Twenty and Two EPISTLES OF LUCIUS ANNAEUS SENECA The Philosopher Translated out of the Originall into English Verse LONDON Printed by Thomas Harper MDCLIV To the Reader IT is the opinion of some Criticks that most of the Epistles of Seneca though intitled to Lucilius were not usually sent or so intended but were emergent conceptions in his Garden House or Bed for such a Wit could no where be idle And therefore being no continued discourse like his other Works but confin'd to the brevity of Letters which as our Author sayes ought not to fill the left hand of the Reader and being withall interweav'd with Philosophicall Precepts and Stoicall sentences it is not to bee suppos'd they can or ought to bee rendred in all parts with that fluency of Phrase which is requisite in his Consolations and other Bookes of Designe An exuberant Phansie pent in a short discourse is like waves of the Sea driven into a Creek which role thick upon each other Or like fire in a Furnace the flame whereof being as it were crush'd up together cannot display it selfe like that of a Pile Yet how usefull the Epistles are heare what a learned Writer sayes One Booke one Epistle of Seneca is sufficient to order and rectifie life if men be willing to be reform'd And truly such is the severity of his admonitions that what hath been said of Epictetus is by some more properly aver'd of Seneca He that shall not be rous'd up with his acrimony will hardly be corrected but at the Bar of Hell EPISTLE I. SO doe Lucilius mind thine owne affaires And time that hitherto hath unawares Been stoln or snatcht or else hath slipt away Collect and keepe believe 't is as I say Some of our time is stoln som snatcht and som Slips from us But our shameful'st loss does come By negligence Observe and thou 't find still Much of our time is spent in doing ill The greatest part in doing nothing all In doing what 's not ours Whom canst thou call To minde that value's time that life does prize Or who condsiers that he dayly dies We err in thinking Death makes little hast Whereof a great part is already past Our whole remaine of life is in deaths power Then doe Lucilius as thou writ'st each houre Embrace if thou 't the present apprehend Thou wilt the lesse on the next day depend Life while it is defer'd is in its flight All other things are borrow'd we have right Onely to time this slipprie alone Nature hath giv'n us in possession Whereof most men deprive us as they list But wee in so great folly doe persist That we for small and vile things alwayes such As are reparable thinke our selves much Engag'd whereas not any one conceaves That he 's a whit in debt who time receaves When that 's the onely thing that never can Be recompenc'd by the most gratefull man Thou't aske perhaps what I doe who to thee Prescribe these things I will heerein be free As one that 's prodigall but diligent I keepe a true account of what is spent I cannot say that I doe nothing lose But what and when and how I can disclose And give the reasons of my poverty But I may well to my owne selfe apply What happen's unto many who are brought To indigence not by their owne defaut All pity none relieve's What is then I do not conceave them to be poore men Whom whatsoere remaines suffices Yet I 'd rather thou should'st keepe what thou dost get And soone begin to husband what 's thine owne For as our Ancestors to us have shone I' th bottom 't is too late of thrift t' advise For both the least and worst it 'h bottome lies EPIST. II. BY what thou writ'st me and by what I heare I have good hope of thee Thou do'st forbeare To wander too and fro and by the change Of thy abodes thee from thy rest estrange This toffing up and downe notes a sicke minde The surest argument that I can find Of a sound judgement is t' have power to stay And with one's selfe abide But by the way Take heed the reading such variety Of Authors and of Bookes doe not implie A kind of wandring lightnesse thou had'st need To dwell on some mens wit and thereon feed If thou desirest to draw from thence that good Which should be fixt and throughly understood He 's no where that is every where And as It fare's for the most part with them which passe Their time in travell making that their ends They meet with many hosts but with few friends So must it needs befall them who apply Themselves to no mans wit familiarly But hastily run over all The meat Does ' us no good which we no sooner eat But presently cast up againe and store Of remedies retard our health the more A wound drest diversly comes not to ' a scar Plants prosper not that oft removed are And ther 's not so commodious a thing That cursorily us'd can profit bring Variety of Bookes distracts the mind And therefore since thou canst not leasure finde To read all that thou hast it will suffice To have what thou canst read But heerein lies Much pleasure thou wilt say now to resort To this booke then to that It does purport A feeble stomacke to tast many meates The great diversity whereof begets Corruption and not good nourishment To approv'd Authors then be most intent And if perchance thou sometimes dost desire To looke on others to the first retire ' Gainst poverty ' gainst death get