CHAP. 1. [...] admires Gods Majesty, and is inflamed with a deepe desire of praising him.

GREAT art Psal. 147. 5. Thou, (O Lord) and greatly to be praised: great is thy power, [...] and thy wisedome is infinite. [Page 2] And man, who being a part of what thou hast created, is desi­rous to praise thee; this man bearing about his owne mortali­ty with him, carrying about him a testimony of his owne sinne (even this testimony, That God Iames 4. 6. resisteth the proud;) yet this Man, this part of what thou has [...] created, is desirous to praise thee thou so sweetly provokest him that he even delighteth to prai [...] thee: For thou hast created u [...] for thy selfe, and our heart can not be quieted till it may find repose in thee. Grant me (Lord to know and understand what ought first to doe, whether ca [...] upon thee, or praise thee? an [...] which ought to be first, to know thee, or to call upon thee?

2. But who can rightly cal up thee, that is yet ignorant of thee for such an one may, in stead [...] thee call upon another. Or a [...] thou rather (first) called upon that thou mayest so come to b [...] [Page 3] knowne? but how then shall Rom. 10. 14. they call on him, in whom they have not beleeved? and how [...]hall they beleeve without a Preacher? And againe, They Mat. 7. 7. [...]hall praise the Lord that seeke [...]fter him: For, They that [...]eeke, shall finde; and finding, [...]hey shall praise him. Thee will seeke, O Lord, calling upon [...]ee; and I will call upon thee, [...]eleeving in thee: for thou hast [...]eene declared unto us. My faith O Lord) cals upon thee, which [...]ou hast given me, which thou [...]st inspired into me; even by the [...]anity of thy Sonne, and by [...]e ministery of thy Preacher. He mea [...]e either the Holy Ghost, or S. Am­brose, who converted him.

CHAP. 2. Man hath his being from God; [...]and that God is in Man, and Man in God.

ANd how shall I call up­on my God, my Lord, [Page 4] and God? because that when invoke him, I call him into m [...] selfe: and what place is there [...] me, fit for my God to come in to mee by, whither God ma [...] come into me; even that Go [...] which made Heaven and Earth Is it so, my Lord God? is the any thing in me capable of the [...] Nay, can both Heaven and ea [...] which thou hast made, and which thou hast made me, any wise containe thee?

2. Or else because whatsoe [...] Is, could not subsist witha [...] thee, must it follow thereup that what soever hath being indued with a capability of th [...] since therefore I also am son [...] what, how doe I intreat the [...] come into me, who could not unlesse thou wert (first) in [...] For I am not now in Hell; [...] yet thou art there: For if I [...] Psal. 132. 8. downe into Hell, thou art t [...] also. I should therefore not O God, yea I should have [Page 5] being at all, unlesse thou wert in [...]e: or rather, I could not one, unlesse I had my being in [...]; [...]f whom, and through whom, Rom. 11. 36. and to whom are all things. E­ [...]en so it is, Lord, even so. Wher­fore (then) doo. I invoke thee, [...]eeing I am already in thee? or whence canst thou come into [...]e? For whither shall I goe? [...]eyond heaven and earth, that [...] thence my God may come [...] to me, who hath said, The hea­ [...]en and earth doe I fill. Ier. 23. 24.

CHAP. 3. [...]od is wholly every where, and is [...] by parts contained by the Creature.

DOe therefore the Heaven and earth containe thee, [...]eing thou fillest them? or doest [...]ou fill them, and there yet re­ [...]aines an overplus of thee, be­ [...]ause they are not able to com­prehend [Page 6] thee? If so, into what doest thou powre whatsoever re­maineth of thee after heaven and earth are filled? Hast thou need to be contained by something thou who containest all things seeing that what thou fillest, by containing them thou fillest for those vessels which are full o [...] thee, As vessels do to water, which they preserve from spilling. adde no stability to thee for were they broken, thou a [...] not shed out: and when thou a [...] shed out upon us, thou art no spilt, but thou raisest us up; no art thou scattered, but thou ga­therest up us: but thou who fil [...] lest all, with thy whole sell doest thou fill them all.

2. Or because all things can­not containe all of thee, doe the receive a part of thee; and doe a [...] at once receive the same part o [...] thee? or, severall capacities, se­verall parts; and greater things greater parts; and lesse, lesser. Is therfore one part of thee grea­ter, or another lesser? or art tho [...] [Page 7] All every where, and nothing containes thee wholly?

CHAP. 4. An admirable description of Gods Attributes.

1. WHat art thou there­fore, O my GOD? What, but the Lord God? For Psal. 18. 31. who is God but the Lord? or who hath any strength besides our God? Oh thou supreme, most excellent, most mighty, most omnipotent, most merci­full and most just; most secret and most present; most beauti­full and most strong; constant and incomprehensible; immuta­ble, yet changing all things; ne­ver new, and never old; renuing all things, & insensibly bringing proud men into decay; ever a­ctive, and ever quiet; gathering together, yet never wanting; up­holding, filling, and protecting; [Page 8] creating, nourishing and perfe­cting all things; still seeking, al­though thou standest in need [...] nothing.

2. Thoulovest, yet art no transported; art jealous, but without feare; thou doest re­pent, but not grieve; art angry but coole still. Thy works tho [...] changest, but not thy counsaile takest what thou findest, never losest ought. Thou art never nee­dy, yet glad of gaine; never co­vetous, yet exactest advantage Thou hast Super­erogatur tibi: which the Romish Catholike translates thus; By our super­erogation thou be­commest our deb­tor: And notes in the margine, God ma­keth us able to doe workes of Supererogation: Nosuch matter: for th [...] words are, Supererogatur tibi, & debes, (not, ut de bea [...], as they read it.) Besides, the Text hath a comm [...] [...], and cannot therfore be all put into one sentenc [...] Lastly, the Father here speakes of Gods Attributes, which Supererogation is none, I tr [...]w See the Preface. superabundance o [...] all things, yet art still owing; and who hath any thing which is no [...] thine? Thou payest debts, ye [...] owest nothing; forgivest debts yet losest nothing. And wha [...] shall we say, my God, my life my holy delight: or what ca [...] [Page 9] any man say when he speakes of [...]e? And woe to them that take nothing in thy praise, see­ing those that speake most, are [...] dumbe in it.

CHAP. 5. He prayes for forgivenesse of sinnes, and the love of God.

VVHo shall so medi­ate for mee, that I may repose in thee? Who shall [...]cure thee to enter into my [...]rt; and so to inebriate it, that [...]ay forget my own evils, and [...]brace thee, my onely good? [...]hat art thou to me? let mee [...]de grace to speake to thee. VVhat am I to Thee, that [...]ou shouldest command mee [...]oue thee, and be angry with [...], yea and threaten mee with [...] mischiefes, unlesse I do love [...]e Is it to be thought a small [...]sery in it self, not to love thee [Page 10] Woe is me! answer me for thy mercies sake, O Lord my God, what thou art unto me; Say un­to my soule, I am thy salvation. Psal. 35. 3. Speake it out, that I may heare thee. Behold, the eares of my heart are before thee, O Lord; open them, and say unto my soule, I am thy salvation. I will runne after that voice, and take hold of thee. Hide not thy face from me, that whether I dye, or not dye, I may see it.

2. My Soules house is too streight for thee to come into: let it be inlarged by thee: 'tis ruinous, but doe thou repaire it. There bee many things in it (I both confesse and know) which may offend thine eyes, but who can clense it? or to whom but thee shall I cry? Cleanse me, O Psal. 19. 12 Lord, from my secret sinnes, and from strange sinnes deliver thy servant; I beleeved, and there­fore Psal. 116. 10. I wil speake. Thou knowest, O Lord, that I have confessed [Page 11] my sinnes against mine owne selfe, O my God; and thou for­gavest the iniquity of my heart. I will not pleade with thee, who Ier. 2. 29. art Truth: and I will not deceive my selfe, lest mine iniquity be a falle witnesse to it selfe. I will not therefore pleade with thee: For if thou (Lord) shouldst be Psal. 130. 3. extreme to marke what is done amisse, O Lord, who may abide it?

CHAP. 6. That he hath received all bles­sings from God: and how hee hath beene preserved by him.

YEt suffer me to pleade be­fore Gen. 18. 27. From hence to the end of this first Booke thee most divine meditations upon Gods providence. thy Mercy seate, e­ven mee, who am but dust and ashes: once again let me speake, seeing 'tis thy Mercie to which I addresse my speech, and not man who is a mocker. Yet even thou perhaps doest smile at me; but [Page 12] turning, thou wilt pitty mee. What is it that I would say, O Lord my God, but even this; that I know not whence I came hither; into this, a dying life (shall I call it) or a living death rather? And then did the com­forts of thy mercies take me up, as I have heard it of the parents of my flesh, out of whom, and in whom thou sometimes didst forme me, for I my selfe cannot remember it. The comfort there­fore of a womans milk did then entertaine me: yet did neither my mother nor nurses fill their own brests; but thou, O Lord, didst by them afford a nourishment fit for my infancy, even accor­ding to thine owne institution, and those riches of thine, rea­ching to the root of all things. Thou also ingraftedst in mee a desire to sucke no more than thou supplyedst them withall; and in my Nurses, to afford mee what thou gavest them: for they [Page 13] were willing to dispense unto mee with proportion, what thou supplyedst them with in abun­dance. For it was a He alludes to that in 1. Tim. 2. 15. She shall be saved in child-bea­ring. blessing to them, that I received this bles­sing from them; which yet was rather by them, than from them. For all good things proceed from thee, O GOD, and from my GOD commeth all my Salus uni­versa. healthfulnesse. And so much I observed afterwards, when thou didst cry unto me by those instincts of nature which thou induedst, mee withall, both in­wardly and outwardly. For then first knew I how to sucke; and to hee contented with what did please me, and to cry at nothing so much as what offended my flesh. After wards I began a little to laugh; first sleeping, and then waking: for thus much was told me of my selfe and I easily belee­ved it, for that we see other In­fants doe so too. For these things of my selfe I remember not.

[Page 14] 2. And behold, by little and little I came on to perceive where I was; and I had the will to sig­nifie what I would have, to those that should helpe me to it: but I could not yet cleerely enough expresse my desires to them; for these were within mee, and they without me; nor could the ghesse of their senses dive into my mea­ning. Thereupon would I flut­ter with my limbes, and sputter out some words, making some other few signes; as well as I could; but could not get my selfe to be understood by them: and when people obeyed mee not, either for that they under­stood me not; or lest what I de­sired should hurt me; then how would I wrangle at those elder servants that were to tend thee, and the children that did not aptly humour me, and I thought to revenge my selfe upon them all, with crying. And this is, as I have learn'd, the fashion of all [Page 15] Children, (that I could heare of:) and such an one was I, as those who brought mee up told me: although they may be said not to know so much, rather thā to know it. And now behold, my infancie is dead long agoe, yet I live still. But thou, O Lord, who both livest forever, and in whom nothing dyes, (because that before the foundations of the World, and before every thing else, that can be said to be Before; thou art both God and Lord of all which thy selfe hath created; and in whose presence are the certaine causes of all un­certaine things, and the immu­table patternes of all things mu­table, with whom doe live the eternall reasons of all these con­tingent chance med leyes, for which we can give no reason) tell (I pray thee, O God) unto me thy suppliant: Thou who art mercifull, tell mee who am miserable; did my infancy suc­ceed [Page 16] to any other age of mine that was dead before; even to that which perhaps I past in my mothers belly▪ for something have I heard of that too, and my selfe have seene women with great bellies.

3. What also passed before that age, O God my delight? Was I any where, or any body? for I have none to tell me thus much: neither could my Father and Mother, nor the experience of others, nor yet mine owne memory. Doest thou laugh at me for enquiring these things, who commandest me to praise and to confesse to thee for what I knew? I confesse unto thee, O Lord of heaven and earth, and I sing praises unto thee for my first being and infancy, which I have no memory of: and thou hast given leave to Man, by o­thers to conjecture of himselfe, and upon the credit of women to beleeve many things that con­cerne [Page 17] himselfe. For even then had I life and being, and towards the end of mine infancie, I sought for some significations to ex­presse my meaning by unto o­thers. Whence could such a li­ving creature come, but from thee, O Lord? or hath any man the skill to frame himselfe? or is any veyne of ours, by which be­ing and life runnes into us, deri­ved from any originall but thy workmanship, O Lord, to whom Being and Living are not severall things, because both to Be and to Live in the highest degree, is of thy very essence: For Thou are the highest, and thou art not changed; neither is this present day spent in thee, although it be brought to an end in thee; because even all these have a fixt Being in thee; nor could have their wayes of pas­sing on, unlesse thou upheldest them. And because thy yeeres Psal. 102. 27. faile not, thy yeeres are but this [Page 18] very day. And how many so­ever, ours or our Fathers dayes have beene, they have all passed by this one day of thine: and from that day have they received their measures and manners of being; and those to come shall so also passe away, and so also re­ceive their measures and varieties of beings. But thou art the same still; and all To Morrowes and so forward, and all Yesterdaies and so backward, thou shalt make present in this day of thine; yea and hast made present. What concernes it me? If any under­stand not this, let him rejoyce notwithstanding; saying, What is this mystery? Let him so al­so rejoyce, and rather love to finde in not finding it out, than by finding it, not to finde thee with it.

CHAP. 7. That even his Infancy was sub­ject to sinne.

1. HEarken to me, O God! Woe to the sinnes of men: Yet when man sayes thus, thou hast mercie upon him: be­cause him thou hast created, but sinne in him thou hast not made. Who shall bring to my remem­brance the sinne of my infancy? for in thy sight can no man bee Iob 25. 3. cleane from his sinne; no not an Infant of a day old. Who will put mee in minde of this? any such a little one, in whom I now observe, what of my selfe I re­membred not? Wherein did I then sinne? in that I cryed too fiercely after the pap? For if I should doe so at these yeeres, crying, (though not to sucke a­gaine, but after such foode as is convenient for my growth) I [Page 20] should most justly be laugh'd at and reprehended for it. Even then therefore did I something worthy to be blamed: but for that I could not understand such as reprehended mee, therefore would neither custome nor rea­son suffer me to bee corrected. For as we grow towards discre­tion, we root up and cast out such childishnesse: nor have I seene any man (knowing what he doth) who purging out bad things, casts the good away also. But whether may this passe for good, (considering the time) by crying to desire, what would have hurt me being given; and by being so sullenly froward at people that did not humour me; even at yong and old, and mine owne parents too; yea and figh­ting (as fiercely as I could) at diuers other discreeter persons, that did not Cockney me in eve­ry thing; and because they o­beyed not my commands, which [Page 21] had beene hurtfull to me to have beene obeyed. So that it is not the minde of Infants that is harmelesse, but the weaknesse of their childish members. I my selfe have seene and observed a little Baby to be already jealous; and before it could speake, what How early malicious envie comes to expresse it selfe. an angry and a bitter looke it would cast at another childe that suckt away it's milke from it.

2. Who knowes not this? That Mothers and Nurses pro­fesse, indeed to expiate these things, by I know not what re­medies. But may this passe for innocency; that a Baby full fed, should not endure a poore Fo­ster-childe to share with him in a fountaine of milke plen­tifully and freshly flowing, though destitute of succour, and having but that onely nou­rishment to sustaine it's poore life withall. But these childish­nesses are with pleasure borne [Page 22] withall: not because they be in themselves eyther none or small faults; but for that they will va­nish with age: Which though they may in this age be allowed of; yet are they with no pati­ence to bee indured in an elder body. Thou therefore, O Lord my God, who hast given both life and body to the Infant; which as we see thou hast furni­shed with senses, compacted with limbes, beautified with shape, and for his generall good and safety, hast armed all the endevours of the whole Crea­ture: even thou commandest me to praise thee for these things, and to confesse and sing unto thy Psal. 102. 1. Name, O thou most high! Be­cause thou art a God omnipo­tent and good, although thou hadst done no more but these things which none else can doe, but thou alone, from whom all proportion floweth; O thou most beautifull, which fashion­est [Page 23] all, and after thine owne me­thod disposest all.

3. This Age therefore of my life, O Lord, of which I remem­ber not any passages; concer­ning which I must give credit to others relation, which (notwith­standing) that I have passed, as I conjecture by other Infants (al­though these tokens may very strongly assure my conjecture) it irkes mee to reckon unto the rest of that life which I leade in this world; seeing that in regard of the darknesse of my forgetful­nesse of it, it is like that part which I passed in my Mothers wombe. Now, if I were shapen in iniquity, and in sinne concei­ved Psal. 51. 5. by my Mother; where, I be­seech thee, O my God, in what place, Lord, was I (thy servant) where or when was I innocent? But behold I now passe by that age, (for what have I to do with it?) whereof I can call nothing at all to memory.

CHAP. 8. A description of his Childhood.

1. GRowing on from the state of Infancie, came I not into my Childehood; or rather came not that into mee, and succeeded unto my Infancy? nor yet did my Infancy depart: for whither went it? though now it were no more: for an In­fant I was no longer, that could not speake; seeing now I began to prove a pretty prating Boy. And this I well remember, and I afterwards observed how I first learn'd to speake. For my elders did not teach me this abi­lity, by giving of mee words in any certaine order of teaching, (as they did letters afterwards) but by that minde which Thou my God gavest mee, I my selfe with gruntings, varieties of voy­ces, and various motions of my [Page 25] body, strove to expresse the con­ceits of mine owne heart, that my desire might be obeyed; but could not bring it out, either what I would have, or to whom I desired. Then, I settled in my memory when they named any thing; and when at that name they moved their bodies toward that thing, I observed it, and ga­thered thereby, that that word which they then pronounced, was the very name of the thing which they shewed me.

3. And that they meant this (or that) thing, was discovered to me by the motion of their bodies, even by that naturall lan­guage (as it were) of all nations; which expressed by the counte­nance and cast of the eye, by the action of other parts, and the sound of the voice; discovers the affections of the mind, either to desire, enjoy, refuse, or to doe a­ny thing. And thus words in di­vers sentences, set in their due [Page 26] places, and heard often over, I by little and little collected, of what things they were the signes; and having broken my mouth to the pronunciation of them, I by them expressed mine owne purposes. Thus (with those whom I conversed withall) did I com­municate the expressions of mine owne desires; and ventured thereby upon the troublesome society of humane businesses, de­pending all this while upon the authority of my parents, and be­ing at the becke of my Elders.

CHAP. 9. The hatred that children beare to Learning, and their love to playing.

1. O God, my God! what miseries and what moc­keries did I finde in that age; when as being yet a Boy, obedi­ence to my Teachers was pro­pounded [Page 27] unto me, as the meanes to live by another day; that in this world I might grow fa­mous, and prove excellent in Tongue-sciences, which should get me reputation amongst men, and deceitfull riches? Thereup­on was I set to schoole, to get Learning; whereby little knew I (wretch that I was) what pro­fit might be obtained; and yet if I proved trewantly at my Booke, I was presently beaten. For this discipline was commen­ded by our Ancestours; and di­vers passing the same course be­fore our times, had chalked these troublesome waies out unto us, by which we were constrained to follow them; multiplying by this meanes both labour and sor­row to the sonnes of Adam.

2. We (little ones) observed, O Lord, how certaine men would pray unto thee; and wee learnd of them; thinking thee (as farre as we could apprehend) [Page 28] to be some great thing; who wert able, (and yet not appeare to our senses) both to heare and helpe us. For being yet a Boy, I beganne to pray unto thee, (my ayd and refuge) and I even brake the strings of my tongue in pray­ing to thee; & being but yet a lit­tle one, I prayed to thee with no small devotion, that I might not be beaten at schoole. And when thou heardest not (which yet was not to bee accounted folly in me) my corrections (which I then esteemed my greatest and most grievous affliction) were made sport at by my elders, yea and by mine owne parents, who wisht no hurt at all unto me. Is there any man, O Lord, of so great a spirit, cleaving to thee with so strong an affection; is there any man, I say, (for even a stupidity may other-whiles doe as much) who by devoutly ap­plying himselfe unto thee, is so resolutely affected, that hee can [Page 29] thinke so slightly of those rackes and strappadoes, and such varie­ty of torments, (for the avoiding whereof men pray unto thee with so much feare all the world over) that he can make sport at those who most bitterly feare them; as our parents laugh at those torments, which wee schoole-boyes suffer from our Masters? For we were no lesse afraid of the Rod, nor did wee lesse earnestly pray to thee for the scaping of it, than others did of their tortures. And yet for all our feares, we too often played the Trewants; either in writing, or reading, or thinking upon our lessons, lesse than was required of us.

3. For wee wanted not (O Lord) either memory or capaci­ty, (of which, considering our age, thou pleasedst to bestow e­nough upon us) but our minde was all upon playing; for which we were beaten, even by those [Page 30] Masters, who had done as much themselves. But elder folkes Idlenesses, must (forsooth) bee called Businesse, and when chil­dren doe the like, the same men must punish them; and yet no man pitties, either childrens pu­nishments, or mens follies, or eyther. But perhaps some indif­ferent Iudge might account mee to be justly beaten, for playing at Ball, being yet a Boy, because by that sport I was hindred in my Learning, by which, when I came to be a man, I was to play the foole more unbeseemingly: as my Master, who now beat me, often did; who if in any tri­fling Question he were foyled by another Schoolemaster, he was presently more rackt with cho­ler and envy at him, than I was, when at a Match at Tennis-ball, I lost the Game to my play-fel­low.

CHAP. 10. How for his play he neglected his parents commandements.

1. ANd yet I offended, O Lord God! thou dispo­ser and Creator of all naturall things, onely of sinnes not the ordainer. I sinned, O Lord my God! in doing contrary to the commandements of my parents, and of those Masters: for I might afterwards have made good use of my learning, which they were desirous I should ob­taine, whatsoever purpose they had in it. For I disobeyed them not out of desire of choosing bet­ter courses; but all out of a desire to play: aspiring to be Captaine at all sports, and to have mine eares tickled with fained Fables, to make them itch the more glowingly: the like desperate cu­riosity also sparkling through [Page 32] mine eyes, after the showes and playes frequented by my elders: the Authors whereof are estee­med to gaine so much honour by it, that almost all the Spectators wish the like to their owne chil­dren; whom for all that they suffer to bee beaten, if by such Stage-playes they bee hindred from their studies, by which they desire them to arrive one day to the ability of making the like. Looke downe upon these things mercifully, O Lord, and deliver us that now call upon thee: de­liver also those that doe not yet call upon thee; that they may call upon thee, and thou maist deliver them.

CHAP. 11. How he fell sicke, and how re­covering, his Baptisme was deferred.

1. I Had heard (being yet a Boy) of eternall life promi­sed unto us through the humility of thy Sonne our Lord God, de­scending even to our pride: And I was then signed with the signe of his Crosse This was the practise of the Pri­mitive times: by which religious parents devoted their chil­dren unto Christ, long before their Baptisme; which in those dayes was defer­red till they were able to answer for themselves., and was seasoned with his salt, so soone as I came out of my Mothers wombe, who greatly trusted in thee. Thou sawest, O Lord, when being yet a Boy, and was one day taken with a paine in the stomacke, I suddenly fell into a Fit, very like to dye. Thou sawest, O my God, (for thou wert my keeper) with what earnestnesse of mind, and with what faith, I importu­ned the piety both of mine owne Mother, and of thy Church the Mother of us all; for the Bap­tisme [Page 34] of thy Christ, my Lord God. Whereupon the Mother of my flesh being much porple­xed, (for that in a chast heart, and faith in thee, she most lo­vingly Gal. 4. 19. even travailed in birth of my eternall salvation,) did ha­sten with great care to procure me to bee initiated and washed with thy wholsome Sacraments, (I first confessing thee, O Lord Iesus This con­fession was done by re­peating of the Creed, as we doe be­fore Bap­tisme at this day., for the remission of sins) but that I presently recovered upon it. Vpon my recovery was my cleansing deferred: as if it were necessary that I should yet be more defiled, if I lived longer: because (forsooth) This was the reason why Bap­tisme was deferred, which Saint Augustine here findes fault with­all. God would not suffer our Father to be baptized in his sicknesse: for then bad the Church lost a most glorious Minister; for by the Canons of the Church, no man could bee a Bishop, who had beene baptised in his bed: because such an one see­med to be baptized rather out of necessity, than saith, which would be scandalous to a Bishop. the guilt contracted by the filth of sinne, were both greater and more dangerous after Baptisme, than before.

[Page 35] 2. Thus did I then beleeve, as also my Mother and the whole House, except my Father onely; who did not for all this overthrow the power of my Mothers piety in me, to the hin­drance of my beleeving in Christ, although himselfe had not ye [...] beleeved in him. For she by all meanes endevoured, that thou my God shouldst bee my Father, rather than he. And here­in didst thou assist her to overcome her Husband, to whom (though the better of the two) she continued her service; wher­in she principally served thee, who commandest her to doe so. I beseech thee, O my God, (for I would gladly know, if thou wert pleased to tell me) to what purpose was my Baptisme then deferred; whether it were more for my good that the reynes of sinne were (as it were) then inlar­ged, or that they should not have bin inlarged at all? whence [Page 36] therefore comes it, that my eares are on all sides so beaten with this noise; The Anci­ents defer­red Baptis­me, either til age, when the heates of sinne were well ouer; or till mar­riage, till they had got a remedy a­gainst it; and then did they wash away all their former sinnes toge­ther. And till then they thought they might take liberty; see­ing those sins were to be washt away; and so not to be imputed. Saint Au­gustine misliketh this. Let him alone, let him doe what he will; for hee is not yet baptized: whereas up­on any doubt of bodily health, we doe not say, let him be more dangerously wounded, for he is not yet cured? How much bet­ter had it beene for mee to have beene speedily cured, that by my friends diligence and my owne, so much might have bin wrought in me, that my soule having re­ceived health, might have beene safe under thy protection, who hadst given it? This verily had beene the better course. But how many, and what violent waves of temptation did seeme to threa­ten me after my childhood, those my Mother full well knew; and desired to commit, both those temptations by which I was af­terward to be new moulded; as me also, the worke it selfe, unto thy disposing.

CHAP. 12. He is forced to his Booke: which God turned to good purpose.

1. BVt in this my childhood (wherein there was lesse feare of me than in my youth) I loved not my Booke, and I ha­ted to be forced to it: yet was I held to it notwithstanding; wherein they did very well for me; but I did not well for my selfe: for I would never have ta­ken my learning, had I not beene constrained to it. For no man does well against his will: though that which hee does bee good. Nor did they that forced mee to it, very well; but it was thou, my God, that didst the good to me. For they that held-mee to my learning, did not understand to what I would apply it, unlesse to satiate the insatiable desires of a rich beggary, and a dishonou­rable glory.

[Page 38] 2. But thou before whom the [...]at. 10. 30 very haires of our heads are num­bred, didst convert the common errour of them all who pressed me to learning, to mine own be­nefit; and my errour, who would not learne, didst thou make use of for my punishment; of which I being then so little a Boy, and so great a sinner, was not unwor­thy. Thus by their meanes who did not well by me, didst thou well for me: and upon me who was a sinner, thou inflictedst a deserved punishment. For thou hast appointed it, and so it proves, Every mans inordinate affection shall be his owne affli­ction.

CHAP. 13. With what studies he was chief­ly delighted.

1. BVt what was the reason why of a Childe I should [Page 39] so naturally hate the Greeke Tongue when it was taught me, I cannot yet understand. Latine I loved very well: not that part which our first Masters enter us in, but that which the Gramma­rians teach us. For those first ru­diments, to reade, to write and Cipher, I accounted no lesse painefull and troublesome, than the Greeke. But whence should this proceed, but from the sin­fulnesse and vanity of this life? For I was but flesh, a wind that Psal. 78. 39 passeth away and commeth not againe. For those first rudiments were better, because more cer­taine, (seeing by them, that skill was and is wrought in me, that I am able to reade what I finde written, and of my selfe to write what I wil) than these latter; by which I was inforced to commit to memory the wandrings, of I know not what Aeneas, while I forgate mine owne: and to be­waile dead Dido, because shee [Page 40] kil'd her selfe for love; when in the meane time (wretch that I was) I with dry eyes endured my selfe then dying towards thee, O God my life! For what can be more miserable than a wretch that pitties not himselfe; one bemoaning Didoes death, caused by loving of Aeneas, and yet not lamenting his own death, caused by not loving of thee?

2. O God, thou light of my heart, thou bread of the internall mouth of my soule, and thou fir­mest knot, marrying my soule and the bosome of my thoughts together, I did not love thee, and I committed fornication against thee, while in the meane time every one applauded mee with Well done, well done. But the love of this world is fornication Iam. 4. 4. against God: which so applauds and encourages a spirituall for­nicator, that it is even a shame for a man to be otherwise. But I bemoan'd not all this; but dead [Page 41] Dido I bewailed, that kil'd her selfe by falling upon the Sword: I my selfe following these lower creatures of thine, forsaking thee; and my selfe being earth; hasten­ing to the earth. But if I were forbidden to reade these toyes, how sorry would I be, for that I might not reade that which would make mee sorry. Such madnesses, were esteemed to bee more commendable and fluent learning, than the learning to write and reade.

3. But let my God now cry unto my soule, and let thy truth say unto me, It is not so, it is not so; that first kinde of learning was farre better: for behold I am readier to forget the wan­drings of Aeneas, and all such toyes, than I am to write and reade. True it is, that there are Curtaines at the entrance of Grammer-schooles; but they signifie not so much the Cloth of State to privacie, as serve for a [Page 42] blinde to the follies committed behinde them. Let not these Masters now cry out upon mee, whom now I am out of feare of; whilest I confesse to thee my God, what my soule delights in; and rest contented with the re­prehension of mine owne evill wayes, that I may love thy good ones. Let not those buyers or sellers of Grammar exclaime up­on me, for that if I aske them, whether that of the Poet bee true, that Aeneaes ever came to Carthage; the unlearned will answer, They know not; and the learned will deny it to bee true.

4. But if I aske them with what letters Aeneas name is written, every one that hath but learned so sarre, will pitch upon one truth, according to the agree­ment and will, whereby men at first made Rules for those Cha­racters. If I should aske againe, which of the two would bee [Page 43] most incommodious to the life of man to forget; to write and reade, or, these Poeticall ficti­ons? who sees not what any man would answer, that had not quite forgotten himselfe? I offended therefore being but a Boy, when in my affection I preferred those vaine studies to these more profitable; or rather indeed, I utterly hated these, and was in loue with those. But then, One and one makes two, and two and two makes foure, was a harsh Song to me; but The woodden Horse full of armed men, and the burning of Troy, and the Ghost of Creusa, was a most delightfull spectacle of vanity.

CHAP. 14. Of the Greeke and Latine tongues.

1. BVt why then did I hate the Greeke Grammari­ans that chant of such things? For Homer himselfe was skilfull in contriving such fictions, and is most delightfully wanton; but yet very harsh to mee being a schoole boy. I beleeve that Vir­gill is no lesse to Grecian chil­dren when they be compelled to learne him, as I was to learne Homer; for to say troth, the difficulty of learning a strange language, did sprinkle as it were with gall, all the pleasures of those fabulous narrations. For I understood not a word of it, yet they vehemently pressed me and with most cruell threatnings and punishments, to make me under­stand it. The time was also (when [Page 45] I was an infant) that I knew not a word of Latine; yet by marking I gate that without any feare or tormenting, even by my nurses pratlings to me, and the pretty tales of those that laught upon me, and the sports of those that plaid with me.

2. So much verily I learnt without any painefull burthen to mee of those that urged me, for that mine owne heart put me to it to bring out mine owne con­ceptions. Which I could never have done, had I not learnd di­vers words, not of those that taught me, but of them that talkt familiarly to me; in whose hea­ring I also brought forth what­soever I had conceived. Hereby it cleerely appeares that a free curiosity hath more force in childrens learning of languages, than a frightfull enforcement can have. But the unsetlednesse of that freedome, this inforce­ment restraines; Thy Lawes O [Page 46] God, yea Thy Lawes, even from the schoolemasters Ferula, to the martyrs Tryalls, being able to temper wholesome and bitter together; calling us backe by that meanes unto thy selfe, even from that infectious sweetnesse, which at first allured us to fall a­way from Thee.

CHAP. 15. His Prayer to God.

1. HEare my prayer O Lord, let not my soule faint un­der thy correction: nor let mee faint in confessing unto thee thine owne mercies, by which thou hast drawne mee out of all mine own most wicked courses: that thy selfe mightest from hence forward grow sweet unto me, beyond all those allurements which heretofore I followed; and that I might most intirely love thee, and lay hold upon thy [Page 47] hand with all the powers of my heart, that thou mightest finally draw mee out of all danger of temptation.

2. For behold O Lord my King: whatsoever good I have learned, being a boy, unto thy service let it be all directed, yea, whatsoever I speake, or write, or reade, or number, let all serve thee. For when I learned vaine things, thou didst discipline me: and in those vanities, thou for­gavest the sinfulnesse of my de­light in them. In those studies I learnt many usefull words, but those might have beene also lear­ned in studies not so vaine: which is (I confesse) the safest way for children to be trayned up in.

CHAP. 16. Against lascivious fables.

1. BVt woe unto thee, O thou Torrent of humane custome, who shall stoppe the course of thee? when wilt thou be drye? how long wilt thou continue tumbling the sonnes of Eve into that hugie and hidcous Ocean, which they very hardly passe, who are well shipped? Do I not reade in thee of Iupiter sometimes thundering, and some­time adulterating? but verily both these could not one person doe: but this is feyned, that hee might have authority to imitate true-acted Adultery; false thun­der the meane while playing the bawde to him. Yet which of our Penula­torum Ma­gistro [...]um: cloakt Ma­sters or gow­ned sirs. For Penula or Toga, the gowne or long cloake (which were both one) was the ha­bit of Phi­losophers & graver tea­chers. The Father here quipps at their affected gravity: as the Philosophers on the other side deryded the habit of the Christians, which they called Pallium; a loose habit buttoned under the chinne. Vpon which Tertullian wrote his incomparable booke De Pal­lio; which so tortures our Crittikes to understand. grave Masters can with [Page 49] any patience heare a man that should in his Schoole cry out saying, Homer feigned these, and ascribed mens faults unto the gods; but I had rather he had derived divine excellencies upon us. But more truely is it said, that Homer feyned these things indeed: and that by his attribu­ting divine excellencies to most wicked mortals, crimes might not be accounted crimes; so that whosoever shal commit the like, seemes not therein to imitate de­sperate people, but some heaven­ly Deities.

2. This notwithstanding O thou hellish torrent, are the sonnes of men cast into thee with rewards propounded to allure children to learne these fables; and a great solemnity is made of it, when tis pleaded for openly in the assembles, and in the sight of the lawes, which allow sti­pends to the Teachers over and a­bove the reward unto the schol­lers: [Page 50] yet (O Torrent) thou art still beating upon thy rocks, roa­ring out and crying, Here are fine words to bee learned, here Eloquence is attained; eloquence so necessary to perswade to busi­nesse, and with advantage to ex­presse sentences. But for all this should wee never so patheticall have understood these words The golden showre, The lappe The deceipt, The temple of hea­ven, and such others written [...] the same place; had not Ter [...]n [...] withall brought a lewd your man upon the stage, propoun­ding Iupiter to himselfe for a example of his adultery; wh [...] he beholds a certaine picture [...] the wall, wherein was set out t [...] the life, the story of Iupiter r [...]y­ning a golden showre into D [...] ­ [...]aes lappe, deceiving the simp [...] mayden by that meanes. S­how that young man provoke himselfe to lust, as if he had he a celestiall authority for it.

[Page 51] 3. But what God doe I imi­tate; saith hee? even that God who with a mighty thunder shakes the very Arches of hea­ven: may not I then frayle flesh and blood doe as much? But I for my part did as much unpro­voked, yea & gladly too. Plain­ly; by this filthy matter, are not these words so much the more commodiously learned, as by these words, is this filthy busi­nesse learned to bee the more confidently committed. I blame nor the words, which of them­selves are like vessels choyce and precious; but that wine of error which is in them, drunke to us by our intoxicated teachers. If we refused to pledge them, wee were beaten: nor had wee liber­ty to appeale unto any sober Iudges. All this notwithstan­ding, O my God, I, (in whose presence I now with securityre­member this) did willingly learne these things; and unhappy [Page 52] I, was for this accounted a youth of much towardlinesse.

CHAP. 17. The way of exercising youth in repeating and varying of ver­ses.

1. GIve me leave O my God, to tell thee something; and that of mine own wit, which was thy gift, and what dotages I spent it upon-My Master put a taske upon me, (troublesome e­nough to my soule) and that up­on termes of reward of commen­dations, or feare of shame and whipping: namely, That I should declame upon those words of Iuno expressing both her anger and sorrow, that shee could not keepe off the Trojane King from going into Italie: which words I had heard that Iuno never uttered; yet were we enforced to imitate the passages [Page 53] of these poeticall fictions; and to varie that into Prose which the Poet had expressed in verse. And hee decliamed with most applause, in whose action (ac­cording to the dignity of the person represented) there appea­red an affection neerest to anger or griefe, set out with words most agreeable to the matter.

2. But to what end was this, O my true life, my God? why was my declamation more ap­plauded than so many others of mine owne age and forme? Was not all this meere smoke and winde? and could no other sub­ject be found to exercise my wit and tongue in? Thy prayses O Lord, thy prayses, might have stayed the tender sprig of my heart upon the prop of thy Scriptures, that it might not have beene cropt off by these empty vanities, to bee catcht up as a prey by those flying spirits. For by more waies than one is there [Page 54] sacrrifice offered to the collap­sed Angels.

CHAP. 18. That men care more to observe the Rules of Grammar, than the Lawes of God.

1. BVt what wonder was it, if I were thus carryed towards vanity, and estranged from thee, O my God; wheneas such men were propounded to me to imi­tate, who should they deliver a­ny of their owne Acts (though not evill) with any Barbarisme or Soloecisme, they were utterly dasht out of countenance: but should they make a copious and neat Oration of their owne lusts, in a round and well followed stile; would take a pride to bee applauded for it. These things thou seest, O Lord, long suffe­ring, and of much mercy and truth, and thou keepest silence; [Page 55] but wilt thou be silent for ever? and forbeare to draw out of this horrible pit, that soule that seeks after thee, and that thirsts after thy pleasures? whose heart saith Psal. 27. 9. unto thee, I have sought thy face, and thy face Lord will I seeke. For I had straggled farre away from thy countenance in the mistynesse of my affections.

2. For we neither goe nor re­turne, from, or to thee, upon our feet, or by distance of spaces: or did that yonger brother seeke Post-horses, or Waggons, or Ships, flye away with visible wings, or take his journey by the motion of his hammes, that living in a farre Countrey, hee might prodigally waste that Luk. 15. portion, which thou hadst given him at his departure? A sweet Fa­ther, because thou gavest him his portion: yet farre sweeter to the poore wretch returning: for that he went from thee out of a vo­luptuous affection; that is to say, [Page 56] a darkned one; and such that is, which is farre from thy counte­nance. Behold, O Lord God, and patiently behold, as thou still doest, how diligently the sonnes of men observe the Rules of letters and syllables received from former speakers; and yet regard not the eternall covenants of everlasting salvation, received from thy selfe. Insomuch, that he who either holds or teaches the ancient Rules of pronunciati­on, if contrary to Grammar hee shall pronounce ominem, (that is a man) without H in the first syllable; he shall displease men more, than if against thy Rules he should hate a man. As if any man should thinke his enemy to be more pernicious to him, than that hatred of his own is, where­by he is set on against him; or imagine that hee does worse skath to another man by perse­cuting him, than he does to his own heart, by contriving enmity against him.

[Page 57] 3. And certainely there is no other inward knowledge of Letters, but this (Law of Nature) written in the conscience, Not to doe to another, what himselfe Mat. 7. 11. would not suffer. How secret art thou, O thou onely great God! which dwellest in the highest, and in silence, with an untyred destiny dispersing blindnesses for punishments upon unlawfull de­sires. When a man affects the credit of Eloquence, standing before a mortall Iudge, a multi­tude of mortals standing about him, inveighing against his Ad­versary with his fiercest hatred; he takes heed most watchfully, that his tongue trips not before men: but takes no heed at all, lest through the fury of his spirit he should destroy a man out of the society of men.

CHAP. 19. How he was more carefull to a­void barbarisme of speech, than corruption of manners.

1. IN the Road-way of these Customes lay I, wretched Boy, and upon that Stage I play'd my Prizes; where I more feared to commit a barba­risme in speaking, than I tooke care when I committed any, not to envie those that committed none. All this I declare and con­fesse to thee, my God, namely in what things I was by them applauded: to please whom, I then accounted equall to living honestly. For I then discerned not that whirle-poole of filthi­nesse whereinto I was cast from thine eyes. For in thine eyes, what was more filthy than I where also I displeased such as my selfe; with innumerable lyes [Page 59] deceiuing both my Tutor, and Masters, and Parents: all for love of play, out of a desire to see toyes, and of imitating them with a ridiculous unrestful­nesse.

2. Theevery also I commit­ted out of my Fathers Buttery and Table; eyther gluttony oft commanding mee; or that I might have something to give my play-fellowes, selling-mee their Babies, with which they were as much delighted as my selfe. In these play-games I be­ing often over-matcht, did with a vaine desire to be counted ex­cellent, aspire to winne, though by foule play. And what was I so unwilling to indure, and what if I found out the deceipt, would I so fiercely wrangle at, as even those very trickes which I would put upon others; and being my selfe taken with the manner, I would rather fall flat out, than yeeld to it.

[Page 60] 3. Is this that childish inno­cencie? It is not, LORD, it is not, LORD: I cry thy mer­cie, O my GOD: for wrang­lings about Nuts, and Balls, and Birds, are as much to boyes (yet under their Tutors and Masters) as the ill getting of Gold and Mannor Houses, and Slaves, is to Kings and to Governours. But this Boyes-play passes over as more yeeres come on, just as greater punishments follow af­ter the Ferula. Thou therefore, O our King, hast allowed of the Character of humility in the stature of Childehood, when once thou saydest; To such belongeth the Kingdome of God.

CHAP. 20. He thanketh God for his Bene­fits.

1. BVt yet, O Lord, thankes had beene due to thee, our God and most excellent Crea­tor, Governour of this Vniverse; although thou hadst not beene pleased to have brought me any further than that age of Child­hood. For even then a Being I had, yea Life and Senses; even then had I a care of mine owne wel-being, which is an Vestigi­um secre­tissimae unitatis. Hence did the Schoole­men bor­row their vestigium. impres­sion of that most secret unity of thine, whence I had my Being; in my Interio­re sensu: The Philosophers make three interior senses: 1. The con­mon sense (or Iudgement.) 2. The Fancy. 3. The Me­mory. To these he alludes: for these serve to receive and preserve the Species or Formes of things, offered unto them by the five outward senses of the body. inward sense preserved I the intirenesse of my outward senses; and in these slender facul­ties, [Page 62] was I delighted with the truth of meane conceipts. I would not willingly bee decer­ved; a fresh memory I had; in formes of speaking I was well tutored; by friendly usage I was made tractable. I avoyded all sadnesse, dejectednesse, and igno­rance; in such a little Creature, what was there not admirable, not commendable?

But all these are the gifts of my God: for I bestowed them not upon my selfe. Good en­dowments they were; and all these was I. Good therefore is Hee that made me; yea he is my God, and to him I rejoyce for all my good gifts, which of a Child I had. But here was my over­sight, that I sought not my selfe, and other pleasures, honours, and trueths in Him, but in his Crea­tures; and therefore rusht I my selfe upon sorrowes, disorders and errours. Thankes to thee my sweetnesse, my honour, my [Page 63] trust, and my God. Thankes to thee for all thy gifts: but be plea­sed to preserve them still vnto me, and thus shall my selfe bee preserved and thy Gifts shall be both increased and per­fected; yea and I shall be with thee; for my being is of thy giving. *⁎*

CHAP. 1. Hee enters upon the yeeres and sinnes of his Youth.

1. I Will now call to minde my over­passed impurities, and the fleshly corruptions of my Soule: not because I love them, but that I may love thee, O my GOD. For love of thy [Page 65] love I doe it; in the very bitter­nesse of my remembrance repea­ting over my most wicked cour­ses, that thou mayest onely grow sweet unto me; (thou sweetnesse never beguiling, thou happy and secure sweetnesse!) and recolle­cting my selfe out of that broken condition of mine, wherein I am piece-meale shattered asunder; while being turned away from thee alone, I squandred away my selfe upon many vanities.

2. For I even burnt in my youth heretofore to bee satia­ted in these lower pleasures; and I dared even to grow wilde a­gaine, with these various and shaddowie loves: my beau­ty withered away, and I even stanke in thine eyes; pleasing my selfe all this while, and desirous to content the eyes of mortals.

CHAP. 2. He accuseth his Youth spent in the heat of lustfulnesse.

1. ANd what was it that I delighted in, but to love, and to bee beloved? but love kept not that moderation of one mindes loving another minde, as the lightsome bounder of true friendship; but out of that pud­dly concupiscence of my flesh, certaine mists and bubblings of youth fumed up, which be clou­ded and so overcast my heart, that I could not discerne the beauty of a chaste affection, from a fogge of impure lustful­nesse. Both did confusedly boyle in me, and ravisht away my un­stayed Youth over the downe­fals of unchaste desires, and drencht me over head and eares in the very whirle-poole of most heinous impurities. Thy wrath [Page 67] all this while grew upon me, and I perceived it not. I was now growne deafe by the continuall crashing of that Chaine of my frailety, (thy punishment upon the pride of my soule) and I straggled further from thee, and thou let'st me aloue, and I was tumbled up and downe, and I was even spilt and powred out, yea and I boyled over in my for­nications, and tho [...] heldest thy peace yet. O my Ioy, how slow art thou! Thou then heldest thy peace, and then wandred I fur­ther and further from thee, into more and more fruitlesse seed­plots of sorrowes, with a proud dejectednesse; and an untyred wearinesse.

2. Oh for somebody that would then have Modula­retur. sweetned my misery, and have converted to good use the fading beauties of these newest vanities! that would then have prefixt some bounds to their tempting sweetes, that so [Page 68] the high-tides of my youth might have spent their force at last upon the shore of the mar­riage bed; if so be the calmnesse those Tides might bee brought unto, would not have been con­tented with the delight of having children, as thy Law prescribes, O Lord: even thou, who this way formest the offspring of our mortality, being able also with a gentle hand to blunt the prickles of those thornes, which were not suffered to grow; He alludes to 1 Cor. 7. to the earths bringing forth thornes after A­dams dri­ving out of Paradise. His whole meaning is, that though usually mar­ried people have thornes or troubles in the flesh, yet God could make a marriage so happy to him, as he had done to Adam in Paradise, where no thorn (or discontent) ever grew, which sprung not up till A­dam was ex [...]elled Paradise. He alludes to Heb. 12. 1. which witnesses are the Texts here quoted. 1 Cor. 7. 28. 1 Cor. 7. 1. 1 Cor. 7. 33. in thy Para­dise? For thy omnipotency is not very farfrom us, even when we be farfrom thee. But when I had once most heedfully heark­ned to the voyce of these clouds (of witnesses) of thine; Not­withstanding such shall have trouble in the flesh, but I spare [Page 69] you. And againe: It is good for a man not to touch a woman. And, Hee that is married careth for the things of this world, how he may please his wife.

3. Had I thereupon more at­tentively listned to those words, and made my selfe an Augu­stine was yet a youth & no Priest therefore this place makes for Continency in the Laity (which was indeed fre­quent in those dayes) and not of the Clergie onely. Eunuch Mat. 9. 12. for the kingdome of God, I might more happily have expected thy embracements. But I was too hot upon it (wretch that I was) pursuing still the violent course of mine owne streame, having left thee utterly: yea, & exceeded all thy prescriptions, nor did I escape thy scourges. For what mortall can avoyd them? For thou wert with me at every turne most mildly rigorous and ever and anone besawcing all my un­lawfull pastimes with most bit­ter discontentments: all to draw me on to seeke for such pleasures as were without such discontent. But where I might light upon such but thee. O Lord, I could [Page 70] not finde: But thee, who makest (as it were) some hardship in thy Commandement; and smi­test us, that thou maist break us, yea slayest us that we should not dye to thee-ward. Where was I, and how farre was I banished from those delights of thy house in that sixteenth yeere of the age of my flesh; at what time the madnesse of raging luff, (in which humane shamelesnesse takes too much liberty, not with­standing by thy Lawes it be for­bidden) exercised it's supreme dominion in mee, I giving over all my force unto it? my Parents tooke no care all this while by marriage to save mee from ruine; but their care was to have me learne to make a po­werfull Oration, and to prove a most perswasive Speaker.

CHAP. 3. Of his travayle for his studyes sake, and his Parents purpose in it.

1. NOw for that yeare were my Studies intermitted: whenas upon my returne from Madauris (a neighbour Citie wherein I had begunne to learne the principles of Grammar and Rethoricke) the expences for a further journey to Carthage, were provided for me: and that rather out of a brave minde my Father bare, then any ability in him, for hee was but a poore Freeman of Thagaste. To whom tell I all this? for to thee I tell it not; but before thee relate it to mine own kind, even to so much of mankind as may light upon these writings of mine. And, to what purpose doe I this? even that both my selfe, and whosoe­ver [Page 72] reades this, may bethink our­selves out of what depths we are to cry unto thee. For what is Psal. 130. 1. neerer to thine eares than the confessing heart, and the life dire­cted by faith? Who did not then highly commend my Father, for that even above the ability of his meanes he had furnished out his sonne with all necessaries for the taking of a farre journy for his studies sake? For many abler Cittizens did no such thing for their children. But yet this Fa­ther of mine never troubled him­selfe with any thought of How I might improve my selfe to­wards thee, or how chaste I were; so that I proved eloquent, though I were withall left undrest by thy tillage, O God, which art the onely, true, and good Land­lord of the field of my heart.

2. But whilest in that six­teenth yeere of my age I left go­ing to schoole, and upon some household necessities lived idlely [Page 73] at home with my parents, the bryers of uncleane desires grew ranke over my head, and there was no hand put to roote them out. Moreover, when my Fa­ther seeing me in the Bath, how the signes of Manhood began to bud in mee, and plumed already with a stirring youthfulnesse: (as if in this sight he had first re­joyced in hope of having grand­children by me) he gladly told it to my Mother; rejoycing (I say) at it in his wine, in which the world too oft forgets thee it's Creator, and in the basenesse of it's owne will, frowardly and weakely setting it's love up­on thy Creature in stead of thy selfe, who art divine and invisi­ble. But thou hadst already be­gun thy Temple in my Mothers brest, and laid the foundation of thine owne holy Habitation: whereas my Father was but a Catechumenus Cate­chume­nus: such a one as in the Primitive Church was s [...]t to learne his Cate­chisme, and the grounds of Religion: in which be was to an­swer for himselfe when he af­ter came to be baptized. as yet, one new­ly converted. She therefore was [Page 74] even startled with an holy feare and trembling. And though I were not as yet Nondū fideli: The Primitive Church cal'd none fideles but the bap­tized, al­though they were never so learned or devout be­leevers: but upon their [...] Ar [...]ic [...]es of Faith, in [...]e time of Baptisme, they were catled fide­les, faithful. [...] symbolo fidei, fide­les nomi­nantur. baptized; yet feared she those crooked wayes, in which they walke, who set thee behinde their backes, and not before their faces.

3. Woe is me! and dare I say that thou heldest thy peace, O my God, whilest I wandred further from thee? Is it so? Diddest thou indeede hold thy peace to me? And whose but thine were those words, which by my Mother, thy faithfull one, thou sangest in my eares? No­thing of which would at that time so for sinke into my heart, as to doe it. For shee comman­ded mee, and (as I well remem­ber) betweene her and me, with very much earnestnesse forewar­ned me, that I should not com­mit simple fornication; but espe­cially that I should never defile another mans wife. These see­med to me no better than Wo­mens [Page 75] advices, which would bee a shame for me to follow. But they were thine (indeed) and I [...] not: I thought thou [...]i [...]st held thy peace, and that she onely had spoken: She, by whom thou were not silent unto [...], and in her thy selfe wast [...] by the; even by mee [...] sonne, the sonne of thy [...] and thy servant. But all this whole I knew it not; and I [...] head long with such blind­nesse, that I was a shamed a­mongst my equals to bee guilty of lesse impudency than they were, whom I heard b [...]ag migh­tily of their naughtinesse: yea and so much the more boasting; by how much those they had beene [...]eastly: and I tooke plea­sure be doe it, not for the plea­sure of the act onely, but for the praise of it also.

4. What now is worthy of dispraise, if [...] be not? But I made my selfe worse than indeed [Page 76] I was, that I might not bee dis­praised; and when I wanted op­portunity to commit a naughti­nesse should make me as bad as the best, I would feyne my selfe to have done what I never did, that I might not seeme so much the more dastardly, as I was the more innocent; and that I might not bee counted so much the more faint-hearted, as I was the more chaste. Behold with what companions I walkt the streets of Babylon, and I wallowed my selfe in the my [...]e of it, as if I had reposed in a bed of Spices, and most precious Oyntments. And to make me cleave the faster to the very Center of sinne, my in­visible Enemy troad me downe, and seduced me, for that I was easie to be seduced. Yea and the Mother of my flesh, although her selfe were already fled out of Babylon, yet went she with the Ier. 51. 6. slowest, about providing of due remedies for me: for, as she had [Page 77] once advised mee to keepe my chastity, so she carried some re­spect withall, to what shee had heard her husband say of mee. And thereupon bethought her selfe to restraine what was both deadly and dangerous in mee, within the bonds of a matrimo­niall affection, if that infection in me could not otherwise be pa­red away by the quicke. But long she continued not in that care, because she fear'd withall, lest my hopes might be hindred by a she-clogge. Not those hopes of the next world, which my Mother reposed in thee: but the hope of Learning, which both my parents were desirous I should attaine unto. He, because he had little or no thought al­most of thee, and but vaine con­ceipts of me neither. She, because she made reckoning that those usuall courses of learning, would not onely be no hindrance, but a great furtherance towards my [Page 78] attaining of thee. For thus I con­jecture (to my best remem­brance) were the disposition of both my parents at that time. The r [...]y [...]es (in the meane time) of liberty to play were slackned towards me, beyond all temper of due severity, yea even to dis­so [...]enesse in whatsoever I affe­cted. And in all [...] there was amyst, depriving my sight; O my God, of the brightnesse of thy truth; and mine iniquity came from me, as if swelling from a fitnesse. Psal. 73. 7.

CHAP. 4. How he robbed a Peare-tree.

1. SV [...]y thy Law (O Lord) punishes [...]; yea, and this Law is so written in our hearts, that iniquity it selfe can­not blot it out. For what theefe does willingly abide another man to steale from him? [...]o not [Page 79] a rich theefe, him that is driven to steale upon necessity. Yet had [...] desire to commit theevery, and did it, compelled neither by [...]ger nor poverty; but even through a cloyednesse of wel­doing, and a pamperednesse of iniquity. For I stale that, of which I had enough of mine owne, and much better. Nor when I had done, cared I to en­joy the thing which I had stolne, but joyed in the theft and sinne itselfe. A Peare-tree there was in the Orchyard next our Vine­yard, well laden with fruit, not much tempting either for colour or taste. To the shaking and robbing of this, a company of lewd yong fellowes of us went, late one night, (having, accor­ding to our idle custome in the Game-places, continued our sportseven till that season) thence carryed we huge loadings, not for our lickerishnesse, but even to fling to the Hogs, having bit­ten [Page 80] off one piece. And all this wee did, not because we might doe it, but because we would doe it.

2. Behold my heart, O Lord, behold my heart, which thou hadst pitty upon in the very bot­tome of the bottomlesse pit. Now (behold) let my heart tell thee, what it sought for there, that I should be thus evill for nothing, having no other provo­cation to ill, but soule ill it selfe. Yet I loved it, I loved to undoe my selfe, I loved mine own fault, not so much that, for which I committed the fault, but even the very fault it selfe, of my beastly soule; shrinking backe thus from my hold-fast upon thee, even to utter destruction; not affecting any thing that had shame in it, but they very shame it selfe.

CHAP. 5. No man sinneth, but provoked by some cause.

THere is a comelines now in all beautifull bodies, both in Gold and Silver, and all things; and in the touch of flesh, sympathy pleases [...]. Each other sense hath his proper object answerably tempered. World­ly honour hath also it's grace, in commanding and overcomming by it's owne power: whence springs the thi [...]st of revenge. But yet, might a man obtaine all these, he were not to depart from thee, O Lord, not to decline from thy Law. The life also which here we live, hath its pro­per inticement, and that by rea­son of a certaine proportion of comelinesse of it's owne, and a correspondency with all these inferiour beauties. That friend­ship [Page 82] also which is amongst So­cieties, we see endeared with a sweet tye, even by reason of the union of many hearts.

2. Vpon occasion of all these and the like, is sinne committed, while through an immoderate inclination towards these, which are Goods but of the lowest al­loy, better and higher are left out; even thou out Lord God, thy Truth and thy Law. For these low things have their de­lights, but not hinglike my Lord God, who hath made these All: for in him is the righteous man delighted; and hee is the delici­ousnesse of the up [...]Word in heart. When [...]quirie is made after wickednesse, upon what cause it was committed, no other reason uses to bee beleeved but this, When then there hath appeared to be a possibility of the Appe­tites obteyning some one of those good things which we called of a loweralloy, or else a feare of [Page 83] losing it. For even these are beau­tifull and comely; although compared with those higher goods, and happy making ri­ches, they be but abject and con­temptible.

3. A man hath murthered ano­ther; why so? Either hee loved his wife or his estate; or hee would rob another, to get main­tenance for himselfe; or he stood in feare to lose some such thing by him; or being wronged, hee was all on fire to be revenged of him. Would any man commit a murther upon no provocation, but only upon a delight he takes in murthering? Who will be­leeve it? For as for that man said to be so stupidly and savage­ly Catiline. cruell, that he was evill and cruell meerely for cruelties sake; yet is there a cause assigned: Lest (sayes himselfe) my hand or heart should grow unactive with idlenesse. And why that? Why? Even because when hee [Page 84] had once made himselfe master of the Citie, through frequent ex­ecution of mischievousnesse, he might mount up unto honours, commands, and riches; and set himselfe above the feare of Law, and the difficulty hee found in getting meanes for the mainte­nance of his Family, and the con­sciousnesse of his owne villanies. Therefore even Catiline himselfe loved not his own villanies, but 'twas somthing else he loved, for whose sake he fell to cōmit them.

CHAP. 6. All those things which under the shew of good, invite us unto sin, are in God alone to bee found true and perfect.

