The Parable of the Pilgrim, Parable · Chapter 32
CAP. XXXII.
How they light upon a company of ſelect Friends who were met at a frugal, but handſome Dinner. The commendation of Temperance. Of the pleaſure that Friends enjoy in eating together. The benefit of Friendſhip. With the Character of a true friend.
IN ſuch diſcourſe as this they paſſed with much pleaſure a long ſtage of their journey. At the end of which, being thirſty, they called at a place where one would think that Heaven deſigned to give the Pilgrim an example of innocent pleaſure. For here they found a knot of loving neighbours at a frugal dinner; who ſeemed to feaſt one another more with their mutual good converſation, then with any other chear that was provided. Their eyes told that they were very merry: and that there was a true love in their hearts, their countenance and free converſe did plainly declare. There was nothing ſuperfluous, but all very handſome; no looſneſs but great great freedom; no noiſe but much innocent pleaſure. They were diſpoſed to Mirth rather then joy; to chearfulfulneſs rather then jollity; and to entertain themſelves with a grateful variety rather then abundance of meat and drink. This fight did very much affect the young mans heart, and when they were gone, he began to ſpeak in the praiſe of Temperance, and to commend their happineſs who could contain themſelves within the limits of Sobriety. For this ſaid he is the Miſtreſs of health, and alſo of wiſe and pure thoughts. It refreſhes the Body and doth not burden the mind. It caſts down neither of them to the ground, but raiſes both to their juſt pitch of pleaſure. It continues us free and fit for any employment, but eſpecially that of thanking God for all his bleſſings, which is the Nobleſt of all. It leaves us capable to enjoy the things of the other world when we have enjoyed as much as we pleaſe of this. It ſuffers reaſon to retain its throne, or rather exalts and advances its Supremacy every day to a greater height. Nay, it preſerves our taſte, and renders our palate more exact then other mens are: for all the ſenſes I perſwade my ſelf when ruled by reaſon, muſt needs be more upright Judges, then when that is abſent and ſet aſide. And therefore me thinks, there is nothing more preſerves the honour and reverence that is due to our natures, then this Vertue. It maintains the Majeſty of our countenance, the luſtre of our eyes, the graceful deportment of our whole Man. Whereas all the world confeſſes, and it is their common ſpeech that a man in drink, is Nothing elſe but a man diſguiſed. He looks baſely; he is the … of children and fools; he is pointed & laughed at, as if he were ſome monſter; he is the ſport and … …ven of thoſe who have thus diſrobed him of himſelf. And as for them whoſe brains are ſo ſtrong that they have overcome him, and think it an honour to be able to hold more then the reſt of their fellows; this glory is their ſhame. They are the Vermin of the Earth who live to conſume the goods of others, and to waſte the patrimony of the Poor. And when they brag of their Victories they are ſo ſilly as not to remember what one of the Philoſophers ſaith, that they are overcome by the Hogſhead which is far more capacious than themſelves. Nay, I cannot but think thoſe people who know no pleaſure but high fare, the joy of whoſe life depends upon full Tables, and as full Bellies, who love nothing like Feaſts, and would have them as ſumptuous as Sacrifices; to be a ſort of creatures much inferiour to ſome Beaſts; who though they are not capable to govern themſelves, yet are ruled by us, and rendred ſerviceable and profitable to the world. But theſe are good for nothing but only to devour; and commonly they follow this trade ſo long that they devour themſelves and all that belongs unto them.