every day Some muniments the like against the sway Of other ills And when th' hast fully gon Ore many things be sure to cull out one Which the same day thou mayst concoct I tread This path my selfe of many things I read I fasten still on some 'T is this dayes gaine Which I from Epicurus did obtaine For I to others tents use to pass over Not as a fugitive but to discover Glad poverty 's an honest thing sayes hee if it be glad it is not povertie For he that povertie with constant minde Can beare is rich Nor can we justly find Him to be poor that little hath he 's poor Who is not satisfi'd but covets more What matter ' i st how much our chests contain What store of corne does in our barnes remain What herds of cattel in our pastures feed What mony w' have at use if we proceed To seek what 's other men's If we desire Not what we have but what we may acquire But would'st thou know what mean in riches lies First what is needfull next what does suffice EPIST. III. THou writ'st a Letter as thou saist by ' a friend And therin also dost a caution send Not to leave all thy secrets to his trust For 't is not us'd by thee So that thou dost Him in the very same Epistle call Thy friend and yet denyest it withall Thou tak'st that first word in the vulgar sence And cal'st him
be in safety kept There are Lucillus may things which scare Rather then hurt most of our dangers are More in conceit then truth to thee I speake Not the strong words of Stoicks but more weake For we say all those things which do wring forth Howlings and groanes are slight and little worth Le ts passe by these great words though good Gods true I wish that thou wouldest onely this pursue Not to anticipate thy ill or make That iminent which nere perhaps will take Effect at least is not already come Some things more trouble us than they ought som Before they ought some other things perplex us Extreamely which ought not at all to vex us We griefe augment or faine or else forestall As for that other which 'tweene us does fall In question we 'll defer it what I deem To be but light thou heavy wilt esteeme For some I know under the whip will smile And others at one buffet groanes the while But whether these things from their owne strength flow Or from our weakeness wee 'l herafter show Mean time do thou but this when any shall Seeke to perswade thee thou art wretched call Thy reason to thee and consider well What thou dost feele and not what others tell Say to thy selfe with patience who knowest best Thine owne condition why have these exprest Such griefe for me why do they tremble so And feare to touch or to come neare as though Calamities infection did containe Does any hurt in what they feare remaine Is not the thing reputed to be ill Rather then so indeed be therefore still Ready t' interrogate thy selfe and say Whether do I without a cause give way To trouble and vexation doe I make That ill which is not what course shall I take Sayst thou to know if what disturbes my rest Be true or false to try that here 's a test We troubled are either at present things Or future or at both Sence easily brings A judgement of things present if unbound Thy body be and in thy power and sound And if no injury procures thy woe What future is thou afterward shalt know That is not this dayes worke But 't is expected How art thou sure the ill will be effected For we with jealousies much troubled are And that which oftentimes procures a warr Report will much more worke on each of us 'T is very true my deare Lucilius We quickly to opinions do adhere And question not the thing that causes feare Nor doe we shake it off but thereat tremble And turning so our backes we much resemble Those whom the dust made by a flocke of sheepe Drives from their tents or that are struck with deep Astonishment at some strange fable bred Among the vulgar without author spred False things I know not how do more molest Whereas the true within their measure rest Whatse'ver an uncertaine rumor sends Is subject to conjectures and depends On the construction of a fearefull mind And therefore Panick above other kind Of feares is carry'd on with violence Those without reason are this without sense Then let 's make further search Some future ill Is like t' ensue we are not sure it will How many ' unexpected things fall out How many ' expected are nere brought about But say they should heereafter chance Yet why Shouldest thou make hast to meet thy misery When ill does come thou soone enough wilt grieve In the meane time do thou the best believe What shall I gaine by thy credulity Time Many things may intervene whereby Th' approaching danger may be stopt or past Or else upon an others head be cast A raging fire hath opt away to flight And some have from a ruin'd house fal'n light Some from the stroake of death have been repriv'd And have the executioner furviv'd For even il-fortune hath it's levity It may or may not come And therefore I Advile thee while 't is not to thinke the best Oft-times when no true fignes do manifest Ensuing ill the mind vaine things pretends And either doubtfull wordes misapprehends Or when another is with us offended Conceives far more than is perhaps intended Not waighing how