1. WHat then was it that wretched I so loved in thee, O thou Theft of mine, thou deed of darknesse, which I committed in that 16. yeere of my age? Lovely thou wert not, [Page 85] because thou wert Theft. But art thou any thing, that I may reason the case with thee? Those Peares that we stole were faire to see to, for they were thy creature, O thou most beautifull of all, thou Creator of all, thou good God; God, thou Soveraigne good, and my true good: those Peares were faire indeed, but it was not those that my wretched soule desired; for I had store of better of mine own, and I beat downe those on­ly that I might steale. For having gathered them up, I flung them away, eating little of them but my own sin only, which I was extremely pleased with the injoy­ing. For if any bit of those Peares came within my mouth, the sweetest sawce it had was the sin of the eater.

2. And now, O LORD my GOD, I inquire what was it in that Theevery of mine, should so much delight me; and behold there appeares no loveli­nesse [Page 86] in it. I doe not meane such lovelinesse as there is seene in Iu­stice and Wisdome; no nor such as is in the minde and memory; or in the, senses and vegetable soule of man; nor yet such as the Starres are glorious and beauti­full withall in their Orbes; or the Earth or Sea replenished with their naturall off springs, which by daily growing, supply the roomes of the decayed. Nay, my Theft had not so much as that false colour or shaddow of good, that usually appeares in deceiving vices. For Pride imi­tates high spiritednesse; whereas thou alone art the highest over all. Ambition, what seekes it but honours and reputation? whereas thou art to be honoured above all things, and glorious for ever-more. The cruelty of Great ones desires to be feared; but who is to be feared but God alone? out of whose power what can be wrested? or when, [Page 87] or where, or which way, or by whom? The inticements of a­mourous inveiglers, desire to be loved; but yet is nothing more pleasurable than thy Charity, not in any thing loved more wholsomely than that Truth of thine, more bright and beautifull than any thing. Curiosity makes semblance to affect a desire of knowledge; whereas 'tis thou only that supereminently know­est all things. Yet ignorance and foolishnesse it selfe would yet be masked under the name of sim­plicity and innocency; even be­cause nothing can bee found more simple than thy selfe: and what is more innocent, seeing all thy workes are so averse from evill: Yea, Sloth pretends a de­sire of quietnesse: but what sta­ble rest is there besides the Lord? Expensivenesse affects to be cal­led plenty and abundance; yet art thou the fulnesse and never­faining plenty of most incorrup­tible [Page 88] sweetnes. Prodigality pre­tends a shew of liberality: but thou art the most flowing be­stower of all good things. Co­vetousnesse desires to possesse much: and thou possessest all. E­mulation contends for excellen­cy: but what so excellent as thou? Anger seeks revenge: but who revenges more justly than thou? Feare startles an unusuall and sudden chances, which skare away the thing loved, while it is warie for it's own security: but what can happen unusuall or sudden unto thee? or who can deprive thee of what thou lo­vest? Or where but with thee is there any settled security? Griefe pines away its selfe at it's losses, which desire tooke de­light to enjoy; even because it would no more be deprived, like as nothing can be lost to thee.

3. Iust thus does the soule commit a spirituall fornication, when she turnes from thee, sec­king [Page 89] those things without thee, which she can no where finde pure and untainted, till shee re­turnes againe unto thee. Thus all awkwardly imitate thee, even they that get themselves farre from thee, and who pride them­selves against thee: and yet by thus imitating thee, doe they de­clare thee to bee the Creator of the whole frame of nature, and consequently, that there is no place whither they can at all re­tire from thee. What therefore did I love in that theft of mine? and wherein did I thus awk­wardly and corruptly imitate thee? Was it, because I was dis­posed to doe contrary to thy Law, if but in shew, because by strong hand I could not: that being a prisoner, I might make shew of a counterfeit liberty, by doing that unpunished, which I had not power to doe under the assumed covert of thy Omnipo­tency?

CHAP. 7. He returnes thankes to God for remitting these sinnes, and for keeping him from many other.

1. BEhold, here is thy servant, fleeing from his Lord, and He aliudes to Ionas flight and Gourd. gotten under a shaddow. O rot­tennesse, O monster of life, O depth of death! could any thing please thee, that thou mightst not doe lawfully; and doe it too upon no other reason, but be­cause it was not lawfull? What reward shall I render unto the Lord, for that hee so gently brings these things to my re­membrance, that my soule is not affrighted at it? I will love thee (O Lord) and thanke thee, and I will confesse unto thy Name; because thou hast forgiven mee this crime, and these hainous deeds of mine: unto thy grace and mercie doe I ascribe, that [Page 91] thou hast dissolved my sinnes as it were Ice: yea unto thy grace doe I ascribe whatsoever evils I have not done. For what evill was not I apt enough to com­mit, who loved the sinne for the sinnes sake? Yea all I confesse to be forgiven me; both what evils I committed wilfully, and what by thy guidance I have not committed.

2. What man is he, who up­on consideration of his owne in­firmity, dares so farre to ascribe his chastity and innocency to his owne vertue, as that he thereup­on should love thee the lesse; as if thy mercy, (by which thou forgivest those that turne unto thee) had beene lesse necessary for him? Who soever now being effectually called by thee, hath obeyed thy voice, and declined those transgressions which hee here reades me remembring and confessing of my selfe; let him not laugh at me, who am now [Page 92] cured by that same Physician, who ministred unto him such preservatives, that he might not be sicke at all, or but a little dis­tempered rather: but let him take occasion thereupon to love thee so much, yea, so much the more; since by that Physician he hath observed mee to have beene recovered out of such deepe consumptions of sinful­nesse, by the same hand he per­ceives himselfe not to have beene incumbred by the like.

CHAP. 8. What hee loved in that his theft.

1. VVHat fruite had I (wretched man) here­tofore in these things, of the re­membrance whereof I am now Rom. 6, 21. ashamed? In that piece of thee­verie especially, wherein I loved nothing but the very Theft it selfe: whereas that was nothing [Page 93] of it selfe, but I much the more miserable by it? Yet by my selfe alone I would not have com­mitted it: so well I now remem­ber what my disposition then was, that alone I would never have done it. Belike therefore it was the company that I loved, who were with me at it. And e­ven therfore I loved nothing but the theft it selfe; yea verily no­thing else, because that circum­stance of the company, was indeed a very nothing.

2. What is this, verily? who is it that teacheth me, but even he that inlightneth my heart, and discovers the darknesse of it? What is that which came into my head to enquire into, and to discusse and consider better of? For had I then loved those Peares which I stole, I might have done it by my selfe, had it beene e­nough barely to commit the The every, by which I might at­taine my pleasure; nor needed I [Page 94] have provoked that itch of mine owne desires, by the rubbing of those guilty consciences. But because the pleasure I tooke consisted not in those Peares, it must needes therefore bee in the very pranke, it selfe, which the company of us offen­ders joyntly committed toge­ther.

CHAP. 9. Bad company is infectious.

1. VVHat kinde of dis­position was that then? For it was too bad plain­ly: and woe to me that I had it. But yet what was it? Oh, wh [...] can Psal. 19. 12 understand his errours? We laught heartily, till wee tickled againe, that wee could beguile the owners, who little thought what wee were a doing, and would never have indured it. Yet (againe) why tooke I de­light [Page 95] even in this, that I did it not alone? Is it for that no man doth so readily laugh alone? or­dinarily indeed no body does; but yet a fit of laughter some­times comes upon men by them­selves and singly, when no body else is with them, if any thing worthy to be laught at, comes eyther in their eye or fancies. Yet I for my part would not have done this alone; I should never have done it alone verily.

2. See here, my God, the lively emembrance of my soule set beforethee. Alone, I would never have committed that Theft, wherein what I stole did not so much content me, as be­cause I stole it; which would ne­ver have pleased me so well to have done alone, nor would I ever have done it. O friendship too unfriendly! thou inveigler of the soule, thou reasonlesse greedinesse to doe mischiefe, all out of a mirth and wantonnesse, [Page 96] thou thirst to doe wrong to o­thers, though upon no pleasure of gaine, or revenge unto our selves: but even because when one cryes, Let's goe, let's doe this or that, 'tis ashame not to be shamelesse.

CHAP. 10. Whatsoever is good, is in God.

1. VVHo can picke out that crooked and intricate knottinesse? 'Tis filthy, I will never give my mind to it, I will not so much as looke towards it. But thee I desire, O Righteous­nesse and Innocency, most beau­tifull and comely to all chaste eyes; yea, with an insatiable satiety I desire to behold thee. With thee is Rest assured, and a life never to bee disturbed. Hee that enters into thee, enters into his masters joy: and hee shall Mat. 25. 21. have no cause of feare, and shall [Page 97] be well in him, who is the best. [...] a way from thee, and I went astray O my God, yea, too much astray from thee my stay, in these dayes of my youth, and I became to my selfe (as it were) that He alludes to the Pro­digall childe, Luk. 15. 13. far Country of misery.

CHAP. 1. He is caught with love, which he hunted after.

TO Carthage I came, where a whole Fry­ing-pan full of abo­minable Loves crak­led round about me, and on eve­ry side. I was not in love as yet, yet I loved to be in love, & with a more secret kind of want, I ha­ted [Page 99] my selfe having little want. I sought about for something to love; loving still to be beloved: safety I hated, and that way too that had no snares in it: and all because I had a famine within me, even of that inward food, (thy selfe, my God) though that famine made mee not hungry: For I continued without all ap­petite towards incorruptible nourishments, not because I was already full, but the more em­pty, the more queasie stomackt. For this cause my soule was not very well, but miserably brea­king out into botches, had an extreme itch to be scratcht by the touch of these sensible things, who yet if they had not a life, could not deserve to be beloved. It was very pleasurable to me, both to love, and to be beloved; but much more, when I obtai­ned to enjoy the person whom I loved.

2. I defiled therefore the [Page 100] Spring of friendship with the filth of uncleannesse, and I be ful­lied the purity of it with the hell of lustfulnesse: But thus filthy and dishonest as I was, with a superlative kind of vanity I took a pride to passe for a spruce and a gentile companion. I forced my selfe also into love, with which I affected to be insuared. My God, my Mercy, with how much sowrenesse didst thou out of thy goodnesse to me, besawce that sweetenesse? For obtayning once to be beloved againe, and secretly arriving to the bond of enjoying; I was with much joy bound with sorrow-bringing embracements, even that I might be scourged with the Iron bur­ning rods of Iealousie, and sus­pitions, and feares, and angers, and brawles. Stage-playes also at that time drew me away; sights full of the images of mine owne miseries, and the fewell to mine owne fire.

CHAP. 2. Of Stage-playes.

VVHat's the reason now, that a spectator desires to be made sad, when he beholds dolefull and tragicall passages, which himselfe could not endure to suffer? yet for all that he de­sires to feele a kind of passionate­nesse, yea, and his passion be­comes his pleasure too. What's all this but a miserable madnesse? for every man is more affected with these actions, the lesse free he is from such affections: How­soever, when a man suffers ought in his owne person, it uses to be stiled misery: but when he hath a fellow feeling of anothers, then 'tis mercy. But what compassion is to bee showne at those feined and scenicall passions? For the Auditors here are not provoked to helpe the sufferer, but invited [Page 102] onely to be sorry for him: and they so much the more love the actor of these fictions, by how much the more he can move pas­sion in them: and if the calami­ties of the persons represented (either fallen out long since or meerely fained) be so lamely set out, that no passion be mou'd in the spectator, he goes away sur­fetted and reporting scurvily of it: But if he be mov'd to passion, He sits it out very attentively, and even weepes for joy againe. Are teares therefore loved, and pas­sions? Verily each man desires joy fulnesse. Or, whereas no man is willing to be miserable, is he notwithstanding pleased to bee mercifull? which because it can­not be without passion, for this reason alone come passions to be loved. All this springs from that Veine of friendship.

2. But whither goes that Veine? which way flowes it? wherefore runnes it into that tor­rent [Page 103] He alludes to the Sea of Sodome, which is said to bub­ble out a pitchy slime, into which other rivers running, are there lost in it. And like the lake it self rename un­moveable: wherefore 'tis called the dead Sea. of boyling pitch, those vast [...] flowings of the lands of lust­fulnesse, into the nature of which it is of 'its owne inclination changed, being quite altered from 'its heavenly cleerenesse, and corrupted? Shall compassi­on therefore be banished? by no meanes. Let us frame our selves rather to love passion sometimes. But take heed of uncleannesse, O my soule, under the eye of God my protector, (that God of our fathers, who is to be praysed, and to be exalted above all, for ever and ever) beware of unclean­nesse. Nor am I now past all compassion; but when in those dayes I in the Theaters sympathi­zed together with the lovers, when they wickedly enjoyed one another, although their Parts were meerely feined in the action of the comedy: and when they lost one another, I was sad with them, as if really pittying them: being in both successes equally [Page 104] delighted notwithstanding. But I much more pitty him now that still rejoyceth in his owne wic­kednesse, than I doe him that is as it were hardly pinched with the forgoing of some pemitious plea­sure, and the losse of some mise­rable felicitie.

3. This certainly is the truer mercy, but the heart takes not so much delight in it. For though he that condoles with the mise­rable be commended for his of­fice of charity; yet had he, that is most brotherly compassionate, much rather there were no oc­casion given him to condole at. For if good-will bee ill-wild, (which can never be) then may he as well who is truely and sin­cerely compassionate, wish there might still be some men misera­ble, that he might still be compas­sionate. Some kinde of sorrow may therefore be allowed, but no kind loved. And thus doest thou, O Lord God, who lovest [Page 105] our soules much more purely than our selves can doe, and art more incorruptibly mercifull, because thou canst be wounded with no sorrowfulnesse. And who is fit for these things? But wretched I, loved at that time to bee made sorry, and sought out matter to be sorry at, when as in another mans misery, though feined and meerely personated, that Action of the Player best pleased me, yea, and drew mee the more vehemently, which ex­tracted teares out of mine eyes. What mervayle was it now, when being an unhappy sheepe, straying from thy flocke, and not contented with thy keeping, I became infected with that fil­thy scab? And hence came my loving of those sorrowes; not such (though) as should gall me too deepe: (for I was not so farre gone, as to love to suffer, what I loved to looke on:) but such yet as upon hearing their [Page 106] fictions should lightly scratch me; upon which (as after ve­nomed nayles) followed an in­slained swelling, an Impostuma­tion, and a putrified matter. Such a life I then led; but was that a life, O my God?

CHAP. 3. His conversation with young Lawyers.

1. ANd thy faithfull mercie hoverd over me afar off: Vpon what grosse iniquities con­sumed I my selfe, pursuing a sa­crilegious curiosity, that having once forsaken thee, it might bring me as low as the very bottome of infidelity, to that beguiling ser­vice of Divels, unto whom I sacri­ficed mine own vileactions; for all which thou didst chastise me? I was so bold one day (as thy so­lemnities were a celebrating) even within the wals of thy Church, [Page 107] to desire and to execute a busines, enough [...] purchase me the very fruits of death: for which thou [...] me with very grievous punishments, though nothing in respect of my fault, O thou my infinite mercy I my God, my re­fuge against those terrible dan­gers, in which I wandered with a stiffe [...], to withdraw my selfe the further off from thee, loving mine owne wayes, and not thine: affecting a freedome though that of a Run-away.

2. Those Studies of mine also which were accounted commen­dable, were intended towards the Law, with an ambition to prove excellent at them; so much the [...], as I proved the craftier. Such is mens blindnesse, that they even brag of their owle-eydnes. I [...] this time to be a prime fell [...]o [...] in the Rhetorrke schooles, [...]ch joyed in it very pertly, and I sweld againe with arrogancy though more temperate I was [Page 108] (Lord thou knowest.) Yea, and farre enough off from those hu­mors of the OVERTVRNERS EVER­ [...]ORES, OVER­TVRNERS or VNDO­ERS. These for their boldnesse were like our Ro [...]ers, and for their itering, like the worser sort of those that would be cald The wits. (for this cruell and diabolicall name, was given out to bee the very badge of gallantry) whom notwithstanding I kept compa­ny withall, even with an impu­dent bashfulnesse, because I had not so rightly gotten the garbe of it as they. With these I con­versed, and was oft times de­lighted with their acquaintance, whose doings I ever did abhor, that is, their humors of OVER­TVRNING, in which their cu­stome was malapertly enough, to come over the demure and bash­fuller behaviour of those they never saw before, whom they throughly vexed with abusing and jeering at, upon no occasion, and all to maintaine their owne humour of bitter jesting, nothing in the world can be liker the ve­ry actions of the Divell himselfe, than this behaviour of theirs: [Page 109] what name then may they more truely be cal'd by, than OVER­TVRNERS? being themselves overturned and altogether per­verted first, and that by those se­ducing and deceiving spirits, se­cretly deriding them, even for this, that themselves take so much delight to jeere at, and to put tricks upon others.

CHAP. 4. How Tullies Hortensuis provokt him to study Philosophie.

1. AMongst these mad com­panions in that tender age of mine, learnd I the Bookes of Eloquence, wherein my am­bition was to be eminent, all out of a damnable and vaine-glori­ous end, puse up with a delight of humane glory. By the ordi­nary course of study I fell upon a certaine booke of one Cicer [...], whose tongue almost every man [Page 110] admires, though not his heart. This booke of his contaynes an exhortation to Philosophie, and 'tis called Hort ensius. This very Book quite altered my affection, turned my prayers to thy selfe, O Lord, and made me have cleane other purposes and desires. All my vayne hopes I thenceforth slighted; and with an incredible heat of spirit I thirsted after the immortality of wisdome, and began now to rowse up my selfe, that I might turne again to thee▪ ward. For I made not use of that booke to file my tongue with, (which I seemed to buy with that [...]bition my another allowed me, in that mine tenth yeere of my age, my father being dead two yeeres before) I made not use therefore of that book (I say) to sharpen my tongue withall, nor had it perswaded me to af­fect the find language in it, but the matter of in.

2. How did I burne then, my [Page 111] God, how was I inflamed to fly from earthly delights towards thee, and yet I knew not what thou meanedst to doe with me? For with thee is wisdome. That love of wisedome is in Greeke called Philosophie, with which that booke inflam'd mee. Some there bee that seduce others through Philosophie, under a great, a faire promising, and an honest name, colouring over and palliating their owne errors: and almost all those who in the same and former ages had beene of that stamp, are in that booke censured and set forth: there al­so is that most wholesome advice of thy Spirit, given by thy good and devout servant, made plaine; Beware left any man spoyle you through Philosophie and vaine Col. 2. 8. deceipt after the tradition of men, after the rudiments of the world, and not after Christ. For in him dwelleth all the fulnesse of the Godhead bodily.

[Page 112] 3. For my part (thou light of my heart knowest) that the A­postolicall Scriptures were scarce knowne to me at that time: but this was it that so delighted mee in that He meanes Ciceroes Hortensi­us. exhortation, that it did not ingage mee to this or that sect, but left me free to love, and seeke, and obtaine, and hold, and embrace wisdome it selfe what ever it were. Perchance 'twas that booke I was stirred up, and inkindled and inflamed by: This thing only in such a heat of zeale tooke me off, that the name of Christ was not in it. For this Name, according to thy mercy, O Lord, this Name of my Sa­viour thy Sonne, had my tender heart even together with my mo­thers milke devoutly drunken in, and charily treasured up; so that what booke soever was without that Name, though never so lear­ned, politely and truely penned, did not altogether take my ap­probation.

CHAP. 5. Hee sets lightly by the Holy Scriptures because of the sim­plicity of the stile.

1. I Resolved thereupon to bend my studies towards the ho­ly Scriptures, that I might see what they were: But behold, I espie something in them not re­vealed to the proud, not disco­vered unto children, humble in stile, sublime in operation, and wholly veyled over in mysteries; and I was not so fitted at that time, as to pierce into the sense, or stoope my high neck to track the stile of it. For when I atten­tively read these Scriptures, I thought not then so highly of them, as I now speake; but they seemed to me farre unworthy to be compared to the statelinesse of the Ciceronian eloquence: For my swelling pride soar'd a­bove [Page 114] the temper of their stile, nor was my sharpe wit able to pierce into their sense. And yet such are thy Scriptures as grew up together with thy little Ones. But I much disdained to be held a little One; and big-swoln with pride, I tooke my selfe to be some great man.

CHAP. 6. How hee was insnared by the Manichees.

1. ANd even therefore I fell upon a sect of men proudly doting, too carnall and prating, in whose mouths were the very snares of the divell, and a very Birdlime compounded by the mixture of the syllables These were frequent with the Mani­chees. of thy Name, and of our Lord Ie­sus Christ, and of the Holy Ghost the Comforter. All these names came not out of their mouth, but so farre forth as the sound [Page 115] only and the noyse of the tongue, for their heart was voyd of true meaning. Yet they cryed out Truth, and Truth, and divers sounded the word to mee, yet was the Truth it selfe no where to be found amongst them: But they spake falsehood, not of thee onely (who truely art the Truth it selfe:) but also of the elements of this world, thy creatures. Con­cerning which it had beene my duty, (O my supreme good Fa­ther, thou beauty of all things that are beautifull) to have out­stripped all the Philosophers though they spake most truely. O Truth, Truth, how inward­ly did the very marrow of my soule pant after thee, when as they often and divers wayes, though but barely, pronounced thy name to me, with their voice onely, and in many bookes and hugie volumes? And these were the dishes wherein to hunger­starven me, they, instead of thee, [Page 116] served in He alludes to the Ma­nichees Philosophi­call Theolo­gie. the Sun and Moone: Beautifull works indeed of thine, but thy creatures notwithstan­ding, not thy selfe, no nor thy first creatures neither. For thy spirituall works are before these corporeall workes, celestiall though they be and shining.

2. But I hungered and thirsted not after those first workes of thine but after thee, even thee, the Truth, with whom there is no variablenesse, neither shadow Iam. 1. 17. of turning: yet they still set be­fore me in those dishes glorious phantasies, than which much bet­ter it were to love this Sunne, (which is true to our sights at least) than those phantasies which by our eyes serve to deceive our minde. Yet because I thought Them to be Thee, I fell to and fed; not greedily though, for thou wert not savoury in my mouth, nor like thy selfe; for thou wast not those empty ficti­ons, nor was I soundly nourisht [Page 117] by them, but drawne dry rather. That food we dreame of, shewes very like the food which we eat awake; yet are not those asleepe nourisht by it, for they are asleep. But neither were those phantasies any way like to thee, as thou hast since spoken to me; for that those were corporeall phantasies only, false bodies, than which these true bodies both celestiall and terrestriall which with our flesh­ly sight we behold, are far more certaine: Here the Popish Trans­lator patches two senten­ses into one, losing halfe the force of the Fathers Argument. These things the ve­ry beasts and birds discerne as well as wee, and they are much more certayne than any we can fancy of our selves. And againe, we doe with more certaintie con­ceive the images of these, than by them entertaine the least suspiti­on of any vaster or infinite bo­dies which have at all no being: such empty huskes as these, was I then fed with, yet not a whit nourished.

3. But thou my Love, after [Page 118] whom I pine, that I may gather the more strength, art not these bodies which we see, though frō heaven appearing: nor art thou any of those which wee see not there; for all those hast thou cre­ated, nor yet Nee in summis ru­is conditi­onibus ab­es. Here be hath mis­sed the whole sense, tur­ning it: And when thou wilt, thou canst make nobler than they: meaning than the Angels, as his margine intimates. Iudge Rea­der. Saint Augustine alludes to Act. 17. 27. as may he seene by his following it. in these chiefest pieces of thy workmanship art thou farre absent. How farre then art thou from those fond fantasies of mine, the phantasies of those bodies which have at all no be­ing? than which the Images of those bodies, which have reall existence, are farre more certaine, and yet the bodies themselves more certaine than their owne Images; yet these bodies thou art not. No, nor yet art thou the Soule, which is the life of those bodies; though better and more certaine be the life of those bo­dies, than the bodies themselves are. But thou art the life of soules, the life of lives, yea the very li­ving life itselfe; nor art thou al­tered, O life of my soule. Where [Page 119] therefore, how neere wert thou then unto me, and how far from me? Very far verily had I strag­led, from thee, being even barr'd from the huskes of those swine, whom with huskes I Another cobble of the old Transla­tor, which he turnes, Though with husks I was en­tertaining my brutish appetite. was set to feed. How much better then are those fables of the Poets and Grammarians, than these foole­traps? For their Verses, and Po­ems, and Medea flying, are more profitable surely, than these The Ma­nichees fooleries hee alludes un­to. mens Five elements, odly de­vised to answer the Five Dens of darknesse, which have at all no being, and which slay the be­leever. For verses and Poems I verily can referre to the Another mistake: Advera ele­menta transfero: I can ap­ply to a true sense, saith he. So can not I his translation. true Elements. But Medea flying, al­though I charted sometimes, yet I maintaind not the truth of, and though I heard it sung, I belee­ved it not: But these phantasies I throughly beleeved.

4. Alas, alas; by what de­grees was I brought into the ve­ry bottome of hell? when as [Page 120] toyling and tunnoyling my selfe through want of Truth, I sought after thee my GOD, (to thee I now confesse it, who hadst mer­cy on me, when I had not yet confessed) not according to the understanding of the minde, wherein thou madest mee excell the beasts; but according to the sense of the flesh. But thou at the same time wert more inward to me, than my most inward part; and superiour then, unto my su­premest. I chanced upon that bold woman, who is simple and Compare Prev. 7. 10. with Prov. 9. 13, 17. ver. and you have the meaning. knoweth nothing, that subtilty in Salomon. sitting at the doore of her house, and saying, Eate yee bread of secrecies willingly, and drinke yee stolne waters which are sweete: This harlot seduced me, because she found my soule without doores, dwelling in the eye of my flesh, and chewing the cud by my selfe, upon such bayts as through her inticement I had devoured.

CHAP. 7. The absurd doctrine of the Ma­nichees.

1. FOr I knew not that there was any other truth, and was, as it were, through mine owne sharpe wit perswaded to give my consent to those foolish deceivers when they put these questions to me, Whence cometh evill? and whether God were made up in a bodily shape, and had haires and nayles? and whe­ther those were to be esteemed righteous men, who had many wives at once, and did kill men, and offered sacrifices of living creatures? At which things ig­norant I was much troubled, and while I went quite from the truth I seemed to my selfe to be ma­king towards it; because I yet knew not how that evill was nothing else but a privation of [Page 122] good, having of it selfe at all no being. Which, how should I come to see, whose sight pierced no further than to a Body, with mine eyes; and with my soule no deeper than to a meere phan­tasie.

2. Nor did I yet know God to be a Spirit who hath not any parts extended in length and breadth, or Cui effe, moles effet. whose Being was to bee a bulke; for that every bulke is lesser in his part, than in his whole: and if it be infinite, it must needs be lesse in some part that is limited in a certaine space than that which is not limited: and cannot so bee wholly every where, as a spirit, as God is. And which part in us that should be by which we were like to God, and how rightly in the Scrip­tures we may be said to be made after the Image of God, I was altogether ignorant. Nor was yet acquainted with that true and inward righteousnesse, which [Page 123] judgeth not according to cu­stome, but out of the most right­full Law of God Almighty, by which the fashions of severall places and times were so despo­sed, as was fittest both for those times and places; it selfe in the meane time being The same al­waies and every where; not a­nother thing in another place, nor otherwise upon another occasion. According to which righteous­nesse both Abraham, and Isaac, and Iacob, and Moses were Heb. 11. righteous, yea and all those other commended by the mouth of GOD: but they were judged unrighteous by unskilfull peo­ple judging out of humane judg­ment, and measuring all man­kinde in generall by the model of their owne customes: just as i [...] in an Armory, a man being ig­norant what peice were appoin­ted for what part, should clap a boote upon his head, & draw an headpeice upon his leg, and then [Page 124] murmur because they would not fit him: or as if upon some [...] day when the course of Iustice [...] publikely forbidden in the after­noone, a shopkeeper should sto­macke at it that he may not have leave Here the old transla­tor bewrayes ignorance e­nough. Thus he renders it: Or as when pub­like justice should command the shops to be shut after noon upon some certaine day, one should chafe for not being suffered to sell his wares, although the next day he might lawfully doe it. Let me helpe him: In Romanes had 3. sorts of dayes, 1. Festos or Ferias whole holydayes. 2. Professos, whole working dayes. [...] Intercis [...] halfe holydayes. In this lost sort the courts: Iustice and shops having beene open the forenoone, usu some sudden accident, (suppose the death or funerall some great personage, &c.) the Bedl [...] proclaim'd a [...] on from working and pleading. Vpon the same [...] have we in our Vniversities a sudden Non Ter [...]inus and ceasing of all disputations, namely upon the deathe some Master of Arts or Doctor. to sell his wares, which it was lawfull for him to doe it the forenoone: or when in some house he observeth some servant to passe that kinde of busines [...] through his hands, which the Butcher is not suffered to medle withall; or some thing done be­hinde the stable, which is for­bidden in the dyning-roome: or [Page 125] as if he should bee angry, that where there is one dwelling house, and one family, the same equality of distribution is not observed every where, and to all alike in it.

3. Of the same humor bee those who are fretted to heare something to have beene lawfull for righteous men in the former age, which is not so for just men now adayes: And because GOD commanded them one thingthen, and these an other thing now for certaine temporall respects; and yet those of both ages to be ser­vants to the same righteousnesse: whereas they may observe that in one man, and in one day, and in one house, one thing to bee fit enough for one member, and one thing to bee lawfull now, which an hower hence is not so; and some thing to be permitted or commanded in one corner, which is forbidden and punished in a­nother. Is Iustice thereupon va­rious [Page 126] or mutable? No; but the times rather in which Iustice go­vernes are not like one another; for they are times. But men now, whose life is but short upon the earth, for that in their owne ap­prehensions they are not able to compare together the causes of those former ages, and of other nations, which they have had no experience of: with these which they have had experience of: and that in one & the same body, day or family, they may easily ob­serve what is fitting for such a member & at what seasons, what parts and what persons; they take exceptions to those, but to these they servilely submit their approbations

4. These things I then knew not, nor did I marke them, and they on every side beate about mine eyes, yet did not I see them. I endited verses, in which I had not liberty to place every foot where I pleased, but in one [Page 127] meeter in one place, and in an­other meeter in another place: and not the selfe same foot in all places of the selfe same verse neither: yea and the very Art of Poetry it selfe, by which I endi­ted, had not Rules different in one place from those in another, but all answerable. Not did I then behold how that Rule of Righteousnesse, to which those good and holy men obeyed, did farre more excellently and sub­limely containe all those things which God commanded, answe­rably one unto another; which though not varyed from it selfe in any part, yet in different A­ges, did not distribute or com­mand all the same things at one time, but what was fit and pro­per for each time. Thus blinde I reprehended those holy Fa­thers, not onely for making use of the present things with that liberty which God both com­manded and inspired them, but [Page 128] even also for foretelling things to come, which God had revea­led to them.

CHAP. 8. Heynous offences what be, and how punished.

1. CAN it at any time or place be an unjust thing, for a man to love God with all his heart, with all his soule, and Deut. 6. Mat. 22. with all his minde; and his neighbour as himselfe? There­for are those crimes which be a­gainst nature, to be every where and at all times both detested and punished, such as those of the men of Sodome were: which should all nations commit, they should stand all guilty of the same crime, by the Law of God, which hath not so made men that they should any way abuse one another. For even that soci­ety which should bee betwixt God and us, is then violated, [Page 129] when the same Nature of which he is Author, is polluted by the preposterousnesse of lust. Those Actions also which are offences against the Customes and pub­like usage of people, are to bee avoided, with respect had to the diversity of those severall Cu­stomes and usages; so that a thing publikely agreed upon, and confirmed, eyther by the custome or Law of a Citie or Nation amongst themselves, may not be violated at the lawlesse pleasure of any, whether native or forreiner.

2. But when God commands any thing to be done, eyther a­gainst the Customes or Consti­tutions of any people whatsoe­ver, though the like were never done heretofore, yet is it to bee done now; and if ever it hath beene intermitted before, it is to be restored now; and if it were never made a Law before, it is to be made one now. For lawfull [Page 130] if it be for a King, in that Citie which he reignes over, to com­mand that, which never any Prince had before him, nor hee himselfe ever heretofore, and that it cannot be held to be against the common good of the Citie that he is obeyed; nay, it were against it if he were not obeyed: (For, a generall agreement of all humane Societies it is, That Princes should be obeyed:) How much more dutifull then ought we to be to God, who is Lord Paramount over al his creatures, and that without any sticking at all, at whatsoever hee pleases to command us? For as amongst those Powers appointed in hu­mane Society, the greater Au­thority is set over the lesser, to command obedience; so is God set over all. In heinous offences also, where there arises a licenti­ous will to hurt another, be it ei­ther by offering reproach or in­jurie; and both of these eyther [Page 131] upon occasion of revenge, as in one enemy against another, or for the compassing of some piece of profit, not in his owne power, as in the high-way theefe to the travailer, or for the esche wing of some evill, as in him that is afraid of another, or in case of envying, as the miserable wretch against him in happier condition, or as hee that is well thriven in any thing, feares him that is to grow up to him, or is grieved at him already in equall case with him; or for the pleasure alone at ano­ther mans mischance, as those that are spectators of the Sword-players, or that deride or put tricks upon others. These bee these chiefe heads of iniquity, which sprout forth from that lawlesse desire See 1 Ioh. 2. 1. of Bearing rule, of Seeing much, or of Feeling pleasure, or of any one, or two of these, or of all three together. Thus we live offensively against Three and Seven that Psalte­ry [Page 132] Psal. 33. 2. of ten strings, thy ten Com­mandements, O God, most high and mostsweet.

3. But what foule offences can there be against thee, seeing thou canst not by them be cor­rupted? or what high-handed transgressions can crosse thee who canst not be harmed? But this is it that thou revengest that namely which men commit against one another, seeing also when they sin against thee, they doe wickedly even against their owne soules, and iniquity gives it selfe the lye, either by corrup­ting or perverting it's owne na­ture which thou hast created and ordained; or else by an immode­rate use of those creatures ap­pointed for them; or in burning in lust towards the use of what is not appoynted, which is a­gainst nature; or when as they are guilty to themselves for raving with heart and tongue against thee, kicking thereby against the Acts 9. 5. [Page 133] pricke: or when as breaking o­pen the pale of all human society, audacious people rejoyce them­selves in their privie bargaines of bawderies or theeveries, right as any thing eyther delighteth or offendeth them.

4. And these pranks are plaid, when-ever thou art forsaken, O Fountaine of Life, which art the onely and the true Creator and Governor of this Vniverse, when as out of a singularity of pride, any one false thing is in part lo­ved. By an humble devoutnesse must we therefore returne unto thee; and then thou purgest a­way our lewd customes, and pro­vest favourable to their sinnes that confesse unto thee, and thou hearest the groanes of those that are enthralled by them, and thou loosest those fetters which wee have made for our owne selves; if so be we doe not lift up against thee the hornes of a feined liber­ty, through a gripplenesse of ha­ving [Page 134] more, though with a danger of losing all; even by more strongly settling our love upon our owne private commodity, than upon thee the common good of All.

CHAP. 9. The difference that is betwixt sins, and betwixt the judge­ment of God and men.

1. BVt amongst those infa­mous and high-handed offences, are the sinnes of these men to be reckoned, who are good proficients otherwise in vertue; which by those that judge rightly, and after the Rule of perfection, are discommen­ded, and yet the persons com­mended withall, upon hope of better fruit, as is the greeneblade of the growing Corne. And there are some againe, that looke like infamous or impudent [Page 135] crimes, which yet are no sinnes; even for that they neither offend thee, O Lord God, nor yet any sociable conversation; when (namely) provision is made of somethings fitting for the times, and we cannot judge whether it be out of a lust of having; or when some actions bee by ordi­nary authority punished, with a desire of correcting, and it is un­certaine whether it were out of a desire of hurting. Many a fact therefore which seemes worthi­ly disallowed by men, is yet well approved of by thy testimony; and many a one by men praised, are (thou being witnesse) con­demned: and all this, because the outside of the fact, and the minde of the doer, and the un­knowne secret of the present hint of opportunity, are all different from one another.

2. But when thou on the sudden commandest any unusuall and unthought-of thing, yea, not­withstanding [Page 136] thou hast some­time heretofore forbidden this (although thou keepest secret for the time the reason of thy command, and notwithstanding it bee against the private ordi­nance of some Society of men who doubts but it is to be obey­ed, seeing that Society of men is a just Society, which serves thee? But happy are they who know it was thou that gave the com­mand. For all things are done by them that serve thee, either for the providing themselves of what is needfull for the present, or for the foreshewing of some­thing to come hereafter.

CHAP. 10. Hee speakes againe of the Fig­tree: and derides the Mani­chees foolish conceits about it.

1. I My selfe being at that time ignorant of these [Page 137] things, derided heartily those holy servants and Prophets of thine. And what gain'd I by scoffing at them, but that my selfe should in the meane time be scorned at by thee, being sen­sibly and by little and little drawne on to those toyes, as to beleeve that a Fig-tree wept when it were plucked, and the Mother of it to shed milkie teares? Which Fig notwith­standing (pluckt by some other mans boldnesse) had some Ma­nichean He alludes in this Chapter to the folly of the Ma­nichees. Saint eaten, hee should digest in his guts, and breath out of that Fig, very Angels; yea, in his prayer, groane and sigh out certaine portions (forsooth) of the Deity; which portions of the most high and true GOD should remaine bound in that Fig, unlesse they had beene set at liberty by the teeth or belly of some elect holy one. And I be­leeved (wretch that I was) that more mercy was to bee shewne [Page 138] to the fruits of the earth, that unto men for, whose use they were created. For if any man (though a hungred) should have eaten a bit, who were no Mani­chee, that morsell would seeme as it were to be condemned to a capitall punishment, should it have been given him.

CHAP. 11. His mothers Dreame.

1. ANd thou stretchedst thine hand from on high and drewest my soule out of that darksome deepenesse, when as my mother thy faithfull one wept to thee for me, more bitter­ly than mothers use to doe for the bodily deaths of their chil­dren. For she evidently fore saw my death, by that faith and spirit which thou hadst given her, and thou heardest her, O Lord, thou heardst her & despisedst not her [Page 139] teares, when flowing downe they watered the very earth He alludes bere to that devout manner of the Eastern Ancients, who used to lye flat on their faces in prayer. under her eyes in every place where she prayed, yea thou heardst her. For whence else was that dreame of hers, by which thou comfor­tedst her; in which shee verily thought mee to live with her, Here the old Transla­tor is mista­ken, falsly construing the word Crederet. and to eate at the same table in house with her, which shee al­ready begunne to bee unwilling withall, refusing and detesting the blasphemies of my errour. For she saw Her visi­on. (in her sleepe) her selfe standing in a certain wood­den In qua­dam Tegu­la Lignea, and not in regula Li­nea, or Lignea, as the printed Coppies read it. This Te­gula signifies an upper roome next the tiles: But in those hot Affricane Countries they used to be much upon the Ro [...]fes of their houses; which therefore were commanded to be battlemented lest any should fall from thence, Deut. 22. 8. so [...]e such upper roome, gallery or pergula it is likest to have beene. battlement, and a very beautifull young man comming towards her, with a cheerefull countenance and smiling upon her, herselfe being grieved and [Page 140] farre gone with sorrowfulnesse. Which yong man when he had demanded of her the causes of her sadnesse and dayly weepings, (that he might teach rather as Angels use to doe, than learne) and shee had answered that it was my perdition that shee be­wayled; he bad her rest conten­ted, and wisht her to observe di­ligently and behold, That where she herselfe was, there was I also. Who when she lookt aside, shee saw mestanding by her in the same battlement. How should this chance now, but that thine eares were bent towards the requests of her heart.

2. O thou Good omnipotent, who hast such speciall care of every one of us, as if thou hadst care but of one alone; and so re­gardest all, as if but single per­sons. How came this about also, that when she had told me this Vision, and I would have inter­preted it, That shee should not [Page 141] despaire of being one day of my opinion: she presently without any sticking at, replyes; No (saith shee) it was not told mee that thou art where he is, but where thou art, there hee is? I confesse to thee, O Lord, that to the best of my remembrance (which I have oft spoken of) I was then the more moved at that answer of my vigilant mother, that she was not put out of con­ceipt by the likelyhood of my forced interpretation, and that upon the very instant she appre­hended as much of it as was tru­ly to be discerned (which I my selfe verily had not perceived, before she spake.) I was more moved (I say) at that, than with her dreame it selfe; by which the joy of that holy woman to be fulfilled so long after, was, for the consolation of her present anguish, so long before foresig­nified.

3. For nine full yeeres passed [Page 134] after that, in all which I tumbled up downe in the mudde of that deepe pit, and the darknesse of that false beleefe, and when I endeavoured to rise, the violent­lyer was I slung downe againe. All which time that chast, godly and sober widdow (such thou lovest) more cheered up with hope, though no whit slackned in weeping and mourning, failed not all howres of her set prayers to bewayle my case unto thee. And her prayers found entrance then into thy sight, yet notwith­standing thou sufferedst mee to be tumbled yet againe, and to be all over involved in that mist of Manichisme.

CHAP. 12. The answer his mother received from a Bishop, concerning his conversion.

1. ANd thou gavest her a­nother answere in the [Page 135] meane time, which I now re­member: and yet I passe over many a one, for that I make hast to those things which more presse me to confesse unto thee, and many have I also forgotten. Thou affordedst her another an­swer, therefore by a certaine Priest of thine, a Bishop brought up in thy Church, & well studi­ed in thy Bookes. Whom when this woman had intreated that he would vouchsafe to have some conference with me, as well to un-teach me what was false, as to instruct me in what was sound; (for this office shee ever and a­none did for mee, as she found men fit for such an undertaking) but hee refused it, and in truth discreetly too, as I better after­wards perceived. For his answer was, that I was yet unripe for instruction, for that I was yet puft up with the new taken-in heresie, and that I had already troubled divers unskilfull per­sons [Page 144] with spurring of questions to them, as she had already told him: but let him alone a while (saith he) onely pray to God for him, he will of himselfe by rea­ding find his owne mistake, and how great his impiety is.

2. The Bishop then up and told her how himselfe when hee was a little one had been by his seduced mother commited to the Manichees, and how he had not onely read over almost all, but also coppied out their books, and that it appeared to him (without the helpe of any man to dispute against, or convince it) how much that sect was to be avoy­ded; and how of himselfe there­fore he had forsaken it. Which words when he had spoken, and she would not yet be satisfied: but pressed more upon him what with intreating, and what with weeping, that he would be plea­sed to see me, and discourse with me; he, a little displeased at her [Page 145] tedious importunity, Goe thy wayes, (saith he) and God blesse thee, for it is not possible that the sonne of these teares should mis­carry. Which answer shee then tooke (as she often remembred in our familiar discourse after­wards) as if an oracle had resounded from heaven.

CHAP. 1. How long, and what wayes hee seduced others.

FOr the space of nine yeeres then (that is from the nineteenth yeere of mine ago to the eight and twentieth) wee were seduced our selves, and o­thers we seduced; deceived and deceiving in divers lusts; and in [Page 147] publike we did it by those Arts which are called liberall, but in private we still peretended the assumed Iust thus doe the Pu­ritanes of our dayes; some cham­pions they have that are stil scrib­ling, and o­thers brag­ging in their conventicles how able they are to confute the Adversary: but in private houses they pretend sanctity and long Prayers, and stillseeme zealous against the pretended imperfections of the Church, times, and governors, temporall and spirituall. name of Religion. Here were we proud, there su­perstitious, every where vayne; still hunting after the empty noyse of popular reputation, even affecting those The atricall hum­mings and It was the old fashion to humme, and give low plaudi­tees with the band, to their Orators and Preachers; as may be seene in Saint Basile and Saint Chrysostome. applauses, and those contentious strifes of wit, and to gaine the grassy garlands, & the vanity of shewing our selves up­on the It was the Roman custome to rebearse upon the stage or in publike their owne composures (which they cald Repo­nere,) before they set forth copies of them, which when they did, they were said Edere. Thus edere spectacu­lum, & edere librum Semper ego auditor tantum: nunquamne reponam? Pers. stage; and the intem­perancy of ambition. But much desiring then to purge our selves [Page 148] from these our naturall corrup­tions by the helpe of those who were called elect and holy, wee carried them certayne chosen He derides at this wic­ked Sacra­ment of the Manichees in which they thought to imitate the recei­ving and be­nefit of the Lords Sup­per. Here had they a chosen meat consecrated by their e­lect; and they hoped by it to bee purged, and as it were u­nited to God. meates, out of which in the workehouse of their owne paun­ches, they should forge certaine Angels and Gods, by whom we were to bee cleansed. These things did I then follow, these things did I then practise with my friends, who were deceived by me and with me.

2. Let such deride me now, who are arrogant, and not yet savingly cast downe nor broken in heart by thee, O my GOD; but I for all this doe here confesse mine owne shame to thee in thy prayse. Suffer me I beseech thee, and give me grace to runne over in my present remembrance the errors of my forepassed time, and to offer up unto thee the sacrifice of rejoycing. For what am I without thee, but a guide to mine owne downefall? or what am I [Page 149] even at the best, but an infant sucking thy milke, and feeding upon thee the food incorrupti­ble? But what kind of thing is any man, seeing at the best he is but a man? Let now the strong and the mighty laugh at us, but let us weake and needy soules ever confesse unto thee.

CHAP. 2. Hee teaches Rhetoricke, and despiseth a wizard who pro­mised him the victory.

1. I Taught in those yeeres the Art of Rhetoricke, and my selfe being overcome with a de­sire of gaine, made sale of a lo­qu [...]city, to overcome others by. Yet I desired rather (Lord thou knowest) to have honest schol­lers (as they are now adayes ac­counted) and those without all deceipt, I taught how to deceive; not that I would have them [Page 150] plead against the life of any Oh that those Law­yers would learne this, who thinke they may undoe any mans life, cause, or reputati­on, so it be for their Cly­ent: say or unsay, any thing for their Cly­ent. in­nocent person, though sometimes to save the life of the nocent. And thou, O God, from afarre perceivedst me falling in that slippery course, & in much smoke sparkling out some small faith, which I then made show of in that Schoole-mastership of mine to those that loved vanity, and becomming the companion to those that sought a lye. In those dayes I kept a Mistresse, whom I knew carnally, not in that law­full way of marriage; but the way found out by wandring lust, utterly voyd of understanding: yet had I but that one, towards whom I truly kept the promise of the Bed▪ in whom I might by mine owne example learne experience, what difference there would be betwixt the knot I read it Nodum, [...]nd not Modum. of the marriage-covenant, mutually consented unto for the desire of children, and the bargaine of a lustfull love, where though chil­dren [Page 151] be against our wils begot­ten, yet being borne, they even compell us to love them.

2. I remember once, that when I had a minde to put forth my selfe for the prize in a Theatri­call Poeme, I was demanded by I know not what wizard, what I would give him, to be assured to winne the garland: but I de­testing and abhorring such filthy compacts returnd him answer; That though the garland were immortall and of gold, yet would I not suffer a flye to lose it's life to gaine me the better of it. For he was to kill certaine li­ving creatures in those his sacri­fices, and by those honours to invite the Divels to favour me in the peoples acclamations. But this ill meanes I refused not, out of any chast reservation towards thee, O God of my heart; for then knew I not how to love thee, who knew not how to thinke on any thing but certaine [Page 152] He alludes to the Ma­nichees er­rours, who thought God and the An­gels to be but glorious bodies. Hos. 12. 1. Corporeall Glories. And did not my soule, panting after such fond fictions, commit fornicati­on against thee, trust in false hopes, and feed upon the wind? But I would not (forsooth) that hee should doe sacrifice to the Divells for me, and yet did I my selfe offer unto them, even by that my superstition. For, to feed upon the wind, what is it else but to feed them; that is, by our owne errours to make our selves the subjects of their pleasure and derision?

CHAP. 3. Giving himselfe to Astrologie, he is reclaimed by an ancient Physician.

1. THose Star-gazers there­fore, whom they stile The old Translator is often mis­taken in this Chapter. Mathematicians, I verily did not forbeare to consult with; and that because they used no sa­crifice, [Page 153] not directed their pray­ers to any Spirit to speed their Divinations: and yet doth Chri­stian and true piety consequent­ly refuse and condemne that Art. For it is a good thing to confesse Psal. 41. 4. unto thee, and to say, Have mer­cie upon me, heale my soule: for I have sinned against thee: and not to abuse thy kindnesse for a liberty of sinning, but to remem­ber our Lords warning, Behold thou art made whole, sinne no Iob. 5. 14. more, lest a worse thing come unto thee. All which wholsome advice they endevour to over­throw, that say, The cause of thy sinne is inevitably determi­ned in heaven; and that Man, flesh and blood, and proud cor­ruption be kept without sinne, is of Ʋenus doing, forsooth; or Saturne or Mars procur'd it; meane while the Creator of Heaven and Starres, beares the blame of it. And who is he but our God, the very sweetnes and [Page 154] well-spring of Righteousnesse, who shalt render to every man Rom. 2. 6. according to his workes: and a broken and contrite heart wilt Psal. 51. 17. thou not despise.

2. There was in those dayes a wise Gentleman, very skilfull in Physicks; and famous for his Art, who being at that time This was part of the Procon­suls Office in the Ro­mane Pro­vinces, to be Iudge at these kinde of Exercises: and in these lesser Cities so serve from Rome, a meane man might bee Proconsul. The old Translator turnes Pro­consul, In place of the Con­sul, igno­rantly. Proconsul, had with his owne hand put the Garland upon my distempered head, but not as a Physician: for this disease thou onely curest, I am. 4. 6. who resistest the proud, and givest grace to the humble. But didst thou faile me by that old Physician, or forba­rest to heale my soule? For in regard I grew more acquainted with him, and that I diligently and firmely depended upon his advice; for hoe delivered it in neate termes, full of quicke sen­tences, both pleasant and grave withall. Who, when hee had gathered by my discourse, that I was given to study the bookes [Page 155] of the Nativity-casters and Fi­gure-flingers, hee courteously and fatherly advised me to cast them all away, and that I should not hereafter in vaine bestow my care or diligence (which was necessary for more useful things) upon that vaine study: affirming withall, that himselfe had in his yonger yeeres studied that Art, with a purpose to get his living by it; hoping, if he could once have understood Hypocrates, he might attaine to understand that kinde of learning also: and that hee had given it over, and wholly betaken himselfe to Phy­sicke, for no other reason, but that he found it most deceitfull; and he being a grave man, would not get his living by cheating of people. But thou (saith he) hast the profession of Rhetoricke to maintaine thy selfe by, whereas thou followest this study volun­tarily, not driven to it by neces­sity: so much the more then [Page 156] oughtest thou to give me credit in this point, who laboured to attaine to perfection in it, out of a purpose meerely to get my li­ving by it.

3. Of whom when I had de­manded, what the reason was then, why so many true things should be foretold by it? Hee answered mee (as well as hee could) That the force of Chance, diffused round about in the na­ture of things, brought this a­bout. For if when a man had by hap-hazard consulted the books of some Poet, who sang of and intended cleane another matter, the Verses did oftentimes fall out wondrously agreeable to the present businesse: it were not then to be wondred at (saith he) if out of the soule of man (by some higher instinct) knowing nothing what is done within it selfe, some answer should be gi­ven, which more by hap than a­ny good cunning, should have [Page 157] agreement to the businesse and actions of the demander. And thus much truely, either from or by him, thou then wroughtest for me, and then decypheredst in my memory, what of my selfe I should seeke out after­wards. But yet at that time nei­ther he, nor my most deare Ne­bridius; (a very good dispositi­oned yong man, and very caute­lous, who utterly derided that whole manner of Divination) could perswade with me to cast away those studies, even because the authority of the very Authors overswayed more with me, and that I had not yet light upon a­ny demonstrative argument (such as I sought for) whereby it might cleerely and without all doubt­fulnesse appeare, that what had beene truely foretold by those Masters of the Science, were spoken by Fortune or by chance, and not out of the sure Art of the Starre-gazers.

CHAP. 4. He relates the sicknesse and bap­tisme of his Friend, whom himselfe had infected with heresie: he grievously laments his death.

1. IN those yeeres when I first of all began to teach Rhe­toricke in the Towne where I was borne, I gained a very deare friend, upon the occasion of the neerenesse of our studies; one he was about mine owne age, now springing up with mee in the flowre of youth. He had growne up of a child with me, and both schoole-fellowes and play-fel­lowes wee had beene. But yet was he not so truly my friend, no nor of later times neither, as true friendship should be indeed; for true it cannot be, unlesse thou so­derest it betwixt such parties as cleave together unto thee, by that [Page 159] love which is shed abroad in Rom. 5. 5. our hearts by the Holy Ghost, which is given unto us. But yet a very sweet friendship it was, being ripened by the heate of the equality of our studies: For, from the true faith, (which he being a Youth was not soundly and throughly grounded in) I had wrapt him, even towards those selfe-same superstitious and per­nicious Fables, for which my Mother bewailed my condition. With me now erred the mind of that man, nor could my soule be without him. But behold thou, ever at the backes of thy Runne­awaies, the God of revenge, and Father of mercies, both at the Psal. 94. 1. same time, who turnest us to thy selfe by most wonderfull means, tookest that man out of this life, when hee had scarce continued one whole yeere in my friend­ship, sweet to mee above all sweetnesse of this life.

2. What one man is able to [Page 160] recount all thy praises which he hath felt in him selfe alone? What was it thou then didst, my God, and how unsearchable is the bot­tomlesse depth of thy Iudge­ments? For when as one day, sofe sicke of his Feaver, hee lay senselesse in a deadly sweat, and all despairing of his recove­rie, he was baptized unwitting to himselfe; my selfe meane while little regarding, and pre­suming that his soule would have retained rather what it had re­ceived of me, and not what was now wrought in the body of him that knew The won­derfull ef­fect of the Sacrament of Baptisme. nothing of it. But it fell out farre otherwise: for he became refreshed, and re­covered his health upon it: For when as soone as ever I could come to speake with him; (and I could, so soone as he was able: for I had never yet gone from him, and we very neerely depen­ded one upon another) I offered to scoffe, as if he also would have [Page 161] scoffed with me for company, at that Baptisme which he, being most absent both in understan­ding and feeling, had lately re­ceived, but had now understood that he had received. But hee lookt with as great indignation upon me, as I had beene his mor­rall enemy; and with an admi­rable and sudden freedome of language, advised mee, that if I purposed to continue his friend, I should forbeare such talke to him.

3. But I all astonied and a­mazed, put off the disclosing of my private commotions, till hee should grow well againe, and had recovered so much strength of health, that hee were fit for me to deale with as I would my selfe. But he was taken away from my phrenzie, that with thee hee might bee preserved for my future comfort; falling in my absence a few dayes after into a relapse of his Feaver, and was [Page 162] parted away from mee. At the griefe of this, my heart was ut­terly over-clouded; and what­soever I cast mine eye upon, lookt like death unto me. Mine owne Country was a very Pri­son to me, and my Fathers house a wonderfull unhappinesse; and whatsoever I had communicated in with him, wanting him tur­ned to my most cruell torture. Mine eyes rov'd about every where for him, but they met not with him; and I hated all places for that they had not him; nor could they now tell me, Behold, he will come shortly, as when he was alive they did when-ever he was absent. I became a great examiner of my selfe, and I of­ten asked over my soule, why she was so sad, and why she af­flicted mee so sorely: but shee knew not what to answer mee. Then said I to my soule, Put thy trust in God; but very justly she did not obey me; because that [Page 163] most deare man whom she had lost, was both truer and better, than that phantasticall God she was bid to trust in. Only teares were sweet to me, Arar [...] conceipt. for they had now succeeded in my friends place, in the dearest of my affe­ctions.

CHAP. 5. Of teares in our prayers for, and bewailing of, the thing belo­ved.

1. ANd now, Lord, are these things well passed over, and time hath asswaged the an­guish of my wound. May I learne this from the [...] who art Truth, and may I apply the eare of my heart unto thy mouth, that thou maist tell me the rea­son, why weeping should bee so sweet to people in misery? Hast thou (notwithstanding thou art present every where) cast away [Page 164] our misery farre from thee? and thou remainest constant in thy selfe, but we are tumbled up and downe in divers tryals: and yet unlesse wee should bewayle our selves in thine eares, there should no hope remaine for us. How comes it then to passe, that such sweet fruit is gathered from the bitter tree of a miserable life, namely to mourne, and weepe, and sigh, and complaine? Is it this that sweetens it, that we are in hope thou hearest us. This may be rightly thought of our pray­ers, because they have a desire to approach unto thee. But may it be so said too concerning that griefe and mourning for the thing lost, with which I was then wholly overwhelmed? For I could not hope he should now revive againe, nor did I desire this with all my teares; but be­mone him onely I did, and weep for him: seeing a wretch I was, and had utterly lost all my joy. [Page 165] Or is weeping a bitter thing, and yet out of a full-gorg'dnesse of what we before enjoyed, and in the very instant while wee are a loathing of them, can it be plea­sing to us?

CHAP. 6. He tels with what great affecti­on he loved his friend.

1. BVt what speake I of these things? for 'tis no time to aske questions, but to confesse unto thee. Wretched I was; and wretched is every soule that is engaged in the friendship of mortall things; he becomes all to pieces when he forgoes them, and then first he becomes sensible of his misery, by which he is al­ready miserable even before hee forgoes them. This was my case at that time; I wept full bitterly, and yet was best at quiet in that bitternesse. Thus was I wretch­ed [Page 166] enough, and that wretched life I accounted more deare than my friend himselfe. For though I would gladly have exchanged it, yet as unwilling I was to for­goe that, as I had been to lose him; yea I knew not whether I would have forgone that, even to have enjoyed him. The old Translator confounds these two sentences. Like as the tradition, (if it be not a ficti­on) goes of Pilades and Orestes, who would gladly have dyed one for another, or else both to­gether, it being to them worse than death not to live together. But I know not what kinde of affection prevailed with mee which was too much contrary to theirs, for both grievously tedious to me it was to live, and yet fearefull I was to dye. I sup­pose that how much the more affectionately I loved him, so much the more did I both hate and feare (as my cruellest enemy) death which had bereaved me of him: and I imagined it would [Page 167] speedily make an end of all other men, because it had the power to doe of him. Even thus I well re­member, stood I then affected.

