MEDITATIONS UPON A siege.  
By H. P.  
Printed 1646.   

TO The King's most Excellent majesty.  
sir,  
THE remembrance of my service directed me in my Dedication: I thought it reason to give you the first Fruits of my labours in this kind, to whom I owe all. I cannot think them worth your eye, yet I cannot but with thankfulness aclowledge, that I have had your ear: and it is a small thing for you to lend me that sense once, that have lent me the other so many times. Once I am sure, the reverence of your sacred name will get this book that esteem, which in justice it should have lost for being mine. Yet if it may be judged by the intention of the Author, either to God, or to the Church, or to yourself, I dare avouch it a good piece. Such as it is, I humbly crave leave to lay it at your feet, and with it myself, who am  
Your Majesties most Humble and faithful Servant and chaplain, humphrey peak.   

A Table of the Chapters.  

1. OF a siege in general.  
2. Of straightening and starving the besieged.  
3. Of the want of Rest.  
4. Of the want of Liberty.  
5. Of the want of opportunity of hearing and sending unto friends.  
6. Of Alarms true, and false.  
7. Of Ordnance.  
8. Of granades.  
9. Of fire-balls.  
10. Of shooting-stones.  
11. Of poisoned bullets.  
12. Of Petarrs.  
13. Of Intelligence.  
14. Of battering and blowing up of Magazines.  
15. Of destroying provisions.  
16. Of cutting off, or draying waters from a Garrison.  
17. Of undermining.  
18. Of entering a breach.  
19. Of scaling ladders:  
20. Of trenches, and battries.  
21. Of hills, and rocks.  
22. Of motes.  
23. Of fortifying.  
24. Of palisadoes.  
25. Of sentries.  
26. Of Guards.  
27. Of sallies.  
28. Of muskets, pikes, halberts, pistols, hand-granadoes, and such kind of weapons used in a storm by the defendants.  
29. Of stones, melted pitch, and led, scalding oil &c used on the same occasion.  
30. Of Case-shott.  
31. Of cutting down trees, and hedges, and laying of places open.  
32. Of firing towns.  
33. Of pulling down Churches, or chapels.  
34. Of huts under the works granado-proofe, and Cells underground.  
35. Of Surrender.  
36. Of conditions honourable, and dishonourable.  
37. Of surprisal by storming.  
38. Of robbing, and spoiling.  
39. Of torturing for the discovery of hidden treasure.  
40. Of stripping.  
41. Of disaccommodation in diet, and lodging.  
42. Of strict imprisonment.  
43. Of maiming.  
44. Of death.    

MEDITATION 1.  
Upon a siege in general.  
A siege, is when an Enemy sits down before a Town, or Garrison, the assailants resolved to carry it, and the Defendants to keep to the utmost of their power. Amongst the many ways of enmity, whereby in a declared war men use to express their endeavours to ruin one another; This of a siege is the sharpest and the saddest, if we consider the difficulty both of assailing and defending.  
The difficulty of assailing a well fortified Garrison is such, that in reason a man may well wonder at every passage in it: that the Commander should value his men so cheap as to put them on upon so desperate an attempt; that he should force them forward when they are averse, and drive them into the mouth of danger, wherein he doth foresee that they must perish, and knows that though he have their hands he hath not their hearts in that enterprise; that the soldier can be either persuaded or constrained to enter the jaws of Death, and undertake the work, wherein he knows there is scarce one of a hundred that doth not miscarry: that so poor a hope as of the pillage should be a motive sufficient to draw him on: that the carrying of it at the last, should be a sufficient compensation for so many lives as are usually last in the attempt. The difficulty of defending is full of wonder too, wherein to try the courage and patience of the Defendants are presented to their view, the power of a whole Army, furnished with the instruments of Death, and all kind of Weapons and Engines to offend or fright them, set down before the Garrison, confident of their own strength to take it, and commonly well informed of the Defendants strength to hold it, and upon those grounds resolved to go through with it. Nor can they possibly be ignorant with how much shane& dishonour the Enemy shall recede if he miscarry? with how much obstinacy he will contend to perfect it? with how much rage and fury he will conclude if he prevail in it? After these, there offer themselves likewise unto his thoughts the vast labour he must undergo to keep it: the danger more then the toil: the want of sleep and rest, the scarcity of all things necessary to support nature, and to maintain life: Against all which he hath nothing to put into the balance, but his Conscience to God, his Loyalty to his Prince and Country, and his Honor in the Enemies repulse. And truly he that hath these hath enough. What good man, for his Conscience, would not sacrifice his life, much more endanger it? What Subject, to save his Loyalty, would not venture all that worldlings count dear or precious? especially, where the goodness of his sovereign makes his duty double, and strengtheners the obligation? What Gentleman or soldier cannot despise his safety, whilst he regards his honour? They owe their birth and breeding to the Pesantrie, that have no sense of it: He that hath the blood of a true Gentleman flowing in his veins, cannot divest it though he would; and though some private discontent may lay it a while asleep, yet in the pinch of trial it will rouse him up, to do things brave and noble, and worthy of himself, in spite of any contrary intention or resolution. If this fail in any few particulars, they are cleans of a late& sudden growth, that beside the Title and Habit, wear nothing of a Gentleman, or of a soldier: And surely according to the old maxim, That the passive part of Fortitude is the noblest; he that rides out a siege, and gives his Enemy the check, bears away the greatest honour: though, if the active part of Fortitude in services were to be disputed, he hath a faire Title too. Such honour they shall never want, that with the integrity of an unchangeable resolution, have devoted themselves to serve their God, their King, their Country and their famed.   

MEDITATION 2.  
Of straightening and sterving the Besieged.  
AFter a general view, particulars claim their turns; amongst which Hunger deserves to led in Front, as being the cruelest engine whereby to subdue the strongest resolutions. In this particular the disadvantage of the Beseiger, and the advantage of the besieged, is the intervening of time: Which, where the dangers threaten death, is to be reckoned no small benefit, for thereby wisdom hath opportunity to mature her designs, and to lay all things handsomely for the perfecting her work: thereby patience grows better armed to bear the event, because she hath the less reason to complain that expectation was deceived. The greatest spirits and resolutions are subject to be surprised, nor is every man so much master of himself as to call all his strengths about him on a sudden: but when we have seen the clouds a long time in gathering, and the storm grow upon us by sensible and slow degrees, he that doth not fit and prepare for the worst, hath more of heart then of brain, and of courage then discretion. It is therfore God's great mercy to us, that in so sharp a trial as this of famine, men should have the full advantage of preparation, that so they may resolve what best becomes a Christian and a loyal Subject. But this storm which comes on so slowly, falls heavily at last; a speedy death by the Sword, or by a bullet, being but a trifle in comparison of those insufferable torments which they endure that are pinched with famine. Examples are plenteous of those that have eaten their own children, nay their own flesh from their arms; and those that had food in private, have not found opportunity to eat in safety, but have had it snatched out of their hands, nay even out of their mouths by those that have broken in upon them, and they have paid their lives into the bargain, the price of the concealment. This misery of a siege, pinches none more bitterly, then great and populous Cities. whose numerous inhabitants make all provisions quickly scarce, so soon as they are cut off from supplies. And God in justice many times suffers this calamity to fall upon them, that their punishment may be the better suited to their sins: The noted sin of such Cities as boast themselves the Queens and Ladies of their Provinces, is luxury and excess of meats and drinks, which they lavish out even with pride and vanity, glorying in the cost and change of studied delicacies, raked from all quarters, as much for ostentation as for use; with these, the pampered body swells and grows fat, and is stall-fed for wantonness and lust; that being( too too often) the prime intention of such excess to spur dull nature up, and by prepared incentives to kindle that hellish fire, which Religion teaches us rather to quench by studied temperance and acts of mortification. Now then thou wretched Epicure, whose belly hath been thy god, and luxury thy happiness, in which thou hast weltred with security, and with contempt of all pious admonitions so many yeares; when God hath brought thee to these streights, think how much bitterer thy cup will be then other mens, whose hearts shall not check them with the remembrance of thy mad excess, or thy unsatiated lust. It is gull and wormwood, in the want of food, to remember how much we have vainly lavished both with sin and shane. It is as daggers stabbed into the heart, when the enfeebled body faints and pines, and consumes and languishes without hope of relief, to think how high 'twas kept before, chiefly for this cause; that it might not fail to serve us in our lewd delights. Then you despised the poor, and would not relieve them though you might: now they'l despise you, and force relief from you whether you will or not; nay even that little which is all that you have left for to relieve yourselves. Then variety of dainties found no relish with you: now you would think yourselves feasted with the driest crust. Then perhaps drunkenness was your habitual sin, now you would give all you have but for any thing that were wholesome to quench your thirst. O! how heavy is the scourge, when God thus finds us out in our beloved sins. To sin by intemperance is bad at all times; but in the times of war, when this danger overtakes many, and threatens all, if we think ourselves obliged to no moderation, to no abatement of our former height, vengeance will reach us at the last, and we shall fall a spectacle to others, of those whom God doth punish in the same kind they sin.   

MEDITATION 3.  
Of the want of Rest.  
REST is the great refreshment of decayed nature, whereby she recovers new strength and vigour, after she hath been spent and exhausted by tough labour of the body, by long continued and multiplied dangers, by sharp and incessant cares, by alternate fears and hopes, by the vicissitudes and revolutions of comforts and discontents, which being violent and high in proportion to their causes and occasions, do afflict the mind, and tyre and decay the spirits, as toil and labour doth the body. All which passions and perturbations, in a siege, have commonly their turns; and those, in such an intensive height, in such an eminent degree, as must force us to confess the causes and occasions to be exceeding sharp from which they flow. By these accidents nature is defrauded of her due, and though she beg rest earnestly( as deeply sensible of the concernment) yet she cannot obtain it. For want of it, she is the less able to undergo those cares of the mind, and those labours of the body, which in these streights abide her. And not only so, but besides, she finds herself threatened with fevers,& distempers, and inflammations, through the want of rest, which should concoct those crudities whence they arise; And though she feel the symptoms grow upon her, and know whereto they tend▪ yet she can have no truce from these encumbrances to compose herself( for any fixed or certain time) to sweet and quiet slumbers. All she can get is forced, catched now and then by snatches, a man's judgement even then directing him to wish, that he could wake longer, when short slumbers overtake him whether he will or not. And lest those slumbers should not be short enough, from which men hast to rise full of thought, and fore-seen business, new occasions intervene and break in upon him while he sleeps, that at his first awaking he knows not whether it be sleep or death that hovers over him, he finds them both so like, and both so near together. If his own cares and dangers give him truce, and a sound judgement tells him that he may rest secure, yet others panic terrors shall disturb him, whose shrieks, and cries, and noise, and tumult, and unseasonable, and disordered, and indiscreet recourse to those, on whom they think their safety doth depend, creates him new unrest, so much more incomportable, as it is causeless: A guise in them far different from their old wont, that used to sleep till noon, and pleased themselves to languish out much more time, then was fitting in the slothful bed; that turned, like a door upon the hinge, and folded the arms to sleep, composing the body and the mind to further rest, even then when nature cried, it is enough: That called in physic to their help, and bought artificial slumbers at costly rates, as if to surcharge Nature were desirable, or stupefaction were a blessing: That taught all the family( kept in aservile awe) to move neither hand, nor foot, not tongue, until high noon were come, and the effeminate Lord or wanton Lady did give the word, That now they were pleased to wake. Those pleasing slumbers changed to this sad unrest, will teach them what they are, which before they were in mighty danger to forget. And it may teach us all to set our hearts and minds upon that place, where true and uninterrupted rest is to be found. There we shall cease from labour, and no weariness shall afflict the body: There we shall cease from perturbations, and no fears nor sorrows shall afflict the mind. Receive me, o my God, in thy due time unto thyself, that with thee I may rest for ever, and then what ever my toil or labour in this life shall be; what ever my fears, and sorrows, and perturbations, or what ever the effects of them; I shall with an upright heart, and with the best of my endeavours fit my neck to the yoke, and my shoulder to the burden which thou hast appointed for me.   

MEDITATION 4.  
Of the want of Liberty.  
THE desire of Liberty is natural to every living creature, and by Man, above the rest, may be the more desired, by how much more then they, he understands the benefit and use of it. Restraint simplo in itself, is justly reckoned an affliction, and receives more or less, measured by the degree. But when it hath concomitant the access of fears, and dangers, of a higher nature, which every minute may be added unto that affliction, such ungrateful circumstances make the restraint more grievous, and wind up the affliction of it to the highest pitch. I touch not upon paradoxes; How much liberty a resolved mind may enjoy in the severest restraint; or how much slavery a base mind endures with the greatest liberty: they are speculations beside our purpose, though I would not haue it forgotten, how much a wise man may ease his burden by philosophical, or theological helps, which no man can with discretion cast off, nor without impiety neglect. yet a just latitude must be left, for the full resentment of the cross, lest we should either seem stupid under God's visitation, when we are the sufferers; or not to value other mens courage and patience to the full worth, when we are spectators. They are observations obvious to ordinary capacities, that men are hereby deprived of their lawful, and usual contentments and delights, that health is thereby endangered whilst many are pestered together in a little room, and the very air they breath thereby made more offensive; that the supply of things necessary is debarred.& the besieged enforced to content themselves with what they have, though never so far short of what were fitting; that all kind of devotion is disordered and put out of course, and the tranquillitie of mind( from which devotion takes her surest pitch) almost quiter lost in such variety of successive troubles. yet in the recovery of this last, we should above all approve ourselves stout asserters of our own liberty,& vindicate ourselves from that wretched captivity, whereby satan would by sorrow enthrall us unto sin; If my body be confined, if my feet be fettered, if my hands be manacled; yet if my mind and soul be free, I have enough: Free from the base vassalage to those sins which make me Sathan's slave in a dissolute life, and vicious conversation; free from presumptuous profanation, and daring to do any act whereby my God, and my religion are dishonoured; and the professed enemies of them both take an occasion to blaspheme; free from disloyalty and treachery unto my King and sovereign, to whom I have sworn my alleigeance, so many times! free from the surprisal of violent passions, which may blind my judgement for the time! and lead me into such actions on a sudden, for which I shall afterwards condemn myself, when I am myself; free from that unhappy flexiblenesse, and softness of disposition! which may make me yield to other mens importunities, and comply with them in those ways which my own heart condemns: This freedom if I can keep I need wish no more: and this freedom I am obliged to strive for; and to go no less; I am not sure to reach it though I endeavour it: yet I will wish it, yet I will pray for it, yet I will grieve if I come short of it: and if I can attain it, I will triumph and glory in the midst of my bodily restraint, as being much more truly free; then those that have cooped me up.   

