VARRO reporteth, that they whiche did sacrifize to Hercules, vsed continually be­fore they began their Ceremonies, to driue their dogs out of the citie. And I think it necessary, before I set downe the discour­ses of Phialo, as the fruite of my trauell sacrificed heere vnto skilful Readers, to whippe out those Doggs, which haue barked more at mee for writinge the Schoole of Abuse, then Cerberus did at Hercules for descending to Hell; and haue laboured with the venom of their teeth to wound me deeper, then that curst Curre, which was the death of Licinius, and the cause of a battaile, wherein Her­cules lost his brother Iphiclus. It is not long since, A Libell ca [...] out against the Schoole of abuse. a friend of mine presented me with straunge newes out of Affrick, re­questing me earnestly to shape them an answere. After I had vnfolded the Pa­per, and found nothing within but guttes and garbage, neither heart nor liuer, nor [Page] anye good intrayles, I called too minde the replie that Apelles made to a course Painter, which brought him a coūterfait of his own drawing, requesting his iudg­ment in the work; Truely, quoth Apelles, hadst thou not tolde me it had bin thine, at the first blush I would haue iudged it to bee doone in haste. And had not the writer himself, which sēt these newes in­to England, reuealed his name to some of his friends by whō I hearde it, I would haue iudged such a Daw to bee hatcht in Barbary, & the tydinges that came, to be scribled in [...]ost. Cōmodus the Emperor cōming to Rome, in the face of the whole senate, begā w ^t a graue coūtenance to de­clame: When euery man loked for some weighty matter touching the gouernmēt of the cōmon wealth, he fell to trifling; & told thē, that riding abroad one day with his father, who at that time was cast frō his horse, himself alighted & holy him out of the myre. This Doctour of Affrike w ^t a straunge kinde of style begins to write thus: To his frinds the Plaiers, & to [...] rare, at the first like a perfect Orator, he sittes down in his study, lookes about for his bookes, takes pen in his hand, & as [Page 2] manerly as he can, breathes out this ora­cle from the threefootedstoole of Pythia: Affrica semper aliquid apportat noui, There is euer a new knack in a knaues hood, or some kind of mōster to be sene in Affrik. To which principle whē he thin­keth he hath giuen sufficient light, by the ioyning togither of sundry beastes, his frends gaping for some strange cōceit to bring to the stage, finde him to dally: for with a tale of a tub, he slippeth down presently into a dirtie comparison of a dutch Mule & an english mare, that ingendred an Asse, & to cast his foale quickly (with a deuoute prayer to God, to send players few asses, & many auditors) he growes to conclusion, behauing himself in his lear­ned Paraphrase like Megabizus, who came into Apelles shop & began to talk of his shadows, til the painter reproued him in this maner: Hadst thou kepte silence O Megabizus, I woulde haue reueren­ced thee for thy gay coate; now the worst boy that grindeth my coulors wil laugh thee to scorne. And I, if this Geogra­pher had stayed his pen within the com­passe of Affrike, would haue read him w ^t patiēce for the coūtries sake, but now the [Page] least childe which is able to temper his ynke, wil giue him a floute. If Players get no better Atturnie to pleade their case, I wil holde mee contented where the Hardest is harde, too take Otes of yl debters in parte of payment.

Touching the frutefulnes of his Mule, which is not agreeable vnto kinde, be­cause the coldenesse of seede killes the power of ingendering, I coulde find him sporte by Philosophie, if I were dispo­sed to play with his nose, or to caste any thinge but draffe to Swine. But I intende not to aunswere him, lest I kick with Cresiphon, when my Mule win­ [...]eth. As long as hee rayles, he profites not; as long as hee dotes, hee hurtes not; Let him say what he wil, he shall not cut me; Let him write what he please, he shal not kill me; and fauour him that list, they shall not greeue me; it is but kinde for a Cocke heade, to breede a Combe; and a rashe witte, a rawe deuise. Though the Mariner haue skill to gouerne his vessel, it lyeth not in his cunning to calme the seas: though the coūtriman know how to graffe an ympe, his toile wil not alter the caste of the Crab: Though my selfe haue [Page 3] learned to rule mine owne talke, I can not snaffle the tounge of a Carper. Not­withstanding the Sayler commeth safe­ly to harbour, though he be shaken: The husbandman gathereth much pleasaunt fruite, though his Wylding bee sower: And I haue no doubte I shall please the wise, though the malicious turne vpp their gall. The same Solomon which forbiddes vs to aunsweare a foole in his follie, lest we liken our selues vnto him, chargeth vs sharpely to shewe him his faulte, lest he seeme wise in his owne con­ceite. Therefore I haue neither replyed to the writer of this Libel for loosing my time, nor let him go scotfree for making him proude, but poynted to the strawe where the Padd lurkes, that euery man at a glimse, might discry the beaste, and repaire to Phialo.

To deliuer you the Historie as faith­fully as I learned it, you shall first vnder­stand that Phialo a young Gentleman, & a younger brother, borne in Ferara, and brought vp in Sienna, studyed there in the Vniuersitie to win that by learning, which he wanted in liuing: But Fortune in the end so knit her browes, & dischar­ged [Page] her shot at the face of him, that his Father dyed, leauing his portion in the handes of an Abbot in Ferara, of whome I dare neither speake as I shoulde, nor complaine as I would, nor cry out as the cause it selfe requires. For, withholding that which he ought to distribute, he stop­ped the conduit and cut of the pipes, that conueighed such liquor to Phialo as was necessary. Whervpō the poore gentelmā perceiuing himself in danger of death, be­cause he was dry; & vnable to striue with the mightie, because he was weake; re­mooued himselfe to a moister soyle, & lea­uing Sienna, came vnto Venice, where after the death of his father, he withered as fast, as he bloomed before in the time of his life. And Philotimo a noble gen­tleman of a quick wit and a ripe iudge­ment, which euer delighted in the company of Phialo, was pluckte from the Vni­uersitie, and sent to Ferara, to serue in the Court, not long before the death of Phia­loes father, where though he had cast his Philosophers hed, and seemed so bathed in Heraclitius floode, that he was almost changed to an other nature, yet in all his ruffe shewing the sparks of a noble mind [Page 4] the higher he sat, the lower he looked, the farther he saw him self from Sienna, the more hee renewed the remembraunce of Phialo; And forgetting no curtesie in the Courte, enquired so longe for his olde friende, that hearing at the laste bothe of the vntymely decease of the father from life, and the vnfortunate departure of the Sonne from his Booke; with dropping eyes distilled into teares, and a sorrowfull hearte resolued into bloode, hee withdrewe him selfe presently from the Courte, and posted to Venice as fast as hee coulde. Beeing entred the Ci­tie, and very desirous too seeke out his friende, suddainly he espyed Phialo com­ming from the Rialto with a Merchant of Englande: and stepping too them both with many courtly greetings broke of their talke. Phialo reioycing more in his olde friend, whose affection he knew; than in his new acquaintance, whome he neuer tryed, with a Vibaccio tooke his leaue of the Merchaunt, and brought Philotimo to his lodginge. When they were entred, both sett, and the dore shut, Philotimo, with a sterne looke, and a troubled minde beganne thus.

[Page] They which are sicke of a burning fe­uer, tosse and turne from side, to side, to seeke rest: but in the ende they increase the fitte and open a gapp to their owne perill. I stand in doute Phialo whither I might rightly compare thee to those that are vexed with this disease, be­cause that remoouing thy studyes and chaunging thy pastute, whilst thou desi­rest to be euery where, thou art no where; & like a graffe planted in many grounds, wilte become baraine. Hath thy father wasted his treasure on thee in Sienna, that thou shouldest mispend thy time in Venice? Haue thy friends hoped so long for a plentifull haruest, that they shoulde he constrayned to gather weedes? Haue I sounded the Trumpet with thy com­mendations, to begin this vaine skirmish with a false Alarme? Hast thou from thy youth bin trayned vp in learning, y ^t after thou hast giuen a good soape to the paile, thou shouldst kick it downe curstly w ^t thy beeles? Is this the ende of our trauell? the fruite of thy studie? Oh, howe much better had it beene for thee neuer to haue ripened, then so soone to haue rotted? I perceiue nowe that all is not Golde in [Page 5] thee which glistereth, euery hooked nose doeth not argue a Conqueror; nor euery fine wit a stated Philosopher. Thou ma­kest thy selfe but an emptie Barrel, yeel­dinge to the eares of thy friendes a sharpe sound, & nothing else. Thou hast promised much, and performed little: thou saidst thou wouldest bury thy selfe in Philoso­phy, but thou liuest here in Venice a col­ledge of Curtezans. Orat. pro Caelio. Tully thinketh it an inuincible Bulwarke and sufficiente purgation for M. Caelius, that hee coulde haue no acquaintance w ^t wicked Clodia, because he was giuen to his booke, & had made a learned Oration in the Senate house, which could not be doone without great studie. And where the minde is so busied, all sportes are tedious, all de­lightes irkesome, all company lothsome: As if he should say: He that loyters not, loues not; he that loues not, is no compa­nion for Clodia, Therefore to gather an argument of the contrary, because thou spendest thy time in this Towne, I may wel cōclude that it is impossible for the [...] to profite in Learning, which seekest to be fostred in such a stewes. Venus her self when she passed Eurota, caste away her [Page] Combe and her brush, her Glasse & her Liepot, and tooke vp a Iauelin. And if thou desire to passe by Eurota, or growe vp in knowledge, shake of this Citie as Venus dregges; take vp thy tooles and returne to Sienna; settle thy selfe and slip no more; A rowling stone gathers no mosse, & a running hed wil neuer thriue.

Phialo throughly netteled with this strange kinde of greeting, scratcht many times where it ytched not, and bustlinge very often with profers to speak, stopped sudenly; not vnlike to a yong colte, which at the first prick plungeth as though hee felt no ground, but when he hath cham­ped a while on the bit, and chafed a little in his owne greace; stands still, & begins to find a better pace. Thus Phialo vexed with the fresh remēbrance of a new grief, angry with Philotimo for his tauntes, yet considering at laste to what ende hee spoke, when hee had sufficiently chewed his cudde, and sweate as he sat, recoue­red him selfe with this reply.

Signior Philotimo, your selfe is as welcome to me in Venice, as your words are vnwelcome to mine eares. You ad­monish me as a friend, and dutie [...]indeth [Page 6] me to thank you for your good wil: Ne­uerthelesse, sith you make your Plaister so sharp, and apply it to my wound in an ill time, for the one I cannot but accuse you of rashnes; for the other I am forst to reproue you of ignorance; meaning hence forth to take you as I find, which is other wise then I thought, a bad Apothecarie, and a worse Phisition. Plutarch forbid­deth you to rebuke your friende either in mirth or in miserie: in mirth; because it straiteneth the senses, choketh the heart, stops the passage of the spirits, and ouer­casteth the mind, with a cloude of sorow. In misery; because we haue more neede to be restored, thā brought low; to be streng­thened, than weakened; to be comforted, than corrected; to be raysed vp, than hur­led downe. When the flesh chafes, the wound prickes; the sore shootes, when the body shakes; the disease growes, when the mind greeues. Therfore Crates the phi­losopher which was dogged of nature, & in al his rebukes as ouerthwart, as Diogenes, taunting bitterly; when he sawe Demetrius Phalereus in his banishment liue porely at Thebes; softned his speach, gaue him faire words, and friendly com­fort [Page] smoothly disputing of the fruites of exile, and approouing by reason that there could be no wretchednes in such a life. Insomuch that Demetrius who fea­ring at the first to be vpbraided, and loo­king for a peale that should not like him, woulde haue shunned his company, con­trarye too his expectation finding suche sweetnesse in his talke, reioyced greatly in his conference, and began to be sorye, that he met him no sooner. But Euctus and Eulaeus, the friendes of Persa, when they saw him failed by the Romans, and so ouerthrowne in the battaile at Pydna, that he was forced to turne his backe, ra­ted & checked him in the middest of his sorrowes, till sobbing at the hearte, for his yll fortune; and mooued to wrath, by the bitternesse of their rebukes; as one o­uerwhelmed with a double griefe, he slew thē both. And trust me Philotimo mour­ning here solitary for my fall, seeing my selfe teinted, where I shoulde bee anoyn­ted; burnt, where I shoulde be balmed; cutte, where I should be closed; I stand almost at vtter defiance with thy freend­shippe, and am presently ready as a man desperate, little esteeming which end go­eth [Page 7] forward, to abandon thy company, to forsake Venice, to forsweare my country, to sette the hares heade to the goose gyb­blettes, and al that I haue at a mumme chaunce. Better hadde it here for Euctus and Eulaeus by the example of Cra­tes to geue heauie Persa a lenitiue in his ouerthrowe, to asswage his griefe; then a sharpe corosiue, to augment his paine: And a friendlier touch had it ben of thee, perceiuing mee drounde in mine owne teares, to streatch foorth thy handes, too saue mee halfe deade; then too thrust out thy tongue, to kill me quicke. Had they tolde Persa, that Fortune ruleth in feates of armes, and victorie in warre is euer vncertayne, that Phillip, at one pushe lost all Macedon; Antiochus, Asia; the Carthaginians, Lybia; that Iulius Cae­sar when hee had subdued all Fraunce, made a conqueste of Englande, returned into Italy, and triumphed in Rome, was s [...]ayne in the Senate house among his freendes; that Fortune is paynted with feete and winges, because shee comes running, and departes slying, that this dayes glory was but a proppe to the Ro­manes, to set them higher, that too mor­rowe, [...] [Page] [...] [Page 7] [Page] their fal might be the greater; they had incouraged Persa too renue the bat­tayle, and kepte themselues harmelesse. And I am perswaded that if thou hadst played the good Nurse, which seing her childe catche a knocke, steppes to it pre­sently, not with threatninges, nor roddes, nor rebukes, but with gentle intreatie takes it vppe; dandles it often in her lappe; and with many a sweete songe, rather giuing it a soft [...]eate, then a harde stripe, lulles it a sleepe to ease the paine; thou hadst cured my sorrowe, quenched mine anger, and woone me for euer to be thine. Thou little considerest whether I fell wantonly by mine owne folly, or was sudainly ouerturned by vnruly lubbers; thou cōdemnest my leuitie not regarding my necessitie; thou hast forgotten that he is forced to go whom the deuil driues; & that neede maketh euery man to trot. If you haue not hearde of Chrysogono (I meane not him which thrust Sextus Ros­cius out of his farmes in Ameria; but him which defeated mee of my liuing in Sienna, and droue thy poore Phialo out of Hetruria) let this be sufficient to stopp [Page 8] thy mouth that it is hee, whiche beeing an Abbote in Ferara, cleane contrary too his profession, because he is holy; and to the othe hee tooke at the death of my fa­ther, who trusted him farther then hee de­serued; enioyeth that by force whiche is none of his: it is hee which shoulde ra­rather helpe, then hurte; rather giue, than take; rather feede then famish; rather clothe the naked, then strip them of all to the bare bones: It is he, which stuffing his bagges with the frutes of Learning, alloweth not Philosophers to touche money; but with a full [...]orge commends fasting: To be shorte, Philo­lotimo it is euen hee, which keepes that back that shoulde bee my maintenaunce in Sienna; yet art thou so franticke, to bid mee returne thyther againe in haste, and followe my studie, as if thou shoul­dest charge mee to fight, without wea­pons, climbe without ladders, mounte without wings. Hast thou not reade that Ex nihilo nihil fit, Nothing doeth lye in childbed of Nyfles? How wouldest thou then haue me to apply my Booke, when the meane as I tolde thee is taken a­way?

[Page] Philotimo beholding his friende wistly, the more he delighted in his talk, the more he lamēted the losse of his time; and woondring at the pithynesse of his speech, which in al his conference neuer vsed a waste worde, egged him on to a farther discourse in this maner.

I remember Phialo, that Plato giueth hartie thanks to Nature, for making him rather a reasonable creature, then a brute beast; a man, then a woman; an Atheni­en, then a Theban; and chiefely for gi­uing him life in the time of Socrates. Whose example hath humbled me often before God, with duetiful thankes to his diuine maiestie, for fashioning of me to his owne likenesse, giuing me a mind to conceiue, and a toung to speake, when he might haue made me a dumbe beast; for making me rather a man, then a woman that is, a Lord, then a slaue; an Athenien, than a Theban; a Tuscan, rather then a rude Bergamaske; and last of all, for yeel­ding patte of thy studyes to mee, whiche like a young Socrates, applyest all thy knowledge too reforming of manners. Therefore as thou haste already begun, approuing me by strong argumentes, to [Page 9] be both brainsicke and vnskilfull in my proceedings, for dealing so roughly with thee, at such an il time, go forwards, good Phialo, and shewe mee aswell what I ought to follow, in rebuking my freend, as thou hast declared what I shall flye, that through mine owne ignoraunce, I offend no more. I neuer resorted to thee yet since our first acquaintance, but ere I departed, I carried some lessons awaye woorth the noting.

Not so sir (quoth Phialo) It is hard to draw water in a dry soile, or fishe out any skil from an emptie pond. Socrates affir­meth himself to know nothing: & trust me I se no reasō why Plato, which is accom­ted a great Philosopher, and a searcher of wisedome, Socrates able to teach nothing because hee knew nothing. shoulde reioyce so muche to liue in his time, which was not able too teach him any more then he knewe. If he iudge the person more luckie then the man was learned, or thinke it sufficient to vertue, to haue beene a student in those dayes, he little considereth that Alcibia­des and Critias were both Scholers too Socrates, yet the one a Traytour, the o­ther a Tyrant. It is not the place wee are borne in, that maketh vs learned; nor [Page] the name of our mayster that leades vs to vertue.

Thus can I not deuise with my self, Philotimo, what it is that should mooue thee too triumph so much in thine owne conceit, because thou art rather an Athe­nien, then a Theban; a Tuscan, then a Bargamaske, as though all were lear­ned, that came from Athens; or all igno­rant, that dwelt at Thebes; or all Cour­tiers, that are bredde in Tuscanie; or all Carters, that are borne in Bargamaske. But moste of all I woonder howe thou canst possibly sucke any fruite from my studies, which are very small, because I haue loytered; & stenderly grounded, through want of abilitie. Sith thou hast likened me to Socrates, whose Nihil scio is confirmed by Arcesilas, Zeno, Empe­docles, Anaxagoras, and the whole rab­ble of them which pulled out our eyes, that wee mighte not see: and taught vs to wander in the darke, giuing no cre­dite to their senses, but doubting conti­nually whether Snowe were white, or the Crowe black, I might ripp vp that controuersie of the Academikes and [Page 10] the Peripatetikes, and shew thee by rea­son, that I knowe nothing, to driue thee off from the thinge which thou longest to heare. Which if I should doe, and dote in those thinges that I dayly see, I am fully perswaded, when I call for a Booke, Philotimo woulde presentlye giue me a Brickbatte, to make me di­stinguish a Stacioners shoppe, from a Stone wall. Therefore acknowled­ging my self to be made of a soule, and of a bodie, the one deriued from Heauen, the fountaine of Knowledge; the other from Earth, the seate of ignoraunce; I am driuen too confesse that I neither knowe all thinges, which belongeth too GOD; nor am ignoraunte in all thinges, which is proper too Beastes; but am perfecte in some thinges, vnskil­full in other, which life is onely peculiar to man. This doctrine is taught by Aristotle, approued by Foxius, layde o­pen by Tully, and soundely discoursed by Lactantius. Whose arguments, Philotimo, I wil not alledge, because I see the ignorant which neuer redde them will not vnderstande them; the learned [Page] which knowe them already, will not re­garde them. And thy selfe I perceiue art more desirous to heare such thinges, as are profitable to reforme manners; than suttle, to stirre vp discention in schooles. The greatest thing that at this time thou desirest to knowe, is onely this: Which way thou mightest behaue thy selfe to rebuke thy friende in his fault without offence. A busie prouince no doute for a simple witte, and suche a burden as Hercules might refuse. There are many good Scholers and grounded Philoso­phers in Sienna, whose shoulders would better become this taske: yet seeing all men to looke for greater thinges at their hands, because of their knowledge; than they are willing to shew, Want of re­warde, the death of lear­ning. when they are flightly rewarded; they had rather con­tent them with a priuate life, then take so much paine, for so little thanks. But if I (which may not compare with them, neither in learning, for I am young; nor in iudgement, for I am rawe) chaunce to swarue in my penne through wante of reading; lay the fault to my youth, & par­don my folly, I desire no more recom­pence for my trauell: A little streame, [Page 11] serues to driue a light Mill; and a lea [...]e fee is fitte for a lazie Clarke. Therefore sith thou requirest, whose friendshipp I cannot forget; thou commaundest, whose authoritie I will not resiste; I meane to prosecute that which I first began, not as chefest of al men, that with greatest gra­uitie, but chosen by thy selfe, that with smallest ieoperdie, might shew my mind; nor y ^t thou shalt find me as plentiful as A­maltheaes horne, to yeeld thee what fruit soeuer thou crauest; but that in this va­cant time, wherein your affayres are lit­tle, my businesse lesse; you frō the Court, I from the Vniuersitie, & bothe idle; the day slipe not away without some pro­fite.

