THE WORKES OF LVCIUS …

THE WORKES OF LVCIUS ANNAEVS SENECA, Both Morrall and Naturall.

CONTAINING,

  • 1. His Bookes of Benefites.
  • 2. His Epistles.
  • 3. His Booke of Prouidence.
  • 4. Three Bookes of Anger.
  • 5. Two Bookes of Clemencie.
  • 6. His Booke of a Blessed Life.
  • 7. His Booke of the Tranquilitie of the minde.
  • 8. His Booke of the Constancie of a Wiseman.
  • 9. His Booke of the Shortnesse of Life.
  • 10. Two Bookes of Consolation to MARTIA.
  • 11. Three Bookes of Consolation to HELVIA.
  • 12. His Booke of Consolation to POLIBIVS.
  • 13. His seuen Bookes of Naturall Questions.

Translated by THO. LODGE, D. in Physicke.

LONDON Printed by William Stansby. 1614.

ILLVSTRISSIMO HEROI, AC DOMINO SVO OBSER­VANDISSIMO, D. THOMAE EGERTONO, DOMINO DE ELLISMERE, SVMMO AN­GLIAE CANCELLARIO, MAIESTATIS REGIAE à Secretioribus Concilijs omni virtutum genere ac Doctrina Clarissimo, Almae Academiae OXONIENSIS Cancellario, bonorum (que) studiorum omnium Moe [...]enati praestantissimo, THOMAS LODGE Doctor Medicus, Salutem.

CVi potius liber iste dicari ve­lit, vel ego debeam dedicare quam Honori tuo (vir om­nibus nominibus Honoran­de) deliberanti diu & mul­tum cogitanti, plane non oc­currebat. Etenim cum Phi­losophia ipsa inculta prorsus sit, & ab omnibus neglecta fere, tum si à pleris (que) vt horrida conspuatur, non est sane mirandum: Quo magis veteri quidem debet, ne [Page] temere cuivis sese offerat, ne forte in eos incidisse vi­deatur, qui cuticulam curantes ipsi, nihil admirantur vltra cutem; quorum oculis nihil placet, nisi quod ex­terna specie, & lineamentorum harmonia se commen­det; quorum aures omnia respuunt, nisi quae cum vo­luptate quadam influunt: quod si contingat, quomodo non contemptui apud omnes esset liber is, qui apud eum ipsum quem patronum sibi delegit potissimum, sordescat? Quod si ioculare quiddam & molliusculum in publicum proferendum statuerem, quod voluptate nescio qua, mentes hominum titillaret tantum,

Introrsum turpe & speciosum pelle decora,
(Vt inquit Poeta) non deesset hercle, qui
Fautor vtro (que) meum laudaret pollice ludum,
Nec certe
—Nauibus at (que)
Quadrig [...]s peterem.—
Mihi patronum aliquem
Quoi donem lepidum nouum libellum.

Opprimerer eorum multitudine credo, qui occurre­rent mihi naenijs hisce patrocinaturi: Cum autem res serias tantum tractet author hic noster, id (que) serio; quae tantum ijs arrident, quibus leuiora illa arrident mi­nus; tum eos qui subtiliori quodam oculo, & men­tis, acie, venustatem Philosophiae illam intueri pos­sunt, (quae si corporeis oculis cerneretur, mirabiles a­mores excitaret sui) nescio quod fatum contraxit in compendium. Et certe quamuis eorum numerus tan­tus esset at (que) talis, quorum in sinum hic noster posset tuto Conuolare, vt delectus ipse delectum fere tolle­ret, nescio tamen an cuiquam ex omnibus deberi se [Page] magis agnosceret, quàm Honorituo, qui cum in eam opinionem iam diu veneris, vt inter prudentissimos, & virtute quam maxime excultos, principatum quen­dam tenere videaris; tum etiam ita ad certam autho­ris huius normam vitam direxisse, & momenta offi­ciorum ea perpendisse videris omnia, quae ab ipso in [...]a­piente requiruntur; vt si in eadem tempora incidisses, ille ne praecepta ad exemplum tuum, an tu vitam ad ipsius praecepta conformâ [...]is, esset vehementer du­bitandum. Qua de causa quidem, in spem maximam venit, aditum ipsi apud te patere; quôd ea afferat po­tissimum, quae si tibi placeant, (quod non desperat) nemini quidem à tuae vitae ratione non alienissimo, po­terint displicere.

Quid quod & eum sibi Patronum deligendum censet, qui ipsa authoritate possit eam ab aliorum in­iurijs vindicare! quod cum ita sit, nullius quidem in­iurijs in eo locus erit, quamdiu totus ipsi apud te sue­rit, cuius potentia, & authoritas, cum sit maxima, ta­lem tamen intuemur, vt maiorem indies & auctiorem fieri velimus omnes, qui videmus.

Inter Ajacem, & Vlyssem, litem nonnullam apud Poetas legimus interiectam de Achillis armatura quon­dam, vter indueretur [...] ipsa; de facto non disputo. Poetarum mens ea fuit, vt cum prudentia polleret al­ter & concilio; lacertis alter at (que) robore; apud quem tandem armorum eorum ius resideret, eumne qui pru­dentissime ijs vti posset, an qui robus [...]issime eluceret: quod si ex iure manu consertum vocaret authoritas sa­pientiam, & sapientia authoritatem, ad quem tandem Senecae nostri patrocinium aequius pertineret, haud es­set difficile quidem ad iudicandum. Tu vero vir Ho­norande [Page] cum tanta sis sapientia, vt ab authoritate quan­tumuis maxima vinci non possit, & authoritatem tan­tam nactus es, vt ne sapientiae tuae quamuis eximiae & illustri velit loco cedere, facilè controuersiam [...]anc om­nem dirimes; in quo cum vtrae (que) summae de paritate contendant ad quem patronum potius accurret, quam ad te, qui & propter sapientiam singularem optimè consultum voles libro non insipientissimo, & propter egregiam authoritatem effectum dabis, libro malè ne consulatur (dico confidenter) egregio.

Ad me vero quod attinet (Illustrissime Moecen.) cum multa alia perpulerint, vt te potissimum seligerem sub cuius nomine prodeat hic labor in Seneca transfere [...] ­do meus, tumista inprimis quae dicturus sum. Nem­pe vt ad senem ille de senectute senex, & amicissimus, scripsit ad amicum de amicitia, ita & ego (illud sileo quod quam vellem vt possem attexere) Philosophiae libros hos (quam sapientiam dixere veteres) ad te sa­pientissimum & Philosophorum Oxonij studentium omnium Patronum primarium inprimis statui dedi­candum. Quo quidem in loco non possum illius non meminisse, (quod praetermitti sine scelere nefario non potest) quod (que) grauissimi est instar argumenti, cur tibi vel soli, vel certe potissimum omnium nostrûm qui Oxonienses audimus in gratae mentis testimo­nium, labores & studia inseruiant; qu [...]d per te effe­ctum est fere, vt studijs nostris ibi locus sit, vbi cum flo­ruere maxime, tum maxime eiecta inde voluissent ij, qui minime debuissent: per te vero iam effectum id videmus, vt qui fontes illos limpidissimos conturba­runt, quo minus haustus inde puriores essent, iam tandem aduersum Musarum Alumnos vtcumque [Page] coaxant fortasse, tantum tamen coaxare possint.

De hoc autem ni grati simus omnes, omnium erimus ingratissimi. Quin quod magis me ipsum spectat, illud Cardinale quiddam est, quod cum beneuolentiae erga me tuae vestigia semper vidi non leuiter impressa, mihi nun quam satisfacio ipsi, priusquam tibi (non di­cam satisfaciam de animo erga me tuo) at agnoscam certe quantis nominibus obstrictum me & obaeratum sentiam: quin attexo, ideo tibi lubens dico, quod cum mihi beneuolus semper extiteris, tunc etiam & ab ijs qui ex me emanârunt vtcumque, animo esse non po­teris alieno.

Hac spe fretus (Honorande Maecenas) hosce me­os labores, quales, quales tibi trado in manus, quos ae­qui si consulas, conditione haudquaquam iniqua susceptos existimauero: Deumque rogabo Opt. Max. vt tamdiu nobis te conser­uatum volet, quam-diu te virtutum tuarum minime poeni­tebit.

Dignitatis tuae, Obseruantiss. THO. LODG. D.M.P.

REVERENDISSIMIS DOCTORIBVS, CAETERISQVE IN STADIO LITERARIO OPTIME EXCERCITATIS LECTORIBVS; THO. LODGE D. Medicus Phisicus. Salutem.

CVm nulli magis opprobrijs alios con­scindunt, & lacerant maledictis, quam ij qui in opprobrium ipsi fa­cillime incurrunt; tum plerum (que) id euenit, vt exilis cuiusdam ingenij ipsi sibi conscij, nihil sapere videri se credant aliis, nisi plane desipere se probent; dum ea carpunt omnino, quae non Capiunt. Ex quo euenit, vt nihil egregium ita & excellens in publicum emanarit vnquam, in quod dentes isti mordaces non impege­rint. A quo hominum genere cum ego me facile vindica­re nesciam, apud vos (Viri Doctores doctores (que) p [...]estantis­simi, politioris literaturae alumnos, qui quales erga vos ipsi velitis alios esse, tales estis erga omnes) praefatione vti non­nulla haud absonum fore existimaui, vt rationem consilij de Seneca in nostrum sermonem transmittendo mei, vobis ex­plicem.

[Page]Video autem multis id displicere quidem, id (que) vehemen­ter, quod authores ita Latini transferantur, & in sermo­nem nostrum migrent Anglicum: cum multa alia tum illud inculcantes, iniuriam lite [...]i [...] insignem inuehi, quod ea quae literatorum deberent esse propria, nunc denuo prostituantur & omnibus contrectandā prouulgentur: Qui cum id agunt quid aliud agunt, quam vt nostri ad vnum omnes, a virtu­tum scientia vt profani quidam arceantur, veluta Dianae sacris? De quibus illud est Calimachi [...]. Hi dum a se scientias omnes velut a Chaldaeis dies postulari vo­lunt, quid aliud agunt quam quae ipsi vident vt caeteris om­nibus inuideant? Quae simens eorum fuisset qui ista primo literis mandauerunt, quomodo tandem egregia illa ingenij eorum monumenta ad nostra haec tempora permanare potu­issent? Nec vero nios ille priscis inoleuit, vt cogitata illa sua praeclara caeteris inuiderent, qui per se minus acie va­lerent & ingenio, & ex omnibus certe vix paucos reperias qui vel Graeci Latine, vel Romani Graece scripserint, quo minus suis innotescerent ea quae libri sui praeclara contine­rent: ex quo effectum, id est vt quantum bruta intellectu caeteri, tantum ipsi ingenio caeteros antecesserint. Ne (que) vero non laudare possum Sapientissimum illum apud la­ertium, qui cum de tribus Diis ageret gratias, quod homo esset natus, non brutum; quod vir, non foemina, tertium id erat quod Athemensis esset, non Barbarus; non quod solus inter eos sapere visus est, sed quod ex infinitis vnus es­set, qui non nihil sapere didicisset: Et recte ad Amicum scri­bens M. Tullius monet, vt vbiuis esse malit, quam vbi sit, propterea quod multo rectius illic viuendum sit vbi aliquo numero siet, quam illic vbi solus sapere videatur. Et sane si aequi rerum aestimatores velimus esse, facile quidem inue­niemus excultiores multo nostros, & limatiores quam an­tea [Page] extitisse, ex quo doctrina illa veterum, & historia Ro­manorum vernacula ipsos alloquente lingua perpoliri cae­perunt. Quo in curriculo labores mei cum non nihil desu­darint, tum facti mei tamdiu me non paenitebit, quamdiu publicae vtilitati & honori patriae inseruire intellexero: & quanquam omnes reclamantes videro Comici, tamen illo me facile consolabor & recreabo, quod nihil in animo magis habeam, quam vt pluribus prosim.

Quin illud fortasse non recte quod [...] occurrunt Se­necae nonnulla, quae celari multo possunt honestius, quam in apricum protrudi, lucem non ferentia; & male locatā ope­ram eam omnem clamabunt omnes, quae in re non bona. Ha­bet etiam [...] quā plurima, quae si recte ediscantur nihil illa nocebunt: quanquam quid egi? Aut in quo euigilauere curae & cogitationes meae, nisi vt lectorem pro virili praemo­nerem, & ad scopulos eos digitum intenderem, ad quos si adhaeserit fortasse, naufragium illico facturus sit?

Nec vero defuerint ij, qui id vitio mihi vertendum senserint, quod in omnibus non verbum verbo respondeat, quin infidus interpres sit ille necesse est, & vbi fide est opus vel maxime, fideliam adhibebit, qui ita interpretem agere edidiscit. Quin ille rectissime.

Non verbum verbo curabitred dere fidus
Interpres—

Ne poterit quidem; quod tum eo res deducetur, vt dum in verbis se torquebit nimis, sensus interim elabatur omnis. Quis autemita inscius erit, vt illud non intelligat in omni sermone, idiomata loquendi quaedam apparere, & flores elegantiarum, quae si verbis alienis efferantur, illico pro ri­diculis habeantur? Longum esset huc omni [...] conuertere quae salsissime a Latinis dicta, a nostris enuntiata verbis ijs­dem, [Page] appareant insul [...]a. Quò facilius adducor, vt eius omnia sic interpreter, vt quae proprijs verbis enuntiari non possunt, enuntientur quibus possunt aptissimis: Hic ego, si reprehen­sionem incurro iustam, exemplo me consolabor eorum, qui cum in hoc genere palmam ferant, crimen commune mecum sustine bunt, nec nostrorū solum, sed & eorum etiam omnium qui in Hispania, Gallia, Italia communem mecum in eo ge­nere nauarunt operam. Agnosco vero libentissime errata huc irrepsisse nonnulla, quae vt homini cuiuis in summo otio non vigilantissimo, facile possunt obrepere quaedam, ita si mihi in hoc opere frequentiora visum est quā erat aequum, facile ignoscet, qui rem ipsam vt acciderit cognoscet prius. Cum enim primo statuerem ita in hoc opere meam operam posuisse, vt nequid per incuriam elapsum mihi videri possit, in medio operis a me suscepti nescio quomodo in medium re­rum omnium certamen incidi; Praeterquā enimillud quod fratre charissimo pientissimo (que) essem orbatus, ita vt studijs nullus in me locus esset relictus, quem dolor vniuersum oc­cuparat, accidebat id etiam, vt turbis ijs forensibus, & mo­lestijs vndi (que) circumfrementibus opprimerer ita, vt dum illius omnia (iam cum beatis illis incolis agente aeuum) cō ­ponere studeo, ne subcisiuas horas certe mihi relinquo vllas, quibus huic operi iam inchoato supremam manū imponam.

Interim ista dum aguntur annus fere integer elapsus est, &, adhuc tamen.

—pendent opera interrupta minae (que)
Murorumingentes.—

Vt Poetae verbis vtar. Interea fremere Typographus, & de praelo tantum non praelia mouere, quae nactus est typis ex­cudenda curare sed citra curā: hoc modo ad imprimendum solum licentiā fortasse nactus, qui me premit semper nec pensi quid habet, quid imprimat. Quin tandē vt molestijs hisce me [Page] euoluo, colligo me vt possum ex magna iactatione, & dimidiū Senecae alterum quod imperfectum reliquerā, quanta pos­sum absoluo celeritate, nec typographo satisfacio tamen in­hianti suo semper luero, quin quae manus prima coniecit in chartulas, subinde arripit ipsa impressione peiora facta e­missurus, quae prius acceperat omnino non optima, quippe quibus ipsius festinatio praepropera, ad ornanda se melius ne minimum quidem indulsit temporis. Ita fit vt quod mensium nonnullorum opus esse debuerit, diebus haud ita multis ab­solutum prodierit, at (que) vtinam absolutū. Quod si minus con­ceditur, non despero tamen quin per meum dehinc otium quae rudia iam excidere, limentur accuratius, & quae obscu­ritate nonnulla videbuntur laborare, fiant etiam illustriora cum proxime emanabunt.

Obijcient alij (qui reprehensionis ansam vndi (que) arripiēt:) quod versus eius quosdam, vna cum Apocolocynthesi, & E­pistolis quibusdā ad Diuum Paulum exaratis (vt non ne­mo retulit e Patribus) omnino praetermiserim. Sed parcent mihi facile spero, qui prius norint, quibus rationibus addu­ctus, huic ego labori pepercerim: Primo quidem de Apoco­locynthesi cum liber is totus dicterijs in mortem Claudii C [...] ­saris sit refertus ne alienus a se noster Seneca videretur, qui vbi (que) seuerus & grauis, & ab hoc genere quā maxime vide­tur abhorrens, inutili labore potius supersedendum statui, quā ea attexenda, quae labē nonnullam operi toti possent [...]f fricare. De reliquis autem id tantum dico, quod cum autho­ris huius an sint a multis in dubium vocari video, tum an a me sint interpretanda vehementer dubito.

Habetis iam tandem (Doctores & lectores beneuoli) quae ego dicenda habeo, quae si vobis candidioribus arridere perspicero, tum vt iis placeant quibus omnia displicent, ve­hementer non contendo. Valete.

To the Courteous Reader.

IT was well donne by Nature (gentle Reader) to giue time, but ill donne by men not to apprehend the same: How much thou hast lost in life in begetting vanities and nou­rishing them, in applauding follies, and intending them, read heare; and begin now to apprehend this, that it is but lost life, that men liue in entertaining vaine things, & that no time is better spent, thē in studying how to liue, and how to die wel. This shalt thou learne in our Seneca, whose diuine senten­ces, wholsome counsailes, serious exclamations against vices, in being but a Heathen, may make vs ashamed being Christians; when wee consider how backward a course wee haue runne from the right scope, by be­ing buried in vaine readings, besotted with selfe opi­nion, by apprehending vertue no more, but in a sha­dow, which serues for a vaile to couer many vices. It [Page] is lost labour in most men now-a-dayes whatsoeuer they haue studied, except their actions testifie that readings haue amended the ruines of their sicke and intemperate thoughts: and too pregnant a proofe is it, of an age and time ill spent, when as after a man hath summed vp the account of his dayes that are past, hee findeth the remainder of his profites, hee should haue gotten in life, to be eyther ambition vnsatisfied, or dis­solution attended by pouerty, or vaine vnderstanding boulstered by pride, or irksome age called on by sur­fet; I must confesse that (had I effected it) I could haue pickt out eyther an author more curious, or a subiect more pleasing for common eares, to allure and con­tent them. But seeing the worlds Lithargie so farre growne, that it is benummed wholly with false appea­rance, I made choice of this author, whose life was a pattern of continence, whose doctrine a detection and correction of vanities, and whose death a certaine in­stance of constancy. Would God Christians would endeuour to practise his good precepts, to reform their owne in seeing his errours; and perceiuing so great light of learning from a Pagans pen, ayme at the true light of deuotion and pietie, which becommeth Chri­stians. Learne in him these good lessons, and com­mit them to memory, That to be truely vertuous is to be happy, to subdue passion is to be truely a man, to contemne fortune is to conquer her, to foresee and vn­maske miseries in their greatest terrors is to lessen them, to liue well is to be vertuous, and to die well is the way to eternitie. This as often as I thinke vpon, I finde an alteration in my resolution, which hereto­fore hath too long time surfeited vpon time-pleasing; [Page] I am armed against all worldly contempts, wherwith Enuie may pretend to loade mee. My soule and con­science bearing me witnesse that my intent and scope was only to draw men to amendment of life, & to root out vain customes, that are too much ingrafted in this age; What care I for detraction? which rather barketh for custome sake, then baiteth at mee for fiercenesse. No Souldier is counted valiant, that affronteth not his enemie; no Philosopher constant, that contemneth not Fortune; nor writer vnderstanding, that scornes not detraction; I had rather bee condemned for con­firming men in goodnesse, then flattering the world in follie. Gentle Reader for thee I laboured, for thy good haue I made this admirable Roman speake English, if it profit thee I haue my wish, if it displease thee, it is thy want of iudgment. Farewell.

In Momum.

SI tamen vs (que) iuuat quae sunt bona carpere, Mome,
Carpe haec, vt morsu sint meliora tuo.
Quae liber iste tenet forte ignorare videris,
Quin lege, mox fies forsitam ipse bonus.
Non in bicipiti quae vidit somnia narrat,
Parnasso, ant vanis ludit imaginibus:
Nec prius vs (que), nouem nisi quae docuere sorores
Castalis vnda tuae, nil docet iste liber
Vera sed hic rectae promit dictamina vitae,
Et sapiens narrat quae bene dixit anus.
Si malus ista leges, pote [...]int non ista placere
Nec non ista probes, qui legis, ipse bonus:
Vel non ergo legas quae sunt benedicta, pudendis
Nec lacer a verbis, quae minus ipse capis,
Vel lege, nec carpas; vt non male prodita: dentes
Iam (que) tibi gratulor Mome perire tuos.

THE LIFE OF LVCIVS ANNAEVS SENECA, DE­SCRIBED BY IVSTVS LIPSIVS.

CHAP. I. Of his Countrey and Parents.

IT hath beene an olde custome to pub­lish the liues of worthy men, and those whose wisedomes, writings and acti­ons we admire it doth not a little con­tent vs to know such other things as concerned or appertained vnto them. I will therefore speake of Seneca as farre as may be, and will collect and dispose all those things that concerne this mat­ter, both out of himselfe and diuers other writers. It appeareth that he mas borne in Corduba, an olde and flourishing Colony in Andalouzill in Spaine, and besides that, the chiefest in those Re­gions. This doth Strabo testifie in these wordes: Amongst all other Cities of Hispania, Batica, or Andalouzie, Corduba i [...] enlarged both in glorie and power by Marcellus meanes: Lib. 3. as also the Citie of Gaditana, the one by reason of Nauigations, and the societies o [...] the Romanes: the other, because of the goodnesse and greatnesse of the country; the riuer Babs like­wise conferring much hereunto. They praise it, and therewithall proue it to be auncient, because it was Marcellus worke: which of them, was it his that was Praetor, or the other that was Consull? For Marcus Marcellus the Praetor gouerned Spaine, as Pliny testifi­eth [Page] in the yeare of the Citie DLXXXV. although, Lib. 43. as it seemeth, in peace and quietnesse; by which means the rather this Colony of his countrimen was drawne thither, and happily the Ci [...]ie both increased and adorned. For that it was not built anew, it appeares by Siluius, who euen in Hanibals time called it Corduba. I had rather therfore ascribe it to him, then to the Consul Marcell [...]s, who in the yeare DCI gouerned the hither part of Spain, as it appeares in the Epitome, and thou mayest gather out of Appian [...] and ha­uing worthily executed his charge in that place, triumphed Celti­b [...]rs. He had therefore at that time nothing to do with Baetica, or our Corduba, which is in the farther part of Spaine. But Strabo ad­deth more, The most chosen Romanes and Spaniards inhabited this Corduba from the beginning, and into these places did the Romanes send their first Colonie. Note this word Chosen; for it was so indeed: and thereupon afterwards, as I suppose, it obtai­ned this priuiledge, that it was called Colonia Patricia. Pliny te­stifieth it most plainly; Corduba (saith hee) named the Patrician Colonie, and in Augustus stampe of money, Permissu Caesaris Au­gusti, Lib. 3. cap. 1. with his head on the one side, and then on the other side, Co­lonia Patricia. The cause of which title, in my opinion, is, because that being both a faire and a rich Citie, it supplied the Roman [...] Common-wealth with Fathers and Senators. For now in Augu­stus age they made choice of men out of euery Prouince to make vp the Senate. Furthermore, Strabo saith, That the first Colonie was sent thither, which reade thou with circumspection. For Carteia in the same countrey of Bae [...]ica, before this time had a co­lonie planted in it by Lucius Canuleius Praetor: but because they were not of the better sort, it was called Colonia Libertinorum, or the colonie of the Libertines. Thou shalt reade it in Liuy, in the beginning of his 43. booke: yet mayest thou, and happily oughtest thou to defend Strabo, that those inhabitants were not sent from Rome or Italie, but that they were begotten by the Ro­mane souldiers vpon the Spanish women; and by the permission of the Senate the Bastards had their libertie giuen them and were planted in a colonie. But Strabo expresly writeth, that a colonie was sent thither. Enough of Corduba, and this was his countrie; but who were his parents? It appeareth that they were of the An­naean race, whose name seemeth to be giuen them in way of good fortune, ab Annis. The sirname of Seneca likewise was fortunate. For the first, in my iudgment, had this name giuen him, although [Page] Isidore thinke, that hee who was at first so called, was borne grey headed. Vndoubtedly Seneca, or as the Auncients write, Senica: (for Senecis is deriued à Sene) signified [...], as Senecio doth. Let Nonius be seene in Senica. Hereunto I adde that in another kin­dred also I finde this sirname; as in Accia in an ancient stone M. Accio Seneca. Manlio Plauta 11. virg. Quinq. But whether those of the race of Annaea were of the Spanish race, or were sent out of Ita­lie in a Colony, I dare not affirme; this onely I say, that they were of the order of Knights: for so Seneca himselfe speaketh of him­selfe in Tacitus. Lib. 14. Am I he that sprung from the order of knight, and in a prouinciall place, numbred amongst the chiefest Peers of the Citie? Can it be amongst the Nobles, that boast themselues of their long worthinesse and antiquitie, that my noueltie should shine? his father therefore, and happily his grandfather were Knights, and not aboue. For he presently maketh mention of his noueltie; which he would not haue done, if any of his Ancestors had attained vnto honours. But his father was known both by himselfe and his writings, to be Lucius Annaeus Seneca, whom for the most part, they distinguish from the sonne by the title of De­claimer, in which kinde he excelled. Diuers Declamations are ex­tant, which were not his own but another mans, digested by him, which he distinguished by some titles and Annotations, and by this meanes sufficiently expressed his milde & happy wit: he had to wife one Heluia a Spanish Ladie, a woman of great constan­cie and wisedome as her sonne sufficientlie describeth her in his Consolatorie booke vnto her. The father came to Rome in Au­gustus time, and presently after his wife with her children follow­ed him; amongst which was this our Seneca, as yet but verie yong. In that place liued he long, and followed his af [...]airs with the fauor and good report of all men, and I thinke that hee liued till about the later time of Tiberius; and hereunto am I perswaded, because he maketh mention of Seianus conspiracie in his bookes, and of other things that appertaine hereunto. I let him passe, and returne vnto his sonne, of whom I haue intended to speake.

CHAP. II. Of Lucius Annaeus Seneca himselfe and his bre­thren, where he was borne, and when he was brought to Rome.

IN Corduba was he borne, and was translated from thence to Rome when hee was a childe; Co [...]s. ad Hel. cap. 16. which hee himselfe testifieth thus, where hee praiseth his Aunt: By her hands was I brought into the Citie, by her pi­ous and motherly noursing I recouered my selfe after my long sickenesse. If he were carried in her armes, it must needs be that he was but an infant, and thou seest that h [...]e was sicke at that time likewise and was recomforted by her care and diligence. This thinke I hapned in the fifteenth yeare or thereabouts, before Au­gustus de [...]th, the argument whereof i [...] Senecaes young yeares in Ti­berius time, whereof I must speake hereafter. The father therfore not long before that time came to Rome: he had two brothers, and no sisters; which appeareth by his wordes vnto his mother; Thou bu [...]iedst thy dearest husband, by whom thou wert the mo­ther of three children. Ad Hel. c. 2. And these three were M. Annaeus Nouatus, L. Annaeus Seneca, L. Annaeus Mela; all borne in such order as I haue set them downe. This appeareth by the inscriptions of the Con­troue [...]si [...]s, where they are so set down, althogh by their sirnames. But the eldest of these brethren presently changed his name, and was c [...]lled Iunius Gallio, because hee was adopted by him. Which Gallio is oftentimes named by Seneca the father in his declamati­ons, and is called ours, either by reason of their common countrie Spaine, or of that friendship which was betweene them [...] were they not likewise allied and a kin? I know not, yet suspect [...], by reason of this adoption. And this Gall [...]o it is who is called Father by Quintilian and Tacitus likewise, in the sixt of his Chronicles. But this our adopted Gallio in the Eusebian Cronicle is called Iunius Annaeus Gallio, Senecaes brother, and a worthy Decla­mer. Was it by the name of both the Families (which was rare amongst the Auncients; nay more, neuer heard of) that it might appeare into what familie hee entered by adoption, and in what hee was borne by nature? It appeareth mani [...]estly, if the name [Page] and title bee true. He it is to whom our Seneca both sent and wrote his bookes of Wrath, in which he calleth him Nouatus: yet the same man in his title of blessed life calleth he his brother Gallio, and likewi [...]e in his Epistles his Lord Gallio [...] and that honestly as him that was his elder brother. Obserue this therefore that he see­med not to be adopted at such time as his bookes of Anger were written, that is, when Caius was aliue, but afterwards, and that then he changed his sirname: but his yongest brother was Annaeus Mela, so called by Tacitus Dion and Eusebius, who was onely a Ro­mane Knight (for he that was the elder was a Senator) who be­gat Lucan a great accesse to his greatnesse, as Tacitus saith. These therefo [...]e were the three brothers, of whom Martiall witnesseth,

And learned Senecaes house,
That is thrice to be numbred.

He calleth him learned, (I meane, the Orator) his treble-house; his three sonnes called his families.

CHAP. III. His youth, his Masters and studies.

HEe came therfore to Rome when he was a childe, Epist. 113. and in that place ripened he his excellent wit in the best stu­dies: his youth hapned in the beginning of Tiberius gouernment, as he himselfe confesseth, and about that time, when forraine sacrifices were remoued and abolished. This was in the fift yeare of Tiberius, Lib. Annal. 14. in fine. & of that of the Citie Dcclxx [...]. which appeareth manifestly by Tacitus, who writeth, that the sa­crifices of the Egyptians and Iewes were abolished. Seneca there­fore about that time grew to mans estate, & was about som twen­tie or two and twentie yeares olde. For that he was well stept in yeares in Augustus time, hereby it appeareth; because he obserued a Comet or a flame before his departure; Qu [...]st. 1. c. 1. of which he saith [...] We saw before the death of Augustus such a kinde of prodigie, which chil­dren could not so curiously obserue. His father, in my opinion, was he that first instructed him in eloquence [...] & this do his books of Controuersies & their Praefaces testifie. For why shold not this worthy olde man, who both directed & taught others, direct and instruct his owne children in that kinde. Hee did it, and left [Page] two of them most excellent & exercised in eloquence, Gallio, and this our Seneca, for I haue red nothing of Mela. This is that Gallio whom Status commendeth for his sweet discourse.

And thus much more, that from his happy line
He blest the world with Seneca diuine,
And brought to light that Gallio, whose grace
And fluent speech the commons did embrace.

He that was the author of the booke Of the causes of corrupted elo­quence, said, that hee had a certaine resounding and pleasing elo­quence, which he calleth the resounding of Gallio, meaning it by the sonne and not by the father. But our Seneca, besides his e­loquence, addicted himselfe to Philosophie with earnest endeuor, and vertue rauished his most excellent wit, although his father were against it. He himselfe diuers times saith, that hee was with­drawne from Philosophie, and that his wife was shee that dis­swaded him; yea, and that she hated it, hee openly writeth in ano­ther place: yet did the sonnes desire and forwardnesse get the vp­per hand, so that hee diligently and carefully heard the most fa­mous and serious Philosophers of that age, and namely, Attalus the Stoicke, Sotion one of the same sort, although he seemed to fol­low Pythagoras and Papirius Fabius, [...]p [...]st. [...]9. which he names likewise, and praiseth with a g [...]atefull memorie [...] he was Sotions scholler in his yonger yeares, and he writeth, And now, though a childe, I sate and heard Sotion. Moreouer, he admired and honoured Demetrius the Cinique, conuersing oftentimes with him in his elder dayes, and at such time as he serued in Cour [...], both priuately and publiquely. For he made him his companion both in his walks and trauailes. Such was his forwardnesse in honest studies, yet his father broke him off, and in the interim caused him to follow the Courts and to pleade causes: which course, as it appeareth he continued long, yea, euen in Caius time, being greatly fauoured and famed for his eloquence. Epist. 49. Vndoubtedly there are no Philosophicall treatises ex­tant, that were his before that time.

CHAP. IIII. His honours and ciuill life.

HIs father likewise perswaded him to affect gouerne­ment, and to make sute for honours: he therefore first of all was Threa [...]orer, in obtayning which office, hee acknowledgeth what helpes his Aunt had procured him: Cons. ad Hi [...]. cap. 16. She (saith he) tried all her friends in my suite for the Threa­so [...]ership, and she that scarcely would endure to be confer'd with­all, or publikely saluted in my behalfe, ouercame her modestie by her loue towards me. What woman this was, and what husband she had thou shalt learne by my notes: but when he was Threa­sorer I doe not certainly know: for his yeares, it might haue been vnder Tiberius, or it might be vnder Caius, but I intend not to de­fine the matter. This had I rather say, that by Agripinals meanes presently after his exile he got and exercised the Praetorship. For thus saith Tacitus: Agripina got at her husbands hand, not onely a release of Annaeus Senecaes banishment, but also the Praetorship, supposing that it would be pleasing to the common sort by rea­son of the fame of his studie, 12. Annalls. and to the end that Domitius childe­hood might be the better ripened by such a master, and that hee might vse his counsailes, vnder hope to attaine the soueraigntie. Thou see [...]t that hee was suddenly made Praetor, and [...]earest what praises and endowments Tacitus vnfainedly honoureth him with. The loue of the commons was gotten by that meanes. Because Seneca now was accompanied with euery mans good words and fauours, by reason of the excellencie of his studies, and was desi­rous that vnder such and so great a Master, that their Domitius should be brought vp, and should be addressed (and herein note his ciuill prudence) both to obtaine the Empire, and to gouern it. He was therefore Praetor the yeare of the Citie DCCII. and was hee not afterwards Consull? The Law bookes affirme the same to S.C. Trebellian, as Vlpian. In the time of Nero in the Octaues of the Calends of September, when Annaeus Seneca and Trebellius Maximus were Consuls, it was made irreuocable. The same is written in the elements of Iustinians institutions. But they that made our holy [...]daies, make these substitute Consuls (for ordina­rie they were not) the yeare of the Citie DCCCXV. which should [...] [Page] [...] [Page] [Page] be the yeare, and some few moneths before Senecaes death. Some men perhaps will doubt of the whole matter, because Ausonius in his thankesgiuing s [...]ith openly, The rich man Seneca, but yet not Consull [...] Seneca likewise himselfe neuer maketh mention of this honour, although he wrote many Epistles at that time. I answer, for Ausonius it is to be vnderstood, that it seemed to him to bee an ordinarie Consulate; for our Seneca, that a silence is no deniall. Furthermore, [...] adde this likewise, that the Chronicle-makers seem to haue digested their relations badly; for in that yeare vndoubt­edly he was not. For see here in the very beginning of the yeare, how Tacitus maketh mention of his cold entertainement by Ne­ro, Annal. 14. and how his detractors had diuersly iniuried him, and how he himselfe with a confident Oration came vnto the Prince, and de­sired viaticum, and resigned his substance: yet Caesar permitted it not, & yet Seneca from that time forward, as Cornelius saith, chan­geth the prescripts of his former power, forbiddeth intercourse of Courtiers, auoydeth attendants, is sildome seene in the Citie, and as if ouer-tired with sickenes, keepeth himselfe at home, intending onely the studie of wisedome. These are no proper actions of a new made Consull or a Candidate, and his death that followed presently afterwards, forbiddeth vs to consent hereunto. But what was it that learned men suspected thus? That which Taci­tus writeth in that yeare was done by the consent of the Senate, lest a fained adoption should in any sort further a publique Of­fice, & least in vsurping heritages, it should profit. But this apper­taineth nothing to that of Trebellian, it hath another reference: if a man doe examine those things likewise that are in Tacitus. I therefore consent that he was Consull, but in another and a for­mer time, the certaintie whereof I will not set downe. But the perpetuall honour of this man, and how hee was both the teacher and gouernour of a Prince, vndoubtedly worthy as long as he ad­dicted himselfe to his counsailes and admonitions [...] Tacitus con­cealeth not, and nameth two, to whom the Prince was well in­clined for his owne profite. Murthers had preuailed except A [...]ra­nius Burrus and Annaeus Seneca had withstood them. These were the Gouernours of the Emperour in his yonger yeares, and con [...]formed in that equall societie they had in gouernement, and in di­u [...]rs sorts they had equall power. Burrus in his cha [...]ge, in regard of warlike affaires and seueritie in his manners. Seneca in his pre­cepts of eloquence and honest affabilitie [...] assisting one another, [Page] whereby they might more easily restraine the tender yeares of the Prince if he despised vertue, by granting him ple [...]sures [...] O laud [...] ­ble endeuour and consent, which is too ra [...]e in Court, where [...] ­uery one for the most part will desire to be so eminent that he de­sireth no second. But to Seneca.

CHAP. V. His priuate life, his wife, his children, his banishment.

WHether he acted any other thing in publique, I know not; Consola [...]. ad Helu [...]am. cap. 21. but priuately I find, or at least wise I collect, that during his yonger yeares hee was in Egypt vpon this occasion; because his Vncle was P [...]ae [...]ect t [...]ere: for he writeth of his Aunt to his Mother, Shee will shew th [...]e her ex­ample, whereof I was an eye-witnesse. An eye witnesse? he ther­fore associated his Aunt in that Nauigation (of which he speak­eth in that place) when as his Aunt returned from Egypt. And how could this be, except he himselfe likewise had beene in AE­gypt? Vndoubtedly it was thus: and this is the cause why he cu­riously intermixeth many things of AEgypt and Nilus, especially in his bookes of Naturall Questions. Lib. 6. c. 17. Perchance he trau [...]iled out of AEgypt into [...]ndia by the red Sea, and therefore would hee com­ment vpon [...]ndia, vpon that which was written by Pliny. But now he married a wife at Rome, which though it be vncertain to be so, yet the reason he had children do approue it: for he maketh mention of Marcus a wanton lad, with much praise and affection to his mother Heluia: neyther is it to be doubted but that he was his sonne, at least wise his owne verses will approue it, where a­mongst his vowes,

So may yong Marcus, who with pleasing prate
Contents vs now, in eloquent debate,
Prouoke his vncles, though in being yong
In wit, in wisdome, and in fluent tong.

For should I giue way to those who attribute this to Marcus Lu­canus, I finde no reason for it; yet maketh hee no mention o [...] his [Page] former wife: not in these books, I confesse; what then? nor o [...] his brother Annaeus Mela by name, had hee not therefore a brother? Notwithstanding thou art to consider whether thou vnderstand not this by his first wife: Thou knowest that Harpastes my wiues foole remained as an hereditary burthen in my family: 3. de Ira. c. 1. what wife? his first wife? for the books of Anger seem to be written in a place well known to vs. But he married Paulina after his exile, a woman of great Nobility, which, as I tell thee, married him when he was old & powerful in the Court: which very thing Dio likewise, or whatsoeuer he were in Dion, thought good to obiect against Dion; which is, that being s [...]ept in yeares he had married a yong wench. Such were both of them, and Seneca himselfe, testifieth it. This said I to my Paulina which commends my health vnto me: Epist. 104. it came into my mind, that in this old man there is a yong one that is forborn. A yong one? he meanes Paulina her selfe: for vndoub­tedly she loued her husband, as there in many places he boasteth, and that vnfainedly, which she expressed in his death, when in as farre as in her lay, she sought to accompanie his soule with hers. Hereafter we shall see it. And these were his wiues. The rest of his life quiet, and without offence, excepting onely that grieuous accident of his exile. For vnder Claudius the first yeare of his reigne, when Iulia the daughter of Germanicus was accused of a­dulterie (Gods and Goddesses by Messaline?) and was driuen her selfe into banishment: and Seneca, if he had beene one of the adul­terers, was exiled and sent into Corsica; I will not say whether it were vpon a iust cause, I could wish it were not, and happily Ta­citus with me, who when hee speaketh of his banishment. Se­neca was angrie with Claudius, it was supposed by reason of the iniurie that was done him. Note this [...]niurie: hee therefore had receiued some. For who would otherwise be ignorant to inter­prete the accusations of that impudent Ha [...]lot (I meane Messa­line) and that my sonne beast Claudius? For, for the most par [...]e they practised no mischiefe but against good and innocent persons. Hee liued about some eight yeares or thereabouts in exile, I, and constantly too; yea, if wee may beleeue him­selfe, happily intending onely the best st [...]dies, and the wholsom­est meditations. For thus writeth [...]e to his mother; That hee is blessed amongst those things which are wont to make other men wretched. And afterwards (but I pray thee obserue him) he wor­thily Philosophieth, he addeth in the end, and rowseth himselfe; [Page] Conceiue what thou shouldest, thinke mee to be ioyfull and ad­dressed as it were in the best fortunes. Cap. 4. But they are the best, when as the minde, deuoide of all thought intendeth himselfe, and som­times delighteth himselfe in lighter studies, and somtimes moun­teth into the consideration of the nature of himselfe, & the whole world being desirous of truth. O man, O honest wordes, which the Author of Octauia's Tragedie would imitate [...] for it was not he (God forbid) in these Verses in the person of Seneca;

Farre better lay I hid: remoued farre
From enuies stormes amidst the Corsicke shores,
Whereas my minde was farre from any iarre,
Fixt on my studies, not on earthly powres:
O what content had I? (For neuer nature
Mother of all things, Mistris of each creature
Could grant no more) then to behold the heauen,
The Sunnes true motion, and the Planets seuen.

These are better, yea, farre truer then he hath written in his conso­latorie booke to Polybius, ouer-basely and humbly. And is it im­possible that our Seneca should write it? Oftentimes haue I doub­ted it, and almost durst forsweare it. Howsoeuer, he was a man, and happily that writing was enlarged and published by his ene­mies, and happily they corrupted it: yet note this in Senecaes words abouesaid; That there he delighted himselfe in more slighter stu­dies likewise, which I suppose should be Poesie: & amongst them is Medea, which I am halfe assured was written in his exile, at such time as Claudius conquered Britanie; and therfore made he choice of that argument of Iason, that he might intermixe somewhat of the Ocean that was subdued. Is it possible that those verses in the Chorus should haue relation to any but Claudius?

Spare me, O gods, I doe intreat for grace,
Long let him liue secure that hath subdude.

And againe,

The Seas—
Enough already O you gods, you haue
Reuengd you on the Seas, now spare the Powre.

[Page] Which he applied to Cla [...]dius, although he were liuing, and will haue the gods to spare the god in his Poeticall fiction.

CHAP. VI. His riches, his granges, his lands, his vsurie.

BVt presently after he returned from his exile, hee grew a­gain into reputation, being both at that time, and be­fore his aduancement in Court plentifully enstated, for his father had left him rich: Cap. 2. neyther oweth he all his wealth to his industrie and forwardnesse. Hereupon to his mother; Thou being the daughter of a family, didst freely bestow thy bounty on thy welthy children. And he praised her liberali­tie the rather, as he saith, because she bestowed it on her wealthy sons, and not such as were needie. This before he came to Court; but when he liued there he got mightie riches, or rather admitted them which thrust themselues vpon him before he sought them. For he got much by the Princes beneficence; for thus speaketh he vnto Nero in our Tacitus: Thou (said hee) hast giuen mee great grace, and innumerable treasure; so that oftentimes I my selfe turn [...]t oftentimes by my selfe: where is that minde which contented himselfe with a little? Doth he plant such Gardens, and doth he walke about these mannors without the Citie? and is hee stored with so many acre [...] of land, and with such mightie vsu [...]ie? Note Gardens, Mannors, Granges, Fields, and Vsurie, & all these boun­tifully and abundantly. Will you heare Tacitus words once more, but from another mans mouth, and in another sense: Lib. 14. Senecaes ca­lumners, saith he, accuse him of diuers crimes; as that he, as yet in­creased his mighty riches, which were raised aboue any priuate fortune, that he won and drew the Citizens hearts vnto him, and as it were exceeded the Prince likewise in the annuity of his Gar­dens, and the magnificence of his Mannor houses. And Suillus in the same Tacitus expresseth the measure of his riches likewise, with what wisedome, with what precepts of the Philosophers during th [...]se foure yeares that he was in the Princes fauour, had hee got­ten three thousand HSS. that in Rome, whole Testaments and Inheritances were taken and got holde on by his cunning and search; Lib. 13. that Italy and the Prouinces were exhausted by his imme­surable [Page] vsurie. His estate amongst vs should be seuentie fiue hun­dreth thousand crownes. These riches were almost regall, I con­fesse it, but I condemne that which he annexeth, that it was gotten by vnlawfull meanes and deceit. Before he came to Court, as I said, he had a great reuenue, and what wonder is it that he increa­sed the same in so mightie a Court, and so great felicity of the Ro­mane state? But hee saith likewise that Italie and the Prouinces were exhausted by his vsurie: his meaning is, that he had money at vse in diuers places, and I suspect it likewise in AEgypt. This ga­ther I by his Epistle, Epist. 77. wherein hee writeth that the Alexandrian Fleete suddenly arriued, and that all men ranne vnto the hauen and to the shore; but I, saith he, in this generall hastie running of all men, found great pleasure in my slackenesse, that being to re­ceiue my Letters from my friends I made not hast to knowe in what estate my affaires stood in that place, and what they had brought. For this long time I haue neyther wonne or lost any thing. He had there his Brokers or Factors, who followed his businesse; it was therefore in some great stocke of money or in lands. For to haue possessions beyond the Seas was no new mat­ter in that age wherin he liued, and in so great abundance. Verily Dion amongst the causes of the warre in Brittaine, reckoneth this vp likewise, That when as Seneca had vpon great interest trusted the Brittaines with foure hundreth HSS. which in our recko­ning amounteth to the sum of ten hundreth thousand crownes: he called in for that whole summe of money at one time. Whe­ther he spake this truely or no I know not; for euery wayes he was a mortall and professed enemy of our Seneca. Yet telleth hee no vntruth, for there likewise had hee money. Why now Gardens and houses of pleasure? he had diuers, and differently bewtified. Iuuenall toucheth it, The Gardens of most wealthy Seneca. Hee himse [...]fe likewise maketh mention of his houses; Nomentanum, Albanum, and Baianum, and without question hee had manie. He likewise had a house within the Citie, which continued the name for many yeares after, and was called Senecaes house in the Region P. Victor. His houshold-stuffe also was enuied at, and Dio obiecteth, that he had fiue hundreth tables of Cedar with I­uorie feete, all of them alike and equall. This was a great matter if truely great (for this alwaies ought we to be warie in Dions ob­iections) that he had so many tables, whereof any one is vsually taxed and prised at the rate of an ample possession: for they must [Page] not haue beene so choice and so rare; but what if they were not? I denie not but that it was the custome of dissolute and lauish men to haue such: for thus speaketh Martial of one of these:

A hundreth Moorish tables stand about,
With Libique teeth, and golden plates do crackle
Vpon our beddes.

For in great banquets they set a Table before euery seuerall man, (which is elsewhere to be noted) and to this end therefore they had diuers. I doe not therefore say I denie or doubt hereof. But because Seneca himselfe toucheth and reprehendeth this madnesse oftentimes, yea, at such time as he was in Court, and in his olde age, in those bookes of Benefits which he then wrote. What doth he not in his booke of Tranquilitie, about the beginning, openly denie that he tooke no pleasure in those Tables that were conspi­cuous through varietie of spots. Nor was wont to vse them? Wonderfull is this impudence, in a matter so euident and obiect to the eyes of that age, to dissemble or to lie so openly. I cannot think it; especially if Dion report the same, or any other to whom Dion assigneth this office. For in another place haue I noted, that these things seeme to be deduced and vrged against him in some inuectiue Oration; and there by the way haue I acquit him of the crime of his riches, which any man may reade if he please. But rather let him reade Seneca himselfe, who about this time publish­ed his booke of Blessed life, in which his proiect is to defend him­selfe from those aspersions, wherewith his enemies would haue attainted him. O excellent, O wise booke, and more allowed in this behalfe was the reproofe, that was the meane to bring it to light.

CHAP. VII. His Manners, and first his Abstinence, his Truth, his Safetie, and Pietie.

BVt his very manners refu [...]e this obiection of his ri­ches, and iustifie his vse, and not ab [...]se of them. For what hath he offended in pride, excesse, and pompe? Let them tell vs it, and wee will be silent. What was he happily lauish, eyther in his diet or feasting? Let vs heare him­selfe professing openly; When as I heard Attalus declayming a­gainst vices, Epist. 108. errours, and the infirmities of life, oftentimes ha [...]e I had compassion of mankinde, and haue bel [...]ed that hee [...] sublimed and raised aboue human [...] [...]each. When he beganne [...] traduce our pleasures, to praise a chaste bodie, a sober [...]able, a pure minde; not onely from vnlawfull pleasures, but al [...]o [...]ro [...] superfluous, I tooke a liking to temper mine appetite and bel [...] Of these instructions some haue sithence dwel [...] with me my L [...] ­cillius; for I came with a great alac [...]itie to all thing [...]. Afterwards being reduced to a ciuill life, I stored vp som [...] few of these [...]hy good beginnings. Hereupon for all my life time after, I renoun­ced all Oysters and Mushromes. Euer since for my whole life time I haue abstayned from iniunction; since that [...]me my sto­macke hath wanted wine, neyther haue I euer since, vouch sa [...]ed to bath my selfe. Where was euer any such frugalitie in any other place, or by what name is it called? And this haue I written of, in my commendation of Seneca, so let vs no [...] repea [...]e it he [...]re, now as touching the rest of his life it was both serious and seuere. 11. de Com­ment. The Court corrupted him not, neyther inclined he v [...]o flatterie, a vice almost familiar, and allied to such places. No: hee vnto Nero. Suffer me to stay here a little longer with thee, not to flatter thine eares, for this is not my custome: I had rather offend thee by truth, then please thee by flatterie. And beeing now readie to die, in Tacitus hee willed them to make knowne to the Prince, 15. Annal. 3. de Ira. That his minde was neuer inclined vnto flatrerie [...], a [...]d that this was knowne to no man better then to Nero w [...]o had more [Page] often made vse of Senecaes libertie then hee had experience of his seruitude. Moreouer, what exaction and examination of his manners and life? Againe he himselfe, I vse this power, and daily examine my selfe when the light is out and my wife is silent, which is now priuie to my custom. I examin the whole day that is past by my selfe, and consider both mine actions and wordes. I hide nothing from my selfe, I let nothing slip: for why should I feare any of mine errours? When as I may say, See that thou doe this no more, for this time I pardon thee. Can the studie of wise­dome appeare eyther more greatly or more cleerely? Finally, how often appeareth his pietie and submission towards God? I will set downe one thing that I gathered from him. Epist. 96. If thou beleeuest me any waies, when I discouer my most inward affections to thee, I am thus formed in all occurrents, which seeme either diffi­cult or dangerous. I obey not God, but I assent vnto him; I fol­low him from my heart, and not of necessitie. There shall no­thing euer befall mee that I will grieue at, or change my counte­nance for when it happeneth. I will pay no tribute vnwillingly, and many such like obserued by me in my Manuduction or Phi­siologie. Yea, some of that vnstained pietie that Tertullian and the Auncients call him Ours. I haue in my Fragments set downe some of his counsailes, let them make vse of them. Furthermore, Otho Frigensis affirmed, that Lucius Seneca was not onely worthie to be reputed a Philosopher, but also a Christian. And for these his eminent vertues sake, euen in that age there was a great good opinion held of him, yea and they destinated him to the Empire. Tacitus plainly writeth that this was set abroach, 15. Annal. that the Empire should be deliuered to Senecaes hands, as to one that was guiltles, being chosen, by reason of the excellency of his vertues, to the highest dignitie. O Rome thou wert vnworthy of this felicitie; neyther did God respect thee so well otherwise.

Iuuenal Sa­tyr. 10.
If all the people might haue leaue to speake,
What one of them (how desolate soeuer)
Would feare or doubt to honor Seneca
Farre more then Nero.

Yet some there are that doubt of the realitie of his vertues, and thinke them rather words and ostentation. Did he not therefore [Page] in his death make it manifest how slightly hee esteemed all hu­mane things, how he addicted himselfe to God?

CHAP. VIII. His Manfull and Constant life, set downe out of Tacitus.

AND let vs see the commoditie thereof, but from whence should we gather it rather then from Tacitus, the most faithfullest of all other Writers? Beholde, I set thee downe his owne wordes: Hereafter followeth the slaughter of Annaeus Seneca, most pleasing to the Prince, not because he had manifestly found him guiltie of treason, but to the end he might confound him by the sword, since his attempt in poysoning him, so badly succeeded. For onely Natalis discouered no lesse. That he was sent to Seneca at such time as hee was sicke to visite him, and to complaine why he barred Piso of accesse vn­to him, that it would be better for them if they should exercise their friendship with familiar entercourse. And that Seneca an­swered, that mutuall discourse and often conference would bee profitable for neyther of them both, yet that his safetie depended on Pisoes securitie. This was Granius Siluanus, the Tribune of the Praetoriall Band, commanded to relate vnto him, and to enquire whether he knew these speeches of Natalis, and acknowledged his owne answers. He eyther by chance or wittingly had retur­ned that day out of Campania, and remained in a house of plea­sure of his in the Suburbes, aboue foure miles off. Thither came the Tribune about the euening, and beset the Village with a troupe of his souldiers. There discouered he vnto him whilst hee sate at supper with Pompeia Paulina his wife, and two other of his friends, what the Emperours commaund was. Seneca answered, that Natalis was sent vnto him, and that he complained in Pisoes behalfe, that he had bin debarred from visiting him, & that he by reason of his infirmity, & loue of his quiet, had excused himselfe. But why hee should preferre a priuate mans securitie before his owne, hee had no cause; nor that his minde was inclined to flatterie, and that the same was best knowne vnto Nero, who had [Page] more oftentimes made proofe of Senecaes libertie then seruice. When as this answer was related by the Tribune, in the presence of Poppea and Tigillinus, which were inward Counsailors to this mercilesse Prince, he asked him whether Seneca had prepared him­selfe for a voluntarie death. Then did the Tribune confirme, that he discouered no signe of feare, nor appearance of dismay, eyther in his words or countenance. He is therefore commanded to re­turne, and to tell him of his death. Fabius Rusticus reporteth, that he returned not by the same way he came, but that he stept aside to Fenuis the Praefect, and told him [...] what Caesar had commanded, and asked his counsaile whether he should obey him, and that he was aduised by him to execute his charge, which was the fa­tall cowardlinesse of them all. For both Siluanus was one of the Conspirators, and increased their hainous offences, to whose reuenge he had consented; yet spared hee both his speech and pre­sence, and sent in one of the Centurions to Seneca, to signifie vnto him the fatall sentence. He no waies dismayed hereat, called for the tables of his Testament, which being denied him by the Cen­turion, turning himselfe towards his friends, hee testified vnto them, that since it was not permitted him to remunerate their kindnesse towards him, yet testified he, that he left them yet that which of all others he esteemed most worthy, namely, the image of his life, wherof if they were mindfull, they should carrie away the fame of good learning, and of so constant friendship. And therewithall recalleth their teares, and calleth them to constancie now by speeches, now by expostulations, after a more intended manner; asking them, where are the precepts of wisedome? where that premeditated resolution, which you haue studied for so many yeares against imminent dangers? For to whom was Neroes crueltie vnknowne? Neyther remained there any thing af­ter the murther both of his mother and brother, but to annex the death of his Gouernour and Master? When as he had in generall said these or such like words, he embraced his wife; and hauing somewhat tempered her against the present feare, he prayeth and intreateth her to moderate her griefe, and not to make it continu­all. But in contemplation of her life that was vertuously ledde, to endure the lacke of her husband with honest solaces. She con­trariwise alleaged that her selfe was sentenced to die also, and cal­leth for the executioners helpe. Then Seneca loath to obscure her glorie, and louing her intirely, least he should leaue her to the in­iuries [Page] of others, whom he so deerely loued, said, I haue shewed thee the proportions and images of life, but thou hadst rather haue the glorie of de [...]th [...] I will not enuy thy example. Let the constancie be equall in vs both in this so short a death, but thy re­nowne will be farre greater. After which wordes, both of them [...]ut their veines at on [...] time. Seneca in that his bodie was old and leane, by reason of his sparing diet, and that by this meanes his bloud flowed more slowly; cut the veines of his legges and hams likewise. And being wearied with cruell torments, lest by his paine he should weaken his wiues courage, and he by beholding her torments should fall into some impatience, he perswaded her to step aside into another chamber. And in the last moment being no waies disfurnished of his eloquence, calling his writers about him, he deliuered manie things, which being discouered to the world in his owne wordes, I intend not to alter. But Nero that had conceiued no priuate hatred against Paulina, and being affraid lest th [...] odiousnesse of his crueltie should increase the more, com­mandet [...] her death to be hindered. By the exhortations of the souldiers, [...]er slaues and bond-men binde vp her armes, and stop the bloud, the matter being yet vncertaine whether it was with her consent. For amongst the common sort (who are readiest to speake the worst) there wanted not some that beleeued, that du­ring the time that shee feared that Nero was implacable, shee sought to accompanie her husband in the same of his death: but when more apparant hopes were offered, that then she was ouer­come with the sweetnesse of life, whereunto shee added a fewe yeares after, with a laudable memorie towards her husband. But her face and other partes of her bodie were growne so pale and discoloured, that it easily appeared that her vital spirits were much spent. In the meane while Seneca seeing the protraction and slownesse of his death, besought Statius Annaeus, a man well ap­proued vnto him, both for his faith in friendship, and skill in Phi­sicke, to hast and bring him that poison which in times past was prouided, and by which they were put to death who were by pub­like iudgement condemned amongst the Athenians; and hauing it brought vnto him he drunke it, in vaine, by reason that his lims were already colde, and his body shut vp against the force of the venome. At last he entered into a Bath of hot water, besprinck­ling those his slaues that stood next about him, saying that he of­fered vp that liquor to Ioue the deliuerer [...] Then put into the Bath, [...] [Page] [...] [Page] [Page] and stifled with the vapour thereof, hee was buried without a­ny solemnitie of his Funerall: for so had hee set it downe in his Will. Euen then when as being very rich and mighty, he dispo­sed of his last Will. Hitherto Tacitus. Neither will I repent my selfe i [...] I insist lightly, and examine and illustrate his sayings: He saith, that this slaughter of his was most pleasing to the Prince. For of long time he was aggrieued against this Master & Teacher of his in goodnesse and equitie, and his intent was to shake off that Raine of reuerence once whereby he was restrained against his will, by cutting him off; yet had he otherwise sworne, as Sue­tonius witnesseth: Hee compelled Seneca his Master, saith hee, to chuse his death, although when he oftentimes sought for a via­ticum at his hands, and surrendred vp all his goods vnto him: hee had solemnly sworne that he was suspected without cause, and that he had rather die then that hee would hurt him. He swore, that is, he deluded the gods also: hee saith, When as his intent to poyson him succeeded not: for he had attempted it; for so saith the same Tacitus in a former place, Some deliuered poy [...]on vnto Seneca by Neroes command, prepared by the handes of one of his free men, called Cleonicus, but that it was auoyded by Seneca, by the discouerie of his Libertine, or through his owne feare, whilst he sustained his life with a spare diet with wilde apples, and if he were athirst with running water. He goeth forward: Or know­ing of it; as if he had knowledge of the conspiracie, and the pre­fixed time. Likewise, he returned out of Campania, from some Lordship of his there. And there truely oftentimes before his death liued he solitarie, and in that place wrote many of his Epi­stles to Lucillius. Foure miles off, in some Mannor of his likewise, what was it Nomentanum? This did Xitho Polentinus write, but vp­pon meere coniecture, as I thinke. Neither doth Tacitus admit it, who speaketh of some foure miles off the Citie; but Nomentum is at least twelue miles off. No signes of feare. Behold a death both worthy of a Philosopher and a Stoicke, which those things that follow commend. The image of his life: if Seneca I pray you were so absurd a fellow, as Dion speaketh, should this be spoken of his life in the shutting vp? Would hee thus dallie and deceiue his friends, and delude his familiars? Sometimes with speech, that is, gently and familiarly, Being hardned against present feare, I write it not againe rashly, yet some man may doubt, should it not be Molitam that she was mollified, hauing relation to his wife? [Page] That which followeth seemeth to inferre the same, when hee re­quireth her to temper her sorrow; and that which he annexeth: Thou seest, saith he, the portra [...]ture of life. These, and diuers o­thers are Senecaes owne words, or very like vnto them, which were extant and well knowne, as presently after hee saith: his aged bo­die. By my reckoning he was some threscore and three, or foure yeares olde. For that he was not elder, Neroes wordes to Seneca conuince, not spoken long time before that in Tac [...]tus. But thou art both ripe in yeares, and sufficient for affaires, and the fruite of them, which thou canst not truely speake of the elder. Calling his writers about him. O man. O mightie minde? To dictate that when he was a dying that might helpe posteritie. For it is not to be doubted but that they were such, and meere precepts both of constancie and wisedome. The argument is, because they were published; which should not be except they had been excellent. And because they were published, Tacitus omits them. O improuidently done? O that we likewise had but a touch of these Swan-like songs. A Bath of hot water: hee meaneth some Bathing- [...]ub, and then first vsed he colde water when he should vse it no more. Carried into his Bath; that is, into his Stoue or drie Bath, as I thinke: for hee sheweth that by the vapour and a­crimonie of the heate, he was strangled. Euen then when he was most rich and mightie: this is somewhat wherin Tacitus seemeth to carpe at him, yet, if I conceiue him rightly, Tacitus meant his funerall, and that he forbad the solemnities thereof, but how in that He made his last Will. What, would Ner [...] haue broken his Testament? who happily was appointed heire of the greatest part thereof, and would suffer himselfe to loose nothing through neg­ligence. Or doth he touch Senecaes parsimonie herein? But dead wordes passe not farre. Another man may finde it.

CHAP. IX. His body, his sickenesses, his forme.

I Haue ended, except it please you that I write somewhat of his bodie: for men delight, if I may so speake it, to take notice of the habitations and receptacles of great wits: his bodie from his childehood was but weake. This saith he of his Aunt, after he was brought into the Citie. By [Page] her pious and motherly care, Cons. ad Hel cap. 16. Epist. 54. after I had beene long time sicke I recouered my health. And in a certaine Epistle: Sicknesse had gi­uen me a long safe conduct, and suddenly inuaded me. In what kinde, sayest thou? And not without cause doest thou aske mee this, since that there is not any one that is vnknowne to me. But to one kinde of sickenesse I seeme as it were destinated; which why I should call by a Greeke name I know not, for it may aptly enough be called Wheosing or Astine. And presently after he addeth, All the incommodities or dangers of the bodie haue past by me. Behold an olde man well exercised, when likewise being a young man, was exercised with Distillations and Rhumes, by meanes whereof he seemed to be inclined to a consumption. Himselfe a­gaine: That thou art troubled with often distillations & agues: it grieues me the more, because I haue had proof of that kind of sick­nesse, which in the beginning I contemned; Epist. 78. for at first my youth could weare out the iniurie, & oppose it selfe boldly against infir­mities, at last I was masterd, and was brought to that passe, that I my selfe was consumed by distillations. I was brought to an ex­treame leanenesse, and oftentimes had I a minde to shorten my daies, but my carefull and louing fathers olde yeares restrained me. He writeth expresly enough of his leanenesse and consump­tion. Neither is it to be wondred at, that Caligula was so perswa­ded by a woman: for Dio writeth, When as Seneca had worthily and happily handled a certain cause in the Senate, that this Prince waxed mad red with anger, who onely would seeme to be elo­quent, and bethought himselfe of taking away Senecaes life, which he had done if one of his Concubins had not tolde him this, That in vaine prepared he a death for him that was alreadie dying, and was spent with a consumption. He gaue credite to her; and this was the meanes of Senecaes safetie. So true is that which he (what was a looker on?) wrote. Many mens sickenesse deferred their death, and it was a meanes of their securitie, that they seemed rea­die to die. But till his last houre he had but a drie and decayed bo­die, why wonder we when either it was thorow his infirmities or his studies? Epist. 45. And Tacitus likewise addeth a third cause, That his bodie was attenuated by a slender diet. And that it was not bew­tifull, Seneca himselfe expresseth in another place, That thou re­quirest my bookes, Epist. 104. I doe not therefore thinke my selfe more elo­quent, no more then I should iudge my selfe faire because thou requirest my picture. He toucheth that he was not, and that i­mage, [Page] which is discouered of him by Fuluius Vrsinus, Lib. 3. cap. 7 sheweth not a countenance worthy that minde; yet confirmed he his bo­die, though weake, with more harder exercises, as in tilling the fields, and in digging of Vineyards, whereof he maketh mention in a certaine Epistle of his, and in his naturall Questions, where he called himselfe A diligent digger of Vineyards, and generally likewise of Gardens, Epist. 112. which he termeth his cunning.

CHAP. X. Those bookes of his that are extant.

THus of the body onely; neyther had we any fruite by it, but great from his minde, and let vs see them by an Index.

His Verses and Poems, which vndoubtedly and plen [...]ifully he wrote, he himselfe sheweth that he penned them in his exile: Lib. 14. and Tacitus then likewise when he was stept in yeares, and liued in Court. For thus do his calumners obiect against him to Nero; For they obiected against him that hee got the praise of eloquence to himselfe only, and wrote verses very often, a [...]ter that he knew that Nero was in loue with them.

Orations of Declamations he made many & worthy one, yea, euen in the Senate, besides those which he wrote to the Prince, to be receiued likewise in the Senate; neyther doubt I but that the Edicts vnto the people, and the grauer Epistles were written or Di­ctated by him.

His booke of Earth-quake, which, as he testifieth, he wrote when he was yong, in the sixt of his Naturall Questions, chap. 4 Thou shalt not want, for he hath handled the same matter againe in the same Questions.

That of Matrimonie, whether it were a booke or an Epistle I know not, but S. Ierome citeth it against Iouinian, lib. I.

His History or Compendium out of Lactant. the 7. and 15. Chap.

His bookes of Superstition was vndoubtedly one of his best ones, S August. in his booke de Ciuitate Dei praiseth it, and culleth somewhat out of it, and Tertullian maketh mention thereof in Apologetico.

His Dialogues, which Fabius nameth, and no more.

His Morall books, Lactantius citeth them in his eleueth booke, [Page] Chap. 11. and in other places, and Seneca himselfe in his hundreth and sixt Epistle in the beginning, and his Epistle 109. he wrote it in his later time, as it appeareth there. O worthy worke? And it grieues me that it is obscured.

His bookes of Exhortations: for there were many of them, as may be gathered out of Lactantius, and see our Fragments. Who thinketh that this likewise is not to be numbred amongst his best works? There are other, yet such that thou maist not confidently ascribe to this man, as his bookes of notes, which seeme rather to be his fathers. Likewise of Causes; for so an vnknowne Chroni­cler among the Brittaines testifieth; He maketh mention of Seneca de Causis, wherein he saith that Cato defined the office of an Ora­tor thus: An Orator is a good man that is, exercised in eloquence. But this belongeth to the father also, and they are the bookes of Controuersies; in the first booke wherof, and in the very Praeface thou shalt finde that this of Catoes is cited there: and except I for­get my selfe, thou shalt finde it likewise in my Fragments, al­though these smaller things doe not so much ouerslip me, as I suf­fer them to passe by me.

But harke you Sir, make wee no reckoning of his Epistles to S. Paul?

Those that are now extant are not so much worth, nay, it is most certaine, that they haue all of them the same authour, and that they were written, but by some scarce learned Clerke in our disgrace. He trauelleth and attempteth to speak Latin, whosoeuer it was that was the Author: did they not therefore write one vn­to another? De scripto­rib. ecclesia­sticis. S. Ierome, Epistola 53 ad Maced. & de Ciui­tate Dei. cap. 10. S. Augustine, and Pope Linus more ancient then them both auerre it, and it is a passiue opinion. And Iohn of Salisbury likewise confidently writeth, They seeme to be foo­lish, who reuerence not him who, as it appeareth, deserued the familiaritie of the Apostle. De passione Di [...]i Pauli. Lib. 8. Poly­car. cap. 13. I therefore dare not wholly reiect and contemne this; it may be there were som, but others then these, if these [...] I required the iudge­ment of the best Fathers.

The end of Senecaes life, written by Lipsius.

LVCIVS ANNAEVS SENECA. Of-Benefits. THE FIRST BOOKE.

The Argument of IVSTVS LIPSIVS.

I Place these Bookes amongst the last of his Philosophie, although they haue beene planted in the forefront. But so it is if you consider the time; They were all together written vnder Nero after Claudius death. A certaine argument whereof is, in that in the end of his first Booke hee writes very contemptibly of Claudius, and traduceth his slight iudgement: which hee would not haue done had he beene liuing. The Bookes are good; but in faith confused in order and the handling; which a man though circumspect shall hardly expedite: yet will we doe our best. The first Booke beginneth with a complaint of Ingratitude which is vsuall, and yet greatest amongst vices. Therefore saith hee, That he will write of Benefits what their force and propertie is. This handleth he vntill the fift Chapter. Then defineth hee, that a Benefite consisteth not in the matter, but the mind of him that bestoweth it, and hath his weight from him: He diduceth it by ex­amples and arguments vntill the eleuenth Chapter. There proposeth he two members to be intreated of. What Benefits are to be giuen; And how: The first he performeth in the end of the Booke; the other he deferreth till the Booke following.

CHAP. I.

AMongst the many and manifold errors of such as both rashly and inconsiderately leade their liues, Mens indiscre­tion in giuing & receiuing bene­fits maketh in­gratitude so fre­quent. there is nothing for the most part (most worthy Liberalis,) that in my iudgement is more hurt­full; than that we neither know how to bestow, or how to receiue Benefits. For it consequent­ly followeth, that being badly lent, they are worse satisfied, and being vn-restored, are too lately complained of; for euen then when they were giuen, euen then were they lost: neither is it to be wondred at, that amongst so many and mightie vices there is no one more frequent than that of Ingratitude. For this in my iudgment proceedeth from diuers causes. The first is, because we make not choice of such (on whom we are to bestow our benefites) as are worthy to par­take them; but being to take bonds of any man, we diligently inquire after his lands and moueables: we sow not our seeds in a fruitles and barren ground, and yet without any election we rather betray, than bestow our benefits. Neither can I easily expresse, whether it be more dishonest to deny, or redemand a bene­fit. For such is the nature of this debt, that so much is to be receiued therof, as is [Page 2] willingly repaied: but neither to wil, nor to be able to perform a mans promise, is most loathsome, A [...]ood intent is a kind o [...] satisfa­ct [...]on. in this respect, because to discharge a mans credit, the mind sufficeth, though the means be deficient: For he restoreth a benefit that wil­lingly oweth the same. But if there be a fault in them who are ingratefull euen in confession of a fauour, there is also some defect in vs. By experience wee [...]inde many vngratefull, and make more; because some-whiles we are grieuous vpbraiders and exactors: other-whiles full of lenitie in our liberalitie, and such that as soone as we haue lent, repent vs of the deed doing: other-whiles com­plaining of mens faint correspondence, & accusing them of som fault & offence they do vnto vs, how little soeuer it be. Thus corrupt we all thankesgiuing and remuneration, not only after we haue giuen our benefit, but whilest we are in giuing of it. For which of vs was content either lightly, or at one time to be re­quired? The errours of [...]hem [...]hat giue. which of vs (when he but suspected that something would be deman­ded at his hands) hath not disdainefully frowned, or turned away his face, or pretended some busines, and by long discourses, and purposely-produced speech without head or foot, forestalled the occasion of demanding a fauour, and by diuers subtill deuises deluded hasty necessities, but being cunnngly in­countred in such sort as he must needly answer, hath not either deferred (that is) fearefully denied, or promised but difficultly, but with bended browes, and strained and reprochfull words? But no man willingly oweth that, which he receiued not voluntarily, but extorted violently. Can any man be thankefull vnto him, who proudely either reprocheth a benefite, or wrathfully flung it to him, In [...]or [...]ed and e [...]torted fau [...]ur is n [...]t [...]ank [...]s­worthy. or (being ouer-wear [...]ed) gaue it him to the end to auoyde his further trouble? He is deceiued whosoeuer hopeth to haue a satisfaction at his hands, whom hee hath dulled with delay, or tortured with expectation. A benefit is acknowledged according to the intent wherewith it is giuen; and therefore we ought not to giue negligently. For euery one is indebted to himselfe, for that which he receiueth of a neglectfull debtor. Neither must there be flackenesse in our liberalitie, because whereas in all offices the will of the giuer is highly esteemed, he that hath bin slow in benefiting, hath beene long time vnwilling. Neither ought we to bestow our benefits contumeliously; for whereas by na­ture it is so prouided that iniuries leaue a more deepe impression in our minds, than good deserts: and the last are sodainly forgotten, where the first are con­tinually reserued in memorie, what expecteth he who offendeth, whilest he ob­ligeth an other? His satisfaction and gratuitie is sufficient if any man doe but pardon his benefit. The multitude of er [...]our ought not to ex [...]inguish a v [...]rtue. Neither is there any cause why the multitude of vngrate­full men should make vs slower to deserue well: For first of all, (as I said) we increase the same: Furthermore, neither are the immortall Gods deterred from their plentifull and ceaslesse bounty: notwithstanding the sacrilegious & neg­lectfull behauiors of men. They vse their nature, and infuse their bounty on all things, yea euen on those amongst the rest, that vse the worst interpretation of their benefits & largesse. Let vs follow these as our guides, (as farre as our hu­mane frailtie wil permit vs) let vs giue benefits, not lend on vsurie. That man is worthy to be deceiued [...] who thought vpon requital when he presented his cur­tesie. But it was ill imployed. A laudable a­ction must be [...]ntinued with­out exception. Both our children and wiues haue deceiued our hopes, yet do we both bring vp the one, and marry the other: and so obstinate are we against experiments, that being ouercome in war, & shipwrackt by sea, we giue ouer neither: How much more becommeth it vs to be constant in gi­uing benefits? which, whosoeuer giueth not, because hee hath not receiued, gaue that he might receiue, & makes the cause of the vngratful receiuer iustifi­able, [Page 3] to whom in that sort at length it is absurd not to repay, although hee hath power. How many are vnworthie the light, and yet the day riseth to them? How many complaine that they are borne? Yet nature increaseth mankinde, and suffereth those to enioy life, who loathe to possesse it. This is the propertie both of a great and good minde, not to follow the fruit of Be­nefits, but the benefits themselues, and after the euill to search likewise some good. What bountie were in this, to profit many, if no man were deceiued? Now is it a Vertue to giue benefits, A vertuous man in his good action is not d [...]terred by any occurrent. whereof there is no hope of recompence againe, and of which the fruit is alreadie receiued by a worthie man. So farre should this thing bee from deceiuing vs, or making vs flow to performe so worthie a thing, that although my hope were vtterly cut off for euer fin­ding a gratefull man, yet had I rather bee exempted from receiuing bene­fits from any man, than not to bestow them. Because that hee which giueth not, is more faultie than hee which is vngratefull. I will speake what I thinke: hee that requiteth not a fauour done him, sinneth more; hee that giueth not, sooner.

CHAP. II.

If thou profusely wilt thy goods bestow
Accius the Poets saying.
On euery vulgar Person thou doest know,
Full many fauours must thou needly lose,
That one at length thou iustly maist dispose.

IN the former Verse thou maiest iustly reprehend both these two clauses; for neither must our benefits bee profusedly lauished on euery man, The nature of a Benefit is chan­ged by the vse. neither can the prodigalitie and largesse of any thing bee honest: especially that of benefits. For if thou giuest them without iudgement and discretion, they cease to bee bene­fits, and admit any other name whatsoeuer you will giue them. The sense fol­lowing is wonderfull, which repaireth the indemnities of many benefits ill im­ploied and lost, with one well bestowed. See, I pray you, whether this bee not more true, and more correspondent to the greatnesse of a Benefactor, to exhort him to giue, although hee were assured that hee should imploy no one gift well: For that is false. That many thinges are to bee lost, Nothing is lost that is rightly giuen. because nothing is lost; the reason is for that hee who looseth, had numbred it alreadie amongst his desperate debts. The respect and manner in imploying good deedes is sim­ple and plaine, they are only deliuered out; if any one to whom they are trusted restore any thing, it is gained, if no man yeeld satisfaction, there is nothing lost: I lent the same to the only intent to giue it. No man registreth his good deeds in his booke of debtors. Neither is there any exacting Vsurer (how extreme) soeuer hee bee) that punctually impleadeth his debter on the day and houre of his paiment. An honourable Benefactor neuer thinketh on the good turne he doeth, Only satis [...]ction refresheth me­morie in a good Benefactor. except hee that hath receiued the same, refresh the memorie thereof by repaying him: Because otherwise it ceaseth to bee a benefit, and becom­meth a debt. To bestow a fauour in hope to receiue an other, is a con­temptible and base vsurie. How badly soeuer thy former fauours haue fallen [Page 4] out, yet perseuer thou in bestowing vpon others. They are best hoarded in the handes of the vngratefull, whom either shame, or occasion, or imitation, may at length fashion to bee gratefull. Perseuer continually, and cease not to bee bountifull: Accomplish that good worke which thou hast begunne, and per­forme the dutie of a good man. Releeue this man with thy goodes, an other with thy credit, that man by thy fauour, this with thy good counsailes, and holsome precepts.

CHAP. III.

WIld Beasts (yea euen they that are most sauadge) acknowledge the good that is done vnto them. Neither is there a [...]y liuing creature so vntamed and vntractable, that with gentle handling, and care­full nourishing, is not made gentle and familiar. Such as haue the keeping and charge of the Lyons, may muffle and handle them without harme or danger. Benefits redoub­led animater the most vngratefull to satisfaction. Meat so much humbleth the fiercenesse and haugh­tie courage of Elephants, that they refuse no seruile and base burthens. Final­ly, all these brute beasts, so deficient in vnderstanding, and esteeme of the bene­fites they receiue, at length are tamed and made humble by the frequent and daily accesse of the same. Is he vngratefull for one good turne? happily he will acknowledge a second. Ha [...]h he forgotten two? the third may perhaps bring him to remembrance of all the rest: Hee looseth the good that hee doth, that beleeueth that hee hath ouer-quickly lost the same. But hee that per­seuereth in well-doing, and redoubleth his benefits one vpon the necke of the other, exhorteth an acknowledgement from the most obdurate and forgetfullest rec [...]iuer. Hee dare not lift vp his eyes against many good turnes. Whither so euer hee turneth himselfe in se [...]king to betray his owne memorie, there let him see thee beleager him on euery side by thy boun­tie: The force and properties whereof I will discouer vnto thee, if first of all thou giue mee licence to expalliate in a word or two, and to touch cer­taine thinges impertinent to this matter. Why is it that the Ancients haue fained that there are three The Poets fain [...] the [...] to [...]e thr [...]e Ma [...]d [...]ns, wh [...]h as [...]hey say wer [...] Daughters o [...] IVP [...]TER, and V [...]NVS, The G [...]k [...]s call them Charites, and [...]he [...]a [...]nes Graces. CHRYSIP­PVS opinion. Graces, that they are Sisters, hauing their handes in handes? and why are they pictured laughing, yong, and tender in yeares, Virgins, attired in loose garments, cleare and transparent? To this some answere, That there ought to bee three, because the one of them representeth him that Bestoweth; the other, him that Receiueth; the other, him that gratifieth and remunerateth the Benefit. Others say, that there are three kindes of benefites, the one of those who bestow the same, the other of those that restore the same, and the third of those that receiue, and therewith­all requite good turnes. Of these thinges iudge as thou pleasest, the knowledge hereof full little profiteth vs. What meaneth this dance of theirs, in which hand in hand they trip it alwaies in a round? To this intent it is, Because the order and processe of benefits (that passe through their handes that giue the same) is such, that they returne againe to the giuer, and should wholly loose the grace of all which they should effect, if euer they should bee interrupted: contrariwise, that they alwaies retaine their beautie, when they are vnited and hand-fasted together, and when they are restored and acknowledged in their time. Therefore paint they them laughing, Because the countenances of those [Page 5] that will deserue well at any mans handes, should be smiling and pleasant, such as theirs is, who are wont to giue or receiue benefits. They paint them yong, because the memorie of benefits should not waxe old. They faine them Vir­gins; because they are incorruptible, sincere, holy, and profitable vnto all men; Their garments shining, Videant opera vestra bona, and transparent, because good works would be seene. Let him that will admire this miracle, inuented by the f [...]bulous Grecians; let him, that list, maintaine that they are necessarie and profitable: yet is there no man that will iustifie, that the names which Hesiodus hath giuen them are any waies pertinent to this fable, or that purpose; or that knoweth why hee termed the eldest of them Aglaia [...] the second Euphrosine; and the third Thalia. Each one hath thought good to wrest the interpretation of these wordes according to his owne phantasie, and hath laboured to fashion them, and conforme them to some congruencie of reason. Notwithstanding Hesiodus hath giuen these yong Maidens that name, which was best liking to his humour. Homer also changed one of their names, and called her Pasithae, and saith, that shee was mar­ried and espoused to a husband, to the end thou shouldest know that they were no Virgins. I will finde you out an other Poet that describeth them girt, and apparrelled in thicke and grosse robes. Mercurie also is painted by them; not for that deuise and good discourse giueth any lustre or esteeme to benefits, but be­cause it so pleased the painter to describe them. Chrisippus likewise (whose vnder­standing is so sharp and subtile, and that searcheth and soundeth the very depth and secret of matters, he that pretendeth to speake of good customes, and con­formeth his stile to euery mans vnderstanding) farceth his whole booke with these follies, in so much as he speaketh very little of the manner of giuing, recei­uing, or restoring benefits, in such sort as he mixeth not his fables amidst his dis­course, but rather mixeth his discourse amidst his fables. For, besides these thinges which Hecaton hath written, Chrisippus maintaineth, The Poets faine the Sunne had a certaine number of hand-maides, which hee called the Houre [...]. See Ouid. That the three Graces are the Daughters of Iupiter and Eurimone, somewhat yonger, but fairer than the Houres, for which cause they were giuen for companions to the God­desse Venus. Chrisippus likewise maketh a mysterie of the name of the Mother of these Graces, saying; That for this occasion shee was called Eurimone (which in Greeke signifieth a good patrimonie) because it is the propertie of a great and ample patrimonie to know well how to employ and bestow benefits; as if it were a matter of custome to giue the name of Mother after that shee had chil­dren; or as if the Poets assigned the true name of all thinges whereof they in­treated. There were in Rome certaine men whose office it was to carrie by heart the names of the Ci­tizens, who du­ring the election of publik officers were alwaies as­sistant. For euen as the Nomen-Clators or Beadles (whose office it is to relate their names that ought to bee solicited to purchase some dignitie) sometimes make vse of their boldnesse, in stead of their memorie, and forgetting the proper names of such as they should certifie, forge an other according to their owne phantasie: So Poets thinke it not pertinent to the matter to speake truth, but either compelled by necessitie, or surprised with affection of consonancie, com­mand each thing to be termed by that name that best beseemeth the harmonie and cadencie of their Verses. Neither are they to bee blamed herein, because they enlarge the matter with some new deuice of their owne: for the first Poet that shall speake of them, The vanit [...]e of Po [...]ts. will giue them what name he pleaseth. And to proue this to be true, behold this name of Thalia (whereof principally all of them make mention) which in Hesiodus is one of the three Graces, and in Homer one of the nine Muses.

CHAP. IIII.

BVt least I should seeme to incurre the same fault my selfe, which I reprehend in others, I will relinquish all th [...]se thinges, which are so far from the matter, that they no waies concerne the same; I only pray thee to defend my cause, if any man shall taxe and re­prehend me for this, Hee priuily here tax [...]th the Gre­cians inc [...]stantie that among the rest I haue not spared to reproue Chrisippus, being a man so great, (but yet a Grecian) whose vnderstan­ding is so acute and subtile, that it oftentimes confoundeth and puzleth it selfe: for euen then when he seemeth to aime at the best, and to affect any thing: hee only pricketh, but pierceth not; toucheth, but teacheth not. And what subtiltie or sharpnesse, I pray you, is herein? Of benefits then we are to intreat, and to set downe an order and direction in this vertue, which chiefly concerneth humane societie: we are to prefixe and set downe a law of liuing, least inconsiderate faci­litie in giuing, grow in fauour vnder the colour of benignitie; least this obser­uation, whilest it temperateth liberalitie, (which must neither be defectiue nor superfluous) restraine the same wholly. Men are to bee taught to receiue with thankefulnesse, and to restore with the same correspondence, and to procure (in regard of those that oblige them with any benefit) not only to be equall with them in will, but to ouer-come them with greater gratuitie: because that hee who is obliged to acknowledge a good turne, requiteth not the same, except his remuneration exceede the giuers merit. These are to be taught to impute nothing; they to owe more; the one not to vpbraid [...] the other more and more to acknowledge. To this most honest contention of ouercomming one benefit by an other so doth Chrisippus exhort vs, Chrisippus tri­uiall subti [...]tie. that he saith, that it is to bee feared, least because the Graces are the Daughters of Iupiter, it be reputed sacriledge to grow vnthankefull for good turnes, and iniurie be thereby offered to so amiable Damosels.

Teach thou mee somewhat that may make mee more [...]orward to doe good vnto all men, and more thankefull vnto those that haue done mee good offices. Tell vs something whereby the will of those that oblige by their bountie, and of those who are obliged, are answerable, and made competent: so as the bene­factors keepe no account or memorie of their good deedes, and those that shall receiue the same, put them not in obliuion, but perpetually remember them. And let vs leaue these follies and toies to Poets, whose proiect is to delight the eare, and to inuent a pleasing fable. But they that will heale mens disfigured and vicious minds, that serue to maintaine faith in humane things, and desire to engraue the memorie of good turnes in the hearts of men; Let them speake se­riously, and imploy their vtmost forces: except thou happily thinke that it is possible by a slight and fabulous discourse, and by old wiues tales, that a thing so pernicious, and so much abhominable in the world, (as is the generall aboli­tion of debts, and an acquittance of all good deedes) may be prohibited.

CHAP. V.

Hee returneth to the matter. BVt as I insist not on those thinges which are of small importance, so is it likewise necessarie that I indeuour my selfe to make this well knowne, that first of all wee ought to learne how much wee are obliged, when wee haue receiued a benefit. One man ac­knowledgeth himselfe indebted for the money hee hath recei­ued, [Page 7] another for a Consulate, Bountie is not the ob [...] of the sense, but is en­grau [...]n in the heart. another for the office of Priesthood, another for the gouernment of a Prouince [...] yet no one of these things is properly a benefit, but onely the marke and signe of a benefit or merit. A benefit cannot be tou­ched by the hand, but is carried in the heart.

There is much difference betwixt the matter of bounty and bounty it selfe: For this cause neither gold nor siluer, (nor any other thing we receiue at our friends hands) is the true and re [...]ll benefite, The perpetuitie of a b [...]ne [...]ite. except his will onely that bestow­eth the same. The rude and ignorant sort obserue only that which is seene by the eies, or thrust into the hands, or which is deliuered them, or they possesse; and contrariwise, they make litle account of that which in realitie of truth they ought most to prise & praise also. These things which we possesse, these things which we see, and wherein our couetousnes is so engaged, are fraile and incer­taine: & either fortune, or iniustice can take them from vs: but a benefit remai­neth, although the matter wherby it is made manifest, be lost and extinguished. Vndoubtedly that thing is well done which no force can defeate or diminish. I haue redeemed (saiest thou) my friend from the hands of pirates, and him hath an other enemy surprized and put in prison. Although this enemie hath defrauded and acquited mee of the vse of this good worke, yet can he not ex­tinguish the good worke it selfe. I haue saued some mens children from ship­wracke, or haue deliuered them from the force of the fire, and these hath ey­ther some sickenesse or other casuall iniurie violently taken from mee. Yet re­maineth that without them, which is giuen in them. All those things then which improperly vsurpe the name of Benefites, are but the means and instru­ments, by the which the will of a good friend is expressed. The like appeareth in many other things, so as it falleth out, that the true thing is in one place, and the signe and resemblance thereof in an other. The Emperour or Chiefetaine of an army giueth a chaine of gold to some one souldier of his that approued his valew in some difficult enterprise, morall or ciuill: a Crowne vnto another that first scaled the enemies wall, or for that he saued a Citizens life. I aske you now what precious thing hath this Crowne in it? what is this embroydered gowne or garment which is giuen to Noble-mens children? These ensignes of magi­stracie, the axe and rods, what value are they of? what profiteth the Iudges Tribunall, or his painted Caroch? None of all these things are honor, but one­ly signes of honor. In the like manner that which is offered to the eye, is not the good worke or benefit, but on [...]ly a lustre and signe of the s [...]me.

CHAP. VI.

WHat therefore is a benefit? What a benefite is, and wherein it consis [...]eth. It is a beneuolent action which cau­seth and yeeldeth pleasure by that good it communicateth to others, inclined and disposed of it selfe, and of her proper mo­tion, to that she doth. A benefit therefore consisteth not in that which is either done or giu [...]n, but in the minde of him that either giueth or doeth the pleasure. And hereby mayest thou vnderstand, that there is a great difference betwixt these two, because the beneuolence is alwaie [...] good; but that which is done, or giuen, is neither good nor euill. It is the mind that valueth small things; The minde and heart are they that prize or dis­este [...]me thing [...]. illustrateth and exemplifieth obscure things; and contrariwise, setteth light by those things which are most estee­med and precious. Those things which wee desire and long after most, haue [Page 8] a neutrall and indifferent nature, and are neither good nor euill. That which is most materially to be considered, is, whether the minde that gouerneth them aimeth and impelleth them, from which all things haue their forme. That then which is reckoned, or giuen, is not the benefite, no more than the honor of the Gods dependeth not on those beasts that are sacrificed vnto them, (how costly and sumptuously soeuer they be) [...]ut in the pietie and rectitude of those minds which worship them. A comparison to this eff [...]ct. For which cause the good and vertuous men, who haue nothing to present the gods with but a cake & an earthen vessell, are held for religious. And contrariwise, the worser sort are not exempted and acquit­ted of impietie, although they haue imbrewed the altars with much bloud and sacri [...]ice.

CHAP. VII.

He proueth his [...]efinition. IF benefits consisted in those things which we receiue, and not in the will wherewith they are giuen: so much the more greater should they be, the greater the good turnes are which wee haue receiued. This hath some co [...]so [...]ncie with the almes which the widd [...]w and the Pharisie gaue in the tem­ple. But this is false; for sometime he obligeth vs more that hath giuen a little magnificently; that hath equalled the riches of Kings by his valew and richer mind: that giueth a little, but freely; that for­getteth his owne pouertie and necessitie; whilest he respecteth mine; that had not only a will to help me, but a great desire to fauour me; that when he gaue a benefit, Arguments of true pi [...]ie and bountie. thought that he receiued the same; that gaue without hope of re­compence, and receiued as though he had not giuen; that not onely sought oc­casion to do good, but laid hold on the opportunitie, whereby he might profit others: Contrariwise these things which either are extorted from the giuer, or seeme to fall from his hands that giueth them: although they seeme highly prised and of great appearance, yet, as I said, they are vnworthy of thankes, because a gift is much more gratefully accepted and reckoned of that commeth from a free and liberall hand, than from a full and rich-fisted penny-father. It is but a small thing he hath giuen me, but he could not giue me more. But that which the other hath giuen me, is farre more worth: Yet doubted he; yet de­layed he when he should giue; yet grumbled he in bestowing; yet gaue he pre­sumptuously, excusing himselfe by many circumstances, A sicken [...]sse o [...] th [...]s age i [...] you note it. and would not please him to whom he lent his goods. Finally, that which he gaue mee, was not so much to giue it me, as to bestow it on his ambitious thoughts.

CHAP. VIII.

WHen as many men offered many presents to Socrates, each one ac­cording to their possessions and possibilities: one of his poorest schollers, whose name was AEschines, came vnto him, & said; I find nothing worthy thy selfe, that I may giue vnto thy selfe: and in this one onely kind I find my selfe to be poore. That one thing therfore which is only in my possession, I offer thee, which is my selfe; beseech­ing thee to accept of this gift such as it is, and to consider that they which haue giuen thee many things haue reserued much more to thēselues. To this Socra­tes answered: Who doubteth but that thou hast offred me a great present, were [Page 9] it not that thou valuest and esteemest thy selfe so little, I will therfore take care to restore thy person to thy selfe, better than at this time I receiue him from thee. By this present of his, AEschines exceeded Alcibiades (a man as mightie in minde as in me [...]nes) and all the liberalities of all the most richest yoong men of Greece.

CHAP, IX.

THou seest how a good minde findeth m [...]tter of liberalitie, euen in the greatest gall and torment of miserie. AEschines (mee thinkes) reasoneth thus in himselfe: Thinke not Fortune, that thou hast preuailed any thing against me in making me poore, be thou ne­uer so refractarie; yet will I finde a present that is worthie Socra­tes; and since I can not giue any thing that is thine, or thou hast giuen mee, I will giue mine owne, my selfe, and th [...] best of me. You must not thinke that AEschines valewed himselfe basely to himselfe, that knew none more worthie present besides himselfe without himselfe. This ingenious young man found out the m [...]anes, how he might make Socrates his, by giuing him what he was. We are not to respect the valew of these things that are giuen, but the vertue of him that giueth. A subtile and politique man willingly giueth audience to those that demand and propose vnreasonable suites, and intending no wayes to helpe indeede, nourisheth their fraudulent hope with deceiptfull wordes. But yet worse is his opinion, that with prowd language, graue and seuere lookes, hath disdain [...]fully set out the summe of his riches. For they that make a shew to respect and reuerence a man on whom Fortune smileth, are the first that de­test and seeke to doe him mischiefe; and such notwithstanding, that if they had the power, would themselues doe that which the other did. In this place Lipsius and A­nicetus obserue a d [...]sect which may be c [...]niectu­red by the small conformitie be­tween [...] the ante­cedent and sub­sequent reasons. Some there are that not priuately and behind their backes, but openly and to their faces haue scorned and mocked at other mens wiues, and yet haue abandoned their owne to those that loued them. There are women likewise, that in these dayes ac­compt those married men rustique, inhumane, and of froward condition, that wil not suffer their wiues to get vp into their Caroches, and prance through the streets to be gazed at by the passers by. A sinne more imitated in thi [...] age than any vertue.That man who is not noted for inter­taining a Mistris, or for courting his neighbours wife, him doe these Matrons accompt base in condition and heart; base in choice and election, & only wor­thie to court their basest Chamber-maids. Hence is it, that in these dayes adul­terie is reputed the most honestest methode and manner (that is) to wed a wo­man. Some had rather consent neuer to entertaine marriage, than not to haue such a woman to his wife, that was not debauched from her husband. Th [...]re is neither measure nor rule in mens expence. They contemne an other mans pouertie, and feare none but their owne: they dread no other euill, they neuer pardon iniurie, they tyrannize ouer th [...] weaker sort, and outrage them by fo [...] or feare. For to see Prouinces sacked, the chaire of Iustice sold, and iudgements set to sale to him that will giue most, is not to be wondered at, since it is permit­ted by the Law of Nations to sell that thou hast bought.

CHAP. X.

BVT the subiect whereof I intreate, hath so much distracted and transported me, that it hath carried mee further than I thought. Let vs in such sort indeuour to depart out of this life, A notable lesson o [...] an E [...]hnike [...]or all good Chris [...]ians. that our sins may not seeme to bee rooted and setled in the same. Hereof our Ancestours and Predecessors complained, hereat wee our selues are agrieued; and for this will our Successors sigh, because good customes are abolished, impieties haue preheminence, and humane affaires grow worse and worse, and men leaue no wickednes or sinne vnsought after. And the worst is that these vices doe, and shall remaine in the same place, although they be a lit­tle moued here and there, as the Flouds of the Sea, which when the tide com­meth, are carried out into the Ocean, and vpon the ebbe are contained a while on the brimme and banke of the riuer. In this time shall adulteries bee more frequent than any other vice, and modestie shall turne loose and Liber­tine. In an other Age the furie of Banquetting shall flourish, and the vndecent aboundance of Kitchins: the shops wherein so infamously mens Patrimo­nies are sold and bartered. An other time shall come of immesurable and vn­brideled curiositie in apparrelling the bodie, and painting the face, which ex­ternall fuke shewes how foule and filthie the soule is internally. At this time great men abusing their authoritie, shalbe both audacious and insolent. At an other time men shall flesh themselues with publiqu [...] and priuate cruelties, and in the furious madnesse of [...]iuill dissention, whereby euery sacred and sancti­fied thing is prophaned. The time will come wherein drunkennesse shall bee honored, and he shalbe esteemed most vertuous and gallant that hath suckt in the greatest excesse of wine. Vices continue not alwayes in one and the same place, they agree not well together, they change time and place, they vrge and giue chace one to an other. In a word, we may alwayes boldly say thus of our selues, that we are euill, that we haue beene euill, and (vnwillingly I speake it) we alwayes shall be. Ingratum dix­eris, & omnia dixeris. In all times there will be Murtherers, Tyrants, Thi [...]ues, Adulterers, Robbers, Church-breakers, and Traitors, and the least of all these is the vngrateful man, except it be that all these are the children of ingratitude, without which scarcely any euill enterprise hath beene plotted or performed. Beware and esteeme thou this as the most grieuous and greatest of crimes, let him not take hold of thee; & in another man pardon the same as if it were the slightest of all others. For in effect all the iniurie that he did thee consisteth in this, that thou didst loose thy good deed: but comfort thy selfe with this, that thou didst not loose the better part thereof, which is, the honor to haue giuen the same. But euen as we ought to be well aduised, not to employ our fauours on those that will not heartily and freely acknowledge the same, so ought we sometimes to hazard a benefit, although we are out of hope of acknowledge­ment or satisfaction. And not onely when wee are afraide that they wil be in­grateful, but also then when we shalbe most assured that they haue already bin approoued and knowne for vngratefull. Euen as if I can, I am vndoubtedly bound to restore vnto a father (prouided that it be not with any hazard of mine owne fortunes) his children whom I had saued from a great perill: So likewise ought I to defend a vertuous and worthy man, and second him in the daunger wherein I shall find him, though it be with the losse and expence of mine owne bloud. If likewise by my outcrie I can deliuer a man from the hands of thieues, [Page 11] (although hee bee vnworthie of any fauour) I ought neuer to repent my selfe if by my wordes I haue saued a wicked mans life.

CHAP. XI.

IT followeth now that wee declare what sorts of benefites wee ought to giue, and after what manner wee ought to giue them. First of all let vs giue things necessarie, then profitable, thirdly a­greable, and permanent. Let vs begin with that which is n [...]cessa­rie. The ne [...]essarie. For we accompt our selues farre more beholding to him that hath giuen vs our life, than to him that enlargeth our honours or instructeth vs in vertues. Neuer will he esteeme it a thing according to the value if he can ea­sily slight it ouer, and say, take it to thee, I want it not, I am contented with mine owne. So doing thou wilt not be obliged to restore that which hath bin giuen thee, but thou wilt disdaine it and cast it away. But amongst those things which are necessarie some hold the first place, and they are those without which wee cannot liue. Others hold the second: and they are those with­out which wee ought not to liue; Others the third, without which wee would not deserue to liue: The first of this note are, to bee deliuered out of the enemies handes, exempted from a tyrants wrath and proscription, and other perils, which being both diuers and incertaine beleager and besiege mans life. Which so euer of these we shall haue preuented or cut off, the more greater and terrible it is, the greater thanks shall we receiue. For they will be­thinke them from what euils we haue deliuered them, and the precedent fear [...] of danger which they haue had, reuiueth their remembrance, and giueth life to the desert fore-past, when they bethink themselues from how many miseries they are deliuered. Yet hereby is it not intended if wee should maliciously defer or denie our succours to him that is in any danger, to the end that feare should giue a greater waight to our benefit or merit. In the second ranke are those things without which truely we may liue, but liue so miserably, as death were better than the life; of which kind are libertie, modestie, and a good mind. In the last place we rancke those things, which alliance and parentage, familiar conuersations, and long vse, hath made vs alwaies repute and accompt most deare and precious: as our Children, our Wiues and houses, and all these things whereunto we haue so much addicted and dedicated our hearts and de­sires, that we had rather die than diuide our selues from their companie. After these necessarie thinges succeede those that are profitable, The profitable. whose nature and ar­gument is far more ample and diuers. Here entreth mony (not superfluous but sufficient to entertaine an honorable meanes of life) here entreth honour and the good carriage of affaires, to the end to attaine to greater matters. For no­thing is more profitable than to be made profitable to a mans owne selfe. Profit is first to be respected in regard of a mans particular. The agreeable. The rest is but euen great aboundance and superfluitie which spoileth men, and ma­keth them effeminate. But when we would intend to doe a pleasure, wee must prouide that the opportunitie may make it more pleasing; that the thing wee intend to present bee not common and ordinarie; that few men haue had the like in times past, and that as few yet in these our daies can match the patterne: and if it be not rich in it selfe, at least let the time and place, wherein wee giue the same [...] cause it to be more heighly prized. Let vs bethinke our selues what pre­sent wee might make, that might yeeld some pleasure and contentment, that might bee more often-times seene and handled, to the end that so often as hee [Page 12] should take my present into his handes, so oftentimes he should haue and hold mee in his remembrance. Wee ought likewise to beware that we send not vn­seemely presents; as to a woman, or an old and impotent man, toiles or other necessarie instruments of hunting; to a Countrie Clowne bookes; or nets to him that is studious and addicted to his booke. Contrariwise also wee ought to be very circumspect, least thinking to send some agreeable present, we send to euery one such thing as may reproch him of his infirmitie; as wine to a drun­ken man, and medicines to a sick man. For this beginneth to resemble rather an outrage than a present, If that which is giuen doe taxe the imperfection of him that receiueth the same.

CHAP. XII.

The permanent. IF it be in our election to bestow what we list, Let vs present such thinges as may continue longest, to the end that the good which we doe, and gifts wee bestow, may bee lasting and of long conti­nuance. Thinges of con­ti [...]ance liue long [...]st in the re­c [...]iuers me [...]orie. Because amongst those that receiue, there are few so thankefull that they remember them of that they haue receiued, except they haue it alwaies in their sight. And the vngratefull also, when the present and fauour is alwaies in their eies, are thereby drawne into the memorie thereof, which suffereth them not to forget themselues, but rendreth and re­doubleth the memorie of him that gaue the same. So much the rather there­fore let vs seeke out thinges that are of continuance, because we ought neuer to vpbraide a benefit but suffer the present it selfe to quicken and reuiue decaying memorie. More willingly will I giue siluer plate than readie monie, more wil­lingly statues, than apparell, and such thinges as in a short time are worne out by vse. Few there are that remember to giue thanks a [...]ter they haue pocket­ted the present. Many there are that no longer make estimate of a good turne, than whilest they may make vse thereof. If therefore it possibly might bee so, I would not that my gift should be consummate, or worne out of memorie, my desire is it should be extant, and of long continuance, and accompanie my friend and liue ioyntly with him. There is no man so foolish that had neede to bee taught; What discretion th [...]re [...]ght to be vsed [...]n pres [...]n­ting. that hee should not inuite his friend, and present him with the pub­lique shewes of fencing, and baiting of sauage beasts, when as these proclaimed sports haue beene performed and shewen, or Sommer suites for Winter time, and Winter garments in heate of Sommer; wee neede no more than common sense to make vs know what is fitting and acceptable. Wee must respect the time, the places, the persons, because in the moments of time, or occasion, some thinges are gratefull and vngratefull. How much more acceptable is it if we giue that, which the person to whom wee giue hath not, than that where­with he is abundantly stored? if we present him with that which hee hath long sought and could not finde, than that which is merchandable and easily bought in euery place? Our gifts ought rather to be exquisite and rare, than pretious and rich, and such and so extraordinarie, that he that seemeth to haue least want of any thing by reason of his abundance, may accept and hold them deare for their raritie and noueltie. Raritie, [...]e the pre [...]ent neuer so small [...]aketh it ac [...]eptable. Were they but common apples which in a short space by reason of their abundance would bee displeasant to the whole world, yet if a man make a present of them in their prime ripenesse, and when there is a scarcitie of them, they will bee farre more acceptable and esteemed. These [Page 13] presents likewise are not without honor, which either no man else hath presen­ted them with, or we our selues haue not giuen to any other.

CHAP. XIII.

WHen as Alexander of Macedon after his Orientall victories had raised his thoughts aboue humane reach; certaine Embassadours were sent vnto him in the behalfe of the Corinthians, to congra­tulate his victories, and to present him with the Title of a free Ci­tizen of Corinth. Which offer of theirs when Alexander had scornefully derided, one of the Embassadours said vnto him: Consider, noble Prince, that we haue neuer imparted this priuilege of our Citie at any time to a­ny else, but thy selfe, and inuincible Hercules. Which when Alexander had heard, hee thankefully entertained the honour they had offered him, sump­tuously feasted, and gratefully embraced the Embassadours, conceiuing thus, and contemplating, not what they were who offered them their Citie, but who he was to whom they had first presented the same before him. This man who was so addicted, and drunken in glorie: (whereof hee neither knew the nature nor the measure,) following the traces of Hercules and Liber, yet not content himself to bound his ambition within the limits where they ceased, he respected what companions in honour the Corinthians had presented him with, And thereby finding himselfe to be compared with Hercules, he thought that alrea­die he was possessed of heauen, which vaine and fruitlesse hope hee foolishly embraced. For tell me, I pray you, wherein might this yong foole in any thing resemble or compare himselfe with Hercules, who had but happie temeritie in stead of resolution and value. The true diffe­rence betwixt Hercules and Alexander. Hercules atchieued no conquest for his owne par­ticular interest, he trauersed the whole world, not desiring possessions, but re­uenging iniuries. What desire of conquest, or affection of profit, could this E­nemie of euill men, this Protector of good men, this Pacifier both of Land and Sea in any sort conceiue or haue? But this man from his yong yeares was a Theefe, a Forager of Countries, the ruine both of his Friends and Enemies, who held it for his chiefest happinesse to bee a terrour to all mortall men; re­membring not that not only the most cruell beasts, but also the most [...]eeble and coward, are redoubted, and feared for their pernicious venome.

CHAP. XIIII.

LEt vs now returne vnto our purpose. That benefit which is giuen to euery man, is gratefull to no man. No man will euer thinke that a Tauerner or Hos [...]ler entertaineth him as a friend. No man supposeth himselfe to be inuited by him that furnisheth a feast to entertaine a whole Citie. For a man may say, what pleasure hath he done me? he hath fauoured me no otherwise than hee would a stranger, or an enemie, or the basest fellow, or plaier, he might haue met withall. But hee thought me more worthie or better esteemed than any other? nothing lesse: that which hee hath done is but to content his owne humour and infirmitie. If thou desirest that thy presents may be acceptable, make choise of some rare thing. Who will accompt himselfe obliged for a curtesie which is done vnto [Page 14] euery man? Let no man interpret these thinges in that nature as if I would re­straine mens liberalitie, and represse them more than reason required. I will not so bound the same that it may not bee generall, or emploied where a man pleaseth; yet my desire is that it should not be extrauagant or misimploied, but iustly intended. A man may so sort his good turnes, and so honestly distribute the same, that they who haue receiued them, although they bee many, may suppose that they are not fauoured in common, but in particular. Let euery man haue some familiar note, whereby he that receiueth may coniecture that he is more inwardly respected by him that bestoweth the benefit. Let vs giue him an occasion to say; I haue not receiued more than that other man, but that which was giuen me came with a freer bountie and good will. I haue re­ceiued the same present which an other man had, yet I more speedily and rea­dily than he, Meanes to fashi­on men to acce­ptance and gra­tuitie. where as hee long before had merited the same. Some there are that haue had the same fauours, yet not deliuered with the same gratulatorie speeches, nor presented with the like curtesie from the Benefactor. This man receiued after he had intreated for his benefit, but I, when I was besought to accept the same. Such a man receiued a rich present; tis true: but hee could more easily giue recompence; for being as hee is a man of many yeares, and without heires, he promiseth great hopes to the Benefactor. But that which I receiued is of more esteeme, because that which he hath giuen me is without all hope of restitution. Euen as a Curtizan so diuideth her selfe amongst many, that each one hath a particular insinuation & proofe to be more fauoured than the rest: So he that desireth that his curtesies should be esteemed, ought to be­thinke him, not only in what sort he may oblige all men vnto him, but how e­uery one may haue something whereby he may thinke that he is preferred be­fore the rest. For mine owne part I desire not to restraine any man from distri­buting his liberalities as him listeth: the more and greater his largesse is, the more honourable and praise-worthy they be; yet wish I notwithstanding that his bountie should be bounded with iudgment. For these thinges that are gi­uen rashly and without consideration, are neuer well reputed or accompted of. For this cause if any man should thinke that in commanding this, I would by this meanes banish and exterminate liberalitie, and should not afford the same limits large enough; Vndoubtedly hee hath made but little vse and receiued lesse profit of these my instructions. For is there any vertue that I haue more prized? or whereunto I haue more incited men than to that? to whom apper­taineth these exhortations and instructions more than to me, who by liberali­tie would establish and assure a firme commerce and societie amongst men?

CHAP. XV.

Reason & iudge­mēt ought to ac­companie libera­litie: prodigalitie extingu [...]sheth it. HAppily thou wilt enquire how farre Bountie ought to be limited, for that it is certaine, that action or designe of the soule can be de­cent or honest, although it hath had his originall from a iust will, but that whose waight and iust measure is transformed into ver­tue? To this I answere, that here I only pretend, that liberalitie ought not to be prodigall or misimploied. Then is it that a man should be glad to haue receiued a good turne, (yea willingly, and with open handes [...]) when reason and iudgement hath addressed it to their handes, who are worthy of the same, when by temeritie of fortune, or by heat of courage, it is not vnprouided [Page 15] and disfurnished of good counsaile, and when a man may take pleasure to shew it to the world, and professe himselfe to be the Author. Wilt thou esteeme that for a benefit which thou hast receiued from such a mans handes, whom thou art ashamed to name? Contrariwise, how much more agreeable are those good turnes vnto vs, how inwardly are they grounded and ingrafted in our memo­ries, (from whence they are inseparable) when they content vs, and make our thoughts more pleasing, in imagining from whom, than what we haue recei­ued? Crispus Pasienus was accustomed to say, that he more esteemed other mens iudgments, than their gifts, and other mens gifts, than their iudgement; and an­nexed this example; I had rather (said he) haue AV [...]VSTVS iudgement, yet loue I well CLAVDIVS bountie. But for mine owne part, I thinke that no man ought to desire a benefit at his handes, whose iudgement is deficient and idle. What then? should not that which Claudius gaue be receiued? why not? but in such manner as if thou hadst receiued it from Fortunes hand, which thou mightest imagine might sodainly become a misfortune. But why saiest thou should wee separate those thinges which are so vnited? because wee cannot call that a benefit which wanteth his principall part, that is, to be done and giuen with heartinesse and deliberation. A great summe of money, if it be not giuen prudently, and with a will grounded on reason, is a treasure, but no benefit.

Finally, there are many thinges which wee may receiue, and yet not bee obliged for them.

The end of the first Booke of Benefits.
[...]
[...]

LVCIVS ANNAEVS SENECA Of Benefits. THE SECOND BOOKE.

The Argument of IVSTVS LIPSIVS.

HE assumeth and intreateth of an other part, How Benefits are to bee giuen. Hee giueth many precepts hereupon; that wee bestow them wil­lingly, speedily, and without dubitation. That some thinges are to bee giuen openly, other some thinges secretly. Then what they are which are hurtfull, if they be not giuen, although they be demanded, and yet not dishonest, and such as may breede future infamie. Then that the persons ought to be esteemed both of him that giueth, and him that receiueth, that both of them may be decent. An other part of the booke: How he that receiueth should behaue him­selfe, from whom he receiueth, and how, especially gratefully. By occasion he decideth what it is that maketh men vngratefull: Pride, Auarice, Enuie: Finally, in many wordes he disputeth of gratitude, and proueth that it consisteth on will, where as wealth and meanes wanteth.

CHAP. I.

LET vs looke into and examine that (most wor­thie Liberalis) which as yet remaineth of the first; that is to say: In what manner wee ought to be­stow a benefit. To the better performance where­of I shall in my opinion set downe the most expe­dite way and meanes. So let vs giue as we would receiue a good turne. But aboue all thinges what we doe, let vs doe willingly, speedily, and with­out hesitation or doubting: Vngratefull is that be­nefit that hath long time stuck betwixt his fingers that giueth the same, that a man seemeth hardly to part withall; and deliue­reth in such sort, as if he had robbed himselfe of it. Yea if wee cannot giue so soone as we would, and that we are enforced to delay our benefit, let vs striue at leastwise by all the meanes possible, He that delaieth or dallieth in his bountie, looseth his gift & merit. that it be not supposed, that we haue hung long time in deliberation or suspition, whether we should giue or no: Hee that doubteth, is next to him that denieth, and deserueth no thankes for the same. [Page 18] For since in a benefit there is nothing more agreeable than the will of him that giueth the same, hee that in delaying giueth vs to vnderstand that hee giueth a­gainst his will, in effect giueth nothing, but rather knew not how to keepe it from his clutches, that drew it from his handes. Diuers there are that are bountifull for shame sake: but those pleasures that are readily bestowed, that are giuen before they are demanded, that are vnattended by any delay (except it bee the modestie of him that receiueth the same) are farre more agreeable. First of all it behooueth vs to preuent euery mans desire, Willingnesse and preuention are the signes of a free and liberall minde, delay and dilatum of a suspitious and niggardly heart. and afterwards to fol­low the same. But the best is to preuent and present our fauours before they be sought after. And for that an honest man blusheth alwaies for modestie when he demandeth any thing, whosoeuer he be that remitteth and excuseth him of this torment, redoubleth and multiplieth the pleasure. He receiued not gratis, that receiued when hee demanded. Because (according to the opinion of the grauest Authors and our Ancestors) there is nothing that costs so much, as that which is bought with praiers. Yes, grace that is purchased by praiers. Men would more sparingly tender their vowes vnto the gods, if they should doe it openly; and rather desire wee in se­cret to pray and performe our vowes vnto them, because our desire is that our thoughts should be only knowne vnto them.

CHAP. II.

THe wordes are distastfull, and full of disturbance, for a man of ho­nour (with abashed and abased looke) to say, I beseech you. La­bour thou then to excuse thy friend herein, and whomsoeuer else thou intendest to oblige vnto thee by thy bountie. How for­wardly soeuer a man giue, that giueth after he is intreated, let him know this lesson, that hee giueth too late. Indeauour therefore to diuine and fore-see euery mans will; and when thou vnderstandest the same, discharge him of the grieuous necessitie of asking. Know thou that that benefit is most pleasing, and of longest perpetuitie in mans memorie, That comes vnsought for and vndemanded. And if happily thou hast not had the oportunitie to pre­uent his necessitie, yet at leastwise intercept the reasons and motiues which hee should vse in requesting thy curtesie: Vrbanitie in a Heathen inimi­table by Christi­ans, as the Chri­stian world is carried in these daies. thou oughtest to make him beleeue by thy readinesse and forwardnesse, that thou hadst a desire to doe him friendship be­fore hee demanded the same. And as meate which is presented a sicke man in due season profiteth him much; And simple water being giuen in time of ne­cessitie, is sometimes of as much worth & value as a medicine: euen so a pleasure although it be but little and small in value, if it be freely and fitly giuen, if it be done in due time, and fitting to the occasion, valueth and commendeth it selfe the more, and surmounteth the estimate and worth of a rich and precious pre­sent, which hath beene long time deuised and dreamt vpon. It is not to bee doubted, but that hee who so readily distributed his largesse, performed the same as willingly. And therefore with ioyfulnesse fulfilleth he that he inten­ded, and thereby giueth testimonie of his good minde.

CHAP. III.

THe immesurable silence of some, and their slownes in speech (the first-borne-breed of sullennes and sottish grauitie) hath made ma­ny men loose their benefits, notwithstanding their great worth and valew. For although they promise with their tongues, they deny in the carriage of their eyes. How farre better were it to ac­company good workes with good words, and to giue credite to the good office thou doest with familiar and curteous language? Challenge him that requireth aught at thy hands, for this cause, that hee hath deferred so long time to make vse of thee, in forming against him this familiar quarrell: Termes befitting a liberall mind. I am much displeased with thee, for that thou hast not acquainted me sooner with that which thou desirest at my hands, for that thou hast vsed too many ceremonies and circum­stances in requiring my helpe; for that thou hast imployed a third meanes for that which thou mightest haue commaunded thy selfe: For mine owne part, I hold my selfe most happy and contented, that thou hast sought to make proofe of the good affection I beare thee. From hence forth if thou be pressed with a­ny necessitie, commaund and claime whatsoeu [...]r is min [...] as thine owne: Let this one error passe, I pardon thy rusticitie. Hereby shalt thou make him esteem and valew thy noble mind more, than all that hee came to claime at thy hands, how precious soeuer it be. Then doth the benefactors vertue most manifestly appeare, then is his bountie remarkeable, when as the other passing from him, shall depart muttering to himself [...]: Great hath beene my gaines this day; It more contents mee that I haue found him such a man, than if the benefite had b [...]ene redoubled vnto me by any other way, for to a mind such as this is I shall neuer yeeld retribution or condigne satisfaction.

CHAP. IIII.

BVt many there be, that by the bitternesse of their words, and the crabbednesse of their lookes, The errours of those that giue after an euill manner. make their fauours odious, by vsing such speech, and expressing such pride, that it repenteth him that demaunded the curtesie, that hee hath obtained it. It falleth out oftentimes likewise, that after the promise made, there are some delayes and procrastinations: yet is there not any thing more loathsome and distastefull, A lost curtesie to receiue after much crauing. than when a grace is once graunted, to be inforced to go and rede­maund it againe. The fauours wee intend, ought not to bee deferred, which cost more sometimes in their recouerie than in their promise. This man must thou beseech to put his Lord in remembrance, that man to receiue the fauour for thee; thus one simple gift (by passing thorow many mens hands) is dimi­nished and lessened very much, and hee hath least satisfaction that hath made promise thereof. For they, whom afterwards we must importune, get the bet­ter part of the thankes. If therefore thou wilt haue thy giftes to be acceptable and gratefull, thou must procure that they passe thorow their handes that sought the same vntouched and intire, and (as they say) without any diducti­on. Let no man intercept, let no man detaine them; there is no man that in that which thou art to giue, can purchase any credit, but that he impaireth and diminisheth thine.

CHAP. V.

Refusall i [...] bet­ter [...]an incer­ [...]aintie. THere is nothing more tedious and irksome to a man, than to hang long in suspence. There are some that had rather that the hopes of their pretensions were scantled, than delayed. And many there are (too fowly possessed of this vice) that with a depraued ambition protract and deferre those things they haue alreadie promised, to no other end, but to encrease the number of those that solicite and sue to them. Such are these ministers of kingly maiesty, who take delight in the admiration, A paterne of a prowd Cour [...]r. which other men conceiue of their greatnesse and pompe, who thinke themselues disabled in their power, if by many delayes and longer pro­crastinations they make not euery man vnderstand how powerfull and graced they bee. They performe nothing speedily, they dispatch nothing at once. Their iniuries are headlong and sodaine, their benefits silly and slow. Where­fore thinke that most true which the Comicke Poet saith:

Do'st thou not so much of thy thankes diminish,
As thou delay'st thy benefite to finish?

From thence arise those complaints which ingenious sorrow expresseth, Do speedily, if thou wilt doe any thing; and nothing is more deare. I had rather thou shoul­dest haue vtterly denyed me. Such maner of discourse vse they at that time that are wearied with a long delay, which maketh them alreadie contemne and hate the good, which they heartily expected. Can they for this be esteemed vngratefull? Euen as that crueltie is the greatest that bringeth out and protra­cteth the pain [...], and to dispatch a man of life quickely, is in some occasions a kind and sort of mercy, (because in the end the last torment draweth with it selfe the remainder of it selfe, T [...]ue liberalitie [...] imp [...]t [...]ent of d [...]l [...]y. and the time precedent, is the greatest part of the punishment that succeedeth:) so the lesse time I am held in suspence, the grea­ter thankes owe I for the fauour I receiue. The expectation of things, how good and honest soeuer they be, is both tedious and displeasant: and where as there are many benefits which are a totall remedy to some instant necessity; he that suffereth the indigent either to be tortured by delay, whom forth with he could dispatch, or maketh him languish in expectation, and grow forlorne be­fore he compasse the fauour, abuseth his owne benefit, and laies violent hands on his owne good worke. Bis dat qui ci­to dat. All true liberalitie is addressed and expedite, and it is the propertie of him that doth willingly, to doe quickely. He that giueth la­ter than he should doe, and wearieth out both time and occasion, before he as­sist and succor the indigent, witnesseth by his actions, that he had neuer a will to succor him. And by this meanes looseth hee in one benefit two most im­portant things, that is to say, time, and the argument of his friendly intention and will, because to wil a thing ouer-late, is not to will it at all.

CHAP. VI.

IN all affaires (Liberalis) that which importeth most, is the maner and fashion of speaking or doing any thing. Celeritie hath done much, [...] fit similitude. Delay hath defrauded more. Euen as in weapons of all sorts, the edge and point both of the one and of the other, are of the same force and keenen [...]sse as the rest are; but there is a great [Page 21] difference in them, The maner of giuing maketh the gift ei [...]her plausible or di­st [...]efull. if they be inforced by a brawnie and forcible arme, or ma­naged by a faint and feeble arme. It is one and the same sword, that sleightly raceth and rudely pierceth thorow: that which most importeth, is the strength of the arme that gouerneth it. The like may be said of that which a man gi­ueth; the onely difference is, in the manner of giuing. O how precious, and how sweete a thing is it, to encounter with a Benefactor, that consenteth not to be clawed with acclamations and thankes-giuings! and that as soone as hee bestoweth a beneuolence, forgetteth the same! for to reproue him to whome thou arte most beneficiall, and to intermix iniuries and outrages with curtesies and good turnes, is no lesse than madnesse. Benefits therefore are not to be ex­asperated or intermedled with any distaste or misliking. Though happily thou hast something that thou hast reason to reprehend him in, reserue it till an o­ther time more proper and conuenient.

CHAP, VII.

FABIVS VERRVCOSVS called that disgracefull curtesie, Inforced curte­sie hath no me­rit [...]. which was presented by a niggardly hand, Grauelly and stale bread; which a hungrie man must of necessitie take, yet can hardly eate, Tiberius Caesar being requested by Marcus Allius (who had been Praetor) to discharge him of those many debts, wherein hee was engaged: Caesar commaunded him to set downe the names of all his creditors. This is not properly to giue, but to summon them to whom he owed any thing to composition. As soone as hee had receiued the register of their number, he wrote a schedule wherein he commaunded to pay his prodigall nephews debt, and gaue it to him, and therewithall so bitter and contumelious a reprehension, as the poore man was so much dismayed, that hee neither knew that hee had receiued any money for his creditors, from the Emperours hands; or any fa­uour for himselfe: He deliuered him from his Creditors, but obliged not him vnto himselfe. Some motiue there was that guided Tiberius herein; and in my iudgement, He excuseth Tiberiu [...] in some sort. that he did, was to the end, that no man should importune him more in such like requests; and this happily was an effectuall way, thorow the shame and reproofe of one man to represse the disordinate desires of couetous­nesse in all other men. Yet hee that giueth a benefit, must absolutely follow a farre different way.

CHAP. VIII.

BY any meanes procure thou, that whatsoeuer thou intendest to giue, may be adorned with all that which either may make thy gift more acceptable, or better receiued: for otherwise thou dost no good worke, but disclose and reprehend an hidden error. And that I may expresse by the way (in my iudgement) what my opinion is herein, me thinkes it is a thing ill-beseeming a Prince, to giue a fauour with an affront and infamie: neuerthelesse, for all this Tiberius could neuer by this manner of dealing flie that whith hee feared: for many others came afterwards and be­sought him in the same sort, and for the same reliefe as Allius did, all whome he commanded to informe the Senate, in what maner they had spent that mo­ney [Page 22] they had borrowed, and thereupon gaue them certaine summes of mony. This is no liberalitie, but a censure; this is no succour, but a principall tribute. Because that cannot be esteemed a good worke, which I cannot call to memo­rie without blushing, and disgrace: I am sent to the Iudge, to obtaine that which I required, I was inforced to suffer a criminall proces.

CHAP. IX.

The two-fold manner of em­ploying benefi [...]s. THe Wise men therefore, and such as are Authors of Wisedome, aduise, that some benefites are to be giuen openly, othersome se­cretly. Those are openly to be giuen, which may honour and magnifie him that receiueth them, such as are Militarie presents and dignities, and whatsoeuer other gift, which the more pub­like and notorious it is, the more honorable it becommeth. Againe, those gifts, which neither promote nor aduance a mans fortune, nor augment his reputa­tion, but onely succour his infirmitie, his necessitie, and ignominy: must be gi­uen so secretly, that hee onely may take notice thereof that hath the benefite and assistance thereby. And sometimes also we ought to deceiue him that wee intend to relieue, in such a sort as our gift may come vnto his hands, and yet he ignorant from whom he receiued the same.

CHAP. X.

He proueth by example that fauors are to be done in secret. ARcesilaus (as it is reported) being aduertized, that a poore friend of his (who concealed his necessities, as much as in him lay) was fallen sicke, and yet notwithstanding would not discouer the po­uertie he indured in his sickenesse; bethought him that he should not doe amisse, to relieue him secretly. For which cause, vnder colour to come and vi [...]ite him, hee left a bagge full of money vnder the sicke mans pillow; to the end that the poore soule (being more bashfull than wise) might rather thinke that hee had found that which hee desired, than that hee receiued it as a benefite. What then? should hee not know (saiest thou) from whom the fauour came? No. At the first let him bee ignorant thereof, sith the not knowing thereof is a better part of the good worke. Afterwards I will doe him many other pleasures, I will giue him so many other things, that in the end hee shall perceiue who was the first Author of them: Finally, hee shall not know that he hath receiued, and I shall vnderstand that I haue giuen. Mee thinkes thou tellest me, that this is nothing. I answer thee, That it is in­sufficient, if so it be, that by thy good worke thou seekest interest and praise: but if thou desirest to doe it in that kinde, that it may be more and better pro­fitable to him that receiueth the same, thou wouldest content thy selfe to bee a witnesse, that thou thy selfe diddest it. Because thou seemest not to take plea­sure in doing thy good worke, but desirest to make it knowne, that thou hast done the same: I will (saiest thou) that hee know that I did him the good turne. This is to seeke out a debtor. But my desire is (saiest thou) that hee should knowe it. Tell mee why? If it bee more profitable for him that re­ceiueth [Page 23] the benefite, not to know whence it commeth; if it be more honest, and more agreeable that he know it not,: wilt thou not in this point be of our opinion? I will that hee know it. Thou wouldst not then saue a mans life if the night were darke. I deny not but that vpon some iust occasion it may bee lawfull for a man to take some contentment in his thankefulnesse that hath re­ceiued a benefit. Doe your chari­tie secretly, that you may be re­warded openly. But if then when it is needefull to assist and succor our friend, we perceiue that he should receiue some disgrace thereby, if the good that wee doe him, shall sort to his indignitie, except it be done secretly: We ought not to insinuate or make knowne our good turnes. Were it answerable to honestie to tell him that it was I that haue giuen it him? whereas by the precise and principall precepts I am forbidden at any time to vpbraid him, or to refresh the memorie of my fauour done vnto him: An inuiolable lawe in doing good. For this is an inuiolable lawe be­twixt him that giueth, and him that receiueth, that the one ought incontinent­ly to forget the good he hath done, and the other ought to haue a continuall remembrance of that which he hath receiued. There is nothing that more ty­reth and trauaileth a good mind, than to be oftentimes reproched and vpbrai­ded with those pleasures which haue beene shewen him.

CHAP. XI.

IT contenteth me much to make a publique narration of that ex­clamation which a certaine Roman vsed, who had been saued by one of Caesars friends (during the time of the proscriptions of the Triumuirate) who being vnable any further to indure his pride, most manfully cried out thus; Redeliuer me I pray thee to C [...] ­sar, and the power of Iustice: How long wilt thou reproach and vpbraide mee saying, I haue saued thee, I haue deliuered thee from death? If I forget not my selfe, I must confesse that thou gauest mee life; but if I remember mee of thy often reproches, I can not conceiue but that thou hast giuen mee death. I owe thee nothing; if thou hast saued me to no other end, but to make an osten­tation of thy vanitie. How long wilt thou lead me about for a spectacle to men, and a torture to my selfe? how long will it be [...]re thou suffer me to forget my hard fortune? Had I beene led in triumph by the enemy, it had beene but one day [...]s miserable spectacle. Secrecie must accompany be­nefites. Neuer ought wee to disclose that which wee haue giuen: hee that vpbraideth a curtesie redemaundeth it. Wee must not importune [...] we ought neuer to refresh the memorie of a former pleasure, but by seconding it by another. Neither ought we to disclose it vnto others. Let him that hath done the good office, conceale it: let him that hath receiued the same, disclose it. Otherwise it may be said vnto him as it was to one who pub­liquely vaunted and boasted of the pleasures hee had done [...] Happily (said hee that had r [...]ceiued the gift) thou wilt d [...]ny but that thou hast receiued againe that which thou gauest mee [...] And as the other asked him when? Hee answe­red; Many times, and in many places: As if [...]ee should say [...] As oftentimes, and in as many places as thou hast vaunted thereof vain [...]ly; what neede hadst thou to speake it? or vsurpe vpon an other man [...] office? An other man might haue done it more honestly, who reckoning vp the good hee hath receiued at thy hands, might praise thee in diuers things, which thou canst not, or doest not discouer. At leastwise thou wilt say of mee, that I am vngratefull, [...]f [Page 24] concealing thine owne bountie and desert, I make it not knowne who haue re­ceiued the same. But this ought not to be; but rather, if any should relate be­fore thee, what good thou hast done me, and the euill I commit, in not confes­sing thy goodnes, thou oughtest pesently to make this answer. Truly he is most worthy of farre greater benefites, which I know that I haue better will, than power to performe. Which speech wee ought to vtter, not with flattering dissimulation, or fained pretence, or as some men doe, who make a shew to reiect that which they would faine draw vnto them. Briefly, we ought to vse all kinde of sweet­nesse and curtesie, as much as in vs lieth. The husbandman should loose all his labour, if after hee hath cast his corne into the ground, he make no more recko­ning of that which hee hath sowed. The corne cannot come to maturitie with­out much manuring and regard, nothing can bring forth fruit, if from the be­ginning to the end it be not labored and handled with due industrie. The same condition is of all benefites. Can there be a greater care, and more circumspect diligence in this world, than that which the parents haue ouer their children? and yet their pains should be lost, if so be they should abandon them in their in­fancie: if their deuoire and paternall pietie should not nourish them long, Bounty must be accompanied with loue and charitie. and tenderly protect that vnto the end which Nature hath recommended vnto them. All other benefites are of the selfe same condition; except thou helpest them, thou loosest them. It is a small matter to haue giuen them. Wee must likewise nourish them. If thou wilt haue them thankefull who are obliged vnto thee, thou must not onely giue them bountifully, but loue them heartily. But especially (as I said) let vs haue a care that we offend not their [...]ares; admoni­tion is tedious, reproach ingendreth hatred. There is nothing so much to bee auoyded in giuing a benefite, as for a man to shew him selfe proud. Whereto serueth an arrogant and disdainefull looke? to what end are swelling and re­prochfull words? Pride maketh charitie nothing. Thine owne good workes will sufficiently praise thee: wee ought to alien from vs all vaine boasting. The actions will expresse themselues when wee are silent. That which a man giueth proudly, is not onely displea­sant, but also odious.

CHAP. XII.

CAEsar gaue Pompeius Pennus his life (if it may be said, that hee gi­ueth life that taketh it not away.) Afterwards, when he had ab­solued him, and the other humbled himselfe to giue thankes; Caesar presented him his left foote to kisse. In [...]olence of great fortune. They that pretend to excuse him, and deny that it was done by way of insolence, say, Homer hath al­w [...]yes some body [...] s [...]o [...]h his errours. that hee did it but to shew his gilded Buskins; or rather, or more rightly, his buskins of gold, enchaced and enriched with precious pearles. In so doing, what outrage might the [...]e be? What euill was it for a man (although in for­mer times he had beene Consul) to kisse gold and pearle, since no better place might bee found more seemely and honest in Caesars person for him to kisse? A man only borne to change and reduce the manners of an absolute and free State into seruitude, worse than that of the Persians: he thought it a small mat­ter than an old Senator, who in times past had been graced with so many and great honours, should in the presence of Princes in submissiue sort li [...] prostrate before him, after the manner of a vanquished Enemie before the feete of the [Page 25] Conque [...]or. This was he that indeuoured to finde something out more base [...] than the knee, whereby he might subiect and suppresse the libertie of Rome. Is not this to treade the Maiestie of a Common-weale vnder foot? Yea with a left foot will some men say (and very answerable to the purpose [...]) For he had not shewed himselfe vilainously furious and insolent enough, to haue taken his faire buskins to assist and sit in iudgement vpon the life of one who had be [...]ne a Consull, if the Emperour had not also thrust his studs and golden buttons into a Senators mouth.

CHAP. XIII.

O Pride of great fortune! O pernicious folly! O how happie is hee that is not constrained to receiue any pleasure at thy handes! O how well art thou instructed to conuert each benefit into in­iurie! How much art thou delighted in outrage and excesse! O how ill doe all things beseeme them! O how highlie raisest thou thy selfe, to abase thy selfe more lowly! O how approuest thou, that thou ac­knowledgest not those goods wherein thou takest so much pride! Thou cor­ruptest whatsoeuer thou giuest. I would aske thee therefore for what cause thou thus forgettest thy selfe? what peruerteth both thy lookes and the habit of thy countenance? hadst thou rather goe masked than shew thy face open? most pleasing are those curtesies which are giuen with a kinde, smiling, and plea­sing countenance, which when my Superiour gaue me, he exulted not ouer me; but as much as in him lay shewed me all the benignitie & fauour that he could imagine, and abasing himselfe so farre as to equall himselfe with me, he disclo­thed his gifts of all kinde of pompe, he obserued a fit time, wherein rather hee might helpe me vpon occasion, than in necessitie. In one and the same sort, in my iudgement, wee may perswade these men that they loose not their benefits through insolence, if we shall proue vnto them that their benefits do not there­fore seeme more great, because they haue been giuen with insolent and tumul­tuous speeches; and that they themselues cannot for so doing seeme greater in any mans eies; and that the greatnesse of pride is but vaine, and such, as that it draweth the thinges of most esteeme into hatred and contempt.

CHAP. XIIII.

SOme thinges there are which proue so harmefull and preiudiciall to those that receiue the same, that to denie them, and not to giue them, proueth to be fauour and benefit. This say I, because we ought rather to intend the profit, than the affection and will of those that require our fauours. For oft-times we wish and labour for those thinges that are damageable vnto vs. Neither can wee iudge how harmefull it is, because our affection blindeth and perturbeth our iudgement; but when the desire is pacified and allaid, when that ardent impression and im­pulsion of the minde (which exileth from it selfe all good counsaile) is extin­guished and abated, then abhorre we those pernicious Authors of those vnhap­pie and euill gifts. Discretion in be­neuolence. Euen as to sicke men wee denie water, and to those that are melancholie and loath their li [...]es, a knife; or to such as are in loue, all that which [Page 26] their inflamed and ardent affection, or rather desperation, doteth after. So ought we to perseuer diligently and humbly in denying and refusing all that which may doe much harme to those who miserably and blindly demaund it at our hands. Furthermore, it importeth euerie man to haue a care and obseruation, not onely of the beginning of his gifts, but of the end and issue also, which they ought to haue; and so procure, that they may be such things, that not onely giue content in the receiuing, but delight also when they are receiued. Many there are that say, I know that this will not be profitable vnto him, but what shall I doe? He entreateth me, and I cannot denie his suit: let him looke vnto it, he shall complaine of himselfe, and not of me. Thou abusest thy selfe, and art deceiued: it is of thee and none other (and that iustly) he will complaine, as soone as he shall recouer his senses and perfect wits; and that passion which perturbed and inflamed his mind, remitteth and ceaseth. And why should hee not hate such a man who assisted him to his damage and danger? To condes­cend vnto his request that asketh that which will be harmefull vnto him, is a cruell bountie, and a pleasing and affable hatred: Let vs giue such things as may please more and more by their vse, and that may neuer breede any damage. I will not giue money which in my knowledge shall be giuen vnto a harlot, be­cause I desire not to be partaker in any dishonest action, or in euill counsell. Limitations in bountie. If I can, I will at leastwise retyre him; if not, I will not boulster or further his sinne. Whether it be choller that transporteth him farther than becommeth him, or heat of ambition misleadeth him from the secur [...]st course, I will not so farre forget my selfe, that hereafter he may say, He hath killed me with kindnesse. Oftentimes there is verie little difference betwixt a friends gift and an enemies wishes and execution. All the mischiefe an enemie can wish vs, the foolish affection of a friend may bring vs: There is nothing more absurd (and yet this oftentimes falleth out) than not to know a difference betwixt hate and fauour.

CHAP. XV.

LEt vs neuer giue any thing that may redound to our disgrace and domage. And since the greatest friendship we can intend to any man, is to make him equall with our selues, and suffer him in e­uerie sort and ioyntly to enioy our goods and fortunes; so ought we equally to aduise him to the good and honour of vs both. I will giue vnto him in his necessitie, Proximus vnusquisque sibi. yet in such manner and measure, that I will shunne mine owne miserie: If I see him in danger of life, I will succour him; prouided alwaies, that I be ascertained of mine owne securitie: except I shall be the ransome of some great man, or some affaire of greater importance. I will do no good turne that I would be ashamed to aske: I will not greaten that which is of small value; neither will I consent, that such a thing, which in it selfe is of much worth, should be receiued with little estimation: For euen as he looseth the grace and remuneration of his good worke, that registreth the same in the booke of his accompts; so he that sheweth how great the pleasure is which he hath done, priseth not, but reprocheth and dispraiseth his pleasure he hath done. Let euerie man haue a respect to his facultie and [...]orces, least ei­ther wee giue more or succour lesse than is answerable to our abilities. Respect of persons. Let vs also haue a respect and esteeme of the person and qualitie of him to whom wee [Page 27] giue; because there are some gifts that are of lesse value than the greatnesse of him that giueth the same requireth; and other-some which are not answerable to the merit of him that receiueth the same. Conferre therefore and compare with thy selfe the conditions of him that giueth, and him that receiueth, and examine the qualities of that which is giuen (whether it be little or much) in respect of him that giueth the same; and whether likewise thy present be too little for him that receiueth, or whether he be incapable of so much.

CHAP. XVI.

THat furious and outragious Alexander (who neuer setled his thoughts but on great and mightie enterprises) foolishly gaue a Citie to a certaine follower of his; Alexanders indiscr [...]tion in giuing is the cause why he is taxed in this place. who measuring his owne vn­worthinesse, and desirous to discharge himselfe of the enuie hee might incurre, by receiuing so great a benefit, came vnto Alexan­der, and told him, That neither in fortune or condition he deserued so much. To whom Alexander answered [...] I respect not what becommeth thee to receiue, but that which in honor becommeth me to giue: A speech that in appearance was both kingly and heroicall, but in effect most fond and foolish. For all those things which are a mans owne, become not other men to receiue or accept; Circumstances in giuing. but it importeth vs to consider what that is which is giuen; to whom, when, why, in what place, and other circumstances, without which thou canst not iustifie thine action. O proud and insolent creature! If it becommeth not him to re­ceiue this thy gift, as little befitteth it thee to giue the same. There ought to be a difference and proportion both of persons and dignities, as whereas there is a measure in vertues euery wayes, as greatly sinneth he that exceedeth, as he that giueth too little. And although this beseemeth thee, and thy fortune hath raysed thee so high, that thy royall gifts are no lesse than Cities (which with how greater mind mightst thou not haue taken, than lauishly distributed) yet is there some more lesse, than that thou shouldest hide and burie a Citie in their bosomes.

CHAP. XVII.

DIOGENES the Cinique required a talent at Antigonus hands, and being repulsed by him, besought a penny: To which he answe­red, That it was too little for a Although these Pagans had not a perfect know­ledge of the ver­tue of wilfull pouertie, yet had they some re­semblance and smacke thereof, and in particu­lar there was a Sect of them called Ciniques, that were of this profession, a­mongst whom this Diogenes was one that re­quired this alme [...] a [...] Antigonus h [...]nds. Cinique to aske, or a King to giue. This was but a bare and idle c [...]uill: For hereby found he out an inuention to giue neither: in the penny he respected and had reference to his Kingly maiestie; in the talent to the Cinique: whereas he might haue giuen a penny as to a Cinique, and a talent as he was a King. I must needly graunt, that there are some things of so great value, that they should not be giuen vnto a Cinique, yet is there nothing likewise so little, that a libe­rall and courteous King cannot honestly giue. But if thou aske my opinion herein, I cannot but allow Antigonus action: For it is an intolerable error in those who make profession to contemne money, afterwards to beg it shame­fully. Thou hast proclaimed open warre against wealth and riches, thou hast publikely protested thy hatred against money: This habit hast thou taken on [Page 28] thee, and this needly must thou personate. Vnworthily and wickedly shalt thou doe to hunt and haunt after money, vnder pretence of so laudable a pouer­tie and necessitie as thou professest. It concerneth each man therefore to haue as great a regard and respect of himselfe, as of him to whom he would doe a pleasure. There must be a proportion in good workes betwixt the giuer and the receiuer I will vse our friend Chrysippus similitude of the play at ball, which vndoubtedly falleth either through his default that serueth the same, or his that receiueth it: Then doth the ball keepe his due course, when as betwixt the hands of both the gamesters, it fitly flyeth to and fro, being serued by the one, and reinforced backe againe by the other: yet ought a good Tennis-player to serue either easily or strongly, according as he perceiueth his companion to be further or neerer off him. The same reason is there in good deedes: for if they be not answerably applyed to the person of him that giueth, and him that receiueth, they will neuer slip from the hands of the one, or come in­to the posses [...]ion of the other, according as they ought to doe. If we passe the time with an exercised and cunning gamester, we will strike the ball more bold­ly and sti [...]fely: for on which side soeuer it is bandied, an expedite and nimble hand will returne and strike it backe. Contrariwise, if wee play with a nouice and young learner, we neither will strike it so stiffely, not leuell it so strongly; but seruing and striking it gently, we will giue the ball to his hand; and if he rebandie it backe, we returne it as gently. The same manner must wee ob­serue in doing our good workes: Let vs teach some how to receiue them, and iudge it a sufficient recompenc [...], if they endeuor themselues to be thankfull; if they are, if they will be thankefull. For oftentimes wee make them vn­gratefull, and helpe to keepe them so, as if our good turnes were euery way so great, that there might not be a thankefulnesse which might in any sort equall them. The same pretend those malicious gamesters, that deceiue and chase their contrarie partie here and there, to the spoyle of the game, which cannot be maintained and continue, except ther [...] be consent and conformitie between them both. There are diuers of so peruerse and diuellish a nature, so proud, and imputatiue in that they bestow, that they had rather loose that which they lent, than to seeme that they haue receiued the same. Were it not a more bet­ter and friendly course to suffer them to acquit their deuoir towards vs, and to fauor and succour them, when they would acknowledge the goods which they haue receiued at our hands? To take all in good part, and at such time as they should onely giue thankes in words, to giue them as fauorable audience as if they satisfied vs, and to allow that he who findeth himselfe obliged to vs, should haue the meanes to recompence vs? That Vsurer is commonly hardly thought of, if he exact his debts rudely. He likewise is worse thought of, if then when his money is tendered him, he will not receiue it, but deferreth to admit the payment. A benefit is as worthily receiued backe againe when it is returned, as it is giuen honestly, The conditions of a perfect and absolute well-giuer. when it is vndemaunded. The best well-doer is he, that hath done a courtesie freely, and neuer sought requitall, that tooke a pleasure when as any man could freely repay that which he had friendly lent and giuen, and vtterly forgotten, and that receiueth not as a returne of his fauor, but as a grace and remuneration.

CHAP. XVIII.

SOme there are that not onely giue a benefit proudly, Here beginneth the proo [...]e, that we ought not re­ceiue at euerie mans hands. but also re­ceiue it disdainefully, which ought to be auoided. But now let vs passe ouer to that other part, and entreat therein, how men should behaue themselues in receiuing benefites. Whatsoeuer act of vertue consisteth on two persons, exacteth as much from the one, as from the other: when as thou hast diligently examined what the fa­ther ought to be, thou shalt find it no lesse difficultie to conceiue what the sonne ought to be. There are some duties belonging to the husband, and some also that appertaine vnto the wife. These deserue one and the same rule and measure, which (as Hecaton sayth) is very hard to obserue and keepe. A hard matter is it to performe that which honesti [...] commandeth, yea that also which neerest approacheth honestie [...] For we are not onely tied to performe the same, but to performe it with reason. She it is that must be our guide in the way we are to hold. The things of smallest moment, Reason is the guide and di [...]po­ [...]er of liberalitie. and those of greatest impor­tance, are to be gouerned by her counsaile: and as she counsaileth, so ought we to giue. And first of all she will aduise vs this, That we ought not to receiue a fauour at euery mans hands. From whom then shall we receiue? To answere thee in a word; It is from those to whom wee would haue giuen. For more carefully ought wee to make choice of those from whom wee would receiue, than of those to whom we would giue: For least many inconueniences happen (which are wont to follow) know this, that it is a grieuous torment to be in­debted and obliged to him, to whom thou wouldest owe nothing. And con­trariwise, it is a thing most pleasing and agreeable, to haue receiued a benefit at his hands, whom although he should offer thee hard measure, thou couldest both loue and affect: But the greatest miserie [...]or a good and shamefast man is to loue and to be obliged to such a man a [...] he can neither fancie nor fauour. Here must I needly and oftentimes aduertise thee, that I speake not of those truly wi [...]e and vertuous men, which take pleasure in that which they ought to doe, and are Lords of their owne mindes; that prefixe such Lawes vnto them­selues as best liketh them; and hauing prefixed them, keepe them: but of these imperfect men, that are willing to follow vertue, whose affections and passions are forcibly impelled to obey reason. I ought then to make an especiall ele­ction and choise of him from whom I would receiue a pleasure; and it concer­neth me much more carefully to chuse and diligently seeke out such a one to whom I will impart my benefit, than such a one to whom I will trust my mo­ney: because that to the one I am not bound to restore any more than I haue receiued, and hauing repayed my debt, I am acquited and discharged ou [...] of his bookes: but to the other I must repay more than I haue receiued, and ha­uing recompenced the good he hath done me, yet is not this my entire obli­gation: the friendship must continue and flourish betweene vs. For after I haue remunerated his kindnesse, I am tied to renew and refresh it againe: And aboue all things the law of friendship admonisheth me, That I receiue not a kindnesse from any that is vnworthie. Such is the right, such is the sacred law of Benefits (from whence friendship taketh his originall.) It is not alwaies in our choice (as Hecaton sayth) to refuse a pleasure, and to say I will not accept it: We ought sometimes to receiue a benefit against our mindes. A Tyrant will giue thee somewhat; and so cruell and outragious is he, that if thou refu­sest [Page 30] his present, he will account it no lesse than an iniurie and indignitie: To this wilt thou say, shall I not accept the same? make reckoning that this King is a Theefe, and a Pirate, (since in minde he is no better than a Theefe, or a Pi­rate) what shall I doe in this case? I see that he is vnworthy that I should owe him any thing. To this I answere then, when I say that thou art to make thy choise of him, to whom thou wilt be obliged, it is not intended in a case of so great violence and feare; because where these preuaile, election perisheth: but if thou bee at thine owne choise, if thou hast libertie to elect what thou listest, then hast thou meanes to make vse of that which best pleaseth thee. But if the necessitie of occasion restraine thy election, know this, that thou doest not receiue, but obay: no man is obliged in receiuing a thing which hee cannot refuse; if thou desirest to know, if I would haue that thou giuest mee, bring to passe that I may refuse what thou offerest mee: But hee gaue thee thy life: it skilleth not what the thing is which is giuen, but whether hee that gaue, and he that receiued the gift, gaue and receiued the same willingly. Thou art not therefore my defender, because thou hast saued mee. Poyson sometimes hath beene a medicine, and yet for all that it is not numbred amongst those thinges that are holsome. Some thinges there are, which although they profit vs much, yet they oblige vs not.

CHAP. XIX.

A Certaine man that came with a resolution to kill a Tyrant, gaue him a stroke whereby hee opened him a dangerous impostume. For this the Tyrant gaue him no thankes, although by woun­ding him hee had healed him of a sicknesse, whereon his Physi­tions durst not lay their handes. Thou seest there is no great moment in the thing it selfe, because hee seemed not to haue giuen a benefit, who with an euill intention procured his profit. Fortune it was that wrought the good, and from the man it was the iniurie came: we haue beheld a Lyon in the Amphitheater, who calling to memorie one of those who had beene con­demned to fight against wild beasts (because in times past he had beene his Go­uernour) protected him from the furie of the rest. Shall wee not then say that the succours which the Lyon gaue was a benefit? No [...] Because he neither had will to doe it, neither did it to the intent to doe good. Wee are to repute and ranck him with this beast, who attempted to cut off the Tyrants life. Both this gaue life, and the other also, but neither this nor that a benefit; because it is no benefit, or good worke, which I am inforced to receiue. It is no benefit that maketh mee indebted to him I would not. First must thou giue mee the freedome and power of my selfe, and next the benefit.

CHAP. XX.

MEn haue oft-times debated and disputed of Marcus Brutus, whe­ther he ought to accept a grace, and receiue a pardon at Iulius Cae­sars handes, who in his iudgement deserued not to breath or liue. What reason moued Brutus to conspire and kill him, I will ex­presse and handle in an other place. For mine owne part, al­though [Page 31] I esteemed Brutus in all other thinges a wise and vertuous man, yet me seemeth that in this he committed a great errour, and neglected the Doctrine of the Stoickes; who either feared the name of a King, (whereas the best and most happiest estate of a Citie is to liue vnder a iust and vertuous Prince) or ho­ped that libertie would bee had there where so great a reward was prefixed to those that commanded, and those that serued; or imagined that such a Citie as this might repossesse her ancient honour, and former lustre, when vertue and the primitiue Lawes were either abolished, or wholly extinguished; Or that Iustice, Right, and Law, should be inuiolably obserued in such a place, where he had seene so many thousand men at shocke and battell, not to the intent to discerne whether they were to obay and serue, but to resolue them vnder whom they ought to serue and obay. O how great obliuion possessed this man! how much forgot he both the nature of affaires, and the state of his Citie! to suppose that by the death of one man there should not some other start vp after him, that would vsurpe ouer the common-weale; whereas after so many Kings slaughtered, either by the sword, or by lightning, they grew Vassalls and Sub­jects to a tyrannous This was the seuenth and last King of the Ro­manes, [...]alled (and that ius [...]ly) by the name of Tarquine the proud. He died a banished man out of his Coun­trey, and depri­ued of his King­dome. Tarquine; yet ought h [...] to haue accepted his life, and yet for all this notwithstanding was he not obliged to repute and esteeme him as his Father, for that iniurio [...]sly and against all right he had vsurped the authoritie, to giue him his life: For he saued him not, who flew him not, neither gaue hee him life, but dismissed him from dying.

CHAP. XXI.

THis rather, and more rightly, may be drawne into some question, what a poore captiue should doe, when as a man prostituted in body, infamous and dishonest in speech, offereth to pay downe the price of his ransome? Shall I suffer my selfe to be redeemed by so impure and base a wretch? and againe, when I am dischar­ged, what thankes shall I returne him? Shall I liue with an impudent and s [...]urri­lous fellow? shall I not liue with him that hath redeemed mee? no truly, for herein thus standeth my opinion. Euen from any such a one would I receiue the money which I would employ for my redemption, yet so would I receiue it as money vpon interest, not as an act of curtesie. I will repay him his money, and if after that I shall finde him in any danger, or pressed by necessitie, I will re­lieue his wants, preuent his danger, yet contract no such friendship with him, as should bee correspondent betwixt men of equall vertue. Neither will I rec­kon him for such a one as hath saued my life, but make accompt of him as an vsurer, to whom I know I must repay back againe that which I haue borrowed. Contrariwise, if there bee some worthy and vertuous person, from whom I should receiue a curtesie, yet ought I not receiue the same, if I knew that there­by hee should incurre any detriment, because that I am assured that he is ad­dressed (though it be to his owne hinderance, nay which is more, to the hazard of his life) to doe me a pleasure. I vnderstand that he is resolued (knowing me to bee accused of a capitall crime) to pleade my cause, and to vndertake my de­fence, though it be to his disgrace, and the displeasure of his Prince. I should shew my selfe an enemie vnto him (if indeuouring himselfe to vnder [...]goe dan­ger for my sake.) I should not performe that which is most easie for mee to ac­complish, that is, to entertaine the damage my selfe, without his detriment or [Page 32] danger. Here Hecaton setteth downe an example (which is no waies answe­rable to the purpose) of Archelaus, who would not receiue a certaine summe of money which was offered him by a yong man, who was subiect to the gouern­ment of his Father, because hee would not offend the couetous and niggardly parent. What did Archelaus herein that was worthy praise? Is it because hee would not receiue that which was stollen from his Father? Is it because hee would not entertaine the gift, least he should be tied to recompence, and restore it againe? What modestie or vertue vsed he in not accepting other mens monie? But leauing this, if it be necessarie to set downe an example of a generous mind, let vs make vse of Graecinus Iulius, a man of rare vertue; whom Caius Caesar put to death for this cause only; in that he was a better and honester man, than any one ought to be, who should liue with and vnder a Tyrant. This man, at such time as he receiued a certaine quantitie of money from the hands of his friends (who contributed and leuied the same to defray the charge and expence of those publique playes which he prepared) refused a great summe of money which This Fabius Persicus was Consul vnder Tibetius, a man of great note in Rome. Fabius Persicus sent vnto him. His friends which respected not him that sent the money, but only the money that was sent, reproued him, because he would not accept the same. Will you (said he) haue me receiue a benefit from such a man, whom I would not pledge, although he offered me the cup? And when as This Rebil­lius was Consul vnder Iulius Caesar, and Augustus Cae­sar, who died in his Consulship. Rebillius (one who sometimes had beene Consull, yet of no lesse infamie) had sent him a greater summe of money, and instantly intreated him to com­mand his seruants to receiue the same. I pray you (said he) pardon me, for PER­SICVS offered me the same, and yet I accepted it not. Here vndoub­tedly some rea­sons are deficient wh [...]nce grow [...]th this question, as may be gathered by the little con­formitie it hath wi [...]h that which g [...]h before. See Pincianus vpon this place. Whether is this to receiue presents, or to examine the receiuers?

CHAP. XXII.

WHen as we determine to receiue any thing, let vs receiue it with a glad some countenance, expressing thereby the pleasure which we take, and manifesting to the Bene [...]actor how thankefully wee accept the same, to the end that hee may gather the present fruit of his good worke. For it is a iust cause of gladnesse to see a mans friend contented; and more iust to bee the cause of his contentment. Let vs make it knowne vnto him that his presents were very pleasing vnto vs, let vs ex­presse the affections of our will [...] not only in his owne hearing, but in euery place wheresoeuer we be. For he that receiueth a good turne with gladsome accep­tance, hath alreadie satisfied the first paiment of the requitall.

CHAP. XXIII.

He that couertly desireth to re­ceiue a kindnesse hath but an euill intention. SOme there are that will not receiue but in secret, they admit not witnesses of the good which is done vnto them. Beleeue thou that such men haue very bad and base minds: Euen as he that doeth a good turne, ought not to publish the same, or make it knowne, but in as much as hee knoweth that hee that receiueth the same will conceiue a contentment thereby: so hee also that receiueth the same ought to make it publiquely knowne. Receiue not that which thou art a­shamed to owe. Some there are that secretly, and in corners, and by whispe­rings [Page 33] in the eare, giue thankes for the good they haue receiued: This is not mo­de [...]tie and shamefastnesse, but an vndoubted signe of their will and intent to de­nie the benefit. Hee that giueth thankes in secret, and admitteth no witnesses of the good he hath receiued, is vngratefull. Some there are that will borrow money, prouided that it be not in their owne names, n [...]ither certified by obli­gation, nor signed by witnesses. They that will not that any man should haue notice of the good is done vnto them, resemble such men. They are affraid to make it knowne, to the intent they may bee thought rather to haue obtained the same by their owne vertue, than by an other mans liberalitie and assistance. Such as these are, are least officious vnto those by whom they hold their liues and dignities, and whilest they feare to be esteemed for such as are bounden and obliged to their Benefactors, they vndergoe a more grieuous imputation, and are iustly called vngratefull.

CHAP. XXIIII.

SOme other there are that detract and scandalize their benefa­ctors, and of these there are some, whom it were better to offend currishly, than befriend curteously. For shewing themselues o­penly to be our mortall enemies, they pretend th [...]r [...]by to make men thinke that they are obliged to vs in nothing. There is no­thing that more carefully wee ought to intend, than this, that the memorie of those who haue in any sort succoured vs, bee not at any time extinguished in vs, we must from time to time renew and refresh it. He cannot giue thankes, that forgetteth what he hath receiued; and he that carrieth a good turne in memo­rie hath alreadie satisfied it: neither ought we to receiue a curtesie nicely, nei­ther submisly or humbly: for if in receiuing a man shew himselfe cold and neg­ligent, (whereas the benefit that commeth last, is the most pleasing and accep­table) what will hee doe afterward when hee sheweth himselfe so cold in the greatest heate of that which he hath receiued? Another receiueth disdainfully, as if he said, I had no neede, but since thou so farre pressest me, I will doe what thou requirest. An other receiueth so carelesly that he leaueth his benefactour in su­spence, whether hee saw or felt what was giuen him. An admonition against the vice of ingratitude. An other scarce moueth his lips, and proueth more vngratefull than if hee had held his peace, That waight should our wondes haue as the greatnesse of our benefit requireth, and boldly should we say; Thou hast obliged me more than thou thinkest. For there is no man that is not contented to heare his curtesies amplified, and made great by good reports: Thou [...]anst not imagine how great the pleasure is thou hast done me, yet hope I to make it knowne vnto thee, how much more I prise thy good turne, than thou esteemest. He that burdeneth himselfe with that which he hath recei­ued, is instantly gratefull as if he said thus. So much esteeme I the benefit which I haue receiued at your handes, that I shall neuer haue the meanes to make you satisfaction, at leastwise I will publish this in all companies, that if I requite it not before I die, it shall only bee for this cause that I want meanes to make re­quitall.

CHAP. XXV.

This Furnius was surnamed Caius, and was Consul in Rome in the yere 1226 FVRNIVS neuer wonne Augustus Caesars heart more, or knew better by any meanes to make him his owne (whereby he might com­passe all that which hee demaunded at his hands) than at that time, when (hauing obtained his fathers pardon, who had beene a partie in Antonius action) he said vnto him: Onely this one in­iurie (Great CAESAR) haue I receiued at thy hands, which is, that by thy meanes I liue, and by thy meanes I die, without gratefull acknowledgement of that thankes I owe thee. What mind may be more thankefull than his, who in no sort satisfi­eth himselfe with his owne thankefulnesse, but vtterly despaireth to equall the good he hath receiued? By these and such like speeches let vs so endeuor, that our will be not restrained or hidden, but be apparant and manifest euerie way. And although silence obscure our wordes, yet if we be so affected as we ought to be, our interior thoughts will appeare in our outward countenance. He that will be thankefull, no sooner receiueth the courtesie, but conceiueth and be­thinketh him how he may make requitall. Chrisippus saith, That he that ac­cepteth any friendship, resembleth him that is addressed and readie to runne for a wager, and standeth in the List, expecting the signall, whereupon hee might speedily set forward. And truely, he that receiueth, had need to be a swift footman and a great competitor, to the intent he may ouertake his bene­factor, who began the race before him.

CHAP. XXVI.

Three principall causes of ingra­titude, selfe-opi­nion, couetous­nesse, and enuie. LEt vs now consider and examine what most of all maketh men vn­gratefull. Truely it is either an ouer-weening of our selues, and an ingrafted error in men to admire and applaud both them­selues and their actions, or else it is couetousnesse or enuie. Let vs begin with the first. There is no man but is a partiall and fa­uourable judge of himselfe: And thence it is, that he supposeth that hee hath deserued all things, and if any thing be giuen him, he receiueth it as a debt or dutie; and moreouer, supposeth himselfe to be disgraced, and vnder-valued. He gaue me this (saith he) but how late? But with how much trauaile and en­treatie? How many more things might I haue obtained in the meane while, had I but fawned on such a man? or attended that? Or had I intended mine owne profit? I lookt not for this, I am numbred amongst the baser sort: Sup­posed he that my value and merit deserued so little? More honestly had hee dealt with me, had he presented me nothing at all.

CHAP. XXVII.

CNEVS LENTVLVS the Augur, whose wealth and riches no man could equall, before that his Franklins waxing wealthie and great, Ten thousand English crownes by our computa­tion. made him seeme poore, and in the wayning (for this man saw foure thousand Sestertiae of his owne; and fitly said I so, for he did no more than see them) was as shallow in wit, as base in [Page 35] mind and courage: For although he were as couetous as Couetousnesse it selfe, yet sooner vented he his money than his words; so weake and wanting was he in vttering what he should. This man being obliged to Augustus for all his aduancement and fortunes (to whose seruice he had brought nothing but di­stressed beggerie, vnder the title of Nobilitie) hauing obtained the gouernment in the Citie (both for the fauour he had with the Emperour, and the money held in his owne possession) was wont oftentimes to complaine himselfe vnto Caesar, That he had retyred him from his studies, and that he had not giuen him so much as he him selfe had lost by giuing vp his studie of eloquence. And yet amongst other graces, Augustus had done this for him, that he had deliue­red him from other mens scornes, and his owne fruitelesse labour. This a [...]reeth with S. Grego­ries saying and th [...]t of th [...] Port, Cre [...]cit amor nummi quan­tum ipsa p [...]cu­nia crescit.But Coue­tousnesse consenteth not that a man should be thankfull: For vnbridled hope is neuer satisfied with that which is giuen. The more wee haue, the more wee couet; and couetousnesse engaged amidst a heape and multitude of riches, is more incensed and forward. Euen as the force of a flame is a thousand times more fiercer, the more violent and greater the fire is from whence it blazeth: So ambition suffereth not a man to rest vpon the measure of that honor which heretofore be would haue beene ashamed to haue wished for. No man giueth thankes for being aduanced to a Tribuneship, The endlesse desire of man is neuer gl [...]tted nor satisfied. but complaineth, that he is not preferred to the dignitie of a Praetor: Neither doth this suffice him, but that he must needs be Consull: Neither will the Consulate content him, except he pos­sesse it more than once. Ambition still presseth forward, and vnderstandeth not her owne felicitie, because shee respecteth not whence shee came, but whi­ther she is addressed. Of all these vices which hinder our gratuitie, the most importunate and vehement is Enuie, which tormenteth and vexeth vs with comparisons of this nature: He bestowed thus much on me, but more vpon him, and more speedily also. Finally, the enuious man negotiateth no mans businesse, but fauoureth himselfe against all men.

CHAP. XXVIII.

HOw much more wisely and vertuously were it done, Remedies a­gainst the errors of those that re­ceiue vnthank­fully. to engreaten and dignifie a good turne receiued, and to consider and know, that no man is euer so well esteemed by another, as he esteemeth and prizeth himselfe. I should haue receiued farre more; but it was not for his [...]ase to giue mee more: his liberalitie was to ex­tend to more than my selfe. This is but a beginning: Let vs take it in good part, and vrge on his to further fauors, by shewing our selues thankefull for the good we haue receiued: He hath done but a little, but he will doe it often: He hath preferred that man before me, and me also hath he preferred before ma­ny others. This man cannot equall me either in vertue or honestie, yet in his carriage and actions he hath something more pleasing than is in me. By com­plaining my selfe I shall neuer be held worthie of a greater good, but shall ra­ther shew, that I am vnworthie of that which I haue alreadie receiued. There was more courtesie done to those lewd fellowes: What is this to the purpose? How seldome is Fortune bountifull with judgement? We daily complaine, that men that are least vertuous are most fortunate. Oft times the hayle and tempest that ouer-passed the lands of a wicked and vngodly man, hath beat downe the corne of the best and vprightest men. Each man (as in all other [Page 36] thinges, so in friendship) hath his chance and fortune. There is no benefit so fully good, that malignitie and enuie cannot impugne and detract; there is no curtesie so scanted and barren, but a good interpreter may enlarge and ampli­fie. Thou shalt neuer want a subiect or cause to complaine of, if thou behold benefits on the weaker and worser side.

CHAP. XXIX.

SEe, I pray you, how some men (yea, euen those who make a pro­fession of wisedome) haue vniustly censured, and vnindifferently esteemed the goods, and those graces which they haue bestowed vpon vs. They complaine because wee equall not Elephants in bulke of bodie, These will be the better vnder­stood i [...] wee note th [...]t which Ga­len saith, in the beginning of his Treatise de vsu partium, where he sa [...]th, That those creatures whom nature endowed with fore [...]s to defend the [...]s [...]lu [...]s from the [...] Enemies, are not e [...]dowed w [...]th swiftnesse to s [...]e, as it ap­pe [...]reth in the Elephant. And contrariwise to those shee hath denied force [...] to def [...]nd them­selues, them hath shee preui­ded of swiftnesse to she from their contrarie, as for example the Hart and Hare. Harts in swiftnesse, Birds in lightnesse, Bulls in force. They complaine that beasts haue substantialler hides than we, that fal­low Deere haue a fairer haire, the Beare a thicker skinne, the Beuer a softer. They complaine that Dogges ouer-come vs in smelling, that Eagles in seeing, that Crowes in out-liuing, and many other beasts in facilitie of swimming. And whereas nature permitteth not, that some properties should bee vnited in one and the same creature (as that swiftnesse of bodie should be matched with mightinesse in strength) they suppose themselues iniured, because man was not composed of these diuers and dissident goods; and blame the Gods for negle­cting vs, because they haue not giuen vs perpetuall health, inuincible vertue, and exemption from vices, and certaine fore-knowledge of thinges to come: yea and so farre are they plunged in impudencie, that they scarcely temper themselues from hating nature for making vs inferiour to the Gods, and not e­quall with them in their Diuinitie. How much more better were it for vs to returne and reflect vpon the contemplation of so many and so mightie benefits which we haue receiued at their handes, and to yeeld them thankes, for that it hath pleased them to alot vs a second place in this most beautifull house, and to make vs Lords of all earthly thinges? Is there any comparison betwixt vs and those beasts, whereof wee haue the soueraigntie? All whatsoeuer nature de­nieth vs, shee cannot conueniently bestow vpon vs. And therefore whosoeuer thou art that doest so vnder-value mans fortune and chance, bethinke thee how great blessings our soueraigne parent hath giuen vs. How many beasts more forcible than our selues haue wee yoked, and brought vnder our subiection? how farre more swifter creatures haue wee ouer-taken, and how no mortall thing is secured and exempted from our strokes and power. So many vertues haue we receiued, so many arts, and in conclusion, such a minde and spirit, that in that very It is not in­tended that the same thing which the soule desireth sh [...]uld presently come to hand, but that by the meanes, and se [...]bl [...]e, which is s [...]d [...]nly [...]or­med in the soule, it may e [...]o [...] and vse the same in some manner. instant wherein it intendeth a thing, in a moment it attaineth the same, and more swifter than the starres fore-seeth long before the course and motion they are to obs [...]rue and hold in time to come. Finally, such a plentie of fruit, such store of wealth, and such abundance of thinges heaped one vpon an other. Although thou take a view of all thinges, and because thou findest no one thing intire which thou hadest rather bee, pick out such seuerall thinges as thou wouldest wish to be giuen thee out of them all. So when thou hast well waighed the louing kindnesse of nature, thou shalt bee forced to confesse, that thou wert her darling: And so is it indeede. The immortall Gods haue and doe loue vs intirely, and (which is the greatest honour that could bee giuen) [Page 37] they haue placed vs next vnto themselues. Great things haue we receiued, nei­ther were we capable of greater.

CHAP. XXX.

THese things (my Liberalis) haue I thought necessarie to be spoken, He answereth to a sec [...]et obiection both because it concerned me to say somewhat of great benefits when we were discoursing on small; and also because the bold­nesse of this horrible vice floweth from thence into all other things. For vnto whom will he be thankfull for good turnes; or what benefit will he esteeme great and worthie the requiting, who despiseth the highest benefits? To whome will hee confesse himselfe indebted for his health and life, that denieth that he hath receiued his being from the Gods, to whom he prayeth daily for the same? Whosoeuer therefore giueth instructi­ons of thankfulnesse vnto men, negotiateth the affaires of men and Gods; to whom, being vnpurueyed of nothing, and freed from the desire of affecting or coueting any thing, yet to them may men notwithstanding be both acknow­ledging and thankfull. There is no cause why any man should lay the blame of his thankelesse mind vpon his owne weakenesse or pouertie, and say, What shall I doe? How or when may I find any possibilitie to remunerate and ac­knowledge the benefits of my superiors, the Lords of all things? To requite is an [...]asie matter: for if thou beest a niggard, thou mayest requite without ex­pence; and if thou beest slouthfull, without labour. In that very moment wherein thou art obliged, if thou listest, thou mayest make euen with any man whatsoeuer, because that he who willingly hath receiued a benefit, hath restored the same.

CHAP. XXXI.

IN my opinion, that doctrine (which the Stoickes place amongst their ext [...]aordinarie Paradoxes) is not so wonderfull and incre­dible, Hee disputeth whether an in­terior thanks-gi­uing is sufficient to satisfie a be­ne [...]t receiued. That he who willingly hath receiued a benefit, hath re­stored the same. For in as much as we measure all things by the mind, looke how much a man is minded to doe, so much hath he done. And for as much as pietie, faithfulnesse, and vprightnesse, and finally all vertue, is perfect in it selfe, although a man could not remunerate an act, yet may he be thankfull euen with his will and heart. As oft as any one compas­seth and obtaineth his purpose, so often he reapeth the fruit of his labor. What purposeth he that bestoweth a benefit? To profi [...] him to whom he giueth the same, and to content and delight himselfe: If he hath finished that which he intended, and the good turne he intended me be come to my hands, and both of vs are mutually affected with joy and contentment, he hath obtained that which he sought: For his intent was not to haue any thing in recompence, for then had it beene no benefit, but a bargaine. Well hath he sayled that hath at­tained the Hauen whereunto he shaped his course. The dart that hitteth the marke it was aymed at, hath performed the office of a steadie hand: He that doth a good turne, meaneth to haue it accepted thankfully [...] if it be well taken, he hath his desire. But he hoped for some profit thereby: This was no benefit [...] [Page] [...] [Page] [Page 38] whose propertie is to thinke no wayes of remuneration. That which I recei­ued, if I accepted and entertained the same with the like good affection as it was giuen me, I haue requited it: otherwise the thing that of it selfe is best, were in worst case. To the end I should be thankefull, I am sent to Fortune: if I cannot satisfie for want of her succour, my good minde shall satisfie a good minde. What then? Shall I not endeuor my selfe to the vttermost to make recompence? Shall I not seeke opportunitie of time and matter, and labour to fill the bosome of him, at whose hands I haue receiued any thing? Yes. But yet the world went ill with good doing, if a man might not be thankfull, euen with emptie hands.

CHAP. XXXII.

That is Chrisip­pus. HE that receiueth a good turne (sayth he) although he hath taken it with neuer so thankfull a mind, yet hath hee not consummated and performed his dutie: An obiection & similitude a­gainst the prece­dent Paradox of the Stoicks. for there is a part which remaineth, which is of restitution. As at a Tennis-play it is somewhat to receiue the ball cunningly and diligently; but he is not tearmed a good gamest [...]r, except he be such a one as returneth and striketh backe the same as fitly and readily, as it was serued to him. This example is farre diffe­rent and impertinent: And why? because the praise hereof is in the motion and agilitie of the bodie, not in the mind. And therefore it is requisite, that the whole should be layd forth at large, where the eye must be judge. Yet will I not for all that denie him to be a good gamester that receiueth the ball as he ought to doe; though he strike it not againe, so the fault bee not in himselfe. But although (sayth he) there be nothing deficient in the art of him that play­eth, because he hath performed a part, and can likewise performe that part which he hath not done, yet is the game it selfe imperfect, which is consumma­ted in taking and returning the ball backe againe by turnes. Here he re­sol [...]eth this q [...]e­stion by Ch [...]i [...] sippus one ex­ample.I will no longer refell this; let vs suppose it to be so; let somewhat be deficient in the game, and not in the gamester: So in this also, whereof wee dispute, there wanteth somewhat in respect of the thing that was giuen, to which some condigne sa­tisfaction is due, although in respect of the mind there be nothing deficient. The bounti­full minde that is seconded by a thanke [...]ull and grate [...]ull minde, hath for his own part all that which is to be desired by him. He that hath gotten a mind answerable to his owne, hath performed as much as in him lyeth that which he would.

CHAP. XXXIII.

HE hath giuen me a benefit, and I haue accepted it no otherwise than he himselfe would haue it receiued: Now hath he the thing that he sought, and the onely thing that he sought, I am gratefull. After this there remaineth the vse of me, and some profit from a gratefull man. This is not the remnant of an imperfect dutie, but an in-come and accession to a perfect one. Phidias maketh an Image: the fruit of his art and knowledge is one thing, the commoditie of his workemanship and labour another: The propertie of his art is to haue made the Statue, but of the workemanship to haue made it with profit. Phidias hath perfited his worke, although he hath not sold it: A three-fold profit reapeth he by his [Page 39] worke; the one in his conscience and conceit, and this he receiueth as soone as his worke is finished; the other of his fame; the third of his profit, which shall accrue vnto him either by fauour, or by sale, or by some other meanes. So the first fruit of a benefit is the conscience and contentment a man conceiueth [...] that he hath well finished the same; the second is of reputation; the third of those things which may be made reciprocall one vnto another. Gratefull acce­ptance is a kinde of satisfaction. When as therefore a benefit is thankefully accepted, hee that bestowed it, hath alreadie receiued recompence, but not satisfaction as yet: I therefore owe that which is with­out the benefit, and in receiuing it kindly and thankfully, I haue satisfied the same.

CHAP. XXXIIII.

WHat then? ( [...]aith he) hath he requited a fauor that hath done no­thing? Confirmations of the precedent Paradox. He hath done much, he hath repaied good will with as great good will, and (which is a certaine signe of friendship) he hath done it with an equall affection. Moreouer, a debt is satis­fied one way, and a benefit another. Thou art not to expect that I will shew thee my payment. This affaire is managed from will to will. That which I say vnto thee shall not seeme harsh and distastfull to thee, although at first it fight against thine opinion, if thou conforme thy selfe vnto me, and ima­gine that there are more things than wordes. There are a great number of things without name, which we note not by their proper titles, but such as are both forraine and borrowed: We call the foot whereon we walke, a foot; the foot of a Bed, the foot of a Hanging, and the foot of a Verse: We call by the name of Dog, both a Hound, a Fish, and a Star: For we haue not words enow to giue a proper name vnto euery thing; and therefore when wee haue neede we borrow. Fortitude is a vertue that contemneth just dangers: or it is a Sci­ence to repell perils, or to know how to sustaine them, or how to prouoke them: yet say wee, that a Fencer is a stout man, and a wicked slaue, whome rashnesse hath animated and enforced to contempt of death. Parsimonie is a Science to auoid extraordinarie expence, or an art to vse a mans estate and substance mo­derately [...] and yet we call him a very sparing man, which is of a niggardly and pinching mind, whereas notwithstanding there is infinite oddes betweene mo­deration and niggardize. These are of diuers natures, and yet for want of words we are enforced to call both the one and the other a Sparer; A benefite not only signi [...]yeth a bounteous acti­on, but the thing whatsoeuer that is bountifully bestowed. and him likewise strong who despiseth casualties with reason, as that other also, who runnes headlong vpon dangers without judgement. So a benefit, as wee haue said, is a bounteous action, and that very thing which is giuen by that action, as money, a house, a garment; the name of them both is all one, but the vertue and power of them farre different.

CHAP. XXXV.

GIue care therefore, and thou shalt presently perceiue, that I say no­thing that is contrarie to thy opinion. That benefit or good turne which is finished in the doing of it, is requited, if we take it thankfully. But for that other which is contained in the thing, we haue not yet requited it, but we intend to requite it: we haue [Page 40] satisfied good will with good will, and we owe still a thing for a thing. There­fore, although we say, that he hath giuen thankes that hath willingly receiued a benefit, yet will wee him that hath receiued to restore some such like thing as he hath receiued. Some of the things we speake doe differ from common cu­stome, and afterwards another way they grow in vse and custome againe. Wee denie, that a wise man receiueth any wrong, and yet the man that striketh him with his fist, shall be condemned of injurie and wrong doing. We denie, that a foole hath any goods of his owne, and yet if a man steale any thing from a foole, we will condemne him of felonie. A Stoicall opinion. We say that all fooles be mad, and yet we cure them not all by Eleborus. Euen vnto those very men whome wee tearme mad we commit both Suffrages and Iurisdiction. So likewise say wee that he hath requited a good turne that hath receiued it with a good minde; but yet neuerthelesse wee leaue him still in debt, to make recompence euen when he hath requited. Our so saying is an exhortation, and not a remitting of the good turne. Let vs not feare, neither (being depressed with an intolera­ble burthen) let vs faint in mind. Goods are giuen me; my good name is defen­ded, my miserie is taken from me, I enjoy life and libertie, deerer than life: And how shall I requite these things? When will the day come that I may shew him my good will againe? This is the day wherein he hath shewed his. Take vp the good turne, embrace it and be glad, make account that thou owest not that which thou hast receiued, but that which thou mayest requite. Thou shalt not aduenture on so great a thing, as that mischance may make thee vnthankfull. I will propose no difficultie vnto thee: be of good courage, shrinke not for feare of paines and long seruitude: I delay thee not, it may be done with things that thou hast alreadie. Thou shalt neuer be thankefull except thou be instantly: What wilt thou therefore doe? Must thou take armes? Perchance thou must: Must thou sayle ouer seas? Likely yes: and euen then also when the stormes threaten thee with shipwracke. But wilt thou restore a benefit? Take it thankefully, and thou hast requited it; not so as thou shouldst thinke that thou hast payed the same, but so as thou mayest owe it with the more hearts- [...]ase.

The end of the second Booke.

LVCIVS ANNAEVS SENECA Of Benefits. THE THIRD BOOKE.

The Argument of IVSTVS LIPSIVS.

HE discourseth of vngratefull men, what they be, and whether they are to be punished, or called before the Iudge. He denieth it by a curious disputation, and addeth, that their punishment is in hatred, infamie and in the minde it selfe. Afterwards vpon occasion hee debateth whether a Lord should be gratefull to his slaue? Or receiue a benefit at his handes? He affirmeth; and this very plentifully, because in those daies there was often vse of seruants. Hereunto he annexeth; whether the Sonne giueth his Father a benefit? He disputeth on both sides, but affirmeth the affirmatiue.

CHAP. I.

NOT to render thankes for benefits receiued (my AEbutius Liberalis) is both lothsome in it selfe, and hatefull in all mens opinion. That which is complained of by all men, is exer­cised by most me [...]. And therefore such as are themselues vngratefull, complaine of vngratefull men: and so are we fashioned and ad­dressed to the contrarie of that we ought to doe, that there are some who become our Capitall e­nemies, not only after benefits receiued, but for the very fauours they receiue. I cannot denie but that this hapneth vnto some by reason of the corruption of their nature: to many, because that the interposition of time extinguisheth the remembrance. For those thinges that were fresh in memorie with them, while they were newly done, doe in processe of time weare out of remembrance. Concerning which so [...]t of men, I know that thou and I haue o­therwhiles disputed, He termeth all sinne equall, ac­cording to the doctrine of the Stoickes, but all the Fathers and Christian religion teacheth other­wise. whereas thou maintainedst that it were better to call them forgetfull than vngratefull. Shall he therefore be excused of ingratitude because he hath forgotten, when as no man can forget, except he be vngrate­full? There are many sorts of vngratefull men, as there are of Theefes and Mur­therers, whose fault is one, but in the parts there is great varietie. Ingratefull is he who denieth that hee hath receiued a good turne, which hath beene done [Page 42] him: Ingratefull is he that dissembleth: Ingratefull is he that maketh not resti­tution: and the most vngratefull of all is he, that forgetteth a fauour hath beene shewen him. For they, although they requite not, yet are they indebted, and som [...] certaine impression of the good turne (hoarded vp in their corrupt con­sciences) is extant with them. And vpon some cause they may at length di­spose themselues to gratuitie, if either shame shall put them in minde, or some sodaine desire to proceede honourably: such as for a time is wont to awaken it selfe in men of the worst disposition, if any easie occasion should inuite them. But neuer can hee become thankefull who hath forgotten the whole benefit. And whether thinkest thou him worser, in whom the thankes of a good turne is lost, or him in whom the very remembrance perisheth? Faultie are those eies that feare the light, but blind are they that see not at all. Not to reuerence and loue ones Parents is impietie, and not to acknowledge them is madnesse. Who is more vngratefull than hee, who hauing receiued such a curtesie as hee ought to treasure vp in the formost part of his memorie, and continually medi­tate thereon, hath laid it so farre a-side, and neglected it, that he groweth whol­ly ignorant thereof? It appeareth that he neuer bethought him of restitution, that suffered obliuion so farre to vsurpe vpon him.

CHAP. II.

IN a word, to the requiting of a good turne there needeth vertue, time, abilitie, and fauourable fortune. Hee that remembreth a friend is thankefull without expence: Hee that performeth not this (which to atchieue neither requireth labour, nor charge, nor felicitie) hath no couert or patronage to conceale himselfe in. For neuer meant he to be thankefull, who cast a benefit so farre from him, that it neither suruiued in his sight, An apt compari­son. nor his remembrance. Euen as those things which are in vse, and are managed and handled daily, are neuer in danger of soile or rusting; and those which are out of sight, and vse (so as they haue lien by, as vnnecessarie) doe gather soile by continuance of time: So that which fre­quent cogitation exerciseth and reneweth, is neuer wrought out of memorie, which looseth and forgetteth nothing, but that, which shee respecteth and loo­keth not back vnto verie often.

CHAP. III.

BEsides this cause there are other also, which sometimes conceale the greatest merits from vs. Besides forget­fulnesse, hee set­teth downe other causes of ingra­titude. The first and chiefest cause of all o­thers, is this; that being alwaies continually busied with new desires, we haue an eie and regard, not to that we haue, but what we require, intentiue, not on that which is in our present posses­sion, but on that wee affect and fancie most. For whatsoeuer is at our command, is base and contemptible. Whence it followeth, that as soone as the desire of new thinges hath made that light which wee haue receiued, the Author also thereof is slenderly respected. So long as those thinges which a great Lord hath giuen vs, haue beene pleasing and well-liking vnto vs, we haue loued and courted him, and confessed openly that our state was founded and raised by [Page 43] him; but if any new ambition assault vs; if our minde fall into admiration of o­ther thinges, and earnestly aff [...]ct the same, (as the manner of mortall men is, after great things to desire greater) we straight waies forget that which in times past we called a benefit [...] we neithe [...] respect or looke into those thinges, which haue aduanced vs before others [...] but those things only wherein other men haue had the fortune to out-strip vs. But it is impossible for any man, both to repine and enuie, and to be thankefull: for to enuie, is the propertie of a complaining and discontented man, but to giue thankes is the propertie of him that is well pleased. The second cause of ingratitude is, because none of vs make any ac­compt, but of that present time which speedily passeth and fleeteth before our eies; and few or none are they that cast back their minds to thinke on things past. By meanes hereof it falls out, that Schoole-masters, and their good deedes, are buried in obliuion, because we wholly loose the remembrance of our infancie. Hereby it commeth to passe, that wee forget all those thinges which are be­stowed vpon vs in our youth because we neuer thinke vpon the same. No man accompteth that which he hath beene, as it were a thing past, but as a thing lost. Thus the desire and apprehension of thinges to come, defaceth the me­morie of thinges past.

CHAP. IIII.

IN this place must I giue testimonie of the Epicures vpright iudge­ment, The remem­brance of kind­n [...]sse receiued, ought to be num­bred amongst th [...] greatest plea­sures. who continually complaineth, for that we are ingratefull in regard of things past, for that we recall not to memo [...]ie what­soeuer benefits we haue receiued, neither number them amongst pleasures, when as there is none more certaine contentment, than that which cannot any more be taken from vs. The goods and pleasures that are present are not as yet wholly assured; some casualtie may intercept and cut them off. Those thinges that are to come, are vncertaine and doubtfull: That which is past is laid a-side amongst those thinges that are in safetie. How then can any man acknowledge the good that is done him, who hath forgot­ten the whole course of his life? The apprehension and consideration of things present, and the memorie of thinges past, maketh a man gratefull; He that at­tributeth most to Hope, yeeldeth least to Memorie.

CHAP. V.

EVen as (my Liberalis) there are certaine thinges which being once apprehended, continue still in memorie; and some thinges that to know them, it is not sufficient to haue learned them, (for the science of them is forgotten, except it bee continued) I meane Geometrie, and the course of Coelestiall thinges, and of such which by their subtiltie doe easily flip out of our memories: So the greatnesse of some benefits suffer them not to bee forgotten. Some lesser and more in number, and diuers in time, are easily buried in obliuion; Beca [...]se, as I said, we handle them not often, neither willingly acknowledge what we owe vnto e [...]e­rie man. Hearken what speeches sutors and suppliants vse. There is not any of them, but saith, that h [...]e will for euer keepe in minde the fauour done him; [Page 44] euery man protesteth and voweth himselfe to be at commandement, and if any more submissiue speech, whereby he may engage himselfe, may be found out, he spareth it not. But within a little while after, those Gallants esteeme their former wordes as too base and illiberall: and finally, they grow to that point (which as I suppose euery one the lewdest, and most vngratefullest attaineth vnto) that is, to forget the same. For euen as vngratefull is hee that forgetteth, as he is gratefull that remembreth him of a benefit.

CHAP. VI.

YEt the question is whether this so hatefull vice should bee left vnpunished? and whether this law which is exercised in declama­torie Schooles, should be ratified also in the Citie, whereby a man may call an ingratefull man in question? Sure it seemeth a matter worthie the censure of justice, in all mens iudgements. Why not? since certaine Cities also, haue reproched other Cities for the loanes and fauours they haue done them, and redemand from posteritie that which they haue lent to their predecessours. Our Ancestors, those migh­tie and vertuous men, required satisfaction only from their enemies; as for their benefits, He concludeth th [...] negatiue p [...]rt. He approueth that wh [...]ch he concluded. they gaue them with a great minde, and lost them with as great. There is not any Nation in the world, except the Medes, that haue thought fit to im­pleade an ingratefull man, or call him in question. And this is a great reason why none should be granted, because by mutuall consent we punish misdeeds; and for Murther, Witchcraft, Paricide, and breach of Religion, haue here and there enacted diuers punishments, and in all places some: but this most fre­quent crime is no where punished, and euery where improued. Neither absolue we the same: but whereas the iudgement of a thing vncertaine is difficult, wee haue only condemned it with hatred, and left it amongst those thinges which we referre to the iustice and iudgement of the Gods.

CHAP. VII.

Reasons to ap­proue that in­gratitude is not punishable by Law. BVt many reasons offer themselues vnto mee, whereby it appea­reth that this errour and crime is not punishable by Law. First of all, the better part of the benefit should perish, if a man should haue an action allowed him, as hee hath for lending mo­ney, or for bargaines of hyring, and letting out. For this is the greatest grace of a benefit, that we haue giuen it, although we should loose it, that we haue referred all to the curtesie of the receiuers. If I arrest him, and call him before the Iudge, it beginneth to bee a debt, and not a benefit. Againe, whereas it is a most commendable thing to requite, it ceaseth to be honest, if it be of necessitie. For no man will commend a thankefull person, more than him that hath restored a thing which was committed him to keepe, or discharged his debt without being sued. Thus corrupt and deface wee two thinges (than which in humane life there is nothing more worthie) that is to say, a gratefull man, and a bountifull giuer. For what honour, I pray you, shall hee haue in this, if hee giueth not a benefit, but lendeth it? or in that, if hee requite, not be­cause hee will, but because hee must of necessitie? It is no glorious thing to bee [Page 45] gratefull, except it be a matter vnpunishable to be vngratefull: moreouer, this inconuenience would ensue, that all Courts would scarcely serue, and suffice this one law only: who is he that might not sue? who is he that might not bee sued? all men prise and praise their owne doings, all men enlarge those thinges they haue employed vpon others, be they neuer so little. Besides, whatsoeuer thinges fall into knowledge of the Iudges, may bee comprehended by the [...] without giuing them infinite licence and libertie. And therefore the condition of a good cause seemeth to be better if it be restored to a Iudge, than if it bee remitted to compromise, because the Iudge is bound vnto an order, and hath his certaine bounds limited him, which he may not exceede; But the Vmpieres conscience being free and tied to no termes, may both adde, and take away, and order the sentence, not as law and iustice counsaileth, but according as hu­manitie and pittie shall moue. An action of ingratitude would not oblige the Iudge, but set him at libertie to rule thinges as he listed. For it is not certaine what a benefit is; againe, how great soeuer it bee, it were much to the matter how fauourably the Iudge would construe it. No law defineth what an vn­thankefull person is. Oft-times he that hath restored as much as he hath recei­ued, is vnthankefull, and hee that hath not requited, is thankefull. There bee some matters also which some vnskilfull Iudge may dismisse the Court of, as in cases where the parties confesse a deede, The Romaine Pra [...]or was wont to commit, some affaires of impor­tance to bee de­termined to a certaine number of chosen men, selected out of the order of Knights. or no deede, where the opening of the euidence dispatcheth all doubts. But when as Reason must giue iudgment betweene two persons which debate, there ought our vnderstanding to vse coniecture and diuination: and when as a thing which only wisedome ought to determine, falleth in controuersie, a man cannot (in that case) take a Iudge of the number of those whom the Praetor chooseth, and such a one as is inrolled in the Register of the Iudges; because he hath the rents and riches which a Ro­maine Knight ought to haue.

CHAP. VIII.

THis thing therefore seemed not to bee very vnmeete to bee made a matter in law, but that no man could be found to be a compe­tent Iudge in the case; which thou wilt not wonder at, if thou consider throughly what puzzell and difficultie hee should finde who should enter into the ouer-ruling of such cases. Some one hath giuen a great summe of mon [...]y [...] but such a one as is rich; but such a one as shall not feele the want thereof. An other hath giuen, but with the hazard of forgoing his whole inheritance. The summes are a-like, but the benefit is not the same: Yea, let vs adde yet further; This man laid downe money for him that was adjudged a slaue vnto his creditour; but where hee had it at home lying by him. That other gaue as much; but [...]ee tooke it vp vpon interest; or borrowed it with much intreatie; or deepely indangered himselfe to [...]inith [...] lent it. Thinkest thou that there was no difference betwixt him that bestowed his benefit at his case, and that other that borrowed to giue the same? Some thinges are made great in time, and not the greatest. It is a benefit to giue [...] possession whose fertilitie may ease the dearth of corne; one loafe of bread in time of scarcitie is a benefit. It is a benefit to giue whole Regions, through which many Riuers may runne able to beare ships. It is a benefit to those that are dried vp with thirst, and scarce able to draw them breath through th [...]ir [Page 46] dried jawes to shew them a fountaine: who shall distinguish these one from an other? who shall waigh them throughly? hard is the determination of that case, which requireth the force of a thing, and not the thing it selfe. Although they be the same, yet being differently giuen, they waigh not alike. This man did me a good turne, but he did it vnwillingly; but hee complained that he gaue it, but he beheld me more proudly than he was accustomed, but he gaue it so late, that it had beene better for me if he had quickly denied me. How can a Iudge make an estimate of these thinges? whereas the speech, the doubt, and the countenance of a man may destroy the grace of his merit?

CHAP. IX.

WHat shall wee say of some thinges, which because they are much desired, are held for benefits? and of others, which are not estee­med by the common sort, for such, although they are greater then they seeme. Thou callest it a benefit to haue giuen a man the freedome of a most rich and wealthy Citie, to haue made a man a Knight, and to haue placed him on the These de­grees or places of Knight-hood a­mongst the Ro­maines were not obtained by an­tiquitie, but dili­gence and fauor: so may you ga­ther from our Auth [...]r here, and from Iustus Lipsius, lib. de Amphitheatro cap. 14. fourteenth scaffold, destinated for the Romaine Knights, to behold the plaies and publique spectacles? and to haue defended him vpon an indictment of life and death: but what thinke you of it to haue giuen a man good counsaile? to haue hindered him from executing a wicked enterprise? to haue wrung the sword out of his hand, where-with hee would haue slaine himselfe? to haue comforted him in his sorrow by holesome counsailes? and to haue brought him back to the fellowship of life, from his willfull seeking and longing to accompanie his deceased friends in death: what thinke you it to be, to sit by a sick-mans bed, and since his euill came by fits and at certaine houres, to haue waighted a fit time to giue him meate? and to haue bathed his veines with wine when he fainted? to haue brought him a Phisitian euen then when hee exspected to die? who is hee that can iustly value these thinges? what Iudge shall he be that shall command these benefits to be recom­penced with the like? Some man perchance hath giuen thee a house, but I haue foretold thee that thine owne is falling downe on thy head. Hee hath giuen thee a patrimonie: but I a planck to floate vpon, and saue thy life in shipwrack. He hath fought and hath beene wounded for thy cause: but I haue giuen thee thy life by my silence on the rack. Whereas a benefit is giuen one way, and re­compenced an other: it is a hard matter to make them equall.

CHAP. X.

FVrthermore, there is no day limited for recompencing a good turne, as there is for money lent: he therefore that hath not as yet requited, may requite. For tell me in what time may a man dis­couer an other to bee vngratefull? The greatest benefits haue no probation at all, they for the most part are hidden in the consci­ences of two. Shall wee bring the world to that passe that wee may not doe a good turne without testimonie? What punishment then shall we destinate for the vnthankefull? shall we prefixe one for all, where the benefits are different? or vnequall punishments, either greater or lesser, according to each mans be­nefite? [Page] Goe to then; let the penaltie bee pecuniarie: why? Some benefits con­cerne life and are more greater, than life; what penaltie will you pronounce a­gainst them? lesse than the benefit? that were not indifferent: equall, and so ca­pitall? what more inhumane, than that the issue of benefits should bee bloudie?

CHAP. XI.

CErtaine priuiledges (saith he) are giuen vnto Parents. And as there is an extraordinarie consideration had of these, so is it reasonable also that a respect should be had of other benefits. We haue hal­lowed and sacred the condition of Parents, because it was expe­dient that children should be bred and brought vp. They were to be encouraged to this trauell, because they were to vnder goe an vncertaine fortune. It could not be said vnto them, which is spoken vnto those that giue benefits. Be warie in thy choice to whom thou giuest: If thou hast beene once deceiued, seeke out hence-forward such a one as is worthie of thy benefits, and succour him. In breeding and bringing vp children, the Parents iudgement preuaileth little, all that they may doe is but to wish well, and hope the best. Therefore that they might the more willingly aduenture this chance, it was reason that some prerogatiue should be giuen them. Againe, the case standeth otherwise with Parents, for they both doe and will bestow benefits vpon their children, al­though they haue done neuer so much for them alreadie: and it is not to bee feared that they will belie themselues in giuing: In others it ought to bee exa­mined, not only whether they haue receiued, but also whether they haue gi­uen. But the merits of these consist in their confession; and because it is requi­site for youth to be ruled, we haue constituted, as it were, certaine domesticall Magistrates ouer them, vnder whose gouernement they should bee restrained. Againe, the benefits of all Parents was equall and alike, and therefore it might be valued after one rate, but the rest were diuers, vnlike, and infinite oddes was betweene them, and therefore could they fall vnder no compasse of Law; so that it was more fitting to let them all alone, than to make them all equall.

CHAP. XII.

SOme thinges cost the giuers much; As the qualities of benefits are diuers: so also are they diuersly esteemed by those that re­ceiue them. and some are much worth to the receiuers, and yet stand the giuers in nothing. Certaine curte­sies are done to friends, some to strangers, and (although the gift be one) yet is it better imploied on him that then thou beganst to know, when thou vndertookest to succour him. This man giueth succours; that ornament; these other consolations. Thou shalt finde some that imagine nothing more pleasing in this world, or more great and agreeable, than to haue a friend that may succour, and to whom hee may discouer his miseries and calamities. Againe, you shall finde some man more jelous of his Honour, than his Securitie, and other some that suppose themselues more indebted to him, by whose meanes they may liue in repose, than to him by whose meanes they might liue in some honor and estimation. These things therefore would fall out greater or lesser, according as the Iudges minde were bent to the one or [Page 48] to the other. Besides I choose my selfe a creditor: I often-times receiue a be­nefit at his handes, from whom I would not; and sometimes I am obliged ere I know thereof. What wilt thou doe? wilt thou call him vngratefull that had a good turne cast vpon him before hee knew it, and if hee had knowne thereof would not haue receiued it? and wilt thou not terme him vnthankefull which howsoeuer he receiued thy good turne, in no sort requited it?

CHAP. XIII.

SOme man hath done mee a friendship, and afterwards the same man hath offered me an injurie. Whether am I tied by one curte­sie to suffer all injuries? or shall I be acquit, as if I had acknowled­ged the same, because hee hath defaced his former benefit by his succeeding injurie? how then canst thou determine whether the pleasure he hath receiued be greater, or the outrage that is afterwards offered him? The day would faile me if I should attempt to prosecute euery difficultie. Wee (saith hee) make men slower to doe good, If vngratefull receiuers should be punished, few would entertaine benefits. when wee challenge not the things that are giuen, but suffer the deniers to escape vnpunished. But you must bethinke your selfe of this also on the contrarie part, that men will bee much loather to receiue benefits, if they should stand in perill of processe thereby, and if their innocence be no waies assured. Moreouer, by this meanes we our selues shall become loather to doe men good, for no man willingly giueth vnto those, who are vnwilling to receiue. But whosoeuer is prouoked to pleasure others of his owne good nature, and for the worthinesse of the thing it selfe, will giue willingly also euen vnto such as shall thinke themselues no more beholding to him than they list: For the glorie of that office is diminished, which carrieth a promise with it.

CHAP. XIIII.

SO shall there be fewer benefits; yea but they shall be truer. And what harme is it to haue the rashnesse of benefiting restrained? For this euen intended they that constituted no law for the same: that we should more circumspectly giue, and carefully choose those on whom wee bestowed our fauours. Consider diligently to whom thou giuest, so shall there be no suing, so shall there be no calling backe or repe­tition. Thou art deceiued if thou thinke that any Iudge can helpe thee. There is no Law that is able to set thee cleare againe. Only haue thou an eie to the thankefulnesse of the receiuer. By these meanes benefits hold their authoritie, and are magnificent: thou defilest them if thou make them a matter of law: In debt it is a most iustifiable speech, and answerable to the law of all Na [...]ns, to say, Pay that which thou owest. But this is the foulest word in benefiting [...]at can be, to say, Pay: For what shall he pay? He oweth his Life, his Greatnesse, his Honours, the assurance of his Fortune, his Health. The greatest things cannot be requited. At leastwise (saith he) let him repay somewhat of like value. This is it that I said, that the estimation of so noble a thing should perish, if we make a merchandize of benefits. The minde is not to be incited to Auarice, to Pro­cesse, [Page 49] or Debate: he runneth into these things of his owne accord. Let vs with­stand them as much as we can, and cut off the occasions of complaining.

CHAP. XV.

I Would to God we could perswade them not to receiue againe the mony they had lent, saue only of such as were willing to re­pay. Would to God the buyers were neuer obliged to the sel­lers by any promise [...] nor bargaines and couenants were ratified vnder hand and seale; but that faith should rather keepe them, and a minde obseruing equitie. He repre [...]endeth the little faith and double dea­ling of men. But men haue preffered profit before honestie, and had rather inforce others to be faithfull, than behold them faithfull. Wit­nesses are emploied, both on the one and the other side. This man lendeth his money vpon interest to many, whom he causeth to be bound by publique in­struments. That other is not contented with sureties, except he haue a pawne in hand. O loathsome confession of humane fraud, and publique wickednesse. Our seales are more set by than our soules. To what purpose are these Wor­shipfull men called to record? why set they to their handes? namely, least hee should denie that which he had receiued. Thinkest thou these men to bee vp­right, and that they would maintaine a truth? yea, but if they themselues would instantly borrow money of any man, they cannot get it, except they be obliged after the same manner. Had it not beene more honestie to let some passe with the breach of their credit, than that all men should be mistrusted of vnthanke­fulnesse, and perfidiousnesse. Auarice wanteth but one only thing, which is, That we should doe no man good without suretiship. It is the propertie of a generous and magnificent minde to helpe and pro [...]it others; he that giueth be­nefits, imitateth the Gods; he that redemandeth them, is as the Vsurers. Why then abase wee our selues to those vilest sort of [...]ake-hells, by resembling them?

CHAP. XVI.

BVt if no action be liable against an vngratefull person, the number of the vngratefull will bee the more? nay rather they will bee the lesse; for men will bee more aduised in bestowing their benefits. Againe, it is not expedient to haue it knowne to the world, what a number of vnthankefull persons there be: For the multitude of offenders will take away the shame of the deed, and a common crime will cease to be accompted a reproch: The multitude of offendors cloudeth and maketh the crime lesse o­dious. Is there almost any woman in these daies that is ashamed of diuorce, since the time that certaine of the noble Ladies, and Gen­tle-women, haue made accompt of their yeares, not by the number of Consuls, but by the number of their husbands; and depart from them to bee married, and are married to bee diuorced? So long as diuorce was rare, so long was it feared, but after that few or no marriages were continued without diuorce, the often hearing of it taught them to vse it. Is any woman now a-daies asha­med of whordome, since the world is growne to that passe, that few take a husband but to cloake their whoredomes? Chastitie is an argument of de [...]or­mitie, where shall a man finde a woman so miserable, or so loathsome, that will [Page 50] content her selfe with one paire of adulterers? I pray God these Pagan errors to­gether with di­uorce bee not crept into En­gland. except shee haue for eu [...]ry houre one, and yet the day is not long enough to suffice all, except shee bee carried to one friend, and dine with an other, nay shee doteth, and is too much of the old stampe, that knowes not that the keeping of one Lemman is good wedlocke. Like as the shame of these faults is vanished at this day, since the sinne beganne to get large scope, so shalt thou make the thankelesse sort both more and more bold, if they may once beginne to number themselues.

CHAP. XVII.

WHat then? shall the thankelesse person escape vnpunished? what then? shall he be vnchasticed that hath no pietie? the malicious, the couetous, hee that followeth and feedeth his owne desires, hee that delighteth in cruc [...]f [...]e? Thinkest thou that they shall be vnpunished which are so hatefull? or supposest thou that any punishment is more gri [...]uous than publique hatred? The punishment of ingratitude is contempt of all men. It is a punishment that he dare not take a good turne at any mans handes, that hee dare not doe a good turne to any, that he is a gazing-stock to all men, or at leastwise supposeth him­selfe to be so, and that he hath lost the vnderstanding of the thing that was sin­gularly good, and singularly sweet. Callest thou him vnhappie that wanteth his eye-sight? or him whose cares are deafned by the meanes of sicknesse? and doest thou not accompt him wretched, The miserie of an vngratefull receiuer. that hath lost the force of benefits? He feareth the Gods, who are witnesses against all vngratefull men, the knowledge he hath how he is entercepted and excluded from benefiting, or doing curtesies, burneth and vexeth him inwardly: finally, this very punishment is great e­nough for him, that (as I said before) hee cannot reape the fruit and enjoy so pleasant a thing. But he that is delighted, and contented in that he hath recei­u [...]d a good turne, enjoyeth equall and perpetuall pleasure, and rejoyceth in be­holding the mind of him that gaue, and not the thing was giuen. A good turne continually delighteth a thankefull man, an vngratefull man but once. Besides this, let either of their liues bee compared with other. The one is alwaies sad and sorrowfull, and walketh like a cheater, and fraudulent person, who respe­cteth not the dutie hee oweth to his Parents which begot him, nor of those friends that bred him vp, nor of those Masters which instructed him. The o­ther is alwaies joyfull and merrie, expecting an occasion to yeeld satisfaction, and conceiuing a great ioy in this very affection, not seeking meanes to make that appeare lesse which he hath receiued, but how hee may satisfie more fully and honorably, not only his Parents and Friends, but also other persons of mea­ner reckoning. For although hee hath receiued a benefit at his bond-mans hands, he considereth not from whom, but what he hath receiued.

CHAP. XVIII.

ALthough it be a question amongst some (amongst whom Hecaton is one) whether a bond-man can benefit his Master or no. For there are some that distinguish after this manner. That certaine thinges are benefits; certaine, duties, and certaine, seruices. They say that we ought to call that a benefit which we receiue from a [Page 51] strang [...]r, and we terme him a stranger that is not borne to doe vs any pleasure, except he please: They name that, dutie, which appertaineth properly to a Sonne, a Wife, and those persons who are prouoked by alliance, and tied by offices, He reproueth this opinion and proueth the contrarie. to assist. They terme that, seruice, which belongeth to a slaue or bond-man, who is brought to this exigent by the condition of his fortune, so that he cannot in any sort challenge his Superiour for any thing, whatsoeuer hee hath done vnto him. This notwithstanding whosoeuer denieth, that bond-men may not sometimes doe their Masters a good turne, is ignorant of the Law of Nature, for it concerneth vs to consider, of what minde he is that giueth the be­nefit, not of what state or calling. Vertue hideth her selfe from no man, shee entertaineth and accepteth all men, shee inuiteth all [...] Gentlemen, Francklins, Bond-men, Kings, and banished Men; shee chooseth neither house nor reue­nue, but is contented with the bare name. For what safeguard should there be against casualties, or what great thing could the minde promise it selfe, if for­tune could change a certaine and setled vertue? if the bond-man giueth not a benefit to his Master, neither doth any Subject to his King, nor Souldier to his Captaine, for what skilleth it, in what state of subiection a man be, if he be vn­der one which is Soueraigne? For if necessitie, and feare of extremitie doe barre a bond-man from attaining the name of desert, the same also will barre him that is vnder a King, or a Captaine, who haue the like power ouer him, although it be vnder a different Title: but men gratifie their Kings, and giue benefits to their Captaines, therefore slaues may doe curtesies to their Masters: A bond-man may be just, valiant, and couragious; Ergo, he may also giue a benefit. For this proceedeth only from vertue, and so may bond-men giue their Masters benefits, as they haue often times made them their benefits. There is no doubt but that a bond-man may doe a curtesie to any man, why then may he not giue fauour and pleasure to his owne Master?

CHAP. XIX.

BEcause (saith he) hee cannot become his Masters creditor, Obiections a­gainst the aboue said reasons. if hee should giue him his money; yet otherwise he daily obligeth his Master vnto him: he followeth him in his iournies, he ministreth vnto him in his sicknesses, hee reuerenceth him with great care, and labour: yet all these (which would bee thought benefits if an other should doe them) are but seruices as long as a bond-man doeth them: All good offices in a slaue are but duties and no benefits. For that is a benefit (and is only rightly so called) that a man doeth, who was at libertie not to doe it. But a bond-man hath not the power of refusall, thus giueth he, and lendeth he nothing, but is only obedient to that which is com­manded him: neither can hee boast of his doing, because he could not refu [...]e to doe the same. Euen vnder these termes will I conquer thee, and confute thy o­pinion, and so farre will I plead the bond-mans cause, that in diuers acts he shall be esteemed free. Meane while, I pray you tell me, if I shew you a slaue figh­ting couragiously without feare of death, in defence of his Masters life, and without respect of his owne, wounded with infinite blowes, yet suffering his bloud to streame from his deepe wounds, euen to the last and vttermost drops, to the end that his Master in the meane time may finde an opportunitie to escape, purchasing the meanes by his owne death, to winne so much time as [Page 52] he may, to saue his Masters life: Wouldest thou denie that he did his Master a friendship, because he is his bond-man? If I shew thee one, that by no tyranni­call premises could be corrupted, or threats terrified, or torments feared, to be­wray his Masters secrets; but as much as in him lay, remoued all suspicions that were surmised, and employed all his forces to expresse his faith: wouldest thou denie (because he was a bond-man) that he did his Master a good turne? See rather, if it be not so much the greater kindnes, as the example of vertue is ra­ther in bond-men; & consequently, so much the more worthy thanks: for that whereas superiority is commonly hated, and all constraint esteemed grieuous, yet the loue of some one toward his Master, hath surmounted the common ha­tred of bondage. So then, for that cause it ceaseth not to be a benefite because it proceeded from a bond-man: but therefore is it greater, because bondage it selfe could not deterre him from doing the same.

CHAP. XX.

HEe is deceiued, whosoeuer thinketh that seruitude taketh possessi­on ouer the whole man: the better part of him is exempted. The bodies are bred and subiect to their Masters, but the minde is pri­uiledged in it selfe: it is so free and restlesse, that it cannot be re­strained in this prison, wherein it is inclosed: it cannot be held from vsing his forces, & performing great matters, & passing beyond all bounds, as companion of the celestiall Gods. It is the body therefore that Fortune hath submitted to the Master, This bought he, this selleth he: that interior part can­not be bought or sold, or suffer seruitude. Whatsoeuer issueth from that is free: for neyther can we command them all things, neyther can our bond-men be compelled to obey vs in all things: they are not bound to execute that which shall be preiudiciall for the common weale: they are not tyed to assist any wic­ked and insolent action.

CHAP. XXI.

He yeeldeth a direct answer to the former re­ply. THere are certaine things which the lawes neither command, nor forbid to be done: in these hath a bond-man matter of benefite. As long as he doth that which his Master may iustly command him to do, it is called and is seruice; when more then is necessary for a seruant to doe, a benefite: when it passeth into the affection of a friend, it ceaseth to be called a seruice. There are certaine things which a Master is bound to furnish his seruant with, namely, with meate, and drinke, and rayment: but no man will call this a benefite. But if he haue giuen him all that he would, if he haue nourished him as a free-man, if he haue instructed him in the liberall sciences: this ought to be called a benefite. The same contrariwise may be said in the person of a bond-man: whatsoeuer it be that exceedeth the duty and rule of a bond-mans seruice, it is not done of awe and command, but voluntarily and willingly, is a benefite, prouided alwayes, that it be such, that it may merrit the name, when another forraine person shall do it.

CHAP. XXII.

A Bondman (as Chrysippus saith) is a perpetuall hireling, now euen as he giueth a benefit, when he performeth more then that daies worke to which he was hired; so when as the bond-man (by rea­son of the loue and affection hee beareth his Master) surpasseth the termes of his miserable fortune, and performeth some extra­ordinarie and braue enterprise, which might bee held honorable in one more happily borne, and surmounteth the hope and expectation of his Master, then is it a benefit, which is found in his owne house. Seemeth it a matter iust and in­different to thee, that if wee bee displeased with those that doe lesse then their dutie, we should not be thankefull vnto them, that performe more then either they should or are accustomed? wilt thou know when it is no benefit? then it is, when it may be said, what if he would not doe it? But when he performeth that which he might lawfully refuse, it is praise-worthie in him that he had a will to doe it. A benefit and an injurie are contraries. The slaue may pleasure his Ma­ster, i [...] he may receiue an injurie at his hands: And yet there is an expresse Iudge appointed to heare the complaint of bond-men against their Masters, who may contrarie and represse their crueltie, lust, and hard dealing [...] and chastise the co­uetousnesse of those Lords, who refuse to allow their slaues ordinarie food, and necessarie garments. What then? doth the Master receiue a benefit at his bond­mans hands? ye, a man, from a man: To conclude, he hath done that which was in his power, hee hath giuen his Master a benefit; it is in thy choice whether thou wilt receiue it from a bond-man. But who is so great whom fortune may not compell to stand in need euen of the basest and poorest of his people? Now will I relate many and different examples of benefits, and some also contrarie to one another. Some one slaue hath saued his Masters life, another also gaue him his death. An other hath deliuered his Master at the instant when he should die, and (if this be but a small matter) by loosing his owne life hath sa­ued his Masters. There haue beene some that haue helped their deaths, and others that haue preserued them by beguiling them.

