Complete. From “Resolves, Divine, Moral, and Political.”

SUSPICIONS are sometimes founded in judgment. He who knows the world bad cannot but suspect it will be so still; but suspicion, for the most part, proceeds from a self-defect,—and then gnaws the mind. He knows he deserves not to be considered ill, why should he imagine that others should speak him so? We may observe how a man is disposed by gathering what he doubts in others. St. Chrysostom has given the rule: Sicut difficile aliquem suspicatur malum, qui bonus est: sic difficile aliquem suspicatur bonum, qui ipse malus est. As the good man is not inclined to think evil of another, so the bad man is not disposed to think well of him.—Nero would not believe but all men were lascivious. By suspecting that to be which we see not, we intimate to the world either what our own lives have been, or what our dispositions are. Jealousy is the worst kind of madness. We seek for that which we would not find; or, if we do, what is it we get but matter of vexation? which we come so basely by, that we are ashamed to own it. So we are forced to keep it boiling in our breasts like new wine to the hazard of the hogshead, for want of venting. Jealousy is a gin which we set to catch serpents, and which, as soon as we have caught them, they sting us. Are we not mad, who being at peace, must needs go in search of discontentments? So far should we be from seeking them, that, generally speaking, we ought to be careless of those we find. Neglect kills an injury sooner than revenge. When Socrates was told that one railed at him, Let him, said he, beat me too; so I be absent I care not. He that will question every unpleasant word which he hears spoken of him shall have few friends, has but little wit, and will have much trouble. When Chrysippus was informed that his friend reproached him privately, he replied, Aye, but chide him not, for then he will do as much in public. We are all sure to meet with vexation enough which we cannot avoid. I cannot think any man loves sorrow so well as, in his discretion, to invite it to dwell in his heart. Did not Pompey do well to commit those letters to the fire before he read them, in which he expected to find the cause of his grief? I will never unworthily try to come at a knowledge of that which can only occasion me trouble. Why should we not be ashamed to do that which we are ashamed to be caught in doing? If I hear anything by accident which may benefit me, I will, if I can, profit by it: but I will never lie in wait for my own abuse or for the abuse of others, which concerns me not; nor will I flame at every vain tongue’s puff. He has a poor spirit who is not planted above petty wrongs. Small injuries I would either not hear, or not mind; nay, though I were told them, I would not know the author, for by this I may mend myself without revenging myself upon the person.