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THE SEVENTH BOOK
What is wickedness ? It is that which many time
and often thou hast already seen and known in the world.
And so oft as anything doth happen that might otherwise
trouble thee, let this memento presently come to thy mind,
that it is that which thou hast already often Seen and known.
Generally, above and below, thou shalt find but the same things.
The very same things whereof ancient stories, middle age stories,
and fresh stories are full whereof towns are full, and houses full.
There is nothing that is new. All things that are, are both
usual and of little continuance.
What fear is there that thy dogmata, or philosophical
resolutions and conclusions, should become dead in thee,
and lose their proper power and efficacy to make thee live happy,
as long as those proper and correlative fancies, and representations
of things on which they mutually depend (which continually to stir
up and revive is in thy power,) are still kept fresh and alive?
It is in my power concerning this thing that is happened,
what soever it be, to conceit that which is right and true.
If it be, why then am I troubled? Those things that are
without my understanding, are nothing to it at all:
and that is it only, which doth properly concern me.
Be always in this mind, and thou wilt be right.
Ill. That which most men would think themselves most happy for,
and would prefer before all things, if the Gods would grant it
unto them after their deaths, thou mayst whilst thou livest grant
unto thyself; to live again. See the things of the world again,
as thou hast already seen them. For what is it else to live again?
Public shows and solemnities with much pomp and vanity,
stage plays, flocks and herds; conflicts and con tentions:
a bone thrown to a company of hungry curs; a bait for
greedy fishes; the painfulness, and continual burden-bearing
of wretched ants, the running to and fro of terrified mice:
little puppets drawn up and down with wires and nerves:
these be the objects of the world. among all these thou must
stand steadfast, meekly affected, and free from all manner
of indignation; with this right ratiocination and apprehension;
that as the worth is of those things which a man doth affect,
so is in very deed every man's worth more or less.
Word after word, every one by itself, must the things that
are spoken be conceived and understood; and so the things that
are done, purpose after purpose, every one by itself likewise.
And as in matter of purposes and actions, we must presently see
what is the proper use and relation of every one; so of words must
we be as ready, to consider of every one what is the true meaning,
and signification of it according to truth and nature, however it
be taken in common use.
Is my reason, and understanding sufficient for this, or no?
If it be sufficient, without any private applause, or public
ostentation as of an instrument, which by nature I am provided of,
I will make use of it for the work in hand, as of an instrument,
which by nature I am provided of. if it be not, and that otherwise
it belong not unto me particularly as a private duty, I will either
give it over, and leave it to some other that can better effect it:
or I will endeavour it; but with the help of some other, who with
the joint help of my reason, is able to bring somewhat to pass,
that will now be seasonable and useful for the common good.
For whatsoever I do either by myself, or with some other, the only thing
that I must intend, is, that it be good and expedient for the public.
For as for praise, consider how many who once were much commended,
are now already quite forgotten, yea they that commended them,
how even they themselves are long since dead and gone.
Be not therefore ashamed, whensoever thou must use the help of others.
For whatsoever it be that lieth upon thee to effect, thou must
propose it unto thyself, as the scaling of walls is unto a soldier.
And what if thou through either lameness or some other impediment
art not able to reach unto the top of the battlements alone,
which with the help of another thou mayst; wilt thou therefore
give it over, or go about it with less courage and alacrity.
because thou canst not effect it all alone?
Let not things future trouble thee. For if necessity so
require that they come to pass, thou shalt (whensoever that is)
be provided for them with the same reason, by which whatsoever
is now present, is made both tolerable and acceptable unto thee.
All things are linked and knitted together, and the knot is sacred,
neither is there anything in the world, that is not kind and natural
in regard of any other thing, or, that hath not some kind of reference
and natural correspondence with whatsoever is in the world besides.
For all things are ranked together, and by that decency of its due
place and order that each particular doth observe, they all concur
together to the making of one and the same ["Kosmos" ed] or world:
as if you said, a comely piece, or an orderly composition.
For all things throughout, there is but one and the same order;
and through all things, one and the same God, the same substance
and the same law. There is one common reason, and one common truth,
that belongs unto all reasonable creatures, for neither is there
save one perfection of all creatures that are of the same kind,
and partakers of the same reason.
Whatsoever is material, doth soon vanish away into the common
substance of the whole; and whatsoever is formal, or, whatsoever doth
animate that which is material, is soon resumed into the common reason
of the whole; and the fame and memory of anything, is soon swallowed
up by the general age and duration of the whole.
