PARADOXES

PARADOXES

1. A Defence of Womens Inconſtancy.

That Women are Inconſtant, I with any man confeſſe, but that Inconſtancy is a bad quality, I againſt any man will maintaine: For every thing as it is one better than another, ſo is it fuller of change; The Heavens themſelves continually turne, the Starres move, the Moone changeth; Fire whirleth, Ayre flyeth, Water ebbs and flowes, the face of the Earth altereth her lookes, time ſtayes not; the Colour that is moſt light, will take moſt dyes: ſo in Men, they that have the moſt reaſon are the moſt alterable in their deſignes, and the darkeſt or moſt ignorant, do ſeldomeſt change; therefore Women changing more than Men, have alſo more Reaſon. They cannot be immutable like ſtockes, like ſtones, like the Earths dull Center; Gold that lyeth ſtill, ruſteth; Water, corrupteth; Aire that moveth not, poyſoneth; then why ſhould that which is the perfection of other things, be imputed to Women as greateſt imperfection? Becauſe thereby they deceive men. Are not your wits pleaſed with thoſe jeſts, which coozen your expectation? You can call it Pleaſure to be beguil’d in troubles, and in the moſt excellent toy in the world, you call it Treachery: I would you had your Miſtreſſes ſo conſtant, that they would never change, no not ſo much as their ſmocks, then ſhould you ſee what ſluttiſh vertue, Conſtancy were. Inconſtancy is a moſt commendable and cleanely quality, and Women in this quality are farre more abſolute than the Heavens, than the Starres, Moone, or any thing beneath it; for long obſervation hath pickt certainety out of their mutability. The Learned are ſo well acquainted with the Starres, Signes and Planets, that they make them but Characters, to reade the meaning of the Heaven in his owne forehead. Every ſimple Fellow can beſpeake the change of the Moone a great while beforehand: but I would faine have the learnedſt man ſo skilfull, as to tell when the ſimpleſt Woman meaneth to varie. Learning affords no rules to know, much leſſe knowledge to rule the minde of a Woman: For as Philoſophy teacheth us, that Light things doe alwayes tend upwards, and heavy things decline downeward; Experience teacheth us otherwiſe, that the diſpoſition of a Light Woman, is to fall downe, the nature of Women being contrary to all Art and Nature. Women are like Flies, which feed among us at our Table, or Fleas ſucking our very blood, who leave not our moſt retired places free from their familiarity, yet for all their fellowſhip will they never bee tamed nor commanded by us. Women are like the Sunne, which is violently carryed one way, yet hath a proper courſe contrary: ſo though they, by the maſtery of ſome over-ruling churliſh Husbands, are forced to his Byas, yet have they a motion of their owne, which their Husbands never know of. It is the nature of nice and faſtidious mindes to know things onely to bee weary of them: Women by their ſlye changeableneſſe, and pleaſing doubleneſſe, prevent even the miſlike of thoſe, for they can never be ſo well knowne, but that there is ſtill more unknowne. Every Woman is a Science; for hee that plods upon a Woman all his life long, ſhall at length find himſelfe ſhort of the knowledge of her: they are borne to take downe the pride of wit, and ambition of wiſedome, making fooles wiſe in the adventuring to winne them, wiſemen fooles in conceit of loſing their labours; witty men ſtarke mad, being confounded with their uncertaineties. Philoſophers write againſt them for ſpight, not deſert, that having attained to ſome knowledge in all other things, in them onely they know nothing, but are meerely ignorant: Active and Experienced men raile againſt them, becauſe they love in their liveleſſe and decrepit age, when all goodneſſe leaves them. Theſe envious Libellers ballad againſt them, becauſe having nothing in themſelves able to deſerve their love, they maliciouſly diſcommend all they cannot obtaine, thinking to make men beleeve they know much, becauſe they are able to diſpraiſe much, and rage againſt Inconſtancy, when they were never admitted into ſo much favour as to be forſaken. In mine Opinion ſuch men are happy that Women are Inconſtant, for ſo may they chance to bee beloved of ſome excellent Women (when it comes to their turne) out of their Inconſtancy and mutability, though not out of their owne deſert. And what reaſon is there to clog any Woman with one Man, bee hee never ſo ſingular? Women had rather, and it is farre better and more Iudiciall to enjoy all the vertues in ſeverall Men, than but ſome of them in one, for otherwiſe they loſe their taſte, like divers ſorts of meat minced together in one diſh: and to have all excellencies in one Man (if it were poſſible) is Confuſion and Diverſity. Now who can deny, but ſuch as are obſtinately bent to undervalue their worth, are thoſe that have not ſoule enough to comprehend their excellency, Women being the moſt excellenteſt Creatures, in that Man is able to ſubject all things elſe, and to grow wiſe in every thing, but ſtill perſiſts a foole in Woman? The greateſt Scholler, if hee once take a Wife, is found ſo unlearned, that he muſt begin his Horne-booke, and all is by Inconſtancy. To conclude therefore; this name of Inconſtancy, which hath ſo much beene poyſoned with ſlaunders, ought to bee changed into variety, for the which the world is ſo delightfull, and a Woman for that the moſt delightfull thing in this world.

