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as Thamar did with Judah; instead of a kid, the necessary provisions for human life, they are contented to do it for rings and bracelets. The great dealers in this world may be divided into the ambitious, the covetous, and the voluptuous; and that all these men sell themselves to be slaves though to the vulgar it may seem a stoical paradox, will appear to the wise so plain and obvious, that they will scarce think it deserves the labour of argumentation.

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Let us first consider the ambitious; and those, both in their progress to greatness, and after the attaining of it. There is nothing truer than what Sallust says, Dominationis in alios servitium suum mercedem dant; they are content to pay so great a price, as their own servitude, to purchase the domination over others. The first thing they must resolve to sacrifice, is their whole time; they must never stop, nor ever turn aside whilst they are in the race of glory, no not like Atalanta for goiden apples. Neither indeed can a man stop himself if he would when he is in this

career:

Fertur equis auriga, neque audit currus habe

nas2.

Pray, let us but consider a little, what means servile things men do for this imaginary food. We cannot fetch a greater example of it, than from the chief men of that nation which boasted most of liberty. To what pitiful baseness did the noblest Romans submit themselves, for the obtaining of a pretorship, or the consular dignity! They put on the habit of suppliants, and ran about on foot, and in dirt, through all the tribes, to beg voices; they flattered the poorest artisans; and carried a nomenclator with them, to whisper in their ear every man's name, lest they should mistake it in their salutations; they shook the hand and kissed the cheek of every popular tradesman; they stood all day at every market in the public places, to show and ingratiate themselves to the rout; they employed all their friends to solicit for them; they kept open tables in every street; they distributed wine, and bread, and money, even to the vilest of the people. En Romanos rerum dominos 3! Behold the masters of the world begging from door to door! This particular humble way of greatness is now out of fashion; but yet every ambitious person is still in some sort a Roman candidate. He must feast and bribe, and attend and flatter, and adore many beasts, though not the beast with many heads. Catiline, who was so proud that he could not content himself with a less power than Sylla's, was yet so humble, for the attaining of it, as to make himself the most contemptible of all servants; to be a public bawd, to provide whores, and something worse for all the young gentlemen of Rome, whose hot lusts and courages, and heads, he thought he might make use of. And since I happen here to propose Catiline for my instance (though there be thousand of examples for the sanie thing) give me leave to tran

I Fragm. ed. Mattaire, p. 116.

Virg. Georg. i. 514.

a Virg. Æn. i. 282.

scribe the character which Cicero 4 gives of this noble slave, because it is a general description of all ambitious men, and which Machiavel perhaps would say ought to be the rule of their life and actions:

"This man says he, as most of you may well remember) had many artificial touches and strokes, that looked like the beauty of great virtues; his intimate conversation was with the worst of men, and yet he seemed to be an admirer and lover of the best; he was furnished with all the nets of lust and luxury, and yet wanted not the arms of labour and industry: neither do I believe that there was ever any monster of nature, composed out of so many different and disagreeing parts. Who more acceptable, sometimes, to the most honourable persons: who more a favourite to the most infamous ? who, sometimes, appeared a braver champion; who; at other times, a bolder enemy to his countrey? who more dissolute in his pleasures? who more patient in his toils? who more rapacious in robbing? who more profuse in giving? Above all things, this was remarkable and admirable in him, the arts he had to acquire the good opinion and kindness of all sorts of men, to retain it with great complaisance, to communicate all things to them, to watch and serve all the occasions of their fortune, both with his money, and bis interest, and his industry; and, if need were, not by sticking at any wickedness whatsoever that might be useful to them, to bend and turn about his own nature and laveer with every wind: to live severely with the melancholy, merrily with the pleasant, gravely with the aged, wantonly with the young, desperately with the bold, and debauchedly with the luxurious: with this variety and multiplicity of his nature-as he had made a collection of friendships with all the most wicked and restless of all nations; so, by the artificial simulation of some virtues, he made a shift to ensnare some honest and eminent persons into his familiarity. Neither could so vast a design as the destruction of this empire have been undertaken by him, if the immanity of so many vices had not been covered and disguised by the appearances of some excellent qualities."

