The definition of this Philosophie.

OVr new and morall Philoso­phie may thus be defined: A certaine & sound iudgement, howe to liue according to the good grace and fashion of the Court. I am sure this definition cannot bée pleasing to euery one: for some professers of Artes, which peraduenture more subtiller & according to the Stoikes maner, touch things néerer, will say vnto mée, that the same order of liuing can be nothing lesse, or farther vn­like to the propertie of Philosophie: for all Philosophie consisteth in the knowledge of secrete & hidden causes, and in that which no [...]ye can discerne. But to liue Courtly, or ac­cording to the maner of the Court, consisteth in certaine small humanities, and chiefly in outward apparances: wherevnto I will an­swere, that the minor is not true: for though a Courtier may bée knowen by his counte­nance gesture, and behauiour (which is our Philosopher) as they may all other kinde of people, yet the true science cōsisteth not only in the same. But rather it is impossible for any to gouern themselues so well, to haue a [Page 14] Courtly grace & entertainement, if they per­fectlye vnderstande not the opinions of the Court. For (as theyr maister Aristotle sayth) all actions & operations procéede of true vn­derstāding & knowledge: and how may wée be singular in that which we vnderstād not? None therfore cā be a good Courtier, onlesse he vnderstand what pleaseth best & is most liked at y ^e Court: & to giue Beso los manos, after the Spanishe maner, to embrace with lowe reuerence, and to make a braue coūtenance, with other such like, suffiseth not: as I may aptlie applie for example, oure maysters of Artes, who haue mouths to kisse, armes to èmbrace, and faces to countenance, & can do all this well: yet were it straunge to sée one of them in his old girded gowne furred with white, his burnt pantofles, & his night cap of fréese, to fall on dauncing & sporting amōg fayre Ladies. How he would courte it with them, how hee would please and entertaine them, & how he would rauish their bartes or allure them? whē neyther his wanton looke, or smiling cheare, his humble curtesie, nor lowe embracing, (though they would suffer it) would serue him amōg them▪ if he be re­puted wise, or wel learned. And why so? Bi­cause those reuerēces are not wel pleased▪ & [Page 15] beséeme not a man of iudgement and knowledge, too please suche companie. For if hée did, hée woulde bée otherwise apparel­led, and muster in gallanter manner: hée woulde frame a courtlie countenance, and séeme gentle, modest and pleasante, prepa­ring his sprightes to speake and vnderstand nothing but mery & gladsome purposes. And thus finely furnished with his little Page in place of his poore & ragged scholler, he might peraduenture bée welcome. Lette vs then mayneteyne and holde this for a maxime or principle, that to gouerne our selues accor­ding to the Courte, wée oughte and muste haue the true vnderstanding of the opinions of the Courte, & vertues of the same, whiche obtayned, will make vs in all our actions to be comelie, honest, and ventuouse, and to bée esteemed graue, wise, and sounde of iudge­ment: from the which proceedeth this Deco­rum generale, generall comelinesse, that Cicero speaketh so much of in his Offices: & sayeth, that it may better be conceiued in imagina­tion, than vttered by cunning: whiche wée maye nowe terme the good grace of euery one, whereof wée wyll treate more heere­after. So that yf anye woulde indeuer them selues to doe suche things, and wante [Page 16] the true knowledge hereof, they shall fayle of their purpose, while supposing to winne honor and praise, they may cause themselues to bée derided of euery man, as is commonly seene in these rude youthes, & skillesse mini­ons of the Court, great companions & woers of the Citie, Counterfaite Courtiers whiche simper it in outwarde shewe, making pretie mouthes, & marching with a stalking pace like Cranes, spetting ouer their own shoul­der, speaking lispingly, & answering singing­ly, with perfumed gloues vnder their girdels their buskins pinkt & cut, their short clokes, their little cappes, their heare curled after y ^• maner of Cesarea, somtimes a little lōg locke turned vp like a pigs tayle betweene their tēples & the eare: And in this attire, with a word or two of Frēche, Italian, or Spanish, which they cary in their budgettes, they dare deuise with any noble person of the affayres of the realme, & pronoūcing with a maiesty, how the king hath shewed greate fauour to such a gentleman. Of these it may be saide, as heretofore was saide of the Philosopher, hée hath a fayre bearde▪ shaue him, & take a­way all his wisedome. So take frō these mi­nions these kind of habits or apparell which I haue described, and you shall finde them [Page 17] beastes, doltes, loutes and clownes. But though ye do not, those, whose eyes are of rea­sonable iudgement, can discerne them well ynough.

AFter wée haue thus giuen the definition of our Philosophie: & shewed both the ar­gument & reasons, we haue to call these cau­ses so defined Philosophie: It seemeth very méete, to speake of the effect therof, which is vertue. For the end of Morall Philosophie, is grounded onely on vertue: wherevnto none can attaine, but by the meane of this science. And I beleue without searching any further, or making so many distinctions of Genus & Species, as the ouer scrupulous and curious haue doone, that in taking one parte of our former definition, wée haue the same of our vertue. The which by a certaine and shorte diuision, in forme of a description wée shall plainelyer and better shewe hereafter. Ver­tue is a manner of lyuing according too the manner of the Courte, and differeth from the Philosophie of the Auncientes, in that their vertue (as I haue sayde afore) is to liue according to the iustinct of Nature: and ours is too lyue according too the manner of the Courte. And euen as it was aunciently af­firmed, [Page 18] that if wée followe Nature and doe no more than oure naturall reason sheweth vs, wée shoulde neuer doe euill: so, if wée followe the manner and customes, in due and true order of the Courte, wée shall e­uer doe that is séemelye, good, and well. For who is so rashe, foolishe, or madde, that wyll saye any thing is euylidoone, whiche is doone by a Gentleman Courtier, well instructed. Maye wée not then call them beasts, and doltes, which are ignorant of the pryce and valewe of oure Courtly vertue? It makes me remēber the old Atticque, who vnderstoode not the phrases of an eloquente Orator, when hée spake a woord most méete and well placed too the behoofe of the poore beaste: hée scroned him for his labour. The propertie of ignorance is too brutishe and in­tollerable, who as they are not content with that they cannot doe or deuise any thing of themselues: so will they not regarde or e­stéeme that for wel which the wise and lear­ned do say. Héereof it is that Cicero speaketh so much in his oration pro A. Cluen. nighe too the myddest. Therefore seeing the Courte and Courtlye countenance is the onely rule whereby and wherevpon wée muste guyde and frame our life, it is not to bée maruel­led [Page 19] at, if good wyttes wellborne, and desi­rous too attayne to this perfection of vertue. doe earnestlye aske, and diligentlye en­quyre of commers and goers from and too the Courte for newes: What doe they? What saye they? What manner of lyuing is there nowe among them? What sortes of apparell, what sportes, what fashyons newlye forged? who is beste welcome, most regarded, and in greatest estimation? who is most braue? who is the trimmest dauncer, the pleasantest deuyser, and the beste vaw­ter? what authors are moste alowed, what bookes reade they, what songs carryeth the brute? And a thowsande other lyke de­maundes. For howe shoulde wée else nowe knowe the meane of lyuing with the good preceptes and doctrine of the auncient Phi­losophers paste, and chéefelie of those that are not wrytten, or of suche whose bookes are partlye loste, as Pythagoras, Socrates, Cratippus, and others, and of the Noble & va­liant Romanes: if it were not had frō tellers of tales & caryers of newes. Leaue of then to reproue our English men, & to say, that it were requisite and néedeful to place certaine persons in highwaies, that should haue none other occupation, but to report & tell newes [Page 20] too those that passe by: why shoulde their ve­hement desire (not curiositie) to vnderstand newes, which I greatly allow, be any way reproued or touched? And euen as the good and famous lyues of oure elders, whose examples doo greatlye stirre vs vp to ver­tue, woulde bée profitable for vs, yf by wry­ting wée shoulde knowe them, (whiche is the principall argumente whereby Cicero sheweth the benefite and vtilitie of letters, in pleading for the Poet Archias) so howe coulde so manye wyse and honest Philoso­phers of the Courte, serue too the example of those that neuer sawe them: were it not for the reporters and blasers of newes? And further suche reportes encourageth, euen those that are spoken of too indeuour them­selues too doe better: for the Philosophye whereof wée treate, importeth not the same that the Auncientes doothe: who woulde haue vs, withoute any hope of honour too embrace and followe vertue for the loue of hir selfe: but that wée shoulde or oughte too liue vertuously, to the ende to obtayne▪ ho­nor and reputation, as well too oure selues, as to oure posteritie, whereof it is sayde Virtutis merces gloria: Honour is the guer­don and rewarde of Vertue. And truelye [Page 21] I beléeue, if other testimonie might haue bin had of Ciceros conscience (whome I name so oft for the excellencie of the man) than by his owne writings: we should find, that in troth honor made him attempt and execute many things, especially he aboue all the other Ro­maines: which it appeareth he could not al­togither so couertly conceale, by this place last alledged. What shall I saye of poore Ouid, when he was in exile in that barbarous coū ­trie of Scythia neare the Sea coast? hauing there no companie that would commend him when he had made any verses, as they dyd when he was at Rome in his brauerie and full of prche conceytes? he had there no lon­ger courage to do any thing, for his pleasant vayne lefte him, as he doth excellently wryte to Seuerus de Ponto.

Let vs conclude, that the [...]ommoditie of true reporters and faithful coūters of newes, is great, necessarie and profitable to good life. But to returne to oure purpose, the vertue whereof we speake, is whollie set and placed in the court: euen as the same of the aūcients is placed in nature: whiche we maye more better and perfitlier vnderstande, if in follo­wing the precepts and order of such Philoso­phers as are least scrupulous or preci [...]e, we deuide it into foure hyndes▪ as Wisedome, Iustice, Magnanimiste, and Temperance, whiche are the foure fountaines or springs from whence procéedeth the perfection of [...]o­nestie. And though they be so wel lincked to­gether, that the one can not goe without the other (for who will cal any vertuous, be they neuer so profounde and wise, if they be not true and iust?) and that the four together and not one alone, make a man to be accounted wise: yet the diuision and particion is not al­togither vnprofitable, to the ende that by [...] certayne disposition so framed, we maye the easilyer iudge to what parte or place of [Page 23] bonestie euery action ought to be referred, to instructe the rude and learners. For in all sciences, it sufficeth not alone to vnderstande the Arte: but also we ought to haue the Me­thode to teach as Cicero sayth, de le gibus. Non fol [...] scire [...] est, sed quaedant est ars etiam docendi▪ It is better therefore to speake di­stinctly, and by order of euery one of these seuerall kyndes (whereof vertue is compo­si [...] [...]s of an harmonie) than by vndiscrete order or rashe confusion, to speake generally of vertue.