2. That Women ought to paint.

Fouleneſſe is Lothſome: can that be ſo which helpes it? who forbids his Beloved to gird in her waſte? to mend by ſhooing her uneven lameneſſe? to burniſh her teeth? or to perfume her breath? yet that the Face bee more preciſely regarded, it concernes more: For as open confeſſing ſinners are alwaies puniſhed, but the wary and concealing offenders without witneſſe doe it alſo without puniſhment; ſo the ſecret parts needs the leſſe reſpect; but of the Face, diſcovered to all Examinations and ſurvayes, there is not too nice a Iealouſie. Nor doth it onely draw the buſie eyes, but it is ſubject to the divineſt touch of all, to kiſſing, the ſtrange and myſticall union of ſoules. If ſhee ſhould proſtitute her ſelfe to a more unworthy Man than thy ſelfe, how earneſtly and juſtly wouldſt thou exclaime? that for want of this eaſier and ready way of repairing, to betray her body to ruine and deformity (the tyrannous Raviſhers, and ſodaine Deflourers of all Women) what a heynous Adultery is it? What thou loveſt in her face is colour, and painting gives that, but thou hateſt it, not becauſe it is, but becauſe thou knoweſt it. Foole, whom ignorance makes happy; the Starres, the Sunne, the Skye whom thou admireſt, alas, have no colour, but are faire, becauſe they ſeeme to bee coloured: If this ſeeming will not ſatisfie thee in her, thou haſt good aſſurance of her colour, when thou ſeeſt her lay it on. If her face bee painted on a Boord or Wall, thou wilt love it, and the Boord, and the Wall: Canſt thou loath it then when it ſpeakes, ſmiles, and kiſſes, becauſe it is painted? Are wee not more delighted with ſeeing Birds, Fruites, and Beaſts painted then wee are with Naturalls? And doe wee not with pleaſure behold the painted ſhape of Monſters and Divels, whom true, wee durſt not regard? Wee repaire the ruines of our houſes, but firſt cold tempeſts warnes us of it, and bytes us through it; wee mend the wracke and ſtaines of our Apparell, but firſt our eyes, and other bodies are offended; but by this providence of Women, this is prevented. If in kiſſing or breathing upon her, the painting fall off, thou art angry, wilt thou be ſo, if it ſticke on? Thou didſt love her, if thou beginneſt to hate her, then ’tis becauſe ſhee is not painted. If thou wilt ſay now, thou didſt hate her before, thou didſt hate her and love her together, bee conſtant in ſomething, and love her who ſhewes her great love to thee, in taking this paines to ſeeme lovely to thee.

3. That by Diſcord things increaſe.

Nullos eſſe Deos, inane Cœlum Affirmat Cœlius, probatq; quod ſe Factum vidit, dum negat hæc, beatum.

So I aſſevere this the more boldly, becauſe while I maintaine it, and feele the Contrary repugnancies and adverſe fightings of the Elements in my Body, my Body increaſeth; and whilſt I differ from common opinions by this Diſcord, the number of my Paradoxes increaſeth. All the rich benefits we can frame to our ſelves in Concord, is but an Even conſervation of things; in which Evenneſſe wee can expect no change, no motion; therefore no increaſe or augmentation, which is a member of motion. And if this unity and peace can give increaſe to things, how mightily is diſcord and war to that purpoſe, which are indeed the onely ordinary Parents of peace. Diſcord is never ſo barren that it affords no fruit; for the fall of one eſtate is at the worſt the increaſer of another, becauſe it is as impoſſible to finde a diſcommodity without advantage, as to finde Corruption without Generation: But it is the Nature and Office of Concord to preſerve onely, which property when it leaves, it differs from it ſelfe, which is the greateſt diſcord of all. All Victories and Emperies gained by warre, and all Iudiciall decidings of doubts in peace, I doe claime children of Diſcord. And who can deny but Controverſies in Religion are growne greater by diſcord, and not the Controverſie, but Religion it ſelfe: For in a troubled miſery Men are alwaies more Religious then in a ſecure peace. The number of good men, the onely charitable nouriſhers of Concord, wee ſee is thinne, and daily melts and waines; but of bad diſcording it is infinite, and growes hourely. Wee are aſcertained of all Diſputable doubts, onely by arguing and differing in Opinion, and if formall diſputation (which is but a painted, counterfeit, and diſſembled diſcord) can worke us this benefit, what ſhall not a full and maine diſcord accompliſh? Truely me thinkes I owe a devotion, yea a ſacrifice to diſcord, for caſting that Ball upon Ida, and for all that buſineſſe of Troy, whom ruin’d I admire more then Babylon, Rome, or Quinzay, removed Corners, not onely fulfilled with her fame, but with Cities and Thrones planted by her Fugitives. Laſtly, between Cowardice and deſpaire, Valour is gendred; and ſo the Diſcord of Extreames begets all vertues, but of the like things there is no iſſue without a miracle:

