HOW, Tim, not hang'd your self yet?

In my opinion, Bristol is a very pr [...]tty Town.

Surely thou wert at cross pur­poses last night: what has Bristol to do with hanging?

The most that can be, Sir. [Page 2] And I wonder, of all men, that you should no [...] perceive it. 'Tis a train, Sir; and as plain beaten road, as from St. Albans [...]o Barnet, or from St. Andrew to Tumult.

Wh [...], is there such a Town, any where upon the road, as Tu­mult?

A very [...]amous one, in the fourth Chapter of your Humane Na­ture: and according to the account you [...]here give of it, 'tis nothing near an hours riding from St. Andrew thi­ther. For, the mind being mounted at St. Andrew, starts thence and runs to St. Peter, because in the same Gos­pel, their names are read together. Having got to St. Peter, it makes forth­with for stone, for the same reason; from stone it goes to foundation, be­cause they are seen together; and then from foundation it switches away pre­sently to Church, and from Church to people, and from people to Tumult.

All this is very natural and Coherent, the passage being smooth and easie: but how shall we get from [Page 3] Hanging to Bristol? I doubt that is a kind of a cross road, Tim; is it not?

I must confess, there's one place a little hard to hit: but from Bristol to Hanging, 'tis impossible to miss. For, the mind getting up at Bristol, away presently it rides for Flintshire, from Flintshire it goes to Hamshire, and so to Hempshire, Rope­shire, Pippin.

Pippin? whereabouts are we now? what have we to do with Pippin?

This Pippin, Sir, was he, to whom Alderman Cooper the great Turkie Merchant was so nearly re­lated.

How dost mean? what, did this Cooper marry one of Pippins Daughters?

No, Sir: he was of the whole blood upon my word: for he was only Son of Mr. Hooper, who came from a Greekish kind of Man, one Hoper, and he from Dioper, and he again from Diaper; and then it runs [Page 4] alone, to Pippin. Alas! Thought is very swift, and set but the mind once agog, and how it whews it away.

I shall not come to you to learn how swi [...]t Thoughts are: nor yet how that they are all necessary.

No: if you do, you'l loose your journey, for I know no such thing.

What don't you know? don't you know, that there is a necessary coherence and order, a fatal and ir­resistible occasion, a drift, a clue and Chain of all thoughts?

Not, in the least; not I.

Then thou knowest nothing belonging to the Brain; nor didst thou ever take into consideration my principle of motion.

I have tasted, Sir, of a Calfs head and Bacon; and I was in the great wind: and yet I humbly con­ceive, that though a Mans legs be tyed never so fast; and his mouth stitch'd up never so close, he may, notwithstanding that, pay it away with thinking, if he be but in the [Page 5] right queu. When the Purse is empty, and the Pha [...]sie low, then indeed the mind usually is very modest and go­vernable; and goes only to leap­Frog, and skips perhaps from Cooper to Pippin, or [...]rom St. Andrew to Tu­mult. But let the mans belly and pockets be but once refresh'd, and then presently he is Cock-a-hoop, then he takes Hedg and Ditch, Church and Steeple; and struts and straddles like the great Colossus at Rhodes. Now, methinks, I am just in the very middle of Smyrna: Now I am at As in praesenti: Now I am for a Dish of Cucumbers and Mustard: and, after all this, nothing will sa­tisfie me but Adam and Eve, and the North Wind. Hey day! how I can range sometimes, and make the whole World to spring, and flutter before me.

This now, I perceive, is in­tended for frolick, and phansie: but, that thou maist see, Tim, that thou hast no hopes of ever having the cre­dit of being distracted; I shall shew [Page 6] thee, that in this great flight that thou hast made, and these great jumps, that thou hast taken, there's nothing else but meer train and drift: and thou hast as absolutely crept on from hint to hint, and motive to motive, as ever Child did, that lean'd upon its Mothers Apron-strings. And in the first place as for Smyrna, I take it for granted that it was an una­voidable thought.

Do you so? then you must take it all alone: for you are not likely to have my Company.

Why, has not the word Smyrna by some means or other been formerly impuls'd upon you? Surely you will not say that you just now made it.

No truly, I did not make it: but, if you have occasion for them, I can make you a thousand words presently, that neither you, nor I ever heard of before.

What, neither in part nor whole? I hope you'l make them of some syllables you have heard of, or at least of some Letters.

Ps [...]aw! pshaw! that's a meer phansie o [...] yours: wee'l make them of a Turkie Tammy, or a Calamanco. Make words of Letters! they are dull and old fashion'd words that ar [...] made so. Give me a word, that has neither beginning nor ending, Vow­el, nor Consonant, that is neither to be spoken, heard, nor understood.

Come, come: for all your fooling, you had some one consider­able reason or other why you nam'd Smyrna.

Some one, Sir! I had a dozen at least.

Then no man can say but you had reasons enow.

But I had as many, Sir, full out for Aleppo.

Perhaps so, but then they wer [...] not altogether so big.

Yes but they were, and big­ger too. There was the tenth reason, that was as big as the great Turnep King James gave the Scotchman. O Aleppo! how infinitely am I taken with Aleppo!

That's true, you may be much taken with the place now, but you car'd little for it before.

O Sir, for many years toge­ther I have been so horribly inflam'd with the thoughts of it, that if you do not a little divert me, and let me know how I got from Smyrna to As in praesenti, I shall immediately swoon.

Although thy ignorance shew thy education to have been but very small: yet I suppose thou mightst travel so far into the Grammar, as to be acquainted with As in prae­senti.

Yes, Sir, I know As in prae­senti very well: but I don't remem­ber that ever I met As in praesenti riding behind Smyrna to Market.

That may be, simpleton! but you met, in the beginning of Propria quae maribus, with the Island call'd Cyprus: and every body knows that Cyprus is no such huge way from Smyrna.

'Tis very right I profess— [Page 9] ceu Creta Britannia Cyprus. O, what a happiness it is, to have had the op­portunity of prying into the little intrigues, and starting holes of the mind! and to be well acquainted with all the little Lanes and by-paths of thinking! But I pray, Sir, how came Cucumbers and Mustard into such an intimacy with As in prae­senti?

'Lack a day! they are old Camerades. For the very last side but one in Quae Genus, (which you know is next to As in praesenti) there you learnt Scelerata sinapis, and cu­cumis cucumer.

I durst swear upon Lilly, 'tis just so. And that this same thought of Mustard and Cucumbers came only from the sediments and relicts of an old twang I got at School. But how, Sir, came the Cucumbers to out-run the Mustard; for they are otherwise placed in the Grammar?

That is because some time or other you have seen Mutton and Cu­cumbers to be succeeded by Beef and Mustard.

Yes, Sir, that I have once, or so: but I don't remember that ever I saw Adam and Eve and the North-wind succeeded after any such manner. How shall we train in these, Sir?

O most easily. For Adam and Eve were the occasion of all thoughts: for from them were descended all thinking Creatures. But besides, 'tis possible that at some time or other (for no man can remem [...]er every thing that has happen'd in his whole life) you might meet a Woman cry­ing Cucumbers; and thereupon look­ing up, you spy'd the sig [...] of Adam and Eve.

But 'tis five to one, Sir, whe­ther the North-wind was written up­on the sign.

That's true: but 'tis not so many to one, but that the Wind might then be in the North, Tim. And if so, there's sufficient [...]son for them to lig together in the Brain, and afterwards to spring forth. Alas! Tim, the [...]e is not one of a thou­sand [Page 11] that is able to discern how strangely things are chain'd together. It being a plain cas [...] that people ge­nerally spend their time in gazing and staring at the whole lump of se­cond causes; and never mind the de­licate wreathings and twistings of motion.

Indeed, Sir, I am afraid that people are somewhat careless: in my mind they ought to be chidden.

Chidden? they ought to be kick'd out of the World for dun­cery. I tell thee, Tim, I was, I re­member, one day (in the late trouble­some times) at a place where we sell into discourse of the Civil War. In the midst of which up starts one (as seem­ingly attentive as any of the rest) and asks, what was the value of a Roman penny. The old fops and boyes, that crowded close to see and admire me, and to get some reputation from being in my Company; thought the man ut­terly distracted, or (as Theolog [...]es use to say upon such occasions) inspired. But to me, who knew how to drive a [Page 12] thought to the spring head, the cohe­rence and train of the question was as manifest as could be. For the thought of the War introducing the thought of the Scots selling the King, and the thought of that, the thought of Judas betraying of Christ; and he being sold for thirty pence, I need not say any more.

Not a word, Sir, and 'twas well for the poor Gentleman, Philau­tus, that you were so nigh at hand; or else, by chance, he might have gone to Bedlam, for want of a Train­er. But suppose, Sir, instead of the Roman penny, he had asked what was the reason that Ginger is spelt with a G, and Jeopardy with an J. Must he needs have gone for't: could not you have dropt down a little soder, and relief upon such an un­fortunate extravagancy?

What's that to you Goodman-two-shoes: am I bound to acquaint you with all that I can do?

Nay, I hope no offence, Sir: for I am confident you that have such [Page 13] excellent skill at putting a thought off the squat, could have easily don't: for the phantasm of War introducing the phantasm of powder, this powder presently breaks forth into bullets: again those bullets pig and bring forth hail shot: and in the twincling of an eye, hail▪shot begets Pepper: and that Pepper that can't beget Ginger, ought to be flung into the streets.

But hold Tim; who▪shall help us to the phantasm of Jeopardy? dost keep a Journey-man to do that for thee? I prethee why not Ginger and Justice, or Ginger and Jeremiah, as well as Ginger and Jeopardy?

Nay softly there, Philautus; you would fain draw me into a Land-story. The business of Ginger and Jeopardy is as famous as the ▪three blew beans in [...] blew bladder.

Then you may keep your story to your self: I am sure it can't any ways weaken my opinion, let it be what it will: for as I said before, so say I again, that 'tis perfectly im­possible for any man in the World, [Page 14] either to devise a new thought, or so much as to choose the order of any old one.

I have now in my mind, Phi­lautus, a spick and span new thought, so fine and so pretty—

What, that no body ever thought of before? I pr [...]thee let's hear it.

No, but you shan't: for you can't hear it, unless I speak; and if I speak, I shall go nigh to open my mouth: and then you'l presently say, that some body have open'd their mouths just so before now; either in whole, or in part; and so I shall be chous'd out of the novelty of my thought. No, no, Sir: I must beg your pardon as to that: but if you have any other kind of reason to be­stow upon me, why a man may not think over his old thoughts in what order he pleases, besides such as King Pippin, Tumult and the Roman penny, I shall count my self very much be­holding to you.

What an impertinent thing is [Page 15] this to look about for reason, in a case that need not at all to be rea­son'd? does not what men practise and daily experience teach thee, how naturally the mind flies from one thing to another: even as a Hawk flies after a Patridge? and have not I in the thirty third page of my Hu­mane nature plainly shewn thee, that when the thought of honourable is by some occasion or other sprung in a man, how the mind presently takes Wing, and flies to the thought of being wise, which is the next means thereunto: and from thence to the thought of study, which is the next means to wisdom: and have not I besides there told thee, that the necessity of this order depends upon this great truth, that he that has a concep­tion of an end and has an appetite thereunto; the next conception he has, is a conception of the next means to that end.

A most vast and stately truth indeed! and therefore certainly that Gentlemans brains lay very odly, who, being sent for to a dying friend, bad [Page 16] his man to saddle him presently the Chess-board, and give the Warming­pan half a peck of Oats.

This is a mere flam of your own devising: there never was any man in the World in his Wits, who thought after this extravagant rate.

This way you'l be too hard for me indeed. For if I take a little pains to make a new thought, you pre­sently cry out ware A [...]phabet! and when I appeal to History and matter of Record, then my men prove all mad.

I say you and your men are every one of you mad; if you look upon this way of thinking to be com­mon or natural.

I know, as well as you, that 'tis not altogether modish: and therefore if at any time the thought of hunger stirs within me, and struggles so hard as to pull in Victuals; I don't call for a Flail or the Snuffers to cut my meat; but for t' other instrument: and if I have occasion to be trim'd, I seldom send for the Brick-layer, be­cause [Page 17] I have more frequently observ'd the fall of beards to succeed the per­formances of another sort of Opera­tors.

And therefore you plainly see that people eat, live, talk, and do all meerly by train of thoughts. And as the water followeth a mans finger upon a dry and level Table: so every con­ception is guided and necessarily drawn in, by something that went before.

I grant you, Philautus, that Victuals draws out the knife out of the sheath, as naturally as the finger, &c. but it will not fetch in the flail out of the Barn altogether so well▪

Yes, if there be a Pudding upon the Table.

But it shan't be Pudding-day: wee'l have nothing but a Haunch of Venison. I durst not say Beef. For that would have taken fire presently; and ran like a great Gun backward. Flail, Corn, Pudding, Beef.

Why, Venison is flesh as well as Beef.

There you are cunning to [Page 18] some purpose: for if I had only said, that we had a small device, or a thingam for Dinner; you would easily have brought in your Flail. For all substances are Cosen-Ger­mans.

So they are: for the whole World is only a vast, vast Family: and though by reason of the multi­tude of relations, we don't presently perceive how the Kindred comes in: Yet there always is and must be some necessary alliance.

That same must be I like mainly well: because 'twill indiffe­rently serve for any elevation of the Pole. For, suppose a Gentleman comes into his Inn, and finding his stomach mawkish, desires only a boyl'd Cushion and Apple-sawce for his Supper; and my Landlord calls for [...]ippin or Tu­mult to speak in the Globe; and nei­ther of them will answer: 'tis no matter for that, for if they won't somebody else must: every thought coming from imagination, and ima­gination from sense, and sense from [Page 19] motion, and therefore it must be so, so or so.

It seems by this, Tim, as if 'twere thy opinion that all thoughts were meerly casual or indifferent.

You must ghess again, Sir: for though I believe no thought to be necessary; yet 'tis plain that there is not one of a hundred of which, for the most part, there is not some oc­casion offered. For Children at School are very well aware of your train of thoughts; (only they don't know the phrase) counting it not modest nor civil to tell a Passenger a story of eo and queo, when he gives them occasion to tell him the hour of the day.

I prethee, Tim, don't trouble me with a [...]y of thy Childrens sto­ries: but if thou hast a mind to un­derstand wherein the whole cheat of this same freedom of thinking consists, 'tis in short thus. There are, thou knowest, several senses belonging to a man; which senses seldom lie long fallow; but are constantly busy'd [Page 20] and knock'd upon by this outward World: so that these knockings sav'd all together, and treasur'd up in the brain, in twenty years time, suppose, will amount to a vast bank of motion: hence now it comes about, that a man may easily be de­ceiv'd, and oft-times seem to think Voluntier, when as he only filtches out of the common stock.

This same seeming only to think freely does not at all please me: for a man, notwithstanding that, is still as very a Jimcrack as a Far­thing-whistle; only he's a little more copious. And an ability to think of ten thousand thousand several things, if stinted to a certain order, is no­thing else but a wilder kind of ne­cessity. And thereupon it was that the late Philosopher who took great pains in making Bruits to be meer Engines; was never so idle or mad, as to make man to be such a kind of tool.

He might e'en have gone on with the work, for any thing I see to the contrary.

No, Sir: he knew how to spend his time better. For he per­ceiv'd that though an engine might possibly be contriv'd not only to walk up and down, but also to pro­nounce several words very distinctly, and to call knave if touch'd in one place, and in another to be your humble servant: nay, suppose you bestow upon it such breeding, as it becomes able at last to recite word for word every Verse in Virgil: yet take this same engine and stroak it, and cokes it, and promise it a Vio­let▪Comfit, tell it the Emperour is to dine with you that day, and there­fore it must needs do some extraor­dinary feat; for all this you can't get this sullen thing to say so much; as Patulae tu Tityre.

Perhaps so: but what's the reason, Tim?

I know none but only this; that make what you will of meer matter; and put in never so many Wheels and Pullies: and instruct it in all the Language [...] of Europe, and [Page 22] ▪twill still be but a chip of the old block, and 'twill go but just the rounds, and never take forth of its own accord, nor skip up your lap, and kiss you, when you had tun'd it to say the first Ode of Horace.

I grant you that Man has very much the advantage of all other Creatures; because he alone is capa­ble of speech, and thereby of com­paring and reasoning.

Now, don't I believe one word of all this.

What, Tim, dost deny by whole sale?

In the first place I do say that 'tis not speech, or the uttering of words that does at all make a man; but the understanding those words he utters, and the applying the same aptly. For suppose you go to your Cage, and ask your Pye, how do you do this Morning? and the Pye an­swers, how do YOU do this Morn­ing? now if you can but teach the Pye to lay the accent strong enough upon that same YOU which she pro­nounces, [Page 23] 'tis then plain reparty, and the Pye shall presently put in for a place at Court. And as speech alone will never amount to reasoning; so by your good leave, Philautus, there may be reasoning without speech: that is, there may be demonstrative inferring or concluding without the use of words. For I don't imagine reasoning to consist in gaping or hol­lowing, but in perceiving the neces­sity of the effect from its causes; which deaf and dumb people by ma­ny instances certainly do, as well as the lowdest disputant in the Schools. But of these things, Philautus, you and I may have further occasion to discourse, before we part. And therefore if you have ever another Roman penny about you, I pray let's have it.

No, Tim, I know what to do with my money and notions better, than to fling them away upon such an ungrateful wretch as thou art. This same train or necessity of all humane thoughts is a great secret, and [Page 24] too deep, I perceive, for thy appre­hension. Perhaps thou maist have better luck at understanding the ne­cessity of all humane actions: and therefore if thou hast a mind to it; wee'l have a small brush about Free­will: for my part I have not much to say: being most of it compriz'd in that little despicable piece of mine, call'd Liberty and Necessity. 'Tis a very small thing, Tim, and one of thy confidence and prowess may eat it up at a mouth-ful.

Yes, Sir, 'tis very small: but somebody has put such a dreadful Preface to't, as would go nigh to give a Giant his Breakfast. ‘Rea­der, says that same some-body, take this little Book of Liberty and Ne­cessity: pull off thy glove, and take it I say into thy right hand, and let not the smallness thereof, make it seem contemptible to thee, for 'tis every bit Diamond and Oaks heart, for (besides a new passage into the East-Indies, and the bowells of the number of the Apocalyptical Beast) [Page 25] there's work enough for many thousand Sermons and Exercises: and there's that which is much better than the Catechisms and Confessions of a thousand Assem­blies: and that which will cast an eternal blemish upon all the corn­er'd Caps of the Priests and Jesuits, and upon all the black and white Caps of the Ministers. I know not, Reader, what profession, perswasi­on, opinion, or Church thou art of: but be of what thou wilt, if thou intendest to be sav'd, buy and stu­dy this little Book. In comparison of which, all the Sermons, Teach­ings, Preachings, Meetings, Dispu­tations, Conferences and Printed Books are good for nothing, but only to divert the duller sort of Citizens. Perhaps, thou maist have a mind to be prying into the great mysteries of Predestination, Elec­tion, Freewill, Grace, Merits, Re­probation, &c. if so, take my ad­vice for once, and never go to any Black-Court again; for generally [Page 26] they are a Company of ignorant Tinkers, that pretend to mending and sodering of mens Consciences, and for the most part they make more holes than they find: but go thou me to this little, little Book of Liberty and Necessity; (not written by a dull Tinkering Theologue, but by a severe student of the Mathe­maticks) and there thou shalt find more evidence and conviction, and more means of humane salvation, than in all the Volumes and Libra­ries, and all the Controversial La­bours, and Polemical Treatises that were ever Printed.’ Now, Sir, is not this very thundering and dis­maying? Do you think any body will venture, when you scare peo­ple thus.

Who scare people? You can't say that I writ that Preface, can you?

No: But when I find therein that same ratling story (which was before in your Preface de Cive) of Ixion's clasping a Cloud instead of Ju­no, [Page 27] and of the Centaures and Herma­phrodite opinions that were produc'd by that unnatural coition; and compare therewith your being so notoriously given to print over and over such elegant flourishes: and when I consi­der besides, how chargeable 'twould be to procure one to [...]eign such com­mendations, as you, upon all occasi­ons, so easily and naturally trundle in upon your self, I cannot but say, that I am somewhat afraid, that—

Afraid? of what I prethee? thou knowest well enough there was a Metaphysical Bishop that ventur'd to meddle; and I don't question but thou art as fool-hardy as any Bishop, Primate, or Metropolitan of them all.

But you remember, Sir, what a woful example you made of the poor Bishop; (as you tell us in the last page of your Animadversions) and of all fish that flie, there's none I hate like an Example. In my opini­on, Philautus, you did him a little too hard, considering he was a Bishop.

How could I help it, Tim? [Page 28] dost think I can endure to be eter­nally tormented with nothing but Tohu's and Bohu's and Jargons? ‘The Bishop and I meet at Paris: we dis­course very calmly concerning Free­will: upon this he writes a very angry Book, viz. Vindication of true Liberty, &c. and upon that (as he desir'd) I writ that parlous little thing, Liberty and Necessity. But withal (now mark how tender I was of his credit) in no less than four several places, I requested, that it might by no means be Printed, that the World might never see what a pitiful weak Creature they had for a Church Governour. But afterwards this little Book being in­finitely desir'd, and by stealth made publick; notwithstanding all these cautions, and this my great regard to his reputation, he was so incon­siderate as to go and make a reply. In which, Tim, (to be short and plain) he has discover'd so little of breeding, reasoning, or elocution, that I am oft times forced to let [Page 29] him know that his Lordship writes like a Beast, nay worse than a Beast, nay both as to sense and cleanliness: and for his language that 'tis Jar­gon, Tohu, Bohu, the very same with that of the Kingdom of darkness.’

'Twas a most unhappy thing, that so great a Churchman should run himself into such danger: and at once offend such a formidable Monster of Wit, and Philosophy.

Offend? I tell thee, Tim, I am of as gentle and sparing a nature (let people talk but tolerable non­sense) as any man alive: but to be perpetually snarl'd at and curs'd—One he falls to scribling against me with his Ghebrical gibberish, call'd Symbolls, Gambolls, or Antichrist in short hand; and in his Elenchus would make people believe that he has con­futed me, by writing so as no body understands him. Then comes ano­ther little Dog call'd Vindex Acade­miarum, and without being set on, he barks and exclaims against me as an Enemy to the Universities; and knows [Page 30] no more than a Puppy, either what an Enemy is, or what an University is. Then comes the railing and won­dring Bishop with his Tohu, Bohu and Jargon; and he calls me Rebel, Atheist and Blasphemer, because I will not comply with him in his fopperies of Accidents of Cheese in Bread, Free­will, Free-subject, and the like. Up­on this, Tim, perceiving that folly and spight were both like to be end­less: and that of all men that baited me, the Clergy were the great Ring­leaders and disturbers, what did me I, (for my future ease and quiet) but pickt out this same provoking Bishop, as a good lusty Sacrifice of their own flock: and so made of him an example for all the rest: which, if I be not much mistaken, I have done to some purpose.

To tell the Bishop (as you do) that his distinction of compoun­ded sense and divided sense was non­sense, was a very proper and pinching reflection: there being no sort of sense so very scandalous as non-sense: [Page 31] but to let go the very same instru­ments of revenge upon every slight cavil, and frivolous occasion; and in times too, when Liberty of will, as well as Episcopacy and Loyalty were equally persecuted; was not done like a man that pretends to such va­riety of wit, and had the honour to initiate his present Majesty in the Ma­thematicks.

Thou talkest, Tim, as if the Bishop had left thee a Legacy to de­fend his fooleries. I wonder, what kind of things thou countest slight and frivolous. If a man should tell me [...] long story of a round quadran­gle, or of a Kingdom standing upon two heads, and I desire him out of all love to speak softly; for my part, I believe thy wit to be such, that thou wouldst look upon this to be meer carping and cavelling.

No; by no means, Sir: you talk now of businesses indeed. But suppose, Philautus, the Bishop in his Epistle to the Reader, taking notice of your Principles being destructive [Page 32] both to Religion and Government, concludes all with, God bless us. May not a Bishop (because the su­preme Rascals had got away his estate) reserve so much of his sa­cred function, as to say, God bless us, without being accused of buffoonly abusing the name of God to calumny?

But he brings it in, Tim, as if he intended it as a spel, or a charm against my doctrine.

Perhaps so: for there are a great many think it pernicious, be­sides the Bishop.

It may be some few particular men.

Do you know what you have said? what a barbarous expres­sion is this, for one that has done so well upon Thucidides, and the Peak! is t [...]is you that pretend to such ex­actness of Language and have so lit­tle as to come in with your particu­lar men? Is this you that have con­founded thousands of Catechisms and thousands of Confessions, and routed white Caps, black Caps, corner'd Caps, [Page 33] Priests, Jesuits, and Ministers, and talk of your particular men? is this you—

For shame, Tim, rave no more, for thou lookest black in the mouth already. I prethee what fault canst thou fi [...]d with particular men, Tim. Wherein does the iniquity of that expression lie?

I know no more hurt in't than you did, when you made use of it in the last page but one of your Ani­madversions: (as you may do a hun­dred times more for ought I know) but the poor Bishop did but speak of some particular men that slighted all ancient Authors: and 'twas as very Jargon, as if he had taken his Text out of St. Paul to the Deuterono­mians; particular men! this word particular men (say you) is put in here, in my opinion with little Judg­ment: especially by a man that pre­tendeth to be learned. That now is a very girding aggravation. Does the Bishop think that he himself is, or that there is any Universal man? that's vexation driven. It may be he means a [Page 34] private man. Does he then think there is any man not private besides him that is endued with Soveraign Power? rarely fetch'd up again! there is not one man of a thousand that's fit to be trusted with an absurdity: that knows how to give the rising blow, and to urge and press to the quick. I wonder for my part that Episcopacy was not asham'd of coming into Ire­land again, so long as there was a particular man to be found there. But that which pleases me much bet­ter than all this, Philautus, is; that the Bishop a while after happening to make use of the word General, the Tables presently turn, and he's e'en as very Ja [...]gon for that, as he was be­fore for particular. General! 'tis Jargon, say you: for every thing that is, is singular and individual, and there's nothing in the whole World that is general, but the signification of words and other signs. So that, Philautus, if you resolve to deal with us at this severe rate, and neither let us have particular men as a constant going [Page 35] stock, nor an Universal man for a Breeder, we must e'en fling up at quarter day; and there's an end of the World.

What an idle stir thou makest about two or three rotten words! what's all this, I prithee, to the Mat­ter in hand.

Matter in hand! what, do you look upon Freewill to be a matter in hand, when as Liberty is immate­rial: or a discourse of Freewill (which consist only of words) to be a matter in hand? O, that I were but at lei­sure to take my full swing at this same luscious bit of non-sense; this same matter in hand!

Whereabouts are we got now, trow wee?

We are now just got to the 288th. page of your Animadversions. Where the Bishop did but speak of a perfect definition being made of the essential causes, viz. matter and form (which is as common as Logica est ars) and you hooted at him, for as very an example, as if he had gone [Page 36] nine miles to suck a Bull. What (say you) would the Bishop have matter come into a definition, that is made only of words: and into a definition of Liberty too, that is immaterial? We had best c [...]ll for a skillet for his Lordship, that he may set on his de­finition, and boyl it. Is it not a strange thing that a dignifyed Churchman should be so ignorant, as not to know that Matter is body, and that Body is corporeal substance, and subject to di­mension, such as are the Elements, and things compounded of the Elements? this is, Philautus, damnable and up­braiding Rhetorique: for though Mat­ter, Body, corporeal substance, di­mension, elements and things made of elements, seem to be the same sort of torment, yet it grates all the way like a saw upon a mans leg.

I know it does; and I inten­ded it should. For to illustrate non­sense, after this easie and familiar manner, is sometimes the most sting­ing improvement that can be made of it.

I pray, Sir, when the Bishop says that a man has the determinati­on of himself, and dominion over his own actions: how do you man­nage that absurdity?

It need not be manag'd at all Tim; for without any help the man makes an absolute fool of himself; and at one dash flings away all his Freewill, as utterly as ever rotten egg was [...]lung against the Wall: for over wh [...]tsoever things there's domi­nion, those things are not free.

This is a plain case, that he lost his parts and Bishoprick together: for Free dominion is as much as to say free imprisonment, free subjection, or free sl [...]very: and therefore I very much wonder'd at your Moderation, when (in the beginning of your Ani­madversions) you said that Arminia­nism was only in part the cause of the late troubles. Whereas 'tis very plain, that the War never had been begun, had it not been for the Freewillers. For a subject being nothing else but a person who has given up his will to [Page 38] the will of his Prince: he that pre­sumes to call in his own will again, and to challenge a dominion and command over his actions (as all Freewillers do) what does he do but in eff [...]ct, renounce all allegiance; and like a Rebel, sets up his own will against that of the supreme. Nay farther, whereas some people (not un­derstanding words) do imagine that the Doctrine of Necessity makes the Go­vernment of God Tyrannical; these are so very silly as not to perceive that they which maintain the contrary give way to the same absurdity in a much higher degree. For he that holds that man has a power and dominion over his own actions, makes every man to be a King: from whence it plainly follows (King and Tyrant being all one) that according to him, God is more a Tyrant, being King of Kings. I profess, I did not think there had been any thing nigh so much treason and blas­phemy in maintaining this same Li­berty of Will as now I perceive there is.

Thou perceive! thou per­ceivest nothing at all: not so much as the first grounds of the dispute be­tween us. For if thou didst, thou wouldst know, that no man in the World is more for true Liberty, and for mans being a free Agent than I am. Nay (which possibly such a Fool as thou art may stare at) I hold true Liberty more than the very Bishop himself, who seemeth so eagerly to scramble and fight for't. For (as I have it p. 77.) whereas the Bishop either craftily, or (be it spoken with all due respect) ignorantly pu [...] things so together as to scandalize me and make people believe I am altogether against Liberty, because I hold necessi­ty: let him and his Ecclesiasticks know, that I hold as much that there is true Liberty as he doth and more: for I hold it, as from Necessity; and that there must of Necessity be Liberty: but he (like a beast) holds it not from Necessity, and so makes it possi­ble there may be none. And that's the reason why I call'd my Book, Liberty [Page 40] and Necessity. For I am so far from denying Liberty, that I hold Necessity besides.

