PARADOXES

1.

_A Defence of Womens Inconſtancy._

That Women are _Inconſtant_, I with any man confeſſe, but that

_Inconſtancy_ is a bad quality, I againſt any man will maintaine: For

every thing as it is one better than another, ſo is it fuller of

_change_; The _Heavens_ themſelves continually turne, the _Starres_

move, the _Moone_ changeth; _Fire_ whirleth, _Ayre_ flyeth, _Water_

ebbs and flowes, the face of the _Earth_ altereth her lookes, _time_

ſtayes not; the Colour that is moſt light, will take moſt dyes: ſo in

Men, they that have the moſt reaſon are the moſt alterable in their

deſignes, and the darkeſt or moſt ignorant, do ſeldomeſt change;

therefore Women changing more than Men, have alſo more _Reaſon_. They

cannot be immutable like ſtockes, like ſtones, like the Earths dull

Center; Gold that lyeth ſtill, ruſteth; Water, corrupteth; Aire that

moveth not, poyſoneth; then why ſhould that which is the perfection of

other things, be imputed to Women as greateſt imperfection? Becauſe

thereby they deceive men. Are not your wits pleaſed with thoſe jeſts,

which coozen your expectation? You can call it Pleaſure to be beguil’d

in troubles, and in the moſt excellent toy in the world, you call it

Treachery: I would you had your _Miſtreſſes_ ſo conſtant, that they

would never change, no not ſo much as their _ſmocks_, then ſhould you

ſee what ſluttiſh vertue, _Conſtancy_ were. _Inconſtancy_ is a moſt

commendable and cleanely quality, and Women in this quality are farre

more abſolute than the Heavens, than the Starres, Moone, or any thing

beneath it; for long obſervation hath pickt certainety out of their

mutability. The Learned are ſo well acquainted with the Starres,

Signes and Planets, that they make them but Characters, to reade the

meaning of the Heaven in his owne forehead. Every ſimple Fellow can

beſpeake the change of the _Moone_ a great while beforehand: but I

would faine have the learnedſt man ſo skilfull, as to tell when the

ſimpleſt Woman meaneth to varie. Learning affords no rules to know,

much leſſe knowledge to rule the minde of a Woman: For as _Philoſophy_

teacheth us, that _Light things doe alwayes tend upwards_, and _heavy

things decline downeward_; Experience teacheth us otherwiſe, that the

diſpoſition of a _Light_ Woman, is to fall downe, the nature of Women

being contrary to all Art and Nature. Women are like _Flies_, which

feed among us at our Table, or _Fleas_ ſucking our very blood, who

leave not our moſt retired places free from their familiarity, yet for

all their fellowſhip will they never bee tamed nor commanded by us.

Women are like the _Sunne_, which is violently carryed one way, yet

hath a proper courſe contrary: ſo though they, by the maſtery of ſome

over-ruling churliſh Husbands, are forced to his Byas, yet have they a

motion of their owne, which their Husbands never know of. It is the

nature of nice and faſtidious mindes to know things onely to bee weary

of them: Women by their ſlye _changeableneſſe_, and pleaſing

doubleneſſe, prevent even the miſlike of thoſe, for they can never be

ſo well knowne, but that there is ſtill more unknowne. Every Woman is

a _Science_; for hee that plods upon a Woman all his life long, ſhall

at length find himſelfe ſhort of the knowledge of her: they are borne

to take downe the pride of wit, and ambition of wiſedome, making

_fooles_ wiſe in the adventuring to winne them, _wiſemen_ fooles in

conceit of loſing their labours; witty men ſtarke mad, being

confounded with their uncertaineties. _Philoſophers_ write againſt

them for ſpight, not deſert, that having attained to ſome knowledge in

all other things, in them onely they know nothing, but are meerely

ignorant: _Active_ and _Experienced_ men raile againſt them, becauſe

they love in their liveleſſe and decrepit age, when all goodneſſe

leaves them. Theſe envious _Libellers_ ballad againſt them, becauſe

having nothing in themſelves able to deſerve their love, they

maliciouſly diſcommend all they cannot obtaine, thinking to make men

beleeve they know much, becauſe they are able to diſpraiſe much, and

rage againſt _Inconſtancy_, when they were never admitted into ſo much

favour as to be forſaken. In mine Opinion ſuch men are happy that

Women are _Inconſtant_, for ſo may they chance to bee beloved of ſome

excellent Women (when it comes to their turne) out of their

_Inconſtancy_ and mutability, though not out of their owne deſert. And

what reaſon is there to clog any Woman with one Man, bee hee never ſo

ſingular? Women had rather, and it is farre better and more Iudiciall

to enjoy all the vertues in ſeverall Men, than but ſome of them in

one, for otherwiſe they loſe their taſte, like divers ſorts of meat

minced together in one diſh: and to have all excellencies in one Man

(if it were poſſible) is _Confuſion_ and _Diverſity_. Now who can

deny, but ſuch as are obſtinately bent to undervalue their worth, are

thoſe that have not ſoule enough to comprehend their excellency, Women

being the moſt excellenteſt Creatures, in that Man is able to ſubject

all things elſe, and to grow wiſe in every thing, but ſtill perſiſts a

foole in Woman? The greateſt _Scholler_, if hee once take a Wife, is

found ſo unlearned, that he muſt begin his _Horne-booke_, and all is

by _Inconſtancy_. To conclude therefore; this name of _Inconſtancy_,

which hath ſo much beene poyſoned with ſlaunders, ought to bee changed

into _variety_, for the which the world is ſo delightfull, _and a

Woman for that the moſt delightfull thing in this world_.