No doubt, ſaid the good Father, (who here thought fit to interrupt him) the praiſes which you beſtow upon Temperance are very juſt, and you can never commend it to exceſs. Which procures me therefore the greater grief when I ſee ſo few in the World who live according to the rules of this Vertue. Their number is very ſmall who are not corrupted with the love of theſe ſenſual pleaſures. Though they do not fall into ſuch high debauches as you ſpeak of, not drinking as if they were in a perpetual feavour, nor eating as if they were laying in proviſion for a long Siege: (which me thinks is a good deſcription which I have heard ſome give of their exceſs) yet they are not many who meaſure their meals by their needs; and they are not to be told who are Bibbers of Wine, and love to ſit long at compotations, and deſign to make proviſion for the fleſh, that they may fulfil the luſts thereof. Nay, which is ſaddeſt of all, there are too many of thoſe who profeſs to be Religious, whoſe God is their belly. They love Feaſts, and hunt after good chear. And if it be but ſanctified with a Sermon, Gourmandiſe is innocent in their account. Like ſome naughty Chriſtians in the Elder times whom I mentioned before, who thought they might carouſe and drink as long as they would, ſo they did but ſit with a mortified face upon the Martyrs Tombs. And it were ſome comfort if their ſin ended here; but their Intemperance is the Mother and fruitful Parent of many other Vices. A long train of ſins as well as diſeaſes waits upon this, and follows it juſt at the heels. It both brings in and it uncovers every other evil inclination. It removes that Modeſty, which ſtands more in the way than any thing elſe of moſt mens bad endeavours. It baniſhes all ſhame, ſo that there is nothing left to oppoſe any wickedneſs. Who hath woe, who hath ſorrow, who hath contention, who hath babling, who hath wounds without cauſe? They that tarry long at Wine, they that go to ſeek mixt Wine; as the Wiſe man tells us. Whatſoever evil diſpoſitions are in the mind, then they take opportunity to ſhew themſelves. Malice is brought into open view, and ſpits its venom. The proud ſpirit is lay'd bare, and ſeeks no pretence for its inſolence. The furious man is left naked of all his guards, and cares not whom he miſchieves. The luſtful man uncovers himſelf, and ſcarce waits for ſecrecy to fulfil his deſires. And truly I wiſh I could not ſay that this Folly which is the moſt filthy of all, was not the common iſſue of that of which we ſpeak. There is more of this uncleanneſs in the World than you imagine. They that wear the countenance of Religious people are led, I aſſure you, by their Cups to the Brothel-houſes, and paſs from the Taverns to the Stews. So it was of Old, and the ſame Villany continues ſtill; that many turn the Grace of God into laſeiviouſneſs. And if you would know who they are, the ſame Apoſtle tells you, that they were ſuch as feaſting with others, did feed themſelves without fear. Jude 4.12And ſo St. Peter alſo lets us know, that they who accounted it pleaſure to riot in the day-time (in the clear light of the Goſpel) had eyes full of adultery, 2 Pet. 2.13, 14and could not ceaſe from ſin. But I will leave theſe men who are gone in the way of the falſe Prophet Balaam, who taught the Children of Iſrael to commit fornication. Only let me leave thoſe words of the Apoſtle with them;2 Pet. 2.14 They are Wells without water, Clouds that are carried with a tempeſt, to whom the miſt of darkneſs is reſerved for ever. Nor will I ſay any more of the reſt of thoſe ſins which attend upon an intemperate life, which makes a mans Soul like a piece of low ground, which by reaſon of abundance of wet, brings forth nothing but Frogs, and Worms, and Adders, all manner of wickedneſs which either diſhonours God, or hurts our ſelves and our neighbours. I will rather turn my eyes to a more pleaſant ſight, and comfort them with the remembrance of thoſe Good men whom we ſaw juſt now ſo happily met together. And me thinks it is a very great felicity in this falſe World, to find but one face among ſo many Vizors; and to be able to lay hold on ſomething that hath truth and ſubſtance in it among ſo many ſhadows. Having found therefore a little number of ſeriouſly ſober perſons, it cannot but make me rejoyce the more that Temperance hath ſome Clients, and that ſhe is not forſaken of all her followers.
But though this be very true, that we do deſervedly praiſe this Vertue and all her Servants; yet me-thinks you ſhould have obſerved ſomething elſe at that meeting which is worthy of your commendation. Did not the very meeting it ſelf ſeem a very comely ſight? And was you not glad to behold ſo many kind neighbours aſſembled at that decent entertainment? To me there is not a more agreeable ſpectacle than a company of ſelect friends, vacant of buſineſs, and full of chearfulneſs, met together at one table. And I cannot imagine that a man who underſtands pleaſure, can wiſh any equal to this, that he might make one in ſuch an happy ſociety. You may think indeed that it is ſufficient to our delight, if we can meet our friends any where: But I am of the mind that the pleaſure is redoubled when they refreſh their bodies and their minds both together. I hate indeed your great Feaſts; where perſons that never ſaw one the other before, nor ever ſhall perhaps again, are mixt together; where there is much talk, and little or no diſcourſe: But theſe Love-feaſts me-thinks do call to my mind the dayes of Innocence, and make me wiſh for nothing when I enjoy them, but only ſuch another pleaſure. Here we know that we pledge an hearty Love, when a man preſents his kindneſs to us. Our mind is entertained with a greater variety, than the body enjoyes. The very taſte of our meat is exalted by the inward delight which we feel in our hearts. And whatſoever ſatisfaction we then receive, we impart as much to thoſe that give it. The weak and languiſhing appetite is excited by the ſight of friends, and the pleaſure of their diſcourſe: and the diſcourſe flows more freely by the moderate ſatisfaction of our appetite. Our dull ſpirits are raiſed by communication with our friends: and that Communication grows more lively by the exaltation of our ſpirits. Or if you pleaſe ſo to conſider it; Friends never talk with greater wit, and more freedom, than when they take an innocent repaſt together; and their meat never doth their bodies more good, than when this ſweet converſation is the ſauce for it.
