3025
3026
3027
3028
3029
3030
3031
3032
3033
3034
3035
3036
3037
3038
3039
3040
3041
3042
3043
3044
3045
3046
3047
3048
3049
3050
3051
3052
3053
3054
3055
3056
3057
3058
3059
3060
3061
3062
3063
3064
3065
3066
3067
3068
3069
3070
3071
3072
3073
3074
3075
3076
3077
3078
3079
3080
3081
3082
3083
3084
3085
3086
3087
3088
3089
3090
3091
3092
3093
3094
3095
3096
3097
3098
3099
3100
3101
3102
3103
3104
3105
3106
3107
3108
3109
3110
3111
3112
3113
3114
3115
3116
3117
3118
3119
3120
3121
3122
3123
3124
3125
3126
3127
3128
3129
3130
3131
3132
3133
3134
3135
3136
3137
3138
3139
3140
3141
3142
3143
3144
3145
3146
3147
3148
3149
3150
3151
3152
3153
3154
3155
3156
3157
3158
3159
3160
3161
3162
3163
3164
3165
3166
3167
3168
3169
3170
3171
3172
3173
3174
3175
3176
3177
3178
3179
3180
3181
3182
3183
3184
3185
3186
3187
3188
3189
3190
3191
3192
3193
3194
3195
3196
3197
3198
3199
3200
3201
3202
3203
3204
3205
3206
3207
3208
3209
3210
3211
3212
3213
3214
3215
3216
3217
3218
3219
3220
3221
3222
3223
3224
3225
3226
3227
3228
3229
3230
3231
3232
3233
3234
3235
3236
3237
3238
3239
3240
3241
3242
3243
3244
3245
3246
3247
3248
3249
3250
3251
3252
3253
3254
3255
3256
3257
3258
3259
3260
3261
3262
3263
3264
3265
3266
3267
3268
3269
3270
3271
3272
3273
3274
3275
3276
3277
3278
3279
3280
3281
3282
3283
3284
3285
3286
3287
3288
3289
3290
3291
3292
3293
3294
3295
3296
3297
3298
3299
3300
3301
3302
3303
3304
3305
3306
3307
3308
3309
3310
3311
3312
3313
3314
3315
3316
3317
3318
3319
3320
3321
3322
3323
3324
3325
3326
3327
3328
3329
3330
3331
3332
3333
3334
3335
3336
3337
3338
3339
3340
3341
3342
3343
3344
3345
3346
3347
3348
3349
3350
3351
3352
3353
3354
3355
3356
3357
3358
3359
3360
3361
3362
3363
3364
3365
3366
3367
3368
3369
3370
3371
3372
3373
3374
3375
3376
3377
3378
3379
3380
3381
3382
3383
3384
3385
3386
3387
3388
3389
3390
3391
3392
3393
3394
3395
3396
3397
3398
3399
3400
3401
3402
3403
3404
3405
3406
3407
3408
3409
3410
3411
3412
3413
3414
3415
3416
3417
3418
3419
3420
3421
3422
3423
3424
3425
3426
3427
3428
3429
3430
3431
3432
3433
3434
3435
3436
3437
3438
3439
3440
3441
3442
3443
3444
3445
3446
3447
3448
3449
3450
3451
3452
3453
3454
3455
3456
3457
3458
3459
3460
3461
3462
3463
3464
3465
3466
3467
3468
3469
3470
3471
3472
3473
3474
3475
3476
3477
3478
3479
3480
3481
3482
3483
3484
3485
3486
3487
3488
3489
3490
3491
3492
3493
3494
3495
3496
3497
3498
3499
3500
3501
3502
3503
3504
3505
3506
3507
3508
3509
3510
3511
3512
3513
3514
3515
3516
3517
3518
3519
3520
3521
3522
3523
3524
3525
3526
3527
3528
3529
3530
3531
3532
3533
3534
3535
3536
3537
3538
3539
3540
3541
3542
3543
3544
3545
3546
3547
3548
3549
3550
3551
3552
3553
3554
3555
3556
3557
3558
3559
3560
3561
3562
3563
3564
3565
3566
3567
3568
3569
3570
3571
3572
3573
3574
3575
3576
3577
3578
3579
3580
3581
3582
3583
3584
3585
3586
3587
3588
3589
3590
3591
3592
3593
3594
3595
3596
3597
3598
3599
3600
3601
3602
3603
3604
3605
3606
3607
3608
3609
3610
3611
3612
3613
3614
3615
3616
3617
3618
3619
3620
3621
3622
3623
3624
3625
3626
3627
3628
3629
3630
3631
3632
3633
3634
3635
3636
3637
3638
3639
3640
3641
3642
3643
3644
3645
3646
3647
3648
3649
3650
3651
3652
3653
3654
3655
3656
3657
3658
3659
3660
3661
3662
3663
3664
3665
3666
3667
3668
3669
3670
3671
3672
3673
3674
3675
3676
3677
3678
3679
3680
3681
3682
3683
3684
3685
3686
3687
3688
3689
3690
3691
3692
3693
3694
3695
3696
3697
3698
3699
3700
3701
3702
3703
3704
3705
3706
3707
3708
3709
3710
3711
3712
3713
3714
3715
3716
3717
3718
3719
3720
3721
3722
3723
3724
3725
3726
3727
3728
3729
3730
3731
3732
3733
3734
3735
3736
3737
3738
3739
3740
3741
3742
3743
3744
3745
3746
3747
3748
3749
3750
3751
3752
3753
3754
3755
3756
3757
3758
3759
3760
3761
3762
3763
3764
3765
3766
3767
3768
3769
3770
3771
3772
3773
3774
3775
3776
3777
3778
3779
3780
3781
3782
3783
3784
3785
3786
3787
3788
3789
3790
3791
3792
3793
3794
3795
3796
3797
3798
3799
3800
3801
3802
3803
3804
3805
3806
3807
3808
3809
3810
3811
3812
3813
3814
3815
3816
3817
3818
3819
3820
3821
3822
3823
3824
3825
3826
3827
3828
3829
3830
3831
3832
3833
3834
3835
3836
3837
3838
3839
3840
3841
3842
3843
3844
3845
3846
3847
3848
3849
3850
3851
3852
3853
3854
3855
3856
3857
3858
3859
3860
3861
3862
3863
3864
3865
3866
3867
3868
3869
3870
3871
3872
3873
3874
3875
3876
3877
3878
3879
3880
3881
3882
3883
3884
3885
3886
3887
3888
3889
3890
3891
3892
3893
3894
3895
3896
3897
3898
3899
3900
3901
3902
3903
3904
3905
3906
3907
3908
3909
3910
3911
3912
3913
3914
3915
3916
3917
3918
3919
3920
3921
3922
3923
3924
3925
3926
3927
3928
3929
3930
3931
3932
3933
3934
3935
3936
3937
3938
3939
3940
3941
3942
3943
3944
3945
3946
3947
3948
3949
3950
3951
3952
3953
3954
3955
3956
3957
3958
3959
3960
3961
3962
3963
3964
3965
3966
3967
3968
3969
3970
3971
3972
3973
3974
3975
3976
3977
3978
3979
3980
3981
3982
3983
3984
3985
3986
3987
3988
3989
3990
3991
3992
3993
3994
3995
3996
3997
3998
3999
4000
4001
4002
4003
4004
4005
4006
4007
4008
4009
4010
4011
4012
4013
4014
4015
4016
4017
4018
4019
4020
4021
4022
4023
4024
4025
4026
4027
4028
4029
4030
4031
4032
4033
4034
4035
4036
4037
4038
4039
4040
4041
4042
4043
4044
4045
4046
4047
4048
4049
4050
4051
4052
4053
4054
4055
4056
4057
4058
4059
4060
4061
4062
4063
4064
4065
4066
4067
4068
4069
4070
4071
4072
4073
4074
4075
4076
4077
4078
4079
4080
4081
4082
4083
4084
4085
4086
4087
4088
4089
4090
4091
4092
4093
4094
4095
4096
4097
4098
4099
4100
4101
4102
4103
4104
4105
4106
4107
4108
4109
4110
4111
4112
4113
4114
4115
4116
4117
4118
4119
4120
4121
4122
4123
4124
4125
4126
4127
4128
4129
4130
4131
4132
4133
4134
4135
4136
4137
4138
4139
4140
4141
4142
4143
4144
4145
4146
4147
4148
4149
4150
4151
4152
4153
4154
4155
4156
4157
4158
4159
4160
4161
4162
4163
4164
4165
4166
4167
4168
4169
4170
4171
4172
4173
4174
4175
4176
4177
4178
4179
4180
4181
4182
4183
4184
4185
4186
4187
4188
4189
4190
4191
4192
4193
4194
4195
4196
4197
4198
4199
4200
4201
4202
4203
4204
4205
4206
4207
4208
4209
4210
4211
4212
4213
4214
4215
4216
4217
4218
4219
4220
4221
4222
4223
4224
4225
4226
4227
4228
4229
4230
4231
4232
4233
4234
4235
4236
4237
4238
4239
4240
4241
4242
4243
4244
4245
4246
4247
4248
4249
4250
4251
4252
4253
4254
4255
4256
4257
4258
4259
4260
4261
4262
4263
4264
4265
4266
4267
4268
4269
4270
4271
4272
4273
4274
4275
4276
4277
4278
4279
4280
4281
4282
4283
4284
4285
4286
4287
4288
4289
4290
4291
4292
4293
4294
4295
4296
4297
4298
4299
4300
4301
4302
4303
4304
4305
4306
4307
4308
4309
4310
4311
4312
4313
4314
4315
4316
4317
4318
4319
4320
4321
4322
4323
4324
4325
4326
4327
4328
4329
4330
4331
4332
4333
4334
4335
4336
4337
4338
4339
4340
4341
4342
4343
4344
4345
4346
4347
4348
4349
4350
4351
4352
4353
4354
4355
4356
4357
4358
4359
4360
4361
4362
4363
4364
4365
4366
4367
4368
4369
4370
4371
4372
4373
4374
4375
4376
4377
4378
4379
4380
4381
4382
4383
4384
4385
4386
4387
4388
4389
4390
4391
4392
4393
4394
4395
4396
4397
4398
4399
4400
4401
4402
4403
4404
4405
4406
4407
4408
4409
4410
4411
4412
4413
4414
4415
4416
4417
4418
4419
4420
4421
4422
4423
4424
4425
4426
4427
4428
4429
4430
4431
4432
4433
4434
4435
4436
4437
4438
4439
4440
4441
4442
4443
4444
4445
4446
4447
4448
4449
4450
4451
4452
4453
4454
4455
4456
4457
4458
4459
4460
4461
4462
4463
4464
4465
4466
4467
4468
4469
4470
4471
4472
4473
4474
4475
4476
4477
4478
4479
4480
4481
4482
4483
4484
4485
4486
4487
4488
4489
4490
4491
4492
4493
4494
4495
4496
4497
4498
4499
4500
4501
4502
4503
4504
4505
4506
4507
4508
4509
4510
4511
4512
4513
4514
4515
4516
4517
4518
4519
4520
4521
4522
4523
4524
4525
4526
4527
4528
4529
4530
4531
4532
4533
4534
4535
4536
4537
4538
4539
4540
4541
4542
4543
4544
4545
4546
4547
4548
4549
4550
4551
4552
4553
4554
4555
4556
4557
4558
4559
4560
4561
4562
4563
4564
4565
4566
4567
4568
4569
4570
4571
4572
4573
4574
4575
4576
4577
4578
4579
4580
4581
4582
4583
4584
4585
4586
4587
4588
4589
4590
4591
4592
4593
4594
4595
4596
4597
4598
4599
4600
4601
4602
4603
4604
4605
4606
4607
4608
4609
4610
4611
4612
4613
4614
4615
4616
4617
4618
4619
4620
4621
4622
4623
4624
4625
4626
4627
4628
4629
4630
4631
4632
4633
4634
4635
4636
4637
4638
4639
4640
4641
4642
4643
4644
4645
4646
4647
4648
4649
4650
4651
4652
4653
4654
4655
4656
4657
4658
4659
4660
4661
4662
4663
4664
4665
4666
4667
4668
4669
4670
4671
4672
4673
4674
4675
4676
4677
4678
4679
4680
4681
4682
4683
4684
4685
4686
4687
4688
4689
4690
4691
4692
4693
4694
4695
4696
4697
4698
4699
4700
4701
4702
4703
4704
4705
4706
4707
4708
4709
4710
4711
4712
4713
4714
4715
4716
4717
4718
4719
4720
4721
4722
4723
4724
4725
4726
4727
4728
4729
4730
4731
4732
4733
4734
4735
4736
4737
4738
4739
4740
4741
4742
4743
4744
4745
4746
4747
4748
4749
4750
4751
4752
4753
4754
4755
4756
4757
4758
4759
4760
4761
4762
4763
4764
4765
4766
4767
4768
4769
4770
4771
4772
4773
4774
4775
4776
4777
4778
4779
4780
4781
4782
4783
4784
4785
4786
4787
4788
4789
4790
4791
4792
4793
4794
4795
4796
4797
4798
4799
4800
4801
4802
4803
4804
4805
4806
4807
4808
4809
4810
4811
4812
4813
4814
4815
4816
4817
4818
4819
4820
4821
4822
4823
4824
4825
4826
4827
4828
4829
4830
4831
4832
4833
4834
4835
4836
4837
4838
4839
4840
4841
4842
4843
4844
4845
4846
4847
4848
4849
4850
4851
4852
4853
4854
4855
4856
4857
4858
4859
4860
4861
4862
4863
4864
4865
4866
4867
4868
4869
4870
4871
4872
4873
4874
4875
4876
4877
4878
4879
4880
4881
4882
4883
4884
4885
4886
4887
4888
4889
4890
4891
4892
4893
4894
4895
4896
4897
4898
4899
4900
4901
4902
4903
4904
4905
4906
4907
4908
4909
4910
4911
4912
4913
4914
4915
4916
4917
4918
4919
4920
4921
4922
4923
4924
4925
4926
4927
4928
4929
4930
4931
4932
4933
4934
4935
4936
4937
4938
4939
4940
4941
4942
4943
4944
4945
4946
4947
4948
4949
4950
4951
4952
4953
4954
4955
4956
4957
4958
4959
4960
4961
4962
4963
4964
4965
4966
4967
4968
4969
4970
4971
4972
4973
4974
4975
4976
4977
4978
4979
4980
4981
4982
4983
4984
4985
4986
4987
4988
4989
4990
4991
4992
4993
4994
4995
4996
4997
4998
4999
5000
5001
5002
5003
5004
5005
5006
5007
5008
5009
5010
5011
5012
5013
5014
5015
5016
5017
5018
5019
5020
5021
5022
5023
5024
5025
5026
5027
5028
5029
5030
5031
5032
5033
5034
5035
5036
5037
5038
5039
5040
5041
5042
5043
5044
5045
5046
5047
5048
5049
5050
5051
5052
5053
5054
5055
5056
5057
5058
5059
5060
5061
5062
5063
5064
5065
5066
5067
5068
5069
5070
5071
5072
5073
5074
5075
5076
5077
5078
5079
5080
5081
5082
5083
5084
5085
5086
5087
5088
5089
5090
5091
5092
5093
5094
5095
5096
5097
5098
5099
5100
5101
5102
5103
5104
5105
5106
5107
5108
5109
5110
5111
5112
5113
5114
5115
5116
5117
5118
5119
5120
5121
5122
5123
5124
5125
5126
5127
5128
5129
5130
5131
5132
5133
5134
5135
5136
5137
5138
5139
5140
5141
5142
5143
5144
5145
5146
5147
5148
5149
5150
5151
5152
5153
5154
5155
5156
5157
5158
5159
5160
5161
5162
5163
5164
5165
5166
5167
5168
5169
5170
5171
5172
5173
5174
5175
5176
5177
5178
5179
5180
5181
5182
5183
5184
5185
5186
5187
5188
5189
5190
5191
5192
5193
5194
5195
5196
5197
5198
5199
5200
5201
5202
5203
5204
5205
5206
5207
5208
5209
5210
5211
5212
5213
5214
5215
5216
5217
5218
5219
5220
5221
5222
5223
5224
5225
5226
5227
5228
5229
5230
5231
5232
5233
5234
5235
5236
5237
5238
5239
5240
5241
5242
5243
5244
5245
5246
5247
5248
5249
5250
5251
5252
5253
5254
5255
5256
5257
5258
5259
5260
5261
5262
5263
5264
5265
5266
5267
5268
5269
5270
5271
5272
5273
5274
5275
5276
5277
5278
5279
5280
5281
5282
5283
5284
5285
5286
5287
5288
5289
5290
5291
5292
5293
5294
5295
5296
5297
5298
5299
5300
5301
5302
5303
5304
5305
5306
5307
5308
5309
5310
5311
5312
5313
5314
5315
5316
5317
5318
5319
5320
5321
5322
5323
5324
5325
5326
5327
5328
5329
5330
5331
5332
5333
5334
5335
5336
5337
5338
5339
5340
5341
5342
5343
5344
5345
5346
5347
5348
5349
5350
5351
5352
5353
5354
5355
5356
5357
5358
5359
5360
5361
5362
5363
5364
5365
5366
5367
5368
5369
5370
5371
5372
5373
5374
5375
5376
5377
5378
5379
5380
5381
5382
5383
5384
5385
5386
5387
5388
5389
5390
5391
5392
5393
5394
5395
5396
5397
5398
5399
5400
5401
5402
5403
5404
5405
5406
5407
5408
5409
5410
5411
5412
5413
5414
5415
5416
5417
5418
5419
5420
5421
5422
5423
5424
5425
5426
5427
5428
5429
5430
5431
5432
5433
5434
5435
5436
5437
5438
5439
5440
5441
5442
5443
5444
5445
5446
5447
5448
5449
5450
5451
5452
5453
5454
5455
5456
5457
5458
5459
5460
5461
5462
5463
5464
5465
5466
5467
5468
5469
5470
5471
5472
5473
5474
5475
5476
5477
5478
5479
5480
5481
5482
5483
5484
5485
5486
5487
5488
5489
5490
5491
5492
5493
5494
5495
5496
5497
5498
5499
5500
5501
5502
5503
5504
5505
5506
5507
5508
5509
5510
5511
5512
5513
5514
5515
5516
5517
5518
5519
5520
5521
5522
5523
5524
5525
5526
5527
5528
5529
5530
5531
5532
5533
5534
5535
5536
5537
5538
5539
5540
5541
5542
5543
5544
5545
5546
5547
5548
5549
5550
5551
5552
5553
5554
5555
5556
5557
5558
5559
5560
5561
5562
5563
5564
5565
5566
5567
5568
5569
5570
5571
5572
5573
5574
5575
5576
5577
5578
5579
5580
5581
5582
5583
5584
5585
5586
5587
5588
5589
5590
5591
5592
5593
5594
5595
5596
5597
5598
5599
5600
5601
5602
5603
5604
5605
5606
5607
5608
5609
5610
5611
5612
5613
5614
5615
5616
5617
5618
5619
5620
5621
5622
5623
5624
5625
5626
5627
5628
5629
5630
5631
5632
5633
5634
5635
5636
5637
5638
5639
5640
5641
5642
5643
5644
5645
5646
5647
5648
5649
5650
5651
5652
5653
5654
5655
5656
5657
5658
5659
5660
5661
5662
5663
5664
5665
5666
5667
5668
5669
5670
5671
5672
5673
5674
5675
5676
5677
5678
5679
5680
5681
5682
5683
5684
5685
5686
5687
5688
5689
5690
5691
5692
5693
5694
5695
5696
5697
5698
5699
5700
5701
5702
5703
5704
5705
5706
5707
5708
5709
5710
5711
5712
5713
5714
5715
5716
5717
5718
5719
5720
5721
5722
5723
5724
5725
5726
5727
5728
5729
5730
5731
5732
5733
5734
5735
5736
5737
5738
5739
5740
5741
5742
5743
5744
5745
5746
5747
5748
5749
5750
5751
5752
5753
5754
5755
5756
5757
5758
5759
5760
5761
5762
5763
5764
5765
5766
5767
5768
5769
5770
5771
5772
5773
5774
5775
5776
5777
5778
5779
5780
5781
5782
5783
5784
5785
5786
5787
5788
5789
5790
5791
5792
5793
5794
5795
5796
5797
5798
5799
5800
5801
5802
5803
5804
5805
5806
5807
5808
5809
5810
5811
5812
5813
5814
5815
5816
5817
5818
5819
5820
5821
5822
5823
5824
5825
5826
5827
5828
5829
5830
5831
5832
5833
5834
5835
5836
5837
5838
5839
5840
5841
5842
5843
5844
5845
5846
5847
5848
5849
5850
5851
5852
5853
5854
5855
5856
5857
5858
5859
5860
5861
5862
5863
5864
5865
5866
5867
5868
5869
5870
5871
5872
5873
5874
5875
5876
5877
5878
5879
5880
5881
5882
5883
5884
5885
5886
5887
5888
5889
5890
5891
5892
5893
5894
5895
5896
5897
5898
5899
5900
5901
5902
5903
5904
5905
5906
5907
5908
5909
5910
5911
5912
5913
5914
5915
5916
5917
5918
5919
5920
5921
5922
5923
5924
5925
5926
5927
5928
5929
5930
5931
5932
5933
5934
5935
5936
5937
5938
5939
5940
5941
5942
5943
5944
5945
5946
5947
5948
5949
5950
5951
5952
5953
5954
5955
5956
5957
5958
5959
5960
5961
5962
5963
5964
5965
5966
5967
5968
5969
5970
5971
5972
5973
5974
5975
5976
5977
5978
5979
5980
5981
5982
5983
5984
5985
5986
5987
5988
5989
5990
5991
5992
5993
5994
5995
5996
5997
5998
5999
6000
6001
6002
6003
6004
6005
6006
6007
6008
6009
6010
6011
6012
6013
6014
6015
6016
6017
6018
6019
6020
6021
6022
6023
6024
6025
6026
6027
6028
6029
6030
6031
6032
6033
6034
6035
6036
6037
6038
6039
6040
6041
6042
6043
6044
6045
6046
6047
6048
6049
6050
6051
6052
6053
6054
6055
6056
6057
6058
6059
6060
6061
6062
6063
6064
6065
6066
6067
6068
6069
6070
6071
6072
6073
6074
6075
6076
6077
6078
6079
6080
6081
6082
6083
6084
6085
6086
6087
6088
6089
6090
6091
6092
6093
6094
6095
6096
6097
6098
6099
6100
6101
6102
6103
6104
6105
6106
6107
6108
6109
6110
6111
6112
6113
6114
6115
6116
6117
6118
6119
6120
6121
6122
6123
6124
6125
6126
6127
6128
6129
6130
6131
6132
6133
6134
6135
6136
6137
6138
6139
6140
6141
6142
6143
6144
6145
6146
6147
6148
6149
6150
6151
6152
6153
6154
6155
6156
6157
6158
6159
6160
6161
6162
6163
6164
6165
6166
6167
6168
6169
6170
6171
6172
6173
6174
6175
6176
6177
6178
6179
6180
6181
6182
6183
6184
6185
6186
6187
6188
6189
6190
6191
6192
6193
6194
6195
6196
6197
6198
6199
6200
6201
6202
6203
6204
6205
6206
6207
6208
6209
6210
6211
6212
6213
6214
6215
6216
6217
6218
6219
6220
6221
6222
6223
6224
6225
6226
6227
6228
6229
6230
6231
6232
6233
6234
6235
6236
6237
6238
6239
6240
6241
6242
6243
6244
6245
6246
6247
6248
6249
6250
6251
6252
6253
6254
6255
6256
6257
6258
6259
6260
6261
6262
6263
6264
6265
6266
6267
6268
6269
6270
6271
6272
6273
6274
6275
6276
6277
6278
6279
6280
6281
6282
6283
6284
6285
6286
6287
6288
6289
6290
6291
6292
6293
6294
6295
6296
6297
6298
6299
6300
6301
6302
6303
6304
6305
6306
6307
6308
6309
6310
6311
6312
6313
6314
6315
6316
6317
6318
6319
6320
6321
6322
6323
6324
6325
6326
6327
6328
6329
6330
6331
6332
6333
6334
6335
6336
6337
6338
6339
6340
6341
6342
6343
6344
6345
6346
6347
6348
6349
6350
6351
6352
6353
6354
6355
6356
6357
6358
6359
6360
6361
6362
6363
6364
6365
6366
6367
6368
6369
6370
6371
6372
6373
6374
6375
6376
6377
6378
6379
6380
6381
6382
6383
6384
6385
6386
6387
6388
6389
6390
6391
6392
6393
6394
6395
6396
6397
6398
6399
6400
6401
6402
6403
6404
6405
6406
6407
6408
6409
6410
6411
6412
6413
6414
6415
6416
6417
6418
6419
6420
6421
6422
6423
6424
6425
6426
6427
6428
6429
6430
6431
6432
6433
6434
6435
6436
6437
6438
6439
6440
6441
6442
6443
6444
6445
6446
6447
6448
6449
6450
6451
6452
6453
6454
6455
6456
6457
6458
6459
6460
6461
6462
6463
6464
6465
6466
6467
6468
6469
6470
6471
6472
6473
6474
6475
6476
6477
6478
6479
6480
6481
6482
6483
6484
6485
6486
6487
6488
6489
6490
6491
6492
6493
6494
6495
6496
6497
6498
6499
6500
6501
6502
6503
6504
6505
6506
6507
6508
6509
6510
6511
6512
6513
6514
6515
6516
6517
6518
6519
6520
6521
6522
6523
6524
6525
6526
6527
6528
6529
6530
6531
6532
6533
6534
6535
6536
6537
6538
6539
6540
6541
6542
6543
6544
6545
6546
6547
6548
6549
6550
6551
6552
6553
6554
6555
6556
6557
6558
6559
6560
6561
6562
6563
6564
6565
6566
6567
6568
6569
6570
6571
6572
6573
6574
6575
6576
6577
6578
6579
6580
6581
6582
6583
6584
6585
6586
6587
6588
6589
6590
6591
6592
6593
6594
6595
6596
6597
6598
6599
6600
6601
6602
6603
6604
6605
6606
6607
6608
6609
6610
6611
6612
6613
6614
6615
6616
6617
6618
6619
6620
6621
6622
6623
6624
6625
6626
6627
6628
6629
6630
6631
6632
6633
6634
6635
6636
6637
6638
6639
6640
6641
6642
6643
6644
6645
6646
6647
6648
6649
6650
6651
6652
6653
6654
6655
6656
6657
6658
6659
6660
6661
6662
6663
6664
6665
6666
6667
6668
6669
6670
6671
6672
6673
6674
6675
6676
6677
6678
6679
6680
6681
6682
6683
6684
6685
6686
6687
6688
6689
6690
6691
6692
6693
6694
6695
6696
6697
6698
6699
6700
6701
6702
6703
6704
6705
6706
6707
6708
6709
6710
6711
6712
6713
6714
6715
6716
6717
6718
6719
6720
6721
6722
6723
6724
6725
6726
6727
6728
6729
6730
6731
6732
6733
6734
6735
6736
6737
6738
6739
6740
6741
6742
6743
6744
6745
6746
6747
6748
6749
6750
6751
6752
6753
6754
6755
6756
6757
6758
6759
6760
6761
6762
6763
6764
6765
6766
6767
6768
6769
6770
6771
6772
6773
6774
6775
6776
6777
6778
6779
6780
6781
6782
6783
6784
6785
6786
6787
6788
6789
6790
6791
6792
6793
6794
6795
6796
6797
6798
6799
6800
6801
6802
6803
6804
6805
6806
6807
6808
6809
6810
6811
6812
6813
6814
6815
6816
6817
6818
6819
6820
6821
6822
6823
6824
6825
6826
6827
6828
6829
6830
6831
6832
6833
6834
6835
6836
6837
6838
6839
6840
6841
6842
6843
6844
6845
6846
6847
6848
6849
6850
6851
6852
6853
6854
6855
6856
6857
6858
6859
6860
6861
6862
6863
6864
6865
6866
6867
6868
6869
6870
6871
6872
6873
6874
6875
6876
6877
6878
6879
6880
6881
6882
6883
6884
6885
6886
6887
6888
6889
6890
6891
6892
6893
6894
6895
6896
6897
6898
6899
6900
6901
6902
6903
6904
6905
6906
6907
6908
6909
6910
6911
6912
6913
6914
6915
6916
6917
6918
6919
6920
6921
6922
6923
6924
6925
6926
6927
6928
6929
6930
6931
6932
6933
6934
6935
6936
6937
6938
6939
6940
6941
6942
6943
6944
6945
6946
6947
6948
6949
6950
6951
6952
6953
6954
6955
6956
6957
6958
6959
6960
6961
6962
6963
6964
6965
6966
6967
6968
6969
6970
6971
6972
6973
6974
6975
6976
6977
6978
6979
6980
6981
6982
6983
6984
6985
6986
6987
6988
6989
6990
6991
6992
6993
6994
6995
6996
6997
6998
6999
7000
7001
7002
7003
7004
7005
7006
7007
7008
7009
7010
7011
7012
7013
7014
7015
7016
7017
7018
7019
7020
7021
7022
7023
7024
7025
7026
7027
7028
7029
7030
7031
7032
7033
7034
7035
7036
7037
7038
7039
7040
7041
7042
7043
7044
7045
7046
7047
7048
7049
7050
7051
7052
7053
7054
7055
7056
7057
7058
7059
7060
7061
7062
7063
7064
7065
7066
7067
7068
7069
7070
7071
7072
7073
7074
7075
7076
7077
7078
7079
7080
7081
7082
7083
7084
7085
7086
7087
7088
7089
7090
7091
7092
7093
7094
7095
7096
7097
7098
7099
7100
7101
7102
7103
7104
7105
7106
7107
7108
7109
7110
7111
7112
7113
7114
7115
7116
7117
7118
7119
7120
7121
7122
7123
7124
7125
7126
7127
7128
7129
7130
7131
7132
7133
7134
7135
7136
7137
7138
7139
7140
7141
7142
7143
7144
7145
7146
7147
7148
7149
7150
7151
7152
7153
7154
7155
7156
7157
7158
7159
7160
7161
7162
7163
7164
7165
7166
7167
7168
7169
7170
7171
7172
7173
7174
7175
7176
7177
7178
7179
7180
7181
7182
7183
7184
7185
7186
7187
7188
7189
7190
7191
7192
7193
7194
7195
7196
7197
7198
7199
7200
7201
7202
7203
7204
7205
7206
7207
7208
7209
7210
7211
7212
7213
7214
7215
7216
7217
7218
7219
7220
7221
7222
7223
7224
7225
7226
7227
7228
7229
7230
7231
7232
7233
7234
7235
7236
7237
7238
7239
7240
7241
7242
7243
7244
7245
7246
7247
7248
7249
7250
7251
7252
7253
7254
7255
7256
7257
7258
7259
7260
7261
7262
7263
7264
7265
7266
7267
7268
7269
7270
7271
7272
7273
7274
7275
7276
7277
7278
7279
7280
7281
7282
7283
7284
7285
7286
7287
7288
7289
7290
7291
7292
7293
7294
7295
7296
7297
7298
7299
7300
7301
7302
7303
7304
7305
7306
7307
7308
7309
7310
7311
7312
7313
7314
7315
7316
7317
7318
7319
7320
7321
7322
7323
7324
7325
7326
7327
7328
7329
7330
7331
7332
7333
7334
7335
7336
7337
7338
7339
7340
7341
7342
7343
7344
7345
7346
7347
7348
7349
7350
7351
7352
7353
7354
7355
7356
7357
7358
7359
7360
7361
7362
7363
7364
7365
7366
7367
7368
7369
7370
7371
7372
7373
7374
7375
7376
7377
7378
7379
7380
7381
7382
7383
7384
7385
7386
7387
7388
7389
7390
7391
7392
7393
7394
7395
7396
7397
7398
7399
7400
7401
7402
7403
7404
7405
7406
7407
7408
7409
7410
7411
7412
7413
7414
7415
7416
7417
7418
7419
7420
7421
7422
7423
7424
7425
7426
7427
7428
7429
7430
7431
7432
7433
7434
7435
7436
7437
7438
7439
7440
7441
7442
7443
7444
7445
7446
7447
7448
7449
7450
7451
7452
7453
7454
7455
7456
7457
7458
7459
7460
7461
7462
7463
7464
7465
7466
7467
7468
7469
7470
7471
7472
7473
7474
7475
7476
7477
7478
7479
7480
7481
7482
7483
7484
7485
7486
7487
7488
7489
7490
7491
7492
7493
7494
7495
7496
7497
7498
7499
7500
7501
7502
7503
7504
7505
7506
7507
7508
7509
7510
7511
7512
7513
7514
7515
7516
7517
7518
7519
7520
7521
7522
7523
7524
7525
7526
7527
7528
7529
7530
7531
7532
7533
7534
7535
7536
7537
7538
7539
7540
7541
7542
7543
7544
7545
7546
7547
7548
7549
7550
7551
7552
7553
7554
7555
7556
7557
7558
7559
7560
7561
7562
7563
7564
7565
7566
7567
7568
7569
7570
7571
7572
7573
7574
7575
7576
7577
7578
7579
7580
7581
7582
7583
7584
7585
7586
7587
7588
7589
7590
7591
7592
7593
7594
7595
7596
7597
7598
7599
7600
7601
7602
7603
7604
7605
7606
7607
7608
7609
7610
7611
7612
7613
7614
7615
7616
7617
7618
7619
7620
7621
7622
7623
7624
7625
7626
7627
7628
7629
7630
7631
7632
7633
7634
7635
7636
7637
7638
7639
7640
7641
7642
7643
7644
7645
7646
7647
7648
7649
7650
7651
7652
7653
7654
7655
7656
7657
7658
7659
7660
7661
7662
7663
7664
7665
7666
7667
7668
7669
7670
7671
7672
7673
7674
7675
7676
7677
7678
7679
7680
7681
7682
7683
7684
7685
7686
7687
7688
7689
7690
7691
7692
7693
7694
7695
7696
7697
7698
7699
7700
7701
7702
7703
7704
7705
7706
7707
7708
7709
7710
7711
7712
7713
7714
7715
7716
7717
7718
7719
7720
7721
7722
7723
7724
7725
7726
7727
7728
7729
7730
7731
7732
7733
7734
7735
7736
7737
7738
7739
7740
7741
7742
7743
7744
7745
7746
7747
7748
7749
7750
7751
7752
7753
7754
7755
7756
7757
7758
7759
7760
7761
7762
7763
7764
7765
7766
7767
7768
7769
7770
7771
7772
7773
7774
7775
7776
7777
7778
7779
7780
7781
7782
7783
7784
7785
7786
7787
7788
7789
7790
7791
7792
7793
7794
7795
7796
7797
7798
7799
7800
7801
7802
7803
7804
7805
7806
7807
7808
7809
7810
7811
7812
7813
7814
7815
7816
7817
7818
7819
7820
7821
7822
7823
7824
7825
7826
7827
7828
7829
7830
7831
7832
7833
7834
7835
7836
7837
7838
7839
7840
7841
7842
7843
7844
7845
7846
7847
7848
7849
7850
7851
7852
7853
7854
7855
7856
7857
7858
7859
7860
7861
7862
7863
7864
7865
7866
7867
7868
7869
7870
7871
7872
7873
7874
7875
7876
7877
7878
7879
7880
7881
7882
7883
7884
7885
7886
7887
7888
7889
7890
7891
7892
7893
7894
7895
7896
7897
7898
7899
7900
7901
7902
7903
7904
7905
7906
7907
7908
7909
7910
7911
7912
7913
7914
7915
7916
7917
7918
7919
7920
7921
7922
7923
7924
7925
7926
7927
7928
7929
7930
7931
7932
7933
7934
7935
7936
7937
7938
7939
7940
7941
7942
7943
7944
7945
7946
7947
7948
7949
7950
7951
7952
7953
7954
7955
7956
7957
7958
7959
7960
7961
7962
7963
7964
7965
7966
7967
7968
7969
7970
7971
7972
7973
7974
7975
7976
7977
7978
7979
7980
7981
7982
7983
7984
7985
7986
7987
7988
7989
7990
7991
7992
7993
7994
7995
7996
7997
7998
7999
8000
8001
8002
8003
8004
8005
8006
8007
8008
8009
8010
8011
8012
8013
8014
8015
8016
8017
8018
8019
8020
8021
8022
8023
8024
8025
8026
8027
8028
8029
8030
8031
8032
8033
8034
8035
8036
8037
8038
8039
8040
8041
8042
8043
8044
8045
8046
8047
8048
8049
8050
8051
8052
8053
8054
8055
8056
8057
8058
8059
8060
8061
8062
8063
8064
8065
8066
8067
8068
8069
8070
8071
8072
8073
8074
8075
8076
8077
8078
8079
8080
8081
8082
8083
8084
8085
8086
8087
8088
8089
8090
8091
8092
8093
8094
8095
8096
8097
8098
8099
8100
8101
8102
8103
8104
8105
8106
8107
8108
8109
8110
8111
8112
8113
8114
8115
8116
8117
8118
8119
8120
8121
8122
8123
8124
8125
8126
8127
8128
8129
8130
8131
8132
8133
8134
8135
8136
8137
8138
8139
8140
8141
8142
8143
8144
8145
8146
8147
8148
8149
8150
8151
8152
8153
8154
8155
8156
8157
8158
8159
8160
8161
8162
8163
8164
8165
8166
8167
8168
8169
8170
8171
8172
8173
8174
8175
8176
8177
8178
8179
8180
8181
8182
8183
8184
8185
8186
8187
8188
8189
8190
8191
8192
8193
8194
8195
8196
8197
8198
8199
8200
8201
8202
8203
8204
8205
8206
8207
8208
8209
8210
8211
8212
8213
8214
8215
8216
8217
8218
8219
8220
8221
8222
8223
8224
8225
8226
8227
8228
8229
8230
8231
8232
8233
8234
8235
8236
8237
8238
8239
8240
8241
8242
8243
8244
8245
8246
8247
8248
8249
8250
8251
8252
8253
8254
8255
8256
8257
8258
8259
8260
8261
8262
8263
8264
8265
8266
8267
8268
8269
8270
8271
8272
8273
8274
8275
8276
8277
8278
8279
8280
8281
8282
8283
8284
8285
8286
8287
8288
8289
8290
8291
8292
8293
8294
8295
8296
8297
8298
8299
8300
8301
8302
8303
8304
8305
8306
8307
8308
8309
8310
8311
8312
8313
8314
8315
8316
8317
8318
8319
8320
8321
8322
8323
8324
8325
8326
8327
8328
8329
8330
8331
8332
8333
8334
8335
8336
8337
8338
8339
8340
8341
8342
8343
8344
8345
8346
8347
8348
8349
8350
8351
8352
8353
8354
8355
8356
8357
8358
8359
8360
8361
8362
8363
8364
8365
8366
8367
8368
8369
8370
8371
8372
8373
8374
8375
8376
8377
8378
8379
8380
8381
8382
8383
8384
8385
8386
8387
8388
8389
8390
8391
8392
8393
8394
8395
8396
8397
8398
8399
8400
8401
8402
8403
8404
8405
8406
8407
8408
8409
8410
8411
8412
8413
8414
8415
8416
8417
8418
8419
8420
8421
8422
8423
8424
8425
8426
8427
8428
8429
8430
8431
8432
8433
8434
8435
8436
8437
8438
8439
8440
8441
8442
8443
8444
8445
8446
8447
8448
8449
8450
8451
8452
8453
8454
8455
8456
8457
8458
8459
8460
8461
8462
8463
8464
8465
8466
8467
8468
8469
8470
8471
8472
8473
8474
8475
8476
8477
8478
8479
8480
8481
8482
8483
8484

<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
    "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd">
<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en">
  <head>
    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" />
    <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" />
    <title>
      Religio Medici, Hydriotaphia, and the Letter to a Friend, by Sir Thomas Browne&mdash
    </title>
<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" />
    <style type="text/css">

body {
    margin-left: 10%;
    margin-right: 10%;
}

    h1,h2,h3 {
    text-align: center; /* all headings centered */
    clear: both;
    margin-top: 2em;
}

h1 {margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em;}

p {
    margin-top: .51em;
    text-align: justify;
    margin-bottom: .49em;
}

.chapter {margin-top: 4em;}

.toc {text-align: left; max-width: 40em;}

.sig   {margin-left: 4em;}

.titlepage {page-break-before: always; text-align: center;}

.p2       {margin-top: 2em;}
.p4       {margin-top: 4em;}

.small    {font-size: small;}
.smaller  {font-size: smaller;}
.larger   {font-size: larger;}
.large    {font-size: large;}
.x-large    {font-size: x-large;}

img.drop-cap
{
  float: left;
  margin: 0 0.5em 0 0;
}

p.drop-cap:first-letter
{
  color: transparent;
  visibility: hidden;
  margin-left: -0.9em;
}



hr {
    width: 33%;
    margin-top: 2em;
    margin-bottom: 2em;
    margin-left: auto;
    margin-right: auto;
    clear: both;
}

hr.tb   {width: 50%; margin-left: 25%; margin-right: 25%;}
hr.full {width: 95%; margin-left: 2.5%; margin-right: 2.5%;}


ul { list-style-type: none; }

.break
{
  page-break-before: always;
}

h1,h2
{
  page-break-before: always;
}

.nobreak
{
  page-break-before: avoid;
}

.blockquot {
    margin-left: 5%;
    margin-right: 10%;
}

.left {text-align: left;}

.center   {text-align: center;}

.right   {text-align: right;}

.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}



/* Images */
.figcenter   {
    margin: auto;
    margin-top: 1em;
    text-align: center;
}


/* Footnotes */
.footnotes        {page-break-before: always;}

.footnote         {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}

.footnote .label  {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;}

.fnanchor {
    vertical-align: super;
    font-size: .8em;
    text-decoration:
    none;
}

/* Poetry */
.poetry-container
  {
  text-align: center;
      margin-top: .51em;
    margin-bottom: .49em;
  }

.poetry
  {
  display: inline-block;
  text-align: left;
  }

.poetry .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;}

.poetry .verse
  {
  text-indent: -3em;
  padding-left: 3em;
  }

.poetry .indent4 {text-indent: -1em;}
.poetry .indent6 {text-indent: 0em;}
.poetry .indent8 {text-indent: 1em;}
.poetry .indent14 {text-indent: 4em;}

/* Transcriber's notes */
.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA;
    color: black;
     font-size:smaller;
     padding:0.5em;
     page-break-before: always;
     margin-bottom:5em;
     font-family:sans-serif, serif; }

.line2 {line-height: 200%;}

@media handheld {

  .poetry
  {
    display: block;
    margin-left: 1.5em;
  }

  img.drop-cap
  {
    display: none;
  }

  p.drop-cap:first-letter
  {
    color: inherit;
    visibility: visible;
    margin-left: 0;
  }

}

   </style>
  </head>
<body>


<pre>

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Religio Medici, Hydriotaphia, and the
Letter to a Friend, by Thomas Browne

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
www.gutenberg.org.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll
have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using
this ebook.