He does so: never minding that sober advice of the Poet, about severities clogg, upon the three Chil­dren that were drown'd; unty 'em and you undo 'em. Now say I, Phi­lautus, give me again my Actus pri­mus, and Actus se [...]undus, my termi­nus à quo, and terminus ad quem, my quidditas, quodditas, entitas, and all the r [...]st of my little, barbarous, Me­taphysical implements; rather than such childish, ridiculous, non-sensical querks and subtilties, dress'd up [...]n­to eloquent stile, with soft a [...]d Ro­man expressions. You had best now complain to his M [...]jesty that the boys laugh at you, when you chastise them for their particul [...]r men, their free dominion, and their boyl'd defi­nitions: and that they grow saucy and headstrong, and won't believe but that plain right-down, untrim'd Liberty, without any Necessity at all, is near upon as good, as your [Page 41] kind of Liberty lac'd with a ven­geance.

Nay, if you be good at that, Tim, for a need, I can rail, [...] well as you

I pray, Sir, hold your hand: for [...] last page of your six Les­son [...] you have given the [...]gregious Prof [...]ssours (as [...]ou call them) such a [...] as would go nigh to [...] the [...] it self. Go your ways, say you, you uncivil [...], inhu [...] ane Divines, Dedoc­tors of morality, unasinous Colleagues, egregious pair of Issachar, most wretch'd Vindices and Indices Academiarum.

I said all that; [...] they de­serv'd it. And I am heartily sorry, Tim, that I have it not about me, for thee too. For, thou art a most rude and ungentile scribler, a most un­mannerly, and scurrilous libeller, a most ignorant, pragmatical, and ma­licious despiser of age, gravity, obser­vation, and every thing else that is becoming and venerable: a very Boy, Toy, flie-flap, shittle-cock, nut-crack, [Page 42] that ought not to speak to one that has read a good Book, or seen a wise man: the very sediment, fag-end, stump, and snuff of mankind; that snears and blinks at stars of reason: a [...]d that shirk'd only into humane race, to vex old men, and stum sober company: and [...]herefore [...] do defie thee, and abhor thee, and spit on thy face, and say, that that Liberty of humane actions, which I do allow of, is true Liberty.

And spit, and rail till you be hoarse again, I do say that, ac­cording to your principles, a Mu­stard-quern, or Wheel-barrow, has every whit as much liberty, choice, &c. as the most uncontroulable Go­vernour now upon earth.

Why so? don't I frequently say that man is a free Agent, that he deliberates, chuses, consents, &c.

Yes, that you do forty times over.

How much freedom then wouldst thou have? I grant that he [Page 43] [...]ay do, whatever he will; and I [...]hink that's Forest big enough for [...]ny one Creature to range in.

But I pray, Sir, how far is that same will that he has, in his own power?

That now is as absurdly and ignorantly spoken, as ever was any thing either b [...] the Bishop or St. Au­stin: for, they hoth talk of having the will in their own power, not at all con­sidering, that the will is the very power it self.

That was very carelesly d [...]ne of them i [...]deed: for, as you say, the will being the power, to talk of having power over the will, is all one as to have power over power: whence will follow penetration of powers: and so we shall have two Kings of Bren­ford currant at the same time. And therefore being convinc'd, Philautus, that I was in the wrong, I [...] on­ly to know what is it, that a man has the power to will?

Because that [...]ow is tol [...]rable well, (if it be rightly taken) [...] do [Page 44] tell thee, that he has power to will whatever he pleases, phansies, or has a mind to: and I know not what thou canst desire more, unless thou would'st have the Calf with the white face.

But I pray, Sir, how comes he by that mind? does that mind come always upon him necessarily; so that it was impossible for him not to have had that mind: or does he himself choose that mind?

Choose that mind! what strange words you put together again: what, would you have a man to choose his own choice, and to will his own will? 'tis worse by half than ly­ing with his own mother.

A great deal worse, Sir, for man is an excellent Creature; for man has a liberty to do: and besides that, he has liberty to do whatever he will: (O brave man!) and he can will whatever he has a mind to: but all on a sudden he plomps, for he has a mind to nothing. And so, you know, it happen'd, Philantus, in [Page 45] that famous case of the House that Jack built. For though it was al­ways granted that there was a man that killed the Cat, that eat the Mouse, that lived in the House—yet, at the upshot of the business, Jack always steps in, and swops away all the credit.

All this ridiculous prattle is, because thou never hadst a just and true notion of Liberty. For, Liberty, say I, is absence of all the impediments to action that are not—

This now is specially good, and one of your old tricks. For you take a man and stake him down upon the middle of New-market heath, and then give him a definition of Liberty, and tell him that he may now run away faster, than if he were loose; for now he runs upon necessity, but if he were loose, he could only run away upon his Legs.

'Tis impossible ever to stop a Fools mouth, that won't hear out a definition.

I am resolv'd not to hear it, [Page 46] make your complaint where you will. For put you a man into a Dun­geon, as deep as you can th [...]ust him; and let me [...] [...]ut the ordering of a few words, and if I don't present­ly defi [...]e him steeple height, I'le un­dertake to supply his place. And therefore, still say I, give me my Wheel-barrow for a free Agent. For this can do whatever it will: and it can will whatever it has a mind to; and it has a mind to whatever the man that crowds behind has a mind to, who has a mind to whatever the Heavens and Elements crowd upon him. So that, let the necessity be a thousand removes of, yet for all that, certainly at last we fetch about to the House that Jack built. And so we must do. For, as was said before concerning thoughts; that the great­est variety imaginable can never arise to freedom of thinking; so neither can the justling and crowding back of the immediate necessary causes ever amount to Liberty of doing. For, let the plot lie as deep as the [Page 47] Center of the earth, and let there be never so many turnings, and whirl­ings, and windings; yet the case is [...]xactly the same, as if all had been laid but just at threshold-door. And therefore, why should we play the Children any longer, and talk of willing, and choosing, and I know not what, and mean nothing thereby?

I tell thee, Tim, there is a kind of great business which I do mean by that Liberty, which I count consistent with Necessity: but if thou resolvest not to like it, then, say I, thou must e'en be content, to take up with necessity all alone. Perhaps thou hast got a new set of Vertuoso ­arguments, and some double-bottom­objections against me; if thou hast, produce, Child; and thou shalt see how I'le slice thee down.

What I have, Sir, I shall keep to my self: unless in your answers to common reasons and experience, formerly alledg'd by others, you had discovered somewhat besides querks, quibbles, and ignorance.

Now to see the Coxcombness of such a pragmatical fellow! for, though all that I have written, have been perform'd wi [...]h strange kind of force and p [...]cuity; yet never was any thing so clearly laid down, nor so solidly defended, as I h [...]ve done the necessity of all events. For in the first place (as a [...] foundation) I do assert, that th [...] [...] such thing or cause of any thi [...]g, as luck, [...]nce, or fortune: but that they are all meer words, more or less made use of, according to the degrees of mens ignorance or understanding. Now, Tim, away to thy detecting office; and shew me where the querk or quibble of this notion lies.

There's none at all in't, Sir: 'tis a huge, stout, well-grown truth: and whereas you crowd it almost in­to every Book you have written, as if 'twere a discovery of your own; 'twas so anciently and currantly be­lieved, that one of the very Poets could tell us above a thousand years ago— Nos facimus fortuna deam, &c. [Page 49] and besides 'tis nothing at all to the purpose: for though (making use of a common phrase) I may say such a friend may chance to come to my House to morrow; yet my being ig­norant which of the two will come to pass, does not at all hinder his own choosing, whether he'l come or stay at home.

But that, Tim, namely, whe­ther of himself he can choose to come or stay at home, is the very controversie betwixt us; and against it I have two familiar Cases to pro­pound; one concerning the weather, t'other concerning dice: each of which will most effectually prove (if ever I prov'd any thing at all) the necessity of all kind of events what­ever, humane or not humane. And therefore the first thing I would know of thee is this: whether 'tis necessary that to morrow it shall rain, or not rain: what thinkest thou?

I believe 'tis.

'Tis! 'tis what?

'Tis most absolutely and un­doubtedly [Page 50] necessary that to morrow it shall rain, or not rain.

But that's not my meaning, Tim: but, it being necessary that to morrow it shall rain or not rain, that, which I would know, is whether this very one, or that very one is abso­lutely necessary.

I care not much if (for a little while) I believe that also. For I always love to believe, as much as ever my skin will hold.

Then farewell all contingen­cies and Freewill.

As for contingencies, let the Poet and the Bees look to them: but as for my Freewill, I won't take ten groats for't yet. For the instance you give is no trial at all of Freewill. For I believe 'twill necessarily rain, or ne­cessarily not rain to morrow (as that the sun will rise or not rise) because the weather is not within a mans power; but falls out necessarily ac­cording to the course of the World: not for your silly reason, because 'tis a true disjunctive proposition: and [Page 51] therefore the whole being necessarily true, the parts or one of them should be so too: for do but try it, Philau­tus, in any other proposition, where the necessity of events may not be concern'd (that there may be no sculking advantage in the word ne­cessity) and you shall see 'tis so querk­ishly and ignorantly said, that a very fresh-man but of a months standing, would have been asham'd to have been guilty of such a gross errour. For jnstance; Every number is odd or even, is a proposition so very good and laudable, that the Pope himself has not a better in all his budget: that is, if you serve it up all whole together: but take the same, and chop it into two Messes, viz. Every number is odd, ev [...]ry number is even: and it makes two such deadly rappers as would choak old Nick himself. So again, to say that every man in the world is in London, or out of London, has no hurt at all in't. But pull this in pie­ces, and it may so fall out, that there [Page 52] may be most deadly crowding for the Wall.

But these cases, that you have put Tim, being general; you only mean that some numbers are odd, and some even: and some men are in Town, and some are out.

And if you suppose in parti­cular that to morrow my Lord Mayor goes abroad or stays at home: you only mean that sometimes he is plea­sed to go abroad and sometime he's pleased to stay at home. For though that same Omnis be a person of won­derful dispatch and presence, yet 'twould make the greatest individual Magistrates head in the world, to gigge again, to have so much busi­ness upon his hand, as to be fore'd all the day long to be abroad at home.

I know he can be but in one place: but wherever that be, 'tis upon necessity.

Why so?

Because every proposition is true or false.

That's right: if therefore [Page 53] every proposition in the world were true, or every proposition were false (which, Philautus, is your way of Computation) then I grant you, that he must needs go, that the De­vil drives. But because there's Field­room enough, and that some pro­positions are true, and some false; therefore I am resolv'd to enjoy my humour, and neither to go, nor drive, unless I have a mind to't. For in short, Philautus, that same old famous story of Socrates's necessarily dispu­ting to morrow, or not, because every proposition is now true or false, has no more in't but just this; that 'tis true to day, that one of the two shall be true or come to pass to mor­row; or 'tis true or false to day, that this or that particularly shall be true or come to pass to morrow: and sweat and shuffle as long as you will, you can never advance that querk any higher. And therefore to make an end of this same story of Socrates and the weather; seeing, Philautus, these same English men are most of [Page 54] them a Company of clownish and dis­ingenuous dunces; the Ecclesiasticks having no breeding, the Philosophers having not tasted of motion, and the Mathematicians being much o'rerun with the scab of ignorance, pride, and symbols; the best way will be to draw up your opinion concerning a disjunctive proposition (you may do it in half a sheet) and send it be­yond Sea: where (as you very friendlily inform your self in your late lux Mathematica, &c.) you are much read, understood, and admir'd: and if amongst all your acquaintance, you can get so much but as one sub­scription to your Paper, by any body that knows what belongs to Logick (to which you appeal in this very Case) then shall it rain or not rain; and Socrates shall dispute or not dis­pute, whenever Philautus pleases.

What dost tell me of Logick? dost think that I that began to rea­son, the very first day I went into breeches, will be bound up to your paltry, pimping, pedantick rules of [Page 55] Logick? don't I know that Logick is the Mother of all Lyes, and the Nurse of your damn'd, confounded Metaphysical jargons?

Now do I shortly expect a Book contra Fastum Dialecticorum: now am I confident that Logick will be the Devil and all, as Mathema­ticks was, after the Doctor had bafl'd, and confuted you.

I bafl'd, I confuted? I never was, nor will be, as long as I live.

No, no, Sir: you shan't be confuted: it does not at all become one of your age to be confuted: 'tis uncivil, Sir, 'tis not done at all like a Gentleman to confute you: You shall have a protection from his Majesty not to be confuted.

You lye in your very throat. I never went about any such thing.

Perhaps so: but however having now done with the business of the weather; let's now if you please, Sir, have one throw at Liberty and Necessity; that we may see, whe­ther [Page 56] the Dice will run on my side, or yours.

Done: I would know then, suppose, I take a die, and throwing it upon the Table, there comes up such or such a cast: whether there was not an absolute necessity of that particular cast.

Most absolute.

Then have you perfectly gam'd away your Freewill.

Yes: just as much as t'was rain'd away before. For supposing (as you do) that a die have (as they call them) so many chances, and such a chance to lie uppermost when 'tis thrown, and to be thrown with such or such a force, and upon a table of such or such a smoothness, then say I there will as necessarily come forth such or such a cast, as if there had been never another cast upon the die but that which came forth.

Then there's necessity enough.

Enough: but nothing to your purpose.

That's strange.

Not at all: because all the several circumstances requir'd to such a cast, notwithstanding all that you have supposed, are wholy still in my own power; that is, I may choose which side I'le lay foremost, upon what I'le make the throw, and if need be I can have a spring with so many notches, that shall let go the die, and give it as many turns, as I please.

You chuse! you please! 'tis a very hard matter, I see, to beat people out of the common track of non-sense. And therefore though there's nothing more seemingly ca­sual, or more proper to be insisted on, than the weather and dice; yet, because to give particular instances would be endless, I shall rather chuse to put all out of doubt, and settle the whole business by one general argument.

That will be well indeed. For I love at my very heart those same general arguments; because they pretend to kill the old one [Page 58] in the Nest. How is it I pray, Sir?

'Tis thus: there is, say I, a necessity or necessary cause of all events; because every event has a sufficient cause. For an event is that which is come to pass: and nothing can come to pass unless somewhat produce it: and produc'd it cannot be, but by that which is able or sufficient to produce it: that is to say, but by the meeting toge­ther of all that's necessary to pro­duce it.

And what then?

Then every thing that is pro­duc'd, is necessarily produc'd.

Why so?

Because all is met together that was necessary.

Therefore they necessarily met together: did they? O your Servant, Sir! because Fire, Water, and Oatmeal are requisite (that's all the meaning of necessary here) for the making of Water-gruell: there­fore I must of necessity fall upon the operation at four of the Clock; and [Page 59] 'tis impossible for me to forbear, or imploy my self otherwise at that time.

So 'tis impossible.

To do what: to stab and kill a man, and then to unstab and unkill him again? that's all, Philautus: for seeing in our Country ther's no halfing or quartering of effects: therefore (say you) all effects are necessary: that is, you suppose the thing done, or (which is all one) to be in such cir­cumstances, that 'tis impossible but that it should be done; and then you conclude 'twas necessary that it should be done. Whereas the question is not whether when [...]ny thing is pro­duc'd, such and such things are ne­cessarily requir'd to its production; but whether it be now necessary, that all those necessaries or requisites shall certainly club together at such a time to produce it.

I say they must, and that up­on the account of sufficient causes.

And, I say, they need not, and that upon the account of the West­wind: [Page 60] and I am sure tha [...] my account is as good as yours: for I am for suf­ficient causes as much as you.

What, and hold freewill?

O most easily, Sir: for oft­times the will alone is the sufficient cause.

Of what! of the will!

No, that's Jargon: but of the action.

But, I enquire, what's the cause of the will.

So you may, but in many in­stances I can tell none.

I prethee, let me hear one of those instances; and thou shalt see, if I don't presently Ferret out a suf­ficient cause.

Suppose then there be laid before you, three Apples: I would know, whether you can pick one of them.

Yes surely: what hinders?

You can as soon pick a Star out of the Firmament: for these Ap­ples shall be exactly of the same size, the same complexion, and the same [Page 61] distance from the eye; and there­upon they shall strike and tempt all alike: so that, unless you'l allow the will it self to cast in the last feather, and to determine the scales, you can only platonically admire, for there's no falling to, as the case stands.

But you don't consider, Tim, how the World being in a constant toss and hurry; there's chopping and changing every moment: so that one or other of your sufficient causes over-topping the rest, will strike you as dead—

Theresore I'll have my three equally sufficient apples to be nail'd fast down; and there shall be a very stout supporter for the chin, that the head may no ways wag; and the eyes shall be so spoken to, that they shall not dare to rowl in the least.

But may there not be for all this, that which they call, I know not what, which getting in at a corner of the eye, may give a private stab, and so determine the choice?

There may so: sor perhaps [Page 62] one of the Apples may have some pretty mole or dimple, or some such wounding feature or other. And therefore I think we had best take three pease, or three grains of Mu­stard seed. Surely there can't be any great difference of Cupids in such a case. Or if we ben't yet armour­proof; what think you, Philautu [...], of even or odd? there is, you know, just as many of t'one as t'other: and as for the words themselves they seem to smirk and flame and charm much at one. And yet 'tis very evident from History, that there has been many a shilling won and lost at that game: which, according to you, is utterly impossible; and as meer a tale as Religion.

How so?

Because no body could ever play at it. For if the mind never determines it self, but is always (as you would have it) necessarily over­born by hopes and fears: the hopes and fears of even and odd being for ever equal, if at any time even (sup­pose) [Page 63] puts in for a mans will, pre­sently in steps odd, and looks you full o'the face, with its why not I as well? so that the alternate appetite (as you call it) being perpetual, a mans mind can never possibly be seised on, but must go titter totter, swing swang, to the Worlds end.

Don't you trouble your self about that, Tim: for 'tis very plain that a man may choose one number before another; but, still say I, the reason is not meerly because he will chuse it (for that's non-sense) but because by chusing it, he hopes—

Hopes! to do what?

To win.

I tell you, he shan't hope any such thing.

Why, Tim, must a man ask you leave to hope?

I don't stand much upon't, Sir: but you won't let him hope: for, in the ninth Chapter of your Humane nature, you put in this imbargo upon hope: viz. that it does then only take place, when the causes that make us [Page 64] expect the thing hop'd for, are greater than those that make us expect the con­trary. Now he that, in the business of even or odd, can spy out such bouncing causes on one side, more than t'other, shall presently quit the Chanel, and be permitted to hope.

But may there not be many other sufficient causes besides hope, fe [...]r, and such like passions, that may possibly move and determine the will?

Questionless there may be several: for suppose, the gamester chops at even: one sufficient cause of that choice may be, that, by so doing, it is an even case but that he wins: and certainly he's a very foul Gamester that desires any more than to win. In the next place, 'tis to be considered, that possibly the Gentle­m [...]n that so chuses, may be of a smooth and even temper: and what influence bodily temper (for there is no other) has upon all humane af­fairs, whether by Sea or by La [...]d, I need not explain. Besides, it must [Page 65] not be omitted, that the choice which is propounded is not odd or even, but even or odd: so that even getting the start of odd, claps in physically upon the phansie, before odd can possibly get up. To all which (if need were) may be further added, that perhaps the Gentleman Elector by some means or other may have been prejudic'd against odd: either by having an odd Father, an odd Mother, or an odd kind of Wife; and many such an odd thing may have happen'd, that may have quite disoblidg'd him, and in­dispos'd him to odd. And as there may be many other sufficient causes that may thus jog and incline the will to even: so without doubt one that married but a small relation of Tul­lies, for a very little fee, could do as much for odd.

But why do we spend so much time about such trifles and inconsider­able things as these: whereas, we are inquiring what it is that directs a man in the grand affairs of his life.

As much trifles and inconsi­derable [Page 66] as they seem to be, give me leave to tell you, Philautus, that these same trifles and inconsiderables do ut­terly destroy not only all your Do­ctrine of Necessity, but all that nothing that you have said against immaterial substances. For, if any one man since the world began, has but lifted up his finger meerly because he would do so: that is to say, when all out­ward causes and considerations did equally solicite him to move it down­wards, (were there no other) 'tis a demonstration to me, that there is somewhat in the world besides mat­ter; and that man is of that kind.

I prithee don't tear me a pie­ces now, with those contradictions of immaterial substances: but let me ad­vise thee not to be cheated with such phrases, as thou didst just now men­tion. viz. because he would do so, for­sooth: for we oft-times hear people say, they will do such a thing; I, that they will: as if the will were the only determining cause: whereas there's abominable Pride, Vain-glory, and [Page 67] perverseness in that expression. For example, you tell a man, suppose, that he shan't fling his Hat into the fire; no that he shan't. Say you so, says he? I'll see you hang'd, before I'll be nos'd by such a scoundrel, and with that slap goes the Hat into the middle of the fire.

And truly he's right enough serv'd, that gives a Gentleman such saucy language. But what shall we think of him, Philautus, who, with­out any such provocation at all, upon the twenty third of April takes his silk-doublet, and cutting it into thirty nine pieces, steeps it in Rhenish Wine till the first of September; and then seals it up in a Tamarisk-box, with this superscription; Ego & tu sumus in tuto: and lays it under his pillow the night before Full Moon.

For my part, I keep to my old opinion: that every thing has a beginning: and that nothing can come to pass alone.

Most certainly nothing can: and therefore, doubtless the sufficient [Page 68] cause of this whole business lie couch'd in the Rule of three. For, as the twenty third of April is to a silk Doublet cut into thirty nine pieces: so are those thirty nine pieces steep'd in Rhenish Wine till the first of Sep­tember, to the Tamarisk Box, with the foresaid superscription, laid under the pillow the night before Full Moon.

I must confess, that the neces­sary and sufficient cause of some acti­ons, (especially of those which are call'd indifferent) lie oft-times very deep: but of all actions, I am from hence sure, there's always one at the bottom; because in all common acti­ons, and concerns of life, it lies so very plain.

I grant you that the probabi­lity of many events lies very plain: but not the necessity of any one, that I know of. That is to say in other words, that man being a rational Crea­ture, for the most part is pleas'd (not constrain'd) to do that which is most reasonable: so if a Merchant, suppose, is promised an old debt of [Page 69] five thousand pounds, for crossing the street: 'tis highly probable, that such news as this, will make the spirits to sally a little towards the Legs. But what if he stays at home only to suck his middle finger?

The cunning of that may be, Tim, to make such Fools as thee be­lieve, that man has dominion over his actions. But there's no such thing at all: for he stays at home only to cross and contradict those that deny Freewill. That is in short, he loves and prefers his opinion (than which nothing you know is dearer) before five thousand pounds.

But how came he, Sir, to dote so much upon his middle finger: does the Doctrine of Freewill make the middle finger grow fatter than all the rest?

That need not be: for, in it self you know, it is the longest and most sufficient.

And so, in good truth, must the little one have been; if he had spent his Meditations upon that. A­gain, [Page 70] Philautus, suppose a man be catch'd in a good lusty rain: there is such probability of some events, that I count it more than two to one, that he will choose to borrow a Cloak, rather than a Curry-comb or shooing­horn.

If he does ask for any such thing; a very sufficient cause of that may be, to make people laugh.

Indeed he can't help it, if they do laugh: but he may do it, meerly because he will do it.

But I have told you over and over that that is utterly impossible.

And I can say it as often, that 'tis not. Seeing, by many instan­ces above given, 'tis plain that a man may and doth often determine him­self, where all imaginable grounds of necessity are equally poys'd: I count that I may safely conclude that, when­ever he pleases, he may make use of the same power in all other cases whatever. For the same principle which impowers a man for to do any one thing upon no extrinsecal ac­compt [Page 71] at all; impowers him to sor­bear the doing of any other thing whatever, though he has a thousand reasons to do it. Against all which, you have no other sence, but only to pop in that lamentable engine of your sufficient cause. The sum of which is only this, that whatever is already done, can't be undone: and whatever is not yet done, is not done as yet.

That great notion of a suffi­cient cause (whereby I absolutely de­monstrate the necessity of all events) which you so saucily disdain, has stun'd all the great Divines and Philo­sophers of Europe. Whereas all those inconveniencies and absurdities which they charge upon my Doctrine, of themselves vanish in a moment; they being chiefly grounded (as most er­rours are) upon nothing else but want of understanding of the true signification of words. It would be very tedious, Tim, to repeat many of their objections, they are so into­lerably silly: and therefore I shall [Page 72] only give you a very short specimen of their folly. In the first place they'l tell you, that if there be a necessity of all humane actions, to what pur­pose do we praise and commend one action; and blame and discommend another. Ignorant Souls! that should not understand, that to praise or com­mend a thing, is only to say a thing is good: good I say for me, or for some body else, or for the State and Common­wealth. And in like manner to blame and discommend a thing, is no more than to say that 'tis bad and incon­venient. For instance, what more common, Tim, than for people, in cold weather, to say there's a very good fire: an excellent good fire: a special good fire: a most stately Princely fire (words big enough for the greatest exploits of the mightiest Hero) and yet, I suppose, very few think that the fire burns out of choice and discretion: and that it lies list­ning and gaping for commendations, and burns accordingly. On the con­trary, what is it we mean when we [Page 73] express our dislike and disgust? Be true now, and tell me, Tim; is there any thing more frequent than to say, that such an Horse is blind or foun­der'd: that he starts, halts, or stum­bles: that he's a very Jade: a rotten, molten, confounded Jade; (words that do most passionately express blame and displeasure) and yet again we don't suppose that the Horse ever re­quested the Blacksmith to drive a nail up to the hilts into his foot: or desir'd the Groom to thrust out one of his Eyes with the Pitch-fork, or to ride him so hard, as to melt or founder him? and therefore, in the fourty first page of my Animadver­sions, I tell thee (hadst thou the wit to observe it) that, whereas people make such a great bustle about their sins; and are oft-times vex'd and can't sleep in their beds for their sins; sin is nothing else but halting or stumbling in the ways of Gods Com­mandments.

And do you think that this is all that is meant by peoples break­ing [Page 74] Gods Commandments; that one is stab'd with the Pitchfork of stupi­dity and ignorance; and another prick'd and lam'd by the Blacksmith of sensuality and drunkenness: so that there must needs be great halt­ing and stumbling among them?

What, Tim, do you make sport and a mock of such a serious thing as sin?

'Tis you and such as you, Philautus (whose very opinions make a mock of sin) that are the sport­makers: not those, who out of a sin­cere design to undeceive the World, are forc'd sometimes to condescend to very mean, and almost unpardon­able expressions.

I don't cheat or deceive any body: for 'tis plain from common Custom, and the consent of the best Authors, that praise and dispraise do equally belong to those things, that are never so far from all pretences of Freewill, as well as to men.

But then, Philautus, I would have people a little careful how, and [Page 75] upon what, they bestow their com­mendations and reproofs. For though sometimes indeed they turn to very good accompt; yet at other times they have their inconveniencies. He therefore that overnight commended a diamond at such a rate, that by Morning it was grown from a Cherry­stone to a Pippin, (besides a little young diamond it had foled, running by its side) must be granted to have spent his breath, and praises with ve­ry good discretion and profit. Nei­ther was the famous Miller of little Hingham much out of the way: who, when the wind did not blow to his mind, would so frown, and chide, and rattle over his Mill, that one would wonder to see, how pouring the meal came down, upon the re­proof. But, for all that, I shall al­ways pity poor Sir Frederick.

For what I prethee?

Why, Sir, he having in Christmass time (as most Gentlemen use to have) one of those same stately and Princely fires before-mention'd: [Page 76] the neighbours that sat about it, fell into such lavish praises, and extrava­gant admiration of the fire, that it grew so conceited, as to burn down the House. Therefore, if it must be so, that to praise or dispraise a thing is only to say that 'tis good or bad: yet however let people hence learn, that good words, as well as bad, are to be used with dis­cretion. But truly, Philautus, (to deal plainly with you) as plausible as the conceipt seems to be, for my part, I much suspect whether it be true. For though we may praise a stone, tree or Horse, a mans foot or forehead, with the very same words and phra­ses, and in as good a stile as the best of humane actions: yet I can't but think that those commendations which are usually bestow'd upon that accompt, which we call desert, to be not only much larger, but quite of another kind from those which we give upon all other occasions what­ever. And though I don't at all doubt, but that such an one as Pliny, could [Page 77] have done very much upon the con­siderable legs and renowned cod-piece of Henry the Eighth; yet I am confi­dent, he would have done much bet­ter upon the peaceable and pious reign of Q. Elizabeth. But to make an end of this, Philautus, we do often indeed commend the sun for shining, and the Heavens for affording rain, and the like: but, at our end of the Town, (what you do I know not) we think hereby we praise God himself; who not out of his necessary, but free pleasure at first created, and still dis­poses of all these things: and has made man like himself. So that still nothing is prais'd meerly because 'tis good or beneficial, but because it was contriv'd and brought about by that which need not have done it.

But don't you hear people very ordinarily blame and find fault with bad winds and bad weather, as well as commend good: and com­plain of many things that could not be help'd?

Yes: and I don't much won­der [Page 78] at it: for, such Fools as those, shall curse and bid the Devil take them ten thousand times over, for such things, as they could have help'd: and that's their gentile way of repentance. And therefore let us have no more concerning praise and dispraise; but let us see if they have any thing else to say against you.

They have nothing at all to say: but they think they have got somewhat by the end; when they tell you, that if there be a necessity of all humane actions; then many laws would be unjust, because the breach of them could not be avoided.

This sounds, Philautus, as if it had somewhat in't.

That it does: and that's all. For whereas they talk of an unjust law, they had as good talk of a piece of iron burning cold. For, every Law is either divine or humane. As for di­vine Laws, the irresistible power of God alone justifies all them.

Truly such a famous Broker [Page 79] for power (as you are known to be) may easily make that out. For, ha­ving in your Animadversions, turn'd all the Attributes of God (as you use to do all things else) into power; making divine goodness, divine mercy, and divine justice to be nothing but power: you might securely say that divine power alone justifies all actions. That is, divine power alone together with all the rest, especially divine justice, justifies all actions. And now, I pray, a little concerning humane Laws.

Concerning them I do say al­so, that 'tis impossible that any one of them should be unjust. For, a humane Law is that which every subject has given his consent to: namely, by gi­ving up his will to the will of the su­pream: and no man can be unjust to himself. And therefore a Prince can't put upon his subjects any unjust Law.

Suppose, he should put out a Law, that all that are born blind, shall have their fingers and toes cut off. There's abundance of power in this [Page 80] same Law: but, in my mind, very little justice.