much anger hee does show But to what height an angry man may goe If feare be what it may there will be found No cause of life of misery no bound Let wisdome here assist by strength of mind Let 's now reject the feare whereof we find Apparent cause at least let errour chase Errour away and let hope feare displace Of those things which are feard ther 's none so sure But it is surer that what does procure Both feare and hope deceaves us Let us then Take care t' examine feare and hope and when All things are found uncertaine let us doe For our owne ease what w'have most mind unto And though there be more arguments of feare yet let us this course follow and forbeare To toyle and vex our selves and keepe this still Fixt in our minds thus most men though no ill They feele nor certaine are they ever shall Do ner'thelesse into distempers fall For no man makes resistance when he finds Feare once begin to trouble him or minds How to finde out the truth No man resorts To reason when his eares meet sad reports Or sayes the author's vaine and being vaine Does either vainely credit them or faine We yield up our beleife to what we heare And doubtfull things as they were certaine feare We keepe no moderation in our errour A scruple soone converts into a terror I am asham'd such language to devise And cherish thee with such slight remedies Let others say perhaps this will not be But thou what if it happen we shall see Whether it will or not 'T will come perchance For my behoofe death will my life advance Poyson made Socrates more great If wee The sword th'assertor of his libertie Wrest out of Cato's hand we then detract Much from the glory of so brave an act But too much time is in advising spent T' incourage thee is more expedient I doe not lead thee to those wayes which thwart Thy nature thou for these things framed art Then let not thy endeavours be forborne Thy innate gifts to cherish and adorne But I shall end my Letter now if I Set to the seale that is if I applie Some gallant phrase that to our use relates Follie 'mong other ills appropriates This also that it still begins to live If to the meaning of these words thou 't give Lucillius the best of men good heed Thou 'lt understand what sordid things proceed From the vaine thoughts of men who dayly mind New wayes of life and when even death they find Approaching they vaine hopes of life pursue Looke round about and thou shalt often view Old men that are prepar'd to venter on Long journeys businesse and ambition Yet nothing can be found of greater scorne Than an old man beginning to be borne I should not add an author to this speach But
Have one whom he in sicknesse may relieve Or from a deadly enemie reprieve Who minds himselfe and for that cause embraces A mutuall friendship he the same disgraces As he began so will he end He chose A friend in whom his trust he might repose In his restraint No sooner shall the chaine Rattle but he is gone This is the vaine Frindship which people temporie call So long he will be welcome as he shall Be profitable And therefore friends flock round 'Bout them who with prosperity abound But leave them who grow poore to sit alone Such friends when trial comes are quickly gone Of this we find examples ev'ry day Some their friends leave for fear and some betray The end with the beginning must agree If any have begun a friend to bee Because 't is needfull or if he suppose That if any fit reward of friendship growes But in it selfe alone 't will not be haâ—d To make him against friendship take reward Why do I seek a friend because that I May then have one with whom I 'de wish to die Or else accompany to banishment Or with mine owne I may his death prevent What thou describ'st not friendship is but trade He that mindes profit will himselfe perswade To look no further Between amity And Lovers passions there 's some sympathy Which we may call mad friendship Yet ther 's none Will love for gain or for ambition Love of it selfe all other things neglecting Allures the minde of men to the affecting Of such a seeming beauty hoping withall That this affection will be mutuall What then can lewd effects of lust agree With a good cause But here thou 't answer mee The question is not whether friendship ought For it owne selfe or something else be sought If for it selfe in ought to be desir'd He may injoy it that can live retir'd Contented with himselfe But how may he Enjoy it as a thing of excellency And must approach it with a minde unshaken With change of Fortune or with lucre taken He deprives friendship of her Majesty That seeks her onely for prosperity A wise man 's with himselfe content But this By some Lucilius perverted is They a wise man too much restrain and think That he into his skin should alwaies shrink We must distinguish and this sense allow A wise man 's with himselfe content but how To live in happiness but not to live For many things must him assistance give In this whereas to that is requisite Only a minde that keeps it selfe upright And contemns fortune The distinction Crysippus makes must here be look't upon A wise man needs not any thing although He stands in need of many But we know On th' other side a fool does nothing want And