Title: Religio Medici, Hydriotaphia, and the Letter to a Friend

Author: Thomas Browne

Annotator: J. W. Willis Bund

Release Date: November 11, 2019 [EBook #586]

Language: English

Character set encoding: UTF-8

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RELIGIO MEDICI ***




Produced by Henry Flower and Judith Boss, Omaha, Nebraska





</pre>


<div class="transnote">

<p class="large center">Transcriber's Note</p>

<p>The printed text contained both footnotes and endnotes. These have been renumbered in continuous series of Roman and Arabic numerals respectively.</p>

<p>Corrected errata are listed at the <a href="#Transcribers_Note">end</a> of the text.</p>

<p>The following List of Contents has been added by the transcriber:</p>

<p class="line2">

<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. -->

<a href="#RELIGIO_MEDICI">RELIGIO MEDICI</a><br />
<a href="#HYDRIOTAPHIA">HYDRIOTAPHIA</a><br />
<a href="#LETTER_TO_A_FRIEND">A LETTER TO A FRIEND</a><br />
<a href="#NOTES_TO_THE_RELIGIO_MEDICI">NOTES TO THE RELIGIO MEDICI</a><br />
<a href="#NOTES_TO_HYDRIOTAPHIA">NOTES TO HYDRIOTAPHIA</a><br />
<a href="#NOTES_TO_LETTER_TO_A_FRIEND">NOTES TO LETTER TO A FRIEND</a><br /><br />

<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. -->

</p>

</div>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="600" height="875" alt="cover" />
</div>

<div class="chapter">

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;">
<img src="images/zill_005_1.png" width="250" height="50" alt="decoration" />
</div>


<h1 class="nobreak">RELIGIO MEDICI.</h1>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80px;">
<img src="images/zill_005_2.png" width="80" height="18" alt="decoration" />
</div>

</div>

<div class="titlepage p4">

<p class="center"><span class="x-large"><i>RELIGIO MEDICI</i>,</span><br />

HYDRIOTAPHIA, AND THE LETTER TO A FRIEND.</p>

<p class="p2 center"><span class="small">BY</span><br />

<span class="smcap">Sir THOMAS BROWNE, Knt.</span></p>

<p class="p2 center">WITH&nbsp;AN INTRODUCTION AND NOTES BY<br />

J. W. WILLIS BUND, M.A., LL.B.,<br />

<span class="small">GONVILLE AND CAIUS COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE,</span><br />

<span class="small">OF LINCOLN’S INN, BARRISTER-AT-LAW.</span></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;">
<img src="images/zill_009.jpg" width="350" height="439" alt="portrait of Thomas Browne" />
</div>

<p class="p2 center">LONDON:<br />

SAMPSON LOW, SON, AND MARSTON,<br />

<span class="small">CROWN BUILDINGS, 188 FLEET STREET.</span><br />

<span class="small">1869.</span></p>

</div>

<div class="p4 chapter">

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<img src="images/zill_011_1.jpg" width="450" height="102" alt="decoration" />
</div>

<h2 class="nobreak"><a name="INTRODUCTION" id="INTRODUCTION">INTRODUCTION.</a></h2>


</div>

<div>
  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/zill_011_2.png" width="70" height="70" alt=""/>
</div>

<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">SIR</span> THOMAS BROWNE (whose works occupy
so prominent a position in the literary history
of the seventeenth century) is an author
who is now little known and less read. This comparative
oblivion to which he has been consigned is
the more remarkable, as, if for nothing else, his
writings deserve to be studied as an example of the
English language in what may be termed a transition
state. The prose of the Elizabethan age was beginning
to pass away and give place to a more inflated
style of writing&mdash;a style which, after passing through
various stages of development, culminated in that of
Johnson.</p>

<p>Browne is one of the best early examples of this
school; his style, to quote Johnson himself, “is
vigorous but rugged, it is learned but pedantick, it
is deep but obscure, it strikes but does not please, it
commands but does not allure. . . . It is a tissue
of many languages, a mixture of heterogeneous words
brought together from distant regions.”</p>

<p>Yet in spite of this qualified censure, there are
passages in Browne’s works not inferior to any in
the English language; and though his writings may
not be “a well of English undefiled,” yet it is the
very defilements that add to the beauty of the work.</p>

<p>But it is not only as an example of literary style
that Browne deserves to be studied. The matter of
his works, the grandeur of his ideas, the originality
of his thoughts, the greatness of his charity, amply
make up for the deficiencies (if deficiencies there be)
in his style. An author who combined the wit of
Montaigne with the learning of Erasmus, and of
whom even Hallam could say that “his varied talents
wanted nothing but the controlling supremacy of good
sense to place him in the highest rank of our literature,”
should not be suffered to remain in obscurity.</p>

<p>A short account of his life will form the best
introduction to his works.</p>

<p>Sir Thomas Browne was born in London, in the
parish of St Michael le Quern, on the 19th of October
1605. His father was a London merchant, of a good
Cheshire family; and his mother a Sussex lady,
daughter of Mr Paul Garraway of Lewis. His
father died when he was very young, and his mother
marrying again shortly afterwards, Browne was left
to the care of his guardians, one of whom is said to
have defrauded him out of some of his property. He
was educated at Winchester, and afterwards sent to
Oxford, to what is now Pembroke College, where he
took his degree of M.A. in 1629. Thereupon he
commenced for a short time to practise as a physician
in Oxfordshire. But we soon find him growing tired
of this, and accompanying his father-in-law, Sir
Thomas Dutton, on a tour of inspection of the castles
and forts in Ireland. We next hear of Browne in
the south of France, at Montpellier, then a celebrated
school of medicine, where he seems to have studied
some little time. From there he proceeded to Padua,
one of the most famous of the Italian universities,
and noted for the views some of its members
held on the subjects of astronomy and necromancy.
During his residence here, Browne doubtless acquired
some of his peculiar ideas on the science of the
heavens and the black art, and, what was more important,
he learnt to regard the Romanists with that
abundant charity we find throughout his works.
From Padua, Browne went to Leyden, and this sudden
change from a most bigoted Roman Catholic to
a most bigoted Protestant country was not without
its effect on his mind, as can be traced in his book.
Here he took the degree of Doctor of Medicine, and
shortly afterwards returned to England. Soon after
his return, about the year 1635, he published his
“Religio Medici,” his first and greatest work, which
may be fairly regarded as the reflection of the mind
of one who, in spite of a strong intellect and vast
erudition, was still prone to superstition, but having</p>

<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza">
       <div class="verse indent8">“Through many cities strayed,</div>
       <div class="verse">Their customs, laws, and manners weighed,”</div>
</div></div></div>

<p>had obtained too large views of mankind to become
a bigot.</p>

<p>After the publication of his book he settled at
Norwich, where he soon had an extensive practice
as a physician. From hence there remains little to
be told of his life. In 1637 he was incorporated
Doctor of Medicine at Oxford; and in 1641 he
married Dorothy the daughter of Edward Mileham,
of Burlingham in Norfolk, and had by her a family
of eleven children.</p>

<p>In 1646 he published his “Pseudodoxia Epidemica,”
or Enquiries into Vulgar Errors. The discovery
of some Roman urns at Burnham in Norfolk,
led him in 1658 to write his “Hydriotaphia”
(Urn-burial); he also published at the same time
“The Garden of Cyrus, or the Quincunxcial Lozenge
of the Ancients,” a curious work, but far inferior to
his other productions.</p>

<p>In 1665 he was elected an honorary Fellow of
the College of Physicians, “virtute et literis ornatissimus.”</p>

<p>Browne had always been a Royalist. In 1643 he
had refused to subscribe to the fund that was then
being raised for regaining Newcastle. He proved a
happy exception to the almost proverbial neglect the
Royalists received from Charles II. in 1671, for when
Charles was at Newmarket, he came over to see Norwich,
and conferred the honour of knighthood on
Browne. His reputation was now very great. Evelyn
paid a visit to Norwich for the express purpose of
seeing him; and at length, on his 76th birthday
(19th October 1682), he died, full of years and
honours.</p>

<p>It was a striking coincidence that he who in his
Letter to a Friend had said that “in persons who outlive
many years, and when there are no less than
365 days to determine their lives in every year, that
the first day should mark the last, that the tail
of the snake should return into its mouth precisely
at that time, and that they should wind up upon the
day of their nativity, is indeed a remarkable coincidence,
which, though astrology hath taken witty
pains to solve, yet hath it been very wary in making
predictions of it,” should himself die on the day of
his birth.</p>

<p>Browne was buried in the church of St Peter,
Mancroft, Norwich, where his wife erected to his
memory a mural monument, on which was placed
an English and Latin inscription, setting forth that
he was the author of “Religio Medici,” “Pseudodoxia
Epidemica,” and other learned works “per orbem
notissimus.” Yet his sleep was not to be undisturbed;
his skull was fated to adorn a museum! In 1840,
while some workmen were digging a vault in the
chancel of St Peter’s, they found a coffin with an
inscription&mdash;</p>

<p class="center">
“Amplissimus Vir<br />
D<sup>us</sup> Thomas Browne Miles Medicinæ<br />
D<sup>r</sup> Annis Natus 77 Denatus 19 Die<br />
Mensis Octobris Anno D<sup>nj</sup> 1682 hoc.<br />
Loculo indormiens Corporis Spagyrici<br />
pulvere plumbum in aurum<br />
convertit.”<br />
</p>

<p>The translation of this inscription raised a storm
over his ashes, which Browne would have enjoyed
partaking in, the word <i>spagyricus</i> being an enigma
to scholars. Mr Firth of Norwich (whose translation
seems the best) thus renders the inscription:&mdash;</p>

<div class="blockquot">

<p>“The very distinguished man, Sir Thomas Browne, Knight,
Doctor of Medicine, aged 77 years, who died on the 19th of
October, in the year of our Lord 1682, sleeping in this coffin
of lead, by the dust of his alchemic body, transmutes it into
a coffer of gold.”</p></div>

<p>After Sir Thomas’s death, two collections of his
works were published, one by Archbishop Tenison,
and the other in 1772. They contain most of his
letters, his tracts on various subjects, and his Letter
to a Friend. Various editions of parts of Browne’s
works have from time to time appeared. By far the
best edition of the whole of them is that published
by Simon Wilkin.</p>

<p>It is upon his “Religio Medici”&mdash;the religion of a
physician&mdash;that Browne’s fame chiefly rests. It was
his first and most celebrated work, published just after
his return from his travels; it gives us the impressions
made on his mind by the various and opposite
schools he had passed through. He tells us that he
never intended to publish it, but that on its being
surreptitiously printed, he was induced to do so.
In 1643, the first genuine edition appeared, with
“an admonition to such as shall peruse the
observations upon a former corrupt copy of this
book.” The observations here alluded to, were
written by Sir Kenelm Digby, and sent by him to
the Earl of Dorset. They were first printed at the
end of the edition of 1643, and have ever since been
published with the book. Their chief merit consists
in the marvellous rapidity with which they were
written, Sir Kenelm having, as he tells us, bought
the book, read it, and written his observations, in
the course of twenty-four hours!</p>

<p>The book contains what may be termed an
apology for his belief. He states the reasons on
which he grounds his opinions, and endeavours to
show that, although he had been accused of atheism,
he was in all points a good Christian, and a loyal
member of the Church of England. Each person
must judge for himself of his success; but the effect
it produced on the mind of Johnson may be
noticed. “The opinions of every man,” says he,
“must be learned from himself; concerning his
practice, it is safer to trust to the evidence of others.
When the testimonies concur, no higher degree of
historical certainty can be obtained; and they
apparently concur to prove that Browne was a
zealous adherent to the faith of Christ, that he
lived in obedience to His laws, and died in confidence
of His mercy.”</p>

<p>The best proof of the excellence of the “Religio”
is to be found in its great success. During the
author’s life, from 1643 to 1681, it passed through
eleven editions. It has been translated into Latin,
Dutch, French, and German, and many of the
translations have passed through several editions.
No less than thirty-three treatises have been written
in imitation of it; and what, to some, will be the
greatest proof of all, it was soon after its publication
placed in the Index Expurgatorius. The best proof
of its liberality of sentiment is in the fact that its
author was claimed at the same time by the Romanists
and Quakers to be a member of their respective
creeds!</p>

<p>The “Hydriotaphia,” or Urn-burial, is a treatise
on the funeral rites of ancient nations. It was
caused by the discovery of some Roman urns in
Norfolk. Though inferior to the “Religio,” “there is
perhaps none of his works which better exemplifies
his reading or memory.”</p>

<p>The text of the present edition of the “Religio
Medici” is taken from what is called the eighth
edition, but is in reality the eleventh, published in
London in 1682, the last edition in the author’s lifetime.
The notes are for the most part compiled
from the observations of Sir Kenelm Digby, the
annotation of Mr. Keck, and the very valuable notes
of Simon Wilkin. For the account of the finding
of Sir Thomas Browne’s skull I am indebted to Mr
Friswell’s notice of Sir Thomas in his “Varia.”
The text of the “Hydriotaphia” is taken from the
folio edition of 1686, in the Lincoln’s Inn
library. Some of Browne’s notes to that edition
have been omitted, and most of the references, as
they refer to books which are not likely to be met
with by the general reader.</p>

<p>The “Letter to a Friend, upon the occasion of the
Death of his intimate Friend,” was first published in
a folio pamphlet in 1690. It was reprinted in his
posthumous works. The concluding reflexions are
the basis of a larger work, “Christian Morals.” I
am not aware of any complete modern edition of it.
The text of the present one is taken from the
original edition of 1690. The pamphlet is in the
British Museum, bound up with a volume of old
poems. It is entitled, “A Letter to a Friend, upon
the occasion of the Death of his intimate Friend.
By the learned Sir Thomas Brown, Knight, Doctor
of Physick, late of Norwich. London: Printed for
Charles Brone, at the Gun, at the West End of St
Paul’s Churchyard, 1690.”</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;">
<img src="images/zill_020.png" width="150" height="150" alt="decoration" />
</div>

<div class="chapter">

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<img src="images/zill_021_1.jpg" width="450" height="100" alt="decoration" />
</div>

<h2 class="nobreak"><a name="TO_THE_READER" id="TO_THE_READER">TO THE READER.</a></h2>

</div>

<div>
  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/zill_021_2.png" width="70" height="69" alt=""/>
</div>

<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">CERTAINLY</span> that man were greedy of life, who
should desire to live when all the world were
at an end; and he must needs be very impatient,
who would repine at death in the society of all
things that suffer under it. Had not almost every man
suffered by the press, or were not the tyranny thereof
become universal, I had not wanted reason for complaint:
but in times wherein I have lived to behold
the highest perversion of that excellent invention, the
name of his Majesty defamed, the honour of Parliament
depraved, the writings of both depravedly, anticipatively,
counterfeitly, imprinted: complaints may
seem ridiculous in private persons; and men of my
condition may be as incapable of affronts, as hopeless
of their reparations. And truly had not the duty I
owe unto the importunity of friends, and the allegiance
I must ever acknowledge unto truth, prevailed with
me; the inactivity of my disposition might have made
these sufferings continual, and time, that brings other
things to light, should have satisfied me in the remedy
of its oblivion. But because things evidently false are
not only printed, but many things of truth most falsely
set forth; in this latter I could not but think myself
engaged: for, though we have no power to redress the
former, yet in the other reparation being within ourselves,
I have at present represented unto the world a
full and intended copy of that piece, which was most
imperfectly and surreptitiously published before.</p>

<p>This I confess, about seven years past, with some
others of affinity thereto, for my private exercise and
satisfaction, I had at leisurable hours composed; which
being communicated unto one, it became common unto
many, and was by transcription successively corrupted,
until it arrived in a most depraved copy at the press.
He that shall peruse that work, and shall take notice
of sundry particulars and personal expressions therein,
will easily discern the intention was not publick: and,
being a private exercise directed to myself, what is delivered
therein was rather a memorial unto me, than an
example or rule unto any other: and therefore, if there
be any singularity therein correspondent unto the private
conceptions of any man, it doth not advantage
them; or if dissentaneous thereunto, it no way overthrows
them. It was penned in such a place, and with
such disadvantage, that (I protest), from the first setting
of pen unto paper, I had not the assistance of any good
book, whereby to promote my invention, or relieve my
memory; and therefore there might be many real lapses
therein, which others might take notice of, and more
that I suspected myself. It was set down many years
past, and was the sense of my conceptions at that time,
not an immutable law unto my advancing judgment at
all times; and therefore there might be many things
therein plausible unto my passed apprehension, which
are not agreeable unto my present self. There are many
things delivered rhetorically, many expressions therein
merely tropical, and as they best illustrate my intention;
and therefore also there are many things to be
taken in a soft and flexible sense, and not to be called
unto the rigid test of reason. Lastly, all that is contained
therein is in submission unto maturer discernments;
and, as I have declared, shall no further father
them than the best and learned judgments shall authorize
them: under favour of which considerations, I
have made its secrecy publick, and committed the truth
thereof to every ingenuous reader.</p>

<p class="sig">
<span class="smcap">Thomas Browne.</span><br />
</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 125px;">
<img src="images/zill_023.jpg" width="125" height="108" alt="decoration" />
</div>

<div class="chapter">
<a name="RELIGIO_MEDICI" id="RELIGIO_MEDICI"></a>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<img src="images/zill_025_1.png" width="450" height="102" alt="decoration" />
</div>


<h2 class="nobreak">RELIGIO MEDICI.</h2>

</div>

<div>
  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/zill_025_2.png" width="70" height="71" alt=""/>
</div>

<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">SECT.</span> 1.&mdash;For my religion, though there be several
circumstances that might persuade the world I
have none at all,&mdash;as the general scandal of my
profession,<a name="FNanchor_1" id="FNanchor_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a>&mdash;the natural course of my studies,&mdash;the indifferency
of my behaviour and discourse in matters of
religion (neither violently defending one, nor with that
common ardour and contention opposing another),&mdash;yet,
in despite hereof, I dare without usurpation assume
the honourable style of a Christian. Not that I merely
owe this title to the font, my education, or the clime
wherein I was born, as being bred up either to confirm
those principles my parents instilled into my understanding,
or by a general consent proceed in the religion
of my country; but having, in my riper years and confirmed
judgment, seen and examined all, I find myself
obliged, by the principles of grace, and the law of mine
own reason, to embrace no other name but this. Neither
doth herein my zeal so far make me forget the general
charity I owe unto humanity, as rather to hate than
pity Turks, Infidels, and (what is worse) Jews; rather
contenting myself to enjoy that happy style, than
maligning those who refuse so glorious a title.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 2.&mdash;But, because the name of a Christian is become
too general to express our faith,&mdash;there being a
geography of religion as well as lands, and every clime
distinguished not only by their laws and limits, but
circumscribed by their doctrines and rules of faith,&mdash;to
be particular, I am of that reformed new-cast religion,
wherein I dislike nothing but the name; of the same
belief our Saviour taught, the apostles disseminated,
the fathers authorized, and the martyrs confirmed; but,
by the sinister ends of princes, the ambition and avarice
of prelates, and the fatal corruption of times, so decayed,
impaired, and fallen from its native beauty, that it required
the careful and charitable hands of these times
to restore it to its primitive integrity. Now, the accidental
occasion whereupon, the slender means whereby,
the low and abject condition of the person by whom,
so good a work was set on foot, which in our adversaries
beget contempt and scorn, fills me with wonder,
and is the very same objection the insolent pagans first
cast at Christ and his disciples.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 3.&mdash;Yet have I not so shaken hands with those
desperate resolutions who had rather venture at large
their decayed bottom, than bring her in to be new-trimmed
in the dock,&mdash;who had rather promiscuously
retain all, than abridge any, and obstinately be what
they are, than what they have been,&mdash;as to stand in
diameter and sword’s point with them. We have reformed
from them, not against them: for, omitting
those improperations<a name="FNanchor_2" id="FNanchor_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> and terms of scurrility betwixt
us, which only difference our affections, and not our
cause, there is between us one common name and appellation,
one faith and necessary body of principles
common to us both; and therefore I am not scrupulous
to converse and live with them, to enter their churches
in defect of ours, and either pray with them or for them.
I could never perceive any rational consequences from
those many texts which prohibit the children of Israel
to pollute themselves with the temples of the heathens;
we being all Christians, and not divided by such detested
impieties as might profane our prayers, or the
place wherein we make them; or that a resolved conscience
may not adore her Creator anywhere, especially
in places devoted to his service; if their devotions
offend him, mine may please him: if theirs profane it,
mine may hallow it. Holy water and crucifix (dangerous
to the common people) deceive not my judgment,
nor abuse my devotion at all. I am, I confess, naturally
inclined to that which misguided zeal terms superstition:
my common conversation I do acknowledge
austere, my behaviour full of rigour, sometimes not
without morosity; yet, at my devotion I love to use
the civility of my knee, my hat, and hand, with all
those outward and sensible motions which may express
or promote my invisible devotion. I should violate my
own arm rather than a church; nor willingly deface
the name of saint or martyr. At the sight of a cross, or
crucifix, I can dispense with my hat, but scarce with
the thought or memory of my Saviour. I cannot laugh
at, but rather pity, the fruitless journeys of pilgrims,
or contemn the miserable condition of friars; for, though
misplaced in circumstances, there is something in it of
devotion. I could never hear the Ave-Mary bell<a name="FNanchor_I._1" id="FNanchor_I._1"></a><a href="#Footnote_I._1" class="fnanchor">[I.]</a>
without an elevation, or think it a sufficient warrant,
because they erred in one circumstance, for me to err
in all,&mdash;that is, in silence and dumb contempt. Whilst,
therefore, they direct their devotions to her, I offered
mine to God; and rectify the errors of their prayers by
rightly ordering mine own. At a solemn procession I
have wept abundantly, while my consorts, blind with
opposition and prejudice, have fallen into an excess of
scorn and laughter. There are, questionless, both in
Greek, Roman, and African churches, solemnities and
ceremonies, whereof the wiser zeals do make a Christian
use; and stand condemned by us, not as evil in
themselves, but as allurements and baits of superstition
to those vulgar heads that look asquint on the face of
truth, and those unstable judgments that cannot resist
in the narrow point and centre of virtue without a reel
or stagger to the circumference.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 4.&mdash;As there were many reformers, so likewise
many reformations; every country proceeding in a particular
way and method, according as their national
interest, together with their constitution and clime, inclined
them: some angrily and with extremity; others
calmly and with mediocrity, not rending, but easily
dividing, the community, and leaving an honest possibility
of a reconciliation;&mdash;which, though peaceable
spirits do desire, and may conceive that revolution of
time and the mercies of God may effect, yet that judgment
that shall consider the present antipathies between
the two extremes,&mdash;their contrarieties in condition,
affection, and opinion,&mdash;may, with the same hopes,
expect a union in the poles of heaven.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 5.&mdash;But, to difference myself nearer, and draw
into a lesser circle; there is no church whose every part
so squares unto my conscience, whose articles, constitutions,
and customs, seem so consonant unto reason, and,
as it were, framed to my particular devotion, as this
whereof I hold my belief&mdash;the Church of England; to
whose faith I am a sworn subject, and therefore, in a
double obligation, subscribe unto her articles, and endeavour
to observe her constitutions: whatsoever is
beyond, as points indifferent, I observe, according to the
rules of my private reason, or the humour and fashion
of my devotion; neither believing this because Luther
affirmed it, nor disproving that because Calvin hath disavouched
it. I condemn not all things in the council
of Trent, nor approve all in the synod of Dort.<a name="FNanchor_3" id="FNanchor_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> In
brief, where the Scripture is silent, the church is my
text; where that speaks, ’tis but my comment;<a name="FNanchor_4" id="FNanchor_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> where
there is a joint silence of both, I borrow not the rules of
my religion from Rome or Geneva, but from the dictates
of my own reason. It is an unjust scandal of our adversaries,
and a gross error in ourselves, to compute the
nativity of our religion from Henry the Eighth; who,
though he rejected the Pope, refused not the faith of
Rome,<a name="FNanchor_5" id="FNanchor_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> and effected no more than what his own predecessors
desired and essayed in ages past, and it was
conceived the state of Venice would have attempted in
our days.<a name="FNanchor_6" id="FNanchor_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> It is as uncharitable a point in us to fall
upon those popular scurrilities and opprobrious scoffs of
the Bishop of Rome, to whom, as a temporal prince, we
owe the duty of good language. I confess there is a
cause of passion between us: by his sentence I stand
excommunicated; heretic is the best language he affords
me: yet can no ear witness I ever returned to him the
name of antichrist, man of sin, or whore of Babylon.
It is the method of charity to suffer without reaction:
those usual satires and invectives of the pulpit may perchance
produce a good effect on the vulgar, whose ears
are opener to rhetoric than logic; yet do they, in no
wise, confirm the faith of wiser believers, who know
that a good cause needs not be pardoned by passion,
but can sustain itself upon a temperate dispute.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 6.&mdash;I could never divide myself from any man
upon the difference of an opinion, or be angry with his
judgment for not agreeing with me in that from which,
perhaps, within a few days, I should dissent myself. I
have no genius to disputes in religion: and have often
thought it wisdom to decline them, especially upon a
disadvantage, or when the cause of truth might suffer
in the weakness of my patronage. Where we desire to
be informed, ’tis good to contest with men above ourselves;
but, to confirm and establish our opinions, ’tis
best to argue with judgments below our own, that the
frequent spoils and victories over their reasons may
settle in ourselves an esteem and confirmed opinion of
our own. Every man is not a proper champion for
truth, nor fit to take up the gauntlet in the cause of
verity; many, from the ignorance of these maxims, and
an inconsiderate zeal unto truth, have too rashly charged
the troops of error and remain as trophies unto the
enemies of truth. A man may be in as just possession
of truth as of a city, and yet be forced to surrender; ’tis
therefore far better to enjoy her with peace than to
hazard her on a battle. If, therefore, there rise any
doubts in my way, I do forget them, or at least defer
them, till my better settled judgment and more manly
reason be able to resolve them; for I perceive every
man’s own reason is his best Œdipus,<a name="FNanchor_7" id="FNanchor_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> and will, upon a
reasonable truce, find a way to loose those bonds wherewith
the subtleties of error have enchained our more
flexible and tender judgments. In philosophy, where
truth seems double-faced, there is no man more paradoxical
than myself: but in divinity I love to keep the
road; and, though not in an implicit, yet an humble
faith, follow the great wheel of the church, by which I
move; not reserving any proper poles, or motion from
the epicycle of my own brain. By this means I have
no gap for heresy, schisms, or errors, of which at present,
I hope I shall not injure truth to say, I have no
taint or tincture. I must confess my greener studies
have been polluted with two or three; not any begotten
in the latter centuries, but old and obsolete, such as
could never have been revived but by such extravagant
and irregular heads as mine. For, indeed, heresies perish
not with their authors; but, like the river Arethusa,<a name="FNanchor_8" id="FNanchor_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a>
though they lose their currents in one place, they rise
up again in another. One general council is not able
to extirpate one single heresy: it may be cancelled for
the present; but revolution of time, and the like aspects
from heaven, will restore it, when it will flourish till it
be condemned again. For, as though there were metempsychosis,
and the soul of one man passed into another,
opinions do find, after certain revolutions, men and
minds like those that first begat them. To see ourselves
again, we need not look for Plato’s year:<a name="FNanchor_II._2" id="FNanchor_II._2"></a><a href="#Footnote_II._2" class="fnanchor">[II.]</a> every
man is not only himself; there have been many
Diogenes, and as many Timons, though but few of that
name; men are lived over again; the world is now as
it was in ages past; there was none then, but there hath
been some one since, that parallels him, and is, as it
were, his revived self.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 7.&mdash;Now, the first of mine was that of the
Arabians;<a name="FNanchor_9" id="FNanchor_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> that the souls of men perished with their
bodies, but should yet be raised again at the last day:
not that I did absolutely conceive a mortality of the
soul, but, if that were (which faith, not philosophy,
hath yet thoroughly disproved), and that both entered
the grave together, yet I held the same conceit thereof
that we all do of the body, that it rise again. Surely it
is but the merits of our unworthy natures, if we sleep
in darkness until the last alarm. A serious reflex upon
my own unworthiness did make me backward from
challenging this prerogative of my soul: so that I
might enjoy my Saviour at the last, I could with
patience be nothing almost unto eternity. The second
was that of Origen; that God would not persist in his
vengeance for ever, but, after a definite time of his
wrath, would release the damned souls from torture;
which error I fell into upon a serious contemplation of
the great attribute of God, his mercy; and did a little
cherish it in myself, because I found therein no malice,
and a ready weight to sway me from the other extreme
of despair, whereunto melancholy and contemplative
natures are too easily disposed. A third there is, which
I did never positively maintain or practise, but have
often wished it had been consonant to truth, and not
offensive to my religion; and that is, the prayer for the
dead; whereunto I was inclined from some charitable
inducements, whereby I could scarce contain my prayers
for a friend at the ringing of a bell, or behold his corpse
without an orison for his soul. ’Twas a good way,
methought, to be remembered by posterity, and far
more noble than a history. These opinions I never
maintained with pertinacity, or endeavoured to inveigle
any man’s belief unto mine, nor so much as ever
revealed, or disputed them with my dearest friends; by
which means I neither propagated them in others nor
confirmed them in myself: but, suffering them to flame
upon their own substance, without addition of new
fuel, they went out insensibly of themselves; therefore
these opinions, though condemned by lawful councils,
were not heresies in me, but bare errors, and single
lapses of my understanding, without a joint depravity
of my will. Those have not only depraved understandings,
but diseased affections, which cannot enjoy a
singularity without a heresy, or be the author of an
opinion without they be of a sect also. This was the
villany of the first schism of Lucifer; who was not
content to err alone, but drew into his faction many
legions; and upon this experience he tempted only Eve,
well understanding the communicable nature of sin, and
that to deceive but one was tacitly and upon consequence
to delude them both.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 8.&mdash;That heresies should arise, we have the
prophecy of Christ; but, that old ones should be
abolished, we hold no prediction. That there must
be heresies, is true, not only in our church, but also in
any other: even in the doctrines heretical there will be
superheresies; and Arians, not only divided from the
church, but also among themselves: for heads that are
disposed unto schism, and complexionally propense to
innovation, are naturally indisposed for a community;
nor will be ever confined unto the order or economy of
one body; and therefore, when they separate from
others, they knit but loosely among themselves; nor
contented with a general breach or dichotomy<a name="FNanchor_10" id="FNanchor_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> with
their church, do subdivide and mince themselves almost
into atoms. ’Tis true, that men of singular parts and
humours have not been free from singular opinions and
conceits in all ages; retaining something, not only
beside the opinion of his own church, or any other, but
also any particular author; which, notwithstanding, a
sober judgment may do without offence or heresy; for
there is yet, after all the decrees of councils, and the
niceties of the schools, many things, untouched, unimagined,
wherein the liberty of an honest reason may
play and expatiate with security, and far without the
circle of a heresy.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 9.&mdash;As for those wingy mysteries in divinity,
and airy subtleties in religion, which have unhinged
the brains of better heads, they never stretched the <i>pia
mater</i><a name="FNanchor_11" id="FNanchor_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> of mine. Methinks there be not impossibilities
enough in religion for an active faith: the deepest
mysteries ours contains have not only been illustrated,
but maintained, by syllogism and the rule of reason. I
love to lose myself in a mystery; to pursue my reason
to an <i>O altitudo!</i> ’Tis my solitary recreation to pose
my apprehension with those involved enigmas and
riddles of the Trinity&mdash;with incarnation and resurrection.
I can answer all the objections of Satan and my
rebellious reason with that odd resolution I learned of
Tertullian, “<i>Certum est quia impossibile est</i>.” I desire
to exercise my faith in the difficultest point; for, to
credit ordinary and visible objects, is not faith, but
persuasion. Some believe the better for seeing Christ’s
sepulchre; and, when they have seen the Red Sea,
doubt not of the miracle. Now, contrarily, I bless
myself, and am thankful, that I lived not in the days
of miracles; that I never saw Christ nor his disciples.
I would not have been one of those Israelites that
passed the Red Sea; nor one of Christ’s patients, on
whom he wrought his wonders: then had my faith been
thrust upon me; nor should I enjoy that greater blessing
pronounced to all that believe and saw not. ’Tis an
easy and necessary belief, to credit what our eye and
sense hath examined. I believe he was dead, and
buried, and rose again; and desire to see him in his
glory, rather than to contemplate him in his cenotaph
or sepulchre. Nor is this much to believe; as we have
reason, we owe this faith unto history: they only had
the advantage of a bold and noble faith, who lived
before his coming, who, upon obscure prophesies and
mystical types, could raise a belief, and expect apparent
impossibilities.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 10.&mdash;’Tis true, there is an edge in all firm belief,
and with an easy metaphor we may say, the sword of
faith; but in these obscurities I rather use it in the
adjunct the apostle gives it, a buckler; under which I
conceive a wary combatant may lie invulnerable. Since
I was of understanding to know that we knew nothing,
my reason hath been more pliable to the will of faith:
I am now content to understand a mystery, without a
rigid definition, in an easy and Platonic description.
That allegorical description of Hermes<a name="FNanchor_III._3" id="FNanchor_III._3"></a><a href="#Footnote_III._3" class="fnanchor">[III.]</a> pleaseth me
beyond all the metaphysical definitions of divines.
Where I cannot satisfy my reason, I love to humour
my fancy: I had as lieve you tell me that <i>anima est
angelus hominis, est corpus Dei</i>, as ἐντελέχεια;&mdash;<i>lux est
umbra Dei</i>, as <i>actus perspicui</i>. Where there is an
obscurity too deep for our reason, ’tis good to sit down
with a description, periphrasis, or adumbration;<a name="FNanchor_12" id="FNanchor_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> for,
by acquainting our reason how unable it is to display
the visible and obvious effects of nature, it becomes
more humble and submissive unto the subtleties of faith:
and thus I teach my haggard and unreclaimed reason
to stoop unto the lure of faith. I believe there was
already a tree, whose fruit our unhappy parents tasted,
though, in the same chapter when God forbids it, ’tis
positively said, the plants of the field were not yet
grown; for God had not caused it to rain upon the
earth. I believe that the serpent (if we shall literally
understand it), from his proper form and figure, made
his motion on his belly, before the curse. I find the
trial of the pucelage and virginity of women, which God
ordained the Jews, is very fallible. Experience and
history informs me that, not only many particular
women, but likewise whole nations, have escaped the
curse of childbirth, which God seems to pronounce upon
the whole sex; yet do I believe that all this is true,
which, indeed, my reason would persuade me to be
false: and this, I think, is no vulgar part of faith, to
believe a thing not only above, but contrary to, reason,
and against the arguments of our proper senses.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 11.&mdash;In my solitary and retired imagination
(“<i>neque enim cum porticus aut me lectulus accepit, desum
mihi</i>”), I remember I am not alone; and therefore forget
not to contemplate him and his attributes, who is ever
with me, especially those two mighty ones, his wisdom
and eternity. With the one I recreate, with the other
I confound, my understanding: for who can speak of
eternity without a solecism, or think thereof without
an ecstasy? Time we may comprehend; ’tis but five
days elder than ourselves, and hath the same horoscope
with the world; but, to retire so far back as to apprehend
a beginning,&mdash;to give such an infinite start forwards
as to conceive an end,&mdash;in an essence that we
affirm hath neither the one nor the other, it puts my
reason to St Paul’s sanctuary: my philosophy dares not
say the angels can do it. God hath not made a creature
that can comprehend him; ’tis a privilege of his own
nature: “I am that I am” was his own definition unto
Moses; and ’twas a short one to confound mortality,
that durst question God, or ask him what he was. Indeed,
he only is; all others have and shall be; but, in
eternity, there is no distinction of tenses; and therefore
that terrible term, predestination, which hath troubled
so many weak heads to conceive, and the wisest to explain,
is in respect to God no prescious determination of
our estates to come, but a definitive blast of his will
already fulfilled, and at the instant that he first decreed
it; for, to his eternity, which is indivisible, and altogether,
the last trump is already sounded, the reprobates
in the flame, and the blessed in Abraham’s bosom. St
Peter speaks modestly, when he saith, “a thousand
years to God are but as one day;” for, to speak like a
philosopher, those continued instances of time, which
flow into a thousand years, make not to him one moment.
What to us is to come, to his eternity is present; his
whole duration being but one permanent point, without
succession, parts, flux, or division.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 12.&mdash;There is no attribute that adds more difficulty
to the mystery of the Trinity, where, though in a
relative way of Father and Son, we must deny a priority.
I wonder how Aristotle could conceive the world eternal,
or how he could make good two eternities. His similitude,
of a triangle comprehended in a square, doth somewhat
illustrate the trinity of our souls, and that the
triple unity of God; for there is in us not three, but a
trinity of, souls; because there is in us, if not three distinct
souls, yet differing faculties, that can and do subsist
apart in different subjects, and yet in us are thus united
as to make but one soul and substance. If one soul
were so perfect as to inform three distinct bodies, that
were a pretty trinity. Conceive the distinct number of
three, not divided nor separated by the intellect, but
actually comprehended in its unity, and that a perfect
trinity. I have often admired the mystical way of
Pythagoras, and the secret magick of numbers. “Beware
of philosophy,” is a precept not to be received in
too large a sense: for, in this mass of nature, there is
a set of things that carry in their front, though not in
capital letters, yet in stenography and short characters,
something of divinity; which, to wiser reasons, serve as
luminaries in the abyss of knowledge, and, to judicious
beliefs, as scales and roundles to mount the pinnacles
and highest pieces of divinity. The severe schools shall
never laugh me out of the philosophy of Hermes, that
this visible world is but a picture of the invisible, wherein,
as in a portrait, things are not truly, but in equivocal
shapes, and as they counterfeit some real substance in
that invisible fabrick.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 13.&mdash;That other attribute, wherewith I recreate
my devotion, is his wisdom, in which I am happy; and
for the contemplation of this only do not repent me that
I was bred in the way of study. The advantage I have
therein, is an ample recompense for all my endeavours,
in what part of knowledge soever. Wisdom is his most
beauteous attribute: no man can attain unto it: yet
Solomon pleased God when he desired it. He is wise,
because he knows all things; and he knoweth all things,
because he made them all: but his greatest knowledge
is in comprehending that he made not, that is, himself.
And this is also the greatest knowledge in man. For
this do I honour my own profession, and embrace the
counsel even of the devil himself: had he read such a
lecture in Paradise as he did at Delphos,<a name="FNanchor_IV._4" id="FNanchor_IV._4"></a><a href="#Footnote_IV._4" class="fnanchor">[IV.]</a><a name="FNanchor_13" id="FNanchor_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> we had
better known ourselves; nor had we stood in fear to
know him. I know God is wise in all; wonderful in
what we conceive, but far more in what we comprehend
not: for we behold him but asquint, upon reflex or
shadow; our understanding is dimmer than Moses’s
eye; we are ignorant of the back parts or lower side
of his divinity; therefore, to pry into the maze of his
counsels, is not only folly in man, but presumption
even in angels. Like us, they are his servants, not his
senators; he holds no counsel, but that mystical one of
the Trinity, wherein, though there be three persons,
there is but one mind that decrees without contradiction.
Nor needs he any; his actions are not begot
with deliberation; his wisdom naturally knows what’s
best: his intellect stands ready fraught with the superlative
and purest ideas of goodness, consultations, and
election, which are two motions in us, make but one in
him: his actions springing from his power at the first
touch of his will. These are contemplations metaphysical:
my humble speculations have another method,
and are content to trace and discover those expressions
he hath left in his creatures, and the obvious effects of
nature. There is no danger to profound<a name="FNanchor_14" id="FNanchor_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a> these mysteries,
no <i>sanctum sanctorum</i> in philosophy. The world
was made to be inhabited by beasts, but studied and
contemplated by man: ’tis the debt of our reason we
owe unto God, and the homage we pay for not being
beasts. Without this, the world is still as though it
had not been, or as it was before the sixth day, when as
yet there was not a creature that could conceive or say
there was a world. The wisdom of God receives small
honour from those vulgar heads that rudely stare about,
and with a gross rusticity admire his works. Those
highly magnify him, whose judicious enquiry into his
acts, and deliberate research into his creatures, return
the duty of a devout and learned admiration. Therefore,</p>

<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza">
       <div class="verse">Search while thou wilt; and let thy reason go,</div>
       <div class="verse">To ransom truth, e’en to th’ abyss below;</div>
       <div class="verse">Rally the scatter’d causes; and that line</div>
       <div class="verse">Which nature twists be able to untwine.</div>
       <div class="verse">It is thy Maker’s will; for unto none</div>
       <div class="verse">But unto reason can he e’er be known.</div>
       <div class="verse">The devils do know thee; but those damn’d meteors</div>
       <div class="verse">Build not thy glory, but confound thy creatures.</div>
       <div class="verse">Teach my endeavours so thy works to read,</div>
       <div class="verse">That learning them in thee I may proceed.</div>
       <div class="verse">Give thou my reason that instructive flight,</div>
       <div class="verse">Whose weary wings may on thy hands still light.</div>
       <div class="verse">Teach me to soar aloft, yet ever so,</div>
       <div class="verse">When near the sun, to stoop again below.</div>
       <div class="verse">Thus shall my humble feathers safely hover,</div>
       <div class="verse">And, though near earth, more than the heavens discover.</div>
       <div class="verse">And then at last, when homeward I shall drive,</div>
       <div class="verse">Rich with the spoils of nature, to my hive,</div>
       <div class="verse">There will I sit, like that industrious fly,</div>
       <div class="verse">Buzzing thy praises; which shall never die</div>
       <div class="verse">Till death abrupts them, and succeeding glory</div>
       <div class="verse">Bid me go on in a more lasting story.</div>
</div></div></div>

<p>And this is almost all wherein an humble creature
may endeavour to requite, and some way to retribute
unto his Creator: for, if not he that saith, “Lord, Lord,
but he that doth the will of the Father, shall be saved,”
certainly our wills must be our performances, and our
intents make out our actions; otherwise our pious labours
shall find anxiety in our graves, and our best endeavours
not hope, but fear, a resurrection.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 14.&mdash;There is but one first cause, and four second
causes, of all things. Some are without efficient,<a name="FNanchor_15" id="FNanchor_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a> as
God; others without matter, as angels; some without
form, as the first matter: but every essence, created or
uncreated, hath its final cause, and some positive end
both of its essence and operation. This is the cause I
grope after in the works of nature; on this hangs the
providence of God. To raise so beauteous a structure
as the world and the creatures thereof was but his art;
but their sundry and divided operations, with their predestinated
ends, are from the treasure of his wisdom.
In the causes, nature, and affections, of the eclipses of
the sun and moon, there is most excellent speculation;
but, to profound further, and to contemplate a reason
why his providence hath so disposed and ordered their
motions in that vast circle, as to conjoin and obscure
each other, is a sweeter piece of reason, and a diviner
point of philosophy. Therefore, sometimes, and in some
things, there appears to me as much divinity in Galen
his books, <i>De Usu Partium</i>,<a name="FNanchor_16" id="FNanchor_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a> as in Suarez’s Metaphysicks.
Had Aristotle been as curious in the enquiry
of this cause as he was of the other, he had not left
behind him an imperfect piece of philosophy, but an
absolute tract of divinity.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 15.&mdash;<i>Natura nihil agit frustra</i>, is the only indisputable
axiom in philosophy. There are no grotesques
in nature; not any thing framed to fill up empty cantons,
and unnecessary spaces. In the most imperfect creatures,
and such as were not preserved in the ark, but, having
their seeds and principles in the womb of nature, are
everywhere, where the power of the sun is,&mdash;in these is
the wisdom of his hand discovered. Out of this rank
Solomon chose the object of his admiration; indeed,
what reason may not go to school to the wisdom of bees,
ants, and spiders? What wise hand teacheth them to
do what reason cannot teach us? Ruder heads stand
amazed at those prodigious pieces of nature, whales,
elephants, dromedaries, and camels; these, I confess,
are the colossus and majestick pieces of her hand; but
in these narrow engines there is more curious mathematicks;
and the civility of these little citizens more
neatly sets forth the wisdom of their Maker. Who
admires not Regio Montanus his fly beyond his eagle;<a name="FNanchor_17" id="FNanchor_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a>
or wonders not more at the operation of two souls in
those little bodies than but one in the trunk of a cedar?
I could never content my contemplation with those
general pieces of wonder, the flux and reflux of the sea,
the increase of Nile, the conversion of the needle to the
north; and have studied to match and parallel those in
the more obvious and neglected pieces of nature which,
without farther travel, I can do in the cosmography of
myself. We carry with us the wonders we seek without
us: there is all Africa and her prodigies in us. We
are that bold and adventurous piece of nature, which
he that studies wisely learns, in a compendium, what
others labour at in a divided piece and endless volume.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 16.&mdash;Thus there are two books from whence I
collect my divinity. Besides that written one of God,
another of his servant, nature, that universal and publick
manuscript, that lies expansed unto the eyes of all.
Those that never saw him in the one have discovered
him in the other; this was the scripture and theology
of the heathens; the natural motion of the sun made
them more admire him than its supernatural station did
the children of Israel. The ordinary effects of nature
wrought more admiration in them than, in the other,
all his miracles. Surely the heathens knew better how
to join and read these mystical letters than we Christians,
who cast a more careless eye on these common hieroglyphics,
and disdain to suck divinity from the flowers
of nature. Nor do I so forget God as to adore the name
of nature; which I define not, with the schools, to be
the principle of motion and rest, but that straight and
regular line, that settled and constant course the wisdom
of God hath ordained the actions of his creatures, according
to their several kinds. To make a revolution every
day is the nature of the sun, because of that necessary
course which God hath ordained it, from which it cannot
swerve but by a faculty from that voice which first did
give it motion. Now this course of nature God seldom
alters or perverts; but, like an excellent artist, hath so
contrived his work, that, with the self-same instrument,
without a new creation, he may effect his obscurest
designs. Thus he sweeteneth the water with a word,
preserveth the creatures in the ark, which the blest of
his mouth might have as easily created;&mdash;for God is
like a skilful geometrician, who, when more easily, and
with one stroke of his compass, he might describe or
divide a right line, had yet rather do this in a circle or
longer way, according to the constituted and forelaid
principles of his art: yet this rule of his he doth sometimes
pervert, to acquaint the world with his prerogative,
lest the arrogancy of our reason should question his
power, and conclude he could not. And thus I call the
effects of nature the works of God, whose hand and
instrument she only is; and therefore, to ascribe his
actions unto her is to devolve the honour of the principal
agent upon the instrument; which if with reason
we may do, then let our hammers rise up and boast they
have built our houses, and our pens receive the honour
of our writing. I hold there is a general beauty in the
works of God, and therefore no deformity in any kind
of species of creature whatsoever. I cannot tell by what
logick we call a toad, a bear, or an elephant ugly; they
being created in those outward shapes and figures which
best express the actions of their inward forms; and
having passed that general visitation of God, who saw
that all that he had made was good, that is, conformable
to his will, which abhors deformity, and is the rule of
order and beauty. There is no deformity but in monstrosity;
wherein, notwithstanding, there is a kind of
beauty; nature so ingeniously contriving the irregular
part, as they become sometimes more remarkable than
the principal fabrick. To speak yet more narrowly,
there was never any thing ugly or mis-shapen, but the
chaos; wherein, notwithstanding, to speak strictly, there
was no deformity, because no form; nor was it yet impregnant
by the voice of God. Now nature is not at
variance with art, nor art with nature; they being both
the servants of his providence. Art is the perfection of
nature. Were the world now as it was the sixth day,
there were yet a chaos. Nature hath made one world,
and art another. In brief, all things are artificial; for
nature is the art of God.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 17.&mdash;This is the ordinary and open way of his
providence, which art and industry have in good part
discovered; whose effects we may foretell without an
oracle. To foreshow these is not prophecy, but prognostication.
There is another way, full of meanders
and labyrinths, whereof the devil and spirits have no
exact ephemerides: and that is a more particular and
obscure method of his providence; directing the operations
of individual and single essences: this we call
fortune; that serpentine and crooked line, whereby he
draws those actions his wisdom intends in a more unknown
and secret way; this cryptic<a name="FNanchor_18" id="FNanchor_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a> and involved
method of his providence have I ever admired; nor
can I relate the history of my life, the occurrences of
my days, the escapes, or dangers, and hits of chance,
with a <i>bezo las manos</i> to Fortune, or a bare gramercy to
my good stars. Abraham might have thought the ram
in the thicket came thither by accident: human reason
would have said that mere chance conveyed Moses in
the ark to the sight of Pharaoh’s daughter. What a
labyrinth is there in the story of Joseph! able to convert
a stoick. Surely there are in every man’s life
certain rubs, doublings, and wrenches, which pass a
while under the effects of chance; but at the last, well
examined, prove the mere hand of God. ’Twas not
dumb chance that, to discover the fougade,<a name="FNanchor_19" id="FNanchor_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a> or powder
plot, contrived a miscarriage in the letter. I like the
victory of ’88<a name="FNanchor_20" id="FNanchor_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a> the better for that one occurrence which
our enemies imputed to our dishonour, and the partiality
of fortune; to wit, the tempests and contrariety of
winds. King Philip did not detract from the nation,
when he said, he sent his armada to fight with men,
and not to combat with the winds. Where there is a
manifest disproportion between the powers and forces
of two several agents, upon a maxim of reason we may
promise the victory to the superior: but when unexpected
accidents slip in, and unthought-of occurrences
intervene, these must proceed from a power that owes
no obedience to those axioms; where, as in the writing
upon the wall, we may behold the hand, but see not
the spring that moves it. The success of that petty
province of Holland (of which the Grand Seignior
proudly said, if they should trouble him, as they did
the Spaniard, he would send his men with shovels and
pickaxes, and throw it into the sea) I cannot altogether
ascribe to the ingenuity and industry of the people, but
the mercy of God, that hath disposed them to such a
thriving genius; and to the will of his providence, that
disposeth her favour to each country in their preordinate
season. All cannot be happy at once; for, because the
glory of one state depends upon the ruin of another,
there is a revolution and vicissitude of their greatness,
and must obey the swing of that wheel, not moved by
intelligencies, but by the hand of God, whereby all
estates arise to their zenith and vertical points, according
to their predestinated periods. For the lives, not
only of men, but of commonwealths and the whole
world, run not upon a helix that still enlargeth; but
on a circle, where, arriving to their meridian, they
decline in obscurity, and fall under the horizon again.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 18.&mdash;These must not therefore be named the
effects of fortune but in a relative way, and as we term
the works of nature. It was the ignorance of man’s
reason that begat this very name, and by a careless
term miscalled the providence of God: for there is no
liberty for causes to operate in a loose and straggling
way; nor any effect whatsoever but hath its warrant
from some universal or superior cause. ’Tis not a
ridiculous devotion to say a prayer before a game at
tables; for, even in sortileges<a name="FNanchor_21" id="FNanchor_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a> and matters of greatest
uncertainty, there is a settled and preordered course of
effects. It is we that are blind, not fortune. Because
our eye is too dim to discover the mystery of her effects,
we foolishly paint her blind, and hoodwink the providence
of the Almighty. I cannot justify that contemptible
proverb, that “fools only are fortunate;” or
that insolent paradox, that “a wise man is out of the
reach of fortune;” much less those opprobrious epithets
of poets,&mdash;“whore,” “bawd,” and “strumpet.” ’Tis, I confess,
the common fate of men of singular gifts of mind, to
be destitute of those of fortune; which doth not any way
deject the spirit of wiser judgments who thoroughly
understand the justice of this proceeding; and, being
enriched with higher donatives, cast a more careless
eye on these vulgar parts of felicity. It is a most unjust
ambition, to desire to engross the mercies of the
Almighty, not to be content with the goods of mind,
without a possession of those of body or fortune: and
it is an error, worse than heresy, to adore these complimental
and circumstantial pieces of felicity, and undervalue
those perfections and essential points of happiness,
wherein we resemble our Maker. To wiser desires
it is satisfaction enough to deserve, though not to enjoy,
the favours of fortune. Let providence provide for fools:
’tis not partiality, but equity, in God, who deals with us
but as our natural parents. Those that are able of body
and mind he leaves to their deserts; to those of weaker
merits he imparts a larger portion; and pieces out the
defect of one by the excess of the other. Thus have we
no just quarrel with nature for leaving us naked; or to
envy the horns, hoofs, skins, and furs of other creatures;
being provided with reason, that can supply them all.
We need not labour, with so many arguments, to confute
judicial astrology; for, if there be a truth therein,
it doth not injure divinity. If to be born under Mercury
disposeth us to be witty; under Jupiter to be
wealthy; I do not owe a knee unto these, but unto
that merciful hand that hath ordered my indifferent
and uncertain nativity unto such benevolous aspects.
Those that hold that all things are governed by fortune,
had not erred, had they not persisted there. The
Romans, that erected a temple to Fortune, acknowledged
therein, though in a blinder way, somewhat of
divinity; for, in a wise supputation,<a name="FNanchor_22" id="FNanchor_22"></a><a href="#Footnote_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a> all things begin
and end in the Almighty. There is a nearer way to
heaven than Homer’s chain;<a name="FNanchor_23" id="FNanchor_23"></a><a href="#Footnote_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a> an easy logick may conjoin
a heaven and earth in one argument, and, with less
than a sorites,<a name="FNanchor_24" id="FNanchor_24"></a><a href="#Footnote_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a> resolve all things to God. For though
we christen effects by their most sensible and nearest
causes, yet is God the true and infallible cause of all;
whose concourse, though it be general, yet doth it subdivide
itself into the particular actions of every thing,
and is that spirit, by which each singular essence not
only subsists, but performs its operation.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 19.&mdash;The bad construction and perverse comment
on these pair of second causes, or visible hands of
God, have perverted the devotion of many unto atheism;
who, forgetting the honest advisoes of faith, have listened
unto the conspiracy of passion and reason. I
have therefore always endeavoured to compose those
feuds and angry dissensions between affection, faith,
and reason: for there is in our soul a kind of triumvirate,
or triple government of three competitors, which
distracts the peace of this our commonwealth not less
than did that other<a name="FNanchor_25" id="FNanchor_25"></a><a href="#Footnote_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a> the state of Rome.</p>

<p>As reason is a rebel unto faith, so passion unto reason.
As the propositions of faith seem absurd unto reason,
so the theorems of reason unto passion and both unto
reason; yet a moderate and peaceable discretion may
so state and order the matter, that they may be all
kings, and yet make but one monarchy: every one
exercising his sovereignty and prerogative in a due
time and place, according to the restraint and limit of
circumstance. There are, as in philosophy, so in
divinity, sturdy doubts, and boisterous objections,
wherewith the unhappiness of our knowledge too
nearly acquainteth us. More of these no man hath
known than myself; which I confess I conquered, not
in a martial posture, but on my knees. For our endeavours
are not only to combat with doubts, but
always to dispute with the devil. The villany of that
spirit takes a hint of infidelity from our studios; and,
by demonstrating a naturality in one way, makes us
mistrust a miracle in another. Thus, having perused
the Archidoxes, and read the secret sympathies of
things, he would dissuade my belief from the miracle
of the brazen serpent; make me conceit that image
worked by sympathy, and was but an Egyptian trick,
to cure their diseases without a miracle. Again, having
seen some experiments of bitumen, and having read far
more of naphtha, he whispered to my curiosity the fire
of the altar might be natural, and bade me mistrust a
miracle in Elias, when he intrenched the altar round
with water: for that inflamable substance yields not
easily unto water, but flames in the arms of its antagonist.
And thus would he inveigle my belief to
think the combustion of Sodom might be natural, and
that there was an asphaltick and bituminous nature in
that lake before the fire of Gomorrah. I know that
manna is now plentifully gathered in Calabria; and
Josephus tells me, in his days it was as plentiful in
Arabia. The devil therefore made the query, “Where
was then the miracle in the days of Moses?” The
Israelites saw but that, in his time, which the natives
of those countries behold in ours. Thus the devil
played at chess with me, and, yielding a pawn, thought
to gain a queen of me; taking advantage of my honest
endeavours; and, whilst I laboured to raise the structure
of my reason, he strove to undermine the edifice of
my faith.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 20.&mdash;Neither had these or any other ever such
advantage of me, as to incline me to any point of infidelity
or desperate positions of atheism; for I have
been these many years of opinion there was never any.
Those that held religion was the difference of man from
beasts, have spoken probably, and proceed upon a principle
as inductive as the other. That doctrine of
Epicurus, that denied the providence of God, was no
atheism, but a magnificent and high-strained conceit of
his majesty, which he deemed too sublime to mind the
trivial actions of those inferior creatures. That fatal
necessity of the stoicks is nothing but the immutable
law of his will. Those that heretofore denied the
divinity of the Holy Ghost have been condemned but
as hereticks; and those that now deny our Saviour,
though more than hereticks, are not so much as atheists:
for, though they deny two persons in the Trinity, they
hold, as we do, there is but one God.</p>