Vxor peſſima, peſſimus maritus Miror tam malè convenire.

Hee wonders that betweene two ſo like, there could be any diſcord, yet perchance for all this diſcord there was nere the leſſe increaſe.

4. That good is more common then evill.

I have not been ſo pittifully tired with any vanity, as with ſilly Old Mens exclaiming againſt theſe times, and extolling their owne: Alas! they betray themſelves, for if the times be changed, their manners have changed them. But their ſenſes are to pleaſures, as ſick Mens taſtes are to Liquors; for indeed no new thing is done in the world, all things are what, and as they were, and Good is as ever it was, more plenteous, and muſt of neceſſity be more common then evill, becauſe it hath this for nature and perfection to bee common. It makes Love to all Natures, all, all affect it. So that in the Worlds early Infancy, there was a time when nothing was evill, but if this World ſhall ſuffer dotage in the extreameſt crookedneſſe thereof, there ſhall be no time when nothing ſhal be good. It dares appeare and ſpread, and gliſter in the World, but evill buries it ſelfe in night and darkneſſe, and is chaſtiſed and ſuppreſſed when good is cheriſhed and rewarded. And as Imbroderers, Lapidaries, and other Artiſans, can by all things adorne their workes; for by adding better things, the better they ſhew in Luſh and in Eminency; ſo good doth not onely proſtrate her amiableneſſe to all, but refuſes no end, no not of her utter contrary evill, that ſhee may bee the more common to us. For euill manners are parents of good Lawes; and in every evill there is an excellency, which (in common ſpeech) we call good. For the faſhions of habits, for our moving in geſtures, for phraſes in our ſpeech, we ſay they were good as long as they were uſed, that is, as long as they were common; and wee eate, wee walke, onely when it is, or ſeemes good to doe ſo. All faire, all profitable, all vertuous, is good, and theſe three things I thinke embrace all things, but their utter contraries; of which alſo faire may be rich and vertuous; poore may bee vertuous and faire; vitious may be faire and rich; ſo that good hath this good meanes to be common, that ſome ſubjects ſhe can poſſeſſe intirely; and in ſubjects poyſoned with evill, ſhe can humbly ſtoop to accompany the evill. And of indifferent things many things are become perfectly good by being common, as cuſtomes by uſe are made binding Lawes. But I remember nothing that is therefore ill, becauſe it is common, but Women, of whom alſo; They that are moſt common, are the beſt of that Occupation they profeſſe.

5. That all things kill themſelves.

To affect, yea to effect their owne death all living things are importuned, not by Nature only which perfects them, but by Art and Education, which perfects her. Plants quickened and inhabited by the moſt unworthy ſoule, which therefore neither will nor worke, affect an end, a perfection, a death; this they ſpend their ſpirits to attaine, this attained, they languiſh and wither. And by how much more they are by mans Induſtry warmed, cheriſhed, and pampered; ſo much the more early they climbe to this perfection, this death. And if amongſt Men not to defend be to kill, what a hainous ſelfe-murther is it, not to defend it ſelfe. This defence becauſe Beaſts neglect, they kill themſelves, becauſe they exceed us in number, ſtrength, and a lawleſſe liberty: yea, of Horſes and other beaſts, they that inherit moſt courage by being bred of gallanteſt parents, and by Artificial nurſing are bettered, will runne to their owne deaths, neither ſollicited by ſpurres which they need not, nor by honour which they apprehend not. If then the valiant kill himſelfe, who can excuſe the coward? Or how ſhall Man bee free from this, ſince the firſt Man taught us this, except we cannot kill our ſelves, becauſe he kill’d us all. Yet leſt ſomething ſhould repaire this Common ruine, we daily kill our bodies with ſurfeits, and our mindes with anguiſhes. Of our powers, remembring kils our memory; Of Affections, Luſting our luſt; Of vertues, Giving kils liberality. And if theſe kill themſelves, they do it in their beſt & ſupreme perfection: for after perfection immediately follows exceſſe, which changeth the natures and the names, and makes them not the ſame things. If then the beſt things kill themſelves ſooneſt, (for no affection endures, and all things labour to this perfection) all travell to their owne death, yea the frame of the whole World, if it were poſſible for God to be idle, yet becauſe it began, muſt dye. Then in this idleneſſe imagined in God, what could kill the world but it ſelfe, ſince out of it, nothing is?