2. Behold my heart, O my GOD, yea search it throughly; search it because I remember it well, O my Hope, who cleansest me from the impurity of such af­fections, directing mine eyes to­wards thee, and plucking my feet out of the snare. For I much admired that other mortals did live, since he whom I so loved, as if he never should have dyed, was now dead: yea, I more ad­mired that my selfe who was to him a second selfe, should be a­ble to live after him. Well said he of his friend, Thou halfe of my soule: for I still thought my soule and his soule, to have beene but one soule in two bodies: This con­ceipt Saint Augustine Retracted afterwards Retract lib. 2. cap. 6. and therefore was my life a very horror to me, because I would not live by halves. And even therefore perchance was I afraid [Page 168] to dye, lest he should wholy die, whom so passionately I had lo­ved.

CHAP. 7. The impatientnesse of griefe con­straines us to shift our dwel­lings.

1 O Madnesse, which know­est not how to love men, as men should be loved! O foo­lish man, which so impatiently endurest the chances mortality is subject unto! Thus mad and foolish was I at that time. There­fore I storm'd, and pu [...]t, and cry­ed, and tumbled, being capable neither of Rest nor Counsayle. For I was sayne to uphold my shattered and blood-blubbered Conscis­sam & cru­entatam, (not cruen­tam) ani­mam. soule which yet had not pati­ence enough to be supported by me, yet a place where to dispose of it, I could not light upon. Not in the delightfull groves, not [Page 169] where mirth and musicke was nor in the odoriferous Gardens, nor in curious Banquettings, nor in the pleasures of the Bed and Chambering; nor (finally) in reading over eyther Verse or Prose, tooke it any content­ment. Every thing was offen­sive, yea, the very light it selfe; and whatsoever were not as hee was, was alike painefull and hatefull to me, except groaning and weeping. For onely in those found I a little refreshment.

2. But so soone as I had reti­red my soule from them, a huge weight of misery over-loaded me, which thou onely couldest ease and lighten, O Lord. I knew thus much, and yet indeed I would not, nor was I able; for thou wert not any solid or sub­stantiall thing unto me, when in those dayes I thought upon thee. For not thou thy selfe, but mine owne idle phantasie and errou [...] were then my God. If I offered [Page 170] to discharge my burthen upon that, to give it some easement, fell as it were into the empty ayre, and came tumbling againe upon me: whereupon I remai­ned so unfortunate a place to my selfe, as there I could neither stay, nor get away from it. For whi­ther should my heart flye from my heart? Whither was it pos­sible to fly from mine own selfe? Whither should I not have fol­lowed my selfe? And yet after all this, out of my Countrey fled: for so should mine eyes lesse looke for him there, where they were not wont to see him. And thus I left Tagaste, and came to Carthage.

CHAP. 8. Time cures Sorrow,

1. TImes lose no time; not doe they idly goe and re­turne about these senses of ours; [Page 171] but they cause strange operations in our minds. Behold, they went a [...] same day by day, and by going and comming to and a­gaine, they brought into my minde other notions, and other remembrances, and by little and little prec'd mee up againe with my old kind of delights, unto which my present sorrow gave some way. And yet to that a­gaine there succeeded, though not other griefes, yet the causes of other griefes. For how came that former griefe so easily and so deepely to make impression in me, but even from hence, that I had spilt my soule upon the sand, in loving a man that must once dye, as if he never had beene to dye? For the cōfortings of other friends did mostly repaire and refresh me, with whom I did love, what for thy sake I did not love: and this was a great Fa­ble, and a long lye; by the im­pare This pas­sage hath the old Translator rendred ve­ry mannerly, and I have followed him. repetition whereof, our [Page 172] soule, which lay itching in our eares, was wholly corrupted.

2. But that Fable would Not yet dye with me, so oft as any or my friends dyed. But there were some other things which in my friends company did take my minde; namely, to discourse, and to laugh with them, and to doe obsequious offices of courtesie one to another; to reade pretty bookes together, sometimes to be in jest, and other whiles seri­ously honest to one another; sometimes so to dissent without discontent, as a man would doe with his owne selfe, and even with the seldomnesse of those dissenting, season our more fre­quent consentings; sometimes would we teach, and sometimes learne one of another; wish for the company of the absent with impatience; and welcome [...] the new commers with joy [...] ­nesse. With these and the like expressions, proceeding out of [Page 173] the hearts; of those that loved and repaired one anothers affections, by the countenance, by the tongue by the eyes and by a thousand other most pleasing motions, did we Confla­re, & fa­cere: Here the Infini­tive Mood is put for the Praeter im­perfect tense plu­rall: Hee illudes to [...]he running or melting of glasse or metals to­gether. soder or runne as it were our soules together, and made but one out of many.

CHAP. 9. The comparing of humane friend­ship with divine.

1. THis is it now which a man loves in our friends; and so loves it, that he must in conscience confesse himselfe guil­ty if he should not love him that loves him againe, or not love that man againe that loves him first, expecting no other thing from him besides the pure demonstra­tion of his love. Hence is that mourning when ever a friend dyes, yea those overcastings of sorrowes, that steeping of the [Page 174] heart in teares, all sweetnesse ut­terly turn'd into bitternesse: hence too upon the losse of the life of the dying, comes the death of the living. But blessed is the man that loves thee, and his friend in thee, and his enemy for thee. For he alone loses none that is deare unto him, to whom all are deare, in him that can never bee lost. And who is this but our God, the God that made heaven and earth, and who filleth them, because in filling them he created them? Thee, no man loses, but he that lets thee go. And he that lets, thee goe, whither goes hee, or whither runnes he, but from thee well pleased, backe to thee of­fended? For where shall not such a one finde thy Law fulfilled in his owne punishment? And Ioh. 17. 17 thy Law is truth, and Truth is thy selfe.

CHAP. 10. All beauty is from God, who is to be praysed for all.

1. TUrne us O God of Hosts, shew us the light of thy countenance and wee shall bee whole. For which way soever the soule of man turnes it selfe, unlesse towards thee, it is even ri­vetted-into dolours. Yea though it settles it selfe upon beautifull objects without thee, and with­out it selfe: which beauties were no beauties at all, unlesse they were from thee. They rise, and set; and by rising, they beginne to have Being; they grow up, that they may attaine perfecti­on; which having attained, they waxe old and wither: for grow old all must, and all must wither too. Therefore when they spring up and tend towards a Being, looke how much more hast they [Page 176] make to Be, so much the more they also make not to Be. This is the law of them. Thus much hast thou bequeath'd them, be­cause they are parcels of things which are not extant all at one time, but which by decaying and succeeding doe altogether play the part of the whole universe, whereof they are the parcels. And even thus is our speech de­livered by sounds significant: for it will never be O most dainty com­parison and expression! a perfect sen­tence, unlesse one word gives way when it hath sounded his part, that another may succeede it.

2. And by them let my soule prayse thee, O God, Creator of things; but yet let not my soule bee fastned in to these things with the glew of love through the senses of my body. For these things goe whither they were purposely to go, that they might no longer Be, and they cleave the soule in sunder which most [Page 177] pestilent desires: even * because Quon [...]a [...] ­a [...]m [...] ip­sa esse vult. This he tran­slates, for the soule desires to be. Short of the sense. the soule earnestly desires to be one with them, and loves finally to rest, in these things which shee loves. But in those things shee finds not settlement, which are still fleeing, because they stand not ever at the same stay: and who is he that can follow them with the senses of his flesh; yea, who is able to overtake them, when they are hard by him?

3. For the sense of our flesh is slow, even because it is the sense of our flesh: and it's selfe is it's owne measure. Sufficient enough it is for the end it is made for; but it is not sufficient for this, namely, to hold at a stay things running of course from their Ab initio debito, us­que ad finem debtum. appointed starting place, to their Races end. For in thy Word by which they were crea­ted, they heare this signall, from hence, and even thus farre.

CHAP. 11. All things are created muta­ble in themselves, and immu­table in God.

1. BE not foolish O my soule and make not the care of thine heart deafe, with the tu­mult of folly. But hearken now: the Word it selfe calls to thee to returne: for there is the place of quiet not to be disturbed, where thy love can never be forsaken, if it selfe leaves not off to love. Be­hold, these things give way that other things may come in their places, that so this lower would may at last have all his parts. But doe I ever depart, saith the Word of God? There set up thy dwelling, trust there whatsoever thou hast left, O my soule; es­pecially since thou art at length tired out with these uncertainties. Recommend over unto truth, [Page 179] whatsoever thou hast left of truth; and thou shalt lose no­thing by the bargaine; yea, thy decaies shall reflourish againe, and all thy languishments shall be recovered; thy fadings shall be refreshed, shall be renewed, and shall be made to continue with thee: nor shall they put thee downe to the place whither themselves descend; but they shall stay with thee and stand fast for ever before that God, who himselfe stayes and stands fast for ever.

2. Why now my perverse soule wilt thou be still following thine owne flesh? Let that rather turne and follow thee. What ever by her thou hast sense of, is but in part: and the whole whereof these are parts, thou knowest not; and yet this little contents thee. But had the sense of thy flesh beene capable of compre­hending the whole, and not for thy punishment beene stinted to [Page 180] a part of the whole; thou wouldst have then desired that whatsoe­ver hath existence at this present should passe away, that so the whole might better have pleased thee altogether. For what wee speake, by the same sense of the flesh thou hearest, and yet wouldst not thou have the same syllables sound ever, but flye a­way, that others may come on, and thou mayst heare up the whole sentence. Thus are all these things in ever Being, which have still any one part of theirs in be­ing, and yet all those parts which goe to the making up of that whole Being, are never all toge­ther in present Being. All toge­ther surely must needs delight morefully, than parts single, if the pleasure of all could be felt all at once. But farre better than these all, is he that made all: and he is our God: nor does he de­part away, for that he hath no successor: If bodies then please [Page 181] thee, praise God for them, and turne thy love upon him that made them; lest otherwise in those things which please thee, thou displease him.

CHAP. 12. Love of the creatures is not for­bidden, provided that in those which please us, God bee lo­ved.

1. IF then soules please thee, let them be loved in God: for they are mutable, but in him are they firmly established, or else would they passe, and perish. In him therefore let them be belo­ved; and draw unto him along with thee as many soules as thou canst, and say to them, Him let us love, let us love him; he made all these, nor is hee farre from them. For he did not once make them, and then get him gone, But of him, and in him they are. [Page 182] See where he is, even where-ever truth is savoury. Hee is within the very heart, but yet hath the heart strayed from him. [...] againe to your owne heart O [...] transgressors, and cleave fast [...] Esay 46. 8. to him that made you. [...] with him, and you shall [...] surely: Repose your [...] him, and yee shall rest [...] Whither goe you i [...] these [...] ­gy passages? O whither goe you The good that you love, is [...] him; and in respect of him, [...] both good and pleasant. But it shall justly be turned to bitter­nesse, because whatsoever is from him is unjustly loved, if hee be forsaken for it.

2. Whither now wander [...] further and further over these difficult and troublesome passa­ges? There is no rest to be found where you seeke it. Seeke what you doe seeke, but yet 'tis not there where you are seeking for it. You seeke a blessed life in [Page 183] the land of death; 'tis not there: for how should there be a happy life, where there is at all no life? But our Life descended downe hither, and tooke away our death, and kild him, out of the abundance of his owne life: and he thundered, calling unto us to returne from hence to him into that secret place, from whence he came forth to us; comming first into the Virgins wombe, where the Humanity was mar­ryed unto him, (even our mor­tall flesh, though not ever to be mortall) and thence came he like a Bridegroome out of his cham­ber, Psal. 19. 5. rejoycing as a Giant to run his course. For hee foreslow'd not, but he ranne, crying both in words, deedes, death, descent, and ascension; still crying to us to returne unto him. And hee withdrew himselfe from our eyes, that we might returne to our owne heart, and there finde him.

[Page 184] 3. He withdrew himselfe, and behold he is still here. He would not tarry long with us, yet hath he not utterly left us; for thither is he gone, from whence he ne­ver parted, because the world Iohn 1. was made by him. And in this world hee was, and into this world hee came to save sinners, 1 Tim. 1. 15 unto whom my soule now con­fesseth, that he may heale it, for it hath sinned against him. O Psal. 41. 4. ye sonnes of men how long will ye be slow of heart? will ye not now after that Life is descended downe to you, will not you as­cend up to it and live? But whi­ther ascended you when you were high-conceipted, and lifted up your head into heaven? De­scend againe, that you may as­cend, and ascend to God. For descended you are, by ascen­ding against him. Tell the soules whom thou lovest, thus; that they may weepe in this valley of teares; and so carry them up [Page 185] with thee unto God, because by his Spirit thou speakest thus un­to them, if speak thou doest bur­ning with the fire of charity.

CHAP. 13. Love whence it comes.

1. THese things I as then knew not, and I fell in love with these inferior beauties, and I was sinking even to the ve­ry bottome, and unto my friends I said, doe wee love any thing that is not beautifull? For what is faire? and what is beauty? what is it that inveigles us thus, and that drawes our affections to the things we love? for unlesse there were a gracefulnesse and a beauty in them, they could by no meanes draw us unto them. And I markt narrowly and perceived that in the bodies themselves, there was one thing as it were the whole feature, which in that [Page 186] respect was beautifull, and ano­ther thing that did therefore be­come, because it was aptly fitted to some thing, as some part of the body, in respect of the whole body, or a shooe in respect of the foot, and the like. And this consideration sprang up in my minde even out of the innermost of my very heart, and I compo­sed certaine bookes De Of Faire and Fit. Pul­chro & Apto, two or three as I thinke. Thou knowest it O Lord, for 'tis out of my memory. For I have them not now by me, but lost they are, and I know not how.

CHAP. 14. Of his booke of Faire and Fit.

1. WHat was the cause, O Lord my GOD that moved me to dedicate unto Icherius an Orator of Rome these bookes of mine, whom as [Page 187] then I so much as knew not by face, but upon love to the man meerely for the fame of his lear­ning, which was eminent in him, and some words of his that I had heard, which very well plea­sed me? But rather did he please me, for that they pleased others, who highly extold him, admi­ting much that a Syrian borne, brought up first in the Greeke Eloquence, should afterwards prove so wonderfull a master in the Latine also: being above all this, a most knowing man in all the studies that pertaine unto Wisdome. A man is commended, and loved even when hee is ab­sent: Doth then this love enter the heart of the hearer immedi­diately from the mouth of the prayser? Nothing so. But by one lover is another inflamed. Hence comes it that hee is oft loved, who is heard commended, when (namely) his worth is beleeved to be truely set forth by the un­feined [Page 188] heart of the commender; that is, when he that loves him, prayses him. Thus then loved I men, upon the judgement of men, but not upon thine, O my God, in which no man is decei­ved. But yet why not as that noble Chariotier or Huntsman, so famously spoken of by our vulgar affections? no, but farre otherwise and more seriously; and even so as I would desire to be my selfe commended.

2. For I would by no meanes have my selfe or commended or lov'd, in that kinde that Stage­players are, (though I my selfe did sometimes both commend and love them) but I would choose rather to have liv'd con­cealed, than to be knowne that way; and to be hated, than in that kinde to be beloved. Where now are these overswayings of such various and divers kinds of loves distributed in one soule? what is it that I am in love with [Page 189] in another man? And what a­gaine is it, that did I not hate him for, I should not detest and keepe him out of my company, seeing wee are men either of us? For the comparison holds not, that as a good horse is loved by him, who would not yet be that horse, no not though he might; the same should likewise be af­firmed of a Stage-player, who is a fellow in nature with us. Doe I therefore love that in a man, which I hate to be, seeing I am a man? Man is a great deepe, whose very hayres thou numbe­rest, O Lord, and they fall not Mat. 10. 29. 30. to the ground without thee, and yet are the hayres of his head easier to be numbered, than are his affections and the motions of his heart.

3. But that Orator whom I so loved was one of those that I would have wisht my selfe to have beene: and I erred through a swelling pride, and was tossed [Page 190] up and downe with every wind, but I was governed by thee very secretly. And how now shall I know, and how may I upon a sure ground confesse unto thee, that I loved that man more for the love of them that commen­ded him, than for the good parts themselves for which hee was commended? Because if the selfe same men should not have dis­praysed him whom they before had praysed, and by dispraysing and despising him had they not told the same things of him, I should never have been so kin­dled and provoked to love him.

4. See where the impotent so le lyes along, that is not yet staid up by the solidity of truth. Iust as the blasts of tougues blow out of the brests of censurers, so is it carryed this way and that way, tumbled and tossed up and downe, and the light is so be­clowded that it can never dis­cerne the truth: And yet it is [Page 191] right before us. I conceived to purchase some great credit by it, if my stile and meditations might but be knowne to that famous man: which should he allow of, then were I more on fire, but if he disapprov'd, this vaine heart of mine utterly voyd of thy so­lidity, had been cut to the quick at it. And yet that subject of Faire and Fit upon which I wrote to him, my meditations gladly laboured upon, and though I wanted others to com­mend it, yet did I my selfe ad­mire it.

CHAP. 15. How his understanding being overshadowed with corpore­all Images, hee could not dis­cerne the spirituall.

1. BVt I could not all this while discover the maine point of the businesse in that art­full carriage of thine, O thou Omnipotent who onely doest great wonders: and my conceit rang'd through corporeal forms; as Faire, that is so, absolutely of it selfe; and Fit, which becomes gracefull when applyed to some other thing: and I defined and distinguished, and confirm'd my argument by corporeall exam­ples. I set my studies afterwards to consider of the nature of the Soule, but that false opinion which I had already entertained concerning spirituall, matters would not let me discover the [Page 193] truth, yet the force of truth did ever and anon flash into mine eyes, but I turn'd away my pan­ting soule from all incorporeall substances, setting it upon line a­ments, and colours, and swelling quantities. And for that I was not able to see all these in my soule, I verily beleeved that I could not see that soule of mine. And whereas in vertue I loved peace, and in vitiousnesse I ab­horred discord: in the first I ob­served an Vnity, but division e­ver to be in this. And in that V­nity, He alludes to the Ma­nichees er­rors, which had infe­cted him. I conceived the nature both of truth and of our chiefest good­nesse to consist: but in this divi­sion, silly I imagined, I know not what substance of an irrati­onall life, and the nature of the greatest evill, which should not onely be a substance, but a very The old Translator jumbles two sentences in­to one. true life also: and yet not at all depend on thee, O my God, of whom are all things. And yet that first I called Vnity, as if it [Page 194] had been a Soule with [...], but the latter I stiled a Duality (or a Division,) which should bee Anger, in unmanly cruelties: and lust, in beastly impurities; little knowing what I talke of He alludes to the Ma­nichees foolish Phi­losophical Divinity, which notwithstanding that the so [...]le and [...] [...] ­culties were created all at once, and all good, ( [...] by the Fall;) yet they made the Soule onely to be good, from which vertue came, which they called vnity; [...] that the soule was but one: but the powers of the soule, they (having an eye onely to the Fall and not to the Crea­tion) made to be absolutely and originally Evill and [...] causes of all Evill. Such were those two power of [...] Sensitive Appetite, the Concupiscible and the [...] ­cible: (of which they made their Duality or Division) whereof nature intended the first, (the Concupiscible or Longing appetite) for the conservation of the [...] and the pleasant or well being of it: and the [...] or angry appetite, for the defence of the Concupisci­ble: by which we are angry at, and resist whatsoever [...] our wellbeing The use of both together is to [...] good, and to [...] evill, for soule and body. [...] Appetites be in the Motive faculty of the [...] Soule: by these [...]e soule moves herselfe to or [...] sesued or abhorred object. Here the old [...] much mistakes, for want of Philosophie..

2. For I had not as yet either knowne or learn'd, that neither [Page 195] was any substance evill, or that our owne soule was not that chiefest and unchangeable good­nesse. For even as those are to be called facinora, that is, bold, heinous, and desperate deedes, if so be that motion of the soule in which the force of the Appetite now is, be vicious or corrupted, stirring it selfe insolently and un­rulily: and those are to be stiled Flagitia, Crimes, or naughty actions, when that affection of the soule, by which carnall plea­sures are taken into resolution, be any way immoderate or dis­orderly. And thus doe Errours and false opinions defile the con­versation, if so be that the rea­sonable soule it selfe be viciously disposed; as it was in me at that time, when I was utterly igno­rant of any other light to illu­strate it by, to make it partaker of the Truth, seeing of it selfe it is not that Nature of Truth. For thou shalt light my Candle, Psal. 18. 28 [Page 196] O Lord my God, thou shalt en­lighten my darknesse: and of thy fulnesse have wee all recei­ved; Ioh 1. 16, 9 for thou art the true light that lighteth every man that Iam. 1. 16. commeth into the world; for that in thee there is no variablenesse, 1 Pet. 5. 5. neither shadow of change. But I pressed towards thee, and was as fast thrust from thee, that I might taste of death: for thou resistest the proud.

3. And what could be prou­der, than for me with a wonder­full madnesse to maintaine, my selfe to be that by nature which thou thy selfe art? For whereas my selfe was mutable, (so much appearing manifestly unto mee, in that I became so ambitious to grow wiser, that of worse I might so prove better;) yet chose I rather to imagine thee to bee mutable, than my selfe not to be that which thou wert. Therefore gavest thou me the repulse, and thou curiedst my unconstant [Page 197] stiffe-neckednesse, and I fancied to my selfe certaine corporeall formes, and being flesh, I accu­sed flesh; and being a way faring spirit, I did not turne towards thee, but went nuddling on and on towards those fancies which have no being, neither in thee, nor in mee, nor in any body. For they were not created for me by thy Truth, but devised meerely by mine owne vaine conceipt, fancying out a body. And I de­manded of thy faithfull little ones, my fellow-Citizens, (from whom unbeknowing to my selfe I stood exiled) I put the question to them, I say, (prating and foolish man that I was!) Why therfore doth the soule erre which God hath created? But I would endure upon no termes, any one should demand of me, Why therefore doth God erre? And I stiffly maintained, that thy vnchangeable substance rather did erre upon constraint, [Page 198] than be brought to confesse mine owne changhable substance to have gone astray voluntarily, or gone any thing neere it.

4. I was at that time per­chance sixe or seven and twenty yeere old, when I composed those Volumnes; canvassing up and downe with my selfe these corporeall fictions, which were still buzzing in the eares of my heart, (which eares I intended rather, O sweet Truth, to hear­ken after thy inward melody) plodding all this time upon my Faire and Fit, and desiring to stay, and to hearken to thee, and to rejoyce exceedingly at the voice of thy Spouse, but could not bring my selfe to it; for by the cals of mine owne errours, I was drawne out of my selfe, and opprest with the weight of my owne proud conceipt, I sunke into the lowest pit. For thou didst not make me to heare [...] Psal. 51. 8. and gladnesse, that the [...] [Page 199] which thou hadst not yet enough broken might rejoyce.

CHAP. 16. The admirable aptnesse to Lear­ning, and the great under­standing S. Augustine had.

1. ANd what was I the bet­ter for it, when scarce twenty yeeres old, that Booke of Aristotles Praedicaments fal­ling into my hands, (of which my Rhetoricke-master of Car­thage, and others, esteemed very good Schollers, would be crac­king with full mouthes:) I ear­nestly and with much suspence gap't upon it at first, as upon I know not what deepe and di­vine peece; but read it over af­terwards, yea and attained the understanding of it, by my selfe alone? And comparing my Notes afterwards with theirs, who protested how hardly they gate to understand the Booke [Page 200] from very able Tutors, not di­ctating to them onely, by word of mouth, but taking paines also to delineate out in the Multa in pulvere depingen­tibus. Which the Other Tran­slator turnes, writing them in the dust: noting in his margent, that it was a manner of [...]iting then used. Boldly affirmed. I dare say there was never such a manner of writing. But thus it was; The Ma­thematicians had their pulverem Mathematicum, dust in linnen bagges, which scirced or pownc'd upon a board, they drew their Schemes and Diagrams upon, to make ocular demonstration withall; either for their owne use or their Schollers. This they could easily and the aply put in and out againe. Arch medes was taken in his Study, drawing his Mathematicall Lines in such dust. dust the Schemes and demonstrations of it; they could teach me no more of it, than I had observed before upon mine owne reading. And it seem'd plaine enough to my capacity, when they discourst of Substances, such as Man is, and of the Accidents inhering to these Substances; as for exam­ple, the figure of a man, how qualified he was, and of what shape and stature, how many foot high, and his relation to his kindred, whose brother he is, or where placed, or when borne, or whether he stands or sits, or bee shod or armed, or does or [Page 201] suffers any thing: and whatso­ever to bee learned besides in these nine Praedicaments, (of which I have given these former examples) or these other innu­merable observations in that chiefe Praedicament of Sub­stance.

2. What now did all this fur­ther me, seeing withal it as much hindred mee? when as I tooke paines to understand thee, O my God, (whose Essence is most wonderfully simple and un­changeable) imagining whatso­ever had being, to bee compre­hended under those tenne Prae­dicaments: as if thy selfe had beene subject to thine owne Greatnesse or Beauty; and that these two had an inherence in thee, like Accidents in their Subject, or as in a Body: where­as thy greatnesse and beauty is thy Essence; but a body is not great or faire in that regard as it is a body, seeing that though [Page 202] it were lesse great or faire, yet should it be a body notwithstan­ding. But it was a meere false­hood which of thee I had con­ceived, and no truth; a very fi­ction of mine owne foolery, and no solid ground of thy happi­nesse. For thou hadst given forth the command, and so it came to passe in me, that my earth should bring forth bryars and thornes in me, and that in the sweat of my browes I should eate my bread.

3. And what was I the bet­ter, that I the vile Slave to wic­ked affections, read over by my selfe, and understood all the bookes of those Sciences which they call liberall, as many as I could cast mine eye upon? And that I tooke great delight in them, but knew not all this while whence all that came whatsoever was true or certaine in them. For I stood with my backe to the light, and with my [Page 203] face toward these things which received that light: and therfore my face, with which I discern'd these things that were illumina­ted, was not it selfe illuminated. What-ever was written, either of the Art of Rhetoricke, or Lo­gicke, what-ever of Geometry, Musicke, and Arithmeticke, I attain'd the understanding of by my selfe, without any great dif­ficulty, or any instructor at all, as thou knowest, O Lord my God; even because the quicknes of conceiving, and the sharpnesse of disputing is thy gift: and yet did I not sacrifice any part of it to thy acknowledgement. All this therefore served not mee to any good imployment, but to my destruction rather, since I went about to get so good a part He alludes to the Pro­digall, Luk. [...]5. of my portion into mine owne custody; and I preserved not mine own abilities entire for thy service, but wandring into a far Country, to spend it there upon [Page 204] my Harlotries. For what good did it me to have good abilities, and not employ them to good uses? For I understood not that those Arts were attained with great difficulty, even by those that were very studious and in­genuous O wonderful naturall wit of S. Augu­stine! Schollers, untill that my selfe going about to interpret them in others hearing, hee was held the most excellent at them, who was able to follow me with least slownesse.

4. But what at last did all this benefit mee, thinking all this while, that thou, O Lord my God of truth, wert nothing but a vast and bright Body, and my selfe some peece of that Bo­dy? O extreme perversenesse! but in that case was I then; nor doe I blush, O my God, to con­fesse thy mercies towards mee, & to call upon thee, who blush­ed not then openly to professe before men mine owne blasphe­mies, and to barke against thee. [Page 205] What good did then my nimble wit, able to runne over all those Sciences; and all those most knotty Volumes, made easie to me, without helpe or light from any Tutor; seeing I err'd so The Papists brag of be­ing in the true Church, but plainely their Chic­kens seldome prove more than spoone­feathered, & not hard­penn'd. For they want the food here spoken of, Sound Faith. Tra­ditions, Le­gends, seined Miracles, carnall Vowes, and out side Sanctity, may puffe up, not e­difie. fouly, and with so much sacri­legious shamefulnesse in the Do­ctrine of Piety? Or what hin­derance was a farre slower wit to thy little ones, seeing they straggled not so farre from thee, but that in the Nest of thy Church they might securely plume themselves, and nourish the wings of charity, by the food of a solid faith.

5. O Lord our God, under the shadow of thy wings let us hope; defend thou, & hold us up. Thou shalt beare us up, both while we are little, and when we are gray-headed: for our weak­nesse, when 'tis from thee, then is it strength; but when 'tis of our selves, then is it weaknes indeed. Our good still lives with thee; [Page 206] from which because wee are a­verse, therefore are we perverse, Let us now at last, O Lord, re­turne, that wee doe not over­turne: because with thee our Good lives without any defect, which Good thou art. We shall not need to feare finding a place to returne unto, because we fell headlong from it: for how [...]ever wee have beene long absent from thence, yet that house of ours shall not fall downe; and that's thy Eternity. *⁎*

CHAP. 1. Hee stirres up his owne soule to praise God.

REceive heere the Sacrifice of my Confessions from the hand of my Tongue, which thou hast for­med and stirred up to confesse unto thy Name. Heale thou all [Page 208] my bones, and let them say, O Lord, who is like unto thee? For neither does a man teach thee what is done within himselfe, when he confesses to thee; seeing a closed heart shuts not out thy eye, nor can mans hard-hearted­nesse thrust backe thy hand: for thou openest it when thou plea­sest, either out of pitty or justice to us, and there is nothing can hide it selfe from thy heate. But let my soule praise thee that it may love thee: and let it confesse thine owne mercies to thee, that it may praise thee. No creature of thine is slacke or silent in thy praises, nor the spirit of any man by the praises of his mouth con­verted to thee; no nor yet any animall or corporeall creature, He meanes: that the goodly order and work­manship of the creatures causes those that well consider them, to o­pen their mouthes in praises to God for thē. The Old Translator is much puzled here, confounding both the sense and Sentences. by the mouthes of those that well consider of them: that so our soule may towards thee rowze it selfe up from wearines, leaning it selfe on those things which thou hast created, and [Page 209] passing over to thy selfe, who hast made them so wonderfully; where refreshment and true for­titude is.

CHAP. 2. Gods presence can no man a­void, seeing he is every where.

1. LEt unquiet and naughty people now run and flee from thee as fast as they will; yet thou seest them well enough, and canst distinguish of shaddowes. And behold, all seemes gay to them, meane while themselves be deformed. And what wrong have they done thee by it, or how have they disparaged thy government, which from the highest heaven to this lowest earth, is most just and perfect? But whither are they fled, when they fled from thy presence? Or in what corner shalt not thou finde them out? But runne a­way Psal. 139. 7 that they might not see [Page 210] thee, who well sawest them, that being thus blindfolded, they might stumble upon thee, be­cause thou forsakest nothing that thou hast made; that the unjust I say might stumble upon thee, and be justly vexed by it; with­drawing themselves from thy lenity, and stumbling at thy ju­stice, fall foule upon thy severity. Little know they in truth, that thou art every where, whom no place incompasses, and that thou alone art ever neere, even to those that set themselves furthest from thee.

2. Let them therefore be tur­ned backe, and seeke thee; be­cause as they have forsaken thee their Creator, thou hast not so given over thy Creature. Let them bee converted, that they may seeke thee; and behold, thou art there in their heart, in the heart of those that confesse to thee, and that cast themselves upon thee, and that powre forth [Page 211] their teares in thy bosome, after all their tedious wandrings. Then shalt thou most gently wipe away their teares, that they may weepe the more, yea, and delight in their weeping; even for that thou, Lord, and not a­ny man of flesh and blood, but thou Lord, who madest them, canst refresh and comfort them. But whereabouts was I, when I sought after thee? Thou wert directly before mee, but I had gone backe from thee; nor did I then finde my selfe, much lesse thee.

CHAP. 3. Of Faustus the Manichee: and of Astrologie.

1. LEt mee lay open before my GOD that nine and twentieth yeere of mine Age. There came in those dayes unto Carthage a certaine Bishop of [Page 212] the Manichees, Faustus by name: a great snare of the Di­vell he was, and many were in­tangled by him in that ginne of his smooth Language: which though my selfe did much com­mend in him, yet was I able to discerne betwixt it, and the truth of those things which I then was earnest to learne: nor had I an eye so much to the curious Dish of Oratory, as what substance of Science their so famous Faustus set before me to feed upon. Re­port had before-hand highly spoken him to me; as, that hee was a most knowing man in all honest points of Learning, and exquisitely skilled in all the li­berall Sciences.

2. And for that I had some­times read many bookes of the Philosophers, and had fresh in memory much of theirs; I pre­sently fell to compare some points of theirs to those soule fa­bles of the Manichees: and those [Page 213] things verily which the Philoso­phers had taught, (who could onely prevaile so far as to make judgement of this lower world, though the Lord of it they could by no meanes finde out) seem'd farre more probable unto mee. For great art thou, O Lord, and hast respect unto the humble, but Psal. 138. 6 the proud thou beholdest afarre off. Nor doest thou draw neere, but to the contrite in heart, nor art thou found by those that bee proud, no not though they had the curious skill to number the Starres and the sand, and to quar­ter out the houses of the heaven­ly Constellations, and to find out the courses of the Planets. For with their Vnderstanding and Wit, which thou bestowedst on them, doe they search out these things: yea they have found out and foretold many a yeere, before the Eclipses of the lights of the Sunne and Moone, what day and what howre, and how ma­ny [Page 214] Digits they should bee so, nor hath their calculation faild them: and just thus came all to passe as they foretold; and they committed to writing the Rules found out by them, which are read this day, and out of them doe others foretell in what yeere, and moneth of the yeere, and what day of the moneth, and what howre of the day, and what part of it's light, the Moone or Sunne is to be Eclipsed, and so it shall come to passe as it is fore­shewed.

3. At these things men won­der and are astonished, that know not this Art, and they that doe know it, triumph and are ex­tolled; and our of a wicked pride turning backe from thee, failing thereby of thy light, they foresee an Eclipse of the Sunne so long beforehand, but perceive not their owne which they suffer in the present. For they enquire not religiously enough from whence [Page 215] they are enabled with the wit, to seeke all this withall: and finding that 'tis thou that made them, they resigne not themselves up unto thee, that thou mayst pre­serve what thou hast made, and that they may kill in sacrifice unto thee, what they have made themselves to be; and slay their owne exalted imaginations, like as the fowles of the ayre; and their owne curiosities, like as the fishes of the Sea, in which they wander over the unknown paths of the bottomlesse pit; and their owne luxuriousnesse, like as the beasts of the field; that thou Lord, who art a consuming fire, Deut. 4. 21. mayst burne up those dead cares of theirs, and renew themselves immortally.

4. But they knew not that way, (thy Word) by which thou madest these things which them­selves can calculate, and the cal­culators themselves, and the sense by which they see what they [Page 216] calculate, and the understan­ding, out of which they do num­ber it; or that of thy wisedome there is no number. But the one­ly Begotten is made unto us Wis­dome, and Righteousnesse, and 1 Cor. 1. 30 Sanctification, and was numbred as one of us, and paid tribute unto Caesar. This way have not these men knowne, by which they should descend from them­selves downe to him, and by it ascend againe unto him. They verily knew not this way, and they conceit themselves to move in an high orbe, and to shine a­mongst the Starres; whereas be­hold they grovell upon the ground and their foolish heart is darkened. They discourse truely Rom. 1. 21. of many things concerning the creature; but the true Architect of the creature they doe not re­ligiously seeke after; and there­fore doe they not finde him. Or if they doe finde him, acknowled­ging him to be God, yet they glo­rifie Rom. 1. 21. [Page 217] him not as God, neither were thankefull, but became againe in their imaginations. They give out themselves to bee wise, attributing thy workes un­to their skill; and in this humor with a most perverse blindnesse study they on the other side to impute to thee their own follies; entitling thee who art Truth it selfe unto their lyes; changing Rom. 1. 23, 25. thus the glory of the uncorrupti­ble God into an Image made like corruptible man, and to birds, and foure footed beasts, and cree­ping things: changing thy truth into a lye, and served the crea­ture more than the Creator.

5. But yet diverse observati­ons concerning the creature tru­ly delivered by these Philoso­phers, did I retaine in memory, yea and I conceived the Reason of them by mine owne calcula­tions, the order of times, and the visible testimonies of the Staries: and all this I compared with the [Page 218] sayings of Manichaeus, who had written much of these subjects, doting most abundantly; nor did he give me any reason either of the Solstices, or Aequinoxes, or the Ecclipses of the greater Lights, nor of any such point as I had learned in the Bookes of secular Philosophie. But in his Writings was I commanded to beleeve all, but no answer met I withal unto those reasons, which had beene found true, both by mine owne calculatings and eye­sight; from all which, his was quite contrary.

CHAP. 4. Onely the knowledge of GOD makes happy.

1. TEll me, O Lord God of Truth, is whosoever is skilfull in these Philosophic all things thereby acceptable unto thee? Surely most unhappy is [Page 219] the man that knowes all these things, and is ignorant of thee: but happy is hee that knowes thee, though ignorant of these. And he that knowes both thee and them; is not the happier for them, but for thee onely; upon condition that as he knows thee, so he glorifies thee as God, and it thankfull, and becomes not vaine in his owne imaginations. Rom. 1. 21.

2. For even as he is in better case that knows how to possesse a Tree, and to returne thanks un­to thee for the commodities of it, although he knowes not how many cubits high it rises, or how broad it spreads; than hee that hath the skill to measure it, and keepes an account of all the boughes of it, and is neither ow­ner of it, nor knowes nor loves him that created it: Even so, a faithfull man; whose right all this world of wealth is, and who having nothing, yet doth as it were possesse all things, even by [Page 220] eleaving unto thee, to whom all things serve, though he knowes not so much as the Circles of the North; yet is it folly to doubt but he is in better estate than hee that can quarter out the heavens and number the starres, and poi­ses the Elements, and yet is neg­ligent of thy knowledge, who hast made all things in number, Wis. 11. 20 weight, and measure.

CHAP. 5. The rashnesse of Faustus, in tea­ching what he know not.

1. BVt yet who requested I know not what Mani­chaean to write these things, without the skill of which, true piety might well bee learned? For thou hast said unto man, Be­hold, Iob 28. 28. piety is wisedome: of which that Manichaean might be utter­ly ignorant, though perfect at the knowledge of these things: [Page 221] but these things because he knew not, most impudently daring to [...] them, hee was not able plainely to attaine the know­ledge of that piety. A great va­nity it is verily to professe the knowledge of these worldly things; but it is a pious thing to confesse unto thee. Wherefore this roving fellow prated indeed much of these things, that so be­ing confuted by those who had not learned the truth of these things, he might bee evidently discovered what understanding he had in points that were ab­struser. For the man would not have himselfe meanely thought of, but went about forsooth to perswade, that the Holy Ghost, Manichae­us his pride and blasphe­my. All He­retikes doe thus brag of the Spirit. the Comforter and Enricher of the faithfull ones, was with full auhority personally resident within him.

2. Whereas therefore he was found out to have taught falsely of the Heavens and Starres, and [Page 222] of the courses of the Sunne and Moone, (although these things pertaine little to the Doctrine of Religion) yet that his presum­ptions were sacrilegious is appa­rent enough, seeing that he deli­vered those things not onely which he knew not, but which himselfe had falsifyed, and that with so mad a vanity of pride, that he went about to attribute them to himselfe, as to a divine person. When-ever now I heare a Christian Brother, (either one or other) that is ignorant enough of these Philosophicall Subtil­ties, and that mistaketh one thing for another, I can patient­ly behold such a man delivering his opinion; nor doe I see how it can much hinder him, when as he doth not beleeve any thing unworthy of thee, O Lord, the Creator of all, if perchance hee be lesse skilled in the situation or condition of the corporeall crea­ture. But then it hurts him, if so [Page 223] be he imagines this to pertaine to the forme of the doctrine of piety, and will yet stand too stiffely in a thing he is utterly ig­norant of.

3. And yet is such an infirmi­ty in the infancie of a mans faith borne withall by our Mother Charity, till such time as this new Convert grow up unto a perfect man, and not to be carri­ed Eph. 4. 13, 14. about with every wind of Doctrine: whereas in that Fau­stus, who was so presumptuous as to make himselfe the Doctor and Author, the Ring-leader and chiefe man of all those whom he had inveigled to the opinion, that who-ever became his fol­lower, did not imagine himselfe to follow a meere man, but thy holy Spirit; who would not judge but that so high a degree of madnesse, when once hee had beene convicted to have taught such falsities, were not to be de­tested, and utterly rejected? [Page 224] But I had not cleerely as yet found out, whether the inter­changed alterations of the length and shortnesse of dayes and nights, yea of the day and night it selfe, with the Eclipses and wainings of the greater Lights, and other things of the like kind which I had read of in other Bookes, might be so expounded as to stand with his determina­tion of them: but though per­adventure it might so bee, yet should it remaine uncertaine to me, whether it were so or not: however, for the great sanctity supposed to be in the man, I was forsooth to propound to my selfe his authority, which ought to be enough to make mee be­leeve him.

CHAP. 6. Faustus was eloquent by nature, rather than by Art.

1. ANd by the space almost of those 9 yeeres, where­in with an unsettled mind I had beene a Disciple of the Mani­chees, with a desire set upon the Tenter-hookes, had I expected the comming of this Faitstus. For all the rest of that Sect, whom by chance I had light up­on, and had put to a non plus with my Questions and objecti­ons about these things, still pro­mised me this Faustus, upon whose comming and conference all these, and greater difficulties, if I had them, would most easi­ly and cleerely be satisfied. So soone therefore as he was come, I quickly tasted him to be a ve­ry pleasing-languag'd man, and one that could prate a great [Page 226] deale more delightfully of those points that they were wont to talke of: But how should a spruce Cup-bearer slake the thirst I had after those precious Cups? Mine eares had beene cloyed already with such trash; which did not now therefore seeme better to me, because bet­ter said; nor therefore true, be­cause eloquent; nor seem'd the soule wise, because the face had a good garbe, and the language a sweet tone. As for them who had made such promises of him to me, they plainely were no good Iudges of things; and ther­fore to them hee appeared pru­dent and wise, for that he could please them in the speaking.

2. Another sort of people I had also met withall, who Iust the Purilane humour of our ti [...]es; with whom our incom­parable Court Ser­mons are flatteries; and our neatest Preachers are Lady­preachers: for so they call them. be­come presently suspicious of the Truth it selfe, and refuse to ac­knowledge it so, if delivered in a picked and flue it discourse. But thou, O my God, hadst taught [Page 227] me by wonderfull and secret waies, and therefore I beleeve, even because thou hast taught me; for that is the very truth, nor is there besides thee any o­ther teacher of Truth, whereso­ever or whensoever he may bee famous. Of thy selfe therefore had I now learned; nor ought any thing seeme to be truely spo­ken, because eloquently set off; nor false therefore, because deli­vered with an untuneable pro­nuntiation. Againe, nor there­fore true, because roughly deli­vered; nor therefore false, be­cause graced in the speaking: but it fares with Wisedome and Folly, as it doth with wholsome and unwholsome Dyet; and with neate and undrest Phrases, as with Courtly or Countrey Ves­sels; either kinde of meats may bee serv'd up in either kinde of dishes. That greedinesse there­fore of mine, with which I had so long expected that man, was [Page 228] delighted verily with the carri­age and action of his dispute, flu­ently expressing himselfe, and in such termes as were very apt to set out his sentences to the best.

2. I was therfore much taken with him; and with others ma­ny, yea and more than those ma­ny, did I both praise and extoll him; this I tooke ill from him, that in the assembly of his Audi­tors, I might not be suffered to put in now and then, and This was the old fashion of the East; where [...] Schollers had liberty to aske que­stions of their Ma­sters, and to move doubts as the Pro­fessors were rea­ding, or so soone as the Lecture was done. Thus did our Sa­viour with the Doctors, [...] 2. 46. So [...] still in some Eu­ropean V­niversities com­municate those questions that troubled me, by a familiar con­ferring and exchange of argu­ments with him. Which when I gate opportunity to doe, I, with other of my friends, both began to busie his eares, and that at s [...]h times too, as had not beene unde­cent for him to have exchanged an argument with me; and I o­pened my selfe in such things as did sway much with mee: but the man I found utterly unskil­full in the liberall Sciences, five [Page 229] of Grammar onely, and but or­dinarily in that neither. But be­cause he had read some of Tul­lies Orations, some few bookes of Seneca, divers of the Poets, and those Volumes of his owne Sect, which had beene written in the Latine tongue, and some­thing hansomly; and for that hee was daily practised in spea­king upon a subject; thence be­came hee furnished with elo­quence, which proved the more pleasing and inveigling, being govern'd by a good wit, and set off with a kind of gracefulnesse that was naturall unto him. Is it not thus, as I now remember, O Lord my God, thou Iudge of my conscience? Before thee my heart still is, and my remem­brance too; thou who didst at that time direct me by the hiddē secret of thy providence, & didst turne those shamefull errours of mine before my face, that I might see and hate-them.

CHAP. 7. He fals off from the Manichees.

1. FOr after that he had suffi­ciently appeared to me, to be thus ignorant of those Arts in which I thought hee had ex­celled; I began to dispaire that he should ever open and untye these difficulties which so much perplexed me; of which though a man were ignorant, hee might yet hold fast the truth of Piety, provided he were not a Mani­ches. For their Bookes are fraught with farre-fetcht Fables, of the Heaven, and the Starres, of the Sunne, and of the Moone, which I (having compared with the calculations I had read of other where) did not hereafter hold him any waies able subtile­ly to resolve me in (which I much desired) whether those things should bee rather so, as in the [Page 231] Manichees books they were cō ­tained, or that some as sufficient reason might at least bee fetcht out of them. Which Quaere's when I had offered to be consi­dered upon and discussed, hee modestly (to say truth) had not the boldnesse to undergoe the burthen, (being guilty of his owne ignorance in these Arts) nor was at last ashamed to con­fesse as much. For none of those prating fellowes he was, many of which I had beene troubled withall, that would undertake to instruct me in these Arts, and at last say nothing to the pur­pose. But this man bare an in­genuous mind, though not right towards thee, yet not too rash towards himselfe: for hee was not altogether ignorant of his owne ignorance; nor was hee willing rashly to ingage him­selfe in a Dispute, whence hee could neither get off, nor retire fairely. And even for this did [Page 232] I like the better of him: for fai­rer appeares the modesty of a confessing minde, than those things which I then desired to bee informed of. And at this guard I found him lying, in all those more difficult and subtiler questions.

2. My edge being thus taken off, which I had keenely inten­ded towards the Manichees doctrine; and despairing more of the performance of their other Doctors, seeing in divers things which had stumbled me, this so famous Faustus had appeared so shallow; I began with him to take the same course of life, according to that study which he was very hot upon, in that kinde of learning, in which at that time being a Rhetoricke-Reader in Carthage, I instru­cted yong Students; and I be­gan to reade with him, eyther what himselfe desired to heare, or such stuffe as I judged fit for [Page 233] such a wit. But all my endevour, by which I purposed to proceed in that Sect, upon knowledge of that man, began utterly to faint in me; not that I yet brake with them altogether, but as one not finding any thing better than that course, upon which I had some way or other throwne my selfe; I resolved to stay where I was a while, untill by some good chance something else might ap­peare, which I should see more cause to make choice of.

3. And thus that Faustus, who had beene the very snare of death unto divers, had now, nor willing nor knowing, begun to unbinde the snare in which I was fettered. For thy hands, O my God, out of the secret of thy providence, did not now forsake my soule; and out of the blood of my Mothers heart, through her teares night and day pow­red out, hadst thou a Sacrifice offered for me; and thou pro­ceededst [Page 234] with me by strange and secret wayes. This thou diddest, O my God: for the steps of a man shall bee directed by the Lord, and hee shall dispose his way. For how shall we procure Pro. 21. 29 salvation, but from thy hand, that repaires whatsoever thou hast made?

CHAP. 8. He takes a voyage to Rome, a­gainst the will of his Mother.

1. THou dealtest with me therefore, that I should be perswaded to goe to Rome, and to teach there, rather than at Carthage. And how I came to be perswaded to this, I will not neglect to confesse unto thee: because hereby thy most pro­found secrets, and thy most rea­dy mercie towards us, may bee considered upon and professed. I had no intent for this cause to [Page 235] goe towards Rome, that greater gettings, and higher preferments were warranted mee by my friends which perswaded me to the journey, (though these hopes likewise drew on my minde at that time) but there was another great reason for it, which was almost the onely reason, that I had heard how yong men might follow their studies there more quietly, and were kept under a stticter course of discipline; that they might not at their pleasures, and in insolent manner, rush in upon that mans Schoole, where their owne Master professed not, no nor come within the doores of it, unlesse he permitted it.

2. But at Carthage, on the o­ther side, reignes a most uncivill and unruly licentiousnesse The inso­lent fashion of the Stu­dents in Carthage. a­mongst the Schollers: They breake in audaciously, and al­most with Bedlam lookes, di­sturbe all order which any Ma­ster hath propounded for the [Page 236] good of his Schollers. Divers outrages doe they commit, with a wonderfull stupidnesse, deser­ving soundly to be punished by the Lawes, were not Custome the defendresse of them; this declaring them to bee more mi­serable, as if that were lawfull to doe, which by thy eternall Law shall never be so: and they suppose they escape unpunished all this while, whereas they bee enough punished with the blind­nesse which they doe it with, and that they already suffer things incomparably worse than what they doe. These mens manners therefore when I was a Student, I would never fashi­on my selfe unto, though when I set up Schoole I was faine to en­dure them from others: and for this cause was I desirous to goe to Rome, where, all those that knew it, assured me, that there were no such insolencies com­mitted. But thou, O my refuge Psal. 142. 5. [Page 237] and my portion in the land of the living, to force me to change my dwelling for the salvation of my soule, didst pricke me forward with goads at Carthage, with which I might be driven thence, and mad'st proffer of certaine al­lurements at Rome, by which I might be drawne thither: even by men who were in love with a dying life, now playing mad pranckes, then promising vaine hopes: and, for the refor­ming of my courses, diddest thou make secret use both of their perversenesse and of mine owne too. For both they that disturbed my quiet, were blinded with a base madnesse, and those that invited mee to another course, savoured meere­ly of the Earth. And I my selfe, who here detested true misery, aspired there to a false felici­ty.

3. But the cause why I went from thence, and went thi­ther, [Page 238] thou knewest, O God, yet didst thou neither discover it to me, nor to my Mother, who heavily bewailed my journey, and followed me as farre as the Sea side. But I deceived her, though holding me by force, that either I should goe backe with her, or she might goe along with me: for I feined that I had a friend whom I could not leave, till I saw him with a faire wind under saile. Thus I made a lye to my Mother, and to so good a Mother too, and so got away from her. But this hast thou mercifully forgiven mee, preser­ving me from the waters of the Sea, then full of execrable filthi­nesse, landing me safe at the wa­ter of thy Grace; He means the waters of baptisme. with which so soone as I were purged, those floods of my Mothers eyes should be dryed up, with which for my sake she daily watred the ground under her face, in prayer unto thee. At last refusing to re­turne [Page 239] without me, I with much adoe perswaded her to stay that night in a place hard by our Ship, where there was an Ora­tory erected Memoria beati Cy­priani. This the former Translator turnes, The Shrine of Saint Cy­prian: and notes in his margent, The place where S. Cyprians Reliques were kept. See our Pre­face. in memory of S. Cyprian. That night I privily stole aboord, but she tarryed be­hinde in weeping and prayer. And what, O Lord, requested she at thy hands, but that thou would'st not suffer me to saile a­way from her. But thou pro­foundly providing, and fearing the maine point of her desire, didst not at that time regard her petition, that thou mightest bring that to passe in mee, which she had alwaies beg'd of thee.

4. The wind blew faire, and sweld our sailes, and the shore withdrew it self from our sights. The morrow after she fell into an extreme passion of sorrow, and with complaints and lamen­tation she even fil'd thine eares, which did for that time little seeme to regard them: even then, [Page 240] when through the strength of my owne desires, thou didst hur­ry me away, that thou mightest at once put an end to al her cares: meane while her carnall affecti­on towards me, was justly pu­nished by the scourge of sor­rowes. For she much doated on my company, as Mothers use to doe, yea much more fondly than many Mothers: for little knew she how great a Ioy thou wert about to worke for her out of my absence. She knew nothing of it, therfore did she weepe and lament; proving herselfe by those tortures, to bee guilty of what Eve left behind her; with sor­row seeking, what shee had brought forth in sorrow. But ha­ving at last made an end of ac­cusing me of false and hard dea­ling with her, shee betooke her selfe againe to intreat thy favour for me, returned home: and I went on towards Rome.

CHAP. 9. Of a shrewd fever that hee fell into.

1. BVt loe, there was I wel­comed with the rod of bodily sicknesse, and I was even ready to goe to hell, carrying with me all those sinnes which I had committed, both against thee, and my selfe, yea many and grievous offences against others, over and above that bond of originall Because he was not yet baptised. Eph. 2. 16. sinne, whereby wee all dye in Adam. For thou hadst not yet forgiven mee any thing in Christ, nor had he yet slaine that enmity by his Crosse which by my sins I had incurred: and how indeed could he by an ima­ginary suffering upon it, which was my Another errour of the Manichees who belee­ved not Christ to have assu­med a true body, but a phantasticall appearance and shape onely. beleefe of it. How false therefore the death of his Flesh seemed unto mee, so true was the death of my soule; and how true the death of his body was, so false was the life of my [Page 242] soule, which did not beleeve the death of his body. My fea [...]es now growing more violent upon me, I was at the point of going and perishing: for whither should I have gone, had I dyed at that time, but into fire and torments, such as my misdeeds were worthy of in the truth of thy decree. Of all this nothing knew my mother, yet continued she to pray for me though in ab­sence. But thou who art pre­sent every where, heardest her where she was, and hadst com­passion upon me, whereas I was; for I recovered health of body thereupon, though sorely crazed as yet in my sacrilegious heart. For I had not in all that danger desired thy baptisme, & I was bet­ter affected being but a youth when through my mothers devo­tion in my sicknesse I had bin ve­ry earnest to receive it: as I have before recited and confessed.

2. But I had from thence­forth [Page 243] growne worse and worse, to my owne shame: and now starke madde I scoffed at those prescripts of that Physike of thine by which thou wouldst not suf­fer me to dye He alludes to his owne Manichae­an humour and con­tempt of Baptisme, that Physike of the soule which suffers it not to dye the second death, thogh the body through sick­nesse dyes the first. Here the for­mer Tran­slator mi­stakes and misses: tal­king of I know not what jour­ney. two deaths at once: with which wound should my mothers heart have beene goared, it could never have been cured. For I want words to ex­presse the affection shee bare to­wards me; and with how much vehementeranguish she was now in labour of me in the spirit, than she had been at her child-bearing in the flesh. I cannot possible see therefore, how she should have beene cured had so unchristian a death of mine, once strucken through the bowels of her love. And what should then have be­come of those passionate prayers of hers, so frequently and inces­santly in all places made Nusquā nisi, or nus­quam non (as Suetonius hath it) no place omitted, or, in every place. In the Latine, the Interrogative point should not be after intermissione, but after ad te. unto [Page 244] thee? But wouldst thou O God of mercies, have despised that contrite and humbled heart of that chast and sober widdow, so frequent in Almesdeeds, so ob­sequious and serviceable to thy See 1 Tim. 5. 10. Saints, who passed no day without her Oblati­ons were those offe­rings of bread, meale or wine for making of the Eucha­rist, or of Almes be­sides for the poore, which the Primi­tive Christi­ans every time they communica­ted brought to the Church, where it was received by the Deacons, who presented them to the Priest or Bishop. Here note, 1. They communicated daily. 2. They had Service morning and evening, and two Sermons a [...] many times. 3. Note that Saint Monica never heard Masse (as the Popish Translater would have it in his mar­geat:) for Masse is not sound in Saint Augustine. 4. Observe that here bee Sermons too: which because the Papists have not with their Masses, he cunningly (but fal [...]ily) translates Sermonibus, Inspirations. oblation at thine Altar, never missing twice a day morning and evening to come to Church, not to listen after idle tales and old wives chat; but that shee might heare thee speaking to her in thy Ser­mons, and thou her, in her pray­ers.

3. Couldst thou despise and reject without thy succour those [Page 245] teares of hers, with which shee beg'd no gold or silver of thee, nor any mutable or fading good; but the salvation of her sonnes soule onely? couldst thou doe it, by whose grace she was inspired to doe thus? By no meanes, Lord. Yea thou wert still at hand, and thou heardest her, and thou didst all in the selfe-same order thou hadst predestinated it should be done in. Let it ne­ver bee thought thou shouldst deceive her in those Visions and Answers shee had of thee; both those which I have already re­membred, and those which I have not remembred; all which shee laid up in her faithfull heart, which in her prayers ever and anon shee would presse thee withall, as with thine owne handwriting. For thou, (be­cause they mercy endureth for e­ver) vouchsafest unto those whose debts thou forgivest thoroughly, even to become a [Page 246] kinde of debter by thy promi­ses.

CHAP. 10. His errours before his receiving of the Doctrine of the Gos­pell.

1. THou recoveredst me ther­fore of that sicknesse, and healedst the sonne of thy hand­mayd at that time in his body, that thou mightest bestow upon him a health farre better and more certaine. I consorted my selfe in Rome at that time with those deceiving and deceived Holy These glo­rious titles did the Ma­nichees as­sume. So doe our own schismaticall Pure ones. This spiritu­all pride still accompanies Hereticks: yea, 'tis a sare marke of heresie: Marke how Saint Au­gustine de­scribes them: We have those now a dayes that say, God sees no sinne in them: and 'tis not they that sinne, but corrupti­on in them. ones: not onely with their Disciples, (of which mine Host was one, in whose house I fell sicke and recovered:) but also with those whom they cal­led The Elect. For I was hither­to of the opinion, That it was not wee our selves that sinned, but I know not what other na­ture [Page 247] in us; and it much deligh­ted my proud conceipt, to bee set beyond the power of sinne; and when I had committed any sinne, not to confesse I had done any, that thou mightest heale my soule when I had sinned a­gainst thee: but I loved to excuse it, and to accuse I know not what other corruption that I bare a­bout me, and that it was not I that did it. But verily it was I my selfe altogether, and mine owne impiety had made the di­vision in me: and that sinne of mine was the more incurable, for that I did not judge my selfe to be a sinner; and most execra­ble iniquity it was, that I had rather have thee, O GOD Al­mighty, even thee I say, to bee overcome by me to mine owne destruction, than my selfe to bee overcome of thee, to mine owne salvation.

2. Thou hadst not yet there­fore Psal. 141. 3, 4. set a watch before my mouth, [Page 248] and kept the doore of my lipps; that my heart might not incline to wicked speeches, to the excu­sing of these excuses of my sinnes with the men that worke iniqui­ty: and even therefore continued I still combined with their Elect ones. But yet now as it were dispayring much to profit my selfe in that false doctrine, even those opinions of theirs (with which if I could chance upon no better, I was resolv'd to rest con­tented) I began now to be some­thing more remisse and carelesse in the holding. For there rose a conceipt in me, That those Phi­losophers, which they call Aca­demikes, should bee wiser than the rest, even for that they hold, men ought to make a doubt upon every thing: and for that they determined, how that no truth can bee comprehended by man: for thus to me they seemed clear­ly to have thought, as it is com­monly received, even by such as [Page 249] understand not the utmost of their meaning by it.