Why, all the fingers and toes of the Nation are the supremes. And you have given up your consent as well to his pleasure, as his power.

Never in my life to such pleasure as this.

You have given your consent to all things, that he should do, be they what they will.

No but I han't. For if he has a mind to go a finger▪ hawking, or so; I desire to stay at home, and keep the Hogs out of the Pease. Because, long before I had bargain'd with him, I had preingaged my self to the Law of nature and reason (to which he, for all his greatness, is as much a subject as [...]) never to use, or give my consent to such inhumane recreations. But, if I mistake not, Philautus, you and I had some little talk about these matters, when we met last at the Isle of Pines. And therefore be plea­sed to consider a little those same pu­nishments that are inflicted upon men, [Page 81] for what they could not avoid. It seems a little severe, Philautus, to hang a man for stealing, suppose; when as he could not possibly help it: and to damn him for not repenting, when he could, as little help that also.

As for damnation (if you mean your eternal damnation) I shall tell you a fine story about that by and by—

A fine one indeed!

But, as for peoples being pu­nish'd for what they could not avoid; the case, in short, stands thus: viz. When we say that such a one could not avoid the breaking of such a Law, we mean no more by it, but that he had a necessary will to break it. Now this same nec [...]ssary will contains two parts, Necessi [...]y and Will: (be sure that you attend well, for it clears all) now there­fore say I, when any man is punish'd for willing or doing of that which he could not avoid, he is not punish'd for the necessity, or because he could not avoid it—

I hope not: (for if he were, all the Dogs of the Town ought to be set upon the Execu­tioner.)

But he's punish'd for doing it, or willing it.

What's that, because he could avoid it?

No, no: but because he con­sented, and had a mind to▪t.

He consented! he had a mind to't! he scorns your words, Phila [...] ­tus; for he, nor any man else (ac­cording to you) had ever of them­selves a mind to any thing in this whole World. But those same neces­sary second causes oft-times flock about me, suppose, and have a mind to me: and when they take me only by the elbow, and clownishly drag me to the Jail, then am I said (because Liberty the same time pulls homeward) to go against my mind, and against my consent: but, when they take me gentilely by the brain and spirits (which have always the whole body at their beck) and slily push me on [Page 83] to steal, or the like, then, forsooth, a [...] [...] s [...]id to co [...]sent. Whereas I can as lit [...] avoid [...]his consenting, as going to [...] [...]ail. Only, here's all the dif­ferenc [...], th [...]t [...]e considerations of [...] [...]ecessarily affect the brain, b [...]ing [...]ot [...]uch visible and big things a [...] the Constables with their staves: therefore they say that I consented, and 'twas of my doing.

So 'twas of your doing. For in stealing, don't you put forth your hand, and take somewhat against Law?

That's a good one indeed! I walk suppose to the Window; and there lies a Gold-watch: and this gives me a deadly flap o're the face. I being of a sanguine complexion, and not us'd to pass by such affronts; I give it as good as it sent, and flap that o're the face again: but at last it does so dazle me, and puts me so out of all countenance; that I can't endure it in my sight any longer: and so, according to the laws of motion, it goes mechanically into my Pocket. [Page 84] And then poor Pill-Garlick must go to Pot; for having eyes, hands, and a pocket: whereas I'll be sworn, I no more conspir'd, nor consented [...] this, than a Mouse-trap does to the catching of a Mouse. For, though I look and leer, as if I intended some­what, and as if I took aim: but they are those same pernicious second causes that do all: they charge, and propound; and tickle and pull down the little Cartesian tricker, and then bounce go I off at the Watch.

As apt an instance, Tim, as thou thinkest this to be for thy pur­pose; thou couldst not have given one more for my advantage. For killing of Mice and such like Vermin is good for the Common-wealth: but, as for stealing, 'tis a thing that does hurt: 'tis noxious, Tim; as I have at large taught in my Liberty and Neces­sity. And therefore though every action of a mans life be equally unavoidable; yet those only are punishable that are found to be noxious.

Only those, Sir: and there­fore, [Page 85] though a Knife cuts and slashes a stick, or a piece of meat never so sorely; yet the Knife is not blamed and chastis'd for this; because 'tis not noxious. But if it chances to get never so little way into a Childs fin­ger, 'tis then presently chidden and condemn'd; and sometimes flung away with such displeasure, that for a week after 'tis ready to turn tail, at sight of a Pint of Butter; and you can scarce get it to come within a yard of a Pudding.

But this is only to cheat Children, and make them leave crying.

And to hang a man that has been past crying fourty years, is every whit as great a cheat: for he could not avoid stealing, any more than the Knife could avoid cutting.

I know that. But the end of punishment is to fright and deterr: and to frame, and make the will to justice.

I believe that if I be once hang'd for stealing, my mind will be [Page 86] strangely fram'd, and made against stealing any more.

But though your [...] can't; yet other mens minds may receive ad­vantage and instruction hereby.

I thank you for that indeed. I shall be hang'd for nothing at all, only to do my Neig [...]bour a kind­ness. I don't at all like (without any fault of my own) to be made a meer memorandum for the County, and a framer of other mens minds.

But you can't but say, that the punishment of on [...] man is a very proper means to keep others in awe.

Who was ever so silly as to say otherwise? But here's the case: which is most reasonable, to punish a man for doing of that which is noxi­ous, and which he could have avoi­ded, that hereby others may be af­frighted: or to hang him up as a Crow upon a Pear Tree, for no other reason at all but only to affright others.

I take them to be much alike.

Hugely alike indeed! for if the first be true, every mans sin and ruine lies at his own door: but if the last, I see no ways to avoid it—

To avoid what?

But that God must be the Author o [...] all sin.

The Author of all sin! who­ever that Divine be (for this is an old Black-Coat objection) that talks of God being the Author of sin is not fit to go Chaplain to a Mackerel-Boat. For the word Author, Tim, is a latine word; and to be the Author of any thing is to give it authority and credit: that is, to command it, warrant it, and owne it: now I suppose, Tim, that you can't find any where in Scripture, that God did ever command sin, or issued out any Warrants or Certificates for sin to be committed.

'Twere strange if one should. But yet if your opinion of necessity be true, one may find out that which is full out as strange, if not stranger.

What's that I prethee?

Whereas God has given plain Commandments against sin, and ma­nifested his great displeasure at it: notwithstanding this he has so far au­thoriz'd or own'd it as (according to you) to be the contriver, and finish­er too, of all the sins that ever were committed in the World.

I do grant, and don't look upon't to be any blasphem [...] to say, that God has so ordered the World that sin may necessarily be committed.

Then I pray is not sin of his ordering?

Not at all: [...]or to order sin is to put out an order to have sin commited.

And what is it to order the World so, that sin may necessarily be committed.

'Tis to put things of this World so and so together, that people will necessarily fall into such and such sins▪

Now I count these to be much the same. For, suppose, I give order to my man, first by word of mouth, and afterwards under hand and seal, to charge the Musket, and [Page 89] to shoot such a Neighbour as he goes to morrow to Market. Every body, I know, will grant, that I have ta­ken very sufficient order about this mans Death. But, suppose I do not dispatch him thus exactly, according to the Roman use o [...] the word: but, I knowing that this day twelve­months, he'll certainly ride to such a friends House, and certainly go through such a G [...]te; and I put things so [...]nd so together, that he shall chuse to go so much out of [...]he road, as to fall into a Pit and b [...]eak his neck: for my part, I should reckon, that in so doing, I did as it were order his tumbling into the pit; and that I was a kind of an Author of his de­struction, notwithstanding Author is a Latine word, and t [...]at he himself choose to go out o' the way, seeing that I had laid a trap for that choice.

I suppose you are not so much a Heathen, Tim, as to imagine God should go about to decoy men into sin, and to set snares for their de­struction.

I am so far from that, that I had much rather believe that there's no God at all, and no sin at all; but those of your opinion must believe so: for, if God makes man of such or such a consti [...]ution, and puts him into such and such circumstances, that every action he does (be it good or bad) it was as impossible for him to have avoided it; as it is for fire to avoid burning: I know in what sense it is that he has made fire to burn; and I dread to think that in the same he should make any man to [...]in.

What a havock's here about a little sin? when you have it so plainly in your Divinity Book, how that God hated Esau, and harden'd Pharaohs heart: how that he com­manded Abraham to murder his only Son Isaac, and gave Commission to the Israelites to cheat and rob the Aegyp­tians: and how besides all this God himself says by the Prophet Amos, non est malum in Civitate quod ego non feci?

'Twas well done indeed to [Page 91] put the last in Latin. For some body or other perhaps might be so silly as to think that malum did signifie sin: whereas, in that place, it means no­thing at all, but only those great judgments and afflictions, which God denounces against the people of Is­rael, for their oppression, Idolatry, and such like impieties. And you might as well have produc'd Gods raining Fire and Brimstone upon wicked Sodom and Gomorrah, to have lessen'd the impiety of your opi­nion of sin, as that place of the Pro­phet.

Say you so? What think you then of the Israelites robbing the Aegyptians, according to Gods own direction and warrant? was that, Tim, a meer affliction too?

Truly I take it to be so; see­ing that God himself tells Moses, that the last Plague that he intended to bring upon the Aegyptians for their oppressing his people, should be to spoil them of their Jewells. And, as for Gods making use of the Israe­lites [Page 92] in this affair, that was all one, as if he had given Commis­sion to a Whirlwind, Fire, or An­gels to have done the same, and to have been Executioners of his just displeasure.

Surely we shall have all the Bible turn'd into Judgments and Af­flictions. Must Gods hardening of Pharaohs heart come of thus also?

Just thus, Sir. For 'tis plain that God did not harden Pharaoh's heart, till he had hardened his own heart six times after so many judg­ments: and then God is said to have hardened his heart; that is, he choose rather to raise him up, or keep him alive, and to inflict upon him that punishment of hardness of heart, whereby the divine power by mi­racles might still be more manifest­ed, than to destroy him by the Pe­stilence.

But before ever Pharaoh hardened his own heart, so much as once; God was resolv'd to do it; and said ( Exod. 4. 21.) I will harden [Page 93] his heart, that he shall not l [...]t the peo­ple go.

And you may as well re­member, that in the Chapter before ( Exod. 3. 19.) the same God said also, he was sure that he would not let them go: that is, that he would har­den his own heart.

But I would know, what it was that God did to Pharaoh's heart, when he hardened it. That expres­sion, methinks, sounds as if it had something of positivity in't (as the Jargonists speak) and seems to make God every whit as much concerned in sin, as my opinion of necessity.

What did he do, say you? he did the same that the Scripture tells you he did to the Jews: who, when they had several miracles do [...]e amongst them, and would not see, and would not understand: God in­flicted this just Judgment upon them that they should not see and should not understand. In my opinion, 'tis very reasonable; and there's nothing at all i [...]'t tending towards the Author of sin.

But 'tis strange if this way of judgments and aff [...]ictions does for Esau too: for, before he was born, he was hated of God.

And so were all the Women in the World hated, in respect of the Virgin Mary; she being the only bles­sed among Women, and prefer'd to be the Mother of our Lord Jesus. For as 'twas impossible that Christ should be born bu [...] of one Woman: so like­wise was it as impossible that he should be descended but of one Man. And though God promised to bless Abraham and his seed after a most special manner, yet he never pro­mis'd to do the like to the elder House or line.

But what say you to Gods commanding Abraham to kill his own Son? you can't surely call that, meerly not preferring.

You know well enough that it was the contrary that he com­manded: for he said▪ lay not thine h [...]nd upon the lad. 'Tis said indeed that Abraham w [...]s tempted and tried [Page 95] by God: and that accordingly he obey'd, and made all things ready to do it.

But the Author to the Hebrews tells you, that he did offer him up: for doubtless Abraham did believe, that God did really intend that he should kill him; and that it was not at all unjust.

And well he might: not doubting, I suppose, but that God might as well chuse by Sacrifice, or what other means he pleased, to take away any innocent mans life, as by a Fever or any other sickness. So that we hear nothing as yet of the Author of sin, nor any thing toward Gods being at all concern'd in sin, after any such manner, as most inevitably follows from your opinion.

Therefore I have sav'd the great business for the last: viz. the eternal decrees and prescience of God Almighty. I suppose it will take you some time to explain them, and to reconcile them to your Freewill.

They are done the easiest of [Page 96] any thing you have yet menti­on'd.

How so, I prethee?

How so? I don't believe any such thing at all: that's my way, Sir.—

What, no decrees? no pres­cience? a most solid Divine without doubt!

Nay hold, Sir: 'tis only when I meet with one that has such a God as yours: for I believe always according to my Company: and when I meet with one that has no­thing else for his God but omnipo­tent thin matter, 'tis very idle in my opinion, to talk about his fore­knowing or determining before-hand what shall come to pass in this World. For the World may as well foreknow what God shall do, as God can what shall be done in the World: they both running into one another and so proving to be exactly the same.

But to say that God is the World is a most horrid opinion: [Page 97] and therefore in my Leviathan I ut­terly reject it, as very unworthy to be spoken of God.

Then you must reject your omnipotent matter also. For if God be nothing else but matter; and this matter be in every particle of the World or Universe, that is (to speak according to your self) of all that is; either we have no God at all, or they are all one which you please.

But the thinness, Tim! and the omnipotency.

Never talk to me of thin­ness, for thinness takes up as much room, as thickness. And Omnipo­tency it self can never take away that incurable nusance that belongs to matter, viz. of one justling out another.

But you make nothing to jumble mans body and soul together, and never think then of any such clashing or enterfeiring.

Therefore 'tis you that have help'd us to answer that difficulty: for the body of man being only flesh [Page 98] and bones, and the soul blood and spirits; their quarters (setting aside some few straglers) are e'en as dif­ferent as the Oat-tub is from the Hay-Chamber.

But stay a little, Tim; you are, I perceive, very severe in de­manding how that if God be meerly matter, the World and God should both stand together: now suppose I should grant the soul of man to be quite different from his body (which is a thing much too ridiculous to be so much as supposed) I pray, can't I, (seeing you are so very curious in your enquiring) enquire also, how contradictions can dwell together: that is, how matter and no matter can be join'd, and move one ano­ther? do you think it would not take much more time to remove and conquer such an absurdity as this, than any thing that is to be inferr'd from my opinion?

Nothing nigh so much, Sir: for though we cannot punctually tell you, by what Chains and Fetters, [Page 99] matter and no matter (or spirit) are fasten'd together; yet by our senses we are so exactly acquainted with the lodgings, haunts, and all the powers of the former, and do so ve­ry well know that the most subtle and most refin'd of all must be sub­ject to the common incumbrances, as evidently to perceive, that matter alone can never do the business.

Why so?

Because we don't only find several things very difficult to ex­plain, should there be nothing else; but somethings there be (especially two) which ever to explain is utterly impossible. And from the utter im­possibility of their ever being ex­plain'd, we have abundance of rea­son to believe that there is somewhat else: the name of which we agree upon to be a spirit.

And I prethee, Tim, may not I know what those two things be, which thou dost prophesie will never be explain'd?

I have told you them al­ready, [Page 100] Philautus. The one is, that God and the World are the very same; of which I desire no more may be now said. The other is, that a man can't chuse of himself to stroak his beard, when it would ob­lige the Company every whit as much, if he cockt his Hat.

What a mighty business is that? to stroak a mans beard!

'Tis such a trick, Philautus, which neither Prince Rupert's famous Dog, that eat up the Parliaments Ammunition, nor Banks's ingenious Horse could ever arrive to; as was before briefly hinted, in what was said about train of thoughts. And though it be not needful now to en­quire how far further; yet most cer­tainly in this Man differs from all other Creatures whatever.

In this! in what I prethee?

In Freewill, Sir.

I see not the least difference for my part. For, don't Horses, Dogs, and other bruit Beasts demur oft-times upon the way they are to take, the [Page 101] Horse retiring from some strange figure that he sees, and coming on again to avoid the spur. And what is it I pray more that a man does when he delibe­rates: but one while he proceeds to­ward action, another while retires from it, as the hope of greater good draws him, or the fear of greater evil drives him away. This I take to be the utmost that man can do.

This is nothing, Sir: for a Dog can do much more than this: for you may instruct him at the na­ming of the word States, to bark and rouse as if (without the King of France) he would pull 'em all down: and at the word King, to cringe and be as submissive as a Dutch-man in the days of Queen Elizabeth. But now comes the trick, Sir: I would have this same Dog two or three times in a week (not out of any Pique to Monarchy, or favour to Common­wealths, but only out of pure inno­cent mirth and phansy) be a little cross and humoursom; and swagger when he should sneak, and sneak [Page 102] when he should swagger. This is the Dog that I would have put into Doublet and Breeches too: and to be kept in the Tower for a precedent of Freewill. But, O the sufficient cause!

That's out of pure madness now: because you know well enough, that it utterly routs all that you can say either for Freewill, or immaterial substances. And therefore, seeing you make such a noise with your ab­surdities (or as you call them impos­sibilities) that you draw upon my opinion; the best way, Tim, will be to go to the poll: and then you shall see that, whereas you can find but two things impossible to be ex­plain'd, should there be nothing in the World besides matter: I have no less than four or five impossibilities (and all swingers too) to stake down against there being any thing else.

Yes, I do, in part, remem­ber what kind of impossibilities they are. In a sun-shine day, you get into [Page 103] the Balcone in Queen-street, and there you cry Matter, Matter, nothing but Matter. And, when the people come to see what's to do, you have nothing to tell them, but only, ‘Truly Gen­tlemen you look like persons of parts: and 'tis great pity that such as you are should be abus'd and spoil'd for want of the knowledge of motion. Therefore might I advise you I would have you well acquainted with what I have writ­ten concerning motion (of which no body has done any thing but my self,) and w [...]th the nature and properties of matter: for there's no such thing at all as an immate­rial substance: never stand to con­sider of it, for I am sure there is not: verily there is not: Faith and troth there's no such thing: upon the word of a Gentleman, a Mathe­matician, and a Traveller, there's no more immaterial substance either in England, France, or any other Coun­try whatever, than there is to be seen upon the back of my hand. [Page 104] 'Tis all a meer cheat, and a forgery of Sextons to raise the price and credit of Graves.’

And dost thou think, Tim, that I have fetch'd o're such brave men to my side, with nothing but so it is: verily so it is: Faith and troth, Gen­tlemen, 'tis just so. Do you think Gentlemen that stand so much upon their honour and reputation, won't demand better satisfaction than this?

They may demand what they will, but they'l find no better than what I tell you.

Why, Tim, don't I, in the first place, plainly shew, that an im­material substance is a meer dream and phantasm; an image or a thing behind the Looking-glass; a faiery and an old Wives tale; a small Creature of the brain, and a device of the King­dom of darkness?

No truly; I never found that you did shew any such thing at all, any further than meerly by say­ing so.

Why, man, to say so, as the [Page 105] case stands, is all one as shew it to be so. For an immaterial substance can't be shewn.

But, by your bragging, I thought it might have been shewn, that there was no such thing.

You don't at all take it, Tim. For upon that very account, that an immaterial substance can't be shewn, 'tis my second demonstration that there's no such thing.

Now, Sir, I think I have got it. Because an invisible thing is some­what wild, and can't endure to be star'd on long together (besides a great defluxion of rheum that it oc­casions in the Spectators eyes); there­fore there is no such thing.

I don't say so: but I say thus: whatever is (or rather we know to be) must some ways or other strike and af­fect our senses. For to know is to per­ceive by imagination; and to imagine is to perceiv [...] by sense.

Delicate! delicate! the que­stion is whether we have reason to believe that there's any substance in [Page 106] the World, differing from such as do affect our senses. No, no: says Phi­lautus, it can't be: it can't possibly be: for there's no reason to believe there's any thing in the World dif­ferent from what does affect our sen­ses. And so score up two demonstra­tions against immaterial substances. The basket will be full, by and by.

And well it may, for the big­est are all still behind. And therefore in the next place, Tim, let me know of thee which of all words dost thou think to be the most proper to sig­nifie the whole World?

Universe, as I take it, is counted the best.

Yes: 'tis so: and that word alone clearly cuts out all your imma­terial substances. For, what is the Universe, but the whole sum or aggre­gate, the [...] of all the matter that is in the World?

Very right, Sir: and there­fore whatever pretends to be (or, which is all one, to be in the Uni­verse) must cease being a dream and [Page 107] phantasm, and list it self under the notion and protection of matter. For the word Universe being made up of unum and versum: and unum being taken adverbially for only; and ver­sum by a kind of a figure, signifying matter (which, upon such an occa­sion it may be perswaded to do) whoever talks of immaterial substan­ces being in the World or Universe, does most absolutely confute him­self: for thereby he confesses there's only matter in the World. And up­on this I suppose, Philautus, rather than God Almighty should prove to be only a thing behind the Looking­glass, you have been pleas'd to ad­mit him also into your great pound of matter.

He must come in there, or else not be at all. But yet, because some giddy-headed Ecclesiasticks had prated against my Leviathan, there­fore, in my Appendix to't, I have shewn both from the best Authors, and Scripture it self, that God is so far from being immaterial, that he is [Page 108] much more material than any thing else.

I marry, Sir, this does it in­deed!

So it does, Tim, (to the shame of all your spiritual men) for 'tis plain that never any of your Roman Authors did speak considerately of God▪ but they always stiled him Maximus, as well as Optimus.

They do so: and if he be Maximus, to be sure he's Magnus, (and a great deal to spare) and every body knows of the alliance between magnitude and matter. Deus optimus Maximus. Most specially good! now if the Scripture proves but as well—.

'Tis no other than that fa­mous place of the Apostle; for in him we live and move and have our being. Upon which, I do thus reason: if all men be in God, and live in God, and move in God (which the Apostle plainly affirms) and that to every man there belongs so much bulk or quantity: he ought to be sent to the Hospital, that de­nies [Page 109] God to have quantity, for he has got within himself all the quantity that men have, and his own quantity besides.

So, so: Very well. Very well. Because the Apostle tells us, that God created all men, and gave them life and power to move; and by his daily providence continues these blessings to them: therefore we feed upon God, and swim and fly in God: just as wild fowl do, in St. James's Park. I wish with all my heart that the basket was full.

You need not wish for that, Tim: for I have one demonstration more against immaterial substances so very big, that 'tis enough to fill a basket alone. It lies in the very words themselves. Don't you see't, Tim?

Not in the least.

That's strange. You'l grant, I suppose, that an incorporeal body is a good rousing contradiction. Won't you?

Yes, Sir: 'tis one of the first head.

And, so is immaterial substance: for immaterial and incorporeal every man grants to be the same: and I'le undertake for body and substance being the same.

You don't prove it, Sir: do you?

No, no: it need not, it need not; for I'll swear they are the same.

Faith and troth would have come in excellently well there: for, by chance, all the controversie is, whether they be the same or not. ( i. e. whether there be a substance distinct from body) but that's no­thing: for, it need not, it need not, no, no: it need not. For, Philautus is the man that has farm'd all the custom for the signification of words: and suffers none to go out of his of­fice, but such as are seal'd: and be­cause your Apothecaries give out of the same pot, Mercury or quick-silver, which the customer pleases to call for: therefore Philau [...]us, in his great shop of words, has a box superscri­bed [Page 111] substance or body. And that's all his reason they are the same. And therefore, say I, if any Gentlemen be so overkind and complemental, as to gobble down such things as these (and these are the very best that I can find) for demonstrations against immaterial substances, by all means, let Philautus take such Gen­tlemen, and Tim will be content with their Estates.

I'll take no Gentlemen on my side, but such as are convinc'd by solid reasons: and by your leave, Tim, I can tell you of several of my opinion, that scorn to be convinc'd with any thing less: and that are very ready to affirm, that what Philautus has said, against incorporeal substances, has not been without some reason.

Yes, I remember one, Sir: who, in a late Preface to a Play, tells us just so: viz. 'tis not, says he, without some reason, that Philautus thinks incorporeal substances to imply a contradiction.

What (and be hang'd) would you not have a Gentleman speak truth?

O by all means, Sir: espe­cially such a Gentleman as this: for he is so hearty a friend to your opi­nion, that he has added much strength to't.

Matter! but I don't like that at all, that any man should be so con­ceited, as to think himself able to add any thing to what I have written.

Nay, I beseech you, Sir, be not offended: for 'tis so very little that he has said, that you may easily lay it aside. The great business is the novelty of the Argument.

Don't tell me, Tim, of any novelties: for I can't think of any thing against immaterial substances that I have omitted.

No? I pray of what profes­sion are they that have been your great adversaries in this point? Are they not Divines?

What then?

There's a business now, that you never thought of. For 'tis im­possible for a Divine to write, or so much as to think of a spirit, or im­material substance. 'Tis utterly im­possible: it implies a contradiction: 'tis Jargon, 'tis Tohu, and Bohu: the Kingdom of darkness, and all that.

Implies a contradiction? what a Fool art thou, and all that, to talk t [...]us? may not a Divine do, as well as other men, if they would but read and believe my Books; and such, as I got my learning out off?

I, I: you may think so: but you are much mistaken for all your cunning. For there is not one Di­vine of all the whole Tribe, be he Dea­con, or Priest, or Bishop, or Arch­bishop; but is most abominably phleg­matick. And 'tis a Poet alone, I say again, that 'tis the Poet who has brisk­ness, phansie, elevate and all that, that can discourse of such a subtle and gli­ding subject, as a spirit or imm [...]terial substance.

Divines all Phlegmatick! I [Page 110] [...] [Page 111] [...] [Page 96] [...] [Page 113] [...] [Page 114] have been as much affronted by Di­vines as any body: but they never affronted me into such an odd re­mark as this.

Therefore you never mind­ed the History of it, Philautus, as this Gentleman Poet has done. For let a man be of never such a frank and florid constitution: let him be all flame, all sky, all glory; yet no sooner does the Bishop lay upon his head his heavy and stupefying hand, but his phansie runs out at his heels, and the blood presently all turns. The benediction of a Deacon, indeed, is only Rheum and slaver: but, when he comes to be made Priest, it cur­dles all into utter snot and phlegm.

I prethee, Tim, don't tor­ment me with such abominable nau­seous stuff as this. What have I to do with what other people say?

But this Gentleman is your friend, Sir: and you must not disre­gard what a friend offers in your be­half: as yet you only have heard how Divines come to be so phlegmatick: [Page 115] you must needs also understand, how that, being so, they can't possibly discourse of an immaterial substance, or a spirit.

I care not for hearing it: for I am sure there can't be any sense in't.

O Sir very much: as much as any thing that you your self have said against immaterial substances. For the argument is taken out of the great art of Chymistry. Where, you know, nothing is at such variance with a spirit as phlegm. And there can happen no such scandal to a spi­rit, as to have any phlegm upon its skirts. And therefore your wary Druggists will scarce suffer a Clergy­man to come into their Shops, for fear they should bind and phlegmatize their spirits. And you can't, I sup­pose, have altogether forgot, how an whole brewing of strong waters, had like to have been quite spoil'd, only by a Clergy-man's Gown sleeve, that, in passing by, dangl'd into the door: and therefore 'tis not for a [Page 116] Clergy-man (whose heavy gown damps the apprehension of a spirit, as much as great top't stockings does the sound of a Theorbo) I say 'tis not for a Phlegmatick Clergy-man (who can only cough to an Organ, and thrum upon Thomas Aquinas) to think to raise himself to such a tall imagina­tion, as that of immaterial substan­c [...]s: for they are of a very thin and aiery composure; of a flooting and fluttering consideration: and when a man of gravity, sense, and judg­ment, goes dully about to invoke them, and to pore into their notion and condition, they presently all bush, and are as still as birds in an Eclipse or great thunder-clap. But let the trim, the gay, the sharp and pier­cing Poet get about him but half a score Violins, an huge Plume of Fea­thers on his Hat, and only thrip his fingers, and briskly say, Come my Daphne, and if there be an immate­rial substance within a mile, it pre­sently stoops to the Poetical Lure. But besides, Philautus.—

I prethee, Tim, let's have no besides: for I am already almost quite kill'd with this damnable Poet.

But you must not be tir'd, Sir: I profess 'tis uncivil: for, if you part with this Gentleman, I don't know where you'l get another to commend your reasons against immaterial sub­stances. And withal I would have you consider, Philautus, that 'tis a very unsafe thing to slight such a mans approbation: for, he may chance to have you into the next Prologue he makes; and a Poet, you know, is as ill as a whole Nest of Hornets: nine of which, they say, will sting an Horse to death. And therefore 'tis your interest, Philautus, to be kind and respectful: for, he has also done so much credit to your opinion, as to tell us that you have got some of the Fathers, on your side. And you know, Philautus, 'tis a great honour and security to have the Fathers on ones side.

A very kind Poet indeed! I know not how many years agon, I [Page 118] found by several Places, that Tertul­lian was of my opinion—

And you might have found as good ones in Caesar's Commenta­ries.

And now, this Gentleman ha­ving in some of my Books either read so, or met with somebody that told him so, he sends me word of it again.

I profess, Philautus, I am per­fectly of your mind: for I look upon't to be very indiscreet and dan­gerous for a Poet, who renounces all judgment and sense, and betakes himself wholly to the wing of phan­sie and imagination, to meddle with such dull and melancholy stuff as Fathers. For your Fathers doubtless (though they were counted pretty honest people) yet they were all ve­ry Phlegmatick. And some think that Levi himself was a kind of a blew, green, yellow man. So that there has been a constant succession of Phlegm and dullness in the Church from the very beginning. And there­fore, [Page 119] I say, I don't think that this Poet of ours durst ever venture to meddle with any Father, except such as Father Horace, Father Juvenal, and the like: for alas, Sir, one page of a right true Phlegmatick Father would so fetter, and jade his phansie, that 'twould scarce get into a good He­roick rhiming condition in a months time. But besides, Sir—

What have we more besides's still? is there no way, Tim, to per­swade thee to hang thy self?

Yes, Yes, Sir: I had done it long ago: only you sent no particu­lar directions; and so I deferr'd the business a little, least I should not have perform'd it according to your Philosophical mind. I pray, Sir, what do you mean by the word hanging?

Why, Tim, must thou needs have a definition of it, before thou goest about it?

