ties, the other with blind experiments and auricular traditions and impostures, hath committed so many spoils, I hope I should bring in industrious observations, grounded conclusions, and profitable inventions and discoveries; the best state of that province. This, whether it be curiosity or vain glory, or nature, or (if one take it favorably), philanthropia, is so fixed in my mind as it cannot be removed. And I do easily see, that place of any reasonable countenance doth bring commandment of more wits than of a man's own; which is the thing I greatly affect. And for your Lordship, perhaps you shall not find more strength and less encounter in any other. And if your Lordship shall find now, or at any time, that I do seek or affect any place whereunto any that is nearer unto your Lordship shall be concurrent, say then that I am a most dishonest man. And if your Lordship will not carry me on, I will not do as Anaxagoras did, who reduced himself with contemplation unto voluntary poverty, but this I will do-I will sell the inheritance I have, and purchase some lease of quick revenue, or some office of gain that shall be executed by deputy, and so give over all care of service, and become some sorry book-maker, or a true pioneer in that mine of truth, which (he said) lay so deep. This which I have writ unto your Lordship is rather thoughts than words, being set down without all art, disguising, or reservation. Wherein I have done honor both to your Lordship's wisdom, in judging that that will be best believed of your Lordship which is truest, and to your Lordship's good nature, in retaining nothing from you. And even so I wish your Lordship all happiness, and to myself means and occasions to be added to my faithful desire to do you service. From my lodgings at Gray's Inn.

A MORE DIVINE PERFECTION

RICHARD HOOKER

[From Ecclesiastical Polity, Book 1, ch. xi.] Now if men had not naturally this desire to be happy, how were it possible that all men should have it? All men have. Therefore this desire in man is natural. It is not in our power not to do the same; how should it then be in our power to do it coldly or remissly? So that our desire being natural is also in that degree of earnestness whereunto nothing can be added. And is it probable that God should frame the hearts

of all men so desirous of that which no man may obtain? It is an axiom of Nature that natural desire cannot utterly be frustrate. This desire of ours being natural should be frustrate, if that which may satisfy the same were a thing impossible for man to aspire unto. Man doth seek a triple perfection: first a sensual, consisting in those things which very life itself requireth either as necessary supplements, or as beauties and ornaments thereof; then an intellectual, consisting in those things which none underneath man is either capable of or acquainted with; lastly a spiritual and divine, consisting in those things whereunto we tend by supernatural means here, but cannot here attain unto them. They who make the first of these three the scope of their whole life, are said by the Apostle to have no god but only their belly, to be earthly-minded men. Unto the second they bend themselves, who seek especially to excel in all such knowledge and virtue as doth most commend men. To this branch belongeth the law of moral and civil perfection. That there is somewhat higher than either of these two, no other proof doth need than the very process of man's desire, which being natural should be frustrate, if there were not some farther thing wherein it might rest at the length contented, which in the former it cannot do. For man doth not seem to rest satisfied, either with fruition of that wherewith his life is preserved, or with performance of such actions as advance him most deservedly in estimation; but doth further covet, yea oftentimes manifestly pursue with great sedulity and earnestness, that which cannot stand him in any stead for vital use; that which exceedeth the reach of sense; yea somewhat above capacity of reason, somewhat divine and heavenly, which with hidden exultation it rather surmiseth than conceiveth; somewhat it seeketh, and what that is directly it knoweth not, yet very intentive desire thereof doth so incite it, that all other known delights and pleasures are laid aside, they give place to the search of this but only suspected desire. If the soul of man did serve only to give him being in this life, then things appertaining unto this life would content him, as we see they do other creatures; which creatures enjoying what they live by seek no further, but in this contentation do show a kind of acknowledgment that there is no higher good which doth any way belong unto them. With us it is otherwise.

For although the beauties, riches, honors, sciences, virtues, and perfections of all men living, were in the present possession of one; yet somewhat beyond and above all this there would still be sought and earnestly thirsted for. So that Nature even in this life doth plainly claim and call for a more divine perfection than either of these two that have been mentioned.