MEDITATION 5.  
Of the want of opportunity of hearing and sending unto friends.  
MAn's power being finite, his abilities weak, and his time short to provide for himself so many things as he stands in need of in this life, God hath been therefore graciously pleased to lay the common tie of charity upon us all, whereby to make us ready( as we are able) upon all occasions, to assist one another. Besides this general tie, there is a particular bond of duty betwixt those, whom either nature or divine institution have joined in extraordinary nearness: and it is generally presumed of them, that they will willingly assist those to whom they are so related in their distresses, so far as possibly they may. This hope boyes many a man up, when he is ready to sink under the burden of his afflictions. Now therfore, in the extremity of affliction, to be deprived of the opportunity to know whether our friends, whom we most esteem, or on whom we most depend, be alive or dead; of opportunity to inform them of our distress, and let them know our condition; of opportunity to receive relief, or so much as comfort from them; of opportunity to let them know our resolutions, and our immutability to God and goodness; must needs be a great grief. And it cuts like a two-edged sword, both ways: it grieves us that we cannot hear from them, and it grieves us that they cannot hear from us, whereby they may know the truth, and apprehended things neither better, nor worse, but just as indeed they are: and both those griefs touch them reciprocally; again. For the mind of man suspended in uncertainties inclines to believe the worst, and oftentimes afflicts itself with fears beyond the truth; which( though a vanity) is not easily shaken off, nor quickly mastered, no not in the stronger sex: the more equal should our censure be upon the female, whose passions( usually more violent) make their fears greater to their own tormenting. Absence, and separation from friends is heavy enough, but when all intercourse of Messages or Letters is cut off; when their condition is sealed up in silence, and the dark night of utter ignorance clouds every beam of light, that not the least spark of knowledge can break through those impediments that are interposed, it leaves them for the present as mutualy dead to one another. Let the faithful husband of a good and loving wife, or the tender father of sweet and duteous children judge of this bitterness. In some sense death itself were less then this: for there the surviving part only should be sensible of the sorrow: but here both are alike. All the comfort in this case is( and that God knows is very little too) that from the separation and silence by death there can be no erturn here in this world: but from this by a siege, there may and oft-times is: Which to attain, the surest way is, with meekness and patience to submit unto the will of God in this, and in all other trials that he shall lay upon us.   

MEDITATION 6.  
Of Alarms, True and False.  
IN a siege, the Assailant hath the command of time, to come on when he please, or to make a show of coming on, when he doth not intend it: The defendant must be still in readiness, lest he be surprised. How brittle is the condition of human security, when one minutes negligence ruins that, which many moneths vigilance& care was scarce enough to preserve! Neither day nor night can secure us from dangers, or from fears: they threaten us both when we see them, and when we see them not. The enemy wakes one night, or perhaps one hour of the night to give us an Alarm, and we must wake every night, and every hour of the night, because we do not know what night, or with hour of the night he will attempt us. yet a few by turns supply that office, and by dividing their watches make the burden easy: but when the Alarm comes, and the warning is given, the whole Garrison hastens to arms, and with all speed and diligence prepares for a serious defence, when perhaps the enemy intended but to fright them& having attained his end, goes off, laughing to think that he hath created so much trouble unto them, whom at that time he intended not to hurt; yet he resolves, that the besieged shall hear of him often in the same kind: twice or thrice in a week, perhaps twice or thrice in a night: for thus he drives on to his main end, which is to break the defendant with continued toil and watching, until he grow so tame, that he may admit conditions of surrender. During the progress of these attempts, if at any time the assailant find the besieged remiss, he then changes his purpose, and makes his assault in truth, which he intended but for trial; and therein perhaps proves successful beyond his expectation. How much need have we then both in the temporal, and in the spiritual warfare to keep a strict guard upon ourselves, that the enemy may find no advantage through our neglect? If I be overpowered it is no shane unto me; if I be weight, it is my negligence I can never answer, my misfortune I may: let me do my part unto the full, and then, though the success svit not with my desires, it shall not trouble me. Care, and heed, and vigilance, and attention, are of the essence of war, and it is an indiscreet levity, and of a desperate consequence, to connive at any oversight in this nature. Military discipline, that should be rigid in all things, should be most severe in this, as drawing with it such an error as can never be repaired. Give the enemy by negligence an advantage but once, and he will not ask a second: or if he do, he may shake hands in folly with him that gave it. Let it be the besiegers glory to give frequent alarms, let it be the beseiged's to be provided for them: let it be the assailants province to watch his opportunity of advantage, the defendants not to give it. I am sure the enemy will Alarm me: I am not sure whether in earnest, or in jest: let me expect the worst, and provide for it, and believe firmly there is no other way to be secure. Thus resolved, and thus provided I shall not much need to fear neither when a visible enemy doth besiege my body, nor when an invisible my soul; their alarms are expected to me, their designs not unknown, their spite not hidden: my sentries are set, my guards doubled, my strengths in readiness, my powers at command: if the enemy come on for trial, he shall find small encouragement; if in truth, he shall find strong resistance: the rest I leave to God, who will either so prosper my endeavours, that I shall not miscarry; or else dispose of that disaster( which overtakes me without my fault) some other way, so as, may be both for his glory, and for my good.   

MEDITATION 7.  
Of Ordnance.  
THE several arms, and Engines, and Instruments both of offence and defence used in a siege, are likewise worthy of a distinct and a particular view. The use of of Ordnance with the besiegers is to make their battery: for which purpose they commonly raise works in the night time where to plant their Canon, that so the enemy may not see, nor hinder them▪ until their works be finished. If they do, they are sure to be impeached from the Garrison in the attempt, and to be visited with their Canon, and to be galled with their small shot, if they be within musket reach, and to be attempted by sallies, if the Garrison be strong enough; Both parts having maintained the contest, the one to raise their works, the other to hinder them, till they be done; at last, in spite of opposition( which though it may retard them for a while, is not enough to hinder them for altogether) the enemy then plants his Canon usually on several sides of the garrison, and plyes them to make his breach: the defendant having little all that while to do, because the enemy is almost out of reach of danger, the musket shot of the garrison being useless in regard of distance, and the Canon unlike to do any hurt, the Enemies batteries where he plants his Canon commonly being little, and blinded besides with trees, of purpose, to make his aim that shoots at them more uncertain. So the besieged languishes in this condition; he sees the buildings of the garrison beaten about his ears, his walls broken, his works chiefly aimed at, and continually played upon to make a breach, and all this while little or nothing he can do either to hinder the enemy, or to annoy him. If the Enemy either by view of the place, or by information can discover what part of the garrison is weakest, there he plies it hottest; yet in judging the weakness of a place, it is the advantage of the besieged, that the enemy may be deceived in it, he cannot. His charge is therfore during the battery, to consider all parts of the garrison well, to fortify those that are weak, to observe where the Canon doth most mischief, or is likeliest to make a breach, and there to make new works, or place his choicest engines of offence for slaughter and execution, and to that place to assign his ablest and his stoutest men, that when the enemy shall attempt to enter, he may find such a welcome, as shall give lirle encouragement to press forward. It cannot but touch a generous spirit with a high indignation, to see himself brought to such a condition that he must suffer all, and can do nothing to annoy the enemy: Yet this is the condition of our spiritual war-fare; satan doth us all the mischief that he can, we do him none at all: and surely in the temporal warfare, although in all the harm we do, or would do our enemy, one of our ends be to rid ourselves of the danger and vexation, yet another( in most men) is revenge: for which God having left us no place in our contest with Satan( his miserable condition being uncapable of any access from us) God hath thereby instructed us to apply our minds wholly to our own defence, that so in the conclusion we may come off without considerable loss. In this case it is our duty to consider advisedly where our chief weakness lies, and to expect the enemy should there assail us, if we do not in due time fortify against him: to observe heedfullie what hurt the enemy doth us, where, and how we decay, what new dangers grow upon us by the contest, and where we find him likeliest to make his entrance, there to plant our chief strengths to beate him off again. Be it the temporal, or the spiritual warfare, woe be unto me if I know and see where my fort is weakest, and regard it not; or if I do not know it because I care not to look after it; or if mine enemy know it better then myself; if I see and discern my daily decay, and am not moved at them; or if I discern them not because I am wilfully blind and will not see them. If these accusations lie just against me, what can save me from extreme calamity, which my own guilty soul, and all the world besides shall say falls justly on me, because my negligence hath been supine, and my obstinate persisting therein extreme notorious.   

MEDITATION 8.  
Of granades.  
A Granadoe is an extraordinary great Bullet of drossy iron made hollow, with a fuzie or neck coming out of one side; which fuzie or neck, is filled with several mixtures, and all the hollow part of the bullet with powder and other things combustible and violent: it is shot out of a mortarpeice set in the ground with the mouth upwards, and levelled to mount up into the air until it come just over the place at which it was aimed: upon the discharging of it, the mixtures in the fusie or the neck of the Granadoe is kindled, which burning slowly while it mounteth in the air, first the very weight of it( falling from such a height) breaks through the roof it falls upon, and the next floor, and makes way before it till it come unto the ground: then the powder enclosed in the hollow part of the bullet, and the other combustible things taking fire from the fuzie or neck of the Granadoe, break the bullet all in pieces, and those pieces, flying every way, endanger all that are near them; they break every thing about them; tear up the earth beneath them, and if they chance to light upon any thing easily susceptible of firing, they sometimes kindle it, and that way endanger the place wherein they fall. They are intended both for terror and for destruction: destruction both of the places and of the persons whereat they are aimed. And it is of all hands acknowledged, that no engine or instrument of war dothmore mischief, nor imprints a greater, or a juster terror. How unhappily witty men are to invent daily new instruments of mischief to one another! Me thinks it should be but a melancholy speculation in a man's serious retirement to think, that he could never device any thing to save the life of one, and yet he hath devised that which hath taken away the lives of thousands: that he hath been the author of much mischief to them, to whom he never was the author of any good: that many places curse his fatal wit, that never had the hap to see his face. And however the expediency of such engines and instruments for military service may be defended from necessity, yet no man will deny but the necessity is hard which forces men to use helps so destructive to mankind. Miserable man! whose life spun out unto the longest is but short, and is yet encompas't with so many kind of dangers, mustered together in such hideous shapes, threatening to cut it off. Yet I confess there is more in the opinion, then in the truth of these things to disquiet us. If I die by a Canon shot, or a Granadoe, I die suddenly, and my pain is quickly at an end; and yet I count it not a sudden death in regard of my soul, because I saw the occasion of my trial coming, and had time enough to prepare myself before it came, by making my peace with God, and with the world: That granted, how much more wretchedly might I have died in my bed, perhaps languishing of a tedious sickness, till I grew a burden both to myself, and all my friends; perhaps racked and tormented with cruel fits of the ston, or of the colic, or of some ulcer in the tender parts, before which I would prefer death a thousand times, and yet should often wish it when I could not have it; perhaps rotting and decaying part by part, with an intolerable stench, which neither I myself, nor any of my friends, nor those whom hire makes stoop to any offices, are able to endure; perhaps smitten by the hand of heaven with a contagious infection, which leaves me desolate in death, with none about me, but those whose sordid avarice strikeing at petty gain, shall make them more ready to set me packing for their own advantage, then to attend me with care and faithfulness in that distress. Besides, he that dies in his bed acquires no honour: he that dies in service doth; if Conscience and loyalty engaged him to it. Lord, grant me but thy grace to live, whilst I live, so as I should; and I will not wish to know when or how I shall die; but shall resolve to think that best which thou shalt sand, and to welcome it with that contentedness and resolution which doth become a man, and much more a Christian.   

MEDITATION 9.  
Of Fire-Balls.  
FIRE-Balls made of powder and pitch and turpentine, and such other stuff, are shot at a house, and where they light they stick and burn for a quarter of an hour together, sometimes longer, and are not to be quench't with water, or any other liquour cast upon them: the usual remedy is to cast wet skins upon them, which( if done in time) doth stifle the fire, and so put it out. Where those helps are not in readiness, they many times do much mischief in a little time. For nothing is more violent then fire, when it hath got the mastery, both destroying all before it, and endangering them likewise very much that come to quench it. How many endeavouring to save that out of the ravenous flames which was dear unto them, have lost themselves? How many have so escaped, that it had been little worse, nay perhaps better for them to have perished? Where the effects of it are most mild, they are sad enough, and extreme full of terror, both to the sufferers, and to the spectators too. Nothing is more in a wise man's care then to prevent this danger, or to suppress it, if it be possible, ere it break out too far. The ordinary casualties of peace instruct us enough how horrid the effects are which follow such disasters: But war adds so much to the horror of them, that here the enemy endeavours to fire several places at once, to the end that men distracted in their cares and fears, may not know which way to turn: And here the usual helps are more to seek, whether of men, or means to put it out; the one having work enough in tending their defence, the other being either not provided, or rather not to be got in every place. Hence it comes many times to pass, that all is left a Sacrifice to the merciless flames, and they rage without restraint, till they have turned all into ashes and desolation. A rueful spectacle for a long time after, to every eye that sees it, and on which a man cannot fix his thoughts, but his heart shall earn, to think how much they suffered that were concerned. From thence how easily may we transfer our thoughts to that sad day, when the whole world shall burn in flames, and the elements shall melt with fervent heat, and therein not only we, and all that we can call ours shall be lost together, but besides, those flames shall be the forerunners of our greatest trial, wherein we must give our account to an impartial judge of all our enmities and contestations, of the justness of the warres that we have undertaken, of the advised and deliberate injuries and mischiefs that we have done, during our enmity to one another; wherein if the Conscience do not acquit us, remaines nothing for us but to be cast into the fire of hell, the fire that shall torment us for ever, and yet not consume us; the fire from which we must hope neither release, nor mitigation; the fire which, though it shall have intensive heat, yet it shall have no light, and so the darkness shall double both the torment, and the terror on us. Who can dwell with this everlasting fire? Or who can abide these continual burnings? And yet abide we must, for escape we cannot, unless the Conscience of a well-led life stand up in judgement to plead for us. Wherein the integrity of an honest heart and the sincerity of a true endeavour to form our actions according to Gods will revealed in his word, will be our best assurance. That( we shall not need to doubt) but for Christ his sake it will be accepted; his merits and satisfaction abundantly supplying what we want. This will create in us a confidence towards God, which being once well settled, neither the eternal fire of hell prepared for the devil and his angells, nor the universal fire which shall consume the World and all things in it, at the last day, nor any accident of fire which may annoy or ruin either our persons, or our estates, or both, here in this world, shall be able to affright us: For even in all these we shall be more then conquerors through him that loved us.   

MEDITATION 10.  
Of Shooting Stones.  
AMongst other things; the besiegers sometimes shoot great stones, either in one piece made into the form of a Bullet, or in great ragged pieces, to scatter as they fall. Their use is, either to advance the battery, or to cut off, as it may happen, some of the souldiers in the Garrison. For those purposes their Canon shot, and their granades are more advantageous, but more chargeable: and these added to other help to amuse the besieged, and to distracted them by their varied, and multiplied dangers. What should we say but that we live in an age fertile in teeming mischief, and luxuriant in inventing varied ways of destruction? It were not hyperbolical to aver that their hearts are as hard, as are the stones they shoot, and as uncapeable of melting or of inteneration. For though the law of arms make it faire to do any thing in the way of open force that may annoy the enemy, yet no law ever did allow men to engage themselves in a desperate contest, and in declared hostility, without first weighing unpartially the justinesse of the cause, and the faire grounds they go upon to be engaged. The neglect of that makes it a murder to him that kills his foe, which he can never answer either to God or man. And in this case, the more active a man is the worse, and the more eager the more wretched, for so his guilt swells higher, and he hath the more to answer for what he doth. Varied inventions to annoy the foe, are but varied sins; and he never hurts his enemy, but he more hurts himself. 'tis but a dear purchase, if I procure other mens sorrows, by mine own sins, and to damnifye them in their estates, or in their persons, damn my own soul. But that assurance, and peace of conscience which the one party wants, the other lightly hath; and if the beseiger err in assailing; the besieged errs not in defending. Hence they come forth many times the prodigies of patience, and of courage, doing, and suffering things beyond belief; and in the variety, and change of dangers that beset them remain themselves unchanged in spirit, and resolution. multiplied engines, and instruments to assail them are but so many spurs to whet their diligence, to rouse up their attention, to quicken their care, to perfect their circumspection, that nothing on their parts may be wanting to their defence, whom( they are thoroughly persuaded) God hath also taken into his protection.   

