The Times Anatomized, Part 20 – Part 30
XX. A Sectary.
HEe is one that having left the roade of the Churches practice, wanders in the Labyrinth of Sects and Schiſmes, and being of a Quick-ſilver brain, can never be fixed in any till hee become an abſolute Atheiſt, for they that once are of all Religions, will quickly be of none at all. He cannot endure any government as tying him in an incloſure: for he will not be fed by the wholſome food of his proper Miniſter, but will carve for himſelfe, not diſcerning weeds from herbs, poyſon from wholſome meat. For learning hee utterly deteſts it, and no wonder if they that ſeek darke corners, hate the light of the Sun that would diſcover them, yet the Sun is never the worſe nor leſſe uſefull, becauſe blear eyes cannot endure its light. He is ſo ſtrict to obſerve the very words of the Scripture (though he can read never a word of it) that becauſe the Apoſtles were ſome of them fiſher-men, and Paul preached in an upper roome, He thinks him no Preacher that is not a mechanick, nor that no Church which is not in a chamber. He rails continually againſt pluralities, and affects nothing ſo much as to be ſingular. If he be the ring-leader of a Sect, his only care is to worke upon the weaker ſex, to deceive ſimple women, whom, if they follow him, hee ſuppoſes their husbands wil come after them. And thus the Serpent, the father of Heretikes firſt tempted Eve, and then leaving her to tempt her husband. And theſe all weare Chriſts colours, but fight under the Devils banner, which daily multiply by our diviſions, theſe abſtractions from the Church increaſe by the diſtractions in the Church, and it will be as eaſie to knit a rope of ſand, as to unite them againe thus diſſipated.
XXI. Of War.
WAr is a Tragoedy, that moſt commonly deſtroyes the Scene whereon 'tis acted. An unwelcome gueſt that devoures his Hoſt. The curſed off-ſpring of two bleſſed parents, Peace and Plenty, both which it deſtroyes and devoures, as Pharoes leane kine did the fat ones. Peace chains up al furies & miſchiefs, which the ſword of Warre lets looſe. War is a Wolfe whoſe peſtilēt breath ſtops the mouth of the Laws, whoſe voyce cannot be heard for the cryes of oppreſſed people, the effect, and the roaring of Cannons, and claſhing of Armes, the ſadder cauſes. Wars griping hand ſqueezeth and ſcattereth what good husbandry had raked together in time of peace. Time of War is the true Iron Age, for it converts all into iron, which iron will be maſter of all mens gold. Warre never comes but attended with a train of devouring followers: Deſtruction and that uſually goe hand in hand. this Generall Warre hath ſo univerſall a command, that no particular man can have any command of his now. But of all Wars, none ſo uncivill as civill War, other wars kill foes, but this friends, in this, one member riſes up againſt another. If a Kingdom divided from others cannot ſtand, a Kingdom divided againſt it ſelf muſt needs fall. But the uglineſſe of War will appeare better, or rather worſe, by viewing the beauty of Peace.
XXII. Of Peace.
PEace is the ligament or ſeament, that knits and unites the ſeverall members of one Kingdom into one body. Shee is the mother of plenty and proſperity. The nurſe and cheriſher of Arts and Sciences, and what's worth all, the beſt means for propagating the Goſpel, for the ſpirituall fiſhers never caught the more for fiſhing in troubled waters, for ſuch fiſh (as mariners ſay of the litterall fiſh) if they ſee bloud on the net, they will not be caught by any bayes. No this Goſpel is the Goſpel of Peace, and of the God of Peace, and his children the lovers of Peace. Peace makes thoſe calme dayes wherein the Halcyon of honour ſeats her neſt. It is the onelyonly cordiall to revive a fainting Kingdom, languiſhing of the deadly wounds of the keen ſword of inraged warre. This one word Peace (as one well obſerves) is but a monoſylable, yet is it big with a world of happineſſe. Yet many Athenians there be who never went to conclude a peace but in mourning garments. But I feare to ſpeake farther of it, leſt I meet with the Florentine Law, which made it death for any one to name Peace. I ſuppoſe the miſeries of this cruell Warre may bee as ſo many mouthes to cry and call for Peace, and therefore I will hold my peace.