SELF-DISCIPLINE: THE STORY OF GUYON

EDMUND SPENSER

[The Faerie Queene, Book II, Canto VII]

1

As Pilot well expert in perilous wave, That to a stedfast starre his course hath bent,

When foggy mistes or cloudy tempests have The faithfull light of that faire lampe yblent,

And cover'd heaven with hideous dreriment,
Upon his card and compas firmes his eye,
The maysters of his long experiment,
And to them does the steddy helme apply,
Bidding his winged vessell fairely forward
fly;

2

So Guyon having lost his trustie guyde, Late left beyond that Ydle lake, proceedes Yet on his way, of none accompanyde;' And evermore himselfe with comfort feedes Of his own vertues and praise-worthie dedes. So, long he yode, yet no adventure found, Which fame of her shrill trompet worthy reedes;

For still he traveild through wide wastefull ground,

That nought but desert wildernesse shewed all around.

3

At last he came unto a gloomy glade,
Cover'd with boughes and shrubs from heav-
ens light,

Whereas he sitting found in secret shade
An uncouth, salvage, and uncivile wight,
Of griesly hew and fowle ill favour'd sight;
His face with smoke was tand, and eies were
bleard,

His head and beard with sout were ill bedight,

His cole-blacke hands did seem to have been seard

In smythes fire-spitting forge, and nayles. like clawes appeard.

4

His yron cote, all overgrowne with rust,
Was underneath enveloped with gold;
Whose glistring glosse, darkned with filthy
dust,

Well yet appeared to have beene of old
A worke of rich entayle and curious mould,
Woven with antickes and wyld ymagery;
And in his lap a masse of coyne he told,
And turned upside downe, to feede his eye
And covetous desire with his huge threas-

ury.

5

And round about him lay on every side Great heapes of gold that never could be spent ;

Of which some were rude owre, not purifide Of Mulcibers devouring element;

Some others were new driven, and distent Into great Ingowes and to wedges square; Some in round plates withouten moniment; But most were stampt, and in their metal bare

The antique shapes of kings and kesars
straunge and rare.
6

Soone as he Guyon saw, in great affright
And haste he rose for to remove aside
Those pretious hils from straungers envious
sight,

And downe them poured through an hole full wide

Into the hollow earth, them there to hide. But Guyon, lightly to him leaping, stayd His hand that trembled as one terrifyde; And though himselfe were at the sight dismayd,

Yet him perforce restraynd, and to him doubtfull sayd:

Ne wote I but thou didst these goods be

reave

From rightfull owner by unrighteous lot, Or that bloodguiltinesse or guile them blot." "Perdy," (quoth he) "yet never eie did vew, Ne tong did tell, ne hand these handled not; But safe I have them kept in secret mew From hevens sight, and powre of al which them poursew."

20

"What secret place" (quoth he) "can safely hold

So huge a masse, and hide from heavens eie? Or where hast thou thy wonne, that so much gold

Thou canst preserve from wrong and robbery?"

"Come thou," (quoth he) "and see." So by and by

Through that thick covert he him led, and fownd

A darkesome way, which no man could descry,

That deep descended through the hollow ground,

And was with dread and horror compassed arownd.

21

At length they came into a larger space, That stretcht itselfe into an ample playne; Through which a beaten broad high way did trace,

That streight did lead to Plutoes griesly

rayne.

By that wayes side there sate internall
Payne,

And fast beside him sat tumultuous Strife:
The one in hand an yron whip did strayne,
The other brandished a bloody knife;
And both did gnash their teeth, and both
did threten life.

22

On thother side in one consort there sate Cruell Revenge, and rancorous Despight, Disloyall Treason, and hart-burning Hate; But gnawing Gealosy, out of their sight Sitting alone, his bitter lips did bight; And trembling Feare still to and fro did fly,

And found no place wher safe he shroud him might:

Lamenting Sorrow did in darknes lye, And shame his ugly face did hide from living eye.