I see, methinks, the character of an AntiPaul, "who became all things to all men," that he might destroy all; who only wanted the assistance of fortune, to have been as great as his friend Cæsar was a little after him. And the ways of Cæsar to compass the same ends (I mean till the civil war, which was but another manner of setting his country on fire) were not unlike these, though he used afterwards his unjust dominion with more moderation than I think the other would have done. Sallust therefore, who was well acquainted with them both, and with many such like gentlemen of his time, says, "that it is the nature of ambition, to make men lyars and cheaters; to hide the truth in their breasts, and show, like jugglers, another thing in their mouths to cut all friendships and enmities to the measure of their own interest; and to make a good countenance without the help of a good will." And can there be freedom with this perpetual constraint? what is it but a kind of De Bell. Catil. c. x

4 Orat. pro. M. Cælio.

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rack, that forces men to say what they have no
mind to!

tion." This was spoken as became the bravest man who was ever born in the bravest common

But with us generally, no condition passes for servitude, that is accompanied with great riches, with honours, and with the service of many inferiors. This is but a deception of the sight through a false medium; for if a groom serve a gentleman in his chamber, that gentleman a lord, and that lord a prince; the groom, the gentleman, and the lord, are as much servants one as the other; the circumstantial difference of the one's getting only his bread and wages, the second a plentiful, and the third a superfluous estate, is no more intrinsical to this matter, than the difference between a plain, a rich, and gaudy livery. I do not say, that he who sells his whole time and his own will for one hundred thousand is not a wiser merchant than he who does it for one hundred pounds; but I will swear they are both merchants, and that he is happier than both, who can live contentedly without selling that estate to which he was born. But this dependance upon superiors is but one chain of the lovers of power:

I have wondered at the extravagant and bar-wealth.
barous stratagem of Zopirus, and more at the
praises which I find of so deformed an action;
who, though he was one of the seven grandees of
Persia, and the son of Megabises, who had freed
before his country from an ignoble servitude, slit
his own nose and lips, cut off his own ears, scourg-
ed and wounded his whole body, that he might,
ander pretence of having been mangled so inhu-
manly by Darius, be received into Babylon (then
besieged by the Persians) and get into the com-
mand of it by the recommendation of so cruel a
sufferance, and their hopes of his endeavouring
to revenge it. It is great pity the Babylonians
suspected not his falsehood, that they might
have cut off his hands too, and whipt him back
again. But the design succeeded; he betrayed
the city, and was made governor of it. What
brutish master ever punished his offending slave
with so little mercy, as ambition did this Zopirus?
and yet how many are there in all nations, who
imitate him, in some degree, for a less reward;
who, though they endure not so much corporal
pain for a small preferment or some honour (as
they call it), yet stick not to commit actions, by
which they are more shamefully and more last-
ingly stigmatised! But you may say, though
these be the most ordinary and open ways to
greatness, yet there are narrow, thorny, and
little-trodden paths too, through which some
men find a passage by virtuous industry. I
grant, sometimes they may; but then that in-
dustry must be such, as cannot consist with liber-
ty, though it may with honesty.

Thou art careful, frugal, painful; we commend
a servant so, but not a friend.

Well then, we must acknowledge the toil and drudgery which we are forced to endure in this ascent; but we are epicures and lords when once we are gotten up into the high places. This is but a short apprenticeship, after which we are made free of a royal company. If we fall in love with any beauteous woman, we must be content that they should be our mistresses whilst we woo them: as soon as we are wedded and enjoy, it is we shall be the masters.