6. That it is poſsible to find ſome vertue in ſome Women.

I am not of that ſeard Impudence that I dare defend Women, or pronounce them good; yet we ſee Phyſitians allow ſome vertue in every poyſon. Alas! why ſhould we except Women? ſince certainely, they are good for Phyſicke at leaſt, ſo as ſome wine is good for a feaver. And though they be the Occaſioners of many ſinnes, they are alſo the Puniſhers and Revengers of the ſame ſinnes: For I have ſeldome ſeene one which conſumes his ſubſtance and body upon them, eſcape diſeaſes, or beggery; and this is their Iuſtice. And if ſuum cuiq; dare, bee the fulfilling of all Civill Iuſtice, they are moſt juſt; for they deny that which is theirs to no man.

Tanquam non liceat nulla puella negat.

And who may doubt of great wiſdome in them, that doth but obſerve with how much labour and cunning our Iuſticers and other diſpenſers of the Lawes ſtudy to imbrace them: and how zealouſly our Preachers dehort men from them, onely by urging their ſubtilties, and policies, and wiſedome, which are in them? Or who can deny them a good meaſure of Fortitude, if hee conſider how valiant men they have overthrowne, and being themſelves overthrowne, how much and how patiently they beare? And though they bee moſt intemperate, I care not, for I undertooke to furniſh them with ſome vertue, not with all. Neceſſity, which makes even bad things good, prevailes alſo for them, for wee muſt ſay of them, as of ſome ſharpe pinching Lawes; If men were free from infirmities, they were needleſſe. Theſe or none muſt ſerve for reaſons, and it is my great happineſſe that Examples prove not Rules, for to confirme this Opinion, the World yeelds not one Example.

7. That Old men are more fantaſtike then Young.

Who reads this Paradox but thinks mee more fantaſtike now, than I was yeſterday, when I did not think thus: And if one day make this ſenſible change in men, what will the burthen of many yeeres? To bee fantaſtike in young men is conceiptfull diſtemperature, and a witty madneſſe; but in old men, whoſe ſenſes are withered, it becomes naturall, therefore more full and perfect. For as when wee ſleepe our fancy is moſt ſtrong; ſo it is in age, which is a ſlumber of the deepe ſleepe of death. They taxe us of Inconſtancy, which in themſelves young they allowed; ſo that reprooving that which they did approove, their Inconſtancy exceedeth ours, becauſe they have changed once more then wee. Yea, they are more idlely buſied in conceited apparell then wee; for we, when we are melancholy, weare blacke; when luſty, greene; when forſaken, tawney; pleaſing our owne inward affections, leaving them to others indifferent; but they preſcribe lawes, and conſtraine the Noble, the Scholer, the Merchant, and all Eſtates to a certaine habit. The old men of our time have changed with patience their owne bodies, much of their lawes, much of their languages; yea their Religion, yet they accuſe us. To be Amorous is proper and naturall in a young man, but in an old man most fantaſtike. And that ridling humour of Iealouſie, which ſeekes and would not finde, which requires and repents his knowledge, is in them moſt common, yet moſt fantaſtike. Yea, that which falls never in young men, is in them moſt fantaſtike and naturall, that is, Covetouſneſſe; even at their journeyes end to make great proviſion. Is any habit of young men ſo fantaſtike, as in the hotteſt ſeaſons to be double-gowned or hooded like our Elders? Or ſeemes it ſo ridiculous to weare long haire, as to weare none. Truely, as among the Philoſophers, the Skeptike, which doubts all, was more contentious, then either the Dogmatike which affirmes, or Academike which denyes all; ſo are theſe uncertaine Elders, which both cals them fantaſtike which follow others inventions, and them alſo which are led by their owne humorous ſuggeſtion, more fantaſtike then other.