[Decoration]

2.

_That Women ought to paint._

_Fouleneſſe_ is _Lothſome_: can that be ſo which helpes it? who

forbids his Beloved to gird in her waſte? to mend by ſhooing her

uneven lameneſſe? to burniſh her teeth? or to perfume her breath? yet

that the _Face_ bee more preciſely regarded, it concernes more: For as

open confeſſing ſinners are alwaies puniſhed, but the wary and

concealing offenders without witneſſe doe it alſo without puniſhment;

ſo the ſecret parts needs the leſſe reſpect; but of the _Face_,

diſcovered to all Examinations and ſurvayes, there is not too nice a

Iealouſie. Nor doth it onely draw the buſie eyes, but it is ſubject to

the divineſt touch of all, to _kiſſing_, the ſtrange and myſticall

union of ſoules. If ſhee ſhould proſtitute her ſelfe to a more

unworthy Man than thy ſelfe, how earneſtly and juſtly wouldſt thou

exclaime? that for want of this eaſier and ready way of repairing, to

betray her body to ruine and deformity (the tyrannous _Raviſhers_, and

ſodaine _Deflourers_ of all Women) what a heynous Adultery is it? What

thou loveſt in her _face_ is _colour_, and _painting_ gives that, but

thou hateſt it, not becauſe it is, but becauſe thou knoweſt it. Foole,

whom ignorance makes happy; the Starres, the Sunne, the Skye whom thou

admireſt, alas, have no _colour_, but are faire, becauſe they ſeeme to

bee coloured: If this ſeeming will not ſatisfie thee in her, thou haſt

good aſſurance of her _colour_, when thou ſeeſt her _lay_ it on. If

her _face_ bee _painted_ on a Boord or Wall, thou wilt love it, and

the Boord, and the Wall: Canſt thou loath it then when it ſpeakes,

ſmiles, and kiſſes, becauſe it is _painted_? Are wee not more

delighted with ſeeing Birds, Fruites, and Beaſts _painted_ then wee

are with Naturalls? And doe wee not with pleaſure behold the _painted_

ſhape of Monſters and Divels, whom true, wee durſt not regard? Wee

repaire the ruines of our houſes, but firſt cold tempeſts warnes us of

it, and bytes us through it; wee mend the wracke and ſtaines of our

Apparell, but firſt our eyes, and other bodies are offended; but by

this providence of Women, this is prevented. If in _kiſſing_ or

_breathing_ upon her, the _painting_ fall off, thou art angry, wilt

thou be ſo, if it ſticke on? Thou didſt love her, if thou beginneſt to

hate her, then ’tis becauſe ſhee is not _painted_. If thou wilt ſay

now, thou didſt hate her before, thou didſt hate her and love her

together, bee conſtant in ſomething, and love her who ſhewes her great

_love_ to thee, in taking this paines to ſeeme _lovely_ to thee.

[Decoration]

3.

_That by Diſcord things increaſe._

_Nullos eſſe Deos, inane Cœlum

Affirmat Cœlius, probatq; quod ſe

Factum vidit, dum negat hæc, beatum._

So I aſſevere this the more boldly, becauſe while I maintaine it, and

feele the _Contrary repugnancies_ and _adverſe fightings_ of the

_Elements_ in my Body, my Body increaſeth; and whilſt I differ from

common opinions by this _Diſcord_, the number of my _Paradoxes_

increaſeth. All the rich benefits we can frame to our ſelves in

_Concord_, is but an _Even_ conſervation of things; in which

_Evenneſſe_ wee can expect no _change_, no _motion_; therefore no

_increaſe_ or _augmentation_, which is a _member of motion_. And if

this _unity_ and _peace_ can give _increaſe_ to things, how mightily

is _diſcord_ and _war_ to that purpoſe, which are indeed the onely

ordinary _Parents_ of _peace_. _Diſcord_ is never ſo barren that it

affords no fruit; for the _fall_ of one _eſtate_ is at the worſt the

_increaſer_ of another, becauſe it is as impoſſible to finde a

_diſcommodity_ without _advantage_, as to finde _Corruption_ without

_Generation_: But it is the _Nature_ and _Office_ of _Concord_ to

_preſerve_ onely, which property when it leaves, it differs from it

ſelfe, which is the greateſt _diſcord_ of all. All _Victories_ and

_Emperies_ gained by _warre_, and all _Iudiciall_ decidings of doubts

in _peace_, I doe claime children of _Diſcord_. And who can deny but

_Controverſies_ in _Religion_ are growne greater by _diſcord_, and not

the _Controverſie_, but _Religion_ it ſelfe: For in a _troubled

miſery_ Men are alwaies more _Religious_ then in a _ſecure peace_. The

number of _good_ men, the onely charitable nouriſhers of _Concord_,

wee ſee is thinne, and daily melts and waines; but of _bad diſcording_

it is infinite, and growes hourely. Wee are aſcertained of all

_Diſputable_ doubts, onely by _arguing_ and differing in _Opinion_,

and if formall _diſputation_ (which is but a painted, counterfeit, and

diſſembled _diſcord_) can worke us this benefit, what ſhall not a full

and maine _diſcord_ accompliſh? Truely me thinkes I owe a _devotion_,

yea a _ſacrifice_ to _diſcord_, for caſting that _Ball_ upon _Ida_,

and for all that buſineſſe of _Troy_, whom ruin’d I admire more then

_Babylon_, _Rome_, or _Quinzay_, removed _Corners_, not onely

fulfilled with her _fame_, but with _Cities_ and _Thrones_ planted by

her _Fugitives_. Laſtly, between _Cowardice_ and _deſpaire_, _Valour_

is gendred; and ſo the _Diſcord_ of _Extreames_ begets all vertues,

but of the _like things_ there is no iſſue without a miracle:

_Vxor peſſima, peſſimus maritus

Miror tam malè convenire._

Hee wonders that betweene two ſo _like_, there could be any _diſcord_,

yet perchance for all this _diſcord_ there was nere the leſſe

_increaſe_.

