THE EDVCATION OF CHILDREN.

FOrasmuch as we are to consider what may be sayd as touching the education of children free borne and descended from gentle blood, how and by what discipline they may become honest and vertuous, we shall perhaps treat hereof the better, if we begin at their very ge­neration and nativitie. First and formost therefore, I would advise those who desire to be the fathers of such children, as may live ano­ther 10 day in honour and reputation among men, not to match them­selves and meddle with light women, common courtisans I meane, or private concubines. For a reproch this is that followeth a man all the dayes of his life, and a shamefull staine which by no meanes can be fetched out, if haply he be not come of a good father or good mother: neither is there any one thing that presenteth it selfe more readily unto his adversaries, and sooner is in their mouth when they are disposed to checke, taunt and revile, than to twit him with such parentage. In which regard, wisely sayd the Poët Euripides:

A goodly treasure then have they who are well and honestly borne, when in the confidence and assurance thereof, they may be bold to beare their heads aloft, and speake their minds frankly wheresoever they come: and verily they of all others are to make the greatest account of this blessing, who wish to have faire issue of their bodies lawfully begotten. Certes, a thing it is that ordinarily daunteth and casteth downe the heart of a man, when he is privie to the basenesse of his birth, and knoweth some defect, blemish and imperfection by his parents. Most truly there­fore, and to the purpose right fitly spake the same Poët:

Whereas contrariwise, they that are knowen to be the children of noble and worthy parents, beare themselves highly, and are full of stomacke and generositie. In which conceit and loftie spirit it is reported, that Diaphantus the sonne of Themistocles, was woont to say, and that in the hearing of many, That whatsoeuer pleased him, the same also the people of Athens thought well of: for, that which I would have done, quoth he my mother likewise sayth Yea unto it: what my mothers minde stands to, Themistocles my father will not gainsay it: and looke what likes The­mistocles, the Athenians all are well contented therewith. Where by the way, the magnanimitie, 40 and brave mind of the Lacedaemoninas is highly to be praised, who condemned their king Archi­damus in a great fine of money, for that he could finde in his heart to espouse a wife of little sta­ture, alledging therewith a good reason: Because, say they, his meaning is to get, not a breed of Kings, but Kinglins, or divers Kings, to reigne over us.

Well, upon this first advertisement concerning children, there dependeth another, which they who wrote before us of the like argument, forgat not to set downe; and what is that? name­ly, That they who for procreation of children will come neere unto women, ought to meddle with them, either upon empty stomacks, and before they have drunke any wine at all, or at least­wise, after they have taken their wine in measure, and soberly: for such will proove commonly wine-bibbers and drunkards, who were engendred when their fathers were drunken: according 50 to that which Diogenes sayd upon a time unto a youth whom he saw beside himselfe, and farre overseene with drinke; My ladde, quoth he, thy father gat thee when he was drunke. And thus much may suffice for the generation of children.

As touching their nourture and education, whereof now I am to discourse: That which we are woont generally to say of all Arts and Sciences, the same we may be bolde to pronounce of [Page 3] vertue, to wit, that to the accomplishment thereof, and to make a man perfectly vertuous, three things ought to concurre, Nature, Reason and Vsage. By reason, I understand doctrine and pre­cepts: by usage, exercise and practise. The first beginnings we have from nature: progresse and proceeding come by teaching and instruction: exercise and practise is performed by dili­gence: And all three together bring foorth the height of perfection. If any one of these faile, it cannot otherwise be, but that vertue also should have her defect and be maimed: For nature without learning is blind: Doctrine wanting the gift of nature is defectuous; and exercise void of the other twaine, imperfect. And verily, it fareth in this case much like as in Husbandrie and tillage of the earth. For first and formest requisite it is, that the ground be good: Secondly, that the Husbandman be skilfull; and in the third place that the seed be cleane and well chosen. 10 Semblaby, Nature resembleth the soile: the Master who teacheth, representeth the labouring Husbandman; and last of all, the rules, precepts, admonitions and examples are compared to the seede. All these good meanes (I dare with confidence avouch) met together, and inspired their power into the mindes of these woorthy personages, who throughout the world are so renowmed, Pythagor as I meane, Socrates, Plato, and all the rest who have attained to a memora­ble name and immortall glorie. Blessed then is that man and entirely beloved of the gods, whose hap it is by their favor and grace to be furnished with all three. Now if any one be of this opinion, that those who are not endued with the gift of naturall wit, and yet have the helpes of true instruction and diligent exercise to the attaining of vertue, cannot by this meanes recover and repaire the foresaid defect: Know he, that he is much deceived, and to say more truely, 20 quite out of the way: for as idlenesse and negligence doth marre and corrupt the goodnesse of nature: so, the industrie and diligence of good erudition supplieth the defect, and correcteth the default thereof. Idle and slothfull persons (we see) are not able to compasse the things that be easie: whereas contrariwise by studie and travell, the greatest difficulties are atchieved. More­over, of what efficacie, and execution, diligence and labour is, a man may easily know by sundrie effects that are daily observed. For we do evidently perceive that drops of water fal­ling upon the hard rocke, doe eate the same hollow: yron and brasse we see to weare and con­sume onely by continuall handling: The fellies in chariot wheeles which by labour are bended and curbed, will not returne and be reduced againe, do what you can to their former streight­nesse: Like as it is impossible by any device to set streight the crooked staves that Stage-players 30 goe withall. And evident it is, that whatsoever against nature, is by force and labour chaunged and redressed, becometh much better and more sure, than those things that continue in their ownekinde. But, are these the things onely wherein appeareth the power of studie and dili­gence? No verily. For there are an infinite number of other experiments, which proove the same most cleerely. Is there a peece of ground naturally good? Let it lie neglected, it becom­meth wilde and barrain: Yea, and the more rich and fertill that it is of it selfe, the more waste and fruitlesse it prooveth for want of tillage and husbandry. Contrariwise, you shall see another plot hard, rough, and more stonie than it should be: which by good ordering and the carefull hand of the husbandman, soone bringeth foorth faire and goodly fruit. Againe, what trees are there which will not twine, grow crooked and proove fruitlesse, if good heed be not taken unto 40 them? Whereas, if due regard be had, and that carefulnes employed about them which becom­meth, they beare fruit, and yeeld the same ripe in due season. Is there any body so sound and able, but by neglect, riot, delicacie, and an evill habit or custome it will grow dull, feeble and unlostie, yea and fall into a misliking and consumption? On the other side, what complexion is there so faint and weake, which is not brought to great strength and perfection in the end, by continual travell and ordinary exercises? Are there any horses in the world, which if they be well handled and broken while they are colts, will not proove gentle in the end and suffer themselves easily to be mounted and manned? Contrariwise, let them remaine untamed in their youth: strong­headed, stiffenecked and unruly will they be alwaies after, and never fit for service. And why should we marvell at these and such like matters, considering that many of the most savage 50 and cruell beasts that be, are made gentle and familiar, yea and brought to hand by labour and paines taken about them? Well said therefore that Thessalian whosoever he was, who being demaunded, which Thessalians of all others were most dull and softest of spirit, Answered thus, Even they that have given over warfare. But what need we to stand longet upon this point? For certaine it is, that out manners and conditions are qualities imprinted in us by tract and [Page 4] continuance of time: and whosoever saith that Gracè [...] , [...] Morall vertues are gotten by custome, in my conceit speaketh not amisse but to very great purpose. And therefore with one example and no more produced by Lycurgus as touching this matter, I will knit up and conclude my dis­course thereof. Lycurgus, him I meane who established the lawes of the Lacedaemonians, tooke two whelpes of one licter, and comming both from the same sire and damme: Those he caused to be nourished and brought up diversly, and unlike one to the other; that as the one prooved a greedie and ravenous curre and full of shrewd turnes: so the other was given to hunting and minded nothing but to quest and follow the game. Now upon a certaine day afterwards, when the Lacedaemonians were met together in a frequent assembly, he spake unto them in this man­ner, My Masters, citizens of Lacedaemon, Of what importance to engender vertue in the hart 10 of man, custome, nourture, discipline and education is, I will presently shew unto you by an evident demonstration: and with that he brought foorth in the sight of them all, those two whelpes, and set directly before them a great platter of sops in broth, and therewith let loose also a live hare: but behold, one of them followed immediately after the hare, but the other ranne straight to slap in the platter aforesaid. The Lacedaemonians wist not what to make of this, nor to what purpose he shewed unto them these two dogs before said, untill he brake out into this speech, These two dogs (quoth he) had one damme and [...] same sire, but being bred and brought up diversly, See how the one is become a greedy gut, and the other a kinde hound. And thus much may serve as touching custome and diversitie of education.

It were meete now in the next place to treat of the feeding and nourishing of infants newly 20 borne. I hold it therefore convenient, that mothers reare their babes, and suckle them with their owne breasts: For feede them they will with greater affection, with more care and diligence, as loving them inwardly, and (as the proverbe saith) from their tender nailes, whereas milch nour­ces and fostermothers carie not so kinde a hart unto their nourcelings, but rather a fained and counterfet affection, as being mercenarie and loving them indeed for hire onely and reward. Furthermore, even nature her selfe is sufficient to proove, that mothers ought to suckle and nourish those whom they have borne and brought into the world: For to this end hath she given to every living creature that bringeth foorth yoong, the foode of milke: and in great wisedome the divine providence hath furnished a woman with two teats for this purpose, that if happily she should be delivered of two twinnes at once, she might have likewise two fountaines 30 of milke to yeeld nourishment for them both. Moreover, by this meanes more kinde and lo­ving they will be unto their children: and verily not without great reason: For this fellowship in feeding together is a bond that knitteth, or rather a wrest that straineth and stretcheth bene­volence to the utmost. The experience whereof we may see even in the very brute and wilde beasts, which hardly are parted from their companie, with whom they have beene nourished, but still they lowe and mowe after them. Mothers therefore (as I have said) ought especially to endevour and do their best for to be nources of their owne children, if it be possible. But in case they cannot, by reason either of some bodily infirmitie and indisposition that way (for so it may fall out) or that they have a desire and do make hast to be with childe againe, and to have more children: then a carefull eie and good regard would be had, not to entertaine those for nources 40 and governesses that come next to hand, but to make choise of the very best and most honest that they can come by, and namely for faire conditions and good behavior, to choose Greekish women before any other. For like as the members and limmes of little infants, so soone as ever they be borne, are of nccessitie to be formed and fashioned, that afterwards they may grow straight and not crooked: even so, at the very first their harts and manners ought to be framed and set in order: For this first age of childhood is moist and soft, apt to receive any impression: whiles the heart is tender every lesson may be soone instilled into it, and quickly will take hold, whereas hard things are not so easie to be wrought and made soft. And as signets or seales will quickly set a print upon soft wax; so the tender hearts of yoong children take readily the impres­sion of whatsoever is taught them. In which regard, Plato that heavenly and divine Philoso­pher, 50 seemeth unto me to have given a wise admonition for nources, when he warned them not to tell foolish tales, nor to use vaine speeches inconsiderately in the hearing of yoong infants, for feare least at the first their minds might apprehend folly and conceive corrupt opinions. Semblably the Poët Phocylides seemeth to deliver sage counsaile in this behalfe when he saith:

Neither is this precept in any wise to be forgotten or passed by, That other children also who are either to attend upon them, whiles they be nourced and brought up, or to beare them companie and be fedde together with them, be chosen such as above all things are well manne­red and of good conditions: Then, that they speake the Greeke toong naturally, and pronounce the same most plainely and distinctly, for feare, least if they sort with such feeres as either in language are barbarous, or in behaviour leawd and ungratious; they catch infection from them, and be stained with their vices. For such old sawes and proverbes as these, are not so rise with­out good reason, If thou converse and cohebite with a lame creaple, thou wilt soone learne to limpe 10 and halt thy selfe.

Now when children be growen to that age, wherin they are to be committed unto the charge of Tutors, Schoolemasters and governors: then, parents ought to have an especial care of their state, namely, under whom they set them to be trained up: least for want of good providence and foresight, they betray them into the hands of some vile slaves, base barbarians, vaine and light-headed persons. For most absurd and ridiculous is the practise of many men in this point: who if they have any servants more vertuous or better disposed than others, some of them they appoint to husbandry and tillage of their ground; others they make Masters of their ships. They employ them (I say) either in merchandise to be their factours, or as stewards of their house to receive and pay all; or else to be banquers, and so they trust them with the exchaun­ging 20 and turning of their monies. But if they meete with one slave among the rest that useth to be cupshotten, given to gluttony & belly cheere, or otherwise is untoward for any good service, him they set over their children to bring them up: Whereas indeed a governour over youth should be wel given, & of a right good nature himselfe, such an one as Phoenix was, who had the breeding and education of Achilles. The principal point therfore and most important of all that hitherto hath bene alledged is this, That choise men be sought out for to be teachers & masters of our children; who live in good name and without challenge, whose cariage and behaviour is blameles; & who for their knowledge & experience of the world are the best that may be found. For surely the source & roote of all goodnes and honesty, is the good education and training up of our children in their tender age. And like as good husbandmen and gardeners are woont to 30 pitch props & stakes close unto their yong plants, to stay them up and keepe them streight: even so, discreete and wise teachers plant good precepts and holesome instructions round about their yoong schollers, to the end that thereby, their manners may bud foorth commendably, and be framed to the rule of vertue. But contrariwise, you shall have some fathers now adaies, that de­serve no better than to be spit at in their very faces; who either upon ignorance, or for want of experience, before any triall made of those masters, who are to have the conduct and charge of their children, commit them hand over head to the tuition of lewd persons, and such as beare shew and make profession of that which they are not. Neither were this absurditie altogether so grosse and ridiculous, if so be they faulted herein of meere simplicitie & default of foreknow­ledge. But here is the heights of their folly and errour, that themselves knowing otherwhiles 40 the insufficiencie, yea and the naughtines of some such Masters, better than they doe who ad­vertise them thereof; yet for all that, they commit their children unto them, partly being over­come by the slatterie of claw-backes, and partly willing to gratifie some friends upon their kinde and earnest entreatie. Wherein they do much like for all the world to him, who lying verie sicke in bodie, for to content and satisfie a friend, leaveth an expert and learned physition who was able to cure him, and entertaineth another blind leech, who for want of skill and experi­ence quickly killeth him: or else unto one who being at sea; forgoeth an excellent pilot whom he knoweth to be very skilfull, and for the love of a friend maketh choise of another that is most insufficient. O Iupiter and all the gods in Heaven! Is it possible that a man bearing the name of a father, should make more account of a friends request, than of the good education of his 50 owne children? Which considered, had not that ancient Philosopher Crates ( [...] you) just occasion to say oftentimes, that if possibly he might, he would willingly mount to the highest place of the citie, and there crie out aloud in this manner: What meane you my Masters, and whether runne you headlong, carking and caring all that ever you can, to gather goods and rake riches together as you do: whiles in the mean time you make little or no reckoning at all of your [Page 6] children, unto whom you are to leave all your wealth? To which exclamation of his, I may adde thus much moreover, and say, That such fathers are like unto him that hath great regard of his shoe, but taketh no heed unto his foor. And verily, a man shall see many of these fathers, who upon a covetous minde, and a cold affection toward their owne children, are growen to this passe, that for to spare their purse, and ease themselves of charge, chuse men of no woorth to teach them: which is as much as to seeke a good market where they may buy ignorance chea­pest. Certes Aristippus said verie well to this purpose, when upon a time he pretily mocked such a father who had neither wit nor understanding, and jibed pleasantly with him in this ma­ner: For when he demaunded of him how much he would take for the training up and teaching of his sonne? He answered, An hundred crownes: A hundred crownes! quoth the father: by 10 Hercules I sweare, you aske too much out of the way; For with a hundred crownes I could buy a good slave. True quoth Aristippus againe, Lay out this hundred crownes so, you may have twaine, your sonne for one, and him whom you buy for the other. And is not this a follie of all foliies, that nourses should use their yoong infants to take meate and feed themselves with the right hand, yea and rebuke them if haply they put foorth their left: and not to forecast and give order that they may learne civility, and heare sage & holesom instructions? But what befalleth afterward to these good fathers, when they have first noursed their children badly, & then taught them as lewdly? Mary I will tell you. When these children of theirs are growne to mans estate, and will not abide to heare of living orderly, and as it becommeth honest men: but contrariwise fall headlong into outragious courses, and give themselves wholy to sensuality and servile plea­sures: 20 Then such fathers all repent for their negligence past, in taking no better order for their education: but all too late considering no good ensueth thereupon: but contrariwise, the lewd prancks which they commit daily, augment their griefe of heart and cause them to languish in sorrow. For some of them they see to keepe companie with flatterers, parasites, and smell feasts, the lewdest, basest, and most cursed wretches of all other, who serve for nothing but to corrupt, spoile, and marre youth: Others, to captivate and spend themselves upon harlots, queanes and common strumpets, proud and sumptuous in expence; the entertainment of whom is infinitly costly. Many of them consume all in delicate fare, and feeding a daintie and fine tooth: Many of them fall to dice, and with mumming and masking hazard all they have. And divers of them againe entangle themselves in other vices more hardy and adventurous, courting faire dames, 30 and making love to other mens wives: for which purpose they walke disguised in the night, like the frantike priests of Bacchus, to commit adulteries, buying sometimes one onely nights plea­sure with the price of their life: Whereas if such as these had conversed before with any Philo­sopher, they would never have taken such waies as this, and give themselves to like vanities: but rather they would have turned over a new leafe and learned a lesson of Diogenes, who in words not very civill and seemely, howbeit to the point not untruly, gave this counsell and said, Goe thy waies to the Stewes (I advise thee) and enter into some brothell house, where thou maist know how the pleasure that costeth little or nothing, differeth not from that which is bought full deerely.

To knit up therefore all in one summe I will conclude, and this my conclusion ought 40 of right to bee esteemed for an oracle, rather than a simple counsell and admonition; That the beginning, mids, and ende of all these matters, lieth onely in vertuous nourture and ho­nest education, which I avouch are the very meanes that be operative and powerfull for the at­taining both of vertue and true happinesse. As for all other things which we count good in this world, are in comparison heereof, mortall, transitorie, small, and not woorth the seeking after with such care and studie. Nobilitie, I confesse to be a goodly thing, but it is the gift of our ancestors. Riches who doubteth that they be gay and pretious matters? Howbeit, lying in the power of fortune onely, who taketh the same many times from those that possesse them, and giveth them away to such as never looke for them. Moreover, much wealth is the very marke whereat they shoot who are common cut purses, privie & domesticall theeves, Sycophants and 50 promoters, and that which is most, the wickedest persons in the world oftentimes meete there­with. Glorie and honor be things venerable, howbe it uncertaine and mutable. Beautie is love­ly and verie much desired, but it continueth a small while. Health is woorth much, and yet you see how soone it changeth. Strength of body who wisheth not? but quickly it is decaied and gone, either by sickenes or yeeres: in so much, as whosoever vaunteth and beareth himselfe in [Page 7] his able bodie, is greatly deceived, and commeth farre short of his reckoning: For what is mans force, compared with that of other beasts, I meane Elephants, Buls and Lions? It is learning and knowledge onely, which in us is divine, heavenly and immortall. For in mans nature two parts there are to be considered of all other most principall, to wit, understanding and speech. And of these, understanding is as it were the maister that commandeth: Speech, the servant that obeyeth. Now the foresaid understanding is not exposed to the injurie of fortune: no slanders raised by Sycophants can take it away: Sicknesse hath no power to corrupt and destroy it; nei­ther doth it decay or perish by olde age: For it is the onely thing that being in yeeres, waxeth yoong and fresh. Length of time which doth diminish and impaire all things else, addeth still more knowledge to our understanding, the elder that we are. So violence of warre which in 10 manner of a streame casteth downe and carieth all away with it, is not able to make havocke and spoyle of knowledge and learning: that onely is not in danger thereof. And in my conceit, Stilpo the Megarian Philosopher gave a most woorthy and memorable answere unto K. Deme­trius, who having forced, sacked and rased the citie of Megara to the very foundation, demaun­ded of him what losses he sustained in that generall sacking? None at all (quoth he) For warre can make no spoile of vertue. To which answere of his, accordeth and soundeth well the Apophthegme of Socrates, who (as I take it) being asked of Gorgias, what opinion he had of the great King and Monarch of the Persians in those daies, whether he deemed him Happie or no? I wot not (quoth he) how he is furnished with vertue and learning. as if he judged, that true felicitie consisted in these two things, and not in the transitorie gifts of fortune. 20

But as my counsell and advice unto parents is, to hold nothing in the world more deere and pretious, then to traine up their children in good letters and vertuous manners: so I say againe, that they ought to have an eie unto that literature and institution which is sound, pure and un­corrupt: furthermore, to sequester and withdraw their children as farre as possibly they can, from the vanitie and foolish desire to be seene and heard in the frequent and publike assemblies of the people. For commonly we finde, that to please a multitude, is to displease the wiser sort. And that I speake truth herein Euripides giveth good testimonie in these verses:

For mine owne part, I observe those men who endevour to speake to the appetite and plea­sure of the base and vulgar sort, that ordinarily they become loose and dissolute persons, aban­doned to all sensualitie. And verily not without great apparance of reason: For if to gratifie and content others, they have no regard of honesty: more likelyhood there is a great deale, that for to do a pleasure to themselves, and feede their owne humour and appetite, they will forget all honor and devoir; yea and sooner give the reines to their owne delights, than follow the streight rules of temperance and sobrietie. 40

But now, what good thing is there moreover, that we are to teach our children? and whereto should we advise them for to give their minds? A goodly matter no doubt it is to do nothing rashly, nor to speake a word unadvisedly: But (as the old Proverbe saith) whatsoever is faire and goodly, the same also is hard and difficult. As for these orations which be made extempore and without premeditation, they goe away with great facilitie, and are verie rash and full of vanitie: And such commonly as so speake, know not well either where to begin or when to­make an end. Also, over and above other absurdities and faults which they commit, who are accustomed in this wise to parle at aventure, and to let their toong runne at randome, know not how to keepe any meane or measure of speech, but fall into a marvellous superfluitie and ex­cesse of wordes: Whereas on the contrarie side, when a man thinketh before hand what hee 50 should say, he will never overshoot him so farre as to passe beyond the bonds of temperate and proportionable language. Pericles, as we have beene given to understand, being oftentimes called upon & importuned by the people, and that expresly by name, for to deliver his opinion as touching a matter in question, would not so much as rise from his place, but excused him­selfe and said, I am provided to speake. Semblably Demosthenes, one who greatly affected [Page 8] the said Pericles, and followed his steps in policy and managing of State affaires, being called by the Athenians to sit in counsell with them, & requested to give his advise in certain points, refu­sed and made the same answer, saying, I have not yet thought upon it, neither am I prepared. But peradventure some man will say, this is an headles tale and a devised report received by tradition from hand to hand, and not grounded upon any certaine testimonie. Listen then, what he saith himselfe in that oration which he made against Midias, wherein he setteth evidently before our eies, the profit that commeth by premeditation: For in one place thereof, these be his words: ‘My Masters of Athens, I confesse plainely, and cannot denie or dissemble, that I have ta­ken as much paines in composing of this oration as possibly I could: For an idle wretch I had beene if having suffred, and suffring still such indignities as these, I would not consider and 10 studie before hand, what I had to say in reason concerning these matters.’ Neither alledge I this, as one who condemned altogether the promptitude and readinesse of the toong, and the gift of utterance extempore, but the ordinary custome and exercise therof in everie smal matter, and of no great importance. For otherwhiles it is tolerable; provided alwaies that we use it so, as we would take a purging medicine. And to speake more plainely, my meaning is, that I would not have yoong men before they bee growen to mans age, for to speake ought without good advise and consideration. But after they bee well grounded and have gathered sufficient roote which may yeelde pithie speech, then if occasion be offered, and that they bee called unto it, I thinke it convenient, they should bee allowed to speake freely. For even as they who have beene fettered a long time and worne yrons on their 20 feere, when they are loosed from their cannot goe well at the first, because they have continued such a while with clogs at their heeles, but ever and anone are ready to trip and stum­ble: so it fareth with those that of long time have beene toong tied (as it were) and restrained of their libertie of speech: For if haply there be presented some matter, whereto they are to speake on a sudden, they will retaine still the same manner and forme of stile, and speake no other­wise than they did before with premeditation. Mary, to suffer yoong boies to make subitanie and inconsiderate orations, is the next way to bring them to yaine babling, and causeth them to utter many words altogether impertinent to the matter. It is reported that upon a time a vaine and foolish painter came to Apelles, and shewed him a picture, saying withall, This Image I drew thus and thus soone. I wot well (quoth Apelles) at the first sight, although thou saidst 30 never a word that it was quickly painted and in haste. And I marvell rather that thou hast not painted many more such in the same time. But to returne againe to my former discourse which I began withall, as touching speech, like as I would give counsell to beware of glorious and brave words, and to avoide that maner of haughtie voice which beseemeth tragedies, and is meete for Theaters: So I advise and admonish againe to flie as much that kinde of language which is too small and over-lowly: For that the one which is so loude and aloft, exceedeth civi­litie: and the other that is as much beneath, bewrayeth overmuch fearfulnesse. Moreover, as the bodie ought not onely to be sound and in health, but also in good plight and well liking: so our speech should be not onely cleere from sicknesse as it were and malady, but also strong and able: For that a thing that is sound and safe only, we do but barely praise: whereas that which is hardy 40 and adventurous, we admire and woonder at. That which I have said, as touching the toong and speech, the same opinion I have of the heart and the disposition thereof. For I would not have a youth to be overbold and audacious: neither do I like of him, if he be too timorous and feare­full: For as the one turneth in the end to presumption and impudencie; so the other into ser­vile cowardise. But here lieth all the maistrie and cunning, as well in this as in all things else, namely, to cut even in the mids, and to hold the golden meane. And since I am entred thus far into the discourse as touching the literature and erudition of youth, before I proceed any far­ther, I will deliver mine opinion thereof generally in these termes: Namely, That to be able to speake of one thing and no more, is first and formest in my conceit no small signe of ignorance. Then, I suppose that the exercise and practise thereof, soone bringeth sacietie. And againe, I 50 hold it impossible to continue evermore in the same: For so to be ever in one song, breedeth tediousnes, and soone a man is weary of it: wheras varietie is alwaies delectable both in this, and also in all other objects as well of the eie as the eare. And therefore it behooveth, that a childe well descended and free borne, be not suffred to want either the fight or the hearing of all those arts and liberall sciences, which are linked as it were and comprehended within one circle, and [Page 9] thereupon called Encyclia. i. Circular. These would I have him to runne through every one superficially, for a taste onely of them all: for as much as to attaine unto the perfection thereof were impossible. Yet so, as his chiefe and principall studie be employed in Philosophie: which opinion of mine I may very well confirme by a proper similitude. For all one it is, as if a man would say, a commendable thing it were to saile along the coasts, and see many a citie: but ex­pedient and profitable to make abode and dwell in the best: and much like to that pleasant and pretie conceited speech of Bion the Philosopher, who said, That even as the lovers and wooers of Lady Penelope, when they could not enjoy the Mistresse herselfe, went in hand with her way­ting maidens, and companied with them: so, as are not able to attaine unto Philosophie, spend and consume themselves in the studie of other Arts, which in comparison of it are nothing 10 woorth. And therefere we ought to make this account, that Philosophie is the principall head (as it were) of all other learning and knowledge whatsoever. True it is, that for the maintenance and preservation of the body, men have devised two Arts, to wit, Physicke and bodily exercise: of which twaine, the one procureth health; the other addeth thereto a good habitude and strong constitution: but for the infirmities and maladies of the soule, there is no other physicke but onely Philosophie: For by the meanes of it and together with it, we may know what is good, what is badde, what is honest and dishonest, what is just, and generally what to choise and what to refuse, how we ought to beare our selves towards the gods, and towards our parents, what our demeanour should bee with our elders, what regard we are to have of lawes, what our cariage must be to strangers, to superiours: how we are to converse with our friends, In 20 what sort we ought to demeane our selves towards our children and wives, and finally, what behaviour it beseemeth us to snew unto our servants and familie: For as much as our duetie is to worship and adore the gods, to honour our parents, to reverence our ancients, to obey the lawes, to give place unto our superiors and betters, to love our friends, to use our wives chastely and with moderation: to be and affectionate to our children, and not to be ouragious with our servants, nor to tyrannize over them. But the principall and chiefe of all is this, not to shew our selves over joious and merrie in prosperitie, nor yet exceeding heavie and sad in ad­versitie: not in pleasures and delight dissolute, nor in anger furious, and transported or rather transformed into brutish beasts by choler. And these I esteeme to be the foveraigne fruits that are to be gathered and gotten by Philosophie. For to carrie a generous and noble heart in pro­speritie, 30 is the part of a brave minded man: to live without envie and malice, is the signe of a good and tractible nature: to overcom pleasures by the guidance of reason, is the act of wise and sage men: and to bridle and restraine choler, is a mastry that every one cannot skill of: But the height of perfection in my judgement those onely attaine unto, who are able to joine and intermingle the politicke government of weale publike with the profession and studie of Philosophie: For by this meanes (I suppose) they may enjoy two of the best things in the world, to wit, the profit of the common weale by managing State affaires: and their owne good, living so as they doc in tranquilitie and repose of mind, by the meanes of Philosophie. For whereas there be amongst men three sorts of life, namely, Active, Contemplative, and Volup­tuous: this last named, being dissolute, loose, and thrall to pleasure, is bruitish, beastly, base and 40 vile: The contemplative wanting the active is unprofitable: and the active, not participating with the speculation of Philosophie, committeth many absurde conormities, and wanteth orna­ments to grace and beautifie it. In which regard, men must endevour and aslay as much as lieth in them both to deale in government of the State, and also to give their mindes to the studie of Philosophie, so farre foorth as they have time, and publike affaires will permit. Thus governed in times past noble Pericles: thus ruled Archytas the Tarentine: thus Dion the Syracusian, and Epaminondas of Thebes swaied the State where they lived; and both of them aswell the one as the other conversed familiarly with Plato. As touching the Institution of children in good literature, needlesse (I suppose) it is to write any more. This onely will I adde unto the rest that hath beene said, which I suppose to be expedient or rather necessarie: namely, that they make 50 no small account of the workes and bookes of the ancient Sages and Philosophers, but diligent­lie collect and gather them together: so as they do it after the maner of good husbandmen: For as they doe make provision of such tooles as pertaine to Agriculture and husbandrie, not onely to keepe them in their possession, but also to use them accordingly: so this reckoning ought to be made, that the instruments and furniture of knowledge and learning, bee good bookes, if [Page 10] they be read and perused: For from thence as from a fountaine they may be sure to maintaine the same.

And here we are not to forget the diligence that is to be imployed in the bodily exercise of children: but to remember that they bee sent into the schooles of those masters who make profession of such feats, there to be trained and exercised sufficiently, aswell for the streight and decent grouth, as for the abilitie and strength of their bodies: For the fast knitting and strong complexion of the bodie in children, is a good foundation to make them another day decent and personable old men. And like as in time of a calme & faire season, they that are at sea, ought to make provision of necessarie meanes to withstand foule weather and a tempest: even so, verie meete it is, that tender age be furnishd with temperance, sobrietie and continencie, and even 10 betimes reserve and lay up such voyage provision, for the better sustenance of old age. Howbeit in such order ought this labour and travell of children to be dispensed, that their bodies be not exhaust and dried up, and so by that meanes they themselves be overwearied, and made either unmeet or unwilling to follow their booke afresh and take their learning: For as Plato said very well, Sleepe and lassitude be enemies to learning. But why do I stand hereupon so much, being in comparison so small a matter?

Proceed I will therefore and make haste to that which is of greatest importance, and passeth all the rest that hath beene said before: For this I say, that youth ought to be trained to militarie feats, namely, in launcing darts and javelins, in drawing a bow and shooting arrowes, in chasing also and hunting wilde beasts. Forasmuch as all the goods of those who are vanquished in 20 fight, be exposed as a prey and bootie to the conquerours: neither are they fit for warfarre and to beare armes, whose bodies having beene daintily brought up in the shade and within house, are corpulent, and of a soft and delicate constitution.

But what may some men say unto me? Sir, you have made promise to give us examples and precepts, concerning the education of all children free borne and of honest parentage: and now, me thinkes you neglect the education of commoners and poore mens children, and deli­ver 30 no instructions but such as are for gentlemen, and be sutable to the rich and wealthie onely. To which objection, it is no hard matter to make answere. For mine owne part, my desire espe­cially is, that this instruction of mine might serve all: but in case there be some, who for want of meanes cannot make that use and profit which I could wish, let them lay the waight upon for­tune, and not blame him who hath given them his advise and counsell in these points. And yet for poore men thus much will I say, Let them endevour and straine themselves to the utmost of their power, to bring up their children in the best manner: and if they cannot reach unto that, yet must they aime thereat, and come as neere as their abilitie will give them leave.

I have beene willing to insert these points by the way, into this present argument, and to charge my discourse over and above therewith, that I might prosecute other precepts remay­ning 40 behinde, which concerne the education of yoong men. Thus much therefore I say moreo­ver, that children must be trained and brought to their duety in all lenity, by faire words, gentle exhortations, and milde remonstrance, and in no wise (pardie) by stripes and blowes: For this course of swinging and beating seemeth meete for bondslaves, rather than persons of free con­dition. And to say a truth, by this meanes they become dull and senselesse, nay they have all studie and labour afterwards in hatred and horrour: partly for the smart and paine which they abide by such correction, and in part by the contumely and reproch that they sustaine thereby. Praise and dispraise be farre better and more profitable to children free borne, than all the whips, rods and boxes in the world: the one for to drive them forward to well doing, the other to draw them backe from doing ill: but both the one and the other are to be used in alternative 50 course. One while they would be commended; another while blamed and rebuked: and name­lie, if at any time they be too jocund and insolent, they ought to be snibbed a little and taken downe, yea and put to some light shame: but soone after, raised up againe by giving them their due praises. And herein we must imitate good nourses, who when they have set their infants a crying, give them the breast for to still them againe. Howbeit, a measure would be kept, and [Page 11] great heed taken that they be not too highly commended, for feare least they grow proude and presume overmuch of themselves: For when they be praised exceedingly they waxe carelesse, dissolute and enervate; neither will they be willing afterwards to take more paines. Moreover, I have knowen certaine fathers, who through excessive love of their children have hated them afterwards. But what is my meaning by this speech? Surely I will declare my minde and make my words plaine anon by an evident example and demonstration. Some fathers (I say) there be, who upon a hot and hastie desire to have their children come soone forward, and to be the formost in every thing, put them to immoderate travell and excessive paines: in such sort, that they either sincke under the waight of the burden, and so fall into greevous maladies, or else finding themselves thus surcharged and overladen, they are not willing to learne that which is 10 taught them. And it fareth with them as it doth with yoong herbes and plants in a garden, which so long as they be watered moderately, are nourished and thrive very well. but if they be overmuch drenched with water, they take harme thereby and are drowned: Even so we must al­low unto children a breathing time betweene their continuall labours: considering and making this account, That all the life of man is divided into labor & rest: and for this cause Nature hath so this account, That all the life of man is divided into labor & rest: and for this cause Nature hath so ordained, that as there is a time to be awake, so we finde a time also to sleepe. One while there is warre, and another while peace: It is not alwaies winter and foule weather, but sommer like­wise and a faire season. There be appointed not onely worke daies to toyle in, but also feastivall holidaies to solace and disport our selves. In sunne, rest and appose, is (as it were) the sance un­to our travaile. And this we may observe as well in senselesse and livelesse things, as in living 20 and sensible creature. For we unbend our bowes, and let slacke the strings of Lutes, Harpes, and such musicall instruments, to the end that we may bend and stretch the same againe. And in one word, as the bodie is preserved and maintained by repletion and evacuation successively; so the minde likewise by repose and travell in their turnes.

Furthermore, there be other fathers also woorthy of rebuke and blame, who after they have once betaken their children to Masters, Tutors and Governors, never deigne afterwards them­selves, either to see or heare them, whereby they might know how they learne: wherein they do faile verie much in their dutie. For they ought in proper person to make triall how they profit, they should ever and anon (after some few daies passed betweene) see into their progresse and proceeding, and not to repose their hope and rest altogether upon the discretion and dispositi­on 30 of a mercenarie master. And verily this carefull regard of the fathers, will worke also grea­ter diligence in the master. themselves, seeing that by this meanes they are called estsoones, as it were to account and examine how much they plie their schollers, and how they profit under their hands. To this purpose may be well applied a prety woord spoken sometimes by a wise estugry of a stable, Nothing (quoth he) feedeth the steede so fat as doth the masters eie.

But above all things, the memorie of children ought daily to be exercised: for that it is as a man would say, the Treasury & Storehouse of all learning. Which was the cause that the ancient Poëts have feigned, That Lady Mnemosyne, that is to say Memorie, was the mother of the Mu­ses: Whereby they would seeme under an aenigmaticall and darke speech to give us to under­stand, that nothing availeth so much either to breed, or to feed and nourish learning, as Memo­rie. 40 And therefore great diligence would be used in the exercise thereof everie way: whether the children be by nature good of remembrance and retentive: or otherwise of a fickle memo­rie and given to oblivion. For the gift of nature in the one, by exercise we shall confirme and augment; and the imperfection or default in the other, by diligence supplie and correct: in such sort, that as they, shall become better than others; so these, shall proove better then them­selves. For verie wisely to this purpose said the Poët Hesiodus:

Over and besides, I would not have fathers to be ignorant of another point also, as touching this memorative part & faculty of the mind: namely, that it serveth much not onely to get lear­ning 50 and literature, but also is a meanes that carieth not the least stroke in wordly affaires: For the remembrance of matters past, furnisheth men with examples sufficient to guide and direct them in their consultatious of future things.

Furthermore, this care would be had of yoong children, that they be kept from filthie and unseemely speeches: For words (as Democritus saith) are the shadowes of deeds. Trained also [Page 12] they must be to be courteous, affable, & faire spoken, aswell in intertainment of talke with every one, as in saluting and greeting whomsoever they meete: for there is nothing in the world so odious as to be coy and surly of speech; to make it strange and to disdaine for to speake with men. Againe, yoong students shall make themselves more lovely and amiable to those with whom they converse, in case they be not so opinative and stiffe that they will not relent nor give place one jot in disputations, if they have once taken a partie against others. For a commenda­ble and goodly matter it is for a man to know, not only how to overcome, but also to suffer him­selfe otherwhiles to be overcome: especially in such things wherein the victorie bringeth hurt and dammage: For verily such a conquest may well and truely be called according to the com­mon Proverbe, A Cadmian victorie, that is to say, which turneth to the detriment and losse of 10 the winner. In confirmation whereof I may well alleage the testimony of the wise Poët Euripi­des, who in one of his tragedies hath these verses:

Now come I to other points wherein youth is to be instructed, and those of no lesse impor­tance, nay rather I may be bolde to say, of greater consequence than all those whereof I have discoursed hitherto: And what be they? Namely, that yoong men be not riotous, and given to superfluity of expence: That they holde their tongue: That they master their anger: and final­ly, 20 That they keepe their hands pure & cleane. But let us consider these precepts particularlie, what ech of them in severall doeth import: and more easily may they be understood, if we illu­strate the same by lively examples. To begin then first with the last: There have beenc knowen great personages, who being once permitted to put forth their hands for to take bribes and mo­ney unjustly, lost all the honor which they had woon therest of their life time: As for example, Vide Plu­tarch. In vita Lysandri. Gylippus the Lacedaemonian, who having once opened those bagges or coffers of money by turning their bottomes upwards, and taken foorth what pleased him, was shamefully banished out of Sparta, and lived obscurely in exile. As touching the gift of bridling choler, and not to be angrie at all, it is a singular vertue, and perfect wise men they are indeed who can so do: Such as Socrates was, who being greatly abused by an insolent, audacious and gracelesse youth, that 30 spared him not, but had spurned & kicked him with his heeles, seeing those about him to be very angrie and out of patience, stamping and faring as though they would run after the partie, to be avenged of such an indignitie; How now my masters (quoth he) what if an asse had flung out, and given me a rap with his heeles, would you have had me to haue yerked out and kicked him againe? Howbeit, this ungracious impe went not clere away with impunity: for being rated for his insolence & leud demeanor, and reproched by everie man with the termes of Winsing asse, Kicking colt, and such like nick-names, he fell into such a fit of melancholie, that he strangled himselfe in a halter. Also when Aristophanes the Poet exhibited the Comedie called Cloudes, wherein he let flie and discharged upon Socrates all maner of slanders and contumelies that he could devise, insomuch as one of them who were present at the very time when he railed thus 40 licentiously, demanded of him, and said, Art thou not netled, ô Socrates, to heare and see thy selfe thus blasoned and noted in publike place? Not a whit (quoth hee againe) for well I wot, that I am in a Theatre, where I make sport, and am laughed at, no otherwise than at some great feast: and glad I am that I can make the audience so merie. The like for all the world, is repor­ted of Archytas, the Tarentine, and Plato: the one being returned home from the warre, where­in he was L. Generall, found his land forlet, neglected and untilled; whereupon he sent for his Bailife of husbandrie, who had the charge thereof: and when he was come before him, Were I not exceeding angrie (quoth he) I would make thee feele my fingers, and give thee thy desert. And Plato being upon a time displeased with a seruant of his, who had a licouroustooth, and had done some ungracious pranke, called unto him Spensippus his sisters sonne, and said, Goe 50 your waies, take me this knave aside, and swinge him well: for I my selfe am verie angrie. But some man perhaps will say unto me, These be hard matters to do and imitate. True it is, I wote well; howbeit, endevour we must and strive with our selves what we can, according to the exam­ple of these worthie men, to cut off somewhat of our impatience, and to curbe our excessive an­ger: for we may not looke to be eqvall and comparable in any respect to them, either in expe­rience [Page 13] and skill or in vertue. Howbeit, let us neverthelesse, like the Priests and Torch-bearers (if I may so say) of the gods, ordeined to give light, and shew unto men the reliques of their wise­dome and learning, no lesse than if they were verie gods, assay to follow them, and tread in their steps, endevouring as much as lieth in us, to be furnished with their examples for our better in­struction. As for the rule and government of the tongue (for of it, according to my promise, I am to discourse) if there be any man, who thinketh it to be no great mastrie, but a small and fri­volous matter, he is verie wide and farre out of the right way. For a point it is of great wisdome, to know in time and place to keepe silence, and farre better by many degrees than any speech whatsoever. And for this cause (I suppose) it was, that our ancestours in times past instituted those precise ceremonies of sacred mysteries, to the end that being used to holde our peace by 10 that meanes, we might transferre that feare which we learned in the service of the gods, to the fi­delitie and secrecie which we are to observe in mens affaires; and verily never was there man that repented for holding his tongue, but many a one hath often beshrewed himselfe for spea­king. Againe, that word which a man hath held in at one time, he may easilie utter at another well enough; but a word once passed out of the mouth, he cannot possibly recall it againe. I re­member that I have heard of an infinite number of men, who by occasion of an intemperate tongue of their own, have fallen headlong into exceeding great calamities, among whom I will select one or two by way of example, to illustrate the theame that I have in hand, & overpasse the rest. Ptolomaeus King of Aegypt, him I meane who was surnamed Philadelphus, espoused his owne sister Arsinoë, and maried her: at what time one Sotades came unto him and sayd, You 20 put your aglet, sir, thorow the oilet that is not made for it: For this one word, he was cast into prison, where he remained a long time in miserie, and rotted in the end, suffering condigne pu­nishment due for his lauish tongue and foolish words: and for that he thought to make other men laugh, himselfe wept for it a long time after. The like, and in a maner the same, both did and suffered another, named Theocritus the Sophister, save that the punishment which he abid was much more grievous. For when King Alexander the Great had by his letters missive given commandement that the Greekes should provide Robes of purple against his returne, because upon his comming home he minded to celebrate a solemne sacrifice unto the Gods, in token of thanksgiving for that he had atchieved a victorie over the Barbarians: by reason of which commaundement the States and cities of Greece were enjoyned to contribute money 30 by the poll, Then this Theocritus, I have ever to this day (quoth he) doubted what Homer meant by this word Purple death: but now I know full well that this is the Purple death which he spea­keth of. By which words he incurred the high displeasure of King Alexander, and made him his heavie friend ever after. The same Theocritus another time procured to himselfe the deadly harted of Antigonus King of the Macedonians, by reproching him in way of mockerie with his deformity and defect, for that he had but one eie. For the King having advaunced Eutropion his Master Cooke to aplace of high calling and commaund, thought him a meete man to be sent unto Theocritus, as well to give account unto him, as also to take account of him reciprocally. Eutropion gave him to understand so much from the King, and about this businesse, repaired often unto him. In the end, I know well (quoth Theocritus) thou wilt never have done untill 40 thou have made a dish of meate of me, and serve me up raw to the table before this Cyclops to be eaten: twitting the King with his one eie, and Eutropion with his cookerie. But Eutropion came upon him againe presently and said: Thou shalt be then without a head first, For I will make thee pay for thy prating and foolish toong, and with that he went immediately to the King, and reported what he had said, who made no more adoe but sent his writ and caused his head to be smitten off.

Over and besides all these precepts before rehearsed, children ought to be inured from their very infancie in one thing which is most holy and beseeming religious education, and that is, to speake the truth: For surely, lying is a base and servile vice, detestable and hatefull among all men, and not pardonable so much as to meane slaves, such as haue little or no good in them. 50 Now as touching all that which I have delivered and advised hitherto which concerneth the honest behaviour, modestie and temperance of yoong children, I have delivered the same franckly, resolutely, and making no doubt thereof. Mary, for one point which now I am to touch and handle, I am not so well resolved, but much distracted in my mind, hanging to and fro as it were in aequall balance, and know not which way to incline, whether to the one side or [Page] to another: Insomuch as I am in great perplexitie and feare: neither wote I whether I were better to go forward and utter it, or to turne backe and hold my peace. And yet I will take heart, and boldly declare what it is. The question to be debated is this, Whether we ought to permit those that love young boies, to converse with them and haunt their companie, or contrariwise, keepe them away and debar them that they neither come neere nor have any speech with them? For when I behold & consider the austere nature & severitie of some fathers, who for feare that their sonnes should be abused, wil in no wise abide that those who love them should in any sort keepe cōpanie, or talke with them, but thinke it intolerable, I am affraid either to bring up such an order or to approove & mainteine the same. But when on the other side I propound before mine eies the examples of Socrates, Plato, Xenophon, Aeschines, Cebes, and all the suit and sort of 10 those woorthy men in times past, who allowed the maner of loving yoong boies, and by that meanes brought such youthes to learne good sciences, to skill of government & State matters, and to frame their maners to the rule and square of vertue, I am turned quite and altogither of another minde, yea and inclined wholly to imitate and follow those great personages, who have the testimonie of the Poet Euripides on their side, saying in one place after this maner,

Neither ought we to overpasse one faying of Plato, which he delivereth betweene mirth and 20 good earnest in this wise, Good reason it is, quoth he, that they who have done woorthy service and atchieved great prowesse and victory in a battaile, be priviledged to kill whom it pleaseth them among their captives. And for those who desire nothing but the bewty and fresh floure of the bodie, mine opinion is they should be put backe & kept away: but such in one word as love of the bewrie of the minde are to be chosen & admitted unto them. Also I hold, that such kind love is to be avoided and forbidden, which they practise in Thebes and Elis, as also that which in Candy they call Ravishment: but that which is used in Athens and Lacedaemon, we ought to receive and allow, even in young and faire boies. Howbeit concerning this matter every man may for me opine what he thinketh good, and do as he seeth cause and can finde in his heart.

Moreover, having sufficiently treated of the good nourture and modest behaviour of chil­dren, 30 I purpose to proceed unto the age of yoong men: but first I will speake my mind [...] once for all as touching one point. For many a time I have complained of those who have brought up divers ill customes & this above the rest, namely to provide for their children whiles they be very yoong and little, masters, teachers and governors: but after they are growen once to some yeeres, they give them head and suffer them to be caried away with the violent heat of youth: whereas contrariwise it were meet and needfull, to have a more carefull eie un­to them, and to hold a streighter hand over them at that time, than during their infancie and childhood. For who knoweth not, that the faults of yoong children are but small, light and easie to be amended, as for example, some shrewdnesse and little disobedience to their tutors and go­vernors, or haply some negligence and default in not giving eare to their teachers, and not 40 doing as their Maisters appoint them: But contrariwise the offences that yonkers commit, are many times outragious and heinous, as gourmandise and surfeting, robbing of their fathers, dice plaie in masks and mummeries, excesse in feasting, banqueting, quaffing and carousing, [...] love of yoong maidens, adulteries committed upon maried wives, & thereby the over­throw of houses and confusion of families. In regard of which enormities, it behooved pa­rents to represse and bridle their wilde and untamed affections with great care and vigilance: For this floure of age having no forecast of thrift, but set altogither upon spending, and given to delights and pleasures, winseth and flingeth out like a skittish and frampold horse, in such sort that it had need of a sharpe bit and short curb: And therefore they that endeuor not by all good meanes forcibly to hold in and restraine this age, but give yoong men libertie and suffer 50 them to do after their own mind, plunge them ere they be aware into a licentious course of life and all maner of wickednesse. Wherefore good and wise fathers ought in this age especially to be vigilant and watchfull over their sonnes, they ought I say to keepe them downe, and inute them to wisedome and vertue, by teaching, by threatning, by intreatie and praiers, by advise and remonstrances, by perswasion and counsell, by faire promises, by setting before their eies the [Page 15] examples of some who being abandoned to their pleasures and all sensualitie, have fallen head­long into great calamities and wofull miseries: and contrariwise, of others who by mastering their lusts and conquering their delights, have wonne honor and glorious renowne. For surely these be the two Elements and foundations of vertue, Hope of reward, and Feare of punish­ment: For, as hope inciteth and setteth them forward to enterprise the best and most commen­dable acts, so feare plucketh them backe, that they dare not enter upon lewd and wicked pranks. In summe, Fathers ought with great care to divert their children from frequenting ill compa­nie, for otherwise they shall be sure to catch infection and carie away the contagion of their leandnes. This is that Pythagoras expresly forbiddeth in his Aenigmaticall precepts under co­vert and dark words, which because they are of no small efficacie to the attaining of vertue, I will 10 briefly set downe by the way, and open their meaning. Taste not (quoth he) of the black tailed fi­shes, Melanuri, which is as much to say, as, Keepe not company with infamons persons, & such as for their naughtie life are noted (as it were) with a blacke coale. Passe not over a balance, That is, we ought to make the greatest account of equitie and justice, and in no case to transgresse the same. Sit not upon the Choenix co­teined 2. sex­tars, or after some a sextar & halfe, which was dimen [...] . Vide Cat. Rhe­diq. lib. 16. cap. 17. [...] . measure Choenix, That is to say, we are to flie sloth and idlenes, that we may forecast to make provision of things necessarie to this life. Give not every man thy right hand, which is all one with this, Make no contracts and bargaines indifferently with all persons. Weare not a ring streight upon thy finger. i. Live in freedome and at libertie; neither intangle and clog thy life with troubles as with gives. Dig not nor rake into the fire with a sword: where­by he giveth us a caveat, not to provoke farther a man that is angrie, for that is not meete and 20 expedient; but rather to give place unto those that are in heat of choller. Ear not thy heart, that is to say, offend not thine owne soule, nor hurt and consume it with pensive cares. Abstaine from beanes. i. Intermeddle not in the affaires of State and government: for that in olde time men were woont to passe their voices by beanes, & so proceeded to the election of Magistrates. Put not viands in a chamber-pot: whereby he signifieth, that we should not commit good and civill words to a wicked minde; because speech is the nutriment of the understanding, which be­commeth polluted by the leudnesse of men. Returne not backe from the limits and confines when thou commest unto them, that is to say, If wee perceive death approching, and that wee are come to the uttermost bounds of our life, we ought to beare our death patiently, and not be discouraged thereat. 30

But now is it time to retume againe to my matter which I proposed before in the beginning, namely, as I have alreadie said, we are to withdraw our children from the societie and companie of leud persons, and flatterers especiallie: for that which many a time and often I have said to divers and sundrie fathers, I will now repeat once againe, namely, That there is not a more mis­chievous and pestilent kinde of men, or who doe greater hurt to youth, and sooner overthrow them, then these flatterers, who are the undoing both of fathers and sonnes, causing the olde age of the one, and the youth of the other, wretched and miserable, presenting with their leud and wicked counsels an inevitable bait, to wit, Pleasure, wherewith they are sure to be caught. Fa­thers exhort their sonnes that be wealthie, to sobrietie; and these incite them to drunkenesse. Fathers give them counsell to live chaste and continent; these provoke them to lust and loose­nesse 40 of life. Fathers bid them to save, spare, and be thriftie; these will them to spend, scatter, and be wasters. Fathers advise their children to labour and travell; these flatterers give them counsell to play or sit still and doe nothing; What? all our life, say they, is no more but a mo­ment and minute of time, to speake of: we must live therefore, and enjoy our owne, whiles wee have it: we must not live beside our selves, and languish. What need you regard and care for the menaces of a father, an olde doting foole carying death in his face, and having one foot in the grave, we shall see him one of these dayes turne up his heeles, and then will we soone have him forth, and cary him aloft bravely to his grave. You shall have one of these come, and bring unto a youth some common harlot out of the stinking stewes, having bome him in hand be­fore, that she is some brave dame and citizens wife, for to furnish whom, he must robbe his fa­ther, 50 there is no remedie. Thus fathers, goodmen, in one houre are bereaved and spoiled of that which they had saved many a yeere for the maintenance of their olde age. To be short, a wretched and cursed generation they be; hypocrites, pretending friendship, but they can not skill of plaine dealing and franke speech. Rich men they claw, sooth up and flatter: the poore they contemne and despise. It seemeth they have learned the Art of singing to the Harpe, for [Page 16] to seduce yoong men: for when their yoong masters, who mainteine and feed them, begin to laugh, then they set up by and by a loud laughter, then they yawne & shew all their teeth; coun­terfeit cranks, fained and supposed men; bastard members of mankinde and this life; who com­pose themselves, and live to the will and pleasure of rich men: and notwithstanding their for­tune is to be free borne, and of franke condition, yet they chuse voluntarily to be slaves: who thinke they have great injurie done unto them, if they may not live in all fulnesse and superflui­tie, to be kept delicately, and doe nothing that good is. And therefore all futhers that have any care of their childrens good education and wel doing, ought of necessitie to chase and drive a­way from them these gracelesse imps and shamelesse beasts: they shall doe well also to keepe from them such schoole-fellowes as be unhappie and given to doe shrowd turnes: for such as 10 they, are enough to corrupt and marre the best natures in the world.

All these rules and lessons which hitherto I have delivered, do concerne honestie, vertue and profit: but those that now remaine behinde, pertaine rather to humanity, and are more agreea­ble to mans nature. For in no case would I have fathers to be verie hard, sharpe and rigorous to their children: but I could rather wish and desire that they winke at some faults of a yoong man, yea and pardon the same when they espie them, remembring that they themselves were sometimes yoong. For like as Physitians mingling and tempering otherwhiles some sweetejuice or liquid with bitter drugs and medicines, have devised that pleasure and delight should be the meanes and way to do their patients good: Even so, fathers ought to delay their eager reprehensions and cutting rebukes with kindnesse and clemencie: one while letting the 20 bridle loose, and giving head a little to the youthfull desires of their children: another while againe reigning them short and holding them in, as hard: but above all, with patience gently to beare with their faults. But if so be fathers cannot otherwise doe, but be soone angrie; then they must assoone have done and be quickly pacified. For I had rather that a father should be hastie with his children, so he be appeased anon: then show to anger, and as hard to be pleased againe. For when a father is so hard harted, that he will not be reconciled, but carieth still in minde the offence that is done, it is a great signe that he hateth his children. And I hold it good that fathers somtime take not knowlege of their childrens faults, and in this case make some use of hard hearing and dimme sight, which old age ordinarily bringeth with it, as if by reason of these infirmities, they neither saw somewhat when they see well ynough, nor heard that which 30 they heare plainely. We beare with the faults of friends; what strange matter is it then to tole­rate the imperfections of our owne children? Many a time when our servants have overdrunke themselves, & surfeited therwith, we search not too narrowly into them, nor rebuke them sharp­ly: therefore keepe thy sonne one while short, be franke another while, and give him money to spend freely. Thou hast beene highly offended, and angrie with him once, pardon him ano­ther time for it. Hath he practised secretly with any one of thy houshold servants, and beguiled thee? Dissemble the matter and bridle thine yre. Hath he beene at one of thy farmes, met with a good yoke of oxen & made money therof? Commeth he in the morning to do his dutie and bid thee good morrow, belching sowre and smelling strongly of wine, which the day before he drunke at the taverne with companions like himselfe? seeme to know nothing. Senteth he of 40 sweete perfumes and costly pomanders? Hold thy peace and say nothing. These are the means to tame and breake a wilde and coltish youth. True it is, that such as naturally be subject to wan­tonnesse or carnall lust, and will not be reclaimed from it, not give eare to those that rebuke them, ought to have wives of their owne and to be yoked in marriage: for surely this is the best and surest meanes to bridle those affections, and to keepe them in order. And when fathers are resolved upon this point, what wives are they to seeke for them? Surely those, that are neither in blood much more noble, nor in state farre wealthier than they: For an old said saw it is and a wise, Take a wife according to thy selfe. As for those that wed women farre higher in degree, or much wealthier than themselves, I cannot say they be husbands unto their wives, but rather slaves unto their wives goods. 50

I have yet a few short lessons to annexe unto those above rehearsed, which when I have set downe, I will conclude, and knit up these precepts of mine. Above all things fathers are to take heed, that they neither commit any grosse fault, nor omit any one part of their owne dutie: to the end they may be as lively examples to their owne children; who looking into their life as into a cleere mirrour, may by the precedents by them given, forbeare to do or speake any thing [Page 17] that is unseemely and dishonest: For such fathers who reproove their children for those parts which they play themselves, see not how under the name of their children they condemne their owne selves. But surely, all those generally who are ill livers, have not the heart to rebuke so much as their owne servants; much lesse dare they finde fault with their children. And that which is woorst of all, in living ill themselves, they teach and counsell their servants and chil­dren to do the same: For looke where old folke be shamelesse, there must yoong people of ne­cessitie be most graceles and impudent Endevour therfore we ought for the resormation of our children, to do our selves all that our dutie requireth: and heerein to imitate that noble Ladie Eurydice, who being a Slavonian borne, and most barbarous, yet for the instruction of her owne children, she tooke paines to learne good letters when she was well stept in yeeres. And how 10 kinde a mother she was to her children, this Epigram which she her selfe made and dedicated to the Muses, doth sufficiently testifie and declare:

But now to conclude this Treatise, To be able to observe and keepe all these precepts and rules together which I have before set downe, is a thing haply that I may wish for, rather than give advise and exhort unto. Howbeit, to affect and follow the greater part of them, although it require a rare felicitie and singular diligence; yet it is a thing that man by nature is capable of, and may attaine unto. 30

READING AND HEARING of Poemes and Poets. 20

THat which the Poet Philoxenus said of flesh, that the sweetest is that which is least flesh: of fish likewise that the most favorie is that which is least fish, let us, O Marcus Sedatus, leave to be decided and judged by those, who as Cato said, had their palats more quicke and sensible than their hearts. But, that yoong men take more pleasure in those Philosophicall discourses, which favour least of Philoso­phie, and seeme rather spoken in mirth than in earnest, and are more willing to give care thereto, and suffer themselves more easily to be led and directed thereby, is a thing to us notorious and evi­dent. 30 For we see, that in reading not onely Aesops fables and the fictions of Poets, but also the booke of Heraclides entituled Abaris, and that of Ariston, named Lycas; wherein the opini­ons of Philosophers as touching the soule, are mingled with tales and feigned narrations devi­sed for pleasure, they be ravished as one would say with great contentment and delight. And therefore such youthes ought not onely to keepe their bodies sober and temperate in the plea­sures of meate and drinke, but also much more to accustome their minds to a moderate delight in those things which they heare and read, using the same temperately as a pleasant and delecta­ble sauce to give a better and more favorie taste to that which is healthfull, holsome and profita­ble therein. For neither those gates that be shut in a city do guard the same and secure it for be­ing forced and won, if there be but one standing open to receive and let in the enimies: nor the 40 temperance and continencie in the pleasures of other senses preserve a yoong man for being corrupted and perverted, if for want of forecast and heed taking he give himselfe to the plea­sure onely of the care. But for that the hearing approcheth neerer to the proper seat of reason and understanding (which is the braine) so much the more hurt it doth unto him that receiveth delectation thereby, if it be neglected, and not better heed taken thereto. Now forasmuch hap­ly, as it is neither possible nor profitable, to restraine from the reading and hearing of Poemes, such yoong men as are of the age either of my soone Soclarus, or of your Cleander, let us I praie you, have a carefull eie unto them, as standing more in need of a guide now to direct them in their readings, then they did in times past to stay and dade them when they learned to go. This is the reason, that me thought in dutie I was bound to send unto you in writing, that which not 50 long since I discoursed of by mouth, as touching the writings of Poets: to the end that you may reade it your selfe, and if you find that the reasons therein delivered be of no lesse vertue & effi­cacie than the stones called Amethysts, which some take before and hang about their necks, to keepe them from drunkennesse as they sit at bankets, drinking wine merily; you may impart and communicate the same to your sonne Cleander, to preoccupate and prevent his nature, [Page 19] which being not dull and heavie in any thing, but every way quicke, lively and pregnant, is more apt and easie to be led by such allurements.

for that the flesh thereof is pleasant and favorie enough in taste to him that feedeth there­upon: but (as they say) it causeth troublesome dreames in the sleepe, and imprinteth in the fan­tasie strange and monstrous visions. Semblablie, there is in Poesie much delectation and plea­sure, enough to entertaine and feed the understanding and spirit of a yoong man: yet neverthe­lesse, hee shall meet with that there which will trouble and cary away his minde into errours, if his hearing be not well guided and conducted by sage direction. For verie well and fitly it may 10 be said not onely of the land of Aegypt, but also of Poetrie;

which it bringeth foorth and yeeldeth to as many as converse therein. Likewise:

For that which is so deceitfull and dangerous therein, toucheth not at all those that be wit­lesse sots, fooles, and grosse of conceit. Like as Simonides answered upon a time to one, who de­manded 20 of him, Why he did not beguile and circumvent the Thessalians aswell as all other Greeks; Because, quoth he, they are too sottish for me to deale withall, and so rude, that I can not skill of deceiving them. Gorgias also the Leontine was woont to say of a Tragedie, That it was a kinde of deceit, whereby he that deceived became more just than he who deceived not; and he that was deceived, wiser than another who was not deceived. What is then to be done? Shall we constraine our youth to goe aboord into the Brigantine or Barke of Epicurus, to saile a­way and flie from Poetrie, by plastring and stopping their eares with hard and strong waxe, as Vlisses sometimes served those of Ithaca? or rather by environing and defending their judge­ment with some discourse of true reason, as with a defensative band about it, to keepe and guard them, that they be not caried away with the allurements of pleasure, unto that which might hurt 30 them: Shall we reforme and preserve them?

shewed himselfe not wise nor well in his wits, when he went throughout his whole realme and caused all the vines to be cut downe and destroied, because he saw many of his subjects troubled in their braines and drunken with wine: whereas he should rather have brought the nymphes (which are the spring waters) neerer, and keepe in order that foolish, furious and outragious god Bacchus as Plato saith, with another goddesse that was wise and sober. For the mingling of water with wine, delaieth and taketh away the hurtfull force thereof: but killeth not withall the holsome vertue that it hath: Even so we ought not to cut off, nor abolish Poetrie, 40 which is a part and member of the Muses and good literature: But when as the straunge fables and Theatricall fictions therein, by reason of the exceeding pleasure and singular delight that they yeeld in reading them, do spred and swell unmeasurably, readie to enter forcibly into out conceit so farre as to imprint therein some corrupt opinions: then let us beware, put foorth our hands before us, keepe them backe and staie their course. But where there is a Grace and Muse met togither, that is to say, delight conjoigned with some knowledge and learning: where I say, the attractive pleasure and sweetenesse of speech, is not without some fruit nor void of utilitie, there let us bring in withall the reason of Philosophie, and make a good medly of pleasure and profit together. For as the herbe Mandragoras growing neere unto a vine, doth by infusion transmit her medicinable vertue into the wine that commeth of it, and procureth in them that 50 drinke afterwards thereof, a more milde desire and inclination to sleepe soundly: Even so, a Poëme receiving reasons and arguments out of Philosophie, and intermingling the same with fables and fictions, maketh the learning and knowledge therein conteined to be right amiable unto yoong men, and soone to be conceived. Which being so, they that would be learned and Philosophers indeed, ought not to reject and condemne the works of Poetrie, but rather search [Page 20] for Philosophie in the writings of Poëts: or rather therein to practise Philosophie, by using to seeke profit in pleasure, and to love the same: otherwise, if they can finde no goodnesse therein, to be displeased and discontented, and to fall out therewith. And truely this is the very begin­ning of knowledge and learning: for according to the Poët Sophocles,

First and formost therefore, the yoong man whom we would induct and traine to the rea­ding of Poësie, ought to have nothing in his heart so well imprinted, nor so readie at hand, as this common saying,

And verily as Poets sometimes lie wilfully, so otherwhiles they do it against their wils: wil­fully and of purpose, for that being desirous to tickle and please the eares, a thing which most Readers desire and seeke after, they thinke that simple and plaine veritie is more austere for that purpose then leasing: For truth recounting a thing as it was done, keepeth to it still, and albeit the issue and the end thereof haply be unpleasant, yet neverthelesse she goeth not aside but re­porteth it outright: whereas a tale or lie devised for delight, quickly diverteth out of the way, and soone turneth from a thing which greeveth, unto that which is more delightsome. For there is no song in time and metre, no trope or figuratiue speech, no lostie stile, no metaphor so fitly borowed, no harmonie, no composition of words, how smoothly soever they run, that 20 carieth the like grace, and is either so attractive or retentive, as a fabulous narration well cou­ched, artificially enterlaced, and aptly delivered. But as a picture drawen to the like, the colour is more effectuall to moove & affect our sense, then the simple purtraying and first draught, by reason of a certaine resemblance it hath to the personage of man or woman, which deceiveth our judgement: Even so, in Poëmes, a lie intermingled with some probabilitie and like lihood of a truth doth excite and stirre more, yea and please better by farre, than all the arte and studie that a man is able to employ either in composing excellent verses, or enditing any polished prose, without enterlarding fables and sictions Poëticall. Whereupon it came to passe, that Socrates who all his life time made great profession to be a desender and mainteiner of the truth, being minded upon a time to take in hand Poetrie, by occasion of certeine dreames and visions 30 appeering unto him in his sleepe: in the enterprise whereof finding himselfe to have no apt­nesse nor grace at all in devising lies, did into verse certaine fables of Aesope, supposing verilie there could be no Poësie where there were no lies. Many sacrifices we know to have beene cele­brated without piping and dauncing. But never was there knowen any Poetrie, but it was grounded upon some vaine fables & loud leasing. The verses of Empedocles and Parmemdes, the booke of Nicander entituled Thersara, where he treateth of the biting and stinging of venemous serpents, and of their remedies, The morall sentences of Theognis are writings which borrow of Poetrie their lostinesse of stile and measure of syllables, to beare them up mounted on high to avoid the base foote pace (as it were) of prose. When as we read therefore in Poeticall com­positions, any strange and absurd thing, as touching the Gods, demy-gods, or vertue, spoken by 40 some worthy personage of great renowne, he that beleeveth such a speech and receiveth it as an undoubted truth, wandereth in error and is corrupted in opinion: but he that ever and anon re­membreth and setteth before his cies the charmes and illusions that Poetrie ordinarily useth in the invention of lying fables, and estsoones blesse himselfe and say thus thereto,

He I say, shall never take harme, nor admit into his understanding any evill impression, but re­prechend and reproove himselfe when he feareth Neptune, and standeth in dread, least he shake 50 cleaue and open the earth, and so discover hell: he will rebuke also himselfe when he is offended and angrie with for Apollo the principal [...] . man of all the Greekes, of whom Thetu complaineth thus in the Poet Aesohylus, as touching Achilles her sonne.

He will like wise represse the treares of Achilles now departed, and of Agamemnon being in hell, who in their desire to revive and for the love of this life, stretch foorth their impotent and seeble hands. And if it chaunce at any time that he be troubled with passions, and surprised with their enchantments and sorcerie, he will not sticke nor feare to say thus unto himselfe,

Homer spake this in mirth and pleasantly, fitting indeed the discourse, wherein he describeth hell as being in regard of the fiction a tale fit for the eares of women and none els: These be the fables that Poets do feigne voluntarily. But more in number there are which they neither de­visenor counterfeit, but as they are perswaded and do beleeve themselves, so they would beare us in hand and infect us with the same untruthes, as namely when Homer writeth thus of Iupiter,

To this fiction Aeschylus the Poët hath aptly fitted one entire Tragedie, which he intituled 20 Psychostasia, that is to say, the weighing of Soules or ghosts in balance. Wherein he deviseth to stand at these skales of Iupiter, Thetu of the one side, and Aurora of the other, praying each of them for their sonnes as they fight. But there is not a man who seeth not cleerely, that this it but a made tale and meere fable devised by Homer, either to content and delight the Reader, or to bring him into some great admiration and astonishment. Likewise in this place:

As also this of another Poët:

These and such like speeches are delivered by Poëts, according to the very conceit and be­liese which they have, whereby the errour and ignorance which themselves are in as touching the nature of the gods they derive and communicate unto us. Semblably, the strange wonders and marvels of Hell; The descriptions by them made which they depaint unto us by fearefull and terrible termes, representing unto us the fantasticall apprehensions and imaginations of burning and flaming rivers, of hideous places and horrible torments: there are not many men but wot well ynough that therein be tales and lies good store: no otherwise than in meates and viands, you shall finde mixed otherwhiles hurtfull poyson, or medicinable drugs. For neither Homer nor Pindarus, nor Sophocles, have written thus of Hell, beleeving certainely that there were any such things there: 40

Likewise,

As also,

And as many of them as bewailed and lamented for death as a most piteous and woful thing, or feared want of sepulture as a miserable and wretched case, uttered their plaints and griefes in these and such like words:

[Page 22] Semblably,

Likewise,

These are the voices I say of passionate persons, captivate before to error and false opinions. And therefore they touch us more neerely, and trouble us so much the rather, when they finde us likewise possessed of such passions and feeblenes of spirit, from whence they proceed. In which regard we ought to be prepared betimes, and provided alwaies before hand to encounter and withstand such illusions, having this sentence readily evermore resounding in our cares as it were from a trunke or pipe, That Poetrie is fabulous, and maketh smal reckoning of Truth. As for the truth indeed of these things, it is exceeding hard to be conceived & comprehended even by those who travell in no other businesse, but to search out the knowledge and understanding of the thing, as they themselves do confesse. And for this purpose these verses of Empedocles would be alwaies readie at hand, who saith that the depth of such things as these 20

Like as these also of Xenophanes.

And I assure you, The very words of Socrates in Plato imply no lesse, who protesteth and bindeth it with an oath, that he cannot attaine to the knowledge of these matters. And this will be a good motive to induce yoong men to give lesse credit unto Poëts, as touching their 30 certaine knowledge in these points, wherein they perceive the Philosophers themselves so doubtfull and perplexed, yea and therewith so much troubled.

Also the better shall we stay the mind of a yoong man & cause him to be more warie, if at his first entrance into the reading of Poëts, we describe Poetrie unto him: giving him to understand that it is an art of Imitation, & a science correspondent every way to the seat of painting: and not onely must he be acquainted with the hearing of that vulgar speech so common in every mans mouth, that Poësie is a speaking picture, and picture a dumbe Poësie: but also we ought to teach him, that when we behold a Lizard or an Ape wel painted, or the face of Thersites lively drawen, we take pleasure therein & praise the same wonderfully; not for any beautie in the one or in the other, but because they are so naturally counterfeited. For that which is soule of it selfe & ilfavo­red 40 in the owne nature, cannot be made faire & seemly: but the skil of resembling a thing wel, be the same faire or be it foule, is alwaies commended: wheras contrariwise, he that takes in hand to purtray an ilfavoured bodie, and makes thereof a faire & beautifull image, shall exhibite a sight neither seemely nor decent. Some painters you shall have to delight in painting of strange, foolish and absurd actions: as for example Timomachus represented in a table the picture of Medea, killing her owne children: Theon painted Orestes murthering his owne mother: Parrha­sius described with his pensill, the counterfeit race and madnesse of Vlisses, and Charepha­nes purtrayed the wanton dalliance, and dealing of men and women together unseemely. With which arguments and such like, a yoong man is to be made acquainted, that he may learne thereby how the thing it selfe is not praise woorthie, where of he seeth the expresse resemblance, 50 but the art and cunning of the workeman who could so artificially draw the same to the life. Semblably, for asmuch as Poësie representeth many times by way of imitation, filthie actions, leaud affections, and vicious manners: it is the part of a yoong man to know thus much, That the thing which is admired therein and found to be singular, he ought not either to receive as true, or proove as good, but to praise it so far foorth onely as it is befitting the person, or appro­priate [Page 23] to the subject matter. For like as when we heare the grunting of a swine, the creaking of a cart wheele, the whistling noise of the winde, or the roaring of the sea, we take no pleasure therein, but are troubled and discontented: but contrariwise, if a merie fellow or jester can pre­tily counterfeit the same, as one Parmeno could grunt like a swine, and Theodorus creake like the said wheeles, we are delighted therewith. Also, as we shun a diseased person, and a Lazar full of filthy ulcers, as an unpleasant and hideous spectacle to beholde: but when we looke upon Phila­ctetes purtraied by Aristophon; and queene Iocasta by Stlanian: namely, how they be described to pine away, and ready to yeeld up the ghost, we receive no small contentment thereby: even so a yoong man when hee shall reade what the ridiculous jester Thersites, or the amorous and wanton spoiler of maiden, Sisyphus, or the beastly bawd Betrochus, is brought in by Poets to say 10 or doe; let him be advertised and instructed to praise the art and sufficiencie of the Poet, who knew how to paint the same so lively and naturally: but withall to blame, reject, and detest the acts and conditions which are thus represented. For there is a great difference betweene resem­bling a thing well, and a thing that is simply good: for when I say Well, I meane aptly, decently and properly: and so acts filthie and dishonest, are fit and beseeming for lewd and unhonest persons. For the shoes of that lame creple Demonides, which he prayed to God might serve his feet that had stollen them from him, were in themselves misshapen and ilfavoured; howbeit, proper and fit for him: As for this speech,

And this:

Also:

Likewise:

Wicked words they be all, and most false; howbeit, beseeming such as Eteocles and Ixion were, and becomming well an olde Vsurer. If therefore wee would aduertise yoong men, that Poets write thus, not as if they praised and allowed such speeches, but as they know full well that 40 they be lewd and naughtie, so they do attribute them unto as wicked and godlesse persons, they should never take harme by any evill impressions from Poets: but contrariwise, the prejudicate opinion insinuated first, of such & such a man, will presently breed a suspition both of word and deed to be bad, as spoken and done by a bad and vicious person. Such an example is that of Pa­ris in Homer, who flying out of the battell, went presently to bed unto faire Helena. For seeing that the Poet reporteth of no man els, but only of this unchast adulterous Paris, that he lay with his wife in the day time: it is an evident proofe that he reputed and judged such incontinencie to be reprochfull, and therefore made report thereof to his blame and shame both. In these ca­ses also it would be well considered whether the Poët himselfe do not give some plaine demon­strations emplying thus much, that he misliketh such speeches, and is offended therewith, as 50 Menander did in the Prologue of that Comedie, which he entituled Thais.

And verily in this kinde, Homer among all other Poëts doth excell, and useth such advertise­ments with best discretion: for it is ordinarie with him both to premise some reprehension and blame of evill speeches, and also to recommend the good. And for an instance heereof, in this wise he giveth commendation of a good speech, 10

Againe,

Semblably on the other side, reprooving bad and lewd speeches, he in a maner doth protest that he himselfe misliketh of them, and therewith denounceth likewise, and doth intimate unto the readers thus much in effect, That they should make no use thereof, nor take regard, other­wise than of wicked things and dangerous examples: as namely when he purposed to describe the rude and grosse termes that Agamemon gave unto the Priest of Apollo, when he abused him 20 unreverently, he premised this before;

By this word Badly, he meaneth rudely, proudly, disdainfully, without regard of dutie or de­cencie. As for Achilles he attributeth unto him these rash and outragious speeches,

But he inferred withall his owne judgement as touching those words in this maner,

For it is not like that any thing could be well and decently spoken proceeding from such anger and bitter choler, he observeth the same not in words onely but also in deeds. For thus he saith,

He useth also fitly to the purpose pretie reprehensions after things be done, delivering his own sentence, as it were by way of a voice given, touching that which was either done or said a little before: As for example, after the narration of the adultery betweene Mars and Venus, he repor­teth that the gods spake in this sort: 40

And in another place, upon the audatious presumption and proud vaunting of Hector, thus he saith,

Likewise as touching the arrow that Pandarus shot,

And these be the sententious speeches, & opinions of Poets, by them expresly uttered, which 50 any man may soone find & easily discerme, if he will but take heed & give regard unto them. But yet over & besides these testimonies, they furnish us also with other instructions by their owne deeds. For thus it is reported of Euripides, that when upō a time some reviled Ixion & reproched him by the termes of Godlesse, Wicked & Accursed: he answered, True indeed quoth he, and therefore I would not suffer him to be brought frō the Stage, before I had set him fast upon the [Page 25] wheele, & broken both his armes & legs. True it is that this kinde of Doctrine in Homer is after a sort mute & not delivered in plaine & expresse termes: but if a man will cōsider more neerely, even those fables & fictions in him, which are most blamed & found fault withall, there may be found therein a profitable instruction & covert speculation: And yet some there be who wrest & writhe forcibly the said fables another way by their Allegories, (for so they call in these daies those speeches wherein one thing is spoken & another ment, whereas in times past they were termed Hypponaeae, for the hidden meaning couched under them) whereby they would make us beleeve that the fiction as touching the adulterie of Mars & Venus signifieth thus much, That when the Planet of Mars, is in conjunction with that of Venus in some Horoscopes and Nati­vities, such persons then borne shall bee enclined to adulteries: but if the Sun do then arise, 10 passe, and overtake them, then such adulteries are in danger to be discovered and the parties to be taken in the very act. Now as touching Iuno how she embellisheth and adorneth herselfe be­fore Iupiter, as also the fiction and sorcerie about the needle worke girdle and Tissue which she borowed of Venus, they would have it to signifie a certaine purging and cleering of the aire, as it approcheth neere to the fire: as if the Poet himselfe gave not the interpretation and exposi­tion of such doubts: For in the tale of the adulterie of Venus, he meaneth nothing els, but to teach them that gave eare thereto, how wanton musicke, lascivious songs, and speeches groun­ded upon evill arguments and conteining naughtie matters, corrupt our maners, induce us to a luxurious, loose and effeminate life, and cause men to be subject unto pleasures, delights, sen­sualitie and lust, and given over to the love of women: as also 20

And therefore the same Homer bringeth in Vlysses, commanding the Musician who sung to the Harpe, in this wise

Giving us thereby a good instruction, that Minstrels, Musitians and Poets should receive the matter and argument of their compositions from wise men, sober, sage and vertuous. And as touching that fable of Iuno, he sheweth how the love, favor, and acquaintance which women win of men by charmes, sorceries and enchantments with fraud and deceit, is a thing not onely tran­sitorie 30 and of small continuance, unsure, and whereof a man hath soone enough and is quickly weary, but also that which many times turneth to hatred, anger and enmitie, so soone as the pre­sent pleasure is once past: For thus threatneth Iupiter and saith,

For the shew and representation of wicked deeds, if there be propounded withall the shame and losse which befalleth unto them that have committed the same, doth no hurt at all, but rather much good unto the hearers. As for Philosophers verily, they use examples taken out of histo­ries, to admonish and instruct the readers, even by such things as be at hand, and either are or have beene really so: but Poets do in deed the same, and in effect, howbeit they devise and in­vent 40 matter of their owne heads, they feigne fables I say, fitting their purpose. Certes like as Melanthius said, betweene bord and good earnest, that the citie of Athens stood upright on foote and was preserved by meanes of the division, discorde and trouble which was among or a­tours and Politicians; for that all the citizens leaned not altogither to a side, nor bare levelly upon one and the same wall, and so by reason of the variance which reigned among the States men, there was evermore some one counterpoise or other, weighing even against that which endamaged the common-weale: even so the contradictions that are found in the writings of Poets, which draw the assent and beleefe of the readers reciprocally to and fro, and leave matters ambiguous and doubtfull, are a cause that they be not of so great moment and weight, as to en­damage or endaunger much. When as therefore we meet with such repugnant places among 50 them, which being laid neere togither do implie evident contrarieties, we ought to encline to the safer side and favor the better part, As namely in these verses,

But contrariwise, what saith the sonne againe?

Likewise in one place:

But elsewhere:

Moreover when we read:

We must be ready with this

These and such like diversities of doubtfull sentences, are soone assoiled and dissolved, in case, as I have before said, we direct the judgement of yoong men to adhere unto the better part. But say, we light upon some wicked and ungodly speech, without any answere adjoyned thereto for to refell the same presently: what then is to be done? Surely we must confute it, by opposing contrarie sentences of the same author in other places: niether are we to be angrie or offended with the Poët in this case; but rather thinke they be words either merily spoken, or on­ly to represent the nature of some person, & with him only to be displeased. Moreover, against 20 these fictions in Homer, when he reporteth how the gods fall together by the eares, and throw one another downe: or that they be wounded in some battell by the hands of mortall men: also that they beat variance and debate: you may if you will by and by oppose that which he him­selfe speaketh in another place, and so beat him with his owne rod: saying thus unto him,

And verily you both utter better wordes, and thinke of better matters otherwise in these places:

Also:

Likewise:

For these are the true and safe conceptions which we ought to have as touching the Gods: And for all other fabulous fictions and attributes given unto them, they have beene devised on­ly to give contentment to the readers, or to moove their affections, In like case whereas Euri­pides saith: 40

It were not amisse to alledge and inferre that which he writeth better and more truely in ano­ther place:

Also when Pindarus speaketh verie bitterly and eagerly in one place, tending altogether to revenge:

We may come upon him againe and answer thus: But you good Sir elsewhere affirme, That

Moreover, when we heare Sophocles in this song:

Reply we ought and say thus: We have heard you sing in another tune:

Furthermore to encounter these speeches which are delivered as touching riches:

The Reader may alleage many opposite sentences of Sophocles, and these among the rest:

Also:

Likewise: 20

And Menander verily in one place hath highly praised and extolled sensuall lust and concu­piscence, whereby he set them forward who are of an hot nature, and of themselves prone to vo­luptuousnes, namely, in these and such like amatorious words:

Howbeit, in another the same Poët hath turned us about, and forcibly drawen us unto hone­stie, repressing and bridling the insolent furie of a loose and luxurious life, saying in this wise:

These sayings are in some fort contrarie to the former, but far better and more profitable every way. And therefore the setting together and consideration of such contradictorie sen­tences, will bring foorth one of these two effects: for either it will draw yoong men to the bet­ter way, or at leastwise derogate the credit of the woorst.

But if peradventure it come to passe that the Poëts themselves do not solve and salve those 40 strange and absurd sayings, which they seeme to set abroad: it were not amisse to oppose against them, the contrarie sentences of other famous authors: and when wee have weighed and compared them in balance, to make proofe thereby which are the better. As for example, if haply Alexis the Poët hath prevailed with some by these verses of his:

We must call to minde and remember, that the sage Socrates was of another opinion and spake the contrarie: for he was woont to say, that the wicked lived for to eate and drinke; but the vertuous did both eat and drinke, to live. Semblably, to meete with this verse of the Poët who ever it was that wrote thus:

Bidding us in some sort to accommodate and frame our selves like to the lewd and wicked: we may be readie with that notable Apophthegme of Diogenes, who being asked how a man might be revenged best of his enemie, answered thus, If (quoth he) thou shew thy selfe a good and honest man. The wisedome also of the said Diogenes we must set against the Poët Sopho­cles, who troubled the minds and consciences of many thousands, with distrust and dispaire, by writing these verses as touching the religion and confraternity in the Mysteries of Ceres:

How now, quoth Diogenes, when he heard such verses read: Saist thou so indeed? And shall Pataecian the notorious theese be in better state after this life when he is once departed, only be­cause he was entred and professed in the orders of this confraternitie, than good Epiminondas? As for Timotheus, when upon a time in the audience of a full Theatre, he chaunted a Poeme which he had compiled in the honor of Diana, wherein he stiled her with the Attributes and Epithets, of Menas, Thyas, Phoebas and Lyssas, which signifie, Furious, Enraged, Possessed, 20 and starke Mad: Cinnesias presently cried presently aloud unto him, I would thou haddest a daughter of thine owne with such qualities. The like elegant answere Bion is reported to have made unto Theognis. For when Theognis came out with these verses,

Bion hearing them, How commeth it then to passe quoth he, that thou thy selfe being but a beggar keepest such a prating as thou doest, and with thy vaine babling and garrulitie troublest our eares?

Moreover we must not in any wise omit and let passe the occasions which are ministred out 30 of the words and sentences either adjoyning, or intermingled with those speeches, for to re­forme and correct the same: But like as Physicions are of opinion, that notwithstanding the greene Flies Cantharides be of themselves venemous and a deadly poison; yet their wings and feete are helpefull and holsome: yea and of vertue to frustrate and kill the malice of the said flies: even so in the Poemes and writings of Poets, if there be one Nowne or Verbe hanging to a sentence that we feare will do harme, which Nowne or Verbe may in some sort weaken the said hurtfull force, we are to take hold thereof, and to stand upon the signification of such words more at large, as some do in these verses,

As also in these,

For the Poet doth not simply affirme that the gods have predestinate all men simply to live in woe & sorrow, but this he speaketh of foolish and witlesse folke, who being ordinarily lewd and naught, and therefore miserable and wretched for their wickednes, he is woont to call [...] & [...]

Another way there is besides, to turne the doubtfull and suspected sentences in poeticall writings to the better sense, which otherwise might be construed in the worse part: namely, by interpreting words to the signification wherein they are usually taken: wherein it were better to 50 exercise a yong man, than in the interpretations of obscure termes, which we call Glosses. And verily a point this is favouring of great learning, and full besides of delectation: as for example, To know how the word [...] in Poëts signifieth, is as much to say, as ill death or a bad end; for that the Macedonians use to call death [...] Likewise the Aeolians do terme victorie which is atchieved by long suffering, continuall perseverance and abiding, [...] Also among the [Page 29] Dryopians, those be named [...] who with other are called Daemones. i. Saints or Heavenlie wights. Furthermore, it is not onely expedient, but necessarie also, if we would receiue good, and not harme, by the reading of Poets; to know certeinly, how and in what signification they take the proper names of gods, as also the appellative words of good and evill things. Likewise what they meane by the vocables [...] i. the soule; or [...] i. fatall destinie. Namely, whether these termes be taken by them in one sence, or have many significations? The same is to be said of many other words besides: for example sake, this Nowne [...] somtimes signifieth an aedisice or dwelling house, as when Homer saith,

otherwhiles it betokeneth goods and substance: as in this piece of a verse. 10

Also this word [...] is taken in one place for life; as namely in these verses;

But in another for goods and riches: to wit,

Semblably the Verbe [...] you shall finde put for to fret, be discontented and ill apaied: as when the Poet writeth thus;

And yet it is used sometime, for to joy and vaunt: as namely in the same Poet;

In like sort the Verbe [...] signifieth either to moove or stirre with great violence: as in Euripides. [...]

or to sit downe and take repose: as for example, when Sophocles saith thus,

Moreover, it is verie pretie and commendable, when a man meeteth with words of divers ac­ceptions, 40 to make use thereof accordingly, and to accommodate them to the present occasions and subject matters: like as the Grammarians teach us to doe in vocables that admit sundry sen­ses; as for example,

Here the Verbe [...] signifieth [...] i. to praise: and yet now in this place (to praise) is as much to say, as to refuse and reject: Like as in our common and daily speech wee use to say, [...] i. T'is wel: or when we bid [...] Farewel it: meaning by these terms, that we like not of a thing, or will none of it, nor accept there of. And herevpon it is that some say, Proserpina is 50 called [...] which is as much to say as a goddesse blamed and to be found fault with. This diffe­rence then, and distinction in the significations of words, is principally to be obserued in mat­ters that be more serious and of greater consequence, to wit, in the names of gods. To beginne therefore with them, let us advertise and teach yoong men, that Poets in using the names of gods, sometimes meane thereby their very nature and essence: otherwhiles they attribute [Page 30] the homonymie of the same names, to the powers & vertues which the gods do give, and wher­of they be the authours. And here there presenteth himselfe unto me the Poet Archilochus, when in his praier he saith thus;

It is verie cleere and evident that he doth invocate the god Vulcan himselfe, and calleth him by his proper name. But when hee bewaileth his sisters husband, who perished and was drow­ned 10 in the sea, by which accident he wanted his due sepulture, he saith, that he could have borne this calamitie and misfortune the better,

By which word Vulcan, he meaneth fire, and not the god himselfe. Againe, when Euripides in his oth useth these words.