CHAP. XXIII.

CLAVDIVS QVADRIGARIVS in the eighteenth Booke of his Chronickes reporteth, that when the Citie Grumentum was be­leagred, and brought into a desperate estate and extreme miserie: that two slaues fled vnto the Enemies camp, and performed an action worthie their labour and perill: For after the Citie was taken, and the victorious enemie ranged and reuelled euerie where, these two slaues (who knew all the by-waies) were the first that set forward to make bootie of that house wherein they had serued. And hauing surprised their Mistris, they rudely droue her before them: And being demanded what woman shee was: they answered that it was their Mistris, who had in times past most cruelly handled them, and that they dragged her out, to bring her to her death: and by this pollicie hauing gotten her out of the Citie, they carefully hid her: But afterwards when the Roman Souldiers were satisfied [Page 54] with pillage, and reduced to their former discipline and manners, these slaues likewise returned to their former seruitude, and gaue their Mistresse her won­ted libertie. In acknowledgement whereof shee presently set them both at li­bertie, and was not ashamed to receiue her life at their handes, ouer whom shee had absolute power both of life and death: Could shee haue more cause of contentment than hereby? for had shee beene otherwise preserued, shee had but receiued an ordinarie curtesie and vulgar clemencie, (which is many times vsuall amongst Souldiers) but being preserued after this manner, it was a noble Storie, and an euerlasting example, to both the Cities. In so great confusion of the surprised Citie, when euery one minded his particular safetie, all fled from her, except her owne fugitiues. And they to expresse with what minde and in­tention they practised their former flight; fled from the Conquerors, to the Captiue; pretending the countenance of Murtherers, which was the greatest point in that benefit. So much thought they it better to seeme Murtherers of their Mistresse, lest than that shee should haue beene murthered indeede: It is not beleeue me, it is not I tell you, the act of a seruile minde, to buy a noble a­ction by the fame and opinion they gaine of their wickednesse: Caius Vettius the Praetor of the Marses, See Lipsius notes, why this Transla [...]ion is vsed contrarie to the originall. was led vnto his death; his bond-man drew the sword of that very Souldier that dragged him, and first of all slew his Master, and af­terwards (it is time, saith he, to enfranchise and deliuer my selfe, since now al­readie I haue set my Master at libertie) at one stroke thrust himselfe through. Shew me any man that hath preserued his Master more magnificently.

CHAP. XXIIII.

CAESAR besieged The Romanes now call it, Campe del Santo Pelino. Corfinium, and Domitius was shut vp in the same, who considering his danger, commanded a slaue of his (who was practised in Phisique) to giue him poison: And per­ceiuing that by all meanes he sought occasion not to doe it, Why delayest thou (saith he) as if all this were in thy power? armed, I in­treat thee, to yeeld me death. Hereupon his slaue promised to performe it, and gaue him a harmelesse potion to drinke vp, wherewith being laid a-sleepe, hee came vnto his sonne and said. Command me to be kept in sure hold, till by the euent thou vnderstandest, whether I haue giuen thy Father poison or no. DOMITIVS li­ued, and was saued by Caesar; but yet his bond-man had saued him first.

CHAP. XXV.

DVring the time of the ciuill Warres, a bond-man hid his Master who was proscribed, and hauing fitted his rings on his fingers, and put on his garment, he presented himselfe to the Sergeants, and told them that hee required no fauour at their handes, but that they boldly might performe that which they were commanded; and there withall held out his necke for them to hew off. How great a mans part was this for a slaue to be willing to die for his Master in such a time, as it were rare fidelitie not to wish his Masters death? in publique crueltie to bee found gentle? in publique perfidiousnesse faithfull? when great rewards were pub­lished [Page 55] for euery one that would betray, to desire death as the reward of his fidelitie?

CHAP. XXVI.

I Will not ouerslip the examples of our Age: vnder Tiberius Caesar there was an ordinarie licence, and almost a publique rage in ap­peaching and accusing, which (farre more grieuous than any ciuill Warre) consumed and destroied both the Senate and No­bilitie. Exceptions were taken against drunken mens wordes, and thinges spoken in jest were censured in earnest nothing was secure, and all occasion of crueltie was pleasing; neither now expected men what their pe­naltie should be who were accused, where all were punished after the same sort. In that time Paulus who had beene a Praetor before-times, supped at a certaine banquet, hauing on his finger a rich stone, whereon was engrauen the Image of the Emperour Tiberius [...] I should play the foole too much if I should seeke for some more cleanely words to expresse vnto you, how hee tooke the cham­ber-pot: This was presently obserued by Maro (who was one of the Spies, and most noted informer [...] of that time.) But his slaue (against whom this trea­son was plotted) secretly stole away the ring from his Masters finger who was drunke: and when as Maro afterwards would take witnesse of those that were at the banquet, how Paulus had handled his members (not to be named with­out modestie) with the Emperours Image, and importuning them to subscribe to that accusation, the slaue shewed before all the companie, that his Masters ring was on his finger. Whosoeuer shall tearme this man a slaue, he should also call that other Spie an honest guest.

CHAP. XXVII.

VNder Augustus Caesar, mens words were not as yet dangerous vnto them; yet beganne they alreadie to displease: Rufus a Senator, as hee sate at supper, wished that Caesar might not re­turne in safetie and health from that progresse hee then inten­ded; and added this further-more, That all the Bulls and Calues of the Countrie desired no lesse: Some there were that diligently ob­serued his words: The next morning, as soone as it was day, a seruant and bond-man of his, that had attended at his feete, reported vnto him those words he had spoken in his drunkennesse the night before, and counsailed him present­ly to goe and seeke out Caesar, and to bee his owne first accuser. According to this his counsaile his Master met Caesar at his first comming downe. And when he had sworne vnto him that he was not well in his wits ouer night, and wished that the euill he had vttered might fall vpon him, and vpon his children, and be­sought Caesar that he would pardon him, and receiue him into his fauor againe? After that the Emperour had assured him that hee would willingly doe it; no man will beleeue, said RVFVS, that thou hast admitted mee againe into thy fauour, except thou giue mee somewhat, and thereupon hee required no small summe of money, at reconciled Caesars hands, and obtained the same, who there withall said vnto him. For mine owne sake I will endeuour neuer to bee angrie with thee [Page 56] without an occasion. CAESA [...] behaued himselfe honestly in pardoning him, and besides annexed this liberality to his clemencie. Whosoeuer shall heare this ex­ample reported, he must needly praise Caesar, but it must be after he hath praised the bond-man. Except you meane that I should show you that he was made free for this seruice he did. He was so; but not without ransome, for Caesar had payed the money for his freedome.

CHAP. XXVIII.

AFter so many examples, is there any doubt but that a Master may sometimes receiue a benefit at his bond-mans hands? why should the person rather lessen the dignitie of a thing, then the thing en­noble the person? All men haue the same beginnings, and the same original; no man is more noble then another, except it be such an one that hath a better wit, and is more apt to good Arts. They that set forth their Pedi­grees, and their ancestors in a long row, interlined with many branches of col­laterall descents on the forefront of their houses, are rather noted then no­ble: we haue all of vs but one parent, which is the world, whether it be by fa­mous, or bare descent; euery man conueyes his first pedigree from it. There is no cause why these should deceiue thee, who when they reckon vp their ance­stors: wheresoeuer some noble name faileth them, they presently faine a god. Despise no man, though his pedigree be worne out of remembrance, and hee smally furthered by vnfriendly fortune, whether our predecessors were free­men, or bond, or forrainers. [...]ouragiously aduance ye your mindes; and what­soeuer basenesse lieth in the way, leape ye ouer it. Great nobilitie attendeth for you at the last. Why with pride are we lifted vp vnto so great vanitie, that from seruants we disdaine to receiue benefits; and looke vpon their sort, forgetting deserts? Doest thou call any one a seruant, thou being a seruant of lust and of gluttonie, and of an adulteresse, yea a common slaue of adultere [...]ses? Callest thou any one a seruant? Whither now art thou dragged by these groomes; who beare about this thy litter? Whether do these in liuery-cloaks, who counterfeit a souldier-like, and no vulgar attire indeed? Whither, I say, doe these carrie thee abroad? to the doore of some doore-keeper, to the gardens of some, who doth not indeed beare office in ordinarie. And yet deniest thou, that a benefit can bee giuen to thee by thy seruant, to whom it is a benefit to haue a kisse from the seruant of another man? What so great discord of minde is this? At the same time thou despisest and reuerencest seruants. Within doores thou art imperious and out-ragious, base abroad; and as well contemned, as contemning. For ne­uer doe any more abase their minds, then they who wickedly lift them vp: and none are more readie to treade vpon other men, then they who haue learned to proffer reproch, by receiuing it.

CHAP. XXIX.

THese things were to be spoken to represse the insolencie of men depending vpon fortune, and to approue the right of a benefit to be giuen by a seruant, that also it might be approued to be giuen by a son. For it is in question, whether children at any time can giue greater benefits to their parents, then they haue receiued. This is granted, that many children haue beene greater, and more mightie then [Page 57] their parents, as also better and more vertuous then they: which being true; It may be also that they haue done more for them that bred them; whereas both their fortune was greater, and their will better: But whatsoeuer it be (saith he) that the sonne giueth the father, it is lesse then his father hath done for him, be­cause of duty he oweth this power of giuing to his father. So as hee can neuer properly be ouercome in benefits who hath giuen another the meanes to ex­ceed him in the same. For some things take their beginning from others, and yet they are greater then their beginnings, neither is any thing therfore greater then that from whence it had his beginning, for that it could not haue growne to that greatnes except it had begun. There is almost nothing but far exceedeth his first originall. Seedes and graines are the causes of all that which groweth in this world; yet are they the least parts of those things which come of them. Looke vpon the Rhine, looke vpon Euphrates, finally doe but obserue all other riuers so renouned, and what are they if you estimate them by their head-springs from whence they flow? whatsoeuer they be feared for, wherein soeuer they be renouned, they haue purchased it in their course and progresse. Take away rootes and the Forrests will neuer grow nor ouerspread, neither shall the toppes of the mountaines be couered with woods. Looke vpon these Timber-trees, whether you regard their great height, or their wonderfull solidity and broad spreading of their branches, how small a thing, in comparison of these, is that which the roote in small and tender spreadings comprehendeth. The Temples are builded vpon their foundations, as also these great walles of Rome, are, and yet that which was first laide to sustaine this whole worke, lies hidden vnder earth. The like falleth out in all other things. The greatnesse that they attaine vnto in time, doth alwaies obscure their beginnings. I could not haue at­tained to any thing, if the benefite of my parents had not gone before; yet fol­loweth it not for all this, that that which I haue obtayned is lesse then that same which gaue mee the meanes to acquire it: Except my nurse had suckled mee in infancie, I could haue performed none of those things, which I haue sithence acted by my counsell and valour, neither should I haue obtained this dignitie and honour, which I haue risen vnto by ciuill and militarie demerit: but wilt thou for this cause more prize my nurses first endeuours, then the great actes I haue atchieued by my so many vertuous attempts. And then what difference wilt thou find herein, considering that I could not encrease in honor, without the tender care of my nurse, no lesse then without my fathers benefit?

CHAP. XXX.

BVt if I owe wholly to my beginning, whatsoeuer I more can do, thinke you that neither my father is my true beginning, nor my Grand-father indeed. For alwaies there will be somewhat more ancient, from which the originall of the nearest originall may de­scend. But no man is said to owe more to them that are unknowne, and to an­cestors which haue beene before memorie of man, then to a father. But, I owe more, if my father, because he hath begotten me, owneth this very thing vnto his ancestors. Whatsoeuer I haue done for my father, how great soeuer it be, it is nothing to be esteemed in respect of the benefit he hath done me, for I had not bin, had he not begotten me. And by the same reason, if any man hath hea­led my father, being sicke and readie to die, I should be able to doe nothing for [Page 58] him that were not to be esteemed lesse, then the benefit he did vnto my father: for had he not receiued his health, my father had neuer begotten me. But see if this carie not a more likelyhood of truth, that the things which I could both doe, and haue done, should be esteemed as mine own, and in mine owne power, and at mine owne will. That I am borne (if thou consider what a thing it is in it selfe) thou shalt finde it a small and vncertaine matter, and the common sub­iect of good and euill, and vndoubtedly the first step to all things; but yet not therefore greater then all, because the first. I haue preserued and kept my Father aliue, I haue preferred and exalted him to the highest degree of honour, and haue made him a Prince in his Citie: I haue enobled him, not onely by those my vertuous enterprises, which I haue honourably atchie­ued; but also haue giuen him an assured meanes to aduance himselfe, I haue put into his handes an easie meanes to obtayne much honour and glorie: I haue heaped together vpon him dignities and riches, and all whatsoeuer mens ambition can desire. And where I surpassed all others in authority, I submitted my selfe to him: Tell me now, I pray thee, if thou couldest doe all these things, except it were by thy fathers meanes? I will briefly answer, and tell thee, that it is altogether so, if to the performance of so many worthy things it sufficed on­ly to be borne. But if to liue well and vertuously a naked life is the least part, and if thou hast but giuen me that which is common to me, with bruite beasts, yea, with the least, the most despised, and the most loathsome: I beseech thee attri­bute not that to thy selfe, which proceedeth not alone from thy benefits, al­though in some sort also, it cannot eyther breed or be without thine. Suppose that for the life which thou hast giuen, I haue restored thy life: in so doing like­wise I haue surmounted thy benefit, because I know what I giue, and thou that which thou receiuedst: whereas I gaue thee life, not for my pleasure sake, or with my pleasure, when seeing it is so much more estimable to be able to retain and conserue life, then to receiue the same, by how much it is lesse dreadfull and terrible to die, then to apprehend the feare and conceit of death.

CHAP. XXXI.

I Gaue thee a life, that thou mightst presently vse: thou gauest me a life, when I knew not whether I should enioy it, or no. I gaue thee life, when thou wert in danger of death: thou hast giuen me life, to the end I might die. I haue giuen thee a consummate and per [...]ite life: thou hast engendred mee depriued of reason and iudgement, and no otherwise but to be a burthen to others armes. Wilt thou know how small a benefite it is to giue life in such sort? If thou hadst cast mee forth, then in that case it had beene iniurie to haue begotten me. Whereby I gather, that our begetting by father and mother, is the least benefit that can be, except other things accompany it, that must prosecu [...]e the beginning of this benefite, A Christian do­ctrine from a [...]ea [...]en Stoick. and so ratifie the same by other offices. It is no good thing to liue, but to liue well. But you will say, I liue well: yea, but so I might also haue liued ill: therefore this onely is thine, that I liue. If thou imputest vnto me a life in it selfe, naked and destitute of counsell, and boastest thereof, as if it were a good and great thing: thinke with thy selfe, that thou imputest to me such a good, which is common as well to wormes and flies, as to me. Moreouer, not to vaunt of any other thing, but onely in that I haue endeuoured my selfe to learne the liberall sciences, to the end I might direct the rest of my life in the right way: if I liue [Page 59] discreetly by this means, thou hast in this receiued a greater benefite then thou gauest mee. For thou gauest mee vnto my selfe both rude and ignorant, and I gaue my selfe to thee such a sonne, as thou maist reioyce that euer thou bego [...] ­test me.

CHAP. XXXII.

MY father nourished me, if I doe no lesse for him, herein I am more beneficiall vnto him, because he not onely conceiueth ioy, in that he is nourished, but because he is nourished by his sonne, & grea [...]ter pleasure and contentment he receiueth in my good will, then he doth in the gift it selfe. The meate which he gaue me, onely nourished my bodie. What if a man hath so far aduanced his owne fortunes, that either for his eloquence, his iustice, or his chiualrie [...] he should grow famous in forraine countries, and had also made his father highly renowned, and so by his lustre dispelled the obscurity and cloudie darkenesse of his base birth: hath he not, thinke you, herein bestowed an vnestimable benefit vpon his parents? Should any man euer haue knowne Ariston and Grillus, had it not beene for [...]e­n [...]phon and Plato their sons? Socrates exempteth Sophro [...]is [...]us his name from ob­liuion and death. It were too long to reckon vp all the rest, who liue by no o­ther meanes, but, in that their children eternized their memories, by their own famous actions. Whether did Agrippa the father (who after his sonnes great­nesse was scarcely knowne in Rome) giue a greater benefit, or Agrippa the son to his father, who alone was honoured with a Nauall Crowne (which was the greatest honour that was accustomed to be giuen to men of warre) who raised so many sumptuons buildings in the Citie, which both exceeded all former magnificence, and were neuer equalled by any after? Whether did Octauius giue his son Augustus the Emperor a greater benefit, or the Emperor Augustus to his father, although the shadow of adoptiue father had in som sort obscured the benefit of Octauius? What ioy and contentment had he conceiued, if after the extirpation of a ciuill warre, he had seene him command and gouerne the Romane Empire in security & peace? Who doubteth, but that he could hard­ly acknowledge his owne good, or sufficiently beleeue the same, and as often as he considered his owne meane estate, conceiue that such a man a [...] he could be borne in his house? Why should I now prosecute the rest, whom obliuion had already swallowed vp, except their childrens glory had deliuered them out of this forgetfull darkenesse? Moreouer, we enquire not whether any sonne hath giuen greater benefits to his father then he receiued at his hands [...] but, whether any sonne can yeeld greater? And although the examples of those which hi­therto I haue related, do not as yet suffice and satisfie, neither surpasse the good which they haue receiued at their fathers hands; yet Nature may make vs s [...], that h [...]reafter, which hath not as yet beene seene by the ages [...]ore passed. I [...] on [...] onely benefit cannot surmonnt the greatnesse of parents deserts, it may be that many put together may out-strip them.

[...]
[...]

CHAP. XXXIII.

SCipio then but a boy, in a certaine battell set spurs to his horse, and charging the enemie, saued his fathers life: And is it but a small matter, when, to make good the place where his father fought, he contemned so many dangers, that he pressed so many great Captaines, that he brake through as many opposites as he found before him: in the first seruice that euer he had seene, and being as yet but a raw souldier, he s [...]t forward and charged before the oldest seruitors, and performed many valorous actions, farre exceeding the forces of his age? Adde hereunto, that he defended his father, being accused of a capitall crime, and deliuered him from the conspiracy of his mighty enemies, that he gaue him a second and third consulate, and other honours also, which they who before time haue beene Consuls, might wish and craue for: and seeing him poore, gaue him those goods which he had gotten by right of warre, and that which a man who maketh prof [...]ssion of armes esteemeth most honourable also: hee enriched him with those spoyles which he had gotten from his enemies. If this as yet seeme but little vnto thee, thou mayst adde the Prouinces which he gaue him, and the go­uernments and extraordinary charges, which were afterwards continued vnto him by his meanes. Adde further, that after he had razed so many great cities, how this braue man (the defender & founder of the Roman Empire, that was to be extended from the East vnto the West, without a Riual) enobled him the more, who was already noble. Say that he was Scipios father, yet vndoubtedly the common and ordinary good that parents doe in begetting children, hath beene farre surmounted by Scipios incomparable piety and vertue, who I know not whether he brought the Citie more defence or honor.

CHAP. XXXIIII.

THen if these examples seeme little vnto thee; admit that some man hath deliuered his father from torments, suppose that hee himselfe hath suffered the same to deliuer him. For thou maiest dilate and extend the childrens benefits as farre as thou wilt. Wheras contrariwise the fathers benefit in procreation is not on­ly simple and easie, but further not voluntarie also in him that giueth: what neede we so many words? Lex Pappia, or Poppea. The father hath giuen being to those, to whom hee knoweth not, whether he hath giuen being or no, wherin he hath his wife a con­sort and partaker, wherein he respecteth the law of his Countrie, the praise and reward of Parents, the perpetuitie of his house and familie, and all things rather then him to whom he gaue the same: what if any one (hauing obtained wise­dome) hath informed and instructed his father therein, shall wee now grow in question whether he hath giuen any thing greater then he receiued? Conside­ring that hee hath giuen his father a happie life, hauing receiued at his fathers hands but a badde life only; but saith hee, it is the fathers benefit whatsoeuer thou doest, or whatsoeuer thou canst returne vnto him againe. So is it the be­nefit of my Master, if I haue profited in liberall studies [...] and yet we may trans­cend and surpasse those goods, we haue receiued from those, who haue taught vs, as we also doe their benefits, who haue taught vs to reade, and to know our first elements. And although without them no man can learne any thing, yet [Page 61] all that which he hath afterwards learned is not the inferiour to the same: There is a great difference betwixt the first and the greatest things: neither therefore are the first comparable to the greatest, because without the first the greatest cannot bee.

CHAP. XXXV.

IT is time now, if I may so terme it, to produce some pe [...]ces of our owne coine. He that hath bestowed such a benefit, aboue which there may be somewhat found better, may bee ouer-come in be­nefits: The Father gaue life vnto his Sonne, but there is some­thing better then life, so the father may be ouercome in a benefit by the sonne, because the sonne may giue some thing better and greater then the father. Furthermore, hee that hath giuen life to an other man, if once or twice [...]e were deliuered by the same man from death, he hath receiued a grea­ter ben [...]it then that which he gaue; so the father hath giuen life; but if he be oft-tim [...]s deliuered from the perill of death by his sonne, hee shall receiue a greater b [...]nefit then he gaue him. He that hath receiued a good turne, the more he needeth that which he hath receiued, he hath receiued the great [...]r goodnes: but he t [...]t liueth, hath more want of life, then he that is not borne (as of whom he cann [...]t properly say, to haue neede of any thing.) The father therefore hath receiu [...] [...] greater good turne, if he hath receiued life at his sonnes hands, then the sonne from the father, in that he is borne: But the parents benefits cannot be surmounted by these good offices, the child performeth vnto him, why? be­cause he [...]ath receiued his life from his father, which had hee not receiued hee could not haue giuen a benefit. This is then but common to the father, and all those who haue at any time giuen life to any man. For had they not receiued life, they could not haue returned beneficiall gratitude: Therefore greater sa [...]tisfaction is not intended to the Physitian, though the Phys [...] likewise i [...] wont to giue life; nor to the Mariner though hee hath saued from shipwrack, so that a man may surmount the benefits both of the one and [...]he other, who hath by any meanes saued our lifes; and consequently then th [...] benefits of our parents may be also exceeded: if any man hath done mee a good turne which serueth me to no vse, except it be assisted and seconded by the [...]auours of diuer [...] other persons, and if afterwards I haue done him an other courtesie, that hath no neede of other mens assistance, I haue giuen a greater good turne then that which I haue receiued: The father hath giuen life to his child, which he should loose instantly, were it not sustained by diuers other succours [...] But if the sonne hath saued his fathers life, he hath giuen him such a life, as hath no neede of any other assistance to sustaine it selfe of it selfe. Ergo the father receiuing life at his sonnes hands, receiueth a greater benefit, then that was which the father hath giuen him.

CHAP. XXXVI.

Note the au­thors prudence. THese things destroy not the reuerence which is due vnto parents, neither make they their children to become worse vnto them, but rather better: for vertue is of a glorious and noble disposi­tion, and deserueth to out-strip the formost. The pietie and af­fection of children will be more forward, if they may hope to sur­mount the kindnesse and fauour their parents haue done them. If this should happen to parents willing and glad of the same (because in many things it is for our owne good to be ouer-come) whence can wee imagine to ensue so accep­table a contention, whence so great happinesse to parents, as to confesse that they cannot equall their childrens benefits? If we be not thus minded, we giue our children meanes to excuse themselues, and we shall make them more slow and retchlesse in acknowledging their fathers benefits, whereas we ought to ex­cite them the more, and say vnto them, Doe this worthy children. An honest contention is raised btwixt parents and their children, to know [...]hich of them hath giuen the greatest benefits, or who hath receiued the most. The fa­thers haue not therefore preuailed, because they haue giuen the fir [...]. Take heart yong men worthy your selues, take heede you loose not your courage to ouer-come those who desire no other thing then to bee ouer-come: You want no Captaines to vndertake so braue a conflict, and to encourage you to follow them, who command you but to goe the same course for to obtaine [...]ese vi­ctories, which they haue often gained against their parents.

CHAP. XXXVII.

AENEAS ouer-came his father in curtesie, for his father carried him in his armes when hee was an Infant (a waight neither dangerous nor heauie) wher the other bare him on his shoul­ders, loden with age, through the midst of the armed enemie, and through the falling ruines of his Citie, at such time as the deuout old man embraced betwixt his armes his domestique Gods, and the sacred Reliques of his house, loding his sonnes shoulders with more then his owne person, yet went hee onward with much adoe: carrying him through the slames and ruines of the Citie (what is it not, but the pietie and loue of a sonne may preserue) and bringing him out of all danger, ranked him afterwards amongst the Gods, and placed him in the number of those first founders of the Roman Empire, to be honored and reuerenced with them. The yong men of Sicily ouer-came and surmounted their fathers. For at such time as Mount AEtna was so highly enflamed, Two yong men of Sicily the one called Am­phinomus, the other An [...]pus. that it vomited fire vpon the Cities and neighbouring Plaines, and had consumed the greater part of the Isle, they caried their fathers thence vpon their backs: It is beleeued that the fire miracu­lously separated and diuided it selfe, and that the flames retiring themselues on both sides, opened a large passage to suffer those vertuous yong men to trauell through it, to the end that without danger they might safely performe their great attempt: Antigonus sonne also ouer-came in this kinde, who when as in a great battell he had discom [...]ed his enemie, transferred the treasures & wealth of the conquest, to his father, and with it gaue him the Empire of Cipres. This [Page 62] is a Kingdome in minde to refuse gouernement, See Cicero 3. de Ossicijs, and Liuie in his 7. Booke, as touch­ing this Man­lius. when it is in thy hands. Titus Manlius a [...]so ouer-came his Lordly and Imperious father; who although hee had beene driuen out of his fathers house for a time, and sent into the Country, because in his youth hee was somewhat hard in apprehension, yet came hee to the Tribune of the people (who had adjoyned his father to appeare in person to answere to a capitall crime) and asking him what time of appearance, he had assigned his father. The Tribune hoping that hee would betray his hated fa­ther, supposing that hee had done herein a thankefull office for the yong man, he suffered him to see, (amongst other crimes he accused him of) how hee had banished and driuen him out of his house: which when the yong man discoue­red, getting him alone in a secret place, he drew his dagger which he had hidden in his bosome, and said; Except thou sweare to reuoke this personall adiourniment of my fathers, I will thrust thee through with this weapon: It lyeth in thy power to choose which of these two waies, my father shall haue no accuser. The Tribune swore and kept touch with him: but hee made it knowne in an assembly of the Ro­man people, why he had desisted from this accusation. It had not beene possible for any other man to haue ouer-ruled the Tribune after this manner, and to escape vnpunished.

CHAP. XXXVIII.

DIuers examples might I produce of many other memorable chil­dren, who haue deliuered their parents from danger, that from a base degree haue raised them to high estate, and from the mea­nest and ignoblest race of men, haue giuen them eternall and in­definite honors: It cannot be expressed by any force of words or facultie of wit, how great a worke it is, how praise worthy, and how perdurable and lasting in mens memorie; iustly to be able to say, thus much I haue obeied my parents: I haue fulfilled their commandements in whatsoeuer it were, ei­ther right, or wrong; I haue shewed my selfe obseruant and submissiue, in this only thing I haue beene wilfull, that I would not be ouer-come by them in be­nefits: Fight valiantly therefore, I pray you yong men, and though you were defeated, yet reinforce the fight anew. These that ouer-come shall be happie. They that shall bee ouer-come shall bee no lesse blessed; what person can euer receiue more honor? then that yong man, who may say vnto himselfe (for it is not lawfull for him to say it to an other) I haue ouer-come my fa­ther in well-doing? Is there any old man more happie, then he that may vaunt in all places, and before the whole world, that he hath beene ouer-come by his sonne in well-doing and benefiting? What greater happinesse is there for a man so to yeeld vnto himselfe?

The end of the third Booke.

LVCIVS ANNAEVS SENECA Of Benefits. THE FOVRTH BOOKE.

The Argument of IVSTVS LIPSIVS.

HE handled curious matters for the most part, but (according to his vsuall custome) intermixed with those that are profitable. Hee demandeth whether a benefit or fauour may be simplie in it selfe desired? He proueth the affirmatiue against the Epicures, who measured all things by their profit. Amongst other arguments he teacheth by this, that the Gods also giue benefits, which he proueth very amply against those that deny the Gods. Then he remoueth some obiections, which seeme to teach, that profit is common in benefitting. And so he commeth to thankesgiuing, and sheweth that it is only to be yeelded in regard of honestie, not of profit. Then he demandeth whether a benefit is to bee giuen to him whom thou knowest will be vngratefull: he distinguisheth in this point, and partly affir­meth, and partly denieth.

CHAP. I.

OF all those things (my AEbutius Liberalis) where­of we haue entreated, there is nothing so neces­sarie to be knowne, or (as Salust saith) more care­fully to bee taught, then that which is now in hand; namely, whether to giue a benefit, and to restore the like, be things which ought to bee de­sired for the loue of themselues. Some men there are which respect not honesty, but for profit sake, and admit not vertue without aduantage (which hath nothing magnificent in it selfe, if it hath a­ny thing that is mercinarie.) For what is more loathsome, then for a man to make reckoning how much we ought to estimate an honest man, when as vertue is neither inuited with gaine, nor terrified with losse, and is so farre from corrupting any with hope or promise, that contrari­wise she commandeth men to spend all their substance on her, and for her sake; and more often contenteth her selfe with that which is giuen freely without demand? To follow her, a man must tread all profit vnder foote: whither so­euer [Page 66] she calleth, whither soeuer she sendeth, hee ought to goe, without respect or interest of his estate or priuate affaires: and sometimes also hee must set for­ward with the hazard of his owne blood and life, neither must hee euer refuse her commandements. What reward shall I then haue saiest thou, if I doe this thing valiantly, or that thing gratefully? Onely this, that thou hast done it; vertue promiseth thee nothing beside her selfe. If any profit casually befall thee, account it amongst thine accessarie good happes. The price of honest things is in themselues, if then that which is honest be to be desired for it selfe, and a be­nefit being honest, the condition thereof cannot be different from honestie, be­cause they are both of one nature. But that the thing which is honest is to be desired for it selfe, it is often and abundantly proued alreadie.

CHAP. II.

IN this point I must wage warre with the nice and effeminate troope of Epicures, that talke of Philosophie onely at their banquet, with whom vertue is the vassal and hand-maid of vicious pleasure [...] them shee obeyeth, them shee serueth, them shee beholdeth preferred a­boue her selfe. There is no pleasure (saith he) without vertue. But why is volup­tuousnesse aduanced before vertue? Thinkest thou we dispute of the order be­tweene them, no, the question is of the whole matter, and the power thereof, it is not vertue if it dance attendance after delight. The chiefest place is hers, she it is that must leade, command, and haue the chiefest place: thou biddest her aske the watch-word. What skilleth it thee, saith the Epicure? I also main­taine, that a blessed life cannot bee without vertue. I condemne and con­temne the pleasure it selfe which I follow, and to which I haue made my selfe a bondslaue, if vertue be remoued from it. The onely question is in this, whe­ther vertue be the cause of the chiefest good, or the chiefest good it selfe. Admit that this be the only thing in question, thinkest thou that there is but the onely change of place and order onely betweene them, that breedeth the difference? This is a very confusion, this is a manifest blindnesse, to preferre the last before the first. I am not displeased because vertue is placed after pleasure, but because it is any wayes or at all compared, or paralelled with pleasures. Vertue is the despiser and enemie of delight, and estrangeth her selfe farre from her, more fa­miliar with labour and sorrow, more fitly to be inserted into manly incommo­dities, then into this effeminate felicitie.

CHAP. III.

THese things (my Liberalis) were to be spoken of, because a benefit, (whereof we now entreate) is an act of vertue, and foule shame it were to giue it for any other respect, then to haue giuē it only. For if we do a curtesie in expectation of a recompence, then should we do it to the wealthiest, and not to the worthiest. Now we prefer a poore man vnable to requite, before a rich man. It is no benefit that hath re­ference to Fortune, or hope of interest. Besides, if onely profite should entice vs to do good, they should doe least good, that haue most meanes. Such as are rich men, powerfull men, and Kings, because they haue least need of other mens [Page 67] helpe. But the Gods likewise should withdraw their so many liberalities, which, without intermission, day and night they powre vpon vs. For why, their proper nature and being sufficeth them in all things, and maketh them a­bundant, secure, and inuiolable euery way. To none therefore should they giue their benefits, if their only cause of giuing proceeded from no other inten­tion, then to think on themselues and their own priuat commodities. This is no benefit, but a loane vpon vse, to respect not where you may best bestow it, but where you may place it most gainfully, whence you may most readily receiue it. Which intention, seeing it is farre estranged from the Gods: it followeth that they are diuinely liberall. For if the only cause of giuing a benefit, were the gi­uers profit, and no profit is to bee hoped or expected by God at our hands; there is no cause why God should be bountifull vnto vs.

CAAP. IIII.

I Know well what answere is made hereunto, These are the E­picures reasons, full of blasp [...]e­mie and impie­tie. which is, that God bestoweth no good vpon vs, but is altogether carelesse and re­gardlesse of vs, and not daring to cast his eyes vpon this world, busieth himselfe about other matters or (which seemeth to the Epicure to be the chiefest felicitie) hee doth nothing, neither do benefits or iniuries touch him. He that thus saith, heareth not the vowes of those that pray, neither the cries nor vowes which euery one maketh, as well in priuate, as in publike, lifting vp their ioyned hands vnto heauen: which vn­doubtedly would not be done, neither would all mankind consent vnto this madnesse, to implore a deafe deitie, and inuocate such gods as had no power to helpe them, if they knew not assuredly that the Gods giue benefits, sometimes of their owne proper motion, otherwhiles vpon prayers, that it is they, from whom we receiue so many great graces in their due times and seasons, and that by their assistance we are put out of feare, of such imminent and eminent mis­chiefes, as daily threaten vs: who is hee that is so miserable, and reiected by heauen? who is he that is so disgraced, and borne to continuall affliction and trauell? that hath not sometimes felt these great fauours and liberalities of the Gods? Doe but behold, I pray you, euen those who incessantly complaine of their miseries, and who liue so mal-contented with their fortunes, yet shalt thou finde, that they are not wholly exempted, and destitute of succours from heauen, and that there is no man on whom there hath not fallen some droppes from this sweet and gracious fountaine. Thinkest thou that it is a small matter which is equally distributed to all those that are borne in this world? And (to omit those things which the Gods bestow at their pleasure, with all proporti­on of measure) is it a small matter that nature hath giuen vs, when she hath gi­uen vs her selfe?

CHAP. V.

DOth not God bestow all benefits vpon vs? In this Chapter followeth a no­bl [...] contemplati­on of Gods bene­fits, and mens negligence, and carelesse consi­deration [...]herof. From whence then hast thou all those things whereof thou art possessed? which thou giuest? which thou deniest? which thou keepest? which thou takest vniustly? From whence come the infinitnesse of things that delight the eyes, affect the care, and please the vnder­standing? From whence is this abundance, that furnisheth our royoto [...]s ex­cesse? [Page 68] For they haue not onely prouided for our necessities, but we are tende­red by them euen vnto delicacie also. From whence haue wee so many trees, bearing sundrie sorts of sauourie fruit, so many wholesome herbes, for the maintenance of our healths, such varietie of meats, strong for al seasons through the whole yeare, that an idle sluggard may finde by casualtie sufficient suste­nance vpon the earth to feed and nourish him. Whence come so many sorts of beasts? whereof some are bread on the earth, other some in the water, and o­thers descending from the aire, to the end there might not be any part of nature, that should not be tributarie vnto vs of some rent? The Riuers likewise, wher­of some enuiron the plaines, with their pleasant reuolutions and roundnesse, o­ther streame thorow their hollow and nauigable channels, bring vs merchan­dize from forren seas, of which some at certaine prefixed times take wonderfull encrease, so as the sudden force of the Sommers floud moisteneth and watereth those grounds which are situate and planted vnder the droughtie and burning Zoane. What shall I say of the vaines of some medicinable waters? What shall I speake of the bubling and boyling vp of hot Bathes euen vpon the verie shoares?

And what of thee O mightie Lake, and thee
Proud billowed Benac swelling like the See.
Georg.

CHAP. VI.

IF a man had giuen thee a few acres of land, thou wouldest say that thou hadest receiued a benefit at his hands, and deniest thou that the vnmeasurable extent of the barren earth is no benefit? If a man should giue thee money, and fill thy coffer (for that see­meth a great thing in thy sight) thou wouldest terme it a be­nefit. And thinkest thou it no fauour, that God hath hidden so many mettals in the earth, spread so many riuers on the sands, which floating, discouer ingots of massie gold, siluer, brasse, and iron, which he hath hidden euery where; that he hath giuen thee meanes and knowledge to finde it out, by setting markes of his couert riches on the vpper face of the earth? If a mā should giue thee a house enriched with marble pillars, if the couer thereof were resplendent, and painted with gold and goodly colours, thou wouldest highly esteeme this present of his? God hath builded thee a great palace, without any danger of feare or falling downe, wherein thou seest not little peeces, smaller then the chizell it selfe, wherewith they were carued, but entire huge masses of precious stone, all fastened and fashioned after a diuers and different maner, the least peece where­of maketh thee wonder at the beautie of the same: the roofe whereof shineth after one sort by day, and after another by night: and wilt thou then deny that thou hast receiued any benefit at all? Againe, whereas thou settest great store by that which thou hast, thinkest thou (which is the point of a thanklesse per­son) that thou art beholding to no body for them? Whence hast thou this breath which thou drawest? Whence commeth this light, whereby thou di­sposest and orderest the actions of thy life? From whence hast thou thy blood, in the motion and flowing whereof, thy naturall heate is maintained? Whence come these meates, which by their delicate tastes and pleasing sauours, inuite thee to [...]ate farre more then thy stomacke can disgest? Whence come these [Page 59] things which awaken thy pleasures and delights, when thou art wearied? Whence commeth this quiet and repose, wherein thou [...]ot [...]st and witherest a­way? Wilt thou not say, if thou beest thankfull:

From God springs this repose, and euermore
Him for my God [...]e honor and adore.
Virg. 1. [...]cl [...]g.
Vpon his Altar, to performe my vow,
A fir [...]tling Lambe my pastures shall allow:
For he it is, as thou dost plainly see,
That yeelds my wandring teame their pasture free,
He lets me time at pleasure, as they feed,
My country layes vpon mine [...]te [...] re [...]d.

It is that God, which hath not onely permitted vs to feede a small number of meate, but that hath filled the whole world with great troopes of cattell, that nourisheth all beasts which wander heere and there, in so many and diuers pla­ces; that giueth them new pa [...]ture [...] in Sommer time, after they haue eaten vp their Winter prouision: which hath not onely taught vs to play vpon a reed, and after some manner to tune a reede, and delightfully sing to it; but also hath inuented so many artes, so many varieties of voices, and so many sounds, to yeeld sundry tunes, some by force of our owne breath, and some by a borrowed and externall aire. For thou canst not call those things ours, which we haue in­uented, no more then thou canst call it our owne doing that wee grow, or that the bodie hath his full proportion, according to his determinate times. Now our teeth fall in our infancie, anone after wee passe into an age, which in a few yeares giueth vs all our encrease, againe, ripe age after our yong and spring­ing yeares, making vs become more strong, setleth vs in a perfect and manly age. Finally, we are come to the last period, which maketh an end of the care and course of our life. The seeds of all ages and sciences are hidden in vs from our birth, and that great work-man God produceth out of the hidden all naturall instincts.

CHAP. VII.

IT is nature, saith he, that communicateth and giueth me all these things. Vnderstandest thou not that in speaking after this man­ner, thou changest the name of God? For what else is nature but God, and a diuine being and reason, which by his searching as­sistance resideth in the world, and all the parts thereof [...] A [...] often as thou listest thou mayest call him, sometimes the Author of all things, and sometimes Ioue, (most good and most mightie.) Thou mayest also well [...]arme him the Thunderer, and establisher, who had not that name giuen him, because (as the Historiographers write) that after the Romans had made their vowes vnto him, he reinforced their hearts, and discomforted armies in the [...] behal [...]e: but because all things stand and are established by his benefit, he is therefore so called. Thou shalt not also lie, if thou call him Destiny, for whereas Fate and Destiny is but an immutable ordinance, which holdeth all causes [...] and chai­ned together: he it is that is the first of all, and he on whom all the rest tha [...] fol­low doe depend. Thou mayest fit him with any other names wha [...]soeuer thou [Page 70] wilt, prouided that they signifie and containe the force and effects of celestiall things. In briefe, he may haue as many names, as he hath attributes of graces, wherewith he besteedeth vs.

CHAP. VIII.

OVr men likewise suppose that he is Father Liber, that he is Hercu­les and Mercurie. Father Liber, because all things haue had their being and originall from him. Because that by his meanes wee first of all found out, and knew the power and vertue of seeds, which should afterwards nourish vs with a sweete and honest pleasure. Hercules, because his force is inuincible, which when it shall be wearied in performing actions, and producing inferiour things, shall returne into fire. Mercurie, because it is hee from whom reason proceedeth, and the iudgement, numbers, ranckes and order of things, and all those sciences, which wee terme Liberall. Whither soeuer thou turnest thee, there shalt thou see him meet [...] with thee: nothing is voide of him. He himselfe filleth his worke to the full. Thou preuailest nothing then (thou vngratefullest man of the world) when thou auowest, that thou art no wayes indebted to God, but to Nature: for nei­ther is Nature without God, nor God without Nature. Both these two are but one, and differ not. If thou shouldest confesse that thou owest to Ann [...]us or to Lucius, that which Seneca hath lent thee, thou shouldest only change the name, but not the Creditour. For whether thou callest him by his name or surname, it is alwaies one man,. Call him then as thou pleasest, either Nature or Fate, or Fortune, it makes no matter, because they all are the names of the selfe-same God, who diuersely vseth his diuine prouidence. Euen as Iustice, Integritie, Prudence, Magnanimitie, Temperance, and the goods and vertues of the soule, if any of these please thee, it is then the soule that pleaseth thee also.

CHAP. IX.

BVt lest by these discourses I should wander, I say that God be­stoweth many and mightie benefits, expences without hope of interest or recompence: for he hath no need of our tributes, nei­ther can we also giue him any thing. A benefit therefore ought to be desired, for the loue of it selfe; the only thing that is respe­cted therein, is the profit of the receiuer: herein let vs employ our selues, forget­ting our owne priuate commodities. You say (saith he) that we ought to make diligent election of those on whom we wil bestow our benefits, (cōsidering the labourers and husband-men themselues, will not commit their seeds vnto the sands) which if it be true, we regard in giuing benefits, as we doe in labouring and sowing our land: for to sow is not a thing that should be desired onely of it selfe. Furthermore, you aske vs to whom we ought to giue our benefits? which should not be done, if to giue a benefit were a thing to be desired of it it selfe, in what place soeuer, after what manner soeuer it was giuen, it was a benefit: for we follow that which is honest, for no other respect, but for the loue of it selfe. Yet although no other thing be to be followed, we require what we shall doe, and when, and how, for that honestie consisteth of these circumstances. When [Page 71] therefore I make choice of a man on whom I will bestow a courtesie, I doe it to the end that I may neuer faile to doe a benefit. Because if it be bestowed vpon an vnworthie man, it can be neither honest, nor a benefit.

CHAP. X.

TO restore a thing which a man is put in trust withall, The method of restitution. is a thing to be desired of it selfe; yet ought I not to restore it alwaies, nor in all places, nor at all times. Sometimes it skilleth not whether I de­ny, or whether I restore the same in all mens sight, I will respect his profit to whom I am to restore it, and perceiuing that by my restitution I shall doe him iniurie, I will deny him his right. The same will I doe in a benefit: I will see when I giue, to whom I giue, how I giue, and why I giue. For nothing is to be done without reason: it is no good turne, except it be done vpon reason, because reason ought to accompany all honest things. How often haue we heard men, that haue reproued their owne inconsiderate larges, and cast forth these words, I had rather haue lost it, then to haue giuen it to such a one. It is the most vilanous manner of losing that may be, for a man to giue foolishly and without consideration: and it is much more distastefull to haue employed a be­nefit badly, then not to haue receiued any. For it is another mans fault, if we receiue not, but it is our owne, that we made better election and choice in be­stowing it. In making my choice, I will respect nothing lesse then thou thin­kest, namely from whom I shall receiue satisfaction. Oftentimes he that ne­uer requiteth is gratefull, and he vngratefull that hath made requitall; my esti­mation aimeth at nothing but the minde and heart. And therefore will I ouer­passe the rich vnworthy man, and will bestow my courtesies on the poore good man: for in his greatest wants he will be thankfull, and when all things falle him, his mind and true heart shall not faile him. I seeke to raise no profit for my courtesies, neither affect I pleasure or glory: I content my self that I can pleasure one man. I will giue to this onely intent and end, that I may giue that which I ought: and that which I ought to doe, is not to bee done without choice and election; which, of what qualitie it shall be, doe you aske me the question?

CHAP. XI.

I Will chuse an honest, simple, mindfull, and gratefull man, that v­surpeth not vpon another mans fortunes, nor niggardly hoardeth vp his owne, or intendeth euill vnto any man. When I haue made this election, although Fortune hath left this man no power to yeeld any satisfaction, yet haue I accomplished my desire, and obtained my wish. If profit or base consideration maketh me liberall, if I profit no man, but to the end that he may pleasure me: I will not giue a gratuit [...]e to him that tra­uaileth into diuers and forren Countries: I will not giue vnto him that will be alwaies absent; I will not giue vnto such a one, who is so sicke, that there is no hope of his recouery, I will not giue, whereas I am dying my selfe, for I shall haue no time to receiue friendship againe. But to let thee know, that a benefit is a thing that ought to be desired for the loue of it selfe: wee succour strangers, that are vpon the instant cast vpon our coasts, and will presently depart for ano­ther: [Page 72] we must giue and riggeship to such a one that hath suffered shipwracke, that it may carie him backe againe into his owne country. He departeth sud­denly, scarcely knowing him that was the author of his safetie, and making no reckoning euer more to return or reuisit him againe. He assigneth the payment of his debt vnto the gods, and beseecheth them, that since he hath no meanes of satisfaction, that it will please them to bee thankefull in his behalfe: meane while the conscience of a barren benefit doth content vs. Seest thou now, that at such time when we are at deaths dore, we make our last Will and Testament, and dispose our goods and possessions, although we can reape no profite there­by? How much time is spent; how long are we secretly deliberating how much and to whom we shall giue? For what skils it to whom we giue, if we shall re­ceiue of none? And yet we neuer giue any thing more diligently, wee neuer more trauel and racke our iudge [...]ents, then when as setting all profite aside, we onely set honestie before our eyes: for so long are we euill judges of our owne offi [...]es, as long as hope, fear, and pleasure (the dishonestest vice of all) depraueth our iudgemtnts. But when the assurance of death hath made vs lose the hope of all things, and hath That is, our selues dying. See Lipsius his note. sent a iust and vncorrupted Iudge to giue sentence, then seeke we out the most worthy, to whom we may deliuer our inheritance; ney­ther dispose we any thing with more circumspection and regard, then those our possessions which appertaine no longer vnto vs.

CHAP. XII.

ANd vndoubtedly, euen then conceiueth a man the greatest content­ment, when he thinketh with himselfe; I will make such a one more rich then he is, by giui [...] him a peece of my possessions: I will in [...]rease the honour and nobilitie of his house: In briefe, if we neuer giue, but when we hope to receiue againe, we must die intestate. Thou maintaynest (saith he) that a benefite is a debt vnrepayable: but a debt is not a thing to be desired for it selfe, Ergo, benefiting or good doing, is not a thing to be desired of it selfe. When we call it a debt, we vse a comparison and translation. So likewise say we that the lawe is a rule of iust and vniust; and yet the rule is not to be desired as a thing of it selfe, but we are constrained to vse these words, the better to expresse our intent and meaning. When I say a debt, it is to be vnderstood as a thing trusted. Wilt thou know all? I adde further, vnrepayable, which shall neuer be satisfied; although there be not any debt, but eyther may or ought to be paid. Good deeds are not to be done and per [...]ormed eyther for asse­ [...]ation or vaine­glory, but for vertues sake. It is so farre from it, that we ought to doe a pleasure for our profite sake [...] that for the most part (as I haue said) we ought to doe it, though it were to our losse and perill. As for example; I rescue a man circumuented by th [...], to the end he may be permitted to passe in security: I defend a guilty person, dis­graced and oppressed by the credit of his aduersaries, and purchase to my selfe the displeasure and faction of great men for my labour, to receiue perchance by the meanes of the same, accusers, the disgraces and miseries I freed the poore man of: whereas I might haue beene partie against him, or beheld a far off, and with all assurance the debates & contentions which were entertained by other men: I giue caution for my friend adiudged, and suffer not execution to be ser­ued vpon his goods, but offer my selfe to be bound for him to his creditors, and to saue him from the prescription, I come in danger to be out-lawed my selfe. No man determineth to buy a place neere Tus [...], or Tiburtiné for his health sake, [Page 73] or for the sweetnesse of the ayre, and auoyding the summer heats, that deba­teth for how many years he shall buy it: but when he hath bought it, he must keepe it. The same reason is in benefites. For if you shall aske me, what profit will accrue thereby: I will answer, a good conscience. Askest thou what pro [...]t is yeelded by benefiting? I aske thee likewise, what profiteth it to doe iustly, to liue innocently, to be valiant and stout in honourable dangers, to liue chastly, to be temperate, if thou seekest any other interest then themselues?

CHAP. XIII.

TO what end continueth the heauen his daily and vsuall course? To what end is it, that the Sunne enlargeth and shortneth the day? All these are but benefits, for they are made for our profit. Euen as it is the office of this Vniuerse, to turn about and dispose of the order of all things: as it is the office of the Sunne, where he may arise, and where he may set, and to performe all these faire, profitable, and wholsome effects for our sake, without hope of any profit from vs: so is it the dutie of one man, amongst other things, to doe good vnto another. Askest thou me, why he giueth these benefits? Forsooth to this end, that he may not be vpbraided with guing nothing, & that he may not lose the occasion of wel-doing. But all your pleasure and delight, is to accustome your delicate bodies to a lazie idlenesse, and to long for a security, resembling that of sleepe, to couch and lie hidden vnder a close couert and arbor, and to entertaine the dulnesse of your decayed mindes, and to honor them with sweet and agreeable thoughts, which you call tranquility, and repose of spirit, to pamper your vnweldy carcas­ses while they wax wanne with meates and drinks, in the caues and cabinets of your gardens. Contrariwise, we feele a pleasure truly worthy a man in giuing benefits: although that they breed vs much sorrow and labour, prouided they set them out of trouble for whom we doe them: although they be full of dan­ger, prouided that we relieue others from their miserie: although all be to the losse & diminution of our substance, prouided that another mans pouertie and necessitie be relieued. What haue I doe to receiue benefites at another mans hands? When I haue r [...]eiued them, I must imploy and bestow them. A b [...]ne­fite respecteth not our particular, but onely his profite to whom it is giuen; o­therwise we giue vnto our selues, and not vnto others. And by this reason ma­nie things which breed another man great profit, lose their grace, because they are done for gaine. The Merchant is very profitable for the Citie, the Physiti­an for the sicke, and the Mango is one that properly selleth slaue [...], young boyes or girls, as their old custome was. Regrater for goods that are to be solde. But because all these are not profitable to any, but to enrich themselues, they oblige not those who receiue good by them.

CHAP. XIIII.

IT is no benefite that is imployed to profit. This will I giue, this will I take, is but open sale and chaffering. I will not call her mo­dest that repulsed her louer, to the end to enkindle his loue the greater, that feared the lawe or displeasure of her husband: for as Ouid saith,

She gaue that did not giue because she could not.

[Page 74] Not vndeseruedly is she numbred amongst the dishonored women that rather consecrateth her honestie to feare, then to the respect of her owne selfe: In like manner he that hath giuen a benefit to the intent hee might receiue a requitall, hath not giuen it. Shall we say that we doe good vnto beasts, when wee fatten them for our seruice, or nourish them to yeeld vs foode? That we doe good to our fruit-trees, or the Gardens, wherein they grow; when wee digge about them, least through drynesse or hardnesse of the earth (if they were not well looked vnto, or timely, and oft-times remoued) they should grow barren & wi­thered? no man manureth his fields for this cause only; because to labour is a thing good in it selfe: nor doth any other businesse, without hope of interest or gaine. A couetous thought, and addicted to gaine, will neuer breede in vs a de­sire to doe good: but a humane and liberall heart, which after it hath giuen any thing, desireth still to giue more, and redouble new curtesies vpon the old: a heart that thinketh not what profit shall arise to him that giueth: for otherwise it is a base contemptible and abiect matter to do good vnto an other, for a mans particular interest and profit: what magnificence is it for a man to loue himselfe? to thinke on nothing but his owne thrift? to trauaile no waies but for himselfe? But the true desire of doing good vnto an other, withdraweth vs from all this; and laying hold on vs, draweth vs to our losse, and disdayning our particular good, highly reioyceth in the act of well-doing only.

CHAP. XV.

CAn it be doubted, but that iniurie is contrarie to a benefit? Like as to do an iniurie is a thing to be esteemed and shunned of it selfe; euen so to doe good is a thing to be coueted for it selfe. In the one the feare of dishonour hath more power ouer vs, then all the re­compences that may moue vs to doe any thing that is euill: and in the other the appearance of honestie, which hath great power and effic [...]cie of it selfe, sufficiently inuiteth vs. I shall not lie if I say that there is not any one but loueth his owne, and that there is not any man of so mortified a will, that conceiueth not a great contentment, to see him whom he hath oft-times pleasu­red, and hath not a desire to further him farther, because hee hath done for him once before. Which thing could neuer come to passe, except we naturally tooke pleasure in our goods deedes. How often-times maiest thou heare some say. I cannot abandon him whose life I haue saued, and whom I haue alreadie drawne out of danger? he beseecheth me to maintaine his cause against his aduersaries, who haue great fauour and authoritie: I will not: but what shall I then doe? See you not how in this case, there is a certaine peculiar vertue and power that constraineth vs to succour him, and further to doe him this good in his vtmost necessitie; first, because it behoueth vs to doe it; secondly, because before times wee haue done him the like pleasure? And although at the beginning wee had no reason to succour him, yet at this time we will assist him, because wee haue already done it at ano­ther time. So farre is it that profit should impell vs to doe a pleasure, that con­trariwise we perseuer to maintayne and nourish those things that are vnpro [...]ita­ble, and conserue them for the only loue we beare to our owne benefits. And if we haue beene vnhappie in doing pleasure to any one yet is there as great rea­son to pardon him, as to forgiue our gracelesse children.

CHAP. XVI.

THese Epicures confesse that they themselues do yeeld thanks, not for that it is honest so to doe, but because it is profitable, yet with little labour we may easily approue that it is farre otherwise. For by these very arguments, wherby we proue [...] that to giue benefits is a thing to be desired in it selfe; by the same also we shall gather and conclude this: That it is a thing most assured, and from whence we gather all our proofes for all this dispute, that we prise not honestie, but only because it is honest. Who therefore dare draw it into question, that to remunerate a cur­tesie is not an honest thing? who is h [...]e that detesteth not an vngratefull man, who is only vnprofitable to himselfe? But what wilt thou say of him (when thou hearest it reported) who is vngratefull and vnthankfull to his friend for his many and mightie benefits? how wilt thou indure him, and interpret it, whe­ther he haue plaied an vnhonest part in so doing, or that hee hath dealt fondly, in omitting that which was for his commoditie and profit? I thinke thou wilt ac­compt him a wicked man, and imagine that hee rather deserueth some punish­ment, then needeth an ouer [...]seer to order his estate to his profit. Which thing should not fall out so, vnlesse honestie were a thing both honest and to bee desi­red of it selfe. Other things perhaps haue not their excellence and dignitie so apparant, and haue neede of an interpreter to expresse whether they be honest or no. But this is so apparant and so beautifull, that it can not be doubted, but that the clearnesse thereof will shine very brightly. What thing is so laudable, what so equally entertained and allowed in al mo [...]s iudgements, as to be thank­full for benefits?

CHAP. XVII.

TEll me what cause induceth vs hereunto? Is it gaine? It is impossi­ble, for he that despiseth not the same is vngratefull. Is it ambi­tion? It cannot be, An vngratefull man neither feareth nor oweth. because to repay that which a man oweth, is no matter of glorie, or occasion to bring it. Is it feare? The vn­gratefull man hath none, and therefore the Common-weale pre­fixeth no lawes for giuing thanks, because that nature hath sufficiently coman­ded vs, and enioyned vs to be gratefull. As also there is no law that bindeth vs to loue our parents, nor to tender and cherish children. It should be but lost la­bour to constraine vs, to doe that whereunto nature sommoneth vs of herselfe. And like as no man needeth to bee incited to selfe loue, because hee hath it by kinde: so is no man to be exhorted to follow honest things or himselfe, vertue is so pleasing and gratious of her owne nature [...] that the wickedder sort also haue a certaine instinct to approue the better. Who is hee that would not seeme to be bountifull? who is he that desireth not to be accompted good, euen when he doth most wickednesse and wrong? and when he hath most exercised his tyran­nie and crueltie, would not shadow the same vnder some surface of iustice [...], that striueth not also to make men thinke that he hath done good vnto those whom he hath most of all offended? And therefore they suffer themselues to be enter­tained at their hands, whom they haue most of all afflicted, & faine themselues to be good and liberall, because they cannot approue themselues such: which [Page 76] they would not doe, except the loue of honestie, which is to be desired for it selfe, compelled them to seeke a contrarie reputation to their corrupt manners, and to conceale and cloake their wickednesse, the fruit whereof is desired, but the thing it selfe is shamefull and odious to them: neither is there any man so farre estranged and sequestred from the law of nature, and degenerated from manhood, that would bee naught for his mindes sake only. Aske any of these Gallants that liue by rapine and spoile, if they had not rather get their goods by any honest meanes, then by robbing and stealing? Hee that inricheth him­se [...]fe by spoiling and killing passengers, will rather wish to finde those things he hath purchased, then take them by force; you shall finde no man but had ra­ther enioy th [...] fruits of his wickednesse, without performing the wickednesse it selfe: wee haue this great benefit at natures hands, that vertue permitteth each man [...] minde to bee illuminated with her beames; and they which follow her not, haue a full view of her.

CHAP. XVIII.

ANd to let thee know, that the affection of a gratefull minde is to be desired for it selfe, it is certaine that ingratitude ought to bee fled and eschewed in it selfe. Because there is nothing that so much dismembreth and dissipateth mens friendship, as this vice. For in what other thing are we secure but in this, that we are helped by mutuall offices, and interchangeable friendships? by this one and only commerce of benefits our life is not only assured, but better defended a­gainst all sodaine incursions. Single vs alone, what are we? but a pray and sacri­fice for rauenous beasts, neither is there any bloud more vile or easier to be spilt: for other beasts haue sufficient force to maintayne and defend themselues. Whatsoeuer beasts are bred to wander vp and downe, and to leade a solitarie and separated life, are armed, weaknesse girteth in and gauleth man on euery side: the force of his nailes, the sharpnesse of his teeth hath not made him ter­rible to the rest, being naked and informe: societie assureth and defenceth him. Two things hath shee giuen him, to wit, reason and societie, which make him, (although he be exposed to all other dangers) most powerfull and puissant. And thus he, that being alone and separated, was the least and feeblest to all the rest, is become the Master of all things. Societie gaue him the dominion ouer all liuing creatures, Societie whereas he was borne for the Land, hath transmitted him into a soueraigntie of an other nature, and made him Lord of the Sea like­wise. Societie hath repressed the violence of infirmities, puruaied succours and assistance for old age, and giuen comfort against sorrow. Shee it is that giueth vs forces, and animateth vs to resist fortune. Take Societie away, and thou shalt extinguish and cut off the vnitie of mankinde, whereby life is sustained. But you take it away, if you bring to passe that a thankelesse minde is not to be esteemed for it selfe: but because that hee ought to feare, least a greater mischiefe befall him. For how many vngratefull men are they, that may bee vngratefull with­out punishment. To conclude, I call him vngratefull whosoeuer is gratefull for feare.

CHAP. XIX.

NO man of sound vnderstanding hath euer feared the Gods, It is not in [...]ēded that the iust mā hath no feare of God, if [...]eare be taken for one of the seuen guifts of the holy Ghost: but this place is to be vnderstood that loue, which is not cōpatible with that loue wherewith good men loue God, but with him is a seruile [...]eare, which is not of children, but of slaues. for it is a madnesse to feare these, from whom we receiue all our good and happinesse, neither doth any man loue those whom hee fea­reth. Finally, thou Epicure, thou hast disarmed God, thou hast dispoiled him of his armes and power, and least he should be [...] by any man, thou hast turned him out of the world. Being then after this manner begirt and inuironed with a strong and impregnable wall, separa­ted and retired out of the sight, and touch of mortal men, thou oughtest to haue no feare of him, because he hath no meanes to doe either good or euill. But re­maining alone betwixt the space and distance, which is betweene one Heauen and another, abandoned of all companie of creatures and men, disfurnished of all things, hee is out of danger of the ruines of the world, which hee seeth fall aboue him, and about him, not making any reckoning of our vowes and praiers, n [...]ither hauing any care of vs. And yet such as he is, thy desire is that we should thinke that thou worshippest him, and that thou owest him as much reuerence, as thou doest to thy father. All which thou doest, in my iudgement, to this end only, that thou mighst not be accompted vngratefull: Or if thou doest it not to this end, if thou wilt not haue vs suppose that thou art thankefull, because thou thinkest that thou hast receiued no benefit at his hands, and that happily thy little Atomes and mites, which thou hast fantastically coined in thy braine, haue rashly and vnsurely formed and fashioned thee such as thou art, why doest thou worship him? It is (thou wilt answere) for the excellencie of his great Majestie, and for his wonderous nature; I put the case that this be thus, at leastwise thou doest it without hope of any good, and without any perswasion or appearance of profit. There is therefore somewhat that is to be desired for it selfe, the dig­nitie whereof inuiteth and draweth thee to loue the same, and truly, that is, ho­nestie. For what is more honest then to bee gratefull? the matter of this vertue extendeth it selfe as farre as our life.

CHAP. XX.

BVt in this good, saith he, there is some profit likewise: for in what vertue is it not? But that is said to be desired for it selfe, which al­though it haue some commodities without it selfe, is notwith­standing well pleasing and acceptable, euen when those commo­dities be remoued and taken away. It is profitable for me to bee thankefull, yet will I be thankefull although it bee to my harme: what seeketh he that is thankefull? Is it to the end that his acknowledgement may get him new friends, and more benefits? what if in so doing he should purchase other mens displeasure? if a man bee assured that hee shall gaine nothing in restoring the good which he hath receiued, but contrariwise that hee shall lo [...]e much of that he hath alreadie gotten, and hoarded vp in his cosfers; would hee willingly light vpon this los [...]e? vndoubtedly, that man is vngratefull that fixeth the eye of his desire vpon a second good turne, when hee satisfi [...]th the first, hoping to make profit of that pleasure, whereof he acquiteth himselfe. I call him vngrate­full that sitteth by a sick man, and continually attendeth by him, because he is [Page 78] to make his last will and testament, or hath so much leasure as to thinke of any inheritance or legacie. Although he doe all things which a good friend (or such a one as is mindfull of his duetie) ought to doe, if hee conceiue in himselfe any int [...]ressable hope, he layeth a snare, or as a fisherman armeth his bait, if he expect and linger after the death of the partie, and houer about his c [...]rkasse like carion crowes, which stand spying neere at hand for the fall of some cattell by the rot, he will giue an occasion for each man to thinke, that he doth but expect the death of his good friend, and doth but houer and haunt about his perso [...]. A thankefull heart conceiueth no pleasure, but in the onely vertue of his good intent.

CHAP. XXI.

WIlt thou know that this is true, and that a thankfull man is not cor­rupted by profit? there are two sorts of thankfull men. He is said to be thankfull, that maketh satisfaction in some sort for that he hath receiued. This man peraduenture may vaunt himselfe, he hath somewhat whereof to boast, and to speake of. He likewise is called thankfull, that hath receiued a benefit with a good minde, and oweth it with as good. This man hideth himselfe in his owne conscience: but what profit may he reape of an affection so deepely hidden? But that other man, al­though he wanteth meanes to do more, yet is he thankful: he loueth, he oweth, he desireth to yeeld satisfaction, what aske you more? he is not wanting to him­selfe. A workeman is a workeman, although he want his tooles to exercise his Art; and a cunning Musitian is a Musitian, although his very voice cannot be heard for muttering and noise that is made about him. I will giue thankes for the good that is done me: after this there remaineth something for me to doe, not that I may be thankfull, but really acquit of my obligation. For oftentimes hee that recompenceth is not thankefull, and contrariwise, many that doe it not, The mind and intent crowneth the action. are thankfull. For as of all other vertues, so the whole estimation of this hath re [...]erence to the minde, if she be obseruant of that which concerneth her, whatsoeuer otherwise is deficient, is the errour of Fortune. Euen as a man cea­seth not to be eloquent, although he be silent, nor strong, although his hands be bound and fettered, neither a good Pilate, although hee be vpon the firme land, because hee wanteth no perfection in his science, although there be some impediment that letteth them from vsing the same. Euen so also is hee thank­full, that hath onely a will to bee thankfull, and hath no other witnesse of his willingnesse, but himselfe. Nay I will say thus much more, sometimes euen he is thankfull, which seemeth vnthankfull, and whom misdeeming opinion tra­duceth for the contrarie. A good cōscience contemneth op­pression being e­rect and con [...]ir­med in it selfe. Wherein then reposeth this man his trust, but in his conscience, which reioyceth in it selfe, although it bee oppressed, which reclai­meth and gain-sayeth all that eloquence can vrge, or fauour detract: and repo­seth all things in her selfe? And though she seeth neuer so huge a multitude of men that reproue her intentions, she maketh no reckoning of the contrary opi­nions, but thinketh to iustifie her selfe in her owne secret iudgement. And al­beit she perceiue, that her faithfulnes beare the punishment of perfidiousnes, yet she abateth no whit of her courage, neither is abashed thereat, but standeth still aloft, aboue her punishment.

CHAP. XXII.

I Haue (saith he) that which I would, and that which I desired: I haue not as yet repented me, neither will I euer repent my s [...]lf [...] neither shall Fortune (how aduerse soeuer she be) [...] this pusillanimitie, as to make me say [...] What is that I intended? where [...] hath my good will now profited me [...] It profitteth me when I am on the rack [...]: it profitteth me being in the middest of the fire, which if it should be applied to euery member of my bodie, and by little and little should en [...]rone and deuoure the same on euery side, although my body (fraugh [...]d with a good conscience) should be put into a fl [...]ming fire, and tortured and burned therein, yet would the fire be pleasing to me, because thorow it my spotlesse [...]aith would shine and appeare. I will now once more reinforce that argument which I haue vsed in times past. Why is it, that when we die we are desirous to be gratefull? Why examine we euery particular mans deserts? Why endeuour we to refresh the memorie of all our life past, to this intent, that we might seeme to be forget­full of no mans kindnesse. At that time there remaineth nothing for hope to linger vpon, and yet standing at the pits brim, our desire is to depart this world, to euery mans satisfaction. The reason is, because the proper act of thankesgi­uing draweth with it a most great reward of it selfe, and the force of vertue is very great, to draw mens hearts vnto it, and the beautie of honestie so enuiro­neth and surpriseth mens mindes, that it rauisheth them with the admiration of the light and brightnesse thereof, yea many commodities ensue thereby. For the life of such as are honest is more secured and innocent; which is accompani­ed with a thankefull soule, and out of feare. Nature had dealt vniustly with v [...], if she had made vs partakers of so great a benefit, with miserie, danger, and vncer­taintie. But, Innocence in dā ­ger is confident, in prosperitie milde, in all en­counters happy. consider I pray you, although thou mightest easily, and without danger attaine very often to this vertue by an assured and easie way, whether thou couldest not find in thy heart to make thy way thereunto, by vnaccessible rockes, through stony wayes, full of Serpents and sauage beasts.

CHAP. XXIII.

YEt ought we not to say, that a thing should not be desired for the loue of it selfe, because it is accompanied with some forraine pro­fit that attendeth it. For wee see almost daily, that the fairest things are accompanied with accessary endowments, but yet so as they draw these commodities after them, and they them­selues goe before. May it be doubted, but that the course and circular motion of Sunne and Moone, doe temperate this dwelling place of mankind by their diuers changes? Or that by the heate of the Sunne, all bodies are cherished, the earth is relaxed and opened, superfluous moistures abated, and the irkesomenes of Winter that bindeth all things allayed, or that by the effectuall and piercing warmth of the Moone the ripening fruits are moistened? Or that the fruitful­nes of man is answerable and correspondent to her course: or that the Sunne by his proper motion maketh the yeare discerneable and the Moone by her cir­cumuolution in shorter space maketh the month. But admit you take these ver­tues from the Moone, were not the Sunne of it selfe worthy to bee beheld and [Page 80] admired in our sight, though he did but swiftly passe before our eyes. Were not the Moone to be admired by vs, although shee ranne by vs but as an idle Star? When the heauen by night time darteth out his lights, when we behold such an infinity of Starres shine vpon vs, Admiration of these things ac­companied with deuotion, what admirable [...]ffects w [...]rke they in the Soule? who is hee that is not rauished to behold them? Who is he that seeing himselfe to be surprised by so great a wonder, hath leisure at that time to thinke on the good and profit that they bring? Behold, those Starres that glide aloft in the still firmament, after what sort hide they their swiftnesse, vnder an appearance of a standing and immooueable worke? How much is done this night, which thou obseruest onely for a reckoning and difference from the dayes? What a troope of things are vnfolded vnder this si­lence? What an order of destinies doth this certaine bound bring forth? These things which thou beholdest no otherwise, but as matters dispersed for beauti­fying, are euery one of them occupied in working. For thou canst not imagine that the seuen Planets onely haue their designed motions, and the rest stand fixed, will comprehend the motion of very fewe. But there is an infinite num­ber of A Stoicall er­ror, who ascribe Deitie to the Starres. gods, which are farre seuered and withdrawen from our sight, which both goe and come. And of those which are subiect to our sight there are di­uers, that haue obscure motions and hidden courses. What then shouldest thou not bee strooken with admiration to behold so huge a worke, yea though it ruled thee not, preserued thee not, cherished thee not, ingendered thee not by his winds, and moystned thee not by the ayre?

CHAP. XXIIII.

NOw, euen as these things, although they haue their first and prin­cipall vses, and are both necessarie and profitable for our life yet it is the maiesti [...] of them that occupieth the whole minde. Euen so all vertue (and especially the vertue of gratefulnesse) yeeldeth very much profit, yet will it not be loued for the same; for it hath yet a further thing in it, neither is it sufficiently vnderstood by him, which ac­counteth it amongst gainefull things. Is a man thankfull because it concerneth his owne profit? Ergo, also he is thankefull, but for so much as implieth his pro­fit. Vertue entertaineth not a couetous and base minded Louer, shee will bee courted with open hands and a liberall heart. The vngratefull man thinketh thus: I would faine requite the curtesie I haue receiued, but I feare the charge and ex­pence, I feare the perill, I am affraide of displeasure, I will rather doe that which is more profitable and secure for me. One and the same cause and reason, cannot make a man thankefull, and vngratefull: as their actions are diuers, so their intentions are different. The one is vngratefull although it behoueth him not, because it is for his profit, the other is gratefull although it bee against his profit, because he ought so to be.

CHAP. XXV.

WEe are resolued to liue conformable and agreeable to nature, and to follow the example of the gods. But in all that whatsoeuer the gods doe, they follow nothing else, but the reason of doing that they doe, except hapily thou imaginest, that they receiue the fruit of their labours out of the smoake of i [...]railes, and the [Page 81] odour of the incense which is consumed in their sacrifices. Consider how great things they atchiue and compasse daily, with what aboundant fruites they re­plenish the earth, with how seasonable and fauourable winds (fitly seruing to conuey vs into all forraine Coasts) turne they and mooue they the Seas, with how many and sudd [...]n showers mollifie they and moysten they the earth, and replenish the dried vaines and fountaines, and renew them by infusing nutri­ment, by the hidden and secret Spring-heads. All these things doe they with­out any recompence, and without any profit that may accrue vnto them. This example also ought our reason to obserue (if it disagree not from this patterne and president) lest it follow honest things, as if hired and engaged. Let vs be a­shamed to sell the least courtesie that we do. The Gods expect no recompence for that they doe. If thou wilt imitate the Gods (saith hee) thou must pleasure euen those that are vnthankfull: for the Sunne riseth vpon the wicked, and Pi­rats haue the sea open vnto them.

CHAP. XXVI.

IN this place they demand whether a good man may imploy his benefits on an vnthankfull man, knowing him to be such a one? Giue me leaue to speake somewhat by the way, lest I be entang­led with a doubtfull question. There are, according to the opini­on of the Stoicks, What a burthen hath iniquitie on his backe? two sorts of vngratefull men. The one vngrate­full, because he is a foole, and wanteth iudgement; but he that is a foole, is con­sequently euill, and an euill man is replenished with all kinds of vices, and there­fore is vngratefull. In like manner wee terme euill men intemperate and disso­lute, couetous, prodigall, and malicious, not that these great and notorious vi­ces are incident to euery euill man, but because they may be, and are in them, though vndiscouered. The other is vngratefull, which in all mens iudgement and voices is termed so; and for that by nature he is prone and inclined thereun­to. To that vngratefull man, that so is not free from this vice, as he is free from no vice, a good man may doe a courtesie and kindnesse: for should he but reiect those of this condition, he should doe good vnto no man? But vnto this vngrate­full man, which is a defrauder of benefits, who naturally hath his heart addicted to ingratitude, he shall no more giue a benefit, then to trust his money to a ban­querout, or leaue a pledge in his hands, who hath heretofore defrauded many others of their right. We call him coward who is a foole; for this followeth those wicked persons, The description of a Coward. who are indifferently seazed of all kinds of vices: but pro­perly we account and call him a coward, who naturally is affrighted with the the least trifling noice he heareth. So a foole hath all vices, but is not naturally wicked vnto all: one is subiect to auarice, the other to prodigalitie and outrage­ous expences, the other to shamelesse petulancie and wantonnesse.

CHAP. XXVII.

THey then are deceiued, who question with the Stoickes after this manner. For he was cal­led Aristides Iustus. What then, is Achilles a coward? What then, is A­ristides (to whom Iustice gaue his name) vniust? What then, is Fabius (who by cunctations and delay, restored his decaying Common-weale) rash? What then, feareth Decius death? is [Page 82] Mutius a traytor? is Camillus a forsaken? Noe, we intend no such matter; nei­ther say we that all sorts of vices are so inseparably vnited in all men, as in some there are particular faults, and they more eminent. But this we say, that a foo­lish and wicked man is subiect and enclined to all vices, in so much as we acquit not the bold man of feare, nor discharge the prodigall man of niggardize. Euen as man is naturally endowed with all his fiue senses, An apt simili­tude. and yet all men are not so quick-sighted as Linceus: so he that is a foole hath not all vices, so vehement and disordinate as some of them, haue some vices. All vices are in all men; yet are not all of them eminent in euery man. Nature impelleth one man vnto coue­tousnesse, this man to lust, that man she addicteth to wine, or if not as yet addi­cted, yet is he so formed, that his disposition draweth him thereunto. For this cause (that I may returne vnto my purpose) I say that there is no man that is not stained with ingratitude, and that is euill: for hee hath all the seeds of wic­kednesse in him, yet properly he is called vngratefull, who is more inclined to that vice. On such a one therefore will I bestow no benefit. For like as hee hath very little care of his daughter, that marieth her to a contumelious and often-di­uorced husband: and as hee is esteemed an ill husband and housholder, who preferreth to the stewardship of his house, and gouernment of his patrimony to one alreadie condemned for ill managing his masters businesse. And as he com­mitteth a great folly, and maketh a mad will, that leaueth such a one Tutor and gouernour of his heire, that hath beene a spoiler, an ouerthrow of innocent Or­phelins. So shall hee be reputed to bestow his courtesies very inconsiderately, who maketh his choice of vngratefull men, on whom hee may bestow that which is sure will be lost.

CHAP. XXVIII.

THe Gods also (saith he) giue many things to vngratefull men: but these, had they prepared for the good, yet befall they the euill also, because they cannot be separated. And more reason is it to profit the euill for the goods sake, then to abandon the good for the euils sake. So those things thou speakest of the day, the Sun, the entercourse of Winter and Sommer, the temperate sweetenes of the Spring and Autumne, the raines, the water-springs, and the ordinarie blasts of windes, were deuised by the Gods for all men in generall, they could not seuer and se­parate them, onely for those they intended good to. The King giueth honors to those that are worthie, but he oftentimes yeelde [...]h publike larges, and pre­sents of victuals to those that deserue it not. The theefe, the periured man, the adulterer (prouided alwayes that he be a Citizen) receiued the publike larges of wheat, which is monthly giuen to the people of Rome, without respect of his manners, when there is any thing that is to be bestowed simply, as vpon a Cour­tizen, and not vpon a good Citizen, both the good and bad receiue the same indifferently. God likewise hath giuen some things in generall to all mankind, from whence no man is excluded. For it could not be, that the windes should be fauourable to the good, and contrary to the wicked. It was the good and pro­fit of all nations, that the seas were open and nauigable, for the good of the mer­chants traffique, and to extend the Kingdome of mankind. Neither could there a law be prefixed to the raine, that it should not as well water and ouerflow the lands of the wicked and vniust. There are certaine things which are common, [Page 83] both to the one, and to the other. Cities are built, as well to entertaine the good, as the euill: the monuments of learned mens wits are published and vented a­broad, to be read as well to the reprobate, as the vertuous. Medicine ministreth helpe euen to the most debauched. No man euer concealed the composition of wholesome medicines, for feare lest the vnworthie should bee healed. Seeke thou a strict account and valuation of persons, in those things which are giuen seuerally vnto a man, as a man worthie, and not in these things which confused­ly admit the common sort. For there is a great difference betwixt chusing a man, and not repulsing him. The law is open to all men, the murtherers them­selues enuie the peace, and they which haue stolne another mans goods, reco­uer their owne. Such as are quarrellers, and readie to strike any man in time of peace, are defended from the enemie with a wall in time of warre. Those that haue most oftentimes offended the lawes, are maintained and conserued with all assurance, vnder the authoritie thereof. In briefe there are some, though of that nature, that they could not be applied to some persons in particular, ex­cept they were granted vnto all in common. There is no cause therefore, why thou shouldest dispute of these things, whereunto we are publikely induced. That which in my choice and iudgement I would giue to any vertuous man, I will carefully prouide that I cast it not away on such a one, whom I know to be vngratefull.

CHAP. XXIX.

WIlt thou not then (saith hee) giue counsell to an vngratefull man, who would take thine aduice in his affaires: nor permit him to draw water out of thy fountaines: nor shew him the way if he be out of it? or wouldest thou doe these things for an vngratefull man, yet refuse him afterwards all other sorts of good? I will distinguish in this point, or at least-wise I will end [...]uour to distinguish the same. A benefit is a pro­fitable worke, T [...] difference betweene a pro­fitable worke and a benefit. but euery profitable worke is not a benefit. For some things are of so small moment, that they deserue not the name of a benefit. Two things must concurre in making of a benefit. First, the greatnesse of the thing, for some things there are, that vndergoe the measure of this name: who euer accounted it a benefit, to haue giuen a shiue of bread, or a peece of bare money, or to haue permitted a neighbour to enter and kindle fire in his house [...] And yet sometimes these things do a man more pleasure then farre greater: but the b [...]senes of them diminisheth their reputation, euen then, when the necessiti [...] of the time ma­keth them needfull. Againe, we ought to consider that which is principall and of greatest force: which is first of all, that I do it for loue of that person, to whom I would giue my benefit, and whom I account worthy to rec [...]iue the same. Fi­nally, that I doe it with a good will [...] and that I feel [...] in my selfe a great ioy and pleasure that I doe it. Of which points there are none at all in these things that we speake of; for we bestow them not as vpon worthy men, but carelessely as small things, and we giue it not vnto the man, but vnto humanitie.

[...]
[...]

CHAP. XXX.

I Denie not but that sometimes I may bestow some things on those that are vnworthy for other mens sakes. As oft-times in the pur­suit of honours and dignities, the ancient Nobilitie of houses hath beene the cause, that those men were preferred, who were vnprofi­table, and of base estimation, before those that were learned and of good spirits. Honour enkind­ [...]th good spirits, and maketh la­bour pleasing. Not without cause is the memorie of great vertues sacred; and many men affect goodnesse with greater delight, when they perceiue that the honor of good men dieth not with them. What merit made Ciceroes sonne Con­sull, but the memorie of his father? What thing is it that caused Cinna of late (returning from the Enemies campe) to be honored with the Consulship? why was Sextus Pompey, This Sextus Pompey was the Sonne of Sextus Pom­peius, who was Consul the yeare 1218. and the rest, that haue borne the name of the Pompeis, pre­ferred in the like maner, but for the excellencie and vertue of one onely man, whose greatnesse was so great, that his ruine & death could raise so many of his posteritie, to so worthie estimation? What made Fabius Persicus lately (that was so hateful in the most abi [...]ctest mens eies, that they disdayn'd to kisse him) attain vnto the Priesthood of so many Colledges, but only the same of the Verrucosians and Allobrogicks, These were of the Fabian Familie. & of those three hundred, that opposed one familie against the intrusion of their enemies in their Countries defence? So much ar [...] we indebted vnto vertues, that we ought to respect them, not only while they be present, but also when they are most distant & out of sight. Euen as those vertues wrought this effect, that they profited not only one age, but left their benefits behinde them to all ages: so let vs not be gratefull to one age only. This man hath be­gotten noble children, he is then worthy of good turnes whatsoeuer he himselfe is, because he hath brought forth such. Another is borne of noble Ancestors, whatsoeuer he himselfe is, let him be shrouded vnder the shadow of his Ance­stors. Like as obscure and vncleane places are lightned by the repercussion of the Sunne-beames, It is some part of happinesse to be borne of good parents. so let idle and vnworthy men bee illustrated by the light of their forefathers.

CHAP. XXXI.

IN this place, my Liberalis, I intend to excuse the goddes. For som­times we are wont to say, Wherat aymed the prouidence of the goddes, when they committed the gouernement of a Kingdome to Alexanders Brother. Aridaeus handes? Thinkest thou it was giuen him? It be­fell him for his fathers and his brothers sake. Why gaue shee the Empire of the whole world to Caius Caligula, a man so insatiate of mans bloud, that he commanded the same to bee shed before his eies, as if hee had a desire to drinke and deuoure it with his mouth? What, thinkest thou, that this greatnesse was giuen him for his owne merit? No, it was giuen to his father Germanicus; it was for his grand-fathers, and great grand-fathers sake, and to o­thers no lesse famous men their pred [...]cessors, although they led a priuate and ordinary life. What, when thou madest Scaurus Mamercus Consull, didst thou not know, that he receiued with open mouth the monthly excrements of his vnchaste chamber-maids? For did he dissemble? Would he seeme to be pure? I will relate vnto thee a speech of his owne, which was ordinarie in euery mans [Page 85] mouth in my remembrance, and was commended in his owne presence: Asini­us Pollio being on a time laid vpon his bed [...]he said vnto him (but with wordes vnworthy to be named) that he would do that vnto him, which he had rather suffer himselfe. And seeing that Pollio was displeased therewith, and that hee began to [...]nd his browes. If I [...] spoken any euill (s [...]id he) I [...] vpon me and on my head. This speech is obiected, not to Liberalis, but to prouidence. This saying of his [...]e himselfe bla [...]ed [...] thou admitted a man so openly shamelesse & im [...]udent to the Mac [...] [...] ­bunal of Consuls? Verily when thou b [...]though [...] thee of that old [...], the Prince or prime man of the S [...]nate in times pa [...]s [...]hou could [...] not suffer his race and posteri [...]ie to be ab [...]sed or extinguished.

CHAP. XXXII.

EAsie it is for vs to percol [...]e how the godd [...]s deal [...] more [...]auour [...] ­bly with some for the merits and deserts of their fat [...]r [...], and pre­decessors, and with other some for the towardnesse that shall be in their children, and childrens children [...] and in those that here­after shall descend from their post [...]ritie. For they know the suc­cessiue order of their workes, and they hau [...] an infallible science of all those things which are to passe thorow their hands, although they are f [...]rre remo [...] from our knowledge and vnderstanding. All these reasons he vrgeth in the person of God. The things that we suppose to be ca­suall and sudden, are foreseene and familiar to them. Le [...] these be Kings (s [...]y they) because their ancestors haue not beene, but imagined it to be a true King­dome, to be iust and abstinent. And because they haue not vsed the common-weale for their profits, but dedicated their persons to the seruice and increase thereof. Let these men raigne because some good man was their great grand­father, whose mind was greater then his fortune, who in ciuill discentions chose rather to be vanquished, then to vanquish; because it stood with the profit of the Common-wealth. His goodnesse could not be requited all this whil [...] In respect of that man, let this man haue pr [...]h [...]minence ouer others, no [...] because [...]e is of knowledge and ability how to vse it, but because the other hath deserued [...]t for him: for peraduenture this man is in body mis [...]apen, in count [...]ance lo [...]th­som, and will be a slander to the place and persons of his aduancement. From hence, to the end of the Chapter all is disioynted. Now will men finde fault with me, and say, that I am blinde, and rash, and ignorant where to bestow the things that are due to the chiefest and excellentest persons. But I know that the giuing of this thing to the one, is a satisfaction of it to the o­ther, to whom it was due long since. Whereby doe they knowe such a certaine man, who was such a contemner of glorie, when it followed him, that he a [...] ­uentured vpon perill with the same countenance that others escape it, and th [...]t neuer made difference betwixt his owne profite and the profite of the Com­mon-wealth? Where is this man? who is he? how know you him? Th [...]se [...] ­konings of such receipts and payments are striken out of my bookes [...] I know what and to whom I owe. To some I make payment after long time, to other some I giue aforehand, or else I deale with them according as occasion and the vtility of my common-wealth requireth.

CHAP. XXXIII.

SOme things I will then giue to an vngratefull man, yet will I not giue it for his owne sake. But if (saith he) thou knowest not whether he be thankefull or vngratefull; wilt thou expect vntill thou know the same? or wilt thou not lose the opportunity of giuing the benefite? It is too long to expect: for (as Plato saith) it is hard to coniecture what a mans mind is, and not to exspect is rashnesse. To him we will answere, that we will neuer expect a certaine comprehension and knowledge of things, because it is a difficult matter to finde out the truth; but that we follow that way whereunto the similitude of truth leadeth vs. All mens offices and actions proceed this way; vnder this hope we sow our lands: thus [...]aile we, thus vndertake we war, thus marrie we, thus bring we vp our children; wheras the euent of all these is vncertaine. To those things addresse we our en­terprises, whereof we beleeue that we may hope the best. For who can warrant a rich haruest to him that soweth, a safe Port to him that saileth, victory to him that warreth, a modest wife to him that marrieth, toward children to him that begat them? We follow those things whereunto reason induceth vs, not those whereunto truth draweth vs. If thou expectest to do nothing except thou be secured of the good successe, if thou lingerest vntill such time as thou hast found out the truth, thy life will become vnprofitable and idle, neyther shalt thou e­uer dare or attempt any thing: whilst the appearance of truth impelleth me to doe this or that, I will not feare to giue a benefite to him, who in my opinion and in all likelyhood, will approue himselfe thankefull.

CHAP. XXXIIII.

MAnie things may chance (saith he) wherby we may take a bad man to be good, a good man to be bad, because the appearances of things wherunto we giue credite do oftentimes deceiue vs. Who denieth this? But I find nothing else, by which I should gouerne my thoughts. By these foot-steps must I pursue the truth; more assured I haue none. This will I endeauo [...]r to examine with all diligence, ney­ther will I assent vnto them ouer quickly. For so may it fall out in warre, that being deceiued by some false appearance, I may aime mine arrow against my fellow Souldier, leauing mine enemie vntouched and in safetie, but this both seldom times falleth out, and not by mine error: whose purpose was to wound mine enemie, and defend my fellow Citizen. If I know him to be vngratefull I will giue him no benefit. But he cosened me, he deceiued me; here is no fault of him that giueth, for I gaue it as to a thankefull man. But if (saith hee) thou hast promised to doe a man a pleasure, and afterwards thou findest him to bee vngratefull, wilt thou giue it or no? if thou doest it thou offendest willingly, for thou giuest to him, thou oughtest not to giue: if thou deniest, in this case like­wise thou offendest, because thou performest not that which thou hast firmely promised. Sapientis est mutare consiliū. Your sect in this place staggereth and trippeth, and that proud pro­mise of theirs, that a wise man neuer repenteth himselfe of that which hee hath done; neither euer reformeth his actions, nor changeth his counsaile, begin­neth to be shaken. A wiseman changeth not his counsaile, as long as the cause [Page 87] and circumstances continue the same, as they were when he determined. And therefore neuer repenteth he himselfe in any thing, because nothing could bee better done at that time then was done, nor nothing better ordered then that which was ordered. Finally, all things hee vndertaketh, he attempteth them with this condition, if nothing fall out that may interrupt his sage designe [...]. And therefore say we, that all things befall him to his wish, that nothing hath be [...]ed him contrarie to his expectation, because he presumeth in his minde, that sun­drie things may fall out which may crosse his purpose. Fooles are they, that are too confident, and who promise vnto themselues ouer peremptorily, that Fortune will fauour them, but a wise man considereth her both waye [...] hee know [...]th very well what sway error beareth, how vncertaine worldly things be, and how many things hinder mens determinations: he followeth variable Fortune, and the hazards of humane affaires, with an vncertaine and doubtfull hope, expecting with assured counsaile the vncertaine ends therof. But the con­ditions, without which he beginneth and enterpriseth nothing, warrantise him sufficiently herein.

CHAP. XXXV.

I Haue promised to doe a pleasure, except there fall out some oc­casion wherby I am letted from giuing that I intended [...] but what if the Common-weale command me to giue that vnto her which I haue promised my friend, if a publique law bee made that no man shall do that which I haue promised my friend to performe. I haue past my word to giue thee my Daughter in marriage, and afterwards thou art conuicted to be a forrainer, with whom wee are forbidden to contract matrimonie. The law that prohibiteth, that, defendeth also my cause: then shall I breake my word, then shall I bee iustly taxed with inconstancie; if all the circumstances continuing as they were when I promised, I neglect to performe the same: Because otherwise whatsoeuer thing is changed, giueth me libertie to determine anew, and dischargeth mee of my former obligation. I haue pro­mised to pleade thy cause, and afterwards I finde that the prosecution ther [...]of will in the end redound to my fathers preiudice. The law of bountie is limi­ted by circum­stances. I haue promised thee to take [...] long iourney with thee, but afterwards vpon better instructions, I vnderstand that the way is dangerous and full of thiefes, I intended presently to come and visit thee about thine instant businesse, but my childs sicknesse, or my wifes fal­ling in labour, kept me at home. All things ought to be in the same estate, they were, when I promised thee, if thou wilt that my faith bee obliged vnto thee. But what greater change may there happen then if hereafter I am infor­med that thou art an vngratefull and wicked man? That which I gaue thee, as to a worthy man, I will refuse thee as a man vnworthy, and further more I shall haue a iust cause to be angrie with thee, because thou hast deceiued me.

CHAP. XXXVI.

YEt will I nearely examine the greatnesse of that I haue promi­sed. The valew of the thing, which I haue promised to bestow, shall giue mee counsaile. If it be a small matter, I will giue it; not because hee is worthy, but because I haue promised. Neither will I giue it as a benefit, but only to redeeme my word, and hereaf­ter will I take better heede, and by my losse I will chastise my rashnesse in pro­mising; and to the end I may haue a more feeling and sensible apprehension of the same, and henceforward be more circumspect in that I speake, I will, (as the common prouerbe saith) pay a fine for my tongue. But if it be a thing of grea­ter price, I would not, (as Mece [...]as saith) spend two hundreth and fiftie thou­sand crownes, to buy mine owne blame: I will diligently compare both these things betweene themselues. It is something to keepe a mans word when hee hath promised, and againe it importeth very much to take care that wee giue to such a one as deserueth the same: yet must we cōsider how great our promise is: If it be a thing of small valew, I will giue it as though I winked thereat. But if it may be either greatly to my losse, or greatly to my shame. I had rather ex­cuse my selfe once for not doing it, then condemne my selfe alwaies for giuing it. In briefe, all the waight of the matter consisteth (as I say) in this to know of what valew and estimate the promise is that I haue made. For I will not only re­taine that which I haue rashly promised, but I will redemand also that which I haue giuen amisse. He is out of his wits, that binds his faith for an error.

CHAP. XXXVII.

PHILIP of Macedon had a valiant and braue Souldier, who had faithfully serued him in all his warres, to whom in remuneration of his vertue, he had often-times giuen a good part of that which he had taken from the enemie, & incouraged him with rewards, he being a man of a mercinarie minde. It fortuned that this Soul­dier was shipwrackt and cast away at Sea, and that the tempest and billowes cast him on the shoare neare to a certaine Macedonians dwelling place, who being ad­uertised of this his fortune, ranne vnto him, and recouered him to life, being well-nigh dead. He caried him vnto his owne house, he lodged him in his owne bedde: he entertained this forlorne man so carefully and kindly, that hee reco­uered his forces, he maintayned him thirtie dayes at his owne charge, hee relie­ued his necessitie, and gaue him monie and meanes to bring him back againe to the armie. This Souldier, vpon his departure, told him this very often; If I euer chance to see my Prince againe, I will requite this thy kinde entertainement. Cer­taine dayes after being arriued at the campe, hee failed not to tell Philip of his vnhappie shipwrack, but he concealed who had succoured him, and forthw [...]h besought him to giue him a certaine mans lands, and this was his heritage who had so graciously entertained him, and with so much care and diligence had preserued him from death. You may see (by the way) how Kings now and then, (but especially in warre) giue many things, their eyes being shut: no one [Page 89] man alone is able to satisfie so many armed desires; there is not any man that at one time can be a good man, and a good Generall. How shall so many thou­sands of vnsatiable men bee satisfied? what shall they haue if euery man may keepe his owne? This said Philip to himselfe, when he commanded him to bee put in possession of those Lands he demanded. This man thus violently thrust out of his possessions, smothered and smoohed vp this iniurie, not as a Clowne, but with much silence & sufferance, contenting himselfe with this; that though they had vsurped his possessions, they had not restrained him of his libertie, and priuily wrote a short and stout letter vnto Philip, A lesson for Princes that are o [...]tentimes thus deluded and blinded. wherein he discouered the iniury which was done him, vpon the reading whereof, Philip was so displeased, that he presently commanded Pausanias to restore the land to the former Lord, and as for the other reprobate and dishonest Souldier, vngratefull guest, and co­uetous cast-away, to brand him in the forehead, to witnesse that hee was an vn­gratefull and vnthankefull guest. Truly, he was worthy, not that these letters should be written, but engrauen on his forehead, that expulsed and exposed his Host, like to a naked and shipwrackt-wretch, on that very shore, where once he had succoured him. We shall afterwards see what more greater punishment he deserued: meane while those goods were to be taken from him, which hee had so iniuriously vsurped. The reason why this vngratefull man was to be punished. And who would be moued at his punishment, who had committed such a hainous crime, that might be the cause, that no man hereafter would count miserable the miserie of the most miserable?

CHAP. XXXVIII.

SHal Philip be cōstrained to performe his word vnto thee, because he hath promised thee, although he ought not to do that, though he iniury another man, though he cōmit a hainous crime, although by this one act of his, he locketh vp the hauens, and shutteth vp theports against those that are shipwrackt? It is no point either of lightnesse or inconstancie, for a man to forsake a knowne and condemned er­rour. And a man ought ingeniously to confesse and say, I thought otherwise, I am deceiued. But this is a perseuerance in an arrogant foolishnesse to say, That which I haue spoken once, whatsoeuer it bee, I will abide by it, and make good my word. It is no shame to change a mans opinion, when the businesse is chan­ged. Go to, if Philip had left him in possession of these demeasnes, and that sea-coast which he had gotten by his shipwracke, had he not barred all misera­ble men from reliefe? It is better (saith he) that thou shouldest carry throughout my kingdome these letters ingrauen in thy most shamelesse forehead, more worthy to be written in thine eyes. Shew thou in thy punishment, how sacred a thing the table of hospitalitie is. Let all the world reade this my law, enregi­stred in thy countenance, by which is decreed, that it is no capitall matter, to entertaine any miserable person into a mans house. So shall this constitu­tion of mine bee more strongly ratified, then if I had engrauen the same in brasse.

CHAP. XXXIX.

WHy then (saith he) did your Zeno, when he had promised a certain man to lend him fiue hundred pence, and had found him to bee insufficient, and not able to repay him, contrary to the aduice of his friends, who coūselled him not to do it, perseuered in trusting him, because he had promised him? First there is one condition in a debt, another in a benefit. If I haue lent my money to an euill debter, yet haue I meanes to recouer it againe: I may call any debter into iustice, when the terme of payment is come, and if he break or play the banquerupt, I shal haue a portion of my debt, but the benefit is wholly lost instātly. Moreouer, this is the act of an euil man, that of a bad husband. Again, neither would Zeno haue perse­uered to credit him, if the summe had bin greater, it was but fiue hūdred pence; put case (as it is commonly said) that he had spent it in a sicknes, was it so much worth not to reuoke his promise. I will come to supper (although it bee cold) because I haue promised, but if it snowed or were bad weather, I would not step out of my doores. I will arise out of my bed to accompany a Bridall, because I haue promised (although I haue not sufficiently slept or disgested my meat) but not at all, if a fauor surprise me. I will come and giue my word for thee, because I haue promised, but not if thou wouldest make me stand bound for an vncertain thing, or if thou wilt bind me to the Exchequer. I tell thee there is alwayes a secret condition implied; so I be able [...] so it bee lawfull. If thou wilt haue mee keepe my promise, set the matter in the same state, that it was in when thou de­mandedst, that it was in when I promised. It can be no point of lightnesse to dis­appoint one, The condition of the Prince may alter the Counsell. if there happen any alteration by the way: why wonderest thou if I change my counsell, when the conditions of my promise are changed? I am readie at this time to be the same I was then, if thou shew me all things in that estate I left them: wee promise to make appearance for my friend, yet is it not performed. For if there be any one that is hindered by force, or by a lawfull cause he is excused by essoyne.

CHAP. XL.

THe same also will serue for an answere to this demand; whether a courtesie is to be requited in any wise, or whether a benefit bee euery way to be restored? I am bound to yeeld a thankfull heart, but sometimes mine infelicitie suffereth me not to make requi­tall; and sometimes his felicitie, to whom I am indebted: for what can I, being poore, restore to a King or a rich man? whereas some suppose it to be an iniurie to receiue a benefit, and benefits doe alwayes burthen the receiuer with other benefits. What other satisfaction can I make vnto such a person, then to be willing to acknowledge their goodnesse. For I ought not to reiect his new benefit, because I haue not satisfied for the former, I wil receiue as willing­ly as it is giuen me: I will offer my selfe vnto my friend as a sufficient matter, to exercise vpon me all his good thoughts, and liberalitie. He that will not receiue new courtesies, is offended with the old. I, but I render not the like: what is that to the purpose? the delay is not in me, if either occasion faile, or abilitie be wanting: when he did me a pleasure, he had the meanes and the commoditie. [Page 91] He that hath done it, is either a good or an euill man; if he be a good man, my case and cause is good enough; if hee bee an euill man, I will not pleade before him: neither thinke. I it meete also to be ouer hastie in yeelding recompence, contrary to the mindes of those who haue done vs pleasure, or that we impor­tune them to receiue, when they are vnwilling to take it. It is no requitall of a good turne, to render that which thou hast willingly receiued, to him that is vnwilling to accept the same. There are some, who if a friend send them some little present, doe suddenly after requite them with another, to the end they may vaunt they are not any wayes obliged. Ha [...]tie returne of fauour is ra­ther a defacing of a benefit, then a satisfaction. This is a kinde of refusall, when a man will make requitall so soone, and by this meanes deface so suddenly one present by another. Sometimes also I will not restore a benefit, when I am able; namely, when I shall detract more from my selfe, and doe my selfe, more hinde­rance, then I shall profit him; when as he shall feele himselfe nothing a­mended by receiuing it, and I shall finde my selfe greatly im­paired by forgoing it. He then that hasteth to restore and requite a kindnesse, hath not the minde of a gratefull man, but of a debter. And to con­clude in few words, he that is desirous to pay ouer soone, doth owe vn­willingly; hee that vnwil­lingly oweth, is vngratefull.

The end of the fourth Booke.

LVCIVS ANNAEVS SENECA Of Benefits. THE FIFT BOOKE.

The Argument of IVSTVS LIPSIVS.

THe two speciall parts being concluded and determined. How a benefit should be giuen, and how it ought to be receiued. He saith that he passeth ouer to certaine things, that are not so much in the matter as of the matter, and both neare and vnited to the same. Then annexeth hee certaine questions, and first of all this. Whether it be a loathsome matter to bee ouer-come in benefits? He denyeth that he may be o [...]er-come, and approueth him to be alwaies equall, that is desirous to make recompence in good will, if in act he cannot. The second question is: Whether any man may giue himselfe a benefit? He denyeth it, yet argueth the matter on both sides. The third question he vseth is, Whether any man ac­cording to the Stoicks doctrine may be called vngratefull? hee affirmeth and teacheth it. His fourth question is, Whether all are vngratefull? he saith no; although he confesse many. Then as depending of the said question: How farre and whither we are bound one for an other, as the Sonne for the Father, and such like? He answereth by a distin­ction, and rather denyeth. The fift question is, Whether an vnpleasing benefit may bee giuen to a man vnwilling to receiue? It may. The last question, Whether a benefit may bee redemanded?

IN these my former bookes, me thought, I had consummated and accomplished my principall intent, when as I had intreated and discouered, after what manner a good turne is to bee done, and in what sort it is to be receiued, because these two points are the Poles, on which the Sphere of this discourse is moued. Whatsoeuer I intreat of, or linger on further, is not of the necessitie of the matter, neither much impertinent therunto, which wee ought to follow, not only whither it leadeth vs, but also whither it inuiteth vs. For continually there will some arguments arise, that will allure and entertaine our minde with the sweetnesse thereof, which is rather not necessarie then superflu­ous. But since you will haue it so, hauing ended all that which appertayned to [Page 93] the matter, let vs p [...]rseuer to search out these things, tha [...] ar [...] annexed vnto it, but not coherent, which whosoeuer doth curiously looke into, neither perfor­meth a matter of great moment, An extraordi­narie commen­dation of AEbu­tius Liberalis. neither looseth his labour. But vnto thee (my AEbutius Liberalis) who art a man of the best nature, and so inclined to curtesie, no praise of th [...]se benefits may suffice [...] I n [...]uer saw any man so fauou­rable an esteemer of the smallest good offices, as thou art [...] And thy bountie hath alreadie attayned so farre, that thou esteemest the curtesie done vnto thy selfe, which is imploied on any other man. Thou art alwaies readie to giue sa­tisfaction for the vngratefull, least any man should repent him of his bountie and kindnesse: and so farre art thou from all arrogancie and ostentation, so desi­rous art thou to disburthen those whom thou hast obliged, that whatsoeuer thou bestowest on any man, thou wouldest not seeme to haue giuen it as a be­nefit, but to haue repaied it as a debt. Bountie is re­doubled to t [...]e worthy benef [...] ­ctor. And therefore, such things as thou be­stowest after this manner, returne vnto thee more plentifully. For commonly good turnes attend vpon him, that intendeth not to redemand them. And as glorie and reputation, doe most of all fasten vpon, and follow those who flie from the same; so the fruit of benefits is more graciously correspondent vnto those as giue men leaue to be thankelesse, if they list. It shall not bee through thy default, This is intended as a debt, not as a gui [...]t. but that they who haue receiued benefits at thy hands, may freely redemand the other, neither [...] wilt thou refuse the former, which are either sup­pressed or dissembled by thee. The intent of a generous man, and such a one as hath a noble minde, is so long to forbeare, and winke at an vngratefull per­son, vntill he hath made him thankefull: neither will this manner of dealing de­ceiue thee euer; for naturally vices submit themselues vnto vertue, and loose their courage, if thou hasten not too much to hate them.

CHAP. II.

THou conceiuest likewise a singular pleasure, to heare this magnifi­cent saying, that it is a shame to be ouer-come in giuing benefits, which whether it bee true or no, it is wont to bee enquired vpon a good ground, and I thinke it farre different from that which thou ima­ginest. For neuer neede [...]t thou to feare any affront or dishonour in suffering thy selfe to be ouer-come in the noble competencie of vertuous a­ctions, if so be thou forsake not thine armes, but being once ouer-come hast a will to ouer-come againe. Euery man in a good purpose hath not the same for­ces, the same faculties, and the same fortune: which only t [...]mperateth the ends of the best actions. The will of him that keepeth the right way, deserueth to be praised, although a more swifter runner hath set foote before him. It is not in this case as it is in the publique prizes, set out for spectacle, wherein the vi­ctorie proclaimeth the better man; although in them also casualtie hath often preserued the worst. When we speake of dutie, and both the one and the other desire to acquit themselues fully; if the one of them hath had more meanes [...] if hee haue had matter at hand correspondent to his minde, if fortune hath per­mitted him to doe what him listeth: And contrariwise, if the other hath had as good a will, although that which hee hath restored is of l [...]ss [...] valew then that which he hath receiued, or if he haue not satisfied at all, yet if hee haue a good minde to make a future satisfaction, if hee bend himselfe wholly to that busi­nesse, if he duly thinke on nothing but the same, he is no more ouercome then [Page 94] he that dieth manfully fighting, whom his enemie could sooner kill then put to flight. That which thou supposest to be dishonorable or dishonest, cannot be­fall a good man; that is to say, to be vanquished: neuer will his heart faile him, neuer will he giue ouer, hee will be alwayes readie to acknowledge euen vntill the last houre of his life. He will doe in this station, and will confesse himselfe to haue receiued great benefits, and wil protest that he hath a desire to repay them with the like.

CHAP. III.

THe Pancratia­stes was he, that not only with na­ked hands and [...]ists, but with his feete and whole bodie en­tertaineth the fight. Costus was hee, that with armed hand, or heauy buttons or waights of brasse, iron, or lead, charged [...]is aduersarie. Lacedemonians, forbad their Citizens to fight at buffets or braces, where he confessing himself to be vanquished, doth shew him to be the weaker man. The runner that first obtaineth the goale, out-strippeth his companion in swiftnesse, but not in cou­rage. The wrestler that hath fallen, and been foiled three times, hath lost the palme, but hath not yeelded it to his aduersarie. Whereupon the Lacedemonians being desirous aboue all other things, that their Citizens should be inuincible, they inhibited and forbad them the vse of all such games, in which the victory is giuen not by the opinion of the iudges, or by the issue of the game, but by the voice of him that yeeldeth, and his that commandeth him to submit and yeeld. Vertue and a good heart giue vnto all men that which the Lace­demonians doe obserue amongst their Citizens, vertue and good will yeeldeth all men that they shall neuer be vanquished, because euen amongst those that are ouercome the minde continueth inuincible. No man therefore saith, that the three hundred Fabij were conquered, but slaine. And Regulus was Captaine amongst the Carthaginians [...] but not conquered, and all else whatsoeuer oppres­sed by the force and waight of enraged and cruell Fortune. The care is all one in benefits, he that hath receiued more great, more precious, and more often, is not for all this vanquished. It may be that the benefits of one, are ouercome by those of another, in respect of those things that are giuen, and are receiued. But if thou wilt make a comparison betwixt the giuer and him that receiueth (whose mindes must be estimate also by themselues) there is neither of them shall haue the palme. For wee are accustomed to say, that hee who is wounded in diuers parts, and he that hath but a slight hurt, haue departed on euen hand from the combate, although one may seeme to haue receiued the fo [...]le.

CHAP. IIII.

The will to re­compence redee­meth the want. NO man therefore can be ouercome in benefits, if he know that he oweth, if he haue a will to recompence, and if that which he cannot attaine in act, he equalleth in minde and will. This man, as long as he is con [...]tant herein, as long as he hath a good intent, approuing his gratefull minde by outward signes: what skilleth it on whether part more presents may bee numbered? Thou hast the power to giue much, and I only the power to receiue the same: good fortune is on thy side, and good will on mine, yet am I so equal with thee, as some naked, or slight­ly armed, are equall to some that are armed at all points. No man therefore is ouercome in benefits. For euery one is as thankfull, as he would be. For if it be [Page 95] an affront and dishonour to be ouercome in kinde offices, wee ought not to re­ceiue a benefit at mightie mens hands, to whom we can in no sort yeeld any sa­tisfaction. I speake of Kings and Princes, whom Fortune hath entertained in that estate, that they may doe much, and bestow great largesse, but th [...]y cannot receiue but very little, and farre inferiour to their owne gift. I say, Kings and Princes, to whom notwithstanding there may be seruice done, whose greatnes and power is not sustained but by affection, and the common consent which their subiects haue to obey them. But there are some that are vnattainted with any couetousnes, that are scarcely touched with any humane desires; to whom Fortune her selfe can giue nothing. I must needs be ouercome by Soc [...]ates in be­nefits. I must confesse the like of Diogenes, who marched naked amiddest the ri­ches and most precious moueables of the Macedonians, and trampled their Kingly treasures vnder his feete. Did not he then (yea and that deserued) both in his owne eyes, and other mens sight (whose eyes were not sealed vp from see­ing the truth) seeme more eminent aboue him, vnder whose greatnes all things lay subiect. He was then more powerfull and more rich then Alexander, who at that time possessed all things, for there was more that this man would nor re­ceiue, then he was able to giue.

CHAP. V.

IT is no shame to bee ouercome by such as these, for neither am I lesse valiant, though you match me in fight with an enemie that cannot be wounded. Neither therefore can the fire burne lesse, if it light vpon a matter inuiolable by fire. Neither therefore hath the toole lost his force in caruing, if the stone be so hard that it cannot be pierced, and if naturally it be so rebellious against all things that are hard, that it will rather breake in peeces then yeeld. The same doe I answere of a thankful man, it is no dishonor for him to be ouercome by the benefits which he hath receiued at their hands, whose fortune is so great and mightie, and ver­tue so excellent, that it hath barred all returne of benefits vnto him. We are for the most part ouercome by our parents, for so long do we hate them, as long as we iudge them to be troublesome and insupportable, and as long as wee vnder­stand not their benefits. When as our yeares haue taught vs some experience, and we begin to perceiue, that they ought to be beloued by vs, for those things for which they were misliked; I meane their admonitions, their seueritie and diligent ouer-sight of our inconsiderate youth, then are they snatched and ta­ken from vs. Few there are that haue liued so long as to reape the true fruit of their childrens towardnesse, the rest haue felt a burthen by them [...] and discon­tent: yet is it no shame for children to be surmounted by their parents. And why should it be shamefull to be surmounted by them, since it is no disgrace to be vanquished by any whatsoeuer? For sometimes we are equall and vnequall to one and the same person; we are equall in good will, which is only r [...]quired, which we onely promise and professe: but we are vnequall in fortune, for want whereof, if a man be hindered from being thankfull, he ought not for that cause to be ashamed & blush, because he is vanquished. It is no dishonor to be vnable to ouertake, so a man pursue and follow still. Sometimes wee are enforced be­fore we haue restored the old, to craue new benefits. Neither therefore surceas [...] we to aske, or demand we disgracefully and dishonestly, because we runne fur­ther [Page 96] in debt, The miserable man then is to be excus [...]d, vn­lesse his mind be faultie in ma­king satisfaction before wee bee able to repay the former, because the fault is not through our default, but for that disabilitie preuenteth our gratuitie. But some thing will fall out otherwaies, which will keepe vs from satisfying, yet will wee not bee ouer-matched in minde, neither will w [...]e bee shamefully ouer-come in these things, which are not in our power.

CHAP. VI.

ALEXANDER King of Macedon, was oftentimes wont to boast, that neuer any man could ouercome him in benefits. There is no cause why this ouer-haughty minded Prince, should cast his eyes on the Macedons, Greekes, Carians, Persians, and other nations which were bound vnto him by way of conquest. He should not thinke that that great Kingdome, which extended it selfe from the furthest confines of Thrace, to the banks of the vnknown Sea, had giuen him the means to accomplish and do this. Socrates himselfe might vaunt that he had done as much, and Diogenes also, by whom he was ouercome. Why should he not be ouercome that very day, wherein the man swelling aboue measure with hu­mane pride, he saw a man to whom he could neyther giue, nor from whom hee could euer take any thing? King Archelaus intreated Socrates to come and vi­sit him; to whom (as it is reported) Socrates returned this answer: That he would not come vnto him from whom he should receiue a benefite, which he could not requite a­gaine. First of all [...] it was in his power not to receiue any thing: secondly, it was he that began to giue a benefite. For he came vnto him vpon his request, and gaue that which the King could neuer equall or satisfie. Moreouer, Archelaus was to giue him golde and siluer, but was himselfe to receiue the contempt of golde and siluer. Could not Socrates therfore requite Archelaus courtesie? Had he not equalled the good which he was to receiue, had he made him see a man perfect in the skill of liuing and dying, knowing the true ends of them both? If he had taught the King (who saw not at mid-day) the secrets of Nature, where­of he was so ignorant, that vpon a day when the Sunne was in Eclips, he caused the dores of his Palace to be shut; and (as men were wont to doe in time of mourning & great miserie) he cut off his sons haire: How great a benefit had it beene if he had drawne him loaden with feare out of the lurking places where he lay hidden, T [...]is is a [...]ain [...]t [...] ne­u [...]r w [...]s Ecclipse [...]t [...]ull M [...]one n [...]turally, hat in [...] d [...]ath s [...]pernaturally. and had encouraged him, saying, This is no defection or obscu­ring of the Sunne, but the encounter of two Planets, when as the Moone, sha­ping her course more lower th [...]n the Sunne, hath placed her Orbe vnder him, and by her interposition holdeth his light obscured from our sight: sometimes couereth no more then a small part of his bodie, when in the coniunction shee passeth no more but on one side; otherwhiles shee ecclipseth a greater part of his light, when she setteth her selfe in his front, and before him; otherwhiles she couereth him wholly, if with a iust and equall counterpoi [...]e, shee intirely [...]ettle her selfe opposite betwixt the Sunne and the earth: yet the swiftnesse of these starres shall suddenly separate the one from the other, the earth heereby shall recouer her light: and this order shall continue in all ages to come. There are certaine and destinated dayes, wherein the Moone shall by her intercourse hin­der the Sunne, not from shooting forth the fulnes of his beames. Stay but a while, and thou shalt suddenly see him breake forth, thou shalt see him dis­charge himselfe of the Moone as it were of a cloud, and (shaking off as it were [Page 97] those impediments that detaine him) thou shalt see him send forth his desired light most freely againe. Might not Socrates then haue requited Archelaus, if he had giuen him instructions how to gouerne his Kingdome? As little as you make of it, it had beene a great benefit in Socrates, and greater any wayes then Archelaus could haue giuen him. Why then said Socrates thus? Forsooth, be­cause hee tooke a pleasure to passe the time in [...]iguratiue mercie, and iesting dis­course, he mocked the whole world, but especially great men, and had rather denie him subtilly, then arrogantly and proudly. He said that he would receiue no benefits at his hands, to whom hee could not returne an answerable recom­pence. He feared happily least he should bee compelled to take that which hee would not, hee feared least hee should receiue something that were vnworthy, Socrates. But some man will say, that he might haue denyed the same, if he mis­liked it, but by this meanes he had incensed an insolent King against him, who would haue all that which came from his hands, highly esteemed. It is nothing to the purpose, whether thou refusest to giue any thing to that King, or receiue ought at his hands, he construeth and conceiteth the one repulse, as badly as the other, and to a proude man it is more distastfull to be disdained, then not to bee feared. Wilt thou know what he truly and really intended, hee would not en­tertaine a voluntarie seruitude, whose libertie a free Citie could not endure.

CHAP. IIII.

WE haue, as I suppose, sufficiently debated vpon this part, whither it were a dishonour to be ouer-come in benefiting. Which whoso­euer draweth in question, hee knoweth that men are not wont to giue themselues benefits; for it had beene manifest that it is no shame for a man to be vanquished by himselfe. Notwithstanding amongst some Stoicks, this also is brought in question, whether a man may giue himselfe a benefit, and whether he ought to yeeld himselfe thanks? The causes why this matter seemed to bee disputable, were these that follow: Wee are wont to say, I thanke my selfe, and I can complaine of no man but my selfe, I am angrie with my selfe, and I will be reuenged of my selfe, and I hate my selfe, and many other such things besides, whereby euery one speaketh of himselfe, as if it were of an other. If (saith he) I can hurt my selfe, wherefore can I not benefit my selfe likewise? Besides, if those kindnesses which I haue bestowed vpon an other, should be called benefits, why should they not retaine the same name, if they were imployed on my selfe? Had I receiued them of an other, I should owe the same, why then had I giuen them to my selfe, should I not owe them to my selfe? why should I be vngratefull to my selfe? whereas it is no lesse dishonora­ble and dishonest for me, then to be niggardly to my selfe, then to be cruell and tyrannous toward my selfe, and neglectfull of my selfe? As infamous is the band of anothers beautie, as shee that setteth her owne to sale: wee reprehend a flatterer, and an applauder of other mens sayings, and such a one as is alwaies readie to yeeld a false lustre and laud to euery thing: So likewise is he most iust­ly reprehended that pleaseth himselfe, admireth himselfe, and (if I may say so) flattereth himselfe. Vices are not onely hatefull, when they sinne abroade, but when they are retorted vpon themselues. Whom wilt thou more admire then him that gouerneth himselfe, and that alwaies carrieth in his hands the bridle of his owne motions and affections? It is more easie to gouerne Barbari­ans, [Page 98] and such as are impatient of forraine gouernement, then to contayne a mans minde: and make it subiect to it selfe. Plat [...] (saith hee) thanketh Socrates because he taught him. Why should not Socrates thanke himselfe for teaching himselfe? Marcus Cato saith: That which thou wantest, borrow of thy selfe. Why can I not giue it my selfe, if I can lend it my selfe? There are innumerable things wherein custome of discourse diuideth vs from our selues. We are wont to say, Let thou me alone, I will speake with my selfe, and I will pull my selfe by the eare: Which if they bee true, euen as any man ought to bee angrie with himselfe, so ought he to thanke himselfe: as he may rebuke himselfe, so may he praise him­selfe: as he may harme himselfe, so may he profit himselfe. An iniurie and a be­nefit are contraries: if we say of any man, he hath wronged himselfe, wee may likewise say, he hath done himselfe a good turne.

CHAP. VIII.

NO man is indebted to himselfe; but by the order of nature: we must first owe, before we pay. There is no debter without a creditor, no more then there is a husband without a wife, or rather a Fa­ther without a Sonne. There must be some one to giue, if there be any to receiue. It is neither to giue, nor receiue, to turne out of the right hand into the left: Euen as no man beareth himselfe, although hee moue and remoue his body: As no man, although hee hath pleaded his owne cause, is said to haue beene his owne Aduocate, neither raiseth hee a statue to himselfe, as if he had beene his owne Patron. As the sick man, when as by his owne diligence hee hath recouered his health, requireth no recompence from himselfe: so in all affaires, yea euen in those wherein a man hath deserued best of himselfe, yet ought he not yeeld himselfe thanks, because he hath not any to whom he may yeeld thanks: and if I grant thee that any man may do himselfe a pleasure: I say, that in giuing the same, he receiueth also. Admit I grant thee that any one receiueth a pleasure from himselfe; in receiuing the same, he satis­fieth for the same likewise. This cloaking and changing of persons (as the com­mon prouerbe runneth) is made in thine owne house, and passeth away forth­with as a fained and idle debt. For hee that giueth is none other then he that re­ceiueth, and both are but one. This word, to owe, hath place, but betweene two seuerall persons: how then may it consist in him only, which in that very instant requi [...]eth when he is obliged? Euen as in a Bowle or Ball there is neither high nor low, nor first nor last, because that in tossing and turning the same, the order of these things are changed: so as that they which went behinde are now before, and those things that fell, mount vp againe; and all things in fine re­turne vnto one point, in what sort soeuer they bee remoued; euen so must thou thinke that it falleth out in man: when thou hast changed him into diuers fashi­ons, he is but one and the same man. He hath beaten himselfe: he hath no man to sue for doing him iniurie. He hath bound and shut himselfe vp in prison: he cannot complaine of the iniustice and force he hath done vnto himselfe. He hath gratified himselfe, and hath forth with restored, euen when it was done, and a doing. Nature, the Mother of all things, is said to loose nothing; for what­soeuer is taken from her, returneth to her againe: neither can any thing perish, because it can finde no place where to issue out of it selfe, but returneth thither from whence it departed. But what resemblance (saith hee) hath this example [Page 99] to our matter in question? I will tell thee: Put case thou bee vngratefull to thy selfe [...] the benefit will not bee los [...], because hee that gaue it retaineth it still: Put case thou wilt not receiue it, it is in thy possession, before it is repaid thee. Thou canst loose nothing, for that which is taken from thee, is notwithstanding got­ten for thee. The wheele is turned within thy selfe; receiuing thou giuest, and giuing thou receiuest.

CHAP. IX.

A Man (saith he) must doe good vnto himselfe, and consequently he must be thankefull to himselfe. First, that is false whereon the sequell dependeth. For no man giueth himselfe a benefit, but obeyeth his owne nature, by whom hee is composed and framed to loue himselfe, whence there groweth in him an especiall care to auoide those things that are harmeful, and to desire those things that are pro­fitable. For which cause, neither is he liberall, that giueth to himselfe, nor pit­tifull, that pardoneth himselfe, nor mercifull, that is touched with his owne miseries. That which (were it imployed on other men) might iustly be called liberalitie, clemencie, and mercie: in regard of our selues, is but nature. A be­nefit is a voluntarie thing, but to profit a mans selfe, is a necessarie matter. The more benefits a man hath giuen, the more bountifull is he. Who euer was ap­plauded for succouring himselfe? for deliuering himselfe out of the danger of thiefes? no man giueth himselfe a benefit, no more then hee entertaineth him­selfe in his owne house, no man giueth to himselfe, no more then he lendeth to himselfe. If any man giueth himselfe a benefit, hee alwaies giueth, hee giueth without intermission, hee can neuer keepe iust reckoning of the number of his benefits. How can hee then returne a recompence, when as in that very thing wherein he satisfieth, he giueth a benefit? for how can he discerne whither he giue or restore vnto himselfe a benefit? whereas the matter concerneth but one only man? I haue deliuered my selfe out of danger: haue I giuen my selfe a be­nefit? Once more I preserue my selfe in perill, do I my selfe a good turne, or doe I restore it? Moreouer, although I should grant that first, that we giue a benefit to our selues, yet will I not grant the consequent. For although wee giue, wee owe not. Why? because we presently receiue: First, must we receiue a bene­fite, and then owe it, and then requite it. But here is no time of owing, in so much as we receiue againe without any delay. No man giueth but to an other man, no man oweth but to an other man, no man restoreth but to another man. All that which in this sort requireth two persons, cannot be done in one.

CHAP. X.

A Benefit is that whereby something is profitably giuen, but this word, to haue giuen, appertayneth to others. Shall he not be sup­posed to be a mad man, that saith, hee hath sold any thing to him­selfe? because a sale is an alienation of a mans substance and right, and a translation thereof vnto an other. But euen as in selling, so in buying any thing we ought to make a reall surrender of the thing, and to leaue that which a man hath, to suffer an other to enioy the same. Well, if benefiting bee of the [Page 100] same nature, then can no man benefit himselfe, because no man can giue ought to himselfe. For then should two contraries concurre in one, so as giuing and taking should be all one thing. But there is great difference betwixt giuing and taking. And good cause why, considering that both these wordes are placed as contraries, the one against the other, but if a man may giue himselfe a benefit, there is no difference betwixt giuing & receiuing. I said a little before, that there were some wordes that appertayned to others, and are so formed that their whole signification departed from our selues. I am a brother, but an other mans brother: For no man can bee his owne brother. I am equall and like; but to some man: for who is equall with himselfe? That which is compared, is not to be vnderstood without an other [...] that which is vnited, cannot be without an o­ther: If both, that which is giuen, is not without an other, so likewise a benefit is not without a receiuer. And this appeareth in the word it selfe, wherein this is contayned to haue benefited. But no man benefiteth himselfe, no more then hee fauoureth himselfe, or taketh part with himselfe: I might prosecute this thing longer, and with larger examples, and why not? when as a benefit is num­bred amongst those things, which require a second person. Some things which are honest, praise-worthy, and of great vertue, haue no place, but with another. Faithfulnesse and integritie, is commended and praised by euery man, and are esteemed amongst the greatest blessings which appertaine to mankinde, and yet haue you euer heard, that any man hath beene faithfull to himselfe?

CHAP. XI.

I Come now to the last part. He that requi [...]eth a good turne, must imploy somewhat of his owne, as he doth who repayeth the mo­nie he oweth: but he layeth out nothing who satisfieth himselfe, no more then he giueth, who giueth to himselfe. A benefit and a remuneration must passe from one vnto an other: for in one per­son there is no vicissitude or change: He therefore that requiteth a good turne pleasureth him againe, from whom hee hath receiued any thing. Hee that is gratefull to himselfe, whom profiteth he? himselfe. But what man is hee that thinketh not that acknowledgement of a fauour is in one place, and the benefit in an other? He that requiteth himselfe; profiteth himselfe; but what vngrate­full man was there euer that would not doe this? nay rather who was not vn­gratefull that he might doe this? if we (saith he) ought to thanke our selues for that we haue done wel, we ought likwise to yeeld some recōpence to our selues. But we say, I thanke my selfe, because I married not that wife, and for that I contra­cted not societie with that man. When we say thus, wee praise our selues, and to approue our fact, we abuse the wordes of those that giue thanks. A benefit is such a thing which may not be restored, euen then when it is giuen, he that gi­ueth himselfe a benefit, cannot choose but receiue that which he gaue, Ergo, it is no benefit. A good turne is entertained at one time, and recompenced at an other; And in a benefit the thing that is most probable, and of greatest repute, is, that hee forgetteth his owne profit to doe an other man good, and taketh from himselfe, to giue vnto a second; this doeth hee not that giueth himselfe a benefit. To giue a benefit is a sociable thing. It ioyneth that mans fauour, [Page 101] and obligeth this mans friendship: To giue to a mans selfe is no sociable thing, it ioyneth no man, it obligeth no man, it encourageth no man to say, This man deserueth to be honored, he did such a man a good turne, and will doe mee the like. A benefit is that which a man giueth, not for his owne sake, but for his to whom he giueth it: he that giueth himselfe a benefit, giueth it for his owne sake. Ergo, it is no benefit.

CHAP. XII.

SVpposest thou that I lie and grow deficient in that which I promi­sed in the He said in the beginning of the first [...]hapter of this first Booke, that although he had not to en­treate of things necessarie yet the labour should not be lost. beginning? sayest thou that in stead of performing some laudible thing, I runne at random, and thinking to do well, haue lost my labour? Expect a little I pray thee, and thou shalt say this more truely, (as soone as I haue led thee into these labo­rinthes, from whence, when thou hast escaped, thou shalt attaine no more, then to fli [...] those difficulties into which it was in thine owne choice not to descend: what profit receiuest thou to vnloose those knots which thou hast expressely knit with much trauaile, to the end thou mightest, when thou hast tied them, busie thy selfe to loosen them? But euen as some of them are so fastened (for de­light and meriment sake) that it is a hard matter for an vnskilfull man to loosen them, whereas hee who hath tied them, may easily slacke them, because he knoweth the stops and entanglings thereof, and yet notwithstanding those haue some pleasure in them, for they trie the sharpnes of mens wits, and awaken them to more diligence: so these things which in appearance are subtill and de­ceitfull exile securitie, dulnesse and sloth from mens mindes, to which some­times easie passages are to be laid open, in which they may wander, sometimes somewhat difficult and dangerous is to be set in their way, through which they may hardly creepe without trauell, or in which they may not walke without difficultie. It is said that no man is vngratefull, and this is thus concluded. A be­nefit is that which profiteth, but no man can profit an euill man (as you Stoicks say) therefore an euill man receiueth no benefit, and consequently also he can­not be vngratefull. Furthermore, a benefit is an honest and probable thing: with a wicked man there is no place, either for that which is honest or profita­ble, therefore not for a benefit, which if he cannot receiue, he ought not to re­store, and therefore is he not vngratefull. Againe, as you say, A good man doth all things iustly [...] if he doth all things iustly, he cannot be vngratefull. A good man restoreth a benefit, an euill man cannot accept it. Which if it be so, neither any good or euill man is vngratefull: and consequently, this name of vngrate­full is but a friuolous and imaginary name in this world. There is but only one good with vs, and that is honestie. This cannot an euill man apprehend, for he ceaseth to be euill, if vertue enter into him, but as long as he is euill, no man can giue him a benefit, because good and euill things are at oddes, and cannot be re­conciled: therefore no man profiteth him, for whatsoeuer befalleth him, he cor­rupteth it with euill vse. For euen as the stomacke being troubled and corrup­ted by long sicknesse, and oppressed by choller, changeth whatsoe [...]er meates it receiueth, and conuerteth all the nutriment it receiueth into the cause of his griefe: euen so a blinded minde, whatsoeuer thou committest to him, it ma­keth the same his burthen, his bane, and the occasion of his miseri [...]. They then which haue most riches, and possesse most goods, are subiect to most stormes [Page 102] and t [...]mpests, and the lesse finde they themselues, the more they fall into a grea­ter occasion of impi [...]tie and disturbance: nothing therefore may befall the e [...]ill that may profit them, nay rather, nothing that doth not hurt them. For wha [...] ­soeuer befalleth them, they conuert into their owne nature, and those things which in outward appearance are pleasing and profitable, if they were giuen to a better man, are pestiferous and harmefull to them. Therefore also can they not giue a benefit, because no man can giue that which hee hath not, and for that they want a will to doe good.

CHAP. XIII.

BVt although all this were true, yet may an euill man receiue such things as haue a similitude and resemblance of benefits, which being vnrecompenced, hee shall bee iustly termed vngratefull. There are goods of the minde, goods of the body, and goods of fortune. Those goods of the minde are such, as foolish and bad men are vncapable of them. To these is he admitted, who can both receiue the same, and is tied to restore them; and if he restoreth them not, he is vngratefull. And this is not our constitution only, it is of the Stoicks doctrine. The Peri­patetiques also (who prefix such large and ample bounds to hunmane felicitie) say, that the smaller sort of benefits befall the euill men, that whosoeuer resto­reth not, hee is vngratefull. Wee therefore esteeme them no benefits, which cannot better and enoble the mind, yet deny we not, but that they are commo­dities, and such as are to bee desired, these may an euill man giue, and receiue from a good man; as money, garments, honour, life, which if he requite not, he falleth into the name of an vngratefull man. But how call you him vngratefull, for not restoring that, which thou deniest to bee a benefit? There are some things, which although they are not truly such, yet for the similitude and like­nesse they haue with them, are comprehended vnder the same word. So call we a box, An [...] y [...]t is cal­led a Box, from the Box-tree, o [...] wh [...]ch boxes [...]irst w [...]re made, it answ [...]res to the Gre [...]ke word [...]. both of that which is of gold, as that which is of siluer: so terme w [...]e him vnlearned that is not wholly rude, but as yet vntrained and taught in high­er discipline: so hee that seeth a man ill clothed, and in ragged garments, saith that he hath seene a naked man. These are no benefits, yet haue they a resem­blance of b [...]ne [...]its. As th [...]se are but benefits in appearance, so seemeth he to be vngratefull, yet is not he vngratefull. This is false, because that hee that giueth, and hee that receiueth calleth them b [...]n [...]fits. So also he that hath deceiued vnder pretence and colour of a true benefit, is as vngratefull as he is held to be a poysoner, that giueth a stupifying medicine, when he beleeued it was poison.

CHAP. XIIII.

CLEANTHES vrgeth this more vehemently; Although (saith he) it b [...] not a benefit which he receiueth, yet is he vngratefull, be­cause he would not haue restored it, although hee had receiued it. So is he a theefe (yea eu [...]n then before he hath polluted his hands) because hee is alreadie armed to kill, and hath a will to spoile and murther: wickednesse beginneth not, but is exercised and opened in the action. That which he receiued was no benefit, but was so called. Sacrile­gious [Page 103] persons are punished, although they lay not their hands on the Gods. How (saith he) may a man be vngratefull towards a wicked man, when as a be­nefit cannot be giuen to a wicked man? Verily in that respect, because he recei­ueth of him some of those things, which amongst vulgar and ignorant persons are called goods, whereof, if euill men haue abundance, he also in the like mat­ter ought to be gratefull, and restore those things, whatsoeuer they be, for good, whereas hee receiued them for good: hee is said to owe another mans money, both hee that oweth gold, and he that oweth lether coyned with the publike stampe, such as was currant amongst the Lacedemonians, that standeth in stead of readie money: in that kinde thou art obliged, in the same to yeeld satisfaction.

CHAP. XV.

WHat benefits are, and whether the greatnesse and dignitie of a name so honorable should bee imployed in this abiect, and hum­ble matter, it appertayneth not to you, a true benefit belongeth vnto others. Compose you your mindes to the resemblance of a true benefit, and whilest you say that thing is honest, whatsoe­uer it be, if it be reputed and esteemed for honest, esteeme and praise that: Euen as (saith hee) no man in your iudgement is vngratefull, so againe by your recko­ning all men are vngratefull. For as you say, all fooles are euill men, but he that hath one vice is possessed of all, and all men are fooles and euill, therefore all men are vngratefull. What then? doth not the reproch generally light vpon all mankinde? Is it not a publike complaint that benefits are lost, and that there are few which requite not euill, for such as haue deserued well? neither hast thou cause to conceiue that this is our particular misconceit, or deceit, and that wee alone repute all things euill, and depraued that fall not out euen and iust, with the rule of right. Behold I know not what veine it is, or whence it is sent, which crieth not out of the Philosophers house, but from the midst of the multitude, condemning People and Nations.

Nor from the Hoste the guest can be secured,
Nor from his Sonn in-law the Father freed,
Nor Brother from his Brother be assured:
Both Man and wife haue eithers death decreed.

But this now is more, benefits are turned into banes, and their blood is not spa­red, for whose defence we ought to spend our owne. Wee follow and gratifie benefits with Sword and Poison. At this time it is reputed dignitie and great­nesse, to violate and spoile a mans Countrey, and to oppresse her with her owne authoririe. He that hath not troden the Common-wealth vnder his feete, supposeth himselfe the basest and ignoblest in the same. These Armies that were leuied by her, are armed against her, and her imperious voice is applauded and listned to, that saith. Fight against your wiues, draw your Swords against your children, destroy your Temples, raize downe your houses, and cast your houshold gods on the ground. You that should not enter Rome (no not to triumph) without permission and commaund of the Senate, and to whom bringing home their victorious Armies, audience was giuen in the Senate without the Citie walles, enter the Citie now with displayed ensignes, murthering the Citizens, and ba­thed [Page 104] in the blood of your neerest kinsfolkes. Let libertie bee silent amidst these warlike ensignes. And let that conquering Nation, and that people which hath established peace thorow their whole Empire; and driuen warres out of their Prouinces, and allayed all terrour and feare, now besieged and terrified within their owne walles, be affraide of their owne Standards and Eagles.

CHAP. XVI.

VNgratefull was This was a valiant Captain amongst the Ro­manes, who be­ing banished vp­on certaine oc­casions out of the Citie ( as Titus Liuius repor­teth in his second Booke, Ab vrbe Condita.) Was so skilfull to en­ter and insinuate himselfe amongst the Vol [...]eans, that leuying an Armie of them, he began to in­uade his Coun­trie, vntill be­ing mooued by his Mothers Prayers and teares, he ceased from the battell. Coriolanus, to late pious and penitent after his wic­kednesse commited: he laide aside his Armes, yet so laide he them aside, that it was in the height and midst of ciuill parricide. Vn­gratefull was This was an­other rebellious Citizen of Rome, who leuying an Armie both of his naturall Countrey-men and strangers, intended to de­stroy the same, had he not beene preuented by Ci­ceros wisedome, as Salust wit­nesseth in the warres of Cati­line. Catiline. It is a small matter with him to surprise his Countrie, except he vtterly ruinate it: except he leade the re­giments of the Sauoyes and Dalphinois to spoyle the same; and these enemies whom he had leuied on the other side of the Alpes, had satisfied and glutted their old and mortall hatreds: except the Romaine Captaines had paied their long-due anniuersaries of infernall sacrifice to the Sepulchres of the Gaules. Ingratefull was This was an­other Romane Citizen, who be­ing obscurely borne, and of a rustique conuer­sation, became Consull in Rome seuen times, and ouer-came a na­tion called the Cymbrians, and afterward being incensed against his Citizens, for banishing him for a certaine space into Affricke, hee committed huge murthers in the Citie. Caius Marius, who was raised from a common Souldier to a Consular: who except hee had equalled the Romane Funerals with the Cim­brian slaughters, except hee had not onely giuen a signe of ciuill slaughter and murther, but himselfe had beene the murtherer, he would haue supposed that his fortune had beene changed very little, and that he had not growen greater: but was buried in his former obscuritie. Ingratefull was Lucius Sylla, who hea­led his Countrie with harder remedies then the dangers were; who when hee had marched from the tower of Praeneste to the gate Collina, through the blood of slaughtered souldiers, waged new battels in the Citie, executed new slaugh­ters, and slew two legions (O crueltie) after victorie, and (that which was most impious) when he had driuen and gathered them into a strait, hee murthered them notwithstanding, after he had faithfully promised them their pardon, and inuented a proscription (O soueraigne Gods) that hee who had slaine a Ro­man Citizen, should not only be discharged and exempted from punishments, but receiue reward, and which is more receiue the reward done to him that preserued a Citizen. Ingratefull is He was exercised in the affaires of the Common-wealth, when he was but twentie three yeares old. Cneus Pompey, who for his three Consul­ships, for his three triumphes, for so many honors; which for the most part were thrust vpon him, during his immature and yong yeares, returned the Common-weale this requitall, that hee seazed others of the possession of the same, supposing thereby to discharge himselfe of that enuie, that might be con­ceited against his greatnesse and authoritie, if that which were lawfull for no man might bee admitted in many, whilest hee longed after extraordinary chaunges and commanudes, whilest hee distributeth Prouinces, to make choice of that which best liked him, whilest in such sort hee diuided the Com­mon-weale into the hands of the Tribunes, that two parts thereof remained al­wayes in his owne house, hee reduced the Romane people to that extreame, that they could not be discharged or secured, but by their seruitude and losse of libertie: Ingratefull was he, who was both Pompeyes enemie and conquerer, who drew the warre from the vttermost bounds of Germany and France, before the wals of Rome. He it was (that pretending popularitie, and so great loue and [Page 105] tender care of the Comminaltie) that pitched his tents in the The Romans had in their Ci­tie three round Courts, or Cir­cles, whi [...]er they resorted to see their sports and plaies, wher­of this was one which was ther­fore called the Flaminian Cir­cle or round, be­cause a Consul called Flamini­us builded the same. Flaminian round, neerer then the place where This was a King of the E­trurians, who waged warre a­gainst the Ro­mans to install Tarquine the proud, and planted his colours as Iulius Caesa [...] did, neere to the Flaminian round or Theatre. P [...]rsenna encamped. True it is that he [...] tempered the power which the law of armes and victorie allotted him, and per­formed that which he was wont to say, and neuer slew any, except such a one as was armed and addressed to fight against him. But what importeth all this? The rest exercised armes more cruelly then he did, yet were they satisfied at length, and laid them downe, but this man sheathed his sword quickly, but ne­uer laid it aside. Ingratefull was Anthony towards his Dicta­tor was the highest dignitie and Magistracie that was in the Romane Common-weale. See Aldus in his booke De legibus Romanis [...] Dictator, whom he pro­nounced to be iustly slaine, and assigned to his murtherers great Prouinces and gouernments: and hauing torne and tired his country with pros [...]riptions, in­cursions, and ciuill warres after so many euils, he decreed that, that generous Common-weale, which in times past had giuen liberties, exemptions, and par­ticular priuiledges to the people of Achaia, and the Rhodians, and many other famous Cities, should her selfe become tributarie, not to Romane Kings, but to infamous Eunuches and Geldings.

CHAP. XVII.

THe day would faile mee, if I should reckon vp all those that were vngratefull, euen with the vtter destruction of their Countries. And no lesse endlesse labour would it be, if I should beginne to relate how vngratefull our Common-weale hath beene towards the best, and most tenderly affected Citizens shee had, and how as often shee hath sinned in ingratitude her selfe, as others haue sinned against her. Shee sent All these were valiant Citizens of Rome, who emploied them­selues in many notable seruices, and receiued disgraces for their good de­serts. This Island is not exempt from such like presidents. Camillus into exile, dismissed Scipio, banished Cicero after Catilines conspiracie, shee raced his house, spoiled his goods, and exercised against him all those cruelties which Cateline himselfe could haue done, had h [...]e beene Con­querer. Rutillius, in reward of his innocencie, was banished into Asia, to liue there in obscuritie. The Roman people denied Cato the Praetorship, and would neuer grant him the dignitie of a Consull. In briefe, wee are all of vs generally vngratefull. Let euery one examine himselfe; there is not any man that will not complaine of some ones ingratitude. And it cannot be that all men should complaine, except there were some cause also to complaine of all men. All men therefore are vngratefull. Is this all? and are they thus only. All are couetous, the world likewise is subiect to auarice, all are malicious, all fearefull, and they especially who seeme to be most confident. Furthermore, all men are ambitious, and all men are wicked: But thou must not bee displeased and agrieued hereat, all of them are mad. I will not recall thee to vncertainties, as to say vnto thee, see how vngratefull youth is. Who is he (be he neuer so innocent) that wisheth not that his Father had breathed his last? who is he (how modest soeuer he be) that gapes not after his death? who is he (how religious and pittifull soeuer hee be reputed) that thinketh not of his Fathers death? what husband so feareth the death of a good wife, as he counteth not the gaine he shal receiue if she die? what man is he, I pray you, who being intangled in the law, and deliuered by an o­ther mans diligence, that bethinketh him of so great a benefit any longer, then [Page 106] vntill a second action? This is confessed, and certaine without all exception: Is there any man that dieth without complayning? who at his last gaspe dare say thus:

My daies are done,
Virgil. AEn [...]id. 4
now haue I brought to end
The course of life, that Fortune did me lend.

Who dieth not vnwillingly? who departeth not mournefully? But this is the part of an vngratefull man, not to content himselfe with the time that was lent him. The time will alwaies seeme short vnto thee, if thou reckon the same. Thinke that the chiefest good is not in time, and how little soeuer it be, take it in good part. It addeth nothing to thy felicitie, if the day of thy death be pro­longed, because by delay life is not made more blessed, but more long. How much better is it to giue thankes vnto the goddes for those honest pleasures, which wee haue receiued, and not to busie our selues in numbring other mens yeares, but to esteeme our owne thankefully, and to put them in the accompt of our gaines: hath God thought me worthy of this? this sufficeth mee: might hee haue giuen mee more? but this also is a benefit. Let vs bee thankefull to the gods, let vs be thankefull to men, let vs be thankefull vnto those that haue done vs any curtesie, and thankefull to those likewise who haue done any kindnesse to any of ours.

CHAP. XVIII.

THou obligest mee infinitely (saiest thou) when thou saiest Ours, prefixe therefore some end. He that bestoweth a benefit on the Sonne, as thou saiest, bestoweth it likewise on the Father. First, I aske where, and whither, and afterwards I desire thee likewise to informe me, whether a pleasure done vnto the Father, be like­wise done vnto the Brother, to the Father, the Vnckle, the Grand-father, the Wife, the Sonne in law? Tell me where I should end, how long wilt thou that I follow the order and petigree of so many persons? if I haue tilled thy land for thee, haue I not done thee a pleasure? if I haue quenched the fire that would haue burned thy house, or if I haue repaired it, for feare it should fall vpon thee, shall I not giue thee a benefit? if I saue thy slaues life, shall I impute it vnto thee? If I preserue thy Sonne, hast thou not receiued a benefit at my hands?

CHAP. XIX.

THou settest downe vnlike and different examples, because that he who tilleth my Land, giueth not the benefit to my Land, but to me: and hee that vnder-proppeth my house, least it should fall, doth the pleasure to me: for the house it selfe is without sense. I must needs be in his debt, because none else is. And he that ma­nureth my land, doth it not to deserue wel of the soile, but of my selfe. The same will I say of my seruant, for he iustly appertayneth to me, It is for my profit he is preserued, and therefore I am indebted for him. My Sonne is capable him­selfe of a benefit, and therefore hee receiued it; I am glad of the fauour done him, it concerneth mee somewhat, yet am I not obliged. Yet [Page 107] would I haue thee answere mee, who thinkest thou art not indebted, whether thy sonnes good health, felicitie and patrimonie appertaineth to the Fa­ther? Hee shall bee more happy if his sonne bee whole and safe, and vnhap­pie if he los [...] him. What then? he that is made happier by me, and deliuered from the perrill of a mightie infelicitie and misfortune: hath he not receiued a benefit? no (saith he) for certaine things are bestowed vpon others, which extend also vnto vs; but euery thing ought to be required at his hands, on whom that is bestowed: as money is required at his hands who borrowed the same, al­though the same came in some sort into my hands. Marke a glimps of charity euen in a Pagan. There is no benefit, the profit thereof toucheth and extendeth not to our neighbours, and sometimes al­so to those that are farthest off from vs. The question is not whether the bene­fite be transferred from him to whom it is giuen, but where it is first placed, thou must alwaies redemaund it from the principall debter, and he that ought it first. What then I pray thee? saiest thou not thou hast giuen me my sonne, and if hee had perished I should not haue liued? gauest thou not a benefite for his life, whose safetie thou preferrest before thine owne? At such time as I saued thy sonne, thou diddest not fall downe at my feete; thou diddest not pay thy vowes vnto the gods, as if thou thy selfe hadst beene pr [...]serued? diddest thou not cry out after this manner, the same hast thou done in succouring my sonne, as ni sauing mine owne person make accompt that thou hast saued two, and me es­pecially: Why saiest thou this, if thou receiuest no benefite? because al­though my sonne hath borrowed money, which I will repay vnto his creditor, yet shall not I bee indebted: and if my sonne hath beene taken in adulterie, I may happily be ashamed, yet shall not I therefore be the adulterer: I say that I am bound vnto thee for my sonne, not because I am, but because I will offer my selfe vnto thee a voluntarie debter. But a great pleasure hath befallen me by his safetie; inestimable is the profit I conceiue thereby, and which is more, I haue e­scaped the grieuous wound and corrasiue of being child-lesse. The question is not now, whether thou hast profited me; but whether thou hast giuen mee a benefit; for a liuing creature, an herb, a stone profit me, yet giue they me no be­nefite, which is neuer giuen but by such a one as is willing. But thou wilt not giue vnto the Father, but to the sonne; and in the meane while thou knowest not the Father; when therefore thou saiest, Haue I not therefore giuen a benefit to the Father, because I haue saued his son? Argue thou this contrariwise: How could I therefore giue a benefite to the Father, whom I neither kn [...]w, or euer thought vpon? and why falleth it not out sometimes, that thou shalt hate the Father mortally, and yet be desirous to saue his sonnes life? Wouldest thou say that thou gauest a benefite to the Father, whose mortall enemie tho [...] wert at that time? Resolution of the doubts. But laying aside these questions which I intreate of by way of Dia­logue, I will now answere like a Lawier: And say, that the minde of the giuer is to be respected. He gaue him the benefite to whom he intended it; euen as if he did it in honor of the Father: the Father receiued the benefite, not the sonne; so is not the Father bound for a benefite bestowed vpon his sonne, although he enuie it. Yet if occasion be offered, the Father shall not do amisse, to be willing to giue some-what, not that he is constrained by necessitie to pay any thing; but that he might haue found a sufficient cause to begin to do a pleasure. A bene­fite therefore ought not to be redemanded at the Fathers hands, for a curtesie done vnto the sonne: and if he voluntarily shew himselfe gratefull for the same, he ought rather to be esteemed iust than thankfull. For otherwise there would neuer be an end; if I giue a benefite to the Father, the mother, the graund-father, [Page 108] the vncle, to the children, kinsfolke, friends, seruants, and countrie: where then beginneth a benefite to rest? For me thinks I am fallen into an argument which the Grecians call Sorites, which hath neuer an end, because it drudgeth on, and stealing forward by little and little, ceaseth not continually to passe on further. Men are wont to debate vpon this matter: Two brothers are at deadly feude the one against the other, if I preserue the one, haue I profited the other, who wil be sorrie that his brother hath escaped with life? There is no doubt but that it is a benefit, although it be against his will that receiueth the same: Euen as contra­ry wise, he hath not giuen a benefit, that profited against his will.

CHAP. XX.

CAllest thou that (saith he) a benefit wherewith he is offended and vexed? many benefits haue a harsh and distastfull appearance; as when we cut and cauterize to heale, and imprison to amend. We ought not to respect whether a man be sorrie for a benefit recei­ued, but whether hee ought to reioyce. The coine is not bad, which a barbarous and ignorant person accepteth not for currant and rightly stamped money. He hateth the benefit and yet he receiueth the same, if it bee profitable vnto him, and hee that hath giuen the same, hath done it to the end that it should bee profitable: it makes no matter though a man receiue a good turne with an euill will: So to let vs turne this the contrary way: A man hateth his brother, whose life importeth and profiteth him much, him haue I slaine. This action of mine is no benefit vnto him, although he say it is and re­ioyce thereat. Most traiterously doth he hurt, who receiueth thankes for doing harme. I do than see something is profitable and is therefore a benefit, hurtfull and therefore is no benefit. Behold I will giue that which is neither profitable nor hurtfull, and yet it is a benefit. I haue trauersed a desolate place, and found some mans father starke dead, and haue buried his body, neither haue I profited him that was slain (for what concerned it him after what manner he were con­sumed?) neither was it profitable for his sonne, for what could he gaine here­by? I will tell you what hee hath gained, hee hath discharged by my meanes a necessarie and solemne office. I haue done that to his father: which he himselfe would haue done, nay more, which in dutie he ought to do. Now if I did it not for common pietie and humanities sake only, as I might haue buried any other dead mans body, but knew the carcasse and thought vpon the sonne at the same time, and did it for his sake, then is it a benefit. But if I burie a dead man that is vnknowne to me, no man is indebted to me for this office, because it was but a point of publique humanitie. Some one will say vnto me: Why art thou so bu­sie to [...]nquire who it is to whom thou hast done a pleasure, as if thou wouldest heereafter redemaund the same? There are some that iudge that it should ne­uer be claimed againe, and alledge these causes. The vnworthie receiuer will not requite the same to bee redemaunded, the thankfull and worthie receiuer will of himselfe yeeld recompence. Besides if thou hast giuen to a good man, be not to earnest in clayming it, least in demaunding the same thou do him wrong; as if he would not haue satisfied thee of his owne free will. If thou hast giuen it to an euill man, haue patience. Corrupt not thy benefit with redemaunding [Page 109] the same, and of a curtesie make it no debt. Besides, that which the law biddeth not to be redemanded, it forbiddeth. These things are true, as long as nothing vrgeth me, as long as fortune inforceth me nothing, I will rather craue then aske againe. But if it be to saue my children [...] liues: if my wife bee in danger of hers, if the libertie and good of my Countrie constraineth me to go thither whither I would not, I will command my bashfulnesse, I will protest that I haue endu­red all things before I would bee inforced to demand succours at an vngratefull mans hand. In briefe, the necessit [...]e of receiuing a good turne, shall ouer-come the shame of claiming it, when therefore I employ a benefit vpon a good man, I so giue it as if I would neuer redemand the same, except necessitie inforce me: but the law (saith he) not permitting to demand, forbiddeth to claime.

CHAP. XXI.

THere are many things which neyther haue lawe nor action, to which the custom of humane life, more powerfull then any law, giueth entrance. No law commandeth vs to discouer our friends secrets, neyther doth any lawe in like manner tye vs to keepe promise and our word with our enemy. What law tyeth vs to performe that which we haue promised to any man? yet will I iustly com­plaine of him that hath discouered my secret, and be displeased with him that hath giuen me his word, and hath not kept it. But thou (saith h [...]) makest a debt of a benefite. Nothing lesse: for I doe not exact it, but redemand it; neyther do I redemand it, but admonish: neyther shall my extreamest necessitie enforce me to this, to come vnto him with whom I shall be forced to vse long contesta­tion. Who so is so farre plunged in ingratitude, that he will not be content to be aduertised and admonished, I will let him passe [...] neyther will I thinke him worthy to be inforced to be thankfull. Euen as the vsurer raketh not vpon those debitors, whom he knoweth to haue played the banckerouts, or to be so poore that nothing is left them to lose that may make them ashamed: so will I ouer­passe some that are publiquely and obstinately thankelesse [...] neyther will I rede­mand a benefite at any mans hands, but from him onely from whom I shall not take away by force, but freely receiue it.

CHAP. XXII.

MAnie there are that neyther know how to denie the good they haue receiued, nor to restore it when it is needfull: who are not so good as the gratefull, nor so euill as the vngratefull: slacke and idle debitors, yet not euill. There is as great weakenesse in many men in not being able to li­mit the opportu­nity of their sa­tisfaction. These will I not challenge, but admonish: & since they forget their duety, I wil make th [...]m remember them­selues, so as they will presently answer me in this sort: Parda [...], I pray you, in good faith I knew not that you had need hereof: for [...]ad I t [...]ought s [...] much, I had offered i [...] you of my selfe: I beseech you account me not vngratefull, I remember well what kind­nesse [Page 110] you haue done vnto me. Why should I feare to make these men better to themselues, and to me also? I will binde whomsoeuer I can from sinning, much more my friend from offending, and especially against my selfe. I giue him an other benefite, if I suffer him not to be vngratefull, neither will I rudely vpbraid him with the good turns he hath had of me: but as mildly as I can wil I only re­fresh the memory of them, to the end he may haue occasion to restore me some such pleasure: I will pray him to do me a good turne, to the end he may vnder­stand that I doe it to redemand mine owne. Now and then will I vse sharp and bitter words, if I conceiue any hope that he may be amended: for a desperate person, who hath lost all shame I will not exasperate him, lest of an vngratefull man I make him mine enemie. For if we remit and forbeare to admonish sharp­ly, and call on those that are vngratefull, we shall make them more slow to re­quite our courtesies. But some that may be amended, and who may be made good, if any thing touch their conscience: shal we suffer them to be lost for want of admonition, wherewith the father hath sometimes corrected his sonne, and the wife recalled and reclaimed her straying husband, and a friend refreshed the languishing faith of his friend?

CHAP. XXIII.

SOme there are that so sleepe, that they are not to bee awaked by striking, but by jogging. In like manner there are some that want not the will to yeeld satisfaction, but they are too slack and slow in the performance thereof, let vs awaken it. Be not thou the cause that thy benefit bee conuerted into an iniurie. Thou shoul­dest iniurie me, if thou wouldest not redemand the pleasure, which thou hast done me, for this cause, that I might become vngratefull. What if I know not what thou wantest? what if distracted by occupations, and imployed other­waies, I haue not obserued the occasion? shew me what I may, and what thou wouldest. Why dispairest thou, before thou triest mee? why art thou so hastie to loose both thy benefit and thy friend? whence knowest thou that I will not, or I know not, or whither my minde or meanes be deficient; make triall of me. I will aduise and admonish him then, not bitterly, not openly, but so modestly, that he may thinke that of himselfe he hath called the matter to memori [...], and was not put in minde by me.

CHAP. XXIIII.

A Certaine old Souldier, who had vsed some violence towards his Neighbours, was drawne in question before Iulius Caesar, and see­ing himselfe ouer-charged, and like to loose the processe. CAESAR (saith he) remember you not how you once sprent your anckle in Spaine neare to Sucre; a Riuer of Valentia? when C [...]sar had answered him that he remembred it well, the Souldier continuing his purpose, said thus: Doe [Page 111] you remember likewise, that being couched vnder a Tree, that gaue but little shadow, and desirous to rest your selfe, to flie the heate of the scortching Sunne, in a barren and roc­kie soile, in which there was not but that only Tree, that grew from amongst the craggy cliffes, there was one of your Souldiers that spred his cloake vnder you. When Caesar had answered, yea marrie, why should I not remember it: for when I was nigh dead for thirst, because I was not able to goe to the next spring, by reason of my foot, I would haue crept thither vpon all foure, but that a Souldier of mine, a man both stout and valiant, brought mee water in his Helmet. Emperor (said this Souldier) doe you now know that man, and that helmet, if you see them. CAESAR answered, that hee knew not the Morion, but that hee knew the Souldier very well, and further said, (displeased, as I suppose, for that he interrupted the plea­ding of the cause, to listen to that old storie which hee had told him.) I am sure thou art not he. CAESAR (said the Souldier) I blame thee not, in that thou hast forgotten me, Or Munde [...]ara, a people of An­daluzia. for when this was done, I was whole and sound, afterwards I lost an eye at the battell of Munda, certaine splinters of my skull were taken out of my head, neither would you know the Helmet if you should see it, for it was cleft in peeces by the stroke of a Spanish Curtelax. Hereupon Caesar commanded that he should not be trou­bled any further, and gaue vnto his Souldier those small parcells of Land, through which the way lay, that made this strife betwixt him & his neighbors.

CHAP. XXV.

WHat then? should he not re-challenge the benefit at the Emperors hands, whose memorie was confused through the multitude of his affaires? whose great fortune in disposing of his armie, suffe­red him not to remember and reward euery priuate Souldier? This is not to redemand a benefit, but to resume it againe, being readie at hand, and laied vp in a good place, and yet if a man will haue it, he must stretch out his hand. I will therefore redemand the same, if I be constrained to doe it, either by necessitie, or for his sake, of whom I must require it. A certaine familier of Tiberius Caesar, pretēding some sute vnto him in the beginning of his Empire, beganne his speech thus: Sir remember you not? to which he answered before hee vttered any further tokens of their former and ancient friendship, I remember not what I was. From such as this Prince was, not only should a good man forbeare to aske recompence of former curtesies, but also hee ought to de­sire and procure that he might forget them vtterly. He disdained the memorie and knowledge of all those persons, who he reputed either for his friends, or e­qualls, before his Empire, his only desire was tha [...] they should respect that pre­sent fortune and authoritie, wherein he was placed, that only would he haue to be thought vpon, that only to be spoken of, he reputed his ancient friend for a busie Inquisitor. It is better to redemand a pleasure thou hast done in times past in time and place, then to require and craue anew. Moderation of words is to bee vsed, that the vngratefull man, wha [...]soeuer cannot pretend to haue for­gotten them. If we liued amongst men of science and conscience, we might hold our peace and exspect, and yet it were better to giue them notice of our affaires, and the estate of our necessities. We pray vnto the gods, who know all things, our praiers obtayne not that which wee demand, they only aduertise them of that which we would intreat at their hands. That Priest which speaketh in Ho­mer, [Page 112] representeth vnto the gods the honour which was done vnto them: and those Altars which were deuoutly addressed, and dressed for them, to the end they might bee fauourable to his petitions, and attentiue to his praiers. It is a second vertue, both to be willing, to be admonished, and to be able to entertaine good aduertizements. The mind is to be reigned softly this way and that way, few there are that are perfectly gouerned by the same, but they that by honest aduertisements returne into the right way, hold the second place; and from these we ought not to take the guide that conducteth them. The eyes that are shut haue a sight, but without vse, which then grow in vse, when the day-light which the goddes send vs) calleth them forth and awakneth them to performe their offices. Instruments and tooles lie by and serue no vses, except the worke­man moue them, and employ them in his labour: meane while there is a good will in his soule, but either idlenesse or delight benummeth it, or the ignorance of his art makes him erre. The will is to be awakened, least it languish in error. Wee ought therefore to amend our will, and not to suffer it through despite to languish long time in error: but following the cu­stome of Schoole-masters, who instruct yong children, we ought patient­ly to endure, and discreetly to pardon them, if they haue forgotten any thing through defect of memorie. And euen as in telling them a word or two, they fashion them to construe their whole lesson: so by some little admonition we ought to reclaime such as are forgetfull, and fashion them to acknowledge a Benefit.

The end of the fift Booke.

LVCIVS ANNAEVS SENECA Of Benefits. THE SIXT BOOKE.

The Argument of IVSTVS LIPSIVS.

AGaine continueth he his questions after the maner of CHRYSIPPVS. First he enquireth whether a benefit may be taken away? he differently dispu­teth thereupon, yet concludeth that the vse thereof may be taken away, but not the benefit it selfe. His second question is, whether we be indeb­ted to him, who either profited vs willingly or ignorantly? he denieth. His third is, whether we be obliged to him that profited vs for his owne sake? if only for himselfe, he denieth it; but if for mine also, he admitteth it. He mixeth subtilties with examples. The fourth is, whether it be lawfull to wish another man an euill turne, to the end thou mayest restore him his benefit? it is not lawfull, and he condemneth it. He ope­neth another way of restitution, euen to those that are happie, yea to Kings, by counsailes, admonitions, and doctrines.

CHAP. I.

THere are some things (my Liberalis, the worthiest of men) which are only drawne in question to ex­ercise the spirit, and haue no vse in them. There are other things also, which not onely moue de­light, whilest they are disputed vpon, but after they are debated, are greatly profitable vnto vs. I will present thee with all sorts of them. Thou mayest as it pleaseth thee aduise me, either whe­ther I shall finish those that are begunne, or that I present them only on the Theater, for show and ostentation sake: and although thou comman­dest them to be incontinently relieued, yet will there some profit arise thereby: for although there are some things which are vnnecessarie to be spoken of, yet it auaileth vs somewhat to know them. I will therefore be at thy disposition and becke, and shape my proceedings according to thy pleasure: some will I debate vpon more amply, other some will I cast out headlong from off this Theater.

CHAP. II.

THe question is whether a benefit may be taken away. Some de­nie that it may, for a benefit is nothing but an action, euen as the gife is one thing, and the giuing another, and he that saileth one thing, and the Nauigation it selfe another thing. And although the sicke man be not without sicknesse, yet is not he that is sicke and the sicknesse it selfe all one: so the benefit it selfe is one thing, but that which commeth to each one of vs by the benefit, is another thing. A benefit is a thing incorporeall, which cannot be frustrated, the matter thereof is tossed hither and thither, and changeth his master. When therefore thou takest the same away, Nature it self cannot vndoe those things she hath done. She stoppeth the course of her benefits, but cutteth them not off. He that dieth, yet hath liued, & he that hath lost his sight, hath formerly seene. It may be brought to passe, that those things that are come to vs may not be, but that they may not haue bin, it is im­possible; but the part of the benefit, and the most certaine is that which was. Somtimes we hinder the vse and long possession of a benefit; the benefit it selfe cannot be r [...]zed out. Though nature summon al her forces to this end, yet hath shee no power ouer that which is past. Thou mayest take away the house thou gauest me, the money thou lendest me, the slaue I bought, and whatsoeuer else, wherein the name of a benefit consisteth, but the benefit it selfe is stable and im­mutable, no force can effect this, that the one hath not giuen, and the other hath not receiued.

CHAP. III.

MARCVS ANTONIVS (as the Poet This was a noble Poet that wrote the Ciuill wars, and com­mended by O­uid. Rabirius setteth it downe) seeing his fortunes translated to Augustus, and that no other re­fuge was left him, but the priuiledge of death, and that that also (except he tooke hold of the present occasion) would quickly be taken from him, cried out in my opinion most heroically.

That onely now I haue,
Which I to others gaue.

O how much might he haue had if he would? These are the most assured ri­ches which will continue at one stay, in whatsoeuer inconstancie and leuitie of humane fortune, which the greater they be, the lesse enuie will they haue. Why art thou so sparing of that thou hast, as if it were thine owne? thou art but For­tunes factor. All these things which thus puffe vs vp, that emflame vs with pride, that seeme to make vs more then men, cause vs to forget frailtie. These therefore which you keepe within iron walles, with armed hands, these goods which you haue purchased with other mens bloods, and defended with your owne, for which you rigge forth whole nauies to staine the seas with blood, for which you beleager Cities, and yet ignorant, what store of weapons Fortune hath prepared against those, who are opposed against her. These for which two [...]m [...]itiou [...] pretenders of Empire (the lawes of affinitie, friendship and confe­d [...]acie being broken) haue so oftentimes caused the world to bee so crushed [Page 115] and confounded, are not yours; they are but as things in trust left in your hands, and shall suddenly be translated to another master. All greatnesse is transitori [...], the perdurable good is least appre­hended. That enemie, from whom you haue pillaged them, or some successour of his enmitie and hatred shall come and force them from thee. Askest thou me how thou mayest make them thine owne? I answere thee, by well bestowing them. Be prouident there­fore in thy affaires, purchase vnto thy selfe an assured possession of those things which ca [...] neuer bee taken from thee: thy riches shall not onely bee more se­cure, but also more honest: that which thou admirest and prisest so much, that which in thy iudgement maketh thee rich and powerfull, as long as thou detai­nest it in thy hands, retaineth no other title but the villanous name of auarice, as for example, thy house, thy slaue, thy money; but after thou ha [...]t giuen them, they are accounted and reckoned for benefits.

CHAP. IIII.

THou confessest (saith he) that sometimes we are not obliged and indebted to him, of whom we haue receiued a benefit: Ergo, it is taken from vs. There are many causes which discharge vs of the obligation, whereby we are tied for the good we haue recei­ued, not for that it is violently taken from vs, but because it is corrupted by another meanes. A certaine man defendeth mee, being ac­cused and guiltie of some capitall crime, and afterwards vseth infamous vio­lence to my wife, and rauisheth her; he hath not taken away the good that hee did me, but opposing an equall iniurie to the same, he dischargeth mee of my debt; and if he hath hurt me more then he profitted me before, the good turne is not only extinguished, but I haue free libertie both to complaine, and to re­uenge, where, in comparison of the benefit, the iniurie ouer-weigheth it: so the benefit is not taken away, but ouerpressed and drowned. What? are not some fathers so hard hearted and wicked, that it is both lawfull and rightfull to loath and shunne them, and not to acknowledge them? haue they therefore taken from them that which they gaue them? nothing lesse, but the impietie of suc­ceeding times, hath taken away the commendation of euery former office and kindnes: the benefit is not taken away, but only the thankes, which ought to be acknowledged for the same, and it is brought to passe, not that I haue it not, but that I owe it not. If a man lend me money, and afterwards burne my house, his debt is satisfied by my damage; I haue not paid him, & yet I owe him nothing. Euen so stādeth the case here: though a man hath done me some friendly good turne, though he hath dealt with me somewhat liberally, yet if afterwards he many wayes vse me proudly, contumeliously & cruelly, he hath left me at that stay that I am, as free from him, as if I had neuer receiued any thing at his hands, for the fault is his owne, and he himselfe hath violated his owne benefits. The Land-lord cannot constraine his tenant to pay his rent (although the deeds re­maine in force vncancelled) if he treade downe his corne, fell downe his fruit-trees, not because hee hath receiued that which hee couenanted, but for that he himselfe is the cause that his tenant cannot satisfie him. So is the creditour oftentimes endamaged towards his debter, if he take more for some other pre­text, then that which he lent did amount vnto. The Iudge sitteth not betweene the creditour and debter to say only this, Thou hast lent him money: what then? thou hast driuen away his cattell, murthered his seruant, taken possession [Page 116] of his land, which thou neuer payedst for; when all these things shall bee well considered of and valued: depart thou a debter, who camest a creditour. There is therefore a iust rating and valuation betwixt benefits and iniuries to be made. Oftentimes the bene [...]it remaineth, and we are not obliged to satisfie the same, if he that gaue it repented himselfe afterwards, if he say he was vnhappy in that he gaue the same, if when he gaue he sighed, or bent his browes, if he beleeue he hath lost and not giuen: if he hath done it for his owne profit, or [...] least not for mine? if hee hath not ceased to insult, bragge and boast euery where, and make his benefit bitter and distastfull to the receiuer. The benefit therefore re­maineth, although it be not due, euen as certaine moneyes are due, but not ex­acted, because the creditor hath no law to recouer them.

CHAP. V.

THou gauest a benefit, and afterwards diddest an iniurie, there is both a thankes due to the benefit, and a reward for the iniurie, for I owe him no thankes, nor he me any punishment, the one sa­tisfieth the other. When we say, I haue satisfied his benefit, we say not thus, that we haue restored that which we receiued, but this for that; for to restore, is to giue one thing for another. Why not? because euery payment restoreth not the same, but as much in value: for we are said to haue satisfied our debt, although we haue paid siluer for gold, and although we pay no money at all, but either by assignement to other, or by way of exchange we make our satisfaction. Me thinkes thou tellest me that I lose my labour: for what profiteth it me to know, whether that which is not due remaineth still in obligation? These are but impertinent subtilties of the Lawyers, who say that no man can acquire the possession or dominion of an inheritance, but onely the goods thereof, as if the heritage were ought else, then those things which are in the inheritance? I had rather thou shouldest distinguish me this (which may be pertinent to the matter) namely, when as the same man had done me a courte­sie, and afterwards offered me an iniurie, whether I ought to requite his kind­nesse and notwithstanding reuenge my selfe for the iniurie offered me, and make a seuerall satisfaction, as it were, for two different debts, or recompence the one with the other, and not to take any more care of it, so as the benefit be ta­ken away by the iniurie, and the iniurie by the benefit. For I see that this is obserued in the Courts of pleas, what the resolution of your Schoole is, you your selues know. The actions are seuerall, and conformably to the course of our pleadings, so answerably are wee dealt withall. For otherwise there should be a great confusion in the Iudgement-seat and course of law: if he that should leaue in my custodie goods or money in trust, should afterwards steale from me, I should enter my sute of felonie against him, and contrariwise he pleade a­gainst me, for the money left in trust with me.

CHAP. VI.

THose examples (my Liberalis) which thou hast proposed, are con­tained vnder certaine lawes which we must needs follow, for one law is not confounded with another, each one keepeth his one way. As for the matter in trust, there is a distinct action, so is there also for the theft. A benefit is not subiect to any law, only I that receiued the same, am the arbitrarie Iudge thereof: I haue authoritie to compare together, how much good another man hath done mee, or what da­mage I haue receiued by him: whether I be indebted more vnto him, or he ob­liged more to me. In iudging by law and ordinances I haue not any power, thi­ther must we go, whither they leade vs. But in matter of benefit, all the power and priuiledge is mine owne, and therefore I iudge them, and separate not the actions, I summon the benefits and iniuries before one Iudge: otherwise thou shouldest command me at one and the same time, to loue and hate one and the same person, to complaine of him, and to giue him thanks, which nature cannot permit: nay rather by comparing the benefit and wrong together, I shall see whether any thing be owing me of surplusage. Euen as he that imprinteth o­ther lines aloft vpon my writings, taketh not away the former letters, but only raceth and hideth them. Euen so an iniurie that succeedeth a benefit, blemish­eth it so, that it cannot appeare.

CHAP. VII.

THy countenance (to whose direction and becke I submitted my selfe) beginneth to frowne, and thou bendest thy browes vpon me, as if I strayed from my purpose, mee thinkes I heare thee say:

Whether so farre disioyned from the port,
Dost thou vpon thy right hand saile before?
Ply hitherwards, vnto this hauen resort,
And leaue the maine, and loue and like the shore.

Pardon me, I can keepe no neerer. If therefore thou thinkest that I haue satis­fied and sufficiently debated on this matter: let vs passe onward to the other, and examine whether wee bee indebted to him that hath done vs a pleasure a­gainst his wil. I might speak this more plainly, but that the proposition ought to be more confused, to the end that the distinction which followeth presently af­ter, should shew that we dispute both the one & other point: that is to say, whe­ther we are bound vnto him that hath procured our good, and meant it not, and also whether we be beholding to him, that hath done vs good, and knew it not. For if any man by compulsion hath shewed vs any kindnes, it is a matter so ma­nifest that he obligeth vs not, that there need no words to be spent to this pur­pose. And the said question may easily be answered, and whatsoeuer may b [...]e obiected of the same nature, if we often conuert our thoughts to this generall principle. That there is no benefit but that which is accompanied with a good thought towards vs; and such a thought and intent likewise, as is both friendly and bountifull. And therefore we thanke not the riuers although they beare [Page 118] great ships, and with a large and perpetuall chanell, fleete along to furnish vs with commodities, and although wooing the wondring eye, and full of daintie [...]ish, they steale along and moisten our fatned fields: neither will any man iudge that he is indebted to Nilus, or displeased therewith, if it hath ouer-flowed and drowned his la [...]d, or too slowly growne to ebbe: neither doth the winde be­friend vs, although it blow a gentle and prosperous gale, nor the victuals we eat, although they bee profitable and holsome. For hee that properly, will giue a benefit, must not only profit me, but haue a will to doe me good. Therefore men are not indebted to dumbe beasts, yet how many hath the swiftnesse of a horse deliuered out of danger? nor to trees, and yet how many troubled with heat hath the shadow of their branchie armes deliuered and couered from the scortching Sunne? what concerneth it me whither he that did me good, know not that hee doeth it, or bee not able to know it, when both of them wanted will to doe it? And what difference is there, whither you command me to owe a benefit to a ship, or a chariot, or a speare, or to such a one, who, as these, had no purpose to doe good, but was profitable vnto me only casually?

CHAP. VIII.

A Man may receiue a benefit vnwittingly, but no man doth good without knowing of the same: Euen as many men haue been hea­led of their infirmities, by some casuall accident, and yet for all that they are no true remedies: As some men haue recouered their health by falling into a Riuer in an exceeding cold day: As a quartaine ague hath beene driuen from some men by whipping, and a sodaine fright hath dis­appointed the exspected houre of an ague, by fixing the imagination on an o­ther distastfull euill, and yet none of these, although they haue beene the cause of recouerie, can be said but to bee a soueraigne remedie, so some men profit vs while they would not, or rather because they will not doe vs good, yet are wee not indebted to them for the benefit. What if fortune hath altered their per­nicious counsailes, and drawen them to a better end? Supposest thou that I am any waies bound vnto him, whose hands striking at me, light vpon and hit mine enemie: who would haue hurt me, except hee had swarued? Oft-times a wit­nesse whilest hee manifestly forsweareth himselfe, hath detracted from their credit who were true witnesses, and hath made the Iudges to commiserate the prisoner, supposing that it was but some slanderous circumuention and conspi­racie. Oft-times the very great power and authoritie of the aduersarie, hath de­liuered the delinquent out of the Iudges hands, who would not condemne him vpon the credit and fauour of the accuser, which otherwaies they had conuicted by the iustice of the cause. Yet did not these giue a benefit, although they pro­fited, for the question is, whereat the dart was aimed, not where it lighted, and it is the minde, and not the euent, which distinguisheth a benefit from an iniu­rie. Mine aduersarie, while [...]t he speaketh contraries, and offendeth the iudge by his pride, and rashly dismisseth one of his best witnesses, giueth great aduantage to my cause. I aske not whither he erred to pleasure mee, because his intention was to hurt me.

CHAP. IX.

VErily, to approue my selfe gratefull, it behoueth me to haue a will to doe that which he hath done: if he would that I should take it for a benefit, he ought to haue a will and intent. For what is more vniust then that man who hateth him, that hath kicked him in a throng, or soiled him with dirt, or thrust him thither, whither he would not? But what other thing is there that may exempt him from the blame whereas there is an iniurie in the action, then that hee knew not what hee did? The same thing that priuiledgeth the one from being iudged to haue done in­iurie, exempteth the other also from being thought to haue done a pleasure. It is the will that maketh vs either friends or enemies. How many hath sicknesse discharged from warfare? Some haue beene letted from being oppressed with the ruine of their owne houses, by keeping their day of appearance at the sute of their enemies. And some by shipwrack haue escaped the hands of Pyrates, yet are wee not obliged to these misfortunes for any benefit, because casuall e­uents haue no correspondencie with amitie; nor to our enemie, who would trouble vs by processe, and detaine vs vnder arrest. It is no good deede that proceedeth not from a good will, except he that gaue it acknowledge it. Hath a man pleasured me and know not of it, I owe him nothing? Did he doe me good when he would haue hurt me: I will doe the like to him.

CHAP. X.

LEt vs returne againe to the first point: Thou wilt that (to the in­tent I should be thankefull) I should doe somewhat, and yet hee that did me kindnesse, [...]ath done nothing. Let vs speake now of the second. Thou wilt haue me very forward to gratifie him wil­lingly, although in the giuing he had no good will or intention to giue. For what shall I say of the third, whose iniurie is exchanged into a bene­fit? If thou wilt haue me to owe thee a good turne, it is not enough for thee to be only willing to doe mee good: but to make mee vnbeholding to thee, it is e­nough that thou meanst it not towards me. For the bare will cannot make a benefit. But euen as that should not be a benefit, if a good and free will were abandoned by fortune; so likewise is it not a benefit, if the will marcheth not be­fore the fortune. For if thou wilt haue mee beholding to thee, thou must not only doe me good, but also thou must doe it with a will to profit.

CHAP. XI.

CLEANTHES vseth this exampl [...], I sent, saith he, two [...] the Academie to seeke out Pl [...]to, and to bring him [...] one of them sought him out in all the Galleries and Porches, where he was wont to walke, and ranne through all other pl [...]s wherein he had any hope to finde him out, and at length b [...]ing wearie with his way, and frustrate of his hope, returned home. The other stood gasing at the next Iugler, or mounte-banck, or whilst he wandreth vp and dow [...] [Page 120] and plaieth with his fellowes and companions, seeth Plato passing by, and found him whom he sought not. I, saith Cleanthes, wil commend that Boy who perfor­med that he was commanded, to his vttermost and will chastise that other who was more fortunate in lazinesse. It is the will that is the lawfull Mistris of these actions, the condition whereof must be considered, if thou wilt haue me to bee thy debter. It is a small matter to wish a man well, except thou pleasure him; It is a small matter to haue pleasured, except thou hadst a will to doe it. For put ease a man had a will to giue, yet gaue not, vndoubtedly I haue his hart, but not his benefit which consummateth and perfecteth both the thing and the will. E­uen as I owe him nothing that would haue trusted mee with his money but did not: so will I be a friend, but not obliged to him, that would haue done mee a curtesie but could not: and I shall haue a will to do him good, because he had a wil to pleasure me. Notwithstanding if fortune be so fauorable vnto me, as that I may haue the meanes to giue him any thing, it shall not be to gratifie his curte­sie but to giue him a benefit. It shall be his dutie to yeeld me thankes, and the beginning of the debt shall be deriued from me.

CHAP. XII.

I Perceiue now already what thou meanest to demand: thou nee­dest not to tell me, thy lookes expresse thy thoughts. Are we in­debted in any sort to him (sayest thou) who, to profit himselfe, hath done vs a pleasure? For of this thing oft-times I heare thee complaine, that there are some men, who reckon that kindnesse to be done vnto another, which they giue to themselues. I will satisfie thee here­in, my Liberalis: but first of all I will diuide this little question into two parts, and separate that which is iust from that which is vniust. For there is a great difference whether a man giueth vs a benefit for his owne sake, or for our be­hoofe, or for his owne and ours. He that solely respecteth his owne commodi­tie and profit, and profiteth vs notwithstanding (because otherwise he cannot further himselfe) seemeth, in my iudgement, to be all one with him who pro­uides prouender and sommer-fodder for his cattell; or him that feedes his cap­tiues liberally, to the end they may be the better solde; or him that fa [...]ens and curries his Oxen, to make them more vendible; or that Master of skirmish and defence, who exerciseth his family of Fencers with great care, & adorneth them most diligently, to the end they may get him [...]ntenance. There is a great dif­ference (as Cleanthes saith) betwixt a benefite and a negotiation or bargaining.

CHAP. XIII.

AGaine, I am not so neglectfull or euill, as to forget my acknow­ledgement towards him, who in being profitable vnto me, was as prouident and carefull to procure his owne good. For I do not exact this [...] that without respect of his own estate, he should aduance mine: but rather I wish that the benefite which is gi­uen me, should most of all redound to his profit that gaue me the same. As long as he that gaue the same had a respect vnto two in giuing it, & diuided the same betwixt himselfe and me, although he for the most part possest the s [...]me, if hee [Page 121] admit me as a co-partner with him, if hee thought on two: I am not onely vn­gratefull but vniust, except I reioyce that hee found profit by that which was profitable to me. It is an effect of excessiue malice, not to call that a benefite, ex­cept it be such a thing as returneth the giuer thereof some incommoditie. I will answer him after another manner, who giueth the benefit for his own sake: Why wilt thou say that thou hast rather profited me, then I pleasured thee? Put case (saith he) that I cannot otherwise obtaine a Magistraci [...], except I re­deeme ten captiue citizens, amongst a number of others that are in thraldome and seruitude: shalt thou owe me nothing when I haue deliuered thee from ser­uitude and bonds? yet will I doe this for mine owne sake. To this I answere: Herein doest thou somewhat for thine owne sake, and somewhat for mine. It is for thine owne sake that thou redeemest me, and for my sake that thou chusest me. For it is enough for thee in regard of thine owne profit, to haue redeemed any whatsoeuer. I therefore am indebted to thee, not because thou hast redee­med me; but because thou chosest me: for thou mightst haue attained as much by another mans redemption, as thou dost by mine. Thou diuidest with me the profit of the thing, and makest me partner of that benefit which should profit two. Thou preferrest me before others, thou doest all this for my sake: if there­fore the redemption of tenne Captiues should make thee Pretor, and we were only ten Captiues, none of vs should any waies be indebted vnto thee, because thou shouldest haue nothing that were with-drawne from thy profit, that thou mightest impart to any of vs. I am no malitious interpreter of a benefit, neither desire I that the pleasure should redound only to my selfe, but to thy selfe likewise.

CHAP. XIIII.

WHat therefore (saith he) if I had commanded all your names to be cast into lots, and your name amongst the number of such as were to bee ransommed, were admitted to passe, shouldest thou owe me nothing? vndo [...]btedly I should be indebted vnto thee but very little. And what this is I will let thee know, thou doest some-what for my sake, because thou admittest me to the fortune of redempti­on [...] because my name was registred amongst the rest. I owe this to fortune that my name was drawne amongst the rest, to thee that it might be drawne. Thou gauest me an entrance to a benefit, the greater part whereof I owe vnto fortune [...] but the abilitie I had to be indebted to fortune, that owe I to thee. As for those who set saile on those curtesies they do to others, I wil wholly ouer-passe them: because they respect not to whom they giue, but for what aduantage they gaue, and such a benefit as this retourneth euery way to his hands that gaue the same. A certaine man hath sold me corne. I cannot liue except I buy the same, yet am I not obliged to him for my life because I bought the same: neither estimate I how necessarie it was without which I could not liue, but how freely it was be­stowed, which I should not haue had except I had bought it. In the conuey­ance whereof vnto me, the merchant thought not how much succours he should bring me, but how much profit he should breede vnto himselfe. That which I bought I owe not.

CHAP. XV.

IN this manner (saith he) thou wilt say that thou art no wayes in­debted to the Physitian, except it be for some small fee, nor to thy master, because thou hast paid him some money: but amongst vs we yeeld them much reuerence, and offered them more loue. To this I answere, that there are some things more precious then we prize them. Thou buyest at the Physitians hands an inestimable treasure, to wit, thy life and health: from thy master and instructer in good Arts, liberall studies, and the certanie ornaments and riches of thy minde. To these therfore we pay not the price of that they giue vs, but the reward of their labours, be­cause they serue vs, and abandon their owne particular affaires to intend ours. They receiue the reward, not of their merit, but of their trauaile. Another an­swere may be giuen to this, more answerable vnto truth, whereof hereafter I will intreate, when I haue first of all made it apparant how this may be dispro­ued. Certaine things (saith hee) are more worth then they were sold for, and therefore although they are bargained for and bought, thou owest mee some­what ouer and besides for them. First of all, what skilleth it how much they are worth, when as both the buyer and seller are agreed vpon the price? Againe, he sold it not at his own price and valuation, but at thine: it is more worth (saith he) then it was sold for; but it could not be sold for more. And the time is it that giueth the price vnto all things, when thou hast praised them to the vtter­most, they are worth but as much as may be gotten for them; besides, he oweth nothing to the seller, that hath bought it cheape: moreouer, although these things are more worth, yet is it no thankes to thee, considering that the estima­tion of these things dependeth not vpon the vse and effect of them, but vpon the custome and scarcitie of them. What pay dost thou allot him that crosseth the seas, and hauing lost the sight of land, cutteth thorow the middest of the waues an assured and direct course, and foreseeing future tempests, euen then when there is greatest appearance of securitie, commandeth suddenly to strike the sailes, to stoope the top-sailes, and to be addressed to endure the sudden assault of a storme? yet pay we the reward of so great a merit, no otherwise then with an ordinarie fare. How much valuest thou a lodging in a desert, a sheade in a shower, a stoue or fire in cold weather? yet know I how much I shall pay for this, when I come to mine Inne. How greatly befriendeth he vs, that keepeth our house from falling, that vnderproppeth it with great cunning, and vphol­deth it in the aire, being cle [...]t and winde-shaken from the very foundation: yet neither the supporting nor vndersetting cost me very much. The wall of a Citie keepeth vs in safetie from our enemies, and the sudden incursion of theeues. Yet is it well knowne what wages the Mason deserued by day, that builded those faire Towers and strong Bulwarkes, that were raised for the pub­like securitie of the inhabitants.

CHAP. XVI.

IT were an endlesse matter for me, if I should gather together those plentie of examples, whereby it might appeare that there are great and precious things, which cost vs very little. What then? why is it that I owe some great matter to my Physitian and Master, and faile in the satisfaction of that which they haue worthily deserued? Because, of a Physitian and Schoole-master they become our friends, and oblige vs not by the Art they sell vs, but by their gracious and familiar good will. To the Phy­sitian therefore (who doth no more then touch my purse, and numbreth me a­mongst one of those his patients, whom he ordinarily walketh to, and visiteth, prescribing me without any particular affection, what I ought to do, and what I ought to eschew:) I owe no more, and am no whit indebted: because he visiteth mee not as a friend, but for that I had enioyned him to come vnto me: neither haue I cause to reuerēce my Master, if he hath made no more accoūt of me, then of one of his ordinarie schollers, if he thought me not worthie of priuate & pe­culiar care; if he haue neuer setled his thoughts vpon me, and when generally he imparted his knowledge to the rest of his schollers, I rather gathered from him, then learned of him. What is the cause then, why I should owe so much vnto these? Not because that which they sold is more worth then we bought, but because in particular they haue giuen vs something ouer-plus. This Physi­tian bestowed more labour on me then he was bound to doe, he had more care of me then of his reputation and credit, he not onely contented not himselfe to prescribe me remedies, but also vouchsafed to apply and minister them. In the meane while hee sate carefully by mee, and succoured mee, and preuented the suspected time, and rigor of my accesse, no office distasted him; no paine disliked him, if he had seene me bemoane my selfe, he was sorrowfull. Amongst all those that called him, he had a particular care of me, he implied no other time in visi­ting the rest of his sicke patients, then such wherein my infirmitie remitted and gaue him oportunitie. To this man I am not tied, as to a Physitian, but as to a friend. Againe, that other Schoole-master tooke great care and paines in tea­ching and instructing me; and besides those lessons and common lectures which he communicated to all particularly, he reformed me in some points of impor­tance, he quickened my spirits by good exhortation, and sometimes by praises he animated mee in my studies, and sometimes by admonitions discussed my sloth. Furthermore (if I may so speake it) he by the hand of his industrie drew out and whetted my hidden and heauie wit, too much drowned in the prison of my bodie, neither lingeringly and subtilly dispensed hee his knowledge, to the end I might haue longer vse and need of him, but desired, if he might, to com­municate vnto me at one instant, all that which he knew. Vngratefull am I, ex­cept I loue him as one of my most gratefull and truest friends.

CHAP. XVII.

WE allow alwaies somewhat (ouer and aboue the ordinarie rate we buy at) to merchants and sailers (euen in the most mechanique and basest trades and offices) if we perceiue some extraordinarie diligence in the seruice we employ them in, and to the master of a ship and workman of a base price, how base soeuer they be, al­though they be but day-hirelings, we allow some ouer plus aboue his pay. Vn­thankfull then is he, that in the best Arts, which either preserue or adorne mans life: that supposeth himselfe to be no more indebted, then for that he couenan­ted. Adde hereunto that the tradition of such studies vniteth and allieth minds together, when this is done, both the Physitian and the Schoole-master haue receiued the reward of their labour, but their affections and good minds rest yet vnsatisfied.

CHAP. XVIII.

WHen Plato had crossed a certaine riuer in a ferry-boate, and the fer­ry-man had exacted nothing for his passage, supposing that it had beene done for his honors sake, he said vnto the ferry-man, that Plato ought him a good turne; but anone after perceiuing, that with no lesse diligence he freely transported many others: Friend, said he, thou hast now discharged mee of that obligation, whereby I held my selfe tied and bound vnto thee. For to the end to make me thy debter, for any thing thou gi­uest me, thou art bound not only to giue it me, but to giue it me solely, as to my selfe: For that which thou giuest vnto a multitude, thou hast no reason to rede­mand at a priuate mans hand. How then? Is there nothing due for this? no­thing, as for one in particular, I will pay with all that I owe thee withall.

CHAP. XIX.

THou deniest then (saith he) that he giueth me a benefit, that freely and without recompence transported mee ouer the riuer of Poe. True it is he doth me some good, but hee giueth me no benefit, for he doth it for his owne sake, or at least-wise not for mine. In summe, neither doth he himselfe iudge that he giueth mee a be­nefit, but he doth it either for the Common-weales sake, or for his neighbours sake, or for his owne ambition sake; and for this expecteth he some certaine o­ther commoditie, then that which hee is to receiue from euery priuate person. What then (saith he) if a Prince should giue immunities to all French-men, As Claudius did at that time, Seneca wrote this. and discharge all Spaniards of paying tribute, should not euery one of them in this case be particularly bound vnto him? Why should they not be obliged? vn­doubtedly they cannot be otherwise, yet not for a particular, but for a part of a publike benefit. But (sayest thou) he neuer thought on me. At that time when he did so much good vnto all men; he had no particular intent to giue mee the Citie, neither addressed he his purposes to my profit: wherefore then should I be obliged to him in any thing, who no wayes thought on mee at such time as [Page 125] he was to act that which he intended. First when as he bethought himselfe to do good vnto all the Gaules, he though [...] also of me, because I was a Gaule, and comprehended me, although not by my proper name, yet vnder the publique name of the nation. Againe, I shall not be tyed vnto him, as if the good were properly and particularly mine, but as one that partaked his fauour amongst the comminaltie. I will not satisfie as in mine owne behalfe; but I will contri­bute as for the common good of my countrey.

CHAP. XX.

IF a man l [...]nd a summe of money to my countrey, I will not say that I am indebted to him, neyther will I acknowledge it as my debt, although I sued for a publique office, neyther also if I were sued as a debtor; yet will I contribute my part in payment of this debt. In like sort, I deni [...] that I am debtor for the fauour that is done vnto all my nation, becaus [...] he gaue it me, yet not for me; & in such manner gaue it me, that in giuing the [...]ame he knew not whether he gaue it me, yea or no: yet know I that I must pay some portion thereof, because the good by one meanes or other appertaineth to me, and tyeth me to requite it. It must be done for me that shall oblige m [...]. In the same sort (saith he) neyther owest thou any thing to the Moone or Sunne; for they are not moued for thy sake: but whereas they are moued to this end, that they may preserue all things, they moue for me also, for I am a part of the Vniuerse. Moreouer, our condition and theirs are different: for [...]e that profiteth me, to the intent that by my meanes he may further himselfe, gaue me no benefit, because hee made me the instru­ment of his profit. But the Sunne and Moone, although they do vs good, yet to this end profit they vs not, that by our means they should profit themselues: for what can we be-friend or further them in?

CHAP. XXI.

I Shall know (saith hee) that the Sunne and Moone haue a will to profite vs, if they had the power not to bee willing: but they cannot surcease to stay their motion, n [...]yther can they a­bridge or intermit their accustomed trauell. See by how manie wayes this may be refelled. A man is not therefore the lesse wil­ling, because he cannot be vnwilling, nay, rather it is a great argument of a firm will, not to be able at any time to change. A good man cannot choose but doe that which he doth: for he shall not be a good man except he do it. Therefore a good man bestoweth no b [...]nefit, becau [...]e he doth that which he ought to do, but he cannot do otherwise then that which he ought. Besides, there is much di [...]ference whether thou sayest [...] He cannot chuse but do this because he is com­pelled: or, He cannot be vnwilling to do it. For if he mus [...] [...]edes doe it, I am not tyed vnto him for his benefit [...] but to him that compell [...]d him [...] B [...]t if the ne­cessity of his willingnesse proceed of this, because hee hath nothing better that he can will, then is it he himselfe that compelleth himselfe. And so, looke for what thing I should not haue beene beholding to him, as compelled by others for the same; shall I be beholding to him, as to the compeller of himself [...]. This [Page 126] will make them cease (saith he). I pray you think a little on this matter: What man is he, so voyde of vnderstanding, that will denie that it is no willingnesse in him that acteth any thing, which is not accompanied with danger of impedi­ment in performance, or altering it selfe to the contrary, seeing that on the other side no man may of right seeme so willing, as he whose will is so assuredly cer­taine, that it remaineth eternall and immutable? If he be willing, that may anon after be vnwilling: shall not he be thought to be willing, who is of that nature that he cannot be vnwilling?

CHAP. XXII.

BVt (saith he) let them stand still, and leaue to moue if they can. It is as much as if thou saidst, that these stars which are separated by so great distances the one from the other, that are ranged in so goodly an order; to conserue and intertaine the whole world in his intire, should abandon their places, that the Planets being troubled with a sudden confusion, should interchecke and come one against an other, and hauing broken the repose and concord of all things: that the heauen it selfe should fall into an irreparable ruine, that the course of so violent a swift­nesse, which had promised to be neuer interrupted, should stay in the midst of his way: that the heauen and starres, that moued themselues of late, the one af­ter the other, in so iust a measure, that equally and by agreeable seasons tempe­red the whole world; should be burned and consumed in a sudden flame: that so great a variety of all things should be dissolued & abolished, that they should returne into one, that the fire should seaze all, that afterwards a darksome and heauie night should obscure this world, and that finally a bottomlesse gulfe should deuoure and swallow this great n [...]mber of the goddes. Wee must not admit an euill so pernicious; it must not cost so deere to proue thee a liar. The starres haue power to giue thee all this in d [...]spite of thy selfe: they finish their courses and ordinary reuolutions for thy great profite, although there be ano­ther more great and originall cause that moueth them.

CHAP. XXIII.

FVrthermore adde thou this, that there is not any forraine cause that may constraine the goddes: their eternall and inuiolable will is that which s [...]rueth them for a lawe: they haue established that which they intend not to alter. They therefore cannot seeme to do [...] any thing against th [...]ir will: for whatsoeuer cannot end or cease to be, they would haue to continue still; neyther doe the goddes repent them euer of their first counsels. Vndoubtedly they cannot stand still, or runne a contrary course, yet not for all this doe th [...]y keepe their wonted course out of weakenes, because their owne force keepeth them in the same purpose still; yet obserue they not the same of weakenes, but because it becommeth them not to alter or erre from the best course, and because they haue determined so to goe and shape their courses. Most c [...]rtaine it is, that amongst their first ordinances they established, in disposing all things, they likewise had a care of vs, and con­ceiued some speciall regard of man. They therfore cannot s [...]eme to shape their [Page 127] courses for their owne cause onely, and to accomplish their owne workes for their owne selues, because men also are a part of their worke. We are then obli­ged to the Sun and Moone, and the other powers of heauen for the good they doe vs. For although they haue more greate ends for which they rise and set then onely for vs, yet ayming at greater, they helpe vs also purposely. And for this cause we are obliged vnto them, because we did not light vpon thei [...] bene­fits without their knowledge, to whom they gaue them, but they knew certainly that we should receiue them. And although their intentions be more eminent, and the fruit of their trauell more great and pertinent, then to nourish and con­serue mortall things: yet so it is, that in the [...]irst beginning of the world, they haue imployed their thoughts on our profite, they haue pre [...]ixed such ordi­nances and lawes vnto the heauens, that it euidently appeareth what care they had of vs, and that it was neyther their least nor last. We owe our parents ho­nour and reuerence, yet many of them matched and married without desire to b [...]get children. The gods cannot seeme to bee ignorant of that they ought to do, wheras they haue suddenly prouided vs of nourishm [...]nt, and all other things that are necessary for vs; neyther carelesly created they them, for whom they created so many things. For Nature minded vs before shee made vs: neyther are we a worke of little importance, that she could make vs by chance, as doing something else. See how great a power she hath giuen into our handes: Consi­der how the condition of command, which she hath giuen to man, is not onely ouer men. See what libertie our bodies haue, to wander and trauerse ouer many places. See how she limiteth them not within any certaine bound of land, but sendeth them into all places, yea, into euery corner of the world. Consider the confidence of humane vnderstanding: see how they onely eyther know or seek t [...]e gods [...] and raysing their mindes aloft, they conuerse with, and contemplate those diuine influences continually. Beleeue then that man is not a rash or vn­thought vpon worke. Nature amongst her greatest works hath nothing wh [...]r­of she may more vaunt, or to whom she may vaunt of her workmanship, or that she would replenish with more greate glorie. How great a madnesse is this to call the goddes in question about their owne blessings? How can hee bee thankefull to them, whose courtesies hee cannot requite without charge: who denieth that he hath receiued them from the goddes, which will both giue al­wayes and receiue neuer? What refractary and peruerse minde hath he, that will not be gratefull or beholding to any, because his liberality extendeth to such a one, as denieth the good that is giuen him, and to terme the continuation an immutable order of their benefits, an argument of one that giueth of necessi­tie? and to say [...] I care not for his curtesies, let him keepe them to himselfe, who requi­r [...]th them at his hands? And an infinite sort of other such like purposes, procee­ding from an impudent minde, which thou mayest packe and number with these: yet shall not he deserue the lesse at thy handes, whose beautie redounds vnto thee, euen whilst thou deniest it, and of whose benefits euen this is one of the greatest, that he is readie to relieue thee, euen then when thou complainest most against him.

CHAP. XXIIII.

SEest thou not how parents in their childrens most tender infan­cie, constraine them to suffer those things patiently, which are most healthfull for them? With diligent care they nourish their tender bodies, and still them when they crie, and swathe them when they struggle; and lest continuall slacknesse might make them grow awrie, they binde them straight to make them growe right: when their infancie is past, they present them liberall sciences, threatning them with the rodde if they be negligent: and finally, when they growe to more maturi­tie, they teach them to be sober, and counsell them to doe nothing that should breed their shame: they fashion them in good manners, and if their youth as yet be not lyable to obedience, forcibly they constraine that by awe which counsell could not effect: at last, hauing attained to full growth and maturity, and to haue a feeling of their owne gouernement, if eyther by intemperance or feare, they reiect the counsels and remedies, which are giuen them for their pro­fite, they vse greater violence and seruitude. So that the greatest benefits which we receiue of our parents, is at such time as we know them not, or when we re­fuse them wholly.

CHAP. XXV.

TO this sort of vngratefull men, and such as refuse benefits, not be­cause they desire them not, but for that they would not remaine indebted, they are like, who contrariwise will be ouer-gratefull: who wish that some aduersitie and mishap may befall those to whom they are obliged, to the end they may haue an argument and occasion, to let them know how neeedfull they are of the benefit, and what desire they haue to make restitution. The question is, whether such sort of men doe well to desire and wish the same, and whether their desire be honest? These kind of thankefull men, in my iudgement, resemble them very much, who, in­ [...]lamed with lasciuious loue, doe wish their louer banishment, to the end they might accompanie h [...]r in her distresse and departure: or wish to see her in ne­cessitie, to the end they might relieue her miserie: or to see her sicke, to the end they might sit by her, and tend her: and finally, which vnder profession of loue, do wish whatso [...]uer her enemie would haue wished vnto her. Assuredly the issue of this foolish loue and capitall hate are wel-neare all one. Into this very inconuenience do they fall, who wish that their friends were in miserie, to the end they might afterwards relieue them, and make way to bene [...]iting, by doing them wrong, whereas it w [...]r [...] much better vtterly to desist, then to seeke occasi­on to doe a curtesie by meanes of wickednesse. What if a Master of a Ship should pray the goddes to send them cruell stormes and tempests, that by the danger his Arte might be held more gratious? What if an Emperour should beseech the goddes, that a great multitude of enemies might besiege his camp, and with sudden assault fill full the Trenches, Non sunt facien­da mal [...], vt inde cuenirin [...] bona. and raze downe the Rampiers, and (to the great amaze of his armie) aduance their colours euen in the verie [...]ntrance of his Fortifications, to the end he might receiue more honour and glorie, in succouring his armie in this great danger, and at that verie instant, [Page 129] when his whole campe imagined the field to be lost, and the armie discomfor­ted: all these conuey their benefits by a detestable way, who call the Gods to plague him, whom they themselues would profit, and to hate them, whom they themselues would relieue. Inhumane and peruerse is the nature of this gratefull minde, which wisheth euill vnto him, whom hee cannot honestly for­sake.

CHAP. XXVI.

MY wish (saith he) hindereth him no wayes, because I wish the pe­rill and remedie both at once. This is as much as if thou saidst that thou hast committed some small fault, but that thou sinnest lesser, then if thou shouldest wish him danger without remedie. It is meere wickednesse to plunge a man into a riuer, to the end to draw him out, to ruinate that thou mayest reedifie, to imprison, that thou mayest deliuer. The end of an iniurie is no benefit, neither is it a part of kindnesse to withdraw that from one, which he himselfe had laid vpon him. I had rather thou shouldest not wound me, then that thou shouldest not heale me. Thou mayest deserue my thankes, if thou healest me, because I am woun­ded, but not if thou wound me to the end I may bee healed: the scarre neuer pleased, but in comparison of the wound, for the healing whereof we so reioyce, that we had rather not to haue beene wounded: if thou shouldest wish this vnto him, that had neuer done the good turne, the vow were vnhumane, but how much more inhumane were it to wish it him, to whom thou art indebted for a courtesie.

CHAP. XXVII.

I Wish that (saith he) at one and the same time I may yeeld him some succour. First, that I may preuent thee in the middest of thy wish; thou art alreadie vngratefull. I heare not as yet, what thou intendest to doe for him, yet know I well, what thou wouldest he should endure: Thou wishest that care, feare, or some greater mis­chiefe should befall him, thou desirest that he may want helpe, and this is against him. Thou desirest that he may need thy helpe; this is for thee, thou wilt not succour him, but pay him satisfaction. He that hasteth the matter thus, would himself be paied, not pay. So that the only thing that might seeme honest in thy vow, is vnhonest and vngratefull, to wit, not to be willing to owe any thing. For thou desirest not, that thou mayest haue abilitie to requite a courtesie, but that he may haue need to implore thy helpe. Thou makest thy selfe his superiour, and (which is a hainous wickednesse in thee) thou castest him downe at thy feete, that hath deserued well at thy hands. How much better is it to owe with an honest-good will, then to pay by an euill meanes? If thou shouldest denie that thou hast receiued, thou shouldest sinne lesse, for he should lose nothing more then he had giuen. But now thy intent is, to bring him vnder thy subie­ction, euen with the losse of his owne fortunes, and to be drawne to that disaster by the change of his estate, that he must lie lower then his owne benefit. Wilt thou that I report thee for a gratefull man? Wish it in his presence, to whom [Page 130] thou wilt yeeld profit. Termest thou this a wish, which is as well diuided be­tweene a friend, as an enemie? which vndoubtedly an aduersarie or enemie would haue made, if the latter points only were excepted? Mortall enemies also haue wished, that they might surprise certaine Cities, to the end they might preserue them, and to ouercome some enemie of theirs, to the end they might pardon them: neither therefore are their vowes other then hostile, in which, that which is most courteous and calme, succeedeth crueltie. To conclude, what kind of vowes iudgest thou them to bee, which no man would wish lesse prosperous vnto thee, then hee for whom thou vowest them? Thou dealest most iniuriously with him, to whom thou wishest, that the Gods should hurt, to the end he may be helped by thee; and impiously also with the Gods them­selues, for thou puttest ouer the cruelty to thē, & reseruest the humanity to thy selfe. Shall the Gods be iniurious, to the end thou mayest be courteous? If thou shouldest suborne an accuser, whom afterwards thou wouldest remoue, if thou shouldest entangle him, in some sute of law, to the end thou mightest deliuer and discharge him thereof, there is no man that would grow doubtfull of thy impietie: what difference is there, whether this thing be attempted by fraud or by vow? sauing that thou seekest more powerfull aduersaries for him. Thou canst not say, what wrong haue I done vnto him? Thy vow is either fruitlesse or iniurious, nay rather it is wrongfull, although it be not successefull. What­soeuer thou effectest not, it is Gods mercy, but whatsoeuer thou wishest is meere iniurie. The matter is plaine enough. Wee ought no otherwise to be displea­sed with thee, then if thou haddest effected it.

CHAP. XXVIII.

IF vowes (saith he) had beene any wayes auaileable, they had pre­uailed in this, that thou shouldest be in safetie. First of all, thou wishest me an assured perill, vnder an vncertaine helpe. Againe, suppose both are certaine, yet that which hurteth is formost. Furthermore, thou knowest the condition of thy vow: A tempest hath surprised me, vncertaine of either hauen or helpe. How great a torment supposest thou that it was for me to haue wanted them, although at length I re­couered them? to haue feared, although I bee preserued; come to triall, and drawne in question, although I were acquitted. There is no end of feare so plea­sing, that a solide and vnshaken securitie is not more acceptable: wish that thou mayest restore me a benefit when I haue need; not that I may haue need. If that thou wishest, were in thy power, thou thy selfe wouldest haue done it.

CHAP. XXIX.

HOw farre more honest is this vow? I desire he should continue in that estate wherein he might alwayes distribute benefits, and ne­uer need them. Let the meanes and matter which he so bounti­fully vseth in giuing and assisting, so follow and second him, that he neuer want occasion of giuing benefits; or repent him of that he hath giuen. Let the multitude of gratefull men stirre vp and prouoke his nature (of it selfe prone enough to humanitie) to mercie and clemencie. Whom [Page 131] let him neuer want to befriend, nor haue need to trie. Let him be mercilesse to none, and haue no need of being reconciled to any man. Let Fortune perseuer to be so equally fauourable vnto him, that no man may be gratefull vnto him, but in minde and acknowledgement. How far more iust are these vowes, which deferre thee not in expectation of any occasion, but make thee presently grate­full? For what letteth vs to be thankfull to those that are in prosperitie? How many meanes are there, whereby we may yeeld satisfaction to those to whom we are obliged, although they be happie? Faithfull counsell, diligent conuer­sation, familiar speech and pleasing, without flatterie, eares diligent, if he would deliberate, secret, if he would trust; familiaritie in conuersation. Prosperitie ne­uer raised a man so high, that by so much the rather he had not want of a friend, by how much he had affluence in all things.

CHAP. XXX.

THis hatefull and damnable occasion is euery way to be detested and driuen farre from vs. Must thou needs haue the Gods dis­pleased, to the end thou mayest be gratefull? And vnderstandest thou not, that hereby thou sinnest more, because he to whom thou art vngratefull hath the better fortune? Propose vnto thy minde imprisonment, chaines, stincke, seruitude, warre, pouertie; these are the occasions of thy vow: if any man hath couenanted with thee, by these he is dis­missed. Why rather wouldest thou not haue him mightie and blessed, to whom thou art most indebted? For what (as I said) forbiddeth thee to be gratefull e­uen vnto those that are endued with the happiest estate, whereas thou hast am­ple and seuerall matter and occasion to expresse thy selfe? What that men pay debts euen vnto those that are the wealthiest? neither will I constraine thee a­gainst thy will. Truely, although most powerfull felicitie hath excluded all things, yet will I shew thee what thing it is that greatest estates are poorest in, and what things are deficient to those that possesse all things. Truely such a one that will speake truth, that will vindicate a man astonished and amazed a­mongst flatterers, and drawn from the knowledge of trut, h by the very custome of hearing rather pleasing then profitable counsailes, from the company and consent of deceitfull men. Seest thou not how extinguished libertie and faith transformed to seruile obsequiousnesse, driue them head-long to their ruine, where no man perswadeth or disswadeth him according to his conscience, but each man striueth who may flatter most, and the onely office and contention of all his friends is, who can deceiue him most pleasingly. They knew not their owne forces, and whilest they suppose themselues to be so great, as they heare they be, they brought vpon themselues vnnecessarie warres, and such as should hazard their whole estates, they breake the true and necessarie concord, and fee­ding there own wrathful spleen, which no man reuoked, they drew many mens bloud, being at last like to lose their owne; whilest they seeke to get vncertain­ties for certainties; and thinke it no lesse disgracefull to be perswaded, then to be ouercome, and suppose those things to be perpetuall, which being brought to the highest doe most of all stagger. They ouer-turned great kingdomes vpon themselues and theirs, neither vnderstood they in that stage glistering both with vaine and transitorie goods, from that time forward that they should expect verie great aduersities; since when they could heare nothing that was true.

CHAP. XXXI.

The ruine of greatnesse in the falshood of flat­terers. WHen Xerxes proclaimed warre against Greece, there was no one but enkindled and incited his proud and forgetfull minde, to what fickle and fraile things he trusted. One said that they would not endure the first message of the warre, and that vpon the first ru­mour of his approach, they would turne their backes. Another that it was not to bee doubted, that not onely Greece would be ouercome by that huge multitude, but that it might be ouerwhelmed: that it was more to be feared, lest they should finde their Cities desert and desolate, and the vast so­litudes left to them, and the enemies flying, not hauing no opposite whereon to employ his so puissant power. Another, that the whole world was not sufficient for him, that the seas were to narrow for his Nauie, his campe for his souldiers, the fields to embattell his cauellerie, nay scarce the heauen large enough to containe the shafts that should be darted from euery hand. When after this manner many things were tossed and talked of on euery side, which incited the man, too much enraged and besotted with esteeme of himselfe. De­meratus the Lacedemonian was only he that said, Profitable per­diction of suc­ceeding miserie. that that very multitude so disordered and so mightie, which was so pleasing vnto him, was most of all to be feared by him that conducted them, because they were rather combersome then strong, that ouer great things can hardly be ruled, neither endureth that long, which cannot be gouerned. Presently, said he, vpon the first encounter, the Lacedemonians will come and present themselues vnto thee vpon the first mountaine, that thou wouldest passe, and will make thee know what they are: Three hundred souldiers shall make stand these so many thousand men; they shall plant themselues strongly in the passages, and defend the straits committed to their charge, and stoppe them vp with their bodies: all Asia shall not remoue them from their places. A few men shall sustaine so great affront of warre, and the charge almost of all mankind that intendeth to rush in vpon them. When Nature changing her lawes, hath made thee passe into Greece, thou shalt sticke in the straite, and shalt esteeme thy future damages, when as thou shalt thinke how much the straits of Thermopolis cost thee. Thou shalt know that thou may­est be put to flight, when vnderstandest that thou mayest be stayed. Happily in diuers places they will giue thee passage, and retire, as if carried away after the manner of a torrent, whose first forces ouer-floweth with great terrour, after­wards they shall muster and charge thee on euery side, and shall ouerpresse thee with thine owne power. True it is that is said, that thy shew of warre is greater then these regions can containe, which thou intendest to conquer. But this thing is against vs: for this very cause will Greece ouercome thee, because shee is not able to containe thee, and thou canst not vse thy whole selfe. Moreouer which is the onely safegard of things) thou canst not preuent or be present at the first assaults, neither second those that begin to retreat and decline, neither sustaine and confirme those things that fall to ruine: Thou shalt be vanquished long before thou shalt perceiue thy selfe to be ouercome. Furthermore, thou art not therefore to suppose that thine armie is inuincible for this cause, because the number of them is vnknowne, euen vnto him who is their Leader. There is nothing so great that cannot perish; and though other occasions wanted, yet would the owner thereof be the cause of his owne destruction. The things that Demeratus foretold came truely to passe. He that thought to enforce both hea­uen [Page 133] and earth, and he that changed whatsoeuer withstood him, was driuen to a stand by three hundred souldiers. And so Xerxes being defeated and ouer­throwne on euery side thorow all Greece, began to learne how much difference there was betwixt a multitude and an armie. Xerxes therefore being more mi­serable in his shame then in his losse, gaue Demeratus thankes, for that he alone had told him the truth, and permitted him to require what he would: he desi­red that he might enter Sardis, the greatest citie of Asia, in a Chariot trium­phant, hauing an vpright Tiara on his head, an ornament which the Kings did onely vse to weare. Worthy was he of this reward, before he demanded it, but how miserable was that nation, among whom there was not one man that would speake the truth vnto the King, except he would not speake truth vnto himselfe.

