¶ Three morall Treatises, no lesse pleasaunt than necessary for all men to reade, wherof the one is called the Learned Prince, the other the Fruites of Foes, the thyrde the Porte of rest.

¶ Imprynted at London by Wyllyam Seres, dwellynge at the west ende of Poules at the signe of the Hedg­hogge.

Cum priuilegio ad imprimendum solum.

To the Queenes highnes

OF all the bookes that euer Plutarke wrote,
More mete is none, when they haue time & space,
For Prynces all to rede and well to note:
Then this, whiche heare I offre to your grace.
For lyke as he, the good doth iustly praise,
The euill their faultes, so, plainlye dothe he tell,
And whilst he doth consider both their wayes:
He shewes wherein a Prince ought most texcell.
That is to saye in learnynge, wytte, and skill,
To tame affectes, and folowe reasons lore,
Whose steppes doe flethe wayes of froward will:
And treades the pathes of iustice euermore.
And though this Boke, your highnes oft hath redde,
In Grekyshe prose as Plutarke did it wright:
My rurall muse, for that, yeat, had no dredde
In Englysh verse, agayne the same tendight.
Presuminge of the fauor whyche she fownde,
When that she sange, what fruites of foes might rys [...]
And that your grace, gaue eare vnto the sownde
Of suche rude ryme, as she did then deuyse.
Wherfore now harke my liege and souraigne Quene
What Plutarke sayeth of Prynces good and badde
Who yf he were alyue to Iudge: I wene,
Of all the Qu [...]nes in honour to be had,
Your learninge, and your vertues pondred well,
He would your grace, should onely beare the bell.
Your maiesties most humble Subiecte Thomas Blondeuille.
The learned Prynce.T …

The learned Prynce.

THe Cyrens once made greate request,
That Plato wolde vouchsafe to wright
such lawes, as he for the thought best,
Their state therby, to rule vpright.
But Plato tho, dyd cleane refuse,
So hard a thynge to take in hande,
Who knewe, they woulde good lawes abuse
Which had such welth within their lande.
For nothing is more hard tentreate,
More proude, ne worse to deale wythall,
Than is that man, in wealthye state
Which thinkes to stande, and fearth no fall.
Wherfore it is to harde for suche
As others rule, and beare the swaye,
To suffer lawes to rule to muche,
Lest than, their power should sone decaye.
For reason as their Cheffe to take,
They doe abhorre: lest Princely might,
They should then forced be to make
A slaue: to Iustice trueth and ryght.
As men alas which doe not knowe,
What [...]eop [...]mp the Spartan duke
Sayd to his wife with voyce full lowe,
When she obiected this rebuke.
For whereas he dyd fyrst of all
To royall power, Tribunos adde:
She sayd thou bryngst thy Sonne, in thrall,
To leaue lesse powre, then thou hast hadde.
No rather yet, then aunswerde he
I shall hym leaue so muche the more
For nowe his powre shall stronger be
Then euer myne was heretofore.
And thoughe this Prynce hymselfe depryud
Of that whiche he to geue thought good:
As thoughe small brookes he had deryud
Out of a goulffe, or flowinge floud:
Remyttynge yet the riguor greate
Of royall powre whiche none can beare
He dyd auoyde all enuyouse hate:
And leadde his lyfe cleane out of feare.
Yf reason gotte by wysedomes lore
Assist the Prynce: she gardes his health,
For ryddynge thill awaye before
She leaues the good tencrease his wealth.
But many Kynges that folyshe are
To masters rude that karue in stone
And haue no arte, I may compare
So lytle diffrence is or none.
For they their Images do Iudge
Then best to make: when that they shape
them arms & thighes with legges most hudge
and ougly mouthes full wyde to gape.
Vnprudent kinges euyn so I saye
By frowning lokes, bigge voyce, disdayne,
and keping closse in, all the daye,
Great maiestye do thinke tattaine.
Like Images in outward showe
VVhich do pretend some goodly one
Yeat inwardlye if you wyll knowe
they onely are but earth or stone.
In one thinge yeat they disagree.
For Images throughe that their waight
and heauy poyse, fast stablisht bee:
Ne do they moue but stande vp straight.
VVhere foolishe kynges vntaught I saye
For that within they are not sounde
Ne truly waide they swarue and swaye
and oftimes fall vnto the grounde.
For why vnles to place thou wylt
In suer wise, thy Principall:
VVhat euer shall theron be buylt:
In breffe must nedes to ruyne fall.
But as the Craftsman should forsee
His rule be right and trulye made
VVithout all fault before that hee
In any woorke do further wade:
A Prince likewise ought first to kno
Hymselfe to rule and rightlye guyde
And then to frame his subiectes so
As in good rule they may abyde.
For whye it is a thinge vnmete
A feble man to take in hande
to set vp others on their fete
VVhen he himselfe can scantly stande.
Ne likewise can it decente be
That he should teache whiche hath no skill
Or order men in eche degre
In whom doth raigne disorder still.
Ne should that man commaunde of right
VVhich reasons rule doth not obaye
Though fooles him count of greatest mighte
VVhich subiecte is no kynde of waye.
The kynge of Perce, did all men take
To be hys slaues and lyue in thrall
His wife excepte whom he should make
His will tobaye, aboue them all.
But some perhappes would nowe demaunde
Question Who ought to rule a Prynce or Kynge?
answere The lawe as Quene, who doth commaunde
Both Gods and men, as Poets synge.
I meane not that whiche is exprest,
In bokes of paper, wodde, or stone,
But reason graft within his brest,
To guyde his doinges euerychone.
The Kynge of Pearce was wont to haue
A chamberlane whome day by day
Whā mornyng came he strayght charg gaue
That he to him these wordes shoulde saye.
Aryse thou Kynge and slepe no more
But carefull be to do ryght sone
Suche nedefull thynges as heretofore
Mesoromasdes woulde haue done.
But Kynges that wyse and learned are
Haue alwayes one within theyr mynde
More prompt to tel them of theyr care
Then any man that they can fynde,
Polemon sayde that Cupyde was
A seruaunt to the Goddes aboue
From place to place with spede to passe
To seke what dyd yonge laddes behoue.
But one more rightly yet might saye
Gods ministers that Prynces bee
To take the charge of men alwaye
And eke their wealth to well forsee.
That like as God do lette them haue
Those godly giftes which they enioye
Some part euyn so they still shoulde saue
And wiselye ought the rest temploye.
We see the ample heauen howe he,
With liquid armes do thearth embrace:
Who first sent downe the sedes whiche she
With fruit bringes forth in euery place.
Some growe by raine, and some by winde,
By glittringe starres some norissht are
And some the Moone wyth moystures kinde
To foster vppe, hath onelye care.
And finallye the louelye Sonne
Whose shyning beames adorneth all
His frendly course doth dayly ronne
And shewes like loue to great and small.
These godly gyftes yeat can we not
Ne rightlye vse ne well enioy
Onles also it be oure lot
To haue a Prynce Iustice and Ioy.
For Iustice is of lawe the ende
And lawe the Prynces woorke I saye
The Prynce gods lykenes doth portende
Who ouer all muste beare the swaye.
And neadith not the skilfull hande
Of Phidias, or Policlette,
Of Miron eke or suche lyke bande
Of those that Carue and colours sette.
For he himselfe by vertue canne
Hymselfe to God moste lyke descrye
An Image pleasinge eurye manne
And noble to beholde with eye.
And lyke as God in heauen aboue
The shyninge Sonne and Moone doth place
In goodliest wise as beste behoue
To shewe his shape and lyuelye grace:
Suche is that Prynce within his lande
Whych fearinge God, maintayneth ryght,
And reasons rule doth vnderstande,
VVherin consistes his porte and might.
And not in Scepter, or in Crowne,
In thunder bolt, or glyttringe swerde,
wherby some thinke tobteyne renowne
Synce than, they shoulde be greatlye ferde.
Wheras in dede, for that they seme
That none to them maye haue accesse:
They are enuied, and wise men denie
Suche porte to be greate foolishnesse.
For God offended is wyth those
His thundringe power that imitates:
But he delightes in suche as chose
In clemency to be hys mates.
And doth promote them more and more
And of his owne benignytye:
Doth make them partners of his lore
Of iustyce, trueth, and equitye.
Whiche thinges in dede are more deuyne
Than fyar, light, or phebus course,
Than starres that rise or downe declyne
Ye endles life it selfe, is worse.
For why longe life is not the cause
That God moste happy counted is
But prince of vertue is the clause
VVheron dependeth all his blis.
When Alexander sorye was
For Clytos death whome he had slayne:
Then Anaxarke, suche wofull cas
To mittigate: to hym gan sayne.
To Clito hapt but Iustice tho,
Which doth assiste the goddes alway
That what soeuer Princes do,
Should rightfull seme without denaye.
Which sayinge was ne right, ne good,
For where the kinge bewaild his cryme:
This semd to egge him in lyke moode,
To do like act an other tyme.
But if for men it lawfull were
Such thinges texamyne as them liste:
Full quickly then, it would appeare
That Iustice doth not Ioue assiste.
For Iustyce euyn it selfe to be,
Almightye Ioue we ought to take:
A lawe of most antiquitye
Which neuer dyd the trueth forsake.
The old men also plainlye saye
It passeth Ioue his poure and might
When ladye Iustice is awaye:
A kyngdome for to rule vpright.
Who as Hesyode hath vs tought
A virgyn is immaculate,
A shamefast maide, which neuer wrought
But modestlye wyth eurye state.
And hereof kinges surnamed are
Right reuerent, and dredefull aye:
For those in whome doth dwell least feare,
Ought to be feared moste I saye.
But it behoues muche more a kynge
To feare to do, then suffer ille,
For of the one the other sprynge,
So do so haue is Iustice wille.
This Princely feare a Prynce lykewyse
Should alwayes haue: Vnwares that lest
To hym, for lacke of carefull eyes:
With wronges his subiectes be opprest.
For so the dogges that watche the folde
When they the cruell wolfe do heare:
Not for themselues which are full bolde,
But for their charge haue onely feare.
Epamynond the Theban knight
His subiectes tendinge feastes and playe
Would all alone both day and night
Kepe watche and warde and oftymes saye.
That he dyd aye lyue soberlye
And watchfull was to that intente
That others myght more quyetlye
Be dronke, and slepe, as they were bente.
VVhen Cezar hadde at vtique towne,
to Cato yeuen the ouerthro:
the reste vnslayne, then Cato downe
Did call: vnto the sea to go.
And hauinge sene them safelye shipte
and wysht them well to passe the sea:
as one with fewer cares beclipte,
Retourned home himselfe to slea.
By which ensample Cato heare,
Doth teache all Princes that be wise,
Of what, they should haue greatest feare,
And what againe, they should despise.
But on the other part beholde
Clearchus cruell kinge of Ponte,
Howe lyke a Serpente layde in folde
In chest closse shut to slepe was wonte.
Full lyke Taristodeme therefore
VVho in his dyninge chamber hadde
A closette with a fallynge dore
And eke with beddynge fynelye cladde.
VVherin his concupyne and he
VVere wont all nyght to take their rest,
And to thintente that none should se
Ne come to vexe them in their nest:
The mother of the damsell should
The stayer cleane from thence remoue
And set it, theare against they would
come downe next mornynge from aboue.
Howe much thynke you would this man flee
A Palays, Courte, or Feastynge place
VVhich of hys chamber as you see
A prison made to kepe his grace.
Thus trew kynges haue no feare in dede
But aye for those, on whom they raigne:
But Tyrantes for theym selues haue drede
Lest for their vice they shoulde be slaine.
The greater powre, the greater feare,
The more to rule, that they obtayne:
The more as foes to them appeare,
VVherby they growe in more disdayne.
VVyth matter apt all shapes to take
And subiect aye to sondry chaunge
Of god some would a mixture make
and hyde hym theare which is full straunge.
But Plato sayith God dwelles aboue
And there fast fixt in holy sawes:
From trueth he neuer doth remoue
Ne swarues from natures stedfast lawes.
And as in heauen lyke to a glasse
The sonne his shape doth represente:
In earth, the light of Iustyce was
By hym ordeynd: for lyke intente.
VVhich shape all wyse and happy men
To counterfete employe theyr payne
Full busuly wyth wysdomes pen
The chefeste blis therby tattaine.
But nothing can this habit brede
In vs so sone, as reasons lore
Got out of wysdoms schole in dede:
To guyde our doynges euer more
VVhen Alexander hadde well tryde
The prompt wytte of Diogenes
And sene his stoutnes great besyde:
He marueyled, and sayde, doutles:
If I not Alexander were,
I woulde become diogenes,
As one that vertue woulde fayne leare:
But princely powre dyd hym oppresse.
VVhich would not graunt him time tapply:
The thinge so muche estemed aye
For lacke whereof he did enuy?
The Cinickes scrippe, and pore araye.
VVherewith he sawe the Cinicke made
At all assayes more stronge and stouts
Than he hymselfe when to inuade
Of horse and men had greatest route.
Thus in desiar and good will
Diogenes the kinge might be
And yeat in dede remayning still
In princelye state and highe degre.
Yea, he, more nede had in this cas
To be diogenes aryght:
In that he Alexander was
An emprour great of powre and might.
Who hadde in fortunes seas to stryue
With cruell stormes and rockes besyde
Wheron his shippe might easlye dryue
Onles he had the better guyde.
For priuate men of lowe degre
That others can offende no waye
Thoughe they taffectes oft subiect be
Their greues yeat are but dreams I saye.
But whereas powre is ioynd vnto
Euill ordred life, thear thinke it true
That such affectes will cause also
Great grefe in dede for to ensewe.
The chefest fruit that Dionise
Dyd of his empyre take: it was,
(He sayde) what he dyd than deuise,
With spede to haue it brought to passe.
A thyng most peryllouse therfore
It is, vndecent thynges to wyll:
When he that wylleth, euermore
Hath powre, the same for to fulfyll.
For powre doth malice quickly moue,
With euyll affectes the mynd to streke
As enuy, wrath, aduowtry, loue,
Mens goodes also, and lyues to seke.
And then the worde nys soner sayde,
But wo to hym that is suspect
Toffende in that to hym is layde,
For sentence there, must take effect.
Of nature, such as searchers be:
Do hold that after thunder clapp
The lyghtnyng coms, yeat do we se
The same before we heare the rapp.
The bludd lykewyse before the wound
To vs most commonly appeares:
For sight doth mete the light; wheare sound
Is fayne to come euin to our eares.
In kyngdoms so, some men we fynde
Taue suffred eare, thaccused were
And sentence yeuen to wrath inclynde
Before due profe of cryme appeare.
For wrath nought hable is twithstand
The powre of malice when she list,
As is the anker firt in sande
Which can the cruell sea resist.
Onles that reason with her wayght
Presse downe such powre, and kynges abyde
To marke the sonne, in greatest hayght
Howe he hymselfe doth wysly guyde.
For when he mownted is aloft
To Cancers ryng, he semes to stay,
In that he goeth so fayre and soft
Wherby he doth assure his way.
But this by dayly profe we knowe
Where powre and malyce do abyde:
There, malyce nedes, her selfe must showe,
And can her face no long tyme hyde.
If those that haue the fallyng yll
At any tyme take colde I say,
They can not stand but stagger styll
Which playnely doth theyr grefe bewray.
[...]
But only wysshe and dayly craue
Of god to graunt, that ouer vs
Long tyme of raigne her bygones haue
Which is so good and gracious.
Finis.
¶ The fruytes of Foe …

¶ The fruytes of Foes. Newly corrected and cleansed of manye faultes escaped in the former printing.

