CHAP. I. Of several things which annoy the Senses.

HEnce it follows, That it is an unseemly practice, openly to handle any part of the body: Nor does it consist with good manners, to prepare for the easing of nature in publick view, or to truss up our clothes be­fore others when we return from per­forming that office; nay, he who comes from serving such necessi­ties (if he will take my counsel) shall not so much as wash his hands in peoples sight, because that action, though cleanly in it self, yet^(b) sug­gests to their minds the Idea of [Page 11] that which is foul and nasty. And for the same cause, it seems to be a very unhandsome custome, if one chance to spy in the high-way, or elsewhere, any noysome thing, to turn him presently to his companion, and to shew it him, as if it were a rare and a lovely spectacle: much lesse is it comely to offer another any thing that stinks (as many confi­dently do) and to urge him so im­portunately as to receive no denyal; and if he refuses, to thrust it to his nose, and then cry out, Prithee smell how abominably this stinks; when he should rather throw it a­way, and say, 'tis odious, you shall not smell it.

In like manner, it is indecent to incommode any other of the senses; as the ears are offended by gnashing and grating the teeth, and by break­ing [Page 12] wind,^(c) and by snorting and snuffing up the nose, and by rub­bing and knocking two stones to­gether, and by filing iron, and the like; and therefore we are to ab­stain from doing such things, as much as possibly we can. Neither must we think this one caution suf­ficient, but we ought industriously to refrain from singing, especially if the voice be immusical, or if there are none to make a consort, or if we are not desir'd to shew our skill. And yet, if we observe it, there are few that regard this;^(d) Nay commonly those who have no ca­dency or sweetness at all, but make as harsh a noise as a Mandrake, are [Page 13] readiest to transgress in this kind. And there are some, who when they cough or sneeze, do it with so shrill a sound, that they pierce through the heads of the standers by, and al­most strike them deaf; and (which is farr worse) do not turn away, but, after an inconsiderate and immodest sort, all to bespatter the faces of them they talk with. And you will meet with others, that, when they yawn, make as rude and ugly a noise, as a dog when he howls, or an asse when he brays; and notwithstanding that they gape as wide, as ever their mouths are able to stretch; yet they will not break off, but all the while, at least endeavour to continue their discourse, bellowing, to speak pro­perly, rather than talking, with a confused, and rude voice, resembling that of dumb persons, when with the utmost of their skill and power, [Page 14] they attempt and strain to set their imprison'd thoughts free. These several most unseemly behaviours, displeasing both to the eyes and ears, are studiously to be avoided.

It may farther usefully be added, That He who would be reputed a wel-bred man, ought to refrain from loud & frequent yawning, (a crime the^(e) Romans severely punish'd) and that not only for the reasons already alleadg'd, but also because it seems to proceed from a kind of weariness and disdain, and there­fore [Page 15] looks like no small affront; for he that often does so, intimates that he is quite tir'd and surfeited with the company, and desires to remove to some other place. And surely though one may be much in­clin'd to yawn, yet we find by ex­perience, that if some pleasant di­vertisement, or serious business in­tervene, and take possession of our minds, we easily forget to do it; whereas he who has no merry con­ceits, or grave meditations to take up his thoughts, but wholly gives himself over to a careless dulness, is presently apt to fall a yawning. And then it usually happens, that^(f) if one idle fellow gapes, all the rest, either out of a fond apishness, or secret sympathie gape too; as if he [Page 16] did but put them in mind of that, which had they remembred, them­selves without fail would have done before. And since in the Latine Dia­lect, to yawn, and to be negligent and slothfull, are phrases of the same importance; it is, I suppose, expedient, that this foolish custome should be relinquish'd, being un­grateful to the sight and hearing, and not a little to the stomack too; for (as I said before) whensoever we practise it, we appear to slight the society in which we are, by sig­nifying that it does not at all suit with our humour, and that alone is a reproach but few will patiently en­dure; besides, we disparage our selves, by giving a plain testimony of our sluggish and drowsie disposi­tion, which certainly renders us hugely unacceptable to those with whom we do converse.

Moreover, it is an uncomely thing by coughing, and hauking, to raise phlegm or corruption out of the breast and lungs; or after you have blown your nose, to open, and look upon, and rub your handkerchief, as if a pearl or a rubie were dropt into it, or some precious liquor distill'd from the brain. Such kind of slovenly misdemeanours are so far from procuring the esteem of a­ny, that they must needs breed loathing and detestation in all, in whose presence they are commit­ted: nay they are sufficient to pro­voke the contempt of those, who perchance were greatly dispos'd to love us. He that affects any sordid and nasty gesture, and yet hopes and desires to be belov'd, is un­doubtedly one of a shallow wit, as well as an unmannerly deportment: for 'tis just as if a foul slut that lies [Page 18] roling her self in an heap of ashes, at the same instant should strongly fancy, that by this course she shall intice some beautiful brisk young Gallant to make passionate addres­ses of Courtship to her; when by so doing she causes all men to fly from her, as from a toad, or swine that bemires her self in dirt & filth.

Neither is it a cleanly fashion for any to put his nose towards a glass of wine, which another is a­bout to drink, or to smell to that which is laid upon his neighbours trencher, no nor to that which him­self intends to eat or drink, because it has a shew of rudeness in it; it be­ing possible that some moisture may drop from the nostrils, and excite coy and squeamish stomacks to dis­gorge, or nauseate their meat, though perhaps it does not fall out so; and, if you will listen to my ad­vice, [Page 19] you shall never profer that cup or glass, out of which you are wont to drink, to any, unless to a very familiar friend: much less is it fit to give away that apple, or any other fruit, in which you have begun to set your teeth.^(g) Nor would I have you take liberty to laugh at, and neglect these cautions, because the particulars instanc'd in may seem to be but of light con­cern; for small wounds multiplied [Page 20] will let out the life, and a great number of narrow leakes endanger the sinking of the stateliest ship, and several minute drops of rain swell to an overflowing deluge, and many little indecencies corrupt our civil conversation.

There was, not many years ago, a Bishop of Verona (a fair City in the territories of Venice, where the famous Poet^(h) Catullus was born) well skill'd in all learning, divine & humane; His name was⁽ⁱ⁾ John Matthew Gilbert. This Prelate, a­mongst other excellent endow­ments and qualities that he was Master of, was of a very plausible and Gentile behaviour, and so ex­ceeding [Page 21] courteous and hospitable to all ingenuous and sober men, that his Palace was almost translated in­to an Inne; though in his enter­tainments he did not transgress the bounds of prudence and moderati­on, but constantly treated all his Guests, after such a discreet and handsom sort, as best became one of his sacred order. It chanc'd that a certain Noble man, whom they call'd Count Richard, as he pass'd that way, spent some dayes with this Bishop, and his Family, which consisted, for the greatest part, of persons eminent both for good lear­ning, and good manners too (as 'tis requisite a Prelates House should be a Model of Virtue, Knowledge, and Humanity) He had a gay and wel-polish'd wit, advanc'd above the or­dinary pitch of Noble men, by which he gain'd the applause of every one, [Page 22] and truly deserv'd to be highly va­lued, being a perfectly accomplish'd man, except only that his carriage was blemish'd with one infirmity. Which as soon as the acute Bishop espied, he discover'd it to some, with whom he was intimately ac­quainted; who although they were afraid by a sharp and hasty reprehen­sion to chastise, and offend this Noble Guest; yet at length they judg'd it worth the while to admonish him with a tender calmness. Wherefore the next day, when he was ready to take horse, and had bidden Adieu to all the company, the Bishop sent for one of the Wisest of his Hous­hold, and charg'd him that he should attend the Count, and conduct him part of his journey, and that as they travell'd along the rode, when a fair opportunity was offer'd, he should in a mild and friendly manner tell [Page 23] him what fault was observed in him. Now the Officer whom the Prelate imploy'd for the management of this affair, was a man of good yeares and gravity, of Singular learning, and transcendent civility, of a win­ning eloquence, and a countenance compos'd of mirth and sweetness, and one that had spent a great por­tion of his life in Princes Courts: His name was Galateus, and it was his direction and request that first induc'd me to write this book. Not long after they were mounted, he began to wind himself into a plea­sant discourse of diverse subjects; & when they had talk'd together a pretty space, and that it was almost time for him to think of returning to Verona, & the Count was impor­tunate with him to do so, and pro­fer'd to bring him back part of his way; Galateus, with a smiling aspect, [Page 24] and soft language, accosted him after this manner. My Lord; My Master renders you most humble thankes for the great obligation you have pass't upon him, in vouchsafing him a visit, and so long a stay in a place too mean to receive a person of so much merit and honour. He has injoyn'd me to let you know how deeply he resents this favour, and withal to present you, in his Name, with a special token of his Gratitude, which he earnestly beseeches you to accept, with an equal measure of candour and respect, to that where­with 'tis tendred to you. My Lord, the Boon is this, The Bishop accounts you one of the bravest and best-bred persons this Age can boast of, and thence was prompted w^ch more than ordinary curiosity to prie into your whole deportment, & upon his most exact research, can find nothing, [Page 25] but what he reputes worthy of cōmendation, and would pronounce you absolute, and without excepti­on, were it not for one custome you use, which seems to carry uncome­liness in it, to wit, as you are at Table eating your meat, you make a kind of whistling noise, by the motion of your mouth and lips, which offends the eares of the sitters by. This my Master commanded me to advertise you of, and desires that you will di­ligently reform so unhandsome a pra­ctice, and esteem this reproof and counsel, as the issue of a courteous ob­liging soul, and a peculiar testimony of his friendship; for he is verily perswaded, that few in the world besides himself would have been thus generous, and free, in commu­nicating so precious a largess as this correption, and therefore he hopes its rarity may enhaunce the value. [Page 26] The Count, who had never in all his life been admonish'd of this defect before, welcom'd it at first with an ingenuous ^(k) blush, and was almost dash'd out of countenance; but af­ter a very little space recollecting himself, he return'd this answer: I pray, tell the Bishop from me, That if the gifts men mutually confer, were but all as good as this, they would quickly be enrich'd without impoverishing one another (for in boons of this nature, the Donor imparts, and does not diminish his own stock) and give him my humble and hearty thanks for his singular humanity and beneficence many ways express'd towards me, but in no­thing so much as this last instance, and assure him that without fail, henceforth I shall most carefully a­mend this fault. In the mean time [Page 27] I bid you Farewell, and wish you safe at Verona.

How sharply, think ye, would this worthy Prelate, and his Noble retinue have censur'd those, who more like so many swine than men, put their noses into a mess of broth, and never once lift up their face or eyes, much less remove their hands from the dish; and that with their cheeks distended and swoln (as if they were sounding a trumpet, or blowing a fire) don't so properly eat, as devour their meat? VVhat would he have said to those, that grease themselves up to the elbow, & make their napkins look like dish­clouts, and yet are not asham'd to blow their noses on them, and some­times to wipe off the sweat, which, it may be through immoderate haste and eagerness in eating, trickles [Page 28] down from their forehead and face to their necks? In earnest, men or no better manners deserve, in my judgment, to be expell'd out of all cleanly company. VVherefore eve­ry one must take heed, that he do not so bedawb his fingers, as to dirty his napkin, because it loaths all that look upon it. 'Tis likewise an un­seemly fashion to break your bread into small morsels, or to crumble it to pieces.

They, whose office it is to wait at Table, must by no means scratch or rub their heads, or any other part of the body, in the sight of their Ma­ster, when he is at meat, or disclose, or handle that which ought to be cover'd, and let alone; or so much as do any thing like it, and by any immodest gesture represent a beastly thing. I have observ'd some unbred [Page 29] fellows, for want of due considerati­on, thrust their hands into their bo­some, or hide them under their gar­ments behind their back; whereas they should be in open view, and al­ways kept so white and neat, that not the least spot of dirt, or sign of filth should be seen upon them. And when they serve up meat to the Table, or give a glass of drink to any one, they must be hugely cau­tious of spitting, and coughing, and much more of sneezing; because such actions breed a jealousie, that some nastiness may have happen'd into the cup or platter, and that affects a nice fancy, and turnes a weak effe­minate stomack as much as though it should really be; And therefore servants ought to beware of giving their Masters any cause of suspicion: for the conceit of what might have been, is almost as irksome as if it [Page 30] were. VVhen you take a toste, or a rosted pear or apple from the fire, you must not blow away the coles or ashes, if any chance to cleave to it, lest some ill humour be conveigh'd along with your breath (for 'tis an old Pro­verb, that There's never any wind without some water) but rather shake them gently off, or wipe them with a fine cloth, or use some other pretty art to make it clean.

'Tis an unmannerly trick to wet your fore-finger in your mouth, & to print it in the salt-celler, and then to lick the salt that sticks to it. It is not handsome to reach out your nap­kin to another, under pretence that 'tis fairer than his; for that sug­gests to him (what perhaps he did not before take notice of) that his own is foul, and therefore probably may offend him. VVhen you are discoursing with any one, you must [Page 31] not draw so near, that your breath may reach him; for some can't en­dure anothers breath though it does not stink at all, but is a great deal sweeter than their own. These and all usages of the same kind, are apt ex­ceedingly to displease, and for that reason are to be abandon'd; for we must do nothing, that may annoy the senses of those with whom we live.

CHAP. II. Of Things repugnant to the Inclina­tions and Appetites of the genera­lity of Mankind.

AND now having discours'd of several actions, which are injurious to the senses; I shall proceed to treat of such, as are very disagree­able to the inclinations and desires of the greater part of mankind. To [Page 32] this purpose you may remark, that there are many things which men approve by common consent and in­stinct of Nature. 'Tis true; To the Angry and Malicious person, no­thing has so high a gust and relish as a bowl crown'd with his Enemies blood, and the delicious draught of a full revenge; To the Intemperate and Luxurious, dainty meats and generous wines are beyond Ambro­sia and Nectar: The Amorous is tickled with the soft whispers of lust, and ravish't with the sweetness of stolen pleasures, and plots to com­pass an unlawful bed; The gripling Usurer hugs his bags, and torments himself with cares and hardships, to heap up wealth for a prodigal Heir; The Ambitious affects grandeur, and breathes after popular applause, and projects to advance his Family, and to have his name written in Capital [Page 33] Letters in the Annals: And divers men have different designs, and va­rious appetites, which they study to indulge and pamper: but yet in civil conversation all seem to dis­like the misbehaviours I shall point at, and endeavour to reform. The other are matters of private regard; but those which concern the case in hand have relation to Mutual so­cietie.

In General, I shall prescribe this Rule. That 'tis extremely necessary and becoming, that a due observance and respect be paid to all we asso­ciate with, according to their qua­lity and degree. Superiors are to be reverenc'd; To Equals we must be kind, and affable; and Inferiors are to be gently handled. VVe ought neither to speak nor do any thing, that may argue want of just esteem [Page 34] of those, in whose company we are.

And hence it follows in particu­lar; That it is a very indecent cu­stome (and yet 'tis ordinarily practis'd) for men to compose them­selves to sleep, in a place where they are met to no other end, but with innocent mirth, and some harmless sport, to passe away two or three idle hours: for they that delibe­rately do so, plainly shew, that they little value the discourse, or persons of them they are with. It may also be added, that as one sleeps (especially if he lies not at ease) he may chance to do that which is unpleasant, both to the eyes, and the ears of others: For example; we often see that sweat runs down mens faces, when they are a-sleep, or else that they drivell at mouth, and all to be-slab­ber their beard and chin with spittle.

'Tis likewise, upon the same score, a rude and ungentile thing, to rise from a session of grave men, and disturb their serious discourse, by traversing the room, as it were for a wager. And you will find some that so move, and turn about, and screw themselves into strange postures and yawn, and cry out, and stretch their arms; as if they had a fit of an ague, or some other lazy disease upon them: an evident sign that they are weary of the company.

It is a vain glorious, and foolish trick to pull out of your pocket, and read, first one, and then another letter, and to hold them so, as the standers by may discern the titles given you in the superscription; for by this you seem willing to have it thought, that you are either ex­ceeding full of business, or mightily [Page 36] courted for your merit. Nor is it allowable, in my opinion, to draw out your scissers, or pen-knife, to clip, or pair your nails; or pick your teeth, and cleanse your ears, as if you judg'd it not worth the while, to talk, or listen to any pre­sent, and therefore sought some di­vertisement to trifle away, and de­ceive the time, which else would hang heavy upon your hands.

Moreover, 'tis expedient that we refrain from some other practices, much in use; VVe must not whistle, as though we were amongst horses, nor chirp and sing between our teeth; nor drum with our fin­gers upon a Table, nor throw out our legs, nor weave up & down; for by such odde ridiculous gestures we demonstrate, that we have but a small stock of discretion, and com­mon [Page 37] civility; and that we respect no body near us.

Besides, it is not at all comely, when you are weary, and have a mind to compose your self to rest, to turn your back to anothers face, or so to lay out your leg, that those parts which ought to be cover'd shall be exposed to open view; for this is a degree of boldness not fit to be pra­ctis'd, unless amongst those, with whom we have contracted a close friendship, and of whose censures we need not be afraid. Nevertheless, if a great person do such a thing before his domestick servant, or an acquain­tant of meaner rank, 'tis not to be in­terpreted as a token and instance of a proud and an insolent humour; but rather of familiarity and condescen­sion: for (as the^(l) Philosopher, and [Page 38] the^(m) Epigrammatist, have ob­serv'd) 'tis an argument we have a peculiar affection for them towards whom we presume to deport our selves with a great deal of freedom and confidence, and that without any inward controll or shame, which the bare sight of strangers restrains us from.

⁽ⁿ⁾Every one should stand and walk with his body upright, and not loll, like an idle lubber, upon ano­thers shoulders, as if he wanted a prop to hold him up.

You must not, whilest you are discoursing with another, make [Page 39] scurvy faces, or shrug your shoul­ders, but bear what is spoken with an even temper; nor must you (as many are wont to do) strike him you talk to ever and anon with your hand, or staff, or jog and push him with your elbow, and cry out al­most at the end of every sentence, Is not this true Sir? Have not I said right now? Is not this to the purpose? Pray what do you think on't Sir? What's your judgment of the Matter?