MEDITATION 11.  
Of poisoned Bullets.  
THose that are called poisoned bullets, are either chawed with mens teeth, or beaten with the sharp end of a hammer to make them ragged; which where they enter, if they lie any time in the flesh, presently rancle, and gangrene, to the endangering of the limb, and many times of the life. Such accidents in the cure enforce always large and dangerous incisions, and sometimes abtruncations, to the great hazard of the patient. We cannot account such inventions less then deeply malicious, and find them most frequent amongst the base sort of people, in whose bosom candour and ingenuity could never find a harbour. A generous mind when it is forced unto it, useth to exercise a faire and noble enmity, scorning to make advantage of those assistances which it cannot own with honor. But a base mind climbs to her end by any means, and deems nothing unworthy that is prosperous. Any villainy is amiable in her eyes, that is successful, and she thinks not how, but what she may attain. We may with envy, in this point reflect upon the honor of the aintient Romans, whose carriage in all hostility was so faire, and open, that we may blushy to think( being convicted of so soul a difference) it should be said that they were heathens, and we are Christians. They shall one day rise up against us, and condemn us for it, when confusion shall fill our faces, and stop our mouths, leaving us nothing to pled in excuse of such soul play. I cannot hope to win them from such courses, that are wedded to them; for course dispositions are scarce capable of culture; nor the base vulgar to be won to any thing that is generous. Leaving them therefore on the Lees of that bad liquour wherewith their earthen vessels were so seasoned at the first that the taste will never out, I shall endeavour to confirm them in the ways of honor, whose birth and breeding hath made them capable of such counsels, and their whole carriage and deportment is of the same piece. Though I scarce think they need it, yet I am confident I cannot offend them by it; and I am sensible withall, that my task is the easier, and I need say the less. go on, brave martiall spirits, in the pursuit of virtue, and of same, which you only know how to court and how to win. The laurel wreathe is your due, and will become you richly, when victory shall find herself dishonoured to have lent any countenance to your pesantlye opposers. They may perhaps commit a rape upon her, and force her for a while, but the just day me and title unto her is yours, and she is but dishonested by such corrivalls. Doubt not but though she absent herself a while, she will return, and loathing their sordid courtship which got her but by chance and know not how to keep her, she will cast them off again, and divest them of that wrongful possession which they had usurped. For you she hath treasured up her choicest glories, and will not prove coy when you wooe her back, but will come, being sought to, in such noble ways; and being come, will not depart for ever.   

MEDITATION 12.  
Of Petarrs.  
A Petarre is an Engine fastened to a Gate, to blow it open, which when it is fired, shivers the Gate to pieces, and lays the entrance open to the assailant. The danger on their part, is the coming near to fasten it, which the besieged endeavour by all possible means to hinder. But be the danger never so great, there want not them which will venture, and come on to fasten it, though they be never so likely to perish in the attempt. In the condition of martiall service it is always so, that all important actions are full of danger. The way to victory is stored with precipices, and death in several kindes lurking in every corner, nay sometimes with open face presented in the most hideous forms, stands awaiting them that venture. Honor is seldom bought at a cheap price: yet it is not accounted dear where a man doth not part with his conscience to purchase it. He that will list himself for the field, must expect the hazard, and resolve to run it: for being once enrolled he can neither go on with safety, nor go back with honor. And sure he that cannot despise danger, was never laid out for a soldier. Be the danger what it will, the commands of a general are to be executed not disputed, and a cheerful and exact obedience best becomes a martiall spirit. They should not know fear that wage war: at least they should be able to cast it out, where judgement tells them that it misbecomes them, and is a hindrance to the perfecting of that work wherein they are engaged. One timorous man, nay one timorous carriage of one man in an army, many times overthroweth the whole enterprise, and draws many thousands with him into one common ruin. Sure he that well considers it, hath not much to fear, where he is sure either to die a Martyr, or come off a conqueror; where he shall not want honor whilst he lives, nor peace of conscience when he dies. Many a man lives too long, that lives with shane: but no man dies too soon, that dies with honor. What is it that I was born into the world, and that I live for, but to serve my God, my King, and Country with my life, and with my fortunes? And this if I have done, although I die at twenty, I have lived more then he that hath spun out a hundred useless yeares. They are not properly said to live, that live but to themselves, having atcheiv'd nothing of goodness, or of glory beyond other men To have filled up the muster, or made one in the number of an army for many yeares together, and in all that time to have no name, or note, is worse then to have been a drone amongst the Bees; because sense only is their guide, but reason should be ours. The weakness of one timorous man doth much mischief, but his example doth a great deal more. And there is nothing wherein it concerns a general to be more vigilant, then to find such cowards out, and to casheire them. A few resolved men, whom danger cannot daunt, shall do wonders; and a man shall scarce attempt any thing, which he shall not find feisible with such assistance. Bequeath fears to women, old men, and children, in whom they are pardonable: in a man they are not: and in a soldier least. Yet I would not have rashness mistaken in stead of valour, nor foole-hardinesse in stead of courage. Fortitude is not blind, nor a just resolution voided of judgement. What he attempts, and why, how he may likeliest carry it, and when the neck of time is to put on, he hath it all premeditated that is truly valiant. The danger of the enterprise comes in but upon the by, and troubles not his thoughts, he reckons it a thing of course, which if it should stop his speed he would reckon that he did stumble at a straw. If any such poor thought steal in upon him at unawares, it is but an inmate, that unregarded may sojourned for a while, but must not dwell nor tarry in a noble bosom. For if he once take notice of it, it must fly. A well resolved man should know no other fear but the fear of God: and if that lead him into the quarrel, no other fear can beate him off again; but he goes on till he arrive( as at his port and haven) either at an honourable death, or a victorious triumph.   

MEDITATION 13.  
Of Intelligence.  
ONE of the essential things in the discipline of war, is to have good intelligence from the enemies quarters, what his strengths are, what his weaknesses, what his store and provisions, what his numbers, what his designs, what his hopes or fears, what his encumbrances: A thing not easily to be learned, nor without great expense; besides that, the parties to be therein employed must be of tried fidelity, of undaunted resolutions, and of no mean parts. A slight recompense will not countervail such an undertaking: Nor is it a business for one man alone to go through with, but he is usually forced to take in many to his assistance, and it is but reason they should share in the reward, that share in the work: Amongst whom if any one prove false, they all miscarry, and the action too. They must be therefore singled out with choice; and a man must be very wary whom he boards in such a business; For, it is a high point of credulity to believe he will be true to me, whom I endeavour to make false where he owes his Faith. Nor are men of ordinary parts fit to be embarked as the chief agents in such an affair. The art of carrying two faces under one hood, and conversing as a friend with them, whom as an enemy he studies to ruin; of corrupting others to betray their trust, and to tread with him the same paths of danger for advantage( when discovery brings certain death, and no less certain shane) asks a practised machiavellian, verst in all kind of subtleties and guiles, and perfect in disguising his intents. That these Arts are honest, is more then I dare affirm: yet that they are necessary, in time of war, is that which most men aver. But God help us, if that were necessary which were not honest. So much I shall venture to determine; That he which gains his sovereign intelligence of any thing that may conduce unto his safety, doth but what is honest, and that to which he is tied by the oath of alleigeance: But he that discovers his sovereigns designs unto his enemy, or corrupts his Subjects in their loyalty, making them, for private gain, the instruments of a public ruin, is a traitor in the highest kind, and aiming at wicked ends, endeavours to compass them by as unlawful means. Let such men be assured, that both a certain, and a great damnation doth attend them; from which they have less hope than other men to escape by repentance, because we do not find, that God ever gave it unto such a traitor. How miserable in the mean time is their condition, that bargain their own certain damnation on such terms? the danger great, the reward little, the performance doubtful, the infamy certain, even with those whom they have so basely served, but much more with the other party; for even those that most court their assistance, do hate their persons, and when their use is at an end, cast off the property with which they acted. If fordid avarice did not blind them, they must needs see, that those which have once falsified their saith, must ne're be trusted more; and they that would be once corrupted, must ne're be used again. If they fail of their promised rewards, with what face can they complain of others falsehood, that are conscious of their own? or murmur because their fellowes have deceived them, when they have deceived their Master? poor, and wretched, and discontented may they perish, begging their bread in desolate places, where they shall find no hand to relieve them, nor no eye to pity them, whose Faith gold can corrupt, and make them disloyal to their King and Country. Leaving them to him that will find them out in their falsehood, we may without offence bewail our own condition, whose greatest danger is from one another, and that so close and secret, that it is not easily avoided. suspicion and circumspection are our only helps, which though they be both equally necessary, yet suspicion is liable to construction, and scarce thought consistent with the candour of an ingenuous natur. For it is usually said; Good men do not misdoubt that in others, which they would not do themselves; and therefore are as tender to wrong other men by suspicion, as they would be sensible to be so wronged themselves. truly I should wish that suspicions might not be discovered till presumptions grow strong, and begin to neighbour upon proof; yet in public concernments I would have them always waking, and even then most busy when they are least detected; for suspicion quickens observation, and observation draws probabilities, and probabilities make conjectures, which by the weight of circumstances laid together, at length amount to proofs, whereby when we have discovered what we sought, we need not blushy that they took their rise from such beginnings. It is the best advantage in this case to be quick-sighted, and quick-sented, that we may prevent these treacheries, which being once enacted, can ne're be cured.   

MEDITATION 14.  
Of Battering, or Blowing-up of Magazines.  
THE chief strength of a Garrison is their store of powder, and shot, and match; if these once fail, the Garrison( though never so strong by situation, or by art) is no longer tenible. The powder amongst the rest, is subject to most casualties, and the mischief that follows by any mischance coming to it, both most fearful in the effects, and most irrecoverable in the loss: for all flies up in an instant, and all remedies come too late to prevent that desolation which such an accident doth leave behind it. Therefore it is safest lodged under ground, in some battery made every way both on the top, and on the sides, Canon and Granadoe proof. Yet the enemy, not ignorant of the advantage to reach that store, learning first where it lies,( which every workman that hath been employed in the garrison cannot but know) takes all his aim that way, and directs all his shot both with his Canon, and with his mortar-peeces to the magazine, as to the center of his hopes. In a word, to destroy that is the assaylant's chiefest care, and to preserve it, the defendants. And surely it must not be accounted a small matter upon which all depends: nor is it sufficiently attended by an ordinary care, which hath an extraordinary concernment▪ who would not lift hard at that part, which must needs quickly set a period to the whole? The things that are most necessary, and most useful are most in danger: the rest we can permit unto an enemy, and not grudge him the fruition; because the chief being mastered the rest will follow upon course. In the preservation of these how many times is providence deceived? how many times is all the care, and pains and cost bestowed to save, and to secure them utterly cast away? and in the twincling of an eye those stores blown up, which were a long time in providing, and we reckoned that a long time they should have lasted. Such is the flitting vanity of all human hopes, a long time in hatching, and in cherishing, but blasted in an instant: much care, and cost, and toil to gather that together, which by some undreamt of accident vanishes of a sudden. No folly therefore so great, as to count their fruition certain; or to reckon that our own, which every minute may be taken from us. A wise man enjoys them so that he bears always a mind prepared to loose them; and though he have resolved to slacken nothing of that fit care which may secure them, yet he forgets not that chance over masters providence, and unexpected accidents in spite of all our care will intervene, to disturb our affairs, and elude our expectation. Yet in these accidents he reads a higher providence then his own, to which all those things are certain which are contingent unto us. That providence can never be deceived, ours may, and is. And if we have but patience to wait the event, we shall easily discern how it forms all things for the best, even those which seemed most casual in their nature, and most bitter for the present. It is true, that commonly our affection to these things is more, or less, as was the time, and care, and cost, and pains which were employed about them: for those things we love better, and part with more unwillingly, which are set off to our acceptation by such indeerements. Yet when we are conscious to ourselves of no neglect in that fitting, though not anxious care, which we did use to keep them, if an unexpected accident, which we could neither probably have foreseen, nor easily have prevented force them out of our hands, we are to reckon that God requires them back again, against whose pleasure to repined cannot become our duty. Thou o God that hast given all, take what thou wilt, take it how, and when thou pleasest, take it in an instant, take it when I least suspect it, onely take not my patience from me, nor my obedient submission unto thy blessed will, take not my faith from me, whereby I am thoroughly persuaded that all my sufferings shall turn to my advantage, nor take not thy love and mercy from me, which may preserve my soul, however my body or my estate miscarry.   

MEDITATION 15.  
Of destroying Provisions.  
OF how much importance to the lives of the Besieged their provisions of food are, stored up for many daies, no man but understands. The destroying of those provisions when they are laid in, is likewise a main endeavour of the adversary, which, when he doth or can learn where they are stored, he failes not to attempt. For if those fail, he knows they cannot hold out: His design therefore is either to let in water upon them, if they lye low, or to fire or blow them up, if they lye high, or by any means to destroy that of a sudden, which should have maintained the Garrison for many moneths. The Governour's care must be to secure it where it lies, and to husband it with thrift, that neglect may not lavish that in a few, which discretion might have drawn out for many monthes. If in these things he leave the soldier to himself, he shall find them, in the general, addicted to enjoy the present, improvident of the future; indulgent to themselves, studious of ease and plenty, averse to labour, impatient to be stinted, and never sitting down by such conditions, but when they are over-ruled; What therefore he doth not incline to of himself, he must be made by discipline; let him feed to day as he may feed to morrow: let him work to day, as he may feed to morrow: spare not his pains where it may save his life: bring him to his allowance before it be too late: if his store be not safe, let him make it: if by any endeavour of the assailant it be endangered, let him remove it: if it be like to fail by the continuance of the siege, let him spare it: what providence hath laid in, let discretion dispense: what wisdom hath laid up, let diligence preserve. Let not the enemy without destroy, nor the garrison within consume what may well be saved. Want of food always pinches, but never so sharply, as when our own hearts tell us, that if we had been so careful as we should, we had not wanted it. Lord, let me not want discretion to moderate myself at all times, that I may never offend thee by excess! Let me not want judgement to discern the difference of times, to temper myself more strictly when there is more need! if I want these myself, let me not want governours and tutors, or overseers, by whose timely providence I may be more safe then I had been by my own! nor let them want sharpness to discern, nor courage to execute what should be done in such exigencies; nor I, will for to obey them! and then I doubt not, but that in the greatest straights I shall never want bread, or at least never want thy support, who hast taught me, that man lives not by bread only, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God.   