[Decoration]

4.

_That good is more common then evill._

I have not been ſo pittifully tired with any _vanity_, as with ſilly

_Old Mens_ exclaiming againſt theſe times, and extolling their owne:

Alas! they betray themſelves, for if the _times_ be _changed_, their

manners have changed them. But their ſenſes are to _pleaſures_, as

_ſick Mens_ taſtes are to _Liquors_; for indeed no _new thing_ is done

in the _world_, all things are what, and as they were, and _Good_ is

as ever it was, more plenteous, and muſt of neceſſity be _more common

then evill_, becauſe it hath this for _nature_ and _perfection_ to bee

_common_. It makes _Love_ to all _Natures_, all, all affect it. So

that in the _Worlds_ early _Infancy_, there was a time when nothing

was _evill_, but if this _World_ ſhall ſuffer _dotage_ in the

extreameſt _crookedneſſe_ thereof, there ſhall be no time when nothing

ſhal be _good_. It dares appeare and ſpread, and gliſter in the

_World_, but _evill_ buries it ſelfe in night and darkneſſe, and is

chaſtiſed and ſuppreſſed when _good_ is cheriſhed and rewarded. And as

_Imbroderers_, _Lapidaries_, and other _Artiſans_, can by all things

adorne their workes; for by adding better things, the better they ſhew

in _Luſh_ and in _Eminency_; ſo _good_ doth not onely proſtrate her

_amiableneſſe_ to all, but refuſes no end, no not of her utter

contrary _evill_, that ſhee may bee the more _common_ to us. For

_euill manners_ are _parents_ of _good Lawes_; and in every _evill_

there is an _excellency_, which (in common ſpeech) we call _good_. For

the faſhions of _habits_, for our moving in _geſtures_, for phraſes in

our _ſpeech_, we ſay they were _good_ as long as they were uſed, that

is, as long as they were _common_; and wee eate, wee walke, onely when

it is, or ſeemes _good_ to doe ſo. All _faire_, all _profitable_, all

_vertuous_, is _good_, and theſe three things I thinke embrace all

things, but their utter _contraries_; of which alſo _faire_ may be

_rich_ and _vertuous_; _poore_ may bee _vertuous_ and _faire_;

_vitious_ may be _faire_ and _rich_; ſo that _good_ hath this good

meanes to be _common_, that ſome ſubjects ſhe can poſſeſſe intirely;

and in ſubjects poyſoned with _evill_, ſhe can humbly ſtoop to

accompany the _evill_. And of _indifferent_ things many things are

become perfectly good by being _common_, as _cuſtomes_ by uſe are made

binding _Lawes_. But I remember nothing that is therefore _ill_,

becauſe it is _common_, but _Women_, of whom alſo; _They that are moſt

common, are the beſt of that Occupation they profeſſe_.

[Decoration]

5.

_That all things kill themſelves._

To affect, yea to effect their owne _death_ all _living_ things are

importuned, not by _Nature_ only which perfects them, but by _Art_ and

_Education_, which perfects her. _Plants_ quickened and inhabited by

the moſt unworthy _ſoule_, which therefore neither _will_ nor _worke_,

affect an _end_, a _perfection_, a _death_; this they ſpend their

_ſpirits_ to attaine, this attained, they languiſh and wither. And by

how much more they are by mans _Induſtry_ warmed, cheriſhed, and

pampered; ſo much the more early they climbe to this _perfection_,

this _death_. And if amongſt _Men_ not to _defend_ be to _kill_, what

a hainous _ſelfe-murther_ is it, not to _defend it ſelfe_. This

_defence_ becauſe _Beaſts_ neglect, they kill themſelves, becauſe they

exceed us in _number_, _ſtrength_, and a _lawleſſe liberty_: yea, of

_Horſes_ and other beaſts, they that inherit _moſt courage_ by being

bred of _gallanteſt parents_, and by _Artificial nurſing_ are

bettered, will runne to their owne _deaths_, neither ſollicited by

_ſpurres_ which they need not, nor by _honour_ which they apprehend

not. If then the _valiant_ kill himſelfe, who can excuſe the _coward_?