Concerning the Apparel, take the following Rules.

Let every one when he appears in publick be decently clad in all re­spects, according to his age and the quality of his condition, and the custome of the place wherein he lives: For he that does otherwise, seems to be of a cross and peevish di­sposition, [Page 40] and to affect singularity, and to contemn the common opi­nion and vogue of Men, and to be ambitious to prescribe to others.^(o) The Athenians sharply reproved Crates (and perhaps deservedly too, notwithstanding his Apologie for himself) because he (being but a Philosopher) wore a mantle of estate, which neither the renowned Theophrastus ^(p) (who was Master of no less than two thousand scholars) nor any before him was seen to do. 'Tis an old Rule, That^(q) when you are at Rome you must conform to the Roman manners, and when you are elsewhere, you must demean your self agreeably, for it holds good in all cities and nations whatever: [Page 41] And therefore the Citizens of Padua take it for a high indignity and af­front (believing it to be done in con­tempt of them) if a Noble Venetian walk their streets without a long robe (the proper habit and badge of his honour) in a short jump, as if he were in some petty Village. Nor is it sufficient that our garments be made of good cloth, but we are ob­lig'd to constraint our selves (as much as possibly we can by a firm per­swasion that 'tis most fit) to follow the garb of the country where we reside, and permit our fancies to be overpower'd, and led away by the present mode, although the clothes now in use, may not be so convenient in some regards, nor sit so neatly to the body (or at least seem not so to us) as those that were worn in for­mer times; for Custome is the Law & standard of Decencie in all things of [Page 42] this Nature. If all the people in the Kingdome cut their hair close to their eares, you must not let yours g [...]ow to an^(r) excessive length; or if generally they wear their beards long, yours is not to be shav'd all off; or if it be the fashion to go in Cuerpo, you must not have a coat down to your heels; because 'tis hugely un­reasonable, and absurd, to oppose your private wit and prudence to the judgment of a whole society, ex­cept you are desirous it should be said, that a third^(s) Cato is fallen down from Heaven, a new Censor and Reformer of manners. In our [Page 43] civil conversation, we are by no means to run counter to the major part, unless we are compell'd by an unavoidable necessity (of which I shall take occasion to speak anon) because this pragmatical temper ren­ders us more odious and intolerable, than any fault of this kind we can addict our selves unto. And there­fore there is no reason why in these and such like things, you should perfer your own phantastic [...] conceit, but instead of that, soberly comply with other men. For as when one appears, that is monstrously mis­shap'd, and that has a loath-some tawny complexion, and a face deeply furrow'd with wrinkles, and is set out with all the advantages of defor­mity, the multitude with great ama­zement, and scorn, fasten at once their eyes and reproaches upon him; just so it fares with him, who sleights [Page 44] the opinion and manners of others, and (being perfectly devoted to his own humour) comes out attir'd in an unusual antick dress; the people flock about, and gaze upon him, as if he were some African monster newly arriv'd; or a Generall that had conquer'd a whole Nation, and was solemly triumphing over it. Do but imagine, if a man should fortifie his neck wit [...] a yellow-starcht ruff of Musket-bore, [...]nd swell up his belly with a pair of b [...]mbast breeches, as though he had a tympany ready to bre [...]k, and stuff out his thighs and knees with large trunk-hose, and put upon his head a broad Helvetian hat, and venture abroad in this guise; how the footmen and lacqeys, and all the rabble of the town would run after, and hoot at, and almost pelt him to death. And what an uncouth spectacle would a Woman be, drest [Page 45] up like a Chimaera, that is, in the^(t) Poets phrase, like a Lion before, and a Dragon behind? or, as the Priests of the^(u) Indian Goddess, half black, and half white? or like an Hermaphrodite, Male and Female, bound up in one volumn? 'Tis abo­minable for a woman to walk up and down in mans habit, and every whit as bad for a man, with^(w) Sardana­palus, to spin amongst Women, or to spend his time betwixt the comb, and the glass, in crisping, and cur­ling his hair, and painting and patch­ing his face, or to exercise any effe­minate and soft behaviours. For as it is unseemly to affect any thing [Page 46] that is sordid and slovenly, so is it likewise, to transgress by a nice curiosity, and a finical spruceness. How ridiculous a sight is a vain young Gallant, that bristles with his plumes, and shakes his giddy head like an empty bottle, and plun­ders the air, and the earth, to adorn a body viler than the worms that have spun out their bowels to make him fine, and then windes it into an hundred mimical odde shapes; and all this to no other purpose, but to get possession of a Mistress, that's a ve­rier trifle than himself? An ape, methinks, never looks so like him­self, as when he has on my young Masters suit. Gay clothes are the ensigns of shame & slavery, & all the glister of Gold, and the gaudery of silver, and silk, and purple, make not so pleasant a shew, as a green field, bedeckt with pretty flowers. [Page 47] A Peacocks taile, in the eye of^(x) Solon, excell'd the Lydian bra­very; and a poor butterflie outvies all the artificial colours of the Court. I would not have you con­ceive, that I condemn comely or^(y) rich apparel, provided it do not exceed the purse, or quality of the person; but this I say, that he who is instantly taken with every light mode, and makes the art of dressing his whole care and study, and runs in debt to be in the spring of the newest fashion, discloses the nakedness of his Soul, and shews that discretion and virtue hang but loosly on it. I would have a distinction for all pro­fessions, and orders of men; that so we may easily know the peasant [Page 48] from the Gentleman; the Lawyer from the Citizen, and the Physitian from the Lawyer; the Scholar from the Courtier, and the Layman from the Priest; that the servant may not pass for the Master, nor Joan be taken for my Lady i'th' light, as well as, I doubt, she is too often i'th' dark. It is very requisite, that every one should be arai'd according to his qua­lity, lest (as^(z) Plutarch tells us) Philopoemines by his clownishness go for a scullion, and a scullion by his bravery for Philopoemines. 'Tis hugely improper (and in England unlawful too, being forbidden by several^(a) Statutes, yet unrepe [...]l'd) for those, whose duty it is to attend the Kings person, to be in any point mean and sordid, but they are to take [Page 49] care (as^(b) Aelian assures us Xeno­phon did) that they be in the mode, and modestly fine; not to trimme up themselves in a slanting dress, like so many flagges of pride and va­nity (as the Emperour ^(c) Augustus was wont to speak) but most sute­ably to the place, and the office they bear. It was reputed amongst the^(d) Romans an heinous offence to break this Rule; and they who are guilty, do a gross dishonour to their Prince, and lose their^(e) authority with the people, who are commonly [Page 50] affected with outward splendour, and^(f) foolishly conclude that to be the best horse which is set out with the stateliest trappings. I might here insert an honest, & an useful caution; That Courtiers, of all men living, should discharge the debts they con­tract for their bravery; it being a disparagement to the Kings Majesty, that his Court should look like a san­ctuary of injustice, and a den of Noon-day thieves; and, I humbly conceive, for them too, to rant it at the expense of trades-mens mony, and sometimes, of widows and or­phans tears, that is to say, with their clothes, for I am confident, there are some pied Gallants, that, if they were stript of their stolen plumes, and that every bird had its own fea­thers, [Page 51] would appear as bald, and de­spicable, as Aesops jack-daw: but I forbear pursuing this argument, lest I should vex the sore too much, and seem to wander from my first design. 'Tis convenient that all sorts of men be attir'd in a manner proportionable to their degree, and that they study to be^(g) neat, but not phantastically spruce. Clothes like the^(h) Delphic swords, have a double use; they serve to⁽ⁱ⁾ adorn for honour and [Page 52] sightliness, as well as to defend us from the injuries of the weather. A nice curiosity grows flat in time, and wea [...]y of it self; but I would have those that wear costly garments be sure, that they be fashionably made, and well put on; otherwise they manifestly declare one of these two things; either that they don't unde [...] ­stand what's fit and comely, or (which is worse) that they are not at all solicitous whether they gratifie or offend others, and so they beget a suspicion in the minds of their asso­ciates, that they don't greatly regard them; and the natural issue of this carelesness is, that their company is so far from being cove [...]ed and belov'd by any, that tis an unwelcome burthen to every one. ^(k)

CHAP. III. Of other things contrary to the Incli­nations and desires of Men.

BUT then there are some who proceed a great deal farther in incivility, and not only minister oc­casion of conceiving a sinister opi­nion of them, but deport themselves so insolently, that 'tis almost im­possible to be near them; that de­light to make the whole company dance attendance to them, and never leave troubling them with their impertinent Apologies, and rude behaviours, and are not complaisant two minutes together. When the Table is cover'd, and all are ready to sit down, then they pretend extra­ordinary business to protract the time; either they have a letter of [Page 54] grand importance to write, or they must perform some office of nature, or else they complain that they have not exercis'd that Morning to get them a stomach to their dinner, and cry out, 'Tis time enough, you may stay a little longer; Why do you make so much haste to day? And so they hinder the rest, as if they were the^(l) only persons whose affairs de­serve to be consider'd, and humours gratified. They are never conten­ted, unless they be lookt upon as the prime men, and in all particulars preferr'd; they must sit in the up­permost place, and have the b [...]st chamber, and the softest bed, and all be imploy'd in waiting on them, or the whole house shall be put out of order, and smart for it. Nothing is completely done but what they are the authors of, nor any thing aptly [Page 55] spoken, but what proceeds out of their mouth: every one must hang his ears upon their lips, and what they peremptorily utter, be it never so improba [...]le or common, m [...]st be believe [...] and ador'd, as though it were a sacred Response of an Infalli­ble Oracle; they vilifie and traduce all besides, and expect at Feasts, and Balls, and military encounters, and publick meetings, and recrea­tions, to engross the eyes and applause of the people; as if none else understood any thing, or were able to merit the least regard.

Others there are s [...] Cock-brain'd and of such a perverse and sour tem­per, that nothing can satisfie them, be it done with never so much care and diligence, and continually when they are spoken to, they return their answer in harsh words, and [Page 56] with a rugged countenance, and know not how to make an end of fretting, but chide, and miscall, and curse their servants, and rage (as if they resolv'd instantly to teare them in pieces, and were born to be the plague of the Neighbourhood) in such like passi nate exclamations, S [...]e you st [...]nking Varlet, how finely you have brusht my clothes! Sirrah, you rascal, how early you called me to day? Come hither, Villaine, how chance you wa [...]t upon me no better? You filthy Beast, I could find in my heart to knock your brains out. These are monstrous ex­pressions of barbarity and madness, and infinitely below the generous spirit that should possess the b [...]e [...]st of a Gentleman, and such brut [...]sh ugly follies, that they are not fit to be once mention'd (though with re­proof and detestation) much less [Page 57] practis'd by persons of noble ex­traction, train'd up in the School of Honour, who are bound to avoid them, as they would do an infe­ctious disease, or an ignoble death. 'Tis true, such indecencies may pro­ceed from one internally modest, and humble, and be committed not out of malice, and rudeness, and an ill intention, but merely through carelesness, and want of caution, a sudden surprize, or the impetuous violence of an intolerable provoca­tion; yet because they so nearly resemble in all their lineaments and proportions the base brats of an haughty and envious mind, that they can scarcely be distinguish'd from them, 'tis difficult for those who act them to escape severe censures and revenge; for what more undoubted issue and sign of pride, than to har­bour an overweening conceit of our [Page 58] selves, and to undervalue and sleight others? and who so deeply buried under the rubbish of his own ruines, that something of goodness may not be discern'd by a charitable sur­veyer? however, who is the [...]e reckons himself so wholly inconside­rable, as to be willing to stand for a pure cipher, and to be lookt upon as perfectly insignificant in the ac­counts of the world?

There was not long since at Rome one Ubaldinus Bandinellus, a person of no inferior quality, being a Nobleman of Florence, and Bishop of Falisca, and eminent both for acute­ness of wit, and solidity of judg­ment, for his incomparable learning, and exemplary integrity. This fa­mous Prelate us'd to say, that when­soever he came to the Popes palace, or return'd from thence to his own [Page 59] house, in that large street, throng'd with multitudes of all sorts, Cour­tiers, and Bishops, Magistrates, and men of the lowest rank, he met with none, whom he supposed he had not just cause to esteem either much better, or at least in all respects, of equal dignity with himself.

We must not presume to lay men in the ballance of our own strict ap­prehension, or prejudic'd fancy, and then undertake to tell exactly how much they weigh, and what they are worth, but all must be allow'd some grains of candor, and kind con­struction; for 'tis convenient in this case we should go by the same Rule we do in mony, and judge of them, not according to the inward nat [...]ral value, but that, which custome and common fame have stampt upon them.

Beware of detracting from any one behind his back, but when you are required to give a character of another, be sure it be made up of his most laudable properties. 'Tis a known Maxim in Heraldry, that all Animals born in Arms or Ensigns are to be interpreted according to their most innocent & noble qualities; as if a Lion be the charge of an Es­cutchion, we must imagine the things represented to be valour and watch­fulness, not cruelty and rapine; and if a Serpent, not venom and malice, but wisdome and subtilty; Much more is this to be observed in the blazoning of our Neighbours name. 'Tis a sneaking and cowardly Trick to accuse one that is not present to answer for himself, and an instance of no small indiscretion; ^(m) If we [Page 61] cannot commend others, prudence injoyns us to be silent, for we create jealousie in those who hear us, that we deal after the same rigid manner in other places with them too; and it usually falls out that 'tis reveal'd, and then a quarrel is commenc'd, which begins in bitter reproachful words, and proceeds in rough usages, and downright blows, and too often dips its feet in blood. And to this may be added (what we find true by daily experience) That he who sells his brothers credit at a low rate, makes the market for another to buy his at the same price.

When we are among our Col­legues whom we desire to please, we must do nothing that savours of a⁽ⁿ⁾ domineering spirit, but study to [Page 62] be kind and sociable, and such as^(o) Aelian characters Plato to have been, who won upon men, out of his Academy, as much by his affable and obliging carriage, as he did, in it, by his Philosophicall precepts and disputations. Our actions and ge­stures ought to carry along with them manifest tokens of respect, and kindness. And hence it comes to pass that some things, which if they were done in their prope [...] season could not be blamed, yet in regard of the place and the persons present, deserve to be sharply reprehended, As to chide, and much more to cha­stise [Page 63] servants, for this is to exercise Authority and jurisdiction, which must not be before them we are bound to honour. I might adde, that it molests all the company, and interrupts the discourse, especially if it be at the Table, a place of mirth, not of wrangling. Therefore, I say, 'tis not at all handsome, whatsoever unlucky accident happens, to be angry there; or if you cannot help being vext, and troubled, yet dis­semble it whilest you are at dinner, that no disorder may appear in your countenance, and that for the rea­sons already laid down. And by all means you are to have a care of this, when you make a Feast for stran­gers and persons of quality, for you invite them to be merry, and then your reputation is highly concerned. And as^(p) sowr things eaten by ano­ther, [...] [Page 62] [...] [Page 63] [Page 64] if you chance to see what a face he makes, do presently set your teeth an edge; so if one be discomposed, all are prone to be affected with it. He is^(q) Refractory in the most ge­nuine notion of the word, who sets himself to oppose the inclinations of every one. Now how unlikely this stubbornness is to procure the favour and friendship of others, I leave you to judge, since it consists in crossing their humours, and de­lights, a practice which unavoidably creates hatred and disdain. We should rather ^(r) comply with their [Page 65] desires, and advance their content, and suck satisfaction from their pleasures, and suit our talk to their sence and notices of things, so far forth as not to violate the Laws of Modesty and justice; but when courtship and truth come in compe­tition, 'tis an easy matter to deter­mine our choice, for 'tis better, no doubt, to be rudely honest, than to be civilly false, and injurious.

It does not become us, in our be­haviour, to be either^(s) rustical and clownish, or inaccessible and reserv'd; but to demean our selves with an open and unrestrained familiarity, as though we belonged to the same house. What causeth the different relish and wholesomness betwixt wild and other plants, but only this? [Page 66] the former grow neglectedly in the wood, and the latter are orderly set and nursed up in the garden. I dont approve of that sullen p [...]ivacy which some affect, that makes them look like forreiners or guests, rather than companions; but give me the sweet and pleasant person, who uses the same degree of freedom and affabi­lity as they do, that are boun [...] fast together in the firmest bonds of a virtuous and invi [...]lable amity. Of this sort were Laelius and Scipto, Cicero and Atticus, ^(t) Cyrus the younger and Artapates, ^(u) Titus Vo­lumnius and Lucullus, Terentius and Brutus, and (to name no more) the^(w) Cimbri and the Celtiberians. To this purpose 'tis convenient, that every one accustome himself to sa­lute [Page 67] others in an ingenuous & friend­ly manner, to talk kindly, and re­turn civil answers, and that he frame his whole carriage after the most po­pular and easy measures. And there­fore they are mightily to blame, that frown upon, and brow-beat all that approach them, and never vouchsafe them one gracious smile; that flatly contradict whatever others upon certain knowledge affirm for tr [...]th, and entertain the noblest and most affectionate offices of respect and love with a strange carelesness, and inhumane stupidity; that grum­ble when they are respectfully ac­costed, and will not endure harmless jests, and merry stories, and innocent ralliary; that hate being caress'd, and reject all addresses (be they made with never so much observance and sense of duty) with a barbarous indignation, and scornfull language. [Page 68] ^(x) As Biles and Vlcers smart and become angry, even at the very mis­trust of the lightest touch: so a distempered sick mind will be grea [...]ly offended with little things, insomuch that a complement, or a letter, a que­stion, or a word, sh [...]l [...] p [...]sently pro­voke some to give a ch [...]llenge. [...]ut such morose was [...]sh [...]e [...]low [...] may ex­pect to be hissed at the ex [...]l [...]ded, rather than courted and beloved.