Indeed, ſaid the Pilgrim, I had forgot to reflect upon that part of thoſe good mens ſatisfaction: which I take to be ſo great and yet ſo harmleſs withall, that I ſhall ever be a friend of ſuch pleaſures, and permit my ſelf to be merry in ſuch worthy company. They have convinced me that I ought not to affect a ſad brow and an heavy countenance. They have reconciled me to ſmiles and mirth. And provided they will keep within ſuch bounds, I will never quarrel with my paſſions any more. But there is none that I have a greater kindneſs for, than that of Love: the pleaſures of which, as it ſelf acquaints me withall, ſo the uſefulneſs of it thoſe excellent men have alſo taught me.
And, not to part ſo ſoon from ſo good a meeting, I muſt let you know that they underſtood afterward, a great part of the diſcourſe at that Table was about friendſhip, and the happineſs of him that had found a faithful friend. Which when it was repeated to him by one that was there, it was a great means of confirming this affection in our Pilgrim, and making him rejoyce in his advantageous choice. My memory is not ſo good as to carry away all that I heard was ſaid on this argument, but it begun with a commendation of that ſaying of the Son of Sirach, A faithful friend is a ſtrong defence: and he that hath found ſuch an one, Ecclus. 6 14, 15, 16hath found a Treaſure. Nothing doth countervail a faithful friend, and his excellency is unvaluable. A faithful friend is the Medicine of Life, and they that fear the Lordſhall find him. He ſpeaks like an Oracle, ſaid one of the company, for a friend me-thinks is the only univerſal Medicine againſt all the evils of this preſent life. And with your permiſſion I will make a Comment upon this Aphoriſm; or rather I will recite you the words of a good Author, who, though I believe he never ſaw him, hath gloſſed me-thinks moſt excellently on the Text of that wiſe Hebrew. To which when they had all moſt willingly accorded, he thus proceeded.
There is no Remedy in the World, ſaith he, Dion. Pruſ. 1.equal to that of a friend; for other Medicines are profitable to the ſick, and ſuperfluous to thoſe who are in health; but He is neceſſary to both. He ſupplyes the wants of Poverty. He adds a brightneſs to our glory; and he obſcures and hides our Ignominy. This one things leſſens the difficulty of thoſe that are troubleſome to us; and increaſes the happineſs which all our injoyments bring us. It makes evil things little, and good things great. By this ſweet ſociety our griefs are divided, and all our joyes are doubled. What calamity is not intolerable without a friend? and what felicity is not ungrateful if we have none to ſhare with us in it? We ſuffer not ſo much when we have ſome to condole and ſuffer with us: And we rejoyce the more when our felicity gives a pleaſure not only to our ſelves, but to others alſo. If Solitude and want of company be ſo horrid, ſo dreadful a thing; it is not to be underſtood of the want of men, but of the want of friends. For it is a good Solitude, not to dwell with thoſe that do not love us: and a man would chuſe ſuch an Hermitage where he might not be troubled with them who bear no benevolous affection to him. But for my part I cannot think it to be an happineſs which hath no friend to participate in its pleaſures. A man may more eaſily bear the hardeſt Calamity with his Friend, than the greateſt felicity alone. So that I judge him the moſt miſerable who in his calamity hath many to inſult over him; and in his felicity none to taſte of his joyes, and rejoyce with him. Who is there more ſpeedy in his ſuccours than a Friend? Whoſe praiſe is ſweeter to us than his? And by whom is Truth ſpoken with leſs grief than by ſuch a mouth? What Caſtle, what Bulwark, what Arms and Weapons, are more potent to ſecure us, than the cuſtody of thoſe who are well-affected to us? For in truth, ſo many Friends as a man hath gained, with ſo many eyes doth he ſee, and with ſo many ears doth he hear, and with ſo many underſtandings doth he think of that which is profitable for him. It is all one as if God had given to a man in one body, a great many Souls; every one of which do tenderly conſult and care for his good. Nay, if our eyes, and our tongue, and our hands are much to be prized, not only for the delights of Life, but that we may live; Friends are not only as profitable, but more neceſſary than theſe. For your eyes can ſcarce ſee thoſe things which are under your feet; but by our Friends we may ſee thoſe things which are in the furthermoſt parts of the earth. By our eares we hear only the