CHAP. XXXII.

THe Emperour Augustus banished and confined his daughter, that was growne so impudentt, hat her modestie exceeded this com­mon course, and blazed abroad the whoredomes of the imperiall house, as how she had admitted whole troups of adulteries; spent the whole night in banquets here and there in the citie, how she had soiled and sinned with her adulterers, in that euery Court and iudgement seate, from whence her father had published lawes against adulteries, her daily haunt and concourse to Marsias s [...]aule, whereas from an adulteresse she became a common strumpet, and required the libertie of all licentiousnesse, vnder an vn­knowne adulterer. These things which a Prince ought as well to conceale, as to punish (because the dishonour and disgrace of some things oftentimes redoun­deth to him who would punish the same) he vnable to conquer his displeasure published abroad. Where good counsell is wan­ting, impatience breedeth reme­dilesse harmes. Afterwards some few dayes past, when remorsefull shame had supplied the place of his displeasure, lamenting that he had not obscured those things in silence, which so long time he was ignorant of, till it was loath­some for him to speake it, he oftentimes exclaimed, None of these things had be­falne me, if eyther AGRIPPA or MECAENAS had liued. So hard a thing is it to him that had so many thousands at his beck, to supplie the want of two. His legions are slaine, and forthwith new are leuied: his Nauie defeated, and with­in few dayes a new floated: fire had defaced and consumed the common buil­dings, and better were raised then those that were burned; but all his life time he could not finde any to supplie Mecaenas or Agrippas places. What shall I thinke? Did there want such to succeede them, or that it was his errour, who had rather complaine then seeke friends? There is no cause we should imagine that Agrippa and Mecaenas were wont to speake truth vnto him, A corrigible cu­stome for great men to eschue. who had they liued, had beene amongst his dissemblers. It is the manner of Kingly dispositi­ons, in contumely of the liuing, to praise those that are lost, and to giue them the honour of speaking truth, from whom they are now out of danger of hearing a­nie more.

CHAP. XXXIII.

A lesson [...]or vp­right Counsellers. BVt that I may returne vnto my purpose: thou seest how easie a thing it is to be thankfull to those that are happie, & are planted in the height of humane riches. Tell them not that which they are willing to heare, but that they should bee contented alwaies to hate. Let somtimes a true word enter their eares which are filled with flatteries: giue profitable counsel. Thou askest what thou maiest doo for a happie man? Bring to passe that he be not too confident in his fortune, that he may know, that manie and faithfull hands must sustaine the same. Is the fauour little thou bestowest of him, if thou shalt once driue him from this foolish con­fidence, that his power shall be alwayes perdureable, and shalt teach him that these things are transitorie, that casually yeelde, and fleete away with greater forwardnesse, then they come, neyther returne by those meanes, whereby they attained their felicitie? That oft-times there is but little difference betwixt the greatest and lowest fortune. Thou knowest not the value of friendship, if thou vnderstandest not, that thou shalt giue him very much to whom thou giuest a friend, Few [...]iends, ma­ny [...]latterers. a thing not onely rare in houses but in ages, which is no where so defici­ent, then where it is supposed to be most abundant. What thinkest thou, that these books of thine, which scarce thy remembrancers, or registred memory, or handes can comprehend, are the names of thy friends? These are not thy friends which in great troupes knocke at thy dores, who are disposed according to the first and second admissions to visit. This is an old custome of Kings, and those that counterfeit Maiestie, to number a multitude of friends. It is the pro­pertie of pride to make great account of his doore, & touch of his threshold, to giue it as a fauour to sit neerest to his closet, that thou step the first foote into his house, in which besides there are many doores, which exclude those that are admitted to enter.

CHAP. XXXIIII.

THe first amongst vs that commanded their troupes should be sepa­rated, and that some should be receiued in secret, other some with manie, and other some with all men, were Caius Gracchus, and after him Liuius Drusus. These therefore had their first friends: they had their second also, but neuer any true. Callest thou him thy friend, whom thy seruants successiuely admit to salute thee; or can this mans faith be apparant vnto thee, who entreth not, but slippeth and throngeth into thy doores, that are so hardly gotten open? May that man presse in to thee with full vse of his libertie, which may not salute thee with God saue thee, a common and vsuall word to all persons, yea, euen to those that are strangers; but in his turne. To whomsoeuer therefore of these thou shalt come, whose salutation shaketh the citie: know thou likewise, if thou marke it, that although thou see the streets besieged with a great assembly of people, and the passages locked vp with the presse of those that go and come to salute thee, yet that thou commest to a place filled with men, but voyde of friends. A friend is sought in the brest, not in the Court of thy house: there must he be entertained, there retained, and in the veryentrails must he be lodged. Teach him this thou art gratefull. Thou [Page 135] esteem [...]st verie basely of thy selfe if thou ar [...] vnprofitable, What true friēds are and wh [...]re they should be [...]ound. except it be to one in affliction, or if th [...] thinke thy selfe vnn [...]cessarie in time of prosperity. Euen as thou demeanest thy selfe wisely both in doubtfull, aduersd, and prosperous affair [...]s, that in doubtfull thou handlest them wisely, in aduerse constantly, in prosperity moderately [...] so likewise maist thou shew thy selfe profitable in all things in thy friends behal [...]e. Although thou neither forsake him in his aduersi­ties, neyther wish his miserie; yet in so much v [...]rietie many things may fall out that thou shouldest not wi [...]h; which will affoord thee mattter to exercise thy faith. Euen as he that wisheth riches to any man, to this end, that he him­selfe may partake a part thereof, although hee seeme to wish for him: hath a respect vnto himselfe. He that reiects his friends mise­rie to the end he may succour him is vngratefull. So he that wisheth his friend any necessitie, which by his assistance and faith hee may releeue (which is the part of an vngratfull man) preferreth himselfe before his friend, and maketh so great accompt, that hee should be miserable, that he him selfe might be gratefull, for this very cause is himselfe vngratefull. For hee would disburthen himselfe, and discharge him­selfe of a burthen too heauie to sustaine. There is a great difference, whether thou hastnest to giue thankes to the end thou maist restore a benefit, or to the end thou mightest not owe it. He that will bee gratefull will apply himselfe to his friends commoditie, and desireth that he may haue a fit opportunitie. He that desireth nothing else, but that himselfe may bee discharged, desireth by anie meanes to accomplish the same, which is an argument of a most euill will.

CHAP. XXXV.

THis to much hastning say I, is the act of an vngratefull man, this can I not more manifestly expresse, then if I should repeat what I said. Thou wilt not restore a benefit thou hast receiued, but thou wilt flie from it. This seemest thou to say: When shall I be rid of this fellow? I must endeuour by all the meanes I can, that I may not be beholding vnto him. If thou shouldest wish that thou mightest pay him with his owne, thou shouldest seeme to bee very dishonest and vnthankfull, but this thou wishest is farre more wicked. For thou cursest him, thou desirest that mischiefe might fall on his head, whom thou shouldest accompt both Holy and Sacred. No Man as I thinke would doub [...] of the impietie of thy minde, if thou shouldest openly wish him pouertie, if captiuitie, if famine and feare. And what differēce is there whether this be thy voice or thy vow? wish any of these in thy right wits. Go to now, and suppose this to be a point of thankfulnes, which the most vngratefull Man would not attempt, that were not growne so farre as to hate but onely to denie his benefit.

CHAP. XXXVI.

WHO would intitle AEneas by the name of pious, The precedent reasons are con­firmed by ex­ample. if hee would haue his Countrie sacked, to the end he might deliuer his Father from captiuitie? who would not imagine the yong men of Sicily vnnaturall, if to shew good example to their children, they had wished that AEtna burning with an vnmeasurable force of fire a­boue [Page 136] custome should giue them occasion to expresse their pieti [...] by carrying a­way their Fathers out of the midst of the fire. Rome is nothing indebted vnto Scipio, if hee wished the continuance of the Carthaginian warres: nor be­holding to the Decians who saued their Countrie by their owne slaughter, if they had formerly wished that extreame necessitie should make place for their constant deuotion. It is the greatest disgrace for a Physition that may bee, to wish for busines. Many who increased and exasperated diseases, to the end they might cure them with greater glorie, could not afterwardes expell them, or to the great agonie and vexation of the miserable patients, haue at last ouercome them.

CHAP. XXXVII.

An other an­swere to the for­mer by the ex­amples of Cali­stratus and Rutilius. THey say that Calistratus (for truly Hecaton testifieth of him) when he departed into exile, into which the seditious and intemperate­ly free Citie, had expulsed many with him: when a certaine man wished, that the Athenians might bee enforced to recall their banished men, was much distasted with such a returne. Farre more manly and full of magnanimitie was that of Rutilius, for when as a certaine man comforted him, and assured him that ciuill warre was intended shortly, and that in few dayes all banishments should bee reuersed. What euill (saith hee) haue I done thee, that thou wishest me a worser returne, then I had a depar­ture? I had rather my Countrie should be ashamed of my banishment, then bewaile my returne. This is no exile where no man is more ashamed thereof, then he that is condemned: euen as they performed the dutie of good Citizens, that would not recouer their natiue homes with a publique slaughter, because it was more fitting that two should be punished vniustly, then all perish publikely; so obser­ueth hee not the affection of a gratefull man, who wisheth that hee who hath deserued well at his handes should bee oppressed with difficulties, which hee might redeeme. Who although hee thinke well, wisheth euill. It is a poore excuse and a weake glorie to extinguish a fire, which thou thy selfe hast kindled. In some Cities a wicked wish hath beene reputed for a wicked crime.

CHAP. XXXVIII.

A third confir­mation h [...]of. TRue it is that Temades in Athens condemned him that sould ne­cessaries for funerals, when as he had prooued that hee wished for great gaine, which could not befall him, except it were by many mens deathes. Yet is it wont to bee demanded whether hee were worthily punished. Perhaps hee wished, that he mi [...]ht not sell vnto many, but that he might sell deere; that they might cost him little which he was to sell. Whereas negotiation consistest on that which is bought and sould, why wrestest thou his vow one way, whereas profit is in both? Besides thou mayest condemne all that are in this negotiation, for all will the same, all wish the same in their hearts: thou wilt condemne the most part of men. For who hath not profit by an other mans incommoditie? The Souldier, wisheth for warre: Dearth of Corne sets vp the Husbandman. The greatest Lawiers desire most pleas. A sicke yeare is the Physitians haruest. Such youthes [Page 137] as are prodigall and dissolute, rich the Merchants of delicate wares. Let houses bee neither hurt by fire or tempest, the Carpenter may betake him to his rest. One mans vowe was excepted at, where all mens are alike. Thinkest thou that Aruntius and Aterius and all others that professed the art of Execu­torship had not the same vowes and wishes, as the masters of funerall Cere­monies and they who were Ministers in burying the dead? yet know not they whose death they wish: they desire that some one of their nearest familiars should die, in whom for friendship sake they had most hope. No man liueth by the losse of those, whosoeuer differreth the other vndoeth them. They there­fore wish, not only that they may receiue that which they haue dese [...]ued by base seruitude, but also that they may bee freed of a gri [...]uous tribute. It is not therefore to bee doubted, but that these men rather wish that which is con­demned in one man. One mans plea­sure is anothers preiudice. They by whose death any profit may accrewe, are hurt­full to them by their life. Yet all these mens vowes are as well knowne as vn­punished. To conclude let each one take counsaile of himselfe and examine his inward conscience, and see what hee hath secretly wished, how many wowes are they which we are ashamed to confesse vnto our selues? how few which wee dare iustifie and effect before a witnesse?

CHAP. XXXIX.

BVt euery thing that is to be reprehended, is not to be condemned as this vow of a friend, whereof at this present we entreat, abusing his good will, and falling into that which hee flieth from. For whilest he hasteneth to expresse a gratefull minde, hee is vngrate­full. This man saith, let him fall into my hands, let him want my fauour, let him neither be secure, in esteeme, or safe without me, let him be so poore and miserable, that whatsoeuer is restored him, may serue him in stead of a benefit. And this in the hearing of the Gods. Let domesticall treasons circumuent him, which I alone may suppresse. Let a potent and heauie enemie assault him, dead­ly foes, and they armed, charge him, a creditor and accuser vrge him.

CHAP. XL.

SEe how iust thou art, It is better ne­uer to be obli­ged, then to re­quite out of sea­son. thou haddest wished him none of these, ex­cept he had giuen thee a benefit. To ouerslip the rest more hai­nous, which thou committest by returning the worst for the best, truely thou art faultie in this, that thou expectest not the proper time of euery thing, which, who so followeth not, sinneth as much as he that preuenteth it. Euen as a benefit is not alwayes to be receiued, so is it not to be restored in all seasons. If thou shouldest restore it me, when I required it not, thou shouldest be vngratefull, how farre more vngratefull art thou, if thou compellest me to desire it? Expect: Why wilt thou not suffer my benefit to rest in thy hands? Why grieueth it thee to be obliged? Why art thou so hastie to leuell thy account with me, as if thou haddest to deale with a cruell Vsurer? Why seekest thou my trouble? Why incensest thou the Gods against me? How wouldest thou exact thy debt, if thou satisfie in this sort?

CHAP. XLI.

Instructions to take oportunitie in requitall. ABoue all things therefore, my Liberalis, let vs learne this to owe benefits securely, and to obserue the occasions of restitution, and not to seeke them, and let vs remember our selues, that this very desire to discharge our selues speedily, is the act of an vngratefull man. For no man willingly restoreth that which he oweth vn­willingly, and that which he repineth to keepe by him, hee rather iudgeth it a burthen then a benefit. How much better and iuster were it, to beare the deserts of our friends in memorie, and to offer them, and not to presse them, nor to thinke our selues too much in their debt, because a benefit is a common bond, and lin [...]keth two together. Say I care not how thy benefit returneth to thee. I desire thou shouldest receiue it cheerefully, if any of vs both be threatned with necessitie, and it be giuen vs by a certaine fate, either that thou be compelled to receiue thy benefit againe, or I to take another; let him giue still that was wont to giue. I am readie, there is no delay in Turnus: I will shew this willing resolu­tion, as soone as time shall happen, in the meane space the gods shall bee my witnesses.

CHAP. XLII.

What means are to be obserued in acknowledging a good turne. OFtentimes, my Liberalis, I am wont to note this affection in thee, and as it were, touch it with my hand, that thou fearest and fret­test, lest thou shouldest be tardie in any office. Anxietie becom­meth not a gratefull mind, but contrariwise an assured confidence of himselfe. The conscience of true amitie should put this care out of our mindes. It is as great a vice to receiue againe that which thou ough­test not, as not to giue that which thou oughtest to giue. Let this be the first law of a benefit giuē, that he which gaue the same, may make choice of the time when he is to receiue it back again. But I feare me, lest men should speak sinister­ly of me: He doth badly that is gratefull rather for reputation & fame sake, then for conscience and honestie. Thou hast two iudges of this thing; thy selfe whom thou canst not deceiue, and him whom thou canst. What then if no occasion shall happen? Shall I alwayes be indebted? Thou shalt be indebted, but open­ly indebted, but willingly indebted, but with great contentment shalt thou be­hold, the gage laid vp by thee. He repenteth himselfe of a benefit receiued, that is sorie that as yet he hath not requited it. Why should hee that seemed wor­thie to bestow a benefit on thee, be roputed vnworthie to haue thee his debter?

CHAP. XLIII.

GReat are their errours, who beleeue it to bee the act of a great and generous minde to doe many courtesies, to giue and fill another mans bosome, and enrich his house, whereas sometime it is not a great minde, but a great fortune that doth it. They know not how much more great and hard a matter it is somewhiles to re­ceiue, then to lauish courtesies. For to the end I may detract from neither, be­cause [Page 139] both of them when they are done out of vertue are equall. It is no lesse proper to a noble hart to owe, then to giue, yet more laborious is this, then that, as the keeping of things receiued requireth more diligence, then doth the gi­uing of them. We therefore ought not feare, that wee restore not time enough, nor hasten to doe it out of season, because he sinneth as much that hast [...]neth to recompence a good turne out of due time, as he that requiteth not when the op­portunitie is offered him. It is laid vp with me for him, neither feare I in his, nor in mine owne behalfe. He that requi­teth vnseasona­bly, is no lesse faultie, then he that requiteth not in time and place. He is wholly assured, he cannot lose this benefit, but with me, no not with me also. I haue giuen him thankes, that is as much as I haue requited him. He that thinketh very much vpon the restoring of his debt, ima­gineth that the other thinketh vpon his satisfaction too much. It behoueth him to be pro [...]e to doe both the one and the other, if he will receiue a be­nefit againe, let vs tender it, and deliuer it willingly, if hee had rather continue it in our custodie. Why should we dig vp his treasure? Why refuse we to keepe it? He is worthie to doe what he listeth. Touching opinion and report, let vs so prise them, as that they should attend vs, and not lead vs.

The end of the sixt Booke.
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]

LVCIVS ANNAEVS SENECA Of Benefits. THE SEVENTH BOOKE.

The Argument of IVSTVS LIPSIVS.

LIke vnto the first: Certaine questions, and yet things profitable, intermix­ed with subtill. That in the beginning serious: that curiositie is to be restrained, and too much desire of knowledge; that the mind is rather to be applied to manners and vertue, that is, to wisedome. After this a que­stion, vpon occasion of the word, Whether any man may giue ought to a wise-man, whereas all things are his? He saith that he may, because he possesseth all things in minde, but not in vse. Another, whether he that hath endeuoured or assayed to re­store a benefite, hath restored it. He hath: yet notwithstanding he teacheth him to en­deuour againe and [...]gaine. The third, whether thou art to restore that thou hast recei­ [...]ed from a good man, to the same man being now euill. Thou shalt restore it, but with caution, not that he vse them wickedly or to his own or anothers mans harm. The fourth, whether he that giueth, ought to forget himselfe of that benefite he hath bestowed. By no meanes: nay [...] more he saith he may keepe the same in memorie, yea, and somtimes exact it. The last, how gratefull men are to be borne withall, with a pleasing, milde, and great mind.

CHAP. I.

COurage my LIBERALIS;

Now haue we got the shore, I will not here
Tire thee with long discourse, or taske thine [...]are
To lingring prohemes, or dilated words.

The remainder this book concludes, & the mat­ter being spent, A [...]ood proi [...]ct to f [...]shion [...]en [...] ma [...]ners, follow­ed somewhat in­terr [...]pth, but learn [...]dly to the end. I look about me, not what I shall say, but what I haue not said: yet accept thou in good part whatsoeuer is the remainder, whereas it is reserued to thy selfe. Had I had an intent to polish my worke, it should haue increased by little and little, and that part had beene reserued till the con­clusion, which euery one would haue longed for, although he had beene satis­fied. [Page 141] But whatsoeuer was most necessary, I presently gathered and congested into the beginning of the Booke: now if any thing hath escaped me I recollect it. Neyther truely if thou aske me, doe I thinke it much pertinent to the mat­ter, wheras those things are spoken which gouerned manners, to prosecute the rest, which were inuented, not for the cure of the minde, but for the exercise of the wit. For Demetrius the Cynique (a man in my iudgement great, although he were compared with the greatest) was wont very worthily to say this: That it is more profitable for thee, if thou remember a few precepts of wisdome, and haue them in vse and readinesse, then if thou learnedst many things, and hadst not the ready vse of them. For (saith he) like as that man is a worthy wrestler, not that hath per [...]itly learned all the trickes and sleights, which hee shall seldome haue occasion to make vse of against his aduersarie: but hee that is well and dilig [...]ntly exercised in one or two, He meaneth that many thin [...]s de­light the vnder­stand [...]ng, and there are [...]w th [...]ngs that con­quer the will. and intentiuely expecteth and waiteth [...]he occasion [...] of them (for it skils not how much he knoweth, if he know so much as sufficeth for the victorie) so in this studie, many things delight, but few ouercome. Al­though thou be ignorant what cause it is, that moueth the Ocean to ebbe and flowe, why euery seauenth yeare impresseth an alteration and signe in our age, why the latitude of a gallery to those that beholde it a farre off, keepeth not his proportion, but gathereth his ends or sides into a narrownesse, so as the farthest spaces of the pillars are ioyned in one: what it is that separateth the concepti­on of twins, and ioyneth their birth: whether one act of conception be diuided into two distinct creatures, or else they are begotten at seuerall conceptions: why their destinies be different who are borne twinnes together, and their con­ditions proue so greatly different, whose birth was one, or at least in the same in­stant. It shall not much hurt thee to ouerslip those things which neyther thou canst know, nor is profitable for thee to know. Truth lieth couered and hid­den in the depth: neither can we complaine of the malignitie of nature, because the inuention of any thing is not difficult, but onely of that which yeeldeth vs not any fruit, except the onely inuention thereof: whatsoeuer should make vs better or more blessed, nature hath eyther laid open before vs, or neere vnto vs. If the minde hath contemned casualties: if she hath raised her selfe aboue feare, and with greedy hope embraceth not things in [...]inite, but hath learned to aske riches of her selfe: if she hath cast out from her the feare both of gods and men, and knoweth that there is a very little to be feared from men, neither any thing from god: if contemning all things whereby life is tortured, whilst it is most adorned; he hath attained so much, that it manifestly appeareth vnto him, that death is no matter of any mischiefe, but the end of many: if he haue consecra­ted his minde vnto vertue, and thinketh that way playnest whither soeuer she inuite him: if he be a sociable creature, and borne to communitie: if he respect­eth the world as one house, and openeth his conscience to the gods, and liueth alwayes as it were in publique: if more afraid of himselfe then others, being dis­charged of these tempests, he hath retired himselfe to an assured and quiet re­pose, he hath consummated a very necessary and profitable science. The rest are but the delights of leasure: for now is it lawfull (the mind once withdrawn into safetie) to expatiate and ariue at these also, which rather yeelde ornament then courage to our mindes.

CHAP. II.

THese are the things which our friend Demetrius willeth him that is proficient to lay hold on with both handes, to abandon them ne­uer, nay, rather to affix them to himselfe, and make them a part of himselfe, and by daily meditation to be instructed so farre, that these wholsome instructions may present themselues before his eyes freely; and being desired for, might be at hand at all times and places, and that instantly that distinction betwixt good and euill may bee remembred, whereby hee may know, that neyther there is any vice, which is not vi [...]ci­nous, nor any good which is not honest. Let him dispose his actions by this rule of life: according to this lawe let him execute and exact all things, and iudge those the most miserable amongst men (how rich & refulgent in wealth what­soeuer) that are slaues to their bellie and lust, whose minds are benummed with sloathfull idlenesse: let him say vnto himselfe, Pleasure is fraile and fleeting, she is quickly wearied of her obiect; the more greedily she is deuoured [...] the more hastily is she disposed to a contrarie desire: she is alwayes of necessitie accom­panied with repentance or shame: there is nothing in her that is honourable or vertuous [...] there is nothing in her that is eyther noble or worthy the nature of a man, who would resemble the goddes. It is a bare thing, proceeding from the most loathsome and vildest ministeries of our bodies, shamefull in the end. This is the pleasure that is worthy a man and a noble minde, not to fill and flatter the bodie, not to prouoke his lustfull desires, which are least hurtfull when they are most quiet. But to liue exempt from the passions of the minde, especially of that which enkindleth the ambition of those men, who entertaine quarrels and contentio [...]s among themselues, & also of that intollerable passion, which com­ming from high, hath made vs beleeue all that of the gods, which report and fa­bles haue forged, and hath planted this opinion in vs, to measure them by our owne vices. This equall, dreadlesse, and neuer-loathing pleasure doth this man enioy, whom we heere fashion and describe, who (as I may say) being skilfull both in diuine and humane lawes, contenteth himselfe with the things that are present, and dependeth not on those that are future: for neuer liueth that man in assurance that doateth on vncertainties. Exempted therefore from mightie cares, and such as distract the minde, he hopeth nothing, he coueteth nothing, he hangs not on expectation, but contenteth himselfe with his owne: neyther suppose you that such a man is contented with small riches; [...]or all things are his: yet not in such sort as they were Alexanders, who although he had conque­red as much as to the shore of the red Sea, yet wanted he more then he left be­hinde him from whence he came. Those very countries, which eyther he pos­sessed, or had conquered, were not his. When as hee had sent Onesicritus the ge­nerall of his Gallies to discouer the Ocean [...] and to search out fur [...]her warre in an vnknowne Sea: did it not sufficiently appeare, that he was poore, who extended his warres beyond the limits of nature, and thrust himselfe headlong through his blinde couetousnesse into a vast, vnattempted, and boundlesse Sea? What skils it how many Kingdomes hee hath violently taken, how manie hee hath giuen, how many countries hee hath loaden with tributes? He wants as much as he desireth.

CHAP. III.

NEyther was this Alexanders errour onely, whom happy temerity inforced beyond the tract of Bacchus and Hercules, but of all those whom fortune hath made greedy by ouer-glutting. Run ouer and reckon vp Cyrus and Cambyses, and all the progenie of the Kings of Persia, whom wilt thou finde contented and satisfied with his Empire? that ended not his life in thinking on some further proiect? Neyther is this to be wondred at, what so falleth into a couetous hand, is forth­with exhausted and hidden: neither skilleth it much, how much thou throngest into that which will neuer be satisfied. The wise-man is onely he that is Ma­ster of all things, neyther costeth it him much to keepe them. He hath no Em­bassadors to send beyond the Seas, nor campes to pitch in his enemies country, nor garrisons to dispose in conuenient fortresses, he needes no legions or troups of horsemen. Like as the immortall gods, without the assistance of any armes, do gouern their Kingdoms, & entertain their greatnes in all assurance, without disturbance, or forsaking the place high & eminent wherin they repose: euen so the wiseman executeth and gouerneth his offices, although they haue a large extent without tumult, & beholdeth all other mankind, being himselfe the po­werfullest and best of all vnder himself. Mock him as thou li [...]test, yet is it a matter worthy of a generous spirit, after thou hast in mind diligently considered both East and West, whereby also thou mayest penetrate into the remote and most retired solitudes, when as thou hast beheld so many liuing creatures, such afflu­ence of all things which beautifull nature most blessedly lauisheth, to break into this discourse, beseeming a god, All these things are mine. So commeth it to passe that he desireth nothing, because there is nothing which is not his.

CHAP. IIII.

THis is that (sayest thou) that I expresly willed, I haue ouertaken thee now, and intend to see how thou wilt rid thy selfe of these in­combrances, whereinto thou art wilfully fallen. Tell mee, how may any man giue ought to a wise-man, if all things are his? For that also which he giueth him is his owne. A benefite therefore cannot be bestowed vpon a Vnder this name Wise-man, he intends to sig­nifie thorow the whole body of this discourse, the same which it sig­nifieth in the booke of Pro­ [...]er [...]es and Ec­clesiastes, and Wisedome, where this word wisdom signifieth vertue or ius [...]ice; and the name of Wise man is in this sense a ver­tuous or iust mā. wise-man, who can haue nothing giuen him which is not his owne: yet say you, a man may giue somewhat vnto a wise-man. But know this, that I demand the like in respect of friends. You say that all things are common amongst them, therefore can no man giue any thing to his friend: for he giueth that which is common to him. There is no cause but that some­what may be both a wise-mans, and his that possesseth it, to whom it is giuen and assigned. [...] ciuill lawe all things are the Kings: and yet those things whose intire possession appertaineth to the King, are distributed amongst seuerall lords, and each thing hath his possessor. Therefore may we giue the King our house, our bond-slaue, and our money [...] neyther for all this are we said to giue him his owne. For to Kings appertaineth the power ouer all, but to seueral men the property. We cal them the bounds of the Athenians, or Campanians, which otherwise the neighbours by priuate termination distinguish amongst them­selues: and all the lands belonging to this or that man, are the Common-weals, [Page 144] and yet each part hath his determinate owner, we therefore may giue our lands to the Common-weale, although they be said to be the Common-weales, be­cause in one sort they are theirs, in another sort mine. Can it bee doubted, but that a slaue, and whatsoeuer substance he hath is his masters? Yet may he giue him a present. In what manner a man may giue vnto a w [...]se man. For a man cannot therefore say that the seruant hath nothing, because he could not haue, if so be his lord said he should not; neither therefore faileth it to be a present, when as he gaue it willingly, because it might be taken from him, although hee would not. Euen as we haue approued that all things appertaine vnto a wise man (for we are alreadie agreed in this point) so we must at this present expresse, that we haue more matter then we need, to giue liberal­ly vnto him, whom w [...]e confesse to be the master of what we haue. All things are the fathers, which are in the possession of his children; yet who knoweth not that the sonne also may giue his father somewhat? All things appertaine vnto the gods, yet haue we sacrificed at their Altars, and offered many times in their Temples. That therefore which I haue, faileth not to be mine, because it is thine, for one and the same thing may be thine and mine. He (sayest thou) is a Baud, that is the owner of common harlots, but a wise man is owner of all things, and amongst all things the prostitute are comprehended: therefore a wise man is a Baud. In like manner they forbid him to buy, for they say no man buyeth his owne, but all things appertaine vnto a wise man, a wise man there­fore buyeth nothing. In like manner restraine they him from borrowing any thing, because no man payeth interest for his owne money. Innumerable are the things they contend and cauill about, whereas notwithstanding they fully conceiue what is spoken by vs.

CHAP. V.

VNdoubtedly in such sort conclude I all things to be a wise mans, that each one notwithstanding remaine master and lord of that hee hath, euen as vnder the gouernment of a good Prince: the King posseseth all things by regall authoritie, and euery priuate man by particular tenure and title. The time will come when we shall proue this; meane while let this suffice for this question, that I may giue a wise man that, which in one kinde is his, in another mine: neither is it a strange matter that somewhat may bee giuen him, who is Lord of all. I haue hired a house of thee; in this house there is something thine and something mine. The house it selfe is thine, the vse of this house is mine. Thou therefore shalt neither touch the fruit, if the Farmer forbid thee, although they grow on thine owne soile, and there should be a scarcitie of corne; or famine:

Alas, how all in vaine shalt thou
Behold anothers mightie mow.

That grew in thine owne ground, was stacked in thine owne barne, and must be stored in thine owne garners. Thou shalt not enter my hired tenement, al­though thou be lord thereof, neither shalt thou carrie away thy slaue, which is my hireling; and if I hire a wagon of thee, thou shalt take it for a kindnesse, if I giue thee leaue to sit in thine owne wagon. Thou seest therefore that it may so be, that man receiuing that which is his owne, may receiue a courtesie.

CHAP. VI.

IN all these things which I lately recited, both one and the other are masters of one and the same thing. But how? Because the one is the lord of the thing it selfe, the other of the vse. We say that these bookes are Ciceroes, and Dorus the Booke-seller saith those very same books are his, and both these are true, the one challen­geth them as the author therof, the other as the buyer, and rightly are they said to appertaine to both; for the right is in both of them, yet not after the same manner. So may Titus Liuius receiue in gift, or buy for money his owne books at Dorus his hands. He answereth the former ob­iections. I can giue that to a wise man, which particularly appertaineth vnto me, although all things be his. For since after a kingly manner he posses­seth all things freely, and the proprietie of euery thing is distributed to euery particular person, he can receiue a present, he can owe, and buy, and hire. All things are Caesars, yet nothing but that which is his owne patrimonie and parti­cular demeanes is returned into his Exchequer: all things are subiect to his so­ueraigne power, but his peculiar heritage is properly his owne. The question is, what is his, and what is not his without diminution of his empire. For euen that which is adiudged to be none of his, is in another sort his owne. So a wise man in mind possesseth all things, but by law and right onely that which is his owne.

CHAP. VII.

BION somewhiles in his Arguments concludeth all men to be sa­crilegious, sometimes no man, when he would cast all men from the This was the Tarpeian rocke, whence hainous o [...]fenders were headlong cast downe. rocke, he saith, whosoeuer hath taken away or lauished that which appertaineth to the Gods, and conuerted the same to his own [...] vse, is sacrilegious, but all things are the Gods, what­soeuer euery one taketh away, hee taketh it from the Gods, to whom all things appertaine, therefore whosoeuer taketh away any thing, is sacrilegious. Againe, when he would haue Temples broken open, and when he commandeth that the Capitol should be pillaged without feare or vengeance of the Gods, Capitol is a place in Rome dedica­ted to Iupiter, which in times past was called Tarpe [...]. he saith, That no man is sacrilegious, because that whatsoeuer is taken out of that place, which appertaineth to the Gods, is transferred into another place, which apper­taineth likewise vnto the Gods. To this it is answered, that true it is that all things are the Gods, but that all things are not dedicated to the Gods, [...]nd that sacriledge is obserued and committed onely in those things, which religion and deuotion hath consecrated to the Gods. So say wee likewise, that the whole world is the Temple of the immortall Gods [...] onely worthie to contain [...] their Maiestie and magnificence, and yet that prophane things are different and distant from sacred, and that it is not lawfull to act all things in a corner of the earth, that hath been called a Temple, which we may lawfully doe in the sight of heauen, and view of all the Starres. Vndoubtedly the [...]crilegious cannot [...]o any iniurie to God, whose diuinitie hath planted him without the shot, yet is he punished, because he hath done it, as it were [...] to God [...] for both our and his owne opinion obligeth and maketh him subiect to the penaltie. Euen as there­fore he seemeth to be sacrilegious that taketh away any sacred thing, althoug [...] [Page 146] whithersoeuer he transferreth that he hath taken away, it is within the limits of the world: in like manner a man may rob a wise man, for that is taken from him, not which is his, as he is Master of all things in this world, but that where­unto he had a peculiar title, which he reputeth and vseth as his owne in seuerall. That other possession he acknowledgeth, the other he would not haue though he might: and into this discourse will he breake, which the Roman Emperour vttered, when as for his vertue and good gouernment, so much land was de­creed and allotted him, as in one day he could enuiron with his plow: You haue not need (saith he) of such a Citizen, that hath need of more then one Citizens liuing. How much more worthie, thinkest thou, was this man in refusing this gift, then in deseruing it? For many great Captaines haue broken and defaced other mens bounds, but neuer a one of them hath limited his owne.

CHAP. VIII.

WHen as therefore we behold a wise mans mind, powerfull ouerall things, and spreading his Empire ouer all the whole world, wee say that all things are his, when as we referre him to the right of daily custome, he shall be taxed by the powle, if the cause so re­quire. There is a great difference whether his possession be esti­mated by the greatnesse of his minde, or by his reuenues; he would hate to be lord ouer all these things whereof thou speakest. I will not reckon vp Socrates, Chrysippus or Zeno, and such other great personages, who in this are greater, be­cause Enuie obscureth not the praise of such, who haue liued in times past. A little before I made mention of Demetrius, whom nature, in my iudgement, seemeth purposely to haue bred in our time, to shew that neither we could cor­rupt him, nor he correct vs. A man (though himselfe deny it) of exact wisdom, and of firme constancie in those things which he determined, yea and of that e­loquence which best sitted matters of greatest strength [...] not polished or painted in words, but proof, cutting his causes with great courage, according as the heat carried him. I doubt not but the diuin [...] prouidence gaue this man such a life and such abilitie in discourse, to the end our age might want no good example, nor reproch.

CHAP. IX.

IF some one of the Gods would deliuer all our goods into Deme­trius possession vpon this condition, that it might not be lawfull for him to giue it away, I dare auerre it, he would refuse them, and would say I will not entangle my selfe with this inextricable waight: I will not plunge this man so cleane and free from aua­rice, into this deepe bog and sincke of these things. Why bringest thou me the mischiefes and infelicities of all men, which I would not receiue, although I could giue them away presently, because I see many things which I might not honestly giue? I will contemplate those things which dazle the eyes of Kings and Nations. I will behold those things for which you spend your blouds, and hazard your soules. Set before mine eyes the chiefest spoiles of superfluitie, whether it be that thou wilt vnfold them in order, or (as it is better) deliuer [Page 147] them in grosse. I see a vaulted roofe most cunningly carued with curious varie­tie: and the shels of diuers the most loathsome and sluggish creatures bought at excessiue prices. Wherein that very varietie which most pleaseth, is made of counterfeit colours, according to the similitude of the things themselues. I see in the same place tables and wood, estimated at no lesse then a Senators sub­stance, by so much more precious, by how much the infelicitie of the tree had writhed and wrested it into infi [...]it knots. I see in the same place vessels of Chry­ [...]all, whose brittlenesse enhanseth the price. For amongst ignorant men, the p [...]asure of all things is augmented, euen by that very dange [...], which should [...]use vs hate them. I see pots and vessels of Murrhine, as if superfluity and rio­ [...]o [...] e [...]pence had not beene sufficiently prized, if they had not vomited in great v [...]sels of pretious stone the excessiue wine they had drunke to one an others health. I see pearles not seuerally fitted for euery [...]are one; for now the eares are accu [...]tomed to beare burthens, diuers of them are tyed together, and if there [...] but two, a third is hanged vnder them. The madnesse of women had not [...]ufficiently brought their husbands into subiection, except they hanged at ey­ther of their cares the worth of two or three mens patrimonies. I see silken gar­ments (if they may be called garments) wherein there is nothing that may co­uer eyther their bodies, or at least-wise their shames; which when a woman hath put vpon her, she may scarcely swea [...]e that she is not naked. These for a great sum, are by way of commerce fetched from forraine Nations, that our matrons may shew no more of themselues to their adulterers in their chambers, then in publique.

CHAP. X.

WHat doest thou auarice? How many things are they, which in va­lue surpasse thy gold? All these things which I haue reckoned vp are of more honour and better price. Now will I recognize thy riches, the plates of both mettals, at which our couetousnesse is dazeled. But the earth which produced whatsoeuer was pro [...]i­table for our vse, hath drowned these mettals, yea, and with her whole waight hath cast her selfe vpon them, as vpon hurtfull and hatef [...]ll things [...] which could not come to light: but to the common hurt of all nations I s [...]e that Iron is ta­ken out of that very darkenesse, whence gold and siluer were had, to the end that neyther instruments for mutuall slaughters, n [...]yther price for the murtherers should be wanting, yet haue these things som matter of esteem in them. There is somewhat wherein the mind may follow the errour of the eyes. I see these Patents, these Indentures, and Obligat [...]ons, the emptie images of couetousnesse, certaine shadows of sicke auarice, by which they deceiue the mind, that deligh­teth in the opinion of transitori [...] things. For what are these? What is interest? What day-bookes and vsurie, but c [...]rtaine names of humane couetousnesse, which nature neuer heard of? I can complaine of nature, because shee hath not hidden gold and siluer deeper, because she hath not cast a heauier bu [...]then on them, then that it might be remoued. What are these Registers, these compu­tations, & sailable time, These were called Centesi­ma, which was a kind of vsury a­mongst the Ro­mans: the cre­ditor was wont to giue his deb­tor 100. crowns, and [...]or the vse therof he paid for euery moneth a crowne [...]or his interest, till a hundreth months were past; at the end whereof he returned the principall to his crediter. these bloudie vsuries of twelue for a hundreth? They are voluntarie euils depending on our constitutions [...] in which there is nothing that may be subiected to the eyes, or held in the hand, the dreames of vaine co­uetousnesse. O how wretched is he, who taketh delight to reade ouer the great [Page 148] rentall of his patrimonie, or large demeanes to be tilled by his bondmen, or infi­nite heards of cattell, that need whole countries and Kingdomes to feed them, or his family greater then warlike nations [...] & priuate buildings, that in bignesse exceede great cities! When he hath well examined these things, whereby he hath disposed and spread out his riches, and made himselfe proude; if he com­pare that which he hath with that which he desireth, he is a poore man. Let me go, and restore me to those riches of minde: I know the Kingdome of wise­dome to be great and secure: so enioy I all things as all men may enioy theirs in particular.

CHAP. XI.

WHereas therefore Caius Caesar gaue Demetrius two hundreth ta­lents, he smiled and refused them, not deeming the same of such value, as he might iustly glorie that he had refused them. O gods and Goddesses, with how small a thing would he either haue ho­noured or corrupted such a minde! I must testifie for so worthy a man: I haue heard a great matter reported by him, that when he had wondred at Caesars indiscretion, in that he thought that he could be changed for so sleight a matter, he said thus: If, said he, he had intended to tempt me, he should haue tempted me with his whole Empire.

CHAP. XII.

SOmething therefore may be giuen to a wise-man, although all things be his: so likewise nothing letteth but that something may be giuen to a friend, though we say that all things are common a­mongst friends. For in such sort are not all things common be­twixt me and my friend, as they are with a partner, so as my part and his should be all one: but as children are common to their fathers and mo­thers, who hauing two betwixt them, haue not each of them one, but two a peice. First of all I will make him know whatsoeuer hee be that will be co-partner with me, that there is nothing common betwixt him and me: and why? because this association cannot be but amongst wise-men, who onely vn­derstand and practise the vse of true friendship [...] the other are no more friends then they be co-partners. Againe, goods are common in diuers kindes. The sieges in the Theater ordained for Knights, appertaine to all the Knights of Rome; and yet in these, the place that I sate in is mine owne. If I haue yeelded vp my place to any, although I giue him place in a thing c [...]mmon to all, yet see­meth it that I haue giuen him somewhat. There are things which appertaine to some men, vnder certaine conditions: I haue my place amongst the Knights, not to sell, not to hire, nor to possesse continually; but onely to this end, to be­hold the publik sports. I shal not therfore lie, if I say I haue a place amongst the knights; but when I come into the Theater, if the place [...] be all taken vp, yet in right haue I a place there, because it is lawfull for me to sit there: and I haue it not because it is occupied by those, who haue as much title to the place as my selfe. Suppose the care is the same amongst friends. Whatsoeuer our friend [...]ath is common to vs, yet the propertie is his that possesseth it: I cannot vse it [Page 149] against his will. Thou mockest me (sayest thou) if that which appertaineth to my friend be mine, I haue libertie to sell the same: but I haue no libertie; for thou canst not sell my Knights place, yet is it common to thee, with those of the same order. It is no argument therefore that a thing is not thine, because thou canst not sell it, because thou mayest not consume it, because thou mayest not change it for worse or better: for it is thine, although it be thine but vpon a condition. I haue taken the place, yet hast thou it neuerthelesse.

CHAP. XIII.

NOt to dallie or delay with thee any longer, one benefite cannot be greater then another: but those things whereby a benefit may be giuen, may be greater and more; into which beneuolenc [...] may extend it selfe, and so please it selfe: as louers are wont, whose many kisses, and closer embracements increase not, but exer­cise their loues. This question also that ensueth, is fully debated in our for­mer, and therefore it shall be shortly handled: for the arguments we haue vsed in the other questions, may be employed here. The question is, whether hee that hath done his best to restore a benefite, hath giuen satisfaction. That thou mayest know, sayest thou, that he hath not satisfied, he hath done all he can to recompence him: it appeareth therefore that that thing is not done, because he had not the meanes to do it, as he hath not paide the siluer which he ought vn­to his creditor, who, to performe the same, had sought him euery where, and could not finde him. Some things are of that condition, that they must needes be effected, and in some things it is as much to haue attempted what a man cou [...]d, as to haue effected the deed. If the Physitian hath done his vttermost to heale his patient, he hath performed his part. The Orator although his cly [...]nt be condemned, if he haue shewed the vttermost of his art, hath not lost the ho­nour of his eloquence. The Generall and Captaine, although conquered, is commended, if in as much as in him lay, he proceeded with prudence, industrie and fortitude, he hath attempted all meanes to recompence thy courtesie, but thy felicity letted him. No calamitie hath falne vpon thee, whereby thou mightest make tryall of his true friendship. He could not giue vnto a rich man, sit by a healthfull man, succour a happie man. He was thankefull vnto thee, al­though thou receiuedst no benefit. Besides, intending this matter alwayes, and expecting the time & opportunitie of this same; he that hath spent manie cares to this e [...]d, and imployed much diligence to finde an occasion of requitall, [...]ath endeuoured more then he whose fortune it was, to make satisfaction suddenly.

CHAP. XIIII.

THe example of the debitor is farre different from this, who hath done little in gathering in his mon [...]y, exc [...]pt he hath paide it: for there his importunate creditor standeth ouer his head, who susse­reth not a day to passe without interest; but here thou art mat­ched with a bountifull creditor, who when he shall see thee [...]ro [...] ­ting vp and downe, carefull and pensiue to satisfie, saith vnto thee

Dislodge this care from out thy breast.

[Page 150] Cease to be so vrgent in thine owne trouble: I am wholly satisfied. Thou dost me iniurie, if thou thinkest that I desire any thing more at thy hands: I am fully possessed of thy good mind. But tell me (saith he) wouldst thou say that he had restored a benefite that had onely beene thankefull? By this reckoning he that hath requited [...] and he that hath not satisfied are of like reckoning. Contrariwise, put case; if any other hath forgotten the benefite he hath receiued, and hath no wayes endeuoured himselfe to requite the same: wouldest thou say that he had requited? But this man (of whom we speake) hath wearied himselfe day and night, and renouncing all other offices only to thinke vpon this, hath whol­ly intended satisfaction, and laboured that no occasion should ouer-slip him. Shall therefore the like respect be had of him, that hath cast away the care of returning gratuitie, as of him that neuer thought of ought else? Thou dealest vniustly with me, if thou exactest that recompence at my hand, when thou seest my minde euer addicted to content thee. To be short; put case thou wert in captiuitie, and that to ransom thee (hauing engaged all my goods vnto a credi­tor, who had taken them in assurance of the mony which I borrowed for thee) I put forth to Sea in a sore stormie winter, by coasts and promontories belea­g [...]ed by Pyrats; and furthermore suffered all the perils that may chance euen in a peaceable Sea [...] and after that hauing trauersed all the deserts, which all men liuing fled, and sought to finde thee; and comming at last to the Pyrats, from whose hands alreadie another had discharged thee: wilt thou denie that I haue not requited thy goodnesse, i [...] in vndertaking this iourney, I haue by shipwrack lost that money which I borrowed for thy ransome? If I fall my selfe into that captiuitie from whence I would deliuer thee; wilt thou not confesse that I haue beene thankefull vnto thee? Yet vndoubtedly the Athenians called Armodius and Aristogiton Tyrant quellers, and Mutius hand left vpon the enemies Altar, was as much as if he had slaine Porsenna: and vertue likewise wrestling against fortune, although the intended action was not effected, was alwayes honoured. He hath performed more, who hath followed flying occasions, and euer hunted after new by which he might be thankefull, then hee whom the first occasion made gratefull, without paine or trauell.

CHAP. XV.

HEe hath (saith hee) employed two things for thee, his will and goods: thou likewise owest him two. Worthily mightest thou say this vnto him, that had onely yeelded thee an idle will, but thou canst not speake it to him, who both willeth, and endeauo­reth and leaueth nothing vnattempted, for he performeth both, as much as lieth in his power. Againe, a number is not alwayes to be equalled by a number, for sometimes one thing ouer-valueth two. Therefore so for­ward and desirous a will to make restitution, standeth in stead of the benefite. But if the minde without the act bee not sufficient to requite a benefit, no man is thankfull to the gods, on whom there is nothing bestowed but the will, wee can (saith he) giue nothing to the gods but our will, but if I haue no other thing to giue him to whom I am obliged, why should I not bee reputed gratefull to­ward men, in yeelding herein that more, then which I cannot giue vnto the gods?

CHAP. XVI.

YEt if thou aske me what I thinke, and wilt subscribe vnto mine an­swere, let this man iudge that hee hath receiued the benefit, and that man know that he hath not requited it. Let the one release the other, and the other confesse the debt. Let this man say I haue it, and that man I owe it. In all controuersies, let vs respect the com­mon good, let vngratefull men be exempted from excusations, to which they may flie, and vnder which they may colour their refusall. I haue done all that I could. Doe it now likewise. What, thinkest thou our ancestors were so impru­dent, that they vnderstood not that it were an vniust act to set no difference betweene him, who had spent the money he had borrowed of his creditor in royot and sports, and him, who either by fire or theeues, and by any other mis­fortune, both lost his owne and other mens? Truely they admitted no excuse, to the end that men should know that faith was to be obserued euery way. For it was better that a iust excuse amongst few should not be accepted, then that all men should attempt any. Thou hast done all thou canst to satisfie. Let this suf­fice him, and thee a little. For euen as he is vnworthie to receiue any requitall, who suffereth thy serious and sedulous endeuour, to slip away vnregarded; so likewise art thou vngratefull, if thou thinke not thy selfe more freely obliged to him, who taketh thy good will for payment, and by this meanes acquiteth thee of that thou owe [...]t. Lay not hold of this, neither contest, yet seeke thou occa­sions of restitution. Requite the one, because he asketh it, the other, because he releaseth thee. Repay this man, because he is wicked, and the other, because he is not euill. And therefore thou hast no cause to thinke this question may stand thee in any stead: whether hee that hath receiued a benefit from a wise man, when he is wise, is bound to restore it afterwards, when hee is become foolish, and shall no more be a good man. For thou wouldest restore a thing commit­ted to thy trust, which thou haddest receiued from a wise man, yea and to an e­uill man, wouldest thou satisfie that he had lent thee: why then likewise woul­dest thou not restore a benefit? Because hee is changed, shall he change thee? What if thou hadst receiued any thing from a man in health, wouldest thou not restore it when he were sick, whereas we are alwaies most obliged to our friend when hee is weakest? Truely this man is sicke in minde, let him bee helped, let him be borne withall, folly is a sicknesse of the minde. To the intent that this may bee the better vnderstood, mee thinketh it good to vse some distinction herein.

CHAP. XVII.

THere are two kinds of benefits, the one which a wise man cannot giue, but to a wise man; and this is an absolute and true benefit: the other vulgar and of little value, whereof the vse is ordinarie amongst vs ignorant men. Of this there is no doubt, but that, that I ought to restore it to him I owe it, whatsoeuer hee bee, whether he be become a Homicide, a Theefe, or an Adul [...]rer. There are lawes to punish crimes and bad actions: the Iudge better chast [...]seth these, then an vngratefull man. Let no man make thee b [...]d [...] because he is bad himselfe. I [Page 152] will fling away my benefit to a wicked man, and restore it to a good man, to the one, because I owe it, to the other, lest I should be in his debt.

CHAP. XVIII.

OF the other kinde of benefit there is some question, which if I be not capable to receiue, except I be wise, I ought not likewise to restore but to a wise man. For put the case I should tender it, yet cannot he receiue it, for why he is not capable of it, but hath lost the science how to vse it. What if you command me to bandie backe the ball to a maimed mans hand, it is but a folly to giue him that hath no power to receiue? And that I may begin to answere thee to thy last speeches, I will not giue him that which hee cannot receiue, yet will I recompence the good he hath done me, although he cannot receiue it. For I cannot oblige any man, but him that receiueth, yet may I be discharged, if I giue satisfaction. Can­not he make vse thereof? Let him looke to that, the fault shall bee in him and not in me.

CHAP. XIX.

TO restore, saith he, is no other thing, but to deliuer it to his hand [...] that ought to receiue it. For if thou owest wine vnto any man, and he willeth thee to powre the same into a net or si [...]ue, woul­dest thou say that thou [...]addest repaid him, or wouldest thou re­turne him that, which whilest it is restored, is spilt betweene both. To restore, is to giue that which thou owest to him, to whom it apper­taineth, and that hath a will to receiue the same; this is the onely thing I ought to performe. That he may receiue, that which he receiued, at my hands, is now a further charge. I owe him not the custodie thereof, but the acquitall of my faith: and farre better is it, that he haue it not, then that I should not restore it. I will presently satisfie my creditour, although I know that hee will suddenly send that I owe him vnto the stewes. Although he assigne it ouer to be satisfied to an adulteresse, I will pay it. And if he would powre the money, which he is to receiue, into his bosome, being vntied, yet will I giue it. For I must repay it, yet am I not bound either to keepe or defend it. I ought carefully to keepe the good I haue receiued, & not that which I haue restored. As long as it remaineth with me, I will see it shall not be lost, but if it be called for, it must be satisfied, al­though it should slip ou [...] of his hands that receiued it. I will restore it to a good man, when it shal be profitable for him, to an euil man when he shal demand it. Thou canst not, saith he, redeliuer a benefit vnto him in such a sort as thou recei­uedst it, for thou receiuedst it frō a wise man, thou repaydst it to a foole. Neither is it embased by me, but by him. I will render that which I haue receiued [...] and if he recouer his wisdome, I will redeliuer it intirely, such as I receiued it; as long as he is euill, I will render such a one as he may receiue. But (saith hee) what if he be not only made euil, but cruell and enraged as Apollodor [...]s or Phalaris, were, wilt thou restore the benefit thou hast receiued at his hands? Nature suffereth not so great a change in a wise man, for falling from the best into the worst, it must needs follow also, that some impression of goodnesse remaineth in him, e­uen [Page 153] in his wickednesse. Vertue is not so much extinguished in men, but that she impresseth some markes, which cannot be defaced by any change. Wilde beasts that haue beene brought vp amongst vs, when as they breake out into the woods, retaine some part of their former tamenesse, and looke how much they be wilder then the [...]amest beasts, so much are they tamer thē the wildest beasts, and such as neuer were many tractable by mans hand. No man hath euer fallen into extreame wickednesse, that hath euer stucke vnto wisdome: hee is tainted more deepely, then that it may be wholly washed out, and changed into any other colour. Furthermore, I aske thee whether he, of whom we speake, bee onely sauage and cruell in minde, or if he take pleasure to procure the ruine and publike misfortune of the whole world. For thou hast proposed vnto me Apo­lidorus and Phalaris the tyrant, whose nature, if an euill man haue in himselfe, why should not I restore him his benefit back againe, to the end I may be whol­ly acquit of him for euer? But if not only he delighteth and taketh pleasure in humane bloud, but exerciseth his vnsatiable crueltie on all ages, and rageth not for anger, but of a certaine thirst and desire he hath to shed bloud: if hee killeth children in their fathers presence, if not contented with a simple death, he tor­tureth them, and not onely burneth those that are to die, but scorcheth them: if his altar be alwayes soyled with new murthers and massacres. It is a small matter to keepe backe a benefit from such a one. Whatsoeuer it was, whereby he and I were lincked and vnited together: that hath beene dissolued, by reason that by his crueltie and tyrannie hee hath broken the rights and lawes of hu­mane societie. If he had done any thing for me, if I had receiued any good at his hands, and afterwards he had taken armes, and made warre against my coun­try, whatsoeuer he had deserued he had lost, and to be thankfull to him, would be reputed a haynous crime. If he assaile not my country, but be tedious to his owne, and doing no iniurie to my nation, [...]e persecuteth his owne: notwithstan­ding that so great impiety of his minde, dissolueth the bonds whereby we were vnited: and if this be not sufficient to make him mine enemie, at least-wise I shall haue occasion to loath and hate him, and the respect of duetie which I ought to beare to the common good of men, deserueth to haue more power ouer mee, then the obligation that I owe to one particular person.

CHAP. XX.

BVt although this be so, and that I may freely act whatsoeuer me listeth towards him from that time since, whereby violating all lawes, he hath brought to passe, that nothing may be vnlawfully attempted against him, yet beleeue I that my actions must bee so limited, that if the good I intend in my benefit, shall neither augment his forces to the destruction of all men; neither confirme that power which he hath alrea­die, that is to say, that I may doe it without the ruine of the Common-wealth, I will restore his benefit: I will saue his childe being an infant. What doth this benefit wrong any of those whom his crueltie dism [...]mbreth. I will not fur­nish him with money to pay the souldiers of his guard. If he shall want [...]ither marble or rich raymen [...], it shall be no wayes preiudi [...]iall to any man, that shall supply his excesse and superfluitie. Souldiers and furniture I will not helpe him with. If he request me in way of great kindnesse, to send him cunning Comedi­ [...]ns and Gourtezans, and such other delights as may t [...]mper his cruelty, I wil wil­lingly [Page 154] offer them. Though I would not send him armed Gallies and shippes of warre, yet would I send him whirries and couered barges, and other such like things wherein Kings take their pastime, when they intend to sport themselues vpon the sea. And if the hope of his amendment were vtterly lost, yet with the same hand that I giue benefits to all men, I will returne him his; because the best remedie for such euill dispositions is not to be, and it is best for him to be dead, whose life will neither be reclaimed nor recti [...]ied. But seldome is so great wic­kednesse seene, it is rare; and reputed alwayes for strange and wonderfull, they are feared as the gaping and openings of the earth, or as great fires which burst forth from the deepest caues of the sea. Let vs therefore leaue these, and speake of those which we detest without horror. To this euill man whom I may find in euery market-place, whom priuate men [...]eare: will I returne the benefit I haue receiued: I must not make my profit of his wickednesse. Looke what be­longs not to me, let it returne to him that oweth it, be hee good, or bee he bad. How diligently should I examine these things, if I should not restore but giue? This place craueth a merrie fable.

CHAP. XXI.

A Certaine Pythagorist had vpon his credit bought a paire of clow­nish shooes of a Cobl [...]r (a great matter I warrant you) some few dayes after he came vnto the shop, to make satisfaction, and when he had long time knocked at the doore, there was one that an­swered him: Why lose you your labour? That Cobler you seeke for is carried out and burned. This may be a griefe to vs which lose our friends for euer, but not to you that know he shall be borne anew. Thus iested he at the Pythagorist. But our Philosopher carried home his three or foure pence very merily, shaking them di­uers times in his hand, as he went homeward. Afterwards accusing himselfe of the pleasure he had conceiued in non-payment, and perceiuing how much that little gaine of his was pleasing to him, he returned to the shoppe, and said vnto himselfe; Hee liueth to thee, pay thou that which thou owest. With that word hee thrust the foure pence into the shop at a crany of the wall, where the closing of the panell was shrunke; chastising himselfe for his cursed auarice, lest he should accustome himselfe to detaine another mans goods.

CHAP. XXII.

SEeke thou then to whom thou mayest returne that which thou owest, and if no man require payment at thy hands, call thou thy selfe to account. It appertaines not to thee, whether he be good or euill. Restore & accuse thy selfe, not forgetting how offices are diuided betweene you. Haue we commanded to forget thee, we haue enioyned him to remember; notwithstanding he deceiueth himselfe, that thinketh that when we say, that he who hath giuen the benefit, should neuer more thinke on the pleasure he hath done; that wee would haue him entirely lose the remembrance of the honestest thing that may be done in this world [...] wee command some things more strictly then we ought, to cause th [...]m to re­turne to their true and particular proportion, when we say that he must not re­member [Page 155] our meaning is, that he must not publish it abroad, hee ought not to vaunt, he should not reproach. For som there are that make the courtesies they haue done, their table-talke amongst their companions; of this talke they when they are sober, of this they talke being drunke, this discouer they to strangers, this commit they to their friends. That this inordinat and reproachfull memo­rie might be repressed: we commanded that he that had done the courtesie to his friend, should neuer remember it, and commanding him more then he could performe, we perswaded him to silence.

CHAP. XXIII.

AS oft as thou distrusteth those ouer whom thou hast command, thou mayest exact farre more then thou needest, to the end that that may be performed which is sufficient. Euery Hyperbole aimeth at this issue; that by a lie a man may attaine vnto the truth. He therefore that said,

That did exceed the snow in whitenesse,
And did surpasse the windes in lightnesse.

That which could not be said, to the end the most that could be, should be be­leeued. And he that said,

More fixed then these rockes, more headlong then this torrent.

did not thinke that he should perswade this, that any one was so immoueable as a rocke. This excessiue and superlatiue kinde of speech neuer hopeth so much as it dareth; but it affirmeth incredible things, to the end it may attaine vnto credible. When we say, Let him that hath giuen a benefite forget it; our meaning is, that he should be as one that had forgotten it: let no man perceiue that he hath remembrance thereof, or that his memorie is awakened. When we say, That we ought not to redemand a bene [...]it againe, we do not wholly take a­way the meanes of redemanding it; for oft-times euill men haue neede of an exacter, and good men also of an admonisher. Why then, shall I not shew an ignorant man the opportunity of requitall? shall I not discouer my necessities vnto him? why eyther should hee belie himselfe, or be sorie that hee knew it not? now and then let some admonition be intermixed; yet such as is modest, which neyther sauoreth of importunity or matter of plea.

CHAP. XXIIII.

SOCRATES in the hearing of his friends; said, I had [...]ought me a cloake had I had money. He required of no man, he admonished all: the contention was, who should supply him. And why not? For [...]ow small a matter was it that Socrates receiued? but it was a great matter to be worthy to be such a one, from whom Socrates would receiue. He could not more mildely chastise them. I [...]d (said he) bought me a cloake had I had money. After this whosoeuer was the forwardest he gaue [Page 156] too late: for Socrates was already in necessitie. For these intemperate exactors sakes we forbid the redemand of benefits, not that it should neuer be put in vse, but that it might be done modestly and sparingly.

CHAP. XXV.

ARISTIPPVS hauing sometimes taken pleasure in good sauors and perfumes, said; Beshrow these effeminate fellowes that haue defamed so worthy a thing. The same must be said, Euill betide these wicked and importunate exactors of their benefits, who haue extinguished so worthy an admonition amongst friends: yet wil I vse this loue of friendship, and will redemand a benefit from him from whom I would haue requested it if I had need, who will receiue it in stead of another benefite. If he haue meanes to requite that which I haue done for him, I will neuer say in way of complaint,

I tooke thee vp cast vp vpon this shore
Forlorne and poore, and that which mads me more
I made thee partner of my Princely state.

This is no admonition, but rather a reproch: this is no lesse then to bring bene­fits into hatred: this is the direct meanes to make it eyther lawfull or delight­full to be thankelesse. It is enough, and too much to refresh the memorie with submisse and familar words;

If I haue ought demerited from thee,
Or ought well liking hath appeard in me.

Let the other likewise say, How can it otherwise be, but that thou hast deser­ued? Thou hast entertained me in thy house, after that by tempest I was cast on shore, denied of all supplies, shipwrackt and poore.

CHAP. XXVI.

BVt (saith he) we haue done no good, he dissembles, he is forgetful, what should I doe? Thou proposest a very necessary question, and in which it becommeth vs to conclude this discourse, How ingratefull men are to be borne withall? Truely with a peaceable, milde, and great minde. Let neuer so inhumane, forgetfull, and vngratefull man so offend thee, that the delight of thy bountie be extinguished in thee, neuer let iniurie inforce these speeches from thee: I would I had not done it. Let the infelicitie of thy benefite content thee likewise. It shall repent him euer, if thou hitherto repent thee not. Thou must not be grieued as if some new casualtie had befalne thee, thou oughtest rather to wonder if it had not happened. One is affrighted with labour, another with charge, another with danger, and another with vnseemly bashfulnesse, lest in his requitall he acknow­ledge that he hath receiued. Some forget their duetie, another is idle in his af­faires, another ouer-busie. Marke how the immeasurable desires of men doo al­wayes gape & graspe after mony. Thou wilt not wonder then to see no man ad­dressed [Page 157] to requite where no man receiueth enough, which one of these is of so firm and solid a mind, that thou mayest safely trust thy benefits with him. This man is mad with lust, that man serueth his bellie, another is wholly addicted to lucre, whose substance thou hardly mayest equall: this man is sicke with enuy, another with such blinded ambition, that he is readie to runne vpon the swords point. Adde hereunto dulnesse of minde and olde age, and contrariwise the a­gitation and perpetuall tumult of an vnquiet breast. Annex hereunto the too much esteeme, and insolent pride of a mans selfe, for which he is to be contem­ned. What should I speake of their contumacie, that incline to the worst; or of their inconstancie and leuitie, that are setled in nothing? Adde vnto these head­long temerity and feare, that neuer giueth faithfull counsell, and a thousand er­rours wherewith we are intangled, the boldnesse of the most cowards, the dis­cord of most familiars; and (which is a common mischiefe) to trust to vncer­tainties, to loath things in possession, to wish for those things which we may not any wayes hope to attaine.

CHAP. XXVII.

SEekest thou for faith, a thing so peaceable amidst the passions of the mind, that are most restlesse? If the true image of our life were presented before thine eyes, thou wouldest suppose that thou sawest the pillage of a great Citie taken by assault, wherein with­out respect of shame or any iustice, the enemie in stead of counsaile vseth force and violence, as if by publique proclamation he were permitted to exercise at his pleasure all kinde of outrage. Neyther fire nor sword is spared, murthers and mischiefes are not punished: Religion it selfe, which hath often­times amongst the armed enemies saued their liues, who humbled themselues at her feete, cannot now containe those men that are set vpon pillage: the one forcibly defaceth the goods of a priuate house, another of a publique: that man stealeth prophane things, and that man sacred; the one breakes vp, the other passeth ouer. This man being discontented with the straightnesse of the pas­sage, ouerthroweth that which stoppeth his way, and makes his profite of this ruine. This man spoyleth without slaughter, that man beareth his bootie in a bloudie hand: there is no man but catcheth something from another. Amidst this greedinesse of mankind, I feare me thou art too much forgetful of our com­mon fortune, who seekest to finde a gratefull man amongst so many robbers. If thou art agrieued that there are vngratefull men, be sorie that there are some luxurious men, be vexed because there are couetous men, be displeased because there are impudent men, be angrie that there are deformed, sicke and pale olde men. This vice I confesse is grieuous and intollerable, that breaketh the society of men, that deuideth and destroyeth that concord whereby our weakenesse is supported; yet so common is it, that he himselfe who complaineth against it cannot auoyd it.

CHAP. XXVIII.

BEthinke thy selfe, whether thou hast beene thankfull to euery one of those to whom thou art óbliged, whether any of those pleasures that haue beene done thee, are lost; whether thou hast alwayes re­membred the benefites which thou hast receiued from others, and thou shalt see, that those things which were giuen thee when thou wert a childe, were forgotten by thee ere thou wert a stripling, and that those things which were bestowed on thee in thy youth, continued not in thy me­morie vntill olde age. There are some things which we haue lost, some things we haue reiected, some things haue vanished out of our sight by little and little, and from some things we our selues haue turned our eyes. But to excuse thy weakenesse, first of all memorie is fraile, and cannot long time apprehend so great a number of a [...]faires; it must needes lose as much as it entertaineth, and o­uerwhelme the elder with the later. So commeth it to pass [...] that the authority of thy nurse pr [...]uaileth little with thee, because succeeding yeares haue layed the benefits she hath done thee, farre from thy thought. Hence groweth it that thou yeeldest no reuerence to thy Master: so commeth it to passe, that whilest thou art busied in labouring for a Consulship, or pretendest a Priesthood, thou forgettest him that once gaue thee his voyce to be a Questor. Happely if thou diligently examine thy selfe, thou shalt finde that vice whereof thou complain­est in thine own bosome: thou doest amisse to be angrie with a publique crime, and foolishly to be angrie against thy selfe; to absolue thy selfe forgiue others. By thy su [...]ferance thou mayest make him better, but worse by thy reproches: thou must not harden his heart; let him, if any shame be left in him, retaine it still. Oft-times publique and notorious reproaches exile that doubtfull mod [...] ­stie, which a man would retaine. There is no man feareth to be that which he is seene to be: shame once discouered is lost.

CHAP. XXIX.

I Haue lost a benefit. Shall we say we haue lost those things which we consecrate to good vses? A benefite ought to be numbred a­mongst those things that are consecrated; prouided that a man hath well employed the same, although it be badly requited: if he haue not shewed himselfe such as we hoped he would be, let vs be such as wee haue beene, let vs be vnlike vnto him; the wrong was then done, and now it ap­peareth. An vnthankfull man is not accused by vs, but with our owne disgrace, because the complaint of the losse of our benefit, is a signe it was badly giuen. As neere as we can let vs pleade his cause with our selues, and say happely hee could not, peraduenture he knew not, perhaps he will doe it hereafter. The wise and patient creditor sometimes recouereth his debt which he reputeth lost, in forbearing his debtor, and giuing him time: the like must we do; let vs nourish the languishing faith of those that forget themselues.

CHAP. XXX.

I H [...]ue lost my ben [...]fite. Thou foole, thou knowest not the times of thy detriment. Thou hast lost, but when thou gau [...]st, now the matter is discouered. Euen in these things which se [...]me to be lost, moderation hath profited very much. As the infirmi­ties of the bodie, so those of the minde are to be handled gently; o [...]t-tim [...]s that thing which pati [...]nce and delay hath discouered and vnfolded, is broken by his pertinacie and stubbornnesse that haleth the same. What ne [...]d [...] these reproaches? What need these plaints? What needes pursuit? Why doest thou acquit him? Why dismissest thou him, if he be vngratefull? Now oweth he thee nothing; what reason is there to prouoke and incense him, whom thou hast many wayes pleasured, to the end that of a doubtfull friend he may becom an assured enemie, and to giue him means to defend his cause the better by pro­curing thine owne shame? There bee some will say, I am sure there is some great matter in it; but what it is I know not, that hee could not abide him to whom he was so much indebted. There is no man that in any sort complained of a superior but stained, though he could not d [...]face his greatnesse and honor, neyther is a man content to fain [...] trifles, when he seeks for credite by the great­nesse of his lie.

CHAP. XXXI.

HOw farre better is that way whereby the hope of friendship is reserued to him, and the opinion of our friendship likewise, if he be thankefull and entertaine a better thought? Incessant good­ness [...] conquereth euill men; neyther is there any man of so hard and hat [...]full a minde against those things that are to be beloued, that loueth not those, who euen in their greatest wrong [...] continue good men, to whom he beginneth to owe this also, that he sustaineth no displeasure a [...] their hands for not requiting. Reflect thy thoughts therefore vpon these: [...]here is no correspondencie h [...]ld with me: what shall I doe? euen that which the gods the best authors of all things do, who begin to bestow their benefites on those, that know not whence they come, and perseuer also to do good to those that are vngratefull. One chargeth them with little regard of vs, another that they haue iniustly dispensed their graces, another thrusteth them out of his world, and leaueth them there alone in sloth and heauiness [...], without light or doing any thing; another saith that Sun (to whom we owe this, that we haue distinguish­ed the time betweene labour and rest, that being deliuered from darken [...]sse wee haue escaped the confusion of a perpetuall night; for that by his course he tem­pereth the yeare, and nourisheth our bodies, and hasteneth our haruest, and ri­peneth our fruit) is som stone or globe of casuall fires, and call him any thing ra­ther then god. All this notwithstanding, the gods like good parents that smile at the iniuries of their little children, cease not to heape benefites vpon those who suspect that they are not the authors of all benefites, but with an equall hand distribute their blessings amongst al nations, reseruing only to themselues the power to do good. They water the earth with timely showers, they moue the Seas with fitting windes, they distinguish times by the course of the starres, [Page 160] they weaken both winters and sommers by the gratious intercourse of gentler winds; they pardon and mildely winke at, and suffer the errours and sinnes of our sinfull soules. Let vs imitate them; let vs giue although many things haue beene giuen in vaine, yet let vs giue vnto others, let vs giue [...]uen vnto those by whom we haue sustained the losse, no man forbeareth to build a house [...]or feare it should be ruinated, and when as fire hath consumed the place of our aboad, we suddenly lay a new foundation againe ere the floore be halfe colde [...] and oft­times we build cities in that very place where they were destoyed and sunke: so constant and confirmed is the mind to good hopes; mens labors would cease both by land and sea, if they had not a will to re-edifie and re-attempt the ruines that were past.

CHAP. XXXII.

HEe is a thankelesse man, he hath not iniured me but himselfe, I had the vse of my benefit when I gaue it, neyther therefore will I giue more slowely but more diligently; what I haue lost in him I will recouer in others: yea, to this man also will I giue a benefit again, and like a good husbandman, with care and labour I will con­quer the barrenn [...]sse of the soyle; I haue lost my benefit, and that man his cre­dite with all men. It is not the action of a generous minde, to giue and lose; this is the marke of a mightie minde to lose and giue.

The end of the seuenth and last Booke of Benefits.
THE EPISTLES OF LVCI …

THE EPISTLES OF LVCIUS ANNAEVS SENECA THE PHILOSOPHER.

Written vnto LVCILIVS, Together with the Arguments vnto euery Epistle of IVSTVS LIPSIVS.

LONDON Printed by William Stansby. 1613.

LVCIVS ANNAEVS SENECA HIS EPISTLES TO LVCILIVS: With the Arguments of Iustus Lipsius.

EPISTLE I.

He commendeth to LVCILIVS the estimation and vse of time, that it ought not to be deferred nor let slippe, neither ill employed.

DOE so, my Lucilius, recouer thy selfe to thy selfe, and that time which hitherto hath beene either taken from thee, or stollen from thee, or that o­therwise hath escaped thee, recollect and reserue to thy selfe. Perswade thy selfe that it is so as I write: there are some times which are taken a­way frō vs, some other which are stolne from vs, and other some which slip away from vs: But the shamefullest losse that may be, is that which pro­ceedeth from our negligence, and if thou wilt se­riou [...]ly and neerely obserue, thou shalt perceiue that a great part of life flitteth from those that doe euill, a greater from those that doe nothing; and the whole from those that doe not that they doe. What man wilt thou shew me that hath put any price vpon time, that esteemeth of a day, and that vnderstandeth that he daily dieth? For herein are we deceiued, because wee suppose death to bee farre off from vs, and yet notwithstanding the greater part thereof is alreadie ouer-passed, & all our years that are behind death holdeth in his possession. Do therefore, my Lucilius, that which as thou writest vnto me thou doest. Embrace and lay hold on each houre, so will it come to passe, that thou shalt be lesse in suspence for to morrow, if thou lay hold, and fasten thy hands on to day. Whilest life is deferred it fleeteth. All other things, my Lucilius, are forren to vs: time onely is our owne. Nature hath put vs in possession of this fraile and flee­ting thing, from which we may be expelled by any man. But so great is the fol­ly of mortall men, that they suffer all things, yea euen the least and vilest, truly recouerable, to be imputed vnto them, when as they haue obtained them [...] Let no man thinke that he oweth any thing, who hath receiued time, when in the meane while this is the thing, which indeed the gratefull man cannot restore. Happily thou wilt aske me what I doe, who command thee these things? I will ingeniously confesse vnto thee, I doe that which befalleth a luxurious man; but [Page 164] diligent: I take a very strict account of my expence: I cannot say that I lose no­thing, yet know I well what I lose, and why, and how. I am readie to yeeld a reason of my pouertie. It befalleth me, as to many others, brought to pouertie, not by their owne fault; all men pardon them, no man succoureth them. What is it then? I think him not poore, who supposeth that little remainder which he hath, to be sufficient: yet I had rather thou shouldest keepe thine owne, and be­gin to vse good time while thou mayest. For as our Elders were of opinion, the sparing that beginneth in the bottome is too late, because not only the least, but also the worst remaineth in the lees.

EPIST. II.

He approueth the quiet of the bodie, and of the mind also in some one thing or studie. He condemneth the o [...]er-curious, that runne ouer and reade diuers Authors and wri­tings. He perswadeth rather to reade a [...]ew, and those good, and to dwell vpon them. He counsel [...]eth alwayes to cu [...] out some one thing, and commit it to memorie, by his ex­ample who then made vse of a saying of EPICVRVS touching pouertie.

I Conceiue a good hope of thee, by reason of those things which thou writest vnto mee, and that which I heare spoken of thee. Thou art no wanderer, neither disquieted with the desire of tran­sporting thy selfe from one place vnto another; this is but the tossing of a sicke minde. In my iudgement, the chiefest testimo­nie of a well composed minde, is [...]o be able to consist and dwell with her selfe. But beware lest this desire to reade many Authors, and all sorts of bookes, con­taine not giddinesse and inconstancie of mind. Thou must be stayed, and after a maner nourished with certain spirits, if thou wilt apprehend any thing that shall cons [...]antly remaine in thy memory. He is no where, that is euery where. Those tha [...] passe their life in trauel take vp many Innes, but entertaine few friendships. It must needs so befall such, who acquaint not themselues familiarly with one spirit, but lightly trauers, and slightly ouer-runne many things. That meat ne­uer nourisheth the bodie, which is no sooner taken in, but is deliuered out. There is nothing that so much hindereth a mans health, as the often change of remedies. The wound can hardly be cured, that is couered with diuers sorts of medicines. The tree prospereth not that is transported from one place to ano­ther. To be short, there is nothing so profitable, that profiteth by passing i [...] o­uer. The multitude of bookes distracteth and distempereth the vnderstanding. Being therfore vnable to read [...] as much as thou hast, it sufficeth to haue as much as thou canst reade. But now, sayest thou, will I ouer-runne this booke, now that. The stomacke is distempered, that longeth after diuers sorts of meats, which beeing different and diuers, doe rather choake then com [...]ort or nour [...]sh. Reade therefore (if thou wilt credit me) such bookes alwaies as are most appro­ued, and though for varieties sake thou sometimes change, let the others be vn­to thee as thy harbour, those as thine ordinarie retreat and house. Purchas [...] vnto thy sel [...]e euery day some new forces against pouertie, and some couns [...]ls a­gainst death, & fortifie thy self with other preseruations against th [...] other plun­ges of life, and after thou hast tasted diuers things, lay hold on one which that day thou mayest digest. This likewise doe I of diuers things which I reade, I ap­prehend somewhat. See heere what I haue learned to day of Epicur [...]s (for I [Page 165] am wont sometime to passe into mine enemies campe, not as a fugitiue, but as a spie) A contented pouertie, saith he, is an honest thing; but that is no pouertie which is contented: for he that contenteth himselfe with his pouertie, is a rich man, not he that hath little, but he that desireth the most, is the poore man. For what skilleth it how much a man hath in his chest, how much lieth in his barns, how much he feedeth, how much he profiteth by vsurie, if he still gape after o­ther mens gaines, if he make reckoning not of those things he hath gotten, but of that which remaineth to be gotten? Thou requirest of me what measure or) proportion there is of riches? The first is to haue that which is necessarie, the next that which sufficeth.

EPIST. III.

That some are oftentimes badly and rashly called friends. If any such there be that deser­ueth the name of friend, all things are to be reposed and trusted on his faith, and com­municated vnto him, as another our selues. Such as are fearefull and base minded are reprehended, as likewise those that are ouer-credulous, or to open. The meane is the best.

THou hast deliuered thy letters to be conueyed to my hands, as thou sayest, by a friend of thine, by which thou aduertisest me, not to communicate all thy pertinent affaires with him, because as thou sayest, thou art not accustomed to doe the like: so that in one and the same letter, thou allowest and disauowest him to be thy friend: I beleeue first of all, that thou hast giuen him this name of friend at aduenture, and as a common name in such sort, as we cal euery man that passeth by vs by the name of Sir, if so we be ignorant by what name he is called. But let me tell thee this, that if thou thinkest to haue a friend, in whom thou wilt not put as much confidence, as in thy selfe, thou deceiuest thy selfe very much, and vnderstandest not sufficiently the force of true amitie: deliberate all things with thy friend, but first of all resolue thy selfe, that he is thy friend. After the friend­ship is contracted, then ought wee to trust; before it bee formed we ought to iudge. But they preposterously confound offices, who contrarie to the precepts of Theophrastus, loue before they iudge, and after they haue iudged loue not at all. Thinke therefore long time with thy selfe, whether any man is to bee entertained into thy friendship; but when thou shalt be resolued to accept of his loue, discouer vnto him readily thy whole hart, and [...]s boldly communicate thy secrets with him, as with thy selfe; yet so liue thou, that thy thoughts and actions may be such, that thou mayest commit them to the serious obseruati­on of thine enemie. But because sometimes diuers things fall out, that custome hath made secret, impart freely vnto thy friend all thy designes and cogitati­ons, if thou supposest him to be faithfull, thou wilt doe no lesse. For many haue taught how to deceiue, by fearing lest they themselues should be deceiued, and haue ministred other men a priuiledge of offence by their own vaine suspicion. What is the cause therefore, why I should conceale any thing from my friend? Why before him thinke I not my selfe alone? Some there are which commit those things which are onely communicable with their friends to euery one they meete, and disburthen in euery [...]are whatsoeuer is distastefull vnto them: some againe likewise are distrustfull of their faith, whom they esteeme most [Page 166] dearest, yea and if they could, they would scarcely trust themselues, but inward­ly oppresse themselues with their owne secrets. But neither of these things is to be done, for both of them sauour of infirmitie, both not to credit all men, and not to credit any: but the one in my opinion is the more laudable vice, the other more secure. So reprehend both of them, both those that are alwayes disquiet, as those that are alwayes idle. For the manner of liuing in the first is not industrie, but rather the course & recourse of a tempest that agitateth their soules: and as touching those that thinke that all motion is trouble and vexati­on, it is rather a dissolution and languor in them than moderation Commit that therefore to memorie which I haue read in Possidonius, There are some, saith he, that are in such sort retired and hidden, that they thinke all things to be in garboile, which are open to the light. It behoueth thee to temper these things together, and to chuse certaine intermissions which are proper to action and re­past. Deliberate with nature, and she will tell thee, that she made both the day and the night.

EPIST. IIII.

He exhorteth him to perseuer in Philosophie, wherby he may be esteemed a serious, graue and perfect man. For the rest hee concludeth them to be children that feare such things as are not to be feared, as especially death. And this concludeth he to be the end of our euils; and that eyther by sudden motion or desperation many haue contem­ned the same: and why not with reason? He concludeth therefore that life is not to be loued, but that we ought daily to thinke, vpon how di [...]ers and light causes death ap­proacheth vs. Finally, he proposeth an Embleme of EPICVRVS of true riches.

COntinue as thou hast begun, and indeuour thy selfe as much as in thee lieth, to the end thou mayest more plentifully enioy a re­formed and gouerned minde. And in reforming and moderating the same thou shalt enioy it, but the contentment that a man re­ceiueth by the contemplation of a conformed minde, and that is replenished with perfect innocencie, is farre more pleasant and agreeable. Thou doest remember what pleasure thou diddest feele, when hauing left thy chil­dish liuerie, thou tookest vpon thee the abilements of a man, being brought be­fore the Pretor into the marketplace. I expect a far greater, beyond comparison, when thou shalt cast off thy childish mind, and that Philosophie hath inrouled thee amongst the number of men: for childe-hood ouerslippeth vs easily; but that which is most grieuous, childishnesse remaineth with vs, and the worst that I see, is that we haue alreadie the authoritie of old men, and neuerthelesse pos­sesse as yet the vices of children; and not onely of children, but of infants. For those are affraid of things of small value, and these other of such things as are false: we feare both the one and the other. If thou wilt well bethinke thy selfe, thou shalt vnderstand that there are certaine things, which for the same cause for which they bring vs much feare, ought the lesse to be feared; No euill is great which commeth the last. We might feare death if it could abide alwayes with vs: but it is necessarie that eyther it befall vs not, or that it ouerpasseth in­continently. And if thou tell me that it is a difficult thing to perswade the mind to contempt of life, doe but consider vpon how light occasions some haue at­tempted the same: one hath strangled himselfe with the halter before his Mi­stris [Page 167] doores, another hath cast himselfe from the top of the house to the bottom to auoyde his Masters displeasure, another hath stabbed himselfe into the breast, rather then he would be brought back to the place from whence he was fled. Thinkest thou that vertue cannot inforce as much as excessiue feare could? Trust me, no man can enioy a peaceable and secure life, that laboureth ouer much to prolong it, and that esteemeth it for a great benefite, to see and obserue the reuolution of of many yeares. Meditate then euery day to haue the power to leaue thy life freely and willingly, which diuers men entertaine in another maner then they do who embrace bryers and thorns, which haue beene driuen athwart them by the violence of some furious streame. They float betwixt the feare of death, and the torments of life; they will not liue, and they know not how to die. Fashion therefore vnto thy selfe a pleasant life, by forsaking sollici­tude that may befall thee for the loue of the same. There is no good more plausible to the possessor then that, to the losse whereof the minde is alreadie prepared; and there is nothing, the losse whereof is more easie to be supported, then of that which being lost cannot be redesired. Take thee courage and assu­rance against those things that are subiect to the same necessitie as thou art, e­uen those that are most mightie. A King of Egypt. Pupill & an Pothinus Eu­nuchus. Eunuch gaue sentence on great Pompeys head, of Crassus the cruell and insolent Parthian. Caligula. Caius Caesar com­manded that Lepidus should present his necke to the Tribune Decimus, and hee himselfe gaue his owne to Chaereas. Fortune hath neuer so much fauoured any man, but that she hath affronted him with as many menaces. Trust not ouer­much vnto this calme. In an instant the Sea is turned, and those ships are swal­lowed the same day, where they wantonly played on the water. Thinke that eyther a thiefe or an enemie may ayme his sword at thy throat: and although a greater power be wanting, not the basest slaue that liueth, but hath power of thy life and death. I assure thee that whosoeuer contemneth his life is Lord of thine. Take account of those that are dead, by the complots of their seruants, or by open outrage, or by treason, and thou shalt see that there are no lesse made away by the indignation of their slaues, then the displeasures of their Kings. What importeth it then how mightie he be whom thou fearest, if eue­ry man may do that which thou fearest? And if by chance thou fallest into the hands of thine enemies, the conqueror will command that thou be ledde and kept in a place, where he may haue thee alwayes at his mercy. Why deceiuest thou thy selfe? Why beginnest thou then only to vnderstand that which thou hast suffered from thy birth? I tell thee, that from the houre thou wert borne thou art led to die. These and such like things ought continually to liue in our remembrance and mind, if we will moderately expect this last houre, the feare whereof replenisheth all others which disquiet. I will heere make an end of my Letter, in making thee partaker of the fruit which this day I haue gathered in another mans garden. Pouertie measured according to the rule of nature, is great riches. But knowest thou well what limits this rule of nature giueth vs? Neyther to haue hunger nor thirst, nor cold. But to the end to driue away this hunger and thirst, thou hast no need to wait or attend on these proude and great g [...]tes, nor to suffer these disdainfull and imperious contemners, nor to expose thy selfe to the baites of these contumelious courtesies. Thou needest not for the same to attempt the fortune of the Sea and of armes. That which nature deserueth is found euery where: we take paines to obtaine superfluous things: these are they that weare our gownes in peace, that make vs watch in our Tents, and that cast vs on forraine shoares. That which sufficeth vs is already at hand.

EPIST. V.

Hee keepeth backe his friend from the ostentation of Philosophie, and counselleth him not to make himselfe noted by his habit or diet: he perswadeth him not to contemne all things that are vulgar, but to make moderate vse of them, and without abuse: hee detesteth vncleanlinesse, and calleth vs to the lawe of nature: he vrgeth a clause out of HECATON of the coniunction of hope and feare; auowing him to be free of one that hath cast off the other; and obnoxious to both, whosoeuer is to one.

WHereas thou trauellest continually, and all other things set apart, endeuourest to make thy selfe daily more vertuous; I praise thee, and am glad to heare it: and not onely do I counsell thee to per­seuer therein, but I likewise intreat thee. But thereof I am to ad­monish thee, that according to the maner of those that seeke not so much to profit as to be seene, thou applie not thy selfe to doe certaine things which are ouer-singular, and remarqueable for their strangenesse, eyther in the manner of thy life, or in thy habit. Flie all sluttish behauiours, as to weare thy haire ouer-long, knotted and filthie, thy beard vncombed, to lie on the ground, and to make profession to haue a sworne hatred against golde and siluer, and whatsoeuer followeth ambition by a wrong course. The sole name of Philo­sophie, how modest soeuer it be, is of it selfe sufficiently subiect to enuie. What if we separate our selues from the companie of men? Well may we inwardly be in all things vnlike vnto them; but our looks and behauiours must be agree­able to the good liking of the people. Let not our garment eyther be too gay, or too slouenly: let not our siluer be enchased with gold; and yet let vs be as­sured that it is no token of frugalitie to be destitute eyther of gold or of siluer: let vs so doe that we leade a better life then the common sort are wont, yet not altogether contrarie to theirs; otherwise in stead of correcting them we shall driue and banish them from vs, and we are the cause that in disliking all our a­ctions they will not imitate one of them. Philosophie promiseth this first of all, common sense, humanitie, and entercourse and societie, from which we shall become separated by this dissimilitude of profession. Let vs rather take heede lest these fashions for which we would be held in admiration, proue not ridicu­lous and odious vnto others. Our intent is to liue according to the direction of nature: but it is a thing altogether contrarie vnto her, to afflict the bodie and to hate ordinarie cleanlinesse, and to be loathsome and sordid, to vse not onely grosse meates, but also harmefull and distastefull. For euen as to affect and seeke after delicacie is riot, so also is it a kinde of madnesse to flie from those things which are vsuall and may be recouered without great expence. Philosophie requireth frugalitie, and not miserie: and since an honest and well seeming fru­galitie may be bad, I thinke it good for a man to keep this measure. It behoueth vs that our life be balanced betwixt good and publike maners. I can be well con­tent that men admire our life, but yet let it be within their knowledge. What then? shall we doe the same that the rest? shall there be no difference betwixt vs and them? yes a great deale: but he onely shall reknowledge the same that obserueth vs neerely. He that shall enter our houses, let him rather looke on vs then on our moueables. That man is great and generous, who vseth earthen platters like siluer vessell, and no lesse is hee that vseth siluer vessell as earthen platters. Not to be able to endure riches is the part of a weake mind. But to impart vnto thee the profit I haue made this day: I haue found in Hecaton, that [Page 169] the end of coueting sufficeth to remedie feare. Thou wilt giue ouer, saith he, to feare, if thou ceasest to hope. But thou wilt say, How can these things being so diuers, be together? So is it my Lucilius, although that these things seeme to be contrarie, yet are they ioyned and vnited the one with the other. Euen as one and the same chaine bindeth both the officer and the prisoner, so likewise these things although they seeme different, are conioyned and martch together. Feare fly­eth hope, and I wonder not thereat; both of them are passions which proc [...]ed from an inconstant and moueable minde, and that is in thought and care for that which is to come. But the greatest cause both of the one and other is, for that we moderate not our selues, and content not our selues with things that are present, but send our thoughts out farre before vs. So prouidence which is the greatest benefit that betideth mortall men, becommeth hurtfull and harmeful vnto vs. Brute beasts flie those dangers which they see before their eyes, and hauing escaped them, their present securitie extinguisheth the memory of their fear [...]: but we are affrighted not onely with our dangers past, but with those also that are to come. Many of our goods do harme vs; for our memorie reui­ueth and representeth vnto vs the torment of the feare past, and prouidence anticipateth it. There is no man miserable alone by present euils.

EPIST. VI.

He declareth that it is an argument that he profiteth in Philosophie [...] because he acknow­ledgeth his vices. He expresseth his affection to communicate all things with him as his true friend, especially such as are profitable. That the counsaile of wise-men seemeth verie effectuall and aboue their precepts, which he teacheth by example of some Phi­losophers.

I Know, my Lucilius, that I am not onely amended, but transfigu­red and reformed; not that I eyther vaunt my selfe, or suppose that there remaineth not any thing in me that may not be amen­ded: I know there are many things, that both ought to be cor­rected, extenuated, and wholly lifted vp; but euen this is a testi­monie of a mind that beginneth to be changed for the better, when it knoweth in it selfe those vices that before times it was ignorant of. There is some hope in those that are seazed with certaine sicknesses, when as they feele themselues to be diseased. I would therefore with to communicate with thee this sudden change that is made in me; then should I begin to haue a more certaine confi­dence of our friendship, of that true friendship I meane, which neyther hope nor feare, neyther any other consideration of particular profit should distroyne, with which men die, and for which they die. I will reckon vp vnto thee diuers men that haue not had want of a friend, but want of friendship: such a thing cannot happen when as two soules are coupled together by a strict alliance, and vniformitie of will in desiring honest things. Why can it not? for they knowe that all things are common vnto them, and chiefly aduersitie. Thou canst no [...] coniecture in thy minde how much profit I perceiue that euery day bringeth me. Send me, sayeth thou, those things whose efficacie I haue so tried. Truely I could wish that I might in some sort poure them all into thee: I am glad to learne, to the end I may teach; and there is not any thing, how rare and com­modious soeuer it be, that can or should yeeld me content, if I might only know [Page 170] it for my partcular profit. If wisedome it selfe were giuen me vpon condition to conceale it, and not to publish it, I would refuse the same. The possession of no benefit is contenting without a companion. I will send thee therefore the bookes themselues: and lest thou shouldest take too much paines in following those things which profite publikely, I will put certaine markes to finde those things quickly, which I proue and admire; yet our speaking and liuing toge­ther will profit thee more, then onely reading. It therefore behooueth thee to transport thy selfe hither: first of all, because men giue better credit to their eyes then to their eares. And againe, because the way of precepts is long, where that of example is more short, and far more fruitful. Cleanthes had neuer expres­sed Zeno had he onely heard him: but he alwaies was conuersant with him, and had an eye into the secrets of his studie, and warily obserued whether he liued according as he taught. Plato, Aristotle, and all other Sages which afterwards spread themselues into diuers families, haue receiued more instructions by the manners then the words of Socrates. Metrodorus, Hermacus, and Poliaemus were great men, not because they had frequented the Schoole of Epicurus, but for that they had conuersed with him. But I call thee not onely vnto me, to the intent thou shouldest receiue profit, but to the end thou shouldest profit others: for we will continually assist one another; mean while to acquit my selfe of the rent I owe thee, I will tell thee that which pleased me to day in Hecaton: Askest thou, saith he, wherein I haue profited? I haue begun to be a friend to my selfe. He hath gotten much: he will neuer be alone. Know this, that he that is friend to him­selfe is a friend to all men.

EPIST. VII.

To him that is proficient too much company is to be anoyded, and that vices are contra­cted thereby, Playes and Showes also, chiefely those that are bloodie: neyther is it be­seeming publikely to recite or dispute amongst vnequals. Let [...] saith hee, one or two a [...]ditors of iudgement be esteemed, or none at all.

WIlt thou know that which in my iudgement thou oughtest espe­cially to flie? The multitude. For as yet thou canst not safely commit thy selfe vnto them; and for mine owne part I confesse my weakenesse: I neuer returne backe againe with those man­ners that I carried out with me. Somewhat of that which I had composed is troubled; somewhat of those things which I had chased away returne [...]h backe againe vnawares. That which befalleth the sicke who are in such sort attainted with a long debility, that they can neuer be remoued, except they grow worse. So fareth it with vs, whose spirits begin to recouer from a long sicknesse. The conuersation of the people is contrarie vnto vs; euery one lendeth vs some staine, or imprinteth it in vs, and leaueth an impression in vs be­ [...]ore we can beware: and the greater the companie is wherewith we conuerse the greater is the danger. But nothing is so hurtfull to good manners as to sit in a Theatre, [...]or there by the pleasures we conceiue, the vices steale on vs more easily. What thinkest thou that I say? I tell thee that I not onely returne more couetous, more ambitious, more luxurious, but more cruell and inhumane, be­cause I haue beene amongst men. By casualtie I fell vpon the Showes at noone, exspecting some sports and wittie jests, and recreation whereby mens eyes [Page 171] might be reposed awhile, that in the morning had beene, fedde with the shed­ding of mens bloud. But I finde it contrarie; whatsoeuer was fought before was mercie. Now letting passe trifles, there is nothing but detested murther: com­batants haue not wherewith to couer them, but expose their naked bodies to the stroake, and neuer strike without wounding. This spectacle doe many pre­ferre before that of the ordinarie couples, or that of the extraordinarie, asked for by the people. And why should they not preferre the same? The weapon is kept off neyther by Helmet nor Target: whereto serue these fencings and Gladiatorie Arts? All these are but the delayes of death. In the morning men are exposed to Lions and Bears, at noone to the spectators. The killers are com­manded to be set against those that are to kill, and they reserue him that is con­queror for another slaughter: the end and ayme of those that fight is death, by fire and sword the matter is managed. These are done during the intermission of the spectacle. But some man hath committed a theft: what therefore deser­ueth he? To be hanged. He slew a man: he that slew him deserned to suffer no lesse. But what, hast thou deserued to behold this spectacle? Kill, burn, whip, why runnes he so fearfully on the weapon? Why killes he not couragiously? Why dies he not willingly? By stroakes are they compelled to wounds, and with naked and exposed bodies they receiue the stroakes of one another. Is the spectacle intermitted? in the meane time men are slaine, lest nothing should be done. Go too, vnderstand you not this, that euill example reflecteth on those that doe this? Giue thankes vnto the immortall gods, that you teach him to be cruell who cannot learn. A tender mind and too little apprehensiue of the truth is to be withdrawn from the common people: it is easie to find out many. The frequentation of a different multitude might peraduenture haue shaken the great mindes of Socrates, Cato, and Laelius. So farre is any of vs (though in height of our composed iudgement) from being able to sustaine the force and charge of vices, comming with so great a troupe. One onely example of lust or auarice causeth much mischiefe. The companie of a delicate man by little and little effeminateth those that conuerse with him. A rich neighbour kindleth our co­uetousnesse. A mischieuous and corrupt man rubbeth on the rust of his infir­mities, and soileth the most simple and vprightest man. What thinkest thou then will befall those to whom all the world flocketh and approacheth publike­ly? These of force must thou eyther imitate or hate; but both the one and the other of these ought to be auoyded, for feare lest thou be eyther like vnto the wicked, by reason they are manie, or enemie to diuers, because they are vnlike to thee. Retire thy selfe therefore into thy selfe: haunt those who can make thee better, admit those whom thou canst better; for these things are recipro­cally done. Men in teaching others learne themselues. Aboue all things beware lest thou expose thy selfe to great assemblies, or affectest to dispute or teach by way of ostentation, or desire to shew thy selfe. I could well with that thou shouldest doe so, if thou couldest in any sort be profitable to the people: but there is not any one amongst them that can vnderstand thee; and if happ [...]ly thou finde out one or two, yet must thou instruct them how they may vnder­stand thee. Why then wilt thou aske me, Haue I learned these thing? Feare not that thou hast lost thy labour, if thou hast learned these things for thy selfe. But lest I should reserue vnto my selfe the profit I haue gotten this day, I will communicate with thee three most worthy sentences to one sense; of which the one shal be to acquit this Epistle of that which it oweth thee; the other two shall be giuen thee aforehand. Democritus saith, I co [...]nt one onely for a whole mul­titude, [Page 172] and a whole multitude as one. And he whosoeuer he was [...] for it is doubted of the author, when it was demaunded of him, why he tooke so great paines to preferre an arte, which should profit but a few, answered very wisely. A few, saith he, suffice me, one is enough, none is enough. And the third is most excellent. Epicurus writing to one of the consorts of his studies. These things, saith he, write I not to manie, but to thy selfe; for we our selues are a Theatre great e­nough for one another. Su [...]h things as these, friend Lucilius, are they which thou must commit to memorie, to the end to contemne this pleasure which proceedeth from the reputation and consent of diuers. For to be praysed by manie, what cause findest thou to reioyce at the more? Then if thou be such as diuers do esteme thee, let them see thy goods within thee.

EPIST. VIII.

This present dependeth on the former Epistle, and is as it were an Obiection: what, wilt thou that I auoyde the multitude and the people? But thy Stoicks teach to follow businesse, and to die in affaires. He answereth, that he perswadeth not idlenesse, but a retirement by his example, who dismissing other offices, intendeth wisedome, and pro­pagateth the precepts thereof in writing. This, saith he, is of all actions the greatest and most excellent. In conclusion, he inserteth that of EPICVRVS: that Philoso­phie giueth true libertie.

THou commaundest me by thy aduice to flie the people, to retire my selfe apart, and to be contented with my conscience: What shall then becom of all those precepts of thine, that commanded me to end my life in action? What, seeme I then in this interim to intertaine idlenesse? To this end haue I withdrawne my selfe, to this intent haue I shut vp my doores, that I might profit many men. I spend not a day in idlenesse; yea, and for the most part of the nights, I spend them in s [...]udie, maintayning and forcing mine eyes against sleepe. I retired my selfe not from me onely, but from affaires, and principally from mine owne particular: I wholly traffique for posteritie, by writi [...]g that which may be profitable vnto them: I set before their eyes in writing many good and wholsome counsailes, as it were receipts of profitable medicines, which I haue found fruitfull in mine owne vlcers; the which although they be not altogether healed, haue desisted to fester. I shew others the right way [...] which I haue learned too late: and after I haue beene too long wearied with wandring and tracing heere and there, I cease not to crie out. Flie all those things which eyther please the common sort, or casualtie attributeth: runne not after casuall benefites, but rather suspicious­ly and fearfully apprehend, and intertaine all vncertaine pleasures. Both wilde beast and fish is bewitched with the baite is laid for them. Thinke you that these are the giftes of Fortune? Trust mee, they are her lyings in waite; what one soeuer of vs would liue a sweet life, let him flie as much as he may these li­m [...]d benefits, wherein we most miserably be deceiued. We think to enjoy them, and they enjoy vs: this course carrieth vs to a down [...]fall. The issue of a life so eminent is to fall; and that which is worse, it is impossible for vs to stand, when as [...]elicitie hath begunne to transport vs, and carrie vs hither and thither: at least wise eyther content thy selfe with such things as are good and certaine, or be thou possessor and lord of thy selfe. Such as doe this, fortune doth not only [Page 173] ouerturne them, but casteth headlong and crusheth them. Remember there­fore to obserue this wholsom and fruitfull forme of life, in affoording thy body no further nourishment, then may suffice to continue thee in good health: cha­stise the same seuerely, lest it rebell against the soule. Let thy meat appease thy hunger, thy drinke asswage thy thirst, thy coat couer thee from cold, thy house be a defence against those things as may offend thy bodie. It skilleth not whe­ther it be builded of Turfe or rich Marble. Know that a man is as well couered with Thatch as with Golde. Contemne all these things which superfluous la­bour preferreth eyther for shew or ornament. Thinke that there is nothing admi [...]able in thy selfe, but thy minde, to which nothing is great, which euen it selfe is great. If I discourse this with my selfe, if I conferre this with posteritie, thinkest thou not that I profit more, then when as vpon demaund I passe my bond for my friend, or set my hand and seale in testimonie to a Testament, or should giue my hand and suffrage to a candidate in the Senate house? Beleeue me, those that seeme to do least [...] doe the greatest things; for they intreat both of diuine and humane matters. But it is high time for me now to make an end, and to pay that impost that I owe for this Epistle: it shall not be at mine owne ex­pence, but on Epicurus charges; in whom this day I read this sentence: Thou must of necessitie serue Philosophie, to the end thou mayest obtaine true libertie. Hee that submitteth and subiecteth himselfe to her, is on the instant made a free­man; for to serue her is to be at libertie. Thou wilt thinke it strange peraduen­ture why I vsurpe so often the Epicures words, rather then those of other men; but wherefore thinkest thou not that those sayings are common and publique? How manie things are they which the Poets haue written, which haue beene or ought to be spoken by the Philosophers? I mention not the Tragedians nor those Poems of ours, which are called Togatae; for these haue also some seuerity, and are the mean betwixt Comedies & Tragedies: how many eloquent verses are there in vse euen amongst the Cynicks? How many things of Publius, which not only exceed the Commodies, but are worthy to be inserted in Tragedies? I will repeat one of his verses, which appertaineth to Philosophie, and to this part which now last of all we debated of, wherein he denieth that we ought to account casuall things our owne;

Each thing is forraine that befals by wishing.

I remember this Verse likewise of thine, not much better but more succinct;

It is not thine that fortune made thine.

Neyther will I let slip that likewise which was farre better set downe by thee:

The good that might be giuen, may be bereft.

I require no acquittance for these; for I pay thee with thine owne.

EPIST. IX.

A part and explication also of the former: that a wise-man seeketh not men, but is con­tented with himselfe. What then? Not a friend also; yea can he likewise be with­out him: he can lose him, and hauing lost him, can repaire him againe. In himselfe is the fruit and pleasure whilst he prouideth him. What for his owne cause as the Epi­cures thinke? No, but rather for another, whom he may profit, for whom he may vn­dergo danger, for whom he may die: the reward of vertue is it selfe. At length more copiously and subtilly: how farre content with himselfe, how farre not; and in words some Stoicall distinctions.

THou desirest to know, whether vpon iust ground the Epicure in a certaine Epistle of his, reprehendeth those that say, that hee that is perfectly wise is content with himselfe, and that for this cause he hath no neede of a friend: this is obiected by the Epicure to S [...]lpho, and those who think that the impassibilitie of the mind is their chiefest good. We shall fall into ambiguitie, if we shall striue significant­ly to expresse the Greeke word [...] in one word, and call it Impatience. For the contrarie of that which we would expresse may be vnderstood: for we in­tend, him that despiseth all sense of euill, let him be conceiued that can endure no euill: see therefore whether it be better eyther to say an inuulnerable mind, or a minde setled beyond all patience. The difference which is betwixt them and vs is this; our wise-man ouercommeth each incommoditie whatsoeuer, but feele [...]h the same; theirs hath not so much as a sense thereof. In this we ac­cord, we say that a wise-man is contented with himselfe, yet notwithstanding that he will haue a friend, a neighbour, a companion, although he himselfe suf­ficeth, and in such sort sufficeth, that sometimes he is contented with a part of himselfe. For if eyther a sickenesse or enemie hath taken his hand from him, if any accident hath bereft him of his eye, that which remaineth with him shall su [...]fice him, and as ioyfull shall he be in his maimed and mangled bodie, as hee could be were it whole. He had rather that he wanted nothing; neuerthelesse he desireth not that which he wanteth. Thus is a wise-man so farre content with himselfe, not that he will be without a friend, but that he can be; which is as much to say, as that he beareth patiently the losse of a friend, without a friend he shall neuer be; it lyeth in his power to repaire him as soone as him listeth. As Phidias hauing lost one statue, can suddenly fashion another; so this good Artesan of amitie suddenly substituteth another friend in the place of him that is lost. If thou demandest of me, how he can so suddenly make and repaire so many friendships, I will tell thee, if this first all be agreed betweene vs, that I re­main acquit of the debt of this letter. I will shew thee, saith HECATON, a means to increase loue without medicine, hearb, or inchantment: if thou wilt be beloued, loue. But there is not only a pleasure in the fruition of an old & ancient amitie, but like­wise in the creation of a new: and the same difference is between him that hath a friend alreadie gotten, and him that is [...] getting, as between the laborer when he [...]oweth and when he reapeth. Attalus the Philosopher was wont to say, that it was a farre more pleasant thing to make a friend, then to haue a friend; as it is more agreeable to a painter to paint, then to haue finished his picture. This at­tention which he applyeth to his worke, hath in it selfe such sweetnesse, that he cannot be partaker of that that hath set his last hand to his labour: after hee hath painted, he possesseth the fruit of his art, but he tooke pleasure in the arte [Page 175] it selfe when he painted. The youth of our children is more fruitfull vnto vs, but their infancie more sweet. And to returne to our purpose [...] the wise-man although he be content with himselfe, will notwithstanding haue a friend, if to no other end but to exercise his amitie, will not endure that so great a vertue should remaine without vse, not (as Epicurus said in the same Epistle) to haue some one to assist him when he is sicke, or to succour him if he be in prison and necessitie, but contrariwise to the end he may haue some one whom he may as­sist and succour being sicke, relieue and ransome being in need and captiuitie: for he hath an euill intention, that onely respecteth himselfe, when he maketh friendship [...] so shal he end his friendship euen as he began the same. He that hath purchased himselfe a friend, to the intent he may be succoured by him in pri­son, will take his flight as soone as he feeleth himselfe deliuered from his bonds. These are those kindes of friendships, which the common sort call Temporarie. He that is made a friend for profit sake, shall please as long as he may be profita­ble: so those that are in felicitie see themselues inuironed with a multitude of friends, & where the distressed make their abode there is nothing but solitude: [...]or such manner of friends flie those places where they shall bee proued: from thence we see so many wicked examples of som forsaking for feare, of some be­traying for feare. It is necessarie that the beginning & the end haue correspon­dence. He that hath begun to be a friend because it is expedient, he that hath thought that there is a gaine in friendship beside it selfe, may well be induced and suborned against the same, by the offer of a greater gaine. For what cause then doe I entertaine a friend? To the end to haue one for whom I may die, whom I may accompanie in banishment, and for whose life and preseruation I may expose my selfe to danger and death. For the other, which onely regardest profit, and that makest account of that which may yeelde thee commoditie, is rather a traffique then a friendship. Certaine it is that friendship hath in some sort a similitude and likenesse to the affections of louers. And not vnfitly may a man call this passion a foolish amitie. But the scope of loue is neyther gaine, nor ambition, neyther glorie; but despising all other consideration of himselfe, hee kindleth in our soules the desire of the beloued forme, vnder hope of a mutuall and reciprocall amitie. And who dare say that a vicious habitude is produced from a cause more honest. But if thou wilt say vnto me, that if friendship be so desired a thing in it selfe, it behoueth not a wise-man who is contented with himselfe to follow the same for any other consideration, how honest soeuer it be, then for the beautie that remaineth in the same: and that it is an abate­ment of the maiestie and dignitie thereof, to obtaine the same for any other re­spect. I will answere thee my friend Lucilius, that where we say that the wise­man is contented with himselfe, is badly interpreted by diuers men. They ex­clude euery way the wise-man from euery place, and inclose him within him­selfe. But we must distinguish what and how farre this word extendeth. The wise-man is contented with himselfe to liue happely, but not to liue. To this diuers things are requsit; to that there needeth no more then an intire and e­rected minde, and such as despiseth fortune. I will shew thee how Chrysippus di­stinguisheth them: He saith that a wise-man wanteth nothing, and yet hath neede of many things: a foole hath neede of nothing [...] because he can make vse of nothing, but wanteth all things. The wise-man hath neede of hands and eies, and diuers other parts of him for the ordinarie vses of life, yet neuerthelesse he wanteth nothing: for to haue neede importeth necessitie; but to him that is wise nothing is necessarie. Thus although he be content with himselfe, yet de­sisteth [Page 176] he not to make vse of his friends, but desireth to haue more, but not in re­gard that he hath need of them to liue happily, for he can liue happily without his friends. The soueraigne good seeketh not externall instruments, it is whol­ly accomplished in it selfe. It beginneth to bee subiect vnto fortune, [...]f it haue neede to seeke any part of it selfe out of it selfe. But yet what shall a wise-mans life be, if he be left in prison without friends, or if in some strange country he be abandoned of all the world, or retained in som long Nauigation, or cast on some desert and vnknowne shoare? Euen as Iupiter, when in the dissolution of the world, and the confused mixture of the gods all into one [...] when the nature of things beginning to cease by little and little, he reposeth himselfe, and retireth himselfe into himselfe, giuen ouer to his owne thoughts. The like doth the wise-man, he is hidden in himselfe, he is only with himselfe: but whilst it is law­full for him to order his affaires, he is contented with himselfe: he marrieth a wife; he is contented with himselfe: he bringeth vp children, hee is content in himselfe; and yet would he not liue, if he should liue without mankinde. No pro [...]it but a naturall instinct inciteth him to entertain friendship: for as in other things we haue a certaine in bred sweetnesse, so haue we of friendship. Euen as solitude is odious, so is companie agreeable: euen as nature associateth man with man, so likewise is there a certaine instinct in this, that maketh vs desirous of friendships; notwithstanding although he be most affectionate to his friends; although he equall and oftentimes preferre them before himselfe, yet shall all his good be inclosed, and bounded within himselfe, and he shall speake as Stil­pon did, I meane him against whom Epicurus disputed in his Epistle: for hauing, vpon the surprisall and taking of the Cittie wherein he liued, lost his wife and children, and himselfe left desolate (yet neuertheles happie and content) deliue­red from the publique ruine & desolation. Demetrius he that was surnamed Po­liorcetes, that is to say the destroyer of Citties, demanded of him if he had lost nothing. No (said he) I haue lost nothing, because all my goods are with me. Be­hold how this great and generous personage is victorious ouer the victorie of his owne proper enemie. I haue not (saith he) lost any thing. He compelled him to doubt, whether he were a conqueror, or no. All my goods, saith he, are with me, that is to say, iustice, vertue, temperance, prudence, and especially to thinke nothing good that may be taken away. We wonder at some creatures that trauerse the fire without any harme; how much more admirable was this man, that without losse or harme escaped both fire, sword and ruine? Doest thou see how farre more easie it is, to conquer a whole Nation then one man? This voyce is common to him with the Stoicke, who in his owne person bea­reth away his goods without hurt, thorow the middest of Citties burned downe, because he is content in himselfe: himselfe is the scope of his owne fe­licitie. Thinke not that we alone are they that vtter these great and generous words. Epicurus himselfe that reprehendeth Stilphon, hath spoken to the like ef­fect; which take in good part, although I haue payed thee this daies rent alrea­die: Whosoeuer (saith he) supposeth not his owne sufficient to content him, though he be the Lord of this whole world, yet is he miserable. Or if thou thinke it better spo­ken in this sort (for we must relie on sense, not on words) Hee is miserable that thinketh not himselfe most happie, although he command the whole world. And to the end thou mayest know, that these senses are common, which nature infuseth in­to all in generall, thou shalt finde that in the Cynique Poet,

He is not blest that thinkes himselfe not so.

[Page 177] For what preuayleth it thee of what reckoning or estate thou art of, if in thine owne iudgement it seeme but abiect? What then mayest thou say, if he that is vnworthily rich, and he who is lord ouer diuers other men, but slaue vnto farre more, calleth himselfe happie; shall he be so? I tell thee that thou oughtest not to regard that which he saith, but that which he thinketh; and not that onely which he thinketh one day, but ordinarily. But doe not feare lest an vnworthy man should enioy so great a good: to no one but a wise-man can his goods yeeld any pleasure; all follie laboureth with loathing of it selfe.

EPIST. X.

That solitude is only good to those that are good, and haue profited in goodnesse, to others otherwise: for wicked and foolish men commit most sinne therein, being remoued from a reformer and left to themselues. By the way some precepts of vowes, and that we ought not to conceiue any thing, except that which we durst make knowne to eue­rie man.

SO it is, I change not mine opinion, but counsaile thee to flie the great assemblies, yea the least; and not the least onely, but the frequentation of one alone. I finde not any man with whom I would haue thee to converse. Consider a little the iudgement that I haue of thee; I dare well trust thy selfe to thy selfe. Cra [...]es the Auditor of that Stilpon, of whom I made mention in my former Epistle, when he perceiued a young man walking apart by himselfe, asked him what he did there all alone? I speake, said the young man, vnto my selfe. Take heed, I pray thee, replyed Crates, that thou speake not with a wicked man. We are ac­customed to obserue those that mourne and feare, when they retire themselues apart, for feare lest they abuse their solitude. There is no imprudent man that ought to be left alone: for then is the time that they complot and deuise their euill designes, and studie how to effect their euill intents, both to themselues and others: then dispose they their vnlawfull desires: at that time the minde discouereth and publisheth that which before time their feare or shame enfor­ced them to conceale: then animate they their boldnesse, quicken they their lusts, and awaken their choler. To conclude, the onely good that solitude hath in it selfe, which is to commit nothing to any man, and to feare no reuealer, that is lost to a foole: for he discouereth and betrayeth himselfe. Consider thou that which I hope, or rather that which I promise my selfe of thee (for to hope is a word of vncertaine good) I finde not any man with whom I could better finde in my hart that thou shouldst be conuersant, then with thy selfe. When I called to remembrance the high and generous discourses that I haue heard thee vt­ter, I did congratulate with my selfe, and said, These are not words onely, but these wordes haue their foundations; this man is not of the vulgar, he tendeth to safetie. Continue then my friend Lucilius, and speake alwayes after this man­ner, liue continually thus, that one thing abase thee not, neyther master thy cou­rage. Giue thankes vnto god for the auncient vowes thou hast made vnto him, and recommend vnto him all the new thou hast conceiued: aske at his hands a good mind, and first of all pray vnto him for the health of thy spirit, and next for that of thy bodie. Why shouldest thou not oftentimes make these vowes vn­to him? boldly beseech god, since thou intendest to aske nothing of him that is [Page 178] another mans. But to the end that according to my custome I may accompany this letter of mine with some present, receiue that which I haue found to day in Athenodorus: Then know that thou art disburdened of all euill desires, when thou hast attained so farre, that thou demand nothing at gods hands, but that which may be requi­red of him openly. For how great at this day is the madnesse of men? They mumble betwixt their teeth some vileinous prayers, and are suddenly silent if any man yeeld an eare vnto them, supposing to hide that from men which they are not ashamed to discouer vnto God: iudge then if this precept should not be profitable; So liue with men as if God saw thee, so speake with God as if men should heare thee.

EPIST. XI.

That he hoped well of LVCILIVS his friend, in whom appeared much shamefastnesse and blushing. That the same is sometimes naturall, and cannot be shaken off by any precepts, and followeth a wise-man also. that somtimes it appeareth in euill men, and is a signe of euill. Then he citeth a wholsome admonition of EPICVRVS. That we ought alwayes represent vnto our selues a good man, who might restraine vs as a Tutor; and that we should doe and speake all things as if he were present.

THat honest natured man thy friend hath spoken with me. The first words he vttered, incontinently testified vnto me how great his hurt was, and how good his spirit, and how much he had pro­fited in the study he had enterprised: he left me a taste, whereun­to I assure my selfe he will answer; for I haue taken him vpon the sudden, and he hath spoken vnto me without preparation. When he recolle­cted himselfe he easily blushed, which is a good signe in a young man, yea, so blushed as he could not moderate it. I doubt not but when he shall be best re­tired, and despoyled of all his vices, that then this complexion will accompanie him, yea, euen then when perfect wisedome hath possessed him. For those vices which are connaturall eyther in minde or bodie, cannot be wholly defaced by any industrie. That which is borne with vs may be sweetned and corrected by arte, but neyther mastered or rooted out. It hath bin noted that the most assured men in this world, at such time as they presented themselues before a great as­sembly, to discourse of any thing, were no lesse troubled with a cold sweat, then they that are wearie and pant with trauell: to some their knees tremble, to o­thers their teeth chatter, their tongue varies, their lips simper. Neyther disci­pline nor vse can wholly take from them these imperfections: for nature exerci­seth his force herein, and admonisheth each one of his defects and weakenesse, and I know that blushing is to bee numbred amongst these things. For oft­times wee obserue that it spreadeth it selfe, and flusheth euen in the face of the grauest men, yet is it more apparent in young men, who haue more heate and are of a soft nature, notwithstanding the eldest are not exempt from the [...]ame. Some there are that are neuer so much to be feared then when they blush, as if at that instant they had lauished out all their shamefastnesse. Then was Sylla most violent when his face was most redde. There was nothing more soft then Pompeis countenance. For he neuer spake in solemne companie with­out blushing. And I remember that Fabianus did as much, being summoned by the Senate to depose in a certain matter, and herein his blushing did maruei­lously become him, This happeneth not thorow the feeblenesse of the mind, [Page 179] but rather from the noueltie of the accident, which although it shake not, yet moueth it these which are not accustomed and exercised, and who by a na [...]urall facilitie and tendernesse of their bodie, are subiect to blushing. For as th [...]re a [...] some who haue their bloud both good and well rempered, so othersome haue it moueable, and readie to flush vp into the face. No wisedome, as I haue said, can take away this infirmitie, otherwise nature it selfe should be subiect therun­to, if wisedome had power to raze out those vices which she had imprinted in vs. That which attendeth vs thorow the condition of our birth, and the tem­perature of our bodies, when the mind hath much and long time composed it self, will remain continually. We cannot eschue these things at our pleasures, no more then we can command them to come at our will. The Commedians who imitate affections, who expresse feare and trembling, who represent sorrow, are accustomed to counterfeit shamefastnesse after this manner: they cast downe their countenance, they speak softly, they fix their eyes on the ground, but blush they cannot; for blushing may n [...]yther be prohibited nor commanded. Wise­dome promiseth nothing against those things; profiteth nothing: such things as these receiue no law but from themselues; they come against our wils, and depart without asking leaue. Now this Epistle requireth a clausuall; receiue then from me this precept, as most necessarie and behouefull for thee, & which I wish thee alwayes to retain in memorie: We ought to chuse out som good man, and alwaies fix him be [...]ore our eies, that we may so liue as if he alwayes lookt on, & do al things as if he continually beheld vs. This, O my friend Lucilius, is one of Epicurus pre­cepts. He intendeth to giue vs a Guardian and a Tutor, and not without cause. The greatest part of sinnes is taken away, when a witnesse is alwayes present with him that would offend. Let the minde therfore propose vnto it selfe some personage that she respecteth, by whose authoritie shee may make her secret more holy and more religious. O how happie is he that not onely reformeth his actions but his thoughts! Happie is he that can respect one of that sort, that by the onely remembrance of him he can reforme his minde: who can respect in that sort shall suddenly be made worthie to be respected himselfe. Choose therefore Cato, or if he seeme vnto thee ouer-sharp and seuere, choose L [...]lius, who is more facile and sweet: choose him whose life and wordes shall be most agreeable vnto thee, and fixing alwayes before thine eyes his minde and coun­tenance, take him eyther for thy guide or thine example. It behoueth vs to haue some one, according to whose maners we may conforme our own. Such things as are depraued, are not corrected but by rule.

EPIST. XII.

He pleasantly discourseth of his olde age, and sheweth how he was admonished thereof in his countrey-house, but so admonished that it was without griefe. That his olde age must not be tedious but pleasant, and lesse subiect to vices. That all life is short, but whatsoeuer to be made ours by vse, and that hand is to be laide thereon. Let vs daily say and thinke we haue liued.

ON which side soeuer I turne my selfe I perceiue the proofes of mine olde age: I repaired lately to my countrey-farme, which adioyneth the Cittie, and complayned of my daily expence in re­parations, and my Bayliffe that had the keeping thereof answe­red me, that it was not his fault, alleaging that he had done the [Page 180] best that he could, but that the building was ouer-olde and ruinous; yet not­withstanding it was I my selfe that builded it, I leaue it to thee to iudge of mee, since the stones of mine age decay so much through antiquitie. Being touched herewith I tooke occasion to be displeased with him vpon euery first thing that encountreth me in my walke. It well appeareth, said I, that [...]hese Plane trees are not well laboured, they are altogether leauelesse, their boughes are knottie and withered, and their stockes couered with mosse and filthinesse: this would not happen if any man had digged about them, and watred them as they ought to be. He sweareth by my Genius, that he doth his vttermost inde­uour, and that he hath neglected them in no manner, but that the trees were olde. Then remembred I my selfe that I had planted them with mine owne hands, and seene them beare their first leafe. Turning my selfe to the doore, what decrepit fellow is that, said I, that for his age is left at the gate as dead bo­dies are wont to be, for he looketh outward? Whence came he? What pleasure hast thou to carrie forth the carkasse of a strange man? Knowest thou me not, saith he? I am Felicio to whom thou wert wont to bring childish gifts; I am the sonne of Philo [...]itus thy Bayliffe, thy play-fellow. Vndoubtedly, said I, this man doateth. My darling then is become an infant; vndoubtedly it may so be, for he is almost toothlesse. This owe I to my Farme, that my olde age appeareth vnto me which way soeuer I turne my selfe. Let vs then embrace and loue the same [...] it is wholly replenished with agreeable delights, if a man know how to make vse of it. The Apples are neuer so good then when they begin to wither and ripen. Infancie is must agreeable in the end thereof. To those that delight in carrowsing, the last draught is most pleasant, that which drowneth him in wine, and consummateth his drunkennesse. Whatsoeuer most contenting, all pleasure hath contained in her selfe, is deferred till the end. The age that de­clineth is also most agreeable, when as yet it is not wholly decr [...]pit and spent: neyther iudge I that age, without his particular pleasure, whose foote is almost in the graue, or thus succeedeth in place of pleasure that he needeth none. O how sweet and pleasant a thing is it to see a mans selfe discharged of all coue­tousnesse! But thou mayest say that it is a tedious thing, to haue death alwayes before a mans eyes: first of all this ought as well to be presented to a yong as to an olde mans eyes; for we are not called by the Censor according to our estate, and there is none so old that hopeth not to liue at least one day longer: and one day is a degree of life; for all our age consist [...]th of manie parts, and is a spheare that hath diu [...]rs circles, the one inclosed within the other. And one there is that incloseth and comprehendeth all the rest, which is that of the Natiuity vntill death; another that excludeth the yeares of youth, another that containeth all child-hood; after these succeedeth the yeare which incloseth all, the time by the multiplication whereof life is composed. In the circle of the yeare is the moneth, and in that of the moneth is the day, which is the least of all: yet not­withstanding he hath his beginning and his end, his rise and his set. And for this cause Heraclitus that was called Scotinus, by reason of the obscuritie of his speech, said that one day is like to all which another hath interpreted after ano­ther manner to wit, that one day is like to all; in number of houres: and he said true; for if a day be the time of foure and twentie houres, it is necessarie that they should be all alike, because the night hath that which the day hath lost: another said that one day was like to all, by reason of the conformitie and re­semblance; for there is nothing in the space of a very long time, that thou shalt not finde in one day the light and the night, the turnes and returnes of the hea­uens. [Page 181] The shortnesse and length of the nights make these things more plainely appeare. Therefore ought we to dispose of euery day, in such sort as if it did leade vp the rereward of our time, and should consummate our liues. Pa [...]uius he that vsurped ouer Syria, being buried in the euening, being buried in his wine, and those meates which hee had caused to be richly and sumptuously prepared for him, as if he himselefe had solemnized his owne obsequies, caused himselfe to be transported from his banquet to his bedde, in such manner, that amidst the dances and clapping of hands of his curtezans, it was sung to the Musique, He hath liued, he hath liued: and no day ouer-passed his head wherein he buried not himselfe after this manner. That which he did of an euill conscience let vs performe with a good, and addressing our selues to our rest, let vs ioyful­ly and contentedly say,

I haue liued, and ended the course that fortune gaue me.

If God vouchsafe vs the next morrow, let vs receiue the same with thanksgi­uing. He is thrice-happie, & assuredly possessed of himselfe that expecteth the next day without care. Whosoeuer hath said I haue liued, doth daily rise to his profite. But now I must close my letter: What, sayest thou, shall it come to me without any present? Doe not feare, it shall bring somwhat with it. Why said I somewhat? It will be a great deale. For what can be more excellent then this sentence, It bringeth vnto thee? It is an euill thing to liue in necessitie, but there is no necessitie to liue in necessitie: for the way that leadeth vnto libertie is on euery side open, short, & easie to keepe. Let vs giue God thanks for this, that no man can be constrained to liue, and that it is lawfull for euery one to treade necessitie vnder his feete. Thou wilt say, that these words are of Epicurus. What hast thou to do [...] with another mans? That which is true is mine, I will perseuer to vrge Epicurus vnto thee, that they who sweare and consent to the words, and consider not what is spoken, but by whom; let them know, that those things are best that are common.

EPIST. XIII.

He excellently informeth against casualties, and [...]rageth against them: But especi­ally he aduiseth vs not to be tormented with the [...]eare of things to come; he a [...]weth them to be vncertaine, and such as may not fall out. He concludeth therefore that [...]ll feare is to be tempered by hope. Then addeth he this, full of farre more confidency; Doe and teach things to come, they are of God, and for our good.

I Know that thou hast much courage; for before I instructed thee with wholsom precepts, and such as subdue aduersitie, thou wert contented enough to exercise thy selfe against fortune, and hast assured thy selfe also farre more, since thou hast made tryall of thy forces, and grapled with her hand to hand; which can neuer giue an assured proofe of themselues, but where as many difficulties shall ap­peare on euery side, yea, sometimes neerely assault them. In like manner a true mind, and such as will not subiect it selfe to other mens wils, approueth it selfe: This is his touch stone. The wrestler cannot enter lists with an vndaunted courage, who hath neuer beene sharpely encountred and beaten. He that hath [Page 182] oftentimes seene his bloud shed, whose teeth haue be [...]ne shattered by a fist. H [...] that hauing beene ouerthrowne hath made his enemie lose his footing, that be­ing cast downe hath not lost his courage, that as oftentimes as he hath been [...]oy­led recouered new footing and became more fell and furious, he that, I say en­treth the fielde with the greatest assurance. And to persist in this similitude; Fortune hath oftentimes been aboue thee, yet hast thou neuer at any time yeel­ded thy selfe her prisoner, but hast alwayes restored thy selfe, and made head against her with more courage and alacritie: and in truth also a generous mind getteth ordinarily some aduantage when he is prouoked; notwithstanding if thou thinkest it good, accept some forces from me to strengthen and defence thy selfe more and more. Diuers things, my Lucilius, do more feare th [...]n hurt vs, & oftentimes we are more troubled by opinion then eff [...]ct. I reason not with th [...]e at this time in a Stoicall language, but somewhat more submisly and vul­garly: for we say that all these things, which cause in vs these feares and gro­nings, are but light and contemptible. Let vs omit these great words, yet not­withstanding most true. I onely admonish thee not to make thy selfe miserable before thy time, by fearing that those things are wholly neere vnto thee, which happily will neuer befall thee, or at leastwise are not yet happened. Somethings therefore doe more afflict vs then they ought, some before they ought, other­some torment vs when they should not at all. We eyther augment our euill, or presuppose the same, or imagine them to our selues vpon no ground at all: that first because the matter is in controuersie, and the pleas are alreadie re­corded; let vs deferre for the present. That which I terme light thou conten­dest to be most grieuous: I know that some doe laugh in their tortures, others groane for a little stroake. We afterwards shall see whether these things are to be valued by their owne forces or our weakenesse. First graunt m [...] this, that as oftentimes as thou shalt be amongst men, that shall endeuour to perswade thee that thou art miserable, thou wilt grow into consideration with thy selfe, not of that which thou hearest, but of that which thou feelest: consult first of al with thy patience, & ask thou thy selfe. Who should better know tha [...] which toucheth thee then thy sel [...] Speake vnto thy selfe thus; Why is it that these men lament my fortune? [...] tremble they, as if they feared that the [...] ­gion of my misfortune should attaint and torment them? That which I [...] is it not more infamous then dan [...]erous? Enquire of thy selfe after this ma [...]ner: Am I not perplexed and sorrow [...]ll without cause? Make I not that an euill which is not? How sayest thou, [...]hall I vnderstand whether the things I feare be [...]yther v [...]ne or true? Take this rule to discerne the same: eyther present, or future, or both terrifie vs: the iudgement of the present is facile, if the bodie be free, healthfull, and without any griefe, caused by some iniurie done vnto thee. We shall see what shall happen hereafter, to day thou hast no neede to complain. But it will come. First consider whether there be any certaine argu­m [...]nts of thy future misfortune; for, for the most part we are troubled with su­spicions, and affrighted by the illusions of common report, which is accustom­ed to end whole warres, but much more particular men. Vndoubtedly so it is my friend Lucilius, we are quickly conceited and ouer-ruled by common opi­nion: we checke not those things which cause our feares, neyther shake them off: but tremble thereat, and turne our backs like those whom a cloude of dust, raised by the triumphing of a troupe of beasts putteth to flight, or those that are dismayed by a report that runneth abroad, that hath neyther ground nor au­thor. And by mishap, I know not how it commeth to passe that false and fained [Page 183] things doe trouble vs farre more then true; for the true haue a certain measure, the others are deliuered vs to a wandring coniecture, and license of the fearefull minde, which is alreadie affrighted: whence it happeneth that there are no dis­mayes so pernicious and irremediable then those that are mad and distracted; for all the rest are without reason, but this without minde. Let vs diligently in­quire vpon this businesse; Is it likely some mischance will happen? It is not straight-wayes true. How many vnexpected things haue chanced? How manie expected neuer came to passe? And put the case it should happen, what helpeth it to meet with a mans sorrow? We shal partake the pain too ouertimely when it commeth, meane while let vs promise to our selues some better successe; at the leastwise it shall be so much good time gotten. And againe, many things may fall out, by meanes whereof the danger when it shall be more, yea, almost borne by vs, eyther shall subsist or wholly passe away, or happily shall be diuer­ted on another mans head. Oft-times the flames haue broken and giuen passage thorow the middest of their furie, to auoyde themselues. Such a one hath falne from the top of a house that was softly layde when hee light on the ground. Sometimes he that was exposed to his last punishment, hath beene saued euen in the verie attempt of execution, and some haue suruiued to burie those who should haue beene their hangmen: euill fortune it selfe is neuer without her in­constancie and leuitie. It may be the mischance shall come, it may be it shall not come: and meane while that it is not come, at least propose vnto thy selfe that better fortune may befall thee. But contrariwise, that happeneth sometimes, that euen then when there is no appearance of euill presage, the minde faineth to it selfe false imaginations, or interpreteth some word of a doubtfull significa­tion to the worst, or proposeth to it selfe the indignation and displeasure of som one greater then it is, and dreameth not how much hee is incensed, but how much he may if so be he be prouoked. But there is no more occasion of liuing, there is no end of miserie, if a man feare as much as he may feare. It behoueth contrariwise to reiect and contemne the feare it self [...] which is attended euerie way with apparant occasions. Herein it is, where [...] prudence and the force of ou [...] vn [...]anding ought principally to serue [...]wise it be sitteth vs to [...] one vice by another, and to temp [...] [...] hope. For there is no­t [...] [...]o certaine of all that which a man may [...] [...]hat is not also more cer­ [...]ine, that the things that are feared may [...] and vanish, and those that are hoped for deceiue. Balance therefor [...] th [...] [...] with thy hope; and if there be doubt on all sides, beleeue that which be [...]keth thee, and thou co [...]ldest de­sire should fall out; and although thou s [...]lt haue more and [...] probable appearances for to feare, notwithstanding dispose thy selfe to f [...]uour the better part, and cease to afflict thy selfe. Discourse alwayes in thy vnderstanding, that the greatest part of mortall men are troubled and perplexed in themselues for a thing wherein there is no euill, neyth [...]r can there be any euill, and the reason hereof is, because no man resisteth himselfe when he beginneth to be shaken and assaulted. No man pretendeth to take the paines to verifie his feare, no man thinketh with himselfe that the author is a vaine man, that eyther might haue dreamed the same, or beleeued it lightly. We yeelde our selues wholly to him that first commeth and reporteth any thing vnto vs: we feare the incer­taine as certaine, neyther can we keep any measure. A doubt doth incontinent­ly become feare. But I am ashamed to talke after this manner with thee, and to applie vnto thee so sleight remedies: when any other man shall say vnto thee; be confident that which thou fearest shall not befall thee, say thou quite [Page 184] contrary, and when it shall happen, what of that? Perhaps it shall be for my good and aduantage if it happen, and this death shall doe honour to my life. Ceuta hath made Socrates most famous and renowned. Wrest from Cato the sword that assured his libertie, and thou shall detract from him the greatest part of his glorie. True it is, that I am too tedious in exhorting thee, who hast no need to bee exhorted, but instructed and admonished onely. These are not contrarie to thy nature, thou art borne to accomplish all that which wee speake of; and by so much more oughtest thou to be carefull, to augment and beautifie the graces that nature hath giuen thee. But now is it high time to fi­nish my Epistle, as soone as I haue signed it with some high and generous sen­tence, to be conuayed vnto thee: Amongst other euils folly hath likewise this, that it beginneth alwayes to liue. Consider, worthy Lucilius, what these things signifie, and thou shalt vnderstand how loathsome mens leuitie is, who are alwayes oc­cupied to proiect new foundations of life, and in their last time bethinke them of new hopes. If thou cast thine eye on euery man, thou shalt meete with olde men that addresse themselues to ambition, trauell, and negotiations. And what is there more absurd, then for an olde man to begin to liue? I would not alledge the author of this sentence, if that it were not one of the most secret, and not couched amongst the vulgar speeches of Epicurus, which I haue permitted my selfe both to vsurpe and adopt as mine owne.

EPIST. XIIII.

A most wise Epistle. He admonisheth that care must be had of the bodie and of life, but not too much: but that three things are feared touching the bodie; Pouertie, Sicke­nesse, and Violence, but especially this last, which proceedeth from powerfull men and tyrants: To the end thou mayest not feare, three things are to be auoyded; Hatred, Enuie, and Contempt. But how wisedome shall instruct, and in short words he.

I Confesse that [...]ture hath imprinted in euery one [...] [...]ffecti­on & care of [...] person. I confesse that our bodie [...] tuteli [...] and prote [...]on. I denie not but that we ought to vse [...] indulgence in the behalfe thereof, yet ought it not to holde vs in seruitude. He shall be slaue to [...]ny that will be slaue to his owne bodie, shall too much feare for the same, and referre all things vnto that. So ought we to behaue ou [...]lues, not as though it behoued vs to liue for our bodie; but as if we might not liue without the same. The too tender affection we beare vnto it, disquieteth vs with fears, chargeth vs with diuers thoughts, & exposeth and subiecteth vs to disgraces. Honestie is base to him, that maketh too much ac­count of his bodie. Reason it is that it be kept carefully, yet so, as when reason, honour, and faith requireth it, a man be ready to cast it into the middest of a fire. Let vs flie notwithstanding as much as in vs lieth, not onely the dangers, but the incommodities. Let vs secure our selues and retire vs into a place of securitie, thinking hourely, by what means we may separate from vs those things which are to be feared; of which (if I deceiue not my selfe) there are three sorts: we feare pouertie, we feare sickenesse, we feare those things that may befall vs tho­row the violence of the mightie. Of all these three is no one thing more that shaketh vs, then that which hangeth ouer vs from another mans greatnesse, for that commeth with a great noyce and tumult. The naturall euils which I haue [Page 185] reckoned vp, such as are pouerties and infirmit [...]es, doe silently assault vs: they neyther affright our eyes nor our eares, but the other mischiefe marcheth forth with greater pompe. He hath about him fire, sword, and bonds, and a troupe of greedy wilde beasts to glut themselues on our entrails. So many pri­sons, so many gallowses, so many rackes and hookes, and the stakes which men are splitted on, the tortures of drawing a man with wilde horses, and such other types of tyrannie, the variety whereof is so great, and the preparation so terri­ble. No maruell though they bring much feare with them: for euen as the hang-man, the more instruments of torture he presenteth to the condemned, the more he afflicteth him; so amongst those things that surcharge and wound our minds, those haue the greatest force that present the most obiects to the eie. This is not to inferre that other plagues, I meane famine, thirst, vlcers, and im­pos [...]umes of the inwards, and the feuor which dryeth and burneth our bo­wels, are not as tedious and painfull, but that they are hidden, hauing nothing that they may produce, or cause to martch before them. These as great armies obtaine the entry by the greatnesse of their showe and preparation. But the true remedie against these dangers, is to abstaine to prouoke them. Sometimes the people are those whom we ought to feare; sometimes, if the discipline of the Cittie be such, that diuers things are concluded by the Senate, some grati­ous men therein, or some one particular man that beares the sway of the Com­mon-wealth, and hath the gouernement ouer the people. To haue all these thy friends is too difficult, it is enough for thee that thou hast them not thine ene­mies. A wise-man therefore will n [...]uer prouoke the displeasure of the mightie, but rather will decline the same, in such sort, as in sayling the Marrin [...]r shun­neth a storm. When thou shippedst for Sicily, thou diddest cut ouer the Sea, and the vnaduised Master of thy ship contemned the threatning South [...]rnly windes, which is that winde which exasperateth the Sicilian Seas, and driueth on the shoales and whirlpooles; he shapeth not his course by the left shoare, but sayleth by that shoare which is neerer Charibdis. But some other more skilfull, would haue enquired of those of the countrey before he had embarqued him­sel [...]e, of the nature of this Sea, and of the signes which the cloudes imported, and had held his course farre aloofe from these dangerous places and whirlepools. In like sort doth the wise-man, he flyeth those that may hurt him, hauing an e­speciall regard to this, that he seeme not to flie them: for the greatest part of securitie consisteth in this, to make no show or appeareance to search the same; because that those things which a man flieth he condemneth. We must there­fore looke about vs, how we may be secure from the common sort, which wee shal bring to passe, if first of all we couet not any of those things, which set com­petitors together by the eares; and then, if we haue not any thing, that by ap­pearance of profit may make vs subiect to treacheries: I also counsaile thee that thou haue not any thing in thy bodie that thou mayest be spoyled of. No man thirsteth after a mans bloud onely, or at least-wise very few. The greater sort rather hunt after the prize then the life. A naked man walketh freely be­fore the thief [...] & in a dangerous passage a poore man findeth no man to bid him stand. Afterwards it behooueth thee, according to the auncient precept, to en­deuour thy selfe to auoyde three things; that is, to be hated, enuied, and despi­sed. Wisedome onely can shew vs how this may be affected, otherwise it is a hard thing and much to be feared, lest distrust of enuie bring vs into contempt, lest whilst we will not be trod vpon, we seeme able to be trod on. It hath beene a cause of much feare to mani [...] by hauing power to be feared. Let vs euery [Page 186] way retire our selues: it is no lesse harmefull to be contemned then to be admi­red at. Let vs therefore haue recourse vnto Philosophie, the instructions wher­of shall be as markes of dignitie vnto vs, not onely with good men, but such also as are indifferently euill: for eloquence and such other professions, which tend to moue the common sort, haue their aduersarie; but it is peaceable and reti­red, and such as intermixeth it selfe with nothing but it selfe, that neyther can be contemned, which is respected by all other artes, yea by the consent of the most wicked. Neuer shall vice obtaine so great force, neuer shall any conspire so much against vertue, but that the name of Philosophie shall alwaies remaine holy and venerable; yet must Philosophie it selfe be moderately and peacea­bly handled. True it is, that happily thou wilt obiect vnto me, that Marcus Cato hath not handled the same with that modestie, who perswaded himselfe, that he might represse by his onely counsailes the heate of ciuill warres, that thrust himselfe amidst the armies of two displeased and inraged Princes, that whereas some displeased Pompey, other som Caesar, he feared not to offend them both at once. But I will answer thee, that it may be debated, whether during that time it was wisely done of him to busie himselfe with publique affaires? What pretendest thou to doe Cato? The title of libertie was not then in questi­on; for long time before it was troden vnder foot: the question is onely whe­ther of these two eyther Caesar or Pompey shall bee master of the Common-weale: what haddest thou to doe with this quarrell? Thou haddest no part herein; the question was to choose a Soueraigne: what could it auaile thee which of them it were that conquered? The better cannot conquer, and hee may be the worst that shall be subdued; he cannot be the better that getteth the masterie. I haue touched the last parts of Catoes life, but neyther were his former yeares euer such, that it was conuenient for a wise-man to intermeddle with the Common-weale, which was already exposed for a pray. For what o­ther thing did he but exclaime, and cast out vnprofitable speeches, whilst the people taking him vp, playde with him like a foot-ball, spit in his face, and drew him perforce out of his place, and from the Senate-house ledde him vnto pri­son? But we shall see hereafter, whether a wise-man ought to imploy his labor in a place where it should be vtterly lost? Meane while I recall thee to [...]hese Stoicks, who excluded from the Common-weale, retired themselues to reform mens liues, and to make lawes for all mankinde, without incurring the indigna­tion of the mightie. Vndoubtedly it is more expedient for a wise-man to be­haue himselfe thus, then to goe and trouble publique customes, and cause him­selfe to be pointed at through the strangenesse of his life. What then? shall he that followeth this course be wholly safe and secured? No more may a man promise this then health to a temperate man, and yet temperance entertaineth and causeth the same. It hath beene seene sometimes that ships haue beene lost in the Hauen, but the danger is greater when they saile in the maine Sea: how much more at hand should his danger be, that intermedleth with manie affaires, and complotteth more, who cannot assure himselfe, no not in his soli­tude? The innocent is sometimes condemned, but the faultie farre more often. His arte costeth him deare, that is harmed by the verie ornaments of arte. Finally, the wise-man regardeth that which is most expedient in euery thing, and not the successe: for our deliberations are in our hands; but fortune dispo­seth of the euents, to whose iudgement a wise [...]man neuer submitteth himselfe, yet will it bring some vexation and aduersitie. The thiefe is not condemned but when he killeth. But I perceiue thou stretchest out thy hand to receiue a [Page 187] rent which this letter should bring thee, I will pay thee in golde [...] see thou how the vse and fruition of the same may be more gratefull vnto thee; He most of all possesseth riches; that least needeth them. Tell me, thou wilt say, who is the au­thor? That thou mayest know how bountifull I am, I intend to praise another mans; it is eyther Epicurus or Metrodorus saying, or some one of that sect: what skilleth it who spake it? he spake to all men. He that wanteth riches, feareth for them: but no man enuieth a good that breedeth feare: whilst he thinketh to encrease the same, he forgetteth the vse of them; it behooueth him alwaies to haue the counters in his hand, to assist at the bursse time, and visit his bookes of account: briefly, of a Master he becommeth a Factor.

EPIST. XV.

Exercise tendeth to the care of the bodie; but let it not be laborious or troublesome: easie and short sufficeth, as running, leaping, carriage of the bodie, intention of the voyce. A clause from the Epicure, to the end that life should not be deferred, content thee with the present.

THE auncients had a custome, which hath been obserued as yet to my time, to begin their letters with these words; If thou art in health, it is well; for mine owne part I am healthie. Now thinke I that he should say as well, who should begin thus: If thou attendest thy Philosophy, I am glad of it, for that in truth is to be in health. Without it the minde is sicke, and the bodie also notwithstanding it be strong and able: for it is no otherwise healthie then as a man might say, the bodie of one that is madde and troubled with the frensie. Haue care therefore especi­ally of this first health, afterwards of the second, which will not cost thee much, if thou behaue thy selfe wisely. For it is an vnseemely thing for a man that tra­uelleth to obtaine wisedom, to imploy himselfe in exercising his armes, to feed himselfe fat, and to strengthen his sides. When thou shalt make thy selfe fleshy and brawny to the vttermost thou canst imagine, yet neyther in force or waight shalt thou equall a fat and growne Oxe. Besides this, the mind being choaked vp with the great charge of thy bodie, is farre lesse agile and quicke of conceit. Containe therefore and restraine thy bodie the most that thou mayest, to the end thou mayest giue a fayrer and more spacious place and harbor vnto thy minde. They that are ouer-carefull of the same, draw after them diuers incom­modities: first of all the trauell of exercise spendeth the spirit, and disableth it to apprehend the studie of the most secret and hidden secrets. And they leade with them a traine of most dangerous reuolts and debauchments, as that foule and vilainous custome of men, occupied betweene the wine and the oyle, in whose opinion the day is happily passed, if they haue sweat well; and if in stead of that which is exhaled by sweat, they haue anew replenished their emptie sto­macks with store of another liquor. To drinke and sweat is the life of him that is sicke of the Cardiacque conuersions of the stomacke. There are certaine kindes of exercise, which are easie and short, which loose and supple the body, without great losse of time, to which we ought to haue a principall regard, as to runne, dance, leap, and vault. Choose of all these which thou wilt: the vse will make it easie vnto thee: whensoeuer thou dost retire suddenly from thy bodie to thy minde, exercise the same day and night. Shee is nourished and entertained with [Page 188] a little labour: neyther cold nor heat hinder not her exercise, no not olde age it selfe. Trauell therefore carefully after this good, which is bettered by waxing olde, yet will I not alwayes that thou hang ouer thy booke, or that thy hand be continually labouring on thy tables. There must some intermission be gran­ted to the minde; yet so, that it be not giuen ouer altogether, but remitted one­ly. The carriage of a man in a Litter or otherwise, stirreth the bodie, but hin­dereth not the studie. Thou mayest reade, dictate, speake and heare also in walking. Contemne not also the eleuation of thy voyce, which I forbid thee to raise by certaine degrees and manners, and afterwards to depresse. Againe, if thou wilt learne how thou shouldest walke, admit those whom hunger hath taught new cunnings: some there be that will temper thy pace, and obserue thy mouth as thou eatest, and will proceede so farre, as by the leuitie of thy pa­tience thou shalt giue way to their boldnesse; what then? shall thy voyce and discourse begin with clamorous accents, and in the entrance be most violently enforced? Vndoubtedly it is a thing so naturall to raise the voyce by little and little, that such as pleade are ordinarily accustomed to begin their discourse in an humble and submisse manner, and to prosecute the same with a more liuely and lowder accent. No man at the first imploreth [...]he mercie of the Iudges. Howsoeuer therefore the force of thy minde shall perswade thee sometimes to exclaime on vices vehemently, sometime more moderately, according as thy voyce and force shall enable thee: when thou hast humbled the same, and drawne it to a lower straine and pitch, so let it fall that it faile not: let it be tem­pered according to the abilitie and discretion of the speaker, and not breake out after a ru [...]icke and vnciuill manner. For it is not our intention to exercise the voyce, but our minde is, that our voyce should exercise vs. I haue disburthe­ned thee of no small businesse of requitall, now will I adde a gratefull office to these benefits. Behold a worthy precept: The life of a foolish man is ingrate, and full of [...]eare, and wholly transported with expectation of future things. But who, sayest thou, speaketh after this manner? The same that spake before. Now what life is that which in thy opinion may be called foolish, that of Babae and Ixion, the noted fooles of our time? It is not so. It is, and is called our life whom blinded couetousnesse casteth headlong vpon those things which torment vs, or at least whiles neuer content vs, to whom if any thing had beene sufficient, already it should be. Who consider not how pleasant a thing it is to demand nothing, and how magnificent a thing it is to be full in himselfe, and not to holde or acknow­ledge any thing from fortune. Remember thy selfe therefore euery houre, friend Lucilius, how great those things are to which thou hast attained hitherto, when thou hast beheld those things that march before thee [...] behold also those that march after. If thou wilt not be vngratefull towards God, and towards thine owne life, c [...]nsider how many thou leauest behinde thee. But why com­pare I thee with others? Thou hast, if thou obseruest thy selfe well [...] gone b [...] ­yond thy selfe. Prefix thy selfe certaine bounds which thou wilt not exceede or breake although thou mightest. The flattering and deceiueable blessings, and such as proue better to those that hope for them then those that enioy them, will vanish in the end. If there were any solid thing in them, they would sometime satisfie vs: or contrariwise they inuite vs to taste them onely for their appearance; and the more a man tasteth the more is he altered. But that which the incertaine fate of future time carrieth with it selfe, why should I rather in­treat fortune to bestow vpon me, or my selfe not to demaund the same? And why in demanding the same should I forget the frailtie of mankinde? Shall I [Page 189] hoord vp wealth? To what? Shall I take paines? Beholde here the last day, or if it be not, it is the next neighbour to the last.

EPIST. XVI.

That Philosophie is necessarie to life; but that is the true onely which is in action and proficient. Dispose by that thine actions and counsa [...]les. It skilleth not whether [...]ate or fortune be: for Philosophie teacheth to obey God, and contemne fortune and casu­alties. There is a clause likewise of EPICVRVS. He that liueth according to na­ture is rich. Despise opinion.

I Know, friend Lucilius, that thou perfectly vnderstandest that no man can liue happily, nay, scarcely tollerably without the studie of wisedome, and that the life is made happie by the perfection of the same, and tollerable by her onely beginning. But it suffi­ceth not onely that thou know this, it behooueth thee also to im­print it in thy soule, and assure the same by continuall cotemplation. For there is lesse to do to propose a thing which is honest, then to conserue the same, when a man hath proposed the same to himselfe. We must perseuer, and by continu­all diligence adde strength, till that which is now only a good will, may become an habituall good minde. Thou needest not therefore to court me with many affirmatiue and long discourses: for I know that thou hast profited very much. I know from what minde the things thou writest do proceed, and that they are neyther fained nor disguised: yet will I tell thee freely mine opinion. I haue alreadie some hope of thee, but not as yet an entire assurance; and if thou wilt beleeue, thou shalt conceiue no otherwise of thy selfe. Beleeue not thy selfe so suddenly and so easily. Sound and obserue thy selfe, and aboue all things se [...] whether thou hast profited, eyther in thy science or in thy life it selfe. Philoso­phie no vulgar craft, neyther is it for ostentation: it consisteth not in wordes but in deedes. She must not be made vse of to passe the time withall, or extin­guish the tediousnesse of idlenesse. She it is that formeth and conformeth the minde, that disposeth life, and guideth our actions, and sheweth vs what wee ought eyther to flie or follow. She it is that guideth the helme, and directeth their course that saile amidst the shoales and rockes of this life: without her no man is assured. Daily and hourely there fall out innumerable things which re­quire counsel, which no man may receiue from any other but her selfe. But som one may say, whereto serueth Philosophie, if there be a destinie or a God that ruleth all things, or a fortune that commandeth ouer all men? For such things as are certaine cannot be changed, and against those that are vncertaine what prouision may be made, if God hath preoccupated al the deliberations of men? If alreadie he hath determined that which ought to be done? or if fortune per­mitteth nothing vnto my counsaile? whatsoeuer be of all this, or if all this were so, we must, my Lucilius, intend Philosophie, whether that destinie detaine vs captiues to her irreuocable lawes, or God the gouernor of the world, disposeth of all things; or fortune confusedly enforceth, or altereth humane affairs, Philo­sophie must be our retreat. She will exhort vs to obey God willingly, and to re­sist fortune constantly: she will teach vs to follow God, and to beare with casual­ties. But we ar [...] not now to call in question, whether we haue any interest, and whether prouidence be in our will or power, or whether fate with ineuitable [Page 190] bondes draweth vs to his subiection, or any sudden or casuall power be our ab­solute mistris. I returne to exhort thee not to suffer thy selfe to waxe colde, or permit this heate and constancie of thy minde to be weakened. Entertaine the same in such sort, that the viuacitie and agilitie that at this present is contai­ned therin may grow into a habitude. From thy very infancie (if I haue knowne thee well) thou hast fixed thine eie on that which this present letter importeth. Peruse it well, and thou shall finde it, thou needest not maruaile at me. I conti­nue still to be liberall of other mens goods; yet are they not others, because that all that which is well said, by whomsoeuer it be spoken, I may tearme mine owne. Epicurus saith, If thou liuest according to nature, thou shalt neuer be poore; if according to opinion, thou shalt neuer be rich: nature hath neede but of a little, opinion of infinite. Be it thou were Lord of all that wealth which many mightie men doe possesse, or that fortune enricheth thee beyond the measure of a priuate man: although she couer thee with golde, and cloath thee in purple, and bring thee to that height of delights and riches, that thou mayest couer the earth with mar­ble, and mightest not onely possesse riches, but treade on them: adde herevnto moreouer pictures and statues, and what else soeuer any arte or engine hath in­uented; thou shalt learne from those to couet alwayes more. Our naturall de­sires are limited; those that are deriued from false opinion haue no end: for there is no limit from a false ground; to him that goeth in the right way, there is an end; error is infinite. Retire thy selfe therefore from vaine things, and when thou wouldest know, whether that thou askest haue a naturall or blinde desire, consider whether it may rest any where: if the neerer thou approachest it, the farther daily it flieth from thee, be assured it is not according to nature.

EPIST. XVII.

That Philosphie is not to be deferred, but, all other things laide aside, to be embraced. But I shall be poore. What if this were to be wished for? Thou shalt play the Philosopher more freely. Nature desireth but a little, and that shall not be wanting. A clause. To him that accounteth pouertie grieuous, riches will be likewise burthensome, for the defect is in the minde.

CAst away all these things if thou beest wise, or rather to the ende thou mayest be wise: then addresse thy selfe speedily and with all thy power to get a good minde. If any thing detaine thee, eyther vnbinde thee also out of the bond or breake it. I am (thou wilt say) hindered by my home [...]affaires: I will take such a course that my reuenue may maintain me, without doing any thing; to the end that pouer­tie may not be a hinderance to me, nor I to any other. Whilst thou sayest this, thou seemest not to know the power and strength of that thing whereof thou thinkest. Thou seest generally and in summe, how much Philosophie is profi­table to thee; but thou doest not subtilly examine all her parts, neither knowest thou yet how much she helpeth vs, and in what sort she may succor vs in great affaires (that I may vse Tullies words) and in what sort shee assisteth vs in great things, and applieth her selfe to the lesse things. Beleeue me, take aduice of her, she will counsell thee not to busie thy selfe about thine accounts. All then that thou searchest is to exempt thy selfe from pouertie; and what wilt thou say if it be desireable? Riches haue hindered many men from studying Philosophie: [Page 191] pouertie is alwayes free, is alwayes safe, When the enemies trumpet soundeth, the poore man knowes well that the al [...]rum threatneth not him [...] in a surprise or yeelding vp of a towne for lost, he takes no care how to get away, or what to carrie with him: if he must needs make a voyage by Sea, no man attendeth him at his entrance nor at his launching forth: he hath not so great a troupe of ser­uants to attend him, that he must needes nourish them vpon the fertilitie of a forraine countrey. For it is easie to fill a few bellies, and well taught, that de­sire but to be filled: it costeth little to appease hunger; but a dainty mouth too much. Pouertie is contented with the satisfaction and supplie of her necessitie: why then wilt thou refuse to make her thy companion, whose manners the ri­chest themselues doe imitate? If thou desirest to en [...]oy the freedome of thy minde, eyther it behooueth thee to be poore, or like a poore man. A man can­not profit in this studie without the care of frugalitie, which is a voluntarie po­uertie. Lay then apart all these excuses; Say not that thou hast not as yet all that which thou hast neede of, and that if thou mightest compasse that summe, thou wouldest retire thy selfe from the world, to consecrate thy selfe wholly vnto Philosophie. But contrariwise, she it is that ought especially to be sough [...] after, which thou deferrest and seekest to attaine last of all. By her it is by whom thou oughtest to begin. I will, sayest thou, recouer whereupon to liue: learne then afterwards how thou oughtest to get; if any thing hinder thee from liuing well, nothing hindereth thee from dying well. There is no reason that pouerty should recall vs from Philosophie, no not necessitie it selfe. We ought in her behalfe endure hunger, which diuers men haue voluntarily endured in sieges. As if the onely price of this patience was not to yeelde it selfe to the discretion of the conquerour: how much more great is that by which a perpetuall liber­tie is promised, and an assurance neyther to be affrighted by God nor man? Sometimes hunger enforceth vs to this. Whole armies haue su [...]fered extreame necessitie, yea, so great as to feede vpon the rootes of hearbes, and to support an horrible famine; and all this suffered they (to make the wonder the more) to get a Kingdome, and that which is more strange, for another mans seruice: who then will doubt to endure pouertie, and so free the minde from madnes? There needeth not any preparation for maintenance before hand. A man may attaine vnto Philosophie without prouision and supplies. But touching thy selfe, thou wilt attaine therevnto after all other things, thou esteemest it for the last instru­ment of life, or to speake more aptly, the accession. Contrariwise whether it be that thou hast any thing, apply thy selfe vnto her (for whence mayest thou know whether alreadie thou hast so much?) or be it thou hast nothing at all, seeke after her the rather, and more then any other thing. Feare not, the want of any necessarie supplyes; nature is contented with a little, to which let a wise-man accommodate himselfe: and if happily extreame necessitie doe sur­charge him, he shall escape from this life, and shall cease to be troublesome to himselfe. And if he haue wherewith to weare out and prolong the same, he will take it in good part, and will no further endeuour himselfe, but for those things that are necessarie: he will bestow that on his bellie and his backe which apper­taineth vnto them and being content with himselfe, shall laugh at the occupa­tions of the rich, and the goings and comings of those who sweat to get riches, and shall say, To what end searchest thou the longer way? Wherefore expect­est thou the gain of thy vsurie or the succession of some olde man, or the profit of merchandize, if thou canst become rich suddenly. It concerneth thee no more but to recouer wisdome, she will pay thee before hand, and giueth riches [Page 192] to whomsoeuer she maketh them seeme to be superfluous. But this were good payment for another man; for thine own part thou art rich, discharge thy selfe therefore, for thou hast too much. In euery age shalt thou finde that which is sufficient. I might in this place end my Letter, if I had not taught thee an euill custome. A man may not salute the Kings of Parthia without a present: but to thee a man may not bid adiew gratis. I will therefore borrow of Epicurus to pay thee [...] To manie the obtayning of riches hath not beene the end, but the change of their miserie. Hereat wonder I not; for vice is not in the things themselues, but in the minde. The same occasion made riches tedious, that made pouertie grie­uous. Euen as it is all one to put a sicke man into a bedde of wood, or into a bed of golde, because that into what place soeuer he be remoued, he beareth alwaies his griefe with him. In like manner, there is no difference to thrust a sicke mind into riches or into pouertie, because his euill alwayes followeth him.

EPIST. XVIII.

That a wise-man temperately [...]ehaueth himselfe in publique ryots, and is tainted little or nothing with their manners. Howsoeuer, that it is profitable some dayes to abstaine, spare and resemble the poore, it is a sore exercise to trie pouertie if it come so. A clause [...]rom EPICVRVS: wrath assisteth madnesse.

DEcember is a moneth wherein all the Cittie is much busied; euery one in publique giueth way to lasciuiousnesse, each eare is filled with the rumour and report of those preparations which are made to ryot with, as if the time were extraordinary, and that there were some difference betwixt the Saturnals and other delights. So little di [...]ference is there, that in my opinion hee seemeth to haue no way erred, that saith [...] that in times past December was a moneth, but that now it is a yeare. If I had thee heere, I would willingly inquire of thee, what in thine opinion ought to be done, whether we should change any thing of our ordinarie custome, or if (lest we should seeme to distaste the common fashion) wee should fall to, and frame our selues to doe that which other men doe: for that which was not wont to be done but in times of tumult, and in the turbulent estate of the Cittie, for pleasure and the holy-dayes sake we changed our garment. If I knew thee well, the matter being committed to thy iudgement; neyther wouldest thou permit that in all things we should resemble the round-cap multitude; neyther also in euery sort to be vnlike vnto them, except happily in these dayes especi­ally, we ought to command our mindes to retire themselues, and to abstaine from pleasures, wherein all the world is so disordered: she receiueth a most cer­taine proofe of her firmitie, if she neyther yeeld nor su [...]fer her selfe to be trans­ported by adulations, and such things as inuite her to superfluitie. But it is a matter farre more difficult, and worthie a noble mind, to be sober alone: at such time as all the people surfeiteth in drunkennesse, this hath more temperance and discretion in it selfe, not to sequester a mans selfe wholly from popu­laritie, neyther to particularize himselfe ouer-much [...] neyther intermix himselfe with them, but to do the same things that they do, but not after the same man­ner. For a man may celebrate a festiuall day without drunkennesse. But so am I pleased to tempt the constancie of thy minde, that according to the counsailes of many great men, I aduise thee to choose out certaine dayes, wherein thou [Page 193] maye [...]t content thy selfe with the least, and cheapest dyet, and mayst cloath thy selfe in a hard and course garment: say to thy selfe, Is this that which the world so much feared? In the fulnesse of thy securitie let thy mind prepare it selfe vnto aduersities, and against fortunes iniuries confirme it selfe euen in the height of her fauours. In the middest of peace the Souldier exerciseth him selfe in armes and skirmishes, and wearieth himselfe with superfluous labour, to the end he be more able and exercised when time requireth. If thou desirest a man should not [...]eare vpon any occurrence, exercise him before hand to the accident. They t [...]at euery moneth exercise themselues in imitation of pouertie, haue profited [...]o [...]arre as not to feare pouertie it selfe, which they so oftentimes had both en­t [...]ained and apprehended. Thinke not now that I command thee to go som­time [...] and take an ill supper with a poore man, contenting thy selfe with his bre [...]d an [...] I win [...], or whatsoeuer else it is, whereby luxurie smootheth ouer, and playe [...] with the tediousnesse of riches. I aduise thee that both thy bedde and thy apparrell be truely poore, and that thy bread be stale and mouldie [...] and that thou entertaine this [...]ard pittance for three or foure dayes; yea, sometimes more, to the end it may be vnto thee, not as a pastime but as a proofe. Then be­lee [...]e [...]e, my Lucilius, thou shalt leap for ioy, when being satisfied with a little, thou [...]ha [...]t vnderstand that to satisfie our selues we haue no need of fortune, for that which sufficeth necessitie she oweth vs in spite of her displeasure, yet hast thou no reason in accomplishing all this, to perswade thy selfe that thou hast done much: for what doest thou that many thousand slaues and beggers doe not daily? All the honor thou canst giue thy selfe, is, that thou doest it volunta­rily [...] It shall be as easie for thee to endure it alwayes, as to attempt it somtimes. Let vs therefore prepare our selues to all casualties, lest fortune surprise vs vn­prouided. Let vs make pouertie familiar vnto vs: we shall be more assuredly rich, if we know that it is no grieuous matter to be poore. That Master of plea­sure Epicurus had certaine dayes wherein he very sparingly and niggardly re­pressed h [...]s hunger, to proue if any thing were wanting of his full and consum­mate pleasure, o [...] how much wanted, or whether it were a thing of that desert, that a man should employ much labour in repayring the same. Himselfe saith this in his Epistles, which he wrote to Poliaenus Charinus, being magistrate, & he glorieth therein, that all his victuals for one day cost him not three pence halfe­penie, and that Metrod [...]rus diet, who had not so farre forth profited as himselfe, cost him no more. Thinkest thou that in this kinde of life there is not a saciety? Vndoubtedly there is pleasure in it, and not such pleasure which is fomie and fleeting, and oft [...]ntimes to be repaired, but stable and certaine: for neyther is water, nor broth, nor a morsell of barley bread a pleasant dyet; but it is an espe­ciall pleasure for a man to be able to take his contentment in these, and to haue established himselfe so farre in himselfe, that no iniurie of fortune can shake his resolution. The ordinarie allowance of the prisons is farre more then this, and they that are condemned to die, are not so poorely intreated by him that is their executioner. How great is the magnitude of his minde, that maketh that habi­tude voluntarie in himselfe, to admit those things with willingnesse which or­dinarily are accustomed to be enioyned for a penaltie: this is to preoccupate the weapons of fortune. Begin therefore, my Lucilius, to follow these mens customes, and take some dayes to thy selfe, wherein thou mayest retire thy selfe from thine affaires, and content thy selfe with a little. Begin to haue some con­uerse and familiarity with pouertie. [Page 194]

Be [...]olde my guest, and set proude wealth at nought,
And make thee worthy God by modest thought.

No other man is worthie God, but he that hath contemned riches, of whose possession I debarre thee not; but my desire is, that thou mightest possesse them without feare, which by one meanes thou shalt obtaine, if thou canst perswade thy selfe that thou mayest liue happily without them, and regard them no o­therwise then as fleeting benefites, thou canst well want. But now let vs begin to conclude our Epistle: first, sayest thou, Pay me that thou owest. I will send Epicurus to pay thee my debt: Immoderate wrath engendreth madnesse. How true this is thou must needes know, when thou hast had both a slaue and an enemie. This affection kindleth it selfe against al men, it ariseth as wel from loue as from hate, as well amongst serious things as playes and pastimes; neyther skilleth it from how great a cause it grow, but what kinde of minde it meeteth with: so, it is no matter how great the fire be, but where it falleth; for the greatest and soundest tymbers haue sustayned a great fire: againe, drie trees and such as are apt to be [...]ired, nourish a sparkle so long till it breake into a flame. So is it, my Lucilius, [...]urie is the end of immoderate wrath, and therfore is anger to be auoy­ded, not for moderation, but for healths sake.

EPIST. XIX.

That publique affaires are to be omitted and cast off, and priuacie to be affected: but pri­ [...]acie and not solitude, and detestation of conuersation. He counselleth to for [...]ake the Court and the pompe thereof, both which are attended with tumults and troubles. A clause of the same Masters. See with whom thou communicatest at the table.

I Am heartily glad as oftentimes as I receiue thy letters, for they fill me with much good hope: for now they promise not, but as­sure me in thy behalfe. Doe therefore in such sort, I pray and beseech thee, as thy letters doe import: for what better thing can I intreat at my friends hand, then that for which I should im­plore God in his behalfe? Withdraw thy selfe, if thou mayest [...] from these busie affaires; or if thou canst not forcibly deliuer thy selfe, we haue ouer-long beene prodigall of time, let vs begin now in our age to play the good husbands. Is this distastfull to thee? We haue liued in the stormie Ocean, let vs die in a quiet harbor. Yet would I not aduise thee to affect a singularitie and name by thy re­tirement, which neyther thou oughtest to boast of or to conceale. For neuer will I so much condemne the [...]urie of mankinde, that to the end thou mayest a­ [...]oyde the same, I would haue thee locke thy selfe vp in an hermitage, and burie the affaires of this world in euerlasting forgetfulnesse. Behaue thy selfe in such sort, that r [...]treat of thine be apparent but not eminent; and then shal they who haue libertie to liue according to their own good liking, perceiue whether they ought wholly to hide themselues or no. For thine owne part thou mayest not. The vigor of thy wit, the elegancy of thy writings, thy many great and famous alliances haue brought thee forth into the face of the world. Thou art alrea­die so farre engaged in the knowledge of men, that though [...]hou wert confined in the furthermost corner of the world, yet would thy former actions discouer [Page 195] themselues. Thou canst not be concealed, there will be alwayes some lus [...]re of thy former light, which will attend thee, whithersoeuer thou retirest thy selfe. Canst thou settle thy selfe in repose without the hate of any man, without de­sire or agon [...]e of minde? For what shalt thou leaue which thou mayest imagine to haue forsaken vnwillingly? What thy clients? But of th [...]se no one affecteth thee, but gapeth for somewhat from thee [...] Shall it be thy friends? In times past men affected friendships now hunt th [...]y af [...]er profits [...] Art thou afraid that the older sort, being abandoned by thee, should chaunge their willes? Consider in counterpoize of all this that a thing so pretious as is libertie, cannot be purcha­sed but very deerly. Finally, bethink thy selfe, whether thou hadst rather lose either those things that belong vnto thee, or thy self. Would to God thou hadst beene so happie as to waxe olde aft [...]r the manner of thine a [...]ncestors; and for­tune had not made thee so eminent as she hath done; a sudden felicitie, thy prouince and procreation, and whatsoeuer is promised by these haue transpor­ted thee very farre from the sight of a contented life. And greater things be­sides these shall sease thee hereafter, and the one shall b [...]g [...]t the other. What shall be the end? Thinkest thou thy contents and honours shall be so affluent, that nothing shall remaine for thee to desire? That time shall neuer happen. That which we say to be the order and vniting of causes which tie destinie, the same likewise say we to be of coueteousnes; the one taketh his beginning from the end of the other. Into that life art thou demised which shall neyther [...]nd thy miserie nor seruitude. Pull thy neeke therefore out from the yoake [...] it is better to cut it in pieces all at once, then to suffer it perp [...]tually to be restrained. If thou withdraw thy selfe to a priuate life, all things will be lesser, but they will fill thee the more; but now diuers things, and heaped one vpon another, satis­fie thee not. But whether haddest thou rather to hau [...] [...]curitie in want, or hunger in abundance? Felicitie is both couetous, and expos [...]d to others greedi­nesse. As long as nothing shall suffi [...]e thee, thou shalt not giue contentment to others, How sayest thou, shall I escap [...] this? By any meanes whatsoeuer. Be­thinke thy selfe, how many things thou hast rashly attempted for mon [...]y, how many things thou hast laboriously vndertaken for honor [...] somthing also is to be attempted for thy quiet sake, or in this solicitude of pro [...]iniation [...] and afterwards of ciuill offices, thou must wax [...] old in trauell, and be alwayes tossed with new wa [...]es, which thou canst not auoyde by any modesti [...] o [...] quiet of life. For what a [...]ayleth thee to be willing to settle thy quiet, if thy fortune will not? What a [...] ­so if thou permit the same to encrease? the better the successe is, the [...] [...]he feare increaseth. I will recount vnto thee in this place the saying of M [...]nas [...] who spake truth amidst the tortures of his dignitie, and [...]auours in the Court of AV [...]VSTVS: For Highnes it selfe thundereth at the highes [...]. If you enquire of me in what booke he said it: it was in that which was intituled Prometheus. [...]his would he say that feare and amaze possesseth the highest. Is there therefore a [...]nie power of that esteem that thy speech should be so disordred? The man was ingenious, and such as was to giue a great example of Romane eloquence, if fe­licitie had not enfeebled him, nay rather geld [...]d him. This [...]nd attendeth if thou restraine not thy selfe presently, and shorten thy say [...]es [...] except (which he to lately affected) thou beare for the land. I could be quit with thee for this sentence of Mecaenas, but I feare me thou wilt not recoin [...] it for good payment in this sort, but wilt cauill (if I know thee well) and ac [...]pt of my paym [...]nt in the coyne I hold currant. Howsoeuer the matter be I will borrow from E [...]CVRVS: Thou art (saith he) to take care with whom thou e [...]te [...] and drinkest before [Page 196] thy meate, then what thou eatest and drinkest: for a plentifull and fleshie feast without a friend, is the life of a Lion or a Wolfe. This shall not happen to thee, except thou retire thy selfe, & separate thee from the multitude; otherwise thou shalt haue at thy table, not thy friends, but such as thy remembrancer hath chosen a­mongst the multitude of thy saluters. But he deceiueth himselfe that searcheth a friend in the base court, and approueth him in the banquet. A man much oc­cupied and besieged by his goods, hath no one greater mischiefe, then that hee thinketh them to be his friends whom he loueth not, that beleeueth that his benefits are powerfull enough to get him friends, wheras some the more they owe a man, the more they hate him. A little debt maketh a man a debtor, a great an enemie? What therefore, doe not benefits beget friendships? They doe, if a man might make choyse of those that should receiue them, if they were well imployed, and not rashly cast away. Therfore whilst thou beginnest to be thine owne man, in the mean while vse this counsel of the wise-men, that thou think it to be more pertinent to the matter, to regard who receiueth then what.

EPIST. XX.

That Philosophie is in deedes not in words, and that therefore we ought to addresse our selues to them, and that constantly. For wisedome is the conueniency and vniforme tenor of our wils and life. Pouertie also is not to be feared, and riches if they be pre­sent not to be loued. Moreouer, a warning that on certaine dayes we act and imitate poore men.

IF thou art in health, and thinkest thy selfe worthy at some time to be made thine owne I reioyce: for it shall be my glorie, if I may drawe thee out from thence, whereas thou floatest without hope of getting out. But this I heartily begge and earnestly exhort thee too, my Lucilius, that thou shut vp Philosophie in the secret of thy heart, and that thou make an experiment of thy progresse, not by thy speech or wri­tings, but by the firmitie of thy minde, and the diminution of thy desires. Ap­proue the words by the deedes. One is the scope of those that declaime and de­mand applause of an assembly. Another of those that detaine the cares of yong and idle men with diuers and voluble disputation. Philosophie teacheth vs to doe and not to speake, and exacteth this of vs, that euery one liue according to her law, lest the life should differ from speech, that the life be in it selfe of one colour, without any discord of actions. This is both the greatest office, and to­ken of wisedome, that the actions be correspondent to the words, and that hee which followeth her be alwayes equal & like vnto himselfe. Who shal perform this? Few, yet some shall. This thing is difficult, neyther say I that a wise-man should alwayes march one pace, but one path. Obserue therefore whether thy garment and thy house doe disagree, whether thou art liberall towards thy selfe, and niggardly towards thine, whether thou suppest frugally and buildest prodigally? Take once vnto thee a certaine rule and measure of life, and leuell the same according to that square. Some men in their houses restraine them­selues, abroad are lauish and prodigall. This diuersitie is a vice, and the signe of an vnconstant minde, and not as yet brought in frame. Moreouer I will tell thee whence this inconstancie of affaires and counsailes doth proceed. No man pro­poseth vnto himselfe an end wherevnto he will tend, neyther if he haue pro­posed [Page 197] it, doth he perseuer in the same, but ouer-shooteth himselfe; and not on­ly changeth he, but return [...]th and re-intangleth himselfe in those vices, which he him [...]elfe had forsaken and condemned. That I may therefore leaue the olde definitions of wisedome, and comprehend the whole manner of humane life, I can be content with this. What is wisedome? To will one thing, and to nill the same: although thou adde not the exception, that it be iust which thou willest. One and the same thing cannot alwayes please any man, except it bee right. Men therefore know not what they will except in that very moment wherein they will. In summe, no man is positiue in his willing or nilling. The iudgement is daily varied, and turned into the contrarie, and to many men life passeth away like a May-game. Pursue then that which thou hast begun, and thou shalt happily attaine eyther to the height, or at least-wise to that thou a­lone shalt vnderstand that as yet it is not compleat. What shall become, sayest thou, of this troope of my familiars? All this troope when thou desistest to feed them will feede themselues, or that which thou canst not know by thy merites, thou shalt vnderstand by the meanes of pouertie. She will retaine thy true and certain friends, and whosoeuer shall leaue, followed not thee but another thing. And is not pouertie to be loued for this one thing, that she discloseth vnto thee who are thy vnfained friends? O when will that day come that no man will belie thine honour? Let therefore all thy thoughts tend hither, studie and wish this, remitting all other vowes vnto God, that thou mayest be content with thy selfe and such goods that accrue by thy selfe. What felicitie may be neerer vnto God? Reduce thy selfe, and content thee with the least estate, lower then which thou canst not fall: and that thou mayest the more willingly doe it, to this shall belong the tribute of this Epistle. Although thou enuie it, yet shall Epicurus euen at this present voluntarilie defray the duetie for me. Beleeue me, this thy discourse shall haue more lustre and magnificence in a lowe bedde, and vnder a ragged coate; for it shall not onely be said but approued. And for mine owne part haue I during my life time otherwise heard that which my friend De­metrius said, when as I saw him naked, couched and lying vpon lesse then straw? For then is he not a Master of truth, but a witnesse. What then, ought we to set light by the riches which are in our possession, and as it were in our bosome? Why may we not? Great is his courage, which hauing long time and much ad­mired them about him, laugheth at them, and rather heareth then feel [...]th that they are his. It is much, not to be corrupted by the fellowship of riches. Great is he that is poore in his riches, but more secure is hee that wanteth riches. I know not, sayest thou, how this man will beare his pouertie, if he fall into the same; neyther know I, saith Epicurus, if this poore man wil contemne his riches if he fall on them. Therefore in both of them the minde is to be esteemed and looked into; whether the one affected his pouertie, the other flattered not his riches. Otherwise the [...]trawe bed, and ragged coate would be but a slender argument of good will, except it were manifest, that any one suffered them not of necessitie but voluntarily. But it is the signe of a great wit, not to runne after the things as if they were the better, but to prepare himself [...] to endure them with facilitie. And truely, Lucilius, they are easier: but wh [...]n as with mature consideration thou shalt entertaine them, they will be pleasant also: for in them there is a securitie, without which nothing is pleasant. I therefore iudge that necessarie, which as I wrote vnto thee, great men haue often done, to interpose certaine dayes, wherein by imaginarie pouertie we may exercise our selues to entertaine the true; which is the rather to be done because we haue beene [Page 198] drowned in delights, and all things in our iudgements are hard and difficult: rather ought the minde to be awakened and roused from sleepe, & to be instru­cted and admonished, that nature hath proposed vs the least. No man is borne rich: whosoeuer entreth life, is commanded to bee contented with bread and milke. From these beginnings Kingdomes containe vs not.

EPIST. XXI.

That true splendor is in Philosophie, and proceedeth not from honours or titles. That she giues to those that haue her, and clea [...]e vnto her, a perpetuall name and fame. An em­bleme from EPICVRVS. To the intent thou mayest increase thy riches diminish thy desires.

THinkest thou that thou hast to doe with those thoughts whereof thou haddest writ to me? Thou hast a mightie businesse with thy selfe, and art troublesome to thy selfe. Thou knowest not what thou wouldest: thou doest better allow then follow honest things. Thou seest where felicitie is planted, but thou darest not attaine therevnto. But what it is that hindereth thee, because thou thy selfe doest little conceiue or prie into, I will tell thee. Thou thinkest these things great matters which thou art to leaue, and when as thou hast proposed to thy selfe that securitie whervnto thou art to passe the light of this life from whence thou art to part, retaineth thee as if thou wert to fall into some loathsome and darke places. Thou abusest thy selfe Lucilius, we ascend from this life to the o­ther. The difference which is betweene splendor and light, whereas this hath a certaine originall and from it selfe, that shineth by reason of another: the same difference is there twixt this life and that. This because it is reflected vp­pon by an externall light will presently yeeld a thicke shadow to whomsoeuer setteth himselfe before the same; but that other shineth by his owne light. Thy studies will make thee famous and noble. I will relate an example of Epi­curus when he wrote to Idomenaeus, and reuoked him from a pompeous life to a faithfull and stable glorie, who was a minister at that time of rigorous and regall power and had the handling of many mightie matters. If (saith he) thou art tou­ched with glorie, my Epistles shall make thee more famous then all those things which thou honourest, and for which thou art honoured. Whether, I pray you, lied he? Who had knowne Idomenaeus except Epicurus had registred and engraued him in his Letters? All those Potentates, Princes, and the King himselfe, from whom Idomenaeus had his estate and dignitie, are buried in eternall obliuion. Ciceroes E­pistles suffer not the name of Atticus to be extinguished, neyther had Agrippa his sonne in law, nor Tiberius his neeces husband, nor Drusus Caesar his nephews sonne, amongst so great names he had beene obscured, had not Cicero maintay­ned his reputation, and kept him in memorie. After vs there shall come a long and hidden tract of time, some few wits shall lift vp their heads, and being likely at length to sleepe in the same silence, shall resist obliuion, and shall keepe them­selues long time in reputation. That which Epicurus could promise his friend, that promise I thee, Lucilius. I shall haue fauour with posteritie, and can beare a­way with me the names of such as shall liue in memorie. One Virgil promised and performed to two eternall memorie: [Page 199]

You both are fortunate if ought my verses can,
No day shall you exempt from memorie of man;
Whilst haught AENEAS house shall stand, and lasting bide
Vpon the Capitols rocky and loftie side,
And Romane father shall the Romane Empire guide.

All those whom fortune hath aduanced, al they that haue bin the members and parcels of another mans power, their credite hath beene inhaunced, their houses haue beene frequented during the time that they themselues flourished, after them their memorie was quickly extinguished. The reputation of wits increa­seth daily, and not onely continueth for them, but all that is receiued, which is adherent vnto them. And to the end that Idomenaeus be not gratis inclosed in my Epistle, he shall redeeme the same at his owne charge. To him Epicurus wrote this noble sentence, wherein he exhorteth him to make Pithocles rich af­ter no vulgar or vncertaine manner: If thou wilt (saith he) make PITHOCLES rich, thou must not amplifie his possessions, but diminish his desires. This sentence is so plaine that it needeth no interpretation, and so expresse as it needeth no helpe. I admonish thee this one thing, that thou suppose not this onely to be spoken of riches, howsoeuer thou apply [...]st it, it is all one. If thou wilt make Pithocles ho­nest thou must not amplifie his honours, but diminish his desires. If thou wilt that Pithocles be in perpetuall pleasure, thou must not amplifie his pleasures but diminish his desires. If thou wilt make Pithocles olde, and cause him to liue a compleat life, thou must not amplifie his yeares, but diminish his desires. Thou hast no reason to iudge that these are onely Epicurus speeches, for they are pub­lik. That which was wont to be don in the Senate, that also think I fit to be don in Philosophie. When any one hath deliuered his minde, which partly pleaseth me, I bid him diuide his sentence, and I follow the same so diuided. The more willingly recite I these good sayings of Epicurus, to the end I may shew those who build therevpon, being conducted with a foolish presumption, and that thinke to haue a cloake for their vices, that they ought to liue honestly in what place soeuer they bide. When they shall approach these Gardens, and shall see written ouer the gate of them,

Heere well mayst thou abide my gentle guest,
Heere pleasure is esteem'd the chiefest best.

The Host of this house courteous vnto his guests, full of hospitalitie and hu­manitie, will be addressed, and shall entertain thee with a cake, and present thee with water, as much as will suffice thee, and in the end. [...]ll say vnto thee: Hast thou not beene well entertained? These Gardens, I tell thee, prouoke not but ex­tinguish hunger: neyther make th [...]y thee thrise-more great by the drinkings; but asswage them by a naturall and gratuitall remedie. In this pleasure am I waxen olde, I speake with thee of these desires which receiue no consolation, to which it is good to release som things, to the end they may cease. For in regard of the extraordinarie which a man may deferre, chastice and oppresse, I will ad­uertise thee of one thing, that this is neyther a naturall nor necessarie voluptu­ousnesse. To this thou art in no manner tyed, whatsoeuer thou bestowest on it, it is voluntarie. The bellie heareth no precepts, it demandeth and calleth on vs; yet is he not a troublesome creditor, but satisfied with little, prouided thou giue him that which thou owest, not that which thou payest.

EPIST. XXII.

We ought manfully to dislodge our selues of businesses, and how the snares are eyther to be loosed or broken; yet let opportunity and good occasion be respected, and not let slip. Furthermore he despiseth and casteth from him these false splendors. Then citeth he a sentence of EPICVRVS. That all men part out of this life children, that is igno­rant o [...] the true life.

THou vnderstandest now that thou art to acquit thy selfe of these businesses, in appearance faire, but euill: but how thou mayest ef­fect the same, thou askest my counsell. Many things cannot bee taught but in presence. A Physitian cannot choose by his Let­ters the time of repast and bathing, he must feele the pulse. It is an olde prouerb; That the Fencer taketh counsaile in the field appointed for combat. The countenance of his aduersarie makes him thinke on somwhat, the motion of his hand, and the inclination of his bodie aduiseth somewhat to him that bee­holdeth or looketh on. A man may in generall giue aduice eyther by speech, or writing of that which hath beene accustomed, or of that which is needfull to be done; and such counsell both to the absent and to posteritie, but that other when it ought to be done, and how, no man will aduise from a farre o [...]f: we must deliberate with the things themselues. It is the duetie of a good man that is not onely present but well aduised, to take the occasion when it commeth; and therefore be intentiue after her, take her by the forlocke when thou seest her, and with all the force of thy minde, and to the vttermost of thy power labour to disburden thee of all these charges, which thou hast taken on thee. Aboue all things obserue what my counsaile is; my opinion is, that eyther thou must dismisse this kinde of life, or lose thy life. But I thinke this also that thou must keepe some moderate course, to the end that what thou hast intangled lewdly, thou mayest rather loose then breake off. And when there should be no other means to discharge thy selfe, that thou mightest boldly breake the same. There is no man so faint hearted, that had rather abide alwayes hanging in the ayre, then to fall once. Meane while beware thou principally, that thou engage not thy selfe ouer-farre, content thy selfe with those affaires thou hast vndertaken, or (since thou wilt that we beleeue so) that haue surprised thee. Thou must not entang [...]e thy selfe further; otherwise thou wilt loose thy excuse, and wilt make it knowne, that they haue not surprised thee. For these excuses which are wont to be made, are false. I could not do otherwise; and what if I will not? I was forced to doe it. There is no man that is constrained to follow felicitie head-long. It is much if a man cannot repulse her, at least-wise to make head a­gainst her, and to resist [...] he swiftnesse of fortune. Art thou displeased if I come not onely to giue thee counsaile, but if I call others also to thy assistance? True­ly they are more wise th [...]n I am, it is of them that I take aduice, if I haue any thing to deliberate. I haue read an Epistle of Epicurus, that tendeth to this pur­pose, which is written to Idomenaeus, whom he intreateth that as much as in him lieth, he [...]lie and hasten before any greater force intercept, and cut off his liberty from retiring: yet addeth the same man, that nothing is to be attempted except when it may be aptly and liuely executed. But when the time that a man hath so long expected shall come, he saith that we ought to dislodge suddenly. Hee forbiddeth him sleepe that supposeth to flie; hee hopeth also an happie issue of those things that are most difficult, if we hasten not our selues before the time, and if wee be not negligent when it shall bee time to hasten. But I [Page 201] thinke thou demaundest the aduice of the Stoicks; there is no man ought to accuse them towards thee of temeritie, they are more warie then strong. Hap­pily thou expectest that these things be spoken to thee. It is a shame to faint vn­der the burthen; thou oughtest to wrastle against the charge thou hast vnderta­ken. A man that flyeth trauel, is neither valiant nor hardie; he is the man whose courage redoubleth, the more difficult his affaires grow. All this shall be said vnto thee, if perseuerance ought to bring any profit, if it be necessarie if nothing ought to be done or suffered that is vnworthie a good man; otherwise hee will not tire himselfe after a shamefull and dishonest trauaile, and would not meddle with affaires, lest he should reape paine thereby, much lesse would he doe that which thou thinkest he would doe, that finding himselfe entangled in affaires, full of ambition he would alwayes support that passion: but after that he shall know the dangers wherein he is plunged, to be full of incertaintie and doubts, he will withdraw his foote, yet not turne his backe, but by little and little will retire in safetie. Truely it is an easie thing, my Lucilius, to escape from busi­nesse, if thou contemne the profit of them: they are those that retaine and stay vs. What shall I doe then? shall I leaue so long hopes? Shall I then desist when I am to receiue the profite? Shall I not haue any man to attend me, and giue me? Shall my litter be vnattended? and my base Court without sutors? With much hearts-griefe and vnwillingnesse doe men depart from these hopes; they loue the profit that proceedeth from these miseries, yet hate they the miseries themselues. So complaine they of their ambitions as of their miseries: and if thou consider well their true affection, they hate them not, but they are angrie with them. Shake off those men which deplore that which they haue desired, and speake of the forsaking of those things which they cannot want, thou shalt see that they incessantly keepe company with that which they report incessant­ly be most distastefull and disliking to them. True it is, my Lucilius, that ser­uitude retaineth few persons, and few persons retaine seruitude: but if thou art resolued in thy minde to dismisse the same, and that in good earnest libertie best pleaseth thee; and that to this one intent thou demandest counsaile, that with­out perpetuall felicitie thou mayest haue power to doe the same. Why should not the whole company of Stoicks allow thereof? All Zenoes Chrysippi will per­swade moderate, honest, and true things. But if for this cause thou recoilest, that thou mayest looke about thee, how much thou shalt carrie with thee, and what great riches thou needest to liue in repose, thou shalt neuer finde an issue: a man loaden with a burden cannot saue himselfe by swimming. Depart from that to enter with the fauour of the goddes into a better life, prouided that this fauour be not like vnto theirs, to whom they haue giuen euils with a smiling and gratious countenance, excused by this one thing, that the goods which burn and torment, were giuen to those that wished for them, I had alreadie sealed vp my letter, but I must open it againe, that I may send it to thee with a solemne present, and bring with it some magnificall sentence; and beholde I knowe not whether one more true or more eloquent is falne in my hand. Whose is it, say­est thou? Epicurus: for as yet do I fill my packet with other mens purposes. No man departeth otherwise out of this life, but as if he did but newly enter. Surprise what man thou wilt, young, of middle age or olde; thou shalt finde them alike afraid of death, and all of them as ignorant of life. No man hath finished any thing: for we alwayes refer our affaires to the time to come. There is nothing in this sentence that pleaseth me so much, then when it reproacheth olde men, that as yet they are infants. No man, saith he, doth otherwise depart out of this life, [Page 202] then as he was borne. It is false, we die worse then we were borne: it is our er­rour and not natures; she must complaine of vs, and say, what meaneth this, I haue bred you without desires, without feares, without superstition, without persidiousnesse, and other plagues, depart out of life such as you entred? That man is seasoned in wisedome, who dieth as securely as he is borne. But now feare we, when danger approacheth our heart, our colour faileth vs, and fruit­lesse teares fall from our eyes. What is more absurd then to be fearefull euen in the very entrance of securitie? But the cause hereof is this; because we are voyde of all goodnesse, whereas in the end of our life we labour with the desire of them: for no part thereof remaineth with vs, it is lost, it is vanished, no man careth how well he liueth, but how long, whereas all men might haue the hap to liue well, as no men haue to liue long.

EPIST. XXIII.

He warneth to seeke out true ioy: what is that? That which is seuere and bred of true goodnesse. [...]he rest are [...]allacious and [...]ugitiue, this solid and firme, because it is seated in a resolute minde, which is the best part of vs: in a word, it is seated in conscience. At list EPICVRVS his saying. It is a loathsome and troublesome thing alwayes to begin to liue, and such as are inconstant are condemned.

THou supposest that I will write vnto thee how kindly the winter hath dealt with vs, which was both remisse and short; how vn­kindly the spring was, and preposterous the colde, and such other toyes as delight those that loue words. But I will write somthing which may profit both thee and me. And what else shall that be but to exhort thee to a good mind? Askest thou me what the foundation ther­of is? Doe not ioy in vaine things. Said I that this is the foundation, it is the perfection and fulnesse thereof. Hee obtaineth the fulnesse of this good, who knoweth wh [...]rein his pleasure lyeth, and hath not builded his felicitie on ano­ther mans power: he is altogether in care, and ill assured, who is tickled with a­ny hope, although hee holdeth it in his hand, although hee easily obtaine the same, although the things he hoped for haue neuer deceiued him. Doe this a­boue all things, my Lucilius, learne to reioyce. Thou thinkest now that I take many of thy pleasures from thee, who driue from thee those that are gotten by casualtie, who suppose that these hopes and sweetest delights are to be auoy­ded, nay, rather it is quite contrarie. I will not that at any time thou be without ioy. I will that it be bred vnto thee in thine owne house [...] and it is bred, if so be that it be within thy selfe. All other delights replenish not the soule, but cleare the countenance: they are toyes except thou iudgest him to be merrie that laugheth. The minde ought to be resolute and confident, and lifted vp a­boue all things. Trust me, true ioy is a seuere thing. Thinkest thou that a man with a smooth and smiling countenance, and, as these wanton fellowes speake, with a merrie eye, contemneth death, openeth his house to pouertie, bridleth his delights, and meditateth on patience? He that thinketh on all these things is in great gladnesse, but little pleasing: in possession of this gladnesse I would haue thee be, it will neuer faile thee, when as thou once findest out from whence it proceedeth. The best of the slightest mettals is in the vpper part, they are the most rich which haue their vaine hidden in their centre, and wil make him most rich who shall search their mine with diligence. These toyes and trifles where­with [Page 203] the common sort are delighted, haue a pleasure tender and facile to melt, and all that ioy which commeth from without vs, is without foundation. This whereof I speake, wherevnto I endeuour to draw thee, is solid and farre more apparent inwardly. Endeuour, I beseech thee, my welbeloued Lucilius, to pra­ctise that only which may make thee happie: despise and spurne at those things that outwardly shine, and which are promised thee from another: fixe thie eye vpon the true good, and take thou pleasure in that which is thine owne. But what meaneth this? of thy selfe, and the better part of thy selfe: thinke also of thy bodie (although nothing may be done without it) to be a thing rather ne­cessarie then great. It sugge [...]eth vaine, short and remorsfull pleasures, and such as, if they be not well tempered with great moderation, will turne into a contra­rie effect. I say this, that pleasure is still falling headlong, and declining vnto griefe, except it keep a mediocritie; and hard it is to keep a mean in that which thou [...]irmely beleeuest to be good. The desire of true good is assured. Askest thou me what this true good is, and whence it proceedeth? I wil tell thee; from a good conscience, from honest deliberations, from vertuous and iustifiable acti­ons, from contempt of such things as are casuall, from a peaceable, and continu­all institution of life, which hath alwayes traced the same course. For they who leapt from some purposes to other, or else iumpe not, but by a certaine chance are transported; how can they haue any thing certaine or permanent, being themselues inconstant and in suspence? Few there are that dispose both them­selues and their estates by counsaile. The rest after the manner of those sedges that floate on great riuers, goe not, but are carried; whereof some are detayned, and are softly conuayed by a slower streame, othersom carried away by a more vehement, others a soft tyde hath slowly carried to the shoare, others a strong current hath cast into the Sea. We must therefore be resolued what we will, and in it must we perseuer. Here is the place to pay my debt: for I can pay thee in the words of thine owne Epicurus and discharge this Epistle: It is a tedious thing alwayes to begin life: or if in this manner the sense may be the better expressed; Badly liue they who alwayes begin to liue. Why sayest thou? for this word requireth an explanation. Because their life is alwayes imperfect [...] but it cannot be that hee should be prepared for death, that doth but lately beginne to liue. We must so doe, as if we had liued long enough. No man hath thought it that begin­neth to liue, when he onely beginneth in good earnest: neuerthelesse thinke thou not that these are few in number, for almost all are such. Some doe then begin to liue, when they ought to cease: if thou thinke this and wonder, I will adde that which shall drawe thee more into admiration; some haue ceased to liue before they haue begun.

EPIST. XXIIII.

An Epistle worthie to be ranked amongst the best. He exhorteth not to feare euils to come, although they threaten. But rather to propose them to happen, and so to forme a mans selfe by examining or extenuating them. For what are all these feares? The last of them is death, and contemne that by reason. Great men haue done it. Plebe­ans and Slaues haue done it. Why shouldest thou not aspire? Take the visard from things: that which thou fearest is paine; which a tender woman hath suffered in her child-bed. Finally, thou art borne to this, to bee tossed, to grieue, to die: acknow­ledge thy destinie: yet with EPICVRVS precept, neither wish for death, neither feare it.

THou writest vnto me that thou art disquieted in mind about the euent of thy iudgement, which the furie of thine enemie doth denounce against thee, and thou thinkest that I will perswade thee; to propose vnto thy selfe in the meane time good successe, and feed thy selfe with vaine hopes. For what needeth it vs to call on and anticipate our calamities, which will befall vs too soone, and lose the present good for feare of the euill to come? Vndoubtedly it is a great folly to make a mans selfe miserable for the present, because that sometimes hereafter he must be: but I will leade thee to securitie by another way, if thou wilt dis­burthen thy selfe of all care; make account, that whatsoeuer thou fearest shall befall thee, is alreadie happened, and what euill soeuer it be, measure it by thy selfe, and taxe thy feare. Thereby shalt thou iudge vndoubtedly, either that thine euill is not great, or that it is not long; neither mayest thou spend much time in gathering examples, to conforme thee, euery age is stored with them. In whatsoeuer part of affaires, either ciuill or externall, thou fixest thy memo­rie, thou shalt meet with wits, either proficient in wisdome, or of great toward­nesse. Can there then, if so be thou be condemned, a worse fortune befall thee, then to be banished, to be led to prison? Is there any thing more to be feared by any man, then that he shall be burned, then that he shall die? Thinke verie neerely on euery one of these things, and represent vnto thy selfe all those that haue despised them, who are not to be sought for, but chosen out. Rutillius so suffered his condemnation, as if no other thing more troubled him, then for that he was wrongfully iudged. Metellus tooke his exile couragiously, and Rutillius also willingly; the one vouchsafeing his returne for the good of the Common-weale; the other refusing Sylla his returne, to whom in those dayes nothing was denied. Socrates disputed in the prison, and whereas there were some that promised him flight, he refused to make escape; yea and he remained to the in­tent to take from men the feare of two the most dreadfullest things, that is to say, Imprisonment and Death. Mutius thrust his hand into the flame. A bit­ter thing it is to be burned, but how farre more intollerable, if thou suffer it by thine owne act? Thou seest an vnlearned man, neuer strengthened by my Pre­cepts against death or griefe, onely furnished with militarie fortitude, exacting punishment from himselfe, of his frustrated attempt: he stood looking on his right hand dropping away in his enemies fire, neither remoued he his scorched hand burned to the bones, before the fire was withdrawne from him by the e­nemie himselfe. Something might he haue performed in that campe more hap­pily, but nothing more couragiously. See how more eager Vertue is to enter­taine perill, then crueltie to command it. More easily did Porsenna pardon Mu­tius, [Page 205] for that he would haue killed him, then Mutius did himselfe, because he had not murthered him. These fables, thou wilt say are ouerworne, and sung amiddest the Schooles. Now wilt thou (now the cause is handled of contempt of death) alledge me Cato. And why should I not nominate and represent him reading that last night Platoes boooke with his sword behind his pillow? These two instruments in extremities had he prouided, the one to haue will to die, the other to haue power. Hauing then giuen order to his affaires, as farre as a broken and desperate estate permitted him; he thought that onely concerned him to act: that no man might either haue power to kill, or opportunitie to saue Cato. And hauing his sword drawne, which vntill that time he had kept pure and neate from all murther. Thou hast not O Fortune, said hee, as yet done any thing against me, in opposing thy selfe against all my designes and en­terprises. I haue not as yet fought for mine owne, but my countries libertie, nei­ther haue I endeuoured so much to liue free, as to liue amongst free men. Now since the affaires of humane kind are desperate, Cato will well finde a meanes to set himselfe at libertie. After this he grieuously wounded himselfe in the bo­die, which being dressed and bound vp by his Physitians. Cato that had alrea­die lost much blood, and much strength, but nothing lost of the greatnesse and goodnesse of his minde: now not only angrie with Caesar, but incensed against himselfe; he forced his naked hands into his mortall wound, and rendred or rather thrust out that generous soule of his, that contemned all power. I heape not vp together these examples for this present, to the intent to exercise my wit, but rather to giue thee courage against a thing that seemeth so dreadfull and terrible. And more easily shall I exhort thee in my opinion, if I shew, that not only great and generous persons haue contemned this moment of yeelding vp the ghost, but that some men of little value in all other things, haue in this equalled the vertue of the most generous, as that Scipio the father in law to Cncius Pompeius, who being forced by a contrarie winde to be transported into Africa, and perceiuing his ship to be in the possession of his enemies, stabbed himselfe, answering those, who demanded where the emperour was, that the Emperour was well. This vow of his made him equall with his ancestors, and suffered not that the glorie which seemeth to be fatall to the Scipions in Africa, should be interrupted. It was much to conquer Carthage, but more to conquer death. The Emperour, saith he, is well: and in what other sort should an Em­perour die, namely, such a one that commanded Cato? I will not referre thee to former Histories, nor gather together from all ages the many contemners and despisers of death. Looke onely into these very times of ours, whose neg­ligence and daintinesse we complaine of, thou shalt meet with men of all estates, all fortunes, all ages, which haue cut off the course of their misfortunes by their deaths. Beleeue me Lucillius, so little ought death to be feared, that nothing is to be preferred before the benefit thereof. Heare therefore securely and confi­dently the threats of thine enemie, and although thy conscience make thee confident, yet because that many things haue credit, beside the cause, hope for that which is iust, and prepare thy selfe against iniustice. But about all things, remember thou to esteeme things simply as they be, and despoile them of the tumult and bruit that is accustomably giuen them, and thou shalt find in them, that there is nothing terrible in them, but the only feare. That which thou seest befall yong children, befalleth vs also that are greater boyes; they are af­fraid of those whom they loue, and with whom they frequent and disport eue­rie day, if they see them masked and disguised. Not from men onely ought we [Page 206] to take the maske, but from things themselues, and yeeld them their true and naturall appearance. Why shewest thou me swords and fire, and a troope of grinning hang-men about thee? Take away this pompe, vnder which thou li­est hidden, and wherewith thou terrifiest fooles: thou art Death, which of late my slaue or my hand-maiden hath contemned. Againe, why shewest thou me these whippes and torments, vnder so mightie a preparation? Why seuerall engines for seuerall ioynts, fitted to torture men, and a thousand other instru­ments to plucke a man in pieces? Lay aside these things which astonish vs, com­mand the groanes and exclamations, and the irksomenesse of the cries extorted in the middest of the torture. Vndoubtedly it is but the paine, which this gou­tie man contemneth, which that man sick with the paine of the stomacke, in his very daintinesse endureth, which the tender woman suffereth in her childing. Light it is, if I can endure it, short it is, if I can suffer it. Tosse these things in thy minde, which thou hast oftentimes heard, which thou hast often said. Ap­proue it by effect, if thou hast truely said it, or truely heard it. For it is a villai­nous reproach, which is wont to be obiected against vs, if we handle the words of Philosophie, but not the workes. What thinkest thou? Supposest thou that this is the first time that death, banishment, and griefe houered ouer thee? Thou art borne to those. Let vs thinke that any thing may bee don [...], as if it were hereafter to be done. That which I aduise thee to do, I surely know thou hast done. Now do I admonish thee, that thou drowne not thy mind in this sol­licitude, for it will be dulled and haue lesse force, when thou hast reason to raise and rouse it. Withdraw the same from a priuate cause to a publike; say that thou hast a mortall and fraile bodie, which forraine iniurie and tyranny may not onely hurt, but the very pleasures thems [...]lues may b [...] transformed into tor­ments. The d [...]licacie of meates causeth the cruditie of the stomake; drunken­nesse, trembling and astonishment of the sinewes; the pleasures of the flesh and lusts, a generall deprauation of hands and feet, and all the ioynts. If I be­come poore, I haue many fellowes; if I be banished, I shall perswade my selfe, that the place wherein I am confined, is the place of my birth; if I be tied and manackled, what then, now I am free? That nature, as soone as we are borne, imprisoneth vs in this lumpish masse of the bodie, as in a strong prison. If I must die, I will comfort my selfe in this, that I shall cease to be any more sicke; I shall cease to be bound; I shall cease to haue power to die. I am not so fond as in this place to persecute Epicurus song, or to say that the feare of hell is vaine, that Ixion is not tost on the wheele, nor Sysiphus tied to roule and returne his stone on his shoulder; nor that any mans bowels could be renewed and deuoured daily. There is no man so childish as to feare Cerberus, and darknesse, and the shadowes of ghosts walking by night. Death either consumeth vs, or deliue­reth vs. A better condition exempted from all charge, attendeth those who are deliuered by death. To those that are consumed, there remaineth nothing more, since both the good and the euill are equally taken from them. Permit m [...] in this place to put thee in memorie of a verse thou hast made, and thinke that thou hast not written it to others, but to thy selfe. It is a shamefull and vn­seemely thing to speake one thing and thinke another, but how odious to write one thing and to thinke another? I remember that thou deb [...]ting sometime on this place, diddest say, that we fall not suddenly into death, but by little and little walke vnto death. We die daily, and some part of our life is daily scantled: and then also whe [...] we encrease, our life doth decrease. We haue lost our infan­cie, and then our youth, then our mans estate; briefely, all that time which is [Page 207] passed vntill this present day is death for vs. And this very day w [...] liue, w [...] di­uide with death. Euen as in an hou [...]e-glasse, the last part of the land that falleth is no [...] the onely part that discouereth the houre, but all that also which is fal [...]e before; so the last houre, in which we cease to be, is not the onely that causeth death, but it is that consummateth it. At that time we attaine thither, but we come thereto long before. These things when thou haddest described accor­ding to thy accustomed stile, thou wert alwayes great, but neuer more wittie, then when thou fittedst thy words to truth, and saydest,

Death hath degrees, that is not first that fast
Attempts to rauish vs, but that is last.

I had rather thou shouldest reade thy selfe, then my Epistle: it will appear [...] vnto thee, that this death which we feare, is the last, but not the o [...]ely which we suffer. I perceiue thy bent [...] Thou expectest to see what thing I should insert in­to this my Epistle, what bould speech of any man, what pro [...]itable precept. Of this very matter which we haue in hand [...] I will affoord thee somewhat: Epicurus is displeased as much with those that desire death, as those that feare it, & saith thus; It is a ridiculous thing, that the hatred of life maketh vs runne vnto death, when by [...]he course of our life we haue [...]ccasioned no lesse, but that needs we must haue recourse vnto death. Likewise in another place he saith: What is more ridiculous th [...]n to wish for death, when thorow the feare of death, a man hath made his life no lesse then a tor­ment? Thou mayest also adde this, which is of the same stuffe: That the follie or rather madnesse of men is so great, that there are diuers who are constrained to die for feare of death. Which of these sentences thou shalt keepe in memory, it will confirme thee in the sufferance eyther of life or death: for we haue need both to be admonished and confirmed in both of th [...]s [...], to the end we neyther too much loue, nor too much loath our life; and at that very time when reason counsaileth vs to finish the same, we ought not to doe it rashly, neyther in fet­ching our race ought we to runne vpon it. A couragious and wise man, ought to leaue his life but not to slie from it: but aboue all things auoyde that affecti­on wherwith many men are possessed, that is a desire to die: for euen as in all o­ther things (my Lucilius) so also in death, there is a disordinate and vnbridled in [...]lination of the minde [...] that oftentimes surpriseth men of high and generous spirits, and oftentimes fearefull and faint-hearted men; the one despise life, the other loath the same. Some other there are that are weary of liuing, and glut­ted with doing one thing alwayes, and hate not so much their life as th [...]y are wearie of it. And therevnto Philosophie it selfe leadeth vs, whilst we say, How long the same? That is, I shall rise, I shall sleepe, I shall be full, I shall be hungry, I shall be a cold, I shall be hot [...]; there is no [...]nd of any thing, but all things are shut in a circle, they flie and follow. The day expelleth the night, the night se­condeth the d [...]y; Summer endeth in Autumne, Winter succeedeth it, and the Spring, Winter: all things passe that they may returne againe: I see nothing new, I doe nothing new. In the end we grow in loathing of these things. There are many that acount it not a bitter thing to liue, but superfluous.

EPIST. XXV.

He prescribeth of two friends a young and an olde in different sort: how they are to be dealt withall, with the one more roughly, with the other more remisly, lest he despaire. He exhorteth LVCILIVS himselfe to mediocritie or pouertie: at length by EPI­CVRVS words, to take to himselfe a Tutor. Do all things as if a man looked on thee.

AS concerning our two friends, we must proceede after a different manner: for the vices of the one are to be amended, of the other to be extinguished. I will vse an intire libertie: I loue not him ex­cept I shall offend him. What then wilt thou say? Thinkest thou to containe vnder thy discipline a pupill of fortie yeare olde? Be­hold his age alreadie hard and vntractable: he cannot be reformed, things ply­able may be wrought vpon. I know not whether I shall preuaile or no; I had rather the successe then my indeuour should faile me. Despaire not but that a man may heale those that haue beene afflicted with inueterate sickenesses; if thou resist their intemperance, and if thou compell them to doe and endure many things against their will. Neyther of the other can I ha [...]e any great hope, except this, that as yet he blusheth to offend. This shamefastnesse is to be nou­rished, which as long as it continueth in the mind, there will be some place for good hope. With this old Souldier I think we must deale more sparingly, lest he fall into despe [...]ation of himself. Neither was there any more fit time to set vpon him then this, whilst he pawseth and pretendeth a shew of reformation. This int [...]rmission deceiued others: for my selfe it abaseth me not; I expect the return of his vic [...]s with great vsurie, which for the present I know are at repose, but not dispossessed. I will bestow some time vpon this matter, and I will make try­all whether any thing may be done or no. Approue thy selfe a man vnto vs, as thou art accustomed, and trusse vp the baggage. Nothing of that which wee haue is necessarie. Let vs reture to the lawe of nature; riches are at hand, eyther that we want is gratuitall or vile. Nature desires bread & water, no man is poor to these. Vpon those things wherein a man hath confined his desire, he may ar­gue with Iupiter himselfe of his felicitie, as Epicurus saith, some speech, of whom I will inclose in this Epistle: So doe all things (saith he) as if another man looked on. Vndoubt [...]dly it is very profitable to haue a guard ouer a mans selfe, and to haue one whom thou mayest respect, whom thou iudgest to haue an insight into thy thoughts. But it is farre better to liue as if one were a slaue to some one good man, who should be alwayes at his heeles: I likewise holde my selfe content [...] prouided alwayes that that which thou doest, thou doest it as if a man had an eye vpon thee. Solitude induceth vs to all euill. When thou hast pro [...]ited so much that thou art ashamed of thy selfe, thou mayest let goe thy Tutor; in the meane time keepe thy selfe vnder the authoritie of some one: eyther let him be Cato, or Scipio, or Laelius, or such as by whose interuiew men of least hope would suppresse their vices also, whilst thou makest thy selfe him before whom thou darest not offend. When thou hast done this, [...]nd that thou hast thy selfe in good esteeme, I will begin to permit thee that which Epicurus himselfe perswa­deth. At that time especially retire thy selfe into thy selfe, when thou art com­pelled to be in companie, it behooueth thee to differ from many men [...] but in the meane while it is no securitie for thee to depart from thy selfe. Consider the one after the other: there is no man that had not rather be with any man what­s [...]uer, th [...]n with himselfe: then especially retire thy selfe into selfe, when as [Page 209] thou art compelled to be in companie, if thou beest a good, quiet, and temperate man; otherwise forsake thy selfe, and seeke out companie: for in this case thou approchest more neere to a man of euill life.