3. And as free and open I was to disswade that Host of mine, from that too much confidence, which I perceived him to settle upon those fabulous opinions, which the Manichees bookes are full of. And yet I made more familiar use of their friendship, than I did of other mens that were not of this heresie. Yet did I not maintaine it with my anci­ent obstinacy, but yet did my fa­miliarity with that Sect (of whom Rome shelters too many) make me slower to seeke out a­ny other way: especially seeing I now despayred, O LORD of heaven and earth, Creator of all visible and invisible things, to finde the truth in thy Church, which they had quite put mee out of conceipt with. And it then seem'd a very unseemely thing to beleeve thee to have the shape of our humane flesh, and [Page 250] to be girt up in the bodily linea­ments of our members. And be­cause that when I had a desire to meditate upon God, I knew not how to thinke of him, but as of a Bulke of bodies, (for that see­med to me not to bee any thing, which was not such) this was the greatest, and almost the one­ly cause of my inevitable mispri­sion.

4. For hence it was that I be­leeved Evill to have been a kind of substance, and had a bulke of earth belonging to it, either de­formed and grosse, which they Other of the Mani­chees er­rours. called Earth: or else thinne and subtile, (like the body of the Ayie) which they imagine to be some ill-natured mind, gli­ding thorow that Earth. And for that I know not what not ill­minded piety, constrained me to beleeve that the good God never created any evill nature; I sup­posed two Bulkes, contrary to one another, both infinite, but [Page 251] the Evill to be lesser, and the Good larger: and out of this pe­stilent foundation, other sacrile­gious conceipts followed upon me. For when my minde ende­voured to have recourse backe unto the Catholike faith, I was still stav'd off againe, for that that indeed was not the Catho­like faith, which I beleeved to have beene. And I seemed more reverently opinioned, if I should have beleeved thee, O my God, (to whom thy mercies wrought in me doe now confesse) to bee infinite in other parts, although on that side by which Evill was set in opposition unto thee, I was constrained to confesse thee to be finite; than if in all parts I should imagine thee to be finite­ly concluded within the shape of an humane body.

5. And it seemed safer for me to beleeve thee to have never crea­ted any evill, (which to ignorant me seemed not some substance [Page 252] onely, but to be corporeall also: and for that I could not hit to thinke of any spirituall minde, unlesse it should be a subtle body, and that diffused too by locall spaces) than to beleeve any thing could come from thee of that condition, which I imagined the nature of Evill to be. Yea and our blessed Saviour himselfe, thy onely begotten Sonne, reached (as it were) for our Salvation, out of the most bright masse of thy Substance, I so thought of, as that I beleeved no other thing of him, than that I was able to imagine by mine own vaine fan­cie. Such a nature therefore I thought could never bee borne of the Virgin Mary, unlesse it were incorporated [...] car­ni concer­neretur. Concerni autem & non inqui­nari, &c. into her flesh: and how that which I had on this fashion figured out to my selfe, should bee incorpo­rated, and not therewithall defi­led, I saw not. I feared therefore to beleeve Christ to be borne in [Page 253] the flesh, lest I should be infor­ced also to beleeve that he was defiled by the flesh. Now will thy spirituall children in a mild and loving manner laugh at me, when they shall reade these my Confessions: But such a man I then was.

CHAP. 11. How bee compared the Mani­chees Tenents with the Ca­tholikes.

1. FVrthermore, what-ever these Manichees had found fault withall in thy Scrip­tures, I thought not possible to be detended: but yet verily had I a good will now and then to confer upon these severall points with some man that were best skilled in those bookes, and to make experience what hee thought of the matter: For the speech of one Helpidius, spea­king and disputing face to face against the said Manichees, had [Page 254] already begun to stirre me, even whilst I was at Carthage: when namely he produced such Texts out of the Scriptures, which were not easily to bee with­stood, and that the Manichees Answer seemed but very weake unto me.

2. which Answer they would not willingly be drawne to de­liver in publike hearing but a­mongst our selves onely in pri­vate; namely when as they said, that the Scriptures of the New Testament had beene corrupted by I know not whom, who were desirous to insert the Law of the Iewes into the Christian Faith: whereas themselves all this while brought not out any Copies that had not beene so corrupted. But me, strongly captivated, and sti­fled, as it were, with beating my thoughts about these corporeall phantasies, did these bulkes keep downe; under which struggling for the breath of thy truth, I was [Page 255] not able to take it in pure and untainted.

CHAP. 12. The cunning tricks put at Rome by Schollers upon their Ma­sters.

1. DIligently therefore be­gan I to put in practice that for which I came to Rome: that is, to teach Rhetoricke. And first of all, to draw some to my Lodging, to whom, and through whose meanes I beganne to bee made knowne abroad: when as behold I came to know how that other misdemeanours were committed in Rome, which I could not indure in Africke. For those See Booke 3. Chap. 3. OVERTVRNINGS ('tis true) committed by despe­rate yong fellowes, were not here practised, as it was plainely told me: but yet, said they, to a­void payment of their Masters [Page 256] stipend, divers yong Schollers plot together, and all on the sudden, to avoid due payment to their Masters, these promise-breakers, who for the love of money make no account of just dealing, remove themselves to another. These sharking com­panions my heart hated also, though not with a perfect ha­tred: Psal. 139. 22. For I more hated them (perchance) for that my selfe was to suffer by them, than for that they plaid such dishonest pranks with every man.

2. Such verily bee but base fellowes, and they play false with thee, in loving these flee­ting mockeries of the Times, and in griping after this dir­ty gaine, which when it is got hold of, bemyres the hand; and in embracing this sleeing World, and in despising thee, who abidest ever, and who cal­lest backe, and grantest pardon to mans adulterated soule that [Page 257] returnes unto thee. And now I much hated such wicked and perverse natures, though I could well love them were they to bee amended; and that they would once preferre Learning before their Money; and a­bove their Learning esteeme of thee, O GOD, the Truth and fulnesse of all assured good, and the most chast peace. But I was even for mine owne sake more unwilling in those dayes to beare with those that dealt ill with me, than desirous that they should at last become good for thy sake.

CHAP. 13. He goes to Millan to teach Rhe­toricke, and how S. Ambrose there entertaines him.

1. VVHen therefore they of Millan had sent to Rome to the Praefect of the [Page 258] Citie, desiring to bee furnished thence with a Rhetoricke-Ma­ster for their Citie, taking order also for the Imperti­ta etiam evectione publica. Sending of Waggons or Horses, and a man to defray his charges up­on the Cities purse. Thus had the Ancients their publike Horses or Waggons for the service of the State, and defraying the charges of their mi­nisters. Thus did Constantine oppoint Coaches and Horses of Relay for the Bishops that were to come to the Councell of Nice. This is supplyed by our Post-Horses, and by the Secretary of State his allowance of money to those that ride with Packets upon the Kings Service. The former Translator, (whom I finde no great Antiquary nor Critike in Grammar) not standing to examine this turnes Impertita etiam evectione publica; The E­lection being publike. Wilfully changing eve [...] [...] into electione. But what then shall become of imperti­ta? In a marginall Note upon the end of the last Chapter but one, he challenges us to shew where the Papists had corrupted the Fathers: Sure here is Saint Augustine corrupted; if not out of malice, yet upon shrewd susp [...]tion of ignorance, and a desire to be rid of his Taske of Transla­ting. The collapsed Ladios he knew had no skill to ex­amine the Latine. Your Implicite Faith is your onely Faith: Why? Because 'tis Romane Catholike. accommodating him in his journey upon the publike charges: I put on to stand for the place, and that by meanes of those very Manichees (drunken with vanities) to be rid of whom, I purposely went a­way: [Page 259] yet did neither of us know certainely, whether upon my making a publike Vt dicti­one pro­posita, me probatum mitteret. This was, and still is the fashion, to make an Oration, or to read a Lecture for a void Professors place in our Vniversi­ties. The former Translator turnes it, would send me as approved from thence up­on publike provision to bee made. I understand not the man. Oration for the Place, Symmachus (then Praefect of the Citie) would so farre approve of me, as to send me thither. Well; unto Milan I came, to Bishop Ambrose, a man of the best fame all the world over, and thy devout ser­vant; (whose eloquent discourse did in those dayes plentifully dispense the flowre of thy wheat, He alludes to Psal. 4. 7. the gladnesse of thy oyle, and the sober overflowings of thy wine, unto thy people.) To him was I led by thee, ignorant of thy purpose in it; that by him I might be brought to thee, more cleerely knowing thee. That man of God entertained me fatherly, and approved of the cause of my comming, as became a Bishop.

2. I thenceforth beganne to love him; not at first verily as a Teacher of the Truth, (which I utterly despaired to finde in thy [Page 260] Church) but as a man of cour­teous usage to mee. And I ve­ry diligently heard him prea­ching to the people, not (al­though) with so good an intent as I ought, but, as it were, try­ing his eloquence, whether it were answerable to the fame that went of him, or whether more or lesse than was every where given out of him; and I weighed every word of his ve­ry attentively. But of the mat­ter I was carelesse and scornfull. And verily with the sweetnesse of his discourse I was much de­lighted; which, how-ever it were more learned, yet was it not so pleasing and inveigling as Faustus his was, the manner of the Oratory I meane; though for the matter there were no comparison. For Faustus did but rove up and downe with his Manichaean fallacies, but Am­brose taught salvation most soundly. But salvation is farie e­nough [Page 261] from sinners, such as I was at that instant; and yet drew I by little and little neerer toward it; but how, I knew not.

CHAP. 14. Ʋpon his hearing of Saint Am­brose, he by little and little fals off from his errours.

1. FOr though I tooke little heed to hearkē to what he spake, but meerely to the way how he delivered them: (for that empty care was now only left in me, I despairing utterly to find a way how to come unto thee) yet together with his words which I liked, the things also themselves which I neglected, stole in upon my mind; (for I knew not how to part them) and whilest I ope­ned my heart to entertaine How eloquently he exprest it, there also entred with it by degrees, How truely hee proved it. [Page 262] For first of all, the things began to appeare unto me as possible to be defended: and the Catholike Faith, in defence of which I thought nothing could bee an­swered to the Manichees argu­ments, I now concluded with my selfe, might well bee main­tained without absurdity: espe­cially after I had heard one or two hard places of the Old Te­stament resolved now and then; which when I understood lite­rally, He alludes to that in 2 Cor. 3. The letter kil­leth, but the Spirit giveth life. I was slaine spiritually.

2. Many places therefore of those Bookes having beene ex­pounded, I blamed mine owne desperate conceipt, whereby I had beleeved, Another of the Mani­chees er­rours. That the Law and the Prophets could no way be upheld against those that ha­ted and scorned them. Yet did I not resolve for all this, that the Catholike way might bee held safely; (seeing it might have it's Teachers and maintainers, which might be able, both copiously, [Page 263] and not absurdly, to answer some Objections made against it:) nor yet did I conceive that my for­mer way ought to bee condem­ned; because that both sides of the defence were equalled. For in this sort did the Catholike partie seeme to me not to bee o­verthrowne, as that it appeared not yet to be altogether victori­ous. Earnestly hereupon did I bend my minde, to see if it were possible to convince the Mani­chees of falshood: and could I but once have taken into my thoughts that there should be a­ny Spirituall substance, all their strong holds had beene beaten downe, and cast utterly out of my mind; but I was not able.

3. Notwithstanding concer­ning the body of this world, and the whole frame of Nature, which the senses of our flesh can reach unto, I now more serious­ly considering upon, and com­paring things together; judged [Page 264] divers of the Philosophers to have held much the more pro­bable opinions. After the man­ner therefore of the Academicks (as they are supposed) doubting now of every thing, and wave­ring up and downe betweene all; I absolutely resolved, That the Manichees were to be [...]nde­ned; judging in that time [...]: my suspence, that I could not safely continue in that Sect, before which I now preferred divers of the Philosophers: to which Phi­losophers notwithstanding, for that they were without the sa­ving Name of Christ, I utterly refused to commit the curing of my languishing soule. This ther­fore I determined, So long to be a An Audi­ [...]r, or a Disciple. Catechumenus in the Ca­tholike Church, (which had been so much commended unto me by my parents) till such time as some certaine marke should ap­peare, whereby I might steere my course.

CHAP. 1. How S. Augustine was neither Manichee, nor good Catho­like.

O Thou my hope e­ven frō my youth, where wert thou all this while, and whither wert thou gone? For hadst not thou crea­ted me, and set a distinction be­twixt [Page 266] me and the beasts of the field, and fowles of the Ayre? Thou hadst made me wiser than they, yet did I wander thorow the darke, and over the slippery, and I groped out of my selfe af­ter thee, but found not the God of my heart, and I drew neere even to the bottome of the Sea; and I distrusted, and I despaired of ever finding out the truth. By this time came my Mother unto me, (whom motherly piety had made adventurous) following me over Sea and Land, confident upon thee in all perills. For in the dangers upon the Sea, shee comforted the Mariners, (by whom the unexperienced passen­gers of the deepe, use rather to be themselves comforted) assuring them of a safe landing: because so much hadst thou assured her by a Ʋision.

2. She found mee grievously indangered by a despaire of ever finding out the truth. But when [Page 267] I had once discovered to her, that I was no longer now a Mani­chee, not fully yet a Christian Here Saint Augustine was too blame; for he should have said, A Romane Catholik, and not a Christian Catholike. And yet I quit him: For sure that Bull of Ro­mane Ca­tholike, was not heard of in his time. Luk. 7. 14. Catholike; she even leapt for joy; not as if shee had heard of some unlookt-for newes, seeing shee had beene satisfied before concerning that part of my mise­ry, for which she bewailed mee, not as one irrecouerably dead, but as if there were good hopes of his reviving; laying me forth upon the Biere before thee, that thou mightest say vnto the sonne of the Widdow, Yong man, I say unto thee, arise; And he should sit up, and beginne to speake, and thou shouldst deliver him to his Mother. Her heart therefore parted not in any perplexed kinde of rejoycing, when shee heard that to bee already in so great part done, which she daily with teares desired of thee might be wholly done; namely, that though I had not yet attained the truth, yet that I was rescued [Page 268] from falshood: yea rather, for that she was most certaine, that thou wouldst one day performe the rest, who hadst promised the whole; most calmely, and with an heart full of confidence, shee replyed to me; How shee fully beleeved in Christ, that shee should yet before she dyed, see mee Fidelem Catholi­cum: A faithfull Catholike. See what we have noted in the first Booke up­on this word Fidelis. Marke: here is Christia­nus Ca­tholicus, and Fidelis Catholicus, but yet not Romanus Catholic [...]: 'tis strange that Saint Augustine should so soone have forgotten Rome, from whence hee came s [...]lately! baptized into the Catho­like Faith.

3. And thus much said shee to me. But to thee, O Fountaine of mercies, powred shee forth more frequent prayers & teares, that thou wouldest hasten thy helpe, and enlighten my dark­nesse, that I might more studi­ously runne unto the Church, and settle my beleefe vpon Am­brose his Preaching, and desire the Fountaine She meanes Baptisme. of that Wa­ter, which springeth up into [Page 269] Life ever lasting. For that man shee loved as an Angell of GOD, because shee presumed most assuredly, that I had beene brought by him in the meane time to that doubtfull state of faith I was now in, by which I was to passe from sicknesse unto health; some sharper Here the former Translator incurres some suspi­cion of non sense: or of not full understanding the place. conflict comming betweene, in another Fit, as it were, which the Phy­sicians call The Crisis.

CHAP. 2. His Mother is turned from her Countrey Superstition.

1. VVHen as my Mother therefore had one time brought unto the Orato­ries See what wee have noted upon the eighth Chapter of the former Booke. erected in memory of the Saints, as she was wont to doe [Page 270] in Africke, certaine Pultes. There was the Romane Puls, and the Africā or Punike Puls. The making of which is de­scribed in Cato de Re rustica, cap. 85. The chiefe sub­stance wherof was Wheat-meale, or grotes, tempred with wa­ter, Cheese-curds, Honey, and Eggs: onely this Puls was boy­led, and ours baked. I beleeve that that parched Corne, mentioned, 1 Sam. 17. 17. was something like this Puls of Africa. The Hebrew word there is Kali, of Ka­lah, to parch. For they first parcht their Corne, then they fryed it, and lostly they boyl'd it to a paist, and then tempred it as before, which they carried dry with them to the Campe, and so wet the Cakes in wine or milke, &c. See Stuckius Antiqu. Conviv. l. 1. p. 58. Cheese-cakes, and Bread and VVine; and had beene forbidden to doe it by the O stiari­ius, the Doore-keeper. See our Preface. Sexton: so soone as ever she knew that the Bishop had forbidden this, shee did so piously and obediently embrace the motion, that I my selfe won­dred at it, that she should so ea­sily be brought rather to blame her owne Countrey custome, than to call the present counter­mand in question. For Wine-bibbing besotted not her spirit, nor did the love of Wine pro­voke her to the hatred of the Truth, as it doth too many (both men and women) who [Page 271] being a little whittled once, turne the stomacke to a song of sobri­ety, as they would doe at a draught of water. But she, when she had brought her basket of these solemne lunkets, which she meant to eat a little of first, and to give the rest away; never used to allow herselfe above one small pot of Wine, well allayed with water, for her owne sober palate, whence she would sippe a Dignati­onem su­m [...]ret. mannerly draught. And if there were any more Oratories of the departed Saints, that see­med to be honoured in like ma­ner, shee still carried the selfe­same pot about with her, which she used every where, which should not onely below allayed with water, but very lukewarme with carrying about: and this would shee distribute to those that were about her by small sups: for she came to those pla­ces to seeke devotion, and not pleasure.

[Page 272] 2. So soone therefore as shee found this custome to be coun­termanded by that famous Preacher, and the most pious Prelate (Ambrose,) yea forbid­den even to those that would use it but soberly, that so no occasion of ryot might thereby bee given to such as loved drinking too well; and for that these Parenta­lia. These Pultes, saith S. Au­gustine, were used in Parehtali­bus: and Pliny, lib. 18. c. 8. sayes, they were in his time used also in Notalibus, anniversary seasts for their birth dayes, fune­rall Anniversary Feasts, as it were, in honour of our dead Fa­thers, did too neerely resemble the superstition of the I he former Translator well notes in his margent, An inconvenient custome abrogated by S. Ambrose. I wish that the Pope would doe so with their Images of the dead Saints, upon the same reason, for that they are too like the superstitious Images of the Genules. But observe that S. Ambrose chang'd this cu­stome, and that at Milian, so neere Rome too. Where was then the Popes Authority? The Archbishop of Millan dares alter nothing now a dayes without the Popes Li­cence. Gentiles, she most willingly forbare it e­ver after: and in stead of a Bas­ket filled with the fruits of the earth, she now had learned to [Page 273] present a breast replenished with sinne-purging petitions at the Oratories of the Martyrs; and to give away, what shee could spare among the poore: that so the Cōmunion of the Lords Body might in that place bee rightly celebrated where after the exam­ple of his Passion these Martyrs had bin sacrificed and crowned.

3. But for all this it seemes to me, O Lord my God, and thus thinks my heart of it in thy sight: That my Mother would not so easily have give way to the brea­king of her. Countrey custome, had it bin forbidden her by some other man, whom she had not lo­ved so well as she did Ambrose, who in regard of my salvation, she very entirely affected; and he bergaing, as well for her most religious conversation, whereby s [...] full of good workes, so ser­vent in the spirit, she frequented the Church. Yea, so well he af­fected [...] that hee would very [Page 274] often when he saw mee, breake forth into her praises; congra­tulating with me, in that I had such a Mother: little knowing in the meane time what a sonne she had of me; who doubted of all these things, and least of all imagined the way to life could possibly be found out.

CHAP. 3. The employments and studies of S. Ambrose.

1. NOr did I hitherto grone in my prayers, that thou wouldest helpe me; but my un­quiet minde was altogether in­tentive to seeke for Learning and to dispute upon it. As for Ambrose himselfe, I esteemed him a very happy man accor­ding to the world, whom per­sonages of such authority so much honoured: onely his re­maining a [...] seemed Had it bin so generall in those daies, that all Bishops and Priests must upon paine of lo­sing their Orders, professe sin­gle life; why should Saint Augustine thinke thus of Am­brose more than of other Bishops of his time. a [Page 275] painefull course unto mee. But what hopes hee carried about him against the temptations his excellent parts were subject un­to, what struglings he felt, and what comfort hee found in his adversities, and how savourie joyes that mouth hidden in his heart fed upon in thy Bread, I neither knew how to ghesse at, nor had I yet any feeling of. As little on the other side knew hee of my privie heats, nor of the pit of my danger. For I had not the opportunity to make my de­mands to him, what I would, or how I would; for that multi­tudes of people full of businesse, whose infirmities hee gave up himselfe unto, debarred me both from hearing and speaking with him. With whom when he was not taken up, (which was but a little time together) hee either refreshed his body with necessary sustenance, or his minde with reading. But when [Page 276] he was reading, hee drew his eyes along over the leaves, and his heart searcht into the sense, but his voice and tongue were altogether silent.

2. Oft-times when we were present (for no man was debar­red of comming to him, nor was it his fashion to be told of any body that came to speake with him) we still saw him reading to himselfe, and never otherwise: so that having long sate in silence (for who durst be so bold as to interrupt him so intentive to his study?) wee were faine to de­part. We conjectured, that the small time which he gate for the repairing of his minde, hee rety­red himselfe from the clamour of other mens businesses, being unwilling to be taken off for any other imployment: and he was warie perchance too, left some hearer being strucke into sus­pence, and eager upon it, if the Author he read should deliver [Page 277] any thing obscurely, hee should be put to it to expound it; or to discusse some of the harder que­stions; so that spending away his time about this worke, hee could not turne over so many Volumes as he desired: although peradventure the preserving of his voice (which a little speaking would weaken) might bee a just reason for his reading to him­selfe. But with what intent so­ever he did it, that man certaine­ly had a good meaning in it.

3. But verily no opportuni­ty could I obtaine of propoun­ding my demands, as I desired, to that so holy an Oracle of thine, his breast, unlesse the thing might be heard very briefly. But those commorions in me, requi­red to finde him at his best lea­sure, that I might powre them out before him; but never could they finde him so. Yet heard I him every Sunday, preaching the Word of Truth rightly to [Page 278] the People; by which that ap­prehension of mine was more and more confirmed in me, that all those knots of crafty calum­nies, which those our The Ma­nichees. deceivers had knit in prejudice of the Holy Bookes, might well enough bee untyed.

4. But so soone as I under­stood withall, That Man, cre­ated by thee after thine owne I­mage, was not so understood by thy spirituall sonnes, (whom of our Catholike Mother thou hast begotten by thy Grace) as if they once beleeved or imagi­ned thee to be made up into an humane shape: although I had not the least suspicion, nor so much as a confused notion, in what strange manner a spirituall substance should be: yet blush­ing did I rejoyce, that I had not so many yeeres barkt against the Catholike faith, but against the fictions of carnall imaginati­ons. But herein had I beene rash [Page 279] and anpious, that what I ought to have learned by enquirie, I had spoken of as condemning. For thou, O the most high, and the most neere; the most secret, and yet most present with us; hast not such limbes, of which some be bigger, and some smal­ [...], but art wholly every where, circumscribed in no certaine place; nor art thou like these corporeall shapes; yet hast thou made man after thine owne I­mage, and behold, from head to foot is he contained in some cer­taine biding.

CHAP. 4. Of the Letter and the Spirit.

1. BEing thus ignorant ther­fore in what manner this Image of thine should subsist; I something earnestly propoun­ded the doubt, how that was to be [...]; but did not trium­phing [...]y oppose against it, as if [Page 280] it peremptorily should accor­ding to the Letter bee beleeved: The anxiety therefore of resol­ving what certaintie I was to hold, did so much the more sharply even gnaw my very bo­wels, by how much the more ashamed I was, that having bin so long deceived by the promise of certaineties; I had with a childish errour and stubbornnes, prated up and downe of so many uncertainties, and that as confi­dently as if they had beene cer­tainties. For that they were meere falshoods, it cleerely ap­peared to me afterwards: yea, even already was I certaine, that they were at least uncertaine, and that I had all this while be­leeved them for certaine. when as (namely) out of a blinde and contentious humour, I accused thy Catholike Church, which though I had not yet found to [...] tr [...], yet found, it not [...]o teach what I heartily [...] [Page 281] it, for teaching. In this manner was I first confounded, and then converted: and I much rejoy­ced, O my God, that thy onely Church, the body of thine onely Sonne, (wherein the name of Christ The Pri­mitive fa­shion it was, to impose the name when the partie was first admitted to be a Cate­chume­nus, or whē he desired baptisme. This had Saint Au­gustine done in 1 sicknesse, be­ing a Child, as before hee told us. This name was after given up a little before the Baptisme, and againe repeated both a: Baptisme and Confirmation. And whereas be here speakes of the name of Christ: 'tis meant of the custome of calling them Christians so soone as they gave up their names: the day after they were stiled Catechumeni, the day after that were they exorcised. So 'tis plainely in the great Councell of Constantinople, Canon 95. And so S. Augustine himselfe in divers places. had beene put upon me being yet an Infant) did not re­lish these childish toyes; nor maintained any such Tenet in her sound Doctrine, as to crowd up the Creator of this All, under the shape of humane members, into any proportions of a place, which, though never so great and so large, should yet be ter­minated and surrounded.

2. And for this I rejoyced also, for that the Old Scriptures [Page 282] of the Law & the Prophets, were laid before me now, to be peru­sed, not with that eye to which they seemed most absurd before, when as I misliked thy holy ones for thinking so & so, whereas in­deed they thought not so: and for that with joyfull heart I heard Ambrose in his Sermons to the people, most diligently oftentimes recommend this Text for a Rule unto them, The let­ter 2 Cor. 3. 6. killeth, but the Spirit giveth life: and for that those things, which taken according to the letter, seemed to teach perverse doctrines, he spiritually laid o­pen unto us, having taken off the veyle of the mystery; teaching nothing in it that offended mee, though such things he taught, as I knew not as yet, whether they were true or no. For I all this while kept my heart firme from assenting to any thing, fea­ring to fall headlong; but by this hanging in suspence I was [Page 283] the worse killed: for my whole desire was to be made so well as­sured of those things which I saw not, as I was certaine that seven and three make tenne.

3. For I was not so mad yet, as not to thinke that this last pro­position might not by demon­stration bee comprehended: wherefore I desired to have o­ther things as cleerely demon­strated as this; whether (name­ly) those things should bee cor­poreall, which were not present before my senses; or spirituall, whereof I knew not yet how to conceive, but after a corporeall manner. But by beleeving might I have beene cured, that so the eye-sight of my soule being cleered, might some way or o­ther have beene directed toward thy truth, which is the same e­ternally, and in no point fayling. But as it happens usually to him that having had experience of a bad Physician, is fearefull after­wards [Page 284] to trust himselfe with a good: so was it with the state of my soule, which could no waies be healed The other Translator notes upon it, That the way of knowing in Religi­on, is by first belee­ving. True; but not Im­plicite Po­pish Faith, (which be meanes) to beleeve [...] the Church of Rome beleeves. Saint Augustine meant not such a Faith. but by belee­ving; and left it should beleeve falshoods, it refused to be cured: resisting in the meane time thy hands, who hast prepared for us the Medicines of faith, and hast applyed them to the diseases of the whole world, and given un­to them Et tantam illis authoritatem tribuisti. This the other Translator maliciously miscenstrues, with a purpose to weaken the Authority of the Holy Scriptures, the Medicines of Faith here spoken of: Turning the words, And recommended them to mankind by so great Authority: As if all the Authority were in Gods recom­mending, and none else in the Scriptures. Fye upon it. so great Authority.

CHAP. 5. Of the Authority and necessary vse of the holy Bible.

1. FRom henceforth therfore I beganne first of all to [Page 285] esteeme better of the Cathe­ [...] Doctrine, and also to thinke that [...]e. did with more modesty, and without any de­ceit, command many things to be beleeved, notwithstanding it were not there demonstrated, [...] what it should be, or to Here I suspect S. Augustins Copie to be imperfect; but tis not much mate­riall. what purpose it should serve, nor yet what it should not bee; than in the Manichees doctrine, upon a rash promise of great knowledge, expose my easinesse of beliefe first of all unto derisi­on, and suffer afterwards so ma­ny most fabulous and absurd things to be therefore imposed upon me to beleeve, because they could not be demonstrated. Next of all, thou Lord, by little and little, with a gentle and most mercifull hand, working and rectifying my heart; even while I tooke into my consideration how innumerable things I o­therwise beleeved, which I had never scene, nor was present at [Page 286] while they were in doing: like as those many reports in the Hi­story of severall Nations, those many relations of places and of Cities, which I had never seene: so many reports likewise of friends, so many of Physicians, so many of these and these men, which unlesse wee should be­leeve, we should doe nothing at all in this life: Last of all, I con­sidered, with how unalterable an assurance I beleeved, of what parents I was descended; which I could not otherwise come to know, had I not beleeved it up­on heare-say: perswadedst mee at last, that not they who belee­ved thy Bible, (which with so great authority Here the Authority by which the Scriptures be settled, is ori­ginally attri­buted to God him­selfe, and not to the Church as the Topish Translator would haue it. See our note upon lib. 7. cap. 7. thou hast setled almost among all Nations) but those who beleeved it not, were to bee blamed: nor were those men to bee listned unto, who would say perchance, How knowest thou those Scriptures to have beene imparted unto man­kinde, [Page 287] by the spirit of the onely true, and most true God? seeing this fundamentall point was a­bove all the rest to be beleeved; and that because no wrangles of all those cavilling Questions, whereof I had read so many controverted amongst the Phi­losophers, could so farre enforce me, as that I should at any time not beleeve Thee to bee whatso­ver thou wert, (though what, I knew not) or that the govern­ment of human businesses should not belong unto thee. Thus much though I sometimes be­leeved more strongly, and more weakly other-whiles, yet I ever beleeved: both that thou wert God, and hadst a care of us, though I were utterly ignorant, either what was to be thought of thy substance, or what way led or brought backe againe to­wards thee.

3. Seeing therefore mankind would prove too weake to find [Page 288] out the truth, by the way of evident Reason; and even for this cause was there need of the Authority of Holy Writ: I be­gan now to beleeve, that thou wouldest by no meanes have e­stated such excellency Here again the Popish Translator notes in his Margent, The Au­thority of the Church: whereas S. Augustine speakes of the authority of the Scrip­tures. Wil­full Sophi­stry. of au­thority upon that Booke all the world over, had it not beene thy expresse pleasure, to have thine owne selfe both beleeved in by meanes of it, and sought by it al­so. For those absurdities which in those Scriptures were went heretofore to offend me, after I had heard divers of them ex­pounded probably, I referred now to the depth of the mystery: yea, and the Authority of that Booke appeared so much the more venerable, and so much the more Marke this, ye Pa­pists. 1. What high termes hee gives the Scriptures: whereas you call them A nose of Way, a shipmans Hose, &c. 2. Here's li­berty for all to read them; you looke them under an un­knowne tongue, from the Laytie. 3. Here are they said it be plaine; but you fray the people with their difficulty pro­foundnesse, and danger. worthy of our religious [Page 289] credit, by how much the readi­er at hand it was for ALL to read upon, preserving yet the Majesty of the Secret, under the profoundnes of the meaning, offering it selfe unto ALL in words most open, and in a stile of speaking most humble, and exercising the intention of such as are not light of heart; that it might by that meanes receive ALL into its common bosome, and through narrow passages, waft over some few towards thee: yet are these few a good many moe than they would have beene, had it not obtained the eminency of such high au­thority, nor allu [...]ed on those companies with a bosome of holy humility. These things then I thought upon, and thou wert with me: I sighed, & thou heardst me: I wavered up and down, and thou didst guide me; I wandred through the broad way of this world, yet didst thou not forsake me.

CHAP. 6. The misery of the Ambitious: shewne by the example of a Beggar.

1. I Gaped after Honours, gaines, wedlocke; and thou laughedst at me. In these desires of mine I underwent most bitter hardships: wherein thou wert so much the more gracious unto me, as thou didst lesse suffer any thing to grow sweet unto mee, which was not thou thy selfe. Behold now my heart, O Lord, who wouldst I should remem­ber all this, that I might now confesse it unto thee. Let now my soule cleave fast unto thee, which thou hast freed from that fast-holding birdlime of death. How wretched was it at that time! it had utterly lost the sense of its owne wound; but th [...] didst launce it, that forsaking [...] [Page 291] other things, it might be conver­ted unto thee, who art above all, and without whom all things would turne to nothing; that it might (I say) be converted, and be healed. How miserable ther­fore was I at that time! and how didst thou deale with mee, to make me sensible of my misery! that same day namely, when I provided my selfe for an Orati­on in praise of the Emperour, wherein I was to deliver many an untruth, and to be applauded notwithstanding, even by those that knew I did so. Whilest my heart panted after these cares, and boyled againe with the fa­vourishnesse of these consuming thoughts; walking along one of the streets of Millan, I observed a poore beggar-man (halfe drunke I beleeve) very jocund and pleasant upon the matter: but I looking mournfully at it, fell to discourse with my friends then in company with me, about [Page 292] the many sorrowes occasioned by our owne madnesse; for that by all such endevours of ours, (under which I then laboured, and galled by the spurres of de­sire, dragd after me the burthen of mine owne infelicity, increa­sing it by the dragging) we had minde of nothing but how to at­taine some kinde of Iocundnesse, whither that beggar-man had arrived before us, who should never perchance come at all thi­ther. For that which he had at­tained unto by meanes of a few pence, (and those beg'd too) the same was I now plotting for, by many a troublesome turning and winding; namely to com­passe the joy of a temporary fe­licity.

2. For that beggar-man ve­rily enjoy'd no true joy; but yet [...] those my ambitious de­signes, hunted after a much un­certainer. And certainely that fellow was jocund, but I per­plexed; [Page 293] he void of care, I full of feares. But should any man de­mand of me, whether I had ra­ther be merry or fearefull? I would answer, merry. Againe, were I askt, whether I had ra­ther be in that beggar-mans case, or in mine owne at that time? I would make choice of my own, though thus overgone with cares and feares; yet was this upon a wilfulnesse; for was it out of a­ny true reason? For I ought not to preferre my selfe before that beggar, because I was more lear­ned than he, seeing my Learning was not it that made me joyfull: but I sought rather to please men by it; not so much to instruct them, as meerely to delight them. For this cause didst thou even breake my bones with the staffe of thy correction. Away with those therefore from my soule, who say unto it; There is much difference The for­mer Trans­lator twice turnes this phrase from S. Austens purpose. betwixt the occasions of a mans rejoycing.

[Page 294] 3. That beggar-man rejoyced in his drunkennesse; thou desi­redst to rejoyce in a purchased glory. What glory, Lord? That which is not in thee. For even as his was no true joy, no more was mine any true glory: be­sides which, it utterly overtur­ned my soule. He was that night to digest his drunkennesse; but many a might had I slept with mine, and had risen againe with it, and was to sleepe againe, and againe to rise with it, I know not how often. But is there indeed any difference in the grounds of a mans rejoycing? I know there is, and that the joy of a faithfull hope is incomparably beyond such a vanity. Yea, and at that very time was there much diffe­rence betwixt him and I: for he verily was the happier man; not onely for that he was throughly drencht in mirth, when as my bowels were grip't with cares: but also for that by his lusty [Page 295] Some Co­pies reade it optando, alluding to the beggars praying for his good ma­sters: But the last read it potan­do, as I doe. bowsing, hee had gotten good store of Wine; whereas I, by a slattering Oration, sought after [...] puffe of pride. Much to this purpose said I at that time to my deare Companions: and I markt by them how it fared with me; and I found my selfe in an ill taking. I griev'd for it, by which I doubled my ill ta­king: and when any prosperity smiled upon mee, it irkt mee to catch at it; for that almost be­fore I could lay hand upon it, away it flew from me.

CHAP. 7. He disswades Alipius from his excessive delight in the These were Cha­riot-races, &c. Cir­censian games.

1. WE joyntly bemoa­ned our selves for this, who lived like friends to­gether; but chiefly and most fa­miliarly did I speake hereof [Page 296] with Alipius and Nebridius: of whom Alipius was borne in the same Towne with me, whose parents were of the chiefe ranke there, and himselfe yonger than I; he had also studied under me, first, when I set up Schoole in our owne Towne, and at Car­thage afterwards. He loved me very much, because I seemed of a good disposition to him, and well learned: and I loved him againe, for his great towardlines to vertue, which was eminent enough for one of no greater yeer [...]. But that Whirlepit of th [...] [...] thaginian fashions, (amongst whom those idler spe­ctacles are hotly followed) had already swallowed up him in immoderate delight of the Cir­censian sports. But meane while that he was miserably-tumbled up and downe that way, and I professing Rhetoricke there, had set up a publike Schoole; he made no use of me as his Master, by [Page 297] reason of some unkindnesse risen betwixt his Father and me. Al­though therefore I had found how dangerously he doted upon the Race-place, and that I were grievously perplexed, that hee tooke the course to undoe so good a hope as was conceived of him, or rather as me thought he had already undone it: yet had I no meanes, either private­ly to advise him, or by way of constraint to reclaime him, by interest of a friendship, or the awe of a Master. For I supposed verily, that he had had the same opinion of me with his Father; but he was not of that minde. Loying aside therefore his Fa­thers Quarell, hee beganne to salute me, comming sometimes into my Schoole, heare a little, and bee gone. By this meanes forgate I to deale with him, that he should not for a blinde and headstrong desire of such vaine pastimes, undoe so good a wit.

[Page 298] 2. But thou, O Lord, thou who sittest at the sterne of all thou hast created, hadst not for­gotten him, who was one day to prove a chiefe Priest of thy Sa­craments. And that his amend­ment might plainely be attribu­ted to thy selfe, thou truely broughtest it about by my meanes, who yet knew nothing of it. For when as one day I sate in my accustomed place, with my schollers before me, in came he, saluted me, sate him downe, and applyed his minde to what I then handled. I had by chance a passage then in hand, which that I might the better illustrate, it seemed very seasona­ble to me to make use of a simi­litude borrowed from the Cir­censian races; both to make that which I infinuated more pleasant and more plaine, and to give a biting quippe with­all, at those whom that madnes had enthralled. God thou know­est, [Page 299] that I little thought at that time of curing Alipius of that pessilence. But hee tooke it to himselfe; and conceived that I meerely intended it towards him. And what another man would have made an occasion of being angry with mee, that good yong man made a reason of being offended at himselfe, and to love me the more fervent­ly. For thou hadst said it long agoe, and put it into thy Booke, Ribuke a wise man, and he will love thee. Prov. 9. 8.

3. But for my part, I meant no rebuke towards him; but 'tis thou who makest use of all men, both knowing or not knowing, in that order which thy selfe knowest, and that order is just. Out of my heart and tongue thou wrought'st burning coales, by which thou mightest set on fire that languishing disposition of his, of which so good hopes had been conceived, and mightst [Page 300] cure it. Let such a one conceale thy praises, who considers not of thy mercies, which my very marrow confesses unto thee. For he upon that speech, heav'd him­selfe out of that pit so deepe, wherein he had wilfully beene plunged, and had beene hood winkt with the wretched pas­time of it; and rowzed up his minde with a well-resolved mo­derntion; whereupon all those filths of the Circensian pastimes slew off from him, nor came he ever at them afterwards. Vpon this, prevailed he with his un­willing Father, that he might be one of my Schollers. Hee yeel­ded and condescended: so that Alipius beginning to bee my Auditor againe, was bemussled in the same superstitiō with me, loving that ostentation of conti­nency in the Manichees, which he supposed to be true and un­seined. But verily no better it was than a senselesse and a sedu­cing [Page 301] continency, insnaring pre­cious soules, not able yet to reach to the height of vertue, and easie to be beguiled with a faire out­side, of that which was but a wel-shadowed & a feined vertue.

CHAP. 8. Alipius is taken with a delight of the Sword-plaies, These gla­diators or Fencers, were main­tained by great men: who to please the people, would often exhibite thē upon the Stage, to fight at sharpe, in good car­nest for their lives: be be­ing accoun­ted the bra­vest fellow, that look his wounds or death with least shrin­king. which before he hated.

1. HEe not forsaking that worldly course which his parents had charm'd him to pursue, went before me to Rome, to study the Laws, where he was carried away with an incredible greedinesse of seeing the Sword-players. For being utterly against and detesting such spectacles, when he was one day by chance met withall by divers of his ac­quaintance and fellow students comming from dinner, they with a familiar kinde of violence, ha­led him (vehemently denying and resisting them) along into [Page 302] the The Stage. Amphitheater, on a time when these cruell and deadly shewes were exhibited; he thus protesting: Though you hale my body to that place, and there set me, can you after that force me to give my minde, and lend my eyes to these shewes? I shall therefore be absent even while I am present, and so shall I over­come both you and them too. His Companions hearing these words, lead him on never the slower, desirous perchance to try, whether he could be as good as his word or no. When they were come thither, and had ta­ken their places as they could, all that Round grew hot with mercilesse Pastimes.

2. But Alipius closing up the doores of his eyes, forbade his minde to range abroad after such mischiefes; and I would he had stopped his eares also. For upon the fall of one in the sight, a mighty cry of the people beating [Page 303] strongly upon him, hee (being overcome by curiosity, and as it were prepared, whatsoever it were, to contemne it with his sight, and to overcome it) ope­ned his eyes, and was strucken with a deeper wound in his soule, than the other was in his body, whom hee desired to be­hold; and he presently fell more miserably than the Sword-play­er did, upō whose fal that migh­ty noise was raised. Which noise entred through his eares, and un­lockt his eyes, to make way for the striking & beating downe of his soule; (which was bold ra­ther than valiant hitherto; and so much the weaker, for that it presumed now on it selfe, which ought onely to have trusted up­on thee:) For so soone as hee saw another mans blood, hee at the very instant drunke downe a kinde of savagenesse: nor did he turne away his head, but fix­ed his eye upon it, drinking up [Page 304] unawares the very Furies them­selves, being much taken with the barbarousnesse of the sword­fight, and even drunke againe with that bloody pastime. Nor was he now the man hee was when he came first thither, but become one of the throug hee came unto; yea, an entire com­panion of theirs that brought him thither. What shall I say more? He lookt on, hee cryed out for company, hee was infla­med with it; carried home such a measure of madnesse, as spur'd him on to come another time: and that not onely in their com­panies who first inticed him, but to runne before them too, yea and hale on others also. Yet out of al this didst thou with a most strong and mercifull hand pluck him notwithstanding, & taugh­test him to repose no more con­fidence in himselfe, but upon thee onely. But this was not till a great while after.

CHAP. 9. Alipius was apprehended for suspicion of thee very.

1. BVt thus much laid he up in his memory for a pre­parative hereafter: as that also which fell out when he was yet my scholler at Carthage: where meditating at noone time once in the Market-place, upon some­thing he was to say by heart (as schollers use to be exercised) thou sufferedst him to be apprehēded by the Officers of the Market­place for a Thiefe. For no other cause, I suppose, didst thou O our God, suffer it, but that hee, who was hereafter to prove so great a man; should now begin to learne that in judging of Causes, no man was not to be condēned out of a rash credulity. For as he was walking by himselfe before the place of Iudgement, with his no­ting-tables and his pen, behold, a yong man of the number of the [Page 306] Lawyers Quidam Scholasti­corum. No word hath more altered the signifi­catiō: But in those daies, and ancienter, it signified a Lawyer or Advocate. So in the Councell of Sardica, Can. 10. vel ex foro Schola­sticus, a Lawyer from the Court or Barre. The Greeke word is the same with the Latine. Then came it to be gi­ven to Rhetoricians, then to Poets, (as Prudentius was called Hispaniarum Scholasticus:) Physitians, Musicians, any professor of the liberall Sciences, were so stiled. He that first made the Canon for the Cōmuni­on, was called Iohannes Scholasticus. 'Tis now settled upon the Schoolemen, but most anciently the Lawyers had it. (who was the right Thiefe indeed) privily bringing a Hatchet with him (Alipius never perceiving him) gate in as far as the leaden Cancellos. This was the ancient sence or or­nament for Courts of Iustice. Hence the Iudge came to bee called Cancellarius, and the Court, The Chancery. Chancels being thus parted from the Churches, hence had their name also. grate-works, w ^ch look down into the Vico Argentario. This could be no street of silver smiths, or Silver-street, as the former Translator turnes it, (for what need he breake into a street that way? he might easily come in.) But the wary Ancients had their Courts of Iustice, their Exchequer and Mint-house all together oftentimes, and all in their Forum or publike Market-place. There stood Saturnes Temple at Rome, which was their Exchequer and Mint-house: This Saturnes Temple was in the Market-place: there were also their Courts of Iustice: so was it at Millan belike; and therfore had their Forum its Aedituos, Officers, or Watchmen, as before he said. Mint-house, [Page 307] and began to chop in sun­der the Lead. But the noise of the Hatchet being heard, the Minters that were underneath, began to mutter, and sent forth to apprehend whom-ever they should finde. But the Thiefe hearing their voices, ranne away, leaving his Hatchet behind him, fearing to be taken with it.

2. Alipius now, who spyed him not when he came in, well perceived him as hee went out, and with what speed hee made away. And being desirous to know what the matter was, went into the place; where fin­ding the Hatchet, hee stood still a while, admiring and conside­ring upon it; when behold, those that were sent, finde him alone with the Hatchet in his hand, startled by the noise whereof they had made thither: they lay hold upon him, hale him away, and gathering the neighbours dwelling in the Market-place a­bout [Page 308] them, they congratulate one another for taking so notorious a Felon, leading him away to the Iustice thereupon. But hither to was Alipius to be instructed. For presently, O Lord, camed thou to the succour of his innocency, whereof thou wert the only wit­nesse. For as he was led along, (either to prison or to execution) there encountred them a certaine Architect, who had the charge of the publike buildings. Glad they were to meet him of all the rest, for that they were used to come to him about suspicion of stolne goods, lost out of the Court or Market-place; that he might take notice at least by whom these kind of cheats were used to be plaid.

3. But that party had divers times seene Alipius at a certaine Senators house, whom he often came to visite; who presently ta­king knowledge of him, tooke him aside by the hand, and pri­vately [Page 309] enquiring the occasion of that mischance, heard the whole carriage of the businesse from him: and wisht all that Rabble (all in an uprore, and threatning of Alipius) to goe along with him. And to the House they came of that yong Lawyer, who had committed the fact: where (behold) there was a Boy be­fore the doore, who was so lit­tle, as having not the wit to feare doing his Master any hurt by it, was likely enough to dis­close the whole matter unto them. For hee had followed his Master to the Market-place. Whom so soone as ever Alipi­us remembred, he told the Ar­chitect of him: and he shewing the Hatchet to the Boy, askt him Whose that was? Ours, (quoth he presently:) and being further questioned upon the matter, hee discovered every thing. Thus was the burgl [...]ry laid up­on the Master of that house, and [Page 310] the rude multitude ashamed, which had already begunne to insult over Alipius, who was hereafter to bee a dispenser of thy Word, and an Examiner of many If the Pri­mitive Clergy med­led with matters of Iustice, they had Saint Pauls Commission, 1 Cor. 6. which Possidonius in the Life of S. Augustine quotes: who shewes how many houres a day Augustine spent this way. He quotes also, 1 Tim. 5. 20. Those that sinne, re­buke before all: And this is a Divine fittest to doe: there belongs more to a Iustice than the making of a Mit­timus. He quotes also Ezek. 3. 17. I have made thee a Watchman: yea, and as if this were a part of the Mi­nisters duty, he applyes that in 2 Tim. 4. 2. Be instant, in season, out of season, reprove, &c. No Antiqua [...]y but knowes that the old Clergie had greater authority in temporall matters, than our Iustices of Peace in England; yet here 'tis boggled at: But 'tis by those that would faine have their Church-lands. Plainely, The Lord Chancellor, Keeper, and Master of the Rolles, the 6 Clerkes, Heraulds, Masters of the Chancery, &c. have heretofore for the most part beene Clergie men, when it was never better with the Land. Tis true, the old Canons forbid them to meddle in cases of blood, and that may they easily avoid. In Gene­va, I hope, the Minister hath more authority than in Eng­land. Causes in thy Church, who went away now, better experienced and instructed, by this accident.

CHAP. 10. Of the great integrity of Alipi­us, and of Nebridius com­ming.

1. THis Alipius therefore I afterwards light upon at Rome; where hee knit in with mee with a most strong Tye; whence hee went with mee to Millan, both that he might not breake company with me, and that hee might withall practise something in the Law hee had applyed himselfe unto: and that to fulfill his parents desire, more than his owne. There went hee thorow the Office of an Asses­sor of Iustice, with an admirable freedome from bribery in re­spect of his other fellowes: hee wondring at others rather, who preferred gold before honesty. His disposition was tempted be­sides, not with a bait of Cove­nesse [Page 312] onely, but with the spurre of feare also. At Rome hee had been Assessor to the Lord Trea­surer Romae assidebat Comiti largitionū Italicarū. The Lord high Trea­surer of the Westerne Empire was called Co­mes sacra­rum la [...]gi­tionum: he had s [...]xe other Trea­surers in so many Pro­vinces, un­der him; whereof he of Italy was one: Vnder whom this Alipius had s [...]me Office of Iudica­ture, something like (though fa [...]re inferiour) to our [...]a­ions of the Exchequer. See Sir Henry [...] Glossary, in the word [...] And [...] l. 5. c. 40. The other Translator [...] Assessor to the Prefect of the Contributioner of Italy. Ill. of Italy.

2. There was at that time a most potent Senator, to whose favours many stood ingaged, whom many also were much a­fraid of. This great man would needs by his usuall power, have a thing passe the Court, which by the Laws was utterly forbiddē. Alipius crost it; a bribe was promised him, hee with all his heart despis'd it: Threats were used, hee trampled them under­foot: all men in the meane time admiring so rare a spirit, which neither desired such a man (so infinitely samed for the innume­rable meanes he had, either to doe a man a good or a shrewd [Page 313] turne) to be his friend, nor feared to have him for his enemy. As for the Iudge himselfe, in whose Court Alipius was a Iustice, although for his owne part hee were unwilling to have it passe, yet did he not openly crosse it, but put the matter off to this Alipius; pretending that by him he was not suffered to doe it: for verily if hee should have offered it, Alipius would have gone off the Bench.

3. With this desire (and that in the way of his learning) was he only tempted; that (namely) he might get himselfe a Library at such under-prizes as the Prae­tors had their Bookes at. But consulting with Iustice, hee al­tered his purpose to the better; esteeming Equity to bee more gainefull, by which he was pro­hibited that course, than Power could be, upon which he might take the liberty. All this hither­to said of him, is but little: but [Page 314] Hee that is faithfull in that Luk. 16. 10 11. 12. which is least, is faithfull also in much. Nor can that possibly be to no purpose spoken, which proceeded out of the mouth of thy Truth. If ye have not beene faithfull in the unrighteous Mamman, who will commit to your trust true riches? And if ye have not beene faithfull in that which is another mans, who shall give you that which is your owne? Such a man as I have described, did at that time adjoyne himselfe unto me; and wavered in his purpose as I did, what course of life was to be ta­ken.

Nebridius also, who having left his native Countrey neere Carthage, yea and Carthage it selfe, where for the most part he lived; leaving his Fathers lands, which were very rich; leaving his owne house, and a Mother behinde, who meant not (like mine) to follow after him; was [Page 315] by this time come to Millan, and for no other reason neither, but that he might bestow him­selfe with me, in a most ardent desire after Truth and Wisdome. Together with mee hee sighed, and with me he wavered; still continuing a most ardent sear­cher after happinesse, and a most acute examiner of the difficultest Questions. Thus were there now gotten together the mouthes of three Beggars, fighing out their wants one to another, and wai­ting upon thee, that thou migh­test Psal. 145. 15. give them their meat in due season. And in much anguish of spirit (which by the disposing of thy mercie, still followed our worldly affaires) looking to­wards the end, why wee should suffer all this, darknesse beelou­ded us: whereupon wee turned away mourning to our selves, saying, How long will things continue at this stay? This wee often said; but in saying so, wee [Page 316] yet forsooke not our errours; for that wee yet discovered no certainty, which when wee had forsaken them, we might betake our selves unto.

CHAP. 11. Hee deliberates what course of life he were best to take.

1. ANd I admired extreme­ly, (pondering earnestly with my selfe, and examining of my memory,) what a deale of time I had consumed since that nine and twentieth yeere of mine age, in which I began first to be inflamed with the study of wis­dome: resolving, that when I had found that, to let passe all those empty hopes, and lying phrenzies of vaine desires. And behold, I was now going of my thirtieth yeere, still sticking in the same clay, still possest with a greedinesse of enjoying things [Page 317] present, they as fast flitting and wasting my soule; I still saying to my selfe, To morrow I shall finde it out, it will appeare very plainely, and I shall understand it: and behold, Faustus the Ma­nichee will come, and cleere e­very thing. O you great men, of the Academikes opinion, who affirme, That no certaine course for the ordering of our lives can possibly be comprehended! Nay, let us rather search the more di­ligently, and not despaire of fin­ding: for behold, those things in the Ecclesiasticall Bookes, are not absurd to us now, which sometimes seemed so: for they may be otherwise, yea and that honestly understood. I will hence-forth pitch my foot upon that step, on which (being yet a child) my parents placed mee, untill such time as the cleere Truth may be found out.

2. But where-abouts shall it be sought for? When shall it [Page 318] be sought for? Ambrose is not at leasure, nor have we our selves any spare time to reade. But where shall we finde the Books to reade on? Whence, or when can we procure them, or from whom borrow them? Let set times be appointed, and certaine houres distributed for the health of our soules. We now begin to conceive great hopes; The Ca­tholike Faith teaches not what we thought it had, whereof we vainely accused it: The learned men of that Faith, hold it for a detestable opinion, to beleeve God to be comprehended under the figure of our humane body: and do we doubt to knocke, that the other mysteries may be also opened unto us? All the fore­noones our schollers take up, what shall we doe the rest of the day? Why goe wee not about this? But when Here's an obiection of flesh and blood against the motions of Gods Spirit. then shall we visite our greater friends, of whose favours we stand in need? [Page 319] What time shall wee have to compose some discourses to sell to Schollers? When shall wee recreate our selves, and unbend our mindes from those cares they are too earnest upon? Let all these thoughts perish, let us give over these vaine and empty fancies, and betake our selves solely to search out the Truth. Life is miserable; Death uncer­taine; if it steales upon us on the sudden, in what case shall wee goe out of the world? & where shall we then learne, what wee have here neglected? Or rather, shall we not there suffer the due punishment of our negligence? If it be objected, That Death will quite cut off both care and sense of all these things, and there's an end of them. Rather let that bee first inquired into. But God forbid that we should be of that mind. It is not for no purpose, 'tis no idle toy, that so eminent a heighth of autho­rity [Page 320] which the Christian Faith hath, is diffused all the world over. Should then such and so great blessings be by the divine providence wrought for us, if so be that together with the death of the body, the life of the soule should bee brought to nothing also? Wherefore then delay we time any longer, that giving o­ver our hopes of this world, we might give up our selves wholly to seek after God & a happy life.

3. But stay a while: Another Obiection of flesh and blood. Even these worldly things are sweet, and they have some (and that no small) pleasure. We are not too lightly to divorce our pur­poses from them, for that it were a foule shame to make love againe to them. See, 'tis no such great matter to obtain some Office of honour; and what should a man desire more in this world? We have store of po­tent friends, though we had no­thing else; let us put our selves [Page 321] forward, some place of prefer­ment or other may be bestowed upon us: or a Wife at least may be had with a good portion, to ease our charges: and this shalbe the full point of our desires. Ma­ny great persons, and those wor­thy of our imitation, have addi­cted themselves to the study of wisdome in the state of mariage.

4. Whilest these things wee discoursed of, and these winds of uncontainties changed up and downe, and drove my heart this way and that way; the time still passed on, but I was slow to bee converted to my Lord God; and from one day to another I defer­red to live in thee, but deferred not daily to dye within my selfe. Being thus in love with an happy life, yet feared I to finde it in its proper place, and fleeing from it, I sought after it. I thought I should be too mise­rable, should I bee debarred of the imbracements of a Woman: [Page 322] as for that medicine of thy mer­cie which should cure that infir­mity, I never thought of it; and all because I had no experience of it. As for continency, I sup­posed it to bee in the liberty of our owne Why then doe the Pa­pists in­force so ma­ny young Maids and men to vow; as if it were in their own power? And why suffer they those to keepe the habite and place of Chastity, when as their Visi­tor knowes they have broken the Vow of Chastity? power; (of which I for my part was not guilty) be­ing so foolish withall, that I knew it not to be written, Mat. 19. 11. That no man can preserve his chastity unlesse thou give it. And that thou verily wouldest give it, if with cordiall gronings I did knocke at thine eares, and with a settled faith did cast my cares upon thee.

CHAP. 12. A Contention betwixt Alipius and Augustine, about Mar­riage and single life.

ALipius indeede was the man that kept mee from marrying of a Wife; alledging, [Page 323] That by no meanes could wee enjoy so much undistracted lea­sure as to live together in the love of Wisedome (as wee long since had desired) should I take that course. For he himselfe was so chaste that way, that it was a wonder to see: for he had made tryall of that Act in the begin­ning of his youth; but having not ingaged himselfe by it, hee was sorry for it rather, and de­spised it; living from that time untill this present, most conti­nently. For my part, I opposed him with the examples of such men, as in the state of Matrimo­nie had professed wisedome, and were Prome­ruissent Deum: Which the Popish Translator turnes, And were gratefull unto God. Very well; gratefull, that is ac­ceptable. Seeing then promerita is but acceptablenesse, why should merita (the single word) have so sawcie a signification in Popish doctrine, as merits? Let them mince the matter with Logike how they can, (by their distinction of condignity and congruity of merits) sure they are gone by the Lawes of Grammar; which admits no such signification of promereo, or of merita, unlesse perchance our Dictionaries have the word Merits, not in the genuine signification, but to learne us to understand what the Papists meane by it. acceptable unto God, and conversed faithfully and loving­ly [Page 324] with their acquaintances: of the greatnesse of whose spirit I was far enough short. Thus I, delighted with the disease of the flesh, and with the deadly sweet­nesse of it, drew my shackles a­long with me, much afraid to have them knockt off: and as if my wound had been too hard rub'd by it, I put backe his good perswasions, as it were the hand of one that would unchaine me.