To a reasonable creature, the same action is both according
to nature, and according to reason. IX. Straight of itself,
not made straight.
As several members in one body united, so are reasonable
creatures in a body divided and dispersed, all made and prepared
for one common operation. And this thou shalt apprehend the better,
if thou shalt use thyself often to say to thyself, I am meloz,
or a member of the mass and body of reasonable substances.
But if thou shalt say I am meroz, or a part, thou dost
not yet love men from thy heart. The joy that thou takest
in the exercise of bounty, is not yet grounded upon a due
ratiocination and right apprehension of the nature of things.
Thou dost exercise it as yet upon this ground barely,
as a thing convenient and fitting; not, as doing good to thyself,
when thou dost good unto others. XI. Of things that are external,
happen what will to that which can suffer by external accidents.
Those things that suffer let them complain themselves,
if they will; as for me, as long as I conceive no such thing,
that that which is happened is evil, I have no hurt;
and it is in my power not to conceive any such thing. XII.
Whatsoever any man either doth or saith, thou must be good;
not for any man's sake, but for thine own nature's sake;
as if either gold, or the emerald, or purple, should ever be
saying to themselves, Whatsoever any man either doth or saith,
I must still be an emerald, and I must keep my colour.
This may ever be my comfort and security: my understanding,
that ruleth over all, will not of itself bring trouble
and vexation upon itself. This I say; it will not put itself
in any fear, it will not lead itself into any concupiscence.
If it be in the power of any other to compel it to fear,
or to grieve, it is free for him to use his power.
But sure if itself do not of itself, through some false
opinion or supposition incline itself to any such disposition;
there is no fear. For as for the body, why should I
make the grief of my body, to be the grief of my mind?
If that itself can either fear or complain, let it.
But as for the soul, which indeed, can only be truly
sensible of either fear or grief; to which only it belongs
according to its different imaginations and opinions,
to admit of either of these, or of their contraries;
thou mayst look to that thyself, that it suffer nothing.
Induce her not to any such opinion or persuasion.
The understanding is of itself sufficient unto itself,
and needs not (if itself doth not bring itself to need) any other
thing besides itself, and by consequent as it needs nothing,
so neither can it be troubled or hindered by anything,
if itself doth not trouble and hinder itself.
What is rv&nfLovia, or happiness: but a7~o~ &d~wv, or,
a good da~rnon, or spirit? What then dost thou do here, O opinion?
By the Gods I adjure thee, that thou get thee gone, as thou earnest:
for I need thee not. Thou earnest indeed unto me according to thy ancient
wonted manner. It is that, that all men have ever been subject unto.
That thou camest therefore I am not angry with thee, only begone,
now that I have found thee what thou art.
Is any man so foolish as to fear change, to which all things
that once were not owe their being? And what is it, that is
more pleasing and more familiar to the nature of the universe?
How couldst thou thyself use thy ordinary hot baths, should not
the wood that heateth them first be changed? How couldst thou
receive any nourishment from those things that thou hast eaten,
if they should not be changed? Can anything else almost
(that is useful and profitable) be brought to pass without change?
How then dost not thou perceive, that for thee also, by death,
to come to change, is a thing of the very same nature,
and as necessary for the nature of the universe?
Through the substance of the universe, as through a torrent
pass all particular bodies, being all of the same nature, and all
joint workers with the universe itself as in one of our bodies
so many members among themselves. How many such as Chrysippus,
how many such as Socrates, how many such as Epictetus,
hath the age of the world long since swallowed up and devoured?
Let this, be it either men or businesses, that thou hast
occasion to think of, to the end that thy thoughts be not
distracted and thy mind too earnestly set upon anything,
upon every such occasion presently come to thy mind.
Of all my thoughts and cares, one only thing shall be the object,
that I myself do nothing which to the proper constitution of man,
(either in regard of the thing itself, or in regard of the manner,
or of the time of doing,) is contrary. The time when thou
shalt have forgotten all things, is at hand. And that time
also is at hand, when thou thyself shalt be forgotten by all.
Whilst thou art, apply thyself to that especially which unto
man as he is a mart, is most proper and agreeable, and that is,
for a man even to love them that transgress against him.
This shall be, if at the same time that any such thing doth happen,
thou call to mind, that they are thy kinsmen; that it is through
ignorance and against their wills that they sin; and that within
a very short while after, both thou and he shall be no more.