Or how ſhall _Man_ bee free from this, ſince the _firſt Man_ taught us

this, except we cannot kill our ſelves, becauſe he kill’d us all. Yet

leſt ſomething ſhould repaire this _Common ruine_, we daily kill our

_bodies_ with _ſurfeits_, and our mindes with _anguiſhes_. Of our

_powers_, _remembring_ kils our _memory_; Of _Affections_, _Luſting_

our _luſt_; Of _vertues_, _Giving_ kils _liberality_. And if theſe

kill themſelves, they do it in their beſt & ſupreme _perfection_: for

after _perfection_ immediately follows _exceſſe_, which changeth the

natures and the names, and makes them not the ſame things. If then the

beſt things kill themſelves ſooneſt, (for no _affection_ endures, and

all things labour to this _perfection_) all travell to their owne

_death_, yea the frame of the whole _World_, if it were poſſible for

_God_ to be _idle_, yet becauſe it _began_, muſt _dye_. Then in this

_idleneſſe_ imagined in _God_, what could kill the _world_ but it

ſelfe, ſince _out of it, nothing is_?

[Decoration]

6.

_That it is poſsible to find ſome vertue in ſome Women._

I am not of that ſeard _Impudence_ that I dare defend _Women_, or

pronounce them good; yet we ſee _Phyſitians_ allow ſome _vertue_ in

every _poyſon_. Alas! why ſhould we except _Women_? ſince certainely,

they are good for _Phyſicke_ at leaſt, ſo as ſome _wine_ is good for a

_feaver_. And though they be the _Occaſioners_ of many ſinnes, they

are alſo the _Puniſhers_ and _Revengers_ of the ſame ſinnes: For I

have ſeldome ſeene one which conſumes his _ſubſtance_ and _body_ upon

them, eſcape _diſeaſes_, or _beggery_; and this is their _Iuſtice._

And if _ſuum cuiq; dare_, bee the fulfilling of all _Civill Iuſtice_,

they are _moſt juſt_; for they deny that which is theirs to no man.

_Tanquam non liceat nulla puella negat._

And who may doubt of great wiſdome in them, that doth but obſerve with

how much labour and cunning our _Iuſticers_ and other _diſpenſers_ of

the _Lawes_ ſtudy to imbrace them: and how zealouſly our _Preachers_

dehort men from them, onely by urging their _ſubtilties_, and

_policies_, and _wiſedome_, which are in them? Or who can deny them a

good meaſure of _Fortitude_, if hee conſider how _valiant men_ they

have overthrowne, and being themſelves overthrowne, how much and how

patiently they _beare_? And though they bee moſt _intemperate_, I care

not, for I undertooke to furniſh them with _ſome vertue_, not with

_all_. _Neceſſity_, which makes even bad things good, prevailes alſo

for them, for wee muſt ſay of them, as of ſome ſharpe pinching

_Lawes_; If men were free from _infirmities_, they were needleſſe.

Theſe or none muſt ſerve for _reaſons_, and it is my great

happineſſe that _Examples_ prove not _Rules_, for to confirme this

_Opinion_, the World yeelds not _one Example._

[Decoration]

7.

_That Old men are more fantaſtike then Young._

Who reads this _Paradox_ but thinks mee more _fantaſtike_ now, than I

was yeſterday, when I did not think thus: And if one day make this

ſenſible change in men, what will the burthen of many yeeres? To bee

_fantaſtike_ in _young men_ is _conceiptfull diſtemperature_, and a

_witty madneſſe_; but in _old men_, whoſe ſenſes are withered, it

becomes _naturall_, therefore more full and perfect. For as when wee

_ſleepe_ our _fancy_ is moſt ſtrong; ſo it is in _age_, which is a

_ſlumber_ of the _deepe ſleepe of death_. They taxe us of

_Inconſtancy_, which in themſelves _young_ they allowed; ſo that

reprooving that which they did approove, their _Inconſtancy_ exceedeth

ours, becauſe they have changed _once more_ then wee. Yea, they are

more idlely buſied in _conceited apparell_ then wee; for we, when we

are _melancholy_, weare _blacke_; when _luſty_, _greene_; when

_forſaken_, _tawney_; pleaſing our owne _inward_ affections, leaving

them to others indifferent; but they preſcribe _lawes_, and conſtraine

the _Noble_, the _Scholer_, the _Merchant_, and all _Eſtates_ to a

certaine _habit_. The _old men_ of our time have changed with patience

their owne _bodies_, much of their _lawes_, much of their _languages_;

yea their _Religion_, yet they accuſe us. To be _Amorous_ is proper

and _naturall_ in a _young man_, but in an _old man_ most

_fantaſtike_. And that _ridling humour_ of _Iealouſie_, which ſeekes

and would not finde, which requires and repents his knowledge, is in

them moſt common, yet moſt _fantaſtike_. Yea, that which falls never

in _young men_, is in them moſt _fantaſtike_ and _naturall_, that is,

_Covetouſneſſe_; even at their _journeyes end_ to make great

proviſion. Is any _habit_ of _young men_ ſo _fantaſtike_, as in the

hotteſt ſeaſons to be _double-gowned_ or _hooded_ like our _Elders_?

Or ſeemes it ſo _ridiculous_ to weare long haire, as to weare _none_.

Truely, as among the _Philoſophers_, the _Skeptike_, which _doubts

all_, was more contentious, then either the _Dogmatike_ which

_affirmes_, or _Academike_ which _denyes all_; ſo are theſe uncertaine

_Elders_, which both cals them _fantaſtike_ which follow others

_inventions_, and them alſo which are led by their owne humorous

ſuggeſtion, more _fantaſtike_ then other.

[Decoration]

8.