EPIST. XXVI.

That he is olde and yet flourishing in minde. He speaketh stoutly of death, which onely (saith he) sheweth if any thing be done. The rest are words. Force and courage shall appeare when thou art dying. A clause from EPICVRVS. Learne to meditate on death.

I Tolde thee not long since that I am in view of olde age, but now I feare me I haue left olde age behinde me: vndoubtedly my yeares and bodie at this time haue neede of another word; for olde is the name of an age wearied and feeble, and not of that which is altogether wasted and worne out. Number me amongst the most decrepit; and that haue, as the prouerbe runneth, One foote already in the graue. Neuerthelesse I accompanie thee in thy ioy: in this I feele not the iniurie of my yeares in my mind, although I am sensible of them in my bo­die, only vices and the ministeries of them are quenched by old-age. The mind is frolicke and reioyceth, because it hath not much to doe with the bodie: hee hath discharged himselfe of the greatest part of his burthen, hee exsulteth and quarrelleth with me for olde age: This, saith he, is his slower. Let vs beleeue him, and suffer him to enioy his good. I take pleasure to re-knowledge and di­s [...]erne in my selfe, what part of this tranquillitie and modestie of maners which I haue, I owe vnto Philosophie, and what part vnto mine age, and diligently to discusse what things I cannot do, and what things I would not do, and whether I can any thing that I will not: for if I cannot any thing, I am glad I cannot: for what cause of complaint is there, or what discommoditie, if that which n [...]edes must not be, hath ceased to be? It is a great discommoditie, sayest thou, to bee diminished and to perish: and to speake more properly, to melt away. For we are not suddenly forced and cast downe, we are weakened, and euery day depri­ueth vs of some part of our forces. And what end is better, then to steale softly on a mans end by the dissolution of nature? not that there is any euill in this, to be striken and suddenly depriued of life, but this way is sweet and gentle, to be by little and little dispossessed and robbed of a mans selfe. For mine owne part as if I were on the point of tryall, and the day were come which should pro­nounce the sentence of all my years, I obserue, and after this manner speake vn­to my selfe. All that which we haue eyther spoken or done, vntill this houre, is nought else but a simple and light promise of the soule, couered with much de­ceit: death shall be the only faithfull testimonie, whether I haue profited or not. Thus prepare I my selfe couragiously for that day, wherein I will pro­nounce of my selfe and iudge, all crafts & subtilties laide aside, whether I speake or thinke constantly, whether the contumacious wordes, whatsoeuer which I vrged and darted out against fortune, were dissembled or fained. Remoue the estimation of men, it is alwayes doubtfull and diuided on both parts. Remoue th [...] studies, thou hast handled all thy life time, death must pronounce of thee. I say, this, that the disputes and learned conferences, and the wordes gatherd from the precepts of wise-men, neyther the well-composed discourse doth [...] [Page] [...] [Page] [Page 210] make shew, and approue the true value of a mans minde: for the fearfullest and forward, and bolde in words. It then will appeare what thou hast done when thou departest thy life. I accept this condition: I feare not the iudgement. Thus speake I with my selfe, but suppose likewise that I speake this to thee. Thou art younger: what skilleth it? our yeares are not numbred, it is vncer­taine in what place death expecteth thee, therfore expect thou him in all places. I would now haue made an end, and my hand was prefixing the period: but all solemnities must be obserued, and I must giue this Epistle his safe conduct. Think that I tell thee not whence I mean to borrow; for thou knowest whose coffer I vse. Tarrie a little and thou shalt be satisfied out of mine owne stocke; in the meane time Epicurus shall lend me somewhat, who saith; Meditate whe­ther it be more commodious that death come vnto vs, or we vnto her. The end hereof is manifest: it is an excellent thing to learne to die. Happily thou thin­kest it to be a fruitlesse thing to learne that which thou must vse but once. This is that for which we ought to meditate; wee must alwayes learne which whe­ther we know, we cannot make proofe of. Meditate on death, who saith thus, commandeth to meditate on libertie: he that hath learned to die, hath forgot­ten to serue, it is aboue all power, vndoubtedly beyond all. What careth he for prisons, holds, or restraints? He hath alwayes free passage. There is but one chaine that holdeth vs bound, that is the loue of life, which as it is not to be re­iected, so is it to be diminished, to the end that if occasion so fall out, nothing may detaine or hinder vs, but that we may be ready to do that presently, which at some other time hereafter we must needs doe.

EPIST. XXVII.

He warneth and excuseth, but what? Is he alreadie good, alreadie perfect? I am not, saith he, but amongst those that are rich. I debate with thee of the common end, and the remedy of the same. Pleasures hurt or falsly helpe. Vertue alone bringeth forth a solid ioy. But assume thou and possesse thou her, by another thou mayest not. A short and merrie historie of CALVISIVS. EPICVRVS saying: Riches are a naturall pouertie.

DOest thou admonish me, sayest thou, for already thou hast admo­nished, already corrected thy selfe? And therfore employest thou thy selfe to reforme others. And I am not so impudent to goe a­bout to cure others, being sicke my selfe; but lying, as it were, in the same Hospitall with thee, and of the same sickenesse, I conferre with thee vpon our common infirmitie, and communicate the remedies. Lend me therefore thine eare, as if I spake within my selfe. I giue thee entrance into my countrey-house, and hauing entertained thee, I expostulate with my selfe: I crie vnto my selfe: number thy yeares, and thou wilt blush for shame, that thou willest the same which thou wouldest being a childe, and professest the like; doe thy selfe this good at the last, that thy vices may die in thee before the day of thy death befall thee. Forsake these loathsome pleasures, which thou shalt full dearely satisfie for, not onely those that are to come, but those also which are past doe hurt thee. Euen as the remorse of sinnes (although vnespied when they were commited) remaineth after them, so the repentance of loath­some pleasures liueth after them: they are not solid, they are not faithfull. Al­though [Page 211] they hurt not, they take their flight. Rather looke after some good that remaineth firme: and no one there is, except that which the mind of it selfe fin­deth out for himselfe. Vertue onely giueth perpetuall and assured ioy, although there be some obstacle. Yet happeneth it after the manner of clouds, which al­waies fall downwards, and neuer surmount the day. When shall it be our good hap to attaine vnto this ioy? There remaineth much labor for him that maketh ha [...], what for him that giueth ouer and ceaseth? In which worke it concerneth thee to bestow both thy vigilancie and labour, if thou wilt see it effected. This thing admitteth no procuration. If thou wilt be assisted, thou shalt haue need of another forme of letters. Caluisius Sabinus in our time was a rich man, and had both the patrimonie and wit of a libertine and freed man. Neuer saw I man more vndecently happie then he was. This man had so bad a memorie, that now he forgot the name of Vlisses, now of Achilles, and sometimes of Priam, whom he knew as well, as we at this present remember, our Masters. No old fel­low, keeping the rowles of the people and seruants, not to report their proper names, but to giue them surnames, that more impertinently saluteth the tribes of the people, then he saluted the Troians and Grecians, yet would he be esteemed learned. He therefore found out these short meanes, he bought him slaues with great summes of money, one that held Homer before him, another that held Hesiodus, and to the nine Liriques, besides he assigned a seuerall person. That he bought them so hugely deare, thou needest not wonder, he found them not so, but put them forth to be trained. As soone as he had gotten him this family, he began to importunate those, whom he inuited, to eate with him. At his foote he had his slaues, of whom, when he demanded a verse, to recite the same, for the most part he forgot himselfe in the middest of a word. Satellius Quadratus a smell-feast, and sharker of foolish rich men, and which followeth, a iester, and that which is adiunct to both these, a scoffer, perswaded him to get him Gram­marians, who should recollect that he let slip, and new informe him. And when Sabinus had told him, that euery one of his slaues had cost him one hundred thousand Sestercies. Thou mightest (said he) haue bought so many cabinets for thy Acates, for lesse price, and better cheape. Yet was hee of that opinion, that he thought he knew all that, that any may in his house knew. The same Satellius on a time began to perswade him to wrastle, being both a sicke, pale and leane man. After that Sabinus had answered him. Alas, how can I doe it, who haue scarcely a handfull of life? Say not so, I pray you, said the other, seest thou not how many robust and well-set slaues thou hast? A good mind may not be bor [...]owed or bought, and thinke that if it were to bee sould, it should scarcely finde a chapman; but the euill and vnlettered mind is daily bought. But now receiue thou that which I owe thee, and farewell. Pouertie disposed according to the law of Nature, is a great riches. This doth Epicurus inculcate oftentimes in different manners. But it is neuer said to much, that is neuer learned enough. To some we must shew, to other some forcibly apply remedies.

EPIST. XXVIII.

The change of place changeth not the minde, `thou oughtest to change thy selfe. Take from thee thy inward pensiuenesse, euery place will be good and pleasant; yet will I, if I can, chuse the quietest and least subiect to troubles or vices. A clause, know thine owne sinnes, now art thou safe.

THou supposest that this hath only befallen thee, and admirest it as a noueltie, that in so long a voyage, and many diuersitie of places: thou hast not shaken off the sadnesse and heauinesse of spirit, it is thy minde thou must change, and not the aire. Although thou hast ouer-sailed the vast seas, although, as Virgil saith, Lands and Cities retire from thee, yet will thy vices follow thee, and tract thee whither­soeuer thou trauellest. The same answere made Socrates to a certaine man, that made the same complaint: Why wonderest thou that thy voyages profit thee nothing, since thou thy selfe doest nothing but rowle thy selfe vp and downe in thy selfe? The same cause stayeth thee, that expelleth thee. What can the noueltie of Lands profit thee, whereto serueth the knowledge of Cities and places: it is a fruit­lesse and friuolous labour. Wilt thou heare why these voyages bring thee no good? Thou fliest with thy selfe. Thou must discharge thy selfe of the burthen of the minde, for before that there is no place will please thee: Imagine thy face that it is as the Poet Virgil induceth and describeth Sibils, alreadie wholly troubled, touched, and full of spirit, other then his owne:

The Prophet stormes and cries, and doth aspire
To thrust that god-head out, that did inspire.

Thou goest heere and there to shake off the burthen that ouer-presseth thee, which puzleth thee the more by the length of thy iourney. As in a ship, the la­dings that are lesse moueable, are those that are lesse troublesome, & those that are vnequally trussed, doe soonest drowne that side on which they settle. All whatsoeuer thou doest, thou doest against thy selfe, and by thy motion thou hurtest thy selfe [...] for thou doest shake a sicke man. But when thou hast purged thee of this euill, euery change of place cannot but giue thee pleasure. Thou mayest bee driuen into the most remotest countries, and bee confined in a little corner of Barbarie, yet shall that state be hospitable vnto thee, whatsoeuer it be. It importeth more to know what thou art comming, then where thou arriuest. And therefore ought we not to fixe our minde on any place. In this opinion you must liue. I am not borne for one corner. The whole world is my coun­trie. And if thou knewest it well, thou wouldest not thinke it strange, that in no sort thou art comforted with the varietie of countries wherein thou hast bin, since that the countrie wherein thou last liuedst was loathsome to thee. For the first thou enteredst had beene agreeable vnto thee if thou haddest made ac­count that euery countrie had beene throwne downe. Thou trauellest not but runnest the countrie: thou trottest and remouest from place to place, although that very thing thou seekest for (that is to say, to liue well) is found in euery place. Can there bee any thing more turbulent then the Pallace; yet if need be, a man may liue peaceably euen there. And yet if it were lawfull for mee to make mine owne choice, I would retire my selfe farre enough from the fronti­spice [Page 213] and view of the Court. For euen as melancholy abodes may hazard the firmest constitution, so are things which are lesse healthfull to a good vnder­standing, which is not wholely accomplished, but in the way of recouerie. I dif­fer from their opinions that keepe the mid streame, approuing a tumultuous life, and that couragiously fight daily against all sorts of extreames and tribula­tions. A wise man will endure, but not chuse these, and had rather be in peace, then in fight. For it profitteth not a man very much to reiect his vices, if hee must contest with others. Thirtie tyrants, sayest thou, enuironed Socrates, and yet could not make him falter in his resolutions. What skilleth it how many Lords there be? It is but one seruitude. He that hath contemned this seruitude, is free before whatsoeuer troope of Commanders. It is time to giue ouer, proui­ded that I first pay my tollage. The knowledge of a mans fault is the beginning of his health. Epicurus in my opinion hath spoken this very worthily. For hee that knoweth not that he hath offended, will not be corrected. Thou must finde out thine owne errour, before thou amendest thy selfe. Some glorie in their vices; thinkest thou that they dreame of their remedies, that make no dif­ference betweene villanies and vertues? Therefore as much as in thee lieth re­proue thy selfe, enquire and search into thy selfe, play the part of an accuser at the first, then of a Iudge, and lastly of a suppliant; once in thy life offend thy selfe.

EPIST. XXIX.

That MARCLLINVS is hard to be corrected: For he scorneth and mocketh, yet will I not giue him ouer, and happily in this sort I will ouercome him. EPICVRVS Sen­tence, studie not to please the people, that is to say many.

THou enquirest some newes of our friend Marcellinus, and wouldest know what he doth. He commeth very seldome vnto vs, for no other cause, then for that hee feareth to heare the truth. From which perill he is now free, for we are to speake to none, but such as will giue eare vnto vs. Therefore it is wont to bee doubted, whether Diogenes, or any other Cynicks, who haue vsed a promiscuous and indis­creet libertie, to exhort all such as they meet withall, whether they ought to doe so or no. For to what intent should a man chide the deafe, or controule such as are mute either by nature or sicknesse? Why, sayest thou, should I spare my words, they cost me nothing? I know not whether I shall profit him whom I admonish. This I know, that I shall profit some one, if I admonish many. The hand must be scattered. It cannot be, but he shall effect once, that attempteth often. But I thinke not, my Lucilius, that this is to be done to a great man. The authoritie of the instructer is diminished, and hath almost no power in regard of those that might bee corrected by a meaner power. It is not alwayes needfull that a good Archer hit the wh [...]te, sometimes hee may misse. It is not an Art that casually commeth to the effect. Wisedome is an Art that must ayme at a certaine end. Let her therefore seeke out those that may bee profited by her, and retire her selfe from those of whom [...]he despaireth, prouided alwayes that shee abandon them not too soone, but forcibly and desperately attempt all remedies, when as there is lesse hope. I haue not yet lost all my hope of our friend Marcellinus, as yet he may be saued, prouided he be suddenly assisted. It [Page 214] is to be feared lest he should draw him, that should set hands to help him. The power of witte is mightie in him, but alreadie depraued, and tending to euill. Notwithstanding I will vndergoe this perill, and dare to shew him his infirmi­ties. I know well that he will follow his old custom, he will summon & marshall out all those iests, which can prouoke laughter in the eye of lamentation, and will iest at himselfe first, then at vs, and alwaies preuent that in all things, which I am to speake. He will search into our schooles, and obiect to our Philosophers their many gifts, their wenches, and good cheere. Hee will shew mee one in a­dulterie, another in a Tauerne, another in Court. He will represent vnto me that merry Greeke, the Philosopher Ariston, which was wont to dispute in his Litter, for he had chosen this time to publish his workes. Of whose sect a que­stion being mooued, Scaurus said vndoubtedly he is no Peripatetiques. Of the same man, when a question was moued to Iulius Graecinus, a man of good recko­ning, what he thought of him: I cannot (saith he) tell thee, for I know not for what he is proper, [...]or he hath not [...]ixed a firme soote in any degree of Philosophie; as if hee were to answere from a war-like Chariot. He will cast in my teeth the Monte­ba [...]ckes, which might with more honestie contemne, then sell Philosophy; yet am I resolued to suffer his vpbraids [...] Let him moue me to laughter, happily I will prouoke him to teares; or if he perseuere in his laughter, I will laugh with him, as in a compleat sicknesse, because he is fallen into so pleasant a manner of madnesse. But obserue this, this iollitie is not of long continuance. Thou shalt behold such as th [...]se for a while laugh very hartily, and in as little while raue most bitterly. I am resolued to set on him, and to shew him how farre better he were, when they should esteeme him f [...]rre lesse. If I cannot wholly cut off his vices, at the least-wise I will restraine them, they shall not cease but intermit; but happily they shall cease also, if they take a custome to intermit. Neither is this to be disliked, because in those that are gi [...]uously sicke, a good remission of the sicknesse is taken for health. Whilest thus I prepare my selfe for him, see that thou, who canst, and knowest whence thou art escaped, and in what state thou standest, and thereby presumest how farre thou oughtest to attaine, go­u [...]rne thy manners, raise thy spirit, make head against those things that are to be doubted, and number not those that giue thee cause of feare. If a man should be afraid of a multitude of people gathered together in one place, by which e­uery one of them, one after another, must haue his passage; wouldest thou not thinke him a foole? Though diuers men threaten thy life, yet diuers cannot attempt after the same manner. The ordinance of Nature is such, that one on­ly may as soone ridde thee of thy life, as one gaue it thee: if thou haddest any shame in thee, thou haddest sent me backe the last quarter of my pension. But lest I behaue my selfe vntowardly, in paying the vsurie of another mans money, I will pay thee that I owe thee. I would neuer please the people. For those things I know, the people alloweth not, and that which the people alloweth, I know not. Whose is this, sayeth thou? As if thou knewest not whom I command. Is it Epicurus. But the very same will all of them declaime vnto thee, from euery house of the Pe­ripatetiques, Academickes, Stoickes, Cynickes. For who pleaseth Vertue, that can please the common people: popular fauour is purchased by euill Artes; thou must needs make thy selfe like vnto them. They will not allow thee, except they know thee. But it is farre more expedient that thou take heed to that which thou thinkest thy selfe, then either to attend, or intend the opinion of o­thers. The friendship that is borne to dishonest things, cannot be formed, but by dishonest reason. What then; shall this Philosophie, so much esteemed and [Page 215] preferred aboue all arts, and other things haue the vpper hand, that is, that ra­ther thou make account to please thy selfe, then to please the people; that thou esteemest the opinions of one iudgement according to their waight, and not ac­cording to their number, that thou gouerne thy life without feare, eyther of gods, or of men: & as touching misfortunes, eyther that thou surmount them, or thou end them. But if I shall see thee in credite by common voyce, and fa­uoured amiddest the multitude, if then when thou commest into the Theatre, the acclamations, the applauses, and all the equipage of Players and Mimicks make a bruite: if euen to the very women and little children, euery one speaketh well of thee throughout the towne, why should I not haue pittie on thee, kno­wing what way conducteth thee to this fauour?

EPIST. XXX.

That we ought to be prepared for death, and take courage in it by example of AVFIDI­VS BASSVS, who being olde both willingly heareth of the same, and speaketh and proueth it with many reasons, that it is not to be feared. By the way some other things.

I Saw that good man Bassus A [...]fidius broken and wrestling with age, but at this present he is so much surcharged therewith, that it is impossible for him to raise himselfe again; age hath throwne himselfe vpon him with his whole waight. Thou knowest very well, that he hath alwayes had a weake, a drie bodie, which hee hath long time continued; or, to speake more properly, repaired and pieced; but in the end it is all at once defeated. Euen as in a leaking Ship a man stoppeth a leake or two, but when it taketh in water on euery side, there is no more means to auoyde the same, but that it must needes sinke to the bottom: so in a bodie which is olde and crazed, the weakenesse may for a time be relieued and fortifi­ed, but when the ioynts fall asunder as an olde building, and as the one is repay­red, the other is loosened, there is no other circumspection to be had, but to thinke how a man may get out of it. Yet our Bassus hath a good courage, for this Philosophie yeeldeth him [...] she maketh couragious in all habitudes of the bodie, ioyfull in the presence of death, and not faint, hard in the defiance of life. A good Pilot saileth although his sailes be rent; and if the tempest hath disarm­ed him, yet maketh he vse of the rest of his rigging to finish his voyage. The like doth our Bassus, and with that minde and countenance beholdeth hee his end, that thou wouldest iudge him to be ouer-firme and resolute, who should in the like sort behold another mans end. This is a great vertue Lucilius, and re­quireth long time to be learned, to forsake this life with a constant resolution, when that vnauoydable houre of death shall approach vs. All other kindes of death are intermixed with hope: Sicknesses are healed, fire is extinguished, the ruinous house sometimes softly layeth them on the ground, which it should al­together crush to pieces. He that hath beene swallowed vp with one surge of the Sea, hath beene cast a shoare whole and sound by an opposite billow: the sword which the souldier had aymed to strike, hath beene reuoked by his hand from the very necke of the conquered; but he whom age leadeth vnto death, hath nothing more to hope, onely it is that alone which admitteth no compri­mise. Men die not more sweetly then after this manner, neyther also in any sort are they longer a dying. Our friend Bassus seemeth so to behaue hims [...]lfe, [Page 216] as if he should suruiue himselfe; so great constancie and wisedome sheweth he in this his decadence: for he speaketh much of death, and doth it the more care­fully, that if there be eyther incommoditie or feare in this businesse, it is the fault of him that dyeth, not of death; and that there is no more euill in the same, then after the same: and as mad is he, who feareth that which he is to suf­fer, as he that feareth that which he is not to feele. Can any man thinke that these should come to passe, that a man should feele death, by which we feele nothing? Therefore, saith he, death is not onely out of euill, but out of the feare of all euill. I know very well that such discourses haue beene often had, and must oftentimes be made: but it neuer profited mee so much to reade or heare them; when they that saw the same neere themselues, were farr [...] from danger of those things, which they said should not be feared. But this man had very much credite and authoritie with me, speaking thus of death, whom I saw in himselfe addressed to die. I will freely speake that which I thinke, that he giueth a better testimonie of his vertue and constant minde, that approacheth the con [...]ines of death, then he that is in death it selfe, for that it is which giueth heart to the most fearefull, and animateth against that which is ineuitable. So the fearefull and dismayed Fencer during the combate, willingly presenteth his throate vnto his enemie, and if the sword slip aside, himselfe addresseth and gui­deth it with his owne hand. But despise her [...]hat giueth vs leisure to see her ap­proach, and is vpon the point to lay hands on vs, there needeth more settled and maturely established constancie, which cannot be but in him that is perfectly wise. I therefore attentiuely lent eare vnto him, and more willingly heard him how hee sentenced of death, and discoursed on the nature thereof, as one that had eyed her very nigh. More trust and credite, as I thinke, should he haue with thee that were newly reuiued from death, and that being experien­ced in the same, should shew [...]hee that there w [...]re no euill in death. What per­turbation the accesse of death bringeth, they can best tell thee that haue more neerely obserued her, that haue both seene her comming, and entertained her being come. Amongst these thou mayest number Bassus, who vnwilling and loth to haue vs deceiued, telleth vs that it is as foolish a thing to feare death, as to feare olde age: for euen as age followeth youth, so death followeth age. He would not liue that will not die: for life is giuen with an exception of death, to feare which is as much more foolish, then if a man should feare doubtful things, and attend certaine. Death hath a necessitie equall and inuincible, who can complaine that he is in that estate which no man is not in? for the first part of equitie is equalitie. But now it is a vaine matter to pleade natures cause, which would that our condition should be no other then her owne. She resolueth that which she hath compounded, and whatsoeuer she h [...]th resolued, that com­poundeth she againe. Now if it be any mans chance to be gently carried away by age, and not suddenly pulled out of life, but drawne away by minutes, hath he not cause to praise the gods, for sending him after sacietie, a necessarie repose to humanitie, and agreeable vnto his wearinesse. Thou seest some men wishing death, yea with [...]arre greater z [...]le, then they were accustomed to demand life. I cannot very well tell which of these giues vs more heart, eyther they which demand, or else they which attend death without trouble or [...]ediousnesse, be­cause rage and sudden indignation may be cause of this first affection, whereas this last can be no other thing, then a tranquilitie which proceedeth [...]rom dis­course and iudgement. Some man may precipitate himselfe into death through despite and choler, but no man entertaineth her with contentment when shee [Page 217] commeth, but he that is formed by long custome and continuance. I confesse that I haue more often visited this good man, and my great friend, to see if I might alwayes finde him the same, and whether the constancie of his mind de­cayed not through the feeblen [...]sse of bodie: but contrariwise, I haue alwayes found that it encreased in him, euen as we see the ioy more manifest in those, who after they haue been long time tired to gaine the prize of a course, approch the place where the palme is proposed. Hee said (conforming himselfe to the precepts of Epicurus) that first of all he should haue no paine in that last gaspe; or if he had, that he comforted himselfe in this, that it should not be long, because there is no griefe which is long, that is, great: and put the case vpon the same point of the diuision of soule and bodie, if there should fall out any torment; he comforted himselfe with this assurance, that at leastwise after this griefe, there could neuer any more succeed, and that he knew very well, that the soule and life of an old man stucke but a little within his lippes, and with a little breath would be easily seuered. The fire that hath sufficient matter to feed vpon, is extinguished by water, and sometimes by raine; that fire that wanteth fuell, di­eth of it selfe. I very willingly giue [...]are to these things, my Lucilius, not as no­uelties, but such as presently henceforth I must make proofe of. What then? haue I not seene very m [...]ny that haue abridged the course of their life? I haue seene them, but I esteeme them farre more, which come vnto death without hatred of life, and which draw her not on, but entertaine her. Furthermore he said, that this trembling and feare which wee haue, when wee beleeue that death is neere vnto vs, is forged by our selues, and we trauell to ti [...]e our selues. For to whom is she not assistant in all places, and at all times? But let vs consider, saith he, when any occasion of death seemeth to approach vs, how many other causes there bee that are more neere, which are not feared at all. Wee should feare death at the hands of our enemie, and in the meane while cruditie, or a cathar cutteth vs short. If we would distinguish the causes of our feare, wee shall finde that they are other then they seeme to be. We feare not the stroake of death, but the thought. For we are not further off her at one time then wee are at another. So if death be to be feared, it is alwayes to be feared, for what time is exempted from death? But I had need to feare, lest thou hate so long E­pistles worse then death. I will therefore make an end. But thinke thou alwaies on death, that thou mayest neuer feare her.

EPIST. XXXI.

That both the vowes and iudgements of the common people are to be despised. That the true good is to be sought for, and that is the knowledge of things, by which thou mayest discerne truth from falsehood, perishable from durable. He doth illustrate it by examples.

NOw doe I acknowledge my Lucilius, he beginneth to discouer himselfe to be such a one, as he alwayes promised he would bee. Continue then to keepe this course, and follow this tract and fer­uour of mind, by which in contemning the popular goods, thou embracest those things that are of better condition. I desire not that thou shouldest make thy selfe either more great or better, then thou endeuourest to be. Thy foundations haue occupied a great place, onely doe as [Page 218] much as thou hast intended to doe, and keepe thy selfe to those things which thou hast alreadie conceiued. In summe, thou shalt be wise, if thou knewest well how to close vp thine eares, which it sufficeth not to damme vp with waxe: thou must close stop them after another manner, then Vlisses did those of his compani­ons. The voice which he feared was sweet and alluring, yet not publike. But that which is to be feared, commeth not from one rocke only, it soundeth [...]rom all parts of the earth. Passe therefore speedily, not onely one suspected place of this trayterous pleasure, but all Cities. Be thou deafe vnto those that loue thee mos [...]. They with a good intent afford thee euill wishes, and if thou wilt be hap­pie, beseech the gods that no one of those things that are wished thee, may fall vpon thee. They are no goods, which they wish thou shouldest be repleni [...]ed wi [...]h. There is but one good, which is the cause and foundation of a blessed life, to trust a mans selfe. But this cannot happen except labour be contemned, and esteemed in the number of these things, which are neither good nor euill. For i [...] cannot come to passe, that one thing should bee now euill, and s [...]raight good; now light and to be suffered, now insupportable, and to be feared. La­bour is not good, what then is good? the contempt of labour. I should blame those that are vainely industrious, and to no purpose. Againe, such as endeuour a [...]ter honest [...]hings, the more they busie themselues, and the lesse they permit themselues to be ouercome and kept at a stand, I shall admire and crie, arise by so much better, and respire and get the top of this cli [...]fe with one breath, if thou canst. Labour nourisheth generous minds. Thou art not therefore, according to that old vow of thy parents, to make choice, what thou wouldest, should be­fall [...]hee, or what thou shouldest wish: and in summe, to a man that hath ouer­passed alreadie mighti [...] things, it is vnseemely and loathsome as yet to wearie the gods. What need there any vowes? Make thou thy selfe happie, and happie shalt thou make thy selfe, if thou vnderstand that those things are good, which are mixed with ver [...]ue; euill, which are coupled with malice. Euen as nothing is cleere without the mixture of light; nothing black, but [...]hat which hath dark­nesse in it, or hath drawne some obscuritie into it selfe. Euen as without the helpe of fire nothing is hot, nothing without the aire is cold; so the societie of vertue and vice [...] make things honest, or dishonest. What therefore is good? the knowledge of things: what is euill? the ignorance of things. Hee is a prudent man, and his arts master, that according to the time repelleth or chuseth euery thing. But neither feareth he that which he repelleth, neither admireth he that which he chuseth, if so be his mind be great and inuincible. I forbid thee to sub­mit or su [...]fer thy selfe to be deprest. If thou refuse not labour, it is a little matter, require it. What labour therefore, sayest thou, is friuolous and voide? that in­to which base causes haue called vs, is not euill no more then that which is em­ployed in worthy actions, because it is onely the patience of the minde, which encourageth it selfe to hard and desperate attempts, and saith: Why feares [...] thou? It is not a manly part to feare labour: and hereto let that be annexed, that thy vertue may be perfect, namely, an equalitie and t [...]nour of life in euery thing consonant vnto it selfe, which cannot be except the knowledge of things happen, and Art, by which both diuin [...] and humane things may bee knowne. This is the chiefest good, which if thou possessest, thou beginnest to be a com­panion [...] not a suppliant of [...]he gods. But how, sayest thou, may one attaine thereunto? It is not by the Apeninne Al [...]es, or the mount Graius, neither by the deserts of Candauia, neither art thou to p [...]sse the Syrtes or Scilla, or Charibdis, all which thou hast done, for the price of a base pettie gouernment. The way [Page 219] that nature hath made and taught thee, is full of securitie and pleasure. Shee hath giuen thee those things, which if thou forsake not, thou shalt be made like vnto God; but equall with God thy money will not make thee. God hath no­thing: Thy proud ornaments will not make thee. God is naked: The reputa­tion of men, thy ostentation, and the knowledge of thy name will not make thee. No man knoweth God, diuers men haue a preposterous opinion of him, yet are they vnpunished. The troope of seruitours and slaues which are about thy litter [...] and that beare thee vpon their armes in [...]ield and Citie, cannot like­wise serue thee any thing. That mightie and most powerfull God, he it is that carrieth all things. Neither thy beautie or strength likewise can make th [...]e bles­sed, none of these but is subiect to alteration. Thou art therefore to seeke out that, that is not impaired by any, and that is such a thing, as a man cannot wish a better. What is this? a minde: but this right, good, and great. What else wilt thou call this, but a god, dwelling in humane bodie? This mind may fall as well, into a Romane Knight, as a Libertine, or seruant. For these names are forged out of ambition or iniury. It is lawful from the least corner of the world, to leape vp into heauen. Raise thy selfe therefore, and fashion thy selfe worthie of God: but this cannot be made either with gold or siluer. Of such matter as this a man cannot make an Image that resembleth God. Remember that they when they were fauourable vnto vs, their Images were made of earth.

EPIST. XXXII.

He praiseth LVCILIVS his solitude and retyring. Moreouer, he exhorteth that no man should steale away the time, being so short, and flitting. That he contemne also v [...]lgar vowes.

I Diligently enquire of thy behauiour, and demand of all those that come from the place where thou dwellest, what thou doest, and where, and with whom thou abidest. Thou canst not deceiue me, I am with thee. Liue thou in that fashion, as if I heard what thou diddest, yea as if I saw thine actions. Thou requirest of me, what delighteth me most, of those things I heare of thee? Truly it is that I heare no­thing of thee, and that the most part of those whom I question with about thee, know not what thou doest. It is a wholesome aduice not to conuerse with those which are different from thy nature, and that affect other things then thou doest. I am setled in this hope, that thou canst not be mis [...]ed, and that thou wilt [...]irmely keepe thy deliberation, although a troope of troublesome men doe haunt round about thee. What is it then? I feare not that they will change thee, but I feare they will hinder thee. But he hurteth very much that delayeth and especially in this life, which is so short, which we abbreui [...]t by inconstancy, giuing it now one beginning, afterwards, and that instantly another. Wee di­uide it, and cut it in peeces. Haste thee then, my dearest Lucilius, and thinke with thy selfe, how much thou shouldest double thy pace, if behind thee thou wert pressed by thine enemie, if thou thoughtest the horse-man pursued thee, and traced after the foot-steps of those that fled. Thou art at that point, thou art chased, haste thee, and escape: bring thy selfe into a place of securitie; and then incontinently after consider, how worthy a thing it is to consummate a mans life, before death, then to expect securitie in the remainder part of his [Page 220] time placed in the possession of a blessed life, which is not made more blessed if longer. O when shalt thou see that time, wherein thou knowest that time ap­p [...]rtaineth not vnto thee, wherein thou shalt be peaceable and contented, and neglectfull of to morrow, and in chiefest sacietie of thy selfe? Wilt thou know what it is that maketh men greedie of that which is to come? No man is for himselfe: thy father and mother haue wished thee diuers things [...] but contrari­wise, I wish thee the contempt of all those things, whereof they would haue thee enioy the affluence. Their vowes spoyle manie to enrich thee: whatsoe­uer they transferre vnto thee, is to be extorted from another. My desire is, that thou shouldest dispose of thy selfe, that thy spirit being assailed with incertaine [...]antasies should resist them, and be setled, that it should please it selfe, and vnder­standing true goods, which are possessed as soon as they are known, should need no adiection of age. Finally, he hath ouer-gone his necessities, and is discharged and free, who liueth when his life is done.

EPIST. XXXIII.

He denieth that sentences or short lessons should be gathered from t [...]e Stoicks: first, be­cause all things are replenished and [...]ull of such things; againe, because it is vnseemely to speake alwayes by authoritie. Let vs make them ours, and preferre them in our life.

THou desirest in these Epistles also, as in the former, that I set down certaine sentences of our Masters. They were not much occupied about the flowers of discourse: all their maner of speech was sub­s [...]antiall and manly: know thou that inequalitie is there, where those things that are eminent are notable. No man admireth one tree, when as all the wood is growne to the same height. With these and such like sentences, all Poems and Histories are stuffed. I will not therefore haue thee think that they are of Epicurus: they are vulgar, and especially mine owne. But in that are they most noted, because they seldome occurre, because vnexpe­cted, because it is a wonder that any thing should be constantly spoken by a man that professeth delicacie: for so doe diuers men iudge; but in my opinion [...]picurus is valiant, although e [...]eminately dressed. Fortitude and industrie, and a minde addressed to warre, as well lodgeth in a Persian as a high-girt Roman. Thou must not therefore exact at my handes choyce and well digested stuffe, that is continuall amongst our Masters, which amongst others is selected. Wee vent not therefore these eye-pleasing and odoriferous wares, neyther deceiue we our Merchant, like to finde nothing wh [...]n he entreth, besides those which are hanged vp in the front for a show. We permit them to take their patterne from whence they please. Thinkest thou that I will take out of the whole Map the particular sentences of any? To whom shall I assigne them, to Zeno, or Cleanthes, or Chrysippus, or Panaetius, or Possidonius? We are not vnder a King; [...]uery one maintayneth himselfe in his owne libertie: with them whatsoeuer [...]ermarchus saith, whatsoeuer Metrodorus, it is referred to one. All whatsoeuer any man hath spoken in that companie [...] is spoken by authoritie, and directions of one alone. We cannot, I tell thee, although we attempt that out of so great abundance of equall things, bring forth any thing:

It is a poore mans part to count his [...]locke.

[Page 221] Wheresoeuer thou fixes [...] thine eye, thou shalt meete with that which might be eminent, vnlesse it were read amongst others of equall worthinesse: for which cause lay apart this hope, which flattereth thee with the possibilitie, that thou mayest summarily conceiue the choysest things, which the greatest spirits haue conceited. They are intirely to be looked ouer, & wholy to be discussed. When a man doth any thing he intendeth the same, and by the proiect of his spirit the worke is compiled, of which a man can dis [...]member nothing without the ruine of the whole. I denie thee not but that thou mayest consider euery mem­ber one after another, prouided it be in a man that hath them. The woman is not faire whose legge or arme is praised, but shee whose full representation is cause that a man admireth not her parts; yet if thou exact the same, I will not deale so niggardly with thee as I make shew for, but with a full hand. There is a huge companie of them that li [...] scattered here and there: they are to be ta­ken, but not gathered; for they fall not, but flow perpetually, and are tyed toge­ther amongst themselues: neyther doubt I but that they will profite those who are as yet rude, and yeeld but a superficiall attention. For those things that are circumscribed and moulded after the manner of a verse, are more easily re­membred. Therefore giue we children certaine sentences to commit to memo­rie, and those which the Grecians call Chries, because a childish wit can compre­hend them, being as yet vncapable of a more certaine and solid science. A complete man hath no honour to gather nose-gayes, to stay himselfe and build on certaine vsuall or few wordes, and to trust vnto his memorie, hee ought to trust himselfe. Let him speake these but not retaine them: for it is a base thing for an olde man, or such a one as is stept in yeares to be wise in nothing but his note-booke. This said Zeno, what sayest thou? This Cleanthes, but what thou? How long art thou directed by others? both command and say what shall be committed to memorie, and produce somewhat of thine owne. I thinke there­fore that these neuer-authors, but alwayes interpreters, lying hid vnder the sha­dow of other men, haue no generous nature in them, which neuer dared to publish that which they had learned in long space of time, but haue exercised their memorie on other mens labours. It is one thing to remember, another thing to know: to remember is to keepe a thing in memorie which is commit­ted; but contrariwise, to know is to make euery thing his owne, neyther to hang on examples, and so oftentimes to looke backe to his Master. This saith Zeno, that Cleanthes: make some difference betwixt thee and thy booke; how long wilt thou be a learner? At last employ thy selfe to teach others: what profiteth it me to heare that I may reade? The liuing voyce, saith hee, doth much; not that which is recommended by another mans wordes, and serueth but in stead of a Register. Adde hereunto now, that they who are neuer their owne Masters, first in that thing doe follow their ancestors, wherein no man hath not reuoked from the former. Againe, they follow them in that, which is yet in question: and it will neuer be found, if we shall be content with those thing [...] that are found. Moreouer, he that followeth another man hath found nothing, and which is worse, he seeketh nothing. What then? Shall I not follow the steps of mine ancestors? Truely I will keepe the olde wayes: but if I finde out one more short, I will take it and maintaine it. They that before vs haue managed these things, were not our Lords, but our guides. Truth is open vnto all men: she is not as yet borne away all; there is much of her left for posteritie to finde out.

EPIST. XXXIIII.

That hee is glad of LVCILIVS proficiencie, because it was [...]rom him, and he for­med him. Moreouer he exhorteth him to goe forward euen to perfection.

I Grow great, and leape for ioy, and shaking off min [...] olde age, I grow young againe, as often as I vnderstand by those things thou doest and writest, how much thy selfe exceedest thy selfe (for long since thou hadd [...]st forsaken the troupes of common so­cietie) If the tree being grown to beare fruit delighteth the hus­bandman: if the Shepheard take pleasure in the fruitfulnesse of his flocke: if no man beholdeth his [...]oster childe otherwise, but that he reputeth his young y [...]ares to be his owne: what thinkest thou befalleth them which haue formed yong spirits, when those they haue trained vp raw, they suddenly see ripe. I challenge thee for mine, thou art mine own labor. When first I saw thine incli­nation, I laide hold on thee, I exhorted thee, I encouraged thee; neyther per­mitted I thee to pace on sof [...]ly, but I pricked thee forward, and now doe I the like, and henceforward I am to giue thee courage, as long as thou shalt speedily runne forward, and thou reciprocally art to exhort me. What other thing haue I desired hitherto, sayest thou? In this the greater part of time is spent. For so euen as the beginnings of the worke are said to occupie the halfe, so is this busi­nes for the mind. The greater part of good, is to desire to become good. Know­est thou whom I call good? I mean a perfect and absolute man, whom no force or necessitie can prouoke to doe euill. And alreadie, me thinkes, I espie such a man in thy selfe, if thou pers [...]uer and endeuour, and effect this, that all thy deeds and words may be agreeable and correspondent in themselues, and stamped af­ter one coyne. His minde is estranged from the right way, whose acts are discordant.

EPIST. XXXV.

He wisheth him to be his friend that is a good man, otherwise no man is a friend, although he loueth. Let him therefore doe, and especially learne this, to liue conueniently; that is constantly, that is wisely.

WHen as so [...]arnes [...]ly I intreat thee to studie, I doe mine owne busi­nesse: I will haue a friend; which will not come to passe, except thou perseuer to beauti [...]ie thy selfe, as thou hast begun. For now thou louest me, but thou art not my friend: what then? is there a­nie difference betwixt these two? what else? they are vnlike. He that is a friend loue [...]h, and he that loueth is not assuredly a friend. For which cause friendship alwayes profiteth, and loue sometimes hurteth. If thou doest no other thing, profite at least wise so well, that thou mayest learne to loue well. But aboue all things haste thy selfe during the time thou studiest for me, for feare thou learn [...]st not for another. Verily I doe alreadie participate the fruit [...], when I imagine with my selfe that wee shall be of one minde, and that all that vigor which is eclipsed in mine age, shall returne vnto me from thine, al­though there is little difference betwixt the one and the other, yet will I really and essentially take my pleasure. There is a certain contentment that commeth vnto vs from those, we loue although they be absent; but it is but a light and [...]raile pleasure. The sight, the presence, and conuersation haue some liuing plea­sure [Page 223] in them, and principally if thou beholdest not onely him whom thou desi­rest, but him who is such a one whom thou desirest. Present thy s [...]lf [...] therefore vnto me as an honorable and acceptable gift; and to the end thou mayest presse in the more, thinke me to be old, and thy selfe to be mortall. Hasten thee to me, but first of all to thy selfe, profit thy selfe indeed. And aboue all things let this be thy care, that thou be constant to thy selfe. As often times as thou h [...]st a will to make triall, whether in any sort thou beest changed, obserue thy selfe, whether thou willest the same things to day, that thou diddest yesterday. The change of the will betokeneth that the minde swimmeth in one place, and ap­peareth in another, euen as the winde carrieth it. That which is firme and hath a good foundation varieth not,. This perfectly happeneth to a wise man, and in some measure to a proficient, and he that hath as yet attained further. What difference is there then? This is in a manner moued, yet passeth not further, but is shaken from his place, the other is in no sort moued.

EPIST. XXXVI.

He prayseth a certaine man that had deposed himselfe to retirement, and forsaken the Common-weale. He aduiseth him to contemne the common talke, to proceed in good­nesse, or rather to be made good. Let him goe [...]orward to despise death, and that with reason.

EXhort thy friend to contemne those with a mightie mind, that blame and reproue him for seeking out retirement and quiet, forsaking his dignities, and for preferring his quiet aboue all things, when as he might haue obtained most honor. Let him make them euery day perceiue, how profitably he hath mana­ged his affaires. They whose felicitie is enuied, will not desist from alterations, some shall be strucken downe, othersome shall fall. Felicitie is a turbulent thing, she tormenteth her selfe, she moueth the mind after diuers fashions: she push­eth some into greatnesse, other into effeminacie: these she puffeth vp, those she mollifieth and wholly dissolueth. But some man beareth his felicitie well, yea so as some doe their wine. There is no reason therefore, that these men should perswade thee, that he is happy, who is besieged with many suiters, they flocke to him, as to a lake whom they draw drie, they trouble grieuously. They call this friend, and louer of Philosophy, a trifler and a sluggard. Thou knowest that some men speake peruersely in a contrary sense. They called him happie: what of this? was he so? I make no account of this, that to some man he see­meth too seuere and sullen minded. Ariston said that he had rather haue a sad yong man, then such a one as was pleasing and amiable to the common sort. The wine is made good which is [...]roubl [...]d and sharpe when it is new, and it becommeth flat before maturitie, that pleased in the fat. Let them call him sad and enemie to his aduancements: this sadnesse of his will giue him good in his latter dayes. L [...]t him perseuer only to loue vertue, and exercise himselfe in the good and Liberall Sciences, not those wherewith it sufficeth to be only tainted and informed, but those wherewith the minde is to bee stained and confirmed in. This is the true time of learning. What then? Is there any time wherein we are not to learne? Not so, but euen as at all times it is honest for vs to study, so in all ages is it not conuenient to beginne. It is an absurde and base thing to [Page 224] see an old man at his Abee. The yong man must get, and the old man enioy. Thou shalt therefore doe a thing profitable for thy selfe, if thou makest him a good man, we ought to seeke to giue thee presents, where it is as much expedi­ent to giue as to receiue. Finally, since he hath alreadie promised very much of himselfe, it concerneth him to continue. For it is lesse absurd to play the banquerout with a mans creditour, then with good hope. To pay this debt of anothers: hee that trafficketh hath need of a good and happie nauigation: hee that tilleth the field, of a fertile soile and a fauourable climate, he onely with a good wil may testifie that which he oweth. Fortune hath no power ouer maners. Let him dispose these in such sort, that that most quiet mind of his may come to perfection, which feeleth nothing taken from him, neither added to him, but remaineth in the same state, whatsoeuer casualties befall him: who, if common fortunes be heaped on him, is eminent aboue his meanes, or if any of these things, or all by fortune are taken from him, is no wayes lessened by his misery. If he were borne in Parthia, he would presently bend his bow, being an infant, if in Germany he were a very infant, he would shake his tender speare. If he had liued in the time of our ancestors, he had learned to ride, and to combate with the enemie hand to hand. These are the things which the discipline of the Countrie teacheth and commandeth euery one. What is it then that this man ought to learne? That which is proofe against all offensiue armes, and all sorts of enemies, is the contempt of death. For it is not to bee doubted, but that it hath in it selfe something terrible, that may offend our mindes (which Nature hath formed in loue of her selfe) neither also should it be needfull for him to addresse and accustome himselfe to that, whereunto our naturall inclination s [...]fficiently disposeth vs, as is the desire to conserue a mans selfe. No man lear­neth to haue power, if need so required, to lye sweetly and softly amongst the roses: but to this is he accustomed not to submit his faith and honour to tor­ments, but to keepe watch in the trenches standing, yea sometimes wounded: neither leaning to the dart, because in the interim sleepe seemeth to steale on those that leane to any stay. Death hath no incommoditie, for there must bee some thing, whereby she would be indamnified. And if thou hast so great a de­sire of prolonging thy life, consider that none of these things that flie before our eyes, and hide themselues in the bosome of Nature, from which once they are parted, and shall againe depart, is not consumed. They cease, but perish not, and the death which wee feare and refuse, onely intermitteth life, but rauisheth it not. A day will come that shall restore vs once more to light, which happily di­uers would refuse, except it reduced those that are forgotten. But hereafter I will shew more exactly, if all things which seeme to perish are changed: he ther­fore that must returne, ought not to be grieued to depart. Obserue the circle of things that returne into themselues, thou shalt see that nothing is extinguished in this world, but that all things descend and mount againe by changes. The Summer departeth, but another yeare bringeth it againe. The Winter passeth, but yet hath he his monthes to bring him backe againe, The night concealeth the Sunne, and presently the day driueth this away. This course of the Starres returneth backe againe to the place where first they began, and which they pas­sed ouer. A part of the heauen is continually rising and a part setting. To con­clude, after I haue annexed this one thing, I will make an end, neither infants nor children or madde men feare death. It were therefore more then an abiect error in vs, if reason should not afford vs that securitie, whereunto folly anima­teth vs.

EPIST. XXXVII.

That wee ought to perseuere in the way and warfare of wisedome: on her dependeth health, felicitie, and libertie. That wee may obtaine, and ouercome the same by the conduct of warre.

THat which is the greatest obligation to prepare a man to a good minde, thou hast promised to be a good man, and by oath thou hast confirmed it. If any man tell thee that a souldiers profession is delicate and facile, he deceiueth thee; I will not haue thee de­ceiued. The forme of that honorable oath, and of that other so dishonorable are in the same termes, that is, To be burnt, bound, and slaine with the sword. To those that gaue their hands to hire vpon the sands of the Theater, that eat and drink that which they ought to pay with the price of their bloods, it is couenanted with them that they suffer these things against their willes: from thee it is expected, that thou willingly and freely su [...]fer the same. To them it is permitted to lay downe their weapons, and to implore the mercie of the people. Thou shalt neither submit thy selfe, nor beg for thy life, it is thy part to die constantly, and with an inuincible minde. But what profiteth it to gaine a few dayes or yeares? We come into this world without releasement. How then, sayest thou, may I acquite my selfe? Thou canst not auoide necessities, but thou mayest ouercome them. Make thy way, and Philosophie shall giue it thee; to her haue thy recourse, if thou wilt be safe, if secure, if blessed; and [...]inal­ly (which is aboue all) if thou desirest to be free. This cannot otherwise hap­pen. Folly is a base abiect [...] [...]ordide, and a seruile thing, subiect to many, and they most cruel affections. Wisdome which is the sole libertie, dismisseth those rude masters, which sometimes command by course, and sometimes are together. There is but one way to attaine thereunto, and certainely it is the righ [...] way: thou canst not wander out of it, martch boldly, if thou wilt make all things sub­iect vnto thee, subiect thy selfe to reason; thou shalt gouerne many; if thou be gouerned by reason. Thou shalt learne of her, how and to whom thou shalt addresse thy selfe. Thou shalt not be surprised in affaires. Thou shalt not bring me any man that knoweth how he began to will that which he willeth. He is not inuited thereunto by mature deliberation, but it is an enforcement that dri­ueth him thereunto. Fortune oftentimes doth no lesse haunt vs, then we hunt after her. It is a base thing, not to goe, but to be carried perforce, and sudden­ly (being altogether amazed amiddest the storme of affaires) to aske; How came I hither.

EPIST. XXXVIII.

That precepts are oftentimes more profitable to wisedome then disputes. That they doe steale vpon the minde, and doe fructisie and spend themselues after the manner of seede.

NOt without cause requirest thou, that we frequent this commerce of Epistles betwixt thee and me. The discourse profiteth much, that by little and little stealeth into the minde. The disputes which a man is addressed to vent in the cares of the attentiue multitude, haue brute enough and lesse priuacie. Philosophie is [Page 226] good counsell. No man giueth counsell with clamour, yet must we sometimes (as I should say) vse these declamations, when he that doubteth had need to be enforced. But where this is not to be effected, to inkindle a will in man to learne; but that in good earnest hee learneth, it is good to vse these more submissiue speeches. They enter more sweetly; but they continue, for there neede not many, but such as are effectuall. We ought to spread them as seede, which al­though it be little, dilateth his forces, when it falleth into a good soile; and of so little as it is, it extendeth it selfe into great and meruailous great encreases. The like doth speech, it hath no extent, if thou looke into it, it encreaseth in the worke. They are few things which are spoken, but if the minde entertaine them well, they fructificand encrease in themselues. The same I tell thee is the condition of precepts, as of seeds, they effect much, although they be short [...] but as I haue said; let a minde well disposed and setled, draw them to it selfe. Her selfe will profit very much at her time, and shall restore more then it hath re­ceiued.

EPIST. XXXIX.

That diuers, and they diuersly haue written in Philosophy. That we ought to be stirred vp, and enkindled by example. That Nature hath this scope to call vs to high things. In which there is no plebeian felicitie, neither pleasure, because they are either fraile or hurtfull.

THe Commentaries thou demandest at my hands carefully dispo­sed and reduced into an abridgement, I will truely compose. But see whether an ordinarie Oration be not more profitable, then this which is now commonly called a Breuiarie, and in times past when we spake Latine, a Summarie. The one is more necessarie for him that learneth, the other for him that vnderstandeth; the one teacheth, the other remembreth. But of both these I will [...]econcile both the one and the other. It needeth not now that thou exact at my hands, either this or that au­thoritie. He is vnknowne that brings his Proctor with him. I will write what thou willest; but after mine owne manner. In the meane time thou hast ma­ny, whose writings I know not whether they bee sufficiently digested or no. Take in hand the list of the Philosophers. This very sight will compell thee to rouse thy selfe, and if thou seest how many haue laboured for thee, thou thy selfe likewise wilt desire to be one of them. For a generous minde hath this ex­cellent impression in it, that it is inkindled and incited to honest things. There is no nobly minded man, that is delighted with base and contemptible things: he only seeketh after and extolleth those things, which make shew of greatnes and worthines. Euen as the flame directly mounteth vpward, neither may be diuerted nor depressed, or lose his actiuitie: so is our spirit in continuall motion, by so much the more stirring and actiue, by how much it is more vehement and mightie. But happie is he that hath imployed the viuacitie hereof in matters of better estimate: he shall settle himselfe in a place exempted from Fortunes command or iurisdiction: his felicities he shall temper, his aduersities conquer, and contemne those things that draw other men to admiration. It is the effect of a great minde to contemne great things, and rather to affect the meane, then bee infected with excesse. For these are pro [...]itable and permanent, the other [Page 227] hurtfull, because superfluous. So too great fertility layeth the corne, so boughes ouer-loaden are broken, so too much fruitfulnesse neuer endeth in maturitie. The like also be falleth those mindes that are broken, and corrupt with immo­derate felicitie, because [...]hey are not onely imployed to other mens iniurie, but also to their owne. What enemie so outragious against any man, as is some mens voluptuousnesse against themselues? whose impotencie and mad lust thou mayest pardon for this one reason, because they suffer that which they of­fended in. Neither vndeseruedly doth this furie vexe them; for it is necessari [...], that desire should extend it selfe aboue measure, that hath falsi [...]ied the medio­critie of nature: for naturall affection hath his end, but vaine things, and such as spring from an excessiue lust, are interminable. Profit measureth things necessa­rie; how wilt thou confine sup [...]rfluities? They th [...]refore drowne themselues in pleasures, which they cannot shake off, in that they are brought into a cu­stome: and for this cause are they most miserable, because they are growne vn­to those termes, that those things which were superfluous vnto them, are made necessarie; they therefore s [...]rue their pleasures, and enioy them not, and loue their owne mischiefe, which is the worst of all mischiefe. And then is infelicitie consummat [...], whereas such things as are dishonest, not onely doe delight, but al­so please: and then is the remedy hopelesse, where such things as were disho­nest, are reputed for common custome.

EPIST. XL.

He exhorteth to write, because in it is the Image of the minde. Then of SERAPIONS prompt and profuse speech, which he alledgeth to be vndecent for a Philosopher. A graue and slowe speech entreth and descendeth farther.

IN that thou writest often vnto me, I thanke thee; for by that onely meanes which thou canst, thou shewest thy selfe vnto me. I neuer r [...]ceiue thy Epistle, but that forthwith we are together. If the pi­ctures of our absent friends be pleasing vnto vs, which renew their m [...]morie, and by a false and fained solace do lighten the griefe of their absence; how much more pleasing are letters, which set before our eyes the true trace & liuely picture of our absent friends? For that which giueth vs an vnspeakeable conten [...], the hand of a friend that writeth a letter vnto vs, causeth vs to feele. Thou writest vnto me, that thou heardest Serapion the Philosopher, when he a­riued in those parts, and how it was his custome in discoursing to huddle vp his worde [...] with great volubilitie, which he powreth not out together, but smothe­ [...]eth and forceth: for more is vttered then one voyce can articulate. This allow I not in a Philosopher, whose pronounciation, as his life, ought to be composed. But no [...]ing is well ordered that is precipitate and hastie. For this caus [...] that running and continuate discourse in Homer that falleth incessantly like snow, is properly attributed to the Orator; where that which is more slow, & swee­ter th [...]n honey floweth from an olde man. Resolue therefore on this, that this viole [...]t and abundant vigor of discourse, is more fitte for a jester or Mounte­banke, then him that debateth on a graue and serious subiect, or such a one that will teach another man. Neyther will I that the discourse be too headlong, neyther too dreaming [...] neyther such as may suspend attention, or confound the hearing For that defect & imbecilitie of speech maketh the auditor lesse atten­tiue, [Page 228] by reason of the disgust of interrupted slownesse: yet is that more easily im­printed in memorie which is expected, then that which passeth away slightly. Furthermore men are said to giue precepts to those will learne: it is not giuen, that flieth. Adde hereunto now, that the discourse which serueth to manifest truth, ought to be simple and without flourish. This popular discourse, hath no truth in it, it tendeth onely to moue the people, & is forcible to rauish incon­siderate [...]ares, it admitteth no moderation, but suffereth it selfe to be carried a­way. But how can it gouerne, which cannot be gouerned? Finally, what should a man thinke of that discouse, which serueth to heale the infirmities of the spi­rit, except it should search and descend into vs? Medicines cure not except they be digested: moreouer, it hath much slightnesse and vanity in it, and hath more report then reckoning in it. The things that terrifie me must be lenified, which prouoke me must be pacified, that deceiue me must be shaken off: lecherie must be restrained, couetousnesse reproued; what one of these things can be done suddenly? What Phisitian cur [...]th his Patients by only passing by them? What profiteth this noyce of headlong and vnchosen wordes, which yeeld not a sha­dow of any pleasure? But euen as it is sufficient to know diuers things, which thou wouldest not beleeue they could be done, so is it sufficient to heare them once, that haue exercised themselues in this manner of discourse. For what can a man learne, or what will he imitate, or what can he iudge of their minds whose speech is confused and hudled, and cannot be restrayned? Euen as they that runne from a steepe hill, stay not themselues in that place where their intention was, but are borne downe swiftly by the waight of their bodies, and transported further then they would; so this viuacitie and celerite of speech, cannot com­mand it selfe, neyther is it sufficiently beseeming Philosophie, which ought to employ wordes, and not to cast them away, but by little and little to aduance it selfe. What then? Shall it not sometimes swell also? Why not, prouided that the honestie of maners be not interessed; which is not depriued by maine force and minicke impetuositie of words? Let her haue great force but moderate. The water must haue a continuall course, but not rauishing. I scarcely will per­mit an Orator to haue such swifnesse in discourse so irreuocable, and boundles: for how can a Iudge follow the list of his discourse, especially if it be impertinent and rude, if hee suffer himselfe at that time to be borne away by ostentation, or such a passion as he cannot master? Let him in such sort make hast, and infer that his auditories attention may be able to conceiue. Thou shalt therefore do well, if thou visite them not who seeke how much, and not what they speake. And if it happen that thou art to make an Oration, then make thy choyce to speak after the maner of Publius Vinicius, of whom it being on a time demanded, how he discoursed? As [...]llius answered continually: for Geminius Varius had said, I know not how you call this man an eloquent man, hee cannot couple three words together. Why haddest thou not rather say so as Venicius did? Let some foole come hither, and when he shall see him dreame out his wordes one after another, as if he dictated and not discoursed, bid him Speake or neuer speake. My opinion is, that the forme of hastie speech, which in that time the famous Ora­tor Harterius vsed, ought to be reiected by men of vnderstanding: hee neuer doubted, he neuer intermitted, he began and ended after the same manner: yet thinke I, that some things ar [...] more or lesse conuenient for people of different nations. Amongst the Greekes this licence were to be borne withall, and we al­so when we write, are wont to point euery word. And now Cicero also from whom Roman eloquence gathered excellency, was temperate in his discou [...]ses. [Page 229] The Romane tongue ouer-look [...]th all, and will be both respected and courted. Fabianus a worthy man both in life and science (and that is least of these) in elo­quence also, disputed more quickly then veh [...]mently, so as it might be said, that it was a facilitie, and not a celeriti [...]. This admit I in a wise-man: I exact not that his speech be deliuered without impediment; rather had I it should be pro­nounced then lauished. And the more doe I deterre thee from this sicken [...]sse, because this thing cannot otherwise befall thee, then by ceasing to haue mode­stie. Thou mayest rubbe thy brow, and not heare thy selfe [...] for this vnaduised course will draw on many things, which thou wouldest not let slip without re­prehension. These things I tell thee cannot happen vnto thee without preiu­dice of thy modestie: Besides, thou haddest neede of daily exercise, and thy studie is to be transferred from matters to words: and these also, although they flowe with thee, and may runne fluent without any labor of thine, yet are they to be tempered: for euen as a modest gate becommeth a wise-man, so doth a setled and not extrauagant discourse. The totall summe then of this account shall be this, I enioyne thee to be slowe in speech.

EPIST. XLI.

Oh excellent and deep Epistle! That God dwelleth in vs, and that a good man is nothing without him. Let vs honour him, and the minde that descendeth from him. In him are our peculiar and proper goods, all other are forraine. But the thing that is good is perfect reason.

THou doest a worthie thing, and profitable to thy selfe, if, as thou writest, thou perseuerest to obtaine a good minde. How fond is it to wish the same, when as it dependeth on thine owne will? Thy hands are not to be lifted vp to heauen, neyther is the Pre­late to be intreated, to admit thee to the eares of an Image, that thou mightest bee the better heard: God is neere vnto thee, hee is with thee, hee is within thee. Thus tell I thee, Lucilius: A sacred spirit is resident in vs, an obseruer and guardian both of our good and euils: he in like manner as we intreate him, so handleth he vs. There is no good man but hath a God within him. May any man insult ouer fortune, except he be assisted by him? he it is that giueth the noblest and most vpright counsailes. In euery good man (but what God it is vncertaine) God inhabiteth. If happily thou light into a thicke groue, full of auncient trees, and such as exceede the common height, sh [...]dowing the sight of heauen from thee, through the thickenesse of boughes cou [...]ing one another; that height of the wood, and secrecie of the place, and the admiration of the shadow, so thicke and continuate in the open skie, will perswade thee there is some diuine presence. And if a Caue ouer-hangeth a Mountaine, eaten out of the Rocke, not made by handes, but hollowed by na­tur [...]ll causes into such a concauity, it will strike thy mind with a certaine conceit of Religion. We adore the head-springs of great riuers. A suddaine eruption of a vast riuer out of the depth hath alters. The fountaines of warme waters are honoured, and the shadow or huge depth of some standing poole hath sacred it. If thou behold a man that is dreadles of perrils, vntouched with desires, hap­pie in his afflictions, pacified in midst of tempests, beholding men from a high place, the gods from an equall; wilt thou not grow into a certaine veneration [Page 230] of him? Wilt thou not say this is a greater and more high thing, then that it might be trusted to so little a bodie as it inhabiteth? The diuine power descen­deth hither. This excellent and moderate minde, ouerpassing all things as if abiect, laughing at whatsoeuer we eyther feare or hope is inkindled by a celesti­all power. So great a thing cannot consist without the helpe of a God. There­fore as touching the greatest part of him, he is there from whence he descended. Euen as the Sunne beames doe in a manner touch the earth, but remaine there from whence they are sent; so a great and sacred minde, and to this end hum­bled, that he may more neerely apprehend diuine things is conuersant in vs, but cleaueth to his originall. Thereon it dependeth, thereat it aymeth, and thereto it endeuoureth, to vs it appertaineth, as the better part. What a one therefore is this? a minde that dependeth on no other good but his owne. For what is more foolish then to praise that in a man which is forraine to him? And what more mad then that man, that admireth those things, which may immediately be transferred vnto another man? The golden raynes make not the horse the better. In one sort doth the golden crested Lion subiect himselfe whilst hee is handled, and is compelled (being ouer-wearied) patiently to receiue his orna­ments; in another sort such a one as is generous and vntamed. This being sharp in his assault, such as nature would haue him to be, faire in his dreadfulnesse, whose comlines is in this, not to be beheld without feare, is preferd before that faint and trapped one: no man ought to glorie but in that which is his owne. We praise the Vine if she loade her branches with fruit, if she beareth down her vnder-props vnto the ground, by reason of the waight of those branches shee beareth. Will any man preferre that Vine before this, that hath golden grapes and golden leaues hanging from it? The proper vertue in the Vine is fertilitie: in a man also that is to be praised which is his own. He hath a faire train, a good­ly house, he soweth much, he makes much by vsurie; none of these things is in him but about him. Praise that in him, which neyther may be taken away, nor giuen, which is properly a mans. Askest thou what it is? The minde, and per­fect reason in the minde. For man is a reasonable creature; his good therefore is consummate, if he hath fulfilled that to which he was borne. But what is that which this reason exacteth at his handes? An easie matter; to liue according to his nature: but common madnesse maketh this thing difficult. We thrust one another into vices, but how may they be recalled vnto health, whom no man restraineth, and the people thrusteth on.

EPIST. XLII.

That we are not suddenly to giue credite or iudgement of a good man, because it is a mat­ter of much moment. That some make shew, others dissemble; not vnlikely to prooue euill, if occasion be offered. He teacheth this by a certaine mans example. Then, that we are not to labour in externall things, which haue incommodities, or false commo­dities in them.

THis man hath alreadie perswaded thee, that he is a good man, and yet a good man may not so soone eyther be made or vnderstood: Knowest thou now whom I terme a good man? Him who is ordi­narily so reputed: for that other happily like another Phoenix is borne once in fiue hundreth yeares: neyther is it to be wondred at, that great and rare things are in long continuance and space of time begot­ten. [Page 231] Fortune often times produceth meane things, such are borne in troupes; but such things as are excellent she commendeth in their raritie. But this man as yet is very farre from that which he professeth; and if he knew what a good man were, he would not as yet beleeue himselfe to be one, and happily also hee would despaire that he might be one. But he thinketh ill of the euill, and this doe the euill also: neyther is there any greater punishment of wickednesse, then that it displeaseth both himselfe and his. But hee hateth those that impo­tently vse a sudden and great power: the same will hee doe when he can the same. Diuers mens vices lie hidden because they are weake, addressed notwith­standing to attempt, and dare as much as they whom felicitie hath discouered, as soone as they may haue any assurance of their forces. They want the instru­ments to expresse their malice. So may a venemous serpent likewise be safely handled whilst he is stiffe with cold, not that he wanteth his venom, but because they are benummed. The crueltie, ambition, and intemperance of diuers men would attempt as bad offices as the basest men, if fortune fayled them not, giue them onely the power as much as they list, thou shalt easily perceiue their will. Doest thou not remember, that when thou toldest me, that thou haddest such a man in thy power, that I answered thee, that he was vnconstant and variable, and that thou heldest him not by the foote but by the feather? Tolde I thee a lie? He was held by a feather, which he shaked off and fled. Thou knowest ve­rie well what Tragedies he afterwards excited, and how many things he at­tempted, which in all likelyhood at last were to fall on his owne head: he per­ceiued not how by other mens perils hee came headlong into his owne, hee thought not how burthensom the things were which he asked, although they were not superfluous. This therefore in those things which we affect, and for which we trauell; for with great labour we ought to obserue and looke into, ey­ther that there is no commoditie in them, or else more incommoditie. Some things are superfluous, some are not of so much esteeme; but these things wee foresee not, and those things that cost vs most dearely, seeme vnto vs to be gi­uen for nothing. Herein although our stupiditie be most apparant, that we on­ly thinke those things to be bought, for which we pay our money, and those things we call gratuitall, for which we sell and giue our selues; which we would not buy if it should cost vs one of our houses, if wee should redeeme the same with som fruitful and pleasant possession: to these are we most ready to attaine with much care, with perill, with hazard of our modesties, libertie, and time, so is there nothing more abiect and contemptible to euerie man then himselfe. Let vs therefore in all our counsailes and affaires doe that which we are wont to doe: as often as we goe to the Merchant of any ware to buy, let vs see and examine that which we desire, and know the price thereof. That often-times is highest prized for which no price is giuen. I can shew thee many things, which being gotten and possessed, haue extorted our liberty from vs: we should be our owne if these were not ours. Think [...] therefore very carefully vpon these things, not onely where there shall be question of gaine, but also of losse: is this perishable? for it was casuall; thou shalt as easily liue without this as thou li­uedst before. If thou hast had it long, thou lose [...] it after thou art glutted there­with: if but a little while, thou losest it before thou haddest the true taste and vse therefore. If thou haue lesse money, thy trouble shall be the lesse; if lesse fauour, thou shalt haue lesse enuie also. Looke into all these things which [...]n­rage vs, and which we lose with many teares [...] and thou shalt know that the opi­nion of the damage, and not the damage it selfe is troublesome vnto vs, no man [Page 232] feeleth but apprehendeth that these are lost. He that hath himselfe hath lost nothing; but how many haue had the hap to possesse themselues?

EPIST. XLIII.

That he doth, lies not hidden, but that rumour publisheth all things. Therefore so liue (saith he) as if thou liuedst in publique. What if thou be hid also? Thy minde know­eth and seeth.

THou desirest to know how these newes came to mine eares, who it was that tolde me that thy thought was thus, whereas thou haddest disclosed it to no man liuing: he that knoweth the most, rumor. What then (sayest thou) am I so great that I can excite a rumor? Thou art not to measure thy selfe in regard of this place where I bide, but respect thou that wherein thou liuest: whatsoeuer is e­minent amiddest the places neere vnto thee, is great in that place where it is e­minent. For greatnes hath no certaine measure; comparison eyther extinguish­eth or depresseth it. The Ship which is great in the Riuer, is little in the Sea: the helme that to one ship is great, to another is little. Now in that Prouince where thou liuest thou art great, although thou contemnethy selfe. It is both inquired of and knowne, both how thou suppest and how thou sleepest. So much the more oughtest thou to be more circumspect in thy carriage. Then iudge thy selfe happie when thou canst liue publiquely, when as thy roofe and walles may couer and not hide thee; which for the most part wee iudge to be builded about vs, not to the intent we may liue more safely, but to the end we may sinne more secretly. I will tell thee a thing by which thou mayest estimate our maners, thou shalt scarcely find any man that can liue with an open doore. Our conscience, and not our arrogance hath set a guard at our gates: so liue we that we esteeme a sudden espiall to be an actuall surprisall. But what pro [...]iteth it a man to hide himselfe, and to haue both the eyes and eares of men? A good conscience challengeth the whole world, an euill is alwayes doubtfull and care­full, yea euen in the desert. If thine actions be honest, let all men know them: if dishonest, what skilleth it if no man know them, so thou know them thy selfe? O wretch that thou art, if thou contemnest this witnesse.

EPIST. XLIIII.

An excellent Epistle. Let no man contemne himselfe for his basenesse of birth, if hee commeth vnto wisedome, that is, to vertue. This onely enobleth.

ONce againe thou playest the coward with me, and sayest that na­ture first; and after her, fortune haue beene contrarie and vnkind toward thee, whereas thou mayest exempt thy selfe from the common sort, and obtaine the most high felicitie that may be­fall men. If ought else be good in Philosophie, this is it, that it regardeth not Nobilitie or discent. If all men be reuoked to their first originall they are of the gods. Thou art a Romane Knight, and to this order thine indu­strie hath aduanced thee: but vndoubtedly there are diuers to whom the four­teene [Page 233] degrees are closed. The Court admitteth not all men. The Campe like­wise cannot without trouble, make choyse of those whom they entertaine for labour and trauell. A good spirit and intention is open to all men, to this we are all noble, neyther dooth Philosophie reiect or elect any man, but shi­neth vnto all. Socrates was no Patritian: Cleanthes drew water and imployed his handes in watering his Garden. Philosophie intertained Plato, not so thorowly noble as she made him. And what cause hast thou to despaire, but that thou mayest be like vnto these? All these were thine auncestors, if thou behauest thy selfe worthy of them [...] and so shalt thou behaue and carrie thy selfe, if thou incontinently perswade thy selfe that no man can out-strip thee in Nobilitie. There are before vs as many as we are, and the originall of all very farre surpas­seth our memorie. Plato saith that there is not any King that is not descended of a slaue, & that there is not any slaue which is not descended from Kings. All these things hath long varietie mingled together, and fortune hath turned top­sie-turuie: Who is therefore a Gentleman? He that is well composed by na­ture vnto vertue. This onely is to be expected, otherwise if thou recallest mee to antiquitie, no man is not but from thence, before which nothing is. From the first beginning of this world vnto this day, the line of alteration hath deri­ued vs from noble to villeinies. It maketh not a Noble-man to haue his Court full of smoakie Images: no man liued for our glorie, neyther is that which was before vs, ours. The minde maketh the Noble-man, which from how base condition soeuer, enobleth vs to rise aboue fortune. Thinke thy selfe there­fore that thou art no Roman Knight, but a libertine. Thou mayest attaine this, that thou alone mayest be free amongst libertines. But how sayest thou, if thou distinguish not good and euill by the peoples iudgements? We must regard, not whence they come, but whether they goe. For if there be any thing may make the life happie, it is absolutely good, because it may not be depraued or turned into euill: what is it then wherein we erre? In this, that all who affect a happy life, take the instruments thereof for the thing it selfe; and whilst they seeke the same, flie the same: for whereas solid securitie is the scope of a blessed life, and the vnshaken confidence thereof, they gather the causes of solicitude, and by a dangerous iourney they not only beare, but draw the burthens of life. Thus alwayes recoyle they farre from the effect of that they seek, and the more labour they imploy, the more are they intangled, and carried backward, which happeneth to those that haste them in a labyrinth, their very speed intangleth them.

EPIST. XLV.

That not many, but good bookes are necessarie to obtaine wisedome. That the ancient vainly wrote some things superfluous, some subtilly. Then against Cauillers and mi­staking of words. The matter, and the difference thereof is to be sought for. Who is blessed, and what is truely good?

THou complainest thee of the want of bookes in those parts where thou bidest. It skilleth not how many, but how good thou hast, a certain reading profiteth, & that which is full of varietie deligh­teth. He that will attaine to his predestinated scope, let him fol­low one way, and not wander in many, for this is not to go, but to erre. I had rather, sayest thou, that thou gauest me bookes, then counsell, and [Page 234] for mine owne part, I am readie to send thee wholly, if I haue, and to voide my whole store, and I would transport my selfe vnto those parts, if it were possible, and had I not a hope, that very shortly I should accomplish and set an end to thy endeuour, I had vndertaken the iorney in these mine old yeares, neither might Charibdis, Scylla, and this fabulous sea affright me. I had not onely sailed, but swomne ouer these seas, so as I might embrace thee, and being present with thee, estimated, how much thou wert encreased in thy courage. And whereas thou desirest, that my bookes should bee sent vnto thee, I esteeme my selfe no more eloquent, for that then I would account my selfe faire, if so be thou shoul­dest require my picture of me. I know that this proceedeth from thy goodwill towards mee, and not from thy iudgement, and that affection hath entangled and deceiued thee, and not thy iudgement. But whatsoeuer they be, see thou reade them in such sort, as if as yet thou sought the truth, but knew it not, but peremptorily sought it. For I haue not seuerely tied my selfe to any, I beare the name of no man, I ascribe much to the iudgement of great men, and chal­lenge something to my selfe. For they also le [...]t vs not things onely found by them, but also those which remaine to be found, and peraduenture they had found out things necessarie, had they not sought after the superfluous. The cauillation of words, and captious disputations, which exercise a vaine braine, stole much time from them. We weaue knots, and tie ambiguous signification to words, and then dissolue them. Haue we so much leasure? Know wee now how to liue, and how to die? Thither with all our mindes are we to addresse our selues, where prouision may be taken, that the things themselues may de­ceiue vs, and not the words. Why distinguishest thou vnto me the similitudes of words, wherewith no man is euer caught, but when he disputeth, the things themselues deceiue vs, discerne them: we embrace euill things in stead of good, we wish contrarie to that we haue wished, our vowes impugne our vowes, our counsels our counsels. How much doth flattery resemble friendship? It doth not onely imitate the same, but it ouercommeth and outstrippeth it: it is receiued with open and fauourable eares, and descendeth into the inward heart, gratious in that wherein it hurteth. Teach me how I may know this similitude. There comes vnto me, in stead of a friend, a flattering enemie. Vices creepe vpon vs vnder pretext of vertues; temeritie lies hidden vnder the name of fortitude: moderation is called sloth, a warie man is accounted fearefull. In those things we erre with great danger; imprint certaine notes on these to make them knowne. But he that is demanded whether he hath hornes, is not so foolish to rub his brow; neither againe so foolish and beetle-headed, that he is ignorant that he hath none of those hornes, which thou wouldest perswade him to haue by a subtill collection of arguments. But these deceiue without damage; in such manner as the boxes and lots of the Iuglers, in which the very deceit is a delight. Bring to passe that I may vnderstand how it is done, I haue lost the vse. The same say I of these cauellings, for by what more fit name can I call Sophismes? Neither hurt they the ignorant, neither helpe they the vnderstan­ding: verily if thou wilt take away all ambiguitie of words, teach vs this, that he is not blessed whom the common people tearmeth so, into whose bands great summes of money are gathered; but he, whose minde is all his goodnesse, who is erect, vpright, high minded, and a contemner of those things which other men wonder at, who seeth no man with whom he would exchange himselfe, which estimateth a man onely in that part wherein he is a man, who vseth Na­ture as his mistresse, and is composed according to her lawes, and so liueth as [Page 235] she prescribeth. From whom no force can rauish his good, who turneth euill into goodnesse, assured in his iudgement, vnshaken, vndaunted: whom some power moueth, but none perturbeth; whom Fortune, when with her greatest force, she hath darted the most dangerous dart she hath against him, pricketh, but woundeth not, and that very seldome. For all other weapons of hers, wher­with she warreth against mankind, are as the haile which falleth on the house­eues, it striketh on them, without any incommoditie to the inhabitants of the same, and maketh a noice, and is dissolued. Why detainest thou me in this, that thou callest thy selfe Pseudomenon, (that is to say, a lyer) of whom so many bookes haue beene written. Behold, all my life is but lying, reproue thou it, re­duce this to truth, if thou art so subtill. She iudgeth those things necessarie, the greater part whereof is superfluous, that likewise which is not superfluous, hath no moment in it selfe, in this that it may make a man fortunate or blessed. For if any thing be necessarie, it is not presently good. And wee prostitute good­nesse and abuse it, if wee attribute that name to bread and cakes, and such like things, without which life cannot be maintained. That which is truely good is necessarie, but that which is necessarie is not presently good, for some things are necessarie which are most abiect. There is no man that is so ignorant of the dignitie of goodnesse, which comparingly will abuse it with those things that haue their lasting but for a day. What then? Wilt thou not imploy thy study and care to make manifest vnto euery man, and let them see, that with great losse of time a man searcheth for superfluous and vnprofitable things; and that di­uers haue ouerpassed their life, in onely imploying themselues in seeking out the instruments of life. Looke into euery particular, and consider the whole, there is no mans life, but is aimed at to morrow. Thou askest me what euill there is herein? Infinite, for they liue not, but are to liue, they deferre all things. Although we were circumspect, yet life would outstrip vs, and now when wee are stayed, she commeth and ouergoeth vs, and is ended in the last day, and eue­ry day perisheth. But lest I should exceed the measure of an Epistle, which should not fill a mans left hand in reading. I will deferre this debate with the ouer-subtill Logitians till another time, who onely haue care of this, and not of that.

EPIST. XLVI.

He iudgeth of LVCILIVS his Booke, and praiseth it.

I Haue receiued the booke which thou promisedst me, and as if I should reade it ouer at leasure; I opened it, and had onely a will to taste it. But afterwards it so flattered and toled me on, that I thought fit to passe further, which how eloquent it is, thou mayst cōiecture by this, it seemed short vnto me, for that neither of thy time nor of mine, but at first sight it seemed to be either Titus Liuius, or Epicurus: but with so much sweetnesse it detained and allured me, that without all delay I ouer-read it. The Sunne inuited me, hunger admonished mee, the shower threatened me, yet did I reade it ouer, not so much delighted as glad­ded. And I would say vnto thee, what a wit hath this man? What a minde? What abilitie? If he had pawsed, if he had risen by degrees. Now hath it not beene vehemencie, but a continuate forme, and a composition masculine and [Page 236] holy, notwithstanding there was a mixture of sweetnesse and grace. Thou art great and vpright, this course I aduise thee to; so proceed thou. The matter also did somewhat, therefore is it to be chosen fruitfull, that may rauish a mans minde and excite him. I will write more of thy booke when I haue reexamined it; but as yet my iudgement is not setled. I seeme but as one that hath heard it, and not ouer-read it. Suffer me likewise to make inquisition. Thou needest not feare, thou shalt heare the truth. O happie man that thou art, that hast no­thing for which a man should lie vnto thee from so farre off: but that (euen where the cause is taken away) we lye for customes sake.

EPIST. XLVII.

That we ought to behaue our selues, and liue with our seruants familiarly. That the error of his age was, in their pride and contempt: yet that according to each mans dispo­sition and vertue, that the one and the other are either more freely or seuerely to bee handled.

I Haue willingly vnderstood by those that come from thee, that thou liuest familiarly with thy slaues: this becommeth thy pru­dence, this is answerable to thy wisdome. Are they thy slaues? nay rather thy companions. Are they thy slaues? nay rather thine humble friends. Are they thy slaues? nay rather thy fel­low seruants. If thou knowest that Fortune hath as much power ouer the one, as ouer the other. I therefore laugh at those that thinke it an abiect and base thing to sup with their seruants: and why? But for that their ouerweening cu­stome hath enuironed the supping Lord with a troope of attending seruants. Farre more eateth he, then he digesteth, and with an excessiue greedines loadeth [...]ee his distended belly, that with greater labour hee may vomit vp all those things, when with surfet he hath ingested them; but his vnhappy seruants haue scarce leaue to moue their lips, no not to this end, to speake. Each murmure is stilled by the rod, and scarce casuall things escape the whip, a cough, a sneese, a hicket; a great penaltie is threatned, if by any speech a renewed silence be inter­rupted: the liuelong night stand they fasting, and waite they mute. So com­meth it to passe, that these speake of their Lord, who in his presence haue no li­bertie to discourse. But they who had not onely libertie to speake before their Masters, but to conferre with them, whose mouth was not sewed vp, were readie to hazard their heads for their Masters, and turne their imminent perill on their owne neckes. At the banquets they spake, but in their torments they were silent. Furthermore, a prouerb of no lesse arrogancie is published, That as many seruants we haue, so many enemies. We haue them not our enemies, but we make them. In the meane space, I let passe many both cruell and inhu­mane things: that we abuse them not, as men only, but as beasts. That where­as we are set at supper, one wipeth away our spittings, and other crouching vn­der the table, gathereth the reliques of the drunkards: another cutteth vp the deerest fowle, and conueying his cunning [...]and thorow their breasts and hinder parts, in certaine conceits of caruing, cut them in peeces: vnhappy he that liueth to this one thing, to cut vp wilde fowle decently. But that he is more misera­ble, that for voluptuousnesse sake teacheth this, then he that learneth it for ne­cessitie. Another skinking the wine, attired after woman-like fashion, striueth [Page 237] with age: he cannot [...]lie child-hood, yet is hee drawne backe, and now sweete faced, his haires either shauen or pulled vp by the rootes, in his martiall habite attendeth and watcheth hee all night, which hee diuideth betwixt his Lords drunkennesse and lust, and in the chamber is a man, and at the banquet a boy. Another to whom the censure of the ghuests is permitted, attendeth vnhappie as he is, and expecteth those, whom flattery or the intemperance either of their mouthes or tongues reuoaketh the next day. Ad to these, the Caterers, who haue a certaine and subtill knowledge of their Lords best liking; who know the sauour of that meate, they hold best pleasing to their appetite, what most affe­cteth their eye, what meate will quicken their loathing stomackes, when hee loatheth in his fulnesse, what he longeth for that very day. With these he can­not abide to sup, and thinketh it a diminution of his maiestie, to sit down [...] at the same table with his seruant. God forbid that of those they should find their ma­sters. I saw Callistus master attend at his doore, and him excluded amongst many that entered, who had set him a seruile schedule on his brest to be sold, and had brought him forth to saile amongst his most ridiculous and abiect slaues. That very slaue of his did him fauour, who was by him set to saile amongst the most abiect first rancke, fruitlessely prostituted by the Crier, basely made vendible by the master, yea he himselfe thought him vnworthy of his house. The Lord sold Callistus: but how many things did Callistus sell to his master? Wilt thou thinke, that he whom thou termest thy slaue, was borne of the same seed, en­ioyeth the same aire, equally breatheth, liueth and dieth as thou shalt? Thou mayest see him as noble, as he thee seruile. How many men did Fortune de­presse in the Marian slaughter, of noble birth, and such as after being thrice Tri­bunes were in election to be Senators? One of those she made a shepheard, the other the keeper of a Cottage. Contemne not the man of that fortune; into which thou mayest be transferred, whilest thou contemnest. I will not intrude my selfe into a large field of discourse, and dispute of the vse of seruants, in re­spect of whom wee are most cruell, proud, and contumelious: yet is this the summe of my precept. So liue with thine inferiour, as thou wouldest thy supe­riour should liue with thee. As o [...]ten as thou bethinkest thy selfe what power thou hast ouer thy seruant, b [...]thinke thy s [...]lfe that so much power thy mast [...]r hath ouer thee. But I, sayest thou, haue no master, the better thy fortune, hap­pily thou shalt haue. Knowest thou not in what yeares Hecuba began to serue, in what time Cr [...]sus, in what time Darius mother, in what time Plat [...], in what time Diogenes? Liue with thy seruant kindly and court [...]ously, vouchsafe him conference, admit him to counsaile, and conuersation with thee. In this place the whole troope of these nice companions will crie out at me: There is no­thing more base, nothing more abiect then this is. These very same men will I finde kissing the hand of other mens slaues. See you not, that likewise how by this meanes our ancestors withdrew all enuie from the masters, all con [...]umely from the seruants? They called the master the father of the houshold, the ser­uants (which as yet continueth amongst the Mimicks) his familiars. They in­stituted a holy day, wherein not onely the masters feasted with their seruants, but wherein beside that, they permitted them to bear [...] honor in their house, and to giue sentence and iudgement, their house to be a little common-weale. What then? Shall I set all my seruants at my table? No more then all my chil­dren. Thou errest, if thou thinkest that I will reiect some of them [...] as destinated to a more seruile office, as that Muliter, and that Cow keeper, I will not mea­sure them by their offices, but by their manners. Each one giueth himselfe [Page 238] manners, casualtie assigneth him ministeries. Let some of them sup with thee, because they are worthy, some that they may be worthy. For if any thing bee seruile in them by reason of their sordid cōuersation, their liuing & conuersing with those that are better nurtured will shake it off. Thou art not, my Lucilius, onely to seeke thy friend in the Market-place, and in the Court, if thou diligent­ly attend, thou shalt finde him in thy house also. Oftentimes a good matter cea­seth without the work-man; trie and make experiment. Euen as he is a foole, who hauing a horse to buy, looketh not on him, but on his furniture and bit; so is he most fond, that esteemeth a man, either by his garment, or by his con­dition, which is wrapped about vs after the manner of a garment. Is hee a ser­uant? But happily a free man in minde. Is he a seruant? Shall this hurt him? Shew one that is not. One serueth his lust, another his auarice, another ambi­tion, another feare. I will shew you a man that hath beene Consul, seruing an old woman. I will let yov see a rich man seruing a poore maid: I will shew you the noblest yong men, the very bond-slaues of Players. There is no seruitude more foule, then that which is voluntarie. For which cause, thou hast no rea­son that these disdainfull fellowes should deterre thee from shewing thy selfe affable to thy seruants, and not proudly superiour. Let them rather honour thee, then feare thee. Will any man say that I call seruants to libertie, and cast downe masters from their dignitie, in that I say they should rather honor their master then feare him? Is it so, saith he, shall they wholly honor thee as clients and sauiours? He that saith thus, forgetteth that that is very small to masters, which is enough for God, who is worshipped and loued. Loue cannot be ming­led with feare. I therefore thinke, that thou doest most vprightly; if thou wilt not be feared by thy [...]eruants, that thou vsest the chastisement of words. Such as are dumbe are admonished by stripes: euery thing that offendeth vs, hurteth vs not. But daintinesse compelleth vs to outrage, so that whatsoeuer is not an­swerable to our will, prouoketh vs to wrath. Wee put vpon vs the mindes of Kings, for they also forgetfull of their own strength, and other mens imbecilitie are so incensed, so wrathfull, as if they had receiued an iniurie, from the perill of which thing, the greatnesse of their fortune secureth them most; neither are they ignorant hereof, but they take occasion of hurting by seeking it; they re­ceiued an iniurie, that they might doe wrong. I will not detaine thee longer, for thou hast no need of exhortation. Good manners haue this amongst other things, they ple [...]se themselues and remaine. Malice is light, and is often chan­ged, not to the better, but to another thing.

EPIST. XLVIII.

That the same things are expedient for friends, and that the one is profitable to the other. Then against captious cauils and difficult follies. What doe you? What play you? The question is of life. Assist and forme it. Of fortune. Against her giue defence.

TO that Epistle of thine, which thou sendest to me in my iourney, so long as the very iourney it selfe was, I will make answer. I must recreat my selfe, and looke about me what I counsaile. For thou also who counsellest me, diddest bethinke thee long, whether thou shouldest counsaile; how much more ought I to doe the like, wheras a longer respite is requisit to dissolue and answer thee, to propound [Page 239] the question: verily one course is expedient for thee, another for me: once more speake I like Epicurus. But to me the same is expedient that to thee, else am I not thy friend, except whatsoeuer is done that concerneth thee, be mine. Friendship maketh a mutuall interchange of all things betweene vs, neyther hath any one of vs in particular a felicitie or aduersitie, but they are communi­cable to both. Neyther can any man liue happily who onely respecteth him­selfe, that conuerteth all things to his own pro [...]its: thou must liue vnto another, if thou wilt liue vnto thy selfe. This societie both diligently and holily is to be obserued [...] which mixeth all of vs together, and iudgeth that there is some one common right of humane race. It auayleth very much also to perfite that inte­rior societie of friendship, of which I spake. For he shall haue all things in com­mon with his friend, that hath many things common with man. This would I haue taught me, O Lucilius, the best of men, by those subtill Sophisters, what I ought to performe vnto my friend, what vnto a man: then after how many manners a friend may be called, and how many this word man signifieth. Be­hold wisedome, and folly are separated diuersly, to which doe I incline? to which part willest thou me to goe? To this Stoicke a man is a friend, to that Epicure a friend is not for a man: he getteth a friend for himselfe, this other himselfe for a friend. Thou wrestest my wordes, and distinguishest syllables. Verily except I compose idle Interrogations, and by a false conclusion deriued from truth, I vnite a lie, I cannot distinguish those things that are to be desired from such as are to be eschued. I am ashamed. In so serious a thing as this is, though olde, yet we trifle. Mouse is a syllable [...] but Mouse gnaweth the Cheese, Ergo, a syllable gnaweth the Cheese. Thinke now that I cannot resolue this doubt, what damage should this ignorance of mine doe me? What discommo­ditie? Doubtlesse it is to be feared, lest at sometimes I should catch the syllables in my Mous-trap, or that happily if I should becom negligent, my Book should eate the Cheese: vnlesse happily that collection is more acute; Mouse is a syl­lable, but the syllable gnaweth not the Cheese; the Mouse therefore gnaweth not the Cheese. O childish triflings. For this cause haue wee humbled our browes? For this cause haue we lengthened our beards? Is it this wee teach both sad and pale? Wilt thou know what Philosophie promiseth to humane kinde? It is counsaile. One man death calleth, another pouertie burneth, ano­ther man eyther his owne or other mens riches torment; this man is affraide and terrified at euill fortune, that man would withdraw himselfe, and escape his felicitie, this man disliketh men, that man the goddes: Why propo­sest thou vnto me these toyes? There is no place of jesting; the miserable cra [...]e thy assistance. Thou hast promised that thou wilt help such as are ship-wrackt, captiue, poore, such as subiect their heads to axe and block: whether art thou diuerted? what doest thou? The very man with whom thou jestest is affraide. Yeeld succours, whatsoeuer thou art more indued with eloquence, to the paines of such as perish. All of them, on euery side lift vp their handes vnto thee, and implore som help in their perished and decaying life, in thee is the hope, in thee the meanes. They beseech thee to draw them out of so great turmoyle, that thou wouldest shew them that are scattered and wandring the cl [...]ere light of truth. Shew what nature hath made necessarie, what superfluous, what easie lawes she hath established: how pleasant and expedite the life of those men is that follow them, how bitter and implicite theirs is, that haue beleeued opinion more then truth. What extinguisheth these mens desires? What temperateth them? Would to God they did but onely not profit. They hurt. This will I [Page 240] make manifest vnto thee when thou wilt, that a generous spirit is broken and weakned, being puzled with these subtilties. I am ashamed to tel, what weapons it lendeth to those, that are to warre against fortune, and how they suborne them. This is the way to the chiefest good, by this Philosophicall exceptions are blacke, filthy, and infamous, yea euen to those that are young Students: for what else doe you, when as wittingly you entangle him whom you aske, then that he might seeme to be non-suited: but euen as the Pretor wholly restoreth the one, so doth Philosophie these. Why faile you in your great promises? and hauing promised mount [...]ines, that you will bring to passe that the shining and brightnesse of gold shall no more dazle mine eyes, then that of the sword: that with great constancie I should contemne and spurn at, both that which all men wish, and that which all men feare, descend you to the elements of the Gram­marian? What say you, is this the way to eternitie? For this is it that Philo­sophie promiseth me, to make me like to God. To this I am inuited, to this end I came, performe thy promise. As much as thou mayest therefore my Lucilius, reduce thy selfe from these exceptions and prescriptions of the Philosophers. Open and simple things become honestie and goodnesse. Although a better part of life were yet to be spent, yet must it now be sparingly dispensed, that it may suffice for necessaries; now what madnesse is it to learne such vnnecessa­rie things in so great scantling of time?

EPIST. XLIX.

That by the sight of a house called POMPEY the memorie of his LVCILIVS was re­newed in him. Of the shortnesse and swiftnesse of time, that nothing is long or olde in it. By the way against the Logicians, and that all that sort are onely to be looked on.

HEe truly my Lucilius, is idle and negligent, who admonished from any Region is reduced to the memorie of his friend; yet some­times familiar places summon and call forth the reposed desire in our minde, neyther suffer they the memorie to be extinguished, but prouoke the same when it is pacified, euen as the griefe of those that mourne, although for a time it be mitigated, eyther the familier ad­mission of a seruant, or a garment, or the house reneweth the same. Behold how Campania, and in especial Naples, in the beholding of thy Pompeis it is incre­dible how liuing a memorie of thee it bred in me. Thou art wholly before mine eyes, euen then when I am most separated from thee. I see thee supping vp thy tears, and insufficiently resisting thy affections, breaking forth in their restraint. And now seem I to haue lost thee; for what is not present, if thou remembrest? Not long since I conuersed being a child, with Sotion the Philosopher; anon after I began to pleade causes; not long after I desisted from being willing to wrangle in them: now giue I ouer to haue power to follow them. Infinite is the swiftnesse of time, which appeareth most to those that looke backe: for to those that intend the present, it deceiueth them, so light is the passage of her h [...]adlong flight. Doest thou demaund the cause hereof? Whatsoeuer time is past is in the same place, it is beheld at once, and at once is extinguished, and all things from thence fall into the depth, & otherwise there cannot be long spaces in that thing which is wholly shor [...]. It is but a point that we liue, and as yet lesse then a point; yet nature hath diuided this least vnder a certaine kinde of [Page 241] longer space. Of this point he made one part infancie, another childe-hood, an other youth, another a certaine inclination from youth to age, another age it selfe. In how small a straight hath he placed so many degrees? Euen presently doe [...] I prosecute thee, and yet this present is a good portion of our age; whose shortnesse let vs thinke on, will at last shew it selfe. The time was not wont to seeme so swift vnto me: now doth the course thereof appeare incredible, eyther because I perceiue the end at hand, eyther because I haue begunne to conceiue and summe vp my losse. And the more am I vexed, because I see some lauish the greater part of this time in vanities, which scarcely can suffice for necessaries, although it were kept very diligently. Cicero denieth that if his age were doub­led, he should haue time enough to reade the Liriques; and in like sort the Lo­gicians. They are bitterly foolish. These play the professed wantons: they thinke that they doe somewhat. Neyther denie I but these may be looked into, but that they are onely to be looked into, and slightly ouer-past, to this only in­tent, lest we should be deceiued, & that we should iudge that there is som great and secret good in th [...]m. Why doest thou torment and macerate thy selfe about that question, which is more policie to contemne then satisfie? It is the worke of a secure man, and such a one as erreth from his profite to make search after trifles. When the enemie is hard at our heels, and the souldier is commanded to martch, necessity shaketh off all that which idle peace had recollected. I haue no leisure to affect these equiuocating words, and make tryall of my craft in them.

Behold what armies martch, what walls,
What warre with clo [...]sed gates.

This noyse of warre sounding on euery side, is to be heard by me with a migh­tie courage. I should worthily be accounted mad in all mens eyes [...] of when as both olde men and women gathered and brought stones to fortifie the Ram­pire, when as the young men being armed within the gates, expected or requi­red a s [...]mmons to sally, when the enemies armes were at the ports, and the very ground did shake with mines, if I should sit idle and employ my time in such like questions. That which thou hast not lost thou hast; thou hast not lost thy hornes, Ergo, thou hast hornes, and such like, fashioned according to the tenor of this acute madnesse. And no lesse foolish should I seeme vnto thee, if I should imploy my studies in these, wheras euen now I am beleagred [...] yet then a forrain perill should threaten me being besieged, the wall should seuer me from mine enemie. Now death and danger is with me. Now haue I time for these toyes. There is a waightie businesse in hand. What shall I doe? Death followeth me, life flieth. Teach me somewhat against these, bring to passe that I may not flie death and that life may not fli [...] me. Teach me equanimitie against disasters, and distresse against ineuitable harmes, giue libertie to the straightnesse of my time. Teach me that the good of life consist [...]th not in the space thereof, but in the vse; and that it may be, yea, that it often falleth out, that he who hath liued lon­gest hath liued a little or nothing. Tell me when I lie downe to rest [...] it may be thou shalt not wake. Tell me when I am awake, it may be thou shalt not sleepe any more. Tell me when I goe forth of doores it may be thou canst not return: Tell me when I returne, it may b [...] thou canst not goe out againe. Tho [...] art de­ceiued, if thou thinkest that in sayling only, that there is but the least difference and separation twixt life and death [...] in euery place there is as little distance. Eue­ry where death shews not himselfe so nigh, yet euery wher [...] is he as nigh. Shake [Page 242] off these cloudes, and thou shalt more easily discouer those things, to which I am prepared. Nature bred vs docible, and gaue vs imperfect reason, yet such as may be perfected. Dispute with me of Iustice & pietie, of frugalitie, of both sorts of modestie, and of that that can abstaine from anothers bodie, and this that hath care of his owne: if thou wilt not leade me the indirect way, I shall more easily attaine to that I affect. For as that tragicke Poet saith, The speech of truth is simple: and therfore we must not implicate the same: for nothing is lesse con­uenient then is this subtil craft, to those minds that labour after great mattters.

EPIST. L.

That we are blinde in vices, or that we seeke a cloake for them. Yet that they are to be acknowledged, and that the remedies are to be sought for; whence otherwise is the health of the minde deriued, which may likewise happen, euen to the most inueterate vices, because he is easie to be bent, and Nature flieth vnto goodnesse.

I Receiued the Epistle which thou sentest me after many months. I thought it therefore an idle thing to enquire of him that brought the same, what thou diddest. For it is a signe of a good memorie, if he remembreth, and yet hope I that for the present thou liuest so, that wheresoeuer thou art, I know what thou diddest. For what other thing shouldest thou doe, then that daily thou shouldest better thy selfe, that thou shouldest lay aside some one of thine errors, that thou mayest vnder­stand that they are thine owne follies, that thou thinkest to be forraine. Some things ascribe we to places and times, but they, whither soeuer wee transport our selues, will follow vs. Thou knowest, Harpaste, my wiues foole, thou knowest that she remained in my house as an hereditarie burthen. For I am much distasted and disgusted with those prodigi [...]s, if at any time I wil take plea­sure in a foole. I neede not seeke farre off, I finde sufficient matter of laugh­ter in my selfe. This foole suddenly lost her eye-sight. I tell thee an incredible matter, but yet true: she knoweth not that she is blinde; oftentimes she pray­eth her gouernour to giue her leaue to walke abroad, shee saith the house is darke. This that seemeth ridiculous vnto vs in her, take thou notice, that it happeneth vnto vs all: no man vnderstandeth that he is couetous, no man that he is auaritious; yet doe the blinde seeke a guide, but wee erre without a guide, and say: I am not ambitious, but no man can otherwise liue in Rome. I am not sumptuous, but the Citie it selfe requireth great expence. It is not my fault that I am wrathfull, that as yet I haue not setled my selfe in a certaine course of life; it is youth that causeth this: Why deceiue we our s [...]lues? our euill is not extrinsecall, it is within vs, and is setled in our intrailes. And therefore doe we hardly recouer health, because we know not that we are sicke; if wee haue but begunne our cure, when shall we shake off so many plagues and sicknesses? But now scarce seeke we for the Physitian, who should spend lesse time and labour, if he were counselled vpon the beginning of the disease. Tender and rude minds would follow him, directing them aright. No man is hardly reduced vn­to Nature, but he that hath reuolted from her. Wee are ashamed to learne a good mind, yet vndoubtedly it is a shameful thing to seeke a master in this mat­ter. That is to be dispaired, that so much good may casually befall vs: we must take paines, and (to speake vprightly) the labour is not great: if, as I said, we be­gin to conforme and recorrect our mindes, before they be confirmed in wicked­nesse. [Page 243] Yet despaire I not of those that are indurate. There is nothing that in­dustrious labour and intent, and diligent care cannot compasse and impugne. Thou mayest straighten the stiffest oakes, although crooked; heate straightneth crooked beames, and such as are otherwise fashioned by Nature, are applied to that which our vse exacteth. How farre more easily [...]oth the minde receiue a forme, being flexible and pliant to any humour. For what other thing is the mind, then after a certaine manner a spirit. But you see that a spirit is by so much more facile then any other matter, by how much he is more thinne and deli­cate. That, my Lucilius, hath no reason to hinder thee from hoping well of vs, because malice already hath hold of vs, that of long time it hath harboured with vs. To no man comes a good minde before an euill. We are all preoccupated in learning vertues, and forgetting vices: but therefore the more ardently must we endeuour our amendment, because the possession of a good once imparted to vs, is perpetuall; vertue is not forgotten. For the contrarie euils haue a for­raine dependance, and therefore may be expelled and excluded, they are surely setled that succeed in their place. Vertue is according to Nature, vices are our e­nemies and infectors. But euen as receiued vertues cannot easily be dispossessed, and their conseruation is easie: so is the beginning to obtaine and aime at them very difficult, because this especially is the signe of a weake and sicke mind, to feare things vnattempted. Therefore is the minde to be enforced, that it may begin: moreouer the medicine is not bitter, for it quickely delighteth, while it healeth. Of other remedies, there is a certaine pleasure after health: Philoso­phie is both wholesome and pleasing.

EPIST. LI.

Somewhat of Etna, and more of Baiae. And vpon this occasion hee inueyeth against such as are effeminated, and giuen ouer to their pleasure. That this is to be driuen from vs, and that we are to warfare: against whom? against Pleasure, Paine, and others. That he who doth so, doth good in serious and holy places, auoideth lasciui­ous things, or such as are too delightfull.

EVen as euery one can, my Lucilius, thou hast there Etna that noble Mountaine of Sicily, the which Messala called the only Moun­taine, or Valgius (for in both of them haue I read thereof) why I finde not, when as many places vomit out fire, not only such as are high, which oftentimes happeneth, because that fire moun­teth vpwards, but also such as are low. We, howsoeuer we may, are content with Baye, which the very next day after I had visited, I forsooke; a place for this cause to be auoided, although that hath certaine naturall endowments, because superfluitie hath made choice thereof her selfe, to celebrate the same. What then? Is there any place to be hated? No, but euen as some garment is more decent and comely for a wise and good man, then another; neither hateth hee any colour, but thinketh one more fit for him that professeth frugalitie: so is there a region, which a wise man, or one that tendeth to wisdome, declineth, as if estranged from good manners. Thinking therefore of his retirement, hee will neuer make choice of Canopus, although Canopus hinder no man from being fru­gall. Neither Baias likewise; they are begun to be the hostrie of vices. There Luxurie permitteth her selfe very much, there as if a certaine libertie were due [Page 244] vnto the place that hath loosenesse. It behoueth vs to chuse a place, not onely healthfull for our bodies, but for our manners. Euen as I would not dwell a­mongst hangmen and torturers, so would I not liue amongst victualing-houses. What needeth it to see drunkards reeling vp and downe the shore, and the ban­quets of such as saile, and the Lakes reeccoing the Consent of songs, and other things, which lasciuiousnesse (as if freed from all restraint) not onely sinneth in, but publisheth? That ought we to doe, that we flie farre from the prouocati­ons of vices. The mind is to be confirmed, and abstracted farre from the allure­ment of pleasures. One onely Winter weakened Hannibal, and the delicacies of Campania weakned that man, whom neither Snowes nor Alpes could other­wise vanquish: he conquered in armes, he was conquered by vices. Wee must likewise play the souldiers, and in such a kind of seruice as neuer affordeth vs rest, or euer giueth vs leasure. Vices in especiall are to be conquered, which (as you see) haue drawne the sternest and cruellest wits vnto them. If a man propose vnto him selfe, what a taske he hath vndergone, he shall know that nothing is to be done delicately or effeminately. What haue I to doe with those hot pooles, with those stoues in which a drie vapour is included to waste our bo­dies? Let all swet breake forth by labour: if wee should doe as Hannibal did, that interrupting the course of affaires, and neglecting warre, wee should em­ploy our selues in nourishing our bodies, there is no man but might iustly repre­hend our vnseasonable sloth, not onely dangerous for the conquerour, but for the conquered also? Lesse is permitted vs, then those that followed the Cartha­ginian warres, more danger impendeth ouer our heads, if we giue way, worse also if wee perseuere. Fortune wageth warre with mee, I will not obey her, I receiue not her yoake, nay more, (which with greater courage I ought to ac­complish) I shake it off. The minde is not to be mollified. If I giue place to plea­sure, I must be subiect to griefe, slaue to labour, seruant to pouertie; both am­bition and wrath will haue the same priuiledge ouer me: amongst so many vi­ces I shall be distracted, or rather dismembred. Libertie is proposed: for this reward doe we labour. Thou askest me what libertie is? To serue nothing, no necessitie, no fortunes; to keepe Fortune at staffes-end. That day I vnderstand my selfe, that I can more then she may; she can nothing. Shall I suffer her when as death is at hand? To him that intendeth these thoughts, retirement both se­rious and sanctified, ought to be sought for and chosen. Too much pleasantnes effeminateth the minde, and vndoubtedly the contrary may doe somewhat to corrupt the vigor. Those cattell easily trauell in any way, whose hoofes are hardned on the craggie wayes: such as breed in the rotten and soggie pastures, are quickly wearied. The souldier exercised on the mountaines, returneth more hardie, the citizen and home-bred is recreant. Those hands refuse no la­bour that are transferred from the plough to the pike. The anointed and nice souldier endureth not the first shock. The seuerer discipline of the place fir­meth the courage, and maketh it more apt to attempts. Scipio was more ho­nestly a banished man at Liternum then at Bayas. His ruine is not to be planted in so effeminate a place. And they also to whom at first, and in especiall the for­tune of the Roman people translated the publike Riches, Caius Marius, Cneius Pompey, and Caesar builded certaine Manor-houses in the region of Bayas, but they planted them on the tops of the highest mountaines. This seemed more warlike, from an eminent place to behold the low countrie farre and neere. Be­hold what situation they chose, in what places, and what they builded; & thou shalt know that they were in camping places, and not in houses of pleasure. [Page 245] Thinkest thou Cato would euer dwell in Vtica, to the end he might number the adulterers that saild by him, and to behold so many kinds of boats painted with diuers colours, and the roses s]floating ouer the whole lake, that he might heare the night-brawles of such as sing? Had he not rather beene within his Trench, which in one nights space he had digged, & caused to be inclosed, why should it not better please him? Whosoeuer is a man had rather be awakened from sleep by the Trumpet, then a melodie or consent of voyces. But long enough haue we contended about Baias, but neuer enough with vices, which I beseech thee my Lucilius, persecute beyond measure, and without end; for neyther haue they end or measure. Cast from thee whatsoeuer tormenteth thy heart, which if they could not be drawn out otherwise, thy heart were to be pulled out with them. Especially driue from thee pleasures, and hold them in greatest hatred, af­ter the manner of those theeues whom the Egyptians call Philetae; to this end they kisse vs, that they may kill vs.

EPIST. LII.

That we are vncertaine in the truth, and haue neede of helpe and direction. But that some are more easily guided and formed; then other some according to their nature. But to the intent that thou mayest be formed, make thy choyce out of the ancient, and the present. Yet flie pratlers, ambitious, and such as affect applause.

WHat is this Lucilius, that, when we intend one way, draweth vs an­other, and forceth vs thither, from whence we desire to flie? What is that which wrastleth with our minde, and permitteth vs not to will any thing once? We wauer twixt diuers counsailes, we will nothing freely, nothing absolutely, nothing alwayes. It is a folly (sayest thou) he that is constant in nothing, is not long pleased with any thing. But how, or when shall we withdraw our selues from these? No man is able to accomplish it of him selfe; some man must lend a helping hand, some one must bring vs out. Some, saith Epicurus, contend vnto truth without any mans helpe, of these, that he made himselfe his owne way. These prayseth hee most: that had power of themselues, that aduanced themselues: that some want forraigne [...]elpe, and are not like to goe, except some one conduct them, yet are willing to follow. Of this sort he accounteth Me [...]rodorus. And this also is an excellent, but a wit of the second rancke. We are not of the first number, it sufficeth vs if we be receiued into this secone rancke: neyther contemne thou that man that may be saued by another mans meanes; for it is a very great matter to haue a will to be saued. Besides these, as yet thou shalt finde another sort of men, and they not to be contemned, namely, they that may bee enforced and compelled to the right, who haue not onely neede of a guide but a helper, or to speake more pro­perly, a compeller. This is the third kinde. If thou seeke an example here­of; Epicurus saith that Hermachus was such a one, therefore gratulateth hee more the one, and admireth the other. For although both of them ob­tayned one and the same end, yet the praise is greater, to haue perfor­med the same in a more difficult matter. Suppose that a man hath builded two houses, both equall, a like high and magnificent, the one of them planted on a firme foundation, whereon the worke is suddenly raised, the other on an vncer­taine and fals ground, where we ought to digge deep, and imploy infinite pains [Page 246] before wee light on firme land. In the one all appeareth in sight, that hath beene builded: in the other the better and more dificult part is hidden. Some wits are facile and expedite, some are (as they say) to be fashioned by the hand, and to be exercised and occupied in making their owne foundation: therefore account I him more happie, that hath had no businesse with himselfe, and him likewise to haue deserued best of himselfe, that hath ouercome the malignitie of his nature, and hath not ledde him selfe, but forcibly drawn himselfe to wise­dome. Thou must know that this hard and troublesome trauell is forced on vs. We trauell a way full of dangers: let vs therefore combate & call for assistance. Whom sayest thou shall I call vpon, that or this man? For thine owne part, I counsaile thee to returne vnto the first, that haue now no more to doe: for not onely they of this time, but those that haue beene our predecessors may assist vs. And amongst those that liue, let vs chuse, not them that diuide and precipi­tate many wordes with great volubilitie, and turne ouer common places, and that in priuate are most courted: but those whose liues are our instructions, who when they haue told vs what is to be done, approue the same by their a­ctions who teach that which is to be eschued, and are neuer surprised or found guiltie in doing that, which they haue forbidden to be done. Choose him for thine assistant, whom thou admirest more when thou seest him, then when thou hearest him: neyther therefore forbid I thee to heare them likewise, whose cu­stom it is to admit the people, and to dispute, if so be they expose themselues to community to this intent, that they may amend themselues & make others the better, prouided they exercise not this for ambition sake. For what is more base then Philosophie, that searcheth the fauours and acclamations of the people? Doth the sicke man praise the Phisitian that launceth him? Be silent, fauour and offer your selues to the cure. Although you yeeld me acclamations of honor, I will not otherwise heare you, except you sigh at the touch of your sinnes. Wil you haue it testified, that you are attentiue, and are moued with the greatnesse of things? You haue free libertie; why should I not permit you to iudge, and giue your voyce to that which you thinke best? Vnder Pythagoras, his schollars remained fiue yeares without speaking: thinkest thou that it was lawfull for them incontinently to speake and praise? But how great is his folly, whom the applauses of the ignorant dismisse with ioyf [...]lnesse out of the auditorie? Why art thou glad, because thou art praised by those men, whom thou thy selfe canst not praise? Fabianus declaymed before the people, but he was heard with mo­destie. Sometime a great acclamation was raised of those that praised him; but such as the greatnesse of the things prouoked, and not the sound of a discourse smoothed & fluent. There is som difference betwixt the applause of a Theatre, and of the Schooles. There is some libertie also in praysing. There are alwayes some markes and signes of those things that are discouered. And a man may likewise gather an argument of anothers manners, euen in the slightest things. The gate, the carriage of the hand, and sometimes one onely answer, or the fin­ger dallying with the head, or the bent of the eye discouereth the impudencie of a man. A man knoweth a wicked man by his laughter, and a mad man by his countenance and habite. For th [...]se things are outwardly shewed by certaine signes. Thou shalt know what euery one is [...] if thou consider how he is praised. On euery side the auditor applaudeth the Philosopher with his clapping, and all this troupe that admireth him, sitteth aboue his head; now is not this man praised, if thou vnderstandest it, but whooted at. Let these applauses be reserued to those artes that haue a purpose to please the people, let Philosophie be ado­red. [Page 247] A man may giue sometimes leaue to young men to vse this heate of spirit, but they will doe this out of violence, when they cannot command themselues silence. This manner of praise serueth sometimes for some exhortation to the auditors, and animateth the mindes of young men. But better were it they should be moued with matter, then with painted wordes. Otherwise eloquence would but endanger them, if it should rather procure a desire of it selfe then of matter. I will speake no more for the present: for it desireth a proper and long discourse and execution, to know how a matter is to be handled before the people, what is permitted him by them, what them by him. It is not to be doubted, but that Philosophie hath lost much after it is prostituted, but she may be shewed in her most retired abode, if one day she finde not a Merchant banckier, but some honest Prelate.

EPIST. LIII.

He describeth his Nauigation and tossing on the Seas, by occasion that we are tossed in our liues, but that very few know and confesse their owne [...]aults. Philosophie will teach and excite. Let vs giue our selues vnto it, she will make vs equall with God.

WHat cannot I be perswaded vnto, who haue beene perswaded to saile? I set saile in a calme Sea, yet vndoubtedly the skie was o­uer-charged with darke cloudes, which for the most part eyther are resolued into water, or into winde. But I thought that so few miles betwixt thy Parthenope to Puteoli might easily and quickly be cut ouer, although the skie were doubtfull and dangerous. To the end ther­fore that I might more swiftly finish my iourny, I put out forthwith to sea, and shaped my course for Nesida, without bearing by the creeks: when I had passed so farre already, that I cared not whether I went forward or returned; first, that equalitie of heauen that perswaded me to saile, was ouer-blowne; as yet it was no tempest, yet begun the Sea to rise, and the surges to swell and beate one ano­ther. Then began I to require the Master to set me on some shoare. But he told me, that the shoars of the sea were dangerous, and vnfit to land at, and that he feared nothing more in a tempest then to beare vp for land, yet was I so tor­mented that I remembred not my selfe of any danger: for a certaine languish­ing desire to vomit, that prouoked but preuailed me nothing in emptying my stomacke: it pained me infinitely, which stirred but voyded not choller. I there­fore importuned the Master so, that will he nill he, I compelled him to beare for the shoare; whereto when we somewhat neered, I expect not to do any thing that Virgil commandeth, that the Prow of the Ship should be turned towards the Sea, or that the Anchor should be let slip into the Sea; but remembring my selfe of that I was accustomed to doe, I cast my selfe into the water, couered in a Veluet mantle, as they are wont who wash themselues in colde water. What thinkst thou I suffered, whilst I striue to escape these perrils, whilst I seek, whilst I make a way thorow these dangers? I know well, not without cause, that Mar­riners feared the land. They are incredible things that I suffered, considering that I could not support my selfe. Learne this of me, that the Sea was not so incensed at the birth of Vlysses, that it should cause ship-wracke in all places. He vomited easily. For mine owne part I had rather remaine twenty yeare [...] vpon my way, then passe by Sea to any place. As soone as I had recouered my sto­macke [Page 248] (for thou knowest well that in leauing the Sea a man loseth not his de­sire to vomit) and for my recreation had annoynted my bodi [...], I began to be­thinke my selfe, how great forgetfulnesse of our sinnes followed vs, not onely of vices, which because they are more great, keepe themselues hidden, but also of the vices of the bodie, which at all times draw vs into remembrance of them. A light alteration may well deceiue some one man; but when it is augmented and groweth to be a burning feuer, it causeth the most strong and endurate per­force to confesse the same. Our feet greeue vs, the ioynts feele some little shoo­tings; we dissemble as yet, and say that it is some straine, or that we haue freed our selues too much in doing some exercise. We are much troubled what to call our infirmitie, which is not as yet knowne, but when it beginneth to swell vp our anckles, we are enforced to say it is the goute. It falleth out farre other­wise in regard of those sickenesses which seize our soules. For the more that a­nie, one is sick, the lesse sensible is he of the same. Thou must not wonder deere Lucilius hereat: for he that slumbreth slightly, and dreameth in some sort du­ring his repose: sometimes in his sleeping thinketh that he sleepeth; but a pro­found sleepe extingu [...]sheth dreames also, and drowneth the mind more deeply, then that it permitteth the same to make vse of any her intellectiue faculties. Why doth no man confesse his faults? Because he is as yet plunged in the same. It is the part of one that is a wake to shew his dreame, and it is a signe of amends for a man to confesse his faults. Let vs awake therefore, to the end wee may blame and correct our errours. But onely Philosophie must quicken vs, she only must shake o [...]f our heauie sleepe. To her onely dedicat [...] thy selfe, thou art wor­thy of her & she worthy of thee, embrace and lusten on another, denie thy selfe constantly and openly to all other things. Thou canst not Philosophie without taking some paynes: if thou wert sicke thou wouldest giue ouer the care of thy whole family, and neglect thy forraine businesse; there is no friend so deere vn­to thee, whose cause thou wouldest desire to pleade. All thy care and cost should be to recouer thy health speedily. What then, wilt thou not now doe the like? Lay aside all impedim [...]nts, and thinke on nothing, but how to make thy soule more perfect, no man commeth vnto her that is occupied or distracted. Philosophie vseth soueraigne power as a King, she giueth time, and taketh it not: she is no secondarie care, but will be serued seriously; she is a Mistresse; she is present and commandeth. Alexander to whom a Citie promised to giue a part of their lands, and the halfe of all their goods: I am come, saith he, into A­sia with this resolution, not to take that which you will giue me, but that you should enioy nothing else, but what I leaue you. Philosophie vseth the like au­thoritie in all things. I will not, saith shee, accept that time that you haue to come, or haue reserued contrariwise: you shall haue none, but which I will giue you. Addresse thy whole minde vnto her, be alwayes neere vnto her, giue her all the honour thou canst; there will be a great difference betwixt thee and o­thers. Thou shalt farre exceed all mortall men, and the gods shall but very lit­tle surpasse thee. Wilt thou know what difference there is betwixt them and thee? They shall continue more long. But truely it is the honour of a good worke-man to finish his taske speedily. A wise-man is as content with the space of his life, This accord [...]n [...] to [...]he proude d [...] ­ctrine o [...] Sto [...]ks [...] [...]. as God is of all the time of his eternitie. Some thing there is wherein a wise-man exceedeth God; God is not wise but by the goodnesse of his na­ture, and the wise-man is by his owne. It is a maruellous thing to haue the frail­tie of a man and the securitie of a God. Incredible is the force of Philosophie, to repell all the forces of fortune. There are some sorts of armes that can con­quer [Page 249] her. She is couered with thicke and massiue armour, shee wearieth some things that combat her, and like light darts, receiueth them with her open brest, some she shaketh off, and darteth them backe on him that cast the same.

EPIST. LIIII.

That he was troubled with often sighing, and thereupon thought on death. That it is not to be feared, because that we shall be the same after death, that we were before. Let vs be prepared.

MY sicknesse, that had giuen me a long truce and intermission, sud­denly inuaded me. After what manner, saiest thou? Truely thou hast reason to aske mee, for there is not any one sort, but that I haue beene sensible of it: yet am I, as it were, destituted to one sicknesse, which why I call by the Greeke name I know not, for it may aptly enough be called a sicknesse. It continueth a very little time in his violence; which is like vnto a gust, and passeth away almost in an houre. For who is he that continueth long time a dying? All the dangers and sicknesses that may trauell a bodie, haue passed by mee, no one of them seemeth more troublesome vnto me: and why? For in all other euils whatsoeuer, a man is but sicke, but this is death it selfe. And therefore the Physitians call it the medita­tion of death. The shortnesse of breath will at length effect that, which it hath often endeuoured to doe. Thinkest thou that I write this vnto thee with great ioy, because I haue escaped? If to this end that I tooke delight to be in health, I doe as ridiculously as [...]e, that thinketh himselfe dismissed of the suite, when he hath deferred his putting in baile to the actiō: yet in the very suffocation inter­mitted, I cease not to comfort my selfe with some pleasing & confident cogita­tions: What is this (say I?) Doth death come so often to assaile mee? Let him doe it hardly. For mine owne part, it is a long time I haue proued it. When was it (sayest thou?) Before I was borne, it is a death not to be that it was be­before. I know alreadie what thing it is, that shall be after my death, which was before my birth: if a man feele any torment therein, it must needs follow, that we had some sense thereof before we came into this world; but then felt I no vexation. I pray you, should he not be a great fool, that should think that a can­dle were more vnhappy after it were extinguished, thē before that it was light? So faireth it with vs, we are lightned, & extinguished; betwixt both these times we suffer some things. But before and after is a certaine and profound assurance of our euils. For in this, my Lucilius, we erre, except I be deceiued, in that we iudge death to follow; wheres it goeth before, and is like to follow. Whatsoe­uer was before vs, is death? For what difference is there whether thou begin­nest not, or whether thou endest; the effect of both these is not to bee. With these and such like silent exhortations (for speake I might not) I ceased not to talke vnto my selfe, at length by little and little, this sighing which began alrea­die to returne to be a breathing, took more long pauses, and hauing more liber­tie, kept his accustomed tune and proportion. Neither as yet, although the fit be c [...]ased, hath my breath his naturall course. I feele a certaine touch and hang­ing on thereof. Let him doe what he will, prouided that I sigh not in my soule; assure thy selfe thus much of mee, that when I shall find my selfe at the last gaspe, I will not be astonished. I am alreadie resolued, I care not when the day [Page 250] commeth. Praise and imitate him that is not aggrieued to die, when as he hath the greatest occasion to reape the pleasures of life. For what vertue is it to issue out, then, when thou art cast out? yet is there a vertue herein. True it is, that I am driuen out, but so it is as if I issued voluntarily. And therefore a wise man is neuer driuen out; for to be driuen out, is to to be cast out of a place in spight of a mans teeth: but a wise man doth neuer any thing perforce, he flieth necessity, because he willeth that which she may constraine.

EPIST. LV.

Of the Manor-house of VATIA, and of VATIA himselfe. Then of good and euill Leasure. Likewise that friends may and ought to be present in minde.

WHen I returne hence from my cariage and exercise in my chaire, I am for the most part no lesse wearie, then if I had walked so long time, as I was sitting: for it is a labour to be long time carried, and I know not whether in that it be more great, because it is a­gainst Nature, which gaue vs fe [...]te, that we might walke by our selues, eyes, that we might see by our selues. Daintinesse hath caused this infirmitie in vs, and that which we would not, long time we haue desisted to be able to do: yet had I need to trauell my bodie, and to doe exercise, to the end, that if I had either choller stayed in my throat, I might discusse the same, or if my breath by any cause were growne short, I might extenuate the same by this agitation, which I haue knowne to haue done me much good: and therefore caused I my selfe to bee carried more long time, for the pleasure that I tooke vpon the shoare, which shooteth out a certaine abutment or bowing land, betwixt the towne of Cumae and Seruitius Vatia his Lordship, enclosed as a strait passage betweene the sea, which is on the one side, and the lake which is on the other, because at that time it was more hard and more thicke, by reason of the tempest which had raigned a little before. And as thou knowest when the billowes of the raging [...]louds couer the same very often, the sands become more full and vnite, but a long calmie time causeth them to relent, and diuideth the sand which was har­dened by the water, after the humour hath beene wholly dried: yet according to my custome I began to looke about me, if I could find any thing in that place that might breed me any profit, and I addressed my sight vpon a country house which had in times past pertained to Vatia. There it was, where that rich man, who in times past had beene Pretor [...] and had neuer beene knowne by any other meanes, but for retiring him selfe thither, spent his later yeares, and was for this cause reputed happie. For as often as Asinius Gallus friendship, as often as Sei­anus hatred or fauour had drowned some men, (for it was as dangerous to haue offended him, as to haue loued him) all men cried out, O Vatia, thou art the on­ly man that knowest how to liue; & yet he knew but how to hide himselfe, but not to liue. Truely there is a great difference, whether thy life be idle or sloth­full. I neuer passed by this house of Vatia, but that I said Vatia is enterred heere. But Philosophie, my Lucilius, is a thing so sacred and venerable, that if there be any thing that resembleth it, it pleaseth in the delusion. For the common sort suppose, that a man that is retired from the Citie, to liue in repose, is full of assu­rance and contentment: and that he liueth but to him selfe, all things, both the one and the other, cannot but befortune, and attend a wise man. True it is that [Page 251] the wise man careth not for any thing, and that he knoweth how to liue vnto himselfe. For (that which is the principall good) he knoweth how to liue. For he that [...]lieth both from men and affaires; he whom the miserie of his ambitions hath banished out of the Citie, that cannot see any more happie then himselfe, that like a fearefull and slothfull creature, hath been hid for feares, he liueth not to himself, but that which is more loathsome & disliking, he liueth to his belly, his sleepe and his lust. He liueth not to himselfe, that liueth to no man; yet con­stancie and perseuerance in our first designes, is a thing so valued, that obstinate idlenesse retaineth and hath some authoritie also. Touching the building it selfe, I can speake or write thee nothing certaine, for I onely know it outward­ly, and by the show it maketh to all passengers. There are are two caues of mar­uellous workmanship, alike with spacious entrance, and builded by hand, the one whereof neuer admitteth the Sunne, and the other is filled with his refle­ctions vntill he set. There is a place planted with Plane-trees, in the middest whereof there runneth a brooke, that falleth afterwards into the sea, and into the lake of Acherusium, and it diuided is as an Euripus, sufficient to nourish much fish, although a man take them daily: but it is spared when the sea affordeth good fishing time, and when as a tempest restraineth the fisher-men: each one may catch and fish them easily. But the greatest commoditie that is in this house, is that it hath behind the wals thereof, the Bayas, and that being exempt from all the incommodities thereof, it pertaketh all the pleasures and delights of the same. I my selfe on my knowledge can giue it this commendation, that I beleeue it to be a place fit to be inhabited all the yeare long. For it is opposite against the West-winde, and intercepteth it so conueniently, that it hindereth it from blowing vpon Bayas: not inconsiderately, as it seemeth, did Vatia make choice of this place, in which he might bestow his idle time, and old age; yet very little or nothing doth place profit to the tranquillitie of the spirit, it is the minde which commendeth all things, I haue seene some liue pensiue and me­lancholie in their houses of pleasure: I haue seene othersome liue in solitarie places, as if they had much businesse. Wherefore thou art not to thinke, that therfore thou art little at thine ease, because thou art not in Campania: but why art thou not? send thy thought hither: Thou mayest conferre with thine ab­sent friends, yea as often, and as long as thou wilt, then most of all enuie we this pleasure (which is the greatest) when wee are absent. For presence maketh vs wantons, and because that we conferre together, that we walke together, and that at sometimes we sit together; so soone as we are departed one from another we remember them no more, whose presence we haue lost of late. And for this cause ought we not to bee grieued with the absence of our friends, for there is not one, that is not farre absent from them, euen in their very presence: if thou wilt first of all recount the nights, wherein thou art separated from them: the diuers occupations that both one and the other haue; the secret studies, the goings and commings out of the Citie; and thou shalt see that the time, which long voyages make vs loose, is not ouer-great. A friend is to be possessed in minde: she seeth alwaies him whom she will see. And therefore I pray thee studie with me, sup with me, and walke with me: we should liue in a miserable restraint, if any thing were hidden from our thoughts. I see thee, my Lucilius then with most content, when I heare thee. I am so truely with thee, that I am' in doubt whether I should begin to write, not Epistles, but bookes vnto thee.

EPIST. LVI.

That a setled minde enioyeth it selfe, and intendeth his studies, yea euen amiddest the presse of men. This teacheth me by his example. That inward silence and peace is more to be wished for. Furthermore, that sloth is euill, and the mother of desires.

LEt me die, if silence be as necessarie, as it seemeth to him that is re­tired to his studie. Behold what different cries sound about me on euery side, I am lodged euen ouer the bathes. Represent vnto thy selfe now all sorts of voyces, that may draw the eares into hatred of them: when the stronger so [...]t doe their exercises, when they spread their hands loaden with leade, when either they trauell, or imitate him that laboureth, I heare their groan [...]s. As soone as they haue giuen libertie to [...]heir retain [...]d breath, I heare their wheesings and waightie breathings. When a man [...]alleth into the hands of an vnmannerly sot, that taketh vpon him to an­noint men, and is content to serue them, as he would doe any one of the inferi­our people, I heare the stroake of his hand that striketh them on the shoulders; which according as hee layeth it on, either flat or hollow, changeth his sound. But if perchance he that casteth the balles, annointed with pitch to nourish the fire vnder the baynes, commeth in, and that he beginneth to reckon them, all is lost. Count him likewise that cleanseth the ordures, and the theefe taken in the a [...]t, and he also that taketh pleasure to heare his voice ring in the bath. And like­wise to this number those that with a full leape, and with a great shout, cast themselues into the bayne. Moreouer, put them in this rancke, who at the least, if they doe no other thing, haue their voices and words ful-mouthed; as him that draweth the haire from the arme-pit, that incessantly breatheth forth a small and trembling voice, to the end hee may be the better noted amongst the rest, that neuer holdeth his peace, but at such time when he riddeth the arme-pits of haire, to some one whom he constraineth to crie for him. A man h [...]areth afterward an infinite crie of Cake-sellers, of Saudsige-mongers, and crackling Merchants, and all the Cookes skullions, who sell their meate, euerie one of them with their proper tune, to the end they may be the better marked. O how iron a braines is thine (sayest thou) O how deafe art thou, if thy spirit be not troubled, amidst such dimme, and diuersitie of cries, since our Chrysippus fell downe almost dead, to heare the good-morrowes which men gaue him in saluting him. For mine owne part, I honestly sweare vnto thee, that I care as little for all these cries, as for the flouds or fall of a riuer; although that I haue heard say, that a people was constrained, for this only cause, to go and rebuild their citie in another country, because they could not endure the fall which the noise of Nilus made. In my opinion, words distract a man more then noyses. For words distract the minde, and noise doth no other thing but fill and beate the eare. Amongst those that make a noise, but distract not my spirit, I place those coach-men and smithes that hire my shop, the lock-maker my neigh­bour, and he that dwelleth neere to the Temple of peace, when hee trieth his Trumpets and Hant-boyes, and who not only singeth, but exclaimeth. The noice likewise more troubleth me that is intermitted, then that which is con­tinued. But I am now in such sort hardened to all this, that I can now heare a Captaine of a Gally, when he teacheth his Gally-slaues with a sterne voice, how to manage their oares. For I compell my mind to be intentiue to it selfe, and [Page 253] not to be distracted by exterior things. Let whatsoeuer voice be made exteri­orly, prouided there be no debate in my soule, prouided that desire and [...]eare in me are not at oddes, prouided that auarice and prodigality haue not any quarrell together, and that the one maketh not warre against the other. For what auaileth it vs to haue silence round about vs; if the passions of the minde storme and be distempered.

Night couered all compos'd to quiet rest.

This is false, there is no peaceable sleepe, but when as reason engendreth it. It is the night that representeth vnto vs all our troubles, in stead of drawing them from vs, and doth nothing but change our cares. For the dreames of those that sleepe are as troublesome vnto them, as is the day. That is true tranquillitie, on which a good and holy soule may repose. Marke me him that seeketh for his sleepe in a large and spacious house, and how to prouide that no noise offend his eares: all the troope of his seruants keepe silence and are still, and how they that would approach his bed, lift vp their feete, and set them softly on the ground. Truely he doth nought else but turne and tosse this way and that way, he taketh but a slight rest, intermixed with discontents of the minde, hee com­plaineth that he heareth that which he heareth not. What thinkest thou is the cause hereof? It is a tumult that is engendred in his soule, that it is, which hee should appease, it is the sedition of the minde that should bee extinguished, which thou must neuer suppose to haue quiet rest, although thy bones be laid to rest. Repose sometimes as without repose. It shall be therefore requisite for vs to awake our selues by the managing of some affaires, and to occupie our selues, in the search of good arts and sciences, when we perceiue that the sourge of idlenesse (which cannot endure it selfe) doth ouerwhelme vs. The greatest Generals of armies, at such time as they perceiue that their souldiers doe grow disobedient, they make them martch, to keepe them in obedience, and cause them to vndertake some sudden onslaught. They that haue businesse, haue no leasure to waxe wanton. It is a thing most certaine, that there is nothing that more confoundeth those vices, which are engendred by idlenesse, then trauell and occupation doth. We seeme very often to haue retired our selues out of the Citie, by reason of our distaste for the euer managing of publike affaires, and for that we repent our selues, that we haue so long time remained in a place, where we receiue nothing but miseries and displeasures. And yet notwithstan­ding, in that verie caue, into which our feare and wearinesse hath cast vs, our am­bition reuiueth and flourisheth. For it is not wholly lost, it is only wearied, it is onely repulsed, seeing the affaires grew not answerable to his expectation. As much say I of prodigalitie and lauish expence, which seemeth sometimes to be retired, and commeth afterwards to sollicite those anew, who haue resolued with themselues to liue soberly and wisely, and in the middest of their thrift she reassumeth those pleasures (which she had not wholly condemned, but onely left for a time) with a force as much more violent, as she is couertly hid­den. For those vices which appeare outwardly are much lesse dangerous, and infirmities themselues begin to take remedie, when they appeare in sight, and manifest their venome. Make account ther [...]fore, that auarice, ambition, and those other euill passions which trauaile our soules, are more pernicious, when we faine our selues to be healed, and to haue lost them. We seeme to be idle, and we are not. For if it were true that we are, if we had sounded retreate to retire [Page 254] our selues from vices, if wee haue contemned that which seemeth to bee faire in outward appearance, as I haue said a little before, there is nothing that can recall vs, there is neither song of birds nor musicke of men that may crosse our holy thoughts, when they shall alreadie be firmed and assured. That wit is slight, and as yet scarce well retired into it selfe, that admireth at the bruite of euery small accident. He hath some care hidden in his soule, and some feare that maketh him pensiue; and as our Virgil saith,

And me whom erst no darted weapons mou'd,
Nor Grecian troopes for courage once improu'd,
Now euery win [...]e that breathes or beats mine eare,
Awakes my sleepes, and breedes my sudden feare,
Starting I wake, and feare doth me surprise,
For him I beare, and for my charge likewise.

The first of these is wise, and is not daunted with the darts that are shot against him, neither with the threatning armes of a great squadron of the enemie, nor with the out-cries of a Citie disturbed with sedition. But the other is an igno­rant [...]ot, he is afraid to lose his goods, he is affrighted at the first noise he hea­reth, he thinketh that a little voice is a great rumour, and the least motion aba­teth his courage. The burthen of his riches maketh him thus fearefull: make choice of whom thou wilt, amongst all these rich men, that gather much, and beare great wealth with them, thou shalt see that he is alwaies in feare, both for those that he beareth with him, as for those that follow him. Know therefore that then thou art well composed, when no feare can moue thee, when no voice can make thee depart out of thy selfe, not at that time when it flattereth thee, nor then when it threatneth thee, neither then when with a vaine ru­mour it shall make a noise in thine eare. What then? Is it not more commo­dious not to heare their slanders? I confesse it. Therefore is it that I would re­tire my selfe from this place, but my intent was to make triall of, and to exer­cise my patience. What needeth it a man to suffer himselfe to be tormented a long time, if Vlisses haue found so easie a remedie for his companions, against the Sirens themselues?

EPIST. LVII.

O [...] the Neapolitan Vault and the horror there. Then that our first motions are not in our power. Somewhat of the tenuitie and celeritie of the minde.

WHen I would depart from Baias to returne to Naples, I easily be­leeued that we should haue a tempest, because I would no more trauaile by sea: but there were so many slowes all the way long, that a man might iustly imagine that I had iourneyed by water. I was enforced that day to suffer all the fatallitie of the wrestlers. For after we had beene well wet, we were tormented all the day long with dust in the Vault of Naples. There is nothing more long then that prison, nothing more obscure then the entrance of that caue, which was the cause that we saw not through the darknesse, but darkenesse themselues; neuerthelesse, although the place had light in it, yet the dust which is likewise as troublesome and [Page 255] displeasant in open aire, would obscure the same. What thinkest thou then that it should be in this Vault, where after it is raised like a tempest, enclosed in one place where no aire breatheth, it falleth downe on those that haue raised it. We haue suffered two great and contrary commodities, in the same way, and the same day, we haue beene tormented with dirt and with dust. Yet this obscu­ritie gaue me some fit matter to thinke vpon. I felt, as it were a great shake and fearelesse change in my minde, which the noueltie of a thing so vnaccustomed, and the loathsomenesse of that place had caused. I speake not now with thee of my selfe, who am farre short of a man entirely perfect, but yet of a tollerable taught man. I speake of him, ouer whom Fortune hath no power, for that other would change both colour and courage. For there are certaine passions which a man cannot auoid, by any vertue. Nature admonisheth him that he is mor­tall. And therfore he will, frown at the first cause of sorrow; he will tremble for feare at a sudden accident, his sight will bee troubled, if being carried to the height of a huge mountaie, he behold the huge and vaste depth. This is not feare, it is a naturall passion, which reason cannot conquer. Therefore is it, that some valiant men, and most readie to shead their owne blood, that cannot endure to see another mans. Some that cannot behold a fresh wound, and o­thersome that swound, with onely touching an old and mattery sore; and o­thers that are afraid to see a naked sword drawne in iest, and yet feare not to be killed. I felt then, as I tould thee, not an astonishment, but a change. Againe, as soone as we came vnto the light, a sudden ioy surprised me, without thinking of that. Then began I to say in my selfe; how without cause wee feare some­things more, somethings lesse, although the end of all of them be alike. For what difference makest thou, whether the ruine of a tower, or of a mountaine, fall vpon a sentinel? Thou shalt find none: notwithstanding there are some that will feare more the fall of the tower, although both of them be powerfull e­nough to make them die: because feare apprehendeth more the effects, then the cause that engendreth them. Thou thinkest (it may be) that I will speake of the Stoicks, who are of opinion, that the soule of a man, which is stifled and crushed vnder a great ruine, cannot issue, but that shee disperseth her selfe in­continently, because she might not escape freely. But I do not; and they that say so are very much deceiued, in my opinion. Euen as a flame cannot be choaked, because it flieth and retireth it selfe, with that which driueth it: as the aire can­not be hurt with a stroake, nor be diuided, or harmed by a whip, but spreadeth it selfe round about the bodie, to which it maketh place: So the soule, which is the subtillest and purest thing of the world, cannot be either retained or tor­mented within the bodie, but by the meanes of her subtiltie, shee glideth tho­row all that which presseth her. And euen as the lightning, after it hath beaten and hugely blasted an house, departeth thorow a very little hole: So that soule which is farre more subtill then fire, passeth and penitrateth thorow all sorts of bodies. Therefore may we enquire thereof, whether it may be immortall. But hold this for a thing assured, that if it suruiue the bodie, that consequently it cannot perish by any meanes whatsoeuer, because it may not perish. For there is not any immortalitie, that is subiect to exception or condition: and there is nothing also which may hurt that which is eternall.

[...]
[...]

EPIST. LVIII.

That certaine late wordes are now out of vse. He passeth to the Phisiques, and sheweth how manifolde Ens or Being is out of PLATO. He fitteth it to the Ethnick, and that nothing here is the same, or perpetuall. Then what vse can subtilties haue, and that this it to be taken in euery thing. He addeth of olde age and death, and that neyther is to be wished or refused.

NEuer had I better knowledge of the pouertie, or, to speake truely, the indigence which we haue of wordes, then I haue at this day. A thousand things happened when as casually we spake of Pla­to, which wanted or had not their names, and some which had, and some that through our delicacie had lost that name which they had by antiquitie. But who can allow of that disgust in so great pouertie? That Ox-flie which the Grecians call Oestrum that stingeth and chafeth beasts, and scattereth them in the Forrests, our Latines called Asilus. Thou mayest well beleeue Virgil:

And those Ox-flies that in great troupes do flie
Neere Alburne Mountaine, or to Siler wood;
The which in Roome Asilus signifie,
And by the Greekes for Oestrum vnderstood,
Stinging and buzzing, which make cattell stray
Amidst the Forrests scattered with dismay.

I thinke that he vnderstood that this word was wholly lost. And to the end that I delay thee no longer, there were some simple words in vse, as when they said amongst themselues Cernere ferro inter se, that is to say, to determine their quarrels betwixt themselues by armes. The same Virgil shall proue this,

And King LATINVS too amazed stands
To see two men both borne in forraine landes,
In seuerall Angles of this mighty frame,
Could thus assembled meete, and ioyne their bands,
To trie their right by sword, and winne the same.

Which now we call decernere, which is as much to say as Decide. The vse of this simple word is lost. Our ancestors said Si iusso, that is to say, Si iusser [...], which signifieth, If I command. I will not that thou beleeue me. Heerein Virgil is a faithfull witnesse;

Let all the other troupes
Which I command come after to the fight.

I labour not now by this diligence, that I may shew how much time I haue lost after the Grammarians, but that thou mayest vnderstand this, how many wordes a man readeth in Ennius and Attius, which at this day are rustie and out-worne, since those of Virgil himselfe, who is daily ouer-looked and handled by vs, are in some sort lost vnto vs. What meaneth this preparation, sayst thou? [Page 257] Whereto tendeth it? I will not conceale it from thee. My desire is (without offensing thine eare) to say Essensed; if not, I will neuerthelesse say it, although I should displease thee. I haue Marcus Tullius Cicero, the Father of all Romane eloquence, and whom it is no shame to imitate, author and approuer of this word; whose example and authoritie I thinke is sufficient. If thou art de­sirous to haue one of our late Writers, that hath vsed this word, I haue Fabianus, one of our owne profession, a man of great learning and eloquence, of a stile full of sharpenesse and elegancie, and of an extraordinarie puritie and neatenesse of tongue, which although it be excellent in his kinde, yet sometimes dis­gusteth with too much affectation. What should I doe my Lucilius? How should I call this Greeke word [...], that is to say, Essence, or Existence, or Being, or Substance? A thing so necessarie, contayning in the vnderstanding thereof, all the whole frame of that, which by all Philosophers both auncient and mo­derne is called Nature, and which is the foundation of all things? I pray thee giue me leaue to vse this word. Yet wil I make vse of the libertie thou hast giuen me to vse this word, most sparingly; & will not vse it but vpon necessitie, when no other word will so perfitly explicate the sense: and it may be that I will not vse it all, but content my selfe with the priuiledge onely. But where­to shall this facilitie of thine serue me, considering that I cannot in any sort ex­presse this word in Latine, which is the cause that I haue so much exclaimed a­gainst our language? yet more wilt thou condemne the Romane penuri [...] and pouertie, when thou shalt finde there is a syllable which I cannot translate. Ask­est thou me what it is, [...], which is as much to say as That which is. Thou mayest suppose me to be grosse witted, and imagine it a very easie matter to be done, and that a man may translate that after this maner, and say, Quod est, That which is. But there is a great difference betweene them. For I am constray­ned to vse a Verbe for a Noune; and if I must needs giue one, I will say Quod est, That which is. A friend of mine, and a man of great knowledge tolde me this present day, that Plato gaue sixe significations to this word: I will expound all of them vnto thee, so soone as I haue explicated vnto thee, that there is a certain Genus and certaine Species also: for first of all we ought to seeke out this Gen­der, on which all the other Species and kindes doe depend, from whom all the difference and diuisions proceede, and vnder whom all is comprised. But this shall we finde out if we begin to reade all things backward: for by this meane we shall ascend and attaine vnto the [...]irst. A man as Aristotle saith, is a kinde, a horse is a kinde, a dogge is a kinde. A common bond is therefore to be found out, which knitteth together all these things, and comprehendeth them all in himselfe; and what shall this be? A liuing creature. A liuing creature then hath begun to be the Gender to all those I named of late; of a man, of a horse, & of a dog. But there are certain things which haue a soule, which are not liuing creatures: for it is a thing most certaine that seedes and trees haue soules; and therefore we say that they liue and die. Liuing creatures then shall holde the highest place, because that all things which haue life and sense are vnder this forme, yea, seedes also. Some things want a soule, as stones. Some things there­fore shall be more high and greater then such as are liuing creatures, that is to say a bodie. This will I diuide after this manner, that I may say that all bodies are animated or inaminated: and notwithstanding all this, there is something more high then a bodie. For we say that there are somethings corporeate, and other incorporeate: what then shall that be from whence these are deduced? That it is too much, we haue heretofore assigned a name improper enough. [...] [Page] [...] [Page] [Page 258] That which is: for so will it be diuided into Species, if we say, That which is, hath eyther a bodie or is incorporate. So here then is the first Gender & the highest, and if I should say so, the generall; the rest, to speake truth are Genders, but they are Speciats, as a man is a Genus. For he contayneth vnder him the kindes of Nations, Greekes, Romanes, and Parthians; and of colours, as white, blacke, and redde. There are also some particulars, as Plato, Cicero, Lucrece. For this cause when he containeth diuers things vnder him, he taketh th [...] name of a Gender, and when he is contained vnder any other he is called a Species. But that Gender which is generall hath nothing aboue it selfe: it is the beginning of all things. All whatsoeuer is, is vnder the same. The Stoicks would place another Gender aboue this as more principall, whereof I will speake anon, so soone as first of all I haue made manifest this, that the Gender whereof I haue spoken, ought in right to be placed in the first ranke, since in it selfe it comprehendeth all things. I di­uide That which is, into these kindes; that is to say, into corporeall and incor­poreall: for there is no third. But how shall I make diuision of the bodie? I must say, that eyther they are animated, or inanimate. Againe, how diuide I things animated? I will say that some haue vnderstanding, other some haue but a soule: or rather thus; some haue motion, walke or passe, some others are tyed to the earth, and are nourished and increase by their roots. Againe, into what kindes should I distinguish liuing creatures? Eyther they are mortall, or immor­tall. Some Stoicks suppose the primum Genus to be Quid; but why they so think I will hereafter set downe: In nature, say they, there are some things which are and are not, and that nature comprehendeth those things which are not, and present themselues to our vnderstanding, as are Centaures, Giants, and all other such things; which being formed by a false imagination, begins to haue some Image, although they haue no substance. Now returne I to that which I promi­sed thee, that is to say, how Plato hath diuided al things that are in six sorts. That first, Which is, a man cannot comprehend eyther by light or touch, or by any o­ther sence. That which is generall is but in imagination. As a man in generall is not seene by the eye, but a particular man is, as Cicero and Cato. A liuing creature is not seene, but is onely comprehended in the vnderstanding; yet are the kindes thereof s [...]ene, as a horse and a dogge. Of things which are, Plato putteth for the second Gender, that which is called eminent, and surpasseth all other. He saith that this is in way of excellencie. As a Poet is a common name, for all they that make Verses are so called. But now amongst the Greekes this word signifieth but one, and when thou shalt heare them say Poet, thou must vnderstand that it is Homer. What is it then that thou wouldest say? It is God who is the greatest and the most powerfull of all other things. The third kinde is of those things which are proper, and these are innumerable, but they are also placed out of our sight. Askest thou me what they are? They are Platoes, proper implements, and moueables, he calleth them Ideas, of which all things which we behold are made, and to which all things are formed. These are immortall, immutable, and inuiolable. Heare I pray you what Idea is, and what Plato thinketh of it. It is a patterne, and eternall moulde of all things, which are made by nature: yet will I adde an interpretation to this definition, to the end the matter may more plain­ly appeare vnto thee, I haue a will to make thy picture. Thou art the patterne of my picture, of which my mind gathereth some habit, which he will delineate in his worke. So that face which teacheth and instructeth me, and from which I deriue my imitation, is Idea. Nature then, the mother of all things, hath an in­finitie of these patternes, as of men, of fishes, of trees, on which is drawne and [Page 259] exprest all that which she ought to doe. The fourth place is giuen to an Image. But it behooueth thee to be very carefull in vnderstanding what this Image is, and that thou lay the blame on Plato and not on me, as touching the difficultie of things. Yet is there nothing that is subtill, which is not accompanied with difficultie. Not long since I vsed the comparison of the Image which a Painter made. He when in colours he would paint Virgil to the life, beheld him. Virgils face was the Idea, and the patterne of his intended worke; but that which the Painter hath drawne from that visage, and that which he hath painted on his ta­ble is [...], that is to say, an Image. Askest thou me what difference there is? The one is the patterne, the other the figure, drawne from the patterne, and put vpon the worke: th [...] one is that which the Painter imitat [...]th, and the other is that which he maketh. A statue that representeth a man, hath some face that is [...], which is as much to say, as an Image. The patterne it selfe also hath some face, on which the worke-man in beholding it, hath formed his. Image, and that is the Idea. Askest thou as yet another distinction? [...], that is to say, an Image is the worke which is made, and the Idea is out of the worke, and is not only out of the worke, but it is before that the worke was. The fift Gender is of those that are commonly, and they begin to appertaine vnto vs. There it is where all things are both men, and beasts, and all other things. The sixth Gender is of those things that seeme to be, as voyde and time, Plato numbreth not amongst these that which we see and touch, because they feete, and passe, and haue no being, but in a continuall diminution and adiection. There is no one of vs that in his olde age is that which he was when he was yong. No one man is the same in the morning which he was in the euening, before our bodies are rauished and rouled after the manner of Riuers. All that which thou [...]eest runneth with the course of time, nothing is permanent whatsoeuer we see. I my selfe, whilst I say that these things are changed, am changed my selfe. This it is that Heraclitus saith, we neuer descend two times into the same riuer: the same name of the Ri­uer remayneth, but the water is stolne by. This is more manifest in a riuer then in a man; yet doth a no lesse current carrie vs away. And therefore maruell I so much at our follie, that we can so heartily loue the bodie, which is a thing so subiect vnto flight, and that we haue feare to die some day, since euery moment is a death of the first estate, wherein we were. Wilt thou feare that, that shall be once done, which is daily don? I haue spoken of a man, which is a matter fraile, perrishable, and subiect to all accidents of fortune. But the world also, although it be eternall and inuincible, yet is it subiect to changes, and remaineth not in the same estate. For although as yet it hath all that which it euer had, yet hath it the same otherwise then it had it, and changeth his order. What sayest thou, shall this subtilty profite me? If thou aske, I will answer thee nothing. But euen as the Grauer, after he hath held his eyes so long time fixed on his worke, that they are wearied, fauoreth and recreateth them, or, as we are wont to say, repo­seth them: so likewise ought we sometimes to recreate our spirit, and refect the same with some delights prouided that these recreations be workes. Amiddest which, if thou take good heede, thou shalt finde something that may be whol­some. This my Lucilius, am I wont to do. In all things wherin I imploy my selfe, although they be far estranged frō Philosophie, I endeuour to draw some pro­fit wherof I may make vse. But what profit can I take from this Discourse that I haue now intertained, so estranged from reformation of manners? How can these Ideas of Plato make me better? What shall I draw from these that may re­straine my desires? At leastwise I shall learne that Plato denieth, that nothing [Page 260] of that which serueth our sensualitie, that heateth and prouoketh vs, is of the number of those things that are really. These things then are imaginarie, and beare some appearance for a time: there is nothing in them that is firme and as­sured; and notwithstanding we desire them as if they should be alwayes durra­ble, and continually permanent with vs. We are wearied and feeble, and linger for a time in the way. Let vs fixe our mindes on those things that are eternall: let vs admire the formes of all things that flie on high, and how God conuersing amongst them, and prouiding for all conserueth that against death which he could not make immortall because the matter hindered him, and how by rea­son he might surmount the vices of the bodie. For all things remaine, not be­cause they are eternall, but because they are defended by the care of him that gouerneth them. Immortall things neede no conseruer or tutor, the work-man that made them, maintayneth them, surmounting by his vertue the frailtie of the matter. Let vs contemn al these things which are not so pretious, that it is to be doubted whether they be at all. Let vs thinke also by the same means, that if the diuine prouidence freeth and keepeth this world (which is no lesse mortall then we are) from all perils and dangers, that we likewise may by our proui­dence lengthen out a litle time, and prolong life in this little bodie of ours, if we can bridle and moderate our pleasures, by meanes whereof the greater part of men are lost. Plato himselfe by a discreet gouernement, of himselfe hath attay­ned to olde age. He had a strong and able bodie, and men gaue him that name by reason of the broadnes of his breast; but his voyages by Sea, and those dangers he had passed, had very much diminished his forces: yet his sobrietie and the moderation of those things which call on, and prouoke voracitie, and the dili­gent gouernment of himselfe; the manie others causes hindered him, continu­ed to his olde age. For thou knowest this as I thinke, that this befell Plato by reason of the benefite of his diligence, that he departed on his birth-day, and fi­nished the race of foure-score and one y [...]res without any deduction. And ther­fore it was that certaine Magi, who by f [...]rtune were in the Cittie of Athens at that time, sacri [...]iced vnto him after his death, supposing that his nature was more excellent then that of other mens, because that he had iustly attained the most perfect number of life, which nine times accomplish. I doubt not but that he was readie to remit some few daies of this summe, and sacrifice. Frugali­tie may lengthen olde age, which in my opinion, as it is not to be desired, so is it not to be refused. It is a matter of great contentment for a man to be with him­selfe as long as he may, and especially when he hath made himselfe worthie to enioy the same. Neerely approcheth he the nature of a coward, that slothful­ly expecteth the last houre of his life: as he is beyond all measure addicted to wine, who after he hath drunke all the wine out of the tunne, would swallow downe the lees likewise. Yet will we notwithstanding dispute further whether the last part of our age be the lees of our life, or whether it be the most purest and liquidest part of our age, prouident that the soule be not any wayes enfee­bled, and that the senses be as yet entire for the seruice of the same, and that the bodie be not destitute of his forces, and halfe dead before his time. For it auay­leth much whether a man prolong his life, or linger his death. But if the bodie be in such sort vnprofitable, that it cannot any longer performe his functions; why should not a man draw his soule out of prison, that doth but languish? Per­aduenture it were the best to doe it the soonest that a man might, lest when it should be done thou canst not doe it. And whereas there is a greater danger of liuing badly, then of dying quickly: he is a foole the which the price of the losse [Page 261] of a little time will not redeeme the hazard of a great inconuenience. Few men hath long age brought to death without iniurie. And diuers men haue ouer­passed their life time idlely, without doing any thing. But why shouldest thou esteeme him more cruell to lose some part of life, which must likewise take an end? Be not displeased to vnderstand that which I say, as if this sentence should be pronounced against thee; but iudge thou of that which I say. I wil not aban­don mine olde age, if she reserue me wholly vnto my selfe. I say wholly in re­spect of that part which is the best. But if she haue begun to trouble mine vn­derstanding, or to ruinate some part, or that she hath not left me my life, but my soule: I will depart out of this ruinous and rott [...]n house: I will not flie a sicke­nesse by the remedie of death, prouided that it may be healed, and that it breed no damage to my soule: I will not kill my selfe to make an end of my paine; for it is as much as to be vanquished, to die after this manner: yet if I knew that I should endure the same, all the rest of my life, I would depart from it, not by reason of the griefe, but for that it would hinder me from doing all things for which a man desireth to liue. A man is a recreant, and of little courage, that dy­eth to escape from paine. He is a foole likewise that liueth to feele nothing but paine. But I am ouer-long, there is matter besides which cannot be expressed in a day. But how might he make an end of his life, that cannot make an end of his letter? Farewell then: for thou wilt reade these later words more willing­ly, then the other discourses which intreate of nothing but death.

EPIST. LIX.

The difference betwixt voluptuousnesse and ioy, and that this is an honest word. Then praiseth he LVCILIVS his stile, and that a Philosopher likewise is not to neglect words: and that parables and similitudes are to be loued, yet that we are seriously, and not slightly to studie Philosophie, neyther must we please our selues quickly, since flat­terie confoundeth vs.

I Haue read thy Letter with great pleasure, permit me, I pray the [...], to vse these common words; neyther reuoke them to the Sto [...]cks signification. We beleeue that pleasure is a vice. Put case it be [...] yet are we wont to vse this word to expresse an affection of ioy in our soules [...] I know well, I tell thee, that pleasure (if we will that our wordes be ay­med to our own purpose) is an infamous thing, and that ioy cannot happen but to a wise-man. For ioy is a certaine lifting vp of the minde, that trusteth to his proper goods and forces. Yet commonly we speake thus, and say that we haue conceiued a great ioy of such a mans Consulate, or of some marriages, or of our wiues bringing to bed, which are not so certaine ioyes, but that oft-times they are the beginnings of future sadnesse. But true ioy hath this benefite to accom­panie it, that it neuer hath end, neyther is turned to his contrarie. Therefore when our Virgil saith, And the euill ioyes of the minde, he speaketh elegantly, but yet not properly. For there is not any euill that bringeth ioy. He hath giuen this name vnto pleasures, and hath very well expressed that which he would say; for he meant and expressed those men that reioyce in their euill and mis­fortune: yet haue not I without cause said that I took great pleasure in thy Epi­stle. For although an ignorant man reioyce vpon a good occasion, yet so it is, that I call that affection which he cannot moderate, and that presently will cas [...] [Page 262] it selfe vpon other diuers subiects. I call it, I say pleasure, conceiued by opinion of a fained good, conducted without measure and discretion. But to returne to my purpose, heare what delighted me in thy Epistle: Thou hast wordes at will, thy discourse transporteth thee not, & draweth thee not further then thou hast destinated. There are some that are drawne by the beautie of some word that best likes them, to write more then they had purposed, but the same befal­leth not thee. All is well ordered and well applyed. Thou speakest as much as thou wilt, & signifiest more then thou speakest. This is a sign of som greater mat­ter. Moreouer, it appeareth that it hath no superfluitie in it, & nothing proude: yet finde I somtimes Metaphors, which as they are not ouer-hardie, so are they not vnprouided of beautie, and that haue alreadie made proofe of their good grace. I finde certaine comparisons, whereof if there be any one that will inter­dict vs the vse, and permitteth them onely to Poets, he seemeth to me that hee hath not read any of the auncient authors: amongst whom as yet a plausible speech was not affected or expected. They that speake simply, and to make vs onely vnderstand that they would speake, were full of Metaphors & similitudes, which in my opinion were necessarie, not for the same cause the Poets had to vse them, but to assist the feeblenes of our spirit, and to represent most liuely to the Disciple, and to the auditor that which they said. As behold when I reade amongst other, Sextius a vehement and subtill man, Philosophying in Greeke wordes and Romane manners, I tooke great pleasure to see the similitude and comparison which he vsed, that an armie which feareth to be assailed by an ene­mie, martcheth in a square battell, to be more readie for the fight: The wise-man, saith he, should doe the like; he ought to stretch out his vertues on all sides, to the end that if there be any danger that threatneth him, his supply may be in a readinesse, and that without any disorder they may obey their gouernour; which we see to fall out in armies, which great Captains know how to arrange, where all the troopes are so orderly disposed, that both the one and the other vnderstand at the same time the commandement of their Generall, and the watchword is as soone heard amongst the battell of footmen, as the troopes of horsemen. But Sextius saith, that this is more necessarie for vs, then for men of warre. For they haue oftentimes had feare of the enemie without cause, and the high-way they feared to be most dangerous to them, was most assured. Fol­ly hath nothing which is exempt from feare. She feareth as much from aboue, as from beneath; she is afraid both of the one quarter and of the other. There are dangers that come before her, and that follow after her. She is afraid of all things; she is neuer assured, but feareth her owne succours and assistants. But a wise-man is armed, and aduised against all fortunes and violences, although po­uertie, miserie, ignominie and paine assault and charge him, he will neuer retire [...] he wil march, without any feare against his mischiefs, and in the midst of them [...] diuers things hold vs bond, and restraine vs, diuers other take from vs our for­ces, wee haue so long time lien soyled in these vices, that wee can hardly bee cleansed from them. For wee are not onely soiled, but also wholly poysoned. And to the end, that from one comparison we passe not to another. I will aske thee (which I haue oftentimes considered in my selfe) why it is that folly doth so opimatiuely tie vs vnto her? First, because we repulse her not valiantly, and that we will not doe our vttermost endeuour to seeke helpe. Next, because we giue not sufficient credit to those things which are found out by wise men; nei­ther receiue them with an open breast, and passe ouer, and that ouer-lightly, a thing of great importance. But how can any man sufficiently learne what suffi­ceth [Page 263] against vices, who learneth but then, when he hath leasure to giue ouer the libertie of his vices. There is none of vs that diueth to the bottome, we haue onely gathered the top. It is ouer-much to haue beene employed, and to haue giuen a very little time to Philosophie. But that which most hindereth vs, is that we ouer-much please our selues, with our s [...]lues: If we finde any man that will call vs good men, wise and holy men, we bel [...]eue them. We are not satis­fied with a moderat praise, whatsoeuer immoderat flatterie hath heaped on vs, we receiue as due vnto vs, we consent vnto those that say we are very wise and very good, although we know well that they are accustomed to lie. And so farre flatter we our selues, that we will be praised for things wholly contrarie to that we doe. Such a one there is that heareth, that euen they whom hee sendeth to execution, call him sweete and mercifull, liberall in his thefts and robberies, so­ber and temperate in his drunkennesse and lecherie. Whence it commeth to passe, that wee will not make any change in our selues, because wee iudge our selues to be honest men. Alexander, at such time as he ouer-ranne all India, and pillaged the same by warre, as far as those nations that were scantly knowne to their neighbors, riding about the wals of a Citie, which he beheld besieged, to know on what side it was most easie to bee assaulted, and finding himselfe wounded by the shot of an arrow, he remained a long time on horsebacke, and continued his enterprise. But after the blood was stanched, and that the paine of the wound which was alreadie dried, began to encrease, and that his legge which hung on his horse pommell, began to be astonied, he was constrained to retire himselfe, and to say, All the world sweareth that I am IVPITERS sonne, but this wound of mine crieth out that I am a man: The like let vs do, when as by force of flattery, euery one of vs are made fooles. Let vs say, You report that I am wise, but I see how many vnprofitable things I desire, and how many hurtfull I wish for. Neither vnderstand I this which sacietie teacheth brute-beasts, what measure should be allotted for meat, what for drinke, as yet I know now how much I should take. Now will I teach thee how thou mayest vnderstand, that as yet thou art not wise. Hee may be termed, and is wise, who is replenished with ioy, glad and moderate, and that feeleth no passion, liueth equall with the gods. Now counsell thou thy selfe, if thou art neuer sad, if no hope sollicite thy minde, in expectation of that which is to come, if day and night, thy spirit enioy an [...]quall and assured repose, if it be contented in it selfe, thou hast attai­ned to the fulnesse of that felicitie a man may desire. But if as yet thou huntest after all sorts of pleasures, both heere and there, make account that thou art as farre estranged from wisdome, as thou shalt be from ioy and content. Thou hast a will to attaine thereunto, but thou deceiuest thy selfe, if thou thinkest that thou mayest atchieue the same by the meanes of riches. Searchest thou thy ioy amiddest honors, that is to say, amongst cares? These things which thou thus desirest, and thinkest to be any tables to breed thee pleasure and content, are but occasions of sorrowes. All thes [...], I say, thinke to finde ioy and pleasure, but they know not the meanes to gaine a great and perdurable contentment. One ta­keth that in his banquets and his foolish expences: another in his ambition and great troope of vassals, that follow and flocke about him on euery side, and others by the fauours of his friends, another by vaine ostentation of the studie of liberall Arts and Sciences, and letters which heale nothing. All these are besotted with a flattering pleasure, which continueth not long as drunkennesse, which yeeldeth some foolish ioy for an honor, and seeth it selfe afterwards fol­lowed with a tedious repentance. Or as the honor of an applause, and fauoura­ble [Page 264] acclamation of the people, which hath beene gotten and ended with much paine. Thou must then thinke this, that the effect of wisdome is the equalitie of ioy. The minde of a wise man is such, as is the state of the world aboue the Moone, there is the aire alwaies peaceable and faire. See here wherefore thou oughtest desire to be wise, for the wise man i [...] neuer without ioy. This content­ment groweth not, but from the conscience of vertues. No man can reioyce, but he that is constant, iust, and temperate. What then (sayest thou) do fooles and wicked men neuer reioyce? No, no more then Lions doe, that haue found their prey. When they are wearied and glutted with wine, and all other plea­sures, when as the night which they wholly ouer-passe in drinking is as yet but very short vnto them, when in a little bodie a man hath included greater plea­sures then it may containe, & that he beginneth to giue ouer, & cast them out, then wretches as they are, begin they to exclame and cry out this verse of Virgil.

For how we lewdly spent this later night
In fained pleasures thou well vnderstandest.

They which are addicted to foolish expence and superfluitie, passe all the night long in foolish pleasures, as if it should be their last. But that pleasure and ioy that followeth the gods, and those that liue as they doe, is neuer intermixed or brought to end: it should cease, if it proceeded and were borrowed from an other. But because it commeth not by the meanes of another, it dependeth not also on the power and authoritie of another. Fortune cannot take that away which she hath not giuen.

EPIST. LX.

That the vowes of the common sort are to be despised, and Nature is to be heard.

I Complaine, I wrangle, and am wrathfull. As yet deniest thou that which thy Nurse, thy Tutor, or mother haue wished thee. Thou knowest not as yet how many euils they haue wished thee. O how harmefull are the wishes of our friends vnto vs! Yea euen then most hurtfull, when they fall out most happily. I do not now mar­uell if all the mischiefes of the world befall vs, from our first infancie. We are growne amiddest the execrations of our parents. Let the gods at any time heare our vowes, without asking them any thing. How long shall it be, that we will alwayes craue some good at the hands of the gods, as if we had not wherewith to nourish our selues? how long shall we fill the fields with corne, that might suffice to satisfie great Cities: how long time shall it be that a whole Prouince or Nation shall be employed in reaping our corne? How long time shall it be, that a great number of ships shall be employed, to carrie from diuers seas the corne that should serue but one mans table? The Bull is fatned in the pasture of a few acres. One only Forrest sufficeth many Elephants. A man feedeth both of the land and sea. What then? Hath Nature giuen vs so vnsatiable a belly, in re­gard of that little bodie she hath giuen vs, that it should surpasse the voracitie and hunger of the hugest and most rauenous beasts in this world? Noe truely. For how little is it that wee owe vnto Nature? A man may content himselfe with a little. It is not the hunger of our bellies that costeth vs so deere, it is our [Page 265] glorie and ambition. And for this cause (as Salust saith) they which follow the pleasures of their belly, ought to be reckoned and ranked amiddest the number of beasts, and not of men; and some of them beside, not amongst the number of beasts, but of the dead. H [...] liueth that vseth him selfe, but they that lie hid in sluggishnesse, so liue in their houses as in a sepulchre. Although in their por­ches thou register their names in marble: yet they are buried before they are dead.

EPIST. LXI.

Let vs studie to be amended and changed. Let vs thinke on death, as if alwaies immi­nent, and addressed to lay hold on vs.

LEt vs desist to will that which we would, for mine own [...] part, as old as I am, I endeuour my selfe not to will that which I would, when I was a child. In this one thing employ I all my dayes and nights, this is my onely labour, this my care, to be able to bring mine old euils to an end. I endeauour that one day may bee to me as much as my whole life. And to speake truth, I take it not us yet as if it were the last, but I regard it, as if it might bee last of all my dayes that I am to liue. I write vnto thee this letter with such an apprehension, as if death should call mee, whilest I am writing of it. I am addressed and ready to depart; and therefore by securitie enioy I life, because I am not much troubled how long it shall last. Before [...]age I tooke care that I might liue in mine old yeares, that I might die well; and to die well [...] is to die willingly. Labour with thy selfe that thou doe nothing vnwillingly, whatsoeuer is necessarie will come to passe, necessitie is but to him that refuseth, and not to him that willeth. There is no necessitie for him that hath a will. I auerre it, that he who willingly submitteth himselfe to another mans command, hath fled the most vnseasonable and cru­ellest part of seruitude, that is to say, to doe that which he would not doe. Not he that vpon any command doth any thing, is a miserable man, but he that doth it against his will. In such sort therefore let vs compose our mindes, that we will that which necessitie requireth to be done: and aboue all things let vs thinke vp­on our end, without any shew of heauinesse. We must sooner prepare our selues to death, then to life. Life hath but ouer-much to entertaine the same, but we are they that long after these instruments, that entertaine the same. Wee thinke, and so shall wee alwayes suppose, that wee want somewhat; neither yeares nor daies shall bring to passe that wee haue liued sufficiently, but the minde. I haue liued, my dearest Lucilius, as much as sufficeth, I expect death, as one glutted with life.

EPIST. LXII.

That neither men or affaires are hinderances to a good minde. The praise of DEME­TRIVS.

THey that would make men belieue, that the multitude of affaires is a hinderance vnto them, in the pursuite and search of liberall studies, doe nought else but lie. They pretend and faine occu­pations, they augment them, and busie themselues. I am dis­charged of affaires, my Lucilius, I am discharged, and whereso­ [...]uer I am, I am wholly to my selfe. For I subiect not, but accommodate my sel [...]e to affaires. I runne not after the occasions which might make me lose time, and in what place soeuer I bide, there is it that I entertaine my thoughts, and rumi­nate some profitable matter in my minde. If I giue my selfe vnto my friends, for all that, forsake I not myselfe. I stay not also long time with them, whose company I haue entertained for a time, and for some cause that in duetie com­manded me. But I am with vertuous men. I send my thoughts and minde vnto them, in what places, and what times soeuer they haue beene. I leade alwayes with me, my Demetrius, the best of men, and leauing a part these purpurated fellowes. I talke with this man halfe naked, and admire him. But how should I chuse but admire him? He wanteth nothing. A man may contemn [...] all things, and no man can haue all things. The shortest way to riches is by contempt of riches. But our Demetrius liueth in such sort, that hee seemeth not to haue contemned all things, but onely to haue permitted that others should enioy them.

EPIST. LXIII.

A consolatorie Epistle vpon the death of a friend, both wise and excellent.

THou art very impatient, because thy [...]riend Flaccus is deceased, yet will I not that thou subiect thy selfe to disordinate sorrow. I dare not exact this at thy hands, that thou shouldest not grieue, yet know I this, that it is the better. But to whom is it, that so firme a constancie of minde may happen, but to him alone, who hath troden fortune vnder his feete. Yet him also would this thing trouble and pricke, yet would it but onely pricke. For our selues we may be pardoned, if we will, in teares, prouided that they be not ouer-lauish, and that we our selues haue repressed them. In the losse of a friend, neither let our eyes be drie, nor o­uerflowing; we must shead teares, but not weepe out-right. Supposest thou that I subiect thee to a rigorous law? When as the greatest Poet amongst the Greekes gaue leaue and limit to teares for one day only, when he said that Niobe also bethought her of her meate. Wilt thou know from whence these plaints and immeasurable teares proceed? By teares wee seeke the testimonie that wee bewaile them, and wee follow not griefe, but wee shew it. No man is sad to himselfe. O vnhappy folly, there is also some ambition of griefe. What then, sayest thou, shall I forget my friend? Vndoubtedly thou promisest him a verie short remembrance, if it must continue no longer then thy griefe. The least [Page 267] occasion of fortune, will suddenly change the wrinckles of thy brow into smiles. I grant thee not a more long time, the length whereof notwithstanding might calme and allay the greatest sorrowes of this world, and make an end of the most bitter griefes. As soone as thou shalt cease to flatter and nourish thy griefe, this opinion of sadnesse will forsake thee; now keepest thou, and enter­tainest thy sorrow, but how charily soeuer thou keepe it, it will escape from thee, and the sooner, the more sharper it is. Aboue all things, let vs labour that the remembrance of our friends which we loose, be agreeable and pleasing vnto vs. No man taketh pleasure to remember such a subiect, whereon hee cannot thinke without torment, notwithstanding if it cannot otherwise be, that the name of our friends, whom we haue lost, may be reduced to our memorie, with­out some touch and attaint of sorrow, that very touch it selfe hath some plea­sure in it. For as our Attalus was wont to say; The memorie of our deceased friends is pleasing vnto vs, no otherwise then the sowrenesse of old wine, or as apples eager-sweet are tastefull vnto vs. But after a little time is ouer-past, all that which tormented vs is extinguished, and then a pure and true pleasure is conceiued in our mindes, if wee will giue credit vnto him, to thinke th [...]t our friends are in health, is to eate hony and cakes. But the memorie of those that are deceased can yeeld no ioy, but that which is intermixed with some little bit­ternesse. But who is he that would deny that these sharpe things, and such as haue in them some acrimonie, are not hurtfull and displeasing to the stomacke? Yet am not I for all this, of that opinion. The remembrance of my friends that are deceased, is agreeable and pleasing vnto me. For I had them, as if I were to lose them, and I haue lost them, as if I had them. Doe therefore, my Lucilius, that which thy deiscretion requireth. Forbeare to giue an euill interpr [...]tation of the benefits of Fortune, she took away, but she had giuen. Let vs then enioy our friends with a greedie desire, because we know not whether they shall con­tinue with vs a long time or noe. Let vs thinke that we haue oftentimes left them, when as we had made some long voyages, and how oftentimes abiding with them in the same place, we haue not seene them; and we shall find that we haue lost more time when they were aliue. But may a man endure those that make no reckoning and account of their friends when they haue them, but be­waile them afterwards most miserably, and neuer loue any, but euen then when they haue lost him? And therefore do they then more abundantly weepe, be­cause they are afraid, left it should grow in doubt whether they loued them or no. Thus seeke they to take testimonies of their amitie. If wee haue other friends, we doe them iniurie, and conceiue an euill opinion of them, to thinke that they cannot comfort vs as much, as one onely whom we haue lost. And if we haue not any, we our selues doe our selues greater wrong, then we haue re­ceiued at Fortunes hands. She hath onely taken one from vs, and we haue not made any. Againe, he scarcely loued any one, which could not loue more then one. If a man that were robbed, and had lost the onely one coate that he had, had rather bewaile his misfortune, then bethinke him by what meanes hee might escape the cold, and finde something to couer his shoulders, wouldest thou not esteene him for a great foole? Thou hast buried him thou louedst, seeke now another whom thou mayest loue. It is better to get a new friend, then to bewaile an olde. I know well that the thing which I pretended now to speake is verie vulgar, and knowne vnto euery man: yet will I not pre­termit it, though all the world hath vsed it. Hee that by reason and counsaile, could not finde an end of his sorrow, met with it in time, but it is most con­temptible [Page 268] for a wise-man to finde no remedie for his sorrow, but by wearying himselfe with the same. I had rather thou shouldest relinquish thy sorrow, then that thou shouldest be left by it. Desist from doing that as soone as thou canst; which although thou wouldst thou canst not long do. Our auncestors limitted the tearme of a yeare for women to mourne in, not that they should mourne so long; but that they might not mourn longer. To men they prefixed no distinct time, because no time is honest; yet which of these women wilt thou name me, which could scarcely be drawn from the pile where their husband was burned, or dragged from his dead carcasse, whose moans continued for a whole month? Nothing groweth more soone into hatred then griefe; which being new, find­eth a comforter, and draweth some vnto him to solace him, but being inueterate is derided; and not without cause, for eyther it is fained, or it is foolish; yet doe I write this vnto thee, euen I, who haue immeasurably bewayled Annaeus Se­renus my deere friend, that (which I write with hearts-griefe) I might be num­bred amongst the examples of those, whom sorrow hath ouercome. But at this present time I condemne mine owne action, and thorowly perceiue that the greatest cause of my so mourning, was, because I neuer thought that I might haue died before him. I thought onely that he was younger, and farre more young then I, as if the destinies called vs by order of our birth. Let vs therfore continually meditate, as well on our owne mortalitie, as theirs whom we loue. Then should I haue said: my Serenus is yonger, what is this to the purpose? he must die after me, but he might also before me: and hauing not thought here­vpon, fortune surprising me on the sudden, strooke me thus. Now know I that all things are mortall, and that they are mortall, vnder an vncertaine lawe. That may be done to day, what euer may be done. Let vs thinke therefore deere Lucilius, that we shall quickly come thither where he is lodged, whom we so la­ment for. And happily (if the opinion of wise-men sauor of truth, and any place receiue vs, he whom we suppose to haue perished is but sent before vs.

EPIST. LXIIII.

The praise of QVINTVS SEXTIVS, and then of wisedome it selfe. That the true au­thors thereof are venerable, and that notwithstanding we may adde thereunto.

THou wert yesterday with vs. It may be demanded whether yester­day onely, and therefore I added, with vs [...] for thou art alwayes with me. Certaine friends came suddenly to me, vpon whose ar­riuall the Chimney smoaked more then it was accustomed; not that this smoake was of that kind, as that which was wont to fume from the Kitchins of those that intertaine feasts, or to terrifie those that watch by night; but a little smoake that signified that some guests were come to me. We had diuers and different discourses, as it happeneth to those that sit at ban­quet, reducing nothing to a resolution; but passing from one thing to another. Afterwards the booke of Quintus Sextius the father (a man of much knowledge if thou wilt beleeue, and a Stoicke, although some would denie it) was read vn­to vs. O good God, how is this man replenished with constancy and courage: Thou shalt not find the like amongst all the Philosophers. Some mens writings haue only a goodly title, the rest of them are without life, they make institutiōs, they dispute, and cauill, they adde no courage, because they haue none. When [Page 269] thou hast read Sextius, thou wilt say he liueth, he is full of vigour, he is free, he is more then a man. He leaueth me alwayes replenished with great assurance. Howsoeuer my minde be disposed [...] if I read him (I will confesse vnto thee) I am addressed to prouoke all casualties, and freely to exclaime. Why ceasest thou Fortune? Come and encounter me, thou shalt and doest see me in a readinesse. I cloath my selfe in his courage which serueth for a subiect, against which he may approue, and where he may expres [...]e his vertue.

He wisheth freely that he might behold
A foaming Boare amidst his idle folde,
Or some sterne Lion from the hils descend,
With golden crest his cattell to offend.

I desi [...]e to haue somewhat that I may ouercome. I will suffer to exercise my pa­tience [...] for Sextius likewise hath this admirable qualitie in him, that he will sh [...]w thee the excellency of a happy life, and wil not put thee out of hope to ob­ [...]ine the same. Thou shalt know that she is lodged in a place very high, not­withstanding a man that hath will, may mount thereunto. Amongst all o [...]her things, only vertue may giue thee the same, that thou maist admire therat, with­out losing thy hope to attaine the same. Truely the onely contemplation of wisedome, very oftentimes robbeth me of very much time. I beholde the same with no lesse astonishment, then I doe the heauens and the world, on which I oftentimes cast mine eyes, as if I had neuer seene the same: therefore is it that I reuerence and honor the intentions of wisedome, and the inuerters also: It de­lighteth me to goe and take possession thereof, as of an heritage common vnto many. These things are gotten, these things are laboured for me. But let vs pl [...]y the part of a good [...]ather of a family: let vs increase that inheritage which was left vs, [...]nd let this possession descend to my posteritie, in more ample manner then I receiued it from mine auncestors. Much there is that as yet remaineth to be done, and much more shall remaine: for after the reuolution of a thousand ages, the occasion shall neuer be left to them that are borne hereafter, to adde somewhat. And although antiquitie hath inuented all things, yet the vse, the science, and disposition thereof, which hath beene inuented, shall alwayes re­maine new. Put case we had some medicines left vnto vs for the healing of eies, I need not seeke for other; yet are these to be fitted both to the diseases, and to the times: by one of them the heate of the eyes is extinguished, by another the thicknesse of the eye-lids is attenuated; by one a sudden flux of humour and rhum [...] is diuerted, by another the sight is quickned. It behoueth thee to grinde these remedies, and allay them well, to make choice of the time, and that thou obserue a measure in euerie one of them. The remedies of the minde were inuented by our auncients, but it behooueth vs to seeke, how and when they should be applied. They that liued before vs haue done much, but they haue not finished the same. Yet must we honour them, and reuerence them as Gods. But why should I not haue the Images of these vertuous and great men in my house, to kindle & quicken vp my spirit? And why should I not celebrate their birth-dayes? Why should I not name them alwayes for honours sake? That veneration that I owe to my Masters, the same owe I to these Masters of man­kind [...] from whom the beginnings of so manie benefites are flowen. If I see ey­ther a Consull or a Pretor, I will doe all that which is vsually done in yeelding them honor & reuerence, I wil light off my horse, I wil put off my hat, and giue [Page 270] him the way: why then can I remember both the Catoes, wise Laelius, Socrates, Plato, Zeno and Cleanthes, without some great acknowledgement of honour? Truely I reuerence them, and hearing the greatnesse of these names, I alwayes arise to yeelde them honour.

EPIST. LXV.

He intreateth of the search of naturall things, Of cause and matter, and teacheth how much they are profitable, if they be moderately handled, and to a good end, that is of life: by these lifteth he vp his minde to God and honesty.

I Diuided yesterday into two parts; the one was for my selfe, the other for my sicknes, which vsurped all the fore-noone to it selfe, and left the after-noone for me: for which cause I first of all assayed the forces of my spirit in reading some booke. But I saw that hee tooke pleasure herein [...] I grew bolde to command him farre more, yea, I permitted him. I wrote therefore something with a greater care then I was accustomed, whilst I contend with a difficult matter, and will not be ouer­come, vntill such time as some of my friends came in vnto me, who withdrew me perforce, and reprehended me for a man intemperate in the time of my sick­nesse. In stead of writing [...] some discourse was set abroach, whereof I will relate vnto thee that part which is in question, wherin thou art made Vmpeire. Thou hast more businesse in hand then thou thoughtest of. Certaine it is, that there are three causes, & the Stoicks, as thou knowest, say, that there are two things in nature, whereof all other things are made, The Cause and the Matter: the matter remaineth idle; yet prepared to all things, which will not stirre, except it be moued. But the Cause, [...]hat is to say the reason, formeth the matter, and turneth it which way soeuer he list, and produceth out of it diuers works. There must be then some thing, wherof a thing may be made, and after that a meanes by which it is made. This is the Cause, that the Matter. All artes are the imita­tion of Nature; and therefore all that which I haue said of the world, may be transferred to these, which are to be made by man. A statue had a matter that should receiue the workmanship, and an artizan that should giue form vnto th [...] matter. Therefore in the statue the matter was brasse, and the cause the work­man: all other things are of the same and alike condition. They take their Es­sence from that whereof they are made, and of him which maketh them. The Stoicks say that there is but onely one cause, namely that which maketh. But Aristotle saith, that the cause may be said after three manners. The first cause, saith he, is the matter it selfe, without which nothing may be made: the second is the workeman: the third is the forme, that is annexed to any worke whatsoe­euer as vpon a statue: for Aristotle calleth it [...], that is to say, an Image. There is yet another (saith he) which is annexed for the fourth, which is the designe and intention of the whole worke [...] I will tell thee more plainly what it is: The Brasse is the first cause of the statue; for it had neuer beene made, if that where­of it was founded and drawne had not beene. The second cause is the worke­man: for this Brasse could not haue fashioned it selfe into the forme of a statue, if some skilfull artist had not beene imployed therein. The third cause is the forme; for neither should this statue be called Doriphoras or Diadumenus, ex­cept this forme had beene expressed in the same. The other fourth cause is, the [Page 271] purpose and intention wherefore it was made; for without it [...] it had not beene made. And what is this intention? It is the same that inuited the work-master, that it is which he followed: it is then either siluer, if he made i [...] to sell [...] or glory, if he made it for reputation; or his deuotion and pi [...]tie, if he would giue it for a present to a Temple. This fourth cause then is that for which it is made. Thinkest thou that amongst the causes of a wo [...]k which hath beene made, that we ought not to count that without which it could not be made? To these doth Plato annex a [...]i [...]t, which he calleth Idea [...] for this is the example or pattern, on which the workman casting his eyes, doth that which he had destinated and determined to doe; and it skilleth not whether he haue his patte [...]ne abroad whereunto he referreth his eye, or within, in his fancie which he hath conceiued and placed in himselfe. God hath the patternes and examples of all things in himselfe. He hath conceiued in his vnderstanding the members and fashions of all that which should be made by him: he is full of all those formes and fi­gures, which Plato calleth Ideas [...] which are immortall, immutable, and indefati­gable. So that although men die, yet humaniti [...] vpon which man is made, re­maineth: and although men become sicke, and doe die, yet that suffereth no­thing. There are then fiue causes according to Plato; That whereof, that by which, that whereby, that whereto, and that wherefore. In the last place [...] in the worke which is made of these things, as in a statue (because of it w [...] haue begun to speake) that whereof is the brasse, that by which is the workman, that where­by is the forme that is giuen vnto it, that whereto is th [...] patterne which the workeman imitateth, that wherefore is the designe and intention of him that made it, and that which is composed of all these is the statue. All these things the world hath also, as Plato sayth. The workeman is God, that which is made is the matter, and the forme is the fashion, and the order which we see in this world [...] the pattern and example is that whereon God hath formed the greatnes of this faire worke; the intention is the designe for which he made it. Askest thou me what Gods intention was? His goodnesse. Truely Plato saith so. What cause had God to make the world? He is good [...] he hath made good things. He that is good enuieth not any thing which is good: and therefore he hath m [...]de the best that he could. Giue now thy iudgement hereupon, and pronounce who he is, that in thy opinion hath most neerely aimed at the truth, not who hath said the truth, for that is far beyond our apprehension, as the truth it self. But this great multitude of causes, set downe by Aristotle and Plato, eyther com­prehend ouer much or too little. For if they thinke that the cause to make a thing, be al that without which nothing may be made, they haue set down too few causes; they should nominate time, for nothing can be done without time; they should set downe place, for if there be not a place where a thing should be done, it cannot be made. They should put downe motion [...] without which no­thing is made, nothing perisheth: moreouer, there is not any art or change without motion. But here seeke we the first and generall cause. This should be wholly simple, because the matter is simple. We aske what this cause is? It is the reason that maketh, that is to say God. And by this reason that I tolde you, there are not diuers and particular causes; but they depend wholly vpon one, that is on that which maketh. Thou sayest that forme likewise is one of the causes, and that it is it which the workeman putteth vpon his worke: it is a part but not a cause. The patterne also or example is not a cause, it is a necessarie in­strument of the cause, so is the patterne necessarie to the workeman, as the po­lishing iron, or the fyle, for without them art can profit nothing: yet are they [Page 272] not parties, or causers of the art. The intention of the work-man (saith he) for which he vndertaketh to make anie thing is a cause; yet though it were a cause it should not be efficient but accessarie. Now these causes are innumerable, but we dispute of a generall cause: vndoubtedly they haue not spoken with their accustomed subt [...]lty, when they haue said that this whole world and this worke so well finished, was the cause: for there is a great difference betwixt the worke and the cause of the worke. Pronounce then thy sentence, or say (as it is more [...]asie in matters that are doubtfull) that this question is not yet in state to [...] iudged, and so dismisse vs. Thou wilt say vnto me, what pleasure doest thou conceiue in lo [...]ing thy time after these things, which cannot disburthen thee of any passion, not master any couetousnesse? For mine owne part, first of all I discourse of that which may settle my minde in repose, and I rather enquire a [...] ­ter my selfe then the world or this Vniuerse Doing this I loose not my time as thou thinkest. For all these discourses, if they be not cut off, if they be not drawn to vnprofitable subtilties, do an [...]mate and raise the minde, which feeling it selfe pressed with a heauie burthen, desireth nought else but to deliuer her selfe, and to returne to those places where she hath beene. For this bodie is but a bur­then and prison of the soule. She is wearied with the burthen, she is in bon­dage, if Philosophie come not to succour her. But she hath commanded her to breathe in the contemplation of nature, and hath permitted her to forsake the earth, and annex her selfe to diuine things. This is the libertie she hath, this is her refectorie; meane while she issueth out of prison where she is d [...]tained, and goes to recreate her selfe in heauen. Euen as worke [...]men, who haue long time held their eyes fixed vpon any subtill worke, and wearied them thereupon, e­specially if they labour in some obscure place, and with little light, goe out into the open aire, and seeke out some publique place, where the people are accusto­med to disport themselues, & recreate their sight in the cleere light of the day [...] so the mind, imprisoned in this darke and obscure receptacle, as often as it may, seekes libertie, & reposeth it selfe in the contemplation of the works of nature. A wise-man, & he that followeth wisdom, is in some sort tyed to his bodie, but is absent from the same in his best part, and addresseth his best thoughts to high and sublime matters, and as if he had taken the oath of a souldier, he maketh ac­count, that the time that his life lasteth is his pay or wages: and in such sort is he reformed and resolued, that hee beareth neyther loue nor hatred to his life, and patiently suffereth all transitorie things, although hee know that a greater good remaineth hereafter. Wouldest thou interdict me the contempla­tion of all things in nature, and retiring me wholly, restraine me to one onely thing? Shall I not search what the beginnings of all things are? Who it is that formed them? Who it was that distinguished all that which was confuse, and mixed in a masse in a matter idle and immoueable? Shall I not seeke who it was that made this world? By what wisedome this incredible greatnesse of the V­niuerse hath receiued his lawes and his order? Who it is that hath gathered to­gether so many things that were scattered? Who hath seperated those that were confused? Who hath diuided the beautie amongst those things which were hidden vnder an abiect deformity? Whence commeth this so great light? Is it fire, or any thing more resplendent then fire? Should I not enquire after these things? Shal I not know whence I descended? or whether I shall see them but once or diuers times? Shall I not know whither I must returne, and what place attendeth my soule, after it shal be deliuered from this humane seruitude? Wilt thou hinder me from mounting to heauen, that is to say, Wilt thou com­mand [Page 273] me to liue abiectly? I am more great, and borne for greater things, then to be a slaue to my bodie, ouer which I neuer fixe mine eyes, but as on the chaines that hold me prisoner, and restraine me from my liberty. It is my bodie which I expose to Fortune, to withstand her assaults: I permit not any wound to passe thereon, that may afflict my soule. All that which may subiect it selfe, or suffer iniurie in me, is but this prison of mine, abiect and slauish; the soule that remaineth therein is free. Neuer can this flesh of mine make me per­take any feare, nor vse any cowardize, vnderualuing a good man, nor to lie to doe honor to this miserable bodie. When it pleaseth me, I will breake the company I haue with him. And now although we are vnited together, we wil not be companions vpon equall tearmes. The soule will say that all appertai­neth to her. The contempt of her bodie is her true libertie. But to returne to my purpose. Truely the contemplation of that we spake of late, may serue very much to this libertie. That is to say, that all things are composed of mat­ter and of God. God gouerneth all these things, which being spread round a­bout him, follow their Gouernour and their Chiefe. And God, who is he that maketh, is more powerfull then the matter which suffereth the forme that God will giue vnto it. The same place that God obtaineth in the world, the same hath the soule in the bodie. That which the matter is to God, the same is the bodie to vs. The Inferiour therefore ought to enioy the Superiour. Let vs be firme and constant against Fortune, and let vs not feare or tremble at iniuries, wounds, imprisonment or pouertie. What is death? Either it is the end, or a passage: neither feare I to cease to be, for it is the same, as if I had neuer beene, nor to passe, because in no place shall I bee lodged more straitly.

EPIST. LXVI.

That CLARANVS is old, but liuely, and that in bodie he was deformed, but in minde honest. He careth not for the house wherein he dwelleth. The diffence of goods a­mong the Stoicks, and that all things are equall. What then? Are ioy and patience the same? They are so in regard of vertue, not of matter. And that externall things also giue not any augmentation of good. These things handleth he copiously, distinct­ly and excellently. O let vs reade it, and apply the same.

I Haue seene Claranus my companion in studie, whom of long time before I had not seene. Thou expectest not, in my opinion, that I should tell thee he is old, but at least as yet hath he his spi­rits liuely and vigorous, and such as striue with his little body. To speake the truth, Nature hath done amiss [...], to lodge so faire a minde in so foule an hostrie. Or else, it may be, she had an intent to teach vs, that the strongest and blessedest minde might hide it selfe vnder any skin, what­soeuer [...] Yet hath he ouercome all impediments, and through the contempt of himselfe hath he attained [...]o farre, as to contemne all other things. In my opi­nion, he deceiued himselfe, that said,

Vertue is farre more gracious, getting place
Vnder the conuert of a comely face.

[Page 274] For she hath no need of any forren ornament, she deriueth her dignitie from her selfe, and maketh the bodie which she possesseth, holy and sacred. Truely I began to behold my friend Claranus very neerely, and in my iudgement hee seemeth very faire, and as well learned in bodie, as confirmed in minde. A great man may issue from a sheepe-coate, and a vertuous and faire soule may be clo­sed in a deformed and base bodie. And Nature, in my opinion, expressely cau­seth some to be borne after this manner, to make vs see, that vertue may be lod­ged in all places, if possibly shee could haue brought foorth naked soules, shee would haue done it. But now doth shee farre more disproportioned in na­ture, notwithstanding ouercome these impediments. Claranus, as I suppose, was made to serue for a patterne, and to let vs see, that the soule cannot be defi­led by the deformitie of the bodie, and that the bodie may receiue ornam [...]nt by the beautie of the soule. But although we haue remained very few day [...]s to­gether, yet notwithstanding diuers discourses passed betweene vs, which I will orderly digest, and afterwards send vnto thee. The first day the question was, how goods should be equall, since there was a three-fold condition of them. Some of these goods, as our Philosophers say, are placed in the first ranke, name­ly, ioy, peace, and felicitie of the Country. The other are in the second, which neuer make themselues knowne, but in a miserable subiect, as patience in the middest of torments, and temperance in a great sicknesse. We desire that the first should befall vs euery day, and the second when need requireth. There is also a third sort, as to walke modestly and grauely, to carrie a modest counte­nance, and vse the gestures and behauiours of a wise man. How is it then, that these goods may be equall among themselues, since we are to desire the one, and depart from the other? If we will distinguish, let vs returne to the first, and consider what it is. A soule that fixeth his eyes vpon the truth, that knoweth that which she ought to eschew or desire, that priseth all things, not by opinion, but by the lawes of Nature, that intermixeth it selfe a middest this great vniuers, and [...]ixeth her contemplation vpon the effects thereof, that is, incessantly occu­pied in thinking and doing, that is, as great as she is vehement, that suffereth not her selfe to be ouercome, neither by aduerse, or pleasing things, that submitteth not, neither to the one nor to the other fortune, that is, eminent aboue all things that may happen or befall her, that is, faire with a good grace, that hath her strength accompanied with health and sobrietie, that is, neuer affrighted nor astonished, whom no violence can shake, whom Fortune cannot raise or de­presse. Such is the vertue of the soule, such is her face, if she might expresse her selfe at once, and might wholly and at once discouer her selfe to our sight: yet many differences hath she in her selfe, which discouer themselues in the diuer­sitie of life, and his actions; and yet becommeth she neither more great nor more small then she is. For the soueraigne good may not decrease, neither hath ver­tue power to goe back-ward, yet changeth she in diuers qualities, and confor­meth her selfe according to the habit of those things she will do. She changeth and trans [...]igureth into her likenesse all that which she toucheth; she maketh the actions, amities, and sometime whole houses where she entereth, and which she hath vnder her gouernment, honorable: all that which she manageth, she maketh amiable, admirable, and resplendent; & therfore her force and greatnes cannot be raised higher, because that which is greatest cannot receiue encrease. Thou shalt finde nothing more iust, then that which is iust, nothing more true, then that which is true; nothing more temperate, then that which is tempe­rate. Constancie findeth nothing that may aduance it, no more then Confi­dence, [Page 275] veritie, or Faith. What thing is that, which may be added to a perfect thing? Nothing nor if any thing might be annexed, it is not perfect: therefore not to Vertue also, for if any thing might be annexed, it were deficient. Hone­stie also cannot receiue any augmentation. For honestie is in the same ranke with other things, which I haue spoken of But what shall we say of that which is decent, of that which is iust, and of that which is lawfull? Thinkest thou not that they are of the same forme, and comprehended vnder certaine limits. To haue power to encrease, is a signe of an imperfect thing. All sorts of good are subiect to the same lawes, the priuate and publike pro [...]it are ioyned toge­ther, and truely inseparable in such sort, that one may not separate that which is praise-worthie, from that which is to be desired. Vertues therefore are equall and alike betweene themselues, as also their effects are, and all men to whom they befall. But the vertues of vegitables and liuing creatures, because they are mortall, fraile; fluxible, and vncertaine, arise and fall, and therefore are they not esteemed in the same reckoning. But humane vertues haue but one onely measure. For there is but one right and simple reason. Nothing is more diuine then that which is diuined, nor more celestiall then that which is celestiall. As touching mortall things, we see that they are sometimes high, sometimes low, that sometimes they are abased and encreased, exhausted and replenished. And therefore in so vncertaine a condition they are vnequall; but things that are di­uine, are of the same nature. But reason is no other thing but a part of the diuine spirit, infused and plunged in our humane bodies: if therefore reason be di­uine, and that there is not any good without reason, all goods of what kinde so­euer are diuine; but there is no difference betwixt diuine things, therefore not betweene goods. Ioy therefore, and a stout and obstinat sufferance in torments are equall, for in both there is the same greatnes of minde, but in the one more remisse and relenting, in the other more withstanding and intent. What? thin­kest thou not his vertue is great, that s [...]outly entereth his enemies citie, as his that patiently sustaineth the siege? Scipioes courage is great, which holdeth Num [...]ntia, so closely besieged and beleagred, that constrained that inuincible na­tion, to make away themselues by their owne hands: and great is the minde of of those besieged, that know that nothing is shut vp from him to whom death is open, and that expireth in the embracing of his libertie. The like equall are the rest also among themselues, tranquillity, simpliciticy, liberality constan­cie, equanimity, sufferance: for in all these, there is but one vertue that maketh the minde vpright and immutable. What then? is there no difference betwixt ioy and the inflexible patience of paines: none at all in regard of the vertues themselues, much in respect of those things, in which both the vertues are ex­emplified. For in the one there appearth a recreation and repose of spirit, in the other a griefe contrarie to nature. These subiects then are the meanes, which receiue betweene them a great difference. But the vertue is equall both in the one, and in the other. The matter changeth not the vertue. That which is distastefull and difficult cannot make it worse, neither that which is ioyfull and agreeable better. It followeth then, that both the one and the other of these goods are equall. For this man cannot beare himselfe more vertuously in his ioy, nor the other in his torments, and truely two things in which nothing may be bettered, are equall. For if those things which are placed out of vertue, ei­ther can diminish or encrease the same, that ceaseth to be one good which is ho­nest. If thou grant this, all honestie perisheth. Why? I will tell thee: Because there is nothing honest, that is, done either by an vnwilling man, or by him [Page 276] that is enforced: all honestie is voluntarie; if thou mixe with it slothfulnesse, complaints, refusals, and feare, he hath lost all that is good in it selfe, to please himselfe. It cannot be honest, which is not free, for that which feareth is in bondage. But that which is honest is equally assured, and full of peace and re­pose. If he refuseth any thing, if he weepeth, if he iudgeth that it is euill, hee entereth into some perturbation, and feeleth a great discord in his soule. For on the one side, the appearance of good calleth him, & on the other the feare of euill retireth him. Thus he that will do any thing with honor, ought to iudge, that nothing of that which opposeth it selfe against his wil, is euil, although it be incommodious. All that which is honest, ought to be effected, without another mans command or constraint. It is pure and sincere, and no waies intermedled with any other euill. I know well what a man may answere me heere. Thou endeuourest to perswade vs this, that there is no difference whether any man be in ioy, or lie in torture, and wearie his executioner. I might answere that which Epicurus saith, That a wise man would crie out with a loude voice, al­though he were [...]o asted in Phalaris bull: O how sweet is this torment, and how little appertaineth it to me? Why wonderest thou, if I say, that the good of him that is seated in the middest of a banquet, and of that other, which remaineth and standeth firme and constant amiddest the torments, are equall, whereas (which is farre more incredible) Epicurus saith) that it is a sweet thing to be tor­tured. But I answere thereunto, that there is a great difference betwixt ioy and dolour. For if I should be put to my choice, I would demand the one, and flie the other: the one is amicable to Nature, the other is contrarie. As long as they are esteemed after this rate, they are very different betweene themselues: but when we come vnto vertue, both the one and the other are equall, as well that which maketh his way by ioy, as the other that maketh it by sorrow. Vexati­on, griefe, and whatsoeuer other incommoditie are of no moment, for they are surmounted by Vertue. Euen as the clearenes of the Sunne extinguisheth the lesser lights: euen so paines, afflictions and iniuries, are dissipated and abated by vertue; which, in what place soeuer shee shineth, extinguisheth all that which appeareth not to be enlightned by her. And those paines and incom­modities that fall vpon vertue, haue no more power ouer her, then a little raine ouer the sea. But to the end thou mayest beleeue that this is true, a good man will runne without any cunctation to euery faire thing, although the hang­man be there, the torture be prepared, the fire be enkindled, hee perseuereth, he will not bethinke him of that he must suffer, but on that which he ought to doe. He will cast himselfe vpon an honest thing, as betwixt the armes of a good man, he will make account that it is profitable, assured, and full of good happe. An honest thing therefore shall haue the same place and credit with him, al­though it be heauie and troublesome, as a good man should haue, although he were poore, banished and sicke. Well then, set me on one side a good man full of riches, and on the other side, one that hath nothing at all, and yet notwith­standing, hath all things in himselfe; the one shall bee as good a man as the o­ther, although their fortunes be different. The same reckoning ought a man to make in all things, as he doth of men: Vertue is as laudable in a healthfull and free bodie, as in a sicke and imprisoned. Thy vertue then shall be no lesse praise­worthie, if Fortune hath conserued thy bodie in health, & without harme, then if it were maimed in some member. Otherwise it were to praise the Master by his mens liueries. For al these things on which Fortune exerciseth her power are base and seruile, as are riches, the bodie & honors, they are weak, fraile, mortall, [Page 277] and possessed with vncertaintie. Contrariwise, the workes of vertue are free and inuincible, the which are not to be wished for more, when they are sauou­red by any flattering fortune, nor lesse also when they are followed with some disaster. That which we call friendship towards men, is a desire and couetous­nesse towards good things. I suppose thou wouldst not rather prise a good rich man for his wealth; then thou wouldest do a poore man, nor a strong and migh [...]tie man, then a feeble and weake man. By the same reason, thou wouldest not rather wish a faire and peaceable thing, then that thing which is painfull and la­borious. And if it be so of the two that should be equally good, thou haddest rather like of him that should be neate and perfumed, then him that should be slouenly and vncombed: In fine, thou wouldest come thus farre, that thou wouldest more loue a man that were complete in all his members, that had ne­uer beene hurt, then a weake and spur-blinde fellow. Briefly, by little and little thy disdaine would increase so farre, that of the two that should be equally sage and iust, thou haddest rather haue him that were faire locked and frisled, then him that is disguised and balde. When the vertue both of the one and the o­ther is equall, the inequalitie of other things appeareth not. Because all these o­ther things are not partes, they are but accessaries. For who is hee that would make so iniust an esteem amongst his children, that he would make better reck­ning of him that were whole, then of him that were sick: of him that were great and high of stature, more then of him that were low and little? Wilde beas [...]s di­stinguish not their yong ones, they couch themselues on the ground to nourish them altogether: birds doe equally distribute their meat to their young Vlysses maketh as great hast to see his rockes of Ithaca, as Agamemnon his noble walles of Mecaenae. For no man loueth his countrey because it is great, but because it is his owne. But whereto tend these things? To the end that thou mayest know, that vertue carrieth an equall eye and regard on all her workes, as on her pro­per children, that she loueth all of them alike, and those farre more tha feele a­nie paine, because the loue of fathers extendeth more towards those, on whom they haue most compassion. In like manner vertue beareth not lesse affection to those her workes, which she seeth suffer more affliction and torment, but fol­lowing the custome of good parents, she embraceth and cherisheth them the more. But why is it that one good cannot be greater then another? Because there is nothing more apt then that which is apt, nor nothing more full then that which is full. Thou canst not say that this is more like vnto a thing then that, consequently there is nothing more honest then that which is honest. So then, if the nature of vertue be all alike, all the three sorts of goods are equall. And therfore I say that it is all one to be moderate in ioy, and moderate in pain. Ioy surmounteth not the constancie of the soule, that deuoureth his complaints vnder the crueltie of a hang-man. The one of these goods are to be desired, the other to be admired; yet both of them are equall: for all that which is ill is co­uered vnder the cloake of a more greate good. He that should be of an opini­on that these two things were not equall, he should shew that he would neuer cast his eyes vpon vertue, and that hee onely regarded exterior things. True goods haue the same waight and greatnesse, both the one and the other. But the false are vaine and deceiueable. Therefore it is that those goods that seeme so faire and so great to the exterior eye, deceiue vs when they are brought to their touch and waight. This is true, my Lucilius, all that which reason and vertue praiseth and priseth, it is firme, it is eternall, it maketh the soule assured, and lifteth it vp to heauen, to remaine there euerlastingly. But the goods which [Page 278] we commend without reason, and that haue their onely being in vulgar iudge­ment, doe but fill them with winde, that reuiue in them. Contrariwise, that which a man feareth as euill, doth but affright our minds, and terrifie the same no otherwise then apprehension of some danger troubleth beasts. All these things then doe recomfort the soule, or torment it without reason: for neyther is the one worthie of any ioy, nor the other of any feare. There is nought but onely reason, which is immutable and constant in her iudgement; for shee o­beyeth not, but commandeth the senses. Reason is equall with reason, as right to that which is right. Vertue then is the like; for she is nought else but right reason. All vertues are rightfull reasons, if they be rightfull they are equall. Such as the reason is, such are the actions. Therefore all are equall: for since they are like vnto reason, they are also like betweene themselues. And those a­ctions terme I equall betweene themselues, which are vpright and honest. But yet they shall be much different, by reason of the varying of the matter, which is now more ample, now more sparing, now more worthie, now more ignoble, now pertayning to many, now vnto few. And notwithstanding in all those things, that which is the best is equall. Euen as amongst good men, all are equall as they are good men, yet haue they some differences in age, the one is elder, the other younger; they haue difference in bodie, the one is faire, the other defor­med; they differ in fortune, this is rich, that is poore: he is gratious, powerfull, knowne to Cities and Nations, this vnknowne to many and obscure. But in that they are good, they are equall. The sense iudgeth not of good and euill: it knoweth what is profitable, and is ignorant of that which is vnprofitable: hee cannot giue his aduice, but of that which is represented before his eyes: he can­not foresee those things that are to come to passe, neither haue remembrance of that which is forepassed; lesse knoweth he that which may ensue: notwithstan­ding, thereupon dependeth the order and successe of things, and all the constan­cie of life, which should be right and perfect. Reason then is it that iudgeth of good and euill, that maketh no account of forraine matters, which come exter­nally, and that thinketh that those things which are neither good nor euill, to be some small and light increasing [...] all good to him is in the mind. Moreouer, there are certaine things which she placeth in the first ranke, to which she pur­posely commeth, as to a victorie, to wise children and well borne, and the health of his countrey. There are other goods of the second degree, which are not knowne but in aduersities, as to suffer a sicknesse or banishment patiently. And certaine other indifferent, which neuerthelesse are more friendly then contrary to nature: as to walke modestly, and to keepe a graue countenance when a man sitteth. For it is a thing as naturall to sit as to stand, or to walke. But the two first are much different the one from the other; for the first are according to nature, that is to say, to reioyce at the pietie of his children, and the felicitie of his coun­trey. The second are against nature; to sustaine torments with a great constan­cie and endure thirst, when as the infirmitie burneth the entrailes. What shall it then be? Is there any thing contrarie to nature that may be called good? No truely. But this good is often found in a thing which is enemie to nature: for to be hurt, to be dried and consumed in the fire, to be afflicted with a sicke­nesse is against nature, but to conserue a mans soule in such harmonie, that she is not wearied to suffer torments, this is friendly to nature. What is reason then? It is an imitation of nature. What is mans chiefest good? It is to doe all things according to natures will. It is vndoubted (saith he) that a peace which hath neuer beene interrupted, is better then that which hath beene gotten with effu­sion [Page 279] of bloud. There is no doubt (saith he) but that health which neuer hath beene shaken, is better and more happie, then that we haue recouered perforce, and by a long patience of a sickenesse that threatned vs with death: In like man­ner it is not to be doubted, but that ioy is a greater good, then a soule subiect to suffer torments, wounds, and fire, yet are these things nothing. For those things that happen casually receiue a great difference, because they are esteemed by the pro [...]ite of those that receiue them. The intention and end of good men is to consent vnto nature. She is equall in all. When as the whole Senate followeth the opinion of one man: a man cannot say, This man is better aduised then the other; for all of them haue followed that opinion. I say the same by ver­tues; all of them consent vnto nature: I say the same by good men; all o [...] them consent vnto nature. One is dead young, another olde: some one moreouer is dead in infancie, that hath enioyed no other good then to haue the onely sight of life: all these were equally subiect to die, although death hath suffered some of them to liue more long, and that to others she hath cut off the threed of life, euen in the flower of their age, and hath interrupted the beginnings and birth of some other. One dieth in the middest of his supper, to another his sleepe and death hath beene but one, and some also haue been strangled amiddest the em­braces of their minions. Adde also to these, those that are dead by the sword, or haue beene slaughtered by the sting of Serpents, or that haue beene crushed to death vnder some ruine, or that are dead through a long conuulsion of their sinewes, that by little and little hath tortured them. A man may say that the end of some is better, and of others is worse. But the death of them all is equall. The meanes whereby they come thereunto are diuers; but the point where they ended is but one. There is not any death more great, the one then the o­ther: for she hath one and the same measure in all persons, that is to put an end to life. I say the like of goods; one of these goods nourisheth it selfe, betwixt pleasures and delights, and the other sealeth nothing but aduersities and disa­sters. Some one hath gouerned at his pleasure the sweetnes of a good fortune, and another hath euer borne the force of a tyrannie: yet both the one and the other goods are wholly equall, although the one hath not martched but by plaine and easie pathes, and the other by places both tedious and dangerous. In briefe, the end of all is wholly a like. They are goods, they are praise-worthy, they follow vertue and reason: vertue maketh all things equall amongst them­selues, which she acknowledgeth. It behooueth thee not, amongst those opi­nions which I hold, to wonder hereat. In Epicurus opinion there are two sorts of goods, wherof this happie and soueraigne good is composed, which are, that the bodie be without paine, and the soule without passion and perturbation. Th [...]se goods increase not when they are compleate: for which way may that increase which is full? The bodie is without griefe; what may be added to this indolencie? The soule is peaceable, and in assured repose; what may be added to this tranquillitie? Euen as the cleere skie and the heauen appearing in his brightnesse cannot r [...]ceiue any more accomplished beautie: so the estate of a man that hath care of his bodie and of his soule, and will compound his good by the meanes, both of the one and the other, is wholly perfect; it hath attained the fulnesse of his desire, if he feeleth no tempest in his soule, nor trouble in his bodie. If anie other forraine contentments befall vs, they augment not any wayes this soueraigne good, but in a sort season the same, and make it pleasing. For this intirely perfect good of humane nature, contenteth it selfe with the placabilitie of bodie & soule: I will alleadge you from Epicurus himselfe, a diui­sion [Page 280] of goods wholly like vnto ours. For there are some with him that he had rather should happen vnto him, that is to say the repose of the bodie, free from all paine, and the contentment of the soule that may reioyce in the contempla­tion of her goods. There are others which he praiseth and approueth, although he could not wish, they should befall him, as that patience which I spake of late in a great sicknesse, and extreame dolours, which Epicurus supposed his last and fortunatest day of his life. For he said that he suffered torments in his bladder and in his vlcerated bellie, which could not receiue a more greate increase of dolour. And yet he esteemed that day the most happie. But nothing can make a man happie, but him that enioyeth the soueraigne good. There is then amidst Epicurus goods, such as thou wouldest not feele: but since fortune willeth that it must be so, we must embrace, prise, and praise the same as the greatest goods. A man cannot say but that the good which hath giuen a period to a happie life; and for which Epicurus in his last wordes, hath giuen thankes, is not euen and e­quall with the greatest goods. Permit me yet further, my Lucilius, to speake more boldly to thee: if any goods may be greater then others, I had rather fol­low those that were displeasant, then those that are gratious and delicate. For it is more honour to ouercome such things as are difficult, then to moderate those that are ioyfull. I know well by the same reason that it may be effected, that some one may entertaine his felicitie modestly, and his calamitie constant­ly. As valiant ought he to be esteemed that hath all night stood Sentinell in the Trenches, although the enemie hath not sallied to force the Campe, as hee that after his legges haue beene cut off, hath entertained the combate on his knees, and hath neuer forsaken his weapons. We say to those that ordinarily returne from the field, conquered with bloud, God increase your vertue. Therefore it is that I would alwayes praise those goods farre more continually, which are become constant by a continuall exercise, and that haue combated against for­tune. Should I make doubt rather to praise that roasted and maimed hand of Mutius, then the most healthsomest hand of the most valiant man that is he stood vpright, contemning his enemies and the flames, he beheld his hand that consumed and dropped thorow his enemies Torch, vntill at last Porsena enuied the glorie of him, at whose griefe in the beginning he took pleasure, and caused to his great disgust, the sire to be taken from him. Why should I not account this good amiddest the first and principall? Why should I not esteeme it farre more then those, which some enioy in so much securitie, without feare of for­tune, since it is a thing more rare to haue ouercome an enemie with a dried and wasted hand, then with a whole and well armed? But why, wilt thou say, woul­dest thou desire this good? Wherefore not? for there is not any one can do the like [...] but he that can wish the same. Should I wish rather to yeeld my feete to be softly rubbed by one of mine olde varlets, or to some woman, or to some one that from a man should become a woman, to stretch the ioynts of my little toes? Why should I not thinke Mutius more happie for managing the fire, in such sort as if he had stretched out his hand to any man [...] to rubbe him softly? He salued all the offence he had done, hee made an end of the warre disarmed and lame, and with that maimed hand he ouercame two Kings.

