THAT SIN IS MORE CRAFTY THAN VIOLENT.

BEFORE we sin, the devil shews his policy; when we have sinned, his baseness. He makes us first revile our father, and then stands up to witness how we have blasphemed. He begs the rod on us, for faults which had not been, but for his own enticement. He was never such a soldier, as he is a politician: he blows up more by one mine, than he can kill by ten assaults: he prevails most by treaty and seducing ways. Presents and parlies win him more than the cruel wound, or the hand of force. All sin is rather subtle, than bold. The devil is a coward, and will with thy resisting fly thee; nor dare he shew himself in a noted good man's company: if he does, he comes in seeming virtue, and the garb of counterfeit truth. Vice stands abashed at the glorious majesty of a soul confirmed in goodness. Cato's presence stopped the practices of the Romans' brutish Floralia. Satan first began with hesitations and sly-couched oratory; and ever since, he has continued, in wiles, in stratagems, and the fetches of a toiling brain; rather decoying us into sin, than urging us to it :-and when we have committed it, he seldom lets us see our folly, till we are plunged into some deep extremity; then, he writes it in capital letters, and carries it, as a pageant at a show, before us. What could have made David so heartless, when Absalom rose against him, but the guilt of his sins which were then presented to him? when he fled, and wept, and fled again. It

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appears a wonder that Shimei should rail a king to his face, and unpunished, brave him and his host of soldiers; accusing him and casting stones at him, while he stood encompassed by his nobles. David was full of the horror of his sins, and knew that Shimei declared the truth, though he acted the devil's part, ignobly to insult óver a man in misery. It is a hellish disposition, which watches how to give a blow to the man already reeling. When we are in danger, the devil galls us with what we have done; and on our sick-beds, shews us all our sins in magnifying-glasses. He first draws us into odious treason, and when we are taken and brought to the bar, he is our accuser and convicting witness. His artful policy is now turned to open baseness. Nor is it a wonder, for evil is ever the end of deceit; yet sure, this cozenage is the more to be condemned, on account of its being so ruinous and so easy. Who is it but may deceive, if he minds to be a villain? How poor and inhuman was the craft of Cleomenes, who after concluding la truce for seven days, in the night assaulted the enemy; alleging, that the nights were not excluded from slaughter? I cannot tell which I most hate, the devil or a Machiavelian statesman. For though the devil be the more secret enemy, yet the base politician is the more familiar; and is indeed but a devil in hose and doublet, dressed up in an accustomed mode, that he may the better serve his treacherous purposes.

OF DISCONTENT.

DISCONTENT is like ink poured into water, which

fills the whole fountain full of blackness. It casts a cloud over the mind, and renders it more occupied about the evil which disquiets it, than about the means of removing it. Nay, it is so busied in grieving, as to have neither room nor time for considering what should afford it relief. It disassociates man, who was by nature made a sociable being, and sends him with beasts, to the loneliness of unfrequented deserts. Nor is it the mind alone, that is thus affected by discontent; the body is likewise affected by it. It thickens the complexion, and gives it a saturnine cast; the eye is rendered dim; and the whole man becomes, as if statued into stone and earth. Those discontents sting deepest, which cannot be communicated to another : for then the soul pines away, and starves for want of counsel, to comfort and cherish it. Concealed sorrows are like those vapours which being shut up, occasion earthquakes. That man is truly miserable who cannot get rid of his miseries; and yet will not unfold them. As in the body, whatsoever is taken inwardly which is distasteful and continues there unvoided, does daily suppurate and gather, till at last it kills or at least endangers life: so is it in the mind; sorrows entertained and smothered, do so collect, that the sweet dispositions of our nature give way to a harsh morosity and spleen. Why should we hug a poisoned arrow so closely in our wounded

bosoms? Neither griefs nor joys were ever ordained

for secrecy.

Strangulat inclusus dolor, atque cor æstuat intus ;

Cogitur et vires multiplicare suas.

Ov. Trist. 5. 1.

Griefs when untold, do choke and inwardly consume the heart; and, by restraint, their burning forces multiply.

I think there is no man but would willingly unfold, his griefs, if either shame of the cause, or distrust of his friend, did not deter him from declaring them. He that keeps his distress a close prisoner, is like that papist who observes Good-Friday all the year; he is ever whipping and inflicting penance on himself, when he needs not. Seriousness, even as to worldly things, I know, is sometimes profitable; but, like a willow, if we set it deep or let it stand too long, it will grow up to a tree, and overspread. Sorrow is a dull passion, and deadens the activity of the mind. Methinks Crates shewed a braver spirit, when he danced and laughed in his thread-bare cloak, and his wallet at his back (which was all the wealth he had), than Alexander, when he wept, that he had no more worlds to conquer. If I must have sorrow, I will never be so in love with it, as to keep it to myself alone: nor will I ever so affect company, as to live where vexations shall daily salute me.

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OF TRUTH, AND BITTERNESS IN JEST.

It is not good for man to be too tart in his jests. Bitterness is for serious potions; not for health's merriment, or the jollities of a mirthful feast. An offensive man is the devil's bellows, wherewith he blows up contentions and jars. In wit, I find nothing more galling than an offensive truth; for thereby we run into two great errors; one is, we chide that, in a loose laughter, which should be grave and savour both of love and pity; the other is, we descend to personality, and by that means draw the whole company to witness the disgrace of him at whose expense the joke is. The soldier is not noble who makes sport with the wounds of his companion. Whosoever will jest, should be like him who flourishes at a show; he should not aim more at one, than at another. Things like truth, are in this case better than truth itself. Nor is it less improper than unsafe, to fling about at random this wormwood of the brain, our wit; for some noses are too tender to endure the smell of it. And though there may be many, who, like tiled houses, can admit a falling spark without injury: yet some, again, are covered with such light, dry straw, that with the least touch they will kindle and flame about your ears: and when the house is on fire, it is unavailing to wonder from how small a matter it arose. Exitus iræ furor: anger is but a step from rage; and rage is a wild fire which is not to be extinguished. It is true, anger sooner inflames a