Certaine it is, that he speaketh of the verie gods Iupiter and Mars: But when Sophocles saith:

You must understand that he speaketh of war: Like as in these verses of Homer:

It is meant the edge of the sword and other weapons made of brasse and steele: which being so, and considering that there be many other wordes of double and divers significations, we ought to learne and beare in mind, that the very names of [...] and [...], which signifie Iupiter, 30 in one place they attribute to the god himselfe, in another to Fortune, and oftentimes to De­stiny and Fatall necessitie. For when they say

Also:

Plaine it is that they meane nothing else but the god Iupiter himselfe. But when they give 40 the Denomination, [...], to the causes whereupon all things depend, and do say in this wise:

Surely we must understand by Iove Fatall destinie: For we must not imagine that the Poët thinketh God to devise and practise any evill against men: but he giveth us to understand by the way as touching the Fatall necessitie of all humaine affaires, that Cities, Armies, and Generall Captaines are predestined to fortunate successe and victorie over their enemies, if 50 they be wise and governe their affections well. But contrariwise, if they be passionate and fall into errors and misdemeanors, growing to quarrels and debates one against another, as these did, of whom the Poët spake, it cannot be avoided but they shall commit many outrages, breed troubles and confusion, and at the last come to an unhappie end:

Now whereas the Poët Hesiodus bringeth in Prometheus, perswading his brother Epimetheus

He useth the name of Iupiter for the puissance of Fortune: for by the gifts of that god, mea­neth 10 the goods of Fortune, to wit, Riches, Mariages, States and Dignities, and generally all outward blessings: the possession where of is unprofitable unto those that know not how to use them well. Esteeming therefore no better of Epimetheus than of a lewd & foolish fellow, he sup­poseth that he ought to take heed, & beware of prosperitie whereby he was like to receive hurt and losse: yea and to come unto a mischiefe in the end. Semblably, when the same Poët saith:

He understandeth hereby the gift of the gods, a thing meere casuall and comming by For­tune: implying thus much, that those men are not be blamed and accused, who by some mis­fortune are become poore: but rather, that povertie proceeding by occasion of sloth, idle­nes, 20 ease, delicate wantonnesse, wastfull and foolish expences, is shame-woorthie and reproch­able. For Poëts and others being not acquainted with the word Fortune, which as yet was not in use, and knowing full well, that the power of this variable and inconstant cause, raunging disorderly as it did without any certaine purpose and determinate ende, was mightie, and could not possibly be avoided by any humaine wit, reason and policie, they expressed the same by the names of the gods: much like as we in our daily speech and ordinary language, are woont com­monly to give unto divers actions and affaires, to the conditions, natures and maners of sundry persons, to speeches and orations; yea and (beleeve me) to men themselves, the termes of Hea­venly and Divine. Well, a very good and expedient meane this is whereby we are to reforme and correct many sentences and verses, which seeme at the first sight to carrie with them any absurditie and incongruity, as touching Iupiter: as namely these,

Also:

Likewise:

All this we must interpret either of Fatall destinie or of Fortune, potent causes both, which neither are comprehensible within our understanding, nor yet evitable within the compasse of our power. But where we read of anything attributed unto Iupiter, which is conformable to reason, hath semblance of truth, and is beseeming his person, there we are to thinke that the said name signifieth the god himselfe: as for example,

Also: 50

Furthermore, we ought to have a diligent eie to other words, which may be turned and trans­ferred [Page 32] to many things, and are taken in divers senses by Poets. Of which sort is the name of [...].2 i. Vertue. For by reason that vertue not only causeth men to be wise, prudent, just, & ho­nest both in word and deed: but also purchaseth ordinarily unto them, honour, glorie, authori­tie and reputation in the world: therfore they give the name of Vertue unto renowme, power, and might: like as the Olive fruit, they call by the name [...], i. Olive tree, and the Beech-mast they terme also [...] aswell as the Beech tree. Our yong man then, as he readeth in a Poet,

Or thus,

Likewise,

presently ought to conceive thus much, That all is spoken of the best, most excellent, and divi­nest habitude in us, which we understand to be the verie rectitude and rule of reason and judge­ment, the heighth and perfection of our reasonable humaine nature, yea, and the disposition of the soule, accordant with it selfe. But when he readeth againe these other verses there,

As also,

let him not by set him downe, and by occasion of these words have the rich in woonder­full great admiration, as if they could anon buy vertue for money, and with their wealth have it at command: let him not thinke, I say, that it lieth in the power of Fortune, either to augment or to diminish vertue: but rather deeme thus, and make this construction, that the Poet under the name Vertue, signifieth Worship, Authoritie, Power, Prosperitie, or some such matter. For so the word [...] is sometimes taken by them in the native and proper signification, for a naughtie and wicked disposition of the minde, as when Hesiodus writeth thus, 30

But otherwile it is used for some other evill calamitie or infortunitie, as by Homer,

And much were he deceived, who should perswade himselfe that Poets take beatitude and bles­sednesse, which in Greeke is called [...], so precisely as Philosophers doe; who understand thereby, an absolute habitude, and entire possession of all good things, or rather an accompli­shed perfection of this life, holding on a prosperous course according to nature: for many times Poets abuse this word, calling a man blessed and happie, who is rich in world goods; and 40 giving the terme of felicitie and happinesse unto great power, fame and renowme. As for Ho­mer, he useth verily these termes aright and properly in this verse,

So doth Menander when he writeth thus,

Euripides maketh great disorder and confusion, when he writeth in this sort; 50

Also in another place.

[Page 33] unlesse a man, as I said before, take these termes as spoken metaphorically or by the figure [...]. i. the abusion of them, otherwise than in their proper sense. And thus much may serve as touching this point.

Now for this that remaineth behind, yoong men would be put in remembrance and admo­nished not once but oftentimes, that Poesie, having for her proper subject an argument to be expressed by imitation; howsoever she useth the ornaments & beautifull furniture of sigurative speeches, in setting out and describing those matters and actions which are presented unto her, yet neverthelesse she doth not forgo the resemblance and likelihood of truth. For that imi­tation indeed delighteth the Reader so long onely as it carieth some shew of probabilitie. And therefore that imitation which seemeth not altogether to square and depart from the rule of ve­ritie, 10 doth expresse the signes of vertues and vices both at once, entermingled one with another in actions. Such is the Poeme and composition written by Homer, which resteth not in the strange opinions and paradoxes of the Stoicks, who holde, That neither any evill at all can sort with vertue, ne yet one jot of goodnesse with vice: but he hath bidden farewell to such precise positions; namely, That a foolish and lewd person, in all his actions, when and wheresoever, doth offend and sinne: and semblably, the wise and vertuous man, at all times and in all places, can not chuse but do every thing well. These are the principles which the Stoicks schooles re­found withall. Howbeit, in the affaires of this world, and in our dayly life and conversation, as Euripdes saith,

But the Art of Poetrie setting apart the truth in deede, useth most of all varietie and sundry formes of phrases. For, the divers imitations are they, that give to fables that vertue to moove affections & passions in the readers: these are they, that worke strange events in them, even con­trarie to their opinion and expectation: upon which ensueth the greatest woonder, and asto­nishment, wherein lieth the chiefe grace, and from whence proceedeth the most delight and pleasure, whereas, contrariwise, that which is simple and uniforme, is not patheticall nor hath in it any fiction. Heereupon it is that Poets bring not in the same persons alwaies winners, al­waies 30 happy and doing wel: and that which more is, when they feigne that the gods themselves meddle in mens affaires, they describe them not without their passions, nor yet exempt from errors & faults, for feare, lest that part of their Poesie which stirreth up the affection, & holdeth in suspense and admiration the mindes of men, should become idle and dull, for want of some danger and adversarie as it were to excite and quicken it: which being so, let us bring a yoong man to the reading of Poets works, not fore-stalled and possessed before with such an opinion as touching those great and magnificall names of ancient worthies, as if they had beene wise and just men, or vertuous Princes in the highest degree of perfection, and as a man would saie, the very Canon rule, and paterne of all vertue, uprightnes and integritie: Otherwise he should receive great damage thereby, in case I say he were of this minde to approove and have in ad­miration 40 all that they did or said as singular; and to be offended at nothing that he heareth from them: neither would he allow of him, who blameth and findeth fault with them when they either do or say such things as these.

Also

[Page 34] Likewise

And in another place,

Let not a yoong man in any wise be accustomed to praise such speeches: neither let him seeke any colourable pretenses to cloke and excuse wicked and infamous acts: he must not be studi­ous and cunning in such inventions, to shew therein his subtilitie and promptnesse of wit. But rather he is to thinke thus, that Poesie is the verie imitation of maners, conditions and lives, 10 yea and of men, such as are not altogither perfect, pure and irreprehensible, but in whom pas­sions, false opinions and ignorance beare some sway, yet so, as many times by the dexteritie and goodnesse of nature they be reformed and disposed to better waies. When a yoong man then is thus prepared, and his understanding so framed, that when things are well done and said, his heart is mooved and affected therewith as by some heavenly instinct: and contrariwise not well pleased with lewd deeds or words, but highly offended thereat, certes, such instruction of his judgement will be a meanes that he shal both heare and read any Poemes without hurt and dan­ger. But he that admireth al, & applieth himselfe so, that he embraceth every thing, he I say, that commeth with a judgement devoted and enthralled to those magnificent and heroicke names, like unto those disciples who counterfeited to be crump shouldred and buncht backe like their 20 master Plato, or woulds needs stut, stammer and maffle as Aristotle did: surely such a one will take no great heed, but soone apprehend and interteine many evill things. Moreover this yoong beginner of ours ought not to be affected after a timorous and superstitious manner, as they are who being in a temple feare and dread every thing, and are readie to worship and adore whatsoever they see or heare: but boldly and confidently to pronounce and say as occasi­on serveth, This is ill done, or not decently spoken: no lesse than to give his acclamation and consent to that which is well and seemely either said or done. As for example, Achilles seeing the soldiors how they fell sicke daily in the campe, and not well appaid that the war was thus drawen out in length, especially to the hinderance of his owne honor, being a martiall man, of great prowesse and renowne in the field, assembled a counsell of war and called the 30 Greeks together, But, (as he was a man otherwise well seene in the skill of Physick) perceiving by the ninth day past, (which commonly is criticall, and doth determine of maladies one way or other by course of nature) that it was no ordinary disease, nor proceeding from usuall causes, stood up to make a speech, not framing himselfe to please and gratifie the common people, but to give counsell unto the king himselfe in this maner.

This was well and wisely said: these were modest and temperate words becomming his person: But when the prophet or soothsaier said, that he feared much the wrath and indignation of the mightiest man and soveraigne commander of al the Greeks, he answered then never a wise or so­ber 40 word; for sworne a great oth, that no man should be so hardy as to lay hand on the said prophet so long as he remained alive, he added moreover and said full unseemely,

Shewing plainly by these words, what little account he made of his prince, and how he contem­ned souereigne authoritie: nay he overpassed himselfe more yet, and proceeded farther in heat of choler, to lay hand upon his sword, yea and to draw it foorth with a full purpose to kill the king: which was done of him neither well for his owne honour, nor wisely for the good of the State. But repenting himselfe immediately

Herein againe he did well and honestly: for having not the power to extinguish and quench his choler quite, yet he delaied it well and repressed it, yea and brought it under the obeysance of reason, before it brake out into any excessive outrage, which had beene remedilesse. Sem­blably Agamemnon himselfe, for that which he did and said in the assembly of Counsell, he was [Page 35] woorthy to be skorned and laughed at. But in the matter concerning the Damosell Chryseis, he shewed more gravitie and princely Majestie, than in like case Achilles did: for he, when the faire Briseis was taken from him and led away:

But Agamemnon himselfe in person conducting her as farre as to the ship, delivering up and sending away to her owne father, the woman whom a little before he said that he loved more deerely than his owne espoused wife, did nothing unfitting himselfe or like a passionate lover. Againe, Phoenix being cursed by his father and betaken to all the hellish flends for lying with his concubine, breaketh out into these words, 10

Which verses in Homer, Aristarchus was afraid to let stand, and therefore dashed them out. But verily, they serve in that place fitly for the purpose, namely, when Phoenix instructeth Achil­les, what a violent passion anger is, and how there is no outrage but men will dare and do in the heat of choler, when they will not be guided with reason, or directed by the counsell of those that would appease them. For he bringeth in Meleager also, who was angrie with his citizens, how be it afterwards pacified: In which example, as he wisely blameth and reprooveth such pas­sious: 20 so he praiseth and commendeth as a good and expedient thing, not to be led and carried away therewith, but to resist and conquer them, and to take up betime and repent. True it is, that hitherto in these places alreadie cited, there is a manifest difference to be observed: but where there is some obscurity as touching the true sense and meaning of a sentence, we must teach a yoong man to stay himsselfe there and pause upon the point, that he may be able to di­stinguish in this manner: If Nausicaa upon the first sight of Vlisses, a meere stranger, falling into the same passion of love with him, as Calypso did, and seeking nothing but wanton pleasure, as one living daintily, and being now ripe and readie for marriage, utter foolishly these and such like words, and that before her waiting maids:

Her boldnesse and incontinencie is to be reprooved: but if by his speech and talke, she per­ceived that he was a man of wit and wise behaviour, and thereupon wished in her heart to be his wedded wife, and to dwell with him rather than with one of her owne countrie, who could skill of nothing else but to daunce or be a mariner, I cannot blame her, but thinke her praise woorthy. In like case, if when Penelope deviseth and talketh courteously with her woers, who sued unto her for marriage, and thereupon they court her againe and bestow upon her gay clothes, rich jewels and other goodly ornaments fit for a Lady, Vlisses her husband rejoice 40

If I say he joyed, in that his wife received their courtesies and tokens, and so made againe of them, surely he surpasseth Poliager the notorious bawd, playing his part in the Comedies, of whom there goeth this by-word:

But if he did it to have them by that meanes under his hand, whiles they upon hope of obtay­ning their suit, little thought of him how he watched them a shrewd turne: then his joy and confident assurance was grounded well & upon good reason. Semblably in the counting that he made of those goods which the Phaeacians had landed when they set him on shore; and having [Page 36] so done, spred saile and departed backe againe: if being thus left solitarie alone and finding him selfe forlorne, he doubted of his estate and what should become of him, and yet his mind was so set upon his goods that he feared,

His avarice were lamentable, nay it were abominable, I assure you: But if as some do thinke and say, being not sure whether he were in the Isle Ithaca or no, he supposed that the safety of his gods and money, was a certaine proofe and demonstration of the Phaeacians loyaltie and sidelitie (for never would they have transported him into a strange land but for lucre, nor when they left him and departed would have forborne his goods) he used herein no foolish argument, 10 and his providence in so doing is commendable. Some there be who finde fault with this verie landing of him upon the shore, in case the Phaeacians did it whiles he was asleepe in deed: and they say that it appeereth by a certaine Chronicle or Historie among the Tuskanes which they keepe by them, that Vlisses was given by nature to be verie drowsie; which was the cause, that to many he was not affable, and men oftentimes might hardly speake with him. Now if this was no sleepe in very truth, but that being both ashamed to send away the Phaeacians who had con­ducted him over sea, without feasting them & giving them presents and rewards for their kind­nesse: and also in feare least if they were seene there still upon the coast, whiles he entertained them so kindly, himselfe might be discovered by his enimies, he used this pretense of feigned sleepe to cover and hide the perplexitie wherein he was, or to shift off this difficultie wherein he 20 stood in this case, they allow and commend him for it. In giving therefore to yoong men such advertisements as these, we shall never suffer them to runne on still to the corruption of their manners, but rather imprint in them presently a fervent zeale and hartie desire to chuse better things, namely, if we proceed directly to praise this and to dispraise that. And this would be done especially in Tragedies, those I meane, where in fine words and affected speeches be often­times framed to cloke dishonest and villanous deeds. For that which Sophocles saith in one place, is not alwaies true:

For even himselfe is woont many times to palliat wicked conditions, yea, and naughtie acts 30 with pleasant speeches and familiar apparant reasons, which carie a probabilitie of sufficient ex­cuse. And even so plaieth Euripides his companion, who shewed himselfe upon the same stage: for see you not, how he bringeth in Phoedra to begin with her husband Theseus, First, laying all the blame on him; as if forsooth the wrongs and abuses that he offered unto her, were the cause that she was enamoured upon Hippolytus? The like audacious and bold speech he putteth in He­lenas mouth against queene Hecuba, in that Tragedie which is entituled Troades, objecting un­to her, and saying, That she was rather to be punished, for bearing such a sonne as Alexander Paris, who committed the adulterie with her. A yoong man then, ought not to accustome him. selfe to thinke any such inventions as these to be pretie, gallant and wittie, ne yet laugh at such subtile and fine devices; but to abhorre and detest as much, or rather more, wanton and filthie 40 words, than loose and dishonest deeds.

Moreover, it would be expedient, in all speeches to search the cause whereupon they do pro­ceed; after the example of Cato when he was a litle boy: For, do he would whatsoever his Ma­ster or Tutour bad; but ever and anon hee would be inquisitive and questioning with him the reason of his commandements. And yet we are not to beleeve and obey Poets, as we ought ei­ther Schoole-masters or Law-givers, unlesse the matter by them proposed have reason for the ground: and grounded then it shalbe thought upon reason, if it be good and honest: for if it be wicked, it ought to seeme foolish and vaine. But many of these men there be, who are verie sharpe and curious in searching and demanding what Hesiodus should meane in this verse,

as also what sense may be made of these verses in Homer:

but other sentences, iwis, of greater importance and danger, they admit soone, and giue credit thereto, without further enquiry & examination: as for example, at these verses they sticke not,

no more than they doe at this,

And yet such sayings as these, come nere unto us, and touch the quicke, troubling our maner and behaviour in this life, imprinting in us perverse judgements, base and unmanly opinious, unlesse we acquaint our selves to contradict ech of them in every point, after this maner. And wherefore ought he to beare an abject minde, who is crossed with adverse fortune? why rather should not he make head againe, and wrestle with her, bearing himselfe so much the more aloft, and never endure to be troden downe and depressed by her? what reason is there, that my heart should be done, for that my father was vicious and foolish, in case I be a wise and honest man my selfe? Is there greater cause that the ignorance and imperfection of my father should keepe me downe and discourage me, that I dare not looke up; than mine owne knowledge and valour make me take heart and put my selfe forth? He that will thus encounter, withstand, and not give 20 way to every speech, turning side, as it were, to every puffe of wind, but rather esteeme that sen­tence of Heraclitus to be well and truely spoken,

Such a one, I say, shalbe able to put by and repell many sayings of Poets, that are neither true nor profitable. And thus much as touching those observatious which may serve a yoong mans turne, that he may reade and heare Poets safe without any danger.

But forasmuch as it falleth out, that as in Vines many times, the grapes lie hidden among the leaves and branches, and cannot be seene by reason that they are covered and shadowed there­with: so also in poeticall verses, under fables and fictions there be covertly couched many pro­fitable 30 and holsome lessons, which a yong man cannot espie by himselfe, and therefore he mis­seth that commoditie and fruit which is to be reaped out thereof. Howbeit, we must not suffer this, nor let him turne away, and give over: he ought not (I say) to wander aside, but sticke close and fast to those matters especially, which leade unto vertue, and make any thing for the fra­ming or reforming of maners. In which regard, I shall not do amisse, if I treat also of this mat­terbriefly; making, as it were, a first draught onely, and touching summarily the principall points; leaving long discourses, by way of narration, confirmation, and a multitude of exam­ples, to those that write of purpose for more shew and ostentation. First and formost therefore, when a yoong man knoweth throughly the persons of men and women, their natures also and maners both good and bad, let him then regard and consider well the sayings and doings which 40 the Poet doth attribute aptly unto either of them. As for example, Achilles saith unto Aga­memnon these words, although he speaketh them in choler,

But Thersites reviling the selfe same Agamemnon, useth these termes;

Againe Achilles in another place hath this humble speech,

But Thersites commeth out with this proud word,

Semblably in another place, when in the review of the armie, Agamemnon passing along the bands, rebuked and taunted Diomedes, he answered not againe, nor gave him one crosse word:

But Sthenelus, of whom no man made any reckoning, was so bolde as to reply and say,

The difference which is in these personages, if it be well marked, will teach a yoong man thus much: That to be modest, temperate, void of pride, and humble, is a most civill and excel­lent vertue: and contrariwise it will advertise him to take heed of pride and overweening; to be­ware also of boasting and vaunting much of himselfe, as a detestable vice. And heere in this place, expedient it is and profitable to observe the action of Agamemnon: He passed by Sthene­lus, and would not stay to speake unto him: As for Vlysses, who found himselfe grieved, him he neglected not, but shaped him an answere: For as Homer writeth,

For, as it is a base and servile thing, and not beseeming the majestie of a Prince to answere everile one, and by way of Apologie to justifie a thing done or said; so to despise and disdaine all men, is meere pride and extreame follie. As for Diomedes, he did passing well to hold his peace during the time of the battell, when he was rebuked and reviled by the king, but after the fight was en­ded, he spake his minde freely and boldly in this wise;

Good also it is, to see the difference betweene a wise man in deed and a vaine soothsayer, who loved to be seene, and to heare himselfe speake among the multitude. For Calchas without all respect of chusing his time and a sit opportunitie, bashed not in publike place, and before all 30 the people, to challengeking Agamemnon, imputing directly unto him, and to no other, the cause of the pestilence which reigned in the campe. But Nestor, contrariwise, intending to make a motion as touching the reconciliation and pacifying of Achilles, and to speake directlie unto that point, because hee would not seeme to blame and accuse the king in the audience of the people; namely, that he had passed himselfe in choler, and done amisse, adviseth him in this maner, saying:

And after supper, he sent forth the Embassadours accordingly. This was the onely way to cor­rect a fault, and amend that was amisse: whereas the other had bene a very injurious accusation, and a contumelious reproofe to his no small disgrace. Furthermore, there would be noted and considered the diversitie that is in sundry nations, and that after this maner: The Trojans give the charge in battell to their enemies with great shouts, out-cries, and exceeding violence: whereas the Greeks

For soldiours to dread and feare their captaines and commaunders, at what time as they be rea­die to joyne battaile with the enimie, is a signe both of valour and also of obedience and milita­rie 50 Discipline. Which is the reason that Plato would inure us to be afraid of rebukes, reproofes and silthy acts, more than of any travels and dangers, Cato likewise was woont to say, That he loved those better who blushed and looked red, than the pale faced. As for promises, there is a proper worke also in them, whereby a man may discerne whether they be wise or foolish. For Dolon promiseth in this maner

Contrariwise Diomedes promiseth nothing of himselfe, onely this he saith: That he should feare the lesse, if he were sent with some other to beare him companie. Whereby you may see that Prudence, Discretion and Forecast be civile vertues beseeming the Greeks; but audacious rashnes is naught, and fit for Barbarians. The one therefore we must embrace and imitate, the other reject and cast behinde us. Moreover it were a speculation not unprofitable to marke the affections that befell unto the Trojans and to Hector at what time as he was ready to enter into combat and single fight with Ajax. Aeschylus being upon a time in place to behold the combats at the Isthmian games, it fell out so that one of the champions was hurt and wounded in the very 10 face, whereupon the people that looked on, set up a great crie and shouted aloud: See, quoth he, what use and exercise is! the Beholders crie out, but the man himselfe that is hurt, saith ne­ver a word. In like maner, when Homer the Poet saith, that Ajax was no sooner seene in his bright compleat harnish, and armed at all pieces, but the Greekes rejoiced: whereas

who would not woonder to see this difference? Thepartie himselfe who was in danger, felt his hart onely to leape, as if he had beene (I assure you) to wrestle for the best game, or to run a race for the prize: but they that saw him, trembled and shaked all their bodie over, for feare of the perill wherein their prince was, and for kind affection that they bare unto him. It is woorth the 20 noting also what ods and difference there is betweene the most resolnte or valiant Captaine, and the greatest coward: For it is said of Ther sites that

whereas Ajax as he alwaies loved Achilles, so he giveth an honorable testimonie thereof, when he speaketh unto Hector in this wise,

This is a singular commendation of Achilles particularly: but that which followeth afterwards, is aptly spoken to the praise of all in generall:

Marke, how he praiseth not himselfe, to be the man alone or the most valourous of all other, but is content to be raunged with many more as sufficient men to make their part good against him. Thus much may serve as touching the diversitie of persons, unlesse we will adde this moreover, That of Trojans we read there were many taken prisoners alive by their enimies, 40 but of the Greeks not one: as also that divers of them became humble suppliants to their eni­mies and fell downe at their feete; namely Adrastus, the sonnes of Antimachus and Lycaon: yea and Hector himselfe besought Achtlles to vouchsafe him buriall: whereas, there was not one of them that did the like: As if thus much were implied thereby, that it is the maner of Barbari­ans in fight, to make supplication, to submit, to kneele and lie prostrate before the enimie: but of Grecians, either to win the victorie by maine fight, or to die for it.

Moreover, like as in pasturage and feeding, the Bee setleth upon flowres: the goate sear­theth after greene leaves and brouseth yoong buds: the Swine searcheth for roots, and other beasts for the seed & fruit; Even so in reading Poems, one gathereth the flowre of the History: another cleaveth to the elegancie of phrase and furniture of words, as Aristophanes was wont to 50 say of Euripides,

Others there be who affect morall sentences aptly fitted to the reformation of maners. Those therefore with whom now we have to deale, and to whom we direct our speech, we are to admo­nish, [Page 40] that it were a shame and unwoorthy thing, if either he who setteth his minde upon fables should marke well the witty narrations, and singular fine inventions therein: or he that deligh­teth in eloquence should note diligently the pure and elegant phrase, the artificiall rhetorick also, as he readeth: whiles he, that would seeme to affect honor, to studie honestie, and to take Poets in hand not for delight, pleasure and pastime, but for the insight of learning, and for the treasure of knowledge, readeth and heareth carelessely and without fruits, those sentences which are penned and delivered by them to the recommendation of fortitude, temperance and ju­stice: For as concerning valor and vertue you shall finde these verses,

For to see a most wise and prudent capitaine who was in daunger to perish, and to be over­throwen together with the whole armie, not to be affraid of death, but to feare reproch and shamefull disgrace, the same no doubt will cause a yoong man to be woonderfully affectionate to vertue and prowesse. 20

For wisedome and justice these verses serve:

Such a sentence as this, will give occasion to a yoong scholler thus to reason and discourse: The Poët here hath devised, that the goddesse joyed not in a rich man, in one that was faire, well favoured and personable, or mighty in bodily strength: but in him that was prudent and just withall. And in another place where the same goddesse saith, that she will not neglect nor for­sake Vlisses and leave him destitute:

The Poët sheweth plainely; That there is nothing in us but vertue onely, that is divine and beloved of the gods: if this be true that Like will to like, and Naturally everie thing delighteth in the Semblable. Now forasmuch as it seemeth to be a great matter and rare perfections, as in truth it is no lesse, to be able to master and bridle anger: certes a greater vertue it is and a gift more singular to prevent and wisely to forecast, that we fall not into choler, nor suffer our selves to be surprised therewith: And therefore the readers of Poëts ought to be advertised in these points, not coldly but in good earnest: as namely, how Achilles, a man by nature nothing meeke, milde and patient, giveth warning unto Priamus to be quiet, and not to provoke him, in these wordes:

Who also after he had washed the corps of Hector, and wound it within Funerall clothes, bestowed the same with his owne hands in the chariot, before that Priamus his father should see it, so misused as it was,

For when a man is apt and prone to anger, as being of nature hot, rough and cholericke, to know himselfe so given, and therewith to prevent, decline and avoid all occasions of yre, and by the guidance of reason to hold of, in such sort, that even as it were against his will he shall not 10 fall into any passionato sits, is a [...] of great wisedome and singular providence. After the same manner ought he that is given [...] wine, to be armed against drunkennesse: he also that is by nature amorous, should thus withstand wanton love: Like as Agesilaus, who would not abide to be kissed of a beautifull yoong boy comming toward him: and Cyrus, who durst not so much as set his eie upon faire Panthea. Whereas contrariwise, those that be ill nourtured and badly brought up, seeke all meanes and occasions to kindle and enflame their foolish affections, mi­nistring matter thereto, as fewell unto fire: casting themselves headlong and that wilfully into those vices, whereunto they are most prone and ready to fall by nature. But Vlysses not onely brideled and repressed his ownd choler when he was chafed, but also perceiving by some words of Telemachus his sonne, that he was angrie and hatefully bent against lewd persons, he labou­red 20 to appease and mittigate his moode: he dealt with him before hand, willing and comman­ding him to be quiet, to forbeare and have patience.

For like as men use not to bridle their horses when they be running in a race, but before they begin their course; even so they that hardly can digest indignities, and upon occasion offered are quickly angrie, ought first to be praeoccupate with reason: and being thus prepared before­hand, to bring them to the combat.

Over and besides, a yoong man must not negligently passe over the bare words as hee rea­deth. And yet I speake not this, as though I would have him play upon them, as Cleanthes did, who making semblance to interpret and expound words, would otherwhiles cavill and make sport. For where as we reade in Homer,

He would have us to reade these two last words in one, by way of [...] thus, [...] as 40 if forsooth, the aire which by exhalation is elevated, and doth rise from the earth, should there­fore be called [...] Chrysippus likewise many times comes in with his bald reasons, with­out all grace: and this he doeth not in jest and meriment, but he would seeme to devise reasons subtilly; and so forceth divers words impertinently: as namely, when he wresteth these words, [...] to this sense, as if [...] should signifie one that was eager and quicke in dispu­tation or argument, surpassing others in force of eloquence. It were better for us to leave these nice subtilties of words and syllables unto Grammarians for to be scanned, and to consi­der more neerely other observations, which, as they yeeld greater profit, so they cary with them more probabilitie and likelihood of trueth: and namely to picke some good out of these verses;

Also,

For hereby he declareth evidently, that valour and fortitude is gotten by teaching; as also, he [Page 42] is of opinion, That to be milde, affable and kinde to every man, is a gracious vertue, proceeding from science and reason: whereupon he exhorteth us, not to be carelesse of our selves, but to learne good and honest things, by giving eare unto our teachers: for that cowardise, follie, and perverse incivilitie, be the defects of learning, and are meere ignorance indeed. Hereto accor­deth very well, that which the same Poet Homer saith of Iupiter and Neptune:

He declareth hereby that wisedome is a most divine and princely qualitie; wherein he pla­ceth 10 the sovereigne and highest excellencie of Iupiter, as esteeming all other good parts to ac­companie that sovereigne and heavenly vertue. We are likewise to acquaint a yoong man to heare, and that with no heavie and dull eare, but attentively and with a vigilant minde, these o­ther verses;

Also,

Likewise, 20

These sentences import thus much; That wise men will never speake untrueths: neither will they in battell behave themselves as cowards, and use deceit in fight, ne yet charge unjust impu­tations upon others without reason. Also when the Poet saith, that he through his folly suffered himselfe to be induced & perswaded to breake the truce and league, he sheweth plainly, That he thinketh a wise man will in no wise commit unrighteousnesse. The like may of a yoong man be taught, as touching continencie and chastitie, especially, if he consider well these verses.

As also these,

In these places we see, that the Poet attributeth the cause of continency and pudicitie unto wisedome. Furtherward in those exhortations whereby capitaines use to encourage their soul­diers to fight, when the Poet estsoones inferreth these and such like speeches,

Also:

By which words the Poet seemeth to ascribe fortitude vnto shamefastnesse and modestie: For that, those who are bashfull and ashamed to commit filthinesse, are able likewise not onely to overcome voluptuous pleasures; but also to undergoe all daungerous adventures. By occa­sion 50 whereof Timotheus also in his Poeme entituled Persa was mooved not unaptly to encou­rage the Greekes fight, saying thus:

AEschylus also reputeth it a point of wisedome, not to be vaine glorious nor desirous to be seene of the multitude, ne yet to be lifted up with the puffes of popular praise, when he descri­beth Amphiaraus in this wise:

For the part it is of a wise man and of good conceit, to stand upon his owne botome, that is to say, to rest in himselfe, and to thinke highly of his owne resolutions and courses as the verie best. Thus you see how all good things being reduced unto prudence, there is no kinde of ver­tue but it commeth to a man afterwards, and is acquired by learning and discipline.

Moreover, like as Bees have this propertie by nature to finde and sucke the mildest and best honie, out of the sharpest and most eager flowers; yea and from among the roughest and most prickly thornes: even so children and yoong men if they be well nourtuted and orderly inured in the reading of Poemes, will learne after a sort to draw alwaies some holesome and profitable doctrine or other, even out of those places which moove suspition of lewd and absurd sense. At the first sight, Agamemnon may seeme suspected of avarice and briberie, in that he exempted 20 from warfare, that rich [...] man in regard of the faire mare Aetha he gave unto him as a gift and gratuitie:

Howbeit, as Aristotle saith, he did very well in preferring a good mare before a man no better than he was: For I assure you a coward & hartlesse man, flowing in abundance of riches, wallow­ing in pleasures and delight, and thereby made effeminate, is not in prise comparable either to a dog or an asse. Semblaby, it may seeme that Thetis did exceeding badly to incite her sonne to pleasures, and to put him in minde of the fleshly delights of Venus: But even there, the conti­nencie of Achilles is woorthie to be considered: who notwithstanding that he had beene en­amoured of Briseis, and saw that she was returned againe unto him, yea and knew that he had not long to live, but that his end was neere; yet neither made he haste to enjoy his pleasures while he might, nor as many men use to do, bewailed the death of his friend, sitting idlely the while, doing nothing at all and neglecting the duties of his calling: but as in sorrow and griefe 40 of heart he forbare his delights and pleasures, so in action and conduct of his regiment, he she­wed himselfe a martiall and valorous man. In like manner Archilochus is not commended for this, that being to mourne and lament for the losse of his brother in law who married his sister, and was perished in the sea, he would seeme to conquer his sorow with drinking wine & making good cheere: yet neverthelesse he alleageth a cause of his doing so, which carrieth some appa­rence of reason in these words:

And if he were of this minde, and had reason to thinke, that in following his delights, meri­ments, pastimes and bankets, he could not empaire the state of his brother departed; how 50 should our present condition be the worse and our affaires go backward, by the studie and prac­tise of Philosophie, by managing the government of publike weale, by frequenting the cōmon hall and courts of pleas, by going downe to the Academie and schooles of learning, or by fol­lowing Agriculture and husbandrie?

And therefore the corrections of some poeticall verses by changing certaine words which [Page 44] practise Cleanthes and Antisthenes were woont to use are not amisse. For one of them upon a time when the Athenians in full Theatre tooke offense and made a great stirre at this verse:

quieted all the trouble presently by changing it and pronouncing another in this wise,

As for Cleanthes when he read these verses as touching riches: 10

He altered them in this manner, and wrote thus:

Semblaby Zeno reading these verses of Sophocles, 20

turned the same and wrote this againe,

But you must not understand that he meaneth here by a free man, one, that is timorous, but fearelesse, magnanimous, & whose heart is not easie to be danted. What should hinder us then, 30 but that we also by such suggestions and corrections as these may reclaime and withdraw yoong men from the woorse to the better. Whereas therefore we shall meete with these verses,

Not so, but rather thus,

For to reach into those things which a man ought not to desire, yea and to obtaine and have the same is pitifull and lamentable, and in no wise to be wished for. Likewise, when we read in Ho­mer thus,

We verily are thus to say rather,

Againe, when we meet with this verse,

[Page 45] Sent from gods above? nay rather, it is a brutish, unreasonable, yea, a wofull and lamentable thing, that a man seeing that which is better, should for all that be caried away and transported to the worse, by reason of intemperance, slouth, and effeminate softnesse of the minde. Also, if we light upon this sentence,

Not so iwis, but maners and words together are perswasive: or rather the maners by meanes of speech, like as the horse is ruled by the bit and bridle, and as the Pilot guideth the ship by the rudder or helme. For surely vertue is furnished with no instrument or meanes so gracious with men and so familiar, as speech is. 10

Moreover, where you encounter these verses;

Answer.

Nay rather thus he should have answered:

And to speake truely and more plainly, in equall balance poised he is indeed, inclining neither 20 the one way nor the other: Whereas contrariwise, he that with pleasure and beautie swaieth to and fro, is altogether left handed, inconstant, and incontinent. Read you at any time this verse?

In no wise admit thereof, but say thus:

For in trueth, feare and despaire, by the meanes of religion, ariseth in the hearts of none but of fooles, unthankfull and senselesse persons, who have in suspition and do dread that divine pow­er which is the first cause of all good things, as hurtfull unto them. Thus much concerning correction of sentences.

There is besides an amplification of that which we read, whereby a sentence may be stret­ched farther than the bare wordes import. And thus Chrysippus hath rightly taught us how to transfer and apply that which was spoken of one onely thing, to many of the like kinde, and so to make a profitable use thereof: for after this manner when Hesiodus saith,

He meaneth by oxe or cow, his dog likewise and asse, yea, and all things else that may perish. 40 Semblably, whereas Euripides saith thus,

We must understand that he meant and spake, aswell of labour, affliction and sicknesse, as of death. And verily, as physitians finding the vertue and operations of a medicine applyed and fitted to one maladie, by the knowledge thereof can skill how to accommodate the same to all others of the like nature, and use it accordingly; even so, when we meete with a sentence that is common, and whereof the profit may serve to many purposes, we ought not to oversee and neglect the manifold use thereof, and leave it as appropriate to one onely matter: but to handle 50 the same so, that it may be applyed to all of like sort: and herein we must inure and exercise yoong men, to see and know readily this communion, and with a quicke conceit to transferre that which they finde apt and proper in many, and by examples to be practised and made prompt therein, so as they be able to marke at the first hearing the semblable: To the ende that when they come to read in Menander this verse,

They may verie well thinke that in naming wealth, he meant and included Honor, authoritie and eloquence. Also, that the imputation which Vlysses charged upon Achilles, sitting idlely in the Iland Scyros, among the yoong maidens and damosels, in these words,

may be aptly said unto any loose liver and voluptuous wanton, unto a covetous and wretched miser, unto an idle luske, an untaught or ignorant lozell. As for example, in lieu of this verse in the foresaid imputation,

A man may read and not unfitly thus, 20

Or after this manner,

Either thus,

Or in this wise,

Or lastly thus,

And in one word, so well as you are descended there is no goodnes nor great thing in you wor­thy 40 thy the noble parentage. Moreover, where you happen upon these verses,

A man may say as much of glory, of outward beauty, of the rich mantels of a captaine generall, of a Bishops miter, and the sacred coronet of a priest, which we see the wickedest wretches in the world may attaine unto. Againe, whereas the words of another verse import thus much onely:

The same verily do imply also, that Intemperance, Superstition, Envie, and all other vices and maladies of the minde, bring foorth no better ofspring. Now whereas Homer saide excellent well in one place:

[Page 47] And in another,

(For by these termes and epithits, he sheweth covertly that a man deserveth blame and re­proch, who is endued with no better grace and gift than beautie) we may well and fitly apply this reprehension to such like things: namely, to plucke downe their peacocks plumes, who vaunt and glorifie themselves for matters of no moment and value: teaching yoong men thereby, that such praises as these, be no better than contumelies and reproches: As for example, when a man is saluted in this manner: O most excellent for riches, for keeping a bountifull table, for many servitours: right excellent for singulat good teames of draught oxen, caples and mules, 10 for stables of steeds and greathorses: yea or thus moreover to the rest: O surpassing orator and of woonderfull eloquence: for to speake a truth, a man is to aime at excellencie and preferrence before others in good and honest things, that in the chiefe and principall he may be the highest and formost: as also in great matters, the greatest: for the reputation that groweth from smal and base things is dishonorable, illiberall, vile, & of no worth. And verily this example last alleaged, putteth us straightwaies in minde, to consider better the reprehensions and praises which offer themselves especially in the Poemes of Homer: For certes, they give us expresly to understand one notable instruction, to wit, Not highly to esteeme the gifts either of body or of fortune. For first and formest (in those titles which they give one to another in reciprocall greetings) when they meet and shake hands, the maner is not to salute by the name of Beautifull, Rich or Strong, 20 but they use such commendations as these,

Also

Likewise,

And againe, 30

Semblably when they are disposed to revile and taunt, they twit not one another with any de­fects and imperfections of the bodie, but touch them expresly with the vices of the mind, after this maner,

And thus,

Semblably,

As also,

To conclude, Vlysses revileth not Thersites, with these termes: Thou halting and lame squire, thou bald pate thou coptank, thou that art camell backt, or crump shouldred: but rather re­procheth 50 him with his vaine babling and undiscreet language. But rather on the contrarie side, the mother of Vulcane when she speaketh unto her sonne lovingly and in great kindnesse of hart, beginneth first with his lamenesse in this maner

[Page 48] By this it may appeare plainly that Homer devideth those, who thinke it a shame to be halt, blind, or otherwise impotent. He is of opinion, that nothing is blame worthy which is not dis­honest: nor any thing dishonest and shamefull, which came not by our owne selves, but pro­ceeded from fortune. And therefore these two great and singular commodities, they are sure to finde, who be exercised in reading and hearing of Poets: the one tending to moderation and modestie: in that they learne to reproch no man odiously, bitterly and foolishly with his for­tune: the other unto magnanimitie; for that they be taught themselves to make use of their owne fortune: not to be cast downe and troubled, for any adverse calamitie that may happen; but meekly and patiently to abide the frumpes, scoffes, reprochfull termes that are given them, yea, and the laughters that arise thereupon. And verily evermore this sentence of Philemon 10 ought to be ready at hand and resound in their eares:

Howbeit, if any of these mockers, deserve to be rebuked and taunted againe, vantage would be taken of the vices and imperfections of their minde, and those are to be objected against them; for so Adrastus in a tragedie when Alcmaeon provoked with these words,

For like as they who whip and scourge garments, touch not the bodie at all: even so they that upbraid a man with infortunitie, or reproch him for some default or blemish in his parentage, doe like vaine fooles beat those things that are without, but never come neere the quicke, nor touch the soule, ne yet any thing which truly deserveth correction, blame or biting.

Over and beside, as wee shewed and taught before, how to impeach and derogate the credite of those leaud sentences and dangerous speeches, which otherwhiles wee meet with in Poeticall books namely, by opposing against the same, the good and grave sawes of worthy persons, renowmed as well for their learning as politicke government: even so, if we finde any civill, honest, and profitable matter in Poetrie, we ought (as it were) to nourish, confirme and strengthen the same, by demonstrations and testimonies Philosophicall: and evermore to re­member 30 that we ascribe the first invention of such sentences to sage Philosophers: For a just, requisite and commodious thing it is, that their credite should be in that maner fortified and authorized: namely, when the Poems which are pronounced upon the Stage in a Theatre, or sung to the harp, or taught unto children in schooles, do accord with the sententious counsels of Pythagoras, the instructions of Plato, and the precepts of Chilon: when I say the rules of Bias, shall tend to the same end and effect as do those lessons that children are to read and learne. And therefore we are to teach and instruct them thus much, not slightly and by the way, but earnestly and of purpose, that these places of Poets

Likewise;

nothing at all differ from this notable sentence, [...]. i. Know thy selfe: but carie the verie same sense and meaning.

Also these verses

Likewise,

are all one in effect with the opinions and discourses of Plato in his dialogue Gorgias, and in his books of Common weale; to wit, that more dangerous it is to doe wrong that to suffer injurie; [Page 49] and more damage commeth by giving than by receiving an abuse.

Also to this verse of Aeschylus

we must say, that they be the very same with that divulged sentence so often repeated by Epicu­rus, and so highly admired by his followers, namely, That as great paines are not durable, so long griefs are tolerable. And as the former member of this sentence was evidently expressed by Ac­schylus, so the other is a consequent thereof, and implied therein. For if a griefe that is fore and 10 vehement, endureth not; surely that which continueth, can not be violent or intolerable.

Semblably this sentence of Thespis the Poet in verse

is varied by Plato in prose, when he saith that the divine power is seated farre from pleasure and paine. As for these verses of Barchylides,

As also these of Euripides to the like sense;

As also these,

Containe they not an evident proofe and demonstration of that which the Philosophers teach as touching riches and externall goods; which without vertue profit not those at all who are possessed of them? And verily thus to reduce, and fitly to accommodate the sentences of Poets unto the precepts and principles delivered by Philosophers, will soone dissever Poetrie from fa­bles, 40 and plucke from it the masque wherewith it is disguised; it will give, I say, unto them an es­fectuall power, that being profitably spoken, they may be thought serious and perswasive: yea, and besides, will make an overture and way unto the minde of a yoong ladde, that it may encline the rather to Philosophicall reasons and discourses: namely, when he having got­ten some smatch and taste alreadie thereof, and being not voide altogether of hearing good things, he shall not come altogether without judgement; replenished onely with foolish con­ceits and opinions which he hath evermore heard from his mothers and nurses mouth, yea, and otherwhiles (beleeve me) from his father, tutour and schoole-master: who will not sticke in his hearing to repute for blessed and happie, yea, and with great reverence to give the worship to those who are rich: but as for death, paine and labour, to stand in feare and horror thereof: and 50 contrariwise, to make no reckoning and account of vertue, but to despise the same, and thinke it as good as nothing, without earthly riches and authoritie. Certes, when yoong men shal come thus rawly and untrained, to heare the divisions, reasons & arguments of Philosophers, flat con­trary to such opinions, they will at first be much astonied, troubled & disquieted in their minds: and no more able to admit of the same, and to reduce such doctrine, than they, who having a long time bene pent in, and kept in darke, can abide the glittering raies of the Sun shine: unlesse they were acquainted before by little & little with some false and bastard light, not altogether so [Page 50] lively and cleere, as it: And even so, I say, yoong men must be accustomed beforehand, yea, and from the very first day, to the light of the trueth, entermingled somewhat with fables a­mong, that they may the better endure the full light and sight of the cleere trueth, without any paine and offence at all. For when they have either heard or read before in Poemes these sen­tences:

Also, 10

Likewise,

Lastly,

Lesse troubled they are & grieved in spirit, when they shall heare in the Philosophers schooles, That we are to make no account of death as a thing touching us: That the Riches of nature are definite & limited: That felicitie and soveraigne happines of man, lieth not in great summes of money, ne yet in the pride of managing State affaires, nor in dignities and great authority, but in a quiet life free from paine and sorrow: in moderating all passions, and in a disposition of the minde kept within the compasse of Nature. To conclude, in regard hereof, as also for other reasons before alleaged, A yoong man had neede to be well guided and directed in reading of Poets, to the end that he may be sent to the studie of Philosophie not forestalled with sinister sur­mises; but rather sufficiently instructed before and prepared, yea and made friendly and fami­liar thereto by the meanes of Poetrie. 30

OF HEARING. 20

THis little treatise (my friend Nicander) which being gathered and compiled by starts, as my leysure would serve As touching the maner of Hearing, I lately put in writing, and send here unto you, To the end that you being delivered now from the subjection of Maisters, who were woont to command you, and having put on your virile robe and growen to mans estate, may knowhow to heare him that giveth you good counsell. For this licentious easement and deli­verie from all government, which some yoong men for desault of 30 good nourture and education do untruely terme Libertie, fetteth over them more rough Lords and harder Masters by farre, than were those teachers, tutors and governours, under whom they were awed in their childhood, to wit, their owne irregular lusts and unordinate appetites, which now be (as it were) dischained & let loose. For, like as a woman (to use the words of Herodot us) no sooner doth of her smocke or inner vesture, but therewithall she casteth off all shamefastnes and modestie; even so, some yoong men there be, who together with the garments of infancie and childhood, lay by all grace, shame and feare: so that being once divested of that habit and apparell which became them so well, and gave them a modest and sober countenance, they are straightwaies full of stubbornesse and disobedience. As for your selfe, who have oftentimes heard, that To follow God, and to obey Reason is all one, you 40 ought to thinke, that the wiser sort and such as have wit indeed, repute not the passage and change from chidhood to mans estate, an absolute deliverance and freedome from commande­ment and subjection, but an exchange onely of the commander: for that their life in steed ei­ther of a mercenarie hireling or some master bought with a peece of money, who was woont to governe it in their nonage and minoritie, taketh then a divine and heavenly guide to conduct it, even Reason: unto which they that yeeld themselves obeisant, are to be reputed onely free and at libertie. For they alone live as they would, who have learned to will that which they should: whereas if our actions and affections both be disordinate and not ruled by reason, the libertie of our free-will is small, slender and feeble, yea and intermingled for the most part with much repentance. Like as therefore among new Burgovises (who lately are enrolled Free-De­nisens 50 to enjoy the Franchises and priviledges of some citie) they that were meere aliens before and strangers new come from far and remote parts, finde themselves grieved at the first with many things that are done, yea and complaine thereof: but such as had beene inhabitants there sometime before they were made citizens, who partly by education were inured, and partly by custome and conversing, familiarly acquainted with the lawes and customes of the place, never thinke much, but can brooke well ynough, and undergo with patience all charges and impositi­ons laid upon them; So it behooveth that a yoong man should along time have beene bred up [Page 52] and (as it were) halfe noursed in Philosophie, accustomed (I say) he ought to have beene from the begining with intermingling all that he learneth or heareth in his tender yeeres, with Phi­losophicall reasons, that being thus made tractable, gentle and familiar before hand, he might now betake himselfe wholy and in good earnest to Philosophie: which alone is able to array and adorne yoong men with those robes and ornaments, of reason which are manlike indeed and everie way perfect. Moreover, I suppose you will be well pleased and content, to give eare unto that which Theophrastus hath written of hearing; which of all the five senses given us by nature, presenteth both the most and also the greatest passions unto the minde. For there is no object of the eye, nothing that we taste or touch that causeth such exstasies, so violent troubles or sudden frights, as those which enter and pearce into the soule, by the meanes of some noises, 10 sounds and voices, incident to our hearing. And albeit this sense lie thus open and exposed to passions, yet is it more fit to admit reason than such affections: for many places there be and parts of the bodie that make way and give entrance unto vices for to passe unto the soule: but the only handle (as I may so say) wherewith vertue may take holde of yong men are their eares: provided alwaies, that they were kept cleane and near at the first from all flatterie, and defended against corrupt and leawd speeches, that they touch them not.

Good reason therefore had Xenocrates, to give order that children should have certaine au­rielets or bolsters devised to hang about their eares for their defence, rather than sencers and sword-plaiers: for that these are in danger onely to have their eares spoiled with knocks or cuts by weapons: but the other, to have their maners corrupted and marred with naughtie speeches. 20 Neither was it any part of Xenocrates his meaning, to deprive them altogether of hearing, and to commend deafenesse: but to admonish and exhort them, so long to forbeare the hearing of evill words, and to take heed, untill other good sayings, enterteined and nourished there, in long continuance of time by Philosophie, had seized the place, and were well setled in that part which is most easie to be mooved and perswaded by speech: where being once lodged, they might as good sentinels and guards preserve and defend the same. Bias verily, that auncient Sage, being commanded by king Amasis, to send ento him the best and woorst piece of a beast killed for sacrifice, plucked foorth the tongue onely, and sent it him; giving him thus much thereby to understand, That speech is the cause both of most good, and also of greatest harme. Many there be also, who ordinarily when they kisse little children, both touch their eares withall, 30 and also bid them do the like: insinuating thus much covertly, by way of mirth and sport, That they are to love those who profit them and doe them good by their eares. For this is certeine and evident, that a yoong man deprived and debarred of hearing, being able to taste and con­ceive reason, will not onely become barren altogether of fruit, and put out not so much as any buds and flowers at all, which may give some hope of vertue: but also contrariwise, will soone turne to vice, and send foorth of his corrupt minde many wilde and savage shoots, like as a ground neglected and untilled, beareth nothing but briers, brambles and hurtfull weeds. For the motions and inclinations unto pleasures, and the sinister conceits and suspitions of paines and travels (which are no strangers to us iwis, entring in directly from without foorth by them­selves, or els let in by evill suggestions, but inbred with us, and the naturall sources of infinite 40 vices and maladies) if a man suffer to run on end with the raines at large, whither by nature they would go, and not cut them off by sage remonstrances, or divert them another way, and thereby reforme the default of nature; surely there were not upon the face of the earth any wilde beast, but would be more tame and gentle than man. Forasmuch as therefore the sence of hearing bringeth unto yoong men so great profit, and no lesse perill with it, I suppose it were well done, if a man would eftsoones both devise with himselfe, and also discourse with others, as touching the order and maner of hearing. Forasmuch as we doe see most men in this point to offend and erre, in that they exercise themselves in speaking before they were used to heare: supposing that good speech requireth akinde of discipline, meditation and practise ere it be learned: as for hearing, though men use it without any art, it makes no matter how, yet they may receive 50 profit thereby as they thinke. And verily, albeit at Tennis play they that practise the feat there­of, learne to take the ball as it commeth, and also to strike and send it from them againe, both at once. Yet in the use of speech it is otherwise: for to receive it well, goeth before the utterance and deliverie thereof: like as conception and retention of the seed, doeth praeceed birth of the infant. It is said, That the egges laid by fowles, called Wind-egges, as they proceed of imper­fect and false conceptions, so they are the rudiments and beginnings of such fruits, as never will quicken and have life; even so, The speeches that yoong men let fall, such I meane, as ne­ver [Page 53] knew how to heare, nor were wont to receive profit by hearing, are nothing els indeed but very winde: and as the Poet saith,

Certes if they would powre out any liquor out of one vessell into another, they are wont to encline and turne downe the mouth of the one, so, as the said liquor may passe into the recepto­rie without shedding any part thereof, least in stead of an infusion indeed there be an effusion onely and spilling of the same: and yet thesemen cannot learne to be attentive and give good care unto others, so as nothing do escape them, which is well and profitably delivered. But here is the greatest folly and most ridiculous, that if they meet with one, who can relate the order of 10 a feast or great dinner, discourse from point to point of a solemne shew or pompe, tella tale of some dreame, or make report of a quarrell and brablement betweene him and another, they har­ken with great silence, bid him say on, and will not misse every circumstance: Let another man draw them apart, to teach them some good and profitable lesson, to exhort them to their dutie, to admonish and tell them of a fault, to reproove them wherein they did amisse, or to appease their moode when they be in choler, they can not abide and indure him: for either the will set in hand to argue and refute him by arguments contending and contesting against that which hath beene said, (if they be able so to doe:) or if they finde themselves too weake, they slinke away, and run thither, where they may heare some other vaine and foolish discourses, desirous to fill their eares (like naughtie and rotten vessels) with any thing rather then that, which is good and 20 necessarie. They that would keepe and order horses well, teach them to have a good mouth, to reine light, and to obey the bit: even so, they that bring up children as they ought, make them obsequent and obeisant to reason, by teaching them to heare much and speake little. For Spin­tharus praising Epaminondas upon a time, gave out thus much of him, That he could hardly meet with another man who knew more than hee, and spake lesse. And it is commonly said, that nature herselfe hath given to each us but one tongue and two eares, because we ought to heare more than we speake. Now as Silence and Taciturnitie is everie where and at all times a singular and sure ornament of a yoong man; so especially, if when hee heareth another man to speake he interrupt and trouble him not, nor baie and barke (as it were) at every worde: but although he do not very well like of his speech, yet hath patience and forbeareth, giving 30 him leave to make an end: and when he hath finished his speech, setteth not upon him present­ly, nor beginneth out of hand to confute him, but suffereth him to pause a while, and as Aeschi­nes saith, giveth him some time to breath and bethinke himselfe to see, if haply he thinke it good to adde any more to that which hath beene delivered already, or change somewhat, or els retract and unsay something: Whereas, they that by and by cut a man off, with contradictions, and neither heare, nor are well heard themselves, but are ever replying upon other, whiles they speake, observe no decorum nor grace at all, but shew a very undecent and unseemely behavior. But he that is accustomed to heare patiently, and with a modest and sober countenance, better conceiveth and reteineth the good things uttered, and withall hath more leasure to marke, ob­serve and discerne that which is either unprofitable or false: He sheweth himselfe besides, to be a 40 lover of the trueth, and is not taken for a litigious quareller, a rash wrangler, or abitterbrawler. And therefore, some there be, who not unaptly say, That we ought no lesse, but rather more, to void out of the minds of yoong men that presumption and foolish opinion which they have of their owne selves, than to rid and exclude the winde and aire out of leather bagges or bladders wherewith they are puft and blowen up, if we meane to infuse and put any good thing into them: for otherwise, if they be still full of that swelling winde of arrogancie and overweening of themselves, they will never receive and admit any goodnesse.

Moreover, envie accompanied with a maligne eie and ill will is good in no action whatso­ever where it is present: but as it is an impediment and hinderance to all honest causes; so it is the woorst counsellor and assistant that he can have who would be an auditor, making all those 50 things that be profitable and for his benefit, to seeme odious, unpleasant, harsh to the eare and hardly admitted; for that the nature of envious persons is, to take more pleasure in any thing else than in that which is well spoken. And verily, whosoever repineth and is vexed at the heart, to see others rich, beautifull or in authoritie, is onely envious: for greeved he is at the welfare of others: but he that taketh discontentment in hearing a wise and sententious speech, is offen­ded with the good of his owne selfe: for, like as the light is a benefit to them that see; even so is speech unto the hearers if they will embrace and entertaine the same: As for those kinds of en­vie [Page 54] which arise in regard of other things, there be some naughtie passions and vitious conditi­ons of the minde besides, that breed and ingender them: but that maner of envie which is con­ceived against them that speake excellently well, springeth from a certeine & important desire of vaine glorie, and unjust ambition, which will not suffer him that is so indisposed to give eare and attend unto the words spoken, but troubleth, disquieteth, and distracteth the minde and un­derstanding: both to consider at one instant his owne state and sufficiencie, whether it be infe­rior to the conceit and eloquence of the speaker: and also to regard and looke upon the coun­tenance of other hearers, whether they take contentment and are in admiration of him that maketh the speech: yea and withall, is happly he be praifed, the same minde is woonderfully galled and amazed, angrie and ready to fall out with all that be present, in case they approove 10 his speech with applanse. Herewith it letteth slip also and rejecteth the matter and good say­ings that were delivered already; for that the remembrance thereof is unsaverie and unplea­sant: and still he is disquieted and wotteth not what to do, hearing out the rest with feare and trembling, list haply they should be better than the former, never so desirous that the speakers should hasten to an end and have done, as when they discourse and speake best. Now when the Sermon is ended, and the auditorie dissolved: what doth this envious spirit then? not ruminate, be you sure, nor consider of the reason and matter delivered; but he stirreth the affections and opinions striaghtwaies, and gathereth voice (as it were in a scrutinie) of the audience. If he meet with any that give out good words to the praise of the Preacher, them hee avoideth and fleeth from, as if he were in a furious fit of madnesse: hapneth he upon such as finde fault, and be 20 ready to misconstrue and prevert the words that were spoken, to the woorst sense: these are they whom hee loveth a life, to them he runneth, and with them hee sorteth and keepeth companie: But say that he finde none of that disposition, so as he can not wrest any words to a wrong con­struction, then he falleth to make comparisons, and to set against him, others yoonger than he; who of the same theame have discoursed better, with more plausible utterance and greater sorce of eloquence: he never ceaseth nor giveth over corrupting, misinterpreting, and disgracing the whole speech, untill he have made the same altogether unprofitable and without any edificat at all to his owne selfe. It behooveth therefore, that he who desireth to heare, take truce (for the time) with ambition; to the end that hee may give eare with patience and mildnesse unto him that maketh an oration or sermon, and cary himselfe no otherwise than if he were admitted to 30 some sacred and festival banket, or an invited guest to the first frmits of a solemne sacrifice; prai­sing his eloquence when he hath spoken well and sufficiently to the piint in any matter, accep­ting favourably, and in best part, his good will, to deliver and communicate to others, such things as he knew, and to perswade his hearers with those reasons and motives which had indu­ced and perswade himselfe. Neither must our auditours make this reckoning and conclusion, That whatsoever hath beene singularly well delivered by the speaker, ought to be ascribed to chance and fortune, as if he hada let fall his words at aventuer: but impute the same to his dili­gence, labour and art: yea, and he ought to imitate the same with a kinde of zeale and admira­tion. But whereas he hath faulted and done amisse, it is the part of an hearer to bend his minde, and consider well and circumspectly, what might the cause and occision be of such errour: For 40 like as (accoding to Xenophon) good houshoulders know how to make profit and use, aswell of their enemies as their friends; even so they that be vigilant and attentive hearers, take good, not onely by them that speake well, but by those also that misse and faile of their purpose: for bar­ren, triviall and stale invention; improper, vaine and unsignificant words; forced and follish fi­gures; abrupt, fond, and unseemly breakings foorth with joy to some praise, and such like imper­tinences or defects, which often times besall unto them that speake in publike place; are sooner espied by us that are hearers, than observed by themselves who are the speakers. And therefore we are to transferre the inquisition and correction of any such fault, from them to our selves, by examining whether we also may not fault like wise, before we be aware? For there is nothing in the world more easie, than for a man to blame and reprehend his neighbour: but such a repre­hension 50 verily is vaine and unprofitable, unlesse it have a reference to correct and amend the like errours in himselfe. In which regard every one ought to be ready in this case, according to the advertisement of Plato, to say into himselfe, Am not I also such an one? or doe not I the semblable otherwhiles:? For even as we see our owne eies shining within the ball or apple or our neighbours eie, so we ought by the forme & maner of other mens orations to take the patterne and representation of our owne; to the end that we be not too forward and bolde in despising others, but may more carefully take heed to our selves when wee likewise come to speake. To [Page 55] this purpose also it would dec very well, to make a kinde of conference and comparison in this maner; Namely, to retire our selves apart when we have heard one make an oration, and to take in hand some points which wee thinke had not beene well and sufficiently handled, and then to assay either to supply that which was defective in some, or to correct what was amisse in others; or els to varie the same matter in other wordes, or at leastwise to discourse altogether thereof, with new reasons and arguments; like as Plato himselfe did upon the oration of Lysias. For, I assure you, no hard matter it is, but very easie to contradict the oration and reason by another pronounced, mary to set a better by it, that is a piece of worke right hard and difficult. Much like, as when a certaine Lacedaemonian heard that Phlip king of Macedon had demolished and rased the city Olynthus, Hath he so? quoth he, But is not able to set up such another. 10 Now when as we shall see that intreating of the same subject and argument, there is no great differenece betweene our owne doings and other mens before us, and that we have not farre ex­celled them, we shall be reclaimed much from the contempt of others, and quickly represse and stay our owne presumptuous pride and selfe love, seeing it thus checked by this triall and com­parison. And verily, to admire other mens doings, as it is a thing adverse and opposite to de­spising, so it is a signe of a milder nature, and more enclined to indifferencie and equitie. But even herein also there would be no lesse heed taken (if not more) than in the contempt before­said: for as they which are so presumptious, bolde, and given so much to dispraise and despise others, receive lesse good and smaller profit by hearing; to the simple and harmelesse sort, ad­dicted overmuch to others, and having them in admiration, are more subject to take harme and 20 hurt thereby: verifying this sentence of Heraclîtus,

As for the praises therefore, of him that speaketh, we ought favorablie and of course without great affectation to passe them out of our mouthes: in giving credite unto their reasons and ar­guments we are to be more warie and circumspect: and as touching the phrase, utterance, and action of those that exercise to make speeches, we must both see and heare the same with a sin­gle hart and a kind affection: As for the utilite and truth of those matters which are delivered, we should examine and weigh the same exactly & with more severitie of judgement. Thus we who be hearens shall avoid the suspitions of evill will and harted, & they againe that are speakers 30 shall do usno harme. For oftentimes it falleth out that upon a speciall faustine and good liking unto those that preach unto us, we take lesse heed to our selves and by our credulitie admit & embrace from their lips many false & erroneous opinions. The Lacedaemonian rulers & Lords of the Counsel of estate, upon a time liking wel of the good advise and opinion of a person who was an ill liver, caused the same to be delivered openly by another of approoved life and good reputation: wherein they did very wisely & as prudent politicians, to accustome the people for to affect the behavior and honest cariage of their counsellors, rather than to respect their words onely. But in Philosophie it is otherwise: For we must lay aside the reputation of the man who hath in publike place spoken his minde: and examine the matter apart by it selfe: For that, like as in warre (we say) there be many false ahrmes: so also in an auditorie there passe as many 40 vanities: The goodly grey beard and hoafie hard of the speaker, his solemne gesture and com­posing of his countenance, his grave eie browes, his glorious words in behalfe of himselfe: but above all, the acclamations, the applause and clapping of hands, the leaping and shouting of the standersby and those that are present in place, are enough otherwhiles to trouble and astonish the spirits of a yoong hearer, who is not well acquainted with such matters, and carie him away perforce as it were with a streame: Over and besides, there is in the very style and speech it lelfe a secret power able to beguile and deceive a yoong novice; namely, if it runne round away, smooth and pleasant, and if withallthere be a certeine affected gravitie, and artifi­ciall port and loftinesse, to set out and grace the matter. And even as they that play upon the pipe, be it corner, recorder of fife, fault many times in musioke, and are not perceived by the 50 hearers; so a brave and elegant tongue, a copious and gallant oration, dazeleth the wits of the hearer, so a she can not judge fourdly of the matter in hand. Melanthus being demaunded upon a time, what he thought of a Tragaedie of Diogenes: Prould not see it (quoth he) for so many words, where with it was choaked up But the Orations & declamations for the most part of these Sophisters, who make shew of their eloquence, not onely have their sentences covered (as it were) with vailses and curtaines of words, but that which more is, they themselves do dulce their voice by the meanes of (I wot not what) devised notes, soft sounds, exquisite and musicall [Page 56] accents in their pronuntiation, so as they ravish the wits of the hearers, and transport them be­side themselves: leading and carying them which way they list: and thus for a certeine little vaine pleasure that they give, receive againe applause and glorie much more vaine: Insomuch, as that befalleth properly unto them which by report Dionysius answered upon a time: who see­med to promise unto a famous minstrell for his oxcellent play in an open Theatre, to reward him with great gifts, gave him in the end just nothing, but said he had recompensed him suffi­ciently already: For looke (quoth he) how much pleasure I have received from thee by thy song and minstrelsy, so much contentment and joy thou hast had from me by hoping for some great reward. And verily such recompense as this have those Sophisters and great Orators at their hearers hands: For admired they are so long as they sit in their chaire, and give delight unto 10 their auditorie: No sooner is their speech ended, but gone is the pleasure of the one, and the glorie of the other. Thus the Auditours spend their time, and the speakers employ their whole life in vaine. For this cause, it behooveth a yoong hearer to sequester and set aside the ranke su­perfluitie of words and to seeke after the fruit it selfe: and heerein not to imitate women, that plait and make garlands of flowres, but to follow the Bees: For those women laying for, and choosing faire flowres and odoriferous herbes, twist, plat and compose them so, as they make thereof a peece of worke (I must needs say) pleasant to the senses; but fruitlesse altogether, and not lasting above one day: whereas the Bees flying oftentimes over & over the medowes full of Violets, Roses and Crowtoes, light at length upon Thyme, an herbe of a most strong sent, and quicke taste and there settle, 20

and when they have gathered from them some profitable juice or liquor to serve their turne, they flie away unto their proper worke and businesse. Semblably ought an auditour who is stu­dious of skill and knowledge, and hath his minde and understanding free from passions, to let passe, affected, flourishing and superfluous words, yea, and such matters also as be fit for the Stage and Theatre, reputing them to be food meet for drone Bees (I meane Sophisters) and nothing good for honie: and rather with diligence and attentive heed to sound the very depth and profound intention of the speaker, for or draw that which is good & prositable: remēbring eftsoons, that he is not come thither as to a Theatre, either to see sports & pastimes, or to heare 30 musiscke and Pocticall fables, but into a schoole & auditorie, for to learne how to amend and re­forme his life by the rule of reason. And therefore he must enter into his wone heart and exa­mine himselfe when he is alone, how he was mooved and affected with the Lecture of Sermon that he heard; consider (I say) and reason he ought with himselfe whether he find any turbu­lent passions of his minde thereby dulced and appeased; whether any griefe or heavinesse that trouble him be mitigated and asswaged; whether his courage 2nd confidence of heart be more resolute and better confirmed; and in one word, whether he feele any instinct unto vertue and honestie, to be more kindled and enflamed. When we rise out of the Barbars chaire, we thinke it meete presently to consult with a mirrour or looking glasse; we stroke our head to see whe­ther 40 he hath polled and notted it well; we consider and peruse our beard and every haire whether we have the right cut, & be trimmed as we ought: a shame it were then, to depart from a schole or a lecture, and not immediately to retire apart and view our minde well, whether it have laide away any foolish thought that troubled it: whether it be eased of superfluous and wandring thoughts, that clogged it: and be thereby more lightsome and pleasant. For neither a Baine and Striph, as Ariston saith nor a sermon doth any good, if the one do not scoure the skin, and the other clense the heart.

A yoong man therefore is to take joy and delight if he have made profit by a lecture, or be better edified by hearing a sermon. And yet I write not this, as if this pleasure should be the finall end that he proposeth to himselfe when he goeth to such a lecture or sermon, neither 50 would I have him thinke that he should depart out of the Philosophers schoole, with a merie note singing jocundly, or with a fresh and cheerefull countenance: ne yet to use meanes to be perfumed with sweete odors and ointments, whereas he hath more need of Embracations, Fo­mentations and Cataplasmes: but to take it well and be thankfull, if haply by some sharpe words and cutting speeches, any man hath cleansed and purified his heart full of cloudie mists and pal­pable darkenes, like as men drive Bee-hives and rid away Bees with smoke. For albeit, he that preacheth unto others ought not to be altogether earelesse and negligent in his stile, but that it may carrie with it some pleasure, delectation and grace, aswel as probabilitie and reason: yet a [Page 57] yoong man when he commeth to heare should not stand so much thereupon, but have least re­gard thereto, especially at the first: marrie afterwards (I will not say) but he may well ynough have an eie unto it also. For like as those that drinke, after they have once quenched their thirst, engraven or imprinted upon them: even so, when a yong student or auditor is well replenished and furnished with doctrine, after he hath breathed and paused a while, may be permitted to consider farther of the speech, namely, what elegant and copious phrases it hath. As for him, who at the verie beginning attendeth not nor cleaveth unto the matter and substance, but hun­teth after the language onely, desiring that it should be pure Atticke, fine and smooth: I can liken such a one to him, who being empoisoned will not drinke any Antidore or counterpoison, 10 unlesse the pot or cup wherein it is, be made of the Colian earth in Aitica: or who in the cold of winter will not weare a garment, except it were made of the wooll that came from the Attike sheepes backe; but had rather sit still idle doing nothing and stirring not, with some thin man­tell and overworne gaberdine cast over him, such as be the orations of Lystas his penning. The errours committed in this kinde, have beene the cause why there is found so little wit and un­derstanding, and contrariwise so much tongue and bibble-babble, such vaine chattring about words in yoong men throughout the Schooles: who never observe the life, the deeds, the carri­age and demeanor in State government of a Philosopher, but give all praise and commenda­tion to his fine termes and elegant words, onely setting out his eloquence, action and readie deliverie of his oration, but will not in any wise learne or enquire whether the matter so uttered 20 be profitable or unprofitable, necessarie or vaine and superfluous.

Next to these precepts, how we should heare Philosopher to discourse at large and with a continued speech, there followeth in good consequence a rule and advertisement as touching short questions and problemes. A man that commeth as a bidden guest unto a great supper, ought to be content with that which is set before him upon the table, and neither to call for any viands else, nor to finde fault with those that are present: He also that is invited to a Philosophi­call feast or banket (as I may say) of discourses, in case they be matters and questions certaine and chosen long before for to be handled, ought to do nothing else but heare with patience and silence him that speaketh: for they that distract and hale him away to other theames, interpo­sing interrogations and demaunds, or otherwise moove doubts or make oppositions as he spea­keth, 30 are troublesome and unportunate hearers, such as be unsociable and accord not with an auditorie; who besides that they receive no profit themselves, disturbe doth the speaker and the speech also. But in case the partie that standeth ad oppositum, doe of himselfe will and pray his auditors to aske him questions and to propose what they will, then they ought to propound such demaunds as be either necessarie or profitable. Vlisses verily in Homer was mocked by the wooers of his wife, because

For it was reputed a signe of magnanimity to demaund, aswel as to give things of great price and value. Much more then might a man deride and laugh at the auditor, who will moove un­to 40 a Master or Doctour of the Chaire, trifling, frivolous and fruitlesse questions, as other­whiles some of these yoong men do: who taking pleasure to vaunt themselves, and to shew what great schollers they are in Logicke or the Mathematikes, are woont to pur foorth questions as touching the sections of things indefinite: also, what be litterall motions or Diametricall? Vn­to whom a man may verie well answere as Philotimus the Phisitian did unto one that had a sup­puration in his chist, and by reason of an inward ulcer of his lungs was in a consumption, who comming to him for counsell, desired that he would give him a medicine for a little whit-flow growing about the roote of his naile: but Philotimus perceiving by his colour and shortnes of winde in what case he was; My good friend (quoth he) you have no such weed of a cure for your whit-flow, you may hold your peace well enough at this time for any danger there: Even so, it 50 may be said unto one of these yoong men; There is no time now to thinke or dispute upon such questions, but rather by what meanes you may be freed from presumptuous overweening of your selfe, from pride and arrogance, from wanton love and foolish toies: that you may be setled in a sound state of life, devoide of vanitie. Moreover, this yoong man is to have a good cie and ragard unto the sufficiencie of the speaker, whether it be by naturall inclination, or got­ten by experience and practise, and accordingly to frame and direct his questions in those points wherein he is most excellent: and in no wise to force him who is well read and stu­died [Page 58] in Morall Philosophie, to answer unto Physical or Mathematicall questions: or him that is better seene in Natural Philosophy to draw unto Logick, for to give his judgment of Hypothe­tical propositions & to resolve them: or to move the knots & make solution of false Syllogisms, Elenches sophisticall and such fallacies. For like as one that would goe about to cleave wood with a key, or unlocke a doore with an axe, seemeth not so much to doe hurt unto those instru­ments, as to deprive himselfe of the proper use and commoditie as well of the one as the other; Even so, they that require of a Speaker that which he is not apt unto by nature, or wherein he is not well practised, & will not reape, gather & take that which willingly commeth from him, and wherewith he is able to furnish them, are not only hurt therein, but incurre the name and blame of a pievish, froward and malicious nature. Furthermore this heed would be taken, not to over­lay 10 him with many questions, nor oftentimes to urge him therewith. For this bewraieth one, that in some sort loveth to heare himselfe speake and would be seene: whereas, when another doth propose a question to give attentive eare, and that with mildnes and patience, is a signe of a studious person, and one that knoweth well how to behave himselfe in companie, and can abide that others should learne aswell as he: unlesse perhaps some private and particular occur­rent do urge the contrarie, or some passion do hinder, which had neede to be staied and repres­sed, or else some maladie and imperfection which requireth remedie. For peradventure as He­raclitus saith, it were not good for one to hide and conceale his owne ignorance, but to let it ap­peere and be knowen, and so to cure it. But say, that some fit of choler, some assault of scrupu­lous superstition, or some violent quarell and jarre with one houshold and kinsfolke, or some 20 furious passion proceeding from wanton lust,

trouble our understanding, and put it out of tune, we ought not for the avoiding of a reproofe, to flie for refuge to other matters, and interrupt the discourse begun, but be desirous to heare of such things, even in open places of exercises; and after the exercise or lecture done, to take the Philosophers or Readers aside, and conferre with them, to be further enformed: not as ma­ny doe, who are well enough contented to heare Philosophers speake of others, and have them theresore in great admiration: but if it chance that a Philosopher leave other men, and turne his speech to them apart, to tell them freely and boldly what he thinketh, admonishing and put­ting 30 them in minde of such things as do concerne them, then they are in a chafe, then they say he speakes besides the text and more then needs. For of this opinion are these men, That wee are to heare Philosophers in Schooles for pastime, as plaiers of Tragedies in a Theatre upon the Stage: As for other matters out of the Schoole, they holde them no better men than them­selves: and to say a trueth, good reason have they so to deeme of Sophisters, who are no sooner out of their chaires, or come downe from off the pulpit, and when their books, and pettie intro­ductions are laid out of their hands, but in other serious actions and parts of this life to be dis­coursed of, a man shall finde them as raw as other, and nothing better skilled than the vulgar sort. But to come unto those Philosophers indeed, who worthily are so to be called and estee­med, ignorant are such persons above rehearsed, that their words (be they spoken in earnest or 40 in game) their becks, their nods, their countenance, whether it be composed to smiling or to frowning, but principally their words directed privately to every one a part, be all significant, and cary some fruit commodious to those that with patience will give them leave to speake, and are willing and used to hearken unto them.

As concerning the praises which we are to attribute unto them for their eloquence and well speaking, there would in this dutie some wise caution & meane be used: for that in this case, nei­ther overmuch nor too little is commendable & honest. And verily that scholar, who seemeth not to be moved or touched with any thing that he heareth, is a heavie and unsupportable audi­tour, full of a secret presumptuous opinion of himselfe, conceited inwardly of his owne suffici­encie, of an inbred selfe love and aptnesse to speake much of his owne doings, shewing evident­ly 50 that he thinketh he can speake better than that which hath beene delivered: In regard where­of, he never stirs brow any way decently, he uttereth not a word to testific that he heareth wil­lingly and with contentment: but by a certaine forced silence, affected gravitie, and counter­feit countenance, would purchase and winne unto himselfe the reputation of a staied man, of a profound and deepe clerke: and is as sparie of his praises, as of his purse and money in it, imagi­ning that they bid him losse, who would have him part with any one jot thereof, as if he robbed himselfe of so much as he imparted to another. For many therebe who misconster & interpret [Page 59] in ill sense one sentence of Pythagor as, when he saith, That he had gotten this fruit by the studie of Philosophie, namely, to have nothing in admiration. And these men are of this opinion, that because they are not to admire, praise, and honor others, therefore they must despise and dispraise them, and by the disdaine and contempt of others they thinke themselves to seeme grave and venerable. For reason Philosophicall, although it rejecteth that woonder and admi­ration which proceedeth of doubt or ignorance, for that she knoweth the cause of everie thing, and is able to discourse thereof; yet for all that it condemneth not courtesie, magnanimitie and humanitie. For certes unto such as truely and certainly are good, a right great honor it is to honour those that are worthie of honor: also for a man to adorne another is an excellent ornament proceeding from a superabundance (as it were) of glorie and honor which is in him­selfe, 10 voide of all envie and malice. Whereas those that be niggards in praising of another, seeme to be poore & bare themselves that way, & bewray how hungrie they be after their owne praises. Now on the contrarie side, he who without all judgement & discretion at everie word and syllable (in a maner) is readie to rise up & give acclamation, offendeth asmuch another way, being a man of levitie and inconstancie, oftentimes displeaseth, even them that be the speakers, but alwaies is offensive and troublesome to other assistants about him: causing them to rise up eftsoons & lift up themselves against their wils, drawing them perforce to do as they see him do, and even for verie shame and modestie, to set up some cries and acclamations with him for companie. Now after that he hath reaped no fruit nor edification by the oration that he hath heard, for that he had so troubled and disquieted the auditorie by his unseasonable praises, he 20 returneth from thence with one of these three additions to his stile: namely, either a Mocker, a Flatterer, or a Blockhead, who understood not what was said. A judge I must needs say, when he sitteth upon the seat of Iustice to heare and determine causes, ought to give eare unto both par­ties without hatred or favour, voide of all affection, and respective onely to right and equitie. But in the auditories where learned men are met together, there is neither law nor oath hinde­reth us, but that we may heare him with favour and benevolence, who doth speake and discourse unto us. And even our ancients in old time were woont to place and set Mercurie in their temples neere unto the Graces, giving us thereby to know that above all things, a speech pub­likely delivered, requireth a gracious and friendly audience: for they never thought that the speaker would be such an outcast, or so farre short and unsufficient; but if he were not able either 30 to say somewhat of his owne invention praise worthy, or to report from auncients that which is memorable, or to deliver the subject matter of his speech together with his drift and inten­tion, so as it deserved applause: yet at leastwise, his eloquution and disposition of everie part might be commendable: for according to the old proverb,

For if some to shew their wit, have taken upon them the praise of vomiting, others of fever, and someiwis of a pot or caudron, and yet have not failed of favor and approbation: how can it 40 otherwise be, but that the oration compassed by a grave personage, who in some sort is reputed, or at leastwise called a Philosopher, should minister unto benevolent, gracious and courteous Auditours some respit and opportunitie of time for to praise and commend the same? Al those that are in the flowre and prime of their age, saith Plato, one way or other, do affect and moove him that is enamoured on them: insomuch as if they be white of colour, he calleth them the children of the gods: if blacke of hew, he termes them manly and magnanimous: be one hawke-nosed, such he nameth Roiall and of a kingly race: is he camoise or flat nosed, him he will have to be gentle, pleasant and gracious: and to conclude, looketh one pale & yellow, then to cover and mollifie in some sort that ill colour, he useth to call him Hony-face: and every one of these defects, he loveth and embraceth as severall beauties: For in love is no lacke, and of 50 this nature it is to claspe and cleave to every thing that it can reach or meet withall, in maner of Ivy; much more then wil he that is a studious scholar & a diligent hearer, find alwaies one thing or other, for which he may seeme worthily to praise any one that mounteth up into the chaire for to declaime or discourse. For even Plato himselfe, who in the oration of Lysias commended not the invention; and as for the disposition thereof, utterly found fault therewith as disorder­ly and confused: yet he praised his stile and eloquution, & gave this attribute unto it, that every word was perspicuous and lightsome, and withall ran round, as if they all had beene artificiallie [Page 60] wrought with the Turners instrument. A man that were so disposed, may seeme in reason to reproove in Archylocus the argument and subject matter: in Parmenides the composition of his verses: in Phocylides, the meane and homely matter: the loquacity of Euripides, and the in­equalitie or uneven stile of Sophocles: After which sort, you shall have among Oratours and Rhetoricians, one who cannot expresse the naturall disposition of a man, another who hath no power in resembling passions & affections, and another againe who faileth in grace and yet ech one of them commendable enough for some particular and especiall gift, either to moove or to delight. In which regard, the hearers also, may find sufficient matter & pleasure enough to gra­tisie and content if they list, those that speake and make orations to them. For some of them it sufficeth although we do not testifie our good liking of them by lively and open voice, to give 10 them a favourable regard of the eie, to shew them a milde and gentle visage, a cheerefull looke, an amiable disposition of the countenance, without any signe of sadnes and heavinesse. And verily, these things are growen now to be of common and ordinary, that we can affoord them even to those who speake but so so and to no purpose at all; insomuch, as every auditorie can skill thereof: But to sit still modestly in his place without any token of disdaine; to beare the body upright, leaning neither one way nor other; to fixe the eie wistly upon him that speaketh; to shew a forward gesture, as if one gave great attention and marked every word seriously; to set and dispose the countenance plaine, pure and simple, without any signification at all, not onely of contempt or discontentment, but also of all other cares and thoughts whatsoever, be evident tokens of approbation, and tend all thereto. For, as in every thing els, beautie and fauour is 20 composed and framed (as it were) of many numbers meeting and concurring in one, and all to­gether at the same time, and that by a certaine symmetrie, consonance and harmonie: but that which is foule and ill fauoured, is bred immediatly by the least thing in the world, that either is wanting, or added and put to absurdly, otherwise than it should; even so we may notably ob­serve in this action of hearing, not onely the knitting and bending of the browes, or the heavie cheere of the visage, a crooked aspect and wandring cast of the eye, a writhing away or turning about of the bodie, an undecent change of the thighes crosse one over another: but a very nod of the head, or winke of the eye alone, the whispering or rounding one of another in the eare, a bare smile, gapings, and drowsie yawnings, as if a man were ready to drop asleepe: finally, the hanging downe of the head, and whatsoever gestures of that sort, wee are countable for as fault 30 woorthy, and they would be carefully taken heed of. Howbeit, there be some of this opinion, that the speaker indeed ought to looke unto himselfe and his behaviour when hee is aloft; but the hearers beneath need not. They would (I say) have him who is to make a speech in pub­like place, to come well prepared, and with diligent praemeditation of that which he ought to say: but as for the hearers, they have no more to doe but to take their places, without any fore­thinking of the matter, without any care and regard at all of duetie and demeanour after they be set, as if they were come to a very supper, and nothing els, there to take their repast or ease them­selues, whiles others take paine and travell. And yet a guest that goeth to suppe with another, hath something to doe and observe when he sits at the table, if hee would be thought civill and manerly: how much more then, in all reason, is an auditour bound so to do, who is to heare an­other 40 speake. For he is partaker with him of his speech, yea, and by right, a coadjutour of him: he ought not then, to examine rigourously his faults escaped; hee is not to sift narrowly, and weigh in severe ballance ech word of his, and every gesture; whiles hee himselfe (exempt from censure and controlment, and without feare of being espied and searched into) committeth many enormities, unseemly parts, and incongruities in hearing. For like as at Tennis play, he that receiveth the ball, ought in the stirring and motion of his bodie to accommodate him­selfe handsomely and in order to his fellow that smit it; even so betweene the speaker and the hearer, if both of them observe their duetie and decencie, there would be a mutuall and recipro­call porportion. Now in yeelding praises unto the Reader or Speaker, we must not inconside­rately, use all maner of termes and acclamations without discretion: For Epicurus himselfe is 50 not well liked, but odious, when he saith, That upon the reading of any letters missive from his friends unto him, they that were about him did set up excessive outcries and applauses, with troublesome clapping of their hands. And verily those who bring in now adayes into the au­ditorie uncoth and strange noises by way of acclamation; they also who have brought up these termes, O heavenly and divine speech; The voice of God & not of man, uttered by his mouth; and, Who is able to come neere unto him? as though it were not sufficient, simply thus to say; O well said, Wisely spoken, or, Truely delivered; which were the testimonies and signes of [Page 61] praise which Plato, Socrates, and Hyperides used in old time) such men, I say, doe highly offend, and passe the bounds of decencie exceeding much: nay, they doe traduce and abuse the spea­kers themselves, as though they did hunt after, and lay for such excessive and proud commen­dations. Those also be odious and unpleasant, who as if they were in some judiciall Court, de­pose and give formall testimonie as touching the honour of the speakers, and binde the same with an oth: neither be they in lesse fault, who without regard of the qualitie of persons, doe ac­comodate unto them their titles of praise beside all decorum: As for example, when they be ready to crie aloud unto a Philosopher, O quicke and wittie saying! and unto an olde man, O what a brave and jolly speech is this! transferring and applying unto Philosophers those words and termes that ordinarily are used or attributed to plaiers, or such as exercise and shew them­selves 10 in scholasticall declamations: and to a serious and sober oration, giving a praise more be­seeming a light and wanton courtisan: which is as much, as if upon the head of a victorious champion, they should set a garland of lillies or roses, and not of the lawrell or wilde olive tree. Euripides verily, the Poet, when one overheard him as he prompted and endited unto the actors or persons in the Chorus, a certaine song set to musicall harmonie, and therewith laughed hearti­lie whiles he instructed them in singing the same; If thou wert not (quoth hee) some blockish and senselesse dolt, thou wouldest never laugh when I sung a heavy mixt-Lydian tune, or a note to a dumpe or dolefull dittic. Semblably, a grave Philosopher, and a man exercised in mana­ging State affaires, might very well in mine advise, cut off, and represse the delicate insolency of some auditour, over wantonly disposed to mirth and jolity, by saying thus unto him; Thou 20 seemest unto me a brainsick fellow, & untaught: for otherwise whiles I am teaching, preaching, and reprooving vices, discoursing and reading of policie and the administration of Common weale, of the nature of the gods, or the duetie of a Magistrate, thou wouldest neither daunce thus and sing as thou doest. For consider with me in trueth, what a disorder is this, That when a Phi­losopher is in the Schoole at his lecture reading, they within should keepe a crying and how­ling, and make such noises, as they that be without can not tell whether it be some piper, harper, or dauncer that they thus do praise, such a cōfused brute they make within. Moreover, we ought not to heare the reprehensions, rebukes, and corrections of Philosophers, rechlesly without sense of griefe and displeasure, nor yet unmanly: for they that can so well abide to be reprooved or blamed by a Philosopher, and make nothing adoe at it, insomuch as when they be found fault 30 withall, they fall a laughing, or can finde in their hearts to praise those that do reprehend them, much like unto these flattering Parasites, who are content to extoll and commend their good masters that give them their meat and drinke, notwithstanding they be reviled and taunted by them: these fellowes (I say) of all others, be most rash, audacious and bolde, shewing thereby their shamelesse impudencie, which is no good nor true argument of courage and fortitude. As for a pretie scoffe pleasantly delivered, and in mirth, without any wrong meant, or touch of credit, if a man know how to take it well, and be not moved thereby to choler and displeasure, but laugh it out, it doth argue no base minde, nor want of wit and understanding, but is a liberall and gentelman-like qualitie, savouring much of the ingenuous maner of the Lacedaemonians. But to heare a sharpe checke that toucheth the very quicke, and a reprehension to reforme ma­ners, 40 delivered in cutting and tart words, much like unto an egar and biting medicine, and ther­with not to be cast downe, and shrinke together for feare, nor to run all into a sweat, or be ready to [...] and stagger with a dizinesse in the head, for very shame that hath set the heart on fire, but to seeme inflexible and nothing thereat moved, smiling in some sort, and drily scoffing af­ter a dissembling maner, is a notable signe of a most dissolute and illiberall nature, past all grace, and that basheth for nothing, being so long wonted and inured to euill doing; in such sort, as the heart and conscience is hardened and overgrowen with a certaine brawne and thicke skinne, which will not receive the marke or wale of any lash, be it never so smart. And as there be many such, so you shall meet with other youthes of another nature meere contrary unto them; who if they happen but once to be checked and to heare ill, are soone gone, and will not turne againe, 50 but quit the Philosophie schooles for ever. These being endued by nature with the good rudi­ments and beginnings of vertue tending unto felicity another day, to wit, Shamefastnesse and Abashment, loose the benefit thereof, in that by reason of their overmuch delicacy and effaemi­nate minds, they can not abide reproofs, nor with generositie endure correctious, but turne a­way their itching eares, to heare rather the pleasant and smooth tales of some flatterers or so­phisters, which yeeld them no fruit nor profit at all in the end. For as hee, who after incision made, or the fear of dismembring performed by the Chyrurgian, runneth away from him, and [Page 62] will not tary to have his wound bound up or seared, sustaineth all the paine of the cure, but mis­seth the good that might ensue thereof: even so he, who unto that speech of the Philosopher which hath wounded and launced his follie and untowardnesse, will not give leasure to heale the same up, and bring it to a perfect & confirmed skin againe, goeth his waies with the painfull bit and dolorous sting, but wanteth all the helpe and benefit of Philosophie. For not onely the hurt that Telephus received, as Euripides saith,

but also the pricke inflicted upon a towardly yoong man by Philosophie, is healed by the same words that did the hurt. And therefore when hee findeth himselfe checked and blamed, 10 feele he must and suffer some smart, abide (I say) he ought to be bitten, but not to be crushed and confounded therewith, not to be discouraged and dismaide for ever. Thus he is to thinke of himselfe being now inducted in Philosophie, as if he were a novice newly instituted and pro­sessed in some religious orders and sacred mysteries: namely, that after he hath patiently endu­red a while the first expiatorie purifications and troubles, he may hope at the end thereof to see and finde some sweete and goodly fruit of consolation, after this present disquietnesse and ago­nie. Say also, that he were wrongfully and without cause thus snubbed and rebuked by the Phi­losopher, yet he shall do well to have patience and sit out the end. And after the speech fini­shed, he may addresse an Apologie unto him and justifie himselfe, praying him to reserve this libertie of speech and vehemency of reproofe which he now used, for to represse and redresse 20 some other fault, which he shall indeed have committed. Moreover, like as in Grammar, the learning to spel letters and to reade: in Musicke also to play upon the Lute or Harpe; yea and in bodily exercise, the feat of wrestling and other activities, at the beginning be painefull, cumber­some, and exceeding hard, but after that one be well entred and have made some progresse therein, by little and little continuall use and custome (much after the manner of conversing and acquaintance among men) maketh maistrie, engendreth further knowledge, and then everie thing that was stronge and difficult before, prooveth familiar and easie ynough both to say and doe: Even so, it fareth in Philosophie, whereat the first there seemeth no doubt to be some strangenesse, obscuritie, and I wot not what barrennesse, aswell in the termes and words, as in the matters therein contained: Howbeit, for all that a yoong man must not for want of heart 30 be astonied at the first entrance into it, nor yet for faintnesse be discouraged and give over: but make proofe and triall of every thing, persevere and continue in diligence, desirous ever to passe on still and proceed further, and as it were, to draw well before, waiting and attending the time which may make the knowledge thereof familiar by use and custome, the onely meanes which causeth everie thing that is of it selfe good and honest, to be also sweete and pleasant in the ende. And verily this familiaritie will come on apace, bringing with it a great cleernesse and light of learning: it doth ingenerate also an ardent love and affection to vertue, without which love, a man were most wretched or timorous, if he should apply himselfe to follow another course of life, having once given over for want of heart the studie of Philosophie. But perad­venture it may fall out so, that young men not well experienced, may find at the beginning such 40 difficulties in some matters that hardly or unneth at all they shall be able to comprehend them. Howbeit, they are themselves partly the cause that they doe incurre this obscuritie and igno­rance: who being of divers and contrarie natures, yet fall into one and the selfesame inconveni­ence. For some upon a certaine respectuous reverence which they bare unto their Reader and Doctour, or because they would seeme to spare him, are afraid to aske questions, and to be con­firmed and resolved in doubts arising from the doctrine which he delivereth: and so give signes by nodding their heads that they approove all, as if they understood everie thing verie well. Others againe by reason of a certaine importune ambition and vaine emulation of others, for to shew the quicknesse and promptitude of their wit, and their readie capacitie, giving out that they fully understand that which they never conceived, by that meanes attaine to nothing. And 50 thus it commeth to passe, that those bashfull ones, who for modestie and shamefastnes are silent and dare not aske that whereof they are ignorant, after they be departed out of the auditorie, are in heavinesse and doubtfull perplexitie, untill at last they be driven of necessitie with greater shame to trouble those who have once already delivered their doctrine, to runne (I say) unto them backe againe and moove questions anew. And as for these ambitious, bold and presum­ptuous persons they be forced to palliat, cover and disguise their ignorance and blindnes which abideth with them for ever. Therefore casting behinde us and rejecting all such stupiditie and [Page] vanitie; let us take paines and endevour howsoever we do, to learne and throughly to compre­hend, all profitable discourses that shall be taught unto us: and for to effect this, let us be con­tent gently to beare the scoffes and derisions of others, that thinke themselves quicker of con­ceit than our selves: according to the example of Cleanthes and Xenocrates, who being [...] what more grosse and dull of capacitie than others their school-fellowes, ran not therefore away from schoole, nor were any whit discouraged, but the first that scoffed and made sport with them­selves, saying, they were like unto narrow mouthed vessels and brasen tables, for that they hardly conceived any thing that was taught them, but they retained and kept the same safe and surely when they had it once: for not onely as Phocylides saith,

but also to suffer himselfe to be mocked oftentimes and to endure much reproch, to abide broad jests and skurrile skoffes: expelling ignorance with all his might and maine: yea, and conque­ring the same.

