EPICTETVS his Manuall. And CEBES his Table. Out of the Greeke originall, by Io: HEALEY.

AT LONDON Printed for E. Blunt and W. Bar [...]et. 1610.

To a true sauorer of forward spirits, Maister Iohn Florio.

SIR, as distressed Sostratus spake to more fortunate Areius, to make him his mediator to Augus­tus The learned loue the lear­ned, if they be rightly learned: So this your poore friend though he haue found much of you, yet doth still follow you for as much more: that as his Mecaenas you would write to Augustus, Bee as mindefull of Horace, as you would bee of my selfe: For his [Page] apprentises essay you pro­cured (GOD thanke you) an impregnable protection: He now prayes the same Pa­tron (most worthy of all praise) for his iourney-mans Maister-peece: yet as Horace to Vinnius for his verses to Augustus, Ne studio nostri pecces.—And though the land bee the Lords wherein hee most laboured; yet see a handfull of fruites is falne to your share, who first shewed his workmanship. This Ma­nuall of Epictetus, though not Saint Augustines Enchiridi­on, now by hap is the hand, or rather the hand-maide of a greater body of Saint [Page] Augustines: and hath beene held by some the hand to Phylosophy, the instru­ment of instruments: as Nature, greatest in the least: as Homers Ilias in a nutshell: in lesse compasse more cun­ning: In all languages, ages, by all persons high prized, imbraced, yea imbosomed. It filles not the hand with leaues, but files y e head with leslons: nor would bee held in hand, but had by hart to boote. He is more senceles then a stocke, that hath no good sence of this Stoick. For the translation and tran­slator, to whome better re­course, then one so trauail'd [Page] in translation; both patterne and patron of translators. Artificers best iudge of arts. Wise they must bee that iudge the wise. But a short booke would haue no long Epistle, more then a small Towne a great gate. Wher­fore as hee desired, I haue done: Who rest,

Yours in true harted loue. TH. TH.

The life of EPIC­TETVS.

EPICTETVS vvas a Phi­losopher of the sect of the Stoikes, borne in Hiera­polis (now called Haleppo, si­tuate in Phrygia, not farre from Laodicea): His estate was seruile; according to the testimony of AVLVS GELLIVS in his Noctes Atticae. For at Rome he was slaue vnto one EPAPHRODITVS, one of NERO's familiars. His life was spotlesse and vntaintable, his spirit wholy secluded that arrogancie of carriage which [Page] otherwise stuck as a great ble­mish in the liues of the most and best Philosophers. For his esteeme, it had that high place in the worlds affection, that his very lamp [...] (beeing but of Potters claye) was bought and solde for fifty pounds sterling. Of this EPICTETVS, you shall finde honorable mention made in LVCIAN, who other­wise was a perpetuall detractor from all the Philosophers, and in generall, a professed scorner of Gods and men. And in that place where he mentions him, hee toucheth also at this sale of his lampe, (for thus he wri­teth in his Dialogue; [...] [Page] that is, to the vnlearned en­grosser of books:) Our times (saith he) hath brought forth a man, and I thinke hee is yet aliue, that gaue fifty pound for EPICTETVS his earthen Lampe, thinking (be-like) that if hee had but light to study by from thence, that then hee should haue all EPICTE­TVS his wisdome inspired in­to him in dreames, and so be­come parallell to that admired father. Thus writeth LVCIAN. EPICTETVS was wont to af­firme, that the scope and ex­tent of all Philosophy was in­cluded in these two vvords: [...], Beare and Forbeare. In the reigne of [Page] DOMITIAN, either his owne dislike of his tyrannicall gouernment, or the Senates edict for the expulsion of all the Philosophers out of Rome, made him depart to Hierapo­lis, his natiue soyle, whence afterwards hee is sayd to re­turne, and so to make his aboade in Rome vntill the reigne of MARCVS ANTO­NIVS, about which time hee dyed.

EPICTETVS his Manuall.

CHAPTER. 1.

IN the order of the worlds exis­tence, there are some things na­turally subiec­ted vnto our command, and some that exceed it. Of the first sort, is Opinion, affect, de­sire, dislike, & in a word, all ac­tions, whose performance is peculiarly resident in our selues: Of the latter sort, is the body, riches, glory, soue­rainty, and to conclude, al­things [Page 2] whose perfections depend not on our selues, but ab externo.

CHAP. 2.

The things that are sway­ed by our humaine wills, are in their owne nature free, and surmounters of all lettes and impediments what-so­euer. But the other from whose managing we are na­turally secluded, are expo­sed vnto all infirmity, slaue­ry, and hindrance, and in­deed, direct aliens from our proper goods.

CHAP. 3.

[Page 3]Wherefore take this gene­rall memento, if thou repute those thinges that are natu­rally seruile, to bee really free, and confound thy pro­per goods with mixture of those externall ones, thou shalt neuer want woe, but bee driuen by sorrowe and perturbation to giue termes of offence both to God and Man. But if thou prize nothing for thine own but that which is essentially so, and hold all those exter­nall goods, as they are, truly aliens from thy state, thou shalt bee seated aboue the power of all iniury or com­pulsion: thou shalt haue no [Page 4] accusation to lay against any man, nor any act which thy will shall not prompt thee to perform: thou shalt stand beyond the reach of hurt, and without the feare of foes. Briefly, thou shalt not tast of the least calamity.

CHAP. 4.

If thine affections therefore stand for these happy ob­iects, be sure that thou pur­sue them with a more then meane alacrity, resoluing to omitte some thinges for e­uer, and othersome but for the present. Mary if thy de­sires beare a like leuell both [Page 5] vnto these, and likewise vnto ritches, honours and soue­raignties; thou maist per­haps come short of the at­tainment euen of those la­ter, because thou standest so affected vnto the former: but, how-soeuer, thou shalt bee sure to loose the first, which are the only steps and guides vnto all freedome and felicity.

CHAP. 5.

Wherfore when thou seest any distastfull occurrence, let it be thy first care to per­swade thy self thus: rush this is but a phantasie, and is not [Page 6] as it seemes. And afterwards when thou commest to ex­amine it more exactly, fol­low the rules thou hast pre­scribed vnto thee; and this especially: Whether this occurrence concerne the things that lye vnder mans managing or no? if it do not, then the case is plaine, it is wholy impertinent to thee.

CHAP. 6.

Remember well that the ayme of appetite, is to at­taine what it affecteth, and the maine of dislike is to a­uoyde what it disliketh. So that to bee frustrated of [Page 7] what wee desire, and to in­curre what wee would a­uoide, are both vnfortunate euents. If therefore thy de­sires stand at the staues end, onely with those things that are vndoubtedly opposit vn­to those which are at thine owne dispose, thou shalt ne­uer meete with any motion of dislike, but if thou stand at defiance with death, sick­nesse or pouerty, and seek­est to eschue these, thou art in the direct course of cala­mitie.

CHAP. 7.

Thou shalt therefore re­moue [Page 8] thy dislike from these thinges that are not in the compasse of our com­maund, and make those the obiectes thereof, which are the essentiall opposites of those that ar vnder our mo­deration and gouernment. But as for appetite, let it not by any meanes haue accesse into thy thoughts as yet. For if thou affect what thou canst not attaine, thy desires must perforce bee frustrate. But how, or in what mea­sure to affect the true and fit obiects of affect (such things I meane as are at our owne discretion) thou hast not as yet learned. Vse onely that [Page 9] same [...], that instinct, which attracteth the spirite vnto this, and with-draweth it from that: but this must bee with dilligent restraint, and moderation thereof in both respects.

CHAP. 8.

In all thinges that are ei­ther delectable, profitable, or amiable, be sure that thou do first of all examine their existence; beginning at mat­ters of the least moment; if thou takest delight in such a pot or glasse, consider that it is but a pot, or a glasse that thou delightest in: so shall [Page 10] not the breaking of that, breake the peace of thy minde. So, if thou loue thy wife, or children, consider that they are but mortals, on whom thy loue is laide, and so though they perish, thy quiet shall still suruiue.

CHAP. 9.

When thou entrest vpon any action, take an exact sur­uey of the nature thereof; as if thou goe to bathe, ob­serue both the necessary and the accidentall euents in ba­thing, that some are a wash­ing, some are a thrusting out of the bathe, some rayling, [Page 11] and other some stealing. And to goe surely to worke, pro­pose but this to thy selfe, I will dispatch my bathing, and obserue the direct pre­scription of nature in this my purpose. And this like­wise in all other designes. For this ground being laide, there is no inconuenience cā surprize the vnprouided. For this thou maiest say, I was not onely aware of this, but also resolued before, to follow my determination according to nature, how-so-euer. But if I doe grum­ble at any euent, then did I not obserue it before it be­fell.

CHAP. 10.

It is not the trunesse of things themselues, but mens indirect opinions thereof that fill their bosomes with perturbations. As for ex­ample: death is not euil in it selfe: for if it had bene so, So­crates would not haue said otherwise: but it is the opi­nion that men carry of death, which giueth it al the maleuolence it hath. Ther­fore in our crosses and in­combrances, we should doe well to with-draw our accu­sations from others, and lay them vppon our selues and [Page 13] our owne misprisions.

To accuse others in any misfortune of our owne, is the character of igno­rance: to accuse ones selfe, intimates some progresse in knowledge: but to accuse neither our selues nor o­thers, argues perfection of vnderstanding.

CHAP. 11.

Neuer be proud of excel­lence in others: if an horsse should boast of him-selfe, and say I am a goodly beast, it were some-what tollera­ble, but for thee to cast forth thy braues that thou [Page 14] hast such a goodly horse, is ridiculous, for thou art proud of thy horses person, and goodnesse, not thine owne. What is thine owne then? The vse of obiects: well then, when thou hast the habite of swaying these obiects according to the methode that nature hath prescribed, then boast and spare not, for by that time, thou maiest haue goods of thine owne to delight in.

CHAP. 12.

