dolours and pains as coming from without. But when a man is forced thus to confess:
Myself I may well thank for this,
None else for it blame worthy is:
which is an ordinary speech of them who lamentably bewail their sins from the bottom of their hearts, it causeth grief and sorrow to be so much more heavy, and it is joined with shame and infamy: whereupon it cometh to pass that neither house richly and finely furnished, nor heaps of gold and silver, no parentage or nobility of birth, no dignity of estate and authority, how high soever, no grace in speech, no force and power of eloquence, can yield unto a man's life such a calm (as it were) and peaceable tranquillity, as a soul and conscience clear from wicked deeds, sinful cogitations and lewd designs, which having the source and fountain of life (I mean the inward disposition of the heart) not troubled and polluted, but clear and cleansed; from whence all good and laudable actions do flow and proceed, and the same do give a lively, cheerful, and effectual operation, even by some divine instinct and heavenly inspiration, together with a bold courage and haughty mind, and withal yield the remembrance of a virtuous and well led life, more sweet, pleasant, firm and permanent than is that hope whereof Pindarus writeth, the nurse and fostress of old age: for we must not think that (as Cameades was wont to say) the censers[1] or perfuming pans wherein sweet incense is burned, retain and render the pleasant odour a long time after they be empty, and that the virtuous deeds of a wise and honest man should not always leave behind them in the soul an amiable, delightful and fresh remembrance thereof; by means whereof, that inward joy being watered, is ever green, buddeth and flourisheth still, despising the shameful error of those who with their plaints, moans and wailings defame this life of ours, saying: It is a very hell and place of torments or else a region of confined and exiled souls, into which they were sent away and banished forth of heaven.
And here I cannot choose but highly commend that memorable saying of Diogenes, who seeing once a certain stranger at Lacedæmon dressing and trimming himself very curiously against a festival and high day: What means all this (quoth he), my good friend? to a good and honest man is not every day in
- ↑ Or rosemary banks after they be cut down and left void, as some expound.
