ly that we cannot like it long, and most commonly not
at all: but God, who can do what he pleases, is wise to choose safely
for us, affectionate to comply with our needs, and powerful to execute
all his wise decrees. Here, therefore, is the wisdom of the contented
man, to let God choose for him; for when we have given up our wills to
him, and stand in that station of the battle where our great General
hath placed us, our spirits must needs rest while our conditions have
for their security the power, the wisdom, and the charity of God.

Contentedness in all accidents brings great peace of spirit, and is the
great and only instrument of temporal felicity. It removes the sting
from the accident, and makes a man not to depend upon chance and the
uncertain dispositions of men for his well-being, but only on God and
his own spirit. We ourselves make our fortunes good or bad; and when God
lets loose a tyrant upon us, or a sickness, or scorn, or a lessened
fortune, if we fear to die, or know not to be patient, or are proud or
covetous, then the calamity sits heavy on us. But if we know how to
manage a noble principle, and fear not death so much as a dishonest
action, and think impatience a worse evil than a fever, and pride to be
the biggest disgrace, and poverty to be infinitely desirable before the
torments of covetousness; then we who now think vice to be so easy, and
make it so familiar, and think the cure so impossible, shall quickly be
of another mind, and reckon these accidents amongst things eligible.

But no man can be happy that hath great hopes and great fears of things
without, and events depending upon other men, or upon the chances of
fortune. The rewards of virtue are certain, and our provisions for our
natural support are certain; or if we want meat till we die, then we die
of that disease--and there are many worse than to die with an atrophy or
consumption, or unapt and coarser nourishment. But he that suffers a
transporting passion concerning things within the power of others, is
free from sorrow and amazement no longer than his enemy shall give him
leave; and it is ten to one but he shall be smitten then and there where
it shall most trouble him; for so the adder teaches us where to strike,
by her curious and fearful defending of her head. The old Stoics, when
you told them of a sad story, would still answer, "_What is that to
me?_" Yes, for the tyrant hath sentenced you also to prison. Well, what
is that? He