It is not fit to ad [...]ict your self to melanch [...]ly and thoughtf [...]lness, w [...]en you are in company, to sit musing in a dull posture with fo [...]ed armes, regardless of any thing propounded to you, though it be urged over and over, with mo [...]e than usual impor­tunity, [Page 69] as if you were in an extasie, and your soul were removed from its station, and retired to some cor­ner of the body, or as though you were transform'd into a stock, or a stone. This indeed is somewhat to­lerable in those who have spent many years in contemplation and the serious study of the liberal scien­ces (especially the Mathematicks) but in others, without all doubt, it is not capable of excuse, and conse­quently is not to be allowed. Nay, Scholars, and persons immers'd in business, would do wisely (when they design to give themselves up to Meditation) to withdraw from places of resort into some convenient solitude. 'Tis storied of the Angeli­cal Doctor Aquinas, that being at supper at Paris with the King of France, he dropt into such a pro­found discourse with himself, that [Page 70] he seem'd to be turn'd into an in­sensible statue, and continued a pretty space without moving hand or foot, or so much as once stirring his eye, till at length having conquer'd the difficulty his mind grappled with, he struck his hand earnestly upon the Table, and cried out, that Now 'twas surely concluded against the Ma­nichees. The King was amaz'd at it, and ask'd him what he meant; To whom S. Thomas, not without blush­ing and confusion, repli'd, That just at that time there came an argument into his head, which utterly overthrew the doctrine of the Manichees. And they tell of S. Bernard, that when he had journeyed along the bank of the Lemane Lake a whole day together, and his fellow-travellers at night where talking of it, he enquired of them where that Lake was, and when they told him, he wondered [Page 71] at it, and protested he never saw it. And I have known a famous Lawyer, as he has been plodding on the rode, sink over head and ears in a perplexed Case, and labour at least two or three hours before he could recover out of that Quagmire. But let every thing be done in its proper season.

'Tis an unbecoming, and an un­manly thing, to be of a soft and nice temper, prone to take exceptions upon every frivolous occasion. When you are conversing with such, you are not upon equal terms, but all the while in perfect slavery. You will meet with some that must be handled with as much caution and gentleness, as if they were so many curious Venice glasses; you can hardly tell how to touch or come near them for fear of breaking them: an easy blow, or a little sharp breath [Page 72] shatters them to pieces. If you don't readily salute them with all the punctilio's of Reverence, and bow to them with the lowliest sub­mission, and repay their visits with all exactness, and answer directly to every question, they are in a flame, and torment themselves more than others would do for the vilest affront and the grossest injury, and you quite lose their favour for ever. They are so fondly enamoured of their Titles, that nothing pleases them more than to hear them recited: and unless you have them at your fingers end, and give them all respect to an hairs breadth, you raise a storm, and in­cense a fury; they'l complain that you want breeding, and that you sleight them, and conceive an im­mortal hatred against you; They are angry if you make applications to them without observing a consi­derable [Page 73] distance; and 'tis a crime not to be pardon'd, if you don't set them at the upper end of the Table; they'l upbraid you with your ignorance, and want of due regard, and tell you, that you don't know your self, or them, since you use them no better; that you ought to make a distinction betwixt them and others, and let them have the place that belongs unto them. They love and esteem themselves ab [...]ve measure, and whilest they spend so much of their care and time about their own con­cernments, they have but little left to bestow upon any besides. 'Tis hugely desirable (as I said before) that the conversation be sweet and pleasant: but to associate with Cri­tical peevish people, whose friend­ship is as weak as a single thread, and as brittle as glass, and that are apt to reckon every small omission [Page 74] (even the misplacing of a word) for a heinous offence, is to be in perpe­tual bondage. And therefore we are not only not to be delighted with this effiminate humour, but upon all occasions to declare our dislike of it, and leave it to women, and pitiful men.

CHAP. IV. Of several errors of the Tongue to be reformed.

IN familiar discourse men likewise transgress many ways, both in the Matter, and manner of it. In the Matter, principally, if it be either impertinent, profane, or false; for the auditors (if they are sober per­sons) will scarcely give ear to such stuff, because they can take no com­placency in it, but abhorr him that [Page 75] fills their heads with empty and (which is more unsufferable) with lascivious sounds. If then you would not be troublesome to the company, be sure to refrain from multiplicity of idle talk. Speech is the band of humane intercourse, and we are all naturally fond of it; but if it be not material and usefull, 'tis tedious, and imprudent, if not criminal. Some are so big with Air and nothing, that they disburden themselves into every ones bosom they meet with: Such a one was^(y) Anaximenes. An ocean of words, and but a drop of know­ledge; and the Gentleman ^(z) Mar­tial speaks of, that could not for­bear imparting his slender poëtry to [Page 76] all companies and in all places, at publick games and at private feasts, in the baths and on the beds; inso­much th [...]t every one was afraid of him, and run from him, as from a Serpent, or the Plague, or a Tigre newly bereaft of her whelps: and (though he was an honest man, yet) he was not to be endured; I would advise you to keep^(a) Euri­pide's precept, Either be silent, or speak something that is better; that is, which may increase learning, or dis­grace vice, instruct the ignorant, or serve the ends of civility. Take care (to borrow the expression of^(b) Zeno) that you dip your tongue in understanding, and minister to [Page 77] fair purposes, otherwise you will be reputed a pra [...]ing insignificant person.

And Mul itude of words, though directed to no ill design, is to be avoided; for^(c) he that shoots thick, does not always hit the mark. The Egyptians adored sile [...]ce for a D [...]it [...], and offered up sacrifices to it; if [...]t be seasonable, 'tis the wisest, and the most inn [...]cent thing in the whole world, and no man ever repented of it. But Garrulity is a great instance of a foolish mind, and betrays men to many huge inconveniences; it exposes us to^(d) reproach and con­tradiction, [Page 78] and^(e) deprives us of the benefits we might [...]eap from the discourses of others: it makes us deaf, and all that are near us. Not that we are to imitate the austeri [...]y of those Monks who abstained al­together from speech, Romualdus for seven years, and one in Brabant for sixteen, Theona for no less than thirty, and Johannes Silentarius for forty seven; for this is morosity, if not madness. The^(f) tongue is an Angel (as the priest was wont to cry out in the midst of the rites per­form'd to Harpocrates the God o [...] Silence) and is capable to shed a benign influence upon society; but then it must not be permitted to be d [...]ssolute and to range abroad, but be [Page 79] kept under command, and within compass, and be always well im­ployed.

You ought not to molest the company (at meals especially) with Philosophical subtilties, and eager dis­putes; for to be clamorous is a^(g) sign of a quarelsom disposition, & he that is wise will never be so. However, 'tis an improper entertainment at such times, and fitter for a School than a Dining Room.

You must carefully abstain from mentioning those things which are likely to put any out of countenance, or turn to their disgrace and disad­vantage. 'Tis not convenient to tell [Page 80] the story of Lucretia where there is one suspected to have been unchast, nor to fall a dispraising Thraso to a vain-glorious souldier, nor to produce the character of^(h) Thersites or Zoilus in the presence of a squin­ting, or crook-back'd, or limping per­son, nor to talk of breeding and Child-birth before young Girls, nor to cast dirt in any ones face by revea­ling or intimating that which may reflect dishonour upon him. 'Twas a bitter taunt of Epicharmus, when Hieron, not long after he had unfor­tunately killed his friend, invited him to supper, to reply, I think I ⁽ⁱ⁾ [Page 81] may safely come; for when you but­cher'd your friend, you did not devo [...]r him. Such Sarcasms bite sharply, and savour of an uncharitable spirit, and strangely confound him they are thrown at: and therefore 'tis a good Proverb, That you must never speak of a halter in his house whose father was hang'd.

Talk not fil [...]hily and obsc [...]e [...]l [...], though you may tickle the fancy, and get into the favour of great men. He that is good will seek to delight others only by good things; and he that ministers to wantonness, is a perfidious and unworthy wretch. Lascivious discourse is a rudeness not to be admitted into civil con­versation; for^(k) (besides that it [Page 82] argues the fountain to be impure) it^(l) debauches mens minds, and pollutes their manners; and therefore Se­neca did amiss in describing the looking glass of Hostius; and I could with that the Ephesiaca of Xenophon, and the Fescennines of Ausonius, and the^(m) ribaldrie of⁽ⁿ⁾ Ma [...]tial, and all the soul adhaerencies of Play; were quite expung'd; that so they might profit, and please, but not defile the ears of the hearers. Our very reproaches of lust must be coy and wary, and wrapt up in a chast and modest Dialect, according to that prudent saying, It is not good to come [Page 83] near the leprosie, though it be to cleanse: the Lepers skin.

At no hand utter one blasphe­mous title against God, and his bles­sed Angels, and his holy Religion, either in earnest or in sport, though lewd Atheists account it but a pecca­dillo, and make this practise their recreation. ^(o) Iohn Boccatius a Fl [...] ­rentine was exceeding faulty in this particular in his Booke of Jests, which, for this reason, all virtu [...]us persons justly condemn [...]. 'Twas a grave injunction of Pythagoras to his Scholars, That they should never assert any thing of God without light, that is, otherwise than he has re­vealed himself unto us; for, like t [...]e Sun, he can be seen only by his own beams. We must speak the truth of him with caution and reverence, [Page 84] with fear and trembling, said^(p) Plato well, who severely reprehends Ho­mer for his rash fables of the lusts, and contentions of the gods. 'Tis dangerous to play with a flaming sword, and to twitch a Lion by the beard; and a strange Romantick courage to run merrily upon a Can­nons mouth, and to attempt the dethroning of the Almighty; and an unpardonable folly to drole away the hopes of future bliss, and ad­venture the losing of Heaven, rather than of an unprofitable jest. I have heard of a club of Atheistical Vil­laines, who made it their business at their meetings, to abuse God, and deride all the mysteries of Christia­nity, behaving themselves as inso­lently towards the divine Majesty, as the Graecians did towards their Mercury, who were wont instead of [Page 85] worshipping, to throw stones at him. The old Romans put Valerius So­ranus to death, because he profan'd the secrets of their Religion. And well do they deserve the most ex­quisite torments that can be inflicted, who will run infinite hazards for so insipid and fruiless a folly. Nor does he that prates dishonorably of sacred things, merit punishment merely for being a Platonick Lover of wickedness, but because he de­monstrates himself to be an ill-bred Clown too; for such language grates the ears of good men, and forces them hastily to quit the place. So Eusebius relates S. Iohn did, when, in a Bath at Ephesus, he heard Ce­rinthus belch out prodigious blaspe­mies; and no sooner was he gone away, but the Bath fell down and crushed Cerinthus, and his Compa­nions to death. And we read of [Page 86] Olympius an Arrian Bishop in Africk, that presently after he had scoffed at the ineffable mystery of the Bles­sed Trinity, he was in the sight of a great assembly stricken with light­ning, and burnt to ashes.

In all your discourse take heed, as much as you can, how you let fall any words which may signifie your life and actions to be irregular: for generally men detest those vices in others which they indulge and cherish in themselves. The Germans have a Proverb to this sense, that There is no mother so lewd, but de­sires her children should be virtuously educated.

'Tis likewise unfit to talk of things which suit not with the sea­son, and persons present, though they are such, as in due time and place [Page 87] would be not only innocent, but usefull and beneficial too. For in­stance: It is absurd amongst old women to discourse of the pleasures of a nuptial bed, or of the modest behaviour to be used in dancing, when it would be more agreeable to admonish them to prepare for a grave. It is not expedient to disco­ver the Intrigues and Mysteries of State to Rebells, or to display the Gaieties of the Court to dull Pea­sants; neither is it proper to make Harangues of Religion to young men, when they are met together to be harmlesly merry; nor is it con­venient to tell dolefull stories at a banquet, or to sully a bright day de­stin'd to publick joy and festivity with a Tragical representment of the Sicilian vespers, or with ter­rible narrations of battels and earthquakes, pestilences and dis­eases, [Page 88] robberies and executions, Hob­goblins and Ghosts, which cause the hearers rather to tremble, than to be cheerfull; and therefore let there be no mention of such things, if you can help it; or if you happen una­wares to slip into a story tending that way, as soon as you perceive your errour, sweeten it as much as you can, and pass quickly to some other more delightful subject. 'Tis con­fessed, that (all circumstances rightly considered) we have more reason to be afflicted, than to be Jovial; for our life is but a little span, and 'tis divided betwixt folly and misery, doing nothing, and that which is to no effective purpose; and the lowdest laughter commonly ends in the dee­pest sigh, and Tragedies perhaps were at first invented to present the mis­fortunes and crimes of the Age upon a Theatre to open view, that so they [Page 89] might draw tears from their eyes who were most concerned, and cure them of their infirmities, and shame them into sobriety: But notwith­standing, it is not handsom to make men sad, when they come with design to refresh themselves, and to lay aside their distracting heavy thoughts, unless there be any that love to weep, and if there be, 'tis but giving them an^(q) onyon, or a mouthful of mustard, or carrying them into a smokie room, and you may easily gratifie that desire. VVherefore Philostratus, in⁽⁾ Bo­catius, was by no means to be excus'd for damping, the mirth of a great company with a most dismal rela­tion. 'Twas this; A Certain French [Page 90] Noble man suspecting another to be more familiar with his Lady than he judg'd fit, privily thrust him through the body; and when he had done so, ript up his breast, and tore out his heart, and minced it into small bits, and pepper'd and salted it, and then gave it to his Wife to eat: Which as soon as she discovere [...], she threw her self headlong out of a high window, and brake her neck. Her Husband immediately fled, and she and her Gallant were both buried in the same grave [...]ut 'tis a great deal better to hold ones peace, than at such times to torment people with Melancholick stories.

Nor does he commit a less indis­cretion, that does nothing but babble in commendation of his Wife and children: Did you ever see in all your life a prettier boy than mine? [Page 91] What sweet features? and what inge­nious conceits he has? Is not my Wife a lovely Woman? Upon my word she has wit at will: 'Tis not to be thought how prudently she mana­ges her affairs. Few I suppose are so unimployed as to be at leisure to listen to, and so patient as not to be vexed at such idle impertinencies as these are.

And 'tis not wise to recite your dreams (as many do) with a mighty vehemence, and superstitious resent­ment, as if you would have them believ'd to be the impressions of a good Angel, or the issues of a Pro­phetick spirit: For we may take no­tice that those who are cheifly ad­dicted to this practice, are a sort of Phantastical opiniators, whose acti­ons have nothing of Eminency in them above the vulgar size of men; [...] [Page 90] [...] [Page 91] [Page 92] and most dreams are^(s) trifling and ridiculous. And although the an­cient Sages have left several upon record, written with singular pru­dence and delight, (such is that of Scipio, and others related by Cicero in his books of Divination) Yet is it not allowable that every o [...]dinary person should usurp this liberty in his discourse. Amongst all the dreams that ever I heard (and I acknowledge I don't give ear to many) none seems to me more w [...]r­thy to be heeded, and apologiz'd for than that of M. Flaminius Tomaro­tius, a Noble Roman, who (by the way) was no illiterate sensless fellow, but one of excellent learning, and a most acute wit. As he was a sleep, he imagin'd that he was sitting in the shop of an exceeding rich Apo­thecary who was his neighbour, and [Page 93] that within a little while, a tumult being raised (upon what occasion he did not know) all the drugges in the shop were pulled down; and in the Scramble, one got an Ele­ctuary, and another a vomit, and a third a dose of pills, and greedily devoured them all, and in a short space there was nei­ther bottle, nor pot, nor box left, that was not quite drain'd, and emptied; only one glass, and that a very little one, full up to the top of pure liquor, which few minded, and none would taste. This done, he presently saw a grave old man come in, of a majestick presence, able to strike awe and reverence into any one with his very looks. As with a sorrowfull countenance he was be­holding this strange confusion, and observ'd that some of the boxes and pots stood empty, and others were [Page 94] turned upside down, and the greatest part of them broken to pieces; by chance he cast his eye upon that small glass, and took it down, and immediately set it to his mouth, and drank it off, not leaving one drop; and assoon as he had done so, he went his way after the same manner as the rest did. Flaminius greatly wondered at this, and turning to the Apothecary, askt him who that old man was, and for what reason he drank up that water with so much eagerness, which none else touched, or regarded; To whom he replied, in these words. O Son, that old man you saw was God himself; the Water that all besides slighted, was^(t) Discretion, which is the apple of the eye of reason, the mistress and [Page 95] guide of the affections, the Mother and nurse of^(u) virtue and good man­ners, prescribing order and decency to every action. And this (as you know by your own experience) men don't care should come near their lips.

^(w)I shall take leave to adde ano­ther remarkable dream of a Reve­rend, Learned, and pious person, and my worthily Honoured Friend (to the memory of whose favours I can­not chuse but pay a dayly tribute of grateful recognition) not long after the late unhappy troubles brake out in England, as 'tis already set down by an^(x) elegant and faithful pen. [Page 96] 'Twas thus; He thought himself and a multitude of others to have been abroad in a bright and chearful day, when on a sudden there seemed a separation to be made, and he with the far less number to be placed at a distance from the rest; and then the clouds gathering, a most tem­pestuous storm arose, with thun­dring and lightnings, with spouts of impetuous rain, and violent gusts of wind, and whatever else might adde unto a scene of horrour; par­ticularly balls of fire that shot them­selves amongst the ranks of those that stood in the lesser party: VVhen a gentle whisper seem'd to interrupt those other louder noises, saying, Be still, and ye shall receive no harm. Amidst these terrours the Good man falling to his prayers, soon after the Tempest ceased, and that known Cathedral-Anthem begun, [Page 97] Come Lord Jesus, come away; with which he awoke. The correspondent event of all which he found verified signally in the preservation both of himself and his friends, in doing of their duties: the which with much content he was used to mention. Besides, being himself taken to the Quires of Angels (on 25 of April 1660) at the close of that Land-Hur­rican of ours (whereof that dismal apparition was only a faint Emblem) he gave thereby too literal a com­pletion of his Dream, and the un­happy credit of bordering upon Pro­phecy.

Such kind of dreams may be con­fidently recited, since resembling the apprehensions of men awake more than the blind visions of the night, and suggesting something of special remark and duty, they may be heard [Page 98] with delight and profit: But incon­sistent Rapsodies of Non-sense (such are most dreams of lewd Plebeian people, whom good and learned men excell in vertue and wisdome, even when they are^(y) asleep, our profici­ency in both being discernible, in the opinion of^(z) Zeno, by the coherence and cleanliness of our dreams) are to vanish with our sleep, and to be buried in silence and oblivion.