things that are very near us; but by our Friends we hear them which are moſt remote. The tongue ſignifies only to thoſe who are preſent, and with the hands, the ſtrongeſt man can do more than two or three are able: but by Friends we may talk with all, and be able to effect innumerable things; for they will be ſure to ſpeak and do for us all that which is conducible to our good. But that which is moſt incredible is, that when a man hath friends, he may do many things at the ſame time, and conſult about divers affairs at once; and ſee and hear; nay more then that, he may be in many places at the ſame moment. His pleaſures are multiplied, as he multiplies his friends; for all that delights them, touches him with a ſenſe of joy as much as what concerns himſelf. If he give any thing to them, it rejoyces him as much as if he had gained a great deal of Wealth. If he receive any thing, it rejoyces him too, becauſe his friends are pleaſed. Though he be very fond of his kindred, yet he thinks friendſhip a greater good, then Conſanguinity; for without any kindred between men this is a ſtrict and profitable relation; but without this there is no comfort at all in the greateſt nearneſs of blood.
And therefore we may well conclude with our Wiſe man, that this is the greateſt treaſure, the ſtrongeſt defence, an invaluable Jewel, the very Balſome, and comfort and only preſerver of our life. A man is ſcarce himſelf till he have found a friend, or at leaſt he is but half a man. For as another wiſe man ſaith, Nuptial love produces men, but it is friendly love which gives them perfection. It may well be called the ſalt and ſeaſoning of our Pilgrimage. Without this, life it ſelf would be unſavoury, and all the pleaſures of it inſipid. It is the moſt agreeable pleaſure that a perſon of Vertue can enjoy. It is an holy, chaſte and innocent pleaſure: a Voluptuouſneſs which riſeth higher then ſenſe, and ſeeks the ſuperiour part. It acts on the mind without cauſing it to ſuffer a change. It moves it with ſo much ſweetneſs, that it ſtirs not out of its ſeat. Or it raviſhes it from it ſelf, only to remove it to a better place.
When he had done, they all agreed he did illuſtrate his Author as much as he had done the Son of Sirach. For ſaid they, we have read now this Writer by the benefit of your eyes; and you have ſo happily tranſported us out of our ſelves, that we find indeed we are better then where we were before. But yet, added another, that Wiſe man you ſpoke of, gives us this advice in the ſame place, If thou wouldſt get a friend, prove him firſt, and be not haſty to credit him. For ſome man is a friend for his own occaſion, and will not abide in the day of trouble. Some friends will be thy companions at thy table, but in the time of affliction they will not continue. In thy proſperity they will be as thy ſelf, and will be bold over thy ſervants. But if thou be brought low, they will be againſt thee, or hide themſelves from thee. Separate thy ſelf from thine enemies, and take heed of thy friends. How therefore ſhall we know the faithful friend whom he ſo much praiſes; or by what Marks ſhall we diſtinguiſh him from theſe pretenders? I would be loath to ſtay till the day of trouble before I know theſe counterfeit Lovers, and would be glad to impart my joyes to one that deſerves them. It is a very neceſſary Queſtion ſaid a Third, and therefore with your conſent I will undertake his Character, or at leaſt his deſcription. You ſhall not only have our leave, ſaid a fourth in the name of the reſt, but our thanks; which we give you beforehand for ſo good an offer. The world is full of falſe hearted friends. Towns and Kingdoms are made up of theſe honeſt kind of Cheats, as one whom you know is wont to call them. Into whatſoever place you come, you will find very little of that which you have brought hither: I mean affection without intereſt; fidelity without ſtain; with all the goodneſs and freedome of the Age of Innocence. There are many, ſaith he, that had rather loſe an hundred Friends, then ſo many Crowns. They value them no more, then they do men in Turky that are to be ſold. And I know ſome that would eaſily forgoe their moſt dear and faithful Intimates at the rate of ten or twenty pound a piece. Men they are (if we honour them not too much, with that name) who as the Wiſe Man you ſpoke of ſuggeſts to us, come but to drink, and return back again when the Bottles are empty. And therefore it will oblige us very much if you will be at the pains to let us know the qualities of a man, that is fit to be admitted into our Society.
