lity? a firmer peace, a freer Gospel, a happier government than the world can shew you?

Yet you must go. I give you my allowance; but limited, and full of cautions: like an inquisitive officer, you must let me ask, who, how, when, whither, why, how long; and accordingly determine.

To communicate with them in their false services, who will not spit at as impious? We speak of conversing with men; not with idolatries: civilly; not in religion: not in works of darkness; but business of commerce and common indifferencies. Fie on those Rimmonites, that plead an upright soul in a prostrate body: hypocrites, that pretend a Nathanael in the skin of a Nicodemus. God hates their secret halting, and will revenge it.

Let go their vices: speak of their be persons. Those may conversed with; not with familiarity, not with entireness: as men qualified; not as friends. Traffic is here allowed; not amity; not friendship, but peace. Paul will allow you to feast at their table, not to frequent it.

Yet, not this, to all. Christianity hath all statures in it, all strengths: children, and men; weaklings, giants. For a feeble ungrounded Christian, this very company is dangerous; safe, for the strong and instructed. Turn a child loose into an apothecary's shop, or an idiot: that gallipot, which looks fairest, shall have his first hand, though full of poisonous drugs; where the judicious would chuse the wholesomest, led not by sense, but skill. Settledness in the truth will cause us to hate and scorn ridiculous impiety: and that hate will settle us the more; where the unstayed may grow to less dislike, and endanger his own infection. He had need be a resolute Caleb, that should go to spy the land of Canaan.

Yet not such an one, upon every occasion. Mere pleasure or curiosity, I dare not allow in this adventure: the command of authority or necessity of traffic, I cannot reject: or, if, after sufficient prevention, desire to inform ourselves thoroughly in a foreign religion or state, especially for public use, carry us abroad, I censure not. In all matter of danger, a calling is a good warrant: and it cannot want peril, to go unsent.

Neither is there small weight in the quality of the place, and continuance of the time. It is one case, where the profession of our religion is free; another, where restrained, perhaps not without constraint to idolatry: where we have means for our souls, an allowed ministry, the case must needs differ from a place of necessary blindness, of peevish superstition. To pass through an infected place, is one thing; to dwell in it, another: each of these gives a new state to the cause, and looks for a diverse answer.

But, as in all these outward actions, so here, most force, I confess, lies in the intention; which is able to give, not toleration only to our travel, but praise. To converse with them without, but in a purpose of their conversion, and with endeavour to fetch them in, can be no other than a holy course: wherein that the Jesuits

7.

have been, by their own saying, more serviceable in their Indies and China; let them thank, after their number and leisure, their shelter of Spain: the opportunity of whose patronage hath preferred them to us; not their more forward desires.

In short, companying with Infidels may not be simply condemned. Who can hold so, that sees Lot in Sodom; Israel, with the Egyptians; Abraham and Isaac, with their Abimelechs; roses, among thorns; and pearls, among much mud; and, for all, Christ among Publicans and Sinners? So we neither be infected by them, nor they further infected by our confirmation, nor the weak Christian by us infected with offence, nor the Gospel infected with reproach; what danger can there be? If neither we, nor they, nor the weak, nor, which is highest, the Name of God be wronged; who can complain?

You have mine opinion: dispose now of yourself, as you dare. The earth is the Lord's, and you are his: wheresoever he shall find you, be sure you shall find him every where.

EPISTLE X.

TO THE GENTLEMEN OF HIS HIGHNESS'S COURT.

A Description of a Good and Faithful Courtier.

WHILE I adventured other characters into the light, I reserved one for you; whom I account no small part of my joy: the character of What you are; of, What you should be.

Not that I arrogate to myself more than ordinary skill in these high points. I desire not to describe a courtier: how should I, that have but seen and saluted the seat of princes? or, why should I, whose thoughts are sequestered to the Court of Heaven? But, if I would decipher a good Courtier, who can herein control my endeavour? Goodness, in all forms, is but the just subject of our profession. What my observation could not, no less certain rule shall afford me. Our discourse hath this freedom; that it may reach beyond our eyes, with belief. If your experience agree not with my speculation, distrust me. I care not for their barking, which condemn me, at first, of incongruity: as if these two terms were so dissonant, that one sentence could not hold them.

The poet slanders, that abandons all good men from courts. Who knows not, that the Egyptian Court had a Moses; the Court of Samaria, an Obadiah; of Jerusalem, an Ebed-melech; of Da

mascus, a Naaman; of Babylon, a Daniel; of Ethiopia, a good Treasurer; and very Nero's Court, in Paul's time, his Saints ? that I may not tell, how the Courts of Christian Princes have been likened, by our ecclesiastical historians, to some royal Colleges; for their order, gravity, goodness mixed with their majesty and, that I may willingly forbear to compare, as but for envy I durst, yours

with theirs.

I speak boldly: the Court is as nigh to heaven as the Cell; and doth no less require and admit strict holiness. I banish, therefore, hence all impiety; and dare presage his ruin, whose foundation is not laid in goodness.