XXIII. A Drunkard.
IS a meere beaſt in the ſhape of a man. A living pipe or conduite, through which the liquour paſſeth. A great aſſertor of Copernicus his opinion, for he holds that all things go ronnd. He might make a reſolute Souldier, but that he ſtaggers ſo often. Drukenneſſe is uſed in High Germany for the Index, or Touch-ſtone of a mans nature, for the parents will ſee men drunk before they marry their daughters unto them, becauſe they will know what kinde of drunkenneſſe they are ſubject to; and according to the good or ill (if a Drunkard can have good) qualities they judge him convenient or not for their marriages: And indeed there is no paſſion that a Drunkard is ſubject to, but Wine will make him turn traytor to himſelfe and diſcover. It is not for nothing that the word in the Originall ſignifies Naked, drunkenneſſe breakes the veile of ſecrecie, and renders a man naked to his very enemies, when he is like Gryllus (in Plutarch) who was ſo transformed by one of Circes charmes, that he could not by all Uliſſes cloquence be induced to depoſe his hoggiſh nature, and reſume the perſon of a man. He is not then his own Maſter or his own man, whoſe ſenſes are fettered with Drunkenneſſe, and yet how he boaſts in making himſelfe a hogſhead, ſtriving to take off his liquour till he be taken of it, and become its captive, and inſtead of quenching his thirſt drownes his ſoule. And being thus bereaved of his ſenſes, he jumps not an inch from a mad-man. For as there are ſeverall ſorts of mad-men, ſo are there alſo of Drunkards, and every one in his ſeverall humour: ſome are mad, ſome merry, ſome raging Drunkards. How many brute beaſts will riſe up in judgement againſt the Drunkards, who make the ſufficing of Nature their Standard in eating and drinking, which they will not exceed no more then the Drunkard exceeds them in his drink? For there are but two things whereby a man is differenc'd from a beaſt, Ratio & Oratio, Reaſon and Speech, and the Drunkard wants them both. He wants reaſon like him that ſtuft a porrage pot with ſtraw to make it the eaſier pillow. He wants ſpeech alſo, for as the Ephramites were diſtinguiſhed from the reſt of the Iſraelites, by liſping, they could not pronounce the letter …. Thus Drunkards (ſayth one wittily) are diſtinguiſhed from the Kings ſober ſubjects by clipping the coyne of the tongue. But lamentable it is when hee dares to quote Scripture examples for proofe of his actions, looking only at the evill of ſin, but not at the evill of puniſhmeut that follows thoſe ſins; let him ſhew me the example of a Saint that ſinn'd, and had not alſo his affliction for it. As the Comoedian, who when one objected to him his bringing a deboiſt fellow upon the ſtage, thereby giving an evill example to youth: He anſwerd, 'tis true, I brought ſuch an one upon the Stage, but I hang'd him before he went off, and ſo I gave them a good example. ⸪
XXIV. A novice Preacher.
IS a young Lapwing, running from his neſt of the Univerſity, before maturity of time and knowledge have caſt the ſhel of ignorance, which therefore he ſtill carries on his pate. How-ever this kallow Bird weary of his Mothers tuition, (when indeed ſhe might better be weary of him) having hopt out of his neſt, muſt be chirping on every hedge, and will be ſtragling abroad, never minding the danger of ſuch attempts; but Who ſo bold as blinde Bayard, ſaith the Proverbe? Wee may ſay of him as of the Nitingale, Vox & praeterea Nil, His greateſt commendation is the ſtrength of his lungs, having been but a while like a cypher, in the place of a figure, me thinks, I heare the people ſaying, to thoſe Novices, as the wiſe to the fooliſh Virgins, ye have not enough for us and your ſelves too, go yee rather and buy for your ſelves: for wee beare ye witneſſe, that hitherto out of your owne neceſſities ye have adminiſtred unto us. And no wonder, that inſtead of ſhining Lights, they prove fooliſh fires to lead their flocks into a Maze of Errours, in which they wander, not having the clue of learning or judgement to guide them out. They are rather ſmoake to put out the eyes of the ſeeing, then like to lend eyes unto the blind. They are meere wels without water, aud clouds without rain. His Sermons are but the ecchoes of other men, in which his greateſt commendation is, that he reads them Clerk-like. For his prayers they conſiſt moſt an end of naught elſe, ſave a zealous taking the Lords name in vain, in tedious tautologies▪ which he is as devout in, as a Papiſt would be in dropping his beads. His Library conſiſts of a Directory, and an Ordinance for Tithes, and if his eſtate will reach to it, a Concordance.
