THe making, or marring of mankinde, as of other creatures, is, especially, in their first age. In [...]hees, the sprigs, whilest they [...]re tender, will yeild with ease, to the grafters hand, and grow [...]y his direction, either straight, [...]r crooked. Soe, the mindes of [...]nfants, by their Parents skill, [...]o lesse, then their bodies, by the [...]sidwiues hand, may with ease [Page 2] be moalded into such a fashion as will be durable in after-ages. The seedes espeicially, and fun­damentall parts of vertue, are by an early, and strong perswa­sion, to bee soe engrafted into them, that they need not know, whither nature or praecept were the teachers of them. To be dutifull to their parents, and obedient to their counsels; to abhorre intemperance, lying, and deceite, as prodigies and things vnusuall; to adore espe­cially the power of God, and sometimes by mercy, some­times by iudgement, to consider of it. These things must bee taught them, without trouble or seuerity; for what euer wee follow for feare of punishment, from the same things with a sad loathing wee vse to bee [Page 3] auerse, and the hatred concei­ued in our youth, I know not by what custome of horrour, wee oft nourish in our old age. The must daily bee seasoned with instructions concerning the excellency and rewards of vert [...]; and vices in a shamefull and disdainefull manner, must be named to them, to make them altogether ignorant, that such vices are now often in publike practised, and without infamy. Being thus brought vp in such gentle rudiments, they will hate vices, and learne not to feare vertue as too rigid, and harsh a mistresse. They will easily bee brought to these beginnings of right discipline, by the guidance of their parents and teachers, whose opinions, like diuine Oracles, will altogether sway [Page 4] their minds yet weake, and not troubled with the ambition of iudging. Besides this, they cannot be allured, by the fiatte­ring promises of any vice, whose age as yet, is not onely vnexpe­rienced of pleasure, but vtterly incapable of it: they will there­fore easily condemne that thing, which in the iudgement of their friends, is dishonest, and commended to themselues, by noe temptation. Nor, would we here initiate their childhood in any such torment, as supersti­tious, and anxious piety; but manly, and wary vertue; for since the mindes of men, by an inbred waight, bend heauily downward to the worst things; wee had neede to bow them, while yet they are tender, quite contrary; that by this meanes [Page 5] when their naturall force shall bring them backe, they may yet retaine a happy meane betwixt their nature, and education. But in this discipline of tender youth, as soone as their mindes are sensible of praise, the desire of it is to bee kindled in them, that they may then learne, and accustome themselues to affect honour; and in all exercises, ei­ther in schooles, or abroad at play, they may labour with de­light to excell their equals. Be­sides, when their age encreasing, shall bring them by degrees as it were, out of bondage, soe that both the awe of their parents may not too sensibly decrease in them, and they not wanton it, through a suddaine, and vnexpe­cted encrease of liberty: we must leaue their childhood to those [Page 6] delights which are proper to that age, least we should seeme to accuse nature, which hath ordained that age to bee weake and feeble; and vnseasonable sowing of wisedome in them, corrupt their natures, not yet ripe for such instructions. Let harmelesse wantonnesse be free­ly allowed them; let them gent­ly be taught learning, rather as a change of recreation then a loathsome burthen; and rather feare, then feele, the correction of their parents: let them lastly, enioy that freedome which na­ture in pity hath bestowed on them; nor bee forced to endure the punishment of humane cares, before they haue deserued them; vnlesse we thinke, it may [...] accounted among the least of mischiefes, when children alto­gether [Page 7] restrained from playing, are (like the wife of that Stolen) terrified at all noyse of [...]ods; and doe exhibite to themselues, and reuolue wisedome, in the shape of an Hobgoblin, whose sowre, and sharpe documents they are not yet capable of.

That sense of misery which is most cruelly exquisite, is most incident to that age: whilst their tender mindes doe want ability to gouerne their feare, and iudge of miseries, which yet they know not, worse then they are. And as men, whom fortune hath bro­ken with great calamities, how large so euer their capacities are, will fill them all with the sense, and contemplation of their owne miseries: euen soe in chil­dren, when that happens which [Page 8] they feare the worst, all their ability of fearing, and grieuing is spent vpon it. A man, which by chance had escaped the hands of theeues, who threat­ned to hange him; being asked, with what minde he expected death; with the same (quoth hee) that, when I was a boy, I expected whipping. Moreo­uer, the bitternesse of perpetuall feare in childrens mindes, con­sumeth that moisture, which nature intendeth to make abun­dant, for the spreading of their limmes, and growth of their bodies. For the stomacke we see, doth then want his naturall vi­gour, when the heate, and spirits are called from thence, to aide the di [...]ressed braine; nor is the blood strongly diffused vpon promise of ioy, being too much [Page 9] consumed with the interrupti­ons of sadnesse. Therefore such dispositions in the bondage of seuere custody, the abilities of their mindes, either frighted, or wasted, will stand at soe vnhap­pie a stay, that those, who were wise aboue their Childhood, do afterwards want the ordinary wisedome required at Mans estate. To Colts, and young Cat­tell, we freely allow an vncurbed wantonnesse, least their first strength, which is then grow­ing, should bee hindered by a fearefull apprehension of fu­ture bondage; and are wee soe blinded in minde, that what wee behold in other creatures, we eyther neglect, or will not vnderstand in our owne chil­dren? Neither yet is this age of Infancy to bee let loose to an [Page 10] in finite liberty; let them with moderation bee kept in awe, taught to reuerence their pa­rents highly, and bee euer igno­rant, how much liberty is per­mitted to them. For if the na­ture of a child be too malapert and full of fiercenesse, these pra­cepts of lenity belong not to him; that swelling, which the vice of nature has engendred in him, and which often the pa­rents too much gentlenesse hath ripened, and brought to a per­fect vlcer, may bee easily lanced, and taken away▪ whilest yet it is greene, and of easie growth. After this manner, their deligh­ted childhood shal be freely left, both to their own, and their pa­rents pleasure; & after they haue fulfilled the folly of their harm­lesse concupiscence, age it selfe [Page 11] will by little and little, change their desires; and the rootes of vertue will spring vp in them, which they will loue, not soe much by heat of nature, as iudg­ment. Then they will bring to their first youth, and twilight of wisdome, a minde free, altoge­ther quiet, which by the vertue of their education, is ille [...]sily embrace the beauty of that light.

But as euery meane is directly opposed to two extreame vices more contrary to each other, then to the middle vertue; [...]oe those that would call the raw mindes of children to too ha­sty a ripenesse of studies, may well bee accus [...]s ignorant of the strength, which na [...]ure hath bestowed vpon that age. For besides, that some children haue rath ripe wits, as Papyrius [Page 12] Childhood was iudged worthy of the Romane Senate. There is also a naturall dowry, and wealth bestowed vpon those yeares, a strength of capacious, and easy memory, which is euer greatest in the time of their childhood, and with an obsti­nate felicity able to retaine what euer it hath then learned: but as age encreaseth, the me­mory by little and little decay­eth; like to a Dew of soueraigne Medicine to the body of man, which in the hot countries falls vpon the leaues of Hol [...]ey; vn­lesse it be gathered at the breake of day, it will afterwards vanish at the sun- [...] Therefore with many, and often discourses with much reading of profitable Hi [...]otry, let their mindes bee filled, that children vnwittingly [Page 13] may receiue such good things as will afterwards grow vp in them, whither they will or noe. The variety also of Languages, which is gotten by vs, with much expence of time, will be easily taught our growing children by often discoursing, and con­uersing with them; so that these things of little labour and noe iudgement, will easily be at­tained vnto, by that age, which is neither strong for labour, nor ripe for iudgement. But if wee shall suffer this easie, and most memory, to grow emptily dry; those very things must be after­wards learned with long and wearisome labour, which in our infancy, had bin better and with lesse wearisomnes stored vp: for what is more miserable, then to bee enforced to spend that time [Page 14] of mans estate, which nature hath or damed a time of wise­dome (though too to short for soe many Artes and Sciences) in such things, as our empty child­hood, if well nurtured, had sto­red vp safely in the closets of our memories.

But in the childhood, there are often presages of future ver­tues, or vices; nature beginning to build a foundation fit for their following abilities. Cyrus, that first founded the Persian Monarchy, was then beleeued to bee a shepheards child, when there appeared in him that great spirit, which after­ward put a yoake vpon the neckes of the whole Ea [...]t. when he was a Boy, hee played among Boyes of his owne age; and being chosen King by the [Page 15] chance of play, hee truly exerci­sed the regall power ouer his play fellowes: those that were stubborne, with a high and con­fident (if not too proud) a Ma­iesty hee seuerely punished. The fathers of those children, whom Cyrus had beaten, complained of it to King Astyages: the King commanded Cyrus to bee brought to him; who was no­thing daunted, nor expressed any childish, or low feare, at sight of the Throne, and royall Dia­dem; hee sayd, hee was chosen King among the Boyes, and had done nothing but the office of a King. Astyages suspecting from this some greater matters then the present fortunes of the Boy perswaded, enquired more narrowly of his birth, and pa­rentage; and at last found him [Page 16] to be his owne grandchilde, his daughters sonne. That Cato, who was afterwards called Vti­censis, from the City of Vtica, where he killed himselfe; was in his infancy more then a child. When he La [...]me Emballadours were come to Rome, as suitors for the endenization of their country, they went to the house of Liuius Dr [...]us, Catoes vncle, who brought him vp: There the Embassado [...]rs asking the child in iest, if he would entreat, his vncle for them, hee answe­red not a word, but looked vp­on them with a fierce counte­nance. The Embassadours won­dering at the stubbornesse of soe young a boy, began to fiatter, & and afterward to threaten him but could not extort a word from him, at last, lifting him out, [Page 17] of the window in a high cham­ber, they made him beleeue, they would throw him downe; but hee scorning to feare at all, knit his browrs, and looked more fiercely on them, then he did be­fore; ap [...]esage, or beginning as it were, of that awfall seuerity, which his whole life did after­ward expresse. But they are of­ten [...], who by the beha­ [...] of children, will iudge too [...] of their future dispositi­on. For it must be some great [...] which must be brought as an [...] argument to iudge of the incli­nation of the future, and flexi­ble yeares. There is one presage, which seldome, or neuer decei­uer h [...]s, the easy shedding of teares in a child. For those chil­dren, [Page 18] which at the first appre­sion of griefe can truely weepe, are of a softer nature, and moul­ded, as it were, for humanity and loue. Some other children you shall see, though they cry aloud, yet maugre the threat­ning, or beating of their parents, are dry eyed: those, when they grow vp, are of fierce natures; or else, their dissembling and darke bosomes, doe neuer enter­taine, eyther true affections, or iust feares.

At their first entrance into mans estate, the heare of blood, and too great an apprehension of their owne strength, doth breede in them a wonderfull change, and carry away their mindes, as it were with a tide of inconsiderate confidence, and vaine security. That age, is the [Page 19] first that is s [...]ted entertaine delight; and reioyces not more in the tast of pleasures, then in the firedome and liberty, which they haue, to enioy them. They know not how to bee prouident for after-times, for their strengths yet raw, can­not cōsider how [...]oxious they are to the turnes [...] fortune; and the many obiects of pleasure, and delight, haue soe possessed their [...]les, they haue left noe roome, nor leisure, to [...] feare wisedome, which at the first view doth feare trouble­some. Then indeed, doth nature not strongly carry euery dis­position (not with a vaine, or dissembled desire) to his owne sudies, for which especially [...] was first formed. For then [...], whom an humble fancy [Page 20] doth inuite to low maechanicall trades, doe by the guidance of fate, embrace those Arts, which, were ordained for them: Some are addicted to the discipline of warre: others by the vigour and ability of wit, are carried to the Muses, or publike businesse; and euery kinde of humane dis­positions, by the conduct of Nature, is thus adopted into his owne tribe. For if Nature doe not ioyne certaine desire, and sweetenesse, to the profit of those labours, which shee do [...]h prescribe, certainely youth, which is [...]ca [...]ce gouerned by any reason, nor apt to entertaine any thing vnpleasant, might al­most bee excused, though it went astray.

Moreouer, that naturall vi­gour, and inuitation of industry [Page 21] will shew it selfe, euen in those are lesse lines, which are alto­gether sequestred from labour and businesse, like the Seedes of grasse, which in spight of stones that oppose their growth, will shoote out their tops, through little cranyes; to shew (at the least) that their growth is kil­led. For when young men haue lost themselues, either by sloth, [...]iot, or a mad desire of too much society, and wearied with their sports, and pleasures, they retire sometimes to a shew of labour, and slightly busie them­selues in it, onely to serue them as a change of delight; they will fall especially vpon that busines, which Nature had giuen them in fit minde and Genius to fol­low with industrie. Soe that those motions to certaine acti­ons [Page 22] infused by fate into euery­man, can neuer be wholy extin­g [...]ished or p [...]sh.

But as [...] out of strength and plenty of how nourishment doe grow too ra [...]cly, and spred them­selues into vnnecessary bran­ches, but when that r [...]n [...]nesse is better [...]pened, and conco [...]ted, they prosper with happy fruit: soe, a young man of a hot, and high soule, after his first free­dome is ouerpast, may well take vp, in such a moderation, as is fit to entertaine the best wise­dome. But i [...] from the begin­ning of his youth, hee haue al­wayes shewed a nature and sober streng [...]h o [...] minde; bee will [...] in vnprofi­table [...] before his did age. But his specially is a great token of future [...], if a­mongst [Page 23] all his pleasures and de­lights he loue with with eagernesse any one thing; and follow that delight (whatsoeuer it be) with too seemingly vehement and fierce an appetite. For this hot desire of his, at the least declares, that hee is able to entertaine a true and laborious [...] of those studies, which he [...]ff [...]cts; without which disposition no man can truely eyther follow vertue, or dedicate himselfe to glory.

But although the counsels of old age bee sometimes distast­full to the freedome of youth; yet the opinion, which young men haue, that their owne wis­dome will [...]et encrease, begets in them a high esteeme of old men as thinking that they, which haue already trauelled through [Page 24] the paths of youth, are able to direct those, which are now in it. The minde of man, in this age, is wondrously ambitious of praise, and glory; impatient of disgrace; not long persisting in the same resolutions; much selfe-admiting not able enough to choose friends, not to resist that loathing, which may after­wards grow. But for any exploit, which by a suddaine strength, and ability of minde, may be in­uented, or done, noe age of mor­tality is fitter, then the heate of youth. Soe, that we might iudge that the office of Childhood is to learne, and retaine by a strong memory, the deedes, & speeches of their Ancestours: of Youth, to inuent, act, and speake things al­together new; and lastly, of Mid­dle age to moderate it selfe by [Page 25] uations from both the former.

The next, is the Middle age of ma [...], equally distant from the dangerous giddynesse of youth, [...]nd the burden of old age: in which, the minde and body doe both soe flourish, that then one­ly you would thinke them to be truely men, and that all the life which man enioyes, may seeme [...]o bee giuen him, for this ages [...]ke. The body, and minde, are [...]oth exceedingly changed from what in youth they were: as [...]heir choise of meates, and plea­ [...]res, are not the same; soe, [...]heir manners, and all their de­ [...]es, are much different, and [...]oulded (as it were a new). The [...]inde is strong, enlightned, and [...]larged, (as it were from the [...]arke mists of youth) it begins [...] censure with much rigour, [Page 25] the trespassed errours of the same, and wonder at it selfe, [...]hat before, soe improudently it could goe astray. From thence, arises a profitable repentance, and diligence, to repaire the ruines, which youth has made.

They are great seekers of wealth, and honour, and soe greedily labour to acquire the ornaments, and supporters of life, as if they thought, their life were endlesse. Noe age is more cunning, then this Middle age, in dissembling friendshipp, and go­uerning their affections. They then begin, to be truely valiant, moderating, not extinguishing that heate of courage, by which youth was rash [...] carried vpon reuenge and fury. The iudge­ment then is sound, and perfect, nor carried ha [...]tily by the tor­rent [Page 26] of youth, nor suffering vn­der the infirmities of a craz [...]d body. They are wary in their vices, and loue not vertue, (for the most part) without hope of reward. But, old age by little and little, like a tide, ouerflow­ing this happy middle estate of mans life, doth benumme his blood, and afterward his vnder­standing. This age differing in habit, affections, & manners, doth partly encrease the vertues of the former ages, and partly make them degenerate into vi­ces. Feare especially, is the com­panion of that age, & disturbeth the minde, a seat otherwise fit, to containe wisedome. For old men, destitute of that heate of minde, which inspireth forti­tude, and through many courses both of their owne, and other [Page 28] mens dangers, hauing arriued at that age are vsually too much pe [...]p [...]exed, in consideration of those euills, which eyther them­selues haue escaped, or others haue beene ruined by. From hence it happens, that the strength of counsell, and wise­dome, the greatest endowment of old age, is often corrupted by too much feare, whilest it looketh too watily, euen into the safest things, and had rather haue wounds vnhappily concea­led, then come in other ventu­rous danger of a cure.

Happy was that delayer, who closely encamped kept off, (as it were with a shield, or buck­let) the fury of Hanniball, from the wine of Italy, that Fabius, the chiefe preseruer of the Ro­mane Empire; yet how neare [Page 29] was it, that this Fabius, by too to fearefull, and [...] an opinion, had auerted againe from Rome, her felicity, which was then returning. Publius Sci­pro had layed the proiect, of car­rying the warre into Africke; by that meanes onely, was Hanniball to be remooued, and drawne out of the bowells of Italy, to relieue the distresse of his owne country. Fabius Maxi­man too fearefully weighing all the dangers of soe great an ex­pedit [...]on, (when to his owne too much delaying nature, old age was added) had almost in­teruented this whose some pro­iest of soe braue a Generall, and in that, the safety of the Romane Empire. But this one blemish in old men, their other vertues may well excuse; especially, their wisedome in coniecturing of [Page 30] things to come. Which wise­dome confirmed in them, by the remembrance of times past, the lesse it is obged to the organs of the body, with the greater pu­rity, and consulting, as it were, with heauen it selfe,) it fore­s [...]eth all things.

How many Cities, and Em­pires, by their wisedome, haue beene preserued; how many be­nefits priuate men, which haue followed the counsell of the a­ged, haue reaped thereby; as ancient histories haue all recor­ded, soe daily experience may well instruct vs. And from hence, (perhaps) proceedes, that great, and vnwearied de­sire of talking in old men; as if it were a spurre, giuen by Na­ture, for feare it should be wea­risome to those men, to teach [Page 31] and instruct, who of all others are most able to doe it.

But many of them in this matter, can seldome obserue a moderation, but in an infinite discourse (when young men ap­ply themselves vnto them) re­late all needlesse passages, and actions whatsoeuer, of their former liues; and not contented (which is most [...] blesome) with one vexation, as they light vpon the same young man, they will either find, or make an oc­casion for the same discourse; and the m [...]e patient, or shame­fast the young man is, whom they haue gotten to this torture of hearing, the more cruelly they will bee sure to punish him. Nor, [...]oe they loue onely to bee [...]ard; but when their c [...]unsel [...] [...]s asked in any thing or [Page 32] they of their owne accords doe giue counsell, they are too im­perious in enioying beliefe, and prescribing euery thing, after their owne way; vrging men against their wills, and supposing themselues to bee then neglec­ted, when they in all things are not ruled by them: the counsels and a [...]ous of youths, and men, they behold, and censure with great scorne, being placed, (as it we [...]e) in the higher seate. Doe thou therefore, (i [...] thou wouldst truely deserue, that young men hereafter should excuse the er­rours of thy old age) endeauour to please them, and suffer them in an harmelesse delight, to ap­plaud themselues. Heare them with gentlenesse, and seeme (at least with a pleased counte­nance) ioyfully to accept what­soeuer [Page 33] they deliuer. For what lesse reuerence can bee at any time shewed to that great age, which deserueth a fatherly re­spect and honour, then to seeme to like and approoue their sayings? and with a gentle obse­quiousnesse (which cannot dis­parage vs) suffer soe venerable an age as that, [...]o enioy a delight which is proper to it.

But the long experience or worldly affaires, which hath followed them to this age and the sad examples of other men, which haue fallen into pouerty, doth commonly breede an ex­treame couetousnesse in old men. What a strange prodigy, or mockery of men kinde is it, at that time with greatest greediness to a [...] wealth, [Page 34] when wee can neither keepe it long, nor enioy at all the delights of wealth, by reason of the decay of strength? but this mischei­uous affection is still fostered in those drie brests, and Nature decaying, is then most fearefull to fall into pouerty, when shee is least able, by reason of weak­nesse, to relieue her selfe.

But as for those old men, whose wisedome has auoyded such rockes, as before we men­tioned; there are none more be­neficiall to humane society, then they are: They are happy in gouernment, both of publike states, and priuate families: they can vanquish those ill affections, which transport younger minds with vnaduis [...]d fury: they can aduise young men and forgiue [...] not forgetting [Page 35] what themselues once were, and what then they thought: lastly, their graue wisedome has made them worthy, long to enioy that old age, and compose the affaires of the whole world with that ex­cellent philosophy, which experience has taught them.

GReenewich is an ancient seat of the Brittaine Kings, her situations by the Thames [Page 37] side, foure miles from London. A hill there is, that ouer tops the palace, and at a moderate dis­tance of height, takes a faire suruey both of the towne, and riuer. You ascend to the top of it, by other little hils; vpon the summity of the high hill, is a flat of great circuit. In a mor­ning, by chance I ascended thi­ther; noe man was neere me, to disturbe the recreation of my thoughts, which wandred about with delicious freedome. But the wonderfull pleasure of the place had almost sooner ra­uished my minde, then filled mine eyes, with the fayrest pro­spect, not onely in Brittaine, (but it may bee) in all Europe. A spatious plaine commanding from aboue the lesser hills, [Page 38] and those hills enuironing round that lofty plaine, did neither suddenly debatre the prospect, nor suffer the sight to bee too much dispersed through the emptie aire; the riuer Thames filling the adioyning fields with a most pleasant fruitfullnesse: and at the foote of the hill, the waues returning in manner of a ring, haue almost made an Iland of it. All along the channell, were ships of all kindes, both for warre and traffique; those, that were neare, I might who­ly discerne; those that were far­ther off, or partly hidden, by interposition of rising bankes, appeared to mine eyes by their mast, and faile yards, like a na­ked wood in the winter time.

The whole coast is most [...] [Page 39] of pasture has exempted it from tillage; nor hardly, is there ground any where more abun­dantly fruitfull for grazing of cattell. The lands of priuate men, after the manner of their coun­try, were fenced with ditches, whose bankes were adorned with rowes of trees: especially the high waies one each side were planted with poplars, that the whole valleys to him, that surueyed them, from the top of the hill, appeared like con [...]i­nued gardens, and walkes of pleasure. But the greatest de­light is, that soe faire a verdancy is almost distinguished into di­uerse colours; the places, which are fa [...]thest distant, sha­dowed [...] of the skie, doe [...] [Page 40] of trees more thick-leaued are of darker colour; the grasse on the ground presenting a thin­ner, but brighter greene: but the most beautifull obiect, is London it selfe, esteemed among the fairest of the Citties of Eu­rope, a City of innumerable houses, yet scarcely able to con­taine her people. For at the o­ther side of the Riuer Thames, it is farre extended, and adioy­neth it selfe to the neighbouring townes, soe that the buildings are continued for foure miles together. In all this space, not onely priuate houses, but faire Churches of perspicuous [...]eight doe euery where display their beauty; and the middle of the City, (like the swelling o [...] bo [...]e of a buckle [...]) is raised by the structure of their g [...]atest [Page 41] Temple.

Whilest I was carryed [...] with this suddaine delight, [...] began to recall my mind [...], and thus to consider with my selfe: what should it bee, that thus vnawares had rauished mee? why should this prospe [...]t see wonderfully please [...] whā lad­den force, or [...], had thus wrought vpon my [...] as it the C [...]ty of London? the course of the riuer? the mountaines? or the prospect of the fields; and woods? None of all these; but soe faire a variety, and the indus­try (as it were) of Nature, dis­playing her riches.

I began then to thinke with my selfe, that there was no­thing in the world soe exactly beautifull, but at last would glut. [Page 42] and weary the beholder, vnlesse after that manner (as this place was) it were beautified with contrarieties, and charge of en­dowments, to refresh continu­aly the wearied beholder with vnexpected nouelties. And, be­cause the world was to bee fra­med in perfection of beau [...]y, Nature was not forgetfull of soe great an art. Some countries shee hath lifted to the tops of mountaines: others, shee hath thrust downe into the valleys: Some, she hath scorched with immoderate heat, others, shee condemneth to extremity of winter; the residue, shee or­dained (though not equally) temperate.

All lands are not fruitfull, nor all barren: nor doe ei [...]her con­tinue soe at all times. Some [Page 43] countries, that heretofore [...], are now deformed, and couered ouer with barren [...]: others, that of old, were mise­rably barren are now growne into that abundant fertility, as to afford meanes, not onely for life, but for ryot and excesse. Soe that in the beauty of the whole world, the parts are often t [...]s­formed into manifold [...], and different appearances. Nor haue the sta [...]res, though they alwayes keepe their constant motions, the same inf [...]uences vpon inferiour bodyes, nor breede in the aire the same ef­fe [...]ts: and therefore, though all yeares doe in equall spaces fi­nish their circuits, yet does noe yeare altogether imitate that that went before, nor is the ex­a [...]t rule of the following yeare.

[Page 44] But man created after the image of the deity, and for whose sake especially, all other ornaments of the world were framed, is the greatest instance of this beauty of variety. For men haue not onely in their bo­dies a difference of habits, and proportions; but their mindes are fitted for soe many things, that noe picture can with more colours, or lineaments delight the eye of the beholder, then are drawne by the fates, in the mindes of men. What orders, or rankes of vertues and vices? what excellencies of Artes? what subtleties of wit has not Nature stored vp in this Maga­zen of wisedome? but there is noe diuersity. which is more worthy of wonder, then this, that men borne to liberty (for [Page 45] how could they else gouerne themselues, and by their owne endeauours, deserue praise, or [...]mons punishment) should also some; their ow [...]e disposi­tions, the fate of the times, wherein they liue, forcing them as it were, into certaine affecti­ons, and rules of liuing. For euery age of the world has a certaine Genius, which ouer­ruleth the mindes of men, and turneth them to some desires: Some ages breath nothing, but martiall discipline, & within few yeares, all a [...]e againe composed to peace, and quietnesse; Some­times common-wealths, and sometimes Monarchies are af­fected by the people. Some Na­tions, that seemed (as it were) to bee borne to barbarisme, in processe of time, are brought to [Page 46] perfect ciuility: and in some few ages, are peruerted againe to their old barbarisme. Soe the world in generall, did oft flou­rish with great abilities, and af­ter a while, industrie slackening hath beene couered, (as it were) with a cloud, and lost. When the affaires of Greece did flourish, what ciuility, what wit, or subtilty, was wan­ting to that Nation? Soe great was the skill of their handy-craftes men, that their carued statues of men, and beasts, did seeme almost to liue: soe fluent their oratory, soe sweete their poetry, that euen the ambition of Rome proposed them to her sons, onely to imitate, not to ex­cel. But fortune remoouing after ward to other Nations, noe peo­ple, more then the Graecians, did [Page 47] sorrowfully sigh at the mention of their ancestors, from whose ability they were then fallen.

But if wee obserue the tur­nings of the Romane Empire, and the passages of times nea­rer vnto vs, wee shall more cer­tainely discouer the changeable Geniuses of the ages. Vnder Augustus, Rome in peace had adorned her greatnesse, with all the dresses of true humanity: and among other things, her language was then in the height of purity. By small things wee may guesse at the greater. From whence proceeded soe many Poets of happy raptures, and nu­merous straines in those times, but from some certaine Spirit, which then inspired them? which had neuer before beene propitious to Italian Poets, and [Page 48] afterwards againe forsooke them. Those few yeares, from Nero to Traian had many Poets, and many that laboured in the study of Rhetorike; in whom the declining of the Roman lan­guage did plainely apeare; in­stead of the natiue beauty, and maiesty of it, which was then lost, they vsed obscure, and swel­ling heights, with forced sen­tences instead of naturall. At the same time, in the reigne of Nero, that peace was broken, which had long setled the Romane Empire, and all the world was filled with combustion; nothing, but warre was in the mindes of all men, in France, in Germany, and the vttermost parts of the Easterne world. From whence proceeded it, but from a certaine force, which I may almost call [Page 49] [...]aying the hearts of men to [...] endes, that are ordained [...] them? in the age that fol­lowed, the elegance of language w [...]s wonderfully lost; and be­cause the souldiers had all power, the manners of the people were turned backe to their old ferity. Yet humanity stroue against those mischiefes, vntill forreyne Nations inuaded the Empire; and what of all things was most miserable, noe memo­ry almost was left of the lost sciences; those that were borne in these times, seemed to bee borne, though not to a fierce, yet a blind barbarisme; and most of their ancestors, whose wri­tings contained morality, or hi­ [...]y, whi [...]e their bookes by the [...]gence of posterity were lost [...] a second & a worse death.

[Page 50] The other Arts were taught in more [...]ude and vnpolish'd wa [...]es, or e [...]e were altogether lo [...]t. Not long after, man were againe growne to the loue of learning; but such was the vn­happynesse of the times, that b [...]edd them, that they might seeke learning, but not attaine it; it wee c [...]ll that learning, which is the knowledge of an­tiquity, and iudgement, not one­ly in the schoole-subtilties, but in the highest and nobest things: and last [...]y, such a kind of instru­ction and [...]erature, as our an­cestors did honour in men of their time.

There was notwithstanding, a kinde of learning then vsed, a­greeable to the dispositions of those times: as with [...] dis­putation, and eager [...] ( [...]n­stead [Page 51] of explaying) Philosophy and Diuinity, to perplexe them more: in the Law, to extend the sentences of wise men, the de­crees of Emperours, and ordi­nances of Popes, into mad and immethodicall volumes, to the eternall vexation of the student: but most of them had gotten this way of writing, that what argument soeuer they made choyce of, they deliuered to their readers, as their owne, the words and sentences of former authors concerning that sub­iect. Soe the errour of one, was oftentimes as a slippery place for others to fall; and many from the right opinion of one man, did bo [...]row wisedome.

And what titles soeuer they gaue their bookes, they thought it not [...] dig [...]esse into [Page 52] neuer soe generall discourses. What histories written in those times, did not begin at the crea­tion of the world? what part of humane affaires, as oft as it was written by those [...]ude wits, was not drawne into a strange confusion? and that you may per­ceiue, that those men were not wanting to Nature, but Nature herselfe was straightned and sick, they were very industrious, and wanted not the signes of sin­cere wisedome, in handling those parts of science, which onely were allowed by fortune vnto that age. Which was in the Philosophers, a subtile way of disputing in the Lawy [...] a skill rather to [...] of the law, [...]en [...] of the times, [...] for­mes, and th [...] [...].

[Page 53] Last of all, in this age, that darke mist is vanished away from the mindes of men, which are now composed to all kinde of light and subtlety,

Nor is this change onely to bee obserued in the schooles of learning, the affaires of King­domes and commonwealths are more cunningly administred; wa [...]s offensiue, and defensiue, are made with more skill, and d [...]rity; and soe great a curi­osity in many trades, that what­soeuer is rude and vnpolished now, we vse with scorne to cen­sure it, as made, or likely to bee made in the dull times of our ancestors.

Nor can this change proceede from any thing but the Genius [Page 54] as it were of this age. Whose excellency, when after an ap­pointed time it shall expire, will giue vp the world, as it may be feared, vnto another, and ruder Genius; and after the expira­tion of certaine yeares, returne againe Soe that wee may distin­guish the difference of the ages, not more perfectly by the mo­tions of the sta [...]rs then by the de [...]exion of mankinde into diuers dispositions, and abili­ties.

But there is another force, that rauisheth away the mindes of men, and maketh them ad­dicted to certaine affections. Namely, that spirit which be­ing appropriate to euery region, infuseth into men, as soone as they are borne, the habit, and affections of their owne coun­try. [Page 55] For, as the same meates ac­cording to the various manners of dressing, may bee changed in tast, but the inward quality of nourishing, or hurting, can by noe qualification be altogether lost: soe in euery Nation among all the tides of succeeding ages, wh [...]ch alter the manners and m [...]d [...]s of men, one certaine [...] neuer to bee shaken oft, which the fates haue [...] to euery man, accor­di [...]g to the condition of the place, wherein hee was borne. [...] hence come those anci­en [...] v [...]s, which still endure, as proper to the c [...]imate, which in histo [...]ies haue comme [...]ded [...]rbranded whole Nations: as heere, the people are naturally light, vnconstant, and wauering in their resolutions: there, the [Page 56] grosser and grauer mindes, are naturally swelled with a melan­choly pride, vnder the shew of hidden wisedome. Some Nati­ons end [...]re not thirst: Some people with extemporary wits, are able to encounter any sud­daine alteration, or vnexpected businesse. Some Nations are im­placable in desire of reuenge: Some, as it were by right of in­heritance, enioy a perpetuity of the highest vertues: Some peo­ple are naturally plaine-dealing, others subtil, and many vali­ant. And s [...]eing that nothing is more beneficiall, then from the Genius of diuerse Nations to be [...] enformed, as to know how to behaue our selues in different countries, and what from euery place to expect or feare; it will [...]e worth our labour, to define [Page 57] here the especiall manners of some Nations, that from the common disposition of many men, we may finde out the pri­uate in particular persons. Nor will there be found soe supersti­tious a louer of the place of his birth, but will bee contented to heare some vices named in the character of his owne country. For if Nature did neuer forme any mortall man of such accom­plished abilities, but that some­thing in him, as the last hand of the workeman, was still wan­ting: what pride were it in any man to exempt whole prouin­ces from this publike fate? and disdaine to bee borne in such a place, as is subiect to er­rours, that is among man­kinde? farre hence bee all will­full partiality to our owne, [Page 58] and enuious detraction from o­ther countries. Let vs sincerely acknowledge our owne vices, and bee truely delighted with the contemplation of vertue in others.

Therefore before that with a serious and sequestred con­templation, wee begin to consi­der the dispositions of people, let vs suruey the world, as from a tower, and looke who now are the inhabitants and masters of it. Asia, and Affrica swallo­wed vp by the power of Barba­rian [...], and the great calamity of Greece, and Thrace, haue thrust, and confined ciuill humanity to these vtermost parts of Europe; that we, soe often oppressed by the fierce Barbarians, and guel­ded, as it were, of our richest countries, might learne truely [Page 59] to account our owne streng [...]h, or feare the st [...]eng [...]h of others. But we insensible of these euils, a [...]d oppressed with a deadly and pestilent slumber, haue neither feared the hand or heauen, nor combined the streng [...]h of those pro [...]i [...]ces, which are yet left vs, against the [...] th [...]ea [...]nings of those ba [...]barous Nations. But on the contrary, haue most im­piously wasted, by fa [...]tious and q [...]rre [...]s, our owne strength, and by [...] divided that, which tho [...]gh combined into one [...]o­dy, [...]ad beene searce of s [...]ci­ [...] strength. But at the last, the [...] of these combustions ey­the [...] [...] [Page 60] differed in dispos [...]tions and lan­guage, soe could they not bee guided by the same Arts, These were the French, Brittain [...], Ita­lians, and Spaniards, and all that mighty people comprehended vnder the name of Germany. The reliques also of Pannonia, and as much of Illyrium and Dalmatia, as is now left vs: those Sarmatians and Scythians, which are now called Polonians and Mosco [...]ites: the Cimbrians also, and what euer is contained within the dominions of Den­marke and Sw [...]thland; nor are we soe farre (oh misery) remoo­ued from the Turkes, but that wee haue occasion to acquaint our selues with their dispositi­ons and manner of liuing.

In the manners of these peo­ple, we may consider the riches [Page 61] of Nature, with a delicious and profitable meditation, which in a mixture, resembling the members of a body, hath in­uolued the habits and affecti­ons of soe many different minds. But to examine all other climats with the same diligence, were more for the curiosity of plea­sure, then the profitable vse of commerce or conuersation. For who but Merchants goe into Affrick, and there vpon the shore, or by chance, by riuer, somewhat farther into the country, doe tra [...]ique suddenly, or make bargaines of noe great trast or friendship. The Persians not onely by impiety or super­stition, but a great distance of sea and land, are diuided from vs; I [...]dia in like manner is visited by none but Mer­chants, and Sailers, except [Page 62] the Lucanians who frequent those places and there settle their plantations; the people of China doe abhorie all fellow­ship with forreyne Nations. Nor doe any of our people de­sire at all to commerce with that sordid, and (or the most part) miserable Nation of the Tartars. America, as faire as it is ciuil [...]zed at all, is possessed by the Spaniard onely; soe that none oth [...]r besides th [...]mse [...]ues, may with safe [...]y comme [...]ce, or [...] there. It is therefore expedient, or indeed lawfull, for [...]one but the Spaniard, to know the dispo [...]tions of those peo­ple. But those parts of America [...] naked barba [...]isme, ab­ho [...]ed by mankinde, is [...] by the [...] people, [...] noe l [...]wes nor industrie [...]; [Page 63] haue beene diligently ob­serued by some o [...] our men, who in hope or gaine haue gone thi­ther.

The Natures of those rude people are incapable of our ci­uility. They account all [...] an­gers, that a [...]riue on their coasts, as enemyes, & ensna [...]ers of their liberty; neither a [...]e those igno­rant and sauage mind [...] destitute of subtlity to imp [...]ous a [...]ts; cru­elty & treachery, ins [...]cad of pru­dence and true fortitude, they often excercise.

What profit will it bee, to exa­mine farther the manners of these people, who by a barbar­ous wildenes haue seemed, as it were, to forsake Nature? espe­cially, seeing they containe themselues within their owne shores, and admit noe forr [...]iners [Page 64] vnlesse vpon compulsion, or some slight occasion of s [...]ddaine tra [...]lique.

But to leaue those Nations, which are eyther vnknowne to vs, or by too great a distance of sea, and land, too farre diuided from our acquaintance; to exa­mine the inhabitants and Geni­us of our owne world; the ha­bit of each country, the condi­tion of the soyle, the temper of the aire, or distemper in eyther kinde, will not be impro­per to our present discourse.