2. Moreover, even by mee did the Serpent speake unto A­lipius, preparing and laying by my tongue, most pleasurable snares in his way, in which his honest and yet free feet, might be intangled. For when as hee much admired at me, (whom he slightly esteemed not of) for sticking so fast in the birdlime of that pleasure, as resolute­ly to affirme, (so oft as wee had speech about it) that I could by no meanes lead a single life: and that I used this for an argument, [Page 325] (when I saw him so much won­der at the matter;) That there was a great deale of difference betwixt the pleasure which hee had tryed by stealth and snat­ches, (which he scarce now re­membred, and might easily therefore despise) and the de­lights of my daily lying at it; unto which might but the ho­nest name of Marriage be ad­ded, he would not wonder then, why I had not the power to contemne that course of living: even he beganne to desire to be married; not as if overcome with the lust of so poore a plea­sure, as all out of a curiosity: for hee desired, as hee said, to know what manner of content that should be, without which my life (which was to him so great contentment) seemed not a life so much, as a punishment unto me.

3. For his mind, that was free as yet from that clogge, stood [Page 326] amazed at my thraldome; and out of that amazement, hee pro­ceeded to an itch of trying: like­ly enough to have come to the experience of it, and from the bare experience, to fall per­chance into that bondage hee in me so much admired at; seeing he was so willing to enter into a Covenant with death: for He that loves danger, shall fall into it. For the conjugall honour (if any there be) in the office of well ordering the duties of a married life, and of having of children, moved us but little. But that which for the most part did most violently afflict me, (alrea­dy made a slave to it) was the custome of satisfying an insatia­ble lust; but him, that was here­after to be inslaved, did an ad­miration skrew up to it. In this case we continued, untill thou, O most high, not forsaking our lowlinesse, having compassion of us that stood in neede of it, [Page 327] didst at length fetch us off, by admirable and secret devices.

CHAP. 13. Augustine layes out for a Wife.

1. AND much adoe there was to get mee a Wife: Now went I a wooing, and then was the Wench promised mee: my Mother taking most paines to beat the bargaine: her pur­pose in it being, that when I were married once, See what we have be­fore noted, pag. 36. in the mar­gent. the whol­some water of Baptisme might cleanse me, (towards which she much rejoyced to see mee daily fitting my selfe;) observing, that all her owne desires, and thy promises, were to be fulfilled in my imbracing of the Faith. At which time verily, both by mine owne intreaties, and her desires (and that with strong cryes of our hearts) did we daily begge of thee, that thou wouldest [Page 328] vouchsafe by some vision to dis­cover something unto her con­cerning my future marriage, but thou wouldest never doe it.

2. Yet saw shee indeed cer­taine vaine and phantasticall o­vertures, such as the earnestnesse of her spirit, so busied about this matter, drew together. These she told me of; not yet with that confidence she was wont, when thy selfe afforded any vi­sions unto her, but slighting them, as it were. For she could, as she said (through I know not what relish she had, which in words she could not expresse) easily enough discern how much difference there was betwixt thy Revelations, and the dreames of her owne spirit. Yet went wee forward earnestly, and the pa­rents good-will was asked; but the Maid wanted two yeeres of being marriageable. Yet, for that I had a good liking to her, I was content to stay so long for her.

CHAP. 14. A new Plot laid and broken.

1. AND wee were many friends of us, which de­bated of the matter; who con­ferring about the detesting these turbulent molestations of a worldly life, had now resolved, that sequestring our selves from company, to live retiredly: and to lay this ground for our re­tirememt, that what stocke eve­ry man was able to make, wee should put together, and make one houshold of al: that through the plaine-dealing of a common friendship, one thing should not be this mans, and another thing that mans; but what stocke should be made up out of every mans particular, should in the whole belong unto the interest of every single person, and all together, unto all in generall. [Page 330] It seemed to us, that there might neere be some ten persons in this kinde of Academy: some of which were very rich men; and Romanianus especially, our Townes-man (from his Childe­hood a very familiar friend of mine) whom the hot pursuit of his businesse had brought up to Quem tunc gra­ves aestus negotiorū suorum ad Comitatū attraxe­rant. This the for­mer Translator turnes, That place of our residence. The man had ill lucke to misse at every hard place. He helpe him. Comitatus was like the place where our Termes be kept: the Imperiall Chamber at Spires in Germany, may rightly be called Comitatus: The Emperours appointed it in any good Towne where they pleased, though themselves were not there: and at this time (for these parts) it was at Millan. So plainely sayes Possidonius in the life of Saint Augustine. Comita­tus is the place whither subiects repaire for the dispateh of such businesse, as depends upon the Kings Courts of Iu­stice. London is our Comitatus, the Kings Cham­ber, for the South; Yorke for the North. This word is familiar to the Civill Lawyers. See the eighth and ninth Canons of the Councell of Sardica. Court: who was most earnest of all the rest for this project: and therin was his voice of great authority, and that because his estate was much fairer than any of the rest.

[Page 331] 2. And we had set it downe, that two Officers should bee yeerely chosen, for the making of necessary provisions, whilest the rest were quiet. But so soone as we beganne to consider better of it, whether our Wives, (which some of us already had, and o­thers resolved to have shortly) would endure all this, or no? all that so well laid plot fell to pee­ces in our hands, was utterly dasht and cast aside. Thence re­turn'd we again to our old sigh­ings, and gronings, and wan­drings, and to our former follo­wing those broad and beaten Mat. 7. 13. wayes of the world: for that many thoughts were in our heart, but thy counsaile standeth Psal. 33. 11 for ever. Out of which coun­saile didst thou deride ours, and laid the ground-worke for thine owne; purposing to give us Psal. 145. meat in due season, and to open thy hand, and to fill our soules with thy blessing.

CHAP. 15. His old Concubine goes away from him, and he gets another.

1. MY sinnes in the meane time were multiplyed, and that Mistris of mine which was wont to be my bedfellow, (the hinderer as it were of my marriage) being pluckt away from my side, my heart cleaving unto her, was broken by this meanes, and wounded, yea and blood drawne of it. Home a­gaine went shee into Affrike, (vowing vnto A Vow of Chasti­ty, sayes the Popish Trās­lator; and a goodly one too: How many such Nuns hath the Church of Rome, that then vow chasti­ty, whē they are satisfied with lust? But well it were they had no worse Nunnes, than such as vow upon remorse of conscience, as this whoore did. But this was a private Vow yet, (which God knowes how long she kept) and no formall Nunnery Vow; she carried not her portion into the Nunnery with her. Money is of the substance of the Nunnes Vow now-a dayes, Chastity is but a formali­ty. She vowes, not to know a man; but her money does not so; the Friers may know that. The Primitives admitted no Nunnes but pure Virgins: and if ever it could be proved, she had plaid false before her Admis­sion, she was canonically to be put out of the House. A­ny crackt Chamber-maid will make as good a Nunne as the best now-a daies. Could Nunnes keepe their Vow, I would never speake against their Order. thee never to [Page 333] know man more) leaving a Ba­stard sonne with mee, which I had begotten of her. But unhap­py I, who had not the heart to imitate a Woman, impatient now of all delay, as if it were too long yeeres before I was to enjoy her whō I went a wooing to, (being not so much a lover of wedlock, as a slave to lust) quickly procu­red another (though not a Wife) by whō that disease of my soule might be nursed up, and kept a­live, either as vigorous as it was, or more fierce upon it; and that as it were by the assistance of my naughty custome, continued frō thence forward, till my advance­ment into the kingdome of mar­riage; nor was that wound of mine as yet cured, which had bin made by the cutting a way of my former Concubine; but after a most eager burning and anguish it festered: and still it pained me, though after a more dull, yet af­ter a more desperate manner.

CHAP. 16. Of the immortality of the soule.

1. PRaise be unto thee, glory be unto thee, O Fountain of mercies. I became more mi­serable, and thou neerer unto me. Thy right hand was ready by and by to plucke me out of the mire, and to wash mee throughly, but I knew not yet of it: nor did any thing call mee backe from that deeper gulfe of carnall pleasures, but onely the feare of death, and of thy judge­ment to come; which, although divers opinions I conceived of it, yet never went it utterly out of my breast. I disputed in those dayes with my friends Alipius and Nebridius, concerning The ends of Good and Evill: deter­mining, that Epicurus in my judgement should have worne the Garland, had I not verily [Page 335] beleeved that there remained a life for the soule after the body was dead; and those Et tra­ctus meri­torum. This the Po­pish Trans­lator turnes, And that which Merits do import. Meere non sense. And notes in his margent, Merits. As if the place made for Popish me­rits. Dough­tily proved! as if Augu­stine, who was yet no Divine knew any thing of the Doctrine of Merits. Hee ta [...]k [...] before of the last Iudgement, and here he talkes of the places of punishment or reward, which Epicurus Phi­losophy knew nothing of. If he pleases to looke his Dictic­nary, he shall finde Tractus to signifie a Region or Countrey. He alludes to other Philosophers belee­ving of the severall Regions of Hell and Elysium, which were both under the earth, but distinguisht into severall Quarters or Regions. Tractus is the Accusative case plurall. Regions where severall deservings were rewarded, which Epicurus would not beleeve.

2. And I put the question, That suppose we were to be im­mortall, and were to live in per­petuall enjoyment of bodily pleasure, and that without feare of losing, why should wee not thē be fully happy, & wherfore should we seeke for any other thing? Little knowing that even this very thing was a part of my great misery, that being thus drowned and blinded, I could [Page 336] not discern that light of honesty and of beauty, (to bee imbra­ced for its owne sake) which the eye of the flesh cannot kenne, it being onely by the inner man to be discerned. Nor did I consider, wretch that I was, out of what veine it flow­ed, that even these conceipts, (filthy ones as they were) I with such pleasure conferred of with my friends, (according to the o­pinion I then was of) how great abundance soever of carnall pleasures beside, I enjoyed. Which friends verily I loved for their own sakes, and I found my selfe to be in like manner be­loved of them againe.

3. Out upon these intricate wayes! Woe unto that and a­cious soule of mine, which ho­ped, that had it forsaken thee, it should have had some better thing! Turned it hath, and tur­ned againe, upon backe, sides, and belly, yet found all places [Page 337] to be hard; and that thou art her Rest only. And behold, thou art neere at hand; and from our wretched errours thou delive­redst us, and settledst us in thine owne way, and doest comfort, and say thus unto us: Runne on, I will carry you: yea, I will bring you to your jour­nies end, and there also will I car­ry you.

CHAP. 1. How rejecting corporeall Ima­ges, he began to know God to be incorporeall.

BY this time was that wicked and abominable time of my Youth dead, and I went on into a more solid Age: by how much the elder in yeeres, so much the fouler in vanity, [Page 339] who could not imagine any o­ther kinde of substance, than what I saw with these eyes. Yet thought I not thee, O God, to be comprehended under the fi­gure of an humane body; since the time I beganne to heare any thing of Wisedome, I alwaies a­voided that: and I rejoyced to have found thus much in the faith of our spirituall Mother, thy Catholike Church. But what else I should thinke thee to be, I knew not. And I being but a man, (and so meane a man too) yet set I my selfe to beleeve thee to be the soveraigne and onely­true God: and that thou wert in­corruptible, and inviolable, and unchangeable, with all the pow­ers of my soule did I beleeve: because not knowing how nor which way, yet most plainely did I behold, and very sure I was, That that which may bee corrupted, must needs be worse than that which cannot be cor­rupted; [Page 340] and that which cannot be violated, did I without any sticking at, preferre before that which was subject to be viola­ted: and that which suffers no alteration, I judged to be much better than that which may suf­fer alteration.

2. My heart passionately cry­ed out upon all my former phantasmes; and with one blow I laid about mee, to beat away all that sluttering troope of uncleane fancies, from the eye of my mind. And loe, being yet scarce put off by the space of the twinckling of an eye, they came in multitudes again about me, they pressed upon my sight, and so beelouded it, that though I thought thee not to be of the shape of a humane body, yet was I constrained to imagine thee to be some corporeall sub­stance, taking up vast spaces of place: and that, either infusea into this world, or else diffuse [...] [Page 341] infinitely without it: yea, even of that incorruptible, and invi­olable, and unchangeable, which I preferred before corruptible, and violable, and changeable, did I imagine thus. Because, that whatsoever I deprived of these spaces, seemed to bee no­thing unto me; yea altogether nothing, not so much as an em­ptinesse verily: just as if a body were taken out of it's place, and the place should remaine empty of any body at all, either earth­ly, or watery, or ayery and hea­venly; but should remaine a void place, as it were a spacious nothing.

3. I therefore being thus grosse-hearted, not conspicuous so much as to my very selfe; whatsoever was not stretched out over certaine spaces, nor dif­fused abroad, nor amassed up into bulke, nor swelled into bredth, or which did not or could not receive some of these dimensions, [Page 342] I thought to be a just nothing: For such formes as my eyes were wont to range over, even such like Images did my heart now rove after: nor did I yet observe that very This Phi­losophical word, the former Translator turnes, This Action of my minde. Short of the sense. Saint Augustine alludes to that in Phi­losophy, That all na­turall bodies to make thē ­selves per­ceived by the sense, doe send and beame out from them, some figure, Image, &c. by which the sense may app [...] ­hend them: which figure or shape striking upon the sense, provokes it, and so makes it take actuall notice of us pro­per object. And this spirituall figure representing a re­all object, which these bodies send out; doe the Philo­sophers call their Intention. So that Austens [...] fancying the like Images, he cals it the intention of his minds. Intenti­on of mine, by which I formed those Images, was not any such corporeall substance, which yet could not have formed them, had not it selfe beene some great thing. In like manner did I con­ceive thee, O thou Life of my life, to be some hugie corporeall substance, on every side pier­cing thorow the whole Globe of this world; yea, and diffused every way without it, and that by infinite spaces, though un­bounded. [Page 343] So that the Earth should have thee, the Heaven should have thee, all things should have thee, and that they should be bounded in thee, but thou no where.

4. For as the body of this Ayre which is about the Earth, hindred not the light of the Sun from passing thorow it, which pierceth it, not by bursting or by cutting, but by filling of it: so thought I, that not the body of the Heaven, the Ayre & Sea onely, but of the Earth too, to be at pleasure passable unto thee, yea easie to be pierced by thee in all its greatest and smallest parts, that all might receive thy presence, which by a secret in­spiration, both inwardly and outwardly governeth all things which thou hast created. Thus I suspected; because any other thing I could not thinke of, and yet was this false too. For by this meanes should a greater [Page 344] part of the Earth have contained a larger portion of thee, and the lesse, a lesser: and then should all things in such sort have been full of thee, as that the body of an Elephant should containe so much more of thee than the bo­dy of a Sparrow, by how much that should be bigger than this, and take up more roome by it; by which conceipt shouldest thou make thy parts present un­to the severall parts of the World, by bits, as it were; great gobbets to great parts, lit­tle bits to little parts of the world. But thus thou art not present. But thou hadst not as yet enlightned my darknesse.

CHAP. 2. Nebridius confutes the Mani­chees.

1. IT might have bin enough for me, Lord, to have op­posed against those deceived and deceivers, those dumbe praters, (therefore dumbe, because they founded not forth thy Word:) That question might have serv'd the turne, which long agoe, whiles wee were at Carthage, Nebridius used to propound; at which all we that heard it, were much staggered, namely, What, that I know not which nation of darknesse, which the Manichees were wont to set in opposition a­gainst thee, would have done unto thee, hadst thou beene min­ded to fight with it? For, had they answered, It would have done thee some hurt, thē shouldst thou have bin subject to violence and corruption: but if they an­swered, It could do thee no hurt, [Page 346] then would there have beene no reason brought for thy fighting with it: especially for such a fighting, in which some certaine portion or member of thine, or some off-spring of thy substance should have been mingled with those contrary powers, those natures not created by thee; by whom it should so farre have beene corrupted, and changed to the worse, that it should have beene turned from happinesse in­to misery, and should have stood in neede of some assistance, by which it must both be delivered and purged: and that this The other Tranlator renders it thus: And that this helpe must bee the Soule, which thy Word be­ing free might succour. Succour a helpe? A meere Bull and Non-sense; which utterly loses the force and meaning of the Argument. Off­spring of thy substance was our soule; which, being inthralled, thy Word that was free; and being defiled, thy Word that was pure; and being may med, thy Word that was entire, might every way releeve: and [Page 347] yet that Word it selfe also bee corruptible, because it was the off-spring of one and the same substance.

2. Againe, should they af­firme thee, whatsoever thou art, that is, thy substance, to be in­corruptible; then were all these fancies of theirs most false and execrable. But if they should affirme thee to bee corruptible; even that were most false, and to be abhorred at the first hea­ring. This Argument therefore of Nebridius verily had beene enough against those, who de­served wholly to bee spised out of my over-charged stomake; for that they had no evasion to betake themselves unto, without most horrible blasphemy both of heart and tongue, thinking and speaking of thee in this fa­shion.

CHAP. 3. Free will is the cause of Sinne.

1. BVt I as yet, although I both said and thought most confidently, that thou our Lord God (who madest not on­ly our soules, but our bodies; and not onely both soules and bodies, but Vs all, and all things else beside) wert neither to bee corrupted or altered one way or other, yet understood I not hi­therto, What should be the cause of evill. And yet what-ever it were, I perceived I ought in that sense to inquire after it, that I might not be constrained to be­leeve that the incommutable GOD could be altered by it left my selfe should bee made the thing that I desired to seeke After this therefore I inquired with more security, being very certaine that the Manichees [Page 349] Tenet (whom I dissented from with my whole heart) was no way true: for that I discovered them, whilest they enquired af­ter evill, to be most full of ma­liciousnesse; they thinking that thy substance did rather suffer ill than their owne commit evill. Whereupon I applyed my in­dustrie to understand the truth of what I had heard, how that Free-will Here flyes my Popish Translator out upon Mr. Cal­vine, for teaching Gods De­cree and purpose by with-hol­ding of his Grace, to be the Causes of Sinne and Damnation. Verily Mr. Calvine is wronged that way: But this being an Ar­minian Controversie, I had rather obey His Majesties two Proclamations, and one Declaration, than to be so soole-hardy as to meddle with it. I am neither Calvi­nist nor Arminian, I am of the Religion of the Primi­tive Fathers, which the Church of England professes. should be the cause of our ill-doing; And thy just Iudgement, that we suffered ill. But I was not able cleerely to discerne it.

2. Endevouring therefore to draw the eye of my soule out of that pit, I was againe plunged into it; and endevouring often, I was plunged as often. But this [Page 350] raised me a little up towards thy light, that I now knew as well that I had a Will, as that I had a life: and when therefore I did either will or nill any thing, I was most sure of it, that I did no other thing but will and nill: and there was the Cause of my sinne, as I perceived presently. But what I did against my will, that seemed I to suffer rather, than to doe; That judged I not to be my fault, but my punish­ment; whereby, I holding thee most just, quickly confessed my selfe not to bee unjustly puni­shed.

3. But I objected to my selfe againe: Who made me? Did not my GOD, who is not onely good, but Goodnesse it selfe? Whence then came it that I can both will and nill evill things, that there might be cause found why I should be justly punisht for it? Who was it that set this freedome in me, that ingrafted [Page 351] into my stemme this Cyon of bit­ternesse, seeing I was wholly made up by my most sweet God? If the Divell were the Author, whence is that same Divell? And if he himselfe Here the Popish Translator commits a most negli­gent and grosse mis­take, as if the soule of man had of a pure An­gell, turn'd to a Divell. Saint Au­gustine speakes not of the Soules turning Di­vell, but of him that was once created a good Angell. by his own perverse will, of a good Angell became a Divell, whence then proceeded that perverse will in him, whereby he was made a Divell, seeing that the whole nature of An­gels was made good, by that most good Creator? And by such thoughts as these was I a­gaine cast down and overwhel­med: yet not so farre brought downe was I as the Hell of that Errour, (where no man shall confesse unto thee) namely, that thou shouldst be rather thought to suffer ill, than man to doe ill.

CHAP. 4. God cannot be compelled.

1. IN this sort did I endevour now to finde out the rest, as I had already found, that what was incorruptible, must needs bee better than that which was corruptible: and THEE there­fore, whatsoever thou wert, did I acknowledge to bee in­corruptible. For never yet soule was, nor ever shall bee able to thinke upon any thing which may be better than thou, who art the soveraigne and the best Good. But whereas most truely and certainely, that which is incorruptible, is to be preferred before what is cor­ruptible, (like as I did then preferre it) I might very well have reached so high in my thoughts, as something that should bee better than my God, [Page 353] hadst not thou beene incorrup­tible. Where therefore I saw, that incorruptible ought to bee preferred before corruptible, there ought I to have sought out thee, and there to observe Whence evill should come; that is, even whence corruption comes; by which thy substance can by no meanes be infected.

2. For Corruption does no waies infect our God; by no will, by no necessity, by no unlookt▪ for chance: because he is God, and what he wils, is good; and he himselfe is that Good: but to be corrupted, is not good. Nor all thou, O God, against thy will constrained to any thing, for that thy will is not greater than thy power. But greater should it be, were thy selfe grea­ter than thy selfe. For the Will and Power of God, is God him­selfe. And what chance can sur­prize thee unlookt for, who knowest all things. Nor is [Page 354] there any nature of things, but thou knowest it. And what should wee use more argu­ments to prove, Why that sub­stance which God is, should not be corruptible, seeing if it were so, it should not be God?

CHAP. 5. Hee pursues his enquirie after the root of sinne.

1. AND I sought, Whence Evill should be, and I sought ill: nor did I see that evill which was in this very en­quirie of mine. I set now before the eyes of my spirit, the whole Creation, and whatsoever I could discerne of it; as the Sea, the Earth, the Ayre, the Starres, the Trees, the mortall Creatures; yea and what-ever else in it wee doe not see; as the Firmament of the heaven; all the Angels more­over, and all the spirituall inha­bitants [Page 355] thereof. But yet as if all these had beene bodies, did my fancy dispose of them in such and such places, and I made one great Masse of all thy Creatures, distinguished by their severall kindes of bodies; both those that were Bodies indeed, or which my selfe had feyned in­stead of Spirits. And this Masse I made hugie enough, not yet so great as in it selfe it was, (which I could not come to the knowledge of) but as bigge as I thought convenient, yet every way finite. But thee, O Lord, I imagined on every part enviro­ning and pen [...]trating it, though every way infinite: As if there were supposed to bee a Sea, which every where, and on eve­ry side, by a most unmeasurable infinitenesse, should bee onely a Sea; and that Sea should con­taine in it some hugie Sponge, but yet finite; which Sponge must needs bee every where and [Page 356] on every side filled with that un­measurable Sea: So thought I thy whole Creation to bee in it selfe finite, filled by thee who art infinite; and I said, Behold God, and behold what God hath created; and God is good, yea, most mightily and incom­parably better than all these: which God, being himselfe good, created all them good; and see how he environeth and full-fils them all.

2. Where is Evill then, and from whence, and how crept it in hither? What is the roote, and what the seed of it? Or hath it at all no being? Why then doe wee feare and beware of that which hath no being? Or if we feare it in vaine, then surely is that feare evill, which in vaine so gores and torments the soule. Yea, and so much a greater e­vill, by how much that wants of being any thing, which wee stand in feare of, and yet doe [Page 357] feare. Therefore is there some evill thing which we feare, or else the very act of fearing is evill. Whence is evill therefore? seeing God, who is good, hath created all these things good; that is, the greater and chiefest Good, hath created these lesser goods; yea, and he creating, & they cre­ated, are all good. Whence now is evill? Or, of what did God make it? Was there any matter evill, and as God formed and or­dered it, did he leave any thing in it, which hee did not convert [...] [...]? But why did he so? Was [...] not able so to turne and chan [...]e the whole lumpe, that no evill should have remained in it, seeing he is able to do any thing? Lastly, why would he make a­ny thing at all of that, and did not by the same omnipotency rather cause that there should be no such thing at all? Or, to say troth, was it able to be of it selfe against His will? Or if that [Page 358] evill matter had beene so from eternity, why suffered hee it so to continue so infinite spaces of times past, and was pleased so long while after to make some­thing out of it?

3. Or if hee were suddenly pleased now to goe about some worke, this rather should the Omnipotent have done, have caused (namely) that this evill matter should not at all have beene, and that hee himselfe should have beene alone that so­veraigne and infinite Good [...] Or if it had not beene good [...] who was good, should [...] and create something also that were not good; then, that evill matter being first taken away, and brought unto nothing, should he immediately have ta­ken order for some good matter, whereof hee might create all things. For he should not bee omnipotent, if he were not able to create something that were [Page 359] good of it selfe, unlesse hee were assisted by that matter which himselfe had not created. These thoughts tossed I up and downe in my miserable heart, over­charged with biting Cares, through the feare of death: and though I had not found out the truth, yet did the Faith of thy Christ our Lord and Saviour, professed in thy Church, Here the Popish Translater grossely playes the Papist, pur­posely wre­sting the sense, thus; Yet did the be­liefe of the Catholike Church, concerning thy Christ, sticke fast in me. As if Saint Augustine had held this Po­pish implicite faith, To beleeve as the Church be­leeves, had beene enough. There is much difference be­twixt a mans cleere and explicite knowledge of what he beleeves in Christ, and a blinde implicite beliefe as the Church beleeves, when he knowes not what the Church beleeves. firm­ly continue in my heart, though in divers particulars verily, not yet throughly perfected, and swarving from the right Rule of Doctrine; yet did not my minde utterly leave it off, but every day tooke in more and more of it.

CHAP. 6. Divinations made by the Ma­thematicians, are vaine.

1. BY this time also had I re­jected those deceitfull Divinations, and impious do­tages of the Astrologers. Let thine owne mercies, out of the most inward bowels of my soule, consesse unto thee for this, O my God. For thou, thou al­together (for who else is it that cals us backe from the death of all errours, but even that Life, which knowes not how to dye; and that wisedome which en­lightens those mindes that need it, it selfe needing no light; by which the whole world is go­verned, even to the falling away of the leaves of trees?) thou too­kest order for that stiffe opinion of mine, by which I struggled with Vindicianus, See the 3. Chap. of the 4. Booke. that sharp­sighted [Page 361] old man, and with Ne­bridius that admirable-spirited [...]ong man: the first vehement­ly affirming, and the latter often though with some doubtful­nesse) saying, That there was no Art whereby things to come, might be foreseene: but that [...]ens conjectures had oftentimes the helpe of Fortune; and that [...] talking many things, some­thing to come was oft-times per­ [...]hance for spoken of; the par­ties that spake, little knowing of it; but stumbling now and then upon the right, by their not say­ing nothing.

2. Thou therfore providedst a friendly man for me, and hee [...] consulter with the Astrologers: yet not throughly called in those Arts, but (as I [...]) a curious consulter with [...]; and one that knew some­thing, which hee had heard of his Father, as hee said; which, how farre it might prevaile to [Page 362] overthrow the opinion of that Art, hee knew not. This man therefore, Firminus by name, having beene finely bred, and well taught; asking my advice, as a deare friend of his, concer­ning divers affaires of his owne, which his worldly hopes were big swolne withall; and what I conjectured of him by his Con­stellations, as they call them: and I, who now beganne to in­cline in this particular towards Nebridius opinion, did not, to say troth, refuse to make conje­cture upon it, and to tell him as much as came in my unresolved minde: but told him withall, that I was even almost perswa­ded in my heart, that these were but vaine and ridiculous follies.

3. He thereupon up and, told me, how his Father had beene yet curious after such Bookes, and how he had a friend as ear­nest as himselfe at them, who with joyne study and conference [Page 363] were hot upon these toyes, by the fire of their hearty affecti­ons, insomuch that they would observe even the very minutes of the bringing forth of yong, of those dumbe creatures which they kept about their Houses, and made observations withall of the position of the heavens at those minutes, to the intent to gather experiments of this Art, as it were. Hee said more­over, how he had heard of his Father, that what time as his Mother was big with him the said Firminus, a certaine maid­servant of that friend of his Fa­thers, was big with child also, which her Master could not bee ignorant of, who tooke care with most diligent examination to get knowledge even of the [...]ittering of his very Bitches: And how it so fell out, that when one for his Wife, and the other for his servant, with the carefullest observation, reckoned the daies, [Page 364] yea, the houres; nay, the very least particles of the houres, that both of them were brought to bed at the same instant; inso­much that both of them were constrained to allow the very selfe-same constellations, even to the very same minutes, he for his sonnes birth, and the other for his little servant. For so soone as the women began to fall in labour, they both gave notice to one another of what was falue out in either of their hou­ses, and had messengers ready to send to one another, so soone as they had notice of what was borne, which they could easily procure to have instant notice of, as being in their owne king­dome: and that the messengers sent from one another, met with one another by the way, in such equall distance from either hou­ses, that neither of the Calcula­tors could observe no other po­sition of the Starres or seconds [Page 365] of instances, than the other had done: and yet Firminus borne to a faire fortune in his parents house, ranne his course through the faire wayes of the world, throve well in riches, raised him­selfe to honour: whereas that little servant, not able any way to free himselfe of the yoke of slavery he was borne unto, con­tinued to serve his Masters: as himselfe told the story, who well enough knew him.

4. Vpon the hearing and be­leeving of these things, for that such a man of credite had told them; all that former resolute reluctancy of mine, fell quite to the ground. And first of all I endevoured to reclaime Firmi­nus from that curiosity, by tel­ling him, that for me, upon the inspection of his constellations, to foretell what shall truely happen to him, I ought verily first to have seene in them, how his parents had beene eminent [Page 366] persons among their neighbors, and that be had beene descended of a noble Family in his owne Citie, that hee was free borne, educated like a Gentleman, and very well studied. And if that servant, upon the same constella­tions, which were common to him too, had askt me to tell him his true Fortune; I ought on the other side to have seeue in them, the basenesse of his liuage, the slavishnesse of his condition, and those other particulars so much different, and so farre distant from the other Gentlemans. From, whence therefore it now came to passe, that looking upon the same constellations, I should reade so diverse fortunes, if I should speake the truth; and if I should pronounce the same fortunes, I should lye falsely: thence did I also collect most certainely, That what-ever up­on consideration of these constel­lations was foretold truely, was [Page 367] not spoke out of Art, but chāce: and what-ever was delivered falsely, was not out of the un­skilfulnesse of the Art, but out of the uncertainety of the chance.

5. Being thus entred into the businesse, and thinking with my selfe more seriously upon such like arguments; that no one of those dotards (who lived by such shifts, whom I had an itch even out of hand to cope withall, and with derision to confute) might not hereafter confront me so, as if either Fir­minus had informed me falsely, or his Father him: I bent my consideration upon those that are borne Twinnes, who for the most part come out of the wombe so neere one to another, as that small distance of time betweene them (how much force soever in the nature of things these fellowes avow it to have;) yet is it not posible to [Page 368] make distinct collection of the difference by any observation of man, or to have it at all chara­ctered out in those figures which the Mathematician is to looke into, and pronounce the truth by them. Nor shall they ever tell truth: for then; hee that had lookt upon the same fi­gures, must have told the same Fortunes both of Esau and of Iacob; whereas the same things no wayes happened to them both. Needes therefore must he have conjectured false: or if he had conjectured truely, hee must not have said the same things, whereas he looked upon the same figures. Had he therfore pronounced truely, it should have been by chance, and not by Art. For thou, O Lord most just, the Ruler of this Vniverse, even while they that aske the advice, and those that give it too, know not what they doe, wor­kest by so hidden an instinct, as [Page 369] that whoever asked the Mathe­maticians advice, should heare such an answer as, out of the un­ [...]chable bottome of thy just Iudgement, in respect of the hid­den deservings of the soules, thou thinkest fit for him to heare. To whom, let not man say, What is this? or Why is that? Let him not say so, never let him ask such a questiō, seeing he is but a man.

CHAP. 7. He is miserably tortured in his enquirie after the Root of E­vill.

1. ANd now, O my helper, hadst thou discharged me from those fetters: and pre­sently enquired I whence Evill should be, but found no way out of my question. But thou suffe­redst me not to be carried away from the Faith by any waves of those thoughts; by which [Page 370] Faith I beleeved, both that thou wert, and that thy substance was unchangeable, and that thou hadst a care of, and passedst thy judgement upon men; and that in Christ thy Sonne, our Lord, and thy holy Scriptures, which the Authority of thy Church should acknowledge Scriptu­ris, quas Ecclesiae commen­daret au­toritas. Where Ec­clesiae may be the da­tive Case: and then may it goe thus: Which Scriptures thy authori­ty recom­mended unto the Church: as before hee said, lib. 6. cap. 5. See the place. Here the Po­pish Translator would needes give Authority to the Church to teach us what is Scripture. For that controversie, see our Preface., thou hast laid out the way of mans salvation, to passe to that life which is to come after death. These grounds remaining safe and irremoveably settled in my minde, I with much anxiety sought, from what root the na­ture of Evill should proceed. What torments did my teeming heart then endure, and what throwes, O my God! yet even to them were thine eares open, and I knew it not: and when in silence I so vehemently en­quired [Page 371] after it, those silent con­ditions of my soule, were strong cryes unto thy mercy.

2. Thou, and not man, knew­est how much I suffered. For, how great was that which my tongue sent forth into the eares of my most familiar friends? And yet did I disclose the whole tumule of my soule, for which neither my time nor tongue had beene sufficient? Yet did all of it ascend into thy hearing, which I roared out from the grones of my heart; yea, my whole de­sires were said up before thee, nor was I master of so much as of the light of mine owne eyes: for that was all turn'd inward, but I outward: nor was that confined to any place, but I bent my selfe to those things that are contained in places: but there found I no place to rest in, nor did those places so entertain mee, that I could say, It is e­nough, and 'tis well: nor did [Page 372] they yet suffer me to turne back, where I might finde well-being enough. For to these things was I superiour, but inferiour to thee: and thou art that true joy of me thy Subject: and thou hast sub­jected under mee, those things which thou createdst below me.

3. And this was the true tem­per, and the middle Region of my safety, where I might re­maine conformable to thine I­mage, and by serving thee, get the dominion over mine owne body. But when as I rose up proudly against thee, and when I ran upon my Lord with my necke, with the thick bosses of my Iob 15. 26. buckler; then were these inferi­our things made my over-mat­ches, and kept me under, nor could I get either releasement or space of breathing. They ran on all sides by heapes and troopes upon mee, broad-looking on them; but having in my thoghts these corporeall Images, they [Page 373] way-laid me as I turn'd backe, [...] they should say unto mee; Whither goest thou, O thou un­worthy and base creature? And these grew more in number even out of my wound; for thou hast humbled the proud like as him that is wounded, & through my owne swelling was I set further off from thee; yea, my cheekes, too big swolne, even blinded up mine eyes.

CHAP. 8. How the mercy of God at length relieved him.

1. THou, Lord; art the same for ever: nor art thou an­gry with us for ever; because thou hast pitie upon dust and ashes, and it was pleasing in thy sight to reforme my deformi­ties: and by inward gallingsdidst thou startle me, that I shouldst become unquiet, till such time as it might bee assured unto [Page 374] my inward sight, that it was thou thy selfe. Thus, by the se­cret hand of thy medicining, was my swelling abated; and that troubled and bedimmed eyesight of my soule, by the smart eye-salve of mine owne wholsome dolours, daily began more and more to be cleered.

CHAP. 9. What he found in some Bookes of the Platonists, agreeable to the Christian Doctrine.

1. AND thou being desi­rous first of all to shew unto me, how thou resistest the I am 4. 6. proud, but givest grace unto the humble; and with what great mercy of thine the way of hu­mility is traced out unto men, in that thy WORD was made flesh, and dwelt among men: thou procuredst for mee, by meanes of a certaine man, puft [Page 375] up with a most unreasonable pride, to see certaine Bookes of the This was likely to be the Booke of Amelius the Plato­nist, who hath indeed this begin­ning of S. Iohns Go­spell: cal­ling the A­postle a Bar­barian. Euseb. in Praepara [...]. Evang. lib. 10. cap. 10. Clemens Alexan­drinus said that Plato was Ex Hebraeis Philoso­phus. For hee learn'd many things in Egypt of the Iewes: and he and Aristotle had seene the Septua­gints Translation. Niceras in Nazianzeni Orat. 24. tels that Plato first of all the Gentiles came to Christ preaching in Hell, beleeved, and was converted. Platonists, translated out of Greeke into Latine. And therein I read, not indeed in the selfe same words, but to the very same purpose, perswaded by many reasons, and of seve­rall kinds, That Ioh. 1. 1, 2, 3, 4. In the begin­ning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and that Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by him, and without him was nothing made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. And the light shined in the darknesse, and the darknesse comprehended it not. And for that the soule of man, though it gives testimony of the light, yet [Page 376] it selfe is not that light; but the Word of God is: for God is that true light that lighteth e­very man that commeth into the world. And because he was in the world, and the world was Verse 9, 10, 11, 12, 13. made by him, & the world knew him not: and because hee came unto his owne, and his owne re­ceived him not: But as many as received him, to them gave hee power to become the sons of God, as many as beleeved in his name; All this did I not read there.

2. There again did I read, that God the Word was not borne of flesh nor of blood, nor of the will of man, nor of the will of the flesh, but of God. But that the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, did I not there reade. I found out in those Bookes, that it was many and divers waies said; that the Sonne being in the forme of the Father, Philip. 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11. thought it no robbery to be equal with God, for that naturally he [Page 377] was the same with him. But that [...] himselfe of no reputa­ [...], taking upon him the forme [...] a servant, and was made in [...] likenesse of men, and was sound in fashion as a man, and humbled himselfe, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the Crosse. Wherefore God hath highty exalted him from the dead, and given him a name over every name, that at the name of Iesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth. And that eve­ry tongue should confesse that Iesus Christ is Lord, to the glo­ry of God the Father; those Bookes have not.

3. But that thy onely begot­ten. Sonne, coeternall with thee, war before all times, and beyond all times remains unchangeable, and that of his fulnesse all soules receive what makes thē blessed; and that by participation of that [Page 378] wisedome which remaines in them, they are renewed, that they may be made wise, is there. But that he in due time dyed for the wicked; and that thou spa­redst not thine onely Sonne, but Rom. 8. 32. deliveredst him for us all, is not there. For thou hast hid these things from the wise, and hast revealed them unto babes; that they that labour and are heavy loaden, might come unto thee, Mat. 11. 28. and thou mightest refresh them. Because he is meeke and lowly i [...]heart: and the meeke he di­recteth in Iudgement, and such as be mild he teacheth his waies, beholding our humility and la­bour, and forgiving us all our sinnes. But such as are puft up with the high straine of a subli­mer learning, heare not him say­ing unto them, Learne of mee, for I am meeke and lowly in­heart, Mat. 11. 29 and you shall finde rest to your soules. And, If they know Rom. 1. 21, 22, 23. God, yet they glorifie him not [Page 379] as God, nor give thankes unto [...], but waxe vaine in their imaginations; and their foolish heart is darkned; and profes­sing that they were wise, they became fooles.

4. And there also did I read, that they had changed the glory of thy incorruptible nature into Idols, and divers shapes, into the likenesse of the image of cor­ruptible man, and birds, and beasts, and Serpents; yea verily into that Egyptian foode, for which Esau lost his birth-right; Gen. 25. for that that people, which was thy first-borne, worshipped the head of a foure-footed Beast in­stead of thee, turning in their heart backe towards Egypt; and bowing thy Image (their owne soule) before the image of a Calfe that eateth hay. These Psal. 106. 20. things found I there; but I fed not on them. For it pleased thee, O Lord, to take away the re­proach of diminution from Ia­cob, [Page 380] that the elder brother should serve the yonger: and thou hast called the Gentiles into thine in­heritance.

5. And I my selfe came unto thee from among the Gentiles; and I set my mind earnestly up­on that gold which thou willedst thy people to take from the E­gyptians, seeing thine it was, Exod. 3. 22 wheresoever it were. And to the Athenians thou saidst by thy Apostle; That in thee we live, Acts 17. 28 move, and have our being, as one of their own Poets had said. And verily these Bookes came from thence. But I set not my minde towards the Idols of E­gypt, which they made of thy gold; even they who changed the truth of God into a lye; and Rom. 1. 25. worshipped and served the crea­ture more than the Creator.

CHAP. 10. Divine things are more cleere­ly discovered unto him.

1. ANd being upon this ad­monished to returne to my selfe, I entred even into mine owne inwards, thou being my Leader: and able I was to do it, for thou wert now become my helper. Into my selfe I went, and with the eye of my soule (such as it was) I discovered over the same eye of my soule, over my minde, the unchangeable light of the Lord. Not this, vulgar light, which all flesh may looke upon; nor yet another greater of the same kinde; as if this should much and much more cleerely, and with its greatnesse take up all the roome. This light was none of that, but another, yea cleane another from all these. Nor was it in that man­ner above my soule, as Oyle is [Page 382] upon water, nor yet as the hea­ven is above the earth: but supe­riour to my soule, because it made me; and I was inferiour to it, because I was made by it He that knowes what Truth is, knowes what that light is; and he that knowes it, knowes eter­nity. Charity knowes it.

2. O eternall Truth! and true Charity! and deare eterni­ty! Thou art my God, to thee doe I sigh night and day. Thee when I first saw, thou liftedst ine up, that I might see there was something which I might see; and that yet it was not I that did see. And thou diddest beat backe the infirmity of my owne sight, darting thy beames of light upon me most strongly, and I trembled both with love and horrour: and I perceived my selfe to be far off from thee, in the Region of utter Ʋnlike­nesse, as if I heard this voice of thine from on high: I am the [Page 383] food of strong men, grow apace, and thou shalt feed upon me; nor shalt thou convert me like com­mon food, into thy substance, but thou shalt be changed into mee. And I learned thereupon, That thou with rebukes hast corre­cted Psal. 39. 11 me for iniquity, thou ma­dest my soule to consume away like a moath. And I said; Is Truth therefore nothing at all, seeing it is neither diffused by in­finite spaces of places, nor by fi­nite? But thou cryedst to mee from afarre off; Yea verily, I AM that I AM. This voice I Exod. 3. heard, (as things are heard in the heart) nor was there any suspicion at all, why I should doubt of it: yea, I should soo­ner doubt that I did not live, than that it was not the Truth, which is cleerely to be seene by Rom. 1. 20. those things which are made.

CHAP. 11. How the Creatures are, and yet are not.

1. ANd I cast mine eyes up­on those other creatures beneath thee, and I perceived, that they neither have any abso­lute being, nor yet could they be said to have no being. A being they have, because they had it from thee: and yet no being, be­cause what thou art, they are not. For that truely hath a be­ing, which remaines unchange­ably. It is good then for mee to Psal. 73. 28. hold fast unto God: for if I re­maine not in him, I shall never bee able to doe it in my selfe: whereas he remaining in him­selfe, reneweth all things. And Psal. 26. 1. thou art my Lord, neither doest thou stand in need of my good­nesse.

CHAP. 12. All that is, is good.

1. ANd manifested unto me it was, that even those things bee good, which yet are corruptible; which, were they soveraignely good, could never be corrupted: because if sove­raignely good they were, they must needes bee incorruptible: and if they held no goodnesse in them at all, neither should they have any thing in them to bee corrupted. For corruption hurts every thing, but unlesse it could diminish their goodnes, it could not hurt. Either therefore cor­ruption does at all no hurt (which cannot be;) or, which is most certaine, all which is cor­rupted, is deptived of its good­nesse. If things then shall bee deprived of all their goodnesse, they shall have at all no being. [Page 386] For if they shall still bee, and shall not bee at all corrupted, they shall thereby become bet­ter, because they remaine ever incorruptibly.

2. What more absurd now, than to affirme those things that have lost all their goodnesse, to be made the better by it? Ther­fore, whenever they shall be de­prived of all their goodnesse, they shall also lose all their being. So long therefore as they are, they are good: therefore whatsoever are, are good. That Evill then which I sought, whence it should be, is not any substance: for were it a substance, it should be good. For either it should be an incorruptible substance, that is to say, of the chiefe sorts of good; or else should it bee some corruptible substance; which unlesse it were some way or o­ther good, it could not be cor­rupted. I perceived therefore, and it was made plaine unto me, [Page 387] that all things are good which thou hast made: nor is there a­ny substance at all, which thou hast not made. And for that all which thou hast made are not equall, therefore are they all good in generall, because all good in particular, and all toge­ther very good, because thou our God hast made all things very [...]. 31. good.

CHAP. 13. All created things praise God.

1. ANd to thee is there no­thing at all evill: yea, not onely in respect of thee, but also not in respect of thy Crea­tures in generall; because there is not any thing which is with­out thee, which hath power to breake in, or discompose that Order which thou hast settled. But in some particulars of thy Creatures, for that some things [Page 388] there bee, which so well agree not with some other things, they are conceived to be evill: where­as those very things sute well e­nough with some other things, and are good; yea, and in them­selves good. And all these things which doe not mutually agree one with another, doe yet sute well enough with this inferiour part, which we cal Earth; which hath such a cloudy and windie Region of Ayre hanging over it, as is in nature agreeable to it.

2. God forbid now, that I should ever say that there were no other things extant besides these, for should I see nothing but these, verily I should went the better. And yet even onely for these ought I praise thee [...] that thou art to be praised, [...] things of the [...] doe [...] Dragons, and all [...] Haile Snow, [...]ee, and [...] Wind, which fulful thy [...] Mountaines, and all [...], [Page 389] fruitfull Trees, and all Cedars, Beasts, and all Cattell; creeping things, and flying Fowles; Kings of the Earth, and all people; Princes, and all Iudges of the Land: Yong men, and Mai­dens; Psal. 148. Old men, and Children, let them praise thy Name. See­ing also these in heaven praise thee, let them praise thee, O our God, in the heights: Let all thy Angels praise thee, and all thy Hosts, Sunne and Moone, all the Starres and Light, the Hea­ven of Heavens, and the Wa­ters that be above the Heavens, let them praise thy Name. I did not now desire better, be­cause I had now thought upon them all: and that those superior things were better than these in­ferior things, but yet all together better than those superiour by themselves, I resolved upon in my bettered judgement.

CHAP. 14. To a sober minde, none of Gods Creatures are displeasing.

1. THey are not well in their wits, to whom any thing which thou hast created, is dis­pleasing, no more than I my selfe was, when as many things which thou hadst made, did not like me. And because my soule durst not take distaste at my God, it would not suffer that ought should bee accounted thine, which displeased it. Hence fell it upon the opinion of two substances, and no rest did it take, but talkt idlie. And tur­ning from thence, it fancied a God to it selfe, which tooke up infinite measures of all places; and him did it thinke to be thee; and him it placed in its heart: so that it became once againe the Temple of its own Idoll, which [Page 391] was to thee so abominable. But after thou hadst refreshed my head, (I not knowing of it) and hadst shut up mine eyes that they should no more behold va­nity; I began to bee quieted a little within my selfe, and my mad Fit was got asleepe: out of which I awaked in thee, and then discerned thee to be infinite another manner of way. But this sight was not derived from any power of my flesh.

CHAP. 15. How there is truth and falshood in the Creatures.

1. ANd I looked after this upon other things; and I saw how they owed their being to thee; and that all finite things are in thee: but in a different manner; not as in their proper place; but because thou contai­nest all things in thine hand of [Page 392] truth. All things are true so farre forth as they have a being; nor is there any falshood, unlesse when a thing is thought to bee, which is not. And I marked how that all things did agree re­spectively, not to their places onely, but to their seasons also: And that thou, who onely art eternall; didst not beginne to worke after innumerable spaces of times spent; for that all spa­ces of times, both those which are passed already, and those which are to passe hereafter; should neither goe nor come, but by thee, who art still wor­king, and still remaining.

CHAP. 16. All things are good, though to some things not fit.

1. ANd I both found and tryed it to bee no won­der, that the same bread is loth­some [Page 393] to a distempered palate, which is pleasant to a sound one: and that to sore eyes that light is offensive, which to the cleere is delightfull: and that thy Iu­stice gives disgust unto the wic­ked: yet not so much but the Viper and smallest vermine, which thou hast created good, but are fit enough to these infe­riour portions of thy Creatures, to which these very wicked are also fit; and that so much the more fit, by how much they be unlike thee; but so much liker the superiour Creatures, by how neerer resembling thee. And I enquired what this same Iniqui­ty should be: But I found it not to bee a substance, but a swar­ving meerely of the will, crookt quite away from thee, O God, (who art the supreme substance) towards these lower things; which casts abroad its inward corruption, and swels outward­ly.

CHAP. 17. What things hinder us of Gods knowledge.

1. AND I wondred not a little, that I was now come to love thee, and no Phan­tasme instead of thee: nor did I delay to enjoy my God, but was ravisht to thee by thine owne beauty; and yet by and by I violently fell off againe, e­ven by mine owne weight: rushing with sorrow enough upon these inferiour things. This weight I spake of, was my old fleshly customes. Yet had I still a remembrance of thee; nor did I any way doubt, that thou wert he to whom I ought to cleave; but yet I was not the partie fit to cleave unto thee: for that the body which is corrup­ted, presseth downe the soule, and Wisd. 9. 15. the earthly tabernable weigheth [Page 395] downe the minde that museth upon many things. And most certaine I was, that thy invisi­ble workes from the creation of Rom. 1. 20. the world are cleerely seene, be­ing understood by the things that are made, even thy eternall power and Godhead.

2. The Po­pish Trans­lator notes in his Mar­gent, An high dis­course: and so it is in­deed; too high for his reach: for he under­stands it not. Js a poore peece of phi­losophy so high with him? He would same have that thought to be myste­ry, which he makes non­sense. For studying now, by what reasons to make good the beauty of corporeall things, ey­ther celestiall or terrestriall: and what proofe I had at hand, solidly to passe sentence upon these mutable things, in pro­nouncing; This ought to be thus, and this must be so; plodding (I say) on this, upon what ground namely I ought to judge, seeing I did thus judge: I had by this time found the unchangeable and true eternity of truth, resi­ding upon this changeable mind See the beginning of Chap. 10. of mine. And thus by degrees, passing from bodies, to the soule, which makes use of the senses of the body to perceive by: and [Page 396] from thence to its The [...]ive outward senses repre­sent the spe­cies or images which they have recei­ved unto the three in­ward senses, The Com­mon sense, Fancy, and Memory. Some deny memory unto beasts: but the other two they have: and their Fancy is the chiefe power of their soule, by which they iudge of what ever corcernes the Beyond Fancy they cannot goe. inner facul­ties, unto which the senses of the body are to represent their outward objects; and so for­ward, as farre as the irrationall creatures are able to goe. Thence againe passed I on to the Reaso­ning facultie, unto which what­ever is received from the senses of the body, is referred to bee judged.

2. This also finding it selfe to be variable in me, betooke it selfe towards its owne under­standing; drawing away my thoughts from my old fleshly custome, and withdrawing it selfe from those confused multi­tudes of phantasies, which con­tradict one another; that so it might find out that light, which it now had a glimpse of: pre­sently upon the finding where­of, without all further doubting, it cryed out, that what was unchangeable, was to be prefer­red before what was changea­ble, [Page 397] by which it had come to know that unchangeable. Which, unlesse by some meanes or other it had knowne, it could never have had sure ground for the preferring of it before the Changeable; nor have come so high as that which is set within hence of the twinckling eye­sight. And now came I to have a sight of those invisible: things of thee, which are understood Rom. 1. 20. by those things which are made. But I was not able to fixe mine eye long upon them: but my in­firmity being beaten backe a­gaine, I was turned to my won­ted fancies; carrying along with me no more but a liking of those new thoughts in my memory, and an appetite as it were to the meat I had smelt; which as yet I was not able to eate of.

CHAP. 18. Onely Christ is the way to Sal­vation.

1. THen set I my selfe to seeke a meanes of reco­vering so much strength, as should bee sufficient to enjoy thee; but I could not finde it, untill I embraced that Media­tor 1 Tim. 2. 5 betwixt God and man, the Man Iesus Christ; who is over Rom. 9. 5. all, God blessed for evermore, then calling unto me, and say­ing, I am the way, the truth, Ioh 14. 6. and the life: who mingled that food which I was unable to take (his owne flesh) unto ou [...] flesh. For the Word was made Ioh. 1. 14. flesh, that by thy wisedome by which thou createdst [...] things, hee might sackle o [...] infancy. For I, not yet hum­bled enough, did not apprehe [...] my Lord Iesus Christ, who ha [...] [Page 399] made himselfe humble; nor did I yet know what lesson that in­firmity of his would teach us. For thy Word, the eternall truth, being so highly exalted above the highest of thy Creatures, reaches up those that were cast downe, unto it selfe: having here below built for it selfe a lowly Cottage of our clay, by which hee intended to abase from the height of their owne 2 Cor. 10. 5 imaginations, those that were to be cast downe; that so hee might bring them about unto himselfe; allaying the swelling of their pride, and cherishing of their love: To the end they might goe on no further in the confidence of themselves, but might finde their owne weak­nesse rather; seeing the Divi­nity it selfe enfeebled at our feete, by taking our fleshly garment upon him: that so be­ing weary at length, they might cast downe their selves upon it, [Page 400] and that rising, might raise up them together with it.

CHAP. 19. What he thought of Christs in­carnation.

1. BVt I had before farre o­ther thoughts: concei­ving onely of my Lord Christ, as of a man of excellent wise­dome, whom no man could bee equalled unto; and in this re­gard especially, for that be­ing so wonderfully borne of a Ʋirgine, (giving us an exam­ple how to contemne world­ly things for the obtaining of immortality;) that divine care of his seemed to have de­served so much authority, as to be the Master over us. But what Mystery this might carry with it, The Word was made flesh, I could not so much as imagine. Thus much I collected out of [Page 401] what is Scripta trade ren­tur. Here the Popish Translator, (a [...] every where hee do [...]) takes occasion to diminish the authori­ty of the Scripture: noting, that it came to us by tra­dition. It did so: but not onely so: we have hi­story also for every booke of it: and it selfe brings light with it to shew it selfe by: as by the light of the sunne we see and know the Sunne. Have Popish Traditions eyther of these two proofes? come to us being written of him, how that he did eate, and drinke, and sleepe, and walkt, and rejoyced in spirit, and was heavy, and preached: that, flesh alone did not cleave unto thy Word, but our humane soule and minde also with it. E­very body knowes thus much, that knoweth the unchangeable­nesse of thy Word: which I my selfe now knew, (as well as I could) nor did I at all make any doubt of it. For, for him to move the limbes of his body by his will, and other-whiles not to move them; now to be stir­red by some affection, and at an­other time not to bee affected; now to deliver wise sentences, and another while to keepe si­lence: all these be properties of a soule and mind that are muta­ble. And should these things be falsely written of him, all the rest verily would be in suspicion [Page 402] of being a lye, nor should there be left at all in those Bookes a­ny safenesse of Faith for man­kinde.

2. Because therefore none but Truths are there written, I even then acknowledged a perfect man to bee in Christ. Not the body of a man onely, a sensitive soule without a rationall, but a very man, whom, not onely for his being a person Now is he falne frō the Mani­chees, who held Christ not to have a true, but a fantastical body or per­son onely: and to have excellent gifts of na­ture, but no truth of hu­mane na­ture. of Truth, but for a certaine extraordinary excellency of humane nature that was in him, I judged wor­thy to be preferred before all o­ther men. As for Alipius, hee imagined the Catholikes to have beleeved, God to be so cloathed with flesh, that besides God and flesh, there was no soule at all in Christ, and that they had prea­ched there was no soule of man in him. And because hee was verily perswaded, that those Actions which were recorded of him, could not bee perfor­med [Page 403] but by a vitall and a rati­onall Creature, he was the slow­er therefore in moving towards the Christian Faith. But under­standing afterwards, that this was the errour of the Apollina­rian Heretikes, hee was better pleased with the Catholike faith, and better complyed with it. But something later it was, I confesse, ere I learned, how in this sentence, The Word was made flesh, the Catholike Truth could be cleered of the heresie of Photinus. For, the confuting of the Heretikes, makes the o­pinion of thy Church more emi­nent, and the Tenet which the sound doctrine maintaineth. For 1 Cor. 11. 19. there must be also Heresies, that they which are approved, may bee made manifest among the weake.

CHAP. 20. Of divers Bookes of the Plato­nists.

1. BVt having read as then these Bookes of the Pla­tonists, having once gotten the hint from them, and falling up­on the search of incorporeall truth; I came to get a sight of these invisible things of thine, which are understood by those things which are made: and Rom. 1. 20. being put backe againe, I per­ceived, how that the darknesse of mine own mind was it which so hindred my contemplation, as that I was not suffered to bee certaine, That thou were both infinite, and yet not diffused o­ver finite and infinite places: and that thou art truely the same that thou art ever, nor in any part, nor by any motion, other­wise at one time than at another: [Page 405] and that all other things are from thee, taught so by this one most firme demonstration, that they are. Of these things I was certaine enough, yet too too weake to comprehend thee. I prated altogether like a skilfull Fellow; but had I not sought thy way in Christ our Saviour, I had not proved The other Translator hath made most strange sense in these two or three former chap­ters: and here twice together he hath read potitus (as [...]ghesse) in­stead of pe­ [...]itus. So [...] any of [...]se negli­gences hath be commit­ted, in mis­ [...]king one word [...] that I verily be [...] it by Owle­ [...]ght. a skilfull man, but a lost man. For now (forsooth) I beganne to be desi­rous to seeme wise; full of mine owne punishment, yet could not weepe for it, but became more and more puffed up with my knowledge.

2. For where was that cha­rity that should build mee up from that foundation of humility, which is in Christ Iesus? or when would these bookes have taught me that? Yet upon these, I beleeve it was, thy pleasure that I should first fall, be­fore. I tooke thy Scriptures into my consideration; that I might [Page 406] print in memory, how far those Bookes wrought upon my affe­ctions: and that when after­wards I should come to bee made tractable by thy Bookes, (thine own fingers undertaking the cure of me, and my wounds dressed) I might discerne at last and distinguish, how maine a difference there was betwixt Presumption and Confession; betwixt those that saw whither they were to goe, but knew no­thing of the way; and that path which leades unto that blessed Countrey, not to be lookt upon onely, but dwelt in. For had I first been brought up in thy ho­ly Scriptures, and in the familiar use of them, thy selfe had grown sweet unto me, and falne upon these Philosophicall volumes af­terwards; they might eyther have withdrawne me from the sollid ground of piety, or if I had stood firme in that whol­some disposition which I had [Page 407] there tasted, I might perchance have thought, that a man, even out of these Platonike bookes, might have gotten the same, had he studied them onely.

CHAP. 21. What he found in the holy Scri­ptures, which was not in the Platonists.