A Friend then, replyed he, that is worthy of our boſome love, is a perſon that is equally good and intelligent: That can neither deceive, nor eaſily be deceived: that can ſeldome do ill out of weakneſs, and never out of deſign. He is one that will ſerve you without Vanity, but with all imaginable zeal: without any intereſt, but with the exacteſt care and diligence. That will engage himſelf moſt paſſionately in your defence when you are abſent, or unfortunate, or dead. That will follow you with his love to the other World; and ſerve thoſe when you are dead, whom you would have ſerved if you had been alive. He is one that never conceals his own ſecret from you, nor reveals yours to others. That will freely reprove you, and never back-bite other men. That can ſee your faults, and yet eaſily pardon them. And that as readily acknowledges merit, as he eſpies and pardons faults. That cannot tell how to do any thing without your knowledge, unleſs it be a good turn. That would have you ſee all he doth, except the friendly offices which he is every where rendring to you. That loves to entertain you with pleaſant diſcourſe, but howſoever with wholeſome and profitable. That will follow you to all dangers, though to no ſins. That can vary perhaps with your humour, but not with your fortune. That can make you a feaſt where there is no good chear beſides himſelf. That can ſerve as ſauce to excite your appetite, and ſave you the charge of Wine to exhilarate your ſpirits. That will divert you, without the prejudice or offence of any body elſe. That will make you more ſenſible of his tenderneſs by ſmall things, then others can do by greater ſervices.
He is one that thinks all the praiſes of others importune if you complain. To whom even his own merit ſeems odious, if it receive not your approbation. One that loves no pleaſure ſo much as complacence to you. To whom all places are alike, ſo you be not abſent. He can deny himſelf any thing and his friend nothing. He can bear himſelf company in Solitude, but is never weary of the company of thoſe he loves. He hath a ſenſe of honour, equal to his ſenſe of love. He hath no vulgar thoughts, but yet ſtoops to the moſt vulgar actions for the ſervice of his friend. He hath a great and generous mind, but omits not the trifles which will pleaſe him. He will neglect his own buſineſs to do his. He will receive a kindneſs as well as do it: and is not more willing to oblige than to be obliged. He is thankful and acknowledging for the ſmalleſt offices of love; and studies to repay it with the greateſt. He is poſſeſſed of all the Vertues, but makes a ſhow of none. He loves decency without affectation, generoſity without pride, courteſie without ceremony, and strictneſs without ſeverity. His morality is void of all rudeneſs; his ſeriouſneſs gives no diſguſt; his ſilence is without ſullenneſs; and his humility without baſeneſs and meanneſs of ſpirit. He hath a World of good qualities, and modeſty is Superior to them all. For he is ſhamefac'd without ignorance, and bluſhes becauſe you ſee he knows ſo much. He delights not to praiſe that in others wherein he excells himſelf. Nor is he ſparing there of his commendations, where his own defects will leave him no title to the application. He can hide any thing better then his love. He can do any thing better then deny your requeſts. He can endure any thing with more eaſe then to be ſeparated from your Society. When you are with him, you are ſtill alone. When you adviſe with him it is with your ſelf. He hath all things in common with you, but chiefly adverſity. He and his friend have but one will; though they may have different underſtandings. And indeed this one quality is it which I like in a friend above all the reſt, viz. A ſweet and innocent compliance, which is the cement of love and the ſecret charm of Society. This rare diſpoſition makes him to pleaſe us without flattery: and to tye himſelf to us without the loſs of liberty. If accords to our deſires without oppoſing reaſon: gives way to our weakneſs without increaſing and cheriſhing of it: accommodates it ſelf to our humour under the generous profeſſion of freedom; ſerves us in all things it can, without being captivated to any. There is nothing baſer indeed then compliance when it is ſeparated from other Vertues. Nothing more offenſive to thoſe on whom it is beſtowed if they have any noble reſentments in them; then when it is ſo ſervile as to ſubject the underſtanding and enthrall the reaſon to their deſires. But being to attend upon thoſe other good qualities which I have required in my friend, and ſerving alwayes with a liberty of mind; as there is nothing leſs offends any body elſe, ſo nothing more ſweetens a mans own diſpoſition, or more delights and gratifies that of his friends. It bends it ſelf to profit others and not only to pleaſe. It ſtudies to advantage them with the greateſt civility. It ſubdues their paſſions with the greateſt quietneſs. It reduces them to themſelves without violence. It ſtoops unto them that it may lift them up. It condeſcends that they may be recovered. It faſhions it ſelf to what they are, that they may be what they ought. It yields to their anger that it may diſarm them of it. It grants their deſires that it may take them away. It makes a man agree to others not that they may comply with him again, but comply with reaſon.