GAllia, according to the ancient bounds, the grea­test almost of all the Prouinces in Europe, (a terrour heretofore to the Romane Empire, and renow­ned by victories against Greece, and Asia) is now distingui­shed into diuerse Kingdomes, and different manners What­soeuer is bounded within the Rhene, the Ocean, the Alpes, and Pyre [...]an mountaines, was once comprised vnder the name of Gallia. It extended moreouer, f [...]om the farther side of the Alpes, to the riuer Rubicon, and lay heauy vpon the Romane ter­ritories. For the Gaules a vali­ant Nation, inuading Italy, [Page 66] sacking and fiting the City of Rome, were soe great a terror to the Romane Senate, that a decree was made, that as often as the Gaules were vp in armes, not the Priests, nor old men, should bee exempted from the duties of war [...]e. It was after­ward subdued by the power of Rome, but then when in it selfe it was diuided by domesticke factions, nor did th [...]y [...], wholly vn [...]ted, eyther know perfectly their ow [...]e st [...]ength, or make tryall of [...] against Italy. In processe of [...] people out of the [...], called Franks [...], inuaded Gallia, and [...]ned to red [...]ce it to a second [...]ondage. But when they were conquerours, they mixed [...]hemselues with the con­quered Nation, and seemed not [Page 67] soemuch to haue subdued the Gaules, as the Romans which possess [...]d Gallia. The country then being [...] among ma [...]y Princes; that part onely retai­ned the old name, which was possessed by [...]he French; a Na­tion of great vertu [...] a [...] renow­ned in deedes, and well deser­uing, that [...] to their praise, should make vse of the vanity of the common fable, to stile them the reliques of the Cry of Troy.

This Rea [...]me of France, the fairest and richest of all Prouinces in the Westerne world, see­meth w [...]thin it selfe at happy a m [...]lation betwixt the Genius and dispositions of the inhabi­tants, and the riches and temper of the Land it selfe.

The country aboundeth euery [Page 68] where with corne and wine; fertile in oyle, and all fruits, which brooke not a raw ayre. Especially, that part which is more Westerly: or lyeth necrer to the Alpes, or Ligurian seas. There is noe land in the whole world, for the extent of it, that en [...]icheth the inhabitants with more blessings. It abo [...]ndeth soe much wi [...]h all kinde of wealth, that it vses to tra [...]lique with for [...]eyne Nations, for nothing almost, but pleasure onely. For nothing but royt in this weal­thy people, did set an high price vpon the silkes of Italy, and the cunning work manships of the German Nation. But their traf­fique with Brittaine, doth bring them Merchandise, if not altoge­ther necessary, yet certainely of great profit; which affordeth [Page 69] them both for vse, and orna­ment, great abundance of Lead, Tinne, and Saffron. But France, beside her corne, wherewith she relieueth the barrennesse of Spaine, and wi [...]es, which shee sendeth into the neighbouring and colder countries, is rich also in hempe and fiaxe, whereby she supplyeth the want of sailes, cordage and such tackling nece­ssary for, shipping in many Nati­ons. By which merchandise great plenty of gold is daily brought into that country, though the ground afford noe mines of it; and those Nations, which with paineful: diligence digge it out of the bowells of the earth, and with care transport it from the farthest regions, doe seeme but seruants to labour for [Page 70] the felicity of France.

In soe large a country, com­posed of soe m [...]y and soe great prouinces, noe one part is bar­ren, or negle [...]ted. o [...] Nature, but all enriched by h [...]r great fauour. For these vast parts of Aquit­aine, which may seeme vnfruit­ful [...], are neither void [...] inhabi­tants, no [...] v [...]pleasant vnto them; that coūtry is s [...]ored with [...]ood enriched with [...] of high price, and abounding with p [...]en­ty of daintie fow [...]e: that what­soeuer it wants in frui [...]fullnesse of soyle, which is there sandy, as m [...]h it [...]s indebted to the temper of [...].

France is beg [...]ted at one side by the Ocean, at the other by the M [...]diterranean Sea, which f [...]oweth fro [...] [...]he coasts of Spaine, and Affrick as [...] as [Page 71] Aegypt. A situation soe com­ [...]dions for sea-tr [...]lihque, that [...] may send out [...] into any sea o [...] note, and arriue at any [...], if the Frenchmen could delight as well in sailing, as in horsemanship, and en [...]ertaine lasting p [...]oiects, as well as sud­daine ones.

The people in generall, are louers of their Prince, and ve­ry obedient; their King does truely raigne, and they ccount it a crime to question the great­nesse of his pre [...]ogatiue. They are able in feates of warre, espe­cia [...]ly the horsemen; free from perfidiousnesse, especially in publike counsells; of an vncur­bed strength within themselues but when they inuade a for­reyne Nation, their heate and fury is quickly forgotten: by [Page 72] that meanes they possesse not long any forreyne conquest, and are onely powerful to their own destruction. They haue con­quered heretofore by often vic­tories, Lombardy, Naples, Sicily, and many other prouinces in the world; but within a while, they haue too securely con [...]emned their enemies not wholly sub­dued, or out of an inconside­rate, and open disposition, too much trusted to their co [...]nter­feit obedience; or else they have vsed their victory with too great a licence, and more wan­tonly insulted them the nature of those Nations was able to suffer; or last of all, to forget they warrs, and thinke of th [...] [...] coun­try, whose absence the [...] are not long able to [...]. By these vices, the [...] come a pr [...]y [Page 73] to those Nations ouer whom they haue triumphed, and their wa [...]s, which haue begun pros­perously, haue oft ended in dis­honour, and losse.

Noe men in the world haue a Nature more fitted for manly behauiour. A bold countenance, gesture, and motion, becom­ming the whole body. And this comely garbe is an ornament to the vertue of braue men; but to weake soules it serues but as a vizor, or naturall co [...]erture to hide, or qualify their abiect m [...]ndes. soe elegant and grace­ful is their carriage, that what fashion of attire soeuer (among a [...]l their [...] variety of fashi­ [...]) they are pleased to take, or [...] of body in their [...], you will still thinke [...] could become thē [...].

[Page 74] But their neighbouring Na­tions dece [...]ed with a ridiculous errour, and hoping to attaine the behauiour of the French, by a [...] of their ap­parrell, and garbes of [...]rindging: not knowing that in gestures of grace, euery thing by the same Genius, is ma [...]e pleasing in some men; but in o [...]hers whom N [...]ture ha [...]h not enriched with those changeable habit, sa studi­ous imitation of s [...]chd [...]lecta­ble garbes is not onely vnplea­sing, but most ridiculous.

For vertues and vices, and what euer motions are bred in the in­nermost lo [...]gings o [...] the soule, may easily be counterfeited, for these affections are [...] closely hidden, and farre from the sight, that noe man can discouer whi­ther they be true or not. Soe we [Page 75] may easily dissemble humility, hatred, loue, or piety. But those things, which are not onely done by the gouernement of the minde, but by custome, and the outward hability and fitnesse of the body, thou canst neuer counterfeit, when Nature doth s [...]iue against it. As a comely posture, and carriage of the body, a facility in reasting, a grace in speaking, are things no [...] begotten in the inne [...], but the outward man. But these things being most eminent in the French behauiour, can neuer be attained, nor imitated by thee, vnlesse thy Genius of his owne record haue disposed thee for that way.

But the world can neuer bee [...] thankefull to the [...] of France, which [Page 76] seemeth to open a temple of h [...] manity, or sanctuary for [...] of all forreynes to fl [...] vnto. They consider not the country, but the worth of a m [...] and make not a stranger, o [...] new-dweller among them (a [...] cording to the errour of other Nations) to suffer for the pla [...] of birth, which chance allo [...]e him: soe with a simple and fr [...] loue of vertue, they admire [...] men (what country m [...] [...]) without any c [...]y, a [...] are gl [...]d to see then [...] reward of the huma [...]ty, the [...] [...] [Page 77] [...]to the French State. Nor neede [...]hose strangers to put of the [...] of their owne country, [...]nd imitate the garbe of France, [...]e their carriage bee free from [...]ride or barba [...]isme. For the ve­ [...]y profession of a forreine fashi­ [...] will moone the desires of [...]hat curious Nation, who with [...]ore simplicity admire for­ [...]eine then their owne customes; [...]somuch as that some vices of [...]fe, and blemishes of body, haue [...]eene there in esteeme, if [...]rought from another country. For wee haue seene the elo­quence of a forreiner, euen for [...]he often errours of his tongue, [...] beene more pleasing; and [...] a great opinion of wise­dome, because they were not vnderstood.

[Page 78] The common people are true­ly respectiue of the gentry, not out of feare, or institution onely: and againe, their greatest no­bility are by the same Genius honour'd by inferiour Gentle­men; but pride, or disdaine, they cannot brooke; if thou wouldst seeme to domineere, they are ashamed to serue. A curteous behauiour, which by artificiall countenances, and gentle glances is expressed vnto them, or by familiarity of dis­course with them, will gaine to the Princes more o [...]icious seruants, then the greatnesse of [...] power and dignity can doe. All wealth, and life it selfe i [...] of lesse esteeme among them, then honour; especially, the Spirits of their great Princes doe often f [...]ye out, both to their [Page 79] owne damage, and their coun­tries affliction, because the very experience, and [...] of poue [...] ­ty it s [...]fe, can perswade none of them to vndertake Merchan­dise, or any profitable course of trade. They are pleased with a preposterous ambition, to a mu­late the greatnesse of their an­cestors, and conceiue it a dis­paragement to noble blood, to liue in a calling like the common people. Soe the vaine name of Nobility, and foolish ostenta­tation of magnificent idlenesse, doth arme them with patience against the burthen of their cares, which doe neuer leaue them before their death. This loftynesse of minde, although it please themselues, and seeme to bee farre from all basenesse, is often corrupted by almost [Page 80] necessary wickednesse, and rai­ses in their poore fortunes a turbulent industry, eyther by se­cret villanies, or publike com­motions to st [...]e to repell the contempt of pouerty.

Merchandise is baselier estee­med of there, then befits a thing of soe great vtility, and which first did spread humanity through all the world. Selon the famous Athenian Lawmaker, and most of the Gracians, which were famed to our eares, trans­ported their commodities by such tra [...]fique into forreine countries, and acquainted their countrymen likewise with the riches of other lands.

Nor doth Italy disdaine that custome, where the Noblest fa­milies by industrie in merchan­dise, doe heape vp wealth. Brit­tnry [Page 81] likewise accounteth not her blood of Gentry any way debased by such a calling.

But in France, not onely the ancient Gentry doe alto­gether disdaine this way of thriuing, but the merchants themselues, as if ashamed of their calling, when they are growne rich, doe bring vp their sonnes in some other dis­cipline, enioyning them, as it were, to looke higher then their fathers did.

But the high mindes of the French Nation are in nothing more perfectly discerned, then the eager pursuite of Magi­stracies, where the shame­full sale of them doth exclude the needy, how vertuous soe­uer.

[Page 82] To vndoe their families, to con­sume their estates and credits too, is not thought vnfit, to purchase an eminency aboue their equals, and repaire the ruines of their patrimony, ey­ther by a bare dignity, or by cor­ruption and bribery in their o [...]ices. Nor is there any doubt, but that strange itch after titlts and places, vnlesse of [...] selfe it doe abate, will at last d [...]file all o [...]ices, gouernements, and iudg­ment-seates, with men of the basest blood, and lowest dispo­sitions. For many from the ba­sest trades, doe sooner arriue at great riches, then those who are noted of ancient Nobility, and liue according to the dig­nity of their birth. By this meanes of money onely, whilest they contend about the pur­chase [Page 83] of a gouernement, or place of rastice, they doe most often carry it away, which are of ba­ [...]est blood, and least ability in [...]derstanding. Besides, the gentlemen of good descent are not soe forward toth ow away their estates vpon such digni­ties, as vpstarts are, who are hasty with gold, to bring their children out or obscurity, S [...] buy for their families that splendour of Nobility, which the ancient gentlemen, without any cost, doe chal [...]enge as a part of their inheritance.

Soe by little and little, these honours may grow to bee onely in the possession of the basest men, and ( [...] onely bought for money) by reason of their [...], bee c [...]nsured as a token [...] Neither is the po­ [...]cy [Page 84] of the royall exchequer to [...]ce much accused, although it [...]ncrease by the money of such [...]ficers. For who would not [...]hinke it farre fitter, that those [...]ignities should at a set rate be [...]old by the Prince, who vnder­ [...]oes the burden of the State in [...]enerall, then secretly to bee [...]ade a prey to the couetous­ [...]esse of the Noblemen, who [...]oe oftentimes thrust officers [...]pon the King, whom they haue [...]eene bribed to commend, and what they freely obtaine from [...]heir master, they sell againe vn­ [...]o others? Soe that the com­ [...]onwealth can haue noe better [...]hoice of Magistrates by that [...]eanes; and it is indifferent to [...]hose ambitious purchasers whither they suffer for their [...]mbition from the King, or [Page 85] from Noblemen; since both waies tend equally to the ruine of their estates.

These things therefore ha­uing beene first instituted vpon reasonable grounds, are now growne into extremity, by the madnesse of the buyers, who doe now exclude all ver­tue of but reasonable wealth, and at the rate of their whole estates purchase those digni­ties, whose price their owne madnesse has soe much enhaun­sed.

But as wines, the more ge­nerous they will afterward grow, the more thicke of lees they will bee when they are young; soe the young men of this Nation, made for humani­ty, and wisedome in old age, [Page 86] are carryed away with the grea­test rashnesse, and wildnesse of behauiour The young men are giuen to a strange freedome of bold [...]esting, and prouoking, both strangers, and their owne acquaintance, and euery where affecting tit [...]es of too great se­curity. Vnconstant, mindes, and easily carryed away with any rumors; sometimes impatient of idlenesse, sometimes of busi­nesse; a foolish o [...]entation and bragging of their lusts, more then by Nature they are encli­ned to; inconsiderate, and vn­discreete sco [...]fings, which spare none. Their stirring, and hot af­fections impatient of rest, breake out into various and troublesome motions. But some of them in the beginning of all businesses, doe put on a fai­ned [Page 87] noe true wisedome, and therefore expressed with the greater shew: as if they were tempered with mature iudge­ment, they put on a stay'd coun­tenance, expressing subtlety ioy­ned with humanity, and vtter their words with long delibera­tion. To which according to the Nature of it, they haue found out a name, calling it f [...]gidity.

But that counterfeiting of vertue, is then altogether vn­pleasing, nor long can their cun­ning hide that leuity, which will shew it selfe in spite of all disguises. But the middle dispo­sition betweene these two, which is not wanting in that Nation of the French, f [...]owing with cheerfullnesse and capa­c [...]ousnesse of minde, not brid [...]ed [Page 88] too much with a fained grauity; is a disposition of transcendent excellency, and exactly framed to the image of wisdome ioined with alacrity.

But one thing in the Natures of the French is very vnhappy, that that loue and curtesie, which in their owne countries they expresse euen to strangers; abroad they will hardly shew to their owne countrymen. Who would beleeue, that people of soe great humanity, should not agree together in a forreine Land, Birds brought together into one cage forbeare to fight with each other; and beasts which wander out of the woods together to seeke prey, by the [...]llowship of their fate are con­ [...] [Page 89] in loue and amity. Onely the F [...]enchmen, when they conuerse in another land, especially if they bee poore, and seeke re­liefe by the seruice of a forreine State, soe quarrell among them­selues with a most cruell aemu­lation.

How many secret scoff [...]s, vn­seemely enuies, professed quar­rels, and ridiculous contentions, citing each other before for­reyne Magistrates, doe arise a­mong them? contending in this manner among themselues, they cast an infamous aspersi­on vpon their Nation, as if they were a people borne to enuy, incapable of quiet, or of that loue, wherewith Nature hath secretly combined the Citizens of one country.

[Page 90] This fault of the Frenchmen in forreyne countries is more cruelly raging in the bowels of their owne land; where in all places, like swordplayers con­demned to the theater, vpon suddaine and rash quarrels, they violently hazard their liues in single duells. A most horrid thing [...] a miserable opprobry of these times! a flight quarrell, arising onely out of ambition of argument, or an innocent iest, or oftentimes onely a thirst of fame in turbulent dispositions doth hurry with violence the mad young men into most mise­rable slaughters, and vtter ex­tinguishing of Noble families. From hence, soe often are the purposes of miserable parents intercepted, and their hopes vt­terly lost; and peace almost in [Page 91] vaine established in France; as much Noble blood shed (well nigh) in these priuate combates, a [...] in time of a publike warre. What madnesse is this? after the manner of beasts, not with reason, but choller, to reuenge their ini [...]ies, and put the iudge­ment of their greatest matters vpon the tryall of a stage art and fortune, which often decei­ues the skilfu [...]est in that art? that whosoeuer can most fortunate­ly fight, should make himselfe the iustest quarrell? wilde Na­tions, which came among vs from barbarisme it selfe did not long agoe infect the world with their brutish manners. They were the first beginners of a custom, that vpon doubtful ti­tles of estate, where the proofes were obscure on both sides, the [Page 92] cause by a combate should bee decided. The combatants did meete in an open [...], or siage, and hee that was vanqui [...]ed, was iudged to haue the worse cause. From thence the originall of this madnesse proceeded, which doth now infest the age, and going beyond the first bounds, a [...] then it was onely at the disposing of the Magistrate, it now rageth licentio [...]sly ac­cording to the humors and cho­lers of priuate men.

But the pretence for this sword­play, whither more accepted [...]or the show, or profit of it, [...]s the furtherance of sk [...]l in [...]ighting. For who can deny, that skillfull art of striking with the [...]word, or auoyding the blowes, which were aimed at him, [...]s a thing appertaining to the [Page 93] military ar [...]? this the Graecians, the Romanes and euery Nation hard [...] in armes, haue sought af­te [...], with great intention.

But now they f [...]ght, not as e [...]cl [...]sed and [...] in the pre [...]e of an army (as war [...]s are mad [...]) but as it were in the free­dom [...] of an open theater; they trau [...]se their gro [...]nd, [...]hey shift their bodies with all ag [...]li­ty, and by safe proffers of the hand, and g [...]ances of the eye, they deceiue [...] her, [...] doe rather (as euery man may see) enable [...]heir m [...]de [...]ous cru­elty vpo [...] [...] hatreds, then instru [...]t themselues in a pious [...] of th [...]r coun­try and [...]ow their rage, [...]uen betweene friends and kin­dred, [...]ul [...]leth the height of [Page 94] madnesse and all impiety. Kins­men and most familiar acquain­tance vpon noe heinous iniuries but vaine exceptions at idle wordes, or almost for nothing, are engaged in quarrels and em­brued in each others blood: and which you may iustly censu [...] the highest degree of madnesse, they fight, not onely [...]pon their owne iniuries, but wickedly enter­pose themselues into the quar­rels of others, and engaged in hat [...]eds, which belong not vnto them, they sac [...]i [...]ce themselues, and the dearest of their friends. For they freely goe, when by these men, which are to fight, and a [...]e loth to die alone, they are [...] to th [...]s mortail play as it [...]ere to a supp [...] recrea­tion; and there doe [...] doubt to [...] should [Page 95] be neere and deare to man; out of a most foolish desire of fame, that they may bee sayd with a great contempt of life to haue gon into the field; that is, to [...]aue vndertaken a most horrid cruelty out of a barbarous igno­rance of true valour.

But these euils, and whatso­euer else haue crept into the dis­positions of the French, may be well excused, for the vertues of those men whom the maturity of age, or weight of iudgement doth soe temper, as that they are not carryed away with their country-vices. There is in them a wonderfull cu [...]tesie, not feig­ned, nor trecherous, to ensnare them whom they court with friendship; they are free from dec [...]it, and secret hatre [...]s; they are free to entertaine all, who [Page 96] desire their acquaintance, a [...]d society; and respectiue of all men according to their degrees and rankes.

It is enough for a forreiner, which is admitted into their company, to preserue their friendship, if he keepe himselfe from open villay, and too ab­surd fo [...]y; soe that in other places thou had'st neede haue a care of other men dispos [...] ­ons, least they [...]urt thee: but a­mong true, and accomplished Fre [...]chmen, to keepe thy selfe from giuing offence. Nor is thei [...] any thing more happy in humane society, then the ma [...]ly sweet [...]esse o [...] such com­pleat company.

THe greatnesse of Brittaine (though it bee an Island of large extent, and exposed to many and different seas) may be rather esteemed by the seue­rall and vnlike manners of her inhabitants, then by the names and harbours of soe many shores: As if in the Ocean Brit­ [...]a [...]e alone were another world all kinde of dispositions are to bee found in her inhabi­tants.

There is not a fayrer Island [...] the whole world. Sicily, Crete, and Cyprus, though they haue all carryed the state, and names of Kingdomes, [Page 98] if they were all ioyned into one [...] were not able, eyther in circuit, or wealth, to equall Brit­taine. Being in former times a valiant Nation, they gaue oc­casion of many fabulous stories, which by forreyne wits, and languages were commonly written and read; as if nothing could be fained soe strange, but might be atchieued by the peo­ple of Brittaine: it was once diuided into nine Kingdomes. But afterward by continuall warrs, and frequent leagues, those Monarchies, and their bounds were often changed; vntill at the last, the whole Island became subiect to three Princes. The colonyes of Saxony whom we call English, are ga­thered together vnder the feli­city of one s [...]epter: the reliques [Page 99] of the old Brittaines, which con­stantly cleare to the Cambrian Mountaines, and are cal'ed [...]: Thirdly, the Scots, inhabiting the North part of the Island, to whom a remnaut of the Picts, who were almost [...]ooted out, haue ioyned them­s [...]lues. But Wales in a sho [...]t time vnable in warre to resist the strength of all England, was ioyned to that scepter. The Scots though despairing euer to bee able to conquer England, yet dis­daining to yeeld vnto it, as an ar­gument of lasting aemulation, contended with the English, not more stiffely by warre, then by a different and auerse Nature from them: vntill the fates con­demning at last this pe [...]nicious [...]mulation, conioyned them both vnder one King, by whose [Page 100] spirit, as it were, the whole Island is now vnited in one body.

England abounding in rich pastures, and ground fruitfull in procreation of diuerse, and different trees, doth euery where delight the eyes of the beholders with a most beauti­full verdancy: the easie and free encrease of fruite doth nourish the sloth of the common peo­ple. The fertile, and fat grounds doe euery where yeild such a­bundance of pasture for horses, and bullocks, as sufficeth the perpetuall greedinesse of those beasts: in other places, where the ground is dryer, and clo­thed with short grasse, it fee­deth innumerable flockes of sheepe, excusing the barren­nesse of the soile with an incre­dible [Page 101] profit, which is made of wooll; not the sharpnes of win­ter (vnlesse perchance it prooue harder then vsuall) doth driue their cattell, which are euer ac­customed to the open ayre, into stalls or houses. They are vsually contented with open sleepes in the cold fields, and such pasture as the moderate warmth of the winter doth nourish. For the winters are not there so sharpe as the climate, and neerenesse of the North would make vs imagine, when in France where it is neerely opposite to the coast of Brittaine, the winters are extreme, and much more rigid in the ayre of Holland.

In so great an indulgence and fauour of the ayre, the grounds of Brittaine doe with great ease receiue, and foster the [Page 102] seedes of all fruite.

They haue tall Baytrees, and Rosemary, which is precious in many countries, by reason of the care in planting and prese [...] ­uing of it, is there common, and growing oftentimes in hedges, as a fence for gardens. The country is able to foster vines, and bring grapes to full ripe­nesse. For the pleasant & fruitfull mountaines o [...] Kent, and Hamp­s [...]ire, with other places situated to the South, or East, had here­tofore vin [...]yards, which after­wards they omitted to cherish, by reason of the commodity of [...] there, and the cheap­nesse of wine transported from Aquitance. Wolues also are rooted out of that part of the country, and doe not vexe the flocks of Sheepe, which freely [Page 103] gra [...]e, and often times without the guard of a dogge.

For the diligence of their forefa­thers, when the rage of wolues was exceeding fierce, and de­ceiued or wearied the care of the shepheards, rooted out by great industry the whole race of them; soe that the hardi­nesse of their cattell, which are able to endure the open ayre in all seasons, and the destruction of wolues, doe bring vnto the people an inestimable wealth. The inhabitants at ease, and al­most forgetting labour, doe grow rich in victuals, hides, and fleeces, as benefits which the ground of her owne boun­ty doth bestow vpon them. They scarce take any paines at all in nourishing of saffron, whereof they haue store, and [Page 104] exceeding good; the herbe it selfe, not in reward of care, and industry, but of her owne ac­cord, opening and offering her treasure to them. And that no­thing might be wanting to soe prosperous a fortune, they haue felt noe inuasion of forreyne souldiers for many ages: home­bred commotions in this age are very seldome: neither doe warrs euer long continue in England as in other Lands. In the compasse of eight dayes, many times are great insurrec­tions begun and ended. They warre with men, not with houses, and goods; and com­motions, but fresh, and newly risen, are suddainly decided in set battells.

By reason of wealth so easily accrewing, the carelesse, and [Page 105] rich common people, are not a little puffed vp. Soe that ney­ther (according to the vse of other Nations (doe they hum­bly reuerence the dignity of their Nobles, nor are they in­dustrious, or skillfull in handy­crafts by reason of their ease, and plenty. For those that are bound to any trade, doe for the most part finish their appren­tiship in seauen yeares; after which time they are free of the company, and then, as if themselues were exempted from-labour, they take other apprentices to be vnder them: who after a short learning are employed as iourneymen. They themselues, not onely on so­lemne, and festiuall daies, but e­uery holy-day (who would be­leeue it?) doe freely take their [Page 106] ation and pleasure, if it be faire weather, in the fields adioyning, or, if it be rainy, are merry in tauernes. Which causeth a dull and vnskillfull trading, trusted to the knowledge of their ap­prentices, and the buyers are more peremptorily raised to greater prices, that the worke of the apprentices, and the idle­nesse of the Masters may be soe maintained. But yet notwith­standing, some kindes of work­manship wrought both with industry and most exact skill, and highly prized through the whole world, doe sufficiently declare, that in that country there is noe fault in the climate, to dull their wits, but too much abundance to make them idle. For as for the stirring vp of wits, and cherishing of Arts, [Page 107] too cruell, and rigorous a go­uernment is not at all good, too much depressing the mindes of the people, and dulling them with despaire; soe too plenti­full, and wanton a fortune, which intendeth labour, but onely, as it were, in recreation, and sport, can neuer raise the industry and ability of the com­mon people, to an exact dili­gence and skill in Arts.

There are noe tributes pay­ed any where in that great Kingdome, nor stations of Pub­licans in Cities, or the passages of bridges, except only in those places, where shipping is set forth into forreyne countries. For they are strictly tyed to make acknowledgement vnto those, who are fanners of the Kings customs, of all Merchan­dise [Page 108] whatsoeuer is brought in­to the Kingdome, or carried out.)

But the pride of the com­mon people is not more bitter, and distastfull towards stran­gers, then towards their owne gentry, who account them­selues equall almost to the best and ancientest of them. By which pride of the clownes, the gentlemen doe suffer in some, sort for the richnesse of their country, and are brought almost into an hatred of that pretious cause of their indig­nation.

They are all in generall grea [...] honorers of the Nobility, which is confined within the small number of those whom they call Lords. Those are, Dukes, Marquesses, Earles, and [Page 109] Barons: all the sonnes of Dukes and Marquesses, and the eldest sonnes of Earles; in equall ho­nour with these the piety of their ancestors hath placed Bishops. To these Noblemen it is not thought a disparage­ment, for any tostoope to the lowest seruice; and the Nobles vnderstand well enough, that the people seated, as it were on the ground, doe behold with admiration their height, nor are those dignities bought by the common people for money, but descend to their heires by right of inheritance, or new Noble­men by the grant of the King, are aduanced into those de­grees; and that you may not thinke it a vaine title, many Lawes and priuiledges doe en­crease the respect of those high names.

[Page 110] For if it happen that a Lord be in debt, and not able to pay, the creditours can haue no law to attach his body; though the bodies of other debtors, euen before iudgement, are impri­soned in England. But this is a greater and more glorious pri­uiledge, that Noblemen being accused of the greatest crimes, as namely treason to their coun­try, are notwithstanding free from the racke; the ma [...]ers of the law would not haue it ima­gined, that truth, if no [...] other­wise, could bee forced from them, by racking or tor­ment.

The English for the most part graue, of retired spirits, and fit for counsell; they ad­mire themselues, and the man­ne [...], wits, and dispositions of [Page 111] their owne Nation. When they silute, or write letters, they scorne to descend to comple­ments of feined seruice, which the flattery of these ages haue brought vp, vnlesse it be these, which are infected with for­reyne behauiour. The people are studious of sea-businesse; nor is there any stronger de­fence of that great Island then the diligence of soe many say­lers. They are as good souldiers by land as by sea, especially when they are accustomed to another ayre, and haue tasted of forreyne diet, which whilest it is nouelty to them, they af­fect with too much greedinesse

For those inconueniences of gurmundizing, haue beene of­ten the consumption of a [...]mies brought from Brittaine. And [Page 112] when that Nauy, which was sent by Queene Elizabeth, ar­riued on the shores of Portu­gall, and had wasted the coun­try, and defeated their enemies, the immoderate heate, and the sweetenesse of apples, and ber­ries, which that climate affor­ded, destroyed almost the whole army. They contemne all dangers, and death it selfe, with more courage, then iudg­ment; and hence it comes, that they are the best souldiers, when they are gouerned by wise captaines; but when they goe on of their owne accord, possessed with the blindnesse of that desperate valour, they haue reason, after sad defeates to accuse themselues more then their ill fortune. In the late warrs of the Low-countries, [Page 113] some souldiers of the Spanish party were taken by the Hol­landers, and were to be hanged, in requitall of the enemies cruelty, who had vsed their pri­soners in the like manner. But the Hollanders did not intend to execute them all. Of foure and twenty (for soe many were taken prisoners) eight onely were appointed to bee hanged, and the rest to escape with life. There were lots therefore throwne into a helmet, and the prisoners were commanded to draw their fortunes, whoso­euer should draw a blanke, was to escape death; but whosoeuer should draw a blacke lot, was to bee hanged presently. They were all pos­sessed with a great apprehen­sion of their present danger: [Page 114] especially one Spaniard with pittifull wishes, and teares, in some of the standers by, did mooue pity, in others laughter: There was besides in that dan­ger, a certaine Englishman, a common so [...]ldier, who with a carelesse countenance, expres­sing noe feare of death at all, came boldly to the helmet, and drew his lot; chance fauoured him; it was a safe lot. Being free himselfe from danger, hee came to the Spaniard, who was yet timo [...]ous, and trembled to put his hand into the fatall hel­met; and receiuing from him ten crownes, hee entreated the Iudges (oh horrid audacityl) that dismissing the Spaniard, they would suffer him againe to try his fortune. The Iudges consented to the mad mans [Page 115] request, who valewed his life at soe low a rate; and he againe drew a safe lot, a wretch y [...] ­worthy nor onely of that dou­ble, but euer of a single preser­ [...]ation, who soe basely had vn­dervalewed his life.

The lawes, which the En­glish vse, were deliuered them by the Norman Csnquerors in the French tongue, but o [...]so­lete, and differing from the lan­guage which is now spo [...]en. They are sew, and very ambi­guous. Much dependeth vpon custome, and the opinions of Iudges; soe that a great way is left open to con [...]entions, to an infinite power of Iudges, and the close dispositions of the people, who seeme to retaine the fashions, as it were, of their Norman originall; doe [Page 116] open themselues in subtleties, which fill the courts with per­petuall wranglings. From whence I thinke that common­ [...]able tooke first originall, that the Englishmen had long tailes.

They endure with soe con­stant a patience all customes and lawes, which were ancient­ly deliuered vnto them from their ancestors, that they account it a heynous matter now to alter, or abrogate any law, which was heretofore established, eyther by reason of the rarity of delinquents, or innocence of the Lawmakers. For from what reason, but the vnwary goodnesse of their an­cestors, comes this law to stand in force, that a husband is commanded to father a child [Page 117] and receiue him for his heire, though hee were borne a yeare or more after the time, that he accompanyed with his wife; soe it be proued, that hee liued that time within the shores of Brittaine.

But in Philosophy, and the Mathematicks, in Geography, and Astronomy, there is noe opinion soe prodigious and strange, but in that Island was eyther inuented, or has found many followers, and subtile maintainers, but such as through taedious disputations cannot plainely state the question, which they would seeme to vphold: That the Earth is moo­ued round, and not the Heauens: that the Sunne, with the Planets, and all the other Starrs are not mooued in their globes caelesti­all; [Page 118] [...]hat there are no such globes at all; and lastly, whatsoeuer any doa [...]ing Philosopher hath here­tofore broached, some of them do either [...]old, or would seeme to do: as if then they were more deeply vile their common men, when they neglect and slight the ordinary wisdome as poore and low, and search deeper into the secrets of Nature, which few are able to apprehend.

But as nothing doth more deepely worke vpon the minds of men, then points of religion; soe in noe disparations are they more vehement then in those. In the worship of God, what religion soeuer they choose to themselues, they run euer into ex [...]remes. In the former ages, their richest men leauing the would, betooke themselues by [Page 119] oath into solitary places, and Hermitages; soe that the best part of the Lands of the King­dome were bestowed vpon such deuotion, with too timo­rous and dangerous vow, both to the giuers and receiuers of those Lands; for the giuers too much exhausted the common­wealth, and the receiuers suffe­ring themselues (as it were by the fault of fortune) to fall into luxury, did afterwards draw a great enuy, not onely vpon themselues, but the religion which they professed. This kinde of deuotion is now pub­likely banished out of all Eng­land; and many of them are soe much turned to the contrary side, that he farther they tread from the steps of their forefa­thers, soemuch the neerer they [Page 120] thinke themselues to Hea­uen.

Nor is that the publike opi­nion of the State, nor any way safe for them, if the Magi­strates finde it; but of priuate spirits deluded by superstition, inuenting to themselues a new religion of their owne, and therefore the more pleasing. Therefore all those, which are once possessed with this plea­sing pride of vnderstanding more then others in religion, are diuided into diuers sects and names; and haue diuerse Lawes and rites established a­mong them, neither by the au­thority of the men, nor the number of them, but onely by wilfull obstinacy; and th [...] which is most worthy of pity and laughter is this; that with [Page 121] cruell censures these sects doe persecute one another: holding that they onely are the children of God, and all other repro­bates. It hapened one time, that a plaine fellow one of the com­mon people (whither you e­steeme the common people by the meanesse of their estates, or of their wit and education) and two of his sonnes were of one faith in a superstition of their owne. These three men (as often times those religions consist of noe greater number) did make a sest and Church by themselues. At last, disputing too hotly in diuinity among themselues, they fell at discord; the father forsooke his sonnes, not because hee had found out b [...]tter, but different opinions: and was therefore by his sonn [...] (for soe those fooles called it) [Page 122] excluded out of their commu­nion of Saints: in the meane time, they thought, there were noe other Saints in the world but themselues. But presently after, the two brothers falling at variance, one of them ex­communicated the other; [...] that soe little a Church consi­sting onely of three person [...] was at last diuided into three Churches. A most prodigious mischiefe, and prone to all madnesse: nor will they slightly maintaine the madnesse of the [...] owne dreames. Many new [...] are euery day cited before [...] Iudgement seates, in whom [...] Iudges can finde nothing agree­ing with each other, but on [...] a wilfull obstinacy. They [...] abominable opinions vnw [...] ­thy of men, and are authors [...] [Page 123] their owne superstition, misled by noe predecessour, they feare noe tortures; but refusing to be gouerned by any wisedome or wholesome aduise, they will endure the fire, and sacrifice themselues to their owne mad­nesse. But strangers that conuerse with that Nation, must take heede, that they doe not cen­sure the country in generall, by the behauiour of a few, and those perchance of the com­mo [...] people; nor is it casie to lear [...]e, what behauiour is fitting among natures soe much diffe­ring. The common people hea­ted eyther with wine, or chol­ler, are oftentimes forward to abuse strangers: in such a swel­ling fury of theirs, [...]t were a little more then, madnesse to prouoke them by the like sur­linesse; [Page 124] nor is it then a fit sea­son, when a tumult is raised, to pleade thy excuse with confi­dence, m [...]ch lesse to expresse courage in defending thy selfe. By a gentle speech thou mayest better disarme their fiercenesse they must be base and low en­treaties, which must asswage the fury of their first assault. For this torrent if it bee op­posed by noe resistance, will languish in a moment, and be­come quiet. This warinesse, and timorous wisedome is onely to be vsed in Townes, or publike fields, where a concourse of people to side with them, th [...] did first abuse thee, is eyther [...] gathered already, or presently to be expected. But in priu [...] places, and where thy [...] would not prooue too [...] [Page 125] vnequall, then bee sure to ex­presse (at least in shew) a bo [...]d spirit not brooking iniuries; by which meanes, thou wilt ter­rifie them, which doe not in­sult, out of true valour, but are as ready to receiue, as to offer wrong. The Magistrates and Iudges, are fauourable to the complaints of strangers, and for­ward to punish the people, which doe them wrong; vn­lesse it bee a multitude that doe offend, whom it is easie to blame, but hard, and for the most part too much cruelty to punish. And soe wondrously hospitable are the sea [...]es of Iustice in that Nation, that if a stranger offend, hee shall finde them fauourable: or if it happen, that a stranger, and an English­men [Page 126] be both guilty of one fact, which deserueth, eyther the whip, or the gallowes, the stranger many times is no fur­ther punished, but onely com­manded to depart the King­dome. The gentlemen are naturally enclined to a kinde entertainment of all strangers, and are worthily ambitious in such curtesies. Soe that no man, vnlesse of a froward and ba [...] ­barous disposition, and altoge­ther vnworthy of Noble com­pany, can repent himselfe of trauelling into Engla [...]d.