8. That Nature is our worſt Guide.

Shal ſhe be guide to all Creatures, which is her ſelfe one? Or if ſhe alſo have a guide, ſhall any Creature have a better guide then wee? The affections of luſt and anger, yea even to erre is naturall; ſhall we follow theſe? Can ſhee be a good guide to us, which hath corrupted not us onely but her ſelfe? Was not the firſt man, by the deſire of knowledge, corrupted even in the whiteſt integrity of Nature? And did not Nature (if Nature did any thing) infuſe into him this deſire of knowledge, and ſo this corruption in him, into us? If by Nature wee ſhall underſtand our eſſence, our definition, or reaſon, nobleneſſe, then this being alike common to all (the Idiot and the Wizard being equally reaſonable) why ſhould not all men having equally all one nature, follow one courſe? Or if we ſhall underſtand our inclinations; alas! how unable a guide is that which followes the temperature of our ſlimie bodies? for we cannot ſay that we derive our inclinations, our mindes, or ſoules from our Parents by any way: to ſay that it is all from all, is error in reaſon, for then with the firſt nothing remaines; or is a part from all, is errour in experience, for then this part equally imparted to many children, would like Gavel-kind lands, in few generations become nothing; or to ſay it by communication, is errour in Divinity, for to communicate the ability of communicating whole eſſence with any but God, is utter blaſphemy. And if thou hit thy Fathers nature and inclination, he alſo had his Fathers, and ſo climbing up, all comes of one man, and have one nature, all ſhall imbrace one courſe; but that cannot bee, therefore our complexions and whole bodies, wee inherit from Parents; our inclinations and minds follow that: For our minde is heavy in our bodies afflictions, and rejoyceth in our bodies pleaſure: how then ſhall this nature governe us, that is governed by the worſt part of us? Nature though oft chaſed away, it will returne; ’tis true, but thoſe good motions and inſpirations which be our guides muſt bee wooed, courted, and welcomed, or elſe they abandon us. And that old Axiome, nihil invita, &c. muſt not be ſaid thou ſhalt, but thou wilt doe nothing againſt Nature; ſo unwilling he notes us to curbe our naturall appetites. Wee call our baſtards alwayes our naturall iſſue, and we define a Foole by nothing ſo ordinary, as by the name of naturall. And that poore knowledge whereby we conceive what raine is, what wind, what thunder, wee call Metaphyſicke, ſupernaturall; ſuch ſmall things, ſuch no things doe we allow to our pliant Natures apprehenſion. Laſtly, by following her, we loſe the pleaſant, and lawfull commodities of this life, for wee ſhall drinke water and eate rootes, and thoſe not ſweet and delicate, as now by Mans art and induſtry they are made: we ſhall loſe all the neceſſities of ſocieties, lawes, arts, and ſciences, which are all the workemanſhip of Man: yea we ſhall lack the laſt beſt refuge of miſery, death; becauſe no death is naturall: for if yee will not dare to call all death violent (though I ſee not why ſickneſſes be not violences) yet cauſes of all deaths proceed of the defect of that which nature made perfect, and would preſerve, and therefore all againſt nature.

9. That only Cowards dare dye.

Extreames are equally removed from the meane; ſo that headlong deſperateneſſe aſmuch offends true valour, as backward Cowardice: of which ſort I reckon juſtly all un-inforced deaths. When will your valiant man dye of neceſſity? ſo Cowards ſuffer what cannot be avoided: and to runne into death unimportun’d, is to runne into the firſt condemned deſperateneſſe. Will he dye when he is rich and happy? then by living he may doe more good: and in afflictions and miſeries, death is the choſen refuge of Cowards.

Fortiter ille facit, qui miſer eſſe poteſt.

But it is taught and practiſed among our Galants, that rather than our reputations ſuffer any maime, or we any miſery, wee ſhall offer our breſts to the Cannons mouth, yea to our ſwords points: And this ſeemes a very brave and a very climbing (which is a Cowardly, earthly, and indeed a very groveling) ſpirit. Why doe they chaine theſe ſlaves to the Gallyes, but that they thruſt their deaths, and would at every looſe leape into the ſea? Why doe they take weapons from condemned men, but to barre them of that eaſe which Cowards affect, a ſpeedy death. Truely this life is a tempeſt, and a warfare, and he which dares dye, to eſcape the anguiſh of it, ſeems to mee, but ſo valiant, as hee which dares hang himſelfe, leſt hee be preſt to the warres. I have ſeene one in that extremity of melancholy, which was then become madneſſe, to make his owne breath an Inſtrument to ſtay his breath, and labour to choake himſelfe, but alas! he was mad. And we knew another that languiſhed under the oppreſſion of a poore diſgrace ſo much, that hee tooke more paines to dye, then would have ſerved to have nouriſhed life and ſpirit enough to have outlived his diſgrace. What Foole will call this Cowardlineſſe, Valour? or this Baſeneſſe, Humility? And laſtly, of theſe men which dye the Allegoricall death of entring into Religion, how few are found fit for any ſhew of valiancy? but onely a ſoft and ſupple metall, made onely for Cowardly ſolitarineſſe.

