No More Learning

For as for the body itself, (the subject
of death) wouldest thou know the vileness of it? Turn it about that
thou mayest behold it the worst sides upwards as well, as in its more
ordinary pleasant shape; how doth it look, when it is old and withered?
when sick and pained? when in the act of lust, and fornication? And
as for fame. This life is short. Both he that praiseth, and he that is
praised; he that remembers, and he that is remembered, will soon be dust
and ashes. Besides, it is but in one corner of this part of the world
that thou art praised; and yet in this corner, thou hast not the joint
praises of all men; no nor scarce of any one constantly. And yet the
whole earth itself, what is it but as one point, in regard of the whole
world?

XX. That which must be the subject of thy consideration, is either the
matter itself, or the dogma, or the operation, or the true sense and
signification.

XXI. Most justly have these things happened unto thee: why dost not
thou amend? O but thou hadst rather become good to-morrow, than to be
so to-day.

XXII. Shall I do it? I will; so the end of my action be to do good unto
men. Doth anything by way of cross or adversity happen unto me? I accept
it, with reference unto the Gods, and their providence; the fountain of
all things, from which whatsoever comes to pass, doth hang and depend.

XXIII. By one action judge of the rest: this bathing which usually takes
up so much of our time, what is it? Oil, sweat, filth; or the sordes of
the body: an excrementitious viscosity, the excrements of oil and other
ointments used about the body, and mixed with the sordes of the body:
all base and loathsome. And such almost is every part of our life;
and every worldly object.

XXIV. Lucilla buried Verus; then was Lucilla herself buried by others.
So Secunda Maximus, then Secunda herself. So Epitynchanus, Diotimus;
then Epitynchanus himself. So Antoninus Pius, Faustina his wife; then
Antoninus himself. This is the course of the world. First Celer,
Adrianus; then Adrianus himself. And those austere ones; those that
foretold other men's deaths; those that were so proud and stately, where
are they now? Those austere ones I mean, such as were Charax, and
Demetrius the Platonic, and Eudaemon, and others like unto those. They
were all but for one day; all dead and gone long since. Some of them no
sooner dead, than forgotten. Others soon turned into fables. Of others,
even that which was fabulous, is now long since forgotten. This
thereafter thou must remember, that whatsoever thou art compounded of,
shall soon be dispersed, and that thy life and breath, or thy soul,
shall either be no more or shall ranslated (sp. ), and appointed to some
certain place and station.

XXV. The true joy of a man, is to do that which properly belongs unto a
man. That which is most proper unto a man, is, first, to be kindly
affected towards them that are of the same kind and nature as he is
himself to contemn all sensual motions and appetites, to discern rightly
all plausible fancies and imaginations, to contemplate the nature of the
universe; both it, and things that are done in it. In which kind of
contemplation three several relations are to be observed The first, to
the apparent secondary cause. The Second to the first original cause,
God, from whom originally proceeds whatsoever doth happen in the world.
The third and last, to them that we live and converse with: what use may
be made of it, to their use and benefit.

XXVI. If pain be an evil, either it is in regard of the body; (and that
cannot be, because the body of itself is altogether insensible:) or in
regard of the soul But it is in the power of the soul, to preserve her
own peace and tranquillity, and not to suppose that pain is evil. For
all judgment and deliberation; all prosecution, or aversation is from
within, whither the sense of evil (except it be let in by opinion)
cannot penetrate.

XXVII. Wipe off all idle fancies, and say unto thyself incessantly; Now
if I will, it is in my power to keep out of this my soul all wickedness,
all lust, and concupiscences, all trouble and confusion. But on the
contrary to behold and consider all things according to their true
nature, and to carry myself towards everything according to its true
worth. Remember then this thy power that nature hath given thee.

XXVIII. Whether thou speak in the Senate or whether thou speak to any
particular, let thy speech In always grave and modest. But thou must
not openly and vulgarly observe that sound and exact form of speaking,
concerning that which is truly good and truly civil; the vanity of
the world, and of worldly men: which otherwise truth and reason doth
prescribe.

XXIX. Augustus his court; his wife, his daughter, his nephews, his
sons-in-law his sister, Agrippa, his kinsmen, his domestics, his
friends; Areus, Maecenas, his slayers of beasts for sacrifice and
divination: there thou hast the death of a whole court together. Proceed
now on to the rest that have been since that of Augustus. Hath death
dwelt with them otherwise, though so many and so stately whilst they
lived, than it doth use to deal with any one particular man? Consider
now the death of a whole kindred and family, as of that of the Pompeys,
as that also that useth to be written upon some monuments, HE WAS THE
LAST OF HIS OWN KINDRED. O what care did his predecessors take, that
they might leave a successor, yet behold at last one or other must of
necessity be THE LAST. Here again therefore consider the death of a
whole kindred.