Diogenes thought it necessary for vs in this life, to haue either good friendes or great enemyes; they neuer cease to ex­horte vs to vertue, these are stil searching for a hole in our garmentes. Therefore when one perceiuing the Greekes to bee subdued, and the Carthaginiens vtterly ouerthrowen, boldely pronounced that the Romanes were safe; Nay, quoth Sci­pio Nascica, now is the time of our chie­fest danger, because we haue left vs nei­ther [Page] friendes a broade, whome we should follow; nor foes, of whom we should stand in feare. Whereby thou maist see, Philo­timo, howe requisite it is for vs in these dayes by one meanes or other to be tolde of our faults. Euery man is desirous, if he haue a blot in his paper, or a botch in his verse, or a stain in his cote, or a spot in his face, to heare of the same, y ^t for his owne credit he might amend it. We are al wil­ling to dresse our selues by a glasse, that nothing about vs stād awry, yet are we also blinde of affection, so blunt of conditi­on, so waywarde of minde, and so waspish of nature, that wee cannot abide to heare of any wrinkle, in our behauiour; but if any man friendly admonishe vs of such [...] deformities, we are straight at daggers drawing, we flinge out of company, wee chalenge the fielde, and for his good will we rewarde him with hate. To auoyde such a braule, and to keepe thy friende, to shew him his vice, and to saue thy selfe to rebuke him for his manners, and ye [...] winne his hart; I haue alredy giuen the [...] a Caue at, forbidding thee flatly to repre­hend in ioy, or in sorowe; in mirth, or i [...] misery; in pleasure, or paine. And that I [Page 12] may the better imitate the course of na­ture, which runneth à priuatione ad habi­tum, from killing, too quickening; from death, vnto life; I will firste remooue the blocks out of thy way that thou stumble not, and shewing thee what turnings be­twixte this and thy iournyes ende muste be lefte, to keepe thee stil in the righte way, I thinke it best to vnfolde vnto thee as plainely as I can, what thou shalt flie in reproouing thy friend, that I may the easier teache thee heereafter what thou shalt followe. As our friendes are not to be rebuked when they are pleasaunt, nor 1 when they are dumpish: so are they not likewise to be touched in Company, nor 2 in Choler, nor Continually, nor in a bra­uery, nor when our selues are as bad as they. In Company: because we loath to 3 he taunted before them, of whom we de­sire to be well lyked. When Aristome­nes the scholemaister of King Ptolome saw the king sleepe before certaine Am­bassadors, & with rebukes awaked him in their presence, he gaue occasion to flat­terers to picke a thank in his Maiesties quarrell, who incensed him so farre with the remembraunce of that reproch, that [Page] they caused him streighte to enforce his Maister, to drinke his laste draught in a Cup of poyson. Dion. Tiberius which succeded Augustus in the Empire of Rome, and withhelde the legacie which Augustus by Testament had giuen to the people, perceiuing one round a dead coarse in the eare, called the man, and demaunded the cause why he did so; To whom the fellow replied before them all, that he willed the soule which was fleeting from thence, to an other world, to certifie Augustus that the commons of Rome were yet vnpaid. Wherevpon the Emperor charged him presently to be slaine, that he might carry the newes and doe the errande him self, which knewe beste howe the case stoode. Because Pythagoras sharply rebuked his friend in company, Pl [...]. a young man pre­sently cast a halter aboute his neck, mea­ning either to bridle his tong, or to thrat­tle him; By which the Philosopher euer after amended his faulte, and learned in such places, to vse other talke. And Pla­to perceiuing Socrates too charme his friende rashely at an open Table, shewed him that it had beene the poynt of a wise man, to haue doone that in secret: Very [Page 13] wel, quoth Socrates, had it not beene as wise a parte, for thee to haue tolde mee this in secret? The like method hath the holy Ghost sette downe in the Booke of God, willing vs if wee see our brother of­fend, to drawe him aside, and admonishe him gently: if that preuayle not, then to rebuke him before witnesse: but if this will not serue, by order of law to appeale to the Iudge.

In Choler; because wee are perswa­ded 4 that bitter wordes proceede rather from a foe then a friend, Dion. from an ill mind then a well meaning. Vespasian hearing Demetrius reuyle him, tolde him this: Thou hast prouoked me already Deme­trius to kill thee, but it is not my fashion to slay any Curr because he barketh. Had not that Prince with greater wisedome gouerned his handes, than rayling De­metrius ruled his tounge, so lauishe a mouth had cost him his life. We are wil­led which are christians, to reforme one another w ^t the spirit of meekenes, which is likened to a Doue, and the Doue hath this propertie, it lack [...] a gall; so must we in reuealing the faultes of our friends, be cleane voyde of Gall, of bitternesse, of [Page] anger, of malice.

5 In a Brauerie: because he which see­keth to win glory by other mens vices, is no more to bee regarded, then a common quacksaluer, which trudgeth from Citie to citie, with a box full of drugs, to proclame in the market what sores, or what sicknesse, he is able to cure, and by this dauncing [...]inde of gesture with the proude Pharisee iustifie himselfe to his owne shame.

6 Continually: because it is irksome to be euer rubd on the gaule, too much of one thing is good for nothing. The Surgion doth not alwayes tormente his cure, for troubling the wounde, and making his patient refuse remedie. The maister is not euer whipping his Scholer, or ca­sting the offence he commits in his teeth, for dulling his wit, hardening his heart, and forcing him vtterly too abhorre his Booke. He that continually wipeth the face to make it cleane, may chafe of the skinne and disfigure it more. Therefore I may well like the man whiche at no time ceaseth too rebuke, too a pestilente whilewinde, that gathereth togither no­thing but cloudes, and driues all the dust [Page 14] in the streetes on a heape; or to a Rauen, whose propertie is euer to seaze vppon carrion; or to the Sow, that is euer wroo­ting among weedes.

If our selues be naught: because it is 7 a great shame to reprooue that in others, which we go not about to reforme in our selues. They were forbid in ancient time too expounde Oracles, Plut. whiche had any botch about their body: Much more are their lippes to be sealed vp, which haue neuer a cleere corner in their soules. Se­neca was ill thought on for inueighing against lewdnesse, and loued Agrippina; for mislyking of authoritie, and was an Emperours maister; for dispraysing the Courte, himself a Courtier; for speaking against flatterers, and fawnde vppon Queenes; for condemning of riches, himselfe beeing wealthie; and for rebu­king excesse, when himselfe had fiue hun­dred stooles in his house of one fashion, Dion. al headed with Cipres, and footed with Y­uory. Salust wrote many things againste spoylers of coūtryes, and robbers of pro­uinces, yet when Caesar appoynted him to gouerne Affrike, he polled the people as fast himselfe. Thus may we not mini­ster [Page] remedie to others, when our selues are full of the like corruption; lest we be commaunded as hypocrites, ere we take away the mote from our brothers sight, to remoue the beame frō our owne eyes; Or as diseased Phisitions, to helpe our selues. For he that is fallen, cannot pull vp his friend; nor he that is wicked, giue any good counsell to offenders.

These are the rocks, Philotimo, which thou must shunne in rebuking thy friend, if thou desire to vtter thy wares, & bringe thy shippe to a safe harbour. Peraduen­ture there may bee more added by riper wittes, which my selfe haue not reade, or not remembred; And sith time will not serue me to search them out, I had rather contente my selfe with these, then coyne any more without commission, leste I chaunce to passe my lymites as farre as Priamus, which was registred to be the father of fiftie Children, and but xvii. of them lawfully begotten. He that will not be runne a grounde in his passage, muste tary the tide ere he take Boate; The say­ler that is lothe to be driuen beyonde his reach, must waite till he cary the winde in a bag; The Merchant that wisheth to [Page 15] make a hande of his goods, muste watch opportunitie to open his Shop; And if that inreprouing the abuses of thy frend, thou forsake those daungerous shelues which I haue shewed thee, and art come to Anchour, very desirous to be vnladen, thou must chuse a fitte time to discharge thy conscience: for the neede of the chap­man rayseth the market, and the occasi­on which they them selues giue that are to be chide, shall fetch out thy counsel at a good rate.

Suche a time did Solon pick out to rebuke Craesus when he shewed him his treasure: A tempore [...] such aduauntage Demaratus tooke of kinge Philip, to tell him of the debate betwixt him & his Queene. For whē the king asked him how the Greeks did agree within themselues: It is very well doone my leege (quoth Demara­tus) for your maiestie to demande how quietly the Atheniens & Peloponnesians doe liue abrode, when you and your Queene are at discorde at home. Such an occasion Diogenes caught at the first bounde, who beeing taken in the tentes of the same Philip (which then deter­mined too warre with the Greekes) [Page] and brought in his presence, the king as­ked presently, if he were a spye: yea, sayd Diogenes, a spye, that hath already dis­couered thy rashenes, which neither con­streined by force, nor prouoked by iniury, art come hither, to hazard thy lyfe, thy glory, thy power, thy possession, thy Crowne, thy Kingdome, and al that thou hast, in owne houre. Such opportunitie was not forslewed by Bato the ringlea­der of the Rebelles in Dalmatia, Dion. for cō ­ming too the Emperour too entreate of peace, when Tiberius first questioned with him, why he arose in Armes? By­cause (answered hee) you sent vs neyther shepperds to regarde vs, nor dogges too defende vs, but Woolues too deuoure vs.

Some tymes bicause the wind is not euer in one quarter, we must ship out our [...]ares, and further our course, either by the person of our selues, A personae. Quinque modis. which rebuke, or of him which is rebuked, or of his felow, 1 or of his friendes, or of his enemies. Of our person: when we confesse our selues to haue had the like vice, and amended it; to haue beene in lyke daunger, and esca­ped it. So Iupiter and Iuno falling at [Page 16] variance for matters belonging too Ve­nus sportes, thought Tiraesias, who had beene both a man and a woman, fittest of all; to take vppe the controuersie, and to conclude for them bothe, which of the twoo, the man, or the woman, was grea­test wantō. Of the person of him whom 2 we rebuke: when the partie himselfe of his owne accorde confesseth one of his lightest faultes; so is the example of Phi­lotimo the Phisition too bee followed, which tolde his patient, that shewed him a chapte finger, that he fostered a greater disease then that, and shoulde take some Phisicke for his hotte liuer. Of his fel­lowes: 3 when he perceiueth the faultes which himself committeth, to be seuere­ly punished in another. So did Ammo­nius accustome to rebuke his schollers. For vnderstanding one day that some in the schoole had played the gluttons, hee commanded his seruant to beate his own sonne, and turning his face too them that deserued it, told them, that such a wagge coulde neuer dyne wel without sauce too his meate. Of his friendes: whome hee might to reuerence for their good wil and 4 fully perswade him of their honest mind. [Page] After this fort Plato reprehended Dionysius, for thrusting him out of the Court, without cause. And hauing obtayned au­dience of the King, he began firste to rea­son in the person of an enemie. If thou knewest Dionysius, that any of thy fooes had ariued in Sicily to doe thee hurt, and wanting opportunitie fayled of his pur­pose, wouldest thou let him escape with­out reuenge? No, said Dionysius, for I punish the intent aswell as the deede do­ing. Then Plato disputing with him pre­tily à contrariis, descended straighte into the person of a friende and replyed thus; If any of your friends for the loue that he beares you, come hether to Sicily, to doe you good, but hath loste his labour, be­cause your self hath not giuen him leaue, will you turne him away without re­ward? Dionysius demanded who it was that had taken such paine, and was so lightly regarded: Plato yet couered him­selfe and said, it was Aeschines, whose e­loquence was abie too reforme the man­ners of those that imbraced his compa­nie: It is euen he that hath trauelled far, and passed the Seaes in danger of life to teach thee Philosophy, and is not estee­med. [Page 17] Wherevpon the Kinge greatly de­lighting in the boldesse of his spirit, em­braced him againe, brought him into the Courte, and delte very bountifully with him and Aeschines. Orat. pro. Caeli [...] So likewise Tully nippes Clodia in the person of her little brother. It mooueth vs asmuch too a­mend our manners, and saueth the rebu­ker without hurte, when our vice is laide open to vs in the person of such, as by af­finitie of bloode wee are bounde to like. By which meanes I haue hearde, that one Fulco, a bolde Bishopp, which was Embassadour in Engande in the time of King Richarde the first, King Richards three daugh­ters banished the Courte. and perceiuing very great abuses in the Courte, boldely stepped to the King, and tolde him, that hee had three arraunce Whoores to his daughters, for whome if he speedily pro­uided not mariages, it woulde turne his maiestie to shame, and his Courte too re­proche. The first of them he tearmed to be Pride, the seconde Couetousnesse, the thirde Luxurie. The good king hearing the names of his straunge daughters, en­tred into a deeper consideration of their natures; & the next day called his Coun­cell togither, to gette them husbandes. [Page] When hee had opened the talke of the Bishop to the Peeres of his Realme; he presently gaue Pride to the Templers, Couetousnes to the Cisterttan Monks, and Luxurie to the ruffling Prelates of the Church. Sometime if wee suppose all those deformities to be in an other, which abounde in the partie whome we reproue, naming no body, but leauing the matter doubtful, and indifferent to bee applyed by the guilt [...]e conscience it self, it is very forcible. So Tully playes with Clodia in the same Oration for Caelius, which I cyted before. If any widowe haue set her dores wide open to Baw­dry, and yeelded her selfe a common Curtezan, refusing not to feast among those whom she neuer knewe, if she do this in the citie, in gardens, in commō meetings: To be short, if shee behaue her selfe so not onely in gesture, but in attyre and companie; nor in gloating of her eyes, and lauishnesse of speech, but in embracinges, in kissings, in ba­thinges, in banquetes, whereby she is iudged as impudent as whoorish; If, I say, a younge Nouice haue stumbled by chaunce into her company, tell me [Page 17] Lucius Herennius, whether thou terme him a lecher or a louer? Such a fellow as hath sought to robb her of her ho­nestie, or to reaue her of that shee was willing to loose? I forget my iniuryes Clodia, I shake of the remembrance of my sorrowe, I ouerskippe thy crueltie to my friendes in my absence, doe not thinke these things which I haue vtte­red, to be spoken of thee; yet giue me leaue to aske thee a question, because our accusers haue sifted the crime out of thee and alledge thee for witnesse: if there bee any such woman as I late described vnlike to thy selfe in life, or in lewdnesse, with whom a young man hath a little beene conuersaunt, whe­ther thou thinke it so heynous a mat­ter? If thou be not the same woman, as I wish; what is it that can bee obiected to Caelius? but if other men apply, and say thou art she, why shoulde we feare that offence which thou regardest not? Neuerthelesse sith you may wel perceiue that Cicero vsed this going aboute the bushe, rather to checke her bitterly, then reforme her friendly; to taunte her in the Senate, than teach her in secret; and to [Page] touch her neerest, when she least loked for it; I will let slippe, and com [...] to the per­son of his enemies whom we are willing to reprehende. For hee that rebuketh in this manner, remooueth the blame from him selfe, and turnes it to him in whose person hee speakes; which I will shewe thee, Philotimo, by a very familiar exā ­ple. Signior leraldi, a Magnifico in this Citie, whom thou knowest well, since my comming to Venice, inuited mee diuers times to his house. One day especiallyas we sat at dinner, he began to moue talke of Samarcho y ^e Lawyer: frō him he des­cended to his Sonne, which at this time enioyeth my roome in Sienna, demaun­ding of me, how I lyked his wit: So, so, Sir, said I, and shooke my heade. Then Ieraldi tolde mee, that within these fewe dayes the young man came from the V­niuersitie to visite his friends, the father requested Ieraldy too Supper, that hee might see this towarde youth. When they were set, Sirra, quoth the wise Fa­ther to the wittie sonne, you haue Phia­loes place, but I hope you wil not proue such an vnthrist as Phialo; wherat the ma­nerly puppie begā to pou [...]. Credit me, said [Page 19] Ieraldi, I stoode in doubte whether I shoulde blame the Father for speakinge without booke, or condemne the sonne for his ill nurture: but you may see, Phialo, how good it is for you to walke warely, that the mouthes of your enemyes may be stopped: This prety kinde of rebuke so far fetcht, caused me to thank the Mag­nifico for telling me what he hearde, and to storme at Samarcho, for reporting so il of me without ground. I would not haue him to counte his Chickens so soone be­fore they be hatcht, nor tryumphe so long before the victorie: These are rath daies, it is honie moone yet, if he see his sonne swimme, let him thanke GOD which hath made him able too holde him vppe by the sinne. There is yet small iudge­ment to be giuen: the greene blade that appeares firste, & shootes highest, is soo­nest bitte with a blacke froste. As too much drought hath caused thy Phialo to shedde his leaues: so too muche moy­sture may choke vp his graffe, and both wither for company. But to leaue them, I will cast aboute to the place where I strooke sayle, and returne to my purpose as fast as I can. When thou hast watched [Page] thy time and caught thy friende solitary, vnfolded thy minde in any of these per­sons which I haue rehearsed, the thing it selfe many times will accuse the man, though thou holde thy peace. The thinge it self, [...]. saith Tully, wil cry out, though I be mute. And Plato prouounceth that the life it selfe rebuketh Speusippus. Think not, Oratio: pro Rose: Amer. saith Tully, that as you haue heard in olde tales, the wicked are chased & affrighted with the firebrandes of fu­ryes, euery mans owne tretchery & his owne feare troubleth him, euery mans owne faulte torments him, and pricks him, their owne conceite, and their owne consciences euer gnawe them. Where the man is so scourged, & feeles so many witnesses in himselfe, thou shalt haue the lesse neede to shewe it him. Ab [...]. O­therwise if thou see him alofte, and feare that he will be carryed away with plea­sure to forget himselfe, thou mayest then take occasion by his presente state too warne him: Speusippus wrot vnto Dion in his chiefest pompe, exhorting him not to looke too high, because he was a gal­lant Gentleman, and muche made of a­mongst women, but to haue a care that [Page 19] Sicily bee well gouerned with equitie, maintained by Iustice, and beautified trimly by good lawes. The same Plato which coulde not bee perswaded too pre­scribe any orders of lyfe to the Cirenen­ses, bicause he thought their prosperitie woulde not suffer them to take the bitte, iudged it necessary to bid Dion beware of his comely personage and flourishing dayes, for pryde at one tyme or other wil haue a fal.

And bycause that sore eyes maye not view the light, without a scarfe; I thinke it necessary for thee, in making thy friend acquainted with his faulte, too vse a sha­dowe; which may bee doone by tempring thy speaches with commendations. The Phisition is more desirous too cure his Patient by sleepe, then by Rubarbe; by comfortable meates, than foraine drugs, by the Cookes helpe, than the Apotheca­ries shop. The Fencer entring the Liste to come too blowes, geueth a florish with his weapon too moue delight, & in al the conflict bendeth his body with a comely grace. The Surgeon comming too the member that must bee cutte, bolstereth it vp with softe pillowes, muffleth his Pa­tients [Page] eyes with a clout, and toucheth the [...]yle as tenderly as he can. So shal it be­hooue thee in reforming thy friend, and purging the humor whiche hurteth him most, too take away the bitternesse of thy Lozinge, with sweete Syrops, commen­ding him for that he hath done wel, auoy­ding comparisons, bycause they are odi­ous, accepting his excuse, if he chance to reply, lessening his fault asmuch as you may, cooling his moode, with a fewe prayses, as the Smith doth his Iron too knit it the straighter, and make it strong. By reckoning vpp too them that which was done wel, wee make them ashamed, of that which is il.

Thus are they cheeflie too be wonne w ^t fayre meanes, by the example of the Phisition: or gently too bee entreated at the first, and then gaulled, as you see by the Fencer, and the Surgion: or too bee first heated, and fashioned, then cooled, & calmed, as a Smithes Iron, or a lazie Pandar. For the Mason, after hee hath stryken a deep gashe with the Chysel, in too his woorke, leaues it not rough, for [Page 21] beeing deformed, but smootheth it ouer, with finer tooles, to make it shewe beau­tifull to the eye: He pareth away what­soeuer is rugged, for spi [...]ing his woork; And wee muste shaue of all that, with a smooth tounge, which wee lefte sharpe, with a rough taunte, for spoyling our friende. Therefore it is tollerable some­times to purge him aloofe, and post the faulte ouer to another, as the onely cause of that offence. So Tully excuseth Atra­cinus, for accusing of Caelius, imputing the fault to his zeale, who was willing to haue all amended; or to compulsion, as though he were forced to it by other; or to his youth, which was easie to bee bry­bed. Wherein I may liken his practize to the countrieman, whiche soweth Oni­ons and Garlike, neere to his Roses, that they might draw the grosse & sowre moysture into them selues, & so make the flowers a great deale sweeter. This might bee handled, Philotimo, more at large, but a becke is as good, as a Dieu garde, and a woorde enough, too a wise hearer. The Atheniens were one day de­sirous to haue some new peece of work, and setting two notable Carpenters be­fore [Page] them, to knowe which was the best: the one hauing a quick wit, and a ready tounge, reasoned of many things belong­ing to building, and discoursed his art with apte woords and sentences orderly placed, which lyked them well: The o­ther beeing the better workman, and the woorse Orator, more skilful in his toles, than in his toung; tolde the Atheniens, that all which his fellowe had vtterrd in woordes, himselfe was able to shewe in deedes. And sith we both studie to coun­sell our friendes when we see thē swarue, which no doubte wilbe a profitable peece of woorke, because I haue according too my small skill in Rhetorike, drawne out the frame with a fewe woordes, I woulde haue thee presently to put it in practize: which if thou doe, auoyding that which is to be fled; pursuing that, which is to be followed not chiding thy friende in ioy, for ouerthwarting; nor in sorrow, for oppressing; nor in company, for trou­bling; nor in choler, for vexing; nor in brauery, for vaunting; nor alwayes, for discouraging; nor when thy self art worse for scorning: but grounding thy argu­ments on the person, or on the fault, or on [Page 21] the time, so seasoning and spiring thy talke with sweetenesse, that it slip downe [...]pace without chewing; and touch him at the quick, without molesling; thou shalt profite him pleasure his friends, not hurt thy selfe, reforme vice, aduaunce vertue, and giue a good push, to the profession of a young Diuine.

Beleeue me, sayd Philotimo, if it be the propertie of a cunning Painter, to giue life to a huge beast, in a narrow pa­per; of a towarde Souldier, to turne a great horse, in a little compasse; and of a good scholer, to couch many things, in a fewe woordes: for declaring of matters so rough, aptly; so confused, orderly; so re­dicus, breefely; I maye well call thee a new Protagenes, a seconde Alexander, and the very hatchet of Demosthenes. And though I cannot commend thee suf­ficiently in thine owne presence, without suspition of flatterie: yet dare I not with­holde the Garland from thee, which thou deseruest, for doing thee iniurie.