<p>That villain and secretary of hell,<a name="FNanchor_26" id="FNanchor_26"></a><a href="#Footnote_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a> that composed that
miscreant piece of the three impostors, though divided
from all religions, and neither Jew, Turk, nor Christian,
was not a positive atheist. I confess every country hath
its Machiavel, every age its Lucian, whereof common
heads must not hear, nor more advanced judgments too
rashly venture on. It is the rhetorick of Satan; and
may pervert a loose or prejudicate belief.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 21.&mdash;I confess I have perused them all, and can
discover nothing that may startle a discreet belief; yet
are their heads carried off with the wind and breath of
such motives. I remember a doctor in physick, of
Italy, who could not perfectly believe the immortality
of the soul, because Galen seemed to make a doubt
thereof. With another I was familiarly acquainted, in
France, a divine, and a man of singular parts, that on
the same point was so plunged and gravelled with three
lines of Seneca,<a name="FNanchor_V._5" id="FNanchor_V._5"></a><a href="#Footnote_V._5" class="fnanchor">[V.]</a> that all our antidotes, drawn from
both Scripture and philosophy, could not expel the
poison of his error. There are a set of heads that can
credit the relations of mariners, yet question the testimonies
of Saint Paul: and peremptorily maintain the
traditions of Ælian or Pliny; yet, in histories of Scripture,
raise queries and objections: believing no more
than they can parallel in human authors. I confess
there are, in Scripture, stories that do exceed the fables
of poets, and, to a captious reader, sound like Garagantua
or Bevis.<a name="FNanchor_27" id="FNanchor_27"></a><a href="#Footnote_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a> Search all the legends of times past,
and the fabulous conceits of these present, and ’twill be
hard to find one that deserves to carry the buckler unto
Samson; yet is all this of an easy possibility, if we conceive
a divine concourse, or an influence from the little
finger of the Almighty. It is impossible that, either
in the discourse of man or in the infallible voice of
God, to the weakness of our apprehensions there should
not appear irregularities, contradictions, and antinomies:<a name="FNanchor_28" id="FNanchor_28"></a><a href="#Footnote_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a>
myself could show a catalogue of doubts, never
yet imagined nor questioned, as I know, which are not
resolved at the first hearing; not fantastick queries or
objections of air; for I cannot hear of atoms in divinity.
I can read the history of the pigeon that was sent out of
the ark, and returned no more, yet not question how
she found out her mate that was left behind: that
Lazarus was raised from the dead, yet not demand
where, in the interim, his soul awaited; or raise a law-case,
whether his heir might lawfully detain his inheritance
bequeathed upon him by his death, and he, though
restored to life, have no plea or title unto his former
possessions. Whether Eve was framed out of the left
side of Adam, I dispute not; because I stand not yet
assured which is the right side of a man; or whether
there be any such distinction in nature. That she was
edified out of the rib of Adam, I believe; yet raise no
question who shall arise with that rib at the resurrection.
Whether Adam was an hermaphrodite, as the rabbins
contend upon the letter of the text; because it is contrary
to reason, there should be an hermaphrodite
before there was a woman, or a composition of two
natures, before there was a second composed. Likewise,
whether the world was created in autumn, summer, or
the spring; because it was created in them all: for,
whatsoever sign the sun possesseth, those four seasons
are actually existent. It is the nature of this luminary to
distinguish the several seasons of the year; all which it
makes at one time in the whole earth, and successively in
any part thereof. There are a bundle of curiosities, not
only in philosophy, but in divinity, proposed and discussed
by men of most supposed abilities, which indeed are not
worthy our vacant hours, much less our serious studies.
Pieces only fit to be placed in Pantagruel’s library, or
bound up with Tartaratus, <i>De Modo Cacandi</i>.<a name="FNanchor_VI._6" id="FNanchor_VI._6"></a><a href="#Footnote_VI._6" class="fnanchor">[VI.]</a><a name="FNanchor_29" id="FNanchor_29"></a><a href="#Footnote_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a></p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 22.&mdash;These are niceties that become not those
that peruse so serious a mystery. There are others
more generally questioned, and called to the bar, yet,
methinks, of an easy and possible truth.</p>

<p>’Tis ridiculous to put off or down the general flood
of Noah, in that particular inundation of Deucalion.<a name="FNanchor_30" id="FNanchor_30"></a><a href="#Footnote_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a>
That there was a deluge once seems not to me so great
a miracle as that there is not one always. How all the
kinds of creatures, not only in their own bulks, but
with a competency of food and sustenance, might be
preserved in one ark, and within the extent of three
hundred cubits, to a reason that rightly examines it,
will appear very feasible. There is another secret, not
contained in the Scripture, which is more hard to comprehend,
and put the honest Father<a name="FNanchor_31" id="FNanchor_31"></a><a href="#Footnote_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a> to the refuge of a
miracle; and that is, not only how the distinct pieces
of the world, and divided islands, should be first planted
by men, but inhabited by tigers, panthers, and bears.
How America abounded with beasts of prey, and
noxious animals, yet contained not in it that necessary
creature, a horse, is very strange. By what passage
those, not only birds, but dangerous and unwelcome
beasts, come over. How there be creatures there
(which are not found in this triple continent). All
which must needs be strange unto us, that hold but one
ark; and that the creatures began their progress from
the mountains of Ararat. They who, to salve this,
would make the deluge particular, proceed upon a
principle that I can no way grant; not only upon the
negative of Holy Scriptures, but of mine own reason,
whereby I can make it probable that the world was as
well peopled in the time of Noah as in ours; and
fifteen hundred years, to people the world, as full a
time for them as four thousand years since have been
to us. There are other assertions and common tenets
drawn from Scripture, and generally believed as Scripture,
whereunto, notwithstanding, I would never betray
the liberty of my reason. ’Tis a paradox to me, that
Methusalem was the longest lived of all the children of
Adam; and no man will be able to prove it; when,
from the process of the text, I can manifest it may be
otherwise. That Judas perished by hanging himself,
there is no certainty in Scripture: though, in one
place, it seems to affirm it, and, by a doubtful word,
hath given occasion to translate<a name="FNanchor_32" id="FNanchor_32"></a><a href="#Footnote_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a> it; yet, in another
place, in a more punctual description, it makes it improbable,
and seems to overthrow it. That our fathers,
after the flood, erected the tower of Babel, to preserve
themselves against a second deluge, is generally opinioned
and believed; yet is there another intention of
theirs expressed in Scripture. Besides, it is improbable,
from the circumstance of the place; that is, a plain in
the land of Shinar. These are no points of faith; and
therefore may admit a free dispute. There are yet
others, and those familiarly concluded from the text,
wherein (under favour) I see no consequence. The
church of Rome confidently proves the opinion of
tutelary angels, from that answer, when Peter knocked
at the door, “’Tis not he, but his angel;” that is, might
some say, his messenger, or somebody from him; for so
the original signifies; and is as likely to be the doubtful
family’s meaning. This exposition I once suggested to
a young divine, that answered upon this point; to
which I remember the Franciscan opponent replied no
more, but, that it was a new, and no authentick interpretation.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 23.&mdash;These are but the conclusions and fallible
discourses of man upon the word of God; for such I do
believe the Holy Scriptures; yet, were it of man, I
could not choose but say, it was the singularest and
superlative piece that hath been extant since the creation.
Were I a pagan, I should not refrain the lecture of it;
and cannot but commend the judgment of Ptolemy, that
thought not his library complete without it. The
Alcoran of the Turks (I speak without prejudice) is an
ill-composed piece, containing in it vain and ridiculous
errors in philosophy, impossibilities, fictions, and vanities
beyond laughter, maintained by evident and open sophisms,
the policy of ignorance, deposition of universities,
and banishment of learning. That hath gotten foot by
arms and violence: this, without a blow, hath disseminated
itself through the whole earth. It is not
unremarkable, what Philo first observed, that the law
of Moses continued two thousand years without the
least alteration; whereas, we see, the laws of other
commonwealths do alter with occasions: and even those,
that pretended their original from some divinity, to
have vanished without trace or memory. I believe,
besides Zoroaster, there were divers others that writ
before Moses; who, notwithstanding, have suffered the
common fate of time. Men’s works have an age, like
themselves; and though they outlive their authors, yet
have they a stint and period to their duration. This
only is a work too hard for the teeth of time, and cannot
perish but in the general flames, when all things shall
confess their ashes.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 24.&mdash;I have heard some with deep sighs lament
the lost lines of Cicero; others with as many groans
deplore the combustion of the library of Alexandria;<a name="FNanchor_33" id="FNanchor_33"></a><a href="#Footnote_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a>
for my own part, I think there be too many in the
world; and could with patience behold the urn and
ashes of the Vatican, could I, with a few others, recover
the perished leaves of Solomon. I would not omit a
copy of Enoch’s pillars,<a name="FNanchor_34" id="FNanchor_34"></a><a href="#Footnote_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a> had they many nearer authors
than Josephus, or did not relish somewhat of the fable.
Some men have written more than others have spoken.
Pineda<a name="FNanchor_35" id="FNanchor_35"></a><a href="#Footnote_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</a> quotes more authors, in one work,<a name="FNanchor_VII._7" id="FNanchor_VII._7"></a><a href="#Footnote_VII._7" class="fnanchor">[VII.]</a> than are
necessary in a whole world. Of those three great inventions
in Germany,<a name="FNanchor_36" id="FNanchor_36"></a><a href="#Footnote_36" class="fnanchor">[36]</a> there are two which are not without
their incommodities, and ’tis disputable whether they
exceed not their use and commodities. ’Tis not a melancholy
<i>utinam</i> of my own, but the desires of better heads,
that there were a general synod&mdash;not to unite the incompatible
difference of religion, but,&mdash;for the benefit of
learning, to reduce it, as it lay at first, in a few and solid
authors; and to condemn to the fire those swarms and
millions of rhapsodies, begotten only to distract and
abuse the weaker judgments of scholars, and to maintain
the trade and mystery of typographers.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 25.&mdash;I cannot but wonder with what exception
the Samaritans could confine their belief to the Pentateuch,
or five books of Moses. I am ashamed at the
rabbinical interpretation of the Jews upon the Old
Testament,<a name="FNanchor_37" id="FNanchor_37"></a><a href="#Footnote_37" class="fnanchor">[37]</a> as much as their defection from the New:
and truly it is beyond wonder, how that contemptible
and degenerate issue of Jacob, once so devoted to ethnick
superstition, and so easily seduced to the idolatry of
their neighbours, should now, in such an obstinate and
peremptory belief, adhere unto their own doctrine,
expect impossibilities, and in the face and eye of the
church, persist without the least hope of conversion.
This is a vice in them, that were a virtue in us; for
obstinacy in a bad cause is but constancy in a good:
and herein I must accuse those of my own religion; for
there is not any of such a fugitive faith, such an unstable
belief, as a Christian; none that do so often transform
themselves, not unto several shapes of Christianity, and
of the same species, but unto more unnatural and contrary
forms of Jew and Mohammedan; that, from the name
of Saviour, can condescend to the bare term of prophet:
and, from an old belief that he is come, fall to a new
expectation of his coming. It is the promise of Christ,
to make us all one flock: but how and when this union
shall be, is as obscure to me as the last day. Of those
four members of religion we hold a slender proportion.<a name="FNanchor_38" id="FNanchor_38"></a><a href="#Footnote_38" class="fnanchor">[38]</a>
There are, I confess, some new additions; yet
small to those which accrue to our adversaries; and
those only drawn from the revolt of pagans; men but
of negative impieties; and such as deny Christ, but
because they never heard of him. But the religion of
the Jew is expressly against the Christian, and the
Mohammedan against both; for the Turk, in the bulk
he now stands, is beyond all hope of conversion: if he
fall asunder, there may be conceived hopes; but not
without strong improbabilities. The Jew is obstinate in
all fortunes; the persecution of fifteen hundred years
hath but confirmed them in their error. They have
already endured whatsoever may be inflicted: and have
suffered, in a bad cause, even to the condemnation of
their enemies. Persecution is a bad and indirect way
to plant religion. It hath been the unhappy method of
angry devotions, not only to confirm honest religion, but
wicked heresies and extravagant opinions. It was the
first stone and basis of our faith. None can more justly
boast of persecutions, and glory in the number and
valour of martyrs. For, to speak properly, those are
true and almost only examples of fortitude. Those that
are fetched from the field, or drawn from the actions of
the camp, are not ofttimes so truly precedents of valour
as audacity, and, at the best, attain but to some bastard
piece of fortitude. If we shall strictly examine the
circumstances and requisites which Aristotle requires<a name="FNanchor_39" id="FNanchor_39"></a><a href="#Footnote_39" class="fnanchor">[39]</a>
to true and perfect valour, we shall find the name only
in his master, Alexander, and as little in that Roman
worthy, Julius Cæsar; and if any, in that easy and
active way, have done so nobly as to deserve that name,
yet, in the passive and more terrible piece, these have
surpassed, and in a more heroical way may claim, the
honour of that title. ’Tis not in the power of every
honest faith to proceed thus far, or pass to heaven
through the flames. Every one hath it not in that full
measure, nor in so audacious and resolute a temper, as
to endure those terrible tests and trials; who, notwithstanding,
in a peaceable way, do truly adore their
Saviour, and have, no doubt, a faith acceptable in the
eyes of God.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 26.&mdash;Now, as all that die in the war are not
termed soldiers, so neither can I properly term all those
that suffer in matters of religion, martyrs. The council
of Constance condemns John Huss for a heretick;<a name="FNanchor_40" id="FNanchor_40"></a><a href="#Footnote_40" class="fnanchor">[40]</a>
the stories of his own party style him a martyr. He
must needs offend the divinity of both, that says he
was neither the one nor the other. There are many
(questionless) canonized on earth, that shall never be
saints in heaven; and have their names in histories and
martyrologies, who, in the eyes of God, are not so perfect
martyrs as was that wise heathen Socrates, that
suffered on a fundamental point of religion,&mdash;the unity
of God. I have often pitied the miserable bishop<a name="FNanchor_41" id="FNanchor_41"></a><a href="#Footnote_41" class="fnanchor">[41]</a>
that suffered in the cause of antipodes; yet cannot
choose but accuse him of as much madness, for exposing
his living on such a trifle, as those of ignorance and
folly, that condemned him. I think my conscience will
not give me the lie, if I say there are not many extant,
that, in a noble way, fear the face of death less than
myself; yet, from the moral duty I owe to the commandment
of God, and the natural respect that I tender
unto the conservation of my essence and being, I would
not perish upon a ceremony, politick points, or indifferency:
nor is my belief of that untractable temper as,
not to bow at their obstacles, or connive at matters
wherein there are not manifest impieties. The leaven,
therefore, and ferment of all, not only civil, but religious,
actions, is wisdom; without which, to commit
ourselves to the flames is homicide, and (I fear) but to
pass through one fire into another.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 27.&mdash;That miracles are ceased, I can neither
prove nor absolutely deny, much less define the time
and period of their cessation. That they survived
Christ is manifest upon record of Scripture: that they
outlived the apostles also, and were revived at the conversion
of nations, many years after, we cannot deny, if
we shall not question those writers whose testimonies
we do not controvert in points that make for our own
opinions: therefore, that may have some truth in it, that
is reported by the Jesuits of their miracles in the Indies.
I could wish it were true, or had any other testimony
than their own pens. They may easily believe those
miracles abroad, who daily conceive a greater at home&mdash;the
transmutation of those visible elements into the
body and blood of our Saviour;&mdash;for the conversion of
water into wine, which he wrought in Cana, or, what
the devil would have had him done in the wilderness,
of stones into bread, compared to this, will scarce deserve
the name of a miracle: though, indeed, to speak properly,
there is not one miracle greater than another;
they being the extraordinary effects of the hand of God,
to which all things are of an equal facility; and to
create the world as easy as one single creature. For
this is also a miracle; not only to produce effects
against or above nature, but before nature; and to
create nature, as great a miracle as to contradict or
transcend her. We do too narrowly define the power
of God, restraining it to our capacities. I hold that
God can do all things: how he should work contradictions,
I do not understand, yet dare not, therefore, deny.
I cannot see why the angel of God should question
Esdras to recall the time past, if it were beyond his
own power; or that God should pose mortality in that
which he was not able to perform himself. I will not
say that God cannot, but he will not, perform many
things, which we plainly affirm he cannot. This, I am
sure, is the mannerliest proposition; wherein, notwithstanding,
I hold no paradox: for, strictly, his power is
the same with his will; and they both, with all the rest,
do make but one God.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 28.&mdash;Therefore, that miracles have been, I do
believe; that they may yet be wrought by the living, I
do not deny: but have no confidence in those which are
fathered on the dead. And this hath ever made me
suspect the efficacy of relicks, to examine the bones,
question the habits and appertenances of saints, and
even of Christ himself. I cannot conceive why the
cross that Helena<a name="FNanchor_42" id="FNanchor_42"></a><a href="#Footnote_42" class="fnanchor">[42]</a> found, and whereon Christ himself
died, should have power to restore others unto life. I
excuse not Constantine from a fall off his horse, or a
mischief from his enemies, upon the wearing those nails
on his bridle which our Saviour bore upon the cross in
his hands. I compute among <i>piæ fraudes</i>, nor many
degrees before consecrated swords and roses, that which
Baldwin, king of Jerusalem, returned the Genoese for
their costs and pains in his wars; to wit, the ashes of
John the Baptist. Those that hold, the sanctity of their
souls doth leave behind a tincture and sacred faculty
on their bodies, speak naturally of miracles, and do not
salve the doubt. Now, one reason I tender so little
devotion unto relicks is, I think the slender and doubtful
respect which I have always held unto antiquities. For
that, indeed, which I admire, is far before antiquity;
that is, Eternity; and that is, God himself; who, though
he be styled the Ancient of Days, cannot receive the
adjunct of antiquity, who was before the world, and
shall be after it, yet is not older than it: for, in his
years there is no climacter:<a name="FNanchor_43" id="FNanchor_43"></a><a href="#Footnote_43" class="fnanchor">[43]</a> his duration is eternity;
and far more venerable than antiquity.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 29.&mdash;But, above all things, I wonder how the
curiosity of wiser heads could pass that great and indisputable
miracle, the cessation of oracles; and in what
swoon their reasons lay, to content themselves, and sit
down with such a far-fetched and ridiculous reason as
Plutarch allegeth for it.<a name="FNanchor_44" id="FNanchor_44"></a><a href="#Footnote_44" class="fnanchor">[44]</a> The Jews, that can believe
the supernatural solstice of the sun in the days of
Joshua, have yet the impudence to deny the eclipse,
which every pagan confessed, at his death; but for
this, it is evident beyond all contradiction: the devil
himself confessed it.<a name="FNanchor_VIII._8" id="FNanchor_VIII._8"></a><a href="#Footnote_VIII._8" class="fnanchor">[VIII.]</a> Certainly it is not a warrantable
curiosity, to examine the verity of Scripture by the
concordance of human history; or seek to confirm the
chronicle of Hester or Daniel by the authority of Megasthenes<a name="FNanchor_45" id="FNanchor_45"></a><a href="#Footnote_45" class="fnanchor">[45]</a>
or Herodotus. I confess, I have had an unhappy
curiosity this way, till I laughed myself out of
it with a piece of Justin, where he delivers that the
children of Israel, for being scabbed, were banished
out of Egypt. And truly, since I have understood the
occurrences of the world, and know in what counterfeiting
shapes and deceitful visards times present represent
on the stage things past, I do believe them little more
than things to come. Some have been of my own
opinion, and endeavoured to write the history of their
own lives; wherein Moses hath outgone them all, and
left not only the story of his life, but, as some will have
it, of his death also.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 30.&mdash;It is a riddle to me, how the story of
oracles hath not wormed out of the world that doubtful
conceit of spirits and witches; how so many learned
heads should so far forget their metaphysicks, and
destroy the ladder and scale of creatures, as to question
the existence of spirits; for my part, I have ever believed,
and do now know, that there are witches. They
that doubt of these do not only deny them, but spirits:
and are obliquely, and upon consequence, a sort, not of
infidels, but atheists. Those that, to confute their incredulity,
desire to see apparitions, shall, questionless,
never behold any, nor have the power to be so much as
witches. The devil hath made them already in a heresy
as capital as witchcraft; and to appear to them were
but to convert them. Of all the delusions wherewith
he deceives mortality, there is not any that puzzleth
me more than the legerdemain of changelings.<a name="FNanchor_46" id="FNanchor_46"></a><a href="#Footnote_46" class="fnanchor">[46]</a> I do
not credit those transformations of reasonable creatures
into beasts, or that the devil hath a power to transpeciate
a man into a horse, who tempted Christ (as a trial of his
divinity) to convert but stones into bread. I could
believe that spirits use with man the act of carnality;
and that in both sexes. I conceive they may assume,
steal, or contrive a body, wherein there may be action
enough to content decrepit lust, or passion to satisfy
more active veneries; yet, in both, without a possibility
of generation: and therefore that opinion, that Antichrist
should be born of the tribe of Dan, by conjunction
with the devil, is ridiculous, and a conceit fitter
for a rabbin than a Christian. I hold that the devil
doth really possess some men; the spirit of melancholy
others; the spirit of delusion others: that, as the devil
is concealed and denied by some, so God and good
angels are pretended by others, whereof the late defection
of the maid of Germany hath left a pregnant
example.<a name="FNanchor_47" id="FNanchor_47"></a><a href="#Footnote_47" class="fnanchor">[47]</a></p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 31.&mdash;Again, I believe that all that use sorceries,
incantations, and spells, are not witches, or, as we term
them, magicians. I conceive there is a traditional
magick, not learned immediately from the devil, but
at second hand from his scholars, who, having once the
secret betrayed, are able and do empirically practise
without his advice; they both proceeding upon the
principles of nature; where actives, aptly conjoined to
disposed passives, will, under any master, produce their
effects. Thus, I think, at first, a great part of philosophy
was witchcraft; which, being afterward derived to one
another, proved but philosophy, and was indeed no
more than the honest effects of nature:&mdash;what invented
by us, is philosophy; learned from him, is magick.
We do surely owe the discovery of many secrets to the
discovery of good and bad angels. I could never pass
that sentence of Paracelsus without an asterisk, or annotation:
“<i>ascendens<a name="FNanchor_IX._9" id="FNanchor_IX._9"></a><a href="#Footnote_IX._9" class="fnanchor">[IX.]</a> constellatum multa revelat quærentibus
magnalia naturæ</i>, i.e. <i>opera Dei</i>.” I do think that
many mysteries ascribed to our own inventions have
been the corteous revelations of spirits; for those noble
essences in heaven bear a friendly regard unto their
fellow-nature on earth; and therefore believe that
those many prodigies and ominous prognosticks, which
forerun the ruins of states, princes, and private persons,
are the charitable premonitions of good angels, which
more careless inquiries term but the effects of chance
and nature.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 32.&mdash;Now, besides these particular and divided
spirits, there may be (for aught I know) a universal and
common spirit to the whole world. It was the opinion
of Plato, and is yet of the hermetical philosophers.
If there be a common nature, that unites and ties the
scattered and divided individuals into one species, why
may there not be one that unites them all? However,
I am sure there is a common spirit, that plays within
us, yet makes no part in us; and that is, the spirit of
God; the fire and scintillation of that noble and mighty
essence, which is the life and radical heat of spirits, and
those essences that know not the virtue of the sun; a fire
quite contrary to the fire of hell. This is that gentle
heat that brooded on the waters, and in six days hatched
the world; this is that irradiation that dispels the mists
of hell, the clouds of horror, fear, sorrow, despair; and
preserves the region of the mind in serenity. Whatsoever
feels not the warm gale and gentle ventilation of
this spirit (though I feel his pulse), I dare not say he
lives; for truly without this, to me, there is no heat
under the tropick; nor any light, though I dwelt in
the body of the sun.</p>

<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza">
       <div class="verse">“As when the labouring sun hath wrought his track</div>
       <div class="verse">Up to the top of lofty Cancer’s back,</div>
       <div class="verse">The icy ocean cracks, the frozen pole</div>
       <div class="verse">Thaws with the heat of the celestial coal;</div>
       <div class="verse">So when thy absent beams begin t’ impart</div>
       <div class="verse">Again a solstice on my frozen heart,</div>
       <div class="verse">My winter’s o’er, my drooping spirits sing,</div>
       <div class="verse">And every part revives into a spring.</div>
       <div class="verse">But if thy quickening beams a while decline,</div>
       <div class="verse">And with their light bless not this orb of mine,</div>
       <div class="verse">A chilly frost surpriseth every member.</div>
       <div class="verse">And in the midst of June I feel December.</div>
       <div class="verse">Oh how this earthly temper doth debase</div>
       <div class="verse">The noble soul, in this her humble place!</div>
       <div class="verse">Whose wingy nature ever doth aspire</div>
       <div class="verse">To reach that place whence first it took its fire.</div>
       <div class="verse">These flames I feel, which in my heart do dwell,</div>
       <div class="verse">Are not thy beams, but take their fire from hell.</div>
       <div class="verse">Oh quench them all! and let thy Light divine</div>
       <div class="verse">Be as the sun to this poor orb of mine!</div>
       <div class="verse">And to thy sacred Spirit convert those fires,</div>
       <div class="verse">Whose earthly fumes choke my devout aspires!”</div>
</div></div></div>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 33.&mdash;Therefore, for spirits, I am so far from
denying their existence, that I could easily believe, that
not only whole countries, but particular persons, have
their tutelary and guardian angels. It is not a new
opinion of the Church of Rome, but an old one of
Pythagoras and Plato: there is no heresy in it: and if
not manifestly defined in Scripture, yet it is an opinion
of a good and wholesome use in the course and actions
of a man’s life; and would serve as an hypothesis to salve
many doubts, whereof common philosophy affordeth no
solution. Now, if you demand my opinion and metaphysicks
of their natures, I confess them very shallow;
most of them in a negative way, like that of God; or
in a comparative, between ourselves and fellow-creatures:
for there is in this universe a stair, or manifest scale, of
creatures, rising not disorderly, or in confusion, but with
a comely method and proportion. Between creatures of
mere existence and things of life there is a large disproportion
of nature: between plants and animals, or creatures
of sense, a wider difference: between them and man, a
far greater: and if the proportion hold on, between man
and angels there should be yet a greater. We do not
comprehend their natures, who retain the first definition
of Porphyry;<a name="FNanchor_48" id="FNanchor_48"></a><a href="#Footnote_48" class="fnanchor">[48]</a> and distinguish them from ourselves by
immortality: for, before his fall, man also was immortal:
yet must we needs affirm that he had a different
essence from the angels. Having, therefore, no certain
knowledge of their nature, ’tis no bad method of the
schools, whatsoever perfection we find obscurely in ourselves,
in a more complete and absolute way to ascribe
unto them. I believe they have an extemporary knowledge,
and, upon the first motion of their reason, do
what we cannot without study or deliberation: that
they know things by their forms, and define, by specifical
difference what we describe by accidents and properties:
and therefore probabilities to us may be
demonstrations unto them: that they have knowledge
not only of the specifical, but numerical, forms of individuals,
and understand by what reserved difference
each single hypostatis (besides the relation to its species)
becomes its numerical self: that, as the soul hath a
power to move the body it informs, so there’s a faculty
to move any, though inform none: ours upon restraint
of time, place, and distance: but that invisible hand
that conveyed Habakkuk to the lion’s den, or Philip to
Azotus, infringeth this rule, and hath a secret conveyance,
wherewith mortality is not acquainted. If they
have that intuitive knowledge, whereby, as in reflection,
they behold the thoughts of one another, I cannot
peremptorily deny but they know a great part of ours.
They that, to refute the invocation of saints, have denied
that they have any knowledge of our affairs below,
have proceeded too far, and must pardon my opinion,
till I can thoroughly answer that piece of Scripture,
“At the conversion of a sinner, the angels in heaven
rejoice.” I cannot, with those in that great father,<a name="FNanchor_49" id="FNanchor_49"></a><a href="#Footnote_49" class="fnanchor">[49]</a>
securely interpret the work of the first day, <i>fiat lux</i>, to
the creation of angels; though I confess there is not
any creature that hath so near a glimpse of their nature
as light in the sun and elements: we style it a bare
accident; but, where it subsists alone, ’tis a spiritual
substance, and may be an angel: in brief, conceive light
invisible, and that is a spirit.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 34.&mdash;These are certainly the magisterial and
masterpieces of the Creator; the flower, or, as we may
say, the best part of nothing; actually existing, what
we are but in hopes, and probability. We are only that
amphibious piece, between a corporeal and a spiritual
essence; that middle form, that links those two together,
and makes good the method of God and nature,
that jumps not from extremes, but unites the incompatible
distances by some middle and participating
natures. That we are the breath and similitude of God,
it is indisputable, and upon record of Holy Scripture:
but to call ourselves a microcosm, or little world, I
thought it only a pleasant trope of rhetorick, till my
near judgment and second thoughts told me there was
a real truth therein. For, first we are a rude mass, and
in the rank of creatures which only are, and have a dull
kind of being, not yet privileged with life, or preferred
to sense or reason; next we live the life of plants, the
life of animals, the life of men, and at last the life of
spirits: running on, in one mysterious nature, those five
kinds of existencies, which comprehend the creatures,
not only of the world, but of the universe. Thus is
man that great and true <i>amphibium</i>, whose nature is
disposed to live, not only like other creatures in divers
elements, but in divided and distinguished worlds; for
though there be but one to sense, there are two to reason,
the one visible, the other invisible; whereof Moses
seems to have left description, and of the other so
obscurely, that some parts thereof are yet in controversy.
And truly, for the first chapters of Genesis, I must confess
a great deal of obscurity; though divines have, to
the power of human reason, endeavoured to make all
go in a literal meaning, yet those allegorical interpretations
are also probable, and perhaps the mystical method
of Moses, bred up in the hieroglyphical schools of the
Egyptians.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 35.&mdash;Now for that immaterial world, methinks
we need not wander so far as the first moveable; for,
even in this material fabrick, the spirits walk as freely
exempt from the affection of time, place, and motion, as
beyond the extremest circumference. Do but extract
from the corpulency of bodies, or resolve things beyond
their first matter, and you discover the habitation of
angels; which if I call the ubiquitary and omnipresent
essence of God, I hope I shall not offend divinity: for,
before the creation of the world, God was really all
things. For the angels he created no new world, or
determinate mansion, and therefore they are everywhere
where is his essence, and do live, at a distance even, in
himself. That God made all things for man, is in some
sense true; yet, not so far as to subordinate the creation
of those purer creatures unto ours; though, as ministering
spirits, they do, and are willing to fulfil the will of
God in these lower and sublunary affairs of man. God
made all things for himself; and it is impossible he
should make them for any other end than his own glory:
it is all he can receive, and all that is without himself.
For, honour being an external adjunct, and in the
honourer rather than in the person honoured, it was
necessary to make a creature, from whom he might receive
this homage: and that is, in the other world,
angels, in this, man; which when we neglect, we forget
God, not only to repent that he hath made the world,
but that he hath sworn he would not destroy it. That
there is but one world, is a conclusion of faith; Aristotle
with all his philosophy hath not been able to prove it:
and as weakly that the world was eternal; that dispute
much troubled the pen of the philosophers, but Moses
decided that question, and all is salved with the
new term of a creation,&mdash;that is, a production of something
out of nothing. And what is that?&mdash;whatsoever
is opposite to something; or, more exactly, that which
is truly contrary unto God: for he only is; all others
have an existence with dependency, and are something
but by a distinction. And herein is divinity conformant
unto philosophy, and generation not only founded on
contrarieties, but also creation. God, being all things,
is contrary unto nothing; out of which were made all
things, and so nothing became something, and omneity<a name="FNanchor_50" id="FNanchor_50"></a><a href="#Footnote_50" class="fnanchor">[50]</a>
informed nullity into an essence.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 36.&mdash;The whole creation is a mystery, and particularly
that of man. At the blast of his mouth were
the rest of the creatures made; and at his bare word
they started out of nothing: but in the frame of man
(as the text describes it) he played the sensible operator,
and seemed not so much to create as make him. When
he had separated the materials of other creatures, there
consequently resulted a form and soul; but, having
raised the walls of man, he was driven to a second and
harder creation,&mdash;of a substance like himself, an incorruptible
and immortal soul. For these two affections
we have the philosophy and opinion of the heathens,
the flat affirmative of Plato, and not a negative from
Aristotle. There is another scruple cast in by divinity
concerning its production, much disputed in the German
auditories, and with that indifferency and equality of
arguments, as leave the controversy undetermined. I
am not of Paracelsus’s mind, that boldly delivers a receipt
to make a man without conjunction; yet cannot
but wonder at the multitude of heads that do deny
traduction, having no other arguments to confirm their
belief than that rhetorical sentence and <i>antimetathesis</i><a name="FNanchor_51" id="FNanchor_51"></a><a href="#Footnote_51" class="fnanchor">[51]</a>
of Augustine, “<i>creando infunditur, infundendo creatur</i>.”
Either opinion will consist well enough with religion:
yet I should rather incline to this, did not one objection
haunt me, not wrung from speculations and subtleties,
but from common sense and observation; not pick’d
from the leaves of any author, but bred amongst the
weeds and tares of my own brain. And this is a conclusion
from the equivocal and monstrous productions
in the copulation of a man with a beast: for if the soul
of man be not transmitted and transfused in the seed of
the parents, why are not those productions merely
beasts, but have also an impression and tincture of
reason in as high a measure, as it can evidence itself in
those improper organs? Nor, truly, can I peremptorily
deny that the soul, in this her sublunary estate, is
wholly, and in all acceptions, inorganical: but that,
for the performance of her ordinary actions, is required
not only a symmetry and proper disposition of organs,
but a crasis and temper correspondent to its operations;
yet is not this mass of flesh and visible structure the
instrument and proper corpse of the soul, but rather of
sense, and that the hand of reason. In our study of
anatomy there is a mass of mysterious philosophy, and
such as reduced the very heathens to divinity; yet,
amongst all those rare discoveries and curious pieces I
find in the fabrick of man, I do not so much content
myself, as in that I find not,&mdash;that is, no organ or
instrument for the rational soul; for in the brain,
which we term the seat of reason, there is not anything
of moment more than I can discover in the crany of a
beast; and this is a sensible and no inconsiderable
argument of the inorganity of the soul, at least in that
sense we usually so conceive it. Thus we are men, and
we know not how; there is something in us that can
be without us, and will be after us, though it is strange
that it hath no history what it was before us, nor cannot
tell how it entered in us.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 37.&mdash;Now, for these walls of flesh, wherein the
soul doth seem to be immured before the resurrection,
it is nothing but an elemental composition, and a
fabrick that must fall to ashes. “All flesh is grass,” is
not only metaphorically, but literally, true; for all
those creatures we behold are but the herbs of the field,
digested into flesh in them, or more remotely carnified
in ourselves. Nay, further, we are what we all abhor,
<i>anthropophagi</i>, and cannibals, devourers not only of men,
but of ourselves; and that not in an allegory but a
positive truth: for all this mass of flesh which we behold,
came in at our mouths: this frame we look upon,
hath been upon our trenchers; in brief, we have devoured
ourselves. I cannot believe the wisdom of Pythagoras
did ever positively, and in a literal sense, affirm his
metempsychosis, or impossible transmigration of the
souls of men into beasts. Of all metamorphoses or
transmigrations, I believe only one, that is of Lot’s
wife; for that of Nabuchodonosor proceeded not so far.
In all others I conceive there is no further verity than
is contained in their implicit sense and morality. I
believe that the whole frame of a beast doth perish, and
is left in the same state after death as before it was
materialled unto life: that the souls of men know
neither contrary nor corruption; that they subsist beyond
the body, and outlive death by the privilege of
their proper natures, and without a miracle: that the
souls of the faithful, as they leave earth, take possession
of heaven; that those apparitions and ghosts of departed
persons are not the wandering souls of men, but the
unquiet walks of devils, prompting and suggesting us
unto mischief, blood, and villany; instilling and stealing
into our hearts that the blessed spirits are not at
rest in their graves, but wander, solicitous of the affairs
of the world. But that those phantasms appear often,
and do frequent cemeteries, charnel-houses, and churches,
it is because those are the dormitories of the dead, where
the devil, like an insolent champion, beholds with pride
the spoils and trophies of his victory over Adam.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 38.&mdash;This is that dismal conquest we all deplore,
that makes us so often cry, O Adam, <i>quid fecisti?</i> I
thank God I have not those strait ligaments, or narrow
obligations to the world, as to dote on life, or be convulsed
and tremble at the name of death. Not that I
am insensible of the dread and horror thereof; or, by
raking into the bowels of the deceased, continual sight
of anatomies, skeletons, or cadaverous relicks, like vespilloes,
or gravemakers, I am become stupid, or have
forgot the apprehension of mortality; but that, marshalling
all the horrors, and contemplating the extremities
thereof, I find not anything therein able to daunt the
courage of a man, much less a well-resolved Christian;
and therefore am not angry at the error of our first
parents, or unwilling to bear a part of this common
fate, and, like the best of them, to die; that is, to
cease to breathe, to take a farewell of the elements; to
be a kind of nothing for a moment; to be within one
instant of a spirit. When I take a full view and circle
of myself without this reasonable moderator, and equal
piece of justice, death, I do conceive myself the miserablest
person extant. Were there not another life that
I hope for, all the vanities of this world should not
entreat a moment’s breath from me. Could the devil
work my belief to imagine I could never die, I would
not outlive that very thought. I have so abject a conceit
of this common way of existence, this retaining to
the sun and elements, I cannot think this is to be a
man, or to live according to the dignity of humanity.
In expectation of a better, I can with patience embrace
this life; yet, in my best meditations, do often defy
death. I honour any man that contemns it; nor can I
highly love any that is afraid of it: this makes me
naturally love a soldier, and honour those tattered and
contemptible regiments, that will die at the command
of a sergeant. For a pagan there may be some motives
to be in love with life; but, for a Christian to be amazed
at death, I see not how he can escape this dilemma&mdash;that
he is too sensible of this life, or hopeless of the
life to come.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 39.&mdash;Some divines<a name="FNanchor_52" id="FNanchor_52"></a><a href="#Footnote_52" class="fnanchor">[52]</a> count Adam thirty years
old at his creation, because they suppose him created in
the perfect age and stature of man: and surely we are
all out of the computation of our age; and every man
is some months older than he bethinks him; for we
live, move, have a being, and are subject to the actions
of the elements, and the malice of diseases, in that other
world, the truest microcosm, the womb of our mother;
for besides that general and common existence we are
conceived to hold in our chaos, and whilst we sleep
within the bosom of our causes, we enjoy a being and
life in three distinct worlds, wherein we receive most
manifest gradations. In that obscure world, the womb
of our mother, our time is short, computed by the
moon; yet longer than the days of many creatures that
behold the sun; ourselves being not yet without life,
sense, and reason;<a name="FNanchor_53" id="FNanchor_53"></a><a href="#Footnote_53" class="fnanchor">[53]</a> though, for the manifestation of
its actions, it awaits the opportunity of objects, and
seems to live there but in its root and soul of vegetation.
Entering afterwards upon the scene of the world, we
arise up and become another creature; performing the
reasonable actions of man, and obscurely manifesting
that part of divinity in us, but not in complement and
perfection, till we have once more cast our secundine,
that is, this slough of flesh, and are delivered into the
last world, that is, that ineffable place of Paul, that
proper <i>ubi</i> of spirits. The smattering I have of the
philosopher’s stone (which is something more than the
perfect exaltation<a name="FNanchor_54" id="FNanchor_54"></a><a href="#Footnote_54" class="fnanchor">[54]</a> of gold) hath taught me a great deal
of divinity, and instructed my belief, how that immortal
spirit and incorruptible substance of my soul may lie
obscure, and sleep a while within this house of flesh.
Those strange and mystical transmigrations that I have
observed in silkworms turned my philosophy into
divinity. There is in these works of nature, which
seem to puzzle reason, something divine; and hath
more in it than the eye of a common spectator doth
discover.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 40.&mdash;I am naturally bashful; nor hath conversation,
age, or travel, been able to effront or enharden
me; yet I have one part of modesty, which I have
seldom discovered in another, that is (to speak truly),
I am not so much afraid of death as ashamed thereof;
’tis the very disgrace and ignominy of our natures, that
in a moment can so disfigure us, that our nearest
friends, wife, and children, stand afraid, and start at us.
The birds and beasts of the field, that before, in a
natural fear, obeyed us, forgetting all allegiance, begin
to prey upon us. This very conceit hath, in a tempest,
disposed and left me willing to be swallowed up in the
abyss of waters, wherein I had perished unseen, unpitied,
without wondering eyes, tears of pity, lectures
of mortality, and none had said, “<i>Quantum mutatus ab
illo!</i>” Not that I am ashamed of the anatomy of my
parts, or can accuse nature of playing the bungler in
any part of me, or my own vicious life for contracting
any shameful disease upon me, whereby I might not
call myself as wholesome a morsel for the worms as
any.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 41.&mdash;Some, upon the courage of a fruitful issue,
wherein, as in the truest chronicle, they seem to outlive
themselves, can with greater patience away with death.
This conceit and counterfeit subsisting in our progenies
seems to be a mere fallacy, unworthy the desire of a
man, that can but conceive a thought of the next world;
who, in a nobler ambition, should desire to live in his
substance in heaven, rather than his name and shadow
in the earth. And therefore, at my death, I mean to
take a total adieu of the world, not caring for a monument,
history, or epitaph; not so much as the bare
memory of my name to be found anywhere, but in the
universal register of God. I am not yet so cynical, as
to approve the testament of Diogenes,<a name="FNanchor_X._10" id="FNanchor_X._10"></a><a href="#Footnote_X._10" class="fnanchor">[X.]</a> nor do I altogether
allow that rodomontado of Lucan;<a name="FNanchor_XI._11" id="FNanchor_XI._11"></a><a href="#Footnote_XI._11" class="fnanchor">[XI.]</a></p>

<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza">
       <div class="verse">&mdash;&mdash;“<i>Cœlo tegitur, qui non habet urnam.</i>”</div>
</div></div></div>

<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza">
       <div class="verse">He that unburied lies wants not his hearse;</div>
       <div class="verse">For unto him a tomb’s the universe.</div>
</div></div></div>

<p>but commend, in my calmer judgment, those ingenuous
intentions that desire to sleep by the urns of their
fathers, and strive to go the neatest way unto corruption.
I do not envy the temper<a name="FNanchor_55" id="FNanchor_55"></a><a href="#Footnote_55" class="fnanchor">[55]</a> of crows and daws, nor the
numerous and weary days of our fathers before the
flood. If there be any truth in astrology, I may outlive
a jubilee;<a name="FNanchor_56" id="FNanchor_56"></a><a href="#Footnote_56" class="fnanchor">[56]</a> as yet I have not seen one revolution of
Saturn,<a name="FNanchor_57" id="FNanchor_57"></a><a href="#Footnote_57" class="fnanchor">[57]</a> nor hath my pulse beat thirty years, and yet,
excepting one,<a name="FNanchor_58" id="FNanchor_58"></a><a href="#Footnote_58" class="fnanchor">[58]</a> have seen the ashes of, and left under
ground, all the kings of Europe; have been contemporary
to three emperors, four grand signiors, and as
many popes: methinks I have outlived myself, and
begin to be weary of the sun; I have shaken hands with
delight in my warm blood and canicular days; I
perceive I do anticipate the vices of age; the world to
me is but a dream or mock-show, and we all therein but
pantaloons and anticks, to my severer contemplations.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 42.&mdash;It is not, I confess, an unlawful prayer to
desire to surpass the days of our Saviour, or wish to
outlive that age wherein he thought fittest to die; yet, if
(as divinity affirms) there shall be no grey hairs in heaven,
but all shall rise in the perfect state of men, we do
but outlive those perfections in this world, to be recalled
unto them by a greater miracle in the next, and run on
here but to be retrograde hereafter. Were there any
hopes to outlive vice, or a point to be superannuated
from sin, it were worthy our knees to implore the days
of Methuselah. But age doth not rectify, but incurvate
our natures, turning bad dispositions into worser habits,
and (like diseases) brings on incurable vices; for every
day, as we grow weaker in age, we grow stronger in sin,
and the number of our days doth but make our sins
innumerable. The same vice, committed at sixteen, is
not the same, though it agrees in all other circumstances,
as at forty; but swells and doubles from the
circumstance of our ages, wherein, besides the constant
and inexcusable habit of transgressing, the maturity of
our judgment cuts off pretence unto excuse or pardon.
Every sin, the oftener it is committed, the more it
acquireth in the quality of evil; as it succeeds in time,
so it proceeds in degrees of badness; for as they proceed
they ever multiply, and, like figures in arithmetick, the
last stands for more than all that went before it. And,
though I think no man can live well once, but he that
could live twice, yet, for my own part, I would not live
over my hours past, or begin again the thread of my
days; not upon Cicero’s ground,<a name="FNanchor_XII._12" id="FNanchor_XII._12"></a><a href="#Footnote_XII._12" class="fnanchor">[XII.]</a> because I have lived
them well, but for fear I should live them worse. I
find my growing judgment daily instruct me how to
be better, but my untamed affections and confirmed
vitiosity make me daily do worse. I find in my confirmed
age the same sins I discovered in my youth; I
committed many then because I was a child; and,
because I commit them still, I am yet an infant.
Therefore I perceive a man may be twice a child,
before the days of dotage; and stand in need of Æson’s
bath<a name="FNanchor_59" id="FNanchor_59"></a><a href="#Footnote_59" class="fnanchor">[59]</a> before threescore.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 43.&mdash;And truly there goes a deal of providence
to produce a man’s life unto threescore; there is more
required than an able temper for those years: though
the radical humour contain in it sufficient oil for seventy,
yet I perceive in some it gives no light past thirty: men
assign not all the causes of long life, that write whole
books thereof. They that found themselves on the
radical balsam, or vital sulphur of the parts, determine
not why Abel lived not so long as Adam. There is
therefore a secret gloom or bottom of our days: ’twas
his wisdom to determine them: but his perpetual and
waking providence that fulfils and accomplisheth them;
wherein the spirits, ourselves, and all the creatures of
God, in a secret and disputed way, do execute his will.
Let them not therefore complain of immaturity that die
about thirty: they fall but like the whole world, whose
solid and well-composed substance must not expect the
duration and period of its constitution: when all things
are completed in it, its age is accomplished; and the
last and general fever may as naturally destroy it before
six thousand,<a name="FNanchor_60" id="FNanchor_60"></a><a href="#Footnote_60" class="fnanchor">[60]</a> as me before forty. There is therefore
some other hand that twines the thread of life than that
of nature: we are not only ignorant in antipathies and
occult qualities; our ends are as obscure as our beginnings;
the line of our days is drawn by night, and the
various effects therein by a pencil that is invisible;
wherein, though we confess our ignorance, I am sure
we do not err if we say, it is the hand of God.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 44.&mdash;I am much taken with two verses of Lucan,
since I have been able not only, as we do at school, to
construe, but understand:</p>

<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza">
       <div class="verse">“<i>Victurosque Dei celant ut vivere durent,</i></div>
       <div class="verse"><i>Felix esse mori.</i>”<a name="FNanchor_XIII._13" id="FNanchor_XIII._13"></a><a href="#Footnote_XIII._13" class="fnanchor">[XIII.]</a></div>
</div></div></div>

<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza">
       <div class="verse">We’re all deluded, vainly searching ways</div>
       <div class="verse">To make us happy by the length of days;</div>
       <div class="verse">For cunningly, to make’s protract this breath,</div>
       <div class="verse">The gods conceal the happiness of death.</div>
</div></div></div>