But above all things, that he hath not done thee any hurt;
for that by him thy mind and understanding is not made worse or
more vile than it was before. XVII. The nature of the universe,
of the common substance of all things as it were of so much wax hath
now perchance formed a horse; and then, destroying that figure,
hath new tempered and fashioned the matter of it into the form
and substance of a tree: then that again into the form
and substance of a man: and then that again into some other.
Now every one of these doth subsist but for a very little while.
As for dissolution, if it be no grievous thing to the chest
or trunk, to be joined together; why should it be more grievous
to be put asunder?
An angry countenance is much against nature, and it is
oftentimes the proper countenance of them that are at the point
of death. But were it so, that all anger and passion were so
thoroughly quenched in thee, that it were altogether impossible
to kindle it any more, yet herein must not thou rest satisfied,
but further endeavour by good consequence of true ratiocination,
perfectly to conceive and understand, that all anger and
passion is against reason. For if thou shalt not be sensible
of thine innocence; if that also shall be gone from thee,
the comfort of a good conscience, that thou doest all things
according to reason: what shouldest thou live any longer for?
All things that now thou seest, are but for a moment.
That nature, by which all things in the world are administered,
will soon bring change and alteration upon them, and then
of their substances make other things like unto them : and then
soon after others again of the matter and substance of these:
that so by these means, the world may still appear fresh
and new. XIX. Whensoever any man doth trespass against other,
presently consider with thyself what it was that he did
suppose to be good, what to be evil, when he did trespass.
For this when thou knowest, thou wilt pity him thou wilt
have no occasion either to wonder, or to be angry.
For either thou thyself dust yet live in that error
and ignorance, as that thou dust suppose either that very thing
that he doth, or some other like worldly thing, to be good;
and so thou art bound to pardon him if he have done that
which thou in the like case wouldst have done thyself.
Or if so be that thou dost not any more suppose the same things
to be good or evil, that he doth; how canst thou but be gentle
unto him that is in an error?
Fancy not to thyself things future, as though they were
present but of those that are present, take some aside, that thou
takest most benefit of, and consider of them particularly,
how wonderfully thou wouldst want them, if they were not present.
But take heed withal, lest that whilst thou dust settle thy
contentment in things present, thou grow in time so to overprize them,
as that the want of them (whensoever it shall so fall out) should be
a trouble and a vexation unto thee. Wind up thyself into thyself.
Such is the nature of thy reasonable commanding part, as that if it
exercise justice, and have by that means tranquillity within itself,
it doth rest fully satisfied with itself without any other thing.
Wipe off all opinion stay the force and violence
of unreasonable lusts and affections: circumscribe the
present time examine whatsoever it be that is happened,
either to thyself or to another: divide all present objects,
either in that which is formal or material think of the last hour.
That which thy neighbour bath committed, where the guilt of it lieth,
there let it rest. Examine in order whatsoever is spoken.
Let thy mind penetrate both into the effects, and into the causes.
Rejoice thyself with true simplicity, and modesty; and that
all middle things between virtue and vice are indifferent
unto thee. Finally, love mankind; obey God. XXII. All things
(saith he) are by certain order and appointment.
And what if the elements only.
It will suffice to remember, that all things in general
are by certain order and appointment: or if it be but few.
And as concerning death, that either dispersion, or the atoms,
or annihilation, or extinction, or translation will ensue.
And as concerning pain, that that which is intolerable is soon
ended by death; and that which holds long must needs be tolerable;
and that the mind in the meantime (which is all in all)
may by way of jnterclusion, or interception, by stopping all
manner of commerce and sympathy with the body, still retain its
own tranquillity. Thy understanding is not made worse by it.
As for those parts that suffer, let them, if they can,
declare their grief themselves. As for praise and commendation,
view their mind and understanding, what estate they are in;
what kind of things they fly, and what things they seek after:
and that as in the seaside, whatsoever was before to be seen,
is by the continual succession of new heaps of sand cast up one
upon another, soon hid and covered; so in this life, all former
things by those which immediately succeed. XXIII. Out of Plato.
'He then whose mind is endowed with true magnanimity, who hath
accustomed himself to the contemplation both of all times,
and of all things in general; can this mortal life (thinkest thou)
seem any great matter unto him? It is not possible, answered he.
Then neither will such a one account death a grievous thing?
By no means.'