I am willing to stick to this similitude in the case of greatness: we enter into the bonds of it, like those of matrimony: we are bewitched with the outward and painted beauty, and take it for better or worse, before we know its true nature and interior inconveniences. A great fortune (says Seneca) is a great servitude; but many are of that opinion which Brutus imputes (I hope untruly) even to that patron of liberty, his friend Cicero: "We fear (says he to Atticus) death, and banishment, and poverty, a great deal too much. Cicero, I am afraid, thinks these to be the worst of evils; and, if he have but some persons, from whom he can obtain what he has a mind to, and others who will flatter and worship him, seems to be well enough contented with an honourable servitude, if any thing indeed ought to be called honourable in so base and contumelious a condi

This parenthesis does honour to the writer's sense, as well as candour. HURD.

Amatorem trecentæ
Pirithoum cohibent catenæ7.

Let us begin with him by break of day: for by that time he is besieged by two or three hundred suitors; and the hall and antichambers (all the out-works) possessed by the enemy: as soon as his chamber opens, they are ready to break into that, or to corrupt the guards, for entrance. This is so essential a part of greatness, that whosoever is without it, looks like a fallen favourite, like a person disgraced, and condemned to do what he pleases all the morning. There are some who, rather than want this, are contented to have their rooms filled up every day with murmuring and cursing creditors, and to charge bravely through a body of them to get to their coach. Now I would fain know which is the worst duty, that of any one particular person who waits to speak with the great man, or the great man's, who waits every day to speak with all company.

Aliena negotia centum

Per caput, & circa saliunt latus

a hundred businesses of other men (many unjust, and most impertinent) fly continually about his head and ears, and strike him in the face like Dorres. Let us contemplate him a little at another special scene of glory, and that is his table. Here he seems to be the lord of all nature:

the earth affords him her best metals for his dishes, her best vegetables and animals for his food; the air and sea supply him with their choicest birds and fishes; and a great many men, who look like masters, attend upon him; and yet, when all this is done, even all this is but table d'hoste; it is crowded with people for whom he cares not, with many parasites and some spies, with the most burthensome sort of guests the endeavourers to be witty.

7 Hor. 3 Od. iv. 79.
Hor. 2 Sat. vi. 34

(jealousy, fear, envy, grief, and all the et cætera of their passions, which are the secret, but constant, tyrants and torturers of their life, I omit here, because, though they be symptoms most frequent and violent, in this disease, yet they are common too in some degree to the epidemical disease of life itself.

But every body pays him great respect; every body commends his meat, that is, his money; every body admires the exquisite dressing and ordering of it, that is, his clerk of the kitchen, or his cook; every body loves his hospitality, that is, his vanity. But I desire to know why the honest inn-keeper, who provides a public table for his profit, should be but of a mean proBut the ambitious man, though he be so many fession; and he, who does it for his honour, a ways a slave (o toties servus!) yet he bears it munificent prince. You will say, because one bravely and heroically; he struts and looks big sells, and the other gives: nay, both sell, upon the stage; he thinks himself a real prince though for different things; the one for plain in his masking-habit, and deceives too all the money; the other for I know not what jewels, foolish part of his spectators: he is a slave in whose value is in custom and in fancy. If then saturnalibus. The covetous man is a downright his table be made "a snare" (as the Scripture 9 servant, a draught-horse without bells or fea speaks) to his liberty," where can he hope for thers: ad metalla damnatus, a man condemned freedom? There is always, and every where, to work in mines, which is the lowest and hardest some restraint upon him. He is guarded with condition of servitude; and, to increase his microwds, and shackled with formalities. The half sery, a worker there for he knows not whom : hat, the whole hat, the half smile, the whole "He heapeth up riches, and knows not who shall smile, the nod, the embrace, the positive part- enjoy them 3;" it is only sure, that he himself ing with a little bow, the comparative at the mid-neither shall nor can enjoy them. He is an indidle of the room, the superlative at the door; and, gent, needy slave; he will hardly allow himself if the person be pan huper sebastus, there is a hy- clothes and board-wages: persuperlative ceremony then of conducting him to the bottom of the stairs, or to the very gate: as if there were such rules set to these Leviathans, as are to the sea, "Hitherto shalt thou go, and no further."