<p>There be many excellent strains in that poet, wherewith
his stoical genius hath liberally supplied him:
and truly there are singular pieces in the philosophy
of Zeno,<a name="FNanchor_61" id="FNanchor_61"></a><a href="#Footnote_61" class="fnanchor">[61]</a> and doctrine of the stoics, which I perceive,
delivered in a pulpit, pass for current divinity: yet
herein are they in extremes, that can allow a man to be
his own assassin, and so highly extol the end and suicide
of Cato. This is indeed not to fear death, but yet to be
afraid of life. It is a brave act of valour to contemn
death; but, where life is more terrible than death, it
is then the truest valour to dare to live: and herein
religion hath taught us a noble example; for all the
valiant acts of Curtius, Scævola, or Codrus, do not
parallel, or match, that one of Job; and sure there is
no torture to the rack of a disease, nor any poniards in
death itself, like those in the way or prologue unto it.
“<i>Emori nolo, sed me esse mortuum nihil curo</i>;” I would
not die, but care not to be dead. Were I of Cæsar’s
religion,<a name="FNanchor_62" id="FNanchor_62"></a><a href="#Footnote_62" class="fnanchor">[62]</a> I should be of his desires, and wish rather to
go off at one blow, than to be sawed in pieces by the
grating torture of a disease. Men that look no further
than their outsides, think health an appurtenance unto
life, and quarrel with their constitutions for being sick;
but I, that have examined the parts of man, and know
upon what tender filaments that fabrick hangs, do
wonder that we are not always so; and, considering the
thousand doors that lead to death, do thank my God
that we can die but once. ’Tis not only the mischief
of diseases, and the villany of poisons, that make an
end of us; we vainly accuse the fury of guns, and the
new inventions of death:&mdash;it is in the power of every
hand to destroy us, and we are beholden unto every
one we meet, he doth not kill us. There is therefore
but one comfort left, that though it be in the power of
the weakest arm to take away life, it is not in the
strongest to deprive us of death. God would not exempt
himself from that; the misery of immortality
in the flesh he undertook not, that was immortal.
Certainly there is no happiness within this circle of
flesh; nor is it in the opticks of these eyes to behold
felicity. The first day of our jubilee is death; the
devil hath therefore failed of his desires; we are happier
with death than we should have been without it:
there is no misery but in himself, where there is no
end of misery; and so indeed, in his own sense, the
stoic is in the right.<a name="FNanchor_63" id="FNanchor_63"></a><a href="#Footnote_63" class="fnanchor">[63]</a> He forgets that he can die, who
complains of misery: we are in the power of no calamity
while death is in our own.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 45.&mdash;Now, besides this literal and positive kind
of death, there are others whereof divines make mention,
and those, I think, not merely metaphorical, as
mortification, dying unto sin and the world. Therefore,
I say, every man hath a double horoscope; one of
his humanity,&mdash;his birth, another of his Christianity,&mdash;his
baptism: and from this do I compute or calculate
my nativity; not reckoning those <i>horæ combustæ</i>,<a name="FNanchor_64" id="FNanchor_64"></a><a href="#Footnote_64" class="fnanchor">[64]</a> and
odd days, or esteeming myself anything, before I was
my Saviour’s and enrolled in the register of Christ.
Whosoever enjoys not this life, I count him but an
apparition, though he wear about him the sensible
affections of flesh. In these moral acceptions, the way
to be immortal is to die daily; nor can I think I have
the true theory of death, when I contemplate a skull or
behold a skeleton with those vulgar imaginations it
casts upon us. I have therefore enlarged that common
<i>memento mori</i> into a more Christian memorandum,
<i>memento quatuor novissima</i>,&mdash;those four inevitable
points of us all, death, judgment, heaven, and hell.
Neither did the contemplations of the heathens rest in
their graves, without a further thought, of Rhadamanth<a name="FNanchor_65" id="FNanchor_65"></a><a href="#Footnote_65" class="fnanchor">[65]</a>
or some judicial proceeding after death, though
in another way, and upon suggestion of their natural
reasons. I cannot but marvel from what sibyl or oracle
they stole the prophecy of the world’s destruction by
fire, or whence Lucan learned to say&mdash;</p>

<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza">
       <div class="verse">“<i>Communis mundo superest rogus, ossibus astra</i></div>
       <div class="verse"><i>Misturus&mdash;&mdash;</i>”<a name="FNanchor_XIV._14" id="FNanchor_XIV._14"></a><a href="#Footnote_XIV._14" class="fnanchor">[XIV.]</a></div>
</div></div></div>

<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza">
       <div class="verse">There yet remains to th’ world one common fire,</div>
       <div class="verse">Wherein our bones with stars shall make one pyre.</div>
</div></div></div>

<p>I believe the world grows near its end; yet is neither
old nor decayed, nor will ever perish upon the ruins of
its own principles. As the work of creation was above
nature, so its adversary, annihilation; without which
the world hath not its end, but its mutation. Now,
what force should be able to consume it thus far, without
the breath of God, which is the truest consuming
flame, my philosophy cannot inform me. Some believe
there went not a minute to the world’s creation, nor
shall there go to its destruction; those six days, so
punctually described, make not to them one moment,
but rather seem to manifest the method and idea of
that great work of the intellect of God than the manner
how he proceeded in its operation. I cannot dream that
there should be at the last day any such judicial proceeding,
or calling to the bar, as indeed the Scripture
seems to imply, and the literal commentators do conceive:
for unspeakable mysteries in the Scriptures are
often delivered in a vulgar and illustrative way, and,
being written unto man, are delivered, not as they truly
are, but as they may be understood; wherein, notwithstanding,
the different interpretations according to different
capacities may stand firm with our devotion, nor
be any way prejudicial to each single edification.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 46.&mdash;Now, to determine the day and year of this
inevitable time, is not only convincible and statute
madness, but also manifest impiety. How shall we
interpret Elias’s six thousand years, or imagine the
secret communicated to a Rabbi which God hath denied
unto his angels? It had been an excellent quære
to have posed the devil of Delphos, and must needs
have forced him to some strange amphibology. It hath
not only mocked the predictions of sundry astrologers
in ages past, but the prophecies of many melancholy
heads in these present; who, neither understanding
reasonably things past nor present, pretend a knowledge
of things to come; heads ordained only to manifest
the incredible effects of melancholy and to fulfil old
prophecies,<a name="FNanchor_XV._15" id="FNanchor_XV._15"></a><a href="#Footnote_XV._15" class="fnanchor">[XV.]</a> rather than be the authors of new. “In
those days there shall come wars and rumours of wars”
to me seems no prophecy, but a constant truth in all
times verified since it was pronounced. “There shall
be signs in the moon and stars;” how comes he then
like a thief in the night, when he gives an item of his
coming? That common sign, drawn from the revelation
of antichrist, is as obscure as any; in our common
compute he hath been come these many years; but,
for my own part, to speak freely, I am half of opinion
that antichrist is the philosopher’s stone in divinity, for
the discovery and invention whereof, though there be
prescribed rules, and probable inductions, yet hath
hardly any man attained the perfect discovery thereof.
That general opinion, that the world grows near its
end, hath possessed all ages past as nearly as ours. I
am afraid that the souls that now depart cannot escape
that lingering expostulation of the saints under the
altar, “<i>quousque, Domine?</i>” how long, O Lord? and groan
in the expectation of the great jubilee.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 47.&mdash;This is the day that must make good that
great attribute of God, his justice; that must reconcile
those unanswerable doubts that torment the wisest
understandings; and reduce those seeming inequalities
and respective distributions in this world, to an equality
and recompensive justice in the next. This is that one
day, that shall include and comprehend all that went
before it; wherein, as in the last scene, all the actors
must enter, to complete and make up the catastrophe of
this great piece. This is the day whose memory hath,
only, power to make us honest in the dark, and to be
virtuous without a witness. “<i>Ipsa sui pretium virtus sibi</i>,”
that virtue is her own reward, is but a cold principle,
and not able to maintain our variable resolutions in a
constant and settled way of goodness. I have practised
that honest artifice of Seneca,<a name="FNanchor_66" id="FNanchor_66"></a><a href="#Footnote_66" class="fnanchor">[66]</a> and, in my retired and
solitary imaginations to detain me from the foulness of
vice, have fancied to myself the presence of my dear and
worthiest friends, before whom I should lose my head
rather than be vicious; yet herein I found that there
was nought but moral honesty; and this was not to be
virtuous for his sake who must reward us at the last. I
have tried if I could reach that great resolution of his,
to be honest without a thought of heaven or hell; and,
indeed I found, upon a natural inclination, and inbred
loyalty unto virtue, that I could serve her without a
livery, yet not in that resolved and venerable way, but
that the frailty of my nature, upon an easy temptation,
might be induced to forget her. The life, therefore, and
spirit of all our actions is the resurrection, and a stable
apprehension that our ashes shall enjoy the fruit of our
pious endeavours; without this, all religion is a fallacy,
and those impieties of Lucian, Euripides, and Julian, are
no blasphemies, but subtile verities; and atheists have
been the only philosophers.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 48.&mdash;How shall the dead arise, is no question of
my faith; to believe only possibilities is not faith, but
mere philosophy. Many things are true in divinity,
which are neither inducible by reason nor confirmable
by sense; and many things in philosophy confirmable
by sense, yet not inducible by reason. Thus it is impossible,
by any solid or demonstrative reasons, to persuade
a man to believe the conversion of the needle to
the north; though this be possible and true, and easily
credible, upon a single experiment unto the sense. I
believe that our estranged and divided ashes shall unite
again; that our separated dust, after so many pilgrimages
and transformations into the parts of minerals,
plants, animals, elements, shall, at the voice of God,
return into their primitive shapes, and join again to
make up their primary and predestinate forms. As at
the creation there was a separation of that confused
mass into its pieces; so at the destruction thereof there
shall be a separation into its distinct individuals. As,
at the creation of the world, all the distinct species that
we behold lay involved in one mass, till the fruitful
voice of God separated this united multitude into its
several species, so, at the last day, when those corrupted
relicks shall be scattered in the wilderness of forms, and
seem to have forgot their proper habits, God, by a powerful
voice, shall command them back into their proper
shapes, and call them out by their single individuals.
Then shall appear the fertility of Adam, and the magick
of that sperm that hath dilated into so many millions.
I have often beheld, as a miracle, that artificial resurrection
and revivification of mercury, how being mortified
into a thousand shapes, it assumes again its own,
and returns into its numerical self. Let us speak
naturally, and like philosophers. The forms of alterable
bodies in these sensible corruptions perish not;
nor, as we imagine, wholly quit their mansions; but
retire and contract themselves into their secret and
unaccessible parts; where they may best protect themselves
from the action of their antagonist. A plant or
vegetable consumed to ashes to a contemplative and
school-philosopher seems utterly destroyed, and the
form to have taken his leave for ever; but to a sensible
artist the forms are not perished, but withdrawn into
their incombustible part, where they lie secure from the
action of that devouring element. This is made good
by experience, which can from the ashes of a plant
revive the plant, and from its cinders recall it into its
stalk and leaves again.<a name="FNanchor_67" id="FNanchor_67"></a><a href="#Footnote_67" class="fnanchor">[67]</a> What the art of man can do
in these inferior pieces, what blasphemy is it to affirm
the finger of God cannot do in those more perfect and
sensible structures? This is that mystical philosophy,
from whence no true scholar becomes an atheist, but
from the visible effects of nature grows up a real
divine, and beholds not in a dream, as Ezekiel, but
in an ocular and visible object, the types of his resurrection.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 49.&mdash;Now, the necessary mansions of our restored
selves are those two contrary and incompatible places
we call heaven and hell. To define them, or strictly to
determine what and where these are, surpasseth my
divinity. That elegant apostle, which seemed to have
a glimpse of heaven, hath left but a negative description
thereof; which “neither eye hath seen, nor ear hath
heard, nor can enter into the heart of man:” he was
translated out of himself to behold it; but, being returned
into himself, could not express it. Saint John’s
description by emeralds, chrysolites, and precious stones,
is too weak to express the material heaven we behold.
Briefly, therefore, where the soul hath the full measure
and complement of happiness; where the boundless
appetite of that spirit remains completely satisfied that
it can neither desire addition nor alteration; that, I
think, is truly heaven: and this can only be in the
enjoyment of that essence, whose infinite goodness is
able to terminate the desires of itself, and the unsatiable
wishes of ours. Wherever God will thus manifest himself,
there is heaven, though within the circle of this
sensible world. Thus, the soul of man may be in
heaven anywhere, even within the limits of his own
proper body; and when it ceaseth to live in the body it
may remain in its own soul, that is, its Creator. And
thus we may say that Saint Paul, whether in the body
or out of the body, was yet in heaven. To place it in
the empyreal, or beyond the tenth sphere, is to forget
the world’s destruction; for when this sensible world
shall be destroyed, all shall then be here as it is now
there, an empyreal heaven, a <i>quasi</i> vacuity; when to
ask where heaven is, is to demand where the presence of
God is, or where we have the glory of that happy
vision. Moses, that was bred up in all the learning of
the Egyptians, committed a gross absurdity in philosophy,
when with these eyes of flesh he desired to see God,
and petitioned his Maker, that is truth itself, to a contradiction.
Those that imagine heaven and hell neighbours,
and conceive a vicinity between those two extremes,
upon consequence of the parable, where Dives discoursed
with Lazarus, in Abraham’s bosom, do too grossly conceive
of those glorified creatures, whose eyes shall easily
out-see the sun, and behold without perspective the
extremest distances: for if there shall be, in our glorified
eyes, the faculty of sight and reception of objects,
I could think the visible species there to be in as unlimitable
a way as now the intellectual. I grant that
two bodies placed beyond the tenth sphere, or in a
vacuity, according to Aristotle’s philosophy, could not
behold each other, because there wants a body or
medium to hand and transport the visible rays of the
object unto the sense; but when there shall be a general
defect of either medium to convey, or light to prepare
and dispose that medium, and yet a perfect vision, we
must suspend the rules of our philosophy, and make all
good by a more absolute piece of opticks.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 50.&mdash;I cannot tell how to say that fire is the
essence of hell; I know not what to make of purgatory,
or conceive a flame that can either prey upon, or purify
the substance of a soul. Those flames of sulphur, mentioned
in the scriptures, I take not to be understood of
this present hell, but of that to come, where fire shall
make up the complement of our tortures, and have a
body or subject whereon to manifest its tyranny. Some
who have had the honour to be textuary in divinity are
of opinion it shall be the same specifical fire with ours.
This is hard to conceive, yet can I make good how even
that may prey upon our bodies, and yet not consume
us: for in this material world, there are bodies that
persist invincible in the powerfulest flames; and though,
by the action of fire, they fall into ignition and liquation,
yet will they never suffer a destruction. I would gladly
know how Moses, with an actual fire, calcined or burnt
the golden calf into powder: for that mystical metal of
gold, whose solary and celestial nature I admire, exposed
unto the violence of fire, grows only hot, and
liquefies, but consumeth not; so when the consumable
and volatile pieces of our bodies shall be refined into a
more impregnable and fixed temper, like gold, though
they suffer from the action of flames, they shall never
perish, but lie immortal in the arms of fire. And
surely, if this flame must suffer only by the action of
this element, there will many bodies escape; and not
only heaven, but earth will not be at an end, but
rather a beginning. For at present it is not earth, but
a composition of fire, water, earth, and air; but at that
time, spoiled of these ingredients, it shall appear in a
substance more like itself, its ashes. Philosophers that
opinioned the world’s destruction by fire, did never
dream of annihilation, which is beyond the power of
sublunary causes; for the last and proper action of that
element is but vitrification, or a reduction of a body into
glass; and therefore some of our chymicks facetiously
affirm, that, at the last fire, all shall be crystalized and
reverberated into glass, which is the utmost action of
that element. Nor need we fear this term, annihilation,
or wonder that God will destroy the works of his creation:
for man subsisting, who is, and will then truly
appear, a microcosm, the world cannot be said to be
destroyed. For the eyes of God, and perhaps also of
our glorified selves, shall as really behold and contemplate
the world, in its epitome or contracted essence, as
now it doth at large and in its dilated substance. In
the seed of a plant, to the eyes of God, and to the understanding
of man, there exists, though in an invisible
way, the perfect leaves, flowers, and fruit thereof; for
things that are in <i>posse</i> to the sense, are actually existent
to the understanding. Thus God beholds all things,
who contemplates as fully his works in their epitome
as in their full volume, and beheld as amply the whole
world, in that little compendium of the sixth day, as
in the scattered and dilated pieces of those five before.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 51.&mdash;Men commonly set forth the torments of hell
by fire, and the extremity of corporal afflictions, and
describe hell in the same method that Mahomet doth
heaven. This indeed makes a noise, and drums in
popular ears: but if this be the terrible piece thereof, it
is not worthy to stand in diameter with heaven, whose
happiness consists in that part that is best able to comprehend
it, that immortal essence, that translated divinity
and colony of God, the soul. Surely, though we place
hell under earth, the devil’s walk and purlieu is about
it. Men speak too popularly who place it in those
flaming mountains, which to grosser apprehensions represent
hell. The heart of man is the place the devils
dwell in; I feel sometimes a hell within myself;
Lucifer keeps his court in my breast; Legion is revived
in me. There are as many hells as Anaxagoras<a name="FNanchor_68" id="FNanchor_68"></a><a href="#Footnote_68" class="fnanchor">[68]</a>
conceited worlds. There was more than one hell
in Magdalene, when there were seven devils; for every
devil is an hell unto himself,<a name="FNanchor_69" id="FNanchor_69"></a><a href="#Footnote_69" class="fnanchor">[69]</a> he holds enough of
torture in his own <i>ubi</i>; and needs not the misery of circumference
to afflict him: and thus, a distracted conscience
here is a shadow or introduction unto hell hereafter.
Who can but pity the merciful intention of those
hands that do destroy themselves? The devil, were it
in his power, would do the like; which being impossible,
his miseries are endless, and he suffers most
in that attribute wherein he is impassible, his immortality.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 52.&mdash;I thank God, and with joy I mention it, I
was never afraid of hell, nor ever grew pale at the
description of that place. I have so fixed my contemplations
on heaven, that I have almost forgot the idea of
hell; and am afraid rather to lose the joys of the one,
than endure the misery of the other: to be deprived of
them is a perfect hell, and needs methinks no addition
to complete our afflictions. That terrible term hath
never detained me from sin, nor do I owe any good
action to the name thereof. I fear God, yet am not
afraid of him; his mercies make me ashamed of my
sins, before his judgments afraid thereof: these are the
forced and secondary method of his wisdom, which he
useth but as the last remedy, and upon provocation;&mdash;a
course rather to deter the wicked, than incite the
virtuous to his worship. I can hardly think there was
ever any scared into heaven: they go the fairest way to
heaven that would serve God without a hell: other
mercenaries, that crouch unto him in fear of hell, though
they term themselves the servants, are indeed but the
slaves, of the Almighty.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 53.&mdash;And to be true, and speak my soul, when I
survey the occurrences of my life, and call into account
the finger of God, I can perceive nothing but an abyss
and mass of mercies, either in general to mankind, or in
particular to myself. And, whether out of the prejudice
of my affection, or an inverting and partial conceit of
his mercies, I know not,&mdash;but those which others term
crosses, afflictions, judgments, misfortunes, to me, who
inquire further into them than their visible effects, they
both appear, and in event have ever proved, the secret
and dissembled favours of his affection. It is a singular
piece of wisdom to apprehend truly, and without passion,
the works of God, and so well to distinguish his justice
from his mercy as not to miscall those noble attributes;
yet it is likewise an honest piece of logick so to dispute
and argue the proceedings of God as to distinguish even
his judgments into mercies. For God is merciful unto
all, because better to the worst than the best deserve;
and to say he punisheth none in this world, though it
be a paradox, is no absurdity. To one that hath committed
murder, if the judge should only ordain a fine,
it were a madness to call this a punishment, and to repine
at the sentence, rather than admire the clemency
of the judge. Thus, our offences being mortal, and
deserving not only death but damnation, if the goodness
of God be content to traverse and pass them over with
a loss, misfortune, or disease; what frenzy were it to
term this a punishment, rather than an extremity of
mercy, and to groan under the rod of his judgments
rather than admire the sceptre of his mercies! Therefore
to adore, honour, and admire him, is a debt of
gratitude due from the obligation of our nature, states,
and conditions: and with these thoughts he that knows
them best will not deny that I adore him. That I
obtain heaven, and the bliss thereof, is accidental, and
not the intended work of my devotion; it being a
felicity I can neither think to deserve nor scarce in
modesty to expect. For these two ends of us all, either
as rewards or punishments, are mercifully ordained and
disproportionably disposed unto our actions; the one
being so far beyond our deserts, the other so infinitely
below our demerits.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 54.&mdash;There is no salvation to those that believe
not in Christ; that is, say some, since his nativity, and,
as divinity affirmeth, before also; which makes me
much apprehend the end of those honest worthies and
philosophers which died before his incarnation. It is
hard to place those souls in hell, whose worthy lives do
teach us virtue on earth. Methinks, among those many
subdivisions of hell, there might have been one limbo
left for these. What a strange vision will it be to see
their poetical fictions converted into verities, and their
imagined and fancied furies into real devils! How
strange to them will sound the history of Adam, when
they shall suffer for him they never heard of! When
they who derive their genealogy from the gods, shall
know they are the unhappy issue of sinful man! It is
an insolent part of reason, to controvert the works of
God, or question the justice of his proceedings. Could
humility teach others, as it hath instructed me, to contemplate
the infinite and incomprehensible distance betwixt
the Creator and the creature; or did we seriously
perpend that one simile of St Paul, “shall the vessel say
to the potter, why hast thou made me thus?” it would
prevent these arrogant disputes of reason: nor would
we argue the definitive sentence of God, either to heaven
or hell. Men that live according to the right rule and
law of reason, live but in their own kind, as beasts do
in theirs; who justly obey the prescript of their natures,
and therefore cannot reasonably demand a reward of
their actions, as only obeying the natural dictates of
their reason. It will, therefore, and must, at last
appear, that all salvation is through Christ; which
verity, I fear, these great examples of virtue must confirm,
and make it good how the perfectest actions of
earth have no title or claim unto heaven.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 55.&mdash;Nor truly do I think the lives of these, or
of any other, were ever correspondent, or in all points
conformable, unto their doctrines. It is evident that
Aristotle transgressed the rule of his own ethicks;<a name="FNanchor_70" id="FNanchor_70"></a><a href="#Footnote_70" class="fnanchor">[70]</a>
the stoicks, that condemn passion, and command a man
to laugh in Phalaris’s<a name="FNanchor_71" id="FNanchor_71"></a><a href="#Footnote_71" class="fnanchor">[71]</a> bull, could not endure without a
groan a fit of the stone or colick. The scepticks, that
affirmed they knew nothing,<a name="FNanchor_72" id="FNanchor_72"></a><a href="#Footnote_72" class="fnanchor">[72]</a> even in that opinion confute
themselves, and thought they knew more than all
the world beside. Diogenes I hold to be the most vainglorious
man of his time, and more ambitious in refusing
all honours, than Alexander in rejecting none. Vice
and the devil put a fallacy upon our reasons; and,
provoking us too hastily to run from it, entangle and
profound us deeper in it. The duke of Venice, that
weds himself unto the sea, by a ring of gold,<a name="FNanchor_73" id="FNanchor_73"></a><a href="#Footnote_73" class="fnanchor">[73]</a> I will
not accuse of prodigality, because it is a solemnity of
good use and consequence in the state: but the philosopher,
that threw his money into the sea to avoid avarice,
was a notorious prodigal.<a name="FNanchor_74" id="FNanchor_74"></a><a href="#Footnote_74" class="fnanchor">[74]</a> There is no road or ready
way to virtue; it is not an easy point of art to disentangle
ourselves from this riddle or web of sin. To
perfect virtue, as to religion, there is required a <i>panoplia</i>,
or complete armour; that whilst we lie at close ward
against one vice, we lie not open to the veney<a name="FNanchor_75" id="FNanchor_75"></a><a href="#Footnote_75" class="fnanchor">[75]</a> of
another. And indeed wiser discretions, that have the
thread of reason to conduct them, offend without a
pardon; whereas under heads may stumble without
dishonour. There go so many circumstances to piece
up one good action, that it is a lesson to be good, and
we are forced to be virtuous by the book. Again, the
practice of men holds not an equal pace, yea and often
runs counter to their theory; we naturally know what
is good, but naturally pursue what is evil: the rhetorick
wherewith I persuade another cannot persuade myself.
There is a depraved appetite in us, that will with
patience hear the learned instructions of reason, but
yet perform no further than agrees to its own irregular
humour. In brief, we all are monsters; that is, a composition
of man and beast: wherein we must endeavour
to be as the poets fancy that wise man, Chiron; that is,
to have the region of man above that of beast, and sense
to sit but at the feet of reason. Lastly, I do desire with
God that all, but yet affirm with men that few, shall
know salvation,&mdash;that the bridge is narrow, the passage
strait unto life: yet those who do confine the church
of God either to particular nations, churches, or
families, have made it far narrower than our Saviour
ever meant it.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 56.&mdash;The vulgarity of those judgments that wrap
the church of God in Strabo’s cloak,<a name="FNanchor_76" id="FNanchor_76"></a><a href="#Footnote_76" class="fnanchor">[76]</a> and restrain it
unto Europe, seem to me as bad geographers as Alexander,
who thought he had conquered all the world,
when he had not subdued the half of any part thereof.
For we cannot deny the church of God both in Asia
and Africa, if we do not forget the peregrinations of
the apostles, the deaths of the martyrs, the sessions of
many and (even in our reformed judgment) lawful
councils, held in those parts in the minority and
nonage of ours. Nor must a few differences, more remarkable
in the eyes of man than, perhaps, in the
judgment of God, excommunicate from heaven one another;
much less those Christians who are in a manner
all martyrs, maintaining their faith in the noble way
of persecution, and serving God in the fire, whereas
we honour him in the sunshine.</p>

<p>’Tis true, we all hold there is a number of elect, and
many to be saved; yet, take our opinions together, and
from the confusion thereof, there will be no such thing
as salvation, nor shall any one be saved: for, first, the
church of Rome condemneth us; we likewise them;
the sub-reformists and sectaries sentence the doctrine of
our church as damnable; the atomist, or familist,<a name="FNanchor_77" id="FNanchor_77"></a><a href="#Footnote_77" class="fnanchor">[77]</a> reprobates
all these; and all these, them again. Thus,
whilst the mercies of God do promise us heaven, our
conceits and opinions exclude us from that place. There
must be therefore more than one St Peter; particular
churches and sects usurp the gates of heaven, and turn
the key against each other; and thus we go to heaven
against each other’s wills, conceits, and opinions, and,
with as much uncharity as ignorance, do err, I fear, in
points not only of our own, but one another’s salvation.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 57.&mdash;I believe many are saved who to man
seem reprobated, and many are reprobated who in the
opinion and sentence of man stand elected. There will
appear, at the last day, strange and unexpected examples,
both of his justice and his mercy; and, therefore, to
define either is folly in man, and insolency even in the
devils. These acute and subtile spirits, in all their
sagacity, can hardly divine who shall be saved; which
if they could prognostick, their labour were at an end,
nor need they compass the earth, seeking whom they
may devour. Those who, upon a rigid application of
the law, sentence Solomon unto damnation,<a name="FNanchor_78" id="FNanchor_78"></a><a href="#Footnote_78" class="fnanchor">[78]</a> condemn
not only him, but themselves, and the whole world;
for by the letter and written word of God, we are without
exception in the state of death: but there is a prerogative
of God, and an arbitrary pleasure above the
letter of his own law, by which alone we can pretend
unto salvation, and through which Solomon might be as
easily saved as those who condemn him.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 58.&mdash;The number of those who pretend unto
salvation, and those infinite swarms who think to pass
through the eye of this needle, have much amazed me.
That name and compellation of “little flock” doth not
comfort, but deject, my devotion; especially when I
reflect upon mine own unworthiness, wherein, according
to my humble apprehensions, I am below them all.
I believe there shall never be an anarchy in heaven;
but, as there are hierarchies amongst the angels, so shall
there be degrees of priority amongst the saints. Yet is
it, I protest, beyond my ambition to aspire unto the
first ranks; my desires only are, and I shall be happy
therein, to be but the last man, and bring up the rear
in heaven.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 59.&mdash;Again, I am confident, and fully persuaded,
yet dare not take my oath, of my salvation. I am, as it
were, sure, and do believe without all doubt, that there
is such a city as Constantinople; yet, for me to take
my oath thereon were a kind of perjury, because I hold
no infallible warrant from my own sense to confirm
me in the certainty thereof. And truly, though many
pretend to an absolute certainty of their salvation, yet
when an humble soul shall contemplate our own unworthiness,
she shall meet with many doubts, and suddenly
find how little we stand in need of the precept of
St Paul, “work out your salvation <i>with fear and trembling</i>.”
That which is the cause of my election, I hold to
be the cause of my salvation, which was the mercy and
<i>beneplacit</i> of God, before I was, or the foundation of the
world. “Before Abraham was, I am,” is the saying of
Christ, yet is it true in some sense if I say it of myself;
for I was not only before myself but Adam, that is, in
the idea of God, and the decree of that synod held from
all eternity. And in this sense, I say, the world was
before the creation, and at an end before it had a
beginning. And thus was I dead before I was alive;
though my grave be England, my dying place was
Paradise; and Eve miscarried of me, before she conceived
of Cain.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 60.&mdash;Insolent zeals, that do decry good works
and rely only upon faith, take not away merit: for,
depending upon the efficacy of their faith, they enforce
the condition of God, and in a more sophistical way do
seem to challenge heaven. It was decreed by God that
only those that lapped in the water like dogs, should
have the honour to destroy the Midianites; yet could
none of those justly challenge, or imagine he deserved,
that honour thereupon. I do not deny but that true
faith, and such as God requires, is not only a mark or
token, but also a means, of our salvation; but, where
to find this, is as obscure to me as my last end. And
if our Saviour could object, unto his own disciples and
favourites, a faith that, to the quantity of a grain of
mustard seed, is able to remove mountains; surely that
which we boast of is not anything, or, at the most, but
a remove from nothing.</p>

<p>This is the tenour of my belief; wherein, though
there be many things singular, and to the humour of
my irregular self, yet, if they square not with maturer
judgments, I disclaim them, and do no further favour them
than the learned and best judgments shall authorize them.</p>


<div class="chapter">

<h3 class="nobreak"><a name="PART_THE_SECOND" id="PART_THE_SECOND">PART THE SECOND.</a></h3>

</div>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 1.&mdash;Now, for that other virtue of charity, without
which faith is a mere notion and of no existence, I have
ever endeavoured to nourish the merciful disposition
and humane inclination I borrowed 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,&mdash;for I am of a constitution so general that it
consorts and sympathizeth with all things; I have no
antipathy, or rather idiosyncrasy, in diet, humour, air,
anything. I wonder not at the French for their dishes
of frogs, snails, and toadstools, nor at the Jews for locusts
and grasshoppers; but, being amongst them, make
them my common viands; and I find they agree with
my stomach as well as theirs. I could digest a salad
gathered in a church-yard as well as in a garden. I
cannot start at the presence of a serpent, scorpion, lizard,
or salamander; 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 discover
in others: those national repugnances do not
touch me, nor do I behold with prejudice the French,
Italian, Spaniard, or Dutch; but, where I find their
actions in balance with my countrymen’s, I honour, love,
and embrace them, in the same degree. I was born in
the eighth climate, but seem 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 me one
country; I am in England everywhere, 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 averse from nothing: my conscience
would give me the lie if I should say I absolutely
detest or hate any essence, but the devil; or so
at least abhor anything, but that we might come to
composition. 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 multitude;
that numerous piece of monstrosity, which,
taken asunder, seem men, and the reasonable creatures
of God, but, confused together, make but one great
beast, and a monstrosity more prodigious than Hydra.
It is no breach of charity to call these fools; it is the
style all holy writers have afforded them, set down by
Solomon in canonical Scripture, 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 mechanicks, 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 Doradoes<a name="FNanchor_79" id="FNanchor_79"></a><a href="#Footnote_79" class="fnanchor">[79]</a> of that true
esteem and value as many a forlorn person, whose condition
doth place him 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;&mdash;ruder desires labouring after that
which wiser considerations contemn;&mdash;every one having
a liberty to amass and heap up riches, and they a licence
or faculty to do or purchase anything.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 2.&mdash;This general and indifferent temper of mine
doth more nearly dispose me to this noble virtue. It is
a happiness to be born and framed unto virtue, and to
grow up from the seeds of nature, rather than the
inoculations and forced grafts of education: yet, if we
are directed only by our particular natures, and regulate
our inclinations by no higher rule than that of our
reasons, we are but moralists; divinity will still call us
heathens. Therefore this great work of charity must
have other motives, ends, and impulsions. I give no
alms to satisfy the hunger of my brother, but to fulfil
and accomplish the will and command of my God; I
draw not my purse for his sake that demands it, but his
that enjoined it; I relieve no man upon the rhetorick
of his miseries, nor to content mine own commiserating
disposition; for this is still but moral charity, and an
act that oweth more to passion than reason. He that
relieves another upon the bare suggestion and bowels of
pity doth not this so much for his sake as for his own;
and so, by relieving them, we relieve ourselves also.
It is as erroneous a conceit to redress other men’s
misfortunes upon the common considerations of merciful
natures, that it may be one day our own case; for this
is a sinister and politick kind of charity, whereby we
seem to bespeak the pities of men in the like occasions.
And truly I have observed that those professed eleemosynaries,
though in a crowd or multitude, do yet direct
and place their petitions on a few and selected persons;
there is surely a physiognomy, which those experienced
and master mendicants observe, whereby they instantly
discover a merciful aspect, and will single out a face,
wherein they spy the signature and marks of mercy.
For there are mystically in our faces certain characters
which carry in them the motto of our souls, wherein he
that can read A, B, C, may read our natures. I hold,
moreover, that there is a phytognomy, or physiognomy,
not only of men, but of plants and vegetables; and is
every one of them some outward figures which hang as
signs or bushes of their inward forms. The finger of
God hath left an inscription upon all his works, not
graphical, or composed of letters, but of their several
forms, constitutions, parts, and operations, which, aptly
joined together, do make one word that doth express
their natures. By these letters God calls the stars by
their names; and by this alphabet Adam assigned to
every creature a name peculiar to its nature. Now,
there are, besides these characters in our faces, certain
mystical figures in our hands, which I dare not call
mere dashes, strokes <i>à la volee</i> or at random, because
delineated by a pencil that never works in vain; and
hereof I take more particular notice, because I carry
that in mine own hand which I could never read of nor
discover in another. Aristotle, I confess, in his acute
and singular book of physiognomy, hath made no
mention of chiromancy:<a name="FNanchor_80" id="FNanchor_80"></a><a href="#Footnote_80" class="fnanchor">[80]</a> yet I believe the Egyptians,
who were nearer addicted to those abstruse and mystical
sciences, had a knowledge therein: to which those
vagabond and counterfeit Egyptians did after<a name="FNanchor_81" id="FNanchor_81"></a><a href="#Footnote_81" class="fnanchor">[81]</a> pretend,
and perhaps retained a few corrupted principles, which
sometimes might verify their prognosticks.</p>

<p>It is the common wonder of all men, how, among so
many millions of faces, there should be none alike:
now, contrary, I wonder as much how there should be
any. He that shall consider how many thousand
several words have been carelessly and without study
composed out of twenty-four letters; withal, how many
hundred lines there are to be drawn in the fabrick of
one man; shall easily find that this variety is necessary:
and it will be very hard that they shall so concur as to
make one portrait like another. Let a painter carelessly
limn out a million of faces, and you shall find them all
different; yes, let him have his copy before him, yet,
after all his art, there will remain a sensible distinction:
for the pattern or example of everything is the perfectest
in that kind, whereof we still come short, though we
transcend or go beyond it; because herein it is wide,
and agrees not in all points unto its copy. Nor doth
the similitude of creatures disparage the variety of
nature, nor any way confound the works of God. For
even in things alike there is diversity; and those that
do seem to accord do manifestly disagree. And thus is
man like God; for, in the same things that we resemble
him we are utterly different from him. There was
never anything so like another as in all points to
concur; there will ever some reserved difference slip
in, to prevent the identity; without which two several
things would not be alike, but the same, which is
impossible.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 3.&mdash;But, to return from philosophy to charity, I
hold not so narrow a conceit of this virtue as to conceive
that to give alms is only to be charitable, or think
a piece of liberality can comprehend the total of charity.
Divinity hath wisely divided the act thereof into many
branches, and hath taught us, in this narrow way, many
paths unto goodness; as many ways as we may do good,
so many ways we may be charitable. There are infirmities
not only of body, but of soul and fortunes,
which do require the merciful hand of our abilities. I
cannot contemn a man for ignorance, but behold him
with as much pity as I do Lazarus. It is no greater
charity to clothe his body than apparel the nakedness
of his soul. It is an honourable object to see the
reasons of other men wear our liveries, and their
borrowed understandings do homage to the bounty of
ours. It is the cheapest way of beneficence, and, like
the natural charity of the sun, illuminates another
without obscuring itself. To be reserved and caitiff<a name="FNanchor_82" id="FNanchor_82"></a><a href="#Footnote_82" class="fnanchor">[82]</a>
in this part of goodness is the sordidest piece of covetousness,
and more contemptible than the pecuniary avarice.
To this (as calling myself a scholar) I am obliged by
the duty of my condition. I make not therefore my
head a grave, but a treasure of knowledge. I intend no
monopoly, but a community in learning. I study not
for my own sake only, but for theirs that study not for
themselves. I envy no man that knows more than
myself, but pity them that know less. I instruct no
man as an exercise of my knowledge, or with an intent
rather to nourish and keep it alive in mine own head
than beget and propagate it in his. And, in the midst
of all my endeavours, there is but one thought that
dejects me, that my acquired parts must perish with
myself, nor can be legacied among my honoured friends.
I cannot fall out or contemn a man for an error, or
conceive why a difference in opinion should divide an
affection; for controversies, disputes, and argumentations,
both in philosophy and in divinity, if they meet
with discreet and peaceable natures, do not infringe the
laws of charity. In all disputes, so much as there is of
passion, so much there is of nothing to the purpose; for
then reason, like a bad hound, spends upon a false scent,
and forsakes the question first started. And this is one
reason why controversies are never determined; for,
though they be amply proposed, they are scarce at all
handled; they do so swell with unnecessary digressions;
and the parenthesis on the party is often as large as the
main discourse upon the subject. The foundations of
religion are already established, and the principles of
salvation subscribed unto by all. There remain not
many controversies worthy a passion, and yet never any
dispute without, not only in divinity but inferior arts.
What a βατραχομυομαχία and hot skirmish is betwixt S.
and T. in Lucian!<a name="FNanchor_83" id="FNanchor_83"></a><a href="#Footnote_83" class="fnanchor">[83]</a> How do grammarians hack and
slash for the genitive case in Jupiter!<a name="FNanchor_84" id="FNanchor_84"></a><a href="#Footnote_84" class="fnanchor">[84]</a> How do they
break their own pates, to salve that of Priscian!<a name="FNanchor_85" id="FNanchor_85"></a><a href="#Footnote_85" class="fnanchor">[85]</a> “<i>Si
foret in terris, rideret Democritus.</i>” Yes, even amongst
wiser militants, how many wounds have been given and
credits slain, for the poor victory of an opinion, or
beggarly conquest of a distinction! Scholars are men
of peace, they bear no arms, but their tongues are
sharper than Actius’s razor;<a name="FNanchor_86" id="FNanchor_86"></a><a href="#Footnote_86" class="fnanchor">[86]</a> their pens carry farther,
and give a louder report than thunder. I had rather
stand the shock of a basilisko<a name="FNanchor_87" id="FNanchor_87"></a><a href="#Footnote_87" class="fnanchor">[87]</a> than in the fury of
a merciless pen. It is not mere zeal to learning, or
devotion to the muses, that wiser princes patron the
arts, and carry an indulgent aspect unto scholars; but
a desire to have their names eternized by the memory
of their writings, and a fear of the revengeful pen of
succeeding ages: for these are the men that, when they
have played their parts, and had their <i>exits</i>, must step
out and give the moral of their scenes, and deliver unto
posterity an inventory of their virtues and vices. And
surely there goes a great deal of conscience to the
compiling of an history: there is no reproach to the
scandal of a story; it is such an authentick kind of
falsehood, that with authority belies our good names to
all nations and posterity.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 4.&mdash;There is another offence unto charity, which
no author hath ever written of, and few take notice of,
and that’s the reproach, not of whole professions, mysteries,
and conditions, but of whole nations, wherein by
opprobrious epithets we miscall each other, and, by an
uncharitable logick, from a disposition in a few, conclude
a habit in all.</p>

<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza">
       <div class="verse">Le mutin Anglois, et le bravache Escossois</div>
       <div class="verse">Le bougre Italien, et le fol Francois;</div>
       <div class="verse">Le poltron Romain, le larron de Gascogne,</div>
       <div class="verse">L’Espagnol superbe, et l’Alleman yvrogne.</div>
</div></div></div>