Out of Antisthenes. 'It is a princely thing to do well,
and to be ill-spoken of. It is a shameful thing that the face
should be subject unto the mind, to be put into what shape it will,
and to be dressed by it as it will; and that the mind should
not bestow so much care upon herself, as to fashion herself,
and to dress herself as best becometh her.'
Out of several poets and comics. 'It will but little
avail thee, to turn thine anger and indignation upon
the things themselves that have fallen across unto thee.
For as for them, they are not sensible of it, &c. Thou
shalt but make thyself a laughing-stock; both unto the Gods
and men, &c. Our life is reaped like a ripe ear of corn;
one is yet standing and another is down, &c. But if so be that I
and my children be neglected by the gods, there is some reason
even for that, &c. As long as right and equity is of my side,
&c. Not to lament with them, not to tremble, &c'
Out of Plato. 'My answer, full of justice and equity,
should be this: Thy speech is not right, O man! if thou
supposest that he that is of any worth at all, should apprehend
either life or death, as a matter of great hazard and danger;
and should not make this rather his only care, to examine his
own actions, whether just or unjust: whether actions of a good,
or of a wicked man, &c. For thus in very truth stands the case,
O ye men of Athens. What place or station soever a man
either hath chosen to himself, judging it best for himself;
or is by lawful authority put and settled in, therein do I think
(all appearance of danger notwithstanding) that he should continue,
as one who feareth neither death, nor anything else, so much
as he feareth to commit anything that is vicious and shameful,
&c. But, O noble sir, consider I pray, whether true generosity
and true happiness, do not consist in somewhat else rather,
than in the preservation either of our, or other men's lives.
For it is not the part of a man that is a man indeed, to desire
to live long or to make much of his life whilst he Iiveth:
but rather (he that is such) will in these things wholly refer
himself unto the Gods, and believing that which every woman can
tell him, that no man can escape death; the only thing that
he takes thought and care for is this, that what time he liveth,
he may live as well and as virtuously as he can possibly, &c. To
look about, and with the eyes to follow the course of the stars
and planets as though thou wouldst run with them; and to mind
perpetually the several changes of the elements one into another.
For such fancies and imaginations, help much to purge away the dross
and filth of this our earthly life,' &c. That also is a fine passage
of Plato's, where he speaketh of worldly things in these words:
'Thou must also as from some higher place look down, as it were,
upon the things of this world, as flocks, armies, husbandmen's labours,
marriages, divorces, generations, deaths: the tumults of courts
and places of judicatures; desert places; the several nations
of barbarians, public festivals, mournmgs, fairs, markets.'
How all things upon earth are pell-mell; and how miraculously
things contrary one to another, concur to the beauty and perfection
of this universe.
To look back upon things of former ages, as upon the manifold
changes and conversions of several monarchies and commonwealths.
We may also foresee things future, for they shall all be of
the same kind; neither is it possible that they should leave
the tune, or break the concert that is now begun, as it were,
by these things that are now done and brought to pass in the world.
It comes all to one therefore, whether a man be a spectator
of the things of this life but forty years, or whether he see
them ten thousand years together: for what shall he see more?
'And as for those parts that came from the earth, they shall
return unto the earth again; and those that came from heaven,
they also shall return unto those heavenly places.'
Whether it be a mere dissolution and unbinding of the manifold
intricacies and entanglements of the confused atoms;
or some such dispersion of the simple and incorruptible
elements . . . 'With meats and drinks and divers charms,
they seek to divert the channel, that they might not die.
Yet must we needs endure that blast of wind that cometh from above,
though we toil and labour never so much.'
He hath a stronger body, and is a better wrestler
than I. What then? Is he more bountiful? is he more modest?
Doth he bear all adverse chances with more equanimity:
or with his neighbour's offences with more meekness and
gentleness than I?
Where the matter may be effected agreeably to that reason,
which both unto the Gods and men is common, there can be no just cause
of grief or sorrow. For where the fruit and benefit of an action
well begun and prosecuted according to the proper constitution
of man may be reaped and obtained, or is sure and certain,
it is against reason that any damage should there be suspected.
In all places, and at all times, it is in thy power religiously
to embrace whatsoever by God's appointment is happened unto thee,
and justly to converse with those men, whom thou hast to do with,
and accurately to examine every fancy that presents itself,
that nothing may slip and steal in, before thou hast rightly
apprehended the true nature of it.
Look not about upon other men's minds and understandings;
but look right on forwards whither nature, both that of the universe,
in those things that happen unto thee; and thine in particular,
in those things that are done by thee: doth lead, and direct thee.