O by all means, Sir, for, such a nice matter as that, if it be not done with all the consideration and curiosity imaginable, a man may [Page 120] chance to do himself a mischief, be­fore he be aware of it. And I am sure, Philautus, you can't but call to mind; that most of those tumults, and rebellions, deluges, and Earth­quakes that have happen'd in former ages, were chiefly because they were ages of great equivocation: not be­ing sufficiently mindful to signifie their meaning in setled words, which by the learned is call'd defining. And there­fore I wonder, Sir, that a man so ex­act as you are, of all things, should omit to give us a definition of hang­ing; it being a thing of so great mo­ment: and besides in the 18th page of your Leviathan you have laid so good a foundation sor't. For seeing politicks (as you there have it) are only the addition of pactions to find out mens duties: and Law is only the addition of Laws and facts, &c. what else can hanging be, but only the concluding or summing up of a man from the premises: from whence we learn the exact difference between condemning and hanging: viz. to be [Page 121] condemned is only to be cast: but to be hang'd is to be summ'd or cast up. And though breaking a Leg or Arm be not altogether of such great con­cern, as t'other thing we have been speaking of; yet, upon this accompt questionless it was, that the Author of the Medicinal definitions (lest a man in distress should be equivocated, and send for the Joiner instead of the Bone setter) like a most safe and care­ful Artist, brands Chirurgery after an everlasting manner: Chirurgery (says he) is the quick motion of an intrepid hand join'd with experience: or an artificial action used by the hand in phy­sick for some convenient intent.

What thou drivest at, Tim, I know not: unless it be, that thou wouldst have hanging to be as much a Science as Chirurgery. For, I grant thee, that most of those mistakes, foo­leries and absurd opinions that have crept into mens minds and their writ­ings have been, because they have ven­tur'd to reckon without setting [...]own their first Items right: i. e. without [Page 122] agreeing upon sound and substantial de­finitions: but I would not have thee therefore think, that, before I call for my Horse, I must needs examine the Osler how he is furnish'd as to the genus and specifical difference of sad­dle and bridle.

Truly, I thought that might have been your meaning. For you must now give me leave to tell you, Philautus, and that a little more plainly and largely too, than I could do last time we met (being in haste) that there is scarce any thing so mean and trivial, but you make it your bu­siness to puff it up either with some lofty and magnificent description, or else to fix upon't some smart or cu­rious character: and this is your con­stant practice from one end of your writings to the other.

Never was any thing more improperly and unseasonably ap­ply'd: it being my humour to med­dle with nothing but rarities, and things of fundamental moment: and whereas thou talkest, Tim, of my puf­fing [Page 123] definitions, and of my contriving curious characters; and, that I do this from one end to the other: I am confident that (had I patience to pose thee) thou dost not so much as understand either what 'tis to begin or end, or what is curiosity, or what 'tis to define: and yet this is Tim that accuses me of defining trifles.

I beseech you, Sir, cast away one small bit of those thousand years, you have still to live (for, you know, 'tis not good to be stinted) and hear me say. As for the bounds and mea­sures of beginning and end, I must step a little back, and consider there be two sorts of parts, middle and ex­tream: which being granted I do then proceed to set them out after this man­ner. That part which is between two other parts is call'd the middle: and that which is not between two other parts, is call'd an extream. Now, of the extreams, that which is first reck­on'd (I say of the extreams that there may be no mistake) that that very ex­tream so first reckon'd, in strictness [Page 124] of speech, is always to be look'd upon as the true beginning; and that which is last reckon'd to be the true ending. As for example, take me the number three: which is bounded on each side with an Unite: (for no number is actually infinite) now that Unite which stands before the middle Unite, (pro­vided it be first reckon'd) is to be look'd upon to be the beginning or first Unite of the number three: and that which stands after the middle Unite, the end or last unite of the number three. And now, Philautus, I am con­fident, that were you not wholly ta­ken up with commending your self, as severe a Judge as you are, you your self would be ready to confess this first task to be very accurately perform'd▪

Confess, Tim! I don't use to make Fools and Children my Confes­sors, but only those that have the su­pream Authority.

I thought I should be thus put of. For let a man be never so wary, and take never such care about [Page 125] his Items; and settle things with ne­ver so much exactness, yet one had as good grope for Guineas in an Oy­ster pit, as expect any approbation from Philautus.

Go on, Tim: thou shalt have, it upon my word by and by: 'twill come pouring down; approbation, or somewhat else.

I thank you, Sir; for one minutes commendations from a per­son that has kept a constant register of Consequences is worth an age-ful from any body else. And therefore I pro­ceed to the great mystery of curio­sity: concerning which (in short) I thus give out. Namely, that 'tis a desire to know why, and how. And I am sure there's no body can be so harsh and churlish, but must look upon this same why and how, as a most distinguishing and Philosophical Ear­mark. And therefore, if approbation be not just approaching, I don't ex­pect ever to deserve again.

Yes, Tim, 'tis just at hand, and therefore I do bless thee after [Page 126] this manner: reckoning thee, look­ing upon thee, and approving of thee—

I am glad to hear these words. They are every one of them words tending to renown. O, what a bles­sing it is to be allow'd of by the ancient! and to have an Item set upon a young man by an intrepid hand join'd with experience.

O 'tis a most inestimable blessing! and therefore, Tim, I do say once again, that I do set thee down, and accompt thee, and allow of thee for the greatest pilferer, shirk, and notion-stealer, that ever thiev'd out of a Book. For all these great truths, which thou hast now pre­tended to knock out of thy own noddle, are nothing else but my ve­ry own contemplations irreverently slaver'd out of thy mouth. And if I should try thee in fourty things more: I believe I should find it just so: i. e. thou wouldst either talk right down non sense, or steal from me. And therefore, seeing thou pretendest to [Page 127] judge what things are needful to be defin'd; do so much as tell me now what a definition is.

I remember some of them tell us, that a definition is that which explains a thing—

A definition that which explains a thing! that now is most horribly obscure, ridiculous, and absurd. A Definition, say you or they (for I think you are all alike) is that—is that? what that? that same, or t'other same? how shall any man in the World understand which of the thats you mean? again, you talk of your definition explaining a thing. After what manner, I prithee, Tim? what, as the Table-Cloth is explain'd upon the Table: or as butter is explain'd upon bread? thou surely wouldst have a man to be spread into Animal and Rationale. Therefore take it me altogether thus. Definitio est propo­sitio cujus praedicatum est subjecti re­solutivum ubi fieri potest, ubi non po­test exemplicativum. Instead of which you come in with your blind [Page 128] ids and quods, and I know not whats.

I pray, Sir, be not so angry with me; for 'twas not I that put in id est, instead of propositio; or that said, that the nature of man was to be unfoulded like a Napkin; whereas I perceive 'tis to be un­rop'd and unbound like a load of Fag­gots.

But you are always prating as if you favour'd such non-sense.

Truly, Sir, I must confess, that I never did much admire the temper of that wary Gentleman, who being requested to help to make an Inventory for his neighbour, would by no means be perswaded to engage in the business, till they had first agreed upon principles, and set down quid est fire shovel, quid tongs, and quid bellows. And very little better opinion have I of those, who obser­ving the Mathematicians to chuse their own terms, and to give them what signification they pleased, shall vainly do the like in all kind of [Page 129] discourses: defining things, that by custom have been long determin'd; or that have been sufficiently defin'd before. For my part, I always thought, that a man might have a very nigh ghessing, when he was in the Jail, and when not: till I look'd into the 164th. page of your Leviathan, and then I found, that 'twas almost as hard for a man to understand what a Prison was, as to get out of it. For, imprisonment (to define it fully and exactly) is all restraint of mo­tion, caus'd by an enternal obstacle, be it a House, which is call'd by the ge­neral name of a Prison, or an Island. Thus Du Val and such others, have (upon occasion) been restrain'd by the external obstacle of Newgate for some convenient intent. And, you know, Jack Lambert is at this time obstacl'd up at the Isle of—

Well: and what then?

E'en what you please, Sir.

Then I tell you, that though others may have observ'd, that a House may come under the notion [Page 130] of a Prison, yet, that an Island may do so likewise, was a great observa­tion of my own.

I do a little question it, Phi­lautus: for now I think on't, in an old merry song, there's a very nota­ble hint towards an Island being a Prison; and more than that too, there's direction given how, if need be, to break Prison. For the Poet does not only say, that the Land is a large Prison inclos'd with Sea: but adds further, that if we would but set lustily to't, and drink up the ob­stacle (i. e. the Ocean) we may set our selves [...]ree. But for all that, I don't absolutely say, that you stole your notion from the song.

I steal from songs: I that have a thousand things that never were in any Book whatever?

Ay, and a thousand too. I'd fain see any body shew me, either in Book, or Manuscript any thing like what you have in that Chapter of yours, call'd the nutrition and pro­creation of a Commonwealth.

Why, what have I there?

What have you there? why, Sir, you have there, not only a most exact division of all commodities into Native and Foreign: but (lest people should loose their time a Nut­megging, or Cloving in Enfield, or Epping Forest) you are pleas'd to acquaint us besides with the very essence, and nature of each commo­dity. A Native Commodity (say you, very gravely) is that which is to be had within the territory of the Com­mon-wealth. That sounds bravely. Within the territory of a Common­wealth. 'Twill almost furnish a shop alone. And a Foreign Commodity is that which is imported from without.

And is not this very true, and useful besides?

'Tis so very true, that I much question whether it be useful at all. For there's scarce an Apprentice, that has but had the improvement of twice wiping his Masters shoes, but would look upon't to be a most abo­minable affront, to be inform'd with [Page 132] such Ceremony, in such a trivial matter. And more than that, Phi­lautus, I am very confident, that should any man go about solemnly (as you do) to advise and caution one of these same Youngsters, in what immediately follows; and de­liver but his message in the common Town language, he would count himself so horribly abus'd, as pre­sently to cry huzza, and break all the Windows of such an Instructor.

Why, what is it I prethee?

The very bottom of the no­tion is only this, Sir: viz. that if we have, suppose, here in our Country, more Pudding than Plums, and other people have got more Plums than Pudding; the best way will be for the Pudding and the Plums to hold a correspondence. But now, Sir, from the consideration of Native and Foreign Commodities, to biggen this spare and lean notion into a Sir John: 'tis thus. And because (it be­gins as statelily, as a Preface to an Act of Parliament) there is no Terri­tory [Page 133] under the Dominion of one Com­mon wealth, except it be of very vast extent (that's to prevent objections) that produceth all things needful for the maintainance and motion of the whole body; and few that produce not something more than necessary; (here's the ground-work; now we build) the superfluous commodities to be had within become no more superfluous, but supply these wants at home by importa­tion of that which may be had abroad, either by exchange, or by just War, or by labour. For a mans labour also, is a commodity exchangeable for benefit, as well as any other thing. Yes, yes: without doubt 'tis. That is, if a man has a great superfluity of those native commodities of Legs and Arms, but as great a scarcity of those Foreign ones, call'd Cloths and Victuals; no­thing more frequent than for such an one, to betake himself presently to his flail, or spade, and to exchange benefits: full well knowing, that La­bour is a very good commodity, and as likely a way to fetch in money, [Page 134] as most things that have been inven­ted. And this politick remark of yours puts me in mind of a most ad­mirable Receit, that I have some­where met with, to awake a man that is asleep.

I suppose, Tim, if he ben't deaf, and be but call'd lowd enough; we need not go to the Queens Closet, nor Triggs secrets, to awake a man.

Call'd! but how shall he be call'd? that's the mystery, Philautus; what method, what means, what in­struments are the most natural, and proper for this purpose?

I prethee, has not the man a name: and can't you call him by that?

Call him by his name! what a deadly black, dull, phlegmatick story is that? call him by his name! (Dick, Jack, Robin, or any of the rest know, and can do that:) no, no, Philautus: you are quite out. The way is this. ‘Seeing that hu­mane Creatures as well as some others are not altogether free from [Page 135] the thraldom of sleep: and that it may be for the interest of some private person, or for the good of the Common-wealth, to loosen and redeem one so bound and captiva­ted: and seeing besides that there be several noises and sounds, that by different motion, do differently invade the Territories of the ear: from most diligent observation it has been at last concluded, that, of all noises or sounds, there is not any so fit and proper to awaken a humane Creature, as a humane voice: especially, if the proper name belonging to the humane Creature, be plainly pronounc'd by the humane voice. Roger: I come, Sir, cries he presently.’

And I prethee, Tim, how dif­fers this from what I said before?

Just as much, and no more, Sir, than as a thousand things, that you magnificently and flaringly dress up, differ from what Dick, Jack, or t'other says. Only, as I hinted just now, out of Mathematical apish­ness, [Page 136] you fall to your drawing, and deducing, and gathering a Company of trifles, which are not worth the while to pick up in the streets.

Timothy, Timothy, I shall make thee repent of this, Boy. For it plain­ly shews, that thou dost in no ways understand the greatest instance of sagacity, and a mature judgment: and that the highest advancement, and very top of reasoning, is to make discreet, and holding infe­rences.

O, Sir, that is a most admi­rable perfection indeed! and how far you transcend all others in it, one may plainly see, in the tenth page of your Leviathan. Where (having in the Chapter before carefully laid down, that much memory, or memory of many things is call'd experience;) you thence firk out this for a great certainty: namely, that by how much one man has more experience of things past than another, by so much also he is more prudent, and his expectations the seldomer fail him. As suppose, [Page 137] Sir, a Taylor makes a Gentleman a Suit of Cloths; but sees not a farth­ing of money, but only a very sweet promising countenance. And, upon the same terms, he proceeds to a second, a third, and a fourth. Most certainly this sweet promising coun­tenance will take much better with a fresh Taylor, than with the old beaten Dog of much memory: for he has four very bad consequences, already upon the file. And there­fore, (as you have it in the same page) as long as we live, we must note this; that, he that is most vers'd and studied in the matters he ghesses at, is certainly the best ghesser. And that, be­cause he hath most signs to go by. From whence it follows, that though no sign is absolutely certain; yet (we may take this for certain) that the oftner the Consequences have been observ'd, the less uncertain is the sign. As sup­pose, the Dun-Cow turns up her tail, and frisking about the Close im­mediately upon that we have a show­er of rain: this being the first con­sequence, [Page 138] 'tis possible that the Farmer may venture his Corn abroad, for all the Dun-Cow. But suppose her phansie continues; (for I can't think, that the meer motion of her tail can physically pull down the Clouds) and that the same consequence is strictly observ'd for a whole year together; Will. Lilly may send his Almanacks to Market, and so forth; but, upon my word, the Dun-Cow will send them home again with rattle. Men may talk of finding out this, and finding out that: but there is not one of a ▪thousand that knows how to make the best of a notion. That is, how to nurse it, and brood it, and improve it.

'Tis true enough, Tim. For a meer Fool may by chance, stum­ble upon a vast truth. But the great emolument thereof lies wholly in the inferences.

Yes, yes: there lies all the skill. For, though a man of less sa­gacity than your self, might possibly have blunder'd upon what you say [Page 139] (Le. p. 36.) viz. Of all discourse, govern'd by desire of knowledge, there is at last an end either by attaining or giving over. Yet there is no body but Phi­lautus (who can make notions breed, long after Geese have done laying) could ever have thence disclos'd, that which follows: viz. that in the chain of discourse, wheresoever it be interrupted, there is an end for that time. I profess, Philautus, 'twas very well for you, that you did not make these politi [...]k inferences, in Hopkins's days. For upon my word, (as great an unbeliever, as you are in his pro­fession) he'd have had you into his inquisition, and tryed whether you would have swum, or sunk. You talk of deducing and inferring! whereas in the 3d. Chapter of your Book de Cive, you make such a no­table remark, abou [...] putting things to arbitration, that to me is right down witchery and divination.

Why, Tim, is it not highly reasonable and convenient, that if two parties disagree about matter of [Page 140] right, it should be referr'd to some third indifferent person, call'd an Arbiter.

Very reasonable and conve­nient, Sir. And accordingly you write it down for your fifteenth law of na­ture. But the divination lies in hatch­ing out of this fifteenth, a sixteenth law of nature. viz. that no man must be judge in his own cause. Which sixteenth law comes into the World, after this manner. Seeing that when two parties disagree about a matter of right, it is a law of nature that they should leave it to the determination of a third: we gather (say you) what? that this third must not be one of the two. No, no: that would be most horrible foul play indeed: that when two disagreeing parties had taken pains to chuse a third, and had be­spoken a very good Dinner: no sooner does this third get into the Chair, but whip goes he into one of the two; and there's all the fat in the fire.

This now is so abominably [Page 141] ridiculous, that 'tis ten times worse than positive non-sense.

But hold a little, Philautus; you should have ask'd first, whose it was. For, in good truth, this same of the third being none of the two, is one of your own Mathematical gatherings. And because (I know) you love your own words, better than any bodies else; you shall have them ex­actly as they stand, p. 49. upon condition you'l trust me another time. But from this ground (say you) that an Arbiter or Judge is chosen by the differing parties to de­termine the Controversie, we gather (in Latin 'tis colligitur) that the Ar­biter must not be one of the parties. Do you see Philautus? 'tis plainly your opinion, that the third per­son that is chosen by the two differ­ing parties, must not be one of the two that chose. For it takes two and one more, to make a third. And besides, 'twould be a very inconve­nient thing; as you proceed to de­monstrate it, in the same Article. [Page 142] For, say you, every man is presum'd to seek what is good for himself natu­rally, and what is just only for peace sake and accidentally; and therefore cannot observe the same equallity com­manded by the law of nature, so exact­ly as a third man would do. No, no: he can't observe it: nothing near so exactly. For supposing the third should be one of the two, to be sure he, after a few Complements, would so utterly forget that he was a third, that he would e'en deal as archly for [...]imself, as if he were meerly one of the two. So that having throughly weigh'd, not only the great absur­dity of three being two, but also the great mischief that might thence arise in a Common-wealth; we safely ga­ther, that the third neither can, nor ought to be one of the two.

I shall maintain, Tim, against thee, and all such bold faces, that to chuse an Arbiter is a fundamental law of nature: and that it was the Philosopher of Malmsbury that first found it out; because no body be­fore [Page 143] him had gathered it according to art.

I, I; there lies the skill, Phi­lautus; to nick a notion, and to gather it according to art: to take it at the critical minute, and register it upon the right file. As (in the 68. p. of your Leviathan) I remember you do the business of covenanting with Bruits.

Why, Tim, can any Cove­nant, or bargain be made between a Man and a Beast? is it not demon­strable, both from the nature of a Covenant, and the nature of a Beast, that there can't possibly be any such thing?

'Tis very demonstrable, Sir. For suppose a man proffers his Dog Jowler a good large piece of bread; upon condition that he skips clea­verly over his stick. Here seems in­deed a tacite kind of promise, that the Dog should have the piece of bread for his pains; ( a Dogs labour being a Commodity exchangeable for benefit as well as a mans:) but, by [Page 144] reason the Master only held forth the piece of bread, and did not orally say to the Dog; here, Jowler, skip over this stick, and thou shalt cer­tainly have this piece of bread; or if he had said so, yet Jowler being not able to take him at his word, and to say done Master; (by which the right of the bread might be trans­ferr'd upon performance of Cove­nants:) thereupon it is that, if the Master either eats the bread himself, or gives it to any other Dog (though never so little deserving) Jowler can never recover of his Master this piece of bread, or any other thing to the value of it, either at Common-Law, or Chancery. And why? because (as you very learnedly gather it, in the foremention'd place) seeing that bruits understand not our speech, they understand not: (all understanding being nothing but knowledge of words:) and if they don't unde [...]stand, they can neither accept of any transla­tion of right from us, nor can translate any right to us; and without mutual acceptation [Page 145] there's no Covenant. There now lies the point of law: without mu­tual acceptation there's no Covenant. This place most certainly deserves a cut; 'tis so mathematically mana­ged. And therefore, in the next edi­tion, I'd have Jowler pictur'd, jump­ing at the overture of his Master.

'Twould be a better sight by half, Tim, to see Jowler and you hang'd up together for a couple of Curs. For what more easie, than out of the best Book that ever was printed, to pick three or four places; and, by forgery and malice, to re­present them as trivial, and con­temptible?

'Tis not three or four places, or three or four hundred that I should have much minded: and whereas you talk of representing, &c. there is so little need of any such thing, that this kind of gullery and affecta­tion discovers it self in every page almost of your Writings. What for­gery or malice, I pray, is required, to make what you say, Lev. p. 29. [Page 146] most notoriously idle, and frivo­lous?

Why, what do I there say?

As in your Humane nature, you invite down the Jocqueys (which I formerly told you of) to see your race of the passions: so here you call together the School-Masters; and, much to their astonishment, shew them the great harmony that is be­tween the passions, and the several Moods of a Verb. First, say you, generally all passions may be express'd indicatively; as I love, I fear, I joy, I deliberate, I will, I command: up­on my word, the Indicative Mood has a fine run on't: 'tis in at all. But some of them have particular expressi­ons by themselves; for instance, deli­beration is expressed subjunctively; which is a speech proper to signifie sup­positions with their consequences. What a brave definition is there of the Subjunctive Mood! the Subjunctive Mood is a speech proper to signifie sup­positions with their consequences. The language of desire and aversion is im­perative: [Page 147] as, fall on, bear back: the language of Vain-glory, &c. is Opta­tive; as Utinam, or would to God, I had a piece of Bread and Butter round about the Loaf: but of the de­sire to know there is a peculiar expres­sion, call'd Interrogative. A very pe­culiar one indeed! ('tis great pity there is no Interrogative Mood:) and therefore, if a man be either in haste to know, or eager to know, the best way will be to make use of that same peculiar expression, call'd inquiring or asking: for it will take some consi­derable time for another man to ghess, what I have a mind to know. Again, Sir, when you advise such as have the supream Authority to affix punish­ments to the breach of their laws, you do very well: but when you ad­vise them further ( Civ. p. 207.) to put those laws sometimes into exe­cution; and withall so heartily prove the convenience thereof, I can't see, but that a man without either forgery or malice, may make shift to smile. The fear, say you, whereby men are [Page 148] deterred from doing evil, ariseth not from hence, namely, because penalties are set, but because they are executed; (and that's the reason that people are not so much afraid of Paper and Ink, as Rope, Ladder, and the conse­quences thereof:) because, as you proceed, we esteem the future by what is past; seldom expecting what seldom happens. And therefore, man being of a collecting nature, he certainly ought to be hang'd for a Coward, who fears to be added to the law for stealing, if no body upon that ac­count, had ever been added before him; because he reckons badly, and expects that which never, as yet, came to pass. But I shall not at present, Philautus, trouble my self any fur­ther to set forth how laboriously you argue, when 'tis to no purpose. Only I can't forbear shewing some little respect to one thing more, be­cause you so accurately discuss it.

All that I ever writ, has been very accurate.

Yes, Sir: but this is not only [Page 149] very accurate, but of extraordinary concernment. For it removes a very considerable objection against Go­vernment. viz. if it be so necessary for the Peace of Mankind, that men should confer all their power and strength upon one man, or one as­sembly of men, that may reduce all their wills, by plurality of voices, unto one will; how comes it about then that Bees (and such like Crea­tures) live so quietly and content­edly, without either chusing one su­pream unlimited buzzer, or one As­sembly of Bees, that by plurality of buzzes may be brought to consent in one buz? Of this there be no less than six very remarkable reasons: (no body but Philautus could have found out half so many:) In the first place, 'tis to be considered, that amongst Bees there's no contestation of honour and preferment: if one Bee has a mind to be made Burgess or Knight of the Shire; march on, say the rest: Honey is a very good thing. Now it is not honour or pre­ferment, [Page 150] but the contestation that does all the mischief in a Common­wealth. It being that alone which begets envy and hatred, and these beget sedition and quarrelling, and quarrelling begets War, and War in time spoils Peace. We may possibly, now and then, have observ'd a cou­ple of Bees wrastling two or three falls or so; where sometimes one would be above, and sometimes ano­ther: but we are to know, that in strictness of speech, this being above is not to be call'd preferment, nor this endeavouring to be above contestation of preferment: because preferment (to say no more of it now) is a kind of a notable business. In the next place, we are to consider, that, that which makes men to quarrel unless aw'd by some supream power, is their esteeming of those things only which have somewhat of eminence in the enjoyment. But 'tis not so with Bees: for suppose one of them grows fatter, or proves taller by the head and shoulders than all the rest; [Page 151] notwithstanding this, there's no need o [...] chusing a Hive-holder, to keep them from mutinying: they having no such as custom to register their Sta­tures upon the Wainscot, or Mantle­tree; as man does, who is a compa­ring Creature, and relishes nothing but Phoenixes and eminencies. In the third place, that which secures Bees from waging War is, that they don't keep any Scales in the House, to weigh how much Honey every Bee administers towards the Winter­stock: or if they did, they having not so much the use of reason, as men, are not able to weigh it. For to weigh is only to ponderate, or com­pare reasons. But, in the Section be­fore, it was proved that man alone was a comparing Creature. There­fore to bed Bees, for fighting is a va­nity. Fourthly, though Bees have some use of voice to signifie their mutual affections, and to buz and hum out one another to publick duty; yet, they having never read either Seton or Keckerman, want the art of [Page 152] disposing these buzzes and hums into propositions; and also of managing those propositions into eloquent and crafty orations. So that, suppose some factious, aspiring, innovating Bee should go about to disturb the Peace, and make an uproar; yet because this Bee has not a true humane tongue (which is as very a Trumpet of War and Sedition, as a Warming-pan is of Peace and settlement, to a swarm of those Creatures) though it be as big as an Elephant it can never like Peri­cles, by its elegant speeches so thun­der and lighten as to confound the Hive. And therefore sleep on Bees. Fifthly, give but Bees their belly full, and set them out of the wind; and libel them, and lampoon them as long as you will, all this breeds no ill blood: and the reason is, because as yet they never read Philautus's Poli­ticks; and so can't distinguish be­tween injury and harm. Hive and Honey! What times should we have, if these Stingers should once but find out the difference between injury [Page 153] and harm? Sixthly, and lastly (I am sorry for this lastly: what would I give for six such more) seeing that neither the present Bees, nor their Predecessors, did ever take either the O [...]th of Allegiance, or the Solemn League and Covenant, or the Engage­ment, or the Oath upon Triplow-heath (where they say there grows many a sweet bit) what need is there, or can there be, for these Creatures to chuse any supream Magistrate to keep them in awe; when as they did ne­ver either swear, or covenant or en­gage to keep any thing at all? and therefore finally, good night Bees; for the Moon is in the Flock-bed.

All this is most abominable forgery.

If you had not said so, 'tis like some of your friends might. And therefore let's have pure Philautus, word for word, as he discusses the business in the 77th. p. de Cive.

And won't you put in none of your own wild, non-sensical Jim­cracks, to interrupt the drift, and con­texture of my reasons?

No no, Sir: I am so far from any such thing that, to give your reasons all possible advantage, I'll take in Preface and all. The point to be debated in the Margent stands thus, viz. why the government of some bruit Creatures stands firm in concord alone, and not so of men. To decide which we make this preparation. Aristotle reckons among those animals, which he calls politick, not man only, but divers others; as the Ant, the Bee, &c. which though they be destitute of reason, by which they may contract, and submit to government, notwith­standing by consenting, (that is to say) ensuing or eschewing the same things, they so direct their actions to a com­mon end, that their meetings are not obnoxious unto any seditions. Yet is not their gathering together a civil Go­vernment, and therefore those animals not to be termed political, because their Government is only a consent, or many wills concurring in one object, not (as is necessary in civil Govern­ment) one will. It is very true, that [Page 155] in those Creatures, living only by sense and appetite, their consent of minds is so durable, as there is no need of any thing more to secure it, and (by con­sequence) to preserve peace among them, than barely their n [...]tural incli­nation. But among men the case is other­wise. Now begin the six reasons. For first among them there is a con­testation of honour and preferment; among Beasts there is none: whence hatred and envy, out of which arise Sedition and War, is among men, among Beasts no such matter. Next, the natural appetite of Bees, and the like Creatures, is conformable, and they desire the common good which among them differs not from their private; but man scarce esteems any thing good which hath not somewhat of eminence in the enjoyment, more than that which others do possess. Thirdly, those Crea­tures which are void of reason, see no defect, or think they see none, in the administration of their Common-weals; but in a multitude of men there are many who supposing themselves wiser [Page 156] than others, endeavour to innovate, and divers Innovators innovate divers ways, which is a meer distraction, and civil War. Fourthly, these Brute Crea­tures, howsoever they may have the use of their voice to signifie their affecti­ons to each other, yet w [...]nt they that same art of words which is necessarily required to those motions in the mind, whereby good is represented to it as be­ing better, and evil as worse than in truth it is; But the tongue of man is a Trumpet of War, and Sedition; and it is reported of Pericles, that he some­times by his elegant speeches thundered, and lightened, and confounded whole Greece it self. Fifthly, they cannot distinguish between injury and harm; Thence it happens that as long as it is well with them, they blame not their fellows: But those men are of most trouble to the republick, who have most leisure to be idle; for they use not to contend for publick places before they have gotten the Victory over hunger, and cold. Last of all, the consent of those brutal Creatures is natural, that [Page 157] of men by compact only (that is to say) artificial; it is therefore no matter of wonder if somewhat more be needful for men to the end they may live in peace. Now am I as much taken with these six reasons, as the Gentleman was with his good piece of road. I profess, I have a great mind to ride 'em all over again: they are so in­comparably close, so smooth, and so pleasant.

Yes, yes, without doubt, Tim, set but such a one as thou art on Horse-back, and there will be riding. Thou talkest of close reasoning! thou never saidst in thy whole life one line of such deep sense, as that which just now thou didst repeat.

But you have said many things as deep, Sir; as one may plainly see by your Leviathan, p. 86. where you thought the mooting this point of the Bees to be so very ne­cessary for the understanding the causes, the Generation and the defi­nition of a Common-wealth that; with great delight to your self, we [Page 158] have all the foremention'd reasons over again. And seeing you are so very much delighted, I am as con­formable as any Bee; and am resolv'd to be delighted too. Thus then: It is true, that certain living Creatures; as Bees, and Ants, live sociably one with another, (which are therefore by Aristotle numbred amongst Political Creatures;) and yet have no other di­rection, than their particular judg­ments and appetites; nor speech, whereby one of them can signifie to another, what he thinks expedient for the com­mon benefit: and therefore some man may perhaps desire to know, why man­kind cannot do the same. (I don't believe any man in the World had ever such an odd appetite, unless he had the green sickness:) To which I answer,

First, That men are continually in competition for honour and dignity, which these Creatures are not; and con­sequently amongst men there ariseth on that ground, envy and hatred, and fi­nally War; but amongst these not so.