10. That a Wiſe Man is knowne by much laughing.

Ride, ſi ſapis, ô puella ride; If thou beeſt wiſe, laugh: for ſince the powers of diſcourſe, reaſon, and laughter, bee equally proper unto Man onely, why ſhall not hee be onely moſt wiſe, which hath moſt uſe of laughing, aſwell as he which hath moſt of reaſoning and diſcourſing? I alwaies did, and ſhall underſtand that Adage;

Per riſum multum poſſis cognoſcere ſtultum,

That by much laughing thou maiſt know there is a foole, not, that the laughers are fooles, but that among them there is ſome foole, at whome wiſemen laugh: which moved Eraſmus to put this as his firſt Argument in the mouth of his Folly, that ſhee made Beholders laugh: for fooles are the moſt laughed at, and laugh the leaſt themſelves of any. And Nature ſaw this faculty to bee ſo neceſſary in man, that ſhee hath beene content that by more cauſes we ſhould be importuned to laugh, then to the exerciſe of any other power; for things in themſelves utterly contrary, beget this effect; for wee laugh both at witty and abſurd things: At both which ſorts I have ſeen Men laugh ſo long, and ſo earneſtly, that at laſt they have wept that they could laugh no more. And therfore the Poet having deſcribed the quietneſſe of a wiſe retired man, ſaith in one, what we have ſaid before in many lines; Quid facit Canius tuus? ridet. We have received that even the extremity of laughing, yea of weeping alſo, hath beene accounted wiſedome: And that Democritus and Heraclitus, the lovers of theſe Extremes, have been called lovers of wiſedome. Now among our wiſemen I doubt not, but many would be found who would laugh at Heraclitus weeping, none which weepe at Democritus laughing. At the hearing of Comedies or other witty reports, I have noted ſome, which not underſtanding jeſts, &c. have yet choſen this as the beſt meanes to ſeeme wiſe and underſtanding, to laugh when their Companions laugh; and I have preſumed them ignorant, whom I have ſeene unmoved. A foole if he come into a Princes Court, and ſee a gay man leaning at the wall, ſo gliſtering, and ſo painted in many colours that he is hardly diſcerned from one of the pictures in the Arras, hanging his body like an Iron-bound-cheſt, girt in and thicke ribb’d with broad gold laces, may (and commonly doth) envy him. But alas! ſhall a wiſeman, which may not onely not envy, but not pitty this monſter, do nothing? Yes, let him laugh. And if one of theſe hot cholerike firebrands, which nouriſh themſelves by quarrelling, and kindling others, ſpit upon a foole one ſparke of diſgrace, he, like a thatcht houſe quickly burning, may bee angry; but the wiſeman, as cold as the Salamander, may not onely not be angry with him, but not be ſorry for him; therefore let him laugh: ſo he ſhall be knowne a Man, becauſe he can laugh, a wiſe Man that hee knowes at what to laugh, and a valiant Man that he dares laugh: for he that laughs is juſtly reputed more wiſe, then at whom it is laughed. And hence I thinke proceeds that which in theſe later formall times I have much noted; that now when our ſuperſtitious civility of manners is become a mutuall tickling flattery of one another, almoſt every man affecteth an humour of jeſting, and is content to be deject, and to deforme himſelfe, yea become foole to no other end that I can ſpie, but to give his wiſe Companion occaſion to laugh: and to ſhew themſelves in promptneſſe of laughing is ſo great in wiſemen, that I thinke all wiſemen, if any wiſeman do reade this Paradox, will laugh both at it and me.

