God's best witness; and
when he stands before the bar for truth his tongue is calmly free, his
forehead firm, and he with erect and settled countenance hears his just
sentence, and rejoices in it. The jailors that attend him are to him his
pages of honour; his dungeon, the lower part of the vault of heaven; his
rack or wheel, the stairs of his ascent to glory: he challenges his
executioners, and encounters the fiercest pains with strength of
resolution; and while he suffers the beholders pity him, the tormentors
complain of weariness, and both of them wonder. No anguish can master
him, whether by violence or by lingering. He accounts expectation no
punishment, and can abide to have his hopes adjourned till a new day.
Good laws serve for his protection, not for his revenge; and his own
power, to avoid indignities, not to return them. His hopes are so strong
that they can insult over the greatest discouragements; and his
apprehensions so deep that, when he hath once fastened, he sooner
leaveth his life than his hold. Neither time nor perverseness can make
him cast off his charitable endeavours and despair of prevailing; but in
spite of all crosses and all denials, he redoubleth his beneficial
offers of love. He trieth the sea after many shipwrecks, and beats still
at that door which he never saw opened. Contrariety of events doth but
exercise, not dismay him; and when crosses afflict him, he sees a divine
hand invisibly striking with these sensible scourges, against which he
dares not rebel nor murmur. Hence all things befall him alike; and he
goes with the same mind to the shambles and to the fold. His recreations
are calm and gentle, and not more full of relaxation than void of fury.
This man only can turn necessity into virtue, and put evil to good use.
He is the surest friend, the latest and easiest enemy, the greatest
conqueror, and so much more happy than others, by how much he could
abide to be more miserable.

OF THE TRUE FRIEND.

His affections are both united and divided; united to him he loveth,
divided betwixt another and himself; and his one heart is so parted,
that whilst he has some his friend hath all. His choice is led by
virtue, or by the best of virtues, religion; not by gain, not by
pleasure; yet not without respect of equal condition, of disposition not
unlike; which, once made, admits of no change, except he whom he loveth
be changed quite from himself; nor that suddenly, but after long
expect