MEDITATION 16.  
Of Cutting, or draining Waters from a Garrison.  
HUNGER and THIRST are coupled commonly as fellowes, both sorely annoying the health, and equally endangering the life of man. Yet of the two,( both naturalists, and experience itself attesting the same) it is confessed, that thirst is the sharper, and the more incomportable. Besides that the annoyance of unholsome beveridg is more destructive, then of unwholesome food, and the sad effects of it more sudden, and more pernicious. For many things may be found for food, when customary provisions fail, which though they be not so agreeable with our constitution, yet they are not contrary in an extreme degree, but so as even unto them the stomach may enure itself by degrees, and be able in some measure to bear the change: but if it come once to that pass that water cannot be had, all other liquours( of which such a proportion may be hoped, as to sustain life) must needs be such, as a small trial shall evince to be destructive unto nature. Not to speak of the want of it to dress any kind of food, nor of the noisome stench, and inevitable nastiness which follows upon the want of it for other uses. If therefore the spring or rivers that water a garrison can be dreyned, or cut off, there will need no other sword to cut the gordian knot of that contest. Surely it is not easy to conceive but by trial( which God grant we never may) how intolerable the torments are which they endure, whose bowels are shrunk with thirst, their flesh dried up, and withered, their inwards flaming with intensive heat, their hearts, and spirits fainting, their tongues cleaving to their dry senates, the light of their eyes dimmed, and the whole man flavescent and decayed, and wearied with the drought which he can bear no longer. Civility scarce bears the mention of those things, which in such extremes are eagerly hunted after, and greedily drunk off to quench thirst. Nor is it onely in a siege that men are so oppressed, in hot services, and cruel battailes, disputed long and eagerly on both sides; in long and speedy marches; in necessitated journeys by secret, and untrodden paths for fear of enemies men meet the same affliction. And when I remember how frequent all these are amongst us in these times, and how many men have been brought, by these several means, to the very gates of death, if not utterly destroyed by extreme thirst, it makes me apt to think that God intends to upbraide us with that infamous, and sinful height of drinkeing which hath been so universally received, and practised among all sorts of people. It is but just that they should want water, that would endure no stint in wine; that they that wantoned in variety of liquours should want any that is wholesome: that they which drunk continually when they had no thirst, should thirst when they have no drink: that they which inflamed themselves willingly by excess, should be inflamed by drought against their wills, for want of a cup of could water to refresh their entrails. Those that are now most deaf to these instructions, will resent them most deeply then; and their own guilt awakened by their affliction will double their sorrows on them, and make that cross more heavy unto them then others. Besides that the habit of drinking makes an unnatural thirst, and calls more eagerly for those supplies, which being not to be had, make the want more afflictive. A temperate man bears thirst a great deal better; and is also free from those secret stings of guilt, and bath a stronger hope, and better grounded, that God will one way, or other sand him release. If it come not, yet his account is cast, and he submits unto the will of God: by whose special favour( no man ever did deny it) in one and the same condition of want either of meats, or drinks, all men do not feel the same degree of torment, nor have not the same sharpness of hunger, or of thirst upon them. God makes the difference where he pleases: never without just cause, always well known to him, though sometimes unknown to us.   

MEDITATION 17.  
Of Under-mineing.  
WHERE the Trenches without the works are dry, and the ground not rock, or stony, on which the Garrison stands, it is an usual practise to under-mine, and when they have brought the Mine unto the Works, to blow it up with powder. The endeavour of the besieged is to find out the practise( for which they have certain proofs) to mark which way they work, and counter-mine them. What in open view cannot be attempted, seems to be undertaken with more safety under ground. Yet no sooner is a new way found out to annoy, then new ways are found out on the other side to prevent that annoyance: God having made man as ingenious to invent things for his own defence, as to do mischief. And it is well provided for human safety, that where malice hath a sword, innocence should have a buckler; and where the assailant may infest, the defendant may not want a cure. Wherein it is just with God that the mischief of the first mover should fall sometimes upon his own head, and he be caught in his own craft, and taken in his own snare; that a mine should by a counter-Myne be brought to nothing, and not only their labour lost that wrought in it, but many times their persons too. Such are the hazards of these attempts, which yet cannot deter the undertakers from adventuring. But it is no news to see desperate gamesters wage great stakes, and venturous Merchants engage themselves far, when they are come to such a state that a small adventure cannot keep them up. It is the highest part of wisdom to weigh things well at first, whilst yet a man is free, and hath as full power of himself, as he can wish; many a man hath wished that he could have gone back, when it hath been too late; and hath repented in vain his rash engaging of himself to those dangers, which perhaps he had never known if he had not tried. In the bowels of the earth he that digs out new ways, and through that covert darkness makes his passage, must not wonder to meet with accidents to which he is a stranger, and those such as do bring dangers with them, for which he could provide no remedy, because he did not expect them. In those caverns, what more usual then sudden eruptions of waters, sometimes in great abundance; then strange and malignant sulphureous vapours, which suffocate the spirits, and prove suddenly mortal to those that meet them in so penned a passage? Many have gone into those Mines as to their graves, and have come out no more; the very place itself, without any person to annoy them, proving their Sepulchre. Yet few can be persuaded that they dig their own graves, but( carried on with rage and with desire) promise themselves a safe return from thence, where death in more then one shape doth attend them. He needs no goad or spur that is pricktt on by avarice, by envy, or ambition, by spleen or malice, or any of those vices which in the weakest mindes take greatest hold, and blind the judgement so, that it cannot justly weigh what it doth undertake. Hence it is that they press on to danger after danger, and cannot rest or stop, till they have tried all the ways either above ground or under, which may lead unto their ends. Nor do they at all consider how full they are of hazard, or how sinful, but how necessary for their designs, which they resolve to carry( if it be possible) although both soul and body perish in the attempt. Lord, keep us from the mastery of these vices, which drive men over all precipices into destruction! and let us so conscientiously weigh that which we undertake, that whether we live, or die in the attempt, we may be thine, and no danger, no not all the dangers of this life be able to separate our souls from thee!   

MEDITATION 18.  
Of entering a Breach.  
THE entering of a breach, is of all the services in war the most desperate: for it is the entering upon the mouth of the Canon, upon the muzzle of the musket, upon the point of the pike, besides trains of powder to be expected from beneath, and showers of stones, and bullets from above, with the mortal stroke of the bill or halberd when they come within the reach, and the carbyne and pistol, and pole-axe standing at the receipt, if they break through the rest: insomuch that it seems almost a miracle any man should escape that comes on with the first, till multitude( oppressing, and tireing the defendants) have made the passage both more safe and easy. Yet after all this loss many times the attempt miscarries, when the defendant perceiving where the breach was likely to be made, hath raised new works within, and so beats the assailant off with no small detriment. How hard and desperate are the services which avarice, and ambition, and stomach, we may say( but too often) which the world and the devil puts us on upon! and yet how cheerfully, how resolvedly do we undergo them! How faire, and easy, how safe and secure those that God puts us on upon, and yet how hardly are we drawn on, and how soon do we recoil! How few are they that venture their estates, their lives, or limbs to save their Consciences? or that are willing to endanger themselves to serve their God? A better Master I am sure we cannot serve; whose commands are more just, whose ends are more noble, whose rewards are more certain, whose acceptation of our endeavours is more gracious, whose love to us is more unchangeable, whose care of us is greater, whose protection is more safe, or whose service is more honourable. Yet not only danger, but the very shadow of danger staggers us in our obedience towards him. Full we are of delays and of excuses; could and timorous and doubtful, and full of scruples: One while a beam, another while a mote is in our eyes, and they cannot be cast out: one while we stumble at a block, another while at a straw, and cannot be got forward: after much spurring on, if we begin, we strait grow faint and weary: every discouragement puts us off again, and makes us look back after we have put our hands unto the Plough, It is easy to infer that our affection unto God and goodness, is less then to these worldly things, when we may have them, and yet will not buy them at a far easier rate. If my tie to God were not greater, my sin were less; now my fault is double, that where I owe more, I pay less; and where I owe less, I pay more. Yet I would not be understood, as if I went about to discourage a soldier in his obedience to his commander set over him by his Prince, so long as he continues loyal to him that placed him; the Souldiers obedience( be the danger what it will) cannot be too cheerful, too punctual, or too resolved. Yet God must not be forgotten to whom our obedience is due in the first place. I am sure he cannot err in his commands, but all men may: What he requires is ever just and lawful; they may( and do require sometimes) that which is otherwise. Shall every man be judge then of his Superiors commands, and take upon him to dispute them, or suspend his obedience till he be satisfied? far be that from my thoughts; neither the rules of policy, nor of divinity allow it. In things not simply, indisputably, and manifestly evil, they must be obeied, and that without disputing: wherein if they should err that do obey, being put on that which were not lawful, God would require it at their superiors hands, which did not weigh with judgement what they did command; but not at theirs, whose duty was obedience. Our obedience to God can admit no exception, and yet we halt in that a great deal more: But a weak eye may discern the fountain of this difference. A corporal, a visible, a sensible, a present punishment which may be inflicted doth overawe us, when we neglect the execution of their commands whom a Prince hath set over us: And the discipline of war requires that it be rigorously inflicted, lest that disobedience be drawn into example; but the punishment of our disobedience to God being invisible, and the time uncertain when it shall be inflicted, encourages fond men to be over-indulgent to themselves, when they see they cannot serve God but with loss and danger. Such are we all, if God leave us to ourselves, could for the most part in his cause, though forward, and stout enough in other things.   

MEDITATION 19.  
Of scaling-Ladders.  
TO mount up the Works, whether they storm with, or without a breach, is on the assailants part, an achievement for men of no mean resolutions: For when it comes to that pinch the annoyances of great and small shot grow hot and thick, the pike, and the bill, and the sword are not idle, every ston is moved by the defendants that may retard the work, or put it back. The ladder hath not more rounds, then the whole work hath steps of danger from the first unto the last. Yet this slow matureing of their hopes, bought at such a vast expense of blood, and cost, men are content with patience to expect. Lord, what a ticeing bayt is golden hope! how unwillingly are men brought to lay it down? how small a glimpse of it gives them full high content? how easily they believe, that all things tend that way which they would have them? how apt are they to boast the little they have done, whilst they utterly forget the much that is behind? No wings are swifter then the wings of hope, which measure the greatest distances, and overcome the sorest heights, and seize the richest preys even in an instant. difficulty is a trifle,& danger is a toy before her: she knows no limits, but desire;& whatever that fancies, or fastens on, she reckons it her own. But such hasty teemers many times bring forth blind whelps. Golden dreaimes do not fill waking purses. The anchor of hope doth not always find firm ground to fasten on; nor doth it always take, though the ground serve. Both piety, and prudence must attend it if hope make us not ashamed: for success itself cannot take off the disparagement of that design, which was ill laid. Not what may come to pass, but in probability what will, is the wise mans rule: and then he reckons too, that the gain must countervail the hazard, and that he will not pay more for the purchase then it is worth: above all, that he will not cast his soul into the scale, nor his conscience into the bargain, nor venture himself, nor his men into those dangers, wherein they cannot hope for God's assistance. These things first weighed, though he give his hope the wing, yet he lets her fly but at command. This makes him speed so well, whilst other wanton gamesters, after their large promises unto themselves, and their vain brags to others, carry nothing home with them out of the field, but shane, and discontent.   

MEDITATION 20.  
Of Trenches and Batteries.  
IF the assailant intend not a sudden storm, then he casts up Trenches to secure his men, and raises batteries to plant his ordnance, from whence they may play upon the garrison with more advantage. In the trenches the besieged can annoy him less: from the batteries he can annoy them more: and both parts are equally in his thoughts, as well to preserve his own men, as to destroy the enemy. Indeed the great masters of war have determined that it more concerns a general to save one of his own men, then to destroy ten of the enemies: And if they be veteran bands, and tried souldiers, the reasons are apparent: their approved fidelity, and affection to their leader, their courage and valour discovered by many trials, their judgment to know in service what should be done, and their readiness to do, springing from use and exercise, sets the price upon them. If they perish and miscarry, though those that shall be listed in their rooms may have as much spirit and courage, as much faith and honesty, yet their Leader cannot have so much confidence of them till he have tried them: besides that their knowledge, and activity for service must be a work of time. add to these that nothing can be more pernicious to a Commander, then to have it reported, and believed of him that he valves his Souldiers cheap, and cares not how many of them he casts rashly away in any desperate employment. It is but just that he should want souldiers when he needs them, that will not cherish and spare them when he hath them: make but their hearts your own, and you shall not need to fear that you shall want their hands. Just as they think they are esteemed they make their return, and he must never hope to have their service, that doth not seem careful both of their safety, and their accommodation. To provide well for the destruction of the enemy, and to order and contrive all things for the best advantage for the perfecting of that work, is a noble care, and well becoming a Commander: but they seem things inconsistent, to be careful to destroy the enemy, and to be careless to preserve his own, without which the enemy can never be destroyed. And in the long process of a war, he that in every new action or expedition is put to use new men, because his old are lost, in probability, if he succeed in one action shall miscarry in many; and if he perfect his work at last to his desire, he shall owe it more to fortune, then to prudence, as having gone against the Principles of war, and reason. Nor must he ever hope to be listed amongst great names in after-times which carries a business with so great a loss, that he hath scarce any of his soudiers left, to share with him in the success; that shared in the first undertakeing. Protection, is the first, and greatest thing expected from a leader, and he wrongs both himself, and all his undertakeings, which doth not study to make that virtue so conspicuous, that thereby he may both endear his own, and 'allure other men unto his service. It is a noble and a brave approach to the divine nature, and makes men like to God, whose glory it is to keep them safe that have given up their names to him, and to provide so that none of them may perish, nor any man be able to take them out of his hands.   

MEDITATIONS 21.  
Of Hills and Rocks.  
SUCH places as are naturally either stony or mountainous, are easiliest made tenible, and fittest to plant a Garrison: for in such places the access is difficult, the ascent disadvantageous, the undermining some times impossible, and in all these respects, the defence both more easy, and more certain. And truly it is no wonder to find, that nature should outdo art, and such a petty circumstance as the situation of a place advantage a business more, then human industry. Indeed Art perfects nature, and some small addition it may make, where she finds the most material parts of the work ready done to her hand: but if God, and nature( subordinate to him, working all things according to the good pleasure of his will) did not in most things provide better for us, then we can for ourselves, we should soon perceive that Art were beggarly, and human industry a toy, for the effecting of such mighty works as we confidently propound unto ourselves, and hope to carry. How often we have found ourselves in these things deceived, how often we have come off with shane, and loss, and miscarried in our undertakeings, none of us but remember. The vanity of daring much many are guilty of, and it hath been their punishment to find by trial that they attempted things beyond their strength. To follow nature as a guide, and tread heedfully in those steps wherein she goes before us, and hath prepared the way for our abridgement, not arrogateing, or ascribeing too much to our own art, and industry▪ nor swelling our hopes too high when their foundation is but sandy, is a safe rule, which they that heedfully observe, seldom miscarry. It is a great ingratitude, not to aclowledge the helps and advantages of business that Nature lends us; and not to use them is not to aclowledge them. But necessity( a good schoolemistresse, though a sharp one) enforces us to use them; and when we have used them, the world sees how much we owe for them, though we would dissemble it. It is Gods wisdom so to provide, that in great undertakings, and in sore distresses, the least part of mans safety should come from himself, who being the searcher of the heart knows full well, how apt we are to arrogate too much unto ourselves, and how loathe to impart the glory of an action to any second causes. Nothing more necessary then to beate down that pride: and that is done no way better then when it is made visible to sense, so that he that runs may read it, how much Nature( God's great vicegerent) hath contributed to those works, whereof vain man assumes the glory to himself. Lord, so direct me in all worldly things( those especially that concern my own safety, and defence, with other mens) that I may never neglect any thing which art or industry may add to perfect nature: yet withall that I may in all humility acknowledge what helps thou the God of nature dost afford me, that I may thereby make thy glory the more, though mine own be the less.   