_That Nature is our worſt Guide._

Shal ſhe be _guide_ to all _Creatures_, which is her ſelfe one? Or if

ſhe alſo have a _guide_, ſhall any _Creature_ have a better guide then

wee? The affections of _luſt_ and _anger_, yea even to _erre_ is

_naturall_; ſhall we follow theſe? Can ſhee be a good _guide_ to us,

which hath corrupted not us onely but her ſelfe? Was not the _firſt

man_, by the deſire of _knowledge_, corrupted even in the _whiteſt

integrity_ of _Nature_? And did not _Nature_ (if _Nature_ did any

thing) infuſe into him this deſire of _knowledge_, and ſo this

_corruption_ in him, into us? If by _Nature_ wee ſhall underſtand our

_eſſence_, our _definition_, or _reaſon_, _nobleneſſe_, then this

being alike common to all (the _Idiot_ and the _Wizard_ being equally

_reaſonable_) why ſhould not all men having equally all one _nature_,

follow one courſe? Or if we ſhall underſtand our _inclinations_;

alas! how unable a guide is that which followes the _temperature_ of

our ſlimie _bodies_? for we cannot ſay that we derive our

_inclinations_, our _mindes_, or _ſoules_ from our _Parents_ by any

way: to ſay that it is _all from all_, is _error_ in _reaſon_, for

then with the firſt nothing remaines; or is a _part from all_, is

_errour_ in _experience_, for then this _part_ equally imparted to

many children, would like _Gavel-kind lands_, in few generations

become nothing; or to ſay it by _communication_, is _errour_ in

_Divinity_, for to communicate the _ability_ of communicating _whole

eſſence_ with any but God, is utter _blaſphemy_. And if thou hit thy

_Fathers nature_ and _inclination_, he alſo had his _Fathers_, and ſo

climbing up, all comes of one man, and have one _nature_, all ſhall

imbrace one courſe; but that cannot bee, therefore our _complexions_

and whole _bodies_, wee inherit from _Parents_; our _inclinations_ and

minds follow that: For our minde is heavy in our _bodies afflictions_,

and rejoyceth in our _bodies pleaſure_: how then ſhall this _nature_

governe us, that is governed by the worſt part of us? _Nature though

oft chaſed away, it will returne_; ’tis true, but thoſe _good motions_

and _inſpirations_ which be our guides muſt bee _wooed_, _courted_,

and _welcomed_, or elſe they abandon us. And that old _Axiome_,

_nihil invita, &c._ muſt not be ſaid thou _ſhalt_, but thou _wilt_ doe

nothing againſt _Nature_; ſo _unwilling_ he notes us to curbe our

_naturall appetites_. Wee call our _baſtards_ alwayes our _naturall

iſſue_, and we define a _Foole_ by nothing ſo ordinary, as by the name

of _naturall_. And that poore knowledge whereby we conceive what

_raine_ is, what _wind_, what _thunder_, wee call _Metaphyſicke,

ſupernaturall_; ſuch _ſmall_ things, ſuch _no_ things doe we allow to

our pliant _Natures_ apprehenſion. Laſtly, by following her, we loſe

the pleaſant, and lawfull commodities of this life, for wee ſhall

drinke water and eate rootes, and thoſe not ſweet and delicate, as now

by Mans _art_ and _induſtry_ they are made: we ſhall loſe all the

neceſſities of _ſocieties_, _lawes_, _arts_, and _ſciences_, which are

all the workemanſhip of _Man_: yea we ſhall lack the laſt _beſt

refuge_ of miſery, _death_; becauſe _no death is naturall_: for if yee

will not dare to call all _death violent_ (though I ſee not why

_ſickneſſes_ be not _violences_) yet _cauſes_ of all _deaths_ proceed

of the _defect_ of that which _nature_ made perfect, and would

preſerve, and therefore all againſt _nature_.

[Decoration]

9.

_That only Cowards dare dye._

_Extreames_ are equally removed from the _meane_; ſo that headlong

_deſperateneſſe_ aſmuch offends true _valour_, as backward

_Cowardice_: of which ſort I reckon juſtly all _un-inforced deaths_.

When will your _valiant_ man dye of neceſſity? ſo _Cowards_ ſuffer

what cannot be avoided: and to runne into _death unimportun’d_, is to

runne into the firſt condemned deſperateneſſe. Will he dye when he is

_rich_ and _happy_? then by living he may doe more good: and in

_afflictions_ and _miſeries_, _death_ is the choſen refuge of

_Cowards_.

_Fortiter ille facit, qui miſer eſſe poteſt._

But it is taught and practiſed among our _Galants_, that rather than

our reputations ſuffer any _maime_, or we any _miſery_, wee ſhall

offer our _breſts_ to the _Cannons_ mouth, yea to our _ſwords_ points:

And this ſeemes a very _brave_ and a very _climbing_ (which is a

_Cowardly_, earthly, and indeed a very _groveling_) _ſpirit_. Why doe

they _chaine_ theſe ſlaves to the _Gallyes_, but that they thruſt

their _deaths_, and would at every looſe leape into the _ſea_? Why doe

they take weapons from _condemned_ men, but to barre them of that eaſe

which _Cowards_ affect, _a ſpeedy death_. Truely this _life_ is a

_tempeſt_, and a _warfare_, and he which _dares dye_, to eſcape the

_anguiſh_ of it, ſeems to mee, but ſo _valiant_, as hee which dares

_hang_ himſelfe, leſt hee be _preſt_ to the _warres_. I have ſeene one

in that extremity of _melancholy_, which was then become _madneſſe_,

to make his owne _breath_ an _Inſtrument_ to ſtay his breath, and

labour to choake himſelfe, but alas! he was _mad_. And we knew another

that languiſhed under the _oppreſſion_ of a poore _diſgrace_ ſo much,

that hee tooke more _paines to dye_, then would have ſerved to have

nouriſhed _life_ and _ſpirit_ enough to have outlived his _diſgrace_.