yet wants all by reason he hath scant The use of any thing A wise man needs Hands eyes and ev'ry other thing that feeds The being of this life A wise man's state Needs nothing For to need does intimate Necessitie and this we must denie That any wise man 's in necessity Though with himselfe he then be satisfi'd Yet he needs friends and many would provide Not that he may get happiness thereby For he without friends can live happily The chief good to no outward help pretends But rests at home and on it selfe depends If of it selfe but any part be sought Out of it selfe 't is ready to be brought To obay Fortune What condition then Of life will that be of a wise man when Committed to some prison he 's berest Of friends or else in some strange Countrey left Or held in a long Voyage or giv'n o're By all is thrown upon some barbarous shore Like that of Jove at the Worlds dissolution When Heav'n and Earth and gods are in confusion Whole Nature ceasing for a time He rests Wholly within himselfe and there invests His cogitations some such thing as this A wise man does He with him still is And therein wrapt As long as he 's permitted To rule his own affaires he 's well acquitted With only himselfe When he thinks fit he marries Brings up his children yet he lives and tarries Still with himselfe though he 'll not live if he Shall alwayes be debard of company No profit of his owne does him invite To friendship but a naturall appetite And as of other things ther 's an innate Sweetnesse so of friendship as we hate A solitary life so we delight In company as nature does incite Man to love man so by a secret kind Of longing we to friendship are inclind And though he be most fervent in his love Rankes his friends with himselfe oft-times above Yet in himselfe he seates his good and sayes As Stilpo ' gainst whom Epicure inveighs In that fore-nam'd Epistle for when he His countrey wife and children found to be Distroy'd and lost he went forth all alone Yet happy still from that destruction And meeting with Demetrius whose Sir-name From the destruction of Cities came And was cal'd Poliorcetes who to bost His cruelty askt if he ought had lost All my things are with me said he Behold A stout and valiant man who thus controld The victory of his foe I have sayd he Lost nothing He compeld his enemie To question his owne conquest I beare hence All that is mine as Justice Temperance Prudence and ev'n the vertue which does make us Count nothing good that ever can forsake us We wonder at some creatures which through fire Doe passe unhurt we may that man admire Much more whose constant vertue him affords A safe and secure passage both through swords Ruine and flames Dost thou not plainely see How much 't is easier to get victory Ore a whole nation than one man alone Such words no lesse than he the Stoiks own Their unhurt goods they carry with the same Courage through cities when th' are in a flame They are contented with themselves and bound Their whole felicitie within that ground But lest thou shouldst conceave that onely we Scatter abroad such glorious speeches He Which so reproves this Stilpo Epicure Hath sent out such to which I would procure Thy approbation though already I Have finished my present diarie Who thinkes not his own goods most large and stable Though he possesse the world is miserable Or if thou 't rather have it thus declard For we must now not words but sence regard Who judges not himselfe to be most blest Would wretched be though he the world possest And that from natures ground such words appeare To be in use the Comicke Poet heare He is not blest is who not understood So by himselfe What though thy state be good If thou conceav'st it ill Or wilt thou say Though he that 's basely covetous perhaps may Say he is happy or he that 's Lord of store Of servants but a servant unto more That his report shall therefore make him so Not what he sayes but what he thinkes we know Is to be waigh'd nor what he thinkes to day
we must in either Respect the mind and must consider whether This can indulgent be to povertie Or that to wealth use no indulgencie For otherwise a homely bed and gown Are but slight arguments unless 't be known Whether he of his own accord does chuse them Or through necessity be forc'd to use them But the minds greatnesse then is manifest When we make hast to these things as the best And thinke them easy too for sure they are Easy and if Lucilius thou l't prepare Them with premeditated thoughts to greet Believe it thou wilt also find them sweet For therein that especially does lie Without which nothing's sweet security Wherefore I judge it necessary now And great men as I say have don't t' allow Some certaine dayes our plentifull estate To lay as 't were aside and imitate True by imaginary poverty And this so much the rather we should trie Because we drenched are in dayly pleasure And all attempts as difficult doe measure We must be rousd from sleepe with a sharpe touch And shewd that nature stands us not in much For no man is borne rich whosoere is sent Into the world is bid to be content With milke and clouts from these beginnings we With Kingdomes hardly can sufficed be The order is intermitted in