Yet before we enter into priuate or par­ticular iudgement of vertue, and the better to findethe [...]ay [...] into this pleasant Garden, where grosset [...] that greate and fayre tree in whose top [...] is placed: it shall be verie [...] we keepe one pathe, as vpon a planke or brooge, and [...]olde this for a principall poyute that followeth. The Auncientes among other preceptes of theyr Philosophie: the [...]silyer to set foorth and make knowne their vertue, would at the beginning giue this for a maxime, Nos [...] ipsum: knowe thy selfe, affirming, that if by this meane a man once knewe himselfe, the shoulde finde something in him lyke to the Goddes: the which parti­cipation with the deitie, ought to bridle hym [Page 24] with shame from doing euill, and pricke him forward to do well. And there is in this short sentence, and vnder these two wordes, much matter of great efficacie and force: for the better vnderstāding wherof, I wil discharge myselfe by Cicero, in the end of his first boke of lawes. And whereas ours Philosophie springs from an other fountaine than theirs whiche procéedeth onely out of nature, and oures of the contentmente and pleasure of men: So are the wayes sundry to fynde the diuersitie of these two. I thinke it good ther­fore that to come to this perfection of our ver­tue, in stead of knowing ourselues, we ought to sée and knowe the worlde▪ for after a p [...]r­fite iudgement of the whole, we shall the bet­ter vnderstand one part. And when we haue the knowledge of sundrie fashions of liuing▪ the contrarietie of some, and the di [...]orsitie of others, it giueth an intire and true vnderstā ­ding of this: and further, amongst all other the excellencie of this will s [...] mightily draw, and so strongly allure good wittes and gentle courages, that all other orders of life l [...]t and shaken off, they only will followe this, which is the fashions of the Court. But to the [...]nde it may be vnderstanded, what I call seeing of the world, it is not to mounte on horseback [...], [Page 25] and ryde from hence to Paris, and from thence to Rome, from Rome to Mounte Synay, from Mount Synay to seeke S. Patrikes Purgatorie, and from thence to the Antipodes, and so to the Canibales. For to sée the worlde, is not to sée many buildings or countries, or to passe sun­drie Seas, though it be some what to the pur­pose, and that by it maye partly be knowne the same I speake of: yet I meane, séeing of the world is to vnderstande the custome, ly­uing, and maners of sundrie nations, wyth their properties and faculties, and the con­uersation they vse one to the other. And thus may we do and not trauel far for it, as béeing in some famous and notable Citie (wherevn­to is great resorte of diuers stra [...]ngers) we may make a perfit impression in our myn [...]s of that wē sée, and sometimes, it is otherwise attayned vnto by reading in bookes. T [...]e proofe whereof is perceiued by sundrie, wher­of some haue past moste part of the worlde, and mustred in all the Ca [...]pes that haue bin in many yeares, they an accounted to vs the platfor [...]es of Castles, [...]arts, and Churches, [...]he situation of [...], the dis [...]iption of countries, and other notable things, as much as is possible to [...] t [...]ld [...], and as the eye maye at any [...]i [...] f [...]: others that h [...]s their whole [Page 26] life time remaynes at the Courte, at London, at Paris, at V [...]nice, at R [...]ome, at Lyons, at [...]ntwery, and suche frequented Cities, celebrated with mest resorte of people: are notwithstanding very beastes, and haue no more knowledge than a poore peasant, whiche neuer was [...]t of the sight of his parishe steeple, sauing that they can playe on the bytte a litle better, and march more delicately and stately. The rea­son is, for that the one sorte are so abashed & astonied at the suddaine change of those new­eities and rare deuises they see in straunge countries, which seemes to alter in a momēt, that the iudgement of their [...]rightes is ther­by so troubled, as it cannot conc [...]e the per­fection of any thing right: where at they are so lightly moued, as they resemble brainelesse fooles, that run so fast through the [...]reat they regard not what they sée, where they are, nor what place it is they be in. And the others are so accustomed with y ^• sight of [...]ne only thing, that this custome and familiarity of daily see­ing it, doth so weary & dull their minds, that they take no hée de of them, [...] or accounting more of it any way at all, than of that they neuer saw, Hereof it is, that Cice­ro speaketh so much in the. 11. booke de Natura Deorū, giuing this reason, why the Atheistes did [Page 27] not acknowledge y ^• there was but one God by his works, seeing the heauens, the planets & stars, the earth, the elementes, & other won­derfull workes of his, saying: Sed assiduitate quotidiana & consuetudine oculorum assuescunt a­nimi, neque admirantur, neque requirunt rationes earum rerum, quas semper viderunt, perinde quasi no­uitas ipsa nos magis, quam magnitudo rerū debeat ad exquirendas causas excitare. Which is to say: that our senses are so dull and glutted, with that our eyes doe daily see and beholde, as it is no maruell to vs, neither doe we consider howe it cōmes to passe, or howe it was made, nor who is the cause, as thoughe the rarenesse rather than the greatnesse or excellencie of anye thing shoulde make vs the more to wonder. It is then the mynde and imagina­tion of man onely, that seeth and vnderstan­deth any thing in his perfit kinde: the which we should dayly sturre vp, and so accustome with good purposes, that it decaye or ruste not in vs: wherby séeing and discerning with iudgement the maners & liuing of all natiōs, we maye the easilier and truelyer knows ours: And by the same vnderstanding come to the perfection of our vertue. For the good credite and praise whereof, I may boldly say and affirme, that there is no easier meane, [Page 28] nor pleasanter manner of liuing than in dure Philosophie: As for the world past I list not to meddle withall, nor search how the aunci­ent Philosophers (whose doctrine serues litle to our purpose) found or liked it in their days. But sure I am, that time hathe euer since, brought his alteratiō. And as touching death the dissoluer of their Philosophie, to expell the feare of him, they haue spoken marual­lously, and in most of their workes haue pre­scribed the despising of death vnto vs: yet in my opynion it coulde not but greatly gree [...]e them: for the ground and foundation of theyr profession, whiche is nature, was cleane put out and cut off by it. I reporte to Moni [...] ­pus in Lucian, who viewed all that past the floud Acheron to bell: and sawe none but that bashed and were astonied in the going in, ex­cept Diogenes, which did nothing but se [...]ffs and iest at all things: who as he euer contē ­ned life, so was he neuer seene fearefull of death at any time. Most true it is that Socra­tes farre off, had a good courage and séemed to despise it, but when he came to the wicke [...], he chaunged coloure as well as others. Let vs nowe proceede to the purpose, and speake of our vertue in hir seuerall kynds by order, without confusion.

Of Prudence or wisdome.

THis noble Troy wherein (as I haue [...]aide) our vertue is seated, hath foure armes or branches, wherby we must ascend & elimb vp vnto hir: the first principal & chief braunch we cal Prudence, which con­sisteth in a skilful iudgement and knowledge of true things. For it is v [...] possible that by our daily doings, we can wel please the world, if we know not throughly what we do. From this knowledge proceedes the vnderstanding of all Artes and liberall Sciences, whereby we become right Courtiers: As of Musicke, the playing on the [...], the [...], the Ci­trone, the Harpe, the Corne [...], the Flute, the Virginals, the Viall, and other sweete musi­cal instruments Also to daunce all maner of daūces: as the double & simple bra [...]les of Bur­g [...]n [...]e, Po [...]owe and Champanay, the ba [...]e daunce, the Almayne, the [...]allyard▪ the [...], and infinit others, The [...] to compose de­vices, Postes, pleasant purposes, Songs, So [...]e to, and [...], or a [...]orous Lame [...] fa­ctot [...], in pro [...], verse, or ryme, very [...] and in [...]ragie all [...], as [...] the languishing pain [...] of a seruant [...] in [...] ­pleasure, and euill▪ [...]warded of his [...]: [Page 30] Further, it is singular good, to haue some pre­tie sprinckled iudgement in the commō pla­ces and practizes of all the liberall sciences, chapt vp in hot [...]hpot togither, out of the whi­che we may still help ourselues in talke, with apte deuises at assayes, to haue substance and matter to treate of, and encounter with all maner of things, and no mo [...]e. Also to haue store of histories, to passe the time méet for a­ny company, and with the more assured cun­ning to couche our credite, it shall not be a­misse to enterlace our discourses with cer­teine suddaine lyes and inuentions of oure owne forging. Likewise the knowledge of diuers and sundry languages▪ as the spanish, the Frenche, the Italian▪ the Dutche, and o­thers: to the ende that in all these seuerall tongues, we may salute, reioy [...]e, wonder a [...], exclayme vpon, disdayne, sk [...]rne, and [...]o [...]te whome we will. The knowledge of Fence, of va [...]ting, of Tennis, of dauncing, and other sportes of exercise: And some vnderstanding of the state and affayres of the Realm [...], as of warres, of practizes, of marchan­dice, and howe we maye honestly robb [...], deceyue, and make our best profite. And withall, [...]ertayne other small pettie practi­zes and traffiques, that are vsed in the world, [Page 31] in which euery one cou [...]ts to excell, for the co [...]n [...]able consideration that cōmes of it. On the contrarie, such as are ignoraunt in these faculties, and will not endeuer them­selues to haue some smacke or smell in euery one of them, are beas [...]es, doltes, and [...]alues. And for that Vertue is the meane betwéene [...]wo bites, as it is commonly in c [...]ntrarie oc­currences: when the two extremities are knowne, the midst is easily founde, which is our vert [...]e. Prudence then (as we haue said) is the perfite [...]ath way and iudgement to all the artes afore spoken of, wherin is to be vn­derstanded, that I measure this perfection, [...] to the [...]i [...]ure, but reputation of the Court. And he, who is so throughly ex­pert in the sciences, that [...]e knoweth thereby howe to aduaunce his credite and honour, is po [...]te, and wort [...]y to be called wife. But this meane (that I speake of) is so hard to kéep, that there are few which declyne not to the one side or the other. Some beléeuing wel of them selues, that they are singular in these arts, and yet want the true tra [...]e to beginne, weigh things lightly, regarding neither place time, nor counsel: whervpon they are accoū ­ted wilful & ra [...]. Others that would be estée­med more graue & sage th [...] the rest, do muse [Page 32] & breake their braynes with trifling folli [...]s which serue to no purpose, and there aboutes spende inestimable paine & time: & these are too curious. Take therefore the meane be­twéene both, and you shall come to the true and entire knowledge of thinges honest and necessarie: and so you haue oure vertue. From temeritie and rashnesse it is not néed­full to disuade any by morall reasons: for there are so manye infected with this follie, and their wilfulnesse winnes them such con­tempts in the worlde, as they are noted and scoffed at of all men: and I beleeue the wife beware by them since they knowe the reme­die. Walke one night through Paris, and you shall finde a compani [...] of yong gallants, some braue and in good order, and others smothly combed for the purpose, courting and wo­ing their Ladies: and for that they are so vn­skilfull howe the knowledge of this Philoso­phie maye bring them into their mistres fa­ [...]our, beléeue of themselues to be passing ex­cellent and singular good players on the Lute and Gitterne, and do nightly walke the strea­tes before their louers gates, tearing the poor strings of their instrumentes, as it were in despite of Mercurie. Their mistresses [...] of [...]o [...]ylde nature (some suche there are) that [Page 33] they account this the greatest glorie & most delight in the world, to heare how their amo­rous seruantes, with sundrie sorts of musicke present their louing obedience. As it is sayde of a Dame in Rhoane, who to trye the loyaltie of hir Louer, made a crosse with chaulke on hir chamber doore, and enioyned him penāce, nightly to come and kysse it, who was so de­uout that he thought it sacriledge to breake ty [...]e with his mistres: till some merie mate spying and pitying his incessant paine, to fur­ther his deuotion, mending the workeman­ship of this relique with such supple substāce a [...] the poore penitent, hauing bothe his nose and lippes par [...]ell gilt withall, gaue ouer his Pilgrimage for euer. So these pigions holdē thus by the nose, and fed peraduenture with a farewell from some kynde Mistresse, who knowes howe to continue their follie: doe nowe and then méete with odde remembran­ces. As when their ha [...]nt hapneth to be wher dwelleth some braue philosopher of the court, whose delicate eares cannot indure so great iuiurie done to Orpheus, by their disordred ser a pi [...]g and crouding, do blisse them out at their windows with a pifpet, perfuming both the players and their instrumentes, in suche swéete maner, as the gallantes are not heard [Page 34] of in a moneth after. Some other supposing themselues perfit daūcers, for that they haue heard say it is an excellent grace not to séeme to haue care or to thinke of their daunce, do in dauncing before noble damsels, frame their countenance with a counterfet modestie, and letting their cape slip off the one shoulder in shewe their gay ierkins or dublets, kéeping euer this good mean, that it may be supposed they deliuer their trippes and trickes easily, without labour or regarde of theyr daunce, by little and little lets it fall off on the cham­ber floure: And thus the gallants glorying in their own shadowes, tread their two simples with a double tricke, and beleeue they haue done singular lywell, I leaue to common con­iecture, howe the lookers on doe laugh at it. Another poore foole, yet a Gentleman of countenaunce, who thinkes him selfe learned in languages, trauelling by the way, and taking vp his lodging where lieth a Gentlemā Ita­lian, for that he wil séem to haue language, sa­lutes him with Bonne iourne, although it be v [...] ­ry late: the Italian supposing him in a moc­kerie to pronounce Bougeronne, without de­maunding any more, draweth out his r [...]pler: our mynion mated to sée this suddaine furie, not knowing the cause, is cōpelled to defende himselfe: & so they are doth in danger the one [Page 35] to maime or marre the other vpon this fond & foolish quarell. Poore soules haue pacience. & consider howe your ignorance makes you no better than brute beastes. And if I durst speake of Orators, who suppose of thēselues to haue double iudgements in al maner of sci­ences, for one litle word that they would per­fectly to be vnderstand and eloquently vtter, being of small consequence, will trauell so far about for it, that some of them are neuer able to come to their matter againe. And touching Aduocates and lawyers, who will seem with their store of law to carie al before them, whē they vnderstād neither y ^• point, but, nor mark of the cause wherevnto they should tend their talk: which y ^• good scholemaster Quintiliā doth declare: for after (saith he) they haue graue­ly with a long preface pleaded in latine and french iūbled togither, their clients case, in y ^• end Parturiunt mentes. &c. that is, Huge moun­taines trauell with yong, and at length bring forth a sillie Mouse. They open the principall places, & after cōpare the laws, doctors, chap­ters, & cānons togither: yet cōmonly they for­tefie that part most which is least assaulted, & suddenly somtimes ouerthrow thēselues. Ce­pasius maior a Romane, whō Cicero painteth so gallantly pleading for Cluencus, was a cun­ning doer herein.

[Page 36]None can sufficiently declare the great iniu­ries and other inconueniences that chanceth in enterprises of importance, as in the feates of warre and pollicie, in marchandise, in phi­sicke, and diuinitie it selfe, through this rash­nesse: for example, rashe Tylers ofte breake their owne neckes. And to conclude, there are so many examples of rashe, brainesicke, and headstrong people, that their vice is so noted, as it néedes no more reproofe. The remedie to avoyde the falling into the faulte of rashe­nesse, is to consider of all causes not suddenly, but with discretion, deliberation, and good councell.