11. That the gifts of the Body are better then thoſe of the Minde.

I ſay againe, that the body makes the minde, not that it created it a minde, but formes it a good or a bad mind; and this minde may be confounded with ſoule without any violence or injuſtice to Reaſon or Philoſophy: then the ſoule it ſeemes is enabled by our body, not this by it. My Body licenſeth my ſoule to ſee the Worlds beauties through mine eyes; to heare pleaſant things through mine eares; and affords it apt Organs for the conveiance of all perceivable delight. But alas! my ſoule cannot make any part, that is not of it ſelfe diſpoſed, to ſee or heare, though without doubt ſhe be as able and as willing to ſee behind as before. Now if my ſoule would ſay, that ſhee enables any part to taſte theſe pleaſures, but is her ſelfe onely delighted with thoſe rich ſweetneſſes which her inward eyes and ſenſes apprehend, ſhee ſhould diſſemble; for I ſee her often ſolaced with beauties, which ſhee ſees through mine eyes, and with muſicke which through mine eares ſhe heares. This perfection then my body hath, that it can impart to my minde all his pleaſures; and my minde hath ſtill many, that ſhe can neither teach my indiſpoſed part her faculties, nor to the beſt eſpouſed parts ſhew it beauty of Angels, of Muſicke, of Spheres, whereof ſhe boaſts the contemplation. Are chaſtity, temperance, and fortitude gifts of the mind? I appeale to Phyſitians whether the cauſe of theſe be not in the body, health is the gift of the body, and patience in ſickeneſſe the gift of the minde: then who will ſay that patience is as good a happineſſe, as health, when wee muſt be extremely miſerable to purchaſe this happineſſe. And for nouriſhing of civill ſocieties and mutuall love amongſt men, which is our chiefe end while wee are men; I ſay, this beauty, preſence, and proportion of the body, hath a more maſculine force in begetting this love, then the vertues of the minde: for it ſtrikes us ſuddenly, and poſſeſſeth us immoderately; when to know thoſe vertues requires ſome Iudgement in him which ſhall diſcerne, a long time and converſation betweene them. And even at laſt how much of our faith and beleefe ſhall we be driven to beſtow, to aſſure our ſelves that theſe vertues are not counterfeited: for it is the ſame to be, and ſeeme vertuous, becauſe that he that hath no vertue, can diſſemble none, but he which hath a little, may gild and enamell, yea and transforme much vice into vertue: For allow a man to be diſcreet and flexible to complaints, which are great vertuous gifts of the minde, this diſcretion will be to him the ſoule & Elixir of all vertues, ſo that touched with this, even pride ſhal be made humility; and Cowardice, honourable and wiſe valour. But in things ſeene there is not this danger, for the body which thou loveſt and eſteemeſt faire, is faire; certainely if it bee not faire in perfection, yet it is faire in the ſame degree that thy Iudgement is good. And in a faire body, I doe ſeldome ſuſpect a diſproportioned minde, and as ſeldome hope for a good in a deformed. When I ſee a goodly houſe, I aſſure my ſelfe of a worthy poſſeſſour, from a ruinous weather-beaten building I turn away, becauſe it ſeems either ſtuffed with varlets as a Priſon, or handled by an unworthy and negligent tenant, that ſo ſuffers the waſte thereof. And truely the gifts of Fortune, which are riches, are onely handmaids, yea Pandars of the bodies pleaſure; with their ſervice we nouriſh health, and preſerve dainty, and wee buy delights; ſo that vertue which muſt be loved for it ſelfe, and reſpects no further end, is indeed nothing: And riches, whoſe end is the good of the body, cannot be ſo perfectly good, as the end whereto it levels.