the two following Epistles EPIST. XXVI I Told thee lately old-age did appeare To be before me now I rather feare T is left behind me Therefore some new terme Must fit these yeares this body so infirme Because indeed old age is chiefly meant Of age that 's weary not of age that 's spent Put me among decrepit men and such As ready are the brinke of life to touch Yet I rejoyce with thee that I do find Times injury in body not in mind For vices onely and what serv'd t' uphold And minister to vices are grown old My mind is lively and is joyfull too That with the body't has not much to doe A great part of the burthen that opprest The soul is off She ships and does contest With me 'bout age She says it is her youth And we may well believe it to be truth Shee then improves I joy to thinke what I Owe in this time of rest and modesty To wisdome what to age and stricktly search What things I cannot what I would not reach And whether I can any thing effect Which I would rather utterly reject For if I cannot doe a thing that 's bad Then that I cannot doe it I am glad What dammage therefore can a man pretend When he finds that which ought to end to end It is the greatest damage thou wiltsay To wast to pine or rather melt away For we are not with sudden violence Layd prostrate but are gently carry'd hence Each day draws somthing from our strength What death Can then be better than to puffe out breath When nature 's spent not that ther 's any ill In wounds or other accidents which kill But because this is a more easie way To be with-drawn after a soft decay For my part as if tryall were at hand And that day to whose sentence I must stand For all my times expence I 'm thus prepard To say whats'ever I have yet declard By deeds or words is nothing those I find To be deceitfull pledges of my mind And were wrapt up in many an outward show I must trust death if I the truth would know I do not therefore fearefully expect That day wherein I plainly shall detect Whether when arts and fallaces depart I speake great things or have them in my heart Whether I wore a vizard to disguise When I with boldnesse fortun did despise Remove men's estimation which is still Uncertaine and mistakes both good and ill Remove thy studies thy whole life's chiefe care And death of thee true judgement will declare This I would say disputes and learnd discourse And all that observation can enforce From precepts of wise men with readinesse Of language cannot the minds strength expresse For many very timerous and weake In resolution often boldly speake It plainly will appeare what thou hast don When thy toule is departing I 'll not shun The judgement but will cheerfully assent To the condition This to me is meant Yet thou must also thinke that I impart My mind to thee T is true thou yonger art What 's that Yeares are not numberd T is a doubt In what place death will come to find thee out And therefore be thou ready to embrace And meet him willingly in any place But I would end this Letter and my hand Is neare the close Yet rites I understand Must be performd and portage must be payd I need not tell on whom the charge is layd Thou knowst whose chest I use Doe thou but stay A while and I my selfe these debts will pay In the meane time disbursement I 'll procure Of this intended sum from Epicure Who thus hath said Think whether 't be more fit That death should come to us or we to it The meaning of these words does open lie It is a noble worke to learne to die T is needlesse thou perhaps wilt say to learne What we can use but once we may discerne The reason of the needfulnesse from thence For when we cannot have experience That we have learn'd we are oblig'd therby To practise such a thing continually Contemplate death He bids us who says so Contemplate freedome Who to die does know Knows not to serve he ore all power prevailes At least is out of it What then are Jailes To him or hideous dungeons which do more Afflict he alwayes findes an open dore There is one chaine that binds us fast The love Of life which though we should not quite remove Yet we should loosen so that when ther 's cause Nothing should hinder us or make us pause With courage and alacrity to run And do that quickly which must once be don EPIST. XLI THou seekst a safe and profitable thing If thou endeavour'st as thou writ'st to bring Thy mind to become good It is but vaine To wish what from thy selfe thou maist obtaine We need not lift our hands to Heaven nor crave The Sexton's leave that we accesse may have To th' eares of th' image as if then we were More eas'ly heard For God to us is neare Is with us nay within us This I say There is a sacred spirit that does stay And rest in us and is our guardian too Observing all the good and ill we doe And us as we use it it alwayes uses No man is good till God the good infuses Who can without him above fortune rise In great designes with him we must advise In all good men although we cannot tell What God a God undoubtedly does dwell If thou to som thick wood should'st come by chance Whose ancient trees their lofty heads advance 'Bove comon height whose arms are spred between Each other so no sun-shine can be seen The trees so tall the place so