1. MOst greedily therefore laid I hold upon that venerable stile of thy Spirit: and upon the Apostle Paul a­bove all the rest. Whereupon those difficulties quite vanished away, in which hee sometimes seemed unto mee to contradict himselfe, and wherein the Text of his discourse, seemed not to agree with the testimonies of the Law and the Prophets. And there appeared unto me that one face of that chaste Eloquence; and I learned to rejoyce with [Page 408] trembling. I set upon it, and found whatsoever I there read, to be true. These things, to the praise of thy Grace, I there lear­ned, that he which sees, may not so glory, as if he had not recei­ved; not that onely which hee 1 Cor. 4. 7. does see, but also that which he may see. For what hath hee, which hee hath not received? Yea, both that hee may be put in minde not onely to see thee, who art ever the same, but that he may be made strong, to hold thee: and that he who from a farre off is not able to see his way, may yet walke on, to the end he may at last arrive, and see, and comprehend. For, though a man be delighted with the Law of God after the inner man, yet how shall he doe with that other Law in his members, Rom. 7. 22 23. which warres against the Law of his minde, and bringeth him into captivity to the Law of sin which is in his members? For, [Page 409] thou art righteous, O Lord, but Dan. 9. 5. 7 we have sinned and committed iniquity, and thy hand is growne heavy upon us [...]and we are just­ly delivered over unto that old Sinner, the President of death: for he hath wrought our will to become like his will, whereby he departed from thy Truth.

2. What shall wretched man doe? who shall deliver him from Rom. 7. 24 the body of this death? but on­ly thy Grace, through Iesus Christ our Lord, whom thou hast begotten coeternall to thy selfe, and possessedst in the be­ginning Pro. 8. 22. of thy waies: in whom the prince of this world found Ioh. 14. 30. nothing worthy of death; yet kild he him; whereby the hand­writing was blotted out, which Col. 2. 14. was contrary to us. None of all this doe these Platonike wri­tings containe. Those leaves can shew nothing of this face of peitie, those teares of confession, that sacrifice of thine, a troubled Psal. 51. [Page 410] spirit, a broken and a contrite heart, the salvation of thy peo­ple, the Spouse, the City, the earnest of the Holy Ghost, the Cup of our Redemption. No man sings there, Shall not my Psal 62. 1. 2. soule waite upon God, seeing from him commeth my salvati­on? For he is my God, and my salvation, my defence; I shall not be greatly moved.

2. No man in those Bookes heares him calling, Come unto me all yee that labour: yea, Mar. 11. 28 29, 25. they scorne to learne of him, be­cause he is meeke and lowly in­heart. For these things hast thou hid from the wise and pru­dent, and hast revealed them­unto babes. For it is one thing, from the wilde top of a Moun­taine He alludes to Deut. 32 49. to see the Land of Peace, and not to find the way thither; and in vaine to travell through wayes unpassable, round about beset with these fugitive Spirits, forsakers of their God, lying in [Page 411] ambush with that Ring-leader of theirs, the Lion and the Dra­gon: and another thing to keep on the way that leades thither, which is guarded by the care of our heavenly Generall: where they exercise no robberies, that forsooke the heavenly Armie: which they abhorre as much as their very torment. These things did by wonderfull meanes sinke into my very bowels, when as I read that least of thy Apostles, and had con­sidered 1 Cor. 15. 9 upon thy workes, and trembled. *⁎*

CHAP. 1. How being inflamed with the love of heavenly things, hee goeth to Simplicianus.

GIve me leave, O my God, with Thanksgiving, to remember, & confesse un­to thee thine owne mercies bestowed upon [Page 413] me. Let my bones be filled with thy love, and let them say unto thee, Who is like unto thee, O Psal. 86. 8. Psal 116. 16, 17. Lord? thou hast broken my bonds in sunder, I will offer unto thee the sacrifice of thanksgi­ving. And how thou hast bro­ken them will I now declare; and all men who worship thee, when they heare of it, shall say, Blessed bee the Lord, both in Heaven and in Earth, great and wonderfull is his Name. Thy words had stucke fast even to the very roots of my heart, and I was hedged round about by Iob 1. 10. thee. Of the eternity of thy life I was now become certaine, though I had no more than seene it in a glasse, as it were, 1 Cor. 13. 12. darkely. All my former doub­tings, concerning an incorrup­tible substance, from which all other substance should derive its being, was now quite taken away from me; nor did I desire as now to bee made more cer­taine [Page 414] of thee, but better assured in thee. As for mine owne tem­porall life, all things were as yet unresolved; my heart was to be purged from the old leaven. The 1 Cor. 5. 7 way (our Saviour himselfe) I ve­ry Ioh. 14. 6. well liked oft but it i [...]ked me to follow him through those stre [...]ghts which he had passed.

2. Thous didst put into my minde, and it seemed good in mine owne eyes, to goe unto Simplicianus, who seemed to me a faithfull servant of thine, and that thy grace shined in him: of whom I had further heard, that from his very youth he had lived most devoutly to­wards thee. Hee was now growne into yeeres; and by rea­son of so great an age, spent in so good a purpose as following of thy waies, he seemed to mee to have gained experience of many things, and to have beene taught many things; and verily so hee had. Out of which skill of his, [Page 415] I desired him affoord mee some directions, (making him ac­quainted with my heats) which should be the readiest way for a man in my case, to walke in thy pathes. For, the Church I saw to full; and one went this way, and another that way. But very unpleasent to mee it was, that I led the life of a wor [...]ling: yea a very grievous but them it was, (those desires af­ter the hopes of honour and pro­fit inflaming me now no longer as they were wont to doe) to un­dergoe so heavy a bondage. For, in respect of thy sweetnesse, and the beauty of thy house which I loved, those thoughts delighted me no longer. But very strong­ly yet was I enthralled with the love of women: nor had thine Apostle forbidden me to marry, although he advised me to the 1 Cor. 7. 8. better, earnestly wishing that all men were as himselfe then was.

3. But I being weake, made [Page 416] choice of the softer place: and because of this alone, was lan­guishing I, tumbled up and downe in the rest; yea I pined away with withering cares, be­cause in other matters which I was unwilling to undergoe, I was constrained to accomodate my selfe to a married life, unto which I voluntarily stood in­thralled. I had understood from the mouth of Truth it selfe, That there were some Eunuchs, which have made themselves Mat. 19. 12. Eunuchs for the Kingdome of Heavens sake: but let him re­ceive this saying that is able. All those men verily are vaine, in whom the knowledge of God is not; and who could not out of these things which seeme good, find out him that is good indeed. But I continued no lon­ger in that vanity, I was now gotten beyond it; and by the testimony of all thy Creatures, had I found thee our Creator, [Page 417] and thy WORD GOD toge­ther with thee, and the Holy Ghost one God also with thee, by whom thou createdst all things.

4. There is yet another kinde of wicked men, who knowing Rom. 1. 21. God, did not glorifie him as God, neither were thankefull: upon these also was I falne, but thy right hand sustained me, and delivering me out of their com­pany, placedst mee where I might grow better: For thou hast said unto man, Behold, the Iob 28. 28 feare of the Lord is wisedome: and, be not desirous to seeme wise Pro. 3. 7. in thine owne eyes, because they who affirmed themselves to bee Rom. 1. 22 wise, became fooles. But I had now found that Pearle of price, Mat. 13. 46 which I ought to have bought, though I sold all that I had. But I was yet in a quandarie what to doe.

CHAP. 2. How Victorinus, the famous Orator, was converted.

1. VNto Simplicianus ther­fore I went, the Father The for­mer Trans­lator sayes, that he was either his Godfa­ther, or his ghostly fa­ther. Bold man! Ba­ronius in Saint Am­brose his life, could have taught him, that this Sim­plicianus, being a wise and a religious man, was sent by Damasus Bishop of Rome, unto Millan purposely, to be the Adviser and Director of Saint Ambrose, then but a [...]ong Bishop; therefore did Saint Ambrose love him as his Father. To this Simplicianus is Ambrose his second Epistle lib 4. directed. He also succeeded Ambrose in his Bish [...]pricke. at that time of Bishop Am­brose in his receiving of thy grace; whom verily hee loved as his owne Father. To him I discovered the winding courses of my errour. But when I told him that I had read over certain Bookes of the Platonists, which Ʋictorinus, sometimes Rheto­ricke professor of Rome, (who dyed a Christian, as I had heard) had translated into La­tine, hee much rejoyced over [Page 419] me, for that I had not falne upon any other Philosophers Writings, which use to bee full of fallacies and vaine deceits, after the rudiments of this Col. 2. 8. world: whereas in the Plato­nists, GOD and his WORD was many wayes insinuated. And the better to exhort me to Christs humility, (hidden from the wise, and revealed to little Mat. 11. 25 ones) he fell upon the mention of Ʋictorinus, whom whilest he was at Rome hee had famili­arly knowne: and of him hee told this Story, which I will not here conceale, seeing it af­foords matter of much praise of thy grace, which ought to bee confessed unto thee.

2. Hee told mee, how this most learned old man, most skilfull in all the liberall Scien­ces; one, who had read, and censured, and explained so ma­ny of the Philosophers; one, that had been Master to so ma­ny [Page 420] noble Senators, who also as an Ensigne of his so famous ma­stership, had (which world­lings esteeme such an honour) both deserved and obtained a Statuae Famous Souldiers, Common­wealths­men, and Schollers, were, for in­courage met of others, thus honou­red at Rome. in the Roman Forum: hee remaining even till his old age a worshipper of Idols, and a copartner of such sacrilegious solemnities, (with which al­most all the Nobility and peo­ple of Rome were inspired) and of that monstrous rabble of the gally-maufry of Gods, and of Anubis the barker, which had sometimes maintained the Bucklers against Neptune, Ue­nus, and Minerva Nep tune, Ve­nus, and Minerva, were three of the Tu­telar Gods of Rome, as Anubis (worshipt in shape of a Dog) was of Egypt: and the Romanes having conquered many Procinces, brought house their Gods, and worshipt them: So that Rome at last came to have 30000 Gods., whom Rome having once conquered, now worshipped: all which this old Victorious with his thundering Eloquence, had so many yeeres beene the Cham­pion [Page 421] of, but now blushed not to become the childe of thy Christ, and an Infant at thy Font; submitting his necke to the yoke of humility, and sub­duing his forehead to the igno­miny of the Crosse.

3. O Lord, O Lord, which Psal. 144. 5 hast bowed the Heavens and come downe, touched the moun­taines and they did smoke: by what means didst thou conveigh thy selfe into that mans breast? He read (as Simplicianus said) the holy Scripture, most studi­ously sought after and searcht into all the Writings of the Christians, and said unto Sim­plicianus, (not openly, but af­ter a private and familiar man­ner) You shall now understand that I am a Christian. Sim­plicianus answered him, I will never beleeve it, nor will I ranke you among the Christians, un­lesse I see you in the Church of Christ. Whereunto he smiling [Page 422] upon him, replyed, Is it the wals that makes Christians? And this he often reiterated, that he was now a Christian: and Simplicianus making the same answer, the conceipt of the wals was as often returned. For he feared to offend his friends, which were proud Divell-wor­shippers, from the heighth of whose Babylonian dignity, as from the top of the Cedars of Libanus, which the Lord had not yet brought downe, he sup­posed a storme of ill-will would showre upon him.

4. But when once by rea­ding and earnessnesse he had ga­thered strength, and that he fea­red to be denyed by Christ be­fore his Angels, should he now Luk. 9. 26. be afraid to confesse him before men; and that he appeared guil­ty to himselfe of a mighty crime, in being ashamed of the Sacraments of the humility of thy Word; whereas he had not [Page 423] beene ashamed of the sacrilegi­ous sacrifices of those proud di­vels (of whose pride himselfe had beene an imitater) he put on a confident face against vanity, and was ashamed not to con­fesse the truth: yea, all on the sudden, when Simplicianus thought nothing of it, he sayes unto him, (as himselfe told me) Come, let us goe to the Church, I resolve to be made a Christian. But he, not able to contain him selfe for joy, went along with him: where, so soone as he was instructed in the first mysteries of Religion, he not long after gave in his name, that he might bee regenerated by Baptisme: the Citie of Rome wondring, and the Church rejoycing. The proud beheld it, and were inra­ged; guashing upon him with their teeth, and even pining away with envie at it. But the Lord God was the hope of his servant, who tooke no regard [Page 424] to vanities and lying madnesse.

5. To conclude, when the houre was come wherin he was to make profession of his faith, Here be di­vers parti­culars of the Primitive fashion, in this Story of Victori­nus. First being con­verted, he was to take some well­knowne Christian, (who was to bee his Godfather) to goe with him to the Bishop: who upon no­tice of it, admitted him a Catechumenus, and gave him those sixe points of Catechisticall Doctrine, mentioned Heb. 6. 1, 2. When the time of Baptisme drew neere, the yong Christian came to give in his heathen name, which was presently registred; submitting himselfe to Exa­mination. On the Eve, was be in a set forme, first, to renounce the Divell, and to pronounce, I confesse to thee, O Christ; repeating the Creed with it, in the forme here recorded. The time for giving in their names, must he within the two first weekes of Lent: and the so lemne day to renounce upon, was Maunday Thurs­day. So bid [...] be Councell of Laodicea, Can. 45. & 46. (which at Rome it was the cu­stome of those that were shortly to come unto thy Grace, to doe in a set forme of words, got­ten by heart, and standing aloft upon a more eminent place, where they might well be seene of all the faithfull people;) there was an offer made, (as hee said) by the Priests unto Victorinus, that he might make his Profes­sion [Page 425] more privately, as the cu­stome was to offer that courtesie to some others, who were likely to be bashfull and fearefull at the matter: but he chose rather to professe his salvation in the presence of the holy Assembly. For whereas there was no salva­tion in that Rhetoricke which he had taught, and yet had hee made publike profession of that: how much lesse therefore ought he to dread that meeke slocke of thine, in the pronouncing of thy Word, who in the delive­ry of his owne wordes, had not feared the fullest audience of mad men?

6. So soone therfore as he was mounted up aloft to make his profession, as the rest had done, and were to doe; every one that knew him, whispered his Name one to another with the voice of congratulation. And who was there that did not knowe [Page 426] him? and there ranne a soft whisper through all the mouths of the rejoycing multitude, Vi­ctorinus, Victorinus. Soone spake they of him with trium­phing, for that they saw him; and as quickly were they whi­sted againe, that they might now heare him. Hee pronoun­ced alowd the true Faith with an excellent boldnesse, and eve­ry man would gladly have pluckt him to them into their very heart: yea greedily did they snatch him in, by loving of him, and rejoycing for him. These were the hands with which they snatcht him.

CHAP. 3. That God and his Angels doe rejoyce the more, at the con­version of a greater sinner.

1. GOod GOD! what is that which is wrought in man, that he should more re­joyce at the salvation of such a soule as was in a desperate con­dition, and which hath beene delivered out of the greater dan­ger, than if there had still beene conceived good hope of him, or whose danger had beene lesser? Yea, even thou also, O most mercifull Father, doest more re­joyce over one sinner repenting, Luk. 15. 7. than over ninety and nine just persons, that need no repentance. And with much joyfulnesse doe we hearken so often as we heare it, how the lost sheepe is brought home againe, upon the Shep­heards 5. shoulder rejoycing: and [Page 428] that the lost groat is put againe into thy Treasurie, her friends and neighbours rejoycing with the woman that had found it. Yea, and the joy conceived at the solemne Service of thy house, makes the teares come out of our eyes, when as the Parable of This Les­son out of S. Luke, was much in use in the Pri­mitive Ser­vice Booke: and especi­ally after that Puri­tane opini­on of No­vatus, who denyed all pardon or absoluti­on to be given by a Priest, to any that committed a dead­ly sinne after baptisme. Which severity these Para­bles of S. Luke did so crosse, that the Ancients engraved the figure of a Shepheard with the lost Sheepe up­on his shoulder, upon their Communion Cups, to shew how willing the Church was to receive Penitents to the Communion. See Tertul. l. de pudicitia, cap. 7. & cap. 10. the yonger sonne is read in it, how he was dead, but made alive againe; he was lost, but found againe. For thou rejoy­cest both over us, as also over thy Angels, who continue holy, in holy charity. For thou art e­ver the same, and ever knowest after the selfe-fame manner, all those things which of them­selves neither continue the same ever, nor after the same manner. [Page 429] What is that therefore which is wrought in the soule, when as it is more delighted to have either found or restored, those things which it loved, than if it ever had possest them? yea, and other creatures beare witnesse hereunto; and all things are full of testimonies still crying out, That so it is.

2. The Emperour trium­pheth when hee is a Conque­rour; yet had hee never over­come, had hee not fought: and how much the more dan­ger there was in the Battaile, so much the more rejoycing is there in the Triumph. The Storme tosses the Passengers, threatens Shippe-wracke, and every body waxes pale at his death approaching: but the Skie cleeres vp, and the Sea growes calme againe, and they are as much rejoyced as they were over-skared. A deare Friend of ours is sicke, [Page 430] and his blood-letting shewes the malignity of the disease: all that wish his good health, are thereupon sicke in minde with him. Hee proves well againe, though not able to walke up and down so strongly as he was wont to doe; yet is there so great an expression of joy made, as never had beene, when as be­fore his sicknesse, he was able to walke perfectly, sound, and lustily.

3. Yea, the very pleasures of our humane life, doe we procure by preceding difficulties: not those onely which fall upon us unlookt for, and against our wils, but even purposed by us, and desired. There is no plea­sure at all in eating and drinking, unlesse the pinching of hunger and thirst goe before it. The Drunkards eate certaine salt meats, with purpose to procure a thirstie hotnesse in the mouth, which whilest the drinke quen­ches, [Page 431] the pleasure is procured. The order also it is, that the Spouse already affianced, uses not instantly to be given to her Sweetheart: for feare lest when he is an husband, he should lesse esteeme of her for being so soone obtained, whom whilest he was a wooer hee sighed not after, thinking her too long de­layed. This is observable in such joy as is dishonest, and to be ab­horred; seene also in that joy which is consented unto, and lawfull; seene likewise in the most sincere honesty of friend­ship; seene lastly, in him who was dead, and afterwards revi­ved; who was lost, and is found. The greatest joy is every where ushered in by the greatest pain­fulnesse.

4. What means this, O Lord my God, that whereas thou art an everlasting joy unto thine owne selfe, yet some things are ever rejoycing in thee, concer­ning [Page 432] thee? What meanes this, that this inferious division of things thus alters up and down, with going backwards and for­wards, with fallings out, and making friends againe? Is this the fashion of them, and is this that proportion thou then assig­nedst to them; when as even from the highest heavens, down to the lowest of the Earth, from the beginning of the world to the last end of it; from the An­gell, to the Worme; from the first thing that moveth, even un­to the last; thou didst settle all kinds of good things, and all thine owne just workes in their proper places, and accompli­shedst all-in their due seasons? Alas for me! how high art thou in the highest things, and how profound in the lowest! neither doest thou depart from us, nor are wee hardly able to returne unto thee.

CHAP. 4. Why wee are more to rejoyce in the conversion of a great sin­ner.

1. GOe on, O LORD, and make an end of it, stirre us up, and call us backe; kindle us and plucke us to thee, inflame us, and grow sweet unto us: let us now love thee, and now run after thee. Doe not many a man out of a deeper dungeon of blindenesse, than ever Ʋictori­nus was in, returne unto thee, ap­proach neerer to thee, and are enlightned with the beame they receive from thee? which they that once receeive, receive pow­er also from thee to become thy Ioh. 1. 12. sonnes: who yet if they be lesse knowne among people, even those that doe know them, are lesse joyfull for them, seeing that when a many rejoyce together, [Page 434] the joy of every single man is the fuller; even for that they warme themselves, and are inflamed by one another. Againe, because those that are generally known, are authors of salvation to the more, and give more example to follow them: and even therefore those also which have gone be­fore them, rejoyce for them, be­cause they rejoyce not for them alone. Farre bee it from our thoughts, that in thy Tabernacle the persons of the rich should be accepted of before the poore, or the Noble before the common people: seeing rather thou hast chosen the weake things of the world, to confound the mighty: 1 Cor. 1. 27. and base things of the world, and things which are despised hast thou chosen; and things which are not, to bring to nought things that are.

2. And yet even that least of thy Apostles, by whose tongue thou soundedst out these words, [Page 435] when as Paulus the Deputy had his pride beaten downe by the Act. 13. 12. spirituall warfare of that Apo­stle, and was set to draw in the easie yoke of thy Christ, now made the subject of the Great King: he also instead of Saul, which was his name before, de­sired to bee called Paul after­wards, in testimony of so great a victory. For the enemy is more overcome by wringing a man from him, of whom hee hath more hold, and by whom he hath hold of many others. And such as be proud he hath the surer hold of, by reason of their Title of nobility, and of many more under them, by reason of their authority. How much more welcome therefore; the heart of Ʋictorinus was esteemed, which the Divell had made himselfe master of, as of an invincible place of retreat; and the tongue of Ʋictorinus, with which as with a mighty and a most keene [Page 436] weapon he had slaine many: so much the more abundantly be­came it thy sonnes to rejoyce, for that our King hath bound the strong man, and that they saw Mat. 11. his vessels taken from him and Luke 11. cleansed, and to be made service­able for the Lord, unto every good worke.

CHAP. 5. What hindered his conversion.

1. BVt so soone as thy ser­vant Simplicianns had made an end of his story of Ʋi­ctorinus, I was all on fire to bee imitating of him: yea, this was the end hee told it for. After which when hee had subjoyned this relation of himselfe: how that in the daies of the Empe­rour Iulian The Apo­stata., when there was a law made, whereby the Christi­ans were forbidden to teach the liberall Sciences or Oratoric; [Page 437] and how hee obeying this law, chose rather to give over his wordy schoole, than thy Word, by which thou makest eloquent the tongues of Infants: hee see­med unto mee not to have beene so valiant, as happy in it; for that by this meanes he found the opportunity to attend upon thee onely. Which opportunity my selfe also sighed for, thus bound as I was, not with another mans Irons, but with mine owne Iron­will. My willingnesse was the enemy master of; by which hee made a chaine for me, and had therewith bound me, ‘Because, that of a froward will, is a lust made: and a lust ever obeyed, becomes a custome: and a cu­stome not resisted, brings on a necessity.’ By which links as it were hanging one upon ano­ther (for which I might well call it a chaine) did a very hard bon­dage hold me enthralled. As for that new will which now I be­gan [Page 438] to have towards the free worshipping and enjoying of thee, O God, the onely assured sweetnesse; it was not able as yet to overcome my former wil­fulnesse, now hardened in me by so long continuance. Thus did my two Wills, one new and the tother old, that carnall, and this spirituall; try masteries within mee, and by their disagreeing wasted out my soule.

2. Thus came I to understand (my selfe affording me the expe­riment) what I had sometimes read: How the flesh lusteth a­gainst the spirit, and the spirit Gal. 5. 17. against the flesh. I verily lusted both waies; yet of the two, in that rather which I approved of in my selfe, than in that which I disallowed: yet in this, I now no more; because much of it I Hee alludes unto Rom. 7. 18, 19, & 20, ver. &c. suffered rather against my will, than did it with my will. And yet was custome now by mine owne assistance, become more [Page 439] sturdy against me, even because I was comen willingly, whi­ther my will was not to have come. And who then can with any equity speake against it, if just punishment followes upon wilfull sinning? Nor had I now that faire excuse, upon pretence of which I heretofore seemed to my selfe, not as yet engaged to forsake the world to attend thy service, for that the knowledge of the truth was hitherto uncer­taine unto me: seeing now I stood assured of it. But I being prest for the earth, refused to fight under thy Banner. Yea, as He pleases himselfe here with a mili­tary Meta­phore. much afraid I was to be freed of what did hinder my march to­wards thee, as I ought to have been afraid of what might hin­der it. Thus with the Baggage of this present world was I as sweetly overladen, as a man u­ses to be with slumbering: and those thoughts with which I meditated upon thee, were like [Page 440] the offers of such as would get up; who being yet overcome with a deepe sleepe, fall againe into it. And like as there is no man who desires to sleepe al­waies, (for that in any sober mans judgement it is much bet­ter to keepe waking:) yet does a man oftentimes defer to shake off his drowfinesse, when hee findes a heavy sluggishnesse all his body over, and angry at him­selfe for it, yet he willingly takes another nap, notwithstanding it be high time for him to be stir­ring: in like manner assured I was, that much better it were for me to give up my selfe to thy charity, than to give over my selfe to mine own sensuality.

3. But notwithstanding that former course pleased, and over­came my reason, yet did this latter tickle and inthrall my sen­ses. Nor had I any thing now to answer thee calling to me, Arise, thou that sleepest and stand up Eph. 5. 14. [Page 441] from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light: and whereas thou on all sides shewedst mee, that what thou saidst was true; I had nothing at al to answer for my selfe, being convinced by that Truth; but certaine lither and drowsie words onely; Anon, see, I come by and by; let mee sleepe a little while. But my now and anon had no measure with them, and my little while drove out into a mighty length. I in vaine delighted in thy Law according to my inner man, when Rom. 7. 21, 23. another law in my members, re­belled against the Law of my minde, leading me captive into the law of sinne which was in my members. That law of sinnow, is the violence of custome, by which the mind of man is drawn and holden against it's will; de­serving to be so holden, for that it so willingly slides into that custome. Wretched I therefore, who shall deliver me from the [Page 442] body of this death; but thy grace onely, through Jesus Christ our Lord?

CHAP. 6. Pontitianus relates the life of St. Anthony.

1. AND the manner how thou deliveredst me out of the bonds of desire, which I had unto carnall concupiscence, (wherewith I was most straight­ly fettered) and from the drud­gery of worldly businesse; will I now declare, and confesse unto thy name, O Lord my helper and my redeemer. My wonted unsetlednesse of mind grew more and more upon me; and I daily sent up sighes unto thee. Thy Church I resorted frequently unto, as my businesse (under the burden of which I groaned) would give me leave. Alipius was now in company with me; [Page 443] having a time of leasure from his law-businesse, now after the Post Assessio­nem ter­tiam. third Sitting, expecting other Clients whom he might sell his counsaile unto; as I used to sell the skill of pleading; if that skill in the meane time, be not a gift of nature, rather than a purchase of Art. Nebridius had now so farre condescended to our friendly requests, as privately to instruct Ʋerecundus (a very fa­miliar friend to all of us) a Citi­zen and a Grammarian of Mil­lan; who vehemently requested, and by the right of friend shippe did even challenge such a friend­ly ayd from our company, as he very much stood in need of.

2. Nebridius therefore was not drawne to that paines by a­ny desire of profit (for he might have taken more beneficiall courses, if hee had pleased to make use of his learning:) but being a most sweet and tractable companion, out of his respects [Page 444] of courtesie, would not slight the request we made to him. But he carried it very discreetly, still wary of being knowne to those personages whom the world e­steem'd great; declining thereby all breaking off the quiet of his owne minde, which he resolved to reserve free to himselfe, and at leasure as many houres as might be, for the seeking, or reading, or hearing something concerning Wisedome.

3. Vpon a certaine day there­fore, Nebridius being absent (the occasion I doe not now re­member) behold, there came home unto me and Alipius, one Pontitianus a Country man of ours, an Affrican, who had an In Pala­tio mili­tans. I here was militi­a Togata, Ecclesiasti­ca & Aul [...] ­ca, as well as Armata. office of good credit in the Em­perours Court. What he would with us, I now know not: but downe together we sate, and in­to discourse wee fell. It so hap­ned that upon the table before us, which we used to play upon, [Page 445] he espied a booke lying, up hee tooke, and opened it; and quite besides his expectation, found it to be S. Pauls Epistles, where­as he rather thought it had been some of those bookes, which I ware out my selfe in the teaching of. At which he smiling to him­selfe, and looking upon me (in congratulating manner as it were) wondered not a little, that hee had so unexpectedly found such a kinde of booke, and onely such an one lying before me. For hee was both a Christian, and Baptized too; and one that of­ten used to prostrate himselfe before thee our GOD in the Church, in frequent and daily prayers. Whom therefore when I had once told, how that I be­stowed much paines upon those writings; there began a speech (himselfe being the relater) of Anthony the Monke of Egypt: whose name was in most high reputation among thy servants, [Page 446] though for our parts wee had not so much as once heard of him to that houre. Which when he had discovered, hee insisted the more upon that discourse, insinuating the knowledge of so famous a man unto us, and ad­miring at that our ignorance of him.

4. But we stood amazed on the other side, hearing such won­derfull workes of thine; so ge­nerally testified, so fresh in me­mory, and almost in our owne times, to be done in the true faith and Church Catholike. We all wondered; wee, to heare such great things reported; and hee, that we had never heard them. From this story of Anthony, tooke he occasion to discourse of some companies of Monasteries, and the fashions of thine owne sweet-smelling savour & the Monaste­riorum gregis, & mores sua­veolentiae tuae, et v­bera deser. ta eremi. This the o­ther Tran­slator turnes Great numbers of Mona­steries, where these things are performed which bee so pleasing unto thee, &c. Iudge Reader how the La­tine can beare his construction: & how to make it, he puts 2. sentences into one. For Monasteries, see our Preface. de­sart [Page 447] brests of the Wildernesse: of all which wee knew nothing. And there was at the same time a Monastery One Mo­nastery at Millan thē, but how ma­ny, and of how many severall or­ders bee there now? Some, both at Rome and Millan he calls Di­versoria (and not Monaste­ria) who had no rule but that of charity, and a Priest to governe them. But in Mona­steries they wrought for their livings. Aug. li. de Morib. Eccles. cap. 31. & 33. at Millan, full of good brethren, without the walls of the Citie, vnder Am­brose the nourisher of it, and yet wee knew nothing of it. Hee went on with his tale, and wee listned to him with great silence. Hereupon tooke he occasion to tell, how himselfe (I know not at what time) and three other of his Comrades (and it was at Triers when as the Emperour was taken up with seeing of the Circensian chariot-races, one afternoone) went out to walke into the Gardens next the Citie Walls; where as it fell out, they sorted themselves into two com­panies, one of the three keeping with him, and the other two walking at large also by them­selves. But as these two were ranging up and downe, they stumbled by chance upon a cer­taine [Page 448] little house, inhabited by divers of thy servant, poore in spirit, of whom is the Kingdome Mat. 5. 3. of God: where they found a lit­tle booke, wherein the life of Anthony was described.

5. One of them beganne to read, wonder at it, and to be in­flamed with it; and even in the very reading to devise with him­selfe upon the taking such a life upon him, and by giving over his secular imployments, to be­take himselfe unto thy service. And this man was one of those Officers of Court whom they stile, Agentes in rebus. There was a Society of them still a­bout the Court. Their militia or imployments were: To gather in the Emperours Tributes: To setch in offenders: To doe Pala­tina obse quia, offices of Court, provide Corne, &c. ride of [...]rrands like Messengers of the Chamber, lye abread as Spyes and Intelligencers. They were often preferd to places of Magistracis in the Provinces: such were called Principes or Magistriani. S. Hierome upon Abdias cap. 1. calls them Messengers: They succee­ded the Frumenta [...]ii. Between which two, and the Cu­riosi, and the Speculatores, there was not much diffe­rence. The other Translator because be understood none of this hath quite left out the sentence: Wisely. Agents for the publike [Page 449] affaires. Then suddenly being filled with an holy love, and a sober shame fastnesse, even angry at himselfe again, he cast his eies upon his friend, saying; Tell me, I intreat thee, what prefer­ment is that unto which all these labours of ours aspire? what ayme wee at? what is it we serve the State for? can our hopes in Court rise higher than to be the Emperours Favourites? in which fortune what is there not brittle, and full of perills? and by how many dangers ar­rive we at last unto one danger greater than all the rest? And how long shall we be in getting thus high? whereas if I be desi­rous to become the friend of God, loe I am even now made it.

6. This hee said: And all in paine in the Travaile of newnesse of life, he turn'd his eyes againe upon the book and read on, and was inwardly changed where [Page 450] thou alone couldst discerne him, and his minde was quite dispos­sest of worldly cares, as present­ly after it appeared. For as hee read forward, and rowl'd up and downe those waves of his heart, hee made expression of some indignation at himselfe, felt an inward conflict, and re­solved finally of much better courses. And thus now become wholly thine, hee saith unto his friend, even now have I broke loose from those ambitious hopes of ours, and am fully resol­ved to serve God onely; and this, from this houre forward, in this very place, will I enter upon: as for thee, if it irkes thee to imitate me, yet doe not offer to disswade me. Whereunto the other answered, that hee also would closely sticke unto him, as his partner in so ample a reward, and his fellow in so ho­nourable a service. Thus both of them now become thine, [Page 451] rear'd up a spirituall Tower with that treasure as is onely able to doe it, Of forsaking all and fol­lowing thee. Potitianus then and the other that was with him, that had walkt over other parts of the Garden in search of them, came in the very nick into the same place where they were; and having there found them, put them in minde of going homewards, for that it beganne to grow something late. But they discovering their resolution and purpose unto them, and by what meanes that will beganne, and came to be setled in them; humbly desired they would not be troublesome to them, if so be they refused to joyne themselves unto them. But Potitianus and his friend no whit altered from their old wont, did yet bewaile themselves with teares (as he af­firmed) piously congratulating with them, recommended them­selves to their prayers; and tur­ning [Page 452] their hearts towards earth­ly things, returnd into the Court. But the other two setting their affections upon heavenly, re­main'd in that Cottage. And both of them were contracted to Sweet-hearts. Who having once heard of this busines, Here the Popish Tran­slator notes, A [...]ow of Virginity after contract. True. Alas what would you have the poore wenches doe having lost their Sweethearts? What's this to Popish vowes? 1. Here's Gods extraordinary mo­tion: whereas Nunnories are as much for the State as for the Church. 2. Most primitively were the Virgins kept still in their Fathers houses, as these did for ought we know. See our Note upon the next Chapter. de­dicated also their owne Virgini­ty unto God. This was Potitia­nus his story.

CHAP. 7. He was out of love with him­selfe upon this story.

1. BVt thou, O Lord, all the while that hee was spea­king, didst turne mee backe to reflect upon my selfe; taking [Page 453] my intentions from behinde my back, where I had here­tofore onely placed them, when as I had no list to observe mine owne selfe: and thou now setst mee before mine owne face, that I might dis­cerne how filthy, and how crooked, and sordide, and be­spotted, and ulcerous, I was. And I beheld and abhorred my selfe, nor could I finde any place whither to flee from my selfe. And if I went about to turne mine eye from off my selfe, yet did that tell mee as much, as Potitianus erst had done; and thou thereup­on opposedst my selfe unto my selfe, and thrustedst mee ever and anon into mine owne eyes, to make mee finde at last mine owne iniquity, and to loath it. I had hereto­fore taken notice of it; but I had againe dissembled it, winckt at it, and forgotten it. But [Page 454] at this time, how much the more ardently I loved those two, whose wholsome purposes I heard tell of, even for that they had resigned up themselves unto thee to be cured: so much the more detestably did I hate my selfe in comparison of them. Be­cause I had already lost so many yeares, (twelve or thereabouts) since that nineteenth of mine age, when upon the reading of Cice­ro's Hortensius, I was first stir­red up to the study of Wisdome; since when (having first despised all earthly felicity) I too long delaied to search out that, whose not finding alone, but the bare seeking, ought to have been pre­ferred before all the treasures and Kingdomes of this world already found, and before all the pleasures of the body, though in all abundance to be comman­ded.

2. But I, most wretched yong fellow that I was, unhappy even [Page 455] in the very entrance into my youth; had even then begged chastity at thy hands, and said, Give me chastity and This was the Primi­tive pra­ctice, ever to premise prayer be­fore vow­ing; and still to inter­mix prayers for ability to goe through their vowes. Surely J have seen di­vers Masse­books Por­tuesses and peculiar to severall or­ders of Fry­ers, and to the Nuns of S. Clare &c. yet ne­ver saw I there, a set Prayer for the gift of Chastity. But perchance they de­sire it not yet, not whilst they are yong. Conti­nency, but doe not give it yet: for I was afraid that thou wouldst heare me too soone, and too soone deliver mee from my disease of Incontinencie; which my desire was, rather to have satisfied, than extinguished. Yea I had wandered with a sacrile­gious superstition through most wicked wayes of Manichisme: not yet sure that I was right, but preferring that, as it were, be­fore those others which I did not so much seeke after religi­ously, as oppose malitiously. And this was the reason, as I thinke, why I deferred from day to day to contemne all hopes in this world, and to follow thee onely, for that there did not ap­peare any certaine end, which I [Page 456] was to direct my course unto. But now was the day come wherein I was to bee set naked before my selfe, and when mine owne conscience was to con­vince me.

3. Where art thou my tongue? that tongue which saidest, how that for an uncertainty, thou wouldst not yet cast off the baggage of vanity. See, certain­ty hath appeared now! and yet does that burthen still overload thee: whereas behold, others have gotten wings to free their shoulders by flying from under it; others, I say, who neither have so much worne out them­selves with seeking after that certainty, nor yet spent tenne whole yeeres and more, in think­ing how to doe it. Thus felt I a corrosive within, yea most ve­hemently confounded I was with a horrible shame, when as Pontitianus was a telling that story. And he having done both [Page 457] his tale and the businesse hee came for, went his way: and I said unto my selfe; nay, what said I not within my selfe? with what scourges of condemning senten­ces lasht I not mine owne soule, to make it follow me, endevou­ring now to go after thee, which yet drew backe? It refused, but gave no reason to excuse its re­fusall by. All its arguments were already spent and confuted, there remained a silent Reman­serat muta trepid tio. This he turns There re­mained onely a kinde of speech trembling. Noting in his margent, A rare expression. As rare as non sense. trembling; and it feared, like the death, to bee restrained of the swinge of custome, which made it pine a­way even to the very death.

CHAP. 8. What he did in the Garden.

1. IN the middest then of all this vast tempest of my [Page 458] inner house, which I had so stou [...] ­ly rais'd up against mine owne soule, in our Chamber, my heart; all over troubled both in minde and countenance, upon Alipius I set, with open mouth crying out, What tarry we any longer? what is this? what heardest thou even now? The unlearned of the world start up and take the Kingdome by violence, and wee with all our learning wan­ting heart, see how wee wallow us in flesh and blood. Because others are gone before, is it a shame for us to come after? or is it not rather a great shame not at all to goe after them? Some such words as these I then utte­red, but what I know not: and in that heate away I flung from him, while with silence and a­stonishment, hee wisely lookt upon mee. For my speeches sounded not now, in the kay they were wont to doe: yea my forehead, my cheekes, my eies, [Page 459] my colour, and the accent of my voyce, spake out my mind more emphatically, than the words did which I uttered.

2. A Garden there was be­longing to our lodging, which we had the liberty of, as well as of any other part of the house; for the master of the house our hoast, lived not there: Thither had the tempest within my brest now hurried me, where no man might come to non-suit that firy action which I had en­tered against my selfe, untill it came to a good issue; but which way, God thou knowest, I doe not. Onely I was for the time most soberly madde, and I dy­ed vitally; sensible enough what piece of misery for the present I now was, but utterly ignorant, how good I shortly was to grow. Into that Garden went I, and Alipius followed mee foot by foot: for I had no se­cret retiring place if hee were [Page 460] neere; or when did he ever for­sake me, when he perceiv'd me to be ill disposed. Downe wee sate us; as farre yet from the house as possibly we could. I fretted in the spirit, angry at my selfe with a most tempestuous indignation for that I went not about to make my peace and league with thee my God, which all my bones cryed out upon me to doe, extolling it to the ve­ry skies. A businesse it is which we goe not about, carried unto in Shippes, or Chariots, or upon our own legges, no not so small a part of the way to it, as I had comen from the house, into that place, where wee were now sit­ting.

3. For, not to goe towards onely, but to arrive fully at that place, required no more but the Will to goe to it, but yet to Will it resolutely and throughly; not to stagger and tumble downe an halfe wounded Will, now on [Page 461] this side, and anon on that side; setting the part advancing it selfe, to struggle with another part that is a falling. Finally, in these vehement passions of my delay, many of those things performed I with my body, which men sometimes would doe, but can­not; if either they have not the limbs to doe them withall; or if those limbs bee bound with cords, weakened with infirmi­ty, or be any other waies hinde­red. If I teare my selfe by the haire, beate my forehead, if loc­king my fingers one within a­nother, I beclasped my knee; all this I did because I would. But I might have willed it, and yet not have done it, if so be the motion of my limbs, had not beene pliable enough to have performed it. So many things therefore I now did, at such time as the Will was not all one with the Power; and something on the other side I [Page 462] then did not, which did incom­parably more affect mee with pleasure, which yet so soone as I had the Will to doe, I had the Power also; because so soone as ever I willed, I willed it through­ly: for at such a time the Power is all one with the Will; and the willing is now the doing: and yet was not the thing done. And more easily did my body obey the weakest willing of my soules in the moving of its limbs at her beck; then my soule had obeyed its selfe in this point of her great contentment, which was to receive perfection in the Will alone.

CHAP. 9. Why the soule is so slow to good­nesse.

1. VVHence now is this monster? and to what purpose? Let thy mercy [Page 463] enlighten mee that I may put this question; if so be those con­cealed anguishes which men feele, and those most undiscove­rable pangs of contrition of the sonnes of Adam, may perhaps afford mee a right answer? Whence is this monster? and to what end? The soule com­mands the body, and is present­ly obeyed: the soule commands it selfe, and is resisted. The soule gives the word, commanding the hand to be moved; and such readinesse there is, that the in­stant of command, is scarcely to be discerned from the moment of execution. Yet the soule is the soule, whereas the hand is of the body. The soule com­mands, that the soule would Will a thing; nor is the soule another thing from the soule, and yet o­beyes it not the command. Whence is this monster? and to what purpose? The soule (I say) commands that it selfe would [Page 464] Will a thing, which never would give the command, unlesse it willed it: yet is not that done, which it commanded.

2. But it willeth not entirely: therefore doth it neither com­mand entirely. For so farre forth it commandeth, as it willeth: and, so farre forth is not the thing done, which is comman­ded, as it willeth it not. Because, the Will commandeth that there In this and the former Chapter, hath the o­ther Tran­slator beene a Transla­tor indeed; that is, a very Cob­ler. be a Will; not another will but the same. Because verily it doth not command fully, therefore is not the thing done, which it commanded. For were the wil­ling full, it would never com­mand there should be a Willing, because that Willing was extant before. Tis therefore no mon­ster partly to Will, and partly to Nill; onely an infirmity of the soule it is, that it being over­loaded with ill custome, cannot entirely rise up together, though supported by Ʋerity. Hence is [Page 465] it that there be two Wills, for that one of them is not entire: and the one is supplied with that, wherein the other is de­fective.

CHAP. 10. The will of man is various.

1. LEt them perish out of thy sight O GOD, as those vaine bablers, and those sedu­cers He confutes the Mani­chees. of the soule doe perish: who when as they did observe that there were two Wills in the act of deliberating; affirmed thereupon, that there are two kindes of natures, of two kinds of soules, one good, and the o­ther bad. Themselves are truly bad, when as they beleeve these bad opinions: and the same men shall then become good, when they shall come to beleeve true opinions, and shall consent unto the true, that the Apostle may [Page 466] say unto them, yee were some­times darkenesse, but now are ye Eph. 5. 8. light in the Lord. But these fellowes would be light indeed, not in the Lord, but in them­selves; imagining the nature of the soule, to bee the same, that God is. Thus are they made more grosse darkenesse, for that they went backe farther from thee, through a horrid arrogan­cie; from thee, the true light that enlightneth every man that Iohn 3. 9. cometh into this world. Take heed what you say, and blush for shame: draw neere unto him and be enlightned, and your fa­ces shall not bee ashamed. My Psal. 34. 5. selfe when sometime I delibera­ted upon serving of the Lord my God, (I had long purposed) it was I my selfe who willed it, and I my selfe who nilled it. I, was I my selfe; I neither willed entirely, nor yet nilled entirely. Therefore was I at strife with my selfe, and ruinated by mine [Page 467] owne selfe. Which ruining be­fell me much against my minde, nor yet shewed it forth the na­ture of another mans minde, but the punishment of mine owne. I therefore my selfe was not the causer of it, but the sinne that dwelt in me: and that as a pu­nishment of that farre spreading sinne of Adam, whose sonne I was.

2. For if there bee so many contrary natures in man, as there be Wills resisting one another; there shall not now be two na­tures alone, but many. Suppose a man should deliberate with himselfe, whether he should goe to their Conventicle, or goe see a Play; presently these Mani­chees cry out, Behold, here are 2 natures: one good, which leades this way; and another bad, which drawes that way. For whence else is this mammering of the wills thus thwarting one another? But I answer, that both [Page 468] these Wills be bad: that as ill, which carries to their Conven­tiele; as the other, which leades unto the Theater. But they will not beleeve that Will to be other than good, which brings men to them. Suppose then one of us should deliberate, and through the dispute of his two Wills should be in a quandary, whether hee should goe see a Play, or come to our Church; would not these Manichees be as much in a quandary what to answer? For either they must confesse, (which by their good wills they will never grant) That the Will which leades to our Church is the better, as it is in them which goe to their Church, who are partakers of her sacraments, and detained in her obedience: or else must they suppose that there be two evill natures, and two evill soules in one man, which combat one a­nother: or must they (lastly) be [Page 469] converted to the truth, and no more deny, that in the Act of one mans deliberation, there is one soule destracted betweene two contrary Wills. Let them no more say therefore, that when as they perceive two wills to bee contrary one to another in the same party, that there bee two contrary soules, made of two contrary substances, from two contrary principles, one good, and the other bad, contending one with another.

3. For thou, O true God, doest disprove, check, and con­vince them; like as when both wills being bad, a man delibe­rates with himselfe, whether he should kill a man by poyson, or by the Sword? whether hee should take in this piece, or that, of another mans ground; when as he cannot doe both? whether hee should purchase pleasure, with prodigality, or keepe close his money, by covetousnesse? [Page 470] whether hee should goe to the Chariot-race, or to the Sword-playes, if they were both to be seene upon one day? I adde also a third instance; whether hee should rob another mans house, had he the opportunity? and a fourth I add, or whether he shold commit adultery, had hee the meanes? it being presupposed, that all these concurred in the same instant of time, and that all these acts bee equally desired, which cannot possibly be all at one time acted.

4. For verily they tare in sunder the soule amongst foure severall Wills, cleane contrary to one another: yea, in such va­riety of things which are desira­ble, perchance among more than foure: yet use they not to af­firme that there is any such mul­titude of divers substances. Thus also is it in such Wils as are good. For I demand of them, whether it be a good thing to be delighted [Page 471] in reading of the Apostle? and, whether it be a good mind to be delighted in a sober Psalme? or, whether it be a good art to dis­course upon the Gospell? They will answere to each of these, That it is good. What now if all these equally delight us, and all together at the same time? Doe not divers Wills then rack the minde as it were, when as a man is deliberating, to which of all these he should chiefly be­take him? yet are all these Wills good, although they all contend with one another; till such time as one of the three bee made choice of, towards which the whole Will may be carried, be­ing now united, which was be­fore divided into many. Thus also, when as eternity delights the superior parts, and the plea­sure of some temporal good holds fast the inferiour; it is but one and the same soule which wil­leth not This or That with an [Page 472] intire Will; and is therefore torne a sunder with grievous perplexities, whilest it preferres This, overswayed by Truth; yet forbeares not That, made familiar to it by Custome.

CHAP. 11. The combat in him betwixt the Spirit and the flesh.

1. THus soule-sicke I was, and in this manner tor­mented; accusing my selfe much more eagerly than I was wont, turning and winding my selfe in my chain, till that which held mee might bee utterly broken; which though but little, yet held it me fast enough notwith­standing. And thou, O Lord, pressedst upon me in my inward parts by a most severe mercy, redoubling thy lashes of feare and shame, lest I should give way againe, and lest the brea­king [Page 473] off of that small and slender Tye, which now onely was left, should recover strength a­gaine, and hamper mee againe the faster. For I sayd within my selfe, Behold, let it be done now, let it bee done forthwith. And no sooner had I said the word, but that I beganne to put on the resolution. Now I even almost did it, yet indeed I did it not: yet notwithstanding fell The difficul­ty of Con­version rarely ex­pressed. I not quite backe to my old wont, but stood in the degree next to it, to fetch new breath as it were. Yea, I set upon it againe, and I wanted but very little of getting up to it, and within a very little, even by and by obtained I to touch and to lay hold of it; and yet could I not get up to it, nor come to touch, or lay full hold of it: still fea­ring to dye unto death, and to live unto life: and the worse which I had beene an­ciently [Page 474] accustomed unto, pre­vail'd more with mee than the better, which I had never tryed: yea, the very instant of time, wherein I was to become ano­ther man, the neerer it approacht to me, the greater horror did it strike into me. But for all this did it not strike me utterly back, nor turn'd mee quite off, but kept mee in suspence onely.

2. The very toyes of all toyes, and vanities of vanities (those ancient favcurites of mine) were they which so fast with-held me; they shooke me by this fleshly garment, and spake softly in mine eare, Canst thou thus part with us? and See the blan­dishments of Sinne. shall we no more accompany thee from this time forth for ever? and from this time forth shall it no more bee lawfull for thee to doe This or That for ever? And what were those things which they suggested to mee in that phrase This or That, (as I [Page 475] said) what were those which they suggested, O my GOD? Such, as let thy mercy utterly turne away from the soule of thy servant. Oh what impuri­ties! oh what most shamefull things did they suggest! I heard Here hath the former Translator missed the sexse, in reading Contradi­cens for Contradi­centes, and Disce­dens for Disceden­tes. them verily not halfe so neere hand now, nor now so freely contradicting and opposing me; but muttering as it were softly behinde my back, and even now ready to be packing, yet giving me a privy pluck to looke once more backe againe upon them: yet for all this did they make mee now againe delaying the time, much slower in snatching away my selfe, and in shaking them off, and in leaping from them, to the place I was called unto; namely, when as violent custome thus rowned me in the eare, Thinkest thou to be ever able to live without This or That.

3. But by this time it spake [Page 476] but very faintly: for on that side which I set my face to­wards, and whither I trembled to goe, was that chast dignity of Continency discovered; cheer­full she was, but not dissolutely pleasant, honestly tempting me to come to her, and doubt no­thing: yea stretching forth those devout hands of hers, so full of the multitudes of good ex­amples; both to receive, and to embrace me. There were in company with her very many both Yongmen, and Maidens, a multitude of youth & of all ages: both grave widdowes and an­cient Virgins, and Continence her selfe in the middest of them all, not barren altogether, but a happy Mother of Children of Ioyes, by thee her husband, O Lord. And shee was pleasant with me with a kinde of exhor­ting quip, as if she should have said, Canst not thou performe what these of both sexes have [Page 477] performed? or can any of these I am afraid, that God makes not all the Fryers and Nuns amongst the Papists. I doubt all have not the gift of Continencie: wee have exam­ples to the contrary. Formall vowes, but materiall breaches of chastity. Vowing, and yet bur­ning. performe thus much of them­selves, or rather by the Lord their GOD? The Lord their God gave me unto them. Why standest thou upon thine owne strength, and standest not at all? Cast thy selfe upon Him, feare not, Hee will not slippe a­way and make thee fall; Cast thyselfe securely upon Him, He will receive thee, and Hee will heale thee. I blusht all this while to my selfe very much, for that I yet heard the muttering of those toyes, and that I yet hung in suspence. Whereunto Continence againe replyed, Stop thine eares against those uncleane members of thine which are up­on the earth, that they may bee Col. 3. 5. mortified. They tell thee of de­lights indeed, but not such as the law of the Lord thy God tels thee of. This was the controversie I felt in my heart, about nothing but my selfe, against my selfe. But [Page 478] Alipius sitting by my side, in si­lence expected the issue of my unaccustomed sullevation.

CHAP. 12. How hee was converted by a Voyce.

1. SO soone therefore as a deepe consideration even from the secret bottome of my soule, had drawne together and laid all my misery upon one heape before the eyes of my heart; there rose up a mighty storme, bringing as mighty a showre of teares with it, which that I might powre forth with such expressions as suted best with them, I rose from Alipius: for I conceived that solitarinesse was more fit for a businesse of weeping. So farre off then I went, as that his presence might not be troublesome unto mee. Thus disposed was I at that [Page 479] time, and he thought, I know not what, of it; something I beleeve, I had said before, which discovered the sound of my voyce to be bigge with wee­ping, and in that case I rose from him. He thereupon staid alone where wee sate together most extremely astonished. I slung downe my selfe I know not how, under a certaine Fig-tree, giving all liberty to my teares: whereupon the floods of mine eyes gushed out, an acceptable acceptable sacrifice to thee, O Lord. And though not per­chance in these very words, yet much to this purpose, said I un­to thee; And thou, O LORD, how long? how long Lord wilt thou bee angry, for ever? Remember not our former ini­quities: for I found my selfe to be still enthralled by them. Yea, I sent up these miserable excla­mations, How long? how long? still to morrow, and to morrow? [Page 480] Why not now? wherefore even this very houre is there not an end put to my uncleannesse?

2. Thus much I uttered, wee­ping among in the most bitter contrition of my heart: when as behold, I heard a voyce from some neighbour house, as it had beene of a Boy or Girle I know not whether, in a singing tune saying, and often repeating, TAKE VP AND READE, TAKE VP AND READE. His conver­sion by a voyce from Heaven. Instantly changing my counte­nance thereupon, I beganne ve­ry heedfully to bethinke my selfe, whether children were wont in any kinde of playing to sing any such words: nor could I remember my selfe ever to have heard the like. Where­upon refraining the violent tor­rent of my teares, up I gat mee; interpreting it no other way, but that I was from God him­selfe commanded, To open the booke, and to read that Chapter [Page 481] which I should first light upon. For I had heard of Anthony, that by hearing of the Gospell which he once came to the rea­ding of, he tooke himselfe to be admonished, as if what was read, had purposely beene spo­ken unto him. By this it appeares that all Popish Fry [...]rs are not divinely called, For that so few elder bro­thers take the Vow. Few rich el­der brothers that sell al; many poore younger bro­thers that have spent all. So that a Mona­stery, is lit­tle other than an Hospitall for the not­sicke. They sell not all to to goe in; but goe in when they have sold & spent all. Goe, and sell that thou hast, and give to the poore, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven, and come and follow mee. And by such a miracle was hee presently converted unto thee.

3. Hastily therefore went I againe to that place where Ali­pius was sitting; for there had I laid the Apostles Booke when as I rose from thence. I snatcht it up, I opened it, and in silence I read that Chapter which I first cast mine eyes upon: Not in rioting and drunkennesse, not in chambering and wantonnesse, not in strife and envying: But put ye on the Lord Iesus Christ; and make not provision for the Mat. 19. 21. Ro. 13. 13. [Page 482] flesh, to fulfill the lusts thereof. No further would I reade; nor needed I: For instantly even with the end of this sentence, by a light as it were of security now datted into my heart, all the darkenesse of doubting vanished away. Shutting up the booke thereupon, and putting my finger betweene, or I know not what other marke, with a well quieted countenance I discovered all this unto Alipi­us.

4. And he againe in this man­ner revealed unto me, what also was wrought in his heart, which I verily knew nothing of. Hee requested to see what I had read: I shewed him the place; and he lookt further than I had read, nor knew I what followed. This followed, Him that is weake Rom. 14. 1. in the Faith, receive: which hee applyed to himselfe, and shewed it me. And by this ad­monition was he strengthened, [Page 483] and unto that good resolution and purpose (which was most agreeable to his disposition, wherein he did alwaies very far differ from mee, to the better) without all turbulent delaying did he now apply himselfe. From thence went we into the house unto my mother; we discover our selves, she rejoyces for it: we declare in order how every thing was done: she leapes for joy, and triumpheth, and blesseth thee, who art able to doe above that which wee aske or thinke; For that she perceived thee to have given her more concerning me, than she was wont to beg by her pittifull and most dolefull groa­nings. For so throughly thou convertedst me unto thy selfe, as that I sought now no more after a Wife, nor any other hopes in this world: thus being setled in the same rule and line of Faith, in which thou hadst shewed me unto her in a vision, so many [Page 484] yeeres before This visi­on mentio­ned lib. 3. cap. 11. She saw in Tegula lignea, as I read it in stead of Re­gula, as here it is. I was war­ranted to read it so, by my manuscript. And the Critieisme may passe: For besides that S. August. uses to play upon the words, (Tegula and Regula, lignea, and Linea) not improbable it is that his mother was then on the toppe of the house praying, when she had her vision. There did S. Peter pray and had his vision, Acts 10. 9. But I presse not this. Sure it is that the Rule of Faith, signified the Creed in those daies. So that she vision assured her, that her sonne should be of her Beleefe.. Thus didst thou convert her mourning into re­joycing, and that much more plentifully than she had desired, and that much more dearely and a chaster way, than she erst re­quired: namely, if shee had re­ceived, Grandchildren of my bo­dy.

CHAP. 1. Hee praiseth Gods goodnesse; and acknowledgeth his owne wretchednesse.

O Lord, truely I am thy servant, Psal. 116. 16, 17. I am thy ser­vant, and the son of thy hand­maid, thou hast broken my bonds in sunder. I will offer to thee the sacrifice [Page 486] of praise. Let my heart praise thee and my tongue; yea let all my bones say, O Lord who is like unto thee? Let them say, and answer thou me, And say unto my soule, I am thy salvati­on. Psal. 35. 10. Who am I, and what man­ner of man? What evill have not I been? either my deeds e­vill; or if not them, yet have my words been evill; or if not them, yet was my Will evill. But thou, O LORD, art good and mercifull, and thy right hand had respect unto the profound­nesse of my death, and drew forth of the bottome of my heart, that bottomelesse gulfe of corruption: which was, to nill all that thou willedst, and to will all that thou nilledst.

2. But where was that right hand so long a time, and out of what bottome and deepe secret corner, was my Free-will called forth in a moment, whereby I submitted my necke to thy easie Math. 11. 30. [Page 487] yoke, and my shoulders unto thy light burthen, O Iesus Christ, my helper and my Re­deemer? Psal. 19. 14. How pleasant was it all on the sudden made unto me, to want the sweets of those Toyes? Yea, what I before fea­red to lose, was now a joy unto me to forgoe. For thou didst cast them away from me, even thou that true & chiefest sweet­nesse. Thou threwest them out, and instead of them camest in thy selfe, sweeter than all plea­sure, though not to flesh and blood; brighter than all light; yea more privy than all secrets; higher than all honour; though not to the high in their owne conceipts. Now became my soule free from those biting cares of aspiring, and getting, and weltring in filth, and scratching off that itch of lust. And I tal­ked more familiarly now with thee my honour, and my riches, and my health, my Lord God.