Among those Noblemen▪ whose carriage is graue, and their speech and gesture fit [...]ed to their dignity, you m [...]st com­ply with an answerable gra­uity, and aemulation as it were, of m [...]iesty; least they per­chance [Page 127] should vnder [...]alue you, from their owne grauity, and your speech, which must not bee to them in a soothing man­ner, like the Italian and French humility; you will otherwise carry a lower estimation a­mong those men, who accust­ome not themselues vnto af­fected humanity, and lying complement.

To the Northern parts of England, Scotland adioyneth, gouerned by a scepter of incre­dible antiquity, compared with other Kingdomes: for the crowne of Scotland aboue twenty ages hath endured in the possession of one Family. An hundred and twenty Kings haue successiuely reigned from Ferg [...] the First, to Iames that now [...]; who to soe anci­ancient [Page 128] a pedigree, adding the Royalty of England, is the first, that combined the Kingdomes, and reigneth entirely ouer all Brittaine.

The Scots are of dispositions fitted for society; of behauiour, and gestures of the body, ex­celling other Nations, and like vnto the French in all things, but the riches of their country. For the country Northward [...], in many places not fit for [...] and full of barren mountaines; neyther are those mountaines clothed with woods, vnlesse some, which are raysed into a sharper climate, and giue a woody and barbarous name to the inhabitants. Yet Nature hath bestowed vpon it those har­dy people, abundance of v [...]tu­all in fowle, and [...] [Page 129] besides their flocks, and heards of cattell. It is sight vsuall, to see three hundred red Deere, or more in one heard. But the inhabitants can rowze farre greater heards, when the Noblemen are pleased to hunt there. Neither doe they want comodities in their country fit to exchange for forreyne mer­chandises, which are transported thither of necessary vse. But the scarcity of money by no art or in­dustry can be redr [...]ssed, foe that they which in their owne coun­try doe liue in plenty, and with great attendance, are not able in [...]orreine parts to maintaine their port. But noe people are more mindefull of their pedigrees then they; that they had rather sometimes disgrace their Family by their pouerty, then conceale [Page 130] the vnseasonable expressing of their titles, or not mention their kindred. For it is neces­sary in a country more popu­lous, then fruitfull, that some of Noble blood should bee borne to extreme pouerty. Soe that the Scots dispersed into many countries to get their liuing, (and none are more faithfull and industrious then they) be­ing still eager in publishing their Nobility, are often laugh­ed at by the hearers, then be­leeued, or pitted.

But the people couragious also against themselues, are di­uided by many and fierce en­mities, and cruell to each o­ther, beyond an lawes of huma­nity or hatred. For being diui­ded by Families, and Names, they hold those as Princes of [Page 131] their factions, which possesse the most ancient inheritance of the Family. To those men they are wonderously obseruant, with a loue as great [...]most, as to their country it selfe; to them, when they are wronged, they [...] for succour, vsing the patronage and strength of their owne Family. By this meanes it has heppened, that small quar­rells betwixt men of obscu [...]e condition, haue beene the cau­ses of great and horrible com­motions. For they that haue quarrelled, complayning on both sides to the Princes of their Kindred, haue turned their [...] wrongs into the in [...]es of whole families. Nor are these differences decided with little blood; for some­times gathered into troopes, [Page 132] and almost into iust armu [...], they fight it out; and these [...] continue to their heires after them. They thinke i [...] glorious to reu [...]ge [...]urder with thun­der, and firewith fire. Nor doe they alwayes deale by [...] force, but by s [...]res and trea­cheries. Nothing can bee [...] or ignoble to them, [...] cure their eyes onely by the miseries of their enemies. And this mischiefe has often beene the ouerthrow of Noblemen, who haue eyther beene slaine in fight, or else vndone in their estates, by keeping such multi­tudes of seruants and tenants about them (for soe it was ne­cessary for feare of suddaine assaules from their enemies) whilest their Lands [...] lyen­ [...]ntilled, and wast. And some [Page 133] heue thought [...] of wood in the country, has beene caused by these enmities; whilest these cruell people on both sides haue burnt vp their enemies woods, and [...] their priuate iniuries with the deuastation of their country. But these things [...] were more, to [...] when they were [...] where ri [...]; now, since wee see it o­ther wise, wee may cherish hereafter better hopes For al­though heretofore, it lay not in the power of the Kings, to rem­edy soe great a mischiefe, when the Nobles by the faithfulnesse & number of their clients were more fierce and strong; yet the now reigning King, Iames of Brittaine, has at last bestowed this benefit vpon this country. [Page 134] [...] haue encouraged others to the same audacity; especially, least they should seeme to haue borne a fearefull, and degene­rate anger. Hee therefore thought it best at once, and for euer, to compound these dead­ly [...].

[Page 135] The King therefore tooke a diligent account of those, whose Familyes were engaged in such quarrells, and partly in his owne person, partly by the me [...] any more named among them: a great and admirable worke of a most wise and industrious King, yet not performed with­out much time and wonderfull felicity.

Two yeares after hee had thus appealed Scotland, hee was called to the succession of the crowne of England; a great happynesse for the strengthe­ning of this amity among the Scots, who now with a fitting, [Page 136] [...] inconsiderate bounty, and loue the fame, more then the pos­session of riches; or else decei­ued by the quality of their owne country, when they haue attained to such a summe of mo­ney as would make them rich for euer in Scotland, they grow [Page 137] too secure of future pouerty, and doe not vnderstand, [...] in euery Land; the expences, and prices of things, are answe­rable to the plenty of gold and siluer; soe that a great quantity of money can hardly bee [...] in any place, but such as is vsed to great expences. What stu­dies soeuer they encline to, they prosper in them with won­derfull successe. None are m [...]re [...] of [...] duties, [...] none more vallant in fight, then they nor [...] the Muses euer appeare more beautifull, then when they inspire the bre [...]sts of Scots. They are capa­ble also of city-businesse, and can fit their industry to any kinde eyther of life or fortune.

But those that trauell, or [...] [Page 138] and rely vpon no other meanes, then going to the houses of their countrymen, which are growne rich in other Lands and demand as it were the tri­bute of their country are most intollerable in their proud beg­ger [...].

Ireland, by the ancient La­tines called Ierna, and now Hy­bernia, is an, Island not far from Brittaine, and subiect to the crowne of England; a great and [...] Island, commodi­ous for shipping, by reason of many hauens; nor is it to bee, censured by the barbarisme and sordid, liuing of many of the habitants; for the fruitfullinsse of it inuiteth many [...] of England, and Scotland to [...] [Page 139] mortall to any venomous crea­tures. Newets and Toades, if they bee brought thither, will not liue. The wood transported from thence noe age nor neg­lect will make worme-eaten, no [...]hung with spiders [...] although the Irish haue their spiders, but harmelesse and free from venome The beames raf­ters, and boordings of Westminster hall, where the Courts of Iustice sit, are made of that wood; and there (a wonderfull thing [...]) the walls round about are filled with spiders, but none of those sordid nets are spread vpon [...] wood.

The Irish, which liue not in Townes, or ciuill places, are wonderfull hardy in enduring any ayre, or diet, by reason of long and accustomed pouerty. [Page 140] They can satisfie their hunger with any victuals gotten on the sudaine; as venison, or beefe halfe-raw. They temper their meate with milke. They build brittle and weake houses about the height of a man, where themselues and their cattell liue together. But this in those people is a thing to be wondred at the four of [...] and ease, doth soften the cou­rages of other Nations, but maketh the Ir [...] valfant in warre. For by reason of their sloth, though their fields are fertile, yet tilling and sowing are things almost vnknowne to them. They are content with that grafte, which the ground yeeldeth of her owne accord for pasture, for their cattell. They exercise noe [...] [Page 141] dycrafts, for feare of dispara­ging that Nobility, which they soe highly boast of. Soe in a sordid, and filthy idlenesse, they lead their liues, and had rather cure by patience, then industry, the discommodities which are daily companions of their barbarous liuing; and soe farre are they from know­ing delight, as they feele not want and misery. In one single garment they endure both wet and cold; by often hun­ting, they grow wonderfull swift in running, equalling al­most the wildbeasts; when they are weary, or benighted, the ground serues them for a lod­ging, and couered with snow, or wet with showres, yet they are sooner raised by satiety of sleeping, [...] by the [...] of [Page 142] the weather, excellent rudi­meats of warre and valour, if they did not proceede from such filthy sloth. This beastly­nesse, in time of peace also, n [...]yther the fellowship of the English, nor the [...]mulation of the Spanish fashions, can make them to shake off; but they loue this life soe full of sordid discommodities, as free from cares, assured by a wicked shadow of liberty, which in different kindes has fouly deceiued diuerse [...].

They are obstinate in their [...] viees, haters of labour, and foe of all profit; but very industrious, in theeuing, and, [...], or any [...], which is like to hunting. And these are the slothfull miseries [Page 143] of the common people. The Noblemen are many of them very faithfull, of braue mindes, nu [...]tured in [...] vertues that befit their dignities.

Those alsoe that liue in Cit­ties or the pleasantest parts of the Kingdome, are adorned with great humanity; and de­clare by this, that those wilde Irish are barbarous by their owne willfullnesse, and not borne to that vice, by the fare of the Island.

THe Riuer Rhene arising from the foote of the Alpe [...], and flowing along the borders of the Low-countries doth there fall into the Ocean, It was once the bound of Ger­many; but now by the chan­ges of [...] and Empires, the limits of Germany being en­creased, it may bee sayd to run through it.

Germany is a spacious coun­try, reaching from the Alpe [...] and France, as farre as Sarma [...] and Pannonia, diuided into many principalities and com­ [...]ealths. It was once full of [...]oods and wild inhabitants, [Page 145] but now beautified euery where with faire Townes; the woods which were once great, and orespread the country, are now reduced to vse and Orna­ment. It nourisheth vines in that part, where it bordereth vpon Italy, and where it decli­neth towards Pannonia, as likewise vpon those hils which ouershadow the Rhene; and some few places besides, where the ground by fauour of some hils, and warmth of the riuers, is fitted for that purpose. The cold grounds in their moun­taines [...] with firre trees, and other woods. Ister, the Prince of riuers in Europe, doth cut almost through the midst of Germany, and rises in a sea-like channell, to the yearely ruine of bridges there, [Page 146] whose bankes are beautiful with famous cities, but to [...] few for the greatnesse of fo [...] noble a riuer. Rhene, Alb [...], and many riuers famous in old times, doe flow through all the breadth of Germany. The coun­try is full of good [...]nes on the side where the Alpes bound it, and all along the course of Ister; in those places [...] where Rhene runnes, and M [...] ­nis with the Maz [...], encre [...] of soe great a riuer: but the side of the country which ly [...] toward the Ocean and the [...] ­ner Land, remooued from the famous and publike rodes, fo [...] nasty Innes, and sordid [...] of liuing in generall, [...] much of that Ge [...]us which Ancient Writers haue ascribed to it. Yet there are cities not [Page 147] vnworthy of some: the mar­ket-places and streets especially craftly handsome; the houses of lofty and euen structure, the frailer parts of the building co­uered with printings.

The inner parts of their hou­ses are not with like skill fitted for vse; their beds are placed in the remote, and (for the most part) obscure places of the house. They doe not vse lightly any chimneyes at all. They had rather vse certaine little stones to expell the cold, which are made in the chamber-walls, and fire put into them according as the quality of the weather requireth. But this heat is ma­ny times troublesome to stran­gers; for it maketh their head; heauy with vnusuall vapours, and when they goe one from [Page 148] thence, their bodies being chil­ly, and the pores opened, are not able to endure the ayre. Besides, when the fire begins to be remitted, these kinde of hot-houses haue ill sauours; especially those, which belong to their dining roomes, where the confused vapours of soe many sorts of meate doe fill the ayre, and soe much wine is drunke, and spilled. And not onely in those hot-houses, but in other chambers and par­lours also, are many of the Ger­manes too slouenly, and care­lesse; insomuch that strangers, when they come thither, can hardly brooke the ayre of those roomes. That Nation is infect­ed with a wonderfull loue of drinking, which now is a con­fessed vice, and therefore the more freely vsed. Nor is this [Page 149] barbarous drunkennesse vsed as a pleasure onely, but growne into a part of their behauiour and discipline; the fauours of some of their Princes are pur­chased onely by this base price, when the Princes doe seeke some cōpanions in their vices, or purpose to entertaine Em­bassadours and strangers with the f [...]eest hospitality. For the Germanes thinke, there can bee noe entertainment soe pleasing to a stranger as a long, & drun­ken banquet; and thinke them­selues neuer truely welcome to another mans house, vnlesse he that i [...]ited them bee won­drous forward in making both them & himselfe drunke. That is the chiefest vrbanity there, and in nature of a league vpon the first acquaintance.

[Page 150] It hapened on a time, that some Dutch regiments of soul­diers were entertained in France, and commanded by Colonels of their owne Nat [...] ­on: a Nobleman of France in­uited one of these Germane Colonels of supper, knowing how deare a league of friend­ship might bee made with a Germane in drinke: hee prouo­ked him therefore to mirth, with store of wine, and many formes and deuices of drinking there were. At last, the Ger­mane, eyther to make tryall, how freely welcome he was to the French Lord, or else gree­ued, that the drinking [...] went soe slowly forward, [...] seeking a glorious victory, hee challenges the Frenchman [...] pledge him, and begins [...] [Page 151] a cup of great measure; the Frenchman nothing affrighted (to all our wonder) rises vp: noble guest (quoth hee) that thou mayst know thou wert inuited to a friend, I will not onely pledge what thou hast drunke, but in a louing quarrell, challenge thee to pledge me us much more. With these words, hee pledges the Germane Co­lonell at one draught, and fil­ling the same cup againe for his guests sake, though his belly swelled, be dranke it off to him. The Colonell wonderfully ta­ken with soe great an expres­sion of loue, rises vp (though hee could hardly stand) noble si [...] (quoth hee) doe not thinke this loue is bestowed vpon an vnthankfull man; you know, I haue noe small regiment of [Page 152] souldiers vnder my command. Their entertainment for two whole moneths shall cost you nothing, since I know your treasurie those hard times is much exh [...]sted. After these two moneths, if it please you, and that you be well able, they shall take entertainment a­gaine. At soe great a requitall of one carouse, we were all amazed for the present, but much more, when the Colonell performed his promise. A­mong these people plaine and open behauiour is most plea­sing, and such as first gaue to Da [...]hu [...] the name of freedome. They hate all kinde of hidden subtlety; eyther because, that they themselues loosened by drinke, cannot firmely keepe a secret in; or because their [Page 153] mindes in such bodies know themselues to be dull, and are euer suspitious of the subtle­ties of other men as bent a­gainst them, and aiming to o­uerrea [...]h them. The Magistrates of their commonwealths, cho­sen from among their fellow­citizens, bring to the Tribunall noe mindes adorned with high parts: but cleaue fast to the in­stitutions of their fathers, with an e [...]caclous diligence. The people are very obedient to those that gouerne them, and will often giue credit to their Magistrates, euen in poynts of religion. And you shall hardly see any priuate man what soe­uer, g a n [...]say any rites of reli­gion, which the Prince, or common wealth haue approo­ued of [...] mischmiefes, which [Page 154] haue troubled England and France for a long time, the (I had almost sayd) felicity of this miserable carelessnesse hath quite auoyded.

Yet I must except Austria, which lyeth almost out of the Germane [...]lirnate, & hath not yet lost her ancient Nature, though she haue changed her name (for Austria in old time. was ac­counted a part of Pa [...]a.) And Bohemia also, not in this age alone, diuided in it selfe by most vnhappy conte [...]tio [...]s a­bout religion; but Bohemia, though it hee [...] in the bosome of Germany, is diui­ded from the body of it, in lan­guage, in manners, and different Lawes. Learning in many places of Germany doth flourish; but she men are more desirous to [Page 155] teach, them to learne. They write more, then they tende: and value their reputation, by the number and greatnesse of the volumes which they publish in print.

Their wits, as they are darke and dull, soe are they strong to endure endlesse [...]oyle, soe that others may bee able to vnder­stand better, but they to vnder­stand more. Many of their No­blemen, who contented with their owne wealth and manners haue onely steeue, and doe onely admire their natiue Germany, though in their owne iudge­ments they seeme endued with graue wisedome, yet wa [...]t much of the humanity of our age. Their words are much of the old stampe, and their lear­ning wanteth the dresse and co­lours [Page 156] of later wisedome. They are desirous of trauell, and great counterfeiters, or retai­ners of forreyne behauiour, vn­till they returne home into their owne country. It is not vsuall for strangers, to dwell long, or rise to preferment in that country; and the name of a forreyner is almost accounted a word of disgrace among them. Germany oppressed with these manners, is notwithstanding recompenced againe by other excellent endowments, and manly vertues. Treachery is a thinge vnknowne among them, yea euen in hired souldiers of that Nation. Noe deceitfull cunning, or hatred, burketh vn­der the titles of friendship and the simplicity of that modest people is altogether vnskilfull [Page 157] in great villanies. They are little giuen to lust, and that in great secret; their youths boast not of it, like some other Na­tions, as a pride and sport; for the men of Germany are as farre from that almost, as the accust­omed modesty of women. But wisedome, as if findes not of­ten there subtle and sharpe heads to entertaine it, by whose cunning it may bee drawne neere to deceit: soe it many times findeth true and nature iudgements to rest vp­on, who can easily bee proui­dent in their owne affaires, and contemne the errours of other men. There are among them lofty mindes, in whom the fe­licity of a liuely and raised spi­rit, doth well temper their na­turall grauity; especially if they [Page 158] haue long seasoned that ability of wit with so [...]eyne arts and manners. The Nations, though valiant beware, can very well [...] peace. They are not suddainly mooued to [...], but being once raised, they [...] like men, and are not easily [...]p­peased. The people are excel­lent at working in [...], or iron, and drawing it into curi­ous sculptures.

For the Inuen [...]tion of Prin­ting and Gunpowder, the world is indebted to the Germane wits; a benefit, alto­gether doubtfull, whither [...] to the [...], or behoo [...]e of mankind. Their mindes are full of [...], nor [...]ying, nor car [...]ing at the vertues, deede [...], or [...] of other men, es­pecially, th [...]se th [...] are absent: [Page 159] but extolling them with sin­cere, and many times immode­rate pruises.

But nothing is more mag­nificent in that Nation, then that the Christian Empire, and Eagle is seated there; as if Ger­many had vanquished Rome; and the lost of the Prounces that bowed to the Romane yoake, it now the onely coun­try, where the name, and re­liques of the Romane fortune doe rest themselues. The Sacred Maiesty of soe great a name is eclipsed by noe a mulation of o­ther Princes, and Kings, though farre greater in power, then he, yet willingly giue place to the Imperiall Maiesty. That highest dignity was heretofore sup­ported by a power answera­ble, which by little and little as [Page 160] were in a fatall old age, did lessen and consume away. For by domesticke warrs, and the immoderate power of Princes of the Empire, and besides, the dignity being electiue not hae­reditary, the vigour of the Em­pire falling to ground, hath one­ly retained a venerable name, more by the piety of others, then her own strength. Among other causes of the decay of this power, this you shall finde to bee the greatest; the Princes being of great wealth, and en­creased by the bounty of for­mer Emperours, haue at last changed those Prouinces, which were first deputed vnto them, into absolute Principali­ties, & to haue some priuiledge about the Emperour (who o­weth his estate not to right of [Page 161] inheritance, but their suffra­ges) they haue made their own dignities, inheritances to their posterity. By this meanes the mindes of those Nations and People, which are naturally en­clined to honour their Princes, and heretofore onely in loyalty to the Emperour, came by de­grees to honour those Princes, as his deputies, and afterwards as their owne absolute Lords: which was a nearer way, either to profit, or danger. See the power of those Princes begun and strengthned, did exhaust the strength of the whole Empire: and first of all, as much as remayned in France, then Italy, it selfe, the foun­taine of the Empire; after­wards the strongest parts of Germany, taken, as it [Page 162] were, out of their owne body, did fall away, and were diui­ded by the variety, and num­ber of Princes, into other loy­alties. But in France, and Brit­taine, which are most true Kingdomes, it was ordered farre otherwise, and those Prin­ces, whose power was too great, and worthy of suspition, by the prouidence of God, and industry of the Kings, were sup­p [...]essed, and rooted out. For what roome were left for the Maiesty and State of Kings, if Normandy, Brittaine, Aqui­taine, Burgundy, Auuergne, P [...]cteirs, Prouence, and Cham­paine, were possessed by Dukes, or Earles, as once in the gouern­ment of petty Kings? who safe in their owne strength would obey the King vpon curtesie, [Page 163] and onely not contemne him as inferiour to themselues. But what miseries in the King­dome of Brittaine haue beene caused by the great, and too formidable power of Dukes, and Count Palatines, endued with regall priuiledges, and mighty in faction, and atten­dance? what bloody rebellions haue they oft raised against their Kings? there is noe more certaine safety of the Kingdome at this day, then that the pow­er of those great men and their Families, are vtterly suppressed, and the nerues of the Kingdome guided by one onely.

The Emperours therefore should then haue preuented this renting of the Empire, when first the Princes began to grow too great. But now [Page 164] the disease too farre growne, and all affaires too long setled, so that the Empire especially consisteth of those Princes: to extort the power out of their hands, were not onely an vnsea­sonable, but a vaine enterprise; soe many vpholders of those dignities would ioyne in con­fedency against him for their common security: especially seeing at this day, their Princi­palities doe as lawfully belong to them, as the Empire doth to him; their titles accrewing both from the consent of them that first gaue that power into their hands, and also by time and long possession; whereby all titles of Soueraignty, which for the most part are weake, or wrongfull at the first, are made lawfull.

[Page 165] But the last and mortall disease of the expiring Empire was this, that many, or most of the cities, imitating these Princes, gathered them­selues into Commonwealths, making themselues Lawes, and ordaining Magistrates; and to make it knowne, that they had renounced their first loyalty, in this sliding from the Em­pire, they challenged the name of Free States; entering into leagues among themselues, to maintaine each other against the Soueraignty of the Empe­rour.

Soe that country which in one State, & vnder one Gouernour, had beene able to contest with all Europe, puissant in men, and strong cities, and worthy to receiue the translated dignity [Page 166] of the Romane Empire can now finde noe Prouince, nor scarce any city, that shee can deliuer to her Emperour in free power and Soueraignty. For the Commonwealths and Principalities will suffer noe Imperiall garrisons within them nor can that Prince, that beares soe great and glorious a title, finde any place among soe ma­ny cities, where hee may h [...]e his subiects leaue to dwell. By this sweet, and p [...]blike errour, they haue diser [...]ed the Maie­sty of their owne country,

The seauen Electors, by the custome of the country, are to choose no man C [...]s [...], but a great man possessed of a King­dome, or other great wealth, and Territoryes of his owne already. Vertue and Nobility [Page 167] alone can neuer carry those voi­ces. For where should the seate of the Emperour bee, vnlesse be had one already without the Empire? where should that Court bee kept, which were answerable to the title of soe great Maiesty? they would hardly suffer him to dwell any where among them, whom they loue to honour in his ab­sence. But if the fate of that valiant Nation would permit, that the whole Prouince might be absolutely subiect to their E­lected Cas [...], then they might easily finde among themsel [...] some, that were fit for that great and puissant honour, and bee forced to seeke after no­thing in their Elections, but vertue onely.

The Emperour then hath [Page 168] some power (but limited and straightned) ouer all the coun­try. In ciuill contentions they doe often appeale to him. But capitall crimes the Princes and Free States doe iudge in there owne territories. The Empe­rour has power to call diots, to proclaime warrs, and deter­mine controuersies betweene the Princes themselues. When warrs doe threaten Germany, hee commands men and mo­ney from the Prouinces, if that may bee termed by command, which cannot bee obtained without their free consent.

The Free Princes in that spacious country are very ma­ny, but the re [...]enewes diuided among the brothers, or male kindred of a Family, doe by that meanes grow many times [Page 169] [...]e differences in diuiding Pro­uinces or Principalities, and in parting priuate estates, and pa­trimonies. In that manner, the Dukedome of Saxony was in this age diuided among many brothers, and because it was a hard matter, those that were skilfull in the lawes and cu­stomes of the country were by their command assembled together. To whom, as they sate in counsell, and the bro­thers were contending about their right, a fellow of some­what a distracted minde, but such a one, as vsed to delight the hearers with his harme­lesse and pleasant madnesse, came in among them.

The eldest brother of the Saxon Duke looking vpon this fellow, (for hee had vsed [Page 170] his Court, and waited at his table) w [...]t thou also (quoth he) giue thy opinion concer­ning this diuision of the State? why should I not answered the fellow? vpon which, they were all in expectation to heare some ridiculous and pleasant iest from the mad-man, and en­treated him earnestly, that his counsell might not bee wan­ting in soe great a matter. But he denyed to beare any part in the consultation, vnlesse they would giue him such a gowne as the Lawyers vsed to weare, saying that with that gowne hee should put on wisedome. with that a merrier Genius pos­sessed them all, insomuch that his Lord laughing heartily, commanded a furrd gowne to hee brought out of his ward­rope, [Page 171] and put vpon him. Which when the fellow had fitted well, hee walked twice or th [...]ice about the roome, and began to aske his Lord, whi­ther that garment became him well or not; excellent well, answered the Duke; but now it remaines, that thy wise­dome should determine the controuersies that are be­tweene vs. Hee told them, hee would presently bee ready for them, but first he must retire a little into the next chamber; and there hee would call some spirits of better wisedome to counsell with him. When hee was retired thither, hee shut the doore presently, that noe man might enter to interrupt his witty knauery; and put­ting off the gowne, with a lit­tle [Page 172] sword, which was girded about him, hee cut it from the shoulders to the lowest hemm, into long and slender slashes. Then putting it on all ragged as it was, he opened the doore, and comming out to his Lord asked him againe, how well that gowne did now become him: anger had curbed his Lords laughter, for the gowne which was soe spoyled, was of great price. Thou wretch (quoth the Duke) I will haue thee whipt, for presuming soe madly to spoyle thy Lords gowne. The fellow not at all af­frighted, answered them thus how ridiculous is it in you t [...] be soe extremely angry wit [...] me, when your selues are farr more dangerously mad, th [...] [Page 173] gowne, which I haue put on, is the representation of your fortunes, and much more foo­lishly doe you goe about to rent, and spoile the Dukedome or Saxony, then I haue done this garment. Whilst it was whole, it become met well, and you laugh at it, now it is thus mangled.

Soe Saxony vnited in one body doth flourish, and is pu­issant in armes and wealth; but when you haue rent it into ma­ny peeces, noe man can vphold the ancient dignity.

The wealth of the Germane Princes, besides some taxes and tributes, are, for the most part, arising out of flockes and heards of cattell; as alsoe out of the fertilty of the soyle, [Page 174] which commonly they exercise with the voluntary, not hired labour of the Boores. By this meanes they cannot certainely define their wealth, and annuall reuenew, which is to be valued according to the changeable price of come. The Nobility haue a great and superstitious ca [...]e of their pedigree; and thinke that ancient blood is stained, if it be marryed into a [...] lower or vpstart Family; nor is such a slaine washed away in many generations. For to a cleare testimony of Noble birth, are required eight de­scents of ancestors in both lines, which haue not at all beene tainted with this vne­quall marriage. In their dis­courses they haue certaine titles and formes of speech fit­ted [Page 175] to all conditions of man; which they account it almost a sin, eyther to neglect, or came lesly confound; nor doth any Nation vse more set formes, ouerburdening euen the memory of those who from their child-hoods haue beene trained in that Art, and su­perstitious distinction.

In that part of Belgia, which is accounted in Germany, are those Prouinces, which here­tofore by war, marriages and successions were incorporated together vnder the house of Burgundy; and afterwards transferred by marriage to the Spaniard; and the chiefe strength of that Nation, if they could as well obey the harsh command [...] of their Prince being absent, as they can ho­nour [Page 176] him present in person with them. Some of these peo­ple in this age complaining of hard vsage, breaking the bonds of cōcord, by which they were tied both to their Prince, and among themselues, haue risen in soe great a storme, as may well deserue to put all Europe into a feare. In this commoti­on part of them by armes haue acquired their liberty; the rest either mastered by power, or detained by loyall reuerence of their ancient Lords, conti­nue still in obedience to their Prince. Those that despising the Soueraignty of the Spani­ard, haue made themselues a free-State, inhabite chiefly about the Ocean, and are called by forreyne Nations Hollan­ders, which was the chiefe [Page 177] Nation among them. By a bold­nesse necessary after their re­uolt, they haue giuen them­selues to sea-affaires; from whence they are growne to great strength and wealth, sear­ching all shores, and infesting the Spanish Sea. By this meanes, their cities are encreased, and their wealth, by daily boo­ties. Auxiliary souldiers from France and England, haue come vnto them, by reason of that mutuall benefit, which accrewes, both to the aided, and the aiders.

The other which remaine vnder the Spanish scepter, ta­king also their name from one of then Pro [...]inces, are called through the world Flemmings.

[Page 178] But the people, though thus distinguished into two Go­uernements, retaine the same Genius and dispositions. Their wits are candid, but made grosser as it were by the fault of the climate, which yet they doe more depresse by the di­stemper of drinking; whither this thirst bee kindled in them by the fortune of their situa­tion, and neighbour-hood of High- Germany; or by the man­ner of educating their, infants. For they giue to their infants to ab [...]te their desire of milke, whilst yet they hang at their mothers breasts, bottles full of beere, made after the fashion of a dugge.

That innocent and vncuri­ous age oftentimes listing to the mouth the beere which [Page 179] comes soe slowly, is delighted with the likenesse of sucking, and keept from the wearisom­nesse of idlenesse. Nor is the thing without some profit, if from their first growth onely you esteeme it.

For infants soe ordered are brought to haue strong bodies, and full of cheerefull and whol­some iuyce. But the perpetu­all custome of drinking, grows by soe vsing it into a perpetuall pleasure, stirring vp the desire of the palate, which is euer af­terwards, eyther ouerflowed, or thirstie. To this may bee added, the qualitie of that drinke, not quenching the thirst after the manner of wine and water, but in a thicke li­quor, leauing first that vpon the iawes, which by the next [Page 180] draught would bee washed a­way.

But by this strange de­light in drinking their wits (which you would wonder at) are not drowned, and made slothfull, but industrious in all the artes of merchandise, be­yond the diligence of other Nations.

Their strong and ac­customed bodies are able to buckle with that vice, and with a wondrous felicity dissipate againe those clouds of drinke, which in banqueting arise in them: soe that their drunken­nesse late at night makes them not slothfull in their businesse the next morning.

None excell their industry in low arts. Idlenesse with [Page 181] more then Athenian seue­rity is punished among them; their boyes (if neede bee, at the publike charge) are trained vp in action, and their maides to the spindle; euery age is exercised, and sweat in a fitting calling; and labour familiar to them from their child-hood, banishes, euen by custome alone, the loue of vnknowne sloth. By this frugall discipline their cities are wonderfully en­riched with trading, and few of them sleepe in the lethargy of beggery. The wits of the people are ney­ther capable, nor patient of fraud.

They doe easily value others with that trust which they [Page 182] are worthy of; but the [...] sim­plicity, once deceiued, with an irreconcileable hatred a [...]vides the perfidiousnesse of those that cozen them.

Among these people there haue beene in all ages some ex­cellent mindes that haue kept vp the dignitie of learning [...] or else admitted to the Priuy Councells of Princes & States, haue with worthy dexterity managed the affaires commit­ted to them. As in those regi­ons, where commonly, and as it were, by the priuiledge of their birth, sharpe and elegant wits arise, few are eyther care­full, or able, to exceede the te­nor of their owne mediocrity; so Nations, of a lower fate as it were, and more furnished with the ancient goodnesse, [Page 183] then the vaine ornaments of subtelty, are sometimes excel­lent in wit, and grow nearer to heauen, then they were borne to the earth.

The chiefe men of Holland haue commonly framed theire mindes and manners according to the Genius of that Common wealth, which themselues haue made; eyther by a facility of Nature borne, to that forme of Gouernment which now they haue, or else by a subtle and popular garbe, ready also to vndergoe all offices of mu­tuall seruitude, vnlesse when they are commanded to beare [...]ule.

But those Noblemen, which are vnder the Spaniard, are more filled with Court ambi­tion, and with their Belgic [...] [Page 182] [...] [Page 183] [...] [Page 184] positions han [...]mixed the man­ners of that people that reigne ouer them. Whence it come to passe, that they haue, as it were, a double Nature, and a disposi­tion various, and almost diui­ded betweene two most dif­ferent inclinations. But among all their desires, the desire of honours is the greatest. They do ambitiously seeke, and care­fully maintaine those titles and names which the craft of flatterers has inuented to di­stinguish dignities. Nor can you any way winne their af­fections more, then by saluting them cunningly with honour. They are curteous to those that f [...]atter them, and pro­digall in giuing respect where they expect greater. Soe with true and sincere loue they re­compence [Page 185] a subtle flattery, vnlesse that they being moo­ued to loue for vaine reasons, are often changed by the same rashnesse; and perchance by a vaine suspition of contempt, are lost as farre as to extreme hatred. The common-people in those Prouinces on both sides doe more esteeme a shew of liberty, and vaine tokens of pa­rity, then liberty it selfe. From hence proceeded those arts, which soe easily catch them: as; not to disdaine their clownish iests, to entertaine discourse with them by the way, and to mixe thy selfe with them (though much their superi­our) in a kinde of humility, which shall neyther bee dispa­raging, nor long-lasting.

[Page 186] William Prince of Orange, a most politike man, by this art, more then by any warre­like force afflicted the Spani­ard.

The Boores of Holland in­habited many Townes by the Ocean-side; the greatest strength (noe doubt) of Belgia reuolting from the Spaniard: and able to weary the wealth of both the Iudies: for the Townes guarded both by Na­ture and situation, might by no very chargeable fortificati­ons bee brought to an impreg­nable strength.

Therefore at the beginning of their reuolt, William by a new way of popularity had wonne all the affections of the people, who thought in how much more happy a condition [Page 187] they should liue vnder such a Captaine, as owed his po­wer and authority to them, then vnder the King him­selfe.

For comming slouenly from sea or the plow, they had free accesse to him, whose Maiesty, and attendance was not great or troublesome. Hee himselfe in a deepe subtlety, was glad to haue himselfe saluted by those, that met him or came to him, by noe high or enuied names, but sometimes plaine William And very well know­ing by what waies especially the affections of his Nation were to bee gained, hee did not proudly looke vpon the lowest condition of any that saluted him.

[Page 188] Remarkable was that saying of his, to content those that reprooued his too­much humanity; That man is well bought, who costs but a saluation.

ITaly, which was once con­fined by the small channell of the riuer Rubicon, is now bounded, (more suitable farre to the intention of Nature,) by the enclosure of those lofty Alpes. A Land owing much to her owne commodities, but more endebted to the fauour of fame. Renowned hereto­fore by the Gracian Colonies in her Easterne part; after­ward by the spirit of her in­habitants, and the greatnesse of her spreading Empire, whose state no age could euer paralell.

And lastly, since the nerues of [Page 190] the Romane greatnesse are quite cut, she remaines euen at this day, an example of life and breeding to many Nations; our people supposing that to be the onely p [...]ace for the poli­shing of youth, and the nursery of all humanity.

The very Names of her cities and other places, soe ce­lebrated in true and fabulous stories, driuing the ignorant euen into amazement, such as giue more true credit to others then to their owne know­ledge.

By this strange fauour of men are the faults of Italy concealed, and her good things set off with greater lustre. Nor is their any doubt, but that at some places it exceeds the fe­licity of other regions, there [Page 191] where the r [...]uer Benacus with his Mascalinest came sporteth along the side of the moun­taines, and where Auer [...]ns, Pu­teoli, and Cuma wanton it. As rich and beautifull (being a country almost leuell, and well watered) is that which the Lombards tooke from pos­session of the French.

But if we compare the for­tune of all Italy with her neighbours, as Germany, France and that more Northern Brit­taine; then perchance we may iustly bee ashamed that Italy, by our preuarication, feeding soe much the glory of it, should eclipse the felicity of our owne country.

The Land is rugged in ge­nerall by the frequency of mountaines, or par [...]ed with [Page 192] too great and barren heat. The soile is dry in many places, and where it is arable, their come, before it be ripe, is corrupted by frequent smuts, or destroy­ed by violent haile.

Of pasture-grounds there is noe greatstore, and in those the wooll of their sheepe is naught, and their flesh worse. And scarce at any time has the fruitfullnesse of Italy beene able to fustice plenteously her owne inhabitants for three yeares together; nor much­lesse would it suffice them, did not the frugality of the men, and the condition of the clime, requiring noe plentifull diet, accustome them to sparing and sober feasts. Trees of diuers sorts, which vnder the mode­ratenesse of our clime doe [Page 193] th [...]iue happily, are there enf [...]e­bled by too much heate, brin­ging forth weake, and vnpro­fitable fruit. Oranges, Pomegra­nates, and Figges of diuers ra­ces doe there abound to tem­per with their coolenesse the excesse of heate in the country: which fruits, though not at all necessary for humane vse, yet carried about the world, are growne precious more by ou [...] delicacy then their owne value.

For Oliues (though there they are counted one of the three great blessings of mankind, with Corne and Wine,) they haue reason to prize out of the condition of that country, in which by the fault of pas­ture, their dry cattel doe af­ford the milkers but little [Page 194] and [...] [...]ders. Their flesh meates [...]egenerate from the sweetn [...]sse of ours almost into another kinde of taste, ex­cept only some few, which doe better indute the violence of the sunne. So that now those palates of parasites so fre­quently filling the Greeke, and Roman Comedies with com­mendation of fishes, may seeme to haue beene especially suted to that country.

Their Cities are for the most part faire, and situated in pleasant places.

