IT will seem strange to those, that better know my unworthiness then your merits, that I should administer Physic to a Physician. But my Apology is just; convincing rather them of ignorance, then my self of presumption. It is not a Potion, I send, but a Prescript in paper; which the foolish Patient did eat up, when he read in it written, Take this. Neither do I send it, to direct you, but that you should rectify it. So the poor Painter sent Apelles a Picture, to mend it, not to commend it. That which tastes of Philosophy in it, is but so much of those axioms and rudiments, as I gathered in the University in a short time, and have had much opportunity to lose since. Somewhat is chym'd out of experience; wherein I may say, Necessit as was ingenii largitor: as Pliny writes of the Raven; who labouring of thirst, and spying a vessel with ⟨image 3⟩some little water in it, but so deep as she could not reach, filled the vessel with stones; till the heavier matter sinking downwards, raised up the lighter to her easy apprehension. My own ill health forced me to look into that poor Cistern of knowledge, which I had: and finding it almost dry, I assayed by some new contemplations, to raise it up to experience; which now, behold, runs over, and (without diminution to it self) is communicatively dispersed to others. Only do you use it, as I desire you should my self: if it be in health, conserve it: if foul purge it. For my own part, I am content, that no happy meditation of mine should be ut Curia Martis Athenis; or like some precious mystery, which a Practitioner will get money by, whiles he lives; but suffer none else to use, when he is dead: for he resolves, it shall die with him. It is more Moral, then Physical; and yet the greater part Theological. wherein I have most satisfied my own conscience, in aiming at that punctual Centre, and blessed Scope, whither all endeavours should look; the straitening our warped Affections, and directing the Soul to heaven. And in this passage, (you must pardon me) I fear not to say your memory at least, if not your understanding, may hereby be helped. My Medicines are not very bitter; but nothing at all sweet to a sensual palate: learning from Saluian; that Quae petulantium auribus placent, aegrotantium animis non prosunt.
IT will seeme strange to those, that better know my vnworthinesse then your merits, that I should administer Physicke to a Physician. But my Apologie is iust; conuincing rather them of ignorance, then my selfe of presumption. It is not a Potion, I send, but a Prescript in paper; which the foolish Patient did eate vp, when he read in it written, Take this. Neither do I send it, to direct you, but that you should rectifie it. So the poore Painter sent Appelles a Picture, to mend it, not to commend it. That which tastes of Philosophie in it, is but so much of those axiomes and rudiments, as I gather'd in the Vniuersitie in a short time, and haue had much opportunity to lose since. Somewhat is chym'd out of experience; wherein I may say, Necessit as was ingenii largitor: as Plinie writes of the Rauen; who labouring of thirst, and spying a vessell with ⟨image 3⟩some little water in it, but so deepe as she could not reach, filled the vessell with stones; till the heauier matter sinking downewards, raysed vp the lighter to her easie apprehension. My owne ill health forced me to looke into that poore Cisterne of knowledge, which I had: and finding it almost drie, I assayed by some new contemplations, to raise it vp to experience; which now, behold, runnes ouer, and (without diminution to it selfe) is communicatiuely dispersed to others. Only doe you vse it, as I desire you should my selfe: if it be in health, conserue it: if foule purge it. For my owne part, I am content, that no happie meditation of mine should be vt Curia Martis Athenis; or like some precious mysterie, which a Practitioner will get money by, whiles hee liues; but suffer none els to vse, when hee is dead: for hee resolues, it shall die with him. It is more Morall, then Physicall; and yet the greater part Theologicall. wherein I haue most satisfied my owne conscience, in ayming at that punctuall Center, and blessed Scope, whither all endeuours should looke; the straitening our warped Affections, and directing the Soule to heauen. And in this passage, (you must pardon mee) I feare not to say your memory at least, if not your vnderstanding, may hereby be helped. My Medicines are not very bitter; but nothing at all sweete to a sensuall palate: learning from Saluian; that Quae petulantium auribus placent, aegrotantium animis non prosunt.