XXX. Contract thy whole life to the measure and proportion of one single
action. And if in every particular action thou dost perform what is
fitting to the utmost of thy power, let it suffice thee. And who can
hinder thee, but that thou mayest perform what is fitting? But there may
be some outward let and impediment. Not any, that can hinder thee, but
that whatsoever thou dost, thou may do it, justly, temperately, and
with the praise of God. Yea, but there may be somewhat, whereby some
operation or other of thine may be hindered. And then, with that very
thing that doth hinder, thou mayest he well pleased, and so by this
gentle and equanimious conversion of thy mind unto that which may be,
instead of that which at first thou didst intend, in the room of that
former action there succeedeth another, which agrees as well with this
contraction of thy life, that we now speak of.

XXXI. Receive temporal blessings without ostentation, when they are sent
and thou shalt be able to part with them with all readiness and facility
when they are taken from thee again.

XXXII. If ever thou sawest either a hand, or a foot, or a head lying by
itself, in some place or other, as cut off from the rest of the body,
such must thou conceive him to make himself, as much as in him lieth,
that either is offended with anything that is happened, (whatsoever it
be) and as it were divides himself from it: or that commits anything
against the natural law of mutual correspondence, and society among men:
or, he that, commits any act of uncharitableness. Whosoever thou art,
thou art such, thou art cast forth I know not whither out of the general
unity, which is according to nature. Thou went born indeed a part, but
now thou hast cut thyself off. However, herein is matter of joy and
exultation, that thou mayst be united again. God hath not granted
it unto any other part, that once separated and cut off, it might be
reunited, and come together again. But, behold, that GOODNESS how great
and immense it is! which hath so much esteemed MAN. As at first he
was so made, that he needed not, except he would himself, have divided
himself from the whole; so once divided and cut off, IT hath so provided
and ordered it, that if he would himself, he might return, and grow
together again, and be admitted into its former rank and place of a
part, as he was before.

XXXIII. As almost all her other faculties and properties the nature of
the universe hath imparted unto every reasonable creature, so this in
particular we have received from her, that as whatsoever doth oppose
itself unto her, and doth withstand her in her purposes and intentions,
she doth, though against its will and intention, bring it about to
herself, to serve herself of it in the execution of her own destinated
ends; and so by this though not intended co-operation of it with herself
makes it part of herself whether it will or no. So may every reasonable
creature, what crosses and impediments soever it meets with in the
course of this mortal life, it may use them as fit and proper objects,
to the furtherance of whatsoever it intended and absolutely proposed
unto itself as its natural end and happiness.

XXXIV. Let not the general representation unto thyself of the
wretchedness of this our mortal life, trouble thee. Let not thy mind
wander up and down, and heap together in her thoughts the many troubles
and grievous calamities which thou art as subject unto as any other. But
as everything in particular doth happen, put this question unto thyself,
and say: What is it that in this present matter, seems unto thee so
intolerable? For thou wilt be ashamed to confess it. Then upon this
presently call to mind, that neither that which is future, nor that
which is past can hurt thee; but that only which is present. (And that
also is much lessened, if thou dost lightly circumscribe it:) and then
check thy mind if for so little a while, (a mere instant), it cannot
hold out with patience.

XXXV. What? are either Panthea or Pergamus abiding to this day by their
masters' tombs? or either Chabrias or Diotimus by that of Adrianus? O
foolery! For what if they did, would their masters be sensible of It? or
if sensible, would they be glad of it? or if glad, were these immortal?
Was not it appointed unto them also (both men and women,) to become
old in time, and then to die? And these once dead, what would become of
these former? And when all is done, what is all this for, but for a mere
bag of blood and corruption?

XXXVI. If thou beest quick-sighted, be so in matter of judgment, and
best discretion, saith he.

XXXVII. In the whole constitution of man, I see not any virtue contrary
to justice, whereby it may be resisted and opposed. But one whereby
pleasure and voluptuousness may be resisted and opposed, I see:
continence.