Very wel, answered Phialo, because you are a Philosopher, and a Courtier, in the one, you attribute that vnto mee, that is due to your selfe, which is Socra­tes [Page] floute: in the other, I finde you very franke of good woords, which is proper to the place wherein you liue. Epist [...] ad Tho. Archiep. Ebor. Therfore giue me leaue to say that too you, which Erasmus wrote of Henrie the eight, a victorious King of Englande. I am ve­ry glad, sayth he, and haue woonderfull cause to reioyce in hearte, that I am so highly cōmended of so famous a Prince, but much more shoulde I bee bounde to his maiestie, if aduauncing my estate, his highnesse vouchsafed to confirme that which he auoucheth. I speake not this to compare you to King Henrie, or my selfe to Erasmus, for there is oddes. Yet sith it hath pleased you to tickle mine eares with so high prayses, I shoulde euer ac­count my self your debtour, if you would aswell further my studyes with your hel­ping hand, as you haue lifted them vp, w ^t a glosing toling. For many thought Eras. not to be so learned, because he was bare: And euery man will iudge me to be but a Duns, when he sees me a begger. Yet that worthy Prince which neuer suffred vertue to depart emptie hāded, stayed vp the fame of Erasmus with his liberality: and I trust, when soeuer you commend [Page 23] me againe, you wil open your lippes and your purse togither.

With this Philotimo began to smile, and taking poore Phialo by the hand, led him to the Table, where they bothe pla­ced them selues to supper: which no doubt was passed ouer with little talke, because they had tyered them selues before, both beeing desirous to busie their teeth and their tounges otherwise. The Supper once ended, Phialo beganne to take his leaue for that night, and withdrawe him­selfe to his owne lodging, for withhol­ding Philotimo from his rest, who could not chuse but be weary after such a iour­nie. But the noble Gentleman taking so great pleasure in the conference of Phia­lo, that hee had altogither forgotten his former trauel, suffered not his friende to departe frō his side, requesting him ear­nestly to keepe him company, till hee re­turned towarde the Courte. Phialo easie enough to bee intreated of so greate a friend, stayed, and spent the grea­test parte of the night with him in talke.

THe nexte day Philo­timo was very desi­rous too vsite leraldi, and stirring some­what the earlier, that he might both thank him for his curtesie towards Phialo, and spend the time in some argument till dinner approached, he set forwarde with Phialo to this Mag­nificoes house, where they soūd the graue father very harde at his Booke. They had no sooner embraced him, and hee giuen courteous intertainment to them, but Philotimo tolde him hee was sorie, that it was his chaunce to come to his house at such a time, as might rather hinder his studyes then pleasure him any way.

No Sir, saide Ieraldi, excepte you iudge me to be a Cato, whose eyes were continually fixed on his Booke, his mind asmuche busied in Ciuill gouernmente. That which I reade, is onely to shunne [Page 23] Idlenesse, when I lacke such good com­pany. My learning is small, my iudge­ment as slender in matters of weight: therefore haue I chosen such a booke to peruse, as rather delighteth mee with pleasant conceites, than troubleth my wittes with construing of things beyond my reache. Beholde Philotimo it is only a discourse which liuely discribeth the image of a Courtier, fitter for you to professe, then for me to reade. Heere is a sweet stile, pure phrase, little affected and many good preceptes to be learned. But you knowe howe easie a thinge it is to cutt a garment, by an other mans pat­terne, too builde when the foundation is layde to our hands; or to add more of our selues to those things, which are already inuented by other. Though the wri­ter of this discourse haue doone well, yet in my opinion hee sawe farre, and per­ceiued not all; hee wrote much, and let somewhat slippe that better deserued to be touched. Wee see in this body of ours, that one foote steppeth beyonde the other; with the hande we reache far­ther than we stride; with the toung, we [Page] sounde farther than wee strike; with the eare, wee doe heare beyonde our voyce; the sight of our eye, peerceth beyond our hearing; and the caste of the minde, out­strips them all. So shall you finde in the body of euery common wealth, not e­uery thing so absolute in one particular member, but something may bee wi­shed for, which it wanteth; Euerye man in one poynte, or other, passing his fellowe, and himselfe as much inferiour to them, as they are to him, whom he ex­ceedeth. Tullie was eloquent, but feare­full too speake; Crassus bolde, but verye broade mouthed; Menestheus in courage geueth place to Stenhelus, Stenhelus to Diomed, Diomed too Aiax, and hee too Achilles. Agamemnon was saide too bee a wise Prince, yet gladde many times to bee counselled by Nestor. Euri­tion shot best for Aeneas games, Virgil. but A­cesta caried away the Prize, because hee deliuered his arrowe with so cunning a loose, that it caught fier as it flew, & con­sumed to cinders. Andromacha & Pene­lope were bothe chaste, and both loy­all too theyr Husbandes, yet Penelo­pe deserued the greater prayse.

[Page 25] The feete of Thetis were as brighte as siluer, but the ankles of Hebe, cleerer thē Cristall; The armes of Aurora, as rud­dy as the Rose, but the bres [...]es of Iuno, as whyte as snowe; Minerua was wise, but Iuno was welthie, & Venus in beau­tie stayned them both. Iewelles are all precious, but not all of one price, nor all of one vertue, nor of like perfection. The Adamant of nature draweth Iron, but the stone Hematites dooth stoppe blood. The Carbuncle in darknesse shineth like fire, but the Topase is holp with the light of the Sunne. Thus may you perceiue, that all Riuers haue not their course in­to one Sea, all fruite, doth not grow vp­on one tree, all fishe, is not taken in one streame, all fashions, are not cut out of one cloth, all lawes, are not made by one Solon, al Countryes, are not gouerned by one Prince, al knowledge, is not foūd in one head, nor all Images hewed out of one block. But one enioyeth that which another wants, & the same lacketh that, which another hath. The Moone and the Starres doo gouerne the night, but the Sunne receiueth the day to his charge; [Page] Neptune rules the seas, but Aeolus the wyndes; Cupid shootes arrowes, but Iupiter thunderbolts; Tibullus writes wanton sonets of loue, but Homer the bloodie destruction of Troy; And the Au­tor of this Booke which you tooke mee perusing teacheth a Courtier too tel a fine tale, but I hope you woulde haue profite his Countrie.

For my part, aunsweared Philotimo, I dare not meddle in this case, for mar­ring of that which I cannot amend, and sith my lucke serues me so yll, I am con­tented, with the losse of a single stake, to poste ouer my game to the hands of Phi­alo, who hath reade more than I, and Playes with aduauntage vppon sure cardes.

You know, answeared Phialo, that it is not for me, to teache gesture in the pre­sence of Roscius, to touch the stringes in Apolloes hearing, nor to describe a cour­tier before Philotimo. Yet if I mighte drawe you downe the patterne of a Cour­tier, I woulde haue him too bee in spi­rite a Cyrus, [...] Courtier. in temperaunce, an A­geselaus, [...] witte a Themistocles, in ex­perience [Page 26] a Philip, in boldenesse a Bra­sidas, in tongue a Pericles, in friende­shippe a Ionathas, in Wisedome a Solomon; excercised in armes, skil­full in Bookes, liberall in giftes, low­lie in Pompe, valiaunt in fighte, in Victorye mercifull; and too saie all at once, in his whole life a true Christi­an, that rather seeketh a Kingdome in Heauen, than a Scepter on earth, an immortall Crowne, than a vanishing wreath; the glorie of GOD, than his owne prayse. Yet sith my Cour­tier is as harde too bee founde in Italie, as Tullies Oratour, which neuer spoke; Aristotles blisse, which was neuer ta­sted; the Phoenix of Arabia, that was neuer seene; or the Castles which Ma­thematicians buylde in the Ayre with­out tooles; I will onely geue you three or foure Notes, which I thinke verie requisite in a Courtier, because I se them but slenderly handled by other.

Let a young Gentleman resorte too Ferara, you shall haue more readie too profer him Paris Harpe, then Achilles launce, nyce Doctrine, then manly Dis­cipline, [Page] Too subdue these affections, and too make choyce of euery thing that lieth before you; too consider the ende why you are called too that place, and too discharge your duetie whē you are there, you ought, Philotimo, to be learned, to be liberall, to abhorre flatterers, and chiefly of all to further Religion, whiche is the Sacrifice that God looketh for at your hands. Alexander was a Captaine to the Greekes, a Lord to the Barbarians, and a Philosopher too both, hee taught the Hircans too marry, the Arachosians to plough, the Sogdians too succour theyr parentes, the Persians to refrayne theyr mothers bedde, the Scithians to burye their dead bodies, and the Indians too honour the Grecians gods. Hee was in birth a Prince, in life a Philosopher, in troubles a souldier, in peace a Scholer. Thou art not sent to the Courte, Philoti­mo, to lay the floure of thy youth, in La­dies laps, but to learne the state of thine owne Countrey, and the conditions of forraigne Realmes, that thou mayest the better be able to serue thy Prince.

When Embassadours came out of [Page 27] Persia to Philip of Macedon, Alexan­der his sonne, being then but a childe, as­ked them nothing of theyr maisters high Orchardes, or golden groaues, or what musicke hee loued, or what dauncers hee liked, but how many men at armes hee was able to make, if need required, what kinde of place he chosed to fight in, after what order he planted his battayle, what iustice he ministred to his subiectes, and by what kinde of lawes be gouerned his Countrey. Learning in Court. Learning hath beene thought so necessarie in the Courte, that Darius had alwayes rather see one Zopyrus at his Elbowe, then a hūdred Babyloniās. And when he was presented with a fayre Pomegranate, he wished to haue as ma­ny learned men continually about him as there were little graines within that ap­ple. When Dionysius embrased the doc­trine of Plato, the Nobles and Gentle­men so gaue their minde to knowledge, that euery corner in the Courte was full of triangles. It is necessary that they which looke vnto many, should see much, and sith the whole weight of the common wealth lieth in the necke of good Cour­tiers [Page] it were too bee desired, that none shoulde come there, but suche as are wise.

O Philotimo, how many young Gen­tlemen are there now in Tuscanie, which neuer dreame of these matters? but ha­uing stabled their horse for amoneth in Si­enna, though they neuer tasted the sweet­nesse of knowledge, by lothing the trauel, yet trudge they to Ferara, to liue in the Courte. Wherein I may say they are a great deale more fruiteful than Hares, A quicke child­bed. for they are reported to conceiue, to goe prowde, and to litter their liuerets at one instaunt. But these wexe great with lear­ning, before they conceiue it; and deliuer their burden fourtie weekes at the leaste before it is begotten. If they take the Court ouer their heades as a hoode for the raine, or a cloude for their ignorance, thinking that a little sparke there, should shine like a flame, and euery flye swell as bigge as an Eagle, they perceiue not that vnskilfull woorkemen setting a pup­pet vpon high pillers, too make it seeme huger; shewe euery faulte of it the play­ner. [Page 28] That they which wold not be seene, must not hide them selues on the toppe of an hill, and that suche as are placed in Princes Courtes, are subiect to the eare and eye of euery man: where they cannot once stumble in behauiour, with­out shame, nor trippe in their speeche without rebuke. Where the foundation is weake the frame tottereth, where the roote is not deepe the tree falleth, where the knot is loose the string slippes, where the water is lowe no bessell rides: and vpon litle learning the life of a Courtier cannot bee builded, because the foote is not able to beare vp the head.

Thou arte vtterly deceiued, Phi­lotimo, if thou think it should fare with thee, as it dooth with the Sunne, the nee­rer he mounteth vp to the Pole, the slow­er he mooues: and the higher thou settest thy selfe in the Courte, the lesser thou iudgest thou oughtest too studie.

Thou arte not called to this life too sleepe out thy dayes in a Trunke with Clearchus, or to ioyne with Domitian too catch Flyes. In emptie Vessels [Page] it passeth our cunning too finde where they leake, till wee poure in Liquour; I foole bewraieth himselfe if you geue him a Swoorde; the Oule is blinde, when she comes too light; the loyterer which hath effeebled his minde with pleasure and slouth, and nouseled himselfe in the fogge of ignorance, holdeth no water in princes Courts, playes like a foole with the sha­dow of authoritie, like a Bastarde Birde shutteth his eyes at the blase of Nobili­tie, brightnesse of honour, and knowledge of many matters. Homer in setting out the picture of Agamemnon, likeneth his eyes and his head to Iupiter: By which I gather that a Courtier ought too see so farre, that his sight may reache from the East too the West, and that his wisdome may shape out a new a Minerua. Minerua bredde in Iupiters brane. From the Court in all ages hath learning been mainteined, and men of excellent know­ledge receiued too the seruice of princes. So was Solon aduaunced by Craesus, Demaratus by Philip, Calisthenes by Alexander, Plato by Dionysius, and Se­neca by Nero: But if Courtiers begyn too despise knowledge, and thrust theyr [Page 29] Philosophers out of the gates, all wise­dome, al nurture, all good maners, al go­uernment, all honour and honestie goes too wracke. Plato had not been one houre out of Dionysius fauour, but euery one of his lessons was turned too a daunsing trick, euery Gentlemans Pen set a work with the prayse of his Mistresse; and eue­ry Geometrical figure drawen in the bo­tome of a Boule of Wine. When suche things happen, not onely the court is de­faced, by want of discipline; the countrey deformed, by foule disorder; the learned discouraged, for lacke of countenance; good letters banished, by discontinuance; but the Courtier, himself though his haire glister like the locks of Smerdia, A Courtier without learn­ning. though his eyes peerce the Marble wall, though his tongue be as soft as silke, or as sweet as hony, though his personage haue sto­len away all that nature is able too be­stowe, yet hee is no better then a deepe streame, bright in the toppe, and blacke in the botome; A kings Idole, sound with out, and finely gilded, hollow within, and filled with Lead; a great Canon, that ge­ueth amonstrous cracke and shootes but [Page] paper; a faire ship fraught with Balist, and the shape of a man stuft with straw.

Isocrates thought it as necessary for Gentlemen, Oratio ad Demo­ [...]cum. to practise the good qualities of their parentes, as too inherite their landes; for Nobilitie, riches, quarteryng of Coates, and suche like ornaments, are lanternes vnto our posteritie, which nei­ther suffer theyr vertues, nor their vices to be hid.

The auncient house of Sylla, the noble Romaine was almost decayed, and vtterly forgotten by the slouth of his progeny, till himselfe renued it by learning and vertue. Salust. Curious knottes shew wel, when they re pounced, but a great deale bet­ter, embrodered in silkes; and both are best on a Ladies backe. Costly stones shine brauely, when they are cut, but bra­uer when they are set in Golde, and both are most beautifull on a Princes finger. Learning hath some grace in a meane person, greater prayse in a Noble mind, and both are most glorious in the court. Therefore geue mee leaue, Philotimo, too entreate thee as a seruant, too admo­nishe thee as a friende, too commaund [Page 30] thee as Philosopher, that seruing the Duke of Ferara in his court, thy skil be as cleere, as thy honor is bright, thy ma­ners as comely, as thy personage, thy vertues as noble as thy parentage, thy lyfe, as vnspotted as thy blood. Oh howe many great men haue I read of in histo­ries, and seene in Italy, which hauing no knowledge in the course of the heauens, or the power of GOD; in the weakenes of man, or slipper holde of prosperitie, at the least smile of fortune, haue swelled in pride, and forgot themselues, as thogh shee were neuer able too frowne, or their floorishing dayes coulde neuer chaunge? Clitus, because hee tooke three or foure shippes at the Sea, called himselfe Nep­tune. Demetrius, for one good successe in all his affaires, termed him selfe Iupi­ter, sufferyng no forraigne Peeres too come to him of Embassage, but holy in­terpreters to demaunde Oracles. Lysi­machus, because be inuaded the borders of Thracia, and conquered a Moulehil, sayde hee touche Heauen with the poinct of his Launce, if hee had step­ped but one Inche further, I beleeue [Page] hee would haue vaunted that he had let Iupiter blood in the heele. Clearchus of Heraclia did beare a Thunderbolts, and called one of his children by the name of Thunder: Dionysius forgetting the doctrine of Plato, affirmed himself to be the sonne of Apollo; & Iulius Caesar disfigu­ring himself to passe secretly into Affrick, when the winde was against him, & the maister [...] too returne back, hid him goe forwardes, for hee carried Caesar, as though the name of an Emperour, the ti­tle of a King, or the shadow of a Cour­tier, mauger the Seas, were sufficient to passe. But that Courtier that cōsidereth, the Sunne too arise in the East with a firy garlande, and fall in the West with Eclipse of his light, that learneth by the Oracle of Apollo, Dion. to knowe himself, and acknowledge his maker in the same; shal easily find that his state is vncertain, and stay himself better by the fruite of know­ledge.

And it behooueth a Courtier too bee learned, Liberalitie in Court. because hee liueth in the place that thirsteth for skill: so shoulde hee bee liberall, because his God hath blest hym [Page 31] with plentie: For moysture is not geuen vnto Springes, that it shoulde remaine still in the place where they breede; but be conueied by Conduites too sundry cor­ners, to the watering of euery dryer soile, and the comfort of al that inhabite where. Plato thinketh that nature at y ^e first was deliuered of two daughters, Natures two daughters. Plentie, and Pouerty, to this end, that the one needing might craue that she lacked, the other a­bounding, supply all that wanted. Ari­stotles appetitus ad bonum is nothing but this, [...]. 1. that God hath geuen a Paradise to all thinges in their kinde, and natural­ly ingraffed in them a desire, too seeke it out. The Courte is the treasure-house of prefer­ment. And I perswade me that all power, all prefermentes, all offices, all the riches of euery coūtrey is locked vp in the court as the fittest Treasurie, that euery man by seruice should fetch his desert, and beg the thing there, that hee hath neede of. This ought the Courtiers of Ferara to consider, that they haue the keies of the Cheste to distribute, and wee are borne poore too flye vnto them; that they are sweete Springes, wee barren soyles, vn­able too yeelde anye fruite without theyr [Page] deaw; they, the heires apparant to Plen­tie, we, the ofspring of Pouertie; that we by the will of GOD, and the lawes of Nature, hauing recourse vnto them for succoure, mighte with submission ac­knowledge them our Lords, & our selues their vassailes: them our good Patrons, and our selues their beademen: where­by they louing vs, wee honouring them, they delighted in giuing, we cōforced in taking, bothe in one might euer agree.

I speake not this to maintaine idle beggers or lazie Philosophers, but too teach euery man firste to digge his owne grounde till he come to the Clay, Plato. then if he finde not sufficient liquour, to request some friendship at his neighbours well. After this sorte when my selfe was puld from Sienna, through want of abilitie, hauing nothing after the death of my fa­ther to shore vp my studies, I wrote cer­taine Rapsodia to a Courtier in Ferara, hoping to finde some fauour with him, because it was tolde me, that he was lear­ned, but I lost my labour, and at his own request and my charges, daunsed atten­daunce certaine daies at the Court, with­out thankes. At the laste remembring [Page 32] with my self, what Antigonus saide to a good scholer, w ^t presēted him a Pāphlee in praise of iustice: Thou art vnwise to giue me a boke of iustice, whē thou seest me delight in sacking of Cities, I began to surmise, that the sauce which I made, was too sharp for his dyet, and the hearbes which I brought, too strong for his nose. Therfore as closly as I coulo, I came to Venice, not once resorting, Phi­lotimo, vnto thee, nor any mā else which I know in Ferara, my hap was so bad, & my heart so big. Courtiers were wont in olde time to reioyce in these Epithites. And were called [...], men bountiful, valiant, mercifull, Plu. and mightie. In so much that me seeing Archestratus in great pouer­tie, write much, and get nothing, told him that if he had liued in Alexanders time, for euery line in his booke he would haue giuen him a kingdom. Among all the no­table praises of Sylla, Salust. I find it set downe, that he was so liberall, that he alwayes rather desired to giue, then to take, and if he had receiued a present of a friend, as a pledge of goodwil, he thought it due de [...], til the value were returned w ^t aduantage.

[Page] Peraduenture the Courtiers of Fe­rara haue learned of Tully, Courtiers apt scholers to Tullies precepts that to giue a­ny thing of their owne, pulleth somwhat away from the mayne stake, and draweth the spring of liberalitie drye; by which meanes bounty stoppes the passage of liberalitie, like the Pellican, which is sayd, in succouring her young to wound herselfe; and the Adder that giueth life to her broode, by her owne death. For the more they let out and distribute abrode, the lesse they haue in their Coafers at home. Therefore practizing with Tullie, to giue that continually, which they giue willingly, they put their handes in their purses, and pul out nothing. Yet the same Cicero in the name of Theophrastus, commendes Hospitalitie, Orat. pro Mar. Marcello. thinking it very plausible in great men, to set their doores open to gay guestes, to entertaine forraine Princes very sumptuously, and reward them richely, by which they con­firme their own safetie, increace the num­ber of their friends, and fil their Chestes higher with a priuy gaine. Following the countriemans custome in this, which doungeth his grounde, franckly casteth [Page 33] his seed in the furrowes, to haue it resto­red in haruest with Vsurie. This is it, which Cicero sayth, wee should giue of our owne to them that are fit. And what are they, but such as are able to make vs amendes? wherein he neither regardeth the nature of bountie, nor knowes what belongeth to a benefite. For he is not li­berall that giueth to take, Aristotle. because libera­litie consisteth in giuing much, and recei­uing little: neither may that rightly bee tearmed a benefite, Lactantius. which at any time is returned again. Thus Cicero measuring a Courteris liberalitie by priuate com­modity, like a blind Philosopher gropes at high noone, A strang in­chauntment. and treads awry. I haue reade of an herbe which is called Eryn­gium, and some writers affirme, that if any Goate chaunce to take vp a leafe of the same in her mouth, presently her selfe and all the whole heard, as they were in­chaunted, doth stand stil, not mouing one foote either forwarde or backwarde, till the Heardman himselfe come and pull it away. And I thinke that some doating Philosopher which ledde the Daunce, hath caught this Eryngium betwene his [Page] teeth and bewitched the whole rabble of them that followed; with whom Tullie himselfe standes in a traunce, not know­ing which way to turn him in moral ver­tues. For sometime hee exhorteth vs too haue greater regarde to our gayne than our honour, to a glosing bountie, then a true liberalitie. And sometime agayne he teacheth vs all too bee single hearted, which is for our honour, not to pretende one thing and performe an other, which is hypocriste. Therefore let vs bring out the trueth as a skilfull heardman to teare this enchaunted Hearbe from his mouth.