XXV. A Scandalous Preacher.
HE is one who by his Doctrine ſheweth the way to heaven, but by his life, the road to hell. Like that ridiculous Actor iu Smyrna, who pronouncing ô coelum! pointed down to the ground, of whom Polemio in a chafe ſayd, This fellow hath ſpoken falſe Latine with his hand: ſo does he that preacheth well, and lives ill; he ſpeakes falſe Divinity with his converſation. His tongue ſpeakes the language of Canaan, but his life the language of Aſhdod. We may ſay of him as it was of Eraſmus, his Encheridion, that there was more devotion in the booke then the man; ſo that there is more Learning and Religion in the Sermon then in the Preacher, and what an incongruous thing is it, to ſee an holy Preacher and a wicked man in one and the ſame perſon? whoſe life is a Traytor to that Doctrine his tongue both profeſſeth and perſwades alleagance to, as if hee thought to goe to heaven ſome other way then what he teaches the people, ſoyling the glorious robe of Religion, by putting it upon a beaſtly converſation. He is a meere Comoedian in Religion, acting goodneſſe in voice and geſture onelyonly. His life and Doctrine is like the cloud that led the Iſraelites in the wildernes, light on one ſide, but dark on the other, for no man teaches better then he, and no man lives worſe, teaching others what he does not himſelfe, like way-poſts, directing travailers in their way, but themſelves not ſtirring.
XXVI. A grave Divine.
IS a faithfull watchman, going before his flock, holding forth the ſhining lampe of his Doctrine in the lanthorne of a good converſation. Hee is a good ſteward, that hath ſtudyed before hand to lay in ſufficient proviſion for that great charge he hath undertaken. He leapt not from the Grammar Schoole to the Pulpit, but was long in the Tyring-houſe of the Univerſity, before he appear'd on the publike Theater, where he courted not the miſtriſſe Divinity firſt, but made his way to her the eaſier, by firſt winning the Arts, her hand-maids. Neither was he haſty to launch forth of that Port, till hee was ſufficiently ballaſted with learning. Being lawfully called to the Miniſtry, he firſt throughly learned the weight thereof, that hee may the better fit his ſhoulders to beare it, and ſurely he that is moſt carefull to know, will be moſt carefull to performe his duty. His endeavour is to fit his matter to the capacity of his hearers, as deſiring rather their profit then his applauſe. In any controverſie he more delights to ſhew the ſtrength of truth, then his adverſaries weakneſſe: uſing ſoft words, (as one well) but hard Arguments. He is very circumſpect in ordering his own converſation, as knowing that ignorant people learn as much (if not more) by their eyes then their eares; ſo that his whole life is but one continued Lecture, wherein his pariſhioners may legibly read their duty. And indeed the actions of the Miniſter, are the Pole-ſtars the people ſteere their courſe by: therefore it is our Miniſters care that they may read (as it were) all his precepts and exhortations to them in the line of his own life.
XXVII. A ſelf-conceited Man.
IS one that looking through the ſpectacles of ſelf-love on his own worth, which makes every ſmall thing ſeeme great in his own conceit. Like the Ape, he hugs the brats of his own brain, and with the Crow, thinks his own bird whiteſt. He looks only upon the flowers of his good actions, but not on the weeds of his imperfections, which, though never ſo bad, are the beſt part of his actions. Hee looks ſo on his own beauty, till Narciſſus-like he is inamoured with himſelf, being drunken with ſelf-conceit he ſees all things double. Whatſoever he ſayes, he counts like Pithagoras his ipſe dixit, to his ſcholars, that muſt ſtand for an infalible rule. His opinions are alwayes ſingular, and had rather erre by himſelf then hold a common truth. You can tell him nothing that is good in him, but hee knew it too well before. Whatſoever opinion he is pleaſed to grace with approbation, muſt be the only truth, not becauſe it is (if it be) truth, but becauſe he holds it.
XXVIII. An inconſtant Man.
HE is a wandring Star, never fixed in any reſolution. Whatſoever he meant or ſaid, is preſently altered, for he meant it not long enough to take impreſſion, his ſtrongeſt reſolutions being rather tack'd then faſtned. He is always building and pulling down, ſtriving to out-vey time it ſelfe in mutability: in the beſt things continuance is quarrell ſufficient, and novelty the higheſt ſtyle of commendation in the meaneſt. His underſtanding writes upon his wit, as men write on water, no ſooner written, but forgotten. He is a ſtranger to himſelfe, and all his actions ſo different from another, that one would think it impoſſible they ſhould all come out of one the ſameſhop. A piece of clay, tempered with running water, which keeps his wit in a perpetuall motion. He often reſolves ſeldome Acts, being rul'd by paſſion, not reaſon. He is the beſt enemy that can be, but the worſt friend, for 'tis a wonder if his love or hatred, laſt ſo long as a wonder. All his purpoſes are built upon the floting Iſlands of his ſeverall humours: but Ile here caſt anchor, and leave him to the winde of his own will.