XXXVIII. If thou canst but withdraw conceit and opinion concerning that
which may seem hurtful and offensive, thou thyself art as safe, as safe
may be. Thou thyself? and who is that? Thy reason. 'Yea, but I am not
reason. ' Well, be it so. However, let not thy reason or understanding
admit of grief, and if there be anything in thee that is grieved, let
that, (whatsoever it be,) conceive its own grief, if it can.

XXXIX. That which is a hindrance of the senses, is an evil to the
sensitive nature. That which is a hindrance of the appetitive and
prosecutive faculty, is an evil to the sensitive nature. As of the
sensitive, so of the vegetative constitution, whatsoever is a hindrance
unto it, is also in that respect an evil unto the same. And so likewise,
whatsoever is a hindrance unto the mind and understanding, must needs
be the proper evil of the reasonable nature. Now apply all those things
unto thyself. Do either pain or pleasure seize on thee? Let the senses
look to that. Hast thou met with Some obstacle or other in thy purpose
and intention? If thou didst propose without due reservation and
exception now hath thy reasonable part received a blow indeed But if in
general thou didst propose unto thyself what soever might be, thou art
not thereby either hurt, nor properly hindered. For in those things that
properly belong unto the mind, she cannot be hindered by any man. It
is not fire, nor iron; nor the power of a tyrant nor the power of a
slandering tongue; nor anything else that can penetrate into her.

XL. If once round and solid, there is no fear that ever it will change.

XLI. Why should I grieve myself; who never did willingly grieve any
other! One thing rejoices one and another thing another. As for me, this
is my joy, if my understanding be right and sound, as neither averse
from any man, nor refusing any of those things which as a man I am
subject unto; if I can look upon all things in the world meekly and
kindly; accept all things and carry myself towards everything according
to to true worth of the thing itself.

XLII. This time that is now present, bestow thou upon thyself. They that
rather hunt for fame after death, do not consider, that those men that
shall be hereafter, will be even such, as these whom now they can so
hardly bear with. And besides they also will be mortal men. But to
consider the thing in itself, if so many with so many voices, shall make
such and such a sound, or shall have such and such an opinion concerning
thee, what is it to thee?

XLIII. Take me and throw me where thou wilt: I am indifferent. For there
also I shall have that spirit which is within me propitious; that is
well pleased and fully contented both in that constant disposition, and
with those particular actions, which to its own proper constitution are
suitable and agreeable.

XLIV. Is this then a thing of that worth, that for it my soul should
suffer, and become worse than it was? as either basely dejected, or
disordinately affected, or confounded within itself, or terrified? What
can there be, that thou shouldest so much esteem?

XLV. Nothing can happen unto thee, which is not incidental unto thee, as
thou art a man. As nothing can happen either to an ox, a vine, or to
a stone, which is not incidental unto them; unto every one in his own
kind. If therefore nothing can happen unto anything, which is not both
usual and natural; why art thou displeased? Sure the common nature
of all would not bring anything upon any, that were intolerable. If
therefore it be a thing external that causes thy grief, know, that it is
not that properly that doth cause it, but thine own conceit and opinion
concerning the thing: which thou mayest rid thyself of, when thou wilt.
But if it be somewhat that is amiss in thine own disposition, that doth
grieve thee, mayest thou not rectify thy moral tenets and opinions. But
if it grieve thee, that thou doest not perform that which seemeth unto
thee right and just, why doest not thou choose rather to perform it than
to grieve? But somewhat that is stronger than thyself doth hinder thee.
Let it not grieve thee then, if it be not thy fault that the thing is
not performed. 'Yea but it is a thing of that nature, as that thy life
is not worth the while, except it may be performed. ' If it be so, upon
condition that thou be kindly and lovingly disposed towards all men,
thou mayest be gone. For even then, as much as at any time, art thou in
a very good estate of performance, when thou doest die in charity with
those, that are an obstacle unto thy performance.

XLVI. Remember that thy mind is of that nature as that it becometh
altogether unconquerable, when once recollected in herself, she seeks no
other content than this, that she cannot be forced: yea though it so
fall out, that it be even against reason itself, that it cloth bandy.
How much less when by the help of reason she is able to judge of things
with discretion? And therefore let thy chief fort and place of defence
be, a mind free from passions. A stronger place, (whereunto to make his
refuge, and so to become impregnable) and better fortified than this,
hath no man. He that seeth not this is unlearned. He that seeth it, and
betaketh not himself to this place of refuge, is unhappy.

