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Myself, who but grovel on the ground, hate that kind of inhuman wisdom which would make us disdainful and enemies of the body’s reformation. I deem it an equal injustice either to take natural sensualities against the heart or to take them too near the heart. [59] Xerxes was a ninny-hammer [60] who, enwrapped and given to all human voluptuousness, proposed rewards for those that should devise such as he had never heard of. And he is not much behind him in sottishness that goes about to abridge those which nature hath devised for him. One should neither follow nor avoid them but receive them. I receive them somewhat more amply and graciously and rather am contented to follow natural inclination. We need not exaggerate their inanity; it will sufficiently be felt and doth sufficiently produce itself. God-a-mercy our weak, crazed, and joy-diminishing spirit, [61] which makes us distaste both them and himself. He [62] treateth both himself and whatsoever he receiveth, sometimes forward and other times backward, according as himself is either insatiate, vagabond, newfangled, or variable.
Sincerum est nisi vas, quodcunque infundis accescit.
In no sweet vessel all you pour,
In such a vessel soon will sour. [63]
Myself, who brag so curiously to embrace and particularly to allow the commodities of life, whensoever I look precisely into it, I find nothing therein but wind. But what? We are nothing but wind. And the very wind also, more wisely than we, loveth to bluster and to be in agitation, and is pleased with his own offices, without desiring stability or solidity, qualities that be not his own.
The mere pleasures of imagination, as well as displeasure (say some), are the greatest, as the balance of Critolaus did express. [64] It is no wonder: she [65] composeth them at her pleasure and cuts them out of the whole cloth. I see daily some notable precedents of it and peradventure to be desired. But I, that am of a commixed condition, homely and plain, cannot so thoroughly bite on that only and so simple object, but shall grossly and carelessly give myself over to the present delights of the general and human law, intellectually sensible and sensibly intellectual. The Cyrenaic philosophers [66] are of the opinion that as griefs, so corporal pleasures, are more powerful and, as double, so more just.
There are some (as Aristotle sayeth) who with a savage kind of stupidity will seem distasteful or squeamish of them. [67] Some others I know that do it out of ambition. Why renounce they not also breathing? Why live they not of their own and refuse light because it cometh of gratuity and costs them neither invention nor vigor? That Mars or Pallas or Mercury should nourish them to see instead of Ceres, Venus, or Bacchus. [68] Will they not seek for the quadrature [69] of the circle, even upon their wives? [70] I hate that we should be commanded to have our minds in the clouds whilst our bodies are sitting at the table. Yet would I not have the mind to be fastened thereunto, nor wallow upon it, nor lie along thereon; but apply itself and sit at it. Aristippus defended but the body, as if we had no soul; Zeno embraced but the soul, as if we had no body. Both viciously. Pythagoras (say they) hath followed a philosophy, all in contemplation; Socrates altogether in manners and in action; Plato hath found a mediocrity [71] between both. But they say so by way of discourse, for the true temperature is found in Socrates, and Plato is more Socratical than Pythagorical, and it becomes him best.
When I dance, I dance; and when I sleep, I sleep. And when I am solitary walking in a fair orchard, if my thoughts have a while entertained themselves with strange occurrences, I do another while bring them to walk with me in the orchard and to be partakers of the pleasure of that solitariness and of myself. Nature hath like a kind mother observed this, that such actions as she for our necessities hath enjoined unto us should also be voluptuous [72] unto us; and doth not only by reason but also by appetite invite us unto them. It were injustice to corrupt her rules.
When I behold Cæsar and Alexander in the thickest of their wondrous-great labours, so absolutely to enjoy human and corporal pleasures, I say not that they release thereby their mind but rather strengthen the same, submitting by vigor of courage their violent occupation and laborious thoughts to the customary use of ordinary life. Wise had they been had they believed that that was their ordinary vocation, and this their extraordinary. [73]
What egregious fools are we? “He hath passed his life in idleness,” say we; “Alas I have done nothing this day.” What, have you not lived? It is not only the fundamental but the noblest of your occupations. “Had I been placed or thought fit for the managing of great affairs, I would have showed what I could have performed.” Have you known how to meditate and manage your life? You have accomplished the greatest work of all. For a man to show and exploit himself, nature hath no need of fortune; she equally shows herself upon all grounds, in all suits, before and behind, as it were without curtains, welt or guard. [74] Have you known how to compose your manners? You have done more than he who hath composed books. Have you known how to take rest? You have done more than he who hath taken empires and cities. The glorious masterpiece of man is to live to the purpose. All other things, as to reign, to govern, to hoard up treasure, to thrive, and to build are for the most part but appendixes [75] and supporters thereunto.
It is to me a great pleasure to see a general of an army at the foot of a breach which ere long intendeth to charge or enter, all whole, undistracted, and carelessly to prepare himself, whilst he sits at dinner with his friends about him, to talk of any matter. And I am delighted to see Brutus, having both heaven and earth conspired against him and the liberty of Rome, by stealth to take some hours of the night from his other cares and walking of the round in all security to read, to note, and to abbreviate Polybius. It is for base and petty minds, dulled and overwhelmed with the weight of affairs, to be ignorant how to leave them and not to know how to free themselves from them, nor how to leave and take them again:
O fortes peioraque passi,
Mecum sæpe viri, nunc vino pellite curas,
Cras ingens iterabimus æquor.