[Page 159] Secondly, That amongst these Crea­tures, the common good differeth not from the private; and being by nature enclined to their private, they procure thereby the common benefit. But man, whose joy consisteth in comparing him­s [...]lf with other men, can relish nothing but what is eminent.

Thirdly, That these Creatures, having not (as man) the use of reason, do not see, nor think they see any fault, in the administration of their common busi­ness: whereas amongst men, there are very many, that think themselves wiser, and abler to govern the publick, better than the rest; and these strive to re­form and innovate, one this way, ano­ther that way; and thereby bring it into distraction and civil War.

Fourthly, That these Creatures, though they have some use of voice, in making known to one another their desires, and other affections; yet they want that art of words, by which some men can re­present to others, that which is good, in the likeness of evil; and evil, in the likeness of good; and augment, or di­minish [Page 160] the apparent greatness of good and evil; discontenting men, and troub­ling their peace at their pleasure.

Fifthly, Irrational Creatures cannot distinguish between injury, and da­mage; and therefore as long as they be at ease, they are not offended with their fellows: whereas man is then most troublesom, when he is most at ease: for then it is that he loves to shew his wisdom, and contro [...]l the actions of them that govern the Com­mon-wealth.

Lastly, The agreement of these Crea­tures is natural; that of men, is by Co­venant only, which is artificial: and therefore 'tis no wonder if there be somewhat else required (besides Cove­nant) to make their agreement con­stant and lasting; which is a common power, to keep them in awe, and to di­rect their actions to the common bene­fit. I wish, with all my heart, I could tell where to happen of these six reasons, but once more: for I am as fresh, methinks, as when I first set out. Never in my life did I meet with [Page 161] such a Company of good words, so artificially put together, to no pur­pose. And yet, now I think of it Camoraldo, the great Spanish Politi­cian gave a friend of his six very good directions for Travelling. If (says he to his friend) you be not sufficiently content with such know­ledge of Foreign Countries, as Maps and Historians do afford you; but that you have a mind to peruse the Countries themselves (or at least some of them) with your very own eyes; in the first place, I do advise that into such Countries, as you have a mind to peruse after the suppos'd manner, you send not your man, but go your self. In the next place, when you be once fix'd and determin'd to go; it will be very requisite then to think of going: and that either by the motion of your own feet, or by the motion of the feet of one Horse, or of more Horses (as by Tumbrell, Cart, Waggon, Coach,) or by no Horse; as by the motion of Boat, Ship, or by some other means and in­struments [Page 162] of motion. For, Native and Foreign being altogether oppo­site, there's no possible passing from one extream to another without motion. Thirdly, When you be once come (according to the directions laid down in the foregoing Article) to that Town or City that you have most mind to see and remember; be sure you stay longest there: for the longer you stay, the more you may look; and the more you look, the more you'l see; and the more you see, the more you'l remember: as was said before, he that has most signs to ghess by, is certainly the best ghesser. Fourthly, such notices and informations of things as you intend to take in at the eye, chuse rather to do it in the day time, than in the night. For though the eye and ob­ject be full out as big, after as before the Sun is down; yet by reason of the many mists, vapours, Hobgob­lins and Witches that trade in the night, the skie becomes much thick­en'd; and thereupon observations [Page 163] are rendered much more weak and uncertain. Fifthly, If after particu­lar observations of Houses, Churches, Cathedrals, &c. (made at the time above prescrib'd) you should have a mind, (the day, suppose, before you go out of Town) to sum up all, and at one view to take the dimensi­ons of your whole improvements; don't you go to Bed, and draw the Curtains Close about you: for they'l refract and scare the light; nor into the bottom of a well; (as some by equivocation have done, because Stars are thence best seen:) but climb you me some Steeple, Tower, or other high place: for though it must be granted that the higher you go, the further you'l be from the earth; yet the further you are from the earth (so you be not too far) the more you'l see, in all probability, of those things that are built upon the earth. Sixthly, and Lastly, Suppose you don't travel by a proxy, but go your self in person, and perform all according to the laws of motion, and [Page 164] set a work those laws of motion more or less according as 'tis worth the while to stay, and that you don't make your observations at midnight, nor out of the Cellar; then, quoth Camoraldo to his friend, as a Crown to all, I do advise, that you take a Table-book in your pocket, or some other little portable instrument to register consequences: for though it be said of Julius Caesar (who for a need could thunder and lighten as well as Pericles) that he never for­gat any thing but injuries; yet it does not, you know, fall to one mans share of fourty to be so great an Em­perour, as Julius Caesar: and though Paper, Parchment, and Velam be all subject to the teeth of time, envy, and rats; yet by no means is the me­mory wholly to be trusted, being oft­times as treacherous, as a sieve or scummer.

The teeth of time! 'tis very good really: and so is a treacherous sieve or scummer. But for the me­mory to keep Garrison is much bet­ter; [Page 165] especially, if it be but like [...] sieve, or scummer: because the enemy may pass and repass at the little Port­holes. Doubtless this Cam [...]raldo was a most excellent States-man. I wonder, Tim, where thou pickest up such abominable, metaphorical-simi­li [...]udinarian-Rascals. (that simili­tudinarian is not a just word, but I han't patience to make a better now:)

Why, Sir, you know [...]hat a little slice or so of a trope, or figure, gives a fine relish and hogoo. 'Tis as good, Sir, as an anchovy or shalot.

A relish and a hogoo! to what I prethee? to a Treatise of Philoso­phy or Dominion: or to directions for travelling, by which Gentlemen may come to understand the Gene­ratio [...] of a Common-wealth, and after­wards become helpful in Govern­ment? I'le give leave to a Jugler, or Barber to put into their common tittle tattle, their relishes and hogoos, their anchovie [...] and shalots: but when Divine [...] shall tell you ( Lev. p. 17.) [Page 166] of in-powred vertue, and in-blown vertue (as if vertue were tunn'd into a mans mind, just as new drink is into the Vessel) and of this and that man being extraordinary assisted and in­spired: as if it were not more credit for a man to speak wisely from the principles of nature and his own me­ditation, than to be thought to speak like a Bagpipe by inspiration: I say, when such things as these creep into serious reckonings, and Philosophical Bills; then, then's the mischief. [...] perceive, Tim, that thou never didst read the 5th Chapter of my Levia­than: for if thou hadst, thou wouldst have there found, that amongst the many causes of the absurd opinion [...] that have been in Philosophy, there has not been any greater, than the use of Metaphors, Tropes, and other Rhe­torical figures, instead of words pro­per. For (as I there go on) though it be lawful to say, (for example) in common speech the way goeth or leadeth hither, or thither, the Proverb says this or that (whereas ways cannot go, [Page 167] nor Proverbs speak;) yet in reckoning, and seeking of truth, such speeches are not to be admitted.

What, neither back-stroak, nor fore-stroak? I know, Philautus, that you have spent much time in this sort of reckonings; and there­fore you must needs be a notable ac­comptant in Philosophy: but when I find (as [...] do in your Treatise, call'd Computation) that a Proposition is the first step i [...] the progress of Philosophy, that a Syllogism is a compleat pace, trot, or gallop in Philosophy; being made by the addition of steps: and that method is the high-way that leads to Philosophy: (where note, though 'tis not proper, in reckoning, to say that the way either goes or leads; yet I perceive that Propositions and Syllogisms may both walk and gal­lop, provided it be in the way to Philosophy:) again, Sir, when I read ( Levi. p. 108.) that a Common-wealth is an artificial man, ('tis as like him, as ever it can look: 't has got just de Father's nose, and de powting lip) [Page 168] or an aggregate of Puginellos made for the attaining of peace; and that the civil laws are only artificial Chains; (so the Dutch broke the civil Law that went cross the River at Chatham) which men, by mutual Covenants, have fastned at one end, to the lips of t [...]e man, or Assembly, to whom they have given the Soveraign power; and at the other end to their own ears. (I'd scarce have the place to be so fastned:)

What if I do say this: is this like the teeth of time, and your sieves and scummers?

Moreover, Sir, when you in­struct us ( Lev. p. 115.) in all the se­veral sorts of Systemes of people (this Systeme I look upon to be a kind of Bastard anchovy, or wild shalot) that belong to a Common-wealth; and how that these systemes resemble the similar parts of a body natural: and if they be lawful systemes, they are as the muscles of the body: but if un­l [...]wful, they are Wens, Biles, and Apo­stems engendred by the unnatural con­flux of evil humours: and how that a [Page 169] conflux of people to Market, or a Bull­baiting, though it be a lawful systeme, yet 'tis an irregular systeme, by reason 'tis not order'd by law which Dog shall play first; or which man shall sell the first rowl of Ginger bread: and that the Corporation of Beggars, Thieves, &c. though they may be regular sy­stemes (having a representative) yet they are not to be looked upon as law­ful Systemes, being not as yet allow'd of by publick authority: the brick shall be, out of hand, burnt for the Halls, against the Parliament meet next.

What of all this?

Nay, I pray, Sir, don't in­terrupt me: let me make an end of my sentence: and that as the several systemes of people are the similar parts of a Common-wealth, so the publick Ministers are the organical part of a Common-wealth, resembling the Nerve [...] and tendons that move the several limb [...] of a body natural: and that publick persons appointed by the Soveraign, (this is all Mathematick [...]) to instruct, [Page 170] or judge the people, are such memb [...] of a Common-wealth, as may be fi [...]ly compared to the Organs of voice in th [...] body natural: and that the service of Sheriffs, Justices of the peace, &c. is answerable to the hands in the body na­tural. And that if a man be sent into another Country secretly to explore th [...] counsels and strength; (i [...] he com [...] only to see, he may do well enough; but if he comes to explore, and b [...] catch'd; he may chance [...]o be hang'd:) he is to be look'd upon as a Minister o [...] the Common wealth, though but pri­vate; and may be compar'd to an ey [...] in the body natural: (and very well, for a blind man makes a very bad Scout:) but those publick Ministers that are appointed to receive the Peti­tions, or other informations of the peo▪ ple, are, as it were, the publick ear of the Common-wealth: (I profess, this artificial man thrives bravely; I hope the cheeks, and the chin of the Com­mon-wealth will come on by and by:) besides, Sir, when I look—

What, han't you done your sentence yet?

Alas, Sir, I have but just be­gun: my hand is but just in: I say, when I look into the 24th. Chapter (above-cited) of the nutrition and procreation of a Common-wealth; and observe, how that the commodities of sea and land are the nourishment of the Common-wealth; and t [...]at propriety or the constitution of meum a [...]d tuum is the distribution of the materials of this nourishment; and that buying, sel­ling, &c. is the concoction of the commodities of a Common wealth; which concoction is, as it were, the sanguification of the Common-wealth, being perform'd by money, which is the very blood of a Common-wealth: (for as natural blood is made of the fruits of the earth, and circulating, nourishes, by the way, every member of the body na­tural: so money is made out of the fruits of mens labours, and running up to Town, and then down again into the Country, nourishes those po­litick members, that live upon the road:)

Surely now you have done.

And when I observe further; how that the Collectors, Receivers, and Treasurers are the Conduits and Vessels by which this blood (of money) is con­vey'd to publick use: and that the pub­lick Treasury is as the heart of the Com­mon-wealth; (so that, as the veins re­ceiving the blood from the several parts of the body, carry it to the heart; where being made vital, the heart by the arteries sends it out again to enliven and enable for motion all the members of the same: so the Collectors, &c. re­ceiving the venose money, out of the several parts of the Country, carry it to the heart politick; where being vitaliz'd, it does strange things when it comes again into the Country:) and that if a Common-wealth ben't strictly dieted, but highly fed, how that it spawns and brings forth little Common-wealths, or Children of a Common-wealth: (thus the artificial man of Spain laid about him, and begot (the Child)▪ Hispa­niola; and if Hispaniola should after­wards grow up to have a little one, then would Spain be a Grandfather.)

Certainly this sentence will have an end at some time or other.

Pray, Sir, don't speak to me; for I am in great haste, and have a great way still to go: once again, I say, when I look also into the 29th Chap­ter of your Leviathan; and there read of the several infirmities and di­seases that this artificial man, the Com­mon-wealth, is subject to: (for, we must know, that an artificial man, as well as other men, is very much out of sorts sometimes:) and how that some proceed from defectuous procrea­tion; (as when an old pockie, gouty, crasie Common-wealth begets another, by reason of the mala stamina, or vi­cious Conception, the Child Common­wealth either comes to an untimely death, or by purging out the ill quality, breaks out into Biles and Scabs:) some from seditious doctrines; such as kil­ling a Tyrant is lawful; which venom, say you, I will not doubt to compare to the biting of a mad dog; (no man in the World would ever have doubted of it:) which is a Disease [Page 174] Physitians call Hydrophobia or fear of water: for as he that is so bitten, has a continual torment of thirst, and yet abhorreth water; and is in such an estate as if the poyson endeavour'd to convert him into a dog; (in a still night, you may hear one, so con­verted▪ bark almost srom Dover to Calis:) so when a Monarchy is once bitten to the quick, by those democra­tical Writers (and the teeth of time) that continually snarl at the estate; it wanteth nothing more than a strong Mo­narch, which nevertheless out of a cer­tain Tyrannophobia, or fear of being strongly governed, when they have him, they abhor: such likewise is the opinion of those that hold there may be two Au­thorities in the same Common-wealth, Temporal, and Spiritual; which di­sease, say you, not unfitly may be compar'd (it sits to a Cows thumb) to the Epilepsie, or falling sickness (which the Jews took to be one kind of possession by spirits) in the body natu­ral. For as in this Disease, there is an unnatural Spirit, [...]r wind in the head [Page 175] that obstructeth the roots of the nerves, and moving them violently, taketh a­way the motion which naturally they should have from the power of the Soul in the brain, and thereby causeth vio­lent and irregular motions (which men call Convulsions) in the parts; insomuch that he that is seised there­with, [...] down sometimes into the water, a [...]d sometimes into the fire, as a man depriv'd of [...]is senses; (a ve­ry good lecture upon the Epilepsie:) so also in the body Politick, when the spiritual and windy power, moveth the members of a Commonwealth, by the terrour of punishments, and hope of re­wards (which are the nerves of it,) otherwise than by the civil power (which is the soul of the Common­wealth) they ought to be moved; (this still is pure Mathematicks) and by strange, and hard words suffocates their understanding, it must needs thereby distract the people, and either overwhelm the Commonwealth with op­pression, or cast it into the fire of a ci­vil war.

What no end yet?

Such again, say you, is the opinion of those that are for mixt go­vernment: making the power of levy­ing money, which is the nutritive fa­culty of a Common-wealth (that is sup­posing blood nourishes; for if it don't money is clearly cut out:) run one way: the power of conduct and com­mand, which is the motive faculty (that's well enough, because conduct and command is perform'd by the motion of legs and lips:) run another way: and the power of making laws, which is the rational faculty (that's well enough also; because of law and reason:) a third way: which ir­regularity of a Common-wealth to what Disease, say you, in the natural body of man, I may exactly compare it, I know not: this is the first time that Philautus has been at a loss; but so hoo! I have seen a man, that had ano­ther man growing out of his side, with an head, arms, breast, and stomach of his own: if, say you, he had had another growing o [...]t of his other side, [Page 177] the comparison might then have been exact: (if I meet with the man, I'll speak to him, to hire another man to grow out of t'other side; and if that be once done, goodnight Par­liament for this October, and for ever after:)

Nor yet?

When I also read that want of money, especially in the approach of War, may very aptly be compar'd to an Ague; (now for as long a Lecture upon an Ague, as we had before up­on the Falling-Sickness:) wherein the fleshy parts being congealed, or by venomous matter obstructed; the veins which by their natural course empty themselves into the heart, are not (as they ought to be) supplyed from the ar­teries, whereby there succeedeth first a cold contraction and trembling of the limbs; (a very pretty Hypothesis for an Ague:) and afterwards a hot and strong endeavour of the heart, to force a passage for the blood; and be­fore it can do that, contenteth it self with the small refreshments of such [Page 178] thi [...]gs as cool for a time; (a Julap from a Banker:) till (if nature be strong enough) it break at last the con­tumacy of the parts obstructed ('tis a little obscure, but the Devil they say is in an Ague:) and dissipate [...] the venom into sweat; (through [...]he sieve, or scummer of the skin:) [...] (if nature be too weak) the patient dyeth. Ting, tong: ting, tong:

Then never.

And that Monopolies and ab [...] ­ses of Publicans are the Pleurisie of the Common-wealth. For as the blood, say you, in a Pleurisie, getting into the membrane of the breast, breedet [...] there an inflammation, accompanied with a Feaver and painful stitches: so say I and you together, money t [...] blood of the body politick, getting in too much abundance into the membra­naceous Purses, and Coffers of Pub­licans, and Farmers of publick re­venue; by inflammation, doth di­stend the Purse-strings, and make the sides of the Coffers to sob and groan: and that the popularity of a potent sub­ject [Page 179] is like Witch-craft: (though, with Philautus, there be no such thing, yet for a need that will serve for a Di­sease too:) and that too great a num­ber of corporations; which are as it were many lesser Common-wealths in the bowells of a greater; (that now is a notion) are like worms in the en­trails of a natural man: but that dis­puters against absolute power, are not like those belly worms in general; but like those little worms which Physitians call Ascarides.

I thought nothing had been infinite:

And when I meditate—

What, more mumping still?

I say when I meditate, upon those four accounts ( de Cive, p. 123.) for which, the spaces between the times of the subjects meeting, under a Temporary Monarch, elected by the people, may be fitly compar'd to those times, wherein an absolute Mo­narch, who hath no Heir Apparent, sleeps; with the introduction thereun­to, viz. to dissolve the Convent, so as it [Page 180] cannot meet again, is the death of the people; just as sleeping, so as he can never wake more, is the death of a man▪ (yes indeed I believe it may prove his death, if he don't use some speedy means:) as therefore, say you, a King, who hath no Heir, going to [...] rest, so as never to rise again (i. [...]) dying (a very pretty notion of death: 'tis a going to rest, so as never to rise again) if he commit the exercise of [...] regal authority to any one till he [...], does by consequence give him the suc­cession. So the people electing a Tem­porary Monarch, and not reserving [...] power to convene delivers up to him t [...] whole dominion of the Country. Fur­thermore, as a King going to sleep f [...]r some season, entrusts the administra­tion of his Kingdom to some other (he can't surely govern much, when he' [...] asleep) and waking takes it again; (that is, if no body has broken up the doors, and stole away the Kingdom; for if so, he may take another nap:) So the people, &c. and as a King who hath committed the execution of his [Page 181] Authority to another, himself in the mean while waking can recal this Com­mission again when he pleaseth: (or else he has given out a very large one:) so the people, &c. Lastly, As the King who commits his authority to another while himself sleeps, not being able to wake again, till he whom he entrusted give consent; (such a temp­tation as this would make some Trustees to walk as light as a Cham­bermaid) loses at once both his power and his life; so the people, &c. and when I consider—

And when I consider, that this sentence may last till to morrow this time, I shall take my leave—

By no means, Sir; for I say, when I consider those fourteen ele­gant comparisons, between the Pa­pacy, or Kingdom of darkness, and the Kingdom of Fairies; (with which you conclude your Leviathan) viz. the Kingdom of Fairies sprung from old Wives Fables, concerning Ghosts and Spirits, that play seats in the night: and what is the Hierarchy of [Page 182] Rome, but the Ghost of the deceas [...]d Roman Empire, starting up from the ruines of that Heathen Power. There's Ghost for Ghost already: A second Ghostliness they agree in is, that t [...] Papists use in their devotions the Latin language: and what, I pray, is Latin but the Ghost of the old Roman language, walking up and down Calepine, Cooper, Goldman, and such like en­chanted places? Thirdly, The Fairies have got but one Universal King, call'd King Oberon: the Ecclesiasticks have got a King Pope, that shall play, in the night, at push-pin with their King Obe­ron. Fourthly, The Fairies are Spirits and Ghosts: Ecclesiasticks outdo 'em there; for they are spiritual men and Ghostly Fathers. Fifthly, Fairies and Ghosts inhabit darkness, solitudes, and graves: Nay, if you be good at that, we can be as private as you: for, Ecclesiasticks walk in obscurity of doctrine, in Monasteries, Churches, Church-Yards, and dark colour'd Cloths. Sixthly, The Fairies have their enchanted Castles and certain [Page 183] Gigantine Ghosts, that domineer over the Regions round about them: say you so? we can fit you there too: clap but a Gigantick Pontificial Clergy­man upon the top of his Cathedral; and he looks over all the little Paro­chials, just as the Devil look'd over Lincoln: Seventhly, The Fairies can never be arrested or sued, though they steal Garters, Shoo-strings, Pin-Cushi­ons, &c. and, if the Ecclesiasticks be not as sly I am much mistaken: for no sooner do you call 'em to appear be­fore the visible Tribunal of civil ju­stice, but they presently vanish into their Ghostly Courts: Eightly, The Fairies are said to take young Children out of their Cradles, and to change them into natural Fools or Elves; the Ecclesiasticks are old Dogs at that; for they take young men out of the Cra­dle of reason, and lay them upon the hurdle of hard words, Metaphysicks, and Miracles. Ninthly, The Shop or Operatory of the Fairies is not as yet determin'd: there we get ground; for the operatories of the Clergy are [Page 184] well enough known to be the Universi­ties: Tenthly, When the Fairies are displeas'd with any body, they are said to send their Elves to pin [...]h them; the Ecclesiasticks (I'll warrant you) won't be cast out at pinching; for no sooner does any state displease them, but they enchant the elvish superstitious subjects to pinch their Princes: and sometimes enchant one Prince to pinch another. Eleventhly, Fairies marry not; there you get nothing; neither do Priests. Twelfthly, It is said of Fairies that they enter into the Dairies, and Feast upon the Cream which they skim from the milk. The Ecclesiasticks are very good at skiming: for what are the Church lands but the very Cream of Nations skim'd from the Estates of ig­norant, flotten, Gentlemen? Thirteenthly, What kind of money is currant in the Kingdom of Fairi [...]s is not recorded in the story; but with the Ecclesiasticks, all is Fish that comes to the Net. Lastly, As there is no such thing at all as Fai­ries, but only in the phansies of silly idle people; so, though it be strongly re­ported, [Page 185] yet there's no such man at all as the Pope; but he's as meer a Phan­tasm, as Beelzebub the Prince of Phantasms:

And what of all this? here's no conclusion yet.

No, Sir: but now I conclude, and say, that when I find such things as these, and a thousand more such, not in your Peak or Ulisses, (for a Poet has his priviledges as well as a Jugler or Barber;) but in your grave and Philosophical reckonings—

What then? I hope we are not beginning the sentence again:

Then, say I, that though Metaphors, Tropes, and other Rhetori­cal figures be the cause of very absurd conclusions; and therefore must not by any means; no, not by any means, be admitted in reckoning and seeking of truth; and though again (as you have it Lev. p. 21.) the light of hu­mane minds is perspicuous words, but by exact definitions first snuffed and purged from ambiguity; Reason is the pace; Encrease of Science, the way; [Page 186] and the benefit of mankind the end. And on the contrary, Metaphors, and senseless and ambiguous words, are like ignes fatui; and reasoning upon them, is wandering amongst innumerable ab­surdities; and their end, contention, and sedition or contempt; Yet Philau­tus himself (as great a reckoner, and stickler for truth as he would seem to be;) when 'tis for his tooth, can smack his lips at an Anchovy, as lowd as a Coach-whip. And now I have done.

In good time indeed! and what, Tim, is there no difference to be made between the Rhetorick which is all flash and froth; and such as drives at notion, and carries that which is weighty and considerable at the bottom?

O, Sir, a very great diffe­rence: because you have found out a very peculiar way of making your self and your Writings considerable, which no body else ever thought of.

I am considerable for the sake of my works; and my works are con­siderable [Page 187] for their own sakes, and mine together. I know no other way of being considerable.

This way, Sir, is very trou­blesom: a man must write well, and meditate much to become thus con­siderable: there's a much easier way, than this, Sir.

How so prethee?

Get some body to write against some Book of yours; and let the title of it be Philautus considered; and before the ink be dry, you'll become as considerable, as the House of Austria.

Thou art a most arch wag, Tim: here take a Plum. Philautus consider'd, and therefore Philautus is considerable! or an accompt of Phi­lautus, therefore Philautus is of ac­compt. May not Tom Thumb, or Tom of Odcomb be made considerable af­ter this manner?

Yes, Sir; and so may Tom of Malmesbury too; having in the 51. page of his Letter to Dr. Wallis tryed the experiment upon himself. Where, [Page 188] the Doctor looking upon you as one to be pitty'd or contemn'd rather than medled withal; Pish, say you; the egregious Professor is a Fool for that: for if Mr. Hobbs be not a con­siderable person, how came he to entitle the beginning of his Book, Mr. Hobbs consider'd? now whether this be Wit, or Mathematicks I know not: but one of them I am sure 'tis. For Phi­lautus is a man that plays at nothing less; despising all the middle regions of knowledge.

Well done, Tim: specially well done: for it is not above six or seven years agone, or thereabouts, since I wrote a Book call'd, contra fastum professorum Geometriae: wherein I have plainly shewn, that there is full out is great uncertainty, and as many cheats, errors and falsehoods in the writings of Mathematicians, as in the writings of other kind of ordinary Philosophers.

This Dr. Wallis is a most wicked and pernicious Creature; a man of the most rural language, and [Page 189] absurd reasoning that ever spoke or writ.

I know that well enough: but what makes you say so?

Because, till he took you to talk for your Geometry, and shew'd you to be no Mathematician; Ma­thematicks (as 'tis said in another case) was the very smile of nature, the gloss of the World, the varnish of the Creation, a bright paraphrase upon bo­dies; whether it discovered it self in the morning blush of computation in ge­neral, call'd Logick; or open'd its fair and virgin eye-lids in the dawning of the computation of mens duties, call'd Ethicks; or whether it darted forth its more vigorous and sprightful beams in the noon day of motion call'd Phy­sicks. However 'twas the first born of corporeal beings, the Lady and Queen of sensitive beauties, the clari­fier and refiner of the Chaos, &c. but, immediately after the Doctor put forth his Elenchus Hobbianae Geo­metriae; one would wonder to see how the price of Olives fell. Alas! [Page 190] before that scurvy Book came forth, Philautus sometimes could not get above three or four lines into an Epi­stle dedicatory, but he must be slab­bering over his dear Mis, his sweet and honey Mathematicks: (but poor Aurelia is now grown old:) Hum: nat: my most honour'd Lord, from the most principal parts of nature, rea­son, and passion, have proceeded two kinds of learning, Mathematical, and dogmatical: as for Mathematical, 'tis free from controversie and dispute, &c. but in the other there is nothing un­disputable. Sometimes Philautus dis­sembles his love, and goes a little further into the Epistle, before he falls aboard. Ep. Ded. de Cive. Were the nature of humane actions as di­stinctly known, as the nature of quan­tity in Geometrical figures, the strength of avarice and ambition, which is sustain'd by the erroneous opinions of the vulgar, as touching the nature of right and wrong, would presently faint, and languish; and mankind should enjoy such an immortal peace, that [Page 191] (unless it were for habitation, on sup­position that the earth should grow too narrow for her inhabitants) there would hardly be left any pretence for War. There would be brave Mathematical days! such an immortal Peace, that there would be neither War, nor pre­tence for War. And all because of Mathematicks. For, say you, in ano­ther place (Lev. p. 50.) the doctrine of right and wrong is perpetually dis­puted by the Pen and Sword: whereas the doctrine of lines and figures is not so.

Why is it?

Not much till you pretended to the Mathematicks. But yet they are never the more free from dispute for your reason, viz. because men care not in that subject, what be truth, as a thing that crosses no mans ambi­tion, profit, or lust: (ah! woe's me; woe's me: for Philautus, upon my word, has cared very much ever since his Mathematical Girl gave him a clap from Oxford:) for I doubt not, but if it had been a thing contrary to [Page 192] any mans right of dominion, or to the interest of men that have dominion, that the three Angles of a Triangle should be equal to two Angles of a Square; that doctrine should have been, if not disputed, yet by the burning of all Books of Geometry, suppressed as far as he whom it concerned was able.

Why, don't you think, Tim, if the soremention'd property of a Triangle should prove injurious to a Common-wealth, but that those who have the supream Authority would call a meeting, and take some speedy care about it.

Care about it, Sir? they'd have a Session purposely, not only to turn out all Triangles out of Office, and places of trust and strength; but to banish them forthwith five miles from any Corporation.

I say again (as I said, in the 2d. page of the Epistle Dedicatory to my Humane nature;) that the reason why Mathematicks, or that part of learning which consist in comparing of motion and figure, is free from contro­versie [Page 193] and dispute; is because there's nothing in that Science against a mans interest: i. e. there's nothing that crosses a mans ambition, profit, or lust.

Fie, fie! don't say it o're again, Philautus: you had better say you were at that time a little too much in love with the Mathematicks: and, you know, in that condition, a man may be somewhat abated as for speaking reason. And therefore if I were you I'd chuse to have it go for a sudden pang, rapture, or any thing else rather than sense: for you can't but have read, Philautus, what a World of Pens have been drawn and blunted in the great quarrels and Wars that have been about bla­zing Stars, solid Orbs, the motion of the Earth, and such like points: and yet I don't remember that Copernicus or his Doctrine did ever whisk away any mans Titles of honour, or ran away with his Estate into another Country, or chous'd him of his Mi­stress. And therefore don't let us [Page 194] talk any more of this, Philautus: for without doubt, when you writ those two places, you had had a sad night on't, and been in a most strong fit of the Mathematicks.

So, so: this is well: it seems then to thee, Tim, that my Book contra Geometras, or contra fastum, &c. does contradict what I formerly said of the Mathematicks, and Geo­metry. Therefore, prethee, do so much as answer me one question. What's the difference between Geo­metria and Geometra? they both end in a; and therefore have a care of being out.

The first, Sir, I take for the Science it self; the latter for him that is, or pretends to be a Master of it.