Their houses built of no slight matter, especially those which they call Palaces, are commonly more beautifull for the greatnesse of their struct­ure, then conuenient for the vse of the dwellers in them. [Page 195] They glitter with marble of diuers kinds, and sometimes with gold; their roofes exten­ded with magnificent worke. Old eaten statues are placed vpon faire & precious suppor­ters, which for their gorgeous places are sometimes indebted onely to the lying report of those that fell them. But where their walls doe afford space for windowes, there their houses doe lose somewhat from the lustre of the other building. For commonly eyther coorse lin­nen, or oyled paper doe couer those places which are ordai­ned for letting in of light. Which thing as it is vnsightly to the beholders, so it impri­sons the eyes of the dwellers within; the bounds of their Parlour or gallery doores, farre [Page 196] from the comelinesse of the French or Brittish manner, where their windowes are made of glasse, affording them a free prospect of that which is without, the beames of light dancing as it were cheerfully vp­on them. Their temples also (for that is part of their fame) doe not fully answere the ex­pectation of strangers. In ima­ges and f [...]gures is the greatest lustre, and nothing more beau­tifull then their altars. Purple & silke are accounted but meane ornamēts in respect of the gold, and gems of price, The pane­ments of different marbles are a­dorned with various workman­ship, where in suteable colours the figures of flowrs, of birds, & beasts, are represented. Their pil­lars of marble are so wonderfull [Page 197] large, as may almost bring that [...]one into alow esteeme. But so­rich a beauty in their building, is not brought to the height of comlinesse, their roofs being not enough raised, and the free sunne scarcely is admitted into those dark places. Their windows are shadowed with much iron, and thicke pictures wrought vpon them if any temple do chance to receiue light eyther by the rarity of buildings neere, or conuenient situation of the doores, then ey­ther with spreading vailes, or interposed walls they banish that benefit which the sunne would g [...]ue, beleeuing, it should seeme, that deuotion is raised by the sadnes of night, and by the pleasure of light vanishes againe. But whatsoeuer strangers doe [...]eem of their publike buildings, [Page 198] they cannot but wonder at and abhorre the sordid meannesse of their priuate lodgings. For at their l [...]nes being entertai­ned with scarcie and slat [...]ish prouisions, their stomakes are diuided betweene two contra­ries [...] and hunger; be­s [...] [...] of then cham­bers, and ledgings annoyed by gnats and st [...]nging slies of ma­ny kinds, they haue grating Hoasts, and high prices let vpon bad e [...]e [...]tainement.

But fortune has found out for that country other blan­dishments to allure the minds of those which trauaile thither. For eyther publike errour, or a sate befriending Italy, inui­teth young trauailers to that place from all parts of Europe; where enioying mutuall con­tent [Page 199] inso great a frequency, that which they owe to their owne society, they impute to the pleasure of that country. For if you loue men of your [...] Nation, there you [...] of forremers, you haue faire choyce among multitudes of so many nations: especially the commerce of mindes so farre oftentimes oblieging strangers, that to be fellow trauailers, is a greater enducement to entire friendship then to bee fellow citizens.

So from all Prouinces they come as it were into one body, and seeme to constitute one common and extemporary home. Besides, those young men that trauaile into Italy, [Page 200] are for the most part wealthy, who there visiting change of Cries, and staying at the chiefe, trying besides all kinds of de­light ml fe and conuersing, let loose their minds, which are now in the midway betweene past child-hood and growing wisedome, to a remisnesse void of curiosity; especially, when being farre remooued from their owne countries, the face of domesticke busines doth not at all trouble them and that ten­der age doth free [...] from any we ghty cares.

[...] they haue there all the delightes of youth, the a [...]e of [...]-man-ship, mu­sicke, spectacles, Comedians bo [...] for that purpose, but scarce fit ler Tragedy. When afterwards they returne into [Page 201] their owne countries, and are employed (as is fit) in serious aff [...]es, what wonder is it if those pleasant times of recrea­tion doe cause a sweere remem­brance, and striking the minde with thought of those delights which are now past, and ne­uer to returne, it make them with loue to remember that place, where heretofore they en [...]oy ed so sweete a felici­tie?

But great [...], and a soile rich so of en to the raine of it selfe, hath quite banished from the Nations of Italy those first manners, which wee reade the ancients had.

Yet are their mindes ca­pable of all affaires. Nor with a rude heare, or natu­rall instinct, but artificially as [Page 202] it were, and with skill they fol­low eyther vertue or vice. They make large promises of humanity, confirmed not onely by a compleat garbe of their persons, but words of most exact ciuility, and when they please, most powerfull in per­swasion. They can also enter­taine long friendship, and where they truely loue, esteeme no dangers in respect of that sa­cred league. But if they once hate (whether by their owne inclination, or some conceined iniury) they are so much the more full of danger, in that hi­ding their disquiet thoughts, they deepely lay vp the memo­ry of their offence or emula­tion. Sometimes being offen­ded, they will descend to courte­sie, that so by the priuiledge of [Page 203] friendship, they may more sub­tilly and safely worke their re­uenge.

This hatred of theirs will outlast an age, and which is the most mischieuous, their minds are neuer so easie woun­ded, as obstinate in bearing the lasting scarre. Their mindes beaten to a sadde and serious wisedome, will scarce endure any iests, and customing them­selues to say or doe nothing rashly or without considerati­on, they weigh all men by their owne natures, and examine with too super [...]ous a subtil­ty the mindes of others by e­uery word and looke, so that their owne p [...]ssions doe perpe­tually punish them with cares and it a ousies. Besides, the very opinion it selfe of too grea [...] a [Page 204] wisedome is most vnwelcome euery where, that euen then when they doe descend into a free and vnsuspicious familiari­ty, they are thought but spies, and censurers of other mens actions. Their impoysonings and damned lusts I will there­fore omit, because they are vi­ces not proper alone to Italy; seeing it were iniustice to im­pute that especially to one Na­tion, which is so rife ouer all the Easterne and Southerne countryes. Seeing besides that those villanies are wrought in secret, and may not onely bee denyed by those that are guil­ty, but deuised by others ill-affected to them. But there is a great and publike opinion of their cruelty, such cruelty as rob­bers in that Country doe vse to [Page 205] passengers, and priuate enemies one against another; nature ha­uing so dispenced the affections of men, that in those Countries where there is generally the greatest shew of humanity, there the [...]age of their the [...]ues is most cruell, and the reuenge of enemies most barbarous. For Italy beeing most forward, and profuse in obsequiousnesse and courtesie, reaches on the contrary the extremity of cruelty in the dispositi­ons of her theeues, and those that are at enmity. The French which embrace friendship, not altogether with so much hu­mility of words and gestures, do renut somewhat also in their entity of the Italian cru­city; nor can they bee so easily induced by impious murders, [Page 206] to violate the lawes of nature; at the least they account death the height of their reuenge, and make it not the goale or marke of pleasure, to which by de­grees of fortune they would bring their enemies. Last of all, the English which want some­what of the pompous shew of the French humanity, doe want much more of their barbarous cruelty. For English theeues are content with the booty on­ly; it is there a strange and vn­vsuall thing for theeues to kill: but with long piked staues they knocke the passengers downe, w ^ch causes in them onely a short amazement, that neyther are they able to defend their goods, nor the theeues enforced to their slaughter, which often causes a bloudy bickering on both sides.

[Page 207] But Italy, though wholy en­ [...]troned by the seas, and the Alpes, and ioyned together by the community of one lan­guage, is notwithstanding di­uided into many kinds of fashi­ons and manners, according to the diuersity of the spirits that inhabit it. For hauing beene often conquered, and that piecemeale, and by diuers kinds of people, her inhabitants are not of one nature. Those stran­ger natures shee mixing with her owne, is, by that meanes, her selfe seasoned with the fates of a forreine Genius. Bsides, the seuerall formes and sorts of gouernment, into which euery part of Italy, after so many changes, hath composed it selfe, doe make much for the for­ming of seuerall dispositions in men.

[Page 208] Rome it selfe by the furious inuasion of many people, was long since throwne downe from her wondrous height of wealth and greatnesse, as if the whole world had sought from her a restitution of their spokes. Nor euer did Change shew so prodigious a testimony of her power ouer the mendes of men, as when by sloth and ba [...]e­nesse shee mined that great Empire, which so much valour and worth had raysed. The City it selfe at this time vn­der the Popes iurisdiction, with a great part of Latium & Vmbria, and some neighbouring people, doth yet retaine mindes fit for so great an Empire, and the Maiesty of her Prince is more preserued through all the world by writing, reuerence, [Page 209] and religious awe, then by the aimes and valour of the old Ro­mans. But all that farthest home of Italy, stert [...]h'd our into the [...] sea, from Picenum, and [...] both sides [...], and [...], is vnder Kings, These [...] of the kingdome is called Naples. No part of Italy is filled with Nobility of more haughty and proud dispositi­ons. They are [...] of Armes and Horsemanship, lo­uers of honour and studious of all magnificence.

In that other [...], which first [...] A­dri [...]ticke, haue the Venetia [...]s built then City, [...] de­priued of the land-townes, in that waste of Italy, which At­tila made, they were fa [...]ne [Page 210] to hide themselues in their fens and marishes. In that City, though the power and gouern­ment of the Commonwealth doe belong to all the Nobility [...] gouernment, as must needes be, among so many patent neigh­bours, and wealthy Citizens of their owne, whose riches and greatnesse might tend to am­bition, if it were not curbed. So their mindes by that disci­pline are corrected, and not one­ly not trained vp in the brauery, and state of Courts, but want also those delights and orna­ments, which all the Nobi­lity of other Countreyes doe vse and enioy, as Armes, [Page 211] horsemanship, and the like; be­sides other elegancies and courtships which the customes of the age doe teach them. [...] also vpon diuers s [...]or [...]s of Italy had settled themselues in the forme of Commonwealths, whom the strength of fortune hath since depriued of the lustre of that gouernment, which they from forraine seas had brought with them, and forced them to come vnder the protection of Kings and Princes.

In those people there are mixt soules, and doubtfully he [...] uering betweene the desires [Page 212] of glorious liberty, of which they yet retaine a shadow, or re­presentation and the necessary, yet heauy yoake of those Prin­ces, vnder whose protection they were forced to put them­selues.

But the Lombards both in their mindes and bodies have mixed, as it were, the Image and Genius of France and Italy; their counte­nances and garbes being com­posed to the fashions of the French brauery, but yet retai­ning the Italian qualities, and filled on both sides with the vertues and vices of both Nati­ons.

The other regions of Italy are vnder the command of their owne princes; they are little States, and therfore to be [Page 213] gouerned with the greater skill, as small barkes in the midd'st of a wide Ocean. And seeing that in such small Pro­uinces the maiesty of a Prince cannot bee richly supported, but by great tribute and ex­actions, long and wholesome cu­stome hath taught those people not onely to bee industrious in getting of wealth, but also not to denie it to the vse of their So­ueraigne Princes.

But there is nothing so hard for humane diligence to at­taine, but the excellency of an Italian wit will aspire to it. From the meanest rankes of their common people many dai­ly by happy industry doe ad­uance themselues, both to great name and plentifull estates. No kinde of cares, or (if neede bee) [Page 214] no condition of humility will they disdaine, if it promise wealth; long paines and long hopes they will vndertake and foster: one of which, the pride of Spaniards, the other the suddaine and hot dispositi­ons of the French will not en­dure. They haue deepe and able mindes for the gouerning of Commonwealths, and fit for any fortune; frugall men, and prouident of the future.

Many among them can write Latin, but not speake it so well. That language also which vul­garly they vse, though it bee nothing else then a mixture of barbarous words with corrup­ted Latin, yet both in speaking, and writing they striue to alter, as farre as they can, from all markes of the originall; and to [Page 215] that end they draw backe the words into their throates, so that the roughnes of the sound, and contraction of words (for scarce do they come wholy to your eares) may seeme to bee nothing a-kin to the old Latin. After that manner hath Spaine also at this day infected her lan­guage, so that drowning the sim­plicity of words, with a confu­sed harshnes, forced as it were from their brests, they lose the sweetenesse of many letters: but the sweetnesse of learning doth not a little flourish in Italy, especially those parts of learning to which the liuely elegance of nature doth inuite them: which is witnessed by that faire plenty of their natiue poetry enuy'd by all their neighbour-nations; which hath made [Page 216] sacred the Poets names, bur­ning in so many fained fires of loue, to the renowning of their supposed sufferings. For it is no matter whether they expresse themselues in their owne lan­guage, or in the old learned tongues, seeing it is the same rapture which leades a pure and rich wit in their owne popular eloquence, as well as in the an­cient. For the Grecians wrote those things which their peo­ple vnderstood, and the Romans fitted the Greeke Comedies, and all the pith of Athenian elo­quence to the eares of their common people.

Last of all, what shall we say of Italian Historians, those whose sincere and faithfull wis­dome shall eternize their wri­tings? or those that offend by [Page 217] too much eloquence and partia­lity? but religion, and heauenly wisdome, as well as humane lear­ning, with whatsoeuer is left in the custody of the Muses, was euer highly indebted to the wits of that Nation. And to conclude, you shall no where finde more true examples of sacred vertues, or abominable vices, then in Italian mindes: so that as one sayd of Athens, There growes in no place more venomous hem­locke; nor any where else are the Bee-hiues filled with extraction of swee­ter flowers. *⁎*

THe [...] [...]ou [...]d of Eu­rope, as you trau [...] to [...] great Oce [...]n, is Spaine, [...] it, [...], from the name of [...]; and lastly by that name, which it now [...]. A spacious Land, [...]posed [...] the [...] and Affricke, an Iland [...] way, vn [...]sse onely there, where the Pyren [...] moun­ta [...]nes are the [...] of it. A land famous heretofore for her fertility, but at this day by her great barrennesse, derogating [Page 219] [...].

[...] blessed [...] in those places [...], as doth almost recompense the barrennesse of the other grounds. You would thinke it strange, that in some fields the husbandman recey­ueth [...] with increase an hundred fold. Their townes are [...] many, and in those that are, they want prouision to enter­tain trauellers in such a manner, as France, Brittaine, or Italy [Page 220] can do. The inhabitants are constant in keeping still the ancient habits, and the very Genius of their forefathers. They are able men, and patient of labour, not such labour as belongs to [...]illing of the ground, or handy-crafts, but such especially, as is suita­ble to wa [...]re-like actions; as for example; Watch-fulnesse, hunger, thirst, and all kinde of sufferance that belongs to military discipline. For their mindes being constant in pur­suing those hopes which they once conceiue, account it an especiall point of vertue, not to bee wearyed with misfor­tunes and dangers.

From hence in old time, was Saguntus so constant to the Roman party, renow­ned [Page 221] for her ouerthrow, and the courage of their mutuall slaughter.

Afterwards, Numantia a small City, in respect of the greatnesse of her fame, a conque­rour first of so many Romans, and lastly of it selfe. Lusitania also, vnder the conduct of Viri­atus, with sodaine forces easily raised, and disbanded againe: And last of all, all Spaine, both in their fayth, and manners, fitted to the discipline of Sertori [...]s, were able to weary both Metellus and Pom­pey.

While the Spaniards were yet barbarous, and diu [...]ded into many and rude gouernements, they were taught the [...]r owne strength by the Carthagi [...]ans & Romans wa [...]ing against each [Page 222] [...].

The [...] their conquerours, that Spaine was [...] altogether quiet, but al­most euery yeere prouoking the [...] Italy.

Augustus Casar himselfe also [...] not that warre a­gainst the Cantabrians to bee an action o [...] light import, and ther­fore comm [...]tted not the mana­ging of it to his Lieutenant, but was th [...]e in person, as ac­counting [Page 223] it a d [...]ger and a­chieuement worthy of his feli­city. No [...] did the Spaniards in so many wars, and so much ef­fusion both of their own and o­thers bloods, think at all of for­re [...]e conq [...]ests, but striued on­ly not to bee [...] themselues. At last, when they were accus­tomed [...], they [...] with the [...] fierce storme of [...] afterwards [...] of [...], which lighted not onely vpon [...] with the same shocke [...] vpon France, sp [...]eading [...] strength [Page 224] and violence of those inuading Saracens. But those Moores beaten out of France, and the neighbouring parts of Spaine, seated themselues beyond the riuers B [...]tis and Iberu [...].

The other parts of Spaine were diuided then into seuerall and [...] principalities: vn­till (being the first pledge of [...] Spaine) Isabella, who succeeded her brother in the Kingdom of Castile, was marri­ed to Ferdinand the Arragonian King, and by the greatnesse of her dowry, brought Arragon a Prouince, that had euer beene more free then befitted a true Monarchy, into due subiection; afterwards with conioyned strength they vanquished the Moores, and chased them a­gaine [Page 225] into Affricke, who al­most eyght ages had possessed Spaine.

Vnder the felicity of their reigne did that Columbus dis­couer America in the West-Indies, and that the affaires of Spaine with prosperous fa [...]es might bee fully exalted on all sides, the Ne [...]ther-lands also, by the new alliance of Philip of Austria, were added to the Spanish Empire.

At the same time also, the forces of France being driuen out of Apulia, did Ferdinand make himselfe m [...]ster of the the Kingdome of Naples.

Immediately after, did Charles the fift, honoured with the title of Rom [...]n Emperour, bring to the growing affaires of Spaine, [Page 226] a new reuerence, and ripenesse as it were, and by prowesse subdued the Dutchy of Mil­lane.

There remained now out of Spaine onely Portugall, disioy­ned both by name and affection from it, a Kingdome enriched by their tra [...]ique with the East-Indies, to which with bold ad­uentures they sailed along farre and dangerous African shores, & established a Kingdome there by conquest, and plantation of rich colonyes: but this Pro­uince also was by the death of King Sebastian, vnited againe to the body of Spaine, and were brought vnder the sub­iection of Philip the second, the Spanish Monarch.

But by these increases of the Spanish greatnesse, the [Page 227] manners of the people are not changed, but excu [...]ed [...] For there was in them, at the time of their meanest lownesse, a pride be [...]ting the greatnesse they haue now; to which those people were come by t [...]e [...] of their owne nature; and that is the spring of vertues and [...]. They haue graue mindes, and [...], but [...] a kinde of [...], which makes them not [...]ashly carried vpon [...] things; they know as well how to vse their victories, as to ob [...]aine them: so being constant proofe against all dan­ge [...]s, they are not vanquished by time, nor wearied out. Nor can you [...] from those [...], which it once posse [...]s, this Spanish grauity, which na­ture [Page 228] and art together haue made. But the words in which they magnifie themselues and their Nation, loathsome to the hearers, and often traduced by satyricall Comicke-writers, their countenances also, ge­stures, and conuersations, sui­table to their swelling lan­guage, intolerable to all but flauish and vanquished mindes, doth adde almost a kinde of ha­tred to their seuere Maie­sty.

The Spanish souldier is bet­ter in any army, and especially in their Phalanx, then in a single encounter. That wealth which patrimony hath acquired, and often denyed to the necessity of their temperate-made bodies, they loue to spend vpon appa­rell, and so display it in ostenta­tion; [Page 229] with a confidence of themselues alwayes great, but most of all among fearefull or patient men. They are won­derous frugall, not onely in the heate of their owne climate (where their bodies enfeebled by the excesse and violence of Sunne, make them desirous of little food:) but all other places where they eate at their owne cost. A little quantity of bread with hearbes and sawces of no great price, will commonly susfice their Nature so hardly accustomed; but at another mans charges, none are more free for the mirth of feasting, and then there can bee no courses of rich ban­queting, which with their eyes and hands they do not fully exa­mine [Page 230] but in the most wretched and low estate of por [...]ty, a [...] cannot forsake his sa­perci [...]ous p [...]de. There was a poore [...] on his death­bed, who, [...]hen his sonne borne to the [...] came vnto him and a [...] in i [...] he would comma [...] [...] him in any thing before his death; with his [...]ast [...] br [...]ath thus answered his sonne; Remember [...] that thou keep vp thy selfe in that port that beseemes the maiesty of thy fa­mily. But a poore woman of Spaine seemed to mee a miracle or pride in this nature. Shee was clothed, but scarce co­uered, with ragges and p [...] ­ches; and accompanied with three children, by misreable begging shee sustained her hun­gry [Page 231] life: shee lighted by cha [...]ce vpon French Gentlemen, and one of them mooued with com­passion of her apparent misery, said vnto h [...]r, I will ease thee, woman of part of thy burden; giue me the eldest of thy sonnes (hee was [...] yeeres o [...]d) hee shall attend vpon mee, and bee p [...]onely to easy ser [...]ces befit­ting his age; and, when hee growes vp, shall at my charges bee bound to any trade that hee best likes. The woman answe­red, God forbid, Sir, that, although you see mee in some wants, I should condemne my sonne to folow a basenes, whom neither you nor I can tell to how high fortunes he may bee ordained and by what eminent vertues auailable hereafter to his country. It were better for [Page 232] him (if so the [...]ates will suffer) to bee pined with hunger, then to descend to seruices a thing abhorred by braue mindes, especially vnder a for­reine master.

But the Spaniards often­times coozen the world, with a false shadow of those great spirits, which naturally, or vn­aduisedly they make shew of. For many of them contented with a poore and meane for­tune, seeme not at all to erect their thoughts to any aduance­ment beseeming their super ci­lions garbe. From hence it comes to passe, that you shall see them for small pensions grow old in garrisons (as it were in their owne houses) entertayning no cares of that height that may bee suitable to their ambitious [Page 233] language. Which things the mindes of the French can lesse endure, being alwaies erected to any new archieuement; nor the diligence of an Italian, watch­full alwayes to lay hold vpon a future fortune.

The studies of learning shine not in Spaine with that lustre, which this age hath restored to the naked and po [...]e Muses, when euen that sp [...]t of crudi­tion, which ought to tell a [...]l parts of the se [...]nces, d [...]d seeme altogether lost and vanished. For there neyther elequence in the Latine tongue, nor the e­legance of Poetry, nor that profitable and solid know­ledge of History, and ancient rites is at all regarded. They keepe their old and (almost [Page 234] barbarous) ma [...]ner of attaining learning.

Philosophy they study, they loue d [...]uinity, and despise not the knowledge of the Lawes and C [...]nons but cannot endure that those learning, should be dressed at all in the Greeke or Latine elegancies; as supposing that by those a [...] (as they thinke them) he [...] to professe diuinity in Spaine, became shortly of low e [...]teeme there, by that infamy (as it were) of the best learning, and was con­strained earnestly to begge leaue of his pa [...]ions, that hee might [Page 235] [...] bookes written [...] languge [...]) So that [...] of warlike [...] on purpose put on th [...]s m [...]s­becomming forme of cruelty and neglect toward the Mu­ses.

They haue deepe and reser­ued [Page 236] mindes, fitted for slow pro­iects: hence will they vnder­take long mines, and vnseene, as it were, by the besieged, most wisely esteeming of warre and peace, according to their owne occasions.

They frame their mindes ac­cording to their wealth, and by this inuincible art to triumph ouer the most valiant Nations. But their most vsuall matter is, for procuring of reuerence, to vse the names of the cale­stiall powers, and by pretence of religion, to conceale their ambi­tion from the peoples eyes: im­puting their desires and coue­tousnesse to Gods cause, and fighting, as it were, for him, they conquer subt [...]lly for them­selues. With that preface-like beginning before all their at­empts, [Page 237] they enter, as it were, into a Scene or Trage­dy.

Ferdinandus and Isabella taught to their successours that sleight, which is now growne their country fashion. For they would euer finde out in their enemies some cause of pub­like hatred, that they in all their warres might bee thought executors of the wrath of God.

When they negotiate with Princes of other nations, they chuse not their EmbasSadours out of the number of their Dukes or Grandes, but from thesolitude of some monastery or other. And so, besides the charges abated in the Embas­sage, such kinde of Agents procure to the businesse [Page 238] [...]. This thing [...] most worthy of praise, [...] name of the Indies, together with his great brags, his wary and indu­strious fraud, can vphold a fame of wealth in his Excheque [...]. But that p [...]mp of [...] language in the Spanish Nation, is therfore lesse d [...]atastfull, because it [...] not at all affected or put on by thē; but to swell of it selfe euen from the instrict of nature. Of which, euery motion, though declining into vices, I know not by what Genus, doth seeme becomming.

But that you may not thinke [Page 239] them vnworthy of such a fas [...]i­on [...], as may seeme fit for the p [...]sonating of a Tragedy, they are great ha [...]s (at least in publicke) of all sordid base­nesse; they are great louers, for the atti [...]e of the [...] [...], of neatenes [...]e, and the National [...] in their apparell.

The [...] weapons (as the chiefe ornament of a man) though they want meate, they wi [...]l both keepe and weare.

They [...]aue [...] folly (except one [...]y thou b [...]ag­ging) eyther in [...] or other con [...]ersation of life.

Their [...] are subtill, and fit for all things, nor are they so ignorant of what is in them­selues, as desirous to deceiue others with a g [...]sse of pom­pous words.

[Page 240] The beginnings of their dis­ [...]ourses and friendships, they do adorne with a colour of the most gentle humanity; and you in those beginnings, may accost them in the same mild beha­uiour; but when they after­wards come to their superci­lious pride, you must encoun­ter them with the like Ma­iesty.

But if thy slender fortune doth enforce thee to bee a para­site there, then with a bashfull silence and applause thou must feede their mindes swelling a­bout their owne, or their Nati­ons greatnesse. And then also, but that thou already coozen'st him, thinke not, that thou hast him fast enough; but remem­ber, that as hee feedeth thee [Page 241] with mighty promises beyond all credit, so thou art tyed to promise him greater seruices then euer thou canst be able to performe, supporting thy lyes with propor­tionable bold­nesse. *⁎*

PANNONIA, when the affaires and strength of the Roman Empire were in decli­ning, was seized by the Longo­bards and Hunnes, who bestow­ing their name vpon the Pro­uince, called it Hungary.

The bounds of this King­dome, according to the strength and puissance of their Monarchs, haue beene often changed; as fortune hath eyther contracted [Page 243] them, or extended them vpon the neighbouring countries. It is watered with the riuers, Sa [...]s, and Tibiscus; Ister aug­mented from many fountaines, doth runne thorow it, and at Taurunam in his wide channell doth receiue the Sa [...]s.

The country from Polonia and Germany extendeth it selfe vnto the Dacians and Masia; but at that side, which lyeth toward Illyricum and Dalma­tia, the Alpes doe bound it. A soyle happy in all increases. It restores Corne in great abun­dance. How rich it is in pas­ture fields, their Cattel which are sold about the wor [...]d, doe sufficiently declare to other Na­tions.

A hundred-thousand head of Cattell, or there-abouts [Page 244] are yeerely sent from thence into Germany, and so to the countries bordering vpon Ger­many.

Some parts of Italy also are fed from thence with the like prouision.

Their wine is most rich and generous, not much vnlike to that which growes in Spaine.

The Climate also is healthfull enough, saue onely that about Autumne a di [...]temper of the vn­constant ayre (hourely changing) doth breede diseases, but most cruelly vpon strangers. Their nights are chilly with extreme cold, which hot dayes succeede, at noone both parching their grounds, and sweltring with heate the bodies of men. Whom in the euening the cold astringent ayre againe surprizes vnawares. [Page 245] The earth in the bowels of it hath many metalls both of dif­ferent natures and estimations; and gold it selfe is roled vp on the sandy shores of many of their riuers; and the same riuers most fruitfull in breeding of fish, which are cheape there by reason of the plenty.

The nature of the people is therefore more hardly to bee learned, because in this age they are o'rwhelmed with affli­ctions and scarce left to their owne dispositions; for they are oppressed on one side by the Barbarians, which haue made themselues masters of a great part of it; on the other side auxiliary Souldiers leuied a­mongst all the natiōs of Europe, haue by their multitude and long aboade in that Countrey, [Page 246] and long aboade in that coun­trey infused, in some measure, their manners and dispositions into the people.

I can suppose it should spring from no other cause, then con­tinuance of warre and calamity among them, that the Country-Boores haue quite lost their in­nocent simplicity, and are turned so extremely eruell. For with­out any difference they lye in waite, both for their owne souldiers and the enemies. And if any doe happen by night to stray from their quarters, the Boores are ready to surprize the prey, and rob (with most vn­thankfull vill [...]ny) those souldi­ers, who [...] all dangers doe endeauour th [...] in preseruation; and reuerla them but naked, and in all extremity.

[Page 247] Their Noble-men (as is fit) are of a brauer and better dispo­sition, their mindes and visa­ges framed to magnificence, and their whole garbes com­posed to a pleasing Maie­sty.

They vse Gownes and such robes as the Easterne people, but especially purple, or skie-colou­red. And this attire doth won­derfully become the men, a short sword commonly adorning their gowned side.

They are excellent at subtill and great counsels, and of a cou­rage equall to it; especially if the proiect lye in suddaine, short, and stolne enterprizes.

Their chiefe Nobles are of great wealth, and retaining (though in a Monarchy) very [Page 248] great mar [...]es of true liber­ty.

They are attended, according to their riches, with store of Clients, and those exceeding faythfull in their seruice to them: And no greater care at all possesses them, then not to forsake any of th [...]se prerogatiues, which they from many ages haue maintained in­uiolable. For that reason is their va [...]our more constant in figh­ting against the Turkes, who vnder one Law of seruit [...]de doe oppresse all families, of how great blood or emine [...]ce soeuer. Without this, the inclination of their mindes might well bee fea­red, that they would choose Kings from other places then from Germany. For the Ger­man [...] and Hungarians (a thing ordinary in [...] a neighbour­hood) [Page 249] are at great emulation be­twixt themselues.

Their rai [...]ing at each other in their common discourses at home are very cruell; and with great curiosity they are both busie in discouering or inuenting vices in each other.

The Hungarians are louers of Horses, and haue excellent good ones; they are curious in their armes and attire, euen to delight and pomp [...].

They had rather fight on horse-backe then on foote.

They are most greedy of ho­nours, and haue a great ambition to bee feared by others.

By imitation of the Ita­lian arts and dispositions, they are thought to haue learned the [...] vices, and to perpe­ [...]rate their wicked reue [...]ges [Page 250] with the same arts, and the like maliciousnesse. You would sup­pose them most easie men to em­brace friendship; but whether it be true or false none can be bet­ter Iudges then they themselues which enter into those friend­ships; s [...]riously considering whe­ther they haue deserued so to be beloued: or whether that Nati­on so skilfull in taking of aduan­tages, doe pretend friendship, the better to perpetuate some in [...]ended mischiefe.

There is a Magistrate among them of great note, whom they call the Palatine: he of himselfe hath not power to decree any thing, but may resist the King when hee determines to enact any publicke matter, which is altogether voyd if the Pala­tine gaue his voyce against [Page 251] it. To him the most of them giue great honour, as to the sup­porter of their liberty, and our opposed against the Regall pow­er; no otherwise then of o [...]d the Roman Tribanes were ordai­ned as curbers of the Consuls iurisdiction. From hence might you see [...]hat the great and swel­ling spirits of that Nation, would [...] brooke a hard, and vnlimited power ouer them: vnlesse they be forced (as it ap­peares in those Hungarian Pro­uinces which the Turke now possesses) to an awe of their so­ueraigne Lords by so sterne a discipline as doth for euer reaue them of any hope of liber­ty.

The Illyrians and Dalma­ [...]ians, whom we call the Istrians and Slaurians, are seated vpon [Page 252] the shores of the Adriaticke [...] Towards the Land they border vpon Pannonia. That Region is vnpleasant on the backe of the great Mountaines, vpon whose ridges cold Winter coth perpe­tually tyrannize. But that part of the Country, which is seated in the valleys, is of a milder tem­per, and well stored with Villa­ges and Castles.

They are Nations that liue vn­der the command of others, and hauing beene long accustomed to diuers Lords, doe for the most part follow their manners and dispositions. Part of it is subiect to the dominion of the Austrian Princes; much of it that lyes by the sea-shore, the Venecians are masters of; and the rest is vnder the Empire of the Turkes: from he [...]ce it comes that their habits [Page 253] and manners are partly Germans, partly Italian, and partly barba­rous, according to the seuerall Genius's of their soueraigne Lords.

The Region is almost not visited by any, saue onely that in their hauens at some times they doe harbour ships, which are sailing from Venice into the East, and returne from thence againe into the Adriaticke.

The other places doe not at all inuite strangers.

Those souldiers which are leuyed from thence, are re­nowned for valour and great audacity, especially in the Turk [...] [...]; and few but they, are ascribed at Constantinople, into his guard of Ianizaries.

[Page 254] At the North-side of Hun­gary is Poland, which stretcheth from thence to the great Ocean, and bordereth vpon Russia. A country, which though won­derfull spacious, yet no where almost hath any mountaines in it, and from plaineness [...] of it, is [...]o named; for plain [...]esse in the Scy­thian tongue is called Pole.

Their fields lye out in great Champion-plaines, which in the Winter are coue [...]ed with deepe Snow; but when the Snow is gone, are very fruitfull in Corne, not onely for the vse of the inhabitants: but their graine transported by sea to many countries lying along the Bal­tike seas, doth supply the dearths and ba [...]en season of other Na­tions. Their Winters are raging, and strongly congeale both their [Page 255] grounds and riuers: because the violence of Northern winds, wanting the repe [...]cussion of any Mountaines, hath, as at sea, a free passage in the open ayre, besides their neerenesse to the Northerne Pole, where the force of the Sunne is very feeble, espe­cially in Winter-tune.

But Nature, for their assist­ance, hath afforded them great and spacious Woods, which doe not onely furnish them with [...]yring to expell the cold; but within their couerts [...]oe nourish beasts, whose skins for cloathing afford them furres of greatest price and esteemation. This double assistance haue the Polanders against the tyranny of their winter. But their woods do yeeld them another benefit; in which the [...]e are at many places a [Page 256] wonderfull number of swarms of Bees.

They are wilde Bees, hiued, or kept by the care of no man; vpon pla [...]e Okes, or trunkes of other trees they ha [...]g by clusters; there do they build their houses of waxe, and fill them within with most delici­ou [...] hony. From this alone is the countrey exceedingly, and with great ease, enriched. Their waxe is merchandise to other countreys, and of the honey they themselues doo make a kinde of drinke, which they esteeme very delicious. Some prouinces of Poland are too full of riuers and [...]rishes, in so much as that in Sommer-time they are scarce accessible: but in winter, when the waters are frozen, they haue S [...]eds, [Page 257] in which they passe with speed vpon the ice. With those there­fore they traue [...]l the country, & that is their [...] of [...] with forreine merchants, who come to buy the [...]r waxe, their furres and whatsoeuer else is of price and [...] in so cold a country.

They want stones, for the most part to build them houses; their walls are of tim­ber, and their houses [...] couered with thatch, except only their chiefe Cities, and palaces of Noblemen, which are adorned as curiously as that countrey can possibly afford. But the Poles, vnder a rough clime, liue hard liues, no [...] are the dispositions of the people composed to the elegancy of [Page 258] our age; and from thence also are they of more cruell na­tures.

Their Innes to receiue stangers, are farre different from the man­ner of our Countreys: they are brought into a roome altoge­ther vnfurnished, and com­monly where the wall is digged thorow to affoord light, and stand open to the violence of winde and winter. There are no beds for the gu [...]ts to lye vpon, nor tables for them to eat on; but the walls are full of tackes, where the guests in order may hang those burdens, which they haue brought with them; and the ground is stro­wed with straw, which is en­tended for bed [...] in those Innes. Therefore whosoeuer doe tra­uell thorow that countrey, do [Page 259] accordingly prouide themselues as if they remooued their dwellings with them; their meat, and other prouision, to­gether with their beds, they carry in Waines with them; that beeing entertained in those naked Innes, they may with their owne prouision defend themselues against cold and hun­ger.

They are a Nation borne to cr [...]elty and [...], which they call liberty; inso­much as they can scarce yet bee brought to abrogate a [...]aw of vnspeakable barbarisme which for many ages hath continued among them.

By that Law it wae appoin­ted, that whosoeuer had kil­led a man, should bee absolued from all feare of iustice, [...] [Page 260] did throw vpon the carcasse of the dead man a certaine summe of money, which in that Law is mentioned. Nor would they so basely haue prized the blood of man, if out of the cruell fiercenes of their barbarous Genius, they had not iudged the murder of man a slight offence.

They doe abhorre the very name not onely of slauery, but of obedience to a iust and law­full Scepter.

Their King by force of armes is compel [...]d to obserue their Country-lawes.

The Nobility haue bestow­ed vpon themselues most mis­chieuous prerogati [...]es, by which they may safely abuse and hurt each other; because the King hath not power enough to punish their offences in that [Page 261] kind. They are wedded strangely to their owne fancies; nor doe they take to themselues a grea­ter licentiousnesse in manners and vnciuill conuersation, then in opinions of religion, and [...] matt [...]rs; of which, [...] man without any fea [...] [...] both thinke and [...] selfe listeth: Which [...] and are ashamed to learne [...] best wisedome from another mans direction, from hence it is, that their mindes at this day are diu [...]ded into so many [...] haue among [...] fortunes. [Page 262] They are ap [...]er to bee outra­gious, then deceitfull to any man, and themselues easyer to bee ruined by f [...]aud then [...].

[...] Poland, Russia lyes, [...] the Prince of the [...] doth reigne. The [...] is named from the city [...] which by reason of [...] of inhabitants, [...] of their Emperour, is [...] of Russia also. It ex­tend [...] in a long and sp [...]cious tract from the Ocean to the Caspian sea; and borders vpon [...] sides both with the [...] vpon other [...] [Page 263] till the Spring bee farre spent; and then succeeds a cruell Sum­mer, which striuing (as it were) to redeem those delayes which the long Winter had there made, doth ripen their fruites with a most [...] heate, but not so kindely [...] trees in our Countries. [...] almost beyond beliefe, [...] should ripen there, [...] among vs require not [...] very hot, but a continued S [...] ­mer. There are many woods in the countrey, and in them beasts of most precious Furres. They haue store also of [...] and honey, which [...] the chie­fest merchandises of that coun­try: [...] inhabitants, but yet not answerable to the largenesse of the Land which they [...].