For as it is in nauigation, if the ship bee landed, and thou goest a shore for fresh [Page 15] water, perhaps, by the way, thou maiest gather a coc­kle, or a scallion, or so, and yet not-with-standing thy minde is principally on the ship, and thine eare still at­tentiue on the maisters call, at which thou leauest all, and runnest, least thou bee chained and stowed vnder hatches, as they are faine to doe in transportation of sheepe: so in the maine voyage of this life, if thou lightest on a wife, or a childe, insteed of a cockle, or a scallion, thou mayest take them with-out trou­ble. But if the maister call, then, thou trudgest away, [Page 16] then a boord, leauing thy trash, and neuer looking af­ter it: well then, if thou beest aged, beware of wandring far from the ship, least the maister call, & thou shouldst faint ere thou couldst come to bee imbarked.

CHAP. 13.

Thou oughtest not to wish that all euents should sort vnto thine affection: wisedome would rather ad­uise thee to wish the euents of all occurents to be such, as they are. Sicknesse is a clogge and a shackle vnto the body, but none to thy [Page 17] minde vnlesse thou list thy selfe. Lamenesse incombers the legges, but not the reso­lution. This if thou doe but note in all other accidents, thou shalt finde them all to be rather encombrances, vn­to al other things, then vnto thy determinations.

CHAP 14.

At all occasions, be ready to turn to thine own thoughts, and therin search the proper instructiōs which thou hast concerning the vses of what soeuer befalleth thee: if thou see a beautifull personage, call Temperance to hir taske, [Page 18] and shee will come with a­lacrity. If thou meetest with paines, make thy buckler of pacience, which also is the surest shield for the repulse of reproache. Vse but thy selfe vnto this course, and thou shalt bee no more ouer-maystred by appea­rances.

CHAP. 15.

Let it neuer come forth of thy mouth that thou hast lost any thing: but that thou hast restored it. Thy sonne is dead: why then hee is restored vnto him that lent him thee. Thy [Page 19] liuings are taken from thee. Why so then, are they not restored? No, for hee was a wicked man that gotte them from mee. Why, what is that to thee, what in­struments he that gaue thee them will vse, for the taking them againe? as long as thou hast them, vse them, but as if they were an other mans, and this thou maiest learne by the trauellers vsage of his Inne, and lodging.

CHAP. 16.

If euer thou wilt attaine [Page 20] to any progresse in good­nesse, thou must stand at vtter defiance with such co­gitations as these: if I neg­lect mine owne estate, I shall want whereon to liue. If I correct not my sonne, he will neuer bee good. It is farre better to starue with hunger, and so bee quit at once from the feeling of feare and molestation, then to liue in aboundance of all externall goods, with a minde perturbed, and voide of all inward content. And it is better to see badnesse in ones sonne, then to feele misery in ones selfe.

CHAP. 17.

Begin at the lowest steppe of the worlds occasions. Is thine oile spilt, or thy farme spoiled? well, suppose this with thy selfe: this I pay for my peace of conscience, and this for my constancie in troubles: nothing is got­ten for gramercy. And when thou callest thy boy, presup­pose that he will not come, or if he doe, that hee will do nothing as thou wouldest haue him. But euer beware of this, that it lye not in his power to perturbe thy set­led quiet at his pleasure.

CHAP. 18.

If thou ayme at perfecti­on in Phylosophy, neuer make bones of beeing re­puted a foole or an asse in worldly respectes: Nor mayst thou professe any knowledge at any hand. If thou seeme wise vnto o­thers, yet distrust it thy selfe. For bee thou well assured of this, that it is an enterprise of extreme dif­ficulty to containe thy de­terminations in the partes which nature and reason hath proposed, and yet to ad­mit the fruition of things ex­ternall: [Page 23] And a thousand to one, that he that respects the one, must necessarily reiect the other.

CHAP. 19.

If thy care to keep thy wife, children, friends, and family, in perpetuall fulnesse of health and externall hap­pines, thou shewest thy self a foole, for thou indeauorest to sway those thinges that stand without the compasse of thy power, and to turn ex­ternal goods into reall ones. Now if thy will be that thy sonne should not runne in­to enormities, thou art a [Page 24] foole in that. For thy desire is, that error should not bee error, but of some other nature. But if thy desire bee not to bee frustrate in thy wishes, this may be allowed thee.

CHAP. 20.

That man is absolute Lord ouer euery thing, who at his owne pleasure can preserue or deliuer the things which his will is to preserue or de­liuer: He therefore that will bee free, must neither desire nor dislike any thing that is in the power of others to dispose of. Otherwise, hee [Page 25] must take the yoake whe­ther he will or no.

CHAP. 21.

Remember that this life, is but as a banquet. If any one carue to thee take part of y e peece with modesty, and re­turne the rest: is the dish set from thee? stay it not: is it not yet come to thee? gape not after it, but expect it with sober behauiour. Beare but this hand on thine affec­tions to thy wife, thy chil­dren, dignities, and possessions, and thou shalt in time bee a fitte guest for the ban­quets of the Gods. But ad­mitte [Page 26] that a profer of some of those bee made thee: if then thou doe truly despise and refuse it, thou shalt not onely bee worthy to share with the Gods in their ban­quets, but euen in their glo­ries. By this meanes did Diogenes, Heraclitus, and o­thers, purchase that epithite worthy their reuerend cari­age, Diuine.

CHAP. 22.

When thou seest any one lamenting either because his son is gon to trauel, or for some other temporall mis­hap, bee sure to carry a wary [Page 27] respect vnto thy self, that the sight hereof breed no altera­tion in thy thoughts, as to perswade thee that it is those externall goodes that haue brought downe this calami­ty vppon him: But rather make a distinction with thy selfe, and bee readye to tell thy thoughts this tale: It is not this casualty that afflicts this man (for had it befalne some other it would not haue afflicted him) but it is his owne mis-apprehensi­on hereof, that maketh him mone thus. Thus resolued, doe not doubt to minister the best counsell that thou canst afforde to asswage [Page 28] his passion, to which end thou maist lawfully put on a forme of teares to associ­ate his teares. But bee sure thy minde bee not any way molested, looke to that a­boue all things.

CHAP. 23.

Consider with thy selfe that thou hast that part to playe heere on this earthly stage, which thy maister hath voutch safed to appoint thee: bee it a long part or a short, in a long playe or a short. If hee haue decreed that thou shouldst act a beg­ger, let it be thine endeuour [Page 29] to represent the imposed person, ingeniously, and in­dustriouslye. So like-wise must thou doe in the parts of a cripple, a King, or a common Plebeian. It is thy duty to discharge thine ap­pointed part with discreti­on, but what part thou shalt haue allotted thee, is left vnto the direction of ano­ther.

CHAP. 24.

If thou obserue any in­auspicious signe in the croa­king of the Rauen, or such like auguries, keepe thy minde firme against all such [Page 30] Phantasies, and say with thy selfe, this presage becom­meth not me, but eyther my body, my state, my credite, my children, my wife, or something that way: but vn­to my selfe, all Potentates are fortunate, if so bee I list my selfe. For what-soeuer befalleth, is lest vnto mee, to make mine vse thereof.

CHAP. 25.

The way to bee inuin­cible, is neuer to contend: for it is not in our power to bee victorious when wee please.

CHAP. 26.

When thou beholdest a man high-topt with honors, proud in rich possession, and flourishing in externall feli­cities, beware that thine eye do not cause thy ton­gue to call that man happy. For if true tranquili­ty haue hir feate onely in thinges that lye wholy at our dispose, then must there bee no place there, eyther for enuy or emu­lation, nor must thy de­sires flye eyther after Con­fulshippes nor Kingdomes, but after freedome. [Page 32] To which freedome there is but one onely way conduc­teth vs, and that is, The con­tempt of all things that are not in our povvers to dispose of.

CHAP. 27.

Remember that hee that shall iniure thee by word, or violence, is not the author of that iniury him-selfe, but the opinion which causeth thee to hold those actions as disgracefull and iniurious. Wherefore when any one derideth thee, know that is but thine owne opinion that suggesteth this to be a deri­sion. And therefore haue an [Page 33] especiall care to curbe thy minde from too quick as­senting to thine eye. Gette but a little time of the ob­iect, ere thou giue vp thine assent, and thou shalt haue thy iudgement at a farre ea­sier command.

CHAP. 28.

Let thy dayly meditation bee of death, exile, and all other accidents which the world reputeth for calami­ties. But amongst all, let death haue the first ranke in thy contemplation. So shall thy cogitations neuer bee deiected, and so shall thine [Page 34] affections neuer bee exorbi­tant.

CHAP. 29.

Dost thou ayme at the attaynment of wisedome? Then first of all, prepare thy selfe to bee the worldes laughing-stocke, to bee the common place of the multitude of mockers. There will one come with this guird: Oh here is a mush­rump Phylosopher! shotte vppe since yesterday: Ano­ther with this: Lord sir where light you on this graue statelinesse? But let not statelinesse bee found in [Page 35] thee: such thinges as shall seeme to participate really of goodnesse, sticke to them as firme as if GOD him­selfe hadde fixt thy station therein: and assure thy selfe that if thou continue this course, they that derided thee heretofore, will admire thee here-after. But if thy spirit yeeld vnto their scoffs, then doubtlesse shalt thou incurre a redoubled deri­sion.

CAHP. 30.

If euer thou seek to be emi­nent, and to satisfie the affec­tions of others. know this vn­doubtedly [Page 36] that thou hast lost thine hold of perfection. And therefore let thy rest be set vpon this, in all acci­dents, that thou art a Philo­sopher: which if thou desire to make apparant vnto any one, giue thy selfe the first notice of it, and let that bee sufficient.

CHAP. 31.