What _Foole_ will call this _Cowardlineſſe_, _Valour_? or this

_Baſeneſſe_, _Humility_? And laſtly, of theſe men which dye the

_Allegoricall death_ of entring into _Religion_, how few are found fit

for any ſhew of _valiancy_? but onely a _ſoft_ and _ſupple metall_,

made onely for _Cowardly_ ſolitarineſſe.

[Decoration]

10.

_That a Wiſe Man is knowne by much laughing._

_Ride, ſi ſapis, ô puella ride_; If thou beeſt _wiſe_, _laugh_: for

ſince the _powers_ of _diſcourſe_, _reaſon_, and _laughter_, bee

equally _proper_ unto Man onely, why ſhall not hee be onely moſt

_wiſe_, which hath moſt uſe of _laughing_, aſwell as he which hath

moſt of _reaſoning_ and _diſcourſing_? I alwaies did, and ſhall

underſtand that _Adage_;

_Per riſum multum poſſis cognoſcere ſtultum_,

That by much _laughing_ thou maiſt know there is a _foole_, not, that

the _laughers_ are _fooles_, but that among them there is ſome

_foole_, at whome _wiſemen_ laugh: which moved _Eraſmus_ to put this

as his firſt _Argument_ in the mouth of his _Folly_, that _ſhee made

Beholders laugh_: for _fooles_ are the moſt laughed at, and laugh the

leaſt themſelves of any. And _Nature_ ſaw this _faculty_ to bee ſo

neceſſary in man, that ſhee hath beene content that by _more cauſes_

we ſhould be importuned to _laugh_, then to the _exerciſe_ of any

other _power_; for things in themſelves utterly _contrary_, beget this

effect; for wee laugh both at _witty_ and _abſurd_ things: At both

which ſorts I have ſeen Men _laugh ſo long_, and _ſo earneſtly_, that

at laſt they have _wept_ that they could laugh no more. And therfore

the _Poet_ having deſcribed the quietneſſe of a _wiſe retired man_,

ſaith in one, what we have ſaid before in many lines; _Quid facit

Canius tuus? ridet_. We have received that even the _extremity_ of

_laughing_, yea of _weeping_ alſo, hath beene accounted _wiſedome_:

And that _Democritus_ and _Heraclitus_, the _lovers_ of theſe

_Extremes_, have been called _lovers of wiſedome_. Now among our

_wiſemen_ I doubt not, but many would be found who would laugh at

_Heraclitus_ weeping, none which weepe at _Democritus_ laughing. At

the hearing of _Comedies_ or other witty reports, I have noted ſome,

which not underſtanding _jeſts_, &c. have yet choſen this as the beſt

meanes to ſeeme _wiſe_ and _underſtanding_, to laugh when their

_Companions laugh_; and I have preſumed them _ignorant_, whom I have

ſeene _unmoved_. A _foole_ if he come into a _Princes Court_, and ſee

a _gay_ man leaning at the wall, ſo _gliſtering_, and ſo _painted_ in

many _colours_ that he is hardly diſcerned from one of the _pictures_

in the _Arras_, hanging his _body_ like an _Iron-bound-cheſt_, girt in

and thicke ribb’d with _broad gold laces_, may (and commonly doth)

envy him. But alas! ſhall a _wiſeman_, which may not onely not _envy_,

but not _pitty_ this _monſter_, do nothing? Yes, let him _laugh_. And

if one of theſe _hot cholerike firebrands_, which nouriſh themſelves

by _quarrelling_, and kindling others, ſpit upon a _foole_ one

_ſparke_ of _diſgrace_, he, like a _thatcht houſe_ quickly burning,

may bee _angry_; but the _wiſeman_, as _cold_ as the _Salamander_, may

not onely not be _angry_ with him, but not be _ſorry_ for him;

therefore let him _laugh_: ſo he ſhall be knowne a Man, becauſe he can

_laugh_, a _wiſe Man_ that hee knowes at _what_ to laugh, and a

_valiant Man_ that he _dares_ laugh: for he that _laughs_ is juſtly

reputed more _wiſe_, then at whom it is _laughed_. And hence I thinke

proceeds that which in theſe later _formall_ times I have much noted;

that now when our _ſuperſtitious civility_ of _manners_ is become a

mutuall _tickling flattery_ of one another, almoſt every man affecteth

an _humour_ of _jeſting_, and is content to be _deject_, and to

_deforme_ himſelfe, yea become _foole_ to no other _end_ that I can

ſpie, but to give his _wiſe Companion_ occaſion to _laugh_: and to

ſhew themſelves in _promptneſſe_ of _laughing_ is ſo great in

_wiſemen_, that I thinke all _wiſemen_, if any _wiſeman_ do reade this

_Paradox_, will _laugh_ both at it and me.

[Decoration]

11.