XLVII. Keep thyself to the first bare and naked apprehensions of things,
as they present themselves unto thee, and add not unto them. It is
reported unto thee, that such a one speaketh ill of thee. Well; that he
speaketh ill of thee, so much is reported. But that thou art hurt
thereby, is not reported: that is the addition of opinion, which thou
must exclude. I see that my child is sick. That he is sick, I see, but
that he is in danger of his life also, I see it not. Thus thou must use
to keep thyself to the first motions and apprehensions of things, as
they present themselves outwardly; and add not unto them from within
thyself through mere conceit and opinion. Or rather add unto them: hut
as one that understandeth the true nature of all things that happen in
the world.

XLVIII. Is the cucumber bitter? set it away. Brambles are in the way?
avoid them. Let this suffice. Add not presently speaking unto thyself,
What serve these things for in the world? For, this, one that is
acquainted with the mysteries of nature, will laugh at thee for it; as a
carpenter would or a shoemaker, if meeting in either of their shops with
some shavings, or small remnants of their work, thou shouldest blame
them for it. And yet those men, it is not for want of a place where to
throw them that they keep them in their shops for a while: but the
nature of the universe hath no such out-place; but herein doth consist
the wonder of her art and skill, that she having once circumscribed
herself within some certain bounds and limits, whatsoever is within her
that seems either corrupted, or old, or unprofitable, she can change it
into herself, and of these very things can make new things; so that she
needeth not to seek elsewhere out of herself either for a new supply of
matter and substance, or for a place where to throw out whatsoever is
irrecoverably putrid and corrupt. Thus she, as for place, so for matter
and art, is herself sufficient unto herself.

XLIX. Not to be slack and negligent; or loose, and wanton in thy
actions; nor contentious, and troublesome in thy conversation; nor to
rove and wander in thy fancies and imaginations. Not basely to contract
thy soul; nor boisterously to sally out with it, or furiously to launch
out as it were, nor ever to want employment.

L. 'They kill me, they cut my flesh; they persecute my person with
curses. ' What then? May not thy mind for all this continue pure,
prudent, temperate, just? As a fountain of sweet and clear water, though
she be cursed by some stander by, yet do her springs nevertheless still
run as sweet and clear as before; yea though either dirt or dung be
thrown in, yet is it no sooner thrown, than dispersed, and she cleared.
She cannot be dyed or infected by it. What then must I do, that I
may have within myself an overflowing fountain, and not a well? Beget
thyself by continual pains and endeavours to true liberty with charity,
and true simplicity and modesty.

LI. He that knoweth not what the world is, knoweth not where he himself
is. And he that knoweth not what the world was made for, cannot possibly
know either what are the qualities, or what is the nature of the world.
Now he that in either of these is to seek, for what he himself was made
is ignorant also. What then dost thou think of that man, who proposeth
unto himself, as a matter of great moment, the noise and applause
of men, who both where they are, and what they are themselves, are
altogether ignorant? Dost thou desire to be commended of that man, who
thrice in one hour perchance, doth himself curse himself?
Dost thou
desire to please him, who pleaseth not himself? or dost thou think that
he pleaseth himself, who doth use to repent himself almost of everything
that he doth?

LII. Not only now henceforth to have a common breath, or to hold
correspondency of breath, with that air, that compasseth us about; but
to have a common mind, or to hold correspondency of mind also with that
rational substance, which compasseth all things. For, that also is of
itself, and of its own nature (if a man can but draw it in as he should)
everywhere diffused; and passeth through all things, no less than the
air doth, if a man can but suck it in.

LIII. Wickedness in general doth not hurt the world. Particular
wickedness doth not hurt any other: only unto him it is hurtful,
whosoever he be that offends, unto whom in great favour and mercy it is
granted, that whensoever he himself shall but first desire it, he may be
presently delivered of it. Unto my free-will my neighbour's free-will,
whoever he be, (as his life, or his bode), is altogether indifferent.
For though we are all made one for another, yet have our minds and
understandings each of them their own proper and limited jurisdiction.
For else another man's wickedness might be my evil which God would not
have, that it might not be in another man's power to make me unhappy:
which nothing now can do but mine own wickedness.