Now, Tim, do but consider my first four lines contra fastum, &c. viz. Contra Geometras (amice Lector) non contra Geometriam haec scribo. Artem ipsam, artium navigandi, aedi­ficandi, pingendi, computandi, & de­ni (que) (scientiae omnium nobilissimae) Physicae matrem, aequè ac qui maximè, [Page 195] laudibus extollendam censeo. Do you see, Tim, how horribly you are mi­staken? 'tis not against the Science of Geometry, or Geometry it self that I write: for without doubt Geometry it self is an absolute Science, and be­ing a Science—

Yes: and being a Science, 'tis certainly a Science: but what then do you write against?

What do I write against? I write against the Authors; the silly, negligent, sloathful Authors; that are as full of errours, as a Beggar is of lice: the proud, haughty, supercili­ous Authors; who if they can but raise, or let fall a perpendicular, think there's no certain knowledge with­out rule and compasses: I say, I write against these; who always were, and are, and (if I live) shall be as much cheated, and gull'd and fopt, as any men in the World.

But have you not, Philautus, several Seats and Pews to place these Authors in? methinks, those same malicious Raskals, that answer Books, [Page 196] and won't let Circles be squar'd, ought to be set in the Bellfry: for they are much more scabby, and lowsie than the rest.

I deny not but there may be some mean Ecclesiastical wretches, that may pretend to Mathematicks: but my design, Tim, is not to take down the Crest of this or that small, pedantick Geometer; but I flie at the whole Covy: Geometrarum totam invado nationem; as I have it in my Dedication: and again p. 5. ipsa ag­gredior principia, & interdum etiam demonstrationes. Pro Geom [...]tris au­tem omnibus oppugnabo Euclidem, qui omnium Geometrarum magister existi­matur, & interpretem ejus omnium optimum Clavium. Because they make such boasting of him, I set upon their great Flag-man, Euclid himself; and his Vice-Admiral Clavius.

For my life, I can't get it out of my mind, but that the price of Olives is certainly faln. For, till about the year 56. Philautus did not only think that Geometry, or the Lady [Page 197] her self was the beauty and Cream of the Creation; but that the very men, the two-legg'd men that studied and admir'd her, were the most careful, the wisest, and most happy people that ever open'd Book. And, I am confident, that had not Philautus him­self been a little disappointed in some of his Writings, by this time (had he believ'd any such things) they'd have proved all Angels.

Never did I intend any such thing at all: for whatever I have written to the honour and commen­dation of Geometry; 'twas (as I said before) Geometry it self that I al­ways meant, not those phantastical, conceited people that ignorantly pro­fess it.

If this, Philautus, was always your opinion, in my mind you have a very crasty stile. For suppose one should take up your Book de Cive—

Then, do I say, that he has ta­ken up one of the best Books that ever was written in the whole World: for, though I say it my self (as I do [Page 198] in the 7th page of my Letter to Dr. W.) never was any Book more magni­fied beyond the Seas; and therefore, as I my self say again (six Less. p. 56.) in French it carries the Title of Ethicks demonstrated:

Very modest: 'tis pity any body should say so, but ones self: now, Sir, if you please to let this same honest Gentleman read the se­venth page of your Epistle Dedicatory, he'll find these words. And truly the Geometricians have very admirably performed their part. (do you see, Sir, they are the two legg'd Geometrici­ans that have done the feat:) for whatsoever assistance doth accrew to the life of man, whether from the observa­tion of the Heavens, or from the de­scription of the Earth, from the nota­tion of times, or from the remotest experiments of navigation; finally, whatsoever they are in which this pre­sent age doth differ from the rude sim­pleness of antiquity, we must acknow­ledge to be a debt which we owe meerly to Geometry.

Now, Tim, let me ask thee one thing: whether is a mans mind best to be ghess'd at from the begin­ning of a sentence or end of it? don't I conclude and say, that all those fine things are owing to Geo­metry it self, and (to keep out the pragmatical Geometricians) don't I say besides, meerly to Geometry?

Meerly may do excellent ser­vice now, to hedge out the Geome­tricians; but when you writ that Book, you design'd no such thing.

How can you tell what I de­sign'd?

Very well: because you tell us your self, in the words immedi­ately following this great encomium of Geometry. viz. if, say you, the moral Philosophers had as happily dis­charged their duty, &c. As what? as Geometry it self? Geometry it self was never upon duty; and knows no more how to discharge any duty, than to discharge a Musket. No, no, I am confident, Philautus, it must be the huffing and pragmatical Geometrici­ans, [Page 200] that you then meant. But how­ever you need not be at all concerned about it; for neither Geometry, nor the Geometricians can ever sue you, for those commendations; because you have in print revoked the whole sentence. And in law, you know, the last Will always voids the former.

I revoke in print? I have made many of my Adversaries to pull in their Horns, and hang their Ears: but never said any thing so hastily my self, as to recant, or repent of it.

How it came about, I know not: (perhaps Poetry might send you a Basket of Chickens;) but all that same observation of the Heavens, the description of the Earth, and the rest of that rich treasure, and furniture which about 47. you gave to Geo­metry, in the year 50. you bequeath'd it all to Poetry; just as it stood, silk Curtains and all.

To Poetry? that's very like Geometry indeed!

Yes to Poetry: you shall hear it Sir: 'tis an excellent sentence, and [Page 201] may do afterwards for Grammar; upon condition 'twill be towardly, and promise to be guided by the Precepts of true Philosophy. What­soever commodity men receive from the observation of the Heavens, from the description of the Earth, from the ac­count of time, from walking on the Seas; and whatsoever distinguisheth the civi­lity of Europe from the barbarity of the American Salvages, is the Work­manship of fancy but guided by the Precepts of true Philosophy.

But where's Poetry all this while?

Here's fancy; and that's as well, Sir.

But how do you know, that by fancy I must needs mean the fancy of a Poet; and not that of a Geome­trician? and again how do you know but that by Philosophy, I meant par­ticularly Geometry.

I'll tell you, Sir, how I came to discover these two great secrets. The sentence I just now mention'd is in the 132. page of your Answer to [Page 202] Sir William Davenant's Preface before Gondibert: which answer is so richly fraight with the History, nature and laws of Poetry, that I am more than pretty well assur'd, that by fancy you could not easily mean that of a Geometrician. And that by Philoso­phy likewise you meant not particu­larly Geometry, but Philosophy in general, I am as well assur'd; be­cause in the very next words you advise Poets, to be well skill'd in the true doctrine of moral vertue; (that in their Heroick Poems they may exhi­bite a venerable and amiable image of Heroick vertue) and (a little after) to consult the possibility of nature; and not to talk of their impenetrable ar­mours, inchanted Castles, invulnerable bodies, iron men, flying Horses, and a thousand other such things which (as you say) are easily feign'd by them that dare. But, now I think on't, why am I so mad as to trouble my self about this? 'tis better by half for me to let all pass for Geometry; for then have I two most tearing sen­tences [Page 203] in praise of the Geometricians: for, as for Geometry it self giving any precepts for the guidance of the fancy, she is so modest and mealy­mouth'd, that I'll trust her for doing any such thing; unless she make use of the pen, or mouth of some Cuck­oldy Geometrician.

You may catch, and carp, and wrest Tim, as long as you will: but you'l never be able to find any one place, wherein I do absolutely and positively affirm, that the Writings of Geometricians do any ways tran­scend the Writings of other men.

Absolutely and positively af­firm! that truly may be somewhat difficult. That is, you'd have me, I suppose, shew you some such place as this, viz. ‘Whereas I Thomas, the great Mathematician and Philoso­pher of Malmesbury; having, for ten years together, taken all oc­casions to magnifie the labours, and admire the success of the Geome­tricians in their several underta­kings above all other Writers: [Page 204] do now publickly declare to all the World, that by Geometricians, I meant Geometricians. In witness whereof I have set my hand and seal in the presence of &c.’ Such a place as this I don't know, on a sudden, where to find: but setting aside the solemnity of such an ac­knowledgement, I don't know any thing that ever was more plainly ex­press'd, than what you have in many places said to the vast credit of Geo­metricians themselves. But now they are all Canniballs and Cuckolds. Let but any body read the 15. page of your Leviathan.

So he may, if he will: 'twill do him good at the heart; that or any other page.

For all that you'd give mo­ney to buy it out of your Book.

I won't part with any one line of any Book that I ever writ, in my whole life, for all the money you can offer.

You shall keep it then, Sir: the only way, say you, to become truly [Page 205] wise, and to avoid false and senseless tenets, is to order words aright: that is, to determine what every word shall signifie, and how it is to be placed: which no body has done but the Geo­metricians.

Now, I am sure, I have catch'd thee, Tim: for the word Geometrician is not in that whole page.

But there's that which is as like it, as the Philosopher of Malms­bury is like Mr. Hobbs. I think I can say it just as you do. ‘Seeing then that truth consisteth in the right ordering of names in our affirma­tions, a man that seeketh precise truth had need to remember what every name he uses stands for; and to place it accordingly, or else he will find himself entangled in words, as a Bird in Lime-twigs, the more he struggles, the more be­limed. And thereforè in Geometry (which is the only Science that it hath pleased God hitherto to be­stow upon mankind) men begin at [Page 206] the setling the signification of their words; which setling of significa­tions they call definitions, and place them in the beginning of their reckonings.’ Do you mind it, Sir? they are those same men, that begin at the setling of the significa­tion of their words; and they call such setling of significations definiti­ons; and (by the blessing of God upon their extraordinary care and endeavours) the doctrine of lines and figures is so accurately perform­ed by them, that that alone as yet deserves the name of Science.

I am not bound, Tim, to re­member every word that I have [...]poken, or writ.

No, Sir; that would be a most unreasonable burden: and therefore I suppose when you writ your contra fastum, &c. You might have forgot also what you said Lev. p. 20. viz. that of all Creatures none is subject to absurdity but men: and none so much as those that profess Phi­losophy. For it is most true that Cicero [Page 207] saith of them somewhere; that there can be nothing so absurd, but may be found in the Books of Philosophers. And why? because all, but Geometrici­ans, are Sots, Lubbers, and Logger-heads.

I am sure these last are none of my words.

Right: but these that follow are (which are as good) and the rea­son, say you, is manifest. For there is not one of them (and now there's ten thousand since you fail'd in Geo­metry:) that begins his ratiocination from the definitions, or explications of the names they are to use; which is a method that hath been used only in Geometry; whose conclusions have there­fore been made indisputable. Do you mind it again, Philautus; 'tis not an idle tale of ambition, profit, or lust; (such as you talk'd of before) that makes the conclusions in Geometry to be indisputable; but 'tis the admire­able method, &c. which Geometri­cians alone make use of?

I don't speak one word of the method which Geometricians use; but [Page 208] only of that which is us'd in the Sci­ence of Geometry.

By whom: by Sow-Gelders or Rat-Catchers? I beseech you, Phi­lautus, don't try at that any more: for you know well enough that Geo­metry her self can't wipe her own nose according to art; unless she borrows a quadrant of some neigh­bour. And besides, I find that you right down affirm, that the Mathe­maticians are the only men, that rea­son methodically; and in a discourse too, where one could not easily ex­pect any such thing; ( viz. in your Animadversions upon Bishop Bramhall's Vindication of true Liberty, &c. p. 46.) but only I consider, Philautus, 'twas in the days of [...]our Amours; when you took all possible occasion to hook in that venerable esteem you had of those kind of Writers. Reason teach­eth, say you, and the example of those who only reason methodically, say you, which are the Mathematicians, say you, that a man when he will demon­strate the truth of what he is to say, [Page 209] must in the first place determine what he will have to be understood by his words; which determination is called definition; whereby the significations of his words are so clearly set down, that there can creep in no ambiguity. Thus 'twas, Philautus, for many years together: write about Humane Nature, Ethicks, Politicks, Liberty and Necessity, or any thing else, still Ma­thematicks was the word, and the Mathematicians were the only white boys. ‘I know that that part of Philosophy wherein are considered lines and figures, has been deli­vered to us notably improved by the ancients. I confess indeed that that part of Philosophy by which magnitudes and figures are com­puted is highly improved: the like advancement I have not observed in the other parts of it, &c. Be­cause the Elements of Geometry having been improved by the best wits of all ages, has afforded grea­ter plenty of matter than can well be thrust together within the nar­row [Page 210] limits of this discourse; I thought fit to admonish the Rea­der, that before he proceeds fur­ther, he takes into his hands the works of Euclid, Archimedes, Apol­lonius and other as well ancient as modern Writers. For to what end is it to do over again that which is already done? the little therefore that I shall say concern­ing Geometry, shall be such only as is new and conducing to Natu­ral Philosophy.’

But what's all this for? and whence hadst it, Tim?

All this, Sir, I had out of the Translator of your Book de Corpore. The first place I mention'd is in your Epistle Dedicatory: the second in the beginning of your Logick: and the last in the 149. page of your Philo­sophy.

What is any mechanical Tran­slator to me? this Translator, for ought I know, is some two-penny­ Almanack-maker: or some giddy­headed, conceited Mathematician; [Page 211] who had a mind to foist into my Works some commendations of him­self, and his own trade.

I don't think, Sir, that the Translator has wrong'd you much; because (in his Epistle to the Reader, he says) what he did was view'd, corrected and ordered according to your own mind and pleasure. But perhaps the noise of your own Latin may be more delightful to you. Scio Philosophiae partem illam, quae versa­tur circa lineas & figuras traditam nobis esse bene cultam à veteribus. Be­ne cultam! I promise you, that's pretty well for such old Fornicators. Fa­teor quidem partem Philosophiae eam, in quâ magnitudinum figurarum (que) ra­tiones supputantur, egregiè cultam esse. Say you so: Egregiè cultam esse? I think they deserve a largess: for by the following words they have wrought very hard. In reliquis par­tibus Philosophiae similem operam posi­tam non vidi, &c.

And by the words following those; ( viz. consilium ineo, quoad po­tero, [Page 212] Philosophiae Universae, &c.) others intend to work as hard, and in time to deserve as well.

Who do you mean, Philau­tus, you nown dear self?

‘Yes, Tim, 'tis I: I my own self that have advanc'd all parts of Philosophy to indisputable and Ma­thematical certainty. 'Tis I that set forth the first Book that ever was truly written about civil Phi­losophy (Epis. ded. de corp.) in res­pect of whom (I mean my self) Pythagoras, Plato, Aristotle and the rest were meer Chimney-sweepers, black pieces of superficial gravity, Phantasms and Ghosts of Philoso­phy, and served only to be deri­ded by Lucian. 'Tis I that first shew the way ( Lev. p. 87.) how to generate a Common-wealth the great Leviathan; or rather (to speak more reverently) that mor­tal God, to which we owe under the immortal God our Peace and defence: and that have sent word to ( Lev. p. 391.) such as [Page 213] govern Kingdoms, that if either they intended to preserve them­selves in authority, or to have their Clergy and Gentry preserved from the venom of Heathen Politicians, and from the incantation of decei­ving Spirits, they should appoint that Book of mine publickly to be taught in the Universities. 'Tis I again that first banish'd the Hob­goblin School-distinctions; ( Epis. Ded. de corp.) and i [...]stead thereof have brought pure light into na­tural Philosophy: ( non pugnando, sed diem inferendo, as I there have it) having first discovered such a principle in the World as motion; and having out of my many good wishes for the improvement of Phi­losophy, revealed this great secret to the lazy backs at Gresham. Who (as I tell them Ep. Ded. de nat. aeris; and in my Letter to Dr. W. p. 55.) may do very well, if they would not set their minds wholly upon every new gin, and janty de­vice that is brought from beyond [Page 214] Sea. Nam conveniant, studia con­ferant, experimenta faciant quan­tum volunt, nisi & principiis utan­tur meis, nihil proficient. They may meet at Gresham Colledge, and the President (which my dear friend and Translator Sorbiere wittily ob­serv'd) may knock the table with the wooden hammer, and the fel­lows may lay all their experimen­tal noddles together, and they may build Furnaces, and buy Coals, and grind Spectacles, and shoot Stars, and kill Cats and Pidg­eons; but they'l never be able to make so much as the tail of a Mouse, unless they apply them­selves to the doctrine of my mo­tion, and send for me, who will be very ready to help them so long as they use me civilly: for I am at a composition with nature; and she has promis'd to do nothing but by me and my motion. 'Tis I that have heard that Hugenius and Eu­stachio Divini were to be tried by their Glasses who was most skillful [Page 215] in Opticks of the two; but, for my part, (Letter to Dr. W. p. 54.) before I set forth my Book de Ho­mine, I never saw any thing writ­ten of that subject intelligibly. Lastly, 'tis I alone ( Ep. Ded. con­tra fast. &c.) that have throughly examined and mended the princi­ples of Geometry it self, and in spight of all my Adversaries have truly squar'd the Circle.’

What an excellent thing 'tis for a man to keep a common place­Book of his own deserts: especially if it be made out of his own works, and that the quotations be ready? there comes, suppose, a good honest fel­low to Philautus; who having look'd upon his Picture before his Latin Works; and finding there, en quam Modicè habitat Philosophia; tells him that those words, as they may be ta­ken, sit about him excellently well. Say you so, quoth Philautus? if any man takes those words in a bad sense, let him be who he will that very man do I take for a Fool. Because [Page 216] I am not only the best Logician, the best Moralist, and the best Natural Philosopher, but the greatest Mathe­matician in all Europe. As at large I grant it, and acknowledge to my self, in several places of my several Books, such Pages, such Articles, and such Editions. Neither is there any thing of Vain-glory or self-conceit in all this; because (quoth Philautus) there is not; as I my self have proved it in several places of my Writings. For (to define it strictly) Vain glory or self-conceit is a certain idle and wanton form of speech; by which a man, either in the shade or in the open Sun, admires himself, being not justly call'd thereunto. And that man has very little skill in Morality, and the common actions of humane life, that cannot see the justice of com­mending a mans self, as well as of any thing else, in his own defence. And to speak not only prettily well, but extraordinary well of a mans self if vilified and provoked, is a great instance of Heroick vertue: [Page 217] (as I have at large proved it, both in my six Lessons, p. 56. and in my Letter to Dr. W. p. 57.) and he that neglects that piece of justice towards himself is a most pusillanimous sneak­er; and (for ought I know) neg­lects a duty as great, as any of those that belong to the Clergy-mens two Tables. And thus it happen'd when I first put out my Book de Cive: some snarled at this, some looked askew upon that, and some found fault with the whole. But I being well ac­quainted with the value of my self; (keeping always by me a Register of my own deserts:) and being well skill'd in the greatest actions of hu­mane life, presently did my self ju­stice, and straighten'd all. For (as was said before) I printed a Book a little after, wherein I told my self, and the Earl of Devonshire, that my Book de Cive was not meerly the best, but the only Book that ever was writ­ten of that subject. And then, I pray, what became of my absurd and ru­ral detractors? So again, there was a [Page 218] small pragmatical Cypherer (he was one of the resemblance of Divines:) went and reported that I had com­mitted some great mistakes in the very principles of Geometry. That fellow, say I, shall presently be made a Fool of; and forthwith I call to my principal moral vertue self justice, to rally together all the famous things that have been spoken concer [...]ing me; (now, there's no self conceit in this, it being other peoples con­ceit of me, not my conceit of my self:) I know a passage (Letter to Dr. W. p. 52.) in an Epistle written by a learned French man to an eminent person in France; wherein I am reck­on'd amongst the Galilaeo's the Des Carteses, the Bacons and the Gassen­di's: and 'tis generally believed that some of these were no inconsiderable Mathematicians (especially Des Car­tes) and I am sure in the Epistle my name stands immediately after his. But if any body should question the truth of this testimony, it being fo­raign, I am sure it cannot be denyed [Page 219] (though my name is not to the Book) but that I give this following testi­mony of my self ( Lux Mathem. p. 36, 37.) viz. Hobbesius extrà legitur, in­telligitur, laudatur: Hobbesii inventa tum in Geometriâ tum in Physicâ multa, nova, excelsa, clara, utilia sunt: imo talia, ut nec aetas prior majora vi­dit, nec (quantum conjicio) futura confutabit aut extinguet. O brave Arthur of Bradley! now they are meer Asses that think any of this ostentation; it being only to vex and confound my Back-biters. Oh how the Raskals do pine and fret, when I let go the great conscious­ness of my own worth upon my self! In short, they may talk and write what they will; but if I don't com­mend my self much faster, than they can possibly ever discommend me, then will I give in, and patiently submit to their scurrilous, and clown­ish contumelies. But notwithstand­ing all this that you have now said for your self, or I for you; I have a very great suspition of one thing—

What's that, Tim?

That though to praise a mans self, in order to the vexatio [...] of his Enemies be a very pretty divertise­ment; and most undoubtedly a mo­ral vertue; yet this will not fully re­concile you to your self in the case of the Mathematicks.

Why not?

You must hear the last place which I promis'd to repeat to you, concerning your former opinion of the Mathematicians; and you will then perhaps perceive somewhat. Quoniam autem (de Corp. p. 106.) pars ista Philosophiae (Geometriae) ab excellentissimis omnium temporum in­geniis exculta (we had benè culta, and egregiè before; now 'tis got to exculta:) uberiorem tulit segetem, q [...]am ut in angustias propositi operis nostri contrudi possit; Lectorem ad hunc locum accedentem admonendum esse censui, ('twas then very good ad­vice, and so 'tis still for all your con­tra fastum, &c.) ut Euclidis, Archi­medis, Apollonii, aliorum (que) tum anti­quorum [Page 221] tum recentiorum scripta in manus sumat. Quorsum enim actum agere? ego vero de rebus Geometricis pauca tantum & nova & ea praeser­tim quae Physicae inserviunt proximis aliquot capitibus dicturus sum.

Now what do you make of all this?

Oh Sir! of that same excel­lentissimis omnium temporum ingeniis exculta, &c. I make very much: viz. that when you writ that same Book de corpore, you were so fully satisfied with what the man Euclid, the man Archimedes and the man Apollonius had done; (who were not three Sciences, but tres substantes viri in Geometry) that you did then think that there was nothing to be said against them; nor, as far as they had gone, any thing to be altered. Quor­sum enim actum agere? ay quorsum indeed: ego tantum nova & pauca, &c. but now, Philautus, they are all Scoundrels, Hedg-hogs, and Cater­pillars; not knowing so much as what a point is, or what a line is, or [Page 222] what superficies is, or what an angle is nor any thing else: nay you don't certainly know ( non videtur Proposi­tio illa universaliter vera, say you, sed dubitans nil pronuncio) but the famous 47th Proposition it self may be false? so that I am afraid that the Gods must restore to Pythagoras all the Bullocks they have received for that Proposition. Now, I'll tell you, Philautus, how all this came about.—'twas just so: really 'twas.

Really 'twas, Tim? thou art really an Owl. 'Twas just so? how so was it?

You know, Philautus, you have written a Poem upon the Peak: and upon Ulisses.

Well.

Now I am very confident, that were those verses, as capable of being confuted, as your Mathema­ticks are, and have been; if need were (as was said before about Lo­gick) we should presently have a Book out contra Fastum Pecci, & Ulissis: wherein it should be proved [Page 223] that there never was any such place as the Peak; nor any such man as Ulisses; but that the one was a stand­ing Phantasm in Derbyshire; 'tother was a Phantasm that travel'd.

And how do you apply this to Mathematicks.

I'll tell you two sayings of your own; and then you may apply your self. The one is Lev. p. 21. viz. who is so stupid as both to mistake in Geometry, and also to persist in it, when another detects his error to him? the other is Ep. Ded. Hum. nat. viz. as oft as reason is against a man, so oft will a man be against reason.

I meant that, Tim, only of other people: for I my self never forsook reason in my whole life; and therefore, suppose, I should grant that in former times I might speak a little too warmly in praise of the Geometricians: am I, Tim, oblig'd to be always of the same mind; when I had so many good reasons to alter it?

Now, Philautus, you say [Page 224] somewhat indeed: if you had had any reasons to do so. But you never had any, nor are ever likely to have any. But only according as you have been bitten by the Doctor, and the teeth of time; so your distemper has constantly increas'd; and thereupon you invent new exceptions, and seek out new places of refuge. For it is very evident, that when you were first taken ill; 'twas a meer plain Wallisiophobia: but the Doctor getting deeper and deeper into you; 'tis heighten'd now into a most ab­solute Euclidophobia: which is a Di­sease almost as ill as that same Tyran­nophobia you spoke of before. And I am very much afraid if the rest of your Writings were as strictly exa­min'd, as your Mathematicks have been; that at last it may come to a perfect Philosophophobia; which is the most dreadful howling Disease that can possibly befal a man: ten thou­sand Scepticks don't make half such a noise, as one man that has got the Philosophophobia. Therefore I pray, [Page 225] Sir, have a care of it: for really I look upon you to be a going that way. And I perceive you your self are not without some apprehensions of danger; by what you say in your Epistle Dedicatory to your contra Fa­stum, &c. For a certain, say you, either I am stark mad, or all the Geo­metricians are so: for I differ from them all. Remember that, Sir; and, as I said, be careful of your self: for I believe, as for their parts, they all hold pretty sound as yet.

Sound? Yes, so is a Tub with twenty great holes at the bottom. Their principles are all false; their demonstrations are many of them false; (and therefore you are likely to have a good reckoning:) as I have evidently made it out by most solid reasons.

I wish, Sir, you'd tell me where those same solid reasons lie. For I can find nothing but only some Grammatical, Metaphysical small-shot: such as you formerly discharg'd at the Doctor, when you and Mathema­ticks [Page 226] first fell out. 'Tother day, Phi­lautus, I look'd upon a Book of yours, called Examinatio & emendatio Ma­thematicae hodiernae; a very good Title: surely, think I, we shall have some notable Reformation. But reading on I found qualis explicatur in Libris Johannis Wallisii. When­ever I saw that same qualis &c. in the Title, I presently, from that Symp­tom, concluded that there would be very much of the foremention'd distemper in the Book it self. And so it proved: there being very little besides Grammatical nibling, and tearing rants at Algebra. Quantum­vis, says the Doctor, non sim [...]go prorsus nescius, &c. Out, out, out! says Philautus; abominably out! Quantumvis Wallisius Doctus sit Ma­thematicus, non est certè Latinae lin­guae peritissimus. Quantumvis, pror­sus; what both in the same sentence? the like was never known. For quantumvis is a mark of uncertainty; but prorsus puts all out of doubt. Etsi might have done well enough; but [Page 227] quantumvis can never do. Then im­mediately after this, say you, fol­lows sigillatim for singulis, instituat for institueret, laboret for laboraret, proferre for efferre, and those barba­rous Scholastical Phrases, viz. Pro formâ, idem erit ac si, and the like: as also this: cum quae in publicum pro­deant, pro more scilicet (eo (que) satis inveterato) nonnullis inscripta soleant prodire; in which small piece of a sentence, you find out no less than three huge Geometrical miscarriages. First, say you, cum quae &c. should be cum Libri qui &c. for we don't hear of Houses or Churches going to the Press; but only of Books: therefore doubtless the Doctor had not his Com­passes about him, when he said cum quae &c. (cum quae &c. an ille ipse, say you, quoties in publicum prodit, inscriptus ( [...]) prodit?) in the second place, say you, the Doctor again is out in prodeant, which should be prodeunt: and in the third place, as for his nonnullis inscripta, I can't devise, say you, what possibly to [Page 228] make of it. For the word nonnullis (solitariè posita) standing melan­choly without any substantive, and Rebus being always civil, and ready to be understood; presently cries out; next Oars, next Oars! so that the Doctor's Mathematicks are cer­tainly most extraordinary Mathema­ticks, for he scorns to dedicate them to men, but to Rebusses themselves.

And did not the Doctor, Tim, first nibble at my Writings and my Latin?

If he did, Philautus, you have clearly got the day; for no man ever carried on that humour like you. And thus, say you, it happens in all the Books that he has written. For whatever he says, either non placet, or 'tis inept, or childish, or vicious, or unintelligible, or wonderful, or lastly malicious and ghebrical. For exam­ple: he has put out a Book de motu, say you; which (at the latter end of my Rosetum) I briefly censure and confute after this manner. The Book (suppose) is sent to me: and I ha­ving [Page 229] read it, am ask'd what I think of it. In the first place, I say, non pla­cet: and there's for his Book in ge­neral. Then I go on, say you, and read, viz. Mechanica est Geometria de motu: that's inept; because he lets Mechanica stand alone without ars in the singular number. Impedimentum est id quod motui obstat, vel eum im­pedit: to put impedit into the defini­tion of impedimentum is horribly childish, say you: and to put resistere into the definition of resistentia is not childish, but vicious. Celeritas est affectio motûs &c. is unintelligible; for affection only belongs to living Creatures: and no man ever saw motion to hug, kiss, or feed celerity. Continuum quodvis (secundum Caval­lerii Geometriam indivisibilium) in­telligitur &c. for Cavallerius to come into a definition would be very wonderful to any Logician. Lastly, to make use of Symbols, and to say cujuscun (que) rationis index is most ma­liciously and ghebrically done. And if Euclid, say you, or Archimedes [Page 230] should ever come this way, and but see those abominable Antichristian scrawles, which the Egregious Geome­ter makes, and the word Index, they'd be so horribly scar'd, that we should never have their Company again. And therefore now you are in, Phi­lautus, I pray let's hear you rail a little at Algebra and Symbols.

You are a very scoundrel, Tim, and somewhat besides, for supposing me to rail: for my language is al­ways clean, gentile, and elegant.

This is only modesty: for you [...] do't as well as any man alive. Come, Sir, let me give you the Key. Gheber. Now away with it: id dictum Ghebricè, hoc dictum ghebricè, gibbericè▪ gabbericè, scabicè, scrubbicè, symbolicè, gambolicè, &c.

What are you doing, Tim?

Don't you see, Sir? I am confuting and confounding the Whore- Algebra: that barbarous, Irish, Welch Whore- Algebra: that nasty, scabby, pestilential, abomina­tion-Whore- Algebra: that scratch­ing, [Page 231] scrawling, brachygriphal, stig­matical, symbolical Whore- Algebra. (Exam. & emend. p. 10. p. 100.) abominans praetereo &c. pro peste Geometriae habenda est, &c.

I hope you don't call this con­futing, &c.?

Yes but I do; and so do you: for when you would seem mild, and pretend to reason the case, you talk ten times worse. Algebra? it takes its name, say you, from one Gheber: who perhaps might be some Comb­Maker, dextrous Corn-Cutter, Ope­rator for Teeth or some such Engi­neer. Symbols? what a silly thing is it to talk of symbols (Exam. p. 9.) words are the most ancient and currant of all symbols, &c.