EPIST. LXVII.

After his small Preface, a question whether euery good is to be wished for. He saith that it is, yea euen that whose matter is in euills. As to be constantly burned, sicke, and whipped. Neither is the burning it selfe, a sicknesse, nor the whipping, but that, saith he; is to be wished for, to suffer the same stoutly and constantly. Againe, that Ver [...]ues are vnited together, and as one, so all. These also are worthy and befitting a stout and reall Stoick.

TO the end that I make the beginning of my letter, with those things that are common: the spring began to open it selfe, but as if it approched alreadie towards Summer, and at such time as it should be hot, it waxed warme. Neither as yet is it to be trusted, for oftentimes it returneth to Winter. Wilt thou know how vn­assured it is? As yet I dare not aduenture to bath my selfe in cold water, as yet doe I temper the cold thereof. This is, sayest thou, not to suffer either heat or cold. So it is, my Lucilius, mine age is contented enough with his coldnes, that scarcely may be thawed in the middest of summer. And therefore for the most part of the time, I lie couched on my mattresse. I thanke mine age that hath tied me to my couch. And why should I not giue it thankes for this? All that which I should not will, I cannot act. My greatest discourse is with my books: if at any time thy Epistles come betweene, me thinkes I am with thee, and so am I affected in minde, as if I did not write backe vnto thee, but answered thee face to face. And therefore will I entreate of that which thou demandest of me, as if I spake with thee. We will both of vs examine what this question is. Thou wilt haue me t [...]ll thee whether euery good be to be destred. If it bee good, sayest thou to endure torments couragiously and to suffer the fire with a great constancie, and to endure a sicknesse peaceably: it followeth that all that is to be desired, and yet see I nothing in it, that is worthy to be wished. True­ly, as yet know I not any man, that hath payed any vow he hath made for be­ing beaten with whips, or made lame by the gout, or made longer by the racke. Thou must, my Lucilius, make a distinction of these things, and then shalt thou finde t [...]at there is some point which may be wished for. I could well wish that torments should be alwaies estranged from me: but when of force I must needs feele the same, then would I wish that I might endure them vertuously, coura­giously, and honorably. Why should I not rather wish, that the war [...]e should neuer happen? But if it be proclaimed and begun, then would I wish, that with a generous courage I might suffer wounds, famine, and all that which the neces­sitie of warre bringeth with it. I am not so foolish, as that I would desire to bee sicke, but if it must so fall out, I would desire also that I might not do any thing intemper [...]tely, or effeminately. So the euils and incommodities are not to be desired, but the vertue whereby incommodities are suffered. Some of our Stoicks thinke, that the constancie and patience in torments and euils, neither ought to be desired nor detested. For when a man wisheth, he ought to desire a thing wholly peaceable, pure, and exempt from sorrowes [...] But I am not of their opinion. Wherefore? Because it cannot be that a thing should be good, and should not be desired. Furthermore, if vertue is to be desired, and if there be not any good without vertue, it followeth that all good is to be desired. A­gaine, if a constant patience in torments should not be desired. I aske thee a­gaine, [Page 282] is not Fortitude to be wished for? But she contemneth and prouoketh all perils. The fairest and most admirable part that is in it, is not to flie from a­ny flames, and to present himselfe to wounds, and sometimes not to auoide them, but to open his breast to receiue them. If then fortitude is to be desired, and patience in suffering torments is to be wished for, (for this is a part of forti­tude) but separate these things, as I said, there shall be nothing that shall de­ceiue thee. For to suffer torments, is not to bee wished for, but to suffer them couragiously. That courage wish I for, which is a vertue. Yet who euer wish­ed this to himselfe? Some vowes are open and professed, when they are parti­cularly made: some are obscured, when as many things are comprehended in one vow. As when I desire an honest life, but an honest life consisteth of diuers actions. In this is Regulus tombe, Catoes wound rent open by his owne hands. R [...]tilius banishment, the inuenomed cup that translated Socrates out of prison into heauen. So when I wished my selfe an honest life, I wished these things also, without which sometimes it cannot be honest.

O thrice and foure-times happy men were they,
That vnder Troy-towne walles dismembred lay,
Before their parents eyes.—

What difference makest thou, either that thou wishest it vnto any one, or that thou conf [...]ssest that it is to be desired? Decius made a vow to die for the Com­mon-weale, and seeking nought but death, galloped his horse into the swarmes of his enemies. Another after him, that emulated his fathers vertue, after hee had pronounced the solemne words, which were alreadie familiar vnto him, thrust himselfe mainely into the throng of his enemies, hauing no other care, but to bes [...]ch the gods to effect the intention of his vow, supposing that a good death was a thing to be desired. Doubtest thou then, that it is not a great good to die, to the end, to leaue a happie memorie of a man, and of some his vertu­ous enterprise? When any one endureth torments, constantly he employeth all vertues, although it may be he had but patience onely, which might appeare and shew it selfe. But there is Fortitude, whose patience, sufferance and tolle­rance are the branches. There is Prudence, without which no counsell is con­ceiued, which perswadeth to endure that valiantly, which thou canst not flie. There is Constancie, which cannot be deiected from her place, and giueth not ouer her resolution by no feare of torture. There is that inseparable societie of all the vertues. All that which is done honorably, one only vertue doth it, but it is by aduice of counsell. But that which is allowed by all vertues [...] although it seeme to be done by one, is to be desired. Why? Supposest thou that those things are only to be wished for, which come by pleasure and idlenesse? And that which we receiue from painted, tapissed, and adorned gates? There are some sad pleasures, and some vowes that are celebrated, not with reioyce, but with adoration and veneration of the the whole assembly. Thinkest thou not that in this kinde Regulus wished not to returne into the hands of the Cartha­ginians? Put vpon thee the minde of a generous and vertuous man, and separate thy self a little from the opinions of the common sort. Assume as faire and mag­ni [...]icent a forme of vertue as thou oughtest: which is to bee honored by vs, not with gauds and garlands, but with sweate and blood. Behold Marcus Cato, thru­s [...]ing his most pure hands into that his sacred brest, to enlarge his wound, which as yet was not sufficiently deepe, whether at length wouldest thou say vnto [Page 283] him, I would that which thou wouldest, and I am much grieued at that which thou doest. Happy be it vnto thee which thou doest. In this place our friend Demetrius commeth to my minde, who termed a secure life, and such a one as was not subiect to Fortunes incursions, the dead sea. For to haue nothing to awaken thee, nothing to moue thee, nothing by whose aduertisement and as­sault, thou mayest make triall of the firmitie of thy minde, but to liue alwaies in a repose which hath neuer been troubled, this is not a tranquillitie, but a calme, and relent of the sea. Attalus the Stoick was wont to say, I had rather that Fortune should nourish me in the campe, then in her delights. I suffer torments, but it is with constancie: this is well. I am massacred, but endure it constantly; this doth well. Heare moreouer what Epicurus saith: And sweete it is: I will neuer giue a delicate name to a thing so honest and seuere; I am burned, yet re­maine I inuincible: why should it not be desired [...] not that the fire burne me, but that it ouercome me not? There is nothing more worthie then Vertue. All that whatsoeuer; which is done by her direction and command, is good and desirable.

EPIST. LXVIII.

He perswadeth repose, but so as it [...]e ioyned with Philosophie. That we are not to boast thereof. And in it we are to entreate of our selues, with our selues, that is, to enquire of our vices, and to amend them. To conclude, that this repose is aboue all other af­faires, because it serueth the great Common-weale.

I Will be of thy minde; go to then, and retire and hide thy selfe in repose, or rather hide thou thy repose. If thou canst not learne this by the Stoicks precepts, at least thou shalt learne it by their example. But by their preceps also thou shalt learne it, which I will approue vnto thee when thou wilt. We send not ouer to e­uery Common-weale, neither alwayes, neither without any end. Moreouer, when we haue giuen a wise-man a Common-weale worthy of himselfe, that is to say, the world; he is not out of his Common-weale, although he be retired. But it may bee rather that forsaking a little corner, hee goeth into places more great and spacious, and lodging himselfe in heauen, he then vnderstandeth, that when he was mounted in his chaire, and in his throne, he was rather descended into a more base place. I will shut this secret in thy bosome. That a wise-man neuer profiteth so much, then when both humane and diuine things become the obiects of his eyes. I returne now vnto that which I began to perswade thee vnto, that is, that no man may know that thou wilt liue in repose. It be­houeth thee not to couer this resolution vnder the cloake of retirement, where­by thou mayest intend Philosophie. It were better thou shouldest obscure thine intent vnder some other title. Thou must call it sicknesse, feeblenes, idle­nesse. It is a foolish ambition to glorie in doing nothing. There are certaine beasts, which because they will not be tracted, confound their steps euen about that place where they lurke in. The like must thou doe; otherwise thou shalt not want them that will follow the quest of thee. There are many that passe before the gates of those that are opened, without entring into them, and peepe into the cranies of those those that are closed. The coffer that is closed, whet­teth on the theefe to breake it open, no man maketh reckoning of that which is [Page 284] vnlocked, and these lock-pickers assault not the doore that is open. These are the manners of the common people, and thus doth the most ignorant. They desire to enter forcibly into others mens secrets. It is therefore most expedient for a man not to boast of his retirement, and it is a kinde of boasting, to [...]e hid­den too much, and to sequester a mans selfe from the sight of the people. This man is locked vp in Tarentum, that man is retired in Naples, and that other man [...]or many yeares hath not ouerstrid his threshold. Vndoubtedly he [...] summo­neth the world to come and see him, that will suffer a report to passe of him through the citie, that he is retired. After thou hast retired thy selfe, thou must doe nothing that men may talke of thee; speake thou only with thy selfe. But what shalt thou talke with thy selfe? That which some men do willingly en­tert [...]ine of others. Haue alwayes an ill opinion of thy selfe. Accustome thy selfe [...] to speake the truth, and to heare it also. Aboue all things, speake thou of­ten of those imperfections which thou feelest in thy selfe. There is no man but knoweth his owne infirmities. Therefore it is that some man disburdeneth his stomacke by vomit, another stuffes it with continuall eating, another emptieth and weakeneth his bodie by the meanes of fast. Those that are often tortured with the paines of the gout, abstaine either from bathing themselues, or drin­king of wine. And without obseruance of any other manner of diet, they or­dinarily ouercome the sickenesse wherewith they are tormented. So likewise there are certaine parts in our soule, which are the causes of our infirmities, which how we ought to recouer, we diligently must bethinke our selues. What doe I in that repose I take? I cure mine vlcer. If I should shew thee my foote swolne, my hand wholly mortified, or the dried sinewes of my contracted leg, thou wouldest giue me leaue to lie in one place, and to take pitie and regard my griefe. But that euill which I cannot see is farre greater. It is an inflamation and aposteme which I haue in my brest. I will not that thou praise me, neither will I that thou say, O great man! Hee hath despised all things, and after hee hath condemned all the furies of humane life, hee is fled. Alas I haue condemned nothing but mine owne proper actions. Thou must not desire to come vnto me, to the end to profit thy selfe. Thou art deceiued, if hence thou expectest any succours. Heere dwels not the Physitian, but the patient. I had rather when thou art gone, thou shouldest say. I thought this man to be a happy and learned man, I gaue eare vnto him, I am deceiued, I heard nothing, I saw no­thing that I might desire, or that might allure me to returne againe vnto him. If this be thy opinion, if this be thy speech, I know thou hast profited somewhat; I had rather thou shouldest pardon my repose, then enuie it. What then Seneca, commendest thou repose of spirit vnto me? Thou growest an Epicure in thy opinon at length. I recommend vnto thee repose, to the end, that by the means thereof, thou mightest doe things more great and more excellent, th [...]n those which thou hast left behinde thee. To knocke at great mens gates, to keepe rec­koning of old men that haue no children: to haue great reputation in Court, is but a momenta [...]y power, and full of enuie [...] and if thou wilt speake truth, an abiect. This man farre surpasseth me in reputation amongst the Lawyers. He in his allowances and paies for seruice, and his dignities gotten thereby, he in the multitude of his clients, I cannot be so well followed as the one, nor reco­uer so great reputation as the other. But I ought not to make so great account to be ouercome by men, prouide alwaies that I may ouercome Fortune. Would to God that had beene thy minde heretofore, to haue followed this purpose. Would to God wee held not this discourse of happie life, vpon that instant, [Page 285] wherein death presenteth her selfe to our sight, yet let vs not delay for all this. For now beleeue we many things by experience, which we should haue belee­ued by the discourse of reason, to be both super [...]luous and harmefull. Let vs do like those that set forward on their iourney late, and that by diligence would re­couer the time which they haue lost, let vs pricke forward on the spurre. This age is as yet very proper to this studie: it is alreadie clensed from his skum: it hath alreadie left those vices which she could not conquer in the heate of her youth. There wanteth little, but that she hath wholly extinguished them. And when, saiest thou, shall this pro [...]it thee which thou learnest euen in the period of thy yeares, or to what intent? To this, that I may die the better: yet oughtest thou not to thinke that there is any age more proper vnto wisedome, then that which by long experience, and by a continuall and frequent sufferance of casual­ties hath mortified and ouercom her selfe; and which after it hath triumphed ouer her affections, hath attained to the knowledge of that which profiteth and concerneth her selfe. This is the true time of that good which remaineth but a little while [...] what man soeuer, and how olde soeuer hee be that hath attained wisedome, it is by his yeares that he hath compassed it.

EPIST. LXXIX.

That places are not to be changed, but that we ought to be more reposed in bodie, to the end the minde may be more pacified. That we are to fixe the same on a wholsome studie, and to auoyde those things which distract vs.

I Will not that thou change countries, or transport thy selfe from one place to another, first, because so often change is a token of an instable and vnsetled minde. Thou canst neuer make profite of thy retirement, vnlesse thou giue ouer trauell, and wandring from countrey to countrey. If thou wilt settle thy minde, limit thy bodie in some place; then will thy continued remedies profite thee much. Thou must not breake the repose or forgetfulnes of thy former life: suffer thine eyes to forget; suffer thine eares to accustome themselues to wholsome coun­sailes. As oft-times as thou shalt walke in the streets, thou shalt [...]inde in passing by, something that may renue thy affections. Euen as he that would despoile himselfe of loue, ought to flie the remembrance of that beautie, which he hath loued: so he also that will discharge himselfe of the affection of all things, of that desire wherewith he burned in times past, he must retire both his eyes and eares from that he hath forsaken. Affection reuolteth suddenly: on which side soe­euer she turne her selfe, she shall finde a readie recompence of her employment. There is no euill without reward. Auarice promiseth vs money, lust manie and diuers pleasures, ambition the purple and applause, and thereby power and authoritie, and whatsoeuer authoritie may doe. Vices sollicite thee with re­wards, but here must thou liue without taking any thing. Scarce can it be effe­cted in a whole age, that those vices which haue had their increase by so long libertie, should be subdued & brought in subiection [...] much lesse may it be done, if we diuide the time which is so short, into little parcels. Hardly can continuall watch and labour bring one onely thing to perfection. Truely, if thou wilt li­sten to me meditate hereupon, exercise thy selfe to receiue death, and to seeke her out when any occasion shall counsaile thee thereunto. It skils not whether [Page 286] she come to vs, or we to her, perswade thy selfe that the foolish mens prouerbe and vsuall speech is false; It is a faire thing to die a good death. Thou mayst beside this thinke thus with thy selfe: No man dieth but on his prefixed time: thou loosest none of thy time; for that which thou leauest behinde thee is another mans.

EPIST. LXX.

That by the sight of the POMPEIES, and the admonishment of time past, he thought vpon the swiftnesse and slight thereof. That death is at hand, which is the hauen of troubles. That she is neyther to be [...]eared nor desired, or intertained but sometimes, and when? When reason not violent passion perswadeth. Many and most excellent things to this purpose.

AFter a long space of time I haue seene thy Pompeies, and in seeing them me thought that I had recouered againe my former youth: all whatsoeuer I had done there whilst I was a young man, me thought I could as yet doe it, and that but a little while since I did it. Wee saile by our life, my Lucilius, and as in the Sea, as our Virgil saith;

The shores and Citties flie.

So likewise in this so swift course of time, we lose the sight, first of our childe­hood, and after of our youth, and then whatsoeuer intercurreth betwixt youth and old age, which is con [...]ined both to the one and to the other, anon after also the better yeares of our olde age. In the last place the common end of all hu­mane race beginneth to discouer it selfe. Are we so foolish to thinke that it is a rocke? It is the Port which we ought one day to desire, and neuer to refuse; into which, if any man hath beene cast and carried in his young yeares, he ought not to complain, no more then he would, that with a short cut hath ended his Na­uigation. For as thou knowest there are some whom s [...]acker winds mocke and detaine, and wearie with gentle tediousnesse of a peaceable calme, some are swiftly borne away by a sudden gust. Thinke that the same befalleth vs. Life hath brought and rauished some very swiftly thither, whether although they would haue delayed, they must needs come. Othersome hath she pined and burned, which as thou knowest are not alwaies to be retained; for it is not good to liue, but to liue well. And therefore a wise-man liueth as much as he ought, not as much as he can. He will alwayes see in what place he ought to liue, with what persons, in what manner, and what he ought to doe. If diuers troubles and sorrowes suddenly surprise him, to the intent to intercept his peace, he ope­neth the prison himselfe [...] neither doth he this onely in a desperate extreamity, but as soone as he hath the least suspicion of fortune, he taketh a diligent heede whether that day should be his last or no. He makes no great reckoning, whe­ther by his own hand [...] or another mans hatred he receiue his death, or whether it be sooner or later. He feareth not as if he were endangered to lose much; no man can haue great losse of water by a dropping Ewer. It skils not whether a man die sooner or later: to die eyther well or ill, that importeth much; and to die well is to flie the perrill of an euill life. Therefore thinke I that Rhodians speech most e [...]feminate, who by a Tyrant being cast into a caue, and nourished [Page 287] thereof after the manner of a wilde beast, being perswaded by some to abstaine from his meate, answered, A man ought to hope for all things whilst he liueth. But suppose this were true, yet ought we not buy life an euery rate. There are cer­taine things, which although they are good, although they are certaine, yet would I not attaine them by a confession of feeblenesse and faintnesse of heart. Shal I beleeue that fortune hath power in all things ouer him that liueth, rather then suppose, that fortune can do nothing ouer him that knoweth how to die? Yet sometimes, although assured death be dependent, and that a man know that a punishment is de [...]tinated for him, yet must [...]e not set ha [...]d and further his punishment. It is a follie to die through the feare of death: Comes he that should kill thee? Expect him. Why puttest thou thy selfe forward? Why vn­dertakest thou the charge of another mans crueltie? Dost thou enuie thy hang­man, the officer to execute thee, or wilt thou spare his labour? Socrates could haue ended his daies by his absence, & might haue rather died for hunger then of venome; yet remained he full thirtie dayes in prison, attending his death, not with this minde, that all things might be pacified, or that so long a time might intertaine so many hopes, but that hee might yeelde himselfe vnto the lawes, and suffer his friends to enioy Socrates, euen vntill his last. But what more great follie could haue beene seene, then to despise death and to feare prison? Scribonia a woman of great authoritie, was aunt on the fathers side to Drusus Libo, a young man, who had as weake braine as his descent was noble, and that hoped for farre more greate fortunes, then any other might hope for in that time, or himselfe in any other time after; when as he was borne away from the Senate in his Litter, not with frequent obseruances (for all his neerest friends had forsaken him shamefully, not as a guiltie, but a conuicted person and execu­ted) he began to aske counsaile whether he should hasten his death by his own hands, or expect the same. To whom Scribonia: What pleasure hast thou, said she, to finish that which another ought to execute? But she could no wayes per­swade him. He murthered himselfe with his owne handes, and not without cause: for being assured that within three or foure dayes after, if he had beene found aliue, he should die that death whatsoeuer was best liking to his enemie, he finished that which another man should haue executed. Thou canst not then make a generall iudgement, when as the violence of a forraine tyrant de­nounceth thee death; whether thou oughtest to further or expect the same. For there are diuers reasons, which draw vs both to the one and the other opi­nion. If the one death should be accompanied with torments, and the other should be simple and facile: why should I not allow of that? Euen as I would chuse a ship to saile in [...] and a house to dwell in; in like manner would I chuse the better death to depart out of this life. Furthermore, euen as the longest life is not the best, so the longest death is the worst. There is nothing wherein wee should giue more contentment to our soules, then in the maner of death which they best like of. Let the soule depart by that issue, her selfe inforceth, whether it be she desire the dagger or the halter, or a poisoned cup that may suddenly seize all the veines, let her proceed and breake the bonds of her seruitude. Euerie on [...] ought to endeuour to approue his life vnto others, and his death vnto himselfe. That which pleaseth vs most is the best. This is but a follie to think thus. Some will say that I did it not couragiously enough, some that too much rashly, some that there was a kinde of death more generous. Thinkest thou that it lieth in thy power to make choice of a counsaile, which shall not be subiect to common report and censure? Thinke onely to dispatch thy selfe speedily out of the po­wer [Page 288] and handes of fortune; otherwise there will not want some who will con­ceiue an euill opinion of thine action: thou shalt finde some, yea euen those who haue made profession of Philosophie, that will denie that any man ought to violate or shorten his life, and that maintaine it for a foule offence, for a man to murther himselfe, and that it were better to exspect the end which Nature hath determined. But he that speaketh thus, seeth not that he cutteth off the way of libertie. The eternall law hath done nothing better, then to giue vs one onely entrance into life, and diuers issues. Shall I expulse the crueltie of a sicke­nesse, or the tyrannie of a man, when as I may escape euen through the middest of torments, and driue all aduersities farre from me? This is one thing, wherein we cannot complaine of life, she retaineth no man. It is a great good for hu­mane affaires, that there is not one that is miserable, but by his owne default. Takest thou pleasure in life? Liue. Art thou displeased therwith? Thou may­est returne to the place from whence thou camest. To heale thy head-ach thou hast oft-times let bloud, to extenuate thy bodie thou hast opened thy veine: Thou needest not to open thy breast with a deepe and vast wound; a lancet will giue way to that great libertie, and in a pricke consisteth securitie. What is it then that maketh vs fearefull and slacke to dislodge? There is not one of vs that thinketh that he must depart one day out of this house: so doth the cu­stome and indulgence of the place detaine the auncient inhabitants, although to their owne vndoing. Wilt thou alwayes keepe this libertie against this bo­die? Inhabite it as if thou shouldst leaue it, and make account that one day thou must lose his company. Thou shalt afterwards be more constant and resolute, when anie necessitie shall constraine thee to depart. But how can they thinke vpon their ends, who couet all things without end? There is nothing in this world, the remembrance and meditation whereof is more necessarie. For hap­pily it is in vaine, where a man thinketh on other things. Haue wee prepared our mindes against pouertie? The riches remaine with vs. Are we alreadie armed against contempt of paine? The felicitie of a whole and healthfull bo­die hath had no need, that we should make proofe of our vertues. Haue we got­ten this authoritie ouer our selues, that we can suffer death and the losse of our friends constantly? Yet fortune hath conserued and made all them suruiue vnto vs, whom we most loue. But the day that shall haue neede of the vse and pra­ctique of this onely thing, ought vndoubtedly to come. Thou must not thinke that great personages onely, haue had that courage and force to breake the bonds of their humane seruitude. Thou must not thinke that Cato onely could rent out his soule with his hand, which he could not pricke out with his poy­nard. Since some men of as bad condition as may be, with great heate of cou­rage haue attained that place of assurance, and being vnable suddenly to finde wherewith to make themselues away to their liking, or chuse any instrument which was proper for them thereunto, haue laide hand on the first thing they could encounter, and haue made vse of that for weapons, which of their nature were no wayes hurtfull. Not long since an Alman, one of those that should combate with the beasts, in the sports & shows in the morning, retired himself, fayning that he would withdraw himselfe to discharge his natural necessities; for they were not suffred to go into any other secret place without guard, there stopped he the sticke or staffe (to which a spong was fastned [...] to cleanse and cleere the priuie parts) wholly into his throat, & forcibly closing vp the passage of his breath, stifled himselfe: this was to braue death and contemne it. It was vn­doubtedly, although scarce cleanly and honourably. What follie is there grea­ter, [Page 289] then to die effeminately, when we must die assuredly. O strong, O worthy man, deseruing the election of that death that best liked him! How couragious­ly had he vsed his sword, had he found it? with what resolution of minde had he cast himselfe into the depth of the Sea, or the cauitie of a clouen Rocke? Being dispoyled of all commodities, he found the meanes how he might be be­holding vnto himselfe onely, both for the meanes and weapons for his death. To the end that thou mayest know that there is nothing that hindereth vs from dying but want of will. Let each man iudge as he list of this violent mans actions, prouided that it be resolued vpon as a thing assured, that we ought to preferre a base and villeynous death, before the most cleanliest seruitude in the world. But because I haue begun to vse abiect examples, I will contiue them: for euerie one will inforce himselfe to doe his best, if he shall perceiue that death is contemptible to persons that are most abiect and base. We think that these Catoes and Scipioes, and those other whose memories we entertaine with admi­ration, are inimitable. But I will proue you presently that this vertue is accom­panied with as many examples, amiddest the men most miserable, destinated to the sports and spectacles of beasts, as amiddest the Chiefe-tains of ciuill warres. When as not long since, with sure guard, the souldiers carried forth a wretch, sent out for the morning spectacles, stouping downe his head as if he were pres­sed with sleepe, he suffered it to hang so lowe, that he put it betweene the Cart­wheels, and held it so long in that place, that the wheele in turning it selfe brake his necke. He auoyded the punishment in the same Chariot, on which he was carried forth to be punished. There is nothing that may hinder a man that hath a will to die, and to be deliuered. Nature keepeth vs in an open place. He to whom his last necessitie is so fauourable, as to aduise on the issue and end which he shall esteeme most conuenient [...] he that hath diuers meanes in his power to set himselfe at libertie may chuse; he shall do well to thinke how he may most easily be deliuered. But he that hath so hard hap, as not to finde any occasion, let him take hold on the first that shall present it selfe, as if it were the best, al­though it be strange and vnheard of: he that wanteth no courage, wanteth no inuention how to die. Thou seest how those sla [...]es which are most miserable, when as their miserie toucheth them to the quicke, awaken themselues, and how they deceiue their keepers, though neuer so diligent: he is a man of the greatest courage that hath not onely commanded, but also found out the means of his death. I haue promised thee diuers examples of men of this condition I haue spoken of. In the second combate which was made vpon the water, one of the Barbarians thrust all that Iauelin into his throate, which was giuen him to combate his enemies. Why haue I not long since, said he, fled all these tor­ments and all these shames? Why should I attend death, hauing the armes in my hands? This spectacle was so much the more magni [...]icent, as much as it is more honest for men to learne to die well, as to kill. What then? That which the most abiect and contemptible spirits may haue; why should not they per­take, whom long studie and reason (the Ladie Mistresse of all things) hath in­structed? It is the same reason that warneth vs, that there are diuers manners of death, but that there is but one and the same end, and that it auaileth nothing to know whence that beginneth, that must one day come. The same reason warneth thee, if it lie in thy power to die without griefe: but if it cannot be, doe the best that thou canst, and lay hold on all that which presenteth it selfe to lay violence on thy life. It is an iniurious thing to liue by rapine, but it is a most worthy thing to die violently.

EPIST. LXXI.

That the chiefest good should be continually in our eyes, and that to it all our counsels and actions should be referred. What therefore is that? Onely honest. They adulterate the fame that mixe internall things, because it is onely freed in the minde. Againe, that goods are equall, and that contempt differeth not from honour, if both proceed from honestie. He giueth CATO for example, and dilateth the same very worthi­ly. Likewise that an honest death differeth not from such a life. Against the Acade­mikes, which make degrees of happinesse. That neither it [...] nor honestie are inten­ded. And therefore the most blessed may be in torment. Is it so? Will he not wax pale, tremble, or grieue? Yes, (for these are naturall) but all these shall be ouercome by the strength of his minde, yet not presently all. There are differences betweene wise men and studious. Reade diligently, marke and admire.

THou askest my counsell in all thy affaires, from time to time, not remembring thy selfe that we are separated by a large sea. But since the greater part of counsaile dependeth on the opportuni­tie of time, it must fall out of necessitie, that sometimes in cer­taine things my counsaile is then brought vnto thee, when as at that time the contrarie were more allowable. For counsailes are fitted to af­faires, and our affaires passe away swiftly, or to speake truth, roule away impe­tuously. Counsell therefore ought to be giuen daily, yet is it sometime ouer old by a day; it must be bred swiftly, as they say, and vnder hand. But how it is found I will shew thee. As oft as thou wilt know what either is to be fled, or what ought to be affected, haue regard vnto the chiefest good and scope of thy whole life. For thereto must all that consent whatsoeuer we doe. He shall not dispose euery thing, except he purpose to himselfe alreadie a certaine straine of his whole life. No man, although his colours be ground to his hand, can re­present the similitude of any thing, except alreadie he be resolued, what he in­tendeth to paint. Therefore erre wee, because wee all of vs deliberate on the parts of our life, and no man debateth of the whole. Hee must know whereat he aimeth, that will shoote his arrow; and then must he aime and guide his ar­row by his hand. Our Counsailes therefore erre, because they haue not where­unto they should be directed. He that knoweth not what harbor he shall make for, hath no winde fitting for him. It must need fall out that casualtie must ef­fect much in our life, because all of vs liue casually. And to some it happeneth, that they wot not that they know certaine things, euen as oftentimes we seeke for those, with whom we are conuersant and present. So for the most part we know not the end of the soueraigne good, though it be before our eyes, neither by many words nor long circumstance, shalt thou gather what the chiefest good is. You must show it, as the prouerb saith, by the finger, without exten­ding it to so many things. For to what purpose is it to diuide the same into parts, when as thou mayest say, That is the chiefest good which is honest; and that which thou shouldest most wonder at, There is but onely one good, which is honest; the rest are false & adulterated goods. If thou perswade thy selfe this, & perfect­ly louest vertue (for to loue it, is but a small matter) whatsoeuer she shal touch, that to thee (howsoeuer it seeme to others) shall be both happie and successe­full, both to be tormented, if thou lie more secure then he that tortureth thee; and to be sicke, if so be thou curse not Fortune, and giue not way to thy sicke­nesse. [Page 291] To conclude all those things, which to other men seeme euill, both shall be sweete vnto thee, and returne thee profit, if so be thou canst ouercome them. Resolue on this, that nothing is good, but that which is honest, and that all in­commodities may iustly be called goods, which are once made honest by ver­tue. To many we seeme to promise greater things then humane nature is ca­pable of, and not without reason. For they respect the bodie, let them returne to the minde, and then shall they measure man with God. Take courage, my Lucilius, the best of men, and dismisse this studie of letters, which the Philoso­phers affect, who reduce the most magnificent thing of the world to syllables, that teach but base and trifling matters, and diminish and waste the vnderstan­ding. Thou shalt become like vnto those that haue inuented these things; not they that teach them, and endeuour thus much, that Philosophie might rather seeme difficult then great. Follow them, if I haue any authoritie ouer thee. So­crates, who reduced all Philosophie vnto manners, and said that the chiefest wis­dome was to distinguish good from euill: To the end that thou mayest be happie (saith he) permit thy selfe sometimes to be esteemed a foole. Let whosoeuer will out­rage thee in words, and offend thee in deeds, yet shalt thou [...]uffer nothing, if so be vertue be with thee. If thou wilt, saith he, be blessed: if thou wilt be an en­tire honest man, suffer thy selfe to be contemned. This will no man performe, but he that hath equalled and proportioned all goods, because that neither is good without honestie, and honestie is equall in all. What then? Is there no difference betwixt Catoes Pretorship, and his repulse? It skilleth not whether Cato be ouercome in the Pharsalian field, or whether he ouercome. This good of his, wherein he cannot be ouercome, though his confederates were conque­red: was it equall with that good, wherewith he returned a conquerour vnto his countrie, and composed the peace? Why should it not be equall? For by the selfe-same vertue euill fortune is ouercome, and the good is confirmed; yet vertue cannot be made greater or lesser. She is alwaies in the same measure. Yea but Cneius Pompey shall lose his armie: but this faire lustre and pretext of the Common-weale, the principall citizens, and the chiefest bands of Pompeyes con­federa [...]es, which being composed of the Senate that bare armes, shall be defa­ced in one only battell, and the wreckes and ruines of so great an Empire, shall be noised and scattered through the whole world: one part thereof shall fall in Egypt, another in Africa, and some in Spaine. And that which is worse, this miserable Common-weale cannot haue this good to be ruinated all at once. Let all happen whatsoeuer may. Although Iuba can be no further succoured in his owne Kingdome by the knowledge of the passages, and the constant vertues of his people. Although the fidelitie of the inhabitants of Vtica being broken with so many mishaps, be deficient, and the fortune of Scipioes name abando­neth him in Africa it selfe. It hath long since beene prouided, that Cato shall nei­ther feele losse nor detriment; yet was hee conquered. Account thou this a­mongst Catoes repulses, he wil suffer with as equall constancie, as well that which hath beene contrarie to his vertue, as to his estate of Pretor. The day that he refused the same, he sported; and that night he would kill himselfe, he read. He cared as little to lose his life, as his Pretorship, he had perswaded himselfe, and resolued to endure all that might happen. But why should not he with a stout and confident minde endure the changes of the Common-weale? For what may a man see that is exempt from change? The earth, the heauens, and the structure of all this great world, although it bee gouerned by God, is subiect thereunto. It shall not alwayes retaine that faire order it now obserueth. Some [Page 292] day shall come, that shall cast it out of this accustomed course. All things alter by certaine stations, they must be borne, encrease, and be extinguished, whatso­euer thou seest wheele and winde about vs, and al that wheron we are sustained and stayed, as a thing most firme and solide, shall come to nothing, and bee defectiue. There is nothing but hath his age and declination. Nature causeth all those things to descend into one place, by spaces of vnequall time. All that which is, shall be no more, yet shall it not perish but be dissolued. To vs disso­lution is to die: for we respect nothing but that which is before our eyes. The dull minde, and such as hath addicted it selfe to the body, foreseeth no further, for otherwise shee would more constantly and couragiously suffer, both her owne and her friends dissolutions and deathes, if she hoped that all those things should goe by turnes from death to life, and that those things which are com­pounded, shall be dissolued, and such as are dissolued shall be reassembled, and that God, which gouerneth the whole world, employeth his eternall Arte on this worke. Therefore, when as Cato hath represented before his minde, all the eternitie of time, he will say: All mankind whatsoeuer is or shall be, is condem­ned to die. All the Cities, in what place soeuer they be, that haue had domi­nion ouer their neighbours, and haue beene greatned and honoured by forren Empires, the time shall come when it shall he enquired where they were buil­ded, and by sundrie sorts of dissolution shall they be extinguished. Warre shall destroy some: Idlenesse, and a long peace conuerted into slothfulnesse, and foo­lish expences, a fatall adiunct of great riches shall consume the others. A sudden inundation of the sea, shall hide all these fertile fields, or an earthquake shall swallow them vp in his bottomlesse bosome. What cause haue I therefore to grudge at, or grieue for, if in a small moment I outstrip publike fate. A constant soule must obey God, and whatsoeuer the law of the great Vniuers comman­deth, let him suffer without cunctation or delay. For either she shall be transla­ted into a better life, to remaine with more brightnes and tranquillitie amongst diuine things, or certainly she shall remix her selfe with her nature, and returne into her whole, neuermore to suffer any incommoditie or paine. The soueraigne good then of Marcus Cato, shall not consist any more in an honest life, but in an honest death; for vertue is not intended. Socrates said, that veritie and vertue were the same. For as she encreaseth not, no more doth vertue also, shee hath her perfection, she is full. Thou must not wonder then to heare that goods are equal, as well they which we are to take by a certaine resolution, as those which a sudden current of Fortune bringeth to vs. For if thou admittest any ine­qualitie, that thou wilt reckon it amongst the lesser goods, to be constant in tor­ments, thou shalt reckon it also amongst the euils. Thou shalt terme Socrates vnhappie in his prison, and Cato infortunate, renting open his wounds more couragiously then he inflicted them. Thou shalt iudge Regulus the vnhappiest man in the world, for paying the penaltie of his obserued faith vnto his mortall enemies [...] and yet there is not one, how delicate soeuer, and effeminate he bee, that hath dared to say thus, for they deny him to be blessed, and yet they deny him to be miserable. The ancient Academickes confesse, that amiddest these torments and paines he was happie, but not perfectly and fully, which can in no manner be allowed of. For if he be happie, he hath attained the soueraigne good, and the soueraigne good cannot haue any degree aboue the same, if so be it be accompanied with any vertue, prouided that aduersities ouercome it not, prouided that it remaine entire and safe, although the bodie be crushed in sun­der; but certaine it is that she remaineth entire. For I speake of a vertue most [Page 293] excellent and couragious, which is animated and incited against all that which offendeth it. That minde which oftentimes yong men of generous hope and dispositions put vpon them, whom the beautie of some honest thing hath pro­uoked, so that they contemne all casualties, vndoubtedly wisdome will infuse and teach, and perswade vs that the onely good is that which is honest. And that this can neither be remitted or intended, no more then a rule by which a man measureth that which he would make straight, which if thou beare what­soeuer thou changest from it, it is the iniurie of the right. The same therfore wil we say by Vertue, that she also is straight, and admitteth no crookednesse, it can be no more intended. She it is that iudgeth of all things, and nothing iudgeth of her, if shee cannot bee made straighter, no more are those things which are done by her straighter, the one then the other, for they must needs be answe­rable to the same; so are they equall. What then sayest thou? Are these things alike to sit at a table banquetting, and to be tortured? Doth this seeme strange vnto thee? Thou hast more occasion to wonder at this. It is an euill thing to sit at a banquet; it is a good thing to be tortured: if that be done lewdly, this ho­nestly. The matter is not the cause that this is either good or euill; it is the ver­tue. This wheresoeuer it appeareth, all things are of the same measure and price. He that iudgeth another mans vnderstanding by his owne, presently lif­teth vp his nailes to scratch out mine eyes, when I say that his good that suffe­reth aduersities constantly, and his that maketh an honest iudgement of pro­speritie are equall: when I say that the goods of him that triumpheth, and of him that with an inuincible courage is led before the triumphant Chariot are a­like. For they thinke that nothing is done which they cannot do, and by their owne infirmitie, they censure vertue. Why wonderest thou, why some re­ioyce when they see themselues burned, wounded, harmed, slaine and fettered? Sometimes they suffer it for their pleasure. Sobrietie sufficeth for a penaltie, to a prodigall and dissolute man. Trauell is no lesse then torture to an idle man. The effeminate taketh pitie of him that is industrious, and studie is a hell to him that is slothfull. In like sort, those things (for which our forces seeme ouer fee­ble) are in our opinion hard and intollerable, whereas in our forgetfulnesse, we finde many that thinke it a torment to want wine, and trouble to rise earely. These by nature are not difficult, but we are recreants, we are effeminate. We ought to iudge of great things with a great courage; otherwise it will seeme to be their error, which is ours. So certaine things that are most straight, when as they are let downe into the water, seeme crooked and bowed to them, that be­hold them. It skilleth not what thou seest, but how. Our minde is dimmed in beholding those things, and examining them which are true. Giue me a yong man well borne and of good spirit: he will say that he supposeth him more for­tunate, that hath borne all the burthens of aduerse fortune, with a constant minde, on his shoulders, then him that hath wholly trodden Fortune vnder foote. It is no wonder to be temperate in tranquillitie, admire him that is high minded, where all men are deiected, that standeth there where all men are sup­pressed. What euill is there in torments, or what in those things which we call aduerse? The euill is, as I thinke, when the soule is astonished, when it is wea­kened, when it is smothered vnder the burthen. But none of these may befall a wise man. He remaineth alwayes vpright, how ouer-charged soeuer hee bee. There is nothing that lesseneth his courage, nothing that is tedious vnto him, which he must suffer. For he neuer complaineth that such a fortune hath bafal­len him, which in any sort may befall any man whatsoeuer, shee knoweth her [Page 294] owne forces, and her abilitie in suffering so great a burthen. I will not put a wise man out of the rancke of men, I will not exempt him from dolours, no more then I would doe a rocke which hath no sense. I remember my selfe that he is compounded of two parts: The one is irrationall, and that it is which may feele bitings, burnings, and paines. The other is reasonable, that is it which is neuer shaken in opinion, that is exempt from all feare, and that is inuincible. In this part it is that a mans chiefest good lodgeth; before the accomplishment whereof, the minde wandereth as vncertaine and doubtfull, but after she hath attained to her perfection, it is in assurance and in immutable firmitie. So he that hath but begun, and that neuerthelesse will ascend vnto the highest, and follow vertue, although he approcheth the good which is wholly perfect, yet vnable as yet to accomplish the same: he will sometimes stay himselfe in the way, and temperate, in some sort, the vehemencie and strength of his mind, for as yet hath he not ouerpassed those things which are incertaine, and remaineth as yet in danger of disaster. But he that is blessed, and in whom vertues are ac­complished, then loueth himselfe most, when he hath made proofe of his con­stancie, and if there be any thing which other men feare, prouided that hee may receiue some honest reward of his deuoyre and seruice, hee endureth not onely, but he embraceth the same, and had rather heare it spoken, hee is more honest; then to heare it said, he is more happie. I haue now retired my selfe thither, whither thy expectation draweth me: lest thou shouldest suppose, that the vertue whereof I speake, should seeme to extend it selfe aboue all naturall things. A wise-man shall tremble, he shall feele paines, he shall be pale, for all these senses appertaine vnto the bodie. Where is then the originall of his cala­mities? Where then appeareth his euill most approued? Then it is when his passions astonish his soule. Then it is, when they make her confesse that shee is a slaue, and that they engender some repentance in her. The wise-man vndoub­tedly surmounteth Fortune by his vertue. But there are diuers men who haue made profession of wisdome, and notwithstanding haue beene terrified by very light threatnings. In this place it is our error, who exact that from a proficient, which is spoken of a wise-man. I striue as much as in me lieth, to beleeue all this which I praise, yet perswade I not them as yet, and although I had perswa­ded my selfe I should not haue them so ready at hand, or so exercised, that they should be addressed against all casualtie. Euen as wooll taketh some staine of colours at the first, and drinketh not vp othersome, without often maceration and boyling: so some wits, when as they haue conceited certaine disciplines, forthwith make vse of them. But this Science, except it be deepely imprinted in the soule, and hath taken deepe roote and long residence therein, hath not deepe died, but superficially coloured the soule, and performeth nothing of that she hath promised. This may be quickly learned, and in few words; namely, that there is but one onely good, which is vertue, and that vndoubtedly there is not any without vertue. And that vertue is lodged in our better part, which is that, which is reasonable. What shall this vertue be? A true and immoue­able iudgement from whence shall proceed the heat of the soule, whereby the appearance of things which may moue this heate, shall become cleare and cer­taine. It behoueth that this iudgement esteeme all those things good and equall in themselues, which shall be atchieued by the counsaile of vertue. In re­gard of corporall goods, they are goods for the bodie, yet are they not entirely perfect goods. Well may they be esteemed at some rate, but it shall be without any supereminencie. There is a great difference betwixt them: the one shall be [Page 295] greater, the other lesser. In like sort ought men to confesse that there is a great difference between those that follow Philosophie. Some one hath so farre pro­fited therein, that he dare lift vp his [...]ies against fortune: yet not perseuerantly; for they are oftentimes obscured by the beames of her too cleere light. Some other hath profited so much, that h [...] dare encounter her face to face, if he haue attained to perfection, and be full of assurance. But it must needes so fall out that things which are imperfect grow to ruine, and now frustrate themselues, and anon after come to decay or dissolution, and they shall come vnto decay if they perseuer not to grow forward, and inforce themselues, and if they remit a­nie thing of their studie, and faithfull intention, they shall grow backward. No man findeth aduancement and profit there where he left it: let vs therefore be diligent and perseuer; there remaineth yet more then we haue ouercome: but the greatest part of profit, is to desire to profite. Herein my conscience shall beare me witnesse: I will, and with my whole minde I will: I see well also that thou hast this inspiration, and that thou prosecutest with great feruencie those things that are more faire. Let vs then make hast, and so doing, our life shall be the cause of our great good, otherwise it is but a delay, and truely a very loath­some one, if we conuerse in base matters: let vs endeuour, so that all the time may be ours, but it will not be, except we begin to be our owne. When shall it come to passe that we will contemne both fortunes? When shall it come to passe, that suppressing all our affections, and bringing them vnder our obedience we may say thus: I haue ouercome. Askest thou me whom I haue ouercome? Not the Persians, not the farre distant Medes, or that warlike nation of the Da­cae; but auarice, but ambition, but feare of death, which haue vanquished the Conquerours and Vanquishers of the whole world.

EPIST. LXXII.

He delayeth to answer LVCILIVS petition, and that vpon iust occasion. He sheweth that the studie of goodnesse is deferred by vs, but badly. That we ought to intend to this onely, pretermitting all other things. That nothing happeneth that may hinder him, especially that is wise, and proficient in some sort. The difference betwixt them both. That externall things neyther adde nor detract from a wise-man, that is al­wayes contented with himselfe.

I Know well what thou demaundest at my hands, if I had recolle­cted and meditated thereupon, but it is long time since I made tryall of my memory. And therefore it is that it followeth me not so easily. I know well, and feele it in my selfe, that the like hath befalne me which happeneth in bookes that are mouldie, and whose leaues cleaue together. I must dilate my mind, & whatsoeuer things haue beene heard therein, they ought to be refreshed and brought in vse, that they may alwayes be in a readinesse as often as we haue neede to vse them. But let vs deferre this for the present; for it requireth much labour and much dili­gence. Assoone as I may make more longer residence in a place, I will take this taske in hand; for there are some things which thou mayest compose in thy Coach, and some other that deserue the bed, the repose, and solitarie places. Yet those very dayes wherein a man is occupied, we must doe somwhat, yea, all the whole dayes: for now occasions and occupations will be neuer scantie; we see [Page 296] this our selues, and from one springs mani [...]; and that which is worst, wee giue our selues delayes. But as soone as I haue made an end of this (say wee) I will wholly dedicate my selfe, and if I can end this troublesom matter, I will addict my selfe vnto studie. Thou must not expect till thou haue leasure to follow Philosophie. Thou must contemne all other things, to be alwayes with her. A man cannot finde time that may be sufficiently long for her, although it conti­nue with vs from the yeares of our infancie, vntill the most longest life of man. It skilleth not much whether thou omittest Philosophie, or intermittest it. For it remaineth not there where it was interrupted; but euen as those things that are bent, as soone as they are let slip doe forcibly retire themselues, so that which departeth from his continuation, retireth it selfe, and returneth wholly vnto his beginnings. We must reiect all affaires and occupations, we must not studie how to dispose them, we must wholly dispossesse and driue them from vs. There is no time vnfitting for a wholsome studie. But there are many that studie not those things which they ought to studie. Shall there be any occasion that may let them? Truely not him whose minde in all affaires is watchfull and ioyfull. To these persons onely t [...]ue ioy is interrupted, which haue not as yet attained perfection. But in regard of the wise, their ioy is continuall, it keepeth the same tract, there is not any fortune or occasion that can countermand the same. It is alwayes peaceable and reposed; for it hath no dependance of ano­ther: she expecteth no fauour at fortunes hands, nor mens applause: it is a feli­citie that is bred in her owne house: she would leaue the soule if she entred: she is engendred therein. There might some occasion fall out to make him remem­ber that he is mortall, but it very slight, and surpassed not the vpper skin. Hee feeleth, I say, some incommoditie, but that good which is the greatest he hath, is neuer shaken: well wot I that outwardly there are some incommodities, euen as vpon a strong and able bodie there appeareth som itch, and pimples, & vlcers, but inwardly there is no euill. The difference, I say, that is betweene a man that hath alreadie acquired a perfect wisedome, and him that is as yet to attaine the same, is such as there is betwixt a man that is healthfull, and him that begin­neth to recouer himselfe from a long and tedious sickenesse, who thinketh him­selfe to be then in good health, when the fit of his feuer is the shortest. This man, except he be very carefull of his health, he feeleth by times certaine sha­kings, and easily falleth relapse into his former infirmitie. But a wise-man can­not fall againe, nay more, he neuer more can be attainted therewith: for as tou­ching the body, it hath health but for a time, and that Physitian that hath recu­red him, cannot promise him perpetuitie: hee is oftentimes recalled by him, whom almost before time he had resusitated: But the soule is healed for euer at one time. I will teach thee how to know when a man is in health, if he be con­tent with himselfe, if he may trust himselfe, if he knoweth that all mortal mens vowes, that all the benefites which are giuen and demaunded haue no moment in a blessed life. For that thing whereunto a man may annex somewhat, is not perfect. But that from whence nothing may be taken continueth eternally. He whose ioy is perpetuall may reioyce of that which is his owne. But all these goods whereunto the common sort aspire inconstantly flowe hither and thi­ther: fortune giueth nothing with warrantize; and yet the benefits of fortune are pleasing vnto vs when they are tempered by reason, and she directeth them. She it is that maketh vs allow of exterior things. The vse whereof displeaseth if they be desired ouer-ardently. Attalus was wont to vse this comparison: Hast thou seene a dogge snatching at a peece of bread with open throat, or a [Page 297] morsell of [...]lesh which his master casteth him? He deuoureth incontinently all that which is giuen him, and still openeth his mouth, in hope that some one will cast him more. So falleth it out with vs, whatsoeuer fortune casteth vpon vs during our expectation, that swallow we without any pleasure [...] still expecting and affecting some second pray. So fareth not a wise-man; he is full, and if any thing befall him, he securely receiueth and layeth it vp; his ioy is great, conti­nuall, and his owne. Is there any one that hath a good will, and that profiteth somewhat, but hath not as yet attained to perfection? Such a one shall be som­times deiected, sometimes incouraged, sometime is he raised as high as heauen, otherwise rauished as lowe as earth. The ignorant, and such as haue little ex­perience, neuer make an end of their precipitation, but fall into confusion, and into Epicurus his Chaos, voyde and infinite. There is another third kind of those that wanton it about wisedome, which as yet they cannot attaine, yet are they in sight thereof; and if I might say so, they may clap her on the hand. These are neyther shaken, neyther doe they fall, they are not as yet on the con­tinent, but they are alreadie in the harbor [...] Since then there is so great a distance betwixt those that are on high, & those that are most low, since that they which are in the middest, feele as yet some storme, and that they are followed with more danger to returne vnto a more wicked life, we must not addict our selues to any occupations, we must reiect them. If they were once entred, they would set some other in their places. Let vs hinder their beginnings, and the lesse la­bour will there be to keepe them from beginning, then to see them take end.

EPIST. LXXIII.

That Philosophers are not disobedient but more obedient, and faithfull to Princes, then these ambitions and Palatines: for these [...]ffect enuie, and are alwayes vnquiet, often displeased, but they loue them, because they li [...]e quietly vnder them, and are such that is full of good merchandize. They impute this benefit [...] also, although it happen vnto manie. At length he counselleth him to aspire vnto vertue, that is, to God; for that (such is the Stoicks pride) they make a wise-man equall with him.

THey deceiue themselues, in my iudgment, that suppose that they who haue wholly addicted themselues to Philosophie, are diso­bedient and rebellous to their Magistrates and Kings, or that they contemne those by whose authoritie publique affaires are administred: for contrariwise there is not any one that reueren­ceth and respecteth them more then they. And not without cause; for that Kings cannot do [...] greater good vnto any man in this world, then to those that may enioy a peaceable repose. It must then necessarily [...]all out, that they to whom publique assurance openeth the way to the intention they haue to liue well [...] should reuerence the author of thesame good as their Lord and Father. And truely farre more then those light witted and irresolute men, who being infinitely bound vnto their Princes, will notwithstanding haue men thinke that they owe them mor [...], on whom a man cannot imploy any liberalitie how grea [...] soeuer it be, that may satisfie their [...]mbitious desires, which increase alwayes the more, the more they are glutted. But he that thinketh to receiue new be­nefits, hath alreadie forgotten the olde, and cou [...]tousnesse hath not any vice more great then ingratitude. Adde hereunto now, that there are none of those [Page 298] that are imployed, and conuersant in publique affaires, that respecteth those at any time, whom he hath ouer-stripped, but lookes into those that out-strip him, and it is not so pleasant a matter vnto them, to see many men come after them: as it is grieuous vnto them, that any one should ouer-passe them in dignitie. All sort of ambition hath this vice, that it neuer respecteth that which is past. And ambition is not onely inconstant and wandring, but all couetousnesse likewise; because it beginneth alwayes from the end. But that sincere and poore man, who hath forsaken the Court and the Palace, and all preheminencie in com­mon-weale to retire himselfe for more noble intents and ends, loueth those by whose authoritie it is lawfull for him to doe these things with securitie; he a­lone payeth them with gratuitall testimonie of acknowledgement, and confes­seth himselfe to be indebted vnto them for a great good, although they knowe not his good will. Euen as he honoureth and reuerenceth his Masters, by whose instructions he is despoyled of those vices, in like sort respecteth he those, vnder whose protection and gouernement he may exercise honest disciplines. But the King protecteth others also by his power. Who denieth it? But euen as a­mongst others that haue trauelled by Sea, and haue beene partakers of one and the same calme, hee thinketh himselfe more bound vnto Neptune, that hath brought home more great quantitie of precious merchandize; and as the Mer­chant payeth his vow with greater courage then a Passenger doth: And as he also amongst the Merchants that bringeth perfunes, purples, and other pretious things which are solde for their waight in gold, reknowledgeth this fauor more liberally, then doth he that hath but laide downe poore Merchandize, and o­ther things which should serue but to ballist and loade the ship: So the bene­fite of thi [...] peace, appertayning to all, doth more deepely content them that vse the same well: For there are many of these Magistrates and mightie men, to whom peace is more troublesome then warre. Art thou of that opinion, that they which make no other vse of peace, but to imploy it in drunkennesse, in ry­ot and other sorts of vices; for the extermination of which, it were necessarie to enterprise a warre, shall be so much obliged for the same? Except happily thou wert of that opinion, that a wise-man were so iniust, that hee thought that hee were no wayes obliged to his gouernour, for publique and common benefits. I owe much vnto the Sunne and Moone, and yet they shine not for me alone. I am particularly bound vnto the yeare, and to God that tempereth and gouer­neth the same, although they haue not been ordained for my particular honor. It is the foolish auarice of mortall men, that maketh a diuision of these goods, and assigneth the propertie vnto them, and that beleeueth nothing to be his that is for publique profit. But this wise-man iudgeth nothing to be more apt­ly his, then that which is common betweene him and all other men. For goods cannot be common, if the portions of them appertained not to particulars. A man is made partaker how little part soeuer he enioy in a common thing. Adde hereunto also this other reason, that the greatest and truest goods are not so di­uided, that a little should light vpon euerie priuate man. They come wholly into euerie mans possession. Of those presents which Princes make vnto the people, the particulars take as much by powle, as hath beene promised to euery one. At a common banquet, and at the common dole of flesh, and in all that which is receiued by hand, the almes is distributed in prises. But these indiui­sible goods, such as peace and libertie are, these also are intire to all, as they are particular vnto euery one: and therefore a wise-man considereth what he is, by whose means the publique necessitie constraineth him no more to beare armes, [Page 299] nor to intend the Watch, nor to stand Sentinell on the walls, and not to pay an infinitie of taxes any more which warre bringeth with it, and giueth thanks vn­to his Prince. This doth Philosophie teach vs [...] especially to be dutifully thank­full for benefites, and faithfully to requite them; and the onely acknowledge­ment sometimes serueth for payment. He will therefore confesse that he is very much bound vnto him, by whose wise gouernement and prouidence this great and happie repose is befalne him, to be able to passe the terme of his life in such tranquilitie and quiet, which is not interrupted by any publique occupations.

'T is God O MELIBE that gaue this peace,
Him as my God Ile honour without cease.

If then these calmes and contentments are so principally to be ascribed to him that hath procured them for vs, the greatest good whereof is

He (as thou seest) my yoaked teame permits
To plow the earth, by him in pleasant fits,
Mine Oaten pipe I tune as best befits.

How much ought we to esteeme that repose which we partake with the gods, that maketh vs become gods. Thus say I Lucilius, thus call I thee to heauen by a short way. Sextius was wont to say, That IVPITER could not doe more then a good man. IVPITER hath more meanes to be liberall towards men. But among two good men, he is not the better that is the richer, no more then betweene two that haue equall knowledge in gouerning a ship, thou wilt not call him bet­ter that gouerneth a Carricke or great vessell, and full of rich lading. What ad­uantage hath Iupiter ouer a good man? It is but onely this, that he is more long time good. A wise-man reckoneth himselfe nothing the lesse, because his ver­tues are determined in a shorter time. Euen as of two wise-men, he which is dead in fulness [...] of his age, is not more happie then he, whose vertue hath taken end in lesser years. So God likewise surmounteth not a wiseman in felicity, although he exceed him in age. That vertue is not greater which is longer. Iupiter hath all th [...]se things, but he hath giuen the vse and possession thereof vnto others [...] This onely vse appertaineth vnto him, that he is the cause that others may vse the same. The wise-man likewise is glad to see the possession of all goods in an other mans hands, and maketh as small account also of that as Iupiter doth, and further supposeth himselfe to haue this aduantage aboue him, that Iupiter can­not haue vse of them, and a wise-man will not. Let vs therefore beleeue Sextius, who sheweth vs a faire way, and crieth out, This is the way to heauen, by sobri­etie, by temperance, and by patience in aduersitie. The Gods disdaine no man, enuie no man, they entertain and stretch forth their hand to those that ascend. Wonderest thou to heare that men goe vnto the Gods? God commeth vnto men, nay (which is more neere) he commeth into men. There is not any soule that is good without God. There are certaine diuine seeds dispersed in the bo­dies of men, which growe answerable to their originall, and growe alike vnto that graine from whence they tooke their beginning, if they be entertained in the bosome of a good husbandman. But if he be euill, he choaketh them as a barren and faggie ground; and finally, in stead of corne beareth chaffe & straw.

EPIST. LXXIIII.

O faire, O honest Epistle, and of honestie it selfe, and that indeed it is the onely good, the rest but in opinion. He that will safely and securely liue, let him so thinke. What likenesse? Let him haue a readie buckler against all casualties, which is to follow God. At length he answereth certaine obiections. Lastly he sheweth that a blessed life is as a circle, perfect both in small and great. That nothing is added, nothing taken therefrom by externall things. It must be reiterated. O faire, O honest, enioy thou this, who hast such a minde.

THy letter hath delighted me, and awakened me when I was wea­ried, and quickened my memorie also, which is now slow and heauie. Why shouldest thou not, my Lucilius, thinke this per­swasion to be the greatest instrument of blessed life, that there is onely one good, that is to say, that which is honest? Hee that hath circumscribed all sorts of good vnder honestie, is happie in himselfe. For he that iudgeth that other things are goods, subiecteth himself to the power of Fortune, and dependeth on another mans will. This man is sorrowfull for the losse of his children, another carefull of them that are sicke, and that other, if they be dishonest and noted of infamie. Thou shalt see one man tormented with the loue of another mans wife, and another transported with the loue hee beareth his owne. There wanteth not some one likewise, that is distracted with the repulse he receiueth in his affected dignitie, and another that is disgusted with the honor which he possesseth. But the greatest number of all those men which are thus miserable, is of them whom the assault and touch of impendent death, which they feare on euery side, presseth and tormenteth incessantly, for there is nothing from whence they thinke not, that she should not assaile them. Therefore as if they liued in an enemies country, they ought to looke about them on euery side, and on euery voice they heare, to turne their neckes thither­ward: for except this feare be driuen out of their breasts, they liue in continuall heart-breake and suspition. Some will be found out that haue beene sent into exile, and depriued of their goods, and some also will occur (which kinde of pouertie is the most irkesome) poore in their riches. Thou shalt meete with some that are shipwracked, or such as haue suffered some such like thing vnto shipwracke, whom either the wrath or enuy of the common sort (which is a dangerous weapon to wound the better sort) hath ouerthrowne vnawares, and when they were most secure, after the manner of a gust, which is wont to breake forth in the most seeming s [...]curite of a calme, or a sudden lightning, at whose cracke the neighbouring countries haue trembled. For euen as he that is nee­rest to this [...]ire, remaineth as much amazed, as if he had beene striken: in like sort, in these accidents that come by violence, the calamitie oppresseth one, but feareth the rest, & maketh the abilitie to suffer equal with the heauines of those that doe suffer. Other mens misfortunes, which surprise them at vnawares, astonish the mindes of all those that see them. And euen as the onely noise of a sling [...] although it be not charged, frighteth the birds. In like manner, wee not onely tremble at the stroake, but at the least cracke we heare. No man therefore can be blessed, that hath credited himselfe to this opinion. For nothing is bles­sed, but that which is without feare: the life is miserable that is incombe [...]ed with suspition. Whosoeuer hath addicted himselfe very much vnto casualties, [Page 301] hath made himselfe a great and inexplicable matter of perturbation. There is but one way for him to tract, that will search out a life full of assurance, which is to contemne the goods of Fortune, and to content himselfe with that which is honest. For if any man thinketh that there is any other thing better then ver­tue, or that there is any other good besides the same: he openeth his bosome to that which Fortune spreadeth, and with extreame care expecteth those goods whereof she maketh larges. Suppose, and imagine in thy minde, that For­tune maketh publike plaies, and that she casteth amiddest this great assembly of men, honors, riches, and fauours, whereof the one part is broken and torne in peeces, betweene the hands of those that rauish them; another part is vnequal­ly diuided by a disloyall societie; and another hath wrought their inestimable damage, that haue engrossed them; and finally also some others, haue fallen into the hands of some they thought not any wise of, and others haue beene lost by running after the same ouer-greedily, and they haue bin torne out of our hands by reason of the ouer-greedy desire which we had to attain them. To conclude, there is not any, how happie soeuer his rauishment be, whose ioy, in respect of that he hath rauished, can endure long time. For which cause, the wiser sort, as soone as they see the pr [...]sents brought in, flie out of the theater, as knowing well, that a little thing would cost them deare. No man fighteth with him that retireth, no man striketh him that flieth, it is vpon the prey the contention groweth. The same succ [...]s [...]e is there in those things that Fortune casteth down from on high. We burne in miserable desire after these goods, we are in great trauell, we desire to haue many hands; now regard we this man, presently that man, we thinke that they are too slowly sent vnto vs which stir vp our desires, and that it can fall but into few mens hands, although it be expected and desi­red by all men. We desire to encounter those that fall [...] we laugh if we may sur­prise any thing, and some other enuie, whom vaine hope hath deceiued. Wee redeeme a lamentable damage with a little prey, or thereby were deceaued. Let vs therefore depart from these playes, and let vs giue place to these rauishers. Let these men fixe their intention as much as they will on those goods which hang in the aire, and let themselues likewise be more in suspence. Whosoeuer is resolued to be blessed, let him resolue there is but one good, which is honestly. For if he supposeth that there is any other good; first of all he iudgeth euill of Gods prouidence, because many mishaps befall good men: and because all that which she hath giuen vs, is but of a very small continuance, if thou compare it with the age of the whole world. From this complaint it groweth, that we are vngratefull interpreters of diuine things. We complaine, because goods befall vs not euery day, that they are little, that they are incertaine, and that they must suddenly depart from vs. Hence commeth it to passe [...] that wee will not liue, neither haue desire to die; we hate life, and we feare death. All our counsailes are vncertaine, and ther [...] is no felicitie that can satisfie vs. The cause hereof is nothing else, but that we haue not as yet attained that soueraigne good, which cannot be surmounted by any other thing, and on which we ought to stay our desires, for aboue the place that is most highest, there is no other place. Askest thou me why vertue hath need of nothing? Because she is pleased with things present, and desireth not the absent. There is nothing but seemeth great vnto her, because that euery thing sufficeth her. And if thou shouldest separate thy selfe from this opinion, neither pietie nor faith should haue any place. He that would follow both the one and the other, shall bee constrained to suffer verie much of that which we call euill, and to spend much of that which we esteeme [Page 302] and reckon of for good. Furthermore, constancie that must make triall of her selfe is lost, magnanimitie is lost also, because she cannot approue her selfe, ex­cept she contemne al things as ouer base, which the common sort desireth as the most greatest. In briefe, the grace and requitall of all good turnes is lost, it is but paine and trauell, if we thinke that there is any other thing more precious then faith, and if wee fixe not our eyes on that which is the best. But to let these things passe, either those that are called goods, or none at all; or a man is happier then God. For God maketh no vse of those goods which are pre­pared for vs, disordinate pleasures, foolish expences in banquets, riches, nor any of that which may allure a man, or draw him to loathsome pleasures, ap­pertaine not to him. We must then say (that which is incredible) either that God hath want of these goods: or wee must conclude vpon this argument, that whatsoeuer God wanteth is not good. Furthermore, there are many things that would be thought to bee goods, which are more amplie employed on beasts then on men. They eate with more greater appetite, they are not so soone wearied in the act of generation, their forces are more great and lasting, whereby it followeth that they are more happy then man: for they liue with­out wickednesse or deceit, they enioy their pleasures, which they enioy more fully, and more easily, without any feare of shame or repentance. Consider thou therefore, whether that is to be called good, wherein God is ouercome by man. Let vs lodge the soueraigne good in our mindes [...] He loseth all his grace and dignitie, if from the better part, which is in vs, it should be translated to the worse, and should be transferred to the senses, which are more actiue in brute beasts. Our chiefest felicitie is not to be planted in the flesh. Those are true goods which reason giueth, they are solide and euerlasting; which cannot fall, neither be decreased nor diminished. The rest are goods in opinion, they haue onely a common name with the true, but they haue no propertie or ef­fects of vertue in them. Let them then be called commodities, or according to our phrase, profits and reuenues. But let vs know that they are but as our slaues, and not any part of vs, let them be in such sort with vs; that we remem­ber our selues that they are without vs, and if they be with vs, wee must put them in the number of those things which are most base and abiect, and for which no man ought to waxe proud. For what is more foolish, then for a man to please himselfe, in that which himselfe hath not done? Let all these things approach vs, but not cleaue vnto vs, and if they must bee drawne from vs, let them be so seuered, that we be not distracted and torne therby. Let vs vse them, and not glory in them, and let vs vse them sparingly, as such things as are lent vs, and are not to remaine with vs. Whosoeuer vseth them contrary to reason, he hath not long time enioyed them. For felicitie it selfe hu [...]teth vs, excep [...] it be well tempered and gouerned: is ouer-pressed, if she trust her selfe to transi­torie goods, she is quickly forsaken, and le [...]t she should be forsaken, she tormen­teth her selfe infinitly. There are few men who [...]aue had the fortune to lay by their felicitie contentedly. The rest of men, with those goods that made them esteemed aboue others, are deiected, and that which for a time exalted them, [...]inally humbleth them. Much wisdome therefore must be made vse of, which may dispose them with measure and parsimony. For a disordinate libertie o­uer beareth and destroyeth his proper riches in such sort, that immeasurable expence hath neuer continued long, if reason by her moderation had not re­strained the same. The miserable end of diuers cities will make thee know this, whose luxurious empires in their first flower and pride haue decayed, and will [Page 303] teach thee, that all that which hath bin gotten by vertue, is ruinated by super­fluitie and lauish expence. Against these casualties are we to arme our selues. There is not any wall that can r [...]sis [...] the batteries of [...]ortune: and it is within vs, that we ought to arme our selues. If that noble fortresse be assured, a man may be assailed, but he cannot be surprised. Wilt thou know what fortificati­on it is? That he trouble not himselfe with any thing that may happen, that he beleeue that whatsoeuer, yea euen that which seemeth to offend him, depen­deth on the conseruation of the whole world, and that it is a part of that which finisheth the course and office of the heauens. A man ought to take pleasure in all that which God taketh pleasure in, hee ought to admire himselfe, and all that which is in him, for this onely consideration, that he cannot be vanquish­ed, that he holdeth his euill vnder his feete, and that with reason, then which nothing is more powerfull, he surmounteth Fortune, griefe and iniurie. Loue reason then, for the loue thereof will arme thee against all the greatest misfor­tunes that may be. The loue of their yong ones causeth wilde beastes, to fall into snares, who otherwise by their fiercenesse and violence were vntameable. Sometimes the desire of glorie hath drawne some yong and generous mindes into contemp [...], both of sword and fire [...] the opinion and shadow of vertue hath egged some on to seeke out a voluntarie death. But the stronger and constan­ter reason is against all this, the more vehement and violent becommeth shee a­gainst all feare and danger. You doe nothing, will some man say, because you deny that there is any other good but honestie. This defence of yours shall not make you strong and impregnable against Fortune. For you say that amongst these goods, a man ought to include obedient children, cities well gouerned, and parents that are honest. And yet if these be in any danger, you cannot see it without astonishment. For a siege of thy citie, the death of thy children, and the bondage of thy parents will trouble thee. But I will set thee downe what it is, that is accustomably answered for vs in this case [...] and then againe will I adde what besides that may be answered in my iudgement. There is another con­dition in those things which being taken from vs, substitute some other incom­moditie in their place, as health being impaired, changeth it selfe into sicknes, the sight of the eye extinguished, affecteth vs with blindnesse, and when the [...]ammes are cutte, not onely sinewes perish, but debilitie followeth in stead thereof. And yet danger is not in those things, which wee haue spoken of a little before: Why? Because that if I haue lost a good friend, I must not therefore be perfidious for him, neither if I haue buried good children; there is no reason that impietie should supply their place, to endanger and hurt me. Moreouer, by this death, friends and children are not lost, it is but the bodie. But good cannot be lost, but by one only mean, that is, if it should change it selfe into euill, which Nature permitteth not, for all v [...]rtu [...]s and all their actions re­maine incorruptible. Againe, although that friends, although that well appro­ued children, and haue in nothing contradicted their fathers commands, bee dead, yet notwithstanding, [...]here is something that may supply their place. As­kest thou me what it may be? It is that vertue that hath made them good men. She suffereth not at any tim [...], that there should be any place voide. She entire­ly taketh seisure of our soules, she exterminat [...]th the sorrow of all things, and contenteth her [...]elfe to be alone. For th [...] power & original of all goods is in her. What skilleth it if the water that floweth bee stolne, or [...]ee [...]e away, if the foun­taine from whence it issueth be liuing and replenished. Thou wilt not say, that a man is more iust, because his children are yet aliue, or for that they ar [...] dead [...] [Page 304] no more moderate, more honest, more wise, more better, consequently a great number of friends make not a man more wise, neither the diminution, or want of them, maketh him not more foolish, and consequently also, neither more happy, nor more miserable. As long as thy vertue shall remaine entire, thou shalt neuer feele any losse that thou hast made. What then? Is not he who is enuironed with a goodly troupe of friends and children more happie? Why should he not be? Because the soueraigne good cannot be [...] diminished or aug­mented. He alwayes remaineth after the same fashion. Howsoeuer Fortune car­rie her selfe, although the yeares be old, or that he die before he be aged, it is one and the same measure of the soueraigne good, although it be different in age. Whether thou make a circle greater or lesser; it is but in respect of the space, but not of the figure: and although the one hath remained a long time painted, and that thou hast incontinently defaced the other, and couered it with dust in the place where thou hast cast it; yet both the one and the other were the same figure. That which is right and iust is not esteemed by the greatnes, nor by the number, nor by the time; it can neither be lengthened nor strengthened. Take as much as thou wilt, an honest life that endured an hundred yeares, and reduce and determine it in one only day, the one is as honest as the other. Vertue ex­tendeth it selfe more at large: shee gouerneth Kingdomes, Cities, and whole Prouinces, she maketh lawes, she priseth and honoreth friendships, she distribu­teth offices and duties betweene the neerest parents and their children; and pre­sently she circumscribeth her self in a straiter scope of pouertie, banishmēt, and losse of children. Yet is she not lessened, although that from a great and high estate she is fallen, into a priuate and particular, and from a royall throne, to an abiect and base place. And if from a publike and ample power, she restraine her selfe in a homely cottage, or in some corner she is alwayes as great, if after shee hath beene driuen from all places, she solely retire her selfe into her selfe. For this notwithstanding, she hath a courage great and inuincible, a prudence tha [...] is perfect, a iustice immutable, and consequently she is alwayes happy. For this blessednes and this good is lodged in one only place, that is to say, in the minde. It is euerlasting, & full of tranquillitie, which cannot be without the knowledge of diuine and humane things. It followeth now, that which I said I would an­swere. A wise-man tormenteth not himselfe for the losse of his children, nor his friends, for he endureth their death with as equall constancie and courage, as he expecteth his owne. He feareth the one as little as he grieueth for the other, because vertue consisteth in conueniencie, all her workes are agreeable with he [...] selfe, and answer one another. This concord would be last, if the minde which should be assured and constant, should suffer it selfe to be ouercom with sorrow and sadnesse. All sorts of astonishment, all feare, all idlenesse and slackenesse in any act whatsoeuer, is dishonest. For all that which is honest is full of assurance; and diligence; it is neuer astonished, but alwayes prepared. What then, shall he not feele some passion like vnto trouble? Shall he not change his colour? Shall not his countenance discouer some perturbation, shall not his members wax chill? and all other things which a man doth not by the command of the minde, but by a sudden and inconsiderate heate of nature? I confesse he shall. But he shall alwayes be thus perswaded, that none of all this is euill, nor wor­thy that a good vnderstanding should be astonished at. All that which he ought to doe, he will doe boldly and readily: for who is he that will not say that it is the proper nature of follie, to performe that cowardly and against his heart which he doth, and to driue the bodie into one place, and the minde into ano­ther; [Page 305] and to suffer himselfe to be drawne by so many contrarie motions. That euery thing for which she esteemeth her selfe so much, and for which she en­tereth into admiration of her selfe, maketh her contemptible [...] and besides, that which is worse, she performeth not that with a good will, from whence she ta­keth her glorie. But if she feareth that any euill should befall her, she perplex­eth her selfe in exspectation thereof: she tormenteth her selfe as if the euill had alreadie attainted her; and all that which she feareth she may suffer hereafter, she presently suffereth by the meanes of her feare. Euen as there are certaine signes that appeare in the bodie before the feuer commeth (for a man feelet [...] a dulnesse in the sinewes, a lassitude, a gaping or yawning, and a horrour which passeth thorow all the members) In like sort a sicke minde feeleth some shakings and assaults, which enfeeble him before the euill touch him: he enters into sorrows, and loseth his heart before the time. But what more greater follie may a man see, then for a man to dismay his mind for such things as are yet to com? and not to be able to reserue himselfe to suffer the torment when it shall come, but to summon miseries a farre off, and to approach them, before they presse him; which he were better to delay if he might not auoyde. Wilt thou know that no man ought to be tormented for that which is to come? Whosoeuer shall heare it said, that some fiftie yeares hence he must be led to execution, he will not torment himselfe, because he hath past the halfe of this time, and that he is not plunged in this disquiet of mind, which should not com but in an age after. The like befalleth those spirits that are voluntarily sicke, and do nothing but seeke occasion of sorrow, who are sad for things long since forepassed and forgotten. All that which is past and which is to come, is absent. We neyther perceiue the one nor the other. But there is no griefe but of that which thou feelest.

EPIST. LXXV.

That Philosophie affecteth not wordes, and yet neyther renounceth wit nor good dis­course. The chiefest, matter is, that the life be correspondent to the wordes. Further­more let vs endeuour to proceede, because we are to ascend by degrees, and they are three. The degrees of those that are proficient.

THou complainest that the Letters which I send thee, are not writ­ten ouer-curiously [...] but who is he that writeth in so an affected stile, but he that would write to insinuate? Such as my speech should be if we were sitting together, or if men walked out toge­ther, easie and without Art: such will I that my Epistles be, that they neyther be extrauagant nor affected. If it were possible that a man might vnderstand that which I thinke, I had rather expressed it by signes, then by words. And if I should dispute likewise, I would not stampe vpon the ground, nor cast my hands abroad, nor lift vp my voyce: I would leaue that to Orators, and content my selfe to haue made thee vnderstand my conceit, without inrich­ing my speech, or neglecting it also. I would plainely perswade thee this one point, that I firmely beleeue that which I say, and that I not onely beleeue the same, but loue it also. Men kisse their Mistresse in one sort, and their children in another; & notwithstanding in this embracement, so holy and so chaste affecti­on sufficiently discouereth it selfe. Truly I would not that my discourses which [Page 306] men holde of so great matters, should be dull and drie: for Philosophie renoun­ceth not a happie and gentle spirit, yet will she not likewise that we employ o­uer-much affectation in our discourse. In briefe, see here what is the summe of our intention. Let vs speake what we thinke, and think what we speake; let our speech be answerable to our life: he hath fulfilled his promise who is the same when thou seest him, and when thou hearest him: we shall see what he is, and how great he is; but he must alwayes be one. It is not necessarie that our words be pleasing, but that they profit. But if eloquence may befall any man, with­out much labour and affectation, if it be alreadie acquired, or hath cost him lit­tle, let him bouldly make vse thereof, and employ it in worthie subiects. Let it be such that it rather expresse the matter, then it selfe. All other Arts appertain only to the wit, but nothing is intreated of here but the affairs of the mind. The sicke-man seeketh not out an eloquent Phisitian, but such a one as knoweth how to cure well: yet if so be it so fall out, that he who knoweth how to heale well, discourseth eloquently of that which he ought to performe, he ought not to be displeased thereat. Neyther also ought he to reioyce, because he is falne into the handes of a Physitian that can speake well: for it is as much as if a skil­full Master of a Ship w [...]re a goodly man also. Why scratchest thou mine eares? Why delightest thou me? Thou must; there is another thing now in hand, thou must minister me an actuall ca [...]ter [...]e, I must be lanced, I must haue a Dyet prescribed me: for this cause art thou called. Thy duety is to heale an old sick­nesse that is dangerous and publique. Thou hast as much to doe as the Physi­tian in the plague time. Wilt thou spend the time about wordes? If thou finish the cure then mayest thou reioyce. When shall it be that thou wilt lodge that which thou hast learned so inwardly in thy selfe, that it may neuer more depart from thee? When wilt thou make triall thereof? for it sufficeth not to commit them to memorie, as thou doest other sciences: Thou must assay to put them in execution. He that knoweth all this is not happie, but he that doth it. What then, are there no degrees vnder him? May a man vpon the sudden attaine vn­to wisedome? I cannot beleeue it: for he that profiteth is counted amongst the number of fools, yet is he estranged from them by a great distance, and amongst those that are proficient also there are great differences: they are diuided, as some say, into three rankes; The first are they that haue not as yet attained wisedome, but are alreadie setled neere vnto it, although that which is neere is as yet without. Thou wilt aske me who these are? They are those who haue alreadie laide aside all their affections and vices, & that haue learned that which they ought to embrace, but their assurance is not as yet experimented. They haue not as yet the vse of their good; yet can they not fall againe any more on that which they haue alreadie fled. They are so farre forward that they can­not r [...]tire backe, but they know it not as yet. And as I remember I haue writ­ten in a certaine Epistle, they know not that they doe know it. They can al­readie make vse of their good but their confidence is yet vnassured. Som there are that speake thus of this sort of men, who profite and whom I speake hereto­fore and say that they haue alreadie escaped the sicknesses of the minde, but not the passions; and that they are as yet affraide to fall, because no man is out of the danger of vice, but he that hath wholly driuen it from him; but no one dri­ueth it away but he that hath assumed wisedome in his place. I haue oftentimes tolde what differences there are betwixt the sicknesses of the soule, and the pas­sions of the minde. Yet will I refresh the memorie therof vnto thee. The sick­nesses are inueterate and obdurate vices, such as are auarice, and ouer great am­bition, [Page 307] at such time as they haue intangled the minde, and haue begun to be a perpetuall sickenesse. And to be short, the sickenesse is an obstinate iudgement in wicked things, as if a man should greatly desire that which he ought not to desire but slightly; or if thou like it better, we may define it thus. To desire that ouer-vehemently which we ought to wish for slightly, or which a man should not any wayes wish or desire; or else to prise that ouer-much which a man should prise verie little or nothing at all. Affections are improbable, sud­den and violent motions of the minde, which being frequent an [...] neglected, haue caused a sickenesse, as a descent and distillation of rhume doth; which be­ing as yet vnformed, engendreth a cough: but if it continue and waxeth olde, it becommeth Phthisis. Euen so they who haue alreadie profited much, are out of sickenesse, yet feele they as yet some passions, yet are they neere vnto perfecti­on. The second sort is of those who haue escaped the greatest passions and sickenesses of the soule, but it is in such a sort that they are not certaine in the possession of their securitie; for they may fall againe into their infirmities. This other third sort is exempt from a number of the greater vices, but not out o [...] all: he hath fled from auarice, but is as yet sensible of wrath: he is no more subiect to pleasures and voluptuousnesse, but he is full of ambition: he is not couetous, but he is as yet fearefull and timorous; but in this fear [...] he is sufficiently assured in some things, and sheweth himselfe remisse in some other things: he contem­neth death, but he feareth dolour. Let vs thinke a little vpon this third place: it will be well with vs, if we be admitted vnto this third number. It is with a great felicitie of nature, and with a studie accompanied with a great and indu­strious diligence, that a man entreth into the second ranke: yet must we not de­spise those of the third order. Thinke with thy selfe how many euils thou see­est about thee; beholde how there is not any offence how detestable soeuer it be, of which we cannot shew some examples. See how wickednesse encreaseth daily, and what faults are committed both in publique and priuate; and thou shalt vnderstand that we haue profited enough, if we be not ranked amongst the worst. But I hope, sayest thou, that I may be made one of the honourable or­der. I should rather wish vs this good fortune, then promise it. We are alreadie seased and arrested: we runne after vertue, but we are intangled and sna [...]ed in vices. I am ashamed to speake it; we follow not honest things, but then when we can doe nothing else. But how great a reward attendeth vs, if wee would wholly breake off our occupations, and shake off those euils which holde vs captiue. Neither desire, neither feare should compell vs, but being freed from all terrors, intire and incorrupted against all pleasures, we should no more be af­fraide of death, or of the Gods: We should vnderstand that neyther death is e­uill, and that the Gods are good: as infirme and feeble is that which may hurt, as that to whom it hurteth. The best things, and such as neuer hurt, doe expect vs when we shall depart one day out of this order, to mount those high and su­blime places with a placabilitie of minde, and after the errours shall be driuen away, with an intire and perfect libertie. Askest thou what it is? Not to feare men or Gods, neither to will that which is dishonest nor desire ouer-much, and to haue the greatest power ouer himselfe. It is an inestimable good for a man to be able to become his owne.

EPIST. LXXVI.

That he heareth Philosophie, and goeth to the Schooles. Hee complaineth of the negli­gence and sloath of men, which learne other things, and neglect Philosophie. Doe not thou so, my LVCILIVS, make hast and learne goodnesse. What good? That which is onely honest. And againe he approueth by arguments that it is so, and that other things are not. A laudable and wise Epistle.

THou threatnest me that thou wilt be mine enemie, if so be I con­ceale ought from thee of those things which I daily doe. Beholde how freely and simply I liue with thee: for this also will I impart vnto thee, I hear a Philosopher, and for these fiue daies past alrea­die haue I haunted the schoole, and haue heard him dispute from eight of the clocke. I am olde enough, wilt thou say, to goe thither: and why should not this age be good? What greater follie may there be, then because of long time thou hast not learned, not to learne at all? What then, shall I doe nothing else but that which those yongfull and refreshed wantons do, I should thinke my selfe happie, if there were nothing ill beseeming mine age but that. This Schoole admitteth men of all ages. Let vs waxe olde in this Schoole, we must follow it, as if as yet we were young. Shall I goe vnto the Theater as olde as I am? shall I cause my selfe to be carried to the sports and publique specta­cles? shall not one couple of combatants be singled out to fight, except I be a looker on? and shall I be ashamed to goe and see a Philosopher? So long art thou to learne as long as thou art ignorant; and if wee giue credite to the Pro­uerbe, so long as thou liuest: neither can this more fitly be applied to any thing then to this, so long art thou to learne in what manner thou shouldest liue, as long as thou liuest. Yet teach I also something in this Schoole. Askest thou me what I teach? Forsooth this, that how olde soeuer a man be, he ought al­waye [...] to learne. Vndoubtedly I am ashamed to see how men liue. As often as I enter into the Schoole, I must of necessitie, as thou well knowest, passe by the Neapolitane Theatre: it is their way that goe to Metronactes house. This Theatre before I come is replenished with people, although the greatest studie that they vse, is but to iudge who it is that playeth best vpon the Flute. A great number of men flocke thither to heare the Fifes and the Grecians Trumpets sound; but in that place where a man learneth to be a good man, few men stay there. And these also in diuers mens iudgement seeme to haue no good busi­nesse in hand, they call them men of little spirit and loyterers. I should be glad to see my selfe mocked in this kinde. A man ought to endure patiently the in­iuries of the ignorant. It becommeth him that followeth honest things to con­temne this contempt. Courage, my Lucilius, goe forward, and make hast, lest that befall thee which is falne vpon me, that is to learne in thine olde age: but haste thy selfe, since for the present thou hast vndertaken that which thou canst hardly compleately learne, although thou shouldest attaine the fulnesse of thine age: how much, sayest thou, shall I profite? As much as thou wouldest assay. What expectest thou then? No man hath euer beene wise by casu [...]ltie. Riches will come of it selfe, honor shall be offered, grace and dignitie happily shall be thrust vpon thee: but vertue will not befall thee, when thou little thinkest of it, neither also with slight trauell, and little paine. He must not be wearie of the trauell which he taketh, who should at one time gaine all the [Page 309] goods of this world. For there is but one only good, that is to say, that which is honest. In those things that are plausible to fame, thou shalt finde nothing true, nothing certaine. I will tell thee why that is onely good which is hone [...]t, because thou supposest, that in my former Epistle I haue not sufficiently expres­sed vnto thee the reason, and for that thou thinkest then, I haue better praised, then proued this proposition, and I will succinctly, and in few words, signifie and abridge all that which I haue spoken. All things haue their proper good. The Vine is commended for his fruitfulnes, the wine for his taste, and the Hart for his swift footing. Why askest thou, wherefore horses haue strong backes? because he onely serueth to beare burthens. The first thing that is required in a dog, that is, to be employed in searching out [...]nd hunting wilde beasts, is his quicke sent; if to ouertake them, is his swiftnesse [...] if to bite and inuade them, his fiercenesse. In all things that whereunto a man is borne, and for which hee is prized and esteemed, is alwayes the best. What is the best thing in a man? It is his reason. By it he surpasseth beasts, and followeth the gods very neere. So then perfect reason is a mans proper good, all other things are such, as brute beasts pertake them in common as well as he. If he be mightie, so are Lions; if he be faire, so is the Peacocke; if he be swift, so is the horse: I will not say that hee is ouercome and surpassed in all these things. I d [...]spute not what that is, which is most excellent in him, but what it is that is most proper vnto him. He hath a bodie, so haue the trees; hee hath vehemencie and voluntary motion, both beasts and wormes haue no lesse. He hath a voice; but how farre more clear [...]r haue dogges? More shriller haue E [...]gles, more strong haue Bulls, more sweete and delicate haue Nightingales? What then is it which is proper and best in a man? Reason. This it is that being compleat and perfect, accomplisheth a mans felicitie. If therefore euery thing that hath perfected his owne good is praise­worthie, and hath attained the end of his nature [...] and mans particular good is reason; if he hath perfected the same, he is worthy of praise, and hath attained the end whereunto his nature directed him. This perfect reason is called Ver­tue, and is no other thing then that which is honest. That therefore is the onely good in a man, which is the onely marke of a man. For now we enquire not what God is, but what mans good is; but man hath no other good but reason: this therefore is his onely good, which is the most precious and priseable of all others. If any man be a wicked man, he in my opinion will be misliked of. If a good man, he will as I suppose, be allowed of. That therefore is proper and par­ticularly a mans, whereby he is praised or improued. Thou doubtest not whe­ther this be good, but whether it be his onely good. If any man should enioy all other things; health, riches, many images of his predecessors, adorning his fore-court, a multitude of attendants at his Pallace-doore, and yet in all the worlds iudgement hee were wicked, thou wouldest disallow him. If likewise there were a man that hath none of all these things, which I haue related, nei­ther money, nor attendants of courtiers, neither nobilitie, nor any images of his grand-fathers, and great grand-fathers are arranged by order: but that were an honest man, in all mens opinion, thou wouldest praise him. There is then one only good in a man, whereof if any man findeth himselfe possessed, although he be destitue of all others, yet is he to be praised; and if he hath it not, although he haue all other things in abundance, yet is he despised and reiected. Such as the condition of all things is, such is the condition of men. That ship is called good, not that which is painted with p [...]ecious colours, or that hath a siluer or golden beake, nor whose tutelar signe is enriched with Iuorie, or that is laden with [Page 310] goods and royall riches, but that which is strong and firme, that is so well tim­bered and calked on euery side, that it admitteth no leake, that can sustaine the breaking of the sea, that is light of steerage, and is good of saile, howsoeuer the winde driue it. Thou wilt say, a sword is good, not for that it hath a golden belt, or a sheath couered with precious stones, but that which hath an excellent edge, and a strong point, able to pierce an armo [...]r of steele. Wee enquire not how faire the rule be, but how straight. Euery thing ought to be praised, when it is sorted and purueyed of that which is proper vnto it. Therefore in a man also it is nothing to the purpose, how many acres of land hee plow vp, how much money he lend to vse, by how many he be saluted; how rich and preci­ous the bed bee whereon hee resteth, how goodly a cup hee drinke in, but how good a man he is, and a good man is he, if his reason be perfect and vpright, and accommodated to the will of Nature. This is called Vertue, this is honest, and the onely good of a man. For since that only reason maketh a man perfect, on­ly perfect reason maketh him likewise happy. But that only good of a man, is that which may only make him happy. Wee say likewise, that those things which proceed and are engendered by vertue, that is to say, all her actions, are goods; but vertue is the sole and onely good, because there is not any good without her. If all good remaine in the soule, all that which maketh the same [...]irme and constant, all that which raiseth and enobleth it is good. But it is ver­tue that maketh the soule more strong, more excellent, and more couragious. for all other passions that animate and incite our pleasures, doe deiect and rui­nate the soule likewise, and when they seeme to raise the same, they doe but pu [...]fe her vp with pride, and deceiue her with their vanities. There is then but one only good, whereby the minde is bettered. All the actions of the whole life are measured, either in that they are honest, or in that they are villanous [...] Thereby it is that reason is gouerned, either to doe, or not to doe any thing [...] I will tell thee what this meaneth. A good man will doe that which in his thought may be honestly done, although it be accompanied with much tra­uell, and attended with losse and danger. Contrariwise he will do nothing th [...] is dishonest, although thereby he reaped riches, pleasures, and authorities. No­thing shall withdraw him from doing a good thing, nothing shall inuite him to doe that which is villanous. Vndoubtedly then, if he must follow that which is vertuous, he will likewise flie all that which is villanous; and in all the actions of his life he will regard these two things, that there is no other good, but that which is honest, nor any other euill, but that which is villanous. Now if there be but one onely vertue that remaineth vncorrupted, if shee onely remaine al­wayes in her entire vertue, it is the only good, to which nothing may happen that may hinder her from being good. For wisdome is out of the danger of all change, wisedome cannot bee rauished, shee cannot fall into folly. I haue [...]old thee, if happily thou remember the same, that diuers haue contemned and tro­d [...]n vnder feete that which is vulgar, by an inconsiderate heate, either desired of feared. Some haue there beene, that haue thrust their hands into the flame, whose smiles the tormentour could not interrupt, that in the buriall of their children haue not shed one teare, and that haue presented themselues to death without any feare. Loue, wrath, couetousnesse, hath oftentimes made them seeke out perrills. If therefore a short resolution of the soule pricked forward by some pregnant occasion, may doe this, with what more greater resolution shall vertue doe it, that gathereth her forces, not from rashnesse or any sudden motion, but a constancie and perpetuall power? It followeth then, that those [Page 311] things which are often contemned by the inconsiderate, and by wise men al­wayes, that they are neither good nor euill. Vertue then is the onely good, that marcheth proudly betweene both the one and the other Fortune, and despi­seth them both [...] And if thou enter into this opinion, that there is any other good, but that which is honest, all vertues shall be in trouble. For no man might attaine any of them, if she desired any thing that were out of her selfe; and if this were, it should be contrarie to reason, from whence vertues proceed; and to truth, which is alwayes accompanied with reason. But all opinion which is con­trary to truth, is false. Thou must needes confesse, that a good man carrieth great pietie and reuerence towards the gods, and for this cause he will patiently endure all that which may befall him. For he well knoweth that all this is be­falne him by the will of the gods, by which all things are conducted. And if it be thus, he will thinke that to be the onely good, which is honest. For in ho­nestie consisteth the obedience to the gods, the patient sufferance of those acci­dents, which may follow the constant entertainment of fortunes, and the wil­ling acceptance of that the gods will, and the performance of their commande­ments. If there were any other good, but that which is honest, we should bee attended with an insatiable desire of life, and an affection to all that which en­tertaineth life: a thing intollerable, infinite, and that which extendeth it selfe ouer farre. The onely good then is that which is honest, that hath a certaine measure. We haue said that the life of man should be more happy then that of the gods, if that whereof the gods make no vse were goods, of which kinde are riches & estates. Furthermore, if the soules suruiue the bodies after they are de­parted from them, a more happie estate attendeth them, then that which they then possessed, when they were imprisoned in the body. And yet if those things which we vse by the meanes of the bodie were goods, they should be more vn­fortunate after they were departed from the same, but no man can any wayes beleeue, that being inclosed and imprisoned, they should be more happie, then when they are released and set at libertie through the whole world. I haue moreouer said this, that if it be a good that equally befalleth both man and brute beasts, that beasts likewise should enioy a happy life, which cannot bee true in any manner. Wee must suffer all things for honestie sake, which wee should not doe, if there were any other good but that which is honest. All this, although I haue more amply debated vpon in my former Epistle, I haue thought good to abbreuiate in these few words. Yet neuer will this opinion seeme true vnto thee, except thou rowse thy minde, and question with thy selfe, whether, if need required, thou wouldest die for thy country, and to saue the life of all other thy fellow citizens, thou wouldest lose thine owne, and yeeld thy necke, not only with patience, but with a free will? If thou canst doe this, there is no other good. Thou leauest all things, that thou mayest haue this. See how great the force of honestie is. And although thou shouldest not doe it pre­sently, yet should it be at least, as soone as thou oughtest to doe it. Sometimes in a very short space of time a man receiueth a great ioy of a very faire thing. And although some fruite of a worke alreadie performed, can doe little profit to the dead, when he shall be out of this world, yet the only thought of that which he would doe, reioyceth and comforteth him; and a iust and constant man, when he setteth before his eyes the price of his death, which is the liberty of his country, and the life of all those, for whom he employeth his life, he fee­leth a great pleasure, and alreadie pertaketh the fruit of his perill. But he also who is depriued of this pleasure, which the exe [...]ution of this work would yeeld [Page 312] him, as the greatest and last pleasure of his life, without any more delay will en­counter his death, and content himselfe that he hath done iustly and piously. Contrariwise, set thou now before his eyes diuers reasons that may disswade him. Tell him, that this worthy act which thou hast done, shall be suddenly forgotten, the Citizens will not be so thankfull as thou deseruest; he will an­swere thee. All this is out of the action I haue done, I contemplate and consider it in it selfe, I know it is honest. Therefore it is that, into what place soeuer I am led, into what place soeuer I am called, I am there. It is then the only good which a perfect soule, not only feeleth, but a generous man, and such a one as is of a good nature. All other things are of little esteeme, and subiect to change. And therefore it is that a man cannot possesse them without much care and trouble of minde, although the fauour of Fortune had assembled them all toge­ther into one mans possession, yet are they for no other vse, but a burthen to their master; they pr [...]sse him alwayes, and sometimes ouerwhelme him. There is not any one of those, whom thou hast clothed in purple, that is happie, no more then are they that beare a royall Scepter in their hands, and a Mantle on their backes vpon a stage in acting a play. For after they haue marched in their proud array and buskins before the people, as soone as they depart from them they are disapparelled, and returne to their former estate. There is not one of those, whom riches and honors haue raised to the highest places, that is great. Why then seemeth he to be great? Thou measurest him by his show. A dwarfe will be alwayes little, although hee be set vpon a mountaine; and huge statue will retaine his greatnesse, though it stand in a ditch. We are blinded with this error, and thus are we deceiued, because we esteeme no man by that which is in him, but we adde vnto him his ornaments. But when thou wilt haue a true estimate of a man, and know what a one he is, behold him naked: let him lay aside his patrimony, his honours, and those other flattering and false goods of Fortune. Let him dispossesse himselfe of his bodie, behold his minde, what and how great it is, whether of his owne good, or by anothers: if he dare looke on a drawne sword with a manly eie, if he know that there is no great matter whi­ther his soule depart, by his mouth, or by his throat; call him happy. That at such time when he shal heare that he must endure bodily tormēts, or such euils as happen by casualtie, or by the plot of great men, that if he must suffer bonds and exile, and the vaine feares of humane mindes, securely heareth them, and saith.

Not any new suspition of mishap,
O Virgin, shall my setled minde intrap:
All these haue I forethought long time agoe,
My dangers are sorecast in weale and woe.

Thou tellest mee all this to day, I haue alwayes denounced it to my selfe. I haue disposed man vnto all humane things. The stroake of mischiefe which a man foreseeth, is lesse troublesome and more light. But to fooles, and such as credit Fortune, the face and appearance of things seemeth new and vnexpected, and noueltie for the most part is the greatest cause of euil to the ignorant. That thou mayest know this, they suffer patiently those things that they thought dif­ficult, when they are accustomed thereunto. Therefore it is, that a wise-man inureth himselfe to euils that may befall him, and that which others by a long patience make light and easie, the wise-man doth it after hee hath long time [Page 313] thought: we heare oft-times the discourses of these ignorants, which say, I had not thought that this would as yet befall me; but the wise-man knoweth that all things are incident to him, and confesseth, that hee knoweth very well all that which may happen.

EPIST. LXXVII.

And this by the way, is to be numbred amongst those that are good and profitable. He intreateth by the way of the Alexandrian Fleete, how whilst other ranne out to see them, he neglected them. For what auayle these? or how long? I am olde, I am going hence, and at length I must willingly depart as MARCELLINVS did. Then against the feare of death, and that the reasons thereof are to be contemned.

THis day vpon the sudden that Alexandrian Ships appeared vnto vs, which are vsually sent before the Fleete, to giue tidings of the fortunate approach of the Nauie, which men call Friggats or Ships of message. The view of these was gratefull and welcome to all Campania. All the people of Pozzolo climed vp vpon the Piles to behold them, and by the manner of their sayles knew them from the rest, notwithstanding that they were intermingled with a great bulke of other shipping: for they onely haue libertie to spread their top-saile, which in their top all ships haue. For there is nothing that helpeth their course so much as that vpper part of the saile: for by it the Ships course is most of all furthered; and therefore as often as the winde encreaseth, and is more violent then it ought to be, the top-yard is striken for the winde, hath lesse force ouer the bodie of the ship. But when they haue entered Capreas and the Promontorie, from whence,

PALLAS from high of stormie Mountaine spies.

All other ships are commanded to content themselues with their maine sayle; the top-sayle is the marke to know the Alexandrian ships. Amidst the course of all these people that ran thus hastily to the Sea shoare, I felt a very great plea­sure in my sloath, because that thinking to receiue Letters from mine agents, I made no hast to know in what estate my affaires stood, or what they had brought me. For long agoe nothing hath beene gotten or lost by me. This o­pinion should I maintaine, although I were not olde: but now the rather, be­cause how little soeuer I had, I haue more to make vse of them, I haue time to liue, especially since we are entred into that way, which we neede not to accom­plish. The iourney will be imperfect, if thou stay either in the mid-way or stand on this side the prefixed place: the life is not imperfect, if it be honest. Where­soeuer thou endest, if the end be good it is intire: we ought likewise often and couragiously to end, and not for great causes, for these are not the mightiest that holde vs. Tullius Marcellinus (whom thou knowest very familiarly) who was temperate in his youth, and quickly an olde man, being surprised by a sicknesse which was not incurable yet long and tedious, and such as commanded him to suffer much, began to deliberate and conclude vpon his death. To this intent he called together diuers of his friends. Euery one of these being naturally ti­merous, gaue him that counsaile they would haue entertained themselues, or if there were a slatterer, or any one that studied to please him, he gaue him that [Page 314] aduice, that he thought would be best pleasing to him that demanded the questi­on. Our friend Asticho, a worthy man, & that I may dignifie him with those titles, wherein he worthily deserueth praise, a man couragious and valiant, counsailed him in my opinion very nobly: for he began thus; Torment not thy selfe, friend MARCELLINE, as if thou deliberatedst on any important affaire. It is no great mat­ter to liue all thy slaues liue, and all other beasts also. It is a great matter to die honestly, prudently and valiantly. Bethinke thy selfe [...]or how long time together thou hast done the same thing. Meate, sleepe, lust, by this circle all the world commeth. Not onely a va­liant man, a strong man, a miserable man can haue a will to die, but he also that disdaineth life. He needed no man to counsaile him hereunto, but some assistant; for his slaues would not obey him. First of all he tooke from them all feare, and taught them that slaues were in great danger, when as it was incertaine whether the death of the Lord were voluntarie or no. For otherwise it should be as dange­rous an example to hinder a Master to die, as to kill him. Afterwards he admo­nished Marcellinus himselfe, that euen as when supper is ended, the remainder is deuided on those that attend; so when life is ended, somewhat is bequeathed to those who had beene attendants during the whole life time. Marcellinus was a man of a gentle and facile disposition, and liberall euen in those things which were his proper goods: he therefore distributed some small summes amongst his weeping seruants, and comforted them himselfe: he needed not eyther sword or shedding of bloud, for three daies he abstained, and in his very cham­ber he caused his Pauillion to be raised; afterwards his bath was brought thi­ther, in which he lay long time, and caused water to be oftentimes cast vpon him, so by little and little fainted and failed he, not without a certaine pleasure, as he said (which a slight fainting is wont to bring) not vnapproued vnto vs, who are sometimes subiect to soundings. I haue made relation of this storie vnto thee, which I know will not be distastefull to thee, because thereby thou shalt vnderstand the manner of thy friends death, which was neyther difficult nor miserable: for although he procured his owne death, yet departed he and escaped most sweetly out of life. Neyther will this storie be vnprofitable to thee; for necessitie oftentimes exacteth such examples. Wee oft-times must die, yet we will not: we die, and yet we will not. There is no man so ignorant, but that he knoweth that one day he must die, but when the time approacheth neere he playes the coward, trembleth & weepeth. Wouldest thou not esteeme him the foolishest of all men, that should weepe because hee liued not a thou­sand years agoe? As foolish is he that weepeth because he shall not liue a thou­sand yeare after. Those are equall thou shalt not be, neither wast thou: both these two times are not our owne. Thou art cast vpon this point, which al­though thou mightest prolong, how long wouldest thou prolong it? Why weepest thou? What wishest thou? Thou losest thy labour;

Cease thou to hope that prayers so powerfull be,
That they can change the des [...]inies decree.

They are firme and fixed [...] they are led by an eternall and powerfull necessitie. Thou shalt goe thither whither all things goe. Why thinkest thou this a new matter? Thou art borne vnder this condition, thy father hath had the like hap, this hath thy mother met withall, this haue thy predecessors knowne, this shall befall all men after thee. It is an inuincible successe and order that no force can change, and that tyeth and traineth all things with it. O how great number of [Page 315] people shall follow thee when thou ar [...] dead? How many are that shall accom­panie thee? Thou wouldest in my opinion be more constant, if diuers thousands of m [...]n should die with thee. And yet many thousands of men and beasts shall los [...] their liues by diuers sorts of death, at that verie in [...]tant when thou makest it a difficultie to die. But diddest thou not thinke that one day thou shouldest at­taine thither whither thy iourney was alwaies intended? There is no iourney without end. Thinkest thou that I will recount vnto thee at this present ex­amples of diuers great personages? No, I will but tell thee some of young lads: The memorie of that young Lacedemonian will neuer be lost, who hauing scarcely a haire vpon his chin, and being taken prisoner, cried out in that his Do­rique tongue, I will not serue, and confirmed his wordes by effect; for as soone as he was commanded to doe some seruile and base office (for some comman­ded him to emptie the close stoole) he did beate out his brains against the wall. Our libertie being so neere, is there any man will serue? Had d [...]st thou not ra­ther thy sonne should die thus, then waxe olde in idlenes? What is there there­fore why thou shouldest be perplexed, if to die couragiously be but a fchildes play? Thinkest thou that thou wilt not follow, thou shalt be enforced. Make that to be in thy power which is in another mans. Wilt thou not take vpon thee this young mans courage, and say, I will not serue? O miserable wretch! thou art slaue vnto men, thou art slaue vnto things, thou art slaue to thy life: for life if it want the courage to die, is a true seruitude. Hast thou any thing for which thou shouldest expect? Thou hast spent those pleasures that atten­ded and retained thee. There is not any that is new vnto thee, not any but is now odious vnto thee, because thou hast surfeited therewith. Thou knowest what the taste of wine is, and what is the taste of Methegling: it skils not whe­ther a hundreth or a thousand vessels of wine passe by thy bladder: thou art a sacke: thou hast often learned what the Oyster is, what the Mullet fauoreth thou knowest well, thy foolish expence hath reserued nothing for time to com, which thou hast not alreadie deuoured. Now these are they from which thou art drawne so vnwillingly. What other thing besides this is there which should yeeld thee discontent, if it were taken from thee? Are they thy friends and thy country? Hast thou so much euer honored the sunne, that for her thou wouldst haue deferred thy supper? Thou wouldest sooner choake vp the brightnesse of the sunne if thou couldest. For what hath beene euer done by thee that is wor­thie the light? Confesse, I pray thee, that there is not any amitie that thou bea­rest to the Senate or Palace, or to the nature of things which withdraweth thee from dying. It is in spite of thy teeth that thou leauest the shambles, in which thou hast left nothing. Thou fearest death: but how wouldest thou con­temne it in the middest of thy pleasures? Thou desirest but to liue; for thou knowest well what it is, and hast feare of death: but what is this life, is it not death? Caligula passing thorow the Latine way, when as one of those that were ledde prisoners, that had a long beard and hoarie haires, besought him to giue him leaue to die. What said he, liuest thou yet? The same answer must be made vnto those to whom death might bring any comfort. Hast thou feare to die, and why liuest thou yet? But I, saith he, will liue; for I employ my selfe in ma­nie honest affaires. I leaue those offices and functions of life vnwillingly, which I discharge both faithfully and industriously. What, knowest thou not that it is one of the offices of life to die? Thou leauest no office, for the number of the dueties which thou art to accomplish being vncertaine, it is determined. There is no life is not short: for if thou hast respect to the nature of things. Both Ne­stors [Page 316] and Statilias life is short, who ordeined that this should be ingrauen on her tombe, that she had liued ninetie nine yeares. Seest thou how this poore wo­man vaunteth her selfe of her long life? but who could haue supported her glo­rie, if it had beene her fortune to haue liued out full one hundred yeares? It fa­reth with our life as with a Stage-play, it skilleth not how long, but how well it hath beene acted. It importeth nothing in what place thou makest an end of life: die where thou wilt, thinke onely to make a good conclusion.

EPIST. LXXVIII.

Of his sickenesses, yea, euen in his young yeares, and what reliefe he found for them. Ho­nest studies (saith he) and friends also, but the remedy of remedies contempt of death. Thither calleth he LVCILIVS, and disputed many things deepe, manly, and true a­gainst griefe.

THe more impatiently suffered I to see thee vexed often with rhumes and feuers, which follow long defluxions, and such as are alreadie brought into custome, because I my selfe haue had expe­rience of this sickenesse, wherof at the beginning I made little rec­koning. My youth could as yet support this violence, and defend it selfe confidently against infirmities, but at length I sunke vnder the burthen, and was brought to that estate, that I my selfe fell into a mortall distillation. Af­terwards I became by little and little so extenuate and leane, that a sudden de­sire surprised me to procure mine owne death; yet my fathers olde years which I deerely tendered, restrained me therein. For I imagined not how constantly I might die, but how patiently he might endure my losse; for which cause I com­manded my selfe to liue as yet: for sometimes to liue is a manly designe. I will tel thee what recomforted me most at that time, but so as thou be before hand aduertised, that those things wherein I tooke most repose, serued me for a medi­cine. Honest pleasures are to vs in stead of remedie, and all that which may re­ioyce the spirit, profiteth the bodie in like sort. My studies gaue me my health. I must confesse that I am indebted to Philosophie for my recouerie and health, to her I owe my life, and lesse then that I cannot owe her. I haue beene furthe­red in recouerie of my health by the meanes of my friends, by their exhortati­ons and watchings, and by those discourses they entertained me with, I was ve­rie much comforted. There is nothing (my Lucilius the best of men) that more recrea [...]eth and comforteth a sicke man, then the a [...]fection of his friends. There is nothing that so much stealeth away the thought & feare of death: I thought not on death when I saw them suruiue me: me thought, I say, that I should liue yet, not with them but by their meanes: me seemed that I lost not my spirit, but that I rendred it into their handes. All these encouraged me to assist my selfe, and to suffer all sorts of torments: otherwise it is a miserable matter, when as thou hast lost thy desire to die, not to haue an affection to liue. Retire thy selfe therefore vnto these remedies. The Physitian will shew thee how long thou shouldest walk, and how much thou shouldest exercise: he will teach thee not to follow a repose whereunto an idle health is addicted, to reade aloude, to exercise and strengthen thy breath, when the passages of the same, and the pas­sages of the lungs are stopped, to saile, and make thy stomacke to desist by gentle motion and exercise, what meats thou shouldest vse when thou shalt call for [Page 317] wine to strengthen and comfort thee, and when thou shouldest intermit the same, l [...]st it should prouoke and exasperate thy cough. But I teach thee that which is not only a remedy for this infirmity, but of the whole life: Contemne death. There is nothing distast [...]full when we flie the feare hereof. These three things in euery sicknes are very tedious; the feare of death, the paine of the bo­die, and the intermission of pleasures. Of death there is enough spoken, I will only say this, that this feare proceedeth not from infirmities, but from nature. Sicknesses haue delayed the death of many men, and to them it hath proued se­curitie to seeme to perish. Thou shal [...] die, not because thou ar [...] sicke, but be­cause thou liuest. This death will attend thee when thou art recouered: wh [...]n thou art freed from sicknes thou shalt escape, not thy death, but thy infirmitie. Le [...] vs now returne to that incommodity that is proper to sicknes: it is accom­panied with great and intollerable torments, but the intermissions make them tollerable; for when the griefe is most intended, it suddenly groweth to an end. No man can suffer an excessiue paine a long time; for Nature that loueth vs as much as is possible, hath so prouidently prouided, that shee maketh our paines either tollerable or very short. The greatest paines are felt most in those parts that are most lea [...]e; the nerues, the ioynts, and all other parts that are thinnest are cruelly tormented, when as corrupted humors are enclosed in th [...]se narrow passages, but these parts are quickly nummed, & lose the sense of paine, by reason of the pain it self, either because the spirits being hindred, to performe their naturall course, and changed to the worst, lose the force which maketh them vigorous, and inciteth vs; or because the corrupt humor, when it wanteth force to flow thither, whither it should passe, choaketh them, and depriueth those parts of sense which are ouer much choaked. So the gout in feete and hands, and the paines that are felt in our ioynts, and nerues, are appeased when they haue stopped and stupified the parts they haue tormented. It is the first assault, sharpnes and pricking that tormenteth, but this violence is extinguished in time, and the end of the paine is to bee wholly stupified. The paine of the teeth, eyes, and eares, is the most violent, because it is bred in the narrowest and straitest parts of the bodie, and no lesse, vndoubtedly, is that of the head. But the more violent that is, the sooner is it changed into madnesse or stupiditie. This therefore is the comfort in intended griefe, that thou must of necessitie cease to feele the same, if thou feele it ouer much. But that which most of all afflicteth ignorant men, during the torment which they feele in their bodies, proce [...]deth hence, because they are not accustomed to content themselues with the goods of the minde, and for that they entertaine too much friendship with their bodies. And therefore a great and prudent man retireth his minde from his bodie, and is for the most part conuersant with the better and diuiner part, and but onely for necessitie sake with the other, which is fraile and still plaining. But thou wilt say it is a tedious thing for a man to want his accusto­med pleasures, to abstaine from meates, to suffer thirst and hunger. I confesse that vpon the first abstinence it is a tedious thing, but by little and little this de­sire is diminished, when as the things which wee desire are gouerned, and re­straine themselues of themselues. Thence commeth it to passe, that the sto­mack is more tempered, and they that fed with most rauenous appetite growne in hatred thereof. Desires and appetites die of themselues. It is no grieuous thing to want that, that thou hast desisted to long after. Moreouer, there is not any griefe, but hath some intermission and remission. Furthermore, a man can warrantize himselfe from euills that are to come, and preuent those by reme­dies, [Page 318] which threaten and menace him. For there is not any sicknesse, but hath some precedent signe, yea euen that which returneth by custome. Thou mayest beare an infirmitie patiently, if thou contemnest the extremitie wherewith it threatneth thee. Make not thine euils greater then they be, and charge not thy selfe with complaints, the paine is light, if opinion aggrauateth it not; contra­wise, if thou begin to exhort thy selfe, and to say, It is nothing, or in effect verie little, let vs endure the same, and it will suddenly haue an end. Thou shalt make it light whilest thou thinkest it so. All things depend vpon opinion; not only am­bition, but expence and auarice are measured by it; our paine is but opinion. A man is no more miserable, thē he supposeth himself to be. I think that the com­plaints of forepassed pains ought to be forgotten, and such words as these: There was neuer any man more miserable. What torments, what euils haue I suffered? No man thought that I should euer rise again. How often haue my friends bewailed me? How often haue I beene giuen ouer by my Physitians? Such as haue beene tortured on the racke, are not so much stretched. Although all this be true, yet is it alreadie passed. What pleasure takest thou in the remembrance of fore-passed paines, and to refresh thy miserie that is already past: considering likewise, that there is not any one that will adde to his euill, and that lieth not to himselfe? Againe, it is a thing very agreeable to recount the euill that is past. It is also a thing naturall to re­ioyce vpon the end of his miserie. We must therefore driue out of vs two things, the one is the feare of future euill, and the other the remembrance of that which is past: this for the present appertaineth not vnto mee, that not as yet, when he shall finde himselfe in these difficulties, he may say,

And these perhaps heareafter call'd to minde
Will moue vs to reioyce.—

Let him sight against the same with all his forces, if he yeeld, he shall be ouer­come, if he enforce himselfe against his griefe, hee shall ouercome. There are many in these dayes that doe this, they draw vpon themselues the ruine which they should resist. If thou retirest thy helfe from vnder that which presseth and oppresseth thee, that hangeth ouer thy head and menaceth thee, it followeth thee, and falleth vpon thee with a great waight; but if thou makest head against it, if thou wilt resist it, thou shalt repulse it. How many stroaks and wounds do the wrestlers receiue vpon their faces, and their whole bodies? yet suffer they all these torments for the ambition of glory; and endure the same, not only be­cause they fight, but to the end they may know how to fight well; the exercise it selfe is a very torment. Let vs then likewise endeuour to surmount all trauels, the price and reward whereof, is not a simple crowne, a palme, or a trumpet, which commandeth silence, to the end that the praise of our name might bee published, but the vertue and constancie of the minde, and a tranquillity of the spirit which wee obtaine for euer, if in any comba [...]e wee could surmount For­tune. I feele a cruell paine, but how shouldest thou otherwise doe but feele it, if thou endure it in no other sort, then women doe. Euen as the enemie chargeth those most strongly, who flie most speedily: in like sort, all the euils that For­tune sendeth vs, charge him most violently that loseth his courage and playeth the coward. But this griefe is euer violent. And why? Are wee not constant but to suffer light things? Whether haddest thou rather, either that thy sick­nes should be long, or that it should be violent and short? If it be long, it hath in­termissions, and giueth place to refection, it giueth much time, it must in the end [Page 319] forsake thee and depart. A short and violent sicknesse will either doe the one or the other, it will either suddenly end, or suddenly mend thee. But what skil­leth it, whether it be not, or I be not? Since both in the one and the other, the paine hath an end? It may also profit thee much, to diuert thy thoughts to some other thing, and not to dreame at all of thy paine. Set before thine eyes that which thou hast [...] sometimes vertuously and honorably done: discourse with thy self on the noblest stratagems: cast thy remembrance vpon that which thou hast greatly admired, and what at that time the most constant, and they that haue ouercome griefe, present themselues vnto thy thought, how he that stretched out his legge to suffer his Varices to be cut, perseuered in reading his booke. He likewise that neuer ceased to laugh, whilest his wrathfull torturers wondering thereat, wrought vpon him with all the tooles and instruments of crueltie. Shall not that paine be ouercome by reason, which hath beene ouer­come by laughter? Tell me now whatsoeuer thou wilt, both of the discent of Rhumes, and of the vertue of a continuall cough, that maketh a man yeeld vp a part of his bowels, and of a feuor that scorcheth the intrailes, and of thirst, and of the ioynts of feete and hands, which griefe and paine hath contracted, and dislocated. The flame, the racke, the burning and glowing places, and that which is laid vpon the swollen wounds, to renue their paine, and to make it pierce more deepe, is yet more cruell. And yet there haue beene some, that haue suffered all this without complaining. It is a small matter. And hath not once besought them to giue ouer. It is a toy. And that hath neuer answered. It is a trifle. That hath laughed out-right with all his heart. After all this, wilt thou laugh at paine? But sicknes, thou wilt say, suffereth me to doe nothing. It hinders mee in all my functions. Sicknesse attainteth the bodie, but not the minde. Therefore it is that she stayeth the feete of him that runneth, and tieth the shoomakers hands, and hindereth the smithes hammer. But thou hast well learned to make vse of thy soule, thou shalt admonish, thou shalt teach, thou shalt heare, thou shalt learne, thou shalt demaund, thou shalt remember thy selfe. What then? beleeuest thou that thou doest nothing, if thou be tempe­rate in thy sicknesse? Thou shalt shew that the sicknesse may be ouercome, at leastwise that it may be endured. Trust me, vertue findeth place euen in the bed it selfe. Armes, and following the warre, doe not onely testifie a valiant heart, and such a one as may not be daunted with feare. A man may approue his valour and courage euen in his couerlets and sleeping cloathes. Thou hast enough to employ thy selfe in. Fight valiantly against thy sickenesse, if it con­straine thee to doe nothing; if it get no mastery ouer thee, thou shalt serue for a worthie example. O how great were the matter of our glory, if a man should come and see vs when we were sicke? But cast thou thine eyes vpon thy selfe, and praise thy selfe. Beside, there are two sorts of pleasures, sicknes hindereth the corporall, yet taketh them not away wholly; but rather if thou wilt iudge according to the truth, it inciteth them. There is more pleasure in drinking when a man hath thirst, and the meate is most tastefull to him that is most an hungered. All that which a man findeth after a long abstinence, he eateth with a greater appetite. But as touching those other pleasures of the minde, which are both greater and more assured: there is not any Physitian forbiddeth them his patients; those whosoeuer followeth and vnderstandeth them well, contem­neth all the blandishments of the senses. O vnfortunate sicke man. And why? Because hee mixeth not his wine with snow, because he renueth not the cold that he drinketh mixed in a great cup, by these mo [...]sels of ice which hee brea­keth [Page 320] there into, because those Oysters which are fished in the lake Lucern, are not opened for him at his table, because he heareth not round about his hall the rumor of his Cookes, that bring and serue in his meate, together with the fire to keepe them warme. For prodigality and foolish expence hath already [...]ound out this inuention, to the intent that no meat should be cooled, and that lest the pallet of the mouth, already hardened, should finde nothing that were not very hot; the Cooke attendeth the supper. O vnhappie sicke man? he shall eat but what he can disgest: hee shall not haue a whole boare messed into his ser­uice, to be sent away as course commons. He shal not be serued with the pulpes of sowles (for men now adayes disdaine to see them intire) assembled in dishes apart. What wrong hast thou receiued hereby? Thou shalt sup like a sick man; yea hereafter like a whole man. But all those things shall we easily suffer, both brothes, warme water, and other things whatsoeuer seemeth intollerable to delicate and voluptuous men, and such as are more sicke in minde then in body. Let vs onely forget the horror and feare of death. But that shall we not forget, if we cannot distinguish the ends of euill and good. And by this meanes final­ly we shall not feele any disgust of our life, nor any feare of death: for a man can neuer be wearie, or disliking of life, when it is occupied after things so diuers, so high, and so diuine. There is nothing but idle and lasie repose that causeth vs to hate the same. Truth will neuer be tedious vnto him that trauelleth in the secrets of Nature; there is nothing but falshood that glutteth vs. Againe, if death come and call vs, although it be before our time, although it abridge vs of the moitie of our liues, yet long before that time the fruit hath beene gathe­red. All nature for the most part is knowne vnto him, hee knoweth that ho­nest things encrease not by their durance or continuance. They of necessitie must suppose their liues short, who measure the same by vaine, and therefore infinite pleasures. Recreate thy selfe with these thoughts, and in the interim casting thine eyes vpon our Epistles, a time will come that shall reunite vs, and reassemble vs, how little soeuer it be, the knowledge how to vse it wel, wil make it long enough. For, as Possidoniu [...] saith, One day amongst learned men dureth lon­ger, then the longest age of an ignorant and vnlearned man. In the meane time hold this opinion constantly, that thou must not suffer thy selfe to be ouercome by aduersities; nor trust too much in prosperitie, to haue the power of Fortune alwayes before our eyes, as if she should do all whatsoeuer she can doe. What­soeuer is long looked for, is lesse tedious when it happeneth.

EPIST. LXXIX.

Somewhat of Charibdis, Scilla, and AEtna. Then that wise-men are equall amongst themselues: and he exhorteth vnto wisdome, although glory accompany it not. But it will accompany the same, though after death. Good.

I Expect thy letters, by which thou shouldest certifie me what no­ueltie hath encountered thee in all that voyage thou hast made about Sicely, and what thou hast learned of certaintie, as touch­ing Charibdis. For I know that Scilla is a rocke which is not dread­full to those that saile by it. But I haue a great desire to vnder­stand, if all those fables which haue beene reported by Charibdis be true, and if happily thou hast obserued any thing, for it is a thing worthy to be marked. [Page 321] Resolue me whether it be one winde that causeth so manie Whirle-pooles, or whether euery tempest alike doth exasperate that Sea, and whether it be true likewise, that all that which is deuoured in this tempest and storme of Sea by the waues, is carried away secretly vnder the waues of the Sea for many miles, and afterwards cast on shore on the bankes of the gulfe of Tauromenitan. When thou hast wholly satisfied me herein, then dare I command thee also to doe me that honor, to ascend the mount AEtna, which some men suppose and conclude to be consumed and decayed by little and little, because in times past men were wont to shewe it more farther off to Passengers. This may happen, not for that the height of the mountaine is diminished, but because the fire is weakened, and blaseth out with lesse vehemencie and abundantly; and by the same reason that the smoake by day time is more little. But neither the one or the other is incredible: neither that the mountaine which the fire deuoureth continually, is not diminished; neither that the fire continueth alwaies in one and the same greatnesse. For it is not of it selfe, but ingendred in some gulfe vnder earth: it is stirred, and is kindled and nourished by a forraigne meanes, hauing but one only passage & issue by this mountain, and not his nourishment thereby. There is in Licia a Territorie of land, very well known vnto all men, the inhabitants therea­bouts call it Ephestion, or the land which is pierced in diuers places. This coun­trey is inuironed with a fire, that no waies hurteth whatsoeuer plant it is that groweth thereupon: the Region therefore is fruitfull and full of grasse, which the flames doe neuer burne, but make shine with a faint and forcelesse brightnesse. But let vs reserue these to question vpon, then when thou hast writ­ten me how farre distance the snowes are from the mouth of the mountaine, which the summer thaweth not, so secure are they from the fire. Thou must not say that I am the cause to make thee vndertake this labour: for thou woul­dest satisfie this Poeticall fancie of thine, though no man vrged thee thereunto, vntill thou describest AEtna in thy verse, and described this place, so renowned by all the Poets: for although Virgil had fully described it, yet was not Ouid de­terred from handling the same subiect, and that which these two had plentiful­ly written did not deterre Cornelius Seuerus. Besides, this place hath proued to all, and they which wrote before, seeme not in my iudgement to haue pre­uented those things which might be spoken, but to haue explained them. But there is a great difference, whether thou addresse thy selfe to a matter through­ly wrought vpon, or such a one as is well prepared. This groweth daily, and those things that are already found and inuented, cannot hurt those that should inuent hereafter. Moreouer, the condition of the last commer is the best: hee findeth wordes alreadie prepared, which addressed after another manner, haue a new appearance; neither layeth he hold on them, although appertayning to others, for they are publique. The lawyers denie that any thing which is pub­lique may be held by prescription: either I know thee not, or thy teeth water at AEtna. Thou hast a minde to write vpon som great subiect, like to those of the auncients; for more thy modestie permitteth thee not to hope, which is so great in thee, that I suppose thou wouldest restraine the forces of thy spirit, if there were any likelihood thou shouldest conquer: so greatly reuerencest thou antiquitie. Amongst the rest wisedome hath this goodnesse in it, no man can be ouercome by another, if it be not in mounting when they shall come to the height, all is equall, there is no place for increase, she is setled. Doth the Sunne adde any thing to his greatnesse, doth the Moone become more great then shee was wont? The Seas increase not, the world obserueth the same habite and [Page 322] manner. Those things which haue attained to their iust greatnesse, cannot aug­ment themselues more: whosoeuer shall be wise, they shall be euen and equall. But each of them shall be endowed with his proper vertue, the one shall be more milde and affable, the other more readie; the one more prompt in de­clayming, the other more eloquent; that whereof we speake, which maketh a man blessed shall be equall to all. I know not whether thine AEtna may sinke and be ruinated in it selfe, whether the continuall force of fire impaire and con­sume this high and conspicuous topped hill, which is seene so farre at Sea. Nei­ther fire nor raine can bring vertue vnder. This maiestie only cannot be depres­sed, it cannot be extended further, nor withdrawne backward, her greatnesse is setled as that of the celestiall bodies. Let vs endeuour to present our selues vn­to her, alreadie haue we performed much, and yet not very much if I should speake the truth: for it is not goodnesse to be better then the baddest. Who would glorifie himselfe, or boast that he had eyes that could beholde the day, when as the Sunne shineth on them thorow mistie cloudes, although he be con­tented in the meane space to haue fled the darkenesse, yet as yet he enioyeth not the good of the light? Then shall our minde haue wherewithall to gratu­late him selfe, when as discharged of this darkenesse in which he is plunged, he shall see those cleere things, not with a feeble sight, but after he hath seene the light of the cleere day, and restored to his heauen, he recouer againe the place which he enioyed by the condition of his birth. His first originall summoneth him vpward. And in that place shall he be, yea, euen before he be deliuered out of this prison, where he hath shaken of his vices, and become pure and light he shall be raised into contemplation of diuine things. This must we doe, my deere Lucilius, hither must we bend all our forces, although few men know it, al­though no man see it. Glorie is the shadow of vertue, and will accompanie vs against our wils: but euen as the shadow sometime goes before, and sometimes followeth; so glorie is sometimes before vs, and offereth her selfe to be seene, sometimes she is behinde vs, and becommeth more great, because she commeth somewhat later, when as enuie is wholly retired. How long time seemed De­mocritus to be mad? Socrates had scarcely any reputation? How long was it ere Rome knew what Cato was? How long contemned she him, and neuer thorowly knew him, till she had wholly lost him? Rutillius innocencie and vertue had lien hid, except he had receiued iniurie, whilst he is wronged his worthinesse appea­red. Did he not thanke his fortune, and embrace his exile? I speake of those whom fortune made glorious, when she grieued them; how manie mens de­serts and worth grew to light after them? How many hath fame neglected in life, and eternized in the graue? Thou seest how much Epicurus is not onely ad­mired amongst the learned, but also among the ignorant; and this man was vn­knowne to the Athenians themselues, where he liued alwayes obscured. Out­liuing therefore Metrodorus by manie yeares, when in a certaine Epistle of his with gratefull commemoration he had notified the friendship betwixt Metro­dorus and him, in the conclusion he added this; That amidst so many goods which METRODORVS and he had partaken in their life, it little harmed them, that so re­nowned Greece was not onely ignorant of them, but scarcely had heard of them. Was he not therefore found when as he ceased to be? Did not his opinion grow fa­mous? The like also doth Metrodorus confesse in a certaine Epistle, That he and EPICVRVS were not in sufficient reputation, but that afterwards both he and EPI­CVRVS should haue a great and addressed fame at their handes who would follow the way that they had held. No vertue is obscured, neither is it anie indignitie or da­mage [Page 323] to it, to haue beene hidden: the day will come which will bring it to light, though hidden and restrained through the worlds wickednesse. Hee is borne for the profite of few men, that thinketh onely on the people of his age. Manie thousands of yeares and nations shall succeede vs; looke thou on them, although enuie hath enioyned silence to all those that liue with thee, [...]here shall others succeede, who shall iudge without hatred or fauour: and if vertue ought to receiue any recompence by glorie, she shall not lose it. We shall not vnder­stand what wordes posteritie speaketh of vs; yet shall they honour vs, and fre­quent vs, though we perceiue it not. There is not any whom vertue hath not dignified both in life and after death: if so be he hath followed his wholly, and with a good faith, if he haue not decked and disguised himselfe, if he continued on, whether it seemed vpon warning, or vnprepared and suddenly. Dissembling profiteth nothing; a fained countenance, and slightly forged externally, decei­ueth but very few; vertue which way soeuer you turne her is all one. Things deceiueable are of no stabilitie. A lie is thin, thou shalt easily see thorow it, if thou diligently looke vpon it.

EPIST. LXXX.

That the common sort went to the [...]howes and games, he to his studie and contemplation. That the minde is to be beautified and not the bodie, and how easie a thing it is if you desire good things. That we are to search out libertie, which is performed by despising and spurning at desires. That true felicitie is therein, and not in externall splendor. Good.

THis day I am wholly mine owne, not onely by mine owne means, but for that the foote-ball play hath withdrawne all those that were troublesome vnto me, and came to importunate me. There is not one that thrusteth in vpon me, no man distracteth my thoughts, my doore creaked not so often as it was accustomed, my hanging was not lifted vp, I haue freedome to be solitarie, which is most neces­sarie for him that walketh alone, and followeth his owne way. Doe I not ther­fore follow the auncient? I do. Yet suffer I my selfe to inuent somewhat, and to leaue. I seruilely tye me not to their opinions, but assent vnto them; yet haue I spoken a great word, who promised my selfe silence and secrecie if I were not interrupted. Beholde a huge crie is raised in the Theatre, where men ex­ercise their running, which cannot draw my selfe from my selfe, but rather trans­porteth me to contemplate on the combats that are in hand. I thinke with my selfe, how many exercise th [...]ir bodies, how few their mindes; how many men throng to a vaine and trifling spectacle, and what desolation there is about good arts, how weakely minded they are, whose armes and shoulders we wonder at? But aboue all I meditate vpon this. If a man may by exercise bring his bodie to this patience, whereby he may sustaine not only the stroakes and spurns of ma­nie men, whereby soiled with his owne bloud, hee may endure the scorching Sunne, and hottest sand all the day long: how much more easily may the mind be strengthned, inuincibly to entertaine the shocke of fortune, to the end that being cast to ground, and trode vnder foote, he may yet raise himselfe? For the bodie hath neede of manie things to strengthen the same, but the minde increa­seth by it selfe, is nourished by it selfe, exerciseth it selfe. The bodi [...] hath neede [Page 324] of much meat, of much drinke, and much oyle, and much exercise; but vertue will come vnto thee without any furnishing, without any expence. Whatsoe­uer may make thee good is with thee; what needest thou to make thee good? thy will. But what better mayest thou will, then to deliuer thy selfe out of this seruitude, which tyrannizeth ouer the world, and from which the slaues them­selues, of how seruile condition whatsoeuer, & borne euen in the ordures there­of, striue by all meanes to cast off? That stocke of cattell they haue bought by pinching their owne bellies, they pay for their liberty; wilt not thou endeuour at what charge soeuer, to obtain this libertie, who thinkest thy selfe a free borne man? Why castest thou thine eye vpon thy coffers? I cannot be bought. It is a vaine thing therfore to cast the name of libertie into the Tables of Manumis­sion, which neyther they that bought, nor those that sell the same may haue. It is thou that must giue thy selfe this good, thou must demand it of thy selfe: first of all discharge thy selfe of the feare of death; for that is it which first of all bringeth vs in subiection, and afterwards from the f [...]are of pouertie. If thou wilt know how little euill there is therein, make a comparison betwixt the looks of such as are poore, & those that are rich: the poore man laugheth more often, and more heartily: no pensiuenes deeply groundeth it selfe in his breast, although some trifling affliction befall him, it passeth away like a light cloude. The ioy of those who are called rich is fained, or their sorrow is grieuous and rotten; and so much the more grieuous, because they dare not discouer their miseries, but amidst the sorrowes that gnaw their very hearts, they are enforced to set a face of felicitie vpon their discontent. I must oftentimes make vse of this example, for by no other may this minick of mans life (which assigneth vs these parts which we act very aukwardly) be expressed. He that in the Scene stal­keth proudely vp and downe, and looking vpward, vttereth these words;

Beholde I gouerne Greece, PELOPS my sire
Hath left me Kingdomes, and the lands which lie
From Helispont vnto the Seas that tire
Th'Ionian shores—

Is but a slaue, he gaineth fiue bushels of corne and fiue pence. That proude fellow, who full of ostentation and puffed vp with confidence of his owne strength sayeth,

Except proude MENELAVS thou be still,
And shun debate, this right hand shall thee kill.

Hath but his daies allowances, and sleeps in a poore ordinarie chamber. Thou mayest say as much of all these wanton minions, who are hanged in the ayre, in a Litter, carried more high then the heads of men, and aboue the troop of com­mon people. The felicitie of all these is but masked. Thou wilt contemne them if thou despoile them. When thou wouldest buy a horse, thou causest his saddle to be taken off of his backe. Thou causest the slaue thou wouldest buy, to be turned naked, for feare least any infirmities of his bodie should be hidden. Wilt thou estimate a man when he is wrapped vp? These Regrators shadow and couer by some slight that which might hinder the Merchandize of their slaues. And therefore it is that a faire garment and ornament maketh them oftentimes suspicious that intend to buy. If thou shouldest see an arme or a [Page 335] knee bound vp, thou wouldest command to haue it vnswathed and laid open, and all the bodie to be discouered. Seest thou that King of Scithia or Sarmatia adorned with a rich attire vpon his head: if thou wilt estimate him, and know him wholly what he is, take from him his royall ornament; much mischiefe lies hidden thereunder. Why speake I of others? If thou wilt estimate thy [...]elfe, lay apart thy money, thy house, and thy dignitie, and consider well with thy selfe what thou art inwardly. For now thou trustest other men to shew thee what thou art.

EPIST. LXXXI.

The beginning concerneth an vngratefull man: and then followeth a question, whe­ther we ought to bee thankefull vnto him who formerly helped vs, and afterwards hurt vs. He disputeth this matter, both subtilly, and diffusedly, and distinguisheth diuersly.

THou complainest that thou art fallen into an vngratefull mans hands: if this be the first time, either thanke thy fortune, or thy diligence. Although diligence in this place can make thee nothing, except it make thee wicked. For if thou wouldest auoid this perill, thou shalt neuer doe any man a courtesie: thus left thy benefits should perish in another mans hands, they shall perish in thine owne. It were better they were neuer recompenced, then neuer giuen: yea euen after a bad haruest we returne to tillage. Oftentimes whatsoeuer hath beene lost by the vsuall sterilitie of a barren ground, hath beene redeemed by the plentie of one good yeare. It is so great a matter to finde one gratefull man, to make triall of many vngratefull: no man hath so certaine a hand in giuing benefits, but that he is oftentimes deceiued, let them faile som [...]times once to be assured. The seas are sailed on when the shipwracke is past. The Vsurer forbeareth not to lend because he hath met with a banckrupt. Our minde will quickly be benummed with fruitlesse idlenes, if it should incontinently forsake whatsoeuer is distaste­full vnto it. But let this very thing make th [...]e more bountifull. For if thou wilt that a thing (whose euent is vncertaine) should haue a happie issue, it behoueth thee to assay it oftentimes. But hereof haue we sufficiently spoken in our Books which we haue written of Benefits. Better it were to dispute of another point, (which, in my iudgement, is not sufficiently expressed and decided) whether he that befriendeth vs, and afterwards hurt [...]th vs, hath equally his benefit, and whether we are acquit from him. Adde if thou wilt hereunto this also, that af­terwards he had hurt vs more, then before time he profited vs. If thou expect a seuere sentence of a Iudge, that would follow the rigor of law, he will release them respectiuely, and will say. Although the iniury bee more great, yet let that which remaineth of the iniury bee giuen to the benefits. He hath hurt more. But first of all he hath profited, and therefore we must haue some regard of time. Now those things are more manifest, then that they need an admoni­tion, that it is necessarie to know how willingly hee hath profited, how vnwil­lingly harmed. Because both benefits and iniuries are measured by the minde. I would not giue a benefit, but I was ouercome with shame, or by the pertina­cie of his instant suite, or by hope. Whatsoeuer is owing, is examined by the same minde wherewith it is giuen, neither is it weighed by the greatnes thereof, [Page 336] but by the wil frō whence it proceedeth. Let all coniecture be now taken away. Both that was a benefit, & this that exceeded the measure of the former benefit, is an iniury. A good man will in such sort make his account, that he himselfe will deceiue himselfe. He will adde vnto the benefit, & take from the iniury. But an­other that would iudge more gratiously, as I would doe, will forget the offence, and remember the fauour. Assuredly it is the act of iustice (saith he) to giue each man that which appertaineth thereunto, to the benefit acknowledgement, to the iniury reuenge, or at least-wise an euill acceptance. This shall bee true, when as one doth an iniury, another giueth a benefit. For if it be the same, the force of the iniury is extinguished by the benefit. For to him whom wee ought to pardon, although no deserts of his were precedent, to him is more then pardon due, if he hurt vs after he hath done vs kindnesse; yet take I not them both alike, more prise I the benefit then the iniury. Euery one knoweth not how to owe a benefit gratefully. An imprudent, rude, and base conditio­ned fellow may restore a benefit, and recompence the same anon after he hath receiued it, but he knoweth not how much he is obliged. The wise-man onely knoweth at what rate each thing is to be taxed. For that foole, of whom I spake of late, although he haue a good will, either restoreth lesse then he oweth, or doth it not in time and conuenient place, and lauisheth and casteth that away, which he should recompence and satisfie. There is a wonderfull proprietie of words in some things, and the custome of ancient language designeth some things vnto vs in effectuall meats, and duetie teaching lessons. Thus truely are we wont to say. This man hath referred or requited that mans fauour: to re­quite, is willingly to returne that which thou owest. We say not, hee hath re­turned thankes; for both they who are demanded, and are vnwilling, and that in euery place, and those that returne by another mans hand giue satisfaction. We say not, he hath remitted the benefit, or he hath paid it, for those words which are proper to acquit a man of money lent, are no wayes pleasing to me in this subiect. Referre, is as much to say, as to goe and acknowledge, that is, beare backe, vnto him whom thou hast receiued. This word signifieth volun­tarie relation or reknowledgement. Hee that hath referred, that is to say, re­knowledged, hath appealed and sommoned himselfe. The wise-man will exa­mine all things with himselfe, how much he hath receiued, from whom, when, where, and how. Therefore is it, that we deny that any man knoweth how to reknowledge a benefit, but a wise-man, no more then any other man, knoweth how to giue a benefit, except he be a wise-man, and such a one, who is more glad to giue, then another to receiue. This some man numbreth amongst those things which wee seeme to name extrauagant and strange vnto all men, the Greekes call them Paradoxes, and saith: Is there no man therefore that know­eth how to requite a good turne but a wise-man? Therefore no other man but he knoweth how to pay his creditor that which hee oweth him, nor when hee buyeth any thing, to pay the price thereof to him that selleth the same? But lest this blame should fall vpon me, know this, that Epicurus saith as much. Me­trodorus assuredly saith, That the wise-man onely knoweth how to reknowledge a fa­uour. Againe, the same man admireth, when we say, The wise-man only knoweth how to loue, the wise-man onely is a friend: but to requite a fauour, is both the part of loue and friendship; nay rather this is more vulgar and more casuall amongst many, then true friendship. Againe, the same man wondereth, because we say, that there is no faith, but in a wise-man, as if he himselfe had not said the same. Supposest thou this, that he hath any faith, that knoweth not how to acknow­ledge [Page 337] a benefit? Let them therefore cease to defame vs, as if we preferred or maintained vncredible things, & let them know that true honesty is lodged on­ly in a wise-mans breast, and the only images and appearance of honest things with the common sort. No man knoweth how to requite a courtesie, but a wise-man. A foole in some sort also acknowledgeth as he conceiueth the meanes, and how he may, and let his knowledge rather faile him then his will. The will is not learned. A wise-man will compare all things to their worth: his worke although it be the same, is made eyther greater or lesser, by time, place, and cause. Oft-times riches powred into a house, could not do that that a thousand pence could, being giuen in season. For there is a great difference whether thou gauest, or succourest. Whether thy liberalitie hath saued him, or engreatned him. Oft-times that which is giuen is small, that which followeth thereby is great: but what difference is there, whether any man hath taken backe againe that which he had giuen, or receiued a benefit, to the end he might giue? But least we should returne into the examination of those things which he hath sufficiently debated of; in this comparison of benefite and iniurie, a good man will iudge that which is most rightfull, yet will he fauour the benefite, and be most addicted to that side. But the consideration of the person is of greatest mo­ment in these affaires. Thou hast giuen me a benefite in the person of my slaue, but thou hast done me iniurie in my father. Thou hast saued me my sonne, but taken my father from me; consequently he will pursue and examine all the cir­cumstances by which all comparison hath his proceeding: and if it be but a smal matter that causeth the difference, he will dissemble that. But if it be great, and that he hath the power to pardon it, without iniurying pietie or faith, he will re­mit it, that is, if the whole iniurie appertaine vnto himselfe. The summe of the matter is this, he shall be facile and gratious in this compensation, he shall suffer himselfe to be more charged in the account, and will neuer pay a benefit with an iniurie, except it be by great constraint, he will incline alwayes to this side, he will maintaine this part in desiring to acknowledge a benefite, and affecting to requite it. For he is deceiued whatsoeuer he be, that more willingly receiueth a benefite then hee restoreth it. By how much the more ioyfull hee is that payeth then hee that borroweth, by so much ought he to be more content that dischargeth himselfe of a great debt by restoring the benefite which be hath receiued, then the other which obligeth himselfe by receiuing. For in this also vngratefull men are deceiued, in that they satisfie their creditor with an o­uer-plus besides the principall, and suppose that the vse of benefits is gratuitall: yet these increase by delay, and so much more is to be satisfied, by how much it is slackly satisfied. Ingratefull is he that restoreth a benefite without vsurie; and therefore we ought to haue a respect to this length, when we compare the receits and layings out. We must labour as much as in vs lieth, to be most grate­full; for this good is truely ours, euen as it is not iustice as it is common­ly beleeued that appertaineth to others, the greatest part thereof returneth in­to it selfe. There is no man that hath profited another, that hath not profited himselfe. I speake it not with the intent wherewith he that hath been succou­red would succour, and he that hath beene defended would defend, because a good example returneth to him that giueth it, as also euill examples doe finally fall vpon their author; neyther finde they any pittie who suffer iniuries, and by acting the same haue taught others that they may be done, but because the reward of all vertue lieth in them: for they are not put in execution, vnder hope of reward. The reward of a good action is to haue acted the same. I am grate­full, [Page 338] not that another should more willingly lend me, being egged thereunto by the former example, but that I might performe a thing both most pleasing and agreeable. I am gratefull, not because that shall yeelde me profit, but because it contenteth my minde. And to the end thou mayest know that which I speake is so truely: if I haue not the meanes to expresse my gratuitie, except in shewing my selfe to be vngratefull, if I cannot yeeld satisfaction, except it be vnder a pre­text of doing iniurie, I ought most willingly to follow this counsaile, although I be in danger to be noted of infamie. There is no man in my iudgement that [...]stimates vertue more, no man more deuoted therunto then he that lost the re­putation of a good man, because he would not make shipwrack of his cōscience. Therefore, as I said, thou art grat [...]full more for thine owne good then another mans: for to him there happeneth but an ordinarie and common thing to reco­uer that which he had giuen, but to thee a great contentment, and such as pro­ceedeth from the estate of a happie soule, to haue acknowledged a benefit. For if wickednesse maketh men miserable, and vertue maketh them bl [...]ssed, and to be gratefull is a vertue, thou hast restored but an vsuall thing, but attained an in­ [...]stimable matter, that is to say, the conscience to haue been gratefull, which sei­zeth not on a minde but such as is diuine and fortunate. But the contrarie of this affection is vrged with great infelicitie. There is no man that is not misera­ble if he be ingratefull. I dally not with him, he is presently miserable. Let vs therefore flie ingratitude; if for no other cause, yet for our owns. The least part of wickednesse, and that which is least to be feared, redoundeth vnto others; but that which is the worst, and (if I may so speake it) that which is the thickest remaineth with him, and tormenteth his possessor. As our Attalus was accu­stomed to say, Malice and mischiefe drinketh the greatest part of his owne poyson. That venom which the Serp [...]nts cast out of them to destroy others, and keepe within themselues without their owne preiudice, is not like vnto this. For this poison is pernicious to those that nourish the same. The vngratefull man tor­menteth himselfe, he becommeth leane, he hateth that which hath beene giuen him, because he must restore the same, and extenuateth it: contrariwise, he dila­t [...]th the iniuries and augmenteth them. But what man is there that is more miserable, then he that forgetteth the benefits he hath receiued, and remem­breth him of the iniuries? Contrariwise, wisdome speaketh honourably of all sorts of benefits, and commendeth them to her selfe, and delighteth her selfe with the continuall remembrance thereof. The euill sort haue but one plea­sure, and that very short, and that is whilst they receiue benefites, whereof the wise-man feeleth a long & perdurable ioy: for he delighteth not in receyuing, but in this, that he hath receiued, whereof he feeleth a continuall and immor­tall pleasure. He contemneth those thing whereby he is harmed, neyther for­getteth he negligently but willingly. He turneth not all things to the worst, neyther seeketh he to whom he may impart the fault, and rather layeth the blame of mens errors on fortune then on themselues. He taketh exceptions neyther to mens words nor lookes; whatsoeuer falleth out he excuseth it with a gratious interpretation, and remembreth not an iniurie rather then a benefit: He setleth his remembrance on that which was both the first, and the best: he changeth not his minde towards those that haue well deserued, except their in­iuries surpasse very much, & the difference be manifest, euen though he should shut his eyes, and then also in this onely, that he continueth the same man after the greatest iniurie, as he was before the benefite. For whereas the benefit is e­qual with the iniurie, there remaineth some sparke of beneuolence in the mind. [Page 339] Euen as a guiltie man is acquit when the opinions of the Iudges are equally di­uided, and alwayes in whatsoeuer thing is doubtfull, humanitie inclineth to the better: so a wise-mans minde, whereas the merits equall the misdeedes, will forbeare to owe, but will not desist to be willing to be beholding, and doth this which they are wont to doe, who after a generall acquittance of all debts, will notwithstanding satisfie. But no man can be gratefull, except he contemne these things, that maddeth and besotteth the common sort. If thou wilt be thanke­full for a benefite, thou must make account to suffer banishment, to shedde thy bloud, to fall into pouertie, and see thine owne innocence oft-times stained, and subiect to base and scandlous rumours. It costeth a man no small matter to ap­proue himselfe gratefull. We esteeme nothing more deerer then a benefite as long as we aske it, nothing more basely when we haue receiued it. Askest thou me what is that maketh vs forget the courtesies receiued? It is the desire and couetousnesse of those things we would receiue hereafter. We thinke not of that which we haue alreadie obtained, but on that onely which we would ob­taine hereafter. Riches, honour, power, and all such other things which in our opinion we repute of great esteeme, but base and abiect in their owne value, re­tire vs from vertue. We know not how to estimate things, whereof we ought to make our election; not according to the common report, but by the counsaile of nature, the mother of all things. These haue no magnificence in them, wher­by they should draw our mindes vnto them, except this, that we are accusto­med to admire them. For therefore are they praised, not because they are to be coueted, but therefore are they to be coueted, for because they are praised; and when as euerie particular mans error hath made them publique, the publique shall make it to be the errour of euerie one. But euen as we haue beleeued those things, let vs also beleeue the common sort in this, that there is nothing more honest then a gratefull minde. All Citties, all Nations, yea, those of the barba­rous and sauage Regions will subscribe hereunto, the good and euill will agree in this point. There will be some that will praise pleasures, there will be some that had rather labour. There will be som that will say that paine is the great­est euill that may be, some that will scarcely call it euill: Some one shall repute riches for the chiefest good, another shall say that they were found out for the ruine and mishap of humane life, and that there is no one man more rich, then he to whom fortune hath not found out any thing to giue him. In this so great diuersitie of opinions, all the world will maintaine (as it is said) with one voyce that we ought to be thankfull vnto those who haue deserued well at our hands. All Nations, though different in manie other things, consent and agree herein, and yet notwithstanding, in the interim we repay benefites with iniuries: and the chiefest cause that euery one hath to become vngratefull, is this, because he could not be sufficiently gratefull. The furie is growne to that head, that it is a very dangerous thing to giue great benefits to any one: for in that he thinketh it a dishonest part not to requite, he desireth he should not liue, to whom he should make restitution. Reserue that to thy selfe which thou hast receiued, I re­demand, I exact it not, it contenteth me that I haue pleasured thee. There is no hatred more pernicious then his, who is ashamed because he hath violated a benefite.

EPIST. LXXXII.

Against delicacie and effeminate life, and sluggish idlenesse also, and that we ought to dedicate the same to studie, and in especiall to Philosophie, which should defence vs a­gainst feare and all externall euills, yea against death it selfe. That we are armed all in vaine, with subtilties and sophimes against the same, and by the way, against such as vse it, that death in it selfe is indifferent, but such or such honest or dishonest. Againe, against Cauillers. Good.

NOw haue I giuen ouer the care I haue had of thee. What one saiest thou of the gods, hast thou accepted for my suretie: truely euen him that deceueth no man, a minde that is a louer of right and honestie. The better part of thee is in safetie. Fortune may doe thee an iniurie, but that which is most pertinent to the matter, I feare not that thou shouldest iniurie thy selfe. Keepe on the course thou hast begun, and compose thy selfe in this habit of life temperately, not effeminate­ly. I had rather thou shouldest liue ill, then effeminatly. Now so interpret thou ill as it is vsually spoken amongst the common sort, hardly, sharply, and labori­ously. So are we wont to heare the liues of diuers men praised, who are enui­ed. He liueth effeminately. This they say, he is euill. For by little and little the minde is made effeminate, and groweth remisse and negligent, and vndertaketh the similitude of that idlenesse and sloth wherein he is buried. What then? is it not more befitting a man to bee more sterne and rigid. Againe, such as are delicate feare death, whereunto they haue made their life alike. There is a great difference betwixt idlenesse and the graue. What therefore sayest thou, were it not better for a man to repose himselfe thus, then to tosse and tumble himselfe in these gulfes of affaires? Both these two things are mortall, the con­vulsion of the nerues and debilitation of the minde. I thinke him as much dead that lieth buried in his perfumes, as him that is drawne with the hooke. Re­tirement without studie is a death, and the sepulchre of a liuing man. Finally, what profiteth it vs to be retired, as if the causes of cares and troubles followed vs not beyond the seas? What hidden place is there, whereinto the feare of death entereth not? What so defenced and high raised repose of life, which sorrow terrifieth not? Wheresoeuer thou shalt hide thy selfe, humane miseries will make a noise about thee. There are diuers externall things, which wheele about vs, whereby they either may deceiue or vrge vs. Many things internall which incense and enflame vs also, euen in the middest of solitude. We must arme our selues with Philosophie, which will serue vs as an impregnable wall, which Fortune with all her engins cannot pierce. The minde that hath dis­claimed externall things, is resident in an impregnable place, and defendeth himselfe in his fortresse, each weapon aimed at him, falleth vnder him. Fortune hath not long hands, as we imagine, she is Mistresse ouer none, but such a one as cleaueth vnto her. Let vs therefore, as much as in vs lieth, retire our selues from her, which the onely knowledge of her selfe and of Nature will effect. L [...]t him know whither he is to goe, whence he came, what is his good, what is his euill, what he should desire, and what he should eschew, what that reason is, which discerneth, what things are to be desired and esteemed, whereby the fu­ry of desires is meekened, and the cruelties of feares abated. Some there are that thinke that they haue ouercome all this without the assistance of Philoso­phie, [Page 341] but when as any misfortune lighteth vpon any of these, that pretend secu­ritie; too late are they enforced to confesse the truth. These great words are for­gotten, when the hang-man commandeth them to giue him their hand, when death approacheth more nigh them. Thou mayest iustly say vnto him: Thou prouok [...]t absent euils: now see heere griefe, which thou saidst was easie to sup­port: see heere death, against which thou spakest so much, and so audaciously: the whips yerke, the sword shineth;

Now hast thou need, AENEAS, of a minde
Arm'd with constancie.—

But that will continuall meditation make strong in thee, if thou exercise not thy words, but thy minde: if thou preparest thy selfe against death, against which he cannot exhort thee, nor encourage thee, who shall attempt by some cauils to perswade thee that death is not e [...]ill. For I will, my Lucilius, (the best of men) laugh at the follies of the Greekes, which as yet I haue not well examined, though I wonder at them. Our Zeno vseth this collection. There is no euill which is glorious, but de [...]th is glorious, Ergo, death is no euill. Thou hast pro­fited mee much, thou hast put me out of feare, hereafter I will not doubt to stretch out and offer my head. Wilt thou not speake more seuerely, nor make a man laugh that is readie to die? Vndoubt [...]dly, I can hardly tell thee whether he were more foolish, who supposed by this question to extinguish the feare of death, or he that endeauoured to answere the same, as if it were a thing perti­nent to the matter. For he himselfe opposed a contrary argument, taken from that, because we place death amongst things Indifferent, which the Grecians cal Adiaphora. Nothing, saith he, that is indifferent, is glorious; but death is glorious death therfore is not indifferent. Thou seest plainly wherto this argument ten­deth. Death is not glorious; but to die cōstantly is glorious. And when, he saith, nothing Indifferent is glorious, I grant it thee; yet say I this, that there is no­thing glorious, but in things Indifferent. These things terme I indifferent, which are neither good nor euill, as sicknesse, paine, pouertie, exile, death; none of these in it selfe is glorious, yet nothing without these. For pouertie is not prai­sed. But he that is neither humbled, nor deiected by her. Banishment is not prai­sed, but he that sorrowed not for it: griefe is not praised, but hee whom griefe hath enforced nothing. No man praiseth death, but him whom death sooner separated from life, then astonished. All these things are not honest nor glori­ous in themselues, but if Vertue intermixeth her selfe amongst them, if shee manage them, shee maketh them honorable and full of glorie. For of them­selues they are placed betweene both, and are indifferent, it only concerneth vs to know whether malice or vertue hath past the same thorow their hands. For that death which is glorious in Cato, is presently base & shamefull in Brutus, and to be blushed at. For this is that Brutus, who when he should be slaine, sought to delay death, who went aside to doe his easement, and being called vpon to die, and commanded to lay downe his necke; I will lay it downe, saith hee, so that I may liue. What madnesse is it to flie away, sith that thou art vnable to goe backe? I will lay it downe, so that I may liue: almost he added there [...]nto, euen vnder Antonius. O worthy man, to bee yeelded vnto life! But as I be­gan to say [...] Thou seest that death it selfe is neither a bad, nor a good thing, Cato most honestly vsed it; Brutus most dishonestly. Euery thing that hath not ho­nor, vertue being added thereunto, it assumeth it. We say that a chamber is [Page 242] full of light: yet this same is most darke by night. The day infuseth light into it, the night taketh it away. So to these things which be by vs called indifferent and middle things, namely, to riches, strength, beautie, honours, rule; and con­trarily to death, banishment, bad health, sorrowes, and what other things wee haue feared, eyther lesse or more; eyther n [...]ughtinesse or vertue giueth the name of good or bad. Paste of it sel [...]e is neyther hote nor colde, but being put into the Ouen, it waxeth hote; againe, it being put into the water waxeth colde. Death is honest, through that which is an honest thing: that is vertue and a minde contemning outward things. There is also, O Lucilius, a great difference of these that we call honest things. For death is not so indifferent, as that whe­ther thou doe weare thine haire euen or not. Death is amongst those things that be not bad indeed, but yet haue a shew of that which is bad. There is a loue of ownes selfe, and an engrafted wil of abiding & of preseruing ownes selfe, & a shunning of dissolution, becau [...]e it seemeth to take away many good things, and to leade vs out of the abundance of this, whereunto we haue accustomed our selues. That thing also alienateth vs from death, because we haue alreadie knowne these things: those things whereunto we are about to goe; we know not of what sort they may be, and we feare things that be vnknowne. Further­more, there is a naturall feare of darkenes [...]e, into which it is supposed that death will conduct vs. Therefore, although death be an indifferent thing, yet for all that it is not amongst those things, which easily may be neglected. With great exercise the minde is to be hardned, that it may endure the sight and the com­ming thereof. Death ought to be contemned, more then it is accustomed to be; for we beleeue many things concerning it. It hath beene the strife of manie wits to encrease the infamie of it. An infernall prison is described, and a regi­on oppressed with continuall night, wherein is the great porter of hell.

Lying vpon bare bones hal [...]e eaten vp
In bloudy den, where he doth dine and sup,
[...]ternally with barking doth affright
Each pale and bloudlesse ghost and shade-like spright.

But also when thou shalt perswade thy selfe that these things be fables, neither that any other thing remaineth to the dead, which any one ought to feare, ano­ther feare commeth in the place of it. For they are alike afraid of being in hell, as of being no where. These things contradicting which long perswasion hath infused vnto vs, the valiant enduring of death, what else may it be but a glorious thing, and amongst the greatest workes of a manly mind? which will neuer rise vp vnto vertue, if it beleeue de [...]th to be an euill thing; it will rise vp vnto it, if it suppose it to be a thing indifferent. The nature of things is vncapable of this, that one may come vnto that which he supposeth to be an indifferent thing, slowly and lingringly will he come. And that is not glorious, which is done by an vnwilling and backward man. Vertue doth nothing because it is needfull to be done. Adde now that nothing is honestly done, except the whole minde hath endeuoured and hath beene present therat, and with no part of it selfe hath resisted it. But when approach is made vnto that which is bad [...] it eyther com­meth to passe by feare of worser things; or by hope of those things that be good, to come vnto the which it is of so great worth, that the enduring of one euill is swallowed vp. The iudgements of the doer doe disagree. Hence it is, that he commandeth to accomplish things purposed: thence that he draweth [Page 343] back and flyeth from a suspected and perillous thing. Therefore is he distracted into diuers parts. If this be, glorie perisheth. For vertue accomplisheth decrees with an agreeing minde: it feareth not that which it doeth.

See this, that thou to euils giue no place,
But against them goe with a bolder face
Though thy fortune will permit thee.

Thou shalt not the more boldly goe, if thou shalt suppose that they be euill things. This is to be taken out of the breast: otherwise suspicion being about to stay the force, will sticke hereat. It shall be thrust vpon that, which it was to set vpon. Some would haue the interrogation of our Zeno to be supposed to be true, but that other to be deceitfull and false, which is opposed vnto it. I re­duce not these things to a Logicall lawe, and to those knots of most sluggish workemanship: I iudge that all that kinde is to be thrust away, wherby he who is asked, supposeth himselfe to be circumuented, and wherby he being brought to confesse, answereth one thing, but thinketh another. Wee must deale more plainely for the truth, and more strongly against feare. These things which are tossed vp and down by them, I had rather to loosen, and to ponder vpon, to the end that I may perswade, and not deceiue. He that will leade an armie into the field readie to die for their wiues and children, how will he exhort? I shew to thee the Fabij, translating the whole warre of the Common-wealth into one house. I demonstrate the Lacedaemonians placed in the very straites of Ther­mopylae, hoping neyther for victorie, nor for returne. That place was to be a graue vnto them. How exhortest thou them to receiue the ruine of a whole na­tion with offering their bodies vnto it? and rather to depart from their life, then from their place? Thou wilt say, that which is euill, is not glorious: death is glo­rious, therfore death is not an euill thing. O effectuall speech! who after this doubteth to offer himselfe to the deadly weapons points, & standing for to die? But that Leonidas how valiantly did he speak vnto them? So dine O fellow souldiers saith he, as if ye should sup amongst the dead. The meate encreased not in their mouthes, it did not sticke in their chaps, it did not fall out of their handes. They went cherefully to dinner and to supper both. What that Romane Captaine, who spake thus vnto souldiers, which were sent to take a place, and were to goe through a great armie of the enemies: It is needfull, O fellow-souldiers, to goe thi­ther, but it is not needfull to returne backe. Thou seest how plaine, and how imperi­ous vertue is. What man can our beguilings make more valiant? Whom can they make more couragious? They breake the minde, which is neuer lesse to be contracted, and to be compelled with pettie and thornie things, then when some great matter is framed. The feare of death ought not to be taken from three hundred alone, but from all mortal men. How wilt thou teach them, that it is not an euill thing? How wilt thou ouercome the opinions of all ages, wher­with presently infancy is seasoned? What helpe wilt thou finde? What wilt thou say to the weakenesse of man? What wilt thou say wherewith they being inflamed may rush into the middest of danger? With what speech wilt thou turne away this consent of fearing; with what speech wilt thou auert the ob­noxious perswasion of mankinde, which is against thee? Thou compo [...]est cap­tious words, and knittest pettie questions for me. Great monsters are stricken with great weapons. In vaine with arrovves and slings did they shoote at that great cruell Serpent in Affrica, and more terrible to the Legions of Rome then [Page 344] warre it selfe. Not Python indeed was to be wounded, sith huge greatnesse ac­cording to the solide vastnesse of his body, cast backe againe weapons, and what­soeuer the hands of men had darted against him; at length was he broken with milstones; and against death dost thou dart so pettie things? With a bodkin en­countrest thou a Lion? These things are sharpe which thou speakest of. No­thing is more sharpe then the beard of the eare of Corne. Smalenesse it selfe maketh somethings vnprofitable and without effect.

EPIST. LXXXIII.

We mu [...]t liue as before God our beholder and Iudge. Then he adioyneth concerning his owne life, temperance and watchfulnesse. Againe (as in the former Epistle) a­gainst base talkers, who abase wisdome with their meane speech and cauils. He teach­eth against ZENO himselfe, discoursing against drunkennesse. But we must doe more valiantly and famously: and giuing an example thereof, hee condemneth that vice.

THou commandest my seuerall dayes, and all of them indeed to be shewed vnto thee. Well iudgest thou of me, if thou supposest nothing to be in them which I will hide. If certainly wee must liue, let vs liue as being in sight: so let vs thinke, as if one were a­ble, and could looke into our innermost brest. For what pro [...]it­teth it, that any thing should be secret from man? Nothing is closed from God. He is within our soules, and he commeth into the middest of our thoughts. So, I say, he commeth amongst them, as one to depart at length. Therefore I will doe that which thou commandest, and what I doe, and in what order, I will willingly write vnto thee. I will forthwith obserue my selfe: and that which is a most profitable thing, with my selfe will I recall the day to minde. This ma­keth vs to be very bad, because no man looketh backe vpon his life. What things we are about to doe, we thinke vpon, and but seldome that: what wee haue done, we doe not thinke vpon. But from that which is past, commeth counsell for that which is to come. This day is solide. No man hath taken any of it from me: it is all of it diuided betwixt the booke and the bed. The least part is giuen vnto exercise of the bodie; and for this cause I giue thankes to old age. It costeth me not much. When I haue stirred, I am wearied. But this is the end of exercise, euen to those that are most strong. Seekest thou with whom I exercise my selfe? One sufficeth me, Earinus (as thou knowest) a loue­ly boy: but he shall be changed. Now I seeke for one that is more tender. He indeed saith, that we haue the same estate of bodie [...] because that the teeth of vs both [...]all out: but now I scarce ouertake him when he doth runne, and within a very few dayes I shall be vnable to doe it. See what continuall exercise can pro [...]it. Speedily there is made a great distance betwixt two that goe in a con­trary iourney: at the same time he ascendeth, I descend: and thou knowest, how much the one of these is the more speedily done. I lied: for now our age descendeth not, but falleth. Notwithstanding dost thou seeke how this dayes strife succeeded vnto vs? As seldome it falleth forth to runners: neither of vs both did ouercome. From this wearinesse, rather then exercise, I descended into cold water. This is called by me water scarce warme. I that so great wa­ [...]her in cold water, who in the Calends of Ianuarie leaped into a pond, who in [Page 345] the new yeare, as I began to reade, to write, to speake somewhat, so began I to leape downe into cleare water, first translating my tent to Tyber, then to this bathing tub, which because I am most strong, and all things are done in good earnest, the Sunne moderateth for mee. Not much time after doe I tarrie at the Bath. Then I eate drie bread, and a dinner without a board: after which I am not to wash mine hands. I sleepe very little. Thou hast knowne my cu­stome: and I vse a most short sleepe, and as it were by seuerall naps. It is suffici­ent that I haue ceased to watch. Sometimes I know, sometimes I suspect that I haue slept. Behold the crie of the Circens [...]ans maketh a noise in mine eares: mine eares are stricken with some sudden and vniuersall voice. Neither do they put forth, neither indeed doe they interrupt my thought: most patiently I beare their clamorous noyses, many voices and confused in one, are to mee in stead of a waue, or of a winde beating vpon a wood, & of other things sounding without sense. O what therefore is it? I will tell thee, whereon now I haue set my minde. A thought abideth with me still since yesterday, namely, what most wise men haue meant, who haue made most light and perplexed proofes for greatest things, which although they be true, are notwithstanding like to a lie. Zeno would deter vs from drunkennes, an exceeding great man, the founder of this most valiāt & most holy sect. Heare now how he gathereth, that a good man will not be drunke. None committeth secret speech to a drunken man: but he committeth it to a good man; therfore a good man will not be drunk. Marke how he may be derided with the like opposite interrogatiō. It sufficeth of many to set downe one. No man committeth secret speech to one that is a sleepe, but he committeth it to a good man; therefore a good man doth not sleepe. By what one way he can, Posidonius pleadeth the cause of our Zeno: but so can it not be pleaded indeed, as I suppose. For he saith that a drunken man is so said to be two manner of wayes: the one, when one is loaden with wine, and not master of himselfe; the other, if he be accustomed to be made drunke, and be subiect vnto this vice. He is spoken of by Zeno, who is accustomed to be made drunke, not hee that may bee drunke. But no man will commit secrets to him, which through wine he may publish abroad; which is false. For that first interrogati­on comprehendeth him that is drunke, not him who will so be. For thou wilt grant that there is great difference betwixt him that is drunke, and a drunkard. He that is drunke, may so then be at the first time, and not haue this vice: and he that is giuen to drinke, is oftentimes without drunkennesse. Therefore I vnderstand that, which is wont to be signified in this word: especially sith it is put by a man professing diligence, and examining words. Adde now, that if Zeno vnderstood, and would haue vs to vnderstand this, by doubtfulnesse of the word, he hath sought place for deceit: which thing is not to be done, when veritie is sought for. But certes although he hath thought thus: yet that which followeth is false; namely, that to him who is accustomed to be made drunke, a secret speech is not to be committed. For thinke to how many souldiers not alwayes sober, both the Emperour, and Tribune, and Centurion hath com­mitted silent things. Concerning that slaughter of C. Caesar, of him do I speak, who hauing ouercome Pompeius, possessed the Common-wealth: it was as well committed to Tillius Cimber, as to C. Cassius. Cassius dranke water all his life long. Tillius Cimber was both too much giuen to wine, and was lauish of his tongue: he ie [...]ted at this thing himselfe. Can I beare any one, saith hee, who cannot beare wine? Let euery one now name those vnto himselfe, to whom he knoweth that wine is badly, and that speech is well committed. Notwith­standing [Page 346] I will relate one example that commeth to my minde; le [...]t it be forgot. For life is to bee instructed by famous examples. Let vs not alwayes flie to those that be old. Lucius Piso the warden of the Citie, after that he was once made drunke, spent the greater part of the night in the feast: and did for the most part sleepe almost vntill noone; this was his morning time. Notwithstan­ding, most diligently he administred his office, wherein the safetie of the Citie was contained. To him both Augustus gaue secret commands, when he gaue him the gouernment of Thracia, which he did subdue; and Tiberius going in­to Campania, when he left many things in the Citie both suspected and hate­full, I thinke, because the drunkennesse of Piso had well fallen foorth vnto him, afterwards made Cossus gouernour of the Citie, a graue and moderate man, but drowned and floating in wine, so that sometimes being oppressed with a sound sleepe, he was carried out of the Senate, into which he had come from a feast. To him notwithstanding Tiberius wrote many things with his owne hand, which he iudged ought not to be committed to his owne seruants. No priuate nor publike secret escaped from Cossus. Therefore let vs remooue from amongst vs these declamations: The minde hath not power ouer it selfe, being bound about with drunkennesse. As barrels themselues are broken with new wine: and as all that is in the bottome, the force of heate casteth vp into the vpper part: so wine foming forth, whatsoeuer lieth hid in the bottome is brought [...]orth and commeth abroad. As they who are loaded with wine, keepe not me [...]t through abundance of wine, so indeed do they keepe no secret thing; that which is their owne and other mens, alike do they spread abroad. But al­though this is wont to fall forth, so also is that, that with these whom we know somewhat freely to drinke, we deliberate of necessarie things. Therefore this is false, which is put in the place of patronage, that a secret is not to be commit­ted to him, who is accustomed to be made drunke. How much better were it openly to accuse drunkennesse, and to lay open the vices thereof? which euen a tollerable man hath auoided, much more a perfect and a wise man: to whom it is sufficient to quench thirst: who also if at any time mirth doth arise, and is continued somewhat long vpon some other cause, yet notwithstanding resisteth without being drunke. For we will see concerning that, whether the minde of a wise man may be troubled with too much wine, and may doe that which is ac­customable to drunken men. In the meane space, if thou wilt conclude this, that a good man ought not to be drunke, why dealest thou with syllogismes? Say how dishonest a thing it is, to powre in more then one can containe, and not to know the measure of ones stomake: how many things drunken men doe, which sober men be ashamed of: that drunkennesse is nothing else, then a vo­luntarie madnesse. Prolong that drunken habit into more dayes, doubtest thou but it will be madnesse? Now also it is not lesser, but shorter. Relate the exam­ple of Alexander, the Macedonian, who in the middest of a banquet stabbed Clytus, one most deare and most faithfull vnto him, and vnderstanding that hei­nous deed, he would haue died; certainly hee deserued to die. Drunkennesse augmenteth and discouereth euery vice; it remoueth modestie, which hinde­reth from bad enterprises. For moe abstaine from forbidden things, through shame to offend, then through good will. When too much wine possesseth the minde, what euill soeuer did lie hid, commeth forth. Drunkennesse causeth not vices, but betrayeth them; then the leacherous person tarrieth not indeed for a chamber, but without delay permitteth to his desires, so much as they shall require: then the shamelesse man professeth and publisheth his disease: [Page 347] then the wanton containeth not his tongue nor hand. Pride encreaseth to the haughty, rage to the cruell, malice to the enuious; euery vice is discouered, and commeth forth. Adde, that not knowing of himselfe, doubtful and scarce plaine wordes, wandring eyes, staggering gate, turning about in the head, the house it sel [...]e seeming to turne about: the torment of the stomacke, when the wine wax­eth warme, and stretcheth out the bowels. Then notwithstanding, howsoeuer it is tollerable, whilst it is yet in his owne power. What when it is corrupted with sleepe, and that which was drunkennesse is made cruditie? Thinke what slaughters publique drunkennesse hath committed. This hath deliuered most fierce and warlike Nations to their enemies: this hath laide open walls defen­ded against the resolute warre of many yeares: this hath enforced the most re­solued, and the refusers of subiection, to the command of other men: this hath conquered those who haue beene vnconquered in warre. So many iournies, so manie battels, so many Winters, through which Alexander had passed, the difficultie of times and places beeing ouercome, so manie floods vnex­pectedly falling forth, so many Seas dismissed him safe; but the distem­per of drinking, and that Herculean and fatall cuppe buried him. What glorie is it to containe much? When the victorie shall bee atchieued by thee, when men lying scattered asleep, and casting shall refuse thy drunken car­rowses, when thou alone shalt remaine of the whole banquet, when thou shalt ouercome all men in magnificall valour, and no man shall be so capable of wine as thy selfe, yet art thou ouercome by a Tunne: what other thing saue drun­kennesse, and the loue of Cleopatra no lesse then wine destroyed M. Antonius, a great man and of a noble wit, and transferred him into externall fashions, and into vices which were not Roman-like? This thing made him an enemie to the Common-wealth, this made him vnequall to his enemies, this made him cruell, when the heads of the Princes of the Citie were set before him as he did suppe, when amongst most exquisite feasts & kingly ryot, he looked vpon to know the heads and hands of the proscribed, when being loaded with wine, he notwith­standing thirsted for bloud. It was intollerable which hee did when he was drunke, although he did thus being sober: how much more intollerable was it, that he did these things in drunkennesse it selfe? For the more part crueltie followeth drunkennesse; for the health of the minde is violated and exaspera­ted. Euen as long diseases cause tender eyes, yea at the least lighting vpon of a beame of the Sunne: so continuall drunkennesse enrageth the minde. For when oftentimes they are not their owne men, vices bred with wine, and obdu­rated with custome of madnesse, be also of force without it. Tell therfore why a wise-man ought not to be made drunke. Shew the deformitie and the impor­tunitie of the thing with deedes, not with wordes, which will be most easie to do. Proue these pleasures, as they are called, when they haue passed a meane to be punishments. For if thou shalt argue vpon that, that a wise-man can be drunk with much wine, and retaine a right tenor, although he be ouerturned: thou mayst as well conclude, that he may drinke poison and not die, that he may take juice of blacke Poppie and not sleepe, that he may take Ellebore, and not cast vpward or scoure downeward, whatsoeuer sticketh in the bowels. But if his feete be assaulted, if his tongue be not his owne, why thinkest thou him to be partly sober, and partly drunke?

EPIST. LXXXIIII.

Writing and reading are to be changed. Things read are to be turned into one nourish­ing substance, and are to be made ours. Lastly, there is an exhortation to wisedome. Good and profitable admonitions.

I Iudge these iourneyes which shake off slouthfulnesse from me, to profite my studies and health. Thou seest why they helpe mine health: sith the loue of learning maketh me slowe and neg­ligent of my bodie, I am exercised by others helpe. I will shewe thee why they profite my studies. I haue not departed from rea­ding. But it is necessarie, as I suppose, first, that I may not be content with my selfe alone; then, that when I shall know things sought forth by other men, and then that I may iudge of things alreadie found out, and that I may thinke of those that be to be found out. Reading nourisheth the wit; and it being wea­ried with studie, notwithstanding not without studie refresheth it. Neyther onely ought we to write, or onely to reade; the one of the things will make sad, and will consume the strength; I speake of writing: the other will dissolue and dissipate it. Interchangeablie this is to be exchanged with that, and the one is to be moderated with the other; so that whatsoeuer is gathered together by reading, the pen may reduce into a bodie. We ought, as they say, to imi­tate Bees, which wander vp and downe, and picke fit flowers to make honie: then whatsoeuer they haue brought they dispose and place through their combes, and as our Virgil saith;

Moist honey to make thicke they much doe striue,
Spreading the same with sweet dew through their Hiue.

Concerning them it is not apparent enough, whether they draw a moist sub­stance from the flowers, which is presently honie; or whether that they change those things which they haue gathered with a certaine mixture and propriety of their breath, into this taste. For it pleaseth some, that not the knowledge of making honie, but of gathering it is vnto them. They say that amongst the In­dians honie is found vpon the leaues of Reedes, which eyther the dew of that skie or the pleasant and more fat moisture of the very Reede may beget. Vp­pon our hearbes also the same force, but lesse manifest and notable is found, which a creature born for this end may follow after, and gather together. Som think that those things which they haue picked from the tender of that which is greene & flourishing, are not without a certain leauen, as I may so cal it, wher­by diuers things doe knit together into one. But that I be not lead a way to any other thing, then to that which is in hand, we also ought to imitate Bees, and to separate what things soeuer we haue heaped together from diuers reading; for distinct things are the better kept. Then vsing the abilitie and care of our wit, to mingle diuers liquors into one taste: that although it shall appeare whence it is taken, yet that it may appeare to be some other thing [...] then that whence it was taken: which thing we see nature doth in our bodie, without any helpe of vs. Nourishment which we haue taken, so long as it abideth in quality, and swim­meth solid in the stomacke is a burthen; but when it is changed from that which it was, then at length it passeth into strength and into bloud. The same [Page 349] let vs doe in these things wherewith wits a [...]e nourished: that whatsoeuer wee haue gotten, we suffer not to be whole, nor to be other mens. Let vs concoct them, otherwise they will go into the memory, not into the wit. Let vs faithful­ly agree vnto them, and make them ours, that one certaine may be made of ma­ny things: as one number is made of seuerall ones, when one computation com­prehendeth lesser and disagreeing summes. This let our minde do: all things whereby it is holpen, let it hide: only let it shew that which it hath done. Al­though in thee the likenesse of some one shall appeare, whom admiration hath more deeply fastned in thee: I would that thou shouldest be like to him, not as an Image, but as a sonne. An Image is a thing that is dead. What therefore? is it not vnderstood whose speech thou do [...]st imitate? whose reasoning? whose sentences? I thinke at length it can not be vnderstood indeede, if they bee of a great man, for not in all things, which he hath drawne as examples from euery one, hath hee so imprinted his shape, that they may agree into that one thing alone. Seest thou not of the voyces of how many, a Quire doth consist? Not­withstanding one sound is made of them all. Some one voyce is acute, some base, som in a mean. Womens voices are ioined with mens, recorders and flutes are added vnto them: there the voyces of euery one in seuerall li [...] [...]id, of all ap­peare. I speake of the Quire which the olde louers of musicke did know of. In our feasts there are more Singers, then once were of spectators vpon the Thea­ters. When the rowe of those that sing hath filled all wayes, and the Stage is compassed with Trumpeters, and all kinde of Pipes and Organs sound from a gallerie aboue, a consonance is made of discords. Such would I haue our minde to be, that there be many arts therein, many precepts, examples of many ages, but conspiring in one. How saist thou, may this be done? By continuall taking of heed; if we shall doe nothing but by the perswasion of reason: this if thou wilt heare, it will say vnto thee; Leaue these things euen alreadie now, where­vnto men doe runne; leaue riches eyther the danger or burden of those that possesse them; leaue the pleasures of the bodie and of the minde, they molli­fie and make weake; leaue suing for offices, it is a swelling, vaine, and windie thing, it hath no bound: as well carefull is it, not to see any body before it selfe, as not not to see it selfe after another man: it laboureth with enuie, and indeede with two sorts thereof. But thou seest how wretched he is, who is enuied at, if he himselfe enuie also. Beholdest thou those houses of mightie men, those tu­multuous doores with the brawling of them that doe salute? Much reproach is there that thou maiest enter in, more when thou hast entred in. Passe by these staires of the rich, and entries hanged with heapes of auncient spoyles. Not on­ly in a craggie, but also in a [...]lipperie place shalt thou here stand. Hither rather vnto wisedom direct thy course, and seeke to attaine the most quiet, and there­withall the most ample things. What things soeuer seeme to excell in humane affaires, although they be small, and stand aboue in comparison of the basest things, are notwithstanding by difficult and [...]ard wayes gone vnto. Vnto the height of dignitie there is a broken way. But if thou wilt climbe vnto this top, whereunto fortune submitteth it selfe, thou shalt beholde indeed all things vn­der thee, which are accounted exceeding high; but notwithstanding thou shalt come vnto highest things by that which is plaine.

EPIST. LXXXV.

He disalloweth Sophismes, and driueth them from serious studies. He giueth certaine examples, but leadeth to profitable things; against the Aristotelians, that a wise man ought to want affections. Then, that blessed life sufficeth of it selfe; it is one and e­quall, whether it be long or short. Also it is not lessened by outward things, although euils an [...] losses fall forth, yet a wise man vseth all well. A good and wise Epistle.

I Had spared thee, and had now passed by whatsoeuer had remai­ned as yet, contented to giue, as it were, a taste vnto thee, of those things which are spoken by our men, that it may be proued, that vertue alone is sufficiently effectuall to fulfill a blessed life. Thou commandest me to comprehend all the questions, that be either of our owne, or de [...]ised for the teaching of vs: which thing, if I will doe, it shall not be a letter, but a booke. That thing so often doe I protest, that in this kind of argument there is no delight vnto me. It shameth me (being armed with a bodkin) to descend into a warre vndertaken by gods and men. He that is wise, is also a temperate man. He that is temperate is a constant man. He that is con­stant, is a true tempered man. He that is without griefe, is a bles [...]ed man. There­fore he that is prudent is a blessed man, and prudence is sufficient for a blessed life. To this collection, some of the Aristotelians answere after this sort, that thus they may interpret a man of true temper, and constant, and without griefe; that a man of true temper may be said to be, who rarely and smally is disturbed, not he who neuer is. Also without sadnesse doe they say him to be, who is not subiect to sadnes, nor is too frequent, nor too much in this fault. For that were to deny the nature of man, that the minde of some man should bee free from griefe: a wise man is not ouercome with sorrow, but is touched there­with: so other things, a [...]ter this sort, correspond to their owne sect. They doe not with these things take away the affections, but moderate them. But how little doe we gi [...]e to a wise man, if hee bee stronger then the weakest, and merrier then the saddest, and more moderate, then the most vnbridled, and greater then the basest be? What if Ladas admire his owne swiftnesse, looking backe vnto those that be lame and weake?

On tops of grasse, not pressing them, she ran,
Nor tops of standing corne, her course hurt can;
In midst of sea on waters highest tip,
Her running feet in water doe not dip.

This is that swiftnesse esteemed of by it selfe, not which is praised in compari­son of those that be most slow. What if thou call him, who is slightly sicke of an a [...]ue, a sound man? The smalenesse of a disease is not good health. Thus, saith he, a wise man is said to be of true temper, as sweet kernel-lesse Pomgra­nats, are called so, not in which there is no hardnesse of the kernels, but in which lesse hardnesse is. It is false: for I doe not vnderstand a lessening, but a wanting of euils in a good man: there ought to bee none, not those that are small. For if there be any, they will encrease, and sometimes will hinder vs. As a greater and a perfect web in the eye maketh blinde, so a small one troubleth the eye. If thou giuest any affections to a wise man, reason shall be vnable to [Page 351] master them, and shall be carried away, as it were, with a streame: especially when thou leauest not one, but a whole troupe of affections wherewithall it may striue. A troupe, although it bee of those that be meane, can doe more, then the violence of one that is great. He hath couetousnesse, but it is meane; he hath ambition, but it is not eager; he hath anger, but it is to be appeased; he hath inconstancie, but not very wandering; and subiect to motion: he hath lust, but not madnesse. Better is it with him who hath one whole vice, then with him who hath lighter vices indeed, but yet hath all vice. Then there is no dif­ference, how maine the affection be, and how great soeuer it is; it knoweth not to obey, it receiueth not counsell. As no liuing creature obeyeth reason, not the wilde, not the tame and gentle [...] for the nature of them is deafe to him that doth perswade: so affections doe not follow, they doe not heare, how small soeuer they be. Tygers and Lions neuer put off feircenesse, sometimes they submit it; and when thou shalt least expect, their mitigated frowardnesse is ex­asperated. Vices neuer in good earnest doe waxe tame. But if reason profit­eth, the affections will not begin: if they shall begin against reasons will, they will perseuer against the will of it. For it is more easie to forbid the beginnings of them, then to rule their force. Certainly this mediocritie is false, and with­out gaine, and is to be esteemed of in the same place, as if one should say, wee might be indifferently madde, or indiff [...]rently sicke. Vertue alone hath it; the euils of the minde doe not receiue moderation, more easily shalt thou take them away, then gouerne them. Is there any doubt, but that the inueterate and hard vices of humane minde, which we call diseases, be without moderati­on; as couetousnesse, as crueltie, as vn [...]ulinesse, as impietie? Therefore also the affections are without moderation [...] for wee passe from these vnto those. Furthermore, if thou giue any power to sadnesse, to feare, to couetousnesse, and to other bad motions, they will not be ruled by vs. Why? because those things be out of our power, whereby they be stirred vp. Therefore they en­crease, as they haue greater or lesser causes, whereby they be prouoked. Grea­ter shall the feare be, if there be more wherewithall it may be affrighted, or if one shall look nearer thereunto; couetousnesse shall be more cruell, when hope of a larger estate shall call it forth. If it be not in our power, whe [...]her affections may be or not, that indeed is not, how great they may be: if thou hast permit­ted them to begin, with their causes they will encrease, and they shall bee as great, as they are made by thee. Adde now, that these, although they be but little things, grow to be greater. Neuer doe hurtfull things keepe a meane. Be­ginnings of diseases creepe forward, although they bee light; and sometimes the least accession drowneth a bodie that is alreadie sicke. But who is so mad, as to beleeue that, that the beginnings of those things which are placed with­out our will, the limits of them are according to our will? How am I sufficient­ly able to put an end vnto that, which I am scarce able to hinder? Sith it is more easie to exclude, then to suppresse things admitted in. Some haue distinguished so that they said: A temperate and a prudent man in the frame and habite of the minde is calme, but not in the euent thereof: for in regard of the habite of the minde he is not troubled, neither feareth, nor is sad: but many causes doe outwardly fall forth, which may bring perturbation vnto him. This is it that they would say, that he is not indeed a cholericke man, yet that hee is angry at sometime. And that hee is not a fearefull man, yet that hee feareth at sometime: that is to say, hee wanteth the vice, but not the affection of feare. But if we allow of this feare, with frequent vse it becommeth a vice: and anger [Page 352] being admitted into the minde, discouereth that habit of the minde that wan­ted anger. Furthermore, if it contemneth not those causes which outwardly come, and feareth any thing, when that valiantly we are to go against weapons, and fires, for our Countrie, Lawes and libertie, it will lingringly goe forth, and with a minde returning backe. But this diuersitie of minde falleth not vpon a wise man. That furthermore doe I iudge to be obserued, lest wee confound two things which are seuerally to be proued. For by it selfe it is gathered, that there is one only good, namely, that which is honest: that by it selfe againe ver­tue is su [...]ficient for a happie life. If there be but one good, namely, that which is honest; all then grant that vertue is sufficient to liue well: contrarily it shall not be reiected, if vertue alone doe make a blessed man, that there is one good, that is, that which is honest. Xenocrates and Speusippus doe suppose, that a bles­sed man can be made by vertue alone: yet that is not the one only good, which is honest. Epicurus also iudgeth, that when one hath vertue, that he is blessed, yet that vertue it selfe is not sufficient to a blessed life: because pleasure may make a man blessed, which is from vertue, and is not vertue it selfe. A foolish distinction. For the same man denieth, that vertue is at any time without plea­sure: thus if it alwaies be ioyned vnto it, and be inseparable, it also is sufficient alone. But that is absurd, because it is said, that one shall become happie euen by vertue alone: but shall not become perfectly happie thereby: which thing how it may be done, I doe not finde. For a blessed life hath in it a perfect good, such as cannot be ouercome: which thing if it be thus, it is perfectly a blessed life. If th [...] life of the gods hath in it no more nor better thing; and a blessed life is a diuine life; it hath nothing wher [...]unto it can more lift vp it selfe. Fur­thermore, if a blessed life needeth not any thing [...] euery blessed life is perfect, and a blessed, and a most blessed life is the same. What doubtest thou, but that a blessed life is the chiefest good? Therefore if it bee the chiefest good, it is chiefely a blessed life. As the chiefest receiueth not augmentation (for what is aboue that which shall be the chiefe?) so is not a blessed life indeed, which is not without the chiefest good. But if thou shalt bring in one who is more blessed, then shalt thou make a great many more innumerable differences of the chiefest good: when I vnderstand the chiefest good, I speake of that which hath not a degree aboue it selfe. If any be lesse blessed then another: it follow­eth, that he will more desire the life of that other more blessed, rather then his owne life: but the bl [...]ssed man preferreth nothing before his owne life. Which of these you will it is incredible; either that any thing remaineth to a blessed, which he had rather haue to be, then that which is: or that rather hee should not desire that, which is better then that other thing. For certainly, by how much he is more wise, by so much he will extend himselfe to that thing which is best of all, and euery manner of way he will desire to obtaine it. But how is he blessed, who can still, yea who ought to desire? I will say what it is, whence this error doth come. They know not that blessed life is one. The quality there­of, not the greatnes placeth it in the best estate. Therefore alike is it long and short, broad and narrow, distributed into many places and parts, and gathered into one. He that esteemeth it by number, and measure, and parts, taketh that therefrom, which is the most excellent therein. But what is that which is ex­cellent in a blessed life? That it is full; namely, as the end of eating and drinking is sacietie: he eateth more, that man eateth lesse. What difference? Either of them is full. This man drinketh more, he lesse: what difference? neither of them i [...] a thirst. He hath liued more, he fewer yeares. There is no difference: if many [Page 353] yeares haue made him as wel a blessed man, as a few yeares this man. He whom thou callest lesse blessed, is not blessed: the name cannot be lessened. He that is valiant, is without feare: he that is without feare, is without sadnesse: he that is without sadnesse is blessed. This is our interrogation. Against this they en­deuour to answer thus; that we bring in a false and a controuerted, for a true thing, namely, that he who is valiant is without feare. What therefore? shall not a valiant man, saith he, feare euils hanging ouer him? This were the part of a mad man, and of one out of his wits, and not of a valiant man. He indeed, saith he, feareth most moderately, but is not altogether without feare. They who speake th [...]se things are againe returned vnto the same thing, that smaller vices be vnto them in the place of vertues. For he who feareth indeede, but more seldome and lesse, wanteth not badnes, but is vexed with that which is lighter. But yet I think him mad, who feareth not euils hanging ouer him. True it is which he saith, if they be euils; but if he know that they be not [...]uils, & iudgeth dishonesty alone to be that which is ill, he ought securely to looke vpon dan­gers, & to contemne those things that are feared by other men: or if it be the part of a foole or of a mad man, not to contemne euil things; by how much any one is the more wise, by so much shall he feare the more. As it seemeth to you, saith he, a valiant man shal thrust himself into dangers. No; he shal not fear, but shall auoyde them. Warinesse, not feare becommeth him. What therefore? Doest thou say, that he shall not feare death, bands, fire, and other weapons of fortune? No; for he knoweth that those things be not ill, but seeme so to be: he thinketh that all these things be the [...]eares of humane life. Describe captiui­tie, beating, chaines, pouertie, tearing asunder of the members, eyther by sicke­nesse or by iniurie: and whatsoeuer thou shalt bring hereunto, number them amongst imaginarie feares. These things are to be [...]eared by those that be fear­ [...]ull. Supposest thou that to be bad, whereunto some times of our owne accord we must come. Seekest what is euill? To giue place to [...]hese things which are called euill, and to yeeld our owne libertie vnto them, for which we are to en­dure all things. Libertie perisheth, except we contemne those things, which lay a yoake vpon vs. They would not doubt what would become a valiant man, if they knew what valor were. For it is not vnaduised rashnesse, nor loue of dangers, nor a desire of fearfull things. It is a knowledge of distinguishing, what is euill, and what is not [...] fortitude is most diligent in defending of it selfe, and the same is most patient of those things, wherein is a false shew of bad things. What therefore if a sword be thrust into the throat of a valiant man, if first one part and then another be hewed forth, if he see his owne bowels in his owne armes, if after a space, to the end that he may feele torments the more, he be set vpon againe, and fresh bloud trickleth downe by his dried bowels? wilt thou not say, that this man doth not feare, that he doth not feele griefe? Certainely he feeleth paine, for no vertue putteth off the sense of a man: but he feareth not: being vnconquered, from on high he looketh vpon his dolours. Thou de­maundest, what minde then there is vnto him? The same that is vnto them who exhort their sicke friend. That which is euill hurteth, that which hurteth maketh worse. Dolour and pouertie make not worse, therefore they are not bad. False is it, saith he, which is propounded; for if any thing hurt, it doth not also make worse. A tempest and storme hurt a Pilot, but notwithstanding they make him not worse. Certaine Stoicks do thus answer against this, That a Pilot is made worse by a tempest and by a storme, because that thing which he had purposed he cannot effect, nor keepe on his course. Worse is he made, [Page 354] not in his skill, but in his work. To whom the Arist [...]telian: therefore, saith he, pouertie and dolour, and whatsoeuer such like thing there shall be, shal not take vertue from him, but shall hinder his working thereof. This were rightly said, except the condition of a Pilot, and of a wise-man were vnlike. For the purpose of him is in leading his life, not without faile to effect that which he assayeth to doe, but to doe all things aright. It is the purpose of the Pilot, without faile to bring a ship into an hauen. They be seruile arts, they ought to performe that which they promise. Wisedome is a mistresse and goue [...]nesse. The arts doe serue to, wis [...]dome commandeth ouer life. I iudge that we must answere after another sort, namely, that neyther the skill of the gouernour is made worse by any tempest, nor yet the very administration of art. The gouernour hath not promised prosperous successe vnto thee, but his profitable endeuour, and skill to gouerne the ship. This appeareth the more, by how much the more some force of fortune hath hindred him. He that hath beene able to say this, O Nep­tune, this ship was neuer but right, hath satisfied skill. A tempest hindereth not the worke of a Pilot, but the successe. What therefore sayest thou? Doth not that thing hurt a Pilot, which hindereth him from entring the Port? which causeth his endeuours to be vaine? which eyther beareth him backe, or detai­neth and disarmeth him? It hurteth him not as Pilot, but as one that doth saile. Otherwise it doth not so much hinder, as shew the Pilots skill. For euery one can, as they say, be a pilot in the calme. These things hinder the ship; not a pi­lot, as he is a pilot. Two persons a pilot hath; the one common with all who haue gone aboard the same ship, wherein he himselfe also is a passenger; the o­ther proper, as he is a gouernour. The tempest hurteth him as he is a passen­ger, not as a Pilot. Furthermore the art of a Pilot is anothers good, it ap­pertaineth to those whom he carrieth: as the art of a Physitian appertaineth to those whom he doth cure. Wisedome is a common good, and is proper to ownes selfe, for those with whom he doth liue. Therefore peraduenture a Pi­lot is hurt, whose promised seruice to others is let by a tempest. A wise-man is not hurt by pouertie, nor by dolour, nor by other tempests of life. For not all workes of him be hindered, but only those that pertaine to other men: alwayes is he himselfe indeed; then greatest of all, when fortune hath opposed her selfe vnto him, then manageth he the businesse of wisdome it selfe: which wisdome we haue said to be both anothers and his owne good. Furthermore not then indeed is he hindred to profite other men, when some necessities do presse him. Through pouertie he is hindred to teach, how a Common-wealth may be ma­naged: but he teacheth that thing, how pouertie is to be managed. His worke is extended all his life long. Thus no fortune, no thing excludeth the acts of a wise-man. For he doth not that verie thing, whereby he is fobidden to doe o­ther things. He is fit for both chances: a gouernour of the bad, an ouercom­m [...]r of the good. So I say hath he exercised himselfe, that he sheweth vertue as well in prosperous as in aduerse affaires, neyther looketh he vpon the matter thereof, but vpon it selfe. Therefore neyther pouertie, nor dolour, nor any o­ther thing, which turneth backe the vnskilfull, and driueth them headlong, hin­dereth them. Hast thou rather he should be pressed? He maketh vse of it. Not only of Iuorie did Phidias know how to make Images: he made them of brasse. If marble were vnto him, if thou hadst offered baser matter, he would haue made such an one thereof, as could be mad [...] of that which was the best. So a wise-man will shew vertue, if he may, in wealth; if not, in pouertie: if he shall be able, in his countrie; if not, in banishment [...] if he can, being a commaunder; [Page 355] if not, being a souldier: if he can, being sound; if not, being weake: what for­tune soeuer he shall entertaine, he will performe some memorable thing there­by. Certain tamers there be of wilde beasts, who teach the fiercest creatures, and which terrifie a man when they meete him, to suffer the yoake: and not con­tented to haue shaken fiercenesse off, do tame them, euen to keepe them com­panie. The master vseth often to thrust out his hand to Lions; they kisse it. The Keeper commandeth his Tyger; the AEthiopian Player commandeth his Elephant to fall vpon their knees, and to walke vpon a rope: so a wise-man is skilfull to subdue euill things. Dolour, pouertie, ignominie, prison, banishment, when they come vnto him, are made tame.

EPIST. LXXXVI.

Of the Countri-house of AFRICANVS, of his building and Bath, which was neyther garnished nor neat. Against the ryot of his time. Last of all, of setting Oliues, through occasion of a Countrey-house.

LYing in the verie towne of Scipio Africanus, I write these things vnto thee, hauing adored the spirit of him, and the Altar, which I suppose to be the sepulcher of so great a man: the soule of him indeed I perswade my selfe that it hath returned into heauen, whence it was: not because he lead great armies (for this also fu­rious Cambyses did, and prosperously vsed furie) but for great moderation and pietie, more admirable in him when he left his countrie, then when he defen­ded it. Eyther Scipio must be depriued of Rome, or Rome of libertie. Nothing, saith he, will I derogate from lawes, nothing from decrees. Amongst all Citizens let there be an equall right. O my countrie, vse the benefit of me without me. I haue beene the cause, I will also be an argument of libertie vnto thee: I depart if I haue increased more, then is expedient for me. How can I chuse but admire this greatnesse of minde? He departed into voluntarie banishment, and disburthened the Citie. The matter was brought vnto that passe, that eyther libertie should do iniury to Scipio, or Scipio to libertie. Neither was lawfull to be done. Therfore he gaue place to the lawes, and betooke himselfe to Liternum, as willing to impute the banishment of himselfe, as of Hannibal to the Common-wealth. I saw that towne builded of foure square stone, a wall compassing about a wood, towers also set vnder both sides of the towne for a defence: A Cisterne laid vnder the buildings and greene places, which was able to serue euen an armie of men: A little narrow Bath, somewhat darke, as the olde fashion was. It seemed none was warmed for our ancestors, except it were obscure. Great pleasure entred in­to me, beholding the manners of Scipio and of vs. In this corner that horrour of Carthage, to whom Rome is in debt, that it was taken but once, washed his bo­die, wearied with the labours of the countrie: for he exercised himselfe in work, and he himselfe tilled the earth, as the fashion of the ancients was. He stood vn­der this so base a roote, this so meane a floore sustained him. But now who is he that can sustaine to be bathed thus? Poore and base seemeth hee to himselfe, except the walls haue shined with great and precious rounds, except Alexandri­an marbles be distinguished with Numidian roofe-cast; except all about vpon them, a curious varied plastering be layed like a picture that is drawne, except the chamber be couered ouer with glasse, except stone of the Ile Thassus, once a [Page 356] rare gazing s [...]ocke in some Church, haue compassed about our ponds, into which wee let downe our bodies emptied of much sweat; except siluer cockes haue powred out water vnto vs. And as yet I speake of the conduits of the common sort: what when I shall come to the Bathes of freed men? how great pictures, how great pillers holding nothing vp, but placed for ornament sake to the causing of cost, how great waters sliding downe vpon staires with a great noice? To that delicacie are wee come, that wee will not tread but vpon precious stones. In this Bathe of Scipio, there be verie small chinckes, rather then windowes, cut out in the stone-wall, that without hurt of the fense, they should let the light in. But now are they called the bathes of Gnats, if any be not framed so, as to receiue with most large windowes the Sunne all the day long, except they be bathed and coloured both at one time, except from a throne they look vpon both land and sea. Those therfore which had concourse and admiration when they were dedicated, these are reiected in­to the number of the old, when riot hath deuised some new thing, wherewith­all it selfe might ouercome it selfe. But in old time there were few bathes, neither were they adorned with any trimming vp. For why should a thing of a far­thing worth be adorned, and which is found forth for vse, and not for delight? Water was not still powred in, neither alwaies as from a warme fountaine did it runne fresh: neither did they suppose that any matter it was, into what shining vessell they put their washed-off filth. But, O the good gods, how delighted it to enter into bathes somewhat darke, and couered with seeling of the com­mon sort, which thou diddest know, that Cato, when he was ouerseer of the buildings, or else Fabius Maximus, or some of the Cornelij had tempered with their owne hand? For also the most noble ouerseers of houses, performed this dutie also of going into those places which receiued the people, and of ex­acting neatnesse, and a profitable and an healthie temperature, not this which is lately found forth, like vnto a setting on fire, so that it is meet indeed to be wash­ed aliue, as a seruant conuicted of some wickednesse is. No difference now see­meth vnto me, whether the bathe be scalding hot; or be but warme. How great rudenes may some condemne Scipio of, because into his warme bathe with large windowes he did not let in the day, because with a great deale of day-light he was not sod, and did not see, how he might seeth within a bathe? O misera­ble man! he knoweth not how to liue; he was not washed in faire, but often­times in troubled water, & almost muddy, when more vehemently it did raine. Neither much cared he, whether he were washed so, for he came to wash away sweat, and not to wash away oyntment therewith. What speeches beleeuest thou there will be of some? I enuie not Scipio, he liued in banishment indeed, who was washed thus; yea if thou wilt know it, he was not washed euery day. For as they say, who deliuered the maners of the City as they were of old, they washed euery day armes and legges, as which had with worke gathered filth, but all ouer were they washed euery nine daies. In this place some one will say, it is apparant that they were most vncleane. What thinkest thou they smel­led of? Of warre, of labour, of playing the men. After that neate bathes are found forth, more filthy men be. Horatius Flaccus being to describe an infa­mous man, and one notorious for too many delights, what saith he?

Of Pomander doth RVFILLVS smell—

Thou art to grant Rufillus now, that it were all one, as if he smelled of a Goat, [Page 357] and were in Gorgonius his place, whom Horatius hath opposed to Rufillus. It is too little to take oyntment vpon thee, except it be renued twice or thrice in the day, lest it vanish from the bodie. What, that they boast of a smell, as if it were their owne? If these things seeme too sad vnto thee, thou shalt impute it to the village; wherein I learned from AEgialus a most diligent husband (for hee now is the possessor of this ground) that a shrub, although it be old, may be translated into another place. This is necessarie for vs to learne, who bee old men, of whom there is none but planteth an Orchard of Oliues for another man. That which I haue seene, this I speake; namely, that an Orchard of three or foure yeares old, will with a plentifull fall of the leafe yeeld forth fruit; yea also that tree will couer thee: which

Hath beene slow to make a shade before,
To yong nephewes and those that were vnbore:

As our Virgil saith, who beheld, not what might be spoken most truely, but most seemely: neither desired he to teach husbandmen, but to delight those that read. For (to passe by other things) I will adde hereunto that, which is needfull to reprehend at this day.

In Spring be Beans, and dunged Limons set,
And Millet doth a new yeares care beget.

Are these to be set at one time, and whether that the Spring-time be for the sowing of them both; thou mayest iudge from hence. The moneth of Iune, wherein I write these things vnto thee, is neare vnto Iuly. In the same day I saw some gathering Beans, and sowing Millet. I returne to the Orchard of Oliues, which I saw disposed after two sorts. He remoued the trunkes of great trees, the boughes being cut off all about, and being brought to one foot length, with the bodie of the tree, the roots being cut off, that the very head being onely left, whence those did hang. This being besmeared with dung, he put into an hole: afterward he did not heape in the earth, but troad and pressed it downe. There is nothing (as h [...] saith) more effectuall then stamping it hard, namely, for that it excludeth the cold and winde; lesse also it is shaken: and for this it suf­fereth the springing roots to go forth, and to lay hould vpon the ground; which is needfull to be tender as yet, and lightly to stick therunto, light tossing also vp and downe, plucketh it vp againe: but it is scarce a tree, vntill the root do plen­tifully hide it selfe in the ground, for from euery matter which is made naked, as he saith, new roots doe come out. But the stocke of the tree ought not to stand out aboue vpon the earth, no more then three or foure feete; for present­ly it will be garnished from below: neither shall a great part thereof, as in old Oliue-gardens be withered, and scorchingly drie. This also hath beene ano­ther manner of planting them. In the same kinde I haue set in the ground strong boughes, not of an hard barke, such as are [...]ccustomed of the tender trees: but when they come, as it were, from a plant, they haue no rough nor ill-fauoured thing in them. That also haue I now seene, an old Vine to be translated from her shrub: The small strings also of this (if it may be) are to be gathered, there the Vine more largely is to bee spread abroad, that also it may take roote from the body thereof. And I haue seen [...] th [...]m set, not onely in the Moneth of Fe­bruarie; but also in the Moneth of March, which layed hold vpon, and embra­ced [Page 358] Elmes about, which were none of their owne. All these trees which (as I so speake) are in great plentie, are, as he saith, to be holpen with Cisterne water: which if it profit, we haue raine in the power of our selues. I thinke it not meete to teach thee any more, lest euen as our AEgialus hath made me to be an aduer­sarie vnto him, so also I procure thee to be vnto me.

EPIST. LXXXVII.

The frugalitie of SANECA and contempt of externall things: an admonition vnto others, that their wils and deedes might bee such. Then follow small disputations, wherein he approoueth, that casuall things are not amongst those that be good: onely that they may be called Commodities.

I Haue suffered shipwracke, before I haue gone aboard: how it hath come to passe, I set not downe, least amongst the Stoicall para­doxes thou suppose, that this also is to bee put: of which things, I will approoue when thou wilt, yea if thou will not, that none is false, nor so wonderfull, as appeareth to bee at the first sight. In the meane space this iournie hath instructed mee, how many things we neede not to haue, and how easily with iudgement we might contemne them, which if at any time necessitie hath taken away, we feele them not to be taken away. With a very few seruants, whom one Coach could contain, without any stuffe, saue that which was carried vpon our backes, I and my Maximus haue now ledde these two dayes a happy life. A matteresse lyeth vpon the ground, I vpon the matteresse. Of two cloakes, the one is a blanket to lie vpon, the other is made a couerlid. Concerning my dinner, nothing is superfluous therein, it hath beene made readie in no more then in an houres time; neuer without drie figs, neuer without an handfull of hearbs: those if I haue bread, be made like water­gruell: if not, they be for bread: alwayes are they serued in vpon New-yeares day, which I make prosperous and ble [...]sed by thoughts that be good, and by greatnesse of the minde: which neuer is greater then when it hath seperated forraine things: and by fearing of nothing hath got peace vnto it selfe; and by coueting of nothing hath got wealth vnto it selfe. The Coach wherein I ride, is a country one. The Mules testifie that they liue by going onely. The Mu­leter is vnshod, but not for heat: I scarce obtaine of my selfe, that I would haue this Coach to be supposed mine. A peruerse shamefastnesse of that which is right abideth as yet: so often as we doe fall into some brauer company, I blush against my will; which is an argument, that these things which I approue, which I praise, haue not as yet a certaine and vnmoueable seat. He that blush­eth at a base Coach, glorieth at a pretious one. Little haue I profited as yet, I dare not publish frugalitie, yea now doe I care for the opinions of those that passe by. A voyce was to be sent out against the opinions of all mankinde: yee be mad, you erre, you be amased at superfluous things, you esteeme no man ac­cording to his worth. When ye come to patrimonie ye are most diligent recko­ners; thus ye set downe an account of euery o [...]e, to whom ye will commit ey­ther money or benefits. For these also do ye account amongst your expences. He possesseth a great deale, but he oweth much: he hath a faire house, but it is gotten with the money of other men: no man on the sudden can shew a more gallant familie, but he payeth not his debts. If he shall pay his creditors nothing [Page 359] shall remaine vnto him. The same ye ought also to doe in other things, to ex­amine how much proper goods euery man hath. Thou supposest him to be a rich man, because golden houshold-stuffe followeth him vpon the way, b [...]cause he tilleth grounds in all Prouinces, because a great booke of his accounts is roul­led vp, because he possesseth so much ground in the Suburbes, as with enuie he should possesse in the deserts of Apulia: and when thou hast said all, he is a poore man; wherfore? because he is in debt. How much, sayest thou? All that he hath, exc [...]pt peraduenture thou thinkest that there is a differenc [...], whether that one hath borrowed of a man, or of fortune. What to the purpose doe ap­pertaine fatted Mules, all of one colour? What these carued Coaches?