Moreover, we must be carefull to avoide one fault more, which many commit on the con­trarie side; who for that they be somewhat slow of apprehension and idle withall, are verie trou­blesome unto their teachers, and importune them overmuch: when they be apart by them­selves, they will not take any paines nor labour to understand that which they have heard; but they put their masters to new travell, who reade unto them: asking and enquiring of them ever and anon concerning one and the same thing, resembling herein yoong callow birds which are 20 not yet fethered and fledg'd, but alwaies gaping toward the bill of the damme, and so by their good wils would have nothing given them, but that which hath beene chewed and prepared al­ready. Now there be others yet, who desirous beyond all reason to be counted quicke of wit and attentive hearers, wearie their masters even as they are reading unto thē, with much prittle prat­tle, interrupting them everie foot in their lectures, demaunding of them one thing or other that is needlesse and impertinent, calling for proofs and demonstrations of things where no need is:

According as Sophocles said, making much worke, not onely for themselves, but also for others: For staying their teacher thus as they doe everie foote with their vaine and superfluous questi­ons, 30 as if they were walking together upon the way, they hinder the course of the lecture, being so often interrupted and broken off. These fellowes then according to the saying of Hierom, in this doing are much like to cowardly & dastardly curre dogs, which, when they be at home with­in house, will bite the hides and skinnes of wilde beasts, and lie tugging at their shagged haire: but they dare not touch them abroad in the field. Furthermore, I would give those others, who are but soft spirited and slow withall, this counsell that retaining the principall points of everie matter, they supplie the rest apart by themselves, exercising their memorie, and as it were lea­ding it by the hand to all that dependeth thereto: to the end that when they have conceived in their spirit the words of others, as it were the elementarie beginning and the verie seede, they might nourish and augment the same: For that the minde and understanding of man is not of 40 the nature of a vessell that requireth to be filled up: but it hath neede onely of some match (if I may so say) to kindle and set it on fire (like as the matter standeth ever in need of the effici­ent cause) which may ingender in it a certaine inventive motion, and an affection to finde out the truth. Well then, like as if a man going to his neighbour for to fetch fire, and finding there good store, and the same burning light in the chimney, should sit him downe by it and warme himselfe continually thereat, and never make care to take some of it home with him, you would take him to be unwise: even so he, that commeth to another for to learne, and thinketh not that he ought to kindle his owne fire within and make light in his owne minde, but taketh pleasure in hearing onely, and there sitteth by his master still, and joyeth onely in this contentment: he may well get himselfe a kind of opinion by the words of another, like a fresh and red colour by 50 sitting by the fire side: but as for the mosse or rust of his minde within, he shall never skoure it out, nor disperse the darkenes by the light of Philosophie.

Now if there be neede yet of one precept more to atchieve the dutie of a good auditour, it is this, That we ought to remember eftsoones that which now I have to say: namely, That we exercise our wit and understanding by our selves, to invent something of our owne, aswell as to comprehend that which we heare of others: to the end that we may acquire within our selves a certaine habitude, not sophisticall nor historicall, that is to say, apparant onely, and able to [Page 64] recite barely that which we have beene taught by others, but a more inwardly imprinted and philosophicall, making this account, that the verie beginning of a good life, is to heare well and as we ought.

OF MORALL VERTVE. 30

MY purpose is to treate of that vertue, which is both called and also reputed Morall, and namely wherein it differeth especially from vertue contemplative: as having for the subject matter thereof, the passions of the minde, and for the forme, Reason: Likewise of what nature and substance it is; as also, how it doth subsist and hath the Being: to wit, whether that part of the soule which is capable of the said vertue be endued and adourned with reason as appropriate and peculiar unto it; or, whether it borrow it from other parts, & so 40 receiving it, be like unto things mingled, and adhering to the bet­ter: or rather, for that being under the government and rule of ano­ther, it be said to participate the power and puissance of that which commendeth it? For, that vertue also may subsist and have an essentiall being, without any subject matter and mixture at all, I suppose it is very evident and apparent. But first and formost, I hold it very expedient, briefly to run through the opinions of other Philosophers, not so much by way of an Historical narration and so an end, as, that when they be once shewed and laid abroad, our opinion may both appeere more plainly, and also be held more surely.

Menedemus then, who was borne in the citie Eretria, abolished all pluralitie and difference of vertues, supposing that there was but one onely vertue, and the same knowen by sundry names: 50 For he said, that it was but one and the same thing, which men called Temperance, Fortitude, and Iustice: like as if one should say, A Reasonable creature and a man, he meaneth the selfe same thing. As for Ariston the Chian, he was of opinion likewise, that in substance there was no more but one vertue, the which he termed by the name of Health: mary, in some divers re­spects, there were many vertues, and those different one from another: as namely for example, if a man should call our eie-sight, when it beholdeth white things Leucothea: when it seeth black Melanthie: and so likewise in other matters. For vertue, (quoth he) which concerneth and [Page 65] considereth what we ought either to do or not to do, beareth the name of Prudence: when it ruleth and ordereth our lust or concupiscence, limiting out a certaine measure, and lawfull pro­portion of time unto pleasures, it is called Temperance: if it intermedle with the commerce, contracts and negotiation betweene man and man, then it is named Iustice: like as (to make it more plaine) a knife is the same still, although it cut, now one thing, and then another: and the fire notwithstanding it worketh upon sundry matters, yet it remameth alwaies of one and the same nature. It seemeth also, that Zeno the Citiean, inclined in some sort to this opinion, who in [...] Prudence, saith, that when it doth distribute to every man his owne, it ought to be called Iustice when it is occupied in objects either to be chosen or avoided, then it is Tempe­rance; and in bearing or suffring, it should be named Fortitude. Now, they that defend and 10 mainteine this opinion of Zeno, affirme, that by Prudence he understandeth Science or Knowledge. But Chrysyppus, who was of this minde, that ech vertue had a peculiar qualitie, and according to it, ought to be defined and set downe, wist not how (ere he was aware) he brought into Philosophie, and as Plato saith, raised a swarme of vertues never knowne before, and where­with the schooles had not beene acquainted. For like as of Valiant he derived Valour, of Iust Iustice, of Clement Clemencie: so also of Gracious, he comes in with Gratiositie, of Good, Goodnes, of Great, Greatnesse, of Honest, Honestie, and all other such like Dexterities, asfa­bilities and courtesies, he termed by the name of vertues, and so pestered Philosophie with new, strange and absurd words, more iwis than was needfull.

Now these Philosophers agree jointly all in this, that they set downe vertue to be a certeine 20 disposition and power of the principall part of the soule, acquired by reason: or rather, that it is reason it selfe: and this they suppose as a truth consessed, certeine, firme and irrefragable. They hold also, that the part of the soule, subject to passions, sensuall, brutish and unreasona­ble, differeth not from reason by any essentiall difference, or by nature: but they imagine, that the very part and substance of the soule which they call understanding, reason, and the principal part, being wholy turned and changed, as well in sodaine passions, as alterations by habitude and disposition, becommeth either vice or vertue, and in it selfe hath no brutishnesse at all: but is named onely unreasonable, according as the motion of the appetite and lust is so powerfull, that it becommeth mistresse, and by that meanes she is driven and caried forcibly to some dis­honest and absurd course, contrary to the judgement of reason: For they would have that very 30 motion or passion it selfe to be reason, howbeit depraved and naught, as taking her force and strength from false and perverse judgement. Howbeit, all these (as it may seeme) were ignorant of this one point; namely, that ech one of us (to speake truly) is double and compound: And as for one of these duplicities, they never throughly saw; that onely which is of the twaine more evident, to wit, the mixture or composition of the soule and body they acknowledge. And yet, that there is besides a certeine duplicitie in the soule it selfe, which consisteth of two divers and different natures: and namely, that the brutish and reasonles part, in maner of another bodie is combined and knit into reason by a certeine naturall linke of necessitie: It seemeth that Pytha­goras himselfe was not ignorant: And this we may undoubtedly gather and conjecture by his great diligence which he emploied in that Musicke and Harmonie which he inferred for the 40 dulcing, taming & appeasing of the soule: as knowing ful wel, that all the parts thereof were not obedient and subject to instruction, learning and discipline, ne yet such as might by reason be altered and trained from vice to vertue: but required some other kinde of perswasive power cooperative with it, for to frame the same and make it gentle and tractable: for otherwise it would be hardly or never conquered by Philosophie, and brought within the compasse of obe­dience; so obstinate and rebellious it is. And Plato verily was of this opinion (which he profes­sed openly, and held as a firme and vndoubted trueth) that the soule of this universall world, is not simple, uniforme, and uncompounded, but mixed (as it were) of a certaine power of 1. The sam Identitie and of Diversity. For after one sort, it is governed and turned about continually in an uniforme maner, by meanes of one and the same order, which is powerfull and praedominant 50 over all: and after another sort againe, it is divided into circles, sphoeres, and motions, wande­ring and contrary in maner to the other: whereupon dependeth the beginning of diversitie in generation of all things in the earth. Semblably (quoth he) the soule of man, being a part and portion of that universall soule of the world, composed likewise of proportions and numbers answerable to the other, is not simple and of one nature or affection, but one part thereof is more spirituall, intelligible and reasonable, which ought of right and according to nature have the soveraigntie and command in man: the other is brutish, sensuall, erronious, and disorderly [Page 66] of it selfe, requiring the direction and guidance of another. Now, this is subdivided againe in­to other two parts; where of the one is alwaies called Corporall or Vegetative; the other Thy­mocides, as one would say, Irascible and Concupiscible; which one while doeth adhere and sticke close to the foresaid grosse and corporall portion: and otherwhiles to the more pure and spirituall part, which is the Discourse of reason; unto which according as it doth frame and ap­ply it selfe, it giveth strength and vigor thereto. Now the difference betweene the one and the other, may be knowen principally by the fight and resistance that often times is betweene un­derstanding and reason on the one side, and the concupiscence and wrathfull part on the other; which sheweth that these other faculties are often disobedient and repugnant to the best part. And verily, Aristotle used these principles and grounds especially above all others at the first, 10 as appeareth by his writings: but afterwards, he attributed the irascible part unto the concupi­scible, confounding them both together in one, as if ire were a concupiscence or desire of re­venge. Howbeit, this he alwaies held to the very end, That the brutish and sensuall part, which is subject unto passions, was wholly and ever distinct from the intellectuall part, which is the same that reason: not that it is fully depriued of reason, as is that corporall and grosse part of the soule, to wit, whereby we have sense onely common with beasts, and whereby we are nouri­shed as plants. But whereas, this being surd and deafe, and altogether uncapable of reason, doth after a sort proceed and spring from the flesh, and alwaies cleave unto the bodie: the other sen­suall part which is so subject unto passions, although it be in it selfe destitute of reason, as a thing proper unto it: yet neverthelesse apt and fit it is to heare and obey the understanding and dis­coursing 20 part of the minde; insomuch as it will turne vnto it, suffer it selfe to be ranged and or­dered according to the rules and precepts thereof; unlesse it be utterly spoiled and corrupted, either by blinde and foolish pleasure, or els by a loose and intemperate course of life. As for them that make a wonder at this, and do not conceive how that part being in some sort brutish and unreasonable, may yet be obedient unto reason, they seeme unto me as if they did not well comprehend the might and power of reason: namely, how great it is, and forcible, or how farre forth it may pearce and passe in command, guidance and direction; not by way of rough, chur­lish, violent, and irregular courses, but by faire and formall meanes, which are able to doe more by gentle inducements and persuasions, than all the necessarie constraints and inforcements in the world. That this is so, it appeareth by the breath, spirits, sinewes, bones, and other parts of 30 the body, which be altogether void of reason: howbeit, so soone as there ariseth any motion of the will, which shaketh (as it were) thereines of reason never so little, all of them keepe their or­der, they agree together, and yeeld obedience. As for example, if the minde and will be dispo­sed to run, the feet are quickly stretched out and ready for a course; the hands likewise settle to their businesse, if there be a motion of the minde either to throw, or take holde of any thing. And verily, the Poet Homer most excellently expresseth the sympathie and conformitie of this brutish part of the soule unto reason, in these verses;

In such obedience to the judgement of reason he had his breath, spirits, his blood and his teares. An evident proofe hereof is to be seene in those, whose flesh doth rise upon the first sight of faire and beautifull persons: for no sooner doth reason or law forbid to come neere and touch them, but presently the same falleth, lieth downe, and is quiet againe without any stirring or [Page 67] panting at all. A thing verie ordinarie and most commonly perceived in those, who be enamo­red upon faire women, not knowing at first who they were. For so soone as they perceive after­wards, that they be their owne sisters or daughters, their lust presently cooleth, by meanes of reason that toucheth it and interposeth it selfe betweene: so that the bodie keepeth all the mem­bers thereof decently in order, and obedient to the judgement of the said reason. Moreover, it falleth out oftentimes, that we eate with a good stomacke and great pleasure certaine meates and viands, before we know what they are: but after we understand and perceive once that wee have taken either that which was uncleane or unlawfull and forbidden: not onely in our judge­ment and understanding we finde trouble and offence thereby; but also our bodily faculties a­greeing to our opinion are dismaied thereat: so that anon, thore ensue vomits, sicke quawmes, 10 and overturnings of the stomake, which disquiet all the whole frame. And were it not, that I greatly feared to be thought of purpose, to gather and insert in my discourse such pleasant and youthfull inducements, I could inferre in this place Psalteries, Lutes, Harpes, Pipes, Flutes, and other like musicall instruments, how they are devised by Art, for to accord and frame with hu­mane passions: for notwithstanding they be altogether without life, yet they cease not to apply themselves unto us, and the judgement of our minds, lamenting, singing, and wantonly dispor­ting together with us, resembling both the turbulent passions, and also the milde affections and dispositions of those that play upon them. And yet verily it is reported also of Zeno himselfe, that he went one day to the Theatre for to heare the Musician Amoebeus, who sung unto the Harpe: saying unto his scholers, Let us goe Sirs and learne what harmonie and musicke the 20 entrailes of beasts, their sinewes and bones: Let us see (I say) what resonance and melodie bare wood may yeeld, being disposed by numbers, proportions and order. But leaving these exam­ples, I would gladly demaund and aske of them, if when they see dogs, horses, and birds, which we nourish and keepe in our houses, brought to that passe by use, seeding and teaching, that they learne to render sensible words, to performe certaine motions, gestures, and divers seates, both pleasant and profitable unto us; and likewise, when they read in Homer, how Achilles en­couraged to battell both horse and man; they doe marvell still and make doubt, whether that part and facultie in us, whereby we are angrie, do lust, joy or grieve, be of that nature that it can well obey reason, and be so affected and disposed thereby that it may give assent thereto: consi­dering especially, that it is not seated or lodged without, nor separated from us, ne yet framed by 30 any thing which is not in us: no nor shapen by forcible meanes and constraint, to wit, by mold, stroke of hammer, or any such thing: but as it is fitted and forged by nature, so it keepeth to her, is conversant with her, and finally perfited and accomplished by custome and continuance. Which is the reason that verie properly Manners be called in Greeke by the name [...], to give us to understand, that they are nothing else (to speake plainely and after a grosse manner) but a certaine qualitie imprinted by long continuance of time, in that part of the soule which of it selfe is unreasonable: and is named [...], for that the said reasonlesse part framed by reason, ta­keth this qualitie or difference (call it whether you will) by the meanes of long time and custom which they terme [...]. For reason is not willing to roote out quite all passions (which were nei­ther possible nor expedient) but onely it doth limit them within certaine bounds, and setteth 40 downe a kinde of order: and thus aftera sort causeth Morall vertues not to be impassibilities, but rather mediocrities and regularities, or moderations of our affections: and this it doth by the meanes of prudence and wisedome, which reduceth the power of this sensuall and patheti­call part, unto a civill and honest habitude. For these three things (they say) are in the soule of man, to wit, a naturall puissance or facultie, a passion or motion, and also an habitude. Now the said facultie or power is the verie beginning, and (as a man would say) the matter of passions, to wit, the power or aptnesse to be angrie, to be ashamed, or to be confident and bold. The passion is the actuall mooving of the said power: namely, anger it selfe, shame, confidence or boldnes. The habitude is a settled and confirmed strength established in the sensuall or unreasonable part by continuall use and custome: which if the passions be ill governed by reason, becom­meth 50 to be a vice: and contrariwise, a vertue; in case the same be well ordered and directed thereby. Moreover, forasmuch as Philosophers do not hold and affirme, that everie vertue is a mediocritie nor call it Morall: to the end therefore, that we may the better declare and shew the difference, we had need to fetch the beginning of this discourse farther off.

Of all things then that be in the world, some have their essence and being of themselves ab­solutely and simply: others respectively and in relation to us. Absolutely have their being the earth, the heaven, the stars, and the sea: Respectively and in regard of us, Good, evill, profita­ble, [Page 68] hurtfull, pleasant, and displeasant. Now it being so, that reason doth contemplate and be­hold, the one sort aswell as the other: the former ranke of those things which are sunply and ab­solutely so, pertaine unto science and speculation, as their proper objects: the second kinde of those things which are understood by reference and regard unto us, pertaine properly unto consultation and action. And as the vertue of the former sort is called Sapience: so the vertue of the other is named Prudence. For a difference there is betweene Prudence and Sapience: in this, that Prudence consisteth in a certaine relation & application of the contemplative facultie of the soule unto Action, and unto the regiment of the sensuall part according to reason: by which occasion, Prudence had need of the assistance of Fortune: whereas Sapience hath no­thing to do with it, no more than it hath need of consultation, for to attaine and reach unto the 10 ende it aymeth at. For that indeed it concerneth such things as be ever one and alwaies of the same sort. And like as the Geometrician never consulteth as touching a triangle, to wit, whe­ther it hath three angles equall to twaine that be right, or no? Because he knoweth assuredly that it hath (for all consultations are concerning things that varie and alter sometime after one sort, and otherwhiles after another, and never medleth with those that be firme, stable, and im­mutable) even so, the understanding and contemplative facultie of the minde, exercising her functions in those first and principall things which be permanent, and have evermore the same nature, not capable of chaunge and mutation, is sequestred and exempt altogether from consultation. But Prudence which descendeth to things full of varietie, error, trouble, and con­fusion, must of necessitie eftsoones intermedle with casualties, and use deliberation in things 20 more doubtfull and uncertaine: yea and after it hath consulted to proceed unto action, calling and drawing unto it the reasonlesse part also to be assistant and present, as drawen into the judge­ment of things to be executed. For need those actions have of a certaine instinct and motion to set them forward, which this Morall habitude doth make in each passion, and the same in­stinct requireth likewise the assistance of reason to limit it that it may be moderate, to the ende that it neither exceed the meane, nor come short and be defective: for that it cannot be chosen but this brutish and passible part hath motions in it; some overvehement, quicke and sudden, others as slow againe, and more slacke than is meet. Which is the reason that our actions can­not be good but after one manner: whereas, they may be evill after divers sorts: like as a man cannot hit the marke but one way: marie he may misse sundrie waies, either by overshooting 30 or comming short. The part and dutie then, of that active facultie of reason according to na­ture, is to cut off and take away all those excessive or defective passions, and to reduce them un­to a mediocritie. For whereas the said instinct or motion, either by infirmitie, effeminate deli­cacie, feare, or slothfulnesse, doth faile and come short of dutie and the end required, there ac­tive reason is present ready to rouse, excite, and stirre up the same. Againe on the other side, when it runneth on end beyond all measure, after a dissolute and disorderly manner, there reason is prest, to abridge that which is too much, and to represse and stay the same: thus ruling and restraining these patheticall motions, it breedeth in man these Morall vertues whereof we speake, imprinting them in that reasonlesse part of the mind: and no other they are than a 40 meane betweene excesse and defect. Neither must we thinke, That all vertues do consist in a mediocritie: for Sapience or Wisedome, which stand in no need at all of the brutish and un­reasonable part, and consist onely in the pure and sincere intelligence and discourse of under­standing, and not subject to all passions, is the verie height and excellencie of reason, perfect and absolute of it selfe: a full and accomplished power (I say) wherein is engendred that most divine, heavenly and happie knowledge. But Morall vertue which savoureth somewhat of the earth, by reason of the necessities of our bodie, and in which regard it standeth in neede of the instrumentall ministerie of the patheticall part, for to worke and performe her operations, be­ing in no wise the corruption or abolition of the sensuall and unreasonable part of the soule, but rather the order, moderation and embelishment thereof, is the extremitie and height of excel­lence, in respect of the facultie and qualitie: but considering the quantitie is rather a medio­critie, 50 taking away the excesse on the one side and the defect on the other.

But now, forasmuch as this terme of Meane or Mediocritie may be understood diverse waies, we are to set downe what kinde of meane this Morall vertue is. First and formost there­fore whereas there is one meane compounded of two simple extremes, as a russet or browne co­lour betweene white and blacke: also that which conteineth and is conteined, must needs be the middest betweene the thing that doth conteine and is conteined, as for example, the number of 8. is just betweene 12. and 4. like as that, which taketh no part at all of either extreame, as [Page 69] namely those things which we call Adiaphora, Indifferent, and do partake neither good nor ill: In none of these significations or senses can this vertue be called a meane or mediocri­tie. For surely it may not be in any wise a composition or mixture of two vices which be both worse: neither doth it comprehend the lesse and defective: or is comprehended of that which is overmuch above decencie, and excessive, ne yet is it altogether void of passions and perturbations, subject to excesse and defect, to more and lesse than is meet. But this morall vertue of ours, as it is in deed, so also it is called a Meane, especially in respect of that medio­critie which is observed in the Harmonie and accord of sounds. For like as in Musicke there is a note or sound called the Meane, for that it is the middes betweene the treble and base, which in Greeke be called Hypate and Nete, and lieth just betwixt the height and loudnesse of the 10 one, and the lownesse or basenesse of the other: Even so, morall vertue being a motion and facultie about the unreasonable part of the soule, tempereth the remission and intention, and in one word taketh away the excesse and defect of the passions, reducing ech of them to a certeine Mediocritie and moderation that falleth not on any side.

Now, to begin with Fortitude, they say it is the meane between Cowardise & rash Audacitie, of which twaine the one is a defect, the other an excesse of the yrefull passion. Liberalitie, be­tweene Nigardise & Prodigalitie: Clemencie & Mildnesse, betweene senselesse Indolence and Crueltie: Iustice, the meane of giving more or lesse than due, in contracts and affaires betweene men: like as Temperance, a mediocritie betweene the blockish stupiditie of the minde mooved with no touch of pleasure, & an unbrideled loosenes whereby it is abandoned to all sensualitie. 20 Wherein especially & most cleerly is given us to understand & see the difference between the brutish & the reasonable part of the soule: & thereby evident it is that wandring passions be one thing, & reason another: for otherwise we should not discerne Continency from Temperance, nor Incontinencie from Intemperance, in pleasure and lusts, if that facultie of the mind where­by we judge, and that whereby we cover and desire were all one and the same: but now, Tempe­rance is, when reason is able to manage, handle and governe the sensuall and passionate part (as if it were a beast brought up by hand and made tame and gentle, so as it will be readie to obey it in all desires and lusts, yea and willing to receiue the bit) whereas Continencie is when reason doth rule and command concupisence as being the stronger, and leadeth it, but not without some paines and trouble thereof, for that it is not willing to shew obedience, but striveth, 30 flingeth out sidelong, & goeth crossed, insomuch as it hath enough to do for to master it with stripes of the cudgell, and with hard bits of the bridle to hold it in and restreine it, whiles it re­sisteth all that ever it may, and putteth reason to much agonie, trouble and travaile: which Plato doth lively represent unto us by a proper similitude, saying, that there be two draught beasts which draw the chariot of our soules, whereof the woorst doth both winse and strive against the other fellow in the same yoke, and also troubleth the cochman or charioter, who hath the con­duct of them; putting him to his shifts that he is faine alwaies to pull in and hold his head hard, otherwhiles glad to let him slacke and give him the head for feare, as Symonides saith,

Thus you see what the reason is, why they do not vouchsafe Continencie, the name of a pre­fect vertue in it selfe, but thinke it to be lesse than vertue. For there is not in it a certeine me­diocritie arising from the Symphonie and accord of the worst with the better: neither is the excesse of passion cut away, ne yet doth the appetite yeeld it selfe obedient and agreeable to reason: but doth trouble and vexe, and is troubled and vexed reciprocally, being kept downe perforce and by constraint; like as in a seditious state, both parties at discord, intending mis­chiefe and warre one against another, dwell together within the precinct of one wall: insomuch as the soule of a continent person for the fight and variance betweene reason and appetite, may aptly be compared as Sophocles saith unto a city,

And hereupon it is alos, that they hold Inc̄otinencie to be lesse than Vice: mary, Intemperance they will have to be a full & compleat vice indeed: For that in it as the affection is ill, so the rea­son also is corrupt & depraved: and as by the one it is incited & led to the appetite of filthinesse & dishonestie, so by the other through perverse judgement it is induced to give consent unto [Page 70] dishonest lusts, and withall groweth to be senselesse & hath no feeling at all of sinnes and faults which it comitteth: whereas Incontinencie reteineth still a right and sound judgement by meanes of reason: Howbeit through the vehement and violent passion which is stronger than reason, it is caried away against the owne judgement. Moreover, in these respects, it differeth from Intemperance: For that the reason of the incontinent person is overmatched with pas­sion: but of the other, it doth not so much as enter combat therewith. He, albeit he contradict, gainsay, and strives a while, yet in the end yeeldeth unto lusts and followeth them; but the In­temperate man is led thereby, and at the first giveth consent, and approoveth thereof. Againe, the Intemperate person is well content, and taketh joy in having sinned: whereas the other is presently greeved thereat. Againe, he runneth willingly and of his owne accord to commit 10 sinne and vilanie; but the incontinent man, maugre and full against his minde doth abandon honestie. And as there is this distinct difference plainly seene in their deeds and actions, so there is no lesse to be observed in their words and speeches. For the sayings ordinarily of the Intemperate person be these and such like,

Another saith,

As if with all his hart and soule he were wholly given to a voluptuous life, yea and overwhelmed therewith. And no lesse than those, he also who hath these words in his mouth,

speaketh as one whose appetite and judgement both were out of order and diseased. But the speeches of Incontinent persons be in another key and farre different. For one saith,

Another, 30

And a third,

He nameth unproperly and without good grace the slanck of an anchor resting lightly upon 40 the loose sand, to signifie the feeble hold that reason hath which is not resolute and firmely sea­ted, but through the weaknesse and delicacie of the soule, rejecteth and forsaketh judgement: And not much unlike heereunto, is this comparison also that another maketh in a contrarie sense;

He termeth the judgement of reason, when it resisteth a dishonest act, by the name of Ca­ble and Cordage; which notwithstanding afterwards may be broken by the violence of some 50 passion (as it were) with the continuall gales of ablustring winde. For to say a very trueth, the intemperate person is by his lusts and desires caried with full saile to his pleasures; hee giveth himselfe thereto, and thither directeth his whole course: but the incontinent person tendeth thither also: howbeit (as a man would say) crookedly and not directly, as one desirous and en­devouring to withdraw himselfe, and to repell the passion that draweth and moveth him to it, yet in the end he also slideth and falleth into some foule and dishonest act: Like as Timon by way of biting, scoffe, traduced and reproved Anaxarchus in this wise,

For neither is a wise Sage properly called continent, but temperate: nor a foole incontinent, but intemperate: because the one taketh pleasure and delight in good and honest things; and the other is not offended nor displeased with foule and dishonest actions. And therefore in­continencie resembleth properly a minde (as I may so say) Sophisticall, which hath some use 10 of reason, but the same so weake, that it is not able to perseuere and continue firme in that which it hath once knowen and judged to be right. Thus you may see the differences betweene Intem­perance and Incontinence: As for Continencie & Temperance, they differ also in certeine re­spects correspondent in some proportion unto those on the contrary side. For remorse, sor­row, displeasure and indignation, doe not as yet abandon and quit continence: whereas in the minde of a temperate person, all lieth plaine and even on every side; nothing there but quiet­nesse and integritie, in such sort, as whosoever seeth the great obeisance and the marvellous tranquillitie whereby the reasonlesse part is united & incorporate together with the reasonable, might well say,

namely, when reason had once extinguished the excessive, furious, and raging motions of the lusts and desires. And yet these affections and passions which of necessity nature hath need of, the same hath reason made so agreeable, so obeisant, so friendly and cooperative, yea, and ready to second all good intentions and purposes ready to be executed; that they neither run before it, nor come dragging behinde; ne yet behave themselves disorderly, no, nor shew the least dis­disobedience: so as ech appetite is ruled by reason, and willingly accompanieth it,

The which confirmeth the saying of Xenocrates, touching those who earnestly studie Philoso­phie, and practise it: For they onely (quoth he) doe that willingly, which others doe perforce and for dread of the law: who forbeare indeed to satisfie their pleasures, and turne backe, as if they were scared from them for feare of being bitten of some curst mastive or shrewd cat, regar­ding nothing els but danger that may ensue thereupon. Now, that there is in the soule a sense and perceivance of that strength, firmity, and resolution to encounter sinfull lusts and desires, as if it had a power to strive and make head againe, it is very plaine and evident: howbeit, some there be, who holde and maintaine, That Passion is nothing different from Reason: neither (by their saying) is there in the mind a dissension or sedition (as it were) of two divers faculties: but 40 al the trouble that we feele, is no more but an alteration or change of one & the selfe same thing to wit, reason both waies; which we our selves are not able to perceive, for that forsooth it chan­geth suddenly and with such celeritie: never considereth all the while, that the same faculty of the minde is framed by nature to concupiscence and repentance both: to be angrie and to feare: enclined to commit some foule and dishonest fact, by the allurement of pleasure, and contrariwise restrained from the same for feare of paine. As for lust, feare, and all such like passi­ons, they are no other (say they) but perverse opinions and corrupt judgements not arising and engendred in any one part of the soule by it selfe, but spread over that which is the chiefe and principall, to wit, reason and understanding: where of they be the inclinations, assensions, mo­tions, and in one word, certaine operations, which in the turning of an hand be apt to change 50 and passe from one to another: much like unto the sudden braids, starts and runnings to and fro of little children, which how violent soever they be and vehement, yet by reason of their weaknesse are but slippery, unstedfast and unconstant.

But these assertions and oppositions of theirs, are checked and refuted by apparant evidence and common sense: For what man is he that ever felt in himselfe a change of his lust and con­cupiscence into judgement: and contrariwise an alteration of his judgement into lust: neither doth the wanton lover cease to love when he doth reason with himselfe and conclude, That such [Page 72] love is to be repressed, and that he ought to strive and fight against it: neither doth he then give over reasoning and judging, when being overcome through weaknesse, he yeeldeth himselfe prisoner and thrall to lust: but like as when by advertisement of reason he doth resist in some sort a passion arising, yet the same doth still tempt him: so likewise when he is conquered and overcome therewith, by the light of the same reason at that verie instant, he seeth and knoweth that he sinneth and doth amisse: so, that neither by those perturbations is reason lost and aboli­shed; nor yet by reason is he freed and delivered from them: but whiles he is tossed thus to and fro, he remaineth a neuter in the mids, or rather participating in common of them both. As for those who are of opinion, that one while the principall part of our soule is lust and concu­piscence: and then anon that it doth resist & stand against the same: are much like unto them, 10 who imagine & say, that the hunter & the wild beast be not twaine, but one bodie, chaunging it selfe, one while into the forme of an hunter, and another time, taking the shape of a savage beast: For both they in a manifest and apparant matter should seeme to be blind and see nothing: and also these beare witnesse and depose against their owne sense, considering that they finde and seele in themselves really not a mutation or chaunge of one onely thing, but a sensible strife and sight of two things together within them. But heere they come upon us againe and object in this wise. How commeth it to passe then (say they) that the power and facultie in man which doth deliberate and consult is not likewise double (being oftentimes distracted, carried, and drawen to contrarie opinions, as it is, namely, touching that which is profitable and expedient) but is one still and the same? True, we must confesse, that divided it seemeth to be: But this com­parison 20 doth not hold, neither is the event and effect alike: for that part of our soule wherein prudence and reason is seated, fighteth not with it selfe, but using the helpe of one and the same facultie, it handleth divers arguments, or rather being but one power of discoursing it is emploi­ed in sundry subjects and matters different: which is the reason that there is no dolor and griefe at one end of those reasonings and discourses which are without passion; neither are they that consult forced (as it were) to hold one of those contrarie parts against their minde and judge­ment; unlesse peradventure it so fall out, that some affection lie close to one part or other, as if a man should secretly and under hand lay somewhat besides in one of the balances or skales, against reason for to weigh it downe. A thing (I assure you) that many times falleth out: and then it is not reason that is poised against reason; but either ambition, emulation, favour, jea­lousie, 30 feare, or some secret passion, making semblance as if in shew of speeches, two rea­sons were at varience and differed one from another. As may appeere by these verses in Homer:

Likewise in another Poët:

And verily in determining of controversies betweene man and man in their contracts and suits of law, these passions comming betweene, are they, that make the longest delaies, & be the grea­test enimies of expedition and dispatch: like as in the counsels of kings and princes, they that speake in favour of one partie and for to win grace, doe not upon any reason of two sentences encline to the one, but they accomodate themselves to their affectiō, even against the regard of utility & profit. And this is the cause that in those States which be called Aristocraties, that is to say, governed by a Senate or Counsel of the greatest men: the Magistrates who sit in judgemēt, will not suffer Oratours & Advocates at the Barre to moove affections in all their Pleas: for in Truth, let not the discourse of reason be impeached and hindered by some passion, it will of it selfe tend directly to that which is good and just. But in case there do arise a passion betweene, 50 to crosse the same, then you shal see pleasure and displeasure to raise a combat and dissension, to encounter that which by consultation would have beene judged and determined. For other­wise, how commeth it to passe that in Philosophicall discourses and disputations, a man shall never see it otherwise, but that without any dolor and griefe, some are turned and drawen often­times by others into their opinions, and subscribe thereto willingly? Nay even Aristotle him­selfe, Democritus also and Chrysippus have beene knowen to retract and recant some points, which before time they held, and that without any trouble of mind, without griefe and remorse, [Page 73] but rather with pleasure and contentment of heart: because in that speculative or contem­plative part of the soule, which is given to knowledge and learning onely, there raigne no passi­ons to make resistance, insomuch as the brutish part being quiet and at repose, loveth not curi­ously to entermedle in these and such like matters: By which meanes it hapneth, that the rea­son hath no sooner a sight of trueth, but willingly it enclineth thereto, and doth reject untruth and falsitie: for that there lieth in it and in no other part else, that power and facultie to beleeve and give assent one way, as also to be perswaded for to alter opinion and goe another way. Whereas contrariwise, the counsels and deliberations of worldly affaires, judgements also, and arbitriments, being for the most part full of passions, make the way somewhat difficult for rea­son to passe, and put her to much trouble. For in these cases, the sensuall and unreasonable part 10 of the soule is ready to stay and stop her course; yea and to fright her from going forward, mee­ting her either with the object of pleasure; or else casting in her way stumbling blocks of feare, of paine, of lusts and desires. And verily the deciding and judgement of this disputation lieth in the sense, which feeleth aswell the one as the other, and is touched with them both: For say that the one doth surmount and hath the victorie, it doth not therefore defeit utterly and destroy the other; but drawen it is thereto perforce, and making resistance the while. As for example, the wanton and amorous person when he checketh and reprooveth himselfe therefore, useth the discourse of reason against the said passion of his; yet so, as having them both, actually sub­sisting together in the soule: much like as if with his hand he repressed and kept downe the one part, enflamed with an hot fit of passion, and yet feeling within himselfe both parts, and those 20 actually in combat one against the other. Contrariwise, in those consultations, disputes, and inquisitions which are not passionate, and wherein these motions of the brutish part have no­thing to do, such I meane as those be especially of the contemplative part of the soule: if they be equall and so continue, there ensueth no determinat judgement and resolution: but a doubt remaineth, as if it were a certaine pause or stay of the understanding, not able to proceed farther, but abiding in suspense betweene two contrarie opinions. Now if it chance to encline unto one of them, it is because the mightier hath overweighed the other & annulled it, yet so, as it is not displeased or discontent, no nor contesteth obstinately afterwards against the received opi­nion. To be short, & to conclude all in one generall word; where it seemeth that one discourse and reason is contrarie unto another; it argueth not by and by a conceit of two divers subjects, 30 but one alone in sundrie apprehensions and imaginations. Howbeit, whensoever the brutish and sensuall part is in a conflict with reason, and the same such that it can neither vanquish, nor be vanquished without some sense of grievance: then incontinently this battell divideth the soule in twaine, so as the warre is evident and sensible. And not onely by this fight a man may know how the source and beginning of these passions differeth from that fountaine of reason: but no lesse also by the consequence that followeth thereupon. For seeing that possible it is for a man to love one childe that is ingenuous and towardly disposed to vertue: as also affect ano­ther as well, who is ill given and dissolute: considering also that one may use anger unjustly against his owne children or parents: and another contrariwise justly in the defence of children or parents against enemies and tyrants. Like as in the one there is perceived a manifest com­bat 40 and resistance of passion against reason; so in the other, there may be seene as evident a yeelding and obeisance thereof, suffering it selfe to be directed thereby, yea and willingly run­ning and offering her assistance and helping hand. To illustrate this by a familiar example, it hapneth otherwhiles, that an honest man espouseth a wife according to the lawes, with this in­tention onely to cherish and keepe her tenderly, yea and to companie with her duly, and accor­ding to the lawes of chastitie and honestie: howbeit afterwards in tract of time, and by long continuance and conversing together, which hath bred in his heart the affection of love, he per­ceiveth by discourse of reason, and findeth in himselfe that he loveth her more deerely and en­tirely, than he purposed at the first. Semblably, yoong scholars having met with gentle and kinde masters, at the beginning, follow and affect them in a kinde of zeale, for the benefit onely 50 that they reape by them. Howbeit afterwards in processe of time, they fall to love them; and so in stead of familiar and daily disciples, they become their lovers, and are so called. The same is usually to be seene in the behaviour and carriage of men toward good magistrates in cities, neighbours also, kinsfolke and allies: For they begin acquaintance one with another, after a ci­vill sort onely, by way of dutie or necessitie and use: but afterwards by little and little ere they be aware, they grow into an affectionate love of them, namely, when reason doth concurre, per­swading [Page 74] & drawing unto it that part of the mind which is the seat of passions and affections. As for that Poet whosoever he was, that first wrate this sentence,

Doth he not plainely shew that he hath found in himselfe by experience oftentimes, that even this affection by meanes of lingring delay, and putting off from time to time, hath put him by the benefit of good opportunities, and hindred the execution of many brave affaires? Vnto these proofes and alle gations precedent, the Stoikes being forced to yeeld, in regard they be so 10 cleere and evident: yet for to make some way of evasion and escape, they call shame, bashful­nesse; pleasure, joy; and feare, warinesse or circumspection. And I assure you, no man could justly finde fault with these disguisements of odious things with honest termes: if so be they would attribute unto these passions the said names when they be raunged under the rule of rea­son, and give them their owne hatefull termes indeed, when they strive with reason and violent­ly make resistance. But when convinced by the teares which they shed, by trembling and qua­king of their joints, yea by chaunge of colour going and comming; in stead of naming Dolour and Feare directly, come in with (I wot not what) pretie devised termes of Morsures, Contra­ctions or Conturbations: also when they would cloke and extenuate the imperfection of other passions, by calling lust a promptitude or forwardnes to a thing: it seemeth, that by a flourish of 20 fine words, they devise shifts, evasions, and justifications, not philosophicall but sophisticall. And yet verily they themselves againe do terme those joies, those promptitudes of the will, and warie circumspections by the name of Eupathies, i. good affections and not of Apathies, that is to say, Impassibilities: wherein they use the words aright and as they ought. For then is it truly called Eupathie, i. a good affection, when reason doth not utterly abolish the passion, but guideth and ordereth the same well in such as be discreet and temperate. But what befalleth unto vicious and dissolute persons? Surely, when they have set downe in their judgement and resolution, to love father and mother as tenderly as one lover may another, yet they are not able to performe so much. Mary say, that they determine to affect a courtisan or a flatterer, presently they can finde in their hearts to love such most deerely. Moreover, if it were so, that passion and judge­ment 30 were both one, it could not otherwise be, so soone as one had determined that he ought to love or hate, but that presently love or hate would follow thereupon, But now it falleth out clean contrarie; for that the passion as it accordeth well with some judgements and obeieth; so it re­pugneth with others, and is obstinate and disobedient: whereupon it is, that themselves enfor­ced thereto by the truth of the thing, do affirme and pronounce that every judgement is not a passion, but that onely, which stirreth up and mooveth a strong and vehement appetite to a thing: confessing thereby, no doubt, that one thing it is in us which judgeth, and another thing that suffereth, that is to say, which receiveth passions: like as that which moveth, and that which is mooved be divers. Certes, even Chrysippus himselfe, defininig in many places what is Pati­ence and what is Continency, doth avouch, That they be habitudes, apt and fit to obey and fol­low 40 the choise of reason: whereby he sheweth evidently that by the force of truth, he was driven to confesse and avow, That there is one thing in us which doth obey and yeeld, and another which being obeied, is yeelded unto, and not obeied, is resisted.

Furthermore, as touching the Stoicks, who hold, That all sinnes and faults be equall, neither wil this place, nor the time now serve to argue against them, whether in other points they swerve from the trueth: howbeit, thus much by the way I dare be bolde to say, That in most things they will be found to repugne reason, even against apparent and manifest evidence. For according to their opinion, euery passion or perturbation is a fault, and whosoever grieve, feare or lust, do sinne: but in those passions great difference, there is seene, according to more or lesse: for who would ever be so grosse, as to say, that Dolons feare was equall to the feare of Ajax? who as Ho­mer 50 writeth,

or compare the sorrow of King Alexander, who would needs have killed himselfe for the death [Page 75] of Clytus, to that of Plato for the death of Socrates? For dolours and griefs encrease exceedingly when they grow upon occasion of that which hapneth besides all reason; like as any accident, which falleth out beyond our expectation, is more grievous, and breedeth greater anguish than that whereof areason may be rendered, and which a man might suspect to follow. As for ex­ample, if he who ever expected to fee his sonne advanced to honour, and living in great repura­tion among men, should heare say that he were in prison, and put to all maner of torture, as Par­meno was advertised of his sonne Philotas. And who will ever say, that the anger of Nicocreon against Anaxarchus, was to be compared with that of Magas against Philemon, which arose up­on the same occasion, for that they both were spightfully reviled by them in reprochful termes; for Nicocreon caused Anaxarchus to be braid in a morter with yron pestles: whereas Magas 10 commanded the Executioner to lay a sharpe naked sword upon the necke of Philémon, and so to let him go without doing him any more harme. And therefore it is, that Plato named anger the sinewes of the soule, giving us thereby to understand, that they might be stretched by bitter­nesse, and let slake by mildnesse. But the Stoicks, for to avoid and put backe these objections and such like, denie that these stretchings and vehement fits of passions be according to judge­ment, for that it may faile and erre many waies: saying, they be certaine pricks or stings, con­tractions, diffusions or dilatations, which in proportion and according to reason, may be grea­ter or lesse. Certes, what variety there is in judgement, it is plaine and evident. For some there be that deeme povertie not to be ill: others holde, that it is very ill: and there are againe, who account it the worst thing in the world; insomuch as to avoid it, they could be content to throw 20 themselves headlong from high rocks into the sea. Also you shall have those, who reckon death to be evill, in that onely it depriveth us of the fruition of many good things: others there be, who thinke and say as much but it is in regard of the eternall torments & horrible punishments that be under the ground in hell. As for bodily health, some love it no otherwise than a thing a­greeable to nature and profitable withall: others take it to be the soveraigne good in the world, as without which they make no reckoning of riches, of children,

Nay, they let not in the end to thinke and say, That vertue it serveth in no stead, and avai­leth nought, unlesse it be accompanied with good health: whereby it appeareth, that as touch­ing 30 judgement, some erre more, some lesse. But my meaning is not now to dispute against this evasion of theirs. Thus much onely I purpose to take for mine advantage out of their owne con­fession, in that themselves do grant, That the brutish and sensuall part, according to which, they say that passions be greater and more violent, is different from iudgement: and howsoever they may seeme to contest and cavill about words and names, they grant the substance and the thing it selfe in question, joining with those who mainteine that the reasonlesse part of the soule which enterteineth passions, is altogether different from that whcih is able to discourse, reason and judge. And verily Chrysppus in those books which he entituled, Of Anomologie, after he hed written and taught, that angenis blinde, and many times will not permit a man to see those things which be plaine and apparent, and as often casteth a darke mist over that which he hath 40 already perfectly learned and knowen; proceedeth forward a little further: For (quoth he) the passions which arise, drive out and chase forth all discourse of reason, and such things as were judged and determined otherwise against them, urging it still by force unto contrary actions. Then he useth the testimonie of Menander the Poet, who in one place writeth thus, by way of exclamation:

The same Chrysippus also going on still: It being so (quoth he) that a reasonable creature is by nature borne and given to use reason in all things, and to be governed thereby: yet notwith­standing we reject and cast it behinde us, being over-ruled by another more violent motion that carieth us away. In which words, what doth he else but confesse even that which hapneth [Page 76] upon the dissention betweene affection and reason? For it were a meere ridiculous mockerie in deed, as Plato saith, to affirme that a man were better & worse than himselfe: or that he were able now to master himselfe, & anon ready to be mastered by himselfe, and how were it possible that the same man should be better & worse than himselfe, and at once both master and servant, un­lesse every one were naturally in some sort double, and had in him somewhat better and some­what worse? And verily by that meanes, he that hath the worse part, obedient to the better, hath powre over himselfe, yea, and better than himselfe: whereas he that suffreth the brutish and unreasonable part of his soule to command and go before, so as the better and more no­ble part doth follow, and is serviceable unto it, he no doubt is worse than himselfe: he is (I say) incontinent or rather impotent, and hath no power over himselfe, but disposed contrary to na­ture. 10 For according to the course and ordinance of nature, meet and fit it is that reason being divine and heavenly, should command and rule that which is sensuall and voide of reason: which as it doth arise and spring out of the very bodie, so it resembleth it, as participating the properties and passions thereof, yea and naturally is full of them, as being deepely concorpo­rate and throughly mixed therewith: As it may appeere by all the motions which it hath, ten­ding to no other things but those that be materiall and corporall, as receiving their augmenta­tions and diminutions from thence, (or to say more properly) being stretched out and let slacke more or lesse, according to the mutations of the body. Which is the cause that young per­sons are quicke, prompt, and audacious rash: also, for that they be full of bloud, and the same hot, their lusts and appetites, are likewise firy, violent and furious: whereas contrariwise in old 20 folke because the source of concupiscence seated about the liver is after a sort quenched, yea and become weake and feeble: reason is more vigorous and predominant in them: as much as the sensuall and passionate part, doth languish and decay together with the body. And verily this is that which doth frame and dispose the nature of wilde beasts to divers passions: For it is not long of any opinions good or bad which arise in them, that some of them are strong, ven­terous and fearelesse, yea and ready to withstand any perils presented before them: others againe be so surprised with feare and fright, that they dare not stirre or do any thing: but the force and power which lieth in the bloud, in the spirits and in the whole bodie, is that which causeth this diversitie of passions, by reason that the passible part growing out of the flesh as from a roote, doeth bud soorth and bring with it a qualitie and pronenesse semblable. But 30 in man that there is a sympathie and fellow mooving of the body, together with the motions of the passions, may be prooved by the pale colour, the red flushing of the face, the trembling of the joints, and panting and leaping of the heart in feare and anger: And againe on the con­trary side by the dilations of the arteries, heart and colour, in hope and expectation of some pleasures. But when as the divine spirit and understanding of man doeth moove of it selfe alone without any passion, then the body is at repose and remaineth quiet, not communicating nor participating any whit with the operation of the minde and intendement, no more than it being disposed to studie upon any Mathematicall proposition or other science speculative, it calleth for the helpe and assistance of the unreasonable part: By which it is manifest, that there be two distinct parts in us, different in facultie and power one from another. In summe, Go 40 through the universall world, althings (as they themselves affirme, and evident experience doth convince) are governed and ordred, some by a certeine habitude: others by nature: some by sensuall and unreasonable soule: others by that which hath reason and understanding. Of all which man hath his part at once, yea, and was borne naturally with these differences above said. For, conteined he is by an habitude: nourished by nature: reason & understanding he useth: he hath his portion likewise of that which is unreasonable and inbred; there is together with him the source and primitive cause of passions, as a thing necessarie for him, neither doth it enter into him from without: in which regard it ought not to be extirped utterly, but hath neede onely of ordering and government: whereupon Reason dealeth not after the Thracian maner, nor like king Lycurgus, who commanded all vines without exception to be cut downe, because 50 wine caused drunkennes: it rooteth not out (I say) all affections indifferently one with another, the profitable as well as the hurtfull: but (like unto the good gods [...] and Hemorides, who teach us to order plants that they may fructifie, and to make them gentle which were sa­vage) to cut away that which groweth wilde and ranke, to save all the rest and so to order and manage the same, that it may serve for good use. For neither do they shed and spill their wine upon the floure, who are afraid to be drunke, but delay the same with water: nor those who feare the violence of a passion, do take it quite away, but rather temper and qualifie the same: [Page 77] like as folke use to breake horses and oxen from their flinging out with their heeles, their stiffe­nes & curstnes of the head & stubburnes in receiving the bridle or the yoke, but do not restreine them of other motions in going about their worke and doing their deed. And even so veri­ly, reason maketh good use of these passions, when they be well tamed and brought (as it were) to hand: without over weakning or rooting out cleane, that part of the soule which is made for to second reason, and do it good service: For as Pindarus saith,

And I assure you, the entertainment of these passions and their breed, serve in farre better stead, when they doe assist reason and give an edge (as it were) and vigour unto vertues, than the beasts above named in their kind. Thus moderate ire doth second valour and fortitude: hatred of wicked persons helpeth the execution of Iustice: and indignation is just and due unto those, who without any merit or desert enjoie the felicitie of this life: who also for that their heart is puffed up with foolish arrogancie, and enflamed with disdainfull pride and insolence in regard of their prosperitie, have need to be taken downe and cooled. Neither is a man able by any meanes (would he never so faine) to separate from true friendship, naturall indulgence, and kind affection: nor from humanitie, commiseration and pitie; ne yet from perfect benevo­lence and good will, the fellowiship in joy and sorrow. Now if it be true (as it is indeed) that 20 they do grossely erre, who would abolish all love, because of foolish and wanton love: surely they do amisse, who for covertousnes sake and greedines of money, do blame and condemne quite all other appetites and desires. They do (I say) asmuch as those, who would sorbid run­ning altogether, because a man may stumble and catch a fall as he runneth: or debarre shooting for that we may overshoot and misse the marke: or to condemne hearing of musicke, because a discord or jarre is offensive to the eare. For like as in sounds, musicke maketh an accord and har­monie, not by taking away the loud and base notes: And in our bodies Physicke procureth health, not by destroying heat and cold, but by a certaine temperature and mixture of them both in good proportion: Even so it fareth in the soule of man, wherein reason hath the pre­dominance and victorie: namely, when by the power thereof, the passions, perturbations and 30 motions are reduced into a kind of moderation and mediocritie. For no doubt excessive sor­row and heavines, immeasurable joy and gladnesse in the soule, may be aptly compared to a swelling and inflammation in the body, but neither joy nor sorrow simply in it selfe. And there­fore Homer in this wise sentence of his

doth not abolish feare altogether, but the extremitie thereof; to the end, that a man should not thinke that either valour is desperate follie, or confidence audacious temeritie. And therefore in pleasures and delights, we ought likewise to cut off immoderate lust: as also in taking punish­ment, extreme hatred of malefactours. He that can do so, shall be reputed in the one not indo­lent, 40 but temperate, and in the other not bitter and cruell, but just and righteous. Whereas let passions be rid cleane away (if that were possible to be done) our reason will be found in many things more dull and idle: like as the pilot and master of a ship hath little to do, if the winde be laid and no gale at all stirring. And verily (as it should seeme) wise Law-makers, seeing this well enough, have with great policie given occasion in cities and common-wealths of Ambition and Emulation among citizens one with another: and in the field against enemies devised to excite the courage of souldiours, and to whet their ire and manhood by sound of trumpets, fifes, diums, and other instruments. For not onely in Poetrie (as Plato saith verie well) he that is in­spired and (as it were) ravished with the divine instinct of the Muses, wil make a rediculous foole of him, who otherwise is an excellent Poët, and his crafts-master as having learned the exquisite 50 knowledge of the art: but also in battels, the heat of courage set on fire with a certaine divine inspiration is invincible and cannot be withstood. This is that martiall furie, which (as Homer saith) the gods do infuse or inspire rather into warlike men:

And againe,

As if to the discourse of reason they had adjoined passion as a pricke to incite, and a chariot to set it forward. Certes, even these verie Stoicks with whom now we argue, and who seeme to re­ject all passions, we may see oftentimes, how they stirre up yoong men with praises, and as often rebuke them with sharpe admonitions and severe reprehensions. Whereof there must needs ensue of the one part pleasure, and of the other part displeasure. For surely checkes and fault­findings, strike a certaine repentance and shame: of which two, the former is comprised under sorrow, and the latter under feare: and these be the meanes that they use principally to chastice and correct withall. Which was the reason that Diogenes upon a time, when he heard Plato so highly praised and extolled. And what great and woorthy matter (quoth he) finde you in that 10 man, who having been a Philosopher so long & taught the precepts thereof, hath not in all this time greeved and wounded the heart of any one person? For surely the Mathematicall sciences a man cannot so properly call the eares or handles of Philosophie (to use the words of Xenocra­tes) as he may affirme that these affections of yoong men, to wit, bashfulnesse, desire, repen­tance, pleasure and paine are their handles, whereof reason and law together taking hold by a discreet apt and holesome touch, bring a yoong man speedily and effectually into the right way. And therefore the Lacedaemonian schoolemaster and governour of children said verie well, when he professed, that he would bring to passe that the child whom he tooke into his tui­tion, should joy in honest things, and grieve in those that were fould and dishonest. Then which there cannot possibly be named a more woorthy or commendable end of the liberall education 20 and bringing up of a yoong youth well descended.

OF VERTVE AND VICE.

IT seemeth, and commonly it is thought, that they be the garments which do heat a man; and yet of themselves they neither doe heat nor bring any heat with them: for take any of them apart by it selfe, you shall finde it colde; which is the reason that men being verie hote, and in a fit of a fever, love often to change their clothes, for to coole and refresh their bodies. But the trueth is this, Looke 50 what heat a man doth yeeld from himselfe, the clothes or garments that cover the body do keepe in the same, and unite close together and being thus included and held in, suffer it not to evapotate, breathe out, and vanish away. The same errour in the state of this life, hath deceived many man, who imagine that if they may dwell in stately and gorgeous great houses, be attended upon with a number of servants, retaine a sort of slaves, and can gather toge­ther huge summes of golde and silver, then they shall live in joy and pleasure: wheteas in verie [Page 79] sooth, the sweete and joifull life proceedeth not from any thing without. But contrariwise, when a man hath those goodly things about him, it is himselfe that addeth a pleasure and grace unto them, even from his owne nature and civill behaviour, composed by morall vertue within him, which is the very fountaine and lively spring of all good contentment.

Semblably, riches are more acceptable, glorie hath the better and more shining lustre, yea, and authoritie carieth the greater grace, if the inward joy of the soule be joined therewith: For surely men doe endure povertie, exile and banishment out of their owne countries, yea, and beare the burden of olde age willingly and with more ease, according as their maners be milde, 10 and the minde disposed to meeknesse. And like as sweet odours, and Aromaticall perfumes, give a pleasant smell unto thred-bare and ragged clothes; but contrariwise, the rich robe of An­chyses yeelded from under it stincking matter and corrupt blood; which as the Poet saith,

Even so, with vertue, any sort of life, and all maner of living is pleasant & void of sorow: where­as contrariwise, vice causeth those things which otherwise seemed great, honourable, and mag­nificent, to be odious, lothsome and unwelcome to those that have them, if (I say) it be mingled therewith, according to the testimonie of these vulgar verses:

And yet one may with ease be rid and divorced from such a curst and shrewd wife, if he be a man in deed, and not a bond-slave; but for thine owne vice, no meanes will serve to exempt thee from it. It is not enough to command it to be gone, by sending a little script or bill of divorce­ment, and to thinke thereby to be delivered from troubles, and so to live alone in quiet and re­pose. For it cleaveth close within the ribbes, it sticketh fast in the very bowels, it dwelleth there 30 both night and day,

A troublesome companion it is upon the way, by reason of arrogancy and presumption: a cost­ly and sumptuous guest at the table for gluttonie and gourmandise: an unpleasant and comber­some bedfellow in the night, in regard of thoughts, cares and jelousies which breake the sleepe, or trouble the same with fantasies. For whiles men lie asleepe, the bodie is at rest and repose; but the minde all the while is disquieted and affrighted with fearefull dreames and tumultuous visions, by reason of superstitious feare of the gods,

saith one. And euen so do other vices serve men: to wit, Envie, Feare, Wrath, Wanton love, and Vnbridled lust. For in the day time, vice looking out, and composing it selfe somewhat un­to others abroad, is somewhat ashamed of herselfe, and covereth her passions; she giveth not herselfe wholly to her motions and perturbations, but many times doth strive againe and make resistance: but in sleepe, being without the danger of lawes and the opinion of the world, being farre remooved (as it were) from feare and shame: then it setteth all lusts aworke, then it quicke­neth and raiseth up all leaudnesse, and then it displaieth all lascivious wantonnesse. It tempteth (as Plato saith) a man to have carnall dealing with his owne mother, and to eat of forbidden and unlawfull meats: there is no villanie that it forbeareth; executing (so far forth as it is able) 50 all abomination, and hath the fruition thereof, if it be but by illusions and fantasticall dreames, which end not in any pleasure, nor accomplishment of concupiscence, but are powerfull onely to excite, stirre, and provoke still the fits of secret passions and maladies of a corrupt heart. Wherein lieth then, the pleasure and delight of sinne, if it be so, that in no place nor at any time it be void of pensivenesse, care and griefe? if it never have contentment, but alwaies in molesta­tion and trouble, without repose? As for carnall delights and fleshly pleasures, the good com­plexion and sound constitution of an healthfull bodie, giveth thereby meanes, place, opportu­nity [Page 80] and breeding. But in the soule it is not possible that there should bee engendred anie mirth, joy and contentment, unlesse the first foundation be laied in peace of conscience, and tranquillitie of spirit, void of feare, and enjoying a setled calme in all assurance and confidence, without any shew of tempest toward. For otherwise, suppose that some hope doe smile upon a man; or say, that delight tickle a little; the same anon is troubled, and all the sport is marred by some carefull cogitation breaking forth: like as the object and concurrence of one rocke trou­bleth and overthroweth all, though the water and weather both be never so calme.

Now gather gold and spare not by heapes, rake and scrape together masses of silver, builde faire, gallant and stately walking places, replenish all thy house with slaves, and a whole citie with debtours: unlesse withall thou doe allay the passions of thy minde; un­lesse 10 thou stay and appease thy insatiable lust and desire; unlesse thou free and deliver thy selfe from all feare and carking cares: thou dost as much as streine wine, or make Ipo­cras for one that is sicke of a feaver, give honie to a cholericke person diseased with the ra­ging motion of choler, offer meats and viands to those that be sicke of the stomachicall flux, continuall laske, ulceration of the guts and bloudy flix, who neither take pleasure therein, nor are the better but the woorse rather a great deale for them. See you not how sicke folkes are of­fended, and their stomacks rise at the most fine, costly and deintiest meats that be offred unto them? how they spit them forth againe, and will none, though they be forced upon them? And yet afterwards, when the bodie is reduced againe into good temperature: when pure spirits and good fresh bloud is engendred, and when the naturall heate is restored and become familiar 20 and kind: then they rise up on their feete to their meat, then their stomacks serve to eate full sa­vorly of course bread with cheese or cresses, and therein they take great pleasure and content­ment: The like disposition in the minde doth reason worke. Then and never before shalt thou be pleased and at peace with thy selfe, when thou hast once learned what is good and honest in­deed: In povertie thou shalt live deliciously like a king: or in a private and quiet state sequestred from civill and publike affaires, thou shalt live as well as they who have the conduct of great armies, and governe the common-weale. When thou hast studied Philosophie and profited therein, thou shalt never lead a life in discontentment, but shalt learne how to away with any estate and course of life, and therein find no small joy & harts ease. Thy riches thou wilt rejoice in, because thou shalt have better meanes to do good unto all men: In povertie likewise thou 30 wilt take joy in regard thou shalt have fewer cares to trouble thee: Glorie will turne to thy so­lace, when thou shalt see thy selfe so honoured: and thy low estate and obscure condition will be no lesse comsort, for that thou shalt be safe and secured from envie.

THAT VERTUE MAY BE taught and learned.

WE dispute of vertue, and put in question, whether Prudence, Iu­stice, Loialtie and Honestie may be taught or no? And do we ad­mire then the works of Oratours, Sailers and Shipmasters, Archi­tects, Husbandmen and an infinite number of other such which be extant? Whereas of good men we have nothing but their bare and 10 simple names, as if they were Hippo-Centaures, Gyants or Cyclopes: and mervaile we that of vertuous actions which be entier, perfect, and unblameable, none can be found: ne yet any maners so com­posed according to dutie, but that they be tainted with some passi­ons and vicious perturbations? yea and if it happen that nature of her selfe bring foorth some good and honest actions, the same straightwaies are darkened, corrupted and in a maner marred, by certeine strange mixtures of contrarie matters that creepe into them, like as when among good corne there grow up weeds and wilde bushes that choke the same; or when some kinde and gentle fruit is cleane altered by savage nourishment. Men learne to sing, to daunce, to read and write, to till the ground, and to ride horses, they 20 learne likewise to shew themselves, to do on their apparell decently; they are taught to wait at cup and trencher, to give drinke at the table, to season and dresse meate: and none of all this can they skill to performe and do handsomely, if they be not trained thereto: and yet shall that, for which these and such like qualities they learne, to wit, good life and honest conversation, be reckoned a meere casuall thing, comming by chance and fortune, and which can neither be taught nor learned? Oh good sirs, what a thing is this? In saying, That vertue cannot be taught, we denie withall that it is, or hath any being. For if it be true, that the learning of it, is the ge­neration and breeding thereof, certes he that hindereth the one disanulleth the other: and in denying that it may be taught, we graunt that no such thing there is at all: And yet as Plato saith, for the necke of a Lute not made in proportion to the rest of the bodie, there was never 30 knowen one brother go to warre with another, nor a friend to quarrell with his friend, ne yet two neighbour cities to fall out and mainteine deadly feud, to the interchangeable working and suffring of those miseries and calamities which follow open warre. Neither can any man come forth and say, that by occasion of an accent (as for example, whether the word Telchines should be pronounced with the accent over the second syllable of no) there arose sedition and dissen­tion in any city; or debate in a house betweene man and wife, about the warpe and woufe of any webbe: Howbeit never man yet would take in hand to weare a peece of cloth, nor handle a booke, nor play upon the lute or harpe, unlesse he had learned before; for albeit he were not like to susteine any great losse and notall dammage thereby, yet he would feare to be mocked and laughed to scorne for his labor, in which case as Heraclitus saith, it were better for a man to 40 conceale his owne ignorance: and may such an one thinke then, that he could order a house well, rule a wife, and behave himselfe as it becommeth in mariage, beare migistracie, or governe a common weale as he ought, being never bound and brought up to it? Diogenes espying upon a time a boy eating greedily, and unmanerly gave his master or Tutour a good cuffe on the eare: and good reason he had so to do, as imputing the fault rather to him, who had not taught, than to the boy, who had not learned better manners. And is it so indeed? ought they of ne­cessitie, who would be manerly at the table, both in putting hand to a dish of meat, and taking the cup with a good grace, or as Aristophanes saith,

to be taught even from their infancie. And is it possible that the same should know to be­have themselves in wedlocke, how to manage the affaires of State, how to converse among men, how to beare office without touch and blame, unlesse they have learned first how to cary them­selves one toward another? Aristippus answered upon a time, when one said unto him, And are you sit every where? I should (quoth he, laughing merily) cast away the fare for feriage, which I pay unto the mariner, if I were every where. And why might not a man say likewise, If children [Page 82] be not the better for their teaching, the salarie is lost which men bestow upon their Masters and Teachers. But wee see that they taking them into their governance presently from their nour­ces, like as they did forme their limmes and joints featly with their hands, do prepare and frame their maners accordingly, & set them in the right way to vertue. And to this purpose answered very wisely a Laconian Schoole-master to one who demanded of him, what good he did to the childe of whom he had the charge? Mary (quoth he) I make him to take joy and pleasure in those things that be honest. And to say a trueth, these teachers and governours instruct chil­dren to holde up their heads straight as they go in the street, and not to beare it forward: also, not to dip into sauce, but with one finger: not to take bread or fish but with twaine: to rubbe or scratch after this or that maner: and thus and thus to trusse and holde up their clothes. What 10 shall we say then to him, who would make us beleeve that the Art of Physicke professeth to scoure the morphew, or heale a whit-flaw: but not to cure a pleurisie, fever, or the phrensie? And what differeth he from them, who holde that there be schooles and rules to teach petties and lit­tle children how to be manerly, and demeane themselves in small matters, but as for great, im­portant and absolute things, it must be nothing els but use and custome, or els meere chance and fortune that doth effect them? For like as he were ridiculous, and worthy to be laughed at, who should say, that no man ought to lay hand upon the oare for to row, but he that hath beene prentise to it; but sit at the sterne and guide the helme he may, who was never taught it: euen so, he, who mainteineth, that in some inferiour arts there is required apprentisage, but for the at­tainining of vertue none at all, deserveth likewise to be mocked. And verily, he should doe con­trary 20 unto the Scythians: For they, as Herodot us writeth, use to put out the eies of theirslaves only, to the end that being blinde, they might turne round about with their milke, & so stirre and shake it. But he forsooth putteth the eie of reason into these base and inferior arts, which are no better than servants waiting upon others; but plucketh it from vertue. Iphtcrates answered con­trariwise, being demanded of Callias the sonne of Chabrias, by way of contempt and derision, in this wise, What are you sit? An Archer? A Targetiere? A man at armes? or a light armeds soul­diour? I am none (quoth he) of all these, but rather one of those who commandeth them all. Well, ridiculous then is he, and very absurd, who would say, There were an art to be taught, of drawing a bowe & shooting, of fighting close at hand being armed at all pieces, of discharging bullets with a sling, or of sitting and riding an horse; but forsooth to leade and conduct an army, 30 there was none at all: as who would say, that feat, were a thing not learned, but comming by chance, I know not how. And yet I must needs say, more sottish and foolish were he, who should hold and affirme that Prudence onely could not be taught, without which no other Arts and Sciences be woorth ought, or availe any whit. That this is true, and that she is alone the guide which leadeth and guideth all other Sciences, Arts and Vertues, giving them every one their due place and honour, and making them profitable to mankinde, a man may know by this, if there were nothing els, That there would be no grace at a feast, though the meat were never so well dressed and served up by skilfull Cooks, though there were proper Escuirs or Shewers to set the dishes upon the boord, Carvers, Tasters, Skinkers, and other Servitours 40 and Waiters enough, unlesse there be some good order observed among the said Ministers, to place and dispose everie thing as it ought. 50

HOW A MAN MAY DISCERNE 20 a flatterer form a friend.

PLato writeth (ô Antiochus Philopappus) that all men do willingly pardon him, who professeth, That he loveth himselfe best: Howbe­it thereby (quoth he) is ingendred in us, this fault and inconveni­ence among may others the greatest: that by this meanes no man can be a just judge of himselfe, but partiall and favourable. For the lover is ordinarily blinded in the thing that he loveth, unlesse he 30 have beene taught, yea and accustomed long before, to affect and esteeme things honest above those that be his owne properly, or in­bred and familiar to him. This is it, that giveth unto a flatterer that large field, under pretence of friendship, where he hath a fort (as it were) commodiously seated, and with the vantage to assaile and endammage us, and that is, Selfe-love: whereby everie man being the first and greatest flatterer of himselfe, he can be verie well content, to admit a stranger to come neere and flatter him, namely, when he thinketh and is well willing withall, to witnesse with him and to confirme that good selfe-conceit and opini­on of his owne. For even he, who is justly reproched to be a lover of Flatterers, loveth himselfe notwithstanding exceeding well: and for that good affection that he hath, is both very willing, 40 yea and fully perswaded also, that all good things are in himselfe: and the desire whereof is not simply, bad, and unlawfull: but the perswasion is it, that is dangerous and slipperie, having need to be restrained with great heed and carefulnesse. Now if Truth be an heavenly thing, and the verie source yeelding all good things (as Plato saith) aswell to the gods as to men: we ought thus to judge, That a flatterer is an enemie to the gods, and principally to Apollo: For oppo­site he is alwaies and contrarie to this precept of his, Know thyselfe: causing a man to be abused and deceived by his owne selfe, yea and to be ignorant of the good and evill things that be in him; in making the good gifts which are in him to be defective & unperfect: but the evill parts incorrigible and such as cannot be reformed. Now if it were so, that flatterie (as the most part of other vices) touched either onely or especially, base, meane, and abject persons, it were perhaps 50 neither so hurtfull, nor so hard to be avoided as it is. But like as wormes breed most of all and soonest in frimme, tender and sweet wood: even so, for the most the part the generous and gen­tle natures, and those mindes that are more ingenuous, honest, amialble, and milde than others, are readiest to receive and nourish the flatterer that hangeth upon him. Moreover, as Simonides was woont to say, that the keeping of an escuirie or stable of horses, followeth not the lampe or oile cruet, but the rich corne fields: that is, it is not for poore men to entertaine great horses, but those rather who are landed men and with their revennewes able to maintaine them: [Page 85] Even so, we see it is ordinarie, that flatterie keepeth not companie nor sorteth with poore folke, or such persons as live obscurely & are of no abilitie: but c̄omonly it is the ruine and decay of great houses, & a maladie incid̄et to mighty States; which oftentimes undoeth & overthroweth whole Monarchies, Realmes, and great Seignories. In which regard it is no small matter, nor a thing that requireth little, or no forecast & providence to search & consider the nature thereof: least being so active and busie as it is, and readie to meddle in everie place (nothing so much) it do no hurt unto friendship, norbring it into obloquie and discredit. For these flatteres re­semble lice for all the world: And why? These vermine we see never haunt those that be dead, but leave and forsake the corps so soone as ever the blood (whereof they were woont to feede) is extinct or deprived of vitall spirit: Semblably, a man shall never see flatterers, so much as ap­proch 10 unto such persons as are in decay, whose state is crackt and credit waxeth coole; but looke where there is the glorie of the world, where there is authoritie and power, thither they flocke, and there they grow: no sooner is there a chaunge of fortune but they sneake and slinke away, and are no more seene. But we ought not to attend so long and stay for this triall, being unpro­fitable, or rather hurtfull and not without some danger: For it goeth verie hard with a man, if at the verie instant and not before, even when he hath most need of friendship, to perceive those to be no friends whom he tooke to be, and namely, when he hath not with him at hand, a good and faithfull friend, to exchange for him that is untrustie, disloyal and counterfeit. For if a man did well, he should be provided before hand of an approoved and tried friend, ere he have neede to employ him, aswell as of current and lawfull money; and not then to make triall of him and 20 finde him faultie, when he is in greatest necessitie and standeth in most need: For we ought not to make proofe with our losse, and finde him to be false to our cost and detriment; but contrari­wise to be skilfull in the meanes of smelling out a flatterer, that we receive no damage by him: For otherwise, that might befall us, which happeneth unto those who for to know the force of deadly poisons, take the assay, and taste first themselves thereof: well may they indeed come to the judgement thereof: but this skill is deerely bought, when they are sure to die for it. And like as we do not commend such; no more can we praise and approove of those, who measure friendship onely by honestie and profit: thinking withall, That such as converse and company with them pleasantly, are straight waies to be attainted as flatterers, no lesse then if they were ta­ken in the very act of flatterie: For surely a friend should not be unpleasant & unsavorie, without 30 any seasoning (as it were) of delightsome qualities: neither is friendship to be accounted vene­rable in this respect, that it is austere or bitter; but even that verie beauty and gravitie that it hath is sweet and desircable, and as the Poet saith,

And not he onely who is in calamitie,

according as Euripides saith, but true amitie addeth nolesse grace, pleasure, and joy unto those that be in prosperitie, than it easeth them of sorrow and griefe who are in adversitie. Evenus was 40 woont to say, that of all pleasant sauce, fire was the best and most effectuall: And even so God having mingled friendship with this life of ours, hath made all things joious, sweete, pleasant and acceptable, where a friend is present and enjoieth his part. For otherwise a man can not devise nor expresse, how and in what sort a flatterer could insilnuate himselfe and creepe into fa­vour, under the colour of pleasure, if he saw that friendship in the owne nature never admitted any thing that was pleasant and delectable. But like as false and counterfeit peeces of gold which will not abide the touch, represent onely the lustre and bright glittering of gold: So a flatterer resembling the sweete and pleasant behaviour of a friend, sheweth himselfe alwaies jocund, mery and delightsome, without crossing at any time. And therefore we ought not pre­sently to suspect all them to be flatterers who are given to praise others: For otherwhiles to 50 commend a man, so it be done in time and place convenient, is a propertie no lesses befitting a friend, than to blame and reprehend: Nay contrariwise, there is nothing so adverse and repug­nant to amitie and societie, than testinesse, thwarting, complaining, and evermore fault-finding: whereas, if a man knoweth the good will of his friend to be ever prest and readie to yeeld due praises, and those in full measure to things well done, he will be are more patiently and in better part another time, his free reprehensions and reproofe for that which is done amisse: for that he is verily perswaded of him that as he was willing ynough to praise, so he was as loth to dis­praise, [Page 86] and therefore taketh all in good woorth. A difficult matter then it is, will some one say, to discerne a flatterer from a friend, seeing there is no difference betweene them, either in doing pleasure, or yeelding praise: for otherwise, we see oftentimes, that in many services, courtesies and kindnesses besides, a flatterer is more readie and forward than a friend. True it is indeed we must needs say: a right hard matter it is to know the one from the other; especially if we speake of a right flatterer indeed, who is his owne crafts-master, and can skill how to handle the matter artificially, and with great cunning and dexteritie: if (I say) we make no reckoning of them for flatterers, as the common people doe, who are these ordinarie smell-feasts, and as ready as flies to light in everie dish: these parasites (I say) whose toong (as one said verie well) will be walking so soone as men have washed their hands, and be readie to sit downe to meat, cogging and soo­thing 10 up their good masters at everie word, who have no honestie at all in them, and whose scurrilitie, profane, and irreligious impuritie, a man shall soone finde with one dish of meat and cup of wine. For surely there was no great need to detect and convince the flatterie of Melan­thius the Parasite and Iester of Alexander Pheraus the Tyrant, who being asked upon a time how Alexander his good Lord and master was murthered, Mary with a thrust (quoth he) of a sword, which went in at his side, and ranne as farre as into my belly: neither of such as a man shall never see to faile, but where there is a good house and plentifull table kept, they will be sure to gather round about it, in such sort as there is no fire nor iron grates, or brasse gates, can keepe them backe, but they will be readie to put their foot under the boord: no nor of those women who in times past were called in Cypres, Colacides. i. Flatteresses; but after they were come to 20 Syria, men named them, Climacides, as one would say, Ladderesses, for that they used to lie along, & to make their backs stepping stooles or ladders as it were for Queenes & Great mens wives to get upon when they would mount into their coatches. Whatkinde of flatterer then is it so hard and yet needfull to beward of? Forsooth, even of him who seemeth none such, and professeth nothing lesse than to flatter: whom a man shall never finde about the kitchin where the good meate is dressed, nor take measuring of shadowes to know how the daie goes, and when it is din­ner or supper time: ne yet see drunken and lying along the ground untowardly, and full like a beast: But for the most part sober he is enough; he loveth to bee a curious Polypragmon; he will have an oare in every boat, and thinks he is to intermedle in all matters; he hath a minde to be privie and partie in all deepe secrets; and in one word he carrieth himselfe like a grave 30 Tragedian, and not as a Comicall or Satyricall player, and under that vision and habit he coun­terfeiteth a friend. For according to the saying of Plato, it is the greatest and most extreame injustice for a man to make semblance of being just when he is not: even so we are to thinke, that flatterie of all others to be most dangerous, which is covert and not apert or professed; which is serious (I say) and not practised by way of jest and sport. And verily such glozing and flatterie as this, causeth men oftentimes to mistrust true friendship indeed, and doth derogate much from the credit thereof: for that in many things it jumpeth so even therewith, unlesse a man take verie good heed and looke narrowly into it. True it is, that Gobrias being runne into a darke and secret roome, together with one of the usurping Tyrants of Persia, called Magi, whom he pursued hard, and at handy gripes strugling, grappling, and wrestling close together, 40 cried out unto Darius comming into the place with a naked sword, and doubting to thrust at the Vsurper, for feare he should runne Gobrias thorough also, Thrust hardly and spare not (quoth he) though you dispatch us both at once. But we who in no wise can allow of that common saying, Let a friend perish, so he take an enemie with him: but are desirous to plucke and part a slatterer from a friend, with whom he is coupled and interlaced by meanes of so many resem­blances: we (I say) have great cause to feare and beware, that we doe not cast and reject from us the good with the bad: or least in pardoning and accepting that which is agreeable and fami­liar unto us, we fall upon that which is hurtfull and dangerous. For like as among wilde seeds of another kind, those that being of the same forme, fashion, and bignes with the graines of wheat are intermingled therewith, a man shall hardly trie out from the rest, for that they will not passe 50 thorough the holes of the sieve, ruddle or trie, if they be narrow; and in case they be large and wide, out goeth the good corne to gether with them; even so it is passing hard to separate flatte­rie from friendship, being so intermedled therewith in all accidents, motions, affaires, dealings, employment and conversation as it is. For considering that a flatterer seeth well ynough, that there is nothing in the world so pleasurable as friendship, nor yeeldeth more contentment unto man than it doth: He windeth himselfe into favour by meanes of pleasure, and wholy is im­ploied to procure mirth and delight. Also for that both grace and commoditie, doth alwaies [Page 87] accompany amitie; in which regard the common Proverbe saith, that a friend is more necessa­rie than either fire or water. Therefore a flatterer is readie to put himselfe forward, and offereth his service with all double diligence, striving in all occasions and businesses to be ever prompt and officious. And because the principall thing that linketh and bindeth friendship sure at the beginning, is the conformitie and likenes of manners, studies, endevours and inclinations, and in one word seeing that to be like affected, and to shew pleasure or displeasure in the same things, is the chiefe matter that knitteth amitie and both combineth, and also keepeth men to­gether, by a certaine mutuall correspondencie in naturall affections: the flatterer knowing so much, composeth his nature (as it were) some unformed matter ready to receive all sorts of im­pressions, studying to frame and accommodate himselfe wholy to all those things that he taketh 10 in hand; yea and to resemble those persons just by way of imitation whom he meaneth to set upon and deceive, as being souple, soft, and pliable, to represent them lively in everie point, so as a man may say of him after this manner,

But the craftiest cast of all other, that he hath, is this, That seeing (as he doth) libertie of speech, (both in trueth, and also according to the opinion and speech of the whole world) to be the pro­per voice of friendship (as a man would say) of some living creature; insomuch, as where there is not this freedome of speaking frankely, there is no true friendship nor generositie in deed. In this point also, he will not seeme to come short, nor leave it behinde for want of imitation; but 20 after the fashion of fine and excellent cookes, who use to serve up tart, bitter and sharpe sauces together with sweet & pleasant meats, for to divert & take away the satietie and fulnesse which soone followeth them. These flatterers also use a certaine kind of plaine and free speech; how­beit, neither syncere and naturall is it, nor profitable, but (as we commonly say) from teeth out­ward, or (as it were) beckening and wincking slightly with the eie under the browes, nottouch­ing the quicke, but tickling aloft onely, to no purpose. Well, in these respects above specified, hardly and with much adoe is a flatterer discovered, and taken in the maner; much like unto those beasts, who by nature have this propertie, To change their colour, and in hue to resemble that bodily matter or place whereon they settle, and which they touch. Seeing then it is so, that he is so apt to deceive folke, and lieth hidden under the likenesse of a friend; our part it is, by un­folding 30 the differences that are so hidden, to turne him out of his masking habit, and being de­spoiled of those colours and habilements that he borroweth of others, for want of his owne (as Plato saith) to lay him naked and open to the eie: let us therefore enter into this discourse, and setch it from the very first beginning.

We have already said, that the originall of friendship among men (for the most part) is our conformitie of nature and inclination, embracing the same customes and maners, loving the same exercises, affecting the same studies, and delighting in the same actions and imploiments: concerning which, these verses well and fitly runne;

The flatterer then, being well aware that it is a thing naturally inbred in us, to delight in those that are like our selves, to converse with them, and to use and love them above all others, ende­voureth first to and formost to draw and approch, yea, and to lodge neere unto him whom he mea­neth to enveagle and compasse, even as if he went about in some great pasture to make toward one beast, whom he purposeth to tame and bring to hand, by little and little joining close unto him, as it were, to be concorporated in the same studies and exercises, in the same affections, 50 emploiments and course of life: and this he doth so long, untill the party whom he laieth for, have given him some advantage to take holde by, as suffering himselfe gently to be touched, clawed, handled and stroked; during which time, he lettethslip no opportunitie to blame those persons, to reproove those things, and courses of life, which he perceiveth the other to hate: contrariwise, to praise and approove all that which he knoweth him to take delight in: and this he doeth not after an ordinary maner and in a meane, but excessively and beyond all measure, with a kinde of admiration and woonder; confirming this love or hatred of his, to a thing, not [Page 88] as if he had received these impressions from some sudden passion, but upon a staied and setled judgement. Which being so: how, and by what different marks shall he be knowen and con­vinced, that he is not the like or the same in deed, but onely a counterfeit of the like and of the same? First, a man must consider well, whether there be an uniforme equalitie in all his intenti­ons and actions or no? whether he continue and persist still, taking pleasure in the same things, and praising the same at all times? whether he compose and direct his life according to one and the same molde and paterne? like as it becommeth a man who is an ingenuous lover of that friendship and conversation which is ever after one maner, and alwaies like it selfe: for such a one in deed is a true friend. But a flatterer contrariwise is one who hath no one permanent seat in his maners and be haviour, nor hath made choise of any life for his owne content, but onely 10 to please another, as framing and applying his actions wholly to the humor of another, is never simple, uniforme, nor like himselfe, but variable and changing alwaies from one forme to ano­ther, much like as water which is powred out of one vessel into another, even as it runneth forth, taketh the forme and fashion of that vessell which receiveth it. And herein he is cleane contra­rie to the ape; for the ape as it should seeme, thinking to counterfeit man, by turning, hop­ping and dauncing as he doth, is quickly caught: but the flatterer, whiles he doth imitate and counterfeit others, doth entice and draw them, as it were, with a pipe or call, into his net, and so beguileth them. And this he doeth not alwaies after one maner; for with one he daunceth and singeth; with another he wil seeme to wrestle, or otherwise to exercise the bodie in feats of acti­vitie: if he chance to meet with a man that loveth to hunt, and to keepe hounds, him he will fol­low 20 hard at heeles, setting out a throat as loud in a maner as Hippolytus in the Tragedie Phoedra, crying,

And yet hath he nothing to do at all with the wilde beasts of the forrest, but it is the hunter him­selfe whom hee laieth for to take within his net and toile. And say that hee light upon a yoong man that is a student & given to learning, then you shall see him also as deepe poring upon his booke, and alwaies in his Studie; you shall have him let his beard grow downe to his foot, like a 30 grave Philosopher: who but he then, in his side thred-bare students cloake, after the Greeke fa­shion, as if he had no care of himselfe, nor joy of any thing els in the world: not a word then in mouth, but of the Numbers, Orthangles and Triangles of Plato. If peradventure there fall into his hands an idle do-nothing, who is rich withall, and a good fellow, one that loveth to eat and drinke and make good cheere,

off goes then his bare and overworne studying gowne, his beard he causeth to be cut & shorne as neere as a new mowen field in harvest, when all the corne is gone: no talke then but of fla­gons, bottels, pots, and cooling pans to keepe the wine cold: nothing now but merie con­ceits 40 to moove laughter in everie walking place and gallerie of pleasure: Now hee letteth flie srumpes and scoffes against schollers and such as studie philosophie. Thus by report it fell out upon a time at Syracusa: For when Plato thither arrived, and Denys all on a sodaine was set up­on a furious fit of love to Philosophie, his palace and whole court was full of dust and sand, by reason of the great recourse thither of Students in Geometrie, who did nothing but draw figures therein. But no sooner had Plato incurred his displeasure and was out of favor: no soo­ner had Denys the tyrant bidden Philosophie farewell, & given himselfe againe to belly-cheere, to wine, vanities, wantonnesse, and all loosenesse of life: but all at once, it seemed the whole court was transformed likewise, (as it were by the sorcerie and enchantment of Cyrces) into ha­tred and detestation of good letters; so as they forgat all goodnesse, and betooke themselves to 50 folly and sottishnesse. To this purpose it were not amisse for to alledge as testimonies, the fa­shions and acts of some notorious flatterers, such I meane as have governed Common-welths, and affected popularitie. Among whom the greatest of all other was Alcibiades, who all the while he was at Athens used to scoffe, and had a good grace in merrie conceits & pleasant jests: he kept great horses, and lived in jollitie, most gallantly, with the love and favor of all men: when he sojourned in Sparta, he went alwaies shaven to the bare skin, in an overworne cloke, or else the same very course, and never washed his bodie but in cold water. Afterwards, being [Page 89] in Thrace, he became a soldior, and would carrouse and drinke lustily with the best. He came no sooner to Tisaphernes in Asia, but he gave himselfe to voluptuousnes and pleasure, to riot, wantonnes, and superfluous delights: Thus throughout the whole course of his life, he wan the love of all men, by framing himselfe to their humors and fashions wheresoever he came. Such were not Epaminondas and Agesilaus: For albeit they conversed with many sorts of people, travailed divers cities, and saw sundry fashions and maners of strange nations; yet they never changed their behavior, they were the same men still, reteining evermore a decent port which became them in their apparel, speech, diet, and their whole cariage and demeanor. Plato like­wise was no changeling, but the same man at Syracuasa, that he was in the Academie or College at Athens: and looke what his cariage was before Dion, the same it was and no other in Denys 10 his court.