MEDITATION 22.  
Of Motes.  
A Mote large and deep, fed with natural springs, is one of the best defences to a Garrison: for many things concur to make it difficult to be passed over: the uncertainty of the depth in several places, the slipperiness of the footing, the mud in the bottom, the precipicies of the banks, besides the strengths planted on the other side, to impeach both the entering and the landing. If boats, or bridges be put over, they are easily broken or sunk. Horses are as easily disordered, and not easily managed, or commanded in such an onset: and the wading of foot, above the rest most hopeless, and most desperate. Every slip brings almost certain death, and there is almost as much danger from the water beneath, as from the enemy above. Water is the emblem of trouble, and in such attempts men have both the shadow and the substance before their eyes, both the type, and the affliction typified at once before them. But what is it which industry and courage doth not persuade itself that it may overcome? Sure it hath overcome so many difficulties, and effected things so strange, and so unlikelie, as have scarce found belief, when they have been acted. If the cause be good, and the attempt just, wherein men may hope God's assistance shall not be wanting to them, it is their glory not to deal with a slacken hand; but both in assaulting and defending to acquit themselves like men, remembering their duty and their obligations. 'tis a sad spectacle in such an onset, to see how many men miscarry on both sides, and in how many sorts: but tender pity can have no place in such extremities. After the service done, it may perhaps not misbecome a soldier to  shed a tear over a noble enemy, whose gallan●… carriage in the action forced a kind of envy and esteem even from the very foe( for it is the power of virtue, even there to win applause, where it doth most mischief, and to gain their approbation, who are most damnified by it). yet during the time of action, pity must have no place in a martiall breast; nor can it become a soldier to think what he hath done, how sad, how cruel, how hideous, how universal a destruction he hath made, how many, or how gallant men he hath cut off, till danger give him breath, and action allow him truce from execution, and security afford him leisure to entertain those speculations. Then let him put on pity, and it shall not misbecome him; let him sheathe his sword, and sound his retreat, and set a period to his rage and spare those in could blood whom he is not enforced to kill. If he have provided both for his present, and his future safety, we can expect no more, and pity takes place in him too soon, if he provide for less. He shall never acquit himself in point of discretion, which hath spared them that afterwards may ruin him; nor he in point of honour, who hath cruelly butchered them, that could not hurt him. The eye must not see their wounds, nor the ear hear their groans, nor the heart pity their distresses, which fall in the heat of contestation, whilst yet the fortune of the enterprise hangs in suspense, and the controversy is undecided. All that while valour stirs up valor, and courage provokes courage, and the eagerness of opposing whets the eagerness of defending, and those that decline no danger, nor spare no labour whilst they strive to win, teach the enemy to spare no labour, nor decline no danger for to keep his fort. To drown them, to shoot them, to blow them up, to knock them down, mingle-mangle, and dismember them, any way to force them back, or disable them from coming on, is all his care; and he cares not which way he doth it, so he can do it at all. When all is done, he will not envy him( that did deserve it) the acknowledgement of a brave assault, of a gallant onset; nor the enemy him, of a stout repulse, and a resolved defence. For those that miscarried, then comes in pitty too, although too late; too late I mean for the party pitied to receive any benefit, more then a sprinkling of honour upon his ashes, and the crowning his memory with a faire report. Such are the sad enforcements of bloody war, unfit to be committed to their managing in whose tender bosoms compassion is known to dwell, or pity to make an easy entrance.   

MEDITATION 23.  
Of Fortifying.  
WHERE Nature hath done little, Art and industry must do the more to make a place strong. Waters must be drawn( if it be possible) about the works, where they were not before. The works must be raised high, and made thick and deep. The batteries must be made at a convenient distance, that they may scour the trenches. An equal Care must be had in all, that the souldiers in the garrison, may both with ease annoy the enemy without, and himself be safe within from their annoyance. The thought of cost or trouble are in this case to be laid aside, for these things are not to be done as they should, without a vast charge. They may be justly reckoned amongst works of magnifience, wherein men are to be guided by their honour, not their expense, and to consider how the work may be done most exactly, not most cheap. Sordid avarice, of all men, doth least become a soldier, and he to whom his honor is not dearer then his advantage, was in an unlucky minute trusted with these employments. They are not without much caution to be entertained that make the war a trade, and have an eye upon the raising of a fortune by their undertakings. Pettye sparings many times bring great mischiefs, and a little saved proves a great deal lost. They have commonly but narrow minds, that desire to have large purses: for how should they venture much, that are willing to spend nothing? I confess I have not often known a truly valiant spirit hidebound, or covetous: they rather incline unto the other extreme, and lavish madly, what they get easily. But for their own particular let it be as it may, questionless for the public good it were better, that a soldier should be prodigal, then covetous: though he bears away the palm, that knows both where to spend, and how to spare. And let him spare, in these occasions, no more his souldiers pains, then his own purse. When the fortification is finished they may be allowed their ease; but till then, they must be encouraged that are willing, and forced that are unwilling to undergo their task. Yet I remember it was a main part of the Roman discipline( who did wonders in war above all other people) never to let the common soldier rust in sloth, and idleness. If the war found them no employment, they kept them exercised in making cawsewayes, and bridges, and aqueducts, and raising towers, and bulwarks, in foraging the countries, and bringing in provisions for store before they needed them: whereby they did not only much advance their main designs, and prevent many mutinies( which floth and idleness use to breed( but besides ( which was their chiefest aim) they hardened the soldier to endure, and made him patient of labour, that when an extrordinary occasion of trial came, he could go through with that, under which other men did usually faint, and sink. It is an error in discipline, by all means to be rooted out of the souldiers mind, that his work is but to fight; and that he must be maintayn'd many monthes useless and idle, for one dayes service; and for that daies service too, he is become more unfiting by his sloth and idleness. If this could be cured. I should make little doubt, but that they which do nothing now might do much, and they which do little, might do more. Yet when they do what they can, assistance must be taken in upon the Commanders charge, that under many hands the work may go on apace: for in fortifying speed is of great concernment, it being the height of honor to have such a work fiinish't, before the enemy know that it was undertaken. If he have inkling of it, it is to be expected that he will do all he can to hinder it: and all the Governours cost, and souldiers pains is utterly cast away, if that be not prevented. Here therefore he must clap on both wings and spurs, and spread all his sails to catch a faire gale, whilst occasion lasts, that within his works finished unto his mind, he and his may ride as in a harbour secure and quiet.   

MEDITATION 24.  
Of palisadoes.  
palisadoes are flat stakes driven three or four foot deep into the earth, and made sharp at the top; and they have sometimes spikes of iron driven through near the top, or turned back again like hooks to catch off their apparel that would climb over them: they are driven in some of them into the earth on the outside of a mote, where they stand upright like a pale round about the mote, some of them into the sides of the works and batteries in a continued row with the points outwards; and where the works are high, there is a double row of them, to hinder the enemy from climbing up when he comes to storm, and to bear off the scaleing ladders from the works. For these, as for other occasions, it is easily discerned. that of all other trades Carpenters, and smiths are essential to a garrison, it cannot subsist without them. Which they know so well, that they value their labours accordingly, and see most excessive rates upon those that are most necessitated for to use them. A base, and wicked practise, though very common, and which savours little of a man, less of a christian. humanity teaches men to show a chearefullnesse to help in the time of need: and charity, to afford that help at easier rates then at other times, and to consider, not so much the need men have of our assistance, as the ill condition they are in to buy it at too high a price. But we sing these lessons unto them, whose ears are deaf to counsel, their breasts mere strangers to compassion, and their rude mindes uncapeable of civill, or of sacred culture▪ Artisans, and mechanics have commonly a genius by themselves quiter of another air from other men, and you shall not find amongst them one of a thousand, varying in disposition from his fellow, or made( in the least degree that can be imagined) of a better mould. Their eyes are all fixed upon their profit, and you shall not drive them from their hold, or make them turn one hairs breadth from their bias, to do any thing out of pity, or out of conscience. A true soldier cannot converse with them without indignation: for then him, nothing is more generous, then them, nothing more base. And that may well be reckoned one of the miseries of war, that necessity should enforce a noble spirit to take their assistance, which he can neither want with safety, nor have for reason. And, which must needs trouble him more, he hath not that refuge left, to cudgel them into manners, or beate sense into them: for if he once do so, the first opportunity they have to depart, he hears of them no more, but hath his business left in the suddes, when it concerns him most to have it finished. But it is the wisdom of a Commander not to see what he cannot help, and not to check at those distastes, which after a contest he shall be forced to swallow upon worse conditions. scorn, and neglect are the best fence against these annoyances, and a resolution not to let his undertakings stand, how ever unreasonable, or unconscionable they be, in demanding excessive rates, or in their slothful doing of the work whom he is constrayn'd to use. Their sin be to themselves, his patience is his honor, which triumphs over their unworthiness, and will carry him without perturbation to his noble ends, in spite of all discouragements from them, which can never do him wrong, because they never come unexpected.   

MEDITATION 25.  
Of sentries.  
THE sentries office is to look to every part of the cost, and give notice if the enemy approach, or any stranger or suspected person: and when he comes near to question him, and to stay him, or to shoot at him, and give warning to the garrison. To this purpose he is set on a tower, or a battery, the places most advantageous from whence he may discover any thing: Other sentries placed at the doors or entrances into a Governours, or a Commanders lodging, are rather grown matter of state, and form, then of concernment. It is an office of much consequence, and a high degree of trust, and such a one as upon which depends the whole good of the garrison; wherein a little negligence may do much mischief. He supplies the place of the eye in the natural body, which if it be asleep when it should wake, the neglect may prove pernicious, and irrecoverable. It is therfore well provided in the way of discipline, that the punishment of such offenders should be severe, sometimes no less than death; because the lives of so many do depend upon it. And truly a discreet man may think himself rather honoured then burdened in this office, and should need no spur to quicken him to the discharge of it. Nature itself instructs every man so far in the concernments of it, that he undergoes it for the most part, with much cheerfullnesse, and much fidelity: for he knows, that if he do not take his turn to wake whilst others sleep, he must not sleep whilst others wake; if he be not willing to look out for other mens safety, why should other men look out for his? God hath in wisdom provided, that all men should need these offices, to make them the more willing to undergo them. When, or from whence, or by what means the enemy will attempt us, we cannot tell: perhaps by day, perhaps by night, perhaps from such a quarter where we do least suspect him; perhaps in troops, or with united strengths, perhaps alone upon particular design: a careful watch to discover all, makes men to fear nothing. The danger is to be surprised, to be found unprovided, and taken in disorder, and unreadinesse; thereupon follows confusion, and where that leads, destruction for the most part follows after. To be forewarned of approaching dangers is the life of safety: if I miscarry because the watchman warns me not, the sin is his; if after he hath warned me, the sin is mine: in this case my blood falls upon mine own head, in that on his. Which since it holds for an undoubted truth, as well in spiritual, as in temporal dangers, in how sad a condition must the most of us needs think ourselves to be, who have so often turned a deaf ear unto the spiritual charmer, and being warned of those dangerous enemies that lye in wait for our souls, and of their frequent attempts to do us mischief, yet sleep in security, and will not be drawn off from our sensual, and worldly pleasures, and delights to save our poor souls from utter perishing? But what shall we say? the glory of the whole work must be almighty God's: he must give the Seer, the spiritual watchman grace for to discharge his duty, and give us warning: and he must give us grace to take that warning, when it is given us. Let us therefore make it our daily request to God, that they may never be wanting unto us, nor we wanting to ourselves, they that are entrusted with that office in discovering, nor we in avoiding those dangers, which may bring certain ruin and destruction, either to soul, or body.   

MEDITATION 26.  
Of Guards.  
THE Guards are to second the sentries upon all occasions, either by their united strength, if there be occasion for them to interpose, or by a more strict examination of any person, that is transmitted to them as suspected. They are kept night, and day, and relieved, as the sentries, by turns; He that hath the charge of the Guard in the night time, is to walk the round at times: and to see that the Guard tend in their places with their arms in readiness, and the Centrie be not out of his station, nor found sleeping. How brittle a point is man's safety? and upon how many tickle points it hangs? One neglect is enough to ruin us, many cares scarce enough to save us: in a minute comes a mischief without cure, and robs us of the fruit of that vigilance, and circumspection, that had been kept erect for many monthes together. The life of man were hardly worth the anxieties, and cares that go to the keeping of it: and many men would give the world cause to believe they think so, but that their honor lies at stake with it, and with that their conscience, more precious to them by much odds then life can be. To be conscious of the least degree of neglect, whereby all these may be shipwrecked together must needs trouble a good man, and you shall not find him liable to that accusation. When his own safety, and other mens, his reputation, and loyalty, and Religion are all bound in one bundle, and all lye at one stake, he will not loose that game by oversight, but play it with all the heed, and skill he hath. An error in the first concoction( say the Naturalists) is not easily corrected afterwards: and any error that is not afterwards corrected, had need to be avoided with all the care, and circumspection that is possible: and such are the errors of war more often then of any other business: seldom that a man hath opportunity to commit a second oversight, because he finds the first pernicious: and upon all services of war so much depends, that a man can hardly account any of them slight or trivial. This we now treat of, hath been always reckoned amongst the weightiest, and doth exact that a diligence and care be used in it suiteable to the concernment. In such cares, and watches we spin out our short lives, and can scarce promise ourselves any certainty of recompense, hardly so much as of acceptation, more then the conscience of the duty done. That motive, if we propound it to ourselves, will never fail us, others may. Resolve therefore upon that, and thou shalt need no other spur to goodness.   