Anno domini. M.D.LXI.

Cum priuilegio ad imprimendum solum.

¶ Roger Ascham Secretory to the Queenes maiestie, for the latin tongue, in praise of the booke.

OF English bokes, as I could find,
I haue perused many one:
Yet so wel done vnto my mind,
As this is, yet haue I foūd none
The woordes of matter here doe rise,
So fitly and so naturally,
As heart can wishe or witte deuise
In my conceit and fantasie.
The woordes well chosen and well sette,
Doe bryng suche light vnto the sense:
As if I lackt I woulde not lette,
To bye this booke for forty pense.

To the Queenes highnes

SVch Newyeres giftes as most mē do prepare
To geue your grace, it passeth far my powre.
For golde ne pearle, ne such lyke costly ware,
Can I possesse: sith fortune styll doth lowre.
As she on me hath hereto euer done,
Which had me brought at length to great distresse
But that the hope, which in your grace alone
I alwayes fixt: my griefes did oft redresse.
Which hope I say, euen now doth make me bolde
Your royall state, with this so small a queyre
For to present: yea more, that hope me tolde,
From this day forth, I should no more dispeire.
For loe, (saith she) the golden worlde at hande,
And Iustice raignes again within this lande.
Your maiesties most humble seruant. Thomas Blundeuille.

The fruites of Foes.

