SECTION XX.

The second remedy of overjoyed Prosperity :-that it exposes to evil.

LET him think, that not only these outward things are not in themselves good, but that they expose their owners to misery; for, besides that God usually punishes our over-loving them with their loss, (because he thinks them unworthy rivals to himself, who challengeth all height of love as his only right,) so that the way to lose, is to love much; the largeness, moreover, either of affection or estate, makes an open way to ruin. While a man walks on plain ground he falls not; or, if he fall, he doth but measure his length on the ground, and rise again without harm; but he that climbeth high is in danger of falling; and, if he fall, of killing. All the sails hoisted, give vantage to a tempest; which, through the mariners' foresight giving timely room thereto by their fall, deliver the vessel from the danger of that gust, whose rage now passeth over with only beating her with waves for anger that he was prevented. So the larger our estate is, the fairer mark hath mischief given to hit; and, which is worse, that which makes us so easy to hit makes our wound more deep and grievous. If poor Codrus's house burn, he stands by and warms him with the flame, because he knows it is but the loss of an outside; which, by gathering some few sticks, straw, and clay, may, with little labour and no cost, be repaired; but when the many lofts of the rich man do one give fire to another, he cries out one while of his counting-house, another while of his wardrobe, then of some noted chest, and straight of

some rich cabinet; and, lamenting both the frame and the furniture, is therefore impatient because he had something.

SECTION XXI.

The vanity of Pleasure; the third Enemy on the right hand.

BUT, if there be any sorceress upon earth, it is Pleasure; which so enchanteth the minds of men, and worketh the disturbance of our peace with such secret delight, that foolish men think this want of tranquillity, happiness. She turneth men into swine, with such sweet charms that they would not change their brutish nature for their former reason. "It is a good unquietness," say they, "that contenteth: it is a good enemy that profiteth." Is it any wonder that men should be sottish, when their reason is mastered with sensuality? Thou fool, thy pleasure contents thee: how much? how long? If she have not more befriended thee than ever she did any earthly favourite; yea, if she have not given thee more than she hath herself, thy best delight hath had some mixture of discontentment; for either some circumstance crosseth thy desire, or the inward distaste of thy conscience (checking thine appetite) permits thee not any entire fruition of thy joy. Even the sweetest of all flowers hath his thorns; and who can determine, whether the scent be more delectable or the pricks more irksome? It is enough for heaven to have absolute pleasures; which if they could be found here below, cer

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tainly that heaven, which is now not enough desired, would then be feared. God will have our pleasures here, according to the fashion of ourselves, compounded; so as the best delights may still savour of their earth.

See how that great king, which never had any match for wisdom, scarce ever any superior for wealth, traversed over all this inferior world, with diligent inquiry and observation, and all to find out that goodness of the children of men which they enjoy under the sun; abridging himself of nothing that either his eyes or his heart could suggest to him; as what is it, that he could not either know or purchase? and now, coming home to himself, after the disquisition of all natural and human things, complains, that 'Behold, all is' not only vanity,' but vexation.'

Go, then, thou wise scholar of experience, and make a more accurate search for that which he sought and missed. Perhaps, somewhere, betwixt the tallest cedar in Lebanon and the shrubby hyssop upon the wall, pleasure shrouded herself that she could not be descried of him; whether through ignorance or negligence: thine insight may be more piercing; thy means more commodious; thy success happier. If it were possible for any man to entertain such hopes, his vain experience could not make him a greater fool; it could but teach him what he is and knoweth not.

And yet, so imperfect as our pleasures are, they have their satiety; and as their continuance is not good, so their conclusion is worse: look to their end, and see how sudden, how bitter it is. Their only courtesy is to salute us with a farewell; and such a one as makes their salutation uncomfort

able. This Dalila shows and speaks fair; but in the end she will bereave thee of thy strength, of thy sight, yea of thyself. These gnats fly about thine ears and make thee music awhile; but evermore they sting ere they part. Sorrow and repentance is the best end of pleasure; pain is yet worse; but the worst is despair. If thou miss of the first of these, one of the latter shall find thee; perhaps both. How much better is it for thee to want a little honey, than to be swollen up with a venomous sting!

Thus then the mind, resolved that these earthly things, honours, wealth, pleasures, are casual, unstable, deceitful, imperfect, dangerous, must learn to use them without trust, and to want them without grief; thinking still, "If I have them, I have some benefit with a great charge: if I have them not, with little respect of others, I have much security and ease in myself;" which once obtained, we cannot fare amiss in either estate; and without which, we cannot but miscarry in both.

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SECTION XXII.

Positive rules of our Peace.-The fruition of God in holy exercises.

ALL the enemies of our inward peace are thus descried and discomfited. Which done, we have enough to preserve us from misery: but, since we moreover seek how to live well and happily, there yet remain those positive rules, whereby our tranquillity may be both had, continued, and confirmed. Wherein, I fear not lest I should seem over di

vine, in casting the anchor of quietness so deep ás heaven, the only seat of constancy, while it can find no bold at all upon earth. All earthly things are full of variableness; and therefore, having no stay in themselves, can give none to us. He that will have and hold right tranquillity, must find in himself a sweet fruition of God, and feeling apprehension of his presence; that, when he finds manifold occasions of vexation in these earthly things, he, overlooking them all, and having recourse to his comforter, may find in him such matter of contentment that he may pass over all these petty grievances with contempt; which whosoever wants, may be secure, cannot be quiet.

The mind of man cannot but want some refuge; and, (as we say of the elephant,) cannot rest, unless it have something to lean upon. The covetous man, whose heaven is his chest, when he hears himself rated and cursed for oppressions, comes home; and, seeing his bags safe, applauds himself against all censures. The glutton, when he loseth friends or good name, yet joyeth in his well furnished table, and the laughter of his wine; more pleasing himself in one dish, than he can be grieved with all the world's miscarriage. The needy scholar, whose wealth lies all in his brain, cheers himself against iniquity of times, with the conceit of his knowledge. These starting holes the mind cannot want when it is hard driven.

Now when, as like to some chased Sisera, it shrowds itself under the harbour of these Jaels; although they give it house-room and milk for a time, yet, at last, either they entertain it with a nail in the temples; or, being guilty to their own impotency, send it out of themselves, for safety and