MEDITATION 27.  
Of Sallies.  
DUring a siege, to sally out sometimes, either to annoy the enemy, upon an advantage espied of their security and remissness: or to bring in provisions to relieve the Garrison, is a service, as of much courage, and danger, so of much benefit too; for if those Sallies prosper, the enemy is both weakened by the loss, and as much in his hopes by finding the Garrison able to hold up the contest, and to spin out the time by the advantage of his new supplies. If there be nothing else, even time itself will weary out the assailant, whose design when it goes not forward, goes backward, and comes to nothing, if he can do nothing. The defendants task is but to keep his own; the assailant loses if he do not gain; he loses time, and cost, and labour, and reputation, and remaines branded for that undertaking, wherein he did not rightly measure his own strength. Every loss that he receives, though it be never so little, and every supply that the besieged gets, though it be never so small, is a step backward in his journey. In the mean time, the heart, and courage that his party loses, the other party gains, and are emboldened to stand out, and to endure by the success. Every attempt that they succeed in, they take both for an omen, and a pledge to them of a good conclusion, and( according to the common fashion of the world) from a little promise themselves much. The two sides being like two buckets in a well; for just as the one sinks the other rises; or the two scales in a balance, of which one is proportionably the heavier, by how much the other is the lighter. In such attempts, it most concerns them that will sally forth, to be sudden, and resolved; and if they find they cannot carry the design, then to retreat in time, and in good order: for he that comes off without loss, hath gained enough for once, but to let the enemy see he fears not to assail him. The second adventure may be more prosperous, and the frequency of attempting, begets a confidence in the soldier almost habitual, and at length brings success beyond expectation. Yet no action, wherein prudence had more need to be called to counsel, and deep circumspection used to make good the retreat at least: which shall hardly be effected. if they engage either too soon, or too far; too soon, without advantage, and too far, without moderation. They are two main points of wisdom to know both the just neck of time when to go on, and likewise when he hath gone far enough▪ Many a man hath marred all by not knowing when all was well. and by overdoeing, hath undone himself. What could not be done at the first sally, may be done at a second, or at a third; nor should he that leads the party consider how much he doth at once, but how well. He shall break the enemy at times, as surely, and more safely; and it is folly to catch at that harvest, which he may reap by leisure. Patiently to a wait the ripening of our hopes, is the great rule of human undertakings: and he that so conquers the enemy hath a double honor of it. because he hath first conquered himself, and made his desires stoop unto his reason, and his affections to his judgement. Better to go out, and do nothing of consequence ten times, then to miscarry once. Yet if discretion steer the course, and the cause be just, God usually gives the blessing, and a man may with reason hope both to do good service in a sally, and to come off unhurt.   

MEDITATION 28.  
Of Muskets, Pikes, Halberts, Pistols, Hand-granadoes, and such kind of weapons used in a storm by the Defendants.  
WHAT Weapons soever may be of use to keep off the assailant, either at distance, or in his nearer approaches, are carefully provided, laid all in readiness, and with all diligence used upon occasion. For all actions, all instruments are not fit; to know their several uses, and to be expert, and ready in them is a souldiers office. Judgement advantageth in this kind, as much as strength, or valour, and he is but ill provided that fights without it. But judgement is not perfected in these things without experience. The face of things in action alters on a sudden, and requires sudden changes both of mens purposes, and of their endeavours. A master must know how to shift his sails with the wind, and a soldier his arms with the occasion. It is impossible that any man should foresee the various accidents of service, or give such perfect rules as shall not need to be altered. Much must of necessity be permitted to the discretion of them that are engaged, of which they cannot make a judgement, but by time, and place, and the full view of circumstances as they rise. Yet the main part of action must be reserved to the Commander in chief as his prerogative, upon which the common soldier must look as upon a thing sacred, and divine, not to be profaned by his rash attempt, or indiscreet intrusion. If that gap should be opened the whole discipline of war were lost; and obedience would be thrust out by presumption, with the indelible shane, and loss, both of him that so weakly would let go his hold, and of them that did usurp it. It is but in piety, and inferior things, that common men are left to their own choice and guidance; great ones they are not made to manage. Yea even in these lesser things it is best when they act by command, and have time to expect the word that should be their direction. But necessity doth not always allow it, and the heat of action hath so much of tumult and disorder in it( simply inevitable) that the soldier is not obliged to await particular instructions in every point, but left to make the best of the present service, as discretion shall direct him. How busy is this game of war, and how full of hazard! The hand never empty, nor idle, out employing sometimes one kind of weapon, sometimes another; nor the head vacant neither, but busy to consider, and to determine what the hand should do; the mind in the mean time perplexed with the ingratefull vicissitudes of cares, and hopes, and fears, and joys, and sorrows; and the whole body exposed to so many dangers, as were enough to appall a man if he had leisure to consider them. All these things well weighed, who can blame him that doth wish his warfare were accomplished, and that he might put off this earthly tabernacle, and change for that condition, in which the body shall sleep unmolested in the dust, and the soul dwell in everlasting rest? That we may safely wish, though we must wait with patience until the appointed time of our change come▪ which by what means soever God shall please to bring upon us, we are great strangers to the miseries of human life, if we be not contented, nay willing to embrace it.   

MEDITATION 29.  
Of Stones, melted-Pitch and lead, unslakt-Lime, scalding-Oyle, &c. used in the same occasion.  
IT is to be presumed that in such exigencies men will make use not only of such instruments as art hath invented and made proper for the time, but of what ever else reason may probably induce them to believe, that it may advantage them, though but snatched up of a sudden, and not thought of, till by accident the eye meeting with it, upon the first sight, reason suggests the fitness of it for their purpose. And in these cases they likewise take in such helps, and admit such assistance, as could not be useful to them in bearing arms: for to cast stones, or power down from a higher place upon them that are beneath melted pitch, and led, and scalding oil, or the like, for such purposes I say women, and boyes are as fit as men, and should not be spared at such a time from any labour to which their strength can reach. For though it be a rule very necessary by the Governor of a garrison to be observed, to keep himself free from encumbrances, and not clog, or pester his garrison with women, and children, who in such a place do( for the most part) but help to destroy provisions, and to spend the store, and to dishearten and discourage the soldier in the time of danger by their fears, and passions, which they are not able to master, or overcome; yet it cannot be avoided but they must be allowed for necessary uses, for suttlers, for laundresses, to tend the sick, and the like. These also in the pinch of service should be forced to put to their helping hands, and undergo any employment to which their strength and capacity can reach. No help that may be useful, can be unacceptable to a discreet man, nor is it disparagement to take in such coadjutours. Perhaps that sex would assist, if they could, in greater services, let them not be rejected in what they can. It is a good correcttive to mans pride( into which he falls too often, and too easily) that he is many times necessitated to admit such helps, as of women, and children, which otherwise perhaps he would despise. But God would have us taught by several ways; how little we can do of ourselves though we boast much, and how often we are brought into those streights, that we are constrained to ask their assistance whom we are most apt to scorn, and owe a great part of our safety and deliverance to those means, which we would least have chosen. But a pious, and a prudent man lays it down for his rule, let safety be the end, and let what will be the means: let success crown the action, and he will never blushy to be interrogated who were the instruments. It is God's mercy to me that he sends me any help in my distress: it becomes me not to dispute it with him, why it was no better. It were a strange kind of petulancy in a patient dangerously sick, if he would take no physic▪ or admit no cure but what himself might choose; and would rather cast away his own life, then not please his fancy. By weak and contemptible means very great things have many times been brought to pass, and it is a high point of wisdom to neglect, or to despise nothing, especially where reason tells us it may be of importance to help out at a dead lift. Lord we aclowledge with thankful, and with humble hearts, that all help is from thee: Let us not want it when we are distressed, nor want judgement to discern which way it may be most useful, and then whether it come by one hand, or by many, by weak hands or by strong ones, we shall equally be contented, and ascribe thee the glory of our deliverance.   

MEDITATION 30.  
Of Case-shot.  
CASE-SHOT is the proportion of a dozen or twenty musket bullets( more or less) put into a tin case covered at the top with a wooden stopple, and fastened with a slight wire unto the case, which being discharged out of a Canon disperses and scatrers so, that it Commonly kills many at once, and endangers many more. It is therefore usually aimed either at a body of the enemy coming on, so soon as they are within reach, or in a storm at those that climb up the works, to take many of them off together. Against this kind of shot that scatters so, there is the least defence, all parts of the body from head to foot being equally exposed to it: and if the markes-man be master of his art, he seldom failes to do much mischief: so much as makes it a sad spectacle to see, but much sadder to be endured. It is a prodigy to think how little they regard it, or how vnpre pared they are commonly for death, which know it doth await them in so many kinds. If a man consider advisedly the customary manner of a souldiers life, how boldly he lets loose the rains to all licentiousness, how profanely he spends his time, how his common talk is full of fearful oaths, and imprecations, how his thoughts are wholly taken up either with vanity, or sin, and rarely any thing of God, or goodness in them, how habitual drunkenness is with him, and how often he is surprised by death even in his brutish excess, what outrages he commits, and what cruelty he exercises for a small advantage, how utter a stranger he is to repentance, and how little mindful of the great account that he must make to God he cannot tell how soon, he would think such men had made a covenant with death and hell, that they dare do such things. If a man died like a beast, and were sure that all his misery should determine in the grave, yet one would think mortality itself were kerb enough to restrain him from such madnesie. But having been instructed as a Christian how much more misery attends them in another life whose actions are so disordered, it is almost past belief, that men should be so stupid in the midst of danger, and so regardless of their change. Virtues are all of kin, and nearly related to one another. True fortitude is not divided from temperance, nor temperance from prudence, nor prudence from justice; and he hath none of them in perfection, that hath not all of them in some reasonable measure. A man may see them all sometimes ( though but rarely) in a soldier in such an eniment degree, that they make him accomplished in all points, and shine with such a lustre, that they bewitch men with the love of him in whom they are, and force a veneration. And that veneration is paid universally, not only to their persons whilst they live, but to their memory likewise when they are dead: whereas the other( names of no price) live without love, and die without being desired; they are counted brutish both in life, and death, and fall, as they stood, without regard. When they have paid their due to nature, a ditch, or a pit, or the open field in which they are left neglected, and forgetfulness with the living, are their hire; unless infamy revive their faults, not permitting them to sleep quiet in the dust. It is but an error to imagine, that he must needs fear death that thinks of it often, or that the meditation of mortality( so often presented to the eye in time of war) should blunt the edge of Valour. His discourse of reason is weak, and his spirit weaker, that cannot fortify himself against it, especially, if he have the great help of a well lead life to build upon, and the conscience of his pious care to decline those vices, which make death terrible to a wicked man. He is most truly valiant, that best knows why; and he most able to despise death, that hath given the strongest proofs he best knew how to live. Neither the thought of death before, nor the sense of death when it comes is able to daunt him, though the shape of it be never so hideous, nor the time never so sudden. Lord give us thy grace so to live; and then come death when, or how it will, it can not be unwelcome.   

MEDITATION 31.  
Of cutting down Trees and hedges, and laying of places open.  
IT is a great advantage for an enemy that comes to sit down before a Garrison, to find the ground near about it well woodded: for thereby he may with more safety view the place, entrench his men, raise his works, and play upon the besieged as under coverture, where the woods are his defence. It is therfore one of the first things that they do, where they intend to make a Garrison, to cut down all trees, and hedges, and lay all open and level, that an enemy may not move any way undescryed, or attempt any thing undiscovered. From a Garrison the fairer the prospect is, the better, not more for delight, then for use, nor for pleasure, then for conveniency. If the enemy can act behind a traverse, and keep the besieged ignorant where he is, or what he doth, he needs wish no more: for that will quickly sort unto his great advantage. Trees therefore planted near the place, whether to defend it from the annoyance of sharp, and peirceing winds, or to relieve it by the cool shade, when the dog-starre beats upon it with excessive heat, or to have timber in a convenient nearness upon all occasions of repair, must down to the ground, and the thought of all lesser accommodations must be speedily, and resolutely cast off, when they come to stand in competition with our safety. They are thoughts becoming women and not men, or effeminate gallants, not souldiers, how things may be husbanded to best advantage, without wasting, or defaceing of a seat, which not without much time, and pains, and cost was brought to that perfection, by the continued care of the family in many generations. Such speculations suite well with times of peace, but not of war; and are commendable in him that hath the managing of a private fortune, not in him that hath the managing of public trust, with which that private thrift is inconsistent, It is one thing to defend it for his Prince, another to preserve it for the owner; one thing when the proof of his love, another, when of his loyalty is concerned in it. I would willingly destroy nothing that might be saved, especially which a commendable industry, and discreet providence hath stored up for succession, and intended for a benefit to posterity: but when they ly as rubs in the way to concernments of a higher nature, I must cast them off without regard, whether they be my own or other mens: nor may I in reason expect, that other men should be in this case any more tender of mine, then I am of theirs, To wish it, were an error, either in me, or them, and to yield it, were a greater. And I go in the mean time upon a safe principle, whilst I do nothing unto them, which I would not be content should be done to me likewise in the same case.   

MEDITATION 32.  
Of firing of towns.  
WHEN A town lies near a Garrison, the houses thin, and scattered, so that they cannot conveniently be enclosed within the works, or are not worth enclosing, and their neighbour hood may make them advantageous to the enemy for annoying the garrison, it is usual either to pull them down to the ground, or( if the enemies sudden approach allow not time for it then) to fire them suddenly, and burn them down. In which case besides the detriment of the inhabitants who are suddenly turned out of house, and home, and forced with their whole families to seek new habitations where they can get them, and by their hasty remove must needs suffer much loss in the things they have about them, besides the interest which perhaps they had in those tenements either by lease, or of inheritance; there is also a public calamity which doth attend it, and that is depopulation: a mischief of so much consequence in a kingdom, that the wisdom of state hath enacted many laws to prevent it, as that which if not well look't to, in time must needs bring desolation with it. All that can be said for it in this case is, that it is a lesser evil, that some few towns in this way should perish, then that the enemy should be suffered to overcome all,& bring an universal calamity upon the kingdom. When these sad effects of war are inevitable, how much have they to answer before God, that have been the wicked authors, and beginners of such disasters? The guilt of all lies upon their accounts, when all the other party doth in their own just defence is enforced, and it lies not in their power to avoid it. The hurt they do to the very enemy they do unwillingly, and would not do it, if they could excuse it: but with a far greater reluctation in themselves they do these kind of hurts to all sorts of People, whom fortune hath rather cast into their way by mischance, then any personal action or desert, for which they should be afflicted. A generous mind in such exigences even then smarts when it hurts, and suffers with them, that suffer under him. Their loss is not without his grief, nor their affliction without his compassion. If he can find a way to ease their burden, he doth it cheerfully; or if they can find it for themselves, he easily assents unto it. Spare them he cannot though he would; outrage and oppress them cruelly he will not, though he can. All they suffer he thinks too much though it be ne're so little: and so he carries himself in it, that he leaves them fully satisfied, how little he would have wished it, and that nothing but necessity could have enforced him to make it so much. In other things they find him a firm friend, and from thence believe, that in this he was but an unwilling enemy. Such should be the carriage and temper of men whom the necessity of their service puts upon these extremities, which( though justifiable in themselves) yet leave a bitter relish in them that feel the smart, and an odious remembrance with them that have undergone the loss( which perhaps they lodge, and watch their time to repay) if they be not sweetened a little for the patient, by the discreet managing of the Commander.   