BI Plutarks lore of mortal foes,
Learne ye y t list some fruit to take,
For fruits inough, he doth disclees
Wherof I wil, you partners make
In olde time past, mē only sought,
The hurtfull beastes, their foes to kyll,
Of other spoyle, they nothyng thought,
But so to saue themselues from ill.
But others came then afterwarde,
Whose sleight was such, those beastes to slay:
As they thereto had small regarde,
Except they myght obtaine some pray.
Their fleshe to eate, they vsde therfore,
And with their wolle, themselues to cladde,
Their milke and galle they kept in store:
To heale suche griefes, as sicke men hadde.
And of their hydes, they harnes made,
Themselues to arme, on euery syde:
That they might aye in safety wade
Against all force, that might betyde.
Loe thus by foes, no hurt to take,
It did not them at all suffise,
Except they might such great gaine make:
As they themselues could best deuise.
If thou therfore, without some hate,
Here cannot liue in quiet rest:
Inuent some way of such debate,
To leaue the worst, and take the best.
No tylman can by arte deuise,
Eche tree to spoyle, of nature wilde:
Nor huntsman eke, be he right wise,
Can tame eche beast, that roons in fyelde.
Wherfore they haue right wisely founde,
The meane tapply such beast and tree,
To other vse, which doth redounde,
Vnto their great commoditee.
The water of the sea, we see,
Is salte, and hath vpleasante taste:
Yet cheifly thence, I say haue wee,
The fishe, our foode, which we do waste.
Yea, more then that, thinges of great price,
The shipps by sea to vs do brynge,
Both pleasant silke, and holsome spice,
And many other nedefull thinge.
The brightnes of the flaminge fire,
Appearing in the Satirs sight:
Straight waies, so kindled his desire.
That it timbrace, he toke delight.
Prometheus, then loude can crie,
Beware he saide imbrace none suche,
For that it hath the propertie:
To burne all those, that doth it tuche.
It was not made to colle, and kisse,
But heate, and light, alwaies to yelde:
The very meane also it is:
Whereby craftes men, their artes doe welde.
Hereby therfore, we may perceiue,
That of our foe right perilous,
In this our lyfe we may receiue,
Suche fruites as be commodious.
For though some thynges be very ill,
To those, to whom they appertaine,
Yet vsde they may be, with suche skyll:
As losse shall easily turne to gaine.
As loe for proofe, some sickly corse
For easementes sake, sekes quiet rest.
VVhere some againe, to win their force,
To trauell oft, do thinke it best.
Diogenes and Crates chaunce,
Do well declare, how banishmentes
And losse of goodes, doe some auaunce
To knowledge great, which them contentes.
VVhen Zeno heard, that tempestes gret,
In raginge sea, his ship had lost:
He mourned not ne yet did fret,
But made as though it lytle cost
And thus gan say, to fortune tho,
Howe dearely doest thou me entreate:
Me thus to force, againe to go,
In wysedoms schoole, to fynde a seate.
Some beastes we see, such stomakes haue
As serpentes cause full soone disgeast,
Both woode and stone, they also craue
Suche kynde of foode, them hurteth least.
But some againe, so deinty bene
That they oft loth, the finest bredde,
And purest wine, that can be sene:
VVherwith they myght be alwayes fedde.
Euen so fares fooles, that frendship ioyes,
Do aye destroye, but to the wyse:
Of hatefull strife and spightfull toyes,
Great wealth, and gaine, dothe oft aryse.
VVherefore, me thinkes, where in thy foe
Doth seme to geue the greatest grief:
Thou mayst thereof, receiue also
Muche greater gayne to thy reliefe.
And if thou aske, how that may be,
I saye to thee, consider then,
What care he hath, thy workes to se,
With whom, to whom, what, where, & when.
With Linx his eyes, he doth beholde,
Thy lyfe, thy frende, and seruaunte aye,
Thy dedes, and thoughtes right manifolde,
Thy name to harme, if that he maye.
Thys profyt eke, by foes we haue
Our frendes oft tymes, we doe not minde,
They may be sick, and layde in graue,
Vnwares to vs, lyke men vnkinde.
But of oure foe, both day and night
We thinke and dreame, such is our choyse,
His grief, or bane, to haue in sight:
Which onely doth, our mindes reioyce.
If thou be sick, or much in det,
Falne out with wife, with mayde, or man,
Yea, no mishap can thee beset:
But, it, thy foes, eft sone knowe can.
Lyke rauening birdes, that putryd fleshe,
And not the sounde, far of can smell,
So they thy illes, to spye be freshe,
And all thy griefes, with eye full fell.
What greater gaine may be than this,
Hereby to learne, in suche a sort
Our life to leade, as none there is:
That ill therof may once report.
For as sicke men that wary be,
In meates and drinkes, that may offende:
In wordes and dedes, euen so doe we
Take hede that they the best pretende.
Wherby we come in schole to dwell,
Of customes good, and excellent,
For reason rules thaffections fell:
Wherto our myndes be alwales bent.
Yea, through long time, and exercyse,
It bredes in vs, such stedfastnes:
That learne we can none other guise,
But aye to liue in holynes.
The townes that long haue bene beset,
With enmies stout on euery side:
Haue derely learnde, by losses gret,
To kepe good watche in euery ride.
And eke their lawes and ordinaunce,
To execute with iustice aye
The humble sort for to aduaunce:
The proude to chast, that nyll obay.
Euen so fare those that forced bee,
Through spightfull foes, both negligence,
And slouthfulnes alwaies to flee
Whereby they liue without offence.
For custome shall them bring with spede,
To suche a trade of doyng well,
That if they goe as reason lede:
In errour none, they can long dwell.
VVhen minstrels of one sute and bande
In open place doe musicke make:
VVithout all feare, and care they stande,
And to their play, no hede doe take.
But when their skyll, they doe compare
VVith straungers, that professe lyke art:
They sharpe their wittes, and haue great care,
That euery one may doe his part.
Of instrumentes, and eke of stringes,
They seke where they maye haue best choyce,
And oft doe proue, how with suche thinges
May best agree, both hande and voice.
Euen so it fares with him, whose lyfe
And honour bothe, muche spighted is
By those that sekes, with hatefull strife
Hys thinges to blame that be amis.
Full ware is he in busines,
And eke foresees therof the ende,
For when we erre: malitiousnes
Regardes the foe, more than the frende.
When Carthage was all torne and rent,
And Greece subdude, the Romaines thought
Themselues full safe, their foes thus shent,
They were all gladde, and feared nought.
But Scipio did then repreue,
In perill most be we (quoth he)
When no foe is, that may vs greue,
Whose feare should make vs slouth to fle,
One asked once Diogenes
How he might best reuenged bee
Of all his [...]oes, both more and les,
That from all care he mighte be free.
Diogenes right wisely tho
To him gan saye, no dent of knife
Can greue so much thy cruell fo:
As for to see thy perfit lyfe.
What grudge, what griefe, the common sort
Conceiues to see, the go odly horse
And coursing dogges, which but for sport,
To kepe: their [...]es do litle force.
What playntes, what sighthes, & dolfull sownds
Their spightfull breastes to heauen do yelde,
To see their pleasant garden growndes,
Or store of corne to growe in fielde.
How much more then, would they lament,
To s [...]e their foe to be full iuste?
In worde and dede, to vertue bent,
Of sober life, and free from lust.
And eke to budde out of his brest,
That fraighted is, with holynes
Such domes, and councels, as are best,
To ease eche heart in heauynes.
The tonges of them, that conquerde bee,
Are bounde from speache, saith Pindarus:
And yet these wordes, as you shall see,
To all be not approbrious.
But only do suche men reproue,
As nedes must yelde, vnto their foes,
In all those vertues, that behoue,
A perfit man for to disclose.
For suche thinges faith Dimosthenes
Do binde the tonge in torment aye,
And stoppes the mouth of them doutles
That thinkes more ill, then they dare saye.
Enforce to shewe thy selfe therfore,
Sith in thy power it doth consist:
Thy lyfe to guide by vertues lore,
Their wicked tonges for to resist.
And when thou wouldst faine put thy foe,
In great dispaire, take not the waye
By haynous wordes, as others doe,
His name to persecute I saye.
Ne beastly man, ne filthy foole
Doe thou hym call, but rather seke,
In suche a sort thy selfe to schoole,
That none thy doynges maye misleke.
Be true thy selfe, in woorde and dede
Be modest styll, and chast also
Shewe curtesy in tyme of nede
To suche as haue with thee to do.
And if it shoulde so come to passe,
That nedes, thy foe thou must reproue
For any fault: yet in that case,
See first thy selfe thou doe wel proue.
Examine eke with diligence,
Thine inward partes if they be free,
From all suche vire and negligence:
as in thy foe, thou semste to see.
For els perhaps thou maist geue cause,
To some ill tonge, that standes thee by:
With voyce full soft, to saye this clause,
Recited in a Tragedie.
Beholde I saye this foolishe man,
That takes in hande the woundes to cure
Of other men: and yet nought can
His owne redresse, I you assure.
But if he call thee ignoraunt,
Learne wisedome then by industrie
Thy faynty heart, if he doe taunt
Let stoutnes shew thou wilt not flie.
If he thee checke for lecherie,
Auoide eche sparke of filthines,
Out of thy breast full spedilie,
and learne to liue in holines.
More foule or grieuous nothing is
Then for a man suche faultes to checke
As all the shame therof ywis
Againe shall turne vpon his necke.
For as rebounde of glittering light,
The feble sight doth moste offende:
Euen so most grieuous is the spight,
Which trueth beates back, frō whence it wende.
The mistie cloudes vnto the winde,
that blowes Northeast, doe aye resort,
The wicked life euen so we fynde
To her doth drawe all ill report.
If any man in Platoes sight
Had vilye done, straight thence would he,
And softly say, may any wight,
Such one as he, me force to be?
But when thou haste with wordes of ire
Thy foe yprict, for his offence:
Beholde thy self, and eke desire
Thy lyfe tamende, with diligence.
Of spightfull wordes so shalt thou drawe
Muche fruite, to thy greate welth and gaine
Though some it thinke, ne right ne lawe,
To vse such wordes, of great disdayne.
The common sort, do laughe, and smyle,
VVhen any balde or crooked man,
Do others taunt, and oft reuyle,
For such defectes, as themselues han.
VVhat greater scorne, then woulde it bee,
If thou suche faultes shouldst reprehende:
As one with worse, might aunswer thee
VVhich thou in no wyse couldst defende.
As once, did Leo Bizantine,
When one that had a crooked backe,
Hym cast in teeth his bleared eyne
alas (quoth he) this is no lacke.
A humaine thing this is, I say,
But why alas canst not espye:
Howe on thy backe thou bearest alway,
That goddesse fell, dame Nemesye?
Nemesis Godd [...]sse r [...]uenge.
Aduouterer, see none thou call
Whilst fouler lust in thee dothe raigne:
Ne yet reproue the prodigall,
If auarice thy lyfe dothe staine.
Alemeon when he did reuile,
Adrastus, king: of kin thou art
(Quoth he) vnto that woman vile:
Whiche carft with knife, her husbandes hart.
Adrastus then, him aunswerd loe,
With that whiche did him touche at quicke
Suche beastly wrathe in thee did floe
Thy dame to slea ere she were sicke.
When Dyonise did Crassus skorne,
For that he wailde, his Lampreys cas,
By crewell death, then all forlorne,
Whiche in his ponde, long fostred was.
Then Crassus said, rebuke not mee
Sith that from thee no teares did fall
The death to see, of thy wiues three
Nor felst no grief, therby at all.
VVho so delightes to checke or taunt,
No rybalde, knaue, or foole must bee:
VVith bragging woordes, hymself to vaunt,
But rather should from vyce be free.
VVherfore, none semes more bound tobay,
Apollos woorde (thine own self know:)
Then those that are most prompt alway
To rayle, to iest, to mocke, and mowe.
For hap, it may, saith Sophocles,
That whilst they taunt, as them likes best:
To them again, is said doubtles:
That whiche to heare, they couet lest.
In tauntyng thus our foes, we finde
No litle fruit, but more we gaine,
VVhen they likewise, with wordes vnkinde,
Our faultes to taunt, do not refraine.
Anthistines said well therfore,
That lyfe, in safety to encloes
Man ought to haue alwaies in store:
Right perfit frendes, or bitter foes.
For faithfull frendes wyll vs reforme
VVhen that we erre: our foes againe
VVyll so muche rayle, a [...]d out of forme,
That nedes from vyce, we must abstaine.
But syth that now true frendship is
Of free speche spoylde, and flattry bent
To chatte, and prate of thynges amysse
Good counsels eke must nedes all stent.
And therefore nothing now remaines
For vs to doe: but to abide,
The trueth to heare, to our great paynes,
By spightfull foes, that nought wyll hyde.
When Telephus his festred wounde
Could no wise heale: with thenmies speare
VVhich first him hurt louelyfe, him bound,
To launce thesame without all feare.
Euen so must they of force agree
To byde reprofe of spightful foes:
VVhere wanteth frendes their faultes to see,
And frankly wyll thesame disclose.
Nor in this case, we should behold
Our foes intent, when they so rayle,
But if such thinges as they haue tolde,
Be true in vs, or els doe fayle.
Prothemeus of Thessalie
A grieuous sore had in his breast:
Whiche one that was his enemie,
Did cure by chaunce againste his heast.
For when he thought to haue him slain,
By dent of sword he brake the sore,
Which festred was to his great pain,
And so hym helde for euermore.
Euen so full oft it comes to passe,
That wordes yspoke for ill intent,
Do greatly helpe, some one that was
His fault tamend: ful negligent.
But most men when they are reuilde
Haue no regarde, if with such vice,
As is them tolde, they be defilde:
But sekes reuenge, by lyke aduice.
VVhere reason would that suche as are
By foes rebukte, for their offence:
Should afterward thereof beware,
And seke redresse with diligence.
Yea, more then that, without desart,
Though they vs check, for any thing:
To seke yet then, it is our part,
The cause wherof the same did spring.
And eke to feare lest eare we thought,
VVe haue the same or such lyke don
For one suspect, hath many brought
To shame, and great derision.
As thargiue kyng sir Lacydes,
Because he was so nice of gate
And eke his heere would finely dresse
VVith finger aye, was poynted ate.
And cald a man effeminat,
The lyke to Pompey dyd befall,
For that he vsde his hedde to scrat:
VVhen he no hurt, dyd thinke at all.
For none did more then he, despyse
Such wanton lust and tendernes,
VVho aye was bent to enterprise:
Thynges great of weight and hardines.
So Crassus eke to tell you plaine,
Suspected was through suche lyke tale,
For that he did as some men fayne,
Frequent full oft, a maide vestale.
And yet in dede his connyng nas,
For any hurt or ill intent:
But cer [...]ain land to hye, in cas,
He could obtayne her free concent,
Posthumia through mirth and playe,
And hauntyng oft without respect
Mens company, her name I saye
VVith infamy dyd sore infect.
For whiche she cited was tappere,
As one that had in lecherie:
Abusde her selfe, with kinsfolkes nere:
And yet she dyd no villany.
VVhom though that Spurius, whiche hight
Manutius, then bishop hye,
Of that ill fame, did cleane acquight,
He warnde her yet thus fatherly.
Posthumia, sith that thou haste,
In holy workes, thy lyfe aye ledde,
Lest wanton talke, thy name may waste
I counsell thee haue lykewyse dredde.
Themistocles, none ill had wrought,
VVhen he so often letters sent:
To Pawsanye, yet some folkes thought
To traye the realme, was his intent.
If any man thee charge therefore,
VVith thynges vntrue in euery part,
Be negligent no whit the more,
Nor lightly let them from thee start.
But take good hede, lest thou or thyne,
Hath geuen some cause, of suche ill fame,
VVhiche once founde out, thy selfe enclyne,
To learne, thencefoorth to flee thesame.
For such ill happes as comes vnwares
Do oft times teache, what is for vs,
Most mete to doe, in such lyke cares,
As Merop saith in writing thus.
VVhen fortune did me cleane depriue
Of that, whiche I estemed most:
To muche more wit I did arriue
Albeit full dere it did me cost.
By maisters then of cheaper price
VVhiche be our foes, why should we steke
In thynges vnknowen to take aduyce,
VVhiche with such cost we sometyme seke.
For they in vs doe knowe and see
A thousande thynges, whiche frendes reiect,
Because by loue they blinded bee,
VVhere foes are full of great respect.
When Hierons foe did hym reproue,
For that his breth did sauer ill:
Then to his wife, and best beloue,
With spede went he to chide his fill.
And sayde to her, why hast thou not,
To me declarde this fault of myne?
Because (quoth she) I thought god wot,
That all mens brethes had bene as thine.
Thus may you see, that frendes most deare
Our faultes nought can, so soone out fynde
As foes that aye, both farre and neare:
Fayles not to kepe suche thynges in mynde.
One vertue more, and that full goode
By foes also we maye obtayne:
VVhiche is, our tonges in angry moode,
By reasons bytte for to refraine.
For vertues such wyll not be hadde,
Except we learne in tyme to tame,
Our fierce affectes, and rageing madde,
VVherby oftimes, we come to shame.
As loe, beholde, the wrathfull man,
For lacke of wyt and temperaunce,
His foolish woordes, to stay nought can:
VVhereof doth spring muche variaunce.
This fault therfore, as Plato sayes,
Both god and man, dothe chast doubtles:
For that the rest at all assayes,
It doth excede in peuishnes.
But silence is, without all harme,
And tonges to heare, that lewdly raue
With stoutnes such, it selfe doth arme:
As Socrates was wont to haue.
Yea rather more as Hercules
For as they say, no wordes of spight,
Coulde once offende his hardines:
But as a flye them wayde so lyght.
What thynge therefore more graue may be,
Then styll to be, whilst foes do rayle,
As when we woulde take hede to fle:
Some fearefull rocke, wherby we sayle
Besydes all this, thou shalt thus leare,
Thy brawlynge wyfe, and chydinge frend
Thy brothers faultes with ease to beare,
Howe muche soeuer they offend.
I only speake of these, I say,
Because I do my selfe assure,
Thy parentes woordes and stripes alway,
Without all grudge thou wilt endure.
For what intent dyd Socrates
His frowarde wyfe, Zantip by name
At home retayne, but patientnes
To learne: abrode to vse the same.
Muche better wert suche pacience
To learne by suffryng aye thy foe:
Whose spightfull woordes with ill pretence
Do count as wynde, and let them goe.
In enmitie, thus you may see,
That pacience mylde hath greatest grace
But frendship sekes simplicitee
And frendly dedes doth most embrace
Nor it deserues so great a prayse
Thy faithfull frende to gratefie:
As it is foule when nede assayes
Of frendly helpe, hym to denye.
Our foes offence if we set lyght,
When iust reuenge in vs doth lye:
It demed is in eche mans sight
A dede, whiche doth our vertue trye.
But most renowne to him is due,
Who, as his owne, his foes disgrace
With wofull heart doth wayle and rue,
And hym to helpe doth hast a pace.
And eke his prompt to doe no lesse
When that he seeth his wife or chylde,
His man or maide in great distresse
And praying ayde with woordes full mylde.
For stony heartes haue they ywis
That would not praise so great a grace:
And thinke him worthy all mens blisse,
That mercy suche wyll than embrace.
VVhen Cesar made the Pictures faire,
Of Pompey to be set againe,
That downe were caste out of their chayre,
Muche praise thereby he did than gayne.
For Tully sayde, O worthy wight,
By tendring thus, thy foes renowne
Thou haste thyne owne, so well yplight:
As neuer power shall throwe it downe.
VVherefore I say thy mortall foe
VVhich doth deserue to haue great lande
Depriue thou not vniustly tho:
By spyghtfull meanes, or wicked fraude.
Sythe that the more thou doest him prayse,
The greater prayse thou shalt obtayne,
Besides beliefe, when to dyspraise
Thou shalt disposed be agayne.
For no man than, wyll iudge or deme,
That thou doest hate his personage:
But rather as doth best beseme,
Dost hate his vice, and yll vsage.
The best yet is, that by this way
Non enuye shall in vs remayne:
Ne shall we grudge to heare men say
Our frende to be full iust and playne.
Or all men els texcell and passe,
In this or that good qualite,
Wherat the spightfull hearte alas,
Woulde freat, and ryght sore moued be.
What vertue than more profitable
Or goodly, may our myndes retayne
Than this, wherby, we be made hable:
To purge the venome of disdayne.
In common weales, some ill decrees,
Ill custome doth so well approue
That thoughe therby some lose their fees:
Yet none with ease maye them remoue.
In enmite lykewyse we see
Be many faultes, as hatefull spight,
Of others grieues right gladde to bee
Besides suspect both daye and night.
The callinge eke of wronges to minde,
And many other hurtfull vyce,
As frawde, and guyle, and meanes to finde,
To traytours traynes our foe tentyce.
Which thinges full oft to vse with foes
We take it as none ill doutles:
And whilst our mindes we so dispose,
Our faultes remaine without redresse.
For if we neuer vse tabstaine,
Against our foes such partes to play:
Ill custome shall vs eke constrayne,
Our frendes to dresse in like aray.
Pithagoras did men denye,
To hunt, to hawke, or birde to slea
And fishe in net would often bye,
To cast againe into the sea.
No bruit beast eke, of gentle race
Would he haue slayne in any wise
Lest fierce affectes we should imbrace
Through such a cruell exercise.
More goodly, yet it were to flee
Such euill affectes throughe sufferaunce
And shewing oft our selues to bee
Right iust to foes in variaunce.
So shall we vse no kynde of guyle
Ne fraude with frendes in their affares
But shall be playne and thinke it vyle
One worde vnkinde, to speake vnwares.
When Scaurus at the lawe did sewe,
Domitius his mortall foe:
Domitius a slaue vntrewe,
Had then with him that fled him fro.
Whiche slaue forthwith to Scaurus went,
His maysters secretes, to disclose,
But Scaurus seeyng his intent:
His eares full fast, dyd stop and close.
And nought would heare against his foe,
By suche a wretche, as woulde hym tray,
Yea, more he bound hym fast also:
And home agayne hym sent straight way.
VVhen Cato lykewyse matter sought
Against Muren to fortefie
Thaccusement late before hym brought,
He nothyng dyd maliciously.
For suche as after hym dyd goe,
(As was the wont) to heare and see:
If that selfe day, dyd aske hym tho,
The matter shoulde discussed be:
To whom when he had once sayde nay,
They by and by did all depart,
And thought it true whiche he did say,
Suche faith of hym was in their hart.
But Simond saith, as euery larke,
Of force must haue his coppid creast:
So natures gifte, yf ye well marke,
Some spight doth brede, in eche mans breast.
For whiche emongest light frendes, it were
Right good, as Pyndar doth suppose:
Of ill affectes, our myndes to cleare
by powring them into our foes.
And as a sinke our foes temploy
Our filthy faultes to kepe in store,
The stenche wherof might els annoy
Our faithfull frendes, and grieue them sore.
In Syo sprang one tyme suche strife
That all the towne in factions twaine
Deuyded was: then was in lyfe,
Onomadem, a man full playne.
And curteous eke to euery wight,
VVho chaunced on that side to be
That wan the fielde by force of fight,
To whom he gaue this counsell free.
Expell not all (quoth he) your dede
That did resist: but some retayne,
Lest lacke of foes, may hatred brede,
Emongst our selues, vnto our payne.
Hesiode sayth, wheras lyke arte
Nigh neighbored, or kyndred is
The good successe of eyther parte,
Eche one tenuye it wer amisse.
But yf you can none other waye
From spight abstayne, accustome than
The welthy state and good araye
Of those your foes, to curse and ban.
For lyke as gardeners good of skyll,
The garlyke stronge: by rosis soote
Do vse to set, all sauors yll,
From them to drawe, euen from the roote.
Our foes euen so that do receiue
Our frowarde faultes, our mindes full fell
Doe ridde of griefe, whiche we conceyue,
To se our frendes to prospere well.
With foes therfore we should than striue,
For honor, rule, and true got gayne,
And not to freat when that they thryue,
Or more than we, do chaunce tattaine.
Ye rather more we should obserue
Their doinges all in euery case,
And howe they did such thinges deserue,
That learne we might them how to passe.
Themistocles was wont to tell
He could not slepe for thinking on
The victorie, that whylome fell
Milthiad to, in Marathon.
It is a slouthfull grudge and hate,
The vertues of thy foes to spight:
And none of them to imitate
Because thou thinkest they passe thy might.
But where as hate thy iudgemente clere
Corrupteth not his diligence:
And industrie doth then appere,
Which driues away thy negligence.
But if he seme in Prynces hall,
Or common weale, right hygh estate
To haue hym got by seruice thrall
Or flattring meanes, reioyce thereat.
And thinke thy selfe an happy wight,
For that thou mayst thy honest lyfe:
Compare with his in all mens sight
And win great praise withouten strife.
For Plato saith, no golde on earth
Or vnder earth, ne precious ston:
One sparke of vertue can be worth,
Whiche passeth all comparison.
Ne Solon eke, would chaunge his state
In vertue fixt for vain renowne
Ne did he care to be check mate
VVith noble men in euery towne.
He stemed not the peoples prayse
Whose wandryng wyttes are lyke the wynde
Nowe heare nowe there at all assayse
Their yea, with nay, full sone tonbynde.
No worthy state that semes to bee,
Can worthy be, in verye dede
Except the meanes therto perdee
Of worthy actes dyd first procede.
But lyke as loue, doth louers blynde
Euen so we spye, the faultes of foes
Much farther of, than we can fynde
The faultes of frendes before our noes
Reioyce not than with ioye in vayne
Because thy foe doth chaunce toffende,
Ne take no griefe without some gaine,
To se what good his workes pretende.
But ponder well these cases twayne,
His vice and vertues both I say
And first his vyce from vyce tabstaine
And therin passe him farre away.
His vertues than thou shalt doe well
To imitate in their degree:
And though thou canst not hym excell
Yet see thou be not worse than hee.
Finis.