LIV. The sun seemeth to be shed abroad. And indeed it is diffused but
not effused. For that diffusion of it is a [-r~Jo-tc] or an extension.
For therefore are the beams of it called [~i-~m'~] from the word
[~KTEIVEO-Oa,,] to be stretched out and extended. Now what a sunbeam is,
thou mayest know if thou observe the light of the sun, when through some
narrow hole it pierceth into some room that is dark. For it is always in
a direct line. And as by any solid body, that it meets with in the
way that is not penetrable by air, it is divided and abrupted, and yet
neither slides off, or falls down, but stayeth there nevertheless: such
must the diffusion in the mind be; not an effusion, but an extension.
What obstacles and impediments soever she meeteth within her way, she
must not violently, and by way of an impetuous onset light upon them;
neither must she fall down; but she must stand, and give light unto that
which doth admit of it. For as for that which doth not, it is its own
fault and loss, if it bereave itself of her light.

LV. He that feareth death, either feareth that he shall have no sense at
all, or that his senses will not be the same. Whereas, he should rather
comfort himself, that either no sense at all, and so no sense of evil;
or if any sense, then another life, and so no death properly.

LVI. All men are made one for another: either then teach them better, or
bear with them.

LVII. The motion of the mind is not as the motion of a dart. For
the mind when it is wary and cautelous, and by way of diligent
circumspection turneth herself many ways, may then as well be said to
go straight on to the object, as when it useth no such circumspection.


LVIII. To pierce and penetrate into the estate of every one's
understanding that thou hast to do with: as also to make the estate of
thine own open, and penetrable to any other.




THE NINTH BOOK

I. He that is unjust, is also impious. For the nature of the universe,
having made all reasonable creatures one for another, to the end that
they should do one another good; more or less according to the several
persons and occasions but in nowise hurt one another: it is manifest
that he that doth transgress against this her will, is guilty of impiety
towards the most ancient and venerable of all the deities. For the
nature of the universe, is the nature the common parent of all, and
therefore piously to be observed of all things that are, and that which
now is, to whatsoever first was, and gave it its being, hath relation
of blood and kindred. She is also called truth and is the first cause
of all truths. He therefore that willingly and wittingly doth lie, is
impious in that he doth receive, and so commit injustice: but he that
against his will, in that he disagreeth from the nature of the universe,
and in that striving with the nature of the world he doth in his
particular, violate the general order of the world. For he doth no
better than strive and war against it, who contrary to his own nature
applieth himself to that which is contrary to truth. For nature had
before furnished him with instincts and opportunities sufficient for the
attainment of it; which he having hitherto neglected, is not now able
to discern that which is false from that which is true. He also that
pursues after pleasures, as that which is truly good and flies from
pains, as that which is truly evil: is impious. For such a one must of
necessity oftentimes accuse that common nature, as distributing many
things both unto the evil, and unto the good, not according to the
deserts of either: as unto the bad oftentimes pleasures, and the causes
of pleasures; so unto the good, pains, and the occasions of pains.
Again, he that feareth pains and crosses in this world, feareth some of
those things which some time or other must needs happen in the world.
And that we have already showed to be impious. And he that pursueth
after pleasures, will not spare, to compass his desires, to do that
which is unjust, and that is manifestly impious. Now those things which
unto nature are equally indifferent (for she had not created both, both
pain and pleasure, if both had not been unto her equally indifferent):
they that will live according to nature, must in those things (as being
of the same mind and disposition that she is) be as equally indifferent.
Whosoever therefore in either matter of pleasure and pain; death and
life; honour and dishonour, (which things nature in the administration
of the world, indifferently doth make use of), is not as indifferent,
it is apparent that he is impious. When I say that common nature
doth indifferently make use of them, my meaning is, that they happen
indifferently in the ordinary course of things, which by a necessary
consequence, whether as principal or accessory, come to pass in the
world, according to that first and ancient deliberation of Providence,
by which she from some certain beginning, did resolve upon the creation
of such a world, conceiving then in her womb as it were some certain
rational generative seeds and faculties of things future, whether
subjects, changes, successions; both such and such, and just so many.

II. It were indeed more happy and comfortable, for a man to depart out
of this world, having lived all his life long clear from all falsehood,
dissimulation, voluptuousness, and pride. But if this cannot be, yet it
is some comfort for a man joyfully to depart as weary, and out of love
with those; rather than to desire to live, and to continue long in those
wicked courses. Hath not yet experience taught thee to fly from the
plague? For a far greater plague is the corruption of the mind, than any
certain change and distemper of the common air can be. This is a plague
of creatures, as they are living creatures; but that of men as they are
men or reasonable.