<p>St Paul, that calls the Cretians liars, doth it but indirectly,
and upon quotation of their own poet.<a name="FNanchor_88" id="FNanchor_88"></a><a href="#Footnote_88" class="fnanchor">[88]</a> It is
as bloody a thought in one way as Nero’s was in
another.<a name="FNanchor_89" id="FNanchor_89"></a><a href="#Footnote_89" class="fnanchor">[89]</a> For by a word we wound a thousand, and
at one blow assassin the honour of a nation. It is as
complete a piece of madness to miscall and rave against
the times; or think to recall men to reason by a fit of
passion. Democritus, that thought to laugh the times
into goodness, seems to me as deeply hypochondriack
as Heraclitus, that bewailed them. It moves not my
spleen to behold the multitude in their proper humours;
that is, in their fits of folly and madness, as well understanding
that wisdom is not profaned unto the world;
and it is the privilege of a few to be virtuous. They
that endeavour to abolish vice destroy also virtue; for
contraries, though they destroy one another, are yet
the life of one another. Thus virtue (abolish vice) is
an idea. Again, the community of sin doth not disparage
goodness; for, when vice gains upon the major
part, virtue, in whom it remains, becomes more excellent,
and, being lost in some, multiplies its goodness in
others, which remain untouched, and persist entire in
the general inundation. I can therefore behold vice
without a satire, content only with an admonition, or
instructive reprehension; for noble natures, and such
as are capable of goodness, are railed into vice, that
might as easily be admonished into virtue; and we
should be all so far the orators of goodness as to protect
her from the power of vice, and maintain the cause of
injured truth. No man can justly censure or condemn
another; because, indeed, no man truly knows another.
This I perceive in myself; for I am in the dark to all
the world, and my nearest friends behold me but in a
cloud. Those that know me but superficially think
less of me than I do of myself; those of my near acquaintance
think more; God who truly knows me,
knows that I am nothing: for he only beholds me, and
all the world, who looks not on us through a derived
ray, or a trajection of a sensible species, but beholds the
substance without the help of accidents, and the forms
of things, as we their operations. Further, no man can
judge another, because no man knows himself; for we
censure others but as they disagree from that humour
which we fancy laudable in ourselves, and commend
others but for that wherein they seem to quadrate and
consent with us. So that in conclusion, all is but that
we all condemn, self-love. ’Tis the general complaint
of these times, and perhaps of those past, that charity
grows cold; which I perceive most verified in those
which do most manifest the fires and flames of zeal;
for it is a virtue that best agrees with coldest natures,
and such as are complexioned for humility. But how
shall we expect charity towards others, when we are
uncharitable to ourselves? “Charity begins at home,”
is the voice of the world; yet is every man his greatest
enemy, and as it were his own executioner. “<i>Non occides</i>,”
is the commandment of God, yet scarce observed by any
man; for I perceive every man is his own Atropos, and
lends a hand to cut the thread of his own days. Cain
was not therefore the first murderer, but Adam, who
brought in death; whereof he beheld the practice and
example in his own son Abel; and saw that verified in
the experience of another which faith could not persuade
him in the theory of himself.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 5.&mdash;There is, I think, no man that apprehends
his own miseries less than myself; and no man that so
nearly apprehends another’s. I could lose an arm
without a tear, and with few groans, methinks, be
quartered into pieces; yet can I weep most seriously
at a play, and receive with a true passion the counterfeit
griefs of those known and professed impostures. It
is a barbarous part of inhumanity to add unto any
afflicted parties misery, or endeavour to multiply in
any man a passion whose single nature is already above
his patience. This was the greatest affliction of Job,
and those oblique expostulations of his friends a deeper
injury than the down-right blows of the devil. It is
not the tears of our own eyes only, but of our friends
also, that do exhaust the current of our sorrows; which,
falling into many streams, runs more peaceably, and is
contented with a narrower channel. It is an act within
the power of charity, to translate a passion out of one
breast into another, and to divide a sorrow almost out
of itself; for an affliction, like a dimension, may be so
divided as, if not indivisible, at least to become insensible.
Now with my friend I desire not to share or
participate, but to engross, his sorrows; that, by making
them mine own, I may more easily discuss them:
for in mine own reason, and within myself, I can command
that which I cannot entreat without myself, and
within the circle of another. I have often thought
those noble pairs and examples of friendship, not so
truly histories of what had been, as fictions of what
should be; but I now perceive nothing in them but
possibilities, nor anything in the heroick examples of
Damon and Pythias, Achilles and Patroclus, which,
methinks, upon some grounds, I could not perform
within the narrow compass of myself. That a man
should lay down his life for his friend seems strange to
vulgar affections and such as confine themselves within
that worldly principle, “Charity begins at home.” For
mine own part, I could never remember the relations
that I held unto myself, nor the respect that I owe unto
my own nature, in the cause of God, my country, and
my friends. Next to these three, I do embrace myself.
I confess I do not observe that order that the schools
ordain our affections,&mdash;to love our parents, wives, children,
and then our friends; for, excepting the injunctions
of religion, I do not find in myself such a necessary
and indissoluble sympathy to all those of my blood.
I hope I do not break the fifth commandment, if I
conceive I may love my friend before the nearest of my
blood, even those to whom I owe the principles of life.
I never yet cast a true affection on a woman; but I
have loved my friend, as I do virtue, my soul, my God.
From hence, methinks, I do conceive how God loves
man; what happiness there is in the love of God.
Omitting all other, there are three most mystical
unions; two natures in one person; three persons in
one nature; one soul in two bodies. For though, indeed,
they be really divided, yet are they so united, as
they seem but one, and make rather a duality than two
distinct souls.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 6.&mdash;There are wonders in true affection. It is a
body of enigmas, mysteries, and riddles; wherein two
so become one as they both become two: I love my
friend before myself, and yet, methinks, I do not love
him enough. Some few months hence, my multiplied
affection will make me believe I have not loved him at
all. When I am from him, I am dead till I be with
him. United souls are not satisfied with embraces, but
desire to be truly each other; which being impossible,
these desires are infinite, and must proceed without a
possibility of satisfaction. Another misery there is in
affection; that whom we truly love like our own selves,
we forget their looks, nor can our memory retain the
idea of their faces: and it is no wonder, for they are
ourselves, and our affection makes their looks our own.
This noble affection falls not on vulgar and common
constitutions; but on such as are marked for virtue.
He that can love his friend with this noble ardour will
in a competent degree effect all. Now, if we can bring
our affections to look beyond the body, and cast an eye
upon the soul, we have found out the true object, not
only of friendship, but charity: and the greatest happiness
that we can bequeath the soul is that wherein we
all do place our last felicity, salvation; which, though
it be not in our power to bestow, it is in our charity and
pious invocations to desire, if not procure and further.
I cannot contentedly frame a prayer for myself in particular,
without a catalogue for my friends; nor request
a happiness wherein my sociable disposition doth not
desire the fellowship of my neighbour. I never hear
the toll of a passing bell, though in my mirth, without
my prayers and best wishes for the departing spirit.
I cannot go to cure the body of my patient, but I forget
my profession, and call unto God for his soul. I cannot
see one say his prayers, but, instead of imitating
him, I fall into supplication for him, who perhaps is no
more to me than a common nature: and if God hath
vouchsafed an ear to my supplications, there are surely
many happy that never saw me, and enjoy the blessing
of mine unknown devotions. To pray for enemies, that
is, for their salvation, is no harsh precept, but the practice
of our daily and ordinary devotions. I cannot believe
the story of the Italian;<a name="FNanchor_90" id="FNanchor_90"></a><a href="#Footnote_90" class="fnanchor">[90]</a> our bad wishes and uncharitable
desires proceed no further than this life; it is the
devil, and the uncharitable votes of hell, that desire our
misery in the world to come.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 7.&mdash;“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
things 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 fabrick 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
domestick enemies within, public and more hostile adversaries
without. The devil, that did but buffet St
Paul, plays methinks at sharp<a name="FNanchor_91" id="FNanchor_91"></a><a href="#Footnote_91" class="fnanchor">[91]</a> with me. Let me be
nothing, if within the compass of myself, I do not find
the battle of Lepanto,<a name="FNanchor_92" id="FNanchor_92"></a><a href="#Footnote_92" class="fnanchor">[92]</a> passion against reason, reason
against faith, faith against the devil, and my conscience
against all. There is another man within me that’s
angry with me, rebukes, commands, and dastards me.
I have no conscience of marble, to resist the hammer of
more heavy offences: nor yet so soft and waxen, as to
take the impression of each single peccadillo or scape of
infirmity. I am of 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 to be washed away in my
baptism; for my actual transgressions, I compute and
reckon with God but from my last repentance, sacrament,
or general absolution; and therefore am not
terrified with the sins or madness of my youth. I thank
the goodness of God, I have no sins that want a name.
I am not singular in offences; my transgressions are
epidemical, and from the common breath of our corruption.
For there are certain tempers of body which,
matched with a humorous depravity of mind, do hatch
and produce vitiosities, whose newness and monstrosity
of nature admits no name; this was the temper of that
lecher that carnaled with a statua, and the constitution
of Nero in his spintrian recreations. For the heavens
are not only fruitful in new and unheard-of stars, the
earth in plants and animals, but men’s minds also in
villany and vices. Now the dulness of my reason, and
the vulgarity of my disposition, never prompted my invention
nor solicited my affection unto any of these;&mdash;yet
even those common and quotidian infirmities that
so necessarily attend me, and do seem to be my very
nature, have so dejected me, so broken the estimation
that I should have otherwise of myself, that I repute
myself the most abject piece of mortality. Divines prescribe
a fit of sorrow to repentance: there goes indignation,
anger, sorrow, hatred, into mine, passions of a contrary
nature, which neither seem to suit with this action,
nor my proper constitution. It is no breach of charity
to ourselves to be at variance with our vices, nor to
abhor that part of us, which is an enemy to the ground
of charity, our God; wherein we do but imitate our
great 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.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 8.&mdash;I thank God, amongst those millions of vices
I do inherit and hold from Adam, I have escaped one,
and that a mortal enemy to charity,&mdash;the first and
father sin, not only of man, but of the devil,&mdash;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 <i>patois</i> 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 critick. 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 fishermen,
or that Aristotle, who understood the uncertainty
of knowledge, and confessed so often the reason of man
too weak for the works of nature, did ever drown himself
upon the flux and reflux of Euripus.<a name="FNanchor_93" id="FNanchor_93"></a><a href="#Footnote_93" class="fnanchor">[93]</a> We do but
learn, to-day, what our better advanced judgments will
unteach to-morrow; and Aristotle doth but 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 endeavours may style us
Peripateticks, Stoicks, or Academicks, yet I perceive
the wisest heads prove, at last, almost all Scepticks,<a name="FNanchor_94" id="FNanchor_94"></a><a href="#Footnote_94" class="fnanchor">[94]</a>
and stand like Janus in the field of knowledge. I have
therefore one common and authentick philosophy I
learned in the schools, whereby I discourse and satisfy
the reason of other men; another more reserved, and
drawn from experience, whereby I content mine own.
Solomon, that complained of ignorance in the height of
knowledge, hath not only humbled my conceits, but
discouraged my endeavours. There is yet another conceit
that hath sometimes 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 attending a little longer,
and we shall enjoy that, by instinct and infusion, which
we endeavour at here by labour and inquisition. It is
better to sit down in a modest ignorance, and rest contented
with the natural blessing of our own reasons,
than by the uncertain knowledge of this life with sweat
and vexation, which death gives every fool gratis, and is
an accessary of our glorification.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 9.&mdash;I was never yet once, and commend their
resolutions who never marry twice. 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 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 could be content that we might procreate like
trees, without conjunction, or that there were any way
to perpetuate the world without this trivial and vulgar
way of coition: it is the foolishest act a wise man commits
in all his life, nor is there anything that will more
deject his cooled imagination, when he shall consider
what an odd and unworthy piece of folly he hath committed.
I speak not in prejudice, nor am averse from
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 an horse. It is
my temper, and I like it the better, to affect all harmony;
and sure there is musick, even in the beauty and the
silent note which Cupid strikes, far sweeter than the
sound of an instrument. For there is a musick wherever
there is a harmony, order, or proportion; and thus
far we may maintain “the musick 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. Whatsoever
is harmonically composed delights in harmony,
which makes me much distrust the symmetry of those
heads which declaim against all church-musick. For
myself, not only from my obedience but my particular
genius I do embrace it: for even that vulgar and tavern-musick
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
an hieroglyphical and shadowed lesson of the whole
world, and creatures of God,&mdash;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 an harmony, but
harmonical, and hath its nearest sympathy unto musick:
thus some, whose temper of body agrees, and humours
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;<a name="FNanchor_XVI._16" id="FNanchor_XVI._16"></a><a href="#Footnote_XVI._16" class="fnanchor">[XVI.]</a> and Cicero, the worst of poets, but declaiming
for a poet, falls in the very first sentence upon a
perfect hexameter.<a name="FNanchor_XVII._17" id="FNanchor_XVII._17"></a><a href="#Footnote_XVII._17" class="fnanchor">[XVII.]</a> I feel not in me those sordid and
unchristian desires of my profession; I do not secretly
implore and wish for plagues, rejoice at famines, revolve
ephemerides and almanacks in expectation of malignant
aspects, fatal conjunctions, and eclipses. I rejoice not
at unwholesome springs nor unseasonable winters: my
prayer goes with the husbandman’s; I desire everything
in its proper season, that neither men nor the times be
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
honest gain, though I confess ’tis but the worthy salary
of our well intended endeavours. I am not only
ashamed but heartily sorry, that, besides death, there
are diseases incurable; yet not for my own sake or that
they be beyond my art, but for the general cause and
sake of humanity, whose common cause I apprehend as
mine own. And, to speak more generally, those three
noble professions which all civil commonwealths do
honour, are raised upon the fall of Adam, and are not
any way exempt from their infirmities. There are not
only diseases incurable in physick, but cases indissolvable
in law, vices incorrigible in divinity. If general
councils may err, I do not see why particular courts
should be infallible: their perfectest rules are raised
upon the erroneous reasons of man, and the laws of one
do but condemn the rules of another; as Aristotle ofttimes
the opinions of his predecessors, because, though
agreeable to reason, yet were not consonant to his own
rules and the logick of his proper principles. Again,&mdash;to
speak nothing of the sin against the Holy Ghost,
whose cure not only, but whose nature is unknown,&mdash;I
can cure the gout or stone in some, sooner than divinity,
pride, or avarice in others. I can cure vices by physick
when they remain incurable by divinity, and they shall
obey my pills when they contemn their precepts. I
boast nothing, but plainly say, we all labour against our
own cure; for death is the cure of all diseases. There
is no <i>catholicon</i> or universal remedy I know, but this,
which though nauseous to queasy stomachs, yet to prepared
appetites is nectar, and a pleasant potion of immortality.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 10.&mdash;For my conversation, it is, like the sun’s,
with all men, and with a friendly aspect to good and
bad. Methinks there is no man bad; and the worst
best, that is, while they are kept within the circle of
those qualities wherein they are good. There is no
man’s mind of so discordant and jarring a temper, to
which a tuneable disposition may not strike a harmony.
<i>Magnæ virtutes, nec minora vitia;</i> it is the posy<a name="FNanchor_95" id="FNanchor_95"></a><a href="#Footnote_95" class="fnanchor">[95]</a> of
the best natures, and may be inverted on the worst.
There are, in the most depraved and venomous dispositions,
certain pieces that remain untouched, which by
an <i>antiperistasis</i><a name="FNanchor_96" id="FNanchor_96"></a><a href="#Footnote_96" class="fnanchor">[96]</a> become more excellent, or by the
excellency of their antipathies are able to preserve themselves
from the contagion of their enemy vices, and
persist entire beyond the general corruption. For it is
also thus in nature: the greatest balsams do lie enveloped
in the bodies of the most powerful corrosives.
I say moreover, and I ground upon experience, that
poisons contain within themselves their own antidote,
and that which preserves them from the venom of themselves;
without which they were not deleterious to
others only, but to themselves also. But it is the corruption
that I fear within me; not the contagion of
commerce without me. ’Tis that unruly regiment
within me, that will destroy me; ’tis that I do infect
myself; the man without a navel<a name="FNanchor_97" id="FNanchor_97"></a><a href="#Footnote_97" class="fnanchor">[97]</a> yet lives in me.
I feel that original canker corrode and devour me: and
therefore, “<i>Defenda me, Dios, de me!</i>” “Lord, deliver me
from myself!” is a part of my litany, and the first voice
of my retired imaginations. There is no man alone,
because every man is a microcosm, and carries the whole
world about him. “<i>Nunquam minus solus quam cum
solus,</i>”<a name="FNanchor_XVIII._18" id="FNanchor_XVIII._18"></a><a href="#Footnote_XVIII._18" class="fnanchor">[XVIII.]</a> though it be the apothegm of a wise man is yet
true in the mouth of a fool: for indeed, though in a
wilderness, a man is never alone; not only because he
is with himself, and his own thoughts, but because he
is with the devil, who ever consorts with our solitude,
and is that unruly rebel that musters up those disordered
motions which accompany our sequestered imaginations.
And to speak more narrowly, there is no such thing as
solitude, nor anything that can be said to be alone, and
by itself, but God;&mdash;who is his own circle, and can subsist
by himself; all others, besides their dissimilary and
heterogeneous parts, which in a manner multiply their
natures, cannot subsist without the concourse of God,
and the society of that hand which doth uphold their
natures. In brief, there can be nothing truly alone,
and by its self, which is not truly one, and such is only
God: all others do transcend an unity, and so by consequence
are many.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 11.&mdash;Now for my life, it is a miracle of thirty
years, which to relate, were not a history, but a piece of
poetry, and would sound to common ears like a fable.
For the world, I count it not an inn, but an hospital;
and a place not to live, but to die in. The world that I
regard is myself; it is the microcosm of my own frame
that I cast mine eye on: for the other, I use it but like
my globe, and turn it round sometimes for my recreation.
Men that look upon my outside, perusing only
my condition and fortunes, do err in my altitude; for I
am above Atlas’s shoulders.<a name="FNanchor_98" id="FNanchor_98"></a><a href="#Footnote_98" class="fnanchor">[98]</a> The earth is a point not
only in respect of the heavens above us, but of the
heavenly and celestial part within us. That mass of
flesh that circumscribes me limits not my mind. That
surface that tells the heavens it hath an end cannot
persuade me I have any. I take my circle to be above
three hundred and sixty. Though the number of the
ark do measure my body, it comprehendeth not my
mind. Whilst I study to find how I am a microcosm,
or little world, I find myself something more than the
great. There is surely a piece of divinity in us; something
that was before the elements, and owes no homage
unto the sun. Nature tells me, I am the image of God,
as well as Scripture. He that understands not thus
much hath not his introduction or first lesson, and is
yet to begin the alphabet of man. Let me not injure the
felicity of others, if I say I am as happy as any. “<i>Ruat
cœlum, fiat voluntas tua,</i>” salveth all; so that, whatsoever
happens, it is but what our daily prayers desire.
In brief, I am content; and what should providence
add more? Surely this is it we call happiness, and this
do I enjoy; with this I am happy in a dream, and as
content to enjoy a happiness in a fancy, as others in a
more apparent truth and reality. There is surely a
nearer apprehension of anything that delights us, in our
dreams, than in our waked senses. Without this I were
unhappy; for my awaked judgment discontents me,
ever whispering unto me that I am from my friend, but
my friendly dreams in the night requite me, and make
me think I am within his arms. I thank God for my
happy dreams, as I do for my good rest; for there is a
satisfaction in them unto reasonable desires, and such
as can be content with a fit of happiness. And surely
it is not a melancholy conceit to think we are all asleep
in this world, and that the conceits of this life are as
mere dreams, to those of the next, as the phantasms of
the night, to the conceits of the day. There is an equal
delusion in both; and the one doth but seem to be the
emblem or picture of the other. We are somewhat
more than ourselves in our sleeps; and the slumber of
the body seems to be but the waking of the soul. It is
the ligation of sense, but the liberty of reason; and our
waking conceptions do not match the fancies of our
sleeps. At my nativity, my ascendant was the watery
sign of <i>Scorpio</i>. I was born in the planetary hour of
<i>Saturn</i>, and I think I have a piece of that leaden planet
in me. I am no way facetious, nor disposed for the
mirth and galliardise<a name="FNanchor_99" id="FNanchor_99"></a><a href="#Footnote_99" class="fnanchor">[99]</a> of company; yet in one dream
I can compose a whole comedy, behold the action, apprehend
the jests, and laugh myself awake at the conceits
thereof. Were my memory as faithful as my
reason is then fruitful, I would never study but in my
dreams, and this time also would I choose for my devotions:
but our grosser memories have then so little hold
of our abstracted understandings, that they forget the
story, and can only relate to our awaked souls a confused
and broken tale of that which hath passed. Aristotle,
who hath written a singular tract of sleep, hath
not, methinks, thoroughly defined it; nor yet Galen,
though he seem to have corrected it; for those <i>noctambulos</i>
and night-walkers, though in their sleep, do yet
enjoy the action of their senses. We must therefore say
that there is something in us that is not in the jurisdiction
of Morpheus; and that those abstracted and
ecstatick souls do walk about in their own corpses, as
spirits with the bodies they assume, wherein they seem
to hear, see, and feel, though indeed the organs are
destitute of sense, and their natures of those faculties
that should inform them. Thus it is observed, that men
sometimes, upon the hour of their departure, do speak
and reason above themselves. For then the soul beginning
to be freed from the ligaments of the body, begins
to reason like herself, and to discourse in a strain above
mortality.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 12.&mdash;We term sleep a death; and yet it is waking
that kills us, and destroys those spirits that are the
house of life. ’Tis indeed a part of life that best expresseth
death; for every man truly lives, so long as he
acts his nature, or some way makes good the faculties
of himself. Themistocles therefore, that slew his soldier
in his sleep, was a merciful executioner: ’tis a kind of
punishment the mildness of no laws hath invented; I
wonder the fancy of Lucan and Seneca did not discover
it. It is that death by which we may be literally said
to die daily; a death which Adam died before his mortality;
a death whereby we live a middle and moderating
point between life and death. In fine, so like death,
I dare not trust it without my prayers, and an half
adieu unto the world, and take my farewell in a colloquy
with God:&mdash;</p>

<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza">
       <div class="verse">The night is come, like to the day;</div>
       <div class="verse">Depart not thou, great God, away.</div>
       <div class="verse">Let not my sins, black as the night,</div>
       <div class="verse">Eclipse the lustre of thy light.</div>
       <div class="verse">Keep still in my horizon; for to me</div>
       <div class="verse">The sun makes not the day, but thee.</div>
       <div class="verse">Thou whose nature cannot sleep,</div>
       <div class="verse">On my temples sentry keep;</div>
       <div class="verse">Guard me ’gainst those watchful foes,</div>
       <div class="verse">Whose eyes are open while mine close.</div>
       <div class="verse">Let no dreams my head infest,</div>
       <div class="verse">But such as Jacob’s temples blest.</div>
       <div class="verse">While I do rest, my soul advance:</div>
       <div class="verse">Make my sleep a holy trance:</div>
       <div class="verse">That I may, my rest being wrought,</div>
       <div class="verse">Awake into some holy thought,</div>
       <div class="verse">And with as active vigour run</div>
       <div class="verse">My course as doth the nimble sun.</div>
       <div class="verse">Sleep is a death;&mdash;Oh make me try,</div>
       <div class="verse">By sleeping, what it is to die!</div>
       <div class="verse">And as gently lay my head</div>
       <div class="verse">On my grave, as now my bed.</div>
       <div class="verse">Howe’er I rest, great God, let me</div>
       <div class="verse">Awake again at last with thee.</div>
       <div class="verse">And thus assured, behold I lie</div>
       <div class="verse">Securely, or to wake or die.</div>
       <div class="verse">These are my drowsy days; in vain</div>
       <div class="verse">I do now wake to sleep again:</div>
       <div class="verse">Oh come that hour, when I shall never</div>
       <div class="verse">Sleep again, but wake for ever!</div>
</div></div></div>

<p>This is the dormitive I take to bedward; I need no other
<i>laudanum</i> than this to make me sleep; after which I
close mine eyes in security, content to take my leave of
the sun, and sleep unto the resurrection.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 13.&mdash;The method I should use in distributive
justice, I often observe in commutative; and keep a
geometrical proportion in both, whereby becoming
equable to others, I become unjust to myself, and
supererogate in that common principle, “Do unto
others as thou wouldst be done unto thyself.” I was
not born unto riches, neither is it, I think, my star to
be wealthy; or if it were, the freedom of my mind, and
frankness of my disposition, were able to contradict and
cross my fates: for to me avarice seems not so much a
vice, as a deplorable piece of madness; to conceive ourselves
urinals, or be persuaded that we are dead, is not
so ridiculous, nor so many degrees beyond the power of
hellebore,<a name="FNanchor_100" id="FNanchor_100"></a><a href="#Footnote_100" class="fnanchor">[100]</a> as this. The opinions of theory, and positions
of men, are not so void of reason, as their practised
conclusions. Some have held that snow is black, that
the earth moves, that the soul is air, fire, water; but
all this is philosophy: and there is no delirium, if we
do but speculate the folly and indisputable dotage of
avarice. To that subterraneous idol, and god of the
earth, I do confess I am an atheist. I cannot persuade
myself to honour that the world adores; whatsoever
virtue its prepared substance may have within my
body, it hath no influence nor operation without. I
would not entertain a base design, or an action that
should call me villain, for the Indies; and for this only
do I love and honour my own soul, and have methinks
two arms too few to embrace myself. Aristotle is too
severe, that will not allow us to be truly liberal without
wealth, and the bountiful hand of fortune; if this
be true, I must confess I am charitable only in my
liberal intentions, and bountiful well wishes. But if
the example of the mite be not only an act of wonder,
but an example of the noblest charity, surely poor men
may also build hospitals, and the rich alone have not
erected cathedrals. I have a private method which
others observe not; I take the opportunity of myself
to do good; I borrow occasion of charity from my own
necessities, and supply the wants of others, when I am
in most need myself: for it is an honest stratagem to
take advantage of ourselves, and so to husband the acts
of virtue, that, where they are defective in one circumstance,
they may repay their want, and multiply their
goodness in another. I have not Peru in my desires,
but a competence and ability to perform those good
works to which he hath inclined my nature. He is
rich who hath enough to be charitable; and it is hard
to be so poor that a noble mind may not find a way to
this piece of goodness. “He that giveth to the poor
lendeth to the Lord:” there is more rhetorick in that
one sentence than in a library of sermons. And indeed,
if those sentences were understood by the reader with
the same emphasis as they are delivered by the author,
we needed not those volumes of instructions, but might
be honest by an epitome. Upon this motive only I
cannot behold a beggar without relieving his necessities
with my purse, or his soul with my prayers. These
scenical and accidental differences between us cannot
make me forget that common and untoucht part of us
both: there is under these centoes<a name="FNanchor_101" id="FNanchor_101"></a><a href="#Footnote_101" class="fnanchor">[101]</a> and miserable
outsides, those mutilate and semi bodies, a soul of the
same alloy with our own, whose genealogy is God’s as
well as ours, and in as fair a way to salvation as ourselves.
Statists that labour to contrive a commonwealth
without our poverty take away the object of charity;
not understanding only the commonwealth of a Christian,
but forgetting the prophecy of Christ.<a name="FNanchor_XIX._19" id="FNanchor_XIX._19"></a><a href="#Footnote_XIX._19" class="fnanchor">[XIX.]</a></p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 14.&mdash;Now, there is another part of charity, which
is the basis and pillar of this, and that is the love of
God, for whom we love our neighbour; for this I think
charity, to love God for himself, and our neighbour for
God. And all that is truly amiable is God, or as it were a
divided piece of him, that retains a reflex or shadow of
himself. Nor is it strange that we should place affection
on that which is invisible: all that we truly love
is thus. What we adore under affection of our senses
deserves not the honour of so pure a title. Thus we
adore virtue, though to the eyes of sense she be invisible.
Thus that part of our noble friends that we
love is not that part that we embrace, but that insensible
part that our arms cannot embrace. God being
all goodness, can love nothing but himself; he loves us
but for that part which is as it were himself, and the
traduction of his Holy Spirit. Let us call to assize the
loves of our parents, the affection of our wives and
children, and they are all dumb shows and dreams,
without reality, truth, or constancy. For first there is
a strong bond of affection between us and our parents;
yet how easily dissolved! We betake ourselves to a
woman, forgetting our mother in a wife, and the womb
that bare us in that which shall bear our image. This
woman blessing us with children, our affection leaves
the level it held before, and sinks from our bed unto
our issue and picture of posterity: where affection holds
no steady mansion; they growing up in years, desire
our ends; or, applying themselves to a woman, take a
lawful way to love another better than ourselves. Thus
I perceive a man may be buried alive, and behold his
grave in his own issue.</p>

<p><i>Sect.</i> 15.&mdash;I conclude therefore, and say, there is no
happiness under (or, as Copernicus<a name="FNanchor_XX._20" id="FNanchor_XX._20"></a><a href="#Footnote_XX._20" class="fnanchor">[XX.]</a> will have it, above)
the sun; nor any crambe<a name="FNanchor_102" id="FNanchor_102"></a><a href="#Footnote_102" class="fnanchor">[102]</a> in that repeated verity and
burthen of all the wisdom of Solomon: “All is vanity
and vexation of spirit;” there is no felicity in that the
world adores. Aristotle, whilst he labours to refute
the <i>ideas</i> of Plato, falls upon one himself: for his
<i>summum bonum</i> is a chimæra; and there is no such
thing as his felicity. That wherein God himself is
happy, the holy angels are happy, in whose defect the
devils are unhappy;&mdash;that dare I call happiness: whatsoever
conduceth unto this, may, with an easy metaphor,
deserve that name; whatsoever else the world terms
happiness is, to me, a story out of Pliny, a tale of Bocace
or Malizspini, an apparition or neat delusion, wherein
there is no more of happiness than the name. Bless
me in this life with but the peace of my conscience,
command of my affections, the love of thyself and my
dearest friends, and I shall be happy enough to pity
Cæsar! These are, O Lord, the humble desires of my
most reasonable ambition, and all I dare call happiness
on earth; wherein I set no rule or limit to thy hand or
providence; dispose of me according to the wisdom of
thy pleasure. Thy will be done, though in my own
undoing.</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 125px;">
<img src="images/zill_125.png" width="125" height="109" alt="decoration" />
</div>

<div class="chapter">

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;">
<img src="images/zill_127_1.png" width="250" height="51" alt="decoration" />
</div>


<h2 class="nobreak"><a name="HYDRIOTAPHIA" id="HYDRIOTAPHIA">HYDRIOTAPHIA.</a></h2>


<p class="center">URN BURIAL; OR, A DISCOURSE OF THE SEPULCHRAL URNS
LATELY FOUND IN NORFOLK.</p>


<div class="figcenter" style="width: 125px;">
<img src="images/zill_127_2.png" width="125" height="25" alt="" />
</div>

</div>

<div class="chapter">

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<img src="images/zill_129_1.jpg" width="450" height="102" alt="decoration" />
</div>


<p class="p2 center">TO MY WORTHY AND HONOURED FRIEND,<br />

<span class="large">THOMAS LE GROS,</span><br />

OF CROSTWICK, ESQUIRE.</p>

</div>

<div>
  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/zill_129_2.png" width="70" height="70" alt=""/>
</div>

<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">WHEN</span> the general pyre was out, and the last
valediction over, men took a lasting adieu of
their interred friends, little expecting the
curiosity of future ages should comment upon their
ashes; and, having no old experience of the duration
of their relicks, held no opinion of such after-considerations.</p>

<p>But who knows the fate of his bones, or how often he
is to be buried? Who hath the oracle of his ashes, or
whither they are to be scattered? The relicks of many
lie like the ruins of Pompey’s,<a name="FNanchor_XXI._21" id="FNanchor_XXI._21"></a><a href="#Footnote_XXI._21" class="fnanchor">[XXI.]</a> in all parts of the earth;
and when they arrive at your hands these may seem to
have wandered far, who, in a direct and meridian travel,<a name="FNanchor_XXII._22" id="FNanchor_XXII._22"></a><a href="#Footnote_XXII._22" class="fnanchor">[XXII.]</a>
have but few miles of known earth between yourself
and the pole.</p>

<p>That the bones of Theseus should be seen again in
Athens<a name="FNanchor_XXIII._23" id="FNanchor_XXIII._23"></a><a href="#Footnote_XXIII._23" class="fnanchor">[XXIII.]</a> was not beyond conjecture and hopeful expectation:
but that these should arise so opportunely to serve
yourself was an hit of fate, and honour beyond prediction.</p>

<p>We cannot but wish these urns might have the effect
of theatrical vessels and great Hippodrome urns<a name="FNanchor_XXIV._24" id="FNanchor_XXIV._24"></a><a href="#Footnote_XXIV._24" class="fnanchor">[XXIV.]</a> in
Rome, to resound the acclamations and honour due unto
you. But these are sad and sepulchral pitchers, which
have no joyful voices; silently expressing old mortality,
the ruins of forgotten times, and can only speak with
life, how long in this corruptible frame some parts may
be uncorrupted; yet able to outlast bones long unborn,
and noblest pile among us.</p>

<p>We present not these as any strange sight or spectacle
unknown to your eyes, who have beheld the best of
urns and noblest variety of ashes; who are yourself no
slender master of antiquities, and can daily command
the view of so many imperial faces; which raiseth your
thoughts unto old things and consideration of times
before you, when even living men were antiquities;
when the living might exceed the dead, and to depart
this world could not be properly said to go unto the
greater number.<a name="FNanchor_XXV._25" id="FNanchor_XXV._25"></a><a href="#Footnote_XXV._25" class="fnanchor">[XXV.]</a> And so run up your thoughts upon
the ancient of days, the antiquary’s truest object, unto
whom the eldest parcels are young, and earth itself an
infant, and without Egyptian<a name="FNanchor_XXVI._26" id="FNanchor_XXVI._26"></a><a href="#Footnote_XXVI._26" class="fnanchor">[XXVI.]</a> account makes but small
noise in thousands.</p>

<p>We were hinted by the occasion, not catched the
opportunity to write of old things, or intrude upon the
antiquary. We are coldly drawn unto discourses of
antiquities, who have scarce time before us to comprehend
new things, or make out learned novelties. But
seeing they arose, as they lay almost in silence among
us, at least in short account suddenly passed over, we
were very unwilling they should die again, and be
buried twice among us.</p>

<p>Beside, to preserve the living, and make the dead to
live, to keep men out of their urns, and discourse of
human fragments in them, is not impertinent unto our
profession; whose study is life and death, who daily
behold examples of mortality, and of all men least need
artificial <i>mementos</i>, or coffins by our bedside, to mind us
of our graves.</p>

<p>’Tis time to observe occurrences, and let nothing
remarkable escape us: the supinity of elder days hath
left so much in silence, or time hath so martyred the
records, that the most industrious heads do find no easy
work to erect a new Britannia.</p>

<p>’Tis opportune to look back upon old times, and contemplate
our forefathers. Great examples grow thin,
and to be fetched from the passed world. Simplicity
flies away, and iniquity comes at long strides upon us.
We have enough to do to make up ourselves from
present and passed times, and the whole stage of things
scarce serveth for our instruction. A complete piece of
virtue must be made from the Centos of all ages, as all
the beauties of Greece could make but one handsome
Venus.</p>

<p>When the bones of King Arthur were digged up,<a name="FNanchor_XXVII._27" id="FNanchor_XXVII._27"></a><a href="#Footnote_XXVII._27" class="fnanchor">[XXVII.]</a> the
old race might think they beheld therein some originals
of themselves; unto these of our urns none here can
pretend relation, and can only behold the relicks of
those persons who, in their life giving the laws unto
their predecessors, after long obscurity, now lie at their
mercies. But, remembering the early civility they
brought upon these countries, and forgetting long-passed
mischiefs, we mercifully preserve their bones, and piss
not upon their ashes.</p>

<p>In the offer of these antiquities we drive not at
ancient families, so long outlasted by them. We are
far from erecting your worth upon the pillars of your
forefathers, whose merits you illustrate. We honour
your old virtues, conformable unto times before you,
which are the noblest armoury. And, having long
experience of your friendly conversation, void of empty
formality, full of freedom, constant and generous
honesty, I look upon you as a gem of the old rock,<a name="FNanchor_XXVIII._28" id="FNanchor_XXVIII._28"></a><a href="#Footnote_XXVIII._28" class="fnanchor">[XXVIII.]</a>
and must profess myself even to urn and ashes.&mdash;Your
ever faithful Friend and Servant,</p>

<p class="sig">
<span class="smcap">Thomas Browne.</span><br />
</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Norwich</span>, <i>May 1st</i>.</p>


<div class="figcenter" style="width: 125px;">
<img src="images/zill_132.png" width="125" height="125" alt="decoration" />
</div>


<div class="chapter">

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<img src="images/zill_133_1.jpg" width="450" height="100" alt="decoration" />
</div>


<p class="p2 large center">HYDRIOTAPHIA.</p>


<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER I.</h3>

</div>

<div>
  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/zill_133_2.png" width="70" height="69" alt=""/>
</div>

<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">IN</span> the deep discovery of the subterranean world
a shallow part would satisfy some inquirers;
who, if two or three yards were open about
the surface, would not care to rake the bowels of Potosi,<a name="FNanchor_XXIX._29" id="FNanchor_XXIX._29"></a><a href="#Footnote_XXIX._29" class="fnanchor">[XXIX.]</a>
and regions toward the centre. Nature hath furnished
one part of the earth, and man another. The treasures
of time lie high, in urns, coins, and monuments, scarce
below the roots of some vegetables. Time hath endless
rarities, and shows of all varieties; which reveals old
things in heaven, makes new discoveries in earth, and
even earth itself a discovery. That great antiquity
America lay buried for thousands of years, and a large
part of the earth is still in the urn unto us.</p>

<p>Though if Adam were made out of an extract of the
earth, all parts might challenge a restitution, yet few
have returned their bones far lower than they might
receive them; not affecting the graves of giants, under
hilly and heavy coverings, but content with less than
their own depth, have wished their bones might lie
soft, and the earth be light upon them. Even such as
hope to rise again, would not be content with central
interment, or so desperately to place their relicks as to
lie beyond discovery; and in no way to be seen again;
which happy contrivance hath made communication
with our forefathers, and left unto our view some parts,
which they never beheld themselves.</p>

<p>Though earth hath engrossed the name, yet water
hath proved the smartest grave; which in forty days
swallowed almost mankind, and the living creation;
fishes not wholly escaping, except the salt ocean were
handsomely contempered by a mixture of the fresh
element.</p>

<p>Many have taken voluminous pains to determine the
state of the soul upon disunion; but men have been
most phantastical in the singular contrivances of their
corporal dissolution: whilst the soberest nations have
rested in two ways, of simple inhumation and burning.</p>

<p>That carnal interment or burying was of the elder
date, the old examples of Abraham and the patriarchs
are sufficient to illustrate; and were without competition,
if it could be made out that Adam was buried
near Damascus, or Mount Calvary, according to some
tradition. God himself, that buried but one, was pleased
to make choice of this way, collectible from Scripture
expression, and the hot contest between Satan and the
archangel about discovering the body of Moses. But
the practice of burning was also of great antiquity, and
of no slender extent. For (not to derive the same from
Hercules) noble descriptions there are hereof in the
Grecian funerals of Homer, in the formal obsequies of
Patroclus and Achilles; and somewhat elder in the
Theban war, and solemn combustion of Meneceus, and
Archemorus, contemporary unto Jair the eighth judge
of Israel. Confirmable also among the Trojans, from
the funeral pyre of Hector, burnt before the gates of
Troy: and the burning of Penthesilea the Amazonian
queen: and long continuance of that practice, in the
inward countries of Asia; while as low as the reign of
Julian, we find that the king of Chionia<a name="FNanchor_XXX._30" id="FNanchor_XXX._30"></a><a href="#Footnote_XXX._30" class="fnanchor">[XXX.]</a> burnt the
body of his son, and interred the ashes in a silver urn.</p>

<p>The same practice extended also far west; and
besides Herulians, Getes, and Thracians, was in use
with most of the Celtæ, Sarmatians, Germans, Gauls,
Danes, Swedes, Norwegians; not to omit some use
thereof among Carthaginians and Americans. Of
greater antiquity among the Romans than most opinion,
or Pliny seems to allow: for (besides the old table laws<a name="FNanchor_XXXI._31" id="FNanchor_XXXI._31"></a><a href="#Footnote_XXXI._31" class="fnanchor">[XXXI.]</a>
of burning or burying within the city, of making the
funeral fire with planed wood, or quenching the fire
with wine), Manlius the consul burnt the body of his
son: Numa, by special clause of his will, was not burnt
but buried; and Remus was solemnly burned, according
to the description of Ovid.<a name="FNanchor_XXXII._32" id="FNanchor_XXXII._32"></a><a href="#Footnote_XXXII._32" class="fnanchor">[XXXII.]</a></p>

<p>Cornelius Sylla was not the first whose body was
burned in Rome, but the first of the Cornelian family;
which being indifferently, not frequently used before;
from that time spread, and became the prevalent
practice. Not totally pursued in the highest run of
cremation; for when even crows were funerally burnt,
Poppæa the wife of Nero found a peculiar grave interment.
Now as all customs were founded upon some
bottom of reason, so there wanted not grounds for this;
according to several apprehensions of the most rational
dissolution. Some being of the opinion of Thales, that
water was the original of all things, thought it most
equal<a name="FNanchor_103" id="FNanchor_103"></a><a href="#Footnote_103" class="fnanchor">[103]</a> to submit unto the principle of putrefaction, and
conclude in a moist relentment.<a name="FNanchor_104" id="FNanchor_104"></a><a href="#Footnote_104" class="fnanchor">[104]</a> Others conceived it
most natural to end in fire, as due unto the master
principle in the composition, according to the doctrine
of Heraclitus; and therefore heaped up large piles,
more actively to waft them toward that element,
whereby they also declined a visible degeneration into
worms, and left a lasting parcel of their composition.</p>

<p>Some apprehended a purifying virtue in fire, refining
the grosser commixture, and firing out the æthereal
particles so deeply immersed in it. And such as by
tradition or rational conjecture held any hint of the
final pyre of all things; or that this element at last
must be too hard for all the rest; might conceive most
naturally of the fiery dissolution. Others pretending
no natural grounds, politickly declined the malice of
enemies upon their buried bodies. Which consideration
led Sylla unto this practice; who having thus served
the body of Marius, could not but fear a retaliation
upon his own; entertained after in the civil wars, and
revengeful contentions of Rome.</p>

<p>But as many nations embraced, and many left it indifferent,
so others too much affected, or strictly declined
this practice. The Indian Brachmans seemed
too great friends unto fire, who burnt themselves alive
and thought it the noblest way to end their days in
fire; according to the expression of the Indian, burning
himself at Athens, in his last words upon the pyre
unto the amazed spectators, “thus I make myself immortal.”<a name="FNanchor_XXXIII._33" id="FNanchor_XXXIII._33"></a><a href="#Footnote_XXXIII._33" class="fnanchor">[XXXIII.]</a></p>

<p>But the Chaldeans, the great idolaters of fire, abhorred
the burning of their carcases, as a pollution of
that deity. The Persian magi declined it upon the
like scruples, and being only solicitous about their bones,
exposed their flesh to the prey of birds and dogs. And
the Persees now in India, which expose their bodies
unto vultures, and endure not so much as <i>feretra</i> or
biers of wood, the proper fuel of fire, are led on with such
niceties. But whether the ancient Germans, who burned
their dead, held any such fear to pollute their deity of
Herthus, or the earth, we have no authentic conjecture.</p>

<p>The Egyptians were afraid of fire, not as a deity, but
a devouring element, mercilessly consuming their
bodies, and leaving too little of them; and therefore
by precious embalmments, depositure in dry earths, or
handsome inclosure in glasses, contrived the notablest
ways of integral conservation. And from such Egyptian
scruples, imbibed by Pythagoras, it may be conjectured
that Numa and the Pythagorical sect first
waived the fiery solution.</p>

<p>The Scythians, who swore by wind and sword, that
is, by life and death, were so far from burning their
bodies, that they declined all interment, and made their
graves in the air: and the Ichthyophagi, or fish-eating
nations about Egypt, affected the sea for their grave;
thereby declining visible corruption, and restoring the
debt of their bodies. Whereas the old heroes, in
Homer, dreaded nothing more than water or drowning;
probably upon the old opinion of the fiery substance of
the soul, only extinguishable by that element; and
therefore the poet emphatically implieth<a name="FNanchor_XXXIV._34" id="FNanchor_XXXIV._34"></a><a href="#Footnote_XXXIV._34" class="fnanchor">[XXXIV.]</a> the total
destruction in this kind of death, which happened to
Ajax Oileus.</p>

<p>The old Balearians had a peculiar mode, for they
used great urns and much wood, but no fire in their
burials, while they bruised the flesh and bones of the
dead, crowded them into urns, and laid heaps of wood
upon them. And the Chinese without cremation or
urnal interment of their bodies, make use of trees and
much burning, while they plant a pine-tree by their
grave, and burn great numbers of printed draughts of
slaves and horses over it, civilly content with their
companies in <i>effigy</i>, which barbarous nations exact unto
reality.</p>

<p>Christians abhorred this way of obsequies, and though
they sticked not to give their bodies to be burnt in their
lives, detested that mode after death: affecting rather a
depositure than absumption, and properly submitting
unto the sentence of God, to return not unto ashes but
unto dust again, and conformable unto the practice of
the patriarchs, the interment of our Saviour, of Peter,
Paul, and the ancient martyrs. And so far at last declining
promiscuous interment with Pagans, that some
have suffered ecclesiastical censures,<a name="FNanchor_XXXV._35" id="FNanchor_XXXV._35"></a><a href="#Footnote_XXXV._35" class="fnanchor">[XXXV.]</a> for making no
scruple thereof.</p>

<p>The Mussulman believers will never admit this fiery
resolution. For they hold a present trial from their
black and white angels in the grave; which they must
have made so hollow, that they may rise upon their
knees.</p>

<p>The Jewish nation, though they entertained the old
way of inhumation, yet sometimes admitted this
practice. For the men of Jabesh burnt the body of
Saul; and by no prohibited practice, to avoid contagion
or pollution, in time of pestilence, burnt the bodies of
their friends.<a name="FNanchor_XXXVI._36" id="FNanchor_XXXVI._36"></a><a href="#Footnote_XXXVI._36" class="fnanchor">[XXXVI.]</a> And when they burnt not their dead
bodies, yet sometimes used great burnings near and
about them, deducible from the expressions concerning
Jehoram, Zedechias, and the sumptuous pyre of Asa.
And were so little averse from Pagan burning, that the
Jews lamenting the death of Cæsar their friend, and
revenger on Pompey, frequented the place where his
body was burnt for many nights together. And as
they raised noble monuments and mausoleums for their
own nation,<a name="FNanchor_XXXVII._37" id="FNanchor_XXXVII._37"></a><a href="#Footnote_XXXVII._37" class="fnanchor">[XXXVII.]</a> so they were not scrupulous in erecting
some for others, according to the practice of Daniel, who
left that lasting sepulchral pile in Ecbatana, for the
Median and Persian kings.<a name="FNanchor_XXXVIII._38" id="FNanchor_XXXVIII._38"></a><a href="#Footnote_XXXVIII._38" class="fnanchor">[XXXVIII.]</a></p>

<p>But even in times of subjection and hottest use, they
conformed not unto the Roman practice of burning;
whereby the prophecy was secured concerning the body
of Christ, that it should not see corruption, or a bone
should not be broken; which we believe was also providentially
prevented, from the soldier’s spear and nails
that passed by the little bones both in his hands and
feet; not of ordinary contrivance, that it should not
corrupt on the cross, according to the laws of Roman
crucifixion, or an hair of his head perish, though observable
in Jewish customs, to cut the hair of malefactors.</p>

<p>Nor in their long cohabitation with Egyptians, crept
into a custom of their exact embalming, wherein deeply
slashing the muscles, and taking out the brains and entrails,
they had broken the subject of so entire a resurrection,
nor fully answered the types of Enoch, Elijah,
or Jonah, which yet to prevent or restore, was of equal
facility unto that rising power able to break the fasciations
and bands of death, to get clear out of the cerecloth,
and an hundred pounds of ointment, and out of the
sepulchre before the stone was rolled from it.</p>

<p>But though they embraced not this practice of burning,
yet entertained they many ceremonies agreeable
unto Greek and Roman obsequies. And he that observeth
their funeral feasts, their lamentations at the
grave, their music, and weeping mourners; how they
closed the eyes of their friends, how they washed,
anointed, and kissed the dead; may easily conclude
these were not mere Pagan civilities. But whether
that mournful burthen, and treble calling out after
Absalom, had any reference unto the last conclamation,
and triple valediction, used by other nations, we hold
but a wavering conjecture.</p>

<p>Civilians make sepulture but of the law of nations,
others do naturally found it and discover it also in
animals. They that are so thick-skinned as still to
credit the story of the Phœnix, may say something for
animal burning. More serious conjectures find some
examples of sepulture in elephants, cranes, the sepulchral
cells of pismires, and practice of bees,&mdash;which
civil society carrieth out their dead, and hath exequies,
if not interments.</p>

<div class="chapter">

<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER II.</h3>

</div>

<p><span class="smcap">The</span> solemnities, ceremonies, rites of their cremation
or interment, so solemnly delivered by authors, we
shall not disparage our reader to repeat. Only the last
and lasting part in their urns, collected bones and ashes,
we cannot wholly omit or decline that subject, which
occasion lately presented, in some discovered among us.</p>

<p>In a field of Old Walsingham, not many months past,
were digged up between forty and fifty urns, deposited
in a dry and sandy soil, not a yard deep, nor far from
one another.&mdash;Not all strictly of one figure, but most
answering these described; some containing two pounds
of bones, and teeth, with fresh impressions of their combustion;
besides the extraneous substances, like pieces
of small boxes, or combs handsomely wrought, handles
of small brass instruments, brazen nippers, and in one
some kind of opal.</p>

<p>Near the same plot of ground, for about six yards
compass, were digged up coals and incinerated substances,
which begat conjecture that this was the <i>ustrina</i>
or place of burning their bodies, or some sacrificing
place unto the <i>Manes</i>, which was properly below the
surface of the ground, as the <i>aræ</i> and altars unto the
gods and heroes above it.</p>

<p>That these were the urns of Romans from the common
custom and place where they were found, is no obscure
conjecture, not far from a Roman garrison, and but five
miles from Brancaster, set down by ancient record under
the name of Branodunum. And where the adjoining
town, containing seven parishes, in no very different
sound, but Saxon termination, still retains the name of
Burnham, which being an early station, it is not improbable
the neighbour parts were filled with habitations,
either of Romans themselves, or Britons Romanized,
which observed the Roman customs.</p>

<p>Nor is it improbable, that the Romans early possessed
this country. For though we meet not with such strict
particulars of these parts before the new institution of
Constantine and military charge of the count of the
Saxon shore, and that about the Saxon invasions, the
Dalmatian horsemen were in the garrison of Brancaster;
yet in the time of Claudius, Vespasian, and Severus, we
find no less than three legions dispersed through the
province of Britain. And as high as the reign of
Claudius a great overthrow was given unto the Iceni,
by the Roman lieutenant Ostorius. Not long after, the
country was so molested, that, in hope of a better state,
Prastaagus bequeathed his kingdom unto Nero and his
daughters; and Boadicea, his queen, fought the last
decisive battle with Paulinus. After which time, and
conquest of Agricola, the lieutenant of Vespasian, probable
it is, they wholly possessed this country; ordering
it into garrisons or habitations best suitable with their
securities. And so some Roman habitations not improbable
in these parts, as high as the time of Vespasian,
where the Saxons after seated, in whose thin-filled maps
we yet find the name of Walsingham. Now if the Iceni
were but Gammadims, Anconians, or men that lived in
an angle, wedge, or elbow of Britain, according to the
original etymology, this country will challenge the
emphatical appellation, as most properly making the
elbow or <i>iken</i> of Icenia.</p>

<p>That Britain was notably populous is undeniable, from
that expression of Cæsar.<a name="FNanchor_XXXIX._39" id="FNanchor_XXXIX._39"></a><a href="#Footnote_XXXIX._39" class="fnanchor">[XXXIX.]</a> That the Romans themselves
were early in no small numbers&mdash;seventy thousand,
with their associates, slain, by Boadicea, affords a sure
account. And though not many Roman habitations
are now known, yet some, by old works, rampiers,
coins, and urns, do testify their possessions. Some urns
have been found at Castor, some also about Southcreak,
and, not many years past, no less than ten in a field at
Buxton, not near any recorded garrison. Nor is it
strange to find Roman coins of copper and silver among
us; of Vespasian, Trajan, Adrian, Commodus, Antoninus,
Severus, &amp;c.; but the greater number of Dioclesian,
Constantine, Constans, Valens, with many of
Victorinus Posthumius, Tetricus, and the thirty tyrants
in the reign of Gallienus; and some as high as Adrianus
have been found about Thetford, or Sitomagus, mentioned
in the <i>Itinerary</i> of Antoninus, as the way from Venta or
Castor unto London. But the most frequent discovery
is made at the two Castors by Norwich and Yarmouth
at Burghcastle, and Brancaster.</p>

<p>Besides the Norman, Saxon, and Danish pieces of
Cuthred, Canutus, William, Matilda, and others, some
British coins of gold have been dispersedly found, and
no small number of silver pieces near Norwich, with a
rude head upon the obverse, and an ill-formed horse
on the reverse, with inscriptions <i>Ic. Duro. T.;</i> whether
implying Iceni, Durotriges, Tascia, or Trinobantes, we
leave to higher conjecture. Vulgar chronology will
have Norwich Castle as old as Julius Cæsar; but his
distance from these parts, and its Gothick form of
structure, abridgeth such antiquity. The British coins
afford conjecture of early habitation in these parts,
though the city of Norwich arose from the ruins of
Venta; and though, perhaps, not without some habitation
before, was enlarged, builded, and nominated by
the Saxons. In what bulk or populosity it stood in the
old East-Angle monarchy tradition and history are
silent. Considerable it was in the Danish eruptions,
when Sueno burnt Thetford and Norwich, and Ulfketel,
the governor thereof, was able to make some resistance,
and after endeavoured to burn the Danish navy.</p>

<p>How the Romans left so many coins in countries of
their conquests seems of hard resolution; except we
consider how they buried them under ground when,
upon barbarous invasions, they were fain to desert their
habitations in most part of their empire, and the strictness
of their laws forbidding to transfer them to any
other uses: wherein the Spartans were singular, who,
to make their copper money useless, contempered it with
vinegar. That the Britons left any, some wonder, since
their money was iron and iron rings before Cæsar; and
those of after-stamp by permission, and but small in
bulk and bigness. That so few of the Saxons remain,
because, overcome by succeeding conquerors upon the
place, their coins, by degrees, passed into other stamps
and the marks of after-ages.</p>

<p>Than the time of these urns deposited, or precise
antiquity of these relicks, nothing of more uncertainty;
for since the lieutenant of Claudius seems to have made
the first progress into these parts, since Boadicea was
overthrown by the forces of Nero, and Agricola put a
full end to these conquests, it is not probable the country
was fully garrisoned or planted before; and, therefore,
however these urns might be of later date, not likely of
higher antiquity.</p>

<p>And the succeeding emperors desisted not from their
conquests in these and other parts, as testified by history
and medal-inscription yet extant: the province of
Britain, in so divided a distance from Rome, beholding
the faces of many imperial persons, and in large account;
no fewer than Cæsar, Claudius, Britannicus, Vespasian,
Titus, Adrian, Severus, Commodus, Geta, and Caracalla.</p>

<p>A great obscurity herein, because no medal or emperor’s
coin enclosed, which might denote the date of
their interments; observable in many urns, and found
in those of Spitalfields, by London, which contained the
coins of Claudius, Vespasian, Commodus, Antoninus,
attended with lacrymatories, lamps, bottles of liquor,
and other appurtenances of affectionate superstition,
which in these rural interments were wanting.</p>

<p>Some uncertainty there is from the period or term of
burning, or the cessation of that practice. Macrobius
affirmeth it was disused in his days; but most agree,
though without authentic record, that it ceased with the
Antonini,&mdash;most safely to be understood after the reign
of those emperors which assumed the name of Antoninus,
extending unto Heliogabalus. Not strictly after Marcus;
for about fifty years later, we find the magnificent burning
and consecration of Servus; and, if we so fix this
period or cessation, these urns will challenge above
thirteen hundred years.</p>

<p>But whether this practice was only then left by emperors
and great persons, or generally about Rome, and
not in other provinces, we hold no authentic account;
for after Tertullian, in the days of Minucius, it was
obviously objected upon Christians, that they condemned
the practice of burning.<a name="FNanchor_XL._40" id="FNanchor_XL._40"></a><a href="#Footnote_XL._40" class="fnanchor">[XL.]</a> And we find a passage
in Sidonius, which asserteth that practice in France
unto a lower account. And, perhaps, not fully disused
till Christianity fully established, which gave the final
extinction to these sepulchral bonfires.</p>

<p>Whether they were the bones of men, or women, or
children, no authentic decision from ancient custom in
distinct places of burial. Although not improbably
conjectured, that the double sepulture, or burying-place
of Abraham, had in it such intention. But from exility
of bones, thinness of skulls, smallness of teeth, ribs, and
thigh-bones, not improbable that many thereof were
persons of minor age, or woman. Confirmable also from
things contained in them. In most were found substances
resembling combs, plates like boxes, fastened
with iron pins, and handsomely overwrought like the
necks or bridges of musical instruments; long brass
plates overwrought like the handles of neat implements;
brazen nippers, to pull away hair; and in one a kind
of opal, yet maintaining a bluish colour.</p>

<p>Now that they accustomed to burn or bury with them,
things wherein they excelled, delighted, or which were
dear unto them, either as farewells unto all pleasure, or
vain apprehension that they might use them in the
other world, is testified by all antiquity, observable
from the gem or beryl ring upon the finger of Cynthia,
the mistress of Propertius, when after her funeral pyre
her ghost appeared unto him; and notably illustrated
from the contents of that Roman urn preserved by
Cardinal Farnese, wherein besides great number of
gems with heads of gods and goddesses, were found an
ape of agath, a grasshopper, an elephant of amber, a
crystal ball, three glasses, two spoons, and six nuts of
crystal; and beyond the content of urns, in the monument
of Childerick the first, and fourth king from
Pharamond, casually discovered three years past at
Tournay, restoring unto the world much gold richly
adorning his sword, two hundred rubies, many hundred
imperial coins, three hundred golden bees, the bones
and horse-shoes of his horse interred with him, according
to the barbarous magnificence of those days in
their sepulchral obsequies. Although, if we steer by
the conjecture of many a Septuagint expression, some
trace thereof may be found even with the ancient
Hebrews, not only from the sepulchral treasure of David,
but the circumcision knives which Joshua also buried.</p>

<p>Some men, considering the contents of these urns,
lasting pieces and toys included in them, and the custom
of burning with many other nations, might somewhat
doubt whether all urns found among us, were properly
Roman relicks, or some not belonging unto our British,
Saxon, or Danish forefathers.</p>