Let it neuer greeue thee to be destitute of honours, and places of state: for if it bee an euill thing to lacke preferment, then haue ex­ternall things alike power to draw thee into inconue­nience, [Page 37] & into vice. Is it thy part then to hunt after dig­nity? or to wish to be inui­ted to such or such a great mans banquet? O by no meanes. What reproache then can once touch thee? or how is it possible that thou canst want an honora­ble place, when thou maiest bee Lord and Soueraigne ouer all those goods which are peculiar adhaerents to the nature of man? O but I cannot benefit my friends: No? who told you so? It may be thou not canst aide them with money, nor pro­cure them the freedome of the citty: what then? Did [Page 38] euer man teach thee that these were not the gifts of others, nor excluded wholye from our dispo­sings? And who will helpe another to that which hee wanteth himselfe? I but wee intreate you (say they) to vse but some meanes where-by wee may attaine this or that: Well, if I may doe so with-out iniury to mine honesty, my faith, and the high pitch of mine owne thoughts, and that you will shew me how, I wil vse all the meanes I can for you. But if you care not if I lose my true goods to pur­chase you things only seem­ing [Page 39] good, is that a part of honest friendship, or of head-long fondnesse? What doe you make choise of? an honest friend, or an heauy purse? If you approoue the first, then assist mee in the preseruation of mine hone­sty, and be not the causes of employing mee in those businesses whereby I should bring all my goodnesse to nothing.

O but I haue yet no meanes to benefite my countrey! As how man? you cannot builde it a schoole, an Exchange, or a Bathe: what's all that to the purpose? the Armorer [Page 40] doth not store the common­wealth with shooes, nor the sho-omaker with armes. It sufficeth euery man to con­taine him-selfe in his owne vocation. Now if thou per­chance should by thine in­structions ingraff true good­nesse in some other of thy country-men, shouldst thou not benefit thy country? as­sure thy selfe thou shouldst: thou art no vnprofitable member in the state then. Yea but what place shall I hold then (saiest thou) in the body politique? Euen what place so euer thou canst with the saue-gard of thy modesty and integrity▪ but [Page 41] if thou casheere them to pleasure thy country, what vse shall a good state haue of one giuen ouer to impu­dence and treachery?

CHAP. 32.

Doost thou see any one preferred before thee at banquets, in salutations, or in councels? well, if these be good things, thou oughtest to congratulate with him to whom they are befallen. But if they be euills, greeue not that thou hast missed them, but remember, that seeing it is not thy study to pursue those things that are not in [Page 42] a mans owne power to dis­pose of, thou canst not pos­sibly haue those graces alot­ted thee, that others haue, whose study is all vpon that obiect. For how shall hee that doth not attend con­tinually at a great mans doore, haue equall place in his fauour with him that doth giue this due atten­dance? or he that waites not at his heeles, with him that doth? or he that flatters him not, with him that doth? vn­iust and insatiable therefore should thine affections be, if thou pay not the due price for things that are thus sale­able, and yet thinke to haue [Page 43] them giuen thee gratis: For admitte this comparison: what's the price of a dish of lettice? say an halfe-peny. Well, one comes, payes his halfe-peny and hath his let­tice: if thou pay nothing, and so haue none, doost thou thinke thy selfe in worse place then hee that had of them? no, thou hast no rea­son to do so, for as hee hath his lettice, so thou hast paid no price. Euen so it is here. Thou art not inuited vnto some great mans banquet? why, nor hast thou defrayed the price that the banquet is sold for: namely praise, and flattory for which the [Page 44] maker there-of setteth it foorth to sayle. Pay then the price of it, if it like thee to pertake of it. But if thou wilt not performe the first, and yet desirest to enioy the lat­ter, thy thoughts are basely couetous and deiectd. Well then insteed of this feast, thou hast nothing. No? yes that thou hast: thou hast not pleased him whom thou couldst not finde in thine heart to praise; nor hast thou been forced to endure his insolence, by eating of his viands.

CHAP. 33.

The prescriptions of na­ture are layde downe appa­rantly, euen in things wher­of all the world hath one opinion. As for example: if thy neighbours childe doe breake a glasse, or such like, euery one presently can say it was a chance. Why know then, that if it had beene thine owne, that had beene broken, thou oughtest to be perturbed no more, then thou wast at the breaking of thy neighbors. Now ascend from this vnto things of greater moment: thy neigh­bours [Page 46] wise, or his childe dyeth. Euery one can say, Why! wee are all mor­tall; what remedie! but when his owne goes, then presently hee bursteth forth with, O woe is mee! O mee most wretched man! where­as in very deed wee ought now chiefelye to remem­ber how wee stoode af­fected when wee heard of the like casualtie be fallen others.

CHAP. 34.

As the markes in shoo­ting are not sett to make the Archer leuell wide: so [Page 47] like-wise wee see in nature there is nothing essential­lye euill. If any man by chance should fall a strike­ing thee, and another stand by and let him alone, thou wouldest thinke hardly of him: and art not thou a­shamed then to lette thy thoughts bee iniured by euery man, and to be gree­ued and vexed at the scoffes of euery one? bee aduised then, and aduenture vpon nothing with-out due con­sideration of the preceden­ces and consequences ther­of, and then proceed, freely. Other-wise thou maist well go cheerfully about it in the [Page 48] beginning (hauing not ob­serued the accidents depen­ding there-vpon) but in the processe of the worke, thou art sure to bee chased from proceeding by some dis­gracefull obstacle or other.

CHAP. 35.

Wouldest thou be victor in the Olympick games? In troth and so would I, it is a glory of great esteeme. But marke what doth ordinary­lye fore-runne it, and what followeth it: and then enter the lists: thou must bee tyed to keepe order, to eate but when needs must, to for­beare [Page 49] all delicacies, to vse necessary excercises, at set times, to drinke no cold wa­ter, nor wine but at prescri­bed seasons: brieflye, you must bee as obsequious to your Wrastlers and your Fencers prescriptions as you would bee to your Physitians. And then you come to the tryall: where the hand perhaps is hurt, or the anckle wrested: downe you goe in the dust, and rise perhaps with your mouths full thereof: here maist thou get thy skin full of strokes, and be ouer-throwne when all is done. Consider all this wel, and then if you like, [Page 50] it, turne champion and spare not. If not thou must retire as little children doe, that now play the Wrastlers, now the Fencers, and by and by the Fidlers, now they sound the Trumpets, and presently they present the tragedies: Euen so shalt thou doe; one while being a wrastler, another while a Fencer, then an Oratour, and lastly a Philosopher: but indeed, directly nothing: but as an Ape doth, imitating all thou seest, and posting in thine affections perpetually from one obiect to another. The reason is, thou takest no premeditation of the depen­ces [Page 51] of what-so-euer thou goest about, but hurlest on vnto action with-out all dis­cretion, being wholy sway­ed by the leuity of appetite. Such a company were they who hearing a Philosopher say: O how truly spake Socra­tes in this? nay what man on earth can speake as hee did? would needes here vpon in all hast, turne flatte Philo­sophers.

CHAP. 36.

Man, consider first the na­ture of the thing that thou intendest, & secondly, thine owne nature, whether they [Page 52] two may hold good corres­pondence together or no. Hast thou desire to pro­ceede maister in the fiue exercises? or in Wrestling onely? Why looke vpon thine armes, thighes, and legges, and examine them all well: for these are natu­rall assistants one to ano­ther. Doost thou thinke that in these courses, thou canst eate, drinke, and ab­staine, all in one measure? Thou must labour, thou must watch, thou must leaue thy friends, thou must be­come an obiect for the very scorne of children, thou must bee debased vnder all [Page 53] men besides thee in honors, offices, counsels, and in [...]ll causes whatsoeuer: lay these things to thine heart, & re­solue with thy selfe whether thou wouldst change thy peace, freedome, and con­stancie of minde, for these other endowments. If thou wouldst not, then follow the fashion of boyes no longer to bee now a Philosopher, now a Publican, now an ora­tor, & tomorrow the deputy of Caesar. Here is no cohae­rence in these things: to be a man fixt, either in good­nesse or badnesse, is a mans part. Thou must either prac­tise thy reason and vnder­standing, [Page 54] or giue all thy ser­uice to the world, and the worlds dependances. Thy la­bor must be emploied either abroad or at home: that is thou must either bee a pro­fessed Philosopher, or a di­rect member of the vulgar.

CHAP. 37.

All offices of man in this world are to bee proportio­nate by mutuall affections. Hast thou a father? that name cōmands thy diligent care of him, and thy forbea­rance of him in all things: binding thy pacience to endure his worst callumnies and most iniurious violen­ces. [Page 55] Imagine him a wicked man: hath nature then alot­ted thee a good father? no, but a father shee hath: well, then doe thy duty to him with all diligence, stand not to examine his actions, but to foresee, that in all thine actions vnto him the ordi­nance of nature be kept in­uiolate. So shall no man hurt thee, vnlesse thou list thy selfe: and when thou supposest thy selfe hurt, then shalt thou bee hurt indeed. This is thy way to discerne the duty of a neighbour, a citizen, or an Emperour, by a dayly speculation of their mutuall concords.

CHAP. 38.