MEDITATION. 33.  
Of pulling down Churches or chapels.  
SOMETIMES it falls out so unluckily in a siege, that a Church, or chapel, near neighbouring to the Garrison, can neither be taken in within the works, nor left standing with any safety, because it will command the Garrison by advantage of the situation, and is of itself( from the very nature of the fabric) both a great defence to them that enter it, and easily made defensible, by them that will make no scruple to profane it to such uses. In this case they hold it necessary to pull it down to the ground: but whether it be lawful or no, may be disputed: and I should readily determine the negative if the sparing of it by the one side, could save and secure it from being profaned on the other. Of the two, better the religious use of it should cease, then it should be made an instrument of villainy, and left for their advantage, whose impious vndertakings in the foulness of their cause, proclaims them to all the world to be men that make no conscience. or scruple of any thing that may advance their ends. I cannot without horror name the offices to which such places haue oft times been employed when they have come into their hands, nor in what case they have left them, when their turns have been served. Not to speak of their impudence in that height of villainy, who glory in defacing of those sacred places, and raceing the monuments of piety and devotion which our fore fathers left as proofs of their zeal, and arguments of their desire to dignify God's outward worship. They that are not ashamed to have it known they do this every where, where they come, it is not hard to guess, how much further they can easily persuade themselves to go, till they come to the most damnable height of profanation that can be imagined. I should wish their villainy always prevented, by some other way then pulling down Churches, if it were possible, yet by that way too, rather then not at all. To make the house of Prayer a den of thieves, was very high: but to make it a den of murtherers, a cage of unclean birds, a sty of swine, a customary draught-house, and at last a slaughter-house, where they will make no scruple( having attained their ends) to sacrifice innocent blood upon that Altar, on which the blood of Christ hath been presented in the Sacrament, and strewe that pavement with slaughtered carcases and mangled limbs, which their feet should not touch without heed, nor their knees without fear and reverence, is that which all men are obliged to their power to forbid, and hinder, and in this case of further danger too, even by demolishing the place, if there be no other help. But to do this hastily, and rashly, with no other motive then of providing for their own safety, which perhaps might have been done as well another way, if mature advice had been taken in it, is an act so impious, as I hope every generous mind would tremble to be guilty of. When it is concluded with advisement that it cannot be helped, it should not then be done without fear and trembling, without a particular address to God, not to impute to them the strict necessity that doth enforce it, nor without a tacit vow, or promise plighted unto him,( if ever he make them able) either in the same place again, or elsewhere at least to do some magnificent work of piety, which may add as much to the visible dignity, and honor of his service, as this took away: And in the mean time to provide strictly, that though the place dedicated to so religious a use be lost, yet that the religious duties of the place be not slackened, but kept up at the full height in some other place of the Garrison which may be most convenient, lest they seem to have sought an occasion to cast God off. With these limitations a man may have peace within himself, which perhaps he shall want, if he build his action only upon consideration of his own safety, and theirs that are about him; wherein selfelove makes men apt to be both partial, and precipitate. To conclude, better one Church pulled down, then they suffered to carry all before them without stop, whose impiety we do not know whether it will not come unto that height, to pull all Churches down; and we see they promise faire for it already.   

MEDITATION 34.  
Of huts under the Works Granado-proofe, and Cells under▪ ground.  
WHEN musket, and cannon shot, granades, and fire-balls, and stones are plied thick, so that common places of shelter are debarred, there must be a provision for those that arr sick, or wounded, for those that after long, and tough labour must take their turn for rest, till they bee sufficiently refreshed, and fitted for further service: and for such uses Cells, and huts under the works are fittest, because safest. Without these provisions to relieve them, men would be discouraged, and would not venture themselves into that danger which the service doth require. And truly that Commander but ill deserves a mans service when he is well, that takes no thought what shall become of him when he is sick, or hurt. But to do them right, no Garrison is without conveniency both of places, and persons for such occasions: they have their physitians, and chirurgeons at hand, and such drugs and medicines in readiness as they could find opportunity to provide: their fee they have from the Garrison, not from the Common soldier, whose cure it is but reason, that it should come as freely, as did his hurt, since his pay, or stipend( although he receive it punctuallie, which all do not) will scarce find him food, and raiment. A man is not to be cast off like a beast so soon as he is thought useless: nay a good man will scarce cast off a beast of that fashion, that hath done him good service: I would some did not value their beasts above a man: but their disposition when it is known( as long it cannot be unknown) proves little to their advantage. A wise man will be studious of their love, without whose assistance he can do nothing, and will slip no opportunity to give them assurance how much they are in his care. Upon trial of it, those that have been brought down even unto the jaws of death, after recovery, are as willing to venture their lives for him the second time, as they were the first; and by their example others are also whetted on, to dare things beyond belief. He never wants mens hands, that hath their hearts; and he shall never want their hearts, that declares himself tenderly affectionate to them, and careful to provide for their security both in sickness and in health, both in action and after it. And truly the obligation is strong, then to take care for them most, when they have most need, and are so far spent either by intensive labour, or by their hurts, that they are not in case to take care for themselves. such offices have an ample reward, both from God himself, the great rewarder of all good actions, and from the conscience of the fact, and from the honor and esteem of it with all good men, and from the acceptation of those that are concerned in it, and from their thankful acknowledgement, and return in afterservices.   

MEDITATION. 35.  
Of Surrender.  
WHEN a Garrison is surrendered up unto the enemy, it always understands itself of course, that the Garrison itself be left entire to all intents, and purposes, with all the arms, and ammunition, all the provisions and store: and this is the least. Surely to relinquish so much unto an enemy cannot but trouble him that hath any thing of a soldier in him and the motives had need be strong, and good, and the necessity sharp and picant that enforce him to it. If his provisions be quiter wasted, and consumed, and his men ready to faint, and die after long hardness, and much enduring for want of food; if his store of powder and shot be spent, and he have no means left him any longer to annoy the enemy, or keep him off; if by search he discover any part of the Garrison to be indefensible, whether by neglect of strengthening it from the beginning, or by some action of the enemy during the siege, by which he finds the Garrison is not tenable, and is able to give satisfaction therein, if he be called to an account, in these cases the surrender is not to be accounted voluntary, but enforced; and such a one as hath more of infelicity in it, then of fault, and of misfortune, then of shane. Yet the considerations of the event make it a sad disaster: they are not many that shall come to know the truth of their condition, and with them that know it not, they shall suffer in point of reputation for the surrender: they are not always sure to find equal hearing, or to be beleiv'd when they report the truth, neither from them that must be their Judges, nor from others that will be their censurers, who sometimes out of hatred, sometimes out of envy report things worse then they are. Surely the hazard of misconstruction in these things is unavoydible, and he shall very hardly save his famed in these things, that saves his conscience. Yet Garrisons have been held with spirit and resolution so long, till all the world hath been amply satisfied of the surrender, and willingly aclowledge as much done, and suffered for the holding of it, as human possibility could reach. Others again have surrendered in such hast, that they can never wipe out of mens mindes the suspicion that is universally upon them, that fear, not need made them give up so quickly, and that they wanted rather courage, then means, to have held out longer before they yielded. The truth is a surrender is a nice point, and the greatness of the loss filling mens mindes with indignation, makes it more liable to suspicion, and however men may flatter themselves, they will find it no easy matter to give satisfaction in it. Men are not apt to favour one another in their censures, especially where they can find any colour to traduce, and that they never fail of in this case. He knows very little of the world that is not warned, not to venture his honor upon so nice a point, if there be any possibility to avoid it. There is little difference to the world betwixt having deserved to be ill spoken of, and being thought to have so: for though his heart tell him he is blameless, yet he fares as if he were not. It is I confess a most uncharitable fault, to be overforward in suspicion, or rash in censure, or prejudicate in a cause, or hard to admit purgations, or willing to foment jealousies, or to depress any mans famed out of an envy towards him: but it is an epidemical disease, and such a one as will never be cured. It is wisdom therefore for a man not to cast himself upon these hazards, wherein to miscarry is very common, to escape very rare: and he must account it the last, and worst of refuges, to redeem his danger, by the surrender of the place.   

MEDITATION 36.  
Of conditions honourable and dishonourable.  
THE Nice point of honour is not thought of by many, is understood by few, and those that understand it rightly, are yet so prepedited, and blinded by passion and self interest, that they seldom determine of it according to the dictates of reason, or the rules of a sound& clear judgement. This one rule is generally held and observed by all men in case of a surrender, to make the conditions for themselves as favourable, and advantageous as they may: yet many times it falls out that when they have provided very well for their safety, they have provided but meanly for their famed; and when they are free from their enemies, they fall into the ill opinion of their friends, who judge impartially of the carriage of the business, and give a sentence of it( upon the full view of circumstances) far different from theirs, that were concerned in it. It is not the departing with colours flying, or with part of their arms, with their numbers full, or any of those visible ensigns of bravery that catch the sense, and win their applause that look no further then to the superficies of things, that can acquit men in this case. He that goes much less, oft times carries away more honour, which is rooted in the bravery of the mindes, and the material parts of action, wherein whosoever hath been defective, must never hope to cure his blasted famed by these slight fomentations. To do much and to suffer much, much more then most would, much more then in reason could have been expected, much more then envy can blast, or malice eclipse, or time obliterate, this is the aim and resolution of an heroic mind, which is inseparably attended by never dying honour. The other things before name help but to make up the pomp and ceremony of it, th●se have the substance: and without these, the other are but painted gewgaws, to catch fools and children with. Upon the point, honour is either sped or lost before it comes to the making of conditions, though even in that too, a noble mind can never stoop to baseness, or admit any terms unworthy, nor can the judgement be befooled; for to the very last all things are so carried, that every eye may discern, they come off with bravery, and with discretion too. The esteem men win in these things is so much, that they are gainers in their greatest losses, and whilst they loose one hold, they win many hearts: whereas on the contrary, they that have done little, and suffered less, can never make such a capitulation, as shall not redound to their eternal shane. Conscience is therefore the best conservation of honor, and every man the most competent judge of his own carriage: if his own heart testify unto him, that he hath faithfully done all things that could be expected at his hands in discharge of the trust to him conmitted, his honor is unblemished: if he have halted, or faultered in the least degree for any sinister respect, he must first condemn himself, and then he cannot wonder( notwithstanding all his diligence to skin it over) though other men condemn him too. Only it may, I think, be taken for granted, that he which presently yields up a Garrison upon summons, without striking a stroke, or making any resistance, can make no conditions that shall be honourable for him.   

MEDITATION 37.  
Of surprisal by storming.  
WHEN A fort or Garrison cannot be gotten neither by treaty, nor by straightening, the last attempt is commonly by storming. And truly reason says, that it should be the last, both in respect of the assailant, and of the defendant: if the assailant can carry it any other way he hath it cheaper: if the defendant be resolved to make opposition to the last, he sells it dearer. The dearer it costs the assailant, the more he is enraged; and the more he is enraged, the more mischief he doth after he enters; and it is more pardonable the mischief that he doth in the height of rage, and in the heat of blood, to which he should not be drawn if it may be avoided: and whether it may be avoided or not he cannot tell, until he have first tried all other means, when he hath tried them, and found them despiteful, 'tis a faire way of open hostility to go on to storming, though he foresee clearly that many brave men must fall in it on either side. Great and good things are purchased many times at so dear a rate that they undo the buyer; yet when they be in the way to greater, and that these without them cannot be obtained, a man must be content to buy them as they may be had. Yet these kind of purchases are commonly the unluckiest, where both the buyer and the seller repent the bargain, and both go off losers at the parting. It may well be called a storm wherein so many men are so wretchedly cast away, and( like earthen vessells dashed against one another) are broken all to pieces. This is the bloody scene in which horror rides in triumph, and cruelty is made drunk with blood, and slaughter glutted with excess. To depaint such actions( if a man could, unto the life, were to afflict the reader. When quarter is not expected, or will not be given, what remaines but for one part to be even quiter extinguished? Here men take their turns in misery: in the assault he that comes on hath the worst,& loses extremely much by disadvantage: but when the place is entered, the scale turns totherway, and the besieged are then so overmaster'd by fresh and continued assailants that break in upon them on every side, like an overflowing stream, that they fall like sheep unto the slaughter, and pay the heavy price of all the damage that they did before. This is the sad minute in which execution plies her task, and death hastens to dispatch away all that she meets, so that often times a few minutes sees a whole Garrison alive, and dead. It is a Commanders part to tempet, and mitigate that rage in the common soldier, and when he finds that he hath fully mastered the place, to spare as many lives, as the consideration of his own safety will give him leave. And however it may go in a small, yet in a great Garrison, if this should not be done, whole towns, and cities should be turned into fields of blood, and the infamy of it be a perpetual brand, both to the actors themselves, and to them that suffered it as careless spectators when they might have forbidden it. And it is not a simplo guilt in them of not hindering evil, but a guilt that receives aggravation, from the tie of duty which lies upon them, to moderate the outrage of the soldier in such occasions. And it is a duty which a man may have both comfort and honor too in the discharge of it: it being the noblest part of enmity to spare the vanquished; and to give life( if it may be without danger) where it was neither deserved, nor expected. This mercy they that will not show, let them never look to find mercy in the time of need, either at the hands of men, or of their maker.   

MEDITATION 38.  
Of robbing, and spoiling.  
THE Garrison once mastered, the first thing the souldiers set themselves to, is to rob and spoil those that were in it, of all they had worth the taking. What they had been a long time in gathering, with much pains, and perhaps no little danger, they see taken away from them, and can make no resistance, nay they durst make none if they could, nay they dare not so much as murmur, or repined, scarce so much as bemoan themselves, or their hard fortune, nor give by their looks or behaviour any occasion of distaste to the insulting foe. Thus a man that hath been a long time a weaving himself a fortune, is cast back again in an instant to his first poverty, and utterly ruined in his estate without remedy, and without redress. A sufficient warning to us, not to set our hearts, and our affections upon the things of this world, whose purchase is so troublesone, and so dangerous, and whose tenor so uncertain. Shall I venture my soul to get that by unlawful means, or venture my life to get that by infinite hazards, which I cannot keep when I have it? shall I fix my joy and contentment upon a transitory toy, which every minute may be taken from me? shall I court that with a fond affection, which both with levity, and scorn takes wings and flies away? If use did not give wealth an esteem, what a trifle were it? or who would regard it? yet they that love it most, use it least, and instead of serving themselves with it, become servants nay slaves unto it. The best servant in the world, were so much less to be esteemed, if he had a light and fickle humour to change his masters▪ and wealth doth so, nor is there any way to help it; either it serves us upon that condition, or not at all; many masters it hath had, and many more it will; and though it abide with some men longer then with others, yet no man ever did, nor no man ever shall, or can know, how long it will tarry with him: we are all apt to believe, till death, nay even after death, with our posterity; but most men find themselves deceived in that reckoning, and too late learn to repent the vain trust which they reposed in that wealth, which is not permanent. Lord enable me there to settle my he art and my affections where true riches are, even with thee in heaven! and for these transitory things below( which are mine to day, and to morrow another mans) let me never strain my conscience to get them, let me not dote on them while I have them, let me not be much dejected for them if I loose them! but let me comfort myself in this, that the way to heaven is as sure by poverty, as by prosperity, and that thou my God dost not regard what I have, but what I am: if rich in grace, and goodness it is enough; for that will lead me to another kind of riches, the riches of thy glory, and the riches of thy mercy, which shall never fade away, but be powred out upon us for ever in thy heaven lye kingdom.   