Lactantius deuideth the office of iu­stice into two parts, Lib. 6. de vero [...]. cap. 10. the one ioyned with God which is religion; the other linked to man, and that is curtesie. The firste I will handle when I shall see occasion; the last falleth so full into my handes, and so sitte for my purpose, that it may not be rashely ouerskipped. For GOD which hath geuen to brute beasts both strength and weapons too defende themselues, bard them of reason; Man borne to doe good. but sending man na­ked and weake into the worlde, he ligh­tened [Page 34] his minde with the Lampe of knowledge, planting suche inwarde remorse in his hearte, that seeing the image of himselfe in another, acknow­ledging presently his owne weake­nesse, and deepely considering that wee haue all one maker, GOD; one Father Adam; one Nurse, the earth; he shoulde loue him vnfaignedly, embrace him with curtesie, frankely streatch out his hande to succeour him, and sette foote by foote vnto death to defende him. Hee that per­formeth not this which Nature exacteth, and duetie challengeth, is rather too bee helde for a beaste, then a man; because he sheweth not the loue of the hearte, the affect of the minde, the touche of consci­ence, the force of pietie, the fruite of that curtesie which GOD hath engrassed onely in man. Therefore Tullie flatlie reprooueth himselfe, when hee sayeth that Man obeying but Nature, canne neuer bee hurtefull vnto man. But too see another oppressed, and not too suc­cour him, is too hurte him; too per­ceyue him in neede, and not too geeue [Page] him releefe, is too denie it him; to finde him in danger, and not to saue him, is to kill him.

Aristotle and all Philosophers euer dreamed, Mans societie according to Philosophers. that men at the first, raunging the woodes for their foode, as beastes for a pray, hauing neither speeche nor conference, nor company togither, but cloathing their bodies with the leaues of Trees; couching their heades in Caues of the Earth; perceiuing their neigh­bours torne many tymes and deuoured with beastes; they whiche escaped the daunger ranne vnto other, crauing suc­cour by signes. Thus gathered togi­ther, they profered to speake, inuented names for euery thinge, and so grewe to societie. Yet seeing themselues, al­though they were many, vnable to with­stande the assaulte of deuouring beastes, because they were naked, they consulted togither too builde them vppe walles, to inuiron themselues with greater sure­tie; and to reste in the night, with more securitie. Othersome are perswaded that it was not the crueltie of beastes, nor the perill of their liues, nor the death of their [Page 35] fellowes, nor the feare of themselues, that drew them togither: but the hate of that solitarie life, and desire of compa­nie; the lyking, that eche one concei­ued of the other, the loue and friendship, that passed betwixt them, the want of a­bilitie & the will to profite: the likenes of Sexe, and the care to multiply: ioyned handes and heartes in perpetuall ami­tie. Definition of Curtesie. If we bee borne to loue, to like, and to helpe one an other, L [...]net. 6. de cu [...]tu. cap. 11. it is our duetie too knowe one an other, and imbrace with curtesie: For Curtesie is the friendly af­fection which we beare to a man, because he is that which we are. In that this af­fection is friendely, it must not be groun­ded on hope of game, lest it proue rather a liefcope of commoditie, then a knotte of amitie. True Loue. So, many times we loue brute beastes, making much of the Oxe, for his hide; the Weather, for his fell, bothe for the profite of their carcase: But true loue is painted naked, because it should haue nothing to giue, nor so much as a pocket to receiue. In that this affection is borne to another, because he is that which wee are, that is, a man; how bye so euer wee [Page] looke, in the Courte, or howe much soe­uer wee haue in wealth, wee ought too confesse that we may be that which an o­ther is, that is, poore.

Therefore it behoueth vs too doe that to other in neede, which we wishe too be done to our selues in necessitie. Who is it which sticking in the myre woulde not call for helpe? liuing in pouertie, would not seeke reliefe? in the pawes of the Li­on, would not crie for deliuerie? By this you may see, that he which denies succor to other, refuseth hereafter to be comfor­ted; which helpes not his brother in mi­serie, thinkes hee shal neuer haue neede himselfe. If the Courtiers of Ferara were not of this minde, they woulde not shew themselues Faulkeners in holding so fast. The olde Nosce teipsum is good for them, Let them learn in time to know themselues. Many greate Princes haue flourished a while, and withered away as they had not been; many high personages haue in the end left their seate & lepte at the cushion, lost their bagges, and loo­ked for the stringes. Priamus for all his happinesse in his youth, saw his Cosi­trie [Page 36] sackt with graie heares, and his chil­dren murdered before his face. All the ri­ches of Craesus were the Persians pray. Antigonus the great king of the Iewes was deposed by Antony, made Captiue at Rome, and scourged with roddes. Cy­rus the Conquedor was once in his daies glad of a cuppe of water. Annibal that ran like a woolfe ouer all Italy, was hun­ted to death in his owne Countrie. Dion. Cras­sus which was so rich, that hee thoughte him a begger that was not able with his owne reuenues yearely too mainteine a whole armie of fighting men, was ouer­thrown by the Parthians at the last, who to satisfie his greedy desire of welth, pow­red plentie of moulten golde downe his throte. Marius a meane man by vertue be­came a Consull in Rome, and after his pompe was driuen by Sylla too hide his beade in a Marishe among flagges. I could tel thee, Philotimo, how Decebal ꝰ turned the greate riuer Sargesia an other way, and digging a deep hole in the gulf, caste in his treasure, couered it strange­lie with huge Stones, returned the Streame too his course agayne, and [Page] killed the workmen, to keepe it secret, yet his owne friende Bicilis bewrayed it to the Romans, who ouercame him in fight, spoyled him of al, and fisht out his monie by the same policie that himself had buri­ed it. But it is not my drifte to ouer­charge thy memory with many histories. Consider with thy selfe that beeing a no­ble gentleman and a Courtier, thou arte as much subiecte too a foyle, as greater than thy selfe haue beene before thee. When the Kings fisher laieth her egges, the seaes are calme till they bee hatcht, when gallants breede in Princes courts, Fortune smiles til they be hartened; but as soone as the weather begins to blu­ster, the highest mast, is first rent, the lar­gest sayles are quickliest torne; the grea­test marke is soonest hit; and the Fishers nest is borne away. Remember, Philoti­mo, thou art a man hauing with vs the same maker, same Father, same Nurse, and receiuing of Nature, a softe hearte to be taynted with pitie; of Fortune, a full Purse, to distribute too suche as stande in neede; if thou perfourme it not, thou shewest thy selfe as vnwoorthy [Page 37] too bee cured when thou art hurt, as thou are vnwilling to bind vp thy bro­thers woundes. Therefore shake of that Iewishe liberalitie of Cicero, which is plaine Vsury, tread the Precept of Plau­tus vnder thy feete, which would not haue thee releeue the miserable, because thy benefite is lost, and prolongeth theyr life, to a farther wretchednesse; thinke with thy selfe that thou mayest fall, & succour them that are downe already; Do not for get that thou mayest be captiue, and help to redeeme the thrall from bondage; if thou iudge that thou mayest bee slaine in fielde, bury the carcasses of thy fooes; though thou see thy benefites perish here, thou shalt finde them againe in an other worlde. The hande of the poore is the almes boxe of Christ. Looke whatsoeuer thou geuest to them, shal be registred for thee in the booke of Life, and deepely in­graued in the gates of heauen.

I know, Philotimo, that where much blood is drawen, the body is pale; where many leape ouer, the hedge is broken; where diuers doe suck, the Nurse is dry; where euery man drawes, the water is [Page] troubled; where sundrye Flyes bite, the gaule is great; where euery hand fleceth, the sheepe go naked; & where al men that list to beg are rewarded, the treasure of a Monarch is soneconsumed. Many drones grating on Courtiers purses, eate vp the hony from such as deserue it. But if their honors woulde followe the examples of Cyrus and Archelaus, such as gape stil for Gudgeons would soone bee choked. Cyrus liuing in the Courte of Cyarexes, [...]phon. and hauing a great banquet prouided for him, distributed it too those that had taught him somewhat, either to ride or to darte, or some such like qualitie, but Sacas the Cuphearers share was leaste, because the nice gentlemā was good for nothing, but to fill Wine with twoo fin­gers into the Kinges Bowle. Arche­laus perceiuing an olde soker iogge him on the elbowe, and pul him by the fleeue as he sat at Supper, requesting to haue a cup of Golde; caused it straight to bee giuen too Euripides: and turning his face to the bolde begger, tolde him, that he was woorthy to craue it, but Euripi­des to haue it. Oh that our Courtiers [Page 38] of Ferara wholde remember this, and when such vnprofitable Leaches sucke at their flesh, bestowe the thinge which they begge vppon the learned. O­therwyse for my parte (though I be an ynche and a halfe, behind the best, yet an ace, at the least, before the worst,) I shall shortly be dryuen too stop bottelles with my bookes, and buye me a wallet.

The Romans bicause they had re­ceiued some hurt by fyre, thought it good to holde a candle before the Deuil, and giue vnto Vulcan the honor of a god, but shut him out of the Citie. And trust mee if I thriue no better by my simple trauel than I haue doone yet, I will reue­rence the Muses as longe as I liue, but banish then my studie for feare of after­claps.

Cleanthes liued in suche a miserable time, Poore Philo­sophers. that he was glad to turne his Phi­losophers Gowne too a Millers coate, and grinde for his lyuing; Mycillus as little regarded as hee, learned of his wyfe too beate Wooll; Diogenes as beggerly as eyther of bothe, A strange kinde of begging. iumpte at a Cruste, and fedde vppon Rotes; [Page] And seeing himself obteine so little when he requested, accustomed too craue suche thinges as he needed, of deafe Images, that knowing them, not to vnderstand his necessitie, through wāt of hearing; nor to be moued to pitie, for lacke of humanity, the repulse that hee tooke, might greeue him the lesse. Hard bones steeped a time in Ashes and Vineger may be easily cut with a VVeauers woofe; Iuory is softe­ned with barly Growte; somekinde of water eates into steele, but it was neuer my fortune with any confection to perce the hart of a stony Courtier. Thucidides thinketh it no shame for any man to con­fesse his neede, but they (I meane those of Ferara, whom I haue tryed, & speake it too thee, Philotimo, whom I trust,) if Philosophers catch them by the Elbow, say, they presume; if they shew them their pouertie, iudge thē impudent; and turne them of with some prety delayes, from morning to euening, from early to late, from childhood to manhood, from man­hood, to middle age, from middle age to dotage, from dotage too death, sending them poste, from Ferara too Florence, [Page 39] from Velona to Venice, from Caraia to China, from the middle of the earth, too the man in the Moone. Let Gentlemen come to seke recōpence, whose ancestors haue wasted theyr landes, and lost theyr liues in the Princes quarrell; they saye w ^t Antigonus that it is theyr fashion to reward men for that which they do them selues: Let a scholler approach & demaund a peny, they answeare, that a courtier dis­daineth to giue so little; if he aske a poūd, Philosophers ought not to take somuch: thus neither giuing much to the learned, for hindering their study; nor litle, for sha­ming of themselues; nor rewarding their Souldiers, when they are dead; nor re­garding their children, in whome they liue; Tully hath taught them to locke vp theyr Chest, vt id semper dent, quod liben­ter dant; whiche is indeede, neither one thing nor other. Wherein I might say that the very Heathens haue gone be­yonde them, which guided onely by mo­rall verrue, thought it their dueties to spend all their time in doing good.

In the court of Persia they had a crier euery morning to cal them vp, and warne them to looke very diligently vnto that which [Page] w ^t Mesoromasdes gaue them in charge; And what was that, but to honour theyr God, to gouern their countrey with good Iawes, to keepe of the enimie from inua­sion, & to reward euery man for his ver­tue? The three Graces. The Court ought to be the pallace of the three graces: the first is called A­glaia, of her brightnesse, or beautie, and that is Honour: The secōd Euphrosyne, of her modestie or wisdome, and that is Learning; the Thirde Thalia, of gen­tle entreatie, which is the very God­dnesse of courteous entertainement. And Seneca bringeth thē in daunsing a round, Lib. de benefi­tiis. 1. hande in hande, with smiling faces, that they might euer be geuing with a chear­full coūtenāce. Wherby you may gather how beautiful a thing it is in Courtiers, to be liberall, which is one of the pillers of theyr glory. For theyr nobility comes of theyr progenie, their wealth is the haruest of Fortunes flattery, theyr victo­ries are the fruits of their Souldiers va­liancie: The first, may quickly be blotted with vice, the next, may wither as fast with aduersitie; the last, is attributed too more then themselues; and all are subiect to sodayne chaunge. But the prayse of a [Page 40] benefite, the report of curtesie, the glo­rie that shineth in the woorkes of mer­cie, is all their owne, not lefte them by their ancestors, nor lent them by fortune, nor common to other, stil sounding their renowne with a golden Trumpet, buil­ding them vp such Trophees, such Tri­umphes, such Idols, such Monumēts, as neither wind shal shake, nor wether beat, nor water rot, nor fire consume, nor Foes deface, nor force diminish, nor clowds darken, nor time it self shalbe able to deuour.

I haue sette you downe twoo of those points, Philotimo, which I euer wished to be in a Courtier, Lerning & Liberali­tie: Flatterers too be driuen from Courte. The next is, to beware of Flatterers. For they with Polypus, w ^t Proteus, with Chamelions alter themselues into many shapes, many shadowes, many colours. Sometime they make themselues glas­ses of your conditions. Alcibiades at A­thens did hunt & hawk, & behaue himself pleasantly in company: At Lacedaemō he shaued his head, put on the robs of a scho­ler, & liued solitary: In Thracia hee bore vp his sword like a souldier, in Tisapher­ne hee liued like a wanton Louer, euer cutting his cloth too the fashion of them with whome hee was conuersaunte.

[Page] But Plato was the same man in the Court, that he was in the Vniuersitie; al one with Dion & Dionysius. The flatte­rers of Alexander caried their heades in their bosome, because he went stouping; of Dionysius, made them selues blind, when his sight was gone; of Plato, spred out their shoulders, because his were brode; of Aristotle, tript in their tonges, because he stammered. The cunning fou­ler, is clothed in fethers; the crafty raun­ger, in Deares skinnes; the Angler, sha­doweth himselfe with a Rocke; the flatte­rer ducks in a Friers Weede, for his owne aduantage. If thy nose be flat, they say thou art louely; if it be hooked, thē art thou kingly; if thou be black, they affirm thou art manly; if thou be faire, then art thou heauenly; if thou bee deformed, they make thee beautiful; if crooked, straight; if feeble, strong; if litle, great; if dwarfish, monstrons; if thou be but a hoppe on my Chumbe, as high as three hersloues, or stand on a Moulehill to looke into a mu­starde pot, they call thee a giant. When thou runnest, thou art Pegasus; when thou wrestlest, thou arte Hercules; [Page 41] when thou fightest, thou art Mars; when thou speakest, thou art Mercurie; when thou singest, thou art Apollo; when thou frownest, thou art Saturne; when thou chidest, Iupiter himselfe beginnes to thunder. The Sicilians ouerturned their owne state, whē the [...] soothed vp Dionysius crueltie, by the name of iustice; the Ae­giptians corrupted their commō wealth when they called Ptolomees faint heart the feare of gods. The Romans gelded the good gouernement of their countrey, when they flattered Antonius, turning his quaffing to myrthe, and his lust to frendship. When Caesar triumphed in o­ther mens blood, his Parasites sayde, he was half a god. When Caligula spoke like a foole in the Senate, Domitius gaue him the prize of eloquence, and Vi­tellius affirmed that he had laiē with the Moone. Anaxarchus perceiuing that Alexander for murdering of Clitus, be­gan to be troubled in his conscience, told him streight, that he had done well, be­cause a king is the image of God, and whatsoeuer God doth, proceedes of Iu­stice. When Tiberius the Emperour [Page] came to the Senate, a sycophant pre­sently started vp & accused him there, for hauing a care vnto his duetie; O Caesar, said he, though heretofore none durst tel you your fault, I am forced at this time to shewe it my selfe; you regarde not your selfe, you wearie your minde with many cares, and weare your bo­die with infinite labours, neuer resting by day, nor sleeping by night for our sakes. These kinde of people in short time, are able to make great men forget them selues. Therefore it shalbe good for Courtiers to sif [...]e them thorowly, to distinguishe them cunningly, and last of all willingly, to shake them off.

Maximus Tyrius, blaseth their Pro­perties in three points: In Vse, in End, in Affect of the mynde: In Vse, they are altogether vnprofitable, & like the Ape, which beeing vnable to keepe the house as a dogge; to drawe, as the Oxe; to ca­rie, as the Horse; is driuen by gesture to mooue delight: As by fetching a friske or twoo ouer the chaine, or imitating that which they see in vs, to procure laughter. Such a fellowe was Anti­phon, [Page 42] whom Dionysius slewe; and Ti­magines, whome Caesar banished the Court; For neither of them both, ap­plied their mynde to giue counsell, but behaued them selues like common Ie­sters, seeking onely to make those Prin­ces merie. Vnskilfull Painters, when they cānot expresse the beautie of things, botche it out with wrinckles & wartes, and store of freckles: And flatterers, whē they cannot perfourme the office of a freende, huddle it vp with ridiculous ge­sture. The Ende of their studie is to pro­fite them selues: No vermine breede, where they finde no warmth; no Vul­tures stoope, where they smell no pray; no flies swarme, where they see no flesh; no Pilgrime creepes, where there is no crosse; no Parasite lurkes, where hee findes no gaine. In Affect of the mynde, they are wonderfull hypocrites, hauing a cōtinual cōbat, & a pitcht feeld betwixt their wordes and their thoughtes, their tongues & their hearts, many times exercising the wrastlers, craft, who boweth his bodie to catch other on the hip; or the Fencers qualitie, which counterfeites [Page] a kinde of lying open, to take his aduer­sarie at more aduauntage. Such, affirme all those vices which they see in other, to be in them selues, & like vnto them that tame wilde beastes, frame their behaui­our to euery thing, that they perceiue them do, til by little and little they bring them close to their owne bente. Mardo­nius the Captaine, flattered Xerxes so long, that hee caused all Asia to take ar­mour, couered the seas with aboundance of shippes, by which the king tooke a very great ouerthrowe, was driuen by flight to saue him selfe, and the Syco­phant was one of the first that was slayne, they which giue so much credit to flatterers, They which [...]edite flatte­rers are com­pared to bra­sen pottes. make them selues no better than brasen pottes, bee they neuer so large of moulde, or weightie of metal, they are easily borne about by the eares. It were better for thee, Philotimo, in thy courting, to ryde a rough Colte without a bridle, than sweete lippes with a soft saddle: the one, if thou sitte not fast, will not spare to caste thee, but teache thee the better to looke to thy self: the other, whatsoeuer thou doest will ne­uer [Page 43] molest thee, but bloster thee vp in thine owne follie. Alexander was an­grie with Crisson, for giuing him leaue to outrunne him in course. One told Me­nedemus, that he was highly commen­ded by Alexinus; But Menedemus an­swered, that he did euer dispraise Alexi­nus. Antist [...]us Hercules, charged his sonnes, not to beleeue such, as they saw [...] too busie in lifting them vp. I will not denie, that Vertue by prayse is dee­per rooted, but flatterers come as little at vertue as they can. The minde is de­uided into two partes; the one is parta­ker of reason, which enclineth to vertue, and leanes to wisedome, the other is [...]ue fellowe vnto Sense, which cleaues vnto vice, and loues to be rickled. This parte is euermore scratcht by flatterers, who stand with their handes full of fuell, to encrease our fier, & are ready with their mouth to blowe the coles: they creepe so farre into your bosome by priuie en [...] ­ [...]hing, that I may compare thē to queasie meates; if you keepe them in your sto­make, they make you surfeite; if you cast them vp, they streine euery string of the [Page] heart at departure. Therefore resist them Philotimo, at the first, & if you perceiue them to beginne with commendation of your qualities to currie fauour, tel them with Pindarus, that thou hast already rewarded their trauell, because thy life doth not make them lyars.

The last and chiefest thing, Religion in Court. which I iudge to bee necessarie in Courtiers, is religion, which I shewed thee by Lac­tantius, to be the first thing that is requi­red in the office of Iustice: And Iustice is the piller of Princes Courtes. Com. in Eth. li. 3. cap. 13. But Foxius agreeing with Aristotle, affir­meth Religion to bee the mother of Iu­stice, and all other vertues: So that nei­ther true iustice may stande without reli­gion, nor religion without iustice. The name which the Greekes haue giuen to religion, [...] sheweth it to be the right wor­ship of God: If this bee corrupted, Iu­stice perisheth; And if Iustice shrinke, this goes to the wall. Therefore, al Phi­losophers going about too decipher a good common wealth, beginne with reli­gion, acknowledging a diuine nature chiefly to bee worshipped. Alexander made no warres against straungers for [Page 44] the riches of India, y ^e dainties of Media, the wyne of Chalidon, or the fishes of Hyrcanie; but to bring al nations to the obedience of his lawes, and worship of his Gods. Ptolomaeus Philadelphus, a learned Prince, thought Religion so ne­cessarie in his Court and countrey, that hee entertained the seuentie Interpre­ters with great curtesie, which were sent vnto him from Eleazar the high priest, and after they had instructed him seuentie dayes, hee returned them backe with riche rewardes. But bicause these were Heathens, which neuer came nere the marke, though they desired to cleaue the pinne. I will goe more roundly to worke, and bring God himself to pleade his owne cause.