Know, that the first and formost point of religion is a true beleefe: to bee assu­redly perswaded, that there is a God, and that he sway­eth the state of the whole vniuerse, in goodnesse and in iustice: that we must obey him, & assent vnto his com­mands in the smallest condi­tion: approouing all his ac­tions, and following their directions as the effects of that purest & most glorious Intellect. Thus dooing, thou shalt neuer haue cause to repine at him, nor to repute [Page 57] him negligent of thee. Now this cannot bee, vnlesse thou reiect the things that lye not in thy power to dispose of, and place the whole na­ture of good and euill in those things whose order is tyed vnto mans owne dis­cretion. For if thou binde, either goodnesse or bad­nesse to any of the other, it is vnpossible that thou shouldst not accuse the au­thor of them, and grow in­to an hate of him, when-so­euer thou art deceiued of what thou desiredst, and fal­lest into that which thou soughtest to auoyd. For it is inherent in euery creature [Page 58] by nature, to abhorre and eschue the originall causes of all that seemeth hurtfull, as well as the effects them­selues: and contrarywise, to follow, and admire the cau­ses and productions of all that seemeth vse-full. Hee therefore that thinketh him­selfe iniured, hath small reason to reioyce in that hee seemeth to iniurie the other againe: for it is im­possible that losse should bee parent vnto true de­light. But this erronious conceit, maketh the sonne to disparage the father, when hee doth not al­lowe him enough of that [Page 59] which opinion holdeth for a true good, and this made Eteocles and Polinices go to­gether by the eares for their fathers Empire, because they thought there was such a deale of happinesse inclu­ded in soueraignty. This maketh the husband-man curse the heauens one while and the sea-man another while: the merchant also, & the man that burieth his wife or children: For these mens piety is inseperably chained vnto their profit. But he whose endeuor work­eth for a due moderation of his desire, & dislike, herein laieth down a good ground [Page 60] or his piety also. Now as or sacrifices and offrings, et each one obserue the custome of the land where­in hee liueth: dooing it with purity, parsimonie, di­ligence, cleannesse, and with-in the compasse of his ability.

CHAP. 39.

When thou goest vnto a diuinatour, remember that thou knowest not the end of that thou goest about, but goest to learne that of him. But if thou beest a Philo­sopher, thou knowest the quality of it ere thou goest. [Page 61] For if it concerne a thing that is not in the power of man, it is impossible that it should bee either good or e­uil. So that when thou com­mest to the Sooth-sayer, be sure thou leaue both dislike, and desire behinde thee: o­therwise, thou shalt neuer approach his face without feare. But sette downe thy staffe at this, what euer the end bee, it no way concer­neth thee: For thou hast power to make vse of it, come in what shape soeuer it will: And in this none in the World can bee thy hinderance. And therefore come to the Goddes, as to [Page 62] thy counsellors with a bold spirit: and when thou hast hard their wils, remember who are thy Councellors, and how great a contempt thou shalt committe in diso­beying their direction. But if thou come to the Oracle (as it pleased Socrates to do) about a thing whose whole consideration relyeth vppon the euent; & wherin neither Art nor Reason can aide thee with knowledge of the dependances, then must thou ruminate vpon the first head therof: therfore if thou beest to vndergo the defence of thy friend or countrey w t danger of thine own per­son [Page 63] neuer go to aske the Au­gure whether thou shouldst defend them or no. For if he tel thee the intrailes presage misfortune, it is likely that he meaneth eyther of death, or the laming of some mem­ber, or of banishment. But then comes reason on the other side, and this withall: The daunger that I vnder­go, my friend and countrey vndergoeth also with mee. And therefore herein take councell of that great Py­thian Prieste, who expel­led one out of the Temple for not helping his friend in a mortall extremity.

CHAP. 40.

Prescribe thy selfe a cer­taine forme of lawe to ob­serue, both in thine owne speculation alone, and when thou also conuersest with others.

CHAP. 41.

Silence generally is a thing of great approbation: so is the breuity of speach together with the necessity of the thing spoken. Wee should bee sparing of our tongues, neither admitting euery occasion of talke, nor [Page 65] euery subiect in our talke, as to discours of fencers, plaies, wrastlings, drinkings, the common bumbast of euery mans conference. And when wee speake of men, lette our especiall care be to keep our selues either from com­mending any man or censu­ring him, with others.

CHAP. 42.

Adapt the discourses of thy friends vnto thine owne as neare as thou canst: but if thou beest in strange com­pany be silent.

CHAP. 43.

Let not thy laughter be profuse, nor be led by euery light occasion.

CHAP. 44.

If thou canst possibly, let neuer oth proceed from thy lippes: at least do what may by all meanes be done to a­uoyd swearing.

CAHP. 45.

Auoid the vulgar ban­quets, reuels and compota­tions: and when occasion ser­ueth [Page 67] curbe thy selfe most stricktly, least thou slippe into the common gulfe of licentious custome. For know that hee that is foule, without all question will in time defile him that conuerseth with him, were he neuer so pure before.

CHAP. 46.

Lette thine vse of bodi­ly necessaries neuer extend further then the bodies ser­uice of the mind requireth: let thy meat, drink, apparrel, house and seruants bee all within the limits of parsim­onious nature: far bee those [Page 68] things from thee, which tend to pomp and ostentation.

CHAP. 47.

Vntil thou takest a wife ab­stain with all thine indeauor from veneriall delights: but being married, vse it lawful­ly, so it bee with modesty. But neuer vpbrayd those that vse it before, nor taunt them with their inconti­nency, nor boast of thine owne abstinence in that kinde.

CHAP. 48.

If one come and tel thee, [Page 69] Such a man slaundered you thus or thus: neuer stand to apologize for thy selfe: but answer him againe only thus: hee knoweth not mine other faults, for if he did, he would neuer haue reckoned only those you tell me off.

CHAP. 49.

There is no necessity of thine often going to the plaies, or to the prizes: but if thou hast any spare time, go, so that it may appeare that thou respectest only thy selfe in these cases, that is, that thou would haue him only to winne the prize, that [Page 70] winneth it, and that only to be acted which is acted: so shall thy thoughts remaine vndisturbed. But for the whootes and cries, & laugh­ters, and other turbulent motions, auoid them vtterly. And when thou goest from the play-house, neuer talke much of that which befell, it no way concernes thy re­formation. If thou doe not as I say, then all the people wil perceiue that thou wast taken with admiration of the goodly shewes.

CHAP. 50.

Be not ouer-hasty of haun­ting [Page 71] the Lectures: But when thou dost go to them, carry thy selfe with all gra­uity and constancy: and giue no man cause of perturba­tion.

CHAP. 51.

When thou hast a busi­nesse with any man (especial­ly if he bee of the Nobility) thinke with thy selfe what cours Socrates or Zeno would take in such a case. So shalt thou bee sure to haue a rule of reason, and there­by thou shalt perform thine affaire with a perfect Deco­rum.

CHAP. 52.

When thou art to go speak with a great man, presup­pose with thy selfe: faith he is not at home, or, he is busy, or, I shall hardly get to the speach of him, or it may bee hee will not respect me. If thine occasion bee so that thou must go thus, why bear these ordinary occurrents, & neuer say vnto thy self, I haue knowne him keep a les­ser state: to say thus, were common grosenesse, peculi­ar onley to him that raileth at externall shadowes.

CHAP. 53.

Amongst thy friendes, be­ware thou neuer stand tedi­ously discoursing of thine owne exploytes or perils: For though the remembe­rance thereof be delightfull vnto thee, yet the recoun­ting of thy fortunes is no­thing so pleasing vnto o­thers.

CHAP. 54.

And euer-more auoid the playing of the Buffone, and procuring of others laugh­ter: for thence may a man [Page 74] soonest of all slippe downe into the basenesse of vulgar behauiour: And this is a thing that is of great force in diminishing thy friendes good likings of thee.

CHAP. 55.

And it is a dangerous en­terprize to enter into dis­courses of obscaenity: when such an accident falleth out (if thou canst conuenient­ly) checke the author of such an vnciuil Theme: but if thou canst not well doe that, then print thy dislike of such an argument in thy lookes, and silence, and by [Page 75] that meanes giue him notice of his errour.

CHAP. 56.

If thy imagination present thee with any delight, clap a bridle on thy thoughtes im­mediatly, least thou be born headlong away therewith. Examine the thing it selfe, and take some time for thy selfe to deliberate: which done, recollect both the times, namely wherein thou maist inioy the pleasure, and that wherin after that fruitiō thou art sure to feele dislike & discontent, lay these two spaces togither, & compare [Page 76] them with this, that if thou abstaine, thou shalt haue cause of ioy, and occasion to commend thine owne cir­cumspection. If thou beest thē to vnder-go any delight­ful actiō, take heed that thou beest not intangled in the sweete inticements thereof: but sette this against them all: O how much more ex­cellent is it for a man to haue his conscience tell him that he hath conquered all these allurements!

CHAP. 57.

When thou performest any thing that thou hast [Page 77] resolued, bee not ashamed of the publike eye, what euer the vulgars censure bee of thee. For if the act bee vnlawfull, then abhorre to resolue of such a thing, but if it be not, why shouldst thou feare a false reprehen­sion?

CHAP. 58.

As in this proposition, It is Daie, and it is Night, the partes beeing seuered, haue both their force in a true signification, but bee­ing conioyned, signifie no truth at all: So at a banquet to fall to the beste dishe [Page 78] at first & to flie al at the fay­rest, is for the bodies good that is fed therwith: but con­sider the presence of the guests, and it is an act incur­ring foule disgrace. VVher­fore whē thou art inuited to a feast, remember this, that the cates y t ar set before thee are to bee prized by the re­spect of the body: and yet ther is a reuerence due to the maister of the feast, and that must needs be obserued.

CHAP. 59.

If thou vndergo a function beyond thy power to dis­charge, y u must needes both [Page 79] performe that vndecently, and likewise thou neglectest another which thou mightst execute with full decency.

CHAP. 60.

Euen as in thy walkes thou hast a care to auoyd the treading vppon nayles, or the wresting of thy feete: So in the mayne course of thy life beware that thou hurt not thy minde, the La­dy of thy works, and thine actions gouernesse. This if wee would looke well vn­to in all our designes would make vs proceede vnto our enterprizes with farre more [Page 80] heed and dilligence.

CHAP. 61.

A mans purse is limi­ted by his body, as the shooe is by the foote. If thou keepe a meane, a meane will keepe thee: but if thou exceede thy bound, thou art in the direct way to headlong ruine: as it is euen in ones shooe: For if thou goest beyond thy necessary accoutrement therein, then first thou must haue a shooe buckled with Golde, and then a Veluet shooe, and then an imbrothered one: For [Page 81] the thing that once leapeth ouer the meane, runneth eternally without limita­tion.

CHAP. 62.