And do you really think, Tim, that Algebra is good for any thing?

I durst not think any thing of it at all, Sir; for fear Gheber should get me: but I have heard that Vieta, Oughtred, Cartes, de-Wit, and half a dozen more have, for [Page 232] reasons I shall not now mention, spoke well concerning it: whose judgments put all together, I shall for once, Phi­lautus, beg leave to prefer before yours.

Vie [...]a I grant ( de corp. p. 156.) by reason of his great skill in Geo­metry, was a good considerable per­son. But as for the rest of those ghebrical scrawlers, you mention'd; I don't know any one thing they ever found out.

And truly, Philautus, as you order the business, I don't see how they▪ or any body else ever should. For first of all, you seize upon all motion as yours; and neither man, nor nature can do any thing, unless you lend them a little of your mo­tion. Again all reasoning is plainly yours; you being the first that ever call'd Logick Computation. And most of the Mathematicks is also yours; you being the first that demonstra­ted ( de corp. p. 63.) the whole to be bigger than any one part. And I don't much question but that the Sun and [Page 233] the Moon also (you may do some­what or other to 'em) in time, may become yours. But no more of the Whore- Algebra. Now look to your self Euclid, Clavius and the rest of you: for Philautus is coming, and upon my word wherever he comes, he makes most dreadful work. You may think (and so did he once) that you were the only people upon whose endeavours the blessing of God had fallen. But he has sent back the blessing of God; and you have made such small progress in your profession of Geometry, that there is no one of you (besides himself) that knows so much as the definition of it. Geo­metry (says a famous man among you) is an art of measuring well. Neatly [...] for a Timber­Merchant, or Dial maker! but there's very nigh as many absurdities as words in the definition. For first of all Geometry is not an Art, but a Science; and if that ben't sufficiently absurd, I know not what is. Secondly, 'Tis an Art of measuring well, says [Page 234] he: measuring well? measuring what well? Geometry well? is Geometry then an art of measuring Geometry well? Lastly, says he, 'tis an art of measuring well: but how does that art measure, and by what? by Sun­Beams, or Rain-bows? all which abominable absurdities I avoid ( Less. p. 1. cont. fast. p. 7.) by saying, that 'tis the Science of determining the quantity of any thing not measured, by comparing it with some other quan­tity or quantities measured. Again say you, suppose we go and search for an exact accompt of a figure; which is a thing of such vast concern­ment, that the whole business almost of Geometry is to consider nothing else but several figures: and yet, for all that, one had e'en as good turn to Rider's Dictionary as Euclid's Elements for any such thing. Figura, says Euclid, est quae sub aliquibus, &c. How lubberly and Porter-like was that said? figura est quae? where's here any antecedent for the Relative quae? (cont. fast. p. 17.) if there be [Page 235] any, it must be either est, or figura. As for est, surely no body will take that for an antecedent: and figura is e'en as bad a Bedfellow. For then it must be figura est figura quae, &c. which sounds a little oddly out of a Geometricians mouth. I told the Eu­clidists of this (for as I said before, 'tis of infinite concernment) in my six Lessons (p. 1.) and again in my Examinatio (p. 44.) and now again in my contra fastum, &c. and yet I believe they are so stupid, that in some Copies one may still find figura est quae, &c. If Philautus had not come, and comforted poor quae, by saying, figura est magnitudo quae &c. doubtless by this time, she had pined away her self to skin and bones, for want of an Antecedent. And thus again, say you, they do in the busi­ness of proportion. Which, says Eu­clid, est mutua quaedam habitudo, &c. that is in plain English ( Less. p. 7.) proportion is a what-shall-I-call-it is­ness, or soness; or, say you, ( Less. p. 16.) a whatshicalt habitude of two [Page 236] quantities. I wonder where the mo­desty of these Euclidists lies, that they should not perceive the bawdi­ness of this quaedam: all which they might have easily avoided, if with me they had said proportio est relatio &c. and truly 'twas worth the wri­ting a Book on purpose to leave out quaedam, and put in relatio instead of habitudo.

But when do I speak, Tim?

Speak, Sir, you speak all this while.

But you pick the worst and least of my exceptions against the Geometricians: for I rout them about a point, a line and every thing else of concernment.

How so?

I hold, Tim, that a point and a line are both really bodies; though in Mathematical consideration they are not.

What need we then trouble our selves about such an old Meta­physical nicety, as indivisibile and di­visibile in infinitum, &c.? seeing [Page 237] (suppose they be bodies) we are not, say you, to take notice of that in Mathematical demonstration.

But, Tim, there's a vast deal, a very vast deal depends upon a point having bigness, and a line breadth.

A vast deal indeed! if you have but the carving it out. For seeing that your squaring the circle, &c. don't well agree with the prin­ciples of Geometry; you'l shew'em a trick, and make the principles of Geometry, to comply with your squa­ring the circle: and then huff comes out contra fastum, &c.

Did you ever know me to wrest, or force any thing to com­ply, &c.? were you, Tim, at my elbow, when I squared the circle?

No: nor any body else, that I can hear of; for though you have done it twelve times over, yet several people say, 'tis still all to do.

I say, I have done it; and have demonstrated it too (cont. fast. [Page 238] p. 43.) as manifestly as any proposi­tion in Euclid. And therefore why may not I be believed as well as other people, and why should I be said to wrest, &c.?

As for your being believed, Philautus, I did never care for rely­ing much upon any mans judgment, that looked upon self-conceit to be a moral vertue: but as for 'tother thing, I had it in part from your self.

From my self; how so?

In the 41. and 43. pages of your contra fastum, &c. you tell us that had the business of punctum, linea, and some such principles of Geome­try, been sooner examined and cor­rected; we had had squaring of cir­cles and many other admirable things long before this time. Now I have a phansie that this sentence ought to be thus turned: viz. seeing that squaring the circle is a most admira­ble thing, if it would but agree with the principles of Geometry; 'tis high time now e'en to make 'em agree. But, which is worse than all, Philau­tus, [Page 239] your dear friend tells you, that they won't agree yet. And whereas you have taken such vast pains to prove a point to have bigness, and a line to have breadth; he's of the mind ( Heaut. p. 112.) that Cheapside is much too narrow to do the business. Therefore in my opinion, Philautus, you had much better have suffered quae, quaedam, punctum, linea, and the rest of them to have continued, as we had them from Euclid; unless the alterations you made had been more to your profit; and the grounds you went upon more considerable. A point, say you, is a body: and why? because (de corp. p. 59.) the whole earth is a point, in respect of the Heavens; Ergo. Again, a point is a body, for 'tis a mark; and the na­ture of a mark is to be visible: and if visible, then, say you, (Lux Mathe­matica p. 11.) it must be divisible: and if divisible; then say I, it must be indivisible: for wee'l never stand out for one syllable. And then for a line having latitude, and being a body; [Page 240] that's so very plain that if it ben't granted nothing, say you, ( Lux Math. p. 12. 32.) can be demonstrated in Mathematicks. For there's no de­monstrating without Diagrams: and no Diagrams can be made without drawing of lines, and no lines can be drawn but they will have breadth. And by such niceties and whimsies as these, (of which I could give you many more instances) have you vainly endeavoured to preserve your credit, and make people be­lieve you had great skill in the Ma­thematicks. And the very same shifts you have made use of, to secure your Carcass, in all that you have said about Government, and Religion: being all plainly founded upon your three Cardinal vertues, Self-conceit, bad nature, and most irreligious co­wardice.

No man ever writ two such Treatises of humane politicks, and Christian politicks, as I have done—

Those Phrases are perfectly new:

In both which I have given the Prince such due Authority, and such a vast power as will be a foun­dation of perpetual Peace, and hap­piness in his Kingdom.

'Tis a vast power indeed, Philautus, that you have bestowed upon him; and he is very much be­holding to you: for, at one stroke, it utterly destroys both himself and his Government.

How is that?

You allow him, you remem­ber, to be the maker of all good and evil.

What then?

I would only know which way you conferr'd that power upon him: did you send it him in a Basket, as a token of your pure love to ab­solute Soveraignty: or how was it?

That power was originally divided amongst all his Subjects; but they all join'd together, and turn'd over all their power of ma­king good and evil to him.

Don't you believe that, Phi­lautus: [Page 242] that any man, that ever thought he had the power of ma­king good and evil, would so part with it, as not to reserve a little for private use; or at least to keep the Receit. And therefore you may make a noise about absolute Monarchy, and unlimited Soveraignty; and that if the Prince ben't able to raise money at his pleasure, he'l catch an Ague, as cer­tainly as if he went into the hun­dreds: and if he takes any advice about making of Laws, he'l have a man grow out of his side; and very tender you may seem to be of the So­veraign's health (with reflections bad enough upon our Government) but you are even with him for all your kindness: for you give him indeed a little money; but withal every sub­ject leave to take away his throne, and life also.

But a subject, Tim, is one that has given up all his power, &c. and a Prince can't be remov'd with­out power.

But, by your principles, he [Page 243] can call for't again, when he thinks it for his advantage.

But he has promis'd he won't; and every man is bound to keep his promise.

How (according to you) is he bound? has he promised to keep his promise: or has he sworn to keep his promise; or how has he so fasten'd himself, but that your principles will unty him?

But for a man to break his promise is absurd.

'Tis very right: 'tis absurd; I remember it very well, in your 3d. Chapter de Cive. He that contracts, say you, in that he doth contract, de­nies that action to be in vain: and if he thinks himself not bound to keep it, in thinking so, he affirms the contract to be made in vain: now for a thing to be done in vain, and not in vain is a contradiction: which is absurd. Whence, say you, it follows that an injury (which is breaking of a bar­gain) is a kind of absurdity in con­versation, [Page 244] as an absurdity is a kind of injury in disputation. And there­fore when Oliver cut of the Kings head, &c. he was guilty of an ab­surdity, and that's all.

I hated Oliver, and his pra­ctices as much as you.

That you might do in your heart, Philautus: as you love Christ, when you renounce him. But your Writings favour his actions so very much, that there is not one thing that he, and his Rogues did, but upon your Principles may be easily de­fended: nay, and demonstrated too; and train'd from Article to Article. And were not your Books much too ridiculous for people to be guided by (any further than of themselves they are debauch'd, and villanously bent) those two opinions alone of yours, viz. that interest is the mea­sure of good and evil in this life; and in the next life that Heaven is only a little better than Spring-Gar­den; and Hell not so ill as the Coun­ter, are at any time sufficient to set [Page 245] up such another pack of Rebels. And yet you are the man that have set up Princes, and establish'd them in their Thrones: and have shewn such a Generation of a Common-wealth, that (give it its due) is to be called a mortal God.

Methinks, Tim, you begin to be somewhat hot: but be as hot as you will, I stand to this, that no man before me had ever justly stated the rights of Princes, nor given them such power as become them.

You are a very liberal Gen­tleman indeed, Philautus: and have granted to Princes, power in a great measure: but by chance so ridicu­lously blasphemous, that you'l get ne'r a Prince in the World to accept of it.

Can you confute—

Confute? what should I con­fute: all the madness of Bedlam crowded into one man? for once I'le try two or three instances of your bounty; and let standers by judge what kind of confutation it deserves. [Page 246] The first Complement you pass upon your Prince is, that it would please his Soveraignty to umpire the business of the Creation: (a very pretty point indeed for the civil Magistrate to de­cide with his Sword:) i. e. whether the World was eternal, or whether it was created by God. Here's ho­nour now for a Prince! The King of Sweden or so, if requested, may give his opinion concerning Flanders, or concerning Liberty of fishing: but Philautus's Prince is to have the arbi­tration of Heaven and Earth: his Prince is to determine whose the whole World is; and to whom it belongs; whether to God Almighty, or to its own self.

Who says that God does not govern the World?

I don't know indeed; but I say if the World made it self, it may e'en as well make shift to look after it self.

But I am not, Tim, against the Providence of God: but thus much I say; ( de Corp. p. 204.) see­ing [Page 247] that all knowledge comes from Phan­tasms; and no man can have a Phan­tasm of that which is infinite: and seeing that it is very laborious, and would tire the best Philosopher to proceed from cause to cause, till he comes to the first and truly eternal cause: I say, upon these and such like accompts, I think it reasonable, that this of the Creation of the World, and all such knotty points should be left to the determination of that Authority, which has right to de­termine all things.

I think, Philautus, I under­stand you: seeing that there's no man now living upon Earth, that was really and actually present at the Creation of the World; nor that did bonâ fide see, or speak face to face with any man that was: and seeing that the tallest subject, or Philoso­pher that any Prince has, can't stand upon his threshold, and from thence look to the furthest end of the World, unless he cuts down the great Pear-tree; nor can stand so long up­on [Page 248] one leg, hopping from cause to cause, but that if he hops long enough he may be tired; therefore we Prince, by the Authority aforesaid, do de­clare and determine that the World had no beginning, but was eternal. Given at our Court—dasho.

I don't say 'tis so to be deter­min'd: but that he that has the su­preme Authority (seeing the case is very doubtful, and too difficult to be determin'd by natural reasons;) may determine it so, if he please.

Yes doubtless: and that by right and vertue of the first-fruits.

The first-fruits! what first­fruits?

Don't you remember, Sir, that the dispute concerning the Crea­tion of the World is the first-fruits of all disputable questions: and upon that accompt the decision of that controversie as first-fruits belong to him, that has the supream power?

I don't easily call to mind the meaning of these first-fruits.

Look, Sir, but the above­quoted [Page 249] place de Corp. and you'l soon perceive it. For say you there; as Almighty God when he had brought his people into Judaea, allowed the Priests the first-fruits reserved to himself; so when he had delivered up the World to the disputations of men, it was his pleasure that all opinions concerning the nature of infinite and eternal (as the Creation of the World and the like) known only to himself should (as the first fruits of wisdom) be judged by those to whom he had given the supream Authority. I wonder, Sir, you should forget such an admirable reflexion as this: Judaea being so very like the many disputations that are in the World; and that concern­ing the Creation so very like first­fruits. But if you please, Philautus, wee'l go on to the next Complement you bestow upon your Prince. And truly if there ever was a Complement to purpose, this is one: 'tis down, and down, and down again to the ground.

What is it, Tim?

'Tis such a swinger, I can scarce get it out: 'tis only, Sir, whe­ther there be a God or not?

Whether there be a God or not? what shall the Civil Magistrate (whom I never granted to be more than Gods Lieutenant, Lev. p. 361.) determine whether there be a God or not?

Shall he? why not? for all knowledge comes from Phantasms, &c. and no body whom we can trust, has lately seen or discoursed with God Almighty: and 'tis plainly a first-fruits-disputation; i. e. con­cerning infinite and eternal: and all first-fruits disputations belong to the Magistrate.

Whom do you mean: the Hangman? (Lett. to Dr. W. p. 36.)

That's a very good hit: I perceive Philautus begins to be a lit­tle angry; and when so, then a Ma­gistrate, forsooth, in strictness of speech, signifies only some Officer of the Soveraigns, not the Soveraign himself. But you may go on, Phi­lautus; [Page 251] and, if I had occasion for any Latin, I'd put in quae and quaedam too: for I love to cross a man, that is made wholly up of such starch'd cu­riosities. And therefore, I say, you have so far honour'd your Prince or Magistrate, that if he please indeed there shall be a God; but if he be out of humour, there shall be none at all.

What, can he pluck God Al­mighty out of his Throne: and ba­nish him out of the World?

That, Philautus, is a little more than he can do; but (by your great bounty to him) he can banish him out of his Kingdom; or if he can't do it alone, he's to call in the assistance of all his subjects.

I ghess how you mean, Tim; the Prince, I warrant you, is one day or other, to put out a Procla­mation against the existence o [...] a God: and this is to be posted up at every Corner of the streets. Can't I, in passing by, pull off my Hat very low, and cry Vous avez Mr. Prince: [Page 252] and for all that walk religiously home; believing and trusting in God every step that I set; and praising him for all the good Victuals that I have eaten, and all the great victo­ries that I have obtain'd, over such as out of envy have endeavour'd to answer my Books?

But suppose, Philautus, he sends Poker for you, with an Halbert or a Musket.

He need not trouble himself so far: for I am past those vanities, and had much rather go to him pri­vately, than in such pomp.

And when you come there, he tells you that he has been that Morning running o're the World, and the affairs thereof; and, upon the whole, he can't find that there is any God besides himself. What would you then say, Philautus?

I should beg his pardon as to that, as great as he is; and tell him plainly that I know what belongs to a God better than he; and I know that he is no more than Gods Lieu­tenant; [Page 253] and that I am more oblig'd to God (being more powerful) for the several kindnesses that I have re­ceiv'd srom him, and the great mis­chief that he may do me, than I ever was or can be to him.

But if upon that, Philautus, the Lieutenant cocks his Hat, stamps, looks stern and big; and says that he is sure, he is very sure that there is nothing (either in Heaven or Earth) better or greater than himself; and that you shall be sure of it too, be­fore he and you part. What shall we do now, Philautus?

Hah! how i'st? cocks, stamps, stern, big?

Yes; 'tis just so: come I'll tell you what you'd say, Sir:— truly says Philautus, Majesty is not to be put out of humour for every small matter: 'tis pity the Prince should spoil his Hat with cocking it; or his shoes with stamping, or his countenance with frowning: meekness becomes a subject; and therefore I'll be silent. But being silent, Philautus, won't serve your [Page 254] turn: for you must pronounce with a clear and lowd voice that he, be­fore whom you now stand, is not Gods Lieutenant, but God himself: and not only so, but that he is the Almighty, Omnipotent and Eternal God; who, when you were asleep Created you, and all things else; but especially his own great Grandfather; you must say, pronounce, and sub­scribe all this; or else— You need not go on, says Philautus, I am yours, I am yours, Sir: for what is a true Prince but one, to whom all the right and power of the whole Kingdom is transferr'd: and if he comes to his Soveraignty by right of succession I have (Lev. p. 99.) prov'd such Sove­raignty to be a kind of eternity. So that he understands nothing at all of the Generation of a Common-wealth that sticks in the least to grant every absolute Monarch to be Almighty, Om­nipotent and Eternal. But you have not done yet, Philautus, for after all this you must engage to worship the Prince with the very same words, and [Page 255] same postures, as you use to do God Almighty: praying unto him for health, long life, rain, fair-weather and the like: and this you must do so lowd, that all your Neighbours may hear you; and besides, that they may think you to be in good earnest; you must take all publick occasions to curse and blaspheme God, in the most affronting and defying words that can be invented.— That's a little odd, says Philautus, that a Prince, let him be as absolute as he can, should be able to make it rain or hold up. But, now I think of it, by right of subjecti­on I have made over my whole body, and every limb of it to his service: and therefore, if the Prince will send my tongue upon such an errand, it must not refuse to go, no more than my legs, if they were spoken to. And then, says Philautus, as for cursing, blaspheming, &c. God knows my mind well enough as to that: i. e. how I worship him in my heart; and what honour and ser­vice I have done to his Church, to himself and the whole Trinity by my [Page 256] several writings. But still, Philautus, the Prince is not so absolutely secure of you, but you may give him a bob at last. For you know there is a very strong report in this part of the World, that many years agon there was one, that called himself the Christ, that appear'd upon earth: and he taught that it was better to listen to him, than to the commands of Princes; and he said that he came from God, and that he was the true and only Son of God; and, by many things that he said and did, made se­veral to believe the same. Now, if this be so, Philautus, this will be a notable check and rebuff to the un­limited Authority of your Prince. And therefore, if you intend to be a Subject quite through, you must needs also renounce Christ: ('tis a small matter, for Christ, you know, is no more God the Son, than Moses was God the Father.) and believe there never was any such person; but that he was a meer Impostor, or a cheat of the Kingdom of darkness— [Page 257] to that, replies Philautus; I must con­fess, most unlimited and irresistible Sir, that of all things now visible upon ea [...]th, you are to me the greatest and most obliging; and your opini [...]n upon all accompts I am bound to adore: for it is by your great interest in your own Dominions as well as elsewhere, that I continue in fame and health, and am protected from the barbarous insolen­cies of my Adversaries. But whereas 'tis your Princely pleasure to command me not to believe in Christ; (with hum­ble submission to your irresistibility) I think you are, as it were, mistaken: for whatever you appoint [...] to do in affront to Christ; I can therein deceive you, believing on him in my heart: and should your almighty inclinations proceed further, and force me to deny and forswear such beli [...]f (with all ima­ginable dread again be it spoken) 'tis not my heart but my tongue alone that denies or forswears, &c.

But how do you know, Tim, that I'll say or do any of these things? did you ever see me tried?

No: but above twenty years ago you promised to do them all in several places of your Leviathan. And I know you'l be as good as your word; because you desire Mr. Go­dolphin (in your Ep. Ded. to him) to tell all people that are offended at that Book, that you love your own opi­nions. If, say you, ( Lev. p. 360.) I want rain, fair weather or any thing else that God alone can bestow on me; and out of my own humour, wanton­ness, or opinion, I make solemn Prayer for such things to him who has the su­pream Authority; by doing so, I am certainly a very wicked man, and an absolute Idolater; because out of my own heart I give unto the civil Magi­strate that worship which is alone due unto God: but if I be compelled to this by the terrour of death, or any other corporal punishment, I may then do it very safely; without any offence to God Almighty, or scandal to my Neighbour. Well done Carcass! and thus have we turned off Moses, or God the Fa­ther: now let's see how we can get [Page 259] rid of Christ, or God the Son: if, say you, ( Lev. p. 27.) a King, Se­nate, or other Soveraign person forbid me to believe in Christ (if he does not hear me) I'll say he talks non­sense; because belief and unbelief are not subject to mens commands. For faith is a gift of God (that comes well out of Philautus's mouth) which men can neither give nor take away by promise of rewards, or menaces of torture. But if the lawful Prince (be­ing aware of such subtlety) urges further, that I should say with my tongue I believe not in Christ; I can he too cunning for him there also; for I still do but say so: and therefore rather than I'll displease my lawful Prince (O Heavens! how do I love and honour my self, and a lawful Prince!) it shall be done, and ought to be done. For profession with the tongue is but an ex­ternal thing, and no more than any other gesture whereby we signifie our obedience. Rarely come off Carcass again!

I must confess that to this [Page 260] purpose I do speak: and very nigh in the same words: and let Theolo­gers object what they can, I can most easily prove my self to be a true subject of the Christian City; that is, a Son of Christs Church, and an Heir of that Salvation which he has bargain'd for.

Prove, Sir? never in my life did I meet with your fellow for pro­ving: especially considering what inferiour tools you work withal. For you shall talk less morality than a Turk, and less Christianity than a Jew; (for you shall not only swear that Christ is not as yet come, but that he shall never come:) and yet give you but a little Country motion, and ordinary Grammar, and you shall presently be at perch with the Primitive Christians. I deny Christ, suppose, and when that's done I swear that I do it from the very bottom of my Soul: ‘What of all this, says Philautus? denying and swearing too are both meer forms of speech: and speech is but words: and [Page 261] words are but motion: and there­fore that Divine that talks of Blasphemy or Heresie coming out of a mans mouth, whose heart is truly firm; he may as well gape for Blasphemy or Heresie at thè spout of a pair of Bellows. Be­sides, says Philautus, people may prate against my professing with my tongue and so forth; but (to go to the bottom of the business) he that knows but the very first Elements of Government, knows that I have no Tongue at all: for 'tis one of the Princes Tongues that I wear in my mouth: and what's that to me, or any body else what the Prince does with his own tongue? and then, says Phi­lautus again: what wondring is here at my speaking two or three words? is speaking any thing more than a meer gesture of the tongue? and did Naaman, I pray (when he was allow'd to go into the House of Rimmon) leave his tongue at home? did not his tongue also [Page 262] bow together with his head? and did it not, as it were, nod and give consent to what his head and shoulders did? and then in the last place, says Philautus; as for the several places of Scripture which the Ecclesiasticks bring against me: such as those of our Saviour; who­soever denyeth me before men, I will deny him before my Father which is in Heaven: and ye shall be brought before Governours and Kings for my sake, &c. and fear not them that kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul, &c. 'tis plain, that they don't at all understand the History of that Gospel, by which they live: for though our Saviour, at the first planting of Christianity, commanded his Disciples and Apo­stles that they should not be daun­ted, nor give in; but rather suffer any thing, than not stand to the Faith: yet, thanks be to God, says Philautus, such advice is now need­less: for Christian Religion is very well spread and setled now; and [Page 263] has got great footing in the World; and a man may either profess or renounce it (according as it lies for his hand) with a great deal less danger, and inconvenience than formerly: and therefore if two or three subjects in a Kingdom should utterly forsake Christ, there's still enow: and if two or three Kingdoms should do the like; there's still more Kingdoms: and if (the Turk prevailing) Europe, Asia and the rest of the whole World should also do the same; yet Christ is still Christ: and he has had a fine time of it. And there will be a joyful meeting, and great doings about Jerusalem, at the general resurrection: and I hope to be as merry then, as the best of 'em. There be, continues Philautus, I know those who un­derstanding neither Grammar, nor the History of the Gospel shall tell you that, let what will come, they'l not part with Christ; no not for a thousand Worlds. They'l dye, yea [Page 264] and that a thousand Deaths. Dye on, says Philautus; for this is meer Vain-glory, and affected Apostle­ship; and all for want of a good Dictionary. For Martyr (Lev. p. 272.) is a Greek word; (which they, poor Creatures! suffer them­selves to be knock'd off the head, and never think of;) and signifies a witness, an eye-witness; and es­pecially such an one as saw Christ be [...]ore, and after his Resurrection: which few, I suppose, now alive will pretend to have done: or so much as to have seen those that did see Christ: and if there be any such as these latter, they are but Mar­tyrs at the second hand; that is, Martyrs of Christs Martyrs. And therefore if any man has a mind to put himself upon any inconve­nience, or run himself into any danger upon the accompt of Chri­stian Religion, I wish him a good Journey; but I pity him no more than one that should skip off a Stee­ple, for fear he should stumble in [Page 265] coming down the stairs.’ Here's a Christian Politician for you, or a true Member not of Christs Church, (for that's vulgar) but of the Christian City!

I say, Tim, that Martyr does signifie a witness.

And so does amo signifie to love.

That's false; for in strictness of speech it signifies I love.

How quick and nimble Phi­lautus is? well, suppose then that Martyr does signifie a witness: are you willing to be such an one for our Saviour?

That is, will I who was born within these hundred years, be will­ing to be born above sixteen hundred years ago? well ghess'd Tim!

You shall then, Philautus, be a Martyr of a Martyr. I'd fain have you into some employment.

How can I be any such thing? I never met in my Travels with any of the Apostles or Disciples, that were sent into the World to be Witnesses [Page 266] of the Resurrection: and no man can glory in being a Martyr unless he be sent; and he must be sent to Infi­dels too: for what need ( Lev. p. 273.) a witness of Christ be sent to those, that have had sufficient wit­nesses already?

If that be all, Philautus, wee'l speed the Commission, and you shall be sent, &c.

But, I tell you, I had rather stay at home, than be cut o' the Crown like a Goose, to be a Martyr, of a Martyr, of a Martyr, of I know not whom, or what.

I see this Martyrdom (or Greek affliction) won't down with you, Philautus; will you, if need be, for Christ's sake suffer a little in plain English? wee'l engage you shan't be abused, and call'd Martyr: nor have any such improper, and un­fashionable word written upon your Tomb.

How much would you have me suffer: what, dye?

Suppose such a thing should [Page 267] be, Philautus: according to Christian Politicks, you'l clearly be a saver by't; when you meet Christ at Je­rusalem. For when he comes to reign here upon Earth, he has pro­mised, you know, to make very much of those (you may chance to be Chief Secretary of State) who are faithful to the end. And his King­dom, you know, is a dainty fine Kingdom: and worth two or three of the Kingdoms of England.

But 'tis a great way, Tim, to go for preferment to Jerusalem: and it may be a great while, before Christ will come to have his Court there.

I believe indeed it may; af­ter that childish, ridiculous, gross, prophane manner that you describe. Are you not asham'd, Philautus, to pretend to Wit, Philosophy, Mathe­maticks, &c. and to go about to face, and huff down God Almighty, and our Saviour, with such intolera­ble fooleries as first-fruits, Martyr, &c. Was ever old fop so utterly benum', [Page 268] and besotted, as to turn Providence out of the World, to prevent tu­mults and uproars; and to think to complement his Prince, by offering such saucy and witless affronts to God himself? I'll undertake, Philautus, give but a very small-wit sufficient impudence, prophaneness, and a Glass of Wine, he shall abuse the Scriptures, scoff at Heaven, and talk better and more reasonable Atheism ex tempore, than you have labour'd into all your grave Periods.

Hey day! how huffing and swaggering is this Tim, because he has got a few of those same Church­men on his side? who are for a spi­ritual Common-wealth; not minding what I learn them ( Lev. p. 317.) that there are no men on earth whose bodies are spiritual; and therefore there can be no spiritual Common-wealth amongst men that are yet in the flesh. I say, Tim, some such as these, that talk of a spiritual-body-politick you may have on your side; but I am sure all the great Wits, and the men of [Page 269] depth, and business go all my way.

And my Lord Bacon is your way too.

If he were now alive, 'tis likely he would.

Yes very likely: for, says he, in his Essays, it is true, that a lit­tle Philosophy inclineth mans mind to Atheism, but depth in Philosophy bring­eth mens minds about to Religion.

This now is very scurrilous, and most uncharitably said: and if the Bishop of Durham were now alive—

What should he do?

He should testifie, Tim, to the confusion of all my slanderers, ( Ep. Ded. to his Majesty) how god­lily I behav'd my self, when I was ready to dye: and what a sound and clear Conscience I had.

Conscience? that's good in­deed! Conscience, you know, is only when one looks over your shoulder, or in at the Key-hole. For, you remember, there must be two at [Page 270] least, to make up a true Grammati­cal Conscience; (because of cum and scio:) and as for any other Consci­ence (Lev. p. 31.) i. e. knowledge of ones own secret facts or thoughts, that's only a Metaphorical or Rhetorical Conscience. But I pray, Philautus, after what manner did you confess to the Bishop? did you confess with your tongue, or how?

With my tongue? what, Tim, wouldst thou have men confess with their Legs, or Shoulders?

