And that poore knowledge whereby we conceive what _raine_ is, what _wind_, what _thunder_, wee call _Metaphyſicke, ſupernaturall_; ſuch _ſmall_ things, ſuch _no_ things doe we allow to our pliant _Natures_ apprehenſion. Laſtly, by following her, we loſe the pleaſant, and lawfull commodities of this life, for wee ſhall drinke water and eate rootes, and thoſe not ſweet and delicate, as now by Mans _art_ and _induſtry_ they are made: we ſhall loſe all the neceſſities of _ſocieties_, _lawes_, _arts_, and _ſciences_, which are all the workemanſhip of _Man_: yea we ſhall lack the laſt _beſt refuge_ of miſery, _death_; becauſe _no death is naturall_: for if yee will not dare to call all _death violent_ (though I ſee not why _ſickneſſes_ be not _violences_) yet _cauſes_ of all _deaths_ proceed of the _defect_ of that which _nature_ made perfect, and would preſerve, and therefore all againſt _nature_. [Decoration] 9. _That only Cowards dare dye._ _Extreames_ are equally removed from the _meane_; ſo that headlong _deſperateneſſe_ aſmuch offends true _valour_, as backward _Cowardice_: of which ſort I reckon juſtly all _un-inforced deaths_. When will your _valiant_ man dye of neceſſity? ſo _Cowards_ ſuffer what cannot be avoided: and to runne into _death unimportun’d_, is to runne into the firſt condemned deſperateneſſe. Will he dye when he is _rich_ and _happy_? then by living he may doe more good: and in _afflictions_ and _miſeries_, _death_ is the choſen refuge of _Cowards_. _Fortiter ille facit, qui miſer eſſe poteſt._