<p>In the form of burial among the ancient Britons, the
large discourses of Cæsar, Tacitus, and Strabo are silent.
For the discovery whereof, with other particulars, we
much deplore the loss of that letter which Cicero expected
or received from his brother Quintus, as a resolution
of British customs; or the account which might
have been made by Scribonius Largus, the physician,
accompanying the Emperor Claudius, who might have
also discovered that frugal bit of the old Britons, which
in the bigness of a bean could satisfy their thirst and
hunger.</p>

<p>But that the Druids and ruling priests used to burn
and bury, is expressed by Pomponius; that Bellinus,
the brother of Brennus, and King of the Britons, was
burnt, is acknowledged by Polydorus, as also by Amandus
Zierexensis in <i>Historia</i> and Pineda in his <i>Universa
Historia</i> (Spanish). That they held that practice in
Gallia, Cæsar expressly delivereth. Whether the Britons
(probably descended from them, of like religion, language,
and manners) did not sometimes make use of
burning, or whether at least such as were after civilized
unto the Roman life and manners, conformed not unto
this practice, we have no historical assertion or denial.
But since, from the account of Tacitus, the Romans
early wrought so much civility upon the British stock,
that they brought them to build temples, to wear the
gown, and study the Roman laws and language, that
they conformed also unto their religious rites and customs
in burials, seems no improbable conjecture.</p>

<p>That burning the dead was used in Sarmatia is affirmed
by Gaguinus; that the Sueons and Gathlanders used to
burn their princes and great persons, is delivered by
Saxo and Olaus; that this was the old German practice,
is also asserted by Tacitus. And though we are bare in
historical particulars of such obsequies in this island, or
that the Saxons, Jutes, and Angles burnt their dead,
yet came they from parts where ’twas of ancient practice;
the Germans using it, from whom they were descended.
And even in Jutland and Sleswick in Anglia Cymbrica,
urns with bones were found not many years before us.</p>

<p>But the Danish and northern nations have raised an
era or point of compute from their custom of burning
their dead: some deriving it from Unguinus, some from
Frotho the great, who ordained by law, that princes and
chief commanders should be committed unto the fire,
though the common sort had the common grave interment.
So Starkatterus, that old hero, was burnt, and
Ringo royally burnt the body of Harold the king slain
by him.</p>

<p>What time this custom generally expired in that nation,
we discern no assured period; whether it ceased
before Christianity, or upon their conversion, by Ausgurius
the Gaul, in the time of Ludovicus Pius, the son
of Charles the Great, according to good computes; or
whether it might not be used by some persons, while
for an hundred and eighty years Paganism and Christianity
were promiscuously embraced among them, there
is no assured conclusion. About which times the Danes
were busy in England, and particularly infested this
country; where many castles and strongholds were
built by them, or against them, and great number of
names and families still derived from them. But since
this custom was probably disused before their invasion
or conquest, and the Romans confessedly practised the
same since their possession of this island, the most
assured account will fall upon the Romans, or Britons
Romanized.</p>

<p>However, certain it is, that urns conceived of no
Roman original, are often digged up both in Norway
and Denmark, handsomely described, and graphically
represented by the learned physician Wormius. And
in some parts of Denmark in no ordinary number, as
stands delivered by authors exactly describing those
countries. And they contained not only bones, but
many other substances in them, as knives, pieces of
iron, brass, and wood, and one of Norway a brass gilded
jew’s-harp.</p>

<p>Nor were they confused or careless in disposing the
noblest sort, while they placed large stones in circle
about the urns or bodies which they interred: somewhat
answerable unto the monument of Rollrich stones in
England, or sepulchral monument probably erected by
Rollo, who after conquered Normandy; where ’tis not
improbable somewhat might be discovered. Meanwhile
to what nation or person belonged that large urn found
at Ashbury,<a name="FNanchor_XLI._41" id="FNanchor_XLI._41"></a><a href="#Footnote_XLI._41" class="fnanchor">[XLI.]</a> containing mighty bones, and a buckler;
what those large urns found at Little Massingham;<a name="FNanchor_XLII._42" id="FNanchor_XLII._42"></a><a href="#Footnote_XLII._42" class="fnanchor">[XLII.]</a>
or why the Anglesea urns are placed with their mouths
downward, remains yet undiscovered.</p>


<div class="chapter">

<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER III.</h3>

</div>

<p><span class="smcap">Plaistered</span> and whited sepulchres were anciently
affected in cadaverous and corrupted burials; and the
rigid Jews were wont to garnish the sepulchres of the
righteous.<a name="FNanchor_XLIII._43" id="FNanchor_XLIII._43"></a><a href="#Footnote_XLIII._43" class="fnanchor">[XLIII.]</a> Ulysses, in Hecuba, cared not how meanly
he lived, so he might find a noble tomb after death.<a name="FNanchor_XLIV._44" id="FNanchor_XLIV._44"></a><a href="#Footnote_XLIV._44" class="fnanchor">[XLIV.]</a>
Great princes affected great monuments; and the fair
and larger urns contained no vulgar ashes, which makes
that disparity in those which time discovereth among
us. The present urns were not of one capacity, the
largest containing above a gallon, some not much above
half that measure; nor all of one figure, wherein there
is no strict conformity in the same or different countries;
observable from those represented by Casalius, Bosio,
and others, though all found in Italy; while many
have handles, ears, and long necks, but most imitate a
circular figure, in a spherical and round composure;
whether from any mystery, best duration or capacity,
were but a conjecture. But the common form with
necks was a proper figure, making our last bed like our
first; nor much unlike the urns of our nativity while
we lay in the nether part of the earth,<a name="FNanchor_XLV._45" id="FNanchor_XLV._45"></a><a href="#Footnote_XLV._45" class="fnanchor">[XLV.]</a> and inward
vault of our microcosm. Many urns are red, these but
of a black colour somewhat smooth, and dully sounding,
which begat some doubt, whether they were burnt, or
only baked in oven or sun, according to the ancient way,
in many bricks, tiles, pots, and testaceous works; and,
as the word <i>testa</i> is properly to be taken, when occurring
without addition and chiefly intended by Pliny,
when he commendeth bricks and tiles of two years old,
and to make them in the spring. Nor only these concealed
pieces, but the open magnificence of antiquity,
ran much in the artifice of clay. Hereof the house of
Mausolus was built, thus old Jupiter stood in the Capitol,
and the statua of Hercules, made in the reign of Tarquinius
Priscus, was extant in Pliny’s days. And such
as declined burning or funeral urns, affected coffins of
clay, according to the mode of Pythagoras, a way preferred
by Varro. But the spirit of great ones was above
these circumscriptions, affecting copper, silver, gold, and
porphyry urns, wherein Severus lay, after a serious
view and sentence on that which should contain him.<a name="FNanchor_XLVI._46" id="FNanchor_XLVI._46"></a><a href="#Footnote_XLVI._46" class="fnanchor">[XLVI.]</a>
Some of these urns were thought to have been silvered
over, from sparklings in several pots, with small tinsel
parcels; uncertain whether from the earth, or the first
mixture in them.</p>

<p>Among these urns we could obtain no good account
of their coverings; only one seemed arched over with
some kind of brickwork. Of those found at Buxton,
some were covered with flints, some, in other parts, with
tiles; those at Yarmouth Caster were closed with Roman
bricks, and some have proper earthen covers adapted
and fitted to them. But in the Homerical urn of
Patroclus, whatever was the solid tegument, we find the
immediate covering to be a purple piece of silk: and
such as had no covers might have the earth closely
pressed into them, after which disposure were probably
some of these, wherein we found the bones and ashes
half mortared unto the sand and sides of the urn, and
some long roots of quich, or dog’s-grass, wreathed about
the bones.</p>

<p>No Lamps, included liquors, lacrymatories, or tear
bottles, attended these rural urns, either as sacred unto
the <i>manes</i>, or passionate expressions of their surviving
friends. While with rich flames, and hired tears, they
solemnized their obsequies, and in the most lamented
monuments made one part of their inscriptions.<a name="FNanchor_XLVII._47" id="FNanchor_XLVII._47"></a><a href="#Footnote_XLVII._47" class="fnanchor">[XLVII.]</a> Some
find sepulchral vessels containing liquors, which time
hath incrassated into jellies. For, besides these lacrymatories,
notable lamps, with vessels of oils, and aromatical
liquors, attended noble ossuaries; and some
yet retaining a vinosity and spirit in them, which, if
any have tasted, they have far exceeded the palates of
antiquity. Liquors not to be computed by years of
annual magistrates, but by great conjunctions and the
fatal periods of kingdoms.<a name="FNanchor_XLVIII._48" id="FNanchor_XLVIII._48"></a><a href="#Footnote_XLVIII._48" class="fnanchor">[XLVIII.]</a> The draughts of consulary
date were but crude unto these, and Opimian wine but
in the must unto them.<a name="FNanchor_XLIX._49" id="FNanchor_XLIX._49"></a><a href="#Footnote_XLIX._49" class="fnanchor">[XLIX.]</a></p>

<p>In sundry graves and sepulchres we meet with rings,
coins, and chalices. Ancient frugality was so severe,
that they allowed no gold to attend the corpse, but only
that which served to fasten their teeth. Whether the
Opaline stone in this were burnt upon the finger of the
dead, or cast into the fire by some affectionate friend,
it will consist with either custom. But other incinerable
substances were found so fresh, that they could
feel no singe from fire. These, upon view, were judged
to be wood; but, sinking in water, and tried by the
fire, we found them to be bone or ivory. In their
hardness and yellow colour they most resembled box,
which, in old expressions, found the epithet of eternal,
and perhaps in such conservatories might have passed
uncorrupted.</p>

<p>That bay leaves were found green in the tomb of S.
Humbert, after an hundred and fifty years, was looked
upon as miraculous. Remarkable it was unto old
spectators, that the cypress of the temple of Diana lasted
so many hundred years. The wood of the ark, and
olive-rod of Aaron, were older at the captivity; but
the cypress of the ark of Noah was the greatest vegetable
of antiquity, if Josephus were not deceived by some
fragments of it in his days: to omit the moor logs
and fir trees found underground in many parts of
England; the undated ruins of winds, floods, or earthquakes,
and which in Flanders still show from what
quarter they fell, as generally lying in a north-east
position.</p>

<p>But though we found not these pieces to be wood, according
to first apprehensions, yet we missed not altogether
of some woody substance; for the bones were
not so clearly picked but some coals were found amongst
them; a way to make wood perpetual, and a fit associate
for metal, whereon was laid the foundation of the great
Ephesian temple, and which were made the lasting tests
of old boundaries and landmarks. Whilst we look on
these, we admire not observations of coals found fresh
after four hundred years. In a long-deserted habitation
even egg-shells have been found fresh, not tending to
corruption.</p>

<p>In the monument of King Childerick the iron relicks
were found all rusty and crumbling into pieces; but
our little iron pins, which fastened the ivory works,
held well together, and lost not their magnetical quality,
though wanting a tenacious moisture for the firmer
union of parts; although it be hardly drawn into fusion,
yet that metal soon submitteth unto rust and dissolution.
In the brazen pieces we admired not the duration,
but the freedom from rust, and ill savour, upon the
hardest attrition; but now exposed unto the piercing
atoms of air, in the space of a few months, they begin
to spot and betray their green entrails. We conceive
not these urns to have descended thus naked as they
appear, or to have entered their graves without the old
habit of flowers. The urn of Philopœmen was so laden
with flowers and ribbons, that it afforded no sight of
itself. The rigid Lycurgus allowed olive and myrtle.
The Athenians might fairly except against the practice
of Democritus, to be buried up in honey, as fearing to
embezzle a great commodity of their country, and the
best of that kind in Europe. But Plato seemed too
frugally politick, who allowed no larger monument
than would contain four heroick verses, and designed
the most barren ground for sepulture: though we cannot
commend the goodness of that sepulchral ground
which was set at no higher rate than the mean salary
of Judas. Though the earth had confounded the ashes
of these ossuaries, yet the bones were so smartly burnt,
that some thin plates of brass were found half melted
among them. Whereby we apprehend they were not
of the meanest caresses, perfunctorily fired, as sometimes
in military, and commonly in pestilence, burnings;
or after the manner of abject corpses, huddled
forth and carelessly burnt, without the Esquiline Port
at Rome; which was an affront continued upon Tiberius,
while they but half burnt his body, and in the amphitheatre,
according to the custom in notable malefactors;<a name="FNanchor_L._50" id="FNanchor_L._50"></a><a href="#Footnote_L._50" class="fnanchor">[L.]</a>
whereas Nero seemed not so much to fear his
death as that his head should be cut off and his body
not burnt entire.</p>

<p>Some, finding many fragments of skulls in these urns,
suspected a mixture of bones; in none we searched was
there cause of such conjecture, though sometimes they
declined not that practice.&mdash;The ashes of Domitian
were mingled with those of Julia; of Achilles with
those of Patroclus. All urns contained not single ashes;
without confused burnings they affectionately compounded
their bones; passionately endeavouring to
continue their living unions. And when distance of
death denied such conjunctions, unsatisfied affections
conceived some satisfaction to be neighbours in the
grave, to lie urn by urn, and touch but in their manes.
And many were so curious to continue their living relations,
that they contrived large and family urns, wherein
the ashes of their nearest friends and kindred might
successively be received, at least some parcels thereof,
while their collateral memorials lay in minor vessels
about them.</p>

<p>Antiquity held too light thoughts from objects of
mortality, while some drew provocatives of mirth from
anatomies,<a name="FNanchor_LI._51" id="FNanchor_LI._51"></a><a href="#Footnote_LI._51" class="fnanchor">[LI.]</a> and jugglers showed tricks with skeletons.
When fiddlers made not so pleasant mirth as fencers,
and men could sit with quiet stomachs, while hanging
was played before them.<a name="FNanchor_LII._52" id="FNanchor_LII._52"></a><a href="#Footnote_LII._52" class="fnanchor">[LII.]</a> Old considerations made few
mementos by skulls and bones upon their monuments.
In the Egyptian obelisks and hieroglyphical figures it
is not easy to meet with bones. The sepulchral lamps
speak nothing less than sepulture, and in their literal
draughts prove often obscene and antick pieces. Where
we find <i>D. M.</i><a name="FNanchor_LIII._53" id="FNanchor_LIII._53"></a><a href="#Footnote_LIII._53" class="fnanchor">[LIII.]</a> it is obvious to meet with sacrificing
<i>pateras</i> and vessels of libation upon old sepulchral
monuments. In the Jewish hypogæum and subterranean
cell at Rome, was little observable beside the
variety of lamps and frequent draughts of Anthony and
Jerome we meet with thigh-bones and death’s-heads;
but the cemeterial cells of ancient Christians and
martyrs were filled with draughts of Scripture stories;
not declining the flourishes of cypress, palms, and olive,
and the mystical figures of peacocks, doves, and cocks;
but iterately affecting the portraits of Enoch, Lazarus,
Jonas, and the vision of Ezekiel, as hopeful draughts,
and hinting imagery of the resurrection, which is the
life of the grave, and sweetens our habitations in the
land of moles and pismires.</p>

<p>Gentle inscriptions precisely delivered the extent of
men’s lives, seldom the manner of their deaths, which
history itself so often leaves obscure in the records of
memorable persons. There is scarce any philosopher but
dies twice or thrice in Laertius; nor almost any life
without two or three deaths in Plutarch; which makes
the tragical ends of noble persons more favourably resented
by compassionate readers who find some relief
in the election of such differences.</p>

<p>The certainty of death is attended with uncertainties,
in time, manner, places. The variety of monuments
hath often obscured true graves; and cenotaphs confounded
sepulchres. For beside their real tombs, many
have found honorary and empty sepulchres. The
variety of Homer’s monuments made him of various
countries. Euripides had his tomb in Africa, but his
sepulture in Macedonia. And Severus found his real
sepulchre in Rome, but his empty grave in Gallia.</p>

<p>He that lay in a golden urn eminently above the earth,
was not like to find the quiet of his bones. Many of
these urns were broke by a vulgar discoverer in hope of
enclosed treasure. The ashes of Marcellus were lost
above ground, upon the like account. Where profit
hath prompted, no age hath wanted such miners. For
which the most barbarous expilators found the most
civil rhetorick. Gold once out of the earth is no more
due unto it; what was unreasonably committed to the
ground, is reasonably resumed from it; let monuments
and rich fabricks, not riches, adorn men’s ashes. The
commerce of the living is not to be transferred unto the
dead; it is not injustice to take that which none complains
to lose, and no man is wronged where no man is
possessor.</p>

<p>What virtue yet sleeps in this <i>terra damnata</i> and aged
cinders, were petty magic to experiment. These crumbling
relicks and long fired particles superannuate such
expectations; bones, hairs, nails, and teeth of the dead,
were the treasures of old sorcerers. In vain we revive
such practices; present superstition too visibly perpetuates
the folly of our forefathers, wherein unto old
observation this island was so complete, that it might
have instructed Persia.</p>

<p>Plato’s historian of the other world lies twelve days
incorrupted, while his soul was viewing the large stations
of the dead. How to keep the corpse seven days from
corruption by anointing and washing, without extenteration,
were an hazardable piece of art, in our choicest
practice. How they made distinct separation of bones
and ashes from fiery admixture, hath found no historical
solution; though they seemed to make a distinct collection
and overlooked not Pyrrhus his toe. Some provision
they might make by fictile vessels, coverings,
tiles, or flat stones, upon and about the body (and in
the same field, not far from these urns, many stones were
found underground), as also by careful separation of
extraneous matter composing and raking up the burnt
bones with forks, observable in that notable lamp of
Galvanus Martianus, who had the sight of the <i>vas
ustrinum</i> or vessel wherein they burnt the dead, found
in the Esquiline field at Rome, might have afforded
clearer solution. But their insatisfaction herein begat
that remarkable invention in the funeral pyres of some
princes, by incombustible sheets made with a texture of
asbestos, incremable flax, or salamander’s wool, which
preserved their bones and ashes incommixed.</p>

<p>How the bulk of a man should sink into so few pounds
of bones and ashes, may seem strange unto any who
considers not its constitution, and how slender a mass
will remain upon an open and urging fire of the carnal
composition. Even bones themselves, reduced into
ashes, do abate a notable proportion. And consisting
much of a volatile salt, when that is fired out, make a
light kind of cinders. Although their bulk be disproportionable
to their weight, when the heavy principle
of salt is fired out, and the earth almost only remaineth;
observable in sallow, which makes more ashes than oak,
and discovers the common fraud of selling ashes by
measure, and not by ponderation.</p>

<p>Some bones make best skeletons, some bodies quick
and speediest ashes. Who would expect a quick flame
from hydropical Heraclitus? The poisoned soldier
when his belly brake, put out two pyres in Plutarch.
But in the plague of Athens, one private pyre served
two or three intruders; and the Saracens burnt in large
heaps, by the king of Castile, showed how little fuel
sufficeth. Though the funeral pyre of Patroclus took
up an hundred foot,<a name="FNanchor_LIV._54" id="FNanchor_LIV._54"></a><a href="#Footnote_LIV._54" class="fnanchor">[LIV.]</a> a piece of an old boat burnt Pompey;
and if the burthen of Isaac were sufficient for an holocaust,
a man may carry his own pyre.</p>

<p>From animals are drawn good burning lights, and
good medicines against burning. Though the seminal
humour seems of a contrary nature to fire, yet the body
completed proves a combustible lump, wherein fire
finds flame even from bones, and some fuel almost from
all parts; though the metropolis of humidity<a name="FNanchor_LV._55" id="FNanchor_LV._55"></a><a href="#Footnote_LV._55" class="fnanchor">[LV.]</a> seems
least disposed unto it, which might render the skulls of
these urns less burned than other bones. But all flies
or sinks before fire almost in all bodies: when the common
ligament is dissolved, the attenuable parts ascend,
the rest subside in coal, calx, or ashes.</p>

<p>To burn the bones of the king of Edom for lime,<a name="FNanchor_LVI._56" id="FNanchor_LVI._56"></a><a href="#Footnote_LVI._56" class="fnanchor">[LVI.]</a>
seems no irrational ferity; but to drink of the ashes
of dead relations,<a name="FNanchor_LVII._57" id="FNanchor_LVII._57"></a><a href="#Footnote_LVII._57" class="fnanchor">[LVII.]</a> a passionate prodigality. He that
hath the ashes of his friend, hath an everlasting
treasure; where fire taketh leave, corruption slowly
enters. In bones well burnt, fire makes a wall against
itself; experimented in Copels,<a name="FNanchor_105" id="FNanchor_105"></a><a href="#Footnote_105" class="fnanchor">[105]</a> and tests of metals,
which consist of such ingredients. What the sun compoundeth,
fire analyzeth, not transmuteth. That devouring
agent leaves almost always a morsel for the
earth, whereof all things are but a colony; and which,
if time permits, the mother element will have in their
primitive mass again.</p>

<p>He that looks for urns and old sepulchral relicks, must
not seek them in the ruins of temples, where no religion
anciently placed them. These were found in a field,
according to ancient custom, in noble or private burial;
the old practice of the Canaanites, the family of Abraham,
and the burying-place of Joshua, in the borders
of his possessions; and also agreeable unto Roman
practice to bury by highways, whereby their monuments
were under eye:&mdash;memorials of themselves, and
mementoes of mortality unto living passengers; whom
the epitaphs of great ones were fain to beg to stay and
look upon them,&mdash;a language though sometimes used,
not so proper in church inscriptions.<a name="FNanchor_LVIII._58" id="FNanchor_LVIII._58"></a><a href="#Footnote_LVIII._58" class="fnanchor">[LVIII.]</a> The sensible
rhetorick of the dead, to exemplarity of good life, first
admitted to the bones of pious men and martyrs within
church walls, which in succeeding ages crept into promiscuous
practice: while Constantine was peculiarly
favoured to be admitted into the church porch, and the
first thus buried in England, was in the days of Cuthred.</p>

<p>Christians dispute how their bodies should lie in the
grave. In urnal interment they clearly escaped this
controversy. Though we decline the religious consideration,
yet in cemeterial and narrower burying-places, to
avoid confusion and cross-position, a certain posture
were to be admitted: which even Pagan civility observed.
The Persians lay north and south; the Megarians and
Phœnicians placed their heads to the east; the Athenians,
some think, towards the west, which Christians
still retain. And Beda will have it to be the posture
of our Saviour. That he was crucified with his face
toward the west, we will not contend with tradition and
probable account; but we applaud not the hand of the
painter, in exalting his cross so high above those on
either side: since hereof we find no authentic account
in history, and even the crosses found by Helena, pretend
no such distinction from longitude or dimension.</p>

<p>To be knav’d out of our graves, to have our skulls
made drinking-bowls, and our bones turned into pipes,
to delight and sport our enemies, are tragical abominations
escaped in burning burials.</p>

<p>Urnal interments and burnt relicks lie not in fear of
worms, or to be an heritage for serpents. In carnal
sepulture, corruptions seem peculiar unto parts; and
some speak of snakes out of the spinal marrow. But
while we suppose common worms in graves, ’tis not
easy to find any there; few in churchyards above a foot
deep, fewer or none in churches though in fresh-decayed
bodies. Teeth, bones, and hair, give the most lasting
defiance to corruption. In an hydropical body, ten
years buried in the churchyard, we met with a fat concretion,
where the nitre of the earth, and the salt and
lixivious liquor of the body, had coagulated large lumps
of fat into the consistence of the hardest Castile soap,
whereof part remaineth with us.<a name="FNanchor_106" id="FNanchor_106"></a><a href="#Footnote_106" class="fnanchor">[106]</a> After a battle with
the Persians, the Roman corpses decayed in few days,
while the Persian bodies remained dry and uncorrupted.
Bodies in the same ground do not uniformly dissolve, nor
bones equally moulder; whereof in the opprobrious
disease, we expect no long duration. The body of the
Marquis of Dorset<a name="FNanchor_LIX._59" id="FNanchor_LIX._59"></a><a href="#Footnote_LIX._59" class="fnanchor">[LIX.]</a> seemed sound and handsomely cereclothed,
that after seventy-eight years was found uncorrupted.
Common tombs preserve not beyond powder:
a firmer consistence and compage of parts might be expected
from arefaction, deep burial, or charcoal. The
greatest antiquities of mortal bodies may remain in
putrefied bones, whereof, though we take not in the
pillar of Lot’s wife, or metamorphosis of Ortelius, some
may be older than pyramids, in the putrefied relicks of
the general inundation. When Alexander opened the
tomb of Cyrus, the remaining bones discovered his proportion,
whereof urnal fragments afford but a bad
conjecture, and have this disadvantage of grave interments,
that they leave us ignorant of most personal discoveries.
For since bones afford not only rectitude and
stability but figure unto the body, it is no impossible
physiognomy to conjecture at fleshy appendencies,
and after what shape the muscles and carnous parts
might hang in their full consistencies. A full-spread
<i>cariola</i> shows a well-shaped horse behind; handsome
formed skulls give some analogy of fleshy resemblance.
A critical view of bones makes a good distinction of
sexes. Even colour is not beyond conjecture, since it
is hard to be deceived in the distinction of the Negroes’
skulls.<a name="FNanchor_107" id="FNanchor_107"></a><a href="#Footnote_107" class="fnanchor">[107]</a> Dante’s<a name="FNanchor_LX._60" id="FNanchor_LX._60"></a><a href="#Footnote_LX._60" class="fnanchor">[LX.]</a> characters are to be found in skulls as
well as faces. Hercules is not only known by his foot.
Other parts make out their comproportions and inferences
upon whole or parts. And since the dimensions
of the head measure the whole body, and the figure
thereof gives conjecture of the principal faculties:
physiognomy outlives ourselves, and ends not in our
graves.</p>

<p>Severe contemplators, observing these lasting relicks,
may think them good monuments of persons past, little
advantage to future beings; and, considering that power
which subdueth all things unto itself, that can resume
the scattered atoms, or identify out of anything, conceive
it superfluous to expect a resurrection out of relicks:
but the soul subsisting, other matter, clothed with due
accidents, may salve the individuality. Yet the saints,
we observe, arose from graves and monuments about
the holy city. Some think the ancient patriarchs so
earnestly desired to lay their bones in Canaan, as hoping
to make a part of that resurrection; and, though thirty
miles from Mount Calvary, at least to lie in that region
which should produce the first-fruits of the dead. And
if, according to learned conjecture, the bodies of men
shall rise where their greatest relicks remain, many are
not like to err in the topography of their resurrection,
though their bones or bodies be after translated by
angels into the field of Ezekiel’s vision, or as some will
order it, into the valley of judgment, or Jehosaphat.</p>


<div class="chapter">

<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER IV.</h3>

</div>

<p><span class="smcap">Christians</span> have handsomely glossed the deformity
of death by careful consideration of the body, and civil
rites which take off brutal terminations: and though
they conceived all reparable by a resurrection, cast not
off all care of interment. And since the ashes of sacrifices
burnt upon the altar of God were carefully carried out
by the priests, and deposed in a clean field; since they
acknowledged their bodies to be the lodging of Christ,
and temples of the Holy Ghost, they devolved not all
upon the sufficiency of soul-existence; and therefore
with long services and full solemnities, concluded their
last exequies, wherein to all distinctions the Greek
devotion seems most pathetically ceremonious.</p>

<p>Christian invention hath chiefly driven at rites, which
speak hopes of another life, and hints of a resurrection.
And if the ancient Gentiles held not the immortality of
their better part, and some subsistence after death, in
several rites, customs, actions, and expressions, they
contradicted their own opinions: wherein Democritus
went high, even to the thought of a resurrection, as
scoffingly recorded by Pliny.<a name="FNanchor_LXI._61" id="FNanchor_LXI._61"></a><a href="#Footnote_LXI._61" class="fnanchor">[LXI.]</a> What can be more
express than the expression of Phocylides?<a name="FNanchor_LXII._62" id="FNanchor_LXII._62"></a><a href="#Footnote_LXII._62" class="fnanchor">[LXII.]</a> Or who
would expect from Lucretius<a name="FNanchor_LXIII._63" id="FNanchor_LXIII._63"></a><a href="#Footnote_LXIII._63" class="fnanchor">[LXIII.]</a> a sentence of Ecclesiastes?
Before Plato could speak, the soul had wings in Homer,
which fell not, but flew out of the body into the mansions
of the dead; who also observed that handsome
distinction of Demas and Soma, for the body conjoined
to the soul, and body separated from it. Lucian spoke
much truth in jest, when he said that part of Hercules
which proceeded from Alcmena perished, that from
Jupiter remained immortal. Thus Socrates was content
that his friends should bury his body, so they
would not think they buried Socrates; and, regarding
only his immortal part, was indifferent to be burnt or
buried. From such considerations, Diogenes might
contemn sepulture, and, being satisfied that the soul
could not perish, grow careless of corporal interment.
The Stoicks, who thought the souls of wise men had
their habitation about the moon, might make slight
account of subterraneous deposition; whereas the
Pythagoreans and transcorporating philosophers, who
were to be often buried, held great care of their interment.
And the Platonicks rejected not a due care of
the grave, though they put their ashes to unreasonable
expectations, in their tedious term of return and long
set revolution.</p>

<p>Men have lost their reason in nothing so much as
their religion, wherein stones and clouts make martyrs;
and, since the religion of one seems madness unto
another, to afford an account or rational of old rites
requires no rigid reader. That they kindled the pyre
aversely, or turning their face from it, was an handsome
symbol of unwilling ministration. That they washed
their bones with wine and milk; that the mother
wrapped them in linen, and dried them in her bosom,
the first fostering part and place of their nourishment;
that they opened their eyes toward heaven before they
kindled the fire, as the place of their hopes or original,
were no improper ceremonies. Their last valediction,<a name="FNanchor_LXIV._64" id="FNanchor_LXIV._64"></a><a href="#Footnote_LXIV._64" class="fnanchor">[LXIV.]</a>
thrice uttered by the attendants, was also very solemn,
and somewhat answered by Christians, who thought it
too little, if they threw not the earth thrice upon the
interred body. That, in strewing their tombs, the
Romans affected the rose; the Greeks amaranthus and
myrtle: that the funeral pyre consisted of sweet fuel,
cypress, fir, larix, yew, and trees perpetually verdant,
lay silent expressions of their surviving hopes. Wherein
Christians, who deck their coffins with bays, have found
a more elegant emblem; for that it, seeming dead, will
restore itself from the root, and its dry and exsuccous
leaves resume their verdure again; which, if we mistake
not, we have also observed in furze. Whether the
planting of yew in churchyards hold not its original
from ancient funeral rites, or as an emblem of resurrection,
from its perpetual verdure, may also admit
conjecture.</p>

<p>They made use of musick to excite or quiet the
affections of their friends, according to different harmonies.
But the secret and symbolical hint was the
harmonical nature of the soul; which, delivered from
the body, went again to enjoy the primitive harmony
of heaven, from whence it first descended; which,
according to its progress traced by antiquity, came
down by Cancer, and ascended by Capricornus.</p>

<p>They burnt not children before their teeth appeared,
as apprehending their bodies too tender a morsel for
fire, and that their gristly bones would scarce leave
separable relicks after the pyral combustion. That they
kindled not fire in their houses for some days after was
a strict memorial of the late afflicting fire. And mourning
without hope, they had an happy fraud against
excessive lamentation, by a common opinion that deep
sorrows disturb their ghosts.<a name="FNanchor_LXV._65" id="FNanchor_LXV._65"></a><a href="#Footnote_LXV._65" class="fnanchor">[LXV.]</a></p>

<p>That they buried their dead on their backs, or in a
supine position, seems agreeable unto profound sleep,
and common posture of dying; contrary to the most
natural way of birth; nor unlike our pendulous
posture, in the doubtful state of the womb. Diogenes
was singular, who preferred a prone situation in
the grave; and some Christians<a name="FNanchor_LXVI._66" id="FNanchor_LXVI._66"></a><a href="#Footnote_LXVI._66" class="fnanchor">[LXVI.]</a> like neither, who
decline the figure of rest, and make choice of an
erect posture.</p>

<p>That they carried them out of the world with their
feet forward, not inconsonant unto reason, as contrary
unto the native posture of man, and his production first
into it; and also agreeable unto their opinions, while
they bid adieu unto the world, not to look again upon
it; whereas Mahometans who think to return to a
delightful life again, are carried forth with their heads
forward, and looking toward their houses.</p>

<p>They closed their eyes, as parts which first die, or
first discover the sad effects of death. But their iterated
clamations to excitate their dying or dead friends, or
revoke them unto life again, was a vanity of affection;
as not presumably ignorant of the critical tests of death,
by apposition of feathers, glasses, and reflection of
figures, which dead eyes represent not: which, however
not strictly verifiable in fresh and warm <i>cadavers</i>,
could hardly elude the test, in corpses of four or five
days.</p>

<p>That they sucked in the last breath of their expiring
friends, was surely a practice of no medical institution,
but a loose opinion that the soul passed out that way,
and a fondness of affection, from some Pythagorical
foundation, that the spirit of one body passed into
another, which they wished might be their own.</p>

<p>That they poured oil upon the pyre, was a tolerable
practice, while the intention rested in facilitating the
ascension. But to place good omens in the quick and
speedy burning, to sacrifice unto the winds for a
despatch in this office, was a low form of superstition.</p>

<p>The archimime, or jester, attending the funeral train,
and imitating the speeches, gesture, and manners of the
deceased, was too light for such solemnities, contradicting
their funeral orations and doleful rites of the
grave.</p>

<p>That they buried a piece of money with them as a fee
of the Elysian ferryman, was a practice full of folly.
But the ancient custom of placing coins in considerable
urns, and the present practice of burying medals in the
noble foundations of Europe, are laudable ways of historical
discoveries, in actions, persons, chronologies;
and posterity will applaud them.</p>

<p>We examine not the old laws of sepulture, exempting
certain persons from burial or burning. But hereby we
apprehend that these were not the bones of persons
planet-struck or burnt with fire from heaven; no relicks
of traitors to their country, self-killers, or sacrilegious
malefactors; persons in old apprehension unworthy of the
earth; condemned unto the Tartarus of hell, and bottomless
pit of Pluto, from whence there was no redemption.</p>

<p>Nor were only many customs questionable in order
to their obsequies, but also sundry practices, fictions,
and conceptions, discordant or obscure, of their state
and future beings. Whether unto eight or ten bodies
of men to add one of a woman, as being more inflammable
and unctuously constituted for the better
pyral combustion, were any rational practice; or
whether the complaint of Periander’s wife be tolerable,
that wanting her funeral burning, she suffered
intolerable cold in hell, according to the constitution
of the infernal house of Pluto, wherein cold makes a
great part of their tortures; it cannot pass without
some question.</p>

<p>Why the female ghosts appear unto Ulysses, before
the heroes and masculine spirits,&mdash;why the Psyche or
soul of Tiresias is of the masculine gender, who, being
blind on earth, sees more than all the rest in hell; why
the funeral suppers consisted of eggs, beans, smallage,
and lettuce, since the dead are made to eat asphodels
about the Elysian meadows:&mdash;why, since there is no
sacrifice acceptable, nor any propitiation for the covenant
of the grave, men set up the deity of Morta, and
fruitlessly adored divinities without ears, it cannot
escape some doubt.</p>

<p>The dead seem all alive in the human Hades of
Homer, yet cannot well speak, prophecy, or know the
living, except they drink blood, wherein is the life of
man. And therefore the souls of Penelope’s paramours,
conducted by Mercury, chirped like bats, and those
which followed Hercules, made a noise but like a flock
of birds.</p>

<p>The departed spirits know things past and to come;
yet are ignorant of things present. Agamemnon foretells
what should happen unto Ulysses; yet ignorantly
inquires what is become of his own son. The ghosts
are afraid of swords in Homer; yet Sibylla tells Æneas
in Virgil, the thin habit of spirits was beyond the force
of weapons. The spirits put off their malice with their
bodies, and Cæsar and Pompey accord in Latin hell; yet
Ajax, in Homer, endures not a conference with Ulysses;
and Deiphobus appears all mangled in Virgil’s ghosts,
yet we meet with perfect shadows among the wounded
ghosts of Homer.</p>

<p>Since Charon in Lucian applauds his condition among
the dead, whether it be handsomely said of Achilles,
that living contemner of death, that he had rather be a
ploughman’s servant, than emperor of the dead? How
Hercules his soul is in hell, and yet in heaven; and
Julius his soul in a star, yet seen by Æneas in hell?&mdash;except
the ghosts were but images and shadows of the
soul, received in higher mansions, according to the
ancient division of body, soul, and image, or <i>simulachrum</i>
of them both. The particulars of future beings must
needs be dark unto ancient theories, which Christian
philosophy yet determines but in a cloud of opinions.
A dialogue between two infants in the womb concerning
the state of this world, might handsomely illustrate
our ignorance of the next, whereof methinks we
yet discourse in Pluto’s den, and are but embryo
philosophers.</p>

<p>Pythagoras escapes in the fabulous hell of Dante,<a name="FNanchor_LXVII._67" id="FNanchor_LXVII._67"></a><a href="#Footnote_LXVII._67" class="fnanchor">[LXVII.]</a>
among that swarm of philosophers, wherein, whilst we
meet with Plato and Socrates, Cato is to be found in no
lower place than purgatory. Among all the set,
Epicurus is most considerable, whom men make honest
without an Elysium, who contemned life without encouragement
of immortality, and making nothing after
death, yet made nothing of the king of terrors.</p>

<p>Were the happiness of the next world as closely apprehended
as the felicities of this, it were a martyrdom to
live; and unto such as consider none hereafter, it must be
more than death to die, which makes us amazed at those
audacities that durst be nothing and return into their
chaos again. Certainly such spirits as could contemn
death, when they expected no better being after, would
have scorned to live, had they known any. And therefore
we applaud not the judgment of Machiavel, that
Christianity makes men cowards, or that with the confidence
of but half-dying, the despised virtues of
patience and humility have abased the spirits of men,
which Pagan principles exalted; but rather regulated
the wildness of audacities in the attempts, grounds, and
eternal sequels of death; wherein men of the boldest
spirits are often prodigiously temerarious. Nor can we
extenuate the valour of ancient martyrs, who contemned
death in the uncomfortable scene of their lives, and in
their decrepit martyrdoms did probably lose not many
months of their days, or parted with life when it was
scarce worth the living. For (beside that long time
past holds no consideration unto a slender time to come)
they had no small disadvantage from the constitution
of old age, which naturally makes men fearful, and
complexionally superannuated from the bold and
courageous thoughts of youth and fervent years. But
the contempt of death from corporal animosity, promoteth
not our felicity. They may sit in the orchestra,
and noblest seats of heaven, who have held up
shaking hands in the fire, and humanly contended
for glory.</p>

<p>Meanwhile Epicurus lies deep in Dante’s hell, wherein
we meet with tombs enclosing souls which denied
their immortalities. But whether the virtuous heathen,
who lived better than he spake, or erring in the principles
of himself, yet lived above philosophers of more
specious maxims, lie so deep as he is placed, at least so
low as not to rise against Christians, who believing or
knowing that truth, have lastingly denied it in their
practice and conversation&mdash;were a query too sad to
insist on.</p>

<p>But all or most apprehensions rested in opinions of
some future being, which, ignorantly or coldly believed,
begat those perverted conceptions, ceremonies, sayings,
which Christians pity or laugh at. Happy are they
which live not in that disadvantage of time, when men
could say little for futurity, but from reason: whereby
the noblest minds fell often upon doubtful deaths, and
melancholy dissolutions. With these hopes, Socrates
warmed his doubtful spirits against that cold potion;
and Cato, before he durst give the fatal stroke, spent part
of the night in reading the Immortality of Plato, thereby
confirming his wavering hand unto the animosity of
that attempt.</p>

<p>It is the heaviest stone that melancholy can throw at
a man, to tell him he is at the end of his nature; or
that there is no further state to come, unto which
this seems progressional, and otherwise made in vain.
Without this accomplishment, the natural expectation
and desire of such a state, were but a fallacy in nature;
unsatisfied considerators would quarrel the justice of
their constitutions, and rest content that Adam had
fallen lower; whereby, by knowing no other original,
and deeper ignorance of themselves, they might have
enjoyed the happiness of inferior creatures, who in
tranquillity possess their constitutions, as having not
the apprehension to deplore their own natures, and,
being framed below the circumference of these hopes,
or cognition of better being, the wisdom of God hath
necessitated their contentment: but the superior ingredient
and obscured part of ourselves, whereto all
present felicities afford no resting contentment, will be
able at last to tell us, we are more than our present
selves, and evacuate such hopes in the fruition of their
own accomplishments.</p>


<div class="chapter">

<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER V.</h3>

</div>

<p>Now since these dead bones have already outlasted
the living ones of Methuselah, and in a yard underground,
and thin walls of clay, outworn all the strong
and specious buildings above it; and quietly rested
under the drums and tramplings of three conquests:
what prince can promise such diuturnity unto his relicks,
or might not gladly say,</p>

<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza">
       <div class="verse"><i>Sic ego componi versus in ossa velim?</i><a name="FNanchor_LXVIII._68" id="FNanchor_LXVIII._68"></a><a href="#Footnote_LXVIII._68" class="fnanchor">[LXVIII.]</a></div>
</div></div></div>

<p>Time, which antiquates antiquities, and hath an art to
make dust of all things, hath yet spared these minor
monuments.</p>

<p>In vain we hope to be known by open and visible
conservatories, when to be unknown was the means of
their continuation, and obscurity their protection. If
they died by violent hands, and were thrust into their
urns, these bones become considerable, and some old
philosophers would honour them, whose souls they
conceived most pure, which were thus snatched from
their bodies, and to retain a stronger propension unto
them; whereas they weariedly left a languishing corpse
and with faint desires of re-union. If they fell by
long and aged decay, yet wrapt up in the bundle of
time, they fall into indistinction, and make but one
blot with infants. If we begin to die when we live,
and long life be but a prolongation of death, our life is
a sad composition; we live with death, and die not in
a moment. How many pulses made up the life of
Methuselah, were work for Archimedes: common
counters sum up the life of Moses his man. Our days
become considerable, like petty sums, by minute accumulations:
where numerous fractions make up but
small round numbers; and our days of a span long,
make not one little finger.<a name="FNanchor_LXIX._69" id="FNanchor_LXIX._69"></a><a href="#Footnote_LXIX._69" class="fnanchor">[LXIX.]</a></p>

<p>If the nearness of our last necessity brought a nearer
conformity into it, there were a happiness in hoary
hairs, and no calamity in half-senses. But the long
habit of living indisposeth us for dying; when avarice
makes us the sport of death, when even David grew
politickly cruel, and Solomon could hardly be said to
be the wisest of men. But many are too early old, and
before the date of age. Adversity stretcheth our days,
misery makes Alcmena’s nights,<a name="FNanchor_LXX._70" id="FNanchor_LXX._70"></a><a href="#Footnote_LXX._70" class="fnanchor">[LXX.]</a> and time hath no
wings unto it. But the most tedious being is that which
can unwish itself, content to be nothing, or never to
have been, which was beyond the malcontent of Job,
who cursed not the day of his life, but his nativity; content
to have so far been, as to have a title to future being,
although he had lived here but in an hidden state of
life, and as it were an abortion.</p>

<p>What song the Syrens sang, or what name Achilles
assumed when he hid himself among women, though
puzzling questions,<a name="FNanchor_LXXI._71" id="FNanchor_LXXI._71"></a><a href="#Footnote_LXXI._71" class="fnanchor">[LXXI.]</a> are not beyond all conjecture. What
time the persons of these ossuaries entered the famous
nations of the dead, 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 relicks, they
had not so grossly erred in the art of perpetuation. But
to subsist in bones, and be but pyramidally extant, is a
fallacy 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 for
ever, had encouragement for ambition; and, finding no
<i>atropos</i> unto the immortality of their names, were never
dampt 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 outlasted their monuments
and mechanical preservations. But in this latter scene
of time, we cannot expect such mummies unto our
memories, when ambition may fear the prophecy of
Elias,<a name="FNanchor_LXXII._72" id="FNanchor_LXXII._72"></a><a href="#Footnote_LXXII._72" class="fnanchor">[LXXII.]</a> and Charles the Fifth can never hope to live
within two Methuselahs of Hector.<a name="FNanchor_LXXIII._73" id="FNanchor_LXXIII._73"></a><a href="#Footnote_LXXIII._73" class="fnanchor">[LXXIII.]</a></p>

<p>And therefore, restless inquietude for the diuturnity
of our memories unto the present considerations seems
a vanity almost out of date, and 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 unto the other. ’Tis too late to be
ambitious. The great mutations of 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 expectations 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,
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 pyramids pillars
of snow, and all that’s past a moment.</p>

<p>Circles and right lines limit and close all bodies, and
the mortal right-lined circle<a name="FNanchor_LXXIV._74" id="FNanchor_LXXIV._74"></a><a href="#Footnote_LXXIV._74" class="fnanchor">[LXXIV.]</a> must conclude and shut
up all. 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. Gravestones
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, 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 perpetuity, even by everlasting languages.</p>

<p>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;<a name="FNanchor_LXXV._75" id="FNanchor_LXXV._75"></a><a href="#Footnote_LXXV._75" class="fnanchor">[LXXV.]</a> disparaging
his horoscopal inclination and judgment of himself.
Who cares to subsist like Hippocrates’s patients, or
Achilles’s horses in Homer, under naked nominations,
without deserts and noble acts, which are the balsam
of our memories, the <i>entelechia</i> and soul of our subsistences?
To be nameless in worthy deeds, exceeds
an infamous history. The Canaanitish woman lives
more happily without a name, than Herodias with
one. And who had not rather have been the good
thief, than Pilate?</p>

<p>But the iniquity of oblivion blindly scattereth her
poppy, and deals with the memory of men without
distinction to merit of perpetuity. Who can but
pity 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, confounded that of himself. In vain we 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
favour 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.</p>

<p>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 arithmetick, which scarce stands
one moment. And since death must be the <i>Lucina</i>
of life, and even Pagans<a name="FNanchor_108" id="FNanchor_108"></a><a href="#Footnote_108" class="fnanchor">[108]</a> 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 in itself, bids us hope
no long duration;&mdash;diuturnity is a dream and folly
of expectation.</p>

<p>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 callosities; miseries are slippery,
or fall like snow upon us, which notwithstanding
is no unhappy stupidity. To be ignorant of evils to
come, and forgetful of evils past, is a merciful provision
in nature, whereby we digest the mixture of our few
and evil days, and, our delivered senses not relapsing
into cutting remembrances, our sorrows are not kept
raw by the edge of repetitions. A great part of antiquity
contented their hopes of subsistency with a transmigration
of their souls,&mdash;a good way to continue their memories,
while having the advantage of plural successions,
they could not but act something remarkable in such
variety of beings, and enjoying the fame of their passed
selves, make accumulation of glory unto their last durations.
Others, rather than be lost in the uncomfortable
night of nothing, were content to recede into the common
being, and make one particle of the public soul of all
things, which was no more than to return into their unknown
and divine original again. Egyptian ingenuity
was more unsatisfied, contriving their bodies in sweet
consistences, to attend the return of their souls. But
all is vanity, feeding the wind, and folly. Egyptian
mummies, which Cambyses or time hath spared,
avarice now consumeth. Mummy is become merchandise,
Mizraim, cures wounds, and Pharaoh is sold
for balsams.</p>

<p>In vain do individuals hope for immortality, or any
patent from oblivion, in preservations below the moon;
men have been deceived even in their flatteries, above
the sun, and studied conceits to perpetuate their names
in heaven. The various cosmography of that part hath
already varied the names of contrived constellations;
Nimrod is lost in Orion, and Osyris in the Dog-star.
While we look for incorruption in the heavens, we find
that they are but like the earth;&mdash;durable in their main
bodies, alterable in their parts; whereof, beside comets
and new stars, perspectives begin to tell tales, and the
spots that wander about the sun, with Phaeton’s favour,
would make clear conviction.</p>

<p>There is nothing strictly immortal, but immortality.
Whatever hath no beginning, may be confident of no
end;&mdash;all others have a dependent being and within
the reach of destruction;&mdash;which is the peculiar of
that necessary essence that cannot destroy itself;&mdash;and
the highest strain of omnipotency, to be so powerfully
constituted as not to suffer even from the power of
itself. But the sufficiency of Christian immortality
frustrates all earthly glory, and the quality of either
state after death, makes a folly of posthumous memory.
God who can only destroy our souls, and hath assured
our resurrection, either of our bodies or names hath
directly promised no duration. Wherein there is so
much of chance, that the boldest expectants have found
unhappy frustration; and to hold long subsistence,
seems but a scape in oblivion. But man is a noble
animal, splendid in ashes, and pompous in the grave,
solemnizing nativities and deaths with equal lustre,
nor omitting ceremonies of bravery in the infamy of
his nature.</p>

<p>Life is a pure flame, and we live by an invisible sun
within us. A small fire sufficeth for life, great flames
seemed too little after death, while men vainly affected
precious pyres, and to burn like Sardanapalus; but
the wisdom of funeral laws found the folly of prodigal
blazes and reduced undoing fires unto the rule of sober
obsequies, wherein few could be so mean as not to provide
wood, pitch, a mourner, and an urn.</p>