CHAP. V. Of the Abuses of the Tongue compre­hended under the general Title of Falshood.

TO forge untruths is a vainer and more intolerable misdemea­nour than to recount dreams; for dreams commonly are founded upon something that had a real existence before, but a lye never had so much as the shadow or appearance of it; for 'tis like the Phaenomena of the Hea­vens, or a Castle built in the air, and has its being no where but only in the contrivers brain. Truth is the beginning of Heroical vertue, sayes a^(a) grave Author; 'tis the most^(b) lively resemblance and imitation of him who is absolutely perfect; [Page 100] 'tis the bond and cement of society, a vertue composed of amiableness & divine features: but a Lye is unrea­sonable, and ugly as the shadows of the night; and therefore Mytholo­gists describe Pan, the son of Mer­cury, (who was the God of speech) with the upper part like a man, and the lower like a beast, to signifie that truth is fair and comely, but a lye squalid and deformed. Simonides and Cicero call it injustice, and so it is; a violation of that tacite universal contract of Mankind implied in all their commerce and intercourses: 'tis the rust and bane of conversation, and it disgraces a man when 'tis found out, and^(c) few have so good [Page 101] memories, and carry the matter so cunningly, as to goe long undisco­vered; for though it walks in a mist, and puts on the mantle and mask of truth, and so may pass for it awhile; yet it will in tract of time betray it self by its disor­derly motions and cloven feet: and then it breaths a cloud of infamy upon the reputation, and renders the parent obnoxious to a large measure of contempt and scorn, a severe, but withall an equall pu­nishment; he will be banished all honest company, and no body will give credit to any thing he shall say, be it never so true, upon the bare authority of his report, nor regard his words more than a mouthful of fugitive breath; nay, every syllable he speaks will be suspected, unless it amounts to the force of an undeniable demonstration. [Page 102] ^(d) Poggius lost the fame of a good Historiographer by extolling all the actions of the Florentines, and dis­praising their enemies; and the Shepheard that abus'd the neigh­bourhood with a false clamorous complaint that the Wolf had inva­ded and scatter'd his flock, to his great damage, was not believ'd after­wards when it was really so. And the worthy Sir Henry Wotton in­curr'd the displeasure of King Iames by a facetious sentence of innocent meaning, that was capable to be in­terpreted in favour of Falshood, and by the malicious wit of Scioppius was perverted to the harsher sense^(e) [An Ambassadour is an honest [Page 103] man, sent to LIE abroad for the good of his Country.] Besides, 'tis an ar­gument of a cowardly poor Spirit, and though it may chance to serve a pre­sent turn, yet it enhaunces the guilt of the crime, and when it is detected, makes a man look like a pitifull baf­fled fellow; whereas^(f) the brave and magnanimous person does not sneak, but speaks truth, and is bold as a Lion: And this is appositely ex­pressed in the counsel of the^(g) di­vine Poët,

But I would not be thought over rigid. Doubtless we may speak untruths in some cases without [Page 104] being criminal; as we may^(h) de­ceive Children to their own benefit, and cheat them into good manners; we may invent formidable stories to affright them into order, and pretty fables to keep them quiet. And no man blames Physicians for deluding Hypocondriacall persons into chearfulness, and a state of health. The man of Athens that conceited if he should make water he should drown the City was cured by an ingenious fiction, that the City was on fire, and that he ought not to stop his urine, lest water should be wanting in that great exi­gence. Nor is it surely a fault by a pious fraud to rob a man of an erro­neous opinion, as a Saracen Prince did two Eutychian Bishops (who as­serted [Page 105] that the Divine Nature of CHRIST expir'd as well as his hu­mane) by pretending (what he knew they reckoned altogether impossible, and yet not so absurd as their own position) certain intelligence by letters of the death of the Archangel Gabriel. And⁽ⁱ⁾ Pisander and^(k) Andronicus Rhodius thought it no harm to use an untruth as a remedy in the danger of friends, to save the life of a Prince or a brave Patriot; & the reason of it is clear and easy, because^(l) charity is better than truth, and every man is willing to be couzen'd into his own advantage [Page 106] ^(m) Pliny commends the Wife of Caecinna Paetus for denying to her husband the death of their dear Son, which she did lest it should make him grieve himself into his grave. And upon this score⁽ⁿ⁾ Poëtical Fables, and the parables of Moralists are excusable.

But then this is to be understood warily, and practised with a great deal of sober caution, according to the^(o) Comedians rule, only when Truth produces an insufferable mischief; and in that case 'tis but pardonable, not laudable and noble. We read of [Page 107] Epaminondas and Aristides, that they were so tender in this respect, that they would not tell a lye so much as in merriment. 'Tis indeed all unworthy artifice, and a deviation from the great Law of Justice; it perverts the institution of words, and involves a man in difficulties, and intangles him in Contradictions, and perplexes him more than a skain of ruffled silk; for 'tis a subterfuge that will not afford shelter and pro­tection long; the guard must be doubled, and if that prove too weak, a new covert is sought; and when all evasions fail, the man is at his wits end, and is confounded with shame, and talks tremblingly, and dreads to look him in the face whom he has abused. And therefore^(p) it is the part of an honest and [Page 108] wise man to have no wrinkles and foldings in his heart, but (when he does speak) by plain words to dis­close the secret recesses of his Soul; not like^(q) Tiberius, who was an Abyss of deceit not to be fathom'd, and us'd phrases compos'd merely for pretense and shew, and so obscure and intricate a dialect that no body could imagine what he meant: For equivocall speeches and mentall re­servations become none, much less great men. 'Twas ignobly done of Cleomenes, having made truce with his enemies for thirty days, to plun­der their Country in the night; and of Labeo, when he had covenanted [Page 109] to yield up half his navy to Antio­chus, to cut his ships in pieces, and render them useless; and it was a most inhumane thing of Pericles, af­ter he pass'd his word to the oppo­site Army, that he would not med­dle with them if they would lay aside their Iron, to fall upon them and hew them down, because they had Iron buttons upon their Coats. 'Tis a huge unworthiness for Rulers to lye, and therefore the^(r) Egyptian Princes were wont to wear a golden chain beset with precious stones, which they styled Truth; intima­ting that to be the most illustrious and royal ornament. Adde to all this (what the late ingenious^(s) Sir Henry Wotton gave for an infallible Aphorism to an Ambassador, who requested from him some experi­mental [Page 110] Rules for his prudent carriage in his Negotiations) That alwayes, and upon all occasions to speak the Truth is the surest safeguard, both to your person and reputation, and the likeliest expedient to accomplish any design, & to manage your busi­ness with success; for (to that pass have the degenerous manners of men brought the world) you shall never be believ'd, and by this means your truth will secure your self, if you shall ever be call'd to account: and 'twill also put your Adversaries (who will still hunt Counter) to a loss in all their disquisitions and under­takings.

But notwithstanding that this practice is very indecent, and atten­ded with many grand inconvenien­ces, yet there are some in the world so deeply in love with it, that they court it purely for its own sake, and [Page 111] are content to espouse it without a dowry, using it not out of a malici­ous intention to injure and deceive others, nor out of a foresight and hope that they shall procure any benefit to themselves, but (without any real Incentive to provoke them) only because it pleases their vain humour; just as debauched Sots carouse whole flagons, not to quench their thirst, and satisfie that just appetite which is implanted in their nature, but out of an immo­derate love of the liquor, and to indulge their more than brutish sen­suality. This one would think ex­ceeding strange; and yet I have heard of a person so notoriously ad­dicted to this unsociable paultry vice, that his friends were afraid to propound any question to him, lest they should give him an opportu­nity of speaking something that [Page 112] was not true. For my own part, I could heartily wish that all such (according to the due severity of the Persian Law) might be wholly excluded from bearing office, and condemned to perpetual silence.

Others, spurr'd on by vain-glory, are perpetually telling Romantick stories of themselves, extolling their own actions to the skies, and boasting of their wonderful insight in the my­steries both of Art and Nature; as if they had the^(t) monopolie of knowledge, and that it came into the world, and should expire with them. And under this head may be rank'd those who lye silently with­out saying a word; that is, whose conversation and garb is an untruth; who though descended but of mean [Page 113] parents, and having nothing extra­ordinary to commend them, yet behave themselves in all respects so loftily, that 'tis almost impossible to look upon them without disdain & discomposure; and notwithstand­ing that neither their estate is large, nor their family illustrious, yet to be sure their clothes shall be very rich, and they load themselves with rings and bracelets and all manner of bravery, that you would take them to be persons of the highest quality in the Nation where they live. But this is a custome so full of presump­tion and arrogance (the Daughter of pride, and the Grandchild of vanity) that it is most intolerable and uncom­ly, and therefore carefully to be es­chew'd. In some (and those not the worst constituted) States 'tis for­bidden by statute, both that the rich should be extremely gay and costly in [Page 114] their apparell, and mightily vaunt it over the inferior sort; and like­wise that the poor should affect a habit equally fine with their richer Neighbours; for each of these is unhandsome and foolish, and not to be permitted in a well-govern'd Kingdome.

Let no man insolently brag either of his Nobility or his Honour, of his Wealth or of his Wisdome, and at every turn (as many do) rehearse his Pedigree and his Titles, and enter­tain his friends with stories of the brave atchievments of his Ancestors. For how many worthy actions of Gallant persons, with themselves and their monuments too, are buried in utter oblivion? How many eminent Families are quite extinct & blotted out of the Heralds books? What's become of the Achimenides in Per­sia, [Page 115] and the Seleucidae of Syria; the Ptolemyes of Egypt, and the Caesars of Italy; the Merovingians and Car­lovingians of France, and the Plan­tagenets of England? And what's Nobility (if it be not accompanied with^(u) real goodness) but a bubble, and an empty Name? It is no credit to be well-born, unless you be well-manner'd too; and he that has no­thing but his Extraction and Titles to set him forth, is no better than [Page 116] his Great-grand-fathers Tomb. And a plentiful fortune (if not wisely ma­nag'd) is a great incumbrance and a snare. Money is a perfidious thing, and the^(w) parent of absurd acti­ons; for it betrayes men into seve­ral miscarriages, which otherwise they would not have opportunity to commit. And he that boasts of his own knowledge, does but discover and proclaim his folly; for (if you observe it) he talks lowdest that understands least (as the shallow stream makes a greater noise than the deepest river) and he who has labour'd industriously many years to informs his mind, will find and con­fess that Motto of a learned man to be most true,^(x) That the greatest part of what we know is but the least [Page 117] of that we are ignorant of. Besides, he who does these things upbraids those who cannot derive them­selves from so ancient a stock, and want the like endowments to set them off: And I assure you that's no small disobligation.

Nor is it any ones duty to lessen his own merit (though of the two 'tis better to take from, than adde unto it) & therefore I don't approve of those that undervalue themselves beyond measure, and stoop to sordid condescensions, and refuse those ho­nours & commendations which with­out all question are their due. This is no vertue, but a^(y) vice opposed to humility in the defect, as arro­gance is in the excess; and if it be a hypocritical pretense of modesty, and not the issue of a real conscious­ness [Page 118] of imperfection, 'tis double pride and ostentation. To weigh down one scale that so the other may ascend; to use diminutive expres­sions on purpose that we may be admir'd; to reject a just character, and inwardly to applaud our selves for doing it; to refuse dignities and preferments out of a seeming lowliness of mind, and contempt of the world, and under-hand to strive to obtain them, or else to propa­gate our fame by the renunciation, is a piece of abominable falshood, and arrogant humility not to be endur'd. To deny the good things that are in us, or to make them less (the^(z) Mo­ralist tells us) is the deepest dissimu­lation; and^(a) he that accuses him­self [Page 119] when he is innocent, becomes guilty by his lying. ^(b) Jottus that famous Painter & Architect of Flo­rence, in the opinion of some, was scarce worthy of the praises heap'd upon him, because he forbad men to honour him so much as to salute him by the name of^(c) Master. But whether he did well or no, this is certain, that he who undervalues those things which men generally desire and love, certifies by that action that he despises others, or at least, that he does not respect them [Page 120] as he ought: And not to esteem glory and honour, which most rate at a high price, what is it but to slight their judgment who conferre it, and to extoll your self above all man­kind? For no body that is in his right wits, will contemn that which by the common consent and approba­tion of the world has worth and va­lue imprinted on it, but those that fondly imagine they have better ap­prehensions, or choiser treasures. The safest and most prudent course is to keep in the middle betwixt the two extremes; ^(d) neither insolently to vaunt of any thing we are, or have; nor yet to speak contemptibly of our selves; for by the former we re­proach others with their defects, and that's ungentile; and by the latter [Page 121] we seem to vilifie their understan­ding, and to jeer their virtues, and that's unjust. Ingenuity and Dis­cretion injoyn us to be as silent of our own actions as we can (and the^(e) advantages of a restrain'd tongue in this case are not easily numbred) and when we are inforc'd to speak, let it be truth, and modestly ex­press'd, without any tincture of pride and self-conceit. And they that endeavour to please others are to the utmost of their power to ab­stain from a fault exceeding fre­quent, that is, when their opinion is askt concerning any matter that is propounded, they must not fum­ble with their buttons, and suffer themselves to be oppressed with an unseasonable bashfulnesse, so as to talk fearfully, and to move their [Page 122] body up and down all the while, as if they were in pain, and to look sneakingly, as though they had late­ly committed a theft, or some other shamefull crime, and were doing penance for it; and to preface what they have to say with tedious and insignificant Apologies [Sir, I hope you will please to forgive me if I doe not speak pertinently to this business, for I am altogether unskilfull in such things: I fear that I shall betray my own folly, and tire your patience too much, yet in obedience to your com­mands, I shall venture to say what I conceive of the point in hand.] Thus they detein the company, and pro­tract the time with empty preambles, and while they are making ridicu­lous excuses, they might have an­swer'd the Question, and dispatch'd the Case; but they must go about by many circumlocutions to no pur­pose, [Page 123] and are longer in stating and bringing it to a head, than others in determining it; and yet deport themselves as if they were in bon­dage and a very uneasie posture till they have done; and it cannot choose but be a great trouble to hear and see them so concern'd, e­specially if they be learned and un­derst [...]nding persons. And they also are offensive and hypocritical men, that would fain seem the worst and meanest in [...]ll the society where they are; and when by the acknowledg­ment of every one present they ought to be seated in the chiefest and most honourable place, they'l sit lowest, and you cannot without a great deal of importunity and vio­lence prevail upon them to remove higher; when you intreat them, they goe back (like a fearfull horse that has been newly beaten) and put [Page 124] all out of order, especially when they come to a door, for they'l by no means goe before, but make long speeches, and wheel about, and de­fend themselves with their hands and arms, and make [...]dde faces, and you must quarrel and almost fight with them before you can get them on; and this interrupts the pleasure of your walk, and sometime hinders important business.

But one of the most pernicious abuses of the Tongue remains still to be treated of, to wit, Flattery, the entertaining of a man with a Pane­gyrick of himself, and talking in filthy or glozing language, either to foment his lust and kindle a spark into a flame, or else to tickle his am­bition, or to serve some other vile end. And this is the destruction of all the noble designes of friendship [Page 125] and conversation; 'tis the treachery of love, and a deadly pestilence, a tickling a man into a sweun, and hugging him to death; a smiling in his face and cutting his throat. Ca­lumny compar'd to this is balm and antidote; for he who slanders me gives me warning to stand upon my guard, and to furnish my self with all the weapons and artifices of de­fence; and singular benefits may be reap'd from obloquies and contume­lious usages, if we study to improve them to the richest advantage; Roses grow upon those thorns, and the venom of a viperous tongue may be converted into triacle. Reproach­full language serves (like the kind sword of^(f) Jasons enemy) to cure [Page 126] an Impostume, and to let death out of our bowels. But Flattery fills us with wind and corruption till we burst, and a strong gust of undeser­ved applause quite overturns and ruines us, if we are not well-balast'd. He that reviles me, it may be, calls me Fool, but he that flatters me (if I take not heed) will make me so; and 'tis like that kind of Lightning which melts the sword without sindging the scabbard; this subtil poison steales insensibly into the very bones, and drinks up the marrow, and yet never breaks the skin, but pleases it with a soft and gentle touch. And this is the unhappy lot of great personages, a disease that reigns in the Courts of Kings; Poor men live out of the reach of its infection, it visits not the humble cottage: for who ever yet thought it worth his pains to stoop so low [Page 127] as to flatter a begger? The Ser­vants of Dionysius the Sicilian Ty­rant counterfeited themselves half-blind, and run one against another, and overturn'd the meat as it was serv'd to his Table, because he was short-sighted; and in Alexander's house a wry-neck was a mode of Gal­lantry. Great men rarely see their faces in a true glass: What they speak shall be sure to be commended, and every thing they doe will be extoll'd, and their infirmities are magnified (as the Egyptians ador'd the very pudenda of their Priests) 'Twas notably said of Carneades, That Princes are seldome dealt tru­ly with, but when they are taught to ride the great horse, because the proud beast is not capable to learn the Art of Dissembling, nor does he know how to distinguish betwixt men, but will as soon throw an Em­perour [Page 128] as a Groom. I suppose, I need propound no other argument to disswade you from practising such baseness but only this, That it is a low-spirited vile thing. A Pa­rasite is the veriest slave alive; 'tis more eligible to tug at an eare, or to dig in the mines, or to hew in the quarries, than to cringe and fawne and tempt to mischief for a little money; to be a perfect Votary to the humour, and a Pander to the lust of any, and so to sell at once integrity and freedome, and that at a cheap rate too, for a purse of gold, or a small pension, nay, sometimes only for a morsell of bread. He who does so, has nothing that he can proper­ly call his own, all his faculties and passions, appetites and desires, ge­stures and behaviours, words and actions, thoughts and looks, being intirely dedicated to the service, [Page 129] and too often to the ruine, of ano­ther: And he is well enough de­scrib'd by the Poët, to be a^(g) Beast that is all belly, casting his eye round about, watchfull, ugly, and deceitfull, and creeping by the assistance of his teeth, which feed him, and kill them that reach him bread. ^(h) Be as com­plaisant as may consist with inno­cence and discretion; but to run in­to vice and pain to avoid the opini­on of an uncivil man, is the part of a fool and a coward, and of one that does not understand what belongs to civil society. And this conside­ration leads me to discourse concer­ning Complementing, to which (be­cause [Page 130] it is a subject that affords va­rious matter) I shall allow a distinct appartment.