Truly, Philautus, you are such a moveable, slippery, and Phi­losophical kind of Christian, that I think the Church ought to appoint a peculiar sort of confession for you. For if, after you were recovered, you had but met with any body that had a little scar'd you, you should have unconfessed all again; and have sworn, and curs'd, that you did but droll with the Bishop.

Under favour, Tim, that's a lye. For I only say that if my Law­sul Prince or the supreme Magistrate [Page 271] require any such thing, for Peace sake, and to preserve my life I am bound to obey.

And I say, that if the lawsul Ostler, or supream Magistrate of the Stables, should take you into his of­fice, and shew you but a switch (for that may Gangrene) I understand the Principles of your fidelity, and Chri­stian courage so well, that, were he so wicked as to demand it, you should not only renounce all belief in Christ, but all allegiance to your lawsul Prince too: for a breathing time, you know, is very desireable, and whilst he has you in his power, he's to you as good a Lieutenant of God, as any Prince upon earth. And Naaman the Syrian (Lev. p. 271.) shall do for all; for the Ostler, as well as for the Prince himself.

For my part, Tim, I can't see (when compelled) why I may not allow my self as much liberty, as the Prophet did to him.

But how are you sure, Phi­lautus, that the Prophet allow'd him [Page 272] any at all? for there be some, and those learned too, who question whe­ther go in peace signifie Naaman's waiting still upon his Master, &c. or whether he should forthwith leave his service. But suppose it does; do you think, Philautus, that what Naaman did (which may several ways be imagin'd to be far enough from Idolatry) will countervail, or void all those several plain places of Scripture, that are most absolutely against your whimsycal, and pro­phane opinion? but Philautus's Di­vinity is like the Gentlemans, who (a little before he was to suffer for padding) being ask'd by his Con­fessour how he came to follow that employment: told him, that he took it up from Gods advising the Israe­lites to spoil the Aegyptians; which to him, he said, was a plain place for robbing at any time, and any where: whereas thou shalt not steal, and the like, were all typical and metaphori­cal; and only true upon some occa­sions. But 'tis wonderfully strange [Page 273] to me that his Majesty should suffer it—

Suffer what, suffer me—

No, Sir: suffer his spightful, ambitious Priests to preach in his Chappel against you.

So 'tis, Tim: and I make bold to tell his Majesty to that pur­pose, in an Epistle Dedicatory to him.

And you did very well so to do, Sir: for Naaman will do against the whole Bible; and a line or two out of Tertullian (nothing to the purpose) against all the Fa­thers. And seeing you are so firmly fixt in the Catholick Faith, and are so condescending and dutiful to all lawful Princes, certainly they ought to be very careful to check and re­buke the adversaries of such a dear and devout Subject. And therefore let's see if we can't find never ano­ther Complement for the Prince. If I ben't mistaken ( Lev. p. 205.) there is a pretty obliging one: viz. that if the Civil Magistrate please, he may [Page 274] take away the word of God (for we have had it e'en long enough) and instead thereof, give us Gusman, your Leviathan, or whatever else he thinks most convenient for his Com­mon-wealth. For in the first place 'tis plain say you, that the Book which is now called the word of God is not really and grammatically the word of God: i. e. 'tis neither the Noun of God, nor the Verb of God, nor any other part of Speech of God. But, be it what it will, it obliges no further than the Civil Magistrate pleaseth: who by making it law, made it first to oblige; and by re­pealing that Law can make it not to oblige. The Old Testament indeed was a Law, but to the Jews only, ne­ver to us. The New Testament ne­ver was a Law to any body at all, till 'twas made so by Princes and Em­perours. For Christ was no Law­giver: neither (if he had made any Laws) had he any Kingdom to pra­ctise in: neither did he by his civil Authority command any thing; but [Page 275] only advis'd and counsel'd, &c. and sent out the Apostles to do the like; who were to fish and allure; (Lev. p. 270.) not like Nimrods by coerci­tion and punishing to hunt men into Christianity.

Most of this is true, Tim: but first of all I must chastise thee, for thy great saw [...]yness in comparing my Leviathan to such a Raskallion­scoundrel-Book as Gusman: and in the next place, for supposing me to be ambitious of having the Bibles turn'd out of Churches, and my Le­viathan made Canonical.

As for Gusman, Philautus, I am not, I must confess, much skill'd in that Author; (and if I were, it would take up a little too long time to debate the business throughly be­tween you two) but if that Book ben't ten times worse than any I ever saw yet, I don't question but it will furnish out a much honester Gentle­man, a more faithful subject, and a truer Christian than yours shall do. And then as for your Leviathan be­ing [Page 276] made Canon; you know well enough, Philautus, 'twas a thing you your self were not without some hopes of.

What, Tim, did I ever hope, wish, or desire that my Leviathan might be appointed by Act of Parlia­ment to be publickly read in all Churches, instead of the Bible?

You shall hear, Sir: Seeing, say you, (Lev. p. 293.) that neither Plato nor any other Philosopher hi­therto, hath put into order and suffici­ently proved all the Theorems of mo­ral doctrine, that men may learn thereby how to govern, and how to obey; I recover some hopes, say you, that one time or other, this writing of mine may fall into the hands of a So­veraign, who will consider it himself (for 'tis short, and I think clear) with­out the help of any interessed, or envi­ous interpreter; and by the exercise of entire Soveraignty, in protecting the publick teaching of it, convert this truth of speculation, into the utility of practice. 'Tis worth any Soveraigns [Page 277] pains indeed, to take a progress of a year or two to settle and protect in his Kingdom a Company of such speculations, which, if practis'd, would (for all your kindness to him) cer­tainly ruine him.

But here's not a word, Tim, of my ever hoping that the Bible should give way to my Leviathan. What made you say that I had any such expectation or ambition?

Don't you remember, Phi­lautus, what a huffing challenge you once sent to a Doctor of Divinity: how that you and your Leviathan should preach with him and his Bi­ble? and that without any such cere­monious foolery as ordination; only the Soveraign should lend you one of his Life-guard to see you into the Pulpit, and to bang those that would not believe you. If, say you (as I take it 'tis in your Stigmai) the So­veraign power give me command (though without the ceremony of im­position of hands) to teach the doctrine of my Leviathan in the Pulpit, why [Page 278] am not I, if my doctrine and life be as good as yours, a Minister as well as you. Right; why are you not? for 'tis plain that you have the word of command, as well as the Doctor; and a Minister has nothing more. And as for Authority, you are well enough with him; for if he swaggers, and produces the Bishops Orders; then can you bid your Life-guard man swagger too, and cock his Pi­stols: and then as to the Book that is preach'd out of, there's no diffe­rence at all between you. For you preaching out of your Leviathan preach out of a Bible, as well as he. For a Bible (in Greek) is only a Book: and most certainly your Le­viathan is a Book: and a most rare one too. But I pray, Philautus, how came it into your mind that the word of God does not oblige as much, (if not a little more) than the word of a Prince? I must confess indeed that in the beginning of the 36th Chap­ter of your Leviathan, you have a very notable observation concerning [Page 279] the word of God (as was just now hinted) which, I don't remember, I ever met with in any Author: but I don't see, but that it may oblige for all that, without the supream Ma­gistrate's drawing his sword. When there is mention, say you, of the word of God, it doth not signifie a part of speech such as Grammarians call a Noun or a Verb, or any simple voice, without a contexture of other words to make it significative; but a perfect speech or discourse, whereby the speaker affirmeth, denieth, commandeth, pro­miseth, wisheth, or interrogateth: (I profess Philautus would have been a thundering Preacher: how he pours it out! affirmeth, denieth, command­eth, &c.) in which sense 'tis not vocabulum, that signifies a word (I pray, Gentlemen, remember that, and turn down a proof;) 'tis not voca­bulum but sermo (in Greek [...] ) that is, some speech, discourse or say­ing. Without doubt, if the So­veraign had sent out Philautus, this same had been the beginning of his [Page 280] first holding forth. 'Tis a most ad­mirable introduction to a body of Divinity. But to proceed, Philau­tus, suppose the word of God (as you have most painfully and learnedly made it out) is neither Noun, Pro­noun, Verb, Participle, nor any of the rest, but only the speech or discourse of God: I pray do so much as let me know (I desire it once more) some of your best reasons why this same speech, or discourse of God (seeing you'l so have it) does not oblige us to believe it and practise it, unless it be authoriz'd by Kettle­drums, and Trumpets.

Best reasons? what an impu­dent trick is this of Tim, to call for my best reasons? any surely are good enough for such a fellow as thou art: in the first place, if thou canst, thou art to understand that what­ever was laid down by Christ him­self, or his Apostles after him, as it was laid down by him or them, ne­ver did, neither does it now at all oblige.

I am such a fool, Philautus, that methinks I had much rather mind, and observe what our Saviour said, than any thing that can be commanded by the General of an Army.

You may mind and observe what you will; but (take that from me) you'l have little thanks for your labour. For it does not at all oblige, ( Lev. p. 284, 285.) as pro­pounded by him.

Why so?

Because 'tis not Canonical.

Canonical? did not Christ and they that followed him give Articles of Faith, and rules of an holy life?

Yes: but neither he nor any of his Successours did ever lay down one obligatory Canon. For such a Canon is a Rule authoriz'd and in­join'd by the Common-wealth, &c. and that only is truly said to be Ca­nonical, which is allow'd of, and made Canonical by the Soveraign: that is to say which is made Law in [Page 282] any Kingdom: for a Law is the com­mandment of that man, or assembly to whom we have given—

Really, Philautus, if you don't leave that trick, I'll get a new man to talk withal.

What trick?

You can't come near the word Law, but presently you spring forth— for a Law is the command­ment of that man or assembly, &c. and when 'tis every whit to as little purpose, as 'tis here.

To as little purpose? by the definition alone of a Law, namely, that a Law is the commandment of that man, or—

What, shall we have it again?

I say, by that definition of a Law it is very evident that not any one Rule or precept in the whole New-Testament was an obligatory Ca­non: i. e. did really oblige any man living till the New-Testament was made Law. And I am sure it never was made Law till—

Till when? till 'twas made [Page 283] Law. That's all that Philautus will engage for: for he's a very wary Gamester, and he's as sure as can be that the Gospel was never publickly owned, nor appointed by any Prince to be read in any Kingdom or Com­mon-wealth; till that very day, hour, and minute that it was so own'd, and appointed, &c. Philautus, I say, is very sure of this; and thus much he will certainly undertake for, and no more.

'Tis false: for I undertake further to shew, that whatever our Saviour propounded to be done in order to Salvation (till obedience thereunto was commanded by the Soveraign-Ruler) was so far from obliging, that every man, without the least injustice, might refuse to ob­serve—

For injustice, (should you have said) is a breach of the com­mandment of that man, or assem­bly—

Should have said? what, Tim, dost thou undertake to teach me [Page 284] what I should have said: don't I know when to break of, and when to go on?

Indeed, Sir, I think that in all right the definition of injustice ought to have come in there: for then the business had been plainly demonstrated.

'Tis plainly demonstrable, Tim, that any man might refuse to obey whatever our Saviour said (till 'twas made Law) without being un­just at all.

Without being unjust? to whom do you mean, Philautus?

To whom can a man be un­just but to his lawful Soveraign; and to those with whom he contracts ac­cording to the Laws of his Country.

Yes, yes: so I thought: I knew as well as could be, that the demonstration would be thereabouts.

What did you know, Tim?

I know this, Philautus; that a man may neglect to obey the pre­cepts of Christ, and yet not be at all guilty of transporting of Leather, or Wool.

How do you mean, Tim?

I mean this, Philautus; sup­pose I (being a subject of a Kingdom wherein there were no positive Laws against swearing or private Revenge, but plain and severe ones against transportation of Leather, and Wool) had been present at our Saviour's Sermon; and believed him and his doctrine: but notwithstanding had still continued a great swearer, and a most revengeful wretch; thus far I durst venture to say (and truly you may safely go along with me) that swearing, to define it strictly, is not transportation of Leather, nei­ther is revenge transportation of Wool.

Nor are they a direct breach of any other particular Law of the Kingdom.

How can they possibly be? what are you mad, Philautus? would you have those things to be a breach of the Laws of that Kingdom, which we have supposed not to have taken notice of any such things? never cer­tainly did Catchpole, Pettifogger, For­ger [Page 286] of Wills, more intangle, shuffle, wrest, scrape, and patch, &c. to bring about their villanous designs: than you have rack'd and tortur'd those two poor words of Law and Justice to make your self singular in Irreligion. And as in your Morals, you have thereby endeavour'd to debauch humane nature, and to taint the very foundations of practical rea­son: so here you use the same silly artifice to frustrate the intentions of Christs coming into the World, and to void the obligation of those Precepts that he left behind him.

You much mistake me, Tim, if you think me to be against Christ, or his Precepts: for Faith in him, and obedience to Laws is all that I count necessary to Salvati [...]n. But thus much I say further, that nothing which either our Saviour or his Apo­stles propounded was truly Law, or did oblige; for neither he, nor they had any Kingdom. And though there were many Kingdoms in the World; over which Christ, if he had pleas'd, [Page 287] might have challeng'd to himself the Soveraign Power; yet 'tis plain, that he utterly disown'd all such publick and Regal authority, by saying, my Kingdom is not of this World. Now, say I, ( Lev. p. 286.) they that have no Kingdom, can make no Laws.

Well rhimed, Philautus! Kingdom and Law.

Why, can any man, Tim, make a Law, that is, give out some rule to be observed in a Nation, who has no Nation to give it to? must not a man have Soveraign right to do it, and strength and authority to make it take effect?

Truly, Philautus, I cannot forbear to say, that if a private Coun­try-Gentleman, in a rainy day, should contrive a set of Laws; and send them, by the packet Boats into Fo­reign Countries, to look for a Nation, and people to observe them; but that some of his Laws may chance to come home again unobserved.

No question, Tim, but that they would: and the reason is be­cause [Page 288] all Nations are ready stock'd; and there's never a void Nation for the Gentleman to vent his Laws in: and a Law is no Law, but where it is, or ought to be obeyed.

But, I suppose, you don't look upon our Saviour (who was im­mediately sent from God, and whom we believe, not minding what you do, to be the Son of God) to be only a private person. Surely, Phi­lautus, if you believe any God at all, you must also believe that he can both make and protect Laws without dispossessing of Princes, and keeping his standing Armies. You may remember that Christ could vio­lently have been rescued by twelve Legions of Angels: and could have sent for as many to have enforc'd his Doctrine: which if he had done, then possibly it might have agreed with your great curiosity to have ad­mitted his Precepts to have had the force of Laws: but, why do I talk to Philautus of such vain-Philosophy as twelve Legions of Angels; which [Page 289] to him are only twelve Legions of Phantasms; all to be discomfited with the brandishing of Horn-knifes, and the blast of Elder-Guns?

I don't at all regard, Tim, any of all this: being most fully assur'd that I never read that Christ was chosen supream Magistrate of any place.

Neither did you, I warrant you, ever read that he was so much as chosen Over-seer, or Church-Warden of any Parish.

You are prophane, Tim.

I bless God, that I believe Christ to be his Son; and that I am more oblig'd to observe his Precepts (without your indulgent favouring them to be termed Laws) than the most immediate and direct com­mands of all the Princes in the World: and he that believes other­wise, I suppose, is the man that justly deserves the title of prophane.

You may believe what you will, Tim: but 'tis plain that Christ never took upon himself the Govern­ment [Page 290] of any Nation; neither would he accept of any place of authority or publick employment.

And I pray, Philautus, what do you think might be the reason of it? don't you think it was for fear people should not only believe his doctrine, but count themselves oblig'd to practise it? was not that, Philautus, think you the business? was it not to prevent some such great absurdity and inconvenience that might have happen'd in the World? whereas now every one enjoys a most reasonable and blessed Liberty: and if the Gospel stands with a mans con­venience, and be the fashionable Book at Court, it may then be read and practis'd not without some delight, and benefit: but when it either crosses my own particular interest, or the irresistible humour of my most dreadful Prince, thanks be to God, there be other judicious and practi­cal Authors, in which a retired and studious Gentleman may make shift to spend his time, without any ways [Page 291] disobliging Gods second representa­tive, Jesus Christ. This, Philautus, is such a kind of devout meditation as, I suppose, you take bed-ward. And from hence any one, that is not utterly blind, may plainly perceive, what it is that you count obligation: that is, when a man is so chain'd, rop'd or chorded down to his bar­gain that he can't possibly avoid sub­mitting to't; such a man and none else will you allow to be truly ob­lig'd. Neither must he be fasten'd with such Chains and Chords as the joys and terrors of another life; for they are at a great distance, and with Philautus, very metaphorical: but he is for visible Grammatical Hemp, and Iron, such as grow upon, and is digged out of the Earth. Where these things be, there's rea­son, law, justice, and obligation; but where they are missing, a man is as free as any fish in the Ocean. Thus if a man, suppose, has an hundred pound weight of shackles about him, and be under good store of locks; I [Page 292] believe Philautus will grant such an one to be very properly and strictly oblig'd not to ride an Hunting: and if a man has half a dozen Pikes tick­ling him at the tail, 'tis likely that he also may be look'd upon a sob­lig'd to march on: but if I pri­vately without either witness or writings borrow a hundred pounds of a friend—

If you do, you ought to pay it him again, upon demand.

I ought? why so; how am I oblig'd? where's the shackles, where's the Pikes, &c?

But you know well enough, Tim, that you did really and truly borrow of him so much money.

Yes, Sir, that I do very well: but do you think, Philautus, that when a Gentleman has intrusted me with such a great secret as an hun­dred pounds, that I am such a great Booby, as to blab out this in open Court?

But you forget Conscience all this while, Tim.

No more than you have for­gotten it in all your writings. Can't I say to Conscience, Couchée Con­science: down Conscience: close and be still Conscience. That man certainly is a very passionate fool, that has so little command of his mouth, as not to be able to keep it shut, when 'tis so much to his disad­vantage to open it. And se [...]ing we are faln upon Conscience, Philautus, let us put one case more: suppose you find a Neighbour of yours in a Ditch, just ready to perish: whose life, by wetting the end of your Cane, you might easily preserve—

O, help him out, help him out, by all means. What a Man, a Neighbour, and a Christian and not help him out!

To what purpose? do you owe him a helping out, or do you lay in one aforehand? you don't con­sider, Philautus, that the end of your Cane being wetted may catch cold; and this cold (by motion) may creep up to your hand; and seising your [Page 294] hand, by degrees it may get into the whole mass of blood: and so bring you into some dangerous distemper; a distemper that may cost you ano­ther confession: and if the Bishop be out of the way; you must then send for the Lord Lieutenant of the County: for he'l do as well as t'other being commission'd by the Prince: and, of the two, is the best and safest Con­f [...]ssour: for he is one of the immedi­ate Lieutenants, under Gods Lieute­nant; and, if need be, can raise all his Militia, to defend such a confes­sion as he and you shall agree upon. I say, Philautus, seeing your helping him out may occasion you so much trouble, if I were you, I'd e'en let our Neighbour pass on in the busi­ness, he has begun. For if you don't, there is still one much greater mis­chief that you don't think of.

What's that?

If, Philautus, you help him out of the Ditch now: you must needs so contrive it, that he may help you out another time.

To what end, I prethee, Tim, should I wet and endanger my self when I need not?

There is a most absolute ne­cessity of it. For if you omit to do't; this Neighbour of yours will be your utter Enemy, despise you, hate you, and as certainly contrive your death, as you help'd him out of the Ditch.

If I thought so, Tim, he should e'en have gone on, for all Philautus, till he came to the bot­tom. What, shall I be thus rewar­ded for my great pains, and cle­mency? shall he conspire to take away my life, because I endanger'd mine own, to save his? this truly is very fine ingenuity, and morality!

'Tis just such ingenuous mora­lity as you teach your Disciples, and would have them to practise. To have received, (say you, Lev. p. 481.) from one, to whom we think our selves equal, greater benefits than there is hope to requite, disposeth to counterfeit love; (meer cou [...]terfeit [Page 296] love: he may come, Philautus, to your Bedside Morning and Evening, and there ask you blessing, and pre­tend to adore and worship you; but all this is only to spy out some cun­ning place to lay a Barrel of Gun­powder, and to blow you up: for, as you go on very morally) such be­nefits do really produce secret hatred; and puts a man into the estate of a desperate Debtor, that in declining the sight of his Creditor, tacitely wishes him there, where he might never see him more. (That would be just your case, Philautus; for the ingenuous Neighbour, whom you have so much oblig'd, may, as was said, pretend to come to see you, but at his heart he wishes ten thousand Devils would fetch you away, so that he might never see you again) for, as you further go on, benefits oblige; and ob­ligation is thraldom; and unrequita­ble obligation, perpetual thraldom, which is to ones equal hateful.

What a wondring you make, Tim, at this sentence? whereas, I am [Page 297] confident, I could prove the truth of it from Histories of all Ages.

I don't at all question, but that in all Ages you may find Rogues and Raskals, somewhere or other: and 'tis plain that that's the very method you took, to make up your moral Philosophy. And whereas other Writers upon that subject were so civil to humane nature, and studious of the good of Mankind as to draw their observations from the most brave, the most vertuous, an [...] most generous of Men and Princes: Phi­lautus (as may have formerly been hinted) that he might be si [...]gular, and sufficiently scandalize his own kind, appeals to nothing else but to the very dregs, and sink; to the most vile and most unreasonable practi [...]es for his Authority. Obligation is thral­dom! and unrequitable obligation per­petual thraldom and hateful!

What, han't you done won­dring yet, Tim?

No, Sir: and I say fu [...]her he that thinks so, and behaves him­self [Page 298] accordingly: thinks non-sense, and behaves himself like a Beast.

How do you know, Tim, but that Kings may have done so?

And how can I help it, if Kings won't live and act like men? why, Philautus, for all your bounti­ful condescentions and mighty cringes to him that has the supream Autho­rity; I believe that such an one, if he don't observe the laws of nature (which are known well enough with­out his interpretation) may as plain­ly and easily be proved a Tyrant, in the Court of reason; as an ordinary Subject that refuseth to obey his Laws, may be proved a Rebel in Westmin­ster-Hall. But we are not at lea­sure, Philautus, for that dispute now.

If you be, I am ready for you: but if you ben't then let me tell you; that it is thought by some that Sir William Stanley far'd ne'er the better for his overmuch-obliga­tion that he laid upon King Henry the 7th. in Bosworth-field.

If, upon that very accompt, he far'd the worse, I say—

What do you say? What, Tim, prate against Kings?

No, Sir; but I say that his present Majesty (God bless him) is a reasonable and great man, as well as a great King: who, when highly ob­lig'd by a late subject, could never be perswaded, by your sort of puny, and ill-natur'd Politicians, to think it tedious or reproachful so to be.

That was because he was his superiour, and able to requite him; but the obligation which I observe to be hateful is unrequitable obliga­tion, such as is, for the most part, only amongst equals.

Come, come Philautus; for a need you can hate without standing upon the curiosity of equals: for if the obligation be but unrequitable, let it be where it will, 'tis hateful to you. And upon this accompt, I suppose, it may be that seeing our blessed Saviour has laid, by his Death, an infinite and unrequitable [Page 300] obligation upon all Mankind; there­fore to revenge this kindness, you renounce both him and his Gospel.

This is only railing, Tim, to which I have been so long accustom'd; that I am pretty well season'd against it. For still I keep to this that no­thing can be a Law, that is, a Pre­cept that obliges, unless he that lays it down has both authority to do it, and coercive secular-power to make it good.

And would any man in the World, but such a mad one as Phi­lautus, think that a Commission, such as our Saviour had from the great God of Heaven and Earth should be of less authority than a ticket from Jack of Austria, or any tiny-earthly Potentate: or that those eternal re­wards and punishments which our Saviour plainly promises and threa­tens should be less obliging than run­ning the Gantelet, or an hours set­ting in the stocks? but I know very well what it is that Philautus drives at: viz. if our Saviour had either [Page 301] determin'd the breadth of Stuffs, or the weight of bread: or had set a certain mulct or fine presently to be levy'd upon every iniquity, then possibly he might have passed for a Lawgiver; and his word might have been taken without a Canonical Cer­tificate from two Justices of the Peace. But to say that he that lives and dies in sin shall be eternally damn'd, was only a figurative expres­sion, and a meer frolick which Christ began, and spoke to his Apostles and Disciples to put about.

I am sure that the Gospel would find but very little entertain­ment, were it not for the Sword of Justice.

Why what, I pray, does the Sword of Justice towards the making the Gospel oblige? does the Magi­strate thrust down the Gospel into his Subjects bellies, with his Sword of Justice? if he did, 'twould do them but very little good. For 'tis plain, Philautus, to any one that knows [Page 302] what belongs to Religion; that this same Sword of Justice which is to make the Scriptures Canonical has so very little of any obliging vertue in it, that he that does not count him­self oblig'd to obey the Precepts of Christ, only because Christ gave them ( i. e. without your Sword of Justice) is as far from salvation, as one that never heard of Christ at all.

I suppose you don't imagine, Tim, the command of a lawful Prince to blast the obligation of the Gospel.

No: but, I suppose, he that obeys the Gospel only out of com­plaisance to his Prince, will obey any other Book out of the same [...]omplaisance; having no other God, nor Religion, but Power and the Sword.

'Tis a very strange thing to me that the commands of Princes should have such little vertue in them; whereas the chief thing that [Page 303] our Saviour order'd his Disciples to Preach, was obedience to Magi­strates. And therefore St. Paul bids Children to obey their Parents in all things; and servants in all things to obey their Masters: now, if it was Christs mind that such little Poten­tates, as Fathers and Masters of Fa­milies, should be obey'd in all things; what shall we say to Fathers and Ma­sters of Kingdoms?

What shall we say? we must say that they must be obey'd in more than all things.

In more than all things? that's non-sense, Tim, and impossi­ble. But it was certainly our Savi­ours intention that they should be obey'd as far as was possible, i. e. in all things.

Without doubt, Sir: and therefore when our Saviour Preach'd up obedience to Magistrates, and said that he came not to destroy but fullfil the Law, his meaning certainly, Philautus, must be this: viz. ‘Where­as [Page 304] I, who am the true Son of God, am come into the World to give Salvation, and the true means lead­ing thereunto; which are meek­ness, sobriety, fidelity, charity, &c. yet, not to deceive you, you are to know that at present, I am only in a private capacity; and this is no command, but only my private opinion, judgment and advice: and therefore if the supream Magistrate calls upon you to cheat, lye, swear, whore, sink, damn; and to despise and renounce me and my doctrine; never boggle or stand to consider of it; but do't, do't: mind not at all what I said: for I call'd in now, only by the by: and this is a time only of friendly counsel and invitation. My time of com­manding is not as yet come. But I shall have a time of it afterwards; and that a very great one, when I come to be seated at Jerusalem; and then I shall have great strength and a long Retinue: but in the [Page 305] mean while— obey in all things, whatever I say to the contrary.’ This is the very truth and bot­tom, Philautus, of all your Christi­anity.

I am sure of this, that nei­ther Christ nor his Apostles did any thing more than counsel and invite; never did he, or they impose, or command.

That is, when Christ sent out his Disciples to preach the Gos­pel, he did not bid them fire a Musket at every sentence: and when St. Paul exhorted the Corin­thians to stand fast in the Faith; he did not bid them do't, in the Kings name.

No; nor in any other name of secular Authority.

No; for according to you, they only went up and down the World crying the Gospel: for a Preacher (as you observe) in Latin is Praeco; that is, a Cryer or Procla­mation-maker and as the Prophet Esay [Page 306] ( Lev. p. 286.) invites and calls: ho, every man that thirsteth, &c. so they that were sent out to preach the Gospel did nothing more, but knock at mens doors, and cryed ho, will you have any Gospel within? or else got upon a stool in the Market, and made Proclamation of the Gos­pel there; which, according to Phi­lautus, (without any sin) need not be any more minded than the singing of a Ballad: for Christ has no King­dom as yet; and where no Kingdom, there's no command, and consequent­ly no obligation. That a Philosopher and Poet should write this for sense or wit; or that any body else should take it for such in the reading! for, as for Religion, that's not to be re­garded.

I am sure I have had many a serious thought about Religion: and have been very careful to keep a Conscience void of offence towards God, and towards my lawful Prince: for my lawful Prince is to be minded.

Yes, Sir, your Prince must be minded: and truly you have complemented up a fine one. But let me tell you he's not absolute and perfect, till you have remov'd one objection.

What's that?

You must needs take away Heaven and Hell: but especially Hell.

I don't take away Hell.

No; not quite; but you make such a little, pretty, easie, reasona­ble, convenient Hell for Villains, Traytors, Tyrants, and Atheists, as ne­ver was invented. ‘Let me see, say you ( Lev. p. 238.) I have promis'd my lawful Prince (or the Ostler) to blaspheme God, re­nounce Christ and burn my Bible: and for Peace and Govern­ment have advis'd others to do the like: but there be some squeam­ish, Clergyfied, disloyal Simpletons that will be afraid of Hell. There­fore I must needs make a little, [Page 308] pretty, tiny Hell. For otherwise my Eternal Almighty Prince may chance to be disobey'd, and the Peace disturbed.’ I shall only give you most of your own words, and so take leave. Seeing, say you, that the maintainance of civil society dependeth on justice, and justice on the power of life and [...], and other less reward [...] and punishments residing in them that have the Soveraignty of the Common-wealth; and seeing that 'tis im­possible that a Common-wealth should stand, where any other than the Soveraign hath a power of giving greater rewards than life; and of inflicting greater pu­nishments than death: and seeing sur­ther that it is reported by Poets and some Bagpipe Divines, that Eternal life is a greater reward than the lise present, and Eternal torment a greater punish­ment, than the death of nature; there­fore, say you, let us make a pretty good Heaven, to invite people to obedience to Magistrates: but a very little Hell (about the bigness of a [Page 309] Quartan-Ague) for fear people should obey God more than Men. And ac­cordingly you do't.

My Hell is a very reasonable Hell.

I remember so much of it that all the men that ever were in the World are to live upon earth at the same time; and [...], they'l eat up one another in a day and a night or thereabouts, for want of pasture. Cast it up and you'l find it so: you are a Mathematician: and so fare­well.

What won't you talk a little about the Trinity, &c?

I know what Persona signi­fies in the Dictionary, and therein lies all your Divinity. And there­fore, I say again, Farewell.