possess the reward of his valor with God in heaven, and also making the world his executor, leave to it the rich inheritance of his memory.

Yet in some cases he counts it no disgrace to yield, where it is impossible to conquer; as when swarms of enemies crowd about him, so that he shall rather be stifled than wounded to death in such a case, if quarter be offered him, he may take it with more honor than the other can give it; and if he throws up his desperate game, he may happily win the next; whereas, if he playeth it out to the last, he shall certainly lose it and himself. But if he be to fall into the hand of a barbarous enemy, whose giving him quarter is but reprieving him for a more ignominious death, he had rather disburse his life at the present than to take day to fall into the hands of such remorseless creditors.

He makes none the object of his cruelty, which cannot be the object of his fear. Lions, they say, (except forced with hunger,) will not prey on women and children, though I would wish none to try the truth hereof: the truly valiant will not hurt women or infants, nor will they be cruel to old men. What conquest is it to strike him up, who stands but on one leg, and hath the other foot in the grave? But arrant cowards (such as would conquer victory

itself, if it should stand in their way as they fly) count themselves never evenly matched except they have threefold odds on their side, and esteem their enemy never disarmed till they be dead. Such love to show a nature steeped in gall of passion, and display the ignoble tyranny of prevailing dastards: these being thus valiant against no resistance, will make no resistance when they meet with true valor.

He counts it murder to kill any in cold blood Indeed, in taking cities by assault (especially when soldiers have suffered long in a hard siege), it is pardonable what present passion doth with a sudden thrust; but a premeditated back-blow in cold blood is base. Some excuse there is for blood enraged, and no wonder if that scaldeth which boileth; but when men shall call a consultation in their soul, and issue thence a deliberate act, the more advised the deed is, the less advised it is, when men raise their own passions, and are not raised by them; especially if fair quarter be first granted; an alms which he who gives to-day may crave tomorrow; yea, he that hath the hilt in his hand in the morning may have the point at his throat ere night.

He doth not barbarously abuse the bodies of his dead enemies. We find that Hercules was valiant are ever the most

the first (the most

merciful) that ever suffered his enemies to carry away their dead bodies after they had been put to the sword. Belike, before his time they cruelly cut the corpses in pieces, or cast them to the wild beasts.

In time of plenty he provides for want hereafter. Yet, generally, soldiers (as if they counted one treasurer in an army were enough) so hate covetousness that they cannot affect providence for the future, and come home with more marks in their bodies than pence in their pock

ets.

He is willing and joyful to embrace peace on good conditions. The procreation of peace, and not the satisfying of men's lusts and liberties, is the end of war. Yet how many, having war for their possession, desire a perpetuity thereof! Wiser men than King Henry the Eighth's fool, use to cry in fair weather, whose harvest being only in storms, they themselves desire to raise them; wherefore fearing peace will starve whom war hath fatted, and to render themselves the more useful, they prolong discord to the utmost, and could wish when swords are once drawn that all scabbards might be cut asunder.

He is as quiet and painful in peace as courageous in war. If he hath not gotten already enough whereon comfortably to subsist, he rebetakes himself to his former calling he had

before the war began: the wielding of his sword hath not made him unwieldy to do any other work, and put his bones out of joint to take pains. Hence comes it to pass that some take by-courses on the highways, and death, whom they honorably fought for in the field, meets them in a worse place.

But we leave our soldier, seeking by his virtues to ascend from a private place, by the degrees of sergeant, lieutenant, captain, colonel, till he come to be a general, and then, God willing, you shall have his example.

TH

THE GOOD GENERAL.

HE soldier, whom we formerly described, hath since, by the stairs of his own deserts, climbed up to be a general, and now we come to character him.

He is pious in the ordering of his own life. Some falsely conceive that religion spoileth the spirit of a general, as bad as a rainy day doth his plume of feathers, making it droop and hang down; whereas, indeed, piety only begets true prowess.

He acknowledgeth God the Generalissimo of all armies, who in all battles, though the number be never so unequal, reserves the cast

ing voice for himself. Yet can I scarce believe what one tells us, how Walter Pletemberg, master of the Teutonic Order, with a small number slew in a battle an hundred thousand Muscovite enemies, with the loss of but one man on his side.

He hath gained skill in his place by long experience; not beginning to lead others, before himself ever knew to follow, having never before (except in cock-matches) beheld any battles. Surely they leap best in their providence forward who fetch their rise farthest backward in their experience.

He either is, or is presumed valiant. Indeed, courage in him is necessary, though some think that a general is above valor who may command others to be so. As if it were all one whether courage were his naturally, or by adoption, who can make the valiant deeds of others seem his own; and his reputation for personal manhood, once raised, will bear itself up; like a round body, some force is required to set it, but a touch will keep it, agoing. Indeed, it is extreme indiscretion (except in extremities) for him to be prodigal of his person.

He is cheerful and willing in undergoing of labor. Admirable are the miracles of an industrious army: witness the mighty ditch in Cambridgeshire, made by the East-Angles, commonly called Devil's Ditch, as if the pioneers