cruelty neither, but the cozening a wolf, perhaps, or a vulture, of a supper. Now Sextius abstained upon another account; which was, that he would not have men inured to hardness of heart, by the laceration and tormenting of living creatures; besides that nature had sufficiently provided for the sustenance of mankind, without blood. This wrought so far upon me, that I gave over eating of flesh; and in one year made it not only easy to me, but pleasant; my mind methought was more at liberty, (and I am still of the same opinion) but I gave it over nevertheless, and the reason was this; it was imputed as a superstition to the Jews the forbearance of some sorts of flesh, and my father brought me back again to my old custom, that I might not be thought tainted with superstition. Nay, and I had much ado to prevail upon myself to suffer it too. I make use of this instance to show the aptness of youth to take good impressions, if there be a friend at hand to press them. Philosophers are the tutors of mankind; if they have found out remedies for the mind, it must be our part to apply them.

The wise man studies rather to fill his mind than his coffers; and he knows that gold and silver were mingled with dirt, until avarice or ambition parted them. His life is orderly, fearless, equal, secure; he stands firm in all extremities, and bears the lot of his humanity with a divine temper. There is a great difference betwixt the splendor of philosophy, and of fortune; the one shines with an original light, the other with a borrowed one; besides, that it makes us happy and immortal.

A good conscience is the testimony of a good life, and its reward. This is it that fortifies the mind against fortune, when a man has obtained the mastery of his passions; placed his treasure and his security within himself; learned to be content with his condition; and that death is no evil in itself, but only the end of man. He that has dedicated his mind to virtue, and to the good of human society, of which he is a member, has consummated all that is either profitable or necessary for him to know, or to do, toward the establishment of his peace. Every man has a judge and witness within himself, of all the good and ill that he does; which inspires us with great thoughts

and administers to us wholesome counsels. We have a veneration for all the works of Nature, the heads of rivers, and the spring of medicinal waters: the horrors of groves and of caves, strike us with an impression of religion and worship. To see a man fearless in danger, untainted with lusts, happy in adversity, composed in a tumult, and laughing at those things which are generally either coveted or feared; all men must acknowledge, that this can be nothing else but a beam of divinity that influences a mortal body.

A great, a good, and a right mind, is a kind of divinity lodged in flesh, and may be the blessing of a slave as well as of a prince; it came from heaven, and to heaven it must return; and it is a kind of heavenly felicity, which a pure and virtuous mind enjoys, in some degree, even upon earth: whereas temples of honor are but empty names, which probably owe their beginning either to ambition, or to violence.

All the good and ill we do, is under the dominion of the mind; a clear conscience establishes us in an inviolable peace: and, thus the greatest blessing in Nature, is that which every honest man may be bestow upon himself.

Provided we look to our consciences, no matter for opinion let me deserve well, though I hear ill. The common people mistake pluck and audacity, for the marks of magnanimity, and honor; and, if a man be mid and modest, they look upon him as an easy fool: but when they come once to observe the dignity of his mind, in the equality and firmness of his actions; and that his external quiet is founded upon internal peace, the very same people have him in esteem and admiration. For, there is no man but approves of virtue, though but few pursue it; we see where it is, but we dare not venture to come at it: and the reason is, we over value that which we must quit to obtain it. A good conscience fears Do witnesses, but a guilty conscience is solicitous even in solitude. If we do nothing but what is honest, let all the world know it; but if otherwise, what does it signify to have no body else know it, so long as I know it myself? miserable is he that slights that witness! wickedness, it is true, may escape the law, but not the conscience: for

a private conviction is the first, and the greatest punishment of offenders; so that the sin plagues itself; and the fear of vengeance pursues even those that escape the stroke of it. It were ill for good men that iniquity may so easily evade law, the judge, and the execution, if Nature had not set up torments and gibbets, in the consciences of transgressors. He that is guilty, lives in perpetual terrors, and while he expects to be punished, he punishes himself; and whoever deserves it, expects it. What if he be not detected? he is still in apprehension yet, that he may be so. His sleeps are painful, and never secure ; and he cannot speak of another man's wickedness, without thinking of his own; whereas a good conscience is a continual feast. Those are the only certain and profitable delights, which arise from the conscience of a well acted life: no matter for noise abroad, so long as we are quiet within but if our passions be seditious, that is enough to keep us waking, without any other tumult. It is not the posture of the body, or the composure of the bed, that will give rest to an uneasy mind.

