and poore,
not one in the whole world, that can pleade immunitie from this
condition. Man in this point worse then all other creatures, is
borne vnable to support himselfe: neither receyuing in his first
yeeres any pleasure, nor giuing to others but annoy and
displeasure, and before the age of discretion passing infinite
dangers. Only herein lesse vnhappy then in other ages, that he
hath no sence nor apprehension of his vnhappines. Now is there
any so weake minded, that if it were graunted him to liue
alwayes a childe, would make accompt of such a life? So then it
is euident that not simplie to liue is a good, but well and
happilie to liue. But proceede. Growes he? with him growe his
trauailes. Scarcely is he come out of his nurses hands, scarcely
knowes he what it is to play, but he falleth into the subiection
of some Schoolemaister: I speake but of those which are best and
most precisely brought vp. Studies he? it is euer with repining.
Playes he? neuer but with feare. This whole age while he is
vnder the charge of an other, is vnto him but as a prison. He
only thinks, and only aspires to that time when freed from the
mastership of another, he may become maister of himselfe:
pushing onward (as much as in him lies) his age with his
shoulder, that soone he may enioy his hoped libertie. In short,
he desires nothing more then the ende of this base age, and the
beginning of his youth. And what else I pray you is the
beginning of youth, but the death of infancy? the beginning of
manhood, but the death of youth? the beginning of to morow, but
the death of to day? In this sort then desires he his death, and
iudgeth his life miserable: and so cannot be reputed in any
happines or contentment. Behold him now, according to his wish,
at libertie: in that age, wherein _Hercules_ had the choise, to
take the way of vertue or of vice, reason or passion for his
guide, and of these two must take one. His passion entertains
him with a thousand delights, prepares for him a thousand
baites, presents him with a thousand worldly pleasures to
surprize him: and fewe there are that are not beguiled. But at
the reconings ende what pleasures are they? pleasures full of
vice which hold him still in a restles feauer: pleasures subiect
to repentance, like sweete meates of hard disgestion: pleasures
bought with paine and perill, spent and past in a moment, and
followed with a long and lothsome remorse of conscience. And
this is the very nature (if