The other vice and extremitie of Prudence, is Curiositie (as we haue sayde afore) whiche is no lesse daungerous than this last we haue treated of, yet is it much more painefull: for the rashe man executes his determinations and purposes without studie or iudgement, the curious man with great circumstaunce tormentes himselfe daye and night, and both of like substance and profit. The great Phi­losopher Plutarch in a certaine treatise, wherhe defineth what Curiositie is: compareth the curious man to a housholder a very euill husbande, who hath euer his nose out at his windowe, viewing and noting the doings [Page 37] and gouernment of other men, and not re­garding nor hauing eye to his own familie, whose seruantes and varlettesin the meane tyme doe spoyle and robbe him within his doores. That man is double blinde in hys owne euill, that killeth himselfe with o­thers rares, trauelles, and toyles: and yet his busynesse no whit the sooner doone. Wée wyll call him Curious in oure Courtlye Philosophie, that breaks his braines in sear­ching the secretes of suche Artes and Scy­ences, as serue too no purpose for the in­struction of oure lyfe according too vertue, that is too saye, according too the manner of the Courte. Lette vs then consider howe farre suche a one swarueth from Prudence or wisedome: yet there are manye in these dayes that treade the steppes of the auncy­ent Sages, and thereby séeke too attayne to this true and perfect vertue (as they call it) whiche is lodged so hyghlie and statelie, and in a place so harde and daungerous to come too. You shall sée some suche curiouse men in the Courte, solemne, sadde, and melan­cholike, that will not eate but at prescribed houres, they will not speake but when it pleaseth them, they wyll not laughe for the Pope, nor bée subiect too anye Prince or [Page 38] Lorde, bée hée neuer so greate: euer cōtrary­ing & misliking of that which others do: and to conclude, they are not pleasante to anye person. To what ende or purpose serueth this greate curiositie, onelesse it gyueth oc­casion too the worlde, too call them precyse fooles and seruants to Signour Monarche? whē shall they with their glosed hypocrisie ob­teyne the fauour and good reputation of ho­nest Gentlemen and ciuil Courtiers? neuer. If another Diogenes should come amōg them, with his staffe and his wallet, blowing and supping his wortes in his tunne, would not the Pages roll him vp and downe? But if he were a Minippus, or Fryer Iohn of Saincte Anthonies order, they woulde prayse him better. There are to be found infinite num­bers verye curiouse in thousandes of small follies, most vnprofitable and seruing to no purpose, & yet will séeme great wise men & of singular knowledge: as prognosticators, Southsayers, Magiciens, and Alkumistes, notwithstanding these laste haue béene of late, and yet are welcome and well allowed of some for the time. But I beléeue their credit will not haue place long. It suffiseth to knowe so muche of their s [...]iences, as may serue too passe pleasante discourses among [Page 39] companie, and no more. For the reste, it is nothing to our vertue, but rather hindreth and letteth from attayning the true & honest meane that should bring vs to the perfection therof. And thus you haue the summe of that whiche in oure Philosophie is called Pru­dence, or Wisedome.

Of Iustice.

IVstice being next and aduauncing hir self in hir order, is the same vnto the whiche we must referre all our other conclusions, & without the which the whol hath no part in vertue. For to what end or purpose doth the knowledge of any art or science profit vs, if the same be learned onely for fraude and de­ceyte? How may wée iustly call or accompte any of a noble harte and inuincible minde, able too frounte all fortunes, if hée em­ploy and indeuoure himselfe to harme and iniurie others? Are not modeste men and those that dawnte their appetites, and sub­due their affectiōs to reason, worthy to be ter­med Iuste? without Iustice no vertue could cōtinue, stand, or should be supported Ther­fore we ought to take greate paine, & employ all our studies too the true knowledge of hir. [Page 40] And for that she is of so mighty a maiesty as hir braunches cannot in bréefe definition bée cōprehēded, we wil in some sort describe thē. I am not altogither ignorant that y ^e vulgare opinion of Iustice is a sure & perfect mind, to giue and do to euery man, that belōgeth vnto him: which truly is méete & very requisite. But since it séemeth vnto mée, either that it cōprehēdeth much more, or else that it ought not (which belōgs vnto it) to be vnderstāded so generally, as the same shall néede more expositiō or explication thā Iustice hir selfe, I meane not to vse it for a definition. For a beginning or principle it is a true maxime, as Cicero sayeth, & to be considered of, in the whole deduction of Iustice: That it is very good, not to iniury or wrong any. & I thinke for the perfect accōplishment of this vertue, it suffiseth not onely to iniury no person (as we will shew herafter) but we must also en­deuor our selues to doe good to others: yet must we not vnderstande, that in dooing no good where wée ought, though wée take no­thing from him that is his, we do him wrōg: that were a suttell supposer, & suche captious opinions are damnable. For we say not that to leaue pleasuring of him whome wée very wel might pleasure, is doing him any wrōg [Page 41] The Iustice wherof we write, may be diui­ded, though hardly, into Legal & Moral: whose difference cannot without greate difficultie be knowne, for the néernesse of affinitie that is betwéene them, onlesse we make some di­uision, and treate of them seuerallye, to the ende it may bée discerned wherein they bée contrary, and wherin they agrée. All Iustice be it Legall or Moral, is diuided in two kinds: wherof the one propertie or kind is Commu­tatiue, & the other Distributiue: And I beléeue in my opinion, that out of this last Distribu­tiue, Cicero hath drawen liberalitie, which he makes & affirmes to be one part or mēber of Iustice, in his offices. Vnder these two kinds of Iustice, is confirmed, included, & consisteth the whole actes & doings in y ^e mutuall society of mans life. This is the same vertue that is sayd to be the theater or place of humaine fe­lowship, vnder the which all people are boūd & ioyned one with the other, & by the whiche euery one is warned from deuiding & sepa­rating thēselues asunder out of this compa­nie. Notwithstanding, after the time that the good disposition and affection of men, pro­céeding onely of nature, was ouerthrowen and corrupted (as I haue sayde at the be­ginning) and that the Goddesse Astrea had [Page 42] lefte the worlde, for that mankind began to deuide, scatter, and leaue the one the other (as Ouide doth excellently describe in his Meta­morphosis) and that this societie and conuer­sante cōpanying of men lost familiar felow­ship, cleane contrarie to the will and intent of him that placed them héere: It hath bene and is needefull to giue them reynes, & bits, to bridle, bynde, hold in, and entertaine them togither: which are the lawes Ciuill, wher­by such men as at the first of their owne na­turall accorde, were good, iuste, and loyall, are now constrayned to follow Iustice, not hir selfe, for shee hath lefte and forsaken the earthe, but one so like hir as maye bée. And those that lyue and gouerne themselues in suche orderly sorte, as the lawes cannot re­prehend them, nor any way touch them, wée say, to haue in them Iustice Legall: the which howe muche it is different from this firste Iustice, whiche was before the gyuing and constituting of lawes, and that whiche is the same of the Auncient Philosophers, in whose place oures is succéeded, I leaue for this tyme too thinke of. Notwithstanding I may saye thus muche, that the lawes Ci­uill forbidde all offices, so farre onely as [Page 43] they are borne, nourished, and raigne a­mong men. But the Philosophers for­bidde all that they imagine in their mynds too bee contrarye too reason: whiche com­maundementes are ouer strayghte and ry­gorous. This argumente is Ciceros (and therefore I will not séeme too deceyue him) in his Offices, where hée sayeth: Aliter le­ges, aliter Philosophi tollunt astutias: Leges, qua­tenusmanus tenere possunt, Philosophi, quatenus ratione & intelligentia. Nowe further to oure purpose.

Of Justice Legall, and of the Lawes Ciuill.

LEgall Iustice, commeth of obseruing the ciuill lawes, the keepers where­of are called iuste, and good: whiche hathe béene heeretoofore diuyded in Com­mutatiue and Distributiue: wherein wée haue followed the opinion of the aunci­entes, and also of Melancton, that Noble personage and beste Philosopher in oure tyme, as appeareth in one Epitome, whiche hée made of Morall Philosophie, whiche notwithstanding is contrary to this. [Page 44] In this diuision is comprised all that oure Counsellers and lawe makers haue writ­ten: whose volumes, studies, trauelles, and workes beeing gathered togither, haue made an entyer and perfect bodye: yet there haue bene many good doctors, that haue written sundry matters, which smell neither of Cō ­mutatiue nor Distributiue. The Commu­tatiue consysteth in causes touching con­tractes, titles, obligations, and actions: and consequently in the right of any, too knowe who vseth or enioyeth that hée hath rightful­ly or no: who may contract or bargayne, and wherefore wee may contract or no: Of con­tractes, some are voluntarie, as buying, selling, [...]ring, lending, gyuing, and others, of the which doth also procéede supposed con­tractes, whence commeth the ryghte of suc­cession. The others are compelled or con­strayned: as all crymes and offences: so that moste part of the Ciuill lawes are com­prehended in Commutatiue. And it is called Commutatiue, for that the firste kinde of contracting and bargayning, whiche was then in custome and vsage, was com [...] ­tation or exchaunge: For at the begin­ning, before this poysened infection of monie was forged, the good people of the [Page 45] worlde did chaunge that which they might spare, for that they wanted, (and as Ho­mer sayth) there was no talke of buying nor selling, for the price and estimation of pro­fite that grew by the customable encrease of cōtracting & bargayning was not yet knowē to them: but after they had entred the en­trayles of the earth, and broken vp the bow­els of their first mother, and that this thrice mischieuous, insaciable, execrable, and grée­die famine of Golde and Siluer had assaul­ted and vanquished the harts of men, straight way was found the glutted gaine of practise by trafficke, that exchaunge, permutation, & election, had no more place among them: for there was nothing so worthie, holy, god­ly, or religious, that coulde then saue it selfe from the deuouring hurlepitte of greedie gayners.

The other part of Iustice legall, is Distri­butiue, so called, for that it consisteth in distri­buting of honors, dignities, magistrateships, personages, offices benefices, immunities, ex­emptions, priuileges, franchises, and liber­ties, and of all other profites bestowed on persons worthie and well deseruing in pub­like causes: and also, the institution howe such people should gouerne and beare them­selues [Page 46] in these estates and dignities. The which Distributiue, for that it is no other thā the rewarde of vertue, I esteeme to be wor­thie so great commendation and prayse, as nothing more, and therefore at this time wil touche it no further, but repose my selfe on that whiche the noble Orator Demosthenes hath sayde, in the Oration he made of Im­munitie agaynst Leptinus, (who would haue disanulled and taken it away:) where he hath so sagely and profoundly set it out, and with such wise and graue modestie shewed howe we shoulde recompence and regarde wor­thie persons and well deseruers. And I a­mong the rest of the opinions, doe best allow of this: for it is (sayeth he) a most fayre and commendable thing, not by flatterie or fraud, nor by reproch and tyrannie: but rightly and iustly, with our companions, familiars and like, in the lawes and the Citie, to shewe our selues among others to haue deserued some dignitie: which estimation and credit if you take away, take also away your Commonwealth, for so will it be without gouerners & gouernment. Thus haue you of the lawes Ciuill and Legall iustice, so much as serueth to our purpose.

Of morall Iustice.

OVr iustice, wherby we must attaine to our vertue, that is to say, to be wel­tome and well liked euery where, ac­counted wise, and good liuers, according to the maner of the Court, is much otherwyse than the same we haue yet spoken of: as in some places, alowing more liberty, & in some other more strictnesse and scrupulousnesse. And for y ^• it doth extende further than the o­ther vertues (as we haue saide afore) so much is it the harder to shewe and name hir extre­mities: wherin I can say no more, but affirm that whatsoeuer is not done according to our vertue, how, in what sort, or whose act soeuer it be, is no other than manifest wrong and in­iurie. And to speake of Commutatiue, as con­cerning contractes & bargayning one with an other: this must euer be the principle or max­ime, that we ought not to abuse or wrong a­ny: yet by this is to be vnderstanded if the in­iurie be not couered, or hild with some shew, or likelihood of reason (for we are not accusto­med to consider of causes so neare) as what he is, or whether he be honest or no, that ta­keth away or withholdeth the goodes of an other: For it is not onelye sufferable in bargaynyng, in buying, and sellyng, for [Page 48] euery man to make his most profite, be it by fraude or otherwise, but also verie commen­dable. For (the Lawyers say) Licet contra­bentibus, inuicem se d [...]cipere. It is lawfull in buy­ers, sellers, and marchantes, one to deceyue the other. Is not that man worthie then to bée noted an Idiot, and to be banished a commonwealth, who hath apt occasion to deceyue or beguile his companion and mate by any ho­nest meane, and will not do it? he learneth it not by our Philosophie, nor by the Court. We holde this generally as a great argu­ment of our vertue: that it is tollerable to beguile, filch, and cogge, and do the worst we can, so that neither lawe, Iudge, nor iustice may touch or catch holde of vs for it. Nemini enim facit iniuriam, qui suo iure vtitur. He that makes the best of his owne, and mainteynes his owne right, doth wrong to none. And this pre­tert to mainteine our owne right, we giue as a licence to do all things: wherein those that are most subtile, craftie and ouer-reaching, are the best allowed and moste estéemed of. Of whom it is sayde, if they owe any thing they will pay it, and if any owe them, they will likewise looke to be well payed. And touching stryfes, contentions and offences: they are accustomed with this destinction to [Page 49] be defined. Such as blade out their brawles manfully by armes, (whatsoeuer they be, or the cause they fight for) are not only to be ex­cused, but rather to be commended: for com­monly those that mainteyne their matters by the sworde, either defend their persons, or their honour, or they are prouoked and con­streyned vnto it, so that they haue euer suche pretectes, or likely cloakes, vnder which the truth of their faultes and contentions lyeth hidden, and is couched so cunningly, that wée sée them not: also we neuer regarde but the superficial part of any thing, and that which sheweth it selfe vnto vs. As for other offen­ces, as robberies, ciuil iniuries, and such like priuate faultes, they are much more repro­ued & condemned than the rest, for that they haue not these foresayde cloakes and ordina­rie shadowes, without the which, all crymes and offences are more damnable, by oure Philosophie, than by the lawes: For Phi­losophers euer desired a iustice more strict, and a life more iust, than the Lawes do: like­wise Gentlemen, Courtiers, and others of the Court, are not content with a prescribed life, according to the Ciuill lawe: But they will yet adde thereto more. For an euill doer or guiltie persone, at the least fault that hée [Page 50] committeth, toucheth the honour of him that is offended, which is in these dayes the most odious and hatefullest offence that may bée. For none can so slenderly harme or hurte the honour of a Gentleman or Courtier, but the combate must straite be chalenged for want of further proufe, so that for giuing of one lie, it is permitted lawfull and iust to kill a man: for the reproufe of vanitie, and the lye, is the greatest scarre and mayme, that they maye giue to oure honour. Whereby it appeares what estimation we haue of our honour: séeing we are allowed as well to de­fende oure honour, as the auncientes and lawes themselues haue allowed vs to defend our lyues, and not without reason: for honor and reputation is the finall conclusion of our vertue, without the whiche our vertue were of no value. All other offences therefore are lightlyer regarded of vs, than of the Lawes, by reason of their cunning coueryngs, and pretie pretertes, whereof I haue spoken a­fore: except our reputation be touched, for in that cryme wée are nearer gréeued than at any other, wherein I muste néedes say the Lawes haue béene too fauourable. For too knowe what things they are that doe stayne our honour, they may better bée thought off [Page 51] than spoken: yet I will say thus muche be­fore I passe any further, that touching loyal­tie in worde, or humanitie in déede towarde oure equalles or inferi [...]urs, it is nothing so requisite in our iustice as in the Auncientes, where vppon they made theyr fyrst and firme foundation: for it sufficeth vs to holde and kéepe oure worde so farre as the Iudge and Lawe may compell vs to perfourme it. But to promise withoute the compasse and daun­ger of action, is no other than a brauerie, in well promising: wherevnto is applyed the common Preuerbe, that the promise of a Gentleman is holy water of the Court.