¶ Imprinted at London by Wyllyam Seres, dwellynge at the west ende of Poules, at the Sygne of the Hedgehogge. Anno. 1561.

¶ The porte of reſte …

¶ The porte of reste.

Lyke as the mightie Oke whose rootes,
In thearth are fixed fast:
Is hable to withstande eache winde,
That blowes most boystrous blast.
Euen so eache frowarde Fortunes happe
That euer maie betyde:
The constant minde with vertue fraught
is hable to abyde.

¶ To the true louers of wisedome Iohn Asteley, mayster of the Queenes Maiestyes Iewell house, and Iohn Harington Esquier Thomas Blun­deuille, greeting.

WHilst plutarks works, I gaue my self to rede
So pleasant fruit me thought, I could none fid
As is in y t which rightly shewes in dede
The waie tappease, and still thunquiete minde.
For wheras since false flattring hope with whō
I trauelde had, long tyme full painfully,
Of comforte voide, alone me leaft to rome
The barrein coste of wretched miserye:
In stead of helping me the seas to passe
Of worldly ioyes, amongst the happy sorte,
In ship full fraught with fortunes giftes: as was
Her vowe when first to me she did resorte:
The restles muse had made my feble brayn
The forge of care, and therein daily wroughte
Such dulfull domps & d [...]eadful dreames as cleane
From mirth my mind vnto despaire had brought.
That boke did yeld such glistring beames Isay.
Of comfort great and ioyfull quietnes:
As draue those dumpes and sorowes all away
My heauy heart which helde in great distres.
So as in dede from that time foorth me thought
I coulde not chuse but nedes contented rest
And though before vaine hope much griefe hadde wrought
Yet now to think y t al was for the best.
Which comfort though it grateful was to me
In my conceyt yet did it not suffise:
Onlesse that you my faithfull frendes might be
Eke partners of the same some kinde of wise.
For as the grief of one frende dothe decreace
His other frendes, when they therof partake
His ioye euen so he shall the more encreace
If of thesame, he doth them partners make.
Into our tunge therfore this litle quaire
I turned haue, and termd the port of rest
And wishe eche wight, therto for to repaire
with troubled sprite that feeles himself opprest.
For as the mariner, in sea whose bote
With cruel stormes and tempests hath been beat
And drieuē twixt whaues & feareful rocks to flote
Though al that while dispaire his mind did freat:
Yet whē y e winds their boistrous blowing ceace
And he to hauen is safely come at last
He than reioyceth with himself in peace
And cleane forgeates al those his daungers past:
Euen so eche man within this litle port
That shall vouchesafe at times more ydley spente
To harborough a while: himselfe to sport
When he perceiues his minde to sorow bent:
To warrant him I dare be bolde I saie
That though he be in passing heauines
Yet he thereby shall quickly learne the waie
To rid his minde of all vnquietnes.
Ne shall he feare the losse in time to come
Of frendes, of goodes, of lyfe, or lyke distres
But lyue and dye, by helpe of reasons dome
In suche assured holde of quietnes:
As neyther frowarde fortunes sharpe assaultes,
Nor death himself, for all his dreadfull name
Ne malice eke with all her forged faultes
Shall be of power to ouerthrowe thesame.
To you therefore to whom I am muche bounde
And tall the rest, lo here nowe for your sake
Of this my paine suche fruite as hath redounde
In frendly wise I doe a present make.
Whose relles though it be not halfe so swete
Ne hath suche sappe of eloquence in dede
As those thinges haue whereon (as meates most mete
For deintie mouthes) you wonted are to fede.
Yet doubt I not but that vouchesafe you wyll,
To take it well in woorth, and speciallye
Sithe Budes woordes in all this treatise styll
I folowd haue in deede moste faithfullye.
Whose stile I founde to be more graue then gaye
And harde to turne into our vulguer speche,
Yet as it is refuse not when you maye
To taste thereof I humbly you beseche.
For though it hap not deintye mouthes to please
Weak stomakes yet thereby may find much ease.

PLVTARKE TO HIS frende Paccius.

THy letters myne owne good Paccius wherin thou didste exhort me to write sumwhat vnto thee, so well touchynge the quyetnes of the mynd, as also concernynge those pointes in Plato his boke called Timeo: (which to thy se­ming neded a more exquisite and plainer declaratiō:) Came very late vnto my han­des. For euen as oure frende Erotes was ready to take shippe for to sayle to­wardes Rome they were delyuered to mee in haste, by that good man Funda­nus. Whereby I not hauinge time suf­ficient to write vnto thee according to my wonte and custome of suche thynges as thou didst requyer: nor yet beinge hable to suffer suche a messenger to departe from me with emptye hande: briefly ga­thered certayne thynges entreatinge of the tranquility of the mynde out of suche Commentaries as I had written in ty­mes [Page] paste concerninge the same. Trustynge that in suche kynde of wrytinges thou wylt not looke for fyne termes and elloquent speach: But onely haue regard to the good doctrine therof, whiche maye helpe to instruct & order mans lyfe. And I thinke it already brought to some good passe. Because that althoughe thou art knyt in frendshyp (and that not after the common sorte) with great men and wor­thy Prynces, and hast also suche know­ledge and experience in matters of lawe, as thou geuist place to no man therein: yet for all that thou arte not lyke the tra­gycall Meroppes puffed vp wyth vayne glorye, or foolyshlye amased at the reioy­cynge of the people, whiche hath thee in great admiration, extolling thee with in­fynite prayses. Neyther doest thou for­get to haue harde oftimes howe that the shooe be it neuer so gay, can not heale the gowtye foote, nor the gold rynge the dys­ease in the fynger, nor yet that the ryche Crowne of golde and stone can once ease the payne of the heade. For to whom may [Page] ryches, honoure, glorye, or preheminence in Court, serue to put away griefe of the mind, or to leade a quiet lyfe? But to such, as whē they haue these thinges, cā right­ly vse them, and when they lacke theim, paciētly suffer the lacke therof. But howe can that be done? but onely by reason pre­meditate, and accustomed immediatlye to reprehende the passyble, and vnrea­sonable parte of the soule, so often as it brusteth out, and not to suffer it to raūge anye further abrode, and so to be turned out of the ryght way, by the vrgent pro­vocation of vnbrydiled affection. And therefore as Zenophon wylled all men in their prosperitie to haue moste remen­brance of the Goddes, and then, most ear­nestlye and deuoutly to worshyppe them, to thentent that the goddes beinge ther­by alreadye reconcyled and rendred more fauourable towardes them, they myght afterwarde when occasion should serue, the boldlyer make petition, and craue the thyng that should behoue thē: Euen so al sayinges & wrytinges as be most apte to [Page] appease the troubles of the minde, ought amongst men that haue reason to be first hydde and fyxed in the mynd, to the intent that suche thynges beinge prepared of a longe time before, when nede shoulde re­quier myght serue them to most aduaun­tage. For as chourlyshe mastyffes be mo­ued with euerye noyse: and yet quieted by one knowen voyce wherunto they be commonlye vsed: Euen so it is very harde for man to quiet the outragious and bestial affectes of the mynd, except he hath some famylyer and accustomed preceptes and lessons redye at hande to styll the feruent rage therof. But suche as thynke that to leade a quyet lyfe, it behoueth not to do many thynges, nor to be muche occupied eyther in priuate or publyque affayres: those wolde make vs to bye the tranquil­lity of the lyfe full deare. Syth that then, it coulde not be gotten but by slouth and ydlenes, exhortynge euery man therunto as thoughe he were sycke, by that tragy­call verse, whiche sayth in this wyse.

[Page]
Abyde thou seely wretch, and moue not from thy bedde,
Wherin thou maiest lye warme, & eke full well befedde.

For yf preuye slouthe be to the bodye a hurtfull Medicine: than sluggishnes, de­licatenes, and fayntnes of corage whiche causeth a manne to forsake bothe kyffe, kynne, and country, is lyke wyse as euill a phisicion to heale the sycknes and trou­ble of the mynde. Moreouer it is repug­naūt to trueth, to say y t those men which do least laboure and seldomist trauell a­brode, do leade most quiet lyfe. For then women shoulde lyue muche more quietly then men. Because that women for the most part do tarye at home doinge lyttle, and what they do, they do it syttynge on theyr stooles. And yet as Hesiodus saith, thoughe the colde Northene wynde can­not by violence breake in, to blow vppon the younge and tender Damoyselles: yet grieffes, troubles, sorowes, and euyll dis­posicions of the mynde throughe Ielou­sy, supersticion, vayne glorye, & suche lyke innumerable vyces do finde the meanes secretlye to creape into their preuye dor­ters. [Page] It is sayd also that Laertes forsoke his Countrey, his house, and the Court it selfe, and liued .xx. yeres in a litle Cottage all alone by him selfe, hauing none other compaignie, but a sely olde womā which serued him of meate and drinke. And yet for all that he had both sorowfulnesse of heart, and heauinesse in countenaunce, to be his compaignions mawgre his head. Yea what wyll you saye if this doyng of nothing, hath oft times disturbed manye mens wits and sences: as you may reade in Homer speakinge of Achilles in thys sort.

Here sittes in shippe, Achilles swift whom Ioue begot
To fury bente, refusing firmely nowe to fyght
Of all the Lordes & cōmons eke, esteming not
The counsels wise: which cause mans fame to shine full bright
He faintes in heart, and yet furthwith to fight oothe crye
And moues hymselfe, the feates of cruell Mars to trye.

And therfore he being sore greued to se hymselfe so lost with ydlenesse: in a great rage reproued hym selfe, sayinge in this wyse.

Lo here I sitte, full like a heauye lumpe of clay,
This Nauewe great, to kepe in ydlenes alway.

Wherefore Epicurus hymself the fau­tour and mainteynor of all pleasure and voluptuousnesse woulde not haue those that by nature are ambicious & desirous of glory to geue themselues to ydlenesse: but rather to folowe nature as their guide, & to seke to beare rule & offyce in a common wealthe. For suche menne as be naturally enclyned to bee doyng: cannot quietlye suffer to be depriued of y e thynge wherin they moste delyghte. Notwithstā ­dyng he is vnwise that wyll chose suche menne into a common wealth, as cannot moderate themselues and forbeare y e rule therof: rather then those that bee hable, bothe to rule themselues and the commō wealthe also. Thus then you see it is not meete, to measure the quietnes and carefulnesse of the mynde by multytude or fewnesse of affayres. For it is no lesse trouble and griefe to leaue vndoone that whiche is good and honeste, then to doe that which is nought and vile. But there be some whiche will prescribe & appoint themselues before, to folowe one certain [Page] kynde of lyfe, which they take to be voyde of all care & trouble, as to bee husbande­menne, or to lyue vnmaried, or elles to be Prynces and rulers: whiche sort of men how much they be deceyued, Menander dothe playnelye declare, by these wordes here folowynge.

I thinke, O Phania that rytche men whi­che haue no nede to borowe vppon vsurye to pay their creditors, do not lye tumblyng and tossyng in their beddes, lamentyng in the nyght season by them selues, and cry­inge out full ofte wooe is me: but do sleepe swetelye and quietlye.

But proceading a lytle further, he found the ryche to be no lesse troubled then the poore. For life (sayeth he) and trouble ben as it were of one kynd, and borne both at one byrthe. For trouble is compaignyon to the voluptuous and delicate lyfe, and waxeth olde with the poore & miserable lyfe. But as those that be fearefull, of a weake stomake, and not hable to brooke the Seas: when they saile on the Seas, wyll remoue manye tymes out of a lyttle [Page] Bote into a great shippe and from thence into a galey, thinckynge therby to be im­mediatly easid of their griefe, vntyll such time they feele that they profite nothing in so doinge, because that wheresoeuer they go, they cary with them that Choo­ler & fearefulnes whych is wythin thē: Euen so the oftē chaūge of sōdry kindes of life cannot delyuer the mynd frō suche grieffes and troubles as these be. That is to saye Ignoraunce, and lacke of Ex­perience, foolishe rashnes, lacke of know­ledge and power to vse thinges presente in their due kynde. For these be the thin­ges that v [...]xe both ryche and poore, and trouble so well the maryed as the vnma­ryed. Nor none other cause then thys doth make suche as haue forsaken the ci­tie for to dwell in the Country: to be wea­rye againe of the Countrey, and to re­tourne eftsones into the Cytye. These thinges also cause many men whiche by great helpe and importunate sute, haue placed themselues in kynges Courtes: a­none after, to repente their laboure so be­stowed. [Page] A sicke man as Ion sayeth is a verye vnpleasaunt thinge, for he cannot abyde his wyfe, he blameth his Phisici­on and is angry with his bedde. Yf hys friende commeth to vysite him he dothe but trouble hym. And if he departe from hym, he dothe againe offende him. But after that hys dysease begynneth to as­swage and to be somewhat more tempe­rate: Then commeth healthe by litle and lytle, makinge all thinges delectable and pleasaunte. In suche sorte that whereas the daye before he dyd lothe newe layde Egges, deintye Brothes, and the fyneste breade that might be gotten: The nexte daye after, can hungerlye eate a peece of common bread, with a few cresses. Of suche importaunce is a good discorse in all chaunges of the life, thonely force wherof procureth the happye lyfe. It is sayed that when Alexander hearde the Philosopher Anaxharcus, affirmynge in disputation, that there were innumera­ble worldes: he weapte for sorowe. And [Page] beynge demaunded by his frendes what iuste cause he had to wepe: he aunswe­rid. Haue we not iuste cause (quod he) to weepe: sythe there be so manye worldes and we be not as yet lordes of one? But Crates the porely clad Philosopher, con­trarywise consumed all hys life to the laste daie in sporte & laughter as though they were all festiuall dayes. Agamem­non likewise kynge of the Micens was not a little troubled, for that he had the rule of so manye men. Of whom Homer talking saieth thus.