[Page 264] They are a Nation borne for seruitude, fierce vpon any shew of liberty, but quiet, if strictly kept vnder, and refuse not the [...]. They doe freely confesse [...] slaues to their Prince, [...] both their estates and [...] at his disposing; the [...] are not in a more sordid [...] subiection to the Scep­ [...] their Ottoman Emprours. [...] esteeme also of all other [...], according to their owne Geni [...]s. Strangers also that either by chance or on purpose doe come into Mosco­ [...] are condemned to the same [...]; and forced to bee slaues to that Prince; [...] they goe away, and Bee [...] againe, they are punished as fugitiues. The great men; although them­selues bee slaues, are very proud [Page 265] toward the common people; and they very fearefull of the great mens frowaes. The people are re­ported to bee so ignorant of lear­ning, that few among them [...] the ordinary prayers of [...] Church vnto God, by hea [...]. [...] are fitter for warre, then [...] for the most part are in [...] ther to repell the inuasions [...] Tartars on one side: or on the o­ther, eyther to inuade or keep off the Polonians: in this age they haue beene much busied in ciuill warres among themselues. Their batta [...]lts consist all of horsemen; they vse no foot for this reason, because they place the moment of all their designes in celerity: with great speede they both as­sault & fly. When once they begin to feare, they are brought to vtter desperation; so that when they [Page 266] flye from a battell, if the ene­my ouertake them, they are farre frō making of the least resistance, and doe so absolutely yeild them­selues into the Cōquerours hand, that they doe not so much as beg [...] liues. They are remisse in [...] of theft, though seuere­ [...] [...] execute robbers.

[...] awary Nation, and very [...] in deceiuing others; nor [...] ignorant that Merchants [...] in that kind suspect them; whom that they may get to haue the better opinion of them, in their commerce oftentimes they [...] themselues to bee other countrymen.

They are exceedingly giuen to drinking, and besides their coun­try drinkes, they haue Wines brought them from forreyne parts.

[Page 267] Their Wiues liue in great bondage, detained strictly at home, worthy also of greater afflictions.

They are (according to re­port) of such incredibly seruile dispositions, that they measure the kindnes of their husban [...], by the number of the [...] they giue them: and [...] thinke themselues so well, [...] when they fall vpon men of fierce dispositions. A meane fel­low of Germany trauelled into Mosco [...]ia, and (if in such a tri [...]ling tale you desire his name) he was called [...]. He continued there, and liking the country, married a wife in it. Whom whilst he loued dearly and by all kindenesses sought to gaine mutuall affection from her; she with a sad deiected [Page 268] countenance did often sigh, and expresse other tokens of a sorrowfull minde. At last when hee demanded the cause of her sadnesse, professing that hee had beene wanting in no office of loue to her. Why (quoth the woman) doe you so cunuingly counterfeit affection? doe you thinke I know not how little you regard me? and withall she began to make great lamentati­on. He amazed at this, began to embrace her, and still asked her wherein hee had offended, and if perchance hee had done ill, hee would hereafter amend the fault.

To this his wife answered, Where are thē those stripes by which thou testifiest thy loue? For husbands among vs by bea­ting their wiues, doe expresse [Page 269] their loue and care of them. When Iordan heard this, amaze­ment a while suppressed his laughter, but afterward when they doth vanished, hee thought it his best course to vse his wife as shee had prescri­bed; and not long after, hee tooke occasion to beate the woman: shee appeased with stripes, began then earnestly to loue and obserue he: hus­band. But hee could keepe no measure, but grew more cruell then his wretched wife desi­red: and at last with an vnhap­py stroke (they say) broke he thighs and her necke also.

Germany, where it is wash­ed by the Balticke sea, bor­ders vpon the Cimbrian Chersonesus, and through a small distance of sea sur­ueys [Page 270] the other Ilands, which make vp the same kingdome of the Cimbrians. It is called at this day Denmarke; from thence is but a short cut to Sweth­land; to which on the North side Norway adioyneth. And these are the regions, out of which so great Nations, famed both for their multitude and victories, rushed like a whirle­winde ouer all Europe. From thence came the Cimbrians, Tentones, Goths, and Vandals; by whom Italy, Libya, Spaine, and a part of France were sore afflicted.

But of later times those Co­lonies that came from thence, were called Normans (that is, No [...]hrea men.) By these Britaine was long possessed; and much of France wasted [Page 271] with fire and sword; but there atlast, after many dangers, peace was compounded, and they seated in Neustria, which they afterwards called Normandy, so that nothing in Europe e­scaped their fury; and being terrible to all, they were com­monly accounted to bee inuin­cible. How it should come to passe that so great a multitude, and a spring (as it were) of Nations should at this day grow drie, it is vncertaine. But fore it is, that now in those countries, townes are very rate; and they are so farre from fending Colonyes abroade, that when they haue warre, they are enforced to vse for­raine souldiers. I could beleeue that those barbarous Nations, frugall in old times in their bar­raine [Page 272] soile, and ignorant of vi­ces, encreased in Children; and because the vnfruitfulnesse of the soile denyed nourishment to so numerous a people, they did often send out their young men to seeke out new plantati­ons: which then men of all a­ges did desire. But now by that mad vice of tipling and surfets they haue ouer whelmed their genitall strength, and can beget inhabitants for no more then their owne countries. They ex­ceede the Germans in drunken­nesse. When they awake in the morning they fil their stomacks with a wonderfull hot kinde of drinke, which by the fire is ex­tracted from Wine it selfe. When they are thus refreshed, the fumes of that hot liquor ascending into their heads, doe [Page 273] cause sleepe; their rest is but short, and then they returne a­gaine to drinking. Then they drinke▪ Wine or Ale, as many a like it. That time that re­maines till noone, they bestow in businesse.

At last they meete at din­ner, which by continued dis­courses they make no bones many times to prolong till sup­per time; from thence they are carried to bed, neyther apt to doe nor receiue wrong.

They breake no promises, when their hands are giuen.

There are among them many footesteps of the Ger­man language, but more of their German manners and be­hauiour.

Norway is but thinly stored with inhabitants: their liues [Page 274] they spend for the most part in hunting; no country affordeth Timber more fit for masts orplankes for ships. It is a rude Nation, and with most men in­famous for witchcraft.

They by report can fell winds, which those that faile from thence doe buy, equalling by a true pr [...]digy, the fable of Vly [...]es and Ae [...]lus.

They haue cruell winters, and very dangerous to those that are not aware of them. A be [...]mming aire, with little or no feeling, doth seize the body; that before you perish, you can scarce know that you are peri­shing.

From this plague, by a me­morable example, was He deli­uered, whom God had ordai­ned to bee Monarch of all Brit­taine, [Page 275] Iames, as then but King of Scotland.

Fredericke the second King of Denmar [...] had espoused vn­to him his daughter Anne; but she sailing to Scotland, was of­ten cast backe vpon the coast of Norway, by the force of chance, and euill spirits that raised vp windes at the com­mand of a witch; who after­ward suffered for her offence.

The King being young, and a Louer, impatient of delay, re­solued to [...]a [...]le vnto his Wife, and in midst of Winter en­tered that sea so infamous for [...]; after hee had long struggled with weather and tempests, he arriued in Norway. And not long after, the shippe that car­ried him, as if it had beene set vpon the land, hard frozen vp [Page 276] with yee remained immune­able.

The thing was told to King Iames, who had presently a de­sire of seeing this vnusuall sight. For about none of his Britaine shores doth the sea freeze.

There was (the weather being faire) a hauen not farre from the Kings lodgings; he went therefore along, the windes neyther blowing, nor the aire (as it seemed) very vio­lently cold; and beholding a while the frozen sea, hee retur­ned into his chamber, suspect­ing nothing of the danger of the Winter. But when hee drew neere to the fire, one of those that stood about him, looking by chance vpon the Kings right hand, perceiued [Page 277] that finger that was next the thumbe, to bee blue, pale, and bloodlesse; and knowing the condition of that aire, cryed out to the King not to come neere the fire; the ayre, s [...] (quoth hee) has hurt you, and be [...]mmed your finger, being in this case, the fire with an vn­seasonable heat will quite vndo it. The plague of this cold must bee expelled by another cold. The King wondering at this, denyed at first that he was hurt at all; for hee felt no paine: but hee shortly perceiued, that hee was well aduised. For the finger grew stiffe and dead, losing all sence and heate of blood.

When hee desired remedy, they told him there was at [Page 278] hand a certaine cure, which with a short, though cruell paine, should restore his health, and that hee must indure it, vn­lesse hee would rather lose his finger, which was stricken with th [...] pestilent Winter: then there was suddainely brought him a vessell full of snow, not melted by the fire, but thawing softly by the heate of the Chamber. Into that, the King adu [...]sed by the inhabitants, thrust his finger: when on a suddaine, a cruell p [...]ine cree­ping thorow the ioynts of his lately benammed finger, had almost put him out of [...].

His paine was that, which first taught him how sence was restored to the finger. By this [...] the King was made [Page 279] whole; and being admonished of such an vnlook'd for mis­chiefe, hee could afterwards more easily auoyd it, or cure it. For not long after, his right care, as hee rid, was taken with the same ma­lady. *⁎*

THe Turkes, a barbarous people, borne to the de­struction of Cities, Arts, and Learning, haue prospered more by our vices, then their owne vertue. This publike calamity of the world, by barbarous vio­lence, multitudes of men, and obedience to seuere discipline hath growne great. Their be­ginning was from Scythia, which wee call Tartaria. From thence they were called as stipendary aides in the dissen­tions of Persia, or of their owne accord forsooke their barren country, inuited by the [Page 281] neighbouring regions fertility, and with a wonderfull religi­ous obedience followed the fortune of him whom they made their captaine. To him they gaue both themselues and their estates, eyther neuer ac­quainted with liberty, or now voluntarily throwing it away from them.

Nor are other Nations more constantly obedient to their good and lawfull Princes, then they to that horrid tyranny, to which they haue condemned thēselues; vnlesse that now it is thought, the extremity of that reuerence is by degrees abated vnder Princes vnworthy of it: or that the affections of people being too violent, are neuer cor­stant.

[Page 282] They first seized that part of Asia, which heretofore was saide to abound with all de­lights; and from thence vnder A [...]urath sayling into Europe, with the aide and shipping of the Ligurians, that famous Greece, the ancient seat of the Muses, became their prey. But they by the harshnesse of their dispositions striuing against hu­manity, continued still in the ferity of their ancestours, that you may know, a ciuill Climate may herbour [...] people. Whilest they stuck in Bithynia, or afterwards in the shores of Thrace, on either side the two e [...]ulous Empires of Greece and [...], which, vnlesse they could vnquish, would vanquish them, stirred vp their barbarous courages, being then [Page 283] in the heat of their first victo­ries: where (to our shame) they ruined those mighty enemies, and chose Constantinople taken by Mahomet, the chiefe seat of their Monarchy, beeing de­lighted with the situation of the City in the borders of Asia and Europe, as also the con­uenience of a most stately hauen, and the fame of that Empire which so many ages had there flourished.

That which remained in the East, was either possessed by the Souldan, who to his king­dome of Aegypt, had io [...]ned Syria, and the neighbouring regions: or was vnder the Persians, whose Empire from E [...]phr [...]tes extended to India. The Persian was to the Turke an open enemy, and in continuall [Page 284] and cruell warre with them about the bounds of their Em­pire. They both made league with the Aegyptian Souldan: but Selymus the Turke, thin­king that the Souldan did more religiously obserue his league with the Persians, made that an occasion of warre against him. Neuer in so short a warre was there gained a greater victory for spoiles, for men, and Countreyes; and which is more, a constant possession of them. For by two set bat­tels, and one tumultuary fight, all the dominions, wealth, and armes of the Souldan, were by fortune translated to Selymus. From hence, hee grew more terrible to Persia, and began with ascornefull pride to ouer­looke the wealth of Europe. [Page 285] But returning from Syria in tri­umph, hee ended his life by a sharpe disease in the same place, where once hee fought a bat­tell against his father Baiazethe as if his fathers Manes had claimed a reuenge. But pre­sently Solyman, more furious then his father, inuaded Pan­nonia, and taking Buda, which is the head of Hungary, hee presumed to besiege the Au­strian Vienna. But the pleasures of Constantinople did by de­grees mollify the mindes of those Princes, and auert them from our ruines. But wee in the meane time weakened with warres among our selues, and emulation of nations; blush not to expect from the Turks hands warre or peace, daring to offer nothing against them, [Page 286] but contented if not prouo­ked, wee send Embassadours to those tyrants of Constanti­nople, to sue for leagues and pur­chase peace; whom they either through pride, or hate to our religion, esteeme not worthy of their audience, or scarce their sight; and thinke it too­much below the dignity of their Empire, to send: (for a com­merce of mutuall friendship) their owne Embassadours into Christendome. But as the fe­lic [...]ty of so many victories hath raised, almost beyond hu­mane greatnesse, the maiesty of the Turkish Emperour; so, (which is wonderfull) it hath made the people wretched, by whose hands and strength the Empire was raised. For when the Ottoman Princes were yet [Page 287] low, and contained within their campe, almost their whole na­tion, then surely what prey or dignity they would diuide, must bee diuided among those souldiers, nor had they any beside those Scythians to ioyne in friendship with. But their wealth increasing, and they free in choice whom of their owne or conquer'd nations to preferre to gouernements in the commonwealth, their grea­test honours are neuer besto­wed vpon the ancient race of Turkes, the posterity of those souldiers, from whom the Ot­toman family receiued toge­ther with the Empire, a power to bee now safely vnthankfull to them.

Wee cannot tell, whether through disdaine, or custome [Page 288] which among barbarous people (is in stead of religion) or through secret policy for secu­rity of their Empire, it come to passe that great gouernements, dignities, and places of iudica­ture are conferred on none but those which are borne of Chri­stian parents. From Dalmatia especially and Illyricum, Boyes and Girles are taken from the bosome of their parents, to bee cloistered vp in Constantinople. There they change into a mad superstition the religion of their fathers, which they cannot remember, and beeing circum­cised, are trained vp in the religion of Mahomet. And this company so taken by rapine, are to the Turkish Emperour as a seminary of Captaines and Princes, to whome the guard [Page 289] of his person and the strength of his Empire is committed. From hence are taken his Eu­nuchs for neerest seruices, and therefore there not con­temptible. From hence are his wiues and concubines, and al­waies the mother of that heire that must succeede in so [...]reat an Empire. Out of that band hee chooses husbands for his Aunts and sisters, to beget Cou­sins and Nephews to him. And so farre is it growne aduanta­geous not to bee borne of the Turkish race, that those chiefe places in the Empire, which those that are borne of Chri­stian parents doe hold, neuer deuolue vnto their children. And for no other reason, then that they were borne to the Lawes and Rites of Turkie. [Page 290] This doth that Nation suffer, so much deiected euen in their owne iudgement.

The Turke [...] are of a [...]usticke and base nature, not worthy of liberty, which they care not to acquire. The Law of Mahomet forbids them to polish their rude minds with any humanity of learning, that so being igno­rant, they may be drawne with more case to the madnesse of that Law which hee hath pre­scribed.

Their chiefest care is about their houshold stuffe, their flockes and heards of cattell. Their buildings are scarce for vse, much lesse for ornament, ey­ther yet mindfull of their Scy­thian originall, and that wande­ring kind of life, or else because they are but tenants at will, and [Page 291] at the Princes pleasure must remooue not onely their dwel­lings, but their countreyes. By an inbred affection they doe wonderfully adore their Em­perour; they call him the sha­dow and image of God.

The cruellest in that Nation, and the greatest haters of Chri­stians, are not those that are de­riued by a long pedigree from the old Turkish race, but those that lately haue reuolted from vs; the other (they say) are of a milder nature, but farre from our dispositions.

There is no where more sub­tilty in poysoning: and it is scarce credible with how much art they doe extract and tem­per the strength of venomous things; nor doe they destroy any man that way, but in a won­derfull [Page 292] subtile manner, euery man in that country alike vici­ously studying how to giue or auoyd death by poyson. Who would beleeue it? they require not a tast nor touch, a little aire corrupting the vitall parts will bring death, and that a quicke one. A Bashaw lately had bought the gouernment of Aleppo, of some that were gracious in the Court. It is a City not two daies iourney from the Cilieian sea, enriched by the frequency of merchants, and traffique from the East; from whence mer­chandise is brought, partly by the riuer Euphrates, and partly by land-carriages. From whence the Gouernours get great wealth, and rob the Prouince as licenciously as they buy the place dearely. When this man [Page 293] therefore was sent to his gouern­ment, another with greater bribes had corrupted the same courtiers, and was appointed to succ [...]ede the other, who had scarce as yet tasted the sweete­nesse of his gouernment. The Gouernour speedily he [...]ing of this newes from his f [...]ds, was (as is likely) sadly strucken with it; hauing as yet scarce got any thing to recompence his cost in buying the place. Hee therefore calls a counsell of his friends, and among them com­plaines of the losse of his estate, and the perfidiousnesse of the mercenary Court. He seemed in doubt, whether hee should obey the letters which called him backe to Constantinople, or resist his successor by ar­med force; and so with a [Page 294] new summe of money eyther to obtaine pardon for his bold­nesse of the Constantinopol [...]tan courtiers, or else not to suruiue his honour, and estate. Whilst in these cogitations hee was anxious and raging, the faithful­lest of his friends called him a­side, & bade him to nothing rashly; he tells him if hee resist his successour, it would be cen­sured rebellion; that in their state there was no crime so hai­nous, as not onely to [...], but delay obedience. Take (saith hee) a safer counseil; meete thy [...] with gifts; and lest hee should suspect thy boun [...]y, com­plaine to him that thy fortunes by this vntimely succession are almost sunk, yet thou prefer [...]est nothing before obedience. En­treate him to receiue the Pro­uince [Page 295] which he is sent vnto, and accept, as a pledge of friēdship, those gifts, which thou in hos­pitality bestowest on him, and that hee shall make th [...]e [...] for them, if hee giue th [...]e his letters to Con­stantinople, signifying in them that thou without delay did'st resigne (according to com­mand) the gouernment, priui­ledge, City, and Prouince, into his hands; among thy gifte (quoth hee) there shall bee an handkerchiefe, which I haue, of [...]re workemanship, but anoin­ted with a most mortall poison. If thou hold this neere to his face, as to shew him the ele­gance of the worke, that the least insensible vapour may but come to him, I will promise thee hee shall neuer gouerne [Page 296] in Aleppo. The Gouernour takes the counsell of this sub [...]e fel­low, and with great pompe meeting his successour, brings him into his house. There, among other blandishments of his treacherous liberality, hee shewes to him the fatall hand­kerchiefe [...] wrought with silke and gold. The other with [...] in the wretched man was [...] taken with the [...] of so bountifull a pre­decessour; and so when the night [Page 297] was well spent, they went to bed. In the morning the new Gouernour not able to resist the poisonous ayre which hee had drawn from the handkerchiefe, lay in his bed a dead man; nor did the cause of his suddaine death appeare to any, but to those that contriued it.

When this mischiefe was done, the murderous Bashaw sends letters to Constantinople, both those in which his succes­sour had signifyed his kinde en­tertainement, and others of his owne, to signifie the others death, entreating that now his gouernment & Prouince might becōtinued to him; which he ea­sily obtained, fortune rewarding with felicity so great a wicked­nes. In this cruell wickedly won­derfull art, you neede not more [Page 298] admire their exquisite study and wretched subtlety in poy­sons, then the corrupt manners of the Nation, people sold by magistrates, law and right mea­sured by money, and other mis­chiefes of the basest tyranny; there scarce lie any actions a­gainst bribery and oppression: the great magistrates doe too cheaply esteeme of the iniuries which the common people suf­fer, and thinke them not worth reuenging, who by continuance of slauery, and education accor­ding, dare not so much as repine at the misery of so abiect a con­dition.

I wonder at nothing more among the Turkes, then that men that so constantly auerre the immortality of soules (that they may from thence lesse va­lue [Page 299] their liues) doe giue them­selues licence to act those crimes, which Nature, euen without a Law, would abhorre. Yet to relieue the poore and strangers, many of them are very forward; for these offices of humane compassion, houses euery where are builded, for the sicke or weary to abide in, and maintenance, eyther from the publike charge, or pri [...]ate mens Wills is giuen to them; nor are wee, though [...] thinke vs, and call vs d [...]g [...], debarred of that humanity and reliefe. They doe wonderfully reue­rence their parents; and though at any time they be iniurious to them, yet the remembrance of life receiued from them, pre­ [...]ailes aboue the sharpenesse of the iniury. They eate much [Page 300] meate, and are more carefull in adorning their bodies then their mindes.

For all those lusts, for which they are infamous, there is lesse fault in them then in their fil­thy prophet Mahomet, who by his Law forbids not such con­cupiscēces too much inbred in mortall men, though restrained by the lawes of God and mo­desty: so did he thinke to allure that military people, but yet (as beeing Easterne) es [...]aemi­ [...]ate in pleasures. So that, by a wretched ignorance of ver­tue, they are exercised in these vices, as being allowed to them. Nor is cruelty seuered from their lust, especially in their Prince, who challenges to him­selfe, aswell the blood, as the wealth of his subiects.

[Page 301] The Turkish Emperour passing thorow Constantinople to hunt in the adioyning fields, spyed at a souldiers doore a young youth want only glancing his effemi­nate eyes. The lust of the wick­ed Prince was kindled, and hee commanded the Youth to bee taken▪ and carried into his pa­lace. But the souldier that abu­sed the boy, loue ouercomming his allegiance, ventured himself to rescue his Catamite, & with a drawn sword resisted the Prin­ces ministers. But what could one doe against a multitude? The Emperour that vsed to be bloodily enraged at any diso­bedience of his men, yet cen­sured not so ill this souldiers vi­olence of loue; but gaue him a farme in the country as a price for the losse of his boy, and com­manded [Page 302] his stipend to be increa­sed. Immediately the Prince bur­ned in lust with this Catamite, and kept him not onely for his pleasure, but ranked him highly in his friendship. Which when the souldiers heard▪ hee desired much to see his once deare loue now in such high honour. Ther­fore by entreaty and gifts hee preuailed with the guard at the doore, that when the Em­perour dined in his garden, hee closely at their backes might see him and the youth together (for hee was alwaies admitted to banquet with the Empe­rour.) At the appointed time hee came: the Emperour af­ter that country-fashion sate downe on the carpets, and by him the impute Catamit, proud with too great rewards of his vnchastity.

[Page 303] The souldier by chance vn­warily stept forth from his place, so that the Youth spied him, who remembring his old seruice, ranne speedily to him, and kist his hand. The Empe­rour, when the Boy returned, starting vp, and viewing him with a [...]erne front, and furious eye, asked him whither (false as he was) hee had turned. Sir (quoth hee) to my old master; whom I could not chuse but salute at least. Immediately the Emperour mad, that hee had a Riuall, with a short sword, which hee wore about him, thrust the Boy thorow. But when he saw him fall, hee fell vpon him to the Earth, and with his brest coue [...]ing the wound, hee bewailed his death. The souldier presently was [Page 304] commanded to dy, as being the occasion of so great sorrow to his Prince; but hee breaking thorow the tumult, escaped by the fauour of the guard, and lur­ked in concealement till the Em­perour was appeased. So that no tyes of friend-ship can bee safe from such fell tyrants, who va­lew not onely their owne safety, but euen their pleasures, aboue the liues of their subiects.

But the warres in that Na­tion are now but moderately followed, and not with the fiercenesse of their forefathers, since their Emperours were idle, whose presence heretofore put greater courage into the souldi­ers. Their Pratorian bonds in Constantinople, whom they call [...]anizari [...]s, discontinued from the exercise of true warre, in idlenesse [Page 305] and city-delights, are growne to a mutinous, but [...] boldnesse. Hence the proud souldiers beginne to lose their discipline, as not fit to endure [...] labour or felicity. There were the [...] that made the Romans there to [...]. But those of them, which gouerne Aegypt, especially the [...] at Great-Ca [...]re, do with great praise exercise the glory of their old warfare; for, remoo [...]ed farre from Court, they are ex­ercised to daily labours, incur­bing those troopes of robbers, which from the mountaine-tops vse to make rodes into the valleyes.

[Page 306] But these souldiers valiant one­ly against a troope of flying theeues, and yeelding enemies, if they should fall vpon the streng [...]h of our armies, would perhaps vse the [...] of their horses, in which they ex­cell, not so much for battell, as for their owne safety by flight.

That vse of the bow (the spec [...]all strength of the Turke) which was once so formidable to the world, is now neglected; I suppose, because this art can­not bee attained without much [...] and labour of the body; and at this day, the souldiers spoyled with [...]ase, and disci­pline ceasing, will not buy va­lour at so deare a rate. Their bowes are short, and cannot be bent but by those that are skil­full; [Page 307] but they discharge their arrowes with much more vio­lence then our [...] do their leaden bullets. We saw indeed (and could scarce credit our owne eyes) a piece of [...], three inches thicke, pierced by a little arrow. And no lesse wonder was it, that a shalt wanting an iron head, shot from a bow, thorow the body of an indifferent tree, appeared at both sides. This art was taught to a man of great account among vs (when hee was at Constantinople) by an old soul­dier of Sclymans; who confes­sed, that skill by the slothful­nesse of his fellowes was quite lost, and that there were scar [...]e three in that vast Empire, which were carefull to preser [...]e in themselues that fortitude of [Page 308] their ancestours, hee sayd, the rest had weake bowes, and one­ly dangerous to light-armed men.

If wee would make vse of the benefit of God▪ and their vi­ces, what were more easy then at this time to [...] those wealthy Prouinces out of their barbarous hands, their o [...]d [...]ury, which they accounted valour, being now forgotten? This do those poore Christians, who groane vnder the yoake of their barbarous tyranny, expect frō vs, being a great multitude, but destitute of armes and leaders; this, [...]ur temples and rites of religion which they wicked­ly haue abolished; and lastly, humanity extinguished, and countries once richly tilled, now rude and desart, nor euer, [Page 309] vnlesse by our aide, able to re­gaine their old lustre. But if any be discouraged, to thinke of so many attempts, and so much wealth heretofore vainely wa­sted, whilst our ancestours stri­ued to redeeme Syria, Palestine, and Agypt out of the hands of Saracens, and as often with great forces taking expeditions against the Turkes; let him con­sider that they were more van­quished by emulation among themselues, then by those ene­mies. To let passe the Grecian Princes who were alwaies ill af­fected to our Western soldiers, how often haue wee by vnpro­fitable hatred wasted our owne strength against our selues? It were not fit to shame this age with late examples, nor cu­riously to rehearse old calami­ties.

[Page 310] The mortall dissensions of the French and English in those warres, shall bee argument e­nough of griefe and caution.

Richard the first King of England surnamed Cor de-lion, led an Army into Syria, and hauing reuenged the wrongs which Cyprus had done him, hee had driuen the Souldan to extreme feares, who was ad­uising to deliuer vp Ierusalem, and so make peace with the Christians; when loe, Philip King of France, surnamed Au­gustus, returning himselfe from Syria, ill affected to King Rich­ard, marched with his army in­to Normandy, (Normandy was then vnder the crowne of Eng­land) and assaulting his townes, some he tooke by force, others by feare, and faction. So King [Page 311] Richards intent on the pub­like quarrell of Christendome, was called home into Europe to preserue his owne estate; and the Saracens at that time were by meanes of the French, deliuered from the Christian army; who were afterwards beholding to the English for the like benefit. For scarce an age after, when Philip of Valois, King of France, with all the strength of his Kingdome was bent vpon this Pious warre, there came to ioyne with him the Kings of Nauarre, Arra­gon, and Bohemia, and many besides, whom eyther the strength of their kingdomes, or the holynesse of the warre had inuited.

Their Fleete lay at anchor, which carried forty thousand [Page 312] armed men, and victuall for three yeeres; their army to march by land was 300000. men. But this so great pre­paration, and hope of the Chri­stian world, was quite hindered by Edward the third, King of England, who at that time be­gan to lay claime to the crowne of France, as the inheritance of Isabel his mother. So haue we turned our strength against our owne bowels, and vanquished by ourselues, haue giuen tri­umphs to Turkes and Saracens. These are most sad chances, but great is the comfort, that wee haue yet strength enough to de­stroy that barbarous Monar­chy. Nor need all the Christian Princes so, [...] in this; there are many of them that are alone sufficient to gaine this victory. [Page 313] Wee neede no innumerable Ar­my, nor a F [...]eet to ore [...]pread the wide Ocean. A man of singular iudgement and prowesse, and by long experience, well acquain­ted with the Turkish affaires, was not affraid to promise to his King, that if hee would giue him a Fleete, and an Army of thirty thousand, with pay for two yeeres, and victuall for a yeere, hee would reduce vnder his dominion Peloponnesus, [...], & the greater part of Achaia; which vnlesse he performed, he, desired that that Army which was committed to him, should take punishment of him for deceiuing the King, and by [...] most cruell death reuenge the rashnesse of his vaine pro­mise. The same hope of victo­ry there, and scarce with so [Page 314] much charge, not long since was giuen to a great King by a [...] expert Captaine, a man [...]oth for dignity, and blood, worthy of the charge of so great an expedition. But death [...] his great designe, and [...] was, whether by poyson or no. Both these Captaines grounded their hopes vpon the strength and war­like discipline of our souldiers, the number of Christians there, and their prayers imploring our armes to their reliefe; and lastly, the slothfulnesse of the Turkes, who hold by no other title the fame of [...]ortitude, then [...] memory of their ancestours not yet wholy expired. But it was the aduice of those Cap­taines, that this firebrand must be throwne into the ene­mies [Page 315] bosome; and not stand to defend our owne bounds, in which, the greatest reward of victory is, to remooue the enemy from our Countrey, who will afterwards returne more fierce vpon vs But if subdued, our owne bondage and our Countreyes is present; and therefore they would not haue vs stay in Hungary, but mar­ching speedily to encampe our selues in the midst of Greece or in Thrace. This kinde of making warre, many of the an­cients vsed; so Hannibal in Italy conquered for Carthage: and Scipio in Affricke for the Ro­mans; so lastly, the Turks them­selues haue conquered those Nations, whom now they go­uerne, by carrying the warre [Page 316] into their countreyes. Nor did the Franks by a slow remooued war, as it were, at the entrance salute Gallia, nor the Normans Brittaine, a kingdome stronger then themselues▪ but broke into those countreyes, sharing (as it were) before the victory, the reward of victory.

Besides many helpes which wee haue to this warre, our ancestours wanted: They sought out the enemy in the farthest East, then swelling in his first [...] of victory, whom wee may now finde in the bowels of Hungary, and the shores a­gainst Italy, waxing old as it were in a full, and shortly [...]b­bing fortune: which wee may know by this, because hee doth not encrease: And wee are taught by the errours of our [Page 317] ancestours, so that those very things, in which they failed in those expeditions, may bee all cautions to vs or better disci­pline.

Now also the enemy vrges neere vpon vs, that wee may almost consult only in this, whe­ther wee would vanquish or bee vanquished. Young Athmet who is now their tyrant, thinks of warre, and threatens Iran­siluania, either wearyed with his idleness [...], or to gaine esteem among his subiects, he bends his thoughts vpon this expedition; from thence arises a great dan­ger to vs, when military disci­pline, languishing among them, may by these incitements bee raised vp againe, and a Prince hitherto [...]lothfull, and voluptu­ous, fleshed with the tast of [Page 318] victory, may come on more hotly to our ruine.

They say that Charles, the last Duke of Burgundy, spent the first part of his age, not one­ly free from warlike Actions, but in a wonderfull loue of quiet and repose; afterward, when France was fired with that warre, which they called the publike good, his affections were turned so quite contrary, that no part of his life was af­terwards free from military action. God forbid that Achmet should be raised to such resolu­tions. But who in so great a danger, would not thinke it bet­ter to take armes, whilst they haue not yet sh [...]ken off their Lethargy; then to stay [...] they grow expert by vse, and swel­ling with victories, should [Page 319] from the middest of Italy and Germany (which God forbid) aduance their fatall ensignes, to impose a common slauery vpon vs all? But if Achmets owne lusts doe call him backe to his sloth­full idlenesse, not extruded by vs, nor hearing our Armes within his Countries, surely wee shall owe this (almost shamefull) safety not to our owne vertue, but the gift of Fortune.

After the Turkes, let vs come to the Iewes, euen in this re­gard, because they esteeme vs below the Turkes. Wee asked a Iew, Of whom hee had the bet­ter opinion, Christians or Turks? and could not but wonder at the impudence of the sellow: for in the place where hee was, h [...]e durst not speake ill of Christi­ans, [Page 320] yet hee could not hide his minde; but certainly (quoth hee) the Turkes are content to bee circumcised. They are a vagabond au [...] scattered people, Lords of no Prouince; a nation eager and able in getting wealth, [...]renuous in all merchandise, and thriuing by wicked vsury. Wheresoeuer they are, they serue; and their mindes tamed, that were heretofore so fierce in maintaining their liberty, do now stoope by custome to this low condition. They haue euery where mixed their manners, and to their owne disposition, (in which with greatest ob [...]i­ [...]acy they continue) they adde the Genius of the place where they are borne. Th [...]r mindes are obstinate in their owne superstition, and scarce can they [Page 321] how much soeuer they counter­fet) bee truly conuerted to our pi [...]ty.

Their bodies are commonly said to stinke, and that not without reason, [...]or they vse a strange [...]asty carelesnesse both in their houses, and apparell, and some strange, vnusuall vapour exhales from them. In greatest wealth they neuer rise in appe­rell, either fearing our enuy, or louing a pari [...]y among them­selues. This is a great argument of their seruitude, that they are allowed no where to possesse land or armes.

And iustly do wee take away strength from so hostile a peo­ple, who, if they could preuaile, would punish vs [...]ne worse.

[Page 322] Now hauing reckoned vp, and called (as it were) to a cen­sure all those people, whose mindes and manners it behoo­ueth them to know, that must conuerse in publike among men; let vs come to the seuerall kindes of wits and affections; which as they doe not altoge­ther, or of right possesse any one Nation; so, scattred in all Lands, they abide in many men, and are both the seedes and the nourishment of vertue and vice. *⁎*

[Page 2] AS vnder those Climates, which by reason of much cold, and moist ayre use to produce people faire and gray ey'd, yet some notwithstan­ding, as if neere neighbours to the Sunne, are of duskie vi­sages: and in those Regions, which being scorched with the Sunnes violence, set a blacke and thicker tincture on the bloods of their inhabitants, the fairenesse of some men dif­fers from the usuall tawninesse of their Country: So amongst humane people some mindes are rude and r [...]gged, others partake nothing of their coun­tries [Page 3] barbarisme. There are some grosse mindes in a cleare ayre, and some cleare mindes in an obtuse climate: Nor hath any region the in [...]luence of such happy or malignant starres, but that she may finde a patte [...]ne of all vices and ver­tues in her inhabitāts. For Na­ture hath granted, besides the Genius of their native Coun­trey, something proper to e­very man: and by a great my­racle, among so many ages, and names of people, hath sound out for euery man his owne lineaments, that may distinguish the habite of his visage and minde from the likenesse of other mindes and bodies. From hence can no man sooner by contemplation finde out the wonderfull play [Page 4] of nature, varied in the minds and affections of so many men: than a painter in his ta­bles can include the formes and similitudes of all bodies. Yet let it bee lawfull for us to survey, as eminent trees in a thicke Wood, the chiefe kinds of dispositions and affe­ctions, of which men use to be composed, and by them wholly swayed, and notably distinguished from other men.

Nor shall it bee a superflu­ous meditation to recount, and examine so many diffe­rent rankes of men; in which every one may finde himselfe, and see as it were in a seque­stred mirrour, what himselfe would eyther wish or feare to bee. And since no kind of [Page 5] disposition is so neare borde­red upon vice, and leaning to it, but by the raines of pru­dence may be restrained, and kept in the right way: and none so neare a kin to vertue, but by ill usage may bee cor­rupted; it will be good to con­template the affections of men as they are attended with good or ill, and search out how farre they may be hurtfull or availeable; lest we be missed immoderately to praise some; and too unjustly to underva­lue others.

As we recount the disposi­tions of men, those of a sud­daine and extemporary wit shall be our first; those, that as often as they list to speake, can in a suddaine facetious dis­course run through an argu­ment. [Page 6] These men, if they want just weight (as many times it is) as neyther eloquent by study, nor wise in counsell; but then onely O [...]ators or Philosophers while they talk, may bee valued at such a rate as those wares which beeing vaine and uselesse of them­selves, doe by an adulterate varnish cosen the beholder. Of them there are two kinds; some in private and close dis­courses excell with a short and stinging wit, ever intent up­on the follies of other. The other sort comes nearer to the dignity of eloquence, and whensoever they please pub­likely or at home to discourse, their wit is like a torrent, and their memory doth opportu­nately prompt them with all [Page 7] things that they have either seene or read. The bravery of both these sorts is admired not onely by the ignorant, but sometimes by those of better learning: when they see ma­ny jests and sentences with great ease and suddainnesse flow from such men, which themselves not without much paines and study are able to expresse.

For whom can we imagine to come nearer to the image of industry and elegance, than those suddaine wit­ted menne (to beginne with them?) What is more elegant than to finde a pretty sentence for every ar­gument? What more court­ly than to answer all that is done or spoken either with [Page 8] a suddaine jest, or such a wise­dome as being easie and at hand, is pleasing for the quick­nesse of it? If this graceful­nesse bee joyned with a faire personage, and a secure (though not immoderate) boldnesse, it will be praedomi­nant in all societies, and bee pleasing even to those men which are hit by the jests; nay the noyse of it will drown the true and exact wisedome of a blest slow men. But this felicity in speaking is trou­bled with its proper diseases. Take them from priuate com­pany, from suddaine and bro­ken sentences, from bandying of wit, to an argument of lon­ger discourse: then out of doubt thou shalt con [...]emne the barrennesse of their empty [Page 9] mindes, not being furnished for true and lasting wisedome. Nay if those very concise say­ings and fine flashes, which thou admirest in them, were written downe; that they doe not onely come forth by [...] and vanish againe, but be exa­mined by judgement; how idle and foolish would those things seeme, which by a vaine praeiudice, and grace of celerity did before [...]? Therefore in those men there is no deepe and [...]asting riuer of wit, but suddaine flouds of Nature; for as small wa­ters from high springs, straigh­tened in their passage, doe fall with the greater noyse downe: so these sparkes of wisedome, which would presently expire, unlesse they [Page 10] were caught, doe flye with a more vigorous noyse out of the custody of these narrow mindes, which are onely hap­py in such a kind of abortive wisdome.