_That the gifts of the Body are better then thoſe of the Minde._

I ſay againe, that the _body_ makes the _minde_, not that it created

it a _minde_, but _formes_ it a _good_ or a _bad mind_; and this

_minde_ may be confounded with _ſoule_ without any violence or

injuſtice to _Reaſon_ or _Philoſophy_: then the _ſoule_ it ſeemes is

enabled by our _body_, not this by it. My _Body_ licenſeth my _ſoule_

to _ſee_ the Worlds _beauties_ through mine _eyes_; to _heare_

pleaſant things through mine _eares_; and affords it apt _Organs_ for

the conveiance of all perceivable _delight_. But alas! my _ſoule_

cannot make any _part_, that is not of it ſelfe diſpoſed, to _ſee_ or

_heare_, though without doubt ſhe be as able and as willing to ſee

_behind_ as _before_. Now if my _ſoule_ would ſay, that ſhee enables

any part to taſte theſe pleaſures, but is her ſelfe onely delighted

with thoſe rich _ſweetneſſes_ which her _inward eyes_ and _ſenſes_

apprehend, ſhee ſhould diſſemble; for I ſee her often ſolaced with

_beauties_, which ſhee ſees through mine _eyes_, and with _muſicke_

which through mine _eares_ ſhe heares. This _perfection_ then my

_body_ hath, that it can impart to my _minde_ all his _pleaſures_; and

my _minde_ hath ſtill many, that ſhe can neither teach my _indiſpoſed_

part her _faculties_, nor to the beſt _eſpouſed_ parts ſhew it

_beauty_ of _Angels_, of _Muſicke_, of _Spheres_, whereof ſhe boaſts

the _contemplation_. Are _chaſtity_, _temperance_, and _fortitude_

gifts of the _mind_? I appeale to _Phyſitians_ whether the _cauſe_ of

theſe be not in the _body_, _health_ is the gift of the _body_, and

_patience_ in ſickeneſſe the gift of the _minde_: then who will ſay

that _patience_ is as good a happineſſe, as _health_, when wee muſt be

extremely _miſerable_ to purchaſe this _happineſſe_. And for

nouriſhing of _civill ſocieties_ and _mutuall love_ amongſt men, which

is our _chiefe end_ while wee are men; I ſay, this _beauty_,

_preſence_, and _proportion_ of the _body_, hath a more _maſculine_

force in begetting this _love_, then the _vertues_ of the _minde_: for

it ſtrikes us _ſuddenly_, and poſſeſſeth us _immoderately_; when to

know thoſe _vertues_ requires ſome _Iudgement_ in him which ſhall

diſcerne, a _long time_ and _converſation_ betweene them. And even at

_laſt_ how much of our _faith_ and _beleefe_ ſhall we be driven to

beſtow, to aſſure our ſelves that theſe _vertues_ are not

_counterfeited_: for it is the ſame to _be_, and _ſeeme vertuous_,

becauſe that he that hath _no vertue_, can _diſſemble_ none, but he

which hath a _little_, may _gild_ and _enamell_, yea and transforme

much _vice_ into _vertue_: For allow a man to be _diſcreet_ and

_flexible_ to _complaints_, which are great _vertuous_ gifts of the

_minde_, this _diſcretion_ will be to him the _ſoule_ & _Elixir_ of

all _vertues_, ſo that touched with this, even _pride_ ſhal be made

_humility_; and _Cowardice_, honourable and wiſe _valour_. But in

things _ſeene_ there is not this danger, for the _body_ which thou

loveſt and eſteemeſt _faire_, is _faire_; certainely if it bee not

_faire_ in _perfection_, yet it is _faire_ in the ſame _degree_ that

thy _Iudgement_ is good. And in a _faire body_, I doe ſeldome ſuſpect

a _diſproportioned minde_, and as ſeldome hope for a _good_ in a

_deformed_. When I ſee a _goodly houſe_, I aſſure my ſelfe of a

_worthy poſſeſſour_, from a _ruinous weather-beaten building_ I turn

away, becauſe it ſeems either ſtuffed with _varlets_ as a _Priſon_, or

handled by an _unworthy_ and _negligent tenant_, that ſo ſuffers the

_waſte_ thereof. And truely the gifts of _Fortune_, which are

_riches_, are onely _handmaids_, yea _Pandars_ of the _bodies

pleaſure_; with their ſervice we nouriſh _health_, and preſerve

_dainty_, and wee buy _delights_; ſo that _vertue_ which muſt be loved

for _it ſelfe_, and reſpects no further _end_, is indeed _nothing_:

And _riches_, whoſe _end_ is the _good_ of the _body_, cannot be ſo

_perfectly good_, as the _end_ whereto it levels.

[Decoration]

12.

_That Virginity is a Vertue._

I call not that _Virginity a vertue_, which reſideth only in the

_Bodies integrity_; much leſſe if it be with a purpoſe of perpetuall

keeping it: for then it is a moſt inhumane vice—But I call that

_Virginity a vertue_ which is willing and deſirous to yeeld itſelfe

upon honeſt and lawfull termes, when juſt reaſon requireth; and untill

then, is kept with a modeſt chaſtity of Body and Mind. Some perchance

will say that _Virginity_ is in us by _Nature_, and therefore no

_vertue_. True, as it is in us by _Nature_, it is neither a _Vertue_

nor _Vice_, and is onely in the body: (as in Infants, Children, and

such as are incapable of parting from it). But that _Virginity_ which

is in Man or Woman of perfect age, is not in them by _Nature_:

_Nature_ is the greateſt enemy to it, and with moſt ſubtile

allurements ſeeks the over-throw of it, continually beating againſt it

with her _Engines_, and giving ſuch forcible aſſaults to it, that it

is a ſtrong and more then ordinary _vertue_ to hold out till marriage.