12. That Virginity is a Vertue.

I call not that Virginity a vertue, which reſideth only in the Bodies integrity; much leſſe if it be with a purpoſe of perpetuall keeping it: for then it is a moſt inhumane vice—But I call that Virginity a vertue which is willing and deſirous to yeeld itſelfe upon honeſt and lawfull termes, when juſt reaſon requireth; and untill then, is kept with a modeſt chaſtity of Body and Mind. Some perchance will say that Virginity is in us by Nature, and therefore no vertue. True, as it is in us by Nature, it is neither a Vertue nor Vice, and is onely in the body: (as in Infants, Children, and such as are incapable of parting from it). But that Virginity which is in Man or Woman of perfect age, is not in them by Nature: Nature is the greateſt enemy to it, and with moſt ſubtile allurements ſeeks the over-throw of it, continually beating againſt it with her Engines, and giving ſuch forcible aſſaults to it, that it is a ſtrong and more then ordinary vertue to hold out till marriage. Ethick Philoſophy ſaith, That no Vertue is corrupted, or is taken away by that which is good: Hereupon ſome may ſay, that Virginity is therefore no vertue, being taken away by marriage. Virginity is no otherwiſe taken away by marriage, then is the light of the ſtarres by a greater light (the light of the Sun:) or as a leſſe Title is taken away by a greater: (an Eſquire by being created an Earle) yet Virginity is a vertue, and hath her Throne in the middle: The extreams are, in Exceſſe; to violate it before marriage; in defect, not to marry. In ripe years as ſoon as reaſon perſwades, and opportunity admits, Theſe extreams are equally removed from the mean: The exceſſe proceeds from Luſt, the defect from Peeviſhneſſe, Pride and Stupidity. There is an old Proverb, That, they that dy maids, muſt lead Apes in Hell. An Ape is a ridiculous and unprofitable Beaſt, whoſe fleſh is not good for meat, nor its back for burden, nor is it commodious to keep an houſe: and perchance for the unprofitableneſſe of this Beaſt did this proverb come up: For surely nothing is more unprofitable in the Commonwealth of Nature, then they that dy old maids, becauſe they refuſe to be uſed to that end for which they were only made. The Ape bringeth forth her young, for the moſt part by twins; that which ſhe loves beſt, ſhe killeth by preſſing it too hard: so fooliſh maids ſoothing themſelves with a falſe conceit of vertue, in fond obſtinacie, live and die maids; and ſo not only kill in themſelves the vertue of Virginity, and of a Vertue make it a Vice, but they also accuſe their parents in condemning marriage. If this application hold not touch, yet there may be an excellent one gathered from an Apes tender love to Conies in keeping them from the Weaſel and Ferret. From this ſimilitude of an Ape & an old Maid did the aforeſaid proverb firſt ariſe. But alas, there are ſome old Maids that are Virgins much againſt their wills, and fain would change their Virgin-life for a Married: ſuch if they never have had any offer of fit Huſbands, are in ſome ſort excuſable, and their willingneſſe, their deſire to marry, and their forbearance from all diſhoneſt, and unlawful copulation, may be a kind of inclination to vertue, although not Vertue it ſelfe. This Virtue of Virginity (though it be ſmall and fruitleſſe) it is an extraordinary, and no common Vertue. All other Vertues lodge in the Will (it is the Will that makes them vertues.) But it is the unwillingneſſe to keep it, the deſire to forſake it, that makes this a vertue. As in the naturall generation and formation made of the ſeed in the womb of a woman, the body is joynted and organized about the 28 day, and so it begins to be no more an Embrion, but capable as a matter prepared to its form to receive the ſoule, which faileth not to inſinuate and inneſt it ſelfe into the body about the fortieth day; about the third month it hath motion and ſenſe: Even ſo Virginity is an Embrion, an unfaſhioned lump, till it attain to a certain time, which is about twelve years of age in women, fourteen in men, and then it beginneth to have the ſoule of Love infuſed into it, and to become a vertue: There is alſo a certain limited time when it ceaſeth to be a vertue, which in men is about fourty, in women about thirty years of age: yea, the loſſe of ſo much time makes their Virginity a Vice, were not their endeavour wholly bent, and their deſires altogether fixt upon marriage: In Harveſt time do we not account it a great vice of ſloath and negligence in a Huſband-man, to overſlip a week or ten dayes after his fruits are fully ripe; May we not much more account it a more heynous vice, for a Virgin to let her Fruit (in potentia) conſume and rot to nothing, and to let the vertue of her Virginity degenerate into Vice, (for Virginity ever kept is ever loſt.) Avarice is the greateſt deadly ſin next Pride: it takes more pleaſure in hoording Treaſure then in making uſe of it, and will neither let the poſſeſſor nor others take benefit by it during the Miſers life; yet it remains intire, and when the Miſer dies muſt come to ſom body. Virginity ever kept, is a vice far worſe then Avarice, it will neither let the poſſeſſor nor others take benefit by it, nor can it be bequeathed to any: with long keeping it decayes and withers, and becomes corrupt and nothing worth. Thus ſeeing that Virginity becomes a vice in defect, by exceeding a limited time; I counſell all female Virgins to make choyce of ſome Paracelſian for their Phyſitian, to prevent the death of that Vertue: The Paracelſians (curing like by like) ſay, That if the lives of living Creatures could be taken down, they would make us immortall. By this rule, female Virgins by a diſcreet marriage ſhould ſwallow down into their Virginity another Virginity, and devour ſuch a life & ſpirit into their womb, that it might make them as it were, immortall here on earth, beſides their perfect immortality in heaven: And that Vertue which otherwiſe would putrifie and corrupt, ſhall then be compleat; and ſhall be recorded in Heaven, and enrolled here on Earth; and the name of Virgin ſhall be exchanged for a far more honorable name, A Wife.