But that man may very easily finde out the variable changes of a flatterer, as of the fish called the Pourcuttle, who will but straine a little and take the paines to play the dissembler himselfe, making shew as if he likewise were transformed into divers and sundry fashions; namely in mis­liking the course of his former life, and sodainly seeming to embrace those things which he re­jected before, whether it be in diet, action or speech: For then he shall soone see the flatterer also to be inconstant, and not a man of himselfe, taking love or hatred to this or that, joying or greeving at a thing, upon any affection of his owne that leadeth him thereto, for that he recei­veth alwaies as a mirrour the images of the passions, motions and and lives of other men. If you chance to blame one of your friends before him, what will he say by and by? Ah well, You 20 have found him out I see now at last though it were long since: I wis I liked him not long a great while ago: Contrariwise, if your minde alter, so that you happen to fall a praising of him againe: Very well done will he say, and binde it with an oth, I con you thanke for that: I am very glad for the mans sake, and I beleeve no lesse of him. Do you breake with him about the altera­tion of your life, and beare him in hand that you meane to take another course, as for example, to give over State affaires, to betake your selfe to a more private and quiet life. Yea marie (quoth he) and then you do well, it is more than high time so to do: For long since we should have beene disburdened of these troubles so full of envie and perill. Make him beleeve once that you will change your copie, and that you are about to shake off this idle life, and to betake your selfe unto the Common-weale, both to rule and also to speake in publike place: you shall 30 have him to sooth you up, and second your song, with these and such like responds: A brave mind (beleeve me) and beseeming a man of your worth and good parts: For to say a truth, this idle and priyate life, though it be pleasant, and have ease enough, yet it is but base, abject, and dishonorable; when you finde him there once, muffle his nose immediately with this posie,

I have no neede of such a friend, that will alter as I doe, and follow me every way (for my sha­dow can do that much better) I had rather have one that with me will follow the truth, & judge according to it and not otherwise. Avant therefore, I will have nought to do with thee. This you see one way to discover a flatterer. 40

A second difference we ought to observe in his imitations and resemblances, for a true friend doth not imitate all that he seeth him whom he loveth to do; neither is he forward in prai­sing everie thing but that onely which is best: For according to Sophocles,

And verily one friend is ready and willing to assist another in well doing and in honest life, and never will yeeld to be companion in leaudnesse, or helpe him to commit any wicked and hei­nous fact; unlesse peradventure through the ordinarie conversation, and continuall acquain­tance together, he be tainted with infection of some ill qualitie and vicious condition, even against his will and ere he be well aware: much like as they who by contagion catch rhewma­ticke 50 and bleere eies: or as the familiar friends and schollers (by report) of Plato did imitate him in stouping forward: and those of Aristotle in his stammering and maffling speech; and the [...] of Alexander the Great, in bending of his necke, and rough voice when he spake. For even so some there be who receive impression of their manners and conditions at unawares and against their wils. But contrariwise, it fareth with a flatterer even as with the Chamoelion; For as he can take upon him any colour save onely white; semblably, a flatterer cannot possibly frame himselfe to any thing that good is and of importance: but there is no naughtinesse and [Page 90] badnesse in the world which he will not quickly imitate. And well I may compare such fellowes to ill painters, who when through insufficiencie in their art they be not able to draw to the life, the beantie and favour of a good face, will be sure yet to expresse the rivels, warts, moules, frec­kles, scarres and such like deformities. For even so a flatterer can imitate verie passing well, In­continencie, foolish superstition, hastines and choler, bitternesse towards houshold servants, distrust and diffidence in friends & kinsfolk, yea and treacherie against them: for that by nature he is alwaies inclined to the woorse; and besides, so far he would be thought from blaming vice, that he undertaketh to imitate the same. For those that seeke for amendment of life and refor­mation of manners are ever suspected: such (I say) as shew themselves displeased and offended at the faults and misdemeanors of their friends. And this was it that made Dion odious to Denys 10 the Tyranty, Samius to Philip, and Cleomenes to Ptolomaeus, and in the ende was their ruine and overthrow. The flatterer who desireth to be both pleasant and faithfull at once, or at leastwise so to be reputed, for execessive love and friendship that he pretendeth, will not seeme to be offen­ded with his friend for any lewd parts, but in all things would be thought to carie the same affec­tion, and to be in manner of the same nature and incorporate into him: whereupon it com­meth to passe also, that even in casuall things and the occurrences of this life, which hap­pen without our will and counsell, he will needes have a part, there is no remedie. This if he be disposed to flatter sicke persons, hee will make as though hee were sicke also of the same disease for companie: and if hee have to doe with such as bee dimme sighted or hard of hearing, hee will be thought neither to see nor heare well for fellowship. Thus the flatterers 20 about Denys the Tyrants, when he had an impediment in his eies that he could not see cleerely, faigned that themselves likewise were halfe blinde, and to make it good, hit one upon another at the board, and overthrew the dishe upon the table as they sate at supper. Others there be that proceed farther than so, and because they would appeere more touched with fellow-fee­ling of affections, will enter as farre as to the verie inward secrets that are not to be revealed. For if they can perceive that they whom they do flatter, be not fortunate in their marriage, or that they are growen into distrust, jealousie, and sinister opinion, either of their owne children, or their neer kinsfolke and familiars; they spare not themselves but begin to complaine, & that with griefe of heart and sorrow of their owne wives and children, of theirkinred and friends, laying abroad some criminous matters, which were better (iwis) to be concealed and smothered, 30 than uttered and revealed. And this resemblance and likenesse that they take upon themselves, causeth them to seeme more affectionate and fuller of compassion. The other then, thus flatte­red, thinking that by this means they have received from them a sufficient pawne and assurance of their fidelitie, sticke not to let fall from their mouth some matter of secrecie also; and when they have once committed it unto them, then they are ever after bound to use them, yea and be afraid to mistrust them in any thing. I my selfe knew one who feemed to put away his owne wedded wife, because his friendwhom he flattered had divorced his befofe: and when he had so done, was knowen to go secretly unto her, and messengers there were who passed to and fro be­tweene them under hand: which the divorced wife of the other perceived and found out well ynough. Certes little knew he what a flatterer was, and he had no experience of him who 40 thought these Iambicke verses to expresse the Sea-crab better than him,

For this is the very portraiture and image of a parasite, who keepes about the frying pan (as Eu­polis saith) of his good friends, and waiteth where the cloth is laid. But as touching these things, let us referre them to their proper place for to be discoursed more at large. Howbeit, for the pre­sent let us not leave behinde us one notable devise and cunning cast; that a flatterer hath in his imitations; to wit, that if he do counterfeit some good oualitie that is in him whom he doth flat­ter, 50 yet he giveth him alwaies the upper hand: For among those that be true friends, there is no emulation at al, no jealousie or envy betweene one & another: but whether they be equall in wel doing or come behinde, they take all in good part and never grieve at the matter. But the flatte­rer bearing wel in minde that he in everie place, is to play the second part, yeeldeth alwaies in his imitation the equalitie from himselfe, and doth affect to counterfeit another so, as he will be the inferiour, giving the superioritie unto the other in all things but those which are naught, for therein he chalengeth to himselfe the victorie over his friend. If he be somewhat mal-content [Page 91] and hard to be pleased, then will the flatterer professe himselfe to be starke melancholike: if his friend be somewhat too religious or superstitious, then will he make semblance as though he were rapt and transported altogether with the feare of the gods: If the other be amorous, he wil be in love furious: when the other saith I laughed a good; but I (will he say againe) laughed un­till I was well neere dead. But in good things it is cleane contrarie, for when he speaketh of good footmanship he wil say, I runne swiftly indeed; but you fly away. Againe, I sit a horse and rid reasonable wel; but what is that to this Hippo-Centaure here for good horsemanship? Also, I have a pretie gift in Poetrie (I must needs say) and am not the worst versifier in the world; but

in these and such like speeches two things at once he doth: for first he seemeth to approove the enterprise of the other as singular good, because he doth imitate him; and secondly he sheweth that his sufficiencie therein is incomparable and not to be matched, in that he confesseth him­selfe to come short of him. And thus much of the different marks betweene a flatterer and a friend as touching their resemblances.

Now, forasmuch as there is a communitie of delectation and pleasure in them both (as I have said before) for that an honest man taketh no lesse joy and comfort in his friends, than a lewd person in flatterers, let us consider likewise the distinction betweene them in this behalfe. The onely way to distinguish them a sunder in this point, is to marke the drift and end of the delectation both in the one and the other: which a man may see more cleerely by this exam­ple: 20 There is in a sweete ointment an odoriferous smell: so is therealso in an Antidote or me­dicine; but herrein lieth the difference, for that in the ointment abovesaid, theire is a reference to pleasure onely, and to nothing else; but in the Antidote, beside the delectation that the odor yeeldeth, there is a respect also of some medicinable vertue, namely either to purge and clense the bodie, or to heate and chafe it, or else to incamate and make new flesh to come. Againe Painters do grinde and mixe fresh colours and lively tinctures; so the Apothecarie hath drugs and medicines of a beautifull and pleasant colour to the eie, that it would do a man good to look upon them. But wherein is the difference? Is there any man so grosse that conceiveth not rea­dily, that the ods lieth in the use or end, for which both the one and the other be ordained? Sem­blably the mutuall offices and kindnesses that passe from friend to friend, beside the honestie 30 and profite that they have, bring with them also that which is pleasing and delectable, as if some deinty and lively flowers grew thereupon: For sometime friends use plaies and pastimes one with another: they invite one another, they eate and drinke together: yea and otherwhiles (beleeve me) you shall have them make themselves mery and laugh hartily, jesting, gauding, and disporting one with another; all which serve as pleasant sauces to season their other serious and honest affaires of great weight and consequence. And to this purpose serve wel these verses:

Also,

But the whole worke of a flatterer, and the onely marke that he shooteth at, is alwaies to de­vise, prepare and confect, as it were, some play or sport, some action and speech, with plea­sure and to do pleasure. And to knit up all briefly in one word, he is of opinion that he ought to do all for to be pleasant: whereas the true friend doing alwaies that which his dutie requireth, many times pleaseth, and as often againe he is displeasant: not that his intention is to displease at any time; howbeit if he see it expedient and better so to do, he will not sticke to be a little harsh and unpleasant. For like as a Physician when neede requireth, putteth in some Saffron or Spiknard into his medicine: yea and otherwhile permitreth his patient a delicate bath, or liberall and deinty diet to his ful contenment: but sometimes for it againe, leaving out all sweet odors, 50 casteth in Castorem,

or else he bruseth and stampeth some Ellebore, and forceth his patient to drinke of that potion: not proposing either in the former medicine pleasure, nor in the latter displeasure for the end: but both by the one and the other, training the sicke person under his hand to one & the same effect of his cure, to wit, his good and the health of his body; even so it is with a true friend: [Page 92] one while with praises and gracious words he extolleth and cheereth up his friend, inciting him thereby alwaies to that which is good and honest, as he in Homer,

And another,

Contrariwise, anotherwhile where there is need of chastisement and correction, he will not 10 spare but use sharpe and biting words: yea, and that free speech which carrieth with it an affecti­on carefull to do good, and such as in deed beseemeth a tutor and governour, much after this manner:

It falleth out so likewise, that sometime he addeth deeds to words. And thus Menedemus shut the doore against the sonne of Asclepiades his friend, and would not deigne once to salute him, because he was a riotous youth, and lived dissolutely and out of all order: by which meanes he 20 was reclaimed from loose life, and became an honest man. Arcesilaus in like maner excluded Battus out of his schoole, and would not suffer him to enter, because in a Comedie that he com­posed, he had made one verse against Cleanthes; but afterwards Battus repenting of that he had done, and making satisfaction unto Cleanthes, was pardoned and received againe into his favor. For a man may offend his friend with intention to doe him good; but he must not proceed so farre in displeasing him, that thereby he breake or undo the knot of friendship: he ought (I say) to use a sharpe rebuke, as a Physician doth some bitter or tart medicine, to save or peserve the life of his patient. And a good friend is to play the part of a Musician, who to bring his instru­ment into tune, and so to keepe it, setteth up these strings, and letteth downe those: and so ought a friend to exchange profit with pleasure, and use one with another, as occasion serveth, obser­ving 30 still this rule often times, to be pleasing unto his friend, but alwaies profitable: whereas the flatterer being used evermore to sing one note, and to play upon the same string, that is to say, To please: and in all his words and deeds, to aime at nothing els but the contentment of him whom he flattereth, can not skill either in act to resist, or in speech to reproove and offend him; but goeth on still in following his humor, according alwaies with him in one tune, and keeping the same note just with him.

Now, as Xenophon writeth of king Agesilaus, that he was well apaied to be commended of them who he knew would also blame him if there were cause; so we are to thinke well of friend­ship when it is pleasant, delightsome and cheereful, if otherwhiles also it can displease and crosse againe; but to have in suspition the conversation and acquaintance of such, as never doe or say 40 any thing but that which is pleasing, continually keeping one course without change, never rubbing where the gall is, nor touching the sore, without reproofe and contradiction. We ought (I say) to have ready alwaies in remembrance the saying of an ancient Laconian, who hearing king Charilaus so highly praised and extolled; And how possibly (quoth he) can he be good, who is neuer sharpe or severe unto the wicked? The gad-flie (as they say) which useth to plague bulles and oxen, setleth about their eares, and so doth the tick deale by dogges: after the same maner, flatterers take holde of ambitious mens eares, and possesse them with praises; and being once set fast there, hardly are they to be removed and chased away. And here most need­full it is, that our judgement be watchfull and observant, and doe discerne whether these praises be attributed to the thing or the person; wee shall perceive that the thing it selfe is praised, if 50 they commend men rather absent than in place: also if they desire and affect that themselves, which they do so like and approve in others: again, if they praise not us alone, but all others, for the semblable qualities: likewise, if they neither say nor do one thing now, and another time the contrary. But the principall thing of all other, is this, If we our selves know in our owne secret conscience, that we neither repent nor be ashamed of that, for which they so commend us; ne yet wish in our hearts, that we had said or done the contrary: for the inward judgement of our mind and soule bearing witnesse against such praises, and not admitting thereof, is void of affections [Page 93] and passions, wherby it neither can be touched nor corrupted and surprised by a flatterer. How­beit, I know not how it commeth about, that the most part of men can not abide nor receive the consolations which be ministred unto them in their adversities, but rather take delight and com­fort in those that weepe, lament and mourne with them: and yet the same men having offended or being delinquent in any duetie, if one come and find fault or touch them to the quicke there­fore, do strike and imprint into their hearts remorse and repentance, they take him for no better than an accuser and enemie: contrariwise, let one highly commend and magnifie that which they have done; him they salute and embrace, him they account their wel-willer and friend in deed. Now, whosoever they be that are ready to praise and extoll with applause and clapping of hands, that which one hath done or said, were it in earnest or in game; such (I say) are dange­rous 10 and hurtfull for the present onely, and in those things which are next hand: but those, who with their praises pierse as faire as to the maners within, and with their flatteries proceed to cor­rupt their inward natures and dispositions, I can liken unto those slaves or housholde servants, who rob their masters, not onely of that corne which is in the heape, & heth in the garners, but also of the very seed; for the inclination and towardnesse of a man, are the seed that bring forth all his actions, and the habitude of conditions and maners, are the very source and head from whom runneth the course of our whole life, which they pervert in giving to vices the names of vertues. Thucydides in his storie writeth: That during civill seditions and warres, men transfer­red the accustomed significations of words unto other things, for to justifie their deeds: for de­sparate rashnesse, without all reason, was reputed valour, and called Love-friend: provident de­lay 20 and remporizing, was taken for decent cowardise: Modestie and temperance, was thought to be a cloke of effeminate unmanlinesse: a prudent and wary circumspection in all things, was held for a generall slouth and idlenesse. According to which precedent, we are to consider and observe in flatterers, how they terme prodigalitie by the name of liberalitie; cowardise is no­thing with them but heedfull warinesse: brainsicknesse they entitle promptitude, quicknesse, and celeritie: base and mechanicall niggardise, they account temperate frugalitie. Is there one full of love and given to be amorous? him they call good fellow, a boun-companion, a man of a kinde and good nature. See they one hastie, wrathfull, and proud withall? him they will have to be hardie, valiant and magnanimous: contrariwise, one of a base minde and abject spirit, they will grace with the attribute of fellow-like, and full of humanity. Much like to that which Plato 30 hath written in one place: That the amorous lover is a flatterer of those whom he loveth. For if they be flat nosed like a shoing borne, such they call lovely and gracious: be they hawk-nosed like a griffin, ôh, that is a kingly sight say they: those that be blacke of colour, are manly: white of complexion, be Gods children. And as for the terme Melichriis, that is, Hony-coloured, it is alwaies (verily) a flattering word, devised by a lover, to mitigate and diminish the odiousnesse of a pale hue, which he seemeth by that sweet name, not to mislike, but to take in the best part. And verily if hee that is foule & ill favoured, be borne in hand that he is faire and beautifull, or one of small & lowe stature made beleeve that he is goodly & tall; he neither continueth long in this his error, neither is the damage that he susteineth thereby greevous & great, nor unrecove­rable: but the praises which induce & inure a man to beleeve, That vice is vertue, insomuch that 40 he is nothing at all discontented in his sinne and greeved therefore, but rather taketh pleasure therein: those also which take away from us all shame and abashment to commitfaults; such were they that brought the Sicilians to ruine, and gave them occasion to beautifie or colour the tyrannie and crueltie of Denys and Phalaris, with the goodly names of Iustice and Hatred of wickednesse: These were the overthrow of Aegypt, in cloking the effeminate wantonnesse, the furious superstition, the yelling noises after a fanaticall maner of king Ptolomaeus, together with the marks that he caried of Lillies and Tabours in his body, with the glorious names of Devotion, Religion, and the service of the gods. And this was it that at the same time went very neere, and had like to have corrupted and spoiled for ever the maners and fashions of the Romanes, which before were so highly reputed, to wit, naming the riotousnes of Antonie, his 50 loosenes, his superfluous delights, his sumptuous shewes & publike feasts, with their profusion and wasting of so much monie, by smooth and gentle termes of courtesies, and meriments full of humanitie, by which disguisements and pretexts, his fault was mollified or diminished in abusing so excessively the grandence of his puissance & fortune. And what was it else that made Ptolomaeus to put on the masque or mussle (as it were) of a piper, and to hang about him pipes and fluits? What was it that caused Nero to mount up the Stage to act Tragedies, with a visour over his face, and buskins on his legs? was it not the praise of such flatterers as these? And are [Page 94] not most of our kings being when they sing small and fine, after a puling maner, saluted Apolloes for their musicke: and if they drinke untill they be drunke, honored with the names of Bacchus the god of wine: and when they seeme a little to wrestle or trie some freats of activitie, stiled by and by with the glorious addition of Hercules, brought (thinke you) to exceeding dishonour & shame by this grosse flatterie, taking such pleasure as they do in these gallant surnames. And therefore we had most need to beware of a flatterer in the praises which he giveth, which him­selfe is not ignorant of, but being carefull and very subtill in avoiding all suspicion, if haply he meet with one of these fine fooles, and delicate minions, well set out in gay apparell: or some rusticall thicke-skin, carying on his backe a good leather pilch; or (as they say) one that fee­deth grosly: such he will not spare but abuse with broad flattery, and make common laughing 10 stocks of them: Like as Struthias, making a very asse of Bias, and riding him up and downe, yea & insulting upon him for his sottishnesse with praises that he would seeme to hang upon him: Thou hast (quoth he) drunk more than king Alexander the great, & with that turning to Cyprius laughed as hard as ever he could till he was ready to sinke againe. But if a flatterer chance to deale with them that be more civill and elegant, and do perceive that they have a speciall eie unto him in this point, namely that they stand well upon their guard in this place, for feare lest they be surprised by him: then he goes not to worke directly in praising of them, but he keepeth aloose, he fetcheth about many compasses a great way off at first, afterwards by little and little he winneth some ground and approcheth neerer and neerer, making no noise untill he can touch and handle them, much after the maner of those that come about wilde beasts, assaying 20 how to bring them to hand and make them tame and gentle. For one while he will report to such a one the praises that some other give out of him: imitating herein the Rhetoricians, who many times in their orations speake in the third person, and after this maner he will begin: I was not long since (quoth he) in the market place, where I had some talke with certeine stran­gers, and other ancient personages of good worth, whom I was glad at the heart to heare, how they recounted all the good in the world of you, and spake wonderfully in your commendation. Otherwhiles he will devise and fetch out of his owne fingers ends some light imputations against him, yet all forged and false, agreeable to his person and condition, making semblance as if he had heard others what they said of him, and very cunningly will he close with him, and beare him in hand that he is come in all haste to know of him, whether ever he said or did so as 30 was reported of him: And if the other do denie it, (as it is no other like but he will) thereupon he takes occasion to enter into the praise and commendation of the man in this wise: I mervaile truly how that you should abuse and speake ill of any of your familiars and friends, who were never woont so much as to miscall or say otherwise than well of your very enimies? or how it possibly could be, that you should be ready to gape after other mens goods, who use to be so li­berall and bountifull of your owne? Other flatterers there be, who like as Painters to set up their colours and to give them more beautifull light and lustre unto them, lay neere unto them others that be more darke and shadowie: so they in blaming, reprooving, reproching, tradu­cing & deriding the contrarie vertues to those vices which are in them whom the meane to flat­ter, covertly and underhand do praise and approove those faults and imperfections that they 40 have, and so in praising and allowing, do feede and cherish the same: As for example, if they be among prodigall ding-thrists and wasters, riotous persons, covetous misers, mischievous wret­ches, and such as have raked & scraped goods together by hooke and crooke, and by all indirect means they care not how: before them they will speake basely of Temperance and Abstinence, calling it rusticitie: and as for those that live justly and with a good conscience, contenting themselves with their estate, and therin reposing suffisance, those they will nickname, heartlesse, and base minded folke, altogether insufficient to do or dare any thing. If it fall out, that they converse and be in companie with such as be idle lusks, and love to sit still at home and do no­thing, forbearing to meddle with ordinarie affaires abroad in the world: they will not bash to finde fault with policie and civill government, calling the managing of State matters and com­mon 50 weale, a thanklesse intermedling in other mens affaires, with much travaile and no pro­fit. And as for the minde and desire to be a magistrate and to sit in place of authoritie, they will not let to say it is vaine glory and ambition, altogether fruitlesse. For to flatter and claw an ora­tour, they will reproove in his presence a Philosopher. Among light huswives that be wanton­ly given, they winne the price, and are very well accepted, if they call honest matrons and chaste dames (who content themselves with their owne husbands, and them love alone) rude and ru­sticall women, untaught, ill bred, unlovely and having no grace with them. But herein is the [Page 95] very height of wickednesse, that these flatterers for advantage will not spare their owne selves: For like as wrestlers debase their owne bodies and stoupe downe low otherwhiles, for to over­throw their fellowes that wrestle with them, and to lay them along on the ground; so in bla­ming and finding many faults with themselves, they winde in, and creepe closely to the praise and admiration of others: I am (quoth one of them) a very coward, and no better than a verie slave at sea; I can away with no labour and travell in the world; I am all in a heat of choler, and raging mad, if I heare that one hath given me any bad termes; mary as for this man (meaning him whom he flattereth) he casteth doubts at no perill and danger, all is one with him, sea or land, he can endure all hardnesse, and he counteth nothing painfull, no hurt there is in him, a singular man he is, and hath not his fellow, he is angry at nothing, he beareth all with patience. 10 But say he meet with one at aventure, which standeth upon his owne bottome, and hath some great opinion of his owne sufficiency for wit and understanding, who hath a desire to be austere, and not to depend upon the conceits of others, but resteth in his owne judgement; and upon a certaine uprightnesse in himselfe, eftsoones hath these verses in his mouth:

This flatterer then, who is this owne crafts-master and hath thoroughly learned his trade, goeth not the old way to worke in setting upon him, but he hath another engin and device in store to 20 assaile such a grim sir withall. He will make an errand to him for counsell in his owne affaires, as being the man whom he esteemeth to have more wit and wisdome than himselfe. There be divers others (quoth he) with whom I have better acquaintance and familiaritie than with your selfe: Howbeit, sir I am forced of necessitie to make bold and to importune you a little: For whither else should wee ingram men repaire, that have neede of advice? and to whom are we to have recourse in matters of trust and secresie. And then after he hath heard once what he will say, and it makes no matter what it be; he will take his leave, saying, that he hath received not counsell from a man, but an oracle from some god. Now before he departeth, if haply he per­ceive that he taketh upon him good skill and insight in litterature, he wil present unto him some compositions of his owne penning, praying him withall to peruse them, yea and to correct 30 the same. Mithridates the king, affected and loved the art of Physicke verie well: by reason whereof some of his familiar friends about him, came and offered themselves to be cut and cau­terised by him: which was a meere flatterie in deed and not in word. For it seemed that they gave great testimonie of his soule, in that they put their lives into his hands:

But this kind of dissimuled praises, requiring greater and more warie circumspection to be ta­ken heed of, if a man would detect and convince, hee ought of purpose when hee is tempted and assailed with such flatterie, to obtrude and propose unto the flatterer absurd counsell, if he seeme to damaund and aske it: advertisements also and properly of the same kinde, yea and cor­rections 40 without all sense and to no purpose, when he shall offer his labours to be read and per­used: In so doing, if he perceive the partie suspected to be a flatterer, doth not gainesay nor con­tradict any thing, but alloweth of all and receiveth the same, yea and more than that, when he shall to everie point crie out and say, Oh well said and sufficiently: O excellent wit: be sure, then he is caught in a trap: they I say it will be found plainely according to the common by­word,

that is to say, he waited for some occasion and opportunitie, by praising to puffe him up with vanitie and overweening of himselfe. Moreover, like as some have defined painting to be a mute Poësie; even so praising is a kind of silent and secret flatterie. Hunters (we see) then soo­nest deceive the poore beasts, when they seeme to do nothing lesse then to hunt, making sem­blance as though they either travelled like wayfaring men, or rended their flocks, or else tilled the ground. Semblably flatterers touch those whom they flatter, neerest and enter to the verie quicke by praising, when they make no shew thereof, but seeme to do nothing lesse than praise. [Page 96] For he that giveth the chaire and seat to another comming in place, or as he is making an ora­tion either in publike place before the people, or in Councell house to the Senate, breaketh off his owne speech, and yeeldeth unto him his roome, giving him leave to speake or to opine, and remaineth silent himselfe: by this his silence sheweth, that he doth repute the other a better man, and of more sufficiencie for wisedome and knowledge than himselfe, much more than if he should pronounce and ring it out aloude to the whole audience. And hereupon it is that this sort of people who make profession of faltterie, take up ordinarily the first and highest seats, aswell at sermons and publike orations whither men flocke to heare, as at the Theaters and she­wen places, not that they thinke themselves worthic of such places, but because they may rise and make roome for better & richer persons as they come, and thereby slatter them, kindly. This 10 we see also, that in solemne assemblies and great meetings or auditories, they are by their good wils the first that put themselves forth, and make offer to begin speech; but it is for nothing else, but that afterward they would seeme to quit the place and give assent to their betters, soone re­tracting their owne opinions, when they heare a mightie man, a rich or noble personage in au­thoritie to contradict and say the contrarie. And here we ought most of all to be circumspect and warie, that we may evict them of this, That all this courting, this giving place, this yeelding of the victorie and reverence made unto others, is not for any more sufficiencie that they ac­knowledge in them, for their knowledge, experience and vertues; ne yet for their worthinesse in regard of elder age, but only for their wealth, riches, credit, and reputation in the world. [...] repor­teth this of K. Alexander, & not of Mega­bysus. Me­gabysus a great Lord belonging to the kings court of Persia, came upon a time to visit Apelles 20 the painter: and sitting by him in his shop to see him worke, began of his owne accord to dis­course I wot not what, of lines, shadowes and other matters belonging to his art: Apelles hea­ring him, could not hold but said unto him; See you not sir these litle prentise boies here that grinde Oker and other colours? So long as you sate still and said never a word, they advised you well and their eie was never off, wondering to see your rich purple robes, your chaines and je­wels of gold, no sooner began you to speake, but they fell to teighing, and now they laugh you to skorne, talking thus as you doe of those things which you never learned. And Solon being demaunded once by Craesus King of Lydia, what men he had seene whom he reputed most hap­pie in this world? named unto him one Tellus, none of the great men of Athens, but a good plaine and meane citizen, Cleobis also and Biton: and these he said were of all others most fortu­nate. 30 But these flatterers will affirme that Kings and Princes, rich men and rulers, are not onely blessed, happie and fortumate; but also excell all others in wisedome, knowledge and vertue. There is not one of them that can endure so much as to heare the Stoicks, who hold, that the sage and wise man (such a one as they depaint unto us) ought all at once to be called, rich, faire, noble, yea and a king: whereas our flatterers will have the rich man onely, whom they are disposed to flatter, to be an Oratour and a Poet; yea and if he will himselfe, a painter, a good piper, passing light of foote and strong of limmes; insomuch, as whosoever wrestleth with him, shall be sure to take the foile and lye along; and whomsoever he runneth with in the race, he shal come behinde him a faire deale, but how? Surely even as Crisson the Himeraean lagged for the nonce behind King Alexander the Great, when he ran with him for the best game: for which 40 the King was highly displeased & wroth at him, when he once perceved it. Carneades was woont to say, that the sons of Kings and great rich men, learned to do nothing well and right, but one­ly to sit and ride an horse. For that their masters are woont to flatter and praise them in all their schooles where they be taught: for if they be at the exercise of wrestling, you shall have him that wrestleth with them, of purpose to take a fall and lie under them: Marie, the horse not kno­wing nor having the reason to discerne a private mans sonne from a prince; nor whether he be poore or rich that sits upon his backe, will be sure to cast him over his head and lay him along whosoever he be, that cannot skill how to hold and rule him. Bion therefore was but a verie lob and foole in saying thus: If I wist that with praising a peece of ground I could make it good, rich and fertile, it should want for no praises; and rather would I commend it than toile and 50 moile in digging, tilling, & doing worke about it. And yet I will not say, that a man is too blame and doth amisse in praising: if so be, that those who are praised be the better and more fruitfull in all good things for it. Howbeit to come againe into the ground before said; a field being praised never so much is not the worse nor lesse fertile therefore: but I assure you they that commend folke falsely, and beyond their desert and due, puffe them full of winde and vanitie, and worke their overthrow in the end. But now having discoursed sufficiently upon this article and point of praises, let us proceed forward to treat of franknes and libertie of speech. [Page 97] And verily meete and reason it had beene, that as Patroclus when he put on the armour of Achilles, and brought forth his horses of service to battell, durst not meddle with his speare Pe­lias, but left it onely untouched; so a flatterer also, although he maske and disguise himselfe withother habits, ornaments and ensignes of a friend, should let this libertie onely of speech alone, and not once go about to touch or counterfeit it, as being indeed

that of all others it belongeth onely to friendship for to be caried and welded by it. But for as much, as our flatterers now a daies are afraid to be detected in laughing in their cups, in their jests, scoffes, and gamesome mirth; therefore to avoide such discovery, they have learned 10 forsooth to knit and bend the browes, they can skill iwis, to flatter, and yet looke with a frow­ning face and crabbed countenance, they have the cast to temper with their glavering gloses some rough reprehensions, and chiding checks among: let us not overpasse this point untou­ched, but consider and examine the same likewise. For mine owne part I am of this minde: That as in a Comedie of Menander, there comes in a counterfeit Hercules to play his part up­on the stage with a club on his shoulder, that is (you may bee sure) nothing massie, heavie, stiffe and strong, but some device and gawd, hollow and emptie within, made of browne paper or such like stuffe; Even so, that plaine and free speech which a slatterer useth, will bee found light, soft, and without any strength at all to give a blow: much like (to say truly) unto the soft bed pillowes that women lie on, which seeming full and plumpe to resist and beare out against 20 their heads, yeeld and sinke under the same so much the more: For after the same maner, this counterfeit free speech of theirs puffed up full of winde, or else sluffed with some deceitfull light matter, seemeth to rise up, to swell, and beare out hard & stiffe, to the end that being pres­sed downe once (and both sides as it were comming together) it might receive, enlap and enfold him that chaunceth to fall thereupon, and so carie him away with it. Whereas the true and friendly libertie of speech indeed, taketh hold of those that are delinquent and do offend, bring­ing with it a kinde of paine for the time, which notwithstanding is holsome and healthfull: re­sembling heerein the nature of honie, which being applied to a sore or ulcerous place, at the first doth smart and sting; but it doth clense and mundifie withall, and otherwise is profitable, sweete and pleasant. But as touching this plaine dealing and franke speech, I will write a part of 30 purpose in place convenient. As for the flatterer he maketh shew at the first, that he is rough, violent, and inexorable in all dealings with others. For over his servants he carieth a hard hand, and is not pleased with their service, with his familiars, acquaintance and kinsfolke he is sharpe and eager, ready to finde fault with every thing; he maketh no reckoning nor account of any man but himselfe; he despiseth and disdaineth all the world besides; there is not a man living that he will pardon and forgive; he blameth and accuseth every one; and his whole studie is to is win the name & reputation of a man that hateth vice, & in that regard careth not whom he doth provoke, and whose displeasure he incur: as who, for no good in the world would he hired to hold his [...] , nor willingly forbeare to speake plainly the truth; who with his good will would never speake or do any thing to sooth up and please another: Then will he make semblance as 40 though he neither saw nor tooke knowledge of any great and grosse sinnes indeed: but if per­adventure there be some light and small outward faults, he will make foule a doo thereat, he will keepe a woondring and crying out upon them: then shall you have him in good earnest ex­claime and reproove the delinquent with a loud and sounding voice: As for example, if hee chance to espie the implements or any thing else about the house lie out of order; if a man be not well and neately lodged; if his beard be not of the rightcut, or his haire grow out of fa­shion; if a garment sit not handsomly about him, or if a horse or hound be not so carefully tended as they should be. But say that a man set nought by his parents, neglect his owne chil­dren, misuse his wife, disdaine and despise his kinred, spend and consume his goods; none of all these enormities touch and moove him: Heere he is mute and hath not a word to say; he dared 50 not reprove these abuses: much like as if a Master of the wrestling schoole, who suffreth a wrest­ler that is under his hand to be a drunkard and a whooremonger, should chide and rebuke him sharpely about an oile cruse or curry-combe; or as if a Grammarian should finde fault with his scholar and chide him for his writing tables or his pen, letting him goe away cleere with solaecismes, incongruities and barbarismes, as if he heard them not. Also I can liken flatte­rer to him, who will not blame an ill authour, or ridiculous Rhetorician in any thing as tou­ching his oration it selfe; but rather reprooveth him for his utterance, and sharpely taketh him [Page 98] up for that by drinking of cold water he hath hurt his winde-pipe, and so marred his voice; or to one who being bidden to reade over and peruse a poore seely Epigram or other writing that is nothing woorth, taketh on and fareth against the paper wherein it is written, for being thicke, course or rugged; or against the writer, for negligent, slovenly or impure otherwise. Thus the claw-backs and flatterers about king Ptolomaeus, who would seeme to love good letters, and to be desirous of learning, used ordinarily to draw out their disputations and conferences at length, even to midnight, debating about some glosse or signification of a word, about a verse, or touching some historie: but all the while there was not one among so many of them, that would tell him of his crueltie, of his wrongs and oppressions, ne yet of his [...] Some ex­pound it, bea­ting his sub­jects with [...] , and oppressing thé with [...] exactions. [...] , ta­bouring, and other enormious indignities, under the colour of religion; and seeke to reforme 10 him. Certes a foolish fellow were he, who comming to a man diseased with tumors, swellings, impostumes, or hollow ulcers, called Fistulaes, should with a Chirurgians launcet, or Barbers rasor, fall to cut his haires, or pare his nailes; even so it fareth with these flatterers, who applie their libertie of speech to such things, as neither are in paine, nor yet do any hurt. Moreover, some others there bee of them, who being more cunning and craftie then their fellowes, and use this plainnesse of language and reprehension of theirs, for to please and make sport withall. Thus Agis the Argive, seeing how Alexander the great, gave very great rewards and gifts to a certaine pleasant and odde fellow that was a jester, cried out for verie envie and dolour of heart; O great abuse and monstrous absurditie: The King hearing it, turned a­bout unto him in great displeasure and indignation, demaunding of him what he had to say? 20 I confesse (quoth he) indeed, that I am grieved, and I thinke it a great indignitie, when I see all you that are descended from Iupiter and his sonnes, to take pleasure in flatterers and jesters about you, for to make you merrie. For even so Hercules tooke a delight to have in his com­pany certeine ridiculous Cecropes, and Bacchus had ever in his traine the Silenes. In your court likewise, a man may see such to be in credite and highly esteemed. When Tiberius Caesar the Emperor upon a certeine day was come into the Senate house of Rome, one of the Senators who knew how to flatter, arose and stood up, and with a good loud voice; Meete it is (quoth he) ô Caesar that men free borne, should likewise have the libertie of speech, and speake their minds frankly, without dissimuling or concealing any thing which they know to be good and profitable: with this speech of his, he stirred up the attention of the whole house, so as they gaue 30 good eare unto him, and Tyberius himselfe listened what he would say. Now when all was still and in great silence; Hearken (quoth he) ô Caesar, what it is that we all accuse and blame you for, but no man dare be so bolde as to speake it out: You neglect your selfe, and have no regard of your owne person; you consume and spoile your body with continuall cares and travels for our sake, taking no rest nor repose either day or night. Now when he had drawen out a long traine of words to this purpose, Cassius Severus a Rhetorician, stood up, and by report said thus; Such libertie of speech as this, will be the utter undoing of this man. But these flatteries are of the lighter sort, and doe lesse hurt: there be other more dangerous, which worke the mischiefe and corruption of those who are not wise, and take no heed unto them; namely, when flatterers set in hand to reproove them whom they flatter, for the contrary vices to those that be in them. 40 Thus Himerius the flatterer reproched a certaine rich man of Athens, the veriest pinching miser and the most covetous withall, that was in the whole city, with the imputations of prodi­gality, and negligence about his owne profit and gaine; charging him that one day he would smart for it, and both he and his children be hunger-sterved for want wherwith to susteine them­selves, if he looked no better to his thrift: or when they object miserable niggardise and begge­rie, unto those that are knowen to be prodigall spenders, and consume all. After which maner, Titus Petronius reprooved Nero. Againe, if they come to princes and great lords, who deale cruelly and hardly with their subjects and tenants, saying unto them, That they must lay away this overmuch lenity and foolish pitty of theirs, which neither is seemely for their persons, nor yet profitable for their state. And very like to these, is he who maketh semblance to him who is 50 a very senselesse for and foolish foole, that he stands in great feare and doubt of him, lest hee should be circumvented by him, as if he were some cautelous, crafty and cunning person. He also, that doth rebuke another, who is an ordinary slanderer, who taketh pleasure (upon spight and envie) to be ever railing on all men, and backe-biting them, if hee chance any one time to breake out into the praise of some woorthy and excellent personage, saying in this maner unto him; This is a great fault that you have, and a disease that followeth you, thus to praise men of no woorth: What is he (I pray you) whom you thus commend? what good parts be in him? [Page 99] hath he at any time done any doughty deed, or delivered any singular speech that might deserve such praises? But in amatorious and love matters they passe: there you shall have them most of all to come over those whom they flatter and lay on load; to them they will joine close, and set them on a flaming fire. For if they see brethren at some variance, or setting nought by their pa­rents, or els to deale unkindly with their owne wives, and to set no store by them, or to be jealous and suspicious of them; they never admonish, chastice or rebuke them for it, that they may a­mend; but rather they will kindle more coales betweene, and encrease their anger and discon­tentment on both sides: Nay, it is no great matter (will they say,) it is even well enough; you will never see and know who you are; you are the cause of all this your owne selfe; and selfe do, selfe have; you evermore have borne your selves so pliable, submisse and lowly toward them, 10 that you are but rightly served. But say there be some itching heat of love, or smart anger up­on jealousie, in regard of a courtisan or married wife, whom the party is amourous of; then shal you see a flatterer ready at hand to display his cunning openly, and to speake his minde freely unto him, putting fire to fire and feeding his love; you shall have him to lay the law upon this lover, accusing and entring processe against him in these termes: You have broken the lawes of love; you have done and said many things not so kindly as beseemed a true louer, but rather dealt hardly with your love, and enough to lose her heart, and incurre her hatred for euer;

Thus the flattering friends of Antonius, when he burned in love of the Aegyptian queene 20 Cleopatra, would perswade and make him beleeve, that she it was who was enamoured upon him, and by way of opprobrious imputation they would tell him to his face, that he was proud, dis­dainfull, hard hearted, and void of all kinde affection. This noble queene (would they say) for­saking so mighty and wealthy a kingdome, so many pleasant palaces, and stately houses of bles­sed abode, such meanes and opportunities of happinesse, for the love of you pineth away, and consumeth herselfe, trudging after your campe to and fro, for to doe your Honour content and pleasure with the habit and title of your Concubine,

neglecting her (good lady) and suffering her to perish for sorow and hearts griefe. Whereup­on 30 he being well enough pleased to heare himselfe thus charged with wrong doing to her, and taking more pleasure in these accusations of theirs, than if they had directly praised him, was so blinde that he could not see how they that seemed thus to admonish him of his duetie, perver­ted and corrupted him thereby so much the more. For this counterfeit liberty of plaine dealing and plaine speech, may be very well likened to the wanton pinches and bitings of luxurious wo­men, who tickle and stirre up the lust and pleasure of men by that which might seeme to cause their paine. For like as pure wine, which otherwise of it selfe is a sure remedy against the poi­son of hemlocke, if a man doe mingle it with the juice of the said hemlocke, doth mightily en­force the poison thereof, and make it irremediable, for that by meanes of the heat it conveieth the same more speedily unto the heart; even so these lewd and mischievous flatterers, knowing 40 full wel that franke speech is a singular helpe and remedy against flattery, abuse it to flatter with­all. And therefore it seemeth that Bias answered not so well as he might have done, to one that asked of him, which was the shrewdest and most hurtfull beast of all other: If (quoth he) your question be of wilde and savage, a Tyrant is worse; if of tame and gentle, a Flatterer. For hee might have said more truely; that of Flatterers some be of a tame kinde, such (I meane) as these parasites are who haunts the baines and stouphes; those also that follow good cheere and keepe about the table. As for him, who (like as the Pourcuttle fish stretcheth out his clawes like bran­ches) reacheth as farre as to the secret chambers and cabinets of women, with his busie inter­medling, with his calumniations and malicious demeanors, such a one is savage, fell, intractable and dangerous to be approched. 50

Now one of the meanes to beware of this flatterie, is to know and remember alwaies, that our soule consisteth of two parts, whereof the one is addicted to the truth, loving honestie and reason; the other more brutish, of the owne nature unreasonable, given to untruth and withall passionate. A true friend assisteth evermore the better part, in giving counsell and com­fort, even as an expert and skilfull Physition, who hath an eie that aimeth alwaies at the mainte­nance and encrease of health: but the flatterer doth apply himselfe, and settleth to that part which is voide of reason and full of passions: this he scratcheth, this he tickleth continually, this [Page 100] he stroketh and handleth in such sort, by devising some vicious and dishonest pleasures, that he withdraweth and turneth it away quite from the rule and guidance of reason. Moreover, as there be some kind of viands, which if a man eate, they neither turne unto blood, not ingender spirits, ne yet adde vigor and strength to the nerves and the marrow; but all the good they do, is haply to cause the flesh or genitall parts to rise, to stirre and loose the belly, or to breed some foggie, fantom and halfe rotten flesh, which is neither fast nor sound within; even so, if a man looke neerely and have good regard unto a flatterer, he shall never finde that all the words he useth, minister or procure one jot of good to him that is wise and governed by reason; but feed fooles with the pleasant delights of love; kindle and augment the fire of inconsiderate anger; provoke them unto envie; breed in them an odious and vaine presumption of their owne wit; increase 10 their sorrow and griefe, with moaning them and lamenting with them for companie; set on worke and exasperate their inbred naughtinesse and lewd disposition; their illiberall minde and covetous nature; their diffidence and distrustfulnesse of others; their base and servile timiditie, making them alwaies worse, and apt to conveive ill; more fearefull, jealous and suspicious, by the meanes of some new accusations, false furmises and conjecturall suggestions, which they be ready to put into their heads. For evermore it getteth closely into some vicious passion and affection of the minde, and there lurketh; the same it nourisheth and feedeth fat, but anon it ap­peereth like a botch, rising estsoones upon the corrupt, diseased or inflamed parts of the soule. Art thou angrie with one? punish him (saith he:) Hast thou a minde to a thing? buy it, and make no more adoe: Art thou never so little afraid? let us flie and be gon: Suspectest thou this 20 or that? beleeve it considently (saith he.) But if peradventure, he can hardly be seene and disco­vered about these passions, for that they be so mightie and violent, that oftentimes they chase and expell all use of reason, he will give some vantage to be sooner taken in others that be not so strong and vehement, where we shall find him alwaies the same and like himselfe. For say, a man do suspect that he hath taken a surfeit, either by over liberall feeding or drinking headie wine, and upon that occasion make some doubt to bathe his bodie, or to eate presently againe and lay gorge upon gorge (as they say:) A true friend wil advice him to forbeare & abstaine; he will admonish him to take heed to himselfe and looke to his health: In comes a flatterer, and he will draw him to the baine in all haste; he will bid him to call for some noveltie or other to be set upon the boord, willing him to fall fresh to it againe, and not to punish his body and do him­selfe 30 injurie, by fasting and refusing his meate and drinke: Also if he see him not disposed to take a journey by land or voyage by sea, or to go about any enterprise whatsoever it be, slowly and with an ill will, he will say unto him; either that there is no such great need, or the time is not so convenient, but it may be put off to a farther daie, or it will serve the turne well enough to send others about it. Now if it fall out so, that he having made promise to some familiar friend, either to lend or let him have the use of some money, or to give him it freely, do change his minde and repent of his promise; but yet be some what abashed and ashamed thus to breake his word; the flatterer by and by will put himselfe to the worse and lighter end of the ballance, and make it weigh downe on the purse side, soone excluding and cutting off all shame for the matter: What man! (will he say) Spare your purse and save your silver: you are at a great 40 charge; you keepe a great house, and have many about you which must be maintained and have sufficient; in such sort, that if we be not altogether ignorant of our selves, and wilfully blinde, not seeing that we be covetous, shamelesse, timorous and base minded, we cannot choose but start and finde out a flatterer; neither is it possible that he should escape us. For surely he will evermore defend and maintaine these imperfections, and frankly will he speake his minde in favour there of, if he perceive us to over passe our selves therein. But thus much may suffice as touching these matters.

Let us come now to the uses and services that a flattere is employed in: For in such offices he doth confound, trouble, and darken much the difference betweene him and a true friend; shewing himselfe in apparence, alwaies diligent, ready and prompt in all occurrences, without 50 seeking any colourable pretenses of shifting off, and a refusing to do any thin As for a faith­full friend, his whole carriage and behaviour is simple, like as be the words of truth, as faith Eury­pides, without welts and gards, plaine without plaits, and nothing counterfeit: whereas the con­ditions of a flatterer to say a truth,

not only with wisdome to be ministred and applied, but also many in number, and those (I assure [Page 101] you) of a more exquisite making and composition than any other. And verily as friends many times when they meet one another in the street, passe by without good-morrow or god speed, or any word at all betweene them; onely by some light some looke, cheerefull smile, or amiable regard of the eie reciprocally given and taken, without any other token els, there is testified the good-will and mutuall affection of the heart within: whereas the flatterer runneth toward his friend to meet him, followeth apace at his heeles, spreadeth foorth both his armes abroad, and that afarre off, to embrace him: and if it chance that he be saluted and spoken to first, because the other had an eie on him before, he will with brave words excuse himselfe, yea, and many times call for witnesses, and bind it with great oathes good store, that he saw him not. Even so likewise in their affaires and negociations abroad in the world, friends omit and overslip many small and 10 light things, not searching narrowly into matters, not offering or expecting againe any exqui­quisit service; nothing curious and busie in ech thing, ne yet putting themselves forward to eve­rie kinde of ministerie: but the flatterer is herein double diligent, he will be continually emploi­ed and never rest, without seeming at any time to be weary, no place, no space nor opportunity will he give the other to do any service; he looketh to be called unto and commanded; and if he be not bidden, he will take it ill and be displeased; nay you shall have him then out of heart and discouraged, complaining of his ill fortune, and protesting before God and man, as if he had some great wrong done unto him. These be evident marks and undoubted arguments to such as have wit and understanding, not of a friendship sound, sober & honest, but rather smelling of wanton and whorish love, which is more ready to embrace and clip, than is decent and seemely. 20 Howbeit, to examine the same more particularly, let us consider what difference there is be­tweene a flatterer ahd a friend, as touching the offers and promises that they make. They who have written of this theame before us, say very well, that a friends promise goeth in this forme,

but the offer of a flatterer runneth in this maner,

For such franke promisers and braggers as these, the Poets also use to bring unto the Stage in their Comedies, after this sort; 30

Moreover, you shall not see a friend offer his helping hand or aide in any action, unlesse he were called before to counsell, and his opinion asked of the enterprise, or that he have approo­ved and set downe the same upon good advisement, to be either honest or profitable: where­as the flatterer, if a man should do him so much credit, as to require his consent and approbati­on, 40 or otherwise request him to deliver his opinion of the thing, he, not onely upon a desire to yeeld unto others and to gratifie them; but also for feare to give any suspition that he would seeme to draw backe and avoid to set his hand to any worke or businesse whatsoever, is rea­die with the formost to applie himselfe to the appetite and inclination of another, yea and withall, pricketh and inciteth him forward to enter upon it. And yet lightly you shall find even of rich men and kings, but few or none who can or will come forth with these words;

But now adaies it is farre otherwise; for they are much like unto composers of Tragedies, who will be provided of a quire or dance of their friends to sing with them, or desire to have a Thea­tre of purpose to give applause and clap their hands unto them. And verily whereas Merope in a certaine Tragedie giveth these sage and wise advertisements;

Our Potentates and Grand Seigneurs doe cleane contrary; for such as will not follow their hu­mors, and soothe them up at every word, but gain-say their courses, in making remonstrance of that which is more profitable and expedient; such they disdaine and will not vouchsafe them a good looke. But for those wicked wretches, base minded varlets, and coosening impostors, who can curry favor, they not onely set their doores wide open for such, and receive them into their houses, but they admit them also to conferences with their inward affections and the very se­crets of their heart. Among whom you shall have one more plaine perhaps and simple than the rest, who will say, that it is not for him, neither is he woorthy to deliberate and consult of so great affaires; mary he could be content, and would take upon him, to be a poore servitour and 10 minister, to execute whatsoever were concluded and enjoined him to doe: another more craftie and cunning than his fellowes, is willing enough to be used in counsell, where he will heare all doubts and perils that be cast; his eie-browes shall speake if they will, his head and eies shall nod and make signes, but his tongue shall not speake a word: Say that the partie whom he mindeth to flatter, do utter his minde and what he thinketh good to do: then will he crie out aloud and say, By Hercules I sweare, it was at my tongues end to have said as much, had you not prevented me and taken the word out of my mouth, I would have given you the verie same counsell. For like as the Mathematicians do affirme, that the superficial and outward extremities, the limmes also of the Mathematicall bodies, doe of themselves and in their owne nature, neither bend nor stretch, ne yet moove at all: for that they be intellectuall onely or imaginarie, and not corporal, 20 but according as the bodies do bow, reach or stirre, so do they; so you shall ever finde that a flat­terer, will pronounce, opine, thinke and be mooved to anger, according as he seeth another be­fore him. And therefore in this kind, most easie it is to observe the difference between a flatte­rer and a friend. But yet more evident you shall see it in the manner of doing service. For the offices and kindnesses which come from a friend, are ever best, and (as living creatures) have their most proper vertues inwardly, carrying least in shew, and having no outward ostentation of glorious pompe. And as it falleth out many times a Physitian cureth his patient, and saieth little or nothing at all unto him, but doth the deed ere he be aware; even so, a good friend whe­ther he be present or departed from his friend, doth him good still, and taketh care for him when he ful little knoweth of it. Such a one was Arcesilaus the Philosopher, who beside many o­ther 30 other kind parts which he shewed unto his friend Apelles, the painter of Chios, comming one day to visite him when he was sicke, & perceiving how poore he was, went his way for that time: and when he returned againe, brought twentie good drachmes with him: and then sitting close un­to Apelles by his beds side: Here is nothing here (quoth he) I see well, but these foure bare Ele­ments that Empedocles writeth of,

But me thinkes you lie not at your ease; and with that he remooved the pillow or bolster under his head, and so conveighed underneath it privily, the small pieces of coine aforesaid. The old woman his nourse and keeper, when she made the bed, found this money: whereat she marvel­led 40 not a little, and told Apelles thereof, who laughing thereat: This is (quoth he) one of Arce­silaus his theevish casts. And for that it is a Maxime in Philosophie, that children are bome like their parents, one Lacydes a schollar of Arcesilaus aforesaid, being assistant with many others to a friend of his named Cephisocrates, when he came to his triall in a case of treason against the State: in pleading of which cause, the accuser his adversarie called for Cephisocrates his ring, a pregnant evidence that made against him, which he had cleanly slipped from his finger & let it fall to the ground; whereof the said Lacydes being advised, set his foote presently over it, and so kept it out of sight: for that the maine proofe of the matter in question lay upon that ring. Now after sentence passed on Cephisocrates his side, and that he was cleerely acquit of the crime, he went privately to everie one of the judges for to give them thanks: One of them who (as it 50 should seeme) had seene what was done, willed him to thanke Lacydes: and with that told how the case stood, and how it went with him as it did: but all this while Lacydes himselfe had not said a word to any creature. Thus I thinke verily, that the gods themselves doe bestow many benefits and favours upon men secretly, and whereof they be not aware; being of this nature to take joy and pleasure in bountifulnesse and doing good. Contrariwise, the office that a flatterer seemeth to performe, hath nothing in it that is just, nothing true, nothing simple, nothing libe­rall: onely you shall see him sweat at it; you shall have him runne up and downe; keepe a loude [Page 103] crying & a great ado, and set his countenance upon the matter, so as that he maketh right good semblance & shew that he doth especiall service, taketh much care & paines about his busines: & maketh hast to dispatch it: and much like are all his doings to a curious picture, which with strange colours, with broken plaits, wrinkles and angles, affecteth and striveth (as it were) to shew some lively resemblance. Moreover, much ado he maketh, & is troublesome in telling how he went to and fro, wandring here and there about the matter; also what a deale of care he tooke therein; how he incurred the evill wil & displeasure of others; and a thousand hinderances, trou­bles & dangers, as besides he reckoneth up; insomuch as a man that heareth, would say; All that ever he did was not worth so much as the twittle twattle that he maketh. For surely a good turne that is upbraided in that wise, becōmeth burthensome, odious, & not thankfully accepted, but in­tollerable. 10 In all the offices & services of a flatterer, you shall find these upbraidings and shame­full reports, that would make one blush to heare them, and those not onely after the deed done, but at the verie instant when he is about it. But in steed hereof, a true friend, if it fall out so, that he be forced and urged to relate what is done, maketh a plaine report and narration in modest manner; but of himselfe he will neuer say word. After which sort did the Lacedaemonians in times past, when they had sent corne unto the Smyrnaeans, which, in their extreme necessitie they craved at their hands: For at what time as the men of Smyrna magnified, and wonderfully extolled this liberalitie of theirs, they returned this answere againe: This is not so great a mat­ter that it should deserve so highly to be praised or wondered at: for (say they) gathered we have thus much, and made this supply of your necessities, onely by cutting our selves and our labou­ring 20 beasts short of one daies pittance and allowance. Bountie in this wise performed, is not onely gentleman-like and liberall indeed, but also more welcome and acceptable to the recei­vers; in as much as they thinke it was no great damage, nor much out of their way that did it. Furthermore, not onely this odious fashion of doing any service with such paine and trouble, or the readinesse to make offer and promise so quickly, doth principally bewray the nature of a flatterer: but herein also much more he may be discovered: for that a friend is willingly em­ployed in honest causes: but a flatterer in shameful and dishonest: as also in the divers ends that they purpose; for the one seeketh to profit his friend, the other to please onely a friend; as Gor­gtas was woont to say, will never require that his friend should do him a pleasure, but in just things onely: whiles a flatterer serveth his turne in many things that are unjust: For why? 30

whereas he should endevour to avert and withdraw him from that which is not decent, or seem­ly: Now if it happen that the other will not be perswaded by him, then were it not amisse to say unto him, as Antipater once answered Phocion; You cannot have me to be a friend and flatte­rer too (that is to say) a friend, and no friend. For one friend is to stand to another, and to assist him in doing, and not in misdoing, in consulting, and not in complotting and conspiring, in bearing witnesse with him of the truth, and not in circumventing any one by falshood, yea and to take part with him in suffring calamitie, and not to beare him company in doing injurie: For say that we may chance to be privie unto some shamefull and reprochfull deeds of our friend; 40 yet we ought not to be partie unto them therein, nor willing to aide them in any undecent acti­on. For like as the Lacedaemonians being defaited in battell by king Antipater, and treating with him about the capitulations and articles of peace, made request unto him, That he would impose upon them what conditions he would himselfe, were they never so chargeable and dis­advantageous unto them, but in no wise enjoine them to do any shamefull indignitie; even so a faithfull friend ought to be so disposed, that if his friends occasions do require any matter of expence, danger, or travaile, he shew himselfe at the first call and holding up of his finger, rea­dy to come, and cheerefully to take his part and undergo the same, without any shifting off, or allegation of any excuse whatsover: mary, if there be never so little shame or dishonor that may accrew thereby, he shall then refuse and pray him to hold him excused; he shall request pardon 50 and desire to have leave for to be dismissed and depart in peace. The flatterer is quite contrary: for in painfull, difficult and dangerous affaires, which require his helpe and assistance, he draw­eth backe, and is ready to plucke his necke out of the collar: if (I say) in this case you seeme for triall sake to knocke (as it were upon a pot) to see whether he be right, he will not ring cleere; but you shall see by the dead sound of his pretended and forged excuses, that he is full of cracks and flawes: contrariwise, in dishonest, vile, base and shamefull ministeries, I am for you (will he say) I am yours to command; doe with me what you will, tread me under your foot, abuse me at [Page 104] your pleasure: to be short, he will thinke nothing to be an ignominious indignity unto him. See you not the ape? good he is not to keepe the house and to give warning of thieues, as dogs do; cary upon his backe any burdens he can not, like the horse; neither yet is he fit to draw or to plough the ground, as the oxedoth; and therefore he beareth all kinde of abuse and misusing, all wrongs, all unhappy sports and trickes that can be devised, serving onely as an instrument of mockerie, and a meere laughing stocke. Even so it fareth with a flatterer, being not meet to plead at the barre for a friend, to assist him in counsell, to lay his hand to his purse and supply his wants that way, nor to fight as his champion in maintenance of his quarrell, as one that can a­way with no labour, no paines taking, or serious emploiment; and in one word, fit for nothing, that good is: mary in such affaires as may be done under the arme, that is to say, which be close 10 secret and filthy services, he is the forwardest man in the world, and maketh no excuses. A tru­stie currier he is betweene, in love matters, in finding favour with a bawd and bringing a wench or harlot to your bedde, he excellent, and hath a marvellous gift; to make the shot, and cleere the recknoning of any sumptuous feast or banket hee is ready and perfect; in providing for great dinner or supper, and setting the same foorth accordingly, he is nothing slow, but nimble enough. To give enterteinment unto concubines he is very handsome, obsequious and serviceable; if one bid him to speake audaciously and malapertly against a father in law, a guardian, tutour, or any such, or to put away his true espoused wife, like as he seeth his good master do before him, he is without all shame & mercy: so that even heerein also it is no hard matter to see what kinde of man he is, and how much he differeth from a true friend: For com­maund 20 him to commit what villanie and wickednesse you will, ready he is to execute the same, and so he may gratifie and pleasure you that set him on worke, he careth not to do any injurie to himselfe.

There is moreover another meanes not of the least consequence, whereby a man may know how much a flatterer differeth from a friend indeed, namely, by his disposition and beha­viour towards his other friends: for a true friend findeth contentment in nothing so much as to love many, and likewise to be loved of many; and herein he laboureth especially with his friend to procure himselfe many others to love and honor him: for being of this opinion, that among good friends all things are common, he thinketh that nothing ought to be more com­mon than friends themselves. But the supposed, false and counterfeit friend, being privie to his 30 owne conscience, that he doth great injurie to true amitie and friendship, which he doth cor­rupt in manner of a base piece of money: as he is by nature envious, so he exerciseth that envie of his, upon such as be like himselfe, striving with a kinde of emulation to surpasse them in scur­rile speech, giving of taunts and garrulitie, but before such as he knoweth better than himselfe, he trembleth and is afraid, and in truth dare not come neere nor shew his face to such an one, no more (I assure you) than a footman to go and keepe pace (according to the Proverb) with a Lydian chariot, or rather (as Simonides saith,

Being compared with true, sound and grave friendship, which (as they say) will endure the ham­mer, 40 he cannot choose but finde himselfe to be but light, falsified and deceitfull: seeing then that he must needs be detected and knowen, for such an one as he is, what doth he thinkey you? Surely he plaieth like an unskilfull painter, who had painted certaine cockes, but verie badly: For like as he gave commandement to his boy for to keepe away naturall and living cockes in deed, farre ynough off from his pictures; so a flatterer will doe what he can to chase away true friends, and not suffer them to approch neere; or if he be not able so to do, than openly and in publike place, he will seeme to currie favour with them, to honor and admire them, as farre bet­ter than himselfe: but secretly, underhand, and behinde their backs, he will not let to raise some privie calumniations, & sowe slanderous reports tending to their discredit: but if he see that by such privie girds and pinches which will fret and gall the sore, he cannot at the first bring his 50 purpose about: yet hee remembreth full well and observeth the saying of Medius. This Medius was the chiefe captaine of the troupe, or the master rather of the quire (if I may so say) of all those flatterers that used the court of king Alexander the great, & came about his per­son; the principall Sophister also that opposed himselfe and banded against all good men, and never rested to stander and backbite them: This rule and lesson he taught his scholars and qui­risters that were under his hand, To cast out standers boldly, and not to spare, terewith to bite others: For (quoth he) although the sore may heale up againe, yet the scarre will remaine [Page 105] and be ever seene. By these cicatrices and scarres of false imputations, or (to speake more pro­perly and truly) by such gangrenes and cankerous ulcers as these, Alexander the king being corroded and eaten, did to death Calisthenes, Parmenion, and Philotas, his fast & faithfull friends: but to such as Agnon, Bagoas, Agesias and Demetrius were, he abandoned and gave himselfe. wholy to be supplanted and overthrowen at their pleasure, whiles he was by them adored, ador­ned, arraied gorgeously with rich robes, and set out like a Barbarian image, statue or idoll. Loe what is the force and power of flatterie to win grace and favor; and namely in those, who would be reputed the mightiest monarches and greatest potentates of the world, it beareth most sway: For such are perswaded, and desirous also, that the best things should be in themselves; and this is it, that giveth both credite and also boldnesse unto a flatterer. True it is I must confesse, that 10 the highest places and forts situate upon the loftiest mounts, are least accessible and most hard to be gained by those who would surprise and force them; but where there is an high spirit and haughtie minde by nature, not guided by the same judgement of reason, but lifted up with the favors of fortune, or nobilitie of birth, it is the easiest matter in the world even for most base and vile persons to conquer such, and the avennes to them lie ready and open, to give the van­tage of easiest entrance. And therefore as in the beginning of this Treatise I gave warning; so now I admonish the Readers againe in this place; That every man would labour and strive with himselfe to roote out that selfe love and overweening that they have of their owne good parts and woorthinesse: For this is it that doth flatter us within, and possesseth our minds before hand, whereby we are exposed and lie more open unto flatterers that are without, sinding us 20 thus prepared already for to worke upon. But if we would obey the god Apollo, and by acknow­ledging how much in all things we ought to esteeme that oracle of his, which commandoth us To know our selves, search into our owne nature, and examine withall our nouriture and edu­cation: when we finde there an infinire number of defects, and many vanities, imperfections and faults, mixed untowardly in our words, deeds, thoughts and passions, we would not so easily suffer these flatterers to tread us under their feete, and make a bridge of us as they do at their pleasure. King Alexander the great was woont to say, that two things there were especially which mooved him to have lesse beleefe in them, who saluted and greeted him by the name of a God: The one was Sleepe, & the other the use of Venus: in both which he found that he was worse than himselfe, that is to say, subject to infirmities and passions more than in any thing els: 30

But if we would looke into our selves and ever and anon consider, how many grosse vices, trou­blesome passions, imperfections and defects we have, surely we shall finde that we stood in great neede, not of a false friend to flatter us in our follies, and to praise and extoll us; but ra­ther of one that would frankely finde fault with our doings, and reproove us in those vices that ech one privately and in particular doth commir. But very few there be among many others, who dare freely and plainely speake unto their friends, but rather sooth them up and seeke to please them in every thing: And even in those, as few as they be, hardly shall you find any that know how to do it well, but for the most part they thinke that they speake freely, when they do nothing but reproove, reproch and raile. Howbeit, this libertie of speech where of I speake, is of the nature of a medicine, which if it be not given in time convenient and as it ought to be, 40 besides, that it doth no good at all, it troubleth the body, worketh greevance, and in stead of a remedie prooveth to be a mischiefe: For even so, he that doth reprehend and find fault unsea­sonably, bringeth foorth the like effect with paine, as flatterer doth with pleasure. For men are apt to receive hurt and damage, not onely by overmuch praise; but also by inordinate blame when it is out of due time: for it is the onely thing that of all others maketh them soonest to turne side unto flatterers, and to be most easily surprised by them; namely, when from those things that stand most opposite and highest against them, they turne aside like water, and run downe those waies that be more low, easie, and hollow. In which regardit behooveth that this libertie in fault finding, be tempered with a cettaine amiable affection, and accompanied with the judgement of reason, which may take away the excessive vehemencie and force of sharpe 50 words, like the over-bright shining of some glittering light, & for feare lest their friends being dazeled as it were and frighted with the flashing beames of their rebukes, seeing themselves so reprooved for ech thing, and blamed every while, may take such a griefe and thought thereup­on, that for sorrow they be ready to flie unto the shadow of some flatterer, and turne toward that which will not trouble them at all. For we must avoid all vice, (ô Philopappus) and seeke to cor­rect the same by the meanes of vertue (& not by another vice contrary unto it) as some do; who for to shun foolish and rusticall bashfulnesse, grow to be overbold and impudent; for to eschew [Page 106] rude incivilitie, fall to be ridiculous jesters and pleasants; and then they thinke to be farthest off from cowardise and effeminate tendernesse, when they come neerest to extreme audacitie and boasting braverie. Others there be, who to proove themselves not to be superstitious, become meere Atheists; and because they would not be though and reputed idiots and fooles, proove artificiall conny-catchers. And surely in redressing the enormities of their maners, they do as much as those, who for want of knowledge and skill to set a peece of wood streight that twineth and lieth crooked one way, do curbe and bend it as much another way. But the most shamefull means to avoid & shun the suspicion of a flatterer, is to make a mans selfe odious & troublesom without profit; and a very rude and rusticall fashion this is, of seeking to win favor, and that with favour of no learning, skill, and civilitie, to become unpleasant, harsh, and sowre to a friend, for 10 to shunne that other extreame, which in friendship seemeth to be base and servile; which is as much, as if a freed slave newly franchised, should in a Comedie thinke that he could not use and enjoy his libertie of speech, unlesse he might be allowed licenciously to accuse another without controlment. Considering then, that it is a foule thing to fall to flatterie, in studying to please, as also for the avoiding of flatterie, by immoderate libertie of speech, to corrupt and marre, as­well the grace of amitie and winning love, as the care of remedying and reforming that which is amisse: and seeing that we ought to avoid both the one and the other: and as in all things else, so free speaking, is to have the perfection from a meane and mediocritie; reason would, and by order it were requisit, that toward the end of this Treatise, we should adde somewhat in maner of a corollarie and complement, as touching that point. 20

Forasmuch as therefore we see that this libertie of language and reprehension hath many vi­ces following it, which doe much hurt: let us assay to take them away one after another, and be­gin first with blinde selfe-love and private regards: where we ought especially to take heed that we be not seene to do any thing for our owne interest, and in respect of our selves; and namely, that we seeme not, for wrong that we have received our selves, or upon any griefe of our owne, to reproch, upbraid, or revile other men: for they will never take it as done for any love or good will that we beare unto them, but rather upon some discontentment and heart-burning that we have, when they see that our speech tendeth unto a matter wherein we are interessed our selves; neither will they repute our words spoken by way of admonition unto them, but rather inter­pret them as a complaint of them. For surely the libertie of speech whereof we treat, as it respe­cteth 30 the welfare of our friend, so it is grave and venerable; whereas complaints savour rather of selfe-love and a base minde. Hereupon it is that we reverence, honour and admire those who for our good deliver their minds frankly unto us: contrariwise, we are so bolde as to accuse, cha­lenge and charge reciprocally, yea, and contemne those that make complaints of us. Thus we reade in Homer, That Agamemnon, who could not beare and endure Achilles, when he seemed to tell him his minde after a moderate maner; but he was well enough content to abide and suffer Ulysses, who touched him neere, and bitterly rebuked him in this wise:

As sharpe a checke as this was, yet being delivered by a wise man, proceeding from a carefull minde, and tendering the good of the common weale, he gave place thereto, and kicked not a­gaine: for this Ulysses had no private matter, nor particular quarell against him, but spake frankly for the benefit of all Greece: whereas Achilles seemed to be offended and displeased with him principally, for some private matter betwene them twaine. And even Achilles also himselfe, although he was never knowen for to be a man of a gentle nature and of a milde spirit,

endured Patroclus patiently, and gave him not a word againe, notwithstanding he taunted and tooke him up in this wise:

For like as Hyperides the Oratour required the Athenians (who complained that his orations were bitter) to consider of him, not onely whether he were sharpe & eager simply, but whether he were so upon no cause, nor taking any fee; even so, the admonition and reprehension of a friend, being syncere and cleansed pure from all priuate affection, ought to be reverenced: it ca­rieth (I say) authoritie with it, and no exceptions can well be taken, nor a man dare lift up an eie against it: in such sort, as if it appeare that he who chideth freely, and blameth his friend, doeth 10 let passe and reject all those faults which hee hath committed against him, and maketh no men­tion therof, but toucheth those errours & misdemeanors only which concerne others, and they spare him not, but pierce & bite to the quicke: the vehemency of such free speech is invincible, and can not be challenged, for the mildnes & good will of the chastiser, doth fortifie the austeri­tie & bitternes of the chastisement. Well therefore it was said in old time; That whensoever we are angry, or at some jarre & variance with our friends, then most of all we ought to have an eie unto their good, and to study how to do somewhat that is either profitable unto them, or hono­rable for them. And no lesse materiall is this also to the maintenance of friendship, if they that thinke themselves to be despised and not well regarded of their friends, do put them in mind, and tell them frankly of others, who are neglected by them, and not accounted of as they should 20 be. Thus dealt Plato with Denys, at what time he was in disgrace, and saw how he made no rec­koning at all of him: For he came unto the Tyrant upon a time, and requested that he might have a day of audience and leave to conferre with him: Denys graunted his request, supposing verily that Plato had a purpose to complaine and expostulat with him in his owne behalfe, and thereupon to discourse with him at large: But Plato reasoned and debated the matter with him in this manner: Sir (quoth he) ô Denys, if you were advertised and knew that some enemie or evill willer of yours were arrived and landed in Sicilie, with a full intention to do you some dis­pleasure, although he had no opportunitie or meanes to execute and effect the same, would you let him faile away againe & depart from Sicily, with impunity, and before he were talked withall? I tro not ô Plato (quoth Denys) but I would looke to him well enough for that: For we ought to 30 hate & punish not the actions onely, but the verie purposes and intentions also of enemies. But how and if (quoth Plato againe) on the contrarie side; some other being expressely and of pur­pose come for meere love and affection that he beareth unto you, and fully minded to doe you some pleasure, or to advice you for your good, you will give him neither time nor opportunitie therfore; is it meet (think you) that he should be thus unthankfully dealt withal, or hardly entrea­ted at your hands? With that Dionysius was somewhat mooved, and demanded who that might be? Aeschines (quoth Plato) is he, a man faire conditioned, and of as honest carriage and behavi­our, as any one that ever came out of Socrates schoole, or daily and familiarly conversed with him; sufficient and able by his eloquence and pithie speech to reforme the maners of those with whom he keepeth companie: This Aeschines (I say) having taken a long voyage over 40 sea and arrived here, intending for to conferre with you philosophically is nothing regarded, nor set by at all. These words touched Denys so to the verie quicke, that presently he not onely tooke Plato in his armes, embracing him most lovingly, and yeelding him great thankes for that kindnesse, & highly admiring his magnanimity; but also from that time forward, entreated Aeschines right courteously, and did him all the honor that he could.

Secondly, this libertie of speech which now is in hand, we ought to cleere and purge cleane from all contumelious and injurious words, from laughter, scoffes, and scurrile taunts, which are the hurtfull and unholesome sauces (as I may say) wherewith many use to season their free language. For like as a Chirurgian, when he maketh incision and cutteth the flesh of his pati­ent, had need to use great dexteritie, to have a nimble hand and an even; yea and every thing 50 neat and fine belonging to this worke and operation of his: as for all dauncing, gesticulations besides of his singers, toyish motions, and superfluous agitation thereof, to shew the agilitie of his hand, he is to forbeare for that time: So this libertie of speech unto a friend, doth admit well a certaine kind of elegancie and civilitie, provided, alwaies that the grace thereof retaine still a decent and comely gravitie, whereas if it chaunce to have audacious braverie, sancie impuritie, and insolencie, to the hurt or hinderance of credit, it is utterly marred and looseth all authoritie. And therefore it was not an unproper and unelegant speech, wherewith a musitian upon a time [Page 108] stopped King Philips mouth that he had not a word to say againe: For when he was about to have disputed and contested against the saide minstrell, as touching good fingering, and the sound of the severall strings of his instrument: Oh sir (quoth he) God forbid that ever you should fall to so low an estate, as to be more cunning in these matters than I. But contrariwise Epicharmus spake not so aptly and to the purpose in this behalfe: For when King Hiero who a little before had put to death some of his familiar acquaintance, invited him not many daies after to supper. Yea marie sir, but the other day when you sacrificed, you bad not your friends to the feast. And as badly answered Antiphon, who upon a time when there was some question before Denys the Tyrant, what was the best kinde of brasse: Marie that (quoth he) whereof the Athenians made the Statutes of Harmodius and Aristogiton. Such speeches as these, are tart, 10 and biting, and no good can come thereof, neither hath that scurrilite and scoffing manner any delight, but a kinde of intemperance it is of the toong, mingled with a certaine maliciousnes of minde, implying a will to do hurt and injurie, and shewing plaine enmitie, which as many as use, worke their owne mischiefe and destruction, dauncing (as the Proverb saith) a daunce unto­wardly about a pits brinke, or jesting with edged tooles. For surely it cost Antiphon his life, who was put to death by the said Denys. And Timagenes lost for ever the favour and friend­ship of Augustus Caesar, not for any franke speech and broad language that ever he used against him: but onely because he had taken up a foolish fashion at everie feast or banket, whereunto the Emperor invited him, and whensoever he walked with him, eftsoones and to no purpose he would come out with these verses in Homer, 20

pretending that the cause of that favour which he had with the Emperor, was the grace and gift that he had in flouting and reviling others: and even the verie comicall Poëts in old time, exhi­bited and represented to the Theaters, many grave, austere and serious remonstrances, and those pertaining to policy & goverment of State: but there be scurrile speeches intermingled among, for to moove laughter, which (as one unsavorie dish of meate among many other good viands) marre all their libertie of speech and the benefit thereof; so as it is vaine and doth no good at all: And even so the Authors and Actors of such broad jests get nothing thereby, but an opi­nion and imputation of a malicious disposition and impure scurrilitie: and to the hearers there 30 accreweth no good nor profit at all. At other times and in other places, I hold well with it, and grant, that to jest with friends and moove laughter is tolerable enough: but surely the libertie of speech then, ought to be serious and modest, shewing a good intention without any purpose to gall or sting. And if it do concerne weightie affaires indeed, let the words be so set and couched, the affection so appeere, the countenance be so composed, and the gesture so ordred, and the voice so tuned, that all concurring together may win credite to the speech, and be effectuall to moove. But as in all things els, fit opportunity overslipt and neglected doth much hurt; so especially it is the occasion that the fruit of free speech is utterly lost, in case it be omitted and forgotten. Moreover this is evident, that we must take heed how we speake broad at a table where friends be met together to drinke wine liberally and to make good cheere: for he that 40 amid pleasant discourses and mery talke mooveth a speech that causeth bending and knitting of browes, or others, maketh men to frowne and be frowning, he doth as much as overcast faire weather with a blacke and darke cloud; opposing himselfe unto that God Some read Lydius. Lyaeus, who by good right hath that name, as Pindarus the Poet saith,

Besides, this neglect of opportunitie bringeth with it great danger; for that our minds and spi­rits, kindled once with wine, are easie enflamed with cholar; yea and oftentimes it falleth out, that a man after he hath taken his drinke well, when he thinketh but to use his freedome of tongue for to give some wholesome advertisement and admonition, ministreth occasion of 50 great enmitie. And to say all in few words, it is not the part of a generous, confident, and reso­lute heart, but rather of a craven kind and unmanly, to forbeare plaine speech when men are sober, and to keepe a barking at the boord, like unto those cowardly cur dogs who never snarle but about a bone under the table. And now of this point, needlesse it is to discourse any longer.

But forasmuch as many men neither will nor dare controll and reforme their friends when they do amisse, so long as they be in prosperitie; as being of opinion that such admonition can not have accesse nor reach into a fortunate state that standeth upright; and yet the same per­sous [Page 109] when men are falling, are ready to lay them along, and being once downe, to make a foot­ball of them, or tread them under feet, or else keepe them so when they be once under the hat­ches, giving their libertie of speech full scope to run over them all at once; as a brooke-water which having beene kept up perforce against the nature and course thereof, is now let go, and the floud-gates drawen up; rejoicing at his change and infortunitie of theirs, in regard as well of their pride and arrogancie, who before disdained and despised them; as also of themselves, who are but in meane and lowestate: it were not impertinent to this place for to discourse a little of this matter, and to answere that verse of Euripides,

Namely, that even then when as they seeme to have fortune at commaund, they stand in most necessitie, and ought to have their friends about them, to plucke downe their plumes and bring under their haughtinesse of heart, occasioned by prosperitie: for few there be who with their outward felicitie continue wise and sober in mind, breaking not foorth into insolence; yea & many there are who have need of wit, discretion and reason to be put into them from without, to abate and depresse them being set a gog and puffed up with the favors of fortune: But say, that the Divine power do change and turne about, and overthrow their state, or clip their wings and diminish their greatnesse and authoritie, then these calamities of themselves are scourges sufficient, putting them in minde of their errors, and working repentance: and then in such di­stresse there is no use at all either of friendsto speake unto them frankly, or of pinching and bi­ting 20 speeches, to molest, and trouble them, but to say a truth, in these mutations

who may yeeld consolation, comfort and strength to a distressed heart, like as Xenophon doth write, that in battailes and the greatest extremities of danger, the amiable visage and cheerefull countenance of Clearchus being once seene of the souldiors, encouraged them much more to play the men and fight lustily: whereas he that useth unto a man distressed, such plaine speech as may gall and bite him more, doth as much as one who unto a troubled and inflamed eie ap­plieth some quicke eie-salve or sharpe drug that is proper for to cleere the sight: by which meane he cureth not the infirmitie before said, neither doth he mitigate or alay the paine, but 30 unto sorrow and griefe of minde already addeth anger moreover, and doth exasperate a woun­ded heart. And verily so long as a man is in the latitude of health, he is not so testie, froward, and impatient, but that he will in some sort give eare unto his friend, and thinke him neither rough nor altogether rude and uncivill, in case he tell him of his loosenesse of life, how he is gi­ven too much either unto women or wine; or if he finde fault with his idlenesse and sitting still, or contrariwise his excessive exercise; if he reproove him for haunting so often the baines or hot-houses, and never lying out of them, or blame him for gourmandise and belly cheere, or eating at undue houres. But if he be once sicke, then it is a death unto him and a griefe insup­portable, which doth aggravate his maladie, to have one at his bedside sounding ever in his eares; See what comes of your drunkennesse, your idlenesse, your surfetting and gluttony, 40 your wenching and leacherie, these are the causes of your disease. But what will the sicke man say againe: Away good sir with these unseasonable words of yours: you trouble me much, and do me no good iwis: I am about making my last will and testament; my Physicians are busie preparing and tempering a potion of Scammonie, or a drinke of Castorium for me: and you come preaching unto me with your Philosophicall reasons and admonitions to chastise me: I have no need of them now, nor of such friends as you. Semblably it fareth with those who are fallen to decay & be downe the winde; for capable they be not of sententious sawes; they have no need as the case now stands of free reprehensions: then lenitie and gentle usage, aide and comfort are more meet for them. For even so, kinde nurses when their little babes and infants have caught a fall, run not by and by to rate or chide them, but to take them up, wash and make 50 them cleane where they were berayed, and to still them by all meanes that they can; afterwards, they rebuke and chastise them for looking no better to their feet. It is reported of Demetrius the Phalerian, when being banished out of his countrey, he lived at Thebes in meane estate and very obscurely, that at the first he was not well pleased to see Crates the Philosopher who came to visit him, as looking ever when he would begin with some rough words unto him, according to that libertie of speech which those Cynicke Philosophers then used: but when he heard Cra­tes once speake kindly unto him, and discoursing after a milde maner, of the state of his banish­ment; [Page 110] namely, That there was no miserie fallen unto him by thatmeanes, not any calamitie at all, for which he should vexe and torment himselfe; but rather that he had cause to rejoice, in that hewas sequestred and delivered from the charge and management of such affaires as were ticklish, mutable and dangerous; and withall exhorting him to plucke up his heart, and be of good cheere, yea, and repose all his comfort in his owne selfe and a cleere conscience. Then Demetrius being more lightsome, and taking better courage, turned to his friends and said, Shame take those affaires and businesses; out upon those troublesome and restlesse occupati­ons, which have kept me from the knowledge and acquaintance of such a worthy man: For

And verily this is the maner of generous and gentle friends; but other base minded and abject fellowes, who flatter and fawne whiles fortune doth smile; like unto olde ruptures, spasnes and cramps (as Demosthenes saith) do then stirre and shew themselves, when any new accident hap­neth unto the bodie, so they also sticke close to every change and alteration of fortune, as being glad thereof, and taking pleasure and contentment therein. For, say that a man afflicted, were to be put in mind of his fault and misgovernment of himselfe, by reason that he hath taken lewd courses and followed ill counsell, and so fallen into this or that inconvenience, it were suffici­ent to say thus unto him, 20

In what cases and occurrences then, ought a friend to be earnest and vehement? and when is he to use his libcrtie of speech, and extend it to the full? even then, when occasion is offered, and the time serveth best to represse excessive pleasure, to restraine unbridled choler, to refraine intollerable pride and insolencie, to stay insatiable avarice, or to stand against any foolish habitude and inconsiderate motion. Thus Solon spake freely unto king Craesus, when hee saw how he was cleane corrupted, and growen beyond all measure arrogant upon the opinion that he had of his felicitie in this world, which was vncertaine, advertising him to looke unto the end. Thus Socrates clipped the wings of Alcibiades, and by convincing his vice and errour, caused 30 him to weepe bitterly, and altered quite the disposition of his heart. Such were the remonstran­ces and admonitions of Cyrus to Cyaxares, and of Plato to Dion, even when he was in his greatest ruffe, in the very height of his glory: when (I say) all mens eies were upon him, for his worthie acts and great successe in all affaires, willing him even then to take heed and beware of arrogan­cie and selfe-conceiet, as being the vice that dwelleth in the same house together with solitude, (that is to say) which maketh a man to live apart from the whole world. And to the same effect wrote Speusippus also unto him, when be bad him looke to himselfe, and not take a pride and pre­sume much vpon this; That there was no talke among women and children, but of him; rather that he should have care so to adorne Sicilie with religion and pietie towards the gods, with justice and good lawes in regard of men, that the schoole of the Academie might have honour 40 and credit by him. Contrariwise, Euctaeus and Eulaeus, two minions and favourites of king Per­seus, who followed his veine and pleased his humor in all things, like other courtiours of his, all the while that he flourished, and so long as the world went on his side: but after he had lost the field in a battell against the Romans, fought neere the citie Pydna, and was fled, they let flie at him grosse tearmes and reprochfull speeches, bitterly laying to his charge all the misdemeanors and faults that he had before committed, casting in his dish those persons whom he had evill in­treated or despised; which they ceased not to doe so long, untill the man (partly for sorrow, and partly for anger) was so mooved, that he stabbed them both with his dagger, and slew them in the place. Thus much in generall may suffice, to determine and define as touching the oppor­tunity of free speech to friends: meane while a faithfull and carefull friend must not reject such 50 occasions as many times are presented unto him by them, but to take hold thereof quickly, and make good use of them: for otherwhiles it falleth out, that a demand or question asked, a narra­tion related, a reprehension or commendation of like things in other persons, open the doore and make way for us to enter, and giveth us leave to speake frankly. After this maner it is said, that Demaratus tooke his vantage to utter his minde freely: who comming upon a time from Corinth to Macedonie, when as King Philip was in some termes of dissension with his wife and sonne, was friendly received by Philip and bidden kindly welcome. Now after salutations and [Page 111] other complements passed betweene; the King asked him whether the Greekes were at accord and unitie one with another? Demaratus, as he was a friend verie inward with him, and one that loved him hartily, answered thus; It becommeth you well in deed sir to enquire of the concord and agreement betweene the Athenians and the Peloponnesians, when in the meane while you suffer your owne house to be full of domesticall quarrels and debates. Well did Diogenes like­wise, who being come into the campe of King Philip, when he had an expedition or journey against the Greekes, was taken and brought before the King, who not knowing what hee was, demaunded of him, If hee were not a spie: Yes marie (quoth hee) and come I am to spie out your inconsiderate folly (ô Philip) and want of forecast, who being not urged nor compelled by any man, are come thus farre to hazard in one hower the State of your kingdome 10 and your owne life, and to lay all upon the chance and cast of adie. But some man peradven­ture will say, This was a speech somewhat with the sharpest, and too much biting Moreover, another fit time and occasion there is of admonition, when those whom we minde to reproove, having beene reproched and taunted already by others for some faults which they committed, are become submisse and cast downe to our hands. Which opportunitie a wise and skilfull friend will not omit, but make especial good use of: namely, by seeming in open place to check those that thus have standered them, yea and to repulse and put backe such opprobrious imputa­tions, but privatly he will take his friend apart by himselfe, and put him in minde to live more warily and give no such offence, if for no other thing else; yet because his enemies should not take vantage, and beare themselves insolently against him: For how shall they be able to open 20 their mouthes against you, & what mis-word can they have to say unto you, if you would leave these things and cast them behinde you, for which you heare ill and are growen to some oblo­quie? In this sort if the matter be handeled, all the offence that was taken shall light upon the head of the first slanderer, and the profit shall be attributed unto the other that gave the friendly advertisement, and he shall goe away with all the thankes.