But the other sort, which are copious in longer elo­quence, and fitted continu­ally with an unexhausted store of words and sentences, are famous men among the peo­ple, when they are heard in publike assemblies, Churches, or pleading. They are plea­sing also in private society, if they bee able to bee some­times silent. But as all living creatures by a secret instiga­tion loue to be doing of that thing, in which they are most able; so these men especially delighted in their owne elo­quence, [Page 11] wherein they excell, can hardly cōtaine themselves within a meane when all oc­casions of discourse [...] are; that you may iustly wonder, that such absurd men should speak so well. When their tedious discourse is done, and they see those men whom their discourse hath wearyed, to looke cheerfully, they doe not consider that the other are onely glad to bee dismissed from the trouble of their tedi­ous talke, but thinke them ravished with a pleasant ad­miration, and goe away re­solved to entertaine them in that manner againe the next time they meet. These large minds, opened by Nature it selfe to the Series almost of all things, are never exact, or [Page 12] thoroughly soaked in know­ledge, but cursorily they taste of all things. And as an Ec­cho can neyther keepe in those last words which it receives, nor dive any farther into the sentence, so these men with a wonderfull ease, and before they are aware (as it were) are guided by Nature to the first glympses of all things and Sciences, but they are scarce able to doe, or (almost) to d [...] ­sire any thing p [...]fectly or exactly in them. I should thinke it a great argument that it is only chance & heat, not iudgment of the mind, which brings from them so great a copiosity of things, and undigested elegancies; since whatsoever they chance to discourse of, they never [Page 13] faile of this pompous plenty of words and sentences. But whensoever their memory, e­ven in the very course of their speech, prompts them with any thing, they presently di­vert to that, and anone to a­nother matter, as it happens; and at last, lost in many sub­iects, they remember not the originall of their dis­course.

They therefore beeing of wandering minds and setled in nothing, are usually una­ble to attaine not onely to the highest Prudence, but even the common discretion of o­ther men. Some of them are immoderate pra [...]sers of themselves; others not helpe­full to their friends nor them­selves in those offices, which [Page 14] diligent and setled industry should be fitted to. They are for the most part unconstant, and as they waver in actions, so they easily fly from those o­pinions, which they seemed strongly addicted to. Yet notwithstanding, as they car­ry a great shew of a polite dis­position, adorned with all kindes of science, in matter of fame and wealth, they of­tentimes possesse the rewards which are due to true wis­dome; especially if they doe understand their owne faults as well as abilities, and know subtilly how to hide, at least from the common peoples eyes, their spots and imper­festions. This especially is attained, if they can governe themselves in talking, and not [Page 15] wāder whither soever their de­sires carry them; and, because by eloquence, as the best con­diment, all things are made gratefull to the eares, let them by a nice deflection fit divers discourses to divers men, and alwayes of that nature as may bee able to goe beyond the hearer; as for example, a­mong Souldiers or men igno­rant of antiquity, let them dis­course of divine points, of the rites of the ancients, of the o­riginall of people and Nati­ons, and whatsoever hath a show of the most gracefull cu­riosity in the sciences; among Schollers which have onely lived in study and contempla­tion, not employment; let them talke of the fates of peo­ple and Rulers, and the Ge­nius [Page 16] of Princes; and lastly contend with no man in his owne Art. Nor is it unple [...] ­sing in the mixing of dis­course, to fall upon those things which are strange and unknowne to the society; e­specially since new things are pleasing, and we conceive [...] ­sually a higher, and more re­verend opinion of that which we doe not know. These O­ratours are in least danger when they converse with men of a low and narrow disposi­tion, who reverence every thing as sacred and miracu­lous, which a bold eloquence puts upon them. Therefore they alwayes take those parts which according to the condi­tions of the hearers, they thinke most advantagious to [Page 17] their fame. Which is there­fore easie to them, because their diffused wits are capable of some instructions in all arts and sciences. Nature, & little use enabling them to speake not improperly in all things; though they cannot bee sayed to bee learned in them, but onely not to be ig­norant of them.

But for such Oratours, to write, is commonly as hard and fatall to their fame, as to speake is easie and gracefull to them. For to that easily fl [...] ­en [...] eloquence the strength of judgment is seldome ioyned, which must continue the stile gracefull to posterity. For their prompt, and almost tur­bulent mind, when in that leysure, which is giuen to [Page 18] Writers, it revolveth it selfe, is overladen with the multi­tude of fancies that meet, and confusedly oppressed with its owne wealth, can neyther write all which it doth invent, nor iudiciously elect the best.

Lastly, the way of writing is so different from that of speaking, and requiring other kind of Nerves, that euen he, who by a strong eloquence could freely run over what he list, in writing doth make but vaine stroakes, and such as men in their dreames at­tempt. Yet blinded and cor­rupted with their owne and others flattery, they doe ma­ny times, by an itch of wri­ting, destroy that same which they had gotten by eloquence. They should doe better for [Page 19] themselves, by farre, to keepe the world in a long expectati­on of their writing; than to publish bookes to the hazard of their fame.

By these cautions, that lively and spreading minde, may conceale his owne weak­nesse from the peoples eyes, and rise in an opinion of wise­dome, whether hee bee able to governe himselfe (which you shall not often see) or will admit counsell, and bee quiet at the perswasion of his friends: as those, that are but halfe drunke doe yet know that they are not sober, nor will they with too stubborne and obstinate a confidence re­fuse the admonitions of their friend [...].

[Page 20] Contrary to these men is a­nother so [...]t, who seeme at the first show as farre from that vertue which is truely in them, as those eloquent men doe from the imperfections, to which they are borne. These men when there is oc­casion to speake suddainely, have a speech tardy and hard to come off. They doe often sticke, and are squibbed with iests and taunts, which like little da [...]s, are in daily dis­course throwne against them by th [...]se suddaine and nimble witted men. Nor doe their words onely come slowly off: but when heir opinion is re­quired, they are to seeke and doe not suddainely find what to de [...]ermine. But when their mind is recollected, and redu­ced [Page 21] into it selfe to meditate, they can [...]ive wi [...]h subtilty e­nough into the depth of af­faires and businesse and con­ceive fit words to expresse their meaning. There is in them a deepe steng [...]h opini­ons true and pro [...]ab [...]e, not a­dulterated w ^th Schoo [...]e-sophi­stry; but most worthy, if they be scholers and vse to write, to be delive [...]ed by themselves to posterity. But in [...]his, for­tune hath [...] till with [...]hem, that since in the first entrance into speech or businesse, they resemble men of a dull and narrow soule, they are often­times by most [...] preiudice neg [...]ected and contemned. Therefore the greatnesse of their minds being sometimes unknowne, doth what the [Page 22] favourable hand of Princes to advance them into employ­men [...]s and honours wor [...]hy of [...]heir industrie, even as [...]he lustre of most precious wares, if they be wrapped up within bese bundle, without a title, can draw no customers at all to it. Therefore for those men it is a most profitable course, to make their way well, that their inward weith of mind may be knowne and those Clouds removed which Nature had placed in the en­trance to it. And this they may attaine unto eyther by writing (for what is [...]ha [...] else but displaying a Table of the Soule) or by dayly exercise to stirre up the edge of their slow wit, that it may bee knowne to bee as great and [Page 23] strong as it is; and last of all by as inward and long a fa­milarity as they can, to ioyne themse [...]ves to those great men, who by that long experience may not onely un­derstand what abilities are in them, but advance them when they know it.

Betweene these inconveni­ent extreames of gravity and levity, is the most worthy disposition, and fit to reach the height of humane digni­ty. They have a moderate eloquence, then shewed, when it is needfull and more perfect i [...] is, when they hare ti [...]e and study: but in their familiar conversation a discourse [...] and cleare, not troubled at all with hae­sitation. A strength of iudg­ment [Page 24] not very much involv'd and slow; but though it be good on the suddaine, yet af­ter delay and consultation it is fa [...]e stronger. This is the man is built for vertues, and made to expresse private and publike wisedome; or if hee give his able mind to vice, the weight of such an extraordi­nary villany, which way soe­ver it leane, doth fall with great danger.

But great mindes from those which are darke and ig­noble, are in this distinguished by nature; that the first knowes his owne dignitie, and does all things freely, with an erected (though mo­dest) spirit, ever contempla­ting somewhat that is emi­nent and full of vigorous ma­jesty: [Page 25] but the close and ob­scure mind condemnes it selfe to bee imprisoned in narrow cogitations and counsels, ne­ver daring to depart from his fearefull humility. In small matters, not exceeding the measure of his mind, hee is exactly diligent; and there is fitted to that disposition a kinde of policy, not noble and high, but such as we see in the least and weakest crea­tures, carefull to keepe their [...]wne.

There are some among learned men, who eyther favouring their owne endow­ments, or deceived with the benefit of learning (which all but the very Barbarians know to be wondrous great) deny that any mind is to bee [Page 26] esteemed great, but that which is capable of letters, or can possibly attaine to just perfections, unlesse it bee a­dorned with them. By this meanes they exclude from the ranke of magnanimity and true humanity, men famous for publike vertues, and borne to governe people, if they be (forsooth) unfit for the sub­tiilty of learning: a great er­rour, or rather madnesse; for they may on the cōtrary more truely affirme, that no man [...] fit for civil affaires but one cō ­ceived in the riches of nature but many vain and superflud [...] witted men in the School [...] have arrived evē to the high [...]est praise, such whose natur [...] confined, as it were, withi [...] the boūd of some one science [...] [Page 27] is dazled at the splēdor of that profitable Prudence, to which all other sciences must give place; unlesse you thinke not him more truly wise that can play the angur among his Citi­zens, & fitly compose the cō ­motions of the people, than him, who by a perpetuall con­templation doth nothing but observe the eclipses of Sun & Moon, the courses of the stars, and vici [...]situdes of the yeare. Those men themselves, who do with such absurd praises extoll the Muses, doe not ac­count that man only absolute, who is adorned with all kinds of science; but count it enough to make him so, if he doe ex­cell in any one kinde of lear­ning; as if an excellent O­ratour bee unfit for contro­verted [Page 28] Philosophy, or if a Philosopher be not capable of eloquence, and altogether ignorant of history and Poe­try, yet they will not exclude him from the number of lear­ned and excellent men. That praise therefore, which any one part of learning may gaine, how dare they detract from that Science, which consists in governing the peo­ple, and is farre more excel­lent than any thing belon­ging to Mankind! Doe they thinke that wisdome speakes to her Schollers onely in Greeke and latine, and not rather by a secret inspiration, containing the worth of all languages? It were a poore thing to be borne of an excel­lent mind, if that excellency [Page 29] lay in nothing but a dispositi­on fitted for Academicall learning. Those, whom we account the first Authors of learning, did not sweat in the Schooles, and yet we thought them borne under good stars. To compose the manners of the people, to strengthen their Countrey with whole­some counsell, to examine forreinerites, and transport those that are good, into their owne land: to observe also the motions of the hea­vens, least the seasons of the yeare, for profitable uses of the people, should not bee knowne: This then was learning, and this our letter'd men doe but onely imitate. For when those ancients did strive to teach humanity and [Page 30] vertue to the rude mindes of the ignorant people, civill Philosophy by that meanes had her originall; when they contended against each other to perswade the people to this or that action, eloquence had then her beginning. Lastly, what doth history, but leave the Prudence and subtil­ties of those ancients to our now learned men, as their suc­cessors, if they be men of acti­on; but if they be of mindes unfit for businesse, then as to registers onely, and enroliers of the ancient vertue. For to reade history onely for con­templation, in a vaine and idle pleasure, which passeth away without fruit: but to imitate the vertue of those praised men, is the true and publike learning.

[Page 31] I will not deny but that is indeed a most absolute ac­complish'd Soule, which is framed both for the Com­monwealth and Learning too. For then these two en­dowments doe by their mu­tuall ayde, advance each other to the skye. His high and active policy doth governe his learning, that it grow not light, nor base: his learning a­gaine doth arme that poli­cy, that it should not onely trust to experience and know­ledge of his owne times, but make use of the skill and la­bours of antiquity.

But if any man, as some­times it happens, fit for pub­like employment, and to ayde his Countrey, have no felicity at all in learning, hee [Page 32] is notwithstanding to bee e­steemed of a higher order and elegance, than hee, which is onely capable of quiet lear­ning, and Schoole subtilties, unfit altogether for civill dis­cipline, which is most usefull. Insomuch, as Favorinus may bee thought, rather Philoso­phically than jestingly, to have measured the knowledge of ADRIAN by the greatnesse of his power. The Emperour Adrian was ambitious of the fame of learning, and lighted by chance upon the Philosopher Favorinus. Hee being provoked in argument by the Emperour, answered sparingly, and as if hee yeel­ded, that the Emperor might freely tryumph. His friends blamed him for yeelding so [Page 33] soone; but hee replyed, that they were deceived; for why (quoth shee) should not I thinke him the most learned, which hath twenty Legions? The Philosopher spake not this without good groūd: for to governe discreetly so ma­ny Legions, was a point of higher science, than to finde out any thing in the Schooles by the strongest and most ex­ercised head in Contempla­tion.

But the splendour of wit, as of all things else, is often spoyled by too great a confi­dence of it selfe. For many conscious to their owne weaknesse, doe endeavour by labour to obtaine that, which nature had denyed to them, and by dayly diligence doe so [Page 34] mould and frame their minds, that at last they exceil those, which were borne happily to great matters; but consi­dering too much the strength of their owne mindes, have abstained from labour, as a thing not neces­sary to them, but altogether superfluous. There is also a great difference even be­wixt those, who by indu­stry endevour to perfect their wits.

For some of them, what­soever they purpose as their study and labour, are busied onely in the maine and highest points of it; but doe not so much as let their thoughts descend to the lower and lesse necessary points. Others are overtaken with a con­trary [Page 35] errour, who fearing to leave any thing behinde them untryed and undiscove­red, doe so strictly search into the least things, and are so desirous perfectly to scanne whatsoever they learne, that they cannot make any great Progresse in their entended Studies, nor ever arrive at the true and liberall knowledge of that thing, whose every part they have so superstiti­ously desired to disco­ver.

Besides, all wits have not the same strength of patience to endure continuall la­bour. For the more sub­till and apprehensive that the minde is; so the more [Page 36] easily it penetrateth into any learning; but is dulled the soo­ner eyther by greatnesse or continuance of labour. For such mindes are not kept in thicke constitutions, but such as are open, and fit to receive aeriall draughts, and pervious for the passage of animall and vitall spirits; who as more subtilly they can display their sharpenesse, so by their thin­nesse they vanish, and are on­ly repayred by idlenesse and recreation. And of such men not onely the labour, but even the recreation is preci­ous, as filling their discharged mindes with a new strength, and for the most part storing their loose and wande [...]ing fancies with high, and seri­ous cogitations. As the feli­city [Page 37] of rich Fields, when they lye untilled, doth sometime of it owne accord plentifully and wantonly produce such Plants, as are not inferiour to the best Gar­den Fruits: So thought COS­MO DE MEDICIS, a suffici­ent Author of Prudence, the Founder of that flourishing Tuscan Monarchie. Hee had taken his rest quietly, and without care as it seemed, till it was late day; when one of his friends comming in by chance, found him as yet betweene sleeping and wa­king▪ And where (quoth he) is that COSMO, to whom wee, as to an ARGVS, have committed our Common-wealth? Hee does not use his eyes so much as in the day [Page 38] time. I have already dispat­ched all my businesse both a­broad and at home. Cos­mo replyes; Doest thou thinke that in diligence thou hast outgone me [...], whose very rest is more active and profitable than thy la­bours?

Yet some notwithstan­ding are exempted from this fate; and, though men of great capacity, can endure continuall labour; few they are, and bestowed by Nature as her dearest guifts upon the publike affaires, who can exercise their deepe and pier­cing wits in lasting diligence, able to undergoe perpetuall employment, and not con­founded with the different face of businesse; so that they [Page 39] seeme to bee borne as a re­leife to humane imbe­cillity, and a preser­vation of Com­mon-wealths. ⸪

MIndes undaunted in dangers, and confident in themselves, are as eminent among the common sort, and exalted above others, at as great a distance, as Beds in Gardens, or hillocks in plaine Fields. But that disposition is at equall distance sea [...]ed be­twixt the confines of good and ill; and of it selfe affor­deth [Page 41] nothing to those, whom it possesses, but a froward heat, to make them excellent in what ever they follow, vertue, or vice. For those men on both sides, by true va­lour, or rashnesse, (two affe­ctions of kin, though much different) are stirred up to the pursuit of vice or vertue. Rashnesse hath almost the [...]ame appearance and counte­nance that valour hath, and doth oftentimes so farre de­ceive, that those, which make themselves the judges of great mens actions, doe (which you would thinke unjust) measure them almost onely by the event. How many Souldiers of the basest ranke, because they have sur­vived the dangers they un­derwent, [Page 42] have attained thē fame of warlike knowledge, and that dignity which ac­crews to it? Others have beene accused of dotage, be­cause upon the same projects, and in the same dangers they have beene ruined. T [...]berius Gracchus by the love of the people and his owne power, was ambitious to bee a Law-maker, & by a combination of the Nobilitie was put to death; the like destiny his Brother Cajus tasted; they therefore, say some, were men of unadvised rashnesse. Cajus Caesar by popularity and boun­ty winning the people, at­tained to the Soveraigne dig­nity; hee therefore was ac­counted a valiant and wise [Page 43] man. King AGIS conten­ding against the Ephori, was strangled at Sparta with a base halter. CLEOMENES boldly by the deaths of the Ephori, did establish the roy­all dignity. What shall wee censure of both their actions? Chance, or vertue? But this instance is an especiall one; ALEXANDER the Great, having quieted Asia, had designed part of his Army to goe, and keepe Europe in o­bedience; and the other part to stay with himselfe, least that any Commotions might arise in the parts of Asia.

The Souldiers not know­ing upon what reason the King divided his forces, do all [Page 44] arise in a fierce mutiny; and casting off obedience, are not at all moved at the presence and speech of Alexander. But he boldly, eyther through wrath, or policy, leapt from his Throne amongst the mad­dest of them, and with his owne hand drew forth to pu­nishment those men, that had most sawcily contradicted him. That Majesty, which could scarce preserve his per­son, while hee sought to ap­pease them, did then guard him in the act of punishing. This action of his by the con­sternation of his relenting Souldiers, was renowned for high vertue: But GALBA the Emperour going boldly amongst his mutineying Sol­diers, was slaine in the midst [Page 45] of the Market place. Shall wee call this valour or rash­nesse? So neare, or almost confused is the reason that mixes this vertue with vice; or, to speake more truely, va­lour is oftentimes forced to take the wayes of rashnesse; and then scarcely can it bee vindicated from the suspici­on of that vice, unles the hap­py successe make it honoured: or hee, that was driven to that dangerous necessity, have by a long aestimation of pru­dence, deserved to have it thought, that hee used not rashly, but by the praescript of judgementt, hose extreame remedies which so nearely trenched upon the vice of rashnesse.

[Page 46] Therefore this affection, when it is wary enough, is corrupted with too fatall a confidence in it selfe; despi­sing all things with too great a scorne, and lyable to the mischiefes of pride: apt to boast, not carefull enough ei­ther to avoyd hatred [...] gaine love, but [...]unning headlong with a mad violence, untill the indulgence of fortune, and successe of rashnesse bee wa­sted, and no longer able to beare him out. But where this affection can keepe a meane, it growes up into most eminent vertue, and [...]ai­ses the courage onely in that case, to value the dangers of life and safety, lesse than the infamy of forsaking their du­ty, or betraying the cause of [Page 47] piety. But if any man with that undaunted courage can joyne meekenesse, and have the power to bridle choller (which commonly waiteth upon the strength of those mindes) hee is then a man of a most excellent and ac­complished societie; and beeing awfull in Peace, shall by his ability procure a re­verent feare, and by his mode­ration a loving respect from all that converse with him.

There is another kinde of adulterine boldnesse, but more safe; which may fall upon spirits of the basest ranke; when they dare to doe things, not with their owne, but others dangers. This, but in name onely, doth [Page 48] almost in nothing agree with that courage which wee de­scribed before; and yet not­withstanding hath not beene enough to raise undeserving men to fame and glory. None are more beholding to this boldnesse, than Generals of Armies and Physitians; one by the danger of their Souldi­ers, the other of their Patients doe attaine fame. And indeed how many, not onely Gene­rals, but even Tribunes and Centurions have not hunted for fame by the bloud of their Souldiers? A hard condition of those common Souldiers, whose praises must be all in­tercepted by one man! Yet the policy of men in that kind is excusable to preserve the [...]enerals, by whose wisdome, [Page 49] more than the strength of the Souldiers, the foes are some­times vanquished; and the Souldiers upon this conditi­on are entertained, that when­soever the Commonwealth needes them, they are to powre forth their Mercenary lives. But Physitians not by APOLLO the Father of AESCULAPIUS, nor all the Muses, together with A­POLLO, can sufficiently bee excused; those, I meane, who hasty in acquiring of wealth and fame, love not their Pa­tients, as the sanctity of their calling, and mutuall affection of humane society doth re­quire: but esteeme them as Sacrifices to their owne glo­ [...], by a villany, which is safe, and therefore the oftner [Page 50] practised. They use untryed and suspicious medicines at the perill of those, whom they come to cure; not con­tent with the sure rules of Art, and praecepts of the anci­ent, but accusing antiquity, as if they would (if they may be trusted) invent a new art under their owne names. If fortune this way doe assist their rashnesse, and the medi­cine given eyther for destru­ctiō or health (for they know not themselves which) doe good eyther by chance, or the strength of nature in the Pati­ent; they straight have gotten among the people a fame of certaine, and almost divine knowledge; and many o­thers by their deaths shall pay for the cure of this one [Page 51] man; while these Physiti­ans doe then sinne more bold­ly and even with the applause of dying men. But this T [...]agi­call boldnesse ariseth not from that disposition of minde, by which couragious men (whether valiant or rash) are carryed upon high un­dertakings. For boldnesse or valour is not to bee ter­rified with a mans owne danger; and to feare in the behalfe of others, is huma­nitie.

Contrary to this confi­dent and undaunted minde is the timorous nature; which as sometimes it is carryed upon honesty, so most commonly it turnes to vice. For if it bee [Page 52] altogether joyned with sloth, as loving security of any na­ture, it then degenerates in­to the basest vices, and is al­together unfit for vertue, or for privat or publike busines. But it is hard, unlesse onely when dangers are at hand, to know such cowards; be­cause that, knowing [...] [...]m­selves this base feare, they strive with diligence to hide the signes of [...], and cunning­ly counterfeit [...]old speeches, challenging (as it were) all dangers, when they see they are farre from them; but in­juries, affronts, and reproa­ches they can put up, as well as feare. They tremble at e­very show of threatning for­tune; nor do they strive to de­cline those evils, which they [Page 53] feare so much, by a valiant and constant endeavour, but by a dejected and ignoble way. They esteeme the ver­tue and force of every man, although untryed, above their owne. They hate all men, and yet admire them with a secret veneration, which is not [...] against their wils, but [...]pleasing to them. But, when they may safely, they are very cruell; eyther to counterfeit courage, or that their base and narrow natures are prone to revenge, or else to prevent their future feare by destroying them that might afterwards threaten them. But their countenances are kind, and much different from their inward cruelty: so that you may thinke them [Page 54] like quicke-sands, covered with still waters, but deepe and devouring in a storme.

But especially, where a Prince is altogether of this timorous nature, his Servants, and Subjects have just cause to suspect that softnesse of minde, which seekes indeed to give content, but is not safe nor happy eyther to himselfe or others. For even those men, that durst insult over the cap­tiv'd disposition of their fear­full Master, doe sadly at the last suffer, in satisfaction of contemned Majesty: and the Prince himselfe, though hee suspect those, whom his in­bred cowardlinesse makes him feare, though hee give them respect more than is fitting: yet he hates those [Page 55] men, and sometimes breakes out against them (letting himselfe loose wholly as it were) with a storme as sud­daine and violeut, as before basely hee had yeilded to them. But to have the Ser­vants and Subjects cowardly, is oftentimes of great mo­ment to secure the Majesty of the Prince. But then he must not governe them with too gentle a hand, least they think he feare them: nor provoke them by too harsh and unsea­sonable commands, as altoge­ther despising them; for a dangerous insurrection may be made, even of the most cowardly men; where every man, in so generall a mutiny, is bold, not trusting to him­selfe, but his fellowes spirits.

[Page 56] But if any man be so borne to a fearefull nature, that yet notwithstanding by prudence and wisedome he can acquire true valour; and where there is need of it, temper his na­turall feares; he is not onely farre from basenesse, but wor­thy of exceeding admiration, that can change a weake pas­sion, and most commonly bad, into true vertue. A notable example of feare, joyned with these strong vertues, in our fathers memory, was a great and renowned Souldier, to whom France in her Warres did owe much. Stout he was of hand, and wise in counsell, yet at the very approach of fight, when the enemies were in sight; filled with a representation of the danger, [Page 57] his Body was so loosened, that he needed a private place to empty himselfe both of his excrements, and his feare; But when hee had recollected his spirits, so skilfull hee was in marshalling his Souldiers, and so couragious in fight, that you would doubt whe­ther he performed better the office of a Chie [...]etaine, or a common Souldier. At the end of his life also, his noble (though calamitous) cou­rage proved to the world that such a pittifull feare may sometimes bee joyned with true valour. For that tragi­call battaile of Pavy, where King FRANCIS was taken Prisoner, and the French lost their hopes of Italy, was made more sad by the death of this [Page 58] noble Captaine. The day before this overthrow, the King called a Councell, and, though himselfe were eager of fight, yet desired his offi­cers to give their advise. This old man did exceedingly per­swade the King to stay for supplyes, which were alrea­dy leavyed, and neare at hand: desiring him not to throw in­to hazard (especially at a time unnecessary, and in a forreine land) the estate and welfare of France: that their consul­tation was not onely for the Kings honour but his safety. There was in the Councell a hot young man, who, of a turbulent spirit, was fitter to begin than continue a fight. He alledged, that nothing was more honourable than that [Page 59] the victory (of which hee doubted not) should bee gai­ned by fight; that the ene­mies would receive too much honour if they should bee fea­red by so great a King, and so cheerefull an Army; that the Kings name had already frigh­ted them, and the French horse would at the first onset tread them under foote; hee taunting besides this old Cap­taine, said, it was no marvaile though an old man, and fear­full, sought delayes, whose minde was shaken with his usuall feares, and now was see­king a passage through his guts. The old man could not endure the scurrility of so im­modest a jest; but I (qd. he) se­ing the K. will have us fight, wildy to morrow ā honorable [Page 60] death before his face; when thou forgetfull of thy brags and rashnesse, shalt by abase [...]light forsake that battaile, which now thou hastenest on. This sad Prophesie they both fulfilled; for the young man fled basely from the bat­taile; and the other, through noble wounds in the Kings sight, powred out that life, which hee before had pro­mised.

This wary and modest feare may not onely bee joy­ned to Prudence, but is some­times a great part of it, and very profitable in those men, for whose too too forward and rash spirits the Common wealth might smart. But those men that by this just and wholsome Art can go­verne [Page 61] their owne mindes fra­med to fearefulnesse, are usu­ally adorned with a most milde humanity, and full of curtesie; and pious modesty will injure no man; reve­rencing as it were, even in the basest and poorest men, the communion of mindes and mortality. They are by this inbred feare, more trouble­some to themselves than o­thers. For secretly within themselves they labour by manly precepts to compose their sicke mindes distracted with terrours against their wils; but openly they neither thinke it seemely to confesse their timorousnesse, neyther through the impulsions of their unquiet feares doe they love to manage any thing ey­ther [Page 62] of their owne, or com­mitted by their friends.

The proud and sordid minds are different from the bold and fearfull; but borne as it were, upon the borders of them. Pride the tinder of worst dispositions, breaketh forth divers wayes in mani­fold and heynous vices, ob­noxious to all the tortures of hatred, love, and chiefly en­vy. Perpetuall and trouble­some are the vexations of those men, which doe not so much strive to gaine praise, as thinke it is already due to them. They easily suspect themselves to be neglected, & revenge in themselves with most bitter griefe, this scorne­fulnesse (as they account it) of other men. They know not [Page 63] their owne vices, nor the ver­tues of others. And when men are of this h [...]mor, faith, piety, and whatsoever is sacred a­mong men, they value below their fame & thirst of honors. And how much soever suc­ceed, nothing breeds their qui­et, but carries them upon new, & more distracting hopes: but there is no greater affliction than when Pride fals upon a man of a fearfull & effeminate mind. Shamefastnesse and feare do then restraine his mad de­sires: and he in the meane time with a concealed swelling pu­nishes himselfe. But this dis­position is unfit for friendship and every where unpleasing; unlesse sometimes when pride by the dull and fearfull minds of the common people, is ado­red for magnanimity. But [Page 64] But mindes that are base, and of a sordid lownesse, as they take no care for high at­chievements, so they account nothing unworthy to obtaine their Lusts. They eyther sleepe in lazy Idlenesse, and the Le­thargy of pleasures; or else gape after wealth with an af­flicting desire, that cannot use it when they have it. With such commotions are these abject mindes usually trou­bled. If for a time they bee raised with high projects, and seeme to follow reason, yet straight they are benummed by their naturall sottishnesse, and wallow in their former basenesse. Those that are sunke in this disposition, are not borne to beare rule: nor yet are they very fit for obe­dience; [Page 65] for they repine at o­ther mens vertues, which they indeed doe neyther love nor conceive; and therefore seeke for a kind of freedome, in which quietly, and without the checke of any man, they may enjoy their owne base and narrow affections.

But we doe sometimes fa­vour vices, and give them the names of those vertues which are are neare to them. So rashnesse is honoured for fortitude, and pride adorned with the name of an erected manly nature; and this base dejected humility puts on the colours of humanity, and that simplicity, which is taught by true Philosophy. But we commonly censure no dispo­sitions more unjustly, than [Page 66] those that are open, and apt to doe things like rashnesse. For upon such men, as if they forsooke modesty, the brand of levity is stucke: and on the contrary, dull and close minds doe among the people carry an image of wisedome; wee censure them both amisse, but not without some shew of reason. But open and ac­tive wits are neyther fit for secret malice nor deceit, nor for the most part filled with that malapartnesse, and other vices, which they may seeme to make shew of. For in such men a desire of suddaine speaking, and harmelesse je­sting is more praedominant, than any malicious intent. They scarce brooke idlenesse, still seriously intent upon [Page 67] some action, whether great or small; so that this kind of dili­gence doth usually shake off those sordid qualities, which commonly grow upō slothfull minds. They cānot spare their jests, though against a friend; but the present delight more than any mans wrong, is [...]ought by them. They are gentle, not onely in admitting friendship, but continuing it; and are not hotly led by that pleasure, which flatters most men (as new) in the beginn­ning of society or businesse. Whatsoever they take in hād, if they do not exactly perfect it, yet somewhat and that pleasing, out of their own Ge­nius, they will bestow upon it; especially since what they do, is not wrought with anxious [Page 68] labour, but excels in the grace of facility; as if brought by natures owne accord to its proper decorum. And if in Learning they write any thing, they offend not the Reader with an opinion of too much paines; for the rea­ders doe almost seeme to par­take of the labour with those Authors, who are knowne not without much watching and trouble, to force in their sentences and words.

Contrary to these disposi­tions, which are not at all dis­guised, but alwayes (unlesse it very much availe them to con­ceale) by an ingenuous con­fession betray their actions, are those natures, which by a ponderous secrecy, like to wisedome, doe hide their in­tentions [Page 69] and desires. To these men many without further tryall doe allow the name of vertue and industry. For it is a great shew of wisedome to speake sparingly, and by prae­script; to bend the brow at every mention of vice; and to affront or injure no man, at least openly or of set ma­lice. And lastly, what can come nearer to the image of an ample Soule, than to seeme by a deepe and continuall commerce to talke with wis­dome? For so would you thinke those men composed, which are given to the fore­named quiet and solitude. But this slow and grave tranqui­litie has many lurking holes, into which it receives vices also, whose very names hee [Page 70] cannot heare publikely with­out the signes of shame and horrour (for they have ten­der foreheads, and not reser­ved like their mindes.) That silent and imprisoned Army of cogitations cannot alwayes be intent on the studies of in­dustry and true vertue. For as the heats and desires of all men decline from labour to the sweetnesse of pleasure, so especially theires doe, as be­ing of a more soft and effaemi­nate nature. Hence comes it that this often and id [...]e [...]oli­tude represents uuto their mindes all manner of plea­sures and of vices: in which filthy contemplation they therefore more securely rest, because there they can f [...]eely be conscious onely to them­selves, [Page 71] and openly, with pie­ty, not very laborious, yet e­nough to gaine ths credulity of others, adore vertue. But yet doe not thinke that they are alwayes intent in the spe­culation eyther of wisedome or vices; for, for the most part, those slow mindes doe therefore sticke, because they finde not fit matter of dis­course; and in the meane time by their countenances, their silence, or (if thou wilt) weightinesse (which as the gravest of men, so the dullest of Cattell doe expresse) they gaine the estimation of inte­grity and industry.

There is another kind of dis­position which containes in it almost al these how differēt so [Page 72] ever, with a wonderfull, but not laudable variety. Yet a brave disposition it were, if nature had allowed it a bridle as well as spurres. And that is of men that run into the ex­treames of whatsoever their affections leade them to. If they would bee Religious, presently as if it were not lawfull to interpose any re­creations among those ho­ly duties, they put on a mor­tified face, brooking no re­mission, and a looke of such holinesse as cannot last. They are proud Censurers of other mens lives, and measure all mens honesty, by their owne suddaine severity. Then they shake off the pleasure of their old friendships, and cannot brooke innocent mirth, [Page 73] which wise men mingle with their cares, as an helpe eyther to forget them or overcome them. Anone, when the strength of their mindes is broken by too much intenti­on, when they begin to bee weary of this rigid piety, which they so unadvisedly followed; not by degrees, and ordinary turning tides (as it we [...]e,) but like a torrent tur­ [...]ing [...], they run againe [...] themselves as immede­ [...]ately, as before they had for­saken thē foolishly; [...] the very name [...] with all manner of jests [...] the Professors of that [...] piety, which themselves [...] lately left. While they [Page 74] are thus busied; behold, reli­gion comes upon them a­gaine, and with a sad repen­tance drives away that wan­tonnesse,; untill they begin a­gaine to repent themselves of that repentance. Nor are these frequent and immoderate changes onely in their religi­on; but in all things else they erre with the same heat. From most entire love they are carryed (as it were with a whirlewind) into extremi­ty of hatred; sometimes im­moderate in labour: some­times nerve-lesse in sloth; so in their loves or lusts, and whatsoever else can stir [...]e up cōtrary motions in the minds of men. Nor can they go­verne their speech and si­lence; if they be taken with a [Page 75] heat of speaking what cōpany soever they come into, them­selves have all the talke, and are onely heard; By and by when that mirth forsakes thē, which made their minds so [...] with talke, they sit in a sad silence, and as if collected into a discourse within them­selves; so fixe their eyes, that they scarce know those that are present, nor heare when they are asked questions; an aequall offence on both sides to the sweetnesse of humane so­ciety, whereto speake oppor­tunely, & to be silent onely by [...], is a lowed by māners.

But the cause of [...] great an [...] in those men, is an inward kinde of sweetnesse; by which they suffer them­selves wholly [...] [Page 76] and as that guides them, they avoyd or follow. That moti­on, upon what matter soever it carry them, how full soe­ver of cares and labour, yet presents it first to their minds in a most pleasing shape; and overcomming their mindes with a sweet and pleasing vio­lence, carries them away, and forces them to beleeve it in all things. But when that show [...] vanished, and that [...] and fugitive sweet­nesse [...] another way, they straight follow it. For they are not onely impatient [...] our, but of pleasure it selfe, as soone as that inward [...] temptation is gone. [...] this is a signe of a weake [...] impotent judgment: a minde formed for vertues, but [Page 77] tis onely for the beginnings of vertues: not stale eyther in [...]aith, or friendship; but e­very where so unlike to it selfe that it is distastfull. It [...] neither command it selfe, nor deny any thing. But it is a sad fate, and ill for the people, when men of this unhappy disposition, exempted from the lawes of feare or modesty are borne to a Soveraigne dig­nity.