Princes are the Images of God, & are called gods in sundrie places of y ^e scrip­tures, y ^t they might execute his wil vpon the earth. Al honour, all power, al pesses­siō, all authoritie, is y ^e gift of God, it is his worke that Princes rule, and their courtes flourish. Therefore Dauid willeth thē al to kisse the begotten sonne of God, [...]. which is, to embrace religion and throwe them selues down at the feete of Christ. [Page] It is impossible, for the henne to forsake her chicken, or the mother, the childe of her owne wombe: yet if the one or the other bee so vnnaturall too leaue their owne, Esay. 49. God will neuer forget his. In to­ken whereof hee hath promised by the mouth of his prophet, to make princes the fathers of his Churche, and their courtes, the verie nurceries of religion. Paule exhorting Timothe to pray for kings and great men, 1. Tim. 2. that we may liue quietly and godly vnder them, seemes by those wordes to attribute the patronage of the Gospell to the Court. If God doe shine brightest in his ministers, Ministers. whose tongues are the trumpettes of his will; to treade downe them, dishonoreth him; to stoppe their mouthes, eclipseth his glorie; to shoulder them out, displaceth him; to pinche them, nippeth him; to strike them, woundeth him; to rayle at them, reuileth him: All which inconue­niences quickly growe, where the Cour­tier like a good Aiax, doth not holde out his buckler, Iud. vlt. to couer Vlisses. Iosua calling the rulers of Israel together be­fore his death, chargeth them, bicause the [Page 45] Lord hath giuen them landes, which they neuer purchased; Cities, which they neuer built, Vineyardes, which they neuer planted; to serue him in holines and truth, which is religion. And when they had confessed the Lorde to be their God, vowing obedience vnto him, he pre­sently registred their promise in the booke of God, and erected a dumbe stone for a witnes of their beleefe, to crie ven­geance against them, if they slipt the col­ler. Doutles the bringing vp of Iosua with Moyses, Iosu. 1. was a good meane to make him a captaine to Gods people, whose word was appointed to be his di­rectiō. If courtiers borowe this clue, of a godly Theseus, to match with Chimaera and beare vp their swordes with Iosua in the Lordes quarell, Iordan shall drie for their armies to passe, their spies shall be harbored in the middest of Iericho, the Sunne shall stoppe to giue them victo­rie, and all shall prosper that they take in hande. Bicause the weapons of mi­nisters are prayers and teares, and the Church hath no authoritie to compell, it is the duetie of Princes by good lawes [Page] and statutes to establish religion, & force euery man to liue in order. Where this is foreslewed, the wrath of God is kind­led against the Court, & his plague ligh­teth on the whole coūtrie. Solomon had no sooner forgotten God, and fallen to Idolatrie, but God swore that he would teare the crowne from his head, disherite his sonne, and deliuer his kingdome to a stranger. Runne through the scriptures, you shall finde them very sharpely scour­ged, which went about to supresse Reli­gion. Ieroboam stretcheth out his hand against the Prophet, and it withereth. Ahab robbed God of his honour, empri­prisoned his messengers, and was slaine with an arrowe; Azahia, for flying to straunge gods is threatened death, & his souldiers consumed with sier from hea­uen; Herod, forgetting religion and dis­honouring God, is eaten with wormes. I haue often wondered with my selfe, Philotimo, knowing Princes to be pla­ced in their chaire by God, howe they dare suffer any wickednes, in the Court, which representeth the throne of his hea­uenly Maiestie: howe they can possibly [Page 46] blaspheme with that tongue which is gi­uen thē to honour him, how they presume with that hād to murder his shepheards, which they haue receiued to fight for re­ligion? In that wee haue abundance of worldly blessings, we are earthly; in that we frame our selues to the worshippe of God, we are made heauenly. The eies of brute beastes are turned downe to the earth, to seeke nothing but meat for their bellies: The countenance of man is lif­ted to heauē, to behold the glorie of God in his works, which hath made al things for vs; vs, for him selfe, that we might ac­knowledge his goodnes in the same, and honour him for it all the daies of our life. If we do not this, wee spend our time in beholding the earth, wee seeke nothing els but to garnish our bodies, or pamper our flesh, which maketh vs like vnto sa­uage beastes. Then what is the glory of a Courtier without religion? What is his gouernement without godlines?

If thou wilt prooue a good Courtier, Philotimo, depart from Ferara, the pit of Ignorance: the storehouse of greedi­nes; the palace of Flatterers; the slewes [Page] of Idolatrie, and trauell to Englande, where thou shalt finde a countrie, so go­uerned with good lawes; a people, so in­structed in the feare of God; a church, so reformed in religion; a Court, so learned, so liberall, so vertuous, so godlie, a De­bora, so victorious ouer Sisara, so thank­full to God, so dreadfull to the wicked, so beloued of the good, so iust in iudgemēt, so many yeeres quiet, that thou wilt dout whether thou shouldest thinke her Ma­iestie fortunate, in obedient subiectes, or pronounce the whole land to be blessed, for so good a prince. By this little sha­dowe of a courtier, which, as time will serue, I haue roughly drawne, cunning workemen may gather the breadth of his bodie. You may see by this, that he ought to be learned, bicause it is necessarie for them to knowe many things, which go­uerne many, and to bridle them selues when they sitte so high, the one cōfirmed, by the exāples of Alexander, of Darius, of Agamemnons eyes and head, of Crae­sus, of Philip, of Dionysius, and all those which receiued Philosophers into the court to be instructed by them: The o­ther [Page 47] layde open in Clitus, Lysimachus, Clearchus, and Caesar, which trauelled to fight for renowne in other countries, but neuer sayled into them selues, to boult out the power that God hath ouer them, and to confesse their owne weakenes which stand at his checke. To be liberal: by the comparison of a spring, the end of wealth, the daughters of nature, the doc­trine of Plato, the societie of man, the neede that themselues may haue ere they die, as Craesus, Cyrus, Antigonus, Cras­sus, the maner of Cyrus & Archelaus, the day peale of the Persians, the propertie of the Graces, and the glorie of bountie passing nobilitie of birth, honour in Court, riches of Fortune, or conquest in fielde. To banishe all Flatterers for their apishe imitation, their vnprofitable frēd­ship, their studie of gaine, and their hy­pocrisie. Last of all to seeke the aduaūce­ment of religion, by the dutie of a prince, by the examples of Alexander & Ptolo­me, by the image of God, the footesteps of Iosua, the authoritie of scriptures, and the happines of England, which enfor­teth me heere through want of skil in de­scribing [Page] the beautie of that Court, to shut vp my lippes: as the banquished painter, who finding him selfe vnable liuely to set out the sorowes of Niobe, was driuen to wrappe vp her head in a cloude.

Truely saide Ieraldy, In my simple iudgement, you haue shewed your selfe a verie good workeman. Alexanders counterfeite. For Alexander desired to haue his picture cut in brasse, and wrought in such metall by none but Lysippus, bicause none but he, did labour to expresse his Liōs lookes; others spoy­ling him quite of the shape of a souldier, blased the rolling of his eyes, and his a­morous gesture. Diuers haue payn­ted the Courtier in smoothe speeche, wittie replies, comely behauiour, excel­lent daunsing, which are like to the wan­ton gloses of Alexander, but thou hast cast his Idol with perfecter metall, in a good mould, and carued him out the face of a man. And Man of an old Poet is cal­led [...], Man, accor­ding to olde Poetes and Philosophers. which signifieth brightnes, accor­ding to your Etymologie of one of the Graces: Some Philosophers thought the substance of the mynde to be a light, [Page 48] bicause it is fearefull in the night, it is troubled with darknes, it shunnes it as a foe, and is comforted agayne when the daye peepes. Learning is often com­pared to light; Ignorance contrarie, likened to darkenes; In so much that when our Readers haue opened to vs, the thing that wee doubted, we saye that they haue giuen vs a great light; when any thing passeth our capacitie, we say, it is intricate, darke, and obscure. Thus if a Man be light, his mynde light, lear­ning light, and if it bee necessarie, that Simile semper appetat simile, like reioyce euermore in his like, what can be more naturall than the brightest myndes, to borrowe most light? the greatest Cour­tiers, to prooue best Clerkes? Thou hast rightly required them to bee libe­rall, bicause the bountie of the Courts is the Sunneshine of knowledge, with­out which Philosophers wyther away. Thou desirest thē farther to abādon flatte­rers, which like vnto moothes eate such holes in their garmēts, as cānot be seene. [Page] till the nappe of their cloth bee worne a­way. Last of all, thou thinkest it necessa­rie next vnto God, for Courtiers with authoritie in statutes and armour in field to mainteine the libertie of religion, con­firming thy purpose by holy scriptures, wherein thou shewest the practice of a good Captain, which furnisheth the rere­warde with his best souldiers, to renue the fight, when the first retire, and knitte vp the skirmishe with a canuazado. What is so common in this worlde, Orat. pro. Roscio Amerino. as breath to the liuing? graues to the dead? Sea to the Sayler? Shore to his wrack? Then what sharper punishmēt than this could the Romans deuise for such as had wilfully murdered their parentes, to enclose them quicke in a lethern sacke, and cast them into the Riuer Tiber? So they liue, while they may, that they draw no cōfortable spirit frō the heauēs; so they die, that the earth disdaineth to couer their carcase; so they floate, that they touch no water; so at last they are driuen by tide to the shore, that they are not suf­fered to rest on the sande, but are robbed of all these benefites at once. And what [Page 45] is so necessary in the Courte, as lear­ning to gouernment? regarde too friend­ship? Wealth too Nobilitie? Re­ligion too authoritie? Then tell mee, Philotimo, what greater plague can bee powred on Courtiers, for killing theyr parents, by despising theyr lawes, and loathing theyr Preceptes, then so too rule when they liste, that they bor­rowe no aduice from the toppe of know­ledge? soo too bury themselues in the depths of Securitie, that neuer a true friende maye come at their Coffin? so to swimme in abundaunce, that they feele no store? and in the ende so strangely to strike with the Swoorde, that it neuer bee grounded on the worde of GOD? but to be spoyled of all these ornamentes at once? The firste corrupted with ig­noraunce, the other with flattery, the next with greedinesse, the last with the want of the true woorshippe of GOD. These reasons inforce me too agree with you, Phialo, but me thinkes Syr Philotimo standeth in a Traunce, as though hee were blasted with chaunge of weather.

[Page] Philotimo smyling told hym againe that hee was not blasted, for hee neuer knewe Philaoes breath too bee so stor­mie, but was rather amazed at his craft, which according to his owne preceptes in the Method of rebuking, coulde touch him so neare and drawe no bloode. [...]eery beating Ari­stotle sayth that the Tyrrhaeni, when theyr seruauntes offended, accustomed to beate them to the sound of Instruments, that the pleasure of the one myght helpe too mitigate the payne of the other.

And Phialo, quoth hee, hath whyp­ped mee so pleasantly, that I am sory my punishmente was no longer. Where­at all three laughed hartily, and percey­uing Dinner brought in too breake of theyr talke, they fell too theyr victu­alles.

After they had dyned, Ieraldi accom­panied the two Gentlemen into the Ci­tie, too shew Philotimo, the Gallies that were then newly rigged, and laun­ched, ready too encounter the Turke. Thus takyng theyr Gundolet, they pas­sed for pleasure too and fro the streetes [Page 50] where with wōderful content Philotimo behelde the brauery of the Citie, so long with his eyes, that Fancy slypt downe in too the Corners of his hearte. For at a glimse hee espied suche a Sunne aloft, as dazeled his eyes with the blaze of her light.

Therefore pulling his hat somewhat ouer his forehead endeuouring closely to steale a looke, hee began too turne his head at one side, and roule vp his eyes too the Windowe againe.

Ieraldi quickly perceiuing the bente of his Bowe, and notying the Leuell, descried his marke, geuyng priuie aduertisement of the same too Phialo. Both of them cunningly dis­sembled the matter for a while, and were very well pleased too see the Hauke flye; wherein I marueile, whether was grea­ter, the delight of them that sprong suche a Partridge without Spaniels; or the daunger of him that soared so high with winges of wexe.

At the last Ieraldi seeing his feathers to scortch so faste, that the smoke arose, [Page] cast out the lure to make him stoope. And catching Philotimo by the sleeue, asked him, howe the maner of their building pleased his eye? So wel, quoth Philo­timo, that in my opinion the cunningest workmen in Italie may trusse vp their tooles, and though they thinke well of their painted sheathes, bee glad too come hither for a patterne. Were this Citie the Towne of Ephesus, I woulde iudge yon­der Pallace, for the beautie & brightnesse of the same, to bee the chiefe Temple of Diana.

I cannot blame you, saide Phialo, you haue taken the paterne of such a frame, as Art may imitate, but neuer be able to ex­presse. Therefore I pray you remember the speach your selfe vsed to mee concer­ning this place, take heede that to proue your woordes true, you make not your selfe an open President. Venus the Goddesse of this Citie was bredde in the Sea, and beates a Froth, close vp your eyes, and gaze no more, you know not what trouble suche Comets threa­ten.

Oh sir, answered Philotimo, Hi­meraeus [Page 47] the Poet did write against He­len, but at last he was glad too recant his sayings. Anacreon for one discourtesie to Cleobulus in his childhood, requited him with a thousande good woordes when hee grew too age. How much is Venus fai­rer then Helen? comelier then Cleobu­lus? whose goddeship if rashly I haue blasphemed, neither the Presents of Oracles, nor y ^e treasure of Ganges, nor the horses of Troy, nor the Virgines of Lesbia, nor the reuenues of my lande, nor the iewelles of my Chest, nor the offering of my blood, but onely the tongue that hath wounded her credite, can appease her anger. Ther­fore sith I haue not subscribed, I will re­uoke, ex nudo pacto non oritur actio, bare woordes are no lawful bargaines.

Dissemble not with your friendes, quoth Ieraldi, Poeticall fictions will not beate out your folly, nor the querkes of the law excuse such Apostasie before god. Signiora Polyphile, whom you behelde, is daughter vnto a deare friende of mine, if her behauiour were answerable to her beautie, or her life to her face; she might be a Paragon for a greater person. She [Page] is properly learned, she hath a smoothe tongue, and shee is very suttle in dispu­tation. I haue often assayed too winne her from loosnesse of liuing, and saue her soule: But I finde her soo fraught with Philosophie, and full of shiftes, that I carry away the woorste ende of the staffe. Therfore let me craue your cōpanyes a­againe too morrowe, I will send for her home to my-house too dinner, & try hom she is able to match with you, Phialo. I like your weapons & order of fight so well, that I haue no doubt you will ouer­come.

Certes, saide he, I was neuer Leon­tinus Gorgias scholer, too dispute any question on the sodaine, yet if I may haue the trueth on my side, little studie shall serue me too wrastle with women. Thus bringing Ieraldi backe to his house with many great thankes for theyr entertain­ment, they tooke theyr leaue till, the next day.

VVhat eyther Ieraldi did in theyr ab­sence or they when they were returned too theyr lodging, is the leaste parte [Page 52] of my meanyng too touche, because I haue taken this onely vpon me, too shewe the fruite of Phialoes conference among his friendes.

WHEN the daye was come, according too their promise, Philo­timo & Phialo want to the house of Ieral­di at dinner time, where they found the gentlewoman, & him in sober talke, Ie­raldi entertained them friendly, and re­quested Signiora Polyphile to do the like, who behaued her selfe so demurely in pre­sence, that they could not iudge her coun­terfatte, by stampe, or by sounde. There­fore Philotimo, boldly stepte somewhat nigher and like a young Courtier, mi­nistred talke on so smal acquaintance, as farre as he might, with honor and mode­stie.

But Phialo keeping himselfe aloofe, as one that had taken a Crowe too pull, stoode at one side, tyll Ieraldi had placed them all at the Table. Duryng the time of the Dinner, Philotimo dypt [Page 49] not his finger so ofte [...] in the dishe as hee fastened his eyes vppon Polyphile. Ieraldi perceiuing the gentleman come to his bias, told her, that Philotimo was deeply bound vnto her, whose countenāce seemed too feede him better than any of those dishes that were brought too the ta­ble. To whom the Gentlewomā with blu­shing cheekes and a softe speech replyed thus. Nutriens simile nutrito. You know, Sir Ieraldi, that Phi­losophers are alwayes of this opinion, that the thing which nourisheth, must e­uer be like vnto that which is nourished; and the nourished thing, to the nourisher. Therefore the Chameleon which liueth by ayre, hath nothing within but lightes and loungs. Then if this Gentlemās sto­mack agree better with my face, then with your cheere, my sauce than your [...]reate, there must needes bee a Sympa­thy, betweene his lyking and my lookes. And what are the lookes of a woman, but shadowes? on which if this Gentle­man feede so fast, I shall take him hence­foorth for a shape without substance.

It were strange, said Philotimo, too heare shadowes speake, or to see shapes [Page] without substance moue of them selues. But sith you haue shewed your self a phi­losopher, giue me leaue by Philosophie to make you an answere. Strabo & Pli. Some writers holde this opinion, that there lieth a kind of people at the riuer Ganges, which are called [...], men without mouthes; These are nourished with the sauour of flowers. Lacrtius. Democritus for sorrowe of his sisters mishap, going aboute too famish himselfe, was releeued three daies with the smel of new breade. Oribasius prote­steth that he knew a Philosopher in his time, which liued a while by the sente of honie, Cureus. And Melancthō is said to affirme that a Lecher in Germanie, condemned too pine vnto death for his offence, was susteined a longe time in prison, with the smoke of broiled meates, to prolong his daies in greater misery. Sūdry Philoso­phers take peper in the nose & fall out w ^t Aristotle, for standing so stifely in his owne conceite, that he wil not haue men to be nourishe with odoures. For Hippo­crates and Galen boldly pronounce, Aphoris. that the patient consumed is soonest restored againe by sauours. What force there is [Page 54] in shadowes, you may perceiue by those that gaze vpon excellent pictures so long that they haue no minde to their vitailes, but are filled with delight: : by reading fine bookes we forget our selues and let goe our commons. When we are busied in pleasāt pastimes, the night ouertakes vs, we know not how; then iudge mee no more to be but a shew, because I haue di­ved so wel w ^t your shadow, which is beter to me then the sauour of flowers, the smel of new bread, the sent of sweete honie, the smoke of rost meat, the view of faire pic­tures, the bookes of my study, or the plea­sure of sportes. Hippocrates deuiding the body men three partes, the first grose and earthly, our bones and fleshe; the se­conde liquide and watrie, our blood and humors; the third, subtile & ayrie, which is our spirits; affirmeth the laste too bee maintained by sauours. And it shall bee sufficient for me to say, that these dishes before vs, doe nourish my bodie, but too looke vpon you, quickeneth my spirites, and [...] my minde. If this will not serue to perswade you that I am some­what more than a shape; try when you please, you shall finde me a substance.

[Page] At this Polyphile began to smile, Ie­raldi & Phialo laughed in their sleeues till their heartes tickled. At last euery thing being taken away. Philotimo re­newed his talke again, and tolde them, that if they iudged him to bee rebuked for his amorous gloating, they were al to blame, which, quoth he, I will shew you as well as I can.

The skilfull that beholde the Image of Minerua, commende not the picture but the Paynter; we extoll not so muche the tast of our meate, as the Cookes cun­ning that seasoned it well; no man estee­meth his coyne for the stamp, but for the right metal when it comes to the touch. And I wonder not so greatly at the beautie of this gentlewoman, as at his workmanship that made the moulde, nei­ther doe I like her sweete face; that gli­stereth without, but loue her good quali­tties, that shine within. The Sunne doth not onely comforte oure heartes with his light, Beautiful faces are vertues buddes. but foster our grai [...]e in the Earth with his warmth. Riuers are cleere and fayre to beholde, but they wa­ter the soyle & make it fruitefull; Tree [...] [Page 51] are bethwackt with blossoms in springe, but those are the tokens of fruit to come. Thus when I do gaze on a comely body, I beholde with mine eyes the Garden of Vertue. The Mariner no sooner espi­eth his Marke, but hee knowes that he draweth very neere the lande; Vlisses re­ioysed in the smoke of Ithaca, but it was for the loue he bare to his countrie; The Hunter singleth the fairest Deere, but for the good meate he findes it to yeelde; And Socrates followed the brightest countenaunce, because he knew it to bee a true signe of Modestie. Mores animi sequuntur tempe­ratura corporis. Philosophers hold that the disposition of the minde a­greeth with the constitution of the body: whereby they iudged deformed crea­tures to haue some spot or other in their conditions; writing many bookes of Zo­pirus doctrine, who tooke vppon him by looking in our face to tell vs our faultes. But where the lineaments are all of iust proportion, euery parte of the bodye wroughtout of wax, and the face so beau­tifull, that Venus her selfe might blushe for shame; who is so rude, so igno­raunt, so sottishe, so vnleatned, to says, [Page] that sweet waters are distilled of weeds, Fine Cambrik made of hemp, English cloth spunne of haire: That straight per­sonages haue crooked manners, faire fa­ces foule vices, good complexions il con­ditions? doth not one Doctor tel you, that that which is beautiful is not hurtful, nor slippery, Max. Tyr. nor sinful, nor wretched? That loue is a vertue, an arte, a iust iudge? A vertue, in seeking the thing that is good: an arte; in gathering the substance by the shadowe: and a perfect iudge, in discoue­ring the mine, by the colour of the earth, boulting the truth, when he heares the Plea, discerning the partie, when he sees the person. Cyrus loued Aspasia for beautie, and the vse of her body; Pericles for learning and the light of her minde, the one her paramour, reioycing in plea sure; the other her scholer delighting in vertue. Hiperides the orator vsed the com­panie of many faire women, as Phryne, Myrrhine, Aristagora, Eleusine, And when Phryne was accused for lewdenes in Athens, and almost condemned, hee vsed no other defence in her cause, but speedily tore of her vppermost garment, [Page 56] closed her naked Brest too the Iudges, shewed them the comelines of her body, as though it were impossible, that so proper a piece shoulde haue a faulte: Wher­vpon the Iudges marking her well, and considering vprightely, that so greene a branche, must bewray good sapp; so gal­lant buddes, a glorious tree; so bright a shadowe, a blasing substance; so amiable a visage, louely behauiour; so perfect a creature, absolute manners; acquited her by sentence, and let her goe. O woorthy beautie, O learned Iudges, O notable vertue, O noble Iustice! What is he, that woulde not rather loose his robes, his seate, his authoritie, his office, than falsly suspect thee, or cal thee to the barre; rashly accuse thee, or giue out his verdite against thy maiestie.

Anytus and Melitus the whippes of Socrates, in all that euer they declared a­gainst him, neuer cast in his teeth that he was beauties bloodhounde; Aristo­phanes flouting him on the stage, though hee called him brabler, carper, & cauiller, neuer laide in his dishe, that hee loued [Page] to looke vpon glistering faces. Had ei­ther of them thought it to be a deformity, they had rung him that peale as long as their Clappers had beene able too wag. Beware Sir Ieraldi, and you friend Phialo, that you rob not beautie of her honor, nor spoil her of her ornaments, lest the day come, wherin you be inforced to turne your rippetes, to chaunge your copie, to lay your handes vnder her feete to please her, or to looke vpon that, that you shoulde not beholde, or to loue the thing that nature forbiddeth you to de­sire. Narcissus disdayning the beautie of a Nimph, pined away for his owne sha­dowe: Augustus that stopped his eares to Cleopatra, suffred the vanities of Ba­thillus: Alexander that refused to looke on the Ladyes of Persia, whilest they ly­ued, lamented their losse with teares when they dyed: Xerxes that puld away his eyes from the Virgins of India, the damsels of Media, the women of Caria, the dames of Lydia, the wiues of Ioniū, the faces of Helespōt: despised grapes, and gathered thistles; lothed honie, and eate gall; fled them, and followed Ama­stris [Page 57] his dauther in lawe.