Thou knowest righte well Atreus son.
That clepid, is Agamemnon
Whome moste of all with Labors great
Ioues pleasure is, to vexe and freat.

When Diogenes the Phylosopher was in the markette amongst others to be solde, and was commaunded by the Cry­er which should sell him to rise vppe: He woulde not so doe, but ieasted wyth the Cryer demaunding of him, if he brought a fishe to sell whither he would bydde it [Page] rise vppe or not? So litle he estemed hys mysserable state. Did not Socrates lyke­wise being in prisō fast cheined & fettred, stoodye wisedome and dyspute of phylo­sophye amongst his disciples and Scho­lars? But looke agayne on thother syde howe Phaeton clymyng vp into the hea­uens, with weeping teares complayned, because that no mā would geue him the gouernement of his fathers horse & cha­riot. As the shooe is wont to be wriethed and turned to serue a crooked foote, and not contrarywise the foote to fitte a croo­ked shooe: Euen so the state and disposi­tion of the mynde, must make euery kinde of lyfe that is offred, semblable and agre­yng to her selfe. Nor it is not custome as some men affirme, whiche maketh plea­saunte the lyfe that they haue chosen as best for themselues: But rather wisedom maketh thesame life best, and moste plea­saunt. Therefore lette vs firste labour to pourge, to purifie, and to make so cleane as is possible, the flowyng fountayne of the tranquilitie of the minde, whiche is [Page] within vs, to thintent that we may make all outwarde thinges commyng vnto vs by chaunce: plyant, and apte to serue the purpose, through our patient sufferance. For though thinges doe not succede well accordyng to oure desire: yet it behoueth not vs to be angrie therwith, sithe angre thereto nought appertayneth. Yea, he is to be praised that by arte and pollecy can soonest redresse suche euyll successe. And therefore Plato compared mans lyfe to the dice playe, in the which although the player oughte to desier euery beste caste: yet howe so euer it chaunceth, he muste take skilfull heede to dispose eche caste in the beste wyse that he can, according as the chaunce will beare it. Of whiche two thynges, the one, that is the chaunce of the dye, consisteth not in oure power. But the other lyeth in vs to perfourme. That is to saye if we be wise, to take pacientlye whatsoeuer chaunseth, and tappoynte e­uery one his right place, in such sort that whatsoeuer chaunseth well, may bee ap­plied to most aduauntage, & that whiche [Page] happeneth otherwise to leaste damage. But foolishe men and vnexperte, in kno­wing howe to liue: be like vnto a diseased body whiche can neither suffer heate nor colde. For in prosperitie they be fresh and gaye, and looke pleasauntlye. But in ad­uersitie they bende the browes and looke all frowardlye. And therefore both states doe trouble them, yea rather in them both they trouble themselues. And no lesse also bee they troubled in those thinges which of them selues are thoughte to bee good. Theodorus which surnamed is Atheus, was wonte oftetimes to saie, that he rea­ched furth his woordes with the ryghte hande, but they receaued them with the left, euen so fares thignorant sort, which when fortune many tymes woulde come vnto them on the right side: they moste vndecentlye turnyng themselues awaye, doe place her on the lefte. But muche bet­ter doe the wisemen, whiche lyke as bees doe make honie, whiche is of all thynges moste sweete, of Thyme the driest hearb and of most bitter Iuyce: So they of most [Page] harmefull thinges doe choose oute many tymes, some thinge that is to them bothe meete and profitable. Whiche thynge is most chiefly to be studied and with much exercise of the minde to bee laboured. For as he that when he had throwen a stone at a snarlyng bitche, and missing her, vn­willynglye by chaunce hit his stepdame: saide vnto hymselfe that his throwe was not altogether euill bestowed: euē so whē chaunce chaunceth not according to our desier, we maie amende it, and apply it to some other vse. Diogenes was banished out of his coūtrey, and yet this had none euyll successe, for the same banishemente gaue hym firste occasion to studie Philo­sophie. Zenon Citicus being become of a Philosopher, a notable riche merchaunt by misfortune loste all that he had saue one shippe, whiche afterwarde, when he heard that it was also loste by tempeste in the Sea, together with all his monne and marchandise fraighted in the same: he saide.

[Page]O Fortune how nobly hast thou dealt with me, thus to driue me vnto the Philosophical hauen, and to weare again that vnaccustomed apparel.

What dothe lette vs then but that we maye take example at these men and fol­lowe them? Haste thou bene depriued of anye office in the citie? goe then into the countrey, and attende thyne own priuate affayres. Hast thou by importunate sute, labour to creepe into thy Princes fauor, and suffered crepulse therin? Thou shalt then thereby liue in safetie, & free from al maner of charge and commission of hys affaires. But perhappes contrarywyse, thou art troubled with to manye offyces & wrapte in too many cares: I say to thee that warme water dothe not so muche noorishe and comforte the tender and de­licate bodye (as sayeth Pyndarus) as ho­nor, and glorie, ioyned with power, and aucthoritie, dothe make laboure to seeme pleasaunt, and easily employed. But thou art offended and grieued because others do talke of thee, or beare thee enuy, or vn­iustlye slaunder thee: well, this is but a prosperous wynde meete to carye thee [Page] vnto the Musis and into thuniuersities. As it chaunced to Plato, at suche times as he was taken vnwares with the frēd­ship of Dionisius, as though it had bene with a cruel storme or tempest. And ther­fore it helpeth not a litle towardes y e qui­eting of the minde, diligently to note and to marke thexamples of the worthie and famous men, whether perchaunce they haue suffred the lyke euyll at anye tyme, through the lyke occasion. As for exaum­ple, the losse of thy children doeth grieue thee: beholde then the Kynges of Rome, wherof there was not one that left a sōne behind him to enherite y e kingdōe. Thou canst not paciently endure pouertie: whō then wouldest thou wish to be amongste the Boetians, rather thē Epaminondas, or amongst the Romains, rather thē Fa­britius? But putte case thy wife bee nought of her bodie. Well, doest thou not knowe that Epigram of Aegides which is in Delphos? Haste thou not heard also howe that Alcibiades defiled Aegides wife called Timea, and howe she her self [Page] was wont to cal the childe y t she brought furth Alcibiades, and to whisper in her maydens eares that they lykewise should so cal him? and yet Aegides was no more letted by this, to proue a right noble and famous man: then Stilpo the Philoso­pher was letted by the vnchastnes of his daughter, to leade a merier lyfe then all the Philosophers in his tyme. Whyche thing being afterwards cast in his teeth, by one Metrocles: is then saieth he, thys my faulte, or my daughters? The other answered, that the fault was his daugh­ters, but the euill chaunce and mishappe was his. How can that be (quoth he?) For be not faultes necligent, ouersightes and humain frailties? The other aunswered, yes in deede. But then (quoth Stilpo,) be not the necligente ouersightes the errors also of them that be ouerseen? Metrocles aunswered, yes certainly. Why then said Stilpo should not therrours be the mys­fortunes of those y t haue so erred? By such kind of pleasāt talk & Philosophical qui­etnes he declared the obiectiōs of thother [Page] to be no other thing, but the slaunderous talk & vain barkinges of a currish felow. There be many also that be not only mo­ued with the vices of their frendes & kins­folkes, but also with those of their ene­mies. For wheras opprobrious woordes, anger, enuy, dishonestie, spightfull ielou­sie, shuld most chiefly distain those mē in whom thei raigne: yet the self same vices trouble also & moue thignorant sorte, no lesse thē the displeasures of theyr owne kinsfolks, or the frowardnes of their frē ­des & familiars, or the wicked wittes & e­uil disposed mindes of theyr owne slaues & seruantes, wherwith thou thy selfe al­so as it seemeth to me, art wont to be mo­ued. For as those Phisicions that be mē ­cioned in Sophocles do purge bitter choler with a bitter medicine: euē so thou art wōt to be angry with y e diseases & naugh­ty dispositiōs of other mens myndes, & w t like bitternes of thine own mind (which is litle to thi worship) to answer thē. And therfore those thinges which thou doest, be not done w t a gentle & plaine behauior, [Page] the meetest instrumente for the purpose, but for the most part after a rough, croo­ked, and frooward sort? And as to correct this faulte, is more then thou canst well performe: so it is also in dede not very ea­sy to be done. But if thou couldest applye those thinges to their right vse wherun­to they were ordeyned, like as Chyrurgi­ans do their toothe drawing instrumēts, their laūcing kniues, & closinge boocles, and shewe in thy selfe suche meekenesse & modestie euery where according as occa­sion dothe requier: thou shouldest bee no more offended with the leude behauiour and wickednesse of others, then reioyced within thy selfe with the conscience of thyne owne affection. For thou shouldest thinke it no more vnmeete for suche per­sones so to dooe: then it is vnnaturall for dogges to barke. But yf thou be so feable and weake of courage that thou wilt suf­fer thy selfe to bee opprest by other mens euils: nombers of griefes flowynge into thee, as into an abiect place lowe couched & apt to receiue y e same, shall ouerwhelme [Page] thee, thou miserable man waxinge euery daie more sicker thē other. Yea what wil you saye, yf manye of the Phylosophers haue reproued the compassiō wherwith we are moued when we see anye man in miserie, affirmyng it to be the parte of a good manne, to helpe his kinsfolkes and neighbours, when they be afflicted with misery, and are by fortune ouerthrowen: but not to be partakers of their sorow, or to yelde to fortune with like subiectiō of the mynde. Yea and that whiche to euery mans iudgement seemeth a greate deale more straunge. Though we knowe oure selues to haue offended and to bee of a naughtie disposition: yet for all that they wyll not suffer vs to bee sorowfull in our mynd for the same, because those thinges ought to be corrected and amended (saye they) without griefe or heauinesse of the mynde. If thinges be thus, consider well whether it bee not a foule thyng for vs to be displeased and angry, whensoeuer a­ny man with whom we haue to do, doth perhappes deale with vs somewhat vn­gentlye [Page] or extremely. But I feare me (O most frendly Paccius y t self loue doth de­ceiue vs, & that we be not so muche grie­ued with other mens offēces, as pleased with our owne desertes. For the vehemēt affecting & inordinate folowynge of cer­tain things, or contrarywise thauoiding & abhorring of the same, otherwyse then honestie requireth: dothe breede manye times debate and strife amongst mē, and causeth the one to be offended with the o­ther, whilest thone doth attribute to tho­thers fault, for that he hath bene preuen­ted of this commoditie, or hath fallen in­to that daunger. But if a man coulde ac­cordinge to the successe of thinges vse to frame himself euery waye in a moderate sort: that man with great facilitie might learne to liue with all men in all places. But nowe let vs returne againe to those thinges, from the whiche we haue for a while digressed. As those that bee sicke of an ague to whom all thinges dooe seeme bitter so soone as they taste thereof, vntyll they see that others without makyng a­ny [Page] signe of bitter taste, dooe gredelye eate those meates which they did so lothsom­ly spit out: do no lenger thē attribute the fault to y e meate or to the drink, but to thē selues & to their sicknes: euen so if we see that others with great quietnes of mind & with a mery countenance, do performe the selfesame thynges which we passe o­uer with greate regreate and sorowfull complaintes: let vs thē leaue at length to be so muche greued and offended with y e thynges themselues. But for to reteygne a constant mynde in tyme of aduersitie, it is verye necessarie and expediente, not to passe ouer with winking eyes those thin­ges which luckely according to oure desi­er at any time haue chaūced vnto vs, & so with a meete mixture y e euill mishaps, w t happye happes to recōpense. To recreate our eyes, whē thei bee daseled with ouer­much beholding of glistering things, we vse to turne thē away, & to behold pleasāt grene herbs & floures. And yet our minds we do cōtrarywise dispose to Melācholy & sorowfull thynges, forceyng it to haue [Page] remembraunce of thinges most worthye repentaunce, and by violence we pul it a­waye whether it wyll or not from suche thynges as are to be commended & prai­sed. And nowe it commeth to my remem­braunce, that to this purpose may be ve­ry well applied the sayinge whiche was sometyme spoken againste a curious fel­lowe that busilye searched after other mens matters nothynge apperteynynge vnto him.

Why a mischief doest thou most spightful mā with kites eyes so narrowlye marke other mens faultes, and with the eyes of an Owle blindly passest ouer thine owne.