A woman as soone as euer shee reacheth foure­teene, obserueth that men begin to carry an eye of obseruation vpon her, and therfore she perceiuing that there is no vse of her but in a mans armes, beginneth to tricke vppe her selfe, and all the hope shee hath, is in her comely wearing of hir clothes. But it were a labour worthy commen­dations [Page 82] to giue them all to vnderstand that they haue no way in the worlde to procure them-selues cre­dite, but by their modes­tie, shamefastnesse and so­briety.

CHAP. 63.

The true signe of a stu­pid witte is, to bee alway conuersant in corporall matters: As in long ex­ercise of the body: in much eating, drinking, stoo­ling, or in excessiue practise of Venus her prescripti­ons. These thinges are to bee sodainely dispat­ched: [Page 83] The serious de­liberation of thinges is peculiar to the mentall fruition.

CHAP. 64.

VVhen-soeuer any man hath offended thee in word or in worke, remember this, that it was an opini­on that told him hee did as be- fitted him heerein: for it cannot bee that he should satisfie thy liking in this acte, but his owne liking. Now if his iudge­mente sayle him, why then hee that is decei­ued hath the losse fallen on [Page 84] his side. For hee that shall define an vndiscouered truth to bee a lye, wrongs not the truth herein, but is wronged him-selfe, by his misconceite of the truth. Take but these groundes with thee, and thou shal­neuer bee molested by the callumnies of others. For, thou hast this repulse for euery disgrace that shall be obiected, It is but your opi­nion.

CHAP. 65.

Euery thing may bee ap­prehended two wayes, ey­ther with toleration, or with [Page 85] impatience. If thy brother offer thee iniury, doe not consider it is an iniurious part, for so thou shalt de­cline vnto the impatient ap­prehending of it, but re­uolue this in thy thoughts, that he is thy brother, borne and brought vpp together with thee: so shalt thou ap­prehend the wrong done with a minde intending mi­tigation.

CHAP. 66.

There is no coherence in these assertions, I am richer then you, and so I am better then you. I am more eloquent [Page 86] then you, therefore I am your better: there is more a great deale in these: I am richer then you: therefore my wealth is aboue yours. I am more eloquent then you: ther­fore, my pleading exceedeth yours. But thou thy selfe art neither wealth it selfe nor eloquence.

CHAP. 67.

If any man be briefe in his bathing (or in any other exercise) thou maist not say that he hath done it badly, but briefly. If any one drinke much wine, say not that hee hath drunke badly, but [Page 87] largely. For before thou censure him, how knowest thou that hee hath offended herein. So shalt thou get the true knowledge when to censure the things thou seest, and when to approoue them.

CHAP. 68.

Neuer professe thy selfe a Philosopher, neuer dis­pute of learning amongst the vnlearned. Neuer dis­course at a feast of the best formes of eating or drinking, but eate and drinke as best befitteth thee. And remember that [Page 88] this was Socrates continuall course, for auoyding of o­stentation: they that desired hee should commend them to the Philosophers, fre­quented his company, and hee lead them away, vnto them whom they desired to follow: So easily did hee suffer him-selfe to bee neg­lected.

CHAP. 69.

If thou chance to be pre­sent at any discourse of the precepts of learning, held in an vnlearned audience, be it thy study to bee silent: for it is a dangerous thing to [Page 89] speake any thing with-out due premeditation. If any one call thee an ignorant creature, and thou feelest not thy selfe offended here­with, know that thou hast laide a good foundation for knowledge. For the sheepe doe not bring their fodder to the shepheards, and shew them what they haue eaten, but decocting the meate they haue feede vppon, giue the proose hereof in their wooll, and in their milke. Let not therefore the vulgar bee eare-witnesse of thy words, but eye-witnesse of thy workes, which are the effects following the due [Page 90] disgestiō of verbal precepts.

CHAP. 70.

Art thou parsimonious in the keeping of thy bo­dye? then be not proud of it. Doost thou drinke water? let no ordinary occasion make thee affirme so much vnto others. If thou resolue to vnder-take any paines for thine owne benefite, and not for others, doe not pro­claime it before the Gods, but if by chance thou bee greatly a thirst, restraine thy desire by spitting forth the water that thou hast tasted, but when thou hast done, [Page 91] do not tell this to any other.

CHAP. 71.

It is a true marke of vul­gar basenesse for a man to expect neither good nor harme from him-selfe, but all from externall euents. Contrary wise the true note of a Philosopher is to re­pose all his expectation, vp­on him-selfe alone.

CHAP. 72.

These are the tokens of pro­ficience in goodnesse: to re­prehend no man, to praise or dispraise no man, to traduce [Page 92] no man, to be silent in ones owne commendations, tou­ching his place, or know­ledge: to lay the fault vpon ones selfe in all his encom­brances: to contemne those that praise him in his owne heart: to auoide the defence of him-selfe in any repre­hension: to walke like a weake man, softly, and to haue a perpetuall care, that the state hee aymeth at, bee not snatched from him ere hee can attaine it: to in­clude all his desires in him­selfe: to lay his whole dis­like vpon the opposites vn­to our naturall goods: to beare a moderate affect in [Page 93] all things: to neglect his being held a foole, or an ig­norant fellow: and finally, to keepe a guard ouer him­selfe, as ouer a treacherous enemy.

CHAP. 73.

If thou shalt happen to heare any man brag of his faculty in vnderstanding & expounding the writings of Chrysippus, say thus to thy selfe: had not Chrysippus writte obscurely, this fellow had wanted matter to boast of. But what is the ayme of my study? the knowledge of nature, and the following [Page 94] of that knowledge, who shall teach mee then? Chrysippus saith one. Well, to Chrysip­pus I goe. But now cannot I conceiue him. Well, then must I goe seeke an exposi­tour: so then as yet I haue done nothing worth name­ing. But when I haue gotten an expositor, then remai­neth it that I make vse of all his instructions, and there is the matter of most moment. But if I stand onely in admi­ration of his acute expositi­ons, why then what prooue I but a Grammarian in steed of a Philosopher? sauing onely this, that I read Chry­sippus in stead of Homer. [Page 95] Therefore when any one in­treateth me to read Chrysip­pus to him, I am ashamed, because I cannot confirme my doctrine with my deeds.

CHAP. 74.

Be it thy care to obserue all these as decretall lawes, neuer to bee violated, but that repentance must fol­low the transgressor. And what-so euer other men do talke of thee, contemne it, for thou hast not their tongues vnder thy dispo­sing.

CHAP. 75.

How long will it bee ere thou fasten thine holde vpon excellence, & abstain whol­ly from violation of reasons positiue degrees? Thou hast as good rules giuen thee for thy reformation, as could possibly bee prescribed, and thou hast imbraced them: Why then dost thou looke for any more maisters, and deferrest to reduce thy selfe vnto order, vntill some such man appeare: Thou art now past a boy: add maturity en­stileth thee a man. If there­fore thou continue still in [Page 97] thy neglect, adding delaye vnto delay, purpose to pur­pose, and putting of all things vntill to morrowe, will it not bee as appa­rant as the light, that thou shalt neuer profitte any thing, but liue and dye a man of base condition? assure thy selfe it will. Bee wise then, and put thy selfe into the course of a full man, and make that which thou seest to bee good, the perpetuall lawe, and inuio­lable rule of thine actions. And when thou meetest with labour or delight, with honor or with disgrace, then tell thy selfe that now thou [Page 98] art in the Olympike games; that now there is no starting back: and that onely our stay, or encombrance, may either detaine thy progresse long, or destroy it for euer. Thus became Socrates the man that he was, being his owne furtherer in all at­tempts, and following the directions of none but Rea­son. And as for thee, though thou beest not a Socrates, yet oughtest thou to liue as one that intendeth to at­taine to Socrates his per­fection.

CHAP. 76.

The first, and most neces­sary precept in all Philoso­phye, concerneth the vse of their decrees, as in this, of speaking euer-more the truth. The next, dis­poseth of the demonstrati­ons, as in this; why must one speake euer-more true­lye? the third, confirmeth and distinguisheth both the former, as thus; How can this bee a demonstration? what is a demonstration? what is the demonstration here? what i y e consequence? what is the difference? which [Page 100] is the truth? which is the falshood? So that this third place dependeth necessarily vpon the second, and the se­cond vpon the first: But the base, the foundation, and most necessary place of all, is the first. But wee take another course, wee keepe (all of vs) a terrible coyle with the third place, bea­ting our braines wholye about that, whilest the first in the meane space lieth out of all eustome, vnrespected of any man. And therefore wee doe incurre the offence of lying: yet euery one hath the demonstration that one should not lye at his [Page 101] tongues end.

CHAP. 77.

In all our enterprises wee should pray thus: Iupiter thou high and holy God, and thou ô changelesse Fate, direct mee to the end, that your immutable determina­tions haue assigned mee; for I will follow your appoint­ments most cheerefully: and if I would not doe so, I were a villaine, and yet must for­ward vnto what you haue allotted, whether I would or no.

CHAP. 78.

Hee that can adapt his af­fects vnto necessity, here­in performeth a part of wisdome, and is in some sorte priuie to the designes of the deities.

CHAP. 79.

And oh what a wor­thy saying was that third speach of his. Why if it bee GODS pleasure, Crito, GODS pleasure be fullfilled: It is in the power of Anytus and Melitus to kill mee, but to doe mee any [Page 103] hurt, is a thing surmount­ing all their proiects what­so-euer.

The end of Epictetus his Manuall.

The table of Cebes, the Theban Philo­sopher: Containing a prescript method for the well ordering of the life of man.