MEDITATION 39.  
Of tortureing, for the discovery of hidden treasure.  
SOMETIMES the covetousness,& cruelty of the enemy is such, that where he suspects treasure is hidden, he will torture, and torment any body that he thinks can discover it, until he find it. Which merciless resolution when he hath once put on, the reverence of old age doth not stop him, the esteem of the weaker sex doth not move him, the tenderness of sweet children doth not affect him: nay he studies to make affliction heavier by circumstance, tormenting the husband in the presence of the wife, and the children in the sight of the parents, conceiving that there can be no treasure so dear unto them, which they would not part with, to redeem them from torment, whom they so tenderly affect. The height of this misery is, that it is all one to the enemy, whether a a man have hidden treasure, or whether he do but suspect him to have it; whether he discover all, or whether he do but discover part. For if he think a man hath treasure hidden( though he have none) he shall be tormented as much, nay perhaps more then if he had, and all his oaths and protestations to clear himself, shall not satisfy. If he discover all, yet he shall be suspected to keep back part, and to make him discover more, he shall be as much tormented, as if he had discovered nothing. Miserable condition, that when a man really hath nothing, or when he hath discovered all he hath without dissimulation, that this should not save him; when there is no man in the world so devilishlie cruel, that would not spare a man if he did believe, either that he had nothing, or that he had discovered all( for to think that any man doth delight in unprofitable and fruitless cruelty, is an extreme uncharitable opinion, and without any ground.) The infelicity is in this, that we cannot credit one another. Men are so apt to ly, and to forswear themselves where it makes for their profit, nay some are so besotted with the love of their wealth that they will rather endure any torment then part with it, or discover it( I name that latter as the greater trial, though that former be the greater sin, for men are generally more indulgent to the sense then careful of the soul, and will rather forswear themselves often, then be tormented once▪) so that it is no wonder if they find no faith: besides that, the greediness of mans covetous nature make him hard to receive satisfaction, or to believe, that he is dealt clearly with, where it is his advantage, that is questioned, to dissemble. How many cases happen in the course of a mans life which make him think it a happiness to be reputed poor, or known to have nothing! He that is lamed and crippled by being thus tormented, how much more wretched is he, then he that had nothing? for he hath the use of his limbs to relieve his poverty; the other hath lost all he had, and perhaps the total use of his limbs too wherewith he should get more. We leave him to those spiritual comforts that he must hope for from above in such extremities, and turn our discourse a little to the tormentor; whom we must admonish( whether he will heed it, or not) that the very act of taking what he finds ready, though from an enemy, will hardly be proved lawful( unless you take the laws of war and arms to help it out) save where the just part of the quarrel makes it so to one party; we must instruct him further, that extremities in such cases are not to be used, nor all lawful for a man, that is within his power; where thou thinkest thou mayest take, do it with pitty, and compassion, and leave him whom thou dost pillage somewhat, that he may bless thee when thou art gone, and say, sure it was God sent thee to him, and he had not found so much mercy with another man: we must also tell him clearly, that to torment men, and force them by extremity of pain to confess what they have hid, is utterly unlawful; alas they have gone too far already, that have lied, or forsworn themselves to conceal that little which is left; wilt thou may me their bodies that have maym'd their souls? it is just with God, that they should suffer this, but not just with thee to do it: lastly we must let him know, that to torment men for more, when they have confessed all already, to torment them long who give all the sacred pledges of christianity that they have nothing to discover, is a cruelty so horrid as hath no president in hell, because under it men suffer merely innocent, and are press't by torment unto that, which to them is simply impossible: cursed be their avarice, for it is fierce, and their action for it is cruel! and let every noble mind say with Jacob, Into their secrets let not my soul come, nor unto their assemblies let not mine honour be united.   

MEDITATION 40.  
Of stripping.  
AMONGST other harsh usages of the soldier after the taking of a garrison, that commonly is one, to take away from the vanquished the very apparel from their backs, and sometimes so far to proceed therein as to strip them stark naked, and scarce give them their own lousy, and ragged apparel in exchange, to hid their nakedness. To those that have been well-bred, and are utterly unacquainted before with such usage, it must needs come very unwelcome. Yet in this, more then in any other part of his harshness; the common soldier is to be excused, whose wants do generally enforce it. For the clothing of the soldier though it be of much and deep concernment to keep him in health, and heart, yet is not for the most part so much regarded by the general, as it should: and the soldier seldom takes any care to cloath himself; nor indeed can he well, out of his pay if he did punctually receive it( but that is likewise many times in long arrears:) the wonder therefore is the less, and the pardon should be the easier, if he forget civility, where he finds an opportunity to supply his wants. Who would not rather that another man should want clothes, then himself? or can frame his mind to let his enemy enjoy what himself hath not, nor cannot well be without? Besides that if one soldier out of civility, or respect would spare that which were necessary, another would take that which were superfluous, and his pity would turn nothing to the advantage of the vanquished. Yet all this, though it be reason, makes not the affliction ever a whit the easier to him that suffers it. To go bare-foot, and little less then naked, is a hard lesson to them that never practised it. When such a cross doth happen, it should reduce to our remembrance our former vanities, the follies of our youths, and the ill-fruits of peace, and long prosperity, when forgetting in apparel the safe rules, of what was necessary, or what was convenient in the rank wherein God had placed us, we made our habits the ensigns of our pride, and gloried to out-vie others( though never so expensive) in costly bravery; when invention was almost at a stand, and that which was rich and costly did not please, unless it were new too, and unusual; when our attire was a great part of our study, and to come forth bright, and glorious as the sun, our chiefest aim. If such follies should not have a check, and such pride should not meet a fall, many a one would perish, whom affliction now brings home unto repentance. Lord, thou knowest that we have all enough to answer( even those that have least) for the errors of our youth, sins that plenty and abundance did occasion in us, bring us home, we beseech thee, to repentance, whether with, or against our wills, and then by whatsoever means it is, and how harsh soever or unpleasant to the sense, it is no matter: it is an easy purchase, by a little corporal affliction, to again our peace with thee.   

MEDITATION. 42.  
Of disacommodation in Diet and Lodging.  
IN the time of war, one kind of cross or affliction seldom goes alone, nay sometimes many come huddling together, one in the neck of another, like the waves of the sea driven by a mighty wind. It is some advantage toward the bearing of them, that some of them are to be expected from the enemy of course, and though they come unwelcome, they come not unlooked for. Such a one is this that we are now to speak of, of the disaccommodation in diet, and lodging. Where there are many to be provided for, it cannot easily be avoided, although the conqueror were willing to do reason; it sits most heavy, where it may be helped, and is not, either through the neglect, and barbarous incivility of those to whom the care of it belongs; or( which is worse) out of spite, and malice, and an ignoble, and base delight to triumph over men, and insult upon them in their affliction. A wicked and hellish disposition, and becoming neither Christians, nor men. It were less cruelty to put the vanquished to the sword, and so put a period both to their sufferings and their lives at once, then to wire▪ draw their torments, and spin out their misery by long continuance, when perhaps their death by those means is both desired, and intended. It goes high when a man shall scarce find those conveniences amongst them, that they would afford a dog; and his diet and lodging are purposely so ordered, as not only shall not stand with conveniency, but not with health neither, no nor so much as with life, if they hold on the resolution any time to use them so despightfullie. It is a mighty degree of patience, which must enable a man to bear such a cross, and to which questionless human frayletie cannot reach without divine support. To God only in such extremities men must have recourse, who can either mollify the cruel, and hard hearts of those that so oppress them; or stir up others to give them secret rereleife& ease under-hand without their privity, or sand deliverance( if he please) by some such way, as they could not have hoped for: if none of these, then he can enable them to bear, beyond any thing that they could have believed of their own strength; and will at last recompense their sorrows, and afflictions( which they undergo in a good cause, and with a good conscience) with such a weight of glory, to which they could not think their trials worthy to be compared.   

MEDITATION 43.  
Of strict imprisonment.  
IMPRISONMENT though a common consequent of being overcome, admits a great deal of difference, and is sometimes more easy, sometimes more rigid, and severe. Then it is deemed most harsh, when the prisoner is loaden with irons, or kept close, like some notorious malefactor; or when his exchange is either utterly denied him, or set at such rates, as seem to necessitate a perpetuity of his endurance. These things( I confess) do seldom happen to any man, that hath not given high occasion of offence by revolt, or treachery where he had been entrusted, unless there happen to be somewhat of a private spleen, or a particular grudge. If a man have justly drawn such harshness upon himself, he must not wonder to find from an enemy such usage as he hath deserved, when a friend would hardly put it up, to find himself so abused: And it is not easy to find what to pled for him that hath deceived a trust, and been false to them from whom he hath received pay. If he will say their cause was nought, he should have looked to that before he was engaged: for though he did well in quitting that side, where he thought he could not serve with a safe conscience( if that were really his motive) yet he suffers justly now for the assistanee that he gave them then, and it is just with God, to let him fall into this affliction, that was once perhaps the author of as much affliction unto them, with whom afterwards( upon a rectified judgement) he thought fit to join: besides that he deserves to smart that would engage himself in a quarrel without mature deliberation, and not satisfy his conscience, before he drew his sword; and he must not be his own chooser when, or how he shall pay for such an oversight. If the cause were good, and he was false in it, he is clearly inexcusable, and can have little comfort in his sufferings, though they be never so heavy, or long continued. But if all this befall him, by reason of some old grudge, or some new-taken displeasure,& spite or malice lay it on so heavy, whilst he is conscious to himself of nothing, why his case should be disstinguished from other mens, he may bear up the better, as being secure that such usage in the end shall bring both glory, and renown to him, and shane, and infamy to those, whose unworthiness did prompt them to such hateful cruelty. And truly to ride out such a storm, I should think it no very hard matter to a man of spirit, and resolution. Irons and close imprisonment, and to want the hope of an exchange, are a great affliction, yet such a one as is comportable. Many have endured them for many yeares together, and have found ways to spend that time with comfort, and by little, and little, at last with some kind of contentment. And it is a great point of wisdom to fit the shoulder to the burden, and the neck. unto the yoke that we must need bear. He is an ill proficient in the school of affliction, to whom it doth not grow familiar by tract of time, and whom dire necessity doth not work to some mastery of his fortune, and enable by degrees to triumph in his patience, to triumph over the spite and malice of all his enemies. If I should bait christianity, and yet exact this too, I should not be accounted a rigid stoic in it. morality could go thus far; let us blushy if we be Christians, and come short of it. Resolve therefore to endure without shrinking, as long as thy trouble shall endure; and the hope of end, and of release take in, but as helps upon the by.   

MEDITATION. 43.  
Of maiming.  
THE mutilation and maiming of the body, and the deforming of it by multiplied scars, is reckoned one of the worst kind of accidents in war: and truly if it extend to the loss of those limbs, which in all human and natural actions are most necessary, and by the loss whereof a man is disabled to the greatest, and most important offices of human life( such as are the legs, and arms, and eyes, and the like) the loss is unvaluable. Lesser hurts, which leave but scarrces behind them, and can be raised no higher then to be called a blemish whether in the face itself, or in an other part, received in a good cause, they are to be accounted badges of honor, and memorials of that danger which men did cheerfully undergo, in discharge of their duty to their God, and to their Prince. And however fancy may oversway their opinions that want a solid judgement, yet reason tells us, that the most exact, and harmonious symmetry of an effeminate face, is not half so lovely, as one marked with such scars. For that fading beauty, which in the flower of youth is in the prime, and in a little time alters, and withers of itself, and by a fit of sickness, or a disease is so lost, that it never returns again, and which in men it is a vanity at least, if not a sin to be solicitous, or studious to conserve, is here nobly exchanged, and devested with more honor then it could have been kept. He that perhaps before had more of the we acre, shall now have more of the wiser sex to be enamoured of his mind, then they were with the lineaments of the body: and there is less danger to have ten such lovers, then one of tother. But when a man happens to be so disabled▪ that he hath no hands to work, nor feet to walk, nor an eye to see, whereby he becomes in a high degree useless both to himself, and to his friends, and runs the hazard of wanting necessaries before he dies, because he cannot provide them for himself, such losses wound deep: besides that the securing of life, and present cute of the part so affencted, causes extreme torment, and asks much patience to be endured. To which it is a new access, and a great increase of misery, when a man falls into the hands of a chirurgeon, that either wants skill to manage the cure, or honesty to dispatch it, by which means the patient languishes in torment a great deal longer then he need, and perhaps is brought to a necessity at last of having that limb cut off, that might have been saved. How high doth man value life, when he buys it on such hard conditions! and yet he may not part with it any cheaper although he would, but is obliged in point of conscience to suffer all this, and more, to save life, if it may possibly be preserved. Let it teach me how much higher I should value my soul, and how much more I should be contented patiently to endure( if God call me to the trial) rather then make shipwreck of a good conscience, or do such things as I know must needs be extremely offensive unto him.   

MEDITATION 44.  
Of Death.  
DEATH we consider here under a double notion: as it refers to them that suffer it, and as it refers to them that inflict it. As it refers to them that inflict it, we may impute it unto several causes. Sometimes hot blood occasions it, and long and violent resistance draws it upon them that suffer it, sometimes it proceeds from malice, and is inflicted in the way of revenge, either upon some old grudge, or some new provocation, sometimes there is a petulsnt wantonness in execution, and the conqueror doth heedlessely destroy, where he might safely spare. Sometimes there is an inhuman delight in cruelty, and a barbarous thirst of blood, even more then brutish. Sometimes necessity enforces that more be don in that kind, then the conqueror would either desire, or permit, if he could master the place, and persons without that rigour. This last case onely is excusable, the rest are not: and here likewise the pretence is easily made when other and worse motives put men on to do it: besides that even in this case too, all lies in the conquerors bosom, and he hath a huge latitude wherein to act, and may either take up sooner, or lash out farther, and yet keep under covert of this excuse. If this were a deliberate act, as it is always a sudden, it would ask a severe scrutiny, and the conscience could not easily be satisfied in this case, what bounds to set, or where to stop. As things are, I am confident, that in this case all men have need, and I should advice that all men would beg of God, to overrule them by his providence in the time of action; that they may not be more cruel then the necessity of their own safety doth enforce; and that he would not lay that blood unto their charge which in such occasions they have  shed, when they might have spared it. As death in this case refers to them that suffer it, we consider it as the thing that of all others▪ they have most feared, and shunned; feared not simply as it is death, nor as it is a violent death, nor as it is a sudden death, for against all these we presume them fortified that enter a war, or list themselves for souldiers: but as it is a weakening of the cause, as it is a discouragement of the party, as it is an occasion for the enemies of God to blaspheme. And out of all these respects to fear it, doth neither misbecome a good man, nor a soldier. Besides that the justness of that fear makes it discretion in him, by all possible means to shun, and to avoid it. Yet notwithstanding all the care to avoid it, God pleases to let that fall upon them, which they so much, and so justly feared. How unsearchable are his judgments, and his paths past finding out! My undestanding may be gravelled in these accidents, his justice cannot be tainted: I may be to seek in the cause why he suffers these things to come to pass, but I am sure his wisdom and his goodness orders, and disposes all things for the best. Whether by life or by death, if I may glorify him I am happy: and the riches of his mercy is doubled on me, if when I have glorified him by my life, he please to have me glorify him likewise by my death; if when my actions have been to his honor, my sufferings be so too; if when I have lived a Christian, I must afterwards dy a Martyr. I am sure that to such a life,& such a death there is a crown reserved, which; if I have but patience and constancy to hold out unto the end, I shall not miss of.   
FINIS.