<p>Five languages<a name="FNanchor_109" id="FNanchor_109"></a><a href="#Footnote_109" class="fnanchor">[109]</a> secured not the epitaph of Gordianus.
The man of God lives longer without a tomb than any
by one, invisibly interred by angels, and adjudged to
obscurity, though not without some marks directing
human discovery. Enoch and Elias, without either
tomb or burial, in an anomalous state of being, are
the great examples of perpetuity, in their long and
living memory, in strict account being still on this
side death, and having a late part yet to act upon this
stage of earth. If in the decretory term of the world
we shall not all die but be changed, according to received
translation, the last day will make but few graves;
at least quick resurrections will anticipate lasting
sepultures. Some graves will be opened before they
be quite closed, and Lazarus be no wonder. When many
that feared to die, shall groan that they can die but once,
the dismal state is the second and living death, when
life puts despair on the damned; when men shall wish
the coverings of mountains, not of monuments, and
annihilations shall be courted.</p>

<p>While some have studied monuments, others have
studiously declined them, and some have been so vainly
boisterous, that they durst not acknowledge their graves;
wherein Alaricus seems most subtle, who had a river
turned to hide his bones at the bottom. Even Sylla,
that thought himself safe in his urn, could not prevent
revenging tongues, and stones thrown at his monument.
Happy are they whom privacy makes innocent, who
deal so with men in this world, that they are not
afraid to meet them in the next; who, when they die,
make no commotion among the dead, and are not
touched with that poetical taunt of Isaiah.<a name="FNanchor_LXXVI._76" id="FNanchor_LXXVI._76"></a><a href="#Footnote_LXXVI._76" class="fnanchor">[LXXVI.]</a></p>

<p>Pyramids, arches, obelisks, were but the irregularities
of vain-glory, and wild enormities of ancient magnanimity.
But the most magnanimous resolution rests in
the Christian religion, which trampleth upon pride and
sits on the neck of ambition, humbly pursuing that
infallible perpetuity, unto which all others must
diminish their diameters, and be poorly seen in angles
of contingency.<a name="FNanchor_LXXVII._77" id="FNanchor_LXXVII._77"></a><a href="#Footnote_LXXVII._77" class="fnanchor">[LXXVII.]</a></p>

<p>Pious spirits who passed their days in raptures of
futurity, made little more of this world, than the world
that was before it, while they lay obscure in the chaos
of pre-ordination, and night of their fore-beings. And
if any have been so happy as truly to understand
Christian annihilation, ecstasies, exolution, liquefaction,
transformation, the kiss of the spouse, gustation of
God, and ingression into the divine shadow, they have
already had an handsome anticipation of heaven; the
glory of the world is surely over, and the earth in ashes
unto them.</p>

<p>To subsist in lasting monuments, to live in their productions,
to exist in their names and predicament of
chimeras, was large satisfaction unto old expectations,
and made one part of their Elysiums. But all this
is nothing in the metaphysicks of true belief. To live
indeed, is to be again ourselves, which being not only an
hope, but an evidence in noble believers, ’tis all one to
lie in St Innocent’s<a name="FNanchor_LXXVIII._78" id="FNanchor_LXXVIII._78"></a><a href="#Footnote_LXXVIII._78" class="fnanchor">[LXXVIII.]</a> church-yard as in the sands of
Egypt. Ready to be anything, in the ecstasy of
being ever, and as content with six foot as the <i>moles</i>
of Adrianus.<a name="FNanchor_LXXIX._79" id="FNanchor_LXXIX._79"></a><a href="#Footnote_LXXIX._79" class="fnanchor">[LXXIX.]</a></p>

<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza">
       <div class="verse">&mdash;&mdash;“<i>Tabésne cadavera solvat,</i></div>
       <div class="verse"><i>An rogus, haud refert.</i>”&mdash;<span class="smcap">Lucan.</span> viii. 809.</div>
</div></div></div>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 175px;">
<img src="images/zill_182.png" width="175" height="150" alt="decoration" />
</div>

<div class="chapter">
<a id="LETTER_TO_A_FRIEND"></a>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;">
<img src="images/zill_183_1.png" width="250" height="51" alt="decoration" />
</div>

<h2 class="nobreak">A LETTER TO A FRIEND,<br />

<span class="small">UPON OCCASION OF THE DEATH OF HIS INTIMATE FRIEND.</span></h2>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 125px;">
<img src="images/zill_183_2.png" width="125" height="29" alt="decoration" />
</div>
</div>

<div class="chapter">

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<img src="images/zill_185_1.png" width="450" height="102" alt="decoration" />
</div>

<p class="large p2 center">LETTER TO A FRIEND.</p>

</div>

<div>
  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/zill_185_2.png" width="70" height="69" alt=""/>
</div>

<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">GIVE</span> me leave to wonder that news of this nature
should have such heavy wings that you should
hear so little concerning your dearest friend,
and that I must make that unwilling repetition to tell
you “<i>ad portam rigidos calces extendit</i>,” that he is dead
and buried, and by this time no puny among the mighty
nations of the dead; for though he left this world not
very many days past, yet every hour you know largely
addeth unto that dark society; and considering the
incessant mortality of mankind, you cannot conceive
there dieth in the whole earth so few as a thousand an
hour.</p>

<p>Although at this distance you had no early account
or particular of his death, yet your affection may cease
to wonder that you had not some secret sense or intimation
thereof by dreams, thoughtful whisperings, mercurisms,
airy nuncios or sympathetical insinuations,
which many seem to have had at the death of their
dearest friends: for since we find in that famous story,
that spirits themselves were fain to tell their fellows
at a distance that the great Antonio was dead, we have
a sufficient excuse for our ignorance in such particulars,
and must rest content with the common road, and Appian
way of knowledge by information. Though the
uncertainty of the end of this world hath confounded
all human predictions; yet they who shall live to see
the sun and moon darkened, and the stars to fall from
heaven, will hardly be deceived in the advent of the
last day; and therefore strange it is, that the common
fallacy of consumptive persons who feel not themselves
dying, and therefore still hope to live, should also reach
their friends in perfect health and judgment;&mdash;that you
should be so little acquainted with Plautus’s sick complexion,
or that almost an Hippocratical face should
not alarum you to higher fears, or rather despair, of
his continuation in such an emaciated state, wherein
medical predictions fail not, as sometimes in acute diseases,
and wherein ’tis as dangerous to be sentenced by
a physician as a judge.</p>

<p>Upon my first visit I was bold to tell them who had
not let fall all hopes of his recovery, that in my sad
opinion he was not like to behold a grasshopper,<a name="FNanchor_110" id="FNanchor_110"></a><a href="#Footnote_110" class="fnanchor">[110]</a> much
less to pluck another fig; and in no long time after
seemed to discover that odd mortal symptom in him
not mentioned by Hippocrates, that is, to lose his own
face, and look like some of his near relations; for he
maintained not his proper countenance, but looked like
his uncle, the lines of whose face lay deep and invisible
in his healthful visage before: for as from our beginning
we run through variety of looks, before we come
to consistent and settled faces; so before our end, by
sick and languishing alterations, we put on new visages:
and in our retreat to earth, may fall upon such looks
which from community of seminal originals were before
latent in us.</p>

<p>He was fruitlessly put in hope of advantage by change
of air, and imbibing the pure aerial nitre of these parts;
and therefore, being so far spent, he quickly found Sardinia
in Tivoli,<a name="FNanchor_LXXX._80" id="FNanchor_LXXX._80"></a><a href="#Footnote_LXXX._80" class="fnanchor">[LXXX.]</a> and the most healthful air of little
effect, where death had set her broad arrow;<a name="FNanchor_LXXXI._81" id="FNanchor_LXXXI._81"></a><a href="#Footnote_LXXXI._81" class="fnanchor">[LXXXI.]</a> for he
lived not unto the middle of May, and confirmed the
observation of Hippocrates of that mortal time of the
year when the leaves of the fig-tree resemble a daw’s
claw. He is happily seated who lives in places whose
air, earth, and water, promote not the infirmities of his
weaker parts, or is early removed into regions that
correct them. He that is tabidly<a name="FNanchor_111" id="FNanchor_111"></a><a href="#Footnote_111" class="fnanchor">[111]</a> inclined, were unwise
to pass his days in Portugal: cholical persons will find
little comfort in Austria or Vienna: he that is weak-legged
must not be in love with Rome, nor an infirm
head with Venice or Paris. Death hath not only particular
stars in heaven, but malevolent places on earth,
which single out our infirmities, and strike at our
weaker parts; in which concern, passager and migrant
birds have the great advantages, who are naturally
constituted for distant habitations, whom no seas nor
places limit, but in their appointed seasons will visit
us from Greenland and Mount Atlas, and, as some think,
even from the Antipodes.<a name="FNanchor_LXXXII._82" id="FNanchor_LXXXII._82"></a><a href="#Footnote_LXXXII._82" class="fnanchor">[LXXXII.]</a></p>

<p>Though we could not have his life, yet we missed not
our desires in his soft departure, which was scarce an
expiration; and his end not unlike his beginning, when
the salient point scarce affords a sensible motion, and
his departure so like unto sleep, that he scarce needed
the civil ceremony of closing his eyes; contrary unto the
common way, wherein death draws up, sleep lets fall
the eyelids. With what strife and pains we came into
the world we know not; but ’tis commonly no easy
matter to get out of it: yet if it could be made out,
that such who have easy nativities have commonly hard
deaths, and contrarily; his departure was so easy, that
we might justly suspect his birth was of another nature,
and that some Juno sat cross-legged at his nativity.</p>

<p>Besides his soft death, the incurable state of his
disease might somewhat extenuate your sorrow, who
know that monsters but seldom happen, miracles more
rarely in physick.<a name="FNanchor_LXXXIII._83" id="FNanchor_LXXXIII._83"></a><a href="#Footnote_LXXXIII._83" class="fnanchor">[LXXXIII.]</a> <i>Angelus Victorius</i> gives a serious
account of a consumptive, hectical, phthisical woman,
who was suddenly cured by the intercession of Ignatius.
We read not of any in Scripture who in this case applied
unto our Saviour, though some may be contained in
that large expression, that he went about Galilee healing
all manner of sickness and all manner of diseases.<a name="FNanchor_LXXXIV._84" id="FNanchor_LXXXIV._84"></a><a href="#Footnote_LXXXIV._84" class="fnanchor">[LXXXIV.]</a>
Amulets, spells, sigils, and incantations, practised in
other diseases, are seldom pretended in this; and we
find no sigil in the Archidoxis of Paracelsus to cure
an extreme consumption or marasmus, which, if other
diseases fail, will put a period unto long livers, and at
last makes dust of all. And therefore the Stoics could
not but think that the fiery principle would wear out
all the rest, and at last make an end of the world, which
notwithstanding without such a lingering period the
Creator may effect at his pleasure: and to make an end
of all things on earth, and our planetical system of the
world, he need but put out the sun.</p>

<p>I was not so curious to entitle the stars unto any
concern of his death, yet could not but take notice that
he died when the moon was in motion from the meridian;
at which time an old Italian long ago would persuade
me that the greatest part of men died: but herein
I confess I could never satisfy my curiosity; although
from the time of tides in places upon or near the sea,
there may be considerable deductions; and Pliny<a name="FNanchor_LXXXV._85" id="FNanchor_LXXXV._85"></a><a href="#Footnote_LXXXV._85" class="fnanchor">[LXXXV.]</a> hath
an odd and remarkable passage concerning the death of
men and animals upon the recess or ebb of the sea.
However, certain it is, he died in the dead and deep
part of the night, when Nox might be most apprehensibly
said to be the daughter of Chaos, the mother of
sleep and death, according to old genealogy; and so
went out of this world about that hour when our blessed
Saviour entered it, and about what time many conceive
he will return again unto it. Cardan<a name="FNanchor_112" id="FNanchor_112"></a><a href="#Footnote_112" class="fnanchor">[112]</a> hath a peculiar
and no hard observation from a man’s hand to know
whether he was born in the day or night, which I confess
holdeth in my own. And Scaliger<a name="FNanchor_113" id="FNanchor_113"></a><a href="#Footnote_113" class="fnanchor">[113]</a> to that purpose
hath another from the tip of the ear:<a name="FNanchor_LXXXVI._86" id="FNanchor_LXXXVI._86"></a><a href="#Footnote_LXXXVI._86" class="fnanchor">[LXXXVI.]</a> most men are
begotten in the night, animals in the day; but whether
more persons have been born in the night or day, were
a curiosity undecidable, though more have perished by
violent deaths in the day; yet in natural dissolutions
both times may hold an indifferency, at least but contingent
inequality. The whole course of time runs out
in the nativity and death of things; which whether
they happen by succession or coincidence, are best computed
by the natural, not artificial day.</p>


<p>That Charles the Fifth<a name="FNanchor_114" id="FNanchor_114"></a><a href="#Footnote_114" class="fnanchor">[114]</a> was crowned upon the day
of his nativity, it being in his own power so to order
it, makes no singular animadversion: but that he
should also take King Francis<a name="FNanchor_115" id="FNanchor_115"></a><a href="#Footnote_115" class="fnanchor">[115]</a> prisoner upon that
day, was an unexpected coincidence, which made the
same remarkable. Antipater, who had an anniversary
feast every year upon his birth-day, needed no astrological
revolution to know what day he should die on.
When the fixed stars have made a revolution unto the
points from whence they first set out, some of the
ancients thought the world would have an end; which
was a kind of dying upon the day of its nativity. Now
the disease prevailing and swiftly advancing about the
time of his nativity, some were of opinion that he
would leave the world on the day he entered into it;
but this being a lingering disease, and creeping softly
on, nothing critical was found or expected, and he died
not before fifteen days after. Nothing is more common
with infants than to die on the day of their nativity, to
behold the worldly hours, and but the fractions thereof;
and even to perish before their nativity in the hidden
world of the womb, and before their good angel is conceived
to undertake them. But in persons who outlive
many years, and when there are no less than three
hundred and sixty-five days to determine their lives in
every year; that the first day should make the last,
that the tail of the snake should return into its mouth
precisely at that time, and they should wind up upon
the day of their nativity, is indeed a remarkable
coincidence, which, though astrology hath taken witty
pains to salve, yet hath it been very wary in making
predictions of it.<a name="FNanchor_LXXXVII._87" id="FNanchor_LXXXVII._87"></a><a href="#Footnote_LXXXVII._87" class="fnanchor">[LXXXVII.]</a></p>

<p>In this consumptive condition and remarkable extenuation,
he came to be almost half himself, and left a
great part behind him, which he carried not to the
grave. And though that story of Duke John Ernestus
Mansfield<a name="FNanchor_116" id="FNanchor_116"></a><a href="#Footnote_116" class="fnanchor">[116]</a><a name="FNanchor_LXXXVIII._88" id="FNanchor_LXXXVIII._88"></a><a href="#Footnote_LXXXVIII._88" class="fnanchor">[LXXXVIII.]</a> be not so easily swallowed, that at his death
his heart was found not to be so big as a nut; yet if
the bones of a good skeleton weigh little more than
twenty pounds, his inwards and flesh remaining could
make no bouffage,<a name="FNanchor_117" id="FNanchor_117"></a><a href="#Footnote_117" class="fnanchor">[117]</a> but a light bit for the grave. I
never more lively beheld the starved characters of
Dante<a name="FNanchor_LXXXIX._89" id="FNanchor_LXXXIX._89"></a><a href="#Footnote_LXXXIX._89" class="fnanchor">[LXXXIX.]</a> in any living face; an <i>aruspex</i> might have read
a lecture upon him without exenteration, his flesh
being so consumed, that he might, in a manner, have
discerned his bowels without opening of him; so that
to be carried, <i>sexta cervice</i><a name="FNanchor_XC._90" id="FNanchor_XC._90"></a><a href="#Footnote_XC._90" class="fnanchor">[XC.]</a> to the grave, was but a
civil unnecessity; and the complements of the coffin
might outweigh the subject of it.</p>

<p><i>Omnibonus Ferrarius</i> in mortal dysenteries of children
looks for a spot behind the ear; in consumptive
diseases some eye the complexion of moles; Cardan
eagerly views the nails, some the lines of the hand, the
thenar or muscle of the thumb; some are so curious as
to observe the depth of the throat-pit, how the proportion
varieth of the small of the legs unto the calf,
or the compass of the neck unto the circumference of
the head; but all these, with many more, were so
drowned in a mortal visage, and last face of Hippocrates,
that a weak physiognomist might say at first eye, this
was a face of earth, and that <i>Morta</i><a name="FNanchor_XCI._91" id="FNanchor_XCI._91"></a><a href="#Footnote_XCI._91" class="fnanchor">[XCI.]</a> had set her hard seal
upon his temples, easily perceiving what <i>caricatura</i><a name="FNanchor_XCII._92" id="FNanchor_XCII._92"></a><a href="#Footnote_XCII._92" class="fnanchor">[XCII.]</a>
draughts death makes upon pined faces, and unto what
an unknown degree a man may live backward.</p>

<p>Though the beard be only made a distinction of sex,
and sign of masculine heat by <i>Ulmus</i>,<a name="FNanchor_XCIII._93" id="FNanchor_XCIII._93"></a><a href="#Footnote_XCIII._93" class="fnanchor">[XCIII.]</a> yet the
precocity and early growth thereof in him, was not
to be liked in reference unto long life. Lewis,
that virtuous but unfortunate king of Hungary,
who lost his life at the battle of Mohacz,<a name="FNanchor_118" id="FNanchor_118"></a><a href="#Footnote_118" class="fnanchor">[118]</a> was
said to be born without a skin, to have bearded at
fifteen, and to have shown some grey hairs about
twenty; from whence the diviners conjectured that he
would be spoiled of his kingdom, and have but a short
life; but hairs make fallible predictions, and many
temples early grey have outlived the psalmist’s period.<a name="FNanchor_XCIV._94" id="FNanchor_XCIV._94"></a><a href="#Footnote_XCIV._94" class="fnanchor">[XCIV.]</a>
Hairs which have most amused me have not been in the
face or head, but on the back, and not in men but
children, as I long ago observed in that endemial
distemper of children in Languedoc, called the <i>morgellons</i>,<a name="FNanchor_XCV._95" id="FNanchor_XCV._95"></a><a href="#Footnote_XCV._95" class="fnanchor">[XCV.]</a>
wherein they critically break out with harsh
hairs on their backs, which takes off the unquiet symptoms
of the disease, and delivers them from coughs and
convulsions.</p>

<p>The Egyptian mummies that I have seen, have had
their mouths open, and somewhat gaping, which affordeth
a good opportunity to view and observe their teeth,
wherein ’tis not easy to find any wanting or decayed;
and therefore in Egypt, where one man practised but
one operation, or the diseases but of single parts, it
must needs be a barren profession to confine unto that of
drawing of teeth, and to have been little better than tooth-drawer
unto King Pyrrhus,<a name="FNanchor_XCVI._96" id="FNanchor_XCVI._96"></a><a href="#Footnote_XCVI._96" class="fnanchor">[XCVI.]</a> who had but two in his head.</p>

<p>How the banyans of India maintain the integrity of
those parts, I find not particularly observed; who notwithstanding
have an advantage of their preservation by
abstaining from all flesh, and employing their teeth in
such food unto which they may seem at first framed,
from their figure and conformation; but sharp and
corroding rheums had so early mouldered these rocks
and hardest parts of his fabric, that a man might well
conceive that his years were never like to double or
twice tell over his teeth.<a name="FNanchor_XCVII._97" id="FNanchor_XCVII._97"></a><a href="#Footnote_XCVII._97" class="fnanchor">[XCVII.]</a> Corruption had dealt more
severely with them than sepulchral fires and smart
flames with those of burnt bodies of old; for in the
burnt fragments of urns which I have inquired into,
although I seem to find few incisors or shearers, yet the
dog teeth and grinders do notably resist those fires.</p>

<p>In the years of his childhood he had languished
under the disease of his country, the rickets; after
which, notwithstanding many have become strong and
active men; but whether any have attained unto very
great years, the disease is scarce so old as to afford good
observation. Whether the children of the English
plantations be subject unto the same infirmity, may be
worth the observing. Whether lameness and halting do
still increase among the inhabitants of Rovigno in Istria,
I know not; yet scarce twenty years ago Monsieur du
Loyr observed that a third part of that people halted;
but too certain it is, that the rickets increaseth among
us; the small-pox grows more pernicious than the great;
the king’s purse knows that the king’s evil grows more
common. Quartan agues are become no strangers in
Ireland; more common and mortal in England; and
though the ancients gave that disease<a name="FNanchor_XCVIII._98" id="FNanchor_XCVIII._98"></a><a href="#Footnote_XCVIII._98" class="fnanchor">[XCVIII.]</a> very good words,
yet now that bell<a name="FNanchor_XCIX._99" id="FNanchor_XCIX._99"></a><a href="#Footnote_XCIX._99" class="fnanchor">[XCIX.]</a> makes no strange sound which rings
out for the effects thereof.</p>

<p>Some think there were few consumptions in the old
world, when men lived much upon milk; and that the
ancient inhabitants of this island were less troubled
with coughs when they went naked and slept in caves
and woods, than men now in chambers and feather-beds.
Plato will tell us, that there was no such disease as a
catarrh in Homer’s time, and that it was but new in
Greece in his age. Polydore Virgil delivereth that
pleurisies were rare in England, who lived but in the
days of Henry the Eighth. Some will allow no diseases
to be new, others think that many old ones are ceased:
and that such which are esteemed new, will have but
their time: however, the mercy of God hath scattered
the great heap of diseases, and not loaded any one
country with all: some may be new in one country
which have been old in another. New discoveries of
the earth discover new diseases: for besides the common
swarm, there are endemial and local infirmities proper
unto certain regions, which in the whole earth make no
small number: and if Asia, Africa, and America, should
bring in their list, Pandora’s box would swell, and there
must be a strange pathology.</p>

<p>Most men expected to find a consumed kell,<a name="FNanchor_119" id="FNanchor_119"></a><a href="#Footnote_119" class="fnanchor">[119]</a> empty
and bladder-like guts, livid and marbled lungs, and a
withered pericardium in this exsuccous corpse: but some
seemed too much to wonder that two lobes of his lungs
adhered unto his side; for the like I have often found
in bodies of no suspected consumptions or difficulty of
respiration. And the same more often happeneth in
men than other animals: and some think in women
than in men: but the most remarkable I have met
with, was in a man, after a cough of almost fifty years,
in whom all the lobes adhered unto the pleura, and
each lobe unto another; who having also been much
troubled with the gout, brake the rule of Cardan,<a name="FNanchor_C._100" id="FNanchor_C._100"></a><a href="#Footnote_C._100" class="fnanchor">[C.]</a> and
died of the stone in the bladder. Aristotle makes a
query, why some animals cough, as man; some not, as
oxen. If coughing be taken as it consisteth of a
natural and voluntary motion, including expectoration
and spitting out, it may be as proper unto man as
bleeding at the nose; otherwise we find that Vegetius
and rural writers have not left so many medicines in vain
against the coughs of cattle; and men who perish by
coughs die the death of sheep, cats, and lions: and
though birds have no midriff, yet we meet with divers
remedies in Arrianus against the coughs of hawks.
And though it might be thought that all animals who
have lungs do cough; yet in cataceous fishes, who have
large and strong lungs, the same is not observed; nor
yet in oviparous quadrupeds: and in the greatest
thereof, the crocodile, although we read much of their
tears, we find nothing of that motion.</p>

<p>From the thoughts of sleep, when the soul was conceived
nearest unto divinity, the ancients erected an
art of divination, wherein while they too widely expatiated
in loose and in consequent conjectures, Hippocrates<a name="FNanchor_CI._101" id="FNanchor_CI._101"></a><a href="#Footnote_CI._101" class="fnanchor">[CI.]</a>
wisely considered dreams as they presaged
alterations in the body, and so afforded hints toward
the preservation of health, and prevention of diseases;
and therein was so serious as to advise alteration of
diet, exercise, sweating, bathing, and vomiting; and
also so religious as to order prayers and supplications
unto respective deities, in good dreams unto Sol,
Jupiter cœlestis, Jupiter opulentus, Minerva, Mercurius,
and Apollo; in bad, unto Tellus and the
heroes.</p>

<p>And therefore I could not but notice how his female
friends were irrationally curious so strictly to examine
his dreams, and in this low state to hope for the
phantasms of health. He was now past the healthful
dreams of the sun, moon, and stars, in their clarity and
proper courses. ’Twas too late to dream of flying, of
limpid fountains, smooth waters, white vestments, and
fruitful green trees, which are the visions of healthful
sleeps, and at good distance from the grave.</p>

<p>And they were also too deeply dejected that he should
dream of his dead friends, inconsequently divining, that
he would not be long from them; for strange it was not
that he should sometimes dream of the dead, whose
thoughts run always upon death; beside, to dream of
the dead, so they appear not in dark habits, and take
nothing away from us, in Hippocrates’ sense was of good
signification: for we live by the dead, and everything
is or must be so before it becomes our nourishment.
And Cardan, who dreamed that he discoursed with his
dead father in the moon, made thereof no mortal interpretation;
and even to dream that we are dead, was
having a signification of liberty, vacuity from cares,
exemption and freedom from troubles unknown unto
the dead.</p>

<p>Some dreams I confess may admit of easy and feminine
exposition; he who dreamed that he could not see
his right shoulder, might easily fear to lose the sight of
his right eye; he that before a journey dreamed that
his feet were cut off, had a plain warning not to undertake
his intended journey. But why to dream of lettuce
should presage some ensuing disease, why to eat figs
should signify foolish talk, why to eat eggs great trouble,
and to dream of blindness should be so highly commended,
according to the oneirocritical verses of Astrampsychus
and Nicephorus, I shall leave unto your
divination.</p>

<p>He was willing to quit the world alone and altogether,
leaving no earnest behind him for corruption or after-grave,
having small content in that common satisfaction
to survive or live in another, but amply satisfied that
his disease should die with himself, nor revive in a posterity
to puzzle physic, and make sad mementoes of their
parent hereditary. Leprosy awakes not sometimes before
forty, the gout and stone often later; but consumptive
and tabid<a name="FNanchor_CII._102" id="FNanchor_CII._102"></a><a href="#Footnote_CII._102" class="fnanchor">[CII.]</a> roots sprout more early, and at the fairest
make seventeen years of our life doubtful before that
age. They that enter the world with original diseases
as well as sin, have not only common mortality but sick
traductions to destroy them, make commonly short
courses, and live not at length but in figures; so that a
sound Cæsarean nativity<a name="FNanchor_CIII._103" id="FNanchor_CIII._103"></a><a href="#Footnote_CIII._103" class="fnanchor">[CIII.]</a> may outlast a natural birth,
and a knife may sometimes make way for a more lasting
fruit than a midwife; which makes so few infants
now able to endure the old test of the river,<a name="FNanchor_CIV._104" id="FNanchor_CIV._104"></a><a href="#Footnote_CIV._104" class="fnanchor">[CIV.]</a> and many
to have feeble children who could scarce have been married
at Sparta, and those provident states who studied
strong and healthful generations; which happen but
contingently in mere pecuniary matches or marriages
made by the candle, wherein notwithstanding there is
little redress to be hoped from an astrologer or a lawyer,
and a good discerning physician were like to prove the
most successful counsellor.</p>

<p>Julius Scaliger, who in a sleepless fit of the gout could
make two hundred verses in a night, would have but
five<a name="FNanchor_CV._105" id="FNanchor_CV._105"></a><a href="#Footnote_CV._105" class="fnanchor">[CV.]</a> plain words upon his tomb. And this serious person,
though no minor wit, left the poetry of his epitaph
unto others; either unwilling to commend himself, or
to be judged by a distich, and perhaps considering how
unhappy great poets have been in versifying their own
epitaphs; wherein Petrarch, Dante, and Ariosto, have
so unhappily failed, that if their tombs should outlast
their works, posterity would find so little of Apollo on
them as to mistake them for Ciceronian poets.</p>

<p>In this deliberate and creeping progress unto the
grave, he was somewhat too young and of too noble a
mind, to fall upon that stupid symptom observable in
divers persons near their journey’s end, and which may
be reckoned among the mortal symptoms of their last
disease; that is, to become more narrow-minded, miserable,
and tenacious, unready to part with anything,
when they are ready to part with all, and afraid to want
when they have no time to spend; meanwhile physicians,
who know that many are mad but in a single
depraved imagination, and one prevalent decipiency;
and that beside and out of such single deliriums a man
may meet with sober actions and good sense in bedlam;
cannot but smile to see the heirs and concerned relations
gratulating themselves on the sober departure of their
friends; and though they behold such mad covetous
passages, content to think they die in good understanding,
and in their sober senses.</p>

<p>Avarice, which is not only infidelity, but idolatry,
either from covetous progeny or questuary<a name="FNanchor_120" id="FNanchor_120"></a><a href="#Footnote_120" class="fnanchor">[120]</a> education,
had no root in his breast, who made good works the
expression of his faith, and was big with desires unto
public and lasting charities; and surely where good
wishes and charitable intentions exceed abilities, theorical
beneficency may be more than a dream. They build
not castles in the air who would build churches on
earth; and though they leave no such structures here,
may lay good foundations in heaven. In brief, his life
and death were such, that I could not blame them who
wished the like, and almost to have been himself;
almost, I say; for though we may wish the prosperous
appurtenances of others, or to be another in his happy
accidents, yet so intrinsical is every man unto himself,
that some doubt may be made, whether any would
exchange his being, or substantially become another
man.</p>

<p>He had wisely seen the world at home and abroad,
and thereby observed under what variety men are deluded
in the pursuit of that which is not here to be
found. And although he had no opinion of reputed
felicities below, and apprehended men widely out in the
estimate of such happiness, yet his sober contempt of the
world wrought no Democratism or Cynicism, no laughing
or snarling at it, as well understanding there are not
felicities in this world to satisfy a serious mind; and
therefore, to soften the stream of our lives, we are fain
to take in the reputed contentations of this world, to
unite with the crowd in their beatitudes, and to make
ourselves happy by consortion, opinion, and co-existimation;
for strictly to separate from received and customary
felicities, and to confine unto the rigour of
realities, were to contract the consolation of our beings
unto too uncomfortable circumscriptions.</p>

<p>Not to fear death,<a name="FNanchor_CVI._106" id="FNanchor_CVI._106"></a><a href="#Footnote_CVI._106" class="fnanchor">[CVI.]</a> nor desire it, was short of his resolution:
to be dissolved, and be with Christ, was his
dying ditty. He conceived his thread long, in no long
course of years, and when he had scarce outlived the
second life of Lazarus;<a name="FNanchor_CVII._107" id="FNanchor_CVII._107"></a><a href="#Footnote_CVII._107" class="fnanchor">[CVII.]</a> esteeming it enough to approach
the years of his Saviour, who so ordered his own human
state, as not to be old upon earth.</p>

<p>But to be content with death may be better than to
desire it; a miserable life may make us wish for death,
but a virtuous one to rest in it; which is the advantage
of those resolved Christians, who looking on death not
only as the sting, but the period and end of sin, the
horizon and isthmus between this life and a better, and
the death of this world but as a nativity of another,
do contentedly submit unto the common necessity, and
envy not Enoch or Elias.</p>

<p>Not to be content with life is the unsatisfactory state
of those who destroy themselves,<a name="FNanchor_CVIII._108" id="FNanchor_CVIII._108"></a><a href="#Footnote_CVIII._108" class="fnanchor">[CVIII.]</a> who being afraid to
live run blindly upon their own death, which no man
fears by experience: and the Stoics had a notable doctrine
to take away the fear thereof; that is, in such extremities,
to desire that which is not to be avoided, and
wish what might be feared; and so made evils voluntary,
and to suit with their own desires, which took off the
terror of them.</p>

<p>But the ancient martyrs were not encouraged by such
fallacies; who, though they feared not death, were afraid
to be their own executioners; and therefore thought it
more wisdom to crucify their lusts than their bodies, to
circumcise than stab their hearts, and to mortify than
kill themselves.</p>

<p>His willingness to leave this world about that age,
when most men think they may best enjoy it, though
paradoxical unto worldly ears, was not strange unto
mine, who have so often observed, that many, though
old, oft stick fast unto the world, and seem to be drawn
like Cacus’s oxen<a name="FNanchor_121" id="FNanchor_121"></a><a href="#Footnote_121" class="fnanchor">[121]</a>, backward, with great struggling and
reluctancy unto the grave. The long habit of living
makes mere men more hardly to part with life, and all
to be nothing, but what is to come. To live at the rate
of the old world, when some could scarce remember
themselves young, may afford no better digested death
than a more moderate period. Many would have
thought it an happiness to have had their lot of life
in some notable conjunctures of ages past; but the
uncertainty of future times have tempted few to make
a part in ages to come. And surely, he that hath taken
the true altitude of things, and rightly calculated the
degenerate state of this age, is not like to envy those
that shall live in the next, much less three or four hundred
years hence, when no man can comfortably imagine
what face this world will carry: and therefore since
every age makes a step unto the end of all things, and
the Scripture affords so hard a character of the last
times; quiet minds will be content with their generations,
and rather bless ages past, than be ambitious of
those to come.</p>

<p>Though age had set no seal upon his face, yet a dim
eye might clearly discover fifty in his actions; and
therefore, since wisdom is the grey hair, and an unspotted
life old age; although his years come short, he
might have been said to have held up with longer
livers, and to have been Solomon’s<a name="FNanchor_CIX._109" id="FNanchor_CIX._109"></a><a href="#Footnote_CIX._109" class="fnanchor">[CIX.]</a> old man. And
surely if we deduct all those days of our life which
we might wish unlived, and which abate the comfort of
those we now live; if we reckon up only those days
which God hath accepted of our lives, a life of good
years will hardly be a span long: the son in this sense
may outlive the father, and none be climacterically
old. He that early arriveth unto the parts and prudence
of age, is happily old without the uncomfortable
attendants of it; and ’tis superfluous to live unto grey
hairs, when in precocious temper we anticipate the
virtues of them. In brief, he cannot be accounted
young who outliveth the old man. He that hath early
arrived unto the measure of a perfect stature in Christ,
hath already fulfilled the prime and longest intention
of his being; and one day lived after the perfect
rule of piety, is to be preferred before sinning immortality.</p>

<p>Although he attained not unto the years of his predecessors,
yet he wanted not those preserving virtues
which confirm the thread of weaker constitutions. <i>Cautelous</i>
chastity and <i>crafty</i> sobriety were far from him;
those jewels were <i>paragon</i>, without flaw, hair, ice, or
cloud in him; which affords me a hint to proceed in
these good wishes, and few mementoes unto you.</p>

<p>Tread softly and circumspectly in this funambulous<a name="FNanchor_122" id="FNanchor_122"></a><a href="#Footnote_122" class="fnanchor">[122]</a>
track and narrow path of goodness; pursue virtue
virtuously, be sober and temperate, not to preserve your
body in a sufficiency for wanton ends, not to spare your
purse, not to be free from the infamy of common transgressors
that way, and thereby to balance or palliate
obscure and closer vices, nor simply to enjoy health, by
all of which you may leaven good actions, and render
virtues disputable, but, in one word, that you may truly
serve God, which every sickness will tell you you cannot
well do without health. The sick man’s sacrifice is but
a lame oblation. Pious treasures, laid up in healthful
days, excuse the defect of sick non-performance; without
which we must needs look back with anxiety upon the
last opportunities of health; and may have cause rather
to envy than pity the ends of penitent malefactors, who
go with clear parts unto the last act of their lives, and
in the integrity of their faculties return their spirit unto
God that gave it.</p>

<p>Consider whereabouts thou art in Cebe’s<a name="FNanchor_123" id="FNanchor_123"></a><a href="#Footnote_123" class="fnanchor">[123]</a> table, or
that old philosophical pinax<a name="FNanchor_124" id="FNanchor_124"></a><a href="#Footnote_124" class="fnanchor">[124]</a> of the life of man;
whether thou art still in the road of uncertainties;
whether thou hast yet entered the narrow gate, got up
the hill and asperous way which leadeth unto the house
of sanity; or taken that purifying potion from the hand
of sincere erudition, which may send thee clear and pure
away unto a virtuous and happy life.</p>

<p>In this virtuous voyage let no disappointment cause
despondency, nor difficulty despair. Think not that
you are sailing from Lima to Manilla,<a name="FNanchor_CX._110" id="FNanchor_CX._110"></a><a href="#Footnote_CX._110" class="fnanchor">[CX.]</a> <a name="FNanchor_125" id="FNanchor_125"></a><a href="#Footnote_125" class="fnanchor">[125]</a> wherein
thou mayest tie up the rudder, and sleep before the
wind, but expect rough seas, flaws and contrary blasts;
and ’tis well if by many cross tacks and veerings thou
arrivest at the port. Sit not down in the popular
seats and common level of virtues, but endeavour to
make them heroical. Offer not only peace-offerings but
holocausts unto God. To serve him singly to serve ourselves
were too partial a piece of piety, not like to place
us in the highest mansions of glory.</p>

<p>He that is chaste and continent not to impair his
strength or terrified by contagion will hardly be heroically
virtuous. Adjourn not that virtue until those years
when Cato could lend out his wife, and impotent satyrs
write satires against lust, but be chaste in thy flaming
days when Alexander dared not trust his eyes upon the
fair sisters of Darius, and when so many think that
there is no other way but Origen’s.<a name="FNanchor_CXI._111" id="FNanchor_CXI._111"></a><a href="#Footnote_CXI._111" class="fnanchor">[CXI.]</a></p>

<p>Be charitable before wealth make thee covetous, and
lose not the glory of the mitre. If riches increase, let
thy mind hold pace with them, and think it is not
enough to be liberal but munificent. Though a cup of
cold water from some hand may not be without its
reward, yet stick not thou for wine and oil for the
wounds of the distressed, and treat the poor as our
Saviour did the multitude to the reliques of some
baskets.</p>

<p>Trust not unto the omnipotency of gold, or say not
unto it, thou art my confidence. Kiss not thy hand
when thou beholdest that terrestrial sun, nor bore thy
ear unto its servitude. A slave unto Mammon makes
no servant unto God. Covetousness cracks the sinews
of faith, numbs the apprehension of anything above
sense; and only affected with the certainty of things
present, makes a peradventure of things to come; lives
but unto one world, nor hopes but fears another: makes
their own death sweet unto others, bitter unto themselves,
brings formal sadness, scenical mourning, and
no wet eyes at the grave.</p>

<p>If avarice be thy vice, yet make it not thy punishment.
Miserable men commiserate not themselves,
bowelless unto themselves, and merciless unto their
own bowels. Let the fruition of things bless the
possession of them, and take no satisfaction in dying
but living rich. For since thy good works, not thy
goods will follow thee; since riches are an appurtenance
of life, and no dead man is rich, to famish in plenty,
and live poorly to die rich, were a multiplying improvement
in madness and use upon use in folly.</p>

<p>Persons lightly dipt, not grained, in generous honesty
are but pale in goodness and faint-hued in sincerity.
But be thou what thou virtuously art, and let not the
ocean wash away thy tincture. Stand majestically upon
that axis where prudent simplicity hath fixed thee;
and at no temptation invert the poles of thy honesty
that vice may be uneasy and even monstrous unto
thee; let iterated good acts and long confirmed habits
make virtue natural or a second nature in thee; and since
few or none prove eminently virtuous but from some
advantageous foundations in their temper and natural
inclinations, study thyself betimes, and early find what
nature bids thee to be or tells thee what thou mayest
be. They who thus timely descend into themselves,
cultivating the good seeds which nature hath set in them,
and improving their prevalent inclinations to perfection,
become not shrubs but cedars in their generation. And
to be in the form of the best of bad, or the worst of the
good, will be no satisfaction unto them.</p>

<p>Let not the law of thy country be the <i>non ultra</i> of
thy honesty, nor think that always good enough that
the law will make good. Narrow not the law of
charity, equity, mercy. Join gospel righteousness with
legal right. Be not a mere Gamaliel in the faith, but
let the Sermon on the Mount be thy Targum unto the
law of Sinai.</p>

<p>Make not the consequences of virtue the ends
thereof. Be not beneficent for a name or cymbal
of applause; nor exact and punctual in commerce for
the advantages of trust and credit, which attend the
reputation of just and true dealing: for such rewards,
though unsought for, plain virtue will bring with her,
whom all men honour, though they pursue not. To
have other by-ends in good actions sours laudable
performances, which must have deeper roots, motives,
and instigations, to give them the stamp of virtues.</p>

<p>Though human infirmity may betray thy heedless
days into the popular ways of extravagancy, yet, let
not thine own depravity or the torrent of vicious times
carry thee into desperate enormities in opinions, manners,
or actions. If thou hast dipped thy foot in the river,
yet venture not over Rubicon; run not into extremities
from whence there is no regression, nor be ever so closely
shut up within the holds of vice and iniquity, as not
to find some escape by a postern of recipiscency.<a name="FNanchor_126" id="FNanchor_126"></a><a href="#Footnote_126" class="fnanchor">[126]</a></p>

<p>Owe not thy humility unto humiliation by adversity,
but look humbly down in that state when others look
upward upon thee. Be patient in the age of pride,
and days of will, and impatiency, when men live but by
intervals of reason, under the sovereignty of humour and
passion, when it is in the power of every one to transform
thee out of thyself, and put thee into short madness.<a name="FNanchor_CXII._112" id="FNanchor_CXII._112"></a><a href="#Footnote_CXII._112" class="fnanchor">[CXII.]</a>
If you cannot imitate Job, yet come not short of
Socrates, and those patient Pagans, who tired the
tongues of their enemies, while they perceived they
spit their malice at brazen walls and statues.</p>

<p>Let age, not envy, draw wrinkles on thy cheeks; be
content to be envied, but envy not. Emulation may be
plausible, and indignation allowable, but admit no treaty
with that passion which no circumstance can make
good. A displacency at the good of others, because
they enjoy it although we do not want it, is an absurd
depravity sticking fast unto nature, from its primitive
corruption, which he that can well subdue were a
Christian of the first magnitude, and for ought I know
may have one foot already in heaven.</p>

<p>While thou so hotly disclaimest the devil, be not
guilty of Diabolism. Fall not into one name with that
unclean spirit, nor act his nature whom thou so much
abhorrest, that is, to accuse, calumniate, backbite,
whisper, detract, or sinistrously interpret others. Degenerous
depravities and narrow-minded vices! not only
below St Paul’s noble Christian, but Aristotle’s true gentleman.<a name="FNanchor_CXIII._113" id="FNanchor_CXIII._113"></a><a href="#Footnote_CXIII._113" class="fnanchor">[CXIII.]</a>
Trust not with some that the Epistle of St
James is apocryphal, and so read with less fear that
stabbing truth that in company with this vice, “thy
religion is in vain.” Moses broke the tables without
breaking the law, but where charity is broke the law
itself is shattered, which cannot be whole without love
that is “the fulfilling of it.” Look humbly upon thy
virtues, and though thou art rich in some, yet think
thyself poor and naked without that crowning grace
which “thinketh no evil, which envieth not, which
beareth, believeth, hopeth, endureth all things.”
With these sure graces while busy tongues are crying
out for a drop of cold water, mutes may be in happiness,
and sing the “Trisagium,”<a name="FNanchor_CXIV._114" id="FNanchor_CXIV._114"></a><a href="#Footnote_CXIV._114" class="fnanchor">[CXIV.]</a> in heaven.</p>

<p>Let not the sun in Capricorn<a name="FNanchor_CXV._115" id="FNanchor_CXV._115"></a><a href="#Footnote_CXV._115" class="fnanchor">[CXV.]</a> go down upon thy
wrath, but write thy wrongs in water, draw the curtain
of night upon injuries, shut them up in the tower of
oblivion,<a name="FNanchor_CXVI._116" id="FNanchor_CXVI._116"></a><a href="#Footnote_CXVI._116" class="fnanchor">[CXVI.]</a> and let them be as though they had not been.
Forgive thine enemies totally, without any reserve of
hope that however God will revenge thee.</p>

<p>Be substantially great in thyself, and more than thou
appearest unto others; and let the world be deceived
in thee, as they are in the lights of heaven. Hang early
plummets upon the heels of pride, and let ambition
have but an epicycle<a name="FNanchor_127" id="FNanchor_127"></a><a href="#Footnote_127" class="fnanchor">[127]</a> or narrow circuit in thee.
Measure not thyself by thy morning shadow, but by
the extent of thy grave; and reckon thyself above
the earth, by the line thou must be contented with
under it. Spread not into boundless expansions either
to designs or desires. Think not that mankind liveth
but for a few; and that the rest are born but to serve
the ambition of those who make but flies of men, and
wildernesses of whole nations. Swell not into vehement
actions, which embroil and confound the earth, but be
one of those violent ones that force the kingdom of
heaven.<a name="FNanchor_CXVII._117" id="FNanchor_CXVII._117"></a><a href="#Footnote_CXVII._117" class="fnanchor">[CXVII.]</a> If thou must needs rule, be Zeno’s king, and
enjoy that empire which every man gives himself:
certainly the iterated injunctions of Christ unto humility,
meekness, patience, and that despised train of virtues,
cannot but make pathetical impression upon those
who have well considered the affairs of all ages;
wherein pride, ambition, and vain-glory, have led
up to the worst of actions, whereunto confusions,
tragedies, and acts, denying all religion, do owe their
originals.</p>

<p>Rest not in an ovation,<a name="FNanchor_CXVIII._118" id="FNanchor_CXVIII._118"></a><a href="#Footnote_CXVIII._118" class="fnanchor">[CXVIII.]</a> but a triumph over thy
passions. Chain up the unruly legion of thy breast;
behold thy trophies within thee, not without thee.
Lead thine own captivity captive, and be Cæsar unto
thyself.</p>

<p>Give no quarter unto those vices that are of thine
inward family, and, having a root in thy temper, plead
a right and propriety in thee. Examine well thy complexional
inclinations. Rain early batteries against
those strongholds built upon the rock of nature, and
make this a great part of the militia of thy life. The
politic nature of vice must be opposed by policy, and
therefore wiser honesties project and plot against sin;
wherein notwithstanding we are not to rest in generals,
or the trite stratagems of art; that may succeed with
one temper, which may prove successless with another.
There is no community or commonwealth of virtue,
every man must study his own economy and erect
these rules unto the figure of himself.</p>

<p>Lastly, if length of days be thy portion, make it not
thy expectation. Reckon not upon long life; but live
always beyond thy account. He that so often surviveth
his expectation lives many lives, and will scarce
complain of the shortness of his days. Time past is
gone like a shadow; make times to come present; conceive
that near which may be far off. Approximate
thy latter times by present apprehensions of them: be
like a neighbour unto death, and think there is but
little to come. And since there is something in us that
must still live on, join both lives together, unite them
in thy thoughts and actions, and live in one but for the
other. He who thus ordereth the purposes of this life,
will never be far from the next, and is in some manner
already in it, by a happy conformity and close apprehension
of it.</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 175px;">
<img src="images/zill_210.png" width="175" height="178" alt="decoration" />
</div>


<div class="chapter">

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<img src="images/zill_211.png" width="450" height="106" alt="decoration" />
</div>

<h2 class="nobreak"><a name="NOTES_TO_THE_RELIGIO_MEDICI" id="NOTES_TO_THE_RELIGIO_MEDICI">NOTES TO THE RELIGIO MEDICI.</a></h2>

</div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_1" id="Footnote_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1">
<span class="label">1.</span></a>
It was a proverb, “Ubi tres medici duo athei.”</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_2" id="Footnote_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2"><span class="label">2.</span></a> A Latinised word meaning a taunt (impropero.)</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_3" id="Footnote_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3"><span class="label">3.</span></a> The synod of Dort was held in 1619 to discuss the doctrines of
Arminius. It ended by condemning them.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_4" id="Footnote_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4"><span class="label">4.</span></a> Hallam, commenting on this passage, says&mdash;“That Jesuit must be a
disgrace to his order who would have asked more than such a concession
to secure a proselyte&mdash;the right of interpreting whatever
was written, and of supplying whatever was not.”&mdash;<i>Hist. England</i>,
vol. ii. p. 74.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_5" id="Footnote_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5"><span class="label">5.</span></a> See the statute of the Six Articles (31 Hen. VIII. c. 14), which declared
that transubstantiation, communion in one kind, celibacy
of the clergy, vows of widowhood, private masses, and auricular
confession, were part of the law of England.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_6" id="Footnote_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6"><span class="label">6.</span></a> In the year 1606, when the Jesuits were expelled from Venice, Pope
Paul V. threatened to excommunicate that republic. A most
violent quarrel ensued, which was ultimately settled by the mediation
of France.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_7" id="Footnote_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7"><span class="label">7.</span></a> Alluding to the story of Œdipus solving the riddle proposed by the
Sphynx.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_8" id="Footnote_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8"><span class="label">8.</span></a> The nymph Arethusa was changed by Diana into a fountain, and
was said to have flowed under the sea from Elis to the fountain of
Arethusa near Syracuse.&mdash;Ov. <i>Met.</i> lib. v. fab. 8.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_9" id="Footnote_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9"><span class="label">9.</span></a> These heretics denied the immortality of the soul, but held that it
was recalled to life with the body. Origen came from Egypt to
confute them, and is said to have succeeded. (See Mosh. <i>Eccl.
Hist.</i>, lib. i. c. 5. sec. 16.) Pope John XXII. afterwards
adopted it.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_10" id="Footnote_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10"><span class="label">10.</span></a> A division from the Greek διχοτομια.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_11" id="Footnote_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11"><span class="label">11.</span></a> The brain.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_12" id="Footnote_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12"><span class="label">12.</span></a> A faint resemblance, from the Latin <i>adumbro</i>, to shade.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_13" id="Footnote_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13"><span class="label">13.</span></a> Alluding to the idea Sir T. Browne often expresses, that an oracle
was the utterance of the devil.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_14" id="Footnote_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14"><span class="label">14.</span></a> To fathom, from Latin <i>profundus</i>.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_15" id="Footnote_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15"><span class="label">15.</span></a> Beginning from the Latin <i>efficio</i>.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_16" id="Footnote_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16"><span class="label">16.</span></a> Galen’s great work.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_17" id="Footnote_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_17"><span class="label">17.</span></a> John de Monte Regio made a wooden eagle that, when the emperor
was entering Nuremburg, flew to meet him, and hovered over his
head. He also made an iron fly that, when at dinner, he was
able to make start from under his hand, and fly round the table.&mdash;See
De Bartas, 6<sup>me</sup> jour 1<sup>me</sup> semaine.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_18" id="Footnote_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_18"><span class="label">18.</span></a> Hidden, from the Greek κρυπτω.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_19" id="Footnote_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_19"><span class="label">19.</span></a> A military term for a small mine.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_20" id="Footnote_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_20"><span class="label">20.</span></a> The Armada.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_21" id="Footnote_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_21"><span class="label">21.</span></a> The practice of drawing lots.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_22" id="Footnote_22"></a><a href="#FNanchor_22"><span class="label">22.</span></a> An account.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_23" id="Footnote_23"></a><a href="#FNanchor_23"><span class="label">23.</span></a> See Il. VIII. 18&mdash;</p>