Valiant compeers, who oft have worse endured
With me, let now with wine your cares be cured:
Tomorrow we again
Will launch into the main. [76]
Whether it be in jest or earnest that the Sorbonical or theological wines and their feasts or gaudy [77] days are now come to be proverbially jested at, I think there is some reason that by how much more profitably and seriously they have bestowed the morning in the exercise of their schools, so much more commodiously and pleasantly should they dine at noon. [78] A clear conscience to have well employed and industriously spent the other hours is a perfect seasoning and savory condiment of tables. So have wise men lived. And that inimitable contention unto virtue which so amazeth us in both Catos, their so strictly-severe humour, even unto importunity, hath thus mildly submitted itself and taken pleasure in the laws of human condition, and in Venus and Bacchus, according to their sect’s precepts, which require a perfectly wise man to be fully-expert and skilful in the true use of sensualities as in all other duties or devoires [79] belonging to life. Cui cor sapiat, ei et sapiat palatus. Let his palate be savory, whose heart is savory. [80]
Easy-yielding and facility doth in my conceit greatly honour and is best befitting a magnanimous and noble mind. Epaminondas thought it no scorn to thrust himself amongst the boys of his city and dance with them, yea and to sing and play, and with attention busy himself were it in things that might derogate from the honor and reputation of his glorious victories and from the perfect reformation of manners that was in him. And amongst so infinite admirable actions of Scipio the grandfather, a man worthy to be esteemed of heavenly race, nothing addeth so much grace unto him as to see him carelessly to dally and childishly to trifle in gathering and choosing of cockle-shells and play at cob-castle [81] along the seashore with his friend Lælius. And if it were foul weather, amusing and solacing himself to represent in writing and comedies the most popular and base actions of men. And having his head continually busied with that wonderful enterprise agains
t Hannibal and Africa, yet he still visited the schools in Sicily, and frequented the lectures of philosophy, arming his enemies’ teeth at Rome with envy and spite. Nor any thing more remarkable in Socrates than, when being old and crazed, he would spare so much time as to be instructed in the art of dancing and playing upon instruments, and thought the time well bestowed.
Who notwithstanding hath been seen to continue a whole day and night in an ecstasy or trance, yea ever standing on his feet, in presence of all the Greek army, as it were surprised and ravished by some deep and mind-distracting thought. He hath been noted to be the first amongst so infinite valiant men in the army, headlong to rush out to help and bring off Alcibiades, engaged and enthronged by his enemies; to cover him with his body; and, by main force of arms and courage, bring him off from the rout. And in the Delian battle to save and disingage Xenophon, who was beaten from his horse. And in the midst of all the Athenian people wounded, as it were, with so unworthy a spectacle, headlong present himself the first man to recover Theramenes, from out the hands of the officers and satellites, of the Thirty Tyrants of Athens, who were leading him to his death; and never desisted from his bold attempt until he met with Theramenes himself, though he were followed and assisted with two more. He hath been seen (provoked thereunto by a matchless beauty, wherewith he was richly endowed by nature) at any time of need to maintain a severe continency. [82] He hath continually been noted to march to the wars on foot; to break the ice with his bare feet; to wear one same garment in summer and winter; to exceed all his companions in patience of any labour or travel; to eat no more or otherwise at any banquet than at his ordinary.
He hath been seen seven and twenty years together with one same undismayed countenance, patiently to bear and endure hunger, poverty, the indocility and stubbornness of his children, the forwardness and scratchings of his wife; and in the end malicious detraction, tyranny, imprisonment, shackles, and poison. But was that man invited to drink to him by duty of civility? He was also the man of the army, to whom the advantage thereof remained. And yet he refused not, nor disdained to play for nuts with children, nor to run with them upon a hobby-horse, wherein he had a very good grace. For all actions (sayeth philosophy) do equally beseem well and honour a wise man. We have good ground and reason, and should never be weary to present the image of this incomparable man unto all patterns and form of perfections. There are very few examples of life absolutely full and pure, and our instruction is greatly wronged in that it hath certain weak, defective, and unperfect forms proposed unto it, scarcely good for any good use, which divert and draw us back and may rather be termed corrupters than correctors.
Man is easily deceived. One may more easily go by the sides, where extremity serveth as a bound, as a stay and as a guide, than by the mid-way, which is open and wide, and more according unto art than according unto nature; but therewithal less nobly and with less commendation. The greatness of the mind is not so much to draw up and hale forward as to know how to range, direct, and circumscribe itself. It holdeth for great whatever is sufficient and showeth her height in loving mean things better than eminent. There is nothing so goodly, so fair, and so lawful as to play the man well and duly, nor science so hard and difficult as to know how to live this life well. And of all the infirmities we have the most savage is to despise our being.