_Ethick_ Philoſophy ſaith, _That no Vertue is corrupted, or is taken

away by that which is good_: Hereupon ſome may ſay, that _Virginity_

is therefore no vertue, being taken away by marriage. _Virginity_ is

no otherwiſe taken away by marriage, then is the light of the ſtarres

by a greater light (the light of the Sun:) or as a leſſe Title is

taken away by a greater: (an Eſquire by being created an Earle) yet

_Virginity_ is a _vertue_, and hath her Throne in the middle: The

extreams are, in _Exceſſe_; to violate it before marriage; in defect,

not to marry. In ripe years as ſoon as reaſon perſwades, and

opportunity admits, Theſe extreams are equally removed from the mean:

The exceſſe proceeds from _Luſt_, the defect from _Peeviſhneſſe_,

_Pride_ and _Stupidity_. There is an old Proverb, That, _they that dy

maids, muſt lead Apes in Hell_. An Ape is a ridiculous and

unprofitable Beaſt, whoſe fleſh is not good for meat, nor its back for

burden, nor is it commodious to keep an houſe: and perchance for the

unprofitableneſſe of this Beaſt did this proverb come up: For surely

nothing is more unprofitable in the Commonwealth of _Nature_, then

they that dy old maids, becauſe they refuſe to be uſed to that end

for which they were only made. The Ape bringeth forth her young, for

the moſt part by twins; that which ſhe loves beſt, ſhe killeth by

preſſing it too hard: so fooliſh maids ſoothing themſelves with a

falſe conceit of _vertue_, in fond obſtinacie, live and die maids; and

ſo not only kill in themſelves the _vertue_ of _Virginity_, and of a

Vertue make it a Vice, but they also accuſe their parents in

condemning marriage. If this application hold not touch, yet there may

be an excellent one gathered from an Apes tender love to Conies in

keeping them from the Weaſel and Ferret. From this ſimilitude of an

Ape & an old Maid did the aforeſaid proverb firſt ariſe. But alas,

there are ſome old Maids that are _Virgins_ much againſt their wills,

and fain would change their _Virgin-life_ for a _Married_: ſuch if

they never have had any offer of fit Huſbands, are in ſome ſort

excuſable, and their willingneſſe, their deſire to marry, and their

forbearance from all diſhoneſt, and unlawful copulation, may be a kind

of inclination to _vertue_, although not _Vertue_ it ſelfe. This

_Virtue_ of _Virginity_ (though it be ſmall and fruitleſſe) it is an

extraordinary, and no common _Vertue_. All other _Vertues_ lodge in

the _Will_ (it is the _Will_ that makes them _vertues_.) But it is the

unwillingneſſe to keep it, the deſire to forſake it, that makes this a

_vertue_. As in the naturall generation and formation made of the ſeed

in the womb of a woman, the body is joynted and organized about the 28

day, and so it begins to be no more an _Embrion_, but capable as a

matter prepared to its form to receive the ſoule, which faileth not to

inſinuate and inneſt it ſelfe into the body about the fortieth day;

about the third month it hath motion and ſenſe: Even ſo _Virginity_ is

an _Embrion_, an unfaſhioned lump, till it attain to a certain time,

which is about twelve years of age in women, fourteen in men, and then

it beginneth to have the ſoule of _Love_ infuſed into it, and to

become a _vertue_: There is alſo a certain limited time when it

ceaſeth to be a _vertue_, which in men is about fourty, in women about

thirty years of age: yea, the loſſe of ſo much time makes their

_Virginity_ a _Vice_, were not their endeavour wholly bent, and their

deſires altogether fixt upon marriage: In Harveſt time do we not

account it a great vice of ſloath and negligence in a Huſband-man, to

overſlip a week or ten dayes after his fruits are fully ripe; May we

not much more account it a more heynous vice, for a _Virgin_ to let

her Fruit (_in potentia_) conſume and rot to nothing, and to let the

_vertue_ of her _Virginity_ degenerate into _Vice_, (for _Virginity_

ever kept is ever loſt.) Avarice is the greateſt deadly ſin next

Pride: it takes more pleaſure in hoording Treaſure then in making uſe

of it, and will neither let the poſſeſſor nor others take benefit by

it during the Miſers life; yet it remains intire, and when the Miſer

dies muſt come to ſom body. _Virginity_ ever kept, is a vice far worſe

then Avarice, it will neither let the poſſeſſor nor others take

benefit by it, nor can it be bequeathed to any: with long keeping it

decayes and withers, and becomes corrupt and nothing worth. Thus

ſeeing that _Virginity_ becomes a vice in defect, by exceeding a

limited time; I counſell all female _Virgins_ to make choyce of ſome

_Paracelſian_ for their Phyſitian, to prevent the death of that

_Vertue_: The _Paracelſians_ (curing like by like) ſay, That if the

lives of living Creatures could be taken down, they would make us

immortall. By this rule, female _Virgins_ by a diſcreet marriage

ſhould ſwallow down into their _Virginity_ another _Virginity_, and

devour ſuch a life & ſpirit into their womb, that it might make them

as it were, immortall here on earth, beſides their perfect

immortality in heaven: And that _Vertue_ which otherwiſe would

putrifie and corrupt, ſhall then be compleat; and ſhall be recorded in

Heaven, and enrolled here on Earth; and the name of _Virgin_ ſhall be

exchanged for a far more honorable name, _A Wife_.

[Decoration]