Some there be moreover who after a more cleanly and fine maner in speaking of others, ad­monish their owne familiar friends: for they will accuse strangers in their hearing for those faults which they know them to commit, and by this meanes reclaime them from the same. Thus Ammontus our master perceiving when he gave lecture in the after-noone that some of us his scholars, had taken a larger dinner, and eate more than was meet for students, commanded a 30 servant of his franchised, to take up his owne some and to beate him, and why so? He cannot for sooth make his dinner (quoth he) but he must have some vineger to his meat. And in say­ing so, he cast his eie upon us, in such sort, that as many as were culpable, tooke themselvesto be rebuked, & thought that he meant them. Furthermore, this good regard would be observed, that we never use this fashion of free speech, and reprooving our friend in the presence of many persons, but we must remember that which befell unto Plato: for when upon a time, Socrates in a disputation held at the table, inveighed somwhat too bitterly against against one of his fami­liars before them all: had it not beene better (quoth Plato) to have told him of this privately, but thus to shame him before all this companie? But Socrates taking him presently therewith. And you also might have done better to have saide this to my selfe, when you had found me 40 alone. Pythagor as report gave such hard tearmes by way of reproose to one of his scholars, and acquaintance in the hearing of many, that the yoong man for very griefe of heart was weary of his life and hanged himselfe. But never would Pythagor as after to his dying day, reproove or admonish any man, if another were in place. And to say a truth, as well the detection as the cor­rection of a sinne ought to be secret, and not in publike place, like as the discoverie and cure also of some filthie and foule disease: it must not I say be done in the veiw of the world (as if some shew or pompe were to be exhibited unto the people) with calling witnesses or spectators there­to. For it is not the part of a friend, but a tricke of some Sophister, to seeke for glorie in other mens faults, and affect outward shew and vaine ostentation in the presence of others: much like to these Mount-bank Chirurgians, who for to have the greater practise, make shew of their cun­ning 50 casts, and operations of their art in publike Theatres, with many gesticulations of their handy-worke. Moreover, besides that there should no infamie grow to him that is reprooved (which in deed is not to be allowed in any cure or remedie) there ought also to be some regard had of the nature of vice and sinne, which for the most part of it selft is opinionative, contenti­ous, stubborne and apt to stand to it, and make meanes of defence. For as Euripides saith,

[Page 112] But any vice whatsoever it be and everie imperfection, if a man do reproove it in publike place before many, and spare not at all, putteth on the nature of impudence and turneth to be shame­lesse: like as therefore Plato giveth a precept, that elder folke, if they would imprint shame and grace in their yoong children, ought themselves first to shew shamefast behavior among them; even so, the modest and bashfull libertie of speech which one friend useth, doth strike also a great shame in another. Also to come and approch by little and little unto one that offendeth, and after a doubting maner with a kind of feare to touch him, is the next way to undermine the vice that he is prone and given unto, and the same, whiles he can not choose but be modestly disposed, who is so modestly and gently entreated. And therefore it would be alwaies verie good in those reprehensions to observe what he did, who in like case reprooving a friend, 10

But lesse seemly and convenient it is for to discover the fault of the husband before his wife; of a father in the presence of his sonnes; of a lover before his love; or of a schoolmaster in the hea­ring of his scholars: that were enough to put them beside their right wits, for anger and griefe when they shall see themselves checked and discredited before those of whom they desire to be best esteemed. And verily of this mind I am, hat it was not the wine so much that set king Alex­ander in such a chafe & rage against Clitus whē he reproved him, as for that he did it in the pre­sence and hearing of so many. Aristomenes also, the master and tutor of king Ptolomaeus, for that in the sight of an embassador he awaked him out of a sleepe, & willed him to give eare unto the 20 embassage that was delivered, ministred unto his evil-willers and the flatterers about the court great vantage, who thereupon tooke occasion to seeme discontented in the kings behalfe, and thus to say: What if after so many travels that your Majestie doth undergo, and your long wat­ching for out sakes, some sleep do overtake you otherwhiles; our part it were to tell you of it pri­vatly, & not thus rudely to lay hand as it were upō your person in the presence of so many men. Whereupon Ptolomaeus being mooved at these suggestions, sent unto the man a cup of poison, with cōmandement that he should drinke it off. Aristophanes also, casteth this in Cleon his teeth,

and thereby provoke the Athenians & bring their high displeasure upon him. And therfore this 30 regard would be had especially above all others, that when we would use our libertie of speech, we do it not by way of ostentation in a vaine glorie to be popular, and to get applause, but one­ly with an intention to profit and do good, yea and to cure some infirmitie thereby. Over and besides that which Thucydides reporteth of the Corinthians, how they gave out of themselves and not unfitly, that it belonged unto them, and meet men they were to reproove others; the same ought they to have in them that will take upon them to be correctours of other persons. For like as Lysander answered to a certeine Megarian who put himselfe forward in an assemblie of associates and allies to speake frankely for the libertie of Greece: These words of yours (my friend) would beseeme to have beene spoken by some puissant State or citie; even so it may be said to every one that will seeme freely to reprehend another, that he had need himselfe to be in 40 maners wel reformed. And this most truly ought to be inferred upon all those that wil seeme to chastice and correct others, namely, to be wiser and of better government than the rest: for thus Plato protested that he reformed Speusippus by example of his owne life: and Xenocrates likewise casting but his eie upon Polemon, who was come into his schoole like a Ruffian, by his very looke onely reclaimed him from his loose life: whereas on the contrary side, if a light and lewd person, one that is full of bad conditions himselfe, would seeme to finde fault with others and be busie with his tongue, he must be sure alwaies to heare this on both sides of his eares,

Howbeit, forasmuch as oftentimes the case standeth so, that by occasion of some affaires we be 50 driven to chastice those with whom we converse, when we our selves are culpable and no better than they: the most cleanly & least offensive way to do it, is this, To acknowledge in some sort that we be likewise faulty and to include and comprehend our owne persons together with them: after which maner is that reproose in Homer,

Also in another place:

Thus Socrates mildly and gently would seeme to reproove yoong men, making semblance as if himselfe were not void of ignorance, but had need also to be instructed in vertue, and pro­fessing that he had need with them to search for the knowledge of trueth: for such commonly do win love and credit, yea and sooner shall be beleeved, who are thought subject to the same faults, and seeme willing to correct their friends like as they do their owne selves; whereas he who spreadeth and displaieth his owne wings, in clapping other mens, justifying himselfe as if 10 he were pure, sincere, faultlesse, and without all affections and infirmities, unlesse he be much elder than we, or in regard of some notable and aprooved vertue in farre higher place of au­thoritie and in greater reputation than our selves, he shall gaine no profit nor do any good, but be reputed a busie body and troublesome person. And therefore it was not without just cause that good Phoenix in speaking to Achilles alledged his owne misfortunes, and namely how in a fit of choler he had like one day to have killed his owne father, but that sodeinly he bethought himselfe and changed his minde,

which he did no doubt to this end, because he would not seeme in childing him to arrogate this 20 praise unto himselfe, that he was not subject to anger, nor had ever done amisse by occasion of that infirmitie and passion. Certes such admonitions as these enter and pierce more effectually into the heart, for that they are thought to proceed from a tender compassion; and more wil­ling are we to yeeld unto such as seeme to have suffred the like, than to those that despise and contemne us. But forasmuch as neither the eie when it is inflamed can abide any cleere and shining light, nor a passionate minde endure franke speech, or a plaine and bare reprehension, one of the best and most profitable helps in this case, is to intermingle there with a little praise, as wereade thus in Homer,

Likewise,

And verily such oblique reprehensions also as these, are most effectuall and woonderfull in re­claming those that be ready to run on end, and fall to some grosse enormities: as for example,

Also,

For this kinde of dealing doth not onely asswage and mitigate the roughnesse and comman­ding power that is in a reprehension and rebuke, but also breedeth in the partie in such sort re­prooved, 50 a certeine emulation of himselfe, causing him to be abashed and ashamed for any follies and dishonest pranks, when he remembreth and calleth to minde his other good parts and commendable acts, which by this meanes he setteth before his eies, as examples, and so ta­keth himselfe for a paterne and president of better things: But when we make comparison be­tweene him and others, to wit, his equals in age, his fellow-citizens, or kinsefolks; then his vice, which in the owne nature is stubburne and opinionative enough, becommeth by that meanes more froward and exasperate, and often times he will not sticke in a sume and chase to fling [Page 114] away, and grumble in this wise, Why goe you not then to those that are so much better than I? why can you not let me alone, but thus trouble me as you do? And therefore we must take heed especially, that whiles we purpose to tel one plainly of his faults, we do not praise others, unlesse haply they be his parents: as Agamemnon did unto Diomedes,

And ulysses in the Tragedie entituled Scyrij,

But most unseemely it were and undecent of all other, if when one is admonished by his friend, he should fall to admonish him againe; and being tolde freely of his fault, serve him the like, and quit him with as much: for this is the next way to kindle coales, and to make variance and discord; and in one word verily, such a rejecting & spurning againe as this, may seeme in effect to bewaray, not a reciprocall libertie of rendring one for another, but rather a peevish minde that 20 can abide no maner of reproofe. Better therefore it is, to endure patiently for the time, a friend that telleth us plainly of our faults; and if himselfe afterwards chance to offend and have need of the like reprehension, this after a sort giveth free libertie unto him that was rebuked afore, to use the same libertie of speech againe unto the other: For calling to minde by this occasion, without any remembrance of old grudge and former injurie, that himselfe also was woont not to neglect his friends when they did amisse and forgat themselves, but tooke paines to reproove, redresse, and teach them how to amend, he will the sooner yeeld a fault, and receive that cha­stisement and correction, which he shall perceive to be a retribution of like love and kindnesse, and not a requitall of complaint and anger. Moreover, like as Thucidides saith, That the man is wise and well advised, who incurreth the envie of men for matters of greatest weight and impor­tance; 30 even so we say: That if a friend will adventure the danger and heavy load and ill will for blaming his friends, hee must make choise of such matters as be of great moment and much consequence: for if he will take exceptions at every trifle and little thing indifferent; if he will seeme evermore to be finding fault, and cary himselfe not like a kind and affectionate friend, but a precise, severe and imperious schoole-master, to spie all faults, and correct every point and tit­tle; certes he shall finde afterwards, that his admonitions even for the greatest offences, shall not be regarded, nor any whit effectuall: for that he hath used already to no purpose, his franke reprehension (the soveraigne remedie for grosse and maine faults) in many others that are but slight, and not woorthy reproofe: much like unto a Physician, who hath emploied and spenta a medicine that is strong and bitter, howbeit, necessary and costly, in small infirmities, and of no 40 reckoning to speake of. A friend therefore is to looke unto this; That it be not an ordinary matter with him to be alwaies quarrelsome, and desirous to finde one fault or other. And if per­adventure he meet with such a companion as is apt to search narrowly into all light matters, to cavill and wrangle for every thing, and ready to raise calumniations like a petty Sycophant for toies and trifles, he may take the better advantage and occasion thereby for to reproove him a­gaine, in case he chance to faile in greater and more grosse faults.

Philotimus the Physician answered pretily unto one, who having an impostume growen to suppuration about his liver, shewed unto him a finger that was fore, and troubled with some bli­ster or whitflaw, and desired his counsell for the same: My good friend (quoth he) the disease that you are to looke unto, is not a whitflaw nor about your naile roote; even so, there may be 50 occasion and opportunitie offered unto a friend, to say unto one that ever and anon is finding fault, and reprooving small errors not woorth the noting, to wit, sports and pastimes, feasting and merrie meeting, or such like trifling trickes of youth: Good sir, let us finde the meanes ra­ther, that this man whom you thus blame, may cast off the harlot that he keeps, or give over his dice playing; for otherwise, he is a man of excellent and woonderfull good parts. For he that perceiveth how he is tolerated or winked at, yea and pardoned in small matters, will not be un­willing, that a friend should use his libertie in reprooving his greater vices: whereas he that is [Page 115] evermore urgent upon one, pressing and lying hard unto him; alwaies bitter and unpleasant, prying and looking into everie corner, and taking knowledge of all things: such an one (I say) there is neither childe nor brother will endure; nay, he is intolerable to his verie servants: But like as Euripides saith,

No more is the folly of friends so bad but that we may picke some goodnes out of them: we ought therefore to observe diligently, not onely when they do amisse, but also when they doe well: and verily at the first to be willing and most readie to praise: but afterwards we must doe as the Smithes who temper yron: For when they have given it a fire, and made it by that meanes 10 soft, loose and pliable, they drench and dip it in cold water, whereby it becommeth compact and hard, taking thereby the due temperature of stiffe steele; even so, when we perceive that our friends be well heat and relaxed (as it were) by hearing themselves praised by us, then we may come upon them by little and little with a tincture (as I may so say) of reproofe, and telling them of their faults. Then will it be a fit time to speake unto a friend thus: How say you, are these pranks woorthie to be compared with those parts? See you not the fruits that come of vertue? Loe what we your friends require of you: these are the duties and offices which are beseeming your person: for these hath nature made and framed you. As for those lewd causes, fie upon them,

For like as an honest minded and discreet Physitian, will choose rather to cure the maladie of his patient by rest and sleepe, or by good nutriture & diet, than by Castorium or Scammonium: even so, a kinde & courteous friend, a good father and gentle schoolemaster, taketh pleasure and joy­eth more to use praises than reproofes, in the reformation of manners. For there is nothing that maketh the man, who boldly findeth fault with his friends to bee so little offensive unto them, or to do more good and cure them better, than to be voide of anger, and to seeme after a milde sort in all love and affectionate good will to addresse himselfe unto them, when they doe 30 amisse. And therefore neither ought he to urge them overmuch, and seeme too eagerly to convince them if they denie the thing, ne yet to debarre them of libertie to make their answere and cleere themselves: but rather to helpe them out, and after a sort to minister unto them some honest and colourable pretenses, to excuse and justifie their facts: and when a man seeth them do amisse by reason of some woorse cause indeed, to lay the fault upon another occasion that is more tolerable: As Hector when he said unto Paris,

As if his brothers retire out of battell and refusall to combat with Menclaus, had not beene a meere flight and running away, but verie anger and a curst slomake. Likewise Nestor unto Aga­memnon, 40

For in mine advice a more milde reprehension is this than to have said: This was injuriously done of you, or this was a shamefull and vilanous part of yours; As also to say unto one, You could not tel what you did; you thought not of it; or you were altogether ignorant what would come thereof, is better and more civill, than bluntly to charge him and say: This was a meere wrong, and a wicked act of yours. Also thus, Do not contest and quarrell in this wise with your brother, is lesse offensive than to say: Deale not thus enviously and spitefully against your bro­ther: Likewise it were a more gentle manner of reproofe to say unto a man: Avoid this woman 50 that spoileth and abuseth you; than thus: Give over this woman, spoile and abuse her no more. Thus you see what meanes are to be used in this libertie of speech, when a friend would cure a maladie.

But for to prevent the same, there would be practised a cleane contrarie course: for when it behooveth to avert and turne our friends from cominitting a fault, whereto they are prone and enclined; or to withstand some violent and disordinat passion, which carrieth them a cleane contrarie way; or when we are desirous to incite and stirre them forward unto good things, be­ing [Page 116] of themselves slow and backward: when, I say, we would give an edge unto them, who are otherwise dull, and heat them being could, we ought to transferre the thing or act in hand to some absurd causes, and those that be unseemely and undecent. Thus Ulysses pricked on Achil­les in a certaine Tragedie of Sophocles, when he said thus unto him: It is not for a supper Achilles that you are so angrie, but

And when upon these words Achilles tooke greater indignation, and chafed more and more, saying, that he would not saile forward but be gone backe againe, he came upon him a second time with this rejoynder: 10

By this meanes when we scar a valiant and hardy man with the opinion of cowardise; an honest, chaste and civill person, with the note of being reputed loose & incontinent; also a liberall and sumptuous Magnifico, with the feare to be accounted a niggard or a mechanicall micher; we do mightily incite them to wel doing, and chase them from bad waies. And like as when a thing is done and past, and where there is no remedie, there should be borne a modest and temperate hand, in such sort that in our libertie of speech we seeme to shew more commiseration, pittie 20 and fellow-griefe of minde for the fault of a friend, than eager reprehension; so contrariwise where it stands upon this point that should not fault, where (I say) our drift is to fight against the motion of his passions, there we ought to be vehement, inexorable and never to give over nor yeeld one jot unto them. And this is the very time when we are to shew that love of ours and good will which is constant, setled, and sure, and to use our true libertie of speech to the full. For to reproove faults already committed, we see it is an ordinary thing among arrant eni­mies. To which purpose said Diogenes very well; That a man who would be an honest man ought to have either very good friends, or most shrewd and bitter enimies: for as they do teach and instruct; so these are ready to finde fault and reproove. Now far better it is for one to ab­staine from evill doing, in beleeving and following the sound counsell of his friends, than to 30 repent afterwards of ill doing, when he seeth himselfe blamed and accused by his enimies. And therefore if it were for nothing els but this, great discretion and circumspection would be used in making remonstrances & speaking freely unto friends: and so much the rather, by how much it is the greater and stronger remedie that friendship can use, and hath more need to be used in time and place convenient, and more wisely to be tempered with a meane and mediocrity. Now forasmuch as I have said sundry times already, that all reprehensions whatsoever are do­lorous unto him that receiveth them; we ought in this case to imitate good Physicians and Chirurgians: for when they have made incision or cut any member, they leave not the place in paine and toment still, but use certeine fomentations and lenitive infusions to mitigate the anguish: No more do they that after a civill maner have chid or rebuked, run away presently so 40 soone as they have bitten and pricked the partie, but by changing their maner of speech, enter­taine their friends thus galled and wounded, with other more mild and pleasant discourses; to aswage their griefe and refresh their hart againe that is cast downe and discomforted: and I may well compare them to these cutters and carvers of images, who after they have rought hewen and scabbled over certeine peeces of stone for to make their statures of, do polish and smooth them faire, yea and give them a lightsome lustre. But if a man be stung and nipped once, or touched to the quicke by some objurgatorie reprehension, and so left rough, uneven, disquieted, swel­ling and pussing for anger, he is ever after hardly quieted or reclaimed, and no consolation will serve the turne to appease and comfort him againe. And therefore they who reproove & admonish their friends, ought to observe this rule above all others; Not 50 to forsake them immediately when they have so done, nor to breake off their conference sodainly, or to con­clude their speech with any word that might greeve and pro­voke them.

OF MEEKENES, OR HOW A man should refraine choler. A TREATISE IN MANNER of a Dialogue.

IT seemeth unto me (ô Fundanus) that painters doe verie well and 10 wisely, to view and consider their workes often and by times be­tweene, before they thinke them finished and let them go out of their hands: for that by setting them so out of their sight, and then afterwards having recourse thither againe to judge thereof, they make their eies (as it were) new judges, to spie and discerne the least fault that is, which continuall looking thereupon, and the ordinarie view of one and the same thing doth cover and hide from them. But forasmuch as it is not possible that a man should depart from himselfe for a time, and after a certaine space returne againe; not 20 that he should breake, interrupt and discontinue his understanding and sense within (which is the cause that each man is a worse judge of himselfe than of others.) A second meanes and re­medie therefore in this case would be used: namely, to review his friends sundrie times, and eft­soones likewise to yeeld himselfe to be seene and beheld by them; not so much to know thereby whether he aged apace and grow soone old; or whether the constitution of his bodie be better or worse than it was before, as to survey and consider his manners and behaviour, to wit, whether time hath added any good thing, or taken away ought that is bad and naught. For mine owne part, this being now the second yeere since I came first to this citie of Rome, and the fifth month of mine acquaintance with you, I thinke it no great woonder, that considering your towardnes and the dexteritie of your nature, those good parts which were alreadie in you, have gotten so 30 great an addition and be so much increased, as they are: but when I see how that vehement in­clination, and ardent motion of yours to anger, whereunto by nature you were given, is by the guidance of reason become so milde, so gentle and tractable, it commeth into my minde to say thereunto, that which I read in Homer,

And verily this gentlenes and meekenes of yours is not turned into a certaine sloth, and gene­rall dissolution of your vigour: but like as a peece of ground well tilled, lieth light and even, and besides more hollow than before, which maketh much for the fertilitie thereof; even so, your nature hath gotten in stead of that violent disposition and sudden propension un­to 40 choler, a certaine equalitie and profunditie, serving greatly to the management of af­faires, whereby also it appeereth plainely that it is not long of the decaying strength of the bodie, by reason of declining age; neither yet of the owne accord, that your hastinesse and cho­lericke passion is thus faded, but rather by meanes of good reasons and instructions well cured. And yet verily (for unto you I will be bold to say the truth) at the first I suspected and could not well beleeve Eros our familiar friend, when he made this report of you unto me; as doubting that he was readie to give this testimonie of you in regard of affection and good will, bearing me in hand of those things which were not indeed in you, but ought to be in good and honest men: and yet (as you know well ynough) he is not such a man, as for favour of any person, and for to please, can be easily perswaded and brought to say otherwise than he thinketh. But now as 50 he is freed and acquit from the crime of bearing false witnesse: so you (since this journey and travell upon the way affoordeth you good leasure) will (I doubt not) at my request, declare and recount unto us the order how you did this cure upon your selfe; and namely what medicines and remedies you used, to make that cholericke nature of yours, so gentle, so tractable, so soft and supple, so obeisant (I say) and subject wholy to the rule of reason?

But why do you not your selfe (ô Sylla) my deerest and most affectionate friend, take heed, [Page 119] that for the amitie and good will which you beare unto me, you be not deceived and see one thing in me for another? As for Eros, who for his owne part hath not alwaies his anger stedfast­ly staied with the cable and anchor of Homers Peisa (that is, obedient and abiding firme in one place) but otherwhiles much mooved and out of quiet, for the hatred that he hath of vice and vicious men it may verie wel be, and like it is that unto him I seeme more milde and gentle than before: like as we see in changing and altering the notes of prick-song, or the Gam-ut in mu­sicke, certaine Netae or notes which are the base in one 8. being compared which other Netae morelow and base, become Hypatae, that is, the Trebles.

It is neither so nor so (ô Fundanus) but of all loves, do as I desire you, for my sake. 10

Since it is so ( Sylla) among many good advertisements of Musonius which come to my minde, this is one; That whosoever would live safe and in health, ought all their life time to looke to themselves, and be as it were in continuall Physicke. For I am not of this minde, nei­ther doe I thinke it convenient that like as Elleborus, after it hath done the deed within a sicke mans bodie and wrought a cure, is cast up againe together with the maladie; so reason also should be sent out after the passion which it hath cured, but it ought to remaine still in the mind for to keepe and preserve the judgement. For why? reason is not to be compared with medi­cines and purgative drugs, but rather to holesome and nourishing meates, engendring mild­ly in the minds of them unto whom it is made familiar, a good complexion and fast habit to­gether 20 with some perfect health: whereas admonitions and corrections applied or ministred unto passions when they swell and rage, and bee in the height of their heat and inflamma­tion, hardly and with much adoe worke any effect at all, and if they doe, it is with much paine. Neither differ they in operation from those strong odors which well may raise out of a fit those who are fallen and be subject to the Epilepsy or falling sicknes; but they cure not the disease, nor secure the patient for falling againe: True it is that all other passions of the minde, if they be ta­ken in hand at the very point and instant when they are in their highest furie, do yeeld in some sort, and they admit reason comming from without into the minde for to helpe and succour, but anger not onely, as Melanthius saith,

but also turneth her cleane out of house & home, shutteth and locketh her out of doores for al­together; nay it fareth for all the world like to those who set the house on fire over their owne heads, and turne themselves and it together: it filleth all within full of trouble, smoke, and con­fused noises, in such sort that it hath neither eie to see, nor eare to listen unto those that would, & might assist and give aide: and therefore sooner will a ship abandoned of her master in the mids of the sea, and there hulling dangerously in a storme and tempest receive a pilot from some other ship without; than a man tossed with the waves of furie and anger, admit the reason and remonstrance of a stranger; unlesse his owne reason at home were before hand well prepared: But like as they who looke for no other but to have their citie besieged, gather together and lay 40 up safe their owne store and provision, and all things that might serve their turne, not knowing nor expecting any aide or reliefe abroad during the siege; even so ought we to have our reme­dies ready and provided long before, and the same gathered out of all parts of Philosophie and conveied into the minde for to withstand the rage of choler: as being assured of this, that when neede and necessitie requireth to use them, wee shall not easily admit the same, and suffer them to have entrance into us. For surely at such a time of extremitie, the soule heareth not a word that is said unto it without, for the trouble and confusion within, unlesse her owne rea­son be assistant ready both to receive and understand quickly every commandement and pre­cept, and also to prompt the same accordingly unto her. And say that she doth heare: looke what is said unto her after a milde, calme, and gentle maner, that she despiseth; againe, if any be 50 more instant, and do urge her somewhat roughly, with those she is displeased, and the woorse for their admonitions for wrath being of the owne nature proud, audacious, unruly, and hard­ly suffering it selfe to be handled or stirred by another, much like unto a tyrant attended with a strong guard about his person, ought to have something of the owne which is domesticall, fa­miliar, and (as it were) in bred together with it, for to overthrow and dissolve the same. Nowe the continuall custome of anger and the ordinary or often falling into a chafe, breedeth in the minde an ill habit called wrathfulnesse, which in the end groweth to this passe, that it maketh a [Page 120] man cholericke and hasty, apt to be mooved at every thing; and besides, it engendreth a bitter humor of revenge, and a testinesse implacable, or hardly to be appeased; namely, when the mind is exulcerate once, taking offence at every small occasion, quarreling and complaining for toies and trifles, much like unto a thin or a fine edge that entreth with the least force that the graver putteth it to. But the judgement of reason opposing it selfe streightwaies against such motions and sits of choler, and readie to suppresse & keepe them downe, is not onely a remedit for the present mischiefe, but also for the time to come doeth strengthen and fortifie the mind, causing it to be more firme and strong to resist such passions when they arise. And now to give some instance of my selfe: The same hapned unto me after I had twice or thrice made head a­gainst choler, as befell sometimes to the Thebanes; who having ones repelled and put to flight 10 the Lacedaemonians (warriors thought in those daies invincible) were never in any one battell afterward defeated by them. For from that time forward I tooke heart and courage, as seeing full well, that conquered it might be with the discourse of reason. I perceived moreover, that anger would not onely be quenched with cold water powred and cast upon it, as Aristotle hath repor­ted unto us, but also that it would go out and be extinguished, were it never so light a fire before, by presenting neere unto it some object of feare: nay (I assure you) by a sudden joy comming upon it unlooked for, in many a man, according as Homer saith, choler hath melted, dissolved & evaporated away. And therefore this resolution I made, that anger was a passion not incurable, if men were willing to be cured: for surely the occasions and beginnings thereof are not alwaies great and forcible; but we see that a jest, a scoffe, some sport, some laughter, a winke of the eie, 20 or nod of the head, and such small matters, hath set many in a pelting chafe: even as Lady He­lena saying no more but thus unto her niece or brothers daughter at their first meeting,

drave her in such a fit of choler, that therewith she was provoked to breake off her speech with this answer,

Likewise Calisthenes mightily offended Alexander with one word, who when a great bole 30 of wine went round about the table, refused it as it came to his turne, saying: I will not (I trow) drinke so to your health Alexander, that I shall have need thereby of Aesculapius (i. a Physi­cian.) A fire that newly hath caught a flame with hares or conies haire, drie leaves, hurds and light straw, stubble and rakings, it is an easie matter to put out and quench; but if it have once taken to sound fewell and such matter as hath solidity, substance and thicknesse in it, soone it burneth and consumeth as Aeschylus saith:

Semblably, he that will take heed unto choler at the beginning, when he seeth it once to smoke or flame out by occasion of some merry speech, flouting scoffes, and foolish words of no mo­ment, 40 needs not to strive much about the quenching of it: for many times if he do no more but hold his peace, or make small account or none at all of such matters, it is enough to ex­tingnish and make it go out. For he that ministreth not fewell to fire, putteth it out; and who­soever feedeth not his anger at the first, and bloweth not the coales himselfe, doth coole and re­presse the same. And therefore Hieronimus the Philosopher, although otherwise he have taught us many good lessons and instructions; yet in this point he hath not pleased and satisfied me, when he saith; That a man is not able to perceive in himselfe the breeding of anger, (so quicke and sudden it is) but onely when it is bred, then it may be felt: for surely, there is no vice or passion in us, that giveth such warning, or hath either so evident a generation or so manifest an augment whiles it is stirred and mooved, as anger, according as Homer himselfe right skilfully, 50 and as a man of good experience, giveth us to understand, who bringeth in Achilles sore moo­ved to sorrow and griefe of heart, even with a word, and at the very instant, when he heard the speeches of Agamemnon: for thus reporteth the Poet of him:

[Page 121] But of [...] himselfe, he saith, that it was long ere he was angrie; namely, after he had beene kindled with many hard speeches, that were dealt to and fro, which if any third person stepping betweene, would have staied or turned away, certes their quarrell and debate had not growen to such tearmes of extremity as it did. And therefore Socrates so often as he felt him­selfe somewhat declining and more mooved than he should, against any one of his friends, and avoiding as it were a rocke in the sea, before the tempest came and the billowes arose, would let fall his voice, shew a smiling countenance, and compose his looke and visage to mirth and leni­tie, and thus by bending and drawing another away to that whereunto his affection enclined, and opposing himselfe to a contrary passion, he kept upright on his feet, so that he fell not, nor was overthrowen. For there is (my good friend) a ready neanes in the very beginning, to 10 breake the force of choler, like as there is a way to dissolve a tyrannicall rule and dominion, that is to say, not to obey at the first, not to give eare and be ruled by her commandement, when she shal bid thee to speake & cry out aloud, or to looke with a terrible countenance, or to knocke or beat thy selfe; but to be still and quiet, and not to re-enforce and encrease the passion, as men do exasperate a sicknesse with strugling, striving, tossing and roaring out aloud. For those things which ordinary lovers and amourous yoong men practise, that is to say, to go in a wanton and merry maske, to sing and daunce at the doores of their sweet hearts and mistresses, to bedecke their windowes with coronets & floure-garlands, bring some ease and alleviation (such as it is) of their passions, and the same not altogether undecent and uncivill, according to that which we reade in the Poet: 20

Also that which we permit those to doe who are in sorrow, namely, to mourne, to lament and weepe for losses or mishaps; certeinly with their sighs which they setch, & teares that they shed, they do send out and discharge a good part of their griefe and anguish. But it is not so with the passion of anger: for surely, the more that they stirre and speake who are surprised there with the more hote it is, and the flame burneth out the rather; and therefore the best way is, for a man to be quiet, to flie and keepe him out of the way, or els to retire himselfe into some haven of surety 30 and repose, when he perceiveth that there is a fit of anger toward, as if he felt an accesse of the falling evill comming. This (I say) we ought to do, for feare lest we fall downe, or rather runne and rush upon some one or other. But who be they that we run upon? Surely our very friends, for the greatest part, & those we wrong most. As for our affection of love, it standeth not to all things indifferently, neither do we hate ne yet feare we every thing alike: But what is it that ire setteth not upon? nothing is there but it doth assaile and lay hands on; we are angry with our e­nemies; we chafe with our friends; with children, with parents are we wrath; nay, the very gods themselves we forbeare not in our cholericke mood; we flie upon dumbe and brute beasts; we spare not so much as our utensile vessels and implements which have neither sense nor life at all, if they stand in our way, we fare like Thamyris the Musician, 40

Thus did Pandarus also, who cursed, and betooke himselfe to all the fiends in hell, if he did not burst his bowe and arrowes with his owne hands, and throw them into the fire when he had so done. As for Xerxes, he stucke not to whip, to lash and scourge the sea, and to the mountaine Athos he sent his minatorie letters in this forme; Thou wretched and wicked Athos, that bearest up thy head aloft into the skie; see thou bring foorth no great craggie stones, I advise thee, for my works, and such as be hard to be cut and wrought: otherwise, if thou doe, I shall cut thee through and 50 tumble thee into the maine sea. Many fearefull and terrible things there be that are done in an­ger, and as many for them againe, as foolish and ridiculous, and therefore of all passions that trouble the minde, it is both hated and despised most. In which regards expedient it were, to consider diligently aswell of the one as the other: for mine owne part, whether I did well or ill, I know not; but surely, when I began my cure of choler in my selfe, I did as in olde time the La­cedaemonians were woont to do by their Ilotes, men of base and servile condition: For as they taught their children what a soule vice drunkennesse was, by their example when they were [Page 122] drunke, so I learned by observing others, what anger was, and what beastly effects it wrought. First and formost therefore, like as that maladie according to Hippocrates, is of all others, woorst and most dangerous, wherein the visage of the sicke person is most disfigured and made unlikest it selfe; so, I seeing those that were possessed of choler, and (as it were) beside themselves there­by, how their face was changed, their colour, their countenance, their gate and their voice quite altered, I imagined thereupon unto my selfe a cerreine forme and image of this maladie, as be­ing mightily displeased in my minde, if haply at any time I shoule be seene of my friends, my wife and the little girles my daughters, so terrible and so farre mooved and transported beside my selfe: not onely fearefull and hideous to beholde, and farre otherwise than I was woont, but also unpleasant to be heard; my voice being rough, rude and churlish: like as it was my hap to 10 see some of my familiar friends in that case, who by reason of anger could not reteine and keepe their ordinary fashions and behavior, their force of visage, nor their grace in speech, ne yet that affability and pleasantnesse in company and talke as they were woont.

This was the reason that Caius Gracchus the Oratour, a man by nature blunt, rude in behavi­our, and withall over-earnest and violent in his maner of pleading, had a little flute or pipe made for the nonce, such as Musicians are woont to guide and rule the voice gently by little and little up and downe, betweene base to treble, according to everie note as they would themselves, teaching their scholars thereby to have a tunable voice. Now when Gracchus pleaded at the barre at any time, he had one of his servants standing with such a pipe behinde him: who obser­ving when his master was a little out of tune, would sound a more mild and pleasant note unto 20 him, whereby he reclaimed and called him backe from that loude exclaiming, and so taking downe that rough and swelling accent of his voice,

dulced and allaied the cholericke passion of the orator. Certes my selfe, if I had a pretie page to attend upon me, who were diligent, necessarie and handsome about me, would not be offended 30 but verie well content, that when he saw me angrie he should by and by present a mirror or loo­king glasse unto me, such a one as they use to bring and shew unto some that newly are come out of the baine, although no good or profit at all they have thereby. But certainely for man to see himselfe at such a time, how disquieted he is, how farre out of the way and beside the course of nature, it were no small meanes to checke this passion, and to set him in hatred therewith for ever after. They who are delighted in tales and fables, doe report by way of merrie speech and pastime, that once when Minerva was a piping, there came a Satyre and admonished her, that it was not for her to play upon a flute; but she for the time tooke no heed to that advertisement of his, notwithstanding he spake thus unto her:

But afterwards when she had seene her face in a certaine river, what a paire of cheekes she had gotten with her piping, she was displeased with her selfe and flung away her pipes: And yet this art and skill of playing well upon the pipe, yeeldeth some comfort and maketh amends for the deformitie of disfigured visage, with the melodious tune and harmonie that it affoordeth; yea and afterwards, Marsyas the Minstrell (as it is thought) devised first with a certaine hood and muzzle fastened round about the mouth, as well to restraine and keepe downe the violence of the blast enclosed thus by force, as also to correct and hide the deformitie and undecent inequa­litie 50 of the visage;

But anger contrariwise, as it doth puffe up and stretch out the visage after an unseemely maner, so much more it sendeth out undecent and unpleasant voice,

The sea verily, when being troubled and disquieted with blustring winds, it casteth up mosse, reits, and such like weeds (they say) it is cleansed andpurged thereby: but the dissolute, bitter, scurrile, and foolish speeches, which anger sendeth out of the minde when it is turned upside downe, first pollute and defile the speakers themselves, and fill them full of infamy, for that they be thought to have their hearts full of such ordure and filthinesse at all times; but the same lur­keth there, untill that choler discovereth it: And therefore, they pay most deerely for their speech, the lightest matter of all others (as Plato saith) in that they suffer this heavie and grie­vous punishment, to be held and reputed for malicious enemies, cursed speakers, and ill condi­tioned 10 persons. Which I seeing and observing well enough, it falleth out that I reason with my selfe, & alwaies call to mind, what a good thing it is in a feaver, but much better in a fit of choler to have a tongue faire, even and smooth: For in them that be sicke of an ague, if the tongue be not such as naturally it ought to be, an ill signe it is, but not a cause of any harme or indisposi­tion within. Howbeit, if their tongues who are angry, be once rough, foule, and running disso­lutely at random to absurd speeches, it casteth foorth outragious and contumelious language, the verie mother and work-mistresse of irreconciliable enmitie, and bewraieth an hidden and secret maliciousnes. As for wine, if a man drinke it, of it selfe undelaied with water, it putteth foorth no such wantonnesse, no disordinate and lewd speeches, like to those that proceed of ire. For drunken talke serveth to make mirth, and to procure laughter rather than any thing else: 20 but words of choler are tempered with bitter gall and rankor. Moreover, he that sitteth silent at the table when others drinke merrily, is odious unto the companie and a trouble: whereas in choler there is nothing more decent and beseeming gravitie, than to be quiet and say nothing: according as Sappho doth admonish,

The consideration of these things collected thus together, serveth not onely to take heede alwaies unto them that are subject to yre and therewith possessed, but also besides to know 30 throughly the nature of anger: how it is neither generous or manfull, nor yet hath anie thing in it that savoreth of wisedome and magnanimitie. Howbeit the common people inter­pret the turbulent nature thereof to be active and meet for action: the threats and menaces thereof, hardinesse and confidence, the peevish and froward unrulinesse to be fortitude and strength. Nay some there be who would have the crueltie in it, to be a disposition and dexteri­tie to atchieve great matters; the implacable malice thereof to be constancie and firme resolu­tion: the morositie and difficultie to be pleased; to be the hatred of sinne and vice; howbeit herein they do not well but are much deceived, for surely the very actions, motions, gestures, and countenance of cholerike persons do argue and bewray much basenesse and imbecilitie: which we may perceive not onely in these brain-sicke fits that they fall upon little children, and 40 them pluck,twitch, and misuse; flie upon poore seely women, and thinke that they ought to punish and beat their horses, hounds and mules, like unto Ctesiphon that famous wrestler and professed champion, who stucke not to spurne and kicke his mule; but also in their tyrannicall and bloudly murders, wherein their crueltie and bitternesse which declareth their pusillanimity & base mind; their actions which shew their passions & their doing to others, bewraying a suffe­ring in themselves, may be compared to the stings and bitings of those venemous serpents which be very angric, exceeding dolorous and burne most themselves when they do inflict the greatest inflamation upon the patients, and put them to most paine: For like as swelling is a symptome or accident following upon a great wound or hurt in the flesh: even so it is in the tenderest and softest minds, the more they give place and yeeld unto dolor and passion, the 50 more plentie of choler and anger they utter foorth as proceeding from the greater weaknes. By this you may see the reason why women ordinarily be more waspish, curst and shrewd than men; sicke folke more testie than those that are in health; old people more waiward and fro­ward than those that be in the floure and vigor of their yeeres; and finally such as be in adversi­tie and upon whom fortune frowneth, more prone to anger than those who prosper and have the world smiling upon them. The covetous mizer and pinching peni-father is alwaies most angrie with his steward that laieth foorth his monie; the glutton is ever more displeased with [Page 124] his cooke and cater; the jealous husband quickly falleth out and brawleth with his wife; the vaine-glorious foole is soonest offended with them that speake any thing amisse of him; but the most bitter and intollerable of all others, are ambitious persons in a citie, who lay for high places and dignities, such also as are the heads of a faction in a sedition; which is a trouble and mischiefe (as Pindarus saith) conspicuous and honorable. Loe, how from that part of the mind which is wounded, greeved, suffreth most and especially upon infirmitie and weakenesse, ari­seth anger, which passion resembleth not (as one would have it) the sinewes of the soule, but is like rather to their stretching spreines and spasmatick convulsions, when it streineth and stri­veth overmuch in following revenge.

Well, the examples of evill things yeeld no pleasant sight at all, onely they be necessary and 10 profitable, and for mine owne part supposing the precedents given by those who have caried themselves gently and mildly in their occasions of anger, are most delectable, not onely to be­hold, but also heare: I begin to contemne and despise those that say thus:

Likewise

and other such words which serve to provoke wrath and whet choler; by which some go about to remoove anger out of the nurcery, and womens chamber into the hall where men do sit and 20 keepe; but heerein they do not well: For prowesse and fortitude according in all other things with justice, and going fellow-like with her, me thinkes is at strife and debate with her about meekenesse and mildnesse onely, as if she rather became her, and by right apperteined unto her: For otherwhiles it hath beene knowne that the woorst men have gone beyond and sur­mounted the better. But for a man to erect a Trophee and set up a triumphall monument in his owne soule against ire (with which as Heraclnus saith the conflict is hard and dangerous: for what a man would have he buieth with his life) it is an act of rare valour and victorious pu­issance, as having in trueth the judgement of reason, for sinewes, tendons, and muskles to en­counter and resist passions. Which is the cause that I studie, and am desirous alwaies to reade and gather the sayings and doings, not onely of learned clearks and Philosophers; who as our 30 Sages and wise men say, have no gall in them, but also and much rather of Kings, Princes, Ty­rants, and Potentates: As for example, such as that was of Antigonus, who hearing his souldi­ors upon a time revile him behinde his pavilion, thinking that he heard them not, put forth his staffe from under the cloth unto them and said: A whorson knaves, could you not go a little far­ther off, when you meant thus to raile upon us. Likewise when one Arcadian an Argive or A­chaean never gave over reviling of King Philip, and abusing him in most reprochfull tearmes, yea and to give him warning

And afterwards the man was seene (I know not how) in Macedonia; the friends and courtiers 40 of king Philip were in hand with him to have him punished, and that in any wise he should not let him go and escape: Philip contrariwise having him once in his hands, spake gently unto him, used him courteously, sending unto him in his lodging gifts and presents, and so sent him away. And after a certeine time he commanded those courtiours of purpose to enquire what words he gave out of him unto the Greekes: but when everie one made report againe and testi­fied that he was become another man, and ceased not to speake woonderfull things in the praise of him; Lo (quoth Philip) then unto them: Am not I a better Physician than all you, and can I not skill how to cure a foule tongued fellow? Another time at the great solemnitie of the Olympian games, when the Greekes abused him with verie bad language, his familiar friends about him said they deserved to be sharply chastised and punished, for so miscalling and revi­ling 50 him, who had beene so good a benefactor of theirs: what would they doe and say then (quoth he) if I should deale hardly by them and doe them shrewd turnes? Semblably, notable and excellent was the carriage of Pisistratus to Thrasibulus: of king Porsenna to Mutius and of Magas to Philemon, who in a publike and frequent Theatre, had mocked and scoffed at him in this maner,

Now it chanced afterwards that by a tempest at sea he was cast upon the Port-towno Paraetoni­um, whereof Magas was governor, and so fell into his hands, who did him no other harme, but commaunded one of his guard or officers about him, onely with his naked sword to touch his bare necke, and so gently to goe his waies and do no more to him: marie afterwards, he sent un­to him little bones for cock-all, and a pretie ball to play withall, as if he had beene a child that had no wit nor discretion, and so sent him home againe in peace. King Ptolomaus upon a time gesting and scoffing at a simple and unlearned Gramarian, asked him, who was the father of Peleus: I will answere you sir (quoth he) if you tell me first who was the father of Lagus: This 10 was a drie flout and touched King Ptolomaus very neere, in regard of the meane parentage from whence he was descended: whereat, all about the King were mightily offended, and thought it was too broad a jest and frump intolerable. But Ptolomaeus, if it be not seemely for a King to take and put up a scorne: surely as little decent it is for his person to give a scorne It seemeth that heere 12 somewhat wanung. Alexander the Great was more bitter and cruell (than otherwise his ordinatie manner was to others) towards Callisthenes and Clytus. But King Porus being taken prisoner by him in a bat­tell, besought that he would use him royally, or like a King. And when King Alexander de­maunded moreover what he had more to say, and what he would have else? No more (quoth he) for under this word Royally is comprised all. And therefore I suppose it is, that the Greeks call the King of the gods, by the name of Milichiüs, that is to say, Milde and sweete as honie. 20 And the Athenians named him Mumactes, which is as much as, Readie to helpe and succour: For to punish and torment, pertaineth to divels and the furious fiends of hel: there is no celesti­all, divine, and heavenly thing in it. And like as one said of King Philip, when he had rased & de­stroyed the citie Olynthus: Yea marie, but he is not able to set up such another citie in the place: even so, a man may well say unto Anger; Thou canst overthrow, demolish, marre and pull downe: but to reare and erect againe, to save, to pardon, and to endure; be the properties of meeknesse, clemencie, mildnes, patience, and moderation: they be the parts (I say) of Camillus, Metellus, Aristides and Socrates: whereas to sticke close unto the flesh, to pinch, pricke and bite, are the qualities of pismires, flies and mice. Moreover and besides, when I looke unto Re­venge, and the manner thereof, I finde for the most part, that if men proceede by way of cho­ler, 30 they misse of their purpose: for commonly all the heat & desire of revenge is spent in biting of lips, gnashing and grating of teeth, vaine running to and fro, in railing words with foolish threats and menaces among, that favour of no wit at all: By which meanes it fareth with them afterwards, as with little children in running of a race, who for feeblenesse being not able to hold out, fall downe before they come unto the goale, whereunto they made such ridiculous and foo­lish haste. And therfore in my conceit, it was not an improper answere which a certaine Rho­dian made unto one of the Lictours and officers of a Romane Generall or Lord Proetor, who with wide mouth bauled at him, and made a glorious bragging and boasting. I passe not (quoth he) one whit what thou saist; I care rather for that which he thinketh there, that saith nothing. In like manner Sophocles when he had brought in Eurypylus and Neoptolemus all armed, speaketh 40 bravely in their commendation thus,

And verily, some barbarous nations there arewho use to poison their swords, & other weapons of iron; but valour hath no need at all of the venim of choler, for dipped it is in reason & judge­ment; whereas whatsoever is corrupted with ire and furie is brittle, rotten, and easie to be bro­ken into pieces. Which is the reason that the Lacedaemonians doe allay the choler of their souldiors, when they are fighting with the melodious sound of flutes and pipes; whose manner 50 is also before they goe to battell, to sacrifice unto the Muses, to the ende that their reason and right wits may remaine in them still, and that they may have use thereof: yea, and when they have put their enemies to flight, they never pursue after nor follow the chase, but reclaime and hold their furious anger within compasse, which they are able to weld and manage as they list; no lesse than these daggers or courtlaces which are of a meane size and reasonable length. Con­trariwise, anger hath beene the cause that many thousands have come short of the execution of vengeance, and miscarried by the way. As for example, Cyrus and Pelopidas the Thebane among [Page 126] the rest. But Agathocles endured patiently to heare himselfe reproched and reviled, by those whom hee besieged: and when one of them said: You Potter there? Heare you? Where will you have silver to pay your mercenarie souldiers and strangers their wages? Hee laughed againe and made answere; Even out of this citie when I have once forced it. Some there were also that mocked and scorned Antigonus from the verie walles, and twitted him with his defor­mitie and evill favoured face. But he said no more than thus, Why! And I tooke my selfe be­fore to have beene verie faire and well favoured. Now when he had woon the towne he sold in open port-sale those that had so flouted him, protesting withal unto them, that if from that time forward they mocked him any more, he would tell their masters of them and call them to ac­count. 10

Moreover, I doe see that hunters, yea, and oratours also commit many faults in their choler. And Aristotle doth report, that the friends of Satyrus the Oratour, in one cause that he had to plead for them, stopped his eares with waxe, for feare lest that he, when he heard his adversaries to raile upon him in their pleas, should marre all in his anger. And do not (I pray you) we our selves many times misse of punishing our servants by this meanes, when they have done some faults: for when they heare us to threaten, and give out in our anger, that we will doe thus and thus unto them, they be so frighted that they runne away farre enough off from us. Like as nur­ses therefore, are wont to say unto their little children: Crie not, and you shall have this or that; so we shall do very wel, to speake unto our choler in this wise; Make no such haste, soft and faire, keepe not such a crying, make not so loud a noise, be not so eager and urgent upon the point: 20 so shall you see every thing that you would have, sooner done and much better. And thus a fa­ther, when he seeth his childe going about to cut or cleave any thing with a knife or edge toole, taketh the toole or knife out of his hand, and doth it himselfe; even so he that doth take revenge out of the hands of choler, punisheth not himselfe, but him that deserveth it: and thus he doth surely, putting his owne person in no danger, without damage and losse, nay, with great profit and commodity. Now, whereas all passions whatsoever of the minde had need of use and eu­stome, to tame (as it were) and vanquish by exercise, that which in them is unruely, rebellious and disobedient to reason: certes, in no one point besides had we need to be more exercised, (I meane as touching those dealings that we have with our housholde servants) than in anger: for there is no envy & emulation that ariseth in us toward thē, there is no feare that we need to have 30 of them, neither any ambition that troubleth or pricketh us against them; but ordinary and con­tinuall fits of anger we have every day with them, which breed much offence and many errours, causing us to tread awry, to slip and do amisse sundry waies, by reason of that licentious libertie unto which we give our selves, all the whiles that there is none to controll, none to stay, none to forbid and hinder us: and therefore being in so ticklish a place, and none to sustaine and holde us up, soone we catch a fall, and come downe at once. And a hard matter it is (I may say to you) when we are not bound to render an account to any one, in such a passion as this, to keepe our selves upright, and not to offend; unlesse we take order before-hand to restraine and empale (as it were) round about, so great a libertie with meeknesse and clemencie, unlesse (I say) we be well inured and acquainted to beare and endure many shrewd and unhappy words of our wives, 40 much unkinde language of friends and familiars, who many times do chalenge us for being too remisse, over-gentle, yea, and altogether carelesse and negligent in this behalfe. And this in trueth, hath bene the principall cause that I have bene quicke and sharpe unto my servants, for feare lest they might proove the woorse for not being chastised. But at the last, though late it were, I perceived; First, that better it was by long sufferance and indulgence, to make them somewhat woorse, than in seeking to reforme and amend others, to disorder and spoile my selfe with bitternesse and choler: Secondly, when I saw many of them often-times, even because they were not so punished, feare and shame to do evil, and how pardon and forgivenesse was the beginning of their repentance and conversion, rather than rigour and punishment; and that I asture you, they would serve some more willingly with a nod or winke of the eie, and without a 50 word spoken, than others with all their beating and whipping: I was at last perswaded in my minde and resolved, that reason was more woorthy to command and rule as a master, than ire and wrath. For true it is not that the Poet saith:

but cleane contrary: Looke who are bashfull and ashamed; in them there is imprinted a cer­taine feare that holdeth them in good order: whereas continuall beating and laying on without [Page 127] mercy, breedeth not repentance in servants for evill doing, but rather a kinde of forecast and providence, how they should not be spied nor taken in their evill doing. Thirdly, calling to re­membrance, and considering evermore with my selfe, that he who taught us to shoot, forbad us not to draw a bowe or to shoot an arrow, but to misse the marke: no more will this be any let or hinderance, but that we may chastise and punish our servants, if we be taught to do it in time and place, with moderation and measure, profitably, and decently as it apperteineth. And verily I do enforce my selfe, and strive to master my choler and subdue it principally, not denying unto them who are to be punished, the libertie and meanes to justifie themselves, but in hearing them to speake what they can for their excuse. For as time and space doeth in the meane time finde the passion occupied another way, and withall bring a certaine delay, which doeth slacke and let 10 downe (as it were) the vehemencie and violence thereof; so judgement of reason, all the while meeteth both with a decent maner and also with a convenient meane and measure of doing pu­nishment accordingly. And besides, this course and maner of proceeding, leaveth him that is punished, no cause, occasion or pretense at all, to resist and strive againe, considering that he is chastised and corrected not in choler and anger, but being first convinced, that he had well de­served his correction: and (which were yet woorse than all the rest) the servant shall not have vantage to speake more justly and to better reason than his master. Well then, like as Phocion after the death of Alexander the great, having a care not to suffer the Athenians to rise over­soone, or make any insurrection before due time, ne yet to give credit rashly unto the newes of his death: My masters of Athens (quoth he) if he be dead to day, he will be dead to morow also, 20 and three daies hence to; even so should a man (in mine opinion) who by the impulsion and instigation of anger, maketh haste to take punishment, thus suggest and secretly say to himselfe: If this servant of mine hath made a fault to day, it will be as true to morrow, and the next day after that he hath done a fault; neither will there be any harme or danger at all come of it, if hee chaunce to be punished with the latest: but beleeve me, if he be punished over-soone, it will be alwaies thought that he had wrong, and did not offend: a thing that I have knowen to happen full often. For which of us all is so curst & cruel, as to punish and scourge a servant, for burning the roast five or ten daies ago? or for that so long before he chanced to overthrow the table? or was somewhat with the slowest in making answer to his Master; or did his errand or other busi­nes not so soone as he should? and yet we see these & such like be the ordinary causes for which 30 (whiles they be fresh and new done) we take on, we stampe and stare, we chafe, we frowne, we are implacable and will heare of no pardon: And no marvaile, for like as any bodies seeme bigger through a mist; even so every thing appeereth greater than it is, through anger. And therefore at these and such like faults, we should winke for the time, and make as though we sawthem not, and yet thinke upon them neverthelesse, and beare them in minde. But after­wards when the storme is well overblowen, we are with out passion, & do not suspect our selves, then we may do well to consider thereof: and then if upon mature deliberation, when our mind is staied and our senses setled, the thing appeere to be naught, we are to hate and abhor it, and in no wise either to for-let and put of, or altogether to omit and forbeare correction, like as they refuse meats who have no stomacke nor appetite to eat. For certeinly it is not a thing so 40 much to be blamed, for to punish one in anger, as not to punish when anger is past and alaied, and so to be retchlesse and desolute: doing as idle mariners, who so long as the sea is calme and the weather faire, loiter within the harbor or haven, but afterwards when a tempest is up, spread sailes and put themselves into danger. For even so we, condemning and neglecting the remissenesse and calmnesse of reason in case of punishment, make haste to execute the same during the heat of choler, which no doubt is a blustring and turbulent winde. As for meat he calleth for it in deed, and taketh it naturally who is a hungrie: but surely he executeth punish­ment best, who neither hungreth nor thirsteth after it: neither hath he need to use choler as a sauce or deintie dish for to get him a stomacke and appetite to correct: but even when he is far­thest off from desire of revenge, then of necessitie he is to make use of reason and wisdome to 50 direct him: for we ought not to do, as Aristotle writeth in his time the maner was in Tuskane; To whip servants with sound of flutes and hautboies; namely to make a sport and pastime of punishing men, and to solace our selves with their punishment for pleasures sake, and then af­terwards when we have done, repent us of it: for as the one is brutish and beastlike; so the other is as womanish and unmanly: but without griefe and pleasure both, at what time as reason and judgement is in force, we ought to let justice take punishment, and leave none occasion at all for choler to get advantage. But peradvenure some one will say, that this is not properly the [Page 128] way to remedie or cure anger; but rather a putting by or precaution that we should not commit any of those faults which ordinarily follow that passion: Unto whom I answere thus; That the swelling of the Spleene is not the cause but a symptome or accident of a fever: howbeit if the said humour be fallen and the paine mitigated, the feaver also will be much eased, according as Hieronymus saith. Also when I consider by what meanes choler is engendred: I see that one fal­leth into it upon this cause, another upon that: but in all of them, it seemeth this generall opi­nion there is, that they thinke themselves to be despised and naught set by. And therefore we ought to meet with such as seeme to defend and mainteine themselves, as being angry for just cause, and to cure them after this maner; namely, by diverting and remooving from them, as far as ever we can, all suspicion of contempt and contumacie in those that have offended them and 10 mooved their anger; in laying the fault upon inconsiderate follie, necessitie, sicknesse, infirmi­tie and miserie, as Sophocles did in these verses,

And Agamemnon, albeit he laid the taking away of Briseis from Achilles upon Ate (that is to say) some fatall infortunitie, yet

For to beseech and intreat, are signes of a man that despiseth not, and when the partie who hath given offence becometh humble and lowly, he remooveth all the opinion that might be concei­ved of contempt. But he that is in a fit of choler must not attend and waite until he see that, but rather helpe himselfe with the answer of Diogenes. These fellowes here said one unto him, do deride thee Diogenes; but I (quoth he againe) do not finde that I am derided; even so ought a man who is angry not to be perswaded that he is contemned of another, but rather that him­selfe hath just cause to contemne him, and to thinke that the fault committed did proced of in­firmitie, error, heady-rashnesse, sloth and idlenesse, a base and illiberall minde, age or youth. And as for our servants and friends we must by all meanes quit them hereof, or pardon them at leastwise: For surely they cannot be thought to contemne us, in regard that they thinke us 30 unable to be revenged, or men of no execution if we went about it: but it is either by reason of our remissenes and mildnesse, or else of our love and affection that we seeme to be smally re­garded by them, whiles our servants presume of our tractable nature, easie to be pacified, and our friends of our exceeding love that cannot be soone shaken off. But now we are provoked to anger, not onely against our wives, or servitors and friends, as being contemned by them; but also many times in our choler we fall upon In-keepers, Mariners and Muliters, when they be drunke, supposing that they despise us. And that which more is, we are offended with dogs when they bay or barke at us; and with asses if they chance to fling out and kicke us. Like unto him who lifted up his hand to strike and beat him that did drive an asse; and when the man cried that he was an Athenian: But thou I am sure art no Athenian (quoth he) to the asse, and laid up­on 40 the poore beast as hard as he could, and gave him many a blow with his cudgell. But that which chiefly causeth us to be angrie, and breedeth a continuall disposition thereto in our minds, causing us so often to breake out into fits of choler, which by little and little was ingen­dred and gathered there before, is the love of our owne selves, and a kinde of froward surlinesse hardly to be pleased, together with a certaine daintinesse and delicacie, which all concurring in one, breed and bring foorth a swarme (as it were) of bees, or rather a waspes neast in us. And therefore there cannot be a better meanes for to carrie our selves mildly and kindly, towards our wives, our servants, familiars and friends, than a contented minde, and a singlenesse or simpli­citie of heart, when a man resteth satisfied with whatsoever is present at hand, and requireth nei­ther things superfluous nor exquisite, 50

who with rods and whips plieth and hastneth the servitors at the table, making them to runne untill they sweat againe, crying and bawling at them to come away apace, as if they were not ca­rying dishes of meat, but plasters and cataplasmes for some inflammation or painfull impo­stume: 10 subjecting himselfe after a slavish manner to a servile kinde of diet and life, full of dis­contentment, quarrels and complaints: little knoweth such an one how by a continuall cough, or many concussions & distemperatures, he hath brought his soule to an ulcerous and rheuma­tike disposition about the seat and place of anger. And therfore we must use the body by fruga­litie to take up and learne to be content with a competent meane (forasmuch as they who desire but a little, can never be disappointed nor frustrat of much) finding no fault, nor keeping any stir at the beginning about meat, but standing satisfied without saying a word, with that which God sendeth whatsoever it be, not fretting, vexing and tormenting our selves at the table about everie thing, and in so doing, serving both our selves and our companie about us of friends, with the most unsavorie messe of meat, that is to wit, choler: 20

Namely, whiles the servants be beaten, the wife chidden and reviled for the meat burnt, for smoke in the parlor, for want of salt, or for the bread over stale and drie. But Arcesilaus upon a time with other friends of his, feasted certaine strangers and hosts of his abroad, whose guest he had beene; and after the supper was come in, and meat set upon the boord, there wanted bread, by reason that his servants had forgotten and neglected to buy any: for such a fault as this, which of us here would not have cried out that the walles should have burst withall, and beene readie to have throwen the house out of the window? And he laughing at the matter: He had need be a wise man (quoth he) I see well, that would make a feast and set it out as it should be. 30 Socrates also upon a time, when he came from the wrestling schoole, tooke Euthydemus home with him to supper: but Xantippe his wife fel a chiding and scoulding with him at the boord, revi­ling him with most bitter tearmes, so long, until at last in an anger downe went table and all that was upon it: Whereupon Euthydemus arose, and was about to depart; but Socrates: Will you be gone (quoth he?) Why, do you not remember that the other day as we sat at supper in your house, there flew up to the boord a hen and did as much for you? and yet were not we offen­ded nor angrie for the matter. And in verie truth, we must entertaine our friends and guests, with courtesie, mirth, a smiling countenance, and affectionate love: and not to brow-beat them, not yet put the servitors in a fright, and make them quake and tremble with our frowning lookes. Also we ought so to accustome our selves that we may be content to be served with 40 any kinde of vessels whatsoever, and not upon a daintinesse to have a minde to this, rather then to that, but to like all indifferently. And yet there be some so diyers, that although there be ma­nie cups and goblets standing upon the boord, choose onefrom the rest, and cannot drinke for­sooth but out of that one: according as the Stories doe report of Marius, who loved one mazar, and could drinke out of no other. Thus they doe by their oile cruets and currying combs or rubbers, when they are at the baines or stouphes, taking a fancie and affection to some one above the rest but if it chaunce that one of them be crackt, broken, or be lost and miscarie any way; then they are exceeding angrie and fall to beating of their servants. Such men there­fore as finde themselves to be cholerike, should do well to forbeare all rare and exquisite things, to wit, pots, cups, seale rings of excellent workmanship and pretious stones. For that such 50 costly jewels if they be marred or lost, breed more anger and set men out of order, more than those which be ordinarie and easie to be come by. And therefore when Nero the Emperour had caused to be made a certaine pavilion or tabemacle eight square, which was both for the beautie and cost, exceeding faire and sumptuous, and indeed an admirable piece of worke. In this Tabernacle (quoth Seneca) unto him, you have bewraied ô Caesar that you are but a poore man: for if you lose this once, you shall never be able to recover and get the like againe. And so it fell out indeed, for the ship, whetein the same Tabernacle was, chanced to be cast away up­on [Page 130] the sea, and all was drowned. But Nero calling to minde the words of Seneca, tooke the losse more patiently.

Moreover, this contentment of mind, and easinesse to be pleased with any thing in the house, causeth a man also to be more gentle, milde, and better contented with his servants and people about him: now if it worke this effect in us toward our housholde servants, evident it is that we shalbe likewise affected to our friends & those that be under our government. We see also, that slaves new bought, are inquisitive as touching him who hath bought them; not whether he be superstitious and envious; but whether he be cholerike and hasty or no. And to be briefe, nei­ther can husbands endure the pudicity and honesty of their wives; nor wives the love of their husbands; ne yet friends the mutuall conversation one with another, if there doe an angry and 10 cholerike humor goe withall. Thus we see, that neither mariage nor amity be tollerable with choler. Contrariwise, if anger be away, even drunkennesse it selfe is tollerable and we can easi­ly abide it: for the very ferula of god Bacchus is a sufficient punishment of drunkennesse, if so be there be not choler therewith, which may cause Bacchus, that is, Strong wine, in stead of Lyaeus and Chorius, that is to say, The Looser of cares and Leader of daunces (which are his surnames) to be called Omestes and Maenoles, which signifie Cruell and Furious. As for simple madnesse of it selfe alone, the Ellebore growing in Antycira, is sufficient to cure: but if it be mingled with choler, it causeth Tragicall fits, and those so strange, that a man would repute them for meere fables. And therefore we must not give place to anger, neigher in sport and pastime; for in lieu of good will it breedeth enmitie: nor in conference and disputations; for it turneth the love and 20 desire of knowledge into debate and contention: nor in deciding and judging causes; because to authority it addeth violence and insolency: nor in the teaching and instruction of our chil­dren; for it maketh them desperate and haters of learning: nor in prosperity; for it encreaseth the envy and grudge of men: ne yet in adversity, because it taketh away pitty and compassion, when they who are fallen into any misfortune, shew themselves testie, froward and quarellous to those who come to moane and mourne with them. This did Priamus, as we reade in Homer:

On the other side, faire conditions and milde behaviour, yeeldeth succour and helpe in some cases; composeth and ordereth matters aright in others; dulceth and alaieth that which is tart and sowre: and in one word, by reason of that kinde, meeke and gentle quality, it overcommeth anger and all waiward testinesse whatsoever. Thus it is reported of Euclides in a quarrell or vari­ance betweene him and his brother: For when his brother had contested and said unto him; I would I might die, if be not revenged of thee: he inferred againe; Nay, let me die for it, if I perswade thee not otherwise before I have done; by which one word he presently woon his bro­thers heart, so that he changed his mind, and they parted friends. Polemon likewise, at a certaine time, when one who loved precious stones, & was sicke for faire & costly rings & such like curi­ous jewels, did raile at him outragiously; answered not a word againe, but looked very wistly up­on 40 one of the signets that the other had, and well considered the fashion and workemanship thereof: which when the party perceived, taking as it should seeme no small contentment, and being very well pleased that he so porused his jewell; Not so Polemon (quoth he againe) but looke upon it thus, betweene you and the light, and then you will thinke it much more beauti­full. Aristippus fell out upon a time (I know not how) with Aeschines, and was in a great choler and fit of anger: How now Aristippus (quoth one who heard him so high & at such hot words) where is your amity & friendship all this while? Mary, asleepe (quoth he) but I wil waken it anon. With that he stept close to Atschines, and said: Thinke you me so unhappy every way and in­curable, that I deserved not one admonishment at your hands? No marvell (quoth Aeschines againe) if thought you (who for naturall wit in all things els excel me) to see better in this case 50 also than I, what is meet and expedient to be done. For true it is that the Poet saith;

[Page 131] And we our selves can skill how to tame wilde beasts, we know how to make yoong woolves gentle, yea, and lions whelps other-whiles we cary about with us in our armes: but see, how we againe afterwards in a raging fit of choler, be ready to fling from us and cast out of our sight, our owne children, our friends and familiars, and all our houshold servants, our fellow citizens and neighbours, we let loose our ire like some savage and furious beast, and this rage of ours we disguise and cloke forsooth with a colourable and false name, calling it Hatred of vice. But heerein (I suppose) we doe no otherwise than in the rest of our passions and diseases of the minde; tearming one, Providence and forecast; another Liberalitie; and a third Pietie and re­ligion: and yet for all these pretenses of goodly names, we can not be cured of the vices which they palliate; to wit, Timorousnesse, Prodigalitie and Superstition. 10

And verily, like as our naturall seed (as Zeno said) is a certeine mixture and composition, derived and extracted from all the powers and faculties of the soule; even so, in mine opini­on, a man may say that choler is a miscellane feed (as it were) and a dregge, made of all the passi­ons of the mind: for plucked it is from paine, pleasure and insolent violence: Of envie it hath this qualitie to joy in the harmes of other men: it standeth much upon murder, but woorse it is simply than murder: for the wrathfull person striveth and laboureth not to defend and save himselfe from taking harme; but so he may mischiefe and overthrow another, he careth not to come by a hurt and shrewd turne himselfe. It holdeth likewise of concupiscence and lust, and taketh of it the worse and more unpleasant part, in case it be (as it is indeed) a desire and appetite to greeve, vexe, and harme another. And therefore when we approch and come neere to the 20 houses of luxurious and riotous persons, we heare betimes in the morning a minstrel-wench, sounding and playing the Morrow-watch by breake of day: we see the muddy-grounds and dregs (as one was wont to say) of the wine, to wit, the vomits of those who cast up their stomacks: we behold the peeces and fragments of broken garlands and chaplets: and at the dore we finde the lackies and pages of them who are within, drunken and heavie in the head with tipling strong wine. But the signes that tell where hastie, cholericke, and angry persons dwell, appeere in the faces of their servants, in the marks and wales remaining after their whipping, and in their clogs, yrons, and fetters about their feete. For in the houses of hastie and angrie men, a man shall never heare but one kind of musicke; that is to say, the heavie note of wailing grones and piteous plaints; whiles either the stewards within are whipped and scourged, or the mai­dens 30 racked & put to torture, in such sort that you would pitie to see the dolors & paines of yre which she suffreth in those things that she lusteth after & taketh pleasure in. And yet as many of us as happen to be truly & justly surprised with choler oftentimes, for the harted & detestation that we have of vices, ought to cut off that which is excessive therein and beyond measure, to­gether with our over-light beleefe and credulitie of reports concerning such as converse with us: For this is one of the causes that most of all doth engender and augment choler; when either he whom we tooke for an honest man prooveth dishonest, and is detected for some naughti­nesse, or whom we reputed our friend is fallen into some quarrell and variance with us: as for my selfe, you know my nature and disposition, what small occasions make me both to love men ef­fectually, and also to trust them confidently; and therefore (just as it falleth out with them 40 who go over a false floore where the ground is not fast, but hollow under their feete) where I leane most and put my greatest trust for the love that I beare, there I offend most and soonest catch a fall: there (I say) am I grieved most also, when I see how I was deceived: As for that exceeding inclination and frowardnes of mind, thus to love and affect a man, could I never yet to this day weane my selfe from, so inbred it is and setled in me: mary to stay my selfe from gi­ving credit over-hastily and too much, I may peradventure use that bridle which Plato speaketh of, to wit, wary circumspection: for in recommending the Mathematician Helicon, I praise him (quoth he) for a man, that is as much to say, as a creature by nature mutable and apt to change. And even those who have beene well brought up in a citie, to wit, in Athens, he saith that he is afraid likewise of them, lest being men, and comming from the seed of man, they do not one 50 time or other bewray the weaknesse and infirmitie of humane nature: and Sophocles when he speaketh thus,

seemeth to clip our wings, and disable us wonderfully. Howbeit this difficultie and caution in judging of men and pleasing our selves in the choise of friends, will cause us to be more tracta­ble and moderate in our anger: for whatsoever commeth sodainly and unexpected, the same [Page 132] soone transporteth us beside our selves. We ought moreover as Panatius teacheth us in one place to practise the example of Anaxagoras, and like as he said when newes came of his sons death; I know well (quoth he) that I begat him a mortall man; so in every fault of our servants or others that shall whetten our choler, ech one of us may sing this note to himselfe: I knew wel that when I bought this slave, he was not a wise Philosopher: I wist also, that I had gotten formy friend not one altogether void of affections and passions: neither was I ignorant when I tooke a wife, that I wedded a woman. Now if withall a man would evermore when he seeth others do amisse, adde this more unto the dittie as Plato teacheth us, and sing thus: Am not I also such an other? turning the discursion of his judgement from things abroad, to those which are with in himselfe, and among his complaints and reprehensions of other men, come in with a cer­teine 10 caveat of his owne, and feare to be reproved himselfe in the like; he would not haply be so quicke & forward in the hatred and detestation of other mens vices, seeing that himselfe hath so much need of pardon. But on the contrary side, every one of us when he is in the heat of cho­ler and punisheth another, hath these words of severe Aristides and precise Cato ready enough in his mouth: Steale not Sirrha: Make no more lies: Why art thou so idle then? &c. To conclude (that which of all others is most unseemely and absurd) we reproove in anger, others for being angry; and such faults as were committed in choler, those our selves will punish in choler; not verily as the Physicians useto do, who

But we rather doe encrease the same with our bitternesse, and make more trouble than was be­fore. And therefore when I thinke and discourse with my selfe of these matters, I endevour withall and assay to cut off somewhat from needlesse curiositie. For surely this narrow searching and streight looking into everie thing, for to spie and find out a fault; as for example to sift thy servant and call him into question for all his idle houres; to prie into every action of thy friend; to see where about thy sonne goeth, and how he spendeth all his time; to listen what whispering there is betweene thy wife and another, be the verie meanes to breed much anger, daily braules, and continualljarres, which grow in the end to the height of curstnesse and frowardnes, hard to be pleased with any thing whatsoever. For according as Euripides saith in one place, we ought in some forto do: 30

For mine owne part, I do not thinke it good to commit any busines to Fortune; neither would I have a man of understanding to be retchlesse in his owne occasions: But with some things to put his wife in trust; others to make over unto servants, and in some matters to use his friends. Herein to beare himselfe like a Prince and great commaunder, having under him his Deputies, Governours, Receivers, Auditors, and Procurators; reserving unto himselfe and to the dispo­sition of his owne judgement, the principall affaires, and those of greatest importance. For like as little letters or a small print do more offend and trouble the eies then greater, for that the eies be verie intentive upon them; even so, small matters doe quickly moove choler, which thereup­on 40 soone getteth an ill custome in weightier matters. But above all, I ever reckon that saying of Empedoles to be a divine precept and heavenly oracle, which admonisheth us To fast from sin. I commended also these points and observations, as being right honest, commendable, and be­seeming him, that maketh profession of wisedome and philosophie, which we use to vow unto the gods in our praiers: Namely, To forbeare both wine and women, and so to live sober and chaste a whole yeere together, and in the meane while to serve God with a pure and undefiled heart: Also, to limit and set out a certaine time, wherein we would not make a lie, observing precisely not to speake any vaine and idle word, either in earnest or in bourd. With these and such like observations also, I acquainted and furnished my soule, as being no lesse affected to teligion and godlines, than studious of learning and philosophie: Namely, first enjoined my selfe to passe a certaine few 50 Holy-daies without being angrie, or offended upon any occasion whatsoever; no lesse than I would have vowed to forbeare drunkennesse, and abstaine altogether from wine, as if I sacrificed at the feast Nephalta [wherein no wine was spent] or celebrated the solemnitie Melisponda, [in which Honie onely was used.] Thus having made an entrance; I tried afterwards a moneth or two by little and little what I could do, and ever I gained more and more time, exercising my selfe still to forbeare sinne with all my power and might. Thus I proceeded and went for­ward daily, blessing my selfe with good words and striving to be milde, quiet and voide of ma­lice, [Page 133] pure and cleane from evill speeches awd lewd deeds: but principally from that passion which for a little pleasure, and the same not verie lovely, bringeth with it great troubles and shamefull repentance in the end. Thus with the grace of God, assisting me somewhat (as I take it) in this good resolution and course of mine, experience it selfe approoved and confirmed my first intenr and judgement, whereby I was taught, That this mildnesse, clemency, and debonaire humanitie, is to none of our familiars who live and converse daily with us, so sweete, so pleasant and agreeable, as to our selves who have these vertues and good qualities within us. 10

OF CVRIOSITIE.

THe best way haply it were altogether to avoid an house and not therein at all to dwell, which is close without fresh aire, darke, stan­ding bleake and colde, or otherwise unhealthfull: Howbeit, if a man by reason that he hath beene long used to such an house, de­light in that seat, and will there abide, he may either by altering the prospects and remooving the lights, or by changing the staires in­to 10 another place, or else by opening the dores of one side, & shut­ting them upon another, make the house more lightsome, better exposed to the wind for to receive fresh aire, & in one word more holsome than before. And verily some have much amended whole cities by the like alterati­ons: as for example, men say that one Chaeron in times past turned my native citie and place of nativitie Chaeronea to lie eastward, which before looked toward the westerne winde Zephyrus, and received the sunne setting from the mount Pernassus. And Empedocles the naturall Philo­sopher, by stopping up the mouth or deepe chinke of a certeine mountaine between two rocks, which breathed out a noisome and pestilent southerne winde upon all the champian countrey and plaine underneath, was thought to have put by the plague, which by occasion of that wind 20 reigned ordinarily before in that countrie. Now forasmuch as there be certeine hurtfull and pestiferous passions, which send up into our soule tempestuous troubles and darknesse, it were to be wished, that they were chased out quite, and throwne downe to the very ground; whereby we might give our selves a free prospect, an open and cleere light, a fresh and pure aire; or if we be not so happie, yet at leastwise endevour, we ought by all meanes possible to change, alter, translate, transpose and turne them so about, as they may be found more fit and commodious to serve our turnes. As for example, and to go no farther for the matter, Curiositie, which I take to be a desire to know the faults and imperfections in other men, is a vice or disease which seemeth not cleere of envie and maliciousnesse: And unto him that is infected therewith may very well be said, 30

avert thine eies a little from things without, and turne thy much medling and curiosity to those that be within. If thou take so great a pleasure and delight to deale in the Knowledge and Histo­rie of evill matters, thou hast worke enough iwis at home, thou shalt finde plentie thereof with­in to occupie thy selfe;

Such a multitude shalt thou finde of sinnes in thy life, of passions in thy soule, and of oversights in thy duties. For like as Xenophon saith, That good stewards of an houshold have one proper roome by it selfe for those utensiles or implements which serve for sacrifice; another for vessell that cometh to the table; in one place he laieth up the instruments & tooles for tillage and hus­bandry, and in another apart from the rest, he bestoweth weapons, armour, and furniture for the wars; even so shalt thou see within thy selfe a number of manifold vices how they are digested: some proceeding from envie, others from jealousie; some from idlenesse, others from nigar­dise: take account of these (I advise thee) survey and peruse them over well: shut all the dores 50 and windowes that yeeld prospect unto thy neighbors: stop up the avennes that give accesse and passage to Curiosity: But set open all other doores that lead into thine owne bed-chamber, and other lodgings for men, into thy wives cabinet & the nourcery, into the roomes where thy servants keepe: There shalt thou meet wherewith to amuse and busie thy selfe: there may curi­ositie and desire to know every thing be emploied in exercises, neither unprofitable nor mali­cious: nay, in such as be commodious, holsome and tending to salvation: namely, whiles every one calleth himselfe to account, saying thus,

But now according as fables make report, that Lamia the Witch whiles she is at home is starke blind, & doth nothing but sing, having her eies shut up close within a little boxe; but when she meanes to go abroad, she takes them foorth, and setteth them in their right place, and seeth well enough with them; even so, every one of us when we go foorth, set unto that evill meaning and intention which we have to others, an eie to looke into them, and that is curiosity and over­much medling; but in our owne errors, faults and trespasses we stumble and faile through igno­rance, 10 as having neither eies to see, nor light about them whereby they may be seene. And therefore it is, that a busie fellow and curious medler, doth more good to his enimies than to himself; for their faults he discovereth & bringeth to light, to them he sheweth what they ought to beware of, and what they are to amend: but all this while he overseeth, or rather seeth not the most things that are done at home, so deeply amused he is and busie in spying what is amisse abroad. Howbeit wise Ulysses would not abide to speake and confer with his owne mother, be­fore he had enquired of the Prophet those things for which he went downe into hel; and when hee had once heard them, then he turned to his mother and other women also, asking what was Tyro? what was Chloris? and for what was the occasion and cause that Eperaste came by her death? 20

But we quite contrary, sitting still in supine idlenesse and ignorance, neglecting and never re­garding that which concerneth our selves, goe to search into the genealogie and pedigrees of others; and we can tell readily, that our neighbours grandfather was no better than a base and servile Syrian; that his nourse came out of barbarous Thracia; that such an one is in debt, and oweth three talents, and is behinde hand besides, and in arrerages for non-paiment of interest for the use thereof. Inquisitive also we are in such matters as these: From whence came such a mans wife? what it was that such a one and such a one spake when they were alone together in an odde corner? Socrates was cleane of another quality; he would goe up and downe enquiring 30 and casting about what were the reasons wherewith Pythagoras perswaded men to his opinion. Aristippus likewise, at the solemnitie of the Olympian games, falling into the companie of Is­chomachus, asked of him, what were the perswasions that Socrates used to yong folk, wherby they became so affectionate unto him; and after he had received from him some small seeds (as it were) and a few samples of those reasons & arguments, he was so mooved and passionate there­with, that presently his body fell away, he looked pale, poore and leane, untill he having failed to Athens in this woonderfull thirst and ardent heat, had drunke his fill at the fountaine and well­head it selfe, knowen the man, heard his discourses and learned his Philosophie; the summe and effect whereof was this: That a man should first know his owne maladies, and then the meanes to be cured and delivered of them. But some there be, who of all things can not abide to see 40 their owne life, as being unto them the most unpleasant sight of all others; neither love they to bend and turne their reason as a light to their owne selves: but their minde being full of all sorts of evill, fearing and ready to quake for to beholde what things are within, leapeth foorth (as one would say) out of doores, and goeth wandring to and fro, searching into the deeds and words of other men, and by this meanes feedeth and fatteth (as it were) her owne malicious naughti­nesse. For like as a hen many times having meat enough within house set before her, loveth to go into some corner, and there keepeth a pecking and scraping of the ground,

even so these busie Polypragmons, passing by those ordinary speeches and matters which are 50 exposed and open for every man; not regarding (I say) the reports and narrations which are free for ech one to discourse of, and which neither any man hath to doe, to forbid and warne them for to aske and enquire of, nor will be displeased if peradventure hee should be deman­ded and asked the question of them, goe up and downe in the meane time to gather and learne all the secret and hidden evils of every house. Certes, a prety answere it was of an Aegyptian, and pertinent to the purpose, who when one asked him, what it was that he caried covered all over, and so enwrapped within a cloth: Mary (quoth he) covered it is even for this cause, that [Page 136] thou shouldest not know what it is: And thou likewise, that art so busie, why doest thou inter­meddle in that which is concealed? Be sure, that if there were no evill therein, kept close it should not be. And verily, it is not the maner and custome for any body to enter boldly into the house of another man, without knocking at the doore; for which purpose we use Porters in these daies; whereas in olde time there were rings and hammers which served the turne, and by rapping at the gates, gave warning to those within, to the end that no stranger might meet the mistresse at unawares in the hall or mids of the house; or come suddenly upon a virgin or yong damosell her daughter, and find her out of her chamber; or take some of the servants a beating, or the wenches and chambermaids chiding and scoulding aloud: whereas a busie fellow loveth a-life to step secretly into a house, for to see and heare such disorders; and you shall never know 10 him willingly to come and see an honest house and well governed (though one should call and pray him never so faire,) but ready he is to discover and set abroad in the view of the whole world such things; for which we use locks, keies, bolts, barres, portals and gate-houses. Those windes (saith Ariston) are we most troubled and offended with, which drive open our cloaks and garments that cover us, or blow and whiske them over our heads: but busie Polypragmons doth lay abroad and display not the cloaks of their neighbours nor their coats; but discovereth their walles, setteth wide open their doores, and like a winde, pierceth, creepeth and entreth so farre, as to the tender bodied and soft skinned maiden, searching and inquiring in every bacchi­nall, in all dauncings, wakes and night feasts, for some matter to raise slanders of her. And as one Cleon was noted by an olde Comicall Poet upon the State, 20

Even so the spirit of a curious and busie person, is at one time in the stately palaces of rich and mighty men, in the little houses of meane and poore folke, in Kings Courts, and in the bed­chambers of new wedded wives; it is inquisitive in all matters, searching aswell the affaires of strangers and travellers, as negotiations of Lords and Rulers, and other-while not without dan­ger of his owne person. For much like as if a man upon a kinde of wanton curiositie, will needs be tasting of Aconite or Libard-baine, to know (forsooth) the quality of it, commeth by a mis­chiefe, & dieth of it before he can know any thing therof; so they that love to be prying into the faults of great persons, many times overthrow themselves before they come to any knowledge, 30 For such as can not be content with the abundant raies and radiant beames of the Sunne which are spread so cleere over all things, but will needs strive and force themselves impudently to looke full upon the circle of his body, and audaciously will presume and venture to pierce his brightnesse, and enter into the very minds of his inward light, commonly dazzle their eies, and become starke blinde. And therefore well and properly answered Philippides the writer of Co­medies upon a time when King Lysimachus spake thus unto him; What wouldest thou have me to impart unto thee of my goods, Philippides? What it pleaseth your Maiesty (quoth he) so it be nothing of your secrets. For to say a truth, the most pleasant and beautifull things simply, which belong to the estate of Kings, do shew without, and are exposed to the view and sight of every man; to wit, their sumptuous feasts, their wealth and riches, their magnificent port and 40 and pompe in publike places, their bountifull favours, and liberall gifts: But is there any thing secret and hidden within. Take heed I advise thee how thou approch and come neere, beware (I say) that thou do not stirre and meddle therein.

The joy and mirth of a Prince in prosperitie can not be concealed; hee cannot laugh when he is disposed to play and be merry but it is seene; neither when he mindeth and doth prepare to shew some gracious favour or to be bountifull unto any is his purpose hidden; but marke what thing he keepeth close and secret, the same is terrible, heavie, stearne, unpleasant, yea ministring no accesse nor cause of laughter: namely the treasure house (as it were) of some ranckor and festered anger; a deepe designe or project of revenge; Jealousie of his wife, some suspicion of his owne sonne; or diffidence and distrust in some of his minions, favorites and friends. Flie 50 from this blacke cloud that gathereth so thicke; for when soever that which is now hidden shall breake foorth, thou shalt see what cracks of thunder and flashes of lightning will ensue there­upon. But what be the meanes to avoid it? mary (even as I said before) to turne and to with­draw thy curiositie another way; and principally to set thy minde upon matters that are more honest and delectable: Advise thy selfe and consider curiously upon the creatures in heaven, in earth, in the aire, & in the sea. Art thou delighted in the contemplation of great or smal things? if thou take pleasure to behold the greater, busie thy selfe about the Sunne; seeke where he go­eth [Page 137] downe, and from whence he riseth? Search into the cause of the mutations in the Moone, why it should so change and alter as it doth, like a man or woman? what the reason is that she looseth so conspicuous a light? and how it commeth to passe that she recovereth it againe?