Whoso will sequester or distract his mind, let him hardily do it, if he can, at what time his body is not well at ease, thereby to discharge it from that contagion; and elsewhere contrary, that she may assist and favour him [83] and not refuse to be partaker of his natural pleasures and continually [84] be pleased with them, adding thereunto, if she be the wiser, moderation, lest through indiscretion they might be confounded with displeasure. Intemperance is the plague of sensuality; and temperance is not her scourge but rather her seasoning. Eudoxus, [85] who thereon established his chief felicity, [86] and his companions, that raised the same to so high a pitch, by means of temperance, which in them was very singular and exemplar, savoured the same in her most gracious sweetness.
I enjoin my mind with a look equally regular to behold both sorrow and voluptuousness: [87] Eodem enim vitio est effusio animi in lætitia, quo in dolore contractio. As faulty is the enlarging of the mind in mirth as the contracting it in grief; [88] and equally constant, but the one merrily and the other severely, and according to that she may bring unto it, to be as careful to extinguish the one as diligent to quench the other. To have a perfect insight into a good draws with it an absolute insight into evil. And sorrow hath in her tender beginning something that is unavoidable, and voluptuousness in her excessive end something that is evitable. [89] Plato coupleth them together and would have it to be the equal office of fortitude to combat against sorrows and fight against the immoderate and charming blandishments of sensuality. They are two fountains: at which whoso draweth whence, when, and as much as he needeth—be it a city, be it a man, be it a beast—he is very happy. The first must be taken for physic [90] and necessity, and more sparingly; the second for thirst, but not unto drunkenness. Pain, voluptuousness, love, and hate are the first passions a child feeleth; if reason approach, and they apply themselves unto it, that is virtue.
I have a dictionary [91] severally [92] and wholly to myself. I “pass the time” when it is foul and incommodious; when it is fair and good, I will not pass it; I run it over again and take hold of it. A man should run the bad and settle himself in the good. This vulgar phrase of “pass time” and “to pass the time” represents the custom of those wise men who think to have no better account of their life than to pass it over and escape it; to pass it over and bawk [93] it, and so much as in them lieth to ignore and avoid it, as a thing of an irksome, tedious, and to-be-disdained quality. But I know it to be otherwise and find it to be both priseable [94] and commodious, yea in her last declination, where I hold it. And Nature hath put the same into our hands, furnished with such and so favourable circumstances that, if it press and molest us, or if unprofitably it escape us, we must blame ourselves. Stulti vita ingrata est, trepida est, tota in futurum fertur. A fool’s life is all pleasant, all fearful, all fond of the future. [95] I therefore prepare and compose myself to forgo and lose it without grudging, but a thing that is losable and transitory by its own condition; not as troublesome and importunate. Nor beseems it a man not to be grieved when he dieth, except they be such as please themselves to live still. There is a kind of husbandry in knowing how to enjoy it. I enjoy it double to others, for the measure in jouissance [96] dependeth more or less on the application we lend it. Especially at this instant, that I perceive mine to be short in time, I will extend it in weight; I will stay the readiness of her flight by the promptitude of my hold-fast by it, [97] and by the vigor of custom [98] recompense the haste of her fleeting. According as the possession of life is more short, I must endeavour to make it more profound and full.
Other men feel the sweetness of a contentment and prosperity; I feel it as well as they, but it is not in passing and gliding. Yet should it be studied, tasted, and ruminated, thereby to yield Him condign [99] thanks, that it pleased to grant the same unto us. They enjoy other pleasures as that of sleep, without knowing them. To the end that sleep should not dully and unfeelingly escape me and that I might better taste and be acquainted with it, I have heretofore found it good to be troubled and interrupted in the same. I have a kind of contentment to consult with myself, which consultation I do not superficially run over but considerately sound the same and apply my reason to entertain and receive it, which is now become forward, peevish, and distasted. Do I find myself in some quiet mood? Is there any sensuality that tickles me? I do not suffer the same to busy itself or dally about my senses but associate my mind unto it. Not to engage or plunge itself therein but therein to take delight; not to lose but therein to find itself. And for her part, [100] I employ her to view herself in that prosperous estate, to ponder and esteem the good fortune she hath and to amplify the same. She measureth how much she is beholding unto
God for that she is at rest with her conscience and free from other intestine [101] passions, and hath her body in her natural disposition, orderly and competently enjoying certain flattering and effeminate functions with which it pleaseth him of his grace to recompense the griefs, wherewith his justice at his pleasure smiteth us. Oh how availful [102] is it unto her to be so seated that, wherever she casteth her eyes, the heavens are calm round about her; and no desire, no fear, or doubt troubleth the air before her; here is no difficulty, either past or present or to come, over which her imagination passeth not without offence.
This consideration takes a great lustre from the comparison of different conditions. Thus do I in a thousand shapes propose unto myself those whom either fortune or their own error doth transport and torment. And these nearer, who so slackly and incuriously receive their good fortune. They are men which indeed “pass their time”; they overpass the present and that which they possess, thereby to serve their hopes with shadows and vain images which fancy sets before them—
Morte oblita quales fama est volitare figuras
Aut quæ sopitos deludunt somnia sensus.
Such walking shapes we say, when men are dead,