Perditur hæc inter misero lux 2, Thus wretchedly the precious day is lost.

How many impertinent letters and visits must he receive, and sometimes answer both too as impertinently! He never sets his foot beyond his threshold, unless, like a funeral, he have a train to follow him; as if, like the dead corpse, he could not stir, till the bearers were all ready. "My life (says Horace, speaking to one of these magnificos) is a great dea! more easy and commodious than thine, in that I can go into the market, and cheapen what I please, without being wondered at; and take my horse and ride as far as Tarentum, without being missed." It is an unpleasant constraint to be always under the sight and observation, and censure, of others; as there may be vanity in it, so methinks there should be vexation, too, of spirit: and I wonder how princes can endure to have two or three hundred men stand gazing upon them whilst they are at dinner, and taking notice of every bit they eat. Nothing seems greater and more lordly than the multitude of domestic servants; but even this too, if weighed seriously, is a piece of servitude; unless you will be a servant to them (as many men are) the trouble and care of yours in the government of them all, is much more than that of every one of them in their observance of you. I take the profession of a school-master to be one of the most useful, and which ought to be of the most honourable in a commonwealth; yet certainly all his fasces and tyrannical authority over so many boys takes away his own liberty more than theirs.

I do but slightly touch upon all these particulars of the slavery of greatness: I shake but a few of their outward chains; their anger, hatred, Job xxxviii. 11.

• Ps. lxix. 22.
♣ Hor. 2 Sat. vi, 59,

Unciatim vix de demenso suo,
Suum defraudans genium, comparsit miser 4;

He defrauds not only other men, but his own genius; he cheats himself for money. But the servile and miserable condition of this wretch is so apparent, that I leave it, as evident to every man's sight, as well as judgment.

It seems a more difficult work to prove that the voluptuous man too is but a servant: what can be more the life of a freeman, or, as we say ordinarily, of a gentleman, than to follow nothing but his own pleasures? Why, I will tell you who is that true freeman, and that true gentleman, not he who blindly follows all his pleasures (the very name of follower is servile); but he who rationally guides them, and is not hindered by outward impediments in the conduct and enjoyment of them. If I want skill or force to restrain the beast that ride upon, though I bought it, and call it my own, yet in the truth of the matter, I am at that time rather his man, than he iny horse. The voluptuous men (whom we have fallen upon) may be divided, I think, into the lustful and luxurious, who are both servants of the belly; the other, whom we spoke of before, the ambitious and the covetous, were xana Inglay, evil wild beasts: these are yagigns agyal, slow bellies, as our translation renders it, but the word agyaì (which is a fantastical word, with two directly opposite significations) will bear as well the translation of quick or diligent bellies; and both interpretations may be applied to these men, Metrodorus said, "that he had learnt rafãs yargi xagilesbai, to give his belly just thanks for all his pleasures." This, by the calumniators of Epicurus's philosophy, was objected as one of the most scandalous of all their sayings; which, according to my charitable understanding, may admit a very virtuous sense, which is, that he thanked his own belly for that moderation, in the

3 Ps. xxxxix. 6.

+ Phorm. Act I. Sc. i. ver. 43.

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I'll beg no more: if more thou'rt please to give,
I'll thankfully that overplus receive:
If beyond this no more be freely sent,
I'll thank for this and go away content.

MARTIAL, Lib. I. Ep. lvi.

Vota tui breviter, &c.