Tapestry, Scarlet, foot clothes horses bore,
And long golde poitrels on their breasts before.
Couered with golde, they champ a yellow bit,
And with their teeth the golde they chaw of it.

These things can make neyther a better Master nor Mule. Marcus Cato the Censor (whose birth truely profited the people of Rome, as much as Scipi [...]es did; for the one made warre with our enemies, the other with manners of the time) was carried on a gelding, and had a cloake-bagge behinde him, wherein he carried his necessarie stu [...]fe. O how doe I wish that some of these delicate horse-men might meet with him, hauing foot-men and Numidians, and a great deale of dust before him. He without doubt would seeme richer and better attended then Cato w [...]s: he amongst that delicate preparation, yea, when hee doubteth exceeding much, whether to bestow himselfe on the sword, or on the knife. O how great a dignitie was it to that age, that an Emperour, who had triumphed, who had beene Censor, and which is aboue all, that Cato should be contented with one horse, nay certainly not with a whole horse; for his fardell hanging downe on both sides, posses [...]ed part of him. Thus wouldest thou not prefer before all the well-fed ambling nags, before great and easie going horses, that one onely horse rubbed by Cato himselfe? I doe not see that any end will be vnto this matter, except that which I shall cause to my selfe. Here there [...]ore will I holde my peace as concerning these things: which without doubt hee foresaw they would be such, as now they be; who first called them impedi­ments. Now further will I relate a very few interrogations of our men pertay­ning to vertue, which we striue to be sufficient for a blessed li [...]e. That which is good, maketh men to be good. For also in musicke-skill, that which is good maketh a Musitian. Casuall goods make not a man good, therefore they be not good. The Aristotelians doe thus answer against this, that they say that to be false, which we doe first of all propound: from that say they which is good, men are not also made good. In musicke there is some thing that is good, as a Pipe, an Harpe-string, or some instrument fitted for the vse of singing: notwithstan­ding not any of these things maketh a Musitian. Here will we answer; you vn­derstand not how we haue placed that which is good to a Musitian: for we doe not speake of that which instructeth, but of that which maketh a Musitian: thou commest to the furniture of skill, and not vnto skill. But if there be anie thing which is good in Musicke skill, that certainely will make a Musitian so to be: yea, furthermore I will make that to be more plaine. That which is good in musicke skill, is said so to be two manner of wayes; the one whereby musi­call effects, the other whereby Art is holpen. The instruments of the Pipe, and [Page 360] Organs, and Harpe-strings do appertaine to the effect, but they doe not apper­taine to the Art it selfe; for he is a workeman without these, but cannot perad­uenture without them vse his skill. This is not alike double in a man: for there is the same good both of a man, and of his life. That is not good which can be­fall euery most base and dishonest man: but riches befall both to the Bawde and Fencer, and therefore they are not good. That which is propounded, say they, is false; for in Grammar skill, and in the Art of Physicke and of gouerning, wee see that goods do befall to euery one of the basest sort. But these Arts professe not a greatnesse of the minde, they rise not aloft, neyther disdaine they such things as come by chance. Vertue extolleth a man, and placeth him aboue those which are deere to mortall wights: neyther doth hee too much desire or feare those things that are called good or bad. Chelidon one of those effeminate ones which Cleopatra had, possessed a great Pattimonie: lately Natalis, both of a wicked and of an vnpure tongue, into the mouth of whom women were pur­ged, both was the heire of much, and left many heires. What therefore? did money make him pure, or did not he himselfe pollute money? which so falleth vpon certaine men, as a piece of money falleth into the vault. Vertue standeth aboue the [...]e things, it is deemed by the worth of it selfe: it iudgeth none of these things to be good, howsoeuer they fall vnto vs. Physicke and gouernement forbid not to themselues and to theirs, the admiration of such things. He that is not a good man, may neuerthelesse be a Physitian, may be a Gouernour, may be a Grammarian forsooth as well as a Cooke. To whom it befalleth not to haue euery thing, him mayest thou not call an vniuersall man. What things e­uery one hath, such a manner of man he is. The Exchequer is worth so much as it hath; yea, into the reuenew thereof commeth that which it hath. Who setteth any price vpon a full bagge, except the summe of the money put there­in hath caused him? The same befalleth to a Master of great patrimonies, they are the reuenewes and the appendices vnto them. Why therefore is a wise-man great? Because he hath a great minde. True therefore it is, that that is not good, which befalleth vnto euerie most base man. Therefore will I neuer say, that the want of sorrow is a good thing, a Grashopper hath that, a Gnat hath that. Nor indeed will I say, that quietnes, and to want trouble is a good thing. What is more idle then a Worme? Seekest thou what maketh a man wise, what maketh a God? It is meet that thou giue some diuine, some heauenly, som magnificent thing. Good falleth not vpon all, neither endureth it euery posses­sor. See thou,

What euery land will beare, or will not haue;
This corne, that grapes, more happily doth craue.
Some-where yong trees do sprout, and grasse amaine:
Of Saffron smels, hill Tmolus is the vaine.
Doth not th' Indian clime send Iu'ry out;
Of Sabaeis soft is not their incense bought?
From naked Chalybes is Iron brought.

These things are assigned to their owne place, that commerce might be neces­sarie vnto men amongst themselues, if interchangeably one should demaund somwhat of another man. That chiefest good it selfe hath also his seat: it sprin­geth not where Iuorie or Iron doth. Seekest thou what is the place of the chiefest good? The minde: this except it be pure and holy, entertaineth not God. God is not made of that which is bad; but riches are caused by couetu­ousnes; [Page 361] therefore they be not good. It is not good, saith he, that good springeth o [...] that which is bad. From sacriledge and from theft doth mony come: ther [...]ore bad indeed is sacriledge and theft: but because, it causeth more bad, then good things. For it giueth gaine, but with feare, with care, with torments both of bo­die and of minde. Whosoeuer speaketh this, it is needfull that he admit, that as sacriledge is bad [...] because it doth many bad things, so also that it is good in some sort, because it doth some good: then which thing what is more monstrous? Although we be altogether perswaded, that sacriledge, theft, and adultery are among [...]t those things that be good. How many blush not at theft; how many boast of adulterie? for small sacriledges are punished, great ones are carried in triumph. Adde now that sacriledge, if altogether it be good in any sort, shall also be honest, & shall be said to be well done: for the action is ours, which thing the thought of no man receiueth, therefore good things cannot come of those that be bad. For if, as yee say, for this one thing sacriledge is bad, because it bringeth much euill: if thou shalt remit punishments to it, if thou shalt promise security, altogether it shall be good. But the greatest punishment of heinous deeds is in themselues. Thou errest, I say, if thou put them off to the Hang-man, and to the Iayle: presently are they punished, when they are done, yea whilest they are in doing them. Therfore good is not borne from that which is bad, no more then a Fig [...]rom an Oliue tree. They answer that they be borne for seed: good things cannot wax worse. As that which is honest, is not borne from a dishonest thing, so from a bad thing is not that which is good: for the same is an honest and a good thing. Some of ours do thus answere against this: let vs suppose that mo­ny is a good thing, whence soeuer it be taken, notwithstāding mony is not ther­fore frō sacriledge, although it be taken from sacriledge. Thus vnderstand this. In the same pitcher there is both gold and a viper. If thou shalt take the gold out o [...] the pitcher, because there also a viper is, not therefore doth the pitcher giue gold vnto me, because it containeth a viper, but it giueth gold, although it haue a viper. After the same sort gaine is made from sacriledge, not as sacriledge is dishonest and wicked, but as it hath gaine; euen as i [...] that pitcher a viper is bad, not the gold which lieth with the viper: so in sacriledge the heinous deed is bad, but not the gaine. Againe, it is argued: the condition of both the things is most vnlike: there can I take away gold without the viper: heere I cannot make gaine without sacriledge: this gaine is not added to, but is mingled with wickednesse. Which whilest we will obtaine, we fall into many euill things: that is not good, whilest wee will obtaine riches, that we fall into many bad things; therefore riches are not good. Your proposition, saith he, hath two significations; the one whilest we will obtaine riches, that we fall into many bad things: but into many bad things doe we fall, whilest also wee would obtaine vertue. Some one whilest hee hath sailed to studie, hath suffered shipwracke; another hath beene taken. Another signification is thus, that whereby we fall into euils, that is not good. The consequent to this proposition will not be: by riches or by pleasures we fall into euils: or if by riches we fall into many euils, riches are not onely not good, but be bad. But yee onely say, that they be not that which is good. Furthermore, saith he, yee grant that riches haue some vse, and amongst commodities doe ye number them. But by the same reason they shal not be a profit indeed: for by them many discommodities come to vs. Some men answere thus vnto these things: ye erre, who impute discommodi­ties vnto riches. They hurt no man, either doth folly hurt euery man, or the wickednesse of other men: so, euen as a sword which killeth no man, yet is the [Page 362] weapon of him that doth kill. Riches therefore doe not hurt thee, if for riches there be hurt vnto thee. Posidonius speaketh better, as I suppose, who saith, that riches are the cause of euill things, not because themselues can doe any thing, but because they prouoke those that will doe. For there is one efficient cause, which of necessitie forthwith must hurt: another is a precedent cause, riches haue in them this precedent cause. They pu [...]fe vp the minde, bring forth pride, procure enuy, and so farre forth estrange the minde, that the fame of money, yea that which will hurt delighteth vs. But good things ought to want all man­ner of blame: they be pure, they doe not corrupt, nor solicite the minde: they lift vp indeed and dilate, but without swelling. Those things that be good, cause confidence, riches cause boldnesse. Those things that are good cause magnanimitie, riches insolencie. But insolencie is nothing else, then a false shew of greatnesse. After this sort sayest thou, riches are not only not that which is good, but also that which is bad. They were a bad thing, if by themselues they should hurt; if (as I haue said) they should haue an efficient cause: now they haue a precedent cause, and indeed not only one prouoking, but drawing minds thereunto. For they shew forth a very likely shape of that which is good, and credible to most men. Vertue also hath a precedent cause vnto enuie, for many through wisdome, many through iustice are enuied at: but neither from it selfe hath it this cause, nor any like vnto it. For contrarily that more likely shape is by ver [...]ue set before the mindes of men, which may call them vnto loue and ad­miration thereof. Posidonius saith, that we must reason thus: What things giue neither greatnesse, nor confidence, nor securitie to the minde, are not good: but riches, and good health, and things like vnto these, cause none of these things; therefore they are not good: yea also hee enforceth this reason after this sort. Those things be bad which giue neither greatnesse, nor confidence, nor securi­tie to the minde; but contrarily beget insolencie, pride, arrogancie: but by ca­suall things we are enforced into these; therefore they are not good. By this reason, saith he, they shall not be commodities indeed. There is one conditi­on of commodities, another of good things. A commoditie is which hath more vse, then trouble: a good thing ought to be sincere and without hurt on [...]uery part. That is not good which profiteth more, but that which bringeth pro [...]it alone. Wherefore, commoditie pertaineth both to liuing creatures, and to vnperfect men, and to fooles. Therefore discommoditie may be mixed therewithall: but it is called commoditie, being esteemed by the greater part thereof. That which is good, appertaineth to a wise-man alone, it is meet that it should be without hurt. Be of good courage: one, but an Herculean knot re­maineth vnto thee. From bad things good is not made; from many pouerties riches doe not come; therefore riches are not good. Our men acknowledge not this reason. The Aristotelians both faine and loosen it. But Posidonius saith, that this Sophisme is tossed through all the Logicians Schooles, and by An­tipater is refelled thus. Pouertie is not called according to a putting to, but ac­cording to a taking from, or (as the Ancients haue said by priuation: the Gre­cians say, [...]: not because it hath, is it called, but because it hath not. Th [...]refore by many voide things nothing can bee filled: many things, and not much want, are the cause of riches. Thou vnderstandest pouertie, otherwise then thou oughtest to doe. Pouertie is, not which possesseth a few, but which possesseth not many things. Therefore it is called not from that which it hath, but from that which is wanting vnto. More easily would I expresse that which I meane, if there were a Latine word, whereby [...] is signified. Antipater [Page 363] assigneth this to pouertie. I see not what other thing pouertie may bee, then possession of a small thing. Concerning this we will see, if there shall be great leasure at any time, what the substance of riches, what the substance of pouerty may be: but then also will we consider, whether it were better to asswage po­uertie, to take loftie lookes from riches, then to striue concerning words, as though alreadie we had iudged of the things. Let vs suppose that we are called to a Parliament. A law is propounded for the abolishing of riches: by these reasons shall we perswade or disswade? By these shall wee cause the people of Rome to require, and to praise pouertie, the foundation and cause of their Em­pire? and to feare their wealth? to thinke how they haue found these amongst the conquered? that hence ambition, and bribery, and tumults haue broken in­to a most holy and a most temperate Citie? That too luxuriously the spoyles of the Nations are shewed out? That one people hath taken from all, more easily that from one it might bee taken by all. It is better to perswade these things, and to fight against the affections, not to beguile them. If we can, let vs speake more valiantly; if not, more openly.

EPIST. LXXXVIII.

Liberall studies are not amongst good things, neither doe they of themselues leade to vertue. Seuerally teacheth he this in Grammer, in Musicke, in Geometrie, in A­stronomie. But although they doe not leade, yet they helpe: that is, they fu [...]ther and prepare. Then there is another diuision of Arts, into Vulgar, Sporting, Childish, Li­berall: and amongst these he maketh Philosophie to be onely that, which truely ma­keth free. Yea it alone searcheth foorth concerning Good and Bad things, it alone knoweth them; it therefore alone, or chiefely is to be embraced: and sheweth how vn­profitable and superfluous things Great Readers [...]ollow after, yea some Philosophers too. O good, O golden things be heere! Reade ye both yong and old.

THou desirest to know what I thinke concerning liberall studies. I admire none, I number none amongst those things that be good, whose end is for gaine. Hired workmanships they bee, so farre profitable, as they prepare, and not detaine the wit. For so long must wee abide in them, as the minde can performe no greater thing; they be our rudiments, not our workes. Wherefore, thou seest they be called liberall studies, because they be worthy of a free man. But one studie is liberall indeede, which maketh a free man; this is of wisdome, high, valiant, magnanimous; other be pettie and childish things. Beleeuest thou that there is any good in these things? the professors whereof thou seest to bee the most dishonest, and the most wicked of all men? We ought not to learne, but to haue learned these. Some haue iudged that that question is to be propounded con­cerning liberall studies, whether they could make a man good. They promise it not indeed, neither doe they affect the knowledge of this thing. A Gram­marian is conuersant about the care of speech, and if he will wander any fur­ther, about Histories yea that he may extend his limits the farthest of all, about verses. What of these maketh the way to vertue? Doth the vnfolding of Syllables, and diligence of words, and memorie of fables, and the law and scanning of verses? Which of these taketh away feare, taketh out couetous­nesse, refraineth lust? Let vs passe to Geometrie, and to musicke: nothing [Page 364] shalt thou finde with them, which forbiddeth to feare, forbiddeth to couet: which whosoeuer is ignorant of, in vaine he knoweth other things. Let vs see whether these teach vertue, or not, if they doe not teach, they deliuer it not in­deed: if they doe teach [...] they be Philosophers. Wilt thou know, how that they haue not sit downe to teach vertue? behold how vnlike the studies of all be a­mongst themselues: but likenes had bin if they had taught the same things. Ex­cept peraduenture they perswade thee, that Homer was a Philosopher, with these very things whereby they conclude, they may deny it. For sometimes they make him a Stoick, allowing of vertue alone, & flying back from pleasures, and not retiring backe from that which is honest, for the price of immortalitie it selfe: sometime an Epicurean praising the state of a quiet Citie, and amongst bankets and songs spending his life: sometime an Aristotelian bringing in three kinds of good things: sometime an Academick, teaching all things to be vncer­taine. It appeareth that none of these things be in him, because that all be: for these things disagree amongst themselues. Let vs grant vnto them, that Homer was a Philosopher: certainly he was made wise before he knew any verse: ther­fore let vs learne those things, which haue made Homer to be a wise-man. For me to seeke after this thing indeed, whether Homer or Hesiod were elder by birth, no more appertaineth to the busines, then to know, whether Hecuba was yonger then Helen [...] and why so badly she did beare her age. What, I say, supposest thou that it appertaineth to the purpose, to enquire for the yeares of Patroclus and Achilles? Seekest thou where Vlixes did wander, rather then that thou cause, that we doe not alwayes goe astray? There is not idle time to heare, whether that Vlixes were tossed betwixt Italy and Sicily, or was without the world that is knowne vnto vs: for so long a wandring could not bee in so narrow a place. Tempests of the minde doe daily tosse vs, and wickednesse driueth vs vpon all the euils, which Vlixes [...]ad. Beautie is not wan [...]ing which may solicite the eyes, not an enemie: hence are very cruell monsters and delighting in humane bloud: hence are deceitfull allurements of the eares: hence are shipwrackes and so many varieties of euill things. Teach mee this thing how I may loue my Countrey, how my wife, how my father, how euen su [...]fering shipwracke, I may s [...]ile vnto these so honest things. What enquirest thou, whether Penelope was vnchast [...] whether shee deceiued her age, whether she suspected him to bee Vlixes whom shee saw, before that shee knew it to be true? Teach mee what chastitie is, and how great a good there is in it [...] whether it bee placed in the bodie or in the minde. I passe to a Musitian. Thou teachest mee how acute and graue sounds may agree amongst themselues, how a concord may bee of strings making an vnlike sound. Make rather that my minde may agree with itselfe, and that my counsels may not disagree. Thou shewest vnto mee which be the mourning tunes: shew rather how in aduersitie I may not vtter a mourning voice. The Geometrician teacheth me to measure large pieces of grounds: rather let him teach, how I may measure, how much may be suf­ficient to a man. Arithmeticke teacheth mee to number, and to lend my fin­gers to couetousnesse: rather let it teach [...] that these computations doe nothing appertaine to mine estate. Hee is not an happier man, whose patrimonie wea­rieth the casters vp of his accounts: yea very super [...]luous things may hee pos­sesse, who shall become most vnhappie, if hee bee constrained to reckon vp, how much hee hath. What profiteth it mee to know, how to diuide a small field into parts, if I know not with my brother how to diuide it? What pro­fiteth it subtilly to know how many feete are in an acre of ground, and also [Page 365] to comprehend if any thing hath escaped the pearch; if a mightie neighbour maketh me sad and encroacheth on somewhat of that which is mine? Teach­est thou me, how I may lose nothing of my bounds? but I am willing to learne how I may lose them all with mirth. I am expelled, saith he, from my fathers and from my grandfathers land. What? before thy grandfather who possessed this ground? Tell if thou canst; not what mans, but what peoples it was? Thereon hast thou entred, not as a Lord, but as a Tenant. Whose Tenant art thou? Thine heires, if thou hast good lucke. Lawyers denie, that any thing can be prescribed vpon, which i [...] publike [...] this is publike which thou possessest, and belongeth indeede vnto mankind. O remarkeable Art! thou knowest to mea­sure round things, thou bringest into a quadrate what shape soeuer thou shalt receiue: thou tellest of the distances of the starres: nothing is there but falleth within the measure. If thou be a workeman, measure the minde of man: tell how great, tell how little it is. Thou knowest which is a streight line; what profiteth it to thee, if thou be ignorant what is streight in life? Now I come to him who boasteth in the knowledge of heauenly things.

Whether colde SATVRNE doth it selfe betake,
And what circles CYLLENIVS star doth make.

What shall it profit to know this? that I may be carefull when Saturne and Mars shall be in opposition, or when Mercury shall make his euening fall Sa­turne looking? Rather I will learne this, that wheresoeuer these things be, that they be prosperous, that they cannot be changed. A continuall order and an ineuitable course of destinies moueth these: by set courses they doe retire. They eyther moue or note forth the effects of all things. But whether they be the cause, why euery thing falleth forth, what shall the knowledge of an vnchangeable thing profite thee? or whether they signifie, what skilleth it to prouide for that which thou canst not auoyde? Whether thou do know or not know these things, they shall come to passe.

On the swift Sunne, and starres that follow it,
If that thou looke in order as they sit,
Th' ensuing day will neuer thee deceiue,
Nor cleare nights slights of foresight will bereaue.

Sufficiently and abundantly it is prouided, that I should be safe from am­bushes. Doth not the time that is to morrow deceiue me? for it deceiueth him that is ignorant hereof. I know not what shall be; I know what may come to passe. I despaire nothing of this, I expect the whole. If any thing be remitted, I take it in good part. Time deceiueth, if it spareth mee [...] but neyther so indeed deceiueth it. For as I know that all things may fall forth, so also I know that for certaine they will not fall forth. For certaine I expect prosperous things: I am prepared for those that be bad. In that it is needfull that thou suffer me not go­ing by that which is put in writing. For I am not perswaded to receiue Painters into the number of the liberall arts, no more then makers of statues, or workers in marble [...] or other seruants of riotousnes. Alike do I expell wrastlers from these liberall studies, & all the skill consisting in oyle and clay; or may I receiue those that make sweet oiles, & Cooks and others, that do apply their wits for the plea­sures [Page 366] of vs? For liberall things, I pray thee haue these [...]asting vomitors, whose bodies be fat, but mindes be leane and asleepe? Doe we beleeue that this is a li­berall studie for our youth, which our auncestors haue exercised to be right, to cast Darts, to tosse a Speare, to ride an horse, to handle weapons. Nothing did they teach their children, that was to be learned by those that lie still. But ney­ther these nor those do teach or nourish vertue. For what profiteth it to gouern a horse, and with a bridle to moderate his course, and with most vnbridled affe­ctions to be led away? What profiteth it with wrastling, or with buffets to o­uercome many men, and to be ouercome by anger? What therefore? Do libe­ral studies bestow nothing vpon vs? For other things much, for vertue nothing. For these base professed Arts, which consist of the hand, confer very much to the instruments of life, notwithstanding to vertue they doe not belong. Why therefore doe we instruct our children in liberall studies? Not because they can giue vertue, but because they prepare the minde to the receiuing of it. For as that first literature, as the auncients called it, whereby the first principles are deliuered to children, teacheth not the liberall Arts, but prepareth a place for the first receiuing of them: so liberall Arts leade not the minde to vertue, but make it fit. Posidonius saith that there be [...]oure kindes of Arts; the vulgar and base, sporting, childish, and the liberal Arts. Vulgar be of crafts-men, which con­sist of the hand, and be busied for the furnishing of life; wherein there is no counterfeiting of comlinesse, nor of any honest thing. Sporting Arts be those which tend to the pleasure of the eyes & of the eares. To these you may num­ber the Inginers, who deuise frames rising vp of themselues, and boards secretly encreasing to a great height, and other varieties scarce thought vpon; eyther those things seperating which did cleaue together, or these things which s [...]ood asunder, comming together of their owne accord, or these things which stood vp by little and little, setling downe againe vpon themselues. The eyes of the vnskilfull are stricken with these things, wondering (because they haue not knowne the causes) at all sudden things. Childish they be, and haue some si­militude with the Liberall Arts, namely, these which the Grecians call [...], and our men call Liberall Arts. But they alone are Liberall Arts (and as I may more truely speake) bee free, which haue a care of vertue. Euen as, saith hee, some part of the minde is for naturall, some for morall, some for reasoning Phi­losophy; so also this troope of Liberall Arts, doth in Philosophy challenge a place vnto it selfe. When we come to Naturall questions, we stand to the testi­monie of Geom [...]trie. Therefore is it a part of that which it doth helpe? Ma­ny things helpe vs, yet for that they are no parts of vs: yea if th [...]y were parts, they would not helpe. Meate is an helpe of the bodie, yet is it not a part. The seruice of Geometry performeth somewhat vnto vs: so is it needfull to Philo­sophie, as a Carpenter is vnto it: but neither is he a part of Geometrie, nor that of Philosophie. Furthermore, both haue their ends: for a wise-man both see­k [...]th and knoweth the causes of naturall things, the numbers and measures of which, a Geometrician followeth after and counteth. A wise man knoweth after what manner heauenly things consist, what forc [...], or what nature is vnto them: a Mathematician collecteth the courses, and returnings backe, and the obseruations, by which they descend and be [...]ifted vp, and sometimes make a shew as though they stood still, although that heauenly things cannot stand. A wise-man knoweth what the cause is that expresseth images in a glasse: a Geo­metrician can tell that vnto thee, how much a body ought to bee absent from the image, and what forme is of the glasse that may represent images. A Phi­losopher [Page 367] will proue the Sunne to be great: the Mathematician will shew how great it is, who proceedeth by a certaine exercise and vse; but that he may pro­ceede, certaine principles are to be obtained by him. But that Art standeth not vpon her owne right, whose foundation is by request. Philosophy desireth no­thing from another thing, it raiseth vp the whole worke from the ground. The Mathematicks (as I may so speake) is a superficiall Art, it receiueth principles from others, by the benefit of which it may come to farther things: if by it selfe it could come to that which is true, if it could comprehend the nature of the whole world, I should say that it would bestow much vpon our minds, which encrease by the handling of heauenly things, and draw somewhat from it. The minde is made perfect by one thing, namely, by the vnchangeable knowledge of good and bad things; which agreeth vnto Philosophie onely. But none o­ther Art enquireth about good and bad things: let vs consider all Vertues in particular. Fortitude is a contemner of things to be feared: it despiseth, prouo­keth and breaketh terrible things, and such as send our libertie vnder the yoke: what therefore doe liberall studies strengthen this? Fidelitie is the most holy good thing of a humane breast, by no necessitie is it constrained to deceiue, it is corrupted by no reward. Burne, saith he, beat, kill, I will not betray; but by how much the more paine shall seeke to discouer secret things, by so much will I the more deepely hide them: what are liberall studies able to cause these mindes? Temperance ruleth ouer pleasures; it hateth and driueth away some, it dispenseth with other some, and reduceth them to a sound meane, neyther at any time doth it for themselues come vnto them. It knoweth that the best meane of desired things is, not to take how much thou wilt, but how much thou oughtest. Humanitie forbiddeth to be proude ouer thy fellowes, to bee couetous: in words, in deedes, in affections it sheweth it selfe gentle and easie vnto all; it supposeth none [...]uill to be estranged from him, but especially it lo­ueth that good of it selfe which shall be for anothers good; what doe liberall studies command these maners? No more then simplicitie, modestie, frugalitie, and parsimonie; no more then cl [...]mencie, which spareth the bloud of another as it were his owne, and knoweth that a man must not prodigally vse a man. When ye say (saith he) that without liberall studies vertue cannot be attained vnto: how denie ye that those things confer nothing to vertue? Because ney­ther without meat can vert [...]e be attained vnto, yet notwithstanding meate ap­pertaineth not to vertue. Wood conferreth nothing vpon a ship, although that a ship cannot be made without wood. There is no cause, saith hee, that thou mayest thinke any thing to be made with the help of that thing, without which it could not be made. That also may be spoken indeede, that without liberall studies wisdome may be comne by: for although that vertue be to be learned, notwithstanding it is not learned by these things. But why is it, wherefore I should esteeme that he shall not become wise, who is ignorant of learning, see­ing wisdome is not in learning? It deliuereth deedes, not wordes; and I cannot tell whether the memorie may be more sure, which hath no help out of it selfe. Wisdome is a great and spacious thing; it hath neede of an emptie place: wee must learne diuine and humane things, things past, things to come, things fading an eternall, and time it selfe: concerning which one thing, see how many things may be sought for; first, whether any thing may be by it selfe, then, whether a­nie thing may be before time: if time hath begun with the world, whether also before the world; because somewhat hath beene, time hath also beene. Innu­merable questions be only concerning the mind; whence it may be, and what, [Page 368] when it beginneth to be, how long it may be: whether it may passe from one place to another, and may change her house, and may be cast from one forme of liuing creatures into another: or that it may serue no more then once, and being sent forth may wander in the whole world: whether it be a bodie, or no: what it will doe, when it hath ceased to doe any thing by vs: how shee will vse her libertie when she shall flee out of this denne: whether it may forget former things, and there begin to know it sel [...]e, after that it being led out of the bodie, hath departed on high. Whatsoeuer part of diuine and humane affaires thou shalt comprehend, thou shalt be wearied with huge abundance of things to be sought for, and to be learned. That these so many, and so great things may haue [...]ree place of remaining, super [...]luous things are to be taken out of the mind. Vertue will not put it selfe into these straits: a great matter desireth a large space: let all things be expelled; let the whole br [...]st be emptie for it. But the knowledge of many Arts delighteth. Let vs therefore retaine so much of them, as is necessary. Supposest thou that it is a thing to be reprehended in him, who getteth sup [...]rfluous things for his vse, and layeth abroad the pompe of precious things in his house: and thinkest thou him not to be blame-worthy, who is oc­cupied in the superfluous implements of learning? To bee willing to know more, then may be sufficient, is a kinde of intemperancie. What, that this fol­lowing after Liberall Arts maketh men troublesome, full of words, vnseasona­ble, pleasures of themselues, and therefore not learning necessarie things, be­cause they haue learned superfluous things. Dydimus the Grammarian wrote foure thousand bookes: wretched, if he had read so many superfluous things. In these booke it is sought of the Country of Homer; in these of the true mo­ther of AEnaeas: in these whether Anacreon led a more lustfull or a more drun­ken life: whether Sappho was a whore; and other which were to be vnlearned, if thou shouldest know them. Goe now, and deny life to be long. But also when thou shalt come to our owne men, I will shew that many things with axes are to be cut off. This praising, O learned man! costeth great expence of time, great trouble of the [...]are of other men. Let vs be content with this more rusticke title: O good man. Is it euen so? Shall I tosse ouer the Chronicles of all Nations, and shall I search who first hath written verses: how much time m [...]y be betwixt Orpheus and Homer; when I haue not records of time, shall I reckon it: and shall I reuiew the note of Aris [...]archus, wherewith he noted the verses of other men: and in Syllables shall I spend my time? What shall I so s [...]icke in the Geometricall dust? Hath that wholesome precept, Spare time, so fallen out of minde? Shall I know these things, and be ignorant of my selfe? Appion the Grammarian, who vnder Caius Caesar was caried about in all Greece, and by all Cities was adopted into Homers name, said, that Homer hauing finish­ [...]d the matter both of the Odysses and Iliads, added a beginning to his worke, wherein he comprehended the Troian warre. He brought an argument of this thing, because of purpose he had placed two letters in the first verse, containing the number of his bookes. It is meet that he know these things, who will know many things. Wilt thou not thinke how much time bad health may take from thee, how much publike and priuate businesse, how much businesse by day, how much sleep, measure thine age, it is not capable of so many things. I speake of Liberall s [...]udies: how much superfluitie Philosophers haue, how much reti­ring from vse. They also haue descended to the distinction of Syllables, and to the proprieties of coniunctions and prepositions, and to enuy Grammarians, to enuy Geometricians. Whatsoeuer was superfluous in the Arts of them, they [Page 369] translated into their owne Art. Thus it is come to passe, that through more diligence they know rather to speake, then to liue. Heare how great euill too great subtiltie can cause, and how great an enemie it is to truth. Protagoras saith, that alike, concerning euery thing it may be disputed on vpon both parts: and concerning this very thing, whether that euery thing may be disputed on vp­on both parts. Nausiphanes saith, that of these things that seeme to be, that no­thing rather is, then is not. Parmenides saith, that of these things that are seene, there is nothing at all. Z [...]no El [...]ates hath cast all businesse out of businesse; hee saith, that nothing is. The Pyrrhonians are for the most part conuersant about the same things, so are the Meg [...]ricans, and Eretricans, and the Academicks, who haue brought in a new knowledge, of knowing nothing. Cast all these things in­to that superfluous flocke of Liberall studies. Those deliuer a knowledge that will not profit; these take away the hope of all knowledge: it is better to know superfluous things, then nothing at all. These doe not carry a light before, whereby the eye may bee directed to that which is true: these put out mine eyes. If I beleeue Protagoras, there is nothing but doubts in the nature of things: if Nausiphanes, this one thing is certaine, that nothing is certaine: if Par­menides, there is nothing but one thing: if Zen [...], there is not one thing indeed. What therefore be we? What these things which stand about, nourish, and sustaine vs? The whole nature of things is a shade, or vaine, or deceitfull. I cannot easily tell, whether I may be more angry at them, who would haue vs to know nothing: or at them, who haue not indeed left this thing vnto vs, to know nothing.

EPIST. LXXXIX.

The difference betwixt Philosophie and wisedome: and a diuerse diuision thereof, and a­gaine a diuision and description of the parts. Then an admonition, that these and such like are to be referred to manners and to the minde: and by the way he inueigh­eth against those that be badly rich, and therewithall he chastiseth riotousnesse and couetousnesse.

THou desirest a profitable thing, and which is for certaine necessa­rie vnto wisedome, namely, that Philosophie be diuided, and that the huge bodie thereof be disposed into members. For more easi­ly by parts are we brought to the knowledge of the whole. I would that as the face of the whole world commeth into sight, so that whole Philosophie might come vnto vs, a sight most like to the world. For truely it would speedily draw all mortall men into admiration of it selfe, these things being left, which now with great admiration of the great ones, we doe beleeue. But because this cannot fall forth, so shall it be looked vpon by vs, as the secrets of the world are seene. The minde of a wise-man indeed com­prehendeth the whole frame thereof, neyther lesse swiftly goeth about it, then our eye goeth about the skie: but to vs, to whom darkenesse is to be broken thorow, and whose sight faileth in that which is hard by, seuerall things can more easily be shewed, we being as yet not capable of the whole. I will there­fore doe that which thou requirest, and I will diuide Philosophie into parts, not into pieces. For it is profitable to be diuided, and not to be hacked small. For as to comprehend the greatest, so hard it is, to comprehend the smallest things [Page 370] The people are described into Tribes, an armie into hundreths. Whatsoeuer hath encreased to be very great, is more easily taken notice of, if it hath departed into parts [...] which (as I haue said) it is no [...] meete, they should be innumerable and small. For too great a diuision hath the same fault, that no diuision hath: it is like to that which is confused, whatsoeuer is [...]ut euen vnto dust. First there­fore as it seemeth I will tell, what difference there may be betweene wisedome and Philosophie. Wisdome is a perfect good thing of the minde of man: Phi­losophie is a loue, an affectation of wisdome. This sheweth that which it hath attained vnto. It appeareth, whence Philosophie may be named: for it confes­seth with the name it selfe. Some haue defined wisdome thus; that they cal­led it a knowledge of diuine and of humane things. Some thus; Wisdome is to haue knowne diuine and humane things, and the causes of these. This addi­tion seemeth superfluous vnto me, because causes be parts of diuine and of hu­mane things. Also there haue beene who haue defined Philosophie, some one way, and some another way: some haue said, that it is a studie of vertue; some a studie of correcting the minde. By some it is called a desire of true reason. As though it were manifest, that there were some difference betwixt Philosophie and Wisedome. For it cannot come to passe, that that which is affec [...]ed, and that which affecteth is the same thing. As there is much difference betwixt mo­ney and couetousnesse, seeing the one desireth, the other is desired: so is there betwixt Philosophie and Wisdome. For this is the reward and effect of that [...] that commeth, this is come vnto. Wisedome is that which the Grecians call [...]. This word did the Romanes also vse, as also they now vse Philosophie; thing which the auncient Comedies acted in gownes will proue, and the title written vpon the monument of Dossennus:

Stranger stand still, to go do not proceede,
But slay, the wisedome of DOSSENNVS reade.

Some of our men, although Philosophie were the studie of vertue, and this were sought for, and that did seeke, haue notwithstanding thought, that those might not be seuered. For neyther Philosophie is without vertue, nor vertue without Philosophie. Philosophie is a studie of vertue, but by vertue it selfe: but ney­ther can vertue be without the studie of it selfe, nor the studie of vertue be with­out it selfe. For not as in these who endeuour to strike any thing from a farre off, in one place is he that striketh, in another that which is striken: nor as jour­nies which leade vnto Cities, be without them. By vertue wee come vnto it. Therefore Philosophie and vertue doe cleaue together betwixt themselues. Both the greatest and most authors haue said, that there be three parts of Philo­sophie; namely, Morall, Naturall, and Reasonable. The first composeth the minde, the second searcheth the nature of things, the third exacteth the propri­eties of words, and their frame, and manner of reasoning, that false things may not creepe in for that which is true. But there be found, who likewise would di­uide Philosophie into fewer things, and who would diu [...]de it into more. Som of the Aristotelians haue added a fourth part, namely, Ciuill skill, because it desi­reth a certaine proper exercise, and is occupied about another matter. Certaine haue added a part vnto these, which the Grecians call [...], the knowledge of gouerning a familie. Some also haue seperated a place for the kindes of life. But is not any part of these, which is not found in that Morall part. The Epicu­r [...]ans haue supposed, that there be two parts of Philosophie, Naturall and Mo­rall. [Page 371] The reasoning part they haue remoued away. Then when they were constrained with the things themselues to seperate doubtfull things, to reproue false things lying hid vnder the shew of that which is true, themselues also brought in a place, which they call Concerning iudgement and rule, it beeing called Reasonable after another name: but they suppose that place to bee an augmentation of a Naturall part. The Cyrenians tooke naturall things a­way together with the reasonable, and were content with Morall: but these also, who remoue them away, doe bring them in another way. For they diuide Morall thinges into fiue partes: that one part is of things to be desi­red and to bee fledde from, another of the affections, a third of the actions, a fourth of the causes, a fift of the arguments. Causes of things are from the naturall part, arguments from the reasonable, actions from the Morall. Aristo Chius not onely said, that the naturall and reasonable were superfluous, but al­so contrarie, hee also clipped Morall Philosophie round about, which he had left alone. For hee tooke away that place, which containeth admonitions, and said, it appertained to a Tutor, and not to a Philosopher or a louer of Wise­dome: as though that a wise-man is any thing else, then a Tutor of man­kinde. Therefore sith Philosophie or the loue of Wisedome is three-folde, let vs first beginne to dispose the Morall part thereof, or that which ordereth the maners of men. Which it pleaseth againe to be deuided into three: that the first might bee a contemplation distributing his owne to euerie man, and e­steeming how much euerie thing is worthy of; this part is most profitable; for what is so necessarie as to set prices vpon things? The second part is of en­deuour, the third of actions. For the first is, that thou iudge of how great worth euerie thing may be: the second, that thou take an ordered and tem­perate affection to these things: the third, that there may be an agreement betwixt thine endeauour and action, that in all these things thou mayest a­gree with thy selfe. Whatsoeuer of these three shall bee wanting, it also troubleth the rest. For what profiteth it, to haue all things iudged of within, if thou be too much in eagernesse? What profiteth it to haue repressed eager­nesse, and to haue desires in thine owne power, if in the verie action of things thou be ignorant of times, and knowest not when, and where, and how euery thing ought to be done? For it is one thing to haue knowen the worth and prices of things; another, the oportunities; another to refraine eagernesse, and to goe, not to rush to the doing of things. Therefore then is life agreea­ble to it selfe, when action hath not forsaken eagernesse. Eagernesse is con­ceiued from the worth of euery thing, therefore it is remisse or more fierce, according as that thing is worthy to be sought for. The part of Philosophie which teacheth concerning the nature of things is cut into two; things that haue bodies, or into those that be without bodies. Both are deuided (as I may so speake) into their owne degrees. The place of bodies into these first, namely into those things which make, and those things which are begotten of these: but the elements are begotten. The very place of an element (as some suppose) is simple, or without any mixture at all; as othersome thinke, it is diuided into a matter, and into a cause mouing all things, and into the elements. It remaineth that wee diuide the reasonable part of Philoso­phie. Euerie speech is eyther continued or diuided betwixt him that answ [...] ­reth and asketh. It hath pleased that the one should be called Dialecticke, or the Arte of Logicke, the other Rhetoricke, This careth for wordes, and sense, and order. Dialecticke is diuided into two parts; into words and significations: that [Page 372] is, i [...]to things which are spoken of, and into wordes, wherewith they are spo­ken. Then there followeth an huge diuision of them both: therefore I will make an end in this place.

I onely will relate
Of things their chiefest s [...]ate.

Otherwise, if I would make parts of parts, there will be made a book of questi­ons. I scarre thee not, O Lucilius, the best amongst men, from reading these things, so that whatsoeuer thou shalt reade, thou doe presently referre it vn­to manners. Bridle thou those, stirre vp that which languisheth in th [...]e, binde that which is loose, tame that which is stubborne, and vexe thy publique de­sires as much as thou canst [...] and these saying, How long the same things? Answere, I ought to say, How long will yee the same offend? Yee will haue the remedies to cease before the vices. But I so much the rather will speake, and because yee refuse, I will goe on. Then beginneth Physicke to pro­fite, when touching causeth griefe in a troubled bodie. I will also speake those things which shall profite the vnwilling. Sometime not some flattering voyce shall come vnto you: and because each of you will not heare the truth, heare it in publique. How farre will yee propagate the limits of your posses­sions? The ground is narrow for one Master, which receiued a people. How farre will yee stretch out your tillage, not being contented indeede with sow­ing of Prouinces, to limit a measure of your Farmes. The runnings of famous [...]louds thorough the ground of priuate men, and great Riuers, and the bounds of great Nations, from the Fountaine vnto the mouth, bee yours. This also is too little, except yee haue compassed Seas with your large pos­sessions: except your Bayliffe raigne beyond the Hadrian, and Ionian, and AE­gaean Sea, except Ilands, the houses of great Captaines, bee numbred amongst the basest things. Possesse ye so largely as ye will; let that be priuate ground, which sometimes was an Empire: make yours whatsoeuer yee can, so that more belongeth to another man. Now I talke with you, whose riotousnesse is alike spaciously spread abroad, as the couetousnesse of those is. I will tell you; How long shall be no water-lake, ouer which the height of your Villages may not hang? No streame, whose bankes your buildings may not couer a­bout? Wheresoeuer veynes of warme water shall spring vp, there new lodg­ings of ryot shall be builded. Wheresoeuer the shoare shall bend crookedly into some creeke, yee presently will lay foundations; not being contented with ground, except yee force with hand, to driue the Sea farther in. Although your houses gli [...]er in all places, somewhere being set vpon Mountaines, for the vast prospect both of Land and Sea: somewhere being reared vp from the plaine ground to the height of Mountaines; when yee haue builded ma­nie, when yee haue builded huge things, yee are notwithstanding but seue­rall and small bodies. What doe many chambers pro [...]ite, yee lie but in one. It is not yours, wheresoeuer yee are not. Then I passe to you, whose deepe and vnsatiable throa [...]e, on the one side searcheth Seas, on the other side searcheth Landes. Through great labour hee followeth after some crea­tures with hookes, some with snares, some with diuers kindes of Nets: no liuing creatu [...]es haue peace, except it bee by loathing and detesting them. For how little of these bankets, which ye prepare through so many hands, doe ye taste of with a mouth wearied with pleasures? How little of this wilde beast, [Page 373] taken with danger, doth the master with a raw and loathing stomacke taste of? How little of so many shel-fish brought from so far, slideth downe by this in­satiable stomacke? Vnhappie also ye are, because yee vnderstand not, that yee haue a greater hunger [...] then a belly. Tell these things to other men, so that whi­lest thou tellest them, thou mayest heare them thy selfe. Write, so that when thou hast written, thou read, and referre all to the manners, and to the asswa­ging of the outrage of affections. Studie, not to know any thing more, but bet­ter to know things.

EPIST. XC.

The praise of Philosophy, it hath formed life, it hath framed societies and Empires, it hath giuen lawes and equitie. Also whether Arts be profitable to life, as working with the hammer, working in Marble, in mettals, on cloathes, and such like? Him­selfe denieth it, against POSIDONIVS, and saith, that these things are inferiour to the maiestie thereof, and that many of these be super [...]luous. It manageth, and hath managed the affaires, not of the bodie, but of the minde. Also whether wise-men were in the rude age? No, but those that were like to wise-men, by the benefit not of learning, but of nature. There are many good things amongst these, and fruit­full for knowledge, and for life.

WHo can doubt, my Lucilius, but that it is the gift of the immortall gods, that we liue [...] but of Philosophy, that we liue well? There­fore by so much that we owe more to it, then to the gods, by how much more a good life is a greater benefit, then life? For certaine it should be due, except the gods had giuen Philosophie it selfe: the knowledge whereof they haue giuen to none, but the abilitie to all. For if they also had made this a common good, wee likewise should be borne wise: wisedome had lost that which is the best therein, that it is not amongst casuall things. For now this is precious and magnificent in that, that it commeth not by chance, that e­uery man oweth that vnto himselfe, that it is not sought for from another man. What shouldest thou haue, to admire in Philosophy, if it had beene a thing comming by gift? One worke of this is, to finde forth the truth concerning diuine and humane things: Iustice, Godlinesse, Religion, and all the other traine of vertues vnited and agreeing amongst themselues, neuer do depart from this. This hath taught to honor diuine things, to loue humane things, and that go­uernment is in power of the gods, and that societie is to be amongst men: which sometime remained inuiolable, before couetousnesse distracted societie, and was a cause of pouertie euen vnto them whom it hath made rich. For they haue ceased to possesse all things, whilest they would haue them to be their owne. But the first men, and who were begotten of these without corruption, followed nature, and had the same, both for a Captaine and law, according to the iudgement of him that was better. For it is the part of Nature to submit worser things to the better. For either the greatest or the most vigorous bodies doe indeed rule ouer the dumbe flockes. A base Bull goeth not before, but he who hath ouercome other males in greatnesse, and in strength of limbes: the highest of Elephants leadeth the flocke: amongst men for chiefest is he accoun­ted [Page 374] who is the best. Therefore a Gouernour was chosen by the minde: and so it was the chiefest happinesse of the Nations; amongst whom one could not be more mightie, except he were better. For he is able to doe so much as he will, who thinketh that he cannot doe, saue that which he ought. Posidonius there­fore doth iudge, that rule was in the power of wise-men, in that which is called the golden age. These contained their hands, and defended the weaker from those that were more strong: they perswaded and disswaded, and shewed both profitable and vnprofitable things. The wisdome of these men prouided that nothing might be wanting vnto theirs, their fortitude kept dangers backe, their bountie encreased, and adorned those that were subiect vnto them. It was not a Kingdome to rule ouer other men, but an office. No man tried how much hee was able to doe against them, through whom he had begun to be able to doe. Neither was there either minde or cause to iniurie any one, when there was good obedience to him who gouerned well, and a King could threaten nothing besides, to those who did badly obey, then that they should depart out of his Kingdome. But after that, vices creeping vp, Kingdomes were turned into ty­ranny: there began to be need of lawes, the which were made by wise men at their beginning. Solon who founded Athens with equall right: amongst the seuen noted for wisdom in his age. If the same age had brought forth Lycorgus, he had beene in that holy number accounted the eight. The lawes of Zaleucus and of Charondas are praised; these learned not right at the Bar, nor at Counsel­lers dores, but in that secret and holy solitarie place of Pythagaras, which they gaue to Sicily, which flourished then, and to Greece in Italy. Hitherto I agree to Posidonius: that Arts were inuented by Philosophy, which Arts life vseth in continual practise: I wil not grant; neither that glory which is adioyned to buil­ding. That, saith he, taught those who were scattered vp and downe, and co­uered with a cottage, or with some rock, vnder which they digged, or with the trunke of an hollow tree, to deuise houses for them. But I iudge Philosophy, no more to haue inuented these frames of one house arising vpon another, and pressing downe Cities, then the ponds of fishes shut herein, to the end that the throat might not vndergoe perils of tempests, and although that the sea were exc [...]dingly rough, yet that riot might haue her hauens, wherein she might fat­ten seuerall sorts of fish. What sayest thou? hath Philosophie taught men to haue a locke and key? and what else was it, then to giue a signe to couetous­nesse? Hath Philosophy with so great perill of the inhabitants, hung vp these tops of houses that hang ouer vs? For it was too little to be couered by those things which by hap did befall vnto vs, and without difficultie and art to finde out some receptacle for our selues. Beleeue that age was happie, which was be­fore builders of houses were. These things were borne when riot began to be, to h [...]w wood into a foure square, and with an instrument of iron cutting it, as it is marked out, and to polish a beame with a certaine hand.

Our forefathers with wedges claue
Such wood as they then cut would haue.

For houses were not prepared for a supper, which could encertaine the people: neither for this vse were Pine or Fir-trees carried vpon a long row of carts, the streets trembling thereat, whilest from that tree, roofes being loaded with gold did hang. Forkes vnder-propped a cottage hanging downe vpon both sides: thicke dead boughes and leaues being heaped together, and set a side-long, cau­sed [Page 375] raine although it were great to runne of. They being secure, dwelled vn­der these houses. Thatch couered free-men, bondage enhabiteth vnder mar­ble and gold. In that also I disagree from Posidonius, because hee iudgeth that working-tooles were deuised by wise-men. For after this manner he might say, that they were wise, by whom

Deuis'd it was the wilde with net and gin
To take; with dogs great fields to compasse in.

For the craft of men, not wisdome hath deuised all these things. In this thing also I disagree, that they were wise-men, who inuented the metals of iron and brasse: when the burned ground through the firing of woods had powred forth the veines that did lie aboue. Such men inuent these things, as honour them. This indeed seemeth not so subtill a question to mee, as it seemeth to Posidonius: whether the hammer or the pinsers began to be vsed first. One of an exercised, sharpe, of no great, nor high wit found them both forth, and euery thing besides which is to be sought for with a bended bodie, and with a minde looking towards the earth. A wise-man hath beene easie to feed. What else? sith euen also in this age, hee desireth to be most soone prouided. How I pray thee agreeth it, that thou admire both Diogenes and Daedalus? Whether of these seemeth vnto thee to be wise, he that inuented the saw: or he who seeing a boy drinking water in his hollow hand, presently brake a cup taken out of his bagge, thus reprouing himselfe: How long haue I, foolish man, had superfluous bur­thens? Who foulded himselfe double in a Tub, and did lie therein? At this day whether thinkest thou him the wiser man, who hath found forth, how out of secret pipes he may cast forth Saffron vp to a great height; who with a sudden force of water filleth and drieth little seas; who so coucheth together the changeable roofes of supping Parlors, that one fashion after another may presently succeed, and so often the roofe may bee changed as the dishes them­selues: or him, who sheweth this both to himselfe, and to other men, that Na­ture hath commanded no hard or difficult thing vnto vs? That we may dwell without a cutter of marble, that we may be cloathed without traffick with the Serians, that we may haue necessary things for our vses, if wee shall be content with these things, which the earth hath laid in the highest part therof? Whom if mankind would heare, they should know that a Cooke were as super [...]uous as a Souldier. They were wise-men, or for certaine, like vnto wise-men, to the bodies of whom there was a speedie fence. Necessarie things cost but a simple care: men labour for delights. Thou wilt not desire worke-men, if thou fol­low nature. It would not haue vs to bee entangled, it hath furnished vs, vnto whatsoeuer things it hath constrained vs. Cold is intollerable for a naked bo­die. What therefore? What, cannot the skins of wilde beasts, and of other creatures, enough and abundantly defend vs from cold? Doe not many Nati­ons couer their bodies with barkes of trees? Are not the feathers of birds sewed together for the vse of apparell? And are not at this day a great part of the Scy­thians couered with the skins of Foxes and of Mise, which bee so [...]t, and not to be pierced thorow by the windes? Notwithstanding there is neede of a thicker shade, to driue backe the heat of the Sommer Sunne. What therefore, hath not Antiquitie hidden many places, which either by iniurie of time, or by some o­ther chance being made hollow, haue retired into the forme of a den? What therefore? haue they not with their hands wo [...]en an hurdle of twigs, and pla­stered [Page 376] it with base clay, then haue they not couered the top thereof with stub­ble, and with other things fetched out of the wood, and whilst raine hath slidden downe by the caues therof, haue they not in security spent the Winter? What therefore? doe not the Syrtick Nations lie in a place digged out of the ground? who because of the too great heate of the Sunne, haue no couering sufficient en­ough for the repelling of the heate, but the very drie ground it selfe? Nature was not so much an enemie, that seeing she gaue an easie passage of life to all other creatures besides, man alone should not liue without so many Arts. None of these things is by it commanded vnto vs, nothing is to be sought for with labour to prolong our life. We be borne to prepared things: we haue made all things difficult vnto vs by disdaine of easie things. Houses and clothes and nourishments of bodies and meates, and those things which be now made a great businesse were easie to come by, and freely gotten, and prepared with a light labour: for the measure of all things was as necessitie required; we haue made these things precious, we haue made them marueilous, we haue made them to be sought for with great and with many Arts. Nature sufficeth to that, which it requireth. Riot hath reuolted from nature, which continually inciteth it selfe, and increaseth in so many ages, and helpeth vices with wit. First it be­gan to desire superfluous, then contrarie things, last of all it solde the minde to the bodie, and commanded it to serue the lust thereof. All these Arts, where­with the Cittie is continually set on worke, or maketh such a stirre, do [...] manage the affaires of the bodie: to which all things were once performed as to a ser­uant, but now are prouided as for a Lord. Therfore hence be the shops of wea­uers, hence of hammer-men, hence of those that seeth perfumes, hence of those that teach effeminate motions of the bodie, and effeminate and wanton songs. For that naturall meane hath retired backe, which finished desires with necessa­rie helpe: now is it clownishnesse and miserie to be willing to haue so much as doth suffice. It is incredible [...] my Lucilius, how easily sweetnesse of speech can draw from the truth, euen those that be great men. Behold Posidonius, as mine opinion is, one of those who haue added much to Philosophie, whilst first of all he will describe how some threeds may be [...]ard spunne, and how some may be drawne from the soft and loosened tow: then how a webbe of cloth extendeth the yarne with weights hung thereon, how the woofe is wouen in to mollifie the hardnesse of the cloth [...] pressing it together on both sides, and how the broad places may be constrained to come, and to be ioyned together: he also said, that the Weauers Art was inuented by wise-men, forgetting this most subtile kinde, which was afterwards found out, wherein

The web is ioyn'd to beame, a small s [...]icke doth diuide
They yarne, the middle woo [...]es with shittle slide,
Which teeth in stay of Weauers loome fast put,
With their broad comb the wouen yarne do cut.

But if it had hapned vnto him to see the webs of our time, of which apparrell is made that will not couer, wherein I will not say, that there is no helpe to the bodie [...] but that there is no helpe for shame? Then he passeth to husbandmen, and no lesse eloquently describeth how the ground is plowed vp, and tilled a­gaine, to the end that the earth may more easily lie open to the rootes, then he describeth the seed that is sowen, and weedes picked out by the hand, lest some casuall and wilde thing may encrease vnder it, to kill the corne. This also, saith [Page 377] he, that it is the worke of wise-men; as though that now also tillers of ground did not finde out very many new things, whereby fertilitie might be encreased. Then not contented with these Arts, sendeth a wise-man downe into the hand­mill; for hee declareth how imitating the nature of things, men beganne to make bread. The hardnesse of the teeth meeting together, one with ano­ther, breaketh, saith he, the corne that is receiued into the mouth, and whatsoe­uer falleth from them, is brought againe by the tongue vnto the same teeth: then is it mingled with spittle, that more easily it might passe thorow the slip­perie jawes; but when it commeth into the bellie, it is concocted with the heat of the stomacke, then at length commeth it to the bodie. Some following this example, laide one rough stone vpon another, in likenesse of the teeth, of which the vnmoueable part expecteth the motion of the other: then the graines are broken by the grinding of them both, and more are they turned backe againe, vntill being ground they be brought vnto meale: then sprinckled he flower with water, and mixed it with continuall kneading, and made bread thereof; which first of all warme ashes and an hote stone did bake: afterwards by little and lit­tle were Ouens found forth, and other meanes, whose heate might serue, accor­ding to the pleasure of men. There wanted not much, but that he said, the Shoomakers craft to be, also found forth by wise-men. Reason indeed, but not right reason hath inuented all these things. These are inuentions of a man, not of a wise-man: so verily indeed as ships, by which we passe ouer Riuers, and by which we passe ouer Seas, sailes being fitted for the receiuing of the force of windes, and a sterne being added to the end of the poope, which hither and thi­ther might enforce the course of the ship: and an example is drawn from fishes, who be stered by the taile, and with the small force thereof do bend their swift­nesse into eyther side. All these things indeede, saith he, did a wise-man finde forth, but being lesser then that himselfe might handle them, he gaue them to more base seruants; yet they were inuented by none other, then by such as at this day take charge of them. We know that certaine things haue at length comne forth in our memory; as the vse of windowes made of stone, sending cleere light thorow them, by reason of a slate that the light shineth thorow [...] as the hanging vp of bathes, and pipes pressed into the walls, by which heat might be dispersed all about, which should alike cherish at one time, both those things that be below, and those that be aboue. What shall I speake of Marbles, wher­with Temples, wherewith houses doe shine? What of heapes of stone, fashio­ned to be round and smooth, whereof we make galleries and houses capable to receiue whole peoples? What of the notes of words, whereby speedie speech is taken, and the hand followeth the swiftnesse of the tongue? These are the de­uices of the most vile slaues: wisedome sitteth more deepe, neyther teacheth it the hands, it is a mistresse of mindes. Wilt thou know what thing that hath found forth, or what it hath made? Not vnseemely motions of the bodie, nor variable singings by the Trumpet and Flute, by which breath being receiued, eyther in the going forth, or in the passing thorow, is formed into voyce: nor weapons, nor walls, nor warr [...]s; it endeuoureth profitable things, it fauoureth peace, and calleth all mankinde to an agreement. It is not, I say, an artificer of instruments for necessarie vses. Why assignest thou so small things vnto it? Thou seest a framer of thy life. It hath other Arts indeede vnder rule: for he that hath life, the ornaments of life do also serue vnto him. But he tendeth to a blessed estate, to that he leadeth, to that he openeth the way. Hee sheweth what be, and what seeme to be euill thi [...]gs. He putteth vanitie out of the mind. [Page 378] He giueth solid greatnesse: but he represseth that which is puffed vp, and beau­tifull to be seene, through that which is vaine: neyther suffereth hee to be vn­knowne, what difference there is betwixt great and swelling things; he deliue­reth the knowledge of all nature, and of his owne. He declareth what the gods, and of what manner they be; what be the infernall, what the houshold and the genies be: what be those euerlasting soules, hauing the second nature of deities, where they abide, what they doe, what they can, what they will. This is the initiation of him, whereby not a priuate hallowed place, but the huge Temple of all the gods, euen this world is laid open: whose true images, and true representations he hath brought forth to be seene in the soules of men: for the sight is dull vnto so great sights. Then it returneth to the beginning of things, and to eternall reason infused into the whole, and to the force of all seedes properly figuring euery thing. Then hee beginneth to enquire of the minde, whence it was, where, how long, and in how many parts it is diuided. Then from corporall hee hath translated himselfe to incorporall things, and hath examined the truth, and the arguments of them: after these, how the doubts of life and of death should be discerned. A wise-man withdraweth not himselfe, I say, as it seemeth to Posidonius, [...]rom these Arts, but not at all com­meth he vnto them. For hee had iudged nothing worthy of inuention, which he would not iudge worthy of perpetuall vse. He would not take vp things to be laid down. Anacharsis, saith he, found out the Potters-wheele by the turning whereof vessels be fashioned. Then because that the Potters wheele is found in Homer, he had rather that the verses should seeme to be false, then a fable. I do not contend, that Anacharsis was the author of this thing: and if he was, a wise-man indeed inuented it, but not as being a wise-man: as wise-men doe many things, as they be men, not as they be wise-men. Suppose that a wise-man is exceeding swift, hee will excell all in running, as hee is swift, not as he is wise. I would desire to shew some glasse-maker to Posidonius, who with breath fashio­neth glasse into many formes, which would scarce bee framed by a diligent hand. These things are found out, since wee haue ceased to finde out a wise-man. Democritus himselfe is said to haue found out the Arch of stone, that the bending of stones by little and little declining on one side, might be fastened to a stone in the middest. I say, that this is false. For it is needfull that before Democritus, both bridges and gates were, whose tops for the most part are croo­ked. Furthermore, yee haue forgotten, how the same Democritus found out, how Iuory should be polished, how a well purged stone should be turned into Emrold, by which purging euen at this day, stones profitable in this kind being found out, are coloured. Although that a wise-man hath found out these things, yet found he not them out, as he is a wise-man: for he doth many things, which we see as well to be done, euen by those that are most vnwise, but either more skilfully or more practically. Seekest thou what a wise-man hath found out [...] what he hath brought forth into light? First the nature of things, which he hath looked vpon, as other liuing creatures haue done, with eyes slow to di­uine things. Then the law of life, which hee hath directed according to all things: neither only hath he taught to know, but to follow the gods, and to re­ceiue accidents no otherwise then commands. He hath forbidden to obey false opinions, and he hath weighed with true estimation, of how great worth euery thing was: hee hath condemned pleasures mixed with repentance. And hath praised good things which will alwaies please, and hath made apparent, that he is the happiest man, who hath no need of happinesse: that he is the most migh­tie [Page 379] man who hath power ouer himselfe. I speake not of that Philosophie, which hath placed a Citizen out of his countrey, gods out of the world, which hath giuen ver [...]ue to pleasure: but concerning that, which supposeth that there is no good thing, saue that which is honest, which cannot be molli [...]ied neither by the gifts of man, nor of Fourtune; the price of whom is this, not to be able to be taken with any price. I doe not suppose that this Philosophie was in that rude age, wherein as yet workmanship was wanting, and they learned pro­fitable things by vse it selfe: as before those fortunate times, when benefits of Nature did lie to be vsed in common, before couetousnesse and riot had seuered mortall men, and that by consort they ran out to spoile, they were not wise-men, although they did things to be done by those that are wise. Certainly not any one shall more admire any other estate; neither if God permitted him to fashion earthly things, and to giue manners to the Nations, shall allow any o­ther thing, then that which is remembred to haue beene amongst them, with whom

The ground then none did plow, none might diuide
Land that to him alone might then betide.
The earth it selfe in common all did lie;
No toiling was, but things to grow did hie.

What was more happie then that kinde of men? They enioyed the nature of things in common: that sufficed to be a parent for the defence of all: this was the secure possession of publike wealth. Why haue I not said that, that kinde of mortall men was the richest of all, wherein thou couldest not finde one that was poore? Couetousnes [...]e brake into things that were setled exceeding well: and whilest it desired to take somewhat apart, and to turne it to the vse of it selfe, it hath made all things other mens, and from being vnmeasurable, hath brought them into a strait, and hath brought in pouertie, and by coueting ma­ny things, hath lost all things. Therefore although it should now conuert and repaire that which it hath lost; although it should adde fields vnto fields, and driue out neighbours from their lands, either by price, or wrong; although it should enlarge grounds to be as bigge as prouinces; and call a long wandering through their owne, a possession: yet no enlarging of limits shall bring vs thi­ther, whence we haue departed. When we haue done all, we shall haue much; whereas we had all. The earth it selfe was more fertill without labour, and was large for the vse of the people who robbed it not. Whatsoeuer Nature had brought forth, it was a pleasure no lesse to haue found it out, then to shew the inuention to another: neither could there be either too much or too little to any one: it was diuided amongst those that did agree. As yet the stronger had not laid hand vpon the weaker, as yet a couetous man did not by hiding that which did lie vp for him, also exclude another from necessary things. There was the like care of another, and of a mans owne selfe. Weapons did cease, and hands were not tainted with humane bloud; they turned all their hatred vpon beasts. They whom some thicke wood had couered from the Sunne, who li­ued safe vnder leaues in a base cottage, against the rigor of Winter or of raine, passed ouer pleasant nights, without sighing. Carefulnesse, tosseth vs in our purple and stirreth vs vp with most sharpe prickes; the hard ground gaue soft sleepe vnto them. Carued roofes did not hang ouer them, but they lying in the open aire, the starres did slide ouer them, and the notable spectacle of the [Page 380] nights, the world was driuen on apace, leading so great a worke with silence: as well by day, as by night, the prospect of this most beautifull house did lie open: one might behold the signes, declining from the middle part of heauen, and a­gaine some arising from their hidden place. How could it not but delight to wander amongst miracles that be so largely spread abroad? But yee be afraid of euery sound of the houses, and if any thing make a noise amongst your pi­ctures, yee flee away astonished. They had not houses like Cities. The aire and winde was free in open places, and the light shade of a rocke or of a tree, and very cleare fountaines, and riuers not made stale by any worke, nor by a conduit, nor by any constrained course, but running of their owne accord, and meadowes beautifull without arte, amongst these things there is country little houses, reared vp by a rusticall hand. This house was according to Nature, wherein one might be lawfull to dwell, neither fearing it, nor for it; now houses be a great part of our feare. But although a notable, and a life wanting deceit was vnto them, yet were they not wise-men, sith now this is a name in greatest worke. Notwithstanding I deny not that they were men of an high spirit, and freshly sprung from the gods: for the world being not as yet wasted in strength sent forth better things. But as wit was more valiant in all, and more prepared for labours; so wits were not consummated in all things. For Nature giueth not vertue; it is a skill to be made good. They indeed did not seeke for gold, nor siluer, nor glistering stones shining amongst the lowest dregs of the earth, yea as yet they euen spared dumbe creatures: so farre was it off, that a man not angry should kill a man not fearing; onely comming to see him, should kill any one. Not as yet any one had garnished apparell, as yet gold was not wouen in; as yet it was not delued out. What therefore? they were innocent in ignorance of things: but there is much difference, whether one will not, or know not to sinne. Iustice was wanting to them, wisedome was wanting, temperance and fortitude was wanting. A rude life had certaine things like vnto all these ver­tues: vertue befalleth not but to a minde instructed and taught, and brought to the highest by continuall exercise. Furthermore, indeed we are borne to this, but without this: and also in the best, before thou instruct, there is matter of vertue, not vertue it selfe.

EPIST. XCI.

The dolefull and sudden burning of the Colony at Lyons: by casting in of that, we are to thinke of sudden things, and which may fall forth to a man. Hee setteth before our eyes the vncertaintie and variablenesse of things: the greatest and most firme things may be diminished, changed, withdrawne, by earth-quake, waters and fire. All mortall things are condemned to perish. Therefore neither death nor infamie is to be feared by a man.

OVR Liberalis is now sad, the fire, wherewith the Colony at Ly­ons was burned vp, being related vnto him. This accident might moue any man, much more one who loueth his country excee­ding much. Which thing causeth to seeke out the resolution of ones minde, namely, which he hath exercised, for those things which he supposed might be feared: but I wonder not, if this so vnthought of mischiefe, and almost vnheard of hath not beene without feare, sith it was with­out [Page 381] example. For fire hath vexed many Cities, it hath destroyed none. For also where fire is set vpon houses by the enemies hand, it faileth in many places: and although forthwith it bee raised vp againe, notwithstanding seldome doth it so deuoure all, that nothing be left to the sword. Scarce also at any time hath there beene so grieuous and so pernicious an earth-quake, as to ouer­throw whole Townes. Lastly, neuer hath there any where beene so terrible a fire, that nothing remained to another burning. One night hath laide along so many most faire workes, euerie one of which might haue made seuerall Ci­ties to haue beene famous; and it falleth forth in so great peace, as could not indeed be feared in warre. Who can beleeue this? that armes being quiet eue­ry where, when securitie is spread abroad throughout the whole earth, Lyons that was pointed at in Gaule, is sought for. Fortune hath permitted all, whom publiquely it hath afflicted, to feare that which they were to suffer: no great thing but hath had some space of the ruine thereof. In this there was onely one night betweene a great Citie and none at all. To conclude, I am longer in telling thee that it hath perished, then it was in perishing. O Liberalis, all these things incline our affection to be firme and vndaunted against the euils thereof. Neyther is it striken without a cause. Vnexpected things doe aggrauate the more: noueltie addeth weight to miseries: neyther any man but hath the more grieued at that thing which he hath admired. Therefore nothing ought to be vnprouided for by vs: the minde is to be sent before vnto all things: and wee must thinke, not whatsoeuer is accustomed, but whatsoeuer may be done. For what is it, that fortune cannot when she will, take away euen from the most flo­rishing? which he cannot by so much the more assault and shake, by how much it shineth the more beautifully, What is hard, or what is difficult vnto her? Not alwayes one way, nor all of her runneth vpon vs. Sometimes she calleth for our owne hands vpon vs, sometimes contented with her owne strength, shee findeth forth dangers without an author. No time is expected, in pleasures themselues causes of dolour doe arise. Warre ariseth in the middest of peace, and the helpes of securitie passe ouer into feare. He is an enemie from a friend, a foe from a fellow. The calmes of summer is driuen into sudden tempests and those which be greater the winter storms. Without an enemie we suffer hostile things; and too great felicitie hath found forth causes of slaughter vnto it self, if other things faile. Diseases set vpon the most temperate, the consumption vpon the strongest, punishment vpon the most innocent, tumult vpon the most se­cret. Chance chuseth some new thing, by which as it were forgetting, she re­neweth her owne strength. Whatsoeuer long continuance of many labours, and much fauour of God hath builded vp, one day scattereth and dissipateth it. He gaue long delay to euils hasting on, who hath said that a day, an houre and a moment of time sufficeth for the ouerthrowing of Empires. There were some comfort to our weakenesse, and to our affaires, if all things were repaired with so great speed as they be finished by. Now increasings goe softly, but they make hast to losse: nothing in priuate, nothing in publique is firme: as well the desti­nies of men as of Cities are turned about. Feare neerly attendeth the choysest pleasure; & although there are no occasions of troubles outwardly, mischiefes breake forth from such places where they were least expected. These King­domes which stood both in ciuill and forraine warres, are ruined without any opposition. What Common-wealth could support her felicitie? Al things ther­fore are to be thought vpon, and the minde is to be confirmed against those things that may happen. Thinke vpon exiles, torments, warres, sickenesses and [Page 382] shipwrackes. Fortune may bereaue thee of thy countrey, and thy countrey of thee: she can cast thee into a desert, she can make that place desolate, wherein the people is almost stifled with thronging. Let the whole condition of mans life be set before our eyes, and let vs consider in our mindes (if we would not be oppressed, neither stupified with any vnusuall miseries, as if they were new) not how much happeneth oftentimes, but how much may for the most part fall out. We must wholly apprehend the inconstancie of the affaires of this world. How often haue the Cities of Asia & Achaia bin ruinated by one earthquake? How many Cities in Syria, and how much hath the earth deuoured in Mace­don? How often hath this miserie afflicted Cyprus? how often hath Paphos beene buried in her owne ruines? Oftentimes haue wee heard newes of the destructions of whole Cities, and we amongst whom these rumours are ordina­rily spread; how small a part are we of all things? Let vs therefore erect our selues against aduersities, and whatsoeuer thing may happen, let vs know that it is not so great as is reported. A rich Citie, the ornament of all those Prouinces, into the which it was inserted and receiued by them, being built vpon a hill, and that not ouer-high is burned. And time also shall consume the very foundati­ons of all these Cities, which now thou hearest praised for their magnficence and riches. Seest thou not how in Achaia the foundations of famous Cities are consumed? and that nothing is extant wherby it may be knowne that in times past they haue beene. Not onely those things which are framed by hand doe perish. Not onely such things as mans Art and industry hath planted doth time ouerturne, but the mountain tops moulder, and whole regions are come to nought. Those places are couered with the sea that stood far off from the sight of the same. The fire hath consumed the Mountaines from the hollow wher­of it flamed out. And in times past hath eaten away the highest Promontories which were a sollace to Sailers, & brought the proudest hills to humble shoars. The very workes of nature are vexed, and therefore ought we to suffer patient­ly the destruction of Cities. All things that stand must fall, and an end remai­neth to all things: whether the windes shut in by an internall force and blast haue shaken of the weight vnder which they be held; or the force of flouds in secret, hath throwne downe those things that stand against them; or the vio­lence of flames hath broken the ioyning together of the ground; or oldnesse, from which nothing is safe, hath by little and little ouercome them: or the vn­wholesomnesse of the skie hath cast out people, and situation hath corrupted deserts. It is a long thing to reckon vp all the wayes of the destinies. This one thing I know, that all the workes of mortall men are condemned by mor­talitie. We liue amongst those things that perish. These and such like com­forts I apply to our Liberalis, he being set on fire with a certaine burning loue to his countrey; which peraduenture is consumed, that it might be the better builded vp. Oftentimes iniurie hath made place to greater fortune. Many things haue fallen that they might rise higher and greater. Timagines an enemy to the prosperitie of the Citie, did say, that he grieued at the firing of Rome for this one thing [...] because he knew that better would rise againe, then had been burned. In this Citie also it is very like, that all will striue, that greater and more certaine things may be restored then they haue lost. I wish that they may be more long­lasting and builded with better signes of lucke for a longer age to come. For the hundreth yeare is scarce to this Colonie from the beginning thereof, an age scarce long enough for a man. It being lead forth into this frequencie, waxed well againe with the oportunitie of the place: which notwithstanding hath suf­fered [Page 383] most grieuous chances within the space of the olde age of a man. There­fore let the minde be framed to vnderstanding, and to patience of her lot, and let her know, that there is nothing which fortune dare not doe. That she hath the same right against Empires, which she hath against those that doe rule: that she can doe the same against Cities, that she doth against men. None of these things is to be fretted at. We haue entred into that world, wherein men liue by these lawes. Pleaseth it? Obey. Pleaseth it not? Depart which way thou wil. Be angry, if any thing be foolishly, vniustly resolued vpon by thy selfe. But if this necessitie tyeth the highest and lowest, therefore returne into fauour with de [...]tiny, by which all things are dissolued. There is no cause that thou measure vs with Tombes, and with these Monuments, which being of vn­equall bignesse, doe compasse the way about. The dust maketh all equall. We are borne vnlike, we die alike. The same I say of Citties, that of the inhabitants of Citties. As well was Ardea taken, as Rome. That maker of mankinde hath not distinguished vs by birth, nor by famousnesse of names, no longer then we be. But when we come to the end of mortall things: O ambition, saith he, de­part thou; let there be the same law to all things which presse the earth. We be alike to the suffering of all things. No man is more fraile then another, no man is more certaine of his owne vntill next day. Alexander the King of the Mace­donians, began like a wretch to learne Geometry, that he might know how little the earth was, whereof he had possessed very little. Thus, I say, like a wretch for this, because he was to vnderstand that hee did beare a false sirname. For who can be great in so small a thing? Those things that were deliuered were subtile, and to be learned by diligent attention: not which that mad man could perceiue, who sent his thoughts beyond the Ocean Sea. Teach me, saith he, easie things. To whom his Master said; These things be the same, and alike difficult vnto all. Thinke thou that the nature of things saith this. These things whereof thou complainest, they are the same vnto all: more easie things can be giuen vnto none; but whosoeuer will, shall make those things more easie vnto himselfe. How? With vprightnesse of minde [...] It is meet both that thou grieue, and thirst, and be hungry, and waxe olde, and if longer stay amongst men befall vnto thee, that thou be sicke, and lose somewhat and doe perish. Notwithstan­ding there is no cause that thou mayest beleeue these things which make a noise about thee. None of these things is bad, nothing intollerable or hard. Feare is from consent vnto these things. Thus thou fearest death as report. But what is more foolish then a man fearing words? Our Demetrius is accustomed e­legantly to say, that the speeches of the vnskilfull are as much esteemed by him, as is the breaking of winde. For what difference, saith he, is there vnto me, whe­ther that these doe make a noyse from aboue or from below. How great mad­nesse is it to be affraide, lest thou be discredited by those that haue no credite? As ye haue feared fame without cause, so also those things, which ye should ne­uer feare, except fame had commanded it. What shall a good man suffer losse, being bespotted with vniust reports? Neither indeed let this hurt death in the iudgement of vs: for this also endeuoureth that which is bad. None of them who accuse it, haue tried it. In the meane space it is rashn [...]sse to condemne that which thou knowest not. But thou knowest that, how profitable to many it is, how many it freeth from torments, from pouertie, from complaints, from pu­nishments, from tediousnesse. We are not in the power of any thing, sith death is in our owne power.

EPIST. XCII.

That reason ruleth in man, and that all things are to be referred to this, and that bles­sed life is in that being perfect. That externall things haue light or no weight. Al­so that pleasure is of no moment, it is the good of vnreasonable creatures. And yet that externall things may be assumed, which are according to nature; but with iudge­ment: and that this then is good in them, to be well chosen. Neuerthelesse also with­out them, that one is blessed, yea most blessed by vertue alone. These things may be­fall: yet being added, they doe not encrease, nor being taken away doe decrease bles­sednesse: against which no time can doe any thing. That wee are to be made like to God, and that we goe to him.

I Thinke that thou and I agree of this, that externall things are gotten for the body, and that the body is reuerenced for the honour of the minde, that there bee seruile parts in the minde, whereby wee bee mooued and nourished, giuen vnto vs for that principall thing. In this principall there is somewhat that is vnreasonable and reasonable. That serueth to this. This is one thing, that is not referred vnto any besides: but it carrieth all things vnto it selfe. For also that diuine reason is set ouer all things, it selfe is vnder none. And also this of ours is the same, because it is from it. If we agree amongst our selues concerning this, it followeth also that we agree concerning that, that bles­sed life is placed in this one thing, that reason may be perfect in vs. For this a­lone submitteth not the minde, it standeth against Fortune. In euery habit of things, it being preserued, preserueth. But that is the onely good, which is ne­uer broken off. He, I say, is blessed, whom nothing maketh lesser; he holdeth the chiefe, and leaneth not indeed vpon any thing, saue vpon himselfe, For he may fall, who is sustained by the helpe of another. If it be otherwise, those things that be not ours shall begin to preuaile much in vs. But who shall stand by Fortune, or what wise-man admireth himselfe for those things that bee o­thers? What is blessed life? securitie and perpetuall tranquillitie. The great­nesse of the minde will giue this, and a firme constancie of a thing well iudged of. But how come we to this? If all veritie be throughly looked vpon; if an order, manner, comlinesse, and an hurtlesse will, or that wich is bountifull, and bent to reason, and neuer departing from it, being both louely, and to be ad­mired, be preserued in the doing of things. Lastly, that I may briefely write the forme vnto thee, such ought the minde of a wise-man to bee, as may be­come a god. What can he desire, to whom all honest things doe befall? For if things that be not honest, can conferre any thing to the best estate, blessed life shall be in those things, without which it is not. And what is more foolish or more dishonest, then to tie the good of a reasonable soule vnto vnreasonable things? Notwithstanding, some iudge the chiefest good to be encreased, be­cause it is scarcefull, casuall things resisting it. Antipater also amongst the great Authors of this sect, saith, that himselfe giueth somewhat to externall things, but very little. But thou seest what manner of thing it is, not to be contented with day-light, except some pettie fire shined vnto vs. What moment in this clearenesse of the Sunne can a sparke of fire haue? If thou art not contented with honestie alone [...] it is needfull that thou wilt haue quiet to be added there­unto, which the Grecians call hesychian, or pleasure. The one of these things [Page 385] howsoeuer may be receiued. For the minde is voide of trouble, being free to the beholding of the vniuerse, and nothing calleth it away from the contem­plation of Nature. That other thing, namely, pleasure is the good of a beast. We adde an vnreasonable thing to that which is reasonable, a dishonest thing to that which is honest. Doth the tickling of the body cause a happy life? Why therefore doubt ye to say, that a man is well, if his taste be well? And numbrest thou him, I doe not say, amongst men, but amongst mankinde, whose chiefest good consisteth of tastes, and colours, and sounds? Let that creature which is borne to eate, onely depart from that most beautifull number of liuing crea­tures, and next vnto the gods, and let him be numbred with brute beasts. The vnreasonable part of the minde hath two parts: the one couragious, ambitious, vnbridled, placed in the affections: the other base, languishing, giuen vnto plea­sures. They haue left that vnbridled, but better, certainely more valiant and more worthie a man: and haue thought this feeble and abiect to be necessarie to a blessed life. They haue commanded reason to serue this, and haue made that which is demisse and ignoble, to be the good of a most generous creature. Fur­thermore, it is mixed, and monstrous, and framed of the diuers agreeing mem­bers of liuing creatures. For as our Virgil saith of Sylla:

A womans face and virgins breasts most faire
Vntill her middle-part: after she bare
Fish-like, a bodie vast with Dolphines tailes,
And many a woluish paunch with her she trailes.

But although that fierce, horrible, and swift liuing creatures are ioyned to this Sylla, yet of what monsters haue these men compounded wisdome? The first part of a man is vertue it selfe; the brittle and fading flesh, and apt onely to re­ceiue meates, as Posidonius saith, is committed vnto this. That diuine vertue endeth in a mutable thing; and a sluggish and decaying liuing creature is ad­ioyned to the higher, venerable, and heauenly parts thereof. That rest how quiet soeuer gaue of it selfe nothing indeed to the minde, but remoued impe­diments. Pleasure of it owne accord dissolueth and mollifieth all strength. What so disagreeing coniunction of bodies amongst themselues shall bee found? A most sluggish thing is adioyned to that which is most valiant; scarce serious things to that which is most seuere, euen a distemperate and confused thing to that which is most holy. What therefore, saith he, if good health, and quiet, and a wanting of griefes shall no wayes hinder vertue, wilt thou not seeke for those things? What else but that I should seeke? Not because they be good, but because they be according to nature, and because with good iudgement they be taken by me. What good then shall there be in them? this one, to bee chosen well. For when I take such a garment as is meete, when I walke as is re­quisite; when I sup as I ought: not the supper, or walking, or apparell are good things, but my purpose in these of keeping a meane agreeable vnto reason in e­uery thing. Yea now I will adde, the choice of neat apparell is to bee desired by a man. For man is by nature a neat and an elegant liuing creature. There­fore neat apparrell is not a good thing by it selfe, but the choice of neat appar­rell; because it is not good in the thing, but in the choice: because our actions be honest, not those things that are acted. That which I haue spoken of appar­rell, suppose that I haue spoken the same concerning the bodie. For Nature hath also compassed the minde with this, as a certaine apparrell, it is the cloa­thing [Page 386] thereof. But who at any time hath esteemed his apparrell by a chest? A sheath maketh the sword to be neither good nor bad. I also do answere thee the same concerning the bodie: I would take indeed, if choise be giuen, both health and strength. But my iudgment concerning them, and not they themselues, shal be that which is good. A wise-man is blessed indeed, saith hee; notwithstan­ding, he obtaineth not that chiefest good, except also that naturall instruments be correspondent vnto him. Thus wretched indeed he cannot be, who hath vertue: but he is not most blessed, who is forsaken of naturall good things, as of health, and of soundnesse of members. Thou grantest that which seemeth more incredible, that one is not miserable in the greatest and in continuall dolors, yea also that he is blessed: thou deniest that which is more light, that hee is most blessed. But if vertue can cause that a man bee not miserable, it will more easily cause that he be most blessed. For lesse distance remaineth from blessed to most blessed, then from miserable to blessed. Or what thing preuaileth so much, that it may place him amongst the blessed, who is taken from calamities: can it not adde that which remaineth, to make him most blessed? Faileth it in the highest top? Commodities and discommodities are in life; both are without vs. If a good man be not miserable, although he be pressed with all discommodities; how is he not most blessed, although he be destitute of some commodities? For [...]u [...]n as he is not depressed with a burthen of discommodities, to be euen a mi­serable man; so is he not led with want of commodities, from being a most bles­s [...]d man. But as well he is most blessed without commodities, as he is not mise­rable by discommodities. Cannot his good be taken from him, if it can be di­minished? A little before I said, that a small fire helpeth not the light of the Sunne. For whatsoeuer shineth without it, is hid with the clearnesse thereof. But certaine things, saith he, doe also hinder the Sunne. But the force and the light of the Sunne is whole, euen amongst opposite things: and although somewhat may lie betweene, which may hinder vs from the sight of it, yet is it in worke, and is carried in his owne course. So often as it hath shined amongst the clouds, it is no lesse, nor slow indeede, then when it shineth bright, because there is great difference, whether that somewhat doe only stand against or hin­der. After the same sort opposite things detract nothing from vertue. It is not lesse, but shineth lesse: peraduenture it so appeareth not, nor shineth vnto vs: it is the same vnto it selfe, and after the fashion of the obscured Sunne, doth in secret exercise her force. Therefore calamities, and losses, and iniuries, can doe this against vertue, that a small cloud can doe against the Sunne. There is found, who saith, that a wise-man hauing scarce good health, is neither mi­serable nor blessed. Hee also is deceiued; for hee matcheth casuall things with vertues, and giueth so much to honest things, as to things wanting hone­stie. But what is more filthie, what is more vnworthie, then to compare vene­rable things with those that are base? For faith, iustice, pietie, fortitude, pru­dence, are venerable things: on the contrarie [...] those bee vile, which doe be­fall more full to the most base, namely, a sound thigh, and arme, and teeth, and the health and strength of these. Againe, if a wise man who hath a disea­sed body, shall bee accounted neither miserable nor blessed, but shall bee left in the middest: his life also shall neither bee to bee desired nor to be fled from. But what is so absurde, as that a wise mans life should not bee desired? and what is so without credit, as that there is a life which is not to be de­sired, or to be fledde from? Then if the losses of the bodie doe not make miserable, they suffer to bee blessed. For they vvhich haue not povver of [Page 387] translating into a worser estate, haue not power indeede of hindering the best estate. We know, saith he, that somewhat is hot, and somewhat cold: and that luke-warme is betwixt them both. So one is blessed, and another mise­rable; another neyther miserable nor blessed. I will diligently search this Image that is set against vs. If I shall put more cold into that luke-warme, it will bee made cold: if I shall power on more warme, it shall at last bee made warme. But how much soeuer I shall adde to the miseries of this man, who is neither miserable nor blessed, hee shall not bee miserable, as yee say, there­fore this similitude is vnlike. Then I deliuer to thee a man neyther miserable nor blessed: I adde blindenesse to him, he is not made miserable: I adde weak­nesse, hee is not made miserable: I adde continuall and grieuous dolours, hee is not made miserable. Whom so many euils translate not into a miserable life, they doe not indeede leade him from a blessed life. If a wise-man, as yee say, cannot fall from being blessed, to bee miserable, hee cannot fall into not blessed. For why should hee, who hath begunne to slide, s [...]ay any where? That thing which suffered him not to bee rolled to the bottome, keepeth him in the toppe. But why cannot a blessed life be vndone? indeede it cannot be lessened; and therefore vertue it selfe, by it selfe, is sufficient vnto it. What therefore, saith hee, is not a wise-man more blessed, who hath liued longer, whom no dolour hath called away: then hee who oftentimes hath wrastled with bad successe? Answere mee: Is hee not both better and honester? If these things bee not, hee is not more blessed indeede. It is meete that hee liue more rightly, that hee may liue more blessedly: if hee cannot liue more right­ly, hee cannot liue more blessedly indeede. Vertue is not augmented: there­fore not a blessed life indeede which is from vertue. For vertue is so great a good thing, that it feeleth not these small additions, namely, shortnesse of life, and dolour, and diuers discommodities of the bodie. For pleasure is not worthie, to which it may haue respect. What is the chiefest in vertue? Not to neede a future thing, nor to reckon his dayes. In whatsoeuer time yee will, eternall good maketh absolutely perfect. These things seeme incredible vnto vs, and running out aboue humane nature. For we measure the maiestie thereof by our weakenesse, and wee put the name of vertue vpon our vices. What furthermore, seemeth it not alike incredible, that one being placed in greatest torments, should say, I am blessed? But this voice is heard in the ve­rie shoppe of pleasure: I liue, saith EPICVRVS, this most blessed and last day: when on the one side difficultie of making water tormented him, and on the other side an incurable dolour of an exulcerated belly tormented him. Why therefore are these things incredible with them, who embrace vertue: sith al­so they are found amongst them, ouer whom pleasure ruleth? These dege­nerate also and of a most base minde say, that a wise-man shall not be misera­ble, nor blessed, in greatest dolours, in greatest calamities. But this also is incre­dible, yea more incredible. For I see not, how vertue being cast from her owne height, how it may not bee driuen into the lowest. It eyther ought to make blessed; or if it be driuen from this, it shall not forbid to be made wret­ched. He that standeth cannot be ouercome: it is requisite that eyther hee be ouercomne, or ouercome. Both vertue and blessed life befalleth to the immor­tall gods alone: a certain shadow and similitude of those good things be vnto vs. We come to those things, we attaine them not. But reason is common to gods and men: this is consummated in them, it is consummable in vs. But our vices draw vs to despaire. For that other second man, as one scarce constant to keepe [Page 388] the best things, whose iudgement as yet slideth and is uncertaine, desireth the sense of the eyes and of the eares, good health, and no ill-fauoured aspect of the body, and abiding in his fashion, and furthermore, a longer space of life. By this he may bee busied in things not to bee repented of, according as an vnperfect man may. There is a certaine force in this badnesse, whereby it maketh the minde prone to bad things: he worketh wanting badnesse, and that working is different from that which is good. As yet he is not good, but is fashioned for good: but whosoeuer wanteth any good thing, is bad.

If present vertue and a minde
In any man thou shalt forth finde;

He matcheth the gods, he striueth thither being mindefull of his originall. No man doth wickedly endeuour to ascend thither, whence he had descended. But what is it, why thou esteemest not, that there is some diuine thing in him, who is a part of God? All this wherein we are contained, both is one thing, and is God: and we are the fellowes and the members of him. Our minde is capable; it is carried thither, if vices presse it not downe. As the shape of our bodies is lifted vp, and looketh towards heauen: so the soule, to which so much as it will, it is lawfull to be stretched forth, is fashioned for this by nature, to will things equall to the gods, and so to vse her strength, and to extend her selfe into her owne space. For if it endeuoured to the highest by force of another, it were great labour, to goe into heauen: it returneth, when it hath gon this iourney, it goeth boldly, and is a contemner of all things, neither hath it respect to mony: gold and siluer are most worthy of that darkenesse wherein they haue lien, it esteemeth not this glittering, wherewith they strike the eyes of the vnskilfull: it knoweth that they be digged out of the mud, from the which our couetous­nesse hath separated and digged them vp. It knoweth, I say, that riches are seated some where else, then where they are heaped vp; the minde, not the chest ought to be filled. One may set this ouer the rule of all things, one may bring this into the possession of nature, as being his owne. Let the East and We [...]t be his limit, and let him possesse all things after the manner of the gods; let him from aboue despise rich men with their riches: of whom none is so ioy­full in his owne, as sorrowfull at another mans. When he hath lifted vp him­selfe into this loftinesse, he is also not a louer, but a manager of the bodie, as of a necessarie burthen: neither subiecteth he himselfe to that, ouer which hee is set. No man is free who serueth the bodie: for to passe by other masters, whom too great care for it hath found forth, the command of it is austere and delicate. Sometime it departeth from this with an vpright minde, sometime it breaketh from it with a great minde; neither seeketh it what end there shall be afterwards to the remainders thereof. But as wee neglect the haires tha [...] be shauen from the beard; so that diuine minde being to depart out of a man, iudgeth that it no more pertaineth to himselfe, how his receptacle be bestowed, whether the fire burne it vp, or the beasts pluck it asunder, or the earth couer it, no more then the secondines pertaine to an infant new borne. Whether when it is cast out, the birds carry it asunder, or it be consumed.

When cast it is away
To Sea-dogges for a pray,

What is it to him? Who then also whilest he is amongst men, feareth no threats: [Page 389] shall he after death feare any threats of them, whom we scarce ought to feare vntill death? The hooke, saith he, shall not teare me, nor the rending of my dead carcasse cast out to reproach, although loathsome to them that shall look on. I request no man for a last duetie: I commend my reliques to no man. Na­ture it selfe hath prouided that no man should be vnburied. Whom crueltie hath cast forth, the day shall burie. Mecaenas saith eloquently:

I care not for a Tombe or any Graue,
To bury my remaines Nature will craue.

Thou wouldest haue thought that one girded like a man had spoken it: for he had both a great and a manly wit, except he himselfe effeminately had mana­ged it.

EPIST. XCIII.

Concerning the death of the Philosopher METRONACTES, who died a young man. That is of small regard: also life is to be measured, not by space, but by act. Euerie good life is that which is long: lastly, nothing here is long.

IN the Epistle wherein thou bewailedst the death of Metronactes the Philosopher, as though he might & ought to haue liued lon­ger, I haue desired thy equitie, which is abundant in thee to euery person and in euery businesse, but faileth in one thing, wherein it faileth all men. I haue found many vpright towards men, but none towards the gods. We daily chide destinie: why was he taken away in the middest of his course? Why is not he snatched away? Why extendeth it olde age grieuous both to himselfe and to others? Whether I pray thee, iudg­est thou it to be more fit, that thou obey nature, or that nature obey thee? But what difference is there how speedily thou depart, whence likewise thou must depart. We must not care to liue long, but to liue enough. For there is neede of destinie, that thou mayest liue long; that thou may [...]st liue enough, there is neede onely of the minde. Life is long if it be full: but it is filled, when the soule hath restored his owne good vnto himselfe, and hath translated the po­wer of it selfe to it selfe. What doe fourescore yeares spent in sloath helpe him? This man liued not, but made an abode in life; neyther lately, but long agoe did he die. He liued fourescore yeares. The difference is from what day thou accountest his death. But he died young; yet hee performed the dueties of a good citizen, of a good friend, of a good sonne: he failed in no part: although his age were imperfect, his life was perfect. He liued fourescore yeares: yea, rather he was fourescore yeares; except p [...]raduenture thou sayest him to haue liued so, as trees are said to liue. I desire thee my Lucilius, that we endeuour this, that euen as pretious things, so our life may not lie much open, but may be worth much. Let vs measure it by the actions, not by time. Wilt thou knowe what difference there is betweene this couragious man, and contemner of for­tune [...] who hath gone through all the degrees of humane life, and is promoted vnto the highest good, and him ouer whom many yeares haue passed? The one is also after death the other perished before death. Therefore let vs praise and place him in the number of the happy, to whom how little time soeuer hath [Page 390] happened, it is bestowed well. For he hath seene true light, he hath not beene one of the ordinary sort; he liueth, and hath liued, and hath flourished. Some­time he hath vsed prosperous successe: sometime, as it commeth to passe, the brightnesse of a strong Planet hath shined through the cloudes. Why seekest thou, how long he hath liued? He liued euen vntill posteritie: he passed away, and gaue himselfe to the memory of ages to come. Neyther therefore haue I refused that many yeares should befall vnto me. But yet will I not say, that a­ny thing hath beene wanting to a blessed life, if the space thereof be cut off. For I haue not fitted my selfe vnto that day, which greedy hope hath promised to be the last vnto me: but I haue looked vpon euery one as being my last. Why askest thou me, when I was borne? Am I as yet reckoned amongst those that be more young? I haue that which is mine owne. Euen as in a lesser habite of bo­die, one may be a perfect man: so in a lesser measure of time, there may be a per­fect life. Age is amongst externall things. So long as I am, it is anothers time: so long as I am a good man, it is mine owne time. Exact this of me, lest as it were in darkenesse I measure out an vnnoble age; that I may leade a life, not that I may be carried through it. Seekest thou what is the largest space of life? To liue euen vnto wisdome: He that commeth vnto that, hath touched, not the longest but the greatest end. But let him glorie, and giue thankes vnto the gods; and amongst them, let him impute it to himselfe, and to the nature of things, that he hath beene. Deseruedly shall he ascribe it: for he hath retur­ned a better life then he receiued. He hath set downe the patterne of a good man: he hath shewed what an one and how great he was: if he had added any thing, it had beene like vnto that which was past. And notwithstanding how long doe we liue? We enioy the knowledge of all things. We know from what things the principall Nature lifteth vp it selfe on high, how it ordereth the world, by what courses it recalleth the year, how it hath shut vp al things which were at any time, and hath made it selfe the end of it selfe. We know that the starres goe by their owne force: that nothing but the earth standeth still: that other things with a continuall swiftnesse runne on. We know how the Moone passeth by the Sunne: wherefore being more slow, she leaueth the swifter be­hinde her: how it receiueth or loseth light: what cause bringeth on the night, what bringeth backe the day. Thither must we goe, where thou mayest be­holde these things neerer vnto thee: neither, saith that wise-man, do I the more valiantly depart, because I iudge a way to lie open for me vnto the gods. I haue deserued indeed to be admitted, and now haue I beene amongst them: and I haue sent my minde vnto that place, and they haue sent theirs vnto me. But suppose that I be taken away, and that nothing of a man remaineth after death: I haue alike as great a minde, although I depart to passe into no place. He liued not so many yeares as he might haue done. Also it is a booke of a few verses, but to be praised and profitable indeed: thou knowest the Chronicle of Tamu­sius, that it is not fashionable, and what it is called: alike is the long life of certain men, and that which followeth the Chronicle of Tamusius. What iudgest thou him to be more happy, who is slain in the last day of the show of Gladiators, then he who is slaine in the midst of the dayes? What thinkest thou that any one is so desirous of life, that he had rather haue his throate cut in the vntiring house, then on the Theater? No greater space doe we one goe before another. Death goeth through all; he that killeth, followeth him close who is killed. That is the small [...]st thing, concerning which men doe most carefully deale. But what pertaineth it to the purpose how long thou auoydest, that which thou canst not auo [...]de?

EPIST. XCIIII.

A discourse, whether the Teaching or Exhorting part of Philosophy be more profita­ble? and whether the one can suffice without the other? ARISTO preferreth the former, and admitteth it alone: and his arguments be here. And other adioyne the other part, and shew the great vses thereof; and SENECA distinguisheth finely, wit­tily, and fruitfully. Reade and delight.

SOme haue receiued that part of Philosophie alone, which giueth proper precepts to euery person, but frameth not the whole man, perswading the husband how to carrie himselfe towards his wife; the father how to bring vp children; the master how to gouerne seruants: and haue left the other as wandring without our pro­fite: as though any one could in part perswade, except first he had comprehen­ded the summe of vniuersall life. But Aristo a Stoicke, on the contrary estee­meth this to be a light part, and which descendeth not euen vnto the breast: but that which hath not precepts, he saith, that it profiteth very much; and that the decrees themselues of Philosophie, are the constitution of the chiefest good, which he that hath vnderstood and learned well, himselfe commandeth him­selfe, what is to be done on eyther part. Euen as he who learneth to cast a Dart, taketh a fit place, and frameth his hand for the direction of those things which he deliuereth; when he hath gotten this force by instruction and exercise, he vseth it at whatsoeuer he will; for he hath learned not to hit this or that, but whatsoeuer he will: so he who hath instructed himselfe for his whole life, desi­reth not particularly to be admonished, hee being taught for the whole; not how to liue with a wife or with a sonne, but how he may liue well: in this also it is how he may liue with his wife and children. Cleanthes iudgeth this part al­so to be profitable indeede, but weake except it flowed from the whole, except one knew the very decrees and heads of Philosophie. Therefore this place is diuided into two questions; Whether it be profitable or vnprofitable, and whe­ther it alone can make a good man, that is, whether it be superfluous, or can make all things else superfluous. They who would haue this part to be thought superfluous, say thus: If any thing set against the eyes hindereth the sight, it is to be remoued; but that not being cast away he hath lost his labour, who hath giuen instructions: thus thou shalt walke, thither shalt thou stretch out thine hand; after the same manner, when any thing blindeth the minde, and hinde­reth it from discerning the order of dueties, he dot [...] nothing who deliuereth precepts: thus shalt thou liue with thy father, thus with thy wife. For precepts will profite nothing, so long as error is spread before the minde: if that be dri­uen away, it will appear [...] what is due to euery duetie. Otherwise thou teach­est him what a sound man must doe, thou makest him not sound. Thou shewest to him that is poore, how to play the rich man: but how can this be done, if so be that pouertie remaine? Thou shewest to him that is hungry, what he may do as a man being full: rather take away hunger, which is fastned to the inward parts. The same will I say vnto thee concerning all vices; the things themselues are to be remoued away; we are not to command that which cannot be done, whilst they do remain. Except thou shalt expell false opinions, that we be trou­bled withall; neyther will a couetous man heare how he must vse money, nor a fearefull man how he may contemne dangers. It is requisite that thou make [Page 392] him know that money is neyther good nor bad: that thou shew vnto him most miserable rich men: that thou cause, that whatsoeuer we haue feared in pub­lique, he may know that it is not so to be feared, as fame relateth it is: no not dolour nor death: that it is a great comfort often in death, which the law con­straineth vs to suffer, because it returneth to no man: obstinacie of minde shall be for a remedie in griefe: he that suffered any thing resolutely, maketh it to be lighter vnto himselfe: that the nature of griefe is the best, because neyther that which is extended can be great; nor that which is great can be extended: that al things are to be valiantly receiued, which the necessitie of the world com­mandeth vs. When thou hast brought him by these decrees vnto the sight of his owne condition, and he shall know that a blessed life is, not which is accor­ding to pleasure, but according to nature: when he shall altogether loue vertue, the onely good of a man, and shall flie from dishonestie as that which is onely bad, he shall know that all other things, namely, riches, honours, good health, strength, empire be in the middle part, and are neyther to be numbred amongst the good, nor reckoned amongst the euill. He shall neede no instructor to say vnto him, walke thus, sup after this manner; this becommeth a man, that a wo­man; this a married man, that a batchelor. For these things which they so di­ligently prescribe, they themselues cannot do. These things doth the School­master teach his scholler, the grand-mother her nephew; and the cholericke master argues that a man must not be angry. If thou enter into the schooles, thou shalt finde that children are taught all that for their lesson, which Philoso­phers boast of with such loftie lookes. Finally, whether wilt thou propose such things as are manifest, or such as are doubtfull? Those things that are euident neede not to be taught, and he that teacheth such things as are doubtfull, is hardly beleeued. It is therefore a superfluous thing to teach. This learne thus: If thou proposest things that are obscure and ambiguous, thou must confirme them by proofes. If thou wilt proue them, those things by which thou prouest are more auaileable, and are sufficient enough of themselues. Thus vse thy friend, thus thy fellow Cittizen, thus thy companion. Why? Because it is iust. All these things the common place as touching iustice, will furnish me with. There finde I that equity is a thing to be desired of it selfe, that feare cannot compell vs thereunto, and that for gaine we will not respect it: briefly, that he is not iust and vpright who approueth any thing in this vertue, but the vertue it selfe. When as I haue perswaded my selfe of these things, and learned it per­fectly, what doe these precepts profite me, which instruct the learned man? To giue precepts to a wise-man is a superfluous trauaile, to an ignorant man it suffi­ceth not. For he must heare not onely what is taught him, but why it is taught him: that is to say, whether they be necessarie to him that hath true opinions as touching goods and euils, or to him that hath not: hee that hath them not, will be no wayes profited by thee, for a common report contrary to thy admo­nitions hath filled and possessed his eares. He that hath an exact iudgement of that he ought to flie and follow, knoweth that which he ought to doe, although thou be silent. All this part of Philosophie therefore may be cut off. There are in vs two euils, which make vs commit others. Eyther in our mindes is there a mallice contracted by euill opinions; or although it be not occupied with falsi­ties, yet is it inclined vnto error, and is quickly corrupted by some vaine appear­ance, which draweth him thither whether he should not pretend. It behoueth vs therefore eyther to cure the sicke minde, and to deliuer it from vices, or that it be not as yet infected, but inclined vnto euill, to preuent it. The decrees of [Page 393] Philosophie doe both the one and the other. Therefore such a kinde of tea­ching doth nothing. Furthermore, if we giue instructions to all in particular: we should neuer make an end. For we must in [...]truct the Vsurer one way, the Hus­bandman another way, the Merchant thus, him that affected the friendship of Princes, otherwise: thu [...], those that should loue their equals: that way, such as affect their inferiours. In matrimony they must teach how a man must liue with a wife, whom he maried a maid; how with her that had a husband before, how with a rich, how with a poore one. Thinkest thou there is no difference betwixt a barren and a fruitfull woman, betweene an old, and a yong maiden, betwixt a mother, and a stepdame? we cannot comprehend all kindes; and yet euery one of them requireth seuerall lessons and aduertisements. But the lawes of Philosophie are short, and containe and write all things. Adde here­unto that a wise-mans precepts ought to be limited and certaine; if they are found to bee infinite, they are out of the limits of Philosophie, wisedome knoweth what the bounds of all things should be. This part therefore which proposeth things in particular ought to be remoued, because that what she pro­miseth to performe to a few, she cannot performe to all. Contrariwise wisdome embraceth and containeth all men. There is little difference betweene pub­like madnesse, and that which the Phisitians describe, but that the particular is possessed with a certaine sicknesse, the publike is besotted with false opinions: the one hath drawne the causes of his furie from the indisposition of the body, the other from the infirmities of the minde. If a man should giue precepts to a furious man, and teach him how to speake, how to walke out, how to behaue himselfe in publike, how in priuate, he should be more mad, then the mad man he teacheth. He must purge the melancholy humor, and the cause of furie must be remoued. The like must be done in this other furie of the minde; it must be discussed and driuen away, otherwise all aduertisement will bee to no end. These things are spoken by Ariston. To whom we will answere in particular. First to that where he saith, that if any thing hindereth the eye and letteth the sight, it ought to be remoued. I confesse that he hath no neede of precepts to make him see, but of medicines to purge his sight, and meanes to driue away that which blemisheth the same. For by nature we see, and he that taketh away the obstacles, he returneth the eye to his sight. But Nature teacheth not a par­ticular dutie to euery one. Secondly, he that is cured of his suffusion, cannot as soone as he hath recouered his sight, giue sight to other men likewise. He that is rid of an infirmitie recureth also. The eye needeth neyther exhortation nor counsell to vnderstand the proprieties of colours, it will distinguish white from blacke without any teacher. Contrariwise, the minde needeth many precepts to discerne what is to be done in life. Albeit the Phisitian not only cureth the infirme eye, but counselleth also. Thou must not (saith he) expose thy weake eye-sight suddenly to the open aire and brighter light, first from an obscure place seeke out a shadie, then be more bould, and by little and little accustome thy selfe to endure the cleare light. Thou must not studie after meat, keep thy selfe quiet where thine eyes are great and swolne. Auoide the winde and force of cold, lest it beate vpon thy face, and such like, which were no lesse profitable then the medicines were. In briefe, Physicke annexeth counsailes to remedies. Error, saith he, is the cause of sinne, which sinne counsaile acquitteth vs not of, neither conuinceth false opinions of good and euill things I grant that precepts suffice not of themselues to driue a peruerse opinion out of the vnderstanding [...] but it followeth not, that being aunexed to others, they should be vnprofitable. [Page 394] First of all, they refresh the memorie. Secondly, by their meanes, those things which in generall seemed confused, being diuided into pa [...]ts, are more diligent­ly considered. Happily thou after this manner supposest consolations and ex­hortations superfluous, but they are not; consequently not admonitions. It is a folly (saith Ariston) to command a sicke man such a thing as he should doe in his health, whereas his health is to be restored vnto him, without which all his precepts are vaine. But haue not both the sicke and whole certaine things com­mon to them both, whereof they ought to be admonished, as not to eate ouer-greedily, nor trauell excessiuely? Both poore and rich haue certaine common precepts. Cure auarice (saith he) and thou shalt haue nothing wherein thou shalt admonish either the poore or rich: if the couetousnesse both of the one and the other bee abated. Is it a different thing not to desire money, and to know well to vse it? The couetous haue no measure in their desires, they that are not couetous, know not how to make vse of money as they ought. Take away the errours (saith he) the precepts are superfluous. It is false: for suppose that auarice be mod [...]rated, dissolution restrained, rashnesse bridled, idlenesse a­wakened: although the vices are driuen away, yet ought we learne that which we ought to doe and how. The admonitions se [...]ue to no vse, being applied to enormous vices. I answere that Physicke healeth not incurable diseases, yet is it ministered to some for remedie, to othersome for mitigation: not all the whole power of Philosophie, although she intend all her forces to this end, can roote out an indurate and inueterate plague out of our mindes: and yet she re­medieth some euils, though she cureth not all. What profiteth it, saith he, to shew that which is discouered? Greatly, for sometimes although wee know a thing, yet we regard it not. Admonition teacheth not, but it awakeneth and setleth the memorie [...] and preuenteth forgetfulnesse. We take little heed of ma­ny things, which passe before our eyes. To admonish is a kinde of exhortati­on. Oftentimes our mind pretendeth not to comprehend that which is appa­rent: we ought therefore to refresh the memory with the knowledge of things best knowne. In this place it shall not be amisse to repeate the notable saying of CALVVS against VATINIVS, You know there hath beene bribing, and all men know that you know it. Thou knowest that we ought to entertaine friendship re­ligiously, but thou doest it not. Thou knowest him to be a wicked man, that requireth his wife should bee honest, and himselfe hunteth after other mens wiues. Thou knowest that as she ought not to acquaint her selfe with an adul­terer, so thou shouldest not haue to doe with a strumpet, and yet thou vsest to prostitute. For this cause oftentimes oughtest thou to call thy duetie to me­morie, for thy memorie must not be distracted, but at hand and before thine eyes. All holesome things ought to be oftentimes remembred, and renewed, to the end that besides the knowledge thereof, wee may haue them readie to assist vs. Besides that which is alreadie well comprehended, is vnderstood and remembred farre better. If those things (saith h [...]e) be doubtfull which thou teachest. Thou oughtest to adde proofe vnto them, they therefore be not the precepts will pro [...]it. I answere, that the authoritie of him that admonisheth, sufficeth without any proofe of his saying. As the answeres of the Lawyers are of force although they yeeld no reason of their counsell. Moreouer, precepts haue a great waight in themselues, especially if we intermix them with poesie, or that in prose they be shut vp together in a few, but graue words. As those of CATOES, Buy not that which thou needest, but that which is necessarie. That which thou hast no need of is deare of a farthing. And these other sentences proceeding [Page 395] from Oracles or other excellent men. Spare time. Know thy selfe. Wouldest thou aske the cause thereof, if a man should repeate thee these sentences. For­getfulnesse is the remedie of iniuries. Fortune fauoureth the audacious. The idle man hinders himselfe. These sentences seeke no aduocate, they touch the affections and profit, because Nature vnfouldeth vertue in them. Our mindes containe all the seeds of vertue, and these seeds fructifie by meanes of admonitions, no otherwise then a sparkle being assisted with a light blast, becometh a great flame: vertue is awakened, when she is either touched or shaken. Furthermore, there are certaine things, which buried in our vnderstanding, beginne to shew their worth, when they are quickened by admonitions. There are other sorts of things which lie heere and there, which a dull vnderstanding and vnexercised cannot recollect. It behoueth therefore to gather them into one, and to ioyne them together, to the end they may be more forcible, and raise the minde the more. Or if precepts haue no power, we must exterminate all institution, and be contented with Nature her selfe. They that see this, consider not that there are some that haue a stirring and noble spirit; the other of a dull and heauie. In briefe, that all are not equally, are not of one ingenuitie. The power of the minde is nourished, and encreaseth by precepts, and annexeth new perswasions to those that are innate, and correcteth those that are depraued. If any man (saith he) hath not the true decrees, what shall admonitions profit him, that is plagued and drowned in vices? Truely this, that he may be deliuered of them. For the naturall disposition is not extinguished in him, but obscured and op­pressed. In pursuite whereof she endeuoureth to raise her selfe, and to resist e­uill. As soone as she is succoured and assisted by precepts, shee receiueth her forces, prouided that this contagion of sinne, which hath so long time infected her, hath not wholly mortified her. For then the whole disciplines of Philo­sophie vniting all her forces, cannot restore her. For what difference is there be­tweene the decrees and precepts of Philosophie, but that the one are generall, the other particular. Both of them command; the decrees are generall, the precepts particular. If any one (saith hee) hath iust and honest decrees, such a one is admonished in vaine; not so. For this man, although hee know that which he ought to doe, yet seeth he not exactly all the parts of his duetie. For we are not only hindered by our affections, from executing that which is good, but for want of a knowledge how to finde out that which is requisite in euerie thing. Sometimes we haue a minde well composed, but heauie and vnaddres­sed to finde out the tract of the offices of our life, which is discouered vnto vs by admonitions. Driue away (saith he) the false opinions, as touching goods and euils, settle the true in stead of the false, and then will admonition be profi­table. Assuredly the minde is gouerned by such meanes, but not by this meanes onely. For although it be by arguments gathered, what are good, and what are euill, notwithstanding precepts haue their parts, and both Prudence and Iustice consist in offices, and offices are disposed by precepts. Furthermore, the iudge­ment that we haue of goods and euils, is con [...]irmed by the execution of o [...]fices, whereunto we are guided by precepts. For they agree together, neither may those goe before, but these will follow after, and keepe their rancke; whence it appeareth that the Generall march before. Precepts, saith he, are infinite. It is false. For they are not infinite in things that are great and necessarie, but their differences according to time, place, and persons are small. But to these like­wise are generall precepts giuen. There is no man (saith he) that cureth mad­nesse by precepts, and consequently not malice. There is a difference. For in [Page 396] curing a mad man of his madnesse, he is restored to his health. If wee haue ex­cluded false opinions, we presently apprehend not that which we ought to doe, and were it so, yet our admonition would confirme the right apprehension and iudgement we haue of goods and euils. This likewise is [...]alse, that precepts no wayes profite mad men. For as they profite not alwayes, so further they the cure. Both threatnings and chastisements haue restrained mad men: I speake now of those mad men whose wits are altered, but not taken from them. The lawes, replieth he, cause vs not to doe that which we ought. And what other thing are they, but precepts intermixed with threatnings? First of all they per­swade not, because they menace; but precepts constraine not, but perswade. Se­condly, lawes deterre vs from doing euill: precepts exhort euery one to doe his duetie. Adde hereunto, that lawes are profitable to good manners, prouided, that precepts be vnited to their commandements. In this thing differ I from Posidonius: I allow not the principles that are set in the beginning of Platoes lawes. For a law should be short, to the end that the ignorant might appre­hend it more easily, as if it were an Oracle. Let it command, not dispute. No­thing seemeth more impertinent and foolish to me, then a law garnished with a Preface. Admonish, tell me what thou wouldst haue me do; I listen not to thee to learne, but to obey. The lawes are profitable, so see wee that Common-weales, which haue had euill ordinances, haue had worse manners. But lawes pro [...]ite not all men; no more doth Philosophie, and yet it ceaseth not to be pro­ [...]itable and powerfull in forming mens minds. And what other thing is Philo­sophy but the law of our life? But let vs presuppose that the lawes are vnprofi­table, it followeth not therefore that admonitions are vnnecessary: otherwise we should say that consolations, exhortations, disswasions, reprehensions and praises, serued to no purpose. These are sorts of admonitions, & by their means the spirit attayneth his perfection. There is nothing that more reuesteth our vnderstandings with vertue, nor that retireth them more from an euill custome, and confirmeth them in goodnesse, then good mens conuersation. For by little and little it descendeth and distilleth into the heart, and to be often seene and heard, standeth in stead of precepts, vndoubtedly the onely meeting with wise-men doth great good; and thou mayest learne somewhat of a vertuous man, euen then when he is silent. I cannot so well tell thee how it profiteth, as I haue found that it profited me. Some small creatures (as Phaedon saith) when they sting are not felt, so small and ready is their stinge to giue the pricke, but the swelling is discouered although there appeare no wound in the same. The like will befall thee in thy conuersation with wise-men, thou shalt not perceiue when or how he profiteth thee, but thou shalt finde the profite. Whereto (saith he) tendeth all this? Good precepts and admonitions, oft-times reitera­ted, will profite thee as much as good examples. Pythagoras saith, that they who entred into a Temple, or that saw neere vnto them any image of the gods, or heard the voyce of some Oracle, changed their mindes and thoughts. Who dare denie, but that the most Ideots of the world are powerfully striken with some precepts? As for example, by these which ensue, which are short, but sen­tentious, and of great waight, namely, Nothing too much. The greedy minde is ne­uer satisfi [...] with gaine. Such measure as thou metest, the same shall be mete to thee. These things heare we with strong apprehension, neyther may any man doubt or dispute vpon them: Why? Because truth perswadeth without any assist­an [...]e of reason: if the respect we beare vnto any man bridleth our [...]pirits, and re­presseth our vices, why should not admonition doe the like? If correction ma­keth [Page 397] men ashamed, what should hinder the same effect in good admonition al­though it were accompanied but with simple precepts? But what admonition is more powerfull, and pierceth deeper, which fortifieth his commaundements with good reasons, that alleageth why a man should doe this or that, and what good may befall a man by his obedience? If commaundement and authoritie serue, so doth admonition; but authoritie is of great vse, and consequently ad­monition. Vertue is diuided into two parts, into contemplation of truth, and into action. Institution teacheth contemplation, admonition action. A iust a­ction both exerciseth and sheweth vertue. But if he that perswadeth profiteth him that is to act, he likewise will profite that admonisheth. If therefore vpright action be necessary to vertue, and admonition sheweth what iust actions be, it followeth that admonition is necessary. There are two things which greatly fortifie the minde, assurance of the truth, and confidence. Admonition pro­duceth both these. For there is credite giuen to the same, and when she is be­leeued, the minde conceiueth high hopes, and is filled with confidence: admo­nition therefore is not superfluous. Marcus Agrippa, a man of great vnderstan­ding, and onely happy to the publique good, amongst all those that were raised by ciuill warres, was wont to auow, that hee was very much indebted to this sentence; For by concord small things increase, by discord the greatest are ruined. This, saith he, made me become a good brother, and a sure friend. If such sen­tences familiarly entertained in the minde do forme the same, why should not this part of Philosophie which consisteth of such like sentences, doe the like? A part of vertue consisteth in discipline, another in action. Thou must learne, and that which thou hast learned thou must confirme by action: which if it be so, not onely decrees of wise-men are profitable, but also the precepts, which re­straine and oblige our affections as it were with an Edict. Philosophie, saith he, is diuided into these, into science and the habite of the minde. For he that hath comprehended any thing and knoweth that which he ought to do and auoide, is not yet wise, except his spirit be transformed into those things which he hath learned. The third part, consisting in precepts, is composed of the two prece­dent, both of decrees and of habite, and consequently superfluous to make ver­tue complete, whereas they two are sufficient. By this reckoning then consola­tion is vnnecessary, for this also consisteth of both; neyther exhortation, per­swasion, neyther argumentation. For she taketh her originall from the habite of a composed and strong minde, But although these parts proceede from that habitude of the minde, the best habite of the minde is both of the one, and of the other. Furthermore, all that which thou sayest respecteth a perfect man, and such a one as hath attained the summe of humane felicitie. But to this a man attaineth very slowly; meane while we must shew an vnperfect man, yet such a one as is toward the way which he ought to hold in his actions. It may be that wisedome may addresse her selfe without admonition, considering she hath already ledde the spirit so outward that he cannot be moued but on the right way. But as touching those that are more feeble, they had neede of a con­ductor that may say vnto them, Thou shalt shun this, thou shalt doe this. Be­sides, if he expect the time, wherein of himselfe he may know that which is best to be done, he shall in the meane space erre, and erring shall be hindred from at­tayning to that whereby he may be contented with himselfe. He must there­fore be gouerned till he begin to be able to gouerne himselfe. Children are taught to forme their letters, their fingers are held, and their hand directed, and led to teach them to fashion and counterfeit letters, then are they commanded [Page 398] to follow such and such examples, and by them to reforme their writing. So is our minde strengthned if it be instructed by proposing some example vnto it which she may follow. These are the things whereby it is approued that this part of Philosophy is not superfluous. Furthermore it is demaunded whether she alone sufficeth to make a wise-man. We will answere this question at ano­ther time: for the present, omitting those arguments, doth it not appeare vnto vs that we had neede of some aduocate, who may giue vs instructions contrary to the precepts of the people? A man cannot speake any thing that toucheth vs not. They that wish vs good hurt vs, and they also that curse vs: for the im­precation of those impresseth in vs false feares, and the loue of others spoyleth vs, in desiring our prosperitie, because it driueth vs to goods that are forraigne, wandring, and vncertaine, whereas we might draw felicity from our selues. I say that wee are not permitted to follow the right way. Our parents and ser­uants draw vs vnto euill. No man erreth to himselfe onely, but spreadeth his follie amongst his neighbours, and learneth of theirs likewise. And there­fore the vices of the common sort are in euery priuate man, because the peo­ple amongst whom he conuerseth hath giuen them him, and in making others badde he becommeth badde himselfe, hee hath learned the worse, and after­wards teacheth the same; and when that which each one knew to be most wic­ked was gathered and put together, that great heape of iniquitie was made and discouered. Let there bee therefore some guide that may pull thee by the eare, driue thee from the bruite of Citties, and reclaime thee from the flatteries of the common sort. For thou abusest thy selfe if thou thinkest that vices are borne with vs; they steale vpon vs, and were ingested into vs. Let vs therefore represse those opinions which buzze about our eares by frequent ad­monitions. Nature neither tyeth nor obligeth vs to any vice: she hath ingende­red vs intire and free: nothing that might incite our auarice hath she placed in open sight, but hath put both golde and siluer vnder our feete to be kickt and trode vpon, or whatsoeuer it be for which we are kickt and trode vpon. She hath addressed our faces towards heauen, and would that we should beholde whatsoeuer she hath made, either magnificent or wonderfull in the world, the rising and settings of the starres, the sudden course and motion of the heauens, wich by day make vs see the goods of the earth, and by night those of the hea­uens. The slow motion of the starres, if they be compared with the whole, the swift, if thou imagine how great way they make without euer staying; then the eclipses of the Sun & Moone, opposed the one against the other: moreouer, di­uers other things worthy admiration, whether they succeed by order, or break forth being moued by their causes; as the pillers of fire in the night, the flashes streaming from the opening heauen without thunder and lightning, the pillers, beams, & other diuers inflamed impressions in the aire: nature disposeth al these things aboue vs. As touching gold, siluer & iron, which by reason of both these hath depriued vs of peace, she hath hid them, as if they had bin badly cōmitted vnto vs. But we haue brought them to light, to the end we might fight for them: we casting the waighty earth frō off them, haue digged them vp, the only causes & instruments of our dangers. We haue trusted our miseries vnto fortune, ney­ther are we ashamed that they are in the greatest estimatiō with vs, which were most deeply buried in the bosom of the earth. Wilt thou see how fallatious the brightnes is that blemisheth & bewitcheth thine eyes? There is nothing more abiect, nor more obscure then these as long as they are buried in their mould. Why not? when as they are drawn out of the darknes of the largest and longest [Page 399] mynes, there is nothing more deformed then they are, whilst they are sepera­ted from their excrements, and drawn from their vaines. Briefly, regard a while those that trauell in the myne, by whose hands this [...]terrill and informed kinde of earth is purged, and you shall see how they are besmeared with smoake. But these doe more defile the mindes then the bodies, and there is more soyle in those that possesse them, then in those that refine them. It is necessary therfore to be admonished, and to haue some Counsellor of good vnderstanding, that in so great confusion and tumult of falsities, may truely speake vnto vs: what shall he speake? Those words and wholsome counsails, which may open our eares, being deafned by so many ambitious cries, and say, Thou hast no cause to e [...]uy these whom the people termeth great and happy men. There is no cause that a vaine applause should rauish from thee the setled habitude and health of thy soule. There is no reason that this great Lord, so gaily attended and clad in purple, should driue thee from the heig [...]t of thy peace. Thou hast no more cause to iudge him more happy, to whom euery man giues place, then him whom the Sergeant enforceth to giue way. If thou wilt exercise a power that may be pro­fitable vnto thee, and hurt no man, driue vice from thee. Many there are that set fire on Citties, that leuell huge Fortresses with the ground, which so many hun­dreth yeares were held impregnable, that raise Plat-formes as high as Castles, who by Engines of batterie ouerturne marueilous high wals, who cause armies to march before them, that neerely pursue their flying enemies, who couered with the bloud of conquered Nations, haue gotten countries as farre as the bounds of the Ocean; but these hauing defeated their enemies, haue themselues bin ouercome by their own desires. No man might make head against their ar­mies, no more then they knew how to resist their ambition and cruelties. Euen then when they seemed to pursue others, they were pursued themselues. The cursed desire of spoiling other mens countries afflicted vnhappy Alexander, and sent him to countries vnknown. Doest thou think him a man of vnderstanding, or in his right w [...]ts, who began to ruinate Greece, where first he was brought vp and instructed, did afterwards pillage all that which euery one possessed and e­steemed best? He imposed a yoke on Sparta, and silence to Athens. And not con­tent with the spoile of many Citties, either subdued or bought by Philip his fa­ther, he scattered them from one place to another, made war vpon al the world without remitting ought of his wonted cruelty, imitating herein the sauage beasts, who bite more then hunger enforceth them to. Furthermore, he ioyned diuers kingdomes in one, he made himselfe dreadfull to the Greeks and Persians, he subdued the free Nations that were vnder Darius his Dominion; yet would he beyond the Ocean, and the Sun being displeased that Hercules and Bacchus pillers should confine his victories. He addresseth himselfe to inforce Nature; he will not march, neyther will hee stay in a place resembling those fardel [...] which are cast from the top to the ground, which cease not to tumble down vn­till they fall to the bottom. Neyther did vertue nor reason counsaile Pompey to enterprise his forraine and ciuill warres, but a disordinate loue of flattering greatnesse droue him now into Spaine against Sertorius, then to make warre a­gainst the Pirats, and to assure the Seas. Th [...]se were his pretexts to maintaine his authoritie, who drue him into Africa, into the North, into Armenia, and through all the corners of Asia against Mithridates. It was an immeasur­rable desire of greatnesse, being in his owne opinion not great enough. What thing thrust Caesar vpon his owne and his Countreyes ruine? Glorie and ambition, and no measure of eminencie aboue others: for hee could not [Page 400] endure that one should be before him, when as his Common-wealth endured two Masters. Thinkest thou that Marius who was once Consul (for one Con­ [...]ulate he receiued, the other sixe he bribed or enforced) was egged on by ver­tue to hew the Cimbrians and Theutons in pieces, to follow Iugurth thorough the deserts of Africa, and to expose himselfe to so many perils? Marius condu­cted the Army, but ambition conducted Marius. These men, whilst they shook all others, were shaken themselues after the manner of whirle-windes, which before they winde in those things they force vp, are themselues tossed; & ther­fore turne they with greater furie, because they haue no holde of themselues: by which meanes these men, after they haue cruelly tormented others, do feele in themselues this pernicious fury, wherewith they haue offended other men. Thinke not that any man may become happy by another mans misfortune. All these examples proposed both to our eyes and eares, ought to be remem­bred, and our hearts full filled with euill opinions, ought to be clensed. Where the place is voyde there must we lodge vertue, which rooteth out pleasing lyes which seperateth vs from the people (to whom we giue ouer-much credit) and confirmeth vs in sincere and good opinions. For this is wisdome, to be conuer­ted into nature, and to be restored thither whence publique errour hath expel­led vs. It is a great part of health, to haue forsaken the counsailors of folly, and to haue far-fled from this company of people which corrupt one another. To know that this is true, consider how euery man liueth after one sort in publike, after another in priuate. Solitude of it selfe, neither teacheth vs simplicity or in­nocence; the country maketh vs not more frugall or temperate, but when there is no body that may beholde and giue testimony, vices retire themselues. For their good lieth in this to be beheld and seene. Who would put on a purple robe if no man should see him? Who being couched vnder the shadow of some ru­sticke tree, hath mustred all the people of his dissolutenesse to himselfe alone? No man is braue in secret, no not in the presence of two or three of his familiars, but according to the number and quality of those that beholde him, maketh he shew of his vanities. So then if any one, eyther know or admire vs, that is the spur that pricketh on to discouer all these things, on which we are mad and be­sotted. Take away the shew, thou shalt abolish couetousnesse. Ambition, dis­solutenesse and pride will haue themselues seene. Wilt thou recouer them? Hide them. If therefore we are lodged in the midst of Citties, let vs keep some good counsailor about vs: who opposing himselfe against those that praise great possessions, priseth a rich man very little, and that measureth his goods by their vse: against those who make reckoning of nothing but credite and humane greatnesse, let him approue and commend that [...]onest repose which the study of good letters giueth; and let him esteeme nothing so much as a conscience that hath forsaken al transitory things, to ground himselfe vpon the reall good? Let him shew that all they who are commonly called happy tremble, and are dismayed in that high degree so much enuied, and haue a farre other opinion of themselues then the people hath. For those things that are raised, & highly pri­sed in other mens eyes, in their iudgments are slippery, steepy, & vncertain. For this cause they are heartlesse and fearfull as often as they looke into this steepe mountain of mightines, wherupon they are mounted. Then suspect they those things they desired, and their felicity which hath beene so odious vnto others, is more hatefull to themselues: Then praise they a peaceable and retired life: authority is distastefull vnto them, they seeke to be discharged of their prosperi­tie; then shalt thou see them play the Philosophers for feare, and take good [Page 401] counsaile from their aduersitie. For as if prosperitie and a good minde were appointed contraries, we are most wise in our miseries, contrariwise prosperitie bereaueth vs of our iudgement.

EPIST. XCV.

It adherethor dependeth of the former, and the question is, whether the Exhortatorie part of Philosophie may alone suffice? When as especially he hath shewed so many and so cleare vses thereof. He denieth, setteth downe, and refelleth the arguments which are vrged. Therefore he praiseth the doctrinall part, and sheweth that precepts flow from that fountaine, and that life is contained therein. He intermixeth worthy things, and by the way maketh an excursion against riot, lust, and vnlawfull affection of ho­nors. The whole Epistle is excellent and fruitfull.

THou requirest me to represent that which I had remitted, till ano­ther time, and that I should write vnto thee, if that part of Phi­losophie which consisteth in precepts, which the Greekes call [...], wee preceptiue bee sufficient to make a man perfectly wise. I know thou wilt take it in good part, if I deny the same, and for that cause the rather doe I renue my promise, and will not suffer that my word so expresly and solemnly engaged should be broken. Hereafter aske me nothing which thou wilt not obtaine, for sometimes wee instantly require that, which wee would refuse if it were offered vnto vs. This, whether it bee lightnesse or familiaritie, is to bee punished with a facilitie of promising: wee seeme to will many things which we would not. A certaine Reciter brought a great historie written in a small hand, and straitly foulded, and hauing red ouer a great part thereof: I will giue ouer (saith he) if you will. To this it is answered with a loud voice. Reade on, Read on, by those who would willingly that hee should presently hold his peace. Oftentimes we will owe things, and wish an­other, and to the gods themselues wee speake not truth; but the gods either heare vs not, or haue mercie vpon vs. But I setting apart all fauour will re­deeme my selfe, and will cloy thee with a long Epistle, which if thou reade vn­willingly, say that thou thy selfe art the cause, and number thy selfe amongst those whom a wife continually tormenteth to get her selfe some new gowne daily: amongst those that haue no ioy of the goods they haue gotten with great labour: amongst those whom honour torments, being gotten by all in­dustrie and labour, and the rest who are partakers of their owne euils. But lea­uing this Preface, I come to the point. A blessed life (say they) consisteth of iust actions, whereunto we are led by precepts, consequently precepts are suf [...]ficient to make the life happie. Yet precepts doe not alwayes lead a man to iust actions, but when as the minde is capable and conformable to instructions. Sometimes they are proposed in vaine, to wit, when the vnderstanding is be­sieged with false opinions. Againe, although they doe right, yet know they not that they doe right. For no man can performe that which he ought euerie way, nor vnderstand when hee ought to doe a thing, nor how much, nor with whom, nor how, if from the beginning he hath not beene addressed and fashio­ned exactly in all reason. By meanes whereof he cannot with his whole minde constantly and willingly endeuour vnto vertue, but shall be doubtfull and look backe. If an honest action (say they) proceedeth from precepts precepts shall [Page 402] sufficiently suffice to make the life happie, but the one is true, consequently, therefore so is the other. To these we answere, that honest actions proceed not onely from precepts and particular instructions, but also from maximes and ge­nerall rules. If other artes (saith he) are content with precepts, wisdome also will be contented, which is the art of life, but he maketh a master of a ship that instructeth him thus. Steere after this manner, strike saile after this fashion, take the benefit of a good winde thus, resist a contrarie that way, and make vse of such a meanes to warrantise thee from a crosse winde. Precepts likewise confirme other sorts of Artists. Cannot therefore Philosophers teach others to liue; cannot they doe the like? All these arts are employed about the instru­ments of life, not about the whole life, and therefore many things hinder and let them externally, such as are hope, couetousnesse, and feare. But Wisdome the mistris of life cannot be hindered by any thing from continuing her exer­cise, for shee preuenteth impediments, and temperateth obstacles. Wilt thou know wherein they differ in condition? In mechanique arts it is more excusa­ble to sinne for want of aduice, then casually, and in wisdome it is a great fault to sinne willingly. That which I say is so. The Grammarian is not ashamed of a Solecisme, if he make it willingly, but he blusheth if he doe it without taking he [...]d. If the Physitian foreseeth not that his patient begins to weare away, he committeth more error in his art, then if he perceiued the defect, and preten­ded not to know it. But in the art of good life, more shamefull is their fault, who offend willingly. Adde hereunto that the most kinde of arts, yea of them all the most liberall haue not only their precepts, but decrees, as Physicke hath. There is therefore one sect of Hippocrates, another of As [...]lepiades, another of Themison. Besides no contemplatiue art is without her decrees, which the Greekes call [...], wee precepts: propositions and foundations, which you shall finde in Geometrie and Astronomie. But Philosophie is both contempla­tiue and actiue, she speculateth and setteth hand to the worke. For thou errest, if thou thinkest that she only promiseth terrestriall actions, she aspireth more high. I s [...]arch (saith shee) the whole world, neither containe I my selfe inclo­sed in the company of mortall men, to the onely end to perswade or disswade. Great matters, such as are aboue your reach call and inuite me.

For first I will disclose and let thee know
The secrets of the heau'ns and higher powers,
Whence Nature formes, and whence she makes things grow,
Whence they encrease, and spread their seeds and flowers,
Ile count thee all their of-springs and their ends,
And what in each thing Nature most intends.

As Lucretius saith. [...]. 1. de Natu­ [...]a [...]rum. It followeth therefore that being contemplatine, shee hath her decrees. In effect no man shall euer performe that which he ought, but he that hath comprehended the reason whereby in euery thing he may performe his decrees in all offices; which hee shall not obserue who hath receiued but meere precepts. Those things that are distributed by parcels are feeble in them­selues, and if I may so say, without roote. Those are decrees which defend vs, which maintaine our securitie and tranquillitie, which comprehend at once all life and all nature. The same difference is there betweene the decrees and pre­cepts of Philosophie, as there is betweene letters and whole clauses. The one depend vpon the other, decrees also are the cause of precepts and of all things. [Page 403] The ancient wisdome, saith he, onely taught nought else, but what was to be done, and to be esteemed. And then were men farre better, after learned men began to flourish, good men were scant. For that simple and open truth is chan­ged into an obscure and subtill science, and we are taught how to dispute, not how to liue. Without doubt, that ancient wisdome, as you say, was rude and simple in the beginning, no lesse then other arts which haue beene polished by succession of time. But at that time also the present remedies were not neces­sarie, wickednesse was not growne to that height, neither had shee spread her self so largely euery where; simple remedies were sufficient for simple vices. But now the more strange the mischifes are which assault vs, the more solide should our resist and defences be. Physicke in times past was but the knowledge of a few Simples, whereby a flux of blood might be stayed, and wounds by little and little might be healed. Afterwards shee attained to this raritie of medicines: neither is it to be wondered at, that in those dayes she had so little to doe; sure then men had more stronge bodies, and were contented with easie and simple diet, and not corrupted by art and pleasure. Which diet, after it beganne to be sought, not to take away, but prouoke hunger; and a thousand sorts of sauces were inuented, whereby the appetite might be awakened. Those meats which sustained such men as were hungrie, are become as many burthens to full bel­lies. From thence proceeded palenesse, and the trembling of the nerues, be­ing drowned in wine, and a more miserable leanenesse caused rather by crudi­ties, then by hunger. From this excesse hath proceeded the weaknes and slum­bling of the feete, and such a kinde of gate as drunken men vse. Thence grew the water betwixt the filme and flesh, thence was the belly discended, whilest it was accustomed to receiue more then it could containe. Thence came the blacke Ianders, the discoloured face, and the consumption of such as rotted in­wardly. Thence crooked fingers, by reason of the stifnes of the ioynts, hence the Apoplexie, hence the Palsey: why should I reckon vp the swimming and turning of the head, the torments both of eyes and eares, and the vermination of the inflamed braine; and all the passages of our bodies, whereby wee are purged, affected with inward vlcers. Besides an innumerable sort of Feuours, the one violent and sudden, the other lent and lingring, the other beginning with much horror and shaking of the members? why should I rip vp other in­numerable diseases, the iust plagues of intemperance? Free were they from those euils, who as yet were not weakened by these delicates, who gouerned and ministred vnto themselues. They hardened their bodies with industry and true labour, either wearied with running, or hunting, or plowing of their lands; and their meat was such as could not please any but such as were hungry. There was therefore no need of so great a multitude of Physitians, neither of so ma­ny instruments and subnotaries. There health being entertained by a simple cause, was simple also: many dishes haue bred many sicknesses. Behold how many things gormundize the ruine both of land and sea, intermixeth together to the end they might afterwards be swallowed by one greedie gullet. It can­not be, but that things so diuers should striue one with another, and after they are swallowed downe, should hardly be disgested, by reason that the one is a hinderance to the other. It is no maruell, if of meats so different, such confu­sed and violent sicknesses are engendred, nor that the humours being driuen by contrary passages, should redound as they doe. See heere the cause why we haue so many different sorts of sicknesses, as of meats. The greatest of the Phy­sitians, and the Founder of the Science, saith, that women are neither bauld nor [Page 404] sicke of the gout, yet they at this day are both destitute of haire and lame in their feet. The nature of women is not changed, but the life. For whereas they haue equalled men in their licentiousnes, they haue likewise had an equall part in their maladies. They watch no lesse, they drinke no lesse, and challenge their husbands in bathing and drunkennesse. Both the one and the other ha­uing, as it were, by force filled their panches, yeeld it vp againe by their mouths, and in vomitting returne backe againe all the wine they haue swallowed. The women as wel as the men gnaw vpon the Ice to coole their ouer-hot stnomacks. But in lust they surpasse the males, being borne to suffer. The gods and goddes­ses confound them, who haue peruerted the order of habitation both with male and female. Wonder not therefore, though the greatest amongst Physi­tians, and Naturalists was deceiued in this, that at this time there are so many bauld and gowtie women. By excesse haue they lost the benefit of their sex, and because they haue shaken off the habit of women, they are condemned to en­dure the sicknesses of men. The ancient Physitians knew not what it was to prescribe their patients to feed often, and to replenish their vaines that were emptied with wine: they knew neither how to cup nor to scarifie, nor to bath and sweat those that had been long time sicke, they knew not how by binding the legs and armes, to reuoke the hidden heat to the outward parts, which was stayed in the center. There was no need to looke about for many kinds of re­medies, when as there were but few sorts of sicknesses. But now to what num­ber and height are infirmities growne? This is the vsury which we pay for so much pleasure as we haue wrongfully and inordinately desired. Maruellest thou to see so many sicknesses? Number me the Cookes. All studie is giuen ouer. The professors of liberall sciences are without auditors, their sieges void, and their schollers gone. Solitude dwelleth in the Schooles of Rhetoricians and Philosophers. Contrariwise, how many famous Kitchins are there: how many yong men fill vp the fires of such as are prodigall and dissolute. I speake not of the troopes of poore yong children, who at the shutting vp of a feast at­tend to suffer other villanie in the chambers. I ouerslip the troopes of those that haue beene abused contrarie to Nature, distinguished by nations and co­lours, so as on the one side, all they of the same height are raunged, and they whose beards begin to bud, and such as are haired alike, to the end that he who hath the straight and long haire, should not bee mixed amongst those that are curled. I ouerpasse the troopes of Pastlers, and attendants who serue in supper when the signe is giuen them. Good God, how many men are busied about one belly. Thinkest thou that these mushromes, a sort of pleasant poison, al­though they hurt not vpon the present, doe they not secretly work and wrong at last? Thinkest thou that this snow, which they vse to refresh and coole them­selues with in Sommer, hardeneth not their liuers, and that vnsauoury meat of Oysters, that are fattened with mud, engender they not viscous and clammie humors? Beleeuest thou not that the sauce which is composed of Mackerels and other sort of [...]ish that costs so deere, doth it not with his drying saltnesse burne the entrailes? Iudgest thou that these rotten ioyces which are swallow­ed downe hot, can they without harme be extinguished in the stomacke? How [...]ilthie and pestilent belches? What loathing of themselues? Whilest they dis­gorge their old surfets? Know thou, that whatsoeuer they take rotteth, but dis­gesteth not. I remember that in times past AEsopes dish was much spoken of, wherein this sweet-lipped fellow running vnto his owne ruine, gathered all that was either rare or daintie from the tables of great men: there were diuers sorts [Page 405] of shel-fish handsomly chewed and ready to swallow, ath wart whereof were enterlaced Creuisses, and aboue them dressed Barbels, cut in pieces and se­uered from their [...]innes and bones. It loatheth them to fe [...]de on euerie dish apart, all sauces are mixt in one, and at supper-time that is done, that should be done after collation time. Now must I expect to haue the min­sed meates serued in so small, as if they had been chewed. What difference is there betweene taking away the s [...]ales and bones, or to haue a Cooke to execute the office of our teeth? It is too tedious a thing to disgui [...]e all sortes of meates; for once wee must make a hochpot, why should I put a­ny hand into a dish that had but one kinde of daintie? Let me haue many come together. Let the ornaments of many dishes be vnited and ioyned toge­ther. Let them forth with know, who say that this prodigality at mens Tables is done to make them to be talked of and esteemed, that these are not publique, but excesses done in secret. Let those things that were wont to be s [...]uerally dressed, be serued in in one broth. It is all one as if Oysters and Sea-crabs, Mus­kels and Mullets be mixed together. The meat of those that vomit should not be more confused. But as these meates and sauces are confounded the one with the other; so likewise of such confused excesse, diuers compounded inexplica­ble, different, and manifold sickenesses do arise, against which Physique hath be­gun to arme her selfe with many remedies and obseruations. The same say I of Philosophy; it was in times past more simple, amongst those whose sinnes were not so enormous, but more easie and slight to be cured. Against so great corrup­tion of manners all things are to be attempted. And would to God this plague at last might be so ouercome: we play the mad-men, not onely in priuate but in publique; Doe we represse priuate murthers? What shall I say of warres and the glorious sinne of destroyed countries? Neyther auarice nor crueltie knew a­ny measure; and these things as long as they are done by stealth, and by pri­uate men are least hurtfull and monstrous. By the ordinances of the Senate, and Edicts of the people, those hainous offences which are cond [...]mned in priuate men, are permitted vnto all, and committed in sight of euery man. We praise a publique crime, which we would punish with death had it beene committed se­cretly. Are not men ashamed, that by nature are the mildest, to take pleasure in shedding their neighbours bloud, to make warre, and leaue this exercise to their children? wheras euen the dumbe and sauage beasts haue peace amongst themselues. Against so potent and generall a furie Philosophy was made more effectuall, and assumed so much power vnto her selfe, as they had gathered a­gainst whom she is addressed. It was an easie matter to chide and reproue those th [...]t were giuen ouer to wine, and besotted with delicacy and dainties; for there needed no great force to reduce the minde to frugality, from whence by little and little she had reuolted.

Now neede we worke by force and violence,
And then by Art and great experience.

Pleasure is sought for on euery side. No vice conteyneth it selfe in it selfe. Dis­solution runs headlong into auarice, honesty is forgotten: there is nothing fil­thy if it be prised or pleasing. A man, a sacred thing; a man is now murthered in jest. And whereas it was impiety to teach a man to giue and receiue wounds, now expose we him in publique both naked and disarmed, supposing that his death would be a pleasing spectacle to content an assembly. So then in this [Page 406] peruersitie and corruption of manners there needeth some medicine more ea­ger then was accustomed to dissipate these inueterate euils. We must propose Maximes and rules, that the perswasion of falsities too greatly entertained, may be wholly extinguished. To these if we annex precepts, consolations, exhorta­tions, they may preuaile, being scarce powerfull enough of themselues. If we will set them free that are bound, and draw them from those euils wherewith they are now entangled, let them learne what euill is, and what good is. Let them know that all thing [...] change their name but onely vertue, and now be­come euill, and now good. As the first bond of warfare is Religion, and the loue of our Ensigne, and the loathing and hainousnesse to forsake it, and after this all the rest are easily commanded and obtained at his handes who hath so­lemnly obliged his faith: so also must thou lay the first foundations in those whom thou pretendest to conduct vnto happy life, and to plant vertue in their hearts. Let them be seized with a zealous superstition thereof, let them loue her, let them desire to liue with her, not to liue without her. What then? Are there not some that without any subtill institution, haue become honest, and haue attained to great perfection, whilst they onely submitted themselues to bare precepts? I confesse no lesse. But they had a happy and apprehending spirit, which in a moment apprehended that which is proper for his instructi­on. For euen as the immortall gods haue learned no vertue, whereas by being and nature they are all good, so some of noble nature comprehend those things which are taught them, and as soone as vertue is shewed vnto them, they embrace it. Whence grew these mindes so greedily catching after vertue, and so fruitfull of themselues? But to those that are dull and hard of vnderstan­ding, or long time besieged with euill customes, the rust of their mindes must be rubbed off. Euen as we easily draw those vnto perfection who are inclined to good; so on the other side the meanes to redresse the feeble, and to dispossesse them of their euill opinions, is to propose vnto them the rules and Maximes of Philosophie, which are marueilous necessary, as thou shalt perceiue by that which ensueth. We haue certaine inclinations which make vs heauy in some affaires, and light and rash in others: neyther may this rashnesse be repressed, nor that slownesse awakened, except their causes be cut off, such as are false ad­miration and fained feare. As long as these haue vs in their possession, thou mayest say, This must thou doe for thy father, this for thy children, this for thy friends, this for thy guests; but auarice will restraine him that would at­tempt so good a course. He shall know that he ought to fight for his countrey, but feare shall disswade him. He shall know that he must labour for his friends to the vttermost, but pleasures shall withdraw him. He shall know that it is a most hainous kinde of iniurie towards a wife to entertaine a harlot, yet shall lust compell him to the contrary. It will therfore profite nothing to giue precepts, except thou [...]irst of all take away all things that are contrary to them: no more then it will profite to haue laide weapons in sight, and to haue set them nee­rer, except his hands be vnbound that vseth them. To giue a means vnto the minde to apprehend the precepts which we giue, we must giue it libertie. Let vs suppose that a man doth that which he ought not; he will not doe it conti­nually, he will not doe it equally, for he knoweth not wherefore he doth it. By aduenture or by custome some things will goe well, but a man shall not haue a rule in hand, to know the same whereunto he may trust that they are rightly done, which he hath done. He will not promise to continue good that is casu­ally good. Againe, pecepts may happily instruct thee to doe that which [Page 407] thou oughtest, but not in that sort as thou oughtest; and if they performe not this, they bring thee not to vertue. He shall doe that which he is aduised to do: I grant [...]t. But that is little, because the praise consisteth not in the deede, but in the manner how it is done. What is more odious then a sumptuous supper, whereupon a man spendeth a Knights liuing? What is more worthy of censure then if a man (as these gluttons say) bestow this vpon himselfe and his Genius? and yet haue there beene some persons, both very sober and temperate, that in such extraordinary banquets haue spent the summe of seuentie fiue thousand crownes. If for gormandize sake a man lauisheth in this expence, it is hatefull; if it be to honour any great and noble assembly, it may be borne withall, for it is no excesse but a solemne expence. The Emperour Tiberius hauing receiued a Barbell of a wonderfull greatnes: (shall I set downe the weight to awake gour­mands? for it is said that it weighed more then foure pounds & a halfe) cōman­ded it to be carried to the market and sould, saying to those that kept him com­pany at that time; My friends, I am much deceiued, but eyther APICIVS or P. OCTAVIVS will buy this Barbell. But there fell out farre more then he expect­ed; for they set the Barbell to be cried, and it was sold to him that offered most. Octauius bare it away, and was highly prised amongst his adherents, because he had bought a Barbell which the Emperour had solde, and Apicius could not buy it for two hundreth crowns, or thereabouts. It was a shame for Octauius to disburse so much money, not for him that bought it to send it to Tiberius, al­though I would not excuse him. He admired the thing which he thought Cae­sar worthy of. A man sits by his friend that is sicke: I allow it; but if he doe it in hope to be his heire, he is a Vulture, he expecteth carrion. The same thing [...] are both honest and dishonest: but it importeth to know wherefore, or how. But all things will be done honestly, if we addic [...] ou [...] selues thereunto, and iudge it with the dependances thereof, to be the onely good of humane life, the rest are good but for a short time. We must therefor [...] imprint in our hearts a lesson that extendeth it selfe to the whole life: this is that which I call a decree. Such as this perswasion is, such shall those things be which shall be eyther done or thought. And such as these shall be, such shall be the life. It is but a small mat­ter for him that would rule the whole, to giue counsaile that it should be distri­buted into parts. M. Brutus in his booke he intituled [...], giueth many precepts both to father and mother, children and brothers, which no man shall performe as he ought, except he haue some rule whereunto he may haue rela­tion. Let vs propose vnto our selues a scope or soueraigne good, at which we ayme, and to which we addr [...]sse al our thoughts and life, as the Marriners ought to shape their course vnder the aspect of some certaine starre. Life without a limit is extrauagant: if this limit must be proposed, the rules that shew vs the same, begin to be necessarie. Thou wilt confesse this, as I suppose, that there is nothing more shamefull, then to see a man that is doubtfull, irresolute, fearfull, that now sets forward, and then slides backward. This will befall vs in all things, if we doe not rent away that imprisoneth and restraineth our vnderstan­dings, and that hindereth them from stirring at their pleasure. It is a vsuall thing to teach the manner how to serue the gods. We forbid men to light lamps on the Sabboth dayes, because the gods haue no want of light, and men take no pleasure in smoake. We forbid men from doing their reuerences and salu­tations in the morning, and permit no man to sit at the Temple gates; for humane ambition is baited and caught by these offices. He that knoweth God, serueth and hononreth him. We forbid men to bring sheets & bathing-combs [Page 408] to Iupiter, or to hold a glasse before Iuno. God seeketh no Ministers. Why not? He ministereth to mankind. Each where is he readie and addressed to helpe all men. Although he heare, how he ought to behaue himselfe in sacri­fices, and estrange himselfe from curious and troublesome superstitions; yet would all this bee nothing to his perfection, except hee haue conceiued in his vnderstanding a god, such as he ought to apprehend him, namely, such a one as hath all things, that giueth all things, and bestoweth his benefits gratice. But who inciteth the gods to doe all these goods for men? Their nature. He erreth, whosoeuer thinketh that they will doe hurt. They cannot, neither can they receiue or doe iniurie. For to hurt, and to be hurt, are things con­ioynt and haue relation the one vnto the other. That soueraigne and faire na­ture aboue all hath exempted those men from dangers, which are not dange­rous. Moreouer, the first seruice due vnto the gods, is to beleeue that they are next to acknowledge their maiestie and bountie, without which their maiestie were nothing. To know that they are those that gouerne the world, who tem­per all things as their owne, who haue all men vnder their protection, and are sometimes curious of priuate men. These neither giue, nor haue euill, although they chastise, represse, and afflict, and punish likewise some men at sometime, vnder appearance of euill. Wilt thou haue the gods fauourable vnto thee? Be a good man. He giueth them sufficiently that imitateth them. Heere followeth another question, how we ought to vse and serue men. What doe we? What precepts giue we? To shed no humane bloud? How small a matter is it not to hurt him, whom thou oughtest to profit? Truely it is worthie much praise for one man to be kinde vnto another. Shall we command him to succour the ship­wracked, to bring the wanderer into his way, to diuide his bread with the hun­gry? What need I to specifie all that which it behoueth him to doe or flie, when as in three words I will propose a forme of humane offices? All this world, in which all diuine and humane things are inclosed, is but one: we are the members and parcels of this great bodie. Nature hath created vs akin, in for­ming vs of the same elements, and in the same enclosure. She hath planted mu­tuall loue in our hearts, and made vs sociable. She it is that hath composed iu­stice and equity, and by her ordinance it is a more miserable thing to doe, then to suffer iniurie. By her command are his hands addressed, that helpeth and com­forteth another. Let vs haue this verse in our hearts, and in our mouthes.

I am a man, and thinke this true to be,
That nothing humane is estrang'd from mee.

Let vs possesse this common good, that we are borne. Mans society resembleth a vault of stone, which would fall except the stones resisted one another; so that by this meanes it is sustained. After gods and men, let vs behold how we ought to vse these things: vnprofitable should our precepts be, if first of all we knew not what opinion we ought to haue of euery thing, as of pouertie, riches, glory, ignominie, our country and banishment. Let vs esteeme euery one of them without respect of common apprehension, and let vs examine what they be, not what they are called. Let vs passe ouer to vertues. Some one would require that we should prise prudence, that we should respect valour, that we should loue temperance, and that (if it might be) we should ioyne our selues vnto iu­stice more strictly, then vnto the rest. But this would be to no purpose, if we be ignorant what vertue is, if there be one or many, if they be separated or vnited, [Page 409] if he that possesseth one of them hath all, and how the one differeth from the other. It is not needfull now for a Smith to enquire what the beginning and vse of his arte is, nor for a Iester to examine what the arte of dancing is. All these occupations know themselues, they want nothing, because they appertaine not to the whole life. But Vertue is the science both of others and of her selfe, we must learne of her, to the end we may vnderstand what we ought to will. If the will be not good, the action which proceedeth from the same shall neuer be. Furthermore, the will shall be peruerse, if the habitude of the spirit be not vp­right, because that from that the will hath his being; and this hab [...]te of minde shall not be in the best state, if it comprehendeth not all the rules of life (con­sidering the iudgement which a man ought to haue of euery thing) and shut them all within the circle of truth. The contentment of the spirit is a good that befalleth no man, except those that are endowed with a certaine and vn­moueable indgement. The rest of men slip, fall, and sometimes or other rise againe, and doe but float betwixt that which they haue omitted, and that which they desired. The cause of this tossing and shaking is, because hauing builded vpon common report, which is a wonderous and vncertaine manner of liuing, they are assured and confident in nothing. If thou wilt alwaies haue the same will, thou must will those things that are true. There is no way to at­taine truth without Maximes, for they containe life, good and euill, honest and dishonest things, iust and vniust, pious and impious, vertue and the vses of ver­tue, the possession of things commodious, existimation and dignitie, health, force, forme, and sagacitie of the sences; all these require such a one as can iudge of them, and knoweth at what price they ought to be taxed. For thou abusest thy selfe, and thinkest that some things are of greater value then they be, and the more art thou deceiued, in prising riches, credit, and power (as many other of thy ranke doe) which are not to be accounted worth any thing. Thou shalt not know this, if thou respectest not rule, whereby these things are estimated amongst themselues. Euen as leaues cannot flourish by themselues, but require a bough whereunto they may cleaue, and from whence they may draw iuyce and nourishment: so these precepts decay and vanish, if they be alone, they will be affixed and grounded vpon Maximes. Besides, they vnderstand not who take away decrees, that they are confirmed by that very meanes, whereby they are extinguished? For what say they? that life is sufficiently addressed by pre­cepts: and that the decrees and principall rules of wisdome are superfluous. But this which they say is a decree as true, as if I should now say that we ought to giue ouer precepts, and onely rely vpon Maximes, in denying the vse of pre­cepts, I should recommend the same by this precept of mine. Some things there are that content themselues with a simple admonition of Philosophie, o­thersome that would be proued: and some there are, that are so confused, that hardly and without great search a man cannot vnderstand their true sence: if proofes be necessarie, so are decrees likewise, which gather the truth by argu­ments. Some matters are easie, other some are obscure. Those are easie and open, which are comprehended by sence and memorie, and those obscure which are not subiect thereunto. But Reason contenteth not her selfe with things that are manifest. The greatest and most beautifull part therof, is groun­ded on that which is hidden. Those things that are hidden require proofe, proofe is not without decrees; decrees therefore are necessarie. The perswa­sion and apprehension of certaine things, without which all our thoughts are vncertaine and without stay, is that which perfecteth the common sence, and [Page 410] maketh it accomplished. Whence it followeth that decrees are necessary, which giue vnto the minde an inflexible iudgement. In briefe, when we exhort any man to esteeme his friend as much as himselfe, let him thinke that his enemie may be made his friend, that he encrease more and more the friendship he bea­reth vnto the one, and moderate his hatred towards the other; we adde there­unto that it is iust and honest. But this honestie and equitie is comprised, in the reason of our decrees or rules. It is therefore necessarie, without the which the other cannot be. But let vs ioyne the generall rules and precepts together, for both without the root the boughes are vnprofitable, and the rootes them­selues are aided by those branches they haue produced. No man can be igno­rant what profit the hands haue in them, for they manifestly helpe. That heart whereby the hands liue, from whence they take their forces, by which they are moued, lieth hidden. The same can I say of precepts; they are open, but the de­crees of wisdome are hidden. As there are none but such as professe, that know the mysteries of sacred things: so likewise in Philosophie, the secrets of the same are not discouered, but to such persons as are admitted and receiued into her sanctuary: but precepts and such other things, euen those that are prophane know thē Posidonius iudgeth, that not only preception (for nothing prohibiteth vs to vse this word) but also perswasion, consolation, & exhortation are necessa­ry. To these he addeth the inquisition of causes, which why should we not be bould to call the character, as wel as the Grammarians, who in their owne right terme themselues the maintainers and keepers of the Latine tongue I see no cause. He saith that the description of euery vertue will be necessary. This doth Posidonius call AEnologia, the Grecians [...], which expresseth the signes and notes of euery vertue and vice, whereby those things that are alike may be discerned the one from the other. This hath the same force as the proposition of precepts. For he that giueth precepts, saith, Thou shalt doe thus, if thou wilt be temperate. He who describeth, saith, The temperate man is he that doth these things, and abstaineth from those. Askest thou me what the difference is? The one giueth precepts of vertue, the other example. I confesse that these descrip­tions, and to vse the words of the Publicans, [...], that is to say, markes pro­ceed from vse. Let vs propose laudable things, and we shall finde such as will fol­low them. Thinkest thou that it is profitable to haue instructions giuen thee how to know a generous Horse, left thou be deceiued, and thou buy a sluggard and a Iade. How much more profitable is this, to know the markes of an excel­lent minde, whereby thou mayest be able to apply them to thy selfe.

Vir [...]l 3 [...] Geor­g [...]m.
The goodly coult bred from a noble race
Begins to grow amiddest the spacious fields,
And proudly ouer hill and dale doth pace,
His force vnto no threatning torrent yeelds,
The seas vnknowne he swimmes and neuer feares,
The threatning brookes; his force and courage proud,
To further kindes encrease is daily bent,
No sooner tempts his eare the trumpet loud,
Or clattering armes some future warre present:
But straight he startles beating of the ground
With horny hoofe, his eares are prickt vpright,
He shakes his ioynts, he doth coruet and bound,
He snortes and puffes, with fome his bit is white.

[Page 411] Our Virgil, vnder the similitude of a horse, describeth a man of great minde. For mine owne part, I would not giue any other portraiture of a great perso­nage. If I should represent Cato dreadlesse, and assured amongst the noices of ciuill warres, being the first that charged and skirmished with the companies alreadie approching the Alpes, and running before the ruine of the Common-weale, I would assigne him no other countenance, no other habit. Truely no man could engage himselfe further then he, who at one time made head against Caesar and Pompey, and defied them both, and shewed that the Common-weale had some partakers. For it is a small matter to say of Cato,

Nor feares rumors false.

Why? because he cared not for euident and true conspiracies. Did he not in despight of ten Legions entertained and mustered from France, and from other forren troopes, intermixed with the Romans, speake freely, and exhort his Citi­zens to maintaine their libertie, and to trie all meanes, yea to hazard death it selfe, rather then to lose their libertie; it being more honest for them to fall into seruitude by constraint, then by their owne wills to go vnto it. How great vi­gor and spirit was there in him, what confidence when the rest of the Com­mon-weale was confused? He knoweth that the question is not of his estate; that it concerneth not him, that the question is not whether Cato be free, but whether he be amongst free-men. Thence groweth it that he disdaineth dan­gers and drawne swords. In admiration of the inuincible constancie of this person, confirmed in his constancie amiddest the ruines of his Country, I will say in imitation of Virgil, that Cato had

A mightie minde, high, stout, and generous.

It shall doe well, not onely to expresse who they are, that haue beene accusto­med to be good men, and to represent some counterfeit of them, but also to recount and particularly set downe that last and valourous wound of Catoes, through the which libertie it selfe lost her life. Likewise the wisdome of Laelius, and the good accord betwixt him and his friend Scipio, The braue actions both publike and particular of Marcus Cato, sirnamed Censor, the Couches of Tubero made of plaine wood, set in open view, couered with Goats skins, and the ves­sels of earth wherein they were serued at the table, who banquetted before the Chappell of Iupiter: what other thing was this, but to consecrat [...] pouertie be­fore the Capitol? Had I no other action of Tuberos, but this, to rancke him in the number of the Catoes. Thinke you this to be a small matter? This was no banquet, but a Censure, O how little knew these ambitious men what this censure is, and how it ought to be desired! In that day the Roman people be­held many rich aud sumptuous moueables, but admired none but the vten­siles of this one man. All their gold and siluer hath beene broken and melted a thousand times, but Tuberoes vessels of earth shall endure for euer.

EPIST. XCVI.

Against complainers, and that all things should come from Fate and God. Why there­fore are we displeased? Let vs obey them, or rather assent vnto them.

WHence proceed these despights and plaints? Knowest thou not that in all the euils of this life, there is but one euill, which is when thou art displeased, and complainest? If thou aske mine aduice, I thinke there is not any miserie in a man, except he thinke that there is something miserable in the nature of things. I endure not my selfe that day wherein I can suffer nothing. Am I sicke? it is a part of my destiny. Is my family afflicted with infirmities? Doth vsury offend me, my house cracke ouer me? Am I assaulted by dangers, wounds, trauailes, and feares? This hap­peneth ordinarily, this is a small matter, this should be done, these are not ca­suall, they are decreed. If thou thinke me to be a true man, when I discouer freely vnto thee what I thinke, know that in all accidents which seeme aduerse and hard, I am so formed. I obey not God forcibly but freely, I follow him with a free heart, and not enforced. Nothing shall euer befall me, that I will entertaine sorrowfull or with sad countenance, I will pay no tribute vnwilling­ly. All those things which we grieue at, for which we feare, are the tributes of life: neither hope thou (my Lucillius) neither demand thou an exemption from the furie. A paine of the bladder hath tormented thee. This banquet hath little pleasure in it; these are continuall passions. I will [...]ome more nee­rer, thou hast beene put in feare of thy life. But knowest thou not that in desi­ring to be old, thou desirest such incommodities as are ordinarie in a long life; as in a long way we finde dust, dirt, and raine? But I would liue and feele no discommoditie, whatsoeuer. So effeminate a speech becommeth not a man. Consider how thou wilt entertaine this vow of mine, which I protest with a great and generous minde, neuer let the gods and goddesses permit, that pro­speritie make thee a wanton. Aske thy selfe, if (by permission of any god) thou mightest haue thy choice which of these two thou wouldest acc [...]pt, either to liue in a Shambles, or in an Armie. But our life (my Lucillius) is but a war­fare. They therefore who are tossed, that mount and descend from rockes and high places, that execute dangerous commissions, ought to be reputed va­liant men, and chiefest in the Armie. But they, who whilest their companions trauaile, repose themselues at their pleasures in all delights, are effeminate and nothing worth, who liue at pleasure to doe wrong vnto other men, and to meet with it themselues one day.

EPIST. XCVII.

That both now and in times past were euill men [...] he deduceth example from the iudge­ment of CLODIVS, which he corrupted by bribes and adulteries. After this of the force of conscience, and that by her offences are condemned, and also punished by an in­ternall whip and gnawe.

THou abusest thy selfe, my Lucilius, if thou thinkest that dissolute­nesse, and neglect of good manners, and other vices which euery man reproueth in the age wherin he liueth, are the imperfections of our age. It is not the time but the men that are to be blamed for this. No age hath beene free from vice; and if thou beginnest to estimate the libertie and loosenesse of euery time I am ashamed to say it. Ne­uer did the world offend more openly then before Cato. Can any man beleeue, that mony was stirring in that iudgement, wherein Clodius was accused for that adulterie which he had secretly committed with Caesars wife, violating the cere­monies of that sacrifice, which was said to be made for the people, from the sight whereof all men are so much exempted (for onely women are admitted to attend the same) that the very pictures of male beasts were couered likewise. But money was giuen to the Iudges, and (that which is more villainous then all the rest) there were some that exacted in way of salarie, the licence to violate Matrons and young Noblemen. More sinne was there committed in absoluing then acting the crime. He that was guilty of adultery, diuided adulteries; ney­ther was he secured of his life, before such time, as he had made his Iudges like vnto himselfe. These things were done in that iudgement, wherein Cato (if nought else) gaue in testimonie in the cause: I will set downe Ciceroes very words, because the thing exceedeth all beleefe; Hee sent for those persons that were required at his hands, he promised, he intreated, he gaue. But now O good Gods, what wickednesse? Some of the Iudges in ouerplus of their paines, lay with and passed the night with certain [...] women, and young Noblemen that were brought vnto them. I haue no minde to enquire how much money they receiued. There was more in that which succeeded. Wilt thou haue the wife of that seuere fellow Cato? or of such a one who is rich, that is to say Crassus? thou shalt lie with her. When thou hast committed the adultery condemne the crime. That faire lasse which thou desirest shall come vnto thee [...] I promise thee that she shall accompany thee this night, neyther will I delay thee; I will perform my word within foure and twenty houres. It is more to distribute adulteries, then to commit them. That is to giue summons to all the Matrons, that to delude them. These Iudges of Clodius required a guard at the Senates hands, whereof they had no neede except in condemning the faultie, yet was it granted vnto them. By meanes whereof, after they had absolued Clodius they were wittily scoffed at by CA­TVLVS; To what intent, said he, required you a guarde at our hands? Was it for feare lest your money should be taken from you? Yet amidst all these jests, and before the sentence was giuen, the adulterer remained vnpunished: during the processe this ba [...]de maintained himselfe, committing (to the end he might warrantize himselfe from punishment) a more greater wickednesse then the former, for which he should haue beene condemned. Beleeuest thou that any age was more corrupted then that wherein lust could neyther be repressed by pietie nor by iustice? vnder which in the extraordinary inquiry made by decree of [Page 414] the Senate, there was more great villany commited, then that which was then in question. The inquiry was, whether after an adultery any man might liue securely in Rome? And it appeared that he could not be secure without adul­tery. This was done betweene Pompey and Caesar, Cicero and Cato; that Cato, I meane, who sitting by to behold the games, the common people durst not de­mand that the common sports called Florales should be giuen them, wherein common and naked strumpets were publiquely presented. Thinkest thou that men haue beene more seuere to behold, then to giue sentence? Such excesses haue and will be committed, and the libertie and licentiousnesse of Citties (ne­uer by it sel [...]e) but by good lawes and sharpe punishments shall be extinguish­ed. Thou art not therefore to beleeue that in these dayes onely, the lawes haue little credite, and licentiousnesse much. The yonger sort in this time are not so disordered as in times past, when he that was guilty denied the adultery before the Iudges, and the Iudges confesse the same before him that was faulty, when as in regard of the cause that was to be adiudged, whoredomes and villa­nies were committed, when Clodius being well befriended for those Palliardises that made him guilty for all allegations furnished with harlots to iustifie for him. Can any man beleeue this? He that was condemned in one adulterie was absolued by many. Euery Iudge will a [...]foord vs such as Clodius, but not such as Cato. All of vs are pliable to the worst, because therein we shall neyther want a guide or companion; and were it we should faile them, the matter of it selfe goeth ouer-forward without companion: the way vnto vices is not onely ready but headlong. But the greatest euill that I see, and that maketh men vn­curable is, that Artsmen and such as are learned are ashamed if they happen to erre in the exercise of their Arts and professions, where contrariwise a wicked man taketh pleasure in his sinnes. The Pilot reioyceth not if his Ship be ouer­turned, the Physitian is sad if his Patient die, the Orator is pensiue if for want of good pleading his clyent loose the cause; but contrariwise, all men take plea­sure in their sinnes. This man reioyceth in his adultery, especially when he hath compassed the same with great labour: another taketh pleasure in his de­ceit and theft, it is not the sin that displeaseth him, but the punishment he hath had for committing it. See here the fruit of euill custome: Otherwise to let thee know, that in consciences (yea, euen those that are most corrupted) there remaineth some sense of goodnes, and that shame consisteth not in the concea­ling, but the neglect of those that doe euill, there is not one that dissembleth and couereth it not: and if he chance to obtaine that which he pretendeth, yet would he not be called a whoremonger or thiefe, although he had both com­mitted adulterie and theft. But a good conscience will appeare and be seene. Wickednesse is afraid of darkenesse it selfe. In my minde therefore Epic [...]rus hath spoken very fitly: A man that is guilty may hide himselfe, but he cannot be­leeue that he is hidden. Or if thou thinkest that this sense may be better explica­ted by these meanes; It therefore profiteth not those that sinne to lie hidden: for al­though they haue the meanes to hide themselues, yet haue they no assurance. So it is, ini­quities may be concealed, but not assured. I suppose that this is not repugnant to our sect if it be thus explicated. Why? Because the first and gre [...]test punish­ment of wicked men, is that they haue committed wickednesse; neyther is there any hainous crime, though neuer so much boulstred out by humane pro­sperity, or countenanced and defenced by fortune that remaines vnpunished, because the punishment of wickednesse is in the wickednesse it selfe. Meane while, she and her punishment are seconded and attended by another chastice­ment, [Page 415] that is to say, with affright and continuall feare, accompanied with a di­strust of his owne [...]ecuritie. Why should I deliuer impietie from this punish­ment? Why should I not leaue her alwayes in suspence. Let vs dissent from Epicurus in this where he saith nothing is iust by nature, and that crimes are to be auoyded, because the feare may not be eschued. Herein let vs agree with him, that an euill conscience scourgeth these hainous faults, and that she is a ter­rible torture, being pressed and beaten continually with perpetual care, because she cannot put trust in those that would make her beleeue that she is in repose. For this is the argument of Epicurus, that by nature we abhorre from wicked­nesse, because there is no man how much soeuer he be secured that feareth not. Fortune deliuereth many men from punishment, no man from feare. Why? because there is a certaine hatred infixed in our hearts against that thing which nature condemneth. And therefore it is why those who hide themselues are neuer assured in their lurking places, because their conscience reproueth them, and discloseth themselues to themselues. But the propertie of such as are guil­tie, is to tremble. It would be ill for vs, because that diuers enormities escape the lawe and maiestrate and the written punishments, if these naturall and grie­uous punishments did not instantly pay the wicked, and if feare had not taken place and succeeded repentance.

EPIST. XCVIII.

That we ought onely to trust internall goods, and that the rest com and go. That this is to be meditated vpon, and that all things ought to be considered and esteemed as tran­sitory, The minde therefore is to be prepared to the losse of such things, and to be con­firmed in patience. Why not? Other men haue suffered the like. Follow thou their example, nay more, be thou the example thy selfe. Assuredly this is one amongst his good and profitable Epistles.

NEuer beleeue thou that any man is happy, whose felicity is in suspence. He buildeth vpon vncertainties, that reioyceth in ca­sualties; for the ioy that hath entred will quickly fleete away. But that which proceedeth from it selfe is both faithfull and firme, and increaseth, and prosecuteth euen vnto the end. The rest, which the common sort admire, are good for a time. What then? May not they serue and giue pleasure? Who denyeth it? But so as they depend on vs, not we on them. All whatsoeuer fortune beholdeth became fruitfull and plea­sant in this sort, if he that possesseth them be Master of himselfe likewise, and is not subiect to that which he hath. For they are deceiued, my Lucilius, that think that fortune giueth vs eyther any thing that is good or euill. He giueth vs the matter of goods and euils, and the beginnings of things, which shall either haue a happy or vnhappy issue with vs. For the minde is stronger then any fortune, he conducteth his affaires, eyther right or wrong, he is himselfe the cause of his contented or miserable life. An euill man conuerteth all things to the worst, yea, euen those things which happened with appearance of great good. An vpright and good conscience correcteth the infirmities of fortune, and mollifi­eth those things which are hard and vntoward by his knowledge how to suffer, and the same man most gratefully and modestly entertaineth prosperity, and constantly and couragiously aduersitie, who although he be prudent, although [Page 416] he doth all things with an exact iudgement, although he attempt nothing a­boue his strength, yet that intire good which is setled and exempted from the threats of fortune doth not befall him, except he be assured against whatsoeuer is vncertaine. Whether it be thou wilt obserue others (for the iudgement is most free in other mens affaires) or whether leauing partiality a part, thou wilt beholde thy selfe, thou shalt both thinke and confesse this, that no one of these goods which are desired and prised is profitable, except thou arme thy sel [...]e a­gainst lightnesse, and those things that depend on casualtie, except that oft and without complaint thou speake thus in euery one of thy losses. It is the pleasure of the gods that it should goe otherwise. Or rather that I may report a speech more strong and iust, whereby thy minde may be more enabled, say thus when as any thing hath falne out otherwise then thou thoughtest: The gods send better. Being thus composed, nothing shall be casuall: and so shall he be composed, if they shall but imagine what the variety of humane affairs may, before he feele it, if he so possesse his children, his wife and patrimony, as if he should not alwaies haue them, and as if he should not be more miserable for this cause, if he should be forced to lose them. Wretched is that minde that is tor­mented with that which is to succeed, and before miseries is he miserable who is carefull, that those things wherein he taketh delight should continue with him to his end: for he shall neuer be in quiet, and in expectation of the future, he shall lose the present which he might enioy. But the griefe of the thing that is lost, and the feare of that which is to be lost, are both [...]quall. Neyther there­fore doe I command thee to be negligent. But decline thou from those things that are to be feared, and foresee all that which prudence may foresee: consider and preuent that thing which may offend thee long time before it happen. To this ef [...]ect thy confidence will serue thee greatly, and thy certaine resolution to support all accidents. He can beware of fortune that can suffer fortune: vn­doubtedly he neuer stormeth in his tranquillity. It is a misery and extreame folly to be alwayes in feare; what folly is this to goe before a mans euill? In briefe, to let thee know that in a word, which I think I will describe vnto thee, these busie-bodies, and tormenters of themselues: they are as intemperate in their miseries as they were before them. He grieueth more then he needeth, that grieueth before he needeth; for by the same infirmity he estimateth not his griefe, whe [...]eby he expecteth it not; with the same intemperance he faineth to himselfe pe [...]petuall felicity, he imagineth that all these things that haue be­ [...]alne him, should not onely endure but increase and forgetting that all humane things are both tossed and changed, which is while he promiseth himselfe one­ly an assured estate in his casualties. I finde then that Metrodorus spake very fitly, when in a letter he sent vnto his sister to comfort her in the death of her sonne, which was a childe of great hope, he said that all the goods of mortall men are mortall. Of these goods speaketh he which men so much affect and [...]locke after; for the true good perisheth not, wisedome and vertue are certaine and eternall, these onely are the immortall goods that haue befalne mortall men. But men are so vnhappy, and so farre forgetfull whether they goe, whe­ther euery day draweth them vnto, that they wonder if they lose any thing, being assu [...]ed one day to lose all. Whatsoeuer it be that thou art called Ma­ster of, know that it is not thine, although thou possesse it. Thou art infirme and mortall, there is nothing then in this world that is firme and immortall for thee. It is as necessary our goods should perish as be lost, and if we take heede it is a great comfort to lose those goods with a setled and resolute minde, which [Page 417] must perish. What remedy then shall we finde out against these losses? This, that we may keepe in memorie such things as are lost, neither suffer the fruit of them, which we haue gotten by them, to perish with them. To haue may be ta­ken from vs; to haue had, neuer. Most ingratefull is he, who wh [...]n he hath lost, oweth nothing for that he hath receiued. Casualty taketh our substance from vs, but leaueth the vse and fruit thereof with vs, which we lose by the iniquitie of our desire. Say vnto thy selfe; Of these things that seeme so terrible, nothing is inuincible. Many there are that haue ouercome each one o [...] them, M [...]tius the [...]ire, Regulus the crosse, Socrates poison, Rutillius banishment. Cato death enforced by his owne sword. Let vs likewise get some victorie: moreouer, those things which allow & entice the cōmon sort, vnder appearance of beauty & happines, haue by many & oftentimes bin contemned. Fabricius being chiefe of the army [...] reiected riches, and being Censor cōdemned them. Tubero iudged pouertie to be worthy both of himselfe & the Capitol, when as vsing earthen pots in his pub­like supper, he shewed that man ought to content himselfe with that, wh [...]rwith the gods disdained not to be sometimes serued. Sextius the Father, a man fit to gouerne the affaires of a Common-weale, refused all honourable Offices, and would not accept the dignitie of a Senator, which Iulius Caesar had presented him, knowing well that whatsoeuer may be giuen, may be taken away. Let vs likewise doe some of these things valiantly. Let vs ranke our selues as exemplar men among the rest. Why are we faint-hearted? Why despaire we? What­soeuer might be done, can be done. Let vs now purge our mindes, and follow Nature, for he that erreth and strayeth from her must of force, desire, and feare, and be a slaue to casualties. We may returne into the way, we haue libertie to recouer our constancie. Let vs be restored, that we may endure grief [...]s, in what manner soeuer they assaile our bodies; and say vnto Fortune, Thou hast to deale with a man, search out some other, a man whom thou mayest ouercome. By these say­ings and such like, the force of that vlcer is appeased, wherof I desire either ease or recure, or strength to support and waxe old with the same. But I am secure of him; the question is of our losse, whereby a worthy old man is taken from vs. For he is full of life, who desireth that nothing should be added vnto him for his owne cause, but for theirs to whom he is profitable. He doth liberally, be­cause he liueth. Another ere this had finished all these troubles: this man thin­keth it as foule a thing to shunne death, as to seeke after death. What then, shall he not forsake it, if he be perswaded thereunto? Why should he not forsake it? If no man now hath any further vse of him, if hee haue no businesse but to waite vpon paine. This (my Lucillius) is to learne Philosophie in art and to be exercised in the truth, to see what minde a prudent man hath against death, a­gainst dolor, when the one approcheth, the other presseth him. That which is to be done, is to be learned of him that doth it. Hitherto we haue debated by arguments, whether any man may resist paine, or death likewise may humble great mindes, when it assaileth them. What need many words? The thing discouereth it selfe, let vs trauell thereunto: neither doth death make him more stronger agains [...] paine, neither paine confirme him against death, hee armeth himselfe against both; neither patiently greeueth he in hope of death, neither dieth he willingly thorow the tediousnesse of paine; he endureth the one, hee respecteth the other.

EPIST. XCIX.

A consolatorie Epistle vpon the death of his sonne, vndoubtedly both wise and elo­quent.

I Haue sent thee that Epistle which I wrote vnto Marulus, when as he had lost his litle son, and was said to be ouerpassionate and grieued for his losse: wherein I haue not obserued my vsuall cu­stome, neither thought I it fit to handle him gently, when as he was more worthy of reproofe then consolation. For to him that is afflicted and vnable to support a great wound, some little way must be giuen. Let him satisfie himselfe, or at least-wise vpon the first brunt powre out teares abundantly. They that giue libertie to themselues to sorrow and lament, let them forthwith be chastised, and taught, that there are some follies euen in teares. Dost thou expect consolations, receiue reproofes. Doest thou endure thy sonnes death so effeminately? What wouldest thou doe haddest thou lost thy friend. Thy yong infant of vncertaine hope, and very little, is departed: a handfull of time is lost. We seeke out occasions to lament, wee exclaime, al­though vniustly against Fortune, as though she would not afford vs iust causes of complaint. Truely in esteeme that thou wert alreadie as animated sufficient­ly against solide and great euils, and consequently against shadowes and appea­rances of miseries, for which men mourne for custome sake. Hadst thou lost thy friend, which is the greatest losse of all others, thou shouldest endeauour to re­ioyce more because thou hadst him, then to mourne for that thou hast lost him. But many there are that reckon not what courtesies they haue receiued & com­fort they haue conceiued by their friends. Amongst other miseries sorrow hath this, that it is not only superfluous, but vngrateful also. Hauing therfore enioied so good a friend, hast thou lost thy time? So many yeares, so great a vnitie, such familiar societie in studie: are all these vanished without effect: Doest thou bu­rie thy friendship with thy friend? Wherefore mournest thou if his presence hath beene so profitable vnto thee? Beleeue, the greater part of those whom we haue loued remaineth with vs, although casualtie hath taken them from vs. The time alreadie passed is ours, neither is there any thing more securely lod­ged, then that which hath beene. We are vngratefull in regard of those things we haue receiued vnder hope of that to come; as if that which is to come (if so be it proue successefull vnto vs) should not quickely passe into that which is past. To straitly limitteth hee the fruits of humane life, who onely reioyceth in those things that are present. Both those things that are to come, and those things that are past, doe delight the one with expectation, the other in memorie, but that which is to come is in suspence, and may not be done, as tou­ching that which is past, it is vnpossible but that it hath beene. What madnes is it then, to leaue that which is most certaine? Let vs content our selues with that wee haue, prouided that wee haue not drawne with a hollow vn­derstanding, which letteth that passe which hee hath already apprehended. There are infinite examples of those, who without teares haue interred their yong children, who vpon their returne from the funerals, haue entered the Se­nate house, or entertained some publike office, and suddenly occupied them­selues about some other businesse, and that vpon good occasion. For first of all it is lost time to grieue, if sorrow profit nothing. Secondly, it is an vniust thing [Page 419] to complaine of that which hath befallen one, and must befall all those that are to follow after. Moreouer, it is a folly to wish, or to lament, when there is so little difference betweene death and him that lamenteth the same [...] For the which cause we ought to haue the more repose in our hearts, because we shall follow them whom we haue lost. Behold with what swiftne [...]e time posteth a­way: thinke vpon this short race whither we runne so swiftly. Consider this great company of mankind, which tendeth to the same end, conuersing and li­uing together, distinguished by small spaces, euen then when they seeme most greatest. He whom thou thinkest dead, is but gone before. But what madnes is it to bewaile him that went before thee, when as thou thy selfe must trauell the same iourney after him? Doth a man bewaile that thing which hee knew should happen? Or if he thought that man should not die, he deceiued him­selfe. Some man bewaileth a thing which he said could not chuse but be done? Whosoeuer bewaileth the death of any man, bewaileth that he was a man. All men are tied to one condition, he that happened to be borne, must die. By spa­ces we are distinguished, by death equalled. That which happeneth betweene our first and last day, is diuers and vncertaine. If thou estimate the troubles, it is ouer-long for a childe: if the swiftnes, it is too short for an old man. There is nothing that is not incertaine and deceiuable, and more light then the winde. All things are tossed, and are transferred into their contrary by the power of Fortune, and in so great inconstancie of humane affaires, there is nothing cer­taine to any man but his death. Yet all men complaine of that, wherein no man is deceiued. But he died a childe. I say not yet, that he is better dealt withall that is dead. Let vs pas [...]e ouer to him that is old, how short is the time wherein he hath out-stripped an infant? Propose vnto thy selfe this great extent of years, and comprehend all the ages that are past, then make comparison with that which wee call mans life, with that infinitie of yeares, and then shalt thou see how little a thing all that is which we desire, and extend. Consider how much teares, cares, death so oftentimes wished for, before it comes, sicknesses, feares, foolish infancie, wanton youth, and vnprofitable yeares do possesse, and de [...]our the portions of our life, we lose the halfe in sleeping. Let vs adde hereunto tra­uels, sorrowes, and perils, and thou shalt see that in the most longest life which a man can obserue, that which is called liuing, is the smallest portion of the same. But who will not grant thee this, that hee is in better state that may quickly turne to dust; whose iourney is at an end before he be wearie? Life is neither good nor euill, it is the place of good and euill. So hath he lost nothing but the eye which is more certaine to our harmes then good. He might haue become both modest and prudent, he might haue beene formed by thy care and instru­ction to be more vertuous, but (that which may most iustly be feared) he might haue beene made like to th [...] most part of men. Marke me those yong Gentle­men of great houses, who by their intemperance are brought to that miserie that they are become fencers. Consider those others, who lewdly defile both their owne and others bodies, which ouerslip not a day wherein they are not drunke, or defamed for some other notable infamie. Then shalt thou see that there was more to be feared then hoped for. For which cause thou oughtest not summon to thy selfe these causes of sorrow, nor in vexing thy selfe heape vp incommodities, and of light and slight ones, as they be, to make them vn­sufferable. I counsell thee to resist thy sorrow, and to vrge it, neither haue I so bad an opinion of thee, that thou wouldest call to aide all thy vertue against those difficulties which present themselues. This is no true griefe, but a slight [Page 420] touching, thou makest it true griefe, vndoubtedly Philosophy hath done thee great seruice, if thou bewaylest with a resolute heart a childe better known vn­to his nourse then to his father. Well then, will I haue thee seized of a heart of iron? and is it my minde that thou shouldest looke vp cheerely in the funerals of thy sonne? and will I not suffer thee to let thy minde relent a little? By no meanes. For this were inhumanity, not vertue, to beholde the dead with the same eye that wee doe the liuing, and not to bee moued when as the one is thus separated from the other. Beholde what it is which I forbid. There are things which in a manner are out of our power. Teares fall from the eyes of certaine men that would faine containe them, and these teares thus shed doe lighten the heart: what is there to bee done in such a case? Let vs suffer them to fall, but let vs not commaund them. Let them droppe as long as a [...]fection commaundeth them to flowe, but not as much as custome and other mens example doth require. But let vs adde nothing vnto sorrow, ney­ther let vs augment it by other mens examples. This ostentation of sorrow exacteth more then the sorrow it selfe. How few are sorrowfull to themselues? If they suppose that men heare them, they crie out more earnestly; but being by themselues, they are quiet, and as soone as any other saluteth them, then re­commence they their sorrow, then beate they their head with their handes, which they might haue done more freely when no man forbad them; then wish they themselues dead, then tosse they vpon their pallets: when the be­holder is gone, the sorrow ceaseth. In this affaire as in others, we are won by an euill custome, we follow the example of our neighbours, and compose our selues by their example, and not by that which best becommeth vs. We neg­lect nature, and addict our selues to the fashions of the common people, which are both ignorant and corrupt, and who in this as in all other things, is incon­stant of inconstantest. If they see any man confident in his calamitie, they call him impious and brutish: if they see another dismayde, that respecteth nothing but his body, they tearme him a weake and an effeminate man. All things ther­fore are to be reduced within the list of reason. But there is no one more grea­ter folly then to get fame by affected sadnesse, and to approue it by tears, which I consider in two kinds in regard of a wise-man, the one issuing of themselues, the others permitted to flow. I will shew thee what difference there is: Assoone as we heare the newes of our deceased friend, when as we behold his body, rea­dy to be transported to the fire from our embraces, naturall necessity extorteth teares, and the spirit being impelled by the stroke of sorrow, euen as it shaketh the whole [...]ody, so sucketh it, and expelleth from the eyes the tear [...]s that are at hand. These teares are extorted as they fall, and flow against our wills. Some other there are which we giue way to, when as any man maketh mention of those whom they haue lost. In this heauinesse there is found some sweetnesse, when we remember our selues of their pleasant discourse, of their agreeable conuersation, of their charitable piety, then doe our eyes open and poure forth teares, as it were in ioy. To these we giue allowance, by these we are ouercome. Restraine not therefore, neyther giue libertie to thy teares, by reason of those that assist thee, or attend vpon thee, be it that eyther they are dried vp, or drop downe, there is no shame in them, prouided that they be not fained. Let them flow of thems [...]lues, and they may flow in men temperate and well composed. Oft-times they haue flowed without any preiudice to a wise-mans authority, with so much temperance, that there neyther wanted humanity, or were disal­lowed in dignity. It is lawfull, say I, to obey nature without the blemish of gra­uitie. [Page 421] I haue seene men that were venerable in the funerals of their children, in whose lookes their loue was testified towards their dead children, without any vaine ostentation of grieuing. There was not any thing which testified not a simple and naturall affection. There is a certaine decorum, euen in sorrow which ought to be obserued by a wise-man. And as in other things, so likewise in teares there is somewhat that is sufficient: vnwise men, as in their ioyes, so keepe they no measure in their sorrowes. Accommodate thy selfe peaceably vnto necessitie. What incredible matter or nouelty hath falne out? How many men are there, whose funerals haue beene celebrated, whose bodies haue beene em­balmed and embowelled, and who weepeth for them? As oftentimes as thou shalt remember that thy dead childe was an infant, thinke also that hee was a mortall creature, to whom nothing certaine was promised, whom fortune was not obliged to bring vp to olde age, but to forsake then when it best liked her. But speake of him oftentimes, and celebrate his memory as much as thou canst, which oftentimes will be refreshed in thee, if it may salute thee without bitter­nesse. For no man willingly conuerseth with a sorrowfull man, much lesse with sorrow. If thou remember any speeches of his, if thou hast during his infancy, heard any jests of his to thy contentment, repeate them often, and constantly a [...]firme that he might haue fulfilled those hopes which thy fatherly minde had conceiued of him. It is the act of an vnnaturall minde to forget a mans friends, and to bury their memories with their bodies, and to weepe for them abun­dantly, and to remember them slenderly. So birds and beasts loue their young ones with a violent and enraged affection, but with the losse of them it is whol­ly extinguished. This becommeth not a wise-man: let him continue his re­membrance, forbeare his mourning. This doe I no wayes allow of, which Me­tr [...]dorus saith that there is a certaine ioy that is allied to sorrow, and that this should be affected at this time. I haue set downe Metrodorus owne words, of which I doubt not what censure thou wilt yeeld; for what is more absurd then in sorrow to a [...]fect pleasure, nay more, by sorrow and teares to seeke that which may comfort? These are they that obiect against vs our too much rigour, and defame our precepts for their hardnesse, because wee say that sorrow is ey­ther not to be admitted into the minde, or quickly to be expelled out of it. But whether of these two is more incredible and inhumane, eyther not to feele any sorrow for the losse of our friend, or to search pleasure in sorrow? But that which we teach is honest, when as our affection hath powred forth any teares, and (if I may so speake it) hath skummed them [...] that we ought not abandon our selues wholly vnto sorrow. What sayest thou? That we mixe pleasure and sorrow together. So still we our children by giuing them bread, so pacifie we our infants by powring in milke. Touching thy selfe at such time as thy sonne burneth, or thy friend expireth thou canst not permit thy leasure to cease, but wilt tickle and flatter sorrow it selfe: whether of both is more fitting, eyther to heale the soule of all griefe, or to mixe griefe and ioy together, I say not onely to mixe, but to take occasion of pleasure out of his sorrow. So farre is it that sor­row is accompanied with any pleasure, as Metrodorus thinketh. This is lawfull for vs to say, but vnlawfull for you: you acknowledge but one good, which is pleasure, and one euill, which is paine. What alliance may there be betweene good and euill? But suppose there be; now especially must we finde the same, and now it is that we must see whether paine be enuironed with any ioy or pleasure. Certaine remedies there are which applied to some partes of the bo­die are wholsome, but by reason of their loathsomnesse and indecency cannot [Page 422] be applied to others, and that in one place may profite without touch of mode­stie, is dishonest in another part, where the wound most appeareth. Art thou not ashamed to heale sorrow with pleasure? This wound must be handled with more seuerity, rather proue that the dead can feele no euill; for if so it were, he should not be dead. Nothing, say I, hurteth him that is nothing. He liueth if he be hurt. Whether thinkest thou him to be in bad case who is no man, or him that as yet is some body? But in as much as he is not any more, there is not any torment that may o [...]fend him; for who can feele it that is not? neyther in as much as he is, can he be endamaged; for he is deliuered from the greatest dan­ger, which is death, by being no more. This likewise let vs say to him that be­wayleth and wanteth his childe, rauished from him in his young yeares. If thou make a comparison of the shortnesse of all mens liues, with the length of time which is pa [...] since the beginning of the world, both young and olde shall finde themselues equall. For both the one and the other of vs possesse as little as no­thing of that length and extent of time. A little is yet somthing, but our life and nothing are almost al one, notwithstanding we stretch it out as much as we may, such is our follies. I haue written these things to thee, not because thou shoul­dest attend from me a remedie, which cometh too late; for I suppose that thou hast tolde thy selfe all that which is contained in my letters. But that I might chastise that little delay, wherein thou hast departed from thy selfe, and in con­clusion might exhort thee to arme thy selfe hereafter against aduersities, and to foresee all fortunes assaults, not as they might, but as they ought suddenly to af [...]lict thee.

EPIST. C.

His iudgement of PAPIRIVS FABIANVS the Philosopher, and of his writings.

THou writest to me that thou hast very diligently read ouer those books of Fabianus Papirius, intituled of things Ciuill, but that they answered not thine expectation. And afterwards, forgetting thy selfe that the question was of a Philosopher, thou accusest his composition. But put case it be so as thou say [...]st, that in stead of well couching his words, he saith all that commeth to memorie: first of all, this discourse hath his grace, and it the proper ornament of a stile, little faultie: for I think there is a great difference whether it escapeth or floweth. Now in this also which I am to speake, there is a great difference: Fabianus seemeth not to me to speake much, but to speake to the purpose. To speake truth his stile is fluent, but not inforced, although it be currant enough. He confesseth openly, and letteth vs see that it is not an affected and laboured stile, but such a one as a man may know it was Fabianus writing. He pretended not to confront his discourse, but to reforme manners: he laboured not to tickle the eare, but to teach & instruct the minde. Furthermore, at such time as he discoursed thou shouldest not haue leasure to consider the parts of his discourse, so much would the summary of the whole rauish and detaine thee. And ordinarily that which is pleasing to vs, be­ing pronounced Viua voce readily and presently, is not so pleasing vnto vs, being couched in writing. But this also is a great matter, to settle and occupie the sight vpon a book, although a diligent contemplation might find out matter worthy reprehension. If thou ask my opinion, more great is he that rauisheth our iudge­ment then he that deserueth it. Such a one is more assured, and if I erre not, may [Page 423] more boldly promise his writings perpetuitie. A laboured discourse becomes not a Philosopher. What shall becom of a generous and resolute heart? when shall hee make proofe of himselfe, if hee be afraid of wordes? Fabianu [...] was not n [...]gligent in his discourse, but secure. Thou shalt finde nothing in him that is base and impertinent. The wordes are chosen but not affect [...]d, neither couch­ed according to the custome of this time, or disordered. They are words that haue their weight, that haue an honest and magnificent sense, although they be ordinary & vulgar, they are neither constrained nor doubtfull in a sentence, but graue & profound. We shall neither s [...]e any thing that is curtalled & short­ned, nor any structure vnfit, nothing that is not polished, as the eloquence of this time requireth. Examine this discourse euery way, and when thou hast be­held it on euery side, thou shalt [...]inde no straights emptie. Although it haue no Marbles of diuers colours, nor diuiding or currents of waters running thorow chambers, nor little clossets of sparing and abstinence, nor whatsoeuer else disso­lutenes, not contenting himselfe with a simple & conuenient decency, hath in­uented and mixed together, yet is the house well builded. Let vs now speake of stru [...]ture and composition, for all men are not of accord herein. Some of harsh will haue it smooth, some are so much affected to rashnesse & austerity, that if a clause do happily end in a pleasing cadence, they purposely dissipate the same, and interrupt the clauses expresly, lest they should be answerable to expectati­on. Read Cicero, his composition is one, he obserueth his foot, his speech is poli­shed, smooth & not effeminate. Contrariwise, Asinius Pollio's discourse is vneuen and skipping, and such as will leau [...] thee when thou least expectest it. To con­clude, in Cicero all things end, in Pollio th [...]y fall, except a few which are tyed to one certaine kind of custom and example. Besides, in thine opinion thou sayest, that all things in his discourse are humble & scarce vpright, of which vice in my iudgement he is freed: for they are not humble but pleasing, and are formed in an equall and composed manner, not tied together but vnited, they want this rhetoricall vigour nor those points, and sudden darted sentences. But exa­mine the whole body, although it be not farded it is honest and wel [...]ashioned. His speech hath no grace: bring me one whom thou mayest prefer before Fabi­anus. If thou producest Cicero, who hath almost written as many books in Philo­phy as Fabianus, I will giue place; y [...]t is not that presently little that is lesse then the greatest. Say that it is Asinius Pollio, I will yeelde; but to return [...] thee an answere: To be after these two [...] is too very high when the qu [...]stion is of elo­quence. Name me Liuie beside these, for he also hath written Dialogus, which a man may as wel cal Philosophical as Historical: other books likewise, wherin he treateth expresly o [...] Philosophie; to him likewise will I giue place, yet consi­der how m [...]ny he exceedeth, who is ouercome by three, & they the three most eloquent. But he performeth not al, his speech is not strong, although alate; it is not violent nor headlong, although abundant in words; it is not perspicuous but pure. Thou desirest a sharpe declamation against vices, a confident discourse against dangers, a bould speech against aduersitie, an inuectiue against am­bition. I will haue wickedness [...] chidden, lust traduced, impatience bridled. Let the termes of an Orator bee stinging, of a tragique Poet stately, of a Co­micke familar and plaine. Wilt thou haue him countenance a small matter with words? He hath addicted himselfe to the gentlenesse o [...] things he drawes our eloquence, and makes it follow after him, as the shadow doth the bodie. Vndoubtedly all his words shall not be well placed and exactly couched toge­ther; neither in euery clause shall there bee a part that may quick [...]n and a­waken [Page 424] men. I dare promise that diuers periods shall escape him to no purpose, and that somtimes his discourse shal slip away without mouing, but in al places his wordes shall be agreeable, neyther shall there be any pause that will be dis­pleasant. In a word, he will make thee know that he beleeued whatsoeuer he wrote. Thou shalt see that his intention was to make thee know what he ap­proued, and not to flatter thee: he demandeth nothing but thy good, and sear­cheth for nought else but to see thee endowed with a good conscience. It is not applause which he desireth. I doubt not but his writings are such, and though I remember not their intents in generall, yet hau [...] I b [...]fore mine eyes some pas­sages of the same, not in that I haue read them ouer lately, but for that I haue s [...]ene them in times past, and long since. At such time as I heard him, his wordes in my iudgement were such, not solid but full and natural, which might allure a young and well dispos [...]d man to vertue, and giue him hope to attaine the true end; which manner of teaching in my opinion, is more effectuall then any other, for that of another kind maketh the auditors to lose their harts, and taketh away their hope, which impresseth no other desire in them, but to imi­tate and follow the same. In briefe, Fabianus abounded in wordes without the commendation of euery seuerall part; but all his discourse in generall was ex­quisit and magnificent.

EPIST. CI.

Of the sudden death of one of his acquaintance, and by occasion that we are to trust or promise nothing to our selues. That all things are vncertaine, and therefore good life is not to be deferred, neyther long life to be desired: in conclusion, he controlleth MECAENAS his absurd vow.

EVery day, euery houre sheweth vs how vaine and nought worth we be, and by some new argument admonisheth vs that are for­getfull of our frailty, when as it compelleth vs (who meditate vp­pon eternitie) to looke backe vnto death. Askest thou me what this induction meaneth? Thou knewest Cornelius Senecio a Ro­mane Knight, a man both rich, liberall, and courteous, who from a slender e­state beginning, had raised his fortunes, and had attained the speedy meanes al­ready to compasse the rest. For dignity doth more easily increase then begin. Mony also maketh the longest stay about pouerty, whilst she creepeth out of it. This Senecio aspired vnto riches, whereunto there were two very effectuall meanes that conducted him, that is to say, the knowledge of getti [...]g, and the meanes of keeping, whereof the one is sufficient to make a man rich. This man being wonderfully frugall, no lesse carefull of his patrimony then of his bodie, when as according to his custome he had s [...]ene me in the morning, when as from morning to night he had sitten by his friend that was grieuously sicke, and lay desperate without hope, af [...]er he had supped merrily, was seized with a sud­den sickenesse, that is to say, with the Squinancy, which s [...]rangled him, and set his soule at libertie. He departed therefore within a few houres after he had per­formed all the offices of an able and healthfull man. He that traded with his money both by Sea and Land, that had publique profit [...] also, and left no kinde of profit vnsought after, in the very height of his succesfull fortunes, when as money rained on euery side into his coffers, was taken out of this life. [Page 425]

Now MAELIBEVS graft thy peares againe,
And plant thy vines vpon the pleasant plaine.

How fond a thing it is to promise our selues long life, whereas we are scarcely Lords and Masters of to morrow. O how mad are they that feede on fained hopes, and long enterprises? I will buy, I will build, I will lend, I will recouer my debts, I will haue such and such estates, and then when I am fully satisfied, I will passe my full and weary age in repose and quiet. But trust me, all things are vncertaine, yea euen vnto those that thinke themselues most assured. No man ought to promise himselfe any thing of that which is to come. That also which we haue surest hold-fast of, slippeth thorow our fingers, and casualtie cuts that very cord in sunder whereon we haue greatest hold-fast. There is a prefixed or­dinance in the reuolutions of the world, although they are marueilously obscu­red. But what concerneth it me, whether that be certaine to nature, which is vncertaine to me? We purpose & intend great voyages by Sea, wherin we shall see many forraine parts, & resolue not to return again into our country of a long time: we must to the warres, and be richly recompenced after we haue passed thorow al the degrees of armes, & haue had commissions & honorable charges, more and more, the one after the other, when as in the meane while death stan­deth by our sides, and because we neuer cast our eyes on that which is ours, but only vpon that which is anothers, from time to time the examples of our frailty appeare vnto vs, whereon we neuer thinke, but at such time as they stay before our eyes. But what is more foolish then to wonder to see that done in any day, which may be done in euery day. It is a thing most assured, that the scope of our life is limitted by the inexorable necessitie of destinie, but no man knoweth how neere it is. Let vs therefore so dispose our mindes, as if this present time were our last houre. Let vs deferre nothing. Let vs daily make euen with life. It is the greatest errour in life, that it is alwayes imperfect, and that some part thereof likewise is deferred. Hee that hath euery day laid the last hand on his life, needeth not time. But from this indigence proceedeth feare, and a desire of the future deuouring and eating our mindes. There is nothing more miserable then the doubt to things to come, why they happen. The soule that debateth what it is that remaineth, or of what kind is agitated with an inexplicable feare. How shall we auoid this perplexitie? By this one, if we prolong not our life in vaine discourse, but gather it into it selfe. For he to whom the present time is vn­profitable, cannot haue any repose, in regard of the future [...] But whereas what­soeuer is due by me vnto my selfe, is restored to my selfe, whereas the confir­med minde knoweth that there is no difference betweene a day and an age: she beholdeth, as it were, from an high tower, all the dayes and affaires that here­after are to come, and with much laughter thinketh on the sequele of times. For what should the varietie and mutabilitie of fortunes trouble thee, if thou be assured against incertainties? Make hast therefore (my Lucillius) to liue, and thinke euery seuerall day, a seuerall life. Whosoeuer ordereth himselfe thus, he that maketh euery day his whole life, is secure. They that liue in hope, haue neuer any time of rest, they are alwayes desiring and coueting: and the appre­hension of death a thing most miserable, and which maketh all things most mi­serable neuer forsaketh them. From thence proceeded that dishonest wish of Moecenas, who contented himselfe to be weake, deformed, and tormented with grieuous and sharpe sicknesse, prouided he might prolong his life amiddest the masse of these miseries. [Page 426]

Make me weake in thigh and hand,
Make my feet infirme to stand,
Shake my teeth, and make them cracke,
Stoope my shoulders, bend my backe;
So my life remaine, I care not,
Threaten torture, come and spare not.

This is to wish an extreame misery, if it should haue happened, and the length of the punishment is desired, as if it were some life. I should repute him a con­temptible fellow, if he would liue vntill such time as hee were tied to the gal­lowes. Yet this man saith, weaken me, prouided that my soule may remaine in my crased and vnprofitable bodie: dis [...]igure mee, if this counterfeit and mon­strous bodie of mine may lengthen my life some dayes. Torture and crucifie me, if so be by that meanes I may liue. It is a strange matter in him to hide his wounds thus, and to be content to remaine hanged and stretched vpon a gibbet, vpon condition that death, which is the end of all punishment, and the soue­raigne remedie against all euils, should be d [...]ferred in his behalfe. See heere a wondrou [...] thing, I would hau [...] a soule to die without dying. What wouldest thou wish for, O Maecenas, but that the gods should haue pitie on thee? Where­to tendeth the villany of this verse, proceeding from an effeminate mind? What meaneth this couenant inuented by senselesse and madde feare? And to what purpose is this shamefull begging of loathsome life. Thinke you that Virgil e­uer recited this verse vnto him,

To leaue this life, is it a thing so wretched?

He wisheth the worst of euils, and those things that are most grieuous to be suf­fered, hee desireth to be grieuously tortured and hanged vp: and why, or for what recompence, for sooth, for a longer life. But what is this mans life? to die long. Is th [...]re any man found, who had rather parch himselfe vp amiddest tor­tures, and to lose one member after another, and to die so oftentimes amiddest defluxions, as to die at one time? Was there euer any man that had rather wish to lie cou [...]hed all at his length vpon a miserable bed languishing, deformed, crook [...]d both before and behind, that besides his violent sicknesses, had other more mortall, that desireth to retaine a soule being tortured and rent in peeces by so many torments? Say now that the necessitie of death is not a great gift of Nature. Many as yet are readie to vow farre worse, yea euen to betray their friends that they may liue longer, and to deliuer their children to be deflowred with their owne hands, that they might prolong their life, being guiltie of so much wickednesse. We must shake off this desire of life, and learne this, that it skils not when thou sufferest any thing, which thou must suffer sometimes: that all in all is to liue well, without taking care how long, and that oftentimes also this well liuing consisteth in a life which is not long.

EPIST. CII.

He speaketh somewhat of the immortalitie of the soule, and then annexeth a question, Whether renowne doth vs any good after death. First he disputeth slenderly and Scho­lastically, then about the end more effectually, and leadeth our mindes to God and ce­lestiall things. He approueth that this our bodie is our burthen and couer, that it ought to be despised and shaken off, when God and time summon vs thereunto.