CHAP. VI. Of Ceremonies and Complements.

CEremonies, as we call them (a⁽ⁱ⁾ word borrow'd from ano­ther language, for we have none in our own to express them by; an^(k) evident argument that they were [Page 131] not known to our Forefathers, since they were not able to give them a name) I say Ceremonies (as they are us'd or abus'd rather) [...]o [...] their vani­ty, in my judgment, come not far be­hind either Dreams, or Lyes, or Flat­tery; and therefore I conceiv'd it not amiss to joyn them together in this treatise, and to deliver my sense of them, now that a fit occasion is offer'd. 'Tis certain that those so­lemnities which Priests use in per­forming the sacred offices of Reli­gion are properly styled Ceremonies: The Romans (as^(l) Polydore Virgil [Page 132] assures us) call'd all divine worship by this title; and afterwards when men began to salute one another with great appellati [...]ns of dignity and dominion, and by several artifi­cial gestures to exhibit mutually more reverence than perhaps was convenient, to bow the head, and kiss the hand, as if they were officiating at an Alter, 'tis probable this word was translated from its native to a more profane signification, and either because of the near resem­blance, or else by way of contempt and scorn, these phantastick mocke­ries of veneration were term'd Cere­monies; just as Banquets, by a like [Page 133] impropriety of speech, were in deri­sion nicknamed Triumphs.

This custome then without doubt derives its original not from us, but is of forein extraction, and by in­sensible degrees stole in and planted it self amongst us, and is now be­come so predominant, that it has almost rooted out all ingenuous sim­plicity, and honest faithfulness, and true generosity of spirit, and corrup­ted these noble and useful virtues into empty formalities, and super­fluous words, and specious pageantry and pretenses. Not that I in the least condemn those external usages and decent applications, which civi­liz'd people have ever practis'd in all countries, and ages of the world, to procure and reciprocally to de­monstrate inward affection and re­spect; for no man is oblig'd to be a [Page 134] sloven, or a clown: But if we consi­der that now a-dayes they are made to consist in nothing but trifling forms, and counterfeited addresses, & are terminated in a bare outside; & that they who delight to use them most, are persons of an exceeding light and aëry humour, the very froth of the Nation where they live; and (which disparages them not a little) that they are commonly imployed to unworthy purposes; we shall be en­forced to conclude, that they are ex­pressions not so much of honour and reverence, as of deceit and baseness, contriv'd to abuse, and sometimes to destroy with the less suspicion, But that I may not seem to pass sentence rashly, and to be rude and unjust in my determination, I shall range all Ceremonies and Comple­ments into three several ranks and orders, according to the various [Page 135] ends whereunto they are design'd, and discourse of them apart; and when I have done so, 'twill I pre­sume, be easie to distinguish the in­nocent from the guilty. They either aim at profit and advantage, or are the issue of vanity and ostentation, or else proceed from courtesie and a due esteem and regard of those towards whom they are directed.

Some are intended merely to de­ceive and undermine; and such are so infamous, so unbeseeming men of worth and bravery, that they are in­finitely to be abhorr'd. In this kind Flatterers (of whom I have spoken in the preceding Chapter) chiefly offend, who, like the Parthian hors­men, ride one way, and shoot the clean contrary;

[Page 136] These put on the shew and guise of Friendship, and conform in every instance to the Appetites of Great personages, and truckle under all their commands, not to do them real service, nor that they may com­pass their good opinion, but only that they may insinuate into their purses; not to gratifie, but to delude them. And notwithstanding that this vice may happily be delightful for a time, yet the sweetness of it is dead­ly poison; 'tis abominable and de­structive, and not at all becoming good-natur'd and well-mannered men; for 'tis neither lawful nor gentile under the colour of pleasing to hurt another for our own benefit, and as often as we do so we call our selves perfidious Villains; what are such Ceremonies and Comple­ments but pernicious Lyes, gilded and varnish'd over with the gloss [Page 137] of Truth, and most detestable trea­cheries? And tell me, can there be any thing more dishonourable and vile than to caress and fawn, when inwardly you resolve to worry; to usher in destruction with soft lan­guage, and to stroak him gently whom you design to smite under the fifth rib never to rise again? to bring a man a present, that you may get a fair opportunity to stab him? And yet 'tis ordinary (for Courtiers too, they say, who should be paterns of heroick actions) like the serpent, to crouch and bend in all the flexures of a sweet compliance, and instantly to hiss, and turn tail, and sting to death; to cut ones throat with a clean knife, or a keen rasour set with oyl; like the Chirurgion, who wrapt up his lancelet in a spunge, with which whilest he smooth'd his patients side he made a deep incē­sion; [Page 138] to cry, your most devoted humble servant, and enclasp him in their arms (as if they meant to admit him into a full possession of their heart) whom they revile and curse behind his back, and study by all arts and stratagems they can devise irreco­verably to mischief. But these just­ly merit to be reckon'd in the num­ber of the very worst sort of men, being the most ignoble and dange­rous kind of enemies; for to be a professed open adversary has some­thing of gallantry and favour in it (such, like the lightning before the thunder, give us warning to arm and prepare for the assault) but to betray with a kiss, and to preface ruine with an appearance of civility and kindness, is the most wretched and barbarous inhumanity imagina­ble. That Brutus, Caesars great con­fident, should have a hand in the [Page 139] conspiracy against him, wounded him deeper than the fatal dagger:^(m) What thou my Son? were the words with which he breath'd out his life. In all your civil addresses then be sure you observe this cau­tion, Let not the Courtier in you supplant the Friend.

Sometimes a light phantastick hu­mour is the parent of Ceremonious applications; and these I call vain and foolish, because they consist in idle words, and high-swoln encomi­ums, and pompous titles, and mimi­cal gestures, and are not seconded with real performances, but vanish into empty air. And if we consider them aright, and make an estimate of them by the rules and proportions of solid value, we must needs confess [Page 140] that they are so far from being testi­monies of true honour and sincere affection, that they are nothing else but an industrious fond mispense of time and breath: For, if you mark it you will find, that those who take greatest delight in them, and are the completest masters of this Art, are commonly persons that have only a gay out-side to recommend them, but not one dram of internal weight and goodness, and that they bestow them in the most liberal measure upon those they least respect, and would not willingly come near; for intimate acquain­tants and dear Friends are usually treated freely, and without the charge or trouble of tedious circum­stances and forms of Courtship. And upon this double account it is, that such words and phrases have lost their primitive force and virtue, [Page 141] and are almost degenerated into inarticulate sounds, & by being con­tinually abus'd (like a sword whose Edge is turn'd) are able to make no deep impression; so that we are not concern'd acurately to examine the just importance of every tittle, nor to pass the same construction upon them we do in cases of greater mo­ment. And this is clearly manifest by what happens every day; for if by chance we light into the com­pany of some we never saw before, and an occasion of discourse be of­fer'd, we don't stay to make a strict search into their dignity and pro­fession; but rather than seem to undervalue them, confer titles upon them beyond the merit of their place and birth, and at a venture call him Sir, and her Madam, that wear good clothes; though afterwards the one prove but a Taylor, and the [Page 142] other a Chambermaid. And truly as the matter now stands with us, we must be prodigal in our communica­tion of names of honour and respect, for 'tis grown the fashion, and cu­stome bears a mighty sway in all af­fairs of this kind: And notwith­standing that it is meerly a specious pretense, and a vain ostentation of words, which signifie nothing at all to any real purpose; yet is it not for you or me to assume the privi­lege and boldness, so much as to attempt an abrogation. Nay, when this is not so much our private fault, as the crime of the Age and Nation wherein we live, we are bound to conform, as far as we may, without dishonesty or notorious folly: But then if we do it out of pure choice we are hugely to blame, for we publish the infirmity and light­ness of our mind. To this end, it will [Page 143] be useful to resume what I laid down at the beginning of this Chapter; That Complemental addresses are not intrinsecally & in their own na­ture necessary, but rather unprofitable and cumbersome; and if by common consent it could obtein that they might be fairly laid aside, all business would be more expeditely dispatcht; but every place is infected with this itch; and since this practice is worn into a Custome, and almost esta­blish'd into a Law, we must sub­mit to the exercise of it (though some things in use at present per­haps were formerly interdicted, and are irksome to a generous and noble disposition) yet so as not to doe the least violence to veracity and prudence, or goe a hairs-breadth beyond the limits of moderation and sobriety, which may best be defin'd by the judgment and ex­ample [Page 144] of the most discreet and grave men.

A certain King named Oëdipus, being forced out of his own coun­try, repair'd to Athens to King The­seus for shelter and protection from his enemies, who pursued him to take away his life: when he came into Theseus's presence, he suppos'd that he heard him speak to his Daughter (for he was blind) whose voice he knew, and therefore neg­lected to salute the King, and (his bowels yerning) turn'd him to em­brace his Daughter. Assoon as he apprehended his error (the eager­ness and ecstasie of his joy being somewhat abated) he began to make a large Apologie for himself upon the account of paternal affection. But the wise and good King would not suffer him to proceed, but in­terrupted him with these words; [Page 145] Be of good chear Oëdipus, for ⁽ⁿ⁾ I study to make my life famous not so much by splendid appearances and the applauses of others, as by mine own illustrious acts of solid vertue. ^(o) Cicero gives a special caution that we should not prefer Socrates above Cato (notwithstanding that the Oracle of Apollo pronounc'd him the wisest man upon earth) be­cause Cato was commendable for his deeds, but Socrates only for his say­ings. And Orlando the Nephew of Charles the Great is worthily ex­toll'd by^(p) Ariostus an Italian [Page 146] Poët, in that he was fuller of good­ness than of words, more ready to practise than to boast vertue, to doe well than to talk finely. These in­stances deserve to be remark'd and engrav'd upon every man's mind in indeleble characters. But the fawn­ing profane complement of Teridates to Nero was most odious and intole­rable, ^(q) [I, my good Lord, descended of Arsaces, Brother to Vologaesus and Pacorus, am intirely at your ser­vice; and I am come unto you, as unto my God: adoring you even as I would Mithras (that is the ^(r) Sun, the Persian Deity:) My self and For­tunes depend upon you, and shall [Page 147] be dispos'd as you think fit.] For al­though it may highly please men to be honour'd and courted by o­thers, yet if they perceive that it is constrain'd and merely artificial, they doe not only take it unkindly, but resent it as a gross affront: And well they may, for such insinuations and flatteries (besides other infirmi­ties they labour with) have this de­fect discernible in them, that those cogging dissemblers plainly declare, that they believe them whom they entice and endeavour to intrap, to be so vain and arrogant, and withall so dull and stupid, that it is no dif­ficult matter to catch and deceive them. Nor can soothing comple­menters easily conceal their baseness; for their visards are grown so thin, and themselves so transparent, that a short-sighted man may pierce through them, and detect and baffle [Page 148] their stratagems. Adde to this, that Ceremonies are exceeding trou­blesome; and yet there are some who make a trade and merchandise of them, and measure them out at certain rates: One shall have a pound, and another it may be but an ounce; this man shall be treated fa­miliarly, and that at a more remote distance; one shall be placed in a great chair, and another must be contented with a meaner seat. But 'tis vile and improper that signifi­cations of love and respect should be expos'd to sale, and made vendible commodities; and they who use complements out of a fond affecta­tion, and to serve other ends than those of civility and friendship, demonstrate themselves to be persons of a light phantastick tem­per, and of very little imployment. The Soul is a mighty busie thing, [Page 149] and, if it be not exercis'd about se­rious affairs, 'twill exert and spend its activity upon trifles; And because these formalities are represented to their^(s) eyes, and have a pretty a­spect, and look like marks of singu­lar education, and are not hard to be compass'd, they addict their minds extremely to the study of them; but matters of weightier concern­ment they can by no means endure to learn, they are too strong for their effeminate understandings to en­counter. The highest attainment of these puff-paste Gallants is to con­gee after the newest French fashion, and cry, Your most faithfull servant, My Lord, and swear with a bone-grace: Pitifull pieces of pageantry, that have a plausible outside, but no [Page 150] solidity within; like those Apples ^(t) Tacitus and other Writers make mention of, that appear lovely, but upon the lightest touch fall to ashes; or like the Aegyptian Temples that are beautified with fair Frontis­pieces, but if you search into them, nothing can be found, save only a Crocodile, or a Cat, or some such petty sneaking Deity: doe but come near them, and like the sensible plant they contract their leaves within the stalk, and shrivle up to nothing; and heartily wish that the [Page 151] whole commerce and intercourse of humane society might extend no far­ther than these specious Ceremonies. And there are not a few in the world who put on artificial modes and garbs, to hide the deformities of a rugged, and slovenly, and narrow disposition, and entertain you with Complements, because they are not able to talk pertinently upon any material subject (just as some men^(u) swear, only to fill up the vacui­ties of their empty discourse) consi­dering that if they should be as per­verse and brutish in their outward de­portment, as they are internally in their nature, their company would be an intolerable burthen to all with whom they do converse. This then I confidently affirm (and your own [Page 152] experience will attest it) that they who delight excessively in using superficial formalities, do it for one of the two reasons before recited; and that not many like to be tied up strictly to a Ceremonious behaviour, for it hinders them from living ac­cording to their own inclination, and deprives them of their liberty, which every man is apt to value, as one of the most desirable possessions upon earth.

And now having advanced thus far, it remains that I treat of such Ceremonies, as we are in Duty ob­liged to perform. These are by no means to be laid aside; for the omission of a due payment of them does not only displease but injure others, and oftentimes it comes to pass, that there arises a quarrel not to be decided but by the sword, for this cause that one took the wall of [Page 153] his Superior, or did not give him that respect as he passed by, which of right belong'd to him.^(w) Cu­stome is a second nature, and we see^(x) it prevails upon men more than the commands of their parents, and the perswasions of their friends, the statutes of the Nation, and the insti­tutions of Religion; and in things of this kind, it has almost the force and obligation of a Law: Wherefore he that calls persons of high rank and quality by vulgar names, and accosts them in the same terms as as he does rustical people, dispara­ges [Page 154] them and is uncivil. It is not fit to speak in the singular number (much less to place Religion in do­ing so) to a man of worth and digni­ty, that is in the^(y) English phrase, to Thou him; for this is esteem'd a great indignity, when it is not a mark of familiar acquaintance. And if the fashions of other Countreys and Ages have been different, this con­cerns not us, nor are we to dispute whether of the two be more sute­able; it being convenient that we should comply with those Customes, not which are absolutely best, but which are at present most in use; as [Page 155] we yield obedience unto several Laws, not because they are the most reasonable and equal that can be made, but because they remain still in their full vigour, having ne­ver been repeal'd by that Sovereign Authority which enacted them. And if the Case stand thus, 'tis re­quisite that we diligently observe with what gestures and forms of speech it is usual at this day, in the place where we reside, to receive and salute persons of all sorts and condi­tions, that so we may be capable readily to discharge that debt of honour and respect which peculiarly belongs to every order. And al­though ('tis likely according to the manner of those times) the High-Admiral discours'd to Peter, King of Arragon, in the singular number, yet the style is now alter'd, and it would be unpardonable sawciness a­mongst, [Page 156] us either in speech or letters, to make address to the King and Prince, with any other Titles but Your Sacred Majesty, and Your Royal Highness: And as he conform'd to the mode of his times, so must we submit to the manners of our own. And these I call Ceremonies of Du­ty, because they receive not their being from our will, but from Law, that is to say, from a General Cu­stome, which is equivalent in things of this nature, and binds us (if I mis­take not) to the practise of what­soever is not prohibited. In matters which have no viciousness adhering to them, but rather a semblance of courtesie and goodness, it seems to me very expedient that we should conform to that common usage, and not raise scruples and contentions. And notwithstanding that to kiss, in token of reverence, is properly a [Page 157] Religious rite, and appertains to sa­cred things; yet if it be ordinary in the Kingdome where we live for men to say at their approach or depar­ture, Sir, I kiss your hand; or, I am intirely at your service; or, I resign up my self to be dispos'd of at your pleasure; you ought not to be sin­gular, but use these, or such like ex­pressions, as well as others. In salu­ting and writing letters, and indeed in all instances of civil conversation, you are to behave your self, not ex­actly according to the measures and dictates of reason (I mean, that which appears to be so to you) much less is your own humour and fancy to be your Guide, but Custom, the Rule of Decency; and that not as it was in former ages, but as it is at this present time. And therefore it is not for you to object and say, How comes such a one to be a Gentle­man? [Page 158] or, Why should I give him any respect? for if he be frequently styled Master, he will imagine you scorn and revile him if you call him by his proper name, and apply your self to him after a Vulgar manner. And (as I said before) these Ap­pellations of Lordship and Service are smooth'd and pollished by conti­nual use, and have in a great mea­sure lost their harshness by being daily in every ones mouth; and, like Herbs stiep'd in water, are become so soft, that we have no reason to be nice and froward. I beseech you, do but consider how ridiculous it would be to begin letters to great perso­nages with [If you are in good health it is well, I am in good health] because the old Latins were wont to preface theirs so. If you will be conducted by no prescription but this, and go back for a pattern in all particulars [Page 159] to the primitive times, and trace Nature into her cradle, you must eat nothing, for ought I know, but herbs and^(z) acorns, nor wear any clothes but what are made of the skins of Beasts. But then in these we call officious Ceremonies a double caution is necessary to be observ'd.