Thus when you perceiue the blinde­nesse of those, that knew not the softest threedes to twist silke, the fayrest face to couer vertue; And when you consider the danger of those that desired not to learne it when they vnderstood it not, blame me no more for beholding this gentlewomā, it is not the lanterne of her beautie, that giueth light, though she be glasse; but the candle within, that maketh her shine, to the comfort of all that vse her well.

Ieraldi seeing Philotimo in such an heresie, tolde him that he little thought too haue taken vpp his Arrowe so farre from the marke; he requested their com­pany to exhort Polyphile to a better life, not to giue her a vayle to hide her [...].

Why, sayde the Gentlewoman, is it your fashion, to wink on the Eawe, and wurry the Lamb; to feast your friends, & beate them with the spit? Did you draw me so craftely with meate to the stake, to see me baited by these Philosophers? yet sith it is your pleasure, too try what I can alledge for my selfe, which liue as I liste, and serue my luste; you shall [Page] heare that reasō fightes on my side, ther­fore neither of these gentlemen ought to open his mouth against me, my face hath already musled the one, my tongue shall seale vp the others lippes. Minerua was said to stand with Menelaus in the mid­dest of his peril, and driue euery dart that was throwne at him, to the bulke of his Buckler; causing a skarlet sweate too to run downe his body like streames of blood, whereby his enemyes were e­uer deceiued: And I doubt not but Ve­nus her selfe wil strike in this quarel for my defence, rebating the edge of mine enemyes swoordes, blearing their sight w ^t the shadowe of blood, when the vpper­most parte of my skin is not rased. This hath caused many too chase vs so farre, thinking vs wounded when we tooke no hurt, that they haue not beene able to re­couer them selues. What are all the ar­gumentes of the Stopckes? haue they not laboured so much against vs, to weed [...]ut affections, that they pull vp the coc­kle and Corne togither? Haue they not so rashly inueighed against pleasure, that they leue no place for honest delight? haue [Page 58] they not so studied to drowne vice, that they quench out the sparkes of euery ver­tue? haue they not so tyed our life to their owne imagination, that nature in no­thing must be followed? O Ieraldi, oh gentlemen, when I enter into cōsiderati­on of this little worlde, which is in our selues, when I heare the voyce of Philo­sophie cry out against them, & the trum­pet of nature proclame them traitours, how can I but seek my wonted delights, or gape after pleasure, the foode of this life. Nature hath taught vs, in plentiful orchardes, to taste euery tree, and chose the best: in pleasant fields to slip, off the fayrest of euery stalke: and are not wee think you, placed in this world to try eue­ry gallant, & take what we like. This is the race we ought to runne, this is the mark we ought to shoot at, this is the end which Nature sendeth vs out too seeke. Little children are no sooner borne, but they sprawle to this, crowing pertely when they obtaine it, crying & bellow­ing when they finde the contrary. In ri­per age euery man toyleth for some pro­fit, & profite is pleasant whē it is gotten. [Page] Doth not any man thinke you rather de­sire to treade the smoth ground, than the rugged stones; to saile in a calme, then in a storme; to liue in quietnes then in trou­ble? and what is this to be counted but pleasure? you wil say peraduenture that it is so, but the happines that we are bound to seeke, must be won by vertue, & desired for it self. What if I shew you that plea­sure is such? All that we doe, all that we go about in this life, is to purchase plea­sure, which I thinke somtime to be felte in torment: as Caius Marius, that suffe­red the knottie flesh to bee cut from his legge with intollerable paine, not chan­ging his countenance, because hee hoped for ease to come. Thus the paine that we suffer to shun a worse griefe, is very high pleasure. Let vs suppose some one or o­ther to be greeuously oppressed with an­guish of body and mind, neither remem­bring any pleasure past, nor hoping for any to come heereafter, can there be any greater miserie? Contrary, to him in whom all pleasures of body and minde abound, which delighteth in that he hath tasted already, reioyceth in that which is before him, & hopes for the like or grea­ter [Page 59] to come, can there be any thing more to be wished? can there bee any swee­ter felicitie? Louers disdayned and dasht out of countenaunce, when they neither taste of releefe, nor see any hope of grace at all, say that they feele in them selues a hel, but he that obtayneth the ioyes he de­sired, affirmeth himself to swim in Hea­uen: whereby I gather, that hell is a sor­rowe, sorowe misery, heauen a pleasure, and pleasure happines. Vices are to bee fled because of torment; & is not vertue to be sought for pleasures sake? we like of Phisicke, not for the art, but for the ende; the end is health, which easeth our paine and bringeth pleasure: we delight in sea­faring, not for the cunning of guiding shippes, but for the commoditie which it breeds: and commoditie is handmaide to lady Pleasure. What thinke you of e­uery vertue in general? is not wisedom a knowledge of things to be folowed, when they are good; to be eschewed, when they are naught? If they bee good, they are pleasant, if naught thē are they yrksome. Wisdome reformeth our maners, orde­reth our life, ruleth our countrie, resisteth [Page] our enemie, taketh vp discord, planteth a­greement, turneth out malice, bringeth in friendship, and knitteth vs together in loue and amitie. O what a delight, what a pleasure is this? Temperance is a ver­tue which teacheth vs by reason howe to bridle affections & too gouerne our selues in the middest of our pleasures. Fortitud consisteth in yeelding our neckes too dan­gers yok [...], bearing our burden without grudge, and gaging our heades too the Hatchet without grone: which is doone, eyther that our selues by this might liue in quiet, and reckon vp too our friendes with infinite ioye, what pykes wee haue passed, what perilles we haue valiantly ouercome: So Aeneas comforteth his Souldiers with this, Hac olim meminis­se tuuabit: We shall delight to thinke on these troubles an other day: or to deliuer our coūtry & purchase fame which ticke­leth our heartes in sharpest anguishe whē we conceiue what pleasures shal grow to our friendes by our deathe, and what ho­nour we shal haue amōg succeding ages. Thus Scaeuola presented his body to the fire. Curtius hurled himself into the gulf, [Page 60] and Iphigenia was contented to be sacrificed. Iustice regarding the common weale, geueth to euery mā his own, whose duety is to minister lawe for the mainte­naunce of right, & suppressing of wrong. By taking no wrōg, we escape the iawes of sorow & misery, by enioying our owne, we liue in pleasure.

These foure are the springes whence euery vertue begins too flowe; Pleasure the Sea, too which they runne, & where all of them ioyntly doe ende their course. Rhethorike, Logike, Philosophie, Mu­sicke, all Artes, all Sciences, are refer­red too this, that they might profite, and bring vs pleasure. Howe triumpheth the Oratour, when he seeth the Client deliue­red by his tongue? how laughes the Lo­gitiā, whē he perceiues his enimy driuē to a blank? how smiles the Philosopher to himself, when he hath sifted the secrets of hidden causes? Howe leapes the musi­tion, whē he beholdeth men rauished with his melodie? The beasts of the earth, the fishes of the Sea, the foules of the ayre, the Sonne, the Moone, the course of the Starres, the foure Elementes, [Page] the whole worlde was made for our vse, & this vse is the roote of al our pleasure; Our speach is giuen vs too increace ac­quaintance: acquaintance maketh vs de­light in cōpany, which banisheth sorowe, heauines, disqu [...]etnesse, solitarines: all which if we shun, we liue in plesure. Our eyes present euery delectable shadowe to the minde, but when they view any oug­ly shape, any monster, any enemie, that may hurte vs any way, or diminishe our pleasure, our haire stāds, our hart throbs, our body shakes, our sense fayles, our limmes stiffen, out wits faint, nature her selfe starts vp affrighted, and swelleth a­gainst it, til she find it remoued out of our way. The like may be said of hearing, smelling, taste, and touch. Doe not our eares drawe vs too mirth, driue vs from mourning? Do not our nosthrils teach vs to walke in sweet gardens, shun the foule streetes; to smel to the Rose & burne the Hemlock? hath not our taste sufficiently instructed vs to like of sweete meates, to loth bitter potions; to take the pomegra­nat, & leaue the crab? are we not warned by outwarde feeling (which is natures [Page 61] theefe scout against our enimies) to clap handswith pleasure as a perfect friend; to shun the contrary as a fooe? Too this ende haue wee receiued handes, too thrust away euery thyng that would hurt vs, & to pull to vs all that wee see might pleasure vs. To this ende hath nature made vs feete, to flye from the thing that might displease vs, and to followe what­soeuer shall most delight vs. Therefore were the kinges of Persia iudged happy, because they spent the Winter in Baby­lon, the somer in Media, the Spring in Susa: seeking continually too liue in those places, that were most pleasāt. This per­swadeth me fully & not w ^tout ground, y ^t no man which hath any wit, any learning, a­ny manners, any curtesis, any feeling of nature, or pricke of conscience, any feare of the Gods, or sparke of grace; seeing all vertues, al arts, al actions of this lyfe amed at pleasure, as theyr end, the world made to maintene it, euery part of the bo­dy to desire it, and nature her selfe too ab­horre the contrary, can deny a life so led, to enioy perfect happinesse. Then what misliketh Ieraldi in Polyphile? what can [Page] these Gentlemen rebuke in me? I lyue agreeable to nature, that is, in pleasure. Where I looke I like, where I like I loue, what then?

Polyphile thus ending her Apologie, eache geuing place to the other to reply, they were euery one tonguetied, Philo­timo looking vpon Phialo, Phialo on Ieraldi, he vpon both, and she on them al. But Ieraldi perceiuing Phialo dumbe, broke silence, asking him whether he had taken in the flagge of defiance againe, or as vtterly vanquished, yeelded himselfe this Gentlewomans prisoner, because he withheld his speache so long, seeming rather to geue grounde then to resist.

Syr answered Phialo, these argu­mentes are couched together briefly; but they were neuer so quickly gathered as they haue beene vttered: Therefore I thinke it my duetie too consider the lon­ger of them before I reply: for questi­ons are sooner propounded then they can hee answeared, demaunded in fewe [Page 62] wordes, scant absolued in many. When one asked Zeuxis, why he was so long in drawing a counterfaite: hee said indeede that he was long, but because he woulde haue it continue long. I haue all this time withdrawne my selfe, too bee­thinke me the better what to speake, & to woorke my colours in perfecte Oyle. Where the enimie comes in a coate of Steele, it is good for a Souldier to whet his swoorde. The wrastler many times chaungeth his place, but hee dooth it too seeke out footing. Horatius fighting alone too three, turned his backe to se­uer his foes, and afterwardes slewe them one by one, If you see me go back, it is but too choose a place too fight in: perswade not your selfe that I meane to flye, for the Ramme retyreth, that hee might geue the greater shocke. I am not so affraide of theyr reasons, as asto­nished with theyr folly, whiche builde vp theyr Fortresses on bryttle ground see­kinge too washe the face of a blacke Moore white, whose coulour no sope will [Page] take away, or too make a silke purse of a Sowes eare that when it shoulde close, will not come togeather.

Syr Philotimo is so bewitched with this Gentlewomans lookes, and doteth so muche in Socrates loue, that he thinks it impossible to find dustie corners in gal­launt houses, counterfait stuffe, in a faire stampe, Wooden Swoordes in Iuory sheathes; apishe deformities in cloth of Golde. They whiche haue trauailed Germany, finde that theyr best VVines grow on the hardest rockes, I haue seene black earth beare a white flower, the vn­profitable Thorne carrieth as trim a blo­some as the Apple. Thus ought wee not to iudge our Gold by the colour; nor the qualities of women, by theyr faces. Whē any one of you seeth mee weare a faire shoe, no man knowes where it wringes me, but my selfe; none feele the harde­nesse of the flinte, but he that strikes it: none are able to iudge of womens quali­ties, but such as trie them. If you be­holde the vertue of this Gentlewoman by her coūtenāce, why do you not the like in goodly pictures, for they are beautiful? [Page 63] Haue you not learned that the substance of the minde, cannot bee discerned by outwarde sense? Solus animus de animo iudicas. or that nothing but a minde, can at any time bee arbiter of the minde? then howe is it possible, sir, for you, with the sight of your eye, whiche reacheth no farther then her face, to take an Anatomie of her conceite [...]? Whē ver­tue woorketh, I graunt you then she is knowne by her deedes as the tree by the fruite: for when we perceiue the Magi­strate too geue vnto euery man his owne, wee say hee is iuste; and when you haue seene this Gentlewoman gouerne her steppes by the lyne of vertue, say shee is modest. Geue not the praise of a iudge to his Scarlet gowne, nor the cōmendation of women, to the colour of their cheekes. The Bay is euer greene, but w ^tout fruit, onely presenting a sweete sauoure to our nosthrills; the gaye Platan tree spreedes a broade leafe, and yeeldes nothing else but a shadow for Epicures. Argeus hearing some commend the beautie of o­ther mens wiues, tolde them that they ought not so rashly to shoote their boltes: for such shoulde be knowen too none, but [Page] their husbandes. Crates beholding the golden Idol of a strumpet set vp in Del­phos, said it was done to nourish the wā ­tōnes of the Greeks. Therfore I beseech you, Philotimo, to leaue the praise of this Gentlewomans face too such as are best acquainted with her conditions. And if you perceiue that Nature hath bestowed some cunning vpon her moulde, thinke it is done, but to flatter the Venetians with her image.

Mustering togeather the examples of Pericles and Aspasia, Hyperides & his barlottes; and I wote not whom; you are like vnto him that wauing and tottering in a greate preace, leanes vnto them too staye himselfe, which are borne too the groūd as fast as he. The Sonne sheweth greatest, when we beholde him through a clowde: he that looketh through a peece of redde glasse, iudgeth euery thing that be viewes to be redde: And Phisitions to the likenes of this affirme, that corrupte vapors mounting from the body vp too the heade, and distilling agayne, from thence to the eyes, when they haue there mingled themselues with the watrye [Page 64] crystall, which receiueth the shadowes of thinges to be seene, make all thinges appeare of the some colour, which re­mains in the humor that ouerspreads our sight, as if it be melancholik, euery thing seemeth black; if it be flegmatike, white; &c. Philotimo trou­bled with a suf­fusion. Then thinke not, Philotimo, but you shalbe deceaued, if you beholde the man­ners of women throughe the clowde of their beawtie, the glasse of their brauery, or the grosse humors of fancie that bleare your eyes. If you doe but imagine that e­uery fatre face hath faire conditions; be­cause that

Vertue shines brightest in a gallāt face, Somnium Vigi­lantis. you bewraye that Eclipse in your way­ning iudgement, Cureus de Sens. lib. 1. cap. 36. whiche Philosophers haue called The waking mans dreame; for that, many times doeth happen thus: Men thinking verye earnestly of their friendes, or any thing else that they haue seene, or read, when they are drowned in the bottome of this conceyte, the minde plodding cōtinually on the sāe, this vehe­ment [Page] combate of imagination seareth the spirites, which geue suche a pushe vntoo common sense, Louers dreames. that it flowes too the eie, and planteth the Idol of the thing ima­gined before our sight. Thus are Melan­cholicke louers in the middest of theyr dumps deceiued with the shadow of their Ladies, perswading them selues for the time, that they viewe the partie, whom fancy enforced them but too dreame on. Thus Geometers deeply considering of theyr proportions, beleeue sometimes that they see them liuely drawne out in the aire. And thus you coining to your self a Phaenix of Arabia, that is, vertue at no time separate frō beautie, sodenly iudge that you see it in Polyphile. You aledge for your purpose, that the qualities of the minde, agree with the constitution of the body, which beeing thus construed that where choler aboundeth, we are testie; where melancholy, madde and furious; or that tender cōplexions, are very melch harted; I will not deny it: but too saye that where ther is neuer a wemme in the cloath, there can bee no deformitie in the wearer; where the body hath no spot, the [Page 65] minde is vtterly voyde of blurre, I mayt not alowe it. Therefore throwe downe the loue of Socrates, whose heastes are no lawes, whose wordes are no Oracles, whose authoritie is no priuiledge for your folly. Too beleeue whatsoeuer Philoso­phers hold, or snatch it vp for a Square too fashion our lyfe, is too credite euerye thing, to examin nothing, nor at any time to iudge vprightly; but as bruite beasts. too follow the heard, not whither our du­tie wils vs to go, but whither soeuer the formost leades.

Phialo then turnyng himselfe too Polyphile, desired her to geue him leaue as freely too aunsweare her, as hee had already replyed too Philotimo: For (said he) I am not of Herodotus minde, that thinketh women to lay aside honesty, when they put of theyr Garmentes, and though you may seeme in the eies of chast beholders, both too caste away the attire of a sober matrone, and too put on the shape, of a monstrous Epicure; yet I hope too touche you soo neare before I leaue you, that you shall bee enforced to strike Saile to the trueth. All your defence [Page] cōsisteth in the inclination of our nature, which you say hath framed euerye thing for our delighte, and taughte vs her selfe like a cūning Schoolemaistresse, to fetch our full swindge, in wanton desires. You iudge vs condemned by her, too taste e­uery dish & feede vpon that that likes vs best. But doe not you know that a great Riuer cutte into manye Creekes, is made shallowe? that loue dispersed in­to many Streames, runnes low? thinke not that little Infants assoon as they are shotte into the worlde, seeke after plea­sure, when they crie for a teate; but crane foode, as instructed by nature too nourishe themselues.

You abuse the woorde Pleasure very muche, when taking it sometime in one Sense, sometime in an other. Nowe fleeting aboue, then diuing to the bottome, and with the Hedgehogge, ne­uer abiding that quarter, where the wind blowes, you are able too drawe the sim­ple awrye, and make them angle for but­terflies in a drie ditch. Wee muste not fight loosely as the wild Scythiās, which saile out on the suddayne with terrible [Page 66] showtes; brandishe their Dartes, with inuincible courage; and daring not tary the cheefest brunt, presently squatte them­selues in their boggs. It shalbe my prac­tice in this quarrell too define the same pleasure which you mainteine, that fin­ding by this, where the fielde is pitchte, I may bring my force to your maine bat­tell. Definition of Pleasure. Pleasure is a sweete tickeling of Sense, with a present ioy. Being a tick­ling of the sense, you may see that to haue no disquitnesse, cannot bee pleasure: For stocks & stones feele no trouble at all, yet I thinke you wil not say that they liue in pleasure. To be cured of anguishe cannot bee this, because it is no other wise then a deliuerie from payne. In that it is bredd of a presentioy, it neither consisteth in re­membrāce of pleasures past, because they are fled; & cānot be felt: nor in hope of any such like to come, because we taste them not yet, & they may bee preuented. What plesure cā you find, if being in Russia in y ^e middle of winter w ^t a needle in your hand neuer a threed about you, you remember strait you had clothes on your backe, and were warme inough in Venice, in the middle of Sommer? What auayleth it, [Page] yf thirsting now, you call to your minde that you drunke yesterday? or presently ready too famishe for hunger, you per­swade your selfe there will bee corne in Haruest? Againe if pleasure bee the tick­ling of sense with a present ioy, what de­light had Marius in the Surgeons knife? Sceuola in tormentes of the fire? Curti­us in the botome of the Gulfe? or Iphi­genia in the Butchers Axe? Forsooth sir, say you, I ment, that for their friends sakes, they conceiued a pleasure in theyr mindes; alas then, say I, you muste not dreame of Chaulke when you speake of Cheese. That which other enioy belongs not toe vs, and when wee are dead, the praise that is geuen vs, neuer comes too our eares, except you assure your selfe. that with Seleus our soules shall forsake vs a while in a Traunce, and after they haue compassed heauen, too learne some newes, bee blowne intoo our bodies a­gaine through a Squirte. But you trifle in this, let vs shake vp, our kenell a little better.

VVisedome, Iustice, al vertues, all Artes, all that we doe in this life, leuels, say you, at nothing but pleasure. Can [Page 67] you make suche a hotchpotche of vice and vertue, that eache with the other shall both agree? that contraries shall nestle togeather in one body, one part, at one instant? The pleasure that is got by vertue is an honest delight of the minde, reioycing in nothing but that whiche is good: Vertue ameth not at pleasure. yet is it not that which vertue see. keeth, for the countryeman soweth his Grayne too reape the fruite, though he gather the flower, that growes vp with it: And we exercise vertue not for plea­sures sake, but to do good; refusing not the pleasures that spring vp w ^t it, as flowers with corne, and follow it continually as a shadow the body: neyther do they please vs because they delighte, but delighte because they please. Your louers whenso­euer you frowne, descend into hell; when you smile, are carried with winges in too heauen; yet neither of them both are out of Venice, Poets sain Iupiter to haue two barrels in heauen, the one of weale, the other of woe: which he disperseth a­broade at his pleasure: If your beautie haue drawen Iupiter from heauen in a shewre of raine, compelling him by loue [Page] too resigne his office vnto you, that ope­ning the barrelles of blisse and bale, you mighte gouerne the liues of men as you list, torment and relecue, scourge and re­lease, set vp and throwe downe whomso­euer you will,

These are the frantike inuentions of Heathen writers, w ^t if they bee wrought, will not holde the hammering. You must not thinke your sweete face to make you perfect, nor beleeue whatsoeuer your su­ters speake. Because that they say, they burne, will you thinke their bodies are set on fire? if they dreame of your hew, that it is heauenly, is there no hoe, but you will shine in youre brightnes among the stars? These are Hyperbolees to flatter you, w ^t they cōmonly speake in the midst of their passion, when their wittes are a woolgathering. All our actiōs by your o­piniō are directed to pleasure. Tel me gē ­tlewomā what you think of other natiōs. The Parthiās are taught frō their youth to shoote & too darte, the Heluetians too follow the march of the drūme, the Ger­mans to ride & tosse a great steed, the La­cedaemonians [Page 68] to receiue their skin ful of stripes: is this for pleasure? I doe not re­mēber that euer I delighted to bee horst, ouer the forme when my self was a boy; if you finde any suche pleasure in stripes, I wold you were married to sōe mā of Thra­cia where by the custō of the coūtry they beat their wiues too this day. What cā be so fond as to seeke that in this life w ^t wee ought to shun? To bee ouerruled by that which becōes vs to maister? to be seruāts to pleasure that shoulde be our slaue? too make that our blisse, which Cooks, which Phisitions, which women may geue, and which fortune at witch may take away? Aristippus was iump of your opiniō, see­king onely sweete meat for his belly, & a Saint for his bed: wherein if we followe the print of his feete, No differeuce betweene man and beast. I finde that we dif­fer not from sauage beastes. They knowe eche other as well as we, they vnderstād themselues likewise as well as wee, they seeme too talke, they seeme too laughe, when pricking vp their eares, lowing, neying and fawning they expresse their ioy; they seeke to their sexe for some en­crease, which is a token of mutuall loue, [Page] they followe that which they knowe will profite them, they flie from the thing that they finde to hurt them; whereby they do shewe some sparks of reason, making a difference betweene good and euill. So suttle are they, that wee finde them many times too craftie for vs; so wise that they gather in Sommer, too serue them in VVinter; so cunning, that the Spider in her webbe, the birde in her nest, may seeme too geue vs instruction of building; so ciuill, so obedient, that we are no more diligent to serue one prince, then euery hearde is readie too followe one leader, euery swarme of bees, to ho­nour one king. Elephantes are reported to be so curteous, that they bring strayed passengers into theyr way; so witty, that they vnderstand the speach of those peo­ple with whom they liue; so skillful, in the moouing of the heauenly bodies, that by bathing them selues in running wa­ters, they bewray the approch of the new Moone; so mercifull, that one of them in Rome catching a boy y ^t had pricked his nose with abodkin, tooke him vp presētly w ^t his snowee, shoke him aloft to put him [Page 69] feare & laide him downe softly againe w ^t out hurt; Dion. last of al, they seeme so attached with knowledge of God, that eighteene of them beeing [...]ine at a triumph in the Theater of Rome, the rest, by running aboute the place with a pittifull rore, mournfully tossed their snoutes vpp too Heauen, as though they accused the cru­eltie of man, or cryed for reuenge of their fellowes blood.