EVen as he is troublesome that awakeneth another man, that is sea­zed with some pleasant dreames, although it be fained, for he ta­keth away the pleasure, yea such notwithstanding as hath the ef­fect of truth. So thy Epistle hath done me iniurie, for it hath re­called me from a thought and meditation, into which I was suffi­ently entered to the purpose, and had engaged my selfe further, had I not by this meanes beene disturbed. I tooke pleasure to debate vpon the eternitie of soules, nay more, I was fully resolued therein. For I easily beleeued the opini­ons of great men, rather promising then approuing so gratefull a matter. I gaue my selfe ouer to this so great hope, and now grow hatefull vnto my selfe, and now contemned the reliques of my broken yeares, being readie to be transfer­red into that immeasurable time, and possession of that in [...]inite eternitie, when as suddenly I was awakened by thy letter, which made me dismisse so sweete a dreame, which hereafter I will reuiue and redeeme againe, as soone as I haue sa­tisfied thy expectation. Thou sayest that in my former letter I did not suffici­ently answere that question, wherein I laboured to proue that which they of our sect doe approue, that the praise which a man obtaineth after death is a great good. That I haue not answered that question which is opposed against vs. Of goods that are distant (say they) there is none good; but this is a thing distant and farre off. That which thou proposest (my Lucillius) is a part of the question, yet such a part a ough [...] to be debated vpon in another place: and therefore I neither would touch that, neither other things that were depen­dent thereupon. For some Morall questions as thou knowest are intermixed with the Naturall. And therefore I entreated onely of that part which wholly concerneth manners. That is to say, whether it be a foolish and superfluous thing to transport our thoughts beyond the latter end of this life; whether our goods perish with vs, and nothing remaineth of his, who is nothing; whether we shall feele any fruit of that which shall be (what soeuer it may be) before we may enioy it. But all these questions pertaine vnto manners, and therefore are they ranked in their proper place. But those things which are spoken by the Logicians against this opinion, are to be seuered, and therefore are they set a­part. But now, since thou requirest at this time a reason of all, I will examine that which they say, and afterwards answere their obiections. If I propose not something first, a man cannot vnderstand the refutations. What is it that I would foretell? That there are some continued bodies, as a man: some com­pound, as a ship, a house, and all other things whose diuers parts are vnited to­gether in one. Some likewise that consist of distant parts, whose members are as y [...]t separate, as an Armie, a People, a Senate. For they of whom this bodie is composed, are vnited together either by law or duetie, but by nature they are distinct, and each one seuerall. What is it likewise that now I will foretell? That we suppose that nothing is good, which is compos [...]d of things distant. For one [Page 428] good mu [...]t be maintained and gouerned by one spirit, and that there is but one principall of one good. This is approued by it selfe, if thou requir [...]st it to bee proued, and in the mean while it was to be set down [...], to the end it might be the ground of our discourse. Thou wilt say, you other Stoicks maintaine that no good is composed of things distant. But this glorie whereof wee entreate, is a fauourable opinion of good men. For as a good fame is not one mans words, neither infamie one mans mis-report: so is it not praise to please one good man, many famous and worthy men must consent herein to make it glorie. But this consisteth in diuers mens iudgements, and namely those that are distant, there­fore it is not good, glory (saith he) is a commendation giuen by good men to a good man: commendation is a speech, a speech is a voice that signifieth some­thing. But the voice, although it be a good mans voice, is not goodnesse. For whatsoeuer a good man doth, is not alwayes good. For he clappeth his hands and hisseth. But neither will any man say that his clapping or hissing is good, although he applaud and admire all whatsoeuer is his, no more then he will do his snee [...]ing or coughing. Therefore glory is not good. In a word, tell vs whe­ther this good concerneth the praiser, or him that is praised? If the praiser, it is as much as if thou shouldest say, that another mans good health is mine, but to praise those that are worthy is an honest action, therefore this good concer­neth the praiser, from whom this action commeth [...] not from vs that are praised. But this is that which is in question. I answere briefely to these obiections. First the question is at this day, whether any good may be composed of those things that are distant; and both parties haue their reasons. Secondly, praise desireth not many suffrages: for it may be contented with one good mans iudgement, who onely is a competent Iudge, to say that all they who resemble him are good. What then (saith he) shal fame depend vpon the estimate of one man, and infamie tied to the mis-report of another man? Glory also (saith he) as I vnder­stand, is spread more largely. For it requireth the consent of many men. The condition of these, and of this are different. Why? Because if a good man haue a good opinion of me, I am in the same estate that I should be, when as all good men should haue like thought of me. For if all of them knew me, they would iump [...] in the opinion of this one man. They haue but one and the same iudge­ment, and they that cannot differ, doe necessarily agree in their opinions. Ther­fore, that which one thinketh importeth as much, as if all of them had spoken because they cannot be of any other opinion. The opinion of one man (saith he) sufficeth not to giue glory and renowne vnto another. To this I answere, that herein the opinion of one auaileth as much as of all, for if euery one of them be demanded, they will answere alike. In this place the iudgements of those tha [...] disagree are diuers, the affections different. Thou shalt finde all things in this world doubtfull, light, and suspected. Thinkest thou that all mens mindes are alike? Vndoubtedly the same man is not of the same opinion al­wayes. Truth is pleasing to the good, and this truth neither changeth his vi­gor or colour. Amongst the wicked there are falsities wherein they accord, but there is nothing but inconstancie, repugnancie and discord in a lie. But praise (saith he) is but a voice spread in the aire, and that a word meriteth not the name of good [...] when as they say that praise is the commendation of good men, deliuered by good men; now referre it not to the words but to the sentence [...] For although a good man hold his peace, and yet iudgeth any man worthy of com­mendation, by this is hee commended. Besides, there is a difference betwixt these two words, Praise, and Praising, which requireth explication. Deliuering a [Page 429] funerall Oration, we vse not this word praise but praysing, which consisteth in wordes. But saying that some one is worthy of praise, we vnderstand by this word the iust iudgements of men, rather then their speeches. So then praise shall be the right opinion of him who without speaking, priseth in himselfe any good man. Furthermore as I haue said, praise hath relation to the thought, not vnto the words, which expresse the praise which is conceiued inwardly, and vt­tered to the knowledge of many men. He praiseth who iudgeth that he ought to praise, when as the Tragique Poet saith, That it is a magnificent thing to be prai­sed by a praise-worthy man: he meaneth that this praise-worthy man is worthy of praise. And when another Poet of the same time saith that praise nourisheth arts, he speaketh not of a flatterie which corrupteth arts. For there is nothing that hath so much soiled eloquence, and all other studies addicted to the eare, as the applause of the people. Fame would be published and bruited, praise would not, for she respecteth not wordes, but contenteth her selfe with iudge­ment; she is accomplished, not onely amongst those that are silent, but likewise amongst those that oppose themselues against her. Now will I declare what difference there is betweene praise and glorie; Glory consisteth on many mens iudgments, Praise on good mens. To whom returneth the good of praise (saith he) eyther to him that is praised, or to the praiser? Both to the one & to the o­ther. It is a great good for me to be praised, for nature hath created me a louer of all men: I reioyce that I haue done well, & one of my contentments is to haue met with men which take pleasure in those vertuous acts which I might haue done. That many are thus disposed is a good which they enioy, but I haue my part in it also, being of that mind that I think other mens good be mine, especial­ly those men to whom I am the cause of this good which proceeds from vertue. But euery occasion of vertue is good, which they could not enioy if I were not vertuous. So then a true praise is a common good, both to him that praiseth, and him that is praised, as certainly as a iust sentence is the good and honour both of the Iudge and the partie who obtaineth profit by the cause. Doubtest thou that justice is not a good both to the debtor and creditor? It is iustice and equity to praise a man that meriteth praise, and consequently is a common good, both to him that praiseth, and him that is praised: we haue sufficiently answered these cauillers. But this should not be our purpose to sow subtilties, and to draw Philosophie from her majestie into these straights: how farre better is it to goe the open and direct way, then to finde out by pathes and loose our selues therein, and be constrained to returne backe, to our great trouble and pre­iudice? For these disputations are nought else but the pastimes of men that would cunningly beguile one another. Rather tell mee how naturall a thing it is to extend the minde to infinitie. A great and generous thing is mans mind, it endureth not to be circumscribed by any limits, but those which are com­mon to him with God. First of all, he acknowledgeth nor himselfe to be natu­turally bred in any region or land whatsoeuer, as in Ephesus or Alexandria, or in any other countrey of the greatest extent, or most peopled. All whatsoeuer is in­uironed by the continent of heauen is his countrey, that is to say, his round, composed of Seas and Lands mixed together, within which the extent of the ayre seperateth and vniteth things celestiall and terrestriall, in which so many gods disposed in due order are intentiue to execute their commissions: second­ly, she endureth not to be circumscribed by yeares: all years (saith he) are mine, no age is locked vp to great wits, there is no time thorow which humane thought hath not pierced. When that day which must make a seperation be­twixt [Page 430] the bodie and soule thus vnited, as you see I will leaue this body, where I found it, and will restore my selfe vnto the gods; neyther am I now without them, but in such sort, as I feele my selfe detained in this heauie and earthly pri­son. By these delayes of mortall life we make an entrance to that better and longer life. Euen as our mothers wombe containeth vs nine monthes, and pre­pareth vs not to remaine therein alwaies, but for another place for which it soe­meth we striue both hand and foot, as soone as we are readie to breathe and liue in the aire [...] so by the meanes of this space of time, which is betwixt our infancy and age, we aspire vnto another birth of nature. Another originall, another e­state of things attendeth vs. We cannot as yet suffer the heauen, but by means of this great extent which is betweene them and vs: for which cause beholde thou with a setled eye that determined houre which is not the last vnto the soule, but onely to the body. Whatsoeuer goods of this world thou beholdest about thee, look on them as if they were the baggage and moueables of an Inne. We must passe further; nature leaueth vs as naked at the issue of this world, as we were vpon the entry: thou hast brought nothing with thee, neyther shalt thou carry away any thing with thee; nay more, thou must leaue in the world a great part of that which thou hast brought with thee. Thou shalt be spoyled of that skin that inclosed thee, and the last cloth that couered thee; thou shalt leaue thy flesh and bloud, which is dispersed thorow thy whole body; thy bones and nerues shall be taken from thee, which were the supporters of so many fraile and fleeting things. This day which thou fearest so much, and which thou callest thy last, is the birth day of an eternity. Lay aside thy bur­then. Why delayest thou? Is it so long since that thou forsookest a body, that is to say thy mothers womb where thou wert hidden, to enter into this world? Why striuest thou, and dalliest thou? Thy mother when thou wert borne la­boured hardly to be deliuered of thee. Thou sighest, thou weepest, and this is that which the infant doth as soone as he is borne. But then wert thou to be pardoned, because as then thou wert but new born, and without the knowledge of any thing. Being issued from this hote and soft couch of thy mothers en­trailes, thou hast breathed a more freer aire; then feeling thy selfe touched with a hand somewhat more hard, thou that wert soft and tender, couldest not endure it without crying: and it is not to be wondered at that thou remainedst astonished and daunted amongst so many things, which were vnseene before, considering that thou neither haddest knowledge nor apprehension of any thing. Let it not be a new thing now vnto thee to be seperated from that, wher­of before time thou hast beene some portion: acquit thy selfe willingly of these members which are now superfectlesse, and lay aside this body, wherein thou hast inhabited so long time. It shall be cut in pieces, deuoured and brought to nothing. Why art thou agrieued? So goes the world. The cau [...]es which in­folde the infants in their mothers wombe shall be broken and rotten. Why louest thou earthly goods, as if they were thine? These are but the foulds that wrap thee in. A day will come that will vnfould them, and will draw thee out of the company of this villenous and stinking wombe. Fly now out of this wor [...]d with a forward courage, estrange thy selfe from all things, yea, of those things that be necessarie. That done, meditate on somewhat more high and sublime. One day the secrets of nature shall be discouered vnto thee, this ob­scuritie shall be cleared, and a shining light shall reflect vpon thee on euery side. Thinke with thy selfe how great this brightnesse is of so many celestiall bodies, which mixe their lights together. So faire a cleere shall neuer be obscured by [Page 431] any darkenesse: the heauen shall be as glorious in one part as in another. Day and night are the reuolutions of the regions of the ayre. Thou wilt confesse that thou hast liued in darknesse, when as thou shalt freely see the whole light, which now thou beholdest obscurely thorow th [...]se narrow circles of thine eyes, and from a farre, yet not without astonishment. What wilt thou say of the diuine light, when thou shalt see it in his place? Such a thought as this will not suffer our soules to gather rust or durt, it hindereth vs eyther from humb­ling our hearts too low, or raising them too high. Shee maintaineth that the gods are witnesses of all things, and will that we be approued by them, that we depend on their will, that we haue the day of eternitie alwayes before our eyes. Whosoeuer hath any apprehension hereof in his soule, he hath no feare of Ar­mies, the Trumpet amazeth him nothing, there is no threat that may make him feare. He that expecteth death, can he be without feare? whereas the o­ther (who esteemeth that the soule remaineth and subsisteth during his aboad in the prison of the bodie, in departing from which she is dissipated) ceaseth not to demeane himselfe in such sort, that after his death he pretendeth to serue those that suruiue in som other sort: for althogh he be taken from our sight, yet

The mans great vertue, and his countries glorie,
And wondrous value come to memorie.

Thinke how much good examples profite vs, and thou shalt finde that the me­morie of worthy personages is no lesse profitable for vs then their presence.

EPIST. CIII.

The malice and treasons of men amongst themselues, yet doe not thou so, but lay them a­part; and be thou curteous and willing to doe good vnto all men.

WHy regardest thou on euery side those things that may befall thee, and happily may not chance vnto thee? I meane fire or ruine, and other inconueniences which happen vnto vs, but lay not in waite for vs. Rather consider and auoyde thou the dan­gers which attend and surprise vs. These casualties are rare, although they be grieuous, to suffer ship-wrack, to be ouerturned out of a Coach. But from a man daily a man expecteth the most danger, prepare thy selfe against this euill, and contemplate it with open eyes. For there is no euill more frequent, more ob­stinate, neyther any one more flattering. The tempest threatneth before it ri­seth: the houses cracke before they fall: the smoake foretelleth that the fire is a kindling. But the mischiefe that a man doth is sudden, and the neerer the e­uill is, the more secretly is it hidden. Thou art deceiued if thou trust their looks that meete thee: they haue the faces of men, but the hearts of sauage beasts, but that the first assault of beasts is most violent, which they cannot auoyde: for nothing but necessitie moueth them to hurt; either by hunger or feare they are enforced to fight, but a man taketh pleasure to destroy a man. But thinke thou so that the danger is by a man, to the end thou mayest thinke what the office of a man is. Consider the one, to the end thou be not offended, and the other, to the end thou offend not. Reioyce at euery mans profit, and be sorie for their harmes, and bethinke thy selfe what thou oughtest to performe, and what to a­uoid. [Page 432] By liuing thus, what gettest thou? Thou mayest alwayes auoide that men doe thee no outrage, but thou canst not chuse but be deceiued by them. Especially endeuour thy selfe to take thy retreat to Philosophie, shee will de­fend thee in her bosome. In her Sanctuarie either shalt thou be safe, or safer. Men iostle not one another, except they walke in the same way. But of al things beware to boast of thy Philosophie. Many men by too proudly boasting, and vainely vaunting thereof, haue perished. Let it suffice thee that shee spoileth thee of thy vices, that she reprocheth not other men of theirs, that she abhorre not from publike manners, that she behaue her selfe modestly, without causing men thinke of her, that she condemneth all that which shee doth not her selfe. A man may be wise without making shew thereof, and without enuying any man.

EPIST. CIIII.

Of his sicknesse and the cure, and the charitie his wife had of him. That he had changed his abode for recreation sake, and hereupon an excellent discourse vpon trauaile. That it is not profitable of it selfe, except it be made so by the minde. Let that be amended, and the affections cut off, and that then euery station and estate will be pleasing. That there is likewise another kinde of trauaile, to haue recourse vnto ancient and great men, to behold them in our thoughts, and to imitate them. This rooteth out vices, that planteth vertues, and to this inuiteth he LVCILLIVS.

I Fled into my Grange at Momentanum: but why thinkest thou? to shun the Citie? No, the feuor which began to seaze vpon me. And now alreadie she had laid hold on me. Forthwith therefore I commanded my Coach to be made readie, although my wife Paulina were against it: My Physitian hauing touched my pulse, and finding the arterie beating incertainly and contrary to nature, said that it was the beginning of a feuor. Yet notwithstanding I resolued my selfe to set forward; remembring me of a speech of Gallio, my Lord and Master, who being in Achaia, and feeling himselfe surprised with a feuor, forthwith embar­ked himselfe, crying out that this sicknesse of his proceeded from the aire of the Country, and not from his bodie. This tould I to my Paulina, who recommen­ded my health vnto me. For whereas I know that her soule is translated and li­ueth in mine, for her content sake I begin to haue a care of my health. But al­though that old age hath fortified me against diuers difficulties, yet at this pre­sent begin I to lose this benefit of age. I thought that in this old man there was a yong man, that was ouer much tendered. So then, because I cannot require that my wife should loue me more entirely then she doth, she hath begged so much at my hands, that now I cherish my selfe more tenderly then I otherwise did. For we must giue way vnto honest affections, and sometimes also, if vrgent causes require it, our soule in honor of our friends is to be recalled, though it be to our torment, and retained betwixt our teeth, because a vertuous man is bound to liue, not as long as he liketh, but as long as he must. He that without respect of his wife and friends, laboureth for nought else but to end his life, but demaundeth death is ouer delicate. Let the soule haue this commandement ouer her selfe, (when the profit of those, to whom she is obliged, requireth the same) to shunne death, not onely for her owne cause, but likewise when shee is [Page 433] vpon the point to dislodge and leaue the bodie, to reenter againe, to the end she may be enabled to doe her friends seruice. It is the argument of a great minde to returne vnto life for another mans good, as diuers great personages haue ma­ny times done. And this also esteeme I to be a great humanitie, to maintaine old age more intentiuely, (the fairest fruit whereof consisteth in maintenance of her health, and in liuing more orderly then he was accustomed) if thou knew that to be a thing either pleasant, profitable, or wished for of any of thy friends. Moreouer, there is a great ioy and profit therein. For what greater con­tentment may there be, then to be so dearely beloued by a mans wife, that for that cause thou shouldest become more louing to thy selfe? My Paulina therfore cannot only impute her feare vnto me, but mine also. Demandest thou therfore what successe my determination had in going into the country? As soone as I had gotten out of the foggie aire of Rome, and from the stinck of the smookie chimneyes thereof, which being stirred, power forth whatsoeuer pestilent va­pours they held inclosed in them, I felt an alteration of my disposition. How much, thinkest thou, was my strength encreased when I came vnto my Grange? No sooner entered I the meads, but I beganne to rush vpon my meate with a strong appetite. Thus therefore for the present haue I recouered my selfe, this leannesse of bodie which hath no securitie of health, and which beginneth to decline, is vanished from me, and I beginne to studie diligently. The place yeelds little furtherance thereunto, if the minde be not assistant to it selfe, for if he list amidst all affaires and troubles he may haue a place of retirement. But he that maketh choice of the place, and idleth it vainly, shall euery where finde a nooke wherein to restraine himselfe. For it is reported that Socrates (hearing a certaine man complaine that he had lost his time in trauelling heere and there) returned this answere: not without cause hath this befallen thee, for thou tra­uelledst with thy selfe. O how happie would diuers men be, if they could wander from themselues. But they are the first that sollicite, corrupt, and ter­rifie them selues. What auaileth it to passe the seas, and to change Cities? If thou wilt flie these things wherewith thou art vrged, thou needest not be in an­other place, but become another man. Put case thou wert come to Athens, or to Rhodes; chuse what Citie thou pleasest. What skilleth it what manners they haue? Thou shalt carry thither thine owne. Thinkest thou that riches make men happie? Pouertie (yea the appearance and presumption thereof, which is a lamentable opinion) shall incessantly torture thee. For although thou possessest much, yet because another man hath more, thou shalt seeme vn­to thy selfe by so much the poorer, by how much the other is more rich. Sup­posest thou that honours are good? It shall grieue thee that such a man is made Consul, and that such a one hath twice enioyed the Office, it shal vex thee when thou shalt finde in the publike registers any mans name oftener then thine owne. So great shall the furie of thy ambition be, that if any one shall out­strip thee, thou wilt not thinke that any marcheth behind thee. Wilt thou sup­pose death to be an extreame euill? When as there is nothing euill in it, but the feare which is before it, not only the dangers, but the suspitions wil terrifie thee. Thou shalt incessantly be tormented with dreames and shadowes. For what shall it profit thee that thou hast escaped so many Cities of Greece, and made thy way by flight thorow the middest of thine enemies? Peace it selfe shall af­fright thee. Thou shalt no wayes trust those things that are most a [...]sured, as soone as thy minde shall be shaken. For as soone as she hath gotten a custome to entertaine improuident feare, thou art no more disposed to entertaine any [Page 434] repose or contentment in thy selfe. For she shunneth not, but flieth from the stroake, but if we turne our backes to afflictions, they haue greater holdfast on vs. Thou wilt iudge it a grieuous euill to lose any of those friends thou hast lo­ued, whereas meane while it is as great folly to bewaile them, as to weepe, be­cause the leaues of thy faire shadowing trees, which adorne thy house, are fal­len and shaken to the ground. As much flourisheth the one, as the other which delighteth thee. Death will shake downe the one to day, the other to morrow. But as wee suffer patiently the fall and losse of the leaues of our trees, because they will spring againe: so oughtest thou to endure the losse of thy friends, whom thou conceitest to be the ioyes of thy life, because they shall be restored, although they be not now borne. But they shall not be such as they were whi­lest they remained in this world. Neither shalt thou thy selfe be the same. E­uery day, euery houre changeth thee, but in others the nourishment appeareth more easily, heere it lieth hidden, because it is not done openly. Some are carried away; but wee our selues are secretly stolne away. Wilt thou thinke of none of these things. Wilt thou apply no remedies to these wounds, but send vnto thy selfe the causes of thy cares, by hoping something and despai­ring other? If thou beest wise, mixe the one with the other, neither hope thou without desperation, neither despaire without hope. What can trauell profit any man of it selfe? It tempereth not pleasures, it bridleth not desires, it pacifi­eth not displeasures, it breaketh not the vntamed assaults of loue. To conclude, it disburtheneth the minde of no euill, neither gi [...]eth iudgement, nor shaketh off error, but detaineth the minde for a short time, and entertaineth it with no­ueltie of things, as we see children stand at gaze, when they behold any thing which they haue not seene. To conclude, this going and comming doth no more but make the inconstant thought more light and stirring, which in the height of his euill, prouoketh and altereth it selfe in such sort, that they who most earnestly trauelled into any countrey [...] depart from thence more hastily, and after the manner of skipping birds, flie thence more swiftly, then they came thither. Trauell will giue thee knowledge of Nations, will shew thee the new formes of Mountaines, the spacious and vnaccustomed plaines, the Valleyes watered vvith running Riuers, some floud that hath a certaine no­table propertie, as Nilus, vvhich encreaseth in Sommer, or Tygris, vvhich loos [...] it selfe, then hauing made a long circuit vnder the earth reentereth h [...]s channell, and reneweth his swift and spacious course as before, or hovv Meander (the exercise and play of all Poets) maketh an infinite vvindlas of turnes and retures, that oftentimes discharging her selfe from her owne channell streameth along the bedde of her neighbour flouds, and so retur­neth. But such voyages will neither make thee more healthie, or more vvise. We must conuerse amongst studies, and amongst the authors of wisdome, that wee may learne that which wee desire to know, and seeke out that which is as yet vnfound. By this meanes must the minde bee redeemed from misera­ble seruitude, and set at libertie. As long as thou shalt bee ignorant of that vvhich thou shouldest flie or follovv, of that vvhich is necessarie and superfluous, of that vvhich is iust and honest, this may not bee said a tra­uaile, but an errour. Thi [...] turmoyle vvill comfort thee nothing, for thou wanderest accompanied by thy affections, and thy euils follow thee. Would to God they might follow thee, and were further off from thee: now thou bea­rest them on thy back, thou leadest them not. For which cause they euery way weigh thee downe, and feare thee with equall incommodities. The sicke man [Page 435] must seeke out for a good medicine, not for a new country. Hath any one bro­ken his leg, or put a member out of ioynt? He gets not to his coach, he embarkes not in his ship, but calleth for a Physitian, to the end he may vnite that which was broken, and set the ioynt in his place that was dislocated. To what end then thinkest thou, that by changing thy country, thou mayest heale thy brui­sed and broken minde in so many places? This euill is more great then to be cu­red by being carried hither and thither. Trauell neither maketh a Physitian no [...] an Orator. There is neither art nor science that is learned by changing place in this sort. What then, is not wisdome which is the greatest treasure of all others learned in trauels? Trust mee, there is no iourn [...]y that may retire thee apart from thy desires, thy displeasures, and thy feares, or if there were any, all m [...]n­kind by troopes would trauell and flocke thither. So long will these euils presse thee and macerate thee whilest thou wanderest by land and sea; as long as thou bearest the causes of thine euils in thee. Wonderest thou at this, that thy flight profit [...]th thee nothing. Why man, the things thou fliest are with the [...]. Mend thy selfe therefore, shake off thy burthens, and at least-wise containe thy desires within compasse. Roote all wickednesse out of thy minde, if thou wilt haue thy trauels delightfull, heale thy companion. Auarice will cling vnto thee as long as thou liuest with a couetous and base companion. Pride will clea [...] vnto thee, as long as thou conuersest with a proud man. Thou wilt neuer lay aside thy crueltie in a Hang-mans company. The fellowship of adulterors will en­kindle thy lusts. If thou wilt be discharged of vices, thou must retire thy selfe a farre off from all euill examples. Auarice, dissolution, crueltie, fraud (such enemies that approching thee, will wound thee grieuously) are within thee. Acquaint thy selfe with the better sort, liue with such as Cato, Laelius, and T [...] ­bero were: and if thou take a liking to liue among the Grecians, conuerse with Socrates and with Zeno: The one will teach thee how to die, if it be needfull, the other how to die before it be needfull. Liue with Chrysippus and P [...]sidonius: These will teach thee the knowledge of diuine and humane things. These will command thee to put in practise that which thou hast learned, and not to con­tent thy selfe with a polished tongue, which tickleth the eares of the hearers, but to fortifie thy heart, and to confirme it to confront casualtie. For the on­ly port of this troubled and turbulent life is to contemne those things that may happen, to remaine resolute to oppose a naked bosome against all the darts of aduersitie, without playing the coward, or seeking starting holes. Nature hath created vs valiant, and as to some creatures she hath giuen a feirce, to some a sub­till, to othersome a fearefull: so hath she giuen vs a glorious and high spirit, that seeketh where he may liue most honestly, not most securely; resembling the world, which in as much as humane abilitie will giue him leaue, hee followeth and counterfeiteth. He seeketh nothing but praise, and desireth to be seene. He is the loue of all things, and aboue all things. Hee therefore submitteth himselfe to nothing, nothing seemeth heauie vnto him, nothing that may make a man stoope.

Trauaile and death are vgly to behold.

Nothing so, if a man might behold them clearely, and breake thorow the dark­nesse. Many things that haue beene esteemed dreadfull by night, haue proued trifles and iesting sports by day. [Page 436]

Trauaile and death are vgly to behold.

Worthily wrote our Virgil, he saith that they were not terrible indeed, but in semblance, that is, they seeme so to be, but are not. What is there, say I, in these so dreadfull as fame hath reported them? What is there I pray thee (my Lu­cillius) that a man should feare either labour or death? Yet meete I with those men, that thinke all that impossible which they cannot doe, and say that wee speake greater matters then humane nature may sustaine or effect. But how farre better opinion haue I of them? They also can doe these things, but they will not. To conclude, whom haue euer these precepts failed that haue dained to make vse of them, who found them not more easie in action then in instru­ction? It is not because they are difficult, that we dare not; but because we dare not, they are difficult. Yet if you require an example, behold Socrates, that most patient man, tossed in so many dangers; inuincible in pouertie, which his do­mestique burthens made more grieuous and cumbersome, inuincible in those labours he suffered in warre, and wherewith at home he was daily exercised: whether you respect his wife fierce in manners, and froward in tongues or his rebellious and disobedient children, more like their mother then their father. So for the most part he either was in warre, or in tyrannie, or in libertie, more cruell then warres or tyrannies. Seuen and twentie yeares he bare armes, and hauing laid them aside, he saw his Citie enthralled vnder thirtie Tyrants, of which the most part of them were his enemies. The last of these is his con­demnation vrged against him for most hainous crimes. The violating of Reli­gion is obiected against him, and the corruption of youth, which [...]e was said to enforce against the gods, against parents, and his Common-weale. After all this, his prison and poison. So farre were these things from mouing Socrates minde, that they neuer moued his countenance. He maintained that his won­derfull and singular praise vntill his dying day. No man saw Socrates either more merrie or more sad, he continued equall in so great inequalitie of fortune. Wilt thou haue another example? Take me that Cato of Vtica, with whom Fortune dealt more cruelly, and more obstinately. Against which, whilest in all places he had made head; and last of all in his death: yet approued he that a confident and valiant man may liue and die in spite of Fortune. All his life­time was spent in ciuill warre. And although thou say that this man, no lesse th [...]n Socrates, spent his life in seruitude: except a man may happily thinke that Cneus Pompey, and Caesar, and Crassus, were confederates to maintaine libertie. There was no man that euer saw Cato changed in a Common-weale so often­times changed, in all occurrences he shewed himselfe one. In his Pretorship, in his repulse, in his accusation, in his prouince, in his speeches in the Armie, in his death; finally, in that garboyle of the Common-weale, when as on the one side Caesar had trusted his fortunes to ten valiant legions, on that side to the for­ces of so many forren Nations, and Pompey to his owne forces; when some en­clined vnto Caesar, other some vnto Pompey [...] Cato onely maintained leuied armes for common libertie. If thou wouldest imagine in thy mind the Image of that time, thou shalt see on the one side the people with listening eare, harkening af­ter nothing but noueltie; on the otherside the Senators and Knights and what­soeuer was either holy and chosen in the Citie: two onely left in the mid­dest, the Common-weale and Cato. Thou wilt wonder, say I, if thou shalt obserue. [Page 437]

ATRIDES graue, and PRIAMVS the olde,
And Troians greatest feare, ACHILLES bolde.

For he condemneth both, and disarmeth both; and this is his opinion of both: he saith, that if Caesar preuaile, he will die: if Pompey, he will be banished; what had he to feare which had decreed that against himselfe, eyther if he hapned to be eyther conquerour or conquered, which might haue beene decreed by his most bitter enemies; he died therfore by his owne decree. Seest thou that men can suffer labours? He led his armie on foote thorow the midst of the deserts of Africa. Seest thou that they may endure thirst? Leading the remainder of his conquered Armie along the desert hills, without any baggage, he suffered the want of drink, being soultered in his armor, and as often as occasion offered him water he was the last that drunke. Seest thou that honour and authority may be contemned? The same day he was repulsed from the office he stood for, the same day played he at the ball in the market-place. Seest thou that great mens power may not be feared? He opposed himsel [...] against Pompey and Caesar at one time; the one of which no man durst offe [...]d, except it were to win the fa­uour of the other. Seest thou that death may be as well contemned as banish­ment? He both pronounced exile and death against himselfe, & in the Interim warre. We may then haue the same resolution against all accidents, prouided, that we take a pleasure to discharge our necks of the yoake. First of all there­fore pleasures are to be despised, for they weaken, disable, and demaund much, and much is to be required at fortunes hands. After these riches are to be de­spised, which are the recompences of seruitude. Let golde and siluer, and what else soeuer loadeth happie houses be left: libertie is not bought for nothing, if thou highly prise her, thou must misprise and neglect all the rest.

EPIST. CV.

Short and profitable precepts, tending to securitie. Reade them, and make vse of them.

THou shalt know of me what those things are which thou art to obserue, to the end thou mayest liue more secure: yet so heare these precepts I aduise thee, as if I should counsaile thee how to maintaine thy good health in the bad aire of Adiatinum. Consi­der what things they be that prouoke one man to seeke another mans ruine, and thou shalt finde that they are hope, enuy, hatred, feare, and contempt; of all these contempt is the lightest, insomuch as many haue lien hidden therein for the safeguard of their liues. Whomsoeuer a man contem­neth, he kicketh at him, but passeth by him. No man purposely hurteth a con­temned person, no man diligently. Euen he that is prostrate on the earth in a conflict, is ouerslipped where he that standeth is assaulted. Thou shalt frustrate the hope of the wicked if thou hast nothing that may prouoke another mans wicked desire, if thou possesse nothing that is worthy the hauing. For those things that are of the greatest price, are most desired although they be least knowne. So therefore shalt thou flie enuy if thou makest no shew, if thou boast not of thy fortunes, if thou knowest how to enioy them to thy selfe. But as [Page 438] touching the hatred which proceedeth from offence, thou shalt auoide it thus by prouoking no man without cause, from whence common sense will defend thee, for this hath beene dangerous to many. Some men haue had hatred, but not an enemy. The meanes not to be feared shall be to liue in a mean and hum­ble condition, when as men shall know that thou art such a one, whom they may offend without perrill. Let thy reconcilement be both easie and certaine. But to be feared is as dangerous at home as abroad, by thy seruants as by thy children. There is no man that hath not power enough to hurt. Adde here­unto, that he who is feared, feareth. No man could be terrible securely. Con­tempt remaineth, the meanes whereof is in his power that is contemned, who is contemned because he would, not because he ought. The incommoditie here­of both good Arts doe dis [...]usse, and the friendships of those who are powerfull with any mightie man, to whom it shall be expedient for thee to apply thy selfe, not to entangle thy selfe with them, for feare lest the remedie cost thee more then the danger would. Yet nothing shall more profite thee, then to be quiet, and to conferre the least with many, the most with thy selfe. There is a certaine charming discourse, which creepeth into a mans bosome and flattereth, and no otherwise then drunkennesse or loue betrayeth secrets. Let no man conceale that which he hath heard, neither let any man speake as much as he hath heard: he that will not conceale the matter, will reueale the author. Euery one hath a friend to whom he trusteth as much as is trusted to himselfe. To content himselfe with one mans eares, and to set a watch before his lips, he shal addresse himselfe to the people; so that which now was a secret becommeth to be a ru­mour. It is a great part of s [...]curitie to doe nothing wickedly. Cholericke and reuengefull men leade a confused and troublesome life: they feare as much as they hurt; neither at [...]hy time are they in quiet, for they feare and are doubt­full when they haue done it. Their conscience suffereth them to doe nought else, and compelleth them oft-times to looke backe vnto themselues. Whoso­euer expecteth the stroake is chastised enough, and whosoeuer hath deserued punishment expecteth it. There is something in an euill conscience that may settle it awhile, but nothing that may secure it. For he thinketh that although he be not discouered, he may be discouered, and midst his dreams he is moued; and when as any other mans wickednesse speaketh, he thinketh of his owne, he thinketh it neuer sufficiently defaced or fully couered. A wicked man hath sometimes had the fortune to hide himselfe, but neuer had he assurance in his hiding.

EPIST. CVI.

An idle question, taken out of CHRYSIPPVS, Whether good be a body. In the conclu­sion somewhat against subtilties.

A Little too late I answere thy Letters, not because I am troubled with much businesse, for beware thou except not this excuse; I am at leisure, and all they that will are at leisure. Affaires follow no man, but men embrace them, and thinke businesse to be an argu­ment of felicitie. What therefore was the cause that I did not pre­sently write backe vnto thee, and answer thy question? It was a matter incident to my discourse; for thou knowest that I am determined to intreate of morall [Page 439] Philosophy, and to decide all those questions that depend thereupon. I there­fore doubted whether I should deferre thee, or giue thee an extraordinary satis­faction before I come vnto the place where this question should be handled. But I thought it a point of more humani [...] to delay him no longer, who sent from so farre: by meanes whereof, I will extract this out of the sequell of those things that depend one vpon anoth [...] and if any shall occurre of this nature, I will willingly send them thee, although thou requirest them not. Askest thou me what these be? Such things as the science therof is more pleasing then pro­fitable, as that is which thou bringest in question, Whether we call that good which is a body? I answer, that it is a body, for it acteth. That which acteth is a body; good agitateth the mind [...], and in a manner formeth and containeth it: so then the goods of the body are a body, and the goods of the soule are a bo­dy, and therefore the soule is a body. It must needes be that the good of a man is a bodie, considering that a man is corporall. I am abused if those things which nourish the body and keepe it, and restore it to health be not bodies. It followeth then that the good of a man is a bodie. I thinke thou wilt make no question of this, that affections are bodies, such as is cholor, loue, and sadnesse, (lest in this place I should be inforced to intermixe those things, whereof thou makest no question) if thou doubtest, consider if they change not the counte­nance, if they bend not the brow, if they smooth not the face, or prouoke not blushing, or inforce not palenesse: what then? Thinkest thou that so manifest notes are imprinted in the body without a body? If affections be bodies, and the sickenesses of the minde, such as are auarice and crueltie, such as are obsti­nate and incurable euils, mallice and all the kindes thereof, as malignitie, enuie, pride, shall be bodies likewise, and consequently good, first, because they are contrary vnto these; again, because they produce in thee the same offects. Seest thou not what vigour fortitude giueth to the eyes, how great intention pru­dence? how much modestie & quiet reuerence? what contentment ioy? what rigour seueritie? what remission mirth? They are therefore bodies which change the habite and colour of bodies, which exercise their dominion in them. Was it euer doubted but that meanes, whereby a bodie is touched is a bodie? F [...]r nothing can touch and be touched, except it be a bodie, as the Poet Lucretius saith. But all these things whereof I haue spoken would not change a bodie, except they touched the same, therefore they are bodies. I likewise say that that part of vs which is so powerfull that it pusheth, constraineth, stayeth and comman­deth is a bodie: what therefore? doth not feare restraine vs? doth not boldnes enforce vs? doth not fortitude harden and giue force? doth not moderation bridle and restraine? doth not ioy extoll? doth not sadnesse dismay? To con­clude, whatsoeuer we doe, we doe it eyther by the command of mallice or ver­tue. That which commandeth the body is a body, that which addeth force vnto the body is a body; the good of the bodie is a bodily good; the good of a man is the good of the bodie, and therefore is it corporall. Because as thou wil­ledst me I haue satisfied thy desire, now will I say that vnto my selfe which I see thou wilt say vnto me: we play at Tables, our subtilty is spent on trifles. These make not men good but learned. There is more plainenesse and simplicitie in true science. We need little learning to haue a good conscience. But as we in all other things are lauish in superfluities, so are we in Philosophy, and abuse it with babill. Euen as we are trauailed with intemperance in all things, so are we in good letters, we learne not to liue but to dispute.

[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]

EPIST. CVII.

He comforteth LVCILIVS, and animateth him vpon the flight of his seruants. That these and such like are incident vnto life, and therefore not to be reputed as sudden. Suffer that therefore which thou doest not [...]nd. A good and wise Epistle.

WHat is become of thy wisedome? Where is thy subtiltie in con­ceiuing things? Where is thy magnanimitie? Art thou trauelled with such trifles? Thy seruants thought that thy occupation [...] were the occasions of thy flight. If thy friends should deceiue thee (for let them haue that name which Epicurus gaue vnto them & be so called, what damage shouldst thou receiue? Thou wantest them who both interrupted thy good actions, and made thee troublesome vnto o­thers. There is no noueltie or vnexpected euent herein. It is as ridiculous a thing to be offended hereat, as to complaine that thou art eyther wet with wa­ter, or sprinckled with dirt as thou walkest in the streets. The same is our conditi­on in this life, as if we were in a bath, amongst a multitude of people, or in a great high-way, some things will be intermitted, some things will befall. It is no de­licate thing to liue. Thou art entered into a long way, wherein perforce thou must slip, thou must iustle, thou must fall, thou must be wearied, and thou must [...]xclaime, O death! that is, thou liest. In one place thou shalt leaue thy com­panion, in another thou shalt burie him, in another thou shall feare him; with such like inconueniences wee must performe and tread this troublesome iour­ney. Will he haue me die? Let our mindes be prepared against all accidents, let them know that they are come hether,

Where sorrowes and reuengefull cares doe sleepe,
Where sickenesse pale and weary age doe keepe.

In the company of these must life be led; thou canst not escape these, thou may­ [...]st contemne them. And thou shalt contemne them, if thou oftentimes bethink thee on that which is to come, and suppose it present. Whosoeuer hath of a long time prepared himselfe vnto any thing, he performeth the same with grea­ter courage; and if he hath premeditated any aduersities, he maketh head a­gainst them afterwards. Contrariwise, the man which is vnprepared starteth backe for feare vpon the least danger that presenteth it selfe. Let vs take order that nothing may befall vs, which may moue vs to say, I had not thought it. And because that nouelties are most distastfull, such continuall thought will bring to passe, that thou shalt not be apprentice to any aduersitie. Haue thy seruants forsaken thee? They haue robbed one, accused another, killed this man, betray­ed that, trampled vnder their feete and poisoned that man, and borne false wit­nesse against another. All those mischiefes which thou canst call to memorie haue befalne diuers, and will hereafter happen. The arrowes that are shot a­gainst vs are diuers and great in number. Some are sticking in vs, othersome are darted at vs, and approch vs neerely, and othersome there are which are shot at our neighbours, which doe no lesse grieue vs then if they were leuelled against our selues. Let vs not wonder at any accident whatsoeuer, we are borne there­unto, there is no man that hath occasion to complaine himselfe, because that all men haue their parts, yea their equall portion, for if any man hath escaped from [Page 441] an inconuenience, he might haue felt it. But an ordinance is equall vnto all those to whom it is proposed, although all men make not vse thereof. Let vs com­mand our soule to continue in her entire, and let vs pay those tributes which we owe vnto Nature without murmure. The Winter bringeth on frosts, wee be cold, the Sommer bringeth heats with her, we shall sweat for heate, the intem­perature of the ayre trieth our bodies; we shall be sicke. We shall meete in one place with a sauage beast, or a roarer worse then all beastes whatsoeuer. The one shall be drowned, the other brought to ashes. We cannot alter this condi­tion of things. That which we may is to haue a resolute heart, and worthy of a good man, by meanes whereof we endure all accidents constantly, and con­tent our selues with the order of Nature, which in this present gouernment causeth those reuolutions which thou now obseruest. After raine comes faire weather, after stormes and tempests succeed calmes and faire seasons. The winds blow the one after the other. We see one part of the heauens, and the other is hidden from vs. The world is composed of contrary elements. Let vs apply our soules vnto this law, let her follow and obey the same: let him thinke that all that which happeneth must happen, let her beware in any sort to taske Na­ture: it is good for thee to endure that which thou canst not amend, and to fol­low that great God without murmure or complaint, by whose prouidence all things come to passe. The Souldier is not good that vnwillingly followeth his Captaine. And therefore let vs obey her readily and willingly, without inter­cepting the course of so faire a life, as mans life is, in which is interlaced, all the euill which we suffer: and in conclusion, let vs speake vnto God, by whose or­dinance and direction all this round orbe is gouerned in the same termes, as our Cleanthes doth in elegant verse, which I will presume to translate into our tongue in imitation of Cicero, that thrice eloquent Orator. If they please thee, it shall content me; if they distaste thee, know that herein I am conformable vn­to Cicero. Heare then that which Cleanthes saith;

O soueraigne Father, and eternall Lord
Of highest heauens, conduct me at thy pleasure,
Vnto thy powerfull will I straight accord,
Make me not will, yet mourning without measure,
Ile waite vpon thee, and in being bad
Suffer all that, which if my minde were iust,
I might endure with all the strength I had,
Whither thou wilt, O God, I will and must:
I flie delayes, both heart and feete are willing,
The Fates conduct, the forward draw the willing.

Let vs liue thus, let vs speake thus, let the destinies finde vs alwayes addressed and willing. This courage that is thus bounded within the hands of God, is the greatest in all kindes. Contrariwise, that man is both faint and recreant that starteth backe, that complaineth him of the gouernment of the world, and that had rather censure the gods then himselfe.

EPIST. CVIII.

How are the Philosophers either to be read or heard with iudgement, and those things in especiall are to be chosen out of them, and put to memorie, which animate vs to good life. They that seeke delights studie in vaine; studie thou thy amendment. Neither is this hard to be done, for Nature her selfe inciteth vs vnto honestie, for the seedes and incitements thereof are in our mindes, they grow and encrease, when a learned teacher and animater doth aide. This proueth he by his owne example, when he was ATTALVS his scholler. Afterwards he sheweth that we come with diuers ends and mindes to reade Authors, and that we Philosophers should doe the like. Let vs obey him: both reade and heare you that are louers of learning.

THat whereof thou enquirest, is of the number of those things which it behoueth thee only to know, to the end that a man may say that thou knowest it; yet notwithstanding, since it is perti­nent for thee to know it, and thou pressest mee so instantly, and wilt not attend those books which I will shortly finish, that con­taine in good order all the part of Morall Philosophie, I will presently resolue thee, yet first of all will I write vnto thee how this desire of learning, wherewith I see thee thus transported, should be gouerned, for feare lest it hinder it selfe. Thou must neither ouer-runne, nor greedily inuade all Sciences; by parts we attaine the whole. The burthen must be fitted to the strength, neither ought we to embrace more then we are able to containe. Draw not as much as thou wilt, but as much thou mayest hold. Only haue thou a good courage, and thou shalt comprehend as much as thou pleasest. The more the minde receiueth, the more it is enlarged and greatned. These things, as I remember, our Master Attalus taught vs, when as we besieged his Schoole, and came first, and depar­ted last, and prouoked him, whilest he walked, to some disputes; not only ad­dressed to informe those that learned of him, but to meete with them vnpro­uoked. He that teacheth (saith he) and he that learneth should haue one and the same intention, the one to instruct, the other to profit. He that commeth vnto the Philosophers Schooles, must daily carrie away some good thing with him; either returne more wise vnto his home, or better disposed to wisedome. But he shall returne: for such is the power of Philosophie, that shee not onely helpeth those that studie the same, but those also which frequent her. He that commeth into the Sunne, shall be Sunne-burnt, although he came not to that end. They that sit downe in a perfumers shop, and haue stayed a while therein, beare away with them the odour of such a place: and they that haue conuersed with a Philosopher, must needs draw somewhat, that might profit euen those that are negligent: marke what I say, negligent, but not repugnant. What then? Know we not some men that for many yeares haue conuersed and frequen­ted with a Philosopher, without receiuing any tincture thereof? Why should I not know them? yea and such as were most industrious and diligent, whom I rather call the hostes, then the disciples of Philosophers. Some come to heare, not to learne, as we are drawne into the Theater for our pleasures sake, to de­light our eares with Orations, Musick, or Comedies. Thou shalt see a great part of the auditors that make the Philosophers Schoole the Inne of their idlenesse. Their intention is not in that place to dispossesse themselues of some vices, or to r [...]ceiue some instruction, or rule of life, whereby they might reforme their [Page 443] manners, but to enioy some delight that tickleth their eares. Some other there are that come to their [...]ables, not to coate downe matter, but words, which they learne as well without other mens profit, as they heard them without their owne. Some rowse themselues when they heare any magnificent speeches, and are affectioned no lesse then the speakers themselues, cheerefull both in lookes and minde: neither are they otherwise moued, then those effeminate French are wont to be, that hand and foote it according to the Phrygian straine; these men are rauished and prouoked by the beautie of things, not by the sound of vaine words. If any thing be spoken bitterly against death, if ought be vrged proudly against Fortune, thou art forthwith addressed to doe that which thou hearest. They are affected, and let them be such as they are commanded, if that forme remaine in the minde, and if the people, which disswadeth all honest things, doe not forthwith extinguish this worthy forwardnesse. Few are they that could bring home with them that minde they had conceiued. It is an easie matter to stirre vp a hearer to the desire of that which is right. For Nature hath giuen vnto all men the foundations and seeds of vertue, all of vs are borne vnto all these things, when as a prouoker inciteth our mindes, then are those goods of the minde, which were in a manner laid asleepe, awakened and reuiued. Seest thou not how the Theaters ring as often as some things are repeated, which we publikely acknowledge, and testifie to be true by consent.

Pouertie wanteth many things, auarite all things,
The couetous man is good to no man, and worst to himselfe.

The basest Broaker will applaud these vices, aud is glad to heare his owne vi­ces blamed. How much greater waight should these things haue, being spo­ken by a Philosopher, when as verses are interlaced with holesome counsels: thinkest thou not that they will more effectually worke in the minds of the vn­lettered. For (as Cleanthes said) euen as our breath yeeldeth a more cleare sound, when as the trumpet, after it hath driuen the same thorow the straits of a long pipe, doth at last giue him a larger vent at the end thereof, so the strict necessitie of a vice maketh our sences more cleare. Those things are heard more negli­gently, and perswade lesse powerfully, as long as they are deliuered in prose and ordinary discourse, but when as they are shut vp in numbers and good sence, be inclosed in certaine feet and cadences, that very sentence is darted and deliuered as it were an arrow from a strong arme. Many things are spoken in contempt of money, and in long orations we are taught this, that men should thinke that their riches are in their mindes, and not in their patrimonies, and that he is rich who fitteth himselfe to his pouertie, and maketh himselfe rich of a little. Yet are our mindes more moued [...] when such like things are spoken in verse.

He that coueteth little, hath not need of much,
He hath th [...]t which he would, who can wish as much as he would.

When we heare these or such like things, we are constrained to acknowledge the truth. For they to whom nothing is enough admire, applaud, and publish their hatred to many. When as thou seest this affection of theirs vrge the same, presse and prosecute this laying aside all ambiguit [...]e, syllogismes, cauil [...], and o­ther vaine subtilties of a fruitlesse braine, speake [...]gainst auarice, inueigh against dissolutenesse, and when thou perceiuest that thou hast profited, and moued [Page 444] the hearts of thine auditorie, prosecute it with vehemencie. It is impossible that such a discourse, tending vnto remedie, and intirely intended for the good of the assembly, should be other then profitable. For those minds that are not as yet obdurate may be easily induced to loue right and vertue. If truth finde a fit and conuenient aduocate, she easily seizeth on those that are willing to learne, and lesse peruerted. For mine owne part, when as I heard Attalus declaime a­gainst vices, errors, and the mischiefes of this life, I oftentimes deplored the mi­series of mankinde, and haue beleeued that he was exalted and raised aboue all other men. He said likewise that he was a King, but I thought him somewhat more, by reason that it was lawfull for him to censure Kings. But when he be­gan to praise pouertie, and to shewe that all that which exceedeth necessary vse is a superfluous burthen, and grieuous to him that beareth the same, I often­times wished to depart poore out of his schoole. When he began to traduce our pleasures, to praise a chaste bodie, a sober table, a pure mind, not onely exempted from vnlawful pleasures, but also superfluous, I required no more but to temper my appetite, and gouerne my belly. From thence I gathered some good instru­ctions my Lucillius: for with earnest affection I attempted all things, and being afterwards drawne vnto a Cittizens life, I haue conserued some few of those faire and good beginnings. From thence it came that for all my life time I re­nounced eie-sores & mushromes: for these are no meates, but entertain the ap­petite, and constraine those that are full to eate more, which is very pleasing to those that are gluttons, who desire no more but to fill their panches with such things which easily enter, & are as easily vttered. I haue abstained also euer since from oyntments and perfumes, because the best odour in our bodie is none at all. Thereupon haue I refrained wine, and during all my life time fled from bathing, supposing it to be an vnprofitable and nice custome to seethe the body and consume it with sweating. These other customes in life, which I had giuen ouer, are brought in request, yet so, that I keepe a measure in these from which I had abstained, and vse them very little and with difficulty, because there are certaine things more easie to cut off wholly, then to gouerne well. Because I haue begun to declare vnto thee with how much more greater courage I came to Philosophy being a young man, then now when I am olde, I will not be asha­med to confesse vnto thee what loue S [...]tion ingrafted in me in regard of Pitha­goras; he taught me why he and Sextius after him abstained from eating flesh. Each one of these had a different cause, but both of them were magnificent. The one supposed that man had sufficiency to feede vpon without bloud, and that a custome of crueltie began, when tearing of flesh was drawne to be a pleasure. Hereunto he added, that the matter of dissolution should be contracted and gathered [...] that multiplicity of meats were contrary to mans health, and nothing healthfull to our bodies. But Pithagoras held that there was a communion and consanguinitie of all things, with the one and the other, and that the one is changed into the other, in such sort that (if a man will beleeue him) no soule perisheth neither ceaseth but for a small time whilst it is infused into another bodie. We shall see by what reuolutions of seasons, and after how many a­boades in diuers bodies, the soule shall reenter into a man, meane while this o­pinion hath made men fearfull, for they haue beene afraid to become murthe­rers and paricides because that in eating of a beast they might as well seize on their fathers soule, and with knife or tooth offend a thing wherein the soule of any one of their kindred might be lodged. Sotion hauing proposed and confir­med this by his arguments, added hereunto, Doost thou not beleeue, saith he, [Page 445] that soules are distributed from one body to another, and that which we call death is no other thing but a passage from one body into another? Doost thou not beleeue that in these tame or sauage beasts eyther killed or drowned, there suru [...]ueth somtimes the soule of a man? wilt thou denie that nothing perisheth in the world, but doth but onely chang [...] ayre and countrey, and that not onely the heauens turne, but that liuing creatures and soules likewise haue their reuo­lutions? Diuers great personages haue beleeued these things, and th [...]refore holde thou thine opinion in suspence, yet keepe thou all things intire vnto thy selfe. If thes [...] things be true it is innocence to abstaine from liuing creatures: if they be false it is frugalitie; what damag [...] receiu [...]th thy cru [...]ltie h [...]reby? I take from thee the meate of Lions and Vultures. Perswaded thus by these ar­guments, I began to abstaine from flesh, and ere a yeare was finished, the custom was not onely easie vnto me but pleasing. I thought my spirit more free then it was before; neyther can I at this time iustifie vnto thee whether it were so or no. Doost thou aske me how I haue discontinued this manner of lif [...]? It was in my yonger dayes, at such time as Tiberius was Emperour, when as the Religi­ons of strangers were banished out of Rome, and to proue the superstitions of the same, they alleadged that they abstained from touching the flesh of some creatures. So then vpon my fathers request who feared not reproach, but ha­ted Philosophie I returned to my former custome: neyther was it a hard matter for him to perswade me to begin to sup better. Attalus was wont to praise a hard bed, and such as resisteth the body: such a one vse I now in mine olde dayes, wherein you cannot discouer any print where I haue lien. Th [...]se things haue I related vnto thee, to let thee know how vehement the first apprehensi­ons of yong children be, & how inclined vnto all good things, if any man exhort them or egge them forward. But in some kinde the teachers are deficient, who teach vs to dispute, and not to liue: in some sort the learners who bring vnto their Masters a purpos [...] not to rectifie their iudgments, but polish their tongues; so that which was Philosophie is mad [...] Philologie. But it is very pertinent to the matter to examin with what purpose thou addressest thy selfe to any thing. He that examineth Virgil to that intent he may become a Grammarian: he rea­deth not with this intent that worthy verse of his,

Time flies and neuer is to be recald againe.

You must watch: except we make hast we are forsaken. The day that swiftly fleeteth from vs, driueth vs forward and is driuen away. We are rauished before we know it. We dispose of all things as if we were to liue long time, and midst so many dange [...]s we are sluggards. But to obserue that as often as Virgil writeth of the swiftnesse of time, he vseth this word flyeth,

The better dayes of wretched mortall life,
First flie then sickenesse raignes, and irksome age,
And tedious labour rules and waxeth rise,
And lastly death sweepes all with mortall rage.

He that truely addicteth himselfe vnto Philosophie, applieth such sentences as befitteth him: neuer, saith he, that the dayes goe, but that they flie, which is the most swiftest kinde of running, and that the better times are rauished from vs first. Why therefore cease we to spur on our idlenesse, to the end we might outstrip the time which fleeteth away so swiftly. The better dayes flie away, [Page 446] the worse succede. Euen as out of a vessell the purest floweth out first, and that which is most heauy and troubled setleth in the bottome, so that which is first in our life is the best. We rather suffer others to draw out the purest, to the in­tent to reserue the dregges vnto our selues. Let this sentence be imprinted in our mindes, and pleas [...] vs as much as if it were an Oracle sent from heauen,

The best daies of wretched mortall life,
Fly first—

Why the best? Because that which remaineth is vncertaine. Why the best? Be­cause being young we may learne, and conuert, and addict our tender mindes, and pliable to the better, vnto the best: because this time is fit for labour, fit to exercise our wits in studie, and our bodies with labour. That which remaineth is more slowe and faultie, and neerer to the end. Let vs therfore wholly apply our selues th [...]reunto, and laying aside all these speculations, whereby we haue beene seduced, l [...]t vs apply our selues to one on [...]ly thing, for feare left at last we learne ouer late to our confusion, that it is impossible to stay and recouer the time that fleeteth away so fast, without hope of returne. Let euery first day please vs as if it were the best, and let vs reckon it properly ours, and let vs pre­uent that which ensueth. This doth not he thinke that reade [...] this verse with a Grammarians eye; that therefore euery fi [...]st day is the best, because sickenes­ses succeed, olde age presseth and pearcheth ouer the head of those, who as yet thinke themselues young; but saith, that Virgil alwayes vnited sicknesses and olde age together, and in truth not without cause, for olde age is an incurable di­s [...]ase. Besides, saith he, the Poet sirnamed olde age, irksome:

Then sickenesse raignes, and irksome age.

Wonder not that from the same matter euery man gathered that which is a­greeable to his conceit. In the same field the Oxe seeketh his grasse, the Dog his Hare, and the Storke his Lizard: when those bookes which Cicero wrote of a Common-weale, fall into the hands of him that would know all things, and of a Grammarian, & of a Philosopher, euery one of these three hath his proper and peculiar election & thought. The Philosopher wondereth that so many things may b [...] spoken against justice. When this loue-prattle comes to the same rea­ding, he noteth this, that there are Romane Kings, whereof the one had no fa­ther, and the other no mother: for each man doubteth which was Seruius mo­ther, and Ancus father, who was reputed Numaes Nephew, is not to be found. Besides, he obserueth that he whom we call Dictator, and is so intituled in Histo­ries, was by those in former times call [...]d the Master of the people, as it manifest­ly appeareth at this day in the bookes of the Augurs, and that he whom we call the master of the knights, hath taken his name from thence. He noteth likewise that Romulus died during the Eclips of the Sun, that there was an appeale from the Kings vnto the people, as also Fenestella holdeth that it is contained in the Registers of the Bishops. When a Grammarian explicateth the same books, he first of all noteth in his Commentarie that Cicero vsed this word Reapse for Reip­sa, that is to say, indeed, and Sepse likewise for Seipse, that is to say, himselfe. Then passeth he ouer to those things which the custom of the age hath changed, such are those which Cicero vsed, Because we are recalled by his importunity from the calce hereof, that is, frō the end of the course: for that which now we cal limits, those in [Page 447] times past called Calcem, that is to say, the heele or end of the foote. Aft [...]r this he gathereth Ennius verses, and [...]specially those which were written by Scipio the African,

To whom no friend or enemy in field,
Could lend that helpe which he to them did yeeld.

Hereby he saith that he meaneth that this word opera, that is to say labour in times past signified Auxilium, that is to say, ayde and succour: for he saith that there was not one eyther Cittizen or enemie could render Scipio the reward of his labour. Furthermore, he esteemeth himselfe happie to haue found out this why it pleased Virgil to say,

Ore whom the mightie gate of heauen did thunder.

He saith that Ennius stole this from Homer, and Virgil from Ennius. We reade in the same bookes of Cicero this Epigram of Ennius,

If it be free for any one t' ascend the heauenly throne,
The greatest gate of highest heauen is ope to me alone.

But for feare least I my selfe in thinking on other matters should my s [...]lfe be­come a humanist or Pedant, I say vnto thee that we ought to referre that which we heare spoken by the Philosophers, and that which we reade in their bookes to this end, that we become vertuous, and not to affect olde and fained words, nor to affect extrauagant and vnaccustomed manners of speaking, but let vs search out those precepts, which may profit vs, and such magnificent and man­ly sentences, which may be suddenly effected. So let vs apply th [...]se things, that those things which were wordes may be workes. But I thinke that no men doe worse deserue of mortall men, then they who haue learned Philosophy as it were some mercinarie occupation, who liue otherwise then they instruct other men to liue: for they themselues carrie about themselues, as examples of vn­profitable doctrine, being otherwise slaues to euery sort of vice which posses­seth them. Such a Master can as little profite me as a Pilot that is Sea-sicke in the midst of a tempest: when the billowes are increased the helme must be stee­red; we must striue with the Sea, and strike and hale in saile: what can a Master of a Ship helpe me that is astonished and vomiteth? With how more greater tempest thinkest thou is humane life tossed more then any ship? We are not to speake, but to gouerne. All that which they say, all that which they boast of before the common sort is to no purpose. Plato, Zeno, Chrysippus, Posidonius, and an armie of such Philosophers haue said and resaid it often. I will shew thee how they may approue these things to be their owne; let them act that which they said. Because I haue spoken those things which I would haue carried vnto thee, I will now satisfi [...] thy desire, and I will r [...]ferre the whole of that which thou requirest at my hands to another Epistle, lest hauing thy head wea­ried, thou bend thy attentiue and curious eare to heare a difficult matter.

EPIST. CIX.

A short question: Whether a wise-man may profite a wise-man, and how? The cause of doubt is, because that all things are high in a wise-man; neyther may any thing be ad­ded to him: yet answereth he that he doth profite, and distinctly approueth it. In the end he detesteth vnprofitable subtilties.

THou desirest to know whether a wise-man may be profitable to a wise-man: we say that a wiseman is replenished with all good­nesse, and hath attained to the fulnesse of perfection. The questi­on is how a man may profite him that hath attained the chiefest good. Good men profite one another; for they exercise vertue and containe wisedome in her estate, both of these require some man with whom he may conferre, with whom he may debate; vse execiseth those who are cunning in wrastling, and warneth the Musitian who hath learned vnisons. A wise-man like wise hath neede to haue his vertues stirred, so that euen as hee moueth himselfe, so is he moued by another wise-man. What can a wise-man pro [...]ite a wise-man? He will animate him, and shew him occasions of honest a­ctions. Besides these, he will discouer some of his own thoughts, and will teach those things which he hath inuented. For there will be alwayes somewhat re­mayning for a wise-man to [...]inde out, and whereon his minde may be employ­ed and occupied. An euill man hurteth an euil man, he maketh him worse by in­citing wrath or feare, by assenting to sadnesse, by praising pleasures; and euen then are euill men most trauail [...]d and troubled, when they haue made a mixture of many vices, and wickednesse becommeth compleate. Therfore on the con­trary side, a good man may profite a good man. But how sayest thou? He will bring him ioy, he will confirme his confidence, and both of their ioyes shall en­creas [...] by beholding their mutuall tranquilitie. Besides, he shall deliuer him the notice of some things: for a wise-man knoweth not all things; and although he knew them, yet may some man inuent more compendious wayes in things, and teach the same by which more easily the whole worke is compassed. A wise-man shall be pro [...]itable to a wise-man, not onely in regard of his owne forces, but in respect of his also whom h [...] helpeth. And he himselfe likewise b [...]ing left vnto himselfe can expresse his owne parts. Let him make vse of his owne swift­nesse [...] yet notwithstanding he helpeth him also that encourageth him that run­neth. A wise-man is not onely profitable to a wise-man but to himselfe. To this thou wilt obiect, Take from him his proper forces, and he doth nothing. In this sort thou mayst say that there is no sweetnesse in honey: for he that eateth the same must be apt both in tong and pallat to [...]ntertain this taste, that he may be delighted and not offended with the sauor thereof: for some there are to whom honey seemeth bitter in regard of their sickenesse. Both of them must be such, that both the one may teach, and the other be disposed to receiue in­structions. It were in vaine, saith he, to warme him more that hath beene hote to the extremitie, and as vaine is it to better him that hath attained the fulnesse o [...] goodnes. Doth a husbandman that is his crafts-master in tillage, seek [...] instru­ctions from another? Doth a souldier that is sufficiently armed to enter the [...]ield desire any further defence? Therfore not a wiseman [...] for he is sufficiently instru­cted and armed for life. He that is in the height of heat, had no need of heat to warme him: [...]urther, heat it selfe, saith he, containeth it selfe; To this I answer, [Page 449] first of all, there is a great difference betwixt these things which thou compa­rest. For heate is one, but to profit is diuers. Againe, heate is not encreased in heate by the adiection of heate. A wise-man cannot stand in the habit of his minde, except hee admit some friends like himselfe, with whom he may com­municate his vertues. Furthermore, adde hereunto that there is a certaine friendship betweene all vertues. He therefore profiteth that loueth any mans vertues that are equall with his, and giueth order also that his may be beloued: Those things that are alike doe delight, especially if they be honest, and know how to approue and to be approued. It is true, no other man but a wise man can cunningly moue a wise-mans minde, euen as no man may reasonably moue a man, except he be a man. Euen as therefore there needeth reason to helpe rea­son, so to moue perfect reason, there needeth perfect reason. They are said to profit vs that giue vs meanes, as money, grace, health, and other things which are necessarie and deere to the vse of humane life, in these euen a foole shall be said to profit a wise-man. But to profit and aide another is to moue his thought by his vertue, and according to Nature, or by the vertue of him that shall be moued. And this also cannot be done without his good that profiteth; for in ex­ercising another mans vertue, hee must needs exercise his owne. But that thou mayst remoue these things, which either are the chiefest goods, or the efficients of the chiefest: yet notwithstanding wise-men may profit amongst themselues. For it is a thing that of it selfe meriteth to be desired by a wise-man, to meete with another wise man, because that naturally a good thing is desired of his like, and a vertuous man acquainteth himselfe with another vertuous man, as wil­lingly as with himself. I must needs for argument sake passe ouer from this que­stion to another. For it is demanded whether a wise-man will deliberate, or de­mand counsaile of another man, which is necessarie for him to do, when he will entreat of ciull or domestical matters, or to speak more rightly, of mortal things. In this case he hath need of anothers coūsell, as of a Physitian, a master of a ship, an aduocate & proctor. A wise-man sometimes may be profitable to a wiseman, for he will perswade him. But in those great and diuine things also, as we haue said, he shall be profitable by ordinarily intreating of honest things, and by intermixing both their minds and thoughts. Besides, it is according to Nature, both to embrace friends, and to conceiue as much ioy of a friends good action, as of his owne. For if we doe not thus, vertue shall not remaine in vs, which in exercising her selfe taketh lustre by vse. But vertue perswadeth vs to dispose well of the present, to bethinke on that which is to come, to deliberate and in­tend the minde, and more easily shall he intend and explicate the same, who ta­keth and entertaineth another vnto him. He seeketh therefore either a perfect man, or one that profiteth, or is neere vnto perfection. But that perfect man will profit, if by common prudence the one helpeth the others counsaile. They say that men see more in other mens businesse then in their owne, and this be­falleth those men whom selfe-loue blindeth, and to those also, whom feare of danger driueth from all consideration of profit. The man that is assured and deliuered from feare, will recouer his courage and become wise. Yet notwith­standing there are some things, which euen they who are the wisest doe more diligently discouer in others then in themselues. Moreouer, that which is most sweetest and honestest, a wise-man will procure a wise-man to will and nill the same which hee doth. They shall beare together a worthie charge; I haue performed that which thou requiredst at my hands [...] although it were couched in the order of those things, which we haue comprised in our bookes of morall [Page 450] Philosophie. Bethinke thee of that which I haue tould thee often, that we doe but exercise and whet our wits vpon these questions: for oft-times returne I thither. What doth this thing profit me? will it make mee stronger, iuster, or more temperate? I haue yet no leasure to exercise my selfe, I stand in need of a Physitian. Why teachest thou me an vnprofitable Science? Thou hast pro­mised me great matter, but I see little. Thou saidst I should be dreadlesse, yea although swords glistered about me, although the point were readie to pierce my throate: thou saidst I should be secure, although I saw fires flaming about me, although a sudden whirle-winde should rauish and beare away my Barke thorow the whole Ocean. Doe thou thus much for me, that I may contemne pleasure and glorie, then shalt thou afterwards teach me how to resolue difficul­ties, distinguish ambiguities, and prie into those things that are obscure, now teach me those things that are necessarie.

EPIST. CX.

That each one of vs haue our GENII, which he hath fauourable vnto him, whosoeuer hath a good minde. That the vowes and iudgements of those men are wicked, who estimate not things according to their value. That vaine things are wished for, and vaine things feared, and that the remedie of both is from Philosophie, whereunto he summoneth vs, hauing shaken off superfluities. In conclusion, he discouereth excesse, and reproueth it by ATTALVS worthie speech.

I Salute thee from my house at Nomentanum, and will thee to haue a good minde, that is, all the gods propitious vnto thee, who are fauourable and well affected towards him, whosoeuer is reconciled vnto himselfe. Lay apart for this present, the opi­nions of some men, that euery one of vs hath giuen him a Peda­gogue or God, not of the ordinary, but those of the inferiour note, and of the number of those whom Ouid nameth popular gods. Yet so would I haue thee lay these things apart, that thou remember thy selfe that our predecessours, who haue beleeued these things, were Stoickes, for they attributed vnto euerie one his Genius, and goddesse Iuno. Hereafter we will examine whether the gods haue so much leisure to procure and prouide for particular mens affaires. In the meane while know thou this, that whether we are resigned to a seuerall Genius, or else neglected and giuen ouer vnto Fortune, that thou canst wish no man a greater mischiefe, then if thou shouldest desire that hee may bee his owne ene­mie. Neither needest thou wish any man, whom thou thinkest worthy punish­ment, to haue the gods displeased with him; for I tell thee they are auerse, al­though his life seemeth to prosper and flourish vnder their care and fauour. Consider and examine thou diligently what humane affaires be, not what they are called, and thou shalt know that more euils befall vs by our selues, then through the hand of casualtie. For how oft-times hath that which is called ca­lamitie beene the cause and beginning of our felicitie. How oftentimes hath a thing entertained with great applause, builded it selfe a degree from whence it may fall head-long, and hath raised some one high, that was alreadie eminent, as if he should as yet continue in this place, from whence he might safely fall? yet that falling, if thou consider the end, beyond which Nature directeth no man, hath not any euill in it selfe. The end of all things is at hand, it is at hand I say, [Page 451] as well that from whence a happie man is driuen by violence, as that from whence a miserable man is happily deliuered. Both these enlarge we, and make them long by feare and hope. But if thou beest wise, measure all things by hu­mane condition, and restraine the occasions that may make thee ioy, or make thee feare. It were better haue no ioy that endureth long, and not to haue a feare likewise that endureth long. But why do I thus restraine this euill? Thinke not that there is any thing that thou shouldest feare. These are but vaine things which moue and astonish vs, none of vs hath as yet examined the truth there­of, but each one hath taught the other to feare. No man hath dared to approch that which procured his feare, or know the nature and good of his own affright. And therefore it is, that a thing so fallacious and vaine is yet r [...]doubled, because no man disproueth or discouereth the same. Let vs onely bethinke our selues to open our eyes, and it shall presently appeare how short, incertaine, and secure things are feared. Such is the confusion of our mindes, as Lucretius descri­beth it.

For euen as in the blinde and darkest night,
Yong children quake for feare, and shake with fright,
So feare we likewise in the clearest light.

What then? are not we more foolish then children that feare at no one dayes? But this is false, Lucretius, wee feare not in the light, wee haue made all things darknesse to our selues: we see nothing, neither that which hurteth vs, nor that which helpeth vs; all our life-time we runne, and wander heere and there, yet for all this we neuer make stop, nor consider at any time where we fix our feete. And yet thou seest how furious a thing it is to run head-long in the darke, yet vndoubtedly we doe thus, to the end we may be recalled from a further off, and whereas we are ignorant whither we are carried, yet perseuere we to run swiftly thither, whither we intended. But if we wil that the day may breake, yet but af­ter one manner, that is, if a man receiue the knowledge of these humane and di­uine things, if instead of meerely sprinkling himself therewith, he taketh the tin­cture thereof, if although he know the same, he often debateth thereupon; and relateth it oftentimes to himselfe. If he haue sought what things are good and euill, and what things doe vnworthily challenge this title, if hee enquire what things are honest or dishonest, and what is prouidence: neither within these bounds is the quicknesse of humane vnderstanding circumscribed. She taketh pleasure to cast her eye beyond the world, to examine whither it is carried, whence it came, to what period so great a swiftnes of things hasteneth. From this so high contemplation haue we drawne our mindes into the consideration of sordide and base things, for to be slaues to auarice, so as ouer-slipping the earth and the bounds thereof, and the gods which gouerne and dispose all things, we haue employed the same in consideration of embowelling the earth, and not content with the goods which were offered, to search out what euill might be diggen out of it. Whatsoeuer is for our good, our good God and Father hath laid by vs. He expected not our inquisition, he gaue it freely, and buried those things that were hurtfull for vs in the bosome of the earth. Wee haue cause to complaine of none other but our selues. We in spite of Nature, and when she had closely hidden them, haue brought those things to light, which are the in­struments of our ruine. We haue dedicated our mindes vnto pleasures, the en­tertainment and allowance whereof is the beginning of all our mischiefes. We [Page 452] haue giuen it ouer to ambition and fame, and other things as vaine and fruitlesse as these. What therefore now doe I exhort thee to doe? No new thing, for we seek no remedies for new euils, but this, especially to consider in thy selfe, what thing is necessarie, and what superfluous. That which is necessarie, thou shalt finde euery where before thee, but as touching those that are superfluous, thou must alwaies runne after them, and thou shalt hardly finde them. Neither hast thou cause to praise thy selfe too much, if thou contemnest golden beds, and houshold-stuffe garnished with precious stones. For what vertue is it to contemne superfluities? Then admire thou thy selfe, when thou contemnest neces­sarie things. Thou doest no great thing, when as thou canst liue without King­ly entertainment, when thou desirest not wilde boares of a thousand pounds waight, nor the tongues of Phenicopteres, nor such other monsters of glutto­nie, which this day taketh no delight in whole beasts, but desireth and longeth after the leg of one, and the wing of another, and such and such members of an­other. Then shall I admire thee when thou contemnest not the brownest bread: if thou perswade thy selfe that herbes when necessitie requireth, do not only grow for the vse of beasts, but for the nourishment of man. If thou knowest that the buds of trees are sufficient to fill the belly, into which we gather so ma­ny precious things, as if it were a store-house to conserue them in, we must fill the same without loathing. For what skilleth it what it receiueth, since it must lose whatsoeuer it hath receiued. Thou takest pleasure to see a ranke of platters charged with fowle and fish. There are meates which please thine appetite, be­cause they are yong and tender: contrariwise there are others lesse sauou­rie vnto thee, if they be not so thicke and fa [...] as they melt in their grease. The very artificiall smell of these delighteth thee. But vndoubtedly these meats so carefully sought out, and so cunningly sauced, being swallowed downe into the belly, conuert themselues into ordure of the same colour, and stincke. Wilt thou contemne the voluptuousnesse of meates, looke vpon them in thy close­stoole. I remember that ATTALVS, not without the admiration of all men, was wont to say this: Riches, said he, haue oftentimes deceiued me, when I saw any peece of them shine heere or there, I stood in admiration to behold them. I thought that those which were hidden, were like those which were showen. But in a certaine Circensian show I saw all the riches of the Citie embolished with gold and siluer, and those things which exceeded either gold or siluer in price, exquisite colours, and garments that were brought not onely from ouer vttermost territories, but beyond the furthest confines of our enemies. On this side the troopes of children, seemely both in their habite and forme: on that side of women, and other things, which the fortune of the greatest Empire ha­uing sought out her greatest riches, had brought forth. What other thing is this (said he) then to irritate the lusts and desires of men that are too forward of themselues? What meaneth this pompe of money? We are assembled to­gether to learne auarice. But vndoubtedly I carrie hence lesse couetousnesse then I brought with me. I contemned riches, not by reason they were super­fluous, but because they were things of a small value. Seest thou not in how small a time this so mightie show passed ouer, although they marched but slowly, and were rancked orderly? Shall this which could not fill the space of an houre, occupie our whole life? He likewise added this. They seemed vnto me as superfluous to those that had them, as those that beheld them. I there­fore say thus to my self, as oftentimes as any such thing encountreth mine eyes, as often as I see a rich and sumptuous house, a rich guard of seruants, a Litter [Page 453] carried by goodly Lackeyes. Why wonderest thou? why art thou amased? it is but pompe. These things are showne, not possessed; and whilst they please they passe by. Rather conuert thy selfe vnto true riches, learne to [...]e content with a little, and with a great and manly minde exclaime thus; Let vs haue wa­ter, let vs haue barley steeped in water, and let vs contend with IVPITER himselfe for felicitie. Let vs, I pray thee, doe thus although these things be wanting. It i [...] a base thing to build a blessed life, eyther on golde or siluer, and as base to found it on water and steeped barley [...] what shall I therefore do if these things be mis­sing? Doost thou aske me what remedie there is against need? hunger endeth hunger, otherwise what importeth it if the things that make thee a slaue be great or little? What matters it how much it be that fortune may denie thee? This very water and steeped barley is at another mans command, but he is the free man, not ouer whom fortune hath the least power, but he ouer whom she hath no power at all. It is so. Thou must desire nothing if thou wil [...] prouoke Iupiter that desireth nothing. These things spake Attalus vnto vs, but nature crieth it in all mens eares, which if thou wilt oftentimes thinke vpon, thou shalt make thy selfe really, not seemingly happie, and in effect seeme such vnto thy selfe, and not vnto others.

EPIST. CXI.

He proueth that cauils are but a vaine and base kinde of Philosophie, and that that part which concerneth manners is true, firme, and sublimed. Counsailing vs to retire to that studie.

THou hast enquired of me what those things are called in Latine, which the Grecians call Sophismat [...] [...] many men haue endeuoured to expresse the same, but no man hath performed it; and the rea­son is, because the thing it selfe was not receiued by vs [...] neyther had in vse, and therfore likewise was the name of no account [...] yet that in my [...]udgement was the most fittest which Cicero vsed, who called them Cauillationes, that is to say Cauils; to which whosoeuer addicteth himselfe, he forgeth subtile questions, yet doe they profite him nothing vnto life, neyther is he made the stronger, more temperate, or more lifted vp. But he that hath exer­cised Philosophy for his owne remedie sake is made mighty in mind, ful of con­fidence inuincible, and more great the neerer he approcheth the same. That which falleth out in the greatest mountains, whose height appears l [...]ast to those that behold them from a farre, and the neerer you approach them, the more manifestly appeareth it what their immeasurable height is: such, my Lucilius, is a true and no count [...]rfeit Philosopher; he standeth in a high place, admirable, vpright, and truely great. He raiseth not himselfe on his feete, neyther walketh on his tiptoes, after the manner of those that helpe their height by shift, and would seeme [...]onger then they be, he contenteth himselfe with his greatnesse. Why should he not content himselfe, since he is growne so farre, as fortune rea­cheth not her hand vnto him [...] and therefore is he aboue all humane things. He is alwayes like himselfe in all things that may happen, whether the Nauigation of his life floateth vnder a prosperous winde [...] or be tossed by stormes and ad­uerse dangers. This constancy these cauils (of which I haue spoken a little be­fore) cannot affect. The minde dallieth with these, but profiteth not he cas [...] ­eth [Page 454] Philosophy from her throne, and bringeth her vnto the plaine; neyther would I forbid thee to practise these things sometimes, yet let it be then when thou wouldest doe nothing, yet haue they this one cursed qualitie in them, they leaue a certaine touch of delight behinde them, and possesse and arrest the mind that is induced by the appearance of subtiltie; mean while, infinite and impor­tant affaires remaine behinde, and scarcely may our whole life suffice to learne this one thing, which is how to contemne life. What to gouerne it sayest thou? This is the second worke: for no man euer well ruled it except hee contem­ned it.

EPIST. CXII.

He despaireth the reformation of his friend, olde in yeares and vices.

VNdoubtedly I desire that thy friend according to thy wish should be both formed and instructed; but he is held ouer-hard, or rather (which is more troublesome) he is held ouer tender, and broken by euill and daily customes. I will yeeld thee an example out of the husbandry I professe: It is not euery Vine that is fit for graft­ing; if it be olde and worme-eaten, if it be weake and slender, eyther it receiueth not the young plant, or nourisheth it not, or it will not ioyne with it, neyther wil communicate his qualitie and nature to the same. We therefore are accusto­med to cut it aboue the ground, to the end that if it faile, a man may assay ano­ther experiment, and set him once more into the earth. This man of whom thou writest, and whom thou recommendest, hath no forces. He hath beene in such sort addicted vnto vices, that he is both dryed and indurate. He cannot receiue or nourish reason, yet is he desirous. Beleeue him not: I say not that he lieth vnto thee, he thinketh he desireth. He is angry with the excesse he hath made, yet will he shortly fall in league with it againe. But he saith that he is offended with his life: I will not denie it; for who is not offended? men both loue and hate their liues. Then therefore will we giue our iudgement of him, when he hath approued vnto vs that his excesse is hatefull vnto him; but now they are greatly at oddes.

EPIST. CXIII.

He questioneth whether vertues be liuing creatures. He stoically affirmeth that the vices and affections are no lesse. Then preferred he a dispute, that were ridiculous in th [...]se dayes. He disswadeth vs from such like, and summoneth vs to th [...]se things that are profitable to life.

THou desirest me to write vnto thee what I thinke of this question so much canuassed amongst Stoicks, whether justice, fortitude, prudence, and the rest of the vertues are liuing creatures. By this subtilty, my deerest Lucilius, we giue occasion to some to thinke that we whet our wits about vnprofitable things, and that we lose our time in such disputes as serue to no purpose. Yet will I do that which thou desirest, and expresse vnto thee what the opinion of our Stoicks is; yet protest [Page 455] I that I am of anoth [...]r opinion. I thinke there are some things that be [...]ome those that weare the [...]at and cloke amongst the Grecians. I will therefore tell thee what the reasons were which moued antiquitie. It appeareth that the soule is a liuing creature, considering she is the efficient cause whereby we are a­nimated: and for that liuing creatures haue der [...]ued this name from her. But vertue is nought else then a soule possessing her selfe in some so [...]t, it is therefore an animall. Againe [...] vertue doth something, but nothing can be done without motion; if she hau [...] motion, which none hath except it be a liuing creature, she is a liuing creature: and if she be a liuing creature, then vertue containeth vertue in her selfe, why not? she hath her selfe. Euen as a wise-man doth all things by the assistance of vertue, so doth vertue by her selfe: & th [...]rfore s [...]ith he, all Arts, and all those things which we thinke, and whatsoeuer we comprehend in our mindes are animals. It followeth therefore that in those narrow breasts of ours there inhabiteth diuers thousands of animals, and that euery one of vs are ma­ny animals, or containe many animals in our selues. Askest thou me what is an­swered hereunto? Each one of these things shall be an animall, and no [...] diuers. The reason? I will tell it thee, if thou wilt heare me patiently & attentiuely [...] all animals ought to haue each of them a proper substance: all animals haue one soule [...] they cannot therefore subsist euery one, neyther can they be diuers. I am an animall, and a man, thou wilt not therefore say that I am two. Why? To make them two, they ought to be seuered the one from the other. Euery one of diuers sorts hath but one nature, and therefore is but one. My soule is an animall, and I my selfe am one also; yet for all this are we not two. Why? By reason that my soule is a part of me. Then shall any thing be numbred by it selfe, when it consisteth by it selfe, but when it is a part and member of ano­ther, it cannot seeme to be another thing. And why? I will tell thee. Because that which is another must be his own, and properly his owne, and wholly his owne, and absolute within it selfe. I haue declared that I was of another opini­on: for not only shall vertues be animals if this be admitted, but those vices and affections which are opposite vnto them likewise, such as are wrath, feare, sor­row and suspition. And yet this thing shall proceed further, all sentences, all thoughts shall be animals, which must in no sort be admitted. For euery thing that a man doth is not a man; what is justice, saith he? A soule that possesseth her selfe in some sort: if therefore the soule be an animall, justice is an animall. Nothing so: for this is a habite and certain power of the soule. The same soule is conuerted into diuers figures, and yet is not the soule an animall, so often­times as it changeth thus; neither is that which the soule doth an animall. If justice, magnanimity and those other vertues be animals, I demaund of thee if sometimes they cease to be, or if they begin againe, or if they be alwayes? Ver­tues cannot cease to be vertues, therfore many liuing creatures are animals, nay, more innumerable animals are in this soule. There are not many (saith he) but this is but one soule assembled of diuers, which are the members and parts of one. By this reckoning we represent vnto our selues such a forme as the Hydra [...] which hath diuers heads, each one of which fighteth and hurteth by it selfe. But none of those heads is an animall but the head of an animall, yet is she but one animall. No man said that in Chimera the Lion was an animall, or the Dra­gon; these are the parts of him, but the partes are not animals. Where doost thou gather that justice is an animall? It acteth, saith he, somewhat and profi­teth. But that which doth somewhat and pro [...]iteth, and hath force and moti­on [...] Ergo, that which hath force and motion is an animall. True it is, if it haue his [Page 456] owne force and motion, but it hath not his owne force and motion, but that of the soule. Euery Animal vntill it die is that which it began to be. A man vntill he die is a man, so likewise a horse and a dogge, for they cannot passe into ano­ther forme and substance. Iustice that is the soule which possesseth it selfe in any sort, is an Animal. Let vs beleeue it. Moreouer, Magnanimitie, that is to say, the soule in any sort mistris of her selfe, is an Animal. What soule is that? That which euen now was Iustice, is inclosed in the first Animal, and cannot passe into another Animal, but must remaine in him where she began to be. Furthermore, one soule cannot be in two liuing creatures together, much lesse in many. If Iu­stice, Magnanimitie, Temperance, and those other vertues be Animals. How can they haue but one soule, it must needs fall out that euery one hath his own [...] else cannot they be Animals. One body cannot be the body of diuers Animals. What is, saith he, the bodie of Iustice, the soule, and of magnanimitie also; but one bodie cannot be the bodie of two Animals. But some one will say, that one and the same soule hath taken the habitude of Iustice, magnanimitie and tem­perance, This might be, if at such time as Iustice was in vigor, magnanimitie was not, and when value was, temperance was not. But all vertues are toge­ther. How should these be different Animals, since there is but one soule, which can make but one Animal. Furthermore, no Animal is a part of another Ani­mal. But Iustice is a part of the soule, it is not therefore an Animal. Truely in my iudgement, it is but lost time to contest vpon a matter that is granted, wee should rather be angry thereat, then dispute thereupon. No Animal is a part of another. Consider all mens bodies, and there is not one of them but hath his particular colour, forme, and proportion. Amidst other miracles, which make the wisdome of God the Creator admirable, I esteeme this to be one, that a­midst so many things that are created, the one resembleth not the other, and as touching those that are like one another, yet will there be some difference found, if thou curiously obserue the same. He hath made infinite sorts of leaues distinguished the one from the other by some speciall marke. Infinite and dif­ferent Animals, yea euen those which are of the same kinde, doe not in euerie part resemble one another. The Creator hath required and obtained this of himselfe, that these Animals of different kindes should not resemble one ano­ther, either in forme or proportion. Thou sayest that all the Vertues are like one another, and therefore they are not Animals. There is not any Animal but doth something of it selfe. But Vertue doth nothing by her selfe, but with a man. All liuing creatures are either endowed with reason, as men and gods, or depriued of reason as beasts are. Vertues are endowed with reason, and yet for all that, they are neither gods nor men, and consequently they are not Ani­mals. Euery reasonable liuing creature doth nothing, except it be first incited and pushed forward in regard and consideration of something: this stirreth the [...]am [...] and then consent stirreth this motion. As touching Consent, see heere [...] it is. I must walke out, I set forward, after I am commanded so to do, and [...]uing found it good. I must sit downe, and then I sit. This Consent is not in Vertue. Presuppose that Prudence is a liuing creature, how should she consent? I must of necessitie set forward, Nature opposeth her selfe against this point, for Prudence prouideth not for her selfe, but for him that is endowed with her, which cannot go nor sit downe, and therefore hath no consent. That which is depriued of iudgement and consent, is not a liuing creature endowed with rea­son. If Vertue be a liuing creature, she is a reasonable liuing creature. But she is a reasonable liuing creature: Ergo, no liuing creature. If Vertue be a liuing [Page 457] creature, and vertue be a good thing, euery good thing is a liuing creature. The Stoickes auow this. It is a good thing for a man to saue his fathers life, to speake materially and to the purpose, his opinion in publique assembly, to giue a sen­tence according to the lawes, by this reckoning to saue a mans father, shall be a liuing creature, and to thinke and debate well, another. In briefe, this Paradox will seem [...] so great in the end, that a man cannot containe himselfe from laugh­ter. To know how to hold a mans peace in time and place, to sup well is a good thing, and therefore to hold a mans peace, and to sup well, are liuing creatures. I will not cease to tickle my selfe, and make me pleasure by these follies. Truly if Iustice and Magnanimitie be liuing creatures, they are terrestriall, euery ter­restriall liuing creature suffereth cold, hunger and thirst. So Iustice hath a cold, Magnanimitie is hungry, and Clemencie drie. Moreouer, I would willingly aske of these Doctors, if these liuing creatures haue the figure of a man, of a horse, or of a sauage beast. If they attribute vnto them a round forme, as they doe vnto God, I would aske of them, whether couetousnesse, riot, and folly are round? For these likewise are Animals, if they be round. I would desire them further to let me know, if to walke discreetly be a liuing creature or no? They must of necessitie confesse that it is a liuing creature of a round forme. But to the end thou mayest know that I speake by my booke, and that it is not my priuate opi­nion which I heere doe publish. Cleanthes and his scholler Chrysippus are not one in opinion, as touching this walking. Cleanthes saith that it is an agitation dis [...]persed from the head vnto the feete. Chrysippus is of another opinion: why then according to Chrysippus example cannot any man maintaine that which he shall iudge to be the best, and laugh at the number of these Animals, so great, as the world would be too little to containe them. The Stoicks say that Ver­tues are not diuers Animals, and yet notwithstanding that they are Animals, e­uen as one man is an Orator and Poet, so are Vertues Animals, and not diuers liuing creatures, but one onely. The soule that is iust, prudent, and couragious, is one and the same, being in some sort in possession of her selfe, in euery one of the vertues. The dispute ceaseth, we are agreed, for I confesse that the soule is a liuing creature, referring it to another place to speake my opinion as touching the same. I deny that the actions of the soule are liuing creatures, otherwise all the words, and euery Poets verses should be liuing creatures. For if a word well spoken be a good thing, and euery good thing be a liuing creature, the word shall be a liuing creature. A verse that is well made is good, that which is good is called an Animal, and consequently a verse shall be an Animal: and so

Arma virumque cano,

Is an Animal, which cannot for all that be round, because it is a verse of six feet. All this is but meere Sophistrie, which being well examined makes me readie to swound with laughing, when I remember that a Solecisme, a Barbarisme, and a Syllogisme is an Animal, and I depaint euery one of them such a forme as best liketh me. These things dispute we with loftie lookes and bended browes. I cannot in this place refraine to exclaime in this sort with Lucilius, O hatefull follies. They are ridiculous. But why manage we not rather some matters that may make vs better! Why search we not out the meanes to attaine vnto vertue, and the way that may leade vs thereunto? Breake not my braines in teaching me whether Magnanimitie be a liuing creature, but learne me that in this world there is not any liuing creature found that is happie, except hee bee [Page 458] magnanimous, except he be resolute against all accidents, if in his thought hee hath not ouercome all aduersities before he felt them. Magnanimitie is the im­pregnable fortresse of humane infirmitie, whosoeuer is inclosed therein, he re­maineth assured in this beleagring of life. For he vseth his owne strength and his owne weapons. In this place I will set downe vnto thee the notable saying of the Stoick POSIDONIVS, Neuer thinke thy sel [...]e assured with the armes of Fortune, combate against her with thine owne. Casualties doe not arme vs. They therefore that are armed against their enemies, are disarmed against aduersitie. Alexander spoiled and put to flight the Persians, the Hircanians, the Indians, and all those Nations that inhabit the extent of the East Countries vnto the sea. Notwithstanding he himselfe hauing slaine one friend and lost another, lay groueling in a darke chamber detesting his wickednesse, deploring his losse, and this conquerour of so many Kings and Nations, was ouercome by choler and sorrow. For all his endeuours were aimed to this end, to master all other things except himselfe. O how blinde are men, who desire to make their Scepters passe beyond the seas, who thinke themselues happy if they conquer diuers countries and Prouinces by their souldiers, and ioyne new to the old, not know­ing that the greatest Empire, and that which is wholly conquered, is to com­mand a mans selfe. Let them teach mee how sacred a thing Ius [...]ice is, that it is a vertue that is carefull of another mans good; that seeketh not commodities or aduantages to her selfe. That she hath no alliance with ambition and vaine-glorie, but pleaseth her selfe. Before all things let euery one perswade himselfe this. It behoueth me to be a good man, without hope or desire of recompence. This is a small matter, let him adde more: I am commanded to employ my selfe wholly and freely in the studie of vertue, in such sort as all my thought is as much as in me lieth, to be driuen from the consideration of my priuate profit. Studie thou not whether the reward of vertue, is more great then vertue it selfe. Fix thou that likewise in thy minde, which I haue touched heretofore, it skilleth not whether thy vertue be knowne to few men, or to many. He that wil haue his vertue published, laboureth not for vertue, but for glory. Wilt thou not be iust without glory? But vndoubtedly thou must be iust with infamie, and then, if thou art wise, an euill opinion well gotten doth delight.

EPIST. CXIIII.

He teacheth that eloquence is otherwise different, and pleasing, euen as publike manners are seuere, dissolute and broken. He proueth that they take that colour from the mind, and that by MAECENAS example, and therefore that that is to be cured and for­med, from whence proceedeth sence, and consequently direct words. By the way he argueth against dissolutenesse [...].

THou askest mee why and whence it commeth to passe, that the speech is corrupted in some times, and why mens minds are incli­ned to certaine vices, so as sometimes a swelling discourse was ap­plauded, some other times sounding & deliuered after the maner of a song. Why other whiles men tooke pleasure in long & conti­nued periods, other whiles in abrupt sentences & suspitious, in which more is to be vnderstood then heard. Why then was some age that immodestly vsed a figu­ratiue discourse. The reason is this which thou hast commonly heard, and the Greekes haue made their prouerb, of such is mens speech as is their life. But as euery mans actiō is answerable to his speech, so somtimes the kind of discourse [Page 459] imitateth publike manners. If the discipline of the Common-wealth hath been depraued, the effeminate manner of language is an argument of the disso­lution of all estates: I speake of that language which is vsuall amongst all men, and not of that, which some one or two vse. The soule and vnderstanding can­not be of two colours. If the soule be whole, composed, graue, and well tempe­red, the vnderstanding also is sober and moderate. If the one be corrupted, the other is affected. Seest thou not, that if the mind languish, the members are wea­kened, and the feet hardly moued? And if it be effeminate, how the infirmitie thereof appeareth euen in the walking? How if it be watchfull and forward, the body doubleth his pace, and if it be furious, or (that which is next to furie) be angry, how all the body trembleth, and how they go not, but are transported? How much more befalleth the vnderstanding thinkest thou, which is wholly intermixed with the soule, which formeth the same, bringeth it in action, and gi­ueth it a law? In what sort Maecenas liued, it is better knowne, then that it nee­ded to be expressed at this time, how he walked, how dainti [...] he was, how desi­rous to be seene, how vnwilling that his vices should be vndiscouered. What then, was not his discourse as dissolute as his life? Had he not as much affectation and vanitie in his speech, as in his equipage, then in his traine, then in his house, then in his wife? He was a man of great vnderstanding, [...]ad [...]e not tracted a worser way, had he not affected obscuritie, had he not ouerflowed in his dis­course. Thou shalt therefore see the eloquence of a drunken man enfolded, ex­trauagant and full of libertie. Behold Maecenas in his manner of speech. Quid turpius amne siluis (que) ripa comantibus? Vide vt alueum lintribus arent, verso (que) vad [...] re­mittant hortos. Quid si quis faeminae cirro crispatae & labris columbatur? Incipit (que) suspi­rans vt ceruice laxa feriatur. Nemo tirāni irremediabilis factio rimantur, epulis lagaenae (que) tentant domos & saepe mortem exigunt. Genium festo vix suo testem tenuis [...]erei fila & crepacem molam [...] Iocum mater & vxor inuestiunt. Wilt thou not suddenly remember, as soone as thou readest this, that this is the sp [...]ech of such a man, who alwayes trauersed Rome streets in his loose-gowne. For euen then when in Caesars absence he executed his office, hee deliuered the watch-word in this habit. Thinke that it is the same man, that in the Pallace, in the Tribunall du­ring the time of Orations, in all assemblies of these people alwaies presented himselfe, hauing his face muffeled in his cloake, without discouering any thing but his eares, as they are accustomed to doe, who flie and will not be knowne, according as they are represented in Comedies. Hee it is that in the greatest height of ciuill warres, at such time as Rome was in armes and in feare, mar­ched thorow the streetes, attended by two Eunuches, yet more men then him­selfe. He it is that hath had but one wife, and notwithstanding hath been ma­ried a thousand times. These words aboue written so badly builded, so negli­gently disposed, so repugnant to the manner of all mens writings, shew that his manners were no lesse new, then particular and depraued. Hee hath beene highly prised for the sweetnesse of his nature, in that hee neuer bare armes, or euer tooke pleasure in shedding bloud, or did any thing, except that which the libertie of the time or his credit might permit him. But all this good reputation of his hath beene soyled by the affectations of this his monstrous manner of language: for in this it manifestly appeareth that hee was ra­ther a milke-soppe then mercifull. These obscurities in [...]is composition, these ouerth wart vvords, these conceits oftentimes: loftie, but without pith, discouer vnto him that will obserue the same, that too much felicitie had trou­bled his head, a vice which is sometimes found in the man, sometimes in the [Page 460] time. When as repose and felicitie produceth and soweth dissolution on euery side. First of all, a man beginneth more carefully to dresse and adorne his bo­die. Afterwards his studie is to haue rich moueables, consequently he bethin­keth himselfe of stately buildings, to make them more large, to enrich the walls with Marbles fetched from beyond seas, to embolish the roofes with gold, that the beautie of the pauement be answerable to the richnesse of many beames. Then transferreth he his daintinesse to the magnificence of his table, and there searcheth he glorie in noueltie, and changing the accustomed fashions amongst our predecessors, so that those things which were wont to bee serued in last at supper, are brought in first, and those things that were presented to those that entered to the feast, are giuen to those that depart from it. After that mans minde was accustomed to loath that which was in vse, and things that are ordi­narie were accounted contemptible: he goes and seekes out a new language, re­uiuing and renuing vnusuall and forgotten words, then forgeth he new, and re­grateth the vnknowne: that which is but newly found out is reputed elegant, and figuratiue translations are audacious and frequent. Some thinke to credit themselues by speaking to the halfes, and abbreuiating their speech in such sort, as he that heareth knoweth not what to thinke. Other there are that delate and draw them out, some there are that draw not vnto the vice (for he must needs, that vndertaketh any great thing to doe the same) yet such as loue the same. Wheresoeuer therefore thou seest that men take delight in an obscure and cor­rupt speech, hold thy selfe assured that their manners are depraued. Euen as ex­cessiue banquets and superfluous rayments are witnesses that the Common-weale is sicke, so this libertie in coyning new tearmes and words (if so be the custome be continued) sheweth that the spirits of those that speake thus, are entangled and lost. Wonder thou not in any sort, that this corruption is as plea­sing to the mightiest, as to the meaner sort, for the greatest and the poorest dif­fer not in iudgements, but in their pompe and estate. Rather wonder thou that men praise the effects of vices, and the vices themselues. For this hath beene alwaies done: there was no pleasing wit that had not his pardon. Giue me what­soeuer man thou wilt of greatest name, and I will tell thee wherein the age wherein he liued pardoned him, and what they willingly dissembled in him. I will reckon thee vp many, whose vices harmed them not, and some, whose er­rors profited them. I will, I say, let thee see some of great renowne, and repu­ted most excellent men, whom if a man will censure, he confoundeth them. For so are their vertues intermixed with their vices, that the one do necessarily draw the other after them. Adde hereunto that language hath no certaine rule. The publike custome which changeth it incessantly, altereth it from yeare to yeare. Some men borrow words from another age. They vse the stile of the Lawes written in the twelue tables. Gracchus, Crassus, and Curio are ouer new for them, they returne as farre as Appius and Coruncanus. Some other contra­riwise, that will haue nothing which is not vulgar and triuiall, speake very bare­lie. Both of them are corrupted in a diuers manner so much certainlie, as if they would vse pompous wel-sounding and poeticall words, and flie those that are necessarie and in vse: I will say that as well the one as the other doth amisse. The one esteemeth thēselues more then is necessary, the other mispriseth thē ­selues ouer much; the one pull the haire frō their legs, the other not from their arme pits. Let vs passe ouer to cōposition, how many defaults may I discouer to thee? The one allow of a crabbed and harsh discourse, they disturbe a smooth and pleasing stile: no period is pleasing to them, if it be not harsh and rough: [Page 461] they repute that manly and strong which affecteth the [...]are with inequalitie. The other in stead of speaking, seeme to sing, so fl [...]ttering and so fluent is the structure of their wordes. What will you say of that where the words are de­ferred, and after we haue attended them long time [...] hardly returne they vnto their clauses? What shall I say of that which in the issue is moderate (as is that of Ciceroes and falling and ending afterwards sweetly, and answerable to the fashion; and hath his ending answerable to the manner and foot. There is not onely an errour in the kind of sentences, if eyther they are too weake and chil­dish, and more proude and bolde then modestie will permit, but they are too flourishing and sweet, if they be deliuered in vaine and without any effect, they doe no more but sound. These vices some one man bringeth in, whose elo­quence in that time is applauded, the rest doe imitate him, and the one deliue­reth it to the other. So when Salust was in request, the sentences were curt [...]lled, and wordes had their vnexpected cadence, and obscure breuitie with the rest was reputed elegancie, Aruncius a man of rare frugalitie, who wrote the Hi­storie of the Carthaginian warres, was a Salus [...]ian, and an excellent man in that kinde. There is an SALVST, Exercitum argento fe [...]it: that is to say, he made an armie with siluer; that is, he assembled an armie with money. This did Arun­cius, he planted it in euery page: he saith in a certaine place, Fugam nostri fecere, that is to say, our men made a flight: and in another place Hiero King of Syracu­sa, Bellum facit, maketh warre: and likewise in another place, Quae a [...]dita Panormi­tanos dedere Romanis fecere, that is to say, which things being heard, they made that the Inhabitants of Panormus rendred themselues to the Romanes [...] I thought good to giue thee a little taste. All this whole booke is composed of words. Those wordes that were rare in Salust are vsuall in him, and almost continued: and not without cause; for the one lighted on them by chance, the other sought for them. But thou seest what followeth him that taketh an er­rour for an example: Salust said, Aquis hiemantibus, whilst the waters wintered. Ar [...]ncius in his first booke of the Carthaginian warre, saith, Repente hiemauit tem­pestas, that is to say, the tempest suddenly wintered. And in another place, when he would say that the yeare was colde, he saith, Totus hiemauit annus, that is [...] the whole yeare wintered. And in another place, Inde sexaginta onerarias leues pr [...] ­ter militem, & necessarios nautarum hiemante aquilone misit, that is, whilst the Aqui­lon wintered, he sent from that place sixtie ships of small burthen, besides the Souldiers and necessarie Marriners. He neuer giueth ouer in all places to foist in this word. In a certaine place Salust saith, Inter arma ciuilia aequiboni famas pe­tit, that is, amidst ciuill armes he sought the renowne of a man good and iust. A­runtius tempered not himselfe, but presently in his first booke he inserted this, Ingentes esse famas de RE [...]VLO, that is, that the renownes of Regulus were great. This therefore and such like vices, which imitation hath impressed into any tokens of dissolution, or a corrupt minde. For they must be proper and conceiued by the vnderstanding, by which thou oughtest to estimate any mans effects. The speech of a cholericke man is hastie, and violent of a man that is moued to much stirring, of a delicate and ciuill man smooth and pleasant, which thou seest those men follow that eyther pull and trim their beards, that cause their mustachios to be cut short, that shaue their vpper lips very neere, and suf­fer the rest to be as long as is possible, that weare their cloakes of an euill colour, and gownes of pure stuffe, who will doe nothing but that which is seene pub­liquely, although they offend and displease the whole world. But they care not to be reproued, prouided, that they be beheld. Such is Mecaenas discourse and [Page 462] all others else, which erre not casually but willingly. This errour proc [...]edeth from an euill conscience. Euen as in drunkennesse the tongue faltereth not, ex­cept reason be obscured or betrayed: so this maner of speech (which is a meere drunkenesse of the spirit) is tedious to no man, except the vnderstanding of him that speaketh be shaken. Therefore we ought to heale the same, for from it the discourse, the words, the countenance, the regard, the marching is deriued; if it be whole and strong. The language is robust, strong and manly: contrari­wise, if it be deiected all the rest grow to wracke,

The King in health then all mens mindes are one,
The King once lost then all mens faith is gon [...].

Our minde is our King if it be safe, the rest continue in their duetie, they obey and are gouerned, if he be neuer so little shaken, they droope with him. But when he giueth place to pleasure, his Arts and his actions also doe decay, and all his forces are feeble and fraile. Because I haue vsed this similitude I will perse­uer. Our minde is now a King, now a Tyrant: a King when he beholdeth and aimeth at honestie, maintaineth the health of the bodie committed to his charge, and commandeth no filthy or sordid thing: but when he is cholericke, couetous and delicate, he assumeth a detes [...]able and direfull name, and is called Tyrant. Then doe impotent affections lay holde of him, and sollicite him in­cessantly, and in the beginning of those that most presse him seeme to yeelde him pleasure; such as the people is accustomed to reioyce at when a tyrant ma­keth them any larges to intrap them: but this abundance is vaine vnto the vn­derstanding, which manageth that which he cannot dis-jest, when the sickenesse hath consumed his vigor more and more, and delights haue stolne into his nerues and marrow, the vnderstanding being ioyfull to behold these things (the vse whereof is vnprofitable to him, because he hath ouer-earnestly desired them) for the satisfaction of his delights, he enioyeth the sight of this or that, he is witnesse and vnder seruant of other mens lusts, being depriued of all delights of the same, because he is ouer-plunged therein: in briefe, the abundance of worldly pleasures in stead of conceiting him consumeth him, when he sees him­selfe depriued of the meanes to let downe by his throate into his belly all the pleasant morsels he beholdeth, and to tumble himselfe basely amidst the troop of ba [...]des and harlots, he wonderfully grieueth because he is falne from the greatest part of his felicitie, hauing so straight receipt in a bodie so little. Is not this a true furie, my Lucilius, that none of vs thinketh that he is mortall? That we are insensible euery way of our infirmity? yea, that each one supposeth him­selfe to be more then one. Behold our Kitchins, and our Cookes trauersing from one fire to another; wouldest thou thinke that for the refection of one on­ly belly so much stirre should be made? Behold our Caues and Cellers repleni­shed with the vintages of many ages; thinkest thou that it is for one belly that the wines of so many Consuls and Countries are stored vp? Behold in how ma­ny places the earth is turned vp, how many thousands of husbandmen plough and digge the same; thinkest thou that it may seeme to be for one belly that Si­cily and Africa are sowed? We shall be healthfull and desire little, if euery one of vs numbreth himselfe, and measure his body likewise, and know that it ney­ther can receiue much, nor containe it long; yet is there nothing that will teach thee better to keepe a measure in all things, then an ordinarie meditation of the shortnes and vncertainty of this life, whensoeuer thou doost look backe vn­to death.

EPIST. CXV.

He argueth against those that are too curious in their discourse and stile, and saith it is a token of a weake minde; alleaging that we ought to speake and write confidently with­out affectation of ornament, and rather expresse in our minde. O what a one is he when vertues haue adorned him? He will draw all men into admiration of him, if he might be seene. But this externall beautie is eyther false or nothing worth: as like­wise golde and money are, which wee so much admire. These make not men happy or secure, nay, rather miserable and to be pittied.

I Will not haue thee too curious, eyther in thy wordes or compo­sition, my Lucilius, I haue greater matters for thee to care for, and thinke vpon. Seeke what thou shouldest write, and not how; and in stead of busying thy selfe about wordes, cause thy selfe to haue a feeling of the substance thereof in thy heart, to the end thou mayest apply the same more and more, and as it were seale it in thy selfe. Whomsoeuer thou seest that vseth an affected and laboured kinde of speech, thinke that he hath his spirit occupied about vaine things. A vertuous man speaketh more remissely, but more securely: whatsoeuer he saith, hath more confidence in it then curiositie. Thou knowest diuers young men well barbed and frizeled, who seeme as if they newly came out of a boxe; expect thou no­thing eyther firme or generous from such kinde of men. The speech is the I­mage of the minde: if a man mince it, disguise and polish it ouer curiously, it is a signe that he which speaketh it, is an hypocrite, and little worth. It is no manly ornament to speake affectedly. If it were lawfull for vs to prie into the soule of a good man, O the faire, O the holy, O the magnificent, gratious, and shining face which we should beholde! their iustice, their fortitude, their temperance, their prudence giue lustre on euery side. Furthermore, frugalitie, continence, pa­tience, libertie and courtesie, and that rare, and as it were incredible ornament in a man, that is to say humanity, would reflect their light vpon them. Further­more, how much grace, grauity, authority, discretion and magnanimitie (which is the highest of all other vertues) would annex themselues vnto the rest. No man would count him amiable that would not terme him venerable, if any one had seene this face more heauenly and resplendent then mortall eyes are accu­stomed to behold, would he not step backe, being stroken with astonishment, as if he had met with some God? Would he not pray in his heart that he might contemplate the same? Then approching more neere, allured by the sweete­nesse of his eyes, would he not humbly kneele downe before her. And hauing aduisedly considered it, how farre more excellent it were and incomparable a­boue ours, with a gratious regard, yet sparkling and filled with liuing light, whol­ly rauished with zeale and amase, would he not crie out with Virgil,

O by what stile faire Virgin shall I striue
To set thee forth? for thine vnequal'd eyes
Are mere then mortall, and thy words reuiue
Farre more then humane eloquence implies,
Liue happy, and vouchsafe vs of thy grace,
And end those toyles which haue our life in chace.

Shee will assist and comfort vs, if we will honour her, but she is not honoured or [Page 464] serued by the offerings of fat slaughtered and sacrificed Bulls, nor by golde, or siluer hung vp in the Temple, or by presents cast into her treasure; but by a right and holy affection. There is not any man, as I haue said, that would not be inflamed with her loue, if we could attaine to see her. For now there are ma­nie things that hinder and dim our eyes, and dull them by their brightnesse, or detaine them in obscuritie. But euen as certaine medicines doe clense and shar­pen the sight; so likewise if we will take away those impediments that darken the eyes of our soules, we may behold vertue, although couered with a body, although pouertie, base condition, and infamie be as many couerts to conceale her from vs; although this beautie be clouded by an obscure thing, yet shall we espie it. Contrariwise, we shall discouer from a farre the malice and stupidi­tie of a miserable soule, although that riches doe abundantly shine and muster about her, and that in regarding her we haue our eyes dazeled with the false light of power and honours, Then may wee learne that which wee admire is contemptible in all sorts, and that we resemble little children, that thinke euery trifle of great value; for they preferre their little bracelets, scarce worth a peny, before their fathers, mothers, or brothers. What difference then is there betwixt vs and them, saith Ariston, but that we are madding after pictures and statues more costly foolish? They are delighted with little partie coloured stones, that haue some varietie in them, which are found vpon the Sea shore, and we with pillars of Iaspe and Porphirie, brought from the sands of AEgypt, or the deserts of Africa, to sustaine som porch or som dyning chamber to feast the Commons in. We wonder at the walls that are couered with thin marble, and yet we know what that is which is hidden, and we cousen our owne eyes. And when we guild all the roofs of our houses, what other thing reioice we in but in coun­terfeit? For we know that worme-eaten wood lyeth hidden vnder that golde: neyther is it onely on our walls and house-beames that we bestow this light or­nament, but remember thy selfe also that the felicitie of all these great men whom thou seest march so proudly, is but a felicitie guilded on the out-side, and a simple leafe. Obserue and thou shalt see, that vnder this thin skin of humane greatnesse, there is abundance of miserie and filthinesse. Those riches which at this day raise men to greatest magistracy & place of justice, haue bewitched the hearts and senses of the same men; and since mony hath growne in request, the true honour of things is made no reckoning of: and being become buyers and sellers both at once, we aske no more what this is, but of what worth this is? In this traffique we are sometimes good, and sometimes euill. As long as there is any hope of profite about vertue wee follow her: if vice promise vs better ad­uantage we runne after it, and are for those will giue vs most. Our fathers and mothers haue made vs admire golde and siluer; this couetousnesse being sow­ed in our tender soules, hath taken deepe roote, and is growne with vs. Againe, all men that in all other things are of different opinions, accord in this point of auarice, euery one embraceth the same, desireth that his may haue a part, & pre­tending to shew himselfe gratefull to the gods, hee presenteth them with siluer and golde, as the most excellent thing in the world. Finally, mans life is brought to that passe, that pouertie is held for a hatefull thing, and full of contempt, neg­lected by the rich, hatefull to the poore. Then haue the Poets annexed their inuentions, which are as it were matches to kindle our affections in praysing ri­ches as the onely honour and ornament of this life, and that the immortall gods seeme to haue nothing better, neyther can giue any thing more exquisite. One of them speaking of the Pallace of the Sunne, saith [Page 465]

The Pallace of the Sunne, most seemely to behold,
Was rais'd on pillars of the purest gold.

Behold how he describes his Chariot.

The axeltree, the beame, the outward bends,
That arme the wheele, were all of burnisht gold,
The spoakes of siluer.—

To conclude, they call that the golden age, which they would haue reputed for the best. Amongst the Tragique Poets, there are some that preferre profit before innocence, health, and good opinion.

Let me haue wealth and riches to be giuing,
Account thou me the wretchedst miser liuing;
All men enquire, if he be rich or no,
But no man learnes what goodnesse he doth owe.
They aske not why, or whence, but what thou hast,
And onely that, so each man is reputed
As he is landed, monied, and suted.
Ask'st thou me what is loathsome to possesse,
Nothing; for getting doth disgrace redresse.
I either wish to liue in rich estate,
Or die in pouertie, contempt, and hate:
Full well dies he, that dying getteth gaine,
Mony the greatest good of humane straine:
The mothers comfort, and the infants pleasure,
The sacred parents are but toyes to pleasures,
In VENVS face nothing so sweetly shines
As mony doth, nothing her power confines;
The gods themselues are by her presents mou'd,
And mortall men her sight haue euer lou'd.

When these last verses of Euripides Tragedie were pronounced, all the people arose with great tumult, to fling out both the Actor and the Author, till Euripi­des himselfe stepped forth into the middest of them, beseeching them to haue patience, and they should see what end he had that so much admired gold. In this Tragedie Beler [...]phon receiued the chastisement, which euery one receiueth in himselfe. For no auarice is without punishment, although shee her selfe be punishment enough of her selfe. O how many teares and toyles exacteth shee at their hands that serue her, how miserable shee is both to those that gape af­ter her, and to those that haue got her. Adde hereunto the continuall cares which torment euery man, according to the measure of that he hath: mony is possest with greater torment then sought. What bitter sighes are vented from the hearts of couetous men, if they haue any losses, which sometimes are great, and seeme also to be greater. Finally, although Fortune take nothing from them [...] yet all that which escapeth their fingers, is as much as lost vnto them. But men say such a one is happie and rich, and desire to haue as much goods as hee. I confesse it. What then? Thinkest thou that any are in worse case then those [Page 466] which haue both miserie and enuie. I could wish that they who desire riches, should consult and take counsell of rich men. I could wish that they who affect honors, should confer with ambitious men, and such as haue gotten the height of dignitie, they should vndoubtedly change their vowes, which they doe also making new wishes, and consequently condemning their former wishes. For there is no one man that contenteth himselfe with his felicitie, although shee posted forward to finde him. They complaine themselues of their designes and successe, and had rather haue that which they left behinde. But Philoso­phie will giue thee content, which is the most great good thou canst imagine, thou shalt neuer repent thy selfe. To this so solide felicitie which no tempest may shake, apt and chosen words, neither a sweete and flowing stile will bring thee. Let words passe as they may, prouided that thy soule be in his entire, that it be great, and deliuered from errors, pleasing vnto it selfe, by reason of those things that are displeasing vnto others. Who estimateth his aduancement by his action, and iudgeth that hee knoweth so much, as he neither desireth nor feareth.

EPIST. CXVI.

Against the Peripatetickes, that affections are to be cut off, not tempered, neither that they are induced by Nature. That the aduerse opinion proceedeth from effeminate­nesse.

IT hath oftentimes beene demanded [...] whether it be better to haue moderate affections, or none at all. The Stoicks expell them which are tempered and moderated by Peripateticks. For mine owne part I see now how a sicknesse may be moderate, healthfull or profitable. Feare thou not, for I will haue none of those things taken from thee, which thou wilt not haue denied thy selfe. I will make my selfe facile and indulgent to those things which thou pretendest, and that either thou esteemest necessarie, profitable, or pleasing to thy selfe. I will only take from thee the vice. For when I forbid thee to desire, I permitte thee to will, to the end that resolutely and aduisedly thou mayest doe what thou pleasest, and that thou mayest taste the sweetnes thereof the more. Why not? For they will come the more vnto thee, if thou command them, then if thou serue them. But thou wilt say that it is naturall for a man to lament the death of his friend, that we ought to giue time to a sorrow so iust. That it is naturall to be touched with the opinions of men, and to be sorry in aduersities, that it is not reasonable to extinguish the honest apprehension of a danger. I answere, that there is no vice which findeth not an aduocate, and whose beginning is not fitting and excusable [...] but that it is which giueth him the meanes to extend it selfe euery wayes. If thou suffer it to begin, thou shalt neuer be able to make it end. In the beginning each affection is feeble, but afterwards he inciteth him­selfe, and getteth forces in his progresse, he is more easily excluded then expel­led. Who denieth, but that affections flow, as it were, from a certaine naturall beginning. Nature hath committed the care of our selues to our selues, but when thou art too indulgent thereof, it is a vice, Nature hath intermixed plea­sure with necessarie things, not that we should affect the same [...] but that the ac­cesse thereof, should make those things more pleasing to vs, without which we [Page 467] cannot liue, if of it selfe it come not, it is dissolutenesse. Let vs therefore make head against affections which enter: because, as I said, they are not entertained so easily as they depart. Permit me in such a measure to be sorrowfull, in such a measure to feare: but that measure becommeth without meane, and endeth not there where thou wilt. It is safetie for a wise-man not to keepe himselfe o­uer carefull, and let him when he listeth arrest his teares and his pleasures. And because it is not easie for vs to retire, it is the better that we set not forward at all. Me thinkes that Panaetius answered very fitly to a yong man that asked him, Whether a wise-man might loue. As touching the wise-man (saith he) wee will thinke vpon it, but in regard of thy selfe and me, we are yet farre distant from the perfection of a wise-man. Let vs keepe our selues carefully, lest we become slaues of a thing turbu­lent, impotent, vnder the power of another, contemptible to it selfe. For if she eye vs, his humanitie incited vs, and if she despise, we burne in despite. The loue that is gratious is as hurtfull as that which is rigorous: by his facility we are entang­led, and with the rigor we striue. Since then we know our owne weaknesse, let vs be quiet; neither let vs trust our infirme mindes to wine, to beautie, or flatte­rie, nor to any other attraction and flattering things. That which Panaetius answe­red of loue to this yong man, that say I of all other affections. Let vs reclaime our selues, as much as in vs lieth, from slipperie places, and let vs securely stand assured in the drie. Thou wilt propose vnto me in this place, that reproach which all the world vrgeth against the Stoicks: you promise ouer great matters, you command that which is as it were impossible. We are poore and infirme men, who cannot in this sort cut off all things, we will weepe but a little. Wee will couet but temperately, if we enter into choler, it shall be pacified. Wilt thou know why we cannot command our affections? It is in this respect, because we beleeue that it is impossible for vs. Yea, but vndoubtedly there is another matter in it, we defend our vices because we loue them, and we had rather ex­cuse them, then discusse them. Nature hath giuen vs force enough, if we will make vse thereof, if we will gather our forces, and employ them wholly for our selues, and not against our selues. We pretend that we cannot, but the cause is that we will not.

EPIST. CXVII.

A question, whether since wisdome is good, it be good to be wise. The Stoicks com­monly deny the same: some affirme; and he is more inclined to their opinion. In con­clusion, he impugneth these vnnecessarie matters [...] and seriously exhorteth vs to re­forme our manners.

THou wilt trouble me much, and thy selfe likewise, and ere thou art aware thrust me into great strife and trouble, who proposest mee such short questions, in which, without offence, I dare not differ from the Stoicks, neither can I consent with a safe conscience. Thou enquirest of mee whether it bee true which the Stoickes maintaine, that wisedome is good, but to be wise is not. First of all will I ex­pound what the Stoicks thinke, then dare I boldly discouer my opinion. It is the opinion of our sect, that that which is good is a bodie, because that which is good acteth. But each thing that hath action is a body. That which is good profiteth, but he must doe somewhat, to the end he may profit, and if it [Page 468] doth, it is a bodie. They say that wisedome is good, it followeth then of ne­cessitie that it is corporall. But they thinke that to be wise is not of the same condition. It is a thing incorporall and accidentall vnto wisedome, and there­fore it cannot produce any action, neyther profite any wayes. But say we not it is good to be wise? We say so in relation to that whereon it dependeth, that is to say, to wisedome it selfe. Before I begin to retire my selfe, and to vnite my selfe with the contrary parties, heare that which some Stoicks answere vnto the rest. After this manner say they it is no good thing to liue happily: will they, nill they, they must answer that a blessed life is good, and that to liue blessedly is a good thing. Moreouer, it is opposed against those of our sect, Will you be wise? Therefore it is a thing to be desired to be wise: if it be a thing to be desi­red it is good. The Stoicks are constrained to wrest wordes, and to require the interposition of one syllable, which our speech permitteth not to be insert­ed, I will if thou wilt suffer me annex the same: That, say they, is to be desired which is good to be desired, which is contingent vnto good, which good when wee haue attained it, is not required as good, but is an accession to the good that is required. I am not of this opinion, and I iudge that the S [...]oickes a­gree with mee herein, because the first point bridleth them, and they can­not lawfully change the manner of speech: wee are wont to attribute much to the common and vniuersall opinion of men. Amongst vs it is a testimonie of truth, if it be alleaged that all men beleeue that which is in question. As for proofe that there are goddes, wee alleage that the be­leefe that there are gods is ingraffed and planted in all mens minds; neyther is there any Nation how brutish soeuer, that beleeueth not that there are gods? When we dispute of the eternity of soules, the concent of men eyther fearing hell, or reuerencing the same, hath no small moment and authority. I vse this publique perswasion, thou shalt [...]inde no man who thinketh not that both wis­dome and to be wise is good. I will not doe as they are accustomed that are o­uercome, who seeing themselues in danger to lose their liues, appeale vnto the people, we will begin to fight with our owne weapons, whether is that which happeneth vnto any man without or within him to whom it happeneth? If it be in him to whom it happeneth, it is as well a bodie as that to which it happe­neth: for nothing can happen without touch, and that which toucheth is a bo­die. If it be without after it hath happened it departeth: that which retireth his selfe hath motion, and whatsoeuer hath motion is a bodie. Thou hopest that I will say, that the course is not one thing, and running another; neyther heate one thing, and to be hote another; neither light one thing, and to shine another. I graunt that there is a diuersitie in these things, but I say that the one are not of a different condition from the other. If health be a thing indifferent, to be in health is a thing indifferent: likewise, if beautie be indifferent, to bee beautifull is indifferent: if justice be good, to be iust is good: if villainy be euill, to be a villaine is euill. As much assuredly as if lippitude be euill, to haue pur­blinde eyes is euill. That thou mayest know this, can the one be without the other? To be wise is wisedome, and it is wisedome to be wise. So farre is it from breeding doubt, that the one resembleth the other, that som men suppose that they are one and the same thing. But I would willingly aske this question; Since all things are eyther good, or euill, or indifferent, in what ranke To be wise, shall be placed? They denie that it is good, and euill it is not; it followeth then that it is indifferent: but that repute we to be meane and indifferent that may as well befall an euill as a good man, as money, beauty, and abilitie. But to [Page 469] be wise cannot befall any but a wise-man, and therefore it is not indifferent. An euill it is not that cannot betide an euill man, & therfore it is good [...] it is, saith he, the accident of wisedome. This therefore which thou termest To be wise, whe­ther maketh it wisedome or suffereth it? Whether it doth make it or suffer it, in both kindes it is a bodie; for both that which is made and that which maketh is a bodie: if it be a body it is good. For this one thing was deficient in it, and detained it from being good, which was, because it had no bodie. The Peripa­tetiques holde that there is no difference betwixt wisdome and to be wise, when as the one is comprehended in the other. For thinkest thou that any man is wise except he that hath wisedome? And thinkest thou that wisedome accom­panieth him that is wise? The ancient Logicians distinguished these things, and from them this diuision came vnto the Stoickes. What this is I will tell thee: The field is one thing, and to haue possession of the same another. Why not, when as to haue the possession of the field appertaineth to him that hath the field, and not vnto the field? So wisedome is one thing, and to be wise another. I thinke thou wilt grant me this, that these are two; that which is had, and hee that hath the same: wisedome is had, he that is wise hath it. Wisedome is a per­fect minde, or that which attaineth the fulnesse of perfection; for she is the act of life. What is to be wise? I cannot say a perfect minde, but that which befal­leth him that hath a perfect minde. So the one is a good minde, the other as it were to haue a good minde. There are, saith he, diuers natures of the body: as for example; this is a man, that a horse: these natures likewise are followed by the motions of the minde, which make shew of the body. These motions haue something proper and considered apart from the bodies, as I see Cato walking; this doth the sense shew, the minde beleeue. It is a bodie that I see, on which I haue fixed both mine eye and my mind. I say afterwards Cato walketh, I speake not now of his bodie, but of something denounced of the body, that is to say, of his motion, which some call pronounced, some signified, other some denoun­ced. So when we say wisedome we vnderstand some thing that is bodilesse: when we say he is wise, we speake of the body. But there is a great difference whether thou speakest this or of that: for the present, let vs put the case that wisedome and to be wise are two things; for as yet I publish not my opinion, what hindereth both the one and the other to be good? Thou saidst a little be­fore that the field was one thing, & to possesse the field was another. Why not? for he that possesseth the same is in one nature, and that which is possessed is another, the one is a man, the other is a fielde. But in this whereof we now make question, wisdome and to be wise are things of the same nature. Further­more, the field that is possessed is one thing, and the man that possesseth the same another; but wisedom and to be wise are found in one and the same man. The possession of the field comes by right, that of wisedome comes by nature. A man may alien the field, and giue it vnto another man, wisedome neuer de­parteth from him that possesseth the same: we must not therefore compare things that are vnlike. I began to say that both these may be two, and yet both of them good. Wisedome and a wise-man are two, and by thy confession both of them are good. But euen as nothing hindereth but that wisedome is a good thing, and he he that hath wisedome is good, so nothing hindereth but that wisedome is good, and to haue wisedome, this is to be wise and good. I will be a wise-man to this end that I may be wise. What therefore? Is not that good without the which the other is not good? Vndoubtedly, you say that wisedom if it be without vse is to be esteemed as nothing. And what is the vse of wise­dome? [Page 470] To be wise. This is that which is most precious in her, which being ta­ken from her she is but meere illusion: if torments be euill, it is euill to be tor­tured, yea in such sort that if a man were neuer tormented, he should neuer con­sequently haue any torments. Wisedome is a habitude of a perfect vnderstan­ding; to be wise the vse of a perfect mind: how can the vse thereof be good, which without vse is not good? I aske thee whether wisedome is to be desired? Thou confessest it. I ask thee whether the vse of wisdom is to be desired? Thou confessest it, protesting likewise not to receiue the same if a man will barre thee of the vse thereof: that which is to be desired is good, to be wise is the vse of wisdom, as the vse of eloquence is to speak, the vse of the eye to see; but the vse of wisdome is to be desired, Ergo, to be wise is a thing to be desired, and if it be to be desired it is good. I condemne my selfe for times past, for following those whom I accuse, and for implying arguments in a thing that is manifest. For who can doubt but that extreme heate is euill, and to be extremely hote is euill; and that if colde be euill it is an euill thing to be colde? If life be good, that to liue is good? All these things that are about wisedome are not in the same, but we are to stay our selues vpon her, and if we will discourse she hath ample and spa­cious retreats to conuerse in. Let vs enquire of the nature of the gods, of the nourishments and diuers motion of the Planets, whether our bodies be despo­sed according to their reuolutions, or whether their influences haue a hand in all mens bodies and mindes: whether those things which are called casuall are tyed together in a certaine order, and if nothing be done in this world without some speciall prouidence. But these things haue no relation to the present reformation of manners, yet mount they the minde, and raise the same to the greatnesse of those things they intreate of. But those disputes whereof I spoke a little before, doe diminish and depresse the same, neyther as thou thinkest doe they whet but dull the same. But why, I beseech you, imploy wee so necessary a care reserued for greater and better things, in a thing if not meer­ly false, yet truely vnprofitable? What shall it profite me whether wisedome be one thing, and to be wise be another? What shall it auaile mee to knowe whether this be good, or that be badde? At all aduentures see what I desire; I wish thee wisedome, and my selfe that I may be wise, so shall wee be both e­quall. Rather doe this that thou mayest shewe mee the way how I may at­taine vnto these. Tell mee what I must eschue, and what I should desire, by what studies I may confirme my infirme minde; how I may driue farre from mee those vices that carrie and transport mee from th [...] right; how I may surmount so many euils; how I may remoue th [...]se calamities that haue broken in vpon mee, and how I may thwart those, in which I haue engaged my selfe. Teach mee how I may endure afflictions without grie­uing, felicitie without other mens enuie or distaste, how I may not expect the last and necessarie tearme of life, but of my selfe when I shall so thinke good, speedily seeke it out and flie vnto it. Nothing in my iudgement is more absurd and dishonest then to wish for death. For if thou wilt liue, why wishest thou to die? If thou wilt not, to what intent importunest thou the gods for that which they gaue thee when thou wert borne? For euen as it is decreed that thou must die one day whether thou wilt or no, so when thou wilt is in thine owne power: the one is of necessitie, the other of will. Some few dayes past I haue read a shamefull Preface of a certaine man, otherwise learned and eloquent, where these wordes are: So I may die (sayeth hee) in­continently. O fond man, thou desirest that which is thine owne; So may I die [Page 471] incon [...]inently. It may be that in speaking these wordes thou art become olde. Otherwise what stayeth thee? No man holdes thee, escape when thou wilt, chuse such a part of the instruments of nature, as seemeth good vnto thee, and command the same to giue thee issue: for these are the elements whereby this inferiour world is maintained, water, earth and ayre; all these are both the causes of life, and the high-wayes to death. So may I die incontinently: but when wilt thou die? What day wilt thou assigne to thine incontinent? It may come sooner then thou wishest. These are the wordes of a weake minde, and of such a one who by this protestation would obtaine mercie and lengthning of his life: he will not die that wisheth for death. Beseech the gods to giue thee life and health: if thou hast a minde to die, this is the fruite of death, to giue ouer wishing. Let vs speake of these things my Lucilius, and by them forme our vnderstandings wisedome, and to be wi [...]e consisteth in this, not to debate in impertinent questions of vnprofitable disputes. So many questions hath fortune proposed vnto thee, yet hast thou not satisfied her in them: now thou cauillest. How fond a thing is it to stand flourishing thy sword in the ayre, when the signall is giuen thee to begin the skirmish? Giue ouer these armes of disport, thou art to fight at sharpe. [...]ell me by what means no sadnes or feare may trouble the minde? by what meanes I may disburden my selfe of this troublesom weight of secret desires? Let somwhat be don. Wisdom is good, to be wise is not good: be it so. Let vs denie that to bee wise is a good thing, to the end we may draw all that studie into contempt, which is imployed in su­perfluous matters. What if thou knewest likewise that this is in question, whe­ther future wisedome be good? For what doubt is there, I pray you, whether the barnes doe already feele the haruest that is at hand, neyther childehood vn­derstand his future youth, being destitute of force and vigor? The health that is to com is nothing profitable to him that is sick, no more then rest doth which ought to follow the course and wrestling, comforteth not a man as long as he is running or wrestling. Who knoweth not that that which is to come is not good for this onely cause, because it is yet to come? For that which is good profiteth and serueth without delay. No things can be profitable but such as are pre­sent: if a thing profit not, truely it is not good; if it profite it is presently good. I shall be wise, this shall be good when I shall be so; but in the meane while it is not. First must a thing be, and afterwards it must be such or such. But tell mee, I pray thee, how may that which as yet is nothing, bee perfectly good? For how wilt thou haue me better proue it vnto thee that a thing is not, then if I shall say it is to come: for it is manifest that it is not yet come that is comming. The Spring must follow. I know now that it is Win­ter, the Sommer shall succeede: I knowe that it is not Sommer-time. The greatest argument I haue that a thing is not as yet present, is that it is to come. I hope I shall bee wise, yet in the meane space I am not wise. If I had that good, I should presently want this euill. It may bee hereafter that I shall be wise, although by this thou vnderstandest that I am not yet wise, I cannot at one time bee in that good and this euill. These two things doe not agree but are disioynted; neyther are at once in the same, good and euill. Let vs passe ouer speedily these ingenious trifles, and hasten our selues to attaine those things which may giue vs any help. There is no man that carefully seeketh for a mid-wife to come vnto his daughter that is in labour, that readeth vnto her the ordinance and disposition of the publicke Playes. There is no man that ha­stily runneth to quench the fire that hath seized his house, hath not the leasure [Page 472] to study how to saue his man, that in a game at Chests is hemmed in on eue­ry side. But thou knowest that from all parts, there commeth newes vnto thee both of the burning of thy house and the death of thy children, of the siege of thy Cittie, of the pillage of thy goods. Adde hereunto, shipwracks, earthquakes, and all other dreadfull accidents. Being in the midst of so many troubles, hast thou no other businesse but to giue thy selfe to pleasure? Thou inquirest what dif [...]erence there is betwixt wisedome and to be wise. Thou knittest and loosest knots, hauing so great a mountaine of miseries hanging ouer thy head. Nature hath not giuen vs so fauourable and liberall benefit of time, that we should haue leisure to lose any par [...] therof; co [...]sider also how much they lose who are most diligent. The sickenesse of our selues and of our friends carrieth away one part of vs, and necessarie and publique a [...]faires another. Sleepe robbeth from vs the halfe of our life. Of this time so short, so swift, and that carrieth vs away, to what purpose is it to consume the greater part thereof in vain? Adde hereunto now that the minde is accustomed rather to delight then heale it selfe, and that Phi­losophie which should be the remedie of euils, serueth nothing but for pastime. I know not what difference there is betwixt wisedom and being wise, yet know I well that it profiteth me nothing, whether I know these things or know them not. Tell me when I haue learned the difference betwixt wisedome and being wise, if I shall be wise? Why rather detainest thou me amongst the words then the workes of wisedome? Make me stronger, make me securer, make me equall with fortune, make me superiour: but I may be superiour if I doe all that which I learne.

EPIST. CXVIII.

That he will write no vaine Epistles, but rather such as are full of profitable lessons. He perswadeth to handle our priuate not forraine businesses, to require nothing of for­tune, neyther to depend vpon her. That the true good is to be sought, and the defini­tion what it is: and likewise what it differeth from honestie. That euery good is ac­cording to nature, neyther yet is euery thing good which is according to nature.

THou requirest me to write vnto thee oftentimes, if we enter into account thou canst not sufficiently satisfie me. It was agreed be­tween vs that thou shouldest write first, and that I should answer thee, I will not be behinde hand with thee, I know that there is nothing lost that is lent thee. I will pay thee therfore before thy day: neyther will I doe that which eloquent Cicero was wont to counsell Atti­cus to doe, that is, to write whatsoeuer came into his minde, although he had no matter whereupon to write. I can neuer want matter to write vnto thee, al­though I omit all that discourse wherewith Cicero stuffeth his Epistles, to wit, who it is that laboreth for offices, who fighteth with his own or forraine forces, who laboureth for the Consulat, eyther vnder Caesars or Pompeis fauour, or of himselfe. How hard a vsurer Cicilius is, from whom his neighbours can­not wrest a pennie, but a hundreth vpon a hundreth. It were better for a man to speake of his owne miseries then of another mans, to examine himselfe, and to consider how many things a man laboureth for, and obtaineth not one. This my Lucilius, is a worthy thing, this a secure and free thing, to demaund and pur­chase nothing, and to let fortune possesse her estates, without [...]ribing after any [Page 473] of thē. How pleasant a thing is it, thinkest thou, when the people are assembl [...]d, when such as pretend offices giue court to their wel-wishers, & the one publike­ly protesteth the mony he will giue, the other solliciteth by his sureties & priuat friends, when one man weareth and wasteth another mans hands with kisses. Where had he attained what he desireth, he would loath they should touch his, when all men are astonished, & expect the voice of the Crier, to stand idle & [...]x­pect those faires, neither buying nor selling any thing? How great ioy enioyeth this man, who beholdeth these assemblies, where choyce is made of Pretors and Consuls, but those great estates, where the one demaundeth yearely ho­nours, others perpetuall power: the one happie successe in battels and tri­umphes, the other riches: the one marriages and children, the other long and happie life for themselues and their parents. O how great a minde is it to de­mand nothing, to make supplication to no man, and that saith vnto Fortune, I haue nothing to doe with thee, I am not at thy commandement. I know that with thee Catoes are repelled, and Vatinians aduanced. I demand nothing at thy hands. This is to reduce Fortune into order. Fot this cause therefore ought we to entertaine one another, and to entreat continually on this subiect in our let­ters, beholding on euery side of vs so many thousands of men in trouble, who to cast themselues headlong into some mortall ruine, trauerse one mischiefe to finde out another, and seeke those things, which they incontinently flie as soone as they haue found them, or wherewith they should be likewise disgusted. For who is he that hath contented himselfe with that which was giuen him, or that supposed any thing ouer great, when he wished the same? Felicitie is not vn­satiable, as men beleeue, but it is weake and small, and therefore satisfieth no man. Thou beleeuest that these things are great, because thou art estranged from them, but to him that hath gotten them they are but base: I lie if such a one seeke not to mount higher. That which thou accountest highest, is but a degree. But the ignorance of truth is the cause that men erre thus, and they runne vnto that which hath but the appearance of good, being deceiued by common opinion. Afterwards hauing by much trauell obtained that which they pretended, they see that those things are euill, vaine, and lesse then they expected, and the most part of them admireth at one time or another, these false lustre of such vanities. In briefe, the common sort esteeme those things for good, which are greatest. But lest wee fall into this error, let vs enquire that which is good. The interpretation thereof hath beene diuers: some haue de­fined the same in one sort, othersome in another. Some define it thus. Good is that which inuiteth our mindes, and that calleth vs vnto him. H [...]reunto some pl [...]asantly obiect: But what if such a good inuite a man vnto his ruin [...]? Thou knowest how many euil [...] there are that are attractiue. Truth, and that which seemeth true differ thus. That which is good is annexed vnto truth, for it is not good except it be true. But that which inciteth to it s [...]lf [...], and attracteth by his appearance, hath a resemblance of truth: it insinuat [...]th, it solliciteth, it draweth. Some haue defined it thus. Good is that which moueth a desire of it selfe, or that inciteth the motion of the minde, that tendeth thereunto. And to this it is opposed in the same sort. For many things incite the motions of the mind [...], which are desired to their confusion that desire them. Better haue they done who haue defined it thus. That is good which draweth vnto it selfe ac­cording to nature, that motion of the soule, so that we ought to desire it then, when it is worthy to be desired. Let vs adde hereunto that this good is honest and vertuous, for we ought not to purchase an vnperfect good. This place ad­monisheth [Page 474] me to teach thee the difference that there is betwixt that which is good, and that which is honest. Somethings they haue mixed, and inseparable betweene them: neither can that be good which hath not some hones [...]ie in it; neither that honest which is not good. What difference therefore is betwixt them both. Hon [...]stie is a perfect good, wherein a bl [...]ssed life is accomplished, by whose attouchment other things are made good also. That which I say is thus. There are some things which are neither good nor euill; as Warrefare, Embassage, and Iurisdiction. These things when they are honestly admini­stred, begin to be good, and become so, whereas before time they were indiffe­rent. Good by the societie of honestie is made good, and honestie by it selfe is good. Good floweth from honestie, honestie is of it selfe. That which is good might haue beene euill; that which is honest, could not be but good. Some haue proposed this definition. That is good, which is according to nature. Marke what I say. That which is good is according to nature, yet is not that forthwith good, that is according to nature. Many things consent vnto nature, yet so small are they, that they deserue not to be called good. For they are small and contemptible: no good, no not the least is to be contemned, for as long as it is little, it is not good; when it beginneth to be good, it is not little. Whence is any thin [...] [...]now [...] to be good, if it be perfectly according to nature. Thou doest confe [...]e, sayest thou, that this is good which is according to nature, this is his propertie. Thou confessest likewise that there are some things which are according to Nature, and yet not good. How therefore is that good, when these are not? How attaineth it another propertie, when as both of them haue this propertie, to be according to nature? That is to say, in as much as they are great. Neither is this a new thing, that some things are changed by encreasing. He was an infant; now become a yong man: he hath had at that time some other pro­prietie. For the yong man is endowed with reason, the infant is depriued of it. Somethings become not only more great in their increase, but other things like­wise. That, saith he, is not made another thing, which is made greater. It skilleth not whether thou fil a bottle with wine, or a tonn [...], the property of wine remai­n [...]th in both the vessels. A little waight of hony and a great differ not in sauour. Thou settest down different examples: for in these the same quality remaineth, and though they be encreased, they are alwayes hony and wine. Some things amplified in their kind, continue in their propertie: som [...] things after many en­creasings are changed by the last, which imprinteth in them a new qualitie, o­ther thē that which they had before. One stone wil make an arch, that is to say, that bindeth in, and fastneth in the d [...]clining sides, and that tieth th [...]m together. Why hath this last stone, although it be little, so great a vse, because it maketh the worke compleat, although it giue it not any great encrease. There are some things, which in aduancing themselues, despoile themselues of their former forme, and inuest a new. After that our vnderstanding hath long time trauel­led vpon any subiect, and that it is wearied in following the greatnesse thereof, he beginneth to esteeme it infinit, because it is become farre different from that it was befor [...], when it seemed great, but not infinite. In like case we haue ima­gined that a thing may not be cut, which is hardly cut: afterwards the difficulty growing to be greater, we finde that the thing can no more be cut. In like sort of a thing which is hardly moued, we come vnto a thing which is vnmoueable. According to the same reason, some thing hath beene according to nature, and afterwards the greatnesse of the same hath transported it into another proper­tie, and hath made it good.

EPIST. CXIX.

That we may desire riches, and enioy them without requiring them as vnnecessarie. That the end of all things which exceed not nature, is to be considered. She seeketh not su­perfluitie, but sufficient. At last he sheweth that all they who commonly are reputed rich, are poore. Good God, they are both excellent and true.

AS oftentimes as I haue found any thing, I expect not till thou say I crie halfes. I say this vnto my selfe. Thou askest me what it is that I haue found out. Open thy lap, it is meere gaine that I giue thee. I will teach thee how thou mayest become rich sud­denly, which thou art very desirous to heare of. And not with­out cause I will leade thee the shortest way to great riches. Yet hast thou need of a creditor, and to negotiate, thou must needes borrow, yet will I not suffer thee to haue any Soliciter to borrow for thee, nor Broaker to publish thy name. I will bestow a creditor on thee, that shall be at thy commandement. That is to say, that sentence of CATO, Whatsoeuer it be, it will suffice, prouided that we re­quire that of our selues, whatsoeuer we want. For these things (my Lucilius) are a­like not to desire and to haue. The effect of the matter in both is alike, thou shalt not be vexed. Neither doe I command thee this, to deny Nature any thing, she is obstinat [...], she cannot be ouercome, she requireth her owne. But so that thou mayest know, that whatsoeu [...]r exceedeth Nature, is but borrowed, and not necessarie. I am an hungry, I must eate: whether this bread be browne or white, it appertaineth nothing to Nature. She will haue the belly not de­lighted but filled. I am a drie, whether this water be fetched from the next lake, or that which I haue closed vp in much snow, that it might be cooled by forren cold, it concerneth Nature no wayes. She commandeth this one thing, that the thirst should be quenched: whether the pot be gold or Crystall, or Cas­sidony, or a pot of Tiuoli, or the hollow of the hand, it skilleth not. Fix thine eye vpon the end of all things, and thou shalt forsake superfluities. Hunger presseth me. Let thy hand lay hold on whatsoeuer is next thee, the appetite shall make that loathsome, whatsoeuer I lay hold of. An hungrie stomacke is glad of any thing. Thou demandest therefore what thing it is that delighteth me? M [...] think [...]s it is worthily spoken. A wise-man is a diligent searcher of natu­rall riches. Thou payest me, sayest thou, with an emptie platter. What is that emptie? I had alreadie prepared my coasts, and looked about me vpon what sea I should embarke my selfe to follow traffique, what publike estate I might rent, what merchandize I should send for. It is a deceit in thee to teach me pouer­tie, when thou hast promised me riches. Doest thou then esteeme him poore that wanteth nothing? Thou answerest that it is by his owne meanes, and by the benefit of his patience, not of Fortune. Doest thou therefore iudge him not to b [...] rich, because his riches cannot cease? Whether haddest thou rather haue much, or sufficient? he that hath much, desireth more, which is an argument that as yet he hath not sufficient: he that hath enough, hath attained the end which neuer befalleth a rich man. Doest thou therefore thinke [...]hat thes [...] are not riches, because for them no man i [...] banished, because for them no sonne hath giuen his father poison, nor wife her husband? Because in warres they are secure, in peace at rest? Because it is neither dangerous to enioy them, nor trou­bl [...]some to dispose them? Hath h [...] but a little, that hath neither cold, nor hun­ger, [Page 476] nor thirst? Iupiter himselfe hath no more. Neuer is that little which is suf­ficient; neuer is that much, which is not sufficient. Alexander of Macedon af­ter he had conquered Asia, and the Indians, is poore, he seeketh what he may make his owne, he searcheth out vnknowne seas, he sendeth out new nauies vp­on the Ocean; and if I may say so, passeth and presseth beyond the bounds and limits of the world. That which sufficeth Nature contenteth not a man. And some there haue beene found, that hauing all things, haue notwithstanding co­ueted somewhat. So great is the blindnesse of our mindes, and so great the for­getfulnesse of men, that they remember not themselues of their beginnings, when they see themselues aduanced. This Prince that was Lord of a little an­gle of Greece, and that not without some opposition, is sorie that after he hath discouered and conquered so many Nations, to heare say that he must returne vnto his owne. Mony neuer made any man rich: contrariwise there is not any man that hath gathered store of it together, that is not become more couetous. Wouldest thou know the reason hereof? Hee that hath much beginneth to haue a will to haue more. In summe, although thou set before me whom thou wilt, of those who are reputed as rich as either Crassus or Licinius. Let him set downe his reuenewes, and account whatsoeuer he hath, and whatsoeuer he ho­peth together [...] yet this man, if thou beleeuest me [...] is poore, or if thou trust thy selfe, may be poore. But he that hath composed himselfe to that which Nature requireth at his hands; is not only without the sence, but also without the feare of pouertie. But to the end thou mayest know how hard a thing it is to re­straine a mans affaires according to the measure of Nature: this man whom we suppose to be moulded and fashioned according to his wil, and whom thou cal­lest poore, hath something which is superfluous. But riches attract and blinde the common sort, when great summes of money are carried out of any mans house, when his roofes are enriched and garnished with gold, when his family are either comely in body, or courtly in apparell. All these mens felicitie is in publike ostentation: but he whom we haue exempted both from the eye of the people, and the hand of Fortune, is blessed inwardly. For as touching those, with whom pouertie hath taken place [...] and is seazed of them vnder the suppo­sed name of riches, they haue their goods in such sort, as we are said to haue the Ague, when the Ague hath vs. Contrariwise we must say, the Ague hath hold of him: and in like manner wee ought to say, Riches hold and possesse him. There is nothing therefore that I would haue thee r [...]member more then this, that no man is sufficiently admonished, to the end thou mayest measure all things by naturall desires which content themselues with nothing or with lit­tle. Onely beware thou to mixe vices with desires. Askest thou me vpon what table, in what siluer vessell, by what seruices and seruants Nature presenteth thee thy meate. Know that she requireth nothing but meate.

When parching thirst doth burne thy iawes throughout,
Seek'st thou for gold therein to quench thy drought?
When hunger tempts thee, dost thou loath each meate,
Except thou Peacocks flesh or Turbot eate?

Hunger is not ambitious, she is contented to cease, she careth not much by what mean [...]s. These are the torments of vnhappie excesse, he seeketh how after he is glutt [...]d, hee may get an appetite: how he may not fill, but force and stuffe his bodie: how he may reuoke his thirst againe, which is pacified by the former [Page 477] potion. Horace therefore wittily denieth that it appertaineth to thirst, in what pot or in how cleane a hand water be ministred. For if thou thinkest that con­cerneth thee, how well frizeled the page is, and how cleane and neate the pot is which he presenteth thee with, thou art not a drie. Amongst other things na­ture hath especially fauoured vs herein, that he hath taken all disdaine from ne­cessitie: superfluities take pleasure in variety. This is scarce seemely, that not well drest, this offendeth mine eyes. The Creator of all things, who hath set downe vnto vs the lawes of our life, hath giuen order to maintaine vs in health, and not to entertaine vs in delight. All things are readie and at hand for the conseruation of our healths: if the question be of delights, all that which con­cerneth them is not recouered, but with much miserie and difficultie. Let vs therefore make vse of this benefite of nature, which is, to be numbred amongst the greatest, and let vs thinke that the greatest matter wherein we are most ob­liged vnto her, is, that she hath effected this in vs, that whatsoeuer is desired in necessitie is entertained and embraced without loathing.

EPIST. CXX.

How the knowledge of goodnesse came vnto vs by obseruation and conference, as also by the assistance of nature. And it commeth likewise by the contrary, that is, by the de [...]estation of vice. He describeth a wise-man, who not onely spurneth against those things which are commonly to be required or feared, but death: also in conclusion such a one as is alwayes one, and constant to himselfe.

THy Epistle hath wandred about many pettie questions, yet hath staied it selfe vpon one, and desireth to haue my resolution here­in: how the first notice of good and honest things come vnto vs. These two things in some mens opinion are diuers, but with vs that are Stoicks, they are only diuided. I wil tel thee what this is; Some men thinke that that is good which is profitable, and therefore they im­pose this name vnto riches, to a horse, to wine, to a shoe; so abiect is the name of good amongst them, and so vnduly applyed vnto seruile vses. They sup­pose that honest which consisteth in the discharge of a well-gouerned duety, as to haue a charitable care of a mans father in his age, to comfort and relieue the pouertie of a mans friend, to behaue himselfe valiantly in a warlike expedition, to deliuer a mans opinion wisely and moderately. These make we two, but out of one. Nothing is good except it be that which is honest, that which is ho­nest is good also. I suppose it a superfluous matter to annex what difference there is betwixt them, when as I haue oftentimes expressed the same. I will on­ly say this, That nothing seemeth good vnto vs, which a man may vse badly. But thou seest how many there be that vse their riches, nobilitie and strength badly. I now therefore returne vnto that which thou desirest me to resolue thee in, how the knowledge of that which is good and honest came [...]irst vnto vs. This nature could not teach vs, for she gaue vs but the seeds of sciences, and not science it selfe. Some say that we casually come to the knowledge therof, which is incredible, that the image of vertue should casually appeare vnto any man. But we suppose that by diligence, obseruation, and frequent conference of things, estimated by that which is good and honest, we haue attained to this knowledge. And since the Latine Grammarians haue made this word a Citti­zen [Page 478] of Rome, I will not condemne it, nor return it to the Cittie from whence it came. I will therfore vse the same, not only as a receiued but as a vsuall word: I will set downe what the Analogie is; We haue knowne that there is a health of the bodie, and thereby haue we gathered that there is some health and vi­gor of the minde. We haue knowne the strength of the bodie, and by these in­ferre we that there is a strength of the minde likewise. Some benigne actions some humane, some strong haue amazed vs; these began we to admire as if per­fect. These were trauersed by diuers defaults, which the appearance and bright­nesse of some notable deed did couer, by meanes whereof wee haue made a shew that we saw them not. Nature commandeth vs to amplifie those things which are praise-worthy, whereupon euery one hath raised glory aboue the truth. From these things therefore we haue drawne the appeareance of an ex­cellent good. Fabricius refused King Pyrrhus golde, and iudged it a greater mat­ter then a Kingdome, to be able to contemne Kingly riches. The same man when a Phisitian promised to poyson Pyrrhus, gaue him notice thereof, and wi­shed him to beware of treason. It was the same vertue in Fabricius, neyther to be ouercome with golde, nor to ouercome with poyson. We haue admired this great personage, who neyther suffered himselfe to be won by the Kings pre­sents, nor by the Phisitians promises against the King; constant in his vertuous resolution, innocent in warre, which is a rare thing in a souldier, who though that a man might be wicked euen against an enemy; who in his greatest pouerty whereby he had gotten himselfe the most honor, no otherwise fled from riches then from poyson. Liue, said he, by my meanes O Pyrrhus, and reioyce, al­though thou wert displeased therewith that Fabricius could not be corrupted. Horatius Cocles himselfe alone closed vp, and defended the strait passage of a bridge, and commanded a Trench to be made behinde him, to the end that his enemies might be hindered from entrance. And so long resisted he those that assailed him, vntill such time as he heard the noyse of the prop and timber that fell vnder him. And after he had looked behinde him, and perceiued that by his danger his countrie was freed from danger: Let him come, saith he, whosoeuer will follow me thither whither I goe. And hauing said thus, he cast himselfe des­perately into the water; and hauing no lesse care in this violent channell of the riuer to saue his conquering armes as his life, and hauing maintained the honor of his victorie, he returned into the Cittie as secure as if hee had entred by the bridge. These and such like acts haue expressed vnto vs the Image of his ver­tue. I will adde that which happily may seeme admirable: Euill things some­t [...]es haue presented themselues in the shape of honesty, and that which was the best hath beene manifested by his contrary. Some vices, as thou knowest, haue some resemblance of vertues, and those men that are most vicious and dis­honest, haue some appearance of goodnesse. So doth the prodigall man coun­terfeit the liberall, although there be a great difference betwixt knowing how to giue, and how to keepe. Many there are, my Lucilius, who giue not but cast a­way their money; for I call him not liberall that is angrie with his mony. Neg­ligence imitateth facilitie, and rashnesse fortitude. This similitude hath con­strained vs to consider things, & to distinguish those things which are neere in appearance, but farre different and contrary in effect, whilst wee obserue these, whom some noble exployt hath made famous, we haue begun to note what he might be that at one time only had resolutly, and nobly executed some enter­prise. We haue seene this man valiant in warre, fearefull in the iudgement seat, enduring his pouertie constantly, his infamy abiectly: we haue praised the act, [Page 479] but contemned the man. We haue seene another curteous towards his friends, temperate towards his enemies, managing both publique and priuate affaires, both piously and religiously, not wanting patience in those things which hee was to suffer, nor prudence in those things he was to performe: we haue seene such a one that gaue bountifully where necessitie required, that was diligent and industrious where he was to labour, and that relieued the wearinesse of his bodie with the constancie of his minde. Besides, he was alwayes one, and like himselfe in euery action, not onely good in wordes and counsaile, but by cu­stome brought to this passe, that besides that that he could not do [...] ill, he could not also doe but that which was good. Then vnderstanding that vertue was perfected in such a one, we haue distinguished it into some parts. Desires ought to be restrained, f [...]re repressed, actions foreseene, duties distributed: we com­prehended temperance, fortitude, prudence, justice, and gaue euery one of them their particular office. Whereby therefore came we to the knowledge of ver­tue? It was the order therof, the seemelinesse, and constancie, and the vniformi­tie of all actions, within themselues, and the greatnesse thereof, that exalted it selfe aboue all things that shewed the same. Hereby was that blessed life vn­derstood that hath a prosperous course, and dependeth wholly of it selfe. How therefore appeared this thing vnto vs? I will tell thee: neuer did that perfect man who was possessed of vertue curse fortune, neuer entertained he any acci­dents with discontent. Beleeuing himselfe to be a Cittizen and Souldier of the world, he vnderwent labours, as if they had beene enioyned him. Whatsoeuer happened he refused it not as euill, or that casually fell vpon him, but as some charge committed vnto him. This, saith he, whatsoeuer it be is mine, be it eyther difficult or dangerous let vs trauaile therein [...] of necessitie therefore he appea­red great, who neuer groaned vnder the burthen of afflictions, neuer complay­ned of his destinie, gaue vnto many a taste of himselfe, and no otherwise then a light shined in darkenesse, and drew all mens minds vnto him, by reason he was curteous and gentle, entertaining in good part all affaires both diuine and hu­mane. He had a perfect minde, drawne to the height of his perfection; aboue which there is nothing but the minde of God, a parcell whereof is deriued into this mortall bodie, which is neuer more diuin [...] then when it thinketh on his mortalitie, and knoweth that man is borne to this end, to forsake this life; ney­ther that this bodie is a house but an hostrie, yea and a short hostrie which must be forsaken, when thou perceiuest that thou art displeasing to thine host. I tell thee, my Lucilius, it is a great argument of a minde that is deriued from a higher place, if it repute those things humble and abiect wherein he conuerseth, and if he feareth to forsake them: for he knoweth whether he shall depart that re­membreth himselfe from whence he came. See we not how many incommodi­ties doe torment vs, how badly this mortall bodie doth agree with vs. Some­times we complaine of our bellies, afterwards of our heads, then of our breast and throat: sometimes we are tormented in our nerues, sometimes vexed in our feete: to day the flux, to morrow the rhume: sometimes too much bloud, sometimes too little, euery way are we troubled and driuen from one place to another. This befalleth them who are lodged in another mans house; but we that possesse so rotten a bodie, yet notwithstanding propose vnto our selues an eternitie, and as far as humane age may extend it selfe, so farre are we seized with hope [...] contenting our selues with no money or power. What can be more im­pudently or more foolishly done then this? There is nothing that contenteth vs that are to die, nay that die euery day: for we daily approach our last houre, [Page 480] and there is not a day or houre that driueth and driueth vs into the graue where we must rest. See into what blindnesse our mindes are driuen: a greater part of that which I haue said must come, is alreadie come, and threatneth vs euery mi­nute, for the time wee haue liued is in the same state where it was before wee were liuing. But it is a great folly for vs to feare the last dayes of the same, be­cause the first contribute as much vnto death as the last. The degree in which we breath our last, is not that which leaueth vs, but onely it sheweth vs our las­situde. The last day maketh vs touch death, all the rest to approch. She rauish­eth vs not at once, but snatcheth vs away by little and little. A greater minde therefore that knoweth that he must be par [...]aker of a better life, endeuoureth it selfe in this statim wherein he is placed, to demeane himselfe honestly and in­dustriously. Moreouer, he iudgeth nothing of these things that are about him to be his own, but like a stranger, and such a one as must suddenly forsake them, vseth them as lent him. When wee should see a man of this constancie, why should we not conceiue in him the image of an vnusuall vnderstanding [...] if, as I say, he should make show of so true a greatnesse? True qualities continue in their entire, false are flitting. Some men at sometimes are Vatinians, at other times [...]atoes, and some whiles Curius, in their opinions is a little too seuere. Fabricius not sufficiently poore, Tubero scarce frugall enough, and content with a little, they prouoke Licinius in riches, Apicius in suppers, Mace [...]as in delights. Incon­stancie and a continuall agitation betwixt the dissembling of vertues, and the loue of vices, is a great token of an euill minde.

Oft-times two hundred men did him attend,
Oft-times bu [...]en [...] sometimes his speech did tend
To Kings, to Tetrarches, and to great estates,
Sometimes his Fortunes he more basely rates:
I will, saith he, haue a three-footed table,
A homely salt, a gowne that shall be able,
Though homely, to withst and the winter cold:
Hadst thou committed to this niggards hold,
That is contented with so little pelfe,
Ten thousand crownes to seede and cloath himselfe
Within few dayes, nor he, nor all his meny
Could pay thee one, or blesse thee with a peny.

All these are such as Horace describeth this man, who was neuer himselfe, or euer like himselfe; so diuersly changed he. Said I diuers, scarcely is there one but is such. There is no man that doth not daily change both his counsaile and his vow: now will he haue a wife, then a Lemman: now will he gouerne, presently he laboureth for this, that no man may be a more officious seruant. Sometimes he exalteth himselfe so much, as he contracteth enuie: sometimes hee abuseth himselfe vnder euery one, and becommeth more miserable then those that are truely wretched: now scattereth he his money abroad, presently after hee en­grosseth all other mens. Hereby especially is an imprudent minde discouered, euery one betrayeth him, and that which in my opinion is most base, he is vn­like himselfe. Repute thou it to be a great vertue for a man to be one. But no man but a wise man doth one thing, all the rest of vs haue many shapes. To day we will seeme to be modest and graue, to morrow prodigall and vaine: we of-times change our maske, and oftentimes take a contrarie to that we haue put [Page 481] off. Exact thou therefore this of thy selfe, that to thy last breath thou main­taine thy selfe such, as thou hast resolued to shew thy selfe. Doe this, that thou mayest be praised, or approued at the least. A man may iustly say of him whom thou sawest yesterday, what is this man? So much is a man changed in a lit­tle time.

EPIST. CXXI.

He pretendeth somewhat for the wittier sort, and then propoundeth the same. Whether euery liuing creature hath a sence of his constitution, that is, whether they willingly and by nature intend thither, whither they ought, and were made. He saith that it is so, and by diuers reasons and examples teacheth the same.

THou wilt chide with me, I see, when I shall resolue thee of that question, wherein this day I spent no little time. For once more wilt thou exclaime what concerneth these maners? But exclaime at thy pleasure, whilest I first of all oppose those against thee, with whom thou mayest contend, I meane Posidonius and Ar­chidamus, for these shall debate the matter with thee, and afterwards I will say, that whatsoeuer is morall reformeth not good maners. There is one thing that appertaineth to a man to nourish him, another thing to exercise him, another thing to cloth him, another thing to teach him, another thing to delight him: yet all these things do appertaine vnto a man, although not all of them make him better. Certaine instructions concerne manners in some sort, certaine in another. Some correct and gouerne them, some search out their nature and beginning: when it is demanded why Nature brought forth man, why shee preferred him before all other liuing creatures. Thinkest thou that I haue left manners a farre off? Thou art deceiued. For how shalt thou know what manners are to be sought after, except thou findest out what is the best for man, except thou exa­mine his nature? Then at length thou shalt vnderstand what thou art to doe, and what to auoid, when as thou hast learned what thou owest to thy nature. I, sav [...]st thou, will learne how I may desire lesse, how I may feare lesse. Shake o [...]f from me this superstition: teach me that this which is called felicitie, is but a slight and vaine thing, and that the accession of one syllabble will make it infe­licitie. I will satisfie thy desire, and exhort thee vnto vertues, and will whip vi­ces: and although some men repute me too immoderate in this kind, yet will I not desist to persecute wickednesse, to restraine vnbridled affections to tempe­rate desires and pleasures that should terminate in sorrow; and to oppose my self against wishes. Why not? When as we haue desired the extreamest of euils, and that from the ioy which we haue, our sorrow hath proceeded. In the meane while suffer me to vnfold those things which seeme somewhat too much re­moued from vs. The question was, whether in all creatures there were a sence of their constitution. But that they haue a sence, it hereby most manifestly ap­peareth, because they fitly and readily moue their members, as if they had bin fashioned thereunto. Euery one of them hath an agilitie in his parts. A work­man handleth his tooles readily. The master of a ship knoweth how to s [...]eere his helme of his ship fitly. A Painter doth quickly discerne those diuersities of colours which are laid before him, to the end he may apply them in his worke, and with a readie hand and eye he passeth betwixt the wax, and the similitude or resemblance which he would draw: so liuing creatures moue themselues in [Page 482] euery sort, according as it becommeth them. We are wont to wonder at these cunning actors, who haue their hands so nimble, that they are able to represent all things, and effect readily by their gesture, whose fingers are as nimble as their tongues. That which Art vouchsafed them, Nature alloweth these. There is no man but stirreth his members without paine, there is no one restrained, when he hath need to moue himselfe, being borne vnto this motion: they per­forme it readily; they come into this world with this science, and are borne so instructed. Therefore, saith he, shall liuing creatures most fitly moue their parts, because if they moued them otherwise, they should feele paine. So as you say, they are compelled, and feare and not will maketh them moue aright, which is false. For they are slow which are enforced by necessitie, agilitie is a volunta­rie motion. But so farre o [...]f is it that feare of paine driueth them hereunto, that they endue themselues in their naturall motion, although paine doe prohibite them. So the infant that meditateth how to stand, and is accustomed to keepe himselfe on his feete, as soone as he beginneth to trie his forces, he falleth, and crying riseth againe, so often vntill by meanes of griefe he hath exercised him­selfe in that which Nature requireth at his hands. There are some liuing crea­tures of a harder backe, which turned vpon the same, so long time tumble them­selues, and stretch out their feete and bow them in, till such time as they haue recouered their ordinarie custome and place. The Tortuise being cast vpon her backe feeleth no torment, notwithstanding she ceaseth not to struggle and stirre her selfe, vntill such time as she feeleth her selfe in her naturall estate, and that she hath recouered her feete. Each of them therefore hath a sence of his constitution, and thereby a readie vse of their members: neither haue wee a­ny more greater token that they came to liue with this knowledge, then for that there is no liuing creature that is ignorant how to vse his bodie. Consti­tution, saith he, as you define it, is the principall and fairest part of the soule, that in some sort hath some power ouer the bodie. This definition so perplexed and subtill, and such as you your selues can scarcely discouer. How doth an infant vnderstand it? All liuing creatures should haue beene borne Logicians, to the end that they might vnderstand this definition, which might seeme obscure to the chiefest and wisest part of the Citizens. True it were which thou opposest, if I said that the definition of constitution were vnderstood by brute beasts. For constitution it selfe is more easily vnderstood, then taught by Nature. There­fore that infant knoweth not what constitution is, yet knoweth he his owne constitution [...] and what an Animal is, he knoweth not, yet feeleth he himselfe to be an Animal. Besides that, he vnderstandeth his Nature grossely, summari­ly, and obscurely. We also know well that we haue a soule, but what the soule is, where it is, of what qualitie it is, and whence it is we know not. Such sence of our minde as wee haue attained vnto, although we are ignorant of the na­ture and seat thereof, such sence haue all liuing creatures of their constitution. For they must needs feele, that by meanes whereof, they haue sence of other things, and they must of necessitie haue a sence of that thing which gouerneth them, and which th [...]y obey. There is not any one of vs but knoweth that there is a cer [...]aine thing which stirreth his affections, but no man knoweth what it is, and each man knoweth that he hath an endeuor, but what it is, or whence it is he knoweth not. Euen as infants, so other liuing creatures haue a sence of their principall part, but this resentiment is obscure and not manifest. You say (saith he) that a liuing creature is aboue all things accommodated to his nature and constitution, but that mans constitution is to bee a reasonable soule, and [Page 483] therefore that man is accomodated to himselfe, not as to a liuing creature on­ly, but as to a reasonable liuing creature, for hee is deare and precious vnto himselfe, as he is a man. But how therfore may an infant be accomodated to his reasonable constitution, when as yet he is not reasonable? Euery age hath his constitution, an infant hath one, a stripling another, an old man another, for all of them are accomodated to the constitution wherein they remaine. The in­fant is without teeth, this is a constitution that agreeth with him [...] his teeth grow out, and this is agreeable to his age. For euen that herbe that must grow to a stalke and ear [...], hath one constitution when it is tender, and scarce appea­reth aboue the furrow; another when it waxeth stronger, and hath a tender stalke, yet sufficiently able to beare his burthen: another when it waxeth yellow and is readie for haruest, and the eare thereof is hardened into whatsoeuer con­stitution it commeth, it maintaineth the same, and accomodateth it selfe there­unto. The age of an infant is one, of a little lad another, of a yong man another, of an old man another; yet am I the same, who both was an infant, a yong lad, and a yong man. So although each ones constitution be different, yet the ac­cord thereof is alwayes one. For Nature commendeth vnto me not a boy, not a yong man, or an old man, but my selfe. And therefore an infant is accomoda­ted to that constitution which he hath in being an infant, not which hee shall haue when he is a yong man: because not onely the estate wherein hee is, but that estate which remaineth as yet more great, whereunto he ought to attaine, dependeth vpon his nature. First of all, the liuing creature hath care of him­selfe, for there must be somewhat whereunto the rest are referred. I seeke plea­sure: for whom? for my selfe: therefore haue I a care of my selfe, I flie from paine; for whom? for my selfe: therefore haue I a care of my selfe. If I doe all things for the care I haue of my selfe, I haue a care of my selfe aboue all things. This is in all liuing creatures, it is not inferred, but innate: Nature bringeth out her fruit, but casteth them not out, and becaus [...] the most assured guard is that which is neerest; each one is committed to the charge and consideration of himselfe. Therefore, as I haue said before, the most tenderest creatures, which either from their dam, or otherwise haue beene brought to light, doe presently know what that is, which is hurtful vnto them, and fly from those things that threaten them with death; and chickens and small fowle, which are exposed for a prey to the grater fowle that liue by rapine, feare the shadow of all those which passe and houer ouer them. There is no creature that entereth life, but hath a feare of death. How (saith he) can a liuing creature that is new borne know that which is healthful or harmefull to him? First, the question is, whe­ther he vnderstand, not how he vnderstandeth. And that they haue vnderstan­ding, hereby it appeareth, that they wil do nothing more then they vnderstand: why is it that the Heron flieth not from the Pecock, or a Goose whē she is much lesser, & yet vnknowne to both, & yet hideth her self when she espieth a hauke? Why do chickens feare the cat, and not the dog? It appeareth that they haue a cetain knowledge of that which is hurtful vnto thē, not gathered by experience for they take heed before they can make triall of the danger. Furthermore, lest thou shouldest suppose that this hapneth by chance, they feare none but those whom they ought, neither forget they that such and such are their enemies, and are to be auoided. Besides, they are not made more fearefull by liuing, whereby it appeareth that they attaine the same, not by vse, but by a naturall loue of their safetie. That which vse teacheth is diuers, and encreaseth by little and little. But all that which Nature proposeth is equally and readily com­municated [Page 484] to all: Notwithstanding, if thou wilt, I will shew thee how each li­uing creature enforceth her selfe to know that which is harmeful vnto her. She feeleth that she consisteth of flesh, and consequently knoweth, that by meanes whereof her flesh may be cut, burnt, or b [...]uised. She reputeth those beasts her contraries and enemies that are armed to hurt. Th [...]se things are vnited toge­ther. For euery liuing creature hath a present care to conserue her selfe, shee searcheth that which may solace her, and feareth that which may offend her. If she repulse those things which are contrarie vnto her, Nature teacheth her the same, and that which she teacheth, she knoweth without discourse, and without resolution of will. Seest thou not what subtiltie Bees haue in building their hiues, how maruellous accord they haue in distributing and doing their busi­nesse? Seest thou not how no mortall creature can imitate the Spiders web? what cunning she hath in disposing her threeds, the one are wouen out-right, in stead of the foundation, the other are twisted round and small, to the end she may surprise and catch, as it were in a net, those flies, for whom she layeth her snares, and on whom she maketh her prey? This arte is borne with the Spider, and not learned. Therefore no creature is more learned then another. Thou shalt see that the Spiders webs are all alike; that the hiues wherin the Bees rest haue enterances alike. That which Arte teacheth is vncertaine and vnequall, but that which nature teacheth is alwayes vniforme: She hath not trained li­uing creatures in other sort, but to keepe themselues, to know and follow their nature, by meanes whereof, also their sci [...]nce and their life begin both together. Neither is it to be wondered at, that these liuing creatures are borne with their naturall science, considering, that without the same, they should take their life in vain. Nature hath furnished them with this first instrument, to arrest them in the communion and loue of themselues. They could not maintaine them­selues except they would, neither could this of it selfe profit, but without this nothing had profited. But in no c [...]eature shalt thou finde the contempt of her selfe, or the neglect. In those likewise which are silent and brutish, although in respect of the rest they be dull, yet in regard of life they are cunning. Thou shalt see that those things which are vnprofitable for others, forget not the care that they ought to haue of themselues.

EPIST. CXXII.

That the nature of excesse is contrarie to manner. He pleasantly describeth the nature of supping, drinking, sleeping, rising, and such like indirect delights.

THe dayes alreadie hath felt some detriments, they are somewhat diminished; yet so, as there is time enough as yet, if so be a man (if I may so speake it) will rise more officious and better with the day it selfe, then if he should expect the same to go and court o­thers vpon the day light. Base is that man that lieth slumbering long time after Sunne rise, that awakeneth at noone, and this time to some is earely day. There are many that peruert the offices both of day and night, and that neuer open their eyes (being ouer-burthened by ouer-nights drun­kennesse) before the euening discouereth it selfe. Such as their condition is said to be, when Nature (as Virgil saith) hath placed subiect, and opposite to our feete. [Page 485]

And when to vs the day-spring doth appeare,
And bl [...]shing mor [...]e showes PHOE [...]VS steedes are neere,
To them the ruddie euen with weaker light,
Kindels the lightsome Tapers of the night.

Such is not the Region, but their life, so that contrary and opposite to that of ours. There are certaine Antipodes in the same Cittie, who, as Cato saith, Neuer saw eyther the rising or setting Sunne. Thinkest thou that these men know how to liue, that know not when they liue? And these are they that feare death, in which they haue buried themselues aliue; as fatall are these as night-runners. Although they passe their nights in wine and perfumes, although they employ the time of their intemperate vp- [...]itting in feasts and variety of many dishes, yet those which they solemnize are not feasts but funerals. Vndou [...]tedly by day time men are wont to celebrate the obsequies of the dead; but assuredly there is no day too long to him that trauaileth. Let vs extend our life; the office and argument hereof is action, and let somewhat thereof be reserued to the day. Those birds which are bought to celebrate a feast are kept dark, to the end that by sitting still they may more easily become fat; so such as he without any ex­ercise, a sluggish swelling in [...]adeth their bodies, and a soft fat groweth about their members; so deformed doe their bodies seeme that hane dedicated them­selues to darkenesse. For their colour is no lesse pleasing then theirs that are wearied and made pale with sickenesse, they languish, looke bleach [...] and are dis­coloured, and in their li [...]e their flesh is corrupted. Yet will I say that this is the least of euils in them, how farre greater darkenesse is there in their minde? The one is stupid, the other is almost blinde, and seemeth to enuie those that see not a whit. Who euer had eyes to vse them in darknes? Askest thou me how this depriuednesse of the minde groweth, by loathing the day and transferring the whole life into night? All vices fight against nature, all of them leaue their owne order. This is the purpose of excesse, to reioyce in peruerse things, and not onely to depart from the right, but to flie a farre off from it, and to bee at length opposite vnto it. Doe not these men in thy iudgement liue contrarie to nature that drinke fasting, that poure in wine into their emptie veynes, and sit downe drunke to their dinners? But this is an ordinary er­rour in young men, who exercise their strength, who almost in the very en­trance of the Bath, do not only drinke but gull down wine amongst those that are naked, to the end they might restraine the sweate which they haue moo­ued by their hote and often quaffings. It is an ordinary matter to drinke after Dinner or Supper; our countrey house keepers doe the like, who are igno­rant of true pleasure. That wine delighteth which swimmeth not vpon our meates, which freely pierceth vnto the nerues. That drunkennesse delighteth that comes vpon an emptie stomacke. Seeme they not in thy iudgement to liue contrary to nature who are as effeminate in their garments as women? Liue they not against nature, who studie to haue childish beautie vpon a wrinckled forehead? What thing can be more miserable or more horrible? He will neu [...]r be a man because he may long time suffer a man [...] and when as his sex should re­priue him from con [...]umely, his age it selfe cannot discharge him. Liue they not against nature that in winter long for a Rose, and by the nourishment of warme waters, and the fit change of heat i [...] winter time cause a Lillie & such flowers as are destinated to the spring to flourish? Liue they not against nature that plant [Page 486] Orchards on their highest Towers, that haue whole Forrests shaking vpon the tops and Turrets of their houses, spreading their roots in such places, where it should suffice them that the tops of their branches should touch? Liue they not against nature that lay the foundations of their bathes in the sea? Neither suppose that they swim delicately enough, except their warm bathes be inuiro­ned with tempestuous billowes? When as they haue resolued to intend all things against the custome of nature, at last they wholly reuolt from her. Is it day? It is time to goe to bed: it is night, now let vs exercise our selues, now let vs be coached, now let vs dine: doth the morning approach? It is time to goe to supper. We must not liue according to common custome, it is a base, ordinary and vulgar course of life. Let the common day be relinquished, let the mor­ning be proper and peculiar vnto vs; for mine owne part I ranke these men a­mongst the dead: for how little are they distant from their funerals, and they most fatall that liue by Torch and waxe light? I remember that at one time di­uers men led this life. Amongst others Attilius Buta a Praetorian, who after he had spent all his goods in gluttony, which were very great when he complained him of his pouertie to TIBERIVS; Too late (said the Emperiour) art thou awa­kened. MONTANVS IVLIVS an indifferent Poet, well knowne thorow the fa­uour and repulse he had at Caesars hands, tooke pleasure to enterlace in his verses these words Ortus and Occasus, which signifie the rising and setting of the Sun, One day a certaine friend of his being displeased because Montanus had not gi­uen ouer for the space of a whole day to recite som of his compositions, said that a man should not giue [...]are to a man, so importunate Natta Prinarius taking fit opportunitie, said, Can I vse him more curteously? I am readie to heare him from the Sunne rise to the Sunne set; when he had recited these Verses,

PHOE [...]VS begins to show his burnisht light,
And blushing day to spread his shining face,
And now begins the Swallow with delight
To feed her yong, within her neast a space,
And to her wings, breed by one and one
Yeeld from her neb their food to feed vpon.

Varus a Romane Knight, a companion of Lucius Vinicius an ordinarie smel-feast, who was the better welcome by reason he wittily and bitterly jested at those whom he thought fit, cried out aloude, BVTA begin to sleepe: againe, when after that he had recited,

Now haue the shepheards cloasd their fruitfull Kie
Within their stalls, now dull and darksome night
Begins to spread her sad and silent eye,
Vpon the dulsome earth depriu'd of light.

The same Varus said, What saith he? It is now night, I will goe and salute BVTA. There was nothing more notorious then this preposterous life of Buta, where­unto diuers applyed themselues in that time, as I haue said. The cause of this disorder is not in that they thinke that the night hath any thing more pleasing in it, because nothing hindereth them, and for that the day is displeasant to an euill conscience; and because the light costeth nothing, it contenteth not him that coueteth or disdaineth all things, according as they cost more or lesse. Be­sides, [Page 487] these vnbridled persons will haue their immoderate life spoken of whilst they liue; for if it be obscured, they thinke they loose their labour. They are displeased therefore as often as they doe not that which may make them be spoken of: many of these deuoure their goods, many of them haue their har­lots; and if thou wilt haue credite amongst these men, thou must needes com­mit some lasciuious or notable folly. In a Citty so possessed with sin a common and ordinary errour is not looked after nor talked vpon. I haue heard Pedo Albi­nouanus report (which was a man of a very pleasant discourse) that he dwelt a little aboue Sparius Papinius house, who was one of the company of the night-Owles and light-shunners: About the third houre of the night, saith hee, I heare the lashing of the whips, and I aske what he doth? They answer me that he calleth his seruants to account. About the sixt houre of the night, I heare a shrill voyce, and I aske what it is? and they answer me that he exerciseth his voyce. I aske about the eight houre of the night what that ratling of wheeles meaneth? they answere, that hee will take the ayre. About day light I heare running vp and downe the Pages are called for, the Butlers and Cookes make a stirre; I aske what that meaneth? they answer me that he was come out of his Bath and required broth and drinke. What did his supper, said he, exceed the day? No; for he liued very frugally, and spent nothing but the night. And therefore he oftentimes answered those that called him couetous and a slouen; You would likewise call him, Lichnobius, that is to say, such a one as liueth by the Lampe. Thou must not wonder, although thou findest so many proprieties of vices; they are diuers, and haue innumerable faces, their kindes cannot be comprehended. The managing of that which is good is simple, and that which is euill manifold, and is disposed in all sortes as a man list. The same befalleth manners, such as follow Nature are facile and free, and haue small differences; the rest are extrauagant and neuer accord amongst themselues: but the especial cause of this sicknesse in my opinion, is the hatred of common life. As they di­stinguish themselues from other men in their garments, as in their great & cost­ly suppers, and in the richnes of their coaches, so will they be seperated from o­ther in the disposition of times they will not sinne ordinarily, whose reward in sinning is infamie. This doe all they seeke after, who (if I may say so) liue sini­sterly. Therefore my Lucilius, we are to follow that way, which nature hath prescribed vs; neyther must we wander out of the same. They that doe this, finde all things facile and expedit, but they that striue against the same, their life is no otherwise then theirs who striue against the streame.

EPIST. CXXIII.

That a thin and simple dyet by the decree of the minde and hunger are made desirable. That rich men are to vse the same likewise; for who knoweth whether he shall haue neede thereof? Let neyther custom or forraine manners seduce vs. Despise all contra­ry iudgements or opinions.

BEing spent by my iourney more incommodious then long, I came to my Albanum very late in the night, I finde nothing ready but my selfe. For this cause I laide me downe in my bedde to ease my wearinesse, and take in good part this negligence of my Cooke and Baker: for thus debate I vpon this matter with my selfe; There is nothing [Page 488] so grieuous that can distaste thee if thou endure it patiently, neyther any thing that may displease thee except thou thy selfe cause it by thy fretting. My Ba­ker hath no bread, but my Farmer hath, my Porter hath, my Plow-man hath. But thou wilt say it is course bread: stay a while it will be made good; hunger I tell thee, will make it more pleasing vnto thee then thy white bread. There­fore ought we not to eate any thing before hunger commaund vs. I will there­fore stay and refraine eating till such time as eyther I beginne to haue good, or forbeare to loath bad. It is a necessarie thing to accustome our selues to fruga­lie: many difficulties of time and place doe sometimes hinder the most richest and greatest Lords from their long desired dinners. No man can haue whatso­euer he will, yet may he not will that which he hath not, and vse those things that are presented him thankefully. A great part of libertie is a well-gouerned bellie, and patient in all wants. Thou canst not imagine what pleasure I take in this, that my wearinesse is appeased of it selfe. I seeke neyther vnction nor Bath, nor any other remedie, but onely time: for that which labour hath bred rest taketh away. This will be more pleasing then a supper prepared for the gods: for sometimes I haue made a sudden experiment of the forces of my minde, and I finde it to be the most simple and assured; for whereas the minde hath prepared it selfe, and enioyned himselfe patience, a man cannot see how much firmitie it hath: for they are the most certaine arguments which she in­stantly gaue, if not onely with an equall but a temperate eye hee hath beheld them, if she hath not beene displeased nor hath contested, if that which should be giuen, himselfe ministreth to himselfe by not desiring, & thinketh that there is somewhat wanting to his custome and not vnto himselfe. We neuer vnder­stood that many things were superfluous, but when they began to be missing: for we vsed them not because we ought, but because we had them. But how many things doe we prepare, because other men haue prepared them? because they are vsual amongst manie? Amongst the causes of our euils, this is one, that we liue by example; neyther are we gouerned by reason, but ledde away by custome, which if few men did, we would not imitate: when as many haue be­gun to doe the same we follow it as if it were more honest, because it is more fre­quent, and errour with vs supplieth the place of that which is right, when it is made publique. All men now-a-dayes trauaile in such sort, that a troope of Numidian horsemen leades them the way, and a companie of foot-men attends vpon their stirrop. It should be an indignitie vnto them if they had not some attendants to thrust those out of the way that met them, and that should show in raising much dust, that an honest man came after them. In these dayes all men haue Moiles that beare their vessels of crystall, and such as are made of Cassonie, and enameled by the hands of great Artists: it is a shame for thee if thou seeme to haue those carriages as might not be broken. All the Litters wherein they carrie their Minions are couered, and they themselues haue their faces anoynted, lest eyther the Sunne or colde should harme their tender skins; it is shame that there is no one in the companie of their Minions, that hath a face so faire that it needeth not to be farded. All these mens conference is to be auoided, these are they that teach vices, and conuey them from one place to an­other. They were reputed the worst sort of men that were tale-carriers, but som there are that beare vices. These mens speech doth much mischiefe; for al­though it instantly hurteth not, yet leaueth it some seedes in the minde, and it followeth vs euen then when wee haue left them, likely hereafter to enkindle a new euill in vs. Euen as they who haue heard some excellent Musicke beare [Page 489] away with them in their eares that harmony and sweetnesse of song, which hindereth the thoughts, and suff [...]reth them not to be intended to serious mat­ters: so the speech of flatterers, and such as praise vice, sticketh longer time in our mem [...]ries, then it is [...]eard: neither i [...] it an easie matter to extinguish so sweet a sound in the minde, it followeth [...] and continueth, and returneth againe some­whiles after into our remembrance. It becommeth vs therefore in the begin­ning to stop [...]p our eares against euill voyces, for when they haue gotten ente­rance, and are admitted, they are more audac [...]ous. From thence men grow to this language, Vertue, Philosophie, and Iustice, is but the bruite of vaine words. The only felicitie is to make good cheere, to liue at pleasure, and to haue an am­ple patrimonie. This it is that is called life, this is to remember that a man is mortall. The daye [...] fleete from vs, and our life so posteth away as we may ne­uer recouer it. Why are we doubtfull to frame our selues according to our fan­tasie, and to satisfie our flesh her desires, whilest she demandeth them, whilest she will and can take them? Why take we care to spare for the time after our death, and to forbid our selues that for the present, which she will carry away? Thou hast no she friend, no boy, that may moue iealousie in thy mistris. Each day walkest thou out of thy house sober, so suppest thou, as if thou wert accoun­table to thy father for the expence thou makest euery day. This is not to liue, it is to assist and keepe company with the liuing. What folly is it to heape vp riches for thine heire, and to deny thy selfe all things, that the great goods thou possessest might make thy friend thine enemie; for the more hee enioyeth by thee, the more he reioyceth at thy death. Set not a farthing by these seuere and bold causers of another mans life, enemies to their owne, such men as would re­gent the whole world: neither doubt thou to make choice of a merrie life be­fore a good fame. These speeches are no otherwise to be fled, then the songs of the Syrens, which Vlisses would not saile by, [...]fore he had tied himselfe to the mast of his ship. They haue the same power, they take from those that giue eare vnto them, their countrie, their parents, their friends, their vertues, and drag th [...]se miserable creatures thorow the ordures of a shameful and infamous life. How farre better is it to follow the direct way, and to aime at this end that those things at length may onely seeme pleasing vnto thee which are honest? Which we may attaine, if we shall conceiue two kinds of things, the one wher­of draw vs, the other driue vs away. Those that inuite vs, are riches, pleasures, beautie, ambition: in briefe, all that which flattereth vs, and is agreeable vnto vs. They that driue vs away are trauaile, death, dolor, ignominie, and want. We must therefore exercise our selues, lest we feare the one or desire the other. Let vs make head against that which is contrarie, and let vs depart from those things which inuite vs, and make warre against those that importune vs. Seest thou not how diuers the habit is of those, that ascend and descend? Those that descend from a steepe place, bend their bodies backward, they that ascend an high place [...] lie vpon their bellies. For if in descending thou swayest thy selfe forward, or in ascending thou leanest backward: this (my Lucilius) is to con­sent with vice. We d [...]scend into pleasures, we must mount in the incommo­dities and aduersities of this life. Let vs presse forward in these, and restraine our selues in the other. Thinkest thou now, that I say this, that they only are preiu­dicious to our eares, who praise voluptuousnes, who encrease the apprehension of paine, a thing that of it selfe is dreadfull enough. Those men likewise, in my opinion, are hurtfull vnto vs, who vnder pretext of being Stoicks, exhort vs vn­to vices: that a wise-man only is both learned, and a louer, that only he is practi­sed [Page 490] in this Arte. The wise-man is as skilfull in drinking, as in banquetting. Let vs enquire vntill what yeares yong men are to be beloued. Let these things be allowed to Grecian custome. Let vs rather addresse our eares to those things that follow. No man is casually good; vertue is to be learned, voluptuousnes is a vile and base thing, and of meane price [...] common to man, with brute beasts, and whereunto the least, and most contemptible doe flie. Glory is vaine, and swiftly flieth, and is more inconstant then the winde. Pouertie is displeasing to no man, except to him that heareth it impatiently. Death is no euill. Why complainest thou? She it is alone that dealeth iustly, and carrieth her selfe equal­ly towards all humane kinde. Superstition is a mad error, it feareth those whom she should loue, and violateth her masters. For what difference is there, whe­ther thou deniest the gods, or defraudest them? These things are to be lear­ned, yea they are to be kept continually in remembrance. Philosophie must not suggest excuses vnto vice. That sicke man hath no hope of his health, who is counselled by his Phisitians to intemperance.

EPIST. CXXIIII.

Against the Epicures, that good consisteth in reason, not in sence. And therefore that infants are not as yet capable thereof: neither is it compleate, except it be where reason is compleate. How shall I vnderstand that it is in me, if I seeke nothing without my selfe?

I Can recount, if so thou list to heare,
Full many precepts of the ancient wise,
Except thou loath to lend thy listning eare,
To know from whence the lesser cares arise.

But thou loathest not, neither doth any subtiltie disgust thee. Thy gentle spirit disdaineth not the smallest things, although it comprehend the greatest. I like­wise approue this in thee also, because thou reducest all things to some vse, & ar [...] only offended then, when with much subtiltie nothing is effected, which I will not now endeuour to do. The question is, whether good be comprehended by sence or vnderstanding. Hereunto it is annexed, that it is neither in brute beasts, nor in infants: they that hold voluptuousnesse for the chiefest good, doe iudge good to be sensible. We contrariwise considering it in the soule, maintaine that it is intelligible. If they did iudge of the good of sence, we should reiect no vo­luptuousnesse, because all of them are both attractiue and pleasing, And con­trariwise, we should willingly vndergoe no paine, because there is none but of­fendeth the sence. Besides, they should not be worthy of reprehension, who are too much affected to voluptuousnes, and are too exceedingly afraid of pain. But wee mislike those that are addicted to their belly and lust, and contemne those, who for feare of paine dare attempt nothing couragiously. But wherein doe they offend, if they obey their sences, that are the iudges of good and euill. For to these Masters haue you giuen the power to desire and flie. But reason hath charge of this, and must order as well good and euill, as vertue and honesty. For by these the preheminence is giuen to the baser part, to iudge of the better, and their meaning is, that the sence which is a dimme and dull thing, and more slow in men then in other liuing creatures, should censure what the true good is. [Page 491] What if a man would discerne the smallest things by sight, and not by touch, to discerne euill from good, a man cannot finde a more sharpe and better intended sight then that of the eye. Thou seest in what ignorance of truth he remai­neth, and with what ignorance he hath trod [...]n those things vnder foote which are diuine, who will make the touch to be the iudge of good and euill [...] Euen as, saith he, euery Science and Arte ought to haue something in it, which is mani­fest, and comprehended vnder sence, from whence it may be deriued and en­crease: euen so a blessed life hath for his foundation and beginning, something which is both apparant and sensible. But you say that a blessed life taketh her beginning from manifest things. Wee say that those things are blessed, which are according to nature, but what is according to nature appeareth cleerely and at the first sight, as that also which is entire. What is that which is according to nature? It is that which befalleth him who is newly borne, I say not good, but the beginning of good. Thou attributest pleasure vnto infancie, as if it were their chiefest good, that at his birth-day he should begin there, whither hee at­taineth when he is become a man. Thus puttest thou the top of the tree into the place of the roote. If a man should say, that an infant lying in his mothers wombe, and scarce begun, tender, imperfect, and without forme, is alreadie in possession of any good, should he not seeme to erre manifestly? But what dif­ference is there betwixt an infant, that doth begin to be, and one which is as yet but a hidden burthen in his mothers womb? Both these, in respect of the vnder­standing of good & euill, haue equall maturitie: & no more is an infant capable of good as yet, then a tree, or any dumbe beast? But why is not good in a tree or dumbe beast? Because reason is not in them, and therefore is it not in an infant, by reason that he wanteth reason, whereunto when he hath attained, he shall approch more goodnesse. There is some creature which is not reasonable [...] and some other which is not as yet endued with reason, if it be it is imperfectly. Goodnesse is neither in the one, nor in the other. Reason bringeth that good with himselfe. What difference then is there betwixt the things aboue men­tioned? Neuer shall good be in a liuing creature which is depriued of reason, neither can it be in him that is not as yet endued with reason, as long as hee re­maineth in that estate, she may be, but she is not [...]s yet. So then I say (my Lu­cilius) that good is not found in euery bodie, or in all ages, and is as farre estranged from the infant, as that which is last, is distant from that which is first, and the beginning of a thing, from the accomplishing and perfection of the same, and consequently, good is not in a bodie which doth but newly receiue forme in his mothers wombe: no more is there in the seede whence the bodie hath forme: as if thou makest mention of the good of any tree or plant, it is not in the first leafe that buddeth forth. The corne hath some good which is not in the tender blade, nor in the straw, but in the graine which is readie to be rea­ped. Euen as all nature, except it be consummate, bringeth not forth his good, so the good of a man, is not in a man, except he be possessed of perfect reason. But what this good is, I will tell thee: It is a free and vpright minde, that sub­iecteth all other things vnder him, and is himselfe subiect to nothing. Too far is infancie from pertaking this good, that the childish age hopeth it not, and youth doth weakely hope the same. Happie is old-age if it attaine thereunto by long and diligent studie, when this is both good and able to be vnderstood. Thou diddest say, sayest thou, that there is a certaine good of a tree, another of an herbe; therefore may an infant haue some good. The true good neither is in trees [...] nor in dumbe creatures; that good which is in these is called but a bor­rowed [Page 492] good: and what is that, sayest thou? That which is according to the na­ture of euery thing. There is not one brute beast that may in any sort partici­pate good, which belongeth to a better and more happy nature: there is no good but there where reason hath place. These foure natures are distinct; that of a Tree, that of a Beast, that of a Man, and that of a God. These two which are without reason are of the same nature, the other two are diuers, the one immortall, the other mortall. Of these the one maketh his owne god ac­complished, and that is God, & a mans diligence addresseth the other. The rest are perfect in their nature, but not truely perfect if reason be absent from them. For that is finally perfect which is perfect according to cōmon nature, but com­mon nature is reasonable, the rest may be perfect in their kinde. That wherein happie life cannot be, cannot haue that thing which causeth happie life, but a blessed life is made by good things, and in a dumbe beast that is not that where­by blessed life is effected, and therefore good cannot be in a dumbe beast. A dumbe beast comprehendeth things that are present, by sense he remembreth those things that are past at such time as that which awakeneth the sense, awa­keneth it selfe, as a horse remembreth himselfe of his way when he is set into the beginning of it: whilst he standeth in the Stable he hath no remembrance thereof, although he hath trode it ouer many times. But the third time, that is to say, that which is to come appertaineth not to dumbe beasts: how then can their nature seeme to be perfect who haue no vse of perfect time? For time consisteth of three parts, of that which is past, of that which is present, of that which is to come. That which is onely present and shortest, and passeth soonest is giuen to beasts: as touching that which is past, they haue eyther none or little remembrance thereof neyther, but casually thinke they on things that are pre­sent; thus the good of a perfect nature cannot be in an imperfect nature. Or if by nature she hath it, she hath it as hearbes haue; neither doe I denie but that brute beasts haue their motions very rude and violent towards those things which seeme to be according to nature, but such motions are confused and dis­ordered, but there cannot be any confusion or disorder in good. Why then sayest thou doe brute beasts moue themselues confusedly and disorderly? I would say that they moued. [...]mselues confusedly and disorderly, if their na­ture were capable of order: but they haue a motion according to nature. For we call that thing confused, which sometimes may not be confused, and that carefull which may be assured; vice is in nothing wherein vertue may not be; dumbe beasts haue by nature that motion which they haue. But [...]est I detaine thee ouer-long, there shall be some good in a dumbe beast, some vertue, some perfection; but what shall it be, but what good? Neyther absolutely good, nei­ther vertue, neyther perfect; for these priuiledges doe onely appertaine vnto those that are endowed with reason, who haue the knowledge giuen them why, how farre, and how. Thus good is not in any thing, except it be ended with reason. Doost thou aske me whereunto this disputation tendeth, and what profite it shall yeeld vnto thy minde? I will tell thee, it exerciseth it, it whetteth it, and detaineth the same in some honest meditation, since he must employ and occupie himselfe. But that which restraineth the minde that run­neth after vice, is profitable. But this I say, that the greatest good I can do thee, is to teach thee thy good, to seperate thee from brute beasts, and to lodge thee with God. Why doost thou entertaine and nourish the forces of thy bodie? Nature hath granted brute and sauage beasts greater th [...]n these? Why doost thou so carefully maintaine thy beautie, when as thou hast done thy vttermost [Page 493] thou shalt be ouercome by many brute beasts in comelinesse? Why doest thou trim thy haire with so great diligence, when thou hast eyther scattered it after [...] the Parthian manner, or tied it vp in knots after the Germane fashion, or let it grow long as the Scithians are wont; in euery horse thou shalt finde a thicker crest, in euery Lion a goodlier. When thou shalt addresse thy selfe to runne, the Hare will outstrip thee, wilt thou leaue these forraine aduantages in pursuit, whereof thou hast alwayes the worst, and returne vnto thy good? And what is this? vndoubtedly it is a reformed minde, pure and imitating good, ex­tolling himselfe aboue humane things, placing nothing of himselfe without himselfe. Thou art a reasonable creature: what good is there therefore in thy selfe? Perfect reason. Summon thou that to his chiefest perfection, and let it increase as much as it may. Then suppose thy selfe to be blessed when all thy ioy shall proceed from thy selfe, when in th [...]se things which men long after, wish and desire thou findest nothing I say, not that thou wouldest rather haue, but that thou wouldst haue. I will giue thee a short lesson, wherby thou mayest measure thy selfe, wherby thou mayest perceiue that thou art perfect. Thou shalt possesse thy true good, when thou shalt know that those are most vnhappy who are happy.

The end of SENECAES Epistles.
THE MEMORABLE AND FA …

THE MEMORABLE AND FAMOVS TRACTS, BOTH MORALL AND NATVRALL, WRITTEN BY LVCIVS ANNAEVS SENECA.

LONDON, Printed by William Stansby. 1613.

LVCIVS ANNAEVS SENECA His Discourse of PROVIDENCE: OR Why good men are afflicted, since there is a diuine PROVIDENCE.

The Argument of IVSTVS LIPSIVS.

THis little booke is a golden booke, and was written, as I conceiue, after CALI [...]VLAS time, and I iudge it by his fourth Chapter: I heard a Fencer, in CAIVS CAESARS time, complaining of the scantnesse of rewards. He speaketh of the time past, and of the man and the time which was. I thinke therefore that hee wrote it vnder CLAVDIVS, and presently vpon his returne. Yea but what if he wrote some of these Philosophicall Discourses in his exile? For he continued there a long time, about some eight yeares, and vpon iust cause made choice hereof to comfort himselfe. For the argument is, that there is a Prouidence, and yet notwithstanding, that some euils, but they externall, doe befall good men. He first of all in generalitie auoweth the same, by the motion, order, and constancie of the world, all which doe testifie that there is a Gouernour. Afterwards he more particularly examineth the question. Why therefore doe misfortunes happen to good men? First of all he saith, that God loueth good men, and that therefore hee sen­deth them not afflictions. That like a father hee correcteth and checketh them. A­gaine, that these seeme no afflictions vnto good men, neither that they are ouercome, but exercised by them, and made constant by their tribulations. That God is, as it were, a Iudge of the game, and taketh delight in these his strong and confident wrastlers. This handleth he generally, and as it were in way of induction to the third Chapter. From that forward he more distinctly goeth forward, to set downe fiue reasons why they hap­pen. First, that it is for their good, for whom they happen. Secondly, for all mens. Third­ly, for such as would haue them happen. Fourthly, that they happen by fate and an eter­nall Law. He handleth the first reason in the third and fourth Chapter, and teacheth that it is for their good, to whom they chance, as a medicine is to those that are sicke. They are likewise confirmed by God by this meanes, who bringeth those foorth to the battell, who are worthy of him: that hee suffereth the rest of baser mettall to liue in idlenesse and obscuritie. He handleth the second in the fift Chapter, that it is for all mens good, that good men, and such as are so reputed, might crie out vnto others, and shew them they are not good or euill, which the common sort esteemeth such. He counselleth them therefore to haue an eye to those that are true, and to affect them, and flie the other. In that place he entreateth of the other, of such as are willing to entertaine the same, for [Page 498] they giue themselues to God and Fate. The fourth concludeth that there is Fate, and that it is constituted from eternitie, what thou shouldest reioyce and grieue at. Againe, he repeateth this, that these things are not euill, and bringeth in God most excellently ex­horting and exciting them to constancie. He concludeth Stoically, if thou dislike it, and canst not abide it, who holdeth thee? the dore is open, get thee out.

CHAP. I.

Hauing appro­ued that there is a Prouidence, he sh [...]weth in gene­rall, by conside­ration of all creatures both high and low, that it is impossi­ble that they should be with­out a most wise mouing cause, since the effects they haue are so admirable. THOV hast demanded of me, my friend Lucilius, how it should come to passe (if so be the world were gouerned by any Prouidence) that so many euils befall good men? I might more readily and fitly giue thee an answere hereunto in a place of this Discourse, where I intend to proue that Pro­uidence hath a power ouer all things, and that God is alwayes present with vs. But since it is thy pleasure that I diuide this part from the whole, and that I satisfie thee in this one contradiction, permitting the rest of the question to remaine vn­touched. I will performe it, since I know it is no hard matter to pleade the cause of the gods. It should be labour lost at this present, to make proofe, that this great frame of the world could not be sustained without som gouernor and superintendent. That those so certaine motions, and courses of the Planets and Starres, haue not this violent vehemencie, by casualtie or accident, that that which is pushed on by Fortune, and peraduenture is oftentimes troubled, and hindereth it selfe. That this swiftnesse which is neuer interrupted by any ob­stacle, is gouerned by the commandement of an eternall law. That this goodly order and gouernment, that beareth and sustaineth all things in the earth, and in the sea, so many cleare lights which shine in the heauens, wherein they were disposed, is not by the order of a wandering and inconstant matter. That that which sho [...]d be a [...]embled rashly and casually, could not remaine suspended, with so wonderfull workmanship. To shew also how the waight of the earth remaineth vnmoueable, beholding the swift motion of the heauens, which whirleth about her incessantly. How the seas being spred thorow the deep val­leyes, mollifie the earth, and receiue no encrease by the entrie of all other ri­uers. How from a very little seede, there groweth out a bodie of wonderfull greatnes, & how euen those things which seeme most incertain and confused, I speake of clouds and raines, of the claps of thunder and lightning, of fires and flames that enforce their passage thorow the tops of the highest mountaines, of the earth-quakes which sinke and open the ground, and other accidents, which that part of nature which is most stormie and tempest [...]ous, may mooue about the earth, how sudden and vnexpected soeuer they be, are neuer raised without reason. They haue their causes as well as they, which, as we see doe suddenly and miraculously breake forth in some strange and vnaccustomed places, such as are the sources of hot waters in the middest of some riuers, and new Isles that raise themselues out of the depth of a large sea. Furthermore, if a man will obserue it, how the sea-shores vpon the ebbe of the waters, become naked and discouered; and how anon after, vpon the floud, the waters returne and couer them againe, he will beleeue that by a certaine blinde volutation, that the [Page 499] waues are contracted and buried one within another, sometimes enlarged, and with swift streames returne into their bed. Although, in truth, they encrease by little and little, and at a certaine day and houre become more great and small, according to the estate and disposition of the Moone, which causeth the flux and reflux of the sea. But leaue we this discourse vntill another time, and the rather because thou doubtest not, but complainest of Prouidence. I will reconcile thee to the gods, who are fauourable to those that are good men: for Nature suffereth not, that those things which are good, should be hurtfull to the good. A Stoicall Pa­radox, which cannot be vn­de [...]ood, nor wel expressed in the Schooles of hu­manitie, but in that of the holy Ghost. Examine it iudicially. Vertue hath contracted an amiable friendship betwixt good men and God. Say I friendship? Nay rather a kindred, and likewise, because a good man onely differeth from God but in time, he is his scholler, his follower and his true childe, whom that magnificent parent, a seuere exactor of vertues, bringeth vp to hardnesse, as austere fathers doe their children. When as there­fore thou shalt see good men, and such as are acceptable to the gods, trauaile, sweat, and ascend high places: and contrariwise, the euill play the wantons, and flow in pleasures: thinke with thy selfe, that we are delighted with the mo­destie of our children, and the libertie of our gibing slaues: that the one are restrained vnder a seuere discipline, whilest the other are supported and main­tained in their impudence. Know thou that God doth the like. He maketh not a good man a wanton: he proues him, he hardens him against afflictions, he po­lisheth and fashioneth him to the end he may serue him.

CHAP. II.

BVt why doe many aduersities befall good men? Vpon the en­trance of the matter, [...]e pro­ueth by most strong argu­ments, enrich [...]d with excellent similitudes, and notable exam­ples, that afflicti­ons are honora­ble, pleasant, profitable and [...]ecessarie to ver­tuous men; and that they are no wayes to be e [...]ee­med pernicious. No euill may happen vnto a good man: contraries cannot be mixed together. Euen as so many riuers, so many showers powring from the heauens, so many springs of medicinable fountaines, change not the sauour of the sea, much lesse alter it: so the shocke of aduer­sitie peruerteth not the courage of a vertuous man. Hee continueth on, and whatsoeuer happeneth, hee turneth it to his good. For hee is more powerfull then all externall things; nay more then this, hee apprehendeth them not, but surmounteth them, and continuing peaceable in himselfe, he resisteth all contra­rie incumbrances. He accounteth his aduersities, his exercises. What man is he that hath his minde intended and setled vpon honestie, that is not desirous of conuenient labour, and is readie voluntarily to expose himselfe to dangers? What industrious man reputeth not idlenes to be a punishment? We see that wrastlers, who haue a care of their strength, doe contend with the strongest whatsoeuer, and importue them, who fashion themselues to those exercises, to vse their vttermost forces against them: they suffer themselues to be beaten and bruised, and if they finde no single man that may equall them, they offer them­selues to encounter with many at once. Vertue hath no vertue, if it be not im­pugned, then appeareth it how great it is, of what value and power it is, when by patience it approueth what it may. Thou ar [...] to conceiue that good men ought to doe the like, that the greatest and sharpest aduersities must not asto­nish them, and that they ought not to complaine of Fa [...]e. Whatsoeuer befal­leth them, let them take it in good part, and turne it to their good. It importeth not what burthen thou bearest, but with what courage thou endurest it. Seest thou not what difference there is betweene the fathers loue, and the mothers [Page 500] cockering. They command them to rise earely to follow their studies diligent­ly, and on holy-dayes likewise they suffer them not to be idle, sometimes they enforce sweate from their browes, and teares from their eyes. But their mo­thers nestle them in their bosomes, and keepe them out of the Sunne; they ne­uer suffer them to crie, to be sad, or to labour. God hath a fatherly minde to­wards good men, and he loueth them strongly. And let them, saith he, haue labours, losses, and paines, to the end they may recouer a true strength. The bodies that are ouer-fattened doe languish in idlenesse, and not only too much [...]ase, but also their owne grease and waight maketh them sinke vnder it. Vn­tainted felicitie can suffer no affliction, but if a man striueth continually against his owne calamities: he accustometh and inureth himselfe to aduersities, nei­ther giueth he place to any dolor, but although he be cast downe, yet fighteth he on his knee. Doest thou wonder that God, who loueth good men so entire­ly, who would that they should be the best and most excellent aboue all others, doth assigne them fortune to fight withall? I for mine owne part wonder not, that the gods sometimes take pleasure to behold worthy men wrastling against some aduersitie. Sometimes it delighteth vs, if wee behold a yong man of a constant resolution, that encountreth a wilde beast with his hunting-staffe, that dreadlesse withstandeth the incursion of a Lion, and the more pleasing is the spectacle vnto vs, the more valiantly he behaueth himselfe. These are not those things that may conuert the face of the gods towards vs, but childish pastimes of humane leuitie. But wilt thou see a spectacle that meriteth, that God should intentiuely behold the worke, fix thine eye vpon it, behold a couple of comba­tants worthy the presence of God? That is to say, a generous man planted be­fore aduerse Fortune, challenging her hand to hand. I see not, say I, what thing Iupiter hath more admirable vpon the earth, if he would fix his minde vpon the same, then to behold Cato remaining firme and resolute, after his confederates had been more then once defeated and inuincible amiddest his countries ruines. Although, saith he, that on [...] only man be Lord of the whole world, although hee haue legions and garrisons in euery Prouince, though the seas bee couered with his ships, and Caesars troopes stop vp all the passages. Cato hath a meanes to worke his libertie, with one hand hee shall make a broad way to his libertie. This But this which Seneca pr [...]seth so highly in a man that sl [...]w himselfe, is but a Pa [...]ado [...] of the Stoicks, [...]esu [...]ed ex [...]ress [...]ly b [...] Na­ [...], by the l [...]w of Nation [...], and condemned by the expresse word of God: for it is vnlawfull [...]or a liuing man to [...]or [...]ake this pri­son of his bodie, at his owne indi­rect ple [...]sure. sword, which during the ciuill warres, hath remained iust and innocent, shall finally performe some good and noble actions, and giue Cato libertie, who could not giue his countrie freedome: my soule execute thou that act which thou hast long time meditated vpon; deliuer thy selfe from these worldly bu­sinesses. Petreius and Iuba haue alreadie encountred, and each are slaine by one anothers hands. A stout and worthie conuention of destinie, but such as be­commeth not our greatnesse. It is as shamefull a thing for Cato to require death, as to beg life at any mans hands. I assure my selfe, that the gods with great ioy beheld, when this great and worthie personage, a powerfull protector of him­selfe, trauelled to saue others, and gaue them meanes to escape: who likewise in that last night of his life he followed his studie, whilest he thrust his The soueraigne Captaine and Lord of our lines, is to as­signe vs th [...] day, the hou [...]e, and the meanes. Nei­ther i [...] it the all of a generous man to lese cou­rage, and to thinke that his a [...]ires s [...]ands so des [...]ate, that he [...]ll so dis­charge himselfe of busin [...]sse, as th [...]reby he pr [...] ­iudice [...]is owne soule, and his ne [...]ghbors estate.sword in­to his belly, whilest he scattered abroad his bowels, and with his hands drew out of his bodie that so blessed soule of his vnworthie to be contaminated by the sword. Whereupon I am driuen to beleeue, that the wound was not large and deepe enough. It sufficed not the immortall gods to behold Cato once, ver­tue was retained, and reuoked, to the end that in a greater difficultie hee might approue himselfe. For there is more greater resolution in dying the second or third time, then in dying at the first. And why should they not willingly be­holde [Page 501] their darling escaping by so noble and memorable a death, death conse­crateth those whos [...] [...]nd they praise, who feare to vndergo the like.

CHAP. III.

BVt now in the processe of my discourse I wil shew how far they are from miseries that are reputed so to be: Secondly, [...]e pro­ueth that euill, that is to say, af­fliction turneth to their good who are ver [...]uous. The first reason is, That as to heale the body we sometimes torment and maim the same, so doth good in regard of the rig [...]teous Se­condly, that those that are alwayes in pro­speritie, are in worst account with God, in that they haue not the courage to encounter fortune. for the present I tell thee that those which thou callest difficulties, aduersities, and abhomi­nable are first of all for the good of those to whom they happen, and afterwards for other mens good of whom the gods haue more care then of euery one in particular. Secondly, that nothing befalleth good men but that which they would, and they should discerne that euill should light vp­pon them if they would not. Hereunto will I annex, that these things are done by Fate, and in as much as vertuous men are good, all that which befortuneth them is good: consequently I will teach thee, and make thee confesse that thou oughtest neuer to say, I haue pittie of such a good man, for a man may terme him miserable, but indeed he is not nor cannot be. That which I spake first see­meth to be the most harshest of all that which I haue propounded, that those euils which we quake and tremble at, turne to their good, to whom they hap­pen. Is it for their good, sayest thou, to be banished, to be brought to pouertie, to be depriued of their wiues and children, and to be inforced to burie them, to be defamed, and weakened? If thou be astonished heereat, thou wilt won­der more if I approue it to be for their good, that some are cured by Iron and Fire, and by hunger and thirst likewise; but if thou bethinke thy selfe that for remidie sake, some haue their bones scaled and scarified, their veines ta­taken out, and some of their members cut off, which without the hazard of the whole bodie could not be left on, thou wilt suffer this likewise to be pro­ued, that som incommodities are for their good to whom they happen, as much in truth as there are some things which being praised and desired are hurtfull to those that long after them, as ouer-eating and drinking, and such like pleasures, which engender crudities, trouble the braine, and kill the bodie. Amongst di­uers notable sayings of Demetrius the Stoicke, I remember me of one, which as yet soundeth and tingleth in mine eares; There is nothing, saith he, more vnhappy then that man that hath neuer beene touched with aduersitie: for he hath not had the meanes to know himselfe. Although all things hee could desire had befalne him, yea, before he could desire; yet haue the gods thought euill of him. He seemed to bee vnworthy that fortune should at any time be ouercome by him which disdaineth to attempt any recreant or coward: as if she said, Why should I admit of such an aduersarie? he will presently lay downe his weapons, what neede I imploy all my power against him? A slight threat will make him flie; he cannot abide to looke vpon me. Let another man be sought for, with whom I may enter combate. I am ashamed to encounter with a man that is ready to be conquered. The Fencer thinketh it a disgrace for him to be matched with his inferiour, and knoweth that he is ouercome without glorie that is conque­red without danger. The like doth fortune, she seeketh for the strongest to match her, some passeth she ouer with a scorne, she attempteth the most confi­dent and couragious sort of men, against these employeth she her forces: she tryeth her fire vpon See Liuie and Plutarch in the life of Publico­la. Mucius, pouertie in See Plutarch in Pyr [...]hus life, and Titus Li­uius. Fabricius, banishment in See the Epi­tome of Titus Liuius. lib. 70. and Valerius Maximus. lib. 2 cap. 10. Rutilius, torments in Regulus, poyson in Socrates, death in Cato. Euill fortune seekes out [Page 502] no man except he be a great one. Is Mu [...]ius vnhappy because with his right hand he grasped his enemies [...]ire, and chastised [...] the errour he committed by burning of his hand, for putting that enemy to flight by his scorched fist, whom with his armed hand he could not vanquish? What then should he haue beene more happie, had he warmed his hand in his Misteresse bosom? Is Fabricius vn­happie for digging vp his Garden, at such time as he had no publique charge? for waging warre as well against riches as against Pyrrhus? for supping by the fire vpon those rootes and hearbes which he himselfe being an olde man, who had triumphantly entred Rome, had gathered in clensing and weeding his gar­den? What then, should he haue beene more happie if he had filled his bellie with fishes, fetched from a farre and forraine shoare, and of fowles fetched from a strange countrey? If he had whetted the dulnesse of his loathing [...]tomacke with shell-fish, fetched from the higher and lower Seas? If he had enuironed with a great heape of apples the most hugest sauage beast, which cost many men their liues before she was killed. Is Rutilius vnhappy, because they that haue condemned him shall be condemned in all ages, who more willingly suf­fered himselfe to be rauished from his country, then to be remitted of his exile? because he alone opposed himselfe against the Dictator Scilla, and when he was recalled, not onely kept backe but sled farther off? Let they, saith he to Scilla, whom thy great fortune entangleth in Rome, thinke this, that they beholde a riuer of bloud in the Market-place, and aboue the Lake of Seruilius (for that was the place where they dispoyled those whom Scilla by publique Proclamations had condemned to die) the heads of Senators, and the troopes of Murtherers, running thorow the streets of the Cittie, and diuers thousands of Romane Cit­tizens, murthered in that place after thou hast shopt them vp, with promise to saue their liues, and notwithstanding trayterously causing them to be slaine; let those that cannot endure to be banished feed their eyes with such spectacles. What then, is Lucius Scilla happy, because that in comming downe to the Mar­ket-place his guard made him way with their weapons? because he suffered the heads of Consuls to be hanged vp, Titus Liuius, Publius, Vale­riu [...], Max [...]mus, and Cicero doe all of them make h [...]norable men­tion of this man, to whose mag­na [...]imitie Se­neca opposed M [...]aenas deli­cacie. and maketh the Quaestor pay him the price of euery head which is taxed in his Proclamations; and all these things doth he that made the Law Cornelia. Let vs come to Regulus; what harme did for­tune to him in making him the patterne of fidelitie and patience? The nayles fasten and pierce his skin, and on what side soeuer he turneth his wearied bodie, he lies vpon his wounds; neyther can he close his eyes, but watcheth incessant­ly. The more torment he hath, the more glorie shall bee his. Wilt thou know how farre off he is from repenting himselfe for estimating vertue at so high a rate? Cheere him vp, and send him backe againe to the Senate, he will be still of the same opinion. Thinkest thou therefore that Mecaenas is more hap­pie, who could not sleepe but by the harmonie of pleasing musique that soun­ded a farre off by reason of his iealousie, and because he was strangely tormen­ted with the crosses of his fantastique wife, which vpon euery slight occasion threatned him with diuorce. Although he drowne himselfe in wine to make him drowsie, and by the noyse of water, poured out of one bason into another intice his eyes to sleepe: be it that he charme his sorrowes with a thousand pastimes, he shall sleepe as little on his feather-bed as Regulus on the gibbet. But the one comforted himselfe, because he suffered for honestie that affliction he endured, and his patience regarded the cause of those torments. The other spent in delights, and broken with too much ease, is more tormented with the occasion then the euill it selfe, which he endureth; vices haue not gotten so [Page 503] strong a possession of mortall men, that it is to be doubted, if so be the destinie would giue them their choyse whether diuers had not rather resemble Regulus, then be borne Mecaenas. Or if there were any that durst say that he would be borne Mecaenas and not Regulus; the same man, although he hold his peace, had rather be borne This was Me­caenas fantas [...]i­call and trouble­some wise. Terentia. Thinkest thou that Socrates was badly handled because he drunke that potion which was publiquely mixed, no otherwise then if it had beene a medicine of immortalitie, and disputed of death till death sea­sed him? Thinkest thou that he was ill dealt withall, because his bloud was con­gealed, and that by little and little the force of his veynes failed him? whilst colde in the extremitie stole vp to his heart by little and little: how much more rather ought we to enuie his felicitie, then those who are serued in precious stones, wherein an old and decayed Minion of his trimmed vp to endure all things, poureth vp from aboue the melted Snow into his golden cup. These men whatsoeuer they drinke they vomit and cast it vp againe, with a certaine loathing, and are constrained to retast their bitter spittle. But Socrates swallow­eth the poyson voluntarily and ioyfully. As touching Cato, there is sufficiently spoken, and the whole consent of men will confesse that he attained the greatest felicitie whom God made choise of, to rush and conquer those things that were to be feared. Are the displeasures of great men grieuous? Oppose him alone to Pompey, Caesar and Crassus. It is a grieuous thing to be outstripped by men of no worth in dignitie and honor, but Cato disdaineth not to come after Vatinius. It is a grieuous thing to be an actor in ciuill warres; but Cato in a iust quarrell will fight in euery corner of the world, although the issue be both strange and miserable. It is a grieuous matter for a man to murther himselfe, yet will he do it. What shall I, saith nature, get hereby? This; that all men may know that these are not euils, which I thought Cato worthy of.