III. Thou must not in matter of death carry thyself scornfully, but as
one that is well pleased with it, as being one of those things that
nature hath appointed. For what thou dost conceive of these, of a boy to
become a young man, to wax old, to grow, to ripen, to get teeth, or a
beard, or grey hairs to beget, to bear, or to be delivered; or what
other action soever it be, that is natural unto man according to the
several seasons of his life; such a thing is it also to be dissolved. It
is therefore the part of a wise man, in matter of death, not in any wise
to carry himself either violently, or proudly but patiently to wait for
it, as one of nature's operations: that with the same mind as now thou
dost expect when that which yet is but an embryo in thy wife's belly
shall come forth, thou mayst expect also when thy soul shall fall off
from that outward coat or skin: wherein as a child in the belly it lieth
involved and shut up. But thou desirest a more popular, and though not
so direct and philosophical, yet a very powerful and penetrative recipe
against the fear of death, nothing can make they more willing to part
with thy life, than if thou shalt consider, both what the subjects
themselves are that thou shalt part with, and what manner of disposition
thou shalt no more have to do with. True it is, that, offended with them
thou must not be by no means, but take care of them, and meekly bear
with them However, this thou mayst remember, that whensoever it happens
that thou depart, it shall not be from men that held the same opinions
that thou dost. For that indeed, (if it were so) is the only thing that
might make thee averse from death, and willing to continue here, if it
were thy hap to live with men that had obtained the same belief that
thou hast. But now, what a toil it is for thee to live with men of
different opinions, thou seest: so that thou hast rather occasion to
say, Hasten, I thee pray, O Death; lest I also in time forget myself.

IV. He that sinneth, sinneth unto himself. He that is unjust, hurts
himself, in that he makes himself worse than he was before. Not he only
that committeth, but he also that omitteth something, is oftentimes
unjust.

V. If my present apprehension of the object be right, and my present
action charitable, and this, towards whatsoever doth proceed from God,
be my present disposition, to be well pleased with it, it sufficeth.

VI. To wipe away fancy, to use deliberation, to quench concupiscence, to
keep the mind free to herself.

VII. Of all unreasonable creatures, there is but one unreasonable soul;
and of all that are reasonable, but one reasonable soul, divided betwixt
them all. As of all earthly things there is but one earth, and but one
light that we see by; and but one air that we breathe in, as many as
either breathe or see. Now whatsoever partakes of some common thing,
naturally affects and inclines unto that whereof it is part, being of
one kind and nature with it. Whatsoever is earthly, presseth downwards
to the common earth. Whatsoever is liquid, would flow together. And
whatsoever is airy, would be together likewise. So that without some
obstacle, and some kind of violence, they cannot well be kept asunder.
Whatsoever is fiery, doth not only by reason of the elementary fire tend
upwards; but here also is so ready to join, and to burn together, that
whatsoever doth want sufficient moisture to make resistance, is easily
set on fire. Whatsoever therefore is partaker of that reasonable common
nature, naturally doth as much and more long after his own kind. For by
how much in its own nature it excels all other things, by so much more
is it desirous to be joined and united unto that, which is of its own
nature. As for unreasonable creatures then, they had not long been, but
presently begun among them swarms, and flocks, and broods of young ones,
and a kind of mutual love and affection. For though but unreasonable,
yet a kind of soul these had, and therefore was that natural desire of
union more strong and intense in them, as in creatures of a more
excellent nature, than either in plants, or stones, or trees. But among
reasonable creatures, begun commonwealths, friendships, families, public
meetings, and even in their wars, conventions, and truces. Now among
them that were yet of a more excellent nature, as the stars and planets,
though by their nature far distant one from another, yet even among them
began some mutual correspondency and unity. So proper is it to
excellency in a high degree to affect unity, as that even in things so
far distant, it could operate unto a mutual sympathy. But now behold,
what is now come to pass. Those creatures that are reasonable, are now
the only creatures that have forgotten their natural affection and
inclination of one towards another. Among them alone of all other things
that are of one kind, there is not to be found a general disposition to
flow together. But though they fly from nature, yet are they stopt in
their course, and apprehended. Do they what they can, nature doth
prevail. And so shalt thou confess, if thou dost observe it. For sooner
mayst thou find a thing earthly, where no earthly thing is, than find a
man that naturally can live by himself alone.

VIII. Man, God, the world, every one in their kind, bear some fruits.
All things have their proper time to bear. Though by custom, the word
itself is in a manner become proper unto the vine, and the like, yet is
it so nevertheless, as we have said. As for reason, that beareth both
common fruit for the use of others; and peculiar, which itself doth
enjoy. Reason is of a diffusive nature, what itself is in itself, it
begets in others, and so doth multiply.