There is not in the scale of Nature, a more inseparable connection of cause and effect, than in the case of happiness and virtue: nor any thing that can more naturally produce the one, or more necessarily presupposes the other. For, what is it to be happy, but for a man to content himself with his lot, in a cheerful and quiet resignation to the appointments of God? All the actions of our lives ought to be governed with a respect to good and evil and it is only reason that distinguishes: by which reason we are in such a manner influenced, as if a ray of the Divinity were dipt in a mortal body; and that is the perfection of mankind.

Why do we not as well commend a horse for his gorgeous trappings, as a man for his pompous additions? How much a braver creature is a lion (which by nature ought to be fierce and terrible,) how much braver in his natural horror, than in his chains? so that every thing in its pure Nature pleases us best. It is not health, nobility, riches, that can justify a wicked man; nor is it the want of all these that can discredit a good one. This is the sovereign blessing which makes the possessor of it

valuable without any thing else, and him that wants it contemptible, though he had all the world besides. It is not the painting, gilding, or carving, that makes a good ship: but if she be a nimble sailor, tight and strong, to endure the seas, that is her excellency. It is the edge and temper of the blade, that makes a good sword; not the richness of the scabbard: and so it is not money, or possessions, that make a man considerable, but his virtue.

It is every man's duty to make himself profitable to mankind: if he can, to many; if not, to sewer: if not so neither, to his neighbors; but at all events to himself. There are two republics; a great one, which is human nature; and a less, which is the place where we were born: some serve both at a time; some only the greater, and some again only the less: the greater may be served in privacy, solitude, contemplation, and perchance that way better than any other; but it was the intent of Nature, however, that we should serve both. A good man may serve the public, his friend, and himself in any sta tion: if he be not for the sword, let him take the gown; if the bar does not agree with him, let him try the pul pit; if he be silenced abroad, let him give counsel at home; and discharge the part of a faithful friend, and a temperate companion. When he is no longer a citizen, he is yet a man; but the whole world is his country, and human nature never wants matter to work upon.

Whoever observes the World, and its order, will find all its motions to be only vicissitude of falling and rising: nothing is extinguished, and even those things which seem to us to perish, are in truth but changed. The seasons go, and return; day and night follow in their courses; the heavens roll, and Nature goes on with her work. All things succeed in their turns; storms and calms; the law of Nature will have it so, which we must follow, and obey, accounting all things that are done, to be well done: 80 that what we cannot mend we must suffer, and wait on destiny without repining.

Better for a man to live an exile abroad, than to be massacred at home. In suffering for virtue, it is not the torment, but the cause that we are to consider; and the more pain the more renown. When any hardship befals us,

we must look upon it as an act of Providence, which many times suffers particulars to be wounded for the preservation of the whole.

It is a shame for a man to place his felicity in those entertainments and appetites, that are stronger in brutes. Do not beasts eat with a better stomach? have they not more satisfaction in their lusts? and they have not only a quicker relish of their pleasures, but they enjoy them without either scandal or remorse. If sensuality were happiness, beasts were happier than men; but human felicity is lodged in the soul, not in the flesh. They that deliver themselves up to luxury are still either tormented with too little, or oppressed with too much; and equally miserable by being either deserted, or overwhelmed.

The more in number, and the greater they are, the more general and absolute a slave is the servant of them. Let the common people pronounce him as happy as they please, he pays his liberty for his delights, and sells himself for what he buys.

Let any man take a view of our kitchens; the number of our cooks, and the variety of our meats: will he not wonder to see so much provision made for one belly? we have as many diseases as we have cooks, or meats; and the service of the appetite is a study now in vogue. To say nothing of our train of lacqueys, and other troops of caterers and victuallers. Great Jove! that ever one belly should employ so many people. How nauseous and fulsome are the surfeits that follow these excesses? simple meats are out of fashion; and all are collected into one; so that the cook does the office of the stomach; nay, and of the teeth too, for the meat looks as if it were chewed before hand; here is the luxury of all tastes in one dish, and more like a vomit than a soup. Frem these compounded dishes arise compounded diseases, which require compounded medicines. It is the same with our minds, as with our tables; simple vices are curable by simple counsels, but a general dissolution of manners is hardly overcome: we are overrun with public as well as with private madness. The physicians of old understood little more than the virtue of some herbs to stop blood, or heal a wound and their firm and healthful bodies needed lit