serious anger. The best way to quell discontentments, is either not to see them or to convert them to a smiling mirth. It is true, nothing but experience and collected judgment can enable a man to do this: but when he has brought himself to it, how infinite shall he find his ease! It was Xantippe's observation, that she ever found Socrates return with the same countenance that he went abroad with. Lucan can tell us, that

-Fortunaque perdat

Oppositâ virtute, minas.

-All Fortune's threats are lost,

Where virtue does oppose.

Lib. 9. 570.

I wish no man so spiritless, as to let all abuses press upon a willing shoulder: but I wish him an able discretion, to discern which are fit to be stirred in, and those to prosecute for no other end but to shew, the injury was more to virtue and dear nature's justice, than to himself. Every man should be equity's champion: because it is that eternal pillar whereon the world is founded. In high and elevated fortunes, resolution is necessary to secure us from the thefts and wiles of prosperity, which steal us away, not only from ourselves, but virtue: and for the most part, like a long peace, softly deliver us over to impoverishing war. In the wane of fortune, resolution is likewise necessary to guard us from the discontents that usually assail the poor dejected man; for all the world will beat the man, whom fortune buffets;-and unless by

this, he can turn off the blows, he shall be sure to feel the greatest burthen in his own sad mind. A wise man makes a trouble less, by fortitude: but to a fool, it is heavier, by his stooping to it. I would fain bring myself to that pass, as that my happiness shall not depend upon another's judgment. But as I would never do any thing dishonestly: so I would never fear the immaterial wind of censure, when it is done. He who steers by that gale, is ever in danger of a wreck. Honesty is a warrant of far more safety than fame. I will never be ashamed of that which bears her seal: knowing that it is only pride's being in fashion, that hath put honest humility out of countenance. As for the crackers of the brain and tongue-squibs, they will die of themselves, if I do not revive them. The best way to have them forgotten by others, is first to forget them myself. This will keep myself in quiet and by a noble not-caring, wound the intender's bosom; who will ever fret most, when he finds his designs most frustrated. Yet, in all these, I will something respect Custom, because she is magnified in that world, wherein I am one; but when she deviates from just reason, I shall rather displease her by parting than offend in her company. I would have all men set up their rest, for all things which this world can yield: yet so, as to build upon a surer foundation than themselves: otherwise, that which should have been their foundation, will surely cross them; and that is, God.

OF THE ENDS OF VIRTUE AND VICE.

VIRTUE and Vice never differ so much as in the end; at least, their difference is never so clearly seen, as then. And this, I think, is the reason, why so many minds are seduced to the pursuit of ill. They imagine not their last act will be tragical; because their former scenes have all been comedy. The end is so far off, that they see not those stabbing shames that await them in a killing ambush; and if it were nearer, yet their own dim sight would leave them undiscovered. The same thing also, that encourages vice, discourages virtue; for by her rugged way and the resistance that she finds in her passage, she is often persuaded to step into vice's path: which while she finds smooth, she does not perceive to be slippery. Vice's road is paved with ice; inviting to the eye but tripping up the heel, to the hazard of a wound or drowning. Virtue's is like the passage of Hannibal over the Alps, a tiring toil of infinite danger; but, when once performed, lets him into the world's garden, Italy. Doubtless, the world has nothing so glorious as virtue: as virtue, when she rides triumphant; when, like a Phœbean champion, she has routed the army of her enemies, razed their strongest forts, and brought the mightiest of her foes to subjection. Her presence is a dignity which amazes the beholder with surrounding rays. The good honour her, for the love of the like they find in themselves; the bad, though they repine in

wardly, yet shame (which is for the most part, an effect of base vice) now goes before the action, and commands their baser hearts to silence. On the other side, what a monster is vice! Her own guilt, and the detestation of others, set up two great hells, in her single little, narrow heart; horror, shame; and that which most of all must gall her, is, that she finds their flames inextinguishable. Outwardly, she may sometimes appear like virtue. For all the several gems of virtue, vice has counterfeit stones, wherewith she gulls the ignorant. But there are two main reasons which shall make me virtue's lover: for her inside and for her end; and for the same reasons, will I hate vice. If I find there be a difference in their ways; I will yet think of them, as of the two sons in the Gospel; whereof virtue said, he would not go to the vineyard, yet did: and vice, though he promised to go, desisted.

A FRIEND AND ENEMY, WHEN MOST

DANGEROUS.

I WILL take heed both of a speedy friend and a slow enemy. Love is never lasting which flames before it burns; and hate, like wetted coals, throws a fiercer heat, when fire gets the mastery. As quick wits have seldom sound judgments which should make them continue: so friendship kindled suddenly, is rarely found to consist with the durability of affection.

Enduring love is ever built on virtue, which no man can see in another, at once. He that fixes upon her, shall find a beauty, which will every day take him with some new grace or other. I like that love, which by a soft ascension, does degree itself into the soul. As for an enemy who is long a making, he is much the worse, for being ill no sooner. He hates not without cause, who is unwilling to hate at all.

OF PURITANS.

I FIND many who are called Puritans; yet few or

none, who will own the name. The reason of which is surely this, that it is a name of opprobrium; and is so new, that it hath scarcely yet obtained a definition : Nor is it an appellation derived from one man's name, whose tenets we can find digested into a volume: whereby we do much err, in our application of it. In itself, it imports a kind of excellency above another; which man (being conscious of his own frail bendings) is ashamed to assume to himself. So that I believe there are men, who would be Puritans; but not any that indeed, are so. One will have him to be a man who lives religiously and will not revel in an unbounded excess; another, him who separates from our divine assemblies; another, him who in some tenets only, is peculiar; another, him who will not swear. Absolutely to define him is, I think, a work of difficulty. Some I know, who rejoice in the name;