First, that we have regard to the Country wherein we live; for all Customes doe not equally agree with the constitution of every nation, but (whether it is to be imputed to the difference of soiles and Climates, or to their mutual oppositions, or to some other cause, I shall not under­take to determine) as the lineaments of mens faces, and the conceptions of their understandings are various, so are their manners and deportments [Page 160] too; and almost every Kingdome has its peculiar usages and customary significations of respect. The Mosco­vites perform their homage to the Great Duke by bowing so low, that they touch the ground with their forehead; The Aethiopians sit in the Kings presence in token of sub­jection, standing being there a distin­ctive posture of the greatest emi­nence and dignity (as^(a) some peo­ple worshipped sitting on their beds before their Idols, and particularly^(b) the sacrifices of Hercules were celebrated by the Heathen sitting.) The Negroes give sign of reverence by sitting, and leaning with their elbows on their knees, and covering their faces with their hands, as an acknowledgment that they are not worthy to look upon him. The In­habitants [Page 161] of Japan, out of the per­fect enmity they bear to their neigh­bours of China, salute one another by putting off their shooes or san­dals; and (to mention no more) the French and Spaniards (though near in scituation, yet) are as distant in their modes and behaviours as East and West. The English (as likewise several other people) uncover the Head (which is the principal mem­ber of the body) in sign of honour and veneration, and to shew their readiness to listen to (for by putting off the hat the ears are uncover'd) and obey the commands of their Su­periors; & bow the body in testimony of submission; and embrace one ano­ther in token of union and friendship; and^* shake hands to intimate a league [Page 162] and contract willingly to spend their fortunes and lives in a mutual de­fence; and clap one another upon the shoulder (which yet the Turks reckon one of the greatest indig­nities that can be offer'd, I sup­pose, because they brand their slaves on that part) in token of familiar acquaintance; and kiss the^(c) lips (a Ceremonie deriv'd from the Ea­stern nations) an expression of ami­tie and dearness, as if they could be contented, were it possible, to insi­nuate and melt their very Souls into one another, and to be joyn'd toge­ther into^(d) the same Being; and kiss [Page 163] the^(e) hand (which is no new piece of servility invented by modern Courtiers, but an exceeding aged so­lemnity, borrowed from the supersti­tion of the Antient Gentiles, who were wont whenever thy passed by a Temple or Altar, or saw any crea­ture or statue in which they imagin'd a Divinity to dwell (for in former Times nothing more plentiful a­mongst them than^(f) Gods) in signification of sacred reverence, to^(g) put their hand to their mouth, [Page 164] and^(h) softly to mutter some peti­tions to those wooden or stonie Dei­ties, to be propitious to them and prosper their affairs. Every custome and Ceremonie is not fit for all places; those which well become Naples, a City abounding with Noble-men and persons of greatest eminence, would not suit at all with Luca or Florence, which consist for the most part of Merchants and Tradesmen; so that if the manners and fashions of the Neapolitans were [Page 165] translated to Florence, they would look like the clothes of a Giant upon a Pigmey, a huge deal too big and combersome; as, on the contrary, those the Florentines use would sit upon the Neapolitans (according to the⁽ⁱ⁾ old Greek Proverb) like armor taken from a Pigmey upon the trunk of a great Colossus. And notwith­standing that the Noble Venetians in regard of their publick offices honour one another in an extraordi­nary measure, it is not therefore convenient that the Inhabitants of^(k) Rovigo or^(l) Asola should use [Page 166] the same solemnities and mutual ob­servance; although (if I rightly remember) the whole Vicinage, whether through their abundance of idleness, or out of an ambition to imitate their mistress the City of Venice (as every one is apt to tread in the steps of his Lord, when per­haps he can render no reason why he should do so) practise the like for­malities.

Secondly, we must have respect to the occasions, age, and condition both of him towards whom we exercise these Ceremonies, and also of our selves. It behoves us when we meet with men distracted with urgent affaires, not to detein them with fri­volous Complements, but to break off as soon as may be, and to intimate [Page 167] our mind by dumb signes, rather than stand to express it by tedious harangues. This they understand well how to do in the Court of Rome; but in many places imper­tinent discourses and unseasonable ap­plications (besides that they create no small trouble) are a great hinde­rance to the dispatch of serious busi­ness. You may observe frequently that a person of quality, who has but a little time to spare from his weighty imployments, will cry to one of meaner rank, I pray be cover'd; and he, after he has scraped I know not how many legs, at length answers; My Lord, I am very well, I humbly thank your Honour, I have no need to put on my hat. To whom he will reply; I beseech you Sir; what do you mean? spare your courtesie: But he wreaths himself into twenty foo­lish postures and looks simply awhile, [Page 168] and at last with a huge deal of gra­vity bowing to the ground rejoins; I earnestly intreat your Lordship to suf­fer me to discharge that duty which I owe: It is not for me to presume to be cover'd before your Honour. And this verbal strife takes up as much time as would have been sufficient for a Judge to have determin'd two or three material Causes. 'Tis true, whenever any one of low estate comes into the presence of a Magi­strate, or Nobleman, he ought to give him that respect which his place merits; but if the time will not con­veniently permit, let him be sparing of Ceremonies, for he that is immo­derate at such a season is sure to be ungratefull. But neither doe the same modes and gestures become old and young, men of the highest and of ordinary quality; nor is it proper for Mechanicks and persons of mean [Page 169] rank to use many, and those solemn addresses to great ones (especially if they are incomber'd with business) since they are not wont to use them often, nor doe they delight much in them, or exact them punctually from others, or indeed mind them, being intent upon more serious matters; for they seem to expect from that sort of men^(m) obedience rather than formality: Now no Servant is to stand so much upon his terms with his Master as to complement him; if he does, his Master will ima­gine that he despises him, and calls his power and dominion in question; but he is bound readily to execute his commands. This kind of Cere­monies then is to be exercis'd freely [Page 170] without the least coaction; for that which any one performs as a real due will be reckon'd as an act of Justice, not Civility; but he who does more than he is oblig'd to, purchases the reputation of a well-bred man.

'Twas no small commendation, in my judgment, of⁽ⁿ⁾ Aristippus, that he knew well how to conform him­self to all times, places, and persons; and truly he that is exceeding weal­thy, and wants a comely gentile car­riage to set him off, looks just like an Ass laden with Gold. Take the summe of all in few words. You must behave your self as a Taylor does in making clothes; he cuts, and pairs away, and fits them to the body, so that they are something too big rather than too little, and yet not so wide and ill-fashion'd as to [Page 171] sit like a sack: If you are phanta­stick and profuse in Complements and Ceremonies towards superiors, every one will point at you for a vain light fellow; nay, perhaps you will be accounted a flattering knave (such a one as Colax in Menander, and Gnatho in Terence are represen­ted to be) than which there's al­most nothing more detestable, no­thing more unbecoming a rational creature: If you bestow them with a handsom distance upon inferiors, you will be styl'd humble and cour­teous; if in decent proportions upon equals, you will be esteem'd a well-manner'd person; and besides (to conclude this discourse with the words of a^(o) famous Poët) He who [Page 172] treats men ingenuously, and conver­ses kindly with them, oftentimes gets a great profit with a very trifling easie expense.

CHAP. VII. Of the Moderation of the Tongue in some other Instances.

^(p) ANarcharsis being ask'd what was the best and the worst member, answer'd the Tongue; 'tis the main Instrument of good and bad; and though it be but a little Engine, yet is it able (if it be not prudently manag'd) to do the grea­test mischiefs; to discompose the sweetest harmony, and to disorder the frame of Government, and to set the whole fabrick of the World on fire: And therefore it was handsomely [Page 173] said of^(q) Plutarch, that they who are well instituted, are taught first to be silent, and afterwards to speak to good purposes. It is not expedient to fill our discourses with private stories of the misfortunes, and sharp censures of the persons and actions of other men (notwithstanding that many are apt to listen atten­tively to them, and to rejoyce at the calamities of those they envied) for no discreet sober person can value the acquaintance of him who is un­charitable and severe, because he be­lieves that he will report the very same things or worse of him behind his back, and (according to the old Proverb) Every one takes care to avoid a mad Bull that has ^(r) hay twisted about his horn. 'Tis an un­worthy [Page 174] practise to be a Tale-bearer, & to strike at any ones good name, either directly or with an oblique blow.^(s) A Detractor takes a se­cret revenge on virtue, and destroys the guiltless, roots up love, and un­dermines the reputation when he seems to build it higher. Some have a perfidious trick to ruine a man by^(t) commendations, to praise for small things, that they may disparage suc­cessfully for greater; as He the Poët [Page 175] mentions in these words,^(u) Capi­tolinus I know well, and we have a long time familiarly convers'd to­gether and pass'd several mutual ob­ligations upon each other, and I am heartily glad he is acquitted, yet I cannot chuse but admire how he should escape being condemn'd; but I le say no more, because he is my good friend. And we read of Syphax, that he made Scipio conceive an irreconcile­able hatred against Sophonisba by extolling her beauty and constant affection to her country. But 'tis extreme baseness to lift a man up merely that his fall may be the hea­vier, and to advance him to the top of a pinnacle with design to throw him headlong down. Some again never speak well of any, but, [...] [Page 176] [...] [Page] [Page 176] like the looking-glasses in the Tem­ple at Smyrna, represent the fairest and best-featur'd face exceeding ugly and deform'd. And to this, Railing (the vice of Boyes, and Women, and effeminate men) is near of kin. 'Tis an evident testimony of want of breeding, as well as sobrie­ty, to^(w) declaim bitterly for a trifle, and to reproach almost every one we come near, and he who does so (as^(x) the man in the Comedy told his scolding wife) is more like a Dog than a virtuous and civil Person. Agellius relates of a certain Boy, that he would give any that he met a box on the Ear, and (which is [Page 177] more strange,^(y) the Claudian Fa­mily in Rome were wont contume­liously to handle all that fell under their power. These are both ^(z) in­tolerable evils, and^(a) destructive of humane society, and differ only as white and black powder, the former does as terrible execution as the other, though it makes not so^(b) thundering a noise.

Some have an itch upon them to oppose almost every thing that is asserted, and mightily affect to dis­pute [Page 178] of difficult and unnecessary cases, observing no difference of time or company. But^(c) this is one of the most ridiculous follies in the world, and very often proves a scab, and 'tis a demonstration that they are little acquainted with the temper and constitution of mankind; for all are desirous to win the prize, and (though it be^(d) better to be over­come by Truth, than to subdue your Antagonist to an Error, yet) none can endure to be baffled, and triumph'd over; besides that to contradict upon all occasions is an argument of a perverse and peevish humour. He [Page 179] then that would be acceptable and obliging in his Conversation must carefully abstain from such expressi­ons as these; Sir, what you say is not true: I am certain the matter is quite otherwise than you relate it: You ut­terly mistake your self: You don't at all understand what you speak; much more from giving the Lye to any. Nor is it convenient to lay wagers at every turn (for they frequently beget quarrels, and contribute no­thing towards the solution of the doubt) but rather (especially if the business be of no great moment) to yeild to the affirmations of other men; for the victory seldome quits for cost, but for the most part the conqueror is indammag'd by it; it commonly happens that he who gets the better in a frivolous que­stion, loses a dear friend, and exposes himself to several grand inconve­niences, [Page 180] and becomes so odious that few care to associate with him, lest they should be assaulted & suffer the trouble of a needless controversie; but are apt to cast dirt upon him, and to load him with disgraceful names: one calls him a shallow empty fellow; and another, a conceited opi­niator; and a third, an impertinent obstinate wrangler. But if you are invited by a fair opportunity to dispute, be studious to manage your discourse ingenuously, and to sweeten it with gentleness and moderation; don't set upon your opponent with a fierce appetite as if you meant to devour him at a mouthfull, and were eagerly ambitious to silence and overthrow him; but if you perceive him to grow warm and angry, endea­vour to^(e) asswage his Paroxysm [Page 181] with soft drops; for^(f) a hot iron must not be put into the fire, but into Water. None can be con­strain'd to relinquish his own opi­nions, nor is it equal to make your apprehension the measure of anothers, and you differ from him as much as he does from you, and whether you are in the right or wrong, is not to be determin'd by your partial self, but by sober uninteressed Judges, and the garland is to be dispos'd of as they shall think fit. And if you do but seriously consider how closely the generality of men are wedded to their own conceptions, and how fond­ly they dote upon the Brats of their own fancy, and how unwilling they are to be accounted Ignorant, and withall how uncomely a thing it is to contend earnestly about a Goats beard [Page 182] or a lock of wool (and truly most or­dinary vehement altercations are of no higher concerment) and what a disturbance to the company; you will, I doubt not, be extremely cau­tious how you engage in a verbal combate. And yet so foolish are some, that they wonderfully please themselves in such conquests, as much as if they had taken a strong fort, or routed an enemy in the field; they imagine that they have gain'd the reputation of most acute and subtil men, and this prompts them to erect Trophies to their own wit, and insolently to tyrannize over all they meet, and proudly to obtrude their counsels upon them, and to be angry when they are rejected, and reprehend those that are not of their judgment, and sometimes to pro­ceed from words to blows, and to set up a School to receive Proselytes. [Page 183] But we are not to presume to give advice to any unless it be to our familiars, and those that are com­mitted to our inspection, and stran­gers that are involv'd in dangers and cannot tell how to extricate themselves; for 'tis an extolling our own wisdome, and upbraiding them with imprudence in conducting their affairs, and an argument that we love to intermeddle with other mens business; And yet there are persons so arrogant and self-con­ceited as to undertake to prescribe Rules to a whole Nation, and fall out with all that don't comply with them, and cry, that the world is mad, and that men are giddy, and rash, and will not be rul'd by sober wholesome instructions; and that if you don't amend such and such practises you'l be undone.

Others are exceeding solicitous to pull a mote out of their Neigh­bours eye, and in the mean time regard not the beam that is in their own; they take great pains to root up the tares in the next field, but suffer briers and nettles and all sorts of stinking weeds to grow and prosper in that which peculiarly belongs to them; that is, they are severe in correcting the light faults of others, when they themselves are guilty of such as more deserve to be reprov'd. And to be near these cannot chuse but be unpleasant, for every one loves his liberty, and hates to be roughly dealt with, and magisterially impos'd upon; and indeed this temper befits Parents and School-masters rather than Companions; though yet, I think, to educate Children after a more free gentile manner than is at present in use [Page 185] amongst us, would be more reaso­nable and succesfull.

^(g)Make no loud expressions of mirth or sorrow, for both are im­proper and tedious. Don't there­fore (as you may observe too many inconsiderately do) molest the com­pany by your singing, or create sad­ness in them by telling dolefull sto­ries, especially if they have not any relation to you.

You ought not to mock any one though he be your greatest enemy, for 'tis possible you may wound him deeper with your tongue, than if you should strike him with your sword; [Page 186] and this infallibly demonstrates your contempt of him, because when you jeer and put him to the blush, you intend not profit but plea­sure by it; and 'tis hugely immodest and ignoble too to take delight in confounding another, and exposing him to scorn and laughter. For in­stance, 'tis unworthy to reproach men either by words or apish gestures with the infirmities and blemishes of Na­ture, for being blear-eyed or splay­footed, of a Giant-like or a dwarfish stature, for having a stammering tongue or a crooked back; for it may be, they can no more help these defects than they can hinder the rising and setting of the Sun; and 'tis burthen enough to bear them, they need not have a load of contu­melies heap'd upon them. I am not so morose as to condemn Jesting and Ralliary, only I would have it bounded with these limits.

First, let not any ones Deformity and unhappiness be the subject of it; for (besides the reasons alleg'd be­fore) 'tis a violation of the great Rule of Justice (which Severus caus'd to be engrav'd on all his plate)^(h) That we should do as we would be done by; and sometimes it meets with such a retort as is not easily wiped off. 'Twas tartly spoken of the Emperour Augustus to Crook­back'd Galba, as he was pleading his cause before him, and frequently urg'd that he would correct what­soever he espied amiss in him,⁽ⁱ⁾ I may find fault with, but can't reform you: and of another,^(k) That his Soul had a very unhandsome dwelling. [Page 188] And of Proclus, ^(l) That he could n [...] wipe his Nose with his hand, becau [...]e the one was so big and the other s [...] little; nor call to Jupiter when he snees'd, because the sound could not reach his ears, they were at so great a distance from the end of his nose; and^(m) Julius was rude towards Man­cias, when he told him, that he look'd just like the Image painted upon the shield. But they who addict them­selves to such taunts are often paid [Page 189] in their own coin: So when a crook­back'd fellow upbraided Byzantius with the weakness of his eyes, he replied, Thou objectest to me a hu­mane infirmity, when thou bearest thy punishment on thy back. And when a tall meager Venetian, who was a notable Lecher, call'd Galeottus Mar­tius, tutor to Matthew King of Hun­gary, a huge corpulent man, by way of reproach, a greasy Swine, he an­swer'd, That it was better to be a fat Hog than a lean Goat.

Secondly, Drole not upon the per­sons or practices of your Superiors, for there is both sawciness and dan­ger in it. Rodolphus the first, Em­perour of Germany, who had an ex­traordinary Roman Nose, met a pra­ting conceited fellow in a very nar­row steep place, who being com­manded several times by some of the [Page 190] guard to go aside, cried out, That there was a Nose fill'd up the way that he could not stir: At which some were incens'd, and would have kill'd him with their Halbards; but the Emperour laughing, turn'd his Nose on one side, and bid him pass by. 'Twas well He was in so good a hu­mour, otherwise the fancy had been quite spoil'd. ⁽ⁿ⁾ An unseasonable jest upon one-eyed King Antigonus cost Theocritus Chius both his, and his life too into the bargain, after the King had solemnly sworn that he would forgive a former crime.

Thirdly, Make not a jest of se­rious matters, whether they be civil or divine. ^(o) It does not become a Judge to play the Mimic upon the bench, much less to exercise his wit upon condemned Malefactors, nor any one to feed his wanton fancy with the sighs and grones of distres­sed persons, nor an Ecclesiastick to fill his Auditors ears with half-witted quibbles and light trash, for it makes Religion become ridiculous to dress it up in vain attire,^(p) and that which may pass for a jest amongst [Page 192] Lay-men, is blaspemy in a Priests mouth. Be sure therefore that you refrain from polluting sacred things with profane breath and an un­hallowed Tongue; for this is a vast heap of follies, and argues want of good manners as well as of virtue sober wit; and to make a sport of vice deserves the stings of Scorpions, and the winding lashes of Furies, or some more tormenting punishment. Nor will grave secular affairs admit of fooling; Lupus aggravated his crime whilest he endeavour'd after this manner to excuse it [Notwith­standing that he might have defen­ded the^(q) Laterin Castle, yet as soon as he perceiv'd that his ene­mies had cast up a trench, and com­pass'd him about, he instantly de­liver'd it up to them, saying (with [Page 193] an allusion to his name) That it was contrary to the nature of a Wolf to be pent in folds and small inclosures] for where there is no place for laughter, it is not convenient to jest and trifle.