AS wee were walking in the temple of Saturne, and viewing the diuerse gifts of charitable persons, amongst the rest wee espied a table, hung vp before the doore of the Oratorie, con­tayning many strange, and vncouth resemblances, the meaning whereof wee could not possibly coniecture, for the picture bare neither [Page] the forme of citty, nor of campe, but it consisted of three parkes as it were, or enclosures: one, a large one, and within that, two other, a greater and a lesser. In the greatest enclosure of all, there was a gate, about the which was a great con­course of people drawne: & within, there were a many in the formes of women. In the entrance, there stood the picture of a graue aged man, who seemed to giue some directions to the per▪sons as they entred, much talke had wee about the signification of this potrai­ture, but none could con­ceiue [Page] truely what it should intend. At last, as we were in this doubt, an ancient man that stood by, stept vnto vs, and told vs: Stran­gers (quoth he) it is no won­der if this picture trouble you to vnderstand the true meaning thereof: for there are but fewe of our owne Cittizens that can giue the true interpretati­on hereof as hee that offe­red it, intended. For it was none of this city that gaue it, but a stranger, a worthy man, and a true follower of Pythagoras and Parmeni­des, both in doctrine and conuersation, comming [Page] to this Citty, dedicated both this Temple, and this Table vnto the seruice of GOD Saturne. Did you know the man Sir, quoth I? yes, quoth hee, that I did, and was an auditor of his admired doctrine a long time, for euen in his yonger yeares, his instructions bare great perfection, and lustre: many a time haue I heard him teach the exposition of this table vnto his follow­ers. I beseech you sir, quoth I, if your businesse be not of greater import, to expound the meaning hereof vnto vs, for I assure you, our desires to know it are vehement. [Page] Truly strangers (quoth hee) and my leasure serueth mee to satisfie you, but you must take one caueat with you, more then you are aware off, and that is this: the exposi­tion hereof is attended with much danger. What dan­ger sir, quoth I? Mary this quoth he: if you giue gōod eare vnto the discourse that you shall heare, and fix your memories with a true vn­derstanding, it will crowne you with wisedome and bea­titude: if not, it will plunge you in a boundlesse depth of all dulnesse & misery. For this explanation resembleth the riddle of Sphynx, wher­with [Page] with shee vsed to intrappe poore passengers, he that could vnderstand it, passed safe, but hee that did not was sure to pay for his igno­rance with his life. Euen so is it here. For Ignorance is a Sphynx vnto man. And this obscure picture, con­teyneth a description of all the good and euill that lackeyeth the life of man: As also of all that which is indifferent and pertaketh of neyther. Now if a man con­ceiue not this aright, it will not dispatch him at once, as the Sphynx did those that fell into her clawes: But it will infect his whole [Page] life w t a continual corrosion; and such a torment as those seek, who being condemned & giued, do euery moment expect the hand of the hang­man. But contrarywise, if one apprehend it with a true conceit, Ignorance breaketh his owne necke, and the whole course of his life that vnderstandeth it aright; shal be replenished with perfect beatitude. Marke my words therefore well, and lette them not go in at one eare and out at another. Lord God (quoth I) how haue you inflamed vs with a desire to heare this relation, if all be thus: yes assuredly quoth he [Page] it is euen thus. Proceed sir I beseech you quoth I, for wee bee no negligent audi­tors in a matter of so great hope, or so great hurt vnto the hearers. So the old man lifting vp his staffe, and poin­ting to the picture: See you this incloser, quoth he? Yes very well: why then marke me: This is called LIFE: and the great multitude you see flocke about the gate, are such as are to enter into the the course of this life. And that old man whom ye see with a paper in one hand, & seeming to point out some­thing therein with the other, is called, Lifes GENIVS. [Page] Hee instructeth those that enter, what methode to ob­serue in their course of life, and layeth them downe what they must follow, vp­on perill of their owne de­structions. I pray you what kinde of life (sir) doth hee direct them to follow, said I? or how doth hee will them to proceed? See you not a Throne, quoth hee, neere vnto the gate as the people goe in, and a woman sitting thereon witth a visor on her face, in queint appa­rell, and a cup in her hand? Yes that I doe, quoth I, what is shee? It is IMPOS­TVRE, quoth hee, that sedu­ceth [Page] all the world. What doth she? she drinketh of her owne brewing vnto all men liuing, what drinke is it? It is Error, quoth hee, and Ig­norance: and how then? why when they haue tasted of this cuppe, then enter they, the course of life: Why but tell mee sir, doe all then drinke of Errour? All quoth hee, but some in­deede drinke more, and o­ther some lesse.

