No More Learning

--A good man will avoid the spot of
any sin. The very aspersion is grievous, which makes him choose his way
in his life as he would in his journey. The ill man rides through all
confidently; he is coated and booted for it. The oftener he offends, the
more openly, and the fouler, the fitter in fashion. His modesty, like a
riding-coat, the more it is worn is the less cared for. It is good
enough for the dirt still, and the ways he travels in. An innocent man
needs no eloquence, his innocence is instead of it, else I had never come
off so many times from these precipices, whither men's malice hath
pursued me. It is true I have been accused to the lords, to the king,
and by great ones, but it happened my accusers had not thought of the
accusation with themselves, and so were driven, for want of crimes, to
use invention, which was found slander, or too late (being entered so
fair) to seek starting-holes for their rashness, which were not given
them. And then they may think what accusation that was like to prove,
when they that were the engineers feared to be the authors. Nor were
they content to feign things against me, but to urge things, feigned by
the ignorant, against my profession, which though, from their hired and
mercenary impudence, I might have passed by as granted to a nation of
barkers that let out their tongues to lick others' sores; yet I durst not
leave myself undefended, having a pair of ears unskilful to hear lies, or
have those things said of me which I could truly prove of them. They
objected making of verses to me, when I could object to most of them,
their not being able to read them, but as worthy of scorn. Nay, they
would offer to urge mine own writings against me, but by pieces (which
was an excellent way of malice), as if any man's context might not seem
dangerous and offensive, if that which was knit to what went before were
defrauded of his beginning; or that things by themselves uttered might
not seem subject to calumny, which read entire would appear most free.
At last they upbraided my poverty: I confess she is my domestic; sober of
diet, simple of habit, frugal, painful, a good counseller to me, that
keeps me from cruelty, pride, or other more delicate impertinences, which
are the nurse-children of riches. But let them look over all the great
and monstrous wickednesses, they shall never find those in poor families.
They are the issue of the wealthy giants and the mighty hunters, whereas
no great work, or worthy of praise or memory, but came out of poor
cradles.
It was the ancient poverty that founded commonweals, built
cities, invented arts, made wholesome laws, armed men against vices,
rewarded them with their own virtues, and preserved the honour and state
of nations, till they betrayed themselves to riches.

_Amor nummi_. --Money never made any man rich, but his mind. He that can
order himself to the law of Nature is not only without the sense but the
fear of poverty. O! but to strike blind the people with our wealth and
pomp is the thing! What a wretchedness is this, to thrust all our riches
outward, and be beggars within; to contemplate nothing but the little,
vile, and sordid things of the world; not the great, noble, and precious!
We serve our avarice, and, not content with the good of the earth that is
offered us, we search and dig for the evil that is hidden. God offered
us those things, and placed them at hand, and near us, that He knew were
profitable for us, but the hurtful He laid deep and hid. Yet do we seek
only the things whereby we may perish, and bring them forth, when God and
Nature hath buried them. We covet superfluous things, when it were more
honour for us if we would contemn necessary. What need hath Nature of
silver dishes, multitudes of waiters, delicate pages, perfumed napkins?
She requires meat only, and hunger is not ambitious. Can we think no
wealth enough but such a state for which a man may be brought into a
premunire, begged, proscribed, or poisoned? O! if a man could restrain
the fury of his gullet and groin, and think how many fires, how many
kitchens, cooks, pastures, and ploughed lands; what orchards, stews,
ponds and parks, coops and garners, he could spare; what velvets,
tissues, embroideries, laces, he could lack; and then how short and
uncertain his life is; he were in a better way to happiness than to live
the emperor of these delights, and be the dictator of fashions; but we
make ourselves slaves to our pleasures, and we serve fame and ambition,
which is an equal slavery.