In ſhort therefore, he muſt be a vertuous perſon, we all grant, whom we chuſe for our friend. For he is not capable to be a friend to us, who is not a friend to himſelf. He can never accord well with another, who feels an inteſtine war continually in his own breaſt. But yet all vertuous perſons do not ſo reſemble each the other, as to joyn together in that ſtrict Ʋnion which bears the name of Friendſhip: And therefore he is fit to be received into this relation who beſides the qualities common to all good men, doth Symbolize with us in his humors and inclinations. When you meet with ſuch a man as anſwers this deſcription, make much of him and place a great confidence in him. To diſtruſt him is the higheſt ſin you can commit againſt him. To be ſuſpicious of the truth of what he ſaith is the moſt notorious breach of the bond of your friendſhip. And as ſoon as ever you begin to doubt, it is certain you begin leſs to love.
To this effect was the diſcourſe of him who took upon him to give the deſcription of a worthy friend: which was highly applauded by the whole Table and ſerved for an excellent cloſe of their feaſt. And truly the repetition of it made a new feaſt for our Pilgrim who began upon this occaſion to reflect on his own happineſs who had met with a friend that anſwered in all points this great Character to the very life. O Sir, ſaid he to the Father, what a loſs am I at for words to expreſs my felicity who have found the beſt of men and the beſt of friends! How gladly would they have admitted you into that loving Society from which we lately parted! They would have raviſhed you from me and ſtaid you there for ever if they had known your worth. They would have thought it too much that I ſhould encloſe ſo great a good, which is capable to ſerve a little World. For beſides the reſt of thoſe vertuous qualities which they remembred, you are the moſt compaſſionate of all men living. You cannot be merry I ſee, if I be ſad. The leaſt grief which I ſuffer penetrates to the bottom of your heart. And if I miſtake not I touch upon a truth of the greateſt remark to diſtinguiſh a ſleight from a ſubſtantial friend. For I have heard wiſer men then my ſelf note, that the World hath no great number of thoſe people, who are deeply wounded with the ſenſe of the miſery that befalls their friends; or whoſe reſentments of ſorrow are of any long durance, though they be never ſo paſſionately moved with the firſt ſight or report of them. Compaſſionate grief they obſerve, is wont ſoon to ſlide away; and make room for the entrance of any pleaſure. Moſt men can divert themſelves delightfully if occaſion ſerve; though their friends ſufferings be never ſo ſad. They have not made their concernments ſo much their own, as that they ſhould feel pain as long as their friends. But yet I find you to be one of that little number who are infinitely tender, and throughly touched with all the infirmities of thoſe that they love. How often have you charged your ſelf with my cares and diſquiets? How many thorns have you drawn out of my mind? How many expedients have you deviſed to ſuccour and ſupport me under all my burdens? You have often tempered the heat of my paſſions. You have ſweetned the ſharpneſs of my ſpirit. You have healed my wounds when you could not prevent the blow. You have brought me cordials, when I was capable of no conſolations but thoſe which your company adminiſtred to me. You have devided with me the labours which I am to undergo. And taken a part of that duty upon you which I am to perform. And have made your ſelf ſo inſeparable to me, as if it was but one life which you and I lived. I ought to value you as much as my ſelf; and for as much as my perſon is dearer to me then all my worldly goods; I ought to eſteem the benefits you have done my mind, more then if you had given me a maſs of treaſure, and poſſeſſed me of the faireſt eſtate which the eye of the World hath ever ſeen.