And behold, see you not a crue of women at­ttired like whores, there within the gate? yes, sir. Why those are called Opi­nions, Desires, and Pleasures, [Page] and as soone as any come in at the gate, presently these run dancing to them, fall to dalliance with them and so lead them whether they list. Whether lead they them, said I? Some to security, said hee, & some to ruine, by Impostures meanes. Oh worthy sir, how dange­rous a drinke haue you told me of! Nay, when they come first vnto men, quoth hee, they make them promi­ses of all delights, of perpe­tuall security in perfect bea­titude: now the men, being drunke with the Error, and Ignorance that Imposture presented them, cannot [Page] for their liues finde the right way to that good course, but goe wandring about they know not whether, as you see them described in the picture. And you see them that were entred before, goe round about as these wo­men direct them. I doe in­deed, quoth I; but what wo­man is that, that stands vp­on that round stone, seem­ing as though shee were blinde, and carrying a sem­blance of madnesse in her gesture: that same quoth he is FORTVNE, her blindnesse is not single, but accompa­nied with madnesse, and deafenesse. Why what doth [Page] shee there then? Shee wan­ders about, quoth he, taking from one, and giuing to an­other, and by and by taketh that away which shee gaue but euen now, and bestow­eth it vpon a third, with-out all reason or constancie; and therefore her token there speaketh her nature at full. Which is that, quoth I? her standing vpon that round stone. What is the meaning of that? that her gifts are neuer secure nor certaine. For hee that buildeth his trust vpon them, shall bee sure one day to pay deerely for his credulity. What names beare they? They are [Page] called Fooles: How chan­ceth it that some of them weepe, and some laugh? why are they not all in one form? They that laugh and reioice are Fortunes fauourites, and salute her by the title of Prosperous. But they that wring their hands & waile, are such as shee hath depri­ued of that which shee had giuen them before, and they call her Aduerse fortune. What are her giftes then, that they should make the loosers lament, and the re­ceiuers reioyce? Her gifts, are Reputed goods: and what be those? Ritches, Nobility, children, glory, soueraignty, [Page] Empire and such like. And I pray sir, hold you these for good? Of that heereafter, quoth hee: let vs now make an end of the tables exposi­tion. With all mine heart sir. You see now that beeing past that gate, there is ano­ther enclosure, lying higher vppe, and seauen women ac­coutred like curtizans, stan­ding without at the ente­rance. All this I see. Well, one of these is called Incon­tinence, another Luxury, a­nother Auarice, and another, Flattery: & what stand they for there? They watch when Fortune bestoweth any thing vpō any man: how then? then [Page] they reioyce, and embrace him, and flatter him, and intreate him to staye with them, promising him a life, fraught with all the delight that the most vnbounded affect can desire. If any one doe like this, and tarry with them, hee is tickled with false delight, that free ima­gineth his life an heauen, when indeed it is nothing so. For when his vnder­standing r [...]turneth, then hee will soone perceiue that hee hath not eaten at their char­ges, but that they haue eaten vp him, and when they had so done, sent him away with his sound burden of derisio [Page] And now hauing brought al the benefits of fortune vnto nothing, hee must turne drudge to those drabs, suffer all their imperious iniuries, and vndergo all vnseemely offices for their pleasures, as cousenage, sacriledge, trea­chery, the euery, and all the rest of that vngratious bead­roll. And when all those im­pious trades fayle him, then is hee packt ouer into the hands of Punishment. Pu­nishment, which is she? Doe you not perceiue a little grate in the picture, behinde those women, and within that, as it were an obscure dungeon? Yes. And a great [Page] many women all in tattred ragges, and forlorne shapes? I see them also Why that same that holdeth the scourge, is called Punish­ment: shee that leaneth her head vppon her knee, is Sadnesse. Shee that teareth her hayre, hight Sorrow. There standes one also behinde them, all deformed, meager, and naked, and a woman with him, bearing the same figure of leane deformity. Who bee they? The mans name, quoth he, is Anguish, and the womans Desperation: vnto these is the ruined man passed ouer, and confined to liue in dolefull extremitie. [Page] From thence they driue him farther, into the Iayle of In­felicity, and there shall his captiuity be endlesse vnlesse Repentance bee his baile. Why, what can she do? Ma­ry shee can deliuer him out of this huge deluge of mise­ries, and bring him acquain­ted with another Opinion, and another Desire, who will guide him vnto the pal­lace of True Instruction: and will also proferre to conduct him vnto False Instruction. And how then, quoth I? If hee embrace that Opinion that giueth him directions in the way of True vnder­standing hee shalbe thereby [Page] purified, and reformed, and runne the rest of his liues course in the plentitude of perfectiō, beyond the reach of all future calamity: other­wise, if he do not so, False in­struction will subuert him with a new deceipt. O God (said I) how dangerous is this last difference! But what shape hath this same False Instruction? Behold yon­der other enclosure, saith he. So I doe sir. At the portall thereof sitteth a woman in neate and seemly habite: the vulgar and the vainer sorte call her Instruction, whereas indeed hir true name is false instruction. Now they that [Page] meane to passe vnto true In­struction? Do all come first vnto this woman. Why is there no other way then this vnto true Instruction? Yes that there is. Who are they then that walke about with­in that inclosure? They are the followers of false Instruc­tion, imagining in themselues (but al too erroneously) that they inioy the company of true instruction. And what are their professions? Some of them are Poets, some Ora­tors, some Logitians, some Musitians, Arithmetique, Geometry, Astrology, Phy­losophy, Criticisme, and all other professions haue bast­ards [Page] within this ring: nay here are prosessed voluptu­aries also. But what women are those that conuerse with them in the habites of those former, amongst whome you reckoned Incontinence and her fellowes? They are the self-same. What, do they come hether also? That they doe, but not so ordinarily as else-where, into the first en­closure. And do the Opinions come thus far also. Yes veri­ly doe they: for the drinke that Imposture giueth these, euen at first, is not yet out of their heads, they doe as yet smell of the dregs of Er­ror and Ignorance: nor shall [Page] they euer be quitte of their Opinions, or their other vices vntill they renounce the cō ­pany of False Instruction, and take them-selues to the true course, & taking the potion that is called Errors purgatiō, thereby vomit vp all y e euils that offended their mindes, as their Opinions, their Igno­rance, and all their other en­ormities: for so shall their consciences be perfectly cu­red. But as long as they re­maine with false Instruction, they shall neuer be through­ly sound, nor shall their dis­ciplines helpe them away with any one incouenience. Which is the way then that [Page] leadeth vnto true instruction. Why look you here, see you this high place that seemes as desart and vnhabited. Well sir, I see it. Then you see that little gate, and the way there before the gate, which looks as if it were but little vsed, lying in such a steepe discent of that craggy rock. That I see also: you see more-ouer that hill there, that is enuironed on eyther side with inaccessible cliffes, hauing onely one narrow path whereby to ascend it: True sir. That same path, is all the way wee haue to true Instruction. Truly sir mee thinketh it is almost impos­sible [Page] to get vp it. You marke that steepe rock then by that other hill. So I doe. And see you not two lusty and come­ly Viragoes standing thervp­pon, & reaching forth their hands in manner of a cheer­full inuitation. I see them well, but how call you their names? One of them hight Continency, and the other Tollerance: and they are sist­ers. VVhy doe they reach forth their hands? They in­courage the trauelers that come that way, to bee of good cheere, and to de­fie desperation the daugh­ter of sluggishnesse; assu­ring them, that after a [Page] little toile, the whole residue of their life shalbe topt with happy tranquillity, and that if they will climbe but a lit­tle, all the way after shall bee most plaine and easie. But when they come to the rock how shal they doe to ascend? I see no meane they haue to mount so steep a cliffe. True, but the two sisters do come downe them-selues from the toppe, and lending them their handes, pull them vppe by degrees. After they are gotten vp a little way, they bidde them rest a little, and then they bring Fortitude & Confidence vnto them, and passe their wordes to bring [Page] them to the presence of True Instruction, shewing them how plaine and how plea­sant the tract is, now that they haue surmounted the former difficulty, and how cleare it is from all cragges and incombrances, as you see in the Table. So indeed it seemes. And see you not that wood, and before it, as it were a pleasant launde, or meade? Al full of light & de­light? Right: and in the midst therof another enclosure w t a gate vnto it? There is so: but how cal you that enclosure? mary it is called y e habitation of the blessed, for in that place are al the vertues resident w t [Page] beatitude. Truly it lookes like a delightfull abode. You see then that goodly matron that stands by the gate, with a constant eie of a midle age, rather inclining to fiftie, in a plaine and vngarnished ha­bite, and standing vppon a stone not round but cubike, and directly square? Shee hath two other women also neare her that seem to be hir daughters. So they do. The mid most of these three is cal­led Instruction ▪ she of the one hand, Truth, and she on the other, Perswasion. But why doth Instruction stand vp­pon a square stone? To shewe that the path which [Page] leadeth vnto her is faire and firme: and that her gifts doe blesse the receiuer with fruits of security. What doth shee giue? She giueth Confidence, Security, & Acquittance from troubles. And what vse of those? By these man vnder­standeth that his life is now to continue voide of all per­turbations. Oh glorious, oh gratious gifts quoth I! but why doth she stand without the enclosure? to cure the trauellers, & giue them her drink before they enter, and then to admit them passage in, vnto the vertues. How is this good sir quoth I? In truth I conceiue you [Page] not. You shall, quoth hee. It is heere, as if a person greatly diseased should be­take his body to the cure of the Phisitian: now hee, first of all, purgeth away the causes, and nutriment of the malady, and then corrobo­rates the vitalls, and finally confirmeth the body in per­fect soundnesse. Now if the person had contemned the counsels of Phisicke, hee had been deseruedly giuen ouer to the tyranny of his disease. This I conceiue, quoth I. Well, euen thus quoth hee, do men approach this stati­on of Instruction, which as soone as they arriue at, pre­sently [Page] shee cureth them, gi­uen her owne receipt vnto them which purgeth out all their ingulphed euills, as by vomit or eiection. What are the euils they cast vp. Error and Ignorance, both which they drunke from the hand of Imposture, Arrogance also, Auarice, Desire, Incontinence, Anger, and all the poy­sons which they swallowed downe while they were in the first enclosure. And whether doth shee send them hauing purged them? Shee letteth them in vn­to Knowledge and the o­ther vertues. Which bee they? Why see you not a [Page] company of faire & modest matrons there within the gate, amongst whome there is not one that seemeth painted, or curiously ador­ned, as they before were all? I see them: what are their names? The fore-most of them, hight knowledge, the rest are her sisters, called by the names of Fortitude, Ius­tice, Integrity of life, Tempe­rance, Modesty, Liberality, Continency, & ( Clemency. Oh goodly consort! quoth I. How great is humane hope? your hopes quoth he shalbe complete, if you conceiue this relation aright, and ap­ply it vnto your courses [Page] in the world. Sir, assure your selfe, quoth I, wee will omitte no paines here­in. Then shall your endes bee crowned with security, quoth hee. But whether doe these Vertues lead the man that enters? Vnto their mother. What is shee? Her name is BEATITVDE. Of what quality is she? See you not a way that ascendeth that height there, whereon the tower of the three en­closures is founded? Behold there a faire and flourishing matrone, enthroned in state, at the portch of the sayd tower in goodly raiment, yet vntaxable of profusenesse, [Page] with a crown of roses about her beauteous temples. You say right sir, what is she? she is the person, that is called Beatitude. And when one commeth to her, what doth shee? Shee crowneth him (quoth he) with delight ad­ioyned vnto all the other vertues, as they are crowned that are victors in dange­rous conflicts: what conflicts hath he bin in, said I? In ma­ny sore ones, quoth hee: and hath conquered many a sa­uage beast that wounded him pitifully, & ouerthrew him often: yet brought he al their fury vnder, and now is become his owne man, ma­king [Page] those sauages serue him now, as hee was forced to stoope to them before: What beasts are they you speake of, sir? I would faine know that. I speake of Ig­norance and Error, first: are not they true beasts? yes, and cruel ones too, quoth I. And then, quoth he I speak of Sorrovv, Anguish, Aua­rice, Intemperance, and the whole Lernean fen of vici­ous habits. All these hath he now at command, whereas before they cōmanded him. O renowned victory, quoth I, and memorably perfor­med! but I pray sir tell me this, what force is there [Page] in the crowne shee giueth him? A blessed force (young man) there is in that crown. He whose browes it encir­cleth, shall be really blessed, and lift vp beyond the pitch of misery: nor shall his blisse relye vppon others, but bee fully established in him-self. Oh what a conquest is there! But what doth hee when he hath this crowne? whether goeth he then? Then the ver­tues bring him backe the same way that he came, and shewe him those that liue there beneath, how misera­ble and how mischieuous their estate is, and how they dash the ship of their life a­gainst [Page] the rocks, keeping no course but rouing at ran­dome without all care or compasse: and how they are ledde away to bondage by their foes, some by Inconti­nence, som by Arrogance, som by Auarice, some by Vainglo­ry, some by one mean of ru­ine & some by another. And out of these giues of perditi­on they haue no meanes in the world to redeeme them­selues, but there they lye in fetters of perturbation, all their liues long. The reason hereof is, they haue forgot­tē the instruction that Lifes Genius gaue them at their in­gresse, and so cannot light [Page] of the true course of life. In truth you say well, but why should the Vertues goe to shew him the place and perills that hee had already passed? He tell you why. At his former passage of them, hee conceiued not the halfe of their maleuo­lence, nor vnderstood the actions that were done there, almost any thing: but was altogether enui [...]oned with doubts, because of the drinke of Error & Ignorance which hee had tasted, which made him imagine that for good, which had no good­nesse in it, and so in like ma­ner of euill. Whereby hee [Page] was thrust into the course of corruption aswell as the rest were. But now that he hath attained the knowledge of conueniences, hee both be­holdeth the misery of o­thers, and enioyeth felicity himselfe. But when hee hath obserued the misfortunes of these men, what doth hee then? or whether goeth he? faith euen whether hee lift himselfe. For he is as secure in euery place as if hee were in the caue of Corycum: and let him liue were hee will, hee shall liue in honesty and free from all, euen the least encombrance. All men shalbe as glad of his [Page] company as the sicke person is of the Phisitians why but shall he neuer more stand in feare of those beasts you spoke of? shall they haue no more power to touch him? no, not a iot. Hee shall stand at defiance with Sor­row, Trouble, Incontinence, Auarice, Need, and all other extreames whatsoeuer: hee shall check and curbe them now as he pleaseth, who before plagued him worse then the stings of adders, and as the serpents that kill all other things with their poyson, medle not with the viper, because his owne ve­nime is an Amulet against all [Page] theirs: so likewise shall no euill approach this perfect man, because in himselfe hee hath a preseruatiue a­gainst all their infecti­ons. All this is well, quoth I: but I pray you sir tell mee this: I see a great com­pany descending the hill as it were, some with crownes on their heads, seem­ing to exult and reioyce, and others without crownes looking like despayring men, with their heads and legges all bruised, and diuers women seeme to detaine them: what are these? They that weare crownes, are the adopted sons of instruction, [Page] and reioyce at their adopti­on. The other, are some of them reiected by her, and so fallne into miserable estate: others, beeing weakened by Sloath, when they had gotten vp as farre as Tolerance, tur­ned back againe, and so sell a wandring they knew not whether. But what are the women that follow them? There is Sorrowe, Trouble, Desperation, Ignominy, and Ignorance. Why then belike all the mischieues that may bee, doe follow them at the heeles. So they do, and when they come back in [...]o the first inclosure, vnto Luxury, and Incontinence, they lay all the [Page] blame on them-selues, and fall a cursing Instruction, and al that are in the way to her, as wretches, & vnfortunate fooles, that leaue the tract that these now do tread, and the pleasures of the first en­closure, to goe seeke had I wist and hunt out a course of such vnhappinesse, refus­ing to stay and share with them in their delightfull goods. And what are their goods? Shall I tell you in a word? Luxury and Inconti­nence. For like vnto beasts, they are all for the belly, and imagine the filling of that the full fruite of all their expected good.