Our Courtier is no other than virtuous; and serves the God of Heaven, as his first Master: and, from him, derives his duty to these earthen gods; as one, that knows the thrones of heaven and earth are not contrary, but subordinate; and that best obedience springs from devotion.

His ability and will have both conspired, to make him perfectly serviceable; and his diligence waits but for an opportunity.

In the factions of some great rivals of honour, he holds himself in a free neutrality; accounting it safer, in unjust frays, to look on, than to strike and, if necessity of occasion will needs wind him into the quarrel, he chuses not the stronger part, but the better; resolving rather to fall with innocence and truth, than to stand with powerful injustice.

In the changes of favours and frowns, he changeth not. His sincere honesty bears him through all alterations; with wise boldness, if not with success: and, when he spies clouds in the eyes of his prince, which yet of long he will not seem to see, his clear heart gives him a clear face; and, if he may be admitted, his loyal breath shall soon dispel those vapours of ill suggestion: but if, after all attempts of wind and sun, he sees them settled, and the might of his accusers will not let him seem as he is; he gives way in silence, without stomach, and waits upon time.

He is not over hastily intent upon his own promotion; as one, that seeks his prince, not himself: and studies more, to deserve than rise; scorning, either to grow great by his own bribes, or rich by the bribes of others.

His officious silence craves more than others' words: and, if that language be not heard nor understood, he opens his mouth, yet late and sparingly; without bashfulness, without importunity; caring only to motion, not caring to plead.

He is affable and courteous; not vainly popular, abasing his prince's favour to woo the worthless applause of the vulgar: approving by his actions that he seeks one, not many; if not rather, one in many.

His alphabet is his prince's disposition; which, once learned, he plies with diligent service, not with flattery: not commending every action as good; nor the best too much, and in presence.

When he finds an apparent growth of favour, he dares not glory in it to others; lest he should solicit their envy, and hazard the

shame of his own fall: but enjoys it in quiet thankfulness; not neglecting it; not drawing it on too fast. Overmuch forwardness argues no perpetuity: how oft have we known the weak beginnings of a likely fire scattered with over-strong a blast? And, if another rise higher, he envieth not; only emulating that man's merit, and suspecting his own. Neither the name of the Court, nor the grace of a Prince, nor applause of his inferiors, can lift him above him-. self; or lead him to affect any other than a wise mediocrity.

His own sincerity cannot make him over-credulous. They are few and well tried, whom he dares use; or, perhaps, obliged by his own favours. So, in all employments of friendship, he is wary, without suspicion; and, without credulity, charitable.

He is free, as of heart, so of tongue, to speak what he ought; not, what he might: never, but, what princes' ears are not always inured to, mere truth: yet that, tempered, for the measure and time, with honest discretion. But, if he meet with ought that might be beneficial to his master or the state, or whose concealment might prove prejudicial to either, neither fear nor gain can stop his mouth.

He is not basely querulous; not forward to spend his complaints, on the disgraced: not abiding, to build his own favours, upon the unjust ruins of an oppressed fortune. The errors of his fellows he reports with favour; their virtues, with advantage.

He is a good husband of his hours; equally detesting idleness and base disports and placing all his free time upon ingenuous studies, or generous delights; such as may make either his body or mind more fit for noble service.

He listeth not to come to counsel, uncalled; nor, unbidden, to intermeddle with secrets, whether of person or state which yet, once imposed, he manageth with such fidelity and wisdom, as well argue him to have refrained, not out of fear, but judgment.

He knows how to repay an injury with thanks, and a benefit with usury the one, out of a wise patience, without malicious closeness; the other, out of a bounteous thankfulness.

His life is his own willing servant, and his prince's free vassal; which he accounts lent to him, that he may give it for his master: the intercepting of whose harms, he holds both his duty and honour; and, whether he be used as his sword or his shield, he doth both with cheerfulness.

He can so demean himself in his officious attendance, that he equally avoids satiety and oblivion: not needlessly lavish of himself, to set out and shew his parts always at the highest; nor wilfully concealed in great occasions.

He loves to deserve and to have friends; but to trust rather, to his own virtue.

Reason and honesty, next under religion, are his counsellors; which he follows, without care of the event, not without foresight.

In a judgment of unkindness and envy, he never casts the first stone; and hates to pick thanks, by detraction.

He undertakes none but worthy suits; such as are free from baseness and injustice; such as it is neither shame to ask, nor dishonour to grant: not suffering private affections to overweigh public equity or convenience; and better brooking a friend's want, than an ill precedent. And those, which he yieldeth to accept, he loves not to linger, in an afflicting hope: a present answer shall dispatch the fears or desires of his expecting client. His breast is not a cistern to retain, but as a conduit-pipe, to vent the reasonable and honest petitions of his friend.

Finally, he so lives, as one, that accounts not princes' favours hereditary as one, that will deserve their perpetuity; but doubt their change: as one, that knows there is a wide world, beside the Court; and, above this world, a heaven.