Of the seconde part of Iustice which is Distributiue, and of Liberalitie.

THe other part of our Iustice is Distri­butiue, which Cice [...]o properly calleth liberalitie, (and reason good:) for what else is liberalitie, than the bestowing & distri­buting of honors and goods to well deseruing persons? wherin the aunetents did flourish, & made famous their cōmon welthes: & surely in these days, I know no vertue so agréeable to our Philosophie, as this same. For (as I [Page 52] haue often sayde) the summe of our science, and ende of our vertue hir selfe, is the glorie and reputation of anye man: and he which desireth it, and séeketh it, is worthily accoun­ted wise, but he that hath it may be renow­med the happyest man in this worlde, who shal likewise liue for euer here in this world. On the contrarie, they that are carelesse, and account not what is sayde of them, are to be thought eyther blockish or carelesse. Pithago­ras letter could not in these dayes helpe vs to this happinesse: neyther néedes Seneca now to breake our br [...]ynes any more with this song,

For if we be not [...]ous and knowne, wée cannot attain to the perfection of our vertue: as Claudian sheweth in his Countrie dis­course, and this gallant Ouid, that became so wise, after he had receyued correction. Crede mibi, bene quilatuit, bene vixit, & intia Fortunam debet quisque maneresuam.

I leaue therfore this to those that are so déep­ly plunged in wisedome, who agrée all with one cōmon voyce, saying that they are most sage and wise, which shew themselues most meeke and humble: for it is directly repug­nant and contrarye to oure Courtly vertue. Then since honour is the marke whereat we all shoulde tende our desire: is there any readier meane to good reputation, than by liberalitie to destribute oure treasure too all the worlde: to shewe pleasure to all that come: to be fauourable and curteous to eue­ry one: to rescue some from the Prouost and Marshals, & to frée others from being Galli­slaues: & to kéep & feed v. or vj. pore knaues as rauening as woolues: to make feasts, trium­phes, & bankets with open house? no truly.

Of liberalitie.

THis vertue consisteth in the distribu­ting of three things in tēporall goods, and this belongeth to great Lords. In reuerences and honor, and that is the duetie of inferiour companions: and in spirituall gifts, which is the office of those that are lear­ned. As touching y ^• first, the principle which we ought to regarde, is to vse no liberalitie, but to such as deserue it: by whose meanes wée may bée accounted Philosophers▪ of the Court, and worthie of this reputation: To good souldidurs and men of warre that know theyr obedience to theyr Capitaine (and to such as I haue spoken of afore)▪ braue Gen­tlemen, gallant, curteous and ciuil, that haue their hand neuer frō their Cap, and one knée on the grounde, so seruiceable, so obedient▪ with a thousande courtesies, and as manys reuerences: such are worthie the liberalitie of Princes: And not those churlish repyners, vnto whom when you haue giuen the one halfe of your goodes, they will thinke styll you are beholden vnto them, and by circum­staunce refuse youre courtesse, to confirme the more theyr glowming grauitie: and as for receyuing any honour or reuerence of [Page 55] them, it is as muche as nothing: yet will they not sticke too malaperly to checke you, and say you liue [...]uill, and will speake to you as to theyr seruants. To be beneficiall or doe good to these surly sort, is euill done, and is an extremitie of our vertue: whiche wée call prodigalitie, whereof wée maye saye with the good Ennius, Benefacta male locata, male facta arbitror. A good turne euill bestowed, is euill imployed: or a pleasure done to one vnworthie, is a hatefull vice.

The other maxime of our vertue is, too measure liberalitie according to oure facul­tie or abilitye: For none ought too gyue so muche, as hee [...]ee compelled to begge him­selfe after: yet there are some of sundrye opinions▪ that saye withoute respecte or re­garde of goodes and worldlye wealth, wée shoulde not locke vp oure liberalitie, for they goe and come and increase dayly, and that it is better to be poore wyth honour and esti­mation, than riche wyth villanye and re­proute▪ But I am not of theyr opinion. For the Auncientes woulde not, that in pleasu­ring of anye, wée shoulde so [...]nable our [...] owne state, that wée should take away the [...]eane and benefit from ourselues, to be able to be friendly still: we must then gouerne [Page 56] our bounty in such sort, as he doth which she­weth the way to a straunger, or he that ligh­teth an other mans candell at his: for the tea­cher leseth not his knowledge, nor the candel his clearnesse: and I thinke the grauest & wi­sest sort of our Philosophers, wil sonest agrée with me in this. And further, he that is faln [...] in decay, although by the same he haue deser­ued honor, & is estéemed liberal: yet will it be hard for him in his pouertie, to continue that credite, and maintayne that reputation: for we ordinarily disdayne the poore, and those that be in necessitie.

Our thirde Maxime is to ioyne liberalitie with iustice: for it is neither good, cōmenda­ble nor decent, to be bountifull of that be­longs to others, and (as they say) of an other mans leather to cut large thongs: wherein wée must consider of that wée haue spoken of Iustice, that to withholde, or violently too kéepe anye mans goodes from hym, is no o­ther then a gentle brauerie, so that the same bée cloaked and couered wyth some likely­hoode of reason. For (as we haue oft say [...] afore) the semblances and apparaunces of all things cunningly couched, are the p [...]yn­cipall supporters of oure Philosophie: for suche as wée séeme, suche are wée iudged [Page 57] here: for by shiftes and some charge we may peruert iudgements and informations with cunning conueyance, but this is straunge to such as haue not felt the swéetenesse thereof, for we kepe this géere close in our budgets.

Also we ought to regarde, that in the vse of liberalitie eyther wée doe the first plea­sure, or we acquit such good turnes and plea­sures as we haue before receyued: wherein when we render and restore, we must not in any wise shew our selues niggards, nere and sparing: for those obligations of thankful­nesse are no lesse with vs, than if it were in a Ciuill cause. This is a great Argument to be obserued that where wée are liberall, it shoulde bee done so voluntarily, and with so francke a minde, as the name it selfe impor­teth: hauing regarde too consider the con­clusion of euerie Diuisi [...]n, to the ende the better too vse our vertue: what wée are, how able wée are, and what they bée vppon whom wée bestowe anye bountie or plea­sure: eyther oure Parent, Neighbour, fa­miliar or friend, or any other such lyke. In all the Circumstaunces there is one pretex­ed poynt, that séemes of so greate efficacie, as it were a perfite and good loue grounded on vertue: whiche wée sée to be finely flouri­shed [Page 58] in Gentlemen to Gentlemen, and soul­diers to souldiers, when they are all Cour­tiers, or of our Courtly crew, wherein it is not néedfull▪ nearely to regarde or search the occasiō, & causes of such friendship or friendly amitie. For it sufficeth that vpon this foūda­tion of honestie, and Courtly ciuilitie, there be certaine shadowed graces and countenan­ces of weake loue, and faint fauour: whiche may well be called (if the terme were tolle­rable) a fawing flatterie, that tyeth them to­gither with mutuall curtesie.

Of the two other partes of Liberalitie.

THe other two partes of our liberalitie [...] consist in distributing, and hoste wing of Dueties, Honours, and Reuerances▪ whiche belongs to inferiour followers, and to the good felowship of Courtly companions▪ And as for gyuing of aduic [...] and counsell▪ that belongs to the learned and lettered men, be they superiours, equalles, or inferiours. Touching the first, they must [...]ar [...]full [...] re­garde that they be not sparing, slanke or neg­ligent, in lowe [...]ointing and humblie reu [...] ­rencing▪ suche as des [...]ru [...] it▪ For then men [Page 59] might call them eyther arrogant, proude, or ignorant: neyther must they be prodigall to euery man with their salutations, in words or déedes: for so they may be accounted déepe dissemblers, flatterers, or very simple soules. As for y ^• lerned, they should haue care, & part­ly enforce themselues to giue counsell to o­thers: yet not alwayes with the truth, but a [...]ording to the appet [...]e, and pleasure of shose, they speake and giue aduice vnto: for if they holde, follow, and affyrme their owne iudgementes and opinions, howe true and good so euer they bée, they shall be called ob­stinate fooles & wilfull headstrong: & so they can neuer come is the perfectiō of our vertue This is very much vsed in consulting with Lawyers of our right, wh [...] cōmonly frame their councell according to the humor of the partie whō they counsell. This is not onely vsed at these dayes, but in times past Cicero did y ^e same in his pleadings, as himselfe doth witnesse, in his oration for Plancus. In causis (sayth he) adhibemur, vt ea dicamus, non quae nost [...]a auctoritate coastituantur, sed quae ex reipsa causa (que) due an [...]ur. They will haue vs in pleading, not to say at all times what séemes to vs good: but to speake that only which serueth y ^• t [...]me, place, and persons belonging to our purpose. [Page 60] And furthermore: Non solùm meo consilio vti consueui, sed multum etiam eius, quem defendo, & consilio & voluntati obtempero. I haue not (sayth he) beene accustomed to doe all after my owne head or iudgement, but rather applied my selfe to the counsell, will, and opinion of my clyent. I sée none please mée more in this respect, than holye mother Churche men: and not without cause, for moste of them take great payne to attayne to oure vertue. And it shoulde séeme greate iniurie too learning, if the ignoraunt and vnlettered shoulde haue this vertue, too restrayne theyr affecti­ons, to frame and accommodate themsel­ues to the qualitie and condition of those they talke too, better than the learned: much lyke the néedie Norman, that procured him selfe a Prebendshippe, and yet so ignoraunt for learning, as hée could not reade: kept his Hymnes, Houres, and tymes of Seruice with the best: who when a friende of hys saw him chaunting in the Chauncel, & knew his ignorance, asked him how he prayed, and what he sayd: I haue (quoth he) learned the Alphabet or .xxiiij. letters, whereof all pray­ers are made, and them I dayly and wholy deliuer, in my singing and saying to God, who I knowe may make what prayers he [Page 61] will of them: But for the ignorant, we will speake more when we write of modesty. And that whiche wée haue sayde of the liberall in their temporall goods, may serue well for ex­ample to the Clergy, in their spiritual deuoti­ons. Therefore it is néedeles to recyte it any more. And nowe to the twoo extremities of this our vertue.

Prodigalitie and Couetousnesse.

THe distributing of goods & magnificall expēces, is towards vs so gracious, ho­nest, and fauorable, that I know no way how to auoyde the feare of excesse in this vertue, whiche is prodigalitie. And on the other side, the auaricious nigarde and miser is so hate­full and reprochfull to all men: that to shunne and flye the euill opinion of the worlde, tou­ching this vice, wée muste recoyle backe so farre, that wee become as it were somewhat prodigall. And if it bée tollerable too mingle golden gayne and profitee of mony, with ho­nestie (whiche the beste and wisest Philoso­phers past would not do) wée shall prooue and finde the couetous and nigarde to loose more of their goods by their misery, than they kéepe [Page 62] or get by their wretched policye. Therefore whē we sée a churle welthy or rich, we ought not to say that his auarice or néerenesse hath gathered it: For if hée were like liberall to vse it, as he is pining to preserue it, he should by the same (without cōparison) encrease his cofers with treble gayne. For as by his ouer muche care and diligence hee hath gotten it, so by his endlesse follye and feare to loose i [...], hee leaues to imploy it to his greter profite▪ As when hée sayeth,

This is the cou [...]touse cause, hée will buy no more lan [...]s nor beasts, but miserably horde and byde his money in the grounde, or locke it vp for allurement to Theeues. For euen as the ielouse feare of fonde and foolishe hus­bands, makes their wiues the more soughte vnto, shewing by their suspicion signe of some occasion, either y ^• she is willing, or y ^• she loues nothir husband, or else some other cause whiche makes and mou [...]s yong men to enter in assured hope of obtayning their [Page 63] desyre. So likewise, the pyning payne, and so nudging solitarinesse, whiche wée sée the myser and couetous endure too kéepe and garde his goods and treasure, wyth his head still in his cubbarde, and his nose euer in his coffer: stirres vp the hungrie théefe, and showes him, where plentye is to bée pur­chased by his pyking pollicie. Whereof it is commonly spoken: Malus est custos diuturnit a­tis metus, Hee that feareth, looseth. And Ouide writing to the ielious, whiche watche their wiues so narowly, dothe properly say:

For the better example of this, I maye al­leadge the cunning varlet Strophilus in Plau­tus: who séeing the greate payne and toyle that the most vnfortunate Erili [...]s had, in hi­ding his golde, carying it sometime into one place, and sometyme into another, fraughte with continuall feare leaste hée shoude bee spyed, supposing there was good too bee doone, soughte the cause, and fynding the money, robbed hym of it. Lykewyse, [Page 64] the filth of this vice is such, that there is non [...] which hateth not a nigarde, and are glad and desirous too doe him all the displeasure that may be: so that he lacketh the grace and good wil of others, wherby he might make a more profit. For (as Cicero sayeth) Rerum omnium nec aptius quicquam est ad opes tuendas as tenendas, quàm diligi, nec alienius quàm timere. There is no meane more profitable to man to make him riche, and better to garde his goods, than to de­serue the fauor and loue of euery one: nor a­ny thing more contrary, than to haue fewe friends, and be in continuall feare. We reade amongest the Romanes of one named Ma­mercus, a riche man and of greate credit, who for that he did nothing magnifically or sump­tuously, whilst hee was Edile, (according too their custome) fell into the slaunder and re­proche of auarice and couetousnesse: for the which he was so euill beloued of the people, that after, hée following the dignitie of the Consulship, for this onely cause they refused him. And if we will consider from the begin­ning to our tyme, what estimation was ther [...]uer had of a couetous man? what sayeth all the worlde of a miser? the villaine will not giue a glasse of wine to any of credit or hone­stie: or (as our prouerb is,) he will not parts [Page 65] from the dropping of his nose: hée dare kéepe no companie for feare of spending: hée dooth no good to himselfe, nor to any other: hée ea­teth his otes in his owne sacke: he neuer fe­deth but in his bosome: & many other suche like hatefull reproches. In so muche, that there is no Gentleman, how noble-borne [...]o euer hée bée, that is not reputed and accomp­ted a villaine, if he giue at any time neuer so little occasion to be séene in any thing mise­rable or pinching. So that I rather allowe, and better agrée with them, who haue theyr hartes so noble, their mindes so franke, and their sprightes so glorious, that they will so­ner cōsume their goods in braueries, pomps, and magnificall expences, than to bee slaun­derouslye touched with nigardnesse or mise­rie. Couetousnesse commonly is hated in all persons, but chéefely in Princes and greate Lords, to whome it is moste conuenient and seeming of all others, to exercise bountie and liberalitie, where otherwise, the continuall taking & receyuing of their right from their Subiectes, without giuing, dispersing, and distributing agayne, in processe of time they shall find themselues to haue neither tribute to receyue, nor subiect to pay it. For who cā better dispose of goods (whiche that nobleman [Page 66] Plato would haue had cōmon) thā those that haue them? Howe shall men of vertue and valure, good companions, and small mates, come by any parte or por [...]ion, if there be not bountifull giuers? following this opinion, some will say and mainteyne, that the riche & couetous are théeues, in making that pry­uate & their proper owne, which shoulde bée common to all men. It is not then without cause, that this vice is so much hated of vs, & banished from our cōpany, wherein there is nothing so displeasant, as not to be glad and willing to doe pleasure. And therefore, howe much the infamy of it is greate, so much the rather should we withdrawe our selues, and shunne the chaunce of such extremities, euē with y ^• lesse of our goods, or rather (as I haue sayd) to be reputed prodigall. For y ^e prodigall are more excusable, without cōparisō, in our vertue, then y ^e couetous. And if we will well consider of it, we shall finde none so prodigall (& therfore the more reprouable) as the aua­ricious. For what may be greater prodigali­tie, than to gather togither, and laye vp the goods of this commonaltie: and to take away from a cōmon wealth the faculty to vse it, & by that meane to lose it, and (as it is sayde) cast it into the Sea? for if the goods of a my­ser [Page 67] bée not loste from the profiting of a com­mō wealth, at the least for his lyfe, I cannot tell what may bee accompted more lost. For hee pleasureth his friendes, and benefiteth himselfe as much with that he hath, as with that he hath not, and his riches are to him as to others, no riches at all▪ Wherby it is spo­ken: Tam deest auaro quod habet, quàm quod non habet: The auaricious hath no lesse neede of that he hath, than of that he hath not. Then if his goods serue too no purpose, neyther too himselfe, nor in the fellowshippe of men: we muste accompt it loste, and béeing loste, wée may cleerelie perceyue, that the auaricious and miser, is the true and perfite prodigall. But to the end we will not séeme to allowe vnmeasurable expēces, we will giue boūds, confines, and limits to liberalitie. Cicero in his offices sayth, We ought not to gyue any thing, except it be either profitable or neces­sarie. So that profit and necessity be the two bounds of this vertue, which ouerpassed any way, we become presētly prodigall. But tru­ly if we should thus strictly cōprehend all, we s [...]al make most part of our courtiers, & y ^e best praised, wilfull wasters, whō we not with­stāding esteme very wise. For not only those which cōsume their welth, or make sōtimes [Page 68] magnificencie without profite, cause, or ne­cessitie, are not alone pronounced prodigall: But this vnquenche able heate, and vnsatia­ble desire of glory, the whiche withoute all iudgemente and consideration constraynes them to doe it, is honest, [...]d commeth of so good a nature, that there is attributed vn­to them, a vertue more greate than libe­ralitie, which is called Magnificencie, wher­of comes this tytle so excellent of magni­call. And moste truelye when the intenti­on and good wyll of any person dothe fynde and féele that whiche hee doothe good or e­uill, suche magnificencie is muche to bee praysed, proceeding from [...]o greate a loue of oure vertue, and from suche affection too pleasure others, that they haue no ley­sure too thinke of nor consyd [...]r all the ma­ximes and circumstances: the whiche feru­pulouslye the Auncientes woulde haue vs obserue and kéepe in this liberalitie. And further, wée that doe long looke or muche muse on things secrete and hydden, but re­garding the superficiall parte and the out­warde appearance of theyr déedes, séeing that by suche magnificencie they shewe them selues of minde the liberalleste that maye bée: not considering the vtilitye, [Page 69] profite, or necessitie, cunningly couched, and well couered ouer: howe can we but iudge of such people all good and all honor? leaue we thē that same Valerie the great talker of libe­ralitie, when he sayth, that the two fountains from whence she cōmes, is true iudgemente and honest good will: for the ardent affection and hote desire to be praysed of all men, can not discerne this, nor will not be so scrupu­lous, to consider of circumstances so farre off. Let vs compare in semblable cases, the mu­tuall loue betwéen the father and his childrē, and we shall sée sometime the feruencie ther­of to be so great, that without consideration (meaning them well,) they doe marre and spoyle them, not hauing their iudgement cer­taine by reason of this ouermuch affection, to discerne what is good or euill for them. Is such loue and friendship to be blamed with vs? Is it not true affection? yes verely, al­though some others call it a cockering: So that if any will nearer regard the profit of the one or the other, if this amitie do not earnest­ly appeare therein, it can not be perfit. Euen so let vs iudge of the magnificall man, who if he should consider with himselfe, how pro­fitable it were for him to do that he determi­neth: would they not say, his deliberation [Page 70] smelt of miser is? and how he had great [...]are to lose that he mean [...] to lay out? It is not at this time only, or in these dayes, y ^• our vertue hath bin so measured. For do not the noble & ancient Romains glorie to be atrbūted mag­nificall? Was it neede full or profitable, to cut mountaines, and to make of [...] in the s [...]a a fyrme lande? Was it requisit euerie mor­ning to [...] that came & sayd, god mor [...] ow my Lorde, to giue and distribute such great s [...] ­mes of money as they did? whereof [...]all doth well report. What should I speake par­ticularly of Pompe, of the Th [...]aters, the Triumphant Gates and Temples that he builded? Is not the magnific [...]ncie of [...] knowne by his [...]ump [...]u [...]s gardens and gal­leries? For this cause onely we haue them as a president of perpetuall memorie, and there is none of our Philosophers that dothe not with great diligence endeuer hym s [...]e to imitate and followe them, chiefly in th [...]yr Antiquities. The honour of the Romaines was so great for theyr haught courages and magnificall myndes: as all Italie is yet proud of it. And if we maye after them speake of oure selues, shall we not fynde among vs in our tyme, some whose sumptuous expen­ses haue gayned them great [...]ame? Let vs [Page 71] consider of the noble doctors and professed masters in our Philosophie, whom we haue before our eyes for example, whom we must followe and allowe in all, whose authoritie ought to satisfie vs for reason, as well as that same of Pithagoras did satisfie h [...]s Disciples: he sayde it euen so of these: they haue done it, i [...] ought not to be argued or doubted, whe­ther it be well or séemely done. We muste vnderstande▪ that in their liberalities, they manye times consider not what is moste méete, profitable, or necessarie, but that their magnificencie maye be the more extolled. And notwithstanding that suche sumptu­ousnesse are not euer good; commendable, and according to vertue: yet haue they great reason so to doe. For (as Theophrastes saythe in hys booke of Ryches) suche mag­nificalnesse, is the profite and reuenewe, that we receyue of the goodes we haue, without the whiche (the necessitie to lyue excepted) I estéeme and allowe as well of pouertye as of ryches. Notwithstanding, I knowe verye well, that Cicero, in hys seconde Booke of Offices, lyked not of it: nor Aristotle, who d [...]ryding vs, for that we wonder to heare howe that in the war­res, sometymes in a besyeged Towne or [Page 72] Citie, we will giue a [...]esterne for a small ves­sell of water, and consider not that without necessitie (hauing both body and mynde at li­bertie) we account not to consume muche money for nothing. So eueryone hath his owne opinion, and they be not altogither al­lowed and approued of vs: for there is not so meane a Courtier that delightes not to make some idle expences, to the end to appear ma­gnificall. And whereas in loue matters eue­ry one principally endeuers him self to seeme wyse, ciuil, and best worthy, and such we will here take him. Let vs imagine the represen­ting of two Louers of some continuance be­fore vs, and consider among▪ all others, tou­ching this our vertue, how they gouerne and behaue them selues. We shall see the yong gallant, that (without any consideration of profit or necessitie) can not finde robes richy­nough, nor sufficient sumpt [...]ous apparell for to pranke himselfe withall▪ neither rings newe made, or iewels new fashioned for his mistres: nor daintie meates exquisit and de­licate though to bancket hir. And she for hir part, in euery paynt indeuers hir selfe to do the same. And though peraduenture neither the one nor the other can accomplishe their whole desire, for their poore purse ruthfully [Page 73] plenished: yet they will so do, that their talk shall not tast or smell of any thing but all of magnificalnesse, for in this vertue consisteth their honor or dignitie. I remember me of poore Clitipho in Terence who had a sumptu­ous louer and of a haughtie heart, and coulde not wring from his father, being olde, coue­tous, and hard, sufficient money to furnishe hir, vsed priuatly to cōplaine, & would oft de­bate alone, howe he should gouerne with cre­dit, the countenannce of his loue, concluded thus in himselfe, saying: Ni [...]il essemihi, religio est dicere. I make it (saith he) conscience to tell hir that I haue nothing for hir. Whereby we may see, hol [...] [...] was it séeme co­uetous or néedie, and yet had no meane to shewe himself magnificall: so muche is this vertue commendable. The olde myserable louer in the Comedie of Intronati, did not so, for he was bountifull in perfuming his gray bea [...]de, when he was at the cost to be­stow a peny worth of Ce [...]it, to besméere him­selfe withall: But God knowes howe his Varlet mocked and laughed at him. And as Ouid, writing to a couetous damfell, shewing hir howe he could no longer loue hir, for that she was subiecte to gayne and luker, sayth:

Hereby you may perfectly perceyue, what vigour or force there is in liberalitie and magnificencie, to winne the grace and fauour of euery body: yet I knowe there are mer­cinarie mynions, which make no little luker of their lecherie: but this must not be thou­ght to be loue, that is▪ thus lodged in their la­ciuious heartes. It is not euill seeming to a woman to receyue gyftes of hir louer, though it be ill seeming for hir to demaund: as their good Master Ouid declareth.

Nec dare, s [...]d pretium poscided ignor, & odi▪

It offendeth me not (sayth he) to giue, but it gréeueth me when they aske, and that mis­likes me most. Was Lays of Corinth, eyther wife or of good grace, to demaunde so manye Crounes of Demosthenes. he allowes of it so well, that he woulde not after heare hir speake, nor giue him selfe to great occasion of repentance. Notwithstanding the dan­ger [Page 75] is greate, (and especially to persons of noble myndes, and affected to our Philoso­phie,) that the Lawes ciuil haue prouided for it: Considering that it is a great interest to the common weale, to haue many poore and needie Citizens: and that the ryches of the Prince, consisteth not so much in his coffers, as in the ryches of hys subiectes, they would that he who is seene or supposed to gouerne hym selfe riot [...]ously, or to lyue so disorderly as he myghte thereby after become needie, shoude haue an ouerseer, and not accordingly or indistinctly of hym y ^• magnifically makes vnprofitable expences: for if it were so, there would not be found in all Fraunce ouerséers sufficient. Thus wee ought to vnderstande this sentence, Interest Reipub ne quis re suama­le vtatur. It behoues the common weale to see, that none applye his goodes euill. For we muste thinke that otherwise the Lawes or Princes woulde forbid these magnifycall expences, as euill of it selfe, and not accor­ding to vertue.