[Page]But what call you the o­ther women that come downe there, laughing and making semblance of mirth? They are Opinions: they car­ry men vppe vnto Instuc­tion, and when they haue done, come backe, and tell the rest how gratiously those they presented were receiued, and how they are now in state of blessednesse. Why but doe these Opini­ons goe in vnto the vertues? Oh no: it is altogether vn­lawfull for Opinion to come in the sight of knowledge, they doe onely deliuer the men ouer vnto Instruction, whom shee receiuing, they [Page] goe their waies to fetch more, as shippes do, that ha­uing vnladed their fraught make presently forth for a new voiage, taking in o­ther commodities. In truth sir, your comparison is passing good, quoth I but you told vs not yet what it is that Liues Ge­nius sayth vnto those that are to enter the course of life. Hee biddeth them bee of good cheere, quoth hee: and bee you of good cheere also, for I will not keepe a letter of the exposi­tion frō you: we thanke you most humbly sir, sayd we all. Then hee, reaching forth [Page] his staffe againe, pointed vp, saying, see you that blind woman vpon the round stone there, whom euen now I told you hight For­tune? Yes. The Genius bids them, neuer to giue cre­dence vnto her, neuer to imagine any solidity in her bounties, neuer to hold her gifts as your proper goods: for that when shee list, shee will take them from one, & bestow them on another, magure all contradiction, it is her ordinarye practise. And therefore hee warneth them, not to delight in her beneuolence, nor to greeue at her frowardnesse: Neuer [Page] to bee conquered either by her curstnesse or her cure­sies, to giue her neither prai­ses nor curses, seeing shee doth nothing with discreti­on, but hurleth all about at six and seauen, as I told you already. Therefore doth this Genius bid vs neuer wonder at her exploits, nor play the badde borrowers to count another mans mony our owne, and to bee offended, and hold our selfe iniured, if it be demanded againe: for­getting that our credite lent vs it, vpon condition to haue it restored without contention.

Thus (saith this Genius) must [Page] we stand affected to the be­nefits of fortune, and to re­member well, that it is one of her old trickes to giue, and take againe, and then to giue one farre more, and presently to take away all euery iot, both what shee gaue last, and what she left before. He bids vs ther­fore take hir gifts, & hauing them, make hast with them to that firme, and constant kinde of bounty: VVhich is that? That which Instruc­tion giueth to those that come safe to her Tow­er to aske it. And what giueth shee? See giueth the True knowledge of profi­table [Page] thinges, a guift of vn­changeable goodnesse and security. To her therfore hee wils them all to make hast, and when they come to Luxury, and Incontinence, the two women afore-named, to passe by them speedily, and stoppe the eares vnto their inueyg [...]ed perswasions, and so to hasten on vntill they come vnto False Instruction. There hee aduiseth them to make a little stay, and take what they like of her for their Viaticum, the rest of their iourney. And then to scowre away with all speede vnto the Pal­lace of True Instruction. [Page] This is the charge that the Genius of life layeth vp­pon all that are vppon en­terance into the first en­closure: Hee that eyther refuseth it, or misaply­eth it, comes home by vn­happinesse and ruine. This mine honest friendes is the exposition of this Table: If you would bee further satisfied in any thing else, propound it, and I will re­solue you. Gramercy, cur­teous sir. I pray you then what is it that their Geni­us wisheth them to take at the station of False In­ctruction? Such things as they shall neede. And [Page] what bee those? Letters, Languages and Disciplines which Plato called the bri­dles of youth, keeping them out of worse imploy­ments.

Must hee that will passe to True Instruction needes take these heere, or may hee lette them alone if hee please? Hee need not vnlesse hee list: They are conuenient, but wholy impertinent to ver­tue.

No? are they not neces­sary for the bettering of our vnderstandings? Yes, but our goodnesse may haue increase without [Page] them, yet are they not alto­gether vn-vsefull. For we may heare a doctrine reade by another, and yet it were not amisse if wee could reade it in the lang­uage our selues, then wee benefit by his reading ne­uerthelesse: so that one may bee without these dis­ciplines, well enough. I but are not these that vn­derstand the artes of a bet­ter hability to haue good­nesse infused into them, then others that want those disciplines? No, how should that bee, quoth hee, when they are as badly con­ceited of the true nature of [Page] good and euill, and as black with the pitchy touch of vitiousnesse, as others that vnderstand nothing? It is an easiy thing for one to bee a deepe scholler, and a mais­ter of all the disciplines, and yet bee as prone to drun­kenesse, intemperance, ava­rice, iniury, treachery, yea and madnesse, as he that ne­uer sawe the in-side of a schoole-house. There are plenty of those examples, wee neede not goe farre to fetch them. And ther­fore what prerogatiue hath learning in the re­formation of a mans ex­orbitances? Truely none [Page] quoth I, if things goe thus. But why then are those schollers in the second enclosure, as nearer neigh­bours to true Instruction then the rest?

Ablasse, saith hee, what good gette they by that; When wee see often that diuers passe out of the first enclosure, from Incon­tinence and the other vi­ces, vnto true Instruction without once resting a­mongst those Disciplinari­ans? What man then can avouch their estate bet­ter because of their place? They are either more dull, or more idle then [Page] others? Why sayd I, how is that? Because, saith hee, though those of the se­cond enclosure were cleare from all faults else, yet this alone stickes by them for euer, To professe to know that, Whereof they are vtterly ignorant: which conceite of themselues, maketh them farre more slacke in the quest of true Instruction.

Againe, doe you not see how the Opinions come floc­king out of the first enclosure vnto them? These are the causes why their estate is not an haire bet­ter then the others, vnless [...] [Page] Repentance and they fall once acquainted, and that they bee veryly perswaded that they dwell not with True Instruction, but with her counterfeit, which draw­eth them into errors, and so stoppeth all the meanes of their reformation and pas­sage to security. Where­fore strangers, quoth hee, vnlesse you take this course, and beate this discourse of mine ouer and ouer, vntill you haue gotten the habite thereof (to which ende you must continue an of­ten reuolution thereof in your meditation, and make it your thoughts principall [Page] practise) you shall neuer make vse of any word that you haue heard: Sir, wee will doe our best endeuours. But I pray resolue vs this: Why are not those things worthy the name of goods which Fortune giueth vnto mans vse? as life, health, ritches, honours, children, conquests, and such other her bounties: and why are not their contraries euills? this assertiō seemeth strange and incredible vnto vs. Wel quoth hee, be sure then that you answer directly vnto that I shall demand. I will, quoth I: whether is it good for him that is an euill liuer, [Page] to liue, at all or no. It is not good I thinke (quoth I) for him to liue, but rather euil. How then can life (saith he) bee good at all, if it bee euill for him? Because (quoth I) as to the badde liuer, life is badde, so to the good liuer, life is good. So then, you hold life both good and badde. That I doe sayd I. O beware of an absurdity, (quoth hee.) It is impossible for one thing to bee good and e­uill. For so it should bee both profitable and hurt­full, and likewise alwaies, both to bee affected and auoyded, and that both at [Page] one time. This is an absur­dity indeed, quoth I. But if hee that liueth badly, haue a badnesse by liuing so, how can life but bee badde vnto that man? I but quoth hee, it is one thing to liue, and another to liue badly. That is true quoth I. So then life in it selfe is not bad. For if it were so, it would bee so to the best liues as well as the worst: For all should haue a life that should be a badnes in itself. You say true. VVell then life beeing communicated, both to the good liues & the euil, to liue, of it selfe, is nei­ther good nor euill, no more [Page] then cutting or burning is, both which are good in some diseases, but hurtfull vnto all sound bodies. So is this life: and therefore pro­pose this to yourselfe: whe­ther had you rather liue badly, or die honourably? The latter should be my choyce, quoth I. So then, quoth he, death in it selfe is no badde thing belike: for it is often times to bee preferred be­fore life. Most true. Well then, sicknes & health, haue one and the same respect. For occasion may so fal out, that it befitteth not the sicke man to recouer. It may be so. Good, waigh ritches [Page] then in the same ballance. Suppose that which is often seene: A man hath great wealth, and applyeth it to no good vse: Many such there are. Do not his ritches then helpe his beatitude any way? I think not, because of his own badnes. VVhy then very well, it is not wealth, but wise Instruction that ma­keth a man happy. Surely so it seemes. How then can ritches be good, when they haue no power to better their possessors? They can­not indeed. VVel, it is befit­ting then that some should not bee rich at all, because they are ignorant of the true [Page] vse of ritches. Nay I am of your mind in that. How then can that be any way pertai­ning to goodnesse, which must bee often times with­held from the vse of diuers persons, so that he y t can vse wealth, as wealth should be vsed, may liue well, and hee that cannot must needes breake downe his owne qui­et? you strike on truth in all things, sir. Lastly (quoth he) it is the esteeme of those for goods, or the contempt of them as euils, that molesteth and offendeth the cogitati­ons of men, prizing them as thinges of such excellent worth, and the onely con­ducts [Page] vnto the Court of hap­pinesse and this maketh thē vndergo all actions, euen of how wicked a front soeuer, onely for the attaynment of these glosses. These acci­dents attend on all such ad­mirers of externall shewes, because theirdull vnderstan­dings can no way penetrate into the natures of thinges truly good, they are so gra­ueled in the quick-sands of erroneous Ignorance.

The end of Cebes his Table.

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