CHAP. IIII.

PRosperitie falleth into the hands of the common sort, In [...] [...]hird plac [...] [...]e sheweth that a [...]lictions are honourable, and that the greatnesse of men [...] as it were circum­scribed. and betideth those of weakest spirit: but to yoake and master calamities and mortall terrours is the propertie of a great man. But to be al­wayes happy, and to passe away life without any pressure of the minde, is to be ignorant that affliction is one part of mans life. Thou art a great man; but how shall I know it, if fortune giue thee not leaue and meanes to make proofe of thy vertue. Thou wentest to the Olympian games, but no man but thy selfe [...] thou hast the crowne, but not the victorie. I applaude not thy fortune as if thou wert a great and valiant man, but as if thou hadst gotten some Consulate or Praetorship. Thou art increased in honour. The like can I say to a good man; if some misfortune hath not giuen him any occasion, whereby to make show of the liuely forces of his mind. I repute thee wretched because thou wert neuer wretched, thou hast past thy life without an aduersarie. No man, no not thy selfe shall be able to know thy value: for to the end a man may well know himselfe, he ought to make proofe of himselfe. No man knoweth his owne abilitie except he make triall thereof. And there­fore some men haue wilfully and vnprouoked exposed themselues to miseries, and sought an occasion to make their vertue already declining and growing to obscuritie, more glorious and esteemed. Great men, say I, doe reioyce as much in aduersities as valiant souldiers doe in warre. I heard a Fencer in C [...]ius Caesars [Page 504] time, complaine of the rarenesse of rewards: How faire an age, saith he, is past; vertue gapeth after danger, and thinketh on that which she intendeth, not that which she is to suffer, because that which she is to suffer is a part of her glorie. Valiant souldiers glorie in their wounds, and ioyfully shew the bloud that run­neth from them, i [...] it be spent in a good cause. Although they doe the like who returne in safetie from the battel, yet is he more respected that returneth woun­ded. God, say I, hath a care of those men whom he desireth to make the most honest, as often as he giueth them an occasion to doe any thing stoutly and manfully, to the performance whereof there needeth some difficultie and dan­ger. Thou shalt know a Master of a Ship in a tempest, and a Souldier in the battel: how can I know how thou art addressed against pouerty, if thou aboun­dest in riches? How can I know what constancie thou hast against ignominie, in­famie, and popular hate, if thou grow olde amidst the applauses of euerie man; if an inexpugnable fauour seconded by a certaine inclination of mens minds to­wards thee, attendeth thee perpetually? Whence know I that thou wilt pati­ently endure the losse of thy children, if I see thee laugh when they come into the world? I haue heard thee comfort others, but then would I willingly haue seene thee, if thou hast comforted thy selfe, if thou hast commanded thy selfe to grieue no more. Feare not these things, I beseech you, which the immor­tall gods vse as spurres to quicken and awaken our mindes. Calamitie is an oc­casion of vertue. Iustly may a man tearme them miserable, that are surfetted with too much felicitie, who are detained in an idle tranquillitie, as a ship in a calme sea, whatsoeuer shall befall them will bee new vnto them. Calamities presse them most shrewdly, that haue neuer had experience of them. A tender necke hardly brooketh the yoake. A yong souldier waxeth pale vpon the feare of a wound. An old beaten souldier doth boldly see himselfe bleed, who know­eth that oft-times in losing his blood he hath conquered his enemie. God there­fore animateth, reknowledgeth, and exerciseth those whom he approueth and loueth: but those whom he seemeth to fauour and spare, he reserueth them by reason of their weaknesse, for the euils to come, for it is a folly to thinke that any one is exempt. He whom thou thinkest so assured in his happinesse, shall haue his turne, and taste the same cup; whosoeuer seemeth dismissed, is but deferred. Why doth God afflict the best men with sicknesse, The reason why God a [...]l [...]cteth good m [...]n. and other incommodities? Why in the Campe are the souldiers of greatest value, commanded to execute the exploits of greatest danger? The Generall sendeth out the most chosen troopes to charge the enemie with an onslaught by night, either to skout the way, or to driue some forces frome their trenches. None of those who sally out saith, The Generall hath done me wrong, but he hath honored me. Let them say the like, whosoeuer are commanded to suffer, for which fearefull men and cowards weepe. We haue beene thought worthy by God to be esteemed such, in whom hee might make triall, how much humane nature may suffer. Flie delights, flie from effeminate felicitie, whereby our mindes are mollified, except something happen that may admonish them of their humane condition, who are, as it were benummed with perpetual drunkennesse. A perpetuall fe­licitie, [...] a [...]n­ded by a [...]daine misfortune. He that hath beene alwayes defended from the winde by his glasse-windowes, whose feet are kept warme by much wrapping, who suppeth not, except it be in his stoue, is not without danger of catching cold vp­on the smallest breath of winde. Since all excesse is hurtfull, an vnmeasurable prosperitie is most dangerous: It moueth the braine, distracteth the mind with vain resemblances, and spreadeth many mists betwixt truth and falshood. Why should it not be better to endure perpetuall infelicitie, which animateth vnto [Page 505] vertue, then to be broken with infinite and immoderate prosperitie? Death is not so tedious as too long fasting, and with too much cruditie they cracke their bodies. The gods therefore behaue themselues towards good men, as the ma­sters doe t [...]wards their schollers, who require more labour at their hands, of whom they haue the greatest hope. Belieuest thou that the Lacedemonians ha­ted their children, who make triall of their disposition and nature, by whipping them publikely? Contrariwise, those fathers exhort their children to suffer the iercks of their whips confidently, and entreat them, being torne and halfe dead with their scourgings, to perseuere, and to endure wounds vpon wounds. Won­der we that God maketh triall of the most generous spirits by aduersitie? Ver­tuous instructions are neuer delicate. Doth Fortune beate and rent vs? Let vs suffer it. This is no crueltie, it is but a conflict. The more we aduenture it, the stronger shall wee be. The hardest part of our bodie is that which trauaileth most: we must offer our selues to the hands of Fortune, to the end shee may make vs more confident to encounter her. By little and little she will make vs as strong as her selfe. To be continually in danger, maketh a man set light by danger. So are Sailers bodies inured to brooke the sea; so are husbandmens hands hardened; so are sould [...]ers armes strengthened to dart their weapons, so are their members made nimble that runne races. Exercise maketh dangers slight, That in euery thing is most strongest, which is most exercised. By contemning the power of euils, the minde attaineth patience, which thou shalt know what it can effect in vs, if thou consider how much labour effecteth in naked bodies, & such as are strengthned by necessitie [...] Consider all Nations which are beyond the confines of the Ro­mane Empire. I meane the Germaines, and all those that dwell about Ister, and those wandring Nations of the Scythians, and other perpetuall winter, and a thicke aire continually presseth them; a barren soile sustaineth them: they de­fend themselues from showers, with leaues and sheddes of thatch, they trauell ouer riuers hardened with ice, and take the repast vpon the flesh of wilde beasts. Seeme they wretched vnto thee? Nothing is miserable that Nature hath brought into a custome, for by little and little those things become pleasant vn­to them, which began vpon necessitie. They haue no houses, they haue no biding place, but that which wearinesse hath allotted them for a season. Their meate is homely and gotten by their owne hands: the aire is extreamely cold, and their bodies are naked; this which seemeth calamitie vnto thee, is the life of so many Nations. Why wondrest thou that good men are shaken, to the end they may be confirmed? The last proofe enriched with an excellent si­militude. There is no solide or s [...]rong tree, that hath not beene often shaken by the winde, for by the often shaking thereof it is streng­thened, and fateneth his roote more assuredly. They that grow in the low val­leyes are the weakest. It is therefore profitable for good men, to make them more assured to be alwayes conuersant amongst dangers, and to endure those accidents with a constant minde, which are not euils, except to him that bea­reth them euilly.

CHAP. V.

For the [...]ourth prin [...]ipall consi­deration, h [...]e sheweth that the vertuous are af­flicted, f [...]r the good and instru­ction of all men. LEt vs adde now, how for the good of all men, euery one of the better sort (if I may so speake it) beare armes and performe acti­ons. This is the purpose of God to make it knowne vnto a wise man, that those things which the common people long after, and which they are afraid of, are neither good nor euill. And they shall appeare to be good: if he bestow them on none but good men, and to be [...]uill, if he hath reserued them only for euill men. Blindnesse were detestable, if no man should lose his eyes except they were pulled out. Let therefore The one of these by [...]irname was called blind, and [...]h [...] other lost his eyes by [...]ire. Ap­pius and Metellus want their sight, and be miserable herein. Riches are not the true good, and therefore let Ellius the baud enioy them in such sort, as they who haue giuen him money in the Temples, may see it in the Brothel-house. God can by no better meanes traduce those things, which we so much couet, then in bestowing them on men most infamous, and detayning them from men most vertuous. But it is an iniust thing, that a good man should be weakened, hanged vp, or imprisoned, and that euill men should walke, with whole, healthfull, and effeminate bodies. What then? Is it not an vnreasonable matter, that valiant men should take armes, should watch in the trenches, and hauing their wounds but newly bound vp, should maintaine the breach, whilest lasciuious men, and such as professe wanton lust, sleepe securely in the Citie? What then? Is it not a most shamefull matter, that the most noblest Virgins should be awakened at mid-night to celebrate the sacred ceremonies, and that harlets should enioy their quiet sleepes? Labour summoneth the best. The Senate oft-times is all day long in counsell, when at that time the basest companions whatsoeuer, ei­ther take their pastimes in the fields, or lie hidden in an Ale-house, or lose their time in chatting amongst their companions. The like is done in this great Common-weale of the world, good men must labour, they employ their time, and are e [...]ployed by others, and are not enforcedly drawne by Fortune, but they follow her, and walke by her, step by step, and had they knowne it, they had out [...]ript her. And I remember likewise, that I haue heard this manly speech of Demetrius that worthy fellow: In this one thing, O immortall gods, I can complaine of you, that you haue not made knowne vnto me what your will was. For of my selfe I had first of all come vnto these things, to which being now called, I present my selfe. Will you take my children from me? I haue brought them vp to that end. Will you haue a part of my bodie? Take it to you. I promise no great matter, I will suddenly leaue all. Will you haue my spirit? Why not? I will not deferre to restore that vnto you, which you haue bestowed vpon me. I will willingly satisfie whatsoeuer you request. A [...] of [...] St [...]k [...]s [...]ou­ [...]ng [...] Reader [...] to S Augustine in [...] De C [...]tate [...], and fifth Chapter, and other [...] that [...] written after [...]. What is it then? I had rather present it you then deliuer it vnto you. What need had you to take away the same, you might haue commanded it, neither now shall you take it away, be­cause nothing is taken away, but that which is taken from him that detaineth the same. I am not compelled, I suffer nothing vnwillingly; neither doe I serue God but assent vnto him, and so much the rather, because I know that all things h [...]ppen by an eternall and vnchangeable ordinance of God. Destinie leadeth vs, and the first honor of euery mans birth hath gouerned all the rest of his life. One cause dependeth vpon another, and the long order of things draweth with it all that which is done in publike or in priuate. There­fore is each thing to be endured constantly, because all things fall not out as [Page 507] we That is, things happen not by chance, but are made and [...]ome by an immuta­ble decree. imagine, but come. Long since it was decreed, whereat thou shouldest ioy or sorrow, and although euery mans life seemeth to be distinguished in dif­ferent and great varietie, yet notwithstanding all commeth to one point, we haue receiued those things which will decay, and we our selues must die. Why are we so displeased? Whence groweth our complaint? We are ordained here­unto. Let Nature vse our bodies how shee list. Let vs merrily and constantly thinke thus, that we lose nothing of our owne. To answere this obiect on, be relieth on the Paradox of the Stoickes, who tie the first cause which is God, to secondarie cau­ses, whereas Christian Phylo­sophy teacheth vs the contrarie, and himselfe hereafter [...] hath sufficiently an­swered hereunto. What is that which is proper and bes [...]eming in a good man? to commit himselfe to the hands of Destinie. It is a great solace to be carried away with the whole world. Whatsoeuer it be that hath commanded vs to liue thus, and to die thus, by the same necessitie ti­eth the gods. An irreuocable course carrieth away together both humane and diuine things. The same Creator and Gouernour of all things hath written the Fates, and he himselfe followeth that which he hath written, he hath once commanded, and alwayes obeyeth. Why therefore was God so vniust in di­stributing Fate, that to good men he ascribed pouertie, wounds, and cruell death? The work-master cannot change his matter, it is subiect to suffer this Some things there are that cannot be separated from other things, they cleaue one vnto another, and are indiuisible. The spirits that are weake, or like to grow dull, or to fall into a watch fulnesse like vnto sleepe, are framed of slow elements. To frame a man that should make himselfe spoken of there needeth a stronger Fate. His iourney must be no ordinar [...]e way. He must trauell high and low, he must haue stormes, and must gouerne his ship in a swolne sea; he must shape his course against Fortune. Hee shall haue many hard and dangerous accidents to confront him, but such as he himselfe may smooth and make plaine. Fire trieth gold, and aduersitie valiant men. Behold how high vertue should ascend, and thou shalt know that she must not goe in securitie.

The first which with vnwearied steeds I clime,
Is such a iourney, that their ceaselesse toyle
Can scarcely reach before the morrowes prime,
The next is highest heau'n, from whence the soyle
And spacious seas, I see with dreadfull eye
And fearefull heart, the next whereto I hie,
Is steepe, and pro [...]e, and craues a cunning guide,
An [...] then doth THETIS shake her selfe for dread,
Lest headlong I should fall and downward glide,
And burie in her waues my golden head.

When the generous yong man had heard these things, I like, saith he, the way, and will attempt it. Is it such a matter to shape so faire a course, and to fall after­wards? The father notwithstanding desisted not to terrifie his too forward minde thus:

And that thou mayst continue in the way,
Be carefullest thy posting Steeds doe stray,
Yet shalt thou passe by Taurus who will bend
His hornes to crosse thee, whither thou dost tend,
Th' AEnomian Archer, and the Lion sell
Shall stay thy course, and fright thee where they dwell.

[Page 508] After this he saith, Coople thy granted team [...]. I am animated by these things, wherewith thou thinkest to affright me. I am resolued to stand there, where the Sunne it selfe shall tremble. It is the part of a base and recreant minde to trauell in securitie [...] Vertue alwayes climeth hard and difficult pathes.

CHAP. VI.

The fist and principall point, wherein he sh [...]w­eth that there is no euill but in vice [...] Whence it felloweth that the vi [...]tuous en­dure no euill, and that this name ought not be giuen to af­flictions. BVt why doth God permit that good men should suffer wrong? Vndoubtedly he permitteth it not. He remoueth all euils from them, hainous sinnes and offences, cursed cogitations, greedie cousels, blinde lusts, and auarice that coueteth another mans for­tunes, he defendeth and restraineth them. Doth any man require this at Gods hands, that he should take paine also to keepe good mens budgets. They acquit God of this care, they contemne externall things. Democrates cast away riches, supposing them to be the burthen of a good minde. Why won­derest thou therefore, if God suffer that to happen to a wise-man, that a good man sometimes would wish, that hee might sometimes light vpon. Good men lose their children. Why not? When as the time will come that they themselues must die. They are banished: Why not? When as sometime they forsake their Countrie, with this resolution neuer to see it againe. They are slaine: Why not? when as sometimes they themselues will lay hands on themselues. Why suffer they some aduersities? to the end they may teach others to suffer the like. They are borne to be a patterne. Thinke therefore that God saith: What cause haue you, who haue taken pleasure in vertue, to complaine of me. I haue enuironed some with deceiueable goods, and haue mocked their vaine mindes with a long and deceitfull dreame. I haue decked them with gold, siluer and Iuorie, but inwardly there is nothing good in them. These whom you admire for their happinesse, if you looke into them, not according to their exteriour greatnesse, but their interiour weakenesse, they are miserable, base, silthie, and like their walles, onely painted on the outside. This is no solide and sincere felicitie, it is but a crust, and that a thinne one. Therefore as long as they may stand vpright, and not shew themselues but where they list: they shine and abuse the common eye. But if any thing hap­peneth, that troubleth and discouereth them, then shalt thou see a sea of villa­nie and filth hidden vnder their borrowed brightnesse. I haue giuen you true and permanent goods. The more you examine and looke into them euerie wayes, the better and the more greater will they appeare to be. I haue permit­ted you to contemne those things which are to be feared, to loath those things that are to bee desired, you shall not shine outwardly, Againe, he returneth to his Paradox, tying God vnto secon­darie causes. your goods are tur­ned inward. So the world contemneth his exteriour parts, and conten­teth himselfe with the contemplation of himselfe. I haue placed all good in­wardly. It is your felicitie, not to want felicitie. But diuers pitifull, dread­full, and intollerable things fall out. Because I could not deliuer you from these euils, I haue armed your minds against all things. Suffer manfully, this is the way whereby you may walke before God, he is without the patience of euill you aboue the patience. Contemne pouertie, no man liueth so poore as he was borne. Contemne paine, it will either b [...] ended, or end vs. Contemne Fortune, I haue giuen her no weapon to wound the minde. Contemne death, [Page 509] which eyther endeth you or transferreth you [...] Another Pa­radox, placing death in the po­ [...]er and will of a man, whereas man ought to at­tend the same from the ordi­nance of God: Esteeme this as an Eth [...]ique error, gather the flowers, let the weeds passe. Aboue all things I haue giuen you, warning that no man should keepe you liuing against your will. If you will not fight you may flie; therefore of all things which I would haue necessary for yo [...] I made nothing more cas [...]e then death [...] I haue planted the soule in a bale place, whence a man may deliuer it: consider now and you shall see how short the way is vnto libertie, and how readie it is. I haue not prefixed you so long a way in your departure as I haue giuen you at your entrance, otherwise fortune had held a great dominion ouer you, if a man should die as slowly as he is born. Let euery time and place teach you how easie a thing it is to renounce nature, and to returne her that fauour she hath bestowed vpon you: learne you death amidst the Altars, and the solemne rites of those that sacrifice whilst life is wish­ed for. The bodies of the fattest Bulls are slaine with a small wound, and the stroake of a mans hand murthereth the beasts of the greatest strength. The ioynt that ioyneth the ne [...]ke to the head is diuided with a thin Knife, and when the nerues that tie them both together are cu [...], that great masse of the bodie [...]l­leth downe. Death is easie indeed, but ad­ [...]isedly adde hereunto, if it happen in such sort, and at such time as pleaseth God. The spirit is not hidden ouer [...]deepe, neyther need we to draw it out with hookes: we neede not inflict deepe wounds in our entrailes, death is at hand. I haue destinated no certaine place for these stroakes: life may find [...] by any place whatsoeuer. Euen that which is called death, whereby the soule departeth from the bodie, is shorter then that so great swiftnesse thereof may be sensible. Whether a man strangleth himselfe, or stop his breath by drowning himselfe, whether by falling on the ground [...] a mans head being forward, we beat out our braines, whether by swallowing downe quick coales of fire, you intercept the course of the departing soule, whatsoeuer it be it hasteneth. What doe you blush, why feare you that so long which is done so soone?

The end of the Booke of Prouidence.

A TREATISE OF ANGER, WRITTEN BY LVCIVS ANNAEVS SENECA TO HIS FRIEND NOVA [...]VS. THE FIRST BOOKE.

The Argument of IVS [...]VS LIPSIVS.

THe Bookes of Anger seeme to be written amongst the first Books of Phi­losophy vndoubtedly amongst those which we haue: we gather the same out of SENECAES owne words in his third Booke and eighteenth chap­ter. At this time CAIVS CAESAR caused SEXTVS PAPINIVS whose father was Consul, and BELENIVS BASSVS who was Thre­surer, to be whipped. He saith at this time, euen now but newly done, nay more, whilst CALIGVLA himselfe was liuing, out of the Chapter following. That which thou s [...] much admirest was vsuall and ordinary with this beast, he liueth for this, he watcheth for this, he studieth for this; vndoubtedly all these thing were spoken by a man that is, not that was. He wrote at that time therefore, but he published it not, the more his wise­dome, although as I suppose he did it shortly after his death.

The Argument is as the title testifieth; How to know Anger, and afterwards to es­chue it. The first Booke therefore hath the description thereof, and the loathsome habite and face of such as are angrie: then certaine definitions: then questions whether man onely be subiect thereunto? He maintaineth it: Whether it be according to nature? He [...]enieth it with the Stoicks. Whether it be profitable, especially if it be tempered? This likewise denieth he, and diuersly disput [...]th against the Peripatetiques: that neyther the minde nor the strength is whetted thereby. That we ought not to be angry, no not with those that are euill; neyther at the death of our father, nor at the rauishing of our mother, yet that they are to be defended and reuenged. To conclude, that this is a signe, not of a great but of a weake minde. The Bookes art in part very excellent and eminent in the whole, scarce distinct but confused in repetitions and digestions.

CHAP. I.

THOV hast exacted of me, No [...]atus was [...] [...]allus [...] [...]on. Nouatus, to write vn­to thee how wrath might bee pacified, neyther without cause seemest thou vnto me to haue fea­red this affection especially, which is the most cruell and enraged of all others: for in the rest there is somewhat that is pliant and pleasing, but this is alwayes violent and full of immoderate sorrow, of armes, of bloud, of punishments, incen­sed with more then humane desire, neglecting her selfe so she may hurt another, rushing in vpon the sharpest weapons, and greedy of reuenge, and complotting murthers. Some therefore of the wiser sort haue said that He [...] in th [...] [...] [...]ly [...] to Th [...]ist [...]us. Anger [Page 511] is a short madnesse, for she is as little Mistresse of her selfe as the other: she for­getteth all respect, neglecteth friendships, intent and obstinate in that she hath vndertaken, and neglectfull of reason, and incapable of counsaile: she is trans­ported by vaine pretexts, stupid in the presence of equitie and veritie, properly resembling the ruines of houses, which breake themselues vpon that ruine which they themselues haue beaten downe. And to the end thou mayest know that they who are surprised with Anger are truely mad, consider a little their countenance, and the manner of their behauiour. For euen as these are certaine signes of confirmed madnesse, to haue a bolde and threatning counte­nance, a heauie brow, and dreadfull face, a swift and disordered gate, vnquiet handes, changed colour, and frequent and deepe sighes: so those that are angry haue the same signes. Their eyes sparkle and shine, their face is on fire thorow a re [...]uxe of bloud that boileth vp from the bottom of their breasts, their lips quiuer, their teeth grate, their haire startleth and standeth vpright, their breath is inforced and wheeseth, they wrest and cracke their fingers, their speech is in­terrupted with plaints and grones and muttering, which a man may hardly vn­derstand. They often clap their hands, and stampe the ground with their feet; their whole bodie startleth, and is shaken, their actions are full of furious me­naces. In briefe, they haue a dreadfull and horrible countenance, resembling s [...]ch men that disfigure and puffe themselues vp after a strange fashion. Thou canst not say whether it be a more detestable or deformed vice: the rest we may hide and nourish in secret; Anger discouereth it selfe and appeareth in the countenance, & the greater it is, the more manifestly discouereth she her impa­tience. Seest thou not in brute beasts whatsoeuer, that as soone as they are ad­dressed to hurt, there are certaine signes as forerunners of their intention; how all their bodies giue ouer their peaceable and accustomed habite, and how they exasperate th [...]ir naturall fiercenes? The Boares some and gnash their teeth: the hornes of Bulls are tossed in the ayre, and by the trampling of their feete the sand is scattered: the Lions roare, the incensed Serpents haue swelling neckes, mad Dogs haue a dreafull look. There is no liuing creature so cruell and perni­cious whatsoeuer, that discouereth not some new furie, as soone as displeasure hath seized him; neyther am I ignorant that other affections also are scarcely hidden, and that lust [...] feare, and boldnesse make show of themselues, and may be foreknowne. For there is none so vehement and inward thought, that bewray­eth not it selfe in the countenance. What difference then is there, that other affections doe appeare, and this is eminent?

CHAP. II.

BVt now if thou wilt consider the effects and damages thereof there is no plague that hath ruined and cost the world more then this. That Ch [...]l [...]r and Anger is [...]urthful lo [...]s, be appro­ueth by exam­ple, and by the e [...]cts and dis­commodities thereof, se [...]ing Syllac [...] cruel­ [...]es, and the Tri­liui [...]ates tyranie for an example of hatred therof [...]o all men. Thou shalt see murthers, imprisonments, shamefull and mutuall reproches of guiltie men, sacking of Citties, ruines of whole nations, heads of Princes and great Lords taxed and solde to him that offereth most, houses burned, and fire not restrained within the walls of a Cittie, but whole spaces of Regions shining with hostile flame. Be­hold the foundations of the noblest Citties, now scarcely knowne, these hath wrath ouerturned. Behold the desert and vnhabited, extended to many thou­sand paces, these hath wrath dispoyled. Beholde so many great Chieftaines, [Page 512] whose memorie remaineth as yet seruing for examples of humane miserie. One of these hath wrath murthered in his bed, another hath wrath slaine at the ta­ble, without any respect of the sacred rites of the same, another hath she stabbed in the midst of the lanes, and in the market-place in the sight of all men: shee hath commanded another to offer his throate to the murtherous handes of his sonne; another to haue his Kingly throate cut by the sword of his slaue, an­other to haue his members di [...]ended vpon the gibbet. And as yet haue I but reckoned vp some particular mens punishments. But if thou please (pretermit­ting those whom Anger hath thus massacred man by man) to beholde whole Armies put to the sword, the people of a Cittie murthered by souldiers, expres­ly sent to that purpose, and whole Nations exterminated without sparing great or small, as if the gods cared not for vs, or they contemned their authoritie. But as touching the Fencers, why is it that the people are so iniustly incensed a­gainst them, that they repute it to be an iniurie done vnto them, if the sword-players kill not one another speedily, shewing by their countenances, gestures, and heate, that they suppose themselues to be neglected, making themselues by this meanes of spectators mercilesse enemies. Whatsoeuer it be this is not wrath, but a passion resembling wrath, such as is that of children, who if they haue falne will haue the earth beaten, and oft-times they know not with whom they are angrie, yet are they onely angrie without cause and without iniurie, and yet not without some appeareance of iniurie, nor without some desire of re­uenge. They are deluded therefore with counterfeit beatings of the earth, and are pacified by the feined teares of those that would still them, and by a coun­terfeit forme of reuenge their feined sorrow is extinguished.

CHAP. III.

WEe are oftentimes displeased (saith he) not with those that haue hurt vs, but with those who hereafter are like to hurt vs [...] to the end thou mayest know that Anger proceedeth not onely from an iniurie alreadie done. True it is, that we are angrie with those that should hurt vs, but those that harm vs in their very thought, and he that is to doe vs an iniurie, hath alreadie done it. To the end thou mayst know (saith he) that wrath is not a desire of reuenge, oft-times the weakest are displeased with the strongest. Neyther wish they for reuenge, which they hope not to see. We haue formerly said that wrath was a desire, and not a power to reuenge; but men desire such things as they cannot effect. Furthermore, no man is so humble and base, who cannot hope to see justice done vpon his grea­test aduersarie: 1 [...] de Anima. cap. 1. we haue power enough to hurt: Aristotles definition differeth not very much from ours; for he saith, That wrath is a desire to displease those that haue displeased vs. It were a long matter to discourse what difference there is betwixt this definition and ours: against both it is said that beasts are incen­sed, yet are they not prouoked by any iniurie, neyther desire they the punish­ment or paine of any other beast: for although they reuenge themselues, yet is it not with a desire of vengeance. But we must answer, that wilde beasts, and all other creatures, except man onely, do want Anger. For whereas it is opposite to reason, yet doth it neuer grow in any one, but such in whom reason hath place. Brute beasts haue their assaults, their rage, their fiercenesse and incursi­on, yet haue they Anger no more then lecherie, and in some pleasures they are [Page 513] more intemperate then man is. Thou must not giue credit to him that saith:

The Boare remembers not his wrathfull ire,
The Hind doth scarcely trust her swift retire.
Nor Beares to pray vpon the mightie h [...]ardes.

By this word anger, he intendeth emotion, or incitation. They know no more to be angrie, then how to pardon. Dumbe beasts want humane affections, but they haue certaine impulsions which resemble the same. Otherwise if loue were in them, hatred should be in them also: if friendship, enmitie: if discenti­on, concord: whereof some markes doe appeare in them. But good and euill are onely proper to the hearts of men. Wisdome, diligence, and cogitation, are only granted to a man, and bruite beast [...]s are not only not partakers of hu­mane vertues but are also exempted from their vices. All them, forme both ex­terium and interium is vnlike vnto mans. Their vnderstanding is grosse and im­perfect, their voice strange, confused, and without any signification, their tongue is tied, and hath no diuersities of sounds, neyther can it distinctly speake and pronounce. The beast then receiueth the obiect of that which shee seeth, and the kindes of all thinges that incite her vnto furie, but she receiueth them troubled and confused. Thence commeth their springings and vehement as­saults, which may not be called either feares, or cares, or sadnes, or displeasures, but some things like vnto these. Therefore is it that they are quickly appeased and are changed into a contrarie estate, and after they haue most inragedly exe­cuted there cru [...]ltie, they returne vnto their pasture and fodder, and after a neighing and furious course, they seeke out to their rest and sleep.

CHAP. IIII.

WE haue sufficiently declared what anger is, and wherein it differeth from an inclination to be carried in such sort, as a drunkard diffe­reth from drunkennesse, and a man that is afraid from a coward. A man may be angry; although he be not ordinarily inclined and subject to bee angrie, hee that is subject to displeasure, cannot choose but sometimes hee must bee subject to choller. As touching the other kinds of choller, which the Graecians expresse by diuers other names, I let them passe because we haue no proper words to expresse them, although that wee say that that which is sowre is bitter, that he that is excessiuely bent to indignation is mad, that hee that is cl [...]morous is hard to be reconciled and fierce, all which are differences of wrath, Differences of Anger. amongst th [...]se may we put froward, which is a delicate kind of choler. For there are some displeasures which are appeased with crying, some that are ordinarie and no lesse obstinate, some sparing in wordes and vio­lent in execution, some that discouer their bitternesse in the multitude of wordes and curses, some passe not further, then plaints and reproaches, some others are profound and weightie, and are fixed deeply in the thought. There are a thousand sorts of euils in this euill, which are so diuerse, and spread into so many branches.

CHAP. V.

Whether Anger be a thing na [...]u­rall, profitable, a [...]d to be rec [...]i­ued. WE haue examined what wrath is, and whether it might seaze any other Creature then a man, wherein it differed from displeasure and of the kinds of the same. Let vs now enquire whether wrath be according to nature, whether it be profitable, and whether in any sort wee ought to restraine the same. It will manifestly ap­peare whether it bee according to nature if wee consider a man, for there is no­thing so peaceable, and gouerned as he is, as long as his minde is gouerned and paci [...]ied: but what is more cruell then anger? what Creature, is more louing to­ward his like then man is? what is more hateful then wrath? A It is not na­turall. man is borne to h [...]lpe other, wrath for the generall ruine of all. A man desir [...]th nothing more then companie, wrath s [...]archeth solitude, the one will assist, the other wil hurt, this desireth to shew himselfe kind, though it be but to strangers, the other to endang [...]r her familiars. A man is readie to hazard his owne life to secure ano­thers. Wrath is readie to hazard danger, prouided, shee may hazard some o­ther with her selfe. Who therefore is more ignorant, of the nature of thinges, then hee that to her best and commendablest works assigneth this so sauage and pernicious a vice? Wrath as we said is greedie of vengeance, and that desire of reuenge should be in the most peaceable heart of a man, is a thing which is not consonant to his nature. For humane life consisteth vpon benefits and concord, it is not then by threat [...]s but by mutuall amitie that men are allied and ti [...]d to assist one an other. What then? Is not Chastisement sometimes necessarie? Why not? but this must be sincere and with reason. For it hurteth not but hea­leth vnder a resemblance of hurting. Euen as to straighten the steales of our Ia­velings, which are wax [...]n crooked, wee burne them and plie them in a vice of Iron or Wood, not to the intent to breake them, but make them more euen and straight: so correct wee our wits being depraued with vice, with the paine both of bodie and minde. An excellent Similitude. And in like sort, as the Physition, hauing some light infirmities in cure assaieth: First, to change some little of the ordinarie custome of the sicke to prescribe his dyet, his drinke, his exercises, and to confirme his health by the only changes of the order of his life. Secondly, hee indeuoureth to bring this to passe that this meanes may profit, and if it happen other wayes he diminisheth and cutteth of some thinges; and if this be not enough hee for­biddeth the sick-man all meates, and rectifieth his bodie by enioyning him ab­stinence: and if these gentle remedies haue effected nothing, he openeth a vaine and if any members be harmeful one vnto an other that cleaue vnto the same, and spread their euill thorow the bodie he deuideth them, and there is no cure that the sick-man supposeth gri [...]uous, if the effect of the same bring him health: In like sort it behoueth the Magistrate, The cure of the Ma [...]estrate, pro­p [...]ly applied to [...]h [...]t of the Phi­si [...]ion. who is the conseruer and maintainer of the Lawe to heale mens mindes, by gentle wordes and perswasions as much as in him lieth, perswading his subjects to doe that which is commanded them, and imprinting in their thoughts the loue of justice and honestie; in briefe pro­posing for the reward of vertue he hatred of vice: afterwardes he ought to vse sharper words contenting himselfe as yet to aduertise and threaten. Finally, he must haue reourse to punishments, and yet such as are light and revocable. The vttermost punishments shall be inflicted for the greatest faults: to the [...]nd that no man may perish except it be he that is put to death, and for whom it is ex­pedient to die.

CHAP. VI.

THere is this difference betwixt the Maiestrate and the Physitian, The difference be [...]wixt a Magi­strate and a Physitian. that the one suffer those to die whose life they could not saue; the other contrariwise condemneth the malefactor disgracefully, and forcibly driueth him out of the world, not because hee t [...]keth pleasure to put any man to death. (for farre off is a wisem [...]n from such barbarous cruelti [...]) but to the ende that those who ar [...] condemn [...]d [...]o death, should serue for an example to all men, and that the Commonwe [...]lth might make vse of their death, who during their life, would bee pro [...]itable to no man. The nature of man therefore is not punishment, and therefore is not wrath according to the nature of a man, because it is desirous of reu [...]nge. I will propose in this place an Argument of Platoes, For who forbiddeth vs to make vse of other mens reasons? In as much as they mak [...] for vs. A good man (saith he) doth not hurt, it is the punishment that hurteth, punishment ther [...]fore doth not become a good man. And consequently, neither choller, because punishment is agreeable to the same: If a good man take no pleasure in punish­ing, neither shall he take pleasure in that affect, to which punishment is a plea­sure. Therefore wrath is not naturall.

CHAP. VII.

IS not wrath therefore to be admitted, He proueth no [...] that anger is not pro [...]itable. although it be vnnaturall, because that oft-times it hath beene pro [...]itable. It raiseth and in­citeth m [...]ns minds, neither doth fortitude performe any wor­thy action in warre, except by this meanes mens hearts bee infla­med, and this ins [...]igation hath whetted and animated bond-men to attempt dangers. Some therefore thinke it requisite to temper wrath, and not to extinguish it, and that being taken away which is exuberant, to reduce it into a laudable forme; and to retaine that without which the action would languish, and the force and vigour of the spirit be resolued. First, it is more ea­sie to exclude such things as are pernicious, then to gouerne the same, and not to admit them rather then to moderate them when they are admitted. For when they haue put them selues into possession, they are more powerfull then their guide, and suffer not themselues either to bee deminished or cut off. A­gaine, reason it selfe to whom the ruines are deliuered, is so long powerfull, as long as shee is seperated from passions; But if shee intermixeth her selfe, and bee defiled with them, shee cannot restraine those whom shee might haue re­mooued. For the minde being once mooued and shaken, is addicted to that whereby it is driuen. The beginning of some things are in our power, but if they bee increased, they carie vs away perforce, and suffer vs not to returne backe: euen as the bodies that fall head-long downeward, haue no power to stay themselues. A fit similitude to confirme hi [...] second proo [...]e. And can those that are cast downe, retaine or stay themselue [...] in their fall, but an irreuocable precipitation hath cut off all counsaile, and all meanes of remedie, neither is it possible to keepe themselues from attaining thither, whether had they their choice they would not arriue. So the minde if it hath plunged it selfe in wrath, loue, and such like affections, is not suffered [Page 516] to restraine the full, it must needes bee, that the waight and nature of vices, in­clined vnto their full; carie it away and precipitate it to the bottome.

CHAP. VIII.

The remedie of the precedent di [...]i [...]ultie. A reason that ought to be care­fully obserued and marked. IT is best therefore forthwith to despise the first assault, and resist the beginnings. And to endeauour that wee fall not into wrath, for if shee beginneth to transport vs, it is a hard matter to recouer the right way. Because reason hath no place, as soone as passion hath gotten the vpper hand, and Will hath giuen him any interrest, then will shee afterwards doe, not what thou permittest, but what shee pleaseth. First of all say I, the enemie is to be driuen from our borders, for when hee is entred and hath gotten the gates, hee taketh no condition with his Captiues. For at that time the minde is not retired, neither exteriourly examineth shee affecti­ons, to the intent shee suffereth them not to haue further progresse then they should, but is changed her selfe into passion, and therefore can shee not reuoke that profitable and wholesome force, which is alreadie betraied and weakned. For as I said, these haue not their distinct and seuerall seates, I meane passion (which is a change in the Soule from good to euill) and reason (which is a change from euill to goodnesse.) How therefore shall reason which hath giuen place vnto anger, and is seazed and oppressed with vices, rise againe? Or how shall shee deliuer her selfe from confusion, wherein the mixture of the worst hath preuailed? But some (saith he) containe themselues in anger, Is it in such sort that they accomplish nothing which choler commandeth, or doe they obey the same somewayes? If they doe nothing, it appeareth that wrath is not necessarie in humaine actions whom you preferred, as if shee had somewhat more greater efficacie then reason. In conclusion, I aske this question, whether shee be stronger or weaker then reason? If stronger, how may reason giue her a Law and restraine her, considering that they are but feeble things which o­bey her. If weake, reason of her selfe is sufficient without her to effect things, neither desireth shee the helpe of so powerlesse a passion. But some that are an­grie are their owne men, and containe themselues. How? Then when anger is alreadie pacified, and remitteth of her owne accord. Not when shee is in height of her feruour, for then is shee stronger. What then? Doe not some men in the height of their displeasure, suffer those to depart safe and secure, whom they hate and abstaine from hurting them? But how? After that a second pa­ssion hath repulsed the former, or feare or pleasure hath commaunded this or that, wrath staieth it selfe, not for the reuerence she oweth vnto reason, but by reason of a feeble and euil accord which the passions haue amongst themselues.

CHAP. IX.

A continuation of the obiection and answer. TO conclude it hath nothing profitable in it selfe, neither doth it whe [...] the courage in warlike exploits. For Vertue which is con­tented with her selfe, must neuer bee assisted by vice. As often­times as shee is to attempt any thing, shee is not angrie but raiseth her selfe so farre forth as she thinketh it necessarie, [...]he is both in­tended and remitted no otherwise then those arrowes which are shot out of [Page 517] Engines, are in the power of him that shooteth, how farre they shall be shot: Anger saith Aristotle is necessarie, neith [...]r c [...]n any thing be atchieued without her, except she encourage the minde, and enkindle the spirit. But wee are to vse her not as a Captaine but as a Souldier: Learne here the vse of anger. which is false. For if shee giue eare to reason, and follow the way shee is directed, then is it not anger whose pro­pertie is contumacie: but if she resist and is not quieted when she is commanded, but passeth further with pride and furie, shee is as improfitable a Minister of the minde [...] as a Souldier that retireth not to his colours when the retreat is sounded. If therefore she suffer her selfe to be kept in measure, she must bee cal­led by another name, she ceaseth to be wrath, which I vnderstand to be vnbride­led and vntamed. If she suffer it not she is pernicious, neither is she to bee recko­ned amongst the number of helpes: So that either she is not Anger or else she is vnprofitable: For if any man exacteth punishment, not being greedie of the punishment it selfe but because hee must, hee is not to bee numbred amongst those that are Angrie. That man shall be reputed a profitable Souldier, who knoweth how to obey Counsaile, as for affections, they are as euill Ministers as they are Captaines. Reason therefore will neuer take to her assistants, impro­vident and violent passions ouer whom she hath no authoritie, and whom shee neuer may restrain except she oppresse their equals, and likes vnto them as feare to Anger, Anger to cowardise, desire to feare.

CHAP. X.

FArre be it from vertue to be reduced to this extremitie, An answer to A­ristotles opini­on, who in his Ethikes saith that choler is ne­cessari [...]. that reason should be constrained to haue his recourse to vices. Here cannot the minde remaine in any certaine quiet; hee must needes bee in perpetuall agitation and trouble, who is secure in his euils, who cannot be strong except he be wrathful, nor modestuous except he desire, nor quiet except he feare, he must liue in a Tyranny that becommeth a slaue to any passion. Are you not ashamed to thrust Vertues vnder the prote­ction of vices? Moreouer, reason looseth her power if she can doe nothing with­out passion, but beginneth to be equall, and like vnto her. For what importeth it, whether passion be an inconsiderate a thing without reason, or that reason be feeble: and of no force without passion? All comes to one, the one cannot be without the other. But who will endure that passion, should bee equalled with reason? Choler (saith he) is a profitable passion, if it bee small and little. I if she be profitable by nature: but if shee bee incapable both of gouernment and reason, she shall attaine this only thing, by her moderation: that the lesser she is, the lesse hurtfull shee shall be. Therefore a light passion is nothing else but a small euill.

CHAP. XI.

BVT against our enemies (saith hee) Wrath is necessarie. The continuati [...] of the confutati­on of Aristotles opinion. Neuer lesse. Wherein our passions should not bee intemperate but obe­dient and moderate. For what other thing was it, that crushed and confounded the Barbarians so strong in their bodies, so pa­tient in their labours, but Wrath which is most pernicious to her [Page 518] selfe? Art likewise defenceth the sword-players, Wrath layes them open to danger. Furthermore what need wee wrath, wh [...]re reason may doe the same. Thinkest thou that Hunter is angri [...] with wild beasts, either when hee chaseth them as they [...]lie, See Marius life in Plutarch. or assaileth them when they draw neere him? Reason doth all these thinges without Wrath. What hath so confounded so many thousand Cimbrians and Teutons, that were spread vpon the Alpes, that the notice of so great an ouerthrow was not related, to their friends by a messenger but by Fortune, but that Wrath in them had the place of Vertue? Which as some times shee hath defeated and ouerthrowne, those that met her, so oftentimes is shee the cause of her owne confusion. May a man finde out a Nation more couragious, more forward and readie to incursions and charges, more desirous of warre, then the Almaines, who are borne and brought vp to Armes: who are onely diligent herein, and negligent in the rest? Is there a people more hardned vnto labour, and that indureth trauaile better? For the most part they care not, to make prouision of garments for their bodies to keepe them warme: neither striue they to retire themselues from the perpetual furie of the frost, which is in that Countrie; yet are they defeated and put to flight vpon the [...]irst charge, and before the Legions were seene by Spaniards, French, Asians, and Syrians, who are but cold Souldiers in the Warre: being subject by no o­ther meanes to this disaster, but by reason of their wrath. So then, to these bo­dies, to these mindes that are ignorant of delights, S [...] Liuie of the [...] Wa [...]s, and Pluta [...]ch i [...] th [...] [...] o [...] Fa­biu [...] Maximus and Haniball. excesse, and riches, giue rea­son and discipline to guide them. But without farther debating in this kinde, I must call to remembrance in this place the Auncient custome of the olde Ro­mans. By what other meanes did Fabius reserue the decayed forces of the de­clining Empire, but that he knew how to delay, how to lengthen out matters, and dally with the time, all which angrie men cannot doe. The Common-Weale had beene vtterly ouerthrowne, that then stood in great extremitie, if Fabius had dared so much as wrath perswaded him vnto; but hauing for coun­saile the consideration of the estate of Rome, and the forces hee had, vn­der his gouernment, which had they beene defeated either in the whole or in part, all the rest was vtterly ruinated, hee laid wrath aside, and the desire of vengeance, a [...]d hauing his minde fixed vpon the good of the Common-Weale and vpon the present occasion: he first of all surmounted Choler, and after that Hanibal. What did Scipio? Hauing forsaken Hanibal, and the Carthaginian A [...]mie, and all these with whom he should be angrie, did hee not translate the Warre into Africa in so slow a manner that they who enuied his Vertue, repu­ted him for an idle and dissolute man. What did the other Scipio? did he not be­le [...]ger Numantium for a long time, and patiently disiested both this his pri­uate griefe, and the discontent of the whole State, by reason that Numantium kept out longer then Carthage. VVhich while hee trencheth about and shut­teth vp his Enemie, he drew them to this extremitie; that they murthered o [...]e an other.

CHAP. XII.

WRath then is neither profitable in skirmishes or in Warre, for it is too prone to temeritie, and whilst shee endeuoureth to harme o­thers she hazardeth h [...]r selfe. That Vertue is most assured, that hath long time examined and gouerned her selfe, and hath beene [Page 519] guided by good and wise counsaile. The conclus [...]on of the refutation which is pre­cedent, and [...]n an [...]wer to an other obiection. What then (saith he) shall not a good man be angrie, if hee see his Father stroken, his Mother rauished? Hee shall not bee angrie, but reuenge and defend them. What fearest thou that his pie [...]ie to­wards his parents is not an occasion more pregnant to incite him therunto then wrath is? Wee say after the same sort. What therefore? shall not a good man when he seeth his Father, or his sonne, cut in peeces, weepe or fall in a sound? as we see it falleth out in women, as often as any slight suspition of danger doth awake them. A good man executeth his offices without confusion or feare, and in such sort will performe those thinges that are worthie a good man, that hee will doe nothing that is vnworthie a man. Shall my Father be murthered? I will defend him. A pretie re [...]uta­tion of Theo­phrastus. Is he slaine? I will burie him, not because I am sorrie there­fore, but for that I am bound thereunto. VVhen thou saist thus, Theophrastus thou seekest to draw more stronger precepts into hatred, & forsaking the Iudge hast recourse vnto the people; because in such accidents euerie one is accusto­med to be angrie: thou thinkest that men wil judge that that ought to be done which they doe. For the most part, euerie one judgeth that affection to be just which they allow of. Are good men angrie at their injuries? but they doe the same, if warme water bee not fitly mixed, if their glasse bee broken, if their shooe be sprinkled with dirt. It is not pietie, but their infirmitie that moueth that wrath. We resemble those to children who wil weepe no lesse for the losse of their Ants, then for the death of their parents. It is the part of no pious but an infirme and weake minde to he angrie for a mans friends. But this is a wor­thie matter, and well beseeming a man to shew himselfe a protector of his pa­rents, his children, his friends, and his Countrie: not by violence, or passion; but voluntarily with iudgement, and discretion, with prouidence, and mode­ration. For there is no affection so desirous of reuenge, as wrath is, by reason whereof she is wholly vnproper to that effect, being hindered by her violence and furie; euen as [...]uerie passion is opposite and contrarie to it selfe, in all that whereunto she is inclined, and whereto she runneth hastily. And therefore, nei­ther in peace, or warre, was it euer good. For she maketh peace like vnto warre; and in Armes forgetteth her selfe, that warre is common, and commeth into an other mans power, whilst she is not in her owne. Furthermore, vices therefore are not to be intertained and vsed because at sometime they haue done some good: for feuours also doe cure some kindes of sicknesses [...] neither [...]herefore is it better not to haue wanted them wholy. It is an abhominable kind of reme­die to recouer health by the asistance of a [...]icknesse. In like manner, wrath al­though sometimes it hath beyond expectation profited as venomne precipi­tation and shipwrack haue done, yet it is not therefore to be reputed a thing in­tirely profitable, for oftimes poysons haue preserued the life of diuers person [...].

CHAP. XIIII.

MOreouer those thinges which wee ought to esteeme good, are the better, and more to be desired, the greater they be. If justice bee good, no man will say, that it is like to bee better, if any thing should be taken from it; if Fortitude be good [...] no man wil desire that it should be diminished in any part, & wrath the greater it is [Page 520] the better that is, The increase of wrath is vnpro­fitable, and there [...]ore wrath it selfe. for who refuseth the increase of any good thing? but the in­crease of wrath is vnprofitable, and consequently the bearing of the same is vn­profitable. It is no good thing that by increase becommeth euill. Wrath (saith he) is profitable: because it maketh men more hardie to fight. In this manner Drunkennesse is profitable, for it maketh men more insolent and audacious, and many that haue drunken ouer freely, are more readie at their weapons, In this manner say, that both [...]renzie, and Madnesse, are necessarie for valiant men: because oftentimes Furie maketh men more strong and able. VVhat? hath not feare sometimes made a Coward valiant, and the feare of death like­wise enkindled, the weakest hearted men to the battle? But Wrath, Drunken­nesse, Feare, and such like, are but filthie and fraile prouocations, neither confirme V [...]rtue which hath no need of vice, but doe sometimes a little quic­ken a slow and idle mind. No man is strengthened by his anger, except he haue beene strong before his anger. To them anger assisteth not, but supplieth the place of Vertue. In briefe, if this passion were recommendable, it would fol­low euerie one that were most perfect; but they that are the most tetchie, are infants, old-men, and sick-men, and euery Creature that is by na [...]ure weake and feeble, is ordinarily froward.

CHAP. XIIII.

A new obiection of Theophra­stus, touching the hearts good, men conceiue a­gainst euill men. IT cannot be (saith Theophrastus) but that a good man should bee displeased with the wicked. In this sence the better men should be the most cholericke. But contrariwise they should be more peace­able, exempt from passions, and without hatered of any man. What reason might moue them, to hate sinnes, considering that it is errour which driueth them into these faultes: But it is not the part of a Wise man to haue those that erre, otherwise he should hate himselfe. L [...]t him bethinke himselfe, how many faults he committeth against good manners, how many thinges he hath done which require pardon? Then shall he bee angrie with himselfe. For a just Iudge pronounceth not one sentence in his owne be­halfe, another in anothers. A man (saith hee) is not to be found, that can ab­solue himselfe, truth it is, that euerie man (saith he) is innocent but it is in regard of witnesses not of his conscience. How farre more humane were it for a man to shew himselfe gentle, and pacified to those that offend, and rather to re­con [...]le them then to persecute them. It were better to lead them, into the di­rect way who for want of knowledge haue straied out of it; as to thrust them out of the way. An answer gro [...] ­ded vpon diuerse reas [...]s. A man ought to correct him that offendeth by admonitions [...] forcible reprehensions, friendly but effectuall speech: to the end to make him better for himselfe and for others. In briefe, hee ought to chastise him without passion of Choler. For what Physitian is he, that will bee angrie and displea­sed with his Patient, whom he would recouer?

CHAP. XV.

BVt they cannot bee corrected, neither is there any thing in them that is capable of good hope; That a man may chastise, nay may ex [...]ute [...] ­ [...]enders withou [...] being transpor­ted by Choler. Let those bee exterminated out of the companie of men, who are like to infect those who con­uerse with them, and since it is the onely meanes, let them cease to be euill, but let this bee done without hatred. For what cause haue I to hate him whom I then pro [...]it most, when I take him selfe from him selfe. Doth a man then hate his limmes when hee cutteth them off, this is not Wrath but a miserable cure. We chace away mad Dogges, we kill a res [...]ie and vntractable Oxe. Wee arde our scabbe Sheepe, for feare least they infect the flocke; we strangle monstruous birthes; wee drowne our owne children like­wise if they be borne deformed and monsters. It is not an act of wrath but of reason, to seperate those things that are vnprofitable from those that are helth­full and profitable. There is nothing [...] which he that chastiseth an other should more refraine then from wrath, because that chastisement profiteth when it is done with iudgement. Thenc [...] it is that Socrates said vnto his slaue, I had bea­ten thee, had I not beene angrie. Hee deferred the admonition of his seruant till a more conuenient time, and at that time he admonished himselfe. Whose affe­ction shall be temperate, when as Socrates da [...]e not trust him selfe to his wrath? There needeth therefore no angrie corrector to chastise those that are wicked and do amisse. For whereas wrath is an offence of the minde, he that is faultie himselfe, must not punish offenders.

CHAP. XVI.

WHat then shall I not be angrie with a thiefe? An answer to an other obiection. Shall I not be displea­sed with a Witch. No; For neither am I angrie with my selfe when I let my selfe bloud. For I apply all sorts of punishment in stead of remedie. Thou that as yet hast made but an entrance into errour, neither offendest grieuously but frequently, shalt first of all bee secretly, then publikely reprooued. If thou engage thy sel [...]e fur­ther in sinne, so as words may not correct thee, thou shalt bee fined for thy fol­ly; but if thy fault requireth some more forcible and feeling punishment, thou shalt bee banished and sent to vnknowne places. Of the orde [...] that ought to bee [...]bse [...]ed in punishing male­fac [...]ors. But if thy malice increaseth, and waxeth obdurate, that thou haue neede to vse more sharper remedies then the precedent; thou shalt be thrust into shackles and lockt vp in prison. If thou be come incurable, and thou growest to heape sinne vpon sinne, if thou not one­ly layest hold on the occasions to doe euill (which neuer faile those that seeke them) but that which is worst, if to doe euill, thou hast no other occasion, but the wicked custome thou hast taken, thou hast drunke iniquitie, and [...]rt in such sort tainted and so deepely tinctured with wickedn [...]ss [...] inwardly, that it cannot finde issue out, except thou burst and die presently. Thou hast long time sought for death, poore man that thou art, w [...] will gratifie thee [...] wee will heale thee of this furie of thy spirit wherewith thou art torm [...]nted, and hauing made thee passe by the punishment of other men and thine owne, I will let thee see and feele the onely good which remaineth for thee that is to say, death. Why should I bee displeased with him whom I assist and greatly helpe at that time. [Page 522] To take a mans life from him, An amplification of that example aboue written and an answer to the pr [...]cedent obiection. is sometimes to shew him fauour and to doe him a good turne. If I were a well experienced Physitian, and should enter into an Hospitall or some rich mans house, I would not ordaine one and the same me­dicine for diuers sick men. I see diuers vices in so different minds, & am appoin­ted to haue the gouernment of a Citie, I must search out a medicine for euery one of their sicknesses. Shame must cure this man, trauell that man; the whip one man, necessitie the other, and the sword the last. Therefore, although in being a Maiestrate, I ought to change my Garment, and cause the people to be assembled vpon the sound of a Trumpet, yet will I ascend the Tribunall, not mooued or displeased, but with the countenance of an vpright Iudge, armed with the authoritie of the Lawes, and will pronounce the sentence with a voice rather pleasing and graue, then furious: and peaceably yet seuerely will com­maund the hangman to execute his office. And when I shall commaund any malefactors head to be strooken off; and when I cause the parricide to be sowen into a sacke, and afterwards to bee cast into the water; and when I iudge the offending Souldier to passe the pikes; and when I command the Traitour and publicke enemie to be cast downe from the Tarpeian rocke, I will bee so farre from wrath, and so temperate in my minde, as when I kill Serpents or other venimous beas [...]es. But wrath is necessarie for him that will punish. What thinkest thou that the Law is angrie with those shee knoweth not? Whom shee seeth not? Whom shee hopeth not to be? We ought therefore to inuest his af­fection, which is not displeased but onely defineth. For if it be conuenient for a good man to be angrie for euill deedes, it shall bee as lawfull for him to enuie the prosperitie of euill men. For what is more vnworthie then that some men flourish, yea and such who abuse the indulgence of fortune, for whom no for­tune may be found out euill enough. But as well shall hee see their commodi­ties without enuie, as their hainous offences without wrath. A good Iudge condemneth that which is euill, and yet hateth it not: What then? Shall not a wise man when he hath such a lik [...] thing in his hands bee touched in minde, and more troubled then ordinarie? I confeffe it, hee shall feele some light moti­on. For as Zeno saith, when the wound in a wise mans Soule is healed, yet re­maineth there some scarre. So then he shall feele certaine touches of suspition and shadowes of passion, yet without any passion. Aristotle saith, that some affections, if a man vse them well, serue insteede of armes; which should bee true, If the wiseman ought to be mo­ued and [...]ow. if they might be vsed and laide aside as warlicke instruments, at the plea­sure of him that putteth them on. These Armes which Aristotle giueth na­ture, fight of themselues, and expect not that a man should make vse of them, That which the Stoick [...] doctrine maintaineth & the examination of Aristotles [...] ­pinion a [...] tou­ching passions. they gouerne and know not what it is to obey: vertue hath no need of in­struments. We are sufficiently furnished by reason, wherewith nature hath fit­ted vs. Shee it is that hath giuen vs a weapon, firme, perpetuall, obsequious, and certaine, and such as cannot be reinforced against the Master. Reason of it selfe is sufficient enough, not onely to foresee, but to execute any action. For what is more fond then that reason should seeke assistance from wrath: a stable thing from an vncertaine: a faithful from a perfidious, a whole from the sicke? Moreouer as touching the actions themselues, wherein the helpe of anger see­meth to be most requisite, reason it selfe is more stronger. For hauing marked out that which she ought to doe, she remaineth alwaies setled in her resolution and being vnable to finde out any thing better then her selfe to change her, shee departeth neuer from her place. Contrariwise pittie hath oftentimes driuen wrath out of dores, for this passion hath no solid strength, but onely a tumor, [Page 523] and vseth violent beginnings, no otherwise then the windes which arise from the earth and being entertained by the flouds and marshes are vehement [...] but not permanent. It beginneth with a great violence, and a [...]terwardes fainteth being wearied before her time, and when shee hath inuen [...]d nought else but crueltie, and new kinds of punishment, when execution is to be done, she is pa­cified and becommeth gentle. Affection qua [...]leth quickly, reason is equal. Moreouer also where wrath perseuereth sometimes, if there are many that haue deserued death, after the bloud of two or three, she beginneth to bee cal­med. The first assaults of her are sharpe, euen as the venomnesse of Serpents are hurtfull: that creepe from their d [...]nnes [...] her teeth are harmelesse, when as often byting hath spent them. They therefore suffer not equally, who haue offended equally, and oft times hee that hath offended the least, suffereth the most because he is the object of the latest anger and is wholy vnequall [...] some­times it extendeth it selfe farther then it should, sometimes it resisteth more then it ought. For shee flattereth her selfe and iudgeth as shee list, and will not heare, and leaueth no place for excuse, and retaineth that which shee hath ap­prehended; and suffereth not her iudgement to be taken from her, although it be euill. Reason giueth place to either part, and time likewise, Afterwards shee demaundeth a terme for her selfe, to the end she may haue time to discusse the truth; wrath is hastie: The designes of Reason & wrath. Reason will haue that iudged which is rightfull, wrath will haue that seeme rightfull which shee iudgeth. Reason respecteth nothing but that which is in question, wrath is mooued with vaine things, and such as are nothing to the purpose. An assured countenance, a firme voice, a free speech, an exquisite garment, a delay without delay, a [...]auour of the people, ex­aspereth wrath. Oftimes in despight of the aduocate [...]he condemneth him for whom he pleadeth. And although the truth be laid before her eyes, shee lo­ueth and maintaineth errour, shee will not bee reprooued and in euill enterpri­ses shee esteemeth it more honest to bee obstinate, then to repent herselfe. Caius Piso was in our memorie a man exempt from many vices, A notable exam­ple, confirming that which [...]e saith, that An­ger ought not to be indued with Reason, because sh [...] extingu [...]sh­eth it. yet extremely cholericke, and such a one as tooke pleasure in his austeritie. He being displea­sed, when he had commaunded a Souldier to be brought before him, who had returned from his pillage without his companion as if he had murthered him, whom he could not bring in person, when he was requested time to finde him out, denied it him, and condemned him to die. This Souldier, thus sentenced being brought without the trenches, alreadie tendered his neck vnto the Hang­man, when suddenly his fellow Souldier appeared, whom men suppo [...]ed to be slaine: wherevpon the Centurion who had the charge to see the execution done, commanded the Hangman to put vp his sword, and after brought him to Piso, who was condemned to the end hee might make proofe of his innocen­cie, since Fortune had afforded him the meanes. The other Souldiers flocked about these two, who embraced one another to the content of all their compa­nions. But Piso incensed with choler, ascended the Tribunall seat and comman­ded both the Souldiers to bee ledde to death: both that Souldier that had not slaine his fellow, and him that was not slaine. What indignitie is this? Because the innocencie of him that was condemned was manifest, both perished. Piso added the third. For hee commanded that Centurion who had brought backe him that was condemned; to bee ledde to execution. Here three were appointed to die in one place for one mans innocencie. Oh how cunning is wrath to faine causes of furie; I command thee, saith hee, to bee led to death, because thou art condemned; thee, because thou wert the occasion of thy fel­low [Page 524] Souldiers death; thee, because being commanded to see him executed, thou didst not [...]bay thy Commander. He deuised how to finde three crimes because hee found none. Wrath, say I, hath this euill in it, it will not be gouerned. Shee is angrie with truth it selfe [...] [...]f she seeme in any sort opposite against her will. With crie, tumult, and iactation of the whole body, she persecuteth these whom she hath resolued to iniurie with reproches and curses. This doth not reason, but if it must needes bee so, silently and quietly, shee ruineth whole houses from their foundations, and destroieth whole families that are enemies to their Countrie. With their wifes and children, shee raceth downe their houses, and leueleth them with the earth, and obscureth their names that are enemies to libertie, This doth shee not with foaming at the mouth, Note this you that are Magi­gis [...]rates. nor shaking of the head, nei­ther doing any thing that is vndecent for a Iudge, whose lookes, at that time especially, ought to be most pleasing, and staied when he pronounceth matters of consequence. What needest thou, saith Ierosme, when thou art intended to strike any man, to bite thy lip first? What if he had seene, the Proconsull leaping from the Tribunall, and taking away the Sergeants rods, and renting his gar­ments, because the garments of such, as were condemned, were not rent off soone enough? What needeth it to ouer-torne the table, to breake and fling a­way the pots, to beate ones head against the pillers, to teare his haire, and to thumpe his thigh and breast? How great is that anger thinkest thou, which be­cause it is not so sodainly vented against another, as a man would, reflecteth vp­on her selfe? He is therefore held by his Neighbours, and intreated to pacifie himselfe, none of which things doth he, who is void of anger, but inioyneth e­uery one his deserued punishment. Oft-times dismisseth he him whose guilti­nesse and forfeit he hath apprehended, if by confessing the act he promise great hope of amends, if he vnderstand that the offence grew not from the malice of his heart, but as they say, was committed and not complotted with sinister in­tent. He will giue such a pardon as neither shall be hurtfull to those that re­ceiue the same, nor to those that giue it. Sometimes will he represse the grea­test offences committed by infirmitie, and not by crueltie, more gently then o­ther lesse, if in them be some hidden, couered, and inueterate craft. He will pu­nish the same fault in different men, after a different manner: if the one haue committed it through negligence, the other studied to doe hurt. Hee will ob­serue this alwaies in euery iudgement, and execution to ordaine one sort of pu­nishment, to correct the euill, an other to cut them off. And in both these shall he consider, not those things that are past, but those things that are to come. For, as Plato saith, No wise man punisheth for euill doing, but lea [...]t wee should fall to euill doing. For those things that are past cannot be recalled, those things that are to come may be preuented, and those whom he would make examples of. For some cursed crime, hee executeth them publikely, not only to the end they may die, but that others might be deterred from doing euill, by beholding the execution. An aduertise­ment for Magi­strates to beware of anger which cannot make a man more mag­nanimous. Each one ought to weigh and consider these reasons. Thou se [...]st how much a Magistrat [...] should be exempt from all passion, when he vn­dertaketh a thing of so great consequence, as the life and death of men, that are vnder his hands. The sword is indiscreetly committed to a furious mans hands. Neither ought we to thinke this that wrath addeth any thing to the greatnesse of the minde. For that is no greatnesse but a swelling, neither to bodies that are intended by aboundance of bad humours, is the sicknesse and increase, but a pestilent plentie. As they whom anger, which is a passion vile and base, puf­feth vp and raiseth aboue the thoughts of other men, make themselues beleeue [Page 525] that their thoughts are sublime and high, whereas there is nothing firme in all that which they doe, but as they haue builded in the aire, so sinketh it and fal­leth of it selfe. Wrath hath no assistant or sustainer, shee proceedeth not from any thing that is permament and durable, but is windy and vaine, and differeth so farre from greatnesse of minde as audaciousnesse from fortitude, insolence from confidence, sadnesse from austeritie, and crueltie from seueritie. There is a great difference betwixt a constant and a proud minde. Wrath enterpriseth nothing that is great or worthy. Contrariwise, in my iudgement, it is a token of a dull and vnhappie man, and guiltie of his owne weaknesse, to be sorowfull oftentimes. Euen as those bodies that are exulcerated and sicke, complaine i [...] they be touched neuer so little, so is it a womanish and childish fault: yet is it in­cident to men, for men likewise haue childish and womanish wits. What then? are not some wordes vttered by angrie men, who haue not the true knowledge of magnanimitie, which seem notwithstanding to proceed from a great & gene­rous mind? As that most dire and abhominable speech, Let them hate me, so they feare me. Know that this was written in Syllaes time, I know not whether wish were worse for him, either to be hated, or to be feared: Let them hate me. He forethinketh that which will happen, that his subiects will curse, betray, and oppresse him. What addeth he hereunto, The gods confound him, so wor­thie a remedie hath he found out for hatred. Let them hate: What? whilst they obay? No: whilst they approue? no. What then? so they feare, so would not I haue him be beloued. Thinkest thou that this is spoken with a great spirit? Thou art deceiued; for this is not greatnesse but crueltie. Thou art not to giue credit to wrathfull mens wordes, whose boasts are great and threating, but in­wardly there hearts are crauen and coward. Thou must not repute that to be true which is spoken by Liuie that eloquent man. Of him, A man that had a minde rather great then good. These cannot be separated, [...]ither it shall be great and good, or it shall not be great; because I meane th [...] greatnesse of a man that is vnshaken, and inwardly solide, and euen and equall from one end vnto ano­ther, which cannot bee in euill mindes. For they may bee terrible, tumultuous and dangerous to death, but they shall not haue greatnesse whose foundation is strength and goodnesse: yet in speech, in action, and all outward appearance they will make shew of great courage. They will let slip some wordes, which thou wilt suppose to be worthie and wittie, as Caius Caesar did, who being an­grie with the heauens, because it thundred whilst his plaiers acted, whom hee imitated more diligently then he beheld them, and because his banquet was in­terrupted by lightning, that was scarce rightly aimed, hee challenged Iupiter to fight with him without delay, pronouncing this Verse in Homer:

Either kill me, or I thee.

What madnesse was it? he thought that either Iupiter could not hurt him or that hee could hurt Iupiter. I cannot imagine but that this speech of his was of some great moment to incense their hearts of those that had conspired against him for they supposed it to bee an insufferable matter to suffer him who could, not endure Iupiter. Then there is nothing great or noble in wrath, no not when it seemeth to be most v [...]hement and despiseth both men & gods: or if any man supposeth that wrath produceth a great mind, let him say as much of dissolute­nesse. Shee will be carued in Iuorie, clothed with purple, couered with gold, transferre one Countrie to an other, shut vp Seas, precipitate Riuers, hang For­rests [Page 526] in the aire. Let Auarice also be esteemed generous: shee lieth vpon heaps of gold and siluer, his pastures and lands are tilled vnder the name of whole Prouinces. And vnder euery one of his Farmers he enioyeth a greater quantitie of land, then the Prouinces that were allotted to those that were Consuls. Let lust likewise be reputed to be a worthy thing. It swimmeth ouer Seas, geldeth troups of yong children, maketh the wise without apprehension of death to be murthered with her husbands owne hands. The same may we say of Ambi­tion, that shee is magnanimous, and contenteth not her selfe with yearly ho­nours, but will, if it may be, fill all the moneths and daies of the yeare with one name, and plant her armes through all the world. It skils not how farre all these proceede and extend themselues, they are trifles, they are miserable and depressed. Only vertue is great and excellent, for there is nothing great except it bee pleasing and peace­able likewise.

The end of the first Booke of Anger.

A TREATISE OF ANGER, WRITTEN BY LVCIVS ANNAEVS SENECA TO HIS FRIEND NOVATVS. The second Booke.

The Argument of IVSTVS LIPSIVS.

IT hath two parts, the first containeth certaine questions of Anger, the other remedies against the same. The first question is, whether Anger proceede from passion onely. Hee denieth it, and prooueth that both the minde and iudgement are accessarie thereunto. Shee therefore giueth [...]are vnto reason, and may be restrained, which could not be if shee were from that onely, and not from nature. By the way he setteth downe a Stoicall difference, betwixt motions and affections, this he prosecuteth to the fourth Chapter. Then addeth he an other question, whether crueltie and fiercenesse proc [...]ede from Anger, hee denieth it, and saith that it is a different affection, yet that it often-times hath his beginning or nourishment from often displeasure. After this in the sixth Chapter, whether a good man be displeased with the offence or the offender? Hee d [...]nieth and dischargeth a wise man from all this affection vntill the eleaueth Chapter. From thence he enquireth whe­ther wrath be profitable, because it deliuereth a man from contempt, and terrifieth the euill? He doth not admit it, and confesseth that it is feared which is not good, or to be de­sired by a good man. For both wild beastes and sicknesses are feared. This vntill the thirteenth Chapter, and in it he confesseth that Anger may bee [...]ained, and yet not vsed by a wise man. Neither that shee resideth in a simple and generous minde, because the free and vnconquered nations haue the same, yea such as are sauage and incapable both of le [...]rning or reason. At length in the eighteenth Chapter, hee profitably passeth ouer to the remedies of Anger, he dilateth these two things. That we should not b [...]e an­grie, and that we should not sinne in our Anger, least we fall into the same. Such and such an education is requisite, at last he willeth vs to impugne the first causes of wrath, and alwayes to vse counsaile and time. Then that suspicions are to be driuen away, and ex­cesse auoided. Not to bee angrie with things that are insensible, with men of weake iudgement, with those things which are done by nature, or for our good. Hee aduiseth vs to see and acknowledge our faultes, whereby we may b [...]come more equall and iust to others. Not to beleeue rashly, and to examine those things that are beleeued by the minde of the doer. Especially that pride is to be laide aside, and good opinion of a mans [Page 528] selfe which maketh men wrathfull and reuengefull. To suffer rather or to dissemble and to abstaine from so filthy an affection, wh [...]se deformitie is expressed in the minde and countenance. These are profitable lessons, let them be read and remembered.

CHAP. I.

He entereth into a more particu­lar discourse and disputeth first, vpon the source of Anger. THE first Booke Nouatus hath comprehended matters more tractable, because it is an easie mat­ter to runne head-long in to vices, considering our inclination and disposition thereunto. But now we must vnfolde the smaller parcels of this dis­course. For the question is, whether Anger be­ginn [...]th vpon iudgement, or by impulsion, that is to say, whether shee bee mooued of her selfe, or wh [...]ther she resemble the most of these passions, which take root in vs before wee are aware. But wee must subject this dispute to these questions, to the end that shee may be likewise raised to more high considerations. For in our bodies, our bones, ne [...]ues, and ioynts, which are the foundation of the whole, and other instruments of life scarce, seemely to beholde are first formed and ordained, and afterwardes those, when the grace and our countenance, and face doth proceed. And in furie, after all this the choler which aboue all things rauisheth the eyes, is the last thing which spreadeth it selfe thorow-out our perfect bodies. It is not to be doubted but that a certaine appearance of injurie offered, moueth anger: but the question is whether wrath presently followeth after this appearance, without consent of the minde, or whether it be mooued by his assent. But our opinion is that shee dare doe nothing of her selfe, but by the approbation of the minde. For to conceiue an opinion of injurie, and to de­sire to be reuenged, and to vnite both these things together, that is to say, that they ought not to haue beene angrie, or that hee ought to take reuenge; this is no motion that may incite it selfe without our will. The aboue named motion is simple, that whereof wee speake is compound, and containeth diuers heads. He hath vnderstood somewhat, he is displeased, he condemneth the same, hee reuengeth himselfe, this cannot be done, except his minde which was touched therewith, yeeld some consent.

CHAP. II.

Chol [...]r is the o [...] ­sp [...]ing of our cons [...]nt. WHereto saist thou appertaineth this question? To vnderstand what wrath is. For if shee be bred in vs against our wils, she will neuer submit vnto reason. For all those motions which are done against our will, are invincible and inevitable, as shiuering when wee are sprinkled with colde water, a starting backe vpon tickling: when we haue heard some heauie message, our haire standeth vpright; when immodest words, shame coloureth our countenance; and a swimming of the head followeth those that looke downe from some high places. Because none of all these are in our power, there is no reason that counsaileth vs to ex­pose our selues there-against. Wrath is driuen away by good precepts. For it [Page 529] is a voluntarie vice of the minde, not of those which happen by a certaine con­dition of humane kinde, and therefore they befall the most wisest. Amongst which that first motion of the mind is to be placed, which moueth vs after the opinion of injurie. This motion attendeth vs euer amongst the idle acts of a play, and vpon the reading of Ancient Histories. We seeme oftentimes to bee angrie, for banishing Cicero, and with Anthonie for killing him. Who is not an­grie at Marius Armes, and Syllaes proscriptions? Who is not displeased with Theodotus and Achillas, and that boy Ptolomey, for doing a hainous mur­ther vnfitting for his yong year [...]s? A song some times and a sodaine straine of Musicke animateth vs, and that warlike sound of the Trumpet mooueth our mindes, and a dreadf [...]ll picture, and the dolefull sight of just mens punishment amazeth vs. There it is that we laugh with those that laugh, and in the com­panie of these that mourne, wee are heauie and are inkindled by beholding o­ther mens fight, which are not wrathes no more, then sadnesse is, which contra­cteth our browes vpon the sight of an enemie, that hath suffered shipwracke; no more then then feare astonisheth the Readers minde, when he ouer looketh of the Storie, how after the battaile of Cannas Hanibal approched thee wals Rome. But all these are the motions of such mindes, as are willing to bee mo­ued, neither are thy affections but beginnings and essaies of those affections. For so doth the Trumpet refresh the Souldiers eare, who hath a long time li­ued in rest, and walked in his long Roabe, during the time of peace, and War­like horses pricke vp their eares vpon the clattering of Armes. They say that Alexander the great whilst Xenophantes sung; laid hand on his weapons.

CHAP. III.

NOne of these thinges, A subtile distin­ction of passion. which casually impell the mind may be cal­led affections. These if I may so speake it, the minde rather suffe­reth then doeth; That therfore is affection, not to be moued with the resemblances of things that are offered; but to suffer him selfe to be led by them, and to runne after this casuall motion. For if any man suppose that palenesse, and trickling downe of teares, and filthie pol­lution, or a deep f [...]t sigh, or eyes sodainly incensed, or any such like thing, is a token of the affection, and a signe of the mind [...], he is deceiued, neither vnder­standeth he, that these are the agitations of the bodie. And therefore the stou­test man sometime waxeth pale, whilst he is armed, and the fiercest Souldier hath trembled and shaken his knees a little when the charge was first sounded, and the greatest Emperour, hath had a trembling heart before the two Armies had shocked and encountered together, and the eloquentest Oratour, whilst he composeth him selfe to deliuer his oration, hath felt a shiuering in the extremi­ties of his bodie. Wrath must not onely bee mooued, she must haue her out­lopes abroad: for it is a passion; but neuer is a passion, without the assent of the mind [...] for it cannot bee, that without the knowledge of the minde, a man should deliberate vpon reuenge and punishment. Some man hath supposed himselfe injuried, and would reuenge himself [...], but vpon the disswasion of some cause, he presently changeth his counsaile. I call not this Wrath, but a motion of the minde obedient vnto reason. That is Wrath, which treadeth downe reason, and draweth her after her. So then this first agitation of the minde, which is prouoked by the appearance of some injurie, is no more wrath then [Page 530] is the appearance of injurie, but that succeeding emotion, which not only assu­meth the resemblance of injurie, but hath approued the same. Wrath is a con­citation of the minde, tending voluntarily and with iudgement to reuenge. Is it to be doubted but that feare is attended by flight, Wrath by impetuositie? Take heed therefore, if thou perseuer in this opinion, that a man may imbrace or avoid any thing without the consent of the minde.

CHAP. IIII.

The explication o [...] this d [...]finition [...]i [...]st of the three mo [...]ions which are the b [...]g [...]n­ning, the in­c [...]a [...], and ad­vanc [...]m [...]nt of Ang [...]r. AND to the end thou maist know, how these passions beginne, increase, and extend them selues. Consider that there are three motions. The first is not voluntarie, but as it were a prepa­ration of the affection, and a conjunction. The second is an­nexed, to a will which is not rebellious as that I ought to re­uenge my selfe when I am wronged, or that such a one that hath com­mitted some hainous crime should bee punished. The third motion is so violent that it will not reuenge when it ought to doe it, but hath wholy disclaimed reason. This first motion of the minde we cannot auoide, although reason assist vs, no more then we can auoid those motions, which as I said hap­pen to the bodie. We cannot choose but yawne, if we see an other man yawne. Neither can wee choose but winke if a man sodainly steppeth behinde vs and blindfoldeth vs. These things cannot reason ouercome, happily custome and daily obseruation may lessen them. That other motion, which is bred by iudg­ment, is ouercome by iudgment.

CHAP. V.

THis question likewise is to bee examined whether those men that ordinarily are incensed, and delight in mans bloud bee an­grie with such men, whom they put to death, from whom they neuer haue receiued, nor suppose themselues to haue re­ceiued injurie, such as were Apolidorus and Phalari. This is not Wrath, but Crueltie; For shee hurteth not because shee hath recei­ued an injurie, but is readie to receiue injuries, prouided that shee may doe hurt. It is not to reuenge him selfe that hee whippeth and teareth men in peeces, but for pleasure sake. What then? The beginning of this euill is from Wrath, the which by frequent exercises hauing satified her appetite with mur­thers and bloud, and forgotten all Clemencie; and driuen Humanitie from his heart, finally addicteth himselfe to all Crueltie. They therefore laugh and are glad, and enioy much pleasure, and haue their lookes farre different from those that are angrie, they are cruell, yet quiet in their mindes. They say, that Hani­bal said when he saw a trench filled with mans bloud. Oh faire spectacle. How farre more worthie a thing had it seemed to him, had he seene a Riuer or Lake filled therewith? What wonder if thou take so speciall a delight in this spectacle when as thou wert borne to bloud, and from thine infancie hast beene trained vp in murthers. The prosperous fortune of thy Crueltie shall follow thee for twentie yeares space, and shall euery where yeeld thine eyes a gratefull specta­cle, thou shalt see this both about Trasimenum, and about Cannas, and lastly [Page 531] about thy Carthage. Volesus of late time Proconsull in Asia vnder the gouer­ment of Augustus, after that in one day hee had beheaded three hundreth walking amongst the carcasses, with a proud countenance as if he had done some magnificent action worthie the beholding cryed out in Greeke. Oh King­ly exploit. What had this Volesius done had he beene a King? This was not wrath but a greater and more incurable euill.

CHAP. VI.

VErtue (saith he) as it is fauourable to honest things, That the wise­man is not sub­iect to this mo­tion of heart whence procee­deth choler. so is she displea­sed with dishonest. What if it bee said that Vertue ought both to bee humble and to be great? But he that saith thus will haue her extolled and repressed. Because joy in performing any no­table action, is apparant and magnificent, anger and despight conceiued by reason of another mans sinne, is the signe of a sordid and base minde. Neither will vertue euer so farre forget her selfe as after shee hath sup­pressed vices, shee should imitate them. It is his dutie to chastice wrath, which is in no sort better but often times worse, then those offences, wherewith shee is displeased. It is proper and naturall for vertue to rejoyce and be glad, to bee angrie is not for her dignitie, no more then to mourne. But sadnesse is the com­panion of wrath, and anger after the repentance, and after the repulse conuer­teth it selfe alwaies into sadnesse. And if it be the act of a wise man to be displea­sed against sinnes, his displeasures shall increase if they be more great, and it will follow that the wise man shall not be simply angrie, but wrathfull. But if we neither beleeue that great or frequent anger hath place in a wise-mans minde. What is the cause why we wholly discharge him, not from this affection, there say I, can be no measure, if he must be angrie according to the waight of euery mans offence. For either he shall be vnjust, if he equally be displeased with vn­equall sinne, or most wrathfull if hee hath beene incensed so often as offences haue deserued displeasure. And what is more vnworthy then that a wise-mans affections should depend on another mans wickednesse. Euen Socrates himselfe will forbeare to bee able to bring back the same countenance home with him, which he carried out of dores.

CHAP. VII.

BVt if a wise-man ought to bee displeased against dissolute behaui­our, He concludeth by that which passed before, that a wise-man cannot be angrie with those disor­ders which he seeth. and incensed and agrieued at wickednesse, there is no man more miserable then he: he must needes spend the whole course of his life in anger and sadnesse. For what moment shall there be wherein he shall not see some matters that are to be disallowed: as often as he shall goe out of dores he must passe by wicked, couetous, prodi­gall and impudent men, and such as haue beene made happie thereby, his eies shall be turned towards no place, wherein they finde not occasions of dislike? He cannot liue if he be displeased so often as the cause requireth. These so ma­ny thousand men that trot to the Palace early in the morning, how bad causes, nay how farre worse Lawyers haue they? One of these complaineth against his Fathers will, where hee hath occasion to content himselfe therewith. [Page 532] Another pleadeth against his mother: Another accuseth his Neighbour of some crime, wherein he himselfe is more manifestly faultie, and he is chosen to be Iudge in those causes wherein he himselfe hath most offended, the baddest cause is fauoured by all men, and that Counsailer that pleadeth vprightly is disgraced, why prosecute I euery particular? when thou seest the Courts of pleas stuffed with people, and the barres taken vp with all sorts of people, and that great place wherein the most part of the people shew themselues, know this that in that place there are as many vices as there are men. Amongst these men that walke in long gownes there is no peace, each of these will sell one an­other for a little gaine.

CHAP. VIII.

A d [...]scription of the disorders of his time, repre­sented to the end to expresse that a wiseman should bee truly misera­ble, if he would torment him­selfe to see so many miseries. NO man taketh profit, but by another mans losse, they hate the happie man, they contemne the miserable; they are agrieued at their Superiours, and are grieuous to their inferiours; they are prouoked by diuers desires, and for some light profit or pleasure they would see all things in confusion. Their life is nothing dif­ferent from that of the sword players, who liue and fight with one another. There is an assembly of bruit beasts, except wee say that they are peaceable amongst themselues, and bite not one another: where contrariwise men haue no content, but when they teare and spoile one another. In this one thing dif­fer they from dumb creatures, that the one are tame to those that nourish them, but those are enraged against them most, by whom they haue beene relieued best. A wise-man shall neuer cease if hee once beginne to bee angrie: all the world is so full of vices and wickednesse. There is more euill committed, then may by reproofe and punishment bee healed. Impietie and iniustice are vpon their rests, & forcibly iust against vertue; day by day the desire of euill increa­seth, and modestie decreaseth. The carriage of this age. Dissolution hauing driuen from her all respect of equitie and right, hath vsurped vpon all things at her pleasure; neither are hainous crimes now a-daies committed in secret; they are perpetrated in the view and eye of all men. And such preheminence and power hath wickednesse gotten in euery place, so deeply is shee possessed of all mens hearts, that inno­cence, which in times past, was rare, at this day is wholly extinguished. Haue all or a few men broken the law. All the world is armed, as it were vpon the sound of a trompet, to confound and mixe right and iustice with wickednesse.

Ouid. Metamor.
Nor from his Host the guest may be securd,
Nor he whom law and marriage hath alotted
To be a Father can remaine assurd,
But by his Sonne his death will be complotted.
Friendship twixt brothers may be hardly found,
The husband seekes occasion to depriue
His wife of life, and shee would him confound:
Th'inraged Stepdames daily doe contriue
To mingle poisons, and the sonne againe
To get his Fathers wealth would see him slaine.

[...]mall a part of wickednesse is this? hee hath not described the camps [Page 533] of a factious common-weale, armed one against another, the fathers following one part, The miseries of ciuill warre [...]. and the children another, all the Countrie fired by their hands that should defend it, the troups of horsmen scouting out on euery side to discouer the places, whether the condemned men were retired, the fountaines poisoned, the plague spred abroad by artificiall meanes, the trenches digged by the chil­dren against their owne fathers, that were besieged, the prisons full of captiues, the tyrannies, the secret counsailes, whence hath followed the ruine of King­domes and other publique estates, the whoordomes, deflourings, rauishings, infamous and execrable vncleannesse, all which things reputed for glorious and notable exploits are called wicked, when a man may hinder and extin­guish them.

CHAP. IX.

ADde now vnto these the publique periuries of the people, A continuation of the former discourse, to proue that a wise man cannot possibly intangle himsel [...]e with so many miseries. the breach of alliances, the pillage carried away to him, that hath the greatest power, the deceipts, the thefts, the cauils, tricks of so e­uill trust in so great a number, that wee had neede of three times as large places of iustice as we haue, to decide them in: if thou wilt haue a wise-man displeased so much as the indignitie of their wickednesse requireth, insteed of being angrie h [...] will be constrained to be madde. Rather thinke thou this that he ought not to be angrie at errours. For what if a man should be angrie with those that stumble in the darke, or against the deafe, be­cause they doe not that which they are commanded, because they vnderstand it not? or against children, who in stead of thinking on their duties, busie them­selues in play and sporting with their equals, what if thou wouldest bee angrie with those that are sick, with such as are old and weari [...]d? Amidst the rest of the incommodities of mans life, this is one; the darkenesse of our mindes, and not only the necessitie of erring, but the loue of errours. If thou wilt not bee displeased with any man, pardon all men; and excuse the infirmitie of man­kinde. But if thou beest angrie, both with yong and old, because they offend; be displeased also with little infants, because hereafter they will bee vicious. Is there any man angry with children, who by reason of their tender yeares know not how to discerne things? It is a more great and iuster excuse to be a man then a child: we are borne to this condition to be creatures subiect as well to the in­firmities of the mind as of the body, not blockish nor stupide, but such as abuse our vnderstanding. The one of vs serue for example of vices vnto the other. Euery one follow those that goe before, although it bee in the way of errour. Why should they not be excused if all of them go astray in the publique way?

CHAP. X.

THe seueritie of a Generall is intended against priuate offenders, but then is pardon necessarie, where his whole Armie hath forsaken him. What taketh away a wise mans wrath? the multitude of offenders. He vnderstandeth how vniust and dangerous a thing it is to be displeased with a guiltie multitude: Heracli [...]us as often as he went forth a dores, and saw about him such a multitude of euill liuers, nay [Page 534] rather men dying wickedly, he wept; hauing compassion of all those that met him with a ioyfull and contented countenance, being himselfe milde in minde, and feeble in heart, and such a one as deserued to bee deplored himselfe. Con­trariwise it is said that Democritus neuer lookt abroad without laughing, so tri­fling reputed he all those things which were seriously done and [...]ought after. Where in this world is there any place for Anger? All things are eyther to be laughed at, or to be lamented. A wise-man will not be angrie with those that offend. Why? Because he knoweth that no man is borne wise, but is made wise: he knowes that in euery age there are few that become wise, because he vnderstandeth the condition of human life, but no wise-man will be angrie with nature; for what if he would wonder because that apples grow not on wilde brambles? what if hee wonder why thornes and bushes beare not exquisite fruite? no man is angry with nature when she excuseth the imperfection. A wise-man therefore is peaceable, and remitteth faults, not an enemie but an ad­monisher of those that doe amisse with this minde daily walketh he out. Ma­ny will meete me in the way that are addicted to wine, many lechers, many that are vngratefull, many couetous men, and many that are possessed with the furie of ambition. All these men will he entertaine as courteously as the Phy­sitian doth his sicke patients. Is he displeased either with his Sailers or his Ship whose Barke hauing her timbers loose hath a great leake, and sinketh in much water? He rather helpeth them, he calketh the vessell to keepe out the waues, he driueth out the rest and shuts vp the holes that appeare, and resisteth by his continuall labour and pumping, those that are yet vndiscouered, neyther there­fore intermitteth he because so much was gotten out, as was entered in. We had neede of succours of long continuance against so continuall and fruitfull e­uils, not that they may cease, but least they ouercome.

CHAP. XI.

He prosecuteth the explication of the definition of Anger, which he tearmeth an emotion of the heart, t [...]nding voluntarily and with iudgement vnto vengeance, shewing that t [...]is passion as being vnprofitable, ought not to be found amongst wise men, who condemne the e­motion and the vengea [...]e [...] and rather n [...]glect then [...]re it. WRath, saith he, is profitable because she escapeth contempt, and terrifieth euill men. First of all wrath, if it be as much worth as it threatneth, for this very cause, because it is terrible, it is there­fore hatefull. But it is more dangerous to be feared then to be despised: but if it be without feare, it is more exposed to con­tempt, and subiect to derision. For what thing is more vaine and ridiculous then for Anger to be in tempest and tumult for nothing? Moreouer, those things that are terrible are not therefore more great; and I would not haue that said by a wise-man which might be said by a sauage beast: that the weapon of a wilde beast is to be feared. What, is not the ague, the gowt, an vlcer euill? Is there therefore any goodnesse in these, or contrariwise are not all things more disdained, filthie and contemptible, in that they are feared? Anger is of her selfe deformed, and not to be feared, yet is it feared by diuers men as a deformed vi­zard by infants. But why doth not feare alwayes fall vpon the head of him that is the author thereof? Neyther is there any man feared that is himselfe secure. Remember thee in this place of Laberianus verses, which being spoken in the Theater, in the middest of the ciuill warres, no otherwise made all the people attentiue vnto it, then if a speech had beene vttered that testified the publique affection.

He needs must feare many whom many men fe [...].

[Page 535] So hath nature ordained, that he who thinketh himselfe great, because he is fea­red, is not himselfe exempt from feare. How much tremble Lions vpon the least noyse? An vnacquainted shadow, voyce, and oder troubleth those beasts which are the fiercest. All those which affright others are a [...]fraid themselues. There is no cause therefore why any wise-man should desire to be feared.

CHAP. XII.

NEyther therefore let any man thinke that wrath is great, That [...]here is no great thing in Anger although it moueth [...]are. because she causeth her selfe to be feared, because there are certain things which are the most contemptible and yet are feared, as venomes, and some impoisoned meates, and a bite or sting of beasts. Ney­ther is it to be wondred at, when as a line distinguished with fea­thers, containeth the greatest heards of wilde beasts, and driueth them into the Toyles, and by their effects they are called feare; for vaine things are affraid of nothing. The shaking of a Chariot, and the ratling of the wheeles driueth a Lion into his denne; the crie of a Hogge terrifieth an Elephant. So therefore is Anger feared as a shadow is by infants, as a redde feather is by wilde beasts. This passion hath nothing firme and powerfull in her selfe, but she is onely the Bug-Beare of vaine mindes. Wickednesse, saith he, must be banished out of the world if thou wilt exterminate wrath, and as the one of these things is im­possible so is the other. First of all a man may be warme, although that natu­rally it be Winter, and he may be temperate although the hottest moneths do raigne. But by the benefite of the place he is exempted from the intempera­ture of the yeare, or by the patience of his bodie he ouercommeth the sense of them both. But take this to the contrary, thou must needes take vertue first out of thy minde, before thou entertaine wrath, because vertues haue no corre­spondence with vices; and no more at the same time can an angry man be a good man, then he that is sicke be a whole man. All wrath, saith he, cannot be taken away out of the minde, neyther doth the nature of man permit him this. But there is nothing so difficult and dangerous, which a mans minde cannot o­uercome, and that continuall meditation bringeth not in vse, and no affections are so fierce and obstinate which are not tamed by discipline. Whatsoeuer the minde hath enioyned himselfe he hath obtained. Some haue gotten that go­uernement ouer themselues that they will neuer laugh, some haue giuen ouer wine, some lecherie, and some haue framed their bodies to forbeare all w [...]ter, another by accustoming himselfe to sleep little, hath gotten so much priuiledge that he is neuer wearie of waking, some haue learned to runne vpon small and slender ropes, and to beare great and mightie burthens, farre exceeding the strength of any man, and to diue into the greatest dep [...]hes, and without any breathing to remaine long time in the bottom of the Seas.

CHAP. XIII.

THere are a thousand other things wherein an obstinate resolution surmounteth all other impediments, How profitable a fi [...]me resolution is against vices. and sheweth that there is nothing difficult to him that hath resolued himselfe to be patient. All these of whom I haue spoken before, haue had no recompence of their trauaile, or if they haue receiued any, it was no great mat­ter. [Page 536] For what honour hath that Tumbler gotten, who hath learned to daunce vpon a rope? that is exercised to beare a waightie burthen vpon his necke, that hath learned to restraine his eyes from sleeping? that is taught to diue into the bottom of the Sea? He awakeneth the s [...]up [...]ditie of the m [...]t part of men [...]p [...]cially of [...]h [...]se that are giuen ouer to A [...]ger. These larbors get but little reward. Shall not we entertain patience, who are to expect so great a reward as the tranquilitie of a happie minde? How great a thing is it to flie from wrath, which is the greatest euill, and with her to auoyde the other passions, which accompanie her, as rage, inhu­manitie [...] crueltie, and furie? We are not to seeke our protection from any, ney­ther ought we to excuse and dissemble our libertie, by saying, that eyther this is profitable or that ineuitable; for what errour hath wanted a Patron? Thou art not to say that it cannot be cut off, we are sicke of curable diseases; and na­ture her selfe that created vs for the best, will assist vs if we will be amended. Neyther as some men haue said, A Stoicall Pa­radox, as possi­ble as for a dead man to slie. is the way to vertues dangerous and difficult, they are easily come by. I will instruct you in no vaine matter. The way vnto blessed life is easie, follow the same in a good houre, and vnder the fauour of the gods. There is more difficultie in doing those things which you doe. For what is more contenting then the tranquilitie of the minde? What more laborsome then wrath? What more remisse then clemencie? What more turbulent then crueltie? Chastitie is alwaies at leisure, dissolution full of businesse; to conclude, the custodie of all vertue is easie, contrariwise, vices cost very much in entertay­ning them. Must wrath be remoued? This in part confesse they likewise who say, that it is to be moderated and diminished. Let it be wholly giuen ouer: be­cause it will profite nothing: without her a man may more easily and readily roote out wickednesse, the euill shall be punished and brought to a better passe.

CHAP. XIIII.

That a wise-man h [...]t [...] no neede of wrath to pe [...]fo [...]me his due [...]e. A Wise-man effecteth al those things which he ought to do, without the assistance of any euill thing; neyther will he intermixe any thing which may trouble him in the gouernment thereof. An­ger therefore is neuer to be admitted, yet is it sometimes to be dis­sembled, if the slowe mindes of the auditorie are to be stirred vp. Euen as we pricke forth our sturdie horses by sticke and spurre, to performe their race. Sometimes they are to be put in feare, when reason cannot per­swade. It is no lesse profitable to be angrie then to mourne, then to feare. What then? Do not some causes fall out which prouoke Anger? But euen then most especially are we to get the start of her. Neyther is it a hard matter to ouer­com the mind, when as the wrastlers also being exercised in their basest part, yet suffer they strains and strokes that they may spend his forces with whom they contend; neyther strike they when wrath perswadeth them, but when occasi­on commandeth them. It is reported that Pyrrhus an excellent Master in wrast­ling and other exercises, was wont to command those that were his Schollers to refraine from Anger. For it is Anger that troubleth Art, and considereth which way she may hurt, not how she may preuent. Reason therefore oftentimes per­swadeth patience, wrath reuenge, and we that might escape the first euils, are thrust into greater. Some hath the contumely of one word not dis-jested with discretion, cast into exile, and they that would not burie and beare a trifling in­iurie in silence, haue beene ouerwhelmed with most grieuous calamities; in [Page 537] briefe, being not able to endure, that a iot of their great libertie should be dimi­nished, they haue drawne themselues vnder a serui [...]e yoke.

CHAP. XV.

TO make thee know (saith he) that wrath hath somewhat gene­rous in it, That Choler ha [...]h nothing ge­nerous in it. thou shalt find that the Germanes and Scithians (which are free Nations) are much inclined vnto wrath; which commeth to passe because their spirits (which by nature are strong and so­lide) are easily moued and prone vnto Anger, especially before they be tempered and mollified by discipline. There are certain passions which neuer take holde-fast but on the strongest spirits: euen as the most strongest and fruitfullest Coppise grow on the land which is least manured, and a Forrest flo­risheth in a fruitfull soyle. Therfore the mindes that by nature are most strong­est endure Anger, & being fierie & ho [...]e, suffer nothing that is little and feeble; but that vigor is imperfect, as in all things without Art, which grow only by the benefit [...] of nature, which except they be quickly tamed, that which was dispo­sed to become valour is conuerted into audaciousnes and rashnes. What, are not those spirits which are gentle and tractable lesse vicious? and are they not accompanied with m [...]rcie, loue, and honest shame? I will therefore shew thee a good disposition euen in those things that are euill; but therefore are they not vices, although they are signes of a better nature. Moreouer, all these Nations free in their fiercenesse, according to the custome of Lions and Wolues, as they cannot serue, so they cannot command: for they haue not the force of a hu­mane vnderstanding, but such as is beastly and intractable; but no man can go­uerne, except he that can be gouerned.

CHAP. XVI.

FOr the most part therefore the Empire remained amongst those Nations which liue vnder a milder clime: There i [...] no Na­tion of pliable inclination that are no [...] capable o [...] gou [...]rnment, and [...]it to be go­uerned by the most exc [...]ll [...]nt amongst them. they that are bred to­wards the Northward and in colde countries, haue their mindes most vntractable, as the Poet saith,

And like vnto their heauen.

Th [...]y (saith hee) are reputed to be the most generous beasts that are most wrathfull. He is deceiued that induceth them for an example to men, who for reason vse violence: man in stead of violence hath reason. Neyther is that passion profitable in them: all fiercenesse helpeth Lions, feare Harts, vi­olence the Hawke, flight the Doue: neyther is that true, that the most excel­lentest creatures are the most subiect to Anger. Shall I thinke those wilde beasts better which liue by rapine, because they are most fell? I had rather commend the patience of the Oxe and those Horses that are gouerned by the bridle. But what is th [...] cause thou shouldest reuoke man to such vnhappie ex­amples, when thou hast the world and God, who amongst all oth [...]r liuing cr [...] ­atures, he onely imitateth and onely vnderstandeth? They are account [...]d the most simplest men of all other that are most angrie. For they are compared to [Page 538] fraudulent and cunning fellowes, and seeme to be simple, because they are dis­couered, whom I would not call simple but improuident. For we [...]signe this nam [...] to fooles, to letchers and prodigall spenders, and such as are not cunning enough in their follies.

CHAP. XVII.

Whether it be a thing fitting for him that is pub­liquely to de­claime to be mo­ued, and [...]ow. AN Orator (saith he) that is moued and angrie is sometimes the better, why not if he counterfeit his Anger? For Players in pro­nouncing their speeches, although they be not ang [...], yet moue the people; but in acting the wrath [...]ull man cunningly. And before the Iudges likewis [...], and before the people, and wheresoe­uer we ar [...] to confirme other mens mindes in our opinion, sometimes wee our selues will faine to be displeased, sometimes counterfeit feare, sometim [...]s com­passion to confirme the same in other men. And oft-times that which true af­fection could not haue effected, imitation of affection hath perform [...]d. It is a faint mind [...], saith he, that is without Anger. It is true, if he haue nothing more powerfull then Anger in him; neyther must he be a thiefe, neyther such a one as is robbed, neyther mercifull, nor cruell, the heart of the one is too tender, the other too obdurate. Let the wise-man bee temperate, and in executing that which he hath to doe resolutely, let him entertaine courage and not Anger.

CHAP. XVIII.

The second part of th [...] B [...]oke s [...]t­t [...]th downe the r [...]medi [...] aga [...]nst Anger. BEcause we haue examined those questions which concerne An­ger, let vs now descend vnto the remedies thereof. They are two in my iudgement: the one, that we fall not into Anger, the other, not to sinne when we are angrie. As in the cure of our bo­dies, there are some precepts to maintain health, othersome how to restore it when it is decayed, so to surmount displeasure there is one meanes to repulse it, another to represse it. Some shall be taught which are pertinent, and necessarie for the whole life, and they shall be deuided into education, and the yeares that follow. Education requireth great diligence, and is greatly pro­fitable and necessarie: for it is an easie matter to fashion & order tender minds, and those vices are hardly rooted out in vs, which haue grown with vs. A fiery nature is a proper subiect of wrath; for whereas there are foure elements, fire, water, ayre, and earth, so haue they their equall qualities, colde, hote, drie and moyst. So then the mixture of the elements is the cause of the varietie of places, creatures, bodies, and manners; thence commeth it that mens minds are more inclined to this or that, The complexions of our bodi [...]s [...]ro [...]ee [...] from the [...]l [...]ties that are predomi­nant in them. according as the vigor of the element aboundeth more or lesse in them; thence it is that we say and call some Regions moist, som drie, some hot [...], and some colde. The same differences are there betwixt men and beasts.

CHAP. XIX.

IT importeth very much to vnderstand how much humiditie or heate euery one hath in him, The source whence [...]ra [...]h springe [...]h and his seate. and according to the element that is most predominant in a man, such are his manners. The mixture of heat will make wrathfull men; for fire is actiue and p [...]rmanent. The mixture of cold [...] maketh men colde; for colde is of a slow and heau [...] na­ture. Some therefore of our sect are of the opinion, that wrath is enkindled in the breast, by reason of the blood that boyleth about the heart. The cause why this place is especially assigned vnto Anger, is no other, then that of all the whole bodie the breast is the hotest. They that haue more moisture in them, their Anger increaseth by little and little, Because the Sun of the lesser world inhabiteth in it. because their heat is not prepared, but is gotten by motion. The displeasures therefore of children and women are more sharpe then they are continuing, and more feeble in the beginning. In drier ages wrath is vehement & strong, but without increase, not adding much vnto it selfe, because colde followeth the declining heate. Old [...] men are testie and alwayes complaining as sicke men doe, and such as begin to recouer their health, or that by lassitude or bloud letting haue lost a part of their heat. In the same estate are they that are extremely transported with thirst and hunger, and who haue no bloud in their bodies, neither thriue by that they eat, but consume daily. Wine enkindleth wrath, because it increaseth heate according to euery mans nature.

CHAP. XX.

MVch moued are some when they are drunk, some when they are feasting: Diuers appeare­ances o [...] wrath accord [...]g to the habi [...]ude o [...] p [...]r­sons, and [...]hat we ought to know our own [...] nati [...]e, and [...]o [...]e the custom. neither is there any other cause, why they are most wrathfull that haue yellow haire and redde faces, who haue such a color by nature, as other men are wont to haue, when they are displeased; for their bloud is swift and much troubled. But euen as nature disposeth some men vnto choler, so happen there many causes which may do the like that nature doth. Some hath sickenesse and the iniurie of the bodie drawne into this, othersome labor and continuall watching [...] nights spent in great thought, and desires, and loues; and whatsoeuer else that were hurtfull to the bodie or minde, or prepareth the sicke-mans heart to complaints. But all these are but beginnings and causes, and custom can do very much, which if it be depraued nourishes the vice. It is a hard thing to change nat [...]re, neuer is it pos­sible to disseuer the elements, whereof things are composed, after they are on [...]e mixed. But it will be profitable to know this, to the end we may forbid them wine that are of hote natures, 11 d [...] legibus. How child [...]n are [...]o b [...] ordred. which Plato supposeth to be hurtfull to children, and therfore forbiddeth vs to adde fire to fire. Neither are they to be crammed with meats, for their bodies are easily distended, & their minds like their bodies suddenly are puffed vp. Let labour exercis [...] them without lassitude, that their heate may be diminished & not consumed, & that the ouer great feuer in them skimmed and setled [...] Metaphora à vino sump [...]a. Pa [...]time likewise will profit them, because a moderate plea­sure quickneth the mind, and temperateth it also. Those that are of a moist, drie, and colde complexion, there is no danger in their displeasures, yet are greater vices to be feared in them, as feare, difficultie, desperation and suspicions.

CHAP. XXI.

The continuaion of h [...]s discourse, and of the re­medies ag [...]inst childrens anger. The first is a good instruction. SVch mindes therefore are to bee tempered and nourished, and to be animated with delights. And because wee are to vse some re­medies against Anger, some other against sadnesse, and that these are not only to be cured by different, but contrary meanes. We will alwayes haue a care of that, which is increasing. It shall profit very much say I, to haue our children well instructed in the beginning. But the manner of gouerning is difficult, because wee must indeuour that wee nourish not Anger in them, or dull and dampe their spirits. The matter had need of diligent obseruation. The second is to keepe measure and neither to ani [...]ate or dis­courage them too much, and how we ought to pro­ceed. For both that which is to bee extolled and that which is to be depressed is nourished with the like, and such things as resemble doe oftentimes deceiue him, that is most diligent. The mind increaseth by liber­tie, and is embased by seruitude. Praise the same, and it rowseth it selfe, and fil­leth vs with great expectation, yet both these two expedients ingender inso­lence and wrath. So therefore is he to be gouerned betweene both, that some­times we vse a bridle, sometimes a spur, that his minde may suffer nothing that is base and seruile. Let him neuer haue need to intreat any thing humbly, nei­ther let it profit him though hee hath so submissiuely intreated. If wee grant him any thing, let it bee rather by alleadging vnto him, that he hath just cause to demaund the same, and that we haue regard vnto his former behauiour, and hope that hee will doe better hereafter, as hee promiseth. In his exercises a­mongst his companions, let vs neither suffer him to be ouercome, nor to bee an­grie. Let vs indeuour that he may bee alwayes familiar with those with whom hee is wont to contend, and that in his exercises hee accustome himselfe not to haue a will to hurt, The third that the [...] be not en­ [...]ained ei [...]her too idl [...]ly or too daintily. but to ouercome. As oft as he hath gotten the vpper hand, or hath done any thing that is praise worthie, let vs not suffer him to be proud or to boast thereof, for boasting followeth joy, and pride and to much esteeme of himselfe, boasting. We wil giue him some recreation, yet wil we neither suf­fer him to be slothfull or idle, and aboue all thinges will detaine him from the touch of pleasures. For nothing more inkindleth wrath, then an ouer delicate and daintie education: and therefore the onely childe, to whom wee giue liber­tie, and these Pupils that are left to their owne pleasures, are ordinarily the most corrupted. The childe that hath had his will in euery thing, whose mother hath ordinarily dried the teares from his eyes, who hath had a master assigned him according to his own [...] fancie, will neuer suffer an injurie patiently. Seest thou how euerie greater Fortune is attended with a greater anger? This appea­reth in Rich men, in Noble men, in Magistrates esp [...]cially when as whatsoeuer vainenesse and leuitie was in their braines, findeth a fit Winde to carrie it away. Felicitie nourisheth wrath, as soone as the troopes of flatterers are incamped a­bout proud men. The fourth to beware of flat­te [...]e [...]. They wil say vnto thee. What shall hee answer thee, thou respectest not thy selfe according to the greatnesse of thy Estate, thou abasest thy selfe ouermuch And other such like sufficient to intangle the wisest heartes, and such as haue b [...]ne prudently brought vp from there infancie. Let childhood therefore be farre remou [...]d from flatterie. Let him h [...]are nothing but truth, let him learne f [...]ar [...], modestie, obedience to his elders, and dutie, and reuerence. Let him ex­tort nothing from thee by frowardnesse. That which was denied him when he wept, let it bee giuen him when he is quiet. Let him see his Parents riches, but n [...]t vse them: Let him be reproued for his euill deeds.

CHAP. XXII.

IT shall be to the purpose to giue children [...]uch Masters and at­tendants, What masters we ought to prouide for our children. who are peaceable and gentle. That which is tender layeth holde on that which is nearest vnto it, and groweth with it, and becommeth like vnto it. Diuers children that haue growne in yeares, haue represented the manners of their Nurses and masters. A young childe brought vp with Plato, returned home to his Pa­rents house, and hearing his Father exclaime and chide grieuously said, I haue neuer seene the like with PLATO. How children should be fed and clothed. I doubt not but that he imitated his father soo­ner then Plato. Let his diet be alwayes slender. Let his attire be modest and an­swerable to that of his equals. He shall neuer bee angrie that any is compared with him, whom from the beginning thou hast made equall with many. But these things appertaine vnto our children. For in regard of our selues the for­tune of our birth, and of our bringing vp cannot giue any place vnto correcti­on, nor for the precepts to instruction. Wee must only prouide for the time to come, and resist the first occasions. But the cause of anger is the opinion of in­iurie, whereunto wee must not easily giue credit nor entertaine the first reports and proofes how euident and manifest soeuer they be. A remedie of Anger is not to giue credit to tale-bearers. For some things that are fallen haue an appearance of truth, wee must alwayes giue time: for time dis­couereth truth. Let not our eares bee open vnto Tale-bearers. Let this vice of humane nature be suspected by vs, and made knowne vnto vs, that is to say, that what we vnwillingly heare, we vnwillingly beleeue, and before wee iudge, we are angrie.

CHAP. XXIII.

WHat? The second to flie suspitions. are we not only moued and inforced by accusations, but also trauailed with suspitions? and interpreting wee not the worst of other mens lookes and smiles; are wee not displeased with those that are innocent? We must therefore plead with our selues, the cause of him that is absent, and hold our anger in suspence. For a man may exact the punishment which is delaied, but hee cannot remedie it after it is executed. See Laertius lib. 9. of the lawes of the Philosophers and Plutarch his liues. The Tyrant killer is well knowne, who being apprehen­ded before his attempt was performed and tortured by Hippias to the end hee should discouer his confederates: hee reckoned vp the names of all the Ty­rants friends that stood about him, who in his knowledge were most carefull of his prosperitie and life, and when he had commanded euerie one of them to bee slaine, whom he had nominated, he asked him: Is there any more, yet remaining? Thy selfe (said he) only for I haue left none else aliue that is deare vnto thee: Wrath was the meanes that made the Tyrant to lend his assistance to the Tyrant killer, and to murther his owne Guard, with his owne sword [...] How more couragiously delt Alexander? who when hee had read his mothers Epi­stle; wherein he was admonished that he should beware to bee impoysoned by his Physitian Philip, drunke of his presented potion without any affright. Hee had more confidence in his friend, and worthie was hee to enioy so vpright a Physitian, and worthie to make such a one. This praise I in Alexander the more, because no man was more subiect vnto anger, and the rarer gouernment [Page 542] is in Kings, the more is it to be commended. The like did Caius Caesar who in the Ciuill warres demeaned himselfe so mercifully. For hauing intercepted a packet of diuers letters that were written to Pompey, from those that seemed to haue held the contrarie part, or remained neuters, hee burned them all, and al [...]hough he were accustomed to keepe a measure in his wrath, yet liked he bet­ter to admit no meanes. He held it to be a most gratefull meanes of pardon to be ignorant of that wherein euerie man had offended. Credulitie doth much mischiefe and oft times we ought not to giue [...]are therevnto because in some­things it is better to bee deceiued then to distrust.

CHAP. XXIIII.

Euils occasioned by opin [...]on and suspition. SVspition and coniecture which are two betrayers of the minde, are to be banished. He hath not saluted me kindly enough; Hee hath not kissed mee heartily; He hath abruptly cut of our discourse; he inuited me not to supper; That mans countenance was more strange then it was ac­customed. Suspition wants no argument: we haue need of simplici­tie, and the friendly interpretation of things. Let vs beleeue nothing, but that which is subiect to the eye, and manifest, and as long as our suspition appeareth to be vaine, let vs chide our credulitie. For this Chastisement will accustome vs to beleeue nothing easily.

CHAP. XXV.

The third reme­die against da­ger is not to be agr [...]ed for [...]le and ab [...]ct [...]hings. FRom thence, doth this follow, that wee be not exasperated by the smallest and most [...]ordid thinges. The Page is scarce seruiceable that either ministreth water to warme for our wine, or a bed to sit vpon vnmade, or a table negligently furnished. To bee angrie hereat, is but madnsse, hee is sicke, and of an euill constitution whom a little breath of winde causeth to quiuer. Those eyes are verie weake, which are dimmed by beholding a white vesture: he is ouer delicate that swea­teth to see another man labour. It is reported that there was a certaine man of Sibaris who was called Mindyrides who beholding one that digged the Earth, and lifted his mattocke too high, began too commplaine himselfe as if he him­selfe had trauelled much, and forbad the other to worke any more in his pre­sence. The same man likewise complained oftentimes, because he lay vpon a bed of rose leaues. Whereas pleasures haue inthraled both the minde and the bodie there is nothing that seemeth tolerable, not because they are hard, but in that effeminate men suffer them. For what is the cause, why any mans cough, or sneesing, or a Flie not curiously enough driuen away, should incense vs, or a cup ouerturned, or a key lost by the carelessenesse of a negligent seruant should trouble vs? Will such a man peaceably endure a publike slander, and reproches vrged against him, in declamations and open Court, that cannot a­bide to beare the scraping of a stoole that is drawne by him? will he suffer hun­ger and extreme thirst in a winters voyage, who is angrie with his Page, because he hath not mixed his snow with his wine cunningly.

CHAP. XXVI.

THere is nothing therefore, The fourth to re­ [...]rain impa [...]ience in regard of these things that are without life and in regard of men and beasts. that more nourisheth Anger then in­temperate and impatient dissolutenesse, the minde is to bee han­led hardly that hee may not feele the stroke: except it bee grie­uous. We are angrie with these from whom we neither could receiue injurie, or those from whom we might receiue it. Some of the first are without sence, as wee haue beene wont often times to cast by a booke that is written in small letters, and haue torne a faultie, or as we cut our garments by reason they are not pleasing vnto vs in their fashion. How fond a thing is it to be angrie with these which haue not deserued our displeasure, nei­ther feele the same? But we are angrie with those that made them. First, we are angrie almost ordinarily before we bethinke our selues of this distinction, a­gaine happily the very workmen themselues will giue vs sufficient satisfaction. One of them could not doe better then he did, neither was he negligent in his occupation, vpon purpose to displease thee. Another did it not to offend thee. In conclusion, what is more braine-sick then to discharge and vent the choler, we haue gathered vpon things that haue no sense? And as it is a folly to be an­grie with these that are inanimated creatures, so is it as foolish to be displeased with dumb beasts, because there is no injurie except it proceede from discourse and deliberation. They can therefore hurt vs as yron or a stone, but they can­not doe vs injurie. But some there are that thinke themselues to be contemned, whereas some horses that are easily backt by another horse-man, are sturdie to another mans riding, as if by judgement, not by custome, and the arte of hand­ling them, some beasts are vntractable to some men.

CHAP. XXVII.

BVt as it is a foolish thing to be angrie with these; To refraine im­patience and not to be angrie with infants. so ought not a man to bee displeased with little children, or against those that haue as little spirit as infants. For all these faults in the eye of an equall Iudge are reputed for innocence of imprudent men. Some things there are which cannot hurt, and haue no power, but that which is beneficiall and holsome, as the immortall gods which neither will, neither can hurt. For their nature is milde and peaceable, and so farre remote from doing other men injurie as themselues. Madde are they therefore, and ignorant of truth, Much lesse a­gainst the gods. that impute vnto them the raging of the Seas, in measurable showers, a rigorous winter, when as in the meane space there are none of these which either hurt or profit vs, that are properly intended against vs. For we are not the cause in this world of the reuolution of Winter and Sommer, these sea­sons are gouerned and haue their order disposed by the gods; we estimate our selues too highly, if we suppose our selues worthie that so great things should be moued for vs. There are none of these things therefore is done to our pre­judice, nay rather there is nothing done which is not for our good: wee haue said that there are some things which cannot hurt, some things which will not [...] In this ranck shalbe good Princes, Nor against our superiours in this World. Parents and Masters, Iudges and Magistrat [...]s, whose chasticement ought to be considered, as the razor of a Surgeon, the diet of a Phisitian, and other remedies, which neither doe vs good nor euill. Are we [Page 544] chastised, let vs thinke not only on that which wee suffer, but also on that which we haue done, and let vs enter into the examination of our life. If wee will confesse a truth vnto our selues, wee haue a greater matter to charge our selues with. If we will be equall Iudges of all things, let vs first of all perswade our selues that there is none of vs without a fault. For hence groweth the grea­test indignation; I haue sinned no waies, I haue done nothing; nay, thou confessest nothing. If any man admonish or chastise vs we are angrie, when at that very time we sinne. When as to our rebellious deedes we adde arrogancie and con­tumacie. Who is he that dare maintayne that he is innocent, in respect of all lawes? That this may bee thus, how defectiue is our innocence, in regard of good lawes? how more infinitely is the rule of our duties extended then that of right? how much doe pietie, humanitie, liberalitie, miserie, and faith, exact all which are not inclosed in the ordinances and constitutions of men.

CHAP. XXVIII.

The fi [...]th is t [...] th [...]ke [...] how m [...]ny sorts men a [...]e guilty befo [...]e God and M [...]n. NEither as yet can we attayne to that strict innocence of the lawes. We haue done some things, and thought other things. We haue desired some things and haue followed others. We are innocent in some affaires, because we could not effect them. Thinking hereupon, let vs be more fauourable to those that offend. More attentiue to those that reproue vs, and let vs not be displeased with our selues (for with whom will we not be angrie, if we be displeased against our selues?) aboue all things let vs beware to be angrie with the gods. For it is not by their ordinance, but by the law whereunto all mortall men are subject, that we suffer all these incommodities which befall vs. But sicknesses and sorrowes doe as­sault vs. They that dwell in a rotten house must seeke to flie out of it by some waies. When it shall be told thee that any one hath spoken euill of thee, be­thinke thy selfe whether thou hast not begon it first, examine thy selfe by how many thou hast spoken. Let vs thinke, say I, that other men doe vs no injurie, but that they requite vs with the like, and that some doe it of malice, some by constraint, and others through ignorance, and that they likewise who willing­ly and wittingly doe wrong; take not an occasion by the injurie we haue done, to doe vs another. Either is he fallen through the sweetnesse of his vrbanitie, or hath done somewhat, not with an intent to hurt vs, but because he could not haue attained his desire except hee had repulsed vs. Oft-times flatterie offen­deth vs whilst shee flattereth; whosoeuer shall remember himselfe how often times men haue had an euill opinion of him, and interpreted the many good seruices and offices hee hath done for injuries, how many men hee hath loued whom he hated before time, he will not be displeased vpon the first, especially if vpon euery injurie that is done vnto him, he say vnto himselfe. These faults likewise haue I my selfe committed. But where wilt thou finde a Iudge that is so vpright? He that coueteth euery mans wife, and thinketh it a sufficient cause for him to loue her, because shee is a stranger will not admit another man to court his. He that will haue another man keepe promise vpon a prefixed day, is no master of his word, the perfidious man persecuteth him that is a lier, and the informer cannot abide that another man should bring him in question. He will not haue his seruants credit touched who is negligent of his owne re­putation. Other mens sinnes are before our eies, our owne behinde our backs. [Page 545] Thence commeth it that the Father more riotous then his Sonne, yet repro­ueth him bitterly for his lauish expence, he seuerely taxeth another mans ex­cesse, who is himselfe prodigall and hath no hold of his monie: the Tyrant is displeased against the murtherer, and he that is sacrilegious punisheth theft. The greater part of men are angrie with sinners, The sixth is to take time and be [...]hinke our selues b [...]fore wee be angrie. but not with the sinne. We shall be more moderate if we examine our selues, if we take couns [...]ile of our selues, and examine whether we our selues haue not committed the like, whe­ther we haue erred in the same manner? Is it fit for vs to condemne the same? Delay is a soueraigne remedie against displeasure, neither require thou her in the beginning to pardon thee, but to judge thee. If shee delay and admitteth any intermission, the furie thereof is abated. Striue not to attempt her all at once, her first assaults are most sharpe, but thou shalt get the day of her, if thou dismember her by little and little.

CHAP. XXIX.

TOuching those things which offend vs, Reasons why wee should d [...]lay. some are told vs, and some we heare, or see: we must not easily beleeue those things that are told vs, many men lie to the end they may deceiue, many because they are deceiued. This man curries fauour by accusing others, and faineth an injurie to the intent he may seeme sorrowfull for that which is done. There are some so wicked that they seeke nothing more but to sow contention amongst friends. Another is suspicious and desirous in secu­ritie, and from a-farre to behold a single combat, performed betwixt two, whom he hath set together by the [...]ares. A notable com­parison to this purpose. If thou wert made a Iudge in a trife­ling matter, thou wouldest not allow the cause, except it were approued by witnesses, and the witnesses thou wouldst not respect except they were sworne. Thou wouldest call both parties before thee, and giue them time to answere, and yeeld them audience vpon seuerall daies. For truth will the more manifest­ly appeare the more often it is debated vpon. Wilt thou condemne thy friend instantly before thou hast heard him, and before thou hast asked him the que­s [...]ion? art thou angrie with him before he either know his accuser or his crime? For at this instant, yea now presently, hast thou heard what was spoken on both sides. That very man, who first informed thee, will not justifie his wordes, if he be driuen to proue them. Thou hast no cause, saith he, to driue me to iustifie it, if I b [...] brought in question I will denie the same, or otherwise hereafter I will neuer tell thee any thing. At the same time he inciteth thee and drawes himselfe out of the trouble and danger. He that will not speake vnto thee, except it be in se­cret scarcely tels thee any thing that is worthy thy beliefe. What is more vn­reasonable then to beleeue a secret report, and afterwards to be openly angrie?

CHAP. XXX.

THere are somethings whereof wee our selues are witnesses. The seuenth is to consid [...]r the persons, to en­dure that which is pos [...]ible. In these we will consider the nature and will of those that do them. Is he a child? we beare with his age, he knoweth not whether he offendeth. Is he a father? either before times he hath done vs so much good, that vpon just ground we ought to forgiue him the [Page 546] wrong he might doe vs, or peraduenture we are offended without cause, and he himselfe hath an occasion to complaine against vs. Is she a woman? She is de­ceiued. Is he commanded? who except he will be iniurious will be angrie with necessitie. Is he hurt? It is no iniurie to suffer that which thou thy selfe profe­redst first. Aduertisements wo [...]thy to be con­sid [...]r [...]d o [...] all men, especially of [...]hose who are subiect [...]o dis­pleasure. Is he a Iudge? Rather trust thou his opinion then thine owne. Is he a King? if he punish thee being guiltie acknowledge his iustice, if being inno­cent, giue place to thy fortune. Is it a dumb beast, or a stone, or such like? thou art like vnto it if thou be angry at it. Is it sickenesse or calamitie? It will passe more lightly if we suffer it patiently. Is it God? Thou loosest as much time in murmuring at him, as when thou prayest him to be angrie against thy neigh­bour. Is he a good man that doth thee iniurie? Beleeue it not. Is it an euill? Wonder not. Another man shall punish that wrong which he offereth thee, and he himselfe in doing euill is punished by himselfe. There are two things as I haue said, that prouoke Anger: Of th [...] s [...]cond sort o [...] r [...]m [...]di [...]s against Anger. the first is, if we seeme to haue receiued iniury. Of this there is sufficiently spoken. It remaineth that we speake of the second, that is to say, whether we haue beene wrongfully iniured. Some men iudge those things to be iniurious, which they ought not to haue suffered, some be­cause they hoped it not. We repute those things iniurious which are sudden. Those things therefore most greatly moue vs, which happen vnto vs, contrary to our hope and expectation; neyther is there any other cause why the least matters offend vs amongst our Domestiques, and why in our friends wee call negligence an iniurie.

CHAP. XXXI.

HOw therefore, saith he, doe our enemies iniuries moue vs? Because we expected them not, The first remedy i [...] to r [...]noun [...]e [...]he loue of our s [...]lues, to know [...]nd cond [...]mne ou [...] [...]gno [...]nce [...]. or rather because we imagined not that they should be so dangerous. The too much loue we beare our selues is the cause hereof, and that it is which maketh vs iudge that our enemies should not touch vs any wayes. Euery man hath the heart of a King in him, so that he will haue authoritie ouer all men, and yet himselfe will be vnder no mans subiection. Against our ig­norance. So therefore it is eyther our ig­norance in things, or our insolence that maketh vs Angrie. As touching igno­rance, are we to wonder if wicked men doe wicked acts? Is it a new thing if our enemie do vs the worst iniurie he may? If our friend forget himselfe somtimes? if our sonne or seruant commit some fault? That great Captaine Fabius said that this ordinarie excuse, I had not thought it, was a base one: but I thinke it a most abiect thing in a man. Bethinke thy selfe of all things and expect, euen in good manners there will be some [...]hing harsh; mans nature beareth with tray­t [...]rous friends, she endureth vngratefull men, she suffereth the couetous, she winketh at the impious. When thou wilt censure the manners of one man, thinke vpon the publique; where thou wilt most of all reioyce, there most of all wilt thou feare; where all things seeme vnto thee peaceable, there shall not want such things as shall hurt thee, yet lie they couered; thinke that will bee somewhat hereafter that may offend thee. A Pilot hath neuer so cunningly discharged himselfe of all straights and perrilous passages, but that he hath al­wayes an eye to his Anchor and tackle, to haue all things in a readinesse when neede requireth. Against inso­l [...]n [...]e. Before all things remember thy selfe of this, that the power to doe euill is villeinous, execrable, and wholly vnfitting for a man by whose be­nefites [Page 547] the wildest beasts are tamed. Behold the Elephants kept vnder yoake, children and women riding boldly vpon the backs of Bulls, Serpents that slide vpon the tables, and slip into the bosomes of men without doing them any harme, and Beares and Lions within doores, that suffer their mouthes to be handled, and fawne vpon their Masters. Thou wouldest be ashamed to change thy manners with bruite beasts. It is a hainous crime to hurt a mans countrey, and therefore a Cittizen likewise, for he is a part of his countrey. The parts are holy if the whole be venerable, therefore man to man, for h [...] is a Cittizen in this great Cittie, which we call the world. What if the handes would harme the feete, and the eyes would not helpe the hands? Euen as all the members are ac­corded together, A worthy indu­ction of sweetnes and good car­rage toward our neighbours. because that it importeth the whole body, that the partes whereof it is composed should be entire; so ought we to support one another, because we are made to liue in societie. But this societie cannot continue, if the parts of the same assist not and maintaine not one another. We would not fli [...] from Vipers, and Serpents that haunt the water, and other creatures that are hurtfull, eyther in their biting or stinging, if we could tame them, or keep them eyther from hurting our selues or other men. We will not therefore strike a man because he hath offended, but to the end he offend no more, neyther is pu­nishment euer reserued to the time past, but that which is to come, because it is not ordained to entertaine Anger, but to preuent it: for if euery one should be punished that hath a depraued and offensiue minde, no man should be exempt from punishment.

CHAP. XXXII.

BVt wrath hath some pleasure in it, and it is a contenting thing to be reuenged. The refutation of their false opi­nion, that thinke it a great good to worke other mens euill. It is farre otherwise. For euen as it is an honest thing in regard of benefites, to returne a good turne for a good turne; so is it not in requiting iniuries with iniuries: in the one it is a dishonest thing to suffer our selues to be ouercome, and in the other to ouercome. This word reuenge is full of inhumanitie, and yet is enter­tained for a wise thing, and differeth from contumely in nothing but in order. He that requiteth one iniury with another, offendeth more excusably. A cer­tain inconsiderate fellow strook Cato in the Bath, for who is he that had known him that would doe him iniury? and yeelding him afterwards some satisfacti­on, Cato said vnto him, I remember not that thou didst strike me. He thought it a wiser part not to acknowledge the wrong then to reuenge it. Thinkest thou that he was not iniuried in receiuing this outrage? In no sort. He did himselfe much good, for he began to know what Cato was. It is the part of a great mind to despise iniuries: it is a contumelious kinde of reuenge, that he thought him vnworthy to reuenge himselfe on. What magnani­mitie is. Many whilst they reuenge themselues for euery slight offence, haue made their iniurie the greater. That man is great and noble, that after the manner of a mightie wilde beast, listneth securely the bark­ing of lesser Dogges: but, saith he, we shall be contemned lesse, if we reuenge the iniuries we receiue. If we come thereunto as to a remedie, let vs come without Anger; not as if it were a pleasing thing to be reuenged, but because it is profi­table: but oftentimes it hath bin more wisdome to dissemble then to reuenge.

CHAP. XXXIII.

An answer to the r [...]ply that to re­uenge a mans selfe is to make himselfe feared by all men. BVT those injuries that are done vs by mightie men are not only to be suffered ioyfully, but patiently. They wil doe it againe, if they beleeue they haue done it. Those mindes whom Fortune hath made insolent haue this detestable qualitie in them that they hate those whom they haue harmed. Famous and memorable is his speech who was become olde in the seruice of Kings, when a certaine man asked him: The miserie of old Courtiers. How he had attained so rare a thing, as old age in his seruice in Court? By suf­fering iniuries (saith he) and by giuing thankes. Oft times it is so profitable not to reuenge iniurie, that it beseemeth vs not to confesse the same. Caius Caesar hauing imprisoned the sonne of one Pastor a famous Knight of Rome, being offended with the nicenesse of his attire and the curious frizling of his haire. when his Father required him to grant him his sonnes life, as if he had beene ad­monished to punish his misdeeds, commanded him forthwith to be put to death, yet least he should seeme to behaue himselfe too cruelly towards the Father, he inuited him to supper the same day. Pastor came thether with a merrie coun­tenance, Caesar carowsed to him nine ounces of wine, and set an attendant ex­pressely to see whether hee did him reason. The poore man drunke vp all, as if hee had drunke the bloud of his sonne. After this, hee sent him perfumes and a crowne; commanding the messenger to obserue whether he tooke them [...] he re­ceiued them the same day, wherein he had buried his sonne. The poore guest of a hundreth yeares of age, and such a one as was troubled with the gout, lay al­most soused in wine, yet drunke he vp such large potions, that might seeme into­lerable, had he banquetted at his childrens birth-day, yet shed he no teares, nei­ther suffered he any signe of griefe to slip from him. Hee supped as if hee had gotten his sonnes pardon. Doest thou aske me why? He had an other: what did Priamus? A notable exam­ple of Achilles. dissembled hee not his displeasure? imbraced hee not the Kings knees? he applied those fatall hands to his reuerend lippes that were imbrewed with the bloud of his sonne; hee supt, and yet without perfumes, without crownes; and him did his cruell enemie exhort with many comfortable spee­ches to eate his meate, not to the end he might emptie hugh cuppes, setting a watch ouer his head to obserue him. He had contemned Pastor had he feared, but now pietie pacified his wrath. He was worthie to haue libertie, to depart from the banquet to gather vp his sonnes bones: yet suffered hee not this. Meane while that courtous and gentle yong man inuited the good old Father, prouoked the Father in merrie cups to burie and pacifie his cares. Contrari­wise, Pastor fained himselfe merrie, and forgetfull of that which had hapned the same day. His other sonne had died likewise, had not the Father and guest pleased the tyrant Caligula, that inuited him.

CHAP. XXXIIII.

With whom soe­uer we are to deale withall, Choler is vnne­cessarie. And this considerati­on is the second remedie. SO then we ought to auoid wrath whether it bee with our equall, with our superiours or inferiours. To striue against our equals is a matter doubtful, against our superiours is furie, against our infe­riours is basenes. It is the part of a silly and miserable man to bite him that biteth him. Gnats and Ants turne there heads backe [Page 549] to bite if a man layholde of them. Weake Creatures suppose themselues hurt if they be touched. It will make vs more vnited, if wee bethinke our s [...]lues, how much he may profit vs hereafter with whom we are angrie [...] and the offen­ces will bee redeemed with mercies. Here is some abrupt breaking of. Let vs also thinke on this what comm [...]n­dation the fame of Clemencie will yeeld vnto vs, and how many hath pardon made profitable friends. Neither let vs be angry with the children of our adver­saries and enemies. Amongst the examples of Syllaes crueltie this is not on of the least, that he depriued all their children who were proscribed from all publike office and authoritie. It is an extreme injustice for a man, to make any one the heire of that hatred which he hath borne to his Father? As oftentimes as wee shall be slow in pardoning, let vs bethinke vs whether it should be good for vs, that all the men of the World should be so affectioned against vs. How often times doth he require pardon, who would not pardon? and how often hath a man humbled himselfe at such another mans feet, whom hee before time hath driuen out of his presence. What is more glorious then to change enmitie in­to amitie. The third reme­die to giue them the vpper hand, whom wee haue the aduan­tage of. What more faithfull confederates haue the people of Rome, then these who were their most mortall enemies. What should the Empire bee at this day, except wholesome prouidence had mixed the conquered with the conque [...]ors. Shall any man be angrie with thee? reconcile thou him by thy be­nefits. The displeasure sodainly qualeth when as the one part forbeareth to con­tend. No man fighteth except he be re [...]isted. The fourth to giue place to such as are quar­relsome. If both parts are contentious he hath the better hand, that first retireth him selfe, and hee is conquered that o­uercommeth. Hath he striken thee? flie backe, for in striking him againe thou shalt giue him both occasion to strike often & an excuse for striking: thou canst not be parted from him when thou wilt. Would any man strike his enemie so grieuously, that hee should leaue his hand in the wound, and could not recall himselfe from the stroke? but wrath is such a weapon as it cannot scarcely be recalled.

CHAP. XXXV.

WE furnish our selues with conuenient armes with a sword not long or ouer short, The fi [...]t to dis­charge our sel [...]es of that which hindereth vs so much as Anger doth. shall wee not auoid the impulsions of the minde more grieuous, more furious, and irrevocable then these? wee take pleasure in that Gelding that staieth as soone as he is rayned in, that keepeth him in his ordinarie pace, that knoweth when to turne, and which may easily be brought backe to the place where hee began his first carier. We know that our nerues are out of frame, when as they are moued against our willes. Hee is either aged or of a weake constitution who when he would walke, runneth: we suppose those motions of the minde to be the healthfullest and strongest, which are disposed at our pleasure and not as they list. But nothing hath profited vs so much as first, The sixth consi­deration, the de­formitie of Anger. to behold the deformi­tie of a thing, and afterwardes the danger. There is no passion more deformed then this which spoyleth the fairest faces of the World and maketh those eyes dreadfull which before time were peaceable. All seemelines abandoneth those that are angrie, and if he bee as decently arrayed as any man can desire, he will draw his gowne aside, The discription of wrath both i [...] b [...]die and mind. and will cast of all care of himselfe. If the haire of his head be naturally or artificially well trimmed, a man shall see it stare and stand vpright. If the spirit be moued, the veines swell, the breast is shaken with vio­lent [Page 550] breathing, the voice in issuing forth puffeth vp the necke with furie. The joynts tremble, the hands shake, all the bodie is tossed like a Pinnace in a tem­pest. In what estate thinkest thou is the minde inwardly, when such deformitie sheweth it selfe outwardly? How more terrible is the inward countenance? how more violent the breath? how more intended the passion, which would burst it selfe, A liuing descrip­tion of anger. vnlesse she inforced her passage? Such is their countenance, as the enemie hath, or wilde beastes imbrued with slaughter, or of such as are addressed to spoile and slaughter. So deformed furies as the infernall monsters are imagined by the Poets; begirt with Serpents and breathing fire. Such as the most dread­full monsters of Hell assume vnto themselues, when they issue forth to inkin­dle warres, to sow discord amongst Nations and to dismember peace. In such manner should wee picture out anger, that hath fierie furie in her eyes, a crie compounded of puffing, lowing, mourning, and other such confused and dreadfull noyces, shaking in both her handes her dierfull weapons without care of couering her bodie, frowning, couered with bloud and wounds: yea mortified with strokes which shee hath giuen her selfe, her gate ridiculous and furious, all her behauiour confused and confounded, running here and there to ouerthrow all that which she meeteth with all, hated of all, and aboue all things wishing her owne death. And if she cannot doe worse, desirous to teare Hea­uens, Seas and Earth, from their places, in brefe no lesse hurtfull then hatefull. Or if a man wil behold her in such sort as our Poets describe her:

She in her hand shaketh a bloudie whip.

or,

Hauing her cote or in many peeces rent,
And with the bloud of guiltlsse men bespre [...]t.

Or if any man may imagine any more horrible face of a horrible passion.

CHAP. XXXVI.

The vse of a glasse good to re­ [...]raine Choler. SOme (saith Sextius) that were angrie haue profited themselues by looking into a looking glasse, for they were troubled in beholding so great a change in themselues, in that they knew not them­selues at that time. But how little was that which this image re­flected from the glasse to represent and expresse their true filthi­nesse and deformitie? if the minde might haue beene seene, and might shine, and shew it selfe in any matter, she would confound vs in beholding her so sordid, so inraged, so deformed, and puffed vp. And now as yet her lothsomenesse is so great, that she passeth thorow bones, and flesh, and whatsoeuer other impedi­ments. But what if shee were seene naked. For I beleeue that no man is terri­fied from wrath by beholding a glasse: what then? hee that came vnto a loo­king glasse to reforme himselfe, had alreadie conformed himselfe. They that are angrie haue no seemely countenance, their lookes are dreadfull and cruell, and such would they seeme to be as they desire to be. Rather ought we to con­sider this how many men wrath hath armed to wound themselues. The seuenth re­med [...]e, is to c [...] ­side [...] how many men he hath rai­ned. Some thorow to much rage haue burst there veines, and by force of crying haue vo­mited bloud, and abundance of humour being thrust into their eyes hath dul­led and dimmed the sight and the cleernesse thereof, and such as were sicke haue [Page 551] relapsed into diseases. There is no more swifter way vnto madnesse then this. Many therefore haue continued the furie of their wrath, neither could recouer againe that vnderstanding that they themselues exiled. Furie prouoked A [...]x to death, and wrath put him in furie. They wish death to their children, po­uertie to themselues, ruine to their houses [...] and denie themselues to be An­grie, resembling those that are furious, who being enraged say they are not mad. Most friendly to their enemies, most dangerous to their dearest friendes, forgetfull of Lawes except they may hurt thereby, incensed vpon the least oc­casion: neyther affable in speech nor companie or intertainment. They doe all things forcibly, they are addressed to fight with their swords & to die on their swords. For a mightie euill hath surprised them, and such as exceedeth all o­ther vices. Other sinnes enter by little and little, the force hereof is sodaine and vniuersall. To conclud she keepeth all other affections in subjection, and con­quereth the most vehementest loue. The conclusion is that choler is an extreme euill and the rather because it spa­reth no other vices. They haue therefore murthered the bo­dies whom they haue loued, and euen enfolded in there armes: whom they haue fitted to their graues. Wrath hath spurned at auarice, the most indurate and least flexible euil, inforcing her to scatter her riches, and to set fire on his house and goods, when they were all gathered together. What hath not the ambitious man cast away his so long affected tokens and titles of majestracie, and repulsed that ho­nour which was offered vnto him? There is no affection ouer which wrath hath no power.

The end of the second Booke of Anger.

A TREATISE OF ANGER, WRITTEN BY LVCIVS ANNAEVS SENECA TO HIS FRIEND NOVATVS. The third Booke.

The Argument of IVSTVS LIPSIVS.

HE prosecuteth the other part of the remedie against Anger, which hee placed in the midst of his former Booke, but differred the same. That we sinne not in Anger, that is that wee refraine the same and represse it; which is performed in diuers sorts. But it must bee done alwayes and presently in a head-long, and vnbridled affection which ARISTO­TLE excuset [...]h: But he accuseth him, and once more discouereth the loathsomenes of An­ger. These things performeth he vntill the fourth Chapter. Then groweth hee to di­uision alleadging that he will speake of three things. First, how we may not bee angrie. Secondly, how we may be freed from Anger. Thirdly, how we may pacifie and please such a one as is Angrie. These although in other places he performeth with repetition of the former, yet performeth he it worth [...]ly, and profitably till the end of the Booke: and thou shalt haue golde [...] and diuine admonitions and sayings.

CHAP. I.

To refraine wrath in such manner as wee o [...]ht, we must lea [...]ne the na­tures of men that are attain­ted th [...]rewith. NOW, my Nouatus, will wee attempt to doe that which thou thy selfe hast most instantly desired, namely, how wee may roote out Anger out of our mindes, or at leastwise bridle it and inhi­bite the assaults thereof. This must bee done sometimes openly and in all mens sight, when as yet the force of the euil is as yet so smal as it can­not endure it: sometimes secretly when as it is to much inflamed and is exasperated and increa­seth vpon euerie impediment. We must con­sider what forces she hath, and how intire they be. Whether she is to be chastised and driuen backe, or whether wee ought to giue pl [...]ce [...]nto her, whilst the fi [...]st tempest be pacified for feare least shee carrie away those remedies with her, that should reclaime her: and consideration is [Page 553] to be had, according to euery ones manners. For some are ouercome by pray­ers, some insult, and are exasperated by submission: Some are ouercome with terrors [...] some hath reproofe, other some confession, the third hath shame re­voked from their purpose, and some by delay, which is the true though slowest remedie of these so head-long passions, wherevnto at the last wee must descend. For other affections admit delay, and may bee healed by little and little, but the sodaine and head-long violence of Anger proceedeth not leasure­ly, but is wholy intire in the beginning. Neither doth she solicite mens minds after the manner of other vices, but she transporteth them, but vexeth them being no Masters of themselues, and that are as desirous of their owne euill as of an others. Shee sheweth her selfe not only furious against that she vnderta­keth, but against all that which casually encountereth her in the way. All o­ther vices incite the minde, wrath casteth i [...] downe head-long. The rest al­though they cannot resist their affections, at least the passions themselues main­taine themselues, this no otherwise then lightning and tempest and other im­pressions of the ayre (which are sodaine and fall in an instant) reinforceth it selfe and increaseth more and more. These other vices are estranged from rea­son, this is wholy destitute, and is a furie. The rest haue light accessions and decieueable increases; in wrath the mindes of men are prostituted and dejected. There is no passion more astonished, that vrgeth more, nothing that imployeth his forces more desperately, and swiftly, or whether it bee that shee get the vp­per hand (which maketh her more proud) or whether shee hath beene repul­sed (which inflameth her with furie) she giueth not ouer, neither retireth al­though she haue beene repulsed; and when Fortune presenteth her not with a­ny aduersarie shee striketh and biteth her selfe, prouided that shee may main­taine her selfe: For her beginings are small, but she becommeth maruellously great.

CHAP. II.

SHee ouerslippeth no age, That all ages, men, and people are attainted with Anger which may not be said by other passion [...]. shee excepteth no kind of men. Some Nations thorow the benefit of pouertie a [...]e exempted from dis­solution, neither know they what it is: some others haue fled Idlenesse, because they are still in trauell and wander from one Countrie to an other. They that liue rudely and rustikely haue neuer vsed trumperies, nor fraud, nor any of those mischeefes which are bred in places more frequented. There is no Nation vnder Heauen, whether they be Greekes or Barbarians, how puissant soeuer they be, that can say that they are exempted from the assaults and instigations of anger, no lesse pernicious to those, who are subject to certaine Lawes, as to those whose Law is force and a­mongst whom the strongest is the greatest. To conclude those other passions inuade men in particular [...] but wrath is the only passion that layeth hold vpon all men. Neuer was it seene, that one only Nation was supprised with the loue of one only woman. Neyther hath a whole Citie fixed their hopes vpon mony and lucre. Ambiton seazeth this or that man only. Tyrannie hath not dominion in all places. But oftentimes anger hath possessed whole troopes, men, women, old young, Princes and their people haue gathered together to satisfie Anger. And a multitude being incensed by two or three words of him that lead them the way, A liuely repre­sentation of pub­like furie. were moued to mutinie. Forthwith haue they addressed themselues to [Page 554] [...]ire, and he that for his eloquence wa [...] accounted gracious in al mens eyes, in the middest of honour and the height of his Discourse, hath purchased the displea­sure of the whole Assemblie. The Legions haue darted their Iauelins against their generall. The people haue bandied against the Senate, and without ex­pecting the elections or the nomination of Chieftaine of the Armie, haue sud­denly of themselues chosen out Captaines to execute their furious designes, and rushing into the houses of men of honour, and the best Cittizens, haue executed and put them to death. They haue broken the lawes of Nations by outraging Embassadours, and vnspeakeable furie hath possessed the whole Cittie, they haue not allowed time, to the end the publique insurrection might be pacified, but incontinently haue armed their Nauie, and manned it with the first Souldi­ers they could get. Without order, without respect of auncient ceremonies the people haue issued forth, being guided and gouerned by their own furie, laying holde on whatsoeuer weapons came casually to their hands, armed themselues therewith, and [...]inally by a great and miserable ouerthrow, haue receiued a [...]ust punishment for their rashnes and audacious [...]ollie.

CHAP. III.

THis is the end of those Barbarians, who runne thus inconsiderate­ly to warre, as soone as any appearance of iniury hath seized their light braines: they are suddenly moued, and whether despi [...]e driueth, they rush in desperation into those Regions which they intend to spoyle, without apprehension of danger, or obseruation of discipline; contrariwise, they seeke out misfortunes, they take pleasure to re­ceiue wounds, and to runne in furiously vpon the points of the sword, and to make them way by the wounds which they receiued. It is not to be doubted, sayest thou but that the effect of choler is very great and dangerous, shew vs therfore som remedies and means how it may be healed. But as I said in my for­mer Bookes, Aristotle stands forth, and pleades for Anger, and willes vs not to extinguish it wholly in vs. He [...]geth a­gainst Aristotle who maintai­neth Ang [...]r, and sheweth the basenesse and villeiny thereof. He alleadgeth that it is the spurre of vertue, and that if a man be depriued thereof, his heart is disarmed, and he becommeth recreant, idle, and vnable to execute any great attempts. It is very needfull therefore to reproue the villeiny and beastlines of this vice, and to set before mens eyes how monstrous a thing it is for a man to be so hat [...]fully and violently bent against another, and what furie is in him who ruinateth himselfe in ru [...]ning another, and pretending to plunge and drowne certaine things in the Sea, he cannot ef­fect his purpose but by plunging and drowning himselfe. What then? Will a­ny man call him sensible or discreet, who being surprised as it were with a tem­pest goeth not but is driuen, and serueth a furious passion? Neyther comman­ded other to execute his vengeance, but he himselfe will be agent to performe it, hauing his heart and hand stretched out to satisfie his cruelty, and without sparing (fierce hang-man that he is) his owne and onely friends, yea, and those whom after he hath massacred, he will presently mourne for. Is it possible that any man should admit this p [...]ssion for an abbeter and companion, and vertue who shutteth out all counsailes, without which vertue can execute nothing. Fraile and sinister are those [...]orces, and powerfull to their owne preiudice, into which the sickenesse and the violence of the fit haue driuen the sicke patient. Thinke not therefore that I employ my selfe vnprofitably in defaming Anger, [Page 555] as if men alreadie doubted thereof. I doe it because there are some found a­mongst the Philosophers of greatest note and reputation, See Aristotle in the fourth booke of his mo­rals [...] chap. [...]1. who hath pleaded for her and said that she is profitable, and animateth the mind vnto battel, and that in humane actions and all other affaires, we ought to manage them with some vigour. But least any man should be deceiued, or should imagine, that either in a certaine time and place it was a thing that were profitable, it behoueth mee to discouer the violent and vnbrideled rage thereof, and set her do [...] withall her equipage, such as are her racks, her nerues and strings, her Iailes her gibbets and s [...]akes to be burned at, and bookes to dragge dead bodies, diuers sortes of shackles, diuers sorts of tortures, the tearing of the s [...]esh and members, the bran­ding in the forehead, the dennes of sauage beasts. Let Anger be placed amongst all these instruments where she may gnash her teeth, and whistle out some dire­full and horrible noyse, being of her selfe more hideous then all that whereof she maketh vse to execute her furie.

CHAP. IIII.

CErtainly although we call the rest in question; The continuati­on of this de­scription, and a liuely represen­tation of Anger. yet is there no pas­sion more deformed then this, as in our former Bookes wee haue presented her fierce and fur [...]ous, sometimes pale, hauing sudden­ly repulsed all her bloud to the heart, then inflamed againe, as if her whole heate and spirit were mounted againe into her counte­nance, hauing her colour bloudie, her veines swolne, her eyes sometimes quiue­ring an sparkling, sometimes fixed and se [...]led vpon something. Moreouer, she hath teeth that grinde, crack one against another, desiring to deuoure some one, and making such a noyse as wilde Boares are accustomed to doe when they rub and sharpen their fangs. Adde hereunto the beating of her handes and breast, her often sighes, her groanes, drawne from the depth of her heart, the agi [...]ation of her whole bodie, her speech intercepted with sudden exclamations, her trembling lips sometime closed and mumbling diuers menaces. I beleeue that the wilde beastes being pressed by famine, or that beare an arrow fixed in their entrailes, yea, and then likewise when they are at their last bay, are not so hide­ous as a man inflamed with choler. But if you will spare a time to heare her speeches and menaces, which the heart vttereth with tormented rage, would not euery man incontinently retire himselfe from such a danger, when he shall perceiue that Anger beginneth by his owne miserie? Wilt thou not therefore haue me admonish those, who do all that they can, to make it knowne, that they are cholericke, and thinke it to be a proofe of their value, that a man transpor­ted with choler cannot be called couragious and free, but feeble and slaue vnto all others? Wilt thou not suffer me to aduertise those that are more circum­spect to looke about themselues, that some other passions of the minde doe in­uade the wicked, but Anger stealeth into the hearts of the most learned Clerks, and that otherwise behaue themselues like good men, so that some men thinke Anger to be a token of simplicity, and ordinarily we suppose that he that is most honest, hath his part of this infirmitie.

CHAP. V.

How hur [...]full wrath is, and the th [...] prin­cipall remedies thereof. WHereto then tendeth this Discourse [...] To the end that no man should suppose himselfe to be warranted from this passion, be­cause she induceth those men that are modest and peaceable by nature, to become rude and violent. Euen as a good disposition of bodie, and the care to maintaine our selues in health, preuay­leth nothing against the plague, which indifferently la [...]eth holde both on w [...]ake and strong; so in Anger there is a danger as well for them that are disordered, as for those men that are sober and peaceable, and haue care of themselues, the more the trouble, which Anger causeth in th [...]m is great. But for as much as the first remedie is not to be angrie, the second to refraine Anger the third to reme­die another mans Anger, I will first of all shew th [...] meanes how to auoyde An­ger, secondly, how we may discharge our selues of Anger, if it beginneth to be enkindled in vs; thirdly, in what sort we may pacifie a man that is displeased, and temper and reduce him to reason. We shall subdue Anger, if from time to time we represent vnto our selues all those vices that are hatched vnder this passion, and if we consider the same as we ought, with all her dependances and appurtenances; we must accuse her before our selues, condemne her, examine her infirmities, and lay her open to view; then compare her with the most de­testable vices, to the end that as yet we may be better instructed what she is. A­uarice gathereth and locketh vp for a honest man that is not couetous: wrath consumeth all, and gratifieth very few, and is welcome to none. An angry Ma­ster hath driuen som of his seruants to runne away, some hath he put to death [...] when as he lost more by being angry, then that was for which hee was angry: wrath hath made the father mourne, the husband to bee diuorced, the magi­strate to be hated, and the Candidate to be repulsed. It is worser likewise then ryot, because she taketh pleasure in her owne delights, this in another mans sor­row. She surpasseth malignitie and hatred; for they are contented to see any man become vnhappie, this will make them vnhappy; the other two reioyce at those euils which come casually, she cannot expect fortune, she will hurt him whom she hateth, and will not be hurt. There is nothing so grieuous as secret hatred, but wrath concealeth it. What is more lamentable then warre? therein is it that men discouer their displeasures. Moreouer, that publique and priuate Anger is a weake and forcelesse warre. Furthermore without recounting those damages which we will adde hereafter, nor of ambushes, nor of perpetuall care [...] which engender so many quarrels, wrath intending to reuenge her selfe punish­eth her selfe, she is the canker of humane nature. For Nature inuiteth vs to ami­tie, Anger to hatred; Nature commaundeth vs to assist one another, Anger to hate one another, the one commandeth vs to profite, the other to hurt. Adde hereunto, that whereas indignation proceedeth from an ouer great suspicion of himselfe, and seemeth to be couragious, yet is she weake and infirme; for no man is lesse then he by whom he suspecteth himselfe to be contemned. But a man that is truely valiant, and that knoweth his owne worth, reuengeth not an iniurie, because he feeleth it not. Euen as arrowes recoile backe if they be shot at some stonie and hard marke and such solid things as are strucken, procure his griefe that striketh them; so is there no iniury that may pierce a great heart, it is farre weaker then that she attempteth. How farre more worthy a thing is it to dispise all iniuries and contumelies, as if the mind [...] were impregnable. Reuenge [Page 557] is a confession of paine. The minde is not great which is animated by iniurie. Eyther a stronger then thy selfe, or a weaker [...]ath wronged thee; if he be wea­ker then thy selfe, spare him, if mightier support thy selfe.

CHAP. VI.

THere [...]s no one more certain argument of true magnanimity, then if thou resolue thy selfe, The effec [...]s of true magnani­mitie, approued by a fit compa­rison. that nothing may befall thee that may moue thee. The highest and [...] gouerned part of the world, and neerest to the starres, is not troubled with clouds, not subiect to tempests, nor afflicted with stormes: there is no tumult in the same, the inferiour heauens push forth lightnings. In like sort a sublimed and high spirit is alwayes quiet, and placed in a peaceable station, restrayning in him­selfe that, whence Anger borroweth an occasion of contention: it is moderate, venerable and setled. But thou shalt finde none of these in an angry man: for who is he that is betraied to sorrow and furie, that hath not reiected his former modesty? Who is he that is turbulent in passion, and incensed against another man, that hath not dispossessed himselfe of all shame fastnesse? What man is he that is displeased, that keepeth any measure, or remembr [...]th him of his due [...]y, or containeth his tongue, who hath beene Master of any on [...] part of his bodie; who could gouern himselfe? That notable lesson of Democritus to finde out the true repose will profite vs infinitely, If we doe nothing eyther priuately or publikely that exceedeth our forces. Neuer doe things succeede so happily vnto any man who intermedleth with many affaires, but that sometimes by some one man, or from the affaires themselues, there ariseth some fault which disposeth the heart vnto Anger. Euen as he that trauelleth hastily thorow the frequented streetes of a Cittie, must meete with many men, and in one place [...]p, in another be stop­ped, and in a third be besprinckled with dir [...]; so in the trauaile & walkes of this life, so confouded and confused, there happen many impediments and manie quarrels: the one hath deceiued our hope, another hath deferred it, another hath intercepted it, the euents haue not beene answerable to our expectation. Fortune is not so addicted to any man that she yeeldeth him euery way corre­spondence in his manifold attempts. It followeth therefore that he knoweth not what it is to endure men, nor the estate of humane affaires, who thinkes that any thing befalleth him otherwise then hee made reckoning of. To the end therfore that the mind may be quiet, it is not to be [...]ossed, neither as I said; trou­bled with the managing of many affaires, nor to be charged with mighty af­faires, and such as exceede her strength. It is an easie matter to carry light bur­thens, and to cast them from one shoulder to another, without letting them fal. But if any one hath loaded vs, and the burthen be heauy, we carry it with much labour, and finally we discharge it vpon those that are neerest vs, or if we pant vnder the burthen by reason we are ouer loden, it is hard for vs to goe forwards or backewards without staggering.

CHAP. VII.

How requisite mediocritie and temperance are in managing the affaires of this [...]i [...]e, and intem­perating and quieting the minde. KNow thou that the same falleth out in ciuill and domestique mat­ters. Those affaires that are [...]as [...]y and light, accompanie him that doth them, those that are ouer-great and exceede his might, that acteth them, are vneasie to compasse, and after a man hath laid holde of them, they puzzle and oppresse him that carrieth them: finally when he thinketh that he hath best hold of them, hee stumbleth, falleth, and his burthen rowleth downe vpon him, and troubleth him. Thence falleth it out often times, that hee who vndertaketh difficult matters, and would make them easie, is frustrated of the most part of his thoughts. In all thine enterprises, measure thy selfe together with those thinges which thou wilt manage, and whereunto thou addressest thy selfe, otherwise the displea­sure thou shalt conceiue in leauing thy worke vnperfect, will make thee mar­uellously pensiue. In this place wee ought to obserue whether a man bee of a violent spirit, or setled, or fearefull: In a generous mind, repulse will inkindle wrath, in a faint and abject minde, sadnesse: Let therefore our action bee ney­ther too small nor too audacious, nor too wicked; let vs follow those things that are answerable to our hope, let vs attempt nothing, that when wee haue attai­ned the same, will make vs wonder at the successe thereof.

CHAP. VIII.

Noble obseruati­ons for all men. LEt vs take order that wee receiue not such an injurie which wee cannot disgeast. Let vs lead our liues with temperate and familiar men, not with those that are troublesome and foolish: men in­vest their manners with whom they are conuersant. And as some infirmities of the bodie are deriued and transported by at­touchment, so the soule communicateth her infirmities and passions, to those that approch her. A Drunkard hath drawne his companion into loue with wine, and the companie of dissolute fellowes hath effeminated a man who should be as hard as the rocke. Auarice empoysoneth those that dwell neere vnto her; contrariwise, there is the same reason as is touching vertues, which moderate all things that are with them: neyther was any profitable countrey or wholsome aire more healthful for mans bodie, then for good mindes that are scarce setled to conuerse with good men, which thing how auaileable it is thou shalt vnderstand, if thou consider how wilde beasts are tamed by mens handling, and how the fiercest beast laieth by his furie, if he hath long time bin vnder the discipline of a man. That whch is furious in her is lenified and tempered by lit­tle and little. Moreouer he that conuerseth with peaceable and good men, not only becommeth better by reason of their example, but in as much likewise as he findeth no occasions to be displeased; he is not in practise of the passion. He ought therefore to flie from all these, who in his knowledge are disposed and ea­sily prouoked vnto Anger. And who are they, saist thou? many such as vpon diuers causes will doe the same. The proude man will offend thee with con­tempt, the rich man with contumely, the lasciuious man with iniurie, the hate­full man with malignitie, the quarrelsome by contention, the boaster and lyer by vanitie. Thou wilt not endure to be feared by a suspicious man, to be ouer­come [Page 559] by an obstinate, to be scorned by an effeminate man. Make choice of simple facile and moderate men, who wil neither prouoke thee to wrath, nor be mou [...]d though thou offend them. But as yet more profit shalt thou reap from submisse, curteous, and affable men, yet not so pliant as they may proue flatterers, for too much flatterie offendeth angry men. I had a friend & he an honest man, but yet otherwaies too ready to be moued, who was as litle pleased with flatterie as he was with reproofe. It is well known that Caelius the Oratour was extremly cho­lerick with whom, as it is reported, there supped a client of his within his cham­ber, who was indowed with singular patience, but hard was it for him being met with such a companion, to auoid his displeasure, with whom he supped. He ther­fore thought it to be the best to smooth him vp in whatsoeuer he said, & to giue way to him. Caelius could not indure this smoothing, but exclaimed. Speake some­what against me that we may be two. But he also because being angrie, he saw the o­ther pacified & silent gaue ouer his displeasure, because he had no aduersary. Let vs therefore at least-wise make choice of these (if we by priuy to our own imper­fections) that wil apply themselues to our manners and discourse, vndoubtedly they wi [...]l make vs delicate and bring vs into an euill custome, not to giue [...]are to any thing that is displeasing vnto vs, yet shall this profit vs, that they allow vs some intermission and quiet in our errour. A hard and vntamed nature likewise will indure a flattering and affable entertainment. Nothing is harsh and displea­sing when we smooth and handle it gently. As oft as the disputation shall bee longer or more eager, let vs resist at first before it be inforced. Contention nou­risheth it selfe and layes holde on those that flie her. It is easier for a man to ab­staine from a debate, then to retire himselfe.

CHAP. IX.

MOreouer such as are angrie ought to forbeare all serious studies, The fourth ex­pedient agai [...]st Anger is neither to charge that minde or body to much. or at least wise they are to exercise them without lassitude, and the minde ought not to be busied in many things, but to be entertai­ned with more pleasing studies. Let the reading of Poets pacifi [...] him, and the ouerloking of Histories content him with varieties, let him be handled more tenderly a [...]d delicately. Pithagoras pacified the per­turbations of the mind by his Harpe. But who knoweth not that Clarions and Trumpets doe wonderfully moue? and that there are some straines of voice and musick which make the mind tractable? Great things are profitable for con­fused eyes, and there are other coulors that content the feeble sight, and the brightnes of some other doth blemish them, so the studie of pleasant stories doth comfort languishing spirits. We must flie the places, the pleas, and courts where audience is giuen, all which doe exulcerate the minde, and beware like­wise to weri [...] our bodies. For lassitude consumeth all that which is sweete and plausible in vs, and awakeneth that which is sharpe and stirring. For this cause they that haue no good stomack intending to imploy themselues in some mat­ters of importance, are accustomed to represse the cholericke humor which tra­uell stirreth ouer much, by eating some little thing, and the rather because hun­ger extinguisheth natural heat, hurteth the bloud, and staieth the course therof, by reason that the veines are trauelled, or because the body being attenuated & faint incountereth the soule. Vndoubtedly for the same cause & consideration sickmen & old men are subject vnto anger. And therfore for the same causes are hunger & thirst to be auoided because they exasperate & inflame mens minds.

CHAP. X.

The fifth expe­dient is, the knowledge th [...]t we ought to haue of our selues and the infirmities of our mindes. IT is an old saying, That it is easie to driue a wearied man into the frets. As much may bee said of him that is a hungrie, of him that is drie, and by euery man that is displeased at any thing. For as vlcers vpon euery light touch, and afterwards vpon a shew of touching, seeme painfull, so the minde that is affected, is offen­ded with the least things, in so much as a salutation, an Epistle, an Oration, and Interrogation prouoke them to displeasure. Such as are pained, are neuer tou­ched without complaining. And therefore it is the best to take medicine vpon the first sence or appearance of the sicknesse, in like sort to giue no libertie to our discourses, but to refraine them carefully. But when the passions begin to take head, and burst forth it is an easie matter to restraine them. There are certaine signes which goe before a sicknesse. Euen as tempests and showers haue certaine signes before they fall, so Anger, loue, and all these stormes which vexe the minde; haue certaine tokens to presage them. Such as are sub­iect to the falling sicknesse vnderstand that their fit is at hand, when as the tops of their fingers and toes are cold, when their sight is darkned, when their me­morie faileth them, when their head turneth, and their nerues are contracted; Then haue they recourse to their accustomed remedies to preuent their fall [...] that is at hand: by potions or perfumes they driue away that sicknesse which in this sort alieneth their sences, with fomentations they resist the conflict of their cold, and the rigour of their infirmitie. If these remedies relieue them not, they retire themselues apart and fall where no man seeth them. It shall profit a man much if he know his disease, and if hee bee experienced to cut of the violence thereof, before it hath gotten power to exspaciate. Let vs consider what it is that offendeth vs most. One man is moued by bitter words, another by some outrages that are offred him. This man will haue his nobilitie supported, that man his beautie. Such a one desireth to be reputed a gallant fellow, that other to be most learned; this man is impatient of pride, that other of contumacie. He thinketh his seruants vnworthie to draw him to displeasure. The other is a Tyrant within doores, and gentle without. Such a one thinketh himselfe moc­ked, if he bee intreated. That other a contumely if hee bee not requested. All men are not strooken in one place.

CHAP. XI.

The sixth meanes to bridle Anger. Be not too cu­rious. THou must therfore know what is weake in thee, to the intent that most of al thou maist preuent the same: it is not expedient for vs to see al things, nor to heare all things. Let many injuries passe by vs, and he that indeuoreth himselfe not to know them, is for the most part waranted from thē. Wilt thou not be angrie? be not curious. Who inquireth what is spoken against himselfe? Who wil [...]ound and search out what euill speeches are spoken by him secretly, doth himselfe disquiet himselfe. An euell interpretation maketh vs suppose that a word which is spoken by vs is a great outrage. Some things therfore are to be differed, some things to be delu­dred, and somethings to be pardoned. Wrath in diuers sorts must be circumscri­bed, and diuers things are to be turned to jest and sport. They say that Socrates [Page 561] hauing receiued a boxe on the care, said nothing else but: That it was a great fault, A notable ex­ample. that men knew not when they should come abroad with a helmet vpon their heads. It skils not how the injurie be done, but how it is suffered. Neither see I why moderation should be a hard matter, when as I knew that the minds of certaine Tyrants being puffed vp by fortune and libertie, haue repressed that crueltie which was familiar vnto them. It is reported that Pisistratus a Tyrant in Athens, when as a certaine Drunken man, that sat at banquet with him, had spoken ma­nie thinges against his crueltie (and there wanted not some [...] who would haue executed whatsoeuer hee should haue commaunded, and one man on this side, and another on the other, laboured to inkindle his displeasure) that hee tooke all things patiently, and answered those, that prouoked him after this manner: That hee was no more angrie with him; then if a blindfolde fellow hauing his eyes tyed vp should runne vpon him. The greater part of men haue bred quarrell to them­selues; either by suspecting false things, or by aggrauating small things.

CHAP. XII.

OFtimes Anger seeketh vs out, The seuenth meanes not to seeke out euill occasions, and if they profer them selues to repulse them. more oftentimes search wee her, which is neuer to bee called for, but euen then when wee light vpon her, then ought we to reject her. No man saith vnto him­selfe; This for which I am displeased, either I haue done my selfe, or else I might haue done it. No man estimateth the minde of him, that committeth the fault, but the fact it selfe. Yet this is to be lookt into, whe­ther he did it wittingly or casually; whether he were compelled or deceiued; whether he did it for hatred or reward; whether of his owne accord or by ano­ther mans instigation. Furthermore, the age and fortune of him that doth this is to be respected much, to the end we may support the one with sweetnes, the other with respect. Let vs put our selues in his place against whom we are dis­pleased; now doth the wrong estimation of our selues make vs angry, and those things which we would doe we will not suffer. Each man is not patient; but the greatest remedie against wrath is delay, that the first furie thereof may bee repressed, and that mist which dulleth our mindes eyther may be dispersed, or be lesse thicke. There are some of those things which carry thee away head­long, which I say, not a day but an houre may rectifie, some of these will wholly vanish. If in this case we demand delay, it then appeareth that it is not Anger but reason that commandeth. What soeuer it be thou wouldest know what it is, deliuer it into the hands of time. A man cannot diligently obserue that which passeth away swiftly. Plato could not obtain any delay from himselfe when he was angry with his seruant, but commanded him presently to lay by his coat, and to yeeld his shoulders to the stroaks of the whip, which he himselfe would l [...]y on. After he knew that he was angrie, he withdrew his hand that was rea­dy to strike, and strooke like vnto him that was like to be striken. Beeing after­wards demaunded by his friend, who came thither by chance, what he did? I (saith he) chastise a man that is angrie. This wise-man, astonished at this his de­formed countenance and iesture, tooke no more heed to his slaue, because he had found another, whom he ought rather to haue chastised; he therefore de­priued himselfe of that authoritie ouer his seruants; and notwithstanding be­cause his seruant had committed some fault that was worthy punishment, hee said vnto SPEVSIPPVS, I pray thee chastise my seruant with stroakes, because I am [Page 562] angrie. He beateth him not for that which another had beaten him: I am an­grie, said he, I shall doe more then I should. I will doe it more willingly. Let not this seruant be in his power that is not Master of himselfe. Will any man commit reuenge to a wrathfull man, since Plato hath taken his authority from himselfe? Let nothing be lawfull for thee as long as thou art angry: why? be­cause thou wilt haue all things lawfull for thee. Fight thou with thy selfe, if thou canst not ouercome thine Anger, she beginneth to ouercome thee; if she be hidden, if we cannot giue her issue, let vs burie the signes thereof, and let vs as much as in vs lyeth keepe it hidden and secret.

CHAP. XIII.

The eighth meanes. Containe thine Anger inward­ly, and shew it not outwardly. THis cannot be done but with great labour; for she desireth to leap out to inflame the eyes, and to change the face: but if she may once shew her selfe without vs, she is aboue vs. Let vs hide her in the lowest retreat of our breasts, and let her there be concealed, but so, as she transport vs not; and which is more, let vs change all her signs, & all her marks to the contrary, let our countenance be more peacea­ble, our voyce more tempered, or pace more setled; let vs by little conforme both the interior and exterior parts. It was a signe of Anger in Socrates when he humbled his voyce and spake sparingly; for at that time it appeared that he re­sisted himselfe. He was therefore both perceiued and reproued by his famili­ars; neyther tooke he in ill part to heare the reproofe of his concealed Anger. Why should he not reioyce because many vnderstood his Anger, no man felt it, but it had beene perceiued, except he had giuen his friends power to chide him, as he himselfe had assumed the authoritie to reproue them. How much more ought we to doe this? Let vs intreat euery one of our deerest friends at that time, especially to vse his most libertie against vs, when we are least able to endure him, neyther let him flatter with our Anger. Against so powerfull an e­uill, and so gratious in our eyes, let vs call for our friends helpe whilst our eyes are opened [...] and we are Masters of our selues.

CHAP. XIIII.

Now by example expr [...]ss [...]th he the e [...]ects of choler. THey that can hardly beare Wine, and that feare the folly and in­solence of drunkennesse, command their seruants to carry them from the place where they solemnize their festiuals. They that haue the experience, that their intemperance hath been the cause of their sickenesse, forbad their seruants to giue them their wills during the time of their infirmitie. It is the best for it to prouide some impedi­ments against knowne vices, and aboue all things so to compose our minds, that although it be shaken by the most grieuous and sudden accidents that may be, it eyther feele not wrath, or to restraine and embase the weight of the iniurie, that hath beene vnaduisedly offered him, without discouering his griefe. That this may be done, it shall appeare manifestly, if out of a great many examples, I shall produce some few, out of which a man may learne both how great euill anger hath in it, when she vseth the power of the most mightiest men, and how much she may command, as soone as she is curbed by a greater feare. Cambyses [Page 563] the King, Herodot. lib. 3. a Prince too much subiect to wine, was admonished by Prexaspes, who was one of his Minions, to drinke lesse, saying, That drunkennesse was a loathsome thing in a King, who was followed by all mens eares and eyes. To this he answered, To the end thou mayest know (said he) that I am neuer out of temper, I will presently ap­proue that after wine both mine handes and eyes can doe their office. Hereupon hee began to drinke more freely then otherwise he was accustomed, and in greater cups, and being thus loaden and drunke with wine, hee commanded his sonne who had reproued, to get without the doore of the Pallace, and laying his left hand on his head, to stand there vprightly; then bent he his Bow, and with the Arrow he shot, diuided he the young mans heart, as he had protested to do, and opening his breast he shewed him the head of the Arrow sticking in his heart, and looking backe vpon the father, he said, Now Sir, is not my hand steddy? who denied that Apollo could haue shot with better leuell. The gods confound him, more slauish in mind then in condition; for praysing such an action wher­unto it was ouermuch for him to be an assistant. He thought he had gotten a good occasion to flatter, when his sonnes breast was diuided into two parts, and the heart as yet panted vnder the wound: he should haue contested for glorie against Cambyses, and challenged him to a second proofe, whether he could as rightly hit the heart of the father, as he had don [...] of his sonne. O cruell King, worthy that all his subiects bowes should be bent against him. When we haue cursed him that ended his banquet [...] with punishments and funerals, we cannot but detest Praxaspes for his vnnatural commendation of the shot [...] as well as Cam­byses for shooting it. We see how the father should haue demeaned himselfe, being vpon the dead bodie of his sonne, and witnesse of the murther whereof he was the cause. That which is now in question appeareth that choler may be suppressed. He cursed not the King, neyther vttered he one word of compassi­on, although his heart were as much wounded as that of his sonnes. It may be said, that he deseruedly deuoured his words, for had he spoken any thing as if he had beene displeased, he could haue done nothing that became a father. It may seeme, saith he, that he behaued himselfe more considerately in that case, then when he reproued Cambyses for his immoderate drinking; and it had been better for him to haue suffered him to drink wine then bloud, who hauing the cup in his hand, and being occupied in drinking, suffered others to liue in peace: he was therefore to be numbred for one of those, who to their great miseries haue made it manifest, how deare good counsailes cost them who are Kings fa­uourites.

CHAP. XV.

I Doubt not but that Harpagus had spoken some such like thing to his Master Astiages King of Persia, The second ex­ample of Astia­ges and Har­pagus. by reason whereof he was so much incensed, that he feasted the olde man with the flesh of his children, and afterwards asked him how [...]ee liked the dressing. Afterwards, as soone as he saw that he was glutted with his owne miseries, he commanded their [...]eads to be brought forth, and asked him, How he liked them? The wretched man wanted no words, he faltred not in his speech, but said, With a King euery supper is pleasant. What profited he by this flatterie? This, that he [...] was not inuited to the relicks of the banquet. I forbid not the fa­ther to condemne the Kings action, I forbid him not to seeke a condigne re­uenge [Page 564] for so horrible an iniurie; but this in the interim will I say, that wrath which ariseth from extreame euils may be hidden, and be constrained to speake wholly contrary to his minde. This restraint of sorrow is necessary for those especially who haunt the Court, and are inuited to Princes Tables. Thus must they eate with them, thus must they drinke, thus must they answere, thus must they smile at their childrens funerals. Let vs consider whether life bee a thing that should be so much set by, although it concerne not this matter. Shall we take pleasure to remaine in so loathsome a prison? Shall wee counsaile our selues to continue vnder the yoake of murtherers? Contrariwise, we will make it knowne, that in all oppressions the way of libertie is laid open to vs. If the minde be infirme and miserable through his owne fault, he may end his miseries in himselfe. I will say both to him that attended the King, who shot his arrows against the hearts of his frinds, and to him whose Master glutted the fathers sto­macke with his childrens bowels. Why mournest thou mad man? Expectest thou that some enemie destroying thy nation, or that some puissant King mar­ching out from a farre, Two [...]toicall and profane resoluti­ons, touch not too neere these rockes, left they [...] sinke thee. shall reuenge that iniurie which is done vnto thee? On what side soeuer thou turnest thy selfe, there is the end of these miseries. Seest thou yonder steepie place? from thence mayest thou descend to thy libertie. Seest thou that Sea? Seest thou that Riuer or that Pit? Libertie sitteth in the bottom therof. Seest thou that short, withered, and fatall tree? Libertie depend­eth thereon. Seest thou thou thy throat, thy we sand-pipe, thy heart? These are the meanes to escape seruitude. Thou shewest mee too dangerous and bu­sie meanes to escape, and such as require a great minde and courage. Enquirest thou which is the way to libertie? Euery veine in thy bodie.

CHAP. XVI.

AS long therefore as there is nothing in our opinion so intollerable that it should expell vs out of life, Of the patience which is req [...]isit in aduersities. let vs remoue Anger from vs in whatsoeuer estate we shall be. Pernicious is she to those that serue; for indignation serueth not but to increase her torment, and the commandements that are giuen her seem to be more grie­uous and troublesome, the more obstinately shee suffereth them: so the wilde beast, the more he struggles in the net, the more is he intangled: so birds, whilst fearefully they shake off the bird-lime, intangle and snare all their feathers. There is none so hard a yoake that so much hurteth him that beares it willing­ly, as him that repineth against it. The onely remedie of the greatest miseries is to suffer them willingly, and to apply himselfe to those necessities which pre­sent themselues. But whereas this continencie is profitable for those that serue, so the bridling of affections, and of this especially which is so furious and vn­bridled, a passion is most necessary for Kings. All things goe to wracke when fortune permitteth as much as Anger perswadeth; neyther can that power continue long which is exercised to many mens miseries: for great men put themselues into maruailous danger, when common feare ioyneth those toge­ther who lament in their particular. Diuers therefore of them haue been slaine by seuerall persons, and sometimes by the whole multitude, when sorrow hath constrained them to ioyne their displeasures in one. But diuers haue so exerci­sed their Anger, as if it had beene a Kingly matter. Amongst these was Darius, he (after he had extinguisht the Empire of the Magies) ouercame the Persians, [Page 565] and a greater part of the East. For hauing denounced warre against the Scythi­ans that dwelt about the countrey, a Noble and auncient Gentleman called Oebasus, besought him that [...]e would leaue one of his children behinde him, to be a comfort to his father, and content himselfe with the seruice of two of them, he promised more then he required at his handes, and that hee would dismisse them all; hereupon he caused them to be slaine, and cast their bodies downe before their fathers eyes, to the end he might not be esteemed cruell, if he had carried them away all three.

CHAP. XVII.

BVt how much more facile was Zerxes, The fourth ex­ample of Zerxes and Pi­thius, Herod and Plutarch. who when Pithius the father of fiue sons, required the dismision of one of them, which soeuer he pleased, gaue him leaue to chuse him whom he best liked, and afterwards when he had made his choyce, diuiding that sonne in­to two pieces, he cast them on eyther side of the way, and by this sacrifice purified his armie? But this Prince was chastised according to his de­merites: for after he had beene ouercome and discomforted on euery side, and behelde the heapes of dead souldiers on euery side, hee marched thorow the midst of their murthered carkasses. Such was the naturall furie of barbarous Kings, ignorant and enemies of good letters [...] whence ensued Anger. But I will bring thee forth Alexander out of Aristotles schoole, who in midst of his festi­uals, and with his owne handes murthered his owne friend Clitus, who had bin brought vp with him, because hee could not flatter, and from a Macedonian and free man would not become a seruile Persian. He likewise exposed Lysima­chus (who was as familiar with him as the other) to the furie of a Lion. But did this Lysimachus (who had so happie fortune to escape the teeth of a Lion) for this cause become more milde, when he obtained a kingdome? no. For hee cut of the nose and eares of Telesphorus the Rhodian, who was his deere friend and afterwards (as if hee had beene some strange beast) kept him closed in a cage, wherein he fed him, being vnable to obserue any thing of a man in him, by reason of the deformitie of his face, of hunger and filth, and his ordure, wherein this poore Creature lay buried; hauing his knees and handes hardned, because the cage was ouer low for him; and would not suffer him to stand, vp­right. Besides by reason of often rubbing himselfe his sides were all flead so that he seemed lothsom and dread [...]ull to all those that beheld him, and being made a Monster by this punishment, he lost also all compassion. Yet when he was most vnlike v [...]to a man, who suffered these thinges, yet was hee more vn­like, who did the same.

CHAP. XVIII.

I Could haue wished that this cruell passion had remained amongst the Barbarians, Other examples taken out of the Roman histories. and had not taken possession of the hearts of vs that are Romanes, with other vices drawne from [...]orraine Coun­tries, and with the furie of diuers new punishments, and meanes of reuenge. Marcus Marius, in whose honour the people had raised Statues in euery streete, to whom with franckinsence and wine the Romanes sacrificed as [Page 566] to a god. By Lucius Sylla [...]s cōmand had his legge broken, his eyes pulled out, and his hands cut off; and as if he had killed him so oft as he wounded him, by little and little, he peece-meale drew euery part of him in peec [...]. Who executed this commandement? Who could it be but Cataline? Who at this time exercised his hands in all hainous stratagems. Hee cut this poore body in peeces before the Tombe of Quintus Catulus, troubling with extreame insolence, the reuerend Ashes of the mildest man of his time, on which Marius a man culpable in ma­nie kindes (yet agreeable to the people and not without cause, although it may be that it was more then reason) shed his bloud drop by drop. Worthy was Marius to endure those things; Sylla to command it, and Cataline to execute it. But vnworthie was the commonweale to receiue into her body at once, the swords both of her enemies and Citizens. Why seeke I out so farre- [...]et exam­ples? Not long since Caius Caesar caused Sextus Papinius, whose father had beene a Consull, and Bollenius Bassus who had beene Thresurer, and the sonne of his procurer, and other Senatours and Romane Knights, to be whipt and tormen­ted in one day, not because they had offended, but for his minde sake. Againe, so impatient was he to differ his content, which his immeasurable crueltie inci­ted him to take without delay, that walking in an Allie of his mothers garden, which seperateth the porch from the riuer banke, hee beheaded some, with di­uers Ladies and Senatours by torch-light; what is that which prouoked him? what danger either publicke or priuate threatned him to execute those per­sons by night? Was it so great a matter to stay till day light? But he would not haue his Pantofles on, when hee caused Romanes and Senatours to bee mur­thered.

CHAP. XIX.

Here continueth he the monster­ous description of Caligula [...] cruelties. HOw proude his crueltie was, it shall bee materiall to examine: al­though some may esteeme that wee wander from th [...] purpose, and containe not our selues in the right path, but this shall bee a prancke of worth enraged aboue ordinarie. He had caused Sena­tours to be whipped: yea, so great was his insolence that it might be said, that it was an ordinarie matter. Hee had subiected them to those tor­ments and so cruell; that might bee possibly inuented, as to traine them and brake them by ropes, to torment them by pressing, by racke, by fire, and by his furious countenance. And in this place, some may answere and say, what a trifling matter is this, if three Senatours were like base slaues whipped and burned, by such a man who daily meditated on the death of the whole Senate, who wished that the Romane people had but one head; to the end that there so many offences committed in so many places and times, might bee punished in one strooke, and at one time? What hath beene lesse heard of then night punishment? Whereas thefts are wont to bee hidden by night: and punish­ments, the more publicke they be, the more profit they for other mens exam­ple and amendment. In this place some will answere me; That which thou so much admirest at, is this beasts daily exercise. Hee liueth for this, he watcheth for this, he studieth for this; Truely there shal no other man be found that had gouernement, ou [...]r these whom [...]e commanded to bee punished, that stopped their mouthes with a spunge, for feare least they should haue libertie to speake. What euery dying man had not this benefit to bemoan [...] himselfe? But hee [Page 565] was afraide, least some extreame paine should make any man vtter his minde boldly; and he feared likewise le [...]t [...] should hear [...] those things which he would not. He knew also that there were many other infinite things, which no man durst obiect against him, except it were such a one that was ready to suffer death. When as spunges were not in readinesse, hee caused the wretches gar­ments to be cut in pieces, and to be thrust into their mouthes [...] what crueltie is this? Let it be lawfull for a man to draw his la [...]t breath; giue place to the Soule that shee may freely depart; Let her bee suffered to haue passage by some o­ther way, then by the wound which the body hath receiued.

CHAP. XX.

IT were too long a matter to adde vnto these, The cause why he made menti­on of Caligu­la [...]s cruel [...]ies. how many of their fathers whom hee had put to death, were murthered the sam [...] night by the hands of Centurions, by the command of this piti­full Prince, who thought good by these meanes, to deliuer the fathers from bewailing their childrens deathes? For my intenti­on is not to discouer Caius crueltie, but the miserie of Anger, which not onely executeth her furie against one man or other, but also spoyleth whole Cities and Nations, and beateth riuers also which are free from all sence of paine. As Cambyses King of Persia, Cambyses br [...] ­tish rage. who cut off the noses of all the people in Syria, by meanes whereof the place was afterwards called Rhinocolura. Thinkest thou that he spared them, because he cut not off their heads? Hee tooke delight in a new kind of punishment. Such like should the AEthiopians haue suffered, who by reason of their long life, are called Macrobij. For against these, because they entertained not willingly the subiection that was offered them, but gaue free answeres to those Ambassadours that were sent vnto them [...] which Kings call contumelious. Cambyses was mad at them, and without prouision of pro­uant and victuals, without discouerie of the Countrie, by vnhaunted and san­die wayes, heled all his troopes that were [...]it for the warre, which after the first dayes march wanted victuals, neither did the barraine and vnmanured Coun­trie, vntracted by any foote, minister them any thing. First satisfied they their hunger with the tender leaues and tops of trees, then by leather molified by [...]ire, and whatsoeuer necessitie had made meate. But when as amidst the sands both rootes and herbes failed them, and the desert was found voide of all liuing creatures, they killed euery tenth man, and thereby had sustenance more dreadfull then famine; yet notwithstanding, all this Anger caried the King on headlong. Hauing lost one part of his Armie, and eaten another, vn­till such time as he feared least amongst others that were called, the lot should fall on himselfe, then at length sounded hee a retreate. In the meane space, the best fowle was kept for his vse, and the instruments of his banquets were cari­ed vpon Cammels, whilest his Souldiers cast lots which of them should die mi­serable, and which of them should liue worse.

CHAP. XXI.

THis man was angrie with a Nation vnknowne vnto him, and inno­cent of themselues, yet such as had he prospered should haue ta­sted of his furie. But Cyrus was angrie with a Riuer: For marching on diligently to the warre, the greatest moment whereof consi­steth in taking oportunities and intending to surprise Babilon, hee attempted to passe ouer the huge Riuer of Gynde, which was scarcely passable in the height of Sommer, and when the water is at the lowest. There one of those white horses which were wont to draw his Kingly Chariot, was carried away violently by the streame, whereat the King was mightily mooued; and swore that he would bring that Riuer which had carried away his Princely baggage to that passe that euen verie women should bee able to get oner it without wet­ting their shooes. Which said, he imployed all his forces herein, and continued so long that hauing digged nine score chanels to turne the Riuer, he afterwards reduced it into three hundreth and sixtie armes or brookes, so that that great channel became drie, the waters being dreined by so many other wayes. Thus spent [...]e the time which is an irreuocable losse in a [...]faires of consequence, thus abated he his Souldiers courage, who were broken by vnprofitable labours, and had lost their occasion and preparation for the assault, whilst he hauing procla­med warre against his enemies, grew at ods with a Riuer.

He returneth to Caligula by his example to make Anger o­dious, and to in­kindle others t [...] mercy, he shew­eth the mide be­hauiour of An­tigenus. CHAP. XXII.

THis furie (for what else canst thou name it?) seazed the Romans likewise. For Caius Caesar ouerthrew a faire house of pleasure which was builded for pleasure neere to Ponzol, because some­times his mother had beene kept prisoner in it, and made the fortu [...]e thereof notable hereby. For when it stood: the pas­sengers that [...]a [...]led by, enquired what it was, and now they dema [...]nd why it is ruined. And as well oughtest thou to thinke on these examples, to the end to auoide them, as on those on the contrarie part which thou art to follow, which are both moderate and gentle; who neither wanted cause to bee angrie, nor power to reuenge themselues. For what was more easie and facile for Antigo­nus? then to command two of his Souldiers to be put to death, who lea [...]ing vpon the Royall tent, did that which men doe most dangerously and willingly that thinke euill of their Prince. Antigonus heard all that they speake, because betwixt them that talked, and him that heard there was but a Tapestrie, which he softly pulled aside, and said Get somewhat farther of for feare [...] least the King heare you. The same Prince vpon a certaine night, when hee had heard certaine of his Souldiers detesting and cursing him diuers wayes, who had led them into that journie and durtie march, came vnto them that were most displeased, and whereas they knew not by whom they were helped, he satisfied them, and said: Now curse ANTIGONVS by whose fault you were drawne into these miseries, but wish him well, notwithstanding who brough [...] you out of this bog. The same as pa­tiently endured the reproches of his enemies, as of his Citizens. When as therfore the Graecians were besieged in a small Castle, and contemning the ene­mie [Page 569] by reason of the place jested vpon Antigonus deformitie, and sometimes derided his low stature, otherwhiles his hooked nose. I am glad said he, and, con­ceiue some good hope if I haue SILENVS in my Campe. This was Bac­chus companion and the eldest amongst the Sa­tires. After hee had ouercome these brabl [...]rs by famine, he vsed the captiues in such sort, that he placed those that were fit for warre amongst his owne companies and the rest he sold by the Crier, and this he said, he would not haue done vnlesse it had beene exped [...]ent for them to haue a Gouernour who had so bad tongues. His Nephew was A­lexander, who darted his Iauelin against his table-guests, who of these two friends which he had, as I told you a litle before, made the one a pray to a Lion, the other to himself. But of both these, he that was deliuered to the Lion liued.

CHAP. XXIII.

HEe had not this vice eyther from his grandfather or his father: The second ex­ample of great mildenesse and mercie. for if there were any other vertue in Philip it was this, that he was patient in all reproaches, which is a mightie instrument for the safetie of a Kingdome. Demochares, who for the libertie and pe­tulancie of his tongue was called Parrhesiastes, came vnto him a­mongst other Athenian Embassadours, and hauing courteously giuen audience to their Embassage, Philip said, Tell me if I may doe any thing that shall be gratefull to the Athenians. DEMOCHARES vndertoke the answer, and said, G [...]e and hang thy selfe. They that stood about him were displeased at so vnhumane an an­swer, whom Philip commanded to be silent, willing them to dismisse that Thersi­tes safe and sound. But you (saith he) the rest of the Embassadors, tell the Athenians that they are more proude that speake thus, then they that heare them spoken without re­uenge. AVGVSTVS CAESAR spake, and did many things that were worthy memorie, whereby it appeareth that he was Master of his owne Anger. Timo­gines the writer of Histories had spoken somwhat against himselfe, somewhat a­gainst his whole family; neither lost he that which he had spoken, for an auda­cious kind of jesting is the soonest entertained and divulged by euery man. Cae­sar oft-times gaue him warning hereof, and wished him to vse his tongue more moderately, and seeing that he perseuered, he forbad him his house. After that Timagines liued till he was very olde, in Asinius Pollio's house, beloued of the whole Cittie, notwithstanding Caesars repulse, euery mans doores was open to him. Afterwards he recited and burned those Histories which he had written, and cast those bookes into the fire which contained the acts of Augustus Caesar: and thus waged he warre with Caesar. No man for all this refused his friendship, no man fled from him, as though he were blasted: there was alwayes that gaue him entertainment in the height of his disgraces. All these, as I said, Caesar en­dured patiently, neyther was he moued therewith, notwithstanding that Tima­gines had violated both his praises and actions. He neuer was displeased with him that entertained his enemie, this onely said he to POLLIO, Thou nourishest a beast; and when he addressed himselfe to giue him an answere, the Emperour preuented him, and said, He is at thy command POLLIO, much good do it thee with him. And when as Pollio said, If thou commandest me CAESAR, I will presently for­bid him my house. What said he, thinkest thou? I will doe this, who haue reconciled both of you and made you friends? For Pollio in times past had beene angrie with Tima­gines; neyther had he any other cause of dislike towards him, but because Caesar had entertained him.

CHAP. XXIIII.

What profite a man should take of the precedent examples, and what considera­tions besides th [...] we ought to an­nex, the better to refrain Anger LEt euery man therefore say vnto himselfe as often as he is prouo­ked, Am I more powerfull then Philip? yet he patiently suffered disgraces without reuenging them. Can I doe more in my pri­uate house then Diuus Caesar thorow the whole world? yet was he content to locke vp his gates against him that had slandered him. Or why should I for a bolde and jesting answer, a proude looke, or the grumb­ling and vntowardnesse of my slaue, expiate his fault with whips and fetters? Who am I that no man dare offend mine eares? Many haue pardoned their e­nemies, shall not I pardon such as are sluggish, negligent, and branglers? Let age excuse a childe, her sex a woman, libertie a stranger, familiaritie a domestick. He offended me but euen now. Let vs bethinke our selues how often he hath contented vs; But oft-times hath he offended otherwise? Let vs endure that which we haue suffered long. He was my friend: he did that which he preten­ded not. Is he an enemie? He did that which he ought to doe. Shall we endure a wise-man? let vs pardon a foole. Whatsoeuer befalleth vs, let vs say vnto our selues, that the wisest commit many errours, and that no man is so circumspect whom Anger doth not sometimes take tardie: none so mature and stayed, ey­ther in his wordes or actions, whose grauity may by fortune be drawne into some inconsiderate action: no man so fearefull to offend, that whilst he flyeth from offences, falleth not into them.

CHAP. XXV.

A continuation of the profits we gather by the precedent consi­deration. EVen as a poore man taketh comfort in his miserie, when he seeth other great mens fortune stagger, and with a more temperate minde hath bewayled his sonnes death in a corner of his cham­ber, who seeth the wofull funerals of the heire of a Kingdome solemnized and borne forth; so with a more peaceable and con­tented minde shall he endure to be harmed and contemned by another man, whosoeuer bethinketh himselfe that there is no Potentate so great, who is not, or may not be attempted with iniurie. And if the most wisest doe offend, let vs thin [...]e with our selues that there is no fault which is not excusable. Let vs con­sider how oftentimes our yong yeares haue beene scarce diligent in performing dueties, immoderate in speech, scarce temperate in wine: if he be angry, let vs giue him tim [...] wherein he may consider what he hath done, and hee himselfe will reproue himselfe; in conclusion, hee will punish himselfe, yet for all this must not we be angrie. This is vndoubtedly true, that he hath exempted him­selfe from common men, and raised himselfe to a higher degree, that despiseth such as prouoke him. For it is the propertie of true magnitude, not to feele that he is strooken. So hath a furious beast, stalking a long with a setled pace looked backe on those Dogs that barked at him. So doe the enraged billowes of the Sea insult in vaine against an immoueable rocke. He that is not angry hath neuer beene shaken by iniurie, he that is angrie is moued: but he whom for the present I haue mounted aboue all incommoditie, with a certaine embrace en­tertaineth the chiefest good, being equall not onely to himselfe, but also to for­tune. Whatsoeuer thou doest, thou art not great enough to obscure the bright­nesse [Page 571] that enlightneth me. Reason to whom I haue assigned the conduct of my life, defendeth the same. The Anger will hurt me more then the offence; and why? Because there is a certaine measure in the offence, but I know not how farre mine Anger will transport me.

CHAP. XXVI.

BVt, A pertinent an­swer to those that alledge that they can endure n [...]thing, for by this meanes they depriue them­selues of that excellent happi­nesse which cour­tesie produceth. sayest thou, I can endure nothing, it is a grieuous matter to me to sustaine an iniurie. Thou liest: for who cannot endure iniury that can suffer Anger? Furthermore, thou pretendest to charge thy selfe with iniury and Anger both at once. Why sufferest thou the cries of a sicke man, the strange speeches of a lunatick, and the stroakes of thy little children? Forsooth because they seeme to be ignorant of what they doe. What skilleth it by what errour any man becommeth impru­dent, since imprudence is an equall excuse for all those that are attainted there­with? What then, sayest thou, shall he remain vnpunished? Thinke that thou wouldest, yet it shall not be so: for the greatest chastisement that a man may re­ceiue who hath outraged another, is, to haue done the outrage, and there is no man that is so rudely punished, as he that is subiect to the whip of his owne re­pentance. Moreouer, it behooueth vs to regard and consider the condition of humane affaires, to the end we may be vpright Iudges of all accidents. But he is vniust who vpbraideth a priuate man with that imperfection which is com­mon to all. If a man be blacke amongst the Moores, or hath a redde head, and curled after the manner of the Almaines; this is no dishonour to him, but be­commeth him well. That which is common to a whole nation, defameth not a particular: but those things that I haue set downe before, depend but on the custome of one countrey, which is but a little corner of the earth. Consider therefore whether it be not an easier matter to excuse it, which is the practise of the whole world. We are all of vs inconsiderate and improuident, all of vs vncertaine, irresolute, and ambitious. But why hide I a publique vlcer vnder milder wordes? We are all of vs noughts. Whatsoeuer therefore is reprehen­ded in another, that shall euery man finde within his owne bosome. Why ob­seruest thou his bleakenesse of colour, his leanenesse of bodie? It is a common plague. Let vs therefore be more temperate one towards another, we liue euill men amongst euill men: there is one thing onely that can make vs quiet; a mu­tuall facilitie in conuersation. This man hath now iniured me, but as yet I haue not harmed him; yet now perhaps hast thou hurt some bodie, or at leastwise thou wilt hurt.

CHAP. XXVII.

EStimate not this houre or this day, How much the consideration of our weakenesse heartneth against Anger, which is the ninth means to refraine it. looke into the whole habite of thy minde, if as yet thou hast done no euill, yet canst thou doe it. How farre better is it that an iniurie should be salued then reuen­ged? Reuenge consumeth much time, exposeth her selfe to many iniuries whilst she is stung with one. Wee are all of vs more long time angrie then we are hurt; how farre better is it to take another course, and not in this sort to sort vices together? Should a man be thought well in his wits [Page 572] if he should kicke at a Moyle with his heeles that had strooken him, or teare a Dogge with his teeth that had bitten him? These, sayest thou, know not that they offend. First of all, how vniust is he who is displeased when men come vnto him to reconcile themselues? Againe, if it restraine thee from being an­grie with beasts, because they are destitute of reason; in the same ranke num­ber him that doth something without iudgement: for what skilleth it if he re­semble not beasts in any other thing, in the fault which excuseth beasts, hee sheweth himselfe as brutish as they be? He hath offended; for this is the first and this is the last. Thou hast no cause to beleeue him, although he saith, I will not doe it againe. Thou shalt see that he will once more offend thee, and ano­ther him, and the whole course of life shall be trauailed with errours: we must handle sauage things courteously. That which is wont to be said in sorrow, may effectually be spoken likewise in Anger. Whether wilt thou giue ouer once or neuer? If once, it is better to leaue off Anger, then to be left by Anger: but if this fault shall alwayes continue, thou seest how vnquiet a life thou de­nouncest to thy selfe, as it befalleth him who is alwayes swolne vp, and incensed by wrath.

CHAP. XXVIII.

The tenth means, not to seeke any occasi­ [...] of displeasure. FVrthermore, if thou thy selfe seeke not the occasions and meanes to prouoke thine Anger, and if thou enkindlest not thy displea­sure, thou shalt see it depart from thee of her owne motion, and time will weaken it daily. How farre better is it for thee that thou shouldest surmount her, then that she should be Mistresse of thee? Thou art angry now with this man, now with that man, now with thy slaues, anon after with thy francklins, now with thy father or mother, now with thy children, with those of thine acquaintance, then with such as thou hast but newly met withall: for the occasions present themselues in euery place, except a peaceable minde containe and gouerne vs. Furie will driue thee hither and thither, and as new prouocations shall arise, thy rage shall be continued. Goe to vnhappy man and when is it that thou wilt loue? O how good time loosest thou in so bad a thing? How farre better were it now to get thee friends, and to mittigate thine enemies, to gouerne the Common weale, to transfer thy in­deuours to the gouernement of thy familie, then to looke about thee what in­iurie thou mayest doe another man. What wound thou mayest inflict eyther on his dignitie, or his patrimony, or his body? When as this cannot befall thee without contention and danger, although thou encounter with thine inferiour. Although thou see him tyed hand and foote, and that he be in thy power to do with him whatsoeuer thou pleasest, oftentimes it hath beene seene that a man in striking another with all his force, hath put his shoulder out of ioynt, or his arme, or hand, or else in biting hath broken his teeth, and spoyled his gummes. Anger hath made many men lame, and hath weakened many; yea, euen then when she hath gotten matter of patience. Adde hereunto, that there is not any thing so feeble in this world, The eleuenth consideration, is, t [...]at we hurt our [...]ues more th [...]n [...] doe our ene­mies. that perishes without putting him in danger that would crush or breake it. Sometimes griefe, and sometimes casualty hath mat­ched the strongest with the weakest. And which is more, the most part of those things which moue vs, doe harme vs more then we hurt other men. But there is a great difference whether a man oppose himselfe against my pleasure, [Page 573] or whether he hinder it not, whether he take it from me, or giue it me not. But we account it all one whether a man take from vs any thing or denie vs; whe­ther he cut of our hopes, or differ them: whether hee be against vs, or for him selfe; whether for the loue of another man, or the hatred he beareth vs: But some haue not only just, but also honest causes to stand against vs. The one de­fendeth his [...]ather, the other his brother, another his vncle, the third his friend. Yet pardon we not those that doe these thinges, which should they not doe; we would condemne them: nay more which is incredible, oftimes we allow of the deed, but condemne the doer.

CHAP. XXIX

BVT yet assuredly euery great and just man affectioneth and wel respecteth him amongst his enemies; The twelf [...], be­ware to con [...]oūd t [...]y iudgment and hate not him whom thou praisest, and least of all him whose miserie requireth thine assistance. that most valiantly and aduenturously behaueth himselfe, for the libertie and conser­uation of his Countrie, and wisheth himselfe such a Citizen and such a Camerado as that is in his dangers. It is a shamefull thing to hate him whom thou praysest [...] but how farre more shamefull to hate any man, for that for which he is worthie of mercie: if any one being taken priso­soner, retaineth as yet some remanders of his libertie, and sheweth not himselfe so readie in base and troublesome businesses, if hauing thorow idlenesse gathe­red so much fat, that he cannot come so swiftly as his Masters horse or coach: if wearied with all dayes trauaile he sleepe; if he refuseth to labour in the fieldes or doth not bestow himselfe so, as a stout pesant should doe; by reason hee had liued in a Citie, where he had much ease, and that now he is tyed to a businesse that is tedious and continual, let vs consider whether he cannot doe that which we would require at his hands, or if he will not doe it: wee shall beare with di­uers men; if wee indeuour our selues to judge before we be displeased. But now we beleeue that which the first assault of our passion buzzeth in our [...]ares; after­wardes although wee b [...]e mooued vpon no ground: yet pers [...]uer we least wee should seeme to haue begunne without any cause, and that which is most dam­nable, the iniquitie of wrath maketh vs more obstinate. For wee nourish and increase the same as if it were an argument of just Anger, to bee grieuously an­grie. How farre better is it to examine the beginnings, and to consider how harmelesse? That which thou seest fall out in bruit beasts, the same shalt thou discouer in man, we are troubled with friuolous and vaine things.

CHAP. XXX.

A Red colour exasperateth Bulles, The thirteenth, Except thou wilt become a beast be not moued at [...]riuolous and vaine matte [...]s as they are accu­stomed to doe that are ouer­taken by Anger. the Aspe is inkindled in the sha­dow, a white Cloath prouoketh Beares and Lions. All thinges that nature hath made fierce and dreadfull are astonished at a little matter. The same befalleth disquiet and foolish mindes. They are strooken with suspition of thinges, and in such sort as some times they call moderate benefits injuries, in which the most frequent, but the most, yet truly the most vrgent causes of choler consist. For we are angrie with our dearest friends, because they haue done vs lesse courtesie then we expected, then [Page 574] other men haue done vs; when as there is a present and readie remedie for them both. Hath he fauoured another man more? let vs delight our selues with ours without comparison: he shall neuer be happie, that tormenteth himselfe at an other mans felicitie. I haue lesse then I hoped for? But happily I haue hoped more then I ought. This part is most of all to be feared. Hence arise most dan­gerous displeasures, and such as inuade the most holiest and blessedest thinges of the World. Iulius Caesar was killed by a greater number of his friends, then of his enemies: whose immeasurable hopes he had not satisfied. Such was his in­tention, neither euer was there any man that carried himselfe more better, or more liberally, when hee became Master of his enemies, for hee challenged no­thing to himselfe, but the power to distribute; but here could he satisfie so many importunate desires, when as all men desired so much as one man could? Hee saw therefore with naked daggers, those followers of his about his throne; and amongst the rest Tullius Cimber, who before time had beene an affectionate par­taker of his, and those other, who after the death of Pompey were become Pom­peians.

CHAP. XXXI.

The fourtenth Haue m [...]re re­spect to another m [...]ns good then to th [...]ne owne and neuer thinke that tho [...] hast obtained to litle. THis verie passion hath raysed the subjects against their Prince, and vrged the most faithfull to conspire the death of those, for whom and in whose presence, they had desired in times past to loose their liues. He that hath respect to another mans good, neg­lecteth his owne. And thereupon wee are angrie with the gods likewise, because some one man out-strippeth vs, forgetting our selues how much and how important enuie followeth them at their backes, yet so great is the importunitie of men, that although they haue receiued much, yet suppose themselues to be indignified, because in their iudgement [...] they are capable of more. Gaue he me a Praetor-ship? but I looked for a Consul-ship. Gau [...] they me twelue Maces? yet they made mee not an ordinarie Consull. Would hee haue me to vndertake the charge of numbring the yeare? but he failed mee in the election, when I sought for the Pontificiall dignitie. Haue I beene brought into the Colledge of Bishops and Augures? but why in companie? Hath hee consumated my dignitie? but he hath allowed nothing towardes my charge and patrimonie: Hee gaue mee that which he ought to haue giuen to an other, he added nothing of his owne. Rather giue thankes for those thinges which thou hast receiued, exspect the rest, and rejoyce, because that as yet thou art not full. Amongst all other pleasures, it is no small one, to see that there is somewhat remayning, for which thou maist hope. Hast thou sped better then any other? rejoyce, because thou art the first amongst others that hath thy friendes heart. Doe many exceede thee? consider that the number of those that march after thee, surpasseth those whom thou followest.

CHAP. XXXII.

ASkest thou me what is the greatest vice in thee? The fi [...]thteenth, to disg [...]st t [...]y wra [...]h a li [...]le & take leas [...]ue to consider what command [...]ment the passion hath ouer [...]h [...]e, and whereupon it is founded. thou forgest false considerations, thou highly prizest thine owne gi [...]tes, and neg­lectest others. Let one thing deter vs in an other. Let vs bee afraid to be angrie with some for reuerence sake, let vs forbeare other, and for pittie sake endure other some. Vndoubtedly we shall performe a goodly peece of worke, if we shut our vnhappie slaue in prison. Why are we so ha [...]tie to beat him: and so sudden to breake his legges? this power will not be lost, if it bee deferred. Let that time come wherein wee may be Masters of our selues. Now speake wee out of passion: when shee is quailed, then shall wee see how weightie this debate is. For in this especially are wee deceiued. Wee come to knifes, to capitall punishments: and by bonds, imprisonment, and fa­mine, we reuenge the crime which should be chastised by whipping and sligh­ter punishments. How (saist thou) commandest thou vs to consider, how all those things, whereby we seeme to be harmed, are trifling, miserable, and chil­dish? But I for mine own part would perswade nothing more then to take vpon vs a great minde, and to examie and see how these things for which we quarrell runne and sweat, after how humble and abject they bee, and such as are not to bee respected and thought vpon by any man, that thinketh on any high or magnificent matter. There is much brabling about monie, shee wearieth the Courts of Pleas, shee sets the fathers and children together by the eares, shee mixeth venomes, she deliuereth swords as well into the hands of the executio­ner, as of the souldier, she it is that is embrewed with our bloud. For her are the marriage beds of man and wife filled with brawles, for her the Tribunals of Majestrates are ouer-pressed with throng [...] Kings are inraged and ransack coun­tries, and ouerthrow Cities, which were builded by the labour of ma [...]y [...]ges, to the end that Golde and Siluer might bee sought out in the ashes of the Citie.

CHAP. XXXIII.

IT pleaseth me to behold those caskets of monie that lie heaped in a corner. The sixteenth, That all our goods are not worth halfe the labour we imploy vpon them and the busie care to enioy them is a wretchles misery. These are they for which men weepe out their eyes, for which the iudgement [...] Hals are confused with mutte­ring, for which Iudges being nominated out of remote Coun­tries sit in iudgment to sentence whether of both parties a [...]arice is most just. What if it bee not for a bag or casket of moni [...], but for a handfull of siluer, or for a pennie borrowed or lent to a mans slaue, an old man without hei [...]es and readie to die, is readie to burst with Anger [...] what if for lesse then the thousand part of a mans interest, a sickly Vsurer with crooked limmes and lame hands only left him to number his monie, crieth out and in the very violence of his accessions, cryeth out for monie to his suerties [...] If thou bring me forth whatsoeuer mony that is curran [...] and vsuall in all kind of mettals, if thou cast before me whatsoeuer treasure, which auarice would burie againe [...] after she had digged it vp, I thinke that all this heape is not worthie to furrow vp the brow of a good man. How much are they to be laughed at, for which wee spend so many teares?

CHAP. XXXIIII.

PRosecute the rest somewhat further I pray thee, and consider the eating and drinking, and all that proud equipage that depen­deth there vpon, so many labours to keepe the house cleane, so many stroakes giuen, so many outragious speeches, and so many vnseemely countenances, suspitions restie Iades, Idle slaues, wic­ked reporters of other mens words: for from all these it commeth that in the end some thinke that nature hath done men wrong, in giuing them the facultie of speaking. Beleeue mee wee are bitterly angrie for such slight things, and for which children are wont to be froward, and to scrath one another. There is nothing serious or great in all that which we doe with so much care & thought. Thence groweth your Choler & Furie because you esteeme these things great which are nothing. Such a one would haue taken away my goodes, that man hauing long time had a good opinion of me, hath finally defamed me, this man would haue corupted my minion. That which should bee the linke of lou [...] which is to will one thing, is the cause of hatred and sedition.

CHAP. XXXV.

A more exact de­scription of this n [...]ti [...] of w [...]ath which is tormen­ted at trifles and things of no mo­ment. THE way that is straight moueth quarrell amongst those that passe thorow it. That which is open and large is ouer narrow for Ar­mies that encounter together. These thinges which you desire because they are small, neither can be transferred to one except they be taken from an other doe incite quarrels and troubles a­mongst those that affect the same things. Thou art angrie if thy frackling or thy wife or thy retainer answer thee, & afterwards thou cōplainest that the cōmon-wealth hath lost all libertie, which thou thy selfe hast exterminated out of thine own house. Again if thou speak vnto thy seruant, and he answere thee not thou termest it disdaine and rebell [...]on. Thou wilt haue him speake, thou wilt haue him hold his peace, thou wilt haue him laugh, what before his Master saiest thou I before the Father of the family. Why criest thou? why chidest thou? what moueth thee in the midst of thy supper to cal for scourges; because thy seruants talke or because thy attendants are not seruiceble, or because no man answers thee? Hast thou no eares but to heare Musicke, and pleasing songs and wordes well fitted and pleasing? yet must thou heare men laugh, crie, flatter, pl [...]d, tell joyfull and tragicall newes, and mens tongues and the cries of diuers Cre [...]tures. Poore man why art thou affrighted at thy seruant [...] crie, at the [...]inging of a Ba­son, at the noice of a dore that is opened and locked? although thou bee so de­licate, yet must thou heare the cracke of thunder. That which is spoken of the [...]ares, may be transferred to the eyes, which are no le [...]e troubled with objects when they are badly addressed: for they are offended at a [...]pot, or soyle, or siluer plate badly clensed and their tinne platters; if they shine not at the sunne. For these eyes that are delighted with nothing but Marble and Iasper finely poli­shed, that like no table except it be of costly wood, and well carued, which will not fix themