{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_10274/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_10274","id":"gutenberg_10274","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10274","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Christianity","Libel and slander","Sermons, English -- 17th century","Swearing"],"text":"This eBook was prepared by Les Bowler, St. Ives, Dorset.\n\n\n\n\nSERMONS ON EVIL SPEAKING\n\nBY ISAAC BARROW, D.D.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\nIntroduction by Professor Henry Morley.\n\nAgainst Foolish Talking and Jesting.\n\nAgainst Rash and Vain Swearing.\n\nOf Evil-speaking in General.\n\nThe Folly of Slander. Part 1.\n\nThe Folly of Slander. Part 2.\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION.\n\n\n\nIsaac Barrow was born in London in 1630.  His father was draper to \nthe king.  His mother died when he was four years old.  He was named \nIsaac after an uncle, who died in 1680, Bishop of St. Asaph.  Young \nIsaac Barrow was educated at the Charterhouse School, and at \nFelstead, before he went, in 1643, to Cambridge.  He entered first \nat Peterhouse, where his uncle Isaac was a Fellow, but at that time \nhis uncle was ejected from his Fellowship for loyalty to the King's \ncause, and removed to Oxford; the nephew, who entered at Cambridge, \ntherefore avoided Peterhouse, and went to Trinity College.  Young \nBarrow's father also was at Oxford, where he gave up all his worldly \nmeans in service of the King.\n\nThe young student at Cambridge did not conceal his royalist feeling, \nbut obtained, nevertheless, a scholarship at Trinity, with some \nexemptions from the Puritan requirements of subscription.  He took \nhis B.A. degree in 1648, and in 1649 was elected to a fellowship of \nTrinity, on the same day with his most intimate college friend John \nRay, the botanist.  Ray held in the next year several college \noffices; was made in 1651 lecturer in Greek, and in 1653 lecturer in \nMathematics.  Barrow proceeded to his M.A. in 1652, and was admitted \nto the same degree at Oxford in 1653.  In 1654, Dr. Dupont, who had \nbeen tutor to Barrow and Ray, and held the University Professorship \nof Greek, resigned, and used his interest, without success, to get \nBarrow appointed in his place.  Isaac Barrow was then a young man of \nfour-and-twenty, with the courage of his opinions in politics and in \nchurch questions, which were not the opinions of those in power.\n\nIn 1655 Barrow left Cambridge, having sold his books to raise money \nfor travel.  He went to Paris, where his father was with other \nroyalists, and gave some help to his father.  Then he went on to \nItaly, made stay at Florence, and on a voyage from Leghorn to Smyrna \nstood to a gun in fight with a pirate ship from Algiers that was \nbeaten off.  At college and upon his travels Barrow was helped by \nthe liberality of public spirited men who thought him worth their \naid.  He went on to Constantinople, where he studied the Greek \nFathers of the Church; and he spent more than a year in Turkey.  He \nreturned through Germany and Holland, reached England in the year \nbefore the Restoration, and then, at the age of twenty-nine, he \nentered holy orders, for which in all his studies he had been \npreparing.\n\nThe Cambridge Greek Professorship, which had before been denied him, \nwas obtained by Barrow immediately after the Restoration.  Soon \nafterwards he was chosen to be Professor of Geometry at Gresham \nCollege.  In 1663 he preached the sermon in Westminster Abbey at the \nconsecration of his uncle, Isaac, as Bishop of St. Asaph.  In that \nyear also he became, at Cambridge, the first Lucasian Professor of \nMathematics, for which office he resigned his post at Gresham \nCollege.\n\nAs Lucasian Professor of Mathematics, Isaac Barrow had among his \npupils Isaac Newton.  Newton succeeded to the chair in 1669.  Barrow \nresigned because he feared that the duties of the mathematical chair \ndrew his thoughts too much from the duties of the pulpit, towards \nthe full performance of which he had desired all studies to be aids.  \nHe was then intent upon the writing of an \"Exposition of the Creed, \nDecalogue, and Sacraments.\"  He held a prebend in Salisbury \nCathedral, and a living in Wales, that yielded little for his \nsupport after the Professorship had been resigned.  But he was one \nof the King's chaplains, was made D.D. by the King in 1670, and in \n1672 he was appointed Master of Trinity by Charles II., who said, \nwhen he appointed Isaac Barrow, \"that he gave the post to the best \nscholar in England.\"  Barrow was Vice-Chancellor of the University \nwhen he died in 1677, during a visit to London on the business of \nhis college.\n\nThe sermons here given were first published in 1678, in a volume \nentitled \"Several Sermons against Evil-speaking.\"  That volume \ncontained ten sermons, of which the publisher said that \"the two \nlast, against pragmaticalness and meddling in the affairs of others, \ndo not so properly belong to this subject.\"  The sermons here given \nfollow continuously, beginning with the second in the series.  The \ntext of the first sermon was \"If any man offend not in word, he is a \nperfect man.\"  The texts to the last three were:  \"Speak not evil \none of another, brethren;\" \"Judge not;\" and \"That ye study to be \nquiet, and to do your own business.\"\n\nThere were also published in 1678, the year after Barrow's death, a \nsermon preached by him on the Good Friday before he died, a volume \nof \"Twelve Sermons preached upon several Occasions,\" and the second \nedition of a sermon on the \"Duty and Reward of Bounty to the Poor.\"  \nBarrow's works were collected by Archbishop Tillotson, and \npublished, in four folio volumes, in the years 1683-1687.  There \nwere other editions in three folios in 1716, in 1722, and in 1741.  \nDr. Dibdin said of Barrow that he \"had the clearest head with which \nmathematics ever endowed an individual, and one of the purest and \nmost unsophisticated hearts that ever beat in the human breast.\"  In \nthese sermons against Evil Speaking he distinguishes as clearly as \nShakespeare does between the playfulness of kindly mirth that draws \nmen nearer to each other and the words that make division.  No man \nwas more free than Isaac Barrow from the spirit of unkindness.  The \nman speaks in these sermons.  Yet he could hold his own in wit with \nthe light triflers of the court of Charles the Second.  It is of him \nthat the familiar story is told of a playful match at mock courtesy \nwith the Earl of Rochester, who meeting Dr. Barrow near the king's \nchamber bowed low, saying, \"I am yours, doctor, to the knee \nstrings.\"  Barrow (bowing lower), \"I am yours, my lord, to the shoe-\ntie.\"  Rochester:  \"Yours, doctor, down to the ground.\"  Barrow:  \n\"Yours, my lord, to the centre of the earth.\"  Rochester (not to be \nout-done):  \"Yours, doctor, to the lowest pit of hell.\"  Barrow:  \n\"There, my lord, I must leave you.\"\n\nBarrow's mathematical power gave clearness to his sermons, which \nwere full of sense and piety.  They were very carefully written, \ncopied and recopied, and now rank with the most valued pieces of the \nliterature of the pulpit.  He was deeply religious, although he had, \nbesides learning, a lively wit, and never lost the pluck that taught \nhim how to man a gun against a pirate.  He was \"low of stature, \nlean, and of a pale complexion,\" so untidy that on one occasion his \nappearance in the pulpit is said to have caused half the \ncongregation to go out of church.  He gave his whole mind and his \nwhole soul to his work for God.  Mythical tales are told of the \nlength of some of his sermons, at a time when an hour's sermon was \nnot considered long.  Of one charity-sermon the story is that it \nlasted three hours and a half, and that Barrow was requested to \nprint it--\"with the other half which he had not had time to \ndeliver.\"  But we may take this tale as one of the quips at which \nBarrow himself would have laughed very good-humouredly.\n                                             H. M.\n\n\n\n\nSERMONS ON EVIL-SPEAKING.\n\n\n\n\nAGAINST FOOLISH TALKING AND JESTING.\n\n\n\n\"Nor foolish talking, nor jesting, which are not convenient.\"--\nEphes. v.4.\n\nMoral and political aphorisms are seldom couched in such terms that \nthey should be taken as they sound precisely, or according to the \nwidest extent of signification; but do commonly need exposition, and \nadmit exception:  otherwise frequently they would not only clash \nwith reason and experience, but interfere, thwart, and supplant one \nanother.  The best masters of such wisdom are wont to interdict \nthings, apt by unseasonable or excessive use to be perverted, in \ngeneral forms of speech, leaving the restrictions, which the case \nmay require or bear, to be made by the hearer's or interpreter's \ndiscretion; whence many seemingly formal prohibitions are to be \nreceived only as sober cautions.  This observation may be \nparticularly supposed applicable to this precept of St. Paul, which \nseemeth universally to forbid a practice commended (in some cases \nand degrees) by philosophers as virtuous, not disallowed by reason, \ncommonly affected by men, often used by wise and good persons; from \nwhich consequently, if our religion did wholly debar us, it would \nseem chargeable with somewhat too uncouth austerity and sourness:  \nfrom imputations of which kind as in its temper and frame it is \nreally most free (it never quenching natural light or cancelling the \ndictates of sound reason, but confirming and improving them); so it \ncarefully declineth them, enjoining us that \"if there be any things\" \n[Greek] (\"lovely,\" or grateful to men), \"any things\" [Greek] (\"of \ngood report\" and repute), \"if there be any virtue and any praise\" \n(anything in the common apprehensions of men held worthy and \nlaudable), we should \"mind those things,\" that is, should yield them \na regard answerable to the esteem they carry among rational and \nsober persons.\n\nWhence it may seem requisite so to interpret and determine St. \nPaul's meaning here concerning eutrapelia (that is, facetious \nspeech, or raillery, by our translators rendered \"jesting\"), that he \nmay consist with himself, and be reconciled to Aristotle, who \nplaceth this practice in the rank of virtues; or that religion and \nreason may well accord in the case:  supposing that, if there be any \nkind of facetiousness innocent and reasonable, conformable to good \nmanners (regulated by common sense, and consistent with the tenor of \nChristian duty, that is, not transgressing the bounds of piety, \ncharity, and sobriety), St. Paul did not intend to discountenance or \nprohibit that kind.\n\nFor thus expounding and limiting his intent we have some warrant \nfrom himself, some fair intimations in the words here.  For first, \nwhat sort of facetious speech he aimeth at, he doth imply by the \nfellow he coupleth therewith; [Greek], saith he, [Greek] (foolish \ntalking, or facetiousness):  such facetiousness therefore he \ntoucheth as doth include folly, in the matter or manner thereof.  \nThen he further determineth it, by adjoining a peculiar quality \nthereof, unprofitableness, or impertinency; [Greek] (which are not \npertinent), or conducible to any good purpose:  whence may be \ncollected that it is a frivolous and idle sort of facetiousness \nwhich he condemneth.\n\nBut, however, manifest it is that some kind thereof he doth \nearnestly forbid:  whence, in order to the guidance of our practice, \nit is needful to distinguish the kinds, severing that which is \nallowable from that which is unlawful; that so we may be satisfied \nin the case, and not on the one hand ignorantly transgress our duty, \nnor on the other trouble ourselves with scruples, others with \ncensures, upon the use of warrantable liberty therein.\n\nAnd such a resolution seemeth indeed especially needful in this our \nage (this pleasant and jocular age) which is so infinitely addicted \nto this sort of speaking, that it scarce doth affect or prize \nanything near so much; all reputation appearing now to veil and \nstoop to that of being a wit:  to be learned, to be wise, to be \ngood, are nothing in comparison thereto; even to be noble and rich \nare inferior things, and afford no such glory.  Many at least (to \npurchase this glory, to be deemed considerable in this faculty, and \nenrolled among the wits) do not only make shipwreck of conscience, \nabandon virtue, and forfeit all pretences to wisdom; but neglect \ntheir estates, and prostitute their honour:  so to the private \ndamage of many particular persons, and with no small prejudice to \nthe public, are our times possessed and transported with this \nhumour.  To repress the excess and extravagance whereof, nothing in \nway of discourse can serve better than a plain declaration when and \nhow such a practice is allowable or tolerable; when it is wicked and \nvain, unworthy of a man endued with reason, and pretending to \nhonesty or honour.\n\nThis I shall in some measure endeavour to perform.\n\nBut first it may be demanded what the thing we speak of is, or what \nthis facetiousness doth import?  To which question I might reply as \nDemocritus did to him that asked the definition of a man, \"'Tis that \nwhich we all see and know\":  any one better apprehends what it is by \nacquaintance than I can inform him by description.  It is indeed a \nthing so versatile and multiform, appearing in so many shapes, so \nmany postures, so many garbs, so variously apprehended by several \neyes and judgments, that it seemeth no less hard to settle a clear \nand certain notion thereof, than to make a portrait of Proteus, or \nto define the figure of the fleeting air.  Sometimes it lieth in pat \nallusion to a known story, or in seasonable application of a trivial \nsaying, or in forging an apposite tale:  sometimes it playeth in \nwords and phrases, taking advantage from the ambiguity of their \nsense, or the affinity of their sound:  sometimes it is wrapped in a \ndress of humorous expression; sometimes it lurketh under an odd \nsimilitude; sometimes it is lodged in a sly question, in a smart \nanswer, in a quirkish reason, in a shrewd intimation, in cunningly \ndiverting, or cleverly retorting an objection:  sometimes it is \ncouched in a bold scheme of speech, in a tart irony, in a lusty \nhyperbole, in a startling metaphor, in a plausible reconciling of \ncontradictions, or in acute nonsense:  sometimes a scenical \nrepresentation of persons or things, a counterfeit speech, a mimical \nlook or gesture passeth for it:  sometimes an affected simplicity, \nsometimes a presumptuous bluntness giveth it being; sometimes it \nriseth from a lucky hitting upon what is strange, sometimes from a \ncrafty wresting obvious matter to the purpose:  often it consisteth \nin one knows not what, and springeth up one can hardly tell how.  \nIts ways are unaccountable and inexplicable, being answerable to the \nnumberless rovings of fancy and windings of language.  It is in \nshort, a manner of speaking out of the simple and plain way (such as \nreason teacheth and proveth things by), which by a pretty surprising \nuncouthness in conceit or expression doth affect and amuse the \nfancy, stirring in it some wonder, and breeding some delight \nthereto.  It raiseth admiration, as signifying a nimble sagacity of \napprehension, a special felicity of invention, a vivacity of spirit, \nand reach of wit more than vulgar:  it seeming to argue a rare \nquickness of parts, that one can fetch in remote conceits \napplicable; a notable skill, that he can dexterously accommodate \nthem to the purpose before him; together with a lively briskness of \nhumour, not apt to damp those sportful flashes of imagination.  \n(Whence in Aristotle such persons are termed [Greek], dexterous men; \nand [Greek], men of facile or versatile manners, who can easily turn \nthemselves to all things, or turn all things to themselves.) It also \nprocureth delight, by gratifying curiosity with its rareness or \nsemblance of difficulty (as monsters, not for their beauty, but \ntheir rarety; as juggling tricks, not for their use, but their \nabstruseness, are beheld with pleasure) by diverting the mind from \nits road of serious thoughts; by instilling gaiety and airiness of \nspirit; by provoking to such dispositions of spirit in way of \nemulation or complaisance; and by seasoning matters, otherwise \ndistasteful or insipid, with an unusual, and thence grateful tang.\n\nBut saying no more concerning what it is, and leaving it to your \nimagination and experience to supply the defect of such explication, \nI shall address myself to show, first, when and how such a manner of \nspeaking may be allowed; then, in what matters and ways it should be \ncondemned.\n\n\n1.  Such facetiousness is not absolutely unreasonable or unlawful, \nwhich ministereth harmless divertisement, and delight to \nconversation (harmless, I say, that is, not entrenching upon piety, \nnot infringing charity or justice, not disturbing peace).  For \nChristianity is not so tetrical, so harsh, so envious, as to bar us \ncontinually from innocent, much less from wholesome and useful \npleasure, such as human life doth need or require.  And if jocular \ndiscourse may serve to good purposes of this kind; if it may be apt \nto raise our drooping spirits, to allay our irksome cares, to whet \nour blunted industry, to recreate our minds being tired and cloyed \nwith graver occupations; if it may breed alacrity, or maintain good \nhumour among us; if it may conduce to sweeten conversation and \nendear society; then is it not inconvenient, or unprofitable.  If \nfor those ends we may use other recreations, employing on them our \nears and eyes, our hands and feet, our other instruments of sense \nand motion, why may we not as well to them accommodate our organs of \nspeech and interior sense?  Why should those games which excite our \nwits and fancies be less reasonable than those whereby our grosser \nparts and faculties are exercised?  Yea, why are not those more \nreasonable, since they are performed in a manly way, and have in \nthem a smack of reason; feeling also they may be so managed, as not \nonly to divert and please, but to improve and profit the mind, \nrousing and quickening it, yea sometimes enlightening and \ninstructing it, by good sense conveyed in jocular expression?\n\nIt would surely be hard that we should be tied ever to knit the \nbrow, and squeeze the brain (to be always sadly dumpish, or \nseriously pensive), that all divertisement of mirth and pleasantness \nshould be shut out of conversation; and how can we better relieve \nour minds, or relax our thoughts, how can we be more ingenuously \ncheerful, in what more kindly way can we exhilarate ourselves and \nothers, than by thus sacrificing to the Graces, as the ancients \ncalled it?  Are not some persons always, and all persons sometimes, \nincapable otherwise to divert themselves, than by such discourse?  \nShall we, I say, have no recreation? or must our recreations be ever \nclownish, or childish, consisting merely in rustical efforts, or in \npetty sleights of bodily strength and activity?  Were we, in fine, \nobliged ever to talk like philosophers, assigning dry reasons for \neverything, and dropping grave sentences upon all occasions, would \nit not much deaden human life, and make ordinary conversation \nexceedingly to languish?  Facetiousness therefore in such cases, and \nto such purposes, may be allowable.\n\n2.  Facetiousness is allowable when it is the most proper instrument \nof exposing things apparently base and vile to due contempt.  It is \nmany times expedient, that things really ridiculous should appear \nsuch, that they may be sufficiently loathed and shunned; and to \nrender them such is the part of a facetious wit, and usually can \nonly be compassed thereby.  When to impugn them with down-right \nreason, or to check them by serious discourse, would signify \nnothing, then representing them in a shape strangely ugly to the \nfancy, and thereby raising derision at them, may effectually \ndiscountenance them.  Thus did the prophet Elias expose the wicked \nsuperstition of those who worshipped Baal:  \"Elias (saith the text) \nmocked them, and said, 'Cry aloud; for he is a god, either he is \ntalking, or he is pursuing, or he is in a journey, or peradventure \nhe sleeps, and must be awaked.'\"  By which one pregnant instance it \nappeareth that reasoning pleasantly-abusive in some cases may be \nuseful.  The Holy Scripture doth not indeed use it frequently (it \nnot suiting the Divine simplicity and stately gravity thereof to do \nso); yet its condescension thereto at any time sufficiently doth \nauthorise a cautious use thereof.  When sarcastic twitches are \nneedful to pierce the thick skins of men, to correct their lethargic \nstupidity, to rouse them out of their drowsy negligence, then may \nthey well be applied when plain declarations will not enlighten \npeople to discern the truth and weight of things, and blunt \narguments will not penetrate to convince or persuade them to their \nduty, then doth reason freely resign its place to wit, allowing it \nto undertake its work of instruction and reproof.\n\n3.  Facetious discourse particularly may be commodious for reproving \nsome vices, and reclaiming some persons (as salt for cleansing and \ncuring some sores).  It commonly procureth a more easy access to the \nears of men, and worketh a stronger impression on their hearts, than \nother discourse could do.  Many who will not stand a direct reproof, \nand cannot abide to be plainly admonished of their fault, will yet \nendure to be pleasantly rubbed, and will patiently bear a jocund \nwipe; though they abominate all language purely bitter or sour, yet \nthey can relish discourse having in it a pleasant tartness.  You \nmust not chide them as their master, but you may gibe with them as \ntheir companion.  If you do that, they will take you for pragmatical \nand haughty; this they may interpret friendship and freedom.  Most \nmen are of that temper; and particularly the genius of divers \npersons, whose opinions and practices we should strive to correct, \ndoth require not a grave and severe, but a free and merry way of \ntreating them.  For what can be more unsuitable and unpromising, \nthan to seem serious with those who are not so themselves, or demure \nwith the scornful?  If we design either to please or vex them into \nbetter manners, we must be as sportful in a manner, or as \ncontemptuous as themselves.  If we mean to be heard by them, we must \ntalk in their own fashion, with humour and jollity; if we will \ninstruct them, we must withal somewhat divert them:  we must seem to \nplay with them if we think to convey any sober thoughts into them.  \nThey scorn to be formally advised or taught; but they may perhaps be \nslily laughed and lured into a better mind.  If by such complaisance \nwe can inveigle those dottrels to hearken to us, we may induce them \nto consider farther, and give reason some competent scope, some fair \nplay with them.  Good reason may be apparelled in the garb of wit, \nand therein will securely pass whither in its native homeliness it \ncould never arrive:  and being come thither, it with especial \nadvantage may impress good advice, making an offender more clearly \nto see, and more deeply to feel his miscarriage; being represented \nto his fancy in a strain somewhat rare and remarkable, yet not so \nfierce and frightful.  The severity of reproof is tempered, and the \nreprover's anger disguised thereby.  The guilty person cannot but \nobserve that he who thus reprehends him is not disturbed or out of \nhumour, and that he rather pitieth than hateth him; which breedeth a \nveneration to him, and imparteth no small efficacy to his wholesome \nsuggestions.  Such a reprehension, while it forceth a smile without, \ndoth work remorse within; while it seemeth to tickle the ear, doth \nsting the heart.  In fine, many whose foreheads are brazed and \nhearts steeled against all blame, are yet not of proof against \nderision; divers, who never will be reasoned, may be rallied in \nbetter order:  in which cases raillery, as an instrument of so \nimportant good, as a servant of the best charity, may be allowed.\n\n4.  Some errors likewise in this way may be most properly and most \nsuccessfully confuted; such as deserve not, and hardly can bear a \nserious and solid confutation.  He that will contest things \napparently decided by sense and experience, or who disavows clear \nprinciples of reason, approved by general consent and the common \nsense of men, what other hopeful way is there of proceeding with \nhim, than pleasantly to explode his conceits?  To dispute seriously \nwith him were trifling; to trifle with him is the proper course.  \nSince he rejecteth the grounds of reasoning, 'tis vain to be in \nearnest; what then remains but to jest with him?  To deal seriously \nwere to yield too much respect to such a baffler, and too much \nweight to his fancies; to raise the man too high in his courage and \nconceit; to make his pretences seem worthy the considering and \ncanvassing.  Briefly, perverse obstinacy is more easily quelled, \npetulant impudence is sooner dashed, sophistical captiousness is \nmore safely eluded, sceptical wantonness is more surely confounded \nin this than in the simple way of discourse.\n\n5.  This way is also commonly the best way of defence against unjust \nreproach and obloquy.  To yield to a slanderous reviler a serious \nreply, or to make a formal plea against his charge, doth seem to \nimply that we much consider or deeply resent it; whereas by pleasant \nreflection on it we signify the matter only deserves contempt, and \nthat we take ourselves unconcerned therein.  So easily without care \nor trouble may the brunts of malice be declined or repelled.\n\n6.  This may be allowed in way of counterbalancing and in compliance \nto the fashion of others.  It would be a disadvantage unto truth and \nvirtue if their defenders were barred from the use of this weapon, \nsince it is that especially whereby the patrons of error and vice do \nmaintain and propagate them.  They being destitute of good reason, \ndo usually recommend their absurd and pestilent notions by a \npleasantness of conceit and expression, bewitching the fancies of \nshallow hearers, and inveigling heedless persons to a liking of \nthem; and if, for reclaiming such people, the folly of those \nseducers may in like manner be displayed as ridiculous and odious, \nwhy should that advantage be refused?  It is wit that wageth the war \nagainst reason, against virtue, against religion; wit alone it is \nthat perverteth so many, and so greatly corrupteth the world.  It \nmay, therefore, be needful, in our warfare for those dearest \nconcerns, to sort the manner of our fighting with that of our \nadversaries, and with the same kind of arms to protect goodness, \nwhereby they do assail it.  If wit may happily serve under the \nbanner of truth and virtue, we may impress it for that service; and \ngood it were to rescue so worthy a faculty from so vile abuse.  It \nis the right of reason and piety to command that and all other \nendowments; folly and impiety do only usurp them.  Just and fit \ntherefore it is to wrest them out of so bad hands, to revoke them to \ntheir right use and duty.\n\nIt doth especially seem requisite to do it in this age, wherein \nplain reason is deemed a dull and heavy thing.  When the mental \nappetite of men is become like the corporal, and cannot relish any \nfood without some piquant sauce, so that people will rather starve \nthan live on solid fare; when substantial and sound discourse \nfindeth small attention or acceptance; in such a time, he that can, \nmay in complaisance, and for fashion's sake, vouchsafe to be \nfacetious; an ingenious vein coupled with an honest mind may be a \ngood talent; he shall employ wit commendably who by it can further \nthe interests of goodness, alluring men first to listen, then \ninducing them to consent unto its wholesome dictates and precepts.\n\nSince men are so irreclaimably disposed to mirth and laughter, it \nmay be well to set them in the right pin, to divert their humour \ninto the proper channel, that they may please themselves in deriding \nthings which deserve it, ceasing to laugh at that which requireth \nreverence or horror.\n\nIt may also be expedient to put the world out of conceit that all \nsober and good men are a sort of such lumpish or sour people that \nthey can utter nothing but flat and drowsy stuff, by showing them \nthat such persons, when they see cause, in condescension, can be as \nbrisk and smart as themselves; when they please, can speak \npleasantly and wittily, as well as gravely and judiciously.  This \nway at least, in respect to the various palates of men, may for \nvariety sake be sometimes attempted, when other means do fail; when \nmany strict and subtle arguings, many zealous declamations, many \nwholesome serious discourses have been spent, without effecting the \nextirpation of bad principles, or conversion of those who abet them; \nthis course may be tried, and some perhaps may be reclaimed thereby.\n\n7.  Furthermore, the warrantableness of this practice in some cases \nmay be inferred from a parity of reason, in this manner.  If it be \nlawful (as by the best authorities it plainly doth appear to be), in \nusing rhetorical schemes, poetical strains, involutions of sense in \nallegories, fables, parables, and riddles, to discoast from the \nplain and simple way of speech, why may not facetiousness, issuing \nfrom the same principles, directed to the same ends, serving to like \npurposes, be likewise used blamelessly?  If those exorbitancies of \nspeech may be accommodated to instill good doctrine into the head, \nto excite good passions in the heart, to illustrate and adorn the \ntruth, in a delightful and taking way, and facetious discourse be \nsometimes notoriously conducible to the same ends, why, they being \nretained, should it be rejected, especially considering how \ndifficult often it may be to distinguish those forms of discourse \nfrom this, or exactly to define the limits which sever rhetoric and \nraillery.  Some elegant figures and trophies of rhetoric (biting \nsarcasms, sly ironies, strong metaphors, lofty hyperboles, \nparonomasies, oxymorons, and the like, frequently used by the best \nspeakers, and not seldom even by sacred writers) do lie very near \nupon the confines of jocularity, and are not easily differenced from \nthose sallies of wit wherein the lepid way doth consist:  so that \nwere this wholly culpable, it would be matter of scruple whether one \nhath committed a fault or no when he meant only to play the orator \nor the poet; and hard surely it would be to find a judge who could \nprecisely set out the difference between a jest and a flourish.\n\n8.  I shall only add, that of old even the sagest and gravest \npersons (persons of most rigid and severe virtue) did much affect \nthis kind of discourse, and did apply it to noble purposes.  The \ngreat introducer of moral wisdom among the pagans did practise it so \nmuch (by it repressing the windy pride and fallacious vanity of \nsophisters in his time), that he thereby got the name of [Greek], \nthe droll; and the rest of those who pursued his design do, by \nnumberless stories and apophthegms recorded of them, appear well \nskilled and much delighted in this way.  Many great princes (as \nAugustus Caesar, for one, many of whose jests are extant in \nMacrobius), many grave statesmen (as Cicero particularly, who \ncomposed several books of jests), many famous captains (as Fabius, \nM. Cato the Censor, Scipio Africanus, Epaminondas, Themistocles, \nPhocion, and many others, whose witty sayings together with their \nmartial exploits are reported by historians), have pleased \nthemselves herein, and made it a condiment of their weighty \nbusinesses.  So that practising thus (within certain rule and \ncompass), we cannot err without great patterns, and mighty patrons.\n\n9.  In fine, since it cannot be shown that such a sportfulness of \nwit and fancy doth contain an intrinsic and inseparable turpitude; \nsince it may be so cleanly, handsomely, and innocently used, as not \nto defile or discompose the mind of the speaker, nor to wrong or \nharm the hearer, nor to derogate from any worthy subject of \ndiscourse, nor to infringe decency, to disturb peace, to violate any \nof the grand duties incumbent on us (piety, charity, justice, \nsobriety), but rather sometimes may yield advantage in those \nrespects; it cannot well absolutely and universally be condemned:  \nand when not used upon improper matter, in an unfit manner, with \nexcessive measure, at undue season, to evil purpose, it may be \nallowed.  It is bad objects, or bad adjuncts, which do spoil its \nindifference and innocence; it is the abuse thereof, to which (as \nall pleasant things are dangerous, and apt to degenerate into baits \nof intemperance and excess) it is very liable, that corrupteth it; \nand seemeth to be the ground why in so general terms it is \nprohibited by the Apostle.  Which prohibition to what cases, or what \nsorts of jesting it extendeth, we come now to declare.\n\n\nII.  1.  All profane jesting, all speaking loosely and wantonly \nabout holy things (things nearly related to God and religion), \nmaking such things the matters of sport and mockery, playing and \ntrifling with them, is certainly prohibited, as an intolerably vain \nand wicked practice.  It is an infallible sign of a vain and light \nspirit, which considereth little, and cannot distinguish things, to \ntalk slightly concerning persons of high dignity, to whom especial \nrespect is due; or about matters of great importance, which deserve \nvery serious consideration.  No man speaketh, or should speak, of \nhis prince, that which he hath not weighed whether it will consist \nwith that veneration which should be preserved inviolate to him.  \nAnd is not the same, is not much greater care to be used in regard \nto the incomparably great and glorious Majesty of Heaven?  Yes, \nsurely, as we should not without great awe think of Him; so we \nshould not presume to mention His name, His word, His institutions, \nanything immediately belonging to Him, without profoundest reverence \nand dread.  It is the most enormous sauciness that can be imagined, \nto speak petulantly or pertly concerning Him; especially considering \nthat whatever we do say about Him, we do utter it in His presence, \nand to His very face.  \"For there is not,\" as the holy psalmist \nconsidered, \"a word in my tongue, but lo, O Lord, thou knowest it \naltogether.\"  No man also hath the heart to droll, or thinks \nraillery convenient, in cases nearly touching his life, his health, \nhis estate, or his fame:  and are the true life and health of our \nsoul, are interests in God's favour and mercy, are everlasting glory \nand bliss affairs of less moment? are the treasures and joys of \nparadise, or the damages and torments in hell, more jesting matters?  \nNo, certainly no:  in all reason therefore it becometh us, and it \ninfinitely concerneth us, whenever we think of these things, to be \nin best earnest, always to speak of them in most sober sadness.\n\nThe proper objects of common mirth and sportful divertisement are \nmean and petty matters; anything at least is by playing therewith \nmade such:  great things are thereby diminished and debased; \nespecially sacred things do grievously suffer thence, being with \nextreme indecency and indignity depressed beneath themselves, when \nthey become the subjects of flashy wit, or the entertainments of \nfrothy merriment:  to sacrifice their honour to our vain pleasure, \nbeing like the ridiculous fondness of that people which, as AElian \nreporteth, worshipping a fly, did offer up an ox thereto.  These \nthings were by God instituted, and proposed to us for purposes quite \ndifferent; to compose our hearts, and settle our fancies in a most \nserious frame; to breed inward satisfaction, and joy purely \nspiritual; to exercise our most solemn thoughts, and employ our \ngravest discourses:  all our speech therefore about them should be \nwholesome, apt to afford good instruction, or to excite good \naffections; \"good,\" as St. Paul speaketh, \"for the use of edifying, \nthat it may minister grace unto the hearers.\"\n\nIf we must be facetious and merry, the field is wide and spacious; \nthere are matters enough in the world besides these most august and \ndreadful things, to try our faculties and please our humour with; \neverywhere light and ludicrous things occur; it therefore doth argue \na marvellous poverty of wit, and barrenness of invention (no less \nthan a strange defect of goodness, and want of discretion), in those \nwho can devise no other subjects to frolic upon besides these, of \nall most improper and perilous; who cannot seem ingenious under the \ncharge of so highly trespassing upon decency, disclaiming wisdom, \nwounding the ears of others, and their own consciences.  Seem \ningenious, I say; for seldom those persons really are such, or are \ncapable to discover any wit in a wise and manly way.  'Tis not the \nexcellency of their fancies, which in themselves are usually sorry \nand insipid enough, but the uncouthness of their presumption; not \ntheir extraordinary wit, but their prodigious rashness, which is to \nbe admired.  They are gazed on, as the doers of bold tricks, who \ndare perform that which no sober man will attempt:  they do indeed \nrather deserve themselves to be laughed at, than their conceits.  \nFor what can be more ridiculous than we do make ourselves, when we \nthus fiddle and fool with our own souls; when, to make vain people \nmerry, we incense God's earnest displeasure; when, to raise a fit of \npresent laughter, we expose ourselves to endless wailing and woe; \nwhen, to be reckoned wits, we prove ourselves stark wild?  Surely to \nthis case we may accommodate that of a truly great wit, King \nSolomon:  \"I said of laughter, It is mad; and of mirth, What doeth \nit?\"\n\n2.  All injurious, abusive, scurrilous jesting, which causelessly or \nneedlessly tendeth to the disgrace, damage, vexation, or prejudice \nin any kind of our neighbour (provoking his displeasure, grating on \nhis modesty, stirring passion in him), is also prohibited.  When \nmen, to raise an admiration of their wit, to please themselves, or \ngratify the humours of other men, do expose their neighbour to scorn \nand contempt, making ignominious reflections upon his person and his \nactions, taunting his real imperfections, or fastening imaginary \nones upon him, they transgress their duty, and abuse their wits; \n'tis not urbanity, or genuine facetiousness, but uncivil rudeness or \nvile malignity.  To do thus, as it is the office of mean and base \nspirits (unfit for any worthy or weighty employments), so it is full \nof inhumanity, of iniquity, of indecency and folly.  For the \nweaknesses of men, of what kind soever (natural or moral, in quality \nor in act), considering whence they spring, and how much we are all \nsubject to them, and do need excuse for them, do in equity challenge \ncompassion to be had of them; not complacency to be taken in them, \nor mirth drawn from them; they, in respect to common humanity, \nshould rather be studiously connived at, and concealed, or mildly \nexcused, than wilfully laid open, and wantonly descanted upon; they \nrather are to be deplored secretly, than openly derided.\n\nThe reputation of men is too noble a sacrifice to be offered up to \nvainglory, fond pleasure, or ill-humour; it is a good far more dear \nand precious, than to be prostituted for idle sport and \ndivertisement.  It becometh us not to trifle with that which in \ncommon estimation is of so great moment--to play rudely with a thing \nso very brittle, yet of so vast price; which being once broken or \ncracked, it is very hard and scarce possible to repair.  A small, \ntransient pleasure, a tickling the ears, wagging the lungs, forming \nthe face into a smile, a giggle, or a hum, are not to be purchased \nwith the grievous distaste and smart, perhaps with the real damage \nand mischief of our neighbour, which attend upon contempt.  This is \nnot jesting, surely, but bad earnest; 'tis wild mirth, which is the \nmother of grief to those whom we should tenderly love; 'tis \nunnatural sport, which breedeth displeasure in them whose delight it \nshould promote, whose liking it should procure:  it crosseth the \nnature and design of this way of speaking, which is to cement and \ningratiate society, to render conversation pleasant and sprightly, \nfor mutual satisfaction and comfort.\n\nTrue festivity is called salt, and such it should be, giving a smart \nbut savoury relish to discourse; exciting an appetite, not \nirritating disgust; cleansing sometimes, but never creating a sore:  \nand [Greek], (if it become thus insipid), or unsavoury, it is \ntherefore good for nothing, but to be cast out, and trodden under \nfoot of men.  Such jesting which doth not season wholesome or \nharmless discourse, but giveth a haut gout to putrid and poisonous \nstuff, gratifying distempered palates and corrupt stomachs, is \nindeed odious and despicable folly, to be cast out with loathing, to \nbe trodden under foot with contempt.  If a man offends in this sort, \nto please himself, 'tis scurvy malignity; if to delight others, 'tis \nbase servility and flattery:  upon the first score he is a buffoon \nto himself; upon the last, a fool to others.  And well in common \nspeech are such practisers so termed, the grounds of that practice \nbeing so vain, and the effect so unhappy.  The heart of fools, saith \nthe wise man, is in the house of mirth; meaning, it seems, \nespecially such hurtfully wanton mirth:  for it is (as he further \ntelleth us) the property of fools to delight in doing harm (\"It is \nas sport to a fool to do mischief\").  Is it not in earnest most \npalpable folly, for so mean ends to do so great harm; to disoblige \nmen in sport; to lose friends and get enemies for a conceit; out of \na light humour to provoke fierce wrath, and breed tough hatred; to \nengage one's self consequently very far in strife, danger, and \ntrouble?  No way certainly is more apt to produce such effects than \nthis; nothing more speedily inflameth, or more thoroughly engageth \nmen, or sticketh longer in men's hearts and memories, than bitter \ntaunts and scoffs:  whence this honey soon turns into gall; these \njolly comedies do commonly terminate in woeful tragedies.\n\nEspecially this scurrilous and scoffing way is then most detestable \nwhen it not only exposeth the blemishes and infirmities of men, but \nabuseth piety and virtue themselves; flouting persons for their \nconstancy in devotion, or their strict adherence to a conscientious \npractice of duty; aiming to effect that which Job complaineth of, \n\"The just upright man is laughed to scorn;\" resembling those whom \nthe psalmist thus describeth, \"Who whet their tongue like a sword, \nand bend their arrows, even bitter words, that they may shoot in \nsecret at the perfect;\" serving good men as Jeremy was served--\"The \nword of the Lord,\" saith he, \"was made a reproach unto me, and a \nderision daily.\"\n\nThis practice doth evidently in the highest degree tend to the \ndisparagement and discouragement of goodness; aiming to expose it, \nand to render men ashamed thereof; and it manifestly proceedeth from \na desperate corruption of mind, from a mind hardened and emboldened, \nsold and enslaved to wickedness:  whence they who deal therein are \nin Holy Scripture represented as egregious sinners, or persons \nsuperlatively wicked, under the name of scorners ([Greek], pests, or \npestilent men, the Greek translators call them, properly enough in \nregard to the effects of their practice); concerning whom the wise \nman (signifying how God will meet with them in their own way) saith, \n\"Surely the Lord scorneth the scorners.\"  '[Greek] (scoffers, or \nmockers), St. Peter termeth them, who walk according to their own \nlusts; who not being willing to practise, are ready to deride \nvirtue; thereby striving to seduce others into their pernicious \ncourses.\n\nThis offence also proportionably groweth more criminal as it \npresumeth to reach persons eminent in dignity or worth, unto whom \nspecial veneration is appropriate.  This adjoineth sauciness to \nscurrility, and advanceth the wrong thereof into a kind of \nsacrilege.  'Tis not only injustice, but profaneness, to abuse the \ngods.  Their station is a sanctuary from all irreverence and \nreproach; they are seated on high, that we may only look up to them \nwith respect; their defects are not to be seen, or not to be touched \nby malicious or wanton wits, by spiteful or scornful tongues:  the \ndiminution of their credit is a public mischief, and the State \nitself doth suffer in their becoming objects of scorn; not only \nthemselves are vilified and degraded, but the great affairs they \nmanage are obstructed, the justice they administer is disparaged \nthereby.\n\nIn fine, no jesting is allowable which is not thoroughly innocent:  \nit is an unworthy perverting of wit to employ it in biting and \nscratching; in working prejudice to any man's reputation or \ninterest; in needlessly incensing any man's anger or sorrow; in \nraising animosities, dissensions, and feuds among any.\n\nWhence it is somewhat strange that any men from so mean and silly a \npractice should expect commendation, or that any should afford \nregard thereto; the which it is so far from meriting, that indeed \ncontempt and abhorrence are due to it.  Men do truly more render \nthemselves despicable than others when, without just ground, or \nreasonable occasion, they do attack others in this way.  That such a \npractice doth ever find any encouragement or acceptance, whence can \nit proceed, but from the bad nature and small judgment of some \npersons?  For to any man who is endowed with any sense of goodness, \nand hath a competence of true wit, or a right knowledge of good \nmanners (who knows. . . . inurbanum lepido seponere dicto), it \ncannot but be unsavoury and loathsome.  The repute it obtaineth is \nin all respects unjust.  So would it appear, not only were the cause \nto be decided in a court of morality, because it consists not with \nvirtue and wisdom; but even before any competent judges of wit \nitself.  For he overthrows his own pretence, and cannot reasonably \nclaim any interest in wit, who doth thus behave himself:  he \nprejudgeth himself to want wit, who cannot descry fit matter to \ndivert himself or others:  he discovereth a great straitness and \nsterility of good invention, who cannot in all the wide field of \nthings find better subjects of discourse; who knows not how to be \ningenious within reasonable compass, but to pick up a sorry conceit \nis forced to make excursions beyond the bounds of honesty and \ndecency.\n\nNeither is it any argument of considerable ability in him that haps \nto please this way:  a slender faculty will serve the turn.  The \nsharpness of his speech cometh not from wit so much as from choler, \nwhich furnisheth the lowest inventions with a kind of pungent \nexpression, and giveth an edge to every spiteful word:  so that any \ndull wretch doth seem to scold eloquently and ingeniously.  Commonly \nalso satirical taunts do owe their seeming piquancy, not to the \nspeaker or his words, but to the subject, and the hearers; the \nmatter conspiring with the bad nature or the vanity of men who love \nto laugh at any rate, and to be pleased at the expense of other \nmen's repute; conceiting themselves extolled by the depression of \ntheir neighbour, and hoping to gain by his loss.  Such customers \nthey are that maintain the bitter wits, who otherwise would want \ntrade, and might go a-begging.  For commonly they who seem to excel \nthis way are miserably flat in other discourse, and most dully \nserious:  they have a particular unaptness to describe any good \nthing, or commend any worthy person; being destitute of right ideas, \nand proper terms answerable to such purposes:  their representations \nof that kind are absurd and unhandsome; their eulogies (to use their \nown way of speaking) are in effect satires, and they can hardly more \nabuse a man than by attempting to commend him; like those in the \nprophet, who were wise to do ill, but to do well had no knowledge.\n\n3.  I pass by that it is very culpable to be facetious in obscene \nand smutty matters.  Such things are not to be discoursed on either \nin jest or in earnest; they must not, as St. Paul saith, be so much \nas named among Christians.  To meddle with them is not to disport, \nbut to defile one's self and others.  There is indeed no more \ncertain sign of a mind utterly debauched from piety and virtue than \nby affecting such talk.  But further--\n\n4.  All unseasonable jesting is blamable.  As there are some proper \nseasons of relaxation, when we may desipere in loco; so there are \nsome times, and circumstances of things, wherein it concerneth and \nbecometh men to be serious in mind, grave in demeanour, and plain in \ndiscourse; when to sport in this way is to do indecently or \nuncivilly, to be impertinent or troublesome.\n\nIt comporteth not well with the presence of superiors, before whom \nit becometh us to be composed and modest, much less with the \nperformance of sacred offices, which require an earnest attention, \nand most serious frame of mind.\n\nIn deliberations and debates about affairs of great importance, the \nsimple manner of speaking to the point is the proper, easy, clear, \nand compendious way:  facetious speech there serves only to obstruct \nand entangle business, to lose time, and protract the result.  The \nshop and exchange will scarce endure jesting in their lower \ntransactions:  the Senate, the Court of Justice, the Church do much \nmore exclude it from their more weighty consultations.  Whenever it \njustleth out, or hindereth the despatch of other serious business, \ntaking up the room or swallowing the time due to it, or indisposing \nthe minds of the audience to attend it, then it is unseasonable and \npestilent.  [Greek] (to play, that we may be seriously busy), is the \ngood rule (of Anacharsis), implying the subordination of sport to \nbusiness, as a condiment and furtherance, not an impediment or clog \nthereto.  He that for his sport neglects his business, deserves \nindeed to be reckoned among children; and children's fortune will \nattend him, to be pleased with toys, and to fail of substantial \nprofit.\n\n'Tis again improper (because indeed uncivil, and inhuman) to jest \nwith persons that are in a sad or afflicted condition; as arguing \nwant of due considering or due commiserating their case.  It appears \na kind of insulting upon their misfortune, and is apt to foment \ntheir grief.  Even in our own case (upon any disastrous occurrence \nto ourselves), it would not be seemly to frolic it thus; it would \nsignify want of due regard to the frowns of God, and the strokes of \nHis hand; it would cross the wise man's advice, \"In the day of \nprosperity be joyful, but in the day of adversity consider.\"\n\nIt is also not seasonable, or civil, to be jocund in this way with \nthose who desire to be serious, and like not the humour.  Jocularity \nshould not be forcibly obtruded, but by a kindly conspiracy (or \ntacit compact) slip into conversation; consent and complaisance give \nall the life thereto.  Its design is to sweeten and ease society; \nwhen to the contrary it breedeth offence or encumbrance, it is worse \nthan vain and unprofitable.  From these instances we may collect \nwhen in other like cases it is unseasonable, and therefore culpable.  \nFurther--\n\n5.  To affect, admire, or highly to value this way of speaking \n(either absolutely in itself, or in comparison to the serious and \nplain way of speech), and thence to be drawn into an immoderate use \nthereof, is blamable.  A man of ripe age and sound judgment, for \nrefreshment to himself, or in complaisance to others, may sometimes \ncondescend to play in this, or any other harmless way; but to be \nfond of it, to prosecute it with a careful or painful eagerness, to \ndote and dwell upon it, to reckon it a brave or a fine thing, a \nsingular matter of commendation, a transcendent accomplishment, \nanywise preferable to rational endowments, or comparable to the \nmoral excellencies of our mind (to solid knowledge, or sound wisdom, \nor true virtue and goodness), this is extremely childish, or \nbrutish, and far below a man.  What can be more absurd than to make \nbusiness of play, to be studious and laborious in toys, to make a \nprofession or drive a trade of impertinency?  What more plain \nnonsense can there be, than to be earnest in jest, to be continual \nin divertisement, or constant in pastime; to make extravagance all \nour way, and sauce all our diet?  Is not this plainly the life of a \nchild that is ever busy, yet never hath anything to do?  Or the life \nof that mimical brute which is always active in playing uncouth and \nunlucky tricks; which, could it speak, might surely pass well for a \nprofessed wit?\n\nThe proper work of man, the grand drift of human life, is to follow \nreason (that noble spark kindled from Heaven; that princely and \npowerful faculty, which is able to reach so lofty objects, and \nachieve so mighty works), not to soothe fancy, that brutish, shallow \nand giddy power, able to perform nothing worthy much regard.  We are \nnot (even Cicero could tell us) born for play and jesting, but for \nseverity, and the study of graver and greater affairs.  Yes, we were \npurposely designed, and fitly framed, to understand and contemplate, \nto affect and delight in, to undertake and pursue most noble and \nworthy things; to be employed in business considerably profitable to \nourselves, and beneficial to others.  We do therefore strangely \ndebase ourselves, when we do strongly bend our minds to, or set our \naffections upon, such toys.\n\nEspecially to do so is unworthy of a Christian; that is, of a person \nwho is advanced to so high a rank, and so glorious relations; who \nhath so excellent objects of his mind and affections presented \nbefore him, and so excellent rewards for his care and pains proposed \nto him; who is engaged in affairs of so worthy nature, and so \nimmense consequence:  for him to be zealous about quibbles, for him \nto be ravished with puny conceits and expressions, 'tis a wondrous \noversight, and an enormous indecency.\n\nHe indeed that prefers any faculty to reason, disclaims the \nprivilege of being a man, and understands not the worth of his own \nnature; he that prizes any quality beyond virtue and goodness, \nrenounces the title of a Christian, and knows not how to value the \ndignity of his profession.  It is these two (reason and virtue) in \nconjunction which produce all that is considerably good and great in \nthe world.  Fancy can do little; doth never anything well, except as \ndirected and wielded by them.  Do pretty conceits or humorous talk \ncarry on any business, or perform any work?  No; they are \nineffectual and fruitless:  often they disturb, but they never \ndespatch anything with good success.  It is simple reason (as dull \nand dry as it seemeth) which expediteth all the grand affairs, which \naccomplisheth all the mighty works that we see done in the world.  \nIn truth, therefore, as one diamond is worth numberless bits of \nglass; so one solid reason is worth innumerable fancies:  one grain \nof true science and sound wisdom in real worth and use doth outweigh \nloads (if any loads can be) of freakish wit.  To rate things \notherwise doth argue great weakness of judgment, and fondness of \nmind.  So to conceit of this way signifieth a weak mind; and much to \ndelight therein rendereth it so--nothing more debaseth the spirit of \na man, or more rendereth it light and trifling.\n\nHence if we must be venting pleasant conceits, we should do it as if \nwe did it not, carelessly and unconcernedly; not standing upon it, \nor valuing ourselves for it:  we should do it with measure and \nmoderation; not giving up ourselves thereto, so as to mind it or \ndelight in it more than in any other thing:  we should not be so \nintent upon it as to become remiss in affairs more proper or needful \nfor us; so as to nauseate serious business, or disrelish the more \nworthy entertainments of our minds.  This is the great danger of it, \nwhich we daily see men to incur; they are so bewitched with a humour \nof being witty themselves, or of hearkening to the fancies of \nothers, that it is this only which they can like or favour, which \nthey can endure to think or talk of.  'Tis a great pity that men who \nwould seem to have so much wit, should so little understand \nthemselves.  But further--\n\n6.  Vainglorious ostentation this way is very blamable.  All \nambition, all vanity, all conceitedness, upon whatever ground they \nare founded, are absolutely unreasonable and silly; but yet those \nbeing grounded on some real ability, or some useful skill, are wise \nand manly in comparison to this, which standeth on a foundation so \nmanifestly slight and weak.  The old philosophers by a severe father \nwere called animalia gloriae (animals of glory), and by a satirical \npoet they were termed bladders of vanity; but they at least did \ncatch at praise from praiseworthy knowledge; they were puffed up \nwith a wind which blew some good to mankind; they sought glory from \nthat which deserved glory if they had not sought it; it was a \nsubstantial and solid credit which they did affect, resulting from \nsuccessful enterprises of strong reason, and stout industry:  but \nthese animalculae gloriae, these flies, these insects of glory, \nthese, not bladders, but bubbles of vanity, would be admired and \npraised for that which is nowise admirable or laudable; for the \ncasual hits and emergencies of roving fancy; for stumbling on an odd \nconceit or phrase, which signifieth nothing, and is as superficial \nas the smile, as hollow as the noise it causeth.  Nothing certainly \nin nature is more ridiculous than a self-conceited wit, who deemeth \nhimself somebody, and greatly pretendeth to commendation from so \npitiful and worthless a thing as a knack of trifling.\n\n7.  Lastly, it is our duty never so far to engage ourselves in this \nway as thereby to lose or to impair that habitual seriousness, \nmodesty and sobriety of mind, that steady composedness, gravity and \nconstancy of demeanour, which become Christians.  We should \ncontinually keep our minds intent upon our high calling, and grand \ninterests; ever well tuned, and ready for the performance of holy \ndevotions, and the practice of most serious duties with earnest \nattention and fervent affection.  Wherefore we should never suffer \nthem to be dissolved into levity, or disordered into a wanton frame, \nindisposing us for religious thoughts and actions.  We ought always \nin our behaviour to maintain, not only [Greek] (a fitting decency), \nbut also [Greek] (a stately gravity), a kind of venerable majesty, \nsuitable to that high rank which we bear of God's friends and \nchildren; adorning our holy profession, and guarding us from all \nimpressions of sinful vanity.  Wherefore we should not let ourselves \nbe transported into any excessive pitch of lightness, inconsistent \nwith or prejudicial to our Christian state and business.  Gravity \nand modesty are the senses of piety, which being once slighted, sin \nwill easily attempt and encroach upon us.  So the old Spanish \ngentleman may be interpreted to have been wise who, when his son \nupon a voyage to the Indies took his leave of him, gave him this odd \nadvice, \"My son, in the first place keep thy gravity, in the next \nplace fear God;\" intimating that a man must first be serious, before \nhe can be pious.\n\nTo conclude, as we need not be demure, so must we not be impudent; \nas we should not be sour, so ought we not to be fond; as we may be \nfree, so we should not be vain; as we may well stoop to friendly \ncomplaisance, so we should take heed of falling into contemptible \nlevity.  If without wronging others, or derogating from ourselves, \nwe can be facetious, if we can use our wits in jesting innocently, \nand conveniently, we may sometimes do it:  but let us, in compliance \nwith St. Paul's direction, beware of \"foolish talking and jesting \nwhich are not convenient.\"\n\n\"Now the God of grace and peace . . . . make us perfect in every \ngood work to do His will, working in us that which is well pleasing \nin His sight, through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory for ever and \never.  Amen.\"\n\n\n\nAGAINST RASH AND VAIN SWEARING.\n\n\n\n\"But above all things, my brethren, swear not.\"\n                               St. James v. 12.\n\nAmong other precepts of good life (directing the practice of virtue \nand abstinence from sin) St. James doth insert this about swearing, \ncouched in expression denoting his great earnestness, and apt to \nexcite our special attention.  Therein he doth not mean universally \nto interdict the use of oaths, for that in some cases is not only \nlawful, but very expedient, yea, needful, and required from us as a \nduty; but that swearing which our Lord had expressly prohibited to \nHis disciples, and which thence, questionless, the brethren to whom \nSt. James did write did well understand themselves obliged to \nforbear, having learned so in the first catechisms of Christian \ninstitution; that is, needless and heedless swearing in ordinary \nconversation, a practice then frequent in the world, both among Jews \nand Gentiles; the which also, to the shame of our age, is now so \nmuch in fashion, and with some men in vogue; the invoking God's \nname, appealing to His testimony, and provoking His judgment upon \nany slight occasion, in common talk, with vain incogitancy, or \nprofane boldness.  From such practice the Holy Apostle exhorteth in \nterms importing his great concernedness, and implying the matter to \nbe of highest importance; for, [Greek], saith he, \"(Before all \nthings), my brethren, do not swear;\" as if he did apprehend this sin \nof all others to be one of the most heinous and pernicious.  Could \nhe have said more? would he have said so much, if he had not \nconceived the matter to be of exceeding weight and consequence?  And \nthat it is so, I mean now, by God's help, to show you, by proposing \nsome considerations, whereby the heinous wickedness, together with \nthe monstrous folly, of such rash and vain swearing will appear; the \nwhich being laid to heart will, I hope, effectually dissuade and \ndeter from it.\n\n\nI.  Let us consider the nature of an oath, and what we do when we \nadventure to swear.\n\nIt is (as it is phrased in the Decalogue, and elsewhere in Holy \nScripture) an assuming the name of God, and applying it to our \npurpose; to countenance and confirm what we say.\n\nIt is an invocation of God as a most faithful Witness, concerning \nthe truth of our words, or the sincerity of our meaning.\n\nIt is an appeal to God as a most upright Judge whether we do \nprevaricate in asserting what we do not believe true, or in \npromising what we are not firmly resolved to perform.\n\nIt is a formal engagement of God to be the Avenger of our \ntrespassing in violation of truth or faith.\n\nIt is a binding our souls with a most strict and solemn obligation, \nto answer before God, and to undergo the issue of His judgment about \nwhat we affirm or undertake.\n\nSuch an oath is represented to us in Holy Scripture.\n\nWhence we may collect, that swearing doth require great modesty and \ncomposedness of spirit, very serious consideration and solicitous \ncare, that we be not rude and saucy with God, in taking up His name, \nand prostituting it to vile or mean uses; that we do not abuse or \ndebase His authority, by citing it to aver falsehoods or \nimpertinences; that we do not slight His venerable justice, by \nrashly provoking it against us; that we do not precipitately throw \nour souls into most dangerous snares and intricacies.\n\nFor let us reflect and consider:  What a presumption is it without \ndue regard and reverence to lay hold on God's name; with unhallowed \nbreath to vent and toss that great and glorious, that most holy, \nthat reverend, that fearful and terrible name of the Lord our God, \nthe great Creator, the mighty Sovereign, the dreadful Judge of all \nthe world; that name which all heaven with profoundest submission \ndoth adore, which the angelical powers, the brightest and purest \nSeraphim, without hiding their faces, and reverential horror, cannot \nutter or hear; the very thought whereof should strike awe through \nour hearts, the mention whereof would make any sober man to tremble?  \n[Greek], \"For how,\" saith St. Chrysostom, \"is it not absurd that a \nservant should not dare to call his master by name, or bluntly and \nordinarily to mention him, yet that we slightly and contemptuously \nshould in our mouth toss about the Lord of angels?\n\n\"How is it not absurd, if we have a garment better than the rest, \nthat we forbear to use it continually, but in the most slight and \ncommon way do wear the name of God?\"\n\nHow grievous indecency is it, at every turn to summon our Maker, and \ncall down Almighty God from heaven, to attend our leisure, to vouch \nour idle prattle, to second our giddy passions, to concern His \ntruth, His justice, His power in our trivial affairs!\n\nWhat a wildness is it, to dally with that judgment upon which the \neternal doom of all creatures dependeth, at which the pillars of \nheaven are astonished, which hurled down legions of angels from the \ntop of heaven and happiness into the bottomless dungeon:  the which, \nas grievous sinners, of all things we have most reason to dread; and \nabout which no sober man can otherwise think than did that great \nking, the holy psalmist, who said, \"My flesh trembleth for Thee, and \nI am afraid of Thy judgments!\"\n\nHow prodigious a madness is it, without any constraint or needful \ncause, to incur so horrible a danger, to rush upon a curse; to defy \nthat vengeance, the least touch of breath whereof can dash us to \nnothing, or thrust us down into extreme and endless woe?\n\nWho can express the wretchedness of that folly, which so entangleth \nus with inextricable knots, and enchaineth our souls so rashly with \ndesperate obligations?\n\nWherefore he that would but a little mind what he doeth when he \ndareth to swear, what it is to meddle with the adorable name, the \nvenerable testimony, the formidable judgment, the terrible vengeance \nof the Divine Majesty, into what a case he putteth himself, how \nextreme hazard he runneth thereby, would assuredly have little heart \nto swear, without greatest reason, and most urgent need; hardly \nwithout trembling would he undertake the most necessary and solemn \noath; much cause would he see [Greek], to adore, to fear an oath:  \nwhich to do, the divine preacher maketh the character of a good man.  \n\"As,\" saith he, \"is the good, so is the sinner; and he that \nsweareth, as he that feareth an oath.\"\n\nIn fine, even a heathen philosopher, considering the nature of an \noath, did conclude the unlawfulness thereof in such cases.  For, \n\"seeing,\" saith he, \"an oath doth call God for witness, and \nproposeth Him for umpire and voucher of the things it saith; \ntherefore to induce God so upon occasion of human affairs, or, which \nis all one, upon small and slight accounts, doth imply contempt of \nHim:  wherefore we ought wholly to shun swearing, except upon \noccasions of highest necessity.\"\n\n\nII.  We may consider that swearing, agreeably to its nature, or \nnatural aptitude and tendency, is represented in Holy Scripture as a \nspecial part of religious worship, or devotion towards God; in the \ndue performance whereof we do avow Him for the true God and Governor \nof the world; we piously do acknowledge His principal attributes and \nspecial prerogatives; His omnipresence and omniscience, extending \nitself to our most inward thoughts, our secretest purposes, our \nclosest retirements; His watchful providence over all our actions, \naffairs, and concerns; His faithful goodness, in favouring truth and \nprotecting right; His exact justice, in patronising sincerity, and \nchastising perfidiousness; His being Supreme Lord over all persons, \nand Judge paramount in all causes; His readiness in our need, upon \nour humble imploration and reference, to undertake the arbitration \nof matters controverted, and the care of administering justice, for \nthe maintenance of truth and right, of loyalty and fidelity, of \norder and peace among men.  Swearing does also intimate a pious \ntruth and confidence in God, as Aristotle observeth.\n\nSuch things a serious oath doth imply, to such purposes swearing \nnaturally serveth; and therefore to signify or effectuate them, \nDivine institution hath devoted it.\n\nGod in goodness to such ends hath pleased to lend us His great name; \nallowing us to cite Him for a witness, to have recourse to His bar, \nto engage His justice and power, whenever the case deserveth and \nrequireth it, or when we cannot by other means well assure the \nsincerity of our meaning, or secure the constancy of our \nresolutions.\n\nYea, in such exigencies He doth exact this practice from us, as an \ninstance of our religious confidence in Him, and as a service \nconducible to His glory.  For it is a precept in His law, of moral \nnature, and eternal obligation, \"Thou shalt fear the Lord thy God; \nHim shalt thou serve, and to Him shalt thou cleave, and shalt swear \nby His name.\"  It is the character of a religious man to swear with \ndue reverence and upright conscience.  For, \"The king,\" saith the \npsalmist, \"shall rejoice in God; every one that sweareth by Him \nshall glory:  but the mouth of them that speak lies shall be \nstopped.\"  It is a distinctive mark of God's people, according to \nthat of the prophet Jeremy, \"And it shall come to pass, if they will \ndiligently learn the ways of my people, to swear by my name . . . \nthen shall they be built in the midst of my people.\"  It is \npredicted concerning the evangelical times, \"Unto Me every knee \nshall bow, every tongue shall swear:\" and, \"That he who blesseth \nhimself in the earth, shall bless himself by the God of Truth; and \nhe that sweareth in the earth, shall swear by the God of Truth.\"\n\nAs therefore all other acts of devotion, wherein immediate \napplication is made to the Divine Majesty, should never be performed \nwithout most hearty intention, most serious consideration, most \nlowly reverence; so neither should this grand one, wherein God is so \nnearly touched, and His chief attributes so much concerned:  the \nwhich indeed doth involve both prayer and praise, doth require the \nmost devotional acts of faith and fear.\n\nWe therefore should so perform it as not to incur that reproof:  \n\"This people draweth nigh unto me with their mouth, and honoureth me \nwith their lips, but their heart is far from me.\"\n\nWhen we seem most formally to avow God, to confess His omniscience, \nto confide in His justice, we should not really disregard Him, and \nin effect signify that we do not think He doth know what we say, or \nwhat we do.\n\nIf we do presume to offer this service, we should do it in the \nmanner appointed by himself, according to the conditions prescribed \nin the prophet, \"Thou shalt swear, the Lord liveth, in truth, in \njudgment, and in righteousness:\" in truth, taking heed that our \nmeaning be conformable to the sense of our words, and our words to \nthe verity of things; in judgment, having with careful deliberation \nexamined and weighed that which we assert or promise; in \nrighteousness, being satisfied in conscience that we do not therein \ninfringe any rule of piety toward God, of equity toward men, or \nsobriety and discretion in regard to ourselves.\n\nThe cause of our swearing must be needful, or very expedient; the \ndesign of it must be honest and useful to considerable purposes \n(tending to God's honour, our neighbour's benefit, our own welfare); \nthe matter of it should be not only just and lawful, but worthy and \nweighty; the manner ought to be grave and solemn, our mind being \nframed to earnest attention, and endued with pious affections \nsuitable to the occasion.\n\nOtherwise, if we do venture to swear, without due advice and care, \nwithout much respect and awe, upon any slight or vain (not to say \nbad or unlawful) occasion, we then desecrate swearing, and are \nguilty of profaning a most sacred ordinance:  the doing so doth \nimply base hypocrisy, or lewd mockery, or abominable wantonness and \nfolly; in bodily invading and vainly trifling with the most august \nduties of religion.  Such swearing therefore is very dishonourable \nand injurious to God, very prejudicial to religion, very repugnant \nto piety.\n\n\nIII.  We may consider that the swearing prohibited is very noxious \nto human society.\n\nThe great prop of society (which upholdeth the safety, peace, and \nwelfare thereof, in observing laws, dispensing justice, discharging \ntrusts, keeping contracts, and holding good correspondence mutually) \nis conscience, or a sense of duty toward God, obliging to perform \nthat which is right and equal; quickened by hope of rewards and fear \nof punishments from Him:  secluding which principle, no worldly \nconfederation is strong enough to hold men fast, or can further \ndispose many to do right, or observe faith, or hold peace, than \nappetite or interest, or humour (things very slippery and uncertain) \ndo sway them.\n\nThat men should live honestly, quietly, and comfortably together, it \nis needful that they should live under a sense of God's will, and in \nawe of the divine power, hoping to please God, and fearing to offend \nHim, by their behaviour respectively.\n\nThat justice should be administered between men, it is necessary \nthat testimonies of fact be alleged; and that witnesses should \napprehend themselves greatly obliged to discover the truth, \naccording to their conscience, in dark and doubtful cases.\n\nThat men should uprightly discharge offices serviceable to public \ngood, it doth behove that they be firmly engaged to perform the \ntrusts reposed in them.\n\nThat in affairs of very considerable importance men should deal with \none another with satisfaction of mind, and mutual confidence, they \nmust receive competent assurances concerning the integrity, \nfidelity, and constancy each of other.\n\nThat the safety of governors may be preserved, and the obedience due \nto them maintained secure from attempts to which they are liable (by \nthe treachery, levity, perverseness, timorousness, ambition, all \nsuch lusts and ill humours of men), it is expedient that men should \nbe tied with the strictest bands of allegiance.\n\nThat controversies emergent about the interests of men should be \ndetermined, and an end put to strife by peremptory and satisfactory \nmeans, is plainly necessary for common quiet.\n\nWherefore for the public interest and benefit of human society it is \nrequisite that the highest obligations possible should be laid upon \nthe consciences of men.\n\nAnd such are those of oaths, engaging them to fidelity and constancy \nin all such cases, out of regard to Almighty God, as the infallible \npatron of truth and right, the unavoidable chastiser of \nperfidiousness and improbity.\n\nTo such purposes, therefore, oaths have ever been applied, as the \nmost effectual instruments of working them; not only among the \nfollowers of true and perfect religion, but even among all those who \nhad any glimmering notions concerning a Divine Power and Providence; \nwho have deemed an oath the fastest tie of conscience, and held the \nviolation of it for the most detestable impiety and iniquity.  So \nthat what Cicero saith of the Romans, that \"their ancestors had no \nband to constrain faith more strait than an oath,\" is true of all \nother nations, common reason not being able to devise any engagement \nmore obliging than it is; it being in the nature of things [Greek], \nand [Greek], the utmost assurance, the last resort of human faith, \nthe surest pledge that any man can yield of his trustiness.  Hence \never in transactions of highest moment this hath been used to bind \nthe faith of men.\n\nHereby nations have been wont to ratify leagues of peace and amity \nbetween each other (which therefore the Greeks call [Greek]).\n\nHereby princes have obliged their subjects to loyalty:  and it hath \never been the strongest argument to press that duty, which the \nPreacher useth, \"I counsel thee to keep the king's commandment, and \nthat in regard of the oath of God.\"\n\nHereby generals have engaged their soldiers to stick close to them \nin bearing hardships and encountering dangers.\n\nHereby the nuptial league hath been confirmed; the solemnisation \nwhereof in temples before God is in effect a most sacred oath.\n\nHereon the decision of the greatest causes concerning the lives, \nestates, and reputations of men have depended; so that, as the \nApostle saith, \"an oath for confirmation is to them an end of all \nstrife.\"\n\nIndeed, such hath the need hereof been ever apprehended, that we may \nobserve, in cases of great importance, no other obligation hath been \nadmitted for sufficient to bind the fidelity and constancy of the \nmost credible persons; so that even the best men hardly could trust \nthe best men without it.  For instance,\n\nWhen Abimelech would assure to himself the friendship of Abraham, \nalthough he knew him to be a very pious and righteous person, whose \nword might be as well taken as any man's, yet, for entire \nsatisfaction, he thus spake to him:  \"God is with thee in all that \nthou doest:  Now therefore swear unto me here by God, that thou wilt \nnot deal falsely with me.\"\n\nAbraham, though he did much confide in the honesty of his servant \nEliezer, having entrusted him with all his estate, yet in the affair \nconcerning the marriage of his son he could not but thus oblige him:  \n\"Put,\" saith he, \"I pray thee, thy hand under my thigh, and I will \nmake thee swear by the Lord, the God of heaven and the God of the \nearth, that thou wilt not take a wife unto my son of the daughters \nof the Canaanites.\"\n\nLaban had good experience of Jacob's fidelity; yet that would not \nsatisfy, but, \"The Lord,\" said he, \"watch between me and thee, when \nwe are absent one from another. If thou shalt afflict my daughters, \nor if thou shalt take other wives beside my daughters, no man is \nwith us; see, God is witness between thee and me.  The God of \nAbraham, and the God of Nahor, the God of their father, judge \nbetwixt us.\"\n\nSo did Jacob make Joseph swear that he would bury him in Canaan:  \nand Joseph caused the children of Israel to swear that they would \ntranslate his bones.  So did Jonathan cause his beloved friend David \nto swear that he would show kindness to him and to his house for \never.  The prudence of which course the event showeth, the total \nexcision of Jonathan's family being thereby prevented; for \"the \nking,\" 'tis said, \"spared Mephibosheth the son of Jonathan, because \nof the Lord's oath that was between them.\"\n\nThese instances declare that there is no security which men can \nyield comparable to that of an oath; the obligation whereof no man \nwilfully can infringe without renouncing the fear of God and any \npretence to His favour.\n\nWherefore human society will be extremely wronged and damnified by \nthe dissolving or slackening these most sacred bands of conscience; \nand consequently by their common and careless use, which soon will \nbreed a contempt of them, and render them insignificant, either to \nbind the swearers, or to ground a trust on their oaths.\n\nAs by the rare and reverent use of oaths their dignity is upheld and \ntheir obligation kept fast, so by the frequent and negligent \napplication of them, by the prostituting them to every mean and \ntoyish purpose, their respect will be quite lost, their strength \nwill be loosed, they will prove unserviceable to public use.\n\nIf oaths generally become cheap and vile, what will that of \nallegiance signify?  If men are wont to play with swearing anywhere, \ncan we expect they should be serious and strict therein at the bar \nor in the church.  Will they regard God's testimony, or dread His \njudgment, in one place, or at one time, when everywhere upon any, \nupon no occasion they dare to confront and contemn them?  Who then \nwill be the more trusted for swearing?  What satisfaction will any \nman have from it?  The rifeness of this practice, as it is the sign, \nso it will be the cause of a general diffidence among man.\n\nIncredible therefore is the mischief which this vain practice will \nbring in to the public; depriving princes of their best security, \nexposing the estates of private men to uncertainty, shaking all the \nconfidence men can have in the faith of one another.\n\nFor which detriments accruing from this abuse to the public every \nvain swearer is responsible; and he would do well to consider that \nhe will never be able to make reparation for them.  And the public \nis much concerned that this enormity be retrenched.\n\n\nIV.  Let us consider, that rash and vain swearing is very apt often \nto bring the practiser of it into that most horrible sin of perjury.  \nFor \"false swearing,\" as the Hebrew wise man saith, \"naturally \nspringeth out of much swearing:\" and, \"he,\" saith St. Chrysostom, \n\"that sweareth continually, both willingly and unwillingly, both \nignorantly and knowingly, both in earnest and in sport, being often \ntransported by anger and many other things, will frequently \nforswear.  It is confessed and manifest, that it is necessary for \nhim that sweareth much to be perjurious.\"  [Greek], \"For,\" saith he \nagain, \"it is impossible, it is impossible for a mouth addicted to \nswearing not frequently to forswear.\"  He that sweareth at random, \nas blind passion moveth, or wanton fancy prompteth, or the temper \nsuggesteth, often will hit upon asserting that which is false, or \npromising that which is impossible:  that want of conscience and of \nconsideration which do suffer him to violate God's law in swearing \nwill betray him to the venting of lies, which backed with oaths \nbecome perjuries.  If sometime what he sweareth doth happen to be \ntrue and performable, it doth not free him of guilt; it being his \nfortune, rather than his care or conscience, which keepeth him from \nperjury.\n\n\nV.  Such swearing commonly will induce a man to bind himself by oath \nto unlawful practices; and consequently will entangle him in a \nwoeful necessity either of breaking his oath, or of doing worse, and \ncommitting wickedness:  so that \"swearing,\" as St. Chrysostom saith, \n\"hath this misery attending it, that, both trangressed and observed, \nit plagueth those who are guilty of it.\"\n\nOf this perplexity the Holy Scripture affordeth two notable \ninstances:  the one of Saul, forced to break his rash oaths; the \nother of Herod, being engaged thereby to commit a most horrid \nmurder.\n\nHad Saul observed his oaths, what injury had he done, what mischief \nhad he produced, in slaughtering his most worthy and most innocent \nson, the prop and glory of his family, the bulwark of his country, \nand the grand instrument of salvation to it; in forcing the people \nto violate their cross oath, and for prevention of one, causing many \nperjuries?  He was therefore fain to desist, and lie under the guilt \nof breaking his oaths.\n\nAnd for Herod, the excellent father thus presseth the consideration \nof his case:  \"Take,\" saith he, \"I beseech you, the chopped off head \nof St. John, and his warm blood yet trickling down; each of you bear \nit home with you, and conceive that before your eyes you hear it \nuttering speech, and saying, Embrace the murderer of me, an oath.  \nThat which reproof did not, this an oath did do; that which the \ntyrant's wrath could not, this the necessity of keeping an oath did \neffect.  For when the tyrant was reprehended publicly in the \naudience of all men, he bravely did bear the rebuke; but when he had \ncast himself into the necessity of oaths, then did he cut off that \nblessed head.\"\n\n\nVI.  Likewise the use of rash swearing will often engage a man in \nundertakings very inconvenient and detrimental to himself.  A man is \nbound to perform his vows to the Lord, whatever they be, whatever \ndamage or trouble thence may accrue to him, if they be not unlawful.  \nIt is the law, that which is gone out of thy lips, thou shalt keep \nand perform.  It is the property of a good man, that he sweareth to \nhis own hurt, and changeth not.  Wherefore 'tis the part of a sober \nman to be well advised what he doth swear or vow religiously, that \nhe do not put himself into the inextricable strait of committing \ngreat sin, or undergoing great inconvenience; that he do not rush \ninto that snare of which the wise man speaketh, \"It is a snare to a \nman to devour that which is holy (or, to swallow a sacred \nobligation), and after vows to make inquiry,\" seeking how he may \ndisengage himself the doing which is a folly offensive to God, as \nthe Preacher telleth us.  \"When,\" saith he, \"thou vowest a vow unto \nGod, defer not to pay it; for He hath no pleasure in fools:  pay \nthat which thou hast vowed.\"  God will not admit our folly in vowing \nas a plea for non-performance; He will exact it from us both as a \ndue debt, and as a proper punishment of our impious folly.\n\nFor instance, into what loss and mischief, what sorrow, what regret \nand repentance, did the unadvised vow of Jephthah throw him; the \nperformance whereof, as St. Chrysostom remarketh, God did permit, \nand order to be commemorated with solemn lamentation, that all \nposterity might be admonished thereby, and deterred from such \nprecipitant swearing.\n\n\nVII.  Let us consider that swearing is a sin of all others \npeculiarly clamorous, and provocative of Divine judgment.  God is \nhardly so much concerned, or in a manner constrained, to punish any \nother sin as this.  He is bound in honour and interest to vindicate \nHis name from the abuse, His authority from the contempt, His holy \nordinance from the profanation, which it doth infer.  He is \nconcerned to take care that His providence be not questioned, that \nthe dread of His majesty be not voided, that all religion be not \noverthrown by the outrageous commission thereof with impunity.\n\nIt immediately toucheth His name, it expressly calleth upon Him to \nmind it, to judge it, to show himself in avenging it.  He may seem \ndeaf, or unconcerned, if, being so called and provoked, He doth not \ndeclare Himself.\n\nThere is understood to be a kind of formal compact between Him and \nmankind, obliging Him to interpose, to take the matter into His \ncognisance, being specially addressed to Him.\n\nThe bold swearer doth importune Him to hear, doth rouse Him to mark, \ndoth brave Him to judge and punish his wickedness.\n\nHence no wonder that \"the flying roll,\" a quick and inevitable \ncurse, doth surprise the swearer, and cut him off, as it is in the \nprophet.  No wonder that so many remarkable instances do occur in \nhistory of signal vengeance inflicted on persons notably guilty of \nthis crime.  No wonder that a common practice thereof doth fetch \ndown public judgments; and that, as the prophets of old did \nproclaim, \"because of swearing the land mourneth.\"\n\n\nVIII.  Further (passing over the special laws against it, the \nmischievous consequences of it, the sore punishments appointed to \nit), we may consider, that to common sense vain swearing is a very \nunreasonable and ill-favoured practice, greatly misbecoming any \nsober, worthy, or honest person; but especially most absurd and \nincongruous to a Christian.\n\nFor in ordinary conversation what needful or reasonable occasion can \nintervene of violating this command?  If there come under discourse \na matter of reason, which is evidently true and certain, then what \nneed can there be of an oath to affirm it, it sufficing to expose it \nto light, or to propose the evidences for it?  If an obscure or \ndoubtful point come to be debated, it will not bear an oath; it will \nbe a strange madness to dare, a great folly to hope the persuading \nit thereby.  What were more ridiculous than to swear the truth of a \ndemonstrable theorem?  What more vain than so to assert a disputable \nproblem:  oaths (like wagers) are in such cases no arguments, except \nsilliness in the users of them.\n\nIf a matter of history be started, then if a man be taken for \nhonest, his word will pass for attestation without further \nassurance; but if his veracity or probity be doubted, his oath will \nnot be relied on, especially when he doth obtrude it.  For it was no \nless truly than acutely said by the old poet, [Greek], \"The man doth \nnot get credit from an oath, but an oath from the man.\"  And a \ngreater author, \"An oath,\" saith St. Chrysostom, \"doth not make a \nman credible; but the testimony of his life, and the exactness of \nhis conversation, and a good repute.  Many often have burst with \nswearing, and persuaded no man; others only nodding have deserved \nmore belief than those who swore so mightily.\"  Wherefore oaths, as \nthey are frivolous coming from a person of little worth or \nconscience, so they are superfluous in the mouth of an honest and \nworthy person; yea, as they do not increase the credit of the \nformer, so they may impair that of the latter.\n\n\"A good man,\" as Socrates did say, \"should apparently so demean \nhimself, that his word may be deemed more credible than an oath;\" \nthe constant tenour of his practice vouching for it, and giving it \nsuch weight, that no asseveration can further corroborate it.\n\nHe should [Greek], \"swear by his good deeds,\" and exhibit [Greek], \n\"a life deserving belief,\" as Clemens Alex. saith:  so that no man \nshould desire more from him than his bare assertion; but willingly \nshould yield him the privilege which the Athenians granted to \nXenocrates, that he should testify without swearing.\n\nHe should be like the Essenes, of whom Josephus saith, that \neverything spoken by them was more valid than an oath; whence they \ndeclined swearing.\n\nHe should so much confide in his own veracity and fidelity, and so \nmuch stand upon them, that he should not deign to offer any pledge \nfor them, implying them to want confirmation.\n\n\"He should,\" as St. Jerome saith, \"so love truth, that he should \nsuppose himself to have sworn whatsoever he hath said;\" and \ntherefore should not be apt to heap another oath on his words.\n\nUpon such accounts common reason directed even pagan wise men wholly \nto interdict swearing in ordinary conversation, or about petty \nmatters, as an irrational and immoral practice, unworthy of sober \nand discreet persons.  \"Forbear swearing about any matter,\" said \nPlato, cited by Clem. Alex.  \"Avoid swearing, if you can, wholly,\" \nsaid Epictetus.  \"For money swear by no god, though you swear \ntruly,\" said Socrates.  And divers the like precepts occur in other \nheathens; the mention whereof may well serve to strike shame into \nmany loose and vain people bearing the name of Christians.\n\nIndeed, for a true and real Christian, this practice doth especially \nin a far higher degree misbecome him, upon considerations peculiar \nto his high calling and holy profession.\n\nPlutarch telleth us that among the Romans the flamen of Jupiter was \nnot permitted to swear, of which law among other reasons he assigned \nthis:  \"Because it is not handsome that he to whom divine and \ngreatest things are entrusted should be distrusted about small \nmatters.\"  The which reason may well be applied to excuse every \nChristian from it, who is a priest to the most High God, and hath \nthe most celestial and important matters concredited to him; in \ncomparison to which all other matters are very mean and \ninconsiderable.  The dignity of his rank should render his word \nverbum honoris, passable without any further engagement.  He hath \nopinions of things, he hath undertaken practices inconsistent with \nswearing.  For he that firmly doth believe that God is ever present \nwith him, and auditor and witness of all his discourse; he that is \npersuaded that a severe judgment shall pass on him, wherein he must \ngive an account for every idle word which slippeth from him, and \nwherein, among other offenders, assuredly liars will be condemned to \nthe burning lake; he that in a great Sacrament (once most solemnly \ntaken, and frequently renewed) hath engaged and sworn, together with \nall other divine commandments, to observe those which most expressly \ndo charge him to be exactly just, faithful, and veracious in all his \nwords and deeds; who therefore should be ready to say with David, \"I \nhave sworn, and am steadfastly purposed to keep thy righteous \njudgments,\" to him every word hath the force of an oath; every lie, \nevery breach of promise, every violation of faith doth involve \nperjury:  for him to swear is false heraldry, an impertinent \naccumulation of one oath upon another; he of all men should disdain \nto allow that his words are not perfectly credible, that his promise \nis not secure, without being assured by an oath.\n\n\nIX.  Indeed, the practice of swearing greatly disparageth him that \nuseth it, and derogateth from his credit upon divers accounts.\n\nIt signifieth (if it signifieth anything) that he doth not confide \nin his own reputation, and judgeth his own bare word not to deserve \ncredit:  for why, if he taketh his word to be good, doth he back it \nwith asseverations? why, if he deemeth his own honesty to bear \nproof, doth he cite Heaven to warrant it?\n\n\"It is,\" saith St. Basil, \"a very foul and silly thing for a man to \naccuse himself as unworthy of belief, and to proffer an oath for \nsecurity.\"\n\nBy so doing a man doth authorise others to distrust him; for it can \nbe no wrong to distrust him who doth not pretend to be a credible \nperson, or that his saying alone may safely be taken:  who, by \nsuspecting that others are not satisfied with his simple assertion, \nimplieth a reason known to himself for it.\n\nIt rendereth whatever he saith to be in reason suspicious, as \ndiscovering him void of conscience and discretion; for he that \nflatly against the rules of duty and reason will swear vainly, what \ncan engage him to speak truly?  He that is so loose in so clear and \nso considerable a point of obedience to God, how can he be supposed \nstaunch in regard to any other?  \"It being,\" as Aristotle hath it, \n\"the part of the same men to do ill things, and not to regard \nforswearing.\"  It will at least constrain any man to suspect all his \ndiscourse of vanity and unadvisedness, seeing he plainly hath no \ncare to bridle his tongue from so gross an offence.\n\nIt is strange, therefore, that any man of honour or honesty should \nnot scorn, by such a practice, to shake his own credit, or to \ndetract from the validity of his word; which should stand firm on \nitself, and not want any attestation to support it.  It is a \nprivilege of honourable persons that they are excused from swearing, \nand that their verbum honoris passeth in lieu of an oath:  is it not \nthen strange, that when others dispense with them, they should not \ndispense with themselves, but voluntarily degrade themselves, and \nwith sin forfeit so noble a privilege?\n\n\nX.  To excuse these faults, the swearer will be forced to confess \nthat his oaths are no more than waste and insignificant words, \ndeprecating being taken for serious, or to be understood that he \nmeaneth anything by them, but only that he useth them as expletive \nphrases, [Greek], to plump his speech, and fill up sentences.  But \nsuch pleas do no more than suggest other faults of swearing, and \ngood arguments against it; its impertinence, its abuse of speech, \nits disgracing the practiser of it in point of judgment and \ncapacity.  For so it is, oaths as they commonly pass are mere \nexcrescences of speech, which do nothing but encumber and deform it; \nthey so embellish discourse, as a wen or a scab do beautify a face, \nas a patch or a spot do adorn a garment.\n\nTo what purpose, I pray, is God's name hooked and haled into our \nidle talk? why should we so often mention Him, when we do not mean \nanything about Him? would it not, into every sentence to foist a dog \nor a horse, to intrude Turkish, or any barbarous gibberish, be \naltogether as proper and pertinent?\n\nWhat do these superfluities signify, but that the venter of them \ndoth little skill the use of speech, or the rule of conversation, \nbut meaneth to sputter and prate anything without judgment or wit; \nthat his invention is very barren, his fancy beggarly, craving the \naid of any stuff to relieve it?  One would think a man of sense \nshould grudge to lend his ear, or incline his attention to such \nmotley ragged discourse; that without nauseating he scarce should \nendure to observe men lavishing time, and squandering their breath \nso frivolously.  'Tis an affront to good company to pester it with \nsuch talk.\n\n\nXI.  But further, upon higher accounts this is a very uncivil and \nunmannerly practice.\n\nSome vain persons take it for a genteel and graceful thing; a \nspecial accomplishment, a mark of fine breeding, a point of high \ngallantry; for who, forsooth, is the brave spark, the complete \ngentleman, the man of conversation and address, but he that hath the \nskill and confidence (O heavens! how mean a skill! how mad a \nconfidence!) to lard every sentence with an oath or a curse, making \nbold at every turn to salute his Maker, or to summon Him in \nattestation of his tattle; not to say calling and challenging the \nAlmighty to damn and destroy him?  Such a conceit, I say, too many \nhave of swearing, because a custom thereof, together with divers \nother fond and base qualities, hath prevailed among some people, \nbearing the name and garb of gentlemen.\n\nBut in truth, there is no practice more crossing the genuine nature \nof genteelness, or misbecoming persons well born and well bred; who \nshould excel the rude vulgar in goodness, in courtesy, in nobleness \nof heart, in unwillingness to offend, and readiness to oblige those \nwith whom they converse, in steady composedness of mind and manners, \nin disdaining to say or do any unworthy, any unhandsome things.\n\nFor this practice is not only a gross rudeness toward the main body \nof men, who justly reverence the name of God, and detest such an \nabuse thereof; not only further an insolent defiance of the common \nprofession, the religion, the law of our country, which disalloweth \nand condemneth it, but it is very odious and offensive to any \nparticular society or company, at least, wherein there is any sober \nperson, any who retaineth a sense of goodness, or is anywise \nconcerned for God's honour:  for to any such person no language can \nbe more disgustful; nothing can more grate his ears, or fret his \nheart, than to hear the sovereign object of his love and esteem so \nmocked and slighted; to see the law of his Prince so disloyally \ninfringed, so contemptuously trampled on; to find his best Friend \nand Benefactor so outrageously abused.  To give him the lie were a \ncompliment, to spit in his face were an obligation, in comparison to \nthis usage.\n\nWherefore 'tis a wonder that any person of rank, any that hath in \nhim a spark of ingenuity, or doth at all pretend to good manners, \nshould find in his heart or deign to comply with so scurvy a \nfashion:  a fashion much more befitting the scum of the people than \nthe flower of the gentry; yea, rather much below any man endued with \na scrap of reason or a grain of goodness.  Would we bethink \nourselves, modest, sober, and pertinent discourse would appear far \nmore generous and masculine than such mad hectoring the Almighty, \nsuch boisterous insulting over the received laws and general notions \nof mankind, such ruffianly swaggering against sobriety and goodness.  \nIf gentlemen would regard the virtues of their ancestors, the \nfounders of their quality--that gallant courage and solid wisdom, \nthat noble courtesy, which advanced their families and severed them \nfrom the vulgar--this degenerate wantonness and forbidness of \nlanguage would return to the dunghill, or rather, which God grant, \nbe quite banished from the world, the vulgar following their \nexample.\n\n\nXII.  Further, the words of our Lord, when He forbade this practice, \ndo suggest another consideration against it, deducible from the \ncauses and sources of it; from whence it cometh, that men are so \ninclined or addicted thereto.  \"Let,\" saith He, \"your communication \nbe Yea, yea, Nay, nay; for whatsoever is more than these cometh of \nevil.\"  The roots of it, He assureth us, are evil, and therefore the \nfruit cannot be good:  it is no grape which groweth from thorns, or \nfig from thistles.  Consult experience, and observe whence it doth \nproceed.\n\nSometimes it ariseth from exorbitant heats of spirit, or transports \nof unbridled passion.  When a man is keenly peevish, or fiercely \nangry, or eagerly contentious, then he blustereth, and dischargeth \nhis choler in most tragical strains; then he would fright the \nobjects of his displeasure by the most violent expressions thereof.  \nThis is sometime alleged in excuse of rash swearing:  I was \nprovoked, the swearer will say, I was in passion; but it is strange \nthat a bad cause should justify a bad effect, that one crime should \nwarrant another, that what would spoil a good action should excuse a \nbad one.\n\nSometimes it proceedeth from arrogant conceit, and a tyrannical \nhumour; when a man fondly admireth his own opinion, and affecting to \nimpose it on others, is thence moved to thwack it on with lusty \nasseverations.\n\nSometimes it issueth from wantonness and levity of mind, disposing a \nman to sport with anything, how serious, how grave, how sacred and \nvenerable soever.\n\nSometimes its rise is from stupid inadvertency, or heady \nprecipitancy; when the man doth not heed what he saith, or consider \nthe nature and consequence of his words, but snatcheth any \nexpression which cometh next, or which his roving fancy doth offer, \nfor want of that caution of the psalmist, \"I said, I will take heed \nto my ways, that I sin not with my tongue; I will keep my mouth with \na bridle, while the wicked is before me.\"\n\nSometimes (alas! how often in this miserable age!) it doth spring \nfrom profane boldness; when men design to put affronts on religion, \nand to display their scorn and spite against conscience, affecting \nthe reputation of stout blades, of gallant hectors, of resolute \ngiants, who dare do anything, who are not afraid to defy Heaven, and \nbrave God Almighty Himself.\n\nSometimes it is derived from apish imitation, or a humour to comply \nwith a fashion current among vain and dissolute persons.\n\nIt always doth come from a great defect in conscience, of reverence \nto God, of love to goodness, of discretion and sober regard to the \nwelfare of a man's soul.\n\nFrom such evidently vicious and unworthy sources it proceedeth, and \ntherefore must needs be very culpable.  No good, no wise man can \nlike actions drawn from such principles.  Further--\n\n\nXIII.  This offence may be particularly aggravated by considering \nthat it hath no strong temptation alluring to it, that it yieldeth \nno sensible advantage, that it most easily may be avoided or \ncorrected.\n\n\"Every sin,\" saith St. Chrysostom, \"hath not the same punishment; \nbut those things which may easily be reformed do bring on us greater \npunishment:\" and what can be more easy than to reform this fault?  \n\"Tell me,\" saith he, \"what difficulty, what sweat, what art, what \nhazard, what more doth it require beside a little care\" to abstain \nwholly from it?  It is but willing, or resolving on it, and it is \ninstantly done; for there is not any natural inclination disposing \nto it, any strong appetite to detain us under its power.\n\nIt gratifieth no sense, it yieldeth no profit, it procureth no \nhonour; for the sound of it is not very melodious, and no man surely \ndid ever get an estate by it, or was preferred to dignity for it.  \nIt rather to any good ear maketh a horrid and jarring noise; it \nrather with the best part of the world produceth displeasure, \ndamage, and disgrace.  What therefore, beside monstrous vanity and \nunaccountable perverseness, should hold men so devoted thereto?\n\nSurely of all dealers in sin the swearer is palpably the silliest, \nand maketh the worst bargains for himself, for he sinneth gratis, \nand, like those in the prophet, \"selleth his soul for nothing.\"  An \nepicure hath some reason to allege, an extortioner is a man of \nwisdom, and acteth prudently in comparison to him; for they enjoy \nsome pleasure, or acquire some gain here, in lieu of their salvation \nhereafter, but this fondling offendeth Heaven, and abandoneth \nhappiness, he knoweth not why or for what.  He hath not so much as \nthe common plea of human infirmity to excuse him; he can hardly say \nthat he was tempted thereto by any bait.\n\nA fantastic humour possesseth him of spurning at piety and \nsoberness; he inconsiderately followeth a herd of wild fops, he \naffecteth to play the ape.  What more than this can he say for \nhimself?\n\n\nXIV.  Finally, let us consider that as we ourselves, with all our \nmembers and powers, were chiefly designed and framed to glorify our \nMaker, the which to do is indeed the greatest perfection and noblest \nprivilege of our nature, so our tongue and speaking faculty were \ngiven to us to declare our admiration and reverence of Him, to \nexhibit our due love and gratitude toward Him, to profess our trust \nand confidence in Him, to celebrate His praises, to avow His \nbenefits, to address our supplications to Him, to maintain all kinds \nof devotional intercourse with Him, to propagate our knowledge, \nfear, love, and obedience to Him, in all such ways to promote His \nhonour and service.  This is the most proper, worthy, and due use of \nour tongue, for which it was created, to which it is dedicated, from \nwhence it becometh, as it is so often styled, our glory, and the \nbest member that we have; that whereby we excel all creatures here \nbelow, and whereby we are no less discriminated from them, than by \nour reason; that whereby we consort with the blessed angels above in \nthe distinct utterance of praise and communication of glory to our \nCreator.  Wherefore, applying this to any impious discourse with \nwhich to profane God's blessed name, with this to violate His holy \ncommands, with this to unhallow His sacred ordinance, with this to \noffer dishonour and indignity to Him, is a most unnatural abuse, a \nhorrid ingratitude toward Him.\n\nIt is that indeed whereby we render this noble organ incapable of \nany good use.  For how, as the excellent father doth often urge, can \nwe pray to God for mercies, or praise God for His benefits, or \nheartily confess our sins, or cheerfully partake of the holy \nmysteries, with a mouth defiled by impious oaths, with a heart \nguilty of so heinous disobedience.\n\nLikewise, whereas a secondary very worthy use of our speech is to \npromote the good of our neighbour, and especially to edify him in \npiety, according to that wholesome precept of the Apostle, \"Let no \ncorrupt communication proceed out of your mouth, but that which is \ngood to the use of edifying, that it may administer grace unto the \nhearers.\"  The practice of swearing is an abuse very contrary to \nthat good purpose, serving to corrupt our neighbour, and to instil \ninto him a contempt of religion; or however grievously to scandalise \nhim.\n\n\nXV.  I shall add but two words more.  One is, that we would \nseriously consider that our Blessed Saviour, who loved us so dearly, \nwho did and suffered so much for us, who redeemed us by His blood, \nwho said unto us, \"If ye love Me, keep My commandments,\" He thus \npositively hath enjoined, \"But I say unto you, Swear not at all;\" \nand how then can we find in our heart directly to thwart His word.\n\nThe other is, that we would lay to heart the reason whereby St. \nJames doth enforce the point, and the sting in the close of our \ntext, wherewith I conclude:  \"But above all things, my brethren, \nswear not, neither by heaven, neither by the earth, neither by any \nother oath; but let your yea be yea, and your nay nay, lest ye fall \ninto condemnation,\" or, \"lest ye fall under damnation.\"  From the \nwhich infinite mischief, and from all sin that may cause it, God in \nmercy deliver us through our Blessed Redeemer Jesus, to whom for \never be all glory and praise.\n\n\n\nOF EVIL-SPEAKING IN GENERAL.\n\n\n\n\"To speak evil of no man.\"--Titus iii. 2.\n\nThese words do imply a double duty; one incumbent on teachers, \nanother on the people who are to be instructed by them.\n\nThe teacher's duty appeareth from reflecting on the words of the \ncontext, which govern these, and make them up an entire sentence:  \nput them in mind, or, rub up their memory to do thus.  It is St. \nPaul's injunction to Titus, a bishop and pastor of the Church, that \nhe should admonish the people committed to his care and instruction, \nas of other great duties (of yielding obedience to magistrates, of \nbehaving themselves peaceably, of practising meekness and equity \ntowards all men, of being readily disposed to every good work), so \nparticularly of this, [Greek], to revile or speak evil of no man.\n\nWhence it is apparent that this is one of the principal duties that \npreachers are obliged to mind people of, and to press upon them.  \nAnd if this were needful then, when charity, kindled by such \ninstructions and examples, was so lively; when Christians, by their \nsufferings, were so inured to meekness and patience; even every one, \nfor the honour of his religion, and the safety of his person, was \nconcerned in all respects to demean himself innocently and \ninoffensively; then is it now especially requisite, when (such \nengagements and restraints being taken off, love being cooled, \npersecution being extinct, the tongue being set loose from all \nextraordinary curbs) the transgression of this duty is grown so \nprevalent and rife, that evil-speaking is almost as common as \nspeaking, ordinary conversation extremely abounding therewith, that \nministers should discharge their office in dehorting and dissuading \nfrom it.\n\nWell indeed it were, if by their example of using mild and moderate \ndiscourse, of abstaining from virulent invectives, tauntings, and \nscoffings, good for little but to inflame anger, and infuse ill-\nwill, they would lead men to good practice of this sort:  for no \nexamples can be so wholesome, or so mischievous to this purpose, as \nthose which come down from the pulpit, the place of edification, \nbacked with special authority and advantage.\n\nHowever, it is to preachers a ground of assurance and matter of \nsatisfaction, that in pressing this duty they shall perform their \nduty:  their text being not so much of their own choosing, as given \nthem by St. Paul; they can surely scarce find a better to discourse \nupon:  it cannot be a matter of small moment or use, which this \ngreat master and guide so expressly directeth us to insist upon.  \nAnd to the observance of his precept, so far as concerneth me, I \nshall immediately apply myself.\n\nIt is then the duty of all Christian people (to be taught and \npressed on them) not to reproach, or speak evil of any man.  The \nwhich duty, for your instruction, I shall first endeavour somewhat \nto explain, declaring its import and extent; then, for your further \nedification, I shall inculcate it, proposing several inducements \npersuasive to the observance of it.\n\n\nI.  For explication, we may first consider the object of it, no man; \nthen the act itself, which is prohibited, to blaspheme, that is, to \nreproach, to revile, or (as we have it rendered) to speak evil.\n\nNo man.  St. Paul questionless did especially mean hereby to hinder \nthe Christians at that time from reproaching the Jews and the pagans \namong whom they lived, men in their lives very wicked and corrupt, \nmen in opinion extremely dissenting from them, men who greatly did \nhate, and cruelly did persecute them; of whom therefore they had \nmighty provocations and temptations to speak ill; their judgment of \nthe persons, and their resentment of injuries, making it difficult \nto abstain from doing so.  Whence by a manifest analogy may be \ninferred that the object of duty is very large, indeed universal and \nunlimited:  that we must forbear reproach not only against pious and \nvirtuous persons, against persons of our own judgment or party, \nagainst those who never did harm or offend us, against our \nrelations, our friends, our benefactors, in respect of whom there is \nno ground or temptation of evil-speaking; but even against the most \nunworthy and wicked persons, against those who most differ in \nopinion and practice from us, against those who never did oblige us, \nyea, those who have most disobliged us, even against our most bitter \nand spiteful enemies.  There is no exception or excuse to be \nadmitted from the quality, state, relation, or demeanour of men; the \nduty (according to the proper sense, or due qualifications and \nlimits of the act) doth extend to all men:  for, \"Speak evil of no \nman.\"\n\nAs for the act, it may be inquired what the word [Greek] (to \nblaspheme) doth import.  I answer, that it is to vent words \nconcerning any person which do signify in us ill-opinion, or \ncontempt, anger, hatred, enmity conceived in our minds towards him; \nwhich are apt in him to kindle wrath, and breed ill-blood towards \nus; which tend to beget in others that hear ill-conceit or ill-will \ntowards him; which are much destructive of his reputation, \nprejudicial to his interests, productive of damage or mischief to \nhim.  It is otherwise in Scripture termed [Greek], to rail or \nrevile, (to use bitter and ignominious language); [Greek], to speak \ncontumeliously; [Greek], to bring railing accusation (or reproachful \ncensure); [Greek], to use obloquy, or detraction; [Greek], to curse, \nthat is, to speak words importing that we do wish ill to a person.\n\nSuch is the language we are prohibited to use.  To which purpose we \nmay observe that whereas, in our conversation and commerce with men, \nthere do frequently often occur occasions to speak of men and to men \nwords apparently disadvantageous to them, expressing our dissent in \nopinion from them, or a dislike in us of their proceedings, we may \ndo this in different ways and terms; some of them gentle and \nmoderate, signifying no ill mind or disaffection towards them; \nothers harsh and sharp, arguing height of disdain, disgust, or \ndespite, whereby we bid them defiance, and show that we mean to \nexasperate them.  Thus, telling a man that we differ in judgment \nfrom him, or conceive him not to be in the right, and calling him a \nliar, a deceiver, a fool, saying that he doeth amiss, taketh a wrong \ncourse, transgresseth the rule, and calling him dishonest, unjust, \nwicked, to omit more odious and provoking names, unbecoming this \nplace, and not deserving our notice, are several ways of expressing \nthe same things whereof the latter, in relating passages concerning \nour neighbour, or in debating cases with him, is prohibited:  for \nthus the words reproaching, reviling, railing, cursing, and the like \ndo signify, and thus our Lord Himself doth explain them in His \ndivine sermon, wherein he doth enact this law:  \"Whosoever,\" saith \nHe, \"shall say to his brother, Raca\" (that is, vain man, or liar), \n\"shall be in danger of the council; but whosoever shall say, Thou \nfool, shall be in danger of hell-fire;\" that is, he rendereth \nhimself liable to a strict account, and to severe condemnation \nbefore God, who useth contemptuous and contumelious expressions \ntowards his neighbour, in proportion to the malignity of such \nexpressions.\n\nThe reason of things also doth help to explain those words, and to \nshow why they are prohibited because those harsh terms are needless, \nmild words serving as well to express the same things:  because they \nare commonly unjust, loading men with greater defect or blame than \nthey can be proved to deserve, or their actions do import; for every \nman that speaketh falsehood is not therefore a liar, every man that \nerreth is not thence a fool, every man that doeth amiss is not \nconsequently dishonest or wicked; the secret intentions and habitual \ndispositions of men not being always to be collected from their \noutward actions; because they are uncharitable, signifying that we \nentertain the worst opinions of men, and make the worst construction \nof their doings, and are disposed to show them no favour or \nkindness:  because, also, they produce mischievous effects, such as \nspring from the worst passions raised by them.\n\nThis in gross is the meaning of the precept.  But since there are \nsome other precepts seeming to clash with this; since there are \ncases wherein we are allowed to use the harsher sort of terms, there \nare great examples in appearance thwarting this rule; therefore it \nmay be requisite for determining the limits of our duty, and \ndistinguishing it from transgression, that such exceptions or \nrestrictions should be somewhat declared.\n\n1.  First, then, we may observe that it may be allowable to persons \nin anywise concerned in the prosecution or administration of \njustice, to speak words which in private intercourse would be \nreproachful.  A witness may impeach of crimes hurtful to justice, or \npublic tranquillity; a judge may challenge, may rebuke, may condemn \nan offender in proper terms (or forms of speech prescribed by law), \nalthough most disgraceful and distasteful to the guilty:  for it \nbelongeth to the majesty of public justice to be bold, blunt, \nsevere; little regarding the concerns or passions of particular \npersons, in comparison to the public welfare.\n\nA testimony, therefore, or sentence against a criminal, which \nmaterially is a reproach, and morally would be such in a private \nmouth, is not yet formally so according to the intent of this rule.  \nFor practices of this kind, which serve the exigencies of justice, \nare not to be interpreted as proceeding from anger, hatred, revenge, \nany bad passion or humour; but in way of needful discipline for \nGod's service, and common benefit of men.  It is not, indeed, so \nmuch the minister of justice, as God Himself, our absolute Lord; as \nthe Sovereign, God's representative, acting in the public behalf; as \nthe commonwealth itself, who by His mouth do rebuke the obnoxious \nperson.\n\n2.  God's ministers in religious affairs, to whom the care of men's \ninstruction and edification is committed, are enabled to inveigh \nagainst sin and vice, whoever consequentially may be touched \nthereby:  yea, sometimes it is their duty with severity and \nsharpness to reprove particular persons, not only privately, but \npublicly, for their correction, and for the edification of others.\n\nThus St. Paul directeth Timothy:  \"Them that sin\" (notoriously and \nscandalously, he meaneth), \"rebuke before all, that others may \nfear:\" that is, in a manner apt to make impression on the minds of \nthe hearers, so as to scare them from like offences.  And to Titus \nhe writes, \"Rebuke them sharply, that they may be found in the \nfaith.\"  And, \"Cry aloud, spare not, lift up thy voice like a \ntrumpet, and show my people their transgressions, and the house of \nJacob their sins,\" saith the Lord to the prophet.  Such are the \ncharges and commissions laid on and granted to His messengers.\n\nThus we may observe that God's prophets of old, St. John the \nBaptist, our Lord Himself, the holy apostles did in terms most \nvehement and biting reprove the age in which they lived, and some \nparticular persons in them.  The prophets are full of declamations \nand invectives against the general corruption of their times, and \nagainst the particular manners of some persons in them.  \"Ah, sinful \nnation; people laden with iniquity, a seed of evil-doers, children \nthat are corrupters!  They are all adulterers, an assembly of \ntreacherous men; and they bend their tongues like their bow for \nlies.  Thy princes are rebellious and companions of thieves; every \none loveth gifts, and followeth after rewards:  they judge not the \nfatherless, neither doth the cause of the widow come before them.  \nThe prophets prophesy falsely, and the priests rule by their means.  \nAs troops of robbers wait for a man, so the company of priests \nmurder in the way by consent, and commit lewdness.\"  Such is their \nstyle commonly.  St. John the Baptist calleth the Scribes and \nPharisees a \"generation of vipers.\"  Our Saviour speaketh of them in \nthe same terms; calleth them an \"evil and adulterous generation, \nserpents, and children of vipers.  Hypocrites, painted sepulchres, \nobscure graves ([Greek]), blind guides; fools and blind, children of \nthe devil.\"  St. Paul likewise calleth the schismatical heretical \nteachers \"dogs, false apostles, evil and deceitful workers, men of \ncorrupt minds, reprobates and abominable.\"  With the like colours do \nSt. Peter, St. Jude, and other apostles paint them.  Which sort of \nspeeches are to be supposed to proceed, not from private passion or \ndesign, but out of holy zeal for God's honour, and from earnest \ncharity towards men, for to work their amendment and common \nedification.  They were uttered also by special wisdom and peculiar \norder; from God's authority, and in His name; so that, as God by \nthem is said to preach, to entreat, to warn, and to exhort, so by \nthem also He may be said to reprehend and reproach.\n\n3.  Even private persons in due season, with discretion and temper, \nmay reprove others, whom they observe to commit sin, or follow bad \ncourses, out of charitable design, and with hope to reclaim them.  \nThis was an office of charity imposed anciently even upon the Jews; \nmuch more doth it lie upon Christians, who are obliged more \nearnestly to tender the spiritual good of those who by the stricter \nand more holy bands of brotherhood are allied to them.  \"Thou shalt \nnot hate thy brother; thou shalt in any wise rebuke thy neighbour, \nand not suffer sin upon him,\" was a precept of the old law:  and, \n[Greek], to admonish the disorderly, is an evangelical rule.  Such \npersons we are enjoined to shun and decline; but first we must \nendeavour by sober advice and admonition to reclaim them; we must \nnot thus reject them till they appear contumacious and incorrigible, \nrefusing to hear us, or becoming deaf to reproof.  This, although it \nnecessarily doth include setting out their faults, and charging \nblame on them (answerable to their offences), is not the culpable \nreproach here meant, it being needful towards a wholesome effect, \nand proceeding from charitable intention.\n\n4.  Some vehemency, some smartness and sharpness of speech may \nsometimes be used in defence of truth, and impugning errors of bad \nconsequence; especially when it concerneth the interest of truth, \nthat the reputation and authority of its adversaries should somewhat \nbe abased or abated.  If by partial opinion or reverence towards \nthem, however begotten in the minds of men, they strive to overbear \nor discountenance a good cause, their faults (so far as truth \npermitteth and need requireth) may be detected and displayed.  For \nthis cause particularly may we presume our Lord (otherwise so meek \nin His temper, and mild in His carriage towards all men) did \ncharacterise the Jewish scribes in such terms, that their authority, \nbeing then so prevalent with the people, might not prejudice the \ntruth, and hinder the efficacy of His doctrine.  This is part of \nthat [Greek], that duty of contending earnestly for the faith, which \nis incumbent on us.\n\n5.  It may be excusable upon particular emergent occasions, with \nsome heat of language to express dislike of notorious wickedness.  \nAs our Lord doth against the perverse incredulity and stupidity in \nthe Pharisees, their profane misconstruction of His words and \nactions, their malicious opposing truth, and obstructing His \nendeavours in God's service.  As St. Peter did to Simon Magus, \ntelling him that he was in the gall of bitterness, and in the bond \nof iniquity.  As St. Paul to Elymas the sorcerer, when he withstood \nhim, and desired to turn away the Deputy Sergius from the faith; \n\"O,\" said he, stirred with a holy zeal and indignation, \"thou full \nof all subtilty and all mischief, thou child of the devil, thou \nenemy of all righteousness, wilt thou not cease to pervert the right \nways of the Lord?\"  The same spirit which enabled him to inflict a \nsore punishment on that wicked wretch, did prompt him to use that \nsharp language towards him; unquestionably deserved, and seasonably \npronounced.  As also when the high priest commanded him illegally \nand unjustly to be misused, that speech from a mind justly sensible \nof such outrage broke forth, \"God shall smite thee, thou whited \nwall.\"  So when St. Peter presumptuously would have dissuaded our \nLord from compliance with God's will, in undergoing those crosses \nwhich were appointed to Him by God's decree, our Lord calleth him \nSatan; . . . . \"[Greek], \"Avaunt, Satan, thou art an offence unto \nMe; for thou savourest not the things that be of God, but those that \nare of men.\"\n\nThese sort of speeches, issuing from just and honest indignation, \nare sometimes excusable, oftentimes commendable; especially when \nthey come from persons eminent in authority, of notable integrity, \nendued with special measures of Divine grace, of wisdom, of \ngoodness; such as cannot be suspected of intemperate anger, of ill-\nnature, of ill-will, or of ill-design.\n\nIn such cases as are above mentioned, a sort of evil-speaking about \nour neighbour may be allowable or excusable.  But, for fear of \noverdoing, great caution and temper is to be used; and we should \nnever apply any such limitations as cloaks to palliate unjust or \nuncharitable dealing.  Generally it is more advisable to suppress \nsuch eruptions of passion than to vent it; for seldom passion hath \nnot inordinate motions joined with it, or tendeth to good ends.  \nAnd, however, it will do well to reflect on those cases, and to \nremark some particulars about them.\n\nFirst, we may observe that in all these cases all possible \nmoderation, equity, and candour are to be used; so that no ill-\nspeaking be practised beyond what is needful or convenient.  Even in \nprosecution of offences, the bounds of truth, of equity, of humanity \nand clemency are not to be transgressed.  A judge must not lay on \nthe most criminal person more blame or contumely than the case will \nbear, or than serveth the designs of justice.  However our neighbour \ndoth incur the calamities of sin and of punishment, we must not be \ninsolent or contemptuous towards him.  So we may learn by that law \nof Moses, backed with a notable reason:  \"And it shall be, if the \nwicked man be worthy to be beaten, that the judge cause him to lie \ndown, and to be beaten before his face, according to his fault by a \ncertain number.  Forty stripes he may give him, and not exceed; lest \nif he should exceed, and beat him above those stripes, then thy \nbrother should seem vile unto thee.\"  Whence appears that we should \nbe careful of not vilifying an offender beyond measure.  And how \nmildly governors should proceed in the administration of justice, \nthe example of Joshua may teach us, who thus examineth Achan, the \ncause of so great mischief to the public:  \"My son, give, I pray \nthee, glory to the Lord God of Israel, and make confession unto Him; \nand tell me now what thou hast done, and hide it not from me.\"  \"My \nson;\" what compellation could be more benign and kind? \"I pray \nthee;\" what language could be more courteous and gentle? \"give glory \nto God, and make confession;\" what words could be more inoffensively \npertinent?  And when he sentenced that great malefactor, the cause \nof so much mischief, this was all he said, \"Why hast thou troubled \nus? the Lord will trouble thee;\" words void of contumely or \ninsulting, containing only a close intimation of the cause, and a \nsimple declaration of the event he was to undergo.\n\nSecondly, likewise ministers, in the taxing sin and sinners, are to \nproceed with great discretion and caution, with much gentleness and \nmeekness; signifying a tender pity of their infirmities, charitable \ndesires for their good, the best opinion of them, and the best hopes \nfor them, that may consist with any reason; according to those \napostolical rules:  \"Brethren, if a man be overtaken in a fault, ye \nwhich are spiritual, restore such an one in the spirit of meekness; \nconsidering thyself, lest thou also be tempted;\" and, \"We that are \nstrong ought to bear the infirmities of the weak, and not to please \nourselves:\" and, more expressly, \"A servant of the Lord must not \nfight, but be gentle toward all, apt to teach, patient, in meekness \ninstructing those that oppose themselves.\"  Thus did St. Peter \ntemper his reproof of Simon Magus with this wholesome and \ncomfortable advice:  \"Repent, therefore, from this thy wickedness, \nand pray God if perhaps the thought of thine heart may be forgiven \nthee.\"\n\nThirdly, as for fraternal censure and reproof of faults (when it is \njust and expedient to use it), ordinarily the calmest and mildest \nway is the most proper, and most likely to obtain good success; it \ncommonly doth in a more kindly manner convey the sense thereof into \nthe heart, and therein more powerfully worketh remorse, than the \nfierce and harsh way.  Clearly to show a man his fault, with the \nreason proving it such, so that he becometh thoroughly convinced of \nit, is sufficient to breed in him regret, and to shame him before \nhis own mind:  to do more (in way of aggravation, of insulting on \nhim, of inveighing against him), as it doth often not well consist \nwith humanity, so it is seldom consonant to discretion, if we do, as \nwe ought, seek his health and amendment.  Humanity requireth that \nwhen we undertake to reform our neighbour, we should take care not \nto deform him (not to discourage or displease him more than is \nnecessary); when we would correct his manners, that we should also \nconsider his modesty, and consult his reputation; \"curam agentes,\" \nas Seneca speaketh, \"non tantum salutis, sed et honestae cicatricis\" \n(having care not only to heal the wound, but to leave a comely scar \nbehind).  \"Be,\" adviseth St. Austin, \"so displeased with iniquity, \nas to consider and consult humanity;\" for, \"Zeal void of humanity is \nnot,\" saith St. Chrysostom, \"zeal, but rather animosity; and reproof \nnot mixed with good-will appeareth a kind of malignity.\"  We should \nso rebuke those who, by frailty or folly incident to mankind, have \nfallen into misdemeanours, that they may perceive we do sincerely \npity their ill case, and tender their good; that we mean not to \nupbraid their weakness or insult upon their misfortune; that we \ndelight not to inflict on them more grief than is plainly needful \nand unavoidable; that we are conscious and sensible of our own \nobnoxiousness to the like slips or falls, and do consider that we \nalso may be tempted, and being tempted, may be overborne.  This they \ncannot perceive or be persuaded of, except we temper our speech with \nbenignity and mildness.  Such speech prudence also dictateth, as \nmost useful and hopeful for producing the good ends honest \nreprehension doth aim at; it mollifieth and it melteth a stubborn \nheart, it subdueth and winneth a perverse will, it healeth \ndistempered affections.  Whereas roughly handling is apt to defeat \nor obstruct the cure:  rubbing the sore doth tend to exasperate and \ninflame it.  Harsh speech rendereth advice odious and unsavoury; \ndriveth from it and depriveth it of efficacy; it turneth regret for \na fault into displeasure and disdain against the reprover; it looks \nnot like the dealing of a kind friend, but like the persecution of a \nspiteful enemy; it seemeth rather an ebullition of gall, or a \ndefluxion from rancour, than an expression of good-will; the \noffender will take it for a needless and pitiless tormenting, or for \na proud and tyrannical domineering over him.  He that can bear a \nfriendly touch, will not endure to be lashed with angry and \nreproachful words.  In fine, all reproof ought to be seasoned with \ndiscretion, with candour, with moderation, and meekness.\n\nFourthly, likewise in defence of truth, and maintenance of a good \ncause, we may observe that commonly the fairest language is most \nproper and advantageous, and that reproachful or foul terms are most \nimproper and prejudicial.  A calm and meek way of discoursing doth \nmuch advantage a good cause, as arguing the patron thereof to have \nconfidence in the cause itself, and to rely upon his strength:  that \nhe is in a temper fit to apprehend it himself, and to maintain it; \nthat he propoundeth it as a friend, wishing the hearer for his own \ngood to follow it, leaving him the liberty to judge, and choose for \nhimself.  But rude speech, and contemptuous reflections on persons, \nas they do signify nothing to the question, so they commonly bring \nmuch disadvantage and damage to the cause, creating mighty \nprejudices against it; they argue much impotency in the advocate, \nand consequently little strength in what he maintains; that he is \nlittle able to judge well, and altogether unapt to teach others; \nthey intimate a diffidence in himself concerning his cause, and \nthat, despairing to maintain it by reason, he seeks to uphold it by \npassion; that not being able to convince by fair means, he would \nbear down by noise and clamour:  that not skilling to get his suit \nquietly, he would extort it by force, obtruding his conceits \nviolently as an enemy, or imposing them arbitrarily as a tyrant.  \nThus doth he really disparage and slur his cause, however good and \ndefensible in itself.\n\nA modest and friendly style doth suit truth; it, like its author, \ndoth usually reside (not in the rumbling wind, nor in the shaking \nearthquake, nor in the raging fire, but) in the small still voice; \nsounding in this, it is most audible, most penetrant, and most \neffectual; thus propounded, it is willingly hearkened to:  for men \nhave no aversion from hearing those who seem to love them, and wish \nthem well.  It is easily conceived, no prejudice or passion clouding \nthe apprehensive faculties; it is readily embraced, no animosity \nwithstanding or obstructing it.  It is the sweetness of the lips, \nwhich, as the wise man telleth us, increaseth learning; disposing a \nman to hear lessons of good doctrine, rendering him capable to \nunderstand them, insinuating and impressing them upon the mind; the \naffections being thereby unlocked, the passage becomes open to the \nreason.\n\nBut it is plainly a preposterous method of instructing, of deciding \ncontroversies, of begetting peace, to vex and anger those concerned \nby ill language.  Nothing surely doth more hinder the efficacy of \ndiscourse, and prevent conviction, than doth this course, upon many \nobvious accounts.  It doth first put in a strong bar to attention:  \nfor no man willingly doth afford an ear to him whom he conceiveth \ndisaffected towards him:  which opinion harsh words infallibly will \nproduce; no man can expect to hear truth from him whom he \napprehendeth disordered in his own mind, whom he seeth rude in his \nproceedings, whom he taketh to be unjust in his dealing; as men \ncertainly will take those to be, who presume to revile others for \nusing their own judgment freely, and dissenting from them in \nopinion.  Again, this course doth blind the hearer's mind, so that \nhe cannot discern what he that pretends to instruct him doth mean, \nor how he doth assert his doctrine.  Truth will not be discerned \nthrough the smoke of wrathful expressions; right being defaced by \nfoul language will not appear, passion being excited will not suffer \na man to perceive the sense or the force of an argument.  The will \nalso thereby is hardened and hindered from submitting to truth.  In \nsuch a case, non persuadebis, etiamsi persuaseris; although you stop \nhis mouth, you cannot subdue his heart; although he can no longer \nfight, yet he never will yield:  animosity raised by such usage \nrendereth him invincibly obstinate in his conceits and courses.  \nBriefly, from this proceeding men become unwilling to mark, unfit to \napprehend, indisposed to embrace any good instruction or advice; it \nmaketh them indocile and intractable, averse from better \ninstruction, pertinacious in their opinions, and refractory in their \nways.\n\n\"Every man,\" saith the wise man, \"shall kiss his lips that giveth a \nright answer;\" but no man surely will be ready to kiss those lips \nwhich are embittered with reproach, or defiled with dirty language.\n\nIt is said of Pericles, that with thundering and lightning he put \nGreece into confusion; such discourse may serve to confound things, \nit seldom tendeth to compose them.  If reason will not pierce, rage \nwill scarce avail to drive it in.  Satirical virulency may vex men \nsorely, but it hardly ever soundly converts them.  \"Few become wiser \nor better by ill words.\"  Children may be frightened into compliance \nby loud and severe reprimands; but men are to be allured by rational \npersuasion backed with courteous usage; they may be sweetly drawn, \nthey cannot be violently driven to change their judgment and \npractice.  Whence that advice of the apostle, \"With meekness \ninstruct those that oppose themselves,\" doth no less savour of \nwisdom than of goodness.\n\nFifthly, as for examples of extraordinary persons, which in some \ncases do seem to authorise the practice of evil-speaking, we may \nconsider that, as they had especial commission enabling them to do \nsome things beyond ordinary standing rules, wherein they are not to \nbe imitated:  as they had especial illumination and direction, which \npreserved them from swerving in particular cases from truth and \nequity; so the tenor of their life did evidence that it was the \nglory of God, the good of men, the necessity of the case, which \nmoved them to it.  And of them also we may observe, that on divers \noccasions (yea, generally, whenever only their private credit or \ninterest was concerned), although grievously provoked, they did out \nof meekness, patience, and charity, wholly forbear reproachful \nspeech.  Our Saviour, who sometimes upon special reason in His \ndiscourses used such harsh words, yet when He was most spitefully \naccused, reproached, and persecuted, did not open His mouth, or \nreturn one angry word:  \"Being reviled, He did not,\" as St. Peter, \nproposing His example to us, telleth us, \"revile again; suffering, \nHe did not threaten.\"  He used the softest language to Judas, to the \nsoldiers, to Pilate and Herod, to the priests, etc.  And the \napostles, who sometimes inveigh so zealously against the opposers \nand perverters of truth, did in their private conversation and \ndemeanour strictly observe their own rules, of abstinence from \nreproach:  \"Being reviled, we bless; being persecuted, we suffer \nit;\" so doth St. Paul represent their practice.  And in reason we \nshould rather follow them in this their ordinary course, than in \ntheir extraordinary sallies of practice.\n\nIn fine, however in some cases and circumstances the matter may \nadmit such exceptions, so that all language disgraceful to our \nneighbour is not ever culpable; yet the cases are so few and rare in \ncomparison, the practice commonly so dangerous and ticklish, that \nworthily forbearing to reproach doth bear the style of a general \nrule; and particularly (for clearer direction) we are in the \nfollowing cases obliged carefully to shun it; or in speaking about \nour neighbour we must observe these cautions.\n\n1.  We should never in severe terms inveigh against any man without \nreasonable warrant, or presuming upon a good call and commission \nthereto.  As every man should not assume to himself the power of \nadministering justice (of trying, sentencing, and punishing \noffenders), so must not every man take upon him to speak against \nthose who seem to do ill; which is a sort of punishment, including \nthe infliction of smart and damage upon the persons concerned.  \nEvery man hath indeed a commission, in due place and season, with \ndiscretion and moderation to admonish his neighbour offending; but \notherwise to speak ill of him, no private man hath just right or \nauthority, and therefore, in presuming to do it, he is disorderly \nand irregular, trespassing beyond his bounds, usurping an undue \npower to himself.\n\n2.  We should never speak ill of any man without apparent just \ncause.  It must be just; we must not reproach men for things \ninnocent or indifferent; for not concurring in disputable opinions \nwith us, for not complying with our humour, for not serving our \ninterest, for not doing anything to which they are not obliged, or \nfor using their liberty in any case:  it must be at least some \nconsiderable fault, which we can so much as tax.  It must also be \nclear and certain, notorious and palpable; for to speak ill upon \nslender conjectures, or doubtful suspicions, is full of iniquity.  \n\"[Greek], \"They rail at things which they know not,\" is part of \nthose wicked men's character, whom St. Jude doth so severely \nreprehend.  If, indeed, these conditions being wanting, we presume \nto reproach any man, we do therein no less than slander him; which \nto do is unlawful in any case, is in truth a most diabolical and \ndetestable crime.  To impose odious names and characters on any \nperson, which he deserveth not, or without ground of truth, is to \nplay the devil; and hell itself scarce will own a fouler practice.\n\n3.  We should not cast reproach upon any man without some necessary \nreason.  In charity (that charity which \"covereth all sins,\" which \n\"covereth a multitude of sins\") we are bound to connive at the \ndefects, and to conceal the faults of our brethren; to extenuate and \nexcuse them, when apparent, so far as we may in truth and equity.  \nWe must not therefore ever produce them to light, or prosecute them \nwith severity, except very needful occasion urgeth--such as is the \nglory and service of God, the maintenance of truth, the vindication \nof innocence, the preservation of public justice and peace; the \namendment of our neighbour himself, or securing others from \ncontagion.  Barring such reasons (really being, not affectedly \npretended), we are bound not so much as to disclose, as to touch our \nneighbour's faults; much more, not to blaze them about, not to \nexaggerate them by vehement invectives.\n\n4.  We should never speak ill of any man beyond measure; be the \ncause never so just, the occasion never so necessary, we should yet \nnowise be immoderate therein, exceeding the bounds prescribed by \ntruth, equity, and humanity.  We should never speak worse of any man \nwhatever than he certainly deserveth, according to the most \nfavourable construction of his doings; never more than the cause \nabsolutely requireth.  We should rather be careful to fall short of \nwhat in rigorous truth might be said against him, than in the least \nto pass beyond it.  The best cause had better seem to suffer a \nlittle by our reservedness in its defence, than any man be wronged \nby our aspersing him; for God, the patron of truth and right, is \never able to secure them without the succour of our unjust and \nuncharitable dealing.  The contrary practice hath indeed within it a \nspice of slander, that is, of the worst iniquity.\n\n5.  We must never speak ill of any man out of bad principles, or for \nbad ends.\n\nNo sudden or rash anger should instigate us thereto.  For, \"Let all \nbitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamour, and evil-speaking be \nput away from you, with all malice,\" is the apostolical precept; \nthey are all associates and kindred, which are to be cast away \ntogether.  Such anger itself is culpable, as a work of the flesh, \nand therefore to be suppressed; and all its brood therefore is also \nto be smothered; the daughter of such a mother cannot be legitimate.  \n\"The wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of God.\"\n\nWe must not speak ill out of inveterate hatred or ill-will.  For \nthis murderous, this viperous disposition should itself be rooted \nout of our hearts:  whatever issueth from it cannot be otherwise \nthan very bad; it must be a poisonous breath that exhaleth from that \nfoul source.\n\nWe must not be provoked thereto by any revengeful disposition, or \nrancorous spleen, in regard to any injuries or discourtesies \nreceived.  For, as we must not revenge ourselves, or render evil in \nany other way, so particularly not in this, which is commonly the \nspecial instance expressly prohibited.  \"Render not evil for evil,\" \nsaith St. Peter, \"nor railing for railing; but contrariwise bless,\" \nor speak well; and \"Bless them,\" saith the Lord, \"which curse you;\" \n\"Bless,\" saith St. Paul, \"and curse not.\"\n\nWe must not also do it out of contempt; for we are not to slight our \nbrethren in our hearts.  No man really, considering what he is, \nwhence he came, how he is related, what he is capable of, can be \ndespicable.  Extreme naughtiness is indeed contemptible; but the \nunhappy person that is engaged therein is rather to be pitied than \ndespised.  However, charity bindeth us to stifle contemptuous \nmotions of heart, and not to vent them in vilifying expression.  \nParticularly, it is a barbarous practice, out of contempt to \nreproach persons for natural imperfections, for meanness of \ncondition, for unlucky disasters, for any involuntary defects; this \nbeing indeed to reproach mankind, unto which such things are \nincident; to reproach Providence, from the disposal whereof they do \nproceed.  \"Whoso mocketh the poor, despiseth his Maker,\" saith the \nwise man; and the same may be said of him that reproachfully mocketh \nhim that is dull in parts, deformed in body, weak in health or \nstrength, defective in any such way.\n\nLikewise we must not speak ill out of envy; because others do excel \nus in any good quality, or exceed us in fortune.  To harbour this \nbase and ugly disposition in our minds is unworthy of a man (who \nshould delight in all good springing up anywhere, and befalling any \nman, naturally allied unto him); it is most unworthy of a Christian, \nwho should tender his brother's good as his own, and rejoice with \nthose that rejoice.  From thence to be drawn to cast reproach upon \nany man, is horrible and heinous wickedness.\n\nNeither should we ever use reproach as a means of compassing any \ndesign we do affect or aim at; 'tis an unwarrantable engine of \nraising us to wealth, dignity, or repute.  To grow by the \ndiminution, to rise by the depression, to shine by the eclipse of \nothers, to build a fortune upon the ruins of our neighbour's \nreputation, is that which no honourable mind can affect, no honest \nman will endeavour.  Our own wit, courage, and industry, managed \nwith God's assistance and blessing, are sufficient, and only lawful \ninstruments of prosecuting honest enterprises; we need not, we must \nnot instead of them employ our neighbour's disgrace; no worldly good \nis worth purchasing at such a rate, no project worth achieving by \nsuch foul ways.\n\nNeither should we out of malignity, to cherish or gratify ill \nhumour, use this practice.  It is observable of some persons, that \nnot out of any formed displeasure, grudge, or particular \ndisaffection, nor out of any particular design, but merely out of a \n[Greek], an ill disposition, springing up from nature, or contracted \nby use, they are apt to carp at any action, and with sharp reproach \nto bite any man that comes in their way, thereby feeding and \nsoothing that evil inclination.  But as this inhuman and currish \nhumour should be corrected, and extirpated from our hearts; so \nshould the issues thereof at our mouths be stopped; the bespattering \nour neighbour's good name should never afford any satisfaction or \ndelight unto us.\n\nNor out of wantonness should we speak ill, for our divertisement or \nsport.  For our neighbour's reputation is too great and precious a \nthing to be played with, or offered up to sport; we are very foolish \nin so disvaluing it, very naughty in so misusing it.  Our wits are \nvery barren, our brains are ill furnished with store of knowledge, \nif we can find no other matter of conversation.\n\nNor out of negligence and inadvertency should we sputter out \nreproachful speech; shooting ill words at rovers, or not regarding \nwho stands in our way.  Among all temerities this is one of the most \nnoxious, and therefore very culpable.\n\nIn fine, we should never speak concerning our neighbour from any \nother principle than charity, or to any other intent but what is \ncharitable; such as tendeth to his good, or at least is consistent \ntherewith.  \"Let all your things,\" saith St. Paul, \"be done in \ncharity;\" and words are most of the THINGS we do concerning our \nneighbour, wherein we may express charity.  In all our speeches, \ntherefore, touching him, we should plainly show that we have a care \nof his reputation, that we tender his interest, that we even desire \nhis content and repose.  Even when reason and need do so require \nthat we should disclose and reprehend his faults, we may, we should \nby the manner and scope of our speech signify thus much.  Which \nrule, were it observed, if we should never speak ill otherwise than \nout of charity, surely most ill-speaking would be cut off; most, I \nfear, of our tattling about others, much of our gossiping would be \nmarred.\n\nIndeed, so far from bitter or sour our language should be, that it \nought to be sweet and pleasant; so far from rough and harsh, that it \nshould be courteous and obliging; so far from signifying wrath, ill-\nwill, contempt, or animosity, that it should express tender \naffection, good esteem, sincere respect towards our brethren; and be \napt to produce the like in them towards us.  The sense of them \nshould be grateful to the heart; the very sound and accent of them \nshould be delightful to the ear.  Every one should please his \nneighbour for his good to edification.  Our words should always be \n[Greek], with grace, seasoned with salt; they should have the grace \nof courtesy, they should be seasoned with the salt of discretion, so \nas to be sweet and savoury to the hearers.  Commonly ill language is \na certain sign of inward enmity and ill-will.  Good-will is wont to \nshow itself in good terms; it clotheth even its grief handsomely, \nand its displeasure carrieth favour in its face; its rigour is civil \nand gentle, tempered with pity for the faults and errors which it \ndisliketh, with the desire of their amendment and recovery whom it \nreprehendeth.  It would inflict no more evil than is necessary; it \nwould cure its neighbour's disease without exasperating his \npatience, troubling his modesty, or impairing his credit.  As it \nalways judgeth candidly, so it never condemneth extremely.\n\n\nII.  But so much for the explication of this precept, and the \ndirective part of our discourse.  I shall now briefly propound some \ninducements to the observance thereof.\n\n1.  Let us consider that nothing more than railing and reviling is \nopposite to the nature, and inconsistent with the tenor of our \nreligion; which (as even a heathen did observe of it) nil nisi \njustum suadet, et lene, doth recommend nothing but what is very just \nand mild; which propoundeth the practices of charity, meekness, \npatience, peaceableness, moderation, equity, alacrity, or good \nhumour, as its principal laws, and declareth them the chief fruits \nof the Divine spirit and grace; which chargeth us to curb and \ncompose all our passions; more particularly to restrain and repress \nanger, animosity, envy, malice, and such-like dispositions, as the \nfruits of carnality and corrupt lust; which consequently drieth up \nall the sources or dammeth up the sluices of bad language.  As it \ndoth above all things oblige us to bear no ill-will in our hearts, \nso it chargeth us to vent none with our mouths.\n\n2.  It is therefore often expressly condemned and prohibited as \nevil.  'Tis the property of the wicked; a character of those who \nwork iniquity, to \"whet their tongues like a sword, and bend their \nbows to shoot their arrows, even bitter words.\"\n\n3.  No practice hath more severe punishments denounced to it than \nthis.  The railer (and it is indeed a very proper and fit punishment \nfor him, he being exceedingly bad company) is to be banished out of \nall good society; thereto St. Paul adjudgeth him:  \"I have,\" saith \nhe, \"now written unto you, not to keep company, if any man that is \ncalled a brother be a fornicator, or covetous, or an idolater, or a \nrailer, or a drunkard, or an extortioner, with such an one not to \neat.\"  Ye see what company the railer hath in the text, and with \nwhat a crew of people he is coupled; but no good company he is \nallowed elsewhere; every good Christian should avoid him as a blot, \nand a pest of conversation; and finally he is sure to be excluded \nfrom the blessed society above in heaven; for \"neither thieves, nor \ncovetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners shall \ninherit the kingdom of God;\" and \"without\" (without the heavenly \ncity) \"are dogs,\" saith St. John in his Revelation; that is, those \nchiefly who out of currish spite or malignity do frowardly bark at \ntheir neighbours, or cruelly bite them with reproachful language.\n\n4.  If we look upon such language in its own nature, what is it but \na symptom of a foul, a weak, a disordered and a distempered mind?  \n'Tis the smoke of inward rage and malice:  'tis a stream that cannot \nissue from a sweet spring; 'tis a storm that cannot bluster out of a \ncalm region.  \"The words of the pure are pleasant words,\" as the \nwise man saith.\n\n5.  This practice doth plainly signify low spirit, ill-breeding, and \nbad manners; and thence misbecometh any wise, any honest, any \nhonourable person.  It agreeth to children, who are unapt and \nunaccustomed to deal in matters considerable, to squabble; to women \nof meanest rank (apt, by nature, or custom, to be transported with \npassion) to scold.  In our modern languages it is termed villainy, \nas being proper for rustic boors, or men of coarsest education and \nemployment; who, having their minds debased by being conversant in \nmeanest affairs, do vent their sorry passions, and bicker about \ntheir petty concernments, in such strains; who also, being not \ncapable of a fair reputation, or sensible of disgrace to themselves, \ndo little value the credit of others, or care for aspersing it.  But \nsuch language is unworthy of those persons, and cannot easily be \ndrawn from them, who are wont to exercise their thoughts about \nnobler matters, who are versed in affairs manageable only by calm \ndeliberation and fair persuasion, not by impetuous and provocative \nrudeness; which do never work otherwise upon masculine souls than so \nas to procure disdain and resistance.  Such persons, knowing the \nbenefit of a good name, being wont to possess a good repute, prizing \ntheir own credit as a considerable good, will never be prone to \nbereave others of the like by opprobrious speech.  A noble enemy \nwill never speak of his enemy in bad terms.\n\nWe may further consider that all wise, all honest, all ingenuous \npersons have an aversion from ill-speaking, and cannot entertain it \nwith any acceptance or complacence; that only ill-natured, unworthy, \nand naughty people are its willing auditors, or do abet it with \napplause.  The good man, in Psalm xv., non accipit opprobrium, doth \nnot take up, or accept, a reproach against his neighbour:  \"but a \nwicked doer,\" saith the wise man, \"giveth heed to false lips, and a \nliar giveth ear to a naughty tongue.\"  And what reasonable man will \ndo that which is disgustful to the wise and good, is grateful only \nto the foolish and baser sort of men?  I pretermit that using this \nsort of language doth incapacitate a man for benefiting his \nneighbour, and defeateth his endeavours for his edification, \ndisparaging a good cause, prejudicing the defence of truth, \nobstructing the effects of good instruction and wholesome reproof; \nas we did before remark and declare.  Further--\n\n6.  He that useth this kind of speech doth, as harm and trouble \nothers, so create many great inconveniences and mischiefs to himself \nthereby.  Nothing so inflameth the wrath of men, so provoketh their \nenmity, so breedeth lasting hatred and spite, as do contumelious \nwords.  They are often called swords and arrows; and as such they \npierce deeply, and cause most grievous smart; which men feeling are \nenraged, and accordingly will strive to requite them in the like \nmanner and in all other obvious ways of revenge.  Hence strife, \nclamour, and tumult, care, suspicion, and fear, danger and trouble, \nsorrow and regret, do seize on the reviler; and he is sufficiently \npunished for this dealing.  No man can otherwise live than in \nperpetual fear of reciprocal like usage from him whom he is \nconscious of having so abused.  Whence, if not justice, or charity \ntowards others, yet love and pity of ourselves should persuade us to \nforbear it as disquietful, incommodious, and mischievous to us.\n\nWe should indeed certainly enjoy much love, much concord, much \nquiet, we should live in great safety and security, we should be \nexempted from much care and fear, if we would restrain ourselves \nfrom abusing and offending our neighbour in this kind:  being \nconscious of so just and innocent demeanour towards him, we should \nconverse with him in a pleasant freedom and confidence, not \nsuspecting any bad language or ill usage from him.\n\n7.  Hence with evidently good reason is he that useth such language \ncalled a fool:  and he that abstaineth from it is commended as wise.  \n\"A fool's lips enter into contention, and his mouth calleth for \nstrokes.  A fool's mouth is his destruction, and his lips are the \nsnare of his soul.  He that refraineth his tongue is wise.  In the \ntongue of the wise is health.  He that keepeth his lips, keepeth his \nlife:  but he that openeth wide his mouth\" (that is, in evil-\nspeaking, gaping with clamour and vehemency) \"shall have \ndestruction.  The words of a wise man's mouth are gracious:  but the \nlips of a fool will swallow up himself.  Death and life are in the \npower of the tongue; and they that love it shall eat the fruit \nthereof;\" that is, of the one or the other, answerably to the kind \nof speech they choose.\n\nIn fine, very remarkable is that advice, or resolution of the grand \npoint concerning the best way of living happily, in the psalmist:  \n\"What man is he that desireth life, and loveth many days, that he \nmay see good?  Keep thy tongue from evil, and thy lips from speaking \nguile.\"  Abstinence from ill-speaking he seemeth to propose as the \nfirst step towards the fruition of a durably happy life.\n\n8.  Lastly, we may consider that it is a grievous perverting of the \ndesign of speech, that excellent faculty, which so much \ndistinguisheth us from, so highly advanceth us above other \ncreatures, to use it to the defaming and disquieting of our \nneighbour.  It was given us as an instrument of beneficial commerce \nand delectable conversation; that with it we might assist and \nadvise, might cheer and comfort one another:  we, therefore, in \nemploying it to the disgrace, vexation, damage or prejudice in any \nkind of our neighbour, do foully abuse it; and so doing, render \nourselves indeed worse than dumb beasts:  for better far it were \nthat we could say nothing, than that we should speak ill.\n\n\"Now the God of grace and peace .  . . make us perfect in every good \nwork to do His will, working in us that which is well-pleasing in \nHis sight, through Jesus Christ; to whom be glory for ever and ever.  \nAmen.\"\n\n\n\nTHE FOLLY OF SLANDER.\n\n\n\nPart 1.\n\n\"He that uttereth slander is a fool.\"--Prov. x. 18.\n\nGeneral declamations against vice and sin are indeed excellently \nuseful, as rousing men to consider and look about them:  but they do \noften want effect, because they only raise confused apprehensions of \nthings, and indeterminate propensions to action; which usually, \nbefore men thoroughly perceive or resolve what they should practise, \ndo decay and vanish.  As he that cries out \"Fire!\" doth stir up \npeople, and inspireth them with a kind of hovering tendency every \nway, yet no man thence to purpose moveth until he be distinctly \ninformed where the mischief is; then do they, who apprehend \nthemselves concerned, run hastily to oppose it:  so, till we \nparticularly discern where our offences lie (till we distinctly know \nthe heinous nature and the mischievous consequences of them), we \nscarce will effectually apply ourselves to correct them.  Whence it \nis requisite that men should be particularly acquainted with their \nsins, and by proper arguments be dissuaded from them.\n\nIn order whereto I have now selected one sin to describe, and \ndissuade from, being in nature as vile, and in practice as common, \nas any other whatever that hath prevailed among men.  It is slander, \na sin which in all times and places hath been epidemical and rife; \nbut which especially doth seem to reign and rage in our age and \ncountry.\n\nThere are principles innate to men, which ever have, and ever will \nincline them to this offence.  Eager appetites to secular and \nsensual goods; violent passions, urging the prosecution of what men \naffect; wrath and displeasure against those who stand in the way of \ncompassing their desires; emulation and envy towards those who \nhappen to succeed better, or to attain a greater share in such \nthings; excessive self-love; unaccountable malignity and vanity, are \nin some degrees connatural to all men, and ever prompt them to this \ndealing, as appearing the most efficacious, compendious, and easy \nway of satisfying such appetites, of promoting such designs, of \ndischarging such passions.  Slander thence hath always been a \nprincipal engine whereby covetous, ambitious, envious, ill-natured, \nand vain persons have striven to supplant their competitors, and \nadvance themselves; meaning thereby to procure, what they chiefly \nprize and like, wealth, or dignity, or reputation, favour and power \nin the court, respect and interest with the people.\n\nBut from especial causes our age peculiarly doth abound in this \npractice; for, besides the common dispositions inclining thereto, \nthere are conceits newly coined, and greedily entertained by many, \nwhich seem purposely levelled at the disparagement of piety, \ncharity, and justice, substituting interest in the room of \nconscience, authorising and commending for good and wise, all ways \nserving to private advantage.  There are implacable dissensions, \nfierce animosities, and bitter zeals sprung up; there is an extreme \ncuriosity, niceness, and delicacy of judgment:  there is a mighty \naffectation of seeming wise and witty by any means; there is a great \nunsettlement of mind, and corruption of manners, generally diffused \nover people:  from which sources it is no wonder that this flood \nhath so overflown, that no banks can restrain it, no fences are able \nto resist it; so that ordinary conversation is full of it, and no \ndemeanour can be secure from it.\n\nIf we do mark what is done in many (might I not say, in most?) \ncompanies, what is it but one telling malicious stories of, or \nfastening odious characters upon another?  What do men commonly \nplease themselves in so much, as in carping and harshly censuring, \nin defaming and abusing their neighbours?  Is it not the sport and \ndivertisement of many, to cast dirt in the faces of all they meet \nwith; to bespatter any man with foul imputations?  Doth not in every \ncorner a Momus lurk, from the venom of whose spiteful or petulant \ntongue no eminency of rank, dignity of place, or sacredness of \noffice, no innocence or integrity of life, no wisdom or \ncircumspection in behaviour, no good-nature or benignity in dealing \nand carriage, can protect any person?  Do not men assume to \nthemselves a liberty of telling romances, and framing characters \nconcerning their neighbour, as freely as a poet doth about Hector or \nTurnus, Thersites or Draucus?  Do they not usurp a power of playing \nwith, or tossing about, of tearing in pieces their neighbour's good \nname, as if it were the veriest toy in the world?  Do not many \nhaving a form of godliness (some of them, demurely, others \nconfidently, both without any sense of, or remorse for what they do) \nbackbite their brethren?  Is it not grown so common a thing to \nasperse causelessly that no man wonders at it, that few dislike, \nthat scarce any detest it? that most notorious calumniators are \nheard, not only with patience, but with pleasure; yea, are even held \nin vogue and reverence as men of a notable talent, and very \nserviceable to their party? so that slander seemeth to have lost its \nnature, and not to be now an odious sin, but a fashionable humour, a \nway of pleasing entertainment, a fine knack, or curious feat of \npolicy; so that no man at least taketh himself or others to be \naccountable for what is said in this way?  Is not, in fine, the case \nbecome such, that whoever hath in him any love of truth, any sense \nof justice or honesty, any spark of charity towards his brethren, \nshall hardly be able to satisfy himself in the conversations he \nmeeteth; but will be tempted, with the holy prophet, to wish himself \nsequestered from society, and cast into solitude; repeating those \nwords of his, \"Oh, that I had in the wilderness a lodging-place of \nwayfaring men, that I might leave my people, and go from them:  for \nthey are . . . . an assembly of treacherous men, and they bend their \ntongues like their bow for lies\"?  This he wished in an age so \nresembling ours, that I fear the description with equal patness may \nsuit both:  \"Take ye heed\" (said he then, and may we not advise the \nlike now?) \"every one of his neighbour, and trust ye not in any \nbrother:  for every brother will utterly supplant, and every \nneighbour will walk with slanders.  They will deceive every one his \nneighbour, and will not speak the truth; they have taught their \ntongue to speak lies, and weary themselves to commit iniquity.\"\n\nSuch being the state of things, obvious to experience, no discourse \nmay seem more needful, or more useful, than that which serveth to \ncorrect or check this practice:  which I shall endeavour to do (1) \nby describing the nature, (2) by declaring the folly of it:  or \nshowing it to be very true which the wise man here asserteth, \"He \nthat uttereth slander is a fool.\"  Which particulars I hope so to \nprosecute, that any man shall be able easily to discern, and ready \nheartily to detest this practice.\n\n\nI.  For explication of its nature, we may describe slander to be the \nuttering false (or equivalent to false, morally false) speech \nagainst our neighbour, in prejudice to his fame, his safety, his \nwelfare, or concernment in any kind, out of malignity, vanity, \nrashness, ill-nature, or bad design.  That which is in Holy \nScripture forbidden and reproved under several names and notions:  \nof bearing false witness, false accusation, railing censure, \nsycophantry, tale-bearing, whispering, backbiting, supplanting, \ntaking up reproach:  which terms some of them do signify the nature, \nothers denote the special kinds, others imply the manners, others \nsuggest the ends of this practice.  But it seemeth most fully \nintelligible by observing the several kinds and degrees thereof; as \nalso by reflecting on the divers ways and manners of practising it.\n\nThe principal kinds thereof I observe to be these:\n\n1.  The grossest kind of slander is that which in the Decalogue is \ncalled, bearing false testimony against our neighbour; that is, \nflatly charging him with facts which he never committed, and is \nnowise guilty of.  As in the case of Naboth, when men were suborned \nto say, \"Naboth did blaspheme God and the king:\" and as was David's \ncase, when he thus complained, \"False witnesses did rise up, they \nlaid to my charge things that I knew not of.\"  This kind in the \nhighest way (that is, in judicial proceedings) is more rare; and of \nall men, they who are detected to practise it, are held most vile \nand infamous; as being plainly the most pernicious and perilous \ninstruments of injustice, the most desperate enemies of all men's \nright and safety that can be.  But also out of the court there are \nmany knights-errant of the post, whose business it is to run about \nscattering false reports; sometimes loudly proclaiming them in open \ncompanies, sometimes closely whispering them in dark corners; thus \ninfecting conversation with their poisonous breath:  these no less \nnotoriously are guilty of this kind, as bearing always the same \nmalice, and sometimes breeding as ill effects.\n\n2.  Another kind is, affixing scandalous names, injurious epithets, \nand odious characters upon persons, which they deserve not.  As when \nCorah and his accomplices did accuse Moses of being ambitious, \nunjust, and tyrannical:  when the Pharisees called our Lord an \nimpostor, a blasphemer, a sorcerer, a glutton and wine-bibber, an \nincendiary and perverter of the people, one that spake against \nCaesar, and forbade to give tribute:  when the apostles were charged \nwith being pestilent, turbulent, factious and seditious fellows.  \nThis sort being very common, and thence in ordinary repute not so \nbad, yet in just estimation may be judged, even worse than the \nformer; as doing to our neighbour more heavy and more irreparable \nwrong.  For it imposeth on him really more blame, and that such \nwhich he can hardly shake off:  because the charge signifieth habit \nof evil, and includeth many acts; then, being general and \nindefinite, can scarce be disproved.  He, for instance, that calleth \na sober man drunkard, doth impute to him many acts of such \nintemperance (some really past, others probably future), and no \nparticular time or place being specified, how can a man clear \nhimself of that imputation, especially with those who are not \nthoroughly acquainted with his conversation?  So he that calleth a \nman unjust, proud, perverse, hypocritical, doth load him with most \ngrievous faults, which it is not possible that the most innocent \nperson should discharge himself from.\n\n3.  Like to that kind is this:  aspersing a man's actions with harsh \ncensures and foul terms, importing that they proceed from ill \nprinciples, or tend to bad ends; so as it doth not or cannot appear.  \nThus when we say of him that is generously hospitable, that he is \nprofuse; of him that is prudently frugal, that he is niggardly; of \nhim that is cheerful and free in his conversation, that he is vain \nor loose; of him that is serious and resolute in a good way, that he \nis sullen or morose; of him that is conspicuous and brisk in \nvirtuous practice, that it is ambition or ostentation which prompts \nhim; of him that is close and bashful in the like good way, that it \nis sneaking stupidity, or want of spirit; of him that is reserved, \nthat it is craft; of him that is open, that it is simplicity in him; \nwhen we ascribe a man's liberality and charity to vainglory, or \npopularity; his strictness of life, and constancy, in devotion, to \nsuperstition, or hypocrisy.  When, I say, we pass such censures, or \nimpose such characters on the laudable or innocent practice of our \nneighbours, we are indeed slanderers, imitating therein the great \ncalumniator, who thus did slander even God Himself, imputing His \nprohibition of the fruit unto envy towards men; \"God,\" said he, \n\"doth know that in the day ye eat thereof, your eyes shall be \nopened, and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil;\" who thus \ndid ascribe the steady piety of Job, not to a conscientious love and \nfear of God, but to policy and selfish design:  \"Doth Job fear God \nfor nought?\"\n\nWhoever, indeed, pronounceth concerning his neighbour's intentions \notherwise than as they are evidently expressed by words, or \nsignified by overt actions, is a slanderer; because he pretendeth to \nknow, and dareth to aver, that which he nowise possibly can tell \nwhether it be true; because the heart is exempt from all \njurisdiction here, is only subject to the government and trial of \nanother world; because no man can judge concerning the truth of such \naccusations, because no man can exempt or defend himself from them:  \nso that apparently such practice doth thwart all course of justice \nand equity.\n\n4.  Another kind is, perverting a man's words or actions \ndisadvantageously by affected misconstruction.  All words are \nambiguous, and capable of different senses, some fair, some more \nfoul; all actions have two handles, one that candour and charity \nwill, another that disingenuity and spite may lay hold on; and in \nsuch cases to misapprehend is a calumnious procedure, arguing \nmalignant disposition and mischievous design.  Thus when two men did \nwitness that our Lord affirmed, He \"could demolish the temple, and \nrear it again in three days\"--although He did indeed speak words to \nthat purpose, meaning them in a figurative sense, discernible enough \nto those who would candidly have minded His drift and way of \nspeaking--yet they who crudely alleged them against Him are called \nfalse witnesses.  \"At last,\" saith the Gospel, \"came two false \nwitnesses, and said, This fellow said, I am able to destroy the \ntemple,\" etc.  Thus also when some certified of St. Stephen, as \nhaving said that \"Jesus of Nazareth should destroy that place, and \nchange the customs that Moses delivered;\" although probably he did \nspeak words near to that purpose, yet are those men called false \nwitnesses:  \"And,\" saith St. Luke, \"they set up false witnesses, \nwhich said, This man ceaseth not to speak blasphemous words,\" etc.  \nWhich instances plainly do show, if we would avoid the guilt of \nslander, how careful we should be to interpret fairly and favourably \nthe words and the actions of our neighbour.\n\n5.  Another sort of this practice is, partial and lame \nrepresentation of men's discourse, or their practice; suppressing \nsome part of the truth in them, or concealing some circumstances \nabout them which might serve to explain, to excuse, or to extenuate \nthem.  In such a manner easily, without uttering any logical \nuntruth, one may yet grievously calumniate.  Thus suppose a man \nspeaketh a thing upon supposition, or with exception, or in way of \nobjection, or merely for disputation sake, in order to the \ndiscussion or clearing of truth; he that should report him asserting \nit absolutely, unlimitedly, positively and peremptorily, as his own \nsettled judgment, would notoriously calumniate.  If one should be \ninveigled by fraud, or driven by violence, or slip by chance into a \nbad place or bad company, he that should so represent the gross of \nthat accident, as to breed an opinion of that person, that out of \npure disposition and design he did put himself there, doth \nslanderously abuse that innocent person.  The reporter in such cases \nmust not think to defend himself by pretending that he spake nothing \nfalse; for such propositions, however true in logic, may justly be \ndeemed lies in morality, being uttered with a malicious and \ndeceitful (that is, with a calumnious) mind, being apt to impress \nfalse conceits and to produce hurtful effects concerning our \nneighbour.  There are slanderous truths as well as slanderous \nfalsehoods:  when truth is uttered with a deceitful heart, and to a \nbase end, it becomes a lie.  \"He that speaketh truth,\" saith the \nwise man, \"showeth forth righteousness:  but a false witness \ndeceit.\"  Deceiving is the proper work of slander:  and truth abused \nto that end putteth on its nature, and will engage into like guilt.\n\n6.  Another kind of calumny is, by instilling sly suggestions; which \nalthough they do not downrightly assert falsehoods, yet they breed \nsinister opinions in the hearers; especially in those who, from \nweakness or credulity, from jealousy or prejudice, from negligence \nor inadvertency, are prone to entertain them.  This is done many \nways:  by propounding wily suppositions, shrewd insinuations, crafty \nquestions, and specious comparisons, intimating a possibility, or \ninferring some likelihood of, and thence inducing to believe the \nfact.  \"Doth not,\" saith this kind of slanderer, \"his temper incline \nhim to do thus? may not his interest have swayed him thereto? had he \nnot fair opportunity and strong temptation to it? hath he not acted \nso in like cases?  Judge you therefore whether he did it not.\"  Thus \nthe close slanderer argueth; and a weak or prejudiced person is \nthereby so caught, that he presently is ready thence to conclude the \nthing done.  Again:  \"He doeth well,\" saith the sycophant, \"it is \ntrue; but why, and to what end?  Is it not, as most men do, out of \nill design? may he not dissemble now? may he not recoil hereafter? \nhave not others made as fair a show? yet we know what came of it.\"  \nThus do calumnious tongues pervert the judgments of men to think ill \nof the most innocent, and meanly of the worthiest actions.  Even \ncommendation itself is often used calumniously, with intent to breed \ndislike and ill-will towards a person commended in envious or \njealous ears; or so as to give passage to dispraises, and render the \naccusations following more credible.  'Tis an artifice commonly \nobserved to be much in use there, where the finest tricks of \nsupplanting are practised, with greatest effect; so that pessimum \ninimicorum genus, laudantes; there is no more pestilent enemy than a \nmalevolent praiser.  All these kinds of dealing, as they issue from \nthe principles of slander, and perform its work, so they deservedly \nbear the guilt thereof.\n\n7.  A like kind is that of oblique and covert reflections; when a \nman doth not directly or expressly charge his neighbour with faults, \nbut yet so speaketh that he is understood, or reasonably presumed to \ndo it.  This is a very cunning and very mischievous way of \nslandering; for therein the skulking calumniator keepeth a reserve \nfor himself, and cutteth off from the person concerned the means of \ndefence.  If he goeth to clear himself from the matter of such \naspersions:  \"What need,\" saith this insidious speaker, \"of that? \nmust I needs mean you? did I name you? why do you then assume it to \nyourself? do you not prejudge yourself guilty?  I did not, but your \nown conscience, it seemeth, doth accuse you.  You are so jealous and \nsuspicious, as persons overwise or guilty use to be.\"  So meaneth \nthis serpent out of the hedge securely and unavoidably to bite his \nneighbour, and is in that respect more base and more hurtful than \nthe most flat and positive slanderer.\n\n8.  Another kind is that of magnifying and aggravating the faults of \nothers; raising any small miscarriage into a heinous crime, any \nslender defect into an odious vice, and any common infirmity into a \nstrange enormity; turning a small \"mote in the eye\" of our neighbour \ninto a huge \"beam,\" a little dimple in his face into a monstrous \nwen.  This is plainly slander, at least in degree, and according to \nthe surplusage whereby the censure doth exceed the fault.  As he \nthat, upon the score of a small debt, doth extort a great sum, is no \nless a thief, in regard to what amounts beyond his due, than if \nwithout any pretence he had violently or fraudulently seized on it:  \nso he is a slanderer that, by heightening faults or imperfections, \ndoth charge his neighbour with greater blame, or load him with more \ndisgrace than he deserves.  'Tis not only slander to pick a hole \nwhere there is none, but to make that wider which is, so that it \nappeareth more ugly, and cannot so easily be mended.  For charity is \nwont to extenuate faults, justice doth never exaggerate them.  As no \nman is exempt from some defects, or can live free from some \nmisdemeanours, so by this practice every man may be rendered very \nodious and infamous.\n\n9.  Another kind of slander is, imputing to our neighbour's \npractice, judgment, or profession, evil consequences (apt to render \nhim odious, or despicable) which have no dependence on them, or \nconnection with them.  There do in every age occur disorders and \nmishaps, springing from various complications of causes, working \nsome of them in a more open and discernible, others in a more secret \nand subtle way (especially from Divine judgment and providence \nchecking or chastising sin):  from such occurrences it is common to \nsnatch occasion and matter of calumny.  Those who are disposed this \nway, are ready peremptorily to charge them upon whomsoever they \ndislike or dissent from, although without any apparent cause, or \nupon most frivolous and senseless pretences; yea, often when reason \nshoweth quite the contrary, and they who are so charged are in just \nesteem of all men the least obnoxious to such accusations.  So \nusually the best friends of mankind, those who most heartily wish \nthe peace and prosperity of the world and most earnestly to their \npower strive to promote them, have all the disturbances and \ndisasters happening charged on them by those fiery vixens, who (in \npursuance of their base designs, or gratification of their wild \npassions) really do themselve embroil things, and raise miserable \ncombustions in the world.  So it is that they who have the \nconscience to do mischief, will have the confidence also to disavow \nthe blame and the iniquity, to lay the burden of it on those who are \nmost innocent.  Thus, whereas nothing more disposeth men to live \norderly and peaceably, nothing more conduceth to the settlement and \nsafety of the public, nothing so much draweth blessings down from \nheaven upon the commonwealth, as true religion; yet nothing hath \nbeen more ordinary than to attribute all the miscarriages and \nmischiefs that happened unto it; even those are laid at his door, \nwhich plainly do arise from the contempt or neglect of it; being the \nnatural fruits or the just punishments of irreligion.  King Ahab by \nforsaking God's commandments, and following wicked superstitions, \nhad troubled Israel, drawing sore judgments and calamities thereon; \nyet had he the heart and the face to charge those events on the \ngreat assertor of piety, Elias:  \"Art thou he that troubleth \nIsrael?\"  The Jews by provocation of Divine justice had set \nthemselves in a fair way towards desolation and ruin; this event to \ncome they had the presumption to lay upon the faith of our Lord's \ndoctrine:  \"If,\" said they, \"we let Him alone, all men will believe \non Him, and the Romans shall come, and take away our place and \nnation:\" whereas, in truth, a compliance with His directions and \nadmonitions had been the only means to prevent those presaged \nmischiefs.  And, si Tibris ascenderit in maenia, if any public \ncalamity did appear, then Christianos ad leones, Christians must be \ncharged and persecuted as the causes thereof.  To them it was that \nJulian and other pagans did impute all the concussions, confusions, \nand devastations falling upon the Roman Empire.  The sacking of Rome \nby the Goths they cast upon Christianity; for the vindication of it \nfrom which reproach St. Austin did write those renowned books de \nCivitate Dei.  So liable are the best and most innocent sort of men \nto be calumniously accused in this manner.\n\nAnother practice (worthily bearing the guilt of slander) is, aiding \nand being accessory thereto, by anywise furthering, cherishing, \nabetting it.  He that by crafty significations of ill-will doth \nprompt the slanderer to vent his poison; he that by a willing \naudience and attention doth readily suck it up, or who greedily \nswalloweth it down by credulous approbation and assent; he that \npleasingly relisheth and smacketh at it, or expresseth a delightful \ncomplacence therein:  as he is a partner in the fact, so he is a \nsharer in the guilt.  There are not only slanderous throats, but \nslanderous ears also; not only wicked inventions, which engender and \nbrood lies, but wicked assents, which hatch and foster them.  Not \nonly the spiteful mother that conceiveth such spurious brats, but \nthe midwife that helpeth to bring them forth, the nurse that feedeth \nthem, the guardian that traineth them up to maturity, and setteth \nthem forth to live in the world; as they do really contribute to \ntheir subsistence, so deservedly they partake in the blame due to \nthem, and must be responsible for the mischief they do.  For indeed \nwere it not for such free entertainers, such nourishers, such \nencouragers of them, slanderers commonly would die in the womb, or \nprove still-born, or presently entering into the cold air, would \nexpire, or for want of nourishment soon would starve.  It is such \nfriends and patrons of them who are the causes that they are so \nrife; they it is who set ill-natured, base, and designing people \nupon devising, searching after, and picking up malicious and idle \nstories.  Were it not for such customers, the trade of calumniating \nwould fall.  Many pursue it merely out of servility and flattery, to \ntickle the ears, to soothe the humour, to gratify the malignant \ndisposition or ill-will of others; who upon the least discouragement \nwould give over the practice.  If therefore we would exempt \nourselves from all guilt of slander, we must not only abstain from \nventing it, but forbear to regard or countenance it:  for \"he is,\" \nsaith the wise man, \"a wicked doer who giveth heed to false lips, \nand a liar who giveth ear to a naughty tongue.\"  Yea, if we \nthoroughly would be clear from it, we must show an aversion from \nhearing it, an unwillingness to believe it, an indignation against \nit; so either stifling it in the birth, or condemning it to death, \nbeing uttered.  This is the sure way to destroy it, and to prevent \nits mischief.  If we would stop our ears, we should stop the \nslanderer's mouth; if we would resist the calumniator, he would fly \nfrom us; if we would reprove him, we should repel him.  For, \"as the \nnorth wind driveth away rain, so,\" the wise man telleth us, \"doth an \nangry countenance a backbiting tongue.\"\n\nThese are the chief and most common kinds of slander; and there are \nseveral ways of practising them worthy our observing, that we may \navoid them, namely these:--\n\n1.  The most notoriously heinous way is, forging and immediately \nventing ill stories.  As it is said of Doeg, \"Thy tongue deviseth \nmischief;\" and of another like companion, \"Thou givest thy mouth to \nevil, and thy tongue frameth deceit;\" and as our Lord saith of the \ndevil, \"When he speaketh a lie, [Greek], he speaketh of his own; for \nhe is a liar, and the father of it.\"  This palpably is the supreme \npitch of calumny, incapable of any qualifications or excuse:  hell \ncannot go beyond this; the cursed fiend himself cannot worse employ \nhis wit than in minting wrongful falsehoods.\n\n2.  Another way is, receiving from others, and venting such stories, \nwhich they who do it certainly know or may reasonably presume to be \nfalse; the becoming hucksters of counterfeit wares, or factors in \nthis vile trade.  There is no false coiner who hath not some \naccomplices and emissaries ready to take from his hand and put off \nhis money; and such slanderers at second hand are scarce less guilty \nthan the first authors.  He that breweth lies may have more wit and \nskill, but the broacher showeth the like malice and wickedness.  In \nthis there is no great difference between the great devil, that \nframeth scandalous reports, and the little imps that run about and \ndisperse them.\n\n3.  Another way is, when one without competent examination, due \nweighing, and just reason, doth admit and spread tales prejudicial \nto his neighbour's welfare; relying for his warrant, as to the truth \nof them, upon any slight or slender authority.  This is a very \ncommon and current practice:  men presume it lawful enough to say \nover whatever they hear; to report anything, if they can quote an \nauthor for it.  \"It is not,\" say they, \"my invention; I tell it as I \nheard it:  sit fides penes authorem; let him that informed me \nundergo the blame if it prove false.\"  So do they conceive \nthemselves excusable for being the instruments of injurious disgrace \nand damage to their neighbours.  But they greatly mistake therein; \nfor as this practice commonly doth arise from the same wicked \nprinciples, at least in some degree, and produceth altogether the \nlike mischievous effects, as the wilful devising and conveying \nslander:  so it no less thwarteth the rules of duty, the laws of \nequity; God hath prohibited it, and reason doth condemn it.  \"Thou \nshalt not,\" saith God in the Law, \"go up and down as a tale-bearer \namong thy people:\" as a talebearer (as Rachil, that is), as a \nmerchant or trader in ill reports and stories concerning our \nneighbour, to his prejudice.  Not only the framing of them, but the \ndealing in them beyond reason or necessity, is interdicted.  And it \nis part of a good man's character in Psalm xv., Non accipit \nopprobrium, \"He taketh not up a reproach against his neighbour;\" \nthat is, he doth not easily entertain it, much less doth he \neffectually propagate it:  and in our text, \"He,\" it is said, \"that \nuttereth slander\" (not only he that conceiveth it) \"is a fool.\"\n\nAnd in reason, before exact trial and cognisance, to meddle with the \nfame and interest of another, is evidently a practice full of \niniquity, such as no man can allow in his own case, or brook being \nused towards himself without judging himself to be extremely abused \nby such reporters.  In all reason and equity, yea, in all \ndiscretion, before we yield credence to any report concerning our \nneighbour, or venture to relate it, many things are carefully to be \nweighed and scanned.  We should, concerning our author, consider \nwhether he be not a particular enemy, or disaffected to him:  \nwhether he be not ill-humoured, or a delighter in telling bad \nstories; whether he be not dishonest, or unregardful of justice in \nhis dealings and discourse; whether he be not vain, or careless of \nwhat he saith; whether he be not light or credulous, or apt to be \nimposed upon by any small appearance; whether, at least in the \npresent case, he be not negligent, or too forward and rash in \nspeaking.  We should also, concerning the matter reported, mind \nwhether it be possible or probable; whether suitable to the \ndisposition of our neighbour, to his principles, to the constant \ntenor of his practice; whether the action imputed to him be not \nliable to misapprehension, or his words to misconstruction.  All \nreason and equity do, I say, exact from us, diligently to consider \nsuch things, before we do either embrace ourselves or transmit unto \nothers any story concerning our neighbour; lest unadvisedly we do \nhim irreparable wrong and mischief.  Briefly, we should take his \ncase for our own, and consider whether we ourselves should be \ncontent that upon like grounds or testimonies any man should \nbelieve, or report, disgraceful things concerning us.  If we fail to \ndo thus, we do, vainly, or rashly, or maliciously, conspire with the \nslanderer to the wrong of our innocent neighbour; and that in the \npsalmist, by a parity of reason, may be transferred to us, \"Thou \nhast consented unto the liar, and hast partaken with the\" author of \ncalumny.\n\n4.  Of kin to this way is the assenting to popular rumours, and \nthence affirming matters of obloquy to our neighbour.  Every one by \nexperience knows how easily false news do rise, and how nimbly they \nscatter themselves; how often they are raised from nothing, how soon \nthey from small sparks grow into a great blaze, how easily from one \nthing they are transformed into another; especially news of this \nkind, which do suit and feed the bad humour of the vulgar.  'Tis \nobvious to any man how true that is of Tacitus, how void of \nconsideration, of judgment, of equity, the busy and talking part of \nmankind is.  Whoever therefore gives heed to flying tales, and \nthrusts himself into the herd of those who spread them, is either \nstrangely injudicious, or very malignantly disposed.  If he want not \njudgment, he cannot but know that when he complieth with popular \nfame, it is mere chance that he doth not slander, or rather it is \nodds that he shall do so; he consequently showeth himself to be \nindifferent whether he doeth it or no, or rather that he doth \nincline to do it; whence, not caring to be otherwise, or loving to \nbe a slanderer, he in effect and just esteem is such; having at \nleast a slanderous heart and inclination.  He that puts it to the \nventure whether he lieth or no, doth eo ipso lie morally, as \ndeclaring no care or love of truth.  \"Thou shalt not,\" saith the \nLaw, \"follow a multitude to do evil;\" and with like reason we should \nnot follow the multitude in speaking evil of our neighbour.\n\n5.  Another slanderous course is, to build censures and reproaches \nupon slender conjectures, or uncertain suspicions (those [Greek], \nevil surmises, which St. Paul condemneth).  Of these occasion can \nnever be wanting to them who seek them, or are ready to embrace \nthem; no innocence, no wisdom can anywise prevent them; and if they \nmay be admitted as grounds of defamation, no man's good name can be \nsecure.  But he that upon such accounts dareth to asperse his \nneighbour is in moral computation no less a slanderer than if he did \nthe like out of pure invention, or without any ground at all:  for \ndoubtful and false in this case differ little; to devise, and to \ndivine, in matters of this nature, do import near the same.  He that \nwill judge or speak ill of others, ought to be well assured of what \nhe thinks or says; he that asserteth that which he doth not know to \nbe true, doth as well lie as he that affirmeth that which he knoweth \nto be false; for he deceiveth the hearers, begetting in them an \nopinion that he is assured of what he affirms; especially in dealing \nwith the concernments of others, whose right and repute justice doth \noblige us to beware of infringing, charity should dispose us to \nregard and tender as our own.  It is not every possibility, every \nseeming, every faint show or glimmering appearance, which sufficeth \nto ground bad opinion or reproachful discourse concerning our \nbrother:  the matter should be clear, notorious and palpable, before \nwe admit a disadvantageous conceit into our head, a distasteful \nresentment into our heart, a harsh word into our mouth about him.  \nMen may fancy themselves sagacious and shrewd, persons of deep \njudgment and fine wit they may be taken for, when they can dive into \nothers' hearts, and sound their intentions; when through thick mists \nor at remote distances they can descry faults in them; when they \ncollect ill of them by long trains, and subtle fetches of discourse:  \nbut in truth they do thereby rather betray in themselves small love \nof truth, care of justice, or sense of charity, together with little \nwisdom and discretion:  for truth is only seen in a clear light; \njustice requireth strict proof.  Charity \"thinketh no evil,\" and \n\"believeth all things\" for the best; wisdom is not forward to \npronounce before full evidence.  (\"He,\" saith the wise man, \"that \nanswereth a matter before he heareth it, it is folly and shame unto \nhim.\")  In fine, they who proceed thus, as it is usual that they \nspeak falsely, as it is casual that they ever speak truly, as they \naffect to speak ill, true or false; so worthily they are to be \nreckoned among slanderers.\n\n6.  Another like way of slandering is, impetuous or negligent \nsputtering out of words, without minding what truth or consequence \nthere is in them, how they may touch or hurt our neighbour.  To \navoid this sin, we must not only be free from intending mischief, \nbut wary of effecting it; not only careful of not wronging one \ndistinct person, but of harming any promiscuously; not only \nabstinent from aiming directly, but provident not to hit casually \nany person with obloquy.  For as he that dischargeth shot into a \ncrowd, or so as not to look about regarding who may stand in the \nway, is no less guilty of doing mischief, and bound to make \nsatisfaction to them he woundeth, than if he had aimed at some one \nperson:  so if we sling our bad words at random, which may light \nunluckily, and defame somebody, we become slanderers unawares, and \nbefore we think on it.  This practice hath not ever all the malice \nof the worst slander, but it worketh often the effects thereof; and \ntherefore doth incur its guilt, and its punishment; especially it \nbeing commonly derived from ill-temper, or from bad habit, which we \nare bound to watch over, to curb, and to correct.  The tongue is a \nsharp and perilous weapon, which we are bound to keep up in the \nsheath, or never to draw forth but advisedly, and upon just \noccasion; it must ever be wielded with caution and care:  to \nbrandish it wantonly, to lay about with it blindly and furiously, to \nslash and smite therewith any that happeneth to come in our way, \ndoth argue malice or madness.\n\n7.  It is an ordinary way of proceeding to calumniate, for men, \nreflecting upon some bad disposition in themselves (although \nresulting from their own particular temper, from their bad \nprinciples, or from their ill custom), to charge it presently upon \nothers; presuming others to be like themselves:  like the wicked \nperson in the psalm, \"Thou thoughtest that I was altogether such an \none as thyself.\"  This is to slander mankind first in the gross; \nthen in retail, as occasion serveth, to asperse any man; this is the \nway of half-witted Machiavellians, and of desperate reprobates in \nwickedness, who having prostituted their consciences to vice, for \ntheir own defence and solace, would shroud themselves from blame \nunder the shelter of common pravity and infirmity; accusing all men \nof that whereof they know themselves guilty.  But surely there can \nbe no greater iniquity than this, that one man should undergo blame \nfor the ill conscience of another.\n\nThese seem to be the chief kinds of slander, and most common ways of \npractising it.  In which description, the folly thereof doth, I \nsuppose, so clearly shine, that no man can look thereon without \nloathing and despising it, as not only a very ugly, but a most \nfoolish practice.  No man surely can be wise who will suffer himself \nto be defiled therewith.  But to render its folly more apparent, we \nshall display it; declaring it to be extremely foolish upon several \naccounts.  But the doing of this, in regard to your patience, we \nshall forbear at present.\n\n\n\nTHE FOLLY OF SLANDER.\n\n\n\nPart 2.\n\n\"He that uttereth slander is a fool.\"--Prov. x. 18.\n\nI have formerly in this place, discoursing upon this text, explained \nthe nature of the sin here condemned, with its several kinds and \nways of practising.\n\n\nII.  I shall now proceed to declare the folly of it; and to make \ngood by divers reasons the assertion of the wise man, that \"He who \nuttereth slander is a fool.\"\n\n1.  Slandering is foolish, as sinful and wicked.\n\nAll sin is foolish upon many accounts; as proceeding from ignorance, \nerror, inconsiderateness, vanity; as implying weak judgment, and \nirrational choice; as thwarting the dictates of reason, and best \nrules of wisdom; as producing very mischievous effects to ourselves, \nbereaving us of the chief goods, and exposing us to the worst evils.  \nWhat can be more egregiously absurd than to dissent in our opinion \nand discord in our choice from infinite wisdom; to provoke by our \nactions sovereign justice, and immutable severity:  to oppose \nalmighty power, and offend immense goodness; to render ourselves \nunlike and contrary in our doings, our disposition, our state, to \nabsolute perfection and felicity?  What can be more desperately wild \nthan to disoblige our best Friend, to forfeit His love and favour, \nto render Him our enemy, who is our Lord and our Judge, upon whose \nmere will and disposal all our subsistence, all our welfare does \nabsolutely depend?  What greater madness can be conceived than to \ndeprive our minds of all true content here, and to separate our \nsouls from eternal bliss hereafter; to gall our consciences now with \nsore remorse, and to engage ourselves for ever in remediless \nmiseries?  Such folly doth all sin include:  whence in Scripture \nstyle worthily goodness and wisdom are terms equivalent; sin and \nfolly do signify the same thing.\n\nIf thence this practice be proved extremely sinful, it will thence \nsufficiently be demonstrated no less foolish.  And that it is \nextremely sinful may easily be shown.  It is the character of the \nsuperlatively wicked man:  \"Thou givest thy mouth to evil, and thy \ntongue frameth deceit.  Thou sittest and speakest against thy \nbrother; thou slanderest thine own mother's son.\"  It is, indeed, \nplainly the blackest and most hellish sin that can be; that which \ngiveth the grand fiend his names, and most expresseth his nature.  \nHe is [Greek] (the slanderer); Satan, the spiteful adversary; the \nold snake or dragon, hissing out lies, and spitting forth venom of \ncalumnious accusation; the accuser of the brethren, a murderous, \nenvious, malicious calumniator; the father of lies; the grand \ndefamer of God to man, of man to God, of one man to another.  And \nhighly wicked surely must that practice be, whereby we grow \nnamesakes to him, conspire in proceeding with him, resemble his \ndisposition and nature.  It is a complication, a comprisal, a \ncollection and sum of all wickedness; opposite to all the principal \nvirtues (to veracity and sincerity, to charity and justice), \ntransgressing all the great commandments, violating immediately and \ndirectly all the duties concerning our neighbour.\n\nTo lie simply is a great fault, being a deviation from that good \nrule which prescribeth truth in all our words; rendering us unlike \nand disagreeable to God, who is the God of truth (who loveth truth, \nand practiseth it in all His doings, who abominateth all falsehood); \nincluding a treacherous breach of faith towards mankind; we being \nall, in order to the maintenance of society, by an implicit compact, \nobliged by speech to declare our mind, to inform truly, and not to \nimpose upon our neighbour; arguing pusillanimous timorousness and \nimpotency of mind, a distrust in God's help, and diffidence in all \ngood means to compass our designs; begetting deception and error, a \nfoul and ill-favoured brood:  lying, I say, is upon such accounts a \nsinful and blamable thing; and of all lies those certainly are the \nworst which proceed from malice or from vanity, or from both, and \nwhich work mischief, such as slanders are.\n\nAgain, to bear any hatred or ill-will, to exercise enmity towards \nany man, to design or procure any mischief to our neighbour, whom \neven Jews were commanded to love as themselves, whose good, by many \nlaws, and upon divers scores, we are obliged to tender as our own, \nis a heinous fault; and of this apparently the slanderer is most \nguilty in the highest degree.  For evidently true it is which the \nwise man affirmeth, \"A lying tongue hateth those that are afflicted \nwith it;\" there is no surer argument of extreme hatred; nothing but \nthe height of ill-will can suggest this practice.  The slanderer is \nan enemy, as the most fierce and outrageous, so the most base and \nunworthy that can be; he fighteth with the most perilous and most \nunlawful weapon, in the most furious and foul way that can be.  His \nweapon is an envenomed arrow, full of deadly poison, which he \nshooteth suddenly, and feareth not:  a weapon which by no force can \nbe resisted, by no art declined, whose impression is altogether \ninevitable and unsustainable.  It is a most insidious, most \ntreacherous and cowardly way of fighting; wherein manifestly the \nweakest and basest spirits have extreme advantage, and may easily \nprevail against the bravest and worthiest; for no man of honour or \nhonesty can in way of resistance or requital deign to use it, but \nmust infallibly without repugnance be borne down thereby.  By it the \nvile practiser achieveth the greatest mischief that can be.  His \nwords are, as the psalmist saith of Doeg, devouring words:  \"Thou \nlovest all devouring words, O thou deceitful tongue:\" and, \"A man,\" \nsaith the wise man, \"that beareth false witness against his \nneighbour is a maul, and a sword, and a sharp arrow;\" that is, he is \na complicated instrument of all mischiefs; he smiteth and bruiseth \nlike a maul, he cutteth and pierceth like a sword, he thus doth hurt \nnear at hand; and at a distance he woundeth like a sharp arrow; it \nis hard anywhere to evade him, or to get out of his reach.  \"Many,\" \nsaith another wise man, the imitator of Solomon, \"have fallen by the \nedge of the sword, but not so many as have fallen by the tongue.  \nWell is he that is defended from it, and hath not passed through the \nvenom thereof; who hath not drawn the yoke thereof, nor hath been \nbound in its bands.  For the yoke thereof is a yoke of iron, and the \nbands thereof are bands of brass.  The death thereof is an evil \ndeath, the grave were better than it.\"  Incurable are the wounds \nwhich the slanderer inflicteth, irreparable the damages which he \ncauseth, indelible the marks which he leaveth.  \"No balsam can heal \nthe biting of a sycophant;\" no thread can stitch up a good name torn \nby calumnious defamation; no soap is able to cleanse from the stains \naspersed by a foul mouth.  Aliquid adhaerebit; somewhat always of \nsuspicion and ill opinion will stick in the minds of those who have \ngiven ear to slander.  So extremely opposite is this practice unto \nthe queen of virtues, Charity.  Its property indeed is to \"believe \nall things,\" that is, all things for the best, and to the advantage \nof our neighbour; not so much as to suspect any evil of him without \nunavoidably manifest cause; how much more not to devise any \nfalsehood against him!  It \"covereth\" all things, studiously \nconniving at real defects, and concealing assured miscarriages:  how \nmuch more not divulging imaginary or false scandals!  It disposeth \nto seek and further any the least good concerning him:  how much \nmore will it hinder committing grievous outrage upon his dearest \ngood name!\n\nAgain, all injustice is abominable; to do any sort of wrong is a \nheinous crime; that crime which of all most immediately tendeth to \nthe dissolution of society, and disturbance of human life; which God \ntherefore doth most loathe, and men have reason especially to \ndetest.  And of this the slanderer is most deeply guilty.  \"A \nwitness of Belial scorneth judgment, and the mouth of the wicked \ndevoureth iniquity,\" saith the wise man.  He is indeed, according to \njust estimation, guilty of all kinds whatever of injury, breaking \nall the second Table of Commands respecting our neighbour.  Most \nformally and directly he \"beareth false witness against his \nneighbour:\" he doth \"covet his neighbour's goods;\" for 'tis \nconstantly out of such an irregular desire, for his own presumed \nadvantage, to dispossess his neighbour of some good, and transfer it \non himself, that the slanderer uttereth his tale:  he is ever a \nthief and robber of his good name, a deflowerer and defiler of his \nreputation, an assassin and murderer of his honour.  So doth he \nviolate all the rules of justice, and perpetrateth all sorts of \nwrong against his neighbour.\n\nHe may, indeed, perhaps conceive it no great matter that he \ncommitteth; because he doth not act in so boisterous and bloody a \nway, but only by words, which are subtle, slim, and transient \nthings:  upon his neighbour's credit only, which is no substantial \nor visible matter.  He draweth (thinks he), no blood, nor breaketh \nany bones, nor impresseth any remarkable scar; 'tis only the soft \nair he breaketh with his tongue, 'tis only a slight character that \nhe stampeth on the fancy, 'tis only an imaginary stain that he \ndaubeth his neighbour with; therefore he supposeth no great wrong \ndone, and seemeth to himself innocent, or very excusable.  But these \nconceits arise from great inconsiderateness, or mistake:  nor can \nthey excuse the slanderer from grievous injustice.  For in dealing \nwith our neighbour, and meddling with his property, we are not to \nvalue things according to our fancy, but according to the price set \non them by the owner; we must not reckon that a trifle, which he \nprizeth as a jewel.  Since, then, all men (especially men of honour \nand honesty) do, from a necessary instinct of nature, estimate their \ngood name beyond any of their goods--yea, do commonly hold it more \ndear and precious than their very lives--we, by violently or \nfraudulently bereaving them of it, do them no less wrong than if we \nshould rob or cozen them of their substance; yea, than if we should \nmaim their body, or spill their blood, or even stop their breath.  \nIf they as grievously feel it, and resent it as deeply, as they do \nany other outrage, the injury is really as great, to them.  Even the \nslanderer's own judgment and conscience might tell him so much; for \nthey who most slight another's fame, are usually very tender of \ntheir own, and can with no patience endure that others should touch \nit; which demonstrates the inconsiderateness of their judgment, and \nthe iniquity of their practice.  It is an injustice not to be \ncorrected or cured.  Thefts may be restored, wounds may be cured; \nbut there is no restitution or cure of a lost good name:  it is \ntherefore an irreparable injury.\n\nNor is the thing itself, in true judgment, contemptible; but in \nitself really very considerable.  \"A good name,\" saith Solomon \nhimself (no fool), \"is rather to be chosen than great riches; and \nloving favour rather than silver and gold.\"  In its consequences it \nis much more so; the chief interests of a man, the success of his \naffairs, his ability to do good (for himself, his friends, his \nneighbour), his safety, the best comforts and conveniences of his \nlife, sometimes his life itself, depending thereon; so that whoever \ndoth snatch or filch it from him, doth not only according to his \nopinion, and in moral value, but in real effect commonly rob, \nsometimes murder, ever exceedingly wrong his neighbour.  It is often \nthe sole reward of a man's virtue and all the fruit of his industry; \nso that by depriving him of that, he is robbed of all his estate, \nand left stark naked of all, excepting a good conscience, which is \nbeyond the reach of the world, and which no malice or misfortune can \ndivest him of.  Full then of iniquity, full of uncharitableness, \nfull of all wickedness is this practice; and consequently full it is \nof folly.  No man, one would think, of any tolerable sense, should \ndare or deign to incur the guilt of a practice so vile and base, so \nindeed diabolical and detestable.  But further more particularly--\n\n2.  The slanderer is plainly a fool, because he maketh wrong \njudgments and valuations of things, and accordingly driveth on silly \nbargains for himself, in result whereof he proveth a great loser.  \nHe means by his calumnious stories either to vent some passion \nboiling in him, or to compass some design which he affects, or to \nplease some humour that he is possessed with:  but is any of these \nthings worth purchasing at so dear a rate? can there be any valuable \nexchange for our honesty?  Is it not more advisable to suppress our \npassion, or to let it evaporate otherwise, than to discharge it in \nso foul a way?  Is it not better to let go a petty interest, than to \nfurther it by committing so notorious and heinous a sin; to let an \nambitious project sink, than to buoy it up by such base means?  Is \nit not wisdom rather to smother or curb our humour, than by \nsatisfying it thus to forfeit our innocence?  Can anything in the \nworld be so considerable, that for its sake we should defile our \nsouls by so foul a practice, making shipwreck of a good conscience, \nabandoning honour and honesty, incurring all the guilt and all the \npunishment due to so enormous a crime?  Is it not far more wisdom, \ncontentedly to see our neighbour to enjoy credit and success, to \nflourish and thrive in the world, than by such base courses to sully \nhis reputation, to rifle him of his goods, to supplant or cross him \nin his affairs?  We do really, when we think thus to depress him, \nand to climb up to wealth or credit by the ruins of his honour, but \ndebase ourselves.  Whatever comes of it, whether he succeeds or is \ndisappointed therein, assuredly he that useth such courses will \nhimself be the greatest loser, and deepest sufferer.  'Tis true \nwhich the wise man saith, \"The getting of treasures by a lying \ntongue, is a vanity tossed to and fro of them that seek death.\"  \nAnd, \"Woe unto them,\" saith the prophet, \"that draw iniquity with \ncords of vanity;\" that is, who by falsehood endeavour to compass \nunjust designs.\n\nBut it is not, perhaps he will pretend, to assuage a private \npassion, or to promote his particular concernment, that he makes so \nbold with his neighbour, or deals so harshly with him; but for the \nsake of orthodox doctrine, for advantage of the true Church, for the \nadvancement of public good, he judgeth it expedient to asperse him.  \nThis indeed is the covert of innumerable slanders:  zeal for some \nopinion, or some party, beareth out men of sectarian and factious \nspirits in such practices; they may do, they may say anything for \nthose fine ends.  What is a little truth, what is any man's \nreputation in comparison to the carrying on such brave designs?  But \n(to omit that men do usually prevaricate in these cases; that it is \nnot commonly for love of truth, but of themselves; not so much for \nthe benefit of their sect, but for their own interest, that they \ncalumniate) this plea will nowise justify such practice.  For truth \nand sincerity, equity and candour, meekness and charity are \ninviolably to be observed, not only towards dissenters in opinion, \nbut even towards declared enemies of truth itself; we are to bless \nthem (that is, to speak well of them, and to wish well to them), not \nto curse them (that is, not to reproach them, or to wish them ill, \nmuch less to belie them).  Truth also, as it cannot ever need, so \ndoth it always loathe and scorn the patronage and the succour of \nlies; it is able to support and protect itself by fair means; it \nwill not be killed upon a pretence of saving it, or thrive by its \nown ruin.  Nor indeed can any party be so much strengthened and \nunderpropped, as it will be weakened and undermined by such courses.  \nNo cause can stand firm upon a bottom so loose and slippery as \nfalsehood is.  All the good a slanderer can do is, to disparage what \nhe would maintain.  In truth, no heresy can be worse than that would \nbe which should allow to play the devil in any case.  He that can \ndispense with himself to slander a Jew or a Turk, doth in so doing \nrender himself worse than either of them by profession is:  for even \nthey, and even pagans themselves, disallow the practice of \ninhumanity and iniquity.  All men by light of nature avow truth to \nbe honourable, and faith to be indispensably observed.  He doth not \nunderstand what it is to be Christian, or careth not to practise \naccording thereto, who can find in his heart in any case, upon any \npretence, to calumniate.  In fine, to prostitute our conscience, or \nsacrifice our honesty, for any cause, to any interest whatever, can \nnever be warrantable or wise.  Further--\n\n3.  The slanderer is a fool, because he useth improper means and \npreposterous methods of effecting his purposes.  As there is no \ndesign worth the carrying on by ways of falsehood and iniquity, so \nis there scarce any, no good or lawful one at least, which may not \nmore surely, more safely, more cleverly be achieved by means of \ntruth and justice.  Is not always the straight way more short than \nthe oblique and crooked? is not the plain way more easy than the \nrough and cragged? is not the fair way more pleasant and passable \nthan the foul?  Is it not better to walk in paths that are open and \nallowed, than in those that are shut up and prohibited, than to \nclamber over walls, to break through fences, to trespass upon \nenclosures?  Surely yes:  \"He that walketh uprightly, walketh \nsurely.\"  Using strict veracity and integrity, candour and equity, \nis the best method of accomplishing good designs.  Our own industry, \ngood use of the parts and faculties God hath given us, embracing \nfair opportunities, God's blessing and providence, are sufficient \nmeans to rely upon for procuring, in an honest way, whatever is \nconvenient for us.  These are ways approved, and amiable to all men; \nthey procure the best friends, and fewest enemies; they afford to \nthe practises a cheerful courage, and good hope; they meet with less \ndisappointment, and have no regret or shame attending them.  He that \nhath recourse to the other base means, and \"maketh lies his refuge,\" \nas he renounceth all just and honest means, as he disclaimeth all \nhope in God's assistance, and forfeiteth all pretence to His \nblessing:  so he cannot reasonably expect good success, or be \nsatisfied in any undertaking.  The supplanting way indeed seems the \nmost curt and compendious way of bringing about dishonest or \ndishonourable designs:  but as good design is certainly dishonoured \nthereby, so is it apt thence to be defeated; it raises up enemies \nand obstacles, yielding advantages to whoever is disposed to cross \nus.  As in trade it is notorious that the best course to thrive is \nby dealing squarely and truly; any fraud or cozenage appearing there \ndoth overthrow a man's credit, and drive away custom from him:  so \nin all other transactions, as he that dealeth justly and fairly will \nhave his affairs proceed roundly, and shall find men ready to comply \nwith him, so he that is observed to practise falsehood will be \ndeclined by some, opposed by others, disliked by all:  no man scarce \nwillingly will have to do with him; he is commonly forced to stand \nout in business, as one that plays foul play.\n\n4.  Lastly, the slanderer is a very fool, as bringing many great \ninconveniences, troubles, and mischiefs on himself.\n\nFirst, \"A fool's mouth,\" saith the wise man, \"is his destruction, \nhis lips are the snare of his soul:\" and if any kind of speech is \ndestructive and dangerous, then is this certainly most of all; for \nby no means can a man inflame so fierce anger, impress so stiff \nhatred, raise so deadly enmity against himself, and consequently so \nendanger his safety, ease and welfare, as by this practice.  Men can \nmore easily endure, and sooner will forgive, any sort of abuse than \nthis; they will rather pardon a robber of their goods, than a \ndefamer of their good name.\n\nSecondly, such an one indeed is not only odious to the person \nimmediately concerned, but generally to all men that observe his \npractice; every man presently will be sensible how easily it may be \nhis own case, how liable he may be to be thus abused, in a way \nagainst which there is no guard or defence.  The slanderer therefore \nis apprehended a common enemy, dangerous to all men; and thence \nrendereth all men averse from him, and ready to cross him.  Love and \npeace, tranquillity and security can only be maintained by innocent \nand true dealing:  so the psalmist hath well taught us:  \"What man \nis he that desireth life, and loveth many days, that he may see \ngood?  Keep thy tongue from evil, and thy lips from speaking guile.\"\n\nThirdly, all wise, all noble, all ingenuous and honest persons have \nan aversion from this practice, and cannot entertain it with any \nacceptance or complacence.  \"A righteous man hateth lying,\" saith \nthe wise man.  It is only ill-natured and ill-nurtured, unworthy and \nnaughty people that are willing auditors or encouragers thereof.  \"A \nwicked doer,\" saith the wise man again, \"giveth heed to false lips; \nand a liar giveth ear to a naughty tongue.\"  All love of truth and \nregard to justice, and sense of humanity, all generosity and \ningenuity, all charity and good-will to men, must be extinct in \nthose who can with delight, or indeed with patience, lend an ear or \ngive any countenance to a slanderer:  and is not he a very fool who \nchooseth to displease the best, only soothing the worst of men?\n\nFourthly, the slanderer indeed doth banish himself from all \nconversation and company, or intruding into it becomes very \ndisgustful thereto; for he worthily is not only looked upon as an \nenemy to those whom he slandereth, but to those also upon whom he \nobtrudeth his calumnious discourse.  He not only wrongeth the former \nby the injury, but he mocketh the latter by the falsehood of his \nstories; implicitly charging his hearers with weakness and \ncredulity, or with injustice and pravity.\n\nFifthly, he also derogateth wholly from his own credit in all \nmatters of discourse.  For he that dareth thus to injure his \nneighbour, who can trust him in anything he speaks? what will not he \nsay to please his vile humour, or further his base interest? what, \nthinks any man, will he scruple or boggle at, who hath the heart in \nthus doing wrong and mischief to imitate the devil?  Further--\n\nSixthly, this practice is perpetually haunted with most troublesome \ncompanions, inward regret and self-condemnation, fear and disquiet:  \nthe conscience of dealing so unworthily doth smite and rack him; he \nis ever in danger, and thence in fear to be discovered, and requited \nfor it.  Of these passions the manner of his behaviour is a manifest \nindication:  for men do seldom vent their slanderous reports openly \nand loudly, to the face or in the ear of those who are concerned in \nthem; but do utter them in a low voice, in dark corners, out of \nsight and hearing, where they conceit themselves at present safe \nfrom being called to an account.  \"Swords,\" saith the psalmist of \nsuch persons, \"are in their lips:  Who (say they) doth hear?\"  And, \n\"Whoso privily slandereth his neighbour, him will I cut off,\" saith \nDavid again, intimating the common manner of this practice.  Calumny \nis like \"the plague, that walketh in darkness.\"  Hence appositely \nare the practisers thereof termed whisperers and backbiters:  their \nheart suffers them not openly to avow, their conscience tells them \nthey cannot fairly defend their practice.  Again--\n\nSeventhly, the consequence of this practice is commonly shameful \ndisgrace, with an obligation to retract and render satisfaction:  \nfor seldom doth calumny pass long without being detected and \nconfuted.  \"He that walketh uprightly, walketh surely:  but he that \nperverteth his ways shall be known:\" and, \"The lip of truth shall be \nestablished for ever; but a lying lip is but for a moment,\" saith \nthe great observer of things.  And when the slander is disclosed, \nthe slanderer is obliged to excuse (that is, to palliate one lie \nwith another, if he can do it), or forced to recant, with much \ndisgrace and extreme displeasure to himself:  he is also many times \nconstrained, with his loss and pain, to repair the mischief he hath \ndone.\n\nEighthly, to this in likelihood the concernments of men, and the \npowers which guard justice, will forcibly bring him; and certainly \nhis conscience will bind him thereto; God will indispensably exact \nit from him.  He can never have any sound quiet in his mind, he can \nnever expect pardon from Heaven, without acknowledging his fault, \nrepairing the wrong he hath done, restoring that good name of which \nhe dispossessed his neighbour:  for in this no less than in other \ncases conscience cannot be satisfied, remission will not be granted, \nexcept due restitution be performed; and of all restitutions this \nsurely is the most difficult, most laborious, and most troublesome.  \n'Tis nowise so hard to restore goods stolen or extorted, as to \nrecover a good opinion lost, to wipe off aspersions cast on a man's \nname, to cure a wounded reputation:  the most earnest and diligent \nendeavour can hardly ever effect this, or spread the plaster so far \nas the sore hath reached.  The slanderer therefore doth engage \nhimself into great straits, incurring an obligation to repair an \nalmost irreparable mischief.\n\nNinthly, this practice doth also certainly revenge itself, imposing \non its actor a perfect retaliation; \"a tooth for a tooth;\" an \nirrecoverable infamy to himself, for the infamy he causeth to \nothers.  Who will regard his fame, who will be concerned to excuse \nhis faults, who so outrageously abuseth the reputation of others?  \nHe suffereth justly, he is paid in his own coin, will any man think, \nwho doth hear him reproached.\n\nTenthly, in fine, the slanderer, if he doth not, by serious and sore \nrepentance retract his practice, doth banish himself from heaven and \nhappiness, doth expose himself to endless miseries and sorrows.  \nFor, if none that \"maketh a lie shall enter into the heavenly city;\" \nif without those mansions of joy and bliss \"every one\" must \neternally abide \"that loveth or maketh a lie;\" if [Greek], \"to all \nliars their portion\" is assigned \"in the lake which burneth with \nfire and brimstone;\" then assuredly the capital liar, the slanderer, \nwho lieth most injuriously and mischievously, shall be far excluded \nfrom felicity, and thrust down into the depth of that miserable \nplace.  If, as St. Paul saith, no \"railer,\" or evil-speaker, \"shall \ninherit the kingdom of God,\" how far thence shall they be removed \nwho without any truth or justice do speak ill of and reproach their \nneighbour?  If for every [Greek], \"idle,\" or vain, \"word\" we must \n\"render a\" strict \"account,\" how much more shall we be severely \nreckoned with for this sort of words, so empty of truth and void of \nequity:  words that are not only negatively vain, or useless, but \npositively vain, as false and spoken to bad purpose?  If slander \nperhaps here may evade detection, or escape deserved punishment, yet \ninfallibly hereafter, at the dreadful day, it shall be disclosed, \nirreversibly condemned, inevitably persecuted with condign reward of \nutter shame and sorrow.\n\nIs not he then, he who, out of malignity, or vanity, to serve any \ndesign, or soothe any humour in himself or others, doth by \ncommitting this sin involve himself in all these great evils, both \nhere and hereafter, a most desperate and deplorable fool?\n\nHaving thus described the nature of this sin, and declared the folly \nthereof, we need, I suppose, to say no more for dissuading it; \nespecially to persons of a generous and honest mind, who cannot but \nscorn to debase and defile themselves by so mean and vile a \npractice; or to those who seriously do profess Christianity, that \nis, the religion which peculiarly above all others prescribeth \nconstant truth, strictest justice, and highest charity.\n\nI shall only add, that since our faculty of speech (wherein we do \nexcel all other creatures) was given us, as in the first place to \npraise and glorify our Maker, so in the next to benefit and help our \nneighbour; as an instrument of mutual succour and delectation, of \nfriendly commerce and pleasant converse together; for instructing \nand advising, comforting and cheering one another:  it is an \nunnatural perverting, and an irrational abuse thereof, to employ it \nto the damage, disgrace, vexation, or wrong in any kind of our \nbrother.  Better indeed had we been as brutes without its use, than \nwe are, if so worse than brutishly we abuse it.\n\nFinally, all these things being considered, we may, I think, \nreasonably conclude it most evidently true that \"He which uttereth \nslander is a fool.\"","title":"Sermons on Evil-Speaking","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":38176}