IX. Either teach them better if it be in thy power; or if it be not,
remember that for this use, to bear with them patiently, was mildness
and goodness granted unto thee. The Gods themselves are good unto such;
yea and in some things, (as in matter of health, of wealth, of honour,)
are content often to further their endeavours: so good and gracious are
they. And mightest thou not be so too? or, tell me, what doth hinder
thee?

X. Labour not as one to whom it is appointed to be wretched, nor as one
that either would be pitied, or admired; but let this be thine only care
and desire; so always and in all things to prosecute or to forbear, as
the law of charity, or mutual society doth require.

XI. This day I did come out of all my trouble. Nay I have cast out all
my trouble; it should rather be for that which troubled thee, whatsoever
it was, was not without anywhere that thou shouldest come out of it, but
within in thine own opinions, from whence it must be cast out, before
thou canst truly and constantly be at ease.

XII. All those things, for matter of experience are usual and ordinary;
for their continuance but for a day; and for their matter, most base and
filthy. As they were in the days of those whom we have buried, so are
they now also, and no otherwise.

XIII. The things themselves that affect us, they stand without doors,
neither knowing anything themselves nor able to utter anything unto
others concerning themselves. What then is it, that passeth verdict on
them? The understanding.

XIV. As virtue and wickedness consist not in passion, but in action; so
neither doth the true good or evil of a reasonable charitable man
consist in passion, but in operation and action.

XV. To the stone that is cast up, when it comes down it is no hurt unto
it; as neither benefit, when it doth ascend.

XVI. Sift their minds and understandings, and behold what men they be,
whom thou dost stand in fear of what they shall judge of thee, what they
themselves judge of themselves.

XVII. All things that are in the world, are always in the estate
of alteration. Thou also art in a perpetual change, yea and under
corruption too, in some part: and so is the whole world.

XVIII. it is not thine, but another man's sin. Why should it trouble
thee? Let him look to it, whose sin it is.

XIX. Of an operation and of a purpose there is an ending, or of an
action and of a purpose we say commonly, that it is at an end: from
opinion also there is an absolute cessation, which is as it were the
death of it. In all this there is no hurt. Apply this now to a man's
age, as first, a child; then a youth, then a young man, then an old man;
every change from one age to another is a kind of death And all this
while here no matter of grief yet. Pass now unto that life first, that
which thou livedst under thy grandfather, then under thy mother, then
under thy father. And thus when through the whole course of thy life
hitherto thou hast found and observed many alterations, many changes,
many kinds of endings and cessations, put this question to thyself What
matter of grief or sorrow dost thou find in any of these? Or what doest
thou suffer through any of these? If in none of these, then neither
in the ending and consummation of thy whole life, which is also but a
cessation and change.

XX. As occasion shall require, either to thine own understanding, or to
that of the universe, or to his, whom thou hast now to do with, let thy
refuge be with all speed. To thine own, that it resolve upon nothing
against justice. To that of the universe, that thou mayest remember,
part of whom thou art. Of his, that thou mayest consider whether in the
estate of ignorance, or of knowledge. And then also must thou call to
mind, that he is thy kinsman.

XXI. As thou thyself, whoever thou art, were made for the perfection and
consummation, being a member of it, of a common society; so must every
action of thine tend to the perfection and consummation of a life that
is truly sociable. What action soever of thine therefore that either
immediately or afar off, hath not reference to the common good, that is
an exorbitant and disorderly action; yea it is seditious; as one among
the people who from such and such a consent and unity, should factiously
divide and separate himself.

XXII. Children's anger, mere babels; wretched souls bearing up dead
bodies, that they may not have their fall so soon: even as it is in that
common dirge song.

XXIII. Go to the quality of the cause from which the effect doth
proceed. Behold it by itself bare and naked, separated from all that is
material. Then consider the utmost bounds of time that that cause, thus
and thus qualified, can subsist and abide.

XXIV. Infinite are the troubles and miseries, that thou hast already
been put to, by reason of this only, because that for all happiness
it did not suffice thee, or, that thou didst not account it sufficient
happiness, that thy understanding did operate according to its natural
constitution.