By what Cognisance then shall wee be knowen from beastes? [...] est, quis­que. Plato did not think a man to be a reasonable creature, consisting of a soule and a body, but a reasonable soule, vsing the body as his bondslaue. Aske Aristippus why we are borne? he will say for pleasure; Demand Anaxagoras, his answer shalbe, that we might looke vppon heauen; the one fol­lowes that, which is common to vs with bruite beastes; the other robbeth blinde­men of their commodity, because they are not able to see the starres. The difference betweene man and beast. Therefore taking the opinion of Plato, That euery mans selfe is but his soule, let vs ac­knowledge from whence we came, that is, from God, the giuer of life; And sath [Page] we haue receiued this benefit at his hāds, it is our duetie to shew our selues thanke­full by seruing him. He hath made vs, hee hath redeemed vs, hee, hath sanctified vs to his owne selfe, whatsoeuer we are, wee are the woorke of his hands, the image of himselfe, wee are altogeather his, and not our own. This is the marke we must beare in our forheades, to be knowne from bloc­kishe and brute creatures: they seeke for nothing but that w ^t is earthly, wee must desire the thing that is heauenly; they are sensible bodies, we reasonable soules; they serue their bellies; we our God. O Poli­phile, Womens pride. where is the life which you require? what is become of Sabina, which neuer dreaming of this, but drowned in wanton­nesse vsually bathed her selfe in the milke of fiue hundred shee Asses, to preserue her beautie? How is Galeriaes sight daseled with the pompe of this worlde, which scor­ned the golden palace of Nero, as not cu­rious enoughe, too shrowde her carkase? Beware you seeke not so much to pranke vp your selfe, that you forget God. Cle­opatra was thought of some writers not [Page 70] to bee slayne with venemous snakes, but with the same bodkin y ^t curled her heare Bridle the wantonnesse of your speech, Xiphilinus. Womens be­haniour. & the ouerlashing of youthfull dayes. Post­humia was accused of lewdenesse, because she was seene but to be merrie in compa­nie, and although she had very wel cleared her selfe, Minutius returned her home with this clause, that her tongue shoulde neuer be woorse then her thought, her ge­sture no wantonner then her life. The wo­men of Calcedon neuer shewed vnto strā ­gers any more then one cheeke; the wife of Hieron was acquaynted with no bodies breath, but her husbandes; the women of Egypt did weare no shoes, because they shoulde neuer bee gadders abroade; the Damselles of Beotia that day they were married, had the Axeltree of their coaches burnte at their doores, that wanting the meane to carrye them out, they might learne by the same too abide at home. Lysander refused the riche Garmentes that were sente out of Sicilie to his daugh­ters, because hee feared suche a present wold be a greater spott to their minds, thē [Page] an ornament to their bodyes, disfigure them sooner than become them.

Beholde the sweete cuppes that haue made you drunke, are kepte from their lippes that intend to be modest. You vse your Glasse to turne vp your locks, that you mighte please the gazers eye; other stand tooting in them to this ende, that if they be faire, they blemish no iotte of the same with vice; if they bee foule, they a­mend it w ^t vertue. You, like the moone, shine brightest of all, when the Sunne is away; they glister most in their husbāds presence; you are a glasse for euery Gal­lant, smiling with them, mourning with them, frowning with them, and what cheere soeuer you perceiue in their face, representing the same in your hollowe lookes; they only reioyce and weepe with them, with whome they are growne into one fle she, you are a shadowe to euery lo­uer, mouing with them, from place too place, and cleauing to no particular bo­dy; they like true geometricall lynes, are neuer pulde from their bodyes but by death, neuer seene abrode without their stay, neuer founde in the streetes without [Page 71] their husbandes. You, make your belly, your God; your luste, your heauen; your pleasure, your blisse; and hunt greedilie for suche delightes, as though they bee drawn with a twine threed, cānot be kept with a Cable rope, for they houer like fe­thers in the wind, & are blown away like chaff w ^t euery blast. So dāgerous a sea is our delight, that in euery calme we feare a storme, in euery storme, wee are swal­lowed quick; in euery case, wee looke for paine, in euery paine, we pine to death, in euery peace, we dout a broyle, in euery broyle we goe to the potte. Philip win­ning the garland at the games of Olim­pia, when tyding was brought him too encrease his ioy, that the same day Par­menio his Captaine had foyled his ene­mies, & his Queene was deliuered of a young prince, cast vp his hands vnto hea­uen, desiring God to dash those pleasures but with some little mishappe. Howe vaine was the blisse of Scabius Apicius, which after his longe and delicate fare, casting an account of his substance, to see how much he had spent on his bellie, sin­ding, no more then two hundred and fifty [Page] thousand groates left, flew himslfe that he might not die for hunger? What ple­sure had Vitellius in all his banquettes, when casting vp his gorge assoone as hee had eaten; he was saide too bee sustained with the passage of his meates? You e­steeme this life for a wonderfull pleasure & a great felicity, yet Caracalla shauing his bearde, glutted at his boorde with the dainties of Antioche, cried out that hee tooke very great paynes, suffered the as­sault of many perilles, & rebuked the Se­nators for their idlenes.

Is it not against nature too lay suche weight on her necke, that she sinke vnder the burden? to alter her course, contra­ry to kinde? to wishe for roses in Win­ter? snowwater in Summer? artificiall gardens on the toppe of our houses? To seeke a newe hunger when we are satisfi­ed? to prouoke thirst again whē we haue drsik? to deuise such cookery of our selues as shal make vs to feede at al seasons? to quaffe euery moment? too snort at highe Noone? to banquet at Mydnight? Na­ture in euerye Treature else sheweth her selfe too be her owne bulwark: & because [Page 72] that neere is our Coate, neerer our skin, we loue our freendes well, but our selues better; euery thing is committed too the custody of it selfe. Marke howe the seede doeth tender it selfe, when it creepeth first out of the grounde in a soft blade, how it afterwardes stiffeneth to a stalke, how it hardeneth the eare; how it locketh vp e­uery grayne in his huske, and sendeth out prickles to keep of smal byrdes from deuouring the same. When the foale is cast, it neuer leaues sprawling till it arise to shift for it selfe. Children are no sooner on tiptoe, but they reach to the wal to stay themselues vp for breaking their face, if they trust to their feete before their time. Shall we seeke our own safetie when we are greene, and surfeite with pleasures when wee are gray? can wee creepe too a stay too lift our selues vpp, and not leane to the same when we are alofte? Doe we cherishe our selues when wee are grasse, and yeelde too our enmies when we are corn? Whē nature is serued wee sucke no longer, whilest wee are young; and shall we chocke our selues w ^t variety of dishes [Page] when we are olde? Leaue the Epicure at his table, let it be furnished with all ma­ner of Cates, Let Ganimedes fill him the Cup, let Beautie send out her daugh­ters to beare him company, let Apollo tickle his eares with the Lute, let the Muses be charged to soūd in the seruice, and the Graces themselues to wayte on his trencher, let him heare nothing, but too delight him; touch nothing, but too please him; see nothing, but to rauish him; Is this the happines that you commend? are none but the Birdes of this fether in blisse? how wretched are wee then, that neuer came neere it? They pamper them selues with a little ease, wee accustome our bodyes to labour and toyle; they can­not abide the sting of a flea, we beare of the stripes of our enemyes clubbe; they, like to fatte Oxen, are soonest felde, wee graze without hurt on the bleakest cliffs; To bee shorte, Polyphile, Harpies shall sweepe the meate from their trenchers, Heauen shal thūder out plagues against them, death shall finishe their ioyes in anguish, when nothing shall happen too vs vnlooked for. If you place not your [Page 73] pleasure in your dishes, nor in your Mu­sick, nor in your wayters, nor in the be­holding of your guestes, for

But to haue the vse of that that your eye likes & your heart loues, I graūt you may ioye in the company of men, but I iudge they haue litle delight in you. In som coūtries the bride is crowned by the Macrōs w ^t a garland of prickles, & so de­liuered vnto her husband, that hee might know he hath tied himself to a thorny ple­sure. Vlisses wept for the death of his dog, but shed neuer a teare for his wiues sor­row. Women bet­ter lost then founde. Domitius buryed three wiues with a dry handkercher. Sophocles beeing asked what stomack he had to a faire wo­man, said, none at all, for he was deliue­red out of such prisons, and had shaken those fetters of frō his heeles. Had there beene any great felicity in your acquain­tance, I doubt not, but you shoulde haue [...]in more esteemed. Think not, signiora, that I speake this too impaire the loue that euery man ought too beare too his wife, but too giue you too vnderstande, [Page] that the way to Heauen is not strewde with rushes, nor the ende of toyle in lo­uers ioyes, nor the cradle of ease in La­dies laps. My selfe haue alwayes beene so affected to pleasure, that I haue iud­ged the daunces of Venus schoole, to be as dangerous as the Mermaides songs, which draw vs frō the coast we are boūd to seeke, which make vs forgette from whence wee came; that forsaking our countrie, our Parentes, our freends, our acquaintance, haling into a wrong road, casting our Ankees before wee sounde, selling our commodities, our shippes, our selues for a drop of honie, which at the first taste, is chaunged to poyson, wee might cleaue to the rocks and be turned to stones; Listen to vanitie, and be loden with vice; stick fast in sinne and be swal­lowed in death, the fittest rewarde of such a life.

It is not my meaning too shriue you gentlewoman, but as a Philosopher to exhorte you if you haue not falne, to stand fast; if you be downe, to recouer your foo­ting as soone as you may, & looke to your steppes that you fall no more. The Ma­riner [Page 74] alwayes so guides the helme that he keepeth the sayle in the windes nose; the Player so beateth his parte too him selfe at home, that hee giues it right ge­sture when he comes to the scaffolde; the painter so tēpers his colours to shadow his worke, & behaueth him self with such regarde, that keeping a quick eye to his paterne, a steady hand to his frame, hee might finish his taske w ^t greater praise. Our life is a ship, saued at sea and lost at shore; a cōmon play, brought to the stage as a gasing stocke, euery man sees our smallest faults; A curious picture hard to draw, and quickly spoylde with quiue­ring ioynts. Wherfore it is necessary for vs to marke wel where the wind blowes, that we be not sunck; to haue a care too discharge our parts, that we not shamed; to be so wary & circūspect in our doings, that wee marre not all that wee take in hande. Weake braines are not too bee charged with made Wines; nor feeble mindes, with inchaunted delights; they ouerthrowe vs too our discredite, these bewitch vs to our destruction.

[Page] We ought not to stand vpon slippery bankes, when our steppes are vncertaine in dry ground. So tickle is al the stay we haue heere, that wee cannot mooue with­out reelinge, nor gather vp our feet with­out falling. Take heed, signoria, how you stande, Two pathes. and whether you walke. There are but twoo pathes layde open before vs, the one smooth and broade, ouerspred with the beautie of many flowres, wa­tred with the deawe of sundry springes; sounding delight with varietie of byrds glimmering with the bright beames of the sunne; and this is pleasure, which we ought not too followe for ambling to the Diuel: the other, narrowe and craggie, harde and lothsome, darke and terrible, and this is trouble, whom we should not feare, bicause he driues vs too heauen on a trotting horse.

Demetrius contrary to your opinion, thought none in the world so miserable as those, that had neuer fasted of any [...] A good father neuer suffereth his sonne to bee idle, but exercyseth his body in la­bour, his mind in [...] layeth the greatest waight, vpon [Page 75] those wits, that hee lyketh best, because hee is sure they are able too beare it. God is a father and a Schoolemaister vnto vs, if hee haue not traueled your bodie, too make you sweate; nor reade you long Lectures, to busie your wittes; It is a playne case, and a stronge argu­mente, that hee neither loues you as a Father, nor lykes you as a Mayster; nor accountes you his childe, nor makes you his Scholer.

Vertue can sleepe without a pillowe. Scaeuola soughte for his ioy by fire, Fa­britius by pouertie, Rutilius by ex­ile, Regulus by torments, Socrates by poyson, Cato by death. They whiche inhabite the colde Countryes, finde de­light in the frozen Snowe, pursue the wilde beastes for foode in the Moun­taynes, and chalke vppe their lodging in that place, where nighte compels them. They regarde no pouertie: for they liue no barer then they were borne; they force no sorrowe, for if it bee longe, cu­stome in them hath made it lighte; if it [Page] he shorte, they soone forget it; they flye no death, for either in that they end their toyle, or enter into a better life; they des­pise Fortune, for she cannot robbe them that haue naught too loose, and no wea­pon she hath, can wounde the mind. If you thinke these people in misery, be­cause they rowse not their bodyes in Beddes of Downe; they surfeite not with our daintyes of Italy, but with Hippolytus followe Dianas chase, you are out of your wittes.

Ouid in the person of Phoebus to Phaeton appointeth away for vs to trace before we can bring our selues to rest, in which I reade of no pleasure at all.

Such is the path that we are willed to treade, so bolte vpright, that the hottest [Page 76] youth findeth his hands full inough too scale it, the top so high when we are vp, that we shiuer to see what dāger we haue past, and our heads are gyddie with loo­king downe. The laste so deepe, that if we slip, we breake our neckes, and neuer leaue rolling till we drop in to the graue. In youth we had neede of props, because we mount; in middle age, when we are a­loft our pleasure is dasht w ^t a great feare▪ perceiuing so many dangers behinde vs, which we haue escaped; so many before vs, which are to come; In gray heares, we beginne to drop, and euery foote wee stirre is a steepe too death. Beside the steepe rise, tickle hight, perillous down­fall of our passage, there are many mon­sters in our way.

Thus finde wee not in any parte of our life, one spare place too wring in a little pleasure. Howe happy is the life of them that ouercome? The beste [Page] Sayler, is knowne in sorest stormes; the brauest Souldier, in greatest perill; the purest Golde, in hottest fire; the blessedst people, in deepest trouble. The house is not builte, til the Timber be hewed, nor happynesse woonne, till we be hackt.

Flatter not your selfe in the ioyes of this worlde, which are Fancyes hookes, to catche fooles. Vlisses bounde him­selfe too the mast, that he might sayle be­yonde them, you muste girde vp your loynes, or wrastle til you sweate, before you can carry the prize away. Rich Coblers, haue blacke Thumbes; good Carpenters, harde handes; Thriftie Playsterers, dirtie clothes; profounde Studentes, pale faces; fatte Schollers, thinne cheekes. Difficilia quae pulchra, wee obtayne no true pleasures without paine. They that will haue the Nut, must breake the shell; that will eate the Apple, must climb the tree; that wil come too the Myne, must dig the Earth; that will trauell the Sea, muste passe the sand; that wil conquer their foes, must fight the fielde; that will gett the goale, [Page 77] muste runne the race; that will weare a Crowne, muste wynne the same. The seede of the Lorde and the Corne of his Haruest, suffereth all weathers in open fielde, and when it is growne too perfect rypenesse, it is cut with the Syth, beaten with the Flayle, tostt with the Fanne, brused with the Stone, parcht with the heate of a Fiery Ouen. Thousandes are the pikes that must be passed, before wee can enter the gates of rest. Isaack was dearely beloued of GOD yet ma­ny tymes vexed, driuen out of Chana­an with hunger, troubled with his neighbours, barde of his water, greeued with the discorde of his sonnes, and the vio­lence offered vnto his wife.

The children of GOD hung vp theyr Harpes on the VVillow trees, sate downe and wepte at the waters of Babylon. Many are the examples that I might alleadge out of the Scripture, too shewe you that GOD bryngeth none vntoo hym by pleasure, but whips them with sorrowe tyll theyr heartes grone, that when they haue rensed their [Page] couche with teares, the smoke of theyr sighes might arise vppe lyke Franken­sence into his nostthriles.

Consider, Signiora, that you were not made sodaynly by the running attil [...] of little Moates in the ayre, but fashi­oned out with the handes of God. By which you may knowe as I haue tolde you already, that you are not your owne, but his that framed you; yf you be not your owne, deny your selfe; yf you be Gods, flie vnto him; cast of y ^e wanton de­sires of this life, seeke for no pleasure in these dayes, if you wish to auoid torment in the worlde too come. Lasie people pine to death; rewarde is theirs that la­bour harde: Yf you striue with this body and maister sinne; encounter the Deuill and win the fielde; charge your foe stout­ly, and holde vp your swoorde to the later gaspe; you shall finde suche grace, suche mercy, such pleasure, such ioy, as neither eye hath seene, nor eare hath hearde, nor fleshe hathe felte, nor thought concei­ued, nor Phialoes tongue is able too rehearse.

[Page 78] When Phialo had thus ended his talke, and beheld Polyphile to see howe his Medicine beganne too woorke, Phi­lotimo tolde him that Aesope maketh the Lion too chase the Harte, but the Harte beeing swifter of foote quic­ly got out of the Lions sight, and lodged him selfe in the thickest brakes: the Lion following still mette with a sheepe­hearde; of whome hee demaunded whe­ther hee had seene the Harte or not; the poore sheaphearde saide no, and pointed too the thicket where the Hart lay. Euen soo did hee like a timerous swaine, for feare of Ieraldi whome hee knewe too bee pleasures deadly foe, deny the delight he hath seene, with his tongue and glaunsing deceitfully too Polyphile, looke vpon Venus with his heart. Wherin hee shewed him selfe a cunning sculler that rowes his Bote forwarde, thoughe hee haue turned his face too the sterne; And though hee spoke his pleasure a­gainste pleasure, withdrawing his heade from Gentlewomans lappes, [Page] yet hee followed them backwards, as the Bargemen in England, that rowe vppe too London, with theyr faces to Graues­ende.

Trust me, saide Ieraldi, I haue seene children which beholding meate at the Table, and durste not craue it for feare of the Rodde, haue told theyr fathers, they woulde eate none of that; whiche was but a craftie kinde of begging And it may be, that Phialo cryeth out against women, because hee loues them, but I doo nor beleeue it. There is no cause why hee shoulde double before mee, though I bee seuere, I am no Lyon; neyther deo I pursue wylde wantons too death, but too amendment; Notwith­standing where the roote is rotten, the Stocke can neuer bee newe graffed; It is a harde matter too make an olde Dogge receiue the Coller, or too bryue that corruption out of the fleshe, which is bredde in the bone: Polyphile hath runne so long vntyed, that I feare libertie hath eaten a hole in her heart, and her stomacke will not suffer her now too bende. Those qualities are seldome [Page 79] lost, which are got by long practise, and growne to a habite.

You are too preiudiciall sir, sayde Polyphile, where the husbandman see­eth many weedes, hee taketh the Soyle too bee fruitefull, if it bee tylled: where­soeuer you see any vices growe, there is grounde for vertue, if it bee laboured. Forspeake me not I pray you, I am not so bad as you report, though I be woorse than I woulde I were, if after this tyl­lage, you finde mee barren, or returne too my vomite, then say, that the roote of grace is cleane decayed, and vertue in mee will neuer budde. God hath appoin­ted Mary a tyme too repent, and Poly­phile to forsake her wicked wayes. Had I beene sooner dyeted, I had beene soo­ner reclaimed; sooner called, I had sooner come. I feele such a combate in my selfe, such a terrour of the iust iudge­ment of GOD, and suche a comforte a­gayne if I runne to him, that I am con­strayned heare too staye my selfe, and re­sorte no more too the Epicures Table, least surfe [...]ting sooner than I [...] [Page] I cast vp my meate the way that it came and licke vp my gall with a loathing sto­macke. Therefore I thanke you signi­or Ieraldi for your cost, which prouided all this cheare for my sake; you sit Phi­lotimo for your company, whose lookes were the fountaine of all this talke; and you good Phialo whose Philosophie hath pulled me out of the iawes of death. As long as I liue I acknowledge my selfe to bee your scholler, and holde me your dettour, which if you remaine any time in Venice you shall perceiue: No more Polyphile, that name I abhorre, Theophile nowe newly christened by thee.