<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza">
       <div class="verse">“Let down our golden everlasting chain,</div>
       <div class="verse">Whose strong embrace holds heaven, and earth, and main.”</div>
       <div class="verse indent4">&mdash;<i>Pope</i>, Il. viii. 26.</div>
</div></div></div>
</div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_24" id="Footnote_24"></a><a href="#FNanchor_24"><span class="label">24.</span></a> An argument where one proposition is accumulated upon another,
from the Greek σωρειτης, a heap.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_25" id="Footnote_25"></a><a href="#FNanchor_25"><span class="label">25.</span></a> Alluding to the second triumvirate&mdash;that of Augustus, Antony, and
Lepidus. Florus says of it, “Respublica convulsa est lacerataque.”</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_26" id="Footnote_26"></a><a href="#FNanchor_26"><span class="label">26.</span></a> Ochinus. He was first a monk, then a doctor, then a Capuchin friar,
then a Protestant: in 1547 he came to England, and was very
active in the Reformation. He was afterwards made Canon of
Canterbury. The Socinians claim him as one of their sect.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_27" id="Footnote_27"></a><a href="#FNanchor_27"><span class="label">27.</span></a> The father of Pantagruel. His adventures are given in the first book
of Rabelais, Sir Bevys of Hampton, a metrical romance, relating
the adventures of Sir Bevys with the Saracens.&mdash;Wright and
Halliwell’s <i>Reliquiæ Antiquæ</i>, ii. 59.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_28" id="Footnote_28"></a><a href="#FNanchor_28"><span class="label">28.</span></a> Contradictions between two laws.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_29" id="Footnote_29"></a><a href="#FNanchor_29"><span class="label">29.</span></a> On his arrival at Paris, Pantagruel visited the library of St Victor:
he states a list of the works he found there, among which was
“Tartaretus.” Pierre Tartaret was a French doctor who disputed
with Duns Scotus. His works were republished at Lyons, 1621.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_30" id="Footnote_30"></a><a href="#FNanchor_30"><span class="label">30.</span></a> Deucalion was king of Thessaly at the time of the deluge. He and
his wife Pyrrha, with the advice of the oracle of Themis, repeopled
the earth by throwing behind them the bones of their grandmother,&mdash;<i>i.e.</i>,
stones of the earth.&mdash;See Ovid, <i>Met.</i> lib. i.
fab. 7.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_31" id="Footnote_31"></a><a href="#FNanchor_31"><span class="label">31.</span></a> St Augustine (De Civ. Dei, xvi. 7).</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_32" id="Footnote_32"></a><a href="#FNanchor_32"><span class="label">32.</span></a> απηγξατο (St Matt. xxvii. 5) means death by choking. Erasmus
translates it, “abiens laqueo se suspendit.”</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_33" id="Footnote_33"></a><a href="#FNanchor_33"><span class="label">33.</span></a> Burnt by order of the Caliph Omar, A.D. 640. It contained 700,000
volumes, which served the city for fuel instead of wood for six months.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_34" id="Footnote_34"></a><a href="#FNanchor_34"><span class="label">34.</span></a> Enoch being informed by Adam the world was to be drowned and
burnt, made two pillars, one of stone to withstand the water, and
one of brick to withstand the fire, and inscribed upon them all
known knowledge.&mdash;See Josephus, <i>Ant. Jud.</i></p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_35" id="Footnote_35"></a><a href="#FNanchor_35"><span class="label">35.</span></a> A Franciscan friar, counsellor to the Inquisition, who visited the
principal libraries in Spain to make a catalogue of the books opposed
to the Romish religion. His “index novus librorum prohibitorum”
was published at Seville in 1631.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_36" id="Footnote_36"></a><a href="#FNanchor_36"><span class="label">36.</span></a> Printing, gunpowder, clocks.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_37" id="Footnote_37"></a><a href="#FNanchor_37"><span class="label">37.</span></a> The Targums and the various Talmuds.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_38" id="Footnote_38"></a><a href="#FNanchor_38"><span class="label">38.</span></a> Pagans, Mahometans, Jews, Christians.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_39" id="Footnote_39"></a><a href="#FNanchor_39"><span class="label">39.</span></a> Valour, and death in battle.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_40" id="Footnote_40"></a><a href="#FNanchor_40"><span class="label">40.</span></a> Held 1414-1418.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_41" id="Footnote_41"></a><a href="#FNanchor_41"><span class="label">41.</span></a> Vergilius, bishop of Salzburg, having asserted the existence of
Antipodes, the Archbishop of Metz declared him to be a heretic,
and caused him to be burnt.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_42" id="Footnote_42"></a><a href="#FNanchor_42"><span class="label">42.</span></a> On searching on Mount Calvary for the true cross, the empress
found three. As she was uncertain which was the right one, she
caused them to be applied to the body of a dead man, and the
one that restored him to life was determined to be the true cross.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_43" id="Footnote_43"></a><a href="#FNanchor_43"><span class="label">43.</span></a> The critical time in human life.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_44" id="Footnote_44"></a><a href="#FNanchor_44"><span class="label">44.</span></a> Oracles were said to have ceased when Christ came, the reply to
Augustus on the subject being the last&mdash;</p>

<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza">
       <div class="verse">“Me puer Hebræus divos Deus ipse gubernans</div>
       <div class="verse">Cedere sede jubet tristemque redire sub Orcum</div>
       <div class="verse">Aris ergo de hinc tacitus discedito nostris.”</div>
</div></div></div>
</div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_45" id="Footnote_45"></a><a href="#FNanchor_45"><span class="label">45.</span></a> An historian who wrote “De Rebus Indicis.” He is cited by Pliny,
Strabo, and Josephus.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_46" id="Footnote_46"></a><a href="#FNanchor_46"><span class="label">46.</span></a> Alluding to the popular superstition that infant children were carried
off by fairies, and others left in their places.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_47" id="Footnote_47"></a><a href="#FNanchor_47"><span class="label">47.</span></a> Who is said to have lived without meat, on the smell of a rose.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_48" id="Footnote_48"></a><a href="#FNanchor_48"><span class="label">48.</span></a> “Essentiæ rationalis immortalis.”</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_49" id="Footnote_49"></a><a href="#FNanchor_49"><span class="label">49.</span></a> St Augustine, De Civ. Dei, lib. x., cc. 9, 19, 32.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_50" id="Footnote_50"></a><a href="#FNanchor_50"><span class="label">50.</span></a> That which includes everything is opposed to nullity.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_51" id="Footnote_51"></a><a href="#FNanchor_51"><span class="label">51.</span></a> An inversion of the parts of an antithesis.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_52" id="Footnote_52"></a><a href="#FNanchor_52"><span class="label">52.</span></a> St Augustine&mdash;“Homily on Genesis.”</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_53" id="Footnote_53"></a><a href="#FNanchor_53"><span class="label">53.</span></a> Sir T. Browne wrote a dialogue between two twins in the womb
respecting the world into which they were going!</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_54" id="Footnote_54"></a><a href="#FNanchor_54"><span class="label">54.</span></a> Refinement.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_55" id="Footnote_55"></a><a href="#FNanchor_55"><span class="label">55.</span></a> Constitution another form of temperament.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_56" id="Footnote_56"></a><a href="#FNanchor_56"><span class="label">56.</span></a> The Jewish computation for fifty years.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_57" id="Footnote_57"></a><a href="#FNanchor_57"><span class="label">57.</span></a> Saturn revolves once in thirty years.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_58" id="Footnote_58"></a><a href="#FNanchor_58"><span class="label">58.</span></a> Christian IV., of Denmark, who reigned from 1588-1647.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_59" id="Footnote_59"></a><a href="#FNanchor_59"><span class="label">59.</span></a> Æson was the father of Jason. By bathing in a bath prepared for him
by Medæa with some magic spells, he became young again. Ovid
describes the bath and its ingredients, <i>Met.</i>, lib. vii. fab. 2.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_60" id="Footnote_60"></a><a href="#FNanchor_60"><span class="label">60.</span></a> Alluding to the rabbinical tradition that the world would last for
6000 years, attributed to Elias, and cited in the Talmud.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_61" id="Footnote_61"></a><a href="#FNanchor_61"><span class="label">61.</span></a> Zeno was the founder of the Stoics.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_62" id="Footnote_62"></a><a href="#FNanchor_62"><span class="label">62.</span></a> Referring to a passage in Suetonius, Vit. J. Cæsar, sec 87:&mdash;“Aspernatus
tam lentum mortis genus subitam sibi celeremque optaverat.”</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_63" id="Footnote_63"></a><a href="#FNanchor_63"><span class="label">63.</span></a> In holding</p>

<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza">
       <div class="verse indent6">“Mors ultima pœna est,</div>
       <div class="verse">Nec metuenda viris.”</div>
</div></div></div>
</div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_64" id="Footnote_64"></a><a href="#FNanchor_64"><span class="label">64.</span></a> The period when the moon is in conjunction and obscured by the sun.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_65" id="Footnote_65"></a><a href="#FNanchor_65"><span class="label">65.</span></a> One of the judges of hell.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_66" id="Footnote_66"></a><a href="#FNanchor_66"><span class="label">66.</span></a> To select some great man for our ideal, and always to act as if he
was present with us. See Seneca, lib. i. Ep. 11.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_67" id="Footnote_67"></a><a href="#FNanchor_67"><span class="label">67.</span></a> Sir T. Browne seems to have made various experiments in this
subject. D’Israeli refers to it in his “Curiosities of Literature.”
Dr Power, a friend of Sir T. Browne, with whom he corresponded,
gives a receipt for the process.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_68" id="Footnote_68"></a><a href="#FNanchor_68"><span class="label">68.</span></a> The celebrated Greek philosopher who taught that the sun was a
mass of heated stone, and various other astronomical doctrines.
Some critics say Anaxarchus is meant here.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_69" id="Footnote_69"></a><a href="#FNanchor_69"><span class="label">69.</span></a> See Milton’s “Paradise Lost,” lib. I. 254&mdash;</p>

<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza">
       <div class="verse">“The mind is its own place, and in itself</div>
       <div class="verse">Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.”</div>
</div></div></div>


<p>And also Lucretius&mdash;</p>

<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza">
       <div class="verse">“Hic Acherusia fit stultorum denique vita.”&mdash;iii. 1023.</div>
</div></div></div>
</div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_70" id="Footnote_70"></a><a href="#FNanchor_70"><span class="label">70.</span></a> Keck says here&mdash;“So did they all, as Lactantius has observed at
large. Aristotle is said to have been guilty of great vanity in
his clothes, of incontinency, and of unfaithfulness to his master,
Alexander II.”</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_71" id="Footnote_71"></a><a href="#FNanchor_71"><span class="label">71.</span></a> Phalaris, king of Agrigentum, who, when Perillus made a brazen
bull in which to kill criminals, placed him in it to try its effects.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_72" id="Footnote_72"></a><a href="#FNanchor_72"><span class="label">72.</span></a> Their maxim was</p>

<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza">
       <div class="verse">“Nihil sciri siquis putat id quoque nescit,</div>
       <div class="verse">An sciri possit quod se nil scire fatetur.”</div>
</div></div></div>
</div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_73" id="Footnote_73"></a><a href="#FNanchor_73"><span class="label">73.</span></a> Pope Alexander III., in his declaration to the Doge, said,&mdash;“Que
la mer vous soit soumise comme l’epouse l’est à son epoux
puisque vous in avez acquis l’empire par la victorie.” In commemoration
of this the Doge and Senate went yearly to Lio, and
throwing a ring into the water, claimed the sea as their bride.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_74" id="Footnote_74"></a><a href="#FNanchor_74"><span class="label">74.</span></a> Appolonius Thyaneus, who threw a large quantity of gold into the
sea, saying, “Pessundo divitias ne pessundare ab illis.”</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_75" id="Footnote_75"></a><a href="#FNanchor_75"><span class="label">75.</span></a> The technical term in fencing for a hit&mdash;</p>

<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza">
       <div class="verse">“A sweet touch, a quick venew of wit.”</div>
       <div class="verse indent4"><i>Love’s Labour Lost</i>, act v. sc. 1.</div>
</div></div></div>

</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_76" id="Footnote_76"></a><a href="#FNanchor_76"><span class="label">76.</span></a> Strabo compared the configuration of the world, as then known, to
a cloak or mantle (<i>chalmys</i>).</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_77" id="Footnote_77"></a><a href="#FNanchor_77"><span class="label">77.</span></a> Atomists or familists were a Puritanical sect who appeared about 1575,
founded by Henry Nicholas, a Dutchman. They considered that the
doctrine of revelation was an allegory, and believed that they had
attained to spiritual perfection.&mdash;See Neal’s Hist. of Puritans, i. 273.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_78" id="Footnote_78"></a><a href="#FNanchor_78"><span class="label">78.</span></a> From the 126th psalm St Augustine contends that Solomon is
damned. See also Lyra in 2 Kings vii.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_79" id="Footnote_79"></a><a href="#FNanchor_79"><span class="label">79.</span></a> From the Spanish “Dorado,” a gilt head.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_80" id="Footnote_80"></a><a href="#FNanchor_80"><span class="label">80.</span></a> Sir T. Browne treats of chiromancy, or the art of telling fortunes by
means of lines in the hands, in his “Vulgar Errors,” lib. v. cap. 23.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_81" id="Footnote_81"></a><a href="#FNanchor_81"><span class="label">81.</span></a> Gypsies.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_82" id="Footnote_82"></a><a href="#FNanchor_82"><span class="label">82.</span></a> S. Wilkin says that here this word means niggardly.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_83" id="Footnote_83"></a><a href="#FNanchor_83"><span class="label">83.</span></a> In the dialogue, “judicium vocalium,” the vowels are the judges,
and Σ complains that T has deprived him of many letters that
ought to begin with Σ.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_84" id="Footnote_84"></a><a href="#FNanchor_84"><span class="label">84.</span></a> If Jovis or Jupitris.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_85" id="Footnote_85"></a><a href="#FNanchor_85"><span class="label">85.</span></a> The celebrated Roman grammarian. A proverbial phrase for the
violation of grammar was “Breaking Priscian’s head.”</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_86" id="Footnote_86"></a><a href="#FNanchor_86"><span class="label">86.</span></a> Livy says, Actius Nevius cut a whetstone through with a razor.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_87" id="Footnote_87"></a><a href="#FNanchor_87"><span class="label">87.</span></a> A kind of lizard that was supposed to kill all it looked at&mdash;</p>

<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza">
       <div class="verse indent6">“Whose baneful eye</div>
       <div class="verse">Wounds at a glance, so that the soundest dye.”</div>
       <div class="verse indent4">&mdash;<i>De Bartas</i>, 6<sup>me</sup> jour 1<sup>me</sup> sem.</div>
</div></div></div>
</div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_88" id="Footnote_88"></a><a href="#FNanchor_88"><span class="label">88.</span></a> Epimenides (Titus x. 12)&mdash;</p>

<div class="blockquot">

<p>“Κρῆτες ἀεὶ ψεῦσται κακὰ θηριά γαστέρες αργαὶ.”</p></div>
</div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_89" id="Footnote_89"></a><a href="#FNanchor_89"><span class="label">89.</span></a> Nero having heard a person say, “When I am dead, let earth be
mingled with fire,” replied, “Yes, while I live.”&mdash;Suetonius,
<i>Vit. Nero.</i></p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_90" id="Footnote_90"></a><a href="#FNanchor_90"><span class="label">90.</span></a> Alluding to the story of the Italian, who, having been provoked by
a person he met, put a poniard to his heart, and threatened to
kill him if he would not blaspheme God; and the stranger doing
so, the Italian killed him at once, that he might be damned, having
no time to repent.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_91" id="Footnote_91"></a><a href="#FNanchor_91"><span class="label">91.</span></a> A rapier or small sword.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_92" id="Footnote_92"></a><a href="#FNanchor_92"><span class="label">92.</span></a> The battle here referred to was the one between Don John of
Austria and the Turkish fleet, near Lepanto, in 1571. The battle
of Lepanto (that is, the capture of the town by the Turks) did not
take place till 1678.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_93" id="Footnote_93"></a><a href="#FNanchor_93"><span class="label">93.</span></a> Several authors say that Aristotle died of grief because he could
not find out the reason for the ebb and flow of the tide in Epirus.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_94" id="Footnote_94"></a><a href="#FNanchor_94"><span class="label">94.</span></a> Who deny that there is such a thing as science.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_95" id="Footnote_95"></a><a href="#FNanchor_95"><span class="label">95.</span></a> A motto on a ring or cup. In an old will, 1655, there is this
passage: “I give a cup of silver gilt to have this posy written in
the margin:&mdash;</p>

<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza">
       <div class="verse">“When the drink is out, and the bottom you may see,</div>
       <div class="verse">Remember your brother I. G.”</div>
</div></div></div>
</div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_96" id="Footnote_96"></a><a href="#FNanchor_96"><span class="label">96.</span></a> The opposition of a contrary quality, by which the quality it opposes
becomes heightened.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_97" id="Footnote_97"></a><a href="#FNanchor_97"><span class="label">97.</span></a> Adam as he was created and not born.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_98" id="Footnote_98"></a><a href="#FNanchor_98"><span class="label">98.</span></a> Meaning a world, as Atlas supported the world on his shoulders.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_99" id="Footnote_99"></a><a href="#FNanchor_99"><span class="label">99.</span></a> Merriment. Johnson says that this is the only place where the
word is found.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_100" id="Footnote_100"></a><a href="#FNanchor_100"><span class="label">100.</span></a> Said to be a cure for madness.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_101" id="Footnote_101"></a><a href="#FNanchor_101"><span class="label">101.</span></a> Patched garments.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_102" id="Footnote_102"></a><a href="#FNanchor_102"><span class="label">102.</span></a> A game. A kind of capping verses, in which, if any one repeated
what had been said before, he paid a forfeit.</p></div>


<div class="chapter">

<h2 class="nobreak"><a name="NOTES_TO_HYDRIOTAPHIA" id="NOTES_TO_HYDRIOTAPHIA">NOTES TO HYDRIOTAPHIA.</a></h2>

</div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_103" id="Footnote_103"></a><a href="#FNanchor_103"><span class="label">103.</span></a> Just.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_104" id="Footnote_104"></a><a href="#FNanchor_104"><span class="label">104.</span></a> Destruction.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_105" id="Footnote_105"></a><a href="#FNanchor_105"><span class="label">105.</span></a> A chemical vessel made of earth, ashes, or burnt bones, and in
which assay-masters try their metals. It suffers all baser ones
when fused and mixed with lead to pass off, and retains only
gold and silver.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_106" id="Footnote_106"></a><a href="#FNanchor_106"><span class="label">106.</span></a> This substance known to French chemists by the name “adipo-cire,”
was first discovered by Sir Thomas Browne.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_107" id="Footnote_107"></a><a href="#FNanchor_107"><span class="label">107.</span></a> From its thickness.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_108" id="Footnote_108"></a><a href="#FNanchor_108"><span class="label">108.</span></a> Euripides.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_109" id="Footnote_109"></a><a href="#FNanchor_109"><span class="label">109.</span></a> Greek, Latin, Hebrew, Egyptian, Arabic defaced by the Emperor Licinius.</p></div>


<div class="chapter">

<h2 class="nobreak"><a name="NOTES_TO_LETTER_TO_A_FRIEND" id="NOTES_TO_LETTER_TO_A_FRIEND">NOTES TO LETTER TO A FRIEND.</a></h2>

</div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_110" id="Footnote_110"></a><a href="#FNanchor_110"><span class="label">110.</span></a> Will not survive until next spring.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_111" id="Footnote_111"></a><a href="#FNanchor_111"><span class="label">111.</span></a> Wasting.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_112" id="Footnote_112"></a><a href="#FNanchor_112"><span class="label">112.</span></a> An eminent Italian Physician, lecturer in the University of Pavia,
died 1576. He was a most voluminous medical writer.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_113" id="Footnote_113"></a><a href="#FNanchor_113"><span class="label">113.</span></a> An eminent doctor and scholar who passed his time at Venice and
Padua studying and practising medicine, died 1568.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_114" id="Footnote_114"></a><a href="#FNanchor_114"><span class="label">114.</span></a> Charles V. was born 24th February, 1500.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_115" id="Footnote_115"></a><a href="#FNanchor_115"><span class="label">115.</span></a> Francis I. of France was taken prisoner at the battle of Pavia, 24th
February, 1525.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_116" id="Footnote_116"></a><a href="#FNanchor_116"><span class="label">116.</span></a> One of the greatest Protestant generals of the seventeenth century.
He died at Zara, 1626.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_117" id="Footnote_117"></a><a href="#FNanchor_117"><span class="label">117.</span></a> An inflation, or swelling, from the French bouffée.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_118" id="Footnote_118"></a><a href="#FNanchor_118"><span class="label">118.</span></a> August 20th, 1526. He was defeated by Solyman II., and suffocated
in a brook, by a fall from his horse, during the retreat.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_119" id="Footnote_119"></a><a href="#FNanchor_119"><span class="label">119.</span></a> The caul.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_120" id="Footnote_120"></a><a href="#FNanchor_120"><span class="label">120.</span></a> Money-seeking.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_121" id="Footnote_121"></a><a href="#FNanchor_121"><span class="label">121.</span></a> Cacus stole some of Hercules’ oxen, and drew them into his cave
backward to prevent any traces being discovered. Ovid Fast, 1. 554.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_122" id="Footnote_122"></a><a href="#FNanchor_122"><span class="label">122.</span></a> Narrow, like walking on a rope.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_123" id="Footnote_123"></a><a href="#FNanchor_123"><span class="label">123.</span></a> A Greek philosophical writer. This Πιναξ is a representation
of a table where the whole human life with its dangers and temptations
is symbolically represented.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_124" id="Footnote_124"></a><a href="#FNanchor_124"><span class="label">124.</span></a> Picture.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_125" id="Footnote_125"></a><a href="#FNanchor_125"><span class="label">125.</span></a> The course taken by the Spanish Treasure ships. See Anson Voyages.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_126" id="Footnote_126"></a><a href="#FNanchor_126"><span class="label">126.</span></a> A recommencement.</p>

<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza">
       <div class="verse indent14">“Dulcique senex vicinus Hymetto</div>
       <div class="verse">Qui partem acceptæ sava inter vincla cicutæ</div>
       <div class="verse">Accusatori nollet dare,”&mdash;Juv. Sat. xiii. 185.</div>
</div></div></div>
</div>

<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_127" id="Footnote_127"></a><a href="#FNanchor_127"><span class="label">127.</span></a> A small revolution made by one planet in the orbit of another.</p></div>




<p class="center small p4">BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.</p>

<hr class="tb" />

<div class="footnotes">

<h2 class="nobreak">FOOTNOTES.</h2>



<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_I._1" id="Footnote_I._1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_I._1"><span class="label">[I.]</span></a> A church-bell, that tolls every day at six and twelve of
the clock; at the hearing whereof every one, in what place
soever, either of house or street, betakes himself to his prayer,
which is commonly directed to the Virgin.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_II._2" id="Footnote_II._2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_II._2"><span class="label">[II.]</span></a> A revolution of certain thousand years, when all things
should return unto their former estate, and he be teaching
again in his school, as when he delivered this opinion.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_III._3" id="Footnote_III._3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_III._3"><span class="label">[III.]</span></a> “Sphæra cujus centrum ubique, circumferentia nullibi.”</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_IV._4" id="Footnote_IV._4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_IV._4"><span class="label">[IV.]</span></a> “Γνῶθι σεαυτὸν.” “Nosce teipsum.”</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_V._5" id="Footnote_V._5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_V._5"><span class="label">[V.]</span></a> “Post mortem nihil est, ipsaque mors nihil, mors individua
est noxia corpori, nec patiens animæ. . . . Toti morimur
nullaque pars manet nostri.”</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_VI._6" id="Footnote_VI._6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_VI._6"><span class="label">[VI.]</span></a> In Rabelais.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_VII._7" id="Footnote_VII._7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_VII._7"><span class="label">[VII.]</span></a> Pineda, in his “Monarchia Ecclesiastica,” quotes one
thousand and forty authors.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_VIII._8" id="Footnote_VIII._8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_VIII._8"><span class="label">[VIII.]</span></a> In his oracle to Augustus.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_IX._9" id="Footnote_IX._9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_IX._9"><span class="label">[IX.]</span></a> Thereby is meant our good angel, appointed us from our
nativity.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_X._10" id="Footnote_X._10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_X._10"><span class="label">[X.]</span></a> Who willed his friend not to bury him, but to hang him
up with a staff in his hand, to fright away the crows.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XI._11" id="Footnote_XI._11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XI._11"><span class="label">[XI.]</span></a> “Pharsalia,” vii. 819.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XII._12" id="Footnote_XII._12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XII._12"><span class="label">[XII.]</span></a> <i>Ep.</i> lib. xxiv. ep. 24.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XIII._13" id="Footnote_XIII._13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XIII._13"><span class="label">[XIII.]</span></a> <i>Pharsalia</i>, iv. 519.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XIV._14" id="Footnote_XIV._14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XIV._14"><span class="label">[XIV.]</span></a> <i>Pharsalia</i>, vii. 814.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XV._15" id="Footnote_XV._15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XV._15"><span class="label">[XV.]</span></a> “In those days there shall come liars and false prophets.”</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XVI._16" id="Footnote_XVI._16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XVI._16"><span class="label">[XVI.]</span></a> “Urbem Romam in principio reges habuere.”</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XVII._17" id="Footnote_XVII._17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XVII._17"><span class="label">[XVII.]</span></a> “In qua me non inficior mediocriter esse.”&mdash;<i>Pro Archia
Poeta</i>.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XVIII._18" id="Footnote_XVIII._18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XVIII._18"><span class="label">[XVIII.]</span></a> “Cic. de Off.,” 1. iii.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XIX._19" id="Footnote_XIX._19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XIX._19"><span class="label">[XIX.]</span></a> “The poor ye have always with you.”</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XX._20" id="Footnote_XX._20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XX._20"><span class="label">[XX.]</span></a> Who holds that the sun is the centre of the world.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XXI._21" id="Footnote_XXI._21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XXI._21"><span class="label">[XXI.]</span></a> “Pompeios juvenes Asia atque Europa, sed ipsum terrâ
tegit Libyos.”</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XXII._22" id="Footnote_XXII._22"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XXII._22"><span class="label">[XXII.]</span></a> Little directly but sea, between your house and Greenland.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XXIII._23" id="Footnote_XXIII._23"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XXIII._23"><span class="label">[XXIII.]</span></a> Brought back by Cimon Plutarch.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XXIV._24" id="Footnote_XXIV._24"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XXIV._24"><span class="label">[XXIV.]</span></a> The great urns at the Hippodrome at Rome, conceived to
resound the voices of people at their shows.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XXV._25" id="Footnote_XXV._25"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XXV._25"><span class="label">[XXV.]</span></a> “Abiit ad plures.”</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XXVI._26" id="Footnote_XXVI._26"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XXVI._26"><span class="label">[XXVI.]</span></a> Which makes the world so many years old.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XXVII._27" id="Footnote_XXVII._27"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XXVII._27"><span class="label">[XXVII.]</span></a> In the time of Henry the Second.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XXVIII._28" id="Footnote_XXVIII._28"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XXVIII._28"><span class="label">[XXVIII.]</span></a> “Adamas de rupe veteri præstantissimus.”</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XXIX._29" id="Footnote_XXIX._29"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XXIX._29"><span class="label">[XXIX.]</span></a> The rich mountain of Peru.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XXX._30" id="Footnote_XXX._30"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XXX._30"><span class="label">[XXX.]</span></a> Gumbrates, king of Chionia, a country near Persia.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XXXI._31" id="Footnote_XXXI._31"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XXXI._31"><span class="label">[XXXI.]</span></a> XII. Tabulæ, part i., de jure sacro, “Hominem mortuum
in urbe ne sepelito neve urito.”</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XXXII._32" id="Footnote_XXXII._32"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XXXII._32"><span class="label">[XXXII.]</span></a> “Ultima prolata subdita flamma rogo,” &amp;c. <i>Fast.</i>, lib.
iv., 856.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XXXIII._33" id="Footnote_XXXIII._33"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XXXIII._33"><span class="label">[XXXIII.]</span></a> And therefore the inscription on his tomb was made accordingly,
“Hic Damase.”</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XXXIV._34" id="Footnote_XXXIV._34"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XXXIV._34"><span class="label">[XXXIV.]</span></a> Which Magius reads ἐξαπόλωλε.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XXXV._35" id="Footnote_XXXV._35"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XXXV._35"><span class="label">[XXXV.]</span></a> Martialis the Bishop.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XXXVI._36" id="Footnote_XXXVI._36"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XXXVI._36"><span class="label">[XXXVI.]</span></a> Amos vi. 10.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XXXVII._37" id="Footnote_XXXVII._37"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XXXVII._37"><span class="label">[XXXVII.]</span></a> As in that magnificent sepulchral monument erected by
Simon.&mdash;1 <i>Macc.</i> xiii.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XXXVIII._38" id="Footnote_XXXVIII._38"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XXXVIII._38"><span class="label">[XXXVIII.]</span></a> κατασκεύασμα θαυμασίως πεποιημένον, whereof a Jewish
priest had always custody until Josephus’ days.&mdash;<i>Jos. Antiq.</i>,
lib. x.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XXXIX._39" id="Footnote_XXXIX._39"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XXXIX._39"><span class="label">[XXXIX.]</span></a> “Hominum infinita multitudo est creberrimaque; ædificia
fere Gallicis consimilia.”&mdash;<i>Cæsar de Bello. Gal.</i>, lib. v.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XL._40" id="Footnote_XL._40"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XL._40"><span class="label">[XL.]</span></a> “<i>Execrantur rogos, et damnant ignium sepulturam.</i>”&mdash;<i>Min.
in Oct.</i></p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XLI._41" id="Footnote_XLI._41"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XLI._41"><span class="label">[XLI.]</span></a> In Cheshire.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XLII._42" id="Footnote_XLII._42"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XLII._42"><span class="label">[XLII.]</span></a> In Norfolk.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XLIII._43" id="Footnote_XLIII._43"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XLIII._43"><span class="label">[XLIII.]</span></a> St Matt. xxiii.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XLIV._44" id="Footnote_XLIV._44"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XLIV._44"><span class="label">[XLIV.]</span></a> <i>Euripides.</i></p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XLV._45" id="Footnote_XLV._45"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XLV._45"><span class="label">[XLV.]</span></a> Psal. lxiii.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XLVI._46" id="Footnote_XLVI._46"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XLVI._46"><span class="label">[XLVI.]</span></a> “Χωρήσεις τὸν ἄνθρωπον, ὂν ἡ οἰκουμένη οὐκ ἐχώρησεν.”&mdash;<i>Dion.</i></p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XLVII._47" id="Footnote_XLVII._47"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XLVII._47"><span class="label">[XLVII.]</span></a> “Cum lacrymis posuere.”</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XLVIII._48" id="Footnote_XLVIII._48"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XLVIII._48"><span class="label">[XLVIII.]</span></a> About five hundred years.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XLIX._49" id="Footnote_XLIX._49"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XLIX._49"><span class="label">[XLIX.]</span></a> “Vinum Opiminianum annorum centum.”&mdash;<i>Petron.</i></p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_L._50" id="Footnote_L._50"></a><a href="#FNanchor_L._50"><span class="label">[L.]</span></a> “In amphitheatro semiustulandum.”&mdash;<i>Suetonius Vit.
Tib.</i></p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_LI._51" id="Footnote_LI._51"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LI._51"><span class="label">[LI.]</span></a> “Sic erimus cuncti, ... ergo dum vivimus vivamus.”</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_LII._52" id="Footnote_LII._52"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LII._52"><span class="label">[LII.]</span></a> Αγώνον παίζειν. A barbarous pastime at feasts, when
men stood upon a rolling globe, with their necks in a rope and
a knife in their hands, ready to cut it when the stone was
rolled away, wherein, if they failed, they lost their lives, to
the laughter of their spectators.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_LIII._53" id="Footnote_LIII._53"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LIII._53"><span class="label">[LIII.]</span></a> Diis manibus.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_LIV._54" id="Footnote_LIV._54"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LIV._54"><span class="label">[LIV.]</span></a> “Ἑκατόμπεδον ἔνθα ἢ ἔνθα.”</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_LV._55" id="Footnote_LV._55"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LV._55"><span class="label">[LV.]</span></a> The Brain. <i>Hippocrates</i>.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_LVI._56" id="Footnote_LVI._56"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LVI._56"><span class="label">[LVI.]</span></a> Amos ii. 1.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_LVII._57" id="Footnote_LVII._57"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LVII._57"><span class="label">[LVII.]</span></a> As Artemisia of her husband Mausolus.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_LVIII._58" id="Footnote_LVIII._58"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LVIII._58"><span class="label">[LVIII.]</span></a> Siste, viator.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_LIX._59" id="Footnote_LIX._59"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LIX._59"><span class="label">[LIX.]</span></a> Who was buried in 1530, and dug up in 1608, and found
perfect like an ordinary corpse newly interred.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_LX._60" id="Footnote_LX._60"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LX._60"><span class="label">[LX.]</span></a> Purgat. xxiii. 31.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_LXI._61" id="Footnote_LXI._61"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LXI._61"><span class="label">[LXI.]</span></a> “<i>Similis **** reviviscendi promissa Democrito vanitas,
qui non revixit ipse. Quæ (malum) ista dementia est iterari
vitam morte?</i>”&mdash;Plin. l. vii. c. 55.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_LXII._62" id="Footnote_LXII._62"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LXII._62"><span class="label">[LXII.]</span></a> “Καὶ τάχα δ᾽ἐκ γαίης ἐλπίζομεν ἐς φάος ἐλθεῖν λεῖψαν ἀποιχομένων.”</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_LXIII._63" id="Footnote_LXIII._63"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LXIII._63"><span class="label">[LXIII.]</span></a> “Cedit item retro de terra quod fuit ante in terras.”&mdash;<i>Luc.</i>,
lib. ii. 998.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_LXIV._64" id="Footnote_LXIV._64"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LXIV._64"><span class="label">[LXIV.]</span></a> “Vale, vale, nos te ordine quo natura permittet sequamur.”</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_LXV._65" id="Footnote_LXV._65"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LXV._65"><span class="label">[LXV.]</span></a> “Tu manes ne lœde meos.”</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_LXVI._66" id="Footnote_LXVI._66"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LXVI._66"><span class="label">[LXVI.]</span></a> The Russians, &amp;c.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_LXVII._67" id="Footnote_LXVII._67"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LXVII._67"><span class="label">[LXVII.]</span></a> <i>Del Inferno</i>, cant. 4.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_LXVIII._68" id="Footnote_LXVIII._68"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LXVIII._68"><span class="label">[LXVIII.]</span></a> <i>Tibullus</i>, lib. iii. el. 2, 26.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_LXIX._69" id="Footnote_LXIX._69"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LXIX._69"><span class="label">[LXIX.]</span></a> According to the ancient arithmetick of the hand, wherein
the little finger of the right hand contracted, signified an
hundred.&mdash;<i>Pierius in Hieroglyph.</i></p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_LXX._70" id="Footnote_LXX._70"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LXX._70"><span class="label">[LXX.]</span></a> One night as long as three.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_LXXI._71" id="Footnote_LXXI._71"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LXXI._71"><span class="label">[LXXI.]</span></a> The puzzling questions of Tiberius unto grammarians.&mdash;<i>Marcel.</i>
<i>Donatus in Suet.</i></p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_LXXII._72" id="Footnote_LXXII._72"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LXXII._72"><span class="label">[LXXII.]</span></a> That the world may last but six thousand years.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_LXXIII._73" id="Footnote_LXXIII._73"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LXXIII._73"><span class="label">[LXXIII.]</span></a> Hector’s fame outlasting above two lives of Methuselah
before that famous prince was extant.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_LXXIV._74" id="Footnote_LXXIV._74"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LXXIV._74"><span class="label">[LXXIV.]</span></a> The character of death.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_LXXV._75" id="Footnote_LXXV._75"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LXXV._75"><span class="label">[LXXV.]</span></a> “Cuperem notum esse quod sim non opto ut sciatur
qualis sim.”</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_LXXVI._76" id="Footnote_LXXVI._76"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LXXVI._76"><span class="label">[LXXVI.]</span></a> Isa. xiv. 16.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_LXXVII._77" id="Footnote_LXXVII._77"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LXXVII._77"><span class="label">[LXXVII.]</span></a> The least of angles.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_LXXVIII._78" id="Footnote_LXXVIII._78"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LXXVIII._78"><span class="label">[LXXVIII.]</span></a> In Paris, where bodies soon consume.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_LXXIX._79" id="Footnote_LXXIX._79"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LXXIX._79"><span class="label">[LXXIX.]</span></a> A stately mausoleum or sepulchral pile, built by Adrianus
in Rome, where now standeth the castle of St Angelo.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_LXXX._80" id="Footnote_LXXX._80"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LXXX._80"><span class="label">[LXXX.]</span></a> “Cum mors venerit, in medio Tibure Sardinia est.”</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_LXXXI._81" id="Footnote_LXXXI._81"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LXXXI._81"><span class="label">[LXXXI.]</span></a> In the king’s forests they set the figure of a broad arrow
upon trees that are to be cut down.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_LXXXII._82" id="Footnote_LXXXII._82"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LXXXII._82"><span class="label">[LXXXII.]</span></a> <i>Bellonius de Avibus.</i></p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_LXXXIII._83" id="Footnote_LXXXIII._83"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LXXXIII._83"><span class="label">[LXXXIII.]</span></a> “Monstra contingunt in medicina.” <i>Hippoc.</i>&mdash;“Strange
and rare escapes there happen sometimes in physick.”</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_LXXXIV._84" id="Footnote_LXXXIV._84"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LXXXIV._84"><span class="label">[LXXXIV.]</span></a> Matt. iv. 23.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_LXXXV._85" id="Footnote_LXXXV._85"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LXXXV._85"><span class="label">[LXXXV.]</span></a> “Aristoteles nullum animal nisi æstu recedente expirare
affirmat; observatum id multum in Gallico Oceano et duntaxat
in homine compertum,” lib. 2, cap. 101.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_LXXXVI._86" id="Footnote_LXXXVI._86"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LXXXVI._86"><span class="label">[LXXXVI.]</span></a> “Auris pars pendula lobus dicitur, non omnibus ea pars,
est auribus; non enim iis qui noctu sunt, sed qui interdiu,
maxima ex parte.”&mdash;<i>Com. in Aristot. de Animal.</i> lib. 1.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_LXXXVII._87" id="Footnote_LXXXVII._87"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LXXXVII._87"><span class="label">[LXXXVII.]</span></a> According to the Egyptian hieroglyphic.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_LXXXVIII._88" id="Footnote_LXXXVIII._88"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LXXXVIII._88"><span class="label">[LXXXVIII.]</span></a> Turkish history.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_LXXXIX._89" id="Footnote_LXXXIX._89"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LXXXIX._89"><span class="label">[LXXXIX.]</span></a> In the poet Dante’s description.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XC._90" id="Footnote_XC._90"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XC._90"><span class="label">[XC.]</span></a> i.e. “by six persons.”</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XCI._91" id="Footnote_XCI._91"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XCI._91"><span class="label">[XCI.]</span></a> Morta, the deity of death or fate.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XCII._92" id="Footnote_XCII._92"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XCII._92"><span class="label">[XCII.]</span></a> When men’s faces are drawn with resemblance to some
other animals, the Italians call it, to be drawn <i>in caricatura</i>.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XCIII._93" id="Footnote_XCIII._93"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XCIII._93"><span class="label">[XCIII.]</span></a> <i>Ulmus de usu barbæ humanæ.</i></p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XCIV._94" id="Footnote_XCIV._94"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XCIV._94"><span class="label">[XCIV.]</span></a> The life of man is threescore and ten.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XCV._95" id="Footnote_XCV._95"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XCV._95"><span class="label">[XCV.]</span></a> See <i>Picotus de Rheumatismo</i>.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XCVI._96" id="Footnote_XCVI._96"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XCVI._96"><span class="label">[XCVI.]</span></a> His upper jaw being solid, and without distinct rows of teeth.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XCVII._97" id="Footnote_XCVII._97"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XCVII._97"><span class="label">[XCVII.]</span></a> Twice tell over his teeth, never live to threescore years.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XCVIII._98" id="Footnote_XCVIII._98"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XCVIII._98"><span class="label">[XCVIII.]</span></a> Ασφαλέστατος καὶ ῥήϊστος, securissima et facillima.&mdash;<i>Hippoc.</i></p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_XCIX._99" id="Footnote_XCIX._99"></a><a href="#FNanchor_XCIX._99"><span class="label">[XCIX.]</span></a> Pro febre quartana raro sonat campana.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_C._100" id="Footnote_C._100"></a><a href="#FNanchor_C._100"><span class="label">[C.]</span></a> Cardan in his <i>Encomium Podagrae</i> reckoneth this among
the <i>Dona Podagræ</i>, that they are delivered thereby from the
phthisis and stone in the bladder.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_CI._101" id="Footnote_CI._101"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CI._101"><span class="label">[CI.]</span></a> Hippoc, <i>de Insomniis</i></p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_CII._102" id="Footnote_CII._102"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CII._102"><span class="label">[CII.]</span></a> Tabes maxime contingunt ab anno decimo octavo and trigesi
mum quintum.&mdash;<i>Hippoc.</i></p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_CIII._103" id="Footnote_CIII._103"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CIII._103"><span class="label">[CIII.]</span></a> A sound child cut out of the body of the mother.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_CIV._104" id="Footnote_CIV._104"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CIV._104"><span class="label">[CIV.]</span></a> Natos ad flumina primum deferimus sævoque gelu dura
mus et undis.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_CV._105" id="Footnote_CV._105"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CV._105"><span class="label">[CV.]</span></a> Julii Cæsaris Scaligeri quod fuit.&mdash;<i>Joseph. Scaliger in vita
patris.</i></p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_CVI._106" id="Footnote_CVI._106"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CVI._106"><span class="label">[CVI.]</span></a> Summum nec metuas diem nec optes.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_CVII._107" id="Footnote_CVII._107"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CVII._107"><span class="label">[CVII.]</span></a> Who upon some accounts, and tradition, is said to have
lived thirty years after he was raised by our Saviour.&mdash;<i>Baronius.</i></p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_CVIII._108" id="Footnote_CVIII._108"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CVIII._108"><span class="label">[CVIII.]</span></a> In the speech of Vulteius in Lucan, animating his soldiers
in a great struggle to kill one another.&mdash;“Decernite letum,
et metus omnis abest, cupias quodcumque necesse est.” “All
fear is over, do but resolve to die, and make your desires meet
necessity.”&mdash;<i>Phars.</i> iv. 486.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_CIX._109" id="Footnote_CIX._109"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CIX._109"><span class="label">[CIX.]</span></a> Wisdom, cap. iv.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_CX._110" id="Footnote_CX._110"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CX._110"><span class="label">[CX.]</span></a> Through the Pacifick Sea with a constant gale from the east.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_CXI._111" id="Footnote_CXI._111"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CXI._111"><span class="label">[CXI.]</span></a> Who is said to have castrated himself.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_CXII._112" id="Footnote_CXII._112"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CXII._112"><span class="label">[CXII.]</span></a> Iræ furor brevis est.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_CXIII._113" id="Footnote_CXIII._113"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CXIII._113"><span class="label">[CXIII.]</span></a> See Aristotle’s Ethics, chapter Magnanimity.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_CXIV._114" id="Footnote_CXIV._114"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CXIV._114"><span class="label">[CXIV.]</span></a> Holy, holy, holy.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_CXV._115" id="Footnote_CXV._115"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CXV._115"><span class="label">[CXV.]</span></a> Even when the days are shortest.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_CXVI._116" id="Footnote_CXVI._116"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CXVI._116"><span class="label">[CXVI.]</span></a> Alluding to the tower of oblivion, mentioned by Procopius,
which was the name of a tower of imprisonment among
the Persians; whoever was put therein was as it were buried
alive, and it was death for any but to name him.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_CXVII._117" id="Footnote_CXVII._117"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CXVII._117"><span class="label">[CXVII.]</span></a> St Matt. xi.</p></div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a name="Footnote_CXVIII._118" id="Footnote_CXVIII._118"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CXVIII._118"><span class="label">[CXVIII.]</span></a> Ovation, a petty and minor kind of triumph.</p></div>
</div>

<hr class="full" />

<div class="transnote">

<p class="large center"><a id="Transcribers_Note"></a>Transcriber's Note</p>

<p>The following errata have been corrected:</p>

<ul><li>p. viii "coffer of gold." changed to "coffer of gold.”"</li>

<li>p. 31 "Bevis." missing endnote anchor inserted and following anchor renumbered</li>

<li>p. 32 "Pantagruel's library," extraneous endnote anchor removed</li>

<li>p. 56 "comtemplations." changed to "contemplations."</li>

<li>p. 93 "that si" changed to "that is"</li>

<li>p. 117 "Egyptains" changed to "Egyptians"</li>

<li>p. 120 "Egyptains" changed to "Egyptians"</li>

<li>p. 148 "aprehension" changed to "apprehension"</li>

<li>p. 162 "viii 809" changed to "viii. 809"</li>

<li>p. 176 "limped" changed to "limpid"</li>

<li>p. 180 (note) "Decernite lethum" changed to "Decernite letum"</li>

<li>p. 180 (note) "quodcunqne" changed to "quodcumque"</li>

<li>p. 186 "Socrates," extraneous endnote anchor removed</li>

<li>p. 187 "all things.’" changed to "all things.”"</li></ul>


</div>








<pre>





End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Religio Medici, Hydriotaphia, and the
Letter to a Friend, by Thomas Browne

*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RELIGIO MEDICI ***

***** This file should be named 586-h.htm or 586-h.zip *****
This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
        http://www.gutenberg.org/5/8/586/

Produced by Henry Flower and Judith Boss, Omaha, Nebraska

Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will
be renamed.

Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright
law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,
so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United
States without permission and without paying copyright
royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part
of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm
concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark,
and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive
specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this
eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook
for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports,
performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given
away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks
not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the
trademark license, especially commercial redistribution.

START: FULL LICENSE

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK

To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full
Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at
www.gutenberg.org/license.

Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works

1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or
destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your
possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a
Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound
by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the
person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph
1.E.8.

1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this
agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.

1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the
Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection
of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual
works in the collection are in the public domain in the United
States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the
United States and you are located in the United States, we do not
claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing,
displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as
all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope
that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting
free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm
works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the
Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily
comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the
same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when
you share it without charge with others.

1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are
in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States,
check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this
agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing,
distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any
other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no
representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any
country outside the United States.

1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other
immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear
prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work
on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed,
performed, viewed, copied or distributed:

  This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
  most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no
  restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
  under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
  eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the
  United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you
  are located before using this ebook.

1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is
derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not
contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the
copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in
the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are
redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply
either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or
obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm
trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any
additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms
will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works
posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the
beginning of this work.

1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.

1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.

1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including
any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access
to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format
other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official
version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site
(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense
to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means
of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain
Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the
full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.

1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
provided that

* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
  the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
  you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed
  to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has
  agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project
  Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid
  within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are
  legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty
  payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project
  Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in
  Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg
  Literary Archive Foundation."

* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
  you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
  does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
  License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all
  copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue
  all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm
  works.

* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of
  any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
  electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of
  receipt of the work.

* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
  distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.

1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than
are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing
from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The
Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm
trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.

1.F.

1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project
Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may
contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate
or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or
other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or
cannot be read by your equipment.

1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.

1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium
with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you
with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in
lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person
or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second
opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If
the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing
without further opportunities to fix the problem.

1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO
OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT
LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of
damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement
violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the
agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or
limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or
unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the
remaining provisions.

1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in
accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the
production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses,
including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of
the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this
or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or
additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any
Defect you cause.

Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm

Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of
computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It
exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations
from people in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future
generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see
Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at
www.gutenberg.org Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by
U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.

The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the
mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its
volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous
locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt
Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to
date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and
official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact

For additional contact information:

    Dr. Gregory B. Newby
    Chief Executive and Director
    gbnewby@pglaf.org

Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND
DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular
state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To
donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate

Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works.

Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project
Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be
freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and
distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of
volunteer support.

Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in
the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not
necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper
edition.

Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search
facility: www.gutenberg.org

This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.



</pre>

</body>
</html>
generated by cgit v1.2.3 (git 2.25.1) at 2026-02-26 19:15:38 +0000