XXV. When any shall either impeach thee with false accusations, or
hatefully reproach thee, or shall use any such carriage towards thee,
get thee presently to their minds and understandings, and look in them,
and behold what manner of men they be. Thou shalt see, that there is no
such occasion why it should trouble thee, what such as they are think of
thee. Yet must thou love them still, for by nature they are thy friends.
And the Gods themselves, in those things that they seek from them as
matters of great moment, are well content, all manner of ways, as by
dreams and oracles, to help them as well as others.

XXVI. Up and down, from one age to another, go the ordinary things of
the world; being still the same. And either of everything in particular
before it come to pass, the mind of the universe doth consider with
itself and deliberate: and if so, then submit for shame unto the
determination of such an excellent understanding: or once for all it did
resolve upon all things in general; and since that whatsoever happens,
happens by a necessary consequence, and all things indivisibly in a
manner and inseparably hold one of another. In sum, either there is a
God, and then all is well; or if all things go by chance and fortune,
yet mayest thou use thine own providence in those things that concern
thee properly; and then art thou well.

XXVII. Within a while the earth shall cover us all, and then she herself
shall have her change. And then the course will be, from one period of
eternity unto another, and so a perpetual eternity. Now can any man
that shall consider with himself in his mind the several rollings or
successions of so many changes and alterations, and the swiftness of all
these rulings; can he otherwise but contemn in his heart and despise
all worldly things? The cause of the universe is as it were a strong
torrent, it carrieth all away.

XXVIII. And these your professed politicians, the only true practical
philosophers of the world, (as they think of themselves) so full of
affected gravity, or such professed lovers of virtue and honesty, what
wretches be they in very deed; how vile and contemptible in themselves?
O man! what ado doest thou keep? Do what thy nature doth now require.
Resolve upon it, if thou mayest: and take no thought, whether anybody
shall know it or no. Yea, but sayest thou, I must not expect a Plato's
commonwealth. If they profit though never so little, I must be content;
and think much even of that little progress. Doth then any of them
forsake their former false opinions that I should think they profit? For
without a change of opinions, alas! what is all that ostentation, but
mere wretchedness of slavish minds, that groan privately, and yet would
make a show of obedience to reason, and truth? Go too now and tell me
of Alexander and Philippus, and Demetrius Phalereus. Whether they
understood what the common nature requireth, and could rule themselves
or no, they know best themselves. But if they kept a life, and
swaggered; I (God be thanked) am not bound to imitate them. The effect
of true philosophy is, unaffected simplicity and modesty. Persuade me
not to ostentation and vainglory.

XXIX. From some high place as it were to look down, and to behold
here flocks, and there sacrifices, without number; and all kind of
navigation; some in a rough and stormy sea, and some in a calm: the
general differences, or different estates of things, some, that are now
first upon being; the several and mutual relations of those things that
are together; and some other things that are at their last. Their lives
also, who were long ago, and theirs who shall be hereafter, and the
present estate and life of those many nations of barbarians that are
now in the world, thou must likewise consider in thy mind. And how many
there be, who never so much as heard of thy name, how many that will
soon forget it; how many who but even now did commend thee, within a
very little while perchance will speak ill of thee. So that neither
fame, nor honour, nor anything else that this world doth afford, is
worth the while. The sum then of all; whatsoever doth happen unto thee,
whereof God is the cause, to accept it contentedly: whatsoever thou
doest, whereof thou thyself art the cause, to do it justly: which will
be, if both in thy resolution and in thy action thou have no further
end, than to do good unto others, as being that, which by thy natural
constitution, as a man, thou art bound unto.

XXX. Many of those things that trouble and straiten thee, it is in thy
power to cut off, as wholly depending from mere conceit and opinion; and
then thou shalt have room enough.

XXXI. To comprehend the whole world together in thy mind, and the whole
course of this present age to represent it unto thyself, and to fix thy
thoughts upon the sudden change of every particular object. How short
the time is from the generation of anything, unto the dissolution of
the same; but how immense and infinite both that which was before the
generation, and that which after the generation of it shall be. All
things that thou seest, will soon be perished, and they that see their
corruptions, will soon vanish away themselves. He that dieth a hundred
years old, and he that dieth young, shall come all to one.

XXXII. What are their minds and understandings; and what the things that
they apply themselves unto: what do they love, and what do they hate
for? Fancy to thyself the estate of their souls openly to be seen. When
they think they hurt them shrewdly, whom they speak ill of; and when
they think they do them a very good turn, whom they commend and extol: O
how full are they then of conceit, and opinion!

XXXIII.