CHAP. 2. Hee gives over his teaching of Rhetoricke.

1. ANd I resolved in thy sight, though not tu­multuously to snatch away, yet fairely to with-draw, the service of my tongue from those marts of lip-labour: that young stu­dents, (no students in thy Law, nor in thy peace, but in lying dotages, and law-skirmishes,) should no longer buy at my mouth the engines for their own madnesse. And very seasonably fell it out, that it was but a few daies unto the Vacation In harvest and vintage time had the Lawyers their vaca­tion. So Minutius Felix. Schollers their Non Terminus, as here: yea Divinity Lectures and Catechisings then ceased. So Cyprian, Epist. 2. The Law-tearmes give way al­so to the great Festivals of the Church. Theodosius forbade any Processe to goe out frō 15. daies before Ea­ster till the Sunday after. For the 4. Termes, see Ca­roli Calvi. Capitula, Act. 8. pag. 90. of [Page 489] the Ʋintage: till when I resol­ved to endure them, that I might then take my leave the more so­lemnely; when, being bought off by thee, I purposed to re­turne no more to be their merce­nary. Our purpose therefore was knowne onely unto thee; but to men, other than our owne friends, was it not known. For we had agreed among our selves not to disclose it abroad to any body: although us, now as­cending from the valley of teares, and singing that He alludes to De pro­fundis. song of de­grees, hadst thou armed with sharp arrows, & hot burning coles to destroy such subtle tongues, Psal. 130. 1. as would crosse us in our pur­pose by seeming to advise us, and make an end of us, pretend­ing to love us, as men doe with their meat: Thou hadst shot thorough our hearts with thy charity, and wee carried thy words as it were sticking in our bowels: and the examples of [Page 490] thy servants, whom of blacke, thou hadst made bright; and of Here the Popish Tran­slator talkes of a Bea­con, doe you see any? dead, alive. Which charity and examples being piled together in the bosome of our thoughts, did burne and utterly consume that lumpish slothfulnesse of ours, that wee might no more be plung'd into the deepes by it. Yea, they set us on fire so vehe­mently, as that all the blasts of the subtle tongues of gain-saying might inflame us the more fierce­ly, but never extinguish us.

2. Neverthelesse, because of thy Name which thou hast sanctified throughout the earth; and that our desire and purpose might likewise finde commen­ders: it would, I feared, looke something too like oftentation for me not to expect the time of vacation now so neere; but be­fore-hand, to give over my pub­like Profession which every man had an eye upon; and that the mouths of all the beholders, be­ing [Page 491] turned upon my fact (where­by I should desire to goe off be­fore the time of Vintage so neere approaching) would give it out, that I did it purposely, affecting to appeare some great man. And to what end would it have ser­ved me, to have people censure and dispute upon my purpose, and to have our good to be evill spoken of? Furthermore, for Rom. 14. 16. that in the Summer time my lungs began to decay with my over-much paines-taking in my Schoole, and to breath with dif­ficulty, and by the paine in my breast to signifie themselves to be spending; and to refuse too lowd, or too long speaking: I had been much troubled here­tofore at the matter, for that (namely) I was constrained even upon necessity, to lay downe that burthen of Teaching; of if in case I could possibly be cured and grow sound againe, at least for a while to forbeare it. But [Page 492] so soone as this full resolution to give my selfe leasure, and to see, how that thou art the Lord; first arose, and was afterwards setled in me: God thou know­est how I began to rejoyce, that I had this, and that no unfained excuse, which might something take off the offence taken by such parties, who for their chil­drens good, would by their good wills that I should never have given over schooling.

3. Full therefore of such like joy, I held out till that Interim of time were runne. I know not well whether there might bee some twenty dayes of it; yet I couragiously under-went them. But for that covetousnesse (which was wont to beare part of the weight of my businesse) had now quite left mee, I should have utterly been oppressed, had not patience stept up in its roome. Some of thy servants, my brethren, may say perchance, [Page 493] that I sinned in this; for that be­ing with full consent of heart en­rold thy souldier, I suffered my selfe to sit one houre in the chaire of lying. And for my part I cannot defend my selfe. But hast not thou, O most mercifull Lord, both pardoned and re­mitted this, amongst other most horrible and deadly sinnes, in the holy water of Baptisme?

CHAP. 3. Verecundus lends them his Countrey-house.

1. VErecundus became leane againe with vexing at himselfe upon this good hap of ours, for that being detained by some engagements, by which he was most strongly obliged; hee saw himselfe likely to lose our company, as being not yet a Christian, though his wife were indeed baptized. And by [Page 494] her as being a clogge that hung closer to him than all the rest, was hee chiefly kept from that journey which wee now inten­ded. And a Christian he would not (as hee said) be any other wayes made, than by that way, which he as yet could not. How­ever, most courteously in truth did he proffer us, that we might freely make use of his Countrey house, so long as we meant to stay there. Thou, O Lord, shalt reward him for it in the resur­rection of the Iust, seeing thou hast already rendered to him the lot of mortality. For although it was in our absence, as being then at Rome, that he was taken with a bodily sicknesse; yet de­parted he this life, being both made a Christian Christi­anus & fi­delis fa­ctus: and before, Nondum Christia­nus, con­juge fide­li. By this appeares the Primitive order to make and call them Christians before they were bap­tized. And that what ever degree of faith they had, yet did they not call them faithfull, till they were baptized. After which, though they proved Energumeni, to be possessed with a Divell, yet still they called them Faithfull. Nothing lost them that name, but excommunication onely., and bap­tized. [Page 495] also. Thus hadst thou mercy, not upon him onely, but upon us also; lest wee remembring our selves of the humanity re­ceived from our friend; and not allowed to reckon him in the number of thy Flock, should be tortured with intolerable sorrow for him.

2. Thankes unto thee, O our God, wee are now thine: Thy inspirations and consolations tell us so. Thou, O faithfull promi­ser, shalt repay Ʋerecundus for his Countrey house of Cassi­acum, where from the troubles of the world we rested our selves in thee with the pleasantnesse of thy Paradise which is ever greene: for that thou hast for­given him his sinnes upon earth, in that mountaine In mon­te Cassia­to, In the Mountains where Cas­sia and Spi­ces grow. See Can­tic. 8. 14. Cassiato better an­swers to Cassiaco, than Inca­scato does, which the printed Co­pies read. of spices, thine owne mountaine, that fruitfull mountaine. Ʋerecun­dus therefore was much perplex­ed, but Nebridius was as joyfull as wee. For although when as [Page 496] he was not yet a Christian, hee had falne into the same pit of most pernicious error with us, be­leeving the flesh of thy Sonne to be fantasticall: yet getting out from thence, he beleeved as wee did; not as yet entered into any sacraments of thy Church, but a most zealous searcher out of the truth. Whom, not long af­ter our conversion and regenera­tion by thy Baptisme, being al­so baptized in the Catholike Faith, serving thee in perfect cha­stity and continence amongst his owne friends in Africa, having first converted his whole family unto Christianity, didst thou take out of the flesh; and now he lives in the bosome of Abraham.

3. Whatsoever that estate be, which is signified by that bo­some, there lives Nebridius my sweet friend, thy child, O Lord, adopted of a freed-man, lives there. For what other place is there for such a soule? [Page 497] In that place he lives, concer­ning which hee sometimes de­manded of me unskilfull man, so many questions. Now layes he his eare no longer unto my mouth; but layes his spirituall mouth unto thy fountaine, and drinketh as much of Wisedome as he is able to containe, propor­tionable to his thirst; now with­out end happy. Nor doe I yet thinke that he is so inebriated with it, as Here the Popish Tran slaior notes, that Au­gustine thought Nebridius prayed for him. Is here any word of prayer? may not the Saints in generall re­member us, and what passed betwixt us and them at the time of their death; and yet not pray for us? especially not for our secret and particular wants, and things done since their death. The place better proves the Communion of Saints, than the Prayers of the Saints. to forget me; see­ing thou, O Lord, of whom hee drinketh, art still mindfull of us Thus fared it then with us: sor­rowfull Ʋerecundus wee com­forted, reserving our friendship entire notwithstanding our con­version; and exhorting him to continue in the fidelity of his degree, namely of his married [Page 498] estate. Nebridius we stayed for, expecting when he would fol­low us, which being so neere he might well doe: and even now hee was about to doe it, when behold those daies of Interim were at length come to an end. For long and many they seemed unto me; even for the love I bare to that easefull liberty: that we might sing unto thee out of all our bowels, My heart hath said unto thee, I have sought Psal. 27. 8. thy face, thy face Lord will I seeke.

CHAP. 4. What things he wrote with Ne­bridius.

1. NOw was the day come, wherein I was actually to be discharged of my Rheto­ricke Professorship, from which in my thoughts I was already discharged. And done it was. [Page 499] And thou deliveredst my tongue whence thou hadst before deli­vered my heart. And I blessed thee for it, rejoycing in my selfe; I and mine going all into the Countrey. What there in point of learning I did, (which was now wholly at thy service, though yet sorely panting, and out of breath as it were, in fol­lowing the Schoole He means that though he wrote of Divinity, yet could be not so soone meane his Stile, from Inke-horne Termes and affected flowers of Oratory. For which he al­so complaines of Alipius by and by. of pride) my bookes may witnesse, both those which I disputed with my friends present, and those which I composed alone with my selfe, before thee: and what inter­course I had with Nebridius now absent, my Epistles can re­stifle. And when shall I have time enough to make rehearsall of all the great benefits which thou at that time bestowedst upon me, especially seeing I am now making hast to tell of grea­ter matters? For my remem­brance now calls upon me, and most pleasant it is to me, O [Page 500] Lord, to confesse unto thee, by what inward prongs thou hast thus tamed mee; and how thou hast taken mee downe, by bringing low those mountaines and hils of my high imaginati­ons, This is the beginning of all conversi­on, Gods beating a man from his owne fleshly wise­dome, pride, and errours. Thus Iohn Baptist first prea­ched Christ Luk. 3. 4. and madest my crookednesse straight, and my rough waies smooth. And by what meanes thou also subduedst that bro­ther of my love, Alipius, un­to the name of thy onely begot­ten Sonne our Lord and Sa­viour Iesus Christ, which he at first would not vouchsafe to have it put into our writings. For, rather would he have had them favour of the lofty Cedars of the Schooles, which the Lord had now broken downe; than of those wholesome hearbes of thy Church, which are so pow­erfull against Serpents.

2. Oh what passionate voyces sent I up unto thee, my God, when as I read the Psalmes of David (those faithfull songs:) [Page 501] Oh what sounds of devotion, quite excluding the swelling spi­rit of ostentation! when (name­ly) I was yet but Rude, was one of the Epithits of a Cate­chumenus. They were also stiled Novices, Raw-Sol­diers, Whelps of the Churche &c. Rude in my kindly loving of thee, as being [...]uta Catechumenus as yet in the Country, whither I had with­drawne my selfe, together with Alipius a Catechumenus also: and with my Mother likewise inseparably sticking unto us; in a womans habit verily; but with a masculine faith: voyd of worldly care as a woman in her yeeres should be, yet imploy­ing a matronely charity, and a Christian piety. Oh, what pas­sionate expressions made I unto thee in the reading of those Psalmes! Oh, how was I infla­med towards thee by them! yea, I was on fire to have resounded them (had I been able) in the hea­ring of the whole world, to the shame of the pride of mankind: though verily they be already sung all the world over, nor can [Page 502] any hide themselves from thy Psal. 19. 6. heate. With what vehement and bitter sorrow was I angred at the Manichees? whom yet againe I pittied, for that they knew nothing of those Sacra­ments, those Medicaments: and for that they were so madde at that Antidote, which had been able to recover them. I heartily wished they had beene some­where or other neere me (I not knowing that they did then heare me, or were then so neere me) that they might have be­held my face, and heard my words, when as I read the fourth Psalme in that time of my lea­sure, and how that Psalme wrought upon me.

3. When I called upon thee, thou heardest me, O God of my He exopoun­deth the 4. Psalme. righteousnesse, thou hast enlar­ged mee in my distresse. Have mercy upon mee, O Lord, and heare my prayer. That they might heare (I say) what I utte­red [Page 503] at the reading of these words, I not knowing whether they heard me or no, lest they should thinke I spake it purposely a­gainst them: Because in good truth, neither would I have spo­ken the same things, nor in the same manner, had I perceived them to have both heard and seene me. But had I so spoken, yet would not they so have un­derstood; how with my selfe, and to my selfe before thee, out of the familiar and ordinary af­fection of my soule, I quaked for feare, and boy led high againe Verse 2. with hope, and with rejoycing in thy mercy, O Father. And all these expressions of my selfe, passed forth both by mine eyes and voyce; at what time as thy good Spirit turning himselfe to­wards us, said, O yee sonnes of men how long will ye be Quous­que graves corde? These words be not now adaies ei­ther in the Hebrew or Vulgar, yet are they in Nazian­zen his tenth Orati­on. dull of heart? how long will yee love vanity, and seeke after leasing? For I my selfe had sometimes [Page 504] loved vanity, and sought after leasing: But thou, O Lord, hast Verse 3. magnified him that is godly; raising him from the dead, and placing him at thy Right hand, whence from on high hee should send his promise, the Comforter the Spirit of truth. The Mani­chaeant ac­knowledged not the Ho­ly Ghost, but held Manichae­us to be the Paraclete and Com­forter. And he had sent him already, but I knew it not.

4. He had already sent him; because he was now exalted by rising from the dead, and ascen­ding up into heaven. For till then, The Holy Ghost was not given, because Iesus was not yet glorified. And the Prophet cryes out, How long, O yee slow of heart? Why will ye love vanity and seeke after leasing? Know this, that the Lord hath set a­part his Holy one. He cryes out How long; he cryes out, Know this: whereas I so long igno­rant, have loved vanity, and sought after leasing: yea, I both heard and trembled, because it [Page 505] was spoken vnto such, as I re­mēbred my selfe somtimes to haue beene. For verily in those Phantasticall fictions which I once held for truths, was there both vanity and leasing: wherefore I roared out many things sorrow fully & strange­ly, whilst I grieued at what I now remembred. All which I wish they had heard, who yet loue vanity and seeke after leasing: They would perchance haue beene troubled, and haue vomitted vp their poyson; and to Thou mightest haue heard them, when they cryed vnto thee: for Hee died a true death in the flesh for vs, who now maketh intercession vn­to thee for vs. I further reade, [...] angry, This also differs frō the He­brew. It seemes to be accor­ding to the 70. seing tis cited Eph. 4. 26. Ther were infinite La­tine Trans­lations of old, especi­ally of the Psalter, till S. Hieromes time. The Romanes vsed that of his, trans­lated out of the 70. which frō them was called Ro­man [...]: the French and Germans vsed that which he [...] by the 70 which Gregory Turonenst, [...] into France. This was killed Gallicana, Th [...] Church of M. [...]ne vsed St. Ambroses Transla­ [...]. See Rad. Tungrensis Propos. 8. he Church hath [...] vsed a Translation of the Psalter differen from the Bible, & so now does ours. and sinne not. [Page 506] And how was I moued, O my God, I who had then learned to bee angry at my selfe for things passed, that I might not sinne in time to come? Yea, to bee iustly angry; for that it was not any other na­ture of a different kinde of darknesse without me, which sinned: as the Manichees af­firme it to bee, who are not angry at themselues; and who treasure vp wrath against the day of wrath, and of the rene­lation Rom. 2. 5. of the iust iudgement of God. Nor indeede was my Good without me, nor to be caught with the eyes of flesh vnder the Sunne: seeing they that will take ioy in any thing without themselues, doe easily become vayne, and spill themselues vpon those things which are seene and are but temporally yea and with their hunger-starued thoughts like their very shadowes. And, [Page 507] oh that they were once wea­ried out with their hunger, and come once to say, Who will shew vs day good? Let vs Verse. 4. say so, and let them heare, The light of thy countenance is lif­ted Iohn 1. 9. vp vpon vs. For wee our selues are not that light which enlighteneth euery man that commeth into the world; but wee are enlightened by thee: as who hauing beene some times Eph. 5. 8. darknesse, may now be light in thee.

5. O that they might once [...] that Eternall Eight [...]; which for that my selfe had once tasted, I guashed my [...]th at them; because I was not able to make them see it: [...] not though they should [...] mee their heart in their [...] eyes, (which are euer [...] from thee) that so [...] might say, Who will shew Uerse. [...]. [...] good [...], euen [...] was [...] [Page 508] selfe in my chamber: being in­wardly pricked there; offe­ring my sacrifice there also, my Ʋerse 5. old man, and the meditation of my newnesse of life now begunne in mee: putting my trust in thee. There begannest thou to grow sweete vnto me, and to put gladnesse in my Ʋerse 7. heart. And I cryed out as I read this outwardly, finding this gladnesse inwardly. Nor would I bee any more encrea­sed with worldly goods; wa­sting away my time, and be­ing wasted by these temporall things; whereas I had in thy eternall simplicity a store layd vp, of Corne and Wine, and Oyle.

6. And with alowd cry of my heart called I out in the next verse, O in peace, O for that same peace! O what sayd hee, I will lay [...] downe and sleeps: Ʋerse. [...]. [...] hinder vs, when [...] saying shall be brought [Page 509] to passe which is written, Death is swallowed vp in vic­tory? And thou surpassingly 1 Cor. 15. 54. [...]t that same Rest, thou who art not changed, and in thee is that Rest which forgets all [...] labours; nor is there any other besides thee: no, nor hast thou appointed mee to seeke after those many o­ther things, which art not the same that thou art: but In safety, say our co­pyes now adayes. thou Lord, after a speciall manner hast made mee dwell in hope.

These things I read, and burnt againe; nor could I tell what to do to those deafe and dead This is better lan­guage then the Papists vse to giue the holy Scriptures. The popish Translater to auoyd this com­mendatiō trāslates i [...] doctrine. Manichees, of whom my selfe was sometimes a pestilent member, asnarling and a blind [...] against thy Scriptures, all behonyed ouer with the [...] of heauen, and all light­some with thine owne light: yea I consumed away with zeale at the enemies of these [Page 510] Scriptures, when as I cald to minde euery thing that I had done, in those dayes of my re­tirement.

7. Nor haue I yet forgot­ten, neyther will I passe in si­lence, the smartnesse of thy scourge, and the wonderfull swiftnesse of thy mercy. Thou didst in those dayes torment me with the Tooth-ach; which when it had growne so fierce vpon me, that I was not able to speake, it came into my heart to desire my friends pre­sent, to pray for me vnto thee, the God of all manner of health. And this I wrote in waxe, Here my former Translater notes the old kind of writing in Wax, and in dust. Waxe I allow: the Anci­ents play­stered it thinne vp­on boords, and wrote with steele bodkins, by pricket or strockes. But for dust, see our note vp­on lib. 4. cap. 16. and gaue it to them to read. Immediately, so soone as with an humble deuotion wee had bowed our knees, that payne went away. But what payne? or how went it [Page 511] away? I was much affrayed, O my Lord, my God; seeing from mine infancy I had neuer felt the like. And thou gauest me a secret Item by this, how powerfull thy Beck was; for which I much reioycing in sayth, gaue praise vnto thy name. And that sayth suffered mee not to bee secure, in the remembrance of my fore­passed sinnes, which hitherto were not for giuen mee by thy Baptisme.

CHAP. 5. Ambrose directs him what bookes to read.

1. AT the end of the vin­tage, I gaue the Citi­zens of Millane faire warning to prouide their schollers of another Master to sell words to them; for that I had made [Page 512] choyce to serue thee; and for that by reason of my difficul­ty of breathing, and the paine in my brest, I was not able to goe on in the Professorship. And by letters I signified to that Prelate of thine, the holy man Ambrose, my former errors and presentresolution, desiring him to aduise mee what part of thy Scriptures were best for my reading, to make me readier and fitter for the receyuing of so great a grace. He recommended E­saias the Prophet to mee: for this reason, I beleeue, for that hee is a more cleare fore­shewer of the Gospell, and of the calling of the Gentiles, then are the rest of the Pro­phets. But I, not vnderstand­ing the first part of him, and imagining all the rest to bee like that, layd it by, inten­ding to fall to it againe, when I were better practized in [Page 513] our Lords Scriptures.

CHAP. 6. He is baptized at Millane.

1. VVHen the time was come, wherein They were bap­tized at Easter, and gaue vp their names be­fore the 2 ^d Sunday in Lent: The rest of which, they were to spend in fasting, hu­mility, prayer, and being examined in the Scrutenyes. Tertul: lib. de Bape [...]. [...] Therefore went they to Millane, that the Bishop might see their preparation. Adioyning to the Cathedralls, were there certaine lower hou­ses for them to lodge and be exercised in, till the day of baptisme. Eusbe. lib. 10. c. 4. I was to giue in my name, wee remooued out of the Coun­try vnto Millane. Alipius also was for company resol­ued to bee borne againe in thee; as hauing by this time put on such humility, as is [...]itting for thy Sacraments: and being become so valiant [...] [...]amer of his owne body, as euen to weare the frostie earth of Italy with his bare [Page 514] feete This is (I beleeue) the ancien­test exam­ple of any good man that the bare-footed Friers can produce, for this de­uout Will-worship. St. Austen did it not, but censured other bare-footed deuo­toes, for hereticks. Libro de Haeres. cap. 68. with an vnusuall vnder­taking. We tooke along with vs the boy Adeodatus, car­nally begorten by me in forni­cation. Thy part of him was well made vp: for being now but almost fifteene yeeres of age, he for wit excelled many agraue and learned man. I con­fesse vnto thee thine owne gifts, O Lord my God, Crea­tor of all, who art abundantly able to reforme all our de­fects: for I had no part in this boy, but the sinne: for that we brought him vp in thy feare, twas thou, and none else, that inspired vs. I confesse thine owne gifts vnto thee. There is a booke of ours extant, cal­led The Masters: a dialogue it is betwixt him and me: God thou knowest, that all these conceits are his owne, which goe there vnder the name of him that discourses with me. When hee was once sixteene [Page 515] yeeres old, I had tryall of ma­ny more admirable abilities of his. His great wit strooke a kinde of horror into mee. And who but thy selfe can bee the workmaster of such wonders?

2. Soone didst thou take his life from off the earth; and so much the more securer doe I now remember him, for that I feare nothing committed eyther in his Childhood or Youth, nor any thing at all in him. Him we tooke along to make as old as our selues in grace, and to bee brought vp according to thy discipline; and baptized wee were toge­ther; instantly vpon which, all anguish of minde for our former ill-led life, vanished away. Nor could I be satisfied in those dayes, while with admirable sweetenesse I con­sidered vpon the deepenesse of thy counsailes concerning [Page 516] the saluation of Mankinde. How abundantly did I weep, to heare these Hymnes and Canticles of thine, being toucht to the very quicke by the voyces of thy sweete Church-song! The voyces flowed into mine eares, and thy Truth pleasingly distilled into my heart, which caused the affections of my deuotion to ouerflow, and my teares to runne ouer, and happy did I find my selfe therein.

CHAP. 7. A persecution in the Church miraculously diuerted.

1. NOt long before had the Church of Mil­lane beganne to celebrate this kinde of consolation and ex­hortation, and that with the great delight of the Brethren, [Page 517] singing together both with voyce and hearts. For about a yeere it was, or not much aboue, that Iustina, mother to the Emperour Valentinian, prosecuted thy seruant Am­brose, in fauour of her heresie, to which she was seduced by the Most pro­bable it is, that the Te Deum was now made, because it is so direct a confessiō of the Tri­nity, oppug­ned by the Arrians. Tis a Creed set Hymn­wise, belee­ued to bee made by S. Ambrose, & S. Austen. Arriane; the deuout people watched day and night in the Church, ready to dye with their Bishop, thy seruant: where my [...] thy hand­maid, bearing a chiefe part of those troubles and watch­ings, euen liu'd by pray­er: yea wee also, not yet vn­frozen by the heate of thy spirit, were yet stirred vp by the example of the amazed and disquieted City. At this time was it here first institu­ted after the manner of the [...] Ignatius, who liued An. Christi 100. menti­ons singing in the East­erne Chur­ches. Epist. ad Remanos Quire-men onely were to singing the Church Anno 364. Concil. Lao­dic. Can [...]5. Churches, that Hymnes and Psalmes should bee sung, lest the people should waxe faint through the [Page 518] tediousnesse of Sorrow: which custome being retai­ned from that day to this, is still imitated by diuers, yea, almost by all thy Congrega­tions, throughout other parts of the world.

2. At that time didst thou by a vision discouer vnto thy forenamed Bishop, the place where the bodies of Ger [...]a­sins and Protasius the Martyrs didlye hid (whom thou hadst in the Treasury of thy secret, preserued vncorrupted so ma­ny yeeres) from whence thou mightst thus seasonably bring thē to light, to represse the fu­ry of this woman the Empresse: for when as they were once discouered and digd vp, and with due honors translated to Ambroses Church; not onely they who were vexed with vncleane, spirits (the deuils confessing themselues to bee so) were cured; but a [Page 519] certaine man also haning beene blinde many yeeres, (a wel­knowne Citizen of that Ci­ty) asking and hearing the reason of the peoples confu­sed ioy; sprang forth, desiring his guide to lead him thither: and being come to the place, requested the fauour, that with his handkerchiefe hee might touch the Beare of thy Saints, whose death is precious in thy sight. Which when hee Psa. 116 15 had done, and put vnto his eyes, they were forthwith opened. Herevpon was the same spred, hereupon were thy prayses The cure was ascri­bed to God, not to the Mar­tyrs, as now in Popery. zealously proclai­med to the view of the world, and hereupon was the minde of that enemy, though not brought to bee healed by be­leeuing, yet restrayned Another meanes did God raise vp, namely our Country­man Maximus, who comming with his Army of Brittaines into Italy, made her slee to Thessalonica. See Zozomen. lib. 7. c. 13. Niceph. l. 12. c. 19. from her fury of persecuting. [Page 520] Thankes to thee, O my God, whence, and whither hast thou thus led my remem­brance, that I should also con­fesse these particulars: vnto thee; which (hauing forgot­ten other great matters) I had almost passed ouer.

And yet euen then, when as the odors of thy oyntments were so fragrant, did wee not runne Can. 1. 2. 3 after thee: and for this reason did I more abundantly weepe at the singing of thy Hymnes, as hauing once sighed my selfe out of breath after thee, and now at last recouering so much of my winde againe, as there can bee freedome of ayre afforded in this house of grasse. Indow [...] [...]. Thus hee trans­lates a [...].

CHAP. 8. The Conuersion of Euodius. A discourse of his Mother.

1. THou that makest men of one mind to dwell in one house, didst bring Euodius a young man of our owne City, also to consort himselfe with vs. Who beeing an Officer of Court, was conuerted vnto thee and baptized be­fore vs, and hauing quit his These A­gentes in Rebus, were of the Sol­diery, out of which the Empe­rour chose some to serue his person in Court, and other­where. See our note vpon cap. 7 lib. 8. Colours in his secular war­fare, had deuoted himselfe to fight vnder thy baenner. We kept company with one ano­ther, intending still to dwell together in our deuout pur­pose; and seeking out now for some place where wee might more conueniently serue thee in, wee remoo­ued therevpon backe againe into Affrica: whither ward [Page 522] being on our way as farre as The Port­town [...] next to Rome, where they tooke ship for Affrica. Ostia, my mother departed this life. Many things doe I ouerpasse, because I make hast. Receiue my Confessions and Thankesgiuings, O my God, for innumerable things which I am silent in. But omit I will not whatsoeuer my soule can bring forth concerning that Handmaid of thine, which brought forth mee: both in her flesh, that I might be borne againe, to this temporall light; and in her heart too, that I might bee borne againe to the eternall Light. I will remem­ber, not her gifts, but thine in her. For neyther did she giue birth nor education vnto her­selfe.

2. For then createdst her, nor did her father and mother know, what kinde of crea­ture was to proceede out of their loynesd And it was the Scepter of thy Christ, the di­scipline [Page 523] of thine onely Sonne, that educated her in thy feare, in a house of Christians, which was a good member of thy Church. Yet was shee wont not so much to commend the bare diligence of her mother in her education, as the care of a certayne decrepite seruant of hers, who had also carried her father being a Child, as little ones vse to be carried at the backes of bigger maid­seruants. For which reason, Pick-pack according to the Country fashion perchance or else for sport sake. and because shee was well in yeeres, and of excellent con­uersation; was shee in that Christian family, very well re­spected by her master and mistresse: hauing thereupon the charge of her mistresses daughters committed vnto her; which she with much di­ligence performed, being sharp to hold them in, (when neede so required) with a ho­ly seuerity, and vsing a graue [Page 524] manner of discretion in tea­ching of them. For except at those houres wherein they were most temperately fed at their parents table, would shee not suffer them (were they neuer so thirsty) to drink so much as a draught of wa­ter; preuenting thereby a naughty custome, and gi­uing them this wholesome Item withall; Goe to, now yee drinke water, because you are not suffered to haue wine: but when once you come to bee marryed, and bee made Mistresses of Buttries and Cellars, you will scorne wa­ter then, but the custome of drinking will preuaile vpon you.

3. By this way of tuto­ring, and the authority shee had in awing of them, did shee moderate the longing of their tender ages, yea and brought the [...] thirst to so [Page 525] honest a moderation, as that now they would not of them­selues take more liberty, then what was comely. But there stole for all this, (as thy hand-maide told mee her sonne:) there stole vpon her, a licko­tish inclination toward wine. For when (as the manner was,) Thee, being thought to bee a sober mayden, was bidden by her parents some­times to draw Wine out of the Hogs-head, she holding the I suppose the pot in­to which the wine was drawn from the tap, had a little spout by which it was pow­red into a handsomer flagon, which was to stand vpon the liuery cup­boord. Pot vnder the Tappe would at the mouth of it, be­fore shee powred the Wine into the Flagon, wet her lipes as it were with a little sippe of it: for much would not her taste suffer her to take in.

For she did not this out of any drunken desire, but vpon such ouerflowing excesses as yo [...]th is subiect vnto, who boyle [Page 526] ouer with gamesomenesse: which in youthfull spirits is wont to bee kept vnder, by the grauity of their el­ders.

3. And thus vnto that Mo­dicum euery day adding a lit­tle more, (for who-euer con­temneth small things, shall fall Ecclus. 19. 1 by little and little,) fell shee at last to get such a custome, that shee would greedily take off her Cups brimmefull almost of wine. Where was then that watchfull old woman, with all her earnest counter­mending? was any thing of force enough to preuaile a­gainst a secret disease, if thy physicke, O Lord, did not watch ouer vs? Her father, mother, and gouernours not being by, thy selfe being at hand, who createdst, who cal­le [...] vs, who also by meanes of these people that are set ouer vs, workest somthing towards [Page 527] the saluation of our soules, what didst thou at that time, O my God? how didst thou cure her? which way didst thou heale her? didst thou not out of that other womans soule bring forth a hard and a sharpe Checke, as it were a Chirurgions knife out of thy secret store; and with one blow quite cut off that putri­fied custome of hers?

4. For that old mayd which shee vsed to goe with­all into the Celler, falling to Ad cuppam vnto the Pype or Hoggs-head. words (as it happened) hand to hand with her little mi­stresse, hither in the teeth in a most bitter insulting manner, calling her Wine-bibber: with which taunt she being struck to the quicke, reflected vpon the fowlenesse of her fault, yea and instantly condemnd it in her selfe, [...]auing it quite. ‘Euen as friends by flattering make vs worse so enemies of­tentimes [Page 528] by reproaching, make vs better:’ Yet shalt not thou render vnto them according to that which by them thou doest, but according to that which themselues intended. For she being in choler, had a desire rather to vex her young mistris, then to amend her; and therefore did shee it thus pri­uately: eyther for that the oportunity of the time, and place of their brabble found them thus alone; or else for feare her selfe should haue had anger, for discouering it no sooner.

But thou, O Lord, the Go­uernor both of heauenly and earthly things, who conuer­test to thine owne purposes the very depths of the run­ning streames, and disposest of the trouble some reuolutions of all ages [...] didst by the fury of one soule, thus cure the ill custome of another: And that [Page 529] lest any man, when hee ob­serues this, should attribute it vnto his owne power, if a­nother man chance to bee re­formed by a word of his, whom The for­mer Trans­later is here bold to crosse the sence by putting in of a nega­tiue whom be meant not to reforme. hee meant indeede to haue reformed.

CHAP. 9. His mother Monica'es carri­age towards her husband. A description of a rare wife.

1. BEing thus modestly and soberly brought vp, and made subiect by thee rather to her parents then by her parents vnto thee; so soone as shee prooued marriage­able, was shee bestowed vpon a Husband, whom shee was as seruiceable vnto, as to her Lord: endeuoring thereby to winne him vnto thee, prea­ching ▪ Thee vnto him by her Conuersation; by which Thou madest her to appeare beauti­full, [Page 530] and reuerently amiable, yea and admirable vnto her husband. For shee so discreet­ly endured his wronging of her bed, that she neuer had any iealous quarrell with her husband for that beastlynesse. Because she still expected thy mercy vpon him, that belee­uing in thee, hee might turne chaster.

And hee was besides this, as of a passing good nature, so also very hot and cholerike: but shee knew well enough, ▪ That a husband in choller, is not to bee contradicted; not in deede onely, but not so much as in word. But so soone as hee was growne calme and quie­ter, that shee saw her oportu­nity, would shee render him an account of her actions; if so bee hee had beene offen­ded vpon too slight an occa­sion.

2. In a word, when as ma­ny [Page 531] matrones, who had much milder husbands, carried the markes of the blowes in their dissigured faces, would in their gossippings tell many a tale of their husbands manner of liuing; shee as it were in iest, grauely aduised their too free tongues; That from the time they first heard those Ta­bles, which they call Tabulas matrimo­niales. I he Ancients recorded the condi­tions of the con­tract, the Ioy [...]ture, dowry, and marriage duties in publike sables, which were read (like our exnortati­ons in the Communi­on booke, after mar­riage) o­penly on the day or matri­mony: for these see Tertul lib. ad [...], c. 3. Matri­moniall, to bee first read vnto them, they should account of them as euidences, whereby themselues were made ser­uants; and that therefore be­ing alwayes mindfull of their owne condition, they ought not to pride vp themselues against their husbands. And when as they admired, (knowing what a cholericke husband shee in­dured) for that it had neuer beene heard, nor by any token perceiued, that Patricius had once beaten his wife, or that there had been any one house­hold [Page 532] difference betweene them for so much as one day; and whenas they familiarly askt the reason of it, shee taught them the Rule, which I haue before mentioned. Those wiues that obseru'd it, finding the good, gaue her thankes for it; those that did not, were kept vnder and af­flicted.

3. Her mother-in-law also, being at first incensed at her by the whisperings of naugh­ty seruants; she so farre ouer­came by obseruance, perseue­red so long in patience and meekenes; that shee of her owne accord discouered vnto her sonne, the tales that the maid-seruants had carried be tweene them, whereby the peace of the house had been disturbed, betwixt her and her daughter-in-law, re­quiring him to giue them cor­rection for it. When he there­fore, [Page 533] both out of obedience to his mother, and out of a Core to the well-ordering of his family, and to prouide with­all for the concord of his people, had with stripes cor­rected the seruants thus be­wrayed, according to the pleasure of her that had re­ueal'd it, her selfe also added this promise, that cuery one should looke for the like re­ward at her hands, whosoe­uer, to picke a thank by it, should speake any ill of her daughter-in-law: which none being so hardy afterwards as to doe, they liued euer after with a most memorable sweetnesse of mutuall courte­sies. This great gift thou be­stowedst also, O God my mer­cie, vpon that good hand maid of thine, out of whose wombe thou broughtest mee; namely, that she euer did, (where shee wasable) carry herselfe so peace [Page 534] fully betweene any parties that were at difference and discorded; as that after shee had on both sides heard many a bitter word, (such as swel­ling and indigested choler v­ses to breake forth into, when­as vnto a present friend, the ill-brookt heart-burning at an enemy, is with many a byting tittle-tattle, breathed vp againe) shee neuer for all that, would discouer more of the one party vnto the other, then what might further their reconcilement.

4. This vertue might seeme a small one vnto mee, if to my griefe. I had not had experi­ence of innumerable compa­nies, (I know not by what horrible infection or sinne spreading farre and neere,) who vsed not onely to disco­uer the speeches of enemies angred on both sides, to one another; but to adde withall [Page 535] some things that were neuer spoken: whereas on the con­trary, it ought to bee esteemed a meane vertue in a man, to forbeare meerely to procure or increase ill will amongst people by ill speaking, vnlesse hee studie withall how to quench it by making the best of euery thing. And such a one was shee, thy selfe being her most intimate Master, teach­ing her in the schoole of her brest. Finally, her owne hus­band (now towards the latter end of his life) did shee gaine vnto Thee; hauing now no more cause to complayne of those things in him when hee was once baptized, which she had formerly borne withall, before hee was conuerted.

5. Yea, shee was also the seruant of thy seruants; and whosoeuer of them knew her, did both commend much in her, and honored and loued [Page 536] Thee: for that they might well perceiue thy selfe to bee within the heart of her holy conuersation, the fruites of it being witnesses. For shee had beene The wife of one man; shee had repayed the 1 Tim. 5. 9 duty shee ought vnto her pa­rents; shee had gouerned her house very religiously; for good workes she had a good report; shee had brought vp her childen, so often trauailing in birth of them againe, as shee Gal. 4. 19. saw them swaruing from thee.

Lastly, of all of vs thy ser­uants, O Lord, (whom for this fauour receiued thou suf­ferest thus to speake, vs, who before her sleeping in thee li­ued in society together, ha­uing first receiued the grace of thy baptisme) did shee so take the care of, as if she had beene the mother to vs all: being withall so seruiceable, as [Page 537] if she had beene the daughter to vs all.

CHAP. 10. Of a confernce had with his mother, about the Kingdome of Heauen.

1. THe day now approa­ching that shee was to depart this life, (which day thou well knewest, though we were not aware of) it fell out, thy selfe, as I beleeue, by thine owne secret wayes so casting it: that shee and I should stand all alone together leaning in a certaine window, which lookt into the garden of the house where wee now lay at Ostia; where being se­questred from company after the weary somenesse of a long iourney, wee were prouiding our selues for a sea-voyage in­to [Page 538] our owne country, There conferred wee hand to hand very sweetely; and forget­ting those things which are Phil. 3. 13. behinds, wee reached forth vnto those things which are before; wee did betwixt our selues seeke at that Present Truth, (which thou art) in what manner the eternall life of the Saints was to bee, which eye hath not seene, nor Esay. 49. 4. eare heard, nor hath it entred into the heart of man. But yet wee gaped with the mouth of our heart, after those vpper streames of that Fountaine which is before thee; that being besprinck­led with it according to our capacity, wee might in some sort meditate vpon so high a mystery.

2. And when our dis­course was once come vnto that poynt, that the highest pleasure of the carnall sen­ces, [Page 539] and that in the brightest beame of corporall lightsome­nesse, was, in respect of the sweetenesse of that life, not onely not worthy of com­parison, but not so much as of mention; wee chering vp our selues with a more bur­ning affection towards that, did by degrees course ouer all these corporeals: that is to say, the heauen it selfe, from whence both Sunne, and Moone, and starres doe shine vpon this earth: yea wee soa­red higher yet, by inward musing, and discourse vpon Thee, and by admyring of thy workes. And last of all, wee came to our owne soules which wee presently went beyond, that wee might aduance as high as that Region of neuer-wa­sting plenty: where Thou feedest Israel for euer with the foode of Trueth; and [Page 540] where life is that Wisedome by which all these things are made, and which haue beene, and which are to come. And this Wisedome is not made; but it is at this present, as it hath euer beene, and so shall it euer bee: seeing that the Termes to haue beene, and to be hereafter, are not at all in it, but to Be now, for that it is e­ternall. For to haue beene, and to be, is not eternall. And while we were thus discoursing and streyning our selues after it, we arriued to a little touch of it with the whole stroake of our heart; and we sighed, and euen there wee left behinde vs the first fruits of our spirits enchayned vnto it; returning from these thoughts, to vocall expressions of our mouth, where words are both begun and finished. And what can bee like vnto thy Word, our Lord, who remaines in him­selfe [Page 541] for euer without becom­ming aged, and yet renewing all things?

3. Wee said therefore: If to any man the tumults of the flesh bee silenced, let these He means, that who­soeuer hath once ouer­come his owne lusts, should no more speake of, or listen af­ter any thing but God. The other Translator makes odd sence of it. fancies of the earth, and wa­ters, and ayre be silenced also: yea let the Poles of heauen be silent also: let his owne soule likewise keepe silence; yea let it surmount it selfe, not so much as thinking vpon it selfe. Let all dreames and ima­ginary reuelations be silenced, euery tongue, and euery signe, and whatsoeuer is made by passing from one degree vnto another, if vnto any man it can bee altogether silent: and that because if any man can hearken vnto them, all these will say vnto him, We created not our selues, but Hee that remaines to all eternity. Thus much the creatures hauing vttered, if they bee then si­lent, [Page 542] (as hauing raised their attentions vnto him that made them) then let him speake alone; not by them, but by himselfe, that we may heare his owne Word; not pronounced by any tongue of flesh, nor by the voyce of the Angels, nor by the sound of thunder, nor in the darke riddle of a resem­blance; but him whom wee loue in these creatures, let vs heare without the mini­stery of these creatures; like as wee two now streined vp our selues vnto it, and in a rauishing contemplati­on arriued vnto a touch of that eternall Wisedome, which is oaer all. Should this ex­altation of spirite haue e­uer continued, and all O­ther visions of a sarre infe­rior alloy beene quite taken away, and that this one ex­altation should rauish vs, [Page 543] and swallow vs vp, and so wrappe vp their beholder among these more inward ioyes, as that his life might bee for euer like to this ve­ry moment of vnderstanding which wee now sighed af­ter; were not this as much, as Enter into thy Masters ioy? But when shall that Mat. 25. 21 bee? Shall it bee when wee shall all rise againe, though all shall not bee chan­ged? 1 Cor. 15.

4. Such discourse wee then had and though not precisely after this manner, and in these selfesame words; yet, Lord thou knowest, that in that day when wee thus talkt of these things, that this world with all it's delights grew contempti­ble to vs, euen as wee were speaking of it. Then sayd my Mother: Sonne, for mine owne part I haue delight [Page 544] in nothing in this life, what I should here doe any longer, and to what end I am here, I know not, now that my hopes in this world are vanished. There was indeede one thing for which I sometimes desi­red to bee a little while repri­ued in this life; namely, that I might see thee to become a Christian Catholicke before I died. My God hath done this for me more abundantly; for that I now see thee withall, hauing contemned all earthly happinesse, to bee made his seruant: what then doe I here any longer?

CHAP. 11. Of the extasie and death of his Mother.

1. VVHat answere I then made her [Page 545] vnto these things, I doe not now remember: but in the meane time (scarce fiue dayes after, or not much more) she fell into a feauer, and in that sicknesse one day she fell into a swownd, being for a while taken from her sences. Wee ranne to her; but shee quick­ly came to her selfe againe; and looking wistly vpon mee and my brother standing by her, sayd vnto vs in manner of a question, Where was I? And fixing her eyes vpon vs, all with griefe amazed; Here, saith she, shal you bury your Mo­ther. I held my peace and re­frayned weeping: but my brother spake something to her, insinuating his desire to haue her dye, not in a strange place, but in her owne Coun­try, as being the happier. At hearing of which, shee with an offended countenance, checking him with her eye, [Page 546] for that hee had not yet lost the relish of these earthly thoughts: and then looking vpon me; Behold (quoth she) what he saith: And soone af­ter to vs both, Lay (saith she) this body any where, let not the eare for that dis­quiet you: this onely I re­quest, That you would remember Here the Popish Translater notes, That she desired to be prayed for. Not so; but what remēbring at the Altar meanes, see our preface. mee at the Lords Altar, where-euer you bee.

2. And when shee had de­liuered this her opinion, in words as well as shee could; shee held her peace, her sick­nesse growing more strong vpon her. But I, considering with my selfe thy gifts, O Thou my invincible God, which thou instillest into the hearts of thy faithfull ones, from whence such ad­mirable fruites doe spring forth, did greatly reioyce and giue thankes vnto thee, [Page 547] calling now to mind, what I before knew with how much carefulnesse (namely) con­cerning her place of buriall, shee had alwayes troubled her selfe; which shee had ap­pointed and prepared by the bodie of her Husband. For because they two had liued so louingly together, her earnest desire had still beene (as humane nature is lesse capeable of diuine con­siderations) to make this addition vnto that happi­nesse, and to haue it talkt of by the people; That God had granted vnto her, after so long a pilgrimage beyond the seas, to haue now at last in her natiue country, both the bodies of man and wife couered with the same earth.

3. But when this empty conceit beganne, by the [Page 548] fulnesse, of thy goodnesse to be thrust out of her heart, I knew not: but I reioyced with much admiration, that I now so plainely saw it, to haue done so: though indeede in that speech which wee had in the window, whenas shee sayd, What doe I here any lon­ger? shee made shew of no desire of dying in her owne country. I heard afterwards also, that in the time we were at Ostia, how with a matrone­ly confidence shee discoursed with certaine of my friends when I was absent, about the contempt of this life, and of the benefit of death: they be­ing much astonished at the courage of the woman, which thou hadst giuen her; withall demanding of her, Whether shee were not affrayd to leaue her body so farre from her owne City? vnto which shee replyed, Nothing is farre from [Page 549] God; nor was it to bee feared lest hee should not know at the end of the world, the place whence he were to raise me vp. In the ninth day therefore of her sicknesse, and the sixe and fiftieth yeere of her age, and the three and thirtieth of mine, was that religious & ho­ly Soule discharged from the prison of her body.

CHAP. 12. He laments his mothers death.

1. I Cloased her eyes; and there flowed withall an vnspeakeable sorrow into my heart, which ouerflowed in­to teares: mine eyes at the same time by the violent command of my mind, pumpt their Well drie, and wo was [Page 550] me in that same agony. So soone as she had breathd out her last spirit, the boy Adeo­dates brake out into a lowd lamentation; till being pres­sed by vs all, hee held his peace. In like manner also that childish passion of mine owne, which slipt from mee in teares, being restrained by the manly voyce of my heart, was at last silenced. For fit­ting This same was S. Gre­gory Nazi­anzens o­pinion, O­ratione 11. pro Gorgo­nia, and al­so orat. 10. in funere Caesary La­chrymis à philosophia superatis psalmodiis lachrimas sedantibus. wee did not thinke it, to solemnize that funerall with lamentations, teares and howlings; for that this is the fashion whereby those that dye miserably, or bee vtterly perished as it were, vse to be lamented: whereas shee did neyther dye in any miserable condition, nor indeede dyed shee vtterly. For thus much were we assured of by the ex­perience of her good conuer­sation, her sayth vnfained, and other most certaine argu­ments.

[Page 551] 2 What might that bee therefore which did thus grieuously payne mee within, but a wound newly taken, by hauing that most sweete and deare custome of liuing with her, thus suddenly broken off? I much reioyce to receiue that testimony from her, where­by in the latter end of her sicknesse, vpon my perfor­mance of all respectfull duty­fulnesse to her, shee euer and anon speaking most kindly to mee, call'd mee Pium. a dutyfull Child: remembring with great affection of loue, how that shee neuer heard any harsh word or reproach­full tearme, to come out of my mouth against her. But for all this, O my God, that madest vs both, what compa­rison is there betwixt that honour that I performe to her, and that carefull paine­fulnesse of hers to mee? [Page 552] Because therefore I was left thus destitute of so great a comfort, was my very soule wounded; yea and my life torne in pieces as it were: which had beene made one, out of hers and mine toge­ther.

3 That boy now being stil­led from weeping, Euodius tooke vp the Psalter, and be­gan to sing, (the whole house answering him) the 101 Psalme, I suppose they con­tinued to the end of Psalme 102. This was the Primi­tiue fashi­on: Nazi­anzen saies that his speechlesse Sister Gor­goniaes lips muttered the fourth Psalme; I will lie downe in peace and sleepe. As St Austen lay a dying, the company prayed. Possid. That they had prayers betweene the departure and the buriall, see Tertull. l. de Anima. c. 51. They vsed to sing both at the depar­ture and buriall. Nazianzen. oral: 10. sayes, The dead Caesarius was carried from hymnes to hymnes. The Priests were called to sing Chrysost. Hom. 50. ad Antioch. They sung the 116. Psalme vsually. See Chrysost. Homil. 4. in cap. 2. ad Hebraeos. I will sing of mercy and iudgement vnto thee, O Lord. But when it was once heard what we were a doing, [Page 553] there came together very many Brethren and religious wo­men: and whilest they (whose office it was,) were, as the manner is, taking order for the buriall; my selfe in a part of the house (where most con­ueniently I could, together with those who thought it not fit to leaue mee) discour­sed vpon something which I thought fittest for the time: by applying of which playster of truth, did I asswage that in­ward torment, knowne one­ly vnto thy selfe, though not by them perceiued; who ve­ry attentiuely listning vnto me, conceiued me to be with­out all sense of sorrow. But in thy eares, where none of them ouer heard me, did I blame the weakenesse of my passion, and refraine my flood of grieuing: which giuing way a little vn­to mee, did for all that breake forth with his wonted vio­lence [Page 554] vpon me, though not so far as to burst out into teares, nor to any great change of countenance, yet know I well enough what I kept downe in my heart. And for that it very much offended me, that these human respects had such pow­er ouer mee, (which must in their due order, and out of the Fatality of our naturall conditi­on, of necessity come to passe) I condoled mine owne sorrow with a new grieuing, being by this meanes afflicted with a double sorrow.

4. And behold, when as the Corps was carried to the Bu­rial, we both went & returned without teares. For neither in those Prayers which we pow­red forth vnto Thee, whenas the Sacrifice of our Here my Popish Translater sayes, that the Sacri­fice of the Masse was offered for the dead. That the Ancients had com­munion with their burials, I confesse. But for what? 1. To testi­ [...] their dy­ing in the com­munion of the Church. 2. To giue thanks for their de­parture. 3. To pray God to giue them place in his Paradise. 4. And a part in the first resurrection: But not as a propitiatory Sacrifice to deliuer them out of purgatory, which the Masse is now onely meant for. See our preface. Redemp­tion [Page 555] was offered vp vnto thee for her, the Corps standing by the Graues side, before it was put into the ground (as the manner there is) did I so much as shed a teare all the Here ob­serue Bu­riall with prayers. Prayer time; yet was I most grieuously sad in secrete, and with a troubled minde did I begge of thee (so well as I could) that thou wouldst mi­tigate my sorrow, which for all that, thou diddest not: re­commending, I beleeue, vnto my memory by this one ex­periment, That the too strict bond of all humane conuer­sation, is much preiudiciall vnto that soule, which now feeds vpon thy not deceiuing Word. It would, I thought, doe me some good, to goe and bathe my selfe; and that be­cause I had heard the Bath to take his name from the Greekes calling of it [...], for that it driues sadnesse out [Page 556] of the minde. And this I also confesse vnto thy mercy, O father of the fatherlesse; because that after I had ba­thed, I was the same man I was before, and that the bit­ternesse of my sorrow could not bee swette out of my heart.

5. I fell to sleepe vpon it; and vpon my waking, I found my griefe to bee not a little abated. Wherevpon lying in my bed alone, there came to my mind those true verses of thy Ambrose. For thou art the

And then againe by little and little as feelingly as be­fore, calling to mind thy hand­mayd, her deuout and holy conuersation towards Thee, her pleasing and most obser­uant behauiour towards Ʋs, of which too suddenly I was now depriued: it gaue mee some content to weepein thy sight; both concerning her, and for her; concerning my selfe, and for my selfe. And I gaue way to these teares which I before restrei­ned, to ouer flow as much as they desired; laying them for a pillow vnder my heart, and resting my selfe vpon them: [Page 558] for there were thy eares, and not the eares of man, who would haue scornefully inter­preted this my weeping.

6. But now in writing I con­fesse it vnto thee, O Lord, read it, who will; and interpret it, how he will: and if hee finds me to haue offended in bewai­ling my mother so small a por­tion of an houre (that mo­ther I say now dead and de­parted from mine eyes, who had so many yeeres wept for me, that I might liue in thine eyes,) let him not deride me; but if he be a man of any great charity, let him rather weepe for my sinnes vnto Thee, the Father of all the brethren of thy Christ.

CHAP. 13. Hee prayeth for his dead mo­ther.

1. BVt my heart now cu­red of that wound, (for which it might bee blamed for a carnall kinde of affecti­on) I powre out vnto Thee, O our God, in behalfe of that handmayd of thine, a farre different kind of teares; such as flowed from a broken spirit, out of a serious conside­ration of the danger of euery soule that dyeth in Adam. And notwithstanding she for her part being quickened in Christ, euen before her disso­lution from the flesh, had so liued, that there is cause to prayse Thy name, both for her sayth and conuersation; yet dare I not say for all this, that from the time of thy [Page 560] regenerating her by bap­tisme, there issued not from her mouth any one word or o­ther, against thy commande­ment. Thy Sonne who is Truth, hath pronounc'd it, Mat. 5. 22. Whosoeuer shall say vnto his brother, Thou foole, shall bee in danger of Hell fire. In so much as woe bee vnto the most commendable life of men, if laying aside thy mercy, thou shouldest rigorously examine it. But because thou too nar­rowly inquiredst not after sinnes, wee assuredly hope to finde some place Either Heauen or Purgatory notes my papist: Is not purga­tory well prou'd from hence? of pardon with thee. But whosoeuer stands to reckon vp his owne Merits vnto Thee, what reckons hee vp vnto thee but thine Here he notes. We grow to haue Me­rits by the gift of God. A meere contradi­ction: for if merites, what need gifts? and if gifts, then re­nounce merits. See Ro. 3. 27. 28 owne gifts? Oh that men would know thēselues to be but men; & that he that glo­rieth, would glory in the Lord.

2. I therefore O my praise and my life, thou God of my [Page 561] heart, laying aside for a while her good deedes, for which with reioycing I giue thanks vnto thee, doe now See for­ward. beseech thee for the sinnes of my mo­ther. Hearken vnto mee by him, I intreate thee, that is the true medicine of our wounds, who hung vpon the tree, and now sitting at thy right hand maketh St. Au­sten would haue bene put n the Inquisition for this; what? leaue out the Virgin Mary and the Saints: This is not Romane Ca­tholicke. intercession for vs. I know that shee hath doalt mercifully, and to haue from her very heart forgiuen those that trespassed against her: doe thou also forgiue her tres­passes; what-euer shee hath drawne vpon her selfe in so many yeeres, since her clean­sing by the water of baptis­me, forgiue her Lord, for­giue her, I beseech thee; en­ter not into iudgement with her, but let thy mer­cy bee exalted aboue thy iustice, and that because thy words are true, and [Page 562] thou hast promised mercy vnto the mercifull; which, that peo­ple might bee, is thy gift to them, who wilt haue mercy on whome thou wilt haue mercy; and wilt shew deeds of mer­cy, Rom 9. 1 [...] vnto whom thou hast been mercifully inclined. And I now Here hee discouers the opini­on of the Church: none of the Fathers prayd for the dead so much as Austen did, nor would hee (per­chance) haue so earnestly prayed for any, but for his Mo­ther. Papists beleeue that the dead are yet in Pur­gatory, their sinnes yet vnpardoned. Saint Au­stens beleefe is different. beleeue that thou hast already done what I request of thee; but take in good part, O Lord, these Prayers for the dead then, is but Will-worship grounded vpon no Command, comforted by no promise. All voluntary: Not so much as a Councell for it. Why is it vrged? voluntary pe­titions of my mouth.

3. For shee, the day of her dissolution being at hand, tooke no thought to haue her body sumptuously wound vp, or imbalmed with spices; [Page 563] nor was she ambitious of any choyce monument, or cared to bee buried in her owne Country. These things shee gaue vs no command for; but desired only to haue her name See the preface. commemorated at thy Al­tar, which shee had serued without intermission of one day; from whence she knew that holy Sacrifice to bee dis­pensed, by which that Hand­writing that was against vs, is Coll. 2 14. blotted out; through which Sacrifice the Enemy was tri­umphed ouer; he, who sum­ming vp our offences, and seeking for something to lay to our charge; sound nothing in Him, in whom wee are conquerours. Who shall re­store vnto him his innocent blood? who shall repay him the price with which hee bought vs, and so bee able to take vs out of his hands? vn­to the Sacrament of which [Page 564] price of our redemption, this handmaid of thine had bound her owne soule, by the bond of fayth.

4. Let none plucke her a­way from thy protection: let neyther the Lyon nor the Dragon interpose himselfe by force or fraud. For shee will not answere that shee owes no­thing, lest she bee disprooued and gotten the better of, by her crafty accuser: but she will answer, how that her sins are forgiuen her by him, vnto whome none is able to repay that price, which hee layd downe for vs, who owed no­thing. Plaine­ly, right downe Prayer for the dead had still exceptions taken to it. St. Cyrill Caiech. 5 I know ma­ny will aske what good doth it to Soules? And they euer ioyned Almes to their Prayers. Wilt thou honor the dead? Doe Almes deeds to the poore for them. Chrrsost. Hom. 61. in Ioan. But the Priest that sings the di [...]ge &c. hath now robd the poore of that. Let her rest therefore in peace together with her husband, before, or after [Page 565] whom, shee had neuer any: whom shee obeyed; through patience bringing forth fruit vnto thee, that shee might winne him vnto thee. And inspire, O Lord my God, in­spire thy seruants, my bre­thren, thy sonnes, my masters (whom with voyce, and heart, and pen I serue) that so many of them as shall reade these Confessions, may at thy Altar Mee desi­red not to haue her prayd for, but Com­memorated at the Al­tar Him­selfe in his Enchiridion cap. 10 tea­ches, that such as were very good (and so hee thought his Mother) needed but Thanksgiuing at the Al [...]ar for them. To those that were very euill, neyther Prayers, Sacrifice, nor Almes, could doe good. remember Monica thy handmayd, together with Pa­tricius, her sometimes husband, by whose bodies thou brough­test mee into this life, though how I know not. May they with deuout affection be mindefull of these parents of mine in this transitory light, and of my [Page 566] brethren that are, vnder thee our Father in our Catholicke Mother: and of those who are to be my fellow Citizens in that eternall Ierusalem, which thy people here in their pilgrimage so sigh after euen from their birth, vnto their returne thither. That so, what my mother in her last words desired of me, may the more plentifully bee perfor­med for her in the pray­ers of many; as well by meanes of my Confessions, as of my pray­ers.