And these truly are the secrets of nature, neither is she offended and displeased with those who can find them out. Distrustest thou thy selfe to atteine unto these great things? then search in­to smaller matters, to wit, what might the reason be that among trees and other plants, some be alwaies fresh and greene, why they flourish at all times, and be clad in their gay clothes, shewing their riches in every season of the yeere; why others againe be one while like unto them in this their pride and glorie; but afterward you shall have them againe like unto an ill husband in his house; namely, laying out all at once, and spending their whole wealth and substance at one time, untill they be poore, naked, and beggerly for it? Also what is the cause that some bring foorth their fruit long-wise, others cornered, and others round or circular? But perad­venture 20 thou hast no great mind to busie thy selfe and meddle in these matters, because there is no hurt nor danger at all in them. Now if there be no remedie, but that Curiositie should ever apply it selfe to search into evill things after the maner of some venemous serpent, which loveth to feed, to live and converse in pestilent woods, let us lead & direct it to the reading of histories, and present unto it abundance and store of all wicked acts, leawd and sinfull deeds. There shall Curiositie finde the ruines of men, the wasting and consuming of their state, the spoile of wives and other women, the deceitfull traines of servants to beguile their masters, the calumniations and slanderous surmises raised by friends, poisoning casts, envie, jealousie, shipwracke and overthrow of houses, calamities and utter undoing of princes and great rulers: Satisfie thy selfe herewith to the full, and take thy pleasure therein as much as thou wilt; never shalt thou trouble 30 or grieve any of thy friends & acquaintance in so doing. But it should seeme that curiosity de­lighteth not in such naughtie things that be very old and long since done; but in those which be fresh, fire new, hot and lately committed, as joying more to beholde new Tragedies. As for Comedies and matters of mirth, she is not greatly desirous to be acquainted with such. And therefore, if a man do make report of a mariage, discourse of a solemne sacrifice, or of a goodly shew or pompe that was set foorth, the curious busie-bodie, (whom we speake of) will take small regard thereto and heare it, but coldly and negligently. He will say that the most part of all this he heard alreadie by others, and bid him who relateth such narrations, to passe them over or be briefe, and cut off many circumstances. Marie if one that sits by him chance to set tale on end, and begin to tell him there was a maiden defloured, or a wife abused in adulterie: if he recant of 40 some processe of law or action commenced, of discord and variance betweene two brethren; you shall see him then not to yawne and gape as though hee had list to sleepe; you shall not perceive him to nod; hee will make no excuse at all that his leisure will not serve to heare out the tale,

So that this sentence,

is well and truely verified of these curious Polypragmons. For like as cupping glasses, boxes, 50 and ventoses, draw the woorst matter out of the flesh; even so, the eares of curious and busie folke, are willing to receive and admit the most lewd and haughtiest speeches that are: or ra­ther, to speake more properly, as townes and cities have certaine cursed and unluckie gates, at which they send out malefactors to execution, carrie and throw foorth their dung, ordure, filthi­nes, and cleansings whatsoever, but never commeth in or goeth out that way, any thing that pure is and holy; semblably, the eares of these curious intermedlers be of the same nature: for there entreth and passeth into them nothing that is honest, civill and lovely; but the bruit and [Page 138] rumours of cruell murders have accesse unto them, and there make aboad, bringing there with wicked, abominable, profane and cursed reports: and as one said:

So this is the Muse, Syrene, & Mere-maid alone, that Busie folke have; neither is there any thing that they hearken to more willingly: for Curiositie is an itching desire to heare secrets and hid­den matters: and well you wot that no man will lightly conceale any good thing that he hath; considering that manie times we make semblance of good parts that be not in us. And there­fore the busie intermedler who is so desirous to know and heare of evils, is subject to that which the Greekes call [...] a vice, coosen germaine or sister rather to envie and eie-biting. 10 Forasmuch as envie is nothing else, but the griefe for another mans good: and the foresaide [...] the joy for his harme: and verily both these infirmities proceed from an untoward roote, even another untamed vice and savage disposition, to wit, malignitie or malice. And this we know well, that so irkesome and odious it is to everie man for to bewray and reveale, the secrets, evils and vices which he hath, that many men have chosen to die, rather than to discover and open unto Physicians any of their hidden maladies, which they carrie about them. Now suppose that Heraclitus or Erosistratus the physicians; nay AEsculapius himselfe whiles he was a mortall men, should come to an house furnished with drugs, medicines and instruments re­quisite for the cure of diseases, and aske whether any man their had a Fistula in Ano, that is, an hollow and hidden ulcer within his fundament? Or if she be a woman, whether she have a can­kerous 20 sore within her matrice: (albeit in this art such inquisitive curiositie is a speciall meanes, making for the good and the health of the sicke) each one I suppose would be readie to hunt and chase away from the house such a Physician, who unsent for, and before any neede required, came upon his owne accord and motion in a braverie to enquire and learne other folks mala­dies. What shall we say then to these busie medlers, who enquire of another the selfe same infirmities and worse too? Not of any minde at all to cure and heale the same, but onely to de­tect and set them abroad; In which respect they are by good right the most odious persons in the world. For we hardly can abide Publicanes, Customers, and Tol-gatherers, but are mighti­ly offended with them, not when they exact of us, and cause us to pay toll for any commodities or wares that are openly brought in; but when they keepe a firetting and searching for such 30 things as be hidden, and meddle with the wares and carriages of other men: notwithstanding that law granteth and publike authoritie alloweth them so to do; yea and if they doe it not, they sustaine losse and dammage themselves. But contrariwise, these curious fellowes let their owne businesse alone, and passe not which ende go forward, caring not to hinder themselves, whiles they be intentive to the affaires of other men. Seldome go they into the countrie, for that they cannot endure the quietnes and still silence of the wilde and solitarie fields. But if haply after long time they make a cast thither, they cast an eie to their neighbours vines, rather than to their owne; they enquire how many beeves or oxen of his died? or what quantity of wine sowred under his hand? and no sooner are they full of these newes, but into the citie they trudge and make haste againe. As for the good farmer and painefull husbandman indeed, he is not verie 40 willing to give eare unto those newes, which without his hearkning after come from the citie of the owne accord, and are brought unto him, for his saying is:

But in trueth, these busie-bodies, avoiding countrey life and husbandrie, as a vaine trade and foolish occupation, a cold maner of living, which bringeth forth no great and tragicall matter, intrude and thrust themselves into the high courts of Justice, the tribunal seats, the market place and publike pulpits where speeches be made unto the people, great assemblies, and the most 50 frequented quarter of the haven where the ships ride at ankor, what: No newes? saith one of them. How now? Were you not this morning at the market or in the common place? What then: How thinke you, is not the citie mightily changed and transformed within these three houres? Now if it chaunce that some one or other make a overture, and have something to say as touching those points, downe he alights on foot from his horse, he embraceth the man, kisseth him, and there stands attending and giving care unto him. But say that the partie whom he thus encountreth and meeteth upon the way, tell him that he hath no newes to report: what [Page 139] saist thou? (will he infer againe and that in displeasure and discontentment:) Wert not thou in the market place of late? Didst not thou passe by the Princes court? Hadst thou no talke or conference at all with those that came out of Italie? In regard of such therefore as these, I hold well with the Magistrates of the citie Locri, and commend a law of theirs: That if any citizen had beene abroad in the countrey, and upon his returne home demaunded what newes? he should have a fine set on his head. For like as Cookes pray for nothing, but good store of fatlings to kill for the the kitchin, and Fishmongers plentie of fishes; even so curious and busie people wish for a world of troubles and a number of affaires, great newes, alterations and changes of State: to the ende that they might evermore be provided of gaine, to chase and hunt after, yea and to kill. Well and wisely therefore did the Law-giver of the Thurians, when he gave order and for­bad 10 expressely, That no citizen should be taxed, noted by name, or scoffed at upon the Stage in any Comedie, save onely adulterers and these busie persons. For surely adulterie may be com­pared well to a kinde of curiositie, searching into the pleasures of another: seeking (I say) and enquiring into those matters which are kept secret, and concealed from the view of the whole world. And as for curiositie, it seemeth to be a resolution or loosenes, like a palsie or corruption, a detection of secrets and laying them naked: For it is an ordinarie thing with those who be in­quisitive and desirous of many newes, for to be blabs also of their tongues, and to be pratling abroad; which is the reason that Pythagor as injoyned yoong men five yeeres silence, which he called Echemychia, Abstinence from all speech, or holding of their tongue.

Moreover, it can not otherwise be chosen, but that foule and cursed language also should ac­company 20 curiosity; for looke what thing soever busie bodies heare willingly, the same they love to tell and blurt out as quickly; and such things as with desire and care they gather from one, they utter to another with joy: Whereupon it commeth to passe, that over and above o­ther inconveniences which this vice ministreth unto them that are given to it, an impediment it is to their owne appetite. For as they desire to know much, so every man observeth them, is beware of them, and endevoureth to conceale all from them. Neither are they willing to doe any thing in their sight, nor delighted to speak ought in their hearing, but if there be any questi­on in hand to be debated, or businesse to be considered and consulted of, all men are content to put off the conclusion and resolution unto another time; namely, untill the curious and busie person be out of the way. And say, that whiles men are in sad and secret conference, or about 30 some serious businesse, there chance one of these busie bodies to come in place, presently all is husht, and every thing is remooved aside and hidden, no otherwise than folke are woont to set out of the way victuals where a cat doth haunt, or when they see her ready to run by; insomuch as many times those things which other men may both heare and see safely, the same may not be done or said before them onely. Therefore also it followeth by good consequence, that a busie and curious person is commonly so farre out of credit, that no man is willing to trust him for any thing; in such sort, that we commit our letters missive and signe manuell, sooner to our servants and meere strangers, than to our friends and familiars, if we perceive them given to this humor of much medling. But that woorthy knight Bellerophontes was so farre from this, that he would not breake open those letters which he caried, though they were written against him­selfe, 40 but forbare to touch the Kings epistle, no lesse than he abstained from the Queen his wife, even by one and the same vertue of Continence. For surely, curiosity is a kinde of incontinen­cy, aswel as is adultery; and this moreover it hath besides, that joined there is with it, much folly and extreame want of wit: For were it not a part (thinke you) of exceeding blockish senselesse­nesse, yea, and madnesse in the highest degree, to passe by so many women that be common, and every where to be had; and then to make meanes with great cost and expense, to some one kept under locke and key, and besides sumptuous: notwithstanding it fall out many times that such an one is as ill-favored as she is foule? Semblably, and even the same do our curious folke. they omit and cast behinde them many faire and goodly sights to beholde, many excellent le­ctures woorth the hearing, many disputations, discourses, honest exercises and pastimes; but 50 in other mens letters they keepe a puddering, they open and reade them, they stand like eaves­droppers under their neighbours walles, hearkening what is done or said within, they are readie to intrude themselves to listen what whispering there is betweene servants of the house; what secret talke there is among seely women when they be in some odde corner, and, as many times they are by this meanes not free from danger; so alwaies they meet with shame and infamie. And therefore very expedient it were for such curious folke, if they would shift off and put by this vice of theirs, eftsoones to call to mind (as much as they can) what they have either knowen [Page 140] or heard by such inquisition: for if (as Simonides was woont to say) that when hee came (after some time betweene) to open his desks and coffers, he found one which was appointed for gifts and rewards alwaies full, the other ordeined for thanks and the graces void and empty: so, a man after a good time past, set open the store-house of curiosity, and looke into it what is therein, and see it toppe full of many unprofitable, vaine and unpleasant things; peradventure the very outward sight and face thereof will discontent and offend him, appearing in every respect so lovelesse and toyish as it is. Goe to then: if one should set in hand to turne over leafe by leafe the books of ancient writers, and when he hath picked forth and gathered out the woorst, make one volume of all together, to wit, of those headlesse and unperfect verses of Homer, which hap­ly beginne with a short fyllable, and therefore be called [...] or of the solaecismes and incon­gruities 10 which be found in Tragedies: or of the undecent and intemperate speeches which Ar­chilochus framed against women, wherby he defamed and shamed himselfe: were he not (I pray you) woorthy of this Tragicall curse:

but to let these maledictions alone, certes this treasuring and scoring up by him of other mens errors and misdeeds, is both unseemly, and also unprofitable: much like unto that city which Philip built of purpose, and peopled it with the most wicked, gracelesse, and incorrigible 20 persons that were in his time, calling it Poneropolis when he had so done. And therefore these curious meddlers in collecting and gathering together on all sides the errours, imperfections, defaults, and solaecismes (as I may so say) not of verses or Poëmes, but of other mens lives, make of their memorie a most unpleasant Archive or Register, and uncivile Record, which they ever carie about them. And like as at Rome, some there be who never cast eie toward any fine pie­tures, or goodly statures, no nor so much as make any account to cheapen beautifull boies and faire wenches which there stand to be sold, but rather go up and downe the market where mon­sters in nature are to be bought, seeking and learning out where be any that want legs, whose armes and elbowes turne the contrary way like unto cars; or who haue three eies apeece in their heads, or be headed like unto the Ostrich: taking pleasure (I say) to see if there be borne 30

But if a man should bring them to see such sights as these ordinarily, the very thing it selfe would soone give them enough, yea and breed a lothing in them of such ugly monsters; even so it fareth with those who busie themselves and meddle in searching narrowly into the imper­fections of other mens lives, the reproches of their stocks and kinred, the faults, errors, and troubles that have hapned in other houses; if they call to mind what like defects they have found and knowen before time, they shall soone finde that their former observations have done them small pleasure, or wrought them as little profit.

But the greatest meanes to divert this vicious passion, is use and custome; namely, if we be­gin 40 a great way off, and long before to exercise and acquaint our selves in a kind of continencie in this behalfe, and so learne to temper and rule our selves; for surely use it was and custome that caused this vice to get such an head, encreasing daily by little and little, and growing from worse to worse: But how and after what maner we should be inured to this purpose, we shall see and understand as we treat of Exercise withall.

First and formost therefore, begin we will at the smallest and most slender things, and which most quickly may be effected. For what matter of difficultie is it for a man in the way as he tra­velleth, not to enuse and busie his head in reading Epitaphes or inscriptions of Sepulchres? or what paine is it for us as we walke along the galleries, to passe over with our eies the writings upon the walles; supposing thus much secretly within our selves, as a maxime or generall rule: 50 That there is no goodnes, no pleasure, nor profit at all in such writings: for there you may reade, That some one doth remember another, and make mention of him by way of hearty commen­dations in good part; or such an one is the best friend that I have, and many other such like mot­toes, are there to be seene and read, full of toies and vanities, which at first seeme not to do any hurt if one reade them, but in trueth, secretly they do much harme, in that they breed in us a cu­stome and desire to seeke after needlesse and impertinent matters. For like as hunters suffer not their hounds to range out of order, not to follow everie sent, but keepe them up and hold them [Page 141] in by their collars, reserving by that meanes their smelling pure and neat, altogether for their proper worke, to the end that they should be more eager and hot to trace the footing of their game, and as the Poët saith,

even so, we ought to cut off these excursions and foolish traines that curious folke make to heare and see everie thing; to keepe them short (I say) and turne them another way to the seeing and hearing onely of that which is good and profitable. Also, as we observe in Eagles and Li­ons, That whiles they go upon the ground they draw their talons and clawes inward, for feare lest they should dull the sharpe edge and weare the points thereof; so considering that curio­sitie 10 hath a certaine quicke conceit and fine edge (as it were) apt to apprehend and know many things, let us take heed that we do not imploy and blunt the same in the woorst and vilest of all others.

Secondly, we are to accustome our selves as we passe by another mans doore, not to looke in, nor to cast our eies to any thing whatsoever that there is: for that the eie is one of the hands that curiositie useth. But let us alwaies have in readinesse and thinke upon the Apothegme of Xenocrates, who was woont to say, That it skilled not, but was all one, whether we set our feet, or eies within the house of another man. For it is neither meet and just, nor an honest and plea­sant sight, according to the old verse,

And what be those for the most part which are seene in houses? dishes, trenchers, and such like utensiles and small vessels lying on the bare ground, or one upon another disorderly: the wen­ches set and doing just nothing: and lightly a man shall not finde ordinarily ought of impor­tance or delight. Now the verie cast of the eie upon such things, doth therewith turne away the minde; the intentive looking thereupon is unseemely, and the using thereof starcke naught. Diogenes verily upon a time seeing Dioxippus, when he entred in his triumphant chariot into the citie for winning the best prise at the Olympian games, how as he rode he could not chuse but set his eie upon a certaine faire damozell, who was in place to behold this pompe and so­lemne entrance of his, but evermore his eie followed her, whether she were before or behinde 30 him: Behold (quoth he) our victorious and triumphant champion, how a yoong wench hath him sure enough by the necke, and doth writhe him which way she list! Semblably, see you not how these curious folke have their neckes bended aside at everie foolish sight, and how they turne about with each vanitie that they heare and see, after once they have gotten an habit or custome, to looke everie way and to carie a rouling eie in their heads? But in mine opinion, it is not meet that our senses should gad and wander abroad, like a wilde and untaught girle, but when reason hath sent it foorth to some businesse; after it hath beene there emploied and done the errand about which it was set, to returne speedily againe unto her mistresse the soule, and make report how she hath sped and what she hath done? and then afterwards to stay at home decently like a modest waiting maiden, giving attendance upon reason, and readie alwaies at her 40 command. But now hapneth that which Sophocles saith,

The senses having not met with good instructions (as I said before) nor beene trained to right waies, runne before reason upon their owne accord, and draw with them many times the under­standing, and send it headlong after such things as are not seemely and decent. And therefore false is that which is commonly reported of Democritus the Philosopher: namely, that willingly he dimmed and quenched (as it were) his owne sight, by fixing his eies fast upon a fiery and ar­dent mirror, to take the reverberation of the light from thence, to the end that they should not disturbe the minde, by calling out eftsoones the inward intelligence, but suffer it to keepe house 50 within, and to be emploied in objects intellectuall, as if the windowes that regard to the secret and high way were shut up. Howbeit most true it is, that those who for the most part occupie their understanding have least use of their senses: which is the reason that in olde time they both builded the temples of the Muses, that is to say, houses ordained for students, which they named Musaea, as farre as they could from cities and great townes: and also called the night Euphrone, as one would say, friend to sage advice and counsell; as supposing that quiet rest, re­pose, [Page 142] and stilnes from all disturbance make verie much for contemplation, and invention of those things that we studie and seeke for.

Moreover, no harder matter is it nor of greater difficultie than the rest, when in the open market place or common hall, men are at high words, reproching & reviling one another, not to approch and come neere unto them. Also if there be any great concurse and running of peo­ple together upon some occasion, not to stirre at all but sit still, or if thou art not able to con­taine and rule thy selfe, to rise up and goe thy waies. For surely gaine thou shalt no good at all by intermedling with such busie and troublesome persons; but contrariwise, much fruit maist thou reape by turning away such curiositie, in repressing the same and constraining it by use and custome to obey reason. Having made this good entrance & beginning, to proceed now unto 10 farther and stronger exercise, it were verie good, whensoever there is any play exhibited upon the Stage in a frequent Theater, where there is assembled a great audicnce to heare and see some woorthie matter for to passe by it, and to put backe thy friends who sollicite thee to goe thither with them, for to see either one daunce excellent well, or to act a Comedie; nor so much as to turne backe when thou hearest some great shout and outcrie, either from out of the race or the grand-cirque, where the horse-running is held for the prize. For like as Socrates gave counsell to forbeare those meates which provoke men to eate when they are not hungrie, and those drinkes which incite folke to drinke when they have no thirst; even so, we ought to avoide and beware, how we either see or heare any thing whatsoever, which may either draw or hold us thereto, when there is no need at all thereof. The noble Prince Cyrus would not so much as see 20 faire Ladie Panthea, and when Araspes one of his courtiours and minions made report unto him, that she was a woman of incomparable beautie, and therefore woorthie to be looked on: Nay rather (quoth he) for that cause I ought to forbeare the sight of her; for if by your perswa­sion I should yeeld to goe and see her, it may peradventure fall out so, that she her selfe might tempt and induce me againe to repaire unto her; even then haply when I shall not have such leasure, yea and sit by her and keepe her company, neglecting in the meane time the weghtie affaires of the State. In like manner Alexander the Great, would not come within the sight of King Dartus his wife, notwithstanding that she was reported unto him for to be a most gallant and beautifull Ladie: Her mother an auncient Dame and elderly matrone he did not sticke to visite, but the yoong gentlewoman her daughter (fresh, faire and yoong) he could not be 30 brought so much as once to see. As for us, we can cast a wanton eie secretly into the coatches and horse-litters of wives and women as they ride, we can looke out of our windowes, and hang with our bodies halfe foorth, to take the full view of them as they passe by: and all this while we thinke that we commit no fault, suffering our curious eie and wandring minde to slide and run to everie thing.

Moreover, it is meet and expedient for the exercise of justice, otherwhiles to omit that which well and justly might be done; to the end that by that meanes a man may acquaint himselfe to keepe farre off from doing or taking any thing unjustly. Like as it maketh much for tempe­rance and chastitie, to abstaine otherwhiles from the use of a mans owne wife, that thereby he might be never mooved to lust after the wife of his neighbour; taking this course likewise a­gainst 40 curiosity, strive and endevour sometimes to make semblance as though thou didst nei­ther heare nor see those things that properly concerne thy selfe: And if a man come and bring thee a tale of matters concerning thine owne housholde, let it passe, and put it over, yea, and those words which seeme to have beene spoken as touching thine owne person, cast them be­hinde, and give no eare thereto. For default of this discretion, it was the inquisitive curiosity of King Oedipus, which intangled and enwrapped him in exceeding great calamities and miseries: for when he would needs know who himselfe was, as if he had beene not a Corinthian, but a stranger, and would needs goe therefore to the Oracle for to be resolved, he met with Laius his owne father by the way, whom he slew, and so espoused his owne mother, by whose meanes he came to be King of Thebes: and even then when he seemed to be a most happy man, he could 50 not so stay, but proceeded further to enquire concerning himselfe, notwithstanding his wife did what she possibly could disswade him from it; but the more earnest she was with him that way, the more instant was he with an old man who was privie to all, using all meanes to enforce him for to bewray that secret: at length when the thing it selfe was so pregnant, that it brought him into farther suspicion, and withall when the said old man cried out in this maner,

the king surprised still with his humor of curiositie, notwithstanding he was vexed at the verie heart, answered,

So bitter-sweet is that itching-smart humor of curiositie, like unto an ulcer or sore, which the more it is rubbed and scratched, the more it bleedeth and bloodieth it selfe. Howbeit he that is delivered from this disease and besides of nature milde and gentle, so long as he is ignorant and knoweth not any evill accident, may thus say,

And therefore we must by little and little accustome our selves to this, that when there be anie letters brought unto us, we do not open them presently and in great haste, as many do, who if their hands be not quicke enough to doe the feat, set their teeth to, and gnaw in sunder the threds that sewed them up fast. Also if there be a messenger comming toward us from a place with any tidings, that we run not to meere him, nor so much as once rise and stir for the matter; and if a friend come unto thee saying, I have some newes to tell you of: yea mary (must you say againe) but I had rather that you brought me something indeed that were profitable, fruit­full and commodious. I remember upon a time when I declaimed and read a lecture at Rome, that Oratour Rustius whom afterwards Domitian put to death for envie that he bare to his glory, 20 hapned to be there to heare me: Now in the mids of my lecture there came into the place a Soldiour with letters from the Emperour, which he delivered to Rustius aforesaid, whereupon there was great silence in the schoole, and I my selfe made some pause, whiles he might reade the letter, but he would not reade it then, nor so much as breake it open before I had made an end of my discourse, and dismissed the auditory: for which all the company there present, high­ly praised and admired the gravitie of the man. Now if one do feed and nourish all that he can, (be it but in lawfull and allow able things) this veine and humor of curiositie, so as thereby it be­commeth in the end mighty and violent, it will not be an easie matter to restraine and hold it in when it shall breake out & run on end to such things as be unlawful & forbidden, by reason that it is so used already to intermeddle & be doing. But such men as these, breake open and unseale 30 letters (as I said) intrude themselves into the secret counsels of their friends; they will needs discover and see those sacred mysteries, which it is not lawfull for to see; in place whereunto there is no lawfull accesse they love to be walking; enquire they do into the secret deeds and words of kings and princes; and notwithstanding there be nothing in the world that causeth tyrants, who must of necessitie know all, so odious as this kinde of people, who be called their cares; (promoters I meane, and spies) who heare all and bring all unto their eares. The first that ever had about him these Otaconstes (as a man would say, Princes eares) was Dartus the yoonger; a ptince distrusting himselfe, suspecting also and fearing all men. As for those which were called Prosagogidae, that is to say, Courries, Spies, and Enformers, the Dionysil, tyrants of Sicilie, intermingled such among the Syracusians; wherupon, when the State was altered, those 40 were the first that the Syracusians apprehended and massacred. Also those whom we call Sy­cophants, are of the confraternitie, house and linage of these curious persons, save onely this difference there is, that Sycophants enquire what evill any man hath either disseigned or com­mitted; whereas our Polypragmons hearken after and discover the very calamities and misad­ventures of their neighbours, which happen even against their will and purpose: and when they have so done, set them abroad to the view of the whole world. Furthermore, it is said, that the name Aliterius came up first by occasion of this over-much medling, called Curiosity. For when there was (by all likelihood) a great famine at Athens they that had corne, kept it in and would not bring it abroad to the market, but privily & in the night, ground the same into meale within their houses: Now these fellowes, named Aliterij, would go up and downe closely hear­kening 50 where the querne or mill went, and thereupon tooke the said name. Semblably, as it is reported, the name of Sycophants arose upon the like occasion: for when there was a law made, forbidding that any figges should be carried foorth out of the land, such promoters as bewraied the delinquents, and gave information against those that conveied figges away, were also there­upon called Sycophants. To conclude therefore, it were not unprofitable for these curious Po­lypragmons (of whom we haue discoursed all this while) to know thus much; That they might [Page 144] be ashamed in themselves to be noted for maners and profession to be like unto those who are accounted the most odious and hatefull persons in the world.

OF THE TRANQVILLITY AND contentment of minde.

PLUTARCH to PACCIUS sendeth greeting:

OVerlate it was before I received your letter, wherein you requested me to write somwhat as touching the Tranquillity of the Soule, and withall of certaine places in Platoes Dialogue Timaeus, which seeme 10 to require more exact exposition: but so it happened, that at the very same time, your friend and mine Eros, had occasion to saile with speed to Rome, upon the receit of certeine letters from that right worshipfull gentleman Fundanus, by vertue whereof he was to depart suddenly and to repaire unto him with all expedition. By which occasion having not sufficient time and leasure to performe your request in such maner as I purposed, & yetunwilling that the man coming from me, should be seene of you emptie-handed; I have collected certaine notes, chosen out of those commentaries, which for mine owne memorie & private use I had compi­led long before, concerning this argument, to wit, The Tranquillity & contentment of spirit: 20 supposing that you also demaund this present discourse, not for any pleasure that you take to read a treatise penned curiously, and affecting or hunting after fine phrases and exquisite words; but onely in regard of some doctrine that may serve your turne and helpe you to the framing of your life as you ought; knowing withall full well (for the which I doe congratulate and re­joice heartily on your behalfe) that notwithstanding your inward acquaintance, friendship and favor with the best and principall persons of the citie, and that for eloquence you come behind none that plead causes at the bar in open court, but are reputed a singular Oratour, yet for all that, you do not as that Tragicall Merops, suffer your selfe foolishly and beyond the course of nature to be carried away as he was with the vaine-glorie and applause of the multitude, when they do admire and account you happie therefore; but still you keepe in memorie that which 30 oftentime you have heard from us; That it is neither a rich Patritians shooe that cureth the gout in the feet; nor a costly and pretious ring that healeth the whitflaw or felon in the fingers; nor yet a princely diademe that easeth the head-ach. For what use is there at all of goods and ri­ches to deliver the soule from griefe and sorrow, or to lead a life in rest and repose without cares and troubles? What good is there of great honors, promotions, and credit in court? unlesse they that have them know how to use the same well and honestly; and likewise if they be with­out them, can skill how to finde no misse of them, but be alwaies accompanied with content­ment; never coveting that which is not? And what is this else but reason accustomed and exer­cised before hand, quickly to restreine and eftsoones to reprehend the passionate and unreaso­nable part of the soule, which is given oftentimes to breake out of her bounds: and not to suffer 40 her to range and vague at her pleasure, and to be transported by the objects presented unto her? Like as therfore Xenophon giveth us good counsell: Alwaies to remember the gods, and most of all to worship and honor them when we are in prosperitie, to the end that whensoever we stand in neede, we may more boldly invocate and call upon them, with full assurance that they will supply our necessities, being thus before-hand made propitious and gratious unto us; even so, wisemen and such as are of good conceit, ought alwaies to be furnished and well provided of reasons sufficient to serve their turne for to encounter their passions before they arise, to the end that being once laide up in store, they may doe most good when time serveth. For as curst and angrie mastives by nature, which at every noise that they heare keepe an eager baying and barking as if they were affrighted, become quiet and appeased by one onely voice which is fa­miliar 50 unto them, and wherewith they have beene acquainted; so it is no small paine and trou­ble to still and compose the passions of the minde (shittish as they be and growne wilde) unlesse a man have ready at hand proper and familiar reasons to represse the same so soone as ever they begin to stir and grow out of order.

Now as touching those who affirme that if a man would live in tranquillity and rest, he ought not to meddle nor deale in many affaires, either in publike or private: First and formost thus I say, that they would make us pay deere for tranquillitie of minde, when they would have us buy [...] [Page 148] when he was bidden to stand up, but cavilled with him after a mocking and jesting maner, what (quoth he) and if you sold a fish would you bid it rise up? Likewise Socrates discoursed familiar­ly with his fellowes and followers as touching Philosophie, even when he was in prison. Wher­as Phaethon, notwithstanding he was mounted up into heaven, wept for anger and despight that no man would give him the rule and regiment of the charriot-steeds belonging to the sunne his father. And as a shoe is wrested and turned according to the fashion of a crooked or splay-foot, but never doth the foot writhe to the forme of a shoe; even so it is for all the world with the dis­positions of mens minds; they frame their lives and make them like thereto. For it is not use and custome that causeth the best life to be pleasant also unto them that have made choise thereof, as some one haply is of opinion; but wisedome rather and discretion maketh that life 10 which is best to be also sweetest and most pleasant. Since that therefore the source and foun­taine of all tranquillitie and contenment of spirit is in our selves, let us cleanse and purifie the same spring, as cleane as possibly we can, that all outward and casuall occurrences whatsoever, may be made familiar and agreeable unto us, knowing once how to use them well.

Plato therefore compared our life to a game at Tables; wherein the plaier is to wish for the luckiest cast of the dice, but whatsoever his chance is, he must be sure to play it well, and make 20 the best of it: Now of these two points, the former, to wit, a good throw, is not in our power and choise; but the other resteth in us, namely, whatsoever our lot is, to take in good woorth, and to dispose every thing in that place where it may profit most if it fortuned well: and contra­and contrariwise, if it fell out crosse, where it may doe least harme. This (I say) is our part and duety to performe, if we be as wise as we should be. As for brain-sicke fooles, and such as know not how to carrie themselves in this life (like unto those that have crasie and diseased bodies, who neither can abide burning heat nor chilling colde) as in prosperity they spread and set up their sailes too high, so in adversitie they strike them as low. Troubled they are mightily with both extremities; or to speake more truely, with themselves, as much in the one as the other, and no lesse in that state which yeeldeth those things that we call and repute Goods. Theodorus 30 that infamous Philosopher, who for his profane opinion was surnamed Atheos, that is to say, The Atheist, was woont to say: That he delivered his speeches with the right hand to his audi­tours and scholars, but they tooke the same with their left; even so ignorant and untaught per­sons many times when fortune presenteth herselfe unto them on the right hand, receive her awkly, turning to the left side undecently, and by that meanes commit many untoward & lewd parts. But those that be wise doe farre better: for as Thyme yeeldeth unto Bees the quickest and driest hony; even so they out of the most unfortunate accidents that be, can skill often-times to get somewhat which is agreeable and commodious unto themselves. This is then the first and principall point, wherein a man ought to be trained and exercised, upon this must he study and meditate. And like as that fellow, when he flung a stone at a curst bitch, missed her, and chan­ced 40 to hit his step-mother, saying withall: It makes no matter; for it hath not light amisse; even so we, may turne all our fortune to our owne purpose, and make the best use of it, in case things fall out otherwise than we would or meant. Diogenes his hap was to be banished and driven out of his owne countrey; yet this exile of his prooved not ill to him; for by that meanes and there­upon he beganne to studie and professe Philosophie. Zeno the Cittiaean had but one frigat or flie-boat left him, and hearing newes that both it and all therein was cast away, drowned and pe­rished in the mids of the sea: ô Fortune (quoth he) thou hast done well, to drive us againe to put on our poore and simple scholars habit, and to send us to our gallerie and schoole of Philo­sophie. What should hinder us then, but that we may follow the examples of these men. Art thou deprived and put out of some publike office or magistracie which thou didst exercise? Go 50 and live in the countrey; there follow thine owne businesse, and plie thy private affaires. Hast thou made sute and great meanes to be entertained in the Court, and to winde into speciallfa­vour with some Prince and Potentate, and after all thy travell suffered repulse? Well, thou shalt live privately at home, without danger, without trouble. Againe, Art thou entred into action, and doest thou manage State affaires, wherein thou hast cares enough, and no time to breathe thy selfe?

as Pindarus saith very well: Art thou in some disgrace, and cast out of favour with reproch, by reason of some slanderous calumniation or envie? Thou hast a gale of fore-wind at the poope, which will soone bring thee directly to the Muses and to the Academie; that is to say, to follow 10 thy booke, and study Philosophie: for this was Platoes helpe, when he was in disfavour with De­nys the tyrant. And therefore one meanes this is (of no small importance) to worke content­ment in a mans mind; namely, to looke backe unto the state of famous and renowmed persons, and to see whether they (haply) have not suffered the like at any time; as for example: Art thou discontented with thy childlesse estate, for that thy wife hath brought thee no children? Doe but marke the Kings of Rome, how there was not one of them that left the crown unto his sonne. Is it povertie that pincheth thee, so as thou art not able to endure it? Tell mee which of all the Boeotians wouldest thou chuse to resemble, sooner than Epaminondas? or what Romane woul­dest thou be like unto, rather than Pabricius? But say thy wife hath plaied false by thee, and made thee weare hornes? Didst thou never reade that Epigram of King Agis at Delphos? 20

And yet as mightie a Prince as he was, you have heard (I am sure) that Alcibiades lay with his wife Tunaea, and she would not bash to call the sonne that she had by him in adulterie, Alcibia­des, especially amongst her women & waiting-maidens, whispering and speaking as much softly unto them: But what of all that? This crooked crosse was no bar unto K. Agis, but that he proo­ved the greatest and most renowmed personage of all the Greeks in his time. No more was it any hinderance to Stilpo, but that he lived all the daies of his life most merrily, and no Philoso­pher like to him in those daies, notwithstanding he had a daughter that plaied the harlot: and 30 when Metrocles the Cynick reproched him therewith; Is this (quoth he) my fault or hers? To which when Metrocles answered againe: The fault is indeed hers, but the infortunity and mis­hap is yours: What now, (replied Stilpo again) how can that be? Are not (I pray you) all faults rightly named Slips or falles? Yes truely, said the other: And are not falles (quoth Stilpo) mis­chances or misfortunes? Metrocles could not denie it: Why then (inferred Stilpo at last) what are mischances or misfortunes, other than infortunities and mishaps to them whose mischan­ces they are. By this milde kinde of Sorites and Philosophicall reasoning thus from point to point, he shewed that the reprochfull language of this Cynicall Metrocles, was nothing els, but a vaine and foolish baying and barking of a cur-dogge. But on the contrary side, the most part of men are provoked and troubled not onely for the vices of their friends, familiars, and kins­folke, 40 but also of their very enimies. For reprochfull taunts, anger, envie, malice, and spightful jealousies, are the mischiefes and plagues (I must needs say) of such especially that have them; howbeit they molest and vexe those also that are witlesse and without discretion, no otherwise than the hasty and cholericke fits of our neighbors, the peevish and froward dispositions of our familiar acquaintance, and some shrewd demeanors of our servants in that they go about: with which me thinks you also troubling and disquieting your selfe as much as with any thing else, like unto those Physicians of whom Sophocles thus writeth;

do unseemely and not iwis for the credite of your person, thus to chafe and fret at their passions 50 and imperfections beyond all reason, and shew your selfe as passionate as they. For surely the affaires and negotiations wherewith you are put in trust, and which be managed by your direc­tion, are not executed ordinarily by the ministerie of such persons whose dealings be plaine, simple and direct, as instruments most meet and fit for such a purpose; but for the most part by crooked, rough, and crabbed pieces. To reforme and amend these enormities, I would not have you thinke that it is either your worke and dutie, or an enterprise otherwise easily performed. But if you making use of these, being such by nature as the Chirurgians do of tooth-drawing [Page 150] pincers, and those instruments wherewith they doe bring the edges of a wound together; will shew you selfe milde, moderate, and tractable in every respect, according as the present occa­sion will give leave; surely you shall not receive so much discontentment and displeasure at the untoward and unhappie dealings of others, as joy in the conscience of your owne good disposition, as making this account, that such ministers of yours do but their kind, like as dogs when they barke: But if you feed and cherish this pusillanimitie and weaknesse of yours, as other follies, you shall be sure to heape up many troubles and follies of other men ere you be aware, which will be ready to fall and run as into some low ground and hollow trench, unto that weake­nesse of yours. For what should I say, that some Philosophers reproove the pittie and commi­seration which we have for them that are in distresse & miserie, acknowledging that it is a good 10 and charitable deed to helpe and succour such as be in calamitie, but not commending that condolence and fellow-feeling with our neighbours, as if we yeelded with them unto Fortune? And more than so, the same Philosophers will not permit and give us leave, in case we be sub­ject to some vice and ill disposed, for to be seene and knowen for to grieve and sorrow there­fore: but rather to correct and amend what is amisse, without any shew at all of sad cheere and heavinesse; which being so, consider then how little reason and small cause we have, nay how absurd it were, that we should suffer our selves to be troubled, vexed and angry, in case all those who commerce and converse with us, deale not so well and kindly as they should? But above all things my good friend Paccius, let us see to this, that our selfe love deceive and seduce us not; let us beware (I say) that we do not so much shew an hatred and detestation of wicked­nesse 20 and sinne in generall; as bewray some private and particular regard of our owne, in that we seeme so to abhorre and dread the naughtinesse of those that have to do with us. For to be exceeding much mooved and beyond all measure affectionate at some time to such and such affaires; to covet (I say) and pursue the same over-hotly, and otherwise than is meete and besee­ming; or contrariwise, to loth, despise, and abhor the same, must needs breed discontentments, suspitions, and offences in those persons by whom we seeme either to have beene prevented & disappointed of some things, or to have runne and fallen too soone upon other: But he that is used to carie himselfe cheerefully and with moderation in his affaires, (fall out as they will) and can frame to their events, he will soone learne to negotiate and converse with any man in all dexteritie and gentle behaviour. Well then, let us set in hand againe to discourse of those mat­ters 30 which we have intermitted for a while: for like as in a feaver all things that we taste seeme at the first bitter and unsavorie; but when we see others take without any shew and signification of dislike the same which we spit out, then we blame no more either meats or drinks, but lay the fault upon our disease; even so, when we perceive that other men have entred upon and gone through the same affaires with great alacritie, and without any paine at all, whereof we com­plained and made much adoe; let us for shame cease to find fault and bee offended so much at the things. And therefore if at any time there shall befall unto us some adverse and crooked ac­cident against our wils, it will be very good for the working of our contentment in minde, not to passe over but to regard such things as at other times have hapned to our minds and as we could wish them; but to conferre them together, and by a good medly of them both to darken 40 and dor the worst with laying the better to. But now, whereas we are wont when our eies be daz­zeled and offended with beholding that which is too bright & glittering, we refresh & comfort our sight againe with looking upon pleasant colours of flowers, and greene grasse; herein con­trariwise wee direct our mindes and cogitations upon heavie and dolorous objects, and vio­lently force our thoughts to be amuzed upon the remembrance of calamities and adverse for­tunes, plucking them perforce as it were from the consideration of better. And heere in this place me thinks I may very fitly applie that sentence to our present purpose, which was said to a busie and curious person,

Even so good sir, How is it that you regard and advise so wistly your owne miserie and cala­mitie, making it alwaies apparent and fresh in remembrance, but upon your present prosperi­tie you set not minde? And like as ventoses, cupping glasses or boxes draw the must corrupt humors to them out of the flesh; even so you gather against your selfe the worst things you have, being no better than the merchant of Chios, who when he sold to others a great quantity of [Page 151] the best wine, sought up and downe tasting every vessell untill he met with that for his owne dinner, which began to sowre and was little better than starke naught. This man had a servant who ranne away, and being demaunded what his man had done unto him, for which hee should shew him a paire of heeles? Because (quoth hee) when hee had plentie of that which was good, he would needes secke for naught. And most men verily are of the same nature, who passing by good and desireable things, which be (as a man would say) the plea­sant and potable liquors that they have, betake themselves to those that bee harsh, bad, and unsavourie. But Aristippus was of another humour; for like a wise man and one that knew his owne good, hee was alwaies disposed to make the best of everie occurrence, rai­sing and lifting up himselfe to that end of the ballance which mounted aloft, and not to 10 that which went downeward. It fortuned one day that he lost a faire mannor or Lordship of his owne, and when one of his friends above the rest made most semblance to lament with him, and to be angrie with Fortune in his behalfe; Heare you (quoth he) know you not that your selfe have but one little farme in the whole world, and that I have yet three houses more left, with good lands lying to them? Yes marie do I (quoth the other:) Why then (quoth A­ristippus againe) wherefore doe not we rather pittie your case, and condole with you? For it is meere madnesse to grieve and sorrow for those things that are lost and gone, and not to rejoice for that which is saved. And like as little children, if a man chance to take from them but one of their gauds, among many other toies that they play withall, throw away the rest for verie curst­heart, and then fall a puling, weeping and crying out aright; semblably, as much folly and chil­dishnesse 20 it were, if when fortune thwarteth us in one thing, we be so farre out of the way and dis­quieted therewith, that with our plaints and moanes we make all her other favours unprofitable unto us. But wil some one say, What is it that we have? Nay, What is it that we have not? might he rather say: One man is in honour, another hath a faire and goodly house; one hath a wife to his minde, and another a trustie friend.

Antipater of Tarsus the Philosopher, when he drew toward his end and the houre of his death, in recounting and reckoning up all the good and happie daies that ever he saw in his life time, left not out of this roll so much as the Bon-voiage that he had when he sailed from Cilicia to Athens. And yet we must not forget nor omit those blessings and comforts of this life which we enjoy in common with many more, but to make some reckoning & account of them: 30 and namely to joy in this, that we live; that we have our health; that we behold the light of the sunne; that we have neither warre abroad nor civill sedition and dissension at home; but that the land yeeldeth it selfe arable and to be tilled, and the sea navigable to everie one that will, without feare of danger; that it is lawful for us to speake, and keepe silence at our pleasure; that we have libertie to negotiate and deale in affaires, or to rest and be at our repose. And verily the enjoying of these good things present, will breed the greater contentment in our spirit, if wee would but imagine within our selves that were absent; namely, by calling to minde eftsoones, what a misse and desire those persons have of health, who bee sicke and diseased? How they wish for peace, who are afflicted with warres? How acceptable it is either to a stranger or a meane person and unknowen, for to bee advaunced unto honour, or to bee friended in 40 some famous and puissant citie? And contrariwise, what a great griefe it is to forgoe these things when a man once hath them? And surely a thing can not bee great or precious when we have lost it, and the same of no valour and account all the while wee have and enjoy it: for the not being thereof, addeth no price and woorth thereto. Neither ought wee to holde these things right great and excellent, whiles wee stand alwaies in feare and trembling to thinke that we shall be deprived and bereft of them, as if they were some woorthie things: and yet all the time that they be sure and safe in our possession, neglect and little regard them as if they were common and of no importance. But we ought to make use of them whiles they be ours, and that with joy, in this respect especially, that the loosse of them if it shall so fall out, wee may beare more meekly and with greater patience. Howbeit, most men are of this opinion (as 50 Arcesilaus was woont to say) that they ought to follow diligently with their eie and cogitation the Poemes, Pictures, and Statues of others, and come close unto them for to behold and per­use exactly each of them; yea, and consider everie part and point therein from one ende to the other: whiles in the meane time they neglect and let alone their owne lives and manners; not­withstanding there be many unpleasant sights to be spied and observed therein: looking ever­more without, and admiring the advancements, welfare and fortunes of others: much like as adulterers who have an eie after their neighbours wives, but loath and set naught by their owne. [Page 152] And verily this one point also is of great consequence, for the setling of a mans minde in sure repose; namely, to consider principally himselfe, his owne estate and condition; or at least wise (if he do not so) yet to looke backe unto those that be his inferiours and under him; and not as the most sort do, who love alwaies to looke forward and to compare themselves with their bet­ters and superiors. As for example, slaves that are bound in prison and lie in irons, repute them happy who are abroad at libertie; such as be abroad and at libertie, thinke their state blessed who be manumised and made free; being once a franchised, they account themselves to be in verie good case if they were citizens; and being citizens they esteeme rich men most happie; the rich imagine it a gay matter to be Lords and Princes; Lords and Princes have a longing desire to be Kings and Monarchs; Kings and Monarchs aspire still higher and would be Gods; and 10 yet they rest not so, unlesse they may have the power to flash lightnings and shoot thunder­bolts, aswell as Jupiter. Thus whiles they evermore come short of that which is above them and covet still after it, they enjoy no pleasure at all of those things that they have, nor be thankfull therefore.

A Thrasian he was that protested thus. But some other, that were a Chian, a Galatian or a Bithy­nian (I dare warrant you) not contenting himselfe with his part of honor, credit & authoritie in his owne countrie and among his neighbours and fellow-citizens, would be ready to weepe and expostulate the matter with teares, if he might not also weare the habite and ornaments of a pa­tritian or Senatour of Rome. And say it were graunted and allowed him to be a noble Senatour, he would not be quiet untill he were a Romaine Lord Praetor: Be he Lord Praetor, he will aspire to a Consulship; and when he is created Consull, whine he will and crie if he were not nomina­ted and pronounced the former of the twaine, but elected in the second place. And I pray you 30 what is all this? What doeth a man herein but gather pretended excuses of ingratitude to Fortune, in punishing and chastising himselfe after this manner? But the man who is wise and of sound judgement, in case some one or two among so infinite thousands of us mortall men

be either more honoured or richer than himselfe, will not therefore be cast downe straight way, and sit mourning and lamenting for sorrow: but rather in the way as he goeth, and whensoever he commeth abroad, salute & blesse with praise and thanksgiving, that good fortune of his and blessed angell that guideth his life, for that his lot is to live farre better, more at hearts ease, and 40 in greater reputation than many millions of millions of other men. For true it is, that in the solemne games at Olympia, no champion may choose his concurrents with whom he is to wrestle or enter into combat for a prize: but in this life, our state standeth so, and our affaires bee in that manner composed, that everie man hath meanes to match, yea and excell many others, and so to beare himselfe aloft, that he be rather envied than envious; unlesse haply he be such an one, as will presume to deale with Briareus or Hercules for the Mastrie. Well, when thou shalt behold some great Lord or honorable personage borne aloft in a litter upon mens shoul­ders, stand not wondring so much at him, but rather cast thine eies downe a litle lower, & looke upon the poore porters that carrie him. Againe, when thou shalt repute that great Monarch Xerxes a right happy man, for that he made a bridge of ships over the Streights of Hellespont; 50 consider with all, those painfull slaves who under the verie whip and for feare of scourging, dig­ged thorough the mountaine Atlas, and made passage that way for an arme of the sea; as also those miserable wretches, who had their eares cropt and their noses cut off, for that the foresaid bridge by a mightie tempest was injointed and broken; and therewith imagine with thy selfe what those seely soules might thinke, and how happie they would repute thy life and condition in comparison of their owne. Socrates upon a time when one of his familiar friends seemed to complaine and say: What a costly place is this? How deere are things sold in this citie? The [Page 153] wine of Chios will cost a pound; purple is sold for three, and a pinte of honie is held at five dragmes: Tooke him by the hand and led him to the Meale-hall. Loe (quoth he) you may buy here halfe a sextare of good meale for an half-penie. The market (God be thanked) is cheape: from thence he brought him into an Olie-cellar, and where they sold Olives: Here you shall have (quoth he) a measure called Chaenix, for two brasen dodkins (a good market beleeve me.) He tooke him then with him to the Brokers shops that sold clothes, where a man might buy a suite of apparell for ten dragmes. You see (quoth he) that the peni-woorths are reasonable, and things be bought and sold good cheape throughout the citie; even so we, when we shall heare other men say; Our state is but meane, we are exceeding bare, & our condition is passing base: For why? We can not come to be Consuls, we shall never be rulers & governors ofProvinces, 10 nor rise to the highest places of authoritie. We may verie well answere in this wise; Nay ma­rie, but our case is right good; we live gallantly, and lead a blessed and happie life: we beg not; we go not from doore to doore to crave folks almes; we are no porters; we beare no burdens; neither like parasites and smell-feasts, do we get our bread by flatterie. But forasmuch as we are for the most part growen to this folly, that we are accustomed to live rather according to others than our selves, and our nature is so far corrupted with a kinde of jealous affectation and envie, that it joyeth not so much in her owne proper goods, as grieveth at the welfare of another) I would advise you not onely to regard those things that be resplendent, glorious and renow­med in those whom you admire and esteeme so happie; but also to set open and lift up the vaile a little, and to draw (as it were) that glittering courtaine of outward shew, apparance and opini­on 20 that men have of them which covereth all, and so to looke in. Certes, you shall finde that they have within them many matters of trouble, many grievances and discontentments. That noble Pittacus, so famous for his valor and fortitude, and as much renowmed also for wisedome and justice, feasted upon a time certaine of his friends that were strangers: and his wife com­ming in at mids of the dinner, being angry at somewhat els, overthrew the table, and there lay all under foot. Now when his guests and friends were woonderously dismaied and abashed hereat: Pittacus made no more ado at the matter, but turning unto them. There is not one of us all (quoth he) but he hath his crosse, and one thing or other to exercise his patience: and for mine owne part this is the onely thing that checketh my felicitie: for were it not for this shrow my wife, I were the happiest man in the world: So that of me may these verses be well ve­rified: 30

Well my masters, you have many occasions (I am sure) that vexe you: as for my selfe I grieve at nothing. Many such secret sores there be that put them to anguish and paine who are rich and in high authoritie, yea and trouble Kings and Princes themselves; howsoever the common 40 people see no such matter; and why, their pompe and outward glorie covereth and hideth all. For when we read thus in Homer,

This is a rehearsall surely of an outward beatitude onely, in regard of his armes, horses, and men of war about him: for the voices which are breathed out and uttered from his passions, which do [...] that opinion of him, and beare witnesse of the contrarie: as may appeere by this testi­monie of himselfe in Homer, 50

[Page 154] By these and such like meditations, a man may by litle & litle spend & diminish that quarelsome and complaining discontentment of the minde against Fortune, in debasing and casting downe his owne condition with the wonderfull admiration of his neighbors state. But there is nothing that doth so much hurt unto our tranquillitie of minde as this, when our affection and will to a thing is disproportioned unto our might and power; as if we set up greater sailes then our vessel will beare, building our hopes and desires as castles in the aire without a sound foundation, and promising our selves more than reason is; for afterwards when by proofe we see, that we can­not reach thereto, and finde that the successe is not answerable to our conceit, we grumble by and by against fortune, and we blame our destinie; whereas we should accuse our owne sollie and rashnes. For neither he that would seeme to shoote an arrow out of a plough; or ride upon 10 an Oxe backe to hunt the Hare; can say that he is unluckie; nor hee that goeth about to catch the Hart and Hinde with fishers drag-nets, or with grins, snares and traps, may justly finde fault with his fortune, and give out that some wicked angel doth crosse him, or malignant spirit haunt him, if he faile and misse of his purpose: but surely such are to condemne their owne foolish­nesse and inconsiderate temeritie, in attempting things impossible. And what might be the cause of such errors and grosse oversight? surely our fond and blinde selfe-love. This is it that causeth men to affect ever to be foremost; this mooveth them to strive and contend for the highest place; this maketh them opinonative in every thing, aiming and reaching at all things unsatiably, and never rest contented. For it sufficeth them not to be both rich and learned; elo­quent withall and mightie; good fellowes at the table and pleasant companions; minions and 20 favorites of Kings and Princes; rulers of cities and governors of provinces; unlesse they may be masters also of the swiftest and hotest hounds for running; the principall horses for service and stomacke; quailes and cocks of the best game for fight; If they faile in any of these, they be cast downe, and their hearts are done. Denys the elder of that name, not being contented and sa­tisfied in minde that he was the most mighty and puissant tyrant in his time; but because hee was not a better Poet than Philoxenus; nor able to discourse and dispute so learnedly as Plato; in great choler and indignation, he cast the one into a dungeon within the Stone quarries, where malefactors, felons, and slaves were put to punishment; and confined the other as a caitife, and sent him away into the Isle Aegine. Alexander the great was not of that disposition, who when Brison the famous runner in the race contended with him for the best game in foot-man 30 ship, and for the nonce to please the King, seemed to faint and lag behinde, and so to yeeld the honour of the course unto him; being advertised thereof, was mightily offended and displea­sed with him for it. Very wisely therefore and aptly to this purpose the Poet Homer when he had given this commendation of Achilles,

He inferred presently upon it,

Megabyzus the Persian, a great lord, went up one day into the shop of Apelles, where he used to 40 paint; and when he was about to speake (I wot not what) as touching painting-craft, Apelles not enduring to heare him talke so foolishly, staied him and stopped his mouth, saying pretily thus unto him: So long sir as you held your tongue, you were taken to be some great man, by reason of your chaines, corquans, and brooches of gold; your purple robes also, which together with your silence commended your person: but now the very prentise boies here, who grinde oker and such like colours, are ready to laugh at you, hearing you talke so foolishly, you know not what. And yet some there be who thinke that the Stoicks do but mocke and jest when they heare them hold this opinion: That the wise man (such as they imagine to themselves) is not onely Prudent, Just and Valiant, but ought also to be called an Oratour, a Captaine and a Poet, a rich and mightie man, yea and a very King, whiles they themselves will needs be invested in 50 these titles, and if they be not, then they are displeased and miscontent by and by; what reason they have so to be let them answere. Sure I am that among the gods themselves, some have power one way, and some another; and thereupon tooke their sundry denominations accor­dingly, & rest contented therewith: as for example, one is, surnamed Eugalius, i. the god of war, another Mantous, i. the president of Prophesies; and a third Cerdous, which is as much to say, as the patron of those that gaine by trafficke. And heereupon it is that Iupiter in Homer for­bidding Venus to meddle in warlike and martiall affaires, as nothing pertinent unto her, sendeth [Page 155] her to weddings and bride-chambers, and bids her attend them. Moreover some qualities and things there be, that we seeme to affect and wish; the which are in nature contrary, and will not concur and sort well together: as for example, the profession of eloquence, and the studie of Arts Mathematicall require rest and quietnesse, neither have the students therein neede to be emploied in any affaires. Contrariwise, policie and managing of the State and weale publicke, the favors of princes and potentates, are not compassed without much adoo; neither can a man be idle at any time, who either is emploied in the service of his countrey, or atten­dant in the Court. Much feeding upon flesh and liberall drinking of wine, maketh (I must needs say) the bodie able and strong, but the minde feeble and weake. Likewise, the continuall and excessive care both in getting and keeping goods, may well augment riches and increase 10 our substance; but surely it is the contempt and despisement of worldly wealth, that is a great helpe and meanes to learning and Philosophy. And therefore wee may well conclude; that every man is not fitfor every thing: but heerein ech one must be ruled by the sage sentence of Pythius Apollo, and first learne, To know himselfe; then marke and observe to what one thing he is most framed and enclined; and thereto both apply and employ his wits, and not to offer violence to nature, and draw her perforce, as it were, against the haire, to this or that course of life, which she liketh not.

Now if there be one that shall bee angry with himselfe and displeased, that he is not at once both a savage lion of the forrest, bolde and venturous of his owne strength, and withall a daintie fine puppie of Malta, cherished and fostered in the lappe and bosome of some delicate dame and rich widdow; commend me to him for a senselesse foole of all fooles, and to say a sooth, I holde him also as very an asse and doltish fop, who will needs bee such an one as Empedocles, Plato and Democritus; namely, to write of the world, of the nature and true essence of all things therein, and withal, to keepe a rich olde trot and sleepe with her every night, as Euphorion did; or 30 els like unto those who kept company with Alexander the great, in drinking and gaming (as one Medius did) and yet thinke it a great abuse and indignity (forsooth) if he may not be as much admired for his wealth as Ismenias, and esteemed no lesse for his vertue than Epaminondas. We see that the runners in a race be not discontented at all, if they weare not the garlands and co­ronets of wrestlers, but rest pleased with their owne rewards, and therein delight and rejoice, It is an olde said saw, and a common proverbe: Sparta is thy lot and Province, looke well to it, and adorne the same. For it is a saying also of wise Solon;

Strato the naturall Philosopher, when he heard that Menedemus his Concurrent had many more scholars by far than he: What marvel is that (quoth he) if there more that desire to be wa­shed and bathed, than are willing to be anointed & rubbed. Aristotle writing to Antipater: It is not meet (quoth he) that Alexander alone should thinke highly of himselfe, in that he is able to command so many men; but they also have good cause to be aswell conceited of themselves, who have the grace to beleeve of the gods as they ought. For surely, they that thus can make the best use of their owne estate, shall never be vexed, nor at their neighbours wel-fare pine away for very envie. Which of us now doeth require or thinke it fit, that the vine-tree should beare figges, or the olive grapes? and yet we our selves, if we may not have all at once, to wit, the supe­riority 50 and preeminence among rich men, among eloquent orators and learned clearks, both at home and abroad, in the schooles among Philosophers, in the field among warriors; aswell among flattering claw-backs as plaine spoken and tel-troth friends: to conclude, unlesse we may goe before all pinching peny-fathers in frugalitie; yea, and surpasse all spend-thrifts in riot and prodigallity; we are out of our little wits; we accuse our selves daily like sycophants; we are un­thankeful; we repine and grumble as if we lived in penury and want. Over and besides, do we not see that Nature herselfe doeth teach us sufficiently in this point? For like as she hath provided [Page 156] for sundry kinds of bruit and wilde beasts, divers sorts of food: for all feed not upon flesh, all pecke not upon seeds and graines of plants, neither doe all live upon roots which they worke from under the ground; even so she hath bestowed upon mankinde many meanes to get their living, while some live by graffing and feeding of cattell, others by tillage, some be Fowlers, o­thers Fishers: and therefore ought every man to chuse that course of life which sorteth best with his owne nature, and wholly to apply and set his minde thereto; leaving unto others that which pertaineth to them, and not to reprove and convince Hesiodus when he thus speaketh, al­though not to the full and sufficiently to the point:

For jealous we are not onely of those who exercise the same art, and follow that course of life which we do; but the rich also do envie the learned and eloquent; noble men the rich; advocates and lawiers, captious and litigious sophisters; yea, and (that which more is) gentlemen free­borne, and descended from noble and auncient houses, envie Comedians when they have acted well and with a good grace upon the stage in great Theaters; dauncers also and jesters in the court, whom they see to be in favor and credite with Kings and Princes; and whiles they do admire these, and thinke them happie for their good speed and successe in comparison of their owne doings, they fret and grieve, and out of measure torment themselves. Now, that everie one of us hath within himselfe treasuries laid up of contentment and discontentment, and cer­teine tunnes of good things and evil; not bestowed as Homer said: Unto the doore-sill and en­trie 20 of Jupiters house; but placed in each of our owne mindes, the divers passions whereunto we are subject do sufficiently proove and shew. For such as are foolish and unadvised, doe neg­lect and let go the very good things that presently they have, and never care to enjoy them, so intentive and earnestly bent are their mindes and spirits alwaies to that which is comming, and future expectation: whereas wise men on the contrary side, call to their fresh remembrance those things that are past, so as they seeme to enjoy the same as if they were present, yea and in make that which is no more, to be as beneficiall unto them, as if they were ready and at hand. For surely that which is present, yeelding it selfe to be touched by us but the least moment of time that is, & immediately passing our senses, seemeth unto fooles to be none of ours, nor any more to concerne us. But like as the Roper which is painted in the tēple of Pluto, or description 30 of Hell, suffereth an asse behind him to gnaw & eate a rope as fast as he twisteth it of the Spart­broome; even so the unthankfull and senselesse oblivion of many ready to catch and devoure al good things as they passe by, yea and to dissipate and cause to vanish away every honest and no­table action, all vertuous deeds, duties, delectable recreations and pleasant pastimes, all good fellowship and mutuall societie, and all amiable conversation one with another, will not permit, that the life be one and the same, linked (as it were) and cheined by the coppulation of things passed and present; but deviding yesterday from to day, and this day from the morrow, as if they were sundry parts of our life, bringeth in such a forgetfulnesse, as if things once past had never beene. As for those verily who in their disputations and Philosophicall discourses admit no augmentation of bodies, affirming that every substance continually fadeth and vanisheth, would 40 make us beleeve in word, that each one of us every howre altereth from himselfe, and no man is the same to day, that he was yesterday: but these for fault of memorie not able to reteine and keepe those things that are done and past, no nor to apprehend and eftsoones call them againe to minde, but suffer every thing to passe away and runne as it were through a sieve, doe not in word but in deed and effect, make themselves voide and emptie every day more than other, de­pending onely upon the morrow, as if those things which were done the yeere past, of late, and yesterday, nothing appertained unto them, nor ever were at all. This is therefore one thing that hindreth & troubleth that equanimity & repose of spirit which we seeke for: & yet there is ano­ther that doth it more; and that is this; Like as flies creeping upon the smooth places of glasses or mirrors, cannot hold their feet but must needs fal down, but cōtrariwise they take hold where 50 they meet with any roughnes, & stick fast to rugged flawes, that they can find; even so these men gliding & glansing over al delectable & pleasant occurrences, take hold of any adverse & heavy calamities, those they cleave unto & remember very wel; or rather as (by report) there is about the city Olynthus a certain place, into which if any flies called Beetles enter in once, they can not get forth againe, but after they have kept a turning about, and fetching compasses round to no purpose a long time, they die in the end, wherupon it tooke the name of Cantharolethron; sem­blably, men after they fal to the reckoning up & commemoration of their harmes & calamities [Page 157] past, are not willing to retire backe, not to breath themselves and give over multiplying there­upon still. And yet contrariwise, they ought to do after the maner of Painters, who when they paint a table to lay upon the ground, or by a course of dead and duskish colours such as be fresh, gay and gallant, for to palliat & in some sort to hide the unpleasantnes of the other, they ought (I say) to smother and keepe downe the heavinesse of the heart occasioned by some crosse mishaps, with those that have fallen out of their minde, for to obliterate and wipe them out of their minde quite, and to be freed cleane from them it is not possible: and surely the harmonie of this world is reciprocall and variable, compounded (as it were) of contraries, like as we do see in an harpe or bow; neither is any earthly thing under the cope of heaven, pure, simple, and sincere without mixture. But as Musicke doth consist of base and treble sounds; and Grammar 10 of letters, which be partly vocall, & partly mute, to wit, vowels and consants, and he is not to be counted a Grammarian and Musician, who is offended and displeased with either of those con­trarie elements of the arte, but he that affecteth the one as well as the other, and knoweth how to use and mixe both together with skil for to serve his purpose; even so considering that in the occurrences of mans life there be so many contrarieties, and one weigheth against another in maner of counterpoise; for (according to Eurypides)

It is not meet that we should let our hearts fall and be discouraged with the one sort whensoever it hapneth, but we ought according to the rules of harmonie in Musicke, to stop the point alwaies of the woorst, with strokes of better, and by overcasting misfortunes (as it were) with a vaile and curtaine of good haps, or by setting one to the other, to make a good composition and a pleasant accord in our life, fitting and sorting our owne turnes. For it is not as Menander said,

but rather according to Empedocles: No sooner are we come into the world, but each one of us hath two angels, called Daemones: two Destinies (I say) are allotted unto us, for to take the charge and government of our life, unto which he attributeth divers and sundry names,

Insomuch, as our Nativitie receiving the seeds of each of all these passions blended and confu­sed together, and by reason thereof the course of our life not being uniforme, but full of disor­dered and unequall dispositions, a man of good and sound judgement ought to wish and desire at Gods hand the better, to expect and looke for the woorse, and to make an use of them both, namely by abridging and cutting off thatwhich is excessive and too much: For not he onely (as Epicurus was woont to say) shall come with most delight and pleasure to see the morrow-sunne, who made least account thereof on the eeven; but riches also, glorie, authoritie and rule doth most rejoice their hearts who least feared the contrarie: for the vehement and ardent desire that a man hath to any of these things, doth imprint likewise an exceeding feare of forgoing and 50 loosing the same, and thereby maketh the delight of enjoying them to be feeble and nothing firme and constant; even as the blase and flame of the fire which is blowen and driven to and fro with the wind. But the man who is so much assisted with reason, that he is able without feare and trembling to say unto Fortune:

[Page 158] Or thus:

hath this benefit by his confidence and resolution: that as he taketh most joy of his good for­tunes when they are present; so he never feareth the losse of them, as if it were a calamitie insup­portable. And herein we may aswell imitate as admire the disposition and affection of Anaxa­goras, who when he heard the newes of his sons death I know full well (quoth he) when I begot him that die he must: and after his example, whensoever any infortunitie hapneth, to be readie with these & such like speeches: I know that riches were not permanent, but transitorie and for a day: I never thought other, but that they who conferred these dignities upon me both might 10 and could deprive me of them I wist: that I had a good wife and vertnous dame, but withall a woman and no more: I was not ignorant that my friend was a man (that is to say) a living crea­ture by nature mutable, as Plato used to say. And verily, such preparations and dispositions of our affections as these, if peradventure there shall befall unto us any thing against our intent and minde, but not contrarie to our expectation, as they will never admit such passionate words as these (I never thought it would have fallen out so, I was in great hope of other matters, and little looked I for this) so they shall be able to rid us of all sudden pantings and leapings of the hart, of unquiet & disorderly beating of the pulses, and soone stay and settle the furious & trou­blesome motions of impatience. Carneades was woont in time of greatest prosperitie to put men in minde of a change; for that the thing which hapneth contrarie to our hope and expec­tation, 20 is that which altogether and wholy doth breed sorrow and griefe. The kingdome of the Macedonians was not an handfull to the Romaine Empire and dominion; and yet king Per­seus when he had lost Macedonie, did not only himselfe lament his owne fortune most pitiously, but in the eies also of the whole world he was reputed a most unfortunate and miserable man. But behold Paulus Aemelius whose hap it was to vanquish the said Perseus, when he departed out of that Province, and made over into the hands of another his whole armie, with so great com­maund both of land and sea, was crowned with a chaplet of flowers, and so did sacrifice unto the gods with joy and thanks-giving in the judgement of all men, woorthily extolled and reputed as happie. For why? when he received first that high commission and mightie power withall, he knew full well, that he was to give it over and resigne it up when his time was expired; where as 30 Perseus on the contrarie side, lost that which he never made account to lose. Certes even the Poet Homer hath given us verie well to understand, how forcible that is, which hapneth besides hope and unlooked for, when he bringeth in Ulysses upon his returne, weeping for the death of his dog; but when he sate by his owne wife who shed teares plentifully, wept not at all; for that he had long before at his leasure against this comming home of his, prevented and brought in­to subjection (as it were) by the rule of reason, that passion which otherwise hee knew well e­nough would have broken out; whereas, looking for nothing lesse than the death of his dog, he fell suddenly into it, as having had no time before to represse the same. In summe, of all those accidents which light upon us contrarie to our will; some grieve and vexe us by the course and instinct of nature; other, (and those be the greater part) we are woont to be offended and dis­contented 40 with, upon a corrupt opinion and foolish custome that we have taken: and therefore we should do verie well, against such temptations as these, to be ready with that sentence of Me­nander:

And how (quoth he) can it concerne thee?

As for example, the base parentage and birth of thy father; the adulterie of thy wife; the losse or repulse of any honor, dignitie or preeminence: for what should let, notwithstanding all these 50 crosses, but that thy bodie and minde both may be in right good plight and excellent estate? And against those accidents which seeme naturally to grieve and trouble us, to wit, maladies, paines and travels; death of deere friends and toward children, we may oppose another saying of Euripides the Poët:

For no remonstrance nor reason is so effectuall to restraine and stay this passionate and sensu­all part of our mind. when it is readie to slip and be carried headlong away with our affections, as that which call [...] remembrance the common and naturall necessitie; by meanes whereof a man in [...] his bodie, being mixed and compounded, doth expose and offer this handle (as it were) [...] vantage whereby fortune is to take hold when she wrestleth against him; for otherwise, a the greatest and most principall things, he abideth fast and sure. King Demetrius having [...] and woon the citie Megara, demaunded of Stilpo the wise Philosopher, whether he [...] any goods in the sackage and pillage thereof? Sir (quoth he) I saw not so much as one man carrying any thing of mine away; semblably, when fortune hath made what spoile 10 nee can, and taken from us all other things, yet somewhat there remaineth still within our selves,

In which regard we ought altogether so to depresse, debase and throw downe our humaine na­ture, as if it had nothing firme, stable and permanent, nothing above the reach and power of for­tune: but contrariwise, knowing that it is the least and woorst part of man, and the same fraile, brittle, and subject to death, which maketh us to lie open unto fortune and her assaults; whereas in respect of the better part we are masters over her, and have her at command, when there be­ing seated and founded most surely the best and greatest things that we have, to wit, sound and 20 honest Opinions, Arts and Sciences, good discourses tending to vertue, which be all of a sub­stance incorruptible, and whereof we can not be robbed: we (I say) knowing thus much, ought in the confidence of our selves to cary a minde invincible and secure against whatsoever shall happen, & be able to say that to the face of Fortune, which Socrates addressing his speech indeed covertly to the Judges, seemed to speake against his two accusers, Anytus and Melitus: Well may Anytus and Melitus bring me to my death, but hurt or harme me they shall never be able. And even so Fortune hath power to bring a disease or sicknesse upon a man, his goods she can take away, raise she may a slander of him to tyrant, prince or people, and bring him out of grace and favour; but him that is vertuous, honest, valiant and magnanimous, she can not make wic­ked, dishonest, base-minded, malicious & envious: and in one word, she hath not power to take 30 from him a good habitude, setled upon wisdome and discretion, which wheresoever it is alwaies present, doth more good unto a man for to guide him how to live, than the pilot at sea for to di­rect a ship in her course; for surely the pilot, be he never so skilfull, knoweth not how to still the rough and surging billowes when he would, he can not allay the violence of a tempest, or bluste­ring winde, neither put into a safe harbor and haven, or gaine a commodious bay to anker in at all times and in every coast, would he never so faine, nor resolutely without feare and trembling when he is in a tempest, abide the danger and under-goe all; thus farre foorth onely his art ser­veth, so long as he is in no despaire, but that his skill may take place;

But the disposition and staied minde of a prudent man, over and besides that it bringeth the body into a quiet and calme estate, by dissipating and dispatching for the most part the occasi­ons and preparatives of diseases, and that by continent life, sober diet, moderate exercises, and travels in measure; if haply there chance some little beginning or indisposition to a passion, up­on which the minde is ready to runne it selfe, as a ship, upon some blinde rocke under the water, it can quickly turne about his nimble and light crosse-saile yard, as Asclepiades was woont to say, 50 and so avoid the danger.

But say there come upon us some great and extraordinary accident, such as neither we loo­ked for, nor be able by all the power we have, either to overcome or endure; the haven is neere at hand, we may swim safely thither out of the body, (as it were) out of a vessell that leaketh and taketh water, and will no longer holde a passenger: as for foolish [...] , it is the feare of death, and not the love of life that causeth them to cling and sticke so close to the body, hanging and [Page 160] clasping thereunto no otherwise than Ulysses to the wilde figge tree, why hee feared with great horror, the gulfe Charybdes roaring under him;

displeased infinitely in the one, and dreading fearefully the other. But he that some measure (be it never so little) knoweth the nature of the soule, and casteth this with himselfe: That by death there is a passage out of this life, either to a better state, or at least-wise not a woorse: certes he is furnished with no meane way-faring provision to bring him to the securit of mind in this life, I meane the fearelesse contempt of death: for he that may (so long as vertue [...] the better part of the soule (which indeed is proper unto man) is predominant) live pleasantly; [...] 10 when the contrary passions, which are enemies to nature, doeprevaile, depart resolutely [...] without feare, saying thus unto himselfe:

What can we imagine to happen unto a man of this resolution, that should encumber, trouble or terrifie him? for whosoever he was that said: I have prevented thee (ô Fortune) I have stop­ped up all thy avenewes, I have intercepted and choked all the waies of accesse and entry; surely he fortified himselfe, not with barres and barricadoes, not with locks and keies, ne yet with mures and walles, but with Philosophicall and sage lessons, with sententious sawes, and with discourses of reason, whereof all men that are willing, be capable. Neither ought a man to discredit the 20 trueth of these and such like things which are committed in writing, and give no beleefe unto them, but rather to admire, and with an affectionate ravishment of spirit embrace and imitate them; yea, and withall to make a triall and experiment of himselfe; first in smaller matters, pro­ceeding afterwards to greater, untill he reach unto the highest, and in no wise to shake off such medirations, nor to shift off and seeke to avoid the exercise of the minde in this kinde, and in so doing, he shall haply finde no such difficultie as he thinketh. For as the effeminate delicacy and nicenesse of our mind, amused alwaies and loving to be occupied in the most easie objects, and retiring eft-soones from the cogitation of those things that fall out crosse, unto such as tend un­to greatest pleasure, causeth it to be soft and tender, and imprinteth a certaine daintinesse not able to abide any exercise; so if the same minde would by custome learne and exercise it selfe in 30 apprehending the imagination of a maladie, of paine, travell, and of banishment, and enforce it selfe by reason to withstand and strive against ech of these accidents, it will be found and seene by experience, that such things which through an erronious opinion were thought painefull, grievous, hard and terrible, are for the most part but vaine in deed, deceitfull and contemptible: like as reason will shew the same if a man would consider them each one in particular. Howbeit the most part mightily feare and have in horror that verse of Menander,

as not knowing how materiall it is to the exempting and freeing of a man from all griefe and sorrow, to meditate before-hand, and to be able to looke open-eied full against fortune, and not 40 to make those apprehensions and imaginations in himselfe soft and effeminate, as if hee were fostered and nourished in the shadow, under many foolish hopes which ever yeeld to the con­trarie, and bee not able to resist so much as any one. But to come againe unto Menander, we have to answer unto him in this maner: True it is indeed, there is no man living able to say: This or this shal never happen unto me; howbeit, thus much may a man that is alive say and af­firme: So long as I live I will not do this, to wit, I will not lie; I will never be a cousiner, nor cir­cumvent any man; I will not defraud any one of his owne; neither will I fore-lay and surprise any man by a wile. This lieth in our power to promise and performe, and this is no small mat­ter, but a great meanes to procure tranquillitie and contentment of minde. Whereas contra­riwise, the remorse of conscience when as a man is privie to himselfe, and must needs confesse 50 and say: These and these wicked parts I have committed, festereth in the soule like an ulcer and fore in the flesh, and leaveth behind it repentance in the soule, which fretteth, galleth, gnaweth, and setteth it a bleeding fresh continually. For, whereas all other sorrowes, griefes, and an­guishes, reason doth take away; repentance onely it doth breed and engender, which together with shame biteth and punisheth it selfe; for like as they who quiver and shake in the feavers called Epioli; or contrariwise burne by occasion of other agues, are more afflicted and more at [Page 161] ease than those who suffer the same accidents by exterior causes, to wit, winters cold or summers heat; even so all mischances and casuall calamities, bring with them lighter dolors and paines as comming from without. But when a man is forced thus to confesse,

which is an ordinary speech of them who lamentably bewaile their sinnes from the bottome of their hearts, it causeth griefe and sorrow to be so much more heavy, and it is joyned with shame and infamie: whereupon it commeth to passe, that neither house richly and sinely furnished, nor heapes of gold and silver; no parentage or nobilitie of birth, no dignitie of estate and autho­ritie how high soever, no grace in speech; no force and power of eloquence; can yeeld unto a 10 mans life such a calme (as it were) and peaceable tranquillitie; as a soule and conscience cleere from wicked deeds, sinfull cogitations and leaud desseignes, which having the source & foun­taine of life (I meane the inward disposition of the heart) not troubled & polluted, but clere and clensed; from whence all good and laudable actions do flowe and proceed, and the same doe give a lively, cheerefull, and effectuall operation, even by some divine instinct and heavenly in­spiration, together with a bold courage and haughty minde, and withall yeeld the remembrance of a vertuous and well led life, more sweete, pleasant, firme and permanent, than is that hope whereof Pindarus writeth, the nurse and fostresse of old age: for we must not thinke, that (as Carneades was wont to say) the Or Rose­marie banks after they be cut downe and left vord, as some ex­pound. Censers or perfuming pannes wherin sweet incense is burned, reteine and render the pleasant odor along time after they be emptie, and that the vertuous 20 deeds of a wise and honest man, should not alwaies leave behinde them in the soule an amiable, delightful, and fresh remembrance thereof; by meanes whereof, that inward joy being watered, is ever greene, buddeth and flourisheth still, despising the shamefull errour of those who with their plaints, moanes, and wailings, diffame this life of ours; saying: It is a very hell and place of torments, or else a region of confined and exiled soules, into which they were sent away and ba­nished forth of heaven. And heere I cannot choose but highly commend that memorable say­ing of Diogenes, who seeing once a certeine stranger at Lacedaemon dressing and trimming him­selfe very curiously against a feastivall & high day: What meanes all this (quoth he) my good friend? to a good and honest man is not everie day in the yeere a feast and holy day? yes verily, and if we be wise we should thinke all daies double feasts, and most solemne gaudie-daies: for 30 surely this world is a right sacred and holy temple, yea and most divine, beseeming the majestie of God, into which man is inducted and admitted at his nativitie, not to gaze and looke at statues and images cut and made by mans hand, and such as have no motion of their owne, but to behold those works and creatures which that divine spirit and almightie power in woonder­full wisdome and providence hath made and shewed unto us sensible; and yet (as Plato saith) representing and resembling intelligible powers, from whence proceed the beginnings of life and mooving, namely the sunne, the moone, the starres; what should I speake of the rivers which continually send out fresh water still; and the earth which bringeth foorth nourishment for all living creatures, and yeeldeth nutriment likewise to every plant? Now if our life be the imitation of so facred mysteries, and (as it were) a profession & entrance into so holy a religion 40 of all othersmost perfect, we must needs esteeme it to be full of contentment & continuall joy: neither ought we (as the common multitude doth) attend & wait for the feasts of Saturne, Bac­chus, or Minerva, and such other high daies wherein they may solace themselves, make merrie and laugh, buying their mirth and joy for money, giving unto plaiers, jesters, dauncers, & such like their hire and reward for to make them laugh. In which feasts and solemnities, we use to sit with great contentment of minde, arraied decently according to our degree and calling, (for no man useth to mourne and lament, when he is professed in the mysteries of Ceres, and recei­ved into that confraternitie; no man sorroweth when he doth behold the goodly sights of the Pythian games; no man hungreth or fasteth during the Saturnals:) what an indignitie and shame is it then that in those feasts which God himselfe hath instituted, and wherein (as a man 50 would say) he leadeth the daunce, or is personally himselfe to give institution and induction, men should contamminate, pollute and profane as they do, dishonoring their life for the most part, with weeping, wailing, sighing and groning, or at the leastwise in deepe thoughts & pen­sive cares. But the greatest shame of all other is this; that we take pleasure to heare the organs and instruments of musicke sound pleasantly; we delight to heare birdes singing sweetly; we behold with right good will, beasts playing, sporting, dauncing, and skipping featly; and contrariwise wee are offended when they houle, roare, snarle, and gnash their teeth, as also [Page 162] when they shew a fierce, sterne, and hideous looke; and all this while seeing our owne lives heavie, sad, travailed and oppressed with most unpleasant passions, most intricate and inexpli­cable affaires, and overwhelmed with infinite and endlesse cares; yet we will not affoord our selves some rest and breathing time; nay (that which more is) we will not admit the speech and remonstrances of our friends and familiars, whom if we would give eare unto, we might with­out fault-finding receive the present, remember with joy and thanksgiving that which is past, and without distrust, suspition and feare, expect with joyfull and lightsome hope that which is to come. 10

OF UNSEEMELY AND naughtie bashfulnesse.

AMong those plants which the earth bringeth foorth, some there are which not onely by their owne nature bee wilde and savage, and withall bearing no fruit at all; but (that which woorse is) in their growth doe hurt unto good seeds and fruitfull plants: and yet skilful gardiners and husbandmen, judge them to be arguments 10 and signes, not of bad ground, but rather of a kinde and fat soile; semblaby the passions and affections of the minde, simply and in themselves are not good, howbeit they spring as buds and flowers from a towardly nature, and such as gently can yeeld it selfe to be wrought, framed, and brought into order by reason. In this kinde I may raunge that which the Greekes call [...] which is as much to say, as a foolish and rusti­call shamefastnes; no evill signe in it selfe, howbeit the cause and occasion of evill and naughti­nesse. For they that be given to bash and shame over-much and when they should not, com­mit many times the same faults that they doe, who are shamelesse and impudent: heere onely is the difference, that they, when they trespasse and do amisse, are displeased with themselves, and 20 grieve for the matter; where as these take delight & pleasure therin: for he that is gracelesse and past shame, hath no sense or feeling of griefe when he hath committed any foule or dishonest act; contrariwise, whosoever be apt to bash & be ashamed quickly, are soone moved & troubled anon, even at those things which seeme onely dishonest, although they be not indeed. Now, lest the equivocation of the word might breed any doubt, I meane by Dysopia immoderate bash­fulnesse, whereby one blusheth for shame exceedingly and for every thing, whereupon such an one is called in Greeke Dysopetus, for that his visage and countenance together with his mind changeth, falleth and is cast downe: for like as [...] in Greeke is defined to be a sacred heavinesse, which causeth a downe-looke; even so, that shame and dismaiednesse which maketh us that we dare not looke a man in the face as we should and when we ought, the call [...] 30 And hereupon it was that the great Oratour Demosthenes said of an impudent fellow, that he had in his eies not [...] but [...] i. harlots, playing pretily upon the ambiguity of the word [...] which signifieth both the round apple in the eies, and also a maiden or virgine: but contrari­wise the over-bashfull person (whom wee speake of) sheweth in his countenance a minde too soft, delicate and effeminate, and yet he flattereth himselfe therein, and calleth that fault (where­in the impudent person surpasseth him) Shamefastnesse. Now Cato was woont to say, That he loved to see yoong folke rather to blush than to looke pale; as having good reason to acquaint and teach youth to dread shame and reproch more than blame and reproofe; yea, and suspition or obloquie, rather than perill or danger.

Howbeit, we must abridge & cut off the excesse and over-much, which is in such timidity and 40 feare of reproch; for that often-times it commeth to passe in some, who dreading no lesse to heare ill and be accused, than to be chastised or punished; for false hearts are frighted from do­ing their duty, and in no wise can abide to have an hard word spoken of them. But as we are not to neglect these that are so tender, nor ought to feed them in their feeblenesse of heart; so a­gaine, we must not praise their disposition who are stiffe and inflexible: such as the Poët descri­beth, when he saith:

but we ought to compound a good mixture and temperate medley of both extremities, which may take away this excessive obstinacie which is impudence, and that immoderate modestie which is meere childishnesse and imbecilitie. True it is that the cure of these two maladies is difficult; neither can this excesse both in the one and the other be cut off without danger. For like as the skilfull husbandman when he would rid the ground of some wilde bushes and fruit­lesse plants, he laieth at them mainely with his grubbing hooke or mattocke, untill he have fet­ched them up by the roote; or else sets fire unto them and so burneth them; but when he comes [Page 164] to proine or cut a vine, an appletree, or an olive, he carrieth his hand lightly for feare of woun­ding any of the sound wood, in fetching off the superfluous and ranke branches, and so kill the heart thereof; even so the Philosopher, entending to plucke out of the mind of a yoong man, either envie, an unkind and savage plant, which hardly or unneth at all may be made gentle and brought to any good use; or the unseasonable and excessive greedines of gathering good, or dissolute and disordinate lust; he never feareth at all in the cutting thereof, to draw blood, to presse and pierce hard to the bottom, yea and to make a large wound and deepe skarre. But when he setteth to the keene edge of remonstrance and speech, to the tender and delicate part of the soule, for to cut away that which is excessive or overmuch, to wit, wherein is feated this unmeasurable and sheepish bashfulnesse, he hath a great care and regard, lest ere he be aware he 10 cut away therewith, that ingenuous and honest shamefastnesse that is so good and commenda­ble. For we see that even nourses themselves when they thinke to wipe away the filth of their little infants, and to make them cleane; if they rub any thing hard, otherwhiles fetch off the skin withall, make the flesh raw and put them to paine. And therefore we must take heed, that in see­king by all meanes to do out this excessive bashfulnesse utterly in yoong people, we make them not brasen faced, such as care not what is said unto them, and blush thereat no more than a black­dog, and in one word standing stiffe in any thing that they do; but rather we ought to doe, as they, who demolish and pull downe the dwelling houses that be neere unto the temples of the gods; who for feare of touching any thing that is holy or sacred, suffer those ends of the edi­fices and buildings to stand still, which are next and joined close thereto; yea and those they 20 underprop and stay up, that they should not fall downe of themselves; even so (I say) beware and feare we must, whiles we be tempering about this immoderate shamefacednesse for to re­moove it, that we do not draw away with it grace and modesty, gentlenes and debonarity which be adjacents and lie close unto it; under which qualities lieth lurking and sticketh close to, the foresaid naughtie bashfulnesse, flattering him that is possessed therewith, as if he were full of hu­manitie, courtesie, civilitie and common sense; not opinionative, severe, inflexible and untra­ctable: which is the reason, that the Stoicke Philosophers when they dispute of this matter, have distinguished by severall names, this aptnes to blush or over-much bashfulnesse, from modestie and shamefacednesse indeed: for feare lest the aequivocation and ambiguitie of one common word, might give some occasion and vantage to the vicious passion it selfe to do some 30 hurt. As for us, they must give us leave to use the tearmes without calumniation, or rather per­mit us to distinguish according to Homer, when he saith,

neither without good cause is it, that in the former place he putteth downe the harme and dis­commoditie thereof: for surely it is not profitable but by the meanes of reason, which cutteth off that which is superfluous, and leaveth a meane behinde.

To come then unto the remedies thereof; it behooveth him first and formost, who is given to blushing at every smal matter, to beleeve & be perswaded, that he is possessed with such an hurt­full passion: (now there is nothing hurtfull, which is good and honest) neither ought he to take pleasure and delight when he shall be tickled in the eare with praises and commendations, when 40 he shall heare himselfe called gentle, jolly and courteous, in steed of grave, magnanimous and just; neither let him do as Pegasus the horse in Euripides, who

that is to say, give place and yeeld after a base manner to the demaunds and requests of everie man; or object himselfe to their wil and pleasure, for feare (forsooth) lest one should say of him Lo what a hard man is this? See how inexorable he is. It is reported of Bocchorus a king of Egypt, that being rough, fell & austere, the goddesse Isis sent the serpent called Aspis, for to wind and wreath about his head, and so to cast a shadow over him from above, to the ende that hee might be put in minde to judge aright: but this excessive shamefastnesse which alwaies over­spreadeth 50 and covereth them, who are not manly but faint-hearted and effeminate, not suffering them once to dare, to deny, or gainsay any thing, surely, would avert and withdraw judges from doing justice close up their mouthes, that in counsels and consultations should deliver their opinion frankly; yea and cause them both to say and do many things inconsiderately against their minde, which otherwhiles they would not. For looke whosoever is most unreasonable and importunate, he will ever tyrannize and dominier over such an one, forcing by his impu­dencie the bashfulnesse of the other: by which meanes, it commeth to passe that this excessive [Page 165] shame, like unto a low piece of soft ground which is ready to receive all the water that comes, and apt to be overflowed and drowned, having no power to withstand and repulse any encoun­ter, nor say a word to the contrarie whatsoever is proposed, yeeldeth accesse to the lewdest des­seignes, acts and passions that be. An evill guardian and keeper of childhood and yoong age, is this excessive bashfulnesse, as Brutus well said, who was of this minde, that neither he nor she could well and honestly passe the flower of their fresh youth, who had not the heart and face to refuse and denie any thing; even so likewise, a bad governesse it is of the bride-bed and womens chamber, according to that which shee saide in Sophocles to the adulterer, who repented of the fact,

In such sort as this bashfulnes, over and besides, that it is vicious and faultie it selfe, spoileth and marreth cleane the intemperate & incontinent person, by making no resistance to his appetites and demaunds, but letting all ly unfortified, unbard, and unlockt, yeelding easie accesse and en­trance to those that will make assault and give the attempt, who may by great gifts and large offers catch and compasse the wickedest natures that be: but surely by perswasions and inducti­ons, and by the meanes withall of this excessive bashfulnesse, they oftentimes conquer and get the mastrie even of such as are of honest and gentle disposition. Here I passe-by the detriments and damages that this bashfulnesse hath beene the cause of, in many matters and that of profit and commoditie: namely, how many men having not the heart to say nay, have put forth and 20 lent their money even to those whose credite they distrust; have beene sureties for such as otherwise they would have beene loth and unwilling to engage themselves for, who can ap­proove and commend this golden sentence (written upon the temple of Apollo) Be surety thou maist, but make account then to pay: howbeit, they have not the power to do themselves good by that warning, when they come to deale in the world. And how many have come unto their end and died by the meanes of this foolish qualitie, it were hard to reckon. For Creon in Euripi­des when he spake thus unto Medea,

gave a very good lesson for others to follow; but himselfe overcome at length through his foo­lish bashfulnesse, graunting one day longer of delay at her request, overthrew his owne state, and his whole house. Some there were also who doubting and suspecting that they were laide for, to be bloodily murdered, or made away by poison, yet upon a foolish modestie not refusing to go into the place of daunger, came to their death and were soone destroied. Thus died Dion; who notwithstanding hee knew well enough that Callippus laide wait for him to take away his life, yet (forsooth) abashed he was to distrust his friend and host, and so to stand upon his guard. Thus was Antipater the sonne of Cassander massacred; who having first invited Demetrius to supper, was bidden the morrow after to his house likewise; and for that he was abashed to mis­trust 40 Demetrius, who the day before had trusted him, refused not to go, but after supper he was murdered for his labour. Moreover, when Polysperchon had undertaken and promised unto Cassander for the summe of one hundred talents to kill Hercules (a base sonne of king Alexan­der by lady Barsine) he sent and requested the said Hercules to sup with with him in his lodging, the yoong gentleman had no liking at all to such a bidding, but mistrusting and fearing his curtesie, alleaged for his excuse that he was not well at ease: whereupon Polysperchon came him­selfe in person unto him, and in this maner began to perswade: Above all things my good childe (quoth he) studie and endevour to imitate the humanitie and sociable nature of your noble father, unlesse haply you have me in jealousie and suspition as if I went about to com­passe your death. The youth was abashed to heare him say so, and went with him; well, supper 50 was no sooner ended, but they made an end of the yoong gentleman also, and strangled him outright: so that it is no ridiculous and foolish advertisement (as some let not to say) but a wise and sage advise of Hesiodus when he saith;

Be not in any wise bashfull and ashamed to refuse his offer whom thou knowest to hate thee: but never leave out and reject him once who seemeth to put his trust and confidence in thee: [Page 166] for if thou do invite, thou shalt be invited againe; and if thou be bidden to a supper and go, thou canst not choose but bid againe; if thou abandon once thy distrust and diffidence, which is the guard of thy safty, and so marre that good tincture and temperature by a foolish shame that thou hast, when thou darest not refuse.

Seeing then that this infirmitie and maladie of the minde, is the cause of many inconveni­ences, assay we must to chase it away with all the might we have by exercise, beginning at the first like as men do in other exercises, with things that are not very difficult, nor such as a man may boldly have the face to denie: as for example, if at a dinner one chance to drinke unto thee, when thou hast drunke sufficiently already; be not abashed to refuse for to pledge him, neither force thy selfe, but take the cup at his hand and set it downe againe on the boord; againe, there 10 is another perchance that amids his cups chalengeth thee to hazzard or to play at dice; be not ashamed to say him nay, neither feare thou although thou receive a flout and scoffe at his hands for deniall: but rather do as xenophanes did, when one Lasus the sonne of Hermiones called him coward, because he would not play at dice with him: I confesse (quoth he) I am a very dastard in those things that be lewd and naught, and I dare do nothing at all; moreover, say thou fall into the hands of a pratling & talkative busie bodie, who catcheth hold on thee, hangeth upon thee and will not let thee go? be not sheepish and bashfull; but interrupt and cut his tale short, shake him off I say, but go thou forward and make an end of thy businesse whereabout thou wentest: for such refusals, such repulses, shifts and evasions in small matters, for which men cannot great­ly complaine of us, exercising us not to blush and be ashamed when there is no cause, do inure 20 and frame us well before-hand unto other occasions of greater importance. And heere in this place, it were not amisse to call unto remembrance a speech of Demosthenes: for when the A­thenians being sollicited and mooved to send aid unto Harpalus, were so forward in the action, that they had put themselves in armes against king Alexander, all on a sodaine they discovered upon their owne coasts Philoxenus, the lieutenant generall of the kings forces, and chiefe admi­rall of his Armada at sea: now when the people were so astonied upon this unexpected occur­rent, that they had not a word to say for very feare: What wil these men do (quoth Demosthenes) when they shall see the sunne, who are so afraid that they dare not looke against a little lampe; even so I say to thee that art given much to blush and be abashed: What wilt thou be able to do in weightie affaires, namely, when thou shalt be encountred by a king; or if the bodie of some 30 people or state be earnest with thee to obtaine ought at thy hand that is unreasonable? when thou hast not the heart to refuse for to pledge a familiar friend if he chance to drinke unto thee & offer thee a cup of wine? or if thou canst not find meanes to escape and wind thy selfe out of the company of a babling busie bodie, that hath fastened and taken hold of thee, but suffer such a vaine prating fellow as this to walke and leade thee at his pleasure up and downe, having not so much power as to say thus unto him: I will see you againe hereafter at some other time, now I have no leasure to talke with you.