WELL then, sir, you shall know how far extend
The prayers and hopes of your poetic friend.
He does not palaces nor manors crave,
Would be no lord, but less a lord would have;
The ground he holds, if he his own can call,
He quarrels not with Heaven because 'tis small:
Let gay and toilsome greatness others please,
He loves of homely littleness the ease.
Can any man in gilded rooms attend,
And his dear hours in humble visits spend,
When in the fresh and beauteous fields he may
With various healthful pleasures fill the day?
If there be man (ye gods!) I ought to hate,
Dependance and attendance be his fate :
Still let him busy be, and in a crowd,
And very much a slave, and very proud :
Thus he perhaps powerful and rich may grow;
No matter, O ye gods! that I'll allow:
But let him peace and freedom never see;
Let him not love this life, who loves not me!

MARTIAL, Lib. II. Ep. liii.

Vis fieri liber? &c.

WOULD you be free? 'Tis your chief wish you say;

This, I confess, is a freeman: but it may be said, that many persons are so shackled by their fortune, that they are hindered from enjoyment of that manumission which they have obtained from virtue. I do both understand, and in part fee!, the weight of this objection; all I can answer to it is, that we must get as much liberty as we can, we must use our utmost endeavours, and, when all that is done, be contented with the length of that line which is allowed us. If you ask me, in what condition of life I think the Come on; I'll show thee, friend, the certain way; most allowed; I should pitch upon that sort of If to no feasts abroad thou lov'st to go, people, whom King James was wont to call the While bounteous God does bread at home bestow; happiest of our nation, the men placed in the If thou the goodness of thy cloaths dost prize country by their fortune above an high constable, By thine own use, and not by others' eyes; and yet beneath the trouble of a justice of peace; If (only safe from weathers) thou canst dwell in a moderate plenty, without any just argument In a small house, but a convenient shell; for the desire of increasing it by the care of If thou, without a sigh, or golden wish, many relations; and with so much knowledge and Canst look upon thy beechen bowl and dish; love of piety and philosophy (that is, of the If in thy mind such power and greatness be, study of God's laws, and of his creatures) as mayThe Persian king's a slave compar'd with thee. afford him matter enough never to be idle, though without business; and never to be melancholy, though without sin or vanity.

I shall conclude this tedious discourse with a prayer of mine in a copy of Latin verses, of which I remember no other part; and (pour faire bonne bouche) with some other verses upon the same subject:

Magne Deus, quod ad has vitæ brevis attinet
horas,

Da mihi, da panem libertatemque, nec ultrà
Sollicitas effundo preces: si quid datur ultrà,
Accipiam gratus; si non, contentus abibo.

For the few hours of life allotted me,
Give me (great God!) but bread and liberty,

$ Hor. 2 Sat. vii. 83. Virg. Georg. iii. 7.

MARTIAL, Lib. II. Ep. Ixviii.

Quod te nomine ? &c.

THAT I do you with humble bows no more,
And danger of my naked head, adore;
That I, who" Lord and master," cry'd erewhile,
Salute you, in a new and different style,
By your own name, a scandal to you now;
Think not that I forget myself or you :
By loss of all things, by all others sought,
This freedom, and the freeman's hat, is bought.
A lord and master no man wants, but he
Who o'er himself has no authority;
Who does for honours and for riches strive,
And follies, without which lords cannot live.
If thou from fortune dost no servant crave,
Believe it, thou no master need'st to have.

ODE UPON LIBERTY.

FREEDOM with Virtue takes her seat; Her proper place, her only scene,

Is in the golden mean,

She lives not with the poor nor with the great.
The wings of those Necessity has clipt,

And they 're in Fortune's bridewell whipt
To the laborious task of bread;

These are by various tyrants captive led.
Now wild Ambition with imperious force
Rides, reins, and spurs, them like th' unruly
horse;

And servile Avarice yokes them now,
Like toilsome oxen to the plough;
And sometimes Lust, like the misguided light,
Draws them through all the labyrinths of night.
If any few among the great there be

From these insulting passions free,
Yet we ev'n those, too, fetter'd see

By custom, business, crowds, and formal decency;
And, wheresoe'er they stay, and wheresoe'er they

go,

Impertinences round them flow:
These are the small uneasy things
Which about greatness still are found,
And rather it molest than wound :

Like gnats, which too much heat of summer brings;

But cares do swarm there, too, and those have As, when the honey does too open lie, [stings: A thousand wasps about it fly:

Nor will the master ev'n to share admit ;

The master stands aloof, and dares not taste of it.