XXIX. Religion.
REligion in it ſelf is naturally written in the hearts of all men: which will rather be of a falſe then of no Religion. It is the bond betweene God and us, and therefore in our old Engliſh called Eanfaſtnes, as the only aſſurance, and faſt anchor-hold of our ſouls health: and therefore irreligious men cut or diſſolve this band, and then no wonder if cutting this cable, they make ſhipwrack of their ſouls. Though there be many falſe religions, as many falſe gods in the World, yet is there but one true Religion, as one true and only God, who is the ſole object of Religion: and all thoſe ſeverall ones, though ſo far diſtant frō one another, yet they all meet in this, that they all worſhip a Diety. Religion (like Sampſon's haire) is the ſtrength of a Kingdom: where that is loſt, the Kingdom is a true Icabod, the glory is departed: and no ſuch way to loſe the true Religion, as in a crowd of falſe ones. Hee that opens his hand (or his heart rather) to contein all will, retein none: true Religion is of too pure a nature to admit of any mixture, but alas! we may too truly ſay of religion in our times, as Eraſmus did of the Friers Cowle in his, that it there was like Charity, for it cover'd a multitude of ſins, as if there was no ſuch way for men to fight for their own ends, as under the banner of Religion. *…*
XXX. Death.
DEath is that univerſall winde to which all mortals, become wind-fals from the tree of life. Sickeneſſes & ſleep, are as pauſes and parentheſes, in the line of life, but Death the full point; the period; and Ne plus ultra, of the longeſt. The griſly Atropos that cuts in ſunder the ſtrongeſt cord of life, it is that unavoidable debt levied upon all mankind, by force of that Statute enacted by God in Paradiſe: and recorded by Saint Paul, That all muſt dye. As when one told Anaxagoras, the Athenians have condemn'd thee to dye, He anſwered, and Nature then. It is that black night, which over-takes, and over-ſpreads the brighteſt day of life. The grim Serjeant ſent from the Almighty with an Habeas Corpus, to arreſt every one for that unavoidable debt, due to Nature, ever ſince our firſt Parent broke and turn'd Bankerupt. The grave is his Priſon wherein he keeps them, till the Reſurrection, the time of their Gaol-delivery from it. But to the godly, it is a friendly-fo, which by robbing them of a mortall life, makes them capable of immortality; and by ſplitting the veſſell of their bodies, upon the rock of death, engulphs their ſouls into Eternity: ſetting her free from the priſon of the body, and endenizing her into Heaven. It is their Exodus out of the Egypt of the World, preparing them to enter into their promiſed Land of the heavenly Canaan: or new Hieruſalem. At this Port muſt weall arrive: whatſoever our Voyage be. This is the totall ſumme of all mankinde. It is the bitter cup our father Adam begun, and wee muſt all pledge it: the Inheritance which he purchaſed, as his wages of ſin, and is entayl'd to all his poſterity. A Deluge which broke in by Adams breach of Gods Commandement that ſooner or later will over-flow all mankind. By his rebelling againſt God, al are become ſubject to deaths command. what the Epigram ſayth wittily on the Gramarian is true of every man, that being able to decline all other Nownes in every Caſe, could decline Death in no Caſe. All muſt fall down at deaths feet, as well the Prince as the Peſant. He cannot be reſiſted, nor will he be flatterd. No Orator ſo eloquent, that could perſwade Death to ſpare him nor Monarch ſo mighty tha… could reſiſt him. Hezekiah, indeed was repriev'd, by God himſelfe, for fiften yeares, but he came to it at laſt. When this wind blowes, and when this rain deſcends, it irreſiſtably blowes down, and waſheth away the clay tenements of our bodies. He is an Archer that ſhooteth, ſomtimes beyond us hitting our ſupriours, ſomtimes ſhort of us, ſtriking our inferiors, ſomtimes at our right hand, depriving us of our freinds, ſomtimes at our left hand, taking away our foes: and then at laſt hits the marke it ſelfe, and we muſt tread the ſame path, that all have, who are gon before us, and all muſt that ſhall come after. (⸪)
Mors, omnium FINIS.
End of the text · Thomas Ford, The Times Anatomized (1647)