Over and besides, the exercise and use of breaking your selves of this bashfulnesse in praising others for small and light matters, will not be unprofitable unto you; as for example: Say, that when you are at a feast of your friends, the harper or minstrell do either play or sing out of tune; 40 or haply an actour of a Comedie, dearely hired for a good piece of money, by his ill grace in acting, marre the play and disgrace the authour himselfe Menander, and yet neverthelesse, the vulgar sort doe applaud, clap their hands, and highly commend and admire him for his deed: in mine advice it would be no great paine or difficulty for thee to give him the hearing with pa­tience and silence, without praising him after a servile and flattering maner, otherwise than you thinke it meet and reason: for if in such things as these, you be not master of your selfe, how will you be able to hold, when some deare friend of yours shall reade unto you either some foo­lish rime or bad poësie that himselfe hath composed? if he shal shew unto you some oration of his owne foolish and ridiculous penning? you will fall a praising of him, will you? you will keepe a clapping of your hands with other flattering jacks? I would not els. And if you doe so, 50 how can you reprove him when he shall commit some grosse fault in greater matters? how shall you be able to admonish him, if he chance to forget himselfe in the administration of some ma­gistracie or in his carriage in wedlocke, or in politike government? And verily, for mine owne part, I do not greatly allow and like of that answere of Pericles, who being requested by a friend to beare false witnesse in his behalfe, and to binde the same with an oath, whereby he should be forsworne: I am your friend (quoth he) as far as the altar; as if he should have said: Saving my conscience and duety to the gods: for surely he was come too neere already unto him. But he, [Page 167] who hath accustomed himselfe long before, neither to praise against his owne minde, one who hath made an oration, nor to applaud unto him who hath sung, nor to laugh heartily at him who came out with some stale or poore jest which had no grace; hee will (I trow) never suffer his friend and familiar to proceed so farre, as to demand such a request of him, or once be so bolde as to move him (who before had refused in smaller trifles to satisfie his desire) in this maner: Be perjured for me; beare false witnesse for my sake; or pronounce an unjust sentence for the love of me.

After the same maner we ought to be prepared and provided before-hand against those that be instant to borrow mony of us, namely, if we have bene used to deny them in matters that nei­ther be of great moment nor hard to be refused. There was one upon a time, who being of this 10 mind, that there was nothing so honest as to crave and receive, begged of Archelaus the king of Macedonie (as he sate at supper) the cup of golde whereout he drunke himselfe; the king called unto his page that waited at his trencher, and commanded him to give the said cup unto Euripi­des, who sat at the boord; and withall, casting his eie wistly upon the party who craved it: As for you sir (quoth he) worthy you are for your asking to go without; but Euripides deserveth to have, though he do not crave. A woorthy speech, importing thus much, that the judgement of reason ought to be the best master and guide to direct us in our gifts and free liberalitie, and not bash­fulnesse and shame to denie. But wee contrariwise, neglecting and despising many times those that be honest and modest persons, yea, our very familiar friends, who have need of our helpe, and seeme to request the same, are ready to bestow our bounty upon such as incessantly 20 importune us with their impudent craving, not for any affection that we have to pleasure them, but because we can not finde in our heart to say them nay. Thus did king Antigonus the elder to Bias, after he had beene a long time an importunate begger: Give this Bias (quoth he) a ta­lent, for me thinks he will have it perforce: and yet this Antigonus, of all princes and kings that ever were, had the best grace and most dexterity to put by, and shift off such unreasonable beg­gers: for when a beggerly Cynicall Philosopher craved once at his hands a drachme: It is not for a king (quoth he) to give a drachme: Why then (quoth the other againe) give me a talent: Neither is it meet (quoth the king) for a Cynick to receive a talent. Diogenes as he walked o­therwiles along the Ceranicum (that is, a street in Athens, where stood erected the statues of worthy personages) would aske almes of those images; and when some marvelled at him there­fore: 30 I do it (quoth he) to learne how to take a repulse and deniall. Semblably, we ought first to be trained in small matters, and to exercise our selves in denying slight requests unto such as would seeme to demand and have at our hands that which is not fit and requisite, to the end that we may not be to seeke for an answere when we would denie them in matters of greater impor­tance: for as Demosthenes was woont to say: He who hath spent and bestowed that which he had otherwise than he should, will never employ those things which he hath, not as he ought, if per­adventure he should be furnished againe therewith. And looke how often we doe faile, and be wanting in honest things, and yet abound in superfluities, it is a signe that we are in a great fault, and many waies shame groweth to us by that meanes.

Moreover, so it is, that this excessive bashfulnesse is not onely a bad and undiscreet steward 40 to lay out and disperse our money, but also to dispose of our serious affaires and those of great consequence, wherein it will not admit the advice and counsell that reason giveth; for often­times it falleth out, that when we be sicke, we send not for the best and most expert Physicians, in respect of some friend, whom we favour and reverence so, as we are loth to doe otherwise than he would advise us: likewise wee chuse for masters and teachers of our children, not those al­waies who are best and meetest, but such as make sute and meanes unto us for to be enterteined; yea, and many times, when we have a cause to be tried in the law, we choose not alwaies the most sufficient & expert Advocates or Barristers for our counsel to plead for us; but for to gratifie a sonne of some familiar friend or kinsman of our owne, we commit the cause to him for to prac­tise and learne to plead in court to our great cost and losse. To conclude we may see manie of 50 those that make profession of Philosophy, to wit, Epicureans, Stoicks, and others, how they follow this or that sect, not upon their owne judgement and election; but for that they were importuned by some of their kinsfolke or friends thereto, whom they were loth to denie. Come on then, let us long before be exercised against such grosse faults in vulgar, smal & com­mon occasions of this life; as for example, let us breake our selves from using either a barber to trim us, or a [...] Eras­mus seemeth to read [...] i. a Fuller. painter to draw our picture, for to satisfie the appetite of our foolish shame­facednesse; from lodging also in some bad Inne or Hostelrie where there is a better neere at [Page 168] hand, because haply our hoast the goodman of the house hath oftentimes saluted us kindely; but rather make we a custome of it, (although there be but small difference and ods betweene one and another) alwaies to chuse the better: and like as the Pythagoreans observed evermore [...] not to crosse the right legge with the left, neither to take an odde number for an even, though otherwise all things else were equall and indifferent; even so are we to draw this into an ordinarie practise, that when we celebrate any solemne sacrifice, or make a wedding dinner, or some great feast, we invite not him, who is woont with reverence to give us the gentle greeting and good morrow, or who seeing us a great way off useth to runne unto us, rather than him whom we know to be an honest man and a well-willer of ours; for whosoever is thus inured and exercised long before, shall be hardly caught and surprised; nay rather he shall never be once 10 assailed and set upon in weightie matters. And thus much may suffice as touching exercise and custome.

Moreover to come unto other profitable instructions which we have gathered for this pur­pose, the principall in mine advise is this, which sheweth & teacheth us, that all the passions and maladies of the minde be ordinarily accompanied with those inconveniences which we would seeme to avoid by their meanes: as for example, ambition and desire of honor hath common­ly attending upon it dishonor; paine usually followeth the love of pleasures; labour and travell ensueth upon ease and delicacie; repulse, overthrowes, and condemnations are the ends that ensue daily upon those that are given to be litigious, contentious, and desirous to cast, foile, and conquer others; semblably it hapneth unto excessive bashfulnesse, which seeming to flie 20 and shun the smoke of blame, casteth it selfe into the very fire and flame of infamie. For those who be abashed to gaine-say and denie them, who importune them unreasonably, and will take no nay in things unjust, are constreined afterwards to beare both shame and blame at their hands who justly call them to their answer and accuse them woorthily; and whiles they feare some light checke or private rebuke, many times they are faine to incurre and susteine open dis­grace and reproch: for being abashed to denie a friend who craveth to borrow money, as being loth to say they have none, within a while after (with shame enough) they blush, when they shal be convinced to have had none; and having promised to assist and stand to some who have suit in law, by that meanes are forced to contend with others, and afterwards being ashamed there­of, are driven to hide their heads and flie out of the way. Also there be many whom this foo­lish 30 modestie hath caused to enter into some disadvantageous promise as touching the ma­riage either of daughter or sister, and being entangled therewith have beene constreined after­wards upon change of minde to breake their word and faile in their promise; as for him who said in old time, that all the inhabitants of Asia served as slaves unto one man; for that they knew not how to pronounce one onely negative syllable that is, No; he spake not in earnest but by way of bourd, and was disposed to jest: but surely these bashfull persons may if they list without one word spoken, by knitting and bending their browes onely, or nodding downward to the ground, avoid and escape many offices and absurd inconveniences, which often-times they do unwillingly and onely upon importunitie. For as Euripides said very well,

And haply we have more cause to take that course with such as be senselesse and unreasonable: for to those who be honest, sensible, and of more humanitie, we need not feare to make excuse and satisfie them by word of mouth. And for this purpose it were not amisse to be furnished with many answers and notable apothegmes of great and famous persons in times past; and to have them ready at hand to allege against such importunate & impudent fellows. Such was that saying of Phocion to Antipater: You can not have me to be your friend and a flatterer to; like­wise the answere which he made unto the Athenians, who were earnest with him to contribute and give somewhat toward the charges of solemnizing a great feast, and withall applauded and clapped their hands: It were a shame (quoth he) that I should give any thing over and above 50 unto you, and not to pay that which I owe to him yonder, pointing therewith to Callicles the usurer: for as Thucydides said; It is no shame to confesse and acknowledge povertie; but more shamefull it is indeed not to avoid and eschew it. But he who by reason of a faint, feeble, and delicate heart dare not for foolish shame answere thus unto one that demaundeth to borrow money,

[Page 169] and then suffreth to passe out of his mouth a promise (as it were) an earnest pennie or pawne of assurance,

But Perseus when he lent foorth a summe of money to one of his familiar friends and acquain­tance, went into the open market place to passe the contract at the very banke or table of ex­changers and usurers; being mindfull of that rule and precept of the Poet Hesiodus, which tea­cheth us in these words,

now when his friend marveiled hereat and said; How now Perseus, so formally and according to law? Yea (quoth he) because I would receive my money againe of you friendly, & not require it by course and suit of law. For many there be, who at the first upon a kinde of foolish modestie, are abashed to call for assurance & securitie, but afterward be forced to proceed by order of law, & so make their friends their enemies. Againe, Cato sending commendatory letters unto Denis the Tyrant, in the behalfe and favour of one Helicona Cyzicena, as of a kind, modest, and courte­ous person, subscribed in maner of a post-date under his letter thus: That which you read above, take it as written in the commendation of a man, that is to say, of a living creature by nature mutable. Contrariwise Xenocrates, although he were otherwise in his behaviour austere, yet being overcome and yeelding to a kind of foolish modestie of his owne, recommended in his 20 letters unto Polysperchon, a man of no worth or qualitie, as it prooved afterwards by the sequell: Now when as that Macedonian Lord bade the partie welcome, and friendly gave him his hand, and withall used some words of course and complement, demaunding whether he had neede of ought, and bidding him call for what he would; he made no more adoo but craved a whole ta­lent of silver at his hands; which Polysperchon caused presently indeed to be weighed out unto him; but he dispatched his letters withall unto Xenocrates to this effect: That from thence­foorth he should be more circumspect, and consider better whom he recommended unto him: and verily, herein onely was the error of Xenocrates, for that he knew not the man for whom he wrote: but we oftentimes knowing well enough that they be leawd and naughtie persons, yet are verie forward with our commendatorie letters; yea and that which more is, our purse is open 30 unto them; we are ready to put money into their hands to our owne binderance and damage; not with any pleasure that we take, nor upon affection unto them, as they do, who bestow their silver upon courtesanes, pleasants, and slatterers to gratifie them; but as displeased and discon­tented with their impudencie, which overturneth our reason upside downe, and forceth us to do against our owne judgement, in such sort, that if ever there were cause besides, we may by good reason say unto these bold and shamelesse beggers, that thus take vantage of our bash­fulnesse:

namely, in bearing false witnesse; in pronouncing wrong judgement; in giving my voice at any 40 election for an unworthie and unmeet person; or in putting my money into his hands, whom I know unsufficient, and who will never repay it. And therefore of all passions, this leawd and ex­cessive modestie is that, which is accompanied presently with repentance, and hath it not follo­wing afterwards as the rest: for at the verie instant when we give away our money, we grieve; when we beare such witnesse, we blush; when we assist them and set to our helping hand, we in­curre infamie; and if wee furnish them not with that which they require, wee are convinced as though we were not able. And forasmuch as our weaknesse is such, that we cannot denie them simply that which they would have; we undertake and promise many times unto those who do importune & ly upon us uncessantly, even those things that we are not able to cōpasse & make good; as namely, our commendatorie letters for to finde favour in princes courts; to be me­diators 50 for them unto great rulers and governors, and to talke with them about their causes; as being neither willing nor so hardie as thus to say; The king knoweth not us; hee regardeth others more, and you were better go to such and such. After this manner, when Lysander had offended king Agesilaus and incurred his heavy displeasure, and yet was thought woorthie to be chiefe in credit above all those that were about him, in regard of the great opinion and reputa­tion that men had of him for his noble acts, he never bashed to repell and put backe those suters that came unto him, making excuse and bidding them to go unto others, and assay them, who [Page 170] were in greater credit with the king than himselfe. For it is no shame not to be able to effect all things, but for a man to be driven upon a foolish modestie to enterprise such matters, as he is neither able to compasse nor meet to mannage; besides that it is shamefull, I hold it also a right great corrosive to the heart.

But now to goe unto another principle, we ought willingly and with a ready heart to doe pleasure unto those that request at our hands such things as be meet and reasonable; not as for­ced thereto by a rusticall feare of shame, but as yeelding unto reason and equity. Contrariwise, if their demaunds be hurtfull, absurd, and without all reason, we ought evermore to have the say­ing of Zeno in readinesse, who meeting with a yoong man one of his acquaintance, walking close under the towne wall secretly as if he would not be seene; asked of him the cause of his be­ing 10 there, and understanding by him that it was because he would avoide one of his friends, who had beene earnest with him to beare false witnes in his behalfe: What saist thou (quoth Zeno) sot that thou art? Was thy friend so bold and shamelesseto require that of thee which is unreasonable, unjust and hurtfull unto thee? And darest thou not stand against him in that which is just and honest? For whosoever he was that said,

teacheth us an ill lesson, to learne to be naught our selves, when we would be revenged of naugh­tinesse. 20 But such as repulse those who impudently and with a shamelesse face doe molest and trouble them, not suffering themselves to be overcome with shamefacednesse, but rather shame to graunt unto shamelesse beggers those things that be shameful, are wise men and well advised, doing herein that which is right and just. Now as touching those importunate and shamelesse persons, who otherwise are but obscure, base and of no woorth, it is of no great matter to resist them when they be troublesome unto us. And some there be who make no more ado but shift them off with laughter or a skoffe: like as Theocritus served twaine who would seeme to borrow of him his rubber or currying combe in the verie baine; of which two, the one was a meere stranger unto him, the other he knew well enough for a notorious theefe: I know not you (quoth he) to the one; and to the other, I know what you are well enough; and so he sent them both 30 away with a meere frumpe. Lysimache the priestresse of Minerva in Athens, surnamed Polias, that is, the patronesse of the citie; when certaine Muletters who brought sacrifices unto the temple, called unto her for to powre them out drinke freely: No (quoth she) my good friends, I may not do so, for feare you will make a custome of it.

Antigonus had under him in his retinue a yoong gentleman, whose father in times past had bene a good warriour, and lead a band or company of souldiours, but himselfe was a very cow­ard, and of no service, and when he sued unto him (in regard of his birth) to be advanced unto the place of his father, late deceased: Yoong man (quoth he) my maner is to recompense and honour the prowesse and manhood of my souldiours, and not their good parentage. But if the party who assaileth our modesty, be a noble man, of might and authority (and such kinde of per­sons 40 of all other will most hardly endure a repulse, and be put off with a deniall or excuse, and namely, in the case of giving sentence or award in a matter of judgement, or in a voice at the e­lection of magistrates) preadventure it may be thought neither easie nor necessarie to doe that which Cato sometimes did, being then but of yoong yeeres, unto Catulus; now this Catulus was a man of exceeding great authoritie among the Romans, and for that time bare the Censure­ship, who came unto Cato, (then Lord high treasurer of Rome that yeere) as a mediatour and in­tercessour for one, who had bene condemned before by Cato in a round fine, pressing and im­portuning him so hard with earnest praier and entreaty, that in the end Cato seeing how urgent and unreasonable he was, and not able to endure him any longer, was forced to say thus unto him: You would thinke it a foule disgrace and shame for you Catulus, Censour as you are, since 50 you will not receive an answere and be gone, if my serjeants and officers here should take you by the head and shoulders, and send you away: with that, Catulus being abashed and ashamed, departed in great anger and discontentment. But consider rather and see, whether the answere of Agesilaus and that which Themistocles made, were not more modest, and savoured of greater humanity: for Agesilaus, when his own father willed him to give sentence in a certain cause that was brought before him, against all right, and directly contrary to the lawes: Father (quoth he) your selfe have taught me from my very child-hood to obey the lawes; I will be therfore obedi­ent [Page 171] still to your good precepts, and passe no judgement against law. As for Themistocles, when as Simontdes seemed to request of him some what which was unjust and unlawfull: Neither were you Simonides (quoth he) a good Poet, if you should not keepe time and number in your song, nor I a good Magistrate, if I should judge against the law. And yet (as Plato was woont to say) it is not for want of due proportion betweene the necke and body of the lute, that one citie is at variance with another citie, and friends fall out and be at difference, doing what mischiefe they can one to another, and suffering the like againe; but for this rather, that they offend and faile in that which concerneth law and justice. Howbeit, you shall have some, who themselves observing the precise rules most exactly according to art in Musicke, in Grammaticall ortho­graphie, and in the Poeticall quantitie of syllables and measures of feet, can be in hand with o­thers, 10 and request them to neglect and forget that which they ought to do in the administration of government, in passing of judgements, and in their other actions. And therefore with such as these be, I would have you take this course which I will now tell you: Is there an Advocate or Rhetorician that doth importune you sitting as judge upon the bench? or is there an Oratour that troubleth you with an unreasonable sute as you sit in counsell? grant them both, that which they request, upon condition that the one in the entrie of his plea will commit a soloecisme or incongruity, and the other in the beginning of his narration come out with some barbarisme: but it is all to nothing, that they will never do so, it would be thought such a shame; and in very trueth, we see that some of them are so fine eared, that they can not abide in a speech or sentence that two vowels should come together: againe, Is he one of the nobilitie, or a man of honour 20 and authoritie, that troubleth you with some unhonest sute? will him likewise for your sake to passe thorow the market place hopping and dancing, making mowes, and writhing his mouth; but if he denie so to doe, then have you good occasion and fit opportunity to come upon him with this revie, and demand of him; whether of the twaine be more dishonest? to make incon­gruity in speech, and to make mowes, and set the mouth awry; or to breake the lawes, commit perjurie, and beside all right, equitie and conscience, to award and adjudge more unto the leawd and wicked, than to good and honest persons. Moreover, like as Nicostratus the Argive answe­red unto Archidamus, who sollicited him with a good summe of money (promising him besides in marriage what Lady he would himselfe chuse in all Lacedaemon) to betray and render up by treason the towne Cromnum: I see well (quoth he) ô Archidamus, that you are not descended 30 from the race of Hercules, for that he travelled thorow the world, killing wicked persons whom he had vanquished, but your study is to make them wicked who are good and honest; even so we ought to say unto him, who would bee thought a man of woorth and good marke, and yet commeth to presse and force us to commit those deeds which are not befitting, that he doth that which beseemeth not his nobility or opinion of vertue.

Now if they be meane and base persons to account, who shall thus tempt you, go this way to worke with such: If he be a covetous miser, and one that loveth his money too well; see and trie whether you can induce and perswade him by all importunity to credit you with a talent of sil­ver upon your bare word, without schedule, obligation or specialtie for his security; or if he be an ambitious and vaine-glorious person; trie if you can prevaile with him so much, as to give 40 you the upper hand or higher seat in publike place; or if he be one that desireth to beare rule and office; assay him, whether he will give over his possibilitie that he hath to such a magistracie, especially when he is in the ready way to obtaine it? Certes, we may well thinke it a very strange and absurd thing, that such as they in their vices and passions should stand and continue so stiffe, so resolute and so hard to be removed; and we who professe and would be reputed honest men, lovers of vertue, justice and equity, can not be masters of our selves, but suffer vertue to be subver­ted, and cast it at our heeles. For if they who by their importunity urge our modestie, doe it ei­ther for their owne reputation or their authoritie, it were absurd and beside the purpose, for us to augment the honour, credit and authority of another, and to dishonour, discredit and disgrace our selves; like unto those, who be in an ill name, and incurre the obloquie of the world, who 50 either in publike and solemne games defraude those of the prizes and rewardes who have achieved victory, or who at the election of magistrates, deprive those of their right of suffrages and voices to whom it doth belong, for to gratifie others that deserve it not, thereby to procure to the one sort, the honour of sitting in high places, and to the other the glory of wearing coro­nets, and so by doing pleasure unto others, falsifie their owne faith, defame themselves, and lost the opinion and reputation they had of honestie and good conscience. Now if we see that it is for his owne lucre and gaine, that any one urge us beyond all reason to do a thing; how is it [Page 172] that we doe not presently consider, that it is absurd and without all sense to hazzard and put to comprimise (as it were) our owne reputation and vertue for another man, to the end that the purse of some one (I know not who) should thereby be more weightie and heavie?

But certeinly many there be unto whom such considerations as these are presented, and who are not ignorant that they tread aside and do amisse; much like to them, who being chalenged to drinke off great bolles full of wine, take paines to pledg them with much ado, even so long till their eies be ready to start out of their heads, changing their countenance, and panting for want of winde, and all to pleasure those that put them to it. But surely this feeblenes of minde and faint heart of theirs, resembleth the weake constitution and temperature of the bodie, which cannot away either with scorching heat or chilling cold. For be they praised by those who set 10 upon them thus impudently, they are ready to leape out of their skins for joy; and say they doubt for to be accused, checked, rebuked or suspected, if haply they deny, then they are ready to die for woe and feare. But we ought to be well defended & fortified against the one & the other, that we yeeld neither to them that terrifie us, nor to those that flatter us. Thucydides verily suppo­sing it impossible for one to be great or in high place & not envied, saith, That the mā is wel ad­vised & led by good coūsel who shooteth at the greatest & highest affaires, if he must be subject unto envie. For mine ownepart, thinking as I do, that it is no hard matter to escape envie, but to avoid al complaints & to keepe our selves from being molested by some one or other that converse with us & keepe our company, a thing impossible: I suppose it good counsel for us, & the best thing we can do for our owne safetie, to incurre rather the ill will and displeasure of 20 leaud, importunate, and unreasonable people, than of those who have just cause to blame and accuse us, if against all right and justice we satisfie their minds and be ready to do them service and pleasure: as for the praises and commendations which proceed from such leawd & shame­lesse persons, being as they are in every respect counterfeit and sophisticall, we ought to beware and take heed of; neither must we suffer our selves as swine to be rubbed, scratched, or tickled, and all the whiles stand still and gently, letting them do with us what they will, untill they may with ease lay us all along, when we have once yeelded to be so handled at their pleasure: for surely they that give care to flatterers, differ in no respect from those who set out their legs of purpose to be supplanted and to have their heeles tripped up from under them; save onely in this, that those are woorse foiled and catch the more shamefull fall, I meane aswell such as remit 30 punishment to naughtie persons, because forsooth they love to be called mercifull, milde and gentle; as those on the contrary side, who being perswaded by such as praise them, do submit thē ­selves to enmities and accusations needlesse, but yet perilous; as being borne in hand & made beleeve they were the onely men, & such alone as stood invincible against all flatterie, yea and those whom they sticke not to tearme their very mouthes & voices; and therefore Bion likened them most aptly to vessels that had two eares, for that they might be caried so easily by the eares which way a man would: like as it is reported of one Alexinus a Sophister, who upon a time as he walked with others in the gallerie Peripatos, spake all that naught was of Stilpo the Mega­rean: & when one of the company said unto him, What meane you by this, considering that of late & no longer since than the other day, he gave out of you al the good that may be: I wot wel 40 (quoth he) for hee is a right honest gentleman, and the most courteous person in the worlde. Contrariwise Menedemus when he heard that Alexinus had praised him many a time; But I (quoth he) do never speake well of Alexinus; & therfore a bad man he must needs be, that either praiseth a naughty person, or is dispraised of an honest man: So hard it was to turn or catch him by any such meanes, as making use, and practising that precept which Hercules Atistheneus taught his children, when hee admonished and warned them that they should never con those thanke who praised them: and this was nothing else, but not to suffer a mans selfe to be over­come by foolish modestie, nor to flatter them againe who praised him. For this may suffice in mine opinion which Pindarus answered upon a time to one who said unto him: That in everie place and to all men he never ceased to commend him: Grand mercie (quoth he) and I will do 50 this favor unto you againe that you may be a true man of your word, & be thought to have spo­ken nothing but the truth.

To conclude, that which is good and expedient against all other affections and passions, they ought surely to remember who are easily overcome by this hurtfull modestie, whensoever they giving place soone to the violence of this passion, doe commit a fault and tread awry against their minde: namely to call to remembrance the markes and prints of remorse and re­pentance sticking fast in their minde, and to repent eftsoones and keepe the same a long time. [Page 173] For like as waifaring men, after they have once stumbled upon a stone; or pilots at sea when they have once split their ship upon a rocke and suffred shipwracke, if they call those accidents to remembrance, for ever after doe feare and take heed not onely of the same, but of such like; even so they that set before their eies continually the dishonours and damages which they have received by this hurtfull and excessive modestie, and represent the same to their minde once wounded and bitten with remorse and repentance, will in the like afterwards reclaime them­selves, and not so easily another time be perverted and seduced out of the right way. 10

OF BROTHERLY LOVE or amitie.

THose ancient statues representing the two brethren Castor and Pollux, the inhabitants of the citie Sparta, were woont in their lan­guage to call [...] And two paralell pieces of timber they are of an equall distance asunder, united and joined together by two other 10 pieces overthwart: now it should seeme, that this was a device fit­ting verie well and agreeable to the brotherly amitie of the said two gods, for to shew that undivisible union which was betweene them; and even so, I also do offer and dedicate unto you, ô Nigrinus and Quintus, this little treatise as touching the amitie of brethren, a gift common unto you both as those who are woorthie of the same: for seeing, that of your owne accord you practise that alreadie, which it teacheth and exhor­teth unto, you shall be thought not so much to be admonished thereby, as by your example to confirme and testifie the same which therein is delivered; and the joy which you shall conceive to see that approoved and commended which your selves do, shall give unto your judgement a 20 farther assurance to continue therein; as if your actions were allowed and praised by vertuous and honest beholders of the same.

Aristarchus verily, the father of Theodectes, scoffing at the great number of those Sophi­sters or counterfeit sages in his daies, said: That in old time hardly could be found seven wise men throughout the world; but in our daies (quoth he) much adoo there is to finde so many fooles or ignorant persons. But I may verie well and truely saie: That I see in this age wherein we live, the amitie of brethren to be as rare, as their hatred was in times past. The examples whereof being so few as they were among our auncients, were thought by men in those daies living, notable arguments to furnish Tragedies and Theaters with, as matters verie strange and in a manner fabulous. But contrariwise, all they that live in this age if haply they meete with 30 two brethren, that be good and kind one to another, woonder and marvell thereat as much as if they saw those Molionides (of whom Homer speaketh) whose bodies seemed to grow together in one: and as incredible and miraculous doe they thinke it, that brethren should use in com­mon the patrimonie, goods, friends and slaves which their fathers left behind unto them, as if one and the same soule alone ruled the feet, hands and eies of two bodies. And yet nature her selfe hath set downe a lively example of that mutuall behaviour and carriage that ought to bee among brethren, and the same not farre off, but even within our owne bodies, wherein she hath framed and devised for the most part those members double, and as a man would say, brethren­like and twinnes, which be necessarie, to wit, two hands, two feet, two eies, two eares, and two nose thrils; shewing thereby, that she hath thus distinguished them all, not onely for their 40 naturall health and safetie, but also for a mutuall and reciprocall helpe, and not for to quar­rell and fight one with another. As for the hands when she parted them into many fingers, and those of unequallength and bignesse, she hath made them of all other organicall parts, the most proper artificious and workemanlike instruments; insomuch as that ancient Philosopher A­naxagoras ascribed the verie cause of mans wisedome and understanding unto the hands. Howbeit, the contrarie unto this should seeme rather to be true; for man was not the wisest of all other living creatures in regard of his hands, but because by nature being eudued with rea­son, given to be wittie and capable of arts and sciences, he was likewise naturally furnished with such instruments as these. Moreover, this is well knowen unto everie man, that nature hath for­med of one and the same seed, as of one principle of life, two, three, and more brethren; not to 50 the end that they should be at debate and variance, but that being apart and asunder, they might the better and more commodiously helpe one another. For those men with three bodies and a hundred armes apiece, which the Poëts describe unto us (if ever there were any such) being joi­ned and growen together in all their parts, were not able to doe any thing at all when they were parted asunder, or as it were, without themselves: which brethren can doe well enough, namely, dwell and keepe within house and go abroad together, meddle in affaires of State, exercise hus­bandrie and tillage one with another, in case they preserve and keepe well that principle of amity [Page 175] and benevolence which nature hath given them. For otherwise they should (I suppose) nothing differ from those feet which are readie to trip or supplant one another, and cause them to catch a fall: or they should resemble those hands and fingers which enfolded and claspe one another untowardly against the course of nature. But rather according as in one and the same bodie, the cold, the hot, the drie, and the moist, participating likewise in one and the same nature and nourishment, if they doe accord and agree well together, engender an excellent temperature and most pleasant harmonie, to wit, the health of the bodie, without which, neither all the wealth of the world, as men say,

have any pleasure, grace or profit: but in case these principall elements of our life, covet to have more than their just proportion, and thereupon breake out into a kind of civill sedition, seeking one to surcrease and over-grow another, soone there ensueth a filthie corruption and confusion which overthroweth the state of the bodie and the creature it selfe; semblably, by the concord of brethren, the whole race and house is in good case and flourisheth, the friends and familiars belonging to them (like a melodious quire of muscicians) make a sweet consent and harmo­nie: for neither they doe, nor say not thinke any thing that jarreth or is contrarie one to the other,

to wit, some ill-tongued varlet and pickthanke carrie-tale within the house, or some flattering claw-backe comming betweene, and entring into the house, or else some envious and malici­ous neighbour in the citie. For like as diseases do ingender in those bodies which neither re­ceive nor stand well affected to their proper & familiar nourishment, many appetites of strange and hurtfull meates; even so, a slanderous calumniation of jealousie being gotten once among those of a blood & kindred, doth draw and bring withal evill words and naughtie speechs, which from without are alwaies readie enough to runne thither where as a breach lieth open, and where there is some fault alreadie. That divine master and soothsaier of Arcadie, of whom Herodotus writeth, when he had lost one of his owne naturall feet, was forced upon necessitie to make himselfe another of wood: but a brother being fallen out and at warre with a brother, and 30 constrained to get some stranger to be his companion, either out of the market place and com­mon hall of the citie as he walketh there, or from the publike place of exercise, where he useth to behold the wrestlers and others; in my conceit doth nothing else but willingly cut-off a part or limme of his owne bodie made of flesh, and engraffed fast unto him, for to set another in the place which is of another kinde and altogether a stranger. For even necessitie it selfe which doth entertaine, approove and seeke for friendship and mutuall acquaintance, teacheth us to honor, chearish and preserve that which is of the same nature and kind; for that without friends societie and fellowship we are not able to live solitarie and alone as most savage beasts, neither will our nature endure it: and therefore in Menander he saith very well and wisely:

For to say a truth, most of our friendships be but shadowes, semblances and images of that first amitie, which nature hath imprinted and engraffed in children toward their parents, in brethren toward their brethren: and he who doth not reverence nor honor it, how can he perswade and make strangers beleeve that he beareth sound and faithfull good will unto strangers. Or what man is he who in his familiar greetings and salutations, or in his letters, will call his friend and 50 companion Brother, and can not find in his heart so much as to go with his brother in the same way? For as it were a point of great folly and madnesse, to adorne the statue of a brother, and in the meane time to beat and maime his bodie; even so, to reverence and honor the name of a brother in others, and withall to shun, hate and disdaine a brother indeed, were the case of one that were out of his wits, and who never conceived in his heart and minde, that Nature is the most sacred and holy thing in the world. And heere in this place, I can not choose but call to minde, how at Rome upon a time I tooke upon me to bee umpier betweene two brethren, of [Page 176] whom the one seemed to make profession of Philosophie; but he was (as after it appeered) not onely untruely entituled by the name of a Brother; but also as falsely called a Philosopher: for when I requested of him that he should carrie himselfe as a Philosopher toward his brother, and such a brother as altogether was unlettered and ignorant: In that you say (ignorant quoth he) I hold well with you, and I avow it a trueth; but as for Brother, I take it for no such great and ve­nerable matter, to have sprung from the same loines, or to have come foorth of one wombe. Well (said I againe) It appeeres that you make no great account to issue out of the same natu­ral members; but all men else besides you, if they doe not thinke and imagine so in their hearts; yet I am sure they doe both sing and say that Nature first, and then Law (which doth preserve and maintaine Nature) have given the chiefe place of reverence and honor next after the gods, 10 unto father and mother; neither can men performe any service more acceptable unto the gods, than to pay willingly, readily and affectionately unto parents who begat and brought them foorth, unto nourses and fosters that reared them up, the interest and usurie for the old thankes, besides the new which are due unto them. And on the other side again, there is not a more cer­taine signe & marke of a verie Atheist; than either to neglect parents, or to be any waies ungra­cious or defective in duty unto them: and therfore wheras we are forbidden in expresse termes by the law, to doe wrong or hurt unto other men: if one doe not behave himselfe to father and mother both in word and deed, so as they may have (I do not say no discontentment and displea­sure but) joy and comfort thereby, men esteeme him to be profane, godlesse and irreligious. Tell me now, what action, what grace, what disposition of children towards their parents, can be 20 more agreeable and yeeld them greater contentment, than to see good will, kinde affection, fast and assured love betweene brethren? the which a man may easily gather by the contrarie in other smaller matters. For seeing that fathers and mothers be displeased otherwhiles with their sonnes, if they misuse or hardly intreat some home-borne slave whom they set much store by: if I say, they be vexed and angrie, when they see them to make no reckoning & care of their woods and grounds wherein they tooke some joy and delight; considering also that the good kind-harted old folke of a gentle and loving affection that they have, be offended if some hound or dog bred up within house, or an horse be not well tended and looked unto; last of all, if they grieve when they perceive their children to mocke, find fault with, or despise the lectures, narra­tions, sports, sights, wrestlers, and others that exercise feats of activitie, which themselves some­time 30 highly esteemed: Is there any likelihood that they in any measure can indure to see their children hate one another? to entertaine braules and quarrels continually? to be ever snarling, railing and reviling one another? and in all enterprises and actions alwaies crossing, thwarting and supplanting one another? I suppose there is no man will so say. Then on the contrarie side, if brethren love together and be ready one to do for another; if they draw in one line and carrie the like affection with them; follow the same studies and take the same courses; and how much nature hath divided and separated them in bodie, so much to joine for it againe in minde; len­ding one another their helping hands in all their negotiations and affaires; following the same exercises; repairing to the same disputations; and frequenting the same plaies, games and pa­stimes, so as they agree and communicate in all things: certainely this great love and amitie 40 among brethren, must needs yeeld sweet joy and happie comfort to their father and mother in their old age: and therefore parents take nothing so much pleasure, when their children proove eloquent orators, wealthy men, or advanced to promotions and high places of digni­ties; as loving and kind one to another; like as a man shall never see a father so desirous of elo­quence, of riches, or of honor, as he is loving to his owne children. It is reported of Queene Apollonis the Cyzicen, mother to King Eumenes, and to three other Princes, to wit, Atalus, Phile­taerus and Athenaeus, that shee reputed and reported her selfe to bee right happy, and rendered thankes unto the immortall gods, not for her riches, nor roiall port and majestie; but that it was her good fortune to see those three yoonger sonnes of hers, serving as Pensioners and Esquiers of the bodie to Eumenes their elder brother, and himselfe living fearlesse and in as securitie in 50 the mids of them, standing about his person with their pollaxes, halbards, and partisanes in their hands, and girded with swords by their sides. On the other side, King Xerxes perceiving, that his sonne Ochus set an ambush and laid traines to murder his brethren, died for verie sor­row and anguish of heart. Terrible and grievous are the warres, said Euripides, betweene bre­thren; but unto their parents above all others most grievous; for that whosoever hateth his owne brother, and may not vouchsafe him a good eie and kinde looke, can not choose but in his heart blame the father that begat him, and the mother that bare him. We read that Pisistratus [Page 177] married his second wife, when his sonnes whom he had by the former were now men growen, saying: That since he saw them proove so good and towardly, he gladly would be the father of many more that might grow up like them; even so, good and loyall children will not onely af­fect and love one another for their parents sakes, but also love their parents so much the more, in regard of their mutuall kindnesse, as making this account, thinking also and saying thus to themselves; That they are obliged and bounden unto them in many respects, but principally for their brethren, as being the most precious heritage, the sweetest and most pleasant possession that they inherit by them. And therefore Homer did verie well, when he brought in Telemachus among other calamities of his, reckoning this for one, that he had no brother at all; and saying thus: 10

As for Hesiodus he did not well to wish & give advice to have an only begotten sonne, to be the full heire and universall inheritour of a patrimonie; even that Hesiodus who was the disciple of those Muses, whom men have named [...] as it were [...] for that by reason of their mutual affection and sister-like love they keepe alwaies together. Certes, the amitie of brethren is so respective to parents, that it is both a certaine demonstration that they love father and mother, & also such an example & lesson unto their children to love together, as there is none other like unto it, but contrariwise, they take an ill president to hate their owne brethren from the first ori­ginall of their father: for he that liveth continually & waxeth old in suits of law, in quarrels and 20 dissensions with his owne brethren, and afterward shall seeme to preach unto his children for to live friendly & lovingly together, doth as much as he, who according to the common proverbe:

and so by his owne deeds doth weaken the efficacie of his words. If then Eteocles the Thebane, when he had once said unto his brother Polynices, in Euripides,

should come afterwards againe unto his sonnes, and admonish them

who would not mocke him and despise his admonition? And what kinde of man would Atreus have bene reputed, if after he had set such a supper as he did before his brother, he should in this maner have spoken sentences and given instruction to his owne children? 40

Banish therefore we must, and rid away cleane, all hatred from among brethren, as a thing which is a bad nurce to parents in their olde age, and a woorse fostresse to children in their youth; be­sides, it giveth occasion of slander, calumniation and obloquie among their fellow-citizens and neighbours, for thus do men conceive and deeme of it: That brethren having bene nourished and brought up together so familiarly from their very cradle, it can not be that they should fall out and grow to such termes of enmity and hostility, unlesse they were privie one to another of 50 some wicked plots and most mischievous practises. For great causes they must bee, that are a­ble to undoe great friendship and amitie, by meanes whereof hardly or unneth afterwards they can bee reconciled and surely knit againe. For like as sundry pieces which have beene once artificially joined together by the meanes of glue or soder, if the joint bee loose or open, may bee rejoined or sodered againe; but if an entire body that naturally is united and growen in one, chaunce to bee broken or cut and slit asunder, it will be an hard piece of worke to finde any glew or soder so strong as to reunite the same and make it whole and [Page 178] sound, even so those mutuall amities which either for profit or upon some neede were first knit betweene men, happen to cleave and part in twaine, it is an easie matter to reduce them close together; but brethren if they bee once alienated and estranged, so as that the naturall bond of love can not hold them together, hardly will they peece againe or agree ever after: and say they be made friends and brought to attonement, certeinly such reconciliation maketh in the former rent or breach an ill favoured and filthy skar, as being alwaies full of jealousie, distrust, and suspicion. True it is that all jars and enmities betweene man and man, entring into the heart, together with those passions which be most troublesome and dangerous of all others, to wit, a peevish humor of contention, choler, envie, and remembrance of injuries done and past, do breed griefe, paine, and vexation; but surely that which is fallen betweene brother and 10 brother, who of necessitie are to communicate together in all sacrifices and religious ceremo­nies belonging to their fathers house, who are to be interred another day in one and the same sepulchre, and live in the meane time otherwhiles under one roofe, and dwel in the same house, and enjoy possessions, lands, and tenements confining one upon another, doth continually pre­sent unto the eie that which tormenteth the heart, it putteth them in minde daily and howerly of their follie and madnesse; for by meanes thereof that face and countenance which shoulde bee most sweete, best knowne, and of all other likest, is become most strange hideous, and un­pleasant to the eie; that voice which was woont to be even from the cradle friendly and familiar, is now become most fearefull & terrible to the eare; and whereas they see many other brethren cohabit together in one house, sit at one table to take their repast, occupie the same lands, and 20 use the same servants, without dividing them; what a griefe is it, that they thus fallen out, should part their friends, their hoasts and guests, and in one word, make all things that be common a­mong other brethren, private, and whatsoever should be familiar & acceptable, to become con­trarie & odious? Over and besides, here is another inconvenience and mischiefe, which there is no man so simple, but he must needs conceive and understand: That ordinary friends and table companions may be gotten and stollen (as it were) from others; alliance and acquaintance there may be had new, if the former be lost, even as armour, weapons and tooles may be repaired, if they be worne, or new made, if the first be gon; but to recover a brother that is lost, it is not pos­sible, no more than to make a new hand, if one be cut away, or to set in another eie in the place of that which is plucked out of the head: and therefore well said that Persian ladie, when shee 30 chose rather to save the life of her brethren than of her children: For children (quoth shee) I may have more, but since my father and mother be both dead, brother shall I never have.

But what is to be done, will some man say, in case one be matched with a bad brother? First, this we ought evermore to remember, that in all sorts of amities there is to be found some bad­nesse; and most true is that saying of Sophocles;

No kinted there is, no societie, no fellowship, no amitie and love, that can be found sincere, sound, pure and cleare from all faults. The Lacedaemonian who had married a wife of little sta­ture: We must (quoth he) of evils chuse ever the least; even so in mine advice, a man may ve­ry 40 well and wisely give counsell unto brethren, to beare rather with the most domesticall imper­fections and the infirmities of their owne blood, than to trie those of strangers; for as the one is blamelesse, because it is necessarie, so the other is blame-worthy, for that it is voluntarie: for neither table-friend and fellow gamester, nor play-fere of the same age, ne yet hoast or guest

but rather that friend, who is of the same blood, who had his nourishment and bringing up with us, begotten of one father, and who lay in the same mothers wombe; unto whom it seemeth that [...] Odysy. 331. Vertue herselfe doth allow connivencie and pardon of some faults, so as a man may say unto a brother when he doth a fault, 50

lest that (ere I be well aware) I might seeme in my hatred towards thee, for to punish sharpely, cruelly, and unnaturally in thy person, some infirmitie or vice of mine owne father or mother instilled into thee by their seed. As for strangers and such as are not of our bloud, we ought not to love first, and afterwards make triall and judgement of them; but first we must trie and then trust and love them afterwards; whereas contrariwise, nature hath not given unto proofe and [Page 179] experience the precedence and prerogative to go before love, neither doth she expect accor­ding to that cōmon proverbe; That a man should eate a Medinonus is a measure conteining 6. modij, which is about 6. pecks with [...] bushell or two of salt with one whom he minded to love and make his friend; but even from our nativitie hath bred in us and with us the very principle and cause of amitie, in which regard we ought not to be bitter unto such, nor to search too neerely into their faults and infirmities.

But what will you say now if contrariwise some there be, who if meere aliens and strangers otherwise, yet if they take a foolish love and liking unto them, either at the taverne or at some game and pastime, or fall acquainted with them at the wrestling or fensing schoole, can be con­tent to winke at their faults, be ready to excuse and justifie them, yea and take delight and plea­sure therein; but if their brethren do amisse, they be exceeding rigorous unto them and inexo­rable; 10 nay, you shall have many such, who can abide to love churlish dogs, & skittish horses, yea and finde in their hearts to feed and make much of fell ounces, shrewd cats, curst unhappie apes, and terrible lions; but they cannot endure the hastie and cholericke humor, the error and ignorance, or some little ambitious humor of a brother. Others againe there be, who unto their concubines and harlots will not sticke to assigne over and passe away goodly houses and faire lands lying thereto; but with their brethren they will wrangle and go to law, nay they will be ready to enter the lists and combat for a plot of ground whereupon a house standeth, about some corner of a messuage or end of a little tenement, and afterwards attributing unto this their hatred of brethren, the colourable name of hating sinne and wickednesse, they go up & downe cursing, detesting and reproching them fortheir vices, whiles in others they are never offended 20 nor discontented therewith, but are willing enough daily to frequent and haunt their company. Thus much in generall tearmes by way of preamble or proaeme of this whole treatise.

It remaineth now that I should enter into the doctrine and instructions thereto belonging: wherein I will not begin as other have done at the partition of their heritage or patrimonie; but at the naughtie emulation, hart burning and jealousie which ariseth betweene them during the life of their parents. Agesilaus king of Lacedaemon was wont alwaies to send as a present unto each one of the auncients of the citie, ever as they were created Senatours, a good oxe, in testi­mony that he honored their vertue: at length the lords called Ephori, who were the censurers & overseers of each mans behavior, cōdemned him for this in a fine to be paid unto the State, sub­scribling and adding a reason withall; for that by these gifts and largesses he went about to steale 30 away their hearts and favors to himselfe alone, which ought indifferently to regard the whole body of the city; even so a man may do well to give this counsell unto a sonne, in such wise to respect & honour his father and mother, that hee seeke not thereby to gaine their whole love, nor seeme to turne away their favour and affection from other children wholy unto himselfe; by which practise many doe prevent, undermine and supplant their brethren, and thus under a colourable and honest pretense in shew, but in deed unjust and unequall, cloke and cover their avarice and covetous desire; for after a cautelous and subtill maner they insinuate themselves and get betweene them and home, and so defraud and cousen them ungentlemanly of their pa­rents love, which is the greatest and fairest portion of their inheritance, who espying their time, and taking the opportunitie and vantage when their brethren be otherwise employed, and least 40 doubt of their practises, then they bestir them most, and shew themselves in best order, obse­quious, double-diligent, sober and modest, and namely in such things as their other brethren do either faile or seeme to be slacke and forgetfull. But brethren ought to do cleane contrarie, for if they perceive their father to be angrie and displeased with one of them, they should inter­pose themselves and undergo some part of the heavie load, they ought to case their brother, and by bearing a part, helpe to make the burden lighter: then (I say) must they by their service and ministerie gratifie their brother so much, as to bring him in some sort in grace and favour againe with their father, and when he hath failed so far foorth in neglecting the opportunity of time, or omitting some other businesse which hardly will afoord excuse, they are to lay the fault and blame upon his very nature and disposition, as being more meete and fitted for other mat­ters. 50 And heereto accordeth well that speech of Agamemnon in Homer,

even so one good brother may excuse another and say; He thought I should have done it, and left this duetie for me to doe: neither are fathers themselves strait laced, but willingly enough [Page 180] to admit such translations and gentle inversions of names as these; they can be content to be­leeve their children, when they terme the supine negligence of their brethren plaine simplici­tie, their stupiditie and blockishnesse, upright dealing and a good conscience; their quarrellous and [...] nature, a minde loth to be troden under-foot and utterly despised. In this maner he that will proceed with an intent only to appease his fathers wrath, shal gaine thus much morco­ver; That not only his fathers choler will therby be much diminished toward his brother, but his love also much more encreased unto himselfe: howbeit, afterwards when he hath thus made all well, and satisfied his father to his good contentment, then must he turne and addresse himselfe to his brother apart, touch him to the quicke, spare him never a whit, but with all libertie of language tell him roundly of his fault, and rebuke him for his trespasse; for surely it is not good 10 to use indulgencie and connivencie to a brother, no more than to insult over him too much, and tread him under foote if hee have done amisse, (for as this bewraieth a joy that one taketh at his fall; so that implieth a guiltinesse with him in the same transgression: but in this rebuke and reproofe, such measure would be kept, that it may testifie a care to do him good, and yet a displeasure for his fault; for commonly he that hath beene a most earnest advocate and affecti­onate intercessor for him to his father and mother, will be his sharpest accuser afterwards when he hath beene alone by himselfe. But put the case, that abrother having not at all offended, be blamed notwithstanding and accused to father and mother, howsoever in other things, it is the part of humanitie and dutifull kindnesse to susteine and beare all anger and froward displeasure of parents; yet in this case, the allegations and desenses of one brother in the justification of an 20 other, when he is innocent, unjustly traduced, and hardly used or wronged by his parents, are not to be blamed, but allowable and grounded upon honestie: neither need a brother feare to heare that reproch in Sophocles:

when frankly & freely he speaketh in the behalfe of his brother, seeming to be unjustly condem­ned and oppressed. For surely by this manner of processe and pleading, they that are convicted take more joy in being overthrowen, than if they had gained the victorie and better hand.

Now after that a father is deceased, it is well beseeming and fit, that brethren should more affectionaly love than besore, and sticke more close together: for then presently their naturall 30 love unto their father which is common to them all, ought to appeere indifferently in mour­ning together and lamenting for his death: then are they to reject and cast behimde them all suspicions surmized or buzzed into their heads by varlets & servants, all slanderous calumniati­ons and false reports, brought unto them by pick-thankes and carrie-tales on both sides, who would gladly sow some diffension betweene them: then are they to give eare unto that which fables doe report of the reciprocall love of Castor and Pollux; and namely, how it is said, That Pollux killed one with his fist for rounding him in the eare, and whispering a tale against his brother Castor. Afterwards, when they shall come to the parting of their patrimonie and fa­thers goods among them, they ought not (as it were) to give defiance and denounce warre one against another, as many there be who come prepared for that purpose readie to encounter, 40 singing this note,

But that verie day of all others they ought to regard and observe most, as being the time which to them is the beginning either of mortall warre and enmitie irreconcileable, or else of perfect friendship and amitie perdurable: at which instant they ought among themselves alone, to divide their portions if it be possible; if not, then to do it in the presence of one indifferent and common friend betweene them, who may be a witnes to their whole order and proceeding; and so when after a loving and kinde maner, and as becommeth honest and well disposed persons they have by casting lots gotten ech one that which is his right: by which course (as Plato said) 50 they ought to thinke that there is given and received that which is meet and agreeable for every one, and so to hold themselves therwith contented: this done, I say they are to make account that the ordering, mannaging, and administration onely of the goods and heritage is parted and di­vided; but the enjoying, use and possession of all remaineth yet whole in common between: them. But those that in this partition and distribution of goods, plucke one from another the nourses that gave them [...] ; or such youths as were fostered and brought up together with them of [...] , and with whom alwaies they had lived and loved familiarly; well may they per­vaile [Page 181] so farre forth with eager pursuing their wilfulnesse, as to go away with the gaine of a slave, perhaps of greater price: but in stead thereof, they lose the greatest and most pretions things in all their patrimonie and inheritance, and utterly betray the love of a brother, and the consi­dence that otherwise they might have had in him. Some also we have knowen, who upon a pee­vish wilfulnesse onely, and a quarrellous humour, and without any gaine at all, have in the parti­tion of their fathers goods, carried themselves no better nor with greater modestie and respect, than if it had bene some bootie or pillage gotten in war. Such were Charicles and Antiochus, of the citie Opus, two brethren, who ever as they met with a piece of silver plate, made no more ado but cut it quite thorough the mids, and if there came a garment into their hands, in two pieces it went, slit (as neere as they could aime) just in the middle, and so they went either of them 10 away with his part, dividing (as it were) upon some tragicall curse and execration.

Others there be who make their boast and report with joy unto others, how in the partition of their patrimonic they have by cunning casts, connie-catched their brethren, and over-wrought them so by their cautelous circumvention, fine wit and slie policies, as that they have gone away with the better part by ods: whereas indeed they should rejoice rather and please themselves, if in modestie, courtesie, kindnesse, and yeelding of their owne right they had surpassed and gone beyond their brethren. In which regard Athenodorus deserveth to be remembred in this place; and indeed there is not one here in these parts but remembreth him well enough. This Athe­nodorus 20 had one brother elder than himselfe, named Zenon, who having taken upon him the management of the patrimonie, left unto them both by their father, had imbezeld and made away a good part of it; and in the end, for that by force he had carried away a woman and mar­ried her, was condemned for a rape, and lost all his owne and his brothers goods, which by order of law was forfait and confiscate to the Exchequer of the Emperor: now was Athenodorus abovesaid, a verie beardlesse-boystill, without any haire on his face; and when by equitie and the court of conscience, his portion out of his fathers goods was awarded and restored unto him, he forsooke not his brother, but brought all abroad and parted the one halfe thereof with him againe; and notwithstanding that he knew well enough that his brother had used no faire play, but cunningly defrauded him of much in the division thereof, yet was he never angrie with him 30 nor repented of his kindnesse, but mildly, cheerefully, and patiently endured that unthanksulnes and folly of his brother, so much divulged and talked of throughout all Grecce. As for Solon when he pronounced sentence and determined in this manner as touching the government of the weale-publike; That equalitie never bred sedition; seemed verie confusedly to bring in the proportion Arithmeticall which is popular, in place of that other faire and good proportion called Geometricall. But he that in an house or familie would advise brethren (as Plato did the citizens of his Common-wealth) above all, if possible it were to take away these words, Mine and Thine; Mine and not Mine; or at leastwise (if that may not be) to stand contented with an egall portion, and to maintaine and preserve equalitie; certes, he should lay a notable and sin­gular foundation of amitie, concord and peace, and alwaies build thereupon the famous exam­ples 40 of most noble and renowmed personages, such as Pittachus was, who when the King of Ly­dia demaunded of him whether he had money and goods enough? I may have (quoth he) more by one halfe if I would, by occasion of my brothers death whose heire I am.

But forasmuch as not onely in the possession, augmentation and diminishing of goods, the lesse is evermore set as an adverse and crosse enemie to the more, but also (as Plato said) sim­ply and universally there is alwaies motion and stirring in unequallitie, but rest and repose in e­quallitie; and so all uneven dealing and unequall partition is dangerous for breeding dissension among brethren: and possible it is, that in all respects they should be even and equall; for that either Nature at sirst from their very nativitie, or Fortune afterwards, hath not divided with even hand their severall graces and favours among them, whereupon proceed envie and jealousie, 50 which are pernicious maladies and deadly plagues, aswel to houses and families as also to States and Cities: in these regards (I say) therefore, a great regard and heed would be taken, both to prevent and also to remedie such mischiefs with all speed, when they begin first to ingender. As for him who is indued with better gifts, and hath the vantage over his other brethren, it were not amisse to give him counsell, first to communicate unto them those gifts wherein he see­meth to excell and goe beyond them; namely, in gracing and honouring them aswell as him­selfe by his credit and reputation, in advancing them by the meanes of his great friends, and [Page 182] drawing them unto their acquaintance; and in case he be more eloquent than they, to offer them the use thereof, which although it be emploied (as it were) in common, is yet neverthelesse his owne still: then let him not shew any signe of pride and arrogancie, as though he disdained them, but rather in some measure by abasing, submitting and yeelding a little to them in his be­haviour, to preserve himselfe from envie, unto which his excellent parts do lie open; and in one word, to reduce that inequallitie which fortune hath made, unto some equallitie, as farre forth as possible it is to do, by the moderate carriage of his minde. Lucullus verily would never daine to accept of any dignitie or place of rule, before his brother, notwithstanding he was his elder, but letting his owne time slip, expected the turne and course of his brother. Neither would Pollux take upon him to be a god alone by himselfe, but chose rather with his brother Castor to be a de­mie-god, 10 and for to communicate unto him his owne immortalitie, thought it no disgrace to participate with his mortall condition; and even so may a man say unto one whom hee would admonish: My good friend, it lies in you without diminishing one whit of those good things which you have at this present, to make your brother equall unto your selfe, and to joine him in honour with you, giving him leave to enjoy (as it were) your greatnesse, your glory, your vertue, and your fortune; like as Plato did in times past, who by putting downe in writing, the names of his brethren, and bringing them in as persons speaking in his most noble and excel­lent Treatises, caused them by that meanes to be famous and renowmed in the world. Thus he graced Glaucus and Adamanius in his books of Policie: thus he honoured Antiphon the yoon­gest of them all, in his Dialogue named Parmenides. 20

Moreover, as it is an ordinary thing to observe great difference and oddes in the natures and fortunes of brethren; so it is in maner impossible, that in all things and in every respect any one of them should excell the rest. For true it is, that the foure elements, which they say were crea­ted of one and the same matter, have powers and qualities altogether contrary; but surely it was never yet seene, that of two brethren by one father and mother, the one should be like unto that wise man, whom the Stoicks do faine and imagine, to wit, faire, lovely, bountifull, honourable, rich, eloquent, studious, civill and courteous; and the other, foule, ill-favoured, contemptible, illiberall, needie, notable to speake and deliver his minde, untaught, ignorant, uncivill and unso­ciable. But even in those that are more obscure, base and abject than others, there is after a sort some sparke of grace, of valour, of aptnesse and inclination to one good thing or other: for as 30 the common proverbe goeth;

These good parts therefore, be they more or lesse in others, if he that seemeth to have them in farre better and in greater measure, do not debase, smother, hide and hinder them, nor deject his brother (as in some solemnitie of games for the prize) from all the principall honours, but ra­ther yeeld reciprocally unto him in some points, and acknowledge openly that in many things he is more excellent, and hath a greater dexteritie than himselfe, withdrawing alwaies closely all occasions and matter of envie, as it were fewell from the fire, shall either quench all debate, or rather not suffer it at all to breed or grow to any head and substance. Now he that alwaies taketh 40 his brother as a colleague, counseller and coadjutor with him, in those causes wherin himselfe is taken to be his superiour: as for example; If he be a professed Rhetorician and Oratour, using his brother to pleade causes; if he be a Politician, asking his advice in government; if a man greatly friended, imploying him in actions and affaires abroad; and in one word, in no matter of consequence and which may win credit and reputation, leaving not his brother out, but ma­king him his fellow and companion in all great and honourable occasions, and so giving out of him, taking his counsell if he be present, and expecting his presence if he be absent; and gene­rally, making it knowen that he is a man not of lesse execution than himselfe, but one rather that loveth not much to put himselfe forth, nor stands so much upon winning reputation in the world, and seeking to be advanced in credit; by this meanes he shall lose nothing of his owne, 50 but gaine much unto his brother. These be the precepts and advertisements that a man may give unto him that is the better and superiour.

To come now to him who is the inferiour, he ought thus to thinke in his minde: That his brother is not one alone that hath no fellow, nor the onely man in the world who is richer, bet­ter learned, or more renowmed and glorious than himselfe, but that often-times he also is infe­riour to a great number, yea, and to many millions of us men,

but if he be such an one as either goeth up and downe, bearing envie unto all the world; or if he bee of so ill a nature, as that among so many men that are fortunate, he alone and none but he troubleth him, who ought of all other to be dearest, and is most neerely joined unto him by the obligation of blood, a man may well say of him; That he is unhappy in the highest degree, and hath not left unto another man living, any meanes to go beyond him in wretchednesse. As Me­tellus therefore thought that the Romans were bound to render thanks unto the gods in heaven, for that Scipio so noble and brave a man was borne in Rome, and not in any other citie; so everie man is to wish and pray unto the gods, that himselfe may surmount all other men in prosperity, if not, yet that he might have a brother at least-wise to attaine unto that power and authoritie so 10 much desired; but some there be so infortunate and unlucky by nature, in respect of any good­nesse in them, that they can rejoice and take a great glorie in this, to have their friends advan­ced unto high places of honor, or to see their hoasts and guests abroad, princes, rulers, rich and mightie men, but the resplendent glorie of their brethren they thinke doth eclypse and darken their owne renowme; they delight and joy to heare the fortunate exploits of their fathers re­counted, or how their great grandsires long ago had the conduct of armies, and were lord praetours and generals in the field, wherein they themselves had never any part, nor received thereby either honor or profit; but if there have fallen unto their brethren any great heritages or possessions, if they have risen unto high estate and atchieved honorable dignities, if they are advanced by rich and noble mariages, then they are cast downe and their hearts be done. And 20 yet it had behooved and right meet it were in the first place, to bee envious to no man at all; but if that may not be, the next way were to turne their envie outward, and eie-bite strangers, and to shew our spite unto aliens who are abroad, after the maner of those who to rid themselves from civill seditions at home, turne the same upon their enimes without, and set them together by the eares, and like as Diomedes in Homer said unto Glaucus,

even so it may be said unto them; There be a number besides of concurrents upon whom they may exercise their envie and jealousie, and not with their naturall brethren; for a brother ought not to be like unto one of the balance scales, which doth alwaies contrarie unto his fellow, for as one riseth the other falleth; but as small numbers do multiplie the greater, and serve to make both them bigger, and their selves too; even so an inferior brother by multiplying the state of his brother who is his superior, shall both augment him and also increase and grow himselfe to­gether with him in all good things: marke the fingers of your hand, that which holdeth not the 40 pen in writing, or striketh the string of a lute in playing (for that it is not able so to do, nor dispo­sed and made naturally for those uses) is never a whit the worse for all that, nor serveth lesse otherwise, but they all stir and moove together, yea and in some sort they helpe one another in their actions, as being framed for the nonce, unequal & one bigger & longer than other, that by their opposition and meeting as it were round together, they might comprehend, claspe, and hold any thing most sure, strong, and fast. Thus Craterus being the naturall brother of king An­tigonus who reigned and swaid the scepter: Thus Perilaus also the brother of Cassander who ware the crowne, gave their minds to be brave warriors and to lead armies under their brethren, or else applied themselves to governe their houses at home in their absence; whereas on the con­trary side, the Antiochi and Seleuci, as also certeine Grypi and Cyziceni and such others, having 50 not learned to beare a lower saile then their brethren, and who could not content themselves to sing a lower note, nor to rest in a second place, but aspiring to the ensignes and ornaments of roiall dignitie, to wit, the purple mantle of estate with crowne, diademe and scepter, filled them­selves and one another with many calamities, yea and heaped as many troubles upon all Asia throughout. Now forasmuch as those especially who by nature are ambitious and disposed to thirst after glory, be for the most part envious & jealous toward those who are more honored & renowmed than they; it were very expedient for brethren if they would avoid this inconveni­ence, [Page 184] not to seeke for to atteine either honour or authoritie and credit all by the same meanes, but some by one thing and some by another: for we see by daily experience, it is an ordinarie matter that wilde beasts do fight and warre one with another, namely when they feede in one and the same pasture; and among champions and such as strive for the masterie in feats of acti­vitie, we count those for their adversaries and concurrents onely, who professe and practise the fame kinde of game or exercise; for those that goe to it with fists and buffers, are commonly friends good enough to such sword-fencers as fight at sharpe to the utterance, and well-willers to the champions called Pancratiastae: likewise the runners in a race agree full-well with wrest­lers: these I say, are ready to aide, assist and favor one another, which is the reason, that of the two sonnes of Tyndarus Pollux wan the prize alwaies at buffets, but Castor his brother went 10 away with the victorie in the race. And Homer very well in his Poeme feigned that Teucer was an excellent archer, and became famous thereby, but his brother Ajax was best at close fight and hand-strokes, standing to it heavily armed at all peeces,

And thus it is with them that governe a State and common weale; those that be men of armes and manage martiall affaires, never lightly do envie them much who deale in civill causes and use to make speeches unto the people; likewise among those that prosesse Rhetoricke and elo­quence, advocates who plead at barre, never fall out with those Sophisters that read lectures of oratorie; among professors of Physicke, they that cure by diet envie not the chirurgions who 20 worke by hand; whereas they who endevour and seeke to win credite and estimation by the same art, or by their facultie and sufficiencie in any one thing, do as much (especially if they be badly minded withall) as those rivals who loving one mistresse, would be better welcome and finde more grace and favour at her hands one than another. True it is I must needes confesse; that they who go divers waies, doe no good one to another; but surely such as choose sundrie courses of life doe not onely avoid the occasions of envie, but also by that meanes the rather have mutuall helpe one by the other: thus Demosthenes and Chares sorted well together; Aes­chines likewise and Eubulus accorded; Hyperides also and Leosthenes were lovers and friends; in every which couple, the former imploied themselves in pleading and speaking before the peo­ple, & were writers and pen-men, whereas the other conducted armies, were warriors and men 30 of action. Brethren therefore who cannot communicate in glorie and credit together without envie, ought to set their desires and ambitious mindes as farre remote one from another, and turne them full as contrarie as they can, if they would finde comfort, and not receive displea­sure by the prosperitie and happy successe one of another: but above all, a principall care and regard they must have of their kindred and alliance, yea and otherwhiles of their verie wives and namely, when they be readie with their perillous speeches many times to blow more coales, and thereby enkindle their ambitious humour. Your brother (quoth one) doth woonders; he carrieth all before him; he beareth the sway; no talke there is but of him; he is admired, and every man maketh court to him: whereas, there is no resort to you; no man commeth toward you; nothing is there in you that men regard or set by. When these suggestions shall be thus 40 whispered, a brother that is wise and well minded, may well say thus againe: I have a brother in deed whose name is up and carrieth a great side; and verily the greater part of his credit and au­thoritie is mine and at my commaundement. For Socrates was woont to say, that hee would choose rather to have Darius his friend, than his An ancient peece of come with his image, worth 2. shillings 4. pence, or a [...] Attick. Daricks. And a brother who is of found and good judgement, will thinke that he hath no lesse benefit, when his brother is placed in great estate of government, blessed with riches, or advanced to credit and reputation by his gift of eloquence, than if himselfe were a ruler, wealthie, learned and eloquent. Thus you may see the best and readiest meanes that are to qualifie and mitigate this unequalitie betweene brethren. Now there be other disagreements besides, that grow quickly betweene, especially if they want good bringing up and are not well taught, and namely, in regard of their age. For commonly 50 the elder, who thinke that by good right they ought to have the command, rule and government of their yoonger brethren in everie thing, and who held it great reason that they should be ho­nored, and have power and authoritie alwaies above them, commonly do use them hardly and are nothing kinde and lightsome unto them: the yoonger againe being stubborne, wilfull and unruly, ready also to shake off the bridle, are woont to make no reckoning of their elder bre­threns prerogative, but set them at naught and despise them; whereby it commeth to passe, that as the yoonger of one side envied, are held downe with envie, and kept under alwaies by their [Page 185] elder brethren, and so shunne their rebukes and skorne their admonitions; so these on the other side desirous to hold their owne and maintaine their preeminence and soveraigntie over them, stand alwaies in dread lest their yoonger brethren should grow too much, as if the rising of them were their fall. But like as the case standeth in a benefit or good turne that is done, men say it is meet that the receiver should esteeme the thing greater than it is, and the giver make the least of it; even so, he that can perswade the elder, that the time whereby he hath the vantage of his other brethren is no great thing; and likewise the yoonger, that he should reckon the same birth-right for no small matter, he shall do a good deed betweene them, in delivering the one from disdaine, contempt and suspicion, and the other from irreverence and negligence. Now forasmuch as it is meet, that the elder should take care and charge, teach and instruct, ad­monish 10 and reproove the yoonger; and as fit likewise the yoonger should honor, imitate and follow the elder: I could wish that the sollicitude and care of the elder, savoured rather of a com­panion and fellow, than of a father; that himselfe also would seeme not so much to command as to perswade, and to be more prompt and ready to joy for his yoonger brothers wel-doing, and to praise him for it, than in any wise take pleasure in reprehending and blaming him if hap­ly he have forgotten his duetie; and in one word, to do the one not onely more willingly, but also with greater humanitie than the other. Moreover, the zeale and emulation in the yoonger ought rather to be of the nature of an imitation, than either of jealousie or contention; for that imitation presupposeth an opinion of admiration, whereas jealousie and contention implieth envie, which is the reason that they affect and love those who endevour to resemble, and be like 20 unto them; but contrariwise, they are offended at those and keepe them downe, who strive to be their equals. Now among many honors, which it beseemeth the yoonger to render unto his elder, obedience is that which deserveth most commendation, and worketh a more assured and heartie affection accompanied with a certaine reverence, which causeth the elder reciprocally and by way of requitall to yeeld the like and to give place unto him. Thus Cato having from his infancie honored and reverenced his elder brother Caepion, by all maner of obeisance and silence before him; in the end gained thus much by it, that when they were both men growen, he had so woon him and filled him (as it were) with so great a respect and reverence of him, that hee would neither say nor doe ought without his privitie and knowledge. For it is reported, that when Caepion had one day signed and sealed with his owne signet a certaine letter testimoniall; 30 Cato his brother comming afterwards would not set to his seale; which when Caepio understood, he called for the foresaid testimoniall and pluckt away his owne seale, before he had once de­maunded for what occasion his brother would not beleeve the deed, but suspected his testimo­nie? It seemeth likewise, that the brethren of Epicurus shewed great respect and reverence unto him, in regard of the love and carefull good will that he bare unto them; which appeered in this, that as to all other things else of his; so to his Philosophie especially, they were so wedded, as if they had beene inspired therewith. For albeit they were seduced and deceived in their opinion, giving out and holding alwaies (as they did) from their infancie, that never was any man so deepe a clearke, nor so great a Philosopher as their brother Epicurus: yet it is wonderfull to con­sider as well him that could so frame and dispose them, as themselves also for being so disposed 40 and affectionate unto him. And verily even among the more moderne Philosophers of later time, Apollonius the Peripateticke, had convinced him of untrueth (whosoever hee was) that said Lordship and glorie could like no fellowship, for he made his brother Sotion more famous and renowmed than himselfe. For mine owne part, to say somewhat of my selfe; albeit that fortune hath done me many favours, in regard whereof I am bound to render unto her much thankes; there is not any one for which I take my selfe so much obliged and beholden unto her, as for the love that my brother Timon hath alwaies shewed and doth yet shew unto me; a thing that no man is able to denie, who hath never so little beene in our companie, and you least of all others may doubt who have conversed so familiarly with us.

Now there be other occasions of trouble which ought to be taken heed of, among those bre­thren 50 which are of like age or somewhat neere in yeeres; small passions (I wote well) they be, but many they are, and those ordinary and continuall; by meanes whereof they bring with them an evill custome of vexing, fretting and angering one another ever and anon for small things, which in the end turne into hatred and enmity irreconcileable: for when they have begun to quarrell one with another at their games and pastimes, about the feeding and fighting of some little creatures that they keepe, to wit, quailes or cocks, and afterwards about the wrestling of their boies and pages at the schoole, or the hunting of their hounds in the chase, or the capa­rison [Page 186] of their horses; they can no more holde and refraine (when as they be men) their conten­tious veine and ambition in matters of more importance: thus the greatest and mightiest men amōg the Greeks in our time, banding at the first one against another in taking parts with their dancers, and then in sliding with their minstrels, afterwards by comparing one with ano­ther who had the better ponds or bathing pooles in the territorie of Edepsus, who had the fairet galleries and walking places, the statelier halles and places of pleasure, evermore changing and exchanging, and fighting (as it were) for the vantage of a place, striving still by way of odious comparison, cutting and diverting another way the conduct pipes of fountaines, are become so much exasperate one against another, that in the meane time they are utterly undone; for the tyrant is come, and hath taken all from them; banished they are out of their owne native 10 countrey; they wander as poore vagabonds thorow the world, and I may be bolde (well neere) to say, they are so farre changed from that they were afore, that they be others quite, this onely excepted, that they be the same still in hatred one to another. Thus it appeareth evident­ly, that brethren ought not a little to resist the jealousie and contentions which breed among them upon smal trifles, even in the very beginning, & that by accustoming themselves to yeeld & give place reciprocally one to another, suffering themselves to be overcome & take the foile, and joying rather to pleasure and content one another, than to win the better hand one of ano­ther: for the victorie which in olde time they called the Cadmian victorie, was nothing els but that victorie betweene brethren about the citie of Thebes, which is of all other the most wicked and mischievous. 20

What shall we say moreover? do not the affaires of this life minister many occasions of dis­agreement and debate even among those brethren which are most kind and loving of all other? yes verily. But even therein also, we must be carefull to let the said affaires to combat alone by themselves, and not to put thereto any passion of contention or anger, as an anker or hooke to catch holde of the parties, and pull them together for to quarrell, and enter into debate; but as it were in a ballance, to looke jointly together, on whether side right and equitie doth encline and bend, and so soone as ever we can, to put matters in question to the arbitrement and judgement of some good and indifferent persons, to purge and make cleere all, before they are growen so farre, as that they have gotten a staine or tincture of cankred malice, which afterwards will never be washed or scoured out: which done, we are to imitate the Pythagoreans, who being neither 30 joined in kinred or consanguinitie, nor yet allied by affinitie, but the scholars in one schoole, and the fellowes of one and the same discipline, if peradventure at any time they were so farre ca­ried away with choler, that they fell to enterchange reprochfull & reviling taunts, yet before the sunne was gone downe they would shake hands, kisse and embrace one another, be reconciled, and become good friends againe. For like as if there be a feaver, occasioned by a botch or ri­sing in the share, there is no danger thereof, but if when the said botch is gone, the feaver still continue, then it seemeth to be a maladie proceeding from some more inward, secret and dee­per cause; even so the variance betweene two brethren, when it ceaseth together with the deci­ding of a businesse, we must thinke dependeth upon the same businesse & upon nothing els, but if the difference remaine still when the controversie is ended, surely then it was but a colourable 40 pretence thereof, and there was within some root of secret malice which caused it. And here in this place it would serve our purpose very well, to heare the maner of proceeding in the decisi­on of a controversie betweene two brethren of a barbarous nation, and the same not for some little parcell of land, nor about poore slaves or silly sheepe, but for no lesse than the kingdome of Persia: for after the death of Darius some of the Persians would have had Ariamenes to suc­ceed and we are the crowne, as being the eldest sonne of the King late deceased; others againe stood earnestly for Xerxes, aswell for that he had to his mother Atossa the daughter of that great Cyrus, as because hee was begotten by Darius when hee was a crowned king. Ariamenes then came downe out of Media, to claime his right; not in armes, as one that minded to make warre, but simply and peaceably, attended onely with his ordinary traine & retinue, minding to enter 50 upon the kingdome by justice & order of law. Xerxes in the meane while, & before his brother came, being present in place, ruled as king, & exercised all those functiōs that apperteined ther­to: his brother was no sooner arrived, but he tooke willingly the diademe or roiall frontlet from his head, & the princely chaplet or coronet which the Persian kings are wont to weare upright, he laid downe, & went toward his brother to meet him upon the way, & with kind greeting em­braced him: he sent also certeine presents unto him, with commandement unto those that car­ried them, to say thus: Xerxes thy brother honoreth thee now with these presents here, but if by [Page 187] the sentence and judgement of the peeres and lords of Persia he shall be declared king, his will and pleasure is, that thou shalt be the second person in the realme, and next unto him. Ariame­nes answered the message in this wise: These presents I receive kindly from my brother, but I am perswaded that the kingdome of Persia by right belongeth unto me; as for my brethren, I will reserve that honour which is meet and due unto them next after my selfe, and Xerxes shalbe the first and chiefe of them all. Now when the great day of judgement was at hand, when this weightie matter should be determined; the Persians by one generall and common consent de­clared Artabanus the brother of Darius late departed, to be the umpire and competent judge for to decide and end this cause. Xerxes was unwilling to stand unto his award, being but one man, as who reposed more trust and confidence in the number of the princes and nobles of the 10 realme; but his mother Atossa reproving him for it: Tell me (quoth she) my sonne, wherefore refusest thou Artabanus to be thy judge, who is your uncle, and besides, the best man of all the Persians? and why doest thou feare so much the issue of his judgement, considering that if thou misse, yet the second place is most honourable, namely, to be called the kings brother of Persia? Then Xerxes perswaded by his mother, yeelded; and after many allegations brought and plea­ded on both sides judicially, Artabanus at length pronounced definitively, that the kingdome of Persia apperteined unto Xerxes: with that Artamenes incontinently leapt from his seat, went and did homage unto his brother, and taking him by the right hand, enthronised and enstalled him king: from which time forward he was alwaies the greatest person next unto his brother; and shewed himselfe so loving and affectionate unto him, that in his quarrell he fought most 20 valiantly in the navall battel before Salaminas, where in his service and for his honour he lost his life. This example may serve for an original patterne of true benevolence and magnanimitie, so pure and uncorrupt, as it cannot in any one point be blamed or steined. As for Antiochus as a man may reprehend in him his ambitious minde, and excessive desire of rule; so he may aswell woonder that considering his vaine-glorious spirit, all brotherly love was not in him utterly ex­tinct; for being himselfe the yoonger, he waged war with Seleucus for the crowne, and kept his mother sure enough for to side with him and take his part: now it hapned that during this warre and when it was at the hotest, Seleucus strucke a battell with the Galatians, lost the field, and was himselfe not to be found, but supposed certeinly to have beene slaine and cut in peeces, toge­ther with his whole armie, which by the Barbarians were put to the sword and massacred; when 30 newes came unto Antiochus of this defeature, hee laide away his purple robes, put on blacke, caused the court gates to be shut, and mourned heavily for his brother, as if he had beene dead: but being afterwards advertised that he was alive safe & sound, and that he went about to gather new forces and make head againe; hee came abroad, sacrificed with thankesgiving unto the gods, & commaunded al those cities & states which were under his dominion to keepe holiday, to sacrifice & weare chapplets of flowers upon their heads in token of publike joy. The Atheni­ans when they had devised an absurd and ridiculous fable as touching the quarrell betweene Neptune and Minerva, intermedled withall another invention, which soundeth to some reason, tending to the correction of the same, and as it were to make amends for that absurditie, for they suppresse alwaies the second of August, upon which day hapned (by their saying) that de­bate 40 aforesaid betweene Neptune and Minerva. What should let and hinder us likewise, if it chance that we enter into any quarrell or debate with our allies and kinsfolke in blood, to con­demne that day to perpetuall oblivion, and to repute and reckon it among the cursed and dismal daies: but in no wise by occasion of one such unhappie day to forget so many other good and joyfull daies wherein we have lived and beene brought up together; for either it is for nothing and in vaine that nature hath endued us with meekenesse, and harmelesse long sufferance, or pa­tience the daughter of modestie and mediocritie, or else surely wee ought to use these vertues and good gifts of her principally to our allies and kinsfolke; and verily to crave and receive pardon of them when we our selves have offended and done amisse, declareth no lesse love and naturall affection than to forgive them if they have trespassed against us. And therefore wee 50 ought not to neglect them if they be angrie and displeased; nor to be straight laced and stiffely stand against them when they come to justifie or excuse themselves; but rather both when our selves have saulted, oftentimes to prevent their anger by excuse, making or asking for givenesse, and also by pardoning them before they come to excuse if we have beene wronged by them. And therefore Euclides that great scholer of Socrates is much renowmed and famous in all schooles of Philosophie, for that when he heard his brother breake out into these beastly and wicked words against him, The soule ill take me if I be not revenged and meet with thee; and [Page 188] a mischiefe come to me also (quoth he againe) if I appease not thine anger, & perswade thee to love me as well as ever thou didst. But king Eumenes not in word but in deed & effect surpassed all others in meekenesse and patience: for Perseus king of the Macedonians being his mortall enimie, had secretly addressed an ambush, and set certeine men of purpose to murder him about Delphos, espying their time when they sawe him going from the sea side to the said towne for to consult with the oracle of Apollo: now when he was gone a little past the ambush, they began to assaile him from behinde, tumbling downe and throwing mightie stones upon his head and necke, wherewith he was so astonished that his sight failed, and he fell withall, in that manner as he was taken for dead: now the rumour heereof ran into all parts, insomuch as certeine of his servitors and friends made speed to the citie Pergamus, reporting the tidings of this occurrent, 10 as if they had beene present and seene all done; whereupon Attalus the eldest brother next un­to himselfe, an honest and kinde hearted man, one also who alwaies had caried himselfe most faithfully and loyally unto Eumenes, was not onely declared king, and crowned with the royall diademe; but that which more is, espoused and maried Queene Stratonice his said brothers wife, and lay with her. But afterwards, when counter-newes came that Eumenes was alive and comming homeward againe, Attalus laid aside his diademe, and taking a partisan or javelin in his hand (as his maner before time was) with other pentioners and squires of the bodie, he went to meet his brother: king Eumenes received him right graciously, tooke him lovingly by the hand, embraced the Queene with all honour, and of a princely and magnanimous spirit put up all; yea and when he had lived a long time after without any complaint, suspition, and jealou­sie 20 at all, in the end at his death made over and assigned both the crowne and the Queene his wife unto his brother the aforesaid Attalus: and what did Attalus now after his brothers de­cease? he would not foster and bring up (as heire apparant) so much as one childe that he had by Stratonice his wife, although she bare unto him many; but he nourished and carefully che­rished the sonne of his brother departed, untill he was come to full age, and then himselfe in his life time with his owne hands set the imperiall diademe and royall crowne upon his head, and proclaimed him king. But Cambyses contrariwise frighted upon a vaine dreame which he had; That his brother was come to usurpe the kingdome of Asia, without expecting any proofe or presumption thereof, put him to death for it; by occasion whereof, the succession in the em­pire went out of the race of Cyrus upon his decease, and was devolved upon the line of Darius 30 who raigned after him; a Prince who knew how to communicate the government of his af­faires, and his regall authoritie, not onely with his brethren, but also with his friends.