Now every one is bound to do that, which is consequent and agreeable
to that end which by his true natural constitution he was ordained unto.
As for all other things, they are ordained for the use
of reasonable creatures: as in all things we see that that
which is worse and inferior, is made for that which is better.
Reasonable creatures, they are ordained one for another.
That therefore which is chief in every man's constitution, is,
that he intend the common good. The second is, that he yield
not to any lusts and motions of the flesh. For it is the part
and privilege of the reasonable and intellective faculty,
that she can so bound herself, as that neither the sensitive,
nor the appetitive faculties, may not anyways prevail upon her.
For both these are brutish. And therefore over both she
challengeth mastery, and cannot anyways endure, if in her right temper,
to be subject unto either. And this indeed most justly.
For by nature she was ordained to command all in the body.
The third thing proper to man by his constitution, is, to avoid
all rashness and pre-cipitancy; and not to be subject to error.
To these things then, let the mind apply herself and go straight on,
without any distraction about other things, and she hath her end,
and by consequent her happiness.
As one who had lived, and were now to die by right,
whatsoever is yet remaining, bestow that wholly as a gracious
overplus upon a virtuous life. Love and affect that only,
whatsoever it be that happeneth, and is by the fates
appointed unto thee. For what can be more reasonable?
And as anything doth happen unto thee by way of cross,
or calamity, call to mind presently and set before thine eyes,
the examples of some other men, to whom the self-same thing
did once happen likewise. Well, what did they? They grieved;
they wondered ; they complained. And where are they now?
All dead and gone. Wilt thou also be like one of them?
Or rather leaving to men of the world (whose life both
in regard of themselves, and them that they converse with,
is nothing but mere mutability; or men of as fickle minds,
as fickle bodies; ever changing and soon changed themselves:
let it be thine only care and study, how to make a right use
of all such accidents. For there is good use to be made
of them, and they will prove fit matter for thee to work upon,
if it shall be both thy care and thy desire, that whatsoever
thou doest, thou thyself mayst like and approve thyself for it.
And both these, see, that thou remember well, according as
the diversity of the matter of the action that thou art about
shall require. Look within; within is the fountain of all good.
Such a fountain, where springing waters can never fail,
so thou dig still deeper and deeper. XXXII. Thou must
use thyself also to keep thy body fixed and steady;
free from all loose fluctuant either motion, or posture.
And as upon thy face and looks, thy mind hath easily power
over them to keep them to that which is grave and decent;
so let it challenge the same power over the whole body also.
But so observe all things in this kind, as that it be without
any manner of affectation.
The art of true living in this world is more like a wrestler's,
than a dancer's practice. For in this they both agree, to teach a man
whatsoever falls upon him, that he may be ready for it, and that nothing
may cast him down.
Thou must continually ponder and consider with thyself,
what manner of men they be, and for their minds and understandings
what is their present estate, whose good word and testimony thou
dost desire. For then neither wilt thou see cause to complain
of them that offend against their wills; or find any want
of their applause, if once thou dost but penetrate into the true
force and ground both of their opinions, and of their desires.
'No soul (saith he) is willingly bereft of the truth,'
and by consequent, neither of justice, or temperance, or kindness,
and mildness; nor of anything that is of the same kind.
It is most needful that thou shouldst always remember this.
For so shalt thou be far more gentle and moderate towards all men.
What pain soever thou art in, let this presently come
to thy mind, that it is not a thing whereof thou needest
to be ashamed, neither is it a thing whereby thy understanding,
that hath the government of all, can be made worse. For neither
in regard of the substance of it, nor in regard of the end of it
(which is, to intend the common good) can it alter and corrupt it.
This also of Epicurus mayst thou in most pains find some help of,
that it is 'neither intolerable, nor eternal;' so thou keep thyself
to the true bounds and limits of reason and give not way to opinion.
This also thou must consider, that many things there be,
which oftentimes unsensibly trouble and vex thee, as not armed
against them with patience, because they go not ordinarily under
the name of pains, which in very deed are of the same nature as pain;
as to slumber unquietly, to suffer heat, to want appetite:
when therefore any of these things make thee discontented,
check thyself with these words: Now hath pain given thee the foil;
thy courage hath failed thee.
Take heed lest at any time thou stand so affected,
though towards unnatural evil men, as ordinary men are commonly
one towards another.