BVt in reckoning up all the affections of Mankinde, it were against reason and hu­manity to forget Love, which reigning in all breasts (except they bee altogether barba­rous) claimeth notwithstan­ding a more neare jurisdiction over some, and filleth them more with his cares. Love is a sweet and restlesse desire to be liked by them, who eyther by chance, or by their owne [Page 79] vertue, o [...] by our errour are liked by us; and so creep [...]s upon us from those ambushes, as it were, that wee sooner perceive our selves to bee in love, than we thinke upon the way of loving. It were not hard in the beginning to shake off this load, if it did not by degrees and sweetly assault, so ensnaring those whom it catches, especially unexperienced men, that they suppose it were inhu­mane, barbarous, and incon­venient to themselves to shake off by a rough severity the sweetnes of this flattering mischief. But there is nothing more excellent among men, than this affection, if it bee rightly governed. For it sets a certain curious glosse upō all [Page 80] vertues, and sometimes excu­ses even vice it selfe. Vn­justly doe severe men accuse Love, and paint him in a l [...]ose and feeble figure: when there is nothing more sincere amongst Mankinde, provided that hee burne i [...] just limits, and those raised by vertue, and fire not with an unlawfull flame where he is forbidden. [...] is this sweet desire sti [...] ­red up onely in young men, and in men of middle age; but boyes also in their harmelesse yeares, that you may know that this flame is rather borne in worthy breasts, than lights by chance upon them. And [...] boyes and youths are lesse [...] to governe them­selve [...], [...] their [...], although superfluous: [Page 81] therefore love in them breeds a greater and more anxious care. And from hence their minds are raised to atchieve­ments that are high, and a­bove their age; as if by that experiment they would proove to themselves, that they are worthy to bee belo­ved. A young youth that went to Schoole, was by his care­full Schoolemasters often ad­monished to learne his book; but the booke was hatefull to him, that loved play and li­berty. A noble Lady by chance came to that Towne, where he lived, with two of her daughters that were Virgins▪ and because there was ac­quaintance betweene the tw [...] families, this youth [...] brought by way of visitation [Page 82] to the Ladies lodging. Hee began immediately to admire one of the young Gentlewo­men, then to hold discourse with her, and in conclusion, e­ven the same day, to fall ex­treamely in love with her. Then first his simple and free minde began to be enthralled with cares. The next day he goes again to the place, where he received his unfelt wound, and by prolonged discourses, so fed his malady, that hee grew worse and worse. For on the third day the Ladie with all her company going out of Towne, left this youth scarce a living [...]oule. And he, poore wretch (obbed even of that ease) was forced to con­ceale his flame for feare of being chid by his Father, or [Page 83] mocked by his fellowes. After long consultation within himselfe, he judged no course better for him, than wholly to apply himselfe to his booke; for so he thought he might gaine his Father, and in recompence of so great a diligence in study obtaine from him a time of recreati­on. And as a reward of his labour, he had resolved to get leave of his Father, to goe to a faire City not fa [...]re from thence; and that was it in which the Mayd dwelt. His Schoolemasters and fellowes began to admire his excee­ding diligence; and often de­mand from whence so great a change of mind should pro­ceed, and love to learning in that youth, who not long be­fore [Page 84] disdained the very name of it. For in the morning he would rise to his booke be­fore his fellowes, and was of­ten bid, before he would goe to play. The heat of his love, which caused this diligence, did make both his labour so easie to him, and the Muses so sweet, that, before he was aware, he was taken with a love of them. Afterward (as in that age it often happens) when long absence had made him forget the young Gentle­woman and his hot love, an eager desire of learning did still remaine in him. And he following the liberall study, came to so [...]igh a proficiency in learning, that all the Mu­ses are much indebted to him.

[Page 85] But Love a stubborne ma­lady, and not to be cured with that facility, that other affe­ctions are, unlesse it be stran­gled in the first motion, is hardly removed by any means but length of time; that so wearied it may expire. For while he is in his course, hee findes somewhat alwayes to encrease, and advance the power he holds. For if the Lover through all his griefes and melancholly thoughts have but arrived at some suc­cesse; he would thinke him­selfe too cruell to himselfe, to banish utterly so sweet a delight from him. But if a more cruell fortune doe either too long differ his hopes, or altogether take them away; then also his g [...]iefe pleases [Page 86] him, and the minde pitty­ing it selfe, and with sighs re­volving the cause of his cala­mity, melts in the pleasure of so delicate a sadnesse. But that Love which is hid, is most lasting; eyther where both the parties are secretly agreed; the very sweetnesse of the secrecy doth then please them; or where the Love is not mutuall, and one onely suffers, who with se­crecy endures his wound. Nor doth the violence of this af­fection grow onely betweene the different sexes; for SO­CRATES loved ALCIBIA­DES, and LYCURGUS thought it no ill discipline to ordaine that every youth should have his lover. The chastity of nature leading men to just [Page 87] and brave Loves, lookes not at all at that difference; and you shall see many of the most honest men tormented with a care (or to call it right) a love of some young men. And this love is a certaine tye of benevolence, more hot and violent than to bee called friendship. We have then a perpetual desire of instru­cting them; continuall wi­shes for their safety and Glo­ry; feare for the successe of whatsoever they doe; and thinke alwayes that fortune, how lavish soever she bee in her favours towards them, doth not recompence their deserts. That also is a fierce and restlesse desire, which strives for unchaste ends to win a beauty of the different [Page 88] sexe. But yet thinke not but that examples of most pure chastity may continue be­tweene different sexes; al­though the thing so full of danger, doe oftentimes de­ceive them; and they them­selves by little and little (ere they bee aware, or against their wils) doe loue other­wise thē they eyther thought or wish'd to doe.

But the minde of that man, whom Nature moulded for a lover, is milde, expressing in the very countenance mode­sty, and simple vertue; of a great but mercifull spirit; not had to be ent [...]cated to spare supplyants and contemne re­venge; exceeding paenitent when he himselfe offends; a great lover of offices of hu­manity, [Page 89] impatient of idlenesse and all occasions of sloth, un­lesse forgetting the great be­nefits which he hath received from Nature, he corrupt the felicitie of his disposition with lascivious wantoning, and so idlenesse.

It were a vaine thing to desire to run over the whole variety of [...] humane dispositions [...] which wee haue heare not downe, are as the chiefe Springs, from whence [...] flow eyther to vice or vertue; that by the knowledge of them you may understand what men may be governed who are fit for friendship and so­ciety, who are to bee feared, and who for their sloth or [...]. to be regarded. For [Page 90] honesty & knavery, dispositi­ons of true or adulterate wise­dome, free and narrow minds, and whatsoever is eminent in publike and private affaires, is by this fortune of affections distributed to Mankind. From this contemplation of mindes vertues and vices shall justly be rewarded: for unlesse we curiously looke into these se­crecies of nature, a turbulent disposition will often make it selfe appeare a valiant and vi­gorous spirit: a dull or vaine minde will challenge the esti­mation due to gravity or true eloquence: and on the other side, vertue will lye unknown, & at the first sight by the opi­nion or shew of some vice, be unjustly depressed below that honor which is due to it.

[Page 91] But a disposition, which is much reserved and hid, cannot be discovered without a long and prudent search. Therefore th [...]se, who by the first appea­rance censure the manners & dispositions of men, do entan­gle themselves in most fearful errors. For certainly, as in the art of fēcing nothing is more dangerous th [...]n to fight with him that is squint-ey'd (for you can scarce conjecture at what place he aimes his stroke his eyes seeming to turne the contrary way.) so he that will deale with those men, who ei­ther by art, or the benefit of countenance cā hide their dis­positions, must long & strictly deliberate within hīself what opiniō to hold of thē; lest if he esteem too cruelly or favorably [Page 92] of them, he himselfe doe first rue the rashnesse of his opi­nion. The face especially doth often deceive unexperi­enced men.

How many of a fierce and formidable countenance have beene unjustly avoyded, as e­nemies to humanity, whom as soone as ever thou copest withall, the le [...]ity, and sweet­nese [...] conversation, will [...] opinion quite [...] by the [...], and [...] of [...] custome have beene brought to it; and under this disguise retaine a disposition most milde, [...], and shaped to [Page 93] all the lawes of humanity. There are those on the con­trary, in whom, besides a per­son adulte [...]tely formed to the show of vertue, thou ca [...]st finde nothing to be be­loved. Some times a counte­nance betokening quiet leni­ty doth hide a wrathful and tragicke disposition [...] ▪ some­times vigorous eyes have a Soule quite contrary; last of all, vices doe ly, as it were in ambush, under a slight see­ming-tincture of those ver­tues, from which they most degenerate.

This great and trouble­some knowledge of mindes cannot altogether [...]e desired by praeccept, nor other [...] re­quired, than by the [...] of that [...] [Page 94] improoved himselfe in this art, not onely by his pru­dence, but his frequent er­rours.

But especially take heed that by one [...] or vice you doe not in generall consu [...]e the whole [...] and di [...]posi­tion of a man. [...] many are borne with so happy a to­wardlinese to one kinde of di [...]cipline, that [...] as they are conversant in that, no to­kens of prudence and indu­stry are wanting in them: but in other things they are so foolish and [...]surd, that they scarce seeme of a [...] mind; others have one particular ble­mish in [...], that being wondrous discreet [...] in their whole life, they seeme to deare [...] in one pa [...]tor [Page 95] one study. Nay you must not judge, by the sweetnesse and elegance of their society, and conversation it selfe, of their wit and wisedome. For of­tentimes in daily conversation men of a narrow minde are lesse offensive than those whom the greatnesse of a cheerfull nature hath made more carelesse; whilest they being di [...]ident doe fear [...]u [...]ly set a watch upon themselves; or perpetually study (as being not capable of greater mat­ters) how to frame them­selves to a fashionable beha­viour: but the other of a m [...]re capacious nature, doe either neglect such vu [...]gar things, or else carelesly admit some vi­ces as attendants upon their vertues.

[Page 96] But it is not enough to find out this diversity of hu­man mindes, as nature onely hath stamped it. There is a­nother thing beside, that may eyther perfect or change a disposition: namely their e­state of life; either that wret­ched condition or high dignity, to which every man eyther by chance or his owne vertue arriveth. How may, that were borne to a right and milde disposition, have by the fault of too much felicity cor­rupted their natures? How many high and vigorous mindes, which, if fortune had suffered, had growne to be examples of all vertue, op­p [...]essed by lasting poverty, and c [...]uelty of fortune, have [...] forgotten their owne [Page 97] worth, and degenerated into affections quite contrary? Athenion in his behaviour a publike example of honesty, as long as in the Vniversity with thinne dyet and meane cloathing, hee declaimed for Vertue; having once gotten the Soveraigne power, did straight, together with his poore cloathes, put off his Philosophy. Abdolominus ha­ving long beene used with his own hands to g [...]t a living by dressing the Garden, when hee was elected to the King­dome of Sidonia, wished that he might beare his royall for­tune with the same modesty and moderation that hee had borne his poverty. Now therefore let us consider also those affections, which by the [Page 98] condition of Fortune, or man­ner of life are added to men; and oftentimes doe kill those manners, which the simplici­ty of Nature oppressed by no calamities, or inti­ced by no tempta­tions, had bred in them.

THose people, who sub­ject themselves to no Scepter, though they abhorre the name of servitude, yet doe not enjoy true liberty. For they must needs elect Magi­strates, to whom they give iu­risdiction over themselves; and the publike power, which they glory to be in the whole [Page 100] Nations, is adored in a few men; so that in those Coun­tries, where you would think all did reigne, the greatest part are Servants; a secret law of things dispensing so the frame and order of the world, that by the nerves of one head (according to the rule of the Deity) many mem­bers should bee governed. This spirit of Government, which loves to reside in a few doth more plainely shew it selfe in the Aristocracy, but most of all in a Monarchy, where all the power is in one. But that height of power, to which GOD by a secret in­stinct has subjected Men, was not ordained for their sakes, which possesse the dignity, but those that are subject to it. [Page 101] Therefore when Kings have abused their dignity accor­ding as their pleasures and ambition swayed them; or the peoples ignorance hath not understood their owne cōmodity, the name of Kings hath oftentimes grown hate­full, and Monarchy with much blood and slaughter hath been banished out of many Coun­tries, and againe restored.

All those Common-wealths that flourished heretofore, had Kings at the first. But they being expelled by those that understood not true liberty, eyther the blind popular go­vernement succeeded them, or else the rule of the Nobili­ty; that is, many Kings in stead of one. And as a mem­ber, which by violence is put [Page 102] out of joynt, cannot be put in­to joynt but by violence a­gaine; so those Provinces, which by this meanes had cast off the best forme of go­vernment, could not againe, untill they had cruelly payed for that errour, bee restored, & reduced to their first right estate. For in those Cōmon-wealths, some cittizens swel­ling with ambition, had ey­ther by armes made their names great, or by the peo­ples error engrossed too great and too little offices; or else had seized into their owne hands the strength of the Common-wealth, and called themselves Kings. But they growing fierce (as it must needs bee in a new and hated State) did so pollute their [Page 103] reignes, which they by trea­son had gotten, that the peo­ple for their sakes thought worse of Kings than ever they had done, and the name Tyrant, which was once an honour to all Monarchs, be­came a word of hatred, and publike infamie.

But hee, that will consider those affections, which Kings by the greatnesse of their dig­nity doe nourish in them, must not esteeme alike the state of all Kings. Those dif­ferent wayes that bring them to their height, doe cause dif­ferent mindes in them: and those that reigne in a new-setled Monarchy, doe carry themselves in another man­ner than those who safely, and by the peoples wishes [Page 104] reigne over a Nation long ac­customed to that governe­ment. And different also are the minds of a King crowned by Election (as in Hungary, Denmarke, and the Roman Empire) and such a King as reigneth by inheritance, and possesseth that state which his Father, and Grandsires held before him. New kingdoms not well established by time nor the constancy of the peo­ple, doe fill their Princes with continuall suspicions. They flatter the meanest subjects, and feare the Nobility, espe­cially whilest they thinke themselves are feared; and daily consider with them­selves that their estate, not yet setled, may by the motion of fortune as easily be over­throwne [Page 105] as it was raised. Nor are tyrants onely, that came unjustly to their crownes, dis­quieted with these thoughts: but those also, who are law­fully chosen over such Nati­ons as have not beene accu­stomed to the name and au­thority of a King. But this feare is greater in Tyrants. For if they have subjected a Common-wealth, they feare the Nobility, as men that will vindicate their lost liber­ty, and loath to serve him who lately was their equall: Or if they have invaded a Monar­chy, and expelled the true heyres; with a continuall care and vexation they suspect and feare the peoples hearts, as inclining to their ancient Lords. Therefore they dare [Page 106] not trust their friends, be­cause being privy to their counsels, they know also the means which way their King­domes may be undermined; and expect fidelity from no man, since themselves have violated it. But in open show, and with a garbe put on of set purpose, they seeke occasions of doing curtesies, and ambi­tiously affect the fame of in­tegrity, and loue to their Countrey. They are excee­dingly liberall to the poore; great punishers of those vices, of which themselves gave ex­ample, and lastly eyther Au­thors or restorers of the best Lawes, and publike buildings for ornament of the Citty; to decline by those meanes the present envy, and infamy of [Page 107] posterity.

In this manner a Tyrant is eyther bad by the fault of his condition, not his dispositi­on, or else is good by neces­sity. His minde is wonderful­ly austere, his countenance wilde, his thoughts ready up­pon all occasions, especially those occasions which he feares; true pleasure he doth not know, but is led with a hope of it; and with vaine pompe sweetning his inward cruell cares, he doth as it were cousen his owne minde. But a lawfull King eyther by ele­ction or inheritance, confident in the right of his royalty, doth not so descend to base feares, or wicked preventi­ons; although perchance hee fall upon turbulent times, [Page 108] mad Subjects, and whatsoe­ver else a Tyrant feareth. But those Princes, which owe their fortune to election, whose royalty continues not in their family, being as it were, private men in one re­spect, namely as they consi­der their posterity, doe sel­dome with their whole care and endeavour so much pro­cure the publike good, as those Princes which receiving the Kingdome from their Ance­stours, strive to adorne it for their owne Posterity. There­fore those cares which are due to the publicke, they be­stow upon their domesticke affaires, in a piety which may be excused, if they can fitly divide their thoughts, and looke both wayes, so to re­member [Page 109] their family, that they forget not their publike charge. But if by chance they hope or desire top referre any of their owne bloud to the succession, then by re­wards and curtesie the peo­ples suff [...]ages must be bought; Force must be omitted, and Majest [...] it selfe layed aside. So by a [...] hidden and trouble­some care his minde is a Servant even to those men, by whom in publike hee is served and adored. In such cares oftentimes for their private family, is the indu­stry of those men taken up, who for their Heroicall vertues, did before seeme worthy to weare a Crowne.

Many times they de­cline to the worse part, [Page 110] corrupting their manners, ex­ercising with revenge their ancient hatreds and aemulati­ons: when not forgetting who were before at dissention with them, or who were crosse in voyces to their ele­ction; their new power, not yet able to governe and con­taine it selfe, doth swell one­ly with desire of revenge.

But if they be troubled with none of these mischiefs, yet for the most part they are ambitious to doe strange and wonderfull things, and by thē to renowne themselves and their times to Posterity. These high desire [...] may aswell be in­convenient as profitable to the Common-wealth. For as in Apples and Berries too early and forced ripenesse is [Page 111] onely pleasant because of the novelty of it; but the Trees themselves by such forced ma­nuring, and unseasonable heats, after this fruit is brought forth, doe presently decay: so in publike affaires, especially the greatest, acer­taine order is to be observed; and those who pervert or praecipitate those affaires, doe seeme as it were to kill the Commonwealth. Yet not­withstanding elected Kings, almost in all ages, burning with desire of a lasting fame, have eyther raised Warres a­broad, or sought to innovate something in their owne Realmes; to gaine a name by their owne boldnesse and the danger of their men; and per­chance valuing it at that rate. [Page 112] Few of them with Stephanus Ba [...]tor [...]us the King of Poland doe measure their actions not by their owne profit but the welfare of their coūtry. There is a saying of his extant, wor­thy to expresse the bravery of his disposition; I will make the world (quoth he) under­stand how much a King cho­sen for vertue by the consent of a Nation, is better than he, whom right of succession thrusts upon the shoulders of unwilling people.

But those Kings to whom most truly this name of Maje­sty belongs, who leave to their children that perpetuated ho­nor which they received frō their ancestors, & now owing nothing to the peoples voy­ces, from whom a [...] came at the [Page 113] first, may seeme born to reigne with another Ge [...]t [...]. But to search out this disposition of theirs, that oweth it selfe only to God, may perchance be too sacrilegious a wisedome. Nor is it lawfull for us to pry into those affections, which the power of heavē hath inspired into thē for governing o [...] the world, for alteration of states, & managing the fates of Man­kinde. Some that are cu [...]ious may perchance enquire whe­ther it were better for Kings to begin their reignes in their childhoood, so accustomed to that greatnesse, as a thing borne with them, than to grow up under the reigne of their Fathers or kinsmen, and afterward receive their great inheritance; whether a quiet [Page 114] and obedient people doe sof­ten and spoyle a Princes dispo­sition, while his power has a free swindge; or rather that love of the Subjects doe not endeare the Prince his affecti­ons to them, as the master of a family to dutifull Servants. Lastly, if a lawfull Prince, by the peoples ill affection to­ward him, be forced to fight for his owne right, whether after the victory he will reign cruelly, showing an hatred and contempt of them; or ra­ther strive to appease them by a mutual respect, as remem­bring the past dangers to bee such, as may returne more heavily upon him. Arguments and examples are not wanting on both sides, (which in the changes of humane affaires,) [Page 115] although proceeding from the same causes, have not al­wayes found the same e­vents.

But it is in vaine to search into these decrees of heaven; let the Kingly height not bee touched with curious cogita­tions, but pryed into onely with adoration, as the secret mysteries of religion were: for it is piety to wish for good Princes, but to condemne bad ones is unlawfull. And seeing moreover that they doe not so much governe themselves, as give way to the fates lea­ding (who by their affections doe ordaine the declinations and growth of States) all art and wisedome, that lookes into their Genius, and conje­ctures of it, is oft deceived.

[Page 146] The first step from this great height is the condition of Noblemen. Eyther thoser whom Kings chuse for Coun­sellours, to share with them the cares of the Common-wealth; or those who by a great and entire ty of love are endeared to their Kings. Through both these, as through the mouths of rivers which discharge themselves into a great Sea, are the desires and hopes of the people ca [...]ri­ed. But they, as being advan­ced for different respects, have different wayes and dis­positions. Those therefore who by their flower of age, or high birth, or sweetnesse of behaviour, are highly endea­red in Princes Favours, have for the most part mindes bent [Page 117] to please; w ^ch although deny'd to their owne affections, they square according to the dispo­sition of their Lord. This is in­deed a wonderfull kind of ser­vitude, and full of subtill art; hiding sometimes a base and abject minde, sometimes a free and bold di [...]position. Some­times to follow pleasure, to sport or jest well, is as usefull to them as the greatest la­bour; Nay even to exercise a kinde of state over their Princes, and almost reigne (but not too long and wan­tonly) doth more kindle the Princes affections to them, who desire as well to be belo­ved, as to love. For Lords that are advanced to that slippery height of favour, if they know their Prince to be [Page 118] of a soft nature, not brooking enough a continuall use of the same pleasures, must sparing­ly bestow their pleasing lookes, or jests, or whatsoe­ver in them is delightfull to him; dispensing them in so prudent a manner, that affecti­on stirred up often and by in­termissions, may neither breed a loathing, nor by neglect and oblivion be blotted out. But if the Prince be easie and apt to change often his affections and Favorites, but wheresoe­ver he apply him elfe, his love as it is short, so is it blind and vehement; The Favorites remēbring that they are now in a high tide, but shall short­ly returne to their owne Sea, doe make most greedy use of their felicity. For they are [Page 119] not afraid by importune suites to weary this affection of the Prince, which unlesse it bee timely taken and made use of, like wines, which last not, it decayes and perishes of it selfe.

But [...]arre different wayes are to be taken with those Princes, who lose not them­selves in a torrent of affecti­on, but to that sweetnesse of nature, which makes them love, doe joyne reason also. For this affection, being true indeed, and perpetuall (if they deserve it) as it can never do all things, so has alwayes po­wer to doe something. Nor must you rob altogether that tree, but gather with choyse the fruit of it, which will grow againe for you. There [Page 120] fore the Favourites of such Princes, doe wholly [...]apply themselves to them; and ne­ver forgetting their Majesty, doe alwayes in their love give due observance, modestly use their freedome of speaking or advising, and ofter consider that they are Princes, than that themselves are Favorites. Those Favorites as it is their first care, to hold up them­selves in that height of grace, so alwayes make it their se­cond endeavour to raise E­states, to get Offices and go­vernments, that if they doe remove from that height of favour, yet they may still re­taine some happy monument of their former power, and a stay to their after-life. But those, who forgetting them­selves, [Page 121] and too much trusting to their fortune, in prodigall ryot doe consume all the wealth and revenew of that rich favour, are worthy of a poore old age, and then in vaine to repent themselves of their unseasonable and ill ac­ting so high a part.

Those Favorites also must use one caution, which, if they neglect it, doth some­times ruine them; not to pre­ferre themselves before their Prince in any thing in which he eyther desires to excell, or thinks hedoth. If he love the fame of policy, eloquence, va­lour, of the art of warre or hunting; let him yeeld, that knowes himselfe to excell at it; for feare the Prince should be fired with an emulation, [Page 122] that may not onely extinguish the favour, but draw on a cru­ell and heavy displeasure. For many times the Princes mind (with an ambition not small, but more than the thing de­serves) is desirous of fame in such matters, and takes it hea­vily to lose the prize. There is no certainer way for those Lords to gaine their Princes affections, than to seeme ad­mirers of them; but it must be done with art, and so as may gaine beleife, for all do not lie open to the same flatter [...]es. E­very Prince who eyther is cō ­scious of vertue in himselfe, or swelled with vaine credulity, either may be or loves to bee deceiued by those arts; so ma­ny men striving to please and praise thē do quite overcome [Page 123] their modesty, and make them beleive great matters of them­selves. Another great art of gaining their favor is to seem to love them, some Venus (as it were) insinuating an officious grace, and requi [...]ing from thē a requitall of affection. That man i [...] yet alive, and enjoyes the height of his fortune, who by such a happy accident en­creased the love and favour which his master began to beare him. The King by chance with a fal from his horse brui­sing his side, fell into a Fever; this Lord with a sad & astoni­shed countenance watched all night without sleepe by his masters side. Whether it were art or piety, he so far wrought upon the K. affectiō, that none was afterward in greater grace with him.

[Page 124] Nor can we say that the disposing of so great a felicity (which fome few onely can enjoy, having so many rivals in compassing that happy fa­vour) is onely in the hands of Fortune. For as Fortune a­lone doth bring some men in­to Kings favours; so many of them for want of art and wis­dome doe fall againe from that height; so that it may be sayd to be in Fortunes power, sometimes to raise men to it; but of prudence to keepe them in it. But it is therefore a more fearefull thing to fall from that happinesse, because having beene once admitted into the Sacrament of so high a friendship, they can hardly fall from it, but they fall into hatred, or at least a kinde of [Page 125] loathing; for love doth not so often use to dye of it selfe, a [...] to be killed by a contrary af­fection.

But those Noblemen, by whose hands Princes doe ma­nage the greatest affaires of their Kingdomes, to whom they trust their secret coun­sels, and the ordering of for­reine and domesticke affaires, doe commonly temper the strength of their dignity after another way; as namely so to draw all the deepest and grea­test cares of the realme into their owne hands, and so to appropriate them to them­selves, that they stand not in so much need of their Coun­try, as their Country does of their Service. And this they attaine by a perpetuall dili­gence [Page 126] in those affaires, and removing, as farre they can, not onely others, but even the King himselfe from the knowledge of them. For they may safely manage all things when the Prince is plunged either in ignorance of his owne businesse, or credulitie toward them. But these men being ignorant of their owne fame, doe as seldome almost heare the truth as Kings themselves. For although they be infamous for extorti­on or pride, or any other wic­kednesse, and so generally spo­ken of by the common voice, yet themselves many times know nothing of it, untill be­ing overwhelmed with the weight of them, they begin at the same time to feele the ha­tred [Page 127] and punishment too. Their countenances for the most part are composed of gravity; accesse to them is not easie; therefore discourses are short, shewing much busines, and a kinde of Majesty. A­mong these there are some, few, whose lookes are ney­ther confused with businesse, nor swelled with pride. These are worthy of high praise in­deed; nor are the other to be condemned, who fashi­on their manners according to their dignity and fortunes. For this high Majesty, a­bove the vulgars pitch, is sometimes necessary, in those men, by whose hands Kings doe manage their greatest af­faires: especially seing the dif­ficulty of accesse & conference [Page 128] begets a reverence toward them; whereby the minds of common people are bridled; for the people commonly doe eyther feare or contemne. But that asperity of a strict coun­tenance, whether it bee dis­daine, or a true valuation of their power, may well bee forgiven in them, who for a reward of all their weighty cares, have this especially, as a token of honour and respect. Besides being worne, as tt were, with continuall trouble and businesse, they cannot al­wayes put on the same coun­tenances, or looke with a cleare, and unchanged vi­sage.

But if that power, and abi­lity to helpe or deceive, doe fall upon impious minds, who [Page 129] intent wholly upon their owne profit, neglect the pub­like safety: then although in their wickednesse they coun­terfeit vertue never so subtil­ly, (as if neglecting their own domesticke affaires, they were carefull onely for their Prince and Countrey;) they turne notwithstanding all their bu­sinesses that way, which tends to the preservation and in­crease of their owne dignity. If they can helpe themselves while the Kings estate is trou­bled: while with all diligence they seeme to cleare it, they doe but involve it into moe difficulties, and throw it into darke perplexities. But if in a quiet kingdome they can more securely reigne, then of necessity they hate all com [...]motions, [Page 130] and will rather suf­fer the peace of their times to continue, though growing in the seedes of all evill, and per­chance to the ruine of po­sterity. Lastly, the same desires, which possesse elected Kings, doe commonly feed these Statesmen: both of them hol­ding a suddaine transitory po­wer, which is not at all to de­scend upon their posterity.

Who therefore can chuse but admire those men, which in so great a place can keepe integrity, and remember true vertue, when it lyes in their power to offend with so much ease, and so much ad­vantage? Some such in e­very age, to the releife of Mankinde, have come upon the stage, men severe to them­selves, [Page 131] of a white & innocent honour, ambitious of nothing but the publike good. But the goodnesse of these men many times cannot keepe them safe from envy. For by the very slipperinesse of their dignity (upon which few are strong enough to stand) and the vices of their fel­lowes, their vertue often­times is wronged; and de­tracting tongues will never leave those eminent places, in which they may find mat­ter of railing, sometimes justly, but never without sus­pition.

But glorious is the fruit of such a dignity: that beeing safe, and out of theyr [...]each, they see the envy of other men against them; [Page 132] and those men forced to give them respect, whom they know maliciously bent, hi­ding their aemulation, and stri­ving to expresse love. For such envy joyned with admi­ration, and stirred up onely a­gainst felicity, doth yeild (I know not in what sense) a kinde of ambitious pleasure to those men, against whom it rises, as putting them in mind of their owne greatnesse, and the basenesse of other men.

But they have another, and farre more excellent preroga­tive in governing the Com­monwealth, that can lend a helping hand to brave and vertuous men, whom poverty or some other calamity doth keepe downe, and be ready, as it were, to ayde distressed [Page 133] nature. Which thing as it becommeth thē to performe, so can they not leave it un­done without suffering of pu­nishment in themselves for it, as secretly chidden by the in­dignation of good men, and upbraided by the image of vertue daily complaining within them: For seeing they did deserve to be advanced for this very reason, because they either are or seeme to be men of the ancient and prudent in­dustry; Why should not they acknowledge men of that ex­cellent quality, and dearely love those that are of kindred with their owne dispositions? Nor are they ignorant which they be, or where they may be found. For as all other li­ving creatures, unlesse they be [Page 134] starke blinde, can see and know those that are of their owne kinde: so these men being of so cleare a sight, of so eminent and full a judge­ment, cannot chuse but finde out, without mistaking, men that are of kindred to their owne excellencies. And let them not say that they are op­pressed with the multitude of such natures, and that neither themselves nor the Common-wealth are sufficient to pro­vide for all of them; it were well with Mankind, if there were so great a plenty of ex­cellent soules, that, when all publike affaires were commit­ted to them, some would bee still left, bestowed by God up­on the world, as it were, for no action or employment. But [Page 135] Mankind is not happy in such a plenty; and it was rare in all ages, and among all Nations to find a deepe and pure wit, fit to be employed in any kind of civility, one adorned with learning, and borne with a cleare and valiant modesty, to dare all things, but nothing too much. When great men invite such dispositions to par­take with them in the publike felicity, they doe first honour themselves, as of kindred to that Genius; and secondly adde strength to the common-wealth, which is never better governed than by wise mē. As the fame of all eminent arts is stained by the multitude of ar­tificers, & the unskilfulnesse of thē, most of thē being unable to doe what they promise, & [Page 136] seeking for their commen­dation onely the vaine name of such an art: so the fame of wisedome and science hath beene oft stained by unwor­thy men, who have studyed nothing lesse than the Muses, or true Prudence. But it con­cernes great men to keepe downe that counterfeit and a­dulterate vertue; and advance true industry, vindicated from the praejudice of unskilfull men, to such rewards as, of ju­stice, are due to it.

BEsides these two sorts of great men, befriended by Fortune, there are in Kings Courts a great multitude of men of all births, noble and upstart, of all estates and ages, who there seeke after wealth, fame, and favour. And these houses of Princes, though to the outward show they ap­peare as places composed to all jollity and pleasure, some­times filled with revels, some­times [Page 138] (for a change of recrea­tion) sweating with hunting games; full of honours, glit­tering in pompous and gor­geous attire, and rich ban­quettings; where every man seemes to live in a garbe of magnificence, and jollity a­bove his condition: Yet to him that lookes more nar­rowly into the nature of it, they will appeare in manner of Faires or Markets, where men doe exercise a most labo­rious kinde of traffique. How many arts, how many trou­bles belong to a Court life, scarce they themselves can tell you, who have that way suf­fer'd along time for their am­bition. Nor does any man in this Sea deserve the haven, but he that understands that a cō ­tinuall [Page 139] care and labor belongs to him to turne even those things, which in such a life seeme to flatter a man with soft showes of pleasure into severe uses; and alwayes in those very delights, find out matter of care and industry. For as the hardest labors may grow into a delight (as when immoderate hunting; or too watchfull studies are pleasing to a strong and uncurbed minde:) so all kindes of sport may by a severe inten­tion bee so tempered, that they may turne to the bur­then of a true labour. There­fore the recreations and de­lights, which are found in the Court jollity, doe no way take the wisedome of those [Page 140] men who have not yet satisfi­ed their wants and ambition▪ to make them, among the [...] fading images of felicity, for­get that themselves are not yet happy, and let slip fortune, who for the most part never bestowes her selfe upon any man, but as the reward of an unwearied and strong dili­gence.

Wouldst thou know there­fore how, and with what countenance to receive these Sirens, left if thou hearken to them, they hurt thee, or if too rustickly thou conte [...]nne them, they proscribe thee as too unseasonably grave? There is no need of a sterne cou [...] ­nance or barbarous precepts. If they be of such a condition, age, and person, as they may [Page 141] hope to thrive by these re­vels and Court sports, then ar­tificially they mould them­selves to that magnificence, and pursue the fame of Court­ship; and especially turne their garbe to that kinde of jollity, which is most plea­sing to the Prince. But ney­ther is it good for them with the wast of their Patrimonies to buy the miseries of along hope: nor to let these loose and pleasant-seeming baites mollify and corrupt their mindes; thinking dally with themselves, that they are now at the hunting, not the prey. But others which are not by the same fortune invited to these showes of delight (as unfit for them in condition or disposition) suffer not them­selves [Page 142] to be deceived with that errour which the other unwary Gallants are, as to thinke that a man cannot be a brave fellow, or accounted a Courtier, unlesse he be emi­nent for extreame boldnesse, and all expressions of wanton jollity. They know that inge­nious vertue can there open to them other wayes, & more secure, to wealth and honour. And that Princes doe more certainely esteeme and reve­rence a man, that understands his owne condition and Ge­nius, and followes that, with­out any disguise or vain pride, than such men, as ambitiously counterfeit and put on a grab, which fortune hath denyed to their persons and conditions. This moderation doe those [Page 143] wise men keepe, who come to such Court-baites, as to an art, to make use of them ra­ther than enjoy them; but let them, whom Fortune has not condemned to soluxurious a charge, taste these delights in sober pleasure, and as a recre­ation onely to their greater cares. And rather as Specta­tors, then to be themselves a part of the Scene; Lastly those who possesse fortunes eyther by their owne industry, or their ancestors, may bee al­lowed to follow those plea­sures and recreations, as sor­ting with their ranke and qua­lity.

Nor is it wonder if those men be unfit for great matters whom sluggish Luxury, that look'd no farther than it selfe, [Page 144] has as it were bewitched; since a watchfull diligence letting passe no occasion, is not more required in any kinde of life, than that of a Courtier. For as trees grow from little seeds, and a man may stride over the fountaine of greatest rivers: so in Court greatest felicity hath sprung from very small beginning [...], and such as have not beene perceived by eyes intent one­ly uppon Playes and recreati­ons.

METELLA obtayned the marriage of DICTATOR SYL­LA by this accident; com­ming into the Theater, and lightly laying her hand on his shoulder as he sate, she sayd, she desired to partake of his fortune. MARIUS in his be­ginning [Page 145] poverty received his first encouragement from an accidental speech of SCIPIO, as prophetically pointing him out to the height of warre­like honour. For he knew how the hearers of this speech might be kept in this praeju­dication, and the greatnesse of his growing fame frō thence made up. So sometimes by a little and light blast wee are put in minde of a commodi­ous winde, which if we fol­low, will carry our vessell to such fortunes as were above our hopes, and almost above envy. It has raised some only to light upon a great man, when he was pleasant and free, and open to any acquain­tance which fortune brought him: some by a seasonable [Page 146] and happy sentence or jest: some by a suddaine token ex­pressed by chance of spirit or industry, some by a casuall cō ­mendation of one, who aymed not at that when he spoke, have been strangely furthered in the way of advancement.

There is therefore in men that are worthy to follow the Court with fortune, no rash soule, nor impatiēt of lingring and manifold hopes, but com­posed, and alwayes looking upon Fortune, and curious e­nough to find out whatsoever she, though implicitly, pro­mise to him. Nor do they wait idly untill those seedes of fe­licity do of their own accords, fall upon them. But by great arts they further Fortunes good meaning to thē; of which [Page 147] the chiefest are to have friend­ship with many, but with still observance, to keepe the favour of one of those which are of the nearest familiarity with the Prince. For that way of rising is not so open to en­vy, and besides, the Kings friends, more than the King himselfe, doe oftē bestow the wealth of the Kingdome. Let that Nobleman be such a one, as can prefer his friends with publike benefits; for great no­blemen neither wil give away their wealth, nor, if they would can those rivers afford such strōg tides, as a P. his sea cā do.

Nor must they weary the fa­vour of that Noblemā with of­ten and unprofitable suites; lest the very sight of them grow offensive to him, as fea­ring [Page 148] alwayes a fresh trouble; or else least spending his fa­vour in small matters, they be­come much indebted to him (as ever granting their suites) but little to fortune. In Fables we see that point of wisdome expressed. NEPTUNE granted to his sonne THESEUS th [...]ee wishes, and confirmed by a great oath that he should ob­taine them. THESEUS having twice tryed the Gods fidelity, when now his last wish re­mained, he was so loath to throw away that certaine be­nefit, which he could never call backe againe, that at the time of his imprisonment in Hell, when B [...]STHO [...]S was [...], he did not invoke the promised ayde of his Father, but [...]ared (as if there were [Page 149] somewhat beyond death) to redeeme his safety at so great a price.

There is in Court another labour of eminent profit; to be able to turne thy nimble and active minde severall wayes, and to put on, at least in shew, any motion or garbe that may be pleasing; which scarce any man can fitly doe, without strong and austere di­ligence, and a great command over his owne desires. By this art have many men gotten both estates and honours, ey­ther in free Commonwealths, in which so many Lords can­not bee all pleased with one vertue or one vice; or in Kings Courts, where you must not onely fashion your studies to the Princes owne honour, but [Page 150] must court all that are in grace with him; who being oft of various dispositions must bee wonne by different kinds of service.

These and the like studies of anxious diligēce do they take who follow the Court upon right hopes, and praecepts of true Prudence: but these things are either not discerned, or else despised by the more tha [...] blinded young Courtiers; who oftentimes unworthy of their parents carefull paines, fall a­way frō their wealthy mode­sty in a luxurius (& afterwards needy) ambition. It is enough for them to be named Courti­ers, & numbred among men of honor; it may be, because it is the first liberty that they taste after they are freed frō the ju­risdiction [Page 151] of their Schoolema­sters; and there are enow there to draw these novices into de­ba [...]shment. But if they chance to receive the least grace in countenance or words frō the Prince himself, they are scaarce able to beare so proud a joy; but with ravished eyes loo [...] about them to see who are by, to witnesse this great honor. But especially they seeke af­ter the fame of revelling and wanton Courtship, as a note of Nobility and manly vertue; nor doe they moderate them­selves according to their own estates, but to the expences of great men; so emulating the course of those that are above them, and not able to keepe pace with them, they run thē ­selves out of breath, and faint. [Page 152] From hence they grow hea­vily in debt, and complaine a­gainst the Prince, where them­selves are in fault; as if the Prince could infuse wisdom [...] into all his Servants; or that his sacred treasury, and tho­rough that, the Common-wealth should suffer for the profuse madnesse of these wanton fooles.