Euen as one named Marcus Opius made a Law, that the Romane Ladies should vse no superfluous apparel, nor wear at their eares any Kyng or Gemme of gold, weying more than an ounce, as recyteth Pomponius Letus, [Page 76] of the lawes of Rome: this lawe was ma [...]e for feare the Romanes had, least by such sun­dry ornamentes their wiues should be come lasciuious. It may be also considered, of that the Emperoure Iustinian did forbid to some sort of persons, that they shoulde not weare certaine coloured and wrought clothes: [...]s of late, the french king prohibited gentle womē and Citizens▪ wiues from wearing certaine ornamentes and attire of golde (the whiche the Dames of Lions did much murmure and grudge at) and all is but for the causes before mencioned: for order & pollicie in the distinc­tion and difference of apparell, according to the maiestie▪ and qu [...]litie [...] the person▪ [...] of great authoritie and force.

Of Magnanimitie.

WE are nowe mounted very highe, and attained near to the throne where our vertue is seated: and for that she hath reposed hir self in a place hard to come to; ac­cording to this good sentence of ISocrates: Vin­tutis radix anara, fructus vero dulces: The roote of Vertue is bitter, but the fruites are sweete and good: therefore is it, that the nearer we ap­proch vnto hir, the more euill, vntoward and [Page 77] sharpe do we finde the way, vntil we obtaine the perfit place i [...] selfe: which when we haue w [...]nne, nothing will be hard and wearisome vnto vs. I say this, meaning to speak of mag­nanimitie, wh [...]h is the same that makes vs so strong & assu [...]ed, that nothing in the world (be it neuer so deficile or difficate,) can force or driue our [...] to declyne from the way of vertue. It is not then without cause called Magnanimitie, and those that professe it and embrace it magnificall: which is to say, of a noble, bountifull, and honorable hart: For what greater excellencie can the spirite pos­sesse or e [...]idye, t [...]an to be still accompanied with [...] like it selfe▪ And for any accident, inconuenience, or misfortune that shall happen, not to be troubled or vnquieted, but so to remayne and abyde euer firme and constant? One great argument of the preci­ous value of this vertue is, that amongst all other things which are common as well to man as to woman, this is only made proper and incident to men, and contrari wise, sickle­nesse and inconstancie to women: Of the which cōmon opinion many men are proud, and so content▪ that for this cause alone they suppose the better of themselues, and will be accounted wise: dis [...]ayning and contemning [Page 78] to heare the argumente of a woman, as though she were a brutishe and vnreasona­ble creature: condemning their sundr [...]e follies, as subduers and vang [...]ishers of reason in themselues, when such defectes of nature be in both the one and the other. The daugh­ter of Hortensiu [...] a Romaine Orator, hath by hir singular vertues well moued, that women are capable of reason▪ [...]owe he it▪ that by meane of a naturall▪ weakenesse, which is féebled in them for want of instruc­tions and doctri [...]es, they haue not the vse of it so familiarly. Man chalenging magnani­mitie then as proper to him selfe shoulde [...]a­not estéeme it a great iniuris▪ that be should be so delicate, effeminate, variable, and in­constant? If we shoulde see a man marche through the streate at noone dayes, in the ha­bites and attire of a woman, woulde not the world mocke him? And yet to knowe a man, without the same outward shew and appea­rance to be a woman in déede, as was Her­maphrodites, there is nothing sayde of hym. Wherfore do we reproue Hercules, when he shrouded himselfe among handmaydes, but onely for that he left his manly courage, and yelded to womanly weakenesse: with the which attire, he could neuer frame himselfe [Page 79] to any thing or other purpose, but to beare the distaffe? It is not po [...]ible for those, who haue then spirites weake and féeble in following this vertue, to attaine good re­nowme, or [...]e any valiaunt a [...]e of value, what countenance or braucrie [...]o euer they make. This is she answere that Helen made to Paris, when he persuaded hir to go to Troy with him, and to feare nothing, vaunting him selfe to be the valia [...]ntest and noblest warriour in the worlde. She séeing him so lapt and lin [...]kt in loue, and enchaunted so farre from that he would séeme or professed▪ that he had no more the countenaunce of [...], sa [...] de to him▪

[Page 80]I would gladly esteeme and regarde loue, if it were not the ground and cause of all this euill, and that it woulde not force and con­straine the courage of man, to serue and be­come vassall to feminine fragilitié: or would prayse greatly women, if they loued more, and delighted more in the vertues of theyr friendes and louers, rather than in a forte of counterfet curiosities. But the doctrine of this great Courtisane in his Art of loue can not lie: Parua leues capiunt animos: Houering myndes haue no hold, and light spirites are best pleased with trifling follies. There is nothing more vndecent or vnsitting to a man, than to be no man. I knowe notwithstanding, ou [...] Philosophie, and that good grace whereof we will speake heereafter, will not suffer vs that among women we shoulde be still Platons: nor likewise haue vs in euery place to gouern our selues, as it were still in the companie o [...] women. The considerations of the circum­stances, as of the time, the place, the persons, and others (which is proper to prudence) will kéepe vs from this euill, wherein it is neces­sarie to haue this good grace. And the larglier to treate of this kynde, to the ende more clearely to shewe what she is: we must re­peate the same so oft spoken of afore, that the [Page 81] end of all our Philosophie and vertue (that is to liue according to the manner of the Court) is honour and good reputation: without the which, I sée nothing that should so much stir or prouoke vs to great trauell, and so tormēt vs in this world, as that. For (as Cicero faith which was not still Academious) Nullam aliam periculorum & labo [...]um mercedem▪ virtus deside­rat, quàm laudis & gloriae: qua quadetractat [...], quid est, quod in hoc breuissimo vitae curriculo tammiserènos exerceamus? Vertue will haue no other recom­pence for hir paines and dangers, than praise and honor, without the which why should we ende­uer so great trauell, in this short and fleeting time of our most w [...]etched and unhappie life? Leaue therefore such as speake otherwise of Vertue. Séeing honor then is the butte and marke whervnto the Sages tended their desire, and the only cause that makes man happy, should we not cōtemne all, neglect, despise, & forsake all other things to come to this? Yes truely. Beholde here the definition of our Magnani­mitie to do good to parent or friende, further than the same is honorable vnto vs. And to feare no daunger be it neuer so greate, that shoulde hinder any actions, whereby it maye attaine to this perfection. By this I meane not, that no payne should be takē to get goods, [Page 82] or that we should not vse our pleasure, or re­uerence our parents, entertaine our friends▪ loue God, and hate the Diuell: But I saye and affirme, that if any of these be to hinder or lesse our honour, we shoulde leaue them and not regarde them: for that man is not magnifycall that preferreth the slendes pleasure of suche small try [...]ng thyngs, to the great value and [...]yches of honour. In this the Romaines excelled, whose haughtie heartes and loftie courages so muche imprinted this vertue in the myndes and spyrites of all the Countrie, that yet to this daye to theyr po­steritie it is a great pleasure and glorye, as it maye easilye be [...] by the [...] [...]oun [...] ­naunces, that smelleth still of libertie, a contemning of all thinges, a desyre to at­chieue vertuous actes, and an vncredible patience. There is no iudgemente of the affections and inward dispositions of anye, more certayne than by the outwarde coun­tenaunce and open shewe of oure lyuing. For as it is sayde, Abeunt studia in mores: Oure studies and affections are transformed into manners. Whereof commeth oure or­dinarie graces, gestures, and countenaun­ces, whiche is easylye séene and knowne [Page 83] in all oure actes. And thoughe particularly e [...]rye one dothe enforce hym selfe to dis­semble and disg [...]i [...]e hys proper affections, as muche for the ignoraunce of those he is conuersaun [...] wyth, as sometymes for hys owne imperfections whyche hee woulde haue secrete or [...]d (wherein principallye consisteth a good grace, as wée wyll shewe héereafter) notwythstanding this dissimn­lation is no practy [...]e of the affectious and opynions, common to anye one Nation, Prouince, or Countrey, or to anye one certayne state of persons what so euer. For suche affections causeth in vs one cer­tayne manner of [...] ( [...] [...] I haue sayde) by the whiche cou [...]n [...]onlye euerye one in hys countenaunce will be knowne what hée is, and from whence hée is. Where­by wée maye well discerue the Italyan, the Frenche man, and the Almayne, one from the other, and by theyr gestures and countenaunces onely.

And for as muche as suche opynions and manners of lyuing generally, are the more harde to be taken from vs, béeing so déepe rooted in, vs by continuance, as they are turned into nature: So muche the [Page 84] more ought they to be estéemed, that accor­ding to the e [...]igent of euery cause, for theyr honor or profite, can séeme to be of any other nation, estate or condition than they are. The which we dayly sée do attaine great reputa­tion; and atchieue their enterprizes worthy­ly: as maye perfectly be perceiued, in those that are spyes in the wars, an example meete and sufficient for this purpose, though they in the execution be not regarded nor estéemed as they ought. On the contrarie, the most [...] part of people, albeit they haue the wisdoms to knowe where and when to dissemble, and that they are so magnificall and modest, as they thinke: to do well: yet are they masked in so many follies and fond loue of their coū ­tries, and are in so great a gealosy of their do­ings, that notwithstanding any honor, repu­tation, or profite, might happen them by this dissimulation, they wil still be like thēselues: estéeming it a great offence, to vse any fashi­on not in custome among them, for feare to be iudged of any other nation than they are: And will be offended, if by them the stranger knowe not the vices and imperfectious of his countrie. But to returne to our purpose, the Romāines haue so flourished in this vertue, that they estéemed nothing for euill but disho­nor: [Page 85] and regarded nothing for good, but ho­nor & reputation. And although there were many Philosophers that spake otherwise of this vertue than we doe, saying that good­nesse & honestie consisteth else where, which we alow no [...] ▪ let them know that the most part are with vs, and of ours, affirming the onely bountie & vertue hir selfe to bée in the good reputation of men: for the whiche the greatest paynes, trauelles, and tormentes, were most delyghtfull pleasures vnto them. And not withoute cause. For if wee haue care too keepe cleane, neate, and orderlye, oure outwarde bodie, regarding that it bee not bounde [...]o any [...]: we should be muche more vigilante, to sée that oure in­warde spright receyue no villanie touched with dishonor. Among all the remembred hi­stories of noble and famous Ladies, I wyll speake but of one, named Lucrece, who to de­face the little dishonor she had suffred by hir rauishment, killed hir selfe. What hart of a woman had she? was it not vertuously done in regard of hir honor, to leaue life, & despise death, nothing remebring the will of God? who woulde not (as shee knewe, and as the world was thē of opinion) y ^• the soule should passe out of the [...]die, without leaue of him [Page 86] that placed it there: no [...]ore than a Soul­dier may departe from vnder his ensighe [...] oute of the Campe, withoute licence of his Captaine. It is [...] to be [...] at, ie ie­lious fowles, and s [...]spicious pa [...]es doe commonly gyue their wiues the picture of Lu­ [...]r [...]ce killing hi [...] selfe. For the example▪ (as they suppose) may strongly and straungely moue them▪ and also their wiues thēselues haue greate delight to behold the same.

Wée muste not forget one notable poynt, in this vertue: For Cicero in his firste bóoke of Offices sayeth, that commonlie haught y ^• mindes and inuincible courages, fall into déepe desire▪ of glory, and g [...] affection of gouernmen [...]e, whereby they bée prouo­ked, stirred, and occasioned to doe euill▪ so as incontinent they leaue and forsake this vertue. For (as wée haue fay [...]e a [...]ore) if shée become straunge, and con [...]rarie too Iu­stic [...] ▪ shée is [...]o better than [...]y [...], boldnesse and [...]: yet for that wée measure not Iustice to strictly as they haue done, so mu [...]h the lesse wee oughte, or [...]ee [...] [...]oo feare this consequent [...] ▪ And further, if the [...]de of man bée no [...] [...]ftye and [...] hée [...]ll very hardlye and with [...], [...]e­come magnificall▪ Fo [...] what is [...]t that [...]ld [Page 87] encourage vs too contemne so many thing [...] ▪ and too bée strong and constante in indu­ring all▪ if it were not the desire and hope of glorie▪ whiche is the onely ende of oure Philosophie? Also who is too bee founde so senselesse▪ blockishe or voyde of reason▪ that hauing atchieued any valiant acte, or worthilye▪ perfourmed any notable enter­prise is not gladde and desyrous of renew­med prayse? The Gods be so ielous of them­selues▪ that they wyll and commaunde to be incessantly▪ honored: As Ouid writeth to C [...]s [...] in his second booke de Tristibus:

Cicero likewise thinking of himselfe, and applying vertue according too his affection▪ chaunged his opinion▪ and acknowledged the debte: as wée haue noted at the be­ginning of this worke. The d [...]sire of glo­ry is so naturallye bo [...]ne▪ an [...] nourished [...]ithin oure myndes▪ that wée ma [...]e well maintayne and appróoue [...], that th [...] Phi­losophye is in some soote grounded on [Page 88] Nature, as well as the same of the auncy [...]ntes. There is none▪ who haue occasion to be praysed for [...]ny excellencie, eyther by na­ture, accident, education, or industrie, that is not wylling and desirous to bée spoken of. It may bée aptlye séene in women, who al­thoughe they bée naturally bashefull, shame▪ fast▪ and modeste, and that they dare not so boldlye shewe their affections as men: yet they cannot so dissemble, but that they séeme gladde, and reioyce too bée called fayre, and for the same are not a lyttle glorious. As the Poet that knewe them so well, affirmes of them,

This desire of▪ glory notwithstanding should not be inordinate, for so might it blynde▪ the [Page 89] iudgemente in suche vayne sorte, that the true vse and knowledge of it woulde leaue vs: whereby it commonlye happeneth, that those whiche are sottes in déede, and not gloriouse, supposing too doe worthilye and honestlye, (whereof myght proceede a kynde of prayse and glorye) doe it so foo­lishly, that they are as they deserue, mo [...] ­ked of the people. And surelye I doe not a lyttle lamente, too sée this erroure so com­mon in all men. Therefore wée describe suche gallauntes by the glorious Souldiers, in the Poets Com [...]dies, who were so meshed in this kynde of follie, that they knewe nei­ther what they sayde▪ nor what they did▪ As he that vaunted the King coulde no way hée without him, howe he gouerned all, and that there was none but loued & reuerenced him, saying thus to his seruant▪

And he yet more foole in Plautus, whome his malapar [...]e [...]q [...]e made tóo beléeue that all women accomp [...]ed him so fayre, as they ran [Page 90] in euery place after him. The patche suppo­sing it to be true, sayd: Nimia est miseria pul­chrū esse hominē nimis. It is (sayeth he) a greate paine to be an ouer fayre man. Héereby wée perceiue y ^• to be glorious is not euill, so y ^e vse of it be not matched with folly. Cicero in his Offices sheweth, how the magnificall man should not be melācholy or angry, & that ma­gnanimitie doth principallie consist in y ^• bri­deling of this affection, for bicause (as hée af­firmeth in his T [...]s [...]ulans) it troubleth & [...] ­reth y ^• min [...] more thā an other passion. And Plutarche in his treatise of Tēperance decla­reth y ^• those whiche are delicatlye nourished, are most subiect to fre & [...] [...]s, & sonest an­gr [...]. The fury of this passion was well seene by Hec [...]ba in Eurypides, and by Progne and P [...]i [...]omela in Quids Me [...]amorphosis▪ Notwith­standing this argument whatsoeuer it plea­sed them to say, we are of contrary opinion: that i [...] anye Gentleman or Courtyer bée wronged, cheefly when the outrage toucheth his honor or reputation, and hee seeme no [...] to take the matter in greate gréese, althoughe [...] can dissemble, hée is not valiant nor ma­g [...]icall. And those that moste [...] [...]e fume in any suche quarell, are men of mo [...] courage, and thoughte ha [...]yest of harte. [Page 91] So that sundry are proude to say, I am cho­lericke of Nature, and accompt of this as a vertue.

Of Temperance.

THe last fountaine from whence flow­eth the perfeaction of [...]onestie, is that that gyueth force and light to others, without whiche nothing can bée well doone▪ And is called Tempera [...]ce, whiche is a mo­deration of perturbations and troubles of the mynde, and a measurable mildnesse or meane in all things▪ Wherof I can particu­lie speake no more, but that it very [...]re cō ­prehendeth all the reste, and is the princi­pall spring from whence [...] all gold be­hau [...]our. The modest man is hée that plea­seth [...]uery man, who tak [...]th nothing in ma­lice or displeasure, and frames his quietnesse to all purposes. On the cōtrary, he that doth arrogantlye impresse in his sprightes his first opinions and imaginations, & will not any way yeeld to reasonable chaunge, is ha­ted of all men▪ And of him it is sayde: Malum consilium quod mutori non potest▪ The counsel of that man is euill, which may not bee alter [...]d: For althoughe suche aduyce bée good and reasonable▪ yet it muste bée moderated, [Page 92] & masked, according to the pleasure of others. These kind of people we shold not accōpany our selues with, as wilful men, hedstrōg▪ ha­sty, & suche as are subiect to their owne affe­ctions: for since eche one, hath [...] his proper imperfections, if wée should still be obstinate or stoute, and would not yéeld nor apply our selues one to another, nor supporte and footh one the other, there shoulde bée nothing but deuocion, contention, & particularity among men. Therfore is it most proper to Prudēce, to know the persons, place, & time, with the rest of their circumstances. And this beeyng knowen, Temperance entreth our harts, & mollifieth all the parts of it▪ [...] it not to ta [...]ke [...]ill, or be offended at any thing though the same be imperse [...], in suche sorte, that part [...]ye it dissembleth, and partlie it ap­plyeth, and obeyeeth to all these cir [...] ­ [...]ances. So wée maye knowe, that those offenders are vexed with t [...] v [...]ees, with Ignorance, and that is [...]sable when it is alone: and with naturall presumption, engendred and b [...]ne in our [...]yndes, [...]y this seconde Nature▪ whe [...] [...] treate: which opre [...]umption [...] h [...]det [...] mildenesse, and [...]o mak [...] vs [...] [...] ­ [...]ogant, and stubborne agaynste others▪ and [Page] causeth oure anger to be obstinate, furious, and spightfull in opinion. But this vertue expulseth these vices, and maketh our hartes [...]eke, lowly, hūble, & obedient. As touching those that offende but of ignorance, they are (as I haue sayde) excusable, when the minde is tractable, the desire good, and the heart milde, gentle, and not stubborne: for though good naturall people are ignoraunt of those sircūstances, & know nothing, nor haue séen [...] any thing to purpose: yet we may then per­ceyue them to haue good entrance and begin­ning of knowledge, when they do not wyl­fully stande in their ignorance. And for that we dayly frequen [...] and [...] company, as are neyther found in our Philosophie▪ nor good Courtiers: to finde out suche we muste note, that of all the foure vertues we haue spoken of, this is the same which makes vs perfitely to vnderstande and knowe, when any are ciuill, honest, and Courtiers to bée lyked. Some are seene verie sumptuous, and magnificall in moste of their doings, and o­thers attempt great matters of a loftie▪ hart, to shew a desire to r [...]uenge their honora [...]d yet [...]ste of nothinglesse than of our Philo­sophie▪ [...] that is modest, [...]ractable and temperate, is not without the other▪ vertues [Page 94] also And to y ^• ende that the force of this ver­tue may be the better perceiued, we wil pro­céed to speake of a good grace which chiefly amongst al y ^• rest springeth out of this vertue.

Of a good Grace.

These foure vertues, that wée haue treated of afore, are the assured and certain causes, and very springs from whēce procedeth honesty, which we like wise call Courtly ciuilitie. Of the which ciuilitie well framed, & according to the circūstances (that we haue mentioned of) applyed, is for­med, borne, and nourished this a [...] grace▪ which Cice [...]o in his Offices calleth [...]coru [...] genezale. And for that the m [...]tter to him sée­meth so confused, as it is not yet framed into direct and right rules: he sayde, it might be better cōc [...]ed in imagination▪ than set forth▪ in wryting: we will after him declare that little we knowe, as well by wryting, as by experience. And to the end, th [...] the difference▪ betwene Ciuilitie and good grace▪ [...] be dis­cerned and vnderstanded▪ All causes pr [...]ee­ding from the vertues before mentioned [...] Ciuill actions, though they a [...]e [...] to all persones: for the vse [...]everie [...] [Page 95] tion shoulde be digested, and moderated, ac­cording to the circumstances. This agree­ment and good grace commes of ciuilitie and honestie: whereby we knowe, that nothing shoulde precisely be called good grace, vnlesse it be honest▪ And honestie shoulde be measu­red, according to our vertues before shewed. Notwithstanding, oftentimes abusing the terme, we attribute it to villanous and dis­honest actes▪ as when we say that a theft or pick [...]ric is done with a good grace, when the fr [...]bes, [...]els, and subtilties of théeues and theeuing is well obserued. Cicero sayeth there are two kindes of good graces: one spe­ciall, whiche [...] to euery one of the vertue [...] as that which we [...], doth smell or taste of any particular vertue: The other generall, proceeding from all the vertues, which is a certayne framing and agreeing [...] [...], to the pleesing of the worlde, where of we now speake Wher­by we may pertey [...] and iudge that they are much ab [...]sed, & are not of the number of our Philosophers that will euer haue their coun­tenance [...] of great vnderstan­ding▪ and also they that will not make other [...] or [...], but as magnificall and libe­rall: For [...] chéere and our countenaunce [Page 96] must tast of Prudence, Justice, Magnanimi­tie, & aboue all of Temperance or Modestie. Of the which foure so assembled and vnited, is perfitely séene and proued to come a good grace. Where are nowe out l [...]stie youthes, that are so liuely and braue, and take so great payne to be gallant, that speake friendlye, marche delicately, and looke loftily▪ counter­fey [...]ing countenances in all, and supposing by this to haue a good grace: and yet are meer­ly ignorant of our vertues, whereof that good grace springeth. Then these pleasant appa­rances, that proceede from the honest actes of good Courtiers, is this good grace? which cannot be deuided [...] from [...] vertue, nor our vertue from hir. And where­in is so great force to come to this perfection of honour, as nothing more: so that you may see our Gentlemen to [...]a [...]e mo [...] honor and reputation among Citizens and Marchants, and con [...]ent them better with their borrow­ing persuasions, than any of these rude and rustickes can do with giftes.

Socrates the fi [...]st morall Philosopher, gaue one precepte among others, whereby wee might easily come to honour▪ which is, that we should not maske, or disguise our selues, and that we shoulde be ashamed to séeme o­therwise [Page 97] in déed than we are. For (sayth he) when any shewe themselues other than they be, it is a playne argument they are of no value. And further their sayning and ypo­crisie cannot but be spyed. For glorie gotten in such subtile sorte will perishe. And there is nothing so finely feyned, cunningly cou­ched, nor craftily couered, but time will re­ueale the same: and all causes conueyed by dissimulation, are subiect to tyme, and are of substance like white blossomes: wheras true vertue encreaseth dayly, and groweth with time to immortall perfection.

To the ende that this appeare not contra­rie to that we haue s [...]yde of Dissimulation, which we affirm to be of so great force in our Philosophie: we muste better vnderstande the sentence of Socrates: for we followe him in this, and his opinion is verie good. True it is, that he that sheweth himselfe other than he is indéede, dissembleth: and he that dis­sembleth, sheweth himselfe otherwise than he is. But we must consider the ende of dis­simulation, which will agree with vs easily. Socrates forbidd [...]s such masking and general [...] by cause [...]e shoulde not appeere to be others tha [...] we are and we also allowe the s [...]on [...] ▪ For it w [...]re very foolish and rashly [Page 98] spoken, to say that a Gentlemen Courtier hathe a minde to be séene or accounted too shew him selfe contrarie to that he séemeth: or to doe any thing to that ende. But Socra­tes letteth vs not, that hauing no desire to shew ourselues contrarie to that we would be estéemed, notwithstanding we dissemble, and accommodate our selues to the imperfec­tions of euerie one, when the same doth pre­sent vs daunger, and is preiudiciall vnto vs. For such dissembling is not euill, and in it is neyther deceyte nor fraude: but all good fayth, as it were done not of purpose to shewe our selues otherwise than we be: but to the ende to please the worlde. Himselfe doeth serue vs for example, for although he was euer like vnto himself, constant and not variable, and desirous not to be séene other than he séemed: yet was he the greatest dis­sembler in the worlde. It is therefore wor­thie great prayse to moderate our affections, that they appeare not any way to others: and so to dissemble and accommodate oure selues to euerie one: For this is an easie meane to wynne and drawe to vs the good willes of all men, whereof commeth honor and reputation. And although somtimes, in dissimulation is founde an euill intent, as in [Page 99] those that vnder their fayre and fawning chéere doe couertly hyde hatred: yet for all that they doe not leaue to be good men and vertuous, so that theyr euill will appeare not too much: for it sufficeth to vs, if the means [...]e good, vnder the which, he that deceyueth his companion most cunningly and subtlely, is most wyse. We sée the lyke in loue, which is a place where oure vertue and god grace is moste allowed and best proued, as wée haue sayde. And is not then this dissimu­lation requisite and necessarie to gayne by the deceyuing of one another: as Ouid ma­keth mention in his thirde Booke de arte [...]

[Page 100]Sometimes we must dissemble, to blind the worlde, and to shadowe our hote affections with colde regarde and countenances, or otherwise: as Helen admonished Paris, fea­ring least his loue should be suspected, which he made to hir in the absence of hir husband Menelaus: when she cunningly counselled him saying:

And on the contrarie, to be open and simple, is méete for beastes and ydiotes: for this pre­sumption being still among vs, that is, euery one to deceyue other that most cunninglye can: Those that with open hart declare and shewe themselues not willing to vse fraude, are reputed ignorant, and haue not the cou­rage to speake to a man. For this the Al­maynes are best estéemed, as sometymes heretofore we the French men were: yet nowe (God be thanked) they haue pretily learned to liue: And further, when the suttel­tie of dissimulation, is subiect to reprehensi­on. We should not therfore generally blame [Page 101] dissimulation. For euill people doe makese­uill theyr profite in all things: As O [...]d sayeth de Tristibus, d [...]laring to Cesar, that al­thoughe s [...]me women had euyll▪ [...]d hys Arte of loue, the booke was not therefore the worse: For (sayth he) euill persons abuse the goodnesse of fire, whiche is notwithstan­ding good. And so of all other good things.

This facilitie of the Spirite is not there­fore to be blamed which snakes man accor­ding to the pleasure of others, to chatinge and transforme hymselfe▪ For in so doing he shall be accounted wise▪ winne honour, and be frée of repre [...]ension euery where: which Proteus knewe verie well, to whom his diuerse Me­tamorphosis and oft transfiguration was ve­rie commodious. Thus haue you principally the profite, whiche Temperance brings vs, for the better obteyning of this good grace.

We haue declared howe particularly we shoulde gouerne oure selues in obeying o­thers▪ nowe wée muste knowe howe wee shall generally vse oure actes of good grace, without regarde of the complexions, condi­tions, and priuate imperfections of anye: [Page 102] A [...] amongest [...]aungers, and▪ i [...] an vn­knowne companys▪ or in a multitude or greate assemblye where dyuerse are of sun­drie [...]inions, which will not be content nor thinke it good that we shoulde frame oure following more to the one than to the other, i [...] it bée not to some noble person aboue the rest, wherein it is lawfull wythout offence to the companie, to serue and obey▪ his plea­sure▪ I cannot here forget the ignorance and brutishnesse of the people, who in feasts, ban­quettes, and assembli [...]s, gouerne and order themselues, not according to the maner of the Court whiche is the best rule: but ac­cording to theyr particular pleasures and opinions. Wherefore it is not to be mar­ueyled at, if oute of suche a companye ma­nye come discontented: when euerye one of the assistaunces hauing their proper im­perfections, contrarie the one t [...] the o­ther, it were impossyble, but in pleasing of one, wée shoulde▪ and muste offende the o­ther. So that if any frame themselues to ob­serue theyr rule and common manner▪ e­uerye one wyll constrayne hys desyre▪ [...] lyke well of it. And for that the Spirite is the principall parte of manne, hauing ys cert ayne mouyngs, whiche are the af­fections, [Page 103] euen as the bodie hath. It is then the same wée shoulde moste care of. For if the mouinges be honest, and according▪ too vertue, whiche is too saye, if the affections are not contrarye too the foure kyndes, whereof wée haue spoken afore, but are v­nyted, concorded, and ruled by them, the gesture of the bodye wyll easilye followe, and nothing shall passe before the eyes of men, whiche shall not bée well done and of a good grace. For the bodye is the Organe and Instrument of the Spirite, by the whiche it doeth shewe it selfe, and makes knowne what it is. It was not wythoute cause, that certayne Philosophers sayde home that the Spirite is euer lyke it selfe, and neuer commes wyth more cunning, nor better learned from the Schooles than shee was béefore: For those that are Tu­tours and Teachers, do not instruct the Spi­rites of Infants: But only open, and stretch out the cunduytes of the bodie, to the ende, that the Spirite being deliuered, may know and shewe hir selfe, whereby wée see that menne of weake and féeble Spirites, can­not become learned: What payne and studys soeuer they take, what tyme and charge so euer they spende, and what [Page 104] maister or learner, so euer they haue. The reason is, that the Vesselles and powers of the bodye béeing once opened, nothing more can bée done: and no cunnyng indu­strie or labour, can any way alter or chaunge the condition of the Spirite. Wherein it séemeth too mée néedelesse, in a master and case so cleare, too vse anye Argument, for too shewe whether the qualitye of the Spi­rite of manne, bée vertuous or no, when it is too bée knowne by the gesture and out­warde countenaunce of the bodye: as it were impossible for the bodye, to serue for a maske or false Visarde to the Spright, which is euen so. For where as sundry ssi [...] ­gular good Authours, haue desyred to make vs vnderstande the conditions and proper­tyes of persones paste, eyther howe they were learned, wyse, magnificall, or suche lyke, and woulde perfitely represent them and descrybe them vntoo vs: they coulde not otherwyse make them better knowne than by theyr actes, gestures, and maner of lyuing: As wée may sée in Salust, who doeth so lyuely counterfeyte Cateline: and in the Poetes, who had greate delyghte in suche descriptions. And wée oure selues, when wée sée a manne styll busie wythoute [Page 105] purpose or reason, wée saye hée is waue­ring and inconstant: and when we heare one speake muche and lyke or allowe of hys talke, wée saye hée is wyse, and of a good iudgement. And so wee commonly iudge others by theyr outwarde signes. For too speake a truth, howe shoulde we otherwise haue the knowledge of things inuisible, se­crete and hidden: if not by the exteriour ap­paraunces that be presented to some one of oure senses? Then wée must néedes con­clude, that the countenaunce of manne re­uealeth and bewrayeth the knowledge of his Spirite: the whiche can bée no other in out­warde shewe, than shée doeth forme them. Wherefore we ought not to blame the ma­ner of liuyng of a learned man, wyse, boun­tyfull or liberall: thoughe hée haue not do­ctrine, prudence, liberalitie, and other qua­lities of the Spirite. And for that there are many whiche haue not the true knowledge of hir propertyes, (which is no other but ver­tue or vyce) and consequently vnderstande not that it is parte of oure Philosophie: this is the cause, that knowyng nothing of the manners, gesture, and liuing of men, wée commonlye iudge of them otherwise than they are. As of a yong sotte or foole [Page 106] braynlesse and full of prattling, they will estéeme, wise, pleasaunt, and a good speaker▪ and on the contrarie, of one prudent, modest, and a ciuill Courtier, they wyll regarde as proude, glorious, and of no vnderstanding. These kinde of noddies be of the number of the ignorant multitude, whiche are nothing certaine, but so blinded, that they followe in iudgement of all thinges their first opinion whatsoeuer it be. Of whom it is sayd, Quot capita, tot sensus. As many heads so many wittes. Agaynst whom whosoeuer will contende, is like Hercules fighting with the Serpent Hi­dra, hauing many heades, who as soone as he had cut of one, there presently sprang out in his place fiue or six more, as euill or worse than the first. The minde of man hath two gouernours reason and appetite: Reason is the same whereby he willes nothing con­trarie too vertue: and appetite is that which makes vs desire all things, without regarde or cheyse of good or euill, and seekes no other thing, but onelye for pleasure. Therefore we shoulde in all our life, haue great regarde that wee take nothing in hande wythoute some honest intent. It is a maxime or prin­ciple, that the Sages in tymes past left for vs to followe: Nihilfrustra, Nothing in vaine. [Page 107] If in all our doings before the execution, wée holde thys consideration, to thinke of▪ wher­fore wée doe it, and to what ende: surelye there shall not bée so many repentaunces, as there is. And for this cause is it remembred that the wise man neuer sayeth, I thought it not, or it repents me▪ not for that he ought or should not repent him, when he hath done euil▪ but for that he attēpeth nothing, with­out consideration wherfore and to what end: after y ^e which cōsideration, repentance cōmes neuer or seldome. Therefore we must haue great sore sight that in all our a [...]s & déeds, we execute nothing rashly, and without aduice: which if we do, reason shal rule & gouerne so well, y ^• the spirit wil not deliuer frō hir, any thing but vertue: frō whence this good grace shal then be séene to procéede. Euen so the appetite yelding to discretion, wil enterprise nothing in vs, but be obedient in executing the decrée and commission of reason. Then these immoderate affections, whiche are so blinded & insolent, that they make vs subiect & slaues to our owne proper opinions: shall be banished from vs, as an [...]uill contrarie to our Philosophie: whiche is not but too please and be gracious to others, whereby is obteyned honour and reputation. A man [Page 108] thus ruled and gouerned shal haue his whole senses frée, to studie the best meane howe he ought to liue: and when we shall once vn­derstande and knowe our vertue to he suche as we haue shewed afore, he will addresse all his thoughtes towarde hir, and will doe no­thing which shall not be agréeable to euerie man, wherby be may receiue prayse and esti­mation of the worlde: which is the accom­plishment of our desired enterprise.

Sée here the happie way wée must holde: and whervpon is grounded the perfite glorie of our Philosophie. Sée howe the true and right Courtiers liue: which bende and bowe their owne proper affections to followe oure vertue, and he pleasing to all men. Beholde the true fountayne from whence springs the good grace, which consisteth principally (as wée see) in modestie and temperance. Where are nowe these glorious vaunters, that try­umph in theyr imperfections and good heads? which will not (as they say) for any man li­uing, doe otherwyse than after theyr owne braynes? Wée must sende them to Tymon Misantrope that enimie of mankinde, and ex­clude them cleane from our companie.

The Gentleman Courtyer is none of those, nor so addicted to his owne desires, or so [Page 109] subiect to himselfe, but plyant like waxe, re­die to receyue any honest or frendly impres­sion. For if it be néedefull to laughe, hee re­ioyceth: If to be sad, he lowreth: If to be an­gry, he frowneth: If to féede, he eateth: If to faste, he pyneth. And to conclude, he is ready to doe whatsoeuer it be, according to the hu­mors and complexions of his felowship and Courtly companie, althoughe his affections are cleane contrary. Yet in all these actions, he muste vse a prudence, that he do not any thing lyghtly, but so grauely and with suche a modest meane, as if he had double conside­ration in it, regarding why, howe, where & when, with all other circumstāces. And that he haue euer in his mouth not to doe wrong to anye, but to garde and defende the righte of all men. And if it bée néedefull to bée ma­gnificall, so to vse it, as it séeme to be done not nigardlye, but bountifullye: that he haue his hart firme, faste, and assured, not moued or bashfull at any sudden motion, how straūge or statelie soeuer it be. That he so moderate and bridle his priuate affections, as nothing be séene to come from him, but curtesie, gen­tlenesse, and humanitie. And doing this, ther wil presently appeare in him so good a grace, that he shall easily draw vnto him the fauor [Page 110] and beneuolence of euerye man. And as all the worlde may perfectly perceyue, that by the exterior and outwarde actes, one cannot so well deceyue, or so easily beguyle the sim­plest of iudgemente that is, if hée haue not these instructions in his mynde, with­oute the whiche none can attayne too this perfection of knowledge. Therefore lette vs followe and rule oure selues by others, accustoming too doe as they doe, and make a good foundation▪ For the firste praise con­sisteth in inuenting and executing in him­selfe somewhat that is good: the seconde too prooue it good, and too followe the same that others haue done good by. And in so directing oure dooyngs, besydes that manye will ac­compte of vs as greate Philosophers, and béeing knowen of the best in our vertue not to haue the whole vnderstanding of it: yet at the leaste they will commende & prayse our desire to knowe the ground of it: whiche by little & little wyll so polish and burnishe our countenance, that in the ende wee may well come too the perfection of this good grace. Lette vs marke the Italian his Ciuilitie and courtesie. For auncient Rome the mo­ther and nourse of manye of oure Philoso­phie (althoughe they haue wrytten of o­thers) [Page 111] haue sowen and spredde in all the countrey certayne countenances and ge­stures, whiche are daylye practised in suche sorte, as, though some haue not their mindes perfectly instructed, yet they haue their chere and gestures so framed, by a custome of fo­lowing it, that they séeme to vs the beste for Courtly grace in the worlde. The Italian will not appeare in any his actes rashe or heady, but so coldely and so soberly séemes to consider all circumstances, as thougeh hee tasted the sappe and substance of oure beste vertue; whiche procéedes of Prudence. And in dooing wrong to any, whereby the lawe may touche him, or the Iudge byte him (as wée haue sayde speaking of Iustice) he is so circumspecte, as hée commonlye kéepes and conueyes himselfe out of bondage euer. And if it bée néedefull too playe Sienor Magnifico, God knowes how he wyll do his endeuour. Touching y ^• hawtinesse of hart & noblenesse of minde, there are none in y ^e world do better or with more maiestie represent it thā they. They blush or bash at nothing: for if you sup­pose sodainly to moue them, with a shrinke of their shoulder they shake it of, & make a good apparāce. If you suppose to make them laughe, they will not chaunge countenance: [Page 112] And for the reste, it is néedelesse to tell, howe they couer, hyde, and represse their affections with their greate, pacience and dissimulati­on. So that to conclude, they are borne and bredde in their countrey Courtiers. By this example, such as cannot well instruct their mindes in our Philosophie, shall doe singu­larly well to endeuour and accustome them­selues, to imitate, followe, and represent the best liked and moste allowed in the same. I was of opinion too procéede in this matter more particularly, but I féele my pen blūt & wéery: & I am willing to recreate my selfe in this countrey where I am newly come.

The Conclusion.

I Will content myselfe too haue opened thus much, by the which such as haue good eyesight, may as in a turrette or prospectiue place, regarde a farre off, and sée many things touching the varietie of mans lyfe, whereof we haue no whit spoken. Wée may also perceyue that this Philosophy mo­rall, that commaundes vs to do all things which is good faythfully and truely, howe it hath made vs to gather togither this, wher­of [Page 113] we haue treated: which willes vs to doe the same, that séemes good to men. And this error is not to be wondered at, since it coms of the corruption and deprauation of oure mindes, who accompts that good which is e­uill according to the iudgemēt of other men some what perfect. For wée haue so manye spyes and enimies, that séeke no other than to entrappe and meshe vs in these follies & vanities, to the ende we should not know the true way we ought to take: that it is impos­sible for this second nature (wherin the Sa­ges and worldly wise haue sette their onely good and felicitie) to resist or withstād them: wherby most part of men are deceyued, sup­posing to haue this Philosophie, whiche they haue not. And others that are sayde too bée more wise, are most abused: beléeuing that in the same whiche they haue, consisteth the onely good & happy state of man, whereas in déede there is nothing more contrarye to the soueraine bountie than their Science alone: whiche doth no other, but puffe and lyfte vp these our mindes against the alone and only omnipotent puyssance. Wherfore I affirme that true Philosophie is the despising & con­temning of Philosophie and his foundation, whiche is this second nature, that God hath [Page 114] not made. For by the faulte of man it is be­come so corrupted. If wée wyll bée Philoso­phers, we muste shake from vs and vnfolde the darkenesse and impedimentes of this se­conde nature, & hir consequence: (what this consequence is, I leaue to others iudgemēt) and indeuour our selues to reknowledge the first, which is the same that God made: who will gyue vs his blessing and grace so to doe, if wée open the gate vnto him who séeketh vs, saying, I stand at your dore and knocke therat, if any will receyue me, I wyll come in and eate with him, and he with me.