'Tis morning; well; I fain would yet sleep on;
You cannot now; you must be gone
To court, or to the noisy hall:
Besides, the rooms without are crowded all;
The stream of business does begin,
And a spring-tide of clients is come in.
Ah cruel guards, which this poor prisoner keep!
Will they not suffer him to sleep?
Make an escape; out at the postern flee,
And get some blessed hours of liberty:
With a few friends, and a few dishes, dine,
And much of mirth and moderate wine.
To thy bent mind some relaxation give,
And steal one day out of thy life to live.
Oh happy man (he cries) to whom kind Heaven
Has such a freedom always given !

Why, mighty madman, what should hinder thee
From being every day as free?

In all the free born nations of the air,

Never did bird a spirit so mean and sordid bear,
As to exchange his native liberty
Of soaring boldly up into the sky,
His liberty to sing, to perch, or fly.

When, and wherever he thought good,

And all his innocent pleasures of the wood,
For a more plentiful or constant food.
Nor ever did ambitious rage
Make him into a painted cage,
Or the false forest of a well-hung room,
For honour, and preferment, come.
Now, blessings on you all, ye heroic race,

Who keep your primitive powers and rights so Though men and angels fell.

Of all material lives the highest place

To you is justly given;

[well,

And ways and walks the nearest Heaven. Whilst wretched we, yet vain and proud, think fit To boast, that we look up to it.

Ev'n to the universal tyrant, Love,
You homage pay but once a year:
None so degenerous and unbirdly prove,

As his perpetual yoke to bear;
None, but a few unhappy household fowl,
Whom human lordship does control:
Who from their birth corrupted were
By bondage, and by man's example here.

He's no small prince who every day

Thus to himself can say ;

Now will I sleep, now eat, now sit, now walk, Now meditate alone, now with acquaintance talk; This I will do, here I will stay,

Or, if my fancy call me away,

My man and I will presently go ride
(For we, before, have nothing to provide,
Nor, after, are to render an account)

To Dover, Berwick, or the Cornish mount,
If thou but a short journey take,
As if thy last thou wert to make,
Business must be dispatch'd, ere thou canst part,
Nor canst thou stir, unless there be

A hundred horse and men to wait on thee,
And many a mule and many a cart;
What an unwieldly man thou art!
The Rhodian Colossus so

A journey, too, might go.

Where honour, or where conscience, does not bind,
Nor other law shall shackle me;
Slave to myself I will not be,

Nor shall my future actions be confin'd
By my own present mind.

Who by resolves and vows engag'd does stand
For days, that yet belong to Fate,
Does, like an unthrift, mortgage his estate,
Before it falls into his hand :

The bondman of the cloister so,
All that he does receive does always owe;
And still, as time comes in, it goes away

Not to enjoy, but debts to pay.
Unhappy slave, and pupil to a bell,
Which his hours-work, as well as hours, does tell!
Unhappy, till the last, the kind releasing knell.
If life should a well-order'd poem be,

(In which he only hits the white Who joins true profit with the best delight) The more heroic strain let others take,

Mine the Pindaric way I'll make; [free,
The matter shall be grave, the numbers loose and
It shall not keep one settled pace of time,
In the same tune it shall not always chime,
Nor shall each day just to his neighbour rhyme;

A thousand liberties it shall dispense,
And yet shall manage all without offence

Or to the sweetness of the sound, or greatness of the sense;

Nor shall it never from one subject start,
Nor seek transitions to depart,
Nor its set way o'er stiles and bridges make,
Nor through lares a com ass take,,

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