Ieraldi reioyced too heare these wordes, and wished a Gospel on that mouth, wherewith they arose: and Ieral­di taking Philotimo aside, requested him earnestly to procure some friendship for Phialo in the Courte, that he might bee restored to Sienna againe. Philotimo ready enough to doe that without entrea­tie, desired Ieraldi to harbour Phialo, till be hearde farther newes: for the next day he entended to returne towards Ferara, & [Page 80] promised that it shoulde not be long ere he wrot ehym an answeare. Ieraldi soone graunted soosmall a Boone: & whilest he discouered to Phialo theyr intent, Philo­timo stepped too Theophile too take his leaue, in whose eyes hee percei­ued the matter stande too seee good company breake so soone.

A Captaine that serued Cyrus, being one day desirous to shewe his Prince sport in tray­ning his men, deui­ded them al into twoo equall partes, giuing bucklers and wa­sters to the one, appointing nothing but cloddes of harde earth to the other; When they were separated farre a sun­der, and a signe giuen to them both to fight, the dirty Champions that stoode a loofe, paulted the buckler bearers on the shinnes, and the head, receiuing no bur [...] againe for the time, bicause they kept them out of the others reache: But when the battayle began to ioyne, their turfes were too brittle towarde a blowe, [Page] the sorest strypes lighted on their own shoulders. Such is the skitmishe of our players, who perceiuing the truthe to stand on my side as an armour of proofe; and finding them selues vnappointed for the fielde, keepe a farre off, biting me in corners, casting out libels, which are but clay, and rattle on mine armour, or tippe me on the shinnes, without farther hurt. But if they take vp my gloue, and enter the Lyste; set downe their opinion, and subscribe their names; I will gather in to them as faste as I can, and teach them to know the weyght of my clubbe. I vn­derstand they are all in a fustian fume, they runne to & fro, with a nettle in their noses, and lashe out their heeles as they had caught the brimse, which is a plaine token, that the gawle is rubbed, the can­ker toucht. They haue eaten bulbief, and threatned highly, too put water in my woortes, whensoeuer they catche me; I hope it is but a coppy of their counte­nance, Ad di [...]m fortasse minitantur, Shrewde kyne shall haue shorte hornes: If they be chafte, they may be walke, if they be rough, they may bee calmde; if [Page 82] they be hotte, they may be coolde; I am not so childishe to take euery bushe for a monster; euery shadow for a bugge; e­uery man for a deuill, that daunceth in his coate. The wynde blustereth a­bout the hilles, yet can not remoue them from their place; The Sea beates vpon the rockes, yet euery billowe tugges in vayne; With thicke shotte the ayre is darkened, yet neuer a bullet stickes in the Sunne. They may wrastle with me and rore, and rayle, yet truth is steady & cannot be stirde, harde, and cannot bee brooke with washe; highe, and cleere, and cannot be hurt. If I giue them a Pil to purge their humor, they neuer leaue belking till it bee vp, wherein you may perceiue what vnruly patientes I deale withall, howe vnwilling they are to re­ceiue remedy, when their disease hath gotten the vpper hande, howe ill good cookerie agrees with their queasie sto­mackes, and how they had rather suffer destruction to ouertake them, then seeke any meane to saue their soules. It is the propertie of hony though it be sweete, to torment those partes of the bodie that [Page] are infected, & such as are troubled with y ^e Kings euil, neuer taste it, but they iudge it to be gall. Therefore I wishe them al that feele me sharpe, to consider whether it be to those that are sound, or to such as I finde do norish filthe. My Schoole of Abuse, hath met with some enemies, bi­cause it correcteth vnthristy Schollers; Demosthenes orations smelt of sampe oyle, because his candle burnt brightest, when theeues were busiest. They that are greeued, are Poets, Pipers, and Players: the first thinke that I banishe Poetrie, wherein they dreame; the se­cond iudge, that I condemne Musique, wherein they dote; the last proclaime, that I forbid recreation to man, wherein you may see, they are starke blinde. He that readeth with aduise the booke which I wrote, shal perceiue that I touche but the abuses of all these. When we accuse the Phisition for killing his patient, we finde no faulte with the Arte it selfe, but with him that hath abused the same. Therefore let me holde the same propo­sition still, which I sette downe before, & drewe out of Tully, that ancient Poetes [Page 83] are the fathers of lies, Pipes of vanitie, and Schooles of Abuses. Iupiter which was but a mortall man and almost a pa­ticide, that for greedinesse of the crowne, droue his owne father Saturne, out of his kingdome, though hee were a cruell ty­rant, an vnnaturall childe, an vsurping Prince, an abhominable leacher, as wic­ked a wretche as euer liued, by Poets is made the king of gods. Venus a notori­ous strumpet, that lay with Mars, with Mercurie, with Iupiter, with Anchises, w ^t Butes, with Adones, that taught the women in Cyprus to set vp a Stewes, too hyre out them selues as hackne [...]es, for gaine, and that made her self as com­mon as a Barbars chayre by Poets is placed for a goddesse in heauen. Al these whome the Poetes haue called gods and goddesses, for the most part, were ba­stardes begotten in adulterie, or very lewde liuers, which had no soner defiled their beddes, but they were snatchte vp to the skyes and made starres, in so much that Iuno crieth out in Seneca, Tellus co­lenda est, pellices coelum tenent; Lets dwel in earth, for heauen is full of whores. [Page] what stuffe is this? wantons in heauen? & a double diuinitie of he gods, & she gods? If it be so, I hope they will graunt me, that in that place nothing ought to bee vayne; if nothing be vaine, they must liue together by couples like man and wife, or holde the publique weale of Plato, and make euery thing common. If they liue together in lawfull marriage, giue them houses to thē selues for lawfull encrease, that all which they do be not seene in the market; if they haue houses, let them haue landes, it is no reason they should be poorer then wee, & if they haue lande, either lette it bee fruitfull of it selfe, or giue them whippes in their handes, and sende them like swaynes to plough and [...]arte. Bicause they are gods, they neuer die; bicause they are married, they dayly multiplte, for none can be so fruit­full as they, thus neuer dying, and euer encreasing, some of them in time shall be driuen to dwell in the ayre, some in the water, some in the earth, some in hell when house rome is scant, for heauē will not hold so great a company. If they bee fruitfull, what is the reason that Iupi­ter [Page 84] getteth no more children▪ doeth [...]ee waxe olde, or is Iuno barraine [...] afeard to gleane any longer of other [...] corne, least he be robbed of his own har­uest? Considereth he now [...] good turne requireth another? that hee which strikes with the sworde, shalbe beaten with the scabbarde? If they make all common, what are they better then brute beastes? So grosse are the errours, so great the abuses, so horrible the blasphe­mies we finde in Poetes, that wee may rather iudge them monsters of nature, then men of learning. Whilest they make Cupide trumphe in heauen, and all the gods to matche bounde like [...] ­serable captiues, before his charriot, they belie God, and be witch the reader with bawdie charmes.

Whilest they enclose the power of their Gods in what compasse they please, gi­uing Heauen to Iupiter, Hel too [...], the Sea too Neptune, they forgett [...] earth, and leaue it too the rule of none [...] al. Whilest they make many gods, they ouerthrow euery God. For if their gods bee of equal power, no one of them cā doo [Page] any thing without his fellow, and so none of them al may be called a god, because God is perfect and almighty. Being per­fect, he can neither be encreased nor dimi­nished; being almightie, he hath no neede of the helpe of other. What a confusion haue Poets brought, whē thinking little, y ^t whatsoeuer is deuided may be destroy­ed, they set all the gods togither by the eares, some fighting for Troy, some for the Greeks, some for Aenaeas, & som for Tur­nus? Saturne whō they affirmed to be god of time, was a varlet that gelded his own Father, afterwarde thrust out of his seate by his sonne Iupiter, he was constrained to saue himselfe by flighte, and a greate whyle liued obseurely in Italy. Apollo was a buggerer, and Schoolemaister of periurie; Mars a murderer, Mercury a theefe, Castor & Pollux, whome they re­porte to be twinnes growen in one body, when they were rauishers of other mens wiues, neuer mette within one payre of sheets. Flora a curtezan that got infinite summes of money by sinne, and gaue all to the Romans when she died, by Poets is honoured for a goddesse of flowers. [Page 85] Thus making gods of them that were brute beastes, in the likenes of men, di­uine goddesses of common harlots; they robbe God of his honour, diminishe his authoritie, weaken his might, & turne his seate to a stewes. By writing of vn­truthes they are open liers, but if they do faine these frantike cenceates to re­semble some what els that they imagine, by speaking of one thing and thinking another, they are dissemblers: It is not enough for their freendes to say,

Or, Iuraui lingua, mētem iniuratam gero. My tōgue hath sworne, my hart is free. For players action, doeth answere to their partes; and Poets discourses to their maners: yet are many of their Schollers so enchaunted, that like the superstitious and foolishe Aegypti­ans, they had rather lose their lyues, then the Idols of their byrdes, their beastes, their Ibes, their Adders, their Dogges, their Cattes, their Serpents, their Crocodiles.

[Page] Pypers are very sore displeased bi­cause I allow not their new [...], and shew them how farre their instrumentes differ from those that were vsed in olde times; they say, their musique is per­fecter nowe than it was before, but who shalbe iudge? Let Ismenias the graūd fidler that was takē prisoner by the Scy­thians in a battayle, vtter all his cun­ning when Antaeas the king is at supper, he will laugh him to scorne, and sweare that his Horse hath brayed sweeter. When Philippe of Macedon tooke vp­on him to realon with a newe Msition of his new chordes, and was not able to go thorowe stitche, bicause they haue euer a crotchet aboue commons, & adde where they liste, when they see their time, God forbidde, quoth the piper, that your maie­stie should be so miserable, as to knowe these fantasticall toyes any better, their effeminate stops are not worth a straw. Dionysius made such accompt of their cunning, when they iudged it to be at the beste that hearing the notablest Harper which was in those dayes, hee promised him a talent for his labour, next day whē [Page 86] he came to craue his rewarde; Dionysius tolde him that he had it already: For, said hee, thou diddest but tickle mine eares with an emptie sounde, and I did the like againe to thee, promising that which I meane not to giue, delighting thee as much with hope of my coyne, as my selfe was pleased with the sounde of thy in­strument. Bicause I would ha [...]e Diony­sius folowed, let thē not think [...] hor [...]e Musique: if they put on their spectacles, or take their eyes in their hands, & looke better in the Schoole of abuse, they shal finde that with Plutarch I accuse thē for briging their rūning into Theaters: that I say, they haue wilfully left or with ig­norance loste, those warlike [...]unes which were vsed in auncient times, to stire vp in vs a manly motiō, and founde out new descant with the dauncers of Sybaris, to rocke vs a [...]eepe in all vngodlinesse. If they had any witte, any learning, or expe­rience, they might knowe that Excellens sensibtle laedit sensum, their daintie cen­sortes will make vs wantens. Aristoni­cus the Musition, for his memorie with all posterities, had a brasen I doll erected [Page] to him by Alexander, and was wonder­fully honoured for his arte. This was not done for [...]ūding Les guāto spagntola, or inuenting sweete measures, or coy­ning newe daunces, but for kindling his souldiers courage, and hartening them all to take armour. Such a Musition was Antigenides, whome Alexander had no soner hearde, but hee startled, as though hee had beene then in battaile, & bent his siste at all them that were in presence: whiche of oure Musitions that are so perfect, is able with his in­strument to make a freshe water souldier runne to his weapons, or enforce the Dolphin in the Sea to saue his life, if he suffer wracke? Which of all their instrumentes that are so absolute, can performe that which other haue doone before? If ancient Musitions haue gone beyonde vs, where is our cunning? If their instrumentes haue passed ours, where is the perfectnesse that our Pi­pers imagine? why, say they, you play with antiquities, wee builde vpon scrip­ture: Iubal was father of their harpe, but how many stringes hee put to it, or [Page 87] what songes he played they can not tell me. Dauid did playe on the Lute, and the Harpe, and vsed instrumentes of many stringes, but to prooue these in­strumentes were better, then such as had been practised many hundred yeeres before he was borne, Hic labor hoc opvs est, there goeth the Hare away. And though I be of Plutarches opinion, that when we haue done or sayde all that wee can, the oldest fashion is euer best; that newe cuttes are the paternes of running heads; strange blockes, the very badges of fonde conceites; yet do I not forbidde our new founde instrumentes, so that we handle them as Dauid did, to prayse God; nor bring them any more into pu­blique Theaters, to please wantons. London is so full of vnprofitable Pipers and Fidlers, that a man can no sener enter a tauerne, but two or three caste of them hang at his heeles, to giue him a daunce before he departe; therefore let mē of grauitie examine the case, & iudge vprightly, whether the sufferance of such idle beggers be not a greeuous abuse in a common wealth.

[Page] For my parte though I haue sayde more then they will like off; yet set down lesse, then they deserue) I meane not too trouble my wittes about them: it shal be enough for me which haue no authoritie to giue them a plaister, to launce the sore frendly & let it runne, that in processe of time, it may heale of it selfe.

Playes are so tolerable, that Lactan­tius condemneth them flatly, without a­ny maner of exception, thinking them, the better they are penned, or cunning­lier hādled, y ^e more to be fled; bicause that by their pleasant action of body, & sweete numbers flowing in verse, we are moste inchanted. And Tully a Heathen, cry­ing out against Poetrie, for placing baudy Cupide among the gods, vttreth these wordes in the ende: De comoedia lo­quor, quae si haec flagitia non probaremus, nulla esset omninò; I speake of playes, which if our selues did not loue this fil­thinesse, should neuer be suffered. If plai­ers take a little more counsell of their pillowe, they shall finde them selues to be the worste, and the daungerousest people in the world, A theefe is a shrewde mem­ber [Page 88] in a common wealth, he empties our bagges by force, these ransacke our pur­ses by permission; he spoileth vs secretly, these rifle vs openly; hee gettes the vp­perhād by blowes, these by merry iestes; he suckes our bloud, these our manners; he woundes our bodie, these our soule; O God, O men, O heauen, O earth, O tymes, O manners, O miserable dayes! he suffreth for his offence, these stroute without punishment vnder our noses; & lyke vnto a consuming fier, are nourished stil with our decay. Lacon thought it im­possible for him to be good, that was not bitter to the wicked, then how shal we be perswaded of Players, which are most pleasant to abhominable liuers? Dioge­nes said, that it was better to be a mā of Maegaraes Ramme, then his sunne, be­cause he prouideth a sheepherde to looke to his folde; but seeketh no instructer to teach his chylde; hee hath a care that his sheepe be wel tended and washt, but ne­uer regardeth his sonnes discipline; hee forbiddeth the one too runne in daunger of the wolfe, but keepes not the other from the Diuels clawes; and if Dioge­nes [Page] were nowe aliue, to see the abuses that growe by playes, I beleeue hee would wyshe rather to bee a Londoners bounde then his apprentice, bicause hee rateth his dogge, for wallowing in car­rion; but rebukes not his seruaunt for resorting to playes, that are ranke poy­son. So corrupt is our iudgemēt in these matters, that wee accompt him a murde­rer, whome we see delight in sheading of bloode; and make him a iester, that woū ­deth our conscience; we cal that a slaugh­ter house where brute beastes are killed; and holde that a pastime, which is the ve­ry buchery of Christian soules. We per­ceiue not that trouble and toyle draw vs to life, ease & idelnesses bring destruc­tion; that sorrowe and anguishe are ver­tuous bookes, pleasure, and sporte the deuils baites; that honest recreation quickneth the spirites, & playes are ve­nemous arrowes to the minde; that hun­ters deceiue most, whē seeming to walke for their delight, they craftely fetche the deare about; that players counterfaiting a shewe to make vs merry, shoote their nettes to worke our misery; that when Comedie comes vpon the stage, Cupide [Page 89] sets vpp a Springe for VVoodcockes, which are entangled ere they discrie the line, and caught before they mistruste the snare.

They muste not thinke that I ba­nishe recreation, because I barre them; the Souldier hath aswel a time to sleepe, as to keepe Sentinel; to rest his bones, as to labour his body. Iron with muche occupiying, is worne too naught, with lit­tle handeling gathereth rust. Moderate sleepe refresheth man, too much killeth him in time. Therefore we must neither be laboured too muche, for ouerloading; nor loyter too long, for making our selues vnapt to any thing. Socrates left his stu­dy too play with children, but not conti­nually; Cato layde awaye his Booke and drunke wine, but not immoderately; Scipio put of his armour and daunced to the Instrument, but not wantonly; Pollio Asinius the great Orator, neuer carried in his Studie after tenne of the clocke, nor redd any letters that were sent hym after that houre, what haste soeuer they required, but hee did not this too geue himselfe leaue too goe to Playes, There [Page] are other good pastimes to bee founde, if we be wylling too seeke them out.

When Seneca hath shewed Serenus all that he can to keepe the minde quiet, and too restore it by exercise if it be idle, or by recreation if it bee weary; hee giueth him this Caueat in the ende for a parting blowe, that all which hee hath set downe already, or is able too write if neede require, is not of forte & strength enough, too keepe so slender and weake a Houlde, except wee enuiron the same our selues, with a diligent forecast, a day­ly care. Hee that thinkes wanton playes a meete recreation for the minde of man, is as farre from the trueth as the foolishe Gentiles, which beleeue that theyr gods delight in toyes; and wee whiche carrie our money too Players too feede theyr pride, may be wel compared to the Bath keepers Asse which bringeth him woode too make his fire, and contenteth himself with the smell of the smoke.

It is a great folly in vs too seeke too liue in those places that are healthie too the body, not flie from those that are hurtfull too the soule; and as harde [Page 90] a matter for him too be cured, that kno­weth not the griefe wherwith he is trou­bled. Senecaes wife had a she foole called Harpastes, which though she was soden­ly stricken blinde, coulde not bee perswa­ded that shee had lost her sight, but iud­ged the house too bee some what darke. In my opinion our Players are as bad as shee, though they do not perceiue their owne abuses, yet will they not say they haue lost theyr eyes, but that theyr lippes hang in theyr light, or else they are ouer­spread with a Cloude; And worse then those that confesse themselues blinde, for they, wyl yeelde themselues too bee led; these, had rather lye in the Chanell, then leane too a guide.

I neuer yet read of that abuse which founde not some too excuse the same, so wicked and euill disposed are wee, that wee defende our vices because wee loue them, and had rather excuse them, than shake them of. Ocrina caught a pri­uy clap, & was deliuered of Seruius Tul­lius, yet some of her friendes dyd cloke the faulte, saying that the childe was got with a sparke of fier; which peraduenture [Page] bredde such winges in time, that it flewe out of the Bastardes heade in a flame.

Our players since I set out the Schole of abuse, haue trauailed to some of mine acquaintance of both Vniuersities, with fayre profers, and greater promises of rewardes, yf they woulde take so much paine as too write agaynst mee; at laste like to Penelopees suters, which seeing themselues disdained of her, were glad to encroche with some of her maides, when neither of both Vniuersities, would heare their plea, they were driuen too flie to a weake bedge, and fight for themselues with a rooten stake. Beggars, you know, muste bee no chosers, hunger sau [...]eth eue­ry meate, when fishers lay theyr hookes in haste, Frogges will make a sauory dishe. It is tolde mee that they haue got one in London to write certaine Honest excuses, for so they tearme it, to their dis­honest abuses which I reuealed. It is good for him that will falsifie psctures, not to let them see the liuely creatures, that are desirous to view his worke, nei­ther is it conuenient for him too present his excuse to any of those that haue read [Page 91] my schoole, and behelde those abuses in playing places, least their eyes reprooue him for a lyar.

How he frames his excuses, I know not yet, because it is doone in hudder mudder. Trueth can neuer be Falsehods Vtsarde, whith maketh him maske with­out a torch, & keepe his papers very se­cret. I will not deny but something may bee probably disputed in their cause by sharper wittes, whiche is such foode as slaketh your hunger, for a season, yet will it not breede good bloode, nor fleshe, nor liuely spirites, but bloweth you vp, and makes you swell, and turnes to corrupti­on in the ende. Patroclus may iette in Achilles armour, but hee dares not med­dle with Peleus Dart. What cloke soe­uer this Excuser weares, maugre his teeth, he must leaue the trueth, and strike with a Strawe, when hee comes to the fielde. Let him speake what hee liste in Players cause, he shall find them shaken with a woondrous Feuer, throwe fether­beds on them, they are neuer the war­mer, and all his excuses shall stande for perfumes, which faintly set them vpon [Page] their feete, that grouell in the dust with the falling sicknesse, but cannot deliuer them of their disease. If the Excuser be the man that is named to me, hee is as famous a Clarke as Clauitius Sabinus, which was so troubled with a grosse con­ce [...]te, and as short a memory, that euery minute he forgote the names of Vlisses, Achilles, Priamus, and such as he knew as well as the Begger his dishe, beeing very familiar with them, and dayly con­uersant in their cōpany, yet many times he saluted the one by the others name: And because his mashippe would seeme learned, he heyred him seruauntes with great stipendes, of which, one had Ho­mer without Booke, another Hesiod, and nine Fidlers heads to make him an Index, of euery one of them taking some seuerall names of his acquaintance, too bee remembred. When this Gentle­man had got so profounde a Familie, hee began very friendly to feaste his ac­quaintaunce: in the middest of theyr dishes, out slewe his Poetrie, for his Pypers were ready too rounde him in the eare, what hee should speake; but his [Page 92] luck was so ill, or his hearing so thicke, that he stuck fast continually in the midst of his verse, and could goe no farther.

Crassus had such a roring throte, that he was cōstrained whē soeuer he declaimed to haue a piper at his elbow to giue him his tune, and keepe him in compasse. If it bee my fortune too meete with the learned woorkes of this London Sa­binus, that can not playe the Poet without a Prompter; nor vtter a wise worde, without a Piper; you shall see we will make him to blush like a blacke Dogge when he is graueled; or to dance you a Galia [...]de when he takes his keye. In the meane time my aduantage is the greater, that Players haue chosen such a Champion, as whē I giue the Allarm, winnowes his weapon; when I run with a staffe, chargeth a Bulrushe; when I spare not to greete them with poulder & shot, answeares mee againe with a false fire. I was determined to send you grea­ter matters, touching the saleable toung of Curio, but I stay my hande till I see his booke, when I haue perusd it I will tel you more. Meane while, I beseech [Page] them to looke to their footing, that run o­uershooes in al these vanities, lest they be swallowed without recouery: and wish­ing to my Schoole, some thriftyer scho­lers; to Players, an honester occupati­on, and to their Excuser a bet­ter minde, I take my leaue.