There, are not onely in Courts, but in all kindes of life, different dispositions of rich and poore men. I call not onely those poore men, who are in extreame want, and driven to take miserable care for meat and cloathes, but those al [...]o which want estates to support them in that state of li [...]e, which they have ta­ken; and [...]om which they [Page 153] cannot de [...]end but by a sad confession of poverty. Some poore men doe openly vent their griefe; and had rather complaine of the wretched­nesse of their condition, than excuse or conceale it. So to the great ease of their cala­mity, they can openly childe Fortune, and avoyd a greater trouble than poverty, which is, to counterfeit wealth. By this meanes they can inure themselves to beare their mis­fortune, and by professed la­bour seeke a remedy against that greefe, which they doe not hide. Men become of this nature, either by their low birth, which keepes them from blushing at poverty; or else (which is almost a vice) they are so subdued and ta­med [Page 154] by Fortunes lashes, that they dare breathe no higher; or lastly by a brave and com­mendable contempt of transi­tory things, di [...]daining to professe that condition, in which the fates have placed them; able to manage great fortunes, and in poore estates not deje [...]ted.

There is another kinde of poore men, who with an ob­stinate and Spartan patience can endure all the strokes of fortune. They with a merry-seeming countenance, do hide the anxiety of their ca [...]e-di­stracted mindes, and thinke themselves happy enough, if they can seeme so to others. So in an obstinate conceale­ment of their miseries, they suffer inwardly for that [Page 155] shamefastnesse, being ever so­licitous about their publike fame, and moreover the talke of their houshold Servants, who must both know, and sometimes feele those woūds. As many of those poore men as doe see helpe at hand, and neare to them upon certainty (which is enough to make ci­ties stiffely endure a siedge) & have for a while with fained cheerfulnesse hid their pover­ty, doe not onely deserve not to be accused of pride, but to be accounted brave men, and worthy to be speedily rescued by prospe [...]ity. But those men, w ^ch in their poverty, do suffer that perpetuall vexatiō, w [...]th­out any expectatiō of fortunes redresse (at least not hopefull) yet wil so order their affaires, [Page 156] as in midst of perpetuall do­mesticke miseries, they will put on this maske of wealth; they are altogether worthy of pity, and may without envy enjoy that ambition, which with so many cares and cala­mities they have purchased. There are lastly some, tho­rough whom wealth, like suddaine gushes of water, doth passe and spend it selfe in a magnificence too high for it. Their mindes doe suf­fer a wonderfull punishment, and worthy of their madnesse; nor is there a greater or worse madnesse, than, not to decline, by a mature confession of thy fortunes, a certaine ruine; and whilest by a charge that cannot last, thou wouldst have the people thinke thy estate [Page 157] great; thou makest it so small that it can never after stand in any mediocrity. This is especially the fault of No­blemen and young Gentle­men, that come newly to their inheritances, who are of an haughty disposition, not knowing frugality, but by a profusion of wealth seeking a fame higher than their owne estates, or the fortune of their ancestours. Their mindes are troubled with long mala­dies, and fall oftentimes from that greatnesse, which they seeme to carry; for there is scarce any humility, nor often­times plaine fraud, but they will secretly descend to it, to get money, which afterwards publikely, as it were in a whirlewinde of inconsiderate [Page 158] rashnesse, they may pro [...]ely throw away. There is nothing more dangerous than to com­mit any publike office to such dispositins, who by any meanes strive to respite that Poverty, with an anxious feare, but such an one as is not paenitent, they daily and just­ly expect.

There are also as many di­versities in the condition of rich men as of poote. Some are born to estates left by their ancestors. Other men by de­grees do get wealth, & learne by little and little to be fortu­nate. Both of these are neither transported with admi [...]ation of themselves, nor with im­mode are exultation, long cu­stome having almost destroy­ed the sense of daily joy which [Page 159] is never excessive, when by deg [...]ees [...] and expires. But there are some, who by a suddaine torrent of Fortune are overwhelmed, and at one race doe run as it were from Earth to Heaven. And these men, by such an unusuall sweetnesse are transported to a forgetfulnesse of themselves and a most proud contempt of that condition, from whence they are now translated. There happened lately a fi [...] example for us to behold a minde drunke [...] with suddain prosperity, and worthy of re­lation, because by the view of one picture we may conje­cture of other faces.

There were two youths, who by education at the same Schooles, were endeared to­gether [Page 160] in a neare tie of friend­ship. The name of the one was MELLA, the name of the other CAEPIO, in who [...]e coun­trie the Schoole was, and this beginning of their love. The time passing away which that age doth spend at Schoole, Mella teturned into his owne Countrey; But first with Capi [...] he entered into a deare league of everlasting friendship; nor was this af­fection in them afterwards changed by their more man­ly studies and delights. For by often letters and declarati­on of all their secrets, they still nourished their ancient friendship. In the meane time an unexpected inheri­tance had raised Caepio to a higher condition; and Mella [Page 161] about certaine businesses was called into Capio's Countrey. Of whose comming when Caepio understood, not now so mindefull of their old love, as glorying to have Mella a wit­nesse of his high fortunes, hee made haste to goe and visit him. Mella his affection was sincere, and not over­come by such assaults of For­tune. Hee therefore with a plaine heart goes to meet his friend, and affectionately em­bracing him, begins to remē ­ber all tho [...]e things, which friends at the first sight, after long absence, use to doe. But Caepio with a grave and com­posed looke, and an affected voyce, as if hs were loath to change the copy of his coun­tenance, began almost to sing [Page 160] to him. And when hee was invited to follow into Mel­la's lodging, to which, as in houses of meane estate, there were narrow staires; I pre­thee, Mella (quoth he) dost thou lead mee into a chamber or a prison? Mella was of­fended with this scornefull majesty of Caepio, but loath himself to offend in that kind, told him, hee did but hyre the lodging; that the roome, doores, and staires were such as travellers might make use of. But when they were come into the chamber, Caepio care­lesly flinging himselfe upon the bed, and smiling, began a­gaine with a rusticke urbani­ty to detide the inconveni­ence of the lodging: Mella, though hee were angry, yet [Page 161] notwithstanding (as if hee consented to Caepio) hee hid it with a smile also. But hee casting his eyes round a­bout upon the lodging, af­ter hee had with a carelesse state surveyed all the fur­niture, turned his eyes and countenance vpon Mella: And seeing his bootes, hast thou an horse (quoth he) or rather horses? Those that come out of your Countrey are of good price; and I find none more fleete than they, when I chase the Stagge, in my woods. When Mella told him hee had none of his countrey Horses, and though hee brought some, yet hee had lost them by some diseases, or, the di­stemper of a strange ayre; [Page 164] why then (quoth Caepio) dost thou weare bootes? Mella in scorne answered him, that he provided them against winter. Can you tell, [...] Caepio, whose Coach that is, that stands before the doore? When Mella told him it was his; You said quoth Caepio, you had no horses. Not of our Countrey horses, said Mella; but did you thinke I came through this Citie a foote? I hyred German horses to the Coach. Did two horses or foure draw it (quoth Caepio?) By this time Mella began to be fi [...]led with disdaine as well as anger, but willing to con­tinue this Comaedy, he answe­red smilingly he had but two horses; that he left foure for such fortunate men as Caepio [Page 165] was. Tell me then, said Cae­pio; are you knowne to your King? What quantity of Lands have you? Or doe you command any Lordships? Mella at this could scarce containe laughter, but made him answere onely, that he so enjoyed that meane estate which his ancestors had left him, as that hee might neyther discredit them, nor ruine his posterity. Againe when he more [...] asked him how much his annuall re­vene [...] was, he answered that it [...] him, and sometimes his friends too; and by that end especially hee valued his wealth. But when he saw himselfe assaulted with so ma­ny questions, he resolved to turne the burden of answe­ring [Page 164] upon Caepio, who was most glad of it. Therefore Mella began to aske him how many Servants daily attended in his house? And afterwards how many horses he kept? And how gracious hee was with his Prince? Nor was Cae­pio any more modest in spea­king of himselfe than wife in questioning of others; but his especiall discourse was of the Court; where he said many of the Noblemen, were simple people. Some of them by easie endeavours he gained for friends; others were taken with admiration of his valour, for hee had now beene twice in the Feild; and others of them, in respect of th [...] favour, which hee had with the King, were glad [Page 165] to proffer all offices of friend­ship to him. Mella was now amazed, and confident that none but a mad man could utter this. Therefore tur­ning all his wearinesse into wonder and pleasure, hee began to urge him farther, and with madde questions to plunge him, that was forward enough, into absur­dities. There was a little rest, and both of them af­ter these follies had beene a while silent; when CAE­PIO, as if some speciall thing had come into his minde, breakes out on the suddaine, How eager thin­kest thou are my hunting Dogges now of the Game? For I have charged my menne not to goe abroad [Page 168] with them in my absence. My Hawkes now are out of date; for they are mewing their feathers at this time of the yeare. And presently he ad­ded, the day growes old; f [...]e upon it; I should long since have waited upon the King. He will chide me for being so long absent frō him. With these words in a stately embrace he falls upon Mella, who more humbly saluted him, and inviting him home to his house, fitting his pride to a kind of curtesie, he en­treated him to make use of his faithfull friendship, that desi­red to serve him, and request him in what he wanted; hee should find him true in per­formance of his promises. This was the end of their dis­course, [Page 169] which amazed Mel­la, and made him curse so­daine wealth, if it transport a man into such madnesse.

This vice of immoderate boasting is incident not onely to those men, whose wise­dome Fortune by her too so­daine guifts has overwhel­med, but to those also which place their glory in warlike feates. For having for the most part, rude mindes, and eyther nurtured in campes, or among those men, whose peace is infected with the faults of campes, they thinke nothing more glorious than to bee feared; and absurdly thinke to be beleeved, while they speake of themselves. From hence proceeds that boldnesse in bragging and [Page 170] high words, as if their swords should purchase the favour and beliefe of all men. Here­upon in auncient Comedies were the persons of Pyrgopo­liniees, and Thras [...] invented, to shew examples of this fiercenesse, flourishing more in swelling wordes, than th [...] true dangers of a Warre. But in Old men and Captaines e­specially this fault reignes more securely, and with more pardon; Mindes indeed com­posed for glory, but erring sometimes by inconsiderate vanitie.

THe next Dignity, after the majesticke height of Courts and Princes, is that of Magistrates, to whom the for­tunes of Suitors are commit­ted, the punishme [...] [...] guilty persons, and th [...]e offices, which are distinguished into divers titles by the number of those that practice, and the desire of getting of wealth. These for the most part are advanced to their places by [...]pen, and permitted bargai­ [...]ing; or else in such Coun­tries [Page 172] as these, sales are publike­ly forbidden, by private, and more strict contracts with no­ble men, they find there also some that will sell the Com­mon-wealth. They pay often­times so great and immode­rate rates for their places, that it is plainly shewed they seeke for them onely through am­bition and hope of prey. For to desire onely to benefit the Commonwealth with a deare care, which destroyes their owne esta [...] is not a vertue of this Age, nor to be looked for perchance since the Curij, and Fabritu. But seeing that no vertue is now followed gratis, and for its owne beau­ty, but all in respect of their rewards are made lovely to men: Therefore this desire of [Page 173] wealth & gaine in Magistrates may more easily bee indured, upon condition that they, content with that cōmon and al­most allowed way of sinning, will afterwards with sinceri­ty of minde behave them­selves in their imployment.

But as by that height which they undertake, they have po­wer to moderate, and if they please, to abuse the people un­der them; So unlesse that by mature wisedome, and such as is not only capable of their place of judicature, they can bridle their desires, them­selves cannot avoyd flowtes, and reproaches; but those for the most part are secret ones, and in their absence. For o­penly by flattering speeches they are stirred up to pride, [Page 174] and a vaine confidence of themselves; whilest so many suitors in law with great ob­servance, but such as doth not last, doe seeke their favours: For no man, which is called into question for his estate, but can be content humbly to petition the Iudges, and, if they be harsh and froward, to appease them; or if they lye open to a favourable ambiti­on, to feed them (like meate) with many prasses, and crind­ging gestures. Rome did long agoe teach the world that art, when offenders in feare and reverence used to fall downe at the Iudges feete, clothed in base gownes, and their haire in a vile manner neglected. But all these sup­pliants, what end soever their [Page 175] businesses haue, assoone as e­ver they are gone out of the Iudges presence, put off again this fearefull disguise of soo­thing; and sometimes among their companions remember with great laughter, and rec­kon up the flatteries which they used, and the credulity of those, to whom they put them. For Iudges being al­wayes full of succeeding troopes of clients, doe many times value themselves accor­ding to their flattery, and thinke that all those are true honourers to their dignity, who by a composed humility do seeke to gaine their favour. Those Iudges, I meane, whose ambition is not acquainted with the manners and subtle­ty of our Age; which they [Page 176] have seene nothing but the Schooles and Courts, in one of which they used to trifle, in the other to have obser­vance, and be deceived; or else are of narrow and easie mindes, fondly to beleeve them that speake for their owne ends. But then especi­ally are they ridiculous to the people, when, as if they were ashamed of their owne condi­tion, they put on the gestures and words of Souldiers, or in their attires imitate the Court fashions, or follow other de­lights, which are not suitable to the majesticke gravity of Gownes and tribunall Seates. Which errours doe many times overtake unexperien­ced young men; for young men are sometimes advan­ced [Page 177] to those dignities.

But nothing is more mise­rable to a Common-wealth than when Magistrates and Iudges, forgetting that God­desse, under whose name, and by whose representation they pronounce sentence, swayed in their affections, either by the greatnesse of guifts, or fa­vor of the pleaders, are not a­fraid to deceive the Lawes. Nor can I easily tell which is the greater fault to be swayed by money or by friends; For that easinesse in them of deny­ing nothing to their Favou­rites, opens a Iudges breast to all impiety, accustomed thus by degrees to injustice, that excu­sing his crime with a show of friendship, afterwards where­soever hatred or hope shall [Page 178] leade him, he will not feare to offend, and to doe that for his owne sake, which at first he did for his friends.

But if they be eagerly in­tent on wealth, and seeke ri­ches by the peoples harmes; then the body of the Commonwealth under such Phy­sitians is more sicke of the remedies than of the disea­ses. But there are few that in an open way of villany, dare thus to satisfie the lusts of themselves or their friends. There is a more lingring plague, or, if thou wilt, a modest cruelty; which now by custome is almost excused; to intangle with intricate knots, and so prolong the cau­ses in their Courts; to be en­ded late, through an infinite [Page 179] and almost religions course of orders. By these arts they prolong their domination over wretched men, and de­liuer them up to be more pol­led by their [...]cers. And with perpetuall prey they feed the advocates, and whole nation almost of those which are fatted with the spoyles of wretched Clients. And how intollerable are the trickes of some? Iustice which they are afrayd to sell openly, they prostitute under other Merchants. Their houshold Servants are their Remem­brancers and Secretaries, who use to put into order, and to keepe in record of writing the causes of suitors, and the instruments of them. But such men they doe not ad­mit [Page 180] into this ambitious ser­vice, untill by great summes of money, which they before by suites have gotten, they make purchase of these pla­ces. Oh miserable mockery of the fortunes of poore wretches, that come to these tribunals▪ That the servants of Iudges are not hired, but pay money to be admitted in­to their family and service, what is it else but to buy a li­berty of coosening, and by stolne fees to rob the suitors, and by selling their suffrages, by either shortening or ob­truding bookes, dare to de­ceive both their Masters and aequity it selfe. But many of these Magistrates have can­deid mindes, and prefarre holinesse, just honours, and [Page 181] that stipend, which the law allowes them, before the co­vetous artes.

These are grave men, and modestly composed within the greatnesse of their for­tune; Nor are they praised more by the flatterie of those that seeke their ayde, than by true fame of their piety and justice. But if you value the Courts of these Iudges not by the manners of each in par­ticular, but by the gravity of the whole Colledge or as­sembly, it is wonderfull how great a reverence they will strike into you. For beeing admitted into their presence, you will altogether thinke them worthy of that speech of CYNEAS, who sayd he thought himselfe enviro­ned [Page 182] by as many Kings, as Ro­man Senatours were then assembled. But yet this Maje­sty will be a [...] more grate­full and delightfull spectacle, to those men that being free from law businesse, have no hopes or [...] depending upon their sentences; who sitting, as it were in the Ha­ven, may securely looke upon the stormy Sea, and see these NEPTUNES governing the Waves according to their owne becke. When Rome and Carthage were in league, MASSANISSA King of N [...] ­midia, who was also at friend­ship with Rome, had warre with Carthage. The armies were both encamped against each other, and the day ap­pointed for fight; when [Page 183] SCPIO the younger, being sent by chance upon other businesse into Affrica, came to the Campe of MASINIS­SA, and enjoyed the sight of that great battaile; he him­selfe, which way soever For­tune enclined, was secure by the Majesty of the Roman name. He went therefore up to the top of an hill to view the battell, and there secure­ly enjoyed the dangers of so many men. And it seemed to him a matter of so ambitious a delight, that he sayd, none ever had had that fortune be­fore him, but onely IOVE from IDA, and Neptune from Sam [...]thracia, who placed out of all danger, beheld the bat­taile of the Greekes and Tre­j [...]nt. The same may be sayd of [Page 184] this spectacle of the Courts & Iudges, than which no­thing is more delightfull, if thou stand without danger, and have no need either to in­treat or feare. For thou mayst there grow pleasantly ac­quainted with the learned minds of Iudges (as many of thē are such,) or else perceive their want of sence and elo­quence in some causes, and so give sentence upon the Iud­ges themselves. Or if thou lovest to be among the trou­ble of the Court, the very noyse of their running up and downe, and different lookes, some animated with feare, some exulting with hopes, wil so take up thy mind and eyes, that thou wilt thinke thou beholdest a pleasant scene of [Page 185] humaine madnesse. And e­specially the subtilty of the advocates, (whose eloquence is there at sale) displaying it selfe in ostentation of Science and pompous language, will be enough to give thee a de­light sweet, and not altoge­ther idle; which while thou enjoyest, thou shalt notwith­standing with fearlesse sighes grieve sometimes for the mi­series of others.

For the mindes and condi­tion of the advocates (as mankind doth turne even her aydes to her owne ruine) are much changed from the first institution of officious Piety. To pleade causes before the Iudges, to accuse the guilty, and defend poore Suppliants, was once a magnificent and [Page 186] liberall office, performed by those men to whom the com­monwealth committed the highest charges in the Campe or Senate house. POMPEY the Great stood not ofter in battell than before the Iud­ges; and the first CAESAR'S, although they had all power, yet sometimes they chose ra­ther to aide the accused by way of advocation, than by the suffrage of their high au­thority. And that magnifi­cent function was so far from having any hire but glory, that when afterward that right Nobility began to de­cline, and Orators beganne to sell their paines, lawes were made to forbid, and brand with infamy such dangerous hires; and afterwards when [Page 187] the publike vice had broken downe those barres also, yet there was a meane set downe, and a certain pension appoin­ted for that mercenary elo­quence. But now when the world grew mad, and suites did exceedingly increase; that thriving and numerous nati­on are scarce enow for their clients, who spoyle them­selves to feede their owne dissentions.

But as all lawyers have one aime euery where, to get wealth, and fame, so accor­ding to the qualitie of the Countries, there are different studies, and degrees, by which they come to that end. The especiall part of their know­ledge is to understand the lawes, not with a cleare and [Page 188] candid Genius, such as they had which made those lawes, but as they are perplexed with innumerable & trouble­some poins of subtlety. To finde out somewhat in them whereby to delude the simpli­city of them, that goe plaine­ly to worke, is now esteemed the most glorious thing. A­mong most nations those lawes, which the Romans made for themselves, and we call civill, are now in force. And because those lawes were founded by skilfull Au­thors, they have strong diver­sity of learning in them, and therefore the studie of them doth not onely store the wits of students with deepe and hard cases of right and fact, but bestowes upon them a [Page 189] faire knowledge of antiquity, which is most precious for the adorning of humane life, and strong (at least in plea­ding) for ostentation. But in those nations, among whom lawes were made not accor­ding to the Roman wisedome, but their owne municipall, and sometimes barbarous de­cretalls, there the unpleasant art of lawiers containes scarse any thing of humanity in it, and unlesse it promised them gaine, would be hatefull even to those that are the most studious in it. For there the Lawyers dresse not their wits with the Roman and Graeci­an science or eloquence, but sticking upon certain termes, and contemplating the lawes sometimes for caution, some­times [Page 190] for deceit, they scarce ever adorne or raise theyr mindes with purer learning.

England, which has enter­tained the Muses, and all stu­dies of Learning in most state­ly houses, and enriched them with great and high reve­nues, as it were to perpetuate learning to Eternity, cannot therefore adorne her Stu­dents of the Law with the humanity of Philosophy, and the Roman eloquence; be­cause in her lawes there are no tracts and footsteps of the Roman law, or learned anti­quity. They are conceived in the French tongue, even that old French, which wee now eyther neglect or laugh at in ancient Authors. If there be any words in it, which are [Page 191] now currant, even those wordes, by changing the ac­cents, and errour of pronun­tiation, they have made their owne. Those that are Stu­dents in this law, doe sel­dome regard any greater Sci­ence, and for the most part doe not learne the elements of the Roman language. It is thought enough for the lear­ning of a lawyer to be able to reade over those old bookes, and corrupt them in pronun­ciation. The young students live in colledges ordained for those subtleties, and by long time, by conference with the ancients, and experience, are instructed in them: for it is no small part of their age that will suffice to make them lear­ned in an art so laborious, and [Page 192] amplified by so many wits. There is no more certaine way to riches in that Coun­trey. For England quiet now from forreine warres, is (with almost as great a de­struction) given wholly over to Law contentions; and see­ing that the greatest Offices, and Magistracies are ordained as rewards for that kind of learning, no marvell it is if the noblest young men be ta­ken with the study of it; in­somuch as there is scarce any house of Gentry, but in suites can finde Lawyers of theyr owne kindred. Those Law­yers as a badge of their pro­fession doe weare long Gownes downe to their feet, faced with theyr owne Cun­ [...]ies skinnes. This is their [Page 193] weare at home, and their or­nament abroad; nor doe they make any scruple of going in publike Booted, their Spurres tearing their Gowne that beates against them.

But France in other vertues and vices doth instruct her ad­vocates. Some time they spend in the Vniversity pro­fessing the study of the Civill law. There some with a hap­pie Genius doe follow their learning, others as if they were borne in a Lethargie. But both of them (oh the Times) are capable, as a pro­miscuous reward, of the same honours and the same titles. For those who have there played the trewants through wanton idlenesse [Page 194] or dulnesse of Nature, may by the helpe of a little mo­ney attaine the degree of Advocate; onely by buying the suffrages of the other advocates, to whose testi­mony concerning the suffi­ency of Students the Magi­strates and Iudges give cre­dit.

Which was by an anci­ent custome, that such ho­nour should bee given to theyr testimonies, in the old time before the mindes of Learned men and Lawyers were subject to so base a mer­cenary way. And these men so undeservingly admitted to that degree, doe afterwards live in ignoble Colonyes, and among soules of their owne dulnesse, will serve to [Page 195] make wretched advocates before a blind Tribunall. Or if they bee borne of rich parents, they are straight received for their wealth, and afterwards (which is the griefe) are made Magi­strates.

But those that have ador­ned a happie wit first with law, and afterwards with elo­quence perfited it, they with their worth doe highly ho­nour the whole ranke of ad­vocates. Sca [...]se in any other men are the Studies of huma­nity so truely found, or so great and happy a care in good Learning; insomuch as they seeme to instru [...]t the Muses (whom austere and rude Philosophers have kept as wilde and rusticke out of [Page 196] the society of men) to all the abilities of a civill life, and ta­king them from their secret and mountainous aboades, fit them for the true light of Conversation.

But some of them offend by affectation of too much Eloquence, and heated with the incitations of Youth and vaine glory, divert from their duty of advocation. They desire onely to tickle the eare of the Iudges and Auditours with pleasure, and of all the company, doe lesse good to no man than theyr Client; and (as the Poet of old scoffed) when they should speake of Goates, they love to be­ginne theyr discourse with the warres of HANNI­BALL, [Page 197] to rehearse the o­verthrow at CANNAE, and the stayning of AVFI­DVS with Roman blood. Others of them are great by exercising theyr wits in a long custome of deceiving, and to the ruine of inno­cence, prostitute theyr mer­cenarie faith to the patro­nage of any Cause. So to beare downe the true evi­dences, to draw an artifici­all shadow, and to make theyr wits have more to doe than the Lawes themselves in a Court of Iustice, are things which proove enough this publike mischiefe; there are no causes, no offences questioned but may finde a Patron, if they bring mo­ney; which, as a thing quite [Page 198] outweighing all love to their Countrey, can never want observance and respect. *⁎*

LEt some of barbarous and unpolish'd natures scoffe, as they list, with contemptu­ous jests at the Majesty of learning; and account that mind manly and noble, which eschewes all the Muses as base and uselesse; yet notwithstan­ding their estates are often­times lyable to the power of learning, which reignes in all cases; and in judgment seates (which ought to be governed by the praescript of science) they use to tremble, [Page 200] forgetting both their birth and boldnesse. But there is another and a greater power, which gives learning a domi­nation over all Mankind; the administration of Religi­on and holy rites, which is committed usually to men of learning; and which truely reignes over most mens mindes; curbing no lesse all others, who are forced of ne­cessity to conceale their A­theisme and Impiety. Nor is there any estate so poore, or of so ignoble a birth, as can keepe a man from high fame, who in the way of religion puts forth himselfe above the com­mon honesty or badnesse. And least we should thinke that this power of learning hath not taken effect; how easily [Page 201] may we reckon up the names of men unarmed, and onely powerfull in their bookes, who in this age living under meane roofes, and conten­ding in points of Religion, have set these great and proud contemners of the Muses, to­gether by the eares? Bearing, as it were, the ensignes before Princes and Nations to cala­mitous and deadly warres, which yet (as it seemes) is not wholly appeased with our ca­lamities, nor hath consumed the seeds of all that bitternes; which brought it forth.

There can be therefore no survey of mindes more pro­fitable, than of those, which in these manifold stormes of the world doe sit at the sterne of religion. And these are [Page 202] to be distinguished into di­vers rankes; some as Cap­taines doe begin new religi­ons, and eyther have true wisedome, or run headlong in ambitious errour. So was he that by lawes given from heaven governed the Jewes returning out of Aegypt. So was the great Creator of hea­ven and earth, who taking upon him man's nature, did by his death open the way of life to Mankinde. And so (because heere we describe not onely honesty, but for­tune, which playes her games in humane affaires) was, Oh villany! That man which infected with his venome first Arabia and Syria, af­terward whatsoever lyes be­tweene the Hellespont and In­dia, [Page 203] and now from thence all the Countries as farre as the hither part of Hungary, and with his sacrilegious su­perstition hath corrupted al­most all Affrica. And those whom true and caelestiall in­spirations have led to the Majesty of founding religion, are not to be looked into by us, bnt onely with faith and adoration. But others who are not afraid in so great a matter to abuse Heaven, and coosen the people, must of ne­cessity have such a minde as beleeves nothing at all eyther of their owne Lawes or of Heaven, as spares no vertue▪ nor forbeares (unlesse [...] in show) any vice; but [...] especially [...]efull to gaine to themselves a [...] [Page 204] turning those lawes, which they make, to the lust and su­perstitions of their owne Nation. Nor can those which offend in this kinde (as in other wickednesse it oft falls out) be deceived themselves, or blinded with love of their owne opinions, or the things in question; but being conscious to their owne wickednesse, they know themselves to be im­pious and the plagues of Mankind; especially when to perswade the people to such a serious novelty is re­quired a most bold presump­tion, in subtill wit, and be­sides many lyes are to be in­vented; as namely that they saw or heard the Deity; that they consulted with [Page 205] him; and whatsoever else those lewd impostors use to averre. But this is not a mis­chiefe incident to every age; for but few (and not alwayes with successe) have gone so farre as to that most impious audacity. There is another kinde of men, and farre more frequent, of those who professe not to forsake the religion of their Fathers, or to broach any novelty; but onely with more pure precepts to roote out errours which by hu­mane corruption and contra­ry to the minde of antiquity have crept into religion. And these men carry a most magnificent show of honesty, and reverent wisedome (for who but subtill and industri­ous [Page 206] men would venture on so great a matter?) And lastly, the very desire of innovating and differing from other men doth almost alwayes finde a multitude of followers. The wrangling of such interpre­ters have much more divided the OTHOMAN Princes from the PERSIAN by difference of Superstition than by emulation of Em­pire. But what matters it how those people perish, who must needs erre, what sect soever they undertake to fol­low? But who would not grieue that wee our selves which are borne into the one­ly light, should by the dis­cords of learned men bee so miserably dist [...]asted? For sixeteene ages, in which our [Page 207] religions have flourished, have brought forth above an hundred wits, which by a desire of innovation, and our calamities have gotten them­selves a fame. Whose procee­dings as I can never excuse (for by too great a fault of ob­stinacy they transgresse against that modesty, in w ^ch they see­med to begin) so we may not alwayes justly hate their first motions. For wealth, sloth, and idle security have with an impotent p [...]ide and other vi­ces overwhelmed all disci­pline among many of us; and from thence as well the just indignation of learned men hath bin stirred, as the pride of busie bodies, shadowed with the veile of piety, hath beene first fostered. For some [Page 208] possessed with just sorrow have thundered against it; o­thers with a secret ambition have loved the vices of the age, as things that would give just occasion to their com­plaints and separation. They use to have both one begin­ning. At the first they question not many things, and those very sparingly, assisted by the prayers and exhortations of the best men: nor doe they seeme so much to be angry as to admonish, and with sighs to p [...]ofesse their griefe. But when they are gotten to the height of a fa [...]tion, then with more freedome doe they pro­voke their adversaries, and on both sides is kindled a most hot & furious emulat [...]ō. Then can they neither modest [...]y e- [Page 209] guide the fortune of so great a fame, nor continue in those steps, by which at the first they seemed to goe to that godly and good endeavour; but rising up with a greater pride, they condemne more things in their adversaries, and with greater vehemen­cy; eyther because they de­sire, in a miserable ambition, to give their owne names to that Sect which they have made: or because they durst not betray, but by de­grees, the first intention of their separation; or else be­cause their hatred is more incyted against those who did too fiercely and unseasonably contend against their first and wholsome reprehensions. So many that with pio [...]s be­ginnings [Page 210] haue entered upon this taske of reformation, have beene afterwards betray­ed by pride and bitternesse of emulation.

But there are some who by a true and stout wisedome are encouraged to taxe those vi­ces, which by the fault of Priests have shadowed them­selves under the Cloake of religion. These men, whose just zeale is thus tempered with true modesty, must needs be of a sublime and valiant disposition, and (which is ra [...]e) not labouring at all for their owne ends, but the pub­like good. By reproaches, in­juries, and i [...]l speeches they are neyther stirred to hatred, nor righted from their good intentions. This is a most ex­cellent [Page 211] atchievment, and a worke of high vertue? For those, who are reprehended by them, are seldome wanting to their vices, nor w ^t patience can they endure a censurer. But they will find some glosse to set upon their villanies, or (which is worse) stand out in a stiffe defence of them; & en­deavour to bring those good admonishers, into an opi­nion of sac [...]ilegious impiety among the people.

But as the rites of begin­ning Religio is do rely whol­ly upon the industry and Ge­nius of their Fo [...]ders: so, after they are approved by the people, they haue their officers by whom they are ad­ministred. These men by se­verall [Page 212] Nations are honoured with different titles: we call them high Priests, Bishops, and by other titles of that nature. There is no better Governement then this to preserve Religion; which in­deed was instituted by the prescript of Heaven. Those among them, which are of a learned and laborious vertue, doe indeed up hold the safety of Religion; those that are wicked, doe uphold it, at least in show, and by vertue of their dignity.

It was once a function of great labour, and, whilest our Religion was forbidden by publike lawes, of high and extreame danger: af­terward when the cruelty of our enemies was ouer­come [Page 213] and extinguished, that wealth, which was heaped upon them to uphold the reverence of that dignity, did almost extinguish the cause of reverence. For when temporall wealth and honours were added (as it was fit they should be ad­ded) to those Divine cal­lings, so great a burthen beganne to disperse them to the Earth, by the default of those, who in such a mix­ture of these two, beganne to preferre Earth before Hea­ven. It is a sad argument of decaying honesty, that a function of so great labour and care, which was wont to seeke out for Incumbents, is now sought for with much eagernesse and ambi­tion [Page 214] by men, that thinke of nothing lesse then piety and labour.

So this excellent and coe­lestiall dignity is for the most part ruined by her owne wealth and ornaments. And to apply a mans minde to those functions is for the most part to be entent in raising of high and eminent riches. And those that are possessed of those ambitious titles, doe spend that wealth and treasure, which was first given for publike Hospitali­ty, upon their private wan­tonnesse, which pleaseth it selfe sometimes with a vaine delight in Pictures, sometimes in the curious la­bours of other Artificers; for a modest sorrow would be [Page 215] ashamed to speake of those that spend them in worse things, and plaine villany. But what madnesse is it not onely to dare to commit those villanies, but often­times to be ignorant how much they offend? For they have prayers prescribed them to God, holy ones indeede, and such as they ought not to omit; but having perfor­med that little taske, they thinke then they owe no­thing to Heaven, and the wealth of their Miters is law­fully bought by them. What strange vizards are these and foolish madnesse? to thinke that that function, which by a daylie and strict labour thou canst scarce performe, [Page 216] should be fulfilled by a slight and perfunctory worke. But if they would season their de­lights with this wholesome cogitation, that they are pla­ced in a watch-tower, and are called Shepheards; if any of the sheepe do perish by their sloath, it will proove their owne destruction, this though perchance would al­lay the licence of their wan­tonnesse, pompe, and jollity.

But all doe not wallow in the same delights and sloath. Some doe abate something from the charge of their plea­sures to bestow upon learned men; themselves also are given to learning, but it is but in a short fit, not to last, and sometimes in show only. [Page 217] Some of them doe attaine to good learning, overcomming sloath by a happy strength of wit. But they u [...]e that learning more in nothing than in mainteining the pri­viledges of that dignitie which they possesse. They find out arguments for infi­nite liberties of their owne, and their hidden lusts doe make them eloquent. By this meanes while they seeme to looke up onely into Hea­ven, and pleade the cause of God; they are staked to the Earth.

But those that have avoy­ded these mischie [...]es, that are endued with a disposi­tion fit fo [...] their high cal­li [...]g, and doe use then pub­like [Page 218] splendour to the good of the people, and the grace of Divine service (as there are alwayes some such) those will neither endure to loose the priviledges which be­long to their dignities, nor encroach upon other-mens; but in a good contemplation they joyne together how much they can doe, and how much they ought. These are men composed after the image of the old sanctity, of the same cares, and the same manner of life, which in old time did deserve that wealth, which the Church now in­joyes. Lastly, these men (let none envy what I say) are truely worthy of the wealth which old times bestowed, [Page 219] and of our highest reve­rence.

The people cannot be suf­ficiently taught from the Pre­lates owne mouthes, for the number of them is but small. From hence a great number of learned men, and graduates in Divinity are maintained e­very where, of whom some truely and wisely doe labour in that science which they professe; but others, you would suppose, do labor more to uphold a faction, thā to find out truth. For carryed away with a great violence of mind they allow of a defence of a­ny nature to proove to the people the sanctity of their religion, and love to advance piety, though by impious [Page 220] meanes. Therefore to main­taine their owne propositi­ons, they thinke they de­ceive fairely and with com­mendations, although e­vident arguments may bring credit to that which they beleeve true. And speaking of their adversaries, they doe not truely deliver their te­nets, but spitefully turne them, almost contrary to the sence of the Authors. But that mad desire of controver­sie doth so farre heighten their emulation, that where they begin a little to differ, they will afterwards be crosse in all things from those men; and thinke that a kind of pie­ty. And then, as if those men who once have erred, [Page 221] could hold or reproove no­thing rightly, they thinke it a sinne to acknowledge in themselves any spots which those men have found out, and to wash them away by a true reformation; and there­fore by striving to defend those things which plaine truth tells us cannot bee maintained, they bring an un­just praejudice upon the ho­nest and true part of their con­troversie.

There is a great affinitie betweene all sorts of Lear­ [...]ing; and the same affecti­ons which trouble Divines, doe fall upon the other stu­dies of the Muses; especial­ly that custome of insisting up­on learned Controversies, and [Page 222] bringing them almost to plaine hatred. The wrang­lings of Lawyers doe grow even almost to uncivill words, threatning to each other the whip in our Age. Physicke is divided into sects with grea­ter obstinacy; because they hunt for fame not onely for their owne glory, but to gaine wealth; nor are theyr con­troversies ever in jest, or for pleasure onely, whilest sicke men must undeservedly suffer for whatsoever they thinke amisse. But the kindes of all Learned men may bee distin­guished into two rankes: One is of those men which are happie in much know­ledge and erudition, but be­ing polished also with ci­vill [Page 223] disciplines, they doe a­voyd the carelesse vility of Scholasticall manners: The other of those men whose mindes are bent wholly up­on letters, being more con­versant in the rotten foot­steps of Antiquity than in their owne Age; These for the most part are foolish a­broad, and sordid at home. For they know not nor care for any other Elegancy, than that solitary elegance, which they receive from contem­plation of the Muses, and had rather enjoy it so, than make true use of it. Yet may you converse with these men to a great benefit of your selfe, if you know how to extract gold out of their [Page 222] [...] [Page 223] [...] [Page 224] crude and formelesse earth, and make your selfe to shine in those ornaments, which in them are not seene, as covered over with much dust and rubbish. ⸪