Fourthly, Observe a distinction of Persons, and times, and other cir­cumstances. Some are so froward and waspish that they will not en­dure the softest touch; and that will be taken well to day, which per­chance will be reputed a scoff to morrow. ^(p) Cicero did amiss when he plaid upon Cato, and was styled the Ridiculous Consul for his pains.

Fifthly, Beware of Jeering in­stead of Jesting. These two are [Page 194] very much alike, and are frequently mistaken for one another, differing only in the Intention of the Author. The former is a real Injury, but the later an innocent recreation. Your jests may have salt in them, but no gall; or (in the words of a wise man) they must be gentle and harm­less, like pretty sheep, not fierce and snarling like surly Dogs. 'Twas an irreverent scurvy answer that a Gentleman gave to^(s) P. Scipio Na­sica and M. Popilius the two Cen­fors, when they ask'd him how it came to pass, that his horse was such a resty lean Jade, and so ill-dress'd, [Page 195] and he the rider so plump, and brisk, and well-habited; That he lookt to himself, but his servant Statius to his horse; and he was presently dis­franchis'd for it. When one ask'd his Neighbour what he bark'd at him for? and he replied, because he saw a Thief, both were to blame; for the question and answer were equally sharp and biting. Nor must you be bold in your Ralliary, because you see another so. The little Dog in Aesop was made much of for playing familiarly with his Master, and faw­ning upon him and wagging his tail, and leaping up into his lap, when the silly Ass was whipt and soundly beaten for pawing upon him in imi­tation. You know the Proverb, That one may better steal a horse than another look over the hedge; and 'tis an old Rule, ^(t) That two may do the [Page 196] same action, and yet the action not be the same; not that the diffe­rence lies properly in the thing, but in the persons who perform it, and in those towards whom it is exer­cis'd. Some, I know, peremptorily condemn not only the looser, but even^(u) all jestings, as below the spirit of a brave and sober man; But this, I think, is over-tetrical, for I cannot imagine why (if they are not design'd to evil purposes) they should not be reckon'd amongst honest and ingenuous divertisements.^(w) Aristotle accounts them amiable [Page 197] persons who are dextrous at giving and taking Jests. And it was or­dain'd amongst the Lacedemonians by Lycurgus their famous Lawgiver, that young men should be train'd up in this practise; and if any were offended, he should be debarr'd the privilege of medling with another in that kind. We read of^(x) Mitio, that though he lov'd Aeschinus be­yond all expression, yet he would assume liberty to sport with and to laugh at him. And Asinius Pollio for his elegancy was term'd the parent of witty conceits, and for his readiness, a man of all hours. And St. Anthony the Father of the Her­mits, and his Scholar St. Paul, and St. Hilarion were of a pleasant con­versation: and Suidas tells us that the Bishop Sisinnius was of a festival [Page 198] spirit, and a gay humour, and very apt at handsome extemporary Repar­ties. A Melancholick disposition un­doubtedly is the fruitfullest stock for vice to graff upon, whereas a lively discourse revives us more than the briskest wines, and infuses new vigour and cheerfulness into our spirits; and if it be not sharp, or wanton, or peccant in any of the fore­mention'd instances, we may confi­dently define it to be lawfull. And a Jest (if it hit right) may do more good than sober counsels; as Archee made King James sensible of the great danger the Prince was in in Spain, by telling him, that He came to change caps with him. Why said the King? Because (replied Archee) thou hast sent the Prince into Spain, from whence he is never like to return. But (said the King) what wilt thou say when thou seest him come back [Page 199] again? Marry, says he, I will take off the Fools Cap which I now put upon thy head for sending him thither, and put it on the King of Spains for let­ting him return. And now all the scruple that remains will be of the prudence and fitness of it, and that, I suppose, may be determin'd by these measures.

First, Let it not border upon se­verity and derision, and seem a bitter pill wrapt in hony (for 'tis better to be silent, than appear to scoff, and make ignominious reflexions) but soft, and mild, and such as is likely to minister to harmless mirth, and end in nothing but peace and kind­ness. There was no sowrness in that of Cicero, when his Son-in-law Len­tulus, a man of low stature, was begirt with a very long sword, Who has tied my Son to that sword? Nor [Page 200] when he saw his little brother Quin­tus pictur'd in Asia to the middle with lineaments and features of too large a size, My half brother is bigger than my whole.

^(y)Secondly, Take care that your jests look not like the issue of labour and study, that they be not blunt and forced, and as it were squeez'd from your brain, but acute and easy, else not they, but you will be the object of laughter: They must be witty fallacies, subtil and artificial, prompt and sudden; and therefore 'tis pride and folly in dull plebeians to aspire to this faculty.

Thirdly, Don't delight in the dregs and refuse of wit; in flat and insipid quibbles and clinches; in [Page 201] ^(z) changings and ginglings of words and syllables; in scraps of verses, and senseless rhythms; in jumbling two languages together, and in^(a) phantastick returns. How ridi­culous is it when one inquires where such a Lord is, to reply, that he is in his clothes: How does that wine tast? As if it were moist. How do you relish that meat? With my palate. What fish do women love most? Place. Those in the Comaedian are something more tolerable, ^(b) Whosoever comes [Page 202] hither Ile make him eat my fists. Sir, I humbly thank you, I don't list to eat eat more to night, I have supp'd al­ready. And again, Merc. You came hither to day with your forged shifts and a cloak of deceit. Sos. No I came with my own clothes. Merc. But you don't say true, for you came with your feet. And that in^(c) Pon­tanus is not hugely extravagant. A pragmatical fellow seeing a Taylour have a shining drop hang at his Nos [...], cried out, What a fair and precious pearl is there? Yes, quoth he, it is so, and very fit for your finger.

Fourthly, Beware of pride and vain-glory: Don't hearken what a fine sound your jests make, nor steep them in your own laughter, neither by any means permit your wit to bubble up and run over in commen­dations [Page 203] of it self lest you become the greater Jest.

Fifthly; You must not speak or doe any thing after a careless and indecent manner, or make wry mouths, or use mimicall gestures, like Anticks or Morris-Dauncers, merely out of sport and to excite laughter; for no man ought to render himselfe contemptible that he may please others, nor is this an Art beseeming a Noble well-bred person, but only a publick Jester and a Buffon.

Sixthly, Suffer not such Toies to intoxicate and bewitch you, and con­sume too much of your time. Don't make a common practise of Jesting, but use it moderately as a Recreation. And truly when I have said all I can in defense of it, I must confess that [Page 204] it so nearly resembles^(d) scoffing, and that I find people generally so exceptious, and prone to take things by the wrong handle, that is, to in­terpret them to the harsher sense, and likewise so apt to spend their affections and precious hours upon these light and unprofitable enter­tainments (besides^(e) that the pro­fusest laughter is the worst indica­tion in the affections of the Spleen) that I cannot but think fit to re­commend the words of a grave per­son [Page 205] as most wise and safe (with which I shall shut up this Chapter)^(f) That if Jests seldome happen they are to be born, but never to be return'd and made a business of; we should ra­ther warily interpose to hinder the growth and progress of the trifle.

CHAP. VIII. Of severall externall and less hurtfull Indecencies belonging to the Speech, to be avoided.

THere are also some other things relating to Discourse which create delight (the contrary where­unto breed no small disdain) to wit, when the elegancy consists not in quick salt Jests, but a neat continued speech. 'Tis a pretty accomplishment to be able to tell a story well, that is, to contrive it into a handsome me­thod, and to cloth it with suteable expressions, and to represent the behaviours and manners of those we talk of so to the life, that the com­pany will imagine they behold the persons and their performances with their Eyes, as well as hear the Nar­ration with their ears; And this, [Page 207] believe it, is no ordinary mean skill, but a notable Art, and to do it ex­actly and without the assistance of the standers by, requires a ready ap­prehension, and an ingenious fine fancy, and a tenacious memory, and a gracefull clocution, and a perfect ac­quaintance with Names and Circum­stances: and (besides all these) a competent measure of Judgment and discretion, to direct us to abstein from needless circumlocutions, and from intangling our discourse with long Parentheses, and interweaving it with matters extrinsecal to the purpose, without which the story must needs be a great deal more clear and pleasant. The Lover in Plautus talk'd like himself, I mean, like a man half-distracted when he inter­rupted his speech with an account of his Family ^(f) [Megadorus is my [Page 208] Uncle, and Antimachus my Father; My Name is Lyconides, and my Mo­thers Eunomia] And how absurd and extravsgant is it to insert such impertinencies as these? [He of whom I speak is such a mans Nephew, he dwells in such a place, don't you know him? He married a Lords daughter, a lean woman, that us'd to come often to my Fathers house; 'tis strange you should not remember him; He is a comely proper man, and has long brown hair; if you don't know him you know no body] for if there be another like him, then all these words are thrown away, and at best they make a gap and are tedious and insignificant to the Auditors, who 'tis likely, all the while are swell'd with curiosity to hear the remainder of the story. And to carry it on the [Page 209] more cleanly and to good effect [...] 'twill be usefull sometimes to borrow Names, to correct vice under a dis­guise and by an innocent Fiction; to reprove a Covetous wretch under the Title of^(g) Tantalus, and an ingratefull man by the Fable of^(h) Ixion, and his wheel.

And let your phrase alwaies be plain and easy to be understood, else you will be a Barbarian to those you converse with. Words are the pled­ges and pictures of our thoughts (and [Page 210] next to Reason, speech is the main thing that distinguishes Societies of men from Herds of Beasts) and therefore they ought not to be ob­scure and⁽ⁱ⁾ obsolete, but such as are in daily use, the sense whereof is ob­vious to the narrowest capacity.^(k) An old out-dated word is to be shunn'd (says Caesar) as a rock; and where we have the liberty of a choise, ^(l) we are to take that which [Page 211] is least liable to misconstruction, that is, to be perverted to a praeposterous or filthy meaning. Nay, it is not decent to suggest to the imagination any thing that is obscene and foul; And although some excellent Poëts have not very acurately observed this, yet their authority is not to be reputed valid, nor any mans, when he wanders out of the paths of pru­dence and modesty. But to return: Your words must be plain and sig­nificant, and such as your own country commonly affordes, not out­worn, and tatter'd, nor^(m) boysterous and rampant, nor dark and mysteri­ous, nor doubtfull and⁽ⁿ⁾ equivocal; [Page 212] (of which sort^(o) riddles consist) but simple and proper, genuin and Na­tural, and, as near as we can, that may be accommodated to nothing else (like the Nightingales nest, which, they say, will fit no bird but her self) and that may without any difficulty be uncipher'd; for by this means things will appear in lively colours, and every one will readily apprehend your mind: so we say a Horse neighs, a Cow lowes, a Dog barks, a Sheep bleats, a Serpent [Page 213] hisses, and the like. And hence it follows, that none can conveniently talk with him who does not tolera­bly understand the language; and that notwithstanding a stranger may not have throughly learn'd our tongue, we are not to corrupt it in the least for his sake, by imitating his broken Dialect. Nor is it hand­some (unless there be an unavoidable necessity) to discourse in a^(p) for­rein language (as you may take no­tice several out of ostentation affect to do) for 'tis an incivility and re­proach to all in the company that are unskilful in it: And why in England at the Table (especially if there are none but English men) one that is able may not talk Greek or Hebrew [Page 214] as well as others doe French or Dutch, I for my own part acknow­ledge I cannot tell. In our common discourse certainly 'tis fittest to use our native language, though per­haps it be not of a very antient ex­traction, or sweet sound; and the reason is plain, because few can at­tain to speak a Tongue perfectly, except they suck it in with their milk.

Moreover it is requisite that every one who desires to be accounted a sober man should diligently refrain from all expressions that have any smuttiness or immodesty in them. Now the indecency of words is ei­ther in the sound, or the significa­tion. Some which are harmless enough in their meaning, have yet a kind of guiltiness in the very noise, and are apt to leave a tincture of [Page 215] filthiness upon the fancy; at which virtuous persons will blush and be concern'd, if they happen to slip from them unawares, and study af­terwards to substitute others in their room ^(q) That which is not fit to be practis'd, is not fit to be so much as mention'd; and therefore Ladies, and men of quality that would be thought to have good breeding, ought not only to abstein from foul actions, but from the appearance of them too; as the^(r) Historian tells the wife of Caesar, that she was ob­lig d not only to be chast, but to en­deavour to be free from all suspition.

And as you must avoid all words which carry impurity along with [Page 216] them, so likewise those which are vile and sordid. The Poët, in my judgment, was to blame to call a clear day, a^(s) day without dregs; neither does it sound well to style the Sun the Candle of the world, for it smells of the Kitchin; and it were happy if all dirty Riddles, and^* nasty Proverbs were quite banish'd out of all discourse.

'Tis also necessary that you shun harsh and severe language, and ac­custome your self to the most gentile and obliging terms;^† for example, [Page 217] 'tis better to say, Sir, I am sorry that I am not able to express this as the matter seems to require, than, You don't understand common sense: and, Let me consider with my self whether it be so or not, than bluntly to cry out, Sir you are mistaken; or, I am sure it is not as you say; or, I'le for­feit my reputation to infamy, and my life to justice if this be true; for you are not to presume to call anothers credit and honesty into question. 'Tis ingenuous rather to excuse, as far as you may, the miscarriages of your friends, as^(t) Cicero charg'd the [Page 218] follie of Democritus's opinions, not upon him, but upon his Countrey; and when you admonish and chide him (according to^(u) Plutarch's Counsel) ascribe the fault to your self as well as to him, though you are not equally guilty [Truly we have not done as became us; or, We forget our duty] for by this means you will gain his good opi­nion, and make him attentive, and your insinuations will become strong and prevalent. And if any one has not perform'd his promise with you, it is not handsome to set upon him rudely, and to tell him, Sir, You have not kept your word; You have not dealt honestly with me, unless extreme necessity forces you, and your own credit lies at stake, and can be redeem'd by no other course, [Page 219] for there's a sting and poison in such expressions; but, I suppose your oc­casions would not permit you to ac­complish what you ingaged; or the like.

Let me advise you not to pour out your words as fast as ever you can turn your Tongue to them, nor to clip them, or knock them out of joynt one against another, neither to suffer your Tongue to run before your wit, but to speak with due deliberation; and doe not begin till you have the shape and method of your matter form'd in your mind; so your dis­course will be legitimate, and intire in all its parts and proportions; not an abortive, or a deform'd issue; not full of mistakes, or interrupted with frequent immusical stops, neither will you be constrain'd to break off untowardly.

Take care to moderate your voice that it be not too flat, nor yet too sharp, so as to pierce or grate mens ears, nor intermix'd with and ob­structed by laughter. 'Tis true, we are not so far Masters of our selves, as at our pleasure to overpower an Infirmitie of Nature; but he that stammers, or lisps, or is hoarse, should do well to be perswaded not to prat­tle very much, but to cover his de­fect by silence, and study to amend it by Art and Caution. The famous Orator Demosthenes was not unsuc­cessfull in his attempt, nor the Em­perour Maximilian the First, who though slow of speech when he was a Child, afterwards prov'd an extraor­dinary Eloquent man.

'Tis uncomely to lift up your voice so high as if you were making a pro­clamation, or to depress it to so low [Page 221] a softness that you cannot be heard by attentive listening. And when you are desir'd to speak something lowder, you must not bawl, lest it be imagin'd that you are incens'd, and intend that clamour for a revenge. And be not exceeding solicitous about the placing of your words, but as they must not be loose & careless, intricate and involv'd, and shuffled together without all order, so nei­ther by any means are they to be set and starch'd; And let them not run muddy as though your thoughts were disturb'd, but be clear and gracefull.

Abstein from all Poëtical Phrases and pompous expressions in your familiar converse, for they become a solemn exercise more than a sudden intercourse; and it is as improper to use them in common talk, as it is to [Page 222] dance along the streets, or to wear long robes when you ride post. How absurdly would it sound, if you should call the^(w) Sun the Measurer of Time, or, the Lamp of the World; or the^(x) Moon the Queen of the starry Quire, or, the Heavenly Pha­ros; or, instead of saying, 'Tis Night, recite two or three Verses out of ^(y) Virgil? What's this, but to [Page 223] be a Pedantick fellow, and very gravely to play the Fool? Nor would I have you turn Clown, and talk in as rough and unhewn a Dia­lect as a Plough-man or a Porter; but let the matter of your discourse be grave and sober, and the words smooth and proper, and well put to­gether, and distinctly utter'd with a prudent respect to the persons, place, time, and occasion ^(z) (which particu­lars contein in them all the parts of Rhetorick) and every one will hearken to you with great eagerness and delight.

Many can never make an end of speaking; but as a ship when 'tis [Page 224] once driven by a strong wind, will not easily stop, though the sailes be taken down; so they continue their discourse, notwithstanding the sub­ject be quite spent, and either incul­cate the same things over and over, or else prate whatever comes next. Nay some have such an insatiable appetite of Tattling, that they can endure to hear no body but them­selves, and are prone at every turn to interrupt others, and as it were gree­dily to eat the words out of their mouths; as if they design'd to de­monstrate the truth of that Maxim of our modern Philosophers, That it is more against Nature, and conse­quently more difficult, to be at rest, than in perpetual motion. This in­civility sometimes breeds a quarrel; and no wonder, for nothing pro­vokes Anger sooner than^(a) to have [Page 225] an earnest desire frustrated, and to be stopt unawares in a full career. You are to be so far from commit­ting such rudeness, that if a man in the progress of his story chance to let fall an untruth, you are not in­stantly to correct it, or to upbraid him by word or gesture, by shaking your head, or winking with your eyes. Nor is it convenient, whilest another is speaking, that you should by shewing some rarity, or by any way cause the company to desert him, but be attentive your self, that you may never lose the discourse, and be forced to cry, I beseech you Sir how is that? What did you say? which is as troublesome to him that talks, as it is to cast a stone in his way who is walking apace, and to make him stumble. And if one be [Page 226] slow of speech, you ought not to pre­vent him, and supply his want, as if you were very rich and full, and he extremely poor and empty; for many take this ill (especially those that are conceited of their own knowledge) and he who understands least, for the most part, prattles fast­est. An empty vessel makes the greatest sound, and a Fool will utter his opinion first, and will^(b) hardly be perswaded to hold his peace. But (to omit the reasons produced be­fore) by this practise you prefer your own wit and elocution, and so become vile and intolerable.