CHAP. 1. The Confessions of the heart.

1 LEt mee know Thee, O Lord, who know­est mee: let me know thee, 1 Co. 13. 12 as I am knowne of thee. O thou the vertue of my soule, make thy entrance into it, and so fit it for thy selfe, that thou mayst [Page 568] haue and hold it without spotte Eph. 5. 27. or wrinkle. This is my hope, and therefore doe I now speake; and in this hope doe I reioyce, when at all I re­ioyce. As for other things of this life, they deserue so much the lesse to bee lamented, by how much the more wee doe lament them: and againe, so much the more to bee lamen­ted, by how much the lesse we doe lament them. For behold, thou hast loued truth, and hee that does so, commeth to the light. This will I publish be­fore thee in the confession of my heart; and in my writing, before many witnesses.

CHAP. 2. Secret things are knowne to God.

1. ANd from thee O Lord, vnto whose eyes the bottome of mans Conscience [Page 569] is layd bare, what can bee hid­den in mee though I would not confesse it? For so should I hide thee from mee, not my selfe from thee. But now, for that my groaning is witnesse for mee, that I am displeased with my selfe: thou shinest out vnto mee, and art pleasing to me, yea desired, and be­loued of mee: and I will bee ashamed of my selfe, yea I will renounce mine owne selfe, and make choyce of thee; and ne­uer may I please thee, nor my selfe, but in thee.

2. Vnto thee therefore, O Lord, am I layd open, what e­uer I am, and with what fruit I may Confesse vnto thee, I haue before spoken. Nor doe I it with words and speeches of the body, but with the expressions of my very soule, and the crye of my thoughts, which thy care onely vnder­standeth. For when I am [Page 570] wicked then to confesse vnto thee, is no other thing but to displease my selfe: but when I am well giuen, to con­fesse vnto thee, is then no other thing, but not to attribute this goodnesse vnto my selfe: because it is thou, O Lord, that blessest the Iust, but first thou iustifiest him being wicked. My Confession there­fore, O my God, in thy sight, is made vnto thee priuately, and yet not priuately: for in respect of noyse, it is silent, but yet it cryes alowd in re­spect of my affection. For nei­ther doe I vtter any thing that is right vnto men, which thy selfe hath not before heard from mee: nor caust thou heare any such thing from me, which thy selfe hath not first sayd vnto me.

CHAP. 3. The Confession of our ill deeds, what it helpes vs.

1. VVHat therefore haue I to doe with men, that they should heare my Confessions; as if they could cure all my infir­mities? A curious people to pry into another mans life, but slothfull enough to amend their owne. Why doe they desire to heare from me, what I am; who will not heare from thee, what themselues are? And how know they, whenas they heare my selfe confessing of myselfe, whe­ther I say true or no; seeing none knowes what is in man, but the spirit of man which is in 1 Cor. 2. 11 him? But if they heare from thee any thing concerning themselues, they cannot say, [Page 572] The Lord lyeth. For what els is it from thee to heare of themselues, but to know themselues? and who is hee that knowing himselfe, can say, It is false, vnlesse him­selfe lyes? But because Cha­rity beleeueth all things; (that is to say, amongst those whom by knitting vnto it selfe it ma­keth one) I therefore, O Lord, doe so also confesse vnto thee, as that men may heare: to whom though I be not able to demonstrate whether I confesse truely; yet giue they credit vnto mee, whose eares cha­ritie hath set open vnto mee.

2 But doe thou, O my most private Physicion, make ap­parent vnto mee, what fruite I may reape by doing it. For the confessions of my pas­sed sinnes (which thou hast so giuen and couered, that thou mightest make mee happy in [Page 573] thee, in changing my life by thy sayth and Sacrament) whenas they are read and heard, they stirre vp the heart that it may not sleepe in de­spaire, and say, I cannot; but keepe it selfe wakefull in the loue of thy mercy, and the sweetnesse of thy grace: by which any weake persons is made strong, who is by it made guilty to himselfe of his owne infirmities. As for these that are good, they take de­light to heare of their passed errours, (those I meane, that are now freed from them:) yet are they not therefore de­lighted because they are er­rors; but for that they hauing so beene, are not so now.

3. With what fruit, O Lord my God, to whom my consci­ence, (more secure vpon the hope of thy mercy, then in her own inocēcy) maketh her dai­ly confession, with what fruit [Page 574] I beseech thee, doe I by this Booke before Thee also con­fesse vnto men, what at this time I yet am, not what I haue beene? For, as for that fruit, I haue both seene & spoken of it but as for what I now am, behold, in the very time of the making of these Cōfessions; diuers people both desired to know it: both they that per­sonally know mee, and those also that did not; they that had heard any thing eyther from me, or of me: but their care ouer-heares not my heart, where-euer, or what-euer I be. They are desirous there­fore to heare mee confesse what I am within; whither neyther their eye, nor eare, nor vnderstanding is able to diue; yet doe they desire it, though they bee tyed to be­leeue mee, not able to know me, because that Clarity (by which they are made good) [Page 575] sayes vnto them, that I would neuer belye my selfe in my Confessions. And tis that Cha­rity in them, which giues cre­dit to me.

CHAP. 4. Of the great fruite of Con­fession.

1. BVt to what end would they heare this? doe they desire to congratulate with mee, when as they shall heare how neere (by thy grace) I am now come vnto thee? and to pray for mee, when shall they once heare how much I am cast behind by mine owne heauinesse? To such will I discouer my selfe: for it is no meane fruite, O Lord my God, to cause many to me thankes vnto thee, and bee intreated for vs, by many. [Page 576] Let the friendly minde of my brethren loue that in mee, which thou teachest is to bee loued: and lament in me, what thou teachest is to be lamented: Let the minde of my bre­thren, not that of the stran­ger, not that of the Strange children, whose mouth talketh Ps. [...]4: 11. of vanity, and their right hand is a right hand of iniquity; but that of my brethren who when they approue of mee, doe also reioyce for mee; and when they disallow mee, are sory for me: because that whe­ther they allow, or disallow me, yet still they loue me. To such will I discouer my selfe: they will haue a respect to my good deedes, and sigh for my ill. My good deedes are thine appoyntments, Where be Merits then? This is right Protestant diuinity. and thy gifts: my euill ones, are my owne faults, and thy iudgements. Let them receiue comfort by the one, and sigh [Page 577] at the other: Let now both thanks-giuing and be­wailing ascend vp into thy sight, out of the hearts of my brethren, which are thy Cen­sers.

2. And when thou, O Lord, art once delighted with the Incense of thy holy Temple, haue mercy vpon me according Psal. 51. 1. to thy great mercy, for thine owne names sake: and at no hand giuing ouer what thou hast begunne in mee, finish vp what is imperfect. This is the fruit of my Confessions; not of what I haue beene, but of what I am: namely, to con­fesse this not before thee one­ly, in a secret reioycing mixed with trembling; and in a pri­uate sorrow fulnes, allayed with hope: but in the cares also of the beleeuing sonnes of men, sharers of my ioy, and partners in mortality with mee; my fellow Citizens, and [Page 578] fellow Pilgrimes: both those that are gone before, and those that are to follow af­ter mee, and those too that accompany mee along in this life.

3. These are thy seruants, my brethren; those whom thou willest to be thy sonnes, my masters; whom thou com­mandedst mee to serue, if I would liue with thee. But this thy saying were to little purpose, did it giue the com­mand onely by speaking, and not goe before mee in perfor­ming. This therefore I now doe both in deede and word: this I doe vnder thy wings; and that with too much dan­ger, were not my soule shel­tred vnder thy wings, and my infirmity knowne vnto thee. I am but a little one; but my Father liueth for euer, and my Protector is fit for mee. For tis the very same hee that be­gat [Page 579] me, and that defends meet for thou thy selfe art all my goods; euen thou, O omnipo­tent, who art present with me, and that before I am come vnto thee. To such therefore will I discouer my selfe, whom thou commandest mee to serue: not discouering what I haue beene, but what I now am, and what I am yet. But I will not iudge my selfe. Thus 1 Cor: 4. 3. therefore let mee be heard.

CHAP. 5. That man knoweth not him­selfe throughly: and knowes not God but in a glasse darkely.

1. BVt thou, O Lord, doest iudge me: because, that although No man knowes the things of a man but the spirit 1 Cor 2. 11 of man which is in him; Yet [Page 580] is there some thing of man, which the very spirit of man that is in him, knoweth not. But thou knowest all of him, who hast made him. As for me, though in thy sight I de­spise my selfe, accounting my selfe but dust and ashes; yet know I something of thee, which I know not of my selfe. For surely, now wee see thorough a glasse darkely, not 1 Cor. 13. 12. face to face as yet: so long therefore as I bee absent from thee, I am neerer vnto my selfe [...] Cor. 5. 6. then vnto thee; and yet know I thee not possible to be any wayes violated: whereas for my selfe, I neyther know what temptations I am able to resist, or what I am not.

2. But there is hope, be­cause thou art faithfull, who 1 Cor. 10 3. wilt not suffer vs to bee temp­ted aboue that wee are able: but wilt with the temptation also make a way to escape, [Page 581] that we may be able to beare it. I will confesse therfore; what I know by my selfe I will con­fesse, yea and what I know not. And that, because what I doe know by my selfe, by thy shewing it mee, I come to know it: and what I know not by my selfe, I am so long ignorant of, vntill my darke­nesse bee made as the Noone­day Ps. 139. 1 in thy sight.

CHAP. 6. What God is, and how knowne.

1. NOt out of a doubtfull, but with a certayne Here hath the former Translater neglected this of con­science. conscience, doe I loue thee O Lord: Thou hast strucken my heart with thy word, & ther­upon I loued thee. Yea also the heauen, & the earth & all that [Page 582] is in them, behold, they bid me on euery side, that I should loue thee; nor cease they to say so vnto all, to make them inexcuseable. But more pro­foundly wilt thou haue mer­cy Rom. 9. 15. on whom thou wilt haue mercy, and wilt haue com­passion vpon whom thou wilt haue compassion: for else doe the heauen and the earth speake forth thy prayses vnto the deafe. What now do I loue, whenas I loue thee? not the beauty of any corpo­rall thing, not the order of times; not the brightnesse of Here sets he downe the Obiects and plea­sures of the fiue Sen­ces. the light, w ^ch to behold, is so gladsome to our eyes: not the pleasant melodies of songs of all kinds; not the fragrant smell of flowers, and oynt­ments, and spices: not Manna and honey, nor any fayre limbs that are so acceptable to fleshly embracements.

2. I loue none of these [Page 583] things, whenas I loue my God: and yet I loue a certaine kinde of light, and a kind of voyce, and a kinde of fragran­cy, and a kinde of meat, and a kind of embracement. When­as I loue my God; who is both the light, and the voyce, and the sweet smell, and the meate, and the embracement of my inner man: where that light shineth vnto my soule, which no place can receiue; that voyce soundeth, which time depriues me not of; and that fragrancy smelleth, which no wind scatters; & that meate tasteth, which eating deuoures not; and that embracement clingeth to mee, which satiety diuorceth not.

This is it which I loue, when as I loue my God. And what is this? I askt the Earth, and that answered me, I am not it; and whatsoeuer are in it, made the same confession. I asked [Page 584] the Sea and the deepes, and the creeping things, and they an­swered me, We are not thy God, seeke aboue vs. I asked the fleeting winds; and the whole Ayre with his inhabitants an­swered me, That An old Philosopher Anaximenes was deceiued, I am not thy God. I asked the heauens, the Sunne and Moone, and Starres, Nor (say they) are wee the God whom thou seekest.

3. And I replyed vnto all these, which stand so round a­bout these dores of my flesh; You haue answered me con­cerning my God, that you are not he. And they cryed out with aloud voyce, He made vs. My questioning with them, is my intention: What he meanes by Intention, see in our Marginall note lib. 7. cap. 1. pag 342. like a Philosopher he puts In­tention and Species to­gether. He meanes, that their hauing a shape and figure, shewed them not to bee Gods. This is con­trary to the Manichees. & their answer is their figure and species. And I turned my selfe vnto my selfe, and sayd, Who art thou? [Page 585] And I answered, A man: for behold, here is a soule, and a body in me, one without, and the other within. By which of these two, am I to seeke my God, whom my body had in­quired after from earth to heauen, euen so farre as I was able to send these beames of mine eyes in ambassage? But the better part is the inner part, vnto which all these my bodily messengers gaue vp their Renuncia­bant. This he trans­lates, gaue place, ignorantly. See our note on lib 7. c. 17. pa. 396 intelligence, as being the President and Iudge of all the seuerall answers of heauen and earth, and of all things that are therein, who all sayd, Wee are not God, but He made vs. These things did my inner man kn [...]w by the intelligence giuen him by the outer man: And I the inner man knew all this; I the soule, by meanes of the Sences of the body.

4. I asked the whole frame of the world concerning my [Page 586] God, and that answered mee, I am not He, but Hee made me. Doth not this corporeall figure guidently appeare to all those that haue their perfect sen­ces? why then speakes it not The 5. outward Sences represent what they see, heare, &c. vnto the 3. in­ward Sen­ces: and then Rea­son takes the report or intelli­gence, and makes iudgemēt, and giues direction according­ly. The o­ther Trans­later is much out here, for want of a very little Philosophy. the same things vnto all? The creatures both small and great doe see this corporeall figure well enough, but they are not able to aske any questions of it: because Iudge Reason is not President ouer their Sences which are to giue vp intelli­gence vnto him. But Men are well able to aske that, so they may clearely see the inuisible things of God, which are vnderstood by the things that are made. But by inordinate loue of them, they make them­selues subiects vnto them: and slaues are not fit to be Iudges. Nor will the creatures an­swere to such as aske of them, vnlesse the askers be able to iudge: nor so much [Page 587] as alter their voyce, (that is, their out-ward appea­rance) if so bee one man onely lookes vpon it, and another seeing it, withall enquires of it, so as it may appeare one way to this man, and another way to that man: but it appea­ring the same way vnto both, is dumbe to this man, but makes answere vnto that; Yea verily it speakes vnto all; but they onely vnderstand it, who compare that voyce re­ceiued from without by the Sences, with the Truth which is within. For Truth sayes vn­to me, Neyther heauen, nor earth, nor any other body is thy God. This, their very Na­ture sayes vnto him that lookes vpon them; There is lesse bulke in the part of a thing, then in the whole. Now vnto thee I speake, O my soule, Thou art my better part: for thou quickenest this bulke of [Page 588] my body, by giuing life vnto it, which no body can giue vnto a body: but thy God is the life of thy life vnto thee.

CHAP. 7. God is not to bee found by any ability in our bodies.

1. VVHat is it there­fore which I loue, when as I loue my God? who is Hee that is aboue the top of my Soule? By this very soule will I ascend vp vnto him; I will so are beyond that facul­ty of mine, by which I am v­nited vnto my body, and by which I fill the whole frame of it with life. I cannot by that faculty finde my God; for so, the Horse & Mule that haue no vnderstanding, might Psal. 32. [...]. as well finde him; seeing they [Page 589] haue the same faculty, by which their bodies liue al­so.

2. But another faculty there is, not that onely by which I giue life, but that too by which I giue sence vnto my flesh, which the Lord hath framed for me: when (name­ly) he commands the eye that it should not heare, and the care that it should not see: but orders that for mee to see by, and this, for mee to heare withall; and assignes what is proper to the other Sen­ces seuerally, in their owne seates and offices; which be­ing diuers through euery sence, yet I the soule being but one, doe actuate and go­uerne. I will (I say) mount be­yond this faculty of mine; for euen the Horse and Mule haue this, seeing they also are sen­sible in their bodies.

CHAP. 8. The force of the Memory.

1. I Will soare therefore beyond this faculty of my nature, still rysing by degrees vnto Him, who hath made both mee and that na­ture. And I come into these fields and spacious palaces of my Memory, where the trea­sures of innumerable formes brought into it from these things that haue beene percei­ued by the sences, be hoarded vp. There is layd vp, whatso­euer besides wee thinke, ey­ther by way of enlarging or diminishing, or any other wayes varying of those things which the sence hath come at: yea, and if there bee any thing recommended to it, and there layd vp, which forgetfulnesse hath not swallowed vp and [Page 591] buried. To this treasury when euer I haue recourse, I de­maund to haue any thing brought forth whatsoeuer I will; whereupon some things come out presently, and o­thers must be longer enquired after, which are fetcht (as it were) out of some more secret receptacles: other things rush out in troopes; and while a quite contrary thing is desi­red and required, they start forth, as who should say, Lest peraduenture it should bee wee that are called for. These I driue away with the hand of my heart, from the sight of my remembrance; vntill that at last bee discouered, which I desire, appearing in sight, out of its hidden Cells. Other things are supplyed more easily and without dis­order, iust as they are desired: former notions giuing way to the following by; which gi­uing [Page 592] way are they layd vp a­gaine, to bee forth-comming when-euer I will haue them. Which is altogether, whenas I repeate any thing by heart.

2. There are all things dis­tinctly & vnder generall heads preserued, according to the seuerall gates that each notion hath beene-brought in at: as light (for example) & all colours and formes of bodies, brought in by the Eyes: and by the Eares all sorts of Sounds: and all Smels by the Nosethrils; all tastes by the gate of the Mouth: and by the sence which belongs to the whole The Touch, which hath no proper Sea [...] or Or­gan, as the other 4 Sences haue, but is diffused all the bo­dy ouer. body, is brought in whatso­euer is hard or soft; whateuer is hot, or cold; whateuer is smooth or rugged, heauy or light, in respect of the body, eyther outwardly or inward­ly. All these doth that great Receipt of the memory take in, which are to bee sorth com­ming, [Page 593] and to be cald for againe, whenas neede so requireth. And there bee, I know not what, secret and vnexpressable nookes in it; seeing all these notions of things each by his owne Port, enter into it, and are there layd vp in it. And yet doe not the things them­selues enter the Memory; onely the Images of the things perceiued by the Sences, are ready there at hand, when euer the Thoughts will recall them.

3. Which Images who can tell how they come to be for­med, notwithstanding it plainely appeares by which of the Sences each hath beene fetched in and locked vp? For euen whilest I dwell in the darknesse & silence; yet into my memory can I draw colours, if I please, and can discerne betwixt Blacke and White, and what others I desire. [Page 594] Nor yet her Sownds breake in, and disturbe that notion drawne in by mine eyes, which I am now considering vpon: seeing these Sounds bee in the memory too, and layd vp in se­cret, as it were apart by them­selues; and I can call for them if I please, and they present themselues to mee at an in­stant. And though my tongue be quiet, and my throat silent, yet can I sing as much as I will; nor doe the Images of those colours which notwith­standing be then there, now encroach and interrupt me, when another piece of trea­sure is cald for which came in by the eares. And thus all o­ther things, brought in and layd vp by other of the sen­ces, doe I call to remembrance at my pleasure. Yea I discerne the breath of lillies from that of violets, though at the in­stant I smell nothing: and [Page 595] I preferre honey before sweet wine, smooth before rugged; though at that time I neyther taste, nor handle, but re­member onely. All this doe I within, in that hugy room­thynesse of my memory.

4. For there haue I in a rea­dinesse, the heauen, the earth, the sea, and what-euer I can thinke vpon in them, besides those which I haue forgot­ten. There also meete I with my selfe, I recall my selfe, what, where, or when I haue done a thing; and how I was affected when I did it. There be all what euer I remember, eyther vpon mine owne ex­perience, or others credit. Of this sentence my Trans­later hath made very able Non­sence. Out of the same store doe I my selfe compare these and these likelyhoods of things; eyther of such as I haue made experience of, or of such as I haue barely beleeued vpon experience of some things [Page 496] that bee passed: and by these do I compare actions to come, their euents and hopes: and vp­on all these againe doe I medi­tate, as if they were now pre­sent. I will doe this or that (say I to my selfe, in that great re­ceipt of my soule) and this or that shall follow vpon it. Oh that this would come to passe, or that! God would deliuer vs from this or that. Thus talke I to my selfe: which when I speake of, the Images of all the things that I do speake of, are present, all out of the same treasury of my memory; nor could I talke of any of these things, were the Images wanting.

5. Great is this force of memo­ry, excessiue great, O my God! a large and an infinite room­thynes, who can plummet the bottome of it? yet is this a fa­culty of mine, and belongs vn­to my nature: nor can I my self comprehend all that I am. [Page 597] Therefore is the minde too streight to containe it selfe, not of capacity Here he leaues out what hee could not conster. enough to hold there, what should be there. Is the memory there­fore without the minde, or rather is it not within it? how then is not the mind suffici­ent to conteyne all it selfe?

6. A wonderfull admirati­on surprizes me, and an asto­nishment seazes me vpon this: that men go abroad to admire the heights of mountaines, the lofty billowes of the sea, the long courses of riuers, the vast compasse of the Ocean, and the circular motions of the starres, and yet leaue them selues vnadmired. And that more is, all these things which I spake of, I did not then see thē with mine eyes; yet could I not haue spoken of them, vn­lesse those mountaines & bil­lowes, and Riuers, and starres, which I haue seene, and that [Page 598] Ocean which I beleeue to be, I had already seene inwardly in my memory, yea with such vast spaces betweene, as if I had verily seene them abroad. Yet did not I swallow them into me by seeing, when as with mine eyes I beheld them: Nor are the things themselues now within me, but the Ima­ges of them onely. And I di­stinctly know by what sence of the body, each of these tooke impression in mee.

CHAP. 9. The memory of diuers Sci­ences.

1. ANd yet is not this all, that this vnmeasurable capacity of my memory beares in minde. Here also bee all these precepts of those liberall Sciences as yet vnfor­gotten; [Page 599] coucht as it were fur­ther off in a more inward place, though properly no place: nor is it the Images Here by putting in of Onely, he quite marres the sense. of the precepts which I beare, but the Sciences themselues. For, what Grammar, or Logike is, how many kinds of Questions there bee, whatsoeuer of all these I know, tis in such man­ner in my memory, as that I haue not meerely taken in the Image, and left out the thing, as though the noyse of it ha­uing sounded, is againe vani­shed, like a voyce left in the care by the Sicut vox impressa, per oures vestigio quo quasi sonaret, cúm iam non sonaret The for­mer Trans­lateris lost; makes a meere noyse one­ly. Vestigium is that impression, scale or marke, that a thing leaues behinde it, which in Songs, Mu­sicions call the Ayer. The print of the hares foote, is the vestigium to the dogs eye; but the sent left in it, is the vestigium to his nose. The memory (that is the bearing still in minde) needs not this: but tis the remembring or the recalling to me­mory that needs this vestigium, to discourse and hunt vpon, for recouery of the lost notion. ayre of it, wher­by it was to be called into memory, againe, as if it now [Page 600] presently sounded, whenas in­deede it doth not sound. Or like an Odour, euen while it passes away and is fann'd in­to wind, does affect the smel­ling; whence it conueighs the Image of it selfe into the me­mory, which remembring, we smell ouer againe: or like meate, which verily in the belly hauing now no taste; hath a kinde of relish in the memory still: or like any thing that is by touching sen­sibly felt by the body, which also being taken away, is not­withstanding in our memo­ry imagined by vs still. For surely the things themselues are not let in into the memory, but the Images of them onely are with anadmirable swift­nes catcht in, & in most wor­derfull cabiners stoard vp; whence they are as wonder­sully fetcht out againe, by the Act of remembring.

CHAP. 10. Our Sences conueigh things vnto our memory.

1. BVt now when I heare that there bee three kinds of questions, Whether the thing bee? What it is? and of what rature it is? I doe in­deed hold fast the Images of the sounds, of which those word; be cōposed, which I alsoknow to be, toge her with the noyse passed in by my eares not to be now in any being at all. As for the things themse lues which are signified by those sounds, I neuer so much as reacht them with any sence of my body, nor euer discernd them otherwise then by my very minde; yet haue I layd vp not their Images onely, but their very selues. Which how [Page 602] they gate in into me, let others tell if they can: I for mine owne part haue runne ouer all the Cinque-ports of my flesh, but cannot finde by which they gat in.

2. For mine eyes they say; that if those Images were co­loured, twas wee then that brought tydings of them. The eares they say, If they gaue any sound, then twas we gaue no­tice of them. The Nosthrills they say, If they had any smell, then they passed in by vs. The sence of tast that sayes, Vnlesse they had a sauour with them, neuer aske me for them. The Touch that sayes, Were it not a body, I handled it not; and if I neuer handled it, then I gaue no notice of it. Looke now, whence and which way gat these things into my memo­ry? I for my part know not how. For when I first learned them, I gaue not credit to [Page 603] another mans heart, but I tooke knowledge of them in mine; and approouing them for true, I recommended them ouer vnto my heart, there laying them vp as it were, where I might fetch them agayne, wheneuer I de­sired. In my heart therefore they were euen before I lear­ned them, but in my memory they were not. Where were they then? or wherefore, when as they were spoken of, did I acknowledge them, and affirmed So it is, and it is true, vnlesse because they were al­ready in my memory; though so farre off yet, and crowded so farre backeward as it were into certaine secret caues, that had they not beene drawne out by the aduice of some o­ther person, I had neuer per­chance beene able so much as to haue thought of them?

CHAP. 11. The Species The Species be the fore notes or notions of things. Scaliger. And these Species be indeed in the Soule, not diffused through­out all, but seated in the vnder­standing principally Aristotle l. 3. de Ani­ma, cap. 4. which vn­derstanding is the Intel­lectiue me­mory. of things are in the soule.

1. VVHerfore we find, that to learne these things whose Images we sucke not in by our Sences, but perceiue within by them­selues, without Images, as they are; is nothing else, but by meditating to gather toge­ther, and by diligent marking, to take notice of those same notions which the memory did before contayne more scatte­ringly and confusedly; that so, being orderly and at hand as it were layd vp in the me­mory, (where before they lur­ked vncollected and neglect­ed) they may more easily make proffer of themselues vnto our intention For Spe­cies Inten­tionales, See the Philoso­phers See [...] note vp­on pag. 3. [...]2 now made familiar vnto them.

[Page 605] 2. And how many of this kinde does my memory still beare in mind which are found out already, and as I sayd, rea­dy at hand as it were; which yet we are sayd to haue He ap­peares to be of the Platonist mind, and that to Know was nothing but to Remember. lear­ned and to haue knowne: which if I should giue ouer to call to minde but for some short space of time, they be­come so drowned againe, and so giue vs the slip, as it were, backe into such remote and priuy lodgings, that I must be put againe vnto new paines of meditation, for recouery of them to their former perfecti­on. For other Quarter to re­tyre The brayne hath no Cell to put forgotten notions in. vnto they haue not: but they must be rallied and drawne together againe, that they may bee knowne; that is to say, they must as it were be collected and gathered together from their dispersions: whence the word Hee meanes, that to thinke or meditate vpon a note, is to gather to­gether the scattered notions of it. cogitatiō is deriued. For Cogo & Cogito are of the [Page 606] same forme, as Ago and Actito, Facio and Factito. Notwith­standing hath the mind of man so properly layd clayme vnto this word (Cogitation) as that now, not that which is gathered together in any o­ther place, but in the mind one­ly, (that is drawne together,) is by custome of speech pro­perly now sayd to bee (cogi­tated or) thought vpon.

CHAP. 12. The Memory of Mathema­ticians.

1. THe Memory contay­neth also the reasons and innumerable lawes of Numbers and Dimensions; none of which hath beene by any Sence of the body imprin­ted in it: seeing they haue ney­ther colour, nor sound, nor taste [Page 607] nor small, nor feeling. I haue heard the sounds of those words by which these things are signified, when as they haue beene argued vpon: but the sounds are of another na­ture from the things. For the sounds are one way in Greeke, and another in Latine: but the things themselues are neyther Greeke, nor Latine, nor any o­ther Language.

2. I haue likewise seene the lines drawne by Architects, euen as small as the thred of a Spiders web; but these are of another kinde; they are not the Images of those Dimensi­ons, For the Dimensions were Thick and Broad, but the lines, ney­ther. which mine eye of flesh shewed vnto me. He know­eth them, who soeuer with­out any thought of heart whatsoeuer, acknowledges them within himself. I haue al­so perceiued euen with all the the sences of my body, those num­bers which wee number; but [Page 608] those numbers by which wee make our account, are far dif­ferent from those numbers which wee make our account vpon; nor are they the Ima­ges of these, and therefore are they diuerse I read it variae sunt, and not valde sunt as the printed copyes haue it. from them. Let him now laugh at me for these things, who vnderstands them not; and I will pitty him, whilest hee derides me.

CHAP. 13. The Memory of Affections.

1. ALL these things I well remember, and how I first learnt them doe I well re­member. Many things most falsely obiected against these things, haue I both heard, and doe yet remember: which though they bee false, yet is it not false that I haue remem­bred [Page 609] them; and that I haue discerned withall, betwixt these truths and these false­hoods, which are obiected a­gainst them. And this I re­member too; and I perceiue my selfe to discerne these things one way now, and remember my selfe to haue oftentimes discerned them o­therwaies, whenas I often thought vpon them. That I haue therefore vnderstood these things heretofore, doe I remember often; and what I now discerne and vnderstand, doe I lay vp in my memory, that hereafter I may remem­ber how I haue vnderstood it now. Therefore also doe I now remember myselfe to haue re­membred; like as if hereafter I shall call to remembrance, that I haue been able to remember these things now; it shalbe by the force of my memory, that I shall bee able to call it to re­membrance.

[Page 610] 2. My Memory contaynes al­so the Affections of my mind, not in the same manner that my minde it selfe contaynes them, whenas it suffers them: but farre another way, like as the force of the Sicut sese habet vis memoriae. This he turnes. As that it de­scendeth onely vpon the force of the memory. Memory containes it selfe. For euen then when I am not merry, yet doe I remember my selfe to haue beene merry hereto­fore; and when I am not sad, yet doe I call to minde my forepassed sadnesse. And that I haue beene afrayd hereto­fore, I now remember with­out feare; and I sometimes call to minde a forepast desire, without any desire at all, now. Sometimes on the contrary, in a fit of ioy doe I remember my forepassed sorrow, and in a sad moode, call I to minde the ioy that I haue sometimes enioyed.

CHAP. 14. How, when we are not glad, wee call to mind things that haue made vs glad.

1. VVHich is not to bee wondered at, if meant of the body; for the minde is one thing, and the body another. If I therefore with ioy remember some pas­sed paine of body, 'tis not so strange a thing. But now see­ing this Minde is the very same which the memory, (for that when we giue command to haue a thing kept in memo­ry, we say; Looke to it, that you heare this well in mind: and so, when we forget a thing, wee say; It was in my mind euen now, and, 'tis quite slipt out of my minde, calling the memory the minde:) seeing therefore so it is, how comes this to passe, [Page 612] that when in a cheerfull veyn I remember a sad passage, my minde thinking vpon ioy, and my memory at the same time vpon sadnesse: my mind vpon the ioyfulnesse it conceiues, is full of ioy, and yet my me­mory vpon the sadnesse that is in it, is not sad; does not the memory perchance be­long vnto the minde? Who will say so? Doubtlesse there­fore the memory is as it were the belly of the mind; and ioy and sadnesse, like sweete and sowre meate, which when they are committed vnto the memory, bee as it were passed away into the belly; where stowage they may haue, but taste none at all. Ridiculous it is to imagine these to be alike; and yet are they not vtterly vnlike.

2. But behold, this also bring I out of my memory. whenas I say there bee foure [Page 613] perturbations of the minde, desire, ioy, feare, and sorrow: and how farre soeuer I am able to dispute vpon these heads, both by deuiding the whole, each into his parts, and by defyning: in my memory finde I what to say, and out of my memory doe I bring it: yet am I not moued for all this, with any of these Per­turbations, whenas by calling them to minde, I doe remem­ber them; yea, and before I recalled and meditated them ouer, n my memory they were, and therefore by calling to mind might they very well be fetcht from thence. Perchance therefore, euen as meate is by chewing of the Cud, brought vp againe out of the belly, so by recalling, are these brought vp out of the me­mory. Why therefore does not the disputer perceiue the taste of it in the mouth [Page 614] of his Musing? why does not the remēberer feele (I meane) the swiftnes of ioy, & the bit­ternesse of sorrow? is the com­parisō vnlike in this, that it is not euery way the like? Who then would willingly discourse of these subiects, if so oft as we name griefe or feare, so oft we should be compelled to be sad or fearefull? and yet could we neuer spoake of them, did we not finde in our memory, not the sounds of the names alone according to their Ima­ges imprinted in it by the Sen­ces of the body, but euen the very notions of the Things themselues which wee neuer receiued in, by any of the Cinque-parts of our body, but which the very minde it selfe made sensible of by the expe­rience of its owne passions, hath committed vnto the memory; or else which the memory hath of it selfe retai­ned, [Page 615] being neuer committed vnto it.

CHAP. 15. Wee remember absent things also.

1. BVt whether all this bee done by the Images or no, who can readily affirme? For when, for example, I name a Stone, I name the Sunne at such time as the things themselues are not before my Sences; yet euen then doe I conceiue the Images of them. I name some bodily paine, yet I doe not feele it whenas no­thing akes about me: yet for all this, vnlesse the Image were in my memory, I should neuer know what I sayd, nor should in discoursing diserne payne from pleasure.

2. I name bodily health; [Page 616] whenas I am found in body, the thing it selfe is present with me; and yet for all this, vnlesse the Image of health al­so were fixed in my memory, I could by no meanes recall into my remembrance, what the sound of this name should sig­nifie: nor would sicke people know when health were na­med, what were spoken, vn­lesse the Image thereof were preserued by the force of the memory, although the thing it selfe were far enough from the body. I name some num­bers by which we accompt, and they are in my memory; not their Images, but themselues. I name the Image of the Sunne, and that image is also in my memory. Nor doe I call to minde the image of that image, but the image it selfe; that is it which is present with me, whenas I remember it. I name Memory, and I ac­knowledge [Page 617] what I name. But where doe I acknowledge it, but in my memory it selfe? May the memory it selfe bee present vnto it selfe by its owneimage, or not by it selfe rather?

CHAP. 16. There is a memory of forget­fulnesse also.

1. VVHen I name for­getfulnesse, and ac­knowledge it withall; whence should I acknowledge what to name, did I not remember it? I speake not now of the sound of the name, but of the thing w ^ch it signifies: which if I had forgotten, I could ne­uer acknowledge what that sound signified. When there­fore I remember memory, then is the memory it selfe [Page 618] present with mee [...]: but when I name both forget­fulnes and memory too, then is forgetfulnesse present also. Memory is present by which I haue remembred; forgetful­nes is present by which I haue not remembred. But what is forgetfulnesse, but a priuation of memory? How then is that present for mee to remember, which when it is so, I cannot remember? Now, if wee re­member any thing, wee hold it in memory; yet forgetful­nesse, vnlesse wee did remem­ber it, we could neuer at hea­ring of the name, acknow­ledge the thing that is signi­fied by the sound. Forgetful­nesse is retayned in the memo­ry. Present therefore it is, that we might not forget it, which when it is not, wee doe for­get it. Is it to bee vnderstood by this, that forgetfulnesse is not present vntō the memory [Page 619] (whenas we remem [...]er it) by it selfe, but by its Image, be­cause of it were present by it selfe, it would cause vs not to remember, but to forget?

2. Who now shall search out that? who shall compre­hend how that should bee? For mine owne part, Lord, I yet labour vpon this, yea and A second doubt. I labour in any selfe, and am become a soyle that requires hard labour and very much sweate. For wee are not now quartering out the regions of heauen, or taking the distan­ces of the Starres, or deuising where the hinges of the earth should hang. It is I my selfe that remember, I the Mind. 'Tis then no such wonder, if the knowledge of that bee farre from mee, which I my selfe am not. But what is nea­rer to mee then my selfe? Yet loe, am not I able to compre­hend the force of mine owne [Page 620] memory; no, though I cannot so much as call my selfe my selfe, without it. For what shall I say, when I see it so cer­tayne that I remember for­getfulnesse? Shall I say that that is not in my memory, which I remember? or shall I say that forgetfulnesse is for this purpose in my me­mory, that I might not for­get? Both these are most ab­surd.

3. What is to bee thought of this third doubt? How can A third doubt. I say that the Image of for­getfulnesse is kept in memo­ry, and not forgetfulnesse it selfe, whenas I doe remem­ber it? with what colour may I affirme this also, seeing that when the Image of any thing is imprinted in the me­mory, tis necessary that the thing it selfe bee present first, by which that image may bee imprinted? For in this sort [Page 621] doe I remember Carthage, and all other places where I haue beene: thus remem­ber I mens faces also, whom I haue seene, and the Reports of the other Sences: Nuntiata. thus doe I too, with the health or sicknesse of the bo­dy. For when these obiect, were present with mee, my memory receiued their ima­ges from them; which as e­uer present, I might looke vn­to and repeate ouer in my mind, when-euer I desired to remember the obiects them­selues which were absent. If therfore this forgetfulnesse should be held in memory by meanes of its image, and not immediately by it selfe, then plainely, hath it selfe beene sometimes present, that its i­mage might be then taken. But (now) when it was present, how did it write that image in the memory, seeing the proper­ty [Page 622] of forgetfulnes is, by its pre­sence, to blot out what euer it finds there noted? Well! which way soeuer it bee, not­withstanding that way bee past conceiuing, and expres­sing; yet most certaine I am, that I doe well remember this same forgetfulnesse, by which whatsoeuer else wee remem­ber, is defaced.

CHAP. 17. A threefold power of me­mory.

1. GReat is this power of Memory; a thing, O my God, to bee amazed at, a very profound and infinite multiplicity: and this thing is the minde, and this thing am I. What am I therefore, O my God? What kinde of nature am I? A life various and full [Page 623] of changes, yea vehemently in­sariable. Behold, in those in­numerable fields, and dennes, and caues of my memory, in­numerably full of innumerable kinds of things, brought in, first, eyther by the Images, as 1 all bodies are: secondly, or by the presence of the things 2 themselues, as the Arts are: thirdly, or by certaine notions 3 or impressions, as the Affecti­ons of the mind are, which e­uen then when the mind doth not suffer, yet does the me­mory retayne; for that what­soeuer is in the mind, is also in the memory. Thorow all these doe I runne and tumble; my­ning into them on this side, and on that side, so sarre as euer I am able, but can finde no bottome. So great is the force of memory, so great is the force of this life of man, euen whilest hee is mor­tall. 2

[Page 624] 2. What am I now to doe, O thou my true life, my God? I will passe euen beyond this faculty of mine which is cal­led memory: yea, I will passe beyond it, that I may ap­proach vnto thee, O sweete light. What sayest thou to me now? See, I am now moun­ting vp by the steps of my soule, towards [...]hee who dwellest aboue mee. Yea I will passe beyond this faculty of mine which is called me­mory, desirous to touch thee, so farre as thou mayest bee touched; and to cleaue fast vnto thee, where thou art to be layd hold vpon. For euen the beasts and birds haue me­mory; else could they neuer find their dennes and nests a­gaine; nor those many other things which they are vsed vnto: nor indeede could they euer enure themselues vnto any thing, but by their me­mory. [Page 625] I will passe beyond my memory therfore, that I may arriue at him who hath sepa­rated me from the foure-foo­ted beasts and the fowles of the ayre, making mee wiser then they: yea I will soare be­yond mine owne memory. But where shall I finde thee, O thou truely good, and thou secure sweetnesse? But where shall I bee able to finde thee?

CHAP. 18. Of the Remembrance.

1. IF I now finde thee with­out my memory, then am I vnmindfull of thee: and how shall I finde thee, if I doe not remember thee? The woman that had lost her greate, and sought it with [Page 626] a light; vnlesse shee had re­membred it, shee had ne­uer found it. For when it was found, whereby should shee haue knowne whether it were the same or no, had shee not remembred it? I remem­ber many a thing that I haue both lost, and found againe: whereby knew I that? euen because that when I was seek­ing for any of them, and some­body askt me, Is this it, or is that it? so long sayd I no, vn­till that were offered mee which I sought for: which had I not remembred (what­euer it were) though it were offered mee, yet should I not finde it, because I could not acknowledge it. And at the same passe still we are, as often as wee finde what we sought for.

2. Notwithstanding, when any thing is by chance lost frō the eyes, not frō the memory [Page 627] (as euery visible body) yet the Image of it is kept still within, and is sought for vntill it bee againe restored vnto the sight: which when it is found, is knowne againe by the Image which is within: Nor doe we say that wee haue found what we haue lost, vnlesse we know it againe; nor can wee know it to bee the same, vnlesse wee remember it. This was onely lost to the eyes, but surely pre­serued in the memory.

CHAP. 19. What Remembrance is.

1. VVHen now the me­mory it selfe lo­ses any thing, (as it falls out whenas we forget any thing) and seekes out for the recoue­ry of it; where at last doe we search, but in the memory it [Page 628] selfe? where, if one thing bee offered in stead of another, wee so long refuse it, vntill wee meete that which wee seeke for: which so soone as we haue met withall, we say, This is it: which we could ne­uer doe, did wee not know it to bee the same: and neuer could we doe that, vnlesse we did remember it. Certainely therefore wee had forgotten it; yet all of it had not slipt vs: but by that part whereof wee had some hold, was the lost part sought for; because the memory now feeling that it did not beare about so much of it together, as it had wont to doe, and halting as it were vpon the may me receiued in the losse of what it had beene vsed vnto; it eagerly layes about to haue that made vp againe, which was wan­ting. Like as some knowne man, (eyther seene or thought [Page 629] on) if hauing forgotten his name, we study to recouer it: what euer name but his comes into our memory, it will not peize in with it; and all, be­cause that name was neuer v­sed to bee thought vpon toge­ther with that man: which name therfore is so long reiect­ed, vntil that at length presents it selfe vnto the memory; with which, as hauing, beene acquainted with the know­ledge of, it may euenly iump in withall. And from whence does that name present it selfe, but out of the memory? for when being put in minde by some other man, wee know it to bee the same, 'tis by vertue of the memory. Nor doe wee now beleeue it as any new name, but vpon the assurance of our Remem­brance, doe wee allow it to be the same that was named to vs.

[Page 630] But were the name vtterly blotted out of the minde, we should not then remember it, when we were againe put in minde of it. For wee haue not vtterly as yet forgotten that, which wee remember our selues to haue forgotten. That lost notion therefore, which wee haue vtterly forgotten, shall we neuer be able so much as to seeke after.

CHAP. 20. All men desire blessednesse.

1. HOw then doe I seeke after thee, O Lord? For when I seeke thee, my God, I seeke an happy life. I will seeke thee, that my soule may liue. For my body, that liueth by my soule: and my soule by thee. Which way then doe I seeke for an happy [Page 631] life? seeing it is not to bee found, vntill I can say It is enough in that place, where I am to say it. How seeke I it? Whether by way of Re­membrance, as one that had forgotten it, and yet remem­ber my selfe to haue forgotten it? Or, by way of appetite to learne it as a thing vnknown; which eyther I neuer knew, or at least to haue so farre for­gotten it, as that I doe not so much as remember that I haue forgotten it? Is Here the other Translater negligent­ly mis-read his copie. nor an hap­py life the thing which all de­sire; and is there any man that some way or other desires it not? But where gate they the knowledge of it, that they are so desirous of it? where did they euer see it, that they are now so enamored of it? True­ly we haue it, but which way, I know not: yea, there is a certaine other way, which when any hath, hee is euen [Page 632] then blessed. And some there bee, that bee blessed in hope. These haue it in a meaner kind, then those who are in posses­sion: who yet are much bet­ter then such as are neyther blessed in deede, nor in hope: which very same men for all this, had they it not in some sort or other, would not so much as desire to bee happy; which that they doe desire, is most certaine.

2. How they come to know it, I cannot tell: and therefore haue they it by, I know not, what secret notice; concer­ning which, in much doubt I am, whether it bee in the memory or no: which if it bee, then should wee some­times haue beene blessed here­tofore.

But whether euery man should haue beene so happy as seuerally considered in himselfe, or as in the loynes [Page 633] of that Adam man who first sin­ned, and in whom wee are all dead, and from whom being descended, wee are all borne with misery; I now inquire not: but this I demaund, whether this bles­sed life bee in the memory, or no? For, neuer should wee loue it, did wee not know it. Wee heare the name, and we all confesse our desire vnto the thing: for wee are not delighted with the sound onely.

For when a Grecian heares the name sounded in Latine, he is no wayes delighted, for that hee knowes not what is spoken; but wee Latines are delighted with it, euen as he is, if hee heares it pronounced in Greeke: because the thing it selfe is neyther Greeke nor Latine, the attayning whereof both Greekes and Latines doe so earnestly looke [Page 634] after, like as the men of other Languages doe. Knowne ther­fore vnto all it is and could they with one voyce bee de­manded, Whether they would be happy or no? without doubt they would all answer, That they would. And this could not bee, vnlesse the thing it selfe expressed by this name, were still reserued in their memory.

CHAP. 21. We also remember, what we ne­uer had.

1. BVt is it so in memory as Carthage is to a man that hath seeue it? No. For a blessed life is not to bee seene with the eye, because it is not a body. Doe wee then so re­member it, as wee doe num­bers? Neyther. For these, hee [Page 635] that already hath in his know­ledge, seekes not further to at­tayne vnto. As for blessed lofe, wee haue that already in our knowledge, therefore doe we loue it, and yet desire to at­taine, that wee may bee bles­sed.

Doe wee remember it then, as we doe eloquence? Nor so. For although some vpon hea­ring of the name, doe there­upon call to minde the thing, who yet were neuer eloquent, and many doe it, that desire to bee so, whereupon it ap­peares to bee already in their knowledge: yet hauing by their outward Sences obser­ued others to bee more elo­quent, they are both delighted at it, and desire to be so them­selues: notwithstanding, if by their outward notice they had not obserued it, they could not haue beene delight­ed with it; nor to be eloquent, [Page 636] but that they were delighted with such as were eloquent. But what this blessed life should be, wee can by no sence of our body get the experi­ence of.

2. Or is it so in memory, as the ioy is that wee remem­ber? perchance so indeede: for my ioy I remember euen whilest I am sadde; like as I doe a happy life, euen whilest I am vnhappy: nor did I e­uer with any bodily sence ey­ther see, or heare, or smell, or taste, or touch that ioy of mine: but I found it in my minde, wheneuer I re­ioyced; and the knowledge of it stucke so fast in my me­mory, that I was well able to call it to remembrance, with contempt sometimes, and with fresh desire other whiles, euen according to the diuer­sity of those things, for which I remembred my selfe to haue [Page 637] reioyced. For euen at vn­cleane thoughts, was I some­times ouerioyed; which cal­ling to minde againe, I now both detest and curse. And other whiles doe I ioy at good and honest thoughts, which I call to minde with some de­sire, although they perchance present not themselues; and therefore againe sad at it, doe I call to mind my former re­ioycing. Where therfore and when had I any feeling of a blessed life, that I should re­member, and loue, and de­sire it? Nor is it my desire alone, or of some few besides, but euery man verily would be happy; which, vnlesse by some certaine knowledge wee had notice of, wee should not with so certaine a will desire it.

3. But what is this? If two men bee askt whether they would goe to the [Page 638] warres; one, perchance, would answere that hee would, and the other, that he would not; but if both were askt, whe­ther they would bee happy, both of them would with­out all doubting affirme, that they desire it: nor for any other reason would this man goe to the warres, and the o­ther not, but to bee happy: For perchance, because that as one man reioyces vpon this occasion, and another vpon that; so doe all men agree in their desire of being happy: euen as they would agree, it they were asked, whether they desired to haue occasion of reioycing: (this I reade, Quod ip­sum gaudi­um; instead of At (que) ip­sum gaudi­um; alte­ring the confused interpunc­tions and poyntings. very ioy being the thing which they call the blessed life:) and that ioy, though one man obtaines by one meanes, and another man by another meanes, yet is this the thing agreed vpon that they all striue to attaine [Page 639] vnto, namely, that they may re­ioyce: which for that it is a thing, which no man can right­ly say, but that hee hath had some experience of, being therfore sound in the memory, is it called to knowledge, wheneuer the name of a blessed life is mentioned.

CHAP. 22. True ioy, is this blessed life.

1. FArre be it, O Lord, farre be it from the heart of thy seruant who heere confesseth vnto thee, farre be it from me to imagine, that for euery ioy that I reioyce withall, I should be made happy. For there is a ioy which is not granted vnto the vngodly; but vnto those onely which loue thee for thine owne sake; whose ioy thy selfe art. And [Page 640] this is the blessed life, to re­ioyce vnto thee, concerning thee, and for thy sake: this is the happy life, and there is no other. As for them that thinke there is another, they pursue another ioy, which is not the true one. Howeuer, their minde is not vtterly turned aside from some kind of resemblance of reioycing.

CHAP. 23. Ablessed life what, and where it is.

1. IT is not certaine therefore that all men desire to bee happy, for that those who haue no desire to reioyce in thee, (which to doe is the one­ly happy life.) doe not verily desire the happy life. Surely My MS. reades it Sane in stead of An, with­out an in­terroga­tiue. else is the sense imperfect. Gal. 5. 17. all mē desire this: but because the flesh lusteth against the Spirit, [Page 641] and the Spirite against the flesh, that they cannot do what they would, doe they fall vpon that which they are able to doe, resting themselues con­tented therewith: For be­cause, that they are not able to doe, they doe not will so ear­nestly, as were sufficient thorowly to make them able. For I demand of euery man, whether they had rather re­ioyce in the truth, or in the falsehood? They will as little doubt to say, In the truth, as they would to say, that they desire to be happy: For a happy life is a ioying in the truth: For this is a ioying in thee, who art the truth, O God my light, the health of my coun­tenance, and my God. This is the blessed life that all desire; this life which is only blessed, doe all desire to ioy in the truth is all mens desire. I haue had experience of diuers [Page 642] that would deceiue, but not a man that would willingly be deceiued. Where therefore gaynd they the knowledge of this happy life, but euen there, where they learned the truth also? yea verily they loue this truth, for that they would not be deceiued: & whenas they loue a happy life (which is no­thing else but a ioying in the truth) then also doe they loue the truth: which yet they would not loue, were there not some notice of it remay­ning in their memory.

2. Wherefore then ioy they not in it? why are they not blessed? euen because they are more strongly taken vp with other things which haue more power to make them miserable, then that hath to make them happy, which they remember so little of. For there is a dimme glimmering of light yet vn-put-out, in [Page 643] men: let them walke, let them walke, that the darknesse ouer­take them not. Why now should truth bring forth ha­tred, and thy Minister become enemy vnto them, whom hee preaches the truth vnto; when as a happy life is loued; which is nothing else, but a ioying in the truth: ‘vnlesse the reason bee, because truth is in that kinde loued, that all, which loue any other thing, would gladly haue that to bee the truth, which they so loue:’ who, because they would not willingly bee deceiued, would not therefore be conuinced of a falsehood? Therefore doe they hate the truth, for the same reason, which they loue instead of the truth.

They loue truth when it enlightens them, but they hate it when it reprehends them. For because they would not willingly bee deceiued, and [Page 644] fayne would deceiue; doe they loue it, when it discouers it selfe vnto them; but they hate it, when it discouers them to others. But thus shall it pay them in their owne coyne; be­cause, those who would not haue themselues discouered by it, euen those in despite of their teeth shall it vncase; and yet not reueale it selfe vnto them. Thus thus; yea very thus, yea iust thus, desires this pore-blinde, this lazie, this slouenly, and this ill-behau'd minde of man, to muffle vp it selfe from the view of others; but that any thing should bee conceald from it, it desires not But the quite contrary does befall it; for that it cannot lye vndiscouered from the truth; but the truth shall bee veyld vp from it. Yet this minde of man not withstanding, euen thus wretched as it is, takes [Page 645] ioy rather in truths then in falsehoods. Happy therefore shall it one day bee, if no dis­traction interloping, it shall settle its onely ioy vpon that Truth, by which all things else are true.

CHAP. 24. That the memory containeth God too.

SEE now, how I haue cour­sed ouer all my memory in search of thee, O Lord; and no where could I find thee, with­out it. Nor haue I found any thing at all concerning thee, but what I haue kept in me­mory, euer since the time that I first learnt thee: nor haue I euer forgotten thee, since the houre I first learnt thee; for where I sound Truth, there [Page 646] found I my God who is the truth it selfe; which from the time I first learnt it; haue I not forgotten. Since therefore I learnd to know thee, hast thou still kept in my memory: and there doe I finde thee when euer I call thee to re­membrance, and delight my selfe in thee. These be my holy delights, which thou hast be­stowed vpon me through thy mercy, which had respect vn­to my pouerty.

CHAP. 25. In what degree of the memory God is found.

1. BVt whereabouts in my memory is thy resi­dence, O Lord? where about there abidest thou? what ki [...] of lodging hast thou there f [...] ­med for thy selfer what man­ner [Page 647] of Sanctuary hast thou builded for thy selfe? Thou hast afforded this honour vnto my memory, as to reside in it; but in what quarter of it, that am I now considering vpon. For I haue already passed be­yond such parts of it, as are common to mee with the beasts, whilest I called thee to mind, (for as much as I found not thee there amongst the I­mages of corporeall things:) & I proceeded to these parts of it, whither I had recommen­ded the Affections of my mind: nor could I finde thee there. Yea I passed further in­to it, euen to the very seate of the minde it selfe (which is there in my memory, as ap­peares by the mindes remem­bring of it selfe:) neyther wert thou there: for that as thou art not eyther any corpo­real image, no more art thou any Affection of a liuing man; like [Page 648] as when wee reioyce, condole, desire, feare, remember, for­get, or whatsoeuer else we doe of the like kinde: No nor yet art thou the minde it selfe; because thou art the Lord God of the minde. Moreouer, all these are changed, whereas thou remaynest vnchangeable ouer all; who yet vouchsafest to dwell in my memory, e­uen since that first time that I learnt to know thee. But why seeke I now, in what particu­lar place of my memory thou dwellest, as if there were any places at all in it? Sure I am, that in it thou dwellest: euen for this reason, that I haue pre­serued the memory of thee, since the time that I first learnt thee: and for that I finde thee in my memory, whensoeuer I call thee to remembrance.

CHAP. 26. Whereabouts God is to bee found.

1. VVHere then did I finde thee, that I might learne thee? For in my memory thou wert not, be­fore I learn'd thee. In what place therefore did I find thee, that so I might learne thee, but euen in thine owne selfe, farre aboue my selfe? Place there is none; wee goe backward and forward, but particular place there is none to containe thee. Euery where O truth, art thou President of the Councell to those that aske Counsell of thee, and at one dispatch doest thou answere all, yea though they aske thy counsell vpon diuers matters. Clearely doest thou answere them, though all doe not clearely vnderstand [Page 650] thee. ‘All may aduise with thee about what they will, though they alwayes heare not such answer as they desired. Hee is thy best seruant, that lookes not so much to heart that from thee, which him­selfe desireth; as hee that is willing with that rather, which from thee hee hea­reth.’

CHAP. 27. How God drawes vs to him­selfe.

1. TOO late beganne I to loue thee, O thou beat­ty both so ancient and so fresh, yea too too late came I to loue thee. For behold, tho [...] wert within mee, and I out o [...] my selfe, where I made search for thee; deformed I, wooing these beautifull pieces of th [...] [Page 651] workmanship. Thou indeede wert with me; but I was not with thee: these beauties kept mee farre enough from thee: euen those, which, vn­lesse they had their Being in thee, should not be at all. Thou calledst, and criedst vnto mee, yea thou euen brakest open my deafenesse. Thou disco­ueredst thy beames, and shy­nedst out vnto mee, and didst chase away my blindnesse. Thou didst most fragrantly blow vpon me, and I drew in my breath and panted after thee. I tasted thee, and now doe bunger and thirst after thee. Thou didst touch mee, and I euen burne againe to enioy peace thy.

CHAP. 28. The misery of this life.

1. VVHen I shall once attaine to be vni­ted vnto thee in euery part of me, then shall I no more feele eyther sorrow, or labour: yea, then shall my life truely bee a­liue, euery way full of thee. Whereas now verily, for that whom thou fillest, thou al­so raysest, am I a burthen vn­to my selfe, because I am not full of thee. The ioyes of this my life which deserue to bee lamented, are at strife with my sorrowes which are to bee re­ioyced in: but which way the victory wil incline. I yet know not. Woe is me O Lord, haue pitty on mee; My sorrowes that be bad, are in contention with my ioyes that bee good: and which way the victory will encline, I yet know not. [Page 653] Alasse for mee, O Lord, haue pitty vpon mee. Woe is mee; behold, I hide not my wound [...]: thou art the Physician, and I the Patient: thou mercifull, and I miserable; Is not the life of man vpon earth a very temptation?

‘2. Who is hee that would willingly endure troubles and difficulties? These thou com­mandest to bee borne, not to beloued: for no man is in loue with the crosse which hee takes vp, though hee loues well enough to take it vp. For notwithstanding that he reioyces to beare, yea much rather had hee that there were no crosse for him to beare.’ In aduersity, I desire prosperity, and in prosperity am I afraid of aduersity: what middle place now is there be­twixt these two, where this life of man is free from temp­tation? Woe is threatned vn­to [Page 654] the prosperity of this world againe, & againe; both for the feare of aduersity, and lest our ioy should bee marred. Woe vnto the aduersities of this word, againe and againe, yet woe the third time vnto them: and that because of the great desire men haue vnto prosperity. Aduersity there­fore being so hard a thing, and which makes Some compies reade it Na frangat roler anti­am, and o­thers, nau­fragat. shipwracke oft times of our patience, is not the life of man a ve­ry temptation vpon Earth, and that without intermis­sion?

CHAP. 29. Cur hope is all in God.

1. NOw is all my hope no where but in thy very great mercy, O Lord my God. [Page 655] Giue mee patience to endure what thou commandest, and then command what thou wilt. Thou imposest continen­cy vpon mee; and when I perceiued as one Ait qui­dam The pi [...]ce quo [...]ed [...] which slight men­ [...]t [...]ning of the Au­thor, hee giues vs to note, that he did not ranke this booke of Wisedome among the Canonicall Scriptures; nor quoted it as Gods word, but mans. One sayth St Augustine honors these Apocryphall bookes oftentimes by quoting them: but does not Canonize them. This same One sayth, hath the Popish Translater left out, as seeming too slight a phrase for his vneanonicall Apocry­pha. sayth, that no man can bee continent, vnlesse thou giue it, and that this was a point of wisedome to know whose gift it was. By continency verily, are wee bound vp and brought into vnity with thee; from whom wee were scat­tered abroad into many di­uisions: for needes must hee loue thee lesse, who loues any thing together with thee, which hee loues not for thee.