How know we whether Socrates were so eminent indeed, and of
so extraordinary a disposition? For that he died more gloriously,
that he disputed with the Sophists more subtilly; that he watched in the
frost more assiduously; that being commanded to fetch innocent Salaminius,
he refused to do it more generously; all this will not serve.
Nor that he walked in the streets, with much gravity and majesty,
as was objected unto him by his adversaries: which nevertheless
a man may well doubt of, whether it were so or no, or, which above
all the rest, if so be that it were true, a man would well consider of,
whether commendable, or dis-commendable. The thing therefore that we
must inquire into, is this; what manner of soul Socrates had:
whether his disposition was such; as that all that he stood upon,
and sought after in this world, was barely this, that he might ever
carry himself justly towards men, and holily towards the Gods.
Neither vexing himself to no purpose at the wickedness of others,
nor yet ever condescending to any man's evil fact, or evil
intentions, through either fear, or engagement of friendship.
Whether of those things that happened unto him by God's appointment,
he neither did wonder at any when it did happen, or thought it
intolerable in the trial of it. And lastly, whether he never did suffer
his mind to sympathise with the senses, and affections of the body.
For we must not think that Nature hath so mixed and tempered it
with the body, as that she hath not power to circumscribe herself,
and by herself to intend her own ends and occasions.
For it is a thing very possible, that a man
should be a very divine man, and yet be altogether unknown.
This thou must ever be mindful of, as of this also,
that a man's true happiness doth consist in very few things.
And that although thou dost despair, that thou shalt ever
be a good either logician, or naturalist, yet thou art never
the further off by it from being either liberal, or modest,
or charitable, or obedient unto God. XXXIX. Free from all
compulsion in all cheerfulness and alacrity thou mayst run out
thy time, though men should exclaim against thee never so much,
and the wild beasts should pull in sunder the poor members
of thy pampered mass of flesh. For what in either of these
or the like cases should hinder the mind to retain her own
rest and tranquillity, consisting both in the right judgment
of those things that happen unto her, and in the ready use
of all present matters and occasions? So that her judgment
may say, to that which is befallen her by way of cross:
this thou art in very deed, and according to thy true nature:
notwithstanding that in the judgment of opinion thou dust
appear otherwise: and her discretion to the present object;
thou art that, which I sought for. For whatsoever it be,
that is now present, shall ever be embraced by me as a fit
and seasonable object, both for my reasonable faculty,
and for my sociable, or charitable inclination to work upon.
And that which is principal in this matter, is that it may be
referred either unto the praise of God, or to the good of men.
For either unto God or man, whatsoever it is that doth happen
in the world hath in the ordinary course of nature its
proper reference; neither is there anything, that in regard
of nature is either new, or reluctant and intractable,
but all things both usual and easy.
XL. Then hath a man attained to the estate of perfection in his
life and conversation, when he so spends every day, as if it
were his last day: never hot and vehement in his affections,
nor yet so cold and stupid as one that had no sense;
and free from all manner of dissimulation.
XLI. Can the Gods, who are immortal, for the continuance of so
many ages bear without indignation with such and so many sinners,
as have ever been, yea not only so, but also take such care for them,
that they want nothing; and dust thou so grievously take on,
as one that could bear with them no longer; thou that art but for
a moment of time? yea thou that art one of those sinners thyself?
A very ridiculous thing it is, that any man should dispense
with vice and wickedness in himself, which is in his power
to restrain; and should go about to suppress it in others,
which is altogether impossible.
XLII. What object soever, our reasonable and sociable
faculty doth meet with, that affords nothing either for
the satisfaction of reason, or for the practice of charity,
she worthily doth think unworthy of herself. XLIII. When thou
hast done well, and another is benefited by thy action,
must thou like a very fool look for a third thing besides,
as that it may appear unto others also that thou hast done well,
or that thou mayest in time, receive one good turn for another?
No man useth to be weary of that which is beneficial unto him.
But every action according to nature, is beneficial.
Be not weary then of doing that which is beneficial unto thee,
whilst it is so unto others.
XLIV. The nature of the universe did once certainly before it
was created, whatsoever it hath done since, deliberate and so
resolve upon the creation of the world. Now since that time,
whatsoever it is, that is and happens in the world,
is either but a consequent of that one and first deliberation:
or if so be that this ruling rational part of the world,
takes any thought and care of things particular, they are
surely his reasonable and principal creatures, that are
the proper object of his particular care and providence.
This often thought upon, will much conduce to thy tranquillity.