And as immoderate talking ex­poses to contempt and scorn, so a pro­found silence is not alwaies wise and gratefull; for when men are oblig'd [Page 227] to speak by turns, 'tis just as if one should refuse to pay his shot at an ordinary, and expect to subsist on the^(c) Common stock. And since to speak is to open your mind to ano­ther, he that constantly holds his Tongue seems to desire to be un­known. In short,^(d) If you are con­scious to your self of unskilfulness in the argument, you do prudently; but if you have ground to presume that you understand it, it is both unsociableness and indiscretion.

CHAP. IX. Of neatness and elegancy of Manners, what it is, and wherein it consists.

IT must be acknowledg'd, that it is an easier matter to prescribe Rules for the regulating of others, than to conform to them punctually our selves; and that some are made of such^(e) soft clay, that they are pliable to be wrought into what shape you please; but then (if I mi­stake not) there is no man so rough-cast but he may be polisht, none so brutish but he may in time by use and exercise be mollified. And that this may be prosperously effected, 'tis ^(f) [Page 229] the best course to begin betimes, and instill precepts of virtue and good manners into them in their tender years, before vice, and folly, and evil customes have taken firm pos­session of their minds; for then you may correct their luxuriances with a pruning knife, which if they are per­mitted to thrive, you will not be able afterwards to hew down with an Axe. 'Tis ominous to stumble at the threshold, and ill building upon a Quagmire. A modest and orderly setting forth gives good hopes of the like progress, as the Contrary is a foul prefage of an unlucky demea­nour all the life long. We see it verified every day,^(g) That Young [Page 230] men when they are once died in plea­sure and vanity will scarcely take any other colour. Leonides, Schoolmaster to Alexander, infected his youth with some vices, which grew up with him and tyranniz'd over him when he was a King, and pursued him to his grave. And it was usually said of a King of France, That you must be wary what you put into him, for all the world cannot get it out again. ^(h) Let this Truth be confessed and remain for ever, That they who are well instructed, easily become good men: But then such as have De­bauchery for their Tutor, and permit themselves in their younger age to be drawn aside by lewd examples, & the importunate allurements of lust [Page 231] and Idleness, seldome return into the right path; nay (though it is most natural for man to obey reason, the ⁽ⁱ⁾ Law implanted in his essence) at length they mistake the sensitive appetite for their Nature Right reason, no question, can reform the most Profligate and barbarous man­ners, and lift up Nature when 'tis down, and direct us how to behave our selves in all the Instances and Relations of our life; but generally its dictates are not heeded, for the beast is set up to Lord it over the man; and^(k) the true cause why the hopes of excellent things wither away, is not any defect of Nature, but of care, and industry, and consi­deration. [Page 232] A wild desert may be con­verted in to a fertile soile by cultiva­tion and good-husbandry; and Hor­ses, and Dogs, and the fiercest savage creatures be tamed and made servi­ceable by humane skill and assue­faction; and surely we are not more indocible than they. But our senses are perfidious and betray us; we love and desire the present pleasure, be it never so pernicious, and will suck the hony though we are stung to death; and refuse to bear a light trouble, notwithstanding that it will produce a lasting benefit and satis­faction. I have heard of some Great men, who openly profess that they will be guided by no rule but their humour, and will follow their incli­nations whithersoever they will lead them: But I beleive an Ass or a Swine, could they speak, would not say any thing so ridiculous and abo­minable. [Page 233] ^(l) 'Tis reason that distin­guisheth us from Beasts, and bridles our Senses and extravagant appe­tites; and if we trangress, the er­rour is not to be imputed to our Na­ture, or innocent constitutions, but to our own obstinacie and perversness: For (though a^(m) Mercury cannot be shaped out of every knotty piece of wood; yet) Reason and Custome can transform a sloven and a Clown into a neat well-manner'd person; one action is an introduction to a second, and that to a third, and then comes frequencie, and afterwards pleasure, and that begets a habit, and Custome has in it a moral efficacie to render a thing sweet and easy.

And now to return to my pur­pose, [Page 234] and put an end to this small treatise) take the summ of all in few words, Those manners, and beha­viours are comely and amiable which gratifie the senses, or, at least, do not trouble any of them, neither are re­pugnant to the humours, fancies, and desires of them with whom we con­verse. Men are generally pleas'd with beauty: ('tis a dumb but power­ful Orator that allures ⁽ⁿ⁾ silently, and steales away the heart) and all abhor those things which are monstrous and deform'd. This is a privilege belonging peculiarly to us, & there­fore we ought to esteem it accor­dingly: other creatures don't under­stand what handsomness means; and the more acute men are, the more capable to consider and judge [Page 235] of it; and 'tis remarkable, That the most Learned persons are com­monly the greatest admirers, and the most passionate doters on it. 'Tis difficult to draw it in its just linea­ments and features, and to define precisely wherein it consists, but I shall undertake to describe it by such infallible marks that you can­not chuse but know it wheresoever you meet it.^(o) 'Tis a pleasing co­lour [Page 236] and gracefulness arising from a suteable proportion and agreeableness of the parts amongst themselves, and with the whole. And to the consti­tution of it, 'tis tequisite^(p) that all the members be intire, but ugliness proceeds from any one defect. And you will meet with some, whose parts taken asunder are pretty enough, but set together make up a very ill face, and look as if they had been borrowed from several persons. And perhaps^(q) Zeuxis desir'd to see five Calabrian Virgins naked only that he might delineate a per­fect [Page 273] Beauty, and that collecting from every one what was most emi­nent, he might out of all draw a Complete Helen. And the same holds good likewise in discourse and actions; you are to take care that Time, and Place, and Things, and Persons, and all Circumstances greet kindly; for^(r) it is not sufficient that a business be done well, unless it be done neatly too. As meat if it be never so wholesome, does not please, except it has savoury sauce; so mens manners, though they may not be hurtfull and injurious, yet are not delightfull, if they want ingenuity and sweetness to set them off. All vices are impartially to be abando­ned, because they are unseemly and troublesome; Gluttony and drun­kenness are vile and beastly; wan­tonness [Page 238] and lust, foul and ugly; and, in general, All unlawfull filthy pra­ctises are ungentile, and render men odious and contemptible. But I must remember that I am not at present to treat concerning notorious enor­mities, but of lighter indecencies. Study to be gracefull in all your actions and postures, in eating and drinking, in walking and standing still, in your miene and in your garb, when you talk and when you hold your peace, when you are busy and when you are at leisure. A man must not wear his hair or dress his body like a woman, because there will be an incongruity betwixt the habit and the person; And you ought to be carefull that no^(s) unsavory rank smell come from you, and if you be [Page 239] now and then perfum'd, 'twill not be amiss. And 'tis fit your garments be suteable to your age, place, and quality. ^(t) Castrucius did ill when (appearing with great glory and triumph with^(u) Lewis the Empe­rour at Rome, and desiring to shew his splendor and magnificence to the whole City) he caus'd to be made [Page 240] for him a purple robe, and on the forepart this Motto to be embroi­der'd in golden letters [UT DEUS VULT ITA EST, 'Tis as God plea­ses] and on the back this [ET UT DEUS VULT ITA ERIT, and It shall be as God pleases] for, in my opinion, it would have better be­seem'd his Trumpeter than himself. And although Kings are tied up to no Rules, yet I cannot commend Prince ^(w) Manfred for going al­waies in green clothes.

^(x) It is not comely to run along [Page 241] the streets, or to make so much haste that you pant, and blow, and sweat, for that belongs to a foot-man, not to Gentile persons; Neither let your pace be slow like a snails, nor lofty and affected, nor soft and effeminate, but compos'd and modest. 'Tis un­seemly to hobble as you walk, and to fling out your legs, and to stretch your self by wide steps, to hang down your hands, or to throw them about as if you were sowing corn. You will see some tread tenderly, like a founder'd horse, and lift up their feet as high as if they were alwaies stepping over a threshold, and others stamp so hard that you would think [Page 242] a whole teem were coming, one goes as if he intended to kick you at every turn, a second cuts, and strikes his ancles one against t'other, and a third ever and anon stoops down to tie or wipe his shooes; all which are not indeed errors of great moment, but yet unhandsome and to be re­form'd. If a Horse be lusty and strong, and withall ill-shap'd, he can't be sold for much mony; and^(y) in things that have neither sense nor life neatness in valued (as an uni­form [Page 243] House is more esteem'd than one that is only well-built.)

'Tis uncivil when you are discour­sing to fix your eyes stedfastly upon a man, as if you meant to put him out of countenance, and to trample upon his modesty; and slovenly when you are at the Table to scratch any part of your body. You must refrain from spitting as much as you can, and when you are able to hold no longer, do it after a decent man­ner. The Persians (as^(z) Xenophon relates) were so temperate in their diet, and so frequent in exercise, that they seldome had occasion to void any Phlegm at all, by the mouth or Nose; And why can't we contein for a little time? Beware likewise of eating so greedily that you are con­strain'd [Page 244] to^(a) belch, or make any other rude noise, and of rubbing your teeth with you napkin, and picking them with your fingers. And in the sight of others (especially if they are your betters) don't wash your mouth; or if you do, spirt not out the wine or water before them.

And when the cloth is taken away it is not decent to pull a case of Tooth­picks out of your pocket, as if Jug­ler-like you were about to shew Le­gerdemain tricks; for this not only offends the sight, but likewise ar­gues that you study your belly, and are exceeding carefull to be well-furnish'd with all instruments fit to serve your Appetite. Nor is it comely by any sign or gesture to ex­press [Page 245] an extraordinary satisfaction in your meat and drink; to wish that you had a Cranes neck, or to hold up the glass and view how briskly the wine looks, or like the Dutchmen, to sip, and smack, and tast every drop, though the liquor, for the most part, be as flat and insipid as themselves; for this is a custome befits none but Vintners, and Para­sites, and Voluptuous Epicures. It seems to me not laudable to invite and urge your Guests to eat, in such language as this; What? Have you not broke your fast this morning? I am sorry here's nothing pleases you; I pray tast of this dish; for although you testifie your care of them, yet sometimes you put them to the blush, and intrench upon their liberty. Nor is it convenient to be forward to carve for another, unless he be of in­ferior rank, or sits at a great distance, [Page 246] and so it may be esteem'd a favour, because by it yon prefer your self before him, and it may be what you give him he will not like. But I shall not be peremptory in prescri­bing rules for your direction; for what is commonly done is more ex­pedient than that which in my appre­hension ought to be, and in things of this kind 'tis better to erre with a multitude than to be exactly neat alone. However don't you refuse what any one offers, because 'twill be thought you reprove or slight him. To drink to others, and ear­nestly to solicit them to pledge you in large bowles, is a brutish and most execrable rudeness; yet if you chance to be importun'd, kiss the cup, and excuse your self civilly, and be willing without contest to yeild the victory. 'Tis confess'd this barba­rous custome was antiently practis'd [Page 247] in^(b) Greece; and^(c) Socrates was highly applauded that notwithstand­ing he carous'd a whole night with Aristophanes, he was able in the mor­ning to draw a Mathematical Scheme, and without any haesitation to de­monstrate a subtil and difficult Pro­blem in Geometrie, whereby he made it evident that the wine had not mov'd him, or done him the least harm; and we read of him, that when he was at a feast he would conquer every one, and yet was never known to be drunk in his whole life; [Page 248] And some are of opinion that as they who are in great danger of being kill'd become couragious, so those that addict themselves to lewd practises, when once they are brought to understand the perfect unreasonableness and folly of them, become extremely sober and vir­tuous; and they imagine that by excessive drinking a man may trie his strength and power to resist more violent assaults. But in despite of the most plausible pretensions that can be brought, I must take leave to be of a contrary judgment, and tell you that it is not safe to make the experiment, and that these arguments are vain and fri­volous, and such as deserve no reply, because they sufficiently con­fute themselves. Some famous wits to shew their dexterity and acuteness undertake to handle [Page 249] ^(d) absurd subjects, and dress up de­formity and madness in the guise of beauty and Reason; and though we don't believe what they say, yet we know not well how to contradict it. Thus Phavorinus the Philosopher cried up Thersites for a handsome man, and wrote a Volume in praise of a quartan Ague; Carneades and Galba commended injustice, and Hor­tentius disprais'd Philosophy; Syne­sius extol'd baldness, and^(e) Marcus Antonius and Gerard Bucoldianus Vomited out a large Apologie for Drunkenness. It may be they ex­cus'd [Page 250] those who were guilty of this crime, and endeavour'd to cover their blemishes, because they durst not reprehend them, lest they should incurr Socrates's fate, who for being frequent in reproving others was by the malice of some Debauchees (which is the case of many good men) accus'd of impiety and several hei­nous offences, and put to death as a notorious Criminal. ^(f) He was cer­tainly an honest man, and a most pun­ctual observer of the Religion and Rites of his^(g) Country, though in­deed he deserv'd correction for drin­king so much with that merry Poet, (and^(h) the severe Cato is charg'd [Page 251] with the same vice) notwithstand­ing that he was not distemper'd; for that he receiv'd no injury by it, is to be imputed, not to his tempe­rance, but the strength of his brain; and a Hogs-head is more capacious than any man; and our life ought not be checker'd with black and white, with innocence & profaneness; but (as⁽ⁱ⁾ he himself us'd to say) it should represent a picture or statue, all the parts of which must be fair and correspondent. Nor can I believe that sobriety or any good can be lear­ned from such Masters as^(k) Wine and Dissoluteness. But this is to be accounted as spoken in a Parenthesis [Page 252] and by chance, rather than that the method of my discourse required it.

Let none put off his Clothes, or dress himself in the sight of stran­ger; nor comb his Head, nor pare his nailes, nor cleanse his eares, nor so much as wash his hands (except it be immediately before or after meales) in the view of others; for the Chamber is the most proper place for such actions; nor shall you come out to salute persons of quality in your Night-attire. 'Tis an ugly thing to draw your mouth awry, and roll your eyes, & distend your cheekes, and deform your countenance. Pallas (asPrima terrebr [...]to per rara foramina buxo Ut daret, effeci tibia longa sonos. Vox placuit, faciem liquid is referentibus undis Vidi, & virg neas intumuisse genas. A [...]s mihi non tanti est, valeas mea tibia, dixi Ex [...] pit abjectam cesp [...]teri [...]a suo. Ovid Lib. 6. Fastorum. Hic locus [...]st in quo tibia docta sones: Quae non jure vado Maeandri [...]acta natasti, [...]rpia cum faceret Pallad isora tumor. Propert. Lib. 2. [...]. Telestes Selinusius quem Josephus Scal. citat in castigationibus suis Propertianis. Vide etiam Agell. Lib. 15. cap. 17. Et Plutarch lib. [...]. Poets and other writers tell [Page 253] us) was hugely delighted in playing upon a pipe, till coming to a foun­tain she perceiv'd it made her have a monstrous mishapen mouth, and then she blush d, and threw it away. This instrument does not become women, nor men, unless they be forced to ex­ercise their skill merely to get a Livelihood. ^(m) Alcibiades who ap­plied [Page 254] his mind to learn all Arts, reckon'd this below an ingenuous well-bred person; A Harp takes not away the figure and comeliness, but a⁽ⁿ⁾ Pipe swells a mans face, that his familiar Friends can hardly know him; besides, one may sing to an Harp, but a Pipe stops up the Mouth, and obstructs the voice; and there­fore, said he, to play upon it is fit only for the Baeotian boyes, who cannot be taught to speak, we of Athens will follow the example of Minerva who cast away hers, and of Apollo who caus'd the Piper Mar­syas's skin to be pull'd over his ears And hence it came to pass that the Athenians utterly banish'd this facul­ty out of the circle of the Liberal sciences.

And what has been said concern­ing the face, holds true also of all the parts and Members of the Body; 'Tis unseemly to blare out your Tongue, & to rub & clap your hands, and to laugh at the wagging of a feather, and to twist your beard, and to stretch your body and make a strange noise as though you wanted sleep, and to fetch deep sighs for no­thing as if your very heart would break.

Take special what gestures and motions you use in talking, for 'tis obvious to remark that most men are so intent that they don't consider this; but one nods phanta­stically with his head, and another looks asquint, and a third^(o) fixes [Page 256] his Eyes upon the ground, and a fourth pulls his mouth on one side, and (as^(p) Cicero affirms of Marcus Piso) renders his visage more ridicu­lous than his Jests, and a fifth wrin­kles up his chin, and looks like^(q) Testius Pinarius, whom Caesar desir'd to tell him what he had to say when he had crack'd his nut. Some throw their hands about as if they were flapping away flies, and others cough and spit in your Face: And [Page 257] all these are very unhandsome mis­behaviours. 'Tis the saying of^(r) Pindar, That whatsoever is elegant, fine, and pleasant, is done by the hands of Venus and the Graces; what then shall we think of those that spit upon their fingers, and lay their legs upon a Table, and commit an hundred other indeceneies which might here easily be recited? But I shall not go about to collect all into one Volume (as Chrysippus did the Lies of the oracle of Apollo) lest they should swell to too big a bulk, and appear beyond our skill and industry to reform. All I intend to super-adde shall be [Page 258] couch'd in two words.^(s) Be not loose in your deportment, nor yet severe, neither all hony, nor all gall, but let affabilitie and Gravity be sweetly temper'd and mixt together.