Moreover, this one point more is to be remembred & observed diligently in all variances and debates that are risen betweene brethren: namely, then especially, and more than at any time else, to converse and keepe companie with their friends; and on the other side to avoide their enemies and evill-willers, and not to be willing so much as to vouchsafe them any speech or en­tertainment. Following herein the fashion of the Candiots, who being oftentimes fallen out and in civill dissension among themselves, yea and warring hot one with another, no sooner heare newes of forrein enemies comming against them, but they rancke themselves, banding jointly together against them; and this combination is that, which thereupon is called Syncre­tesmos. 40 For some there be, that (like as water runneth alwaies to the lower ground, and to places that chinke or cleave asunder) are readie to side with those brethren or friends that be fallen out, and by their suggestions buzzed into their cares, ruinate and overthrow all acquaintance, kinred and amitie, hating indeed both parties, but seeming to beare rather upon the weaker side, and to settle upon him, who of imbecillitie soone yeeldeth and giveth place. And verily those that be simple and harmlesse friends, such as commonly yong folke are, apply themselves common­ly to him that affecteth a brother, helping & increasing that love what he may; but the most ma­licious enemies are they, who espying when one brother is angrie or fallen out with another, seeme to be angrie and offended together with him for companie; and these do most hurt of all others. Like as the hen therefore in Aesope answered unto the cat, making semblance as though 50 he heard her say she was sicke, and therefore in kindnesse and love asking how she did? I am well enough (quoth she) I thanke you, so that you were farther off; even so, unto such a man as is inquisitive and entreth into talke as touching the debate of brethren to sound and search into some secrets betweene them, one ought to answere thus: Surely there would be no quarrell be­tweene my brother and me, if neither I nor he would give care to carrie-tales and pick-thankes betweene us. But now it commeth to passe (I wot not how) that when our eies be fore and in paine, we turne away our sight from those bodies and colours which make no reverberation or [Page 189] repercussion backe againe upon it, but when we have some complaint and quarrell, or conceive anger or suspicion against our brethren, we take pleasure to heare those that make all woorse, and are apt enough to take any colour and infection, presented to us by them, where it were more needfull and expedient at such a time to avoid their enimies and evill willers, and to keepe our selves out of the way from them; and contrariwise to converse with their allies, familiars and friends; and with them to beare company especally, yea and to enter into their owne hou­ses for to complaine and blame them before their very wives frankly and with libertie of speech. And yet it is a common saying, That brethren when they walke together, should not so much as let a stone to be betwixt them; nay they are discontented and displeased in minde, in case a dog chance to runne overthwart them; and a number of such other things they feare, whereof there 10 is not one able to make any breach or division betweene brethren; but in the meane while, they perceive not how they receive into the mids of them, and suffer to traverse and crosse them, men of a currish and dogged nature, who can do nothing els but barke betweene, and sowe false ru­mours and calumniations betweene one and another, for to provoke them to jarre and fall to­gether by the eares: and therefore to great reason and very well to this purpose said Theophra­stus; That if al things (according to the old proverbe) should be common among friends, then most of all they ought to enterteine friends in common; for private familiarities and acquain­tances apart one from another, are great meanes to disjoine and turne away their hearts; for if they fall to love others, and make choise of other familiar friends, it must needs follow by con­sequence to take pleasure and delight in other companies, to esteeme and affect others, yea and 20 to suffer themselves to be ruled and led by others. For friendships and amities frame the na­tures and dispositions of men; neither is there a more certeine and assured signe of different hu­mors and divers natures, than the choise & election of different friends, in such sort as neither to eate and drinke, not to play, not to passe and spend whole daies together in good fellowship and companie, is so effectuall to hold and maintaine the concord and good will of brethren, as to hate and love the same persons; to joy in the same acquaintance; and contrariwise to abhor and shun the same companie; for when brethren have friends common betweene them, the said friends will never suffer any surmises, calumniations & quarrels to grow betweene; and say that peradventure there do arise some sudden heat of choler or grudging fit of complaint, pre­sently it is cooled, quenched, and suppressed by the mediation of common friends; for readie 30 they will be to take up the quarrell and scatter it so as it shall vanish away to nothing if they be indifferently affectionate to them both, and that their love incline no more to the one side than to the other: for like as tin-soder doth knit and rejoyne a crackt peece of brasse, in tou­ching and taking hold of both sides and edges of the broken peeces, for that it agreeth and for­teth as well to the one as to the other, and suffreth from them both alike; even so ought a friend to be fitted and sutable indifferently unto both brethren, if he would knit surely, and confirme strongly their mutuall benevolence and good will. But such as are unequall, and cannot inter­meddle and go betweene the one as well as the other, make a separation and disjunction, and not a sound joint, like as certeine notes or discords in musicke. And therefore it may well bee doubted and question made whether Hesiodus did well or no when he said, 40

For a discreet and sober companion common to both (as I said) before, or rather incorporat (as it were) into them, shall ever be a sure knot to fasten brotherly love. But Hesiodus (as it should seeme) meant and feared this in the ordinary and vulgar sort of men, who are many of them naught, by reason that so customably they be given to jealousie and suspition, yea and to selfe­love which if we consider and observe, it is well; but with this regard alwaies, that although a man yeeld equall good will unto a friend as unto a brother; yet neverthelesse in case of concur­rence, he ought to reserve ever the preeminence and first place for his brother, whether it be in preferring him in any election of Magistrates, or to the mannaging of State affaires; or in bid­ding 50 and inviting him to a solemne feast, or publike assembly to consult and debate of weightie causes; or in recommending him to princes & great lords. For in such cases which in the com­mon opinion of the world are reputed matters of honor and credit, a man ought to render the dignitie, honor, and reward, which is beseeming and due to blood by the course of nature. For in these things the advantage and prerogative will not purchase so much glorie and reputation to a friend, as the repulse and putting-by, bring disgrace, discredit and dishonor unto a brother. [Page 190] Well, as touching this old said saw and sentence of Hestodus, I have treated more at large else­where; but the sententious saying of Menander full wisely set downe in these words:

putteth us in minde and teacheth us to have good regard and care of our brethren, and not to presume so much upon the obligation of nature, as to despise them. For the horse is a beast by nature loving to a man, and the dog loves his master; but in case you never thinke upon them, nor see unto them (as you ought) they wil forgoe that kind affectiō, estrange themselves & take no knowledge of you. The bodie also is most necrely knit and united to the soule by the grea­test bond of nature that can be; but in case it be neglected and contemned by her, or not cherri­shed 10 so tenderly as it looketh to be, unwilling shall you see it to helpe and assist her, nay full un­towardly will it execute, or rather give over it will altogether everie action. Now to come more neere and to particularise upon this point, honest and good is that care and diligence which is emploied and shewed to thy brethren themselves alone; but better it would be farre, if thy love and kind affections be extended as far as to their wives fathers and daughters husbands, by car­rying a friendly minde and readie will to pleasure them likewise, and to do for them in all their occasions; if they be courteous and affable in saluting their servants, such especially as they love and favour; thankfull and beholding to their Physicians who had them in cure during sick­nesse and were diligent about them; acknowledging themselves bound unto their faithfull and trustie friends, or to such as were willing and forward to take such part as they did in any long 20 voyage and expedition, or to beare them company in warfare. And as for the wedded wife of a brother whom he is to reverence, repute and honor no lesse than a most sacred and holy relique or monument, if at any time he happen to see her, it will be come him to speake all honour and good of her husband before her; or to be offended and complaine (as well as she) of her hus­band, if he set not that store by her as he ought, and when she is angred to appease and still her. Say also that she have done some light fault, and offended her husband, to reconcile him againe unto her and entreat him to be content and to pardon her; and likewise if there be some particu­lar and private cause of difference betweene him and his brother, to acquaint the wife therewith, and by her meanes to complaine thereof, that she may take up the matter by composition and end the quarrell. 30

Lives thy brother a batcheler and hath no children? thou oughtest in good earnest to be angrie with him for it, to sollicite him to marriage, yea with chiding, rating, and by all meanes urge him to leave this single life, and by entring into wedlocke to be linked in lawfull alliance and affinitie: hath he children? then you are to shew your good will and affection more mani­festly, as well toward him as his wife, in honouring him more than ever before, in loving his children as if they were your owne, yea and shewing your selfe more indulgent, kinde and affa­ble unto them; that if it chaunce they do faults and shrewd turnes (as little ones are woont) they runne not away, nor retire into some blind and solitarie corner for feare of father and mother, or by that meanes light into some light, unhappie and ungracious companie, but may have re­course & refuge unto their unkle, where they may be admonished lovingly, and find an interces­sor 40 to make their excuse & get their pardon. Thus Plato reclaimed his brothers son or nephew Spensippus, from his loose life and dissolute riot, without doing any harme or giving him foule words, but by winning him with faire and gentle language (whereas his father and mother did nothing but rate and crie upon him continually, which caused him to runne away and keepe out of their sight) he imprinted in his heart a great reverence of him, and a fervent zeale to imi­tate him, and to set his mind to the studie of Philosophie, notwithstanding many of his friends thought hardly of him and blamed him not a litle, for that he tooke not another course with the untoward youth, namely, to rebuke, checke, and chastice him sharply: but this was evermore his answere unto them: That he reprooved and tooke him downe sufficiently, by shewing unto him by his owne life and carriage, what difference there was betweene vice and vertue, betweene 50 things honest and dishonest. Alenas sometime King of Thessalie, was hardly used and over­awed by his father, for that he was insolent, proude, and violent withall; but contrariwise, his uncle by the fathers side, would give him entertainment, beare him out and make much of him: Now when upon a time the Thessalians sent unto Delphos certaine lots, to know by the oracle of god Apollo who should be their king? The foresaid uncle of Alenas unwitting to his bro­ther, put in one for him: Then Pythia the Prophetesse gave answere from Apollo and pronoun­ced, [Page 191] That Alenas should be king: The father of Alenas denied, and said that he had cast in no lot for him; and it seemed unto every man that there was some errour in writing of those billes or names for the lotterie; whereupon new messengers were dispatched to the Oracle for to cleere this doubt; and then Pythia in confirmation of the former choise, answered:

Thus Alenas declared and elected king of Thessalie, by the oracle of Apollo, and by the meanes withall of his fathers brother, both proved himselfe afterward a most noble prince, excelling all his progenitours and predecessours, and also raised the whole nation and his countrey a great name and mighty puissance. 10

Furthermore, it is seemely and convenient by joying and taking a glory in the advancement, prosperity, honours and dignities of brothers children, to augment the same, and to encourage and animate them to vertue, and when they do well, to praise them to the full. Haply it might be thought an odious and unseemely thing for a man to commend much his owne sonne, but surely to praise a brothers sonne is an honourable thing, and since it proceedeth not from the love of a mans selfe, it can not be thought but right, honest, and (in truth) [...] [...] divine [...] an uncle. divine: for surely me thinks the very name it selfe (of Uncle) is sufficient to draw brethren to affect & love deerly one another, and so consequently their nephewes: and thus we ought to propose unto our selves, for to imitate the better sort, & such as haue bene immortalised & deified in times past: for so Her­cules notwithstanding he had 70 sonnes within twaine of his owne, yet he loved Iolaus his bro­thers 20 sonne no lesse than any of them; insomuch as even at this day in most places there is but one altar erected for him and his said nephew together, and men pray jointly unto Hercules and Iolaus. Also when his brother Iphiclus was slain in that famous battell which was fought nere La­cedaemon, he was so exceedingly displeased, and tooke such indignation thereat, that he departed out of Peloponnesus, and left the whole countrey. As for Leucothea, when her sister was dead, she nourished and brought up her childe, and together with her, ranged it among the heavenly saints: whereupon the Romane dames even at this day, when they celebrate the feast of Leuco­thea (whom they name Matuta) carrie in their armes and chearish tenderly their sisters chil­dren, and not their owne. 30

OF INTEMPERATE speech or Garrulitie. 20

AVery hard and troublesome cure it is that Philosophie hath under­taken, namely, To heale the disease of much prating; for that the medicine and remedie which she useth, be words that must be recei­ved by hearing; and these great talkers will abide to heare no man, for that they have all the words themselves, and talke continually; so that the first mischiefe of those who can not hold their tongue and keepe silence, is this; That they neither can nor will give eare to an­other; insomuch as it is a wilfull kinde of deafenesse in men, who 30 seeme thereby to controll nature, and complaine of her, in that where she hath allowed them two eares, she hath given them but one tongue. If then Euripides said very well unto a foolish auditour of his,

a man may more truely and justly say unto (or rather of) a prating fellow,

and in trueth, more properly it may be said: That one powreth good advertisements about such an one and beside him rather, than into him, so long as he either speaketh unto him that listneth not, or giveth no eare unto them that speake: for if a pratling fellow chance to heare some short and little tale, such is the nature of this disease called Garrulitie, that his hearing is but a kinde of taking his winde new, to babble it foorth againe immediatly, much more than it was, or like a whirle-poole which whatsoever it taketh once, the same it sendeth up againe very often with the vantage. Within the city Olympia there was a porch or gallery called Heptaphonos, for that from one voice by sundry reflections and reverberations it rendred seven ecchoes: but if some speech 50 come to the eares of a babbler, and enter never so little in, by and by it resoundeth againe on every side,

insomuch, as a man may well say: That the conducts and passages of their hearing reach not to the braine where their soule and minde is seated, but onely to their tongue: by reason whereof, whereas in others, the words that be heard doe rest in their understanding, in pratlers they void [Page 193] away and runne out presently, and afterwards they goe up and downe like emptie vessels, void of sense and full of sound. Well, as incurable as such seeme to be, yet if it may be thought availe­able to leave no experiment untried for to doe such good, we may begin our cure, and say thus unto a busie pratler:

But among the rest, these be the two chiefe and principall, namely: To heare and to be heard; of which twaine, our importunate talkers can attaine neither the one nor the other, so unhappie they are as to be frustrate of that which they so much desire. As for other passions and maladies of the soule, namely, Avarice, Ambition, Love and Voluptuousnesse, they doe all of them in 10 some sort enjoy their desire; but the thing that troubleth and tormenteth these babbling fel­lowes most, is this: That seeking for audience so much as they do, and nothing more, they can never meet with it, but every man shunneth their company, and flieth away as fast as his legges will carrie him; for whether men be set together in a knot, sadly talking in their round chaires, or walking in companie, let them espie one of these pratlers comming toward them, away they go every one, that a man would say the retreat were sounded, so quickly they retire. And like as when in some assembly if all be husht on a sudden so as there is not a word, wee use to say that Mercurie is come among them; even so when a prating foole entreth into a place where friends are either set at the boord to make merry, or otherwise met together in counsell, everie man streightwaies is silent and holdeth his peace, as being unwilling to minister occasion unto 20 him of talke; but if himselfe begin first to open his lips, up they rise all and are soone gone, as mariners suspecting, & doubting by the whistling northern wind from the top of craggie rocks, and promontories, some rough sea, and fearing to be stomacke-sicke, retire betimes into a bay for harbor: whereby it commeth to passe also, that neither at a supper can he meet with guests willing to eate and drinke with him, nor yet companions to lodge with him, either in journey by land, or voiage by sea, unlesse it be by constreint. For so importunate he is alwaies, that one­while he is ready to hang upon a mans cloake wheresoever he goes, another while he takes hold on the side of his beard, as if he knocked at the doore with his hand to force him to speake; in which case well fare a good paire of legs, for they are woorth much monie at such a time; as Archilochus was wont to say, yea and Aristotle also that wise Philosopher: for when upon a time 30 he was much troubled with one of these busie praters, who haunted and wearied him out of measure with cavilling tales and many foolish and absurd discourses, iterating eftsoones these words; And is not this a woonderful thing Aristotle? No iwis (quoth he againe) but this were a wonder rather, if a man that hath feet of his owne should stand still and abide to heare you thus prate. Unto another also of the same stamp, who after much pritlte prattle and a long discourse, said thus unto him: I doubt I have bin tedious unto you Philosopher with my many words; No in good sooth (quoth Aristotle unto him:) for I gave no eare at all unto you. For if otherwhiles men cannot shake such praters off, but must of necessitie let their tongues walke, this benefit he hath by the soule, that she retireth inwardly all the while lending the outward eares onely for them to beat upon, and dash as it were all about with their jangling bibble babble; for she in the 40 meane time is otherwise occupied, and discourseth to herselfe of divers matters within; by which meanes such fellowes can meet with no hearers that take heed what they say, or beleeve their words. For as it is generally held, that the naturall seed of such as are lecherous and much given to the companie of women is unfruitfull and of no force to engender; even so the talke of these great praters is vaine, barren, and altogether fruitlesse. And yet there is no part or member of our body that nature hath so surely defended (as it were) with a strong rampar, as the tongue: for before it she hath set a pallaisado of sharpe teeth, to the end that if peradventure it will not obey reason, which within holdeth it hard as with a straite bridle, but it will blatter out and not tarrie within, we might bite it until it bleed againe, and so restraine the intemperance therof. For Euripides said not, that houses unbolted; 50

And those in my conceit who say that housen without dores, and purses without strings, serve their masters in no steed; and yet in the meane time, neither set hatch nor locke unto their mouthes, but suffer them run out and overflow continually, like unto the mouth of the sea Pontus, these I say in mine opinion seeme to make no other account of words than of the basest thing in the world whereby they are never beleeved (say what they will) and yet this is the pro­per [Page 194] end and scope that all speech tendeth to, namely to winne credit with the hearers; and no man will ever beleeve these great talkers, no not when they speake the truth. For like as wheat if be it enclosed within some danke or moist vessell, doth swell and yeeld more in measure, but for use is found to be worse; even so it is with the talke of a pratling person; well may he multiply and augment it with lying, but by that meanes it leeseth all the force of perswasion. Moreover what modest, civil, and honest man is there, who would not verie carefully take heed of drunken­nes? for anger (as some say) may well be ranged with rage & madnesse; and drunkennesse doth lodge and dwell with her, or rather is Irasuror brorn est. madnes it selfe, onely in circumstance of time it may be counted lesse, for that it continueth lesse while, but surely in regard of the cause it is greater, for that it is voluntarie, and we runne wilfully into it, and without any constraint. Now there is no 10 one thing for which drunkennesse is so much blamed and accused as for intemperate speech and talke without end: for as the Poët saith,

for the greatest and woorst matter that ensueth thereupon is not singing, laughing and daun­cing; there is another inconvenience in comparison whereof all these are nothing, and that is,

This is (I say) the mischiefe most dangerous of all the rest: and it may be that the Poët covertly would assoile that question which the Philosophers have propounded and disputed upon; namely, what difference there might be, betweene liberall drinking of wine, and starke drunken­nesse? in attributing unto the former mirth and jocundnesse extraordinarie, and to the latter much babling and foolish prattle: for according to the common proverbe, that which is seated in the heart and thought of a sober person, lieth aloft in the mouth and tongue of a drunkard. And therefore wisely answered the Philosopher Bias unto one of these jangling and prating companions: for when he seemed to marke him for sitting still, and saying nothing at a feast, insomuch as he gave him the lob and soole for it: And how is it possible (quoth he) that a foole 30 should hold his peace at the table? There was upon a time a citizen of Athens who feasted the embassadors of the king of Persia, and for that he perceived that these great Lords would take delight in the companie of learned men and Philosophers, upon a brave minde that he carried, invited they were all & met there together: now when all the rest began to discourse in generall, and everie man seemed to put in some vie for himselfe, and to hold and maintaine one theame or other, Zeno who sate among them was onely silent and spake not a word; whereupon the said Embassadors and strangers of Persia began to bee merrie with him and to drinke unto him round, saying in the end: And what shall we report of you Sir Zeno unto the King our master? Marie (quoth he) no more but this, that there is an ancient man at Athens who can sit at the boord and say nothing. Thus you see that silence argueth deepe and profound wisedome; it im­plieth 40 sobrietie, and is a mysticall secret and divine vertue; whereas drunkennesse is talkative, full of words, void of sense and reason; and indeed thereupon multiplieth so many words, and is ever jangling. And in truth the Philosophers themselves when they define drunkennesse say: That it is a kinde of raving and speaking idlely at the table upon drinking too much wine; whereby it is evident, that they doe not simply condemne drinking, so that a man keepe himselfe within the bounds of modestie and silence; but it is excessive and foolish talke, that of drinking wine ma­keth drunkennesse. Thus the drunkard raveth and talketh idlely when he is cup-shotten at the boord; but the pratler and man of many words doth it alwaies and in every place, in the market and common hal, at the theatre, in the publike galleries and walking places, by day and by night. If he be a physician and visit his patient, certes he is more grievous, and doth more hurt in his 50 cure than the maladie it selfe; if he be a passenger with others in a ship, all the companie had rather be sea-sicke than heare him prate; if he set to praise thee, thou wert better to be dispraised by another; and in a word, a man shall have more pleasure and delight to converse and com­mune with lewd persons so they be discrect in their speech, than with others that be busie tal­kers, though otherwise they be good honest men. True it is indeed that old Nestor in a tragedie of Sophocles speaking unto Ajax (who overshot himselfe in some hot and hasty words) for to ap­pease and pacifie him, saith thus after a milde and gracious maner,

But surely we are not so well affected unto a vaine-prating fellow; for his importunate and un­seasonable words, marre all his good works, and make them to lose their grace. Lysias upon a time, at the request of one who had a cause to plead unto at the barre, penned an oration for his purpose and gave it him. The partie after he had read and read it over againe, came unto Lysias heavie and ill-appaied saying; The first time that I perused your oration, me thought it was ex­cellently well written, and I wondred at it; but when I tooke it a second and third time in hand, it seemed very simply endited & caried no forcible and effectuall stile with it: Why (quoth Lysias, and smiled withall) know you not that you are to pronounce it but once before the judges? and 10 yet see & marke withall the perswasive eloquence and sweet grace that is in the writing of Lysias, for I may be bold to say and affirme of him, that

And among those singular commendations that are given out of any Poët; most true it is that Homer is he alone of all that ever were, who overcame all satietie of the reader; seeming ever­more new and fresh, flourishing alwaies in the prime of lovely grace, and appeering yoong still and amiable to win favour; howbeit in speaking and prosessing thus much of himselfe,

He sheweth sufficiently that he avoideth what he can, and feareth that tedious satietie which fol­loweth hard at heeles, & laieth wait (as it were) unto all long traines of speech; in which regard he leadeth the reader & hearer of his Poemes from one discourse & narration to another, and ever­more with novelties doth so refresh and recreate him, that he thinketh he hath never enough; whereas our long-tongued chatterers do after a sort wound and weary the eares of their hearers by their tautologies and vaine repetitions of the same thing as they that soile and flourry wri­ting tables when they be faire scoured and clensed: and therefore let us set this first and formost before their eies, that like as they who force men to drinke wine out of measure and undelaied with water, are the cause that the good blessing which was given us to rejoice our hearts and make us pleasant and merry, driveth some into sadnesse, and others into drunkennesse and vio­lence; 30 even so they that beyond all reason and to no purpose use their speech (which is a thing otherwise counted the most delightsome and amiable meanes of conference and societie that men have together) cause it to bee inhumane and unsociable, displeasing those whom they thought to please, making them to be mocked at their hands, of whom they looked to be well esteemed, and to have their evill will and displeasure, whose love and amitie they made recko­ning of. And even as hee by good right may be esteemed uncourteous and altogether uncivill, who with the girdle and ussue of Venus, wherein are allsorts of kind and amiable allurements, should repell and drive from him as many as desire his companie; so hee that with his speech maketh others heavie and himselfe hatefull, may well be held and reputed for a gracelesse man and of no bringing up in the world. As for other passions and maladies of the minde, some are 40 dangerous, others odious, and some againe ridiculous and exposed to mockerie; but garrulity is subject unto all these inconveniences at once. For such folke as are noted for their lavish tongue, are a meere laughing stocke, and in every common and ordinary report of theirs, they minister occasion of laughter; hated they be for their relation of ill newes, and in danger they are because they cannot conceale and keepe close their owne secrets: heereupon Anacharsis being invited one day & feasted by Solon, was reputed wise, for that being asleepe he was found and seene holding his right hand to his mouth, and his left upon his privities and natural parts: for good reason he had to thinke, that the tongue required and needed the stronger bridle and bit to restreine it: and in very truth it were a hard matter to reckon so many persons undone and overthrowne by their intemperate and loose life, as there have beene cities and mightie 50 States ruinated and subverted utterly, by the revealing and opening of some secrets. It fortuned that whiles Sylla did inleaguer before the citie of Athens, and had not leasure to stay there long and continue the siege, by reason of other affaires and troubles pressed him sore, for of one side king Mithridates invaded and harmed Asia, and on the other side the faction of Marius gathe­red strength; and having gotten head, prevailed much within Rome: certeine old fellowes being met in a barbars shop within the city of Athens, who were blabs of their tongues, clattered it out in their talk together, that a certeine quarter of the citie named Heptacalchon was not sufficiently [Page 196] guarded, and therefore the towne in danger to be surprised by that part; which talke of theirs was over-heard by certeine espies, who advertised Sylla so much; whereupon immediately hee brought all his forces to that side, and about midnight gave an hot assault, made entrie and went within a very little of forcing the citie, and being master of it all, for he filled the whole streete called Ceramicum with slaughter and dead carcasses, insomuch as the chanels ran downe with bloud. Now was hee cruelly bent against the Athenians more for their hard language which they gave him than for any offence or injurie otherwise that they did unto him, for they had flouted and mocked Sylla, together with his wife Metella; and for that purpose they would get upon the walles and say; Sylla is a Sycamoore or Mulberie, bestrewed all over with dusty-meale; besides many other such foolish jibes and taunts; and so for the lightest thing 10 in the world (as Plato saith) to wit, words which are but winde, they brought upon their heads a most heavie and grievous penaltie. The garrulitie and over-much talke of one man, was the on­ly hinderance that the citie of Rome was not set free and delivered from the tyrannie of Nero. For there was but one night betweene the time that Nero should have beene murthered on the morrow, and all things were readie and prepared for the purpose: but he who had undertaken the execution of that feat, as he went toward the Theatre, espied one of those persons who were condemned to die, bound and pinnioned at the prison doore, and readie to be led and brought before Nero; who hearing him to make piteous moane and lamenting his miserable fortune, steps to him and rounding him softly in the eare: Pray to God poore man (quoth he) that this one day may passe over thy head, and that thou die not to day, for to morrow thou shalt con me 20 thankes. The poore prisoner taking hold presently of this aenigmaticall and darke speech, and thinking (as I suppose) that one bird in hand is better than two in bush, and according to the common saying, that

made choise of saving his life by the surer way, rather than by the juster meanes; for he disco­vered unto Nero that which the man had whispered secretly unto him: whereupon presently the partie was apprehended and carried away to the place of torture, where by racking, scort­ching 30 and scourging; he was urged miserable wretch, to confesse and speake out that perforce, which of himselfe he had revealed without any constraint at all. Zeno the Philosopher fearing that whē his body was put to dolorous and horrible torments, he should be forced even against his will to bewray and disclose some secret plot; bit-off his tongue with his owne teeth and spit it in the Tyrants face. Notable is the example of Leaena, and the reward which she had for con­teining and ruling her tongue is singular. An harlot she was and verie familiar with Harmodius and Aristogiton; by meanes of which inward acquaintance, privie she was and partie as farre foorth as a woman might be to that conspiracie which they had complotted against the usur­ping tyrants of Athens, and the hopes that they builded upon (Drunke she had out of that faire cup of Love, and thereby vowed never to reveale the secrets of god Cupid.) Now after that these 40 two paramours and lovers of hers had failed of their enterprise and were put to death; she was called into question and put to torture, and therewith commaunded to declare the rest of the complices in that conspiracie, who as yet were unknowen and not brought to light: but so con­stant and resolute she was, that she would not detect so much as one, but endured all paines and extremities whatsoever; whereby she shewed that those two yoong gentlemen had done no­thing unfitting their persons and nobilitie, in making choise to be enamoured of her. In regard of which rare secrecie of hers, the Athenians caused a Lionesse to be made of brasse without a tongue, and the same in memoriall of her to be erected and set up at the verie gate and entrie of their Citadell; giving posteritie to understand by the generosity of that beast, what an undanu­ted and invincible heart she had; and likewise of what taciturnitie and trust in keeping secrets, 50 by making it tonguelesse: and to say a trueth, never any word spoken served to so good stead as many concealed and held in, have profited. For why? A man may one time or other utter that which he once kept in; but being spoken, it cannot possibly be recalled and unsaid, for out it is gone alreadie and spread abroad sundrie waies. And hereupon it is (I suppose) that we have men to teach us for to speake, but we learne of the gods to hold our peace. For in sacrifices, religious mysteries, and ceremonies of divine service we receive by tradition, a custome to keepe silence. And even so, the Poët Homer feigned Ulysses (Whose eloquence otherwise was so sweet) to be of [Page 197] all men most silent and of sewest words; his sonne likewise, his wife and nourse, whom you may heare thus speaking:

And Ulysses himselfe sitting by Penelope, before he would be knowen unto her who he was,

so full was his tongue of patience, and his lips of continence. For why? reason had all the parts 10 of his bodie so obeisant and readie at command, that it gave order to the eies not to shed teares; to the tongue not to utter a word; to the heart not to pant or tremble, nor so much as to sob or sigh:

yea his reason had gotten the mastrie of those inward and secret motions which are voide and incapable of reason, as having under her hand the verie blood and vitall spirits in all obeysance: his people also and traine about him were for the most part of that disposition; for what wanted this of constancy & loyalty to their lord in the highest degree, to suffer themselves to be pulled & haled, to be tugged & tossed, yea & dashed against the hard ground under foote by the giant 20 Cyclops, rather than to utter one word against Ulysses, or to bewray that logge of wood which was burnt at the one end, & an instrument made readie for to put out his onely eie that he had? nay they endured rather to be eaten & devoured raw by him, thā to disclose any of Ulysses his secrets. Pittacus therefore did not amisse, who when the King of Egypt had sent unto him abeast for sacrifice, and willed him withall to take out and lay apart the best and woorst piece thereof, pluc­ked out the tongue and sent it unto him, as being the organ of many good things, and no lesse instrument of the woorst that be in the world. And Ladie Ino in Euripides speaking freely of her­selfe, saith that she knew the time,

For certeinly those who have had noble and princely bringing up in deed, learne first to keepe silence, and afterwards how to speake. And therefore king Antigonus the great, when his sonne upon a time asked him, When they should dislodge and breake up the campe: What sonne (quoth hee) art thou alone afraid, that when the time comes thou shalt not heare the trumpet sound the remove? Loe, how he would not trust him with a word of secrecie, unto whom he was to leave his kingdome in succession! teaching him thereby, that he also another day should in such cases be wary and spare his speech. Olde Metellus likewise, being asked such another se­cret as touching the armie and setting forward of some expedition: If I wist (quoth he) that my shirt which is next my skinne, knew this my inward intent and secret purpose, I would put it off and fling it into the fire. King Eumenes, being advertised that Craterus was comming against 40 him with his forces, kept it to himselfe, and would not acquaint any of his neerest friends there­with, but made semblance and gave it out (though untruly) that it was Neoptolemus who had the leading of that power; for him did his souldiours contemne and make no reckoning of, whereas the glory and renowme of Craterus they had in admiration, and loved his vertue and valour: now when no man els but himselfe knew of Craterus his being in the field, they gave him battell, vanquished him, slew him before they were aware, neither tooke they knowledge of him before they found him dead on the ground. See how by a stratageme of secrecie and si­lence the victorie was archieved, onely by concealing so hardie and terrible an enemie; inso­much, as his very friends about him admired more his wisedome in keeping this secret from them, than complained of his diffidence and distrust of them. And say that a man should com­plaine 50 of thee in such a case, better it were yet to be challenged and blamed for distrusting, all the while thou remainest safe and obtaine a victorie by that meanes, than to be justly accused after an overthrow, for being so open and trusting so easily. Moreover, how darest thou confi­dently and boldly blame and reproove another for not keeping that secret, which thou thy selfe hast revealed? for if it was behoovefull and expedient that it should not be knowen, why hast thou tolde it to another? but in case when thou hast let flie a secret from thy selfe unto a man, thou wouldest have him to holde it in, and not blurt it out, surely it can not be but thou hast ber­ter [Page 198] confidence in another than thy selfe: now if he be like thy selfe, who will pity thee if thou come by a mischiefe? is he better, and so by that meanes saveth thee harmelesse beyond all rea­son and ordinary course? then hast thou met with one more faithfull to thee than thou art thy selfe: but haply thou wilt say: He is my very friend; so hath he another friend (be sure) whom he will do as much for, and disclose the same secret unto, and that friend (no doubt) hath ano­ther. Thus one word will get more still, it will grow and multiplie by a sute and sequence linked & hanging to an intemperate tongue: for like as Unitie, so long as she passeth not her bounds, but continueth and remaineth still in herselfe, is one and no more, in which respect she is called in Greeke, Monas, that is to say, Alone; whereas the number of twaine is the beginning of a diversitie (as it were) and difference, and therefore indefinite; for straight-waies is Unitie passed 10 forth of it selfe by doubling, and so turneth to a plurality; even so a word or speech all the while it abideth enclosed in him who first knew it, is truely and properly called a Secret, but after it is once gotten forth and set a going, so that it is come unto another, it beginneth to take the name of a common brute and rumour: for as the Poet very well saith; Words have wings. A bird, if she be let flie once out of our hands, it is much adoe to catch againe, and even so, when a word hath passed out of a mans mouth, hardly or unneth may we withholde or recover; for it flieth amaine, it flappeth her light wings, fetching many a round compasse, and spreadeth every way from one quarter to another: well may mariners stay a ship with cables and ankers, when the vi­olence of the winde is ready to drive and carrie her an end, or at least-wise they may moderate her swift & flight course; but if a word be issued out of the mouth, as out of her haven, and have 20 gotten sea-roome, there is no bay nor harborough to ride in, there is no casting of anker will serve the turne, away she goes with a mighty noise and hurry, untill in the end she runnes upon some rocke and is split, or els into a great and deepe gulfe, to the present danger of him who set her foorth;

The Senate of Rome upon a time sat in sadde and serious counsell many daies together, about a matter of great secrecie: now the thing being so much the more suspected and hearkened af­ter, 30 as it was lesse apparent and knowen abroad; a certaine Romane dame, otherwise a good so­ber and wise matron (howbeit a woman) importuned her husband and instantly besought him, of all loves to tell her what this secret matter might be upon which they did sit so close in con­sultation? protesting with many an oath and execrable curse to keepe silence and not to utter it to any creature in the world; you must thinke also, that she had teares at command, lamenting and complaining withall, what an unhappie woman she was, in case her husband would not trust her so much as with a word: the Romane Senatour her husband minding to trie and reproove her folly: Thou hast overcome me (sweet heart, quoth hee) and through thine importunitie, thou shalt heare of a strange and terrible occurrent that troubleth us all. So it is, that we are ad­vertised by our Priests, that there hath bene a larke of late seene flying in the aire, with a golden 40 cop or crest on her head in maner of an helmet, and withall, bearing a javelin: hereupon we do conferre and consult with our Soothsaiers and Diviners, desirous to be certified out of their learning, whether this prodigious token portend good or hurt to the Common-weale? but keepe it to thy selfe (as thou lovest me) and tell it no bodie. When he had thus said, he went forth toward the Common hall and Market place: his wife incontinently had no sooner spied one of her waiting maidens comming into the roome, but she drew her apart, begunne to beat and knocke her owne brest, to rent and teare the haire off her head, and therewith: Ah, woe's me (quoth she) for my poore husband, my sweet native countrey; alas and weladay, what shall we doe, and what will become of us all; as if shee taught her maide and were desirous that shee should say thus unto her againe: Why, what is the matter mistresse? Now when the maiden 50 thereupon asked her, What newes? shee set tale an end and told all, marie shee forgat not the common and ordinarie burden or clause, that all blabs of their tongue use to come in with: But in any case (quoth she) say nothing, but keepe it to thy selfe. Scarse was shee gone out of her mistresse sight, but seeing one of her fellowes whom she found most at leasure and doing little or nothing, to her she imparted all. That wench againe made no more adoo, but to her lover she goes, who haply then was come to visite her, and telleth him as much. By this meanes the tale was bruted abroad, and passed roundly from one to another; insomuch as the rumour thereof [Page 199] was runne into the market place, and there went currant before the first author, and deviset ther­of himselfe was gotten thither. For there meetes with him one of his familiars and friends: How now (quoth he) are you come but now directly from your house to the market place: No (quoth he againe) I am but newly come: Why then belike (saith the other) you have heard no newes? Newes (quoth he) what newes should I heare? and what tidings can you tell me off? Why man (answered he againe) there hath beene of late a Larke seene flying with a golden cop or crest on her head, and carrying beside a javelin; and the Consuls with other Magistrates are readie to call a Senate house for to sit upon this strange occurrent. With that the Senatour be­foresaid, turning aside & smiling, thus said to himselfe: Wel done wife, I con thee thank for thy quicknes & celeritie, thou hast quit thy selfe well indeed, that the word which erewhile I uttered 10 unto thee, is gotten before me into the market place. Well, the first thing that he did was this, To the Magistrates he went straightwaies, signified unto them the occasion of this speech, and freed them from all feare and trouble: but when he was come home to his owne house he fell in hand to chastice his wife: How now Dame (quoth he) how is this come to passe; you have undone me for ever; for it is found and knowen for a trueth, that this secret and matter of coun­sell which I imparted to you, is divulged and published abroad, and that out of my house: and thus your unbridled tongue is the cause that I must abandon and fly my countrey, and foorth­with depart into exile. Now when at the first she would have senied the thing stoutly, and al­ledged for her excuse and defence, saying: Are not there three hundred Senatours besides your selfe, who heard it as well as you? No marvell then if it be knowen abroad. What tell you 20 me of three hundred (quoth he?) Upon your importunate instance, I devised it of mine owne head, in mirth to trie your silence, and whether you could keepe counsell. Certes, this Senator was a wise man and went safely and warily to worke, who to make proofe of his wife, whom hee tooke to be no sounder nor surer than a crackt and rotten vessell, would not poure into it either wine or oile, but water only, to see if it would leake & run out. But Fulvius one of the favorits & minnions of Augustus the Emperor, when he was now well stepped in yeeres, having heard [...] toward his latter daies, lamenting and bewailing the dessolate estate of his house, in that he had no children of his owne bodie begotten; and that of his three nephewes or sisters children two were dead, and Posthumius (who onely remained alive) upon an imputation there upon him confined, and living in banishment, whereupon he was enforced to bring in his wives sonne, 30 and declare him heire apparant to succeed him in the Empire: notwithstanding upon a tender compassion, he was otherwhiles in deliberation with himselfe, and minded to recall his foresaid sisters sonne from exile, and the place whereunto he was confined. Fulvius (I say) being privy to these moanes and desseignes of his, went home and told his wife all that he had heard. Shee could not hold but goes to the Empresse Livia, wife of Augustus, and reported what her hus­band Fulvius had told her. Whereupon Livia taking great indignation, sharply did contest and expostulate with Caesar in these termes: That seeing it is so (quoth she) that you had so long before projected & determined such a thing, as to cal home againe your nephew aforesaid; why sent you not for him at the first, but exposed me to hatred, enmity & war with him, who another day should weare the Diademe and be Emperor after your decease? Well the next morning 40 betimes, when Fulvius came, as his maner was, to salute Caesar and give him good morrow, after he had said unto him [...] that is, God save you Caesar. He resaluted him no otherwise but this, [...] that is, God make you wise Fulvius. Fulvius soone found him and con­ceived presently what hee meant thereby; whereupon hee retired home to his house with­all speede, and called for his wife; unto whom: Caesar (quoth hee) is come to the know­ledge that I have not kept his counsell nor concealed his secrets; and therefore I am re­solved to make my selfe away with mine owne handes. And well woorthie (quoth shee) for justly you have deserved death, who having lived so long with me, knew not the inconti­nence of my tongue all this while, nor would take heed and beware of it; but yet suffer me first to die upon your sword; and with that catching hold therof, killed herselfe before her husband. 50 And therefore Philippides the Comaedian, did verie wisely in his answere to King Lysimachus, who by way of all courtesie making much of him, and minding to do him honour, demaunded of him thus: What wouldest thou have me to impart unto thee of all other treasure and riches that I have? What it shall please your Majestie (quoth he) my gracious Lord, so it be none of your secrets.

Moreover, there is adjoined ordinarily unto Garrulitie, another vice no lesse than it; name­ly, Busie intermedling and Curiositie, for men desire to heare and know much newes, because [Page 200] they may report and blase the same abroad, and especially if they be secrets. Thus goe they up and downe listening, enquiring and searching if they can find and discover some close and hid­den speeches, adding as it were some olde surcharge of odious matters to their toies and foole­ries; which maketh them afterwards to be like unto little boies, who neither can hold yee in their hands, nor yet will let it goe; or to say more truely, they claspe and conteine in their bo­soms secret speeches, resembling serplents, which they are not able to hold and keepe long, but are eaten and gnawen by them. It is said that certaine fishes called the Sea-needles, yea and the vipers doe cleave and burst when they bring foorth their yoong; and even so, secrets when they be let fall out of their mouthes who can not containe them, undo and overthrow those that reveale them. King Seleucus (him I meane who was surnamed Callinicus, that is, the victori­ous 10 Conquerour) in one battell against the Galatians, was defaited hee and his whole power; whereupon he tooke from his head the Diademe or Royall band that he ware, and rode away on the spurre on horsebacke with three or foure in his companie, wandring through desarts and by waies unknowen so long, untill both horse and man were done, and readie to faint for weati­nesse: at length he came unto a countrey kearnes or peasants cottage; and finding (by good for­tune) the good man of the house within, asked for bread and water; which the said peasant or cottier gave unto him; and not that onely, but looke what the field would asoord els besides, he imparted unto him and his company with a willing heart and in great plentie, making them the best cheere that hee could devise: in the end he knew the kings face, whereupon he tooke such joy, in that his hap was to entertaine the king in his necessitie, that he could not conteine him­selfe, 20 nor second the king dissembling his knowledge, who desired nothing more, than to be unknowen: when hee had therefore brought the king onward on his way, and was to take his leave of him: Adieu (quoth he) king Seleucus: with that the king reached foorth his hand, and drew him toward him, as if he would have kissed him, & withall, beckned to one of his followers, and gave him a secret token to take his sword and make the man shorter by the head.

whereas, if he could have held his tongue a little while longer, and mastered himselfe, when the king afterwards had better fortune and recovered his greatnesse and puissance, he should in my conceit have gotten more thanks at his hands, and beene better rewarded for keeping silence, 30 than for all the courtesie and hospitalitie that he shewed. And yet this fellow had in some sort a colourable excuse for this intemperate tongue of his, to wit, his owne hopes and the good will that he bare unto the king: but the most part of these pratlers vndo themselves without any cause or pretense at all of reason: like as it befell unto Denys the tyrants barbar: for when (upon a time) there were some talking in his shop as touching his tyrannicall government and estate, how assured it was, and as hard to be ruined or overthrowen, as it is to breake the Diamond: the said barbar laughing thereat: I marvell (quoth he) that you should say so of Denys, who is so of­ten under my hands, and at whose throat in a maner every day I holde my rasor: these words were soone carried to the tyrant Denys, who faire crucified this barbar and hanged him for his foolish words. And to say a trueth, all the sort of these barbars be commonly busie fellowes 40 with their tongue; and no marvell, for lightly the greatest praters and idlest persons in a coun­trey, frequent the barbars shop, and sit in his chaire, where they keepe such chat, that it can not be, but by hearing them prate so customably, his tongue also must walke with them. And there­fore king Archelaus answered very pleasantly unto a barbar of his, that was a man of no few words, who when he had cast his linnen cloth about his shoulders, said unto him: Sir, may it please your Highnesse to tell me how I shall cut or shave you: Mary (quoth he) holding thy tongue, and saying not a word. A barbar it was, who first reported in the city of Athens, the newes of that great discomsiture and overthrow which the Athenians received in Sicily; for kee­ping his shop (as he did) in that end of the suburbs called Pyraeum, he had no sooner heard the said unlucky newes of a certaine slave who fled from thence out of the field, when it was lost, but 50 leaving shop and all at sixe and seven, ran directly into the city, and never rested to bring the said tidings, and whiles they were fresh and fire-new,

Now upon the broching of these unwelcome tidings, a man may well thinke (and not without good cause) that there was a great stirre within the city; insomuch, as the people assembled to­gether into the Market place or Common hall, and search was made for the authour of this ru­mour: [Page 201] hereupon the said barbar was haled and brought before the bodie of the people, and ex­amined; who knew not so much as the name of the partie of whom hee heard this newes; But well assured I am (quoth he) that one said so, mary who it was or what his name might be, I can not tell. Thus it was taken for an headlesse tale, and the whole Theatre or Assembly was so mo­ved to anger, that they cried out with one voice; Away with the villaine, have the varlet to the racke, set the knave upon the wheele, he it is onely that hath made all on his owne singers ends, this hath he and none but he devised; for who els hath heard it, or who besides him hath belee­ved it? Well, the wheele was brought, and upon it was the barbar stretched: meane while, and even as the poore wretch was hoised thereupon, beholde there arrived and came to the citie, those who brought certaine newes in deed of the said defeature, even they who made a shift to 10 escape out of that infortunate field: then brake up the assembly, and every man departed and retired home to his owne house, for to bewaile his owne private losse and calamity, leaving the silly barbar lying along bound to the wheele, and racked out to the length, and there remained he untill it was very late in the evening, at what time he was let loose; and no sooner was he at li­berty, but he must needs enquire newes of the executioner, & namely; what they heard abroad of the Generall himselfe Nicias, and in what sort he was slaine? So inexpugnable and incorri­gible a vice is this, gotten by custome of much talke, that a man can not leave it, though he were going to the gallowes, nor keepe in those tidings which no man is willing to heare: for certes, like as they who have drunke bitter potions or unsavory medicines, can not away with the very cups where in they were; even so, they that bring evill and heavie tidings, are ordinarily hated 20 and detested of those unto whom they report the same. And therefore Sophocles the Poet hath verie finely distinguished upon this point in these verses:

Well then, those who tell us any wofull newes be as odious as they who worke our wo; and yet for all that, there is no restreint and brideling of an untemperate tongue that is given to walke and overreach. It fortuned one day at Lacedaemon, that the temple of Iuno called there Chalciaecos was robbed, and within it was found a certeine emptie flagon or stone bottle for wine: great running there was and concourse of the people thither, and men could not tell what to make of that flagon: at last one of them that stood by; My masters (quoth he) if you will give me leave, I shall tell you what my conceit is of that flagon, for my minde gives me (saith he) that these church-robbers who projected to execute so perilous an enterprise, had first drunke the juice of hemlocke before they entred into the action, and afterwards brought wine with them in this 40 bottle, to the end that if they were not surprised nor taken in the maner, they might save their lives by drinking each of them a good draught of meere wine; the nature and vertue whereof (as you know well enough) is to quench as it were and dissolve the vigour and strength of that poison, and so goe their waies safe enough, but if it chance that they were taken in the deed doing, then they might by meanes of that hemlocke which they had drunke die an easie death, and without any great paine and torment, before that they were put to torture by the magistrate. He had no sooner delivered this speech, but the whole companie who heard his words, thought verily that such a contrived devise, and so deepe a reach as this never came from one that suspected such a matter, but rather knew that it was so indeed; whereupon they flocked round about, and hemmed him in, and on everie side each one had a saying unto him: And 50 what art thou (quoth one?) From whence art thou saith another? Here comes one and asketh, who knew him? there sets upon him another, saying: And how commest thou by the light of all this that thou hast delivered? to be short, they handeled the matter so well, that they forced him to bewray himselfe in the end, and to confesse that he was one of them that committed the sacriledge. Were not they also who murdered the Poët Ibycus, discovered and taken after the same manner? It hapned that the said murderers were set at a Theatre to behold the plaies and pastimes which were exhibited; and seeing a flight of Cranes over their heads, they whispered [Page 202] one to another: Loe these be they that will revenge the death of Ibycus. Now had not Ibycus beene a long time before seene, and much search was made after him, because he was out of the way and missed; whereupon they that sate next unto these men over-hearing those words of theirs, and well noting the speech, went directly to the Magistrastes and Iustices to give intelli­gence and information of their words. Then were they attached and examined; and thus being convicted, suffered punishment in the end, not by the meanes of those Cranes that they talked of, but surely by their owne blab-tongues; as if some hellish furie had forced them to disclose that murder which they had committed. For like as in our bodies the members diseased and in paine, draw humours continually unto them, and all the corruption of the parts neere unto them flow thither; even so, the tongue of a babling fellow, being never without an Inflamm­tion 10 and a seaverous pulse, draweth alwaies and gathereth to it one secret and hidden thing or other. In which regard it ought to be well fensed with a rampar, and the bulwarke of reason should evermore be set against it, which like unto a barre may stay and stop that overflowing and inconstant lubricitie which it hath; that we be not more undiscreet and foolish beasts than geese are, who when they be to take a flight into Cilicia over the mountaine Taurus, which is full of eagels, take up everie one in their bill a good big stone, which serveth them in stead of a locke or bridle to restraine their gagling; by which devise they may passe all night long without any noise, and not be heard at all or descried by the said eagles.

Now if one should demaund and aske of me, what person of all others is most mischievous and dangerous? I beleeve very well there is no man would name any other but a traitour. And 20 yet Euthycrates (as saith Demosthenes) for his treason covered his owne house with a rouse made of timber that he had out of Macedonie. Philocrates also lived richly and gallant of that great masse of gold and silver, which he had of King Philip for betraying his countrey, and therewith furnished himselfe with brave harlots, gallant concubines, and daintie fishes. Euphor bius also and Philagrus who betraied Eretria, were endowed by the King, with faire lands and possessions: but a pratler is a trasitor voluntarie and for nothing, he demaundeth no hire at all, neither loo­keth he to be solicited, but offereth himselfe and his service; nor betraieth unto the enemies either horses or walles, but revealeth hidden secrets, and [...] speeches which are to bee concealed, whether it be in ju iciall matters of law or in seditious discords, or in managing of State affaires, it makes no matter, and no man conneth him thankes; nay he will thinke him­selfe 30 beholden to others, if they will vouchsafe to give him audience. And therefore, that which is commonly said to a prodigal person, who foolishly mis-spendeth and vainely wasteth his sub­stance he cares not how, to gratifie every man: Thou art not liberal; this is no courtesie; a vice it is rather that thou art disposed unto, thus to take pleasure in nothing, but giving and giving still. The same rebuke and reprehension serveth verie fitly for a babler: Thou art no friend nor well­willer of mine, thus to come and discover these things unto me; this is thy fault, and a disease which thou art sicke of, that lovest to be clattering and hast no mind but of chatting.

Now would I have the Reader to thinke that I write not all this, so much to accuse and blame the vice and maladie of garrulitie, as to cure and heale the same. For by judgement and exercise we surmount and overcome the vices and passions of the minde; but judgement, that is to say, 40 knowledge, must go before: for no man accustometh himselfe to void, and (as it were) to weed them out of the soule, unlesse he hate and detest them first. Now then, and never before, begin we to take an hatred to vices, when by the light of reason we consider and weigh the shame and losse that commeth unto us by them: as for example, we know and see that these great praters, whiles they desire to win love, gaine hatred; thinking to do a pleasure, they displease; looking to be well esteemed, are mocked and derided; they lay for lucre, and get nothing; they hurt their friends, aide their enemies, and undoe themselves.

So then, let this be the first receit and medicine for to cure this maladie; even the considera­tion and reckoning up of the shamefull infamies and painfull inconveniences that proceed and ensue thereof. The second remedy is, to take a survey of the contrary; that is to say, to heare al­waies, 50 to remember and have ready at hand the praises and commendations of silence, the ma­jestie (I say) the mysticall gravitie and holinesse of taciturnitie, to represent alwaies unto our minde and understanding, how much more admired, how much more loved, and how farre wi­ser they are reputed, who speake roundly at once, and in few words, their minde pithily; who in a short and compendious speech comprehend more good matter and substance a great deale, than these great talkers, whose tongues are unbrideled and run at randon. Those (I say) be they whom Plato so highly esteemeth, comparing them to skilfull and well practised Archers and [Page 203] Darters, who have the feat of shooting arrowes and launcing darts; for they know how and when to speake graciously and bitterly, soundly, pithily and compactly. And verily, wise Ly­curgus framed and exercised his citizens immedialy from their child-hood by keeping them downe at the first with silence to this short and sententious kinde of speech, whereby they spake alwaies compendiously, and knit up much in a little. For like as they of Biskay or Celtiberia do make their steele of yron, by enterring it and letting it lie first within the ground, and then by purging and refining it from the grosse, terrene and earthly substance that it hath; even so the Laconians speech hath no outward barke (as a man would say) or crust upon it, but when all the superfluitie there of is taken away, it is steeled (as it were) and tempered, yea, and hath an edge upon it, fit for to worke withall and to pierce: and verily that apophthegmaticall 10 and powerfull speech of theirs, that grace which they had to answere sententiously and with such gravity, together with a quicke and ready gift to meet at every turne with all objections, they at­tained unto by nothing els but by their much silence. Wherefore, it were very expedient to set ever before the eies of these great praters, those short and witty speedhes, that they may see what grace and gravity both, they have: as for example; The Lacedaemonians unto Philip, greeting: Dionysius in Corinth. Also another time, when Philip had written unto them to this effect: If I enter once into the confines of Laconia, I wil destroy you utterly that you shal never rise againe. They returned this answere againe in writing: Alza; that is, If. Likewise when King Demetrius in great displeasure and indignation, cried out aloud in these words: The Lacedaemonians have sent unto me an embassador alone, and who hath no fellow; meaning that there came but one: the said 20 embassador nothing danted at his words, answered readily: One for one. Certes, they that used to speake short and sententiously, were highly esteemed long ago with our ancients & forefathers, And hereupon it was that the Amphyctiones; that is to say, the Deputies or States for the gene­rall counsell of all Greece, gave order, that there should be written over the doore of the Tem­ple of Apollo Pythius, not the Odysee or Ilias of Homer; ne yet the Canticles or Paeans of Pin­darus; but these briefe sentences: [...] that is, Know thy selfe. [...] that is, Too much of nothing. also [...] that is, Be suretie and make account to pay: so high­ly esteemed they a plaine, simple and round manner of speaking, which comprised in few words much matter, and a sentence massie and sound: and no marvell, for Apollo himselfe loveth bre­vitie, and is in his oracles verie succinct and pithy; wherefore els is he surnamed Loxias? but be­cause 30 he chooseth rather to avoide pluralitie than obscuritie of words. They also who without word uttered at all, signifie the conceptions of their minde by certaine symbolicall devises, and after that maner deliver good lessons unto us; are they not sundrie waies commended and ad­mired exceedingly? Thus Heraclitus in times past, being requested by his neighbours and fel­low-citizens, to make a sententious speech unto them, and deliver his opinion as touching civil unitie and concord, mounted up into the pulpit, and taking a cup of cold water in his hand, be­spiced it (as it were) with some meale, and with a sprig or two of the herbe Penniroyall, shooke all together: which done, he dranke it off, and so came downe and went his way: giving them by this demonstration, thus much to understand; that if men would take up with a little and be content with things at hand, without desiring costly superfluities, it were the next way to keepe 40 and preserve cities in peace and concord.

Scylurus a King of the Scythians left behind him fourscore sonnes; and when the houre of his death drew neere, he called for a bundle of darts or a sheafe of arrowes to be brought unto him, which he put into his childrens hands one after another, and willed each one to breake and burst the same in pieces, bound as it was entire and whole together: which when they had as­saied to do, and putting all their strength unto it, could not, but gave over: himselfe tooke out of the sheafe or knitch the darts aforesaid one by one, and knapt them in twaine single as they were with facilitie: declaring by this devise, that so long as they held together, their union and agreement would be strong and invincible; but their discord and disunion would make them seeble, and be an occasion that they should not long continue. He then, that continually shall 50 have these & such like precedents in his mouth, and ordinarily repeat and remember the same, will peradventure take no great pleasure and delight in idle and superfluous words. For mine owne part, surely I am abashed mightily at the example of that domesticall servant at Rome, when I consider with my selfe what a great matter it is to be well advised before a man speaketh, and constantly to hold and maintaine the resolution of any purpose. Publius Piso the great Orator and Rhetorician, because he would provide that his people and servitours about him should not trouble his head with much prattle, gave order and commaundement unto them, [Page 204] that they should make answere unto his demaunds onely, and no more: now being min­ded one day to entertaine Clodius the chiefe ruler of the city at his house, he bad him to supper, and caused him to be sent for and called at the time accordingly; for a stately and royall feast he had provided, by all likelihood, and as any man would thinke no lesse: now when supper time was come, the rest of the invited guests now present, Clodius onely they staied and looked for; meane while, Piso had sent out oftentimes unto him one of his servitours who was woont ordi­narily to bid his guests for to see whether he were c̄oming, or would come to supper or no? but when it grew late in the evening, so that there was no hope now that hee would be there: Now sirrha (quoth Piso to his man aforesaid) didst thou not invite and bid him? Yes iwis Sir: Why then comes he not: said the master againe? Forsooth (quoth he) because he denied to come: 10 And why toldest thou not me this immediately? Because sir, you never asked me the question. Well this was a Romane seruitor; but an Athenian servant I trow whiles he is digging and del­ving, will tell his master newes, and namely, what be the articles and capitulations, in the treaty and composition of peace. So powerfull and forcible is use and custome in all things, whereof I purpose now to treat; for that there is no bit nor bridle that is able to represse, tame, and keepe in a talkative tongue, but it is custome that must do the deed and conquer this maladie.

First and formost therefore, when in companie there shall be any question propounded by them that are about thee, frame and use thy selfe to hold thy tongue and be silent, untill thou see that everie man else refuseth to speake and make answere: for according to Sophocles.

No more verily doeth a voice and an answere shoot at the same marke that running aimeth at: for there, to wir, in a race, he winneth the prize that getreth to be formost; but heere, if another man have delivered a sufficient answere, it will be well enough, by praising and approoving his speech, to gaine the opinion and reputation of a courteous person; if not, then will it not be thought impertinent, neither can envie or hatred come of it, in case a man do gently shew and open that wherein the other was ignorant, and so after a milde and civill maner supply the defect of the former answer: but above all, this regard would be had: That when a question or demand is addressed and directed unto another, we take it not upon our selves; and so anticipate and prevent his answer; and peradventure, neither in this nor in any thing els, is it decent and com­mendable 30 to offer and put forth our selves too forward before we be required; and in this case, when another man is asked a question, our owne intrusion, with the putting by of him is not seemely; for we may be thought (in so doing) both to injurie and discredit the party deman­ded, as if hee were not able to performe that which was put upon him, and also to reproch the demandant, as though hee had little skill and discretion, to aske a thing of him who could not give the same: and that which more is, such malapert boldnesse and heady ha­stinesse in rash answering, importeth (most of all) exceeding arrogancie and presump­tion; for it seemeth, that hee who taketh the answere out of his mouth of whom the questi­on is demanded, would say thus much in effect: What need have wee of him? what can he say unto it? what skill or knowledge hath hee? when I am in place, no man ought to aske any o­ther 40 of these matters, but my selfe only. And yet many times we propose questions unto some, not of any great desire that we have to heare their answeres, but onely because we would finde talke, and minister occasion of discourse, seeking thereby to draw from them some words that may yeeld matter of mirth and pleasant conference: after which sort, Socrates used to provoke Theaetetus and Charmides. To prevent therefore the answere of another, to turne away mens eares, to divert their eies, and draw their cogitations from him to our selves, is as much as if we should run before and make haste to kisse one first, who was minded to be kissed of another, or to enforce him to looke upon us, whose eies were set and fixed upon another; considering, that although the partie unto whom the demand was made, be either not able nor willing to make answer, it were be fitting for a man, after some little pause made, to present himself in all modesty 50 and reverence, & then to frame & accommodate his speech as nere unto that as may be, which he thinketh will content the minde of him that made the demand, and so answere (as it were) in the name of the other: for if they who are demanded a question, make no good & sufficient an­swer, great reason they have to be pardoned and held excused; but he who intrudeth himselfe, & taking the words out of anothers mouth, is ready to speak before he be spoken unto, by good right is odious, although he answer otherwise sufficiently; but if he faile, and make no good an­swere, certes he maketh himselfe, ridiculous, and a very laughing stocke to the whole company.

[Page 205] The second point of exercise and meditation, is in a mans owne particular answeres, where­in he ought especially to be carefull and take heed who is given to over-much talke, to the end that they who would provoke him to speake, and all to make themselves merry and to laugh at him, may well know that he answereth not he knowes not what inconsiderately, but with good advice and seriously to the point: for such there be in the world, who for no need at all, but only for to passe time in mirth, devise certeine questions for the nonce, and in that maner propound them to such persons for no other end, but to provoke them to prattle; and therefore they ought to have a good eie and regard before them, not to leape out and runne all on a sudden hastily to their answere, as if they were well pleased and beholden unto them for to have such an occasion of speech; but with mature deliberation to consider the nature and behaviour of him that put­teth 10 out the question, together with the necessitie thereof, and the profit that may ensue there­by; and if it appeare indeed, that the partie be in good earnest, and desirous to learne and be in­structed, then he must accustome himselfe to represse his tongue and take some pause, allowing a competent space of time betweene the demand and the answere; during which silence, both the demander may have while to bethinke himselfe and adde somewhat thereto, if he list, and al­so the demandé time to thinke of an answere, and not let his tongue runne before his wit, and so huddle up a confused answere before the question be fully propounded: for often-times it fal­leth out, that for very haste they take no heed of those things which were demanded, but answere kim kam, and one thing for another. True it is (I must needs say) that Pythia the priestresse of Apolloes temple, is woont to give answere by oracle at the same instant that the question is de­manded, 20 yea, and often-times before it be asked; for why? the god whom she serveth

but among men, he that would wisely and to the purpose answere, ought to stay untill he con­ceive the thought, and fully understand the intent of him that proposeth a question, lest that be­fall unto him which is said in the common proverbe:

and otherwise also, if that incōvenience were not, yet are we to bridle this lavish & hastie tongue of ours, and restraine the inordinate and hungry appetite which we have to be talking; lest it be 30 thought that we had a fluxe (as it were) of humours gathered a long time about the tongue, and growen into an impostume, which wee are very well content should be let out, and have issue made by a question tendered unto us, and so by that meanes be discharged thereof. Socrates was woont in this maner to restraine and represse his thirst, after that he had enchafed his body and set himselfe into an heat, either by wrestling, or running, or such like exercises; he would not permit himselfe to drinke before he had powred out the first bucket of water that he had drawen out of the pit or well, acquainting this his sensuall appetite to attend the fit and convenient time that reason appointed.

Moreover, this would be noted, that there be three kinds of answeres unto interrogations; the first necessarie, the second civill, and the third needlesse and supersluous: as for example: If 40 one should aske whether Socrates be within or no; he that is unwilling or not ready and forward with his tongue, would make answere and say: He is not within, but if he be disposed to laco­nize a little, and speake more briefe, he would leave out the word (within) and say: He is not; or yet more short than so, pronouncing onely the negative Adverbe, and saying no more but No. Thus the Lacedaemonians dealt once by Philip; for when he had dispatched his letters unto thē to this effect; To know whether they would receive him into their city or no: they wrote backe againe, in faire great capitall letters, within a sheet of paper, no more but O Y, that is to say, No: & so sent it unto him: but he that would make answer to the former question of Socrates a little more civilly and courteously, would say thus: He is not within sir, for he is gone to the banke or exchange; & to give yet a somwhat better measure, he might perhaps adde moreover & say; He 50 looketh there for cerreine strangers and friends of his. But a vaine prating fellow, and one that loves many words, especially if his hap hath beene to read the booke of Antimachus the Colo­phonian, wil make answer to the demand afore said in this wise: He is not within sir, gone he is to the Burse or Exchange, for there he expecteth certeine strangers out of Ionia, of whom and in whose behalfe Alcibiades wrote unto him, who now maketh his abode within the citie of Mile­tus, sojourneth with Tissaphernes, one of the lieutenants generall of the great King of Persia; who before time was in league with the Lacedaemonians, stood their friend, and sent them aid; [Page 206] but not for the love of Alcibiades, he is turned from them and is sided with the Athenians: for Alcibtades being desirous to returne into his owne country, hath prevailed so much that hee hath altered Tissaphernes his minde, and drawen him away from our part: and thus shall you have him rehearse in good earnest the whole eight booke (in maner) of Thucydides his story, un­till he have overwhelmed a man with a multitude of narrations, and made him beleeve that in Miletus there is some great sedition; that it is ready to be lost, and Alcibiades to be banished a second time. Herein then ought a man principally to set his foote and stay his overmuch lan­guage, so as the center and circumference of the answer be that, which he who maketh the de­maund desireth and hath need to know. Carneades before he had any great name, disputed one day in the publike schooles and place appointed for exercise: Unto whom the master or 10 president of the place sent before hand, and gave him warning to moderate his voice (for hee spake naturally exceeding big and loud, so as the schooles rung againe therewith:) Give men then (quoth he) a gage and measure for my voice; upon whom the said master replied thus not unproperly: Let him that disputeth with thee be the measure and rule to moderate thy voice by; even so a man may in this case say: The measure that hee ought to keepe who answereth, is the very will and minde of him that proposeth the question. Moreover, like as Socrates forbad those meats which drew men on to eare when they are not hungry; and likewise those drinkes which caused them to drinke who are not a thirst, even so should a man who is given to much prattle, be afraid of those discourses wherein he delighteth most, and which he is woont to use and take greatest pleasure in; and in case hee perceive them to run willingly upon him for to 20 withstand the same, and not give them interteinment. As for example, martiall men and warriours love to discourse and tell of battels; which is the reason that the Poët Homer bringeth in Hector, ra­ther as some [...] . Nestor eftsoones recounting his owne prowesse and feats of armes: and ordinarie it is with thē who in iudiciall trials have had the upper hand of their adversaries, or who beyond the hope and opinion of everie man have obteined grace and favour with kings and princes, to be sub­ject unto this maladie that evermore followeth them, namely to report and recount eftsoones the maner how they came in place; after what sort they were brought in; the order of their plea­ding; how they argued the case; how they convinced their accusers, & overthrew their adversa­ries; last of all, how they were praised and commended: for to say a truth, joy and mirth is much more talkative than that olde Agryppina which the Poets doe feigne and devise in their comae­dies: 30 for it rouseth and stirreth up, it reneweth and refresheth it selfe ever & anon, with many dis­courses and narrations; whereupon ready they are to fall into such speeches upon every light and colourable occasion: for not onely is it true which the common proverbe saith:

but also joy and contentment draweth unto it the voice, it leadeth the tongue alwaies about with it, and is evermore willing to be remembred and related. Thus we see that amorous lovers passe the greater part of their time in rehearsing certeine words which may renew the remem­brance of their loves, insomuch that if they cannot meet with one person or other to relate the same unto, they will devise and talke of them with such things as have neither sense nor life: like 40 as we read of one who brake foorth into these words:

And verily a busie prater is altogether (as one would say) a white line or strake in regard of all words, to wit, without discretion he speaketh indifferently of all matters; howbeit if he be affec­ted more to some than to others, he ought to take heed thereof, and absteine from them; he is (I say) to withdraw and writhe him els from thence; for that by reason of the contentment which he may therein take, and the pleasure that he receiveth thereby, they may lead him wide & carie 50 him every while very farre out of the way: the same inclination to overshoot themselves in pra­ting, they finde also when they discourse of those matters wherein they suppose themselves to have better experience, and a more excellent habit than others: such an one I say being a selfe lover and ambitious withall,

As for example in histories if he hath read much, in artificiall stile and couching of his words, [Page 207] he that is a Grammarian; in relation of strange reports and newes, who hath bene a great trauel­ler and wandred through many forren countries: hereof therefore great heed would bee taken; for garrulitie being therein fleshed and baited, willingly runneth to the old and usuall haunt, like as every beast seeketh out the ordinary and accustomed pasture. And in this point was the young prince Cyrus of a woonderfull and excellent nature, who would never chalenge his play­fellowes and consorts in age unto any exercise wherein he knew himselfe to be superior, and to surpasse, but alwaies to such feats wherein he was lesse practised than they; which he did aswell because he would not grieve their hearts in winning the prize from them, as also for that he would profit thereby, and learne to doe that wherein hee was more raw and unready than they. But a talkative fellow contrariwise, if there be a matter proposed whereby he may heare and 10 learne somewhat that he knew not before, rejecteth and refuseth it; he cannot for his life hold his tongue and keepe silence a little while, to gaine thereby some hire and reward, but casting and rolling his thought round about, he never rests untill he light upon some old ragged rapso­dies and overworne discourses, which hee hath patched and tacked together a thousand times. Such a one there was among us, who hapned by chance so have perused two or three bookes of Ephorus; whereby he tooke himselfe to be so great a clearke and so well read, that he wearied everie mans eares who heard him talke; there was no assembly nor feast unto which he came, but he would force the companie to arise and depart with his unmeasurable prating of the bat­tel of Leuctres, and the occurrents that ensued therupon, insomuch as he got himself a by-name, and everie man called him Epaminondas. But this is the least inconvenience of all others that 20 followeth this infirmitie of much babling: and surely one good meanes it is to the cure thereof; To turne the same from other matters to such as these: for thereby shall their tongue be lesse troublesome and offensive, when it passeth the bonds in the tearmes onely of litterature.

Over and besides, for the remedie of this their disease, they shall do well to inure and accu­stome themselves to write somewhat, and to dispute of questions apart. Thus did Antipater the Stoick, who as it may be thought, being not able nor willing to hold out in disputation hand to hand with Carneades, who with a violent streame (as it were) of his forcible wit and eloquence refused the sect of the Stoicks, answered the said Carneades by writing, and filled whole bookes with contradictorie assertions and arguments against him; insomuch as thereupon he was sur­named Calamoboas, which is as much to say, as the lustie Crier with his pen: and so by all likeli­hood 30 this manner of fighting with a shadow and lowd exclaiming in secret, and apart by them­selves, training these stout praters everie day by little and little from the frequencie and multi­tude of people, may make them in the end more sociable and fitter for companie. Thus curst curres after they have spent and discharged their choler and anger upon the cudgels or stones which have beene throwen at them, become thereby more gentle and tractable to men. But above all, it were verie expedient and profitable for them to be alwaies neere unto personages for yeeres elder, and in authoritie greater than themselves, and with those to converse; for the reverent regard and feare that they have in respect of their dignitie and gravitie, may induce and direct them in time and by custome to keepe silence; and evermore among those exercises heretofore by us specified, this advisement would be mingled and interlaced; That when we are 40 about to speake, and that words be readie to runne out of our mouth, we say thus unto our selves by way of reasoning: What manner of speech is this that is so urgent and presseth so hard to be gone? What ailes my tongue, that it is so willing to be walking? What good may come by the utterance thereof? What harme may ensue by concealing it in and holding my peace? For we must not thinke that our words be like an heavy burden over-loading us, and whereof we should thinke our selves well eased when we are discharged of them: for speech remaineth still as well when it is uttered as before: but men ought to speake, either in the behalfe of themselves when they stand in need of some thing, or to benefit others, or else to pleasure and recreat one ano­ther by pleasant devises and discourses, (as it were) with salt to mittigate the painefull travels in actions and worldly affaires, or rather to make the same more savorie whiles we are employed 50 therein. Now if a speech be neither profitable to him that delivereth it, nor necessarie for him that heareth it, ne yet carrie therewith any grace or pleasure; what need is there that it should be uttered? For surely, a man may as soone speake a word in vaine, as do a thing to no purpose. But above and after all other good advertisements in this case, we ought alwaies to have in rea­dinesse and remembrance this wise saying of Simonides: A man (quoth he) may repent many a time for words spoken, but never for a word kept in: this also we must thinke: That exercise is all in all, and a matter of that moment and efficacie, that it is able to master and conquer everie [Page 208] thing: considering that men will take great paines and be carefull; yea they will endure much sorrow for to be rid of an old cough; to chase away the troublesome yex or hicket. Besides, Taciturnitie hath not onely this one faire propertie and good vertue, that (as Hippocrates saith) It never breedeth thirst; but also that it engendreth no paine, no griefe nor displeasure, neither is any man bound to render an account thereof. 10

OF AVARICE OR Covetousnesse.

HIppomachus, a great master of wrestling & such exercises of the bo­die, hearing some to praise a certeine tall man, high of stature, and having long armes and handes, commending him for a singular champion, and fit to fight at buffets: A proper fellow hee were (quoth he) if the garland or prize of the victory were hung on high, 10 for to be reached with the hand; semblably it may be said unto them who esteeme so highly and repute it a great felicitie to be pos­sessed of much faire lands, to have many great and stately houses, to be furnished with mighty masses and summes of money, in case feli­city were to be bought and solde for coine. And yet a man shall see many in the world, chuse rather to be rich and wretched withall, than to give their silver for to be happy and blessed: but surely it is not silver nor golde that can purchase either repose of spi­rit void of griefe and anguish, or magnanimity, ne yet setled constancie and resolution, confi­dence and suffisance, or contentment with our owne estate. Be a man never so rich, he can not skill thereby to contemne riches, no more than the possession of more than enough worketh 20 this in us; That we want not still, and desire even things that be superfluous. What other evill and maladie then doeth our wealth and riches rid us from, if it delivereth us not from avarice? By drinke men quench their thirst, by meat they slake their hunger. And he that said:

if there were many clothes hung or cast upon him, would be offended therewith and fling them from him; but this their strong desire and love of money, it is neither silver nor gold that is able to quench: and let a man have never so much, yet he coveteth neverthelesse to have more still. And well it may be verified of riches which one said sometime to an ignorant and deceitfull Physician: 30

For riches verily, after that men have once met therewith, (wheras before they stood in need of bread, of a competenthouse to put in their heads, of meane comment and any viands that come next hand) fill them now with an impatient desire of golde, silver, ivory, emerauds, horses and hounds, changing and transporting their naturall appetite of things needfull and necessarie, into a disordinate lust to things dangerous, rare, hard to be gotten, and unprofitable when they be had. For never is any man poore in regard of such things as suffice nature; never doeth he take up money upon usurie, for to buy himselfe meat, cheese, bread or olives; but one indebteth himselfe for to build a sumptuous and stately house; another runnes in debt, because he would 40 purchase a grove of olive trees that joineth to his owne land; one is engaged deeply in the usu­rers books, by laying corne-grounds and wheat-fields to his owne demaines, another, because he would be possessed of fruitfull vineyards; some are endebted with buying mules of Galatia, and others, because they would be masters

have cast themselves into the bottomlesse gulfe of obligations, conditions, covenants, interests, statutes, reall gages & pawnes: and afterwards it commeth to passe, that like as they who drinke 50 when they be not drie, & eat without a stomacke, many times cast up by vomit, even that which they did eat & drinke when they were hungry & thirsty; even so, when they will needs have such things as be superfluous and to no use, doe not enjoy the benefit of those things that are need­full and necessarie indeed. Lo what kinde of people these be!

As for those who are at no cost, nor will lay out any thing, and notwithstanding they have much, yet ever covet more; a man may rather marvell and woonder at them, if he would but re­member that which Aristippus was woont to say: He that eateth much (quoth he) and drinketh [Page 210] likewise much, and is never satisfied nor full, goeth to the Physicians, asketh their opinion what his disease and strange indisposition of the body might be, and withall craveth their counsell for the cure and remedie thereof: but if one who hath five faire bedsteds already with the furni­ture thereto belonging, and seeketh to make them ten; and having ten tables with their cup­boords of plate, will needs buy ten more; and for all that he is possessed of faire manours and goodly lands, have his bags and coffers full of money, is never the better satisfied, but still ga­peth after more, breaketh his sleeps, devising and casting as he lieth awake, how to compasse the same, and when he hath all, yet is he not full; such an one (I say) never thinks that he hath need of a Physician to cure his maladie or to discourse unto him, from what cause all this doth pro­deod. And verily a man may looke, that of those who are thirsty ordinarily, and he that hath 10 not drunke, will be delivered of his thrist so soone as he meeteth with drinke; but in case such an one as evermore drinketh and powreth in still, never giving over, yet neverthelesse continu­eth drie and thirstie, we judge him to have no need of repletion, but rather of purging and eva­cuation; him (I say) we appoint for to vomit, as being not troubled and distempered upon any want, but with some extraordinary heat or unkinde acrimonies of humours that be within him; even so it is with those that seeke to get and gather goods: he that is bare and poore in deed, will haply give over seeking so soone as he hath got him an house to dwell in, or found some trea­sure, or met with a good friend to helpe him to a summe of money to make cleere with the usu­rer, and to be crossed out of his booke: but he that hath already more than enough and suffici­ent, and yet craveth more, surely it is neither golde nor silver that will cure him, neither hor­ses, 20 nor sheepe, nor yet beeves will serve his turne; need had he of purgation and evacuation, for povertie is not his disease, but covetousnesse and an unsatiable desire of riches, proceeding from false judgement and a corrupt opinion that he hath, which if a man do not rid away out of his mind, as a winding gulfe or whirle-poole that is crosse and overthwart in their way, they will never cease to hunt after superfluities, and seeme to stand in need thereof (that is to say) to co­vet those things which they know not what to doe with. When a Physitian commeth into the chamber of a patient, whom he findeth lying along in his bed groaning, and resusing all foode, he taketh him by the hand, feeleth his pulse, asketh him certaine questions, and finding that he hath no ague; This is a disease (quoth he) of the minde, and so goeth his way; even so, when we see a worldly minded man altogether set upon his gets and gaines, pining away, and even 30 consumed with the greedie worme of gathering good, weeping, whining and sighing at expen­ses, and when any money is to goe out of his purse, sticking at no paine and trouble, sparing for no indignitie, no unhonest and indirect meanes whatsoever, nor caring which way he goes to worke, whether it bee by booke or crooke, so that hee may gaine and profit thereby; having choise of houses and tenements, lands lying in everie countrey, droves, heards and flockes of cattell, a number of slaves, wardrobes of apparell and clothes of all sorts: what shall we say that this man is sicke of, unlesse it be the poverty of the soule? As for want of money and goods, one friend (as Menander saith) may cure and helpe with his bountifull hand; but that penurie and needinesse of the soule all the men in the world, that either live at this day, or ever were be­fore 40 time, are not able to satisfie and suffice: and therefore of such Solon said verie well,

For, those who are wise and of sound judgement are content with that measure and portion which nature hath set downe and assigned for them; such men know an ende, and keepe them­selves within the center and circumference of their need and necessitie onely. But this is a pe­culiar propertie that avarice hath by it selfe. For a covetous desire it is, even repugnant to satie­tie, and hindereth it selfe that it never can have sufficient, whereas all other desires and lusts are aiding and helpfull thereto. For no man (I trow) that is a glutton, forbeareth to eate a good morcel of meat for gourmandise, nor drunkard abstaineth from drinking wine upon an appetite and love that he hath to wine, as these covetous wretches do, who spare their money and wil not 50 touch it, through a desire onely that they have of money. And how can we otherwise thinke, but it were a piteous and lamentable case, yea and a disease next cousin to meere madnesse, if a man should therefore spare the wearing of a garment, because he is readie to chill and quake for cold, or forbeare to touch bread, for that he is almost hunger-starved; and even so not to handle his goods because he loveth them: certes, such a one is in the same plight and piteous perplexitie that Thrasonides was, who in a certaine comedie describeth his owne miseries:

Sophocles being on a time demaunded familiarly by one of his friends, whether he could yet keepe companie with a woman if need were: Godblesse (quoth he) my good friend, talke no more of that I pray you, I am free from those matters long since, and by the benefit of mine 20 olde age, I have escaped the servitude of such violent and furious mistresses. And verily it is a good and gracious gift, that our lusts and appetites should end together with our strength and abilitie, especially in those delights and pleasures, which as Alcaeus saith neither man nor wo­man can well avoide. But this is not to be found in avarice and desire of riches; for shee curst, sharpe and shrewd queane, forceth indeed a man to get and gather, but she forbiddeth him withall to use and enjoy the same; shee stirreth up and provoketh his lust, but shee denieth him all pleasure, I remember that in old time Stratonicus taxed and mocked the Rhodians for their wastfull and superfluous expences in this manner: They build sumptuously (quoth he) as if they were immortall and should never die; but they fare at their boords as though they had but a small while to liue. But these covetous misers gather wealth together like mightie magnificoes, 30 but they spend like beggerly mechanicals; they endure the paine and travell of getting, and taste no pleasure of the enjoying.

Demades the Orator came one day to visite Phocion, and found him at dinner; but seeing but a little meat before him upon the table, and the same nothing fine and daintie, but course and simple: I marvell (quoth he) ô Phociou how you can take up with so short a dinner and so small a pittance, considering the paines you doe endure in mannaging the affaires of State and com­mon-wealth. As for Demades he dealt indeed with government, and was a great man in the city with the people, but it was all for his bellie, and to furnish a plentifull boord, insomuch as, sup­posing that the citie of Athens could not yeeld him revenew and provision sufficient for to maintaine his excessive gourmandise, he laid for cates and victuals out of Macedon, whereupon 40 Antipater when he saw him an old man with a wrinkled and withered face, said pleasantly: That he had nothing left now but his paunch and his tongue, much like unto a sheepe, or some other beast killed for sacrifice when all is eaten besides. But thou most unhappie and wretched miser, who would not make a woonder at thee, condering that thou canst lead so base and beggerly a life, without societie of men or courtesie to thy neighbors, not giving ought to any person, shewing no kindnesse to thy friends, no bountie nor magnificence to the common-wealth, yet still dost afflict thy poore selfe, lie awake all the night long, toile and moile like a drudge and hireling thy selfe, hire other labourers for day-wages, lie in the winde for inheritances, speake men faire in hope to be their heire, and debase thy selfe to all the world, and care not to whom thou cap and knee for gaine, having I say so sufficient meanes otherwise to live at ease (to wit, 50 thy niggardise and pinching parsimonie) whereby thou maist be dispensed for doing just no­thing. It is reported of a certaine Bizantine, who finding an adulterer in bed with his wife, who though she were but foule, yet was ilfavoured enough, said unto him: O miserable caitise what necessitie hath driven thee thus to doe? what needes Sapragoras dowrie? well, goe to: thou takest great paines poore wretch, thou fillest and stirrest the lead, thou kindlest the fire also un­derneath it. Necessarie it is in some sort, that Kings and Princes should seeke for wealth and riches, that these Governours also and Deputies muder them should bee great gatheres, yea and [Page 212] those also who reach at the highest places and aspire to rule and soveraigne dignities in great States and cities; all these (I say) have need perforce to heape up grosse summes of money, to the end that for their ambition, their proud port, pompe, and vaine-glorious humour, they might make sumptuous feasts, give largesses, reteine a guard about their persons, send presents abroad to other States, mainteine and wage whole armies, buie slaves to combat and fight at sharpe to the outtrance: but thou makest thy selfe so much adoo, thou troublest and tormentest both body and minde, living like an oister or a shell-snaile, and for to pinch and spare, art con­tent to undergo and indure all paine and travell, taking no pleasure nor delight in the world af­terwards, no more than the Baine-keepers poore asse which carying billots and fagots of drie brush and sticks to kindle fire and to heat the stouphes, is evermore full of smoake, soot, ashes, 10 and sinders; but hath no benefit at all of the bane, and is never bathed, washed, warmed, rubbed, scoured, and made cleane. Thus much I speake in reproch and disdaine of this miserable asse­like avarice, this base raping and scraping together in maner of ants or pismires.

Now there is another kind of covetousnesse more savage and beast-like, which they prosesse who backbite and slander, raise malicious imputations, forge false wils and testaments, lie in wait for heritages, cogge and cousen, and intermeddle in all matters, will bee seene in everie thing, know all mens states, busie themselves with many cares and troubles, count upon their fingers how many friends they have yet living, and when they have all done, receive no fruition or benefit by all the goods which they have gotten together from all parts, with their cunning casts & subtil shifts. And therefore like as we have in greater hatred and detestation, vipers, the 20 venemous flies Cantharides, and the stinging spiders called Philangia & Tarantale, than either beares or lions, for that they kill folke and stinge them to death; but receive no good or bene­fit at all by them when they are dead; even so be these wretches more odious and woorthy to be hated of us, who by their miserable parsimonie and pinching doe mischiefe, than those who by their riot and wastfulnesse be hurtfull to a common-weale, because they take and catch from others that which they themselves neither will nor know how to use. Whereupon it is that such as these when they have gotten abundance, and are in maner full, rest them for a while, and doe no more violence as it were in time of truce and surcease of hostilitie; much after the maner as Demosthenes said unto them who thought that Demades had giuen over all his lewdnesse and knavery: O (quoth he) you see him now full as lions are, who when they have filled their bel­lies, 30 prey no more for the lice, untill they be hungrie againe: but such covetous wretches as be imploied in government of civill affaires, and that for no profit nor pleasure at all which they in­tend, those I say never rest nor make holiday, they allow themselves no truce nor cessation from gathering & heaping more together still, as being evermore emptie, & have alwaies need of al things though they have all. But some man perhaps will say: These men (I assure you) do save & lay up goods in store for their children and heires after their death, unto whom whiles they live they will part with nothing: If that be so, I can compare them very well to those mice and cats in gold mines, which feed upon the gold-ore, and licke up all the golden sand that the mines yeeld, so that men can not come by the golde there, before they be dead and cut up in maner of anatomies. But tell me (I pray you) wherefore are these so willing to treasure up so much mo­ney, 40 and so great substance, and leave the same to their children, inheritours, and successors af­ter them? I verily beleeve to this end, that those children and heires also of theirs should keepe the same still for others likewise, and so to passe from hand to hand by descent of many degrees; like as earthen conduct-pipes by which water is conveied into some cesterne, withhold and reteine none of all the water that passeth through them, but doe transmit and send all away. from them, ech one to that which is next, and reserve none to themselves; thus doe they untill some arise from without, a meere stranger to the house, one that is a sycophant or very tyrant, who shall cut off this keeper of that great stocke and treasure, and when he hath dispatched and made a hand of him, drive and turne the course of all this wealth and riches out of the usuall cha­nell another way; or at leastwise untill it fall into the hands (as commonly men say it doth) of 50 the most wicked and ungracious imp of that race, who wil disperse and scatter that which others have gathered, who will consume and devour all unthristily, which his predecessors have got­ten and spared wickedly: for not onely as Euripides saith,

but also covetous carles & pinching peni-fathers, leave children behind thē that be loose & rio­tous & spend-thrifts; like as Diogenes by way of mockery said upon a time: That it were better to [Page 213] be a Megarians ram than his sonne: for wherein they would seeme to instruct and informe their children, they spoile and mar them cleane, ingrafting into their hearts a desire and love of mo­ney, teaching them to be covetous and base minded pinch-penies, laying the foundation (as it were) in their heires of some strong place or fort, wherein they may surely guard and keepe their inheritance. And what good lessons and precepts be these which they teach them: Gaine and spare, my sonne, get and save; thinke with thy selfe and make thine account that thou shalt be esteemed in the world according to thy wealth and not otherwise. But surely this not to in­struct a childe, but rather to knit up fast or sow up the mouth of a purse that it may hold and keepe the better whatsoever is put into it. This onely is the difference that a purse or money­bag becommeth foule, sullied and ill-savoring after that silver is put it; but the children of 10 covetous persons before they receive their patrimonies or atteine to any riches, are filled alrea­die even by their fathers with avarice, and a hungrie desire after their substance: and verily such children thus nourtred, reward their parents againe for their schooling with a condigne sa­larie and recompense, in that they love them not because they shall receive much one day by them, but hate them rather for that they have nothing from them in present possession alreadie, for having learned this lesson of them; To esteeme nothing in the world in comparison of wealth and riches, and to aime at nought els in the whole course of their life, but to gather a deale of goods together, they repute the lives of their parents to be a blocke in their way, they wish in heart that their heads were well laid, they do what they can to shorten their lives, making this reckoning; That how much time is added to their olde age, so much they lose of their 20 youthfull yeeres. And this is the reason, why during the life of their fathers, secretly and un­der-hand they steale (after a sort, by snatches) their pleasure, and enjoy the same; They wil make semblance as if it came from other, when they give away money and distribute it among their friends, or otherwise spend it in their delights; whiles they catch it privily from under the very wing of their parents, and when they goe to heare and take out their lessons, they will be sure to picke their purses if they can, before they goe away; but after their parents be dead and gone, when they have gotten into their hands the keies of their coffers and signets of their bags, then the case is altered, and they enter into another course and fashion of life: you shall have my yoong masters then, put on a grave and austere countenance, they will not seeme to laugh, nor be spoken to, or acquainted with any body; there is no talke now of anointing the body for any 30 exercise, the racket is cast aside, the tennis court no more haunted, no wrestling practised, no going to the schooles either of the Academie or Lycene, to heare the lectures and disputations of Professors and Philosophers. But now the officers and servants be called to audit and ac­count; now they are examined what they have under their hands; now the writings, billes, obli­gations and deeds are sought up and perused; now they fall to argue and reason with their recei­vers, stewards, factours and debters; so sharpe-set they are to their negotiations and affaires; so full of cares and businesse, that they have no leasure to take their dinners or noone-meales; and if they sup, they can not intend to go into the baine or hot-house before it be late in the night; the bodily exercises wherein they were brought up and trained in, be laid downe; no swimming nor bathing any more in the river Dirce; all such matters be cast behinde and cleane forgotten. 40 Now if a man say to one of these: Will you go and heare such Philosopher reade a lecture, or make a sermon: How can I go? (will he say againe) I have no while since my fathers death. O miserable and wretched man, what hath hee left unto thee of all his goods, comparable to that which he hath bereaved thee of, to wit; Repose and Libertie: but it is not thy father so much, as his riches flowing round about thee, that environeth and compasseth thee so, as it hath gotten the masterie thee; this hath set foot upon thy throat, this hath conquered thee; like unto that shrewd wife in Hesiodus,

causing thy soule (as it were) to be full of rivels and hoarie haires before time, bringing with it carking cares and tedious travels proceeding from the love of money, and a world of affaires without any repose, whereby that alacrity, cheerefulnesse, worship and sociable courtesie which ought to be in a man, are decayed and faded cleane to nothing.

But what meane you sir by all this? (will some one haply say unto me) See you not how there be some that bestow their wealth liberally with credit and reputation? unto whom I answere [Page 214] thus: Have you never heard what Aristotle said: That as some there are who have no use at all of their goods, so there be others who abuse the same; as if he should say: Neither the one nor other was seemely and as it ought to be: for as those get neither profit nor honour by their ri­ches, so these susteine losse and shame thereby. But let us consider a little what is the use of these riches which are thus much esteemed: Is it not (I pray you) to have those things which are ne­cessary for nature? but these who are so rich and wealthy above the rest, what have they more to content nature, than those who live in a meane and competent estate? Certes, riches (as Theo­phrastus saith) is not so great a matter that wee should love and admire it so much, if it be true that Callias the wealthiest person in all Athens, and Ismenias the richest citizen of Thebes, use the same things that Socrates and Epaminondas did. For like as Agathon banished the flute, cornet, 10 and such other pipes from the solemne feasts of men, and sent them to women in their solemni­ties, supposing that the discourses of men who are present at the table are sufficient to enterteine mirth; euen so may he aswell rid away out ofhouses, hangings, coverlets and carpets of purple, costly and sumptuous tables, and all such superfluities, who seeth that the great rich worldlings use the very same that poorer men do. I would not as Hesiodus saith;

but rather that these goldsmiths, turners, gravers, perfumers and cooks would be chased and sent 20 away, forasmuch as this were indeed, an honest and civill banishment of unprofitable artificers as forreiners, that may be spared out of a citty. Now if it be so, that things requisite for the necessitie of nature, be common aswell to the poore as the rich, and that riches doe vaunt and stand so much upon nothing els but superfluities, and that Scopas the Thessalian is worthily cō ­mended in this; That being requested to give away and part with somwhat of his houshold stuffe which he might spare and had no need of: Why (quoth he) in what things els consisteth the feli­citie of those who are reputed happie and fortunate in this world above other men, but in these supersluities that you seeme to aske at my hands, and not in such as be necessarie and requisite? If it be so I say, see that you be not like unto him that praiseth a pompe and solemne shew of plaies and games more than life indeed, which standeth upon things necessary. The procession 30 and solemnitie of the Bacchanales which was exhibited in our countrey, was woont in old time to be performed after a plaine and homely manner, merily and with great joy: You should have seene there one carying a little barrell of wine, another a branch of a vine tree; after him comes one drawing and plucking after him a goate; then followeth another with a basket of dried figs; and last of all one that bare in shew Phallus, that is to say, the resemblance of the genitall member of a man: but now adaies all these ceremonies are despised, neglected, and in maner not at all to be seene, such a traine there is of those that carie vessels of gold and silver, so many sumptuous and costly robes, such stately chariots richly set out are driven & drawen with brave steeds most gallantly dight, besides the pageants, dumbe-shewes and maskes, that they hide and obscure the auncient and true pompe according to the first institution; and even 40 so it is in riches; the things that be necessarie and serve for use and profit, are overwhelmed and covered with needlesse toies and superfluous vanities, & I assure you the most part of us be like unto young Telemachus, who for want of knowledge and experience, or rather indeed for de­fault of judgement and discretion when hee beheld Nestors house furnished with beds, tables, hangings, tapistrie, apparell, and well provided also of sweete and pleasant wines, never reckoned the master of the house happie for having so good provision of such necessarie and profitable things: but being in Menelaus his house, and seeing there store of Ivorie, gold, and silver, and the mettall Electrum, he was ravished and in an ecstasie with admiration thereof, and brake out in these words:

[Page 215] But Socrates or Diogenes would have said thus rather:

And what saiest thou foolish and vaine sot as thou art? Where as thou shouldest have taken from thy verie wife her purple, her jewels and gaudie ornaments, to the end that shee might no more long for such superfluitie, nor runne a nodding after forrein vanities, farre fetcht and deere bought; doest thou conrrariwise embellish and adorne thy house, like a theatre, scaffold and stage to make a goodly sight for those that come into the Shew-place? Loe wherein lieth 10 the felicitie and happines that riches bringeth, making a trim shew before those, who gaze up­on them, and to testifie and report to others what they have seene: set this aside (that they be not shewed to all the world) there is nothing at all therein to reckon. But it is not so with tem­perance, with philosophie, with the true knowledge of the gods, so farre foorth as is meete and behoovefull to be knowen, for these are the same still and all one, although everie man attaine not thereto but all others be ignorant thereof. This pietie (I say) and religion hath alwaies a great light of her owne and resplendant beames proper to it selfe, wherewith it doth shine in the soule, evermore accompanied with a certaine joy that never ceaseth to take contentment in her owne good within, whether any one see it or no, whether it bee unknowen to gods and men or no, it skilleth not. Of this kinde and nature is vertue indeed, and trueth, the beautie also 20 of the Mathematicall sciences, to wit, Geometrie and Astrologie; unto which who will thinke that the gorgeous trappings and capparisons, the brooches, collars and carkans of riches are any waies comparable, which (to say a truth) are no better than jewels and ornaments good to trim yoong brides and set out maidens for to be seene and looked at? For riches, if no man doe regard, behold, and set their eies on them (to say a trueth) is a blinde thing of it selfe, and sendeth no light at all nor raies from it; for certainely say: That a rich man dine and sup privately alone, or with his wife and some inward and familiar friends, he troubleth not himselfe about furni­shing of his table with many services, daintiedishes, and festivall fare; he stands not so much upon his golden cups and goblets, but useth those things that be ordinarie, which goe about everie daie and come next hand, as well vessell as viands; his wife sits by his side and beares him 30 companie, not decked and hung with jewels and spangles of gold, not arraied in purple, but in plaine attire and simply clad; but when he makes a feast (that is to say) sets out a theater, wherein the pompes and shewes are to meet and make a jangling noise together, when the plaies are to be represented of his riches, and the solemne traine therof to be brought in place; then comes abroad his brave furniture indeed; then he fetcheth out of the ship his faire chaufers and good­ly pots; then bringeth hee foorth his rich three-footed tables; then come abroad the lampes, candlesticks, and branches of silver; the lights are disposed in order about the cups; the cup­bearers, skinkers and tasters are changed; all places are newly dight and covered; all things are then stirred and remooved that saw no sunne long before; the silver plate, the golden vessels, and those that be set and enriched with pretious stones; to conclude, now 40 there is no shew els but of riches; at such a time they confesse them­selves and will be knowen wealthy. But all this while whe­ther a rich man suppe alone, or make a feast, temperance is away and true contentment. 50