Euen so thou happye man, why doest thou so diligently regard thy griefes and euyll mishappes, makyng them alwayes presente and freshe before thyne eyes by continuall remembraunce, and turneste thy mynde from present ioye and prospe­ritie. And lyke as scaryfyinge cuppes wherewyth Phisitians vse to drawe the foulest bloud out of the flesh: so thou doest gather thy woorst thynges into thy self. [Page] Being in that case no better then y e mar­chant of Syo, who though he sold much wyne, yea and that principall good to o­thers: yet sought out alwayes for himself that which was soure and without ver­dure. Whose seruaunte beyng on a tyme fledde from him was demaunded of one what cause had constrayned hym to for­sake his maister? because (quoth he) my maister hauing good thinges in his cus­tody wil take no part therof, but alwaies for himselfe seeketh the woorst. There be many lyke this man, whiche forsakynge the sweetest drinkes doe take them vnto the sowrest and most harshe of taste. But Aristippus did not so, who beinge placed as it were betwixte a paire of ballaunce, would not discende into the heauiest and most preste downe with euils, but moun­ted vp to the higheste and least chargied with griefe. For when he had lost the ple­santeste lordship that he had: he spake to one of those men which showed thēselues to be very sorie for the losse thereof and to lament muche his fortune: in thys wise. [Page] Doest thou not know (quoth he) that thou hast but one litle ferme to liue on, and I haue three manours with the demeanes yet left hole vnto my self? that is true said the other. Why, then (quoth he) should not I be rather sory for thee, then thou for me? For it is very mad [...]es to bee sorye for things lost, & not to reioyce in thinges sa­ued. And as litle children whē any man, of many thinges taketh but one litle tri­fle from them doe weepe and crye out ca­styng all the rest awaie: euen so we being in any one lytle thinge by fortune distur­bed: we lament and complaine reiectynge all the rest as vnprofitable. But some mā perchaunce would saie what haue we to reioyce in? yea rather, what haue we not? This manne hathe greate honour, that manne a faire house, this manne a wyfe, according to his mynde, that manne a faythfull frende. Antipater tarsensis countynge in hys deathe bedde vppon hys fyngers all the good thynges that euer he hadde in hys lyfe tyme: dyd not omytte so muche as hys prosperous sai­lynge [Page] oute of Cilitia vnto Athens. Nor these common thynges oughte to be neg­lected, yea we ought to make some compt of them. As for that we lyue and bee in healthe also for that we see the Sunne, and that there is neyther warre nor sedi­cion, that the lande is errable, and the Sea easye for euerye manne to saile on, finally for that it is free for vs to speake, and to keepe sylence to bee occupy­ed and to bee ydle. But the presence of these thynges woulde gieue vs the grea­ter occasion of quietnesse: if we woulde fyxe in oure mynde the Image of thab­sence and lacke of the same. Oftentimes admonyshynge oure selues howe great­lye healthe is desyred of them that bee sycke, and peace wyshed for of those that bee troubled with warre. And howe muche the straungyer beynge of lowe degree, desyereth to gette honour and fame in suche a noble Citye, and agayne howe bitter a thyng it is to lose y t which was once gotten. For in mine oppinion none of these thynges, or suche lyke, [Page] ought to be estemed or wished for, beynge once lost: sithe that nothing is to bee the more regarded for that it leaueth to haue his being: nether yet ought we to possesse these thinges as thinges of excellencye or to kepe them with suche carefulnes, wat­ching them continually least we shoulde be spoiled of them as of thinges of pryce: yea rather though we safely possesse thē, yet as transitorie thinges we oughte to neglecte them and litle regarde them. For these thinges ought to be vsed and enioyed with pleasure, and chiefly to thentent that if we should chance to lose them: we might the more quietly and moderately suffer the losse thereof. But many as Ar­chesilaus saith, thinke it labour well be­stowed one man to come after another in course and order for to beholde with fix­ed eye, and minde, the poesies, pictures, & ymages of others: neglecting their owne lyfe, whiche though it hath many consy­deracions and aduertisementes and that not vnpleasāt: yet they turnyng their eies another way, do rather consider & behold [Page] other mens fortunes, lyke aduouterers, whiche abhorring their owne wiues, do couet other mens, leading their lyues in great errour. For it importeth muche to­wardes the preseruinge of the minde in this constant estate: first for a mā to weye and ponder himself and his own peculi­er thinges, Or if he will not so do then to beholde and to consider his inferiours. And not contrarywise as the cōmon sort doth, to maruaile at those whom fortune dothe extoll and aduaunce to the hyghest degree of honoure and riches, so often as she is disposed to daly and play with thē. As for example, suche as remaine bound and cheined in prison, thinke those to bee happy y t be discharged and set at libertie. And those that bee set at libertie, compte them happiest y t haue bene alwaies free & neuer imprisoned, & they that haue been alwaies free, compt them happy that bee free of the citie. Again those that bee free of the citie, iudge them fortunate that bee riche. The riche, the rulers, the rulers, the kinges, the kings, the goddes, which also [Page] be not contente with their rule and king­dome, excepte they haue power to sende downe lightnynge and thunder. So that when they cannot bee equall with theyr superiours: they neuer keepe themselues within their owne precinct. I care not (sayth Thasius) for all the riches of that notable riche manne Giges, nor dooe I muche maruayle at them, nor I seeke not to counterfaite the maruailous woorkes of the goddes, nor yet dooe I greately de­sier to haue rule or dominion. For these thynges be farre from my thoughte and cleane out of my sight, thus spake Tha­sius. But loe, on the contrarye syde one of Syo, and also another of Galathia, & one of Bithynia, who not contented to haue gotten honor, and offyce of rule amōgst his Citizens: doeth yet complayne wyth weepyng teares, for that he is not one of the Senate house, whiche yf thou shoul­deste graunte hym, yet it woulde not contente hym excepte he myghte bee also Pretor, nor to bee Pretor, excepte hee myght bee Consull, whiche thoughe at [Page] lengthe hee obteygned: yet woulde hee not bee satysfyed, onlesse hee myghte bee firste publyshed and proclaymed. What is thys I praye you, but a tormen­tynge and a contynuall punyshynge of hym selfe, accusynge Fortune of ingra­tytude. But the wyse manne, thoughe of so greate a noumber of mortal menne: as we bee that lyue in thys worlde enioy­inge the lyghte of the Sunne, and are fedde wyth the fruytes of the earthe: hee seeth one or twoo to excell hym, eyther in honoure or rychesse, yet dooeth not hee for all that fytte lamentynge by hym selfe and wryngynge hys handes toge­ther, but rather consyderynge howe well he is dealte wyth, in respecte of an infinyte noumber that bee in myse­rye: he reioyseth wyth hym selfe and embraceth hys owne estate and condy­cion of lyfe. At the Playes of pryses, it was lawefull for no manne to procede Mayster of fence, or to bee accompted as vanquerour, excepte he had played wyth [Page] euery one that came first to hande, with­out any choise or eleccion permitted at al. And yet in our lyfe there is suche varietie of thinges, that euery man hath leaue to choose many with whose estate he maye compare himselfe and his estate. And to take therby occasion tencourage hymself, & to shewe himself more meete to be mer­uailed at of others, then he to maruayle at them, except he be so impudent that he would looke to be fellowe vnto Briareus or to Hercules. And therfore whensoeuer thou liftest vp thy heade to beholde anye noble manne borne a loft in a Chayer on mennes shoulders: cast downe thine eyes by and by to looke also vppon them that beare him. Againe so often as thou shalte maruaile at Xerxes and compt him hap­py, for that he had suche power to make a bridge ouer the sea called Helles Pontus for him and all his armye to passe: consy­der then also the miserable slaues that by stripes of whippes were then forced to digge in the mountain Athos, & to make waie there, for the sea to passe, and howe [Page] some of them were mangled and hewed, and loste both nose and eares, by meanes that the bridge beyng broken by rage of sea fell down vpon them, and think that they woulde extoll thee and thy condiciō of lyfe with infinite praises. When a cer­taine frende of Socrates came vppon a time vnto him complainyng y t all things in the citie were solde at excessiue pryces, for wyne of Syo was at .xl.s. purple at vi.li. and half a pint of hony at .xx.d. So­crates takyng him by the hande brought him into the storehouse of meale, and told him that he might haue half a pinte of y t for a halfpeny, and therefore corne was cheape. Thē he led him into y e oile seller, and showed him that he mighte haue a pynt of that for two brasse pence, where­fore quoth he all thinges in the citie bee not deare. Euen so if we heare anye man say that our estate is verye poore and mi­serable, because we bee not consulls or beare some other high office in the citye: we maye aunswer him againe, that oure estate and condicion of life is right excel­lente [Page] and honourable, for that wee haue no neede to begge from doore to doore, nor to beare heauye packes and burthens on oure shoulders as the porters dooe, nor yet lyke Parasites to folowe and to flat­ter greate menne for a dyner sake. But thoughe wee bee come to suche madnesse that oure lyfe seemeth to depende more of other mennes, then of it selfe: and that oure nature is so degenerate, and wyth enuyous affectes corrupted, that wee bee not so muche reioyced wyth oure owne, as grieued wyth other mennes prosperi­tye: yet I saye yf thou wouldest not onely beholde the famouse thynges and woor­thye to bee seen, that are in those menne, whome thou thynkeste to bee so happye, and to bee as they saye, in goddes lappe: but also wouldest draw back that good­lye fayre vayle, and outewarde showe of theyr glorye, and looke further in: truely thou shouldeste fynde manye of theyr in­trayles to bee ryght sower and grieuouse to beholde. When that Pittacus who is yet so famous for the greate wysedom, [Page] fortytude, and Iustyce, wherewyth hee was endewed, enterteygned at hys Ta­ble certayn gheastes whom he hadde en­uyted to hys house: it is sayde that hys wyfe commynge in sodaynlye, ouerthrew the boorde in a greate rage and layed all the meate on the floore, wherewyth hee perceauyng his gheastes to be somwhat moued, sayde thus vnto them. Euerye one of you is grieued wyth some kynde of euyll, and yet I in this kynde of state as you see, dooe alwayes thynk my selfe maruaylouslye well dealte wyth all. Thys manne in the Markette place is iudged to bee fortunate and happye, but so soone as hee commeth wyth in hys owne doores, hee seemeth to bee (I wyll not saye a wretche or a myser) but euen verye myserye it selfe. For there, hys wyfe possesseth all, and ruleth al imperiouslye at her owne wyll, wyth whome hee muste contynuallye, fyghte, chyde, and brawle, Yet sayde hee to his ghea­stes, manye thynges dooe grieue you, [Page] but nothing cā grieue me at all. The like troubles be incident also to states of ho­nour, to riche men, yea, and to kynges thē selues, and yet not marked of the rude & vnlearned sorte, because the courtayne of pride and glorye is drawen before theyr eyes, behinde the which al thinges lieth hidden. And therfore thei hauing regard only to the prosperitie, and not to the ad­uersitie of other men, doe saye with Ho­mer.

Howe happy was Agamemnon
Of all the greekes moste woorthy wight
To whom all fate gaue place alon
Whilste fortune gaue her childe suche might.

But this straunge kinde of felicitie or happines, did consiste in harnesse, horses, and hostes of men gathered aboute hym, and therefore heare nowe againe, the in­warde voice of his sorowfull mynde, cry­ing oute againste the insolency of suche glory.

In grieuous cares and deadly smart
Thus Ioue hath wrapte my woofull hart.

And therefore he compted those most happy that were free from all perill, ne­uer aduaunced to honor but dyed wyth­out [Page] glorie. With these and suche like kind of discourses, a man by litle and litle pull out of his minde that iniquitie, which is alwaies complaining and blamyng for­tune, and eleuate his desperate mynde, whiche whilest it hath others in admira­cion: doeth reiect and abase it selfe and al that it possesseth. For truely it doth greatly breake the quiete state of the mind, whē a man towardes the atcheauing of anye thing doth force himself aboue his pow­er, and as it were, beareth a greater sayle then his proporcion requireth. For beyng led by a litle reioyceing hope, we rashelye promyse great thinges to our selues, and then if the successe doe not aunswer ther­to accordingly: we accuse fortune & oure Aungell of vniustnesse and partialitie. Whereas we ought rather to condemne our selues of small discretion, and foolish rashenesse. As though we shoulde bee an­grye with Fortune, because we cannot shoote an arrowe out of a plowe, or hunt the Hare with an oxe, & as though some vniust god did hinder those that vainlye [Page] wente aboute to hunte the Harte in cha­riottes, and not to bee rather angry with oure owne madnesse and foolyshnesse in attempting to bryng to passe thinges vn­possyble. The cause of this erroure, is none other, but onely selfe loue, for why­lest menne that loue themselues to much: dooe attribute with greate comparyson, the chiefest honour in all places to theym selues: they waxe so headye and so stub­burne, that they leaue no enterprise vnat­tempted. Nor it is not ynoughe for them to be ritch, eloquente and pleasaunt com­paignions at the boord, yea to be frended with kinges, to beare rule and office, ex­cept they maye haue also the best dogges, the fairest horses, cockes, & quayles, with other like birdes of pleasure, for els they can neuer bee quiete in minde. Dionisius thelder was not contented to be the grea­test and most mightie Tiraunt that was in his time, but thinking it al to litle and far vnworthy his estate, because he was not also so good in vercefying as Philoxenus the Poet, nor so eloquēt as Plato: he [Page] was moued thereby to wrathe whiche o­uercame him. And therefore he banished Philoxenus into Latumias & sent Pla­to to be sold in Aegina. But Alexāder did not so, at such time as he contended with Brison, whose chariot should runne swif­test, for (thei say) he was highly displeased with Brison, because y t Brison to flatter him did not his best, but suffered hym to win the race. Wherefore Homer speaking of Achilles and Vlisses, did verye well to geue eache manne his due prayse in this wise.

Of all the greekes there was not one
In chiualrye that could him passe
But lawe to pleade suche one there was
As hym excelde who was alone.

Megabisus perses cōming on a time in­to Apelles shoppe began to talke I know not what of the arte of paynctyng whose vnskylfull pratynge Apelles not suffe­ring: sayde thus vnto him. Before that thou dyddeste vtter thy selfe by thy talke, wee hadde somme good oppynion of thee, beecause thy garmentes of Golde [Page] and purple did beautify and set furth thy silence. But nowe the very boyes of my shoppe whiche grinde my coolours, dooe laughe at these thy foolyshe bablynges. Some thinke that the Stoykes do mock vs, for that they doe not onely constitute and ordaine their wiseman (whiche they faine vnto themselues) to be prudent, iust, and valyaunt, but also they call hym an Oratour, an Emperoure, a Poet, and fy­nally a kinge, and yet these glorious men abouesaide, be not ashamed to attrybute al these names to themselues. And if thei perceiue at lengthe that they cannot at­tayne to them all: they bee immediatelye greued, and dooe take it verye heauelye, Whiche thing how reasonable it is, thei themselues may easily see. Sythe they knowe that y e goddes themselues bee cō ­tente eache one, with his peculier and sō ­dry name. As this god because he hath y e rule of warre and battayle, is surnamed Emialius, and that other because he is God of prophecies, Mantous, & another for that he is God of gayne and lucre [Page] Cerdous. Wherfore you shall read in Ho­mer, howe that Iupiter forbad Venus to intermedle with warrelyke affayres as thinges not appertayninge vnto her, and commanded her to take cure and charge onely of matters of weddyng, of bedding, and of pleasure. Beside this some of those thinges whiche seeme woorthie to be de­sired of vs, are of a contrary nature one to another. As for example it behoueth hym that endeuoureth himselfe to studye elo­quence, or any other of the liberal sciēces, to be quiet and free from all worldlye af­faires. For office in the citie, and the frēd­ship of kinges, are woont to cause muche businesse, and often to cal away the mind from his determinate purpose. Also the aboundaunt vse of wine and fleshe, ma­keth the body strong and mete to wrastle, but it maketh the mynde weake & frayle. Finally in gathering and heaping vp of riches, a man must vse great diligence tē ­crease them, and as great carefulnesse in kepyng them. Cōtrarywise the despising of them, and to set nought by them, is a [Page] great helpe and furtheraunce towardes the studye of Philosophy and as it were the first practising of thesame. Wherfore al men cannot haue al thinges. And ther­fore it behoueth euery man tobay the pre­ceptes of Pittachus, that therby he may learne to knowe himself, and so to consult with nature, & to folow her as his guide, by applying himself to some one certayne thing, rather then by passing from one kinde of life vnto an other, to force nature. The horse is mete for the cart, the oxe for the plowe, the Dollphin for the ship, and the fierce mastife for the wilde bore. For if a manne would be grieued because the mightye stronge Lyon cannot bee lyke a litle fawnyng dogge daintelye fedde in a widdowes lappe: truelye he myghte bee wel compted for a very foole. And he like­wyse shoulde not one whit be better, that would take vppon him bothe at one time to wryte of the worlde, and to searche oute the naturall causes of thynges, lyke as Empedocles, Plato, or Democritus dyd: as also attende to embrace an olde [Page] woman for rychesse sake as Euphorion dydde. Or elles would bee like vnto those that were wonte to spende the most part of the nyghte in bankettyng and reueling with Alexander, as Medius did, and yet to thynk such plesure to be nothing at al, except for rychesse he myghte bee also no lesse notable then Ismenia, and for ver­tue, no lesse famouse then Epaminondas. Those that runne for the beste game, bee content with theyr rewarde, and dooe easilye suffer the wrestlers to enioye to theymselues, those Crownes of glorye that they haue wonne. Haste thou got­ten Sparta (sayeth Solon) to bee thy Countrey? then adourne it wyth good lawes and ordynaunces. But we would not (sayeth the same Solon) chaunge with you oure vertue for youre richesse. For vertue is a stable thynge, and the propertye thereof maye bee possessed. But rychesse are onelye graunted too mannes vse for a time, passinge oft from one to another. Strato the naturall Phylosopher, when hee hearde that [Page] Meuedemus had more scholers then he: said, is it so muche to be maruayled at, y e more desier to bee washed then to bee an­nointed? Aristotle writinge to Antipater said, that Alexāder was much to be prai­sed and extolled, not onely for that he had the rule and empire ouer manye nacions: but also for that he had a better opinion then others of thinges appertaignyng to god. And therfore if men would thus per­swade with themselues that theyr owne things ought to be reioyced in, to be prai­sed, and not to be so litle set by: thei should not so pine away, in maruailyng at other men. But nowe though there bee none of vs al that thinketh the vine mete to beare figges, nor the olyue tree to brynge foorth grapes: yet do we continually accuse our selues, and with vnthankful satiablenes vexe and greue our selues, yea we be we­ry of our selues except we maie bee chief, so well amongst the riche as also among thelloquent, at whom in peace, as abrode in warre, aswel amongst y e Philosophers as the souldiers, and againe amongst the [Page] flatterers, as amongst those that be true, and of a faithfull free simplicitie, and fi­nally so well amongest the couetous spa­rers, and as the prodigall spenders. And yet we see with oure eyes howe maruay­lously well nature dothe teache vs y e con­trary. For as nature hathe ordeyned sun­dry wyld beastes to lyue by sōdry kindes of foode, and not to bee all fed either with seedes, fleshe, or rootes, but diuers to eate of diuerse meates: euen so likewise y e selfe same nature hath geuen to mankind dy­uerse kindes of life, as some to be herdmē, some plowmē, some foulers, and some fi­shers, wherefore it behoueth euery one of vs to take y t whiche we perceiue is moste meete for vs, and wholye applyinge oure selues to that, to depart from the possessi­on of those thynges, whiche we know do apperteigne to others. For otherwise He­siodus should be vnwise to speake in this sorte.

The potter doth himself with potters aye compare
And eke the smith his like in arte texcell dothe care.

But nowe menne doe not contende one [Page] with another in lykenesse of arte or facul­tie, but the riche with the eloquente, the nobles with the riche, and the lawyers with the subtile sophisters. Yea, free mē, gentlemen, and suche as bee descended of an auncient stocke, bee amased and dooe maruaile so muche at the good successe & promocion, that manye tymes players of merye interludes and commodies on sta­ges, tumblers, and slaues, haue in kinges courtes, that whilest thei thinke all their owne honest qualities not to be estemed: they vexe themselues with great grieffes and sorowfulnesse of mynde, whiche at length dothe kyll them. But howe euerye man hath in his own mynde a storehouse or receptacle, and as it were a flowynge fountayne both of quietnesse and of care­fulnesse, and hathe also the vessels (wher­of Homer speaketh) full of all kynde of good and euyll, not as hee sayeth, layde at Iupyter hys Doore, but placed wythin the soule: the dyuersityes of menne, whiche wee see to bee dyuerslye ruled by affections of the mynde dooe [Page] ryghte well declare. For fooles doe not onely passe ouer good thynges whiche be presente, but also dooe neglect those that bee paste. So muche are theyr carefull myndes bente to that whiche is to come. But wise menne contrarywise reuoluing thynges throughe good remembraunce before their eyes, doe cause those thinges that as yet bee not, to bee at hande, yea and to bee presente in deede. Whereas to fooles (because thynges present do chaūce in a momente, so sodainelye as they can not almoste bee perceyued) it semeth that we haue nothynge nor that anye thynge apperteigneth vnto vs. And as the Rope­maker whiche is paincted in Pluto hys Temple, for slouth suffreth his Asse that standeth by hym, to eate vp all the corde that hee of hempe hathe twysted: euen so the vngratefull and sluggishe forget­fulnesse of manye, takynge awaye the commodyties receyued of thinges past, and cancellynge all the noble actes and woorthye enterpryses, all the sweete tyme spente in quyete Studye, [Page] free from all worldly affaires, all the ple­saunt and merie societies and felow lyke liuynge together of frendes, and finallye cleane abolishyng all that parte of y e lyfe, that euer was geuen to anye myrthe or pleasure, wyll not suffer (I saye) one self life to be made and knit of thynges paste and present: but by seperatyng y e life past, from the lyfe present, and agayne the lyfe present from the lyfe to come, maketh for lacke of callyng suche thinges to remem­braunce all thinges to seeme, as though they had neuer bene done. Those that in the scholles of Philosophers doe take a­way thencrease of bodies, affirmyng the substaunce to vanish away by continuall wasting of breath, doo seme to proue that euerye one of vs dooe alter state of body & dayly decay by woordes. But suche as do forgette thynges past, as though theyr memorie failed them, and will not repeat one thing often, those do not in woordes, but in deedes make themselues euery day more miserable and poorer then other. Depending of y e time to come as thoughe [Page] thynges of a yere paste and of late dayes, yea, and of yesterdaye, apperteigned no­thing vnto thē: yea, and as thoughe those thinges hadde neuer chaunced vnto them. So that the quiet estate of y e mind, is by this meanes disturbed. And as flies creapyng vppon verye smoothe and slip­pery glasse doe slide, and yet in rough and cranyed places doe easily sticke: Euen so menne doe fal from merye and pleasaunt thinges, and doe take sure holde on y e re­membraunce of heauye and sorowefull thinges. Yea rather as by report, there is in Olinthios a certaine place called of the propertie thereof Cantharoletron, into the whiche when the great betleflyes bee once entered, they cannot fynde the waye out againe, but after that they haue ma­ny times tumbled to and fro and gone oft aboute in vaine, at length doe dye: so men being walowed into the remembrance of misery & aduersitie, cānot afterward help themselues out, nor yet once take breathe. And therfore as painters in their tables are wont with faire glistering coulours, [Page] to couer and to ouerlaye those coulours that be duskishe and not to be seen: So it behoueth menne in their myndes wyth thinges woorthye of remembraunce and praise, to presse down and to ouerwhelme all suche sorowfull chaunces as are not to be spoken of. For thinges paste cannot be vtterly abolyshed nor yet dothe it lye in mannes power wholy to beware in time to come. For the armony of this world is so diuers and so variable as is the sound of the harpe or viall. Neither doth manne possesse any thyng that is symple, sincere or pure. But as musicke is made of tunes high and lowe, and grammer of letters, whereof some bee vowelles, and some bee consonauntes, and yet he is neither Mu­sitian nor gramarian, that with either of these or those wilbee offended, but rather that moste aptlye can vse them and com­pounde them bothe together: so he finally seemeth most wisely to establishe and dy­recte his lyfe, y t hath learned discretely to myngle together y e chaūces & successes of thinges y t be of diuers kindes, & contrary [Page] one to another: by recompensinge y e haps vnfortunate, with y e lucky and fortunate. For the commoditie of mans life will not suffer prosperitie and aduersity to be put a sunder eche one by himself, yea rather it behoueth vs, to make a certain tēperature of them bothe, if we purpose to iudge and to determine of them rightly. Wherfore it is not mete to grunt or to grone at eyther of them, and to lye downe as one opprest with a heauye burthen for faintnesse of hart and courage: but rather with the re­membrance of better happe, to withstand and to beate back again the force and vi­olence of euery vnlucky chaunce. And by couering the displeasures and incommo­dityes, wyth the vayle clothe, of pleasures and commodyties, to make the tenoure of the whole lyfe, beyng knytte and com­pacte of prosperitye and aduersitie: lyke a certayne melodyous concorde tempered by art of musick. Nor there is not (as Me­nander thought) one aūgel appointed to man so sone as he is born to be y e directer [Page] of his life, and as a mayster to teache him to lyue well: but there be rather (as Em­pedocles saied) twoo aungelles and twoo sundry fortunes, to whom he gaue many sundrye names, whiche doo receaue vs al into their powere and tuycion so soone as we come into y e world, being immediatly bounde and geuen vnto theim, with lyke lawe and condicion of seruitude. And he sayde that in oure byrthe we receaue the seedes of al these affections. And therfore the waye of oure lyfe is not playne and smoothe, but roughe and full of harde passagies. For the whiche cause, the wise man wysheth the best, and prouideth for the woorste, and vseth both temperatlye, aduoydynge in either parte all extremity. For it is not so (as Epicurus affirmeth) that he onelye with pleasure approcheth the tyme to come, whiche careth not whi­ther he lyue so long or not: but those ra­ther receaue most pleasure of riches, ho­nour, power, and dominion, which if nede should bee, coulde take the contrary state and condicion of lyfe in good worthe. For [Page] the vehemente desier of anye thing is al­waies accompanied with a certain feare to lose the same, whiche feare appaullith mans mirth and oftētimes interrupteth the same, like a flame of fier restrained by a greater violence of winde. But that mā whom reason hath taught boldly wyth­out feare to speake vnto Fortune in thys wise.

Like as tenioy thy giftes, I would be very glad
Euen so to lose the same, I wilbe nothing sad:

Must nedes I saie trusting in himself enioy thinges present with pleasure, nor cannot be often vexte with feare, in remē ­bring of any losse that maye ensue. When Anaxagoras hearde that his sonne was dead: he saide. when I did bigette hym I knewe well that he shoulde dye, & to that end I brought him vp. This affecciō of A­naxagoras oughte aswel to be folowed of vs, as to be maruailed at. For euerye one of vs, to anye mishappe that chaunceth, maye immediately saie thus. I knewe right well, that the riches whiche I pos­sesse, were but lent me for a time, and not [Page] bounde to me by any necessity, and that I had but onely the vse of them. And I was not ignoraunt that thei whiche gaue me power and aucthoritie, might also take it from me, if they liste. I knewe my wyfe to be honest, and yet a woman also. And fy­nally it was not hydde from me, that my frende was a man, whiche is a beaste (as Plato sayeth) whose nature wilbe easily corrupted. Truely he y t will make compte of his affectes after this sorte and wyll buylde before in his minde suche kynd of Bulwarkes and fortes of reason: though any thinge perhappes shall afterwarde chaunce against his desyer or peruersely: yet shall it not chaunce sodaynlye or vn­looked for. Because he wyll neuer saye (as the common sorte dooeth) that I woulde neuer haue thought it, or that I hadde a better hope, thynkyng that this could ne­uer haue come so to passe. Yea suche a manne I saye, shall alwayes bee hable to putte away the waueryng of his hart, beatyng and quiuering for feare, and to brynge it by and by from trouble and [Page] vexacion, to reste and quietnesse. Car­nēades was wonte to putte menne moste in remembraunce of aduersitye, when they were in greatest prosperitie. Bee­cause that all thynges that come sodain­lye and vnlooked for: bee naturally apte to bee receyued with griefe and trouble of the mynde, and as it were with fain­tynge and soundyng. And nowe to con­fyrme that whiche hath bene sayde with some exaumples. Fyrst howe smal a por­cion is Macedonye of the Romaine Em­pyre? And yet when kynge Persis hadde loste it, he didde not crye out only of For­tune with foule complaintes: but also se­med to manye others to bee the mysera­blest manne and moste vnfortunate that euer was. But beholde on the other syde Emilius, who departyng out of the pro­uynce, after that he had once vanquished Persis, and yelded vppe to his successor all the rule and power that he had bothe by Sea and lande: was receyued wyth crownes of glorye and greate reioycing. For al men in the tyme of doing sacrifice, [Page] did extoll him with praises vp to y e hea­uens, and that not vnworthely, yea moste woorthely. For this man had alwayes in remembraunce, how that y e Empire was geuen him but to vse for a tyme. But Persis contrarywise, was depryued of his kingdome by a sodayne chaunce and vnlooked for. And truely it seemeth to me that Homer by a goodly exaumple hathe very well taught vs, howe muche more grieuous sodayn strokes be, then others. For Vlisses beyng come home againe out of a straunge countrey, wept to see the so­dayne deathe of his dogge. And yet syt­ting by his lamentynge wife, didde not wepe at all. For he being many times to­wardes comming home, conceiued before in his mind, thimage of his weping wife. And so that affection whiche wythoute doubte, in a sodaine woulde haue bruste out: he by laysure subdued, and by harde­ning his heart before, broughte it cleane vnder his rule and power. But he was somwhat troubled with the sodein death of his dogge, because that in so sodayne a [Page] thing he hadde not tyme to restrayne the force of his affection. And to speake brief­lye, partlye suche thynges as chaunce o­therwise then we desier: be intollerable & grieuous to suffer by nature, and partly a corrupte oppinion and naughtye cus­tome of oure selues hath taughte vs to be grieued therewith. And that is the grea­test parte, against the whiche, it should be well done, to haue alwaies ready at hand this sayinge of Menander. Thou neuer sufferest any outragious thynge, excepte thou suppose it so to be. For what needest thou to care, so long as it pyncheth not thy fleshe, nor toucheth thy lyfe, as for ex­aumple. The lowe byrth of thy father, the whoredome of thy mother, to be depriued of the honour of the highest seate, or to be iniured, in that the glorie of the victory is taken from thee: what dooe these thinges I saye apperteigne to thee? For thoughe all these thynges were so in deede: yet nothynge letteth thee, but that thou ma­yest bee well, yea and verye well dysposed [Page] both of body and soule. Now against such thinges as naturally somewhat offēd vs as sicknes, misery, & death of oure frēdes, we ought tobiect this sayīg, wo is we. But why woe is me syth we haue suffered no­thing, but that whiche apperteygneth to man. For there is no talke or saying, that doeth more quickly reproue the passyble parte of the soule, when it is drawen out of y e right waye by vnbrideled affections: then that sayinge which doth admonishe vs, and put vs in remembraunce of the v­niuersall and naturall necessitie, and of that which must nedes be, with the whi­che necessitie man is noryshed vppe and wrapt in it, at the tyme of his byrthe and fyrst knyttynge of his bodye, whiche one knotte is onelye subiecte to fortunes as­saultes, and al the reste of natures gyftes whiche be chiefest and of most valewe, he may safely possesse withoute daunger. When Kynge Demetrius had taken the cytie of Megara, it is sayde that he de­maunded Stylpo the Philosopher, whe­ther [Page] he hadde loste anye of hys goodes or not? To whom Stylpo answered. That he sawe no manne takynge awaye anye thynge of his, for (saieth he) though for­tune hathe suffered vs to bee robbed and spoyled of all the reste: yet wee haue some thynge lefte in vs, whiche the Greekes can neyther beare nor dryue awaye. It is no reason therefore, so muche to despyse and to reiecte nature, as though she had no iote of fortitude nor of sufferaunce and therefore not equall in force, to Fortune. But sythe wee knowe ryghte well that, that parte of manne which is to fortune subiecte, is a verye small porcion of vs, and lytle to bee regarded, beyng so brittle and so softe that it yeldeth at the fyrste to euery lytle poushe: and that we be lordes of the better parte, wherein as in a strong holde all good thynges be placed: yea, and wherein also, true glorye, scy­ences, and all studies apperteigninge to vertue haue their beyng: whiche cannot be taken awaie nor euer perishe by anye [Page] vyolence: it becommeth vs (I saye there­fore) to bee in mynde vnuincible, and to truste in oure selues, fearynge nothynge that is to come. And to saye to fortune, that whiche Socrates fainynge to haue spoken vnto Anitus and Melitus his ac­cusours, spake in deede to the Iudgies. Anitus and Melitus maye well take my life from me, but hurt or damage thei can do me none. For though Fortune may op­presse manne with diuers dyseases de­stroye his goodes, and accuse him to the Tiraunte, or to the people, yet she cannot make hym an euyll manne, or a cowarde, or false hearted and faynte of courage or malicious, and specially he beyng a good manne, and endued with manlynesse and stoutenesse of courage. And finally she can not take away the right constitucion and disposicion of the mind, whiche doth help manne more to passe his lyfe, then thart of sailing doeth the mariner to passe the seas. For the sterne man be he neuer so ex­pert, can no more stil the raging sea or re­presse the violence of y e boysterous winds, [Page] then to take hauen where as he list, so oft as he desireth to come from sea to shore. No nor yet cā his art performe this, that he being taken in a sodain tempest maye cōstantly and without feare escape such necessity. But onely it helpeth thus much that so long as he despaireth not but that arte maie take place, he gathereth in hys sayles aswel as he cā, and so floteth with the tempest, wheras the cowardly mary­ner sitteth wryngynge his handes toge­ther, and whilste the maste of the ship ly­eth drowned by violence of windes in the sea, he trembleth & quaketh for feare. But the quiet mind in a wiseman, both bring­eth healthe to the bodye by the meanes of continency, good diete & exercise (whyche thinges dooe aswage and cleane take a­waye the cause and matter of sicknesse) & also if there be afterward perhappes any occasion of trouble whereuppon mannes mind doth run as vpon a rocke in the sea: he hoyseth vp sayle, and as (Esclapiades saith) quickly passeth thesame. But fooles not so muche for desier of life as for feare [Page] of deathe, dooe hang on the bodye by the hands closed lattys wise one finger with in another: euē as Vlisses did hang by the wild figge tree when he feared y e dange­rous goulfe called Caribdis roaringe vn­derneath him, who (as Homer writeth) being sodainly taken in the sea of Sycelye, was brought to such case y t by meanes of y e violence of y e winde driuing him hither & thither, he could nether go forward nor backward, nor yet as the prouerbe saieth, as one y t holdeth a wolf by the eares: was hable what for wearines, & for thūhand­somnes of the place, to holde the tree any lenger, and yet durst not let it go for feare of the terrible monster. Truely if a man woulde by some meanes searche oute the nature of oure soule, and think with him selfe, that by death we passe from this life to a better, or at the least not to a woorse: certainly that man in despisinge deathe, shoulde prepare for himselfe no smal pro­uision, to conduct him in his iourney to­wardes the quietnesse and tranquilitye of the mynde. For he that as well by force [Page] of vertue whiche is proper and peculyer to manne, may liue pleasantly, as also by meanes of other thinges not apperteyg­nyng to manne, but geuen besides nature being of great power & farre passing our own proper thinges: maie be of such bold spirite and courage, that he maie saye to himself, I maie depart, yea I saye euē at the firste instant, and by gods leaue whē I will my selfe: Howe I pray you, or whē maie we thinke that any grieuous thing indissoluble or troublous, can chaunce to this man? But whosoeuer he was y e fyrst spake this famous and renowmed sen­tence, O Fortune I haue preuented thee, and taken vppe before all thy wayes and passages bee they neuer so strayghte: truelye that manne seemeth not to haue encouraged and boldned himself by strong buildings fast barred and surelye locked: but rather by Philosophicall decrees and testimoni­es of wise men which be cōmon and easie for all menne to haue, yea and readie at hande to all those that shall vouche­safe to receaue them. Neyther oughte [Page] we to take awaye our credite from suche thinges as be consecrated to the memorie of vs & of our posteritie, nor yet to dispair or to mistrust our selues as vnhable euer to folow any parte thereof. But as wee ought to haue thē in admiracion, & as it were by a certain inspiration of god to be amased at thē: so also it behoueth hym y t prepareth himself to folowe thesame, too make such a showe of himselfe that in be­ginning first with smal thinges, he maye afterwarde attempt greater and greater, & so at lēgth atchieue to the highest. But we must take hede in ani wise y t we forget not to cōsider these thyngs before, nor yet be greued to reuolue thē oftē in our mind & to think of thē with all our hart, whych thyng is not, vneasy to be done. For as the dilicatenes of the minde, whych being oc­cupied in euery litle trifle and thinges of smal weight, is woont by a naughty suf­feraunce to withdraw it self from vnple­saunt thinges for to folow things of ple­sure: dothe annoy vs and infect vs with a certain slouthful diliciousnes & tēdernes: [Page] euen so, if a mā would behold in his mind thimage of sicknes, labor, trauail, banish­ment, & such other like, & cōmaund in him self the force of his wit & reason, diligent­ly to discusse eache thing y t is to be ponde­red by it self: that mā, that mā, I say, with out doubt, should quickly find those thin­ges that seme greuous & horrible, to be in dede vain & for the most part not to be re­garded, and finally to threaten more out­wardly, thē thei can performe inwardly. But the cōmon sort doe feare this saying of Menander. There is no man that may glory so muche of himselfe in his lyfe time as to saye, that I wyll not suffer this, or that. And no maruayle why, sythe they knowe not howe muche it helpeth towardes thad­uoiding of heauines, taccustom thēselues to behold fortune with a froward counte­nance, & with a fierce looke, & not to be geuen to effeminate thoughtes & wauering delites, which being nourished in darke­nes, & abashed at euery glistering light of hope, do yeld to euery trifle. Albeit Menā ­der might be answered thus. A mā ought [Page] not to say, I wil not in my life time suffer this, but rather ought to saie, I wyll not whilst I liue do this. As I wil not lye, I wil not vse subtil craft in deceauing men, I will not defraude them of their ryght, I will not maliciouslye lay waite to take them in a trap. For sithe this thing consi­steth in our power, it must nedes be a ve­ry great helpe to those that do further thē selues tobteigne quietnes of minde. Con­trarywise a wicked conscience is in the soule, like a wounde in the bodie, & it cau­seth repentance, which continually fret­teth and tormenteth the soule. For where as reason is wont to take away all other griefes and heauines, this naughtie con­science (I saie) causeth repentaunce for shame to prouoke it selfe of the owne ac­corde, and as it were eagerlye to byte and to teare it selfe in pieces. And as the colde of a colde ague, or the heate of a burnynge feauoure dooeth muche more vehementlye and grieuouslye afflicte the bodye, then anye other outwarde heate or colde. Euen so the griefes and sorowes [Page] that come vnto vs by chaunce, be easier to suffer, then those that by our owne folye dooe breede in oure selues. This sayinge also which euery man whē he hath done any mischief is wont with weaping tea­res to howle out. There is no manne to bee blamed for thys, but I my selfe: maketh the wounde whiche is greuous of it selfe, muche more greuous and dothe pearce it deper. For neyther goodlye buyldynges, nor aboundaunce of golde, nor yet noble­nesse of byrthe or great Empire, nor fy­nallye, pleasaunt speache, eloquence, or promptnes of tounge, can brynge suche stylnesse and pleasaunt quietnesse of lyfe, as the mynde that is free from pensyue­nesse and lyueth by it selfe, farre of, from wycked thoughtes. Whiche mynde ha­uyng in it self a cleare and pure fountain of lyfe (whereby I meane an honest dys­position and vertuous behauyoure from whence all commendable doynges dooe spring) as a thing encouraged I saye by some inspiraciō of god, doth bringe furth all her doinges in myrthe and pleasure, [Page] with the continuall remēbrance whereof she is onely fed, being to her a great deale sweter & much more assured, thē the hope wherof Pyndarus speaketh, which (as he saith) dothe nourishe olde age. And as the swete gardein plots (as Carneades was wōt to say) though thei be spoiled of their pleasant shrubbes, the rootes being cut or pulled vp, do yeld for al y t a certain sweete smel lōg time after: euē so honest doings, do leaue in the mind of a wyseman, a cer­tain remēbrance which is alwaies plea­sant & freshe. With the which remēbrance y e inward mirth being watered, as it wer wi [...]h a cōtinual rūning brooke, is alwais greene & bringeth furth yonge shootes & springes to the great shame of those that do oft lamēt & blame this lyfe, affirminge it to be a counsel house of mischief, & a cer­tain assemble of banished folkes, into the which the soules be sent a way frō aboue, as though thei wer banished out of their countrey. Truely I cannot but iudge this saying of Diogenes moste worthy of re­membraunce. Who espying a stranger on [Page] a time in Lacedemony gorgeously array­ing himself against a festiuall daie, sayde thus, what (quoth he?) Is not euery daye to a good man a festiuall daie? yes truely (if we consider thinges wel) most festiuall & ioyful. For the world is no other thyng but a holy temple, & moste meete for God. And into this temple, man at his byrthe tyme is admitted, not to beholde ymages made by mans hand, & withoute sence or feling: but to behold the Sūne y e Moone, & the Starres, from whence our life toke her first beginnīg & mouing, which thin­ges the prouidence of god gaue vs to bee­hold, to thentent y t such thinges as be subiect to the outward sences, mighte bee (as Plato saith) ymages & examples of those thinges which are to be cōprehended and vnderstanded by the minde. Adde hereun­to the floudes continually bringing fresh water and earth, which nourisheth bothe plant & beast. It behoueth our lyfe there­fore, that wil truelye beginne to celebrate this noble feast & goodly sight, to be ful of mirthe & quietnes. And not to tarie for y e [Page] feaste of Saturne, of Bacchus or of Pallas (as many doe) whiche dooe abyde these and suche other feastyuall dayes when they approche with greate expec­tacion, and fynallye beynge come they receaue them and the playes celebrated in the same, with much reioyceing. And for their pleasures sake, they paie also hi­er to players of Interludes, to Minstrels and to Tūblers, that in those daies they maie delyght themselues, the more wan­tonly with bought mirthe. But what cā bee a more vndecent thing then this, that during suche playes, we can sit quietly, kepinge a maruaylous styll sylence, at­tendynge to nothynge but to that one­lye. For neyther dooeth any manne la­mente whylste hee dooeth Sacryfyce, nor yet whylste hee beholdeth the plaies of Apollo, no more then hee that syt­teth at Saturnes feaste, complayneth for hunger. And yet suche solempne feastes, as God is aucthour of, and as it were rynge leader, we manye tymes [Page] defyle and vyolate, by passynge theym ouer with lamentynge, wyth bitternesse of hearte, and wyth myserable lyuyng. And thys also is verye vnseemelye for vs to bee delyghted wyth the melodious noyse of Organes, and with the swete syngynge of byrdes, and wyllynglye to beholde beastes whylste they playe to­gether, and leape too and fro. And a­gayne to bee offended wyth theyr loude howlynge, terryble roarynge, and cru­ell lookynge. And yet we seynge oure owne sorowfull heauye and frowarde lyfe, drowned in noysome affectes, in troubles and cares inexplycable, be not onelye vnhable to craue casemente for oure selues and space to breathe: But also vnwilling to heare those that would exhorte vs thereunto. To whose ad­monyshmentes if with eares vnoccupied and wel pourged we would attende, we [...] should both vse thinges presēt according as they bee, withoute feare of reproofe, [Page] and also wee shoulde quiete oure selues wythe pleasaunt remembraunce of thin­ges paste. And finally hauynge an as­sured and ioyfull hope alwayes be­fore oure eyes, wee should bold­ly aproche thynges that are to come.

¶ Imprinted at London by Wylliam Seres dwellyng at the West end of Poules at the Sygne of the Hedgehogge, the vii. daye of Iune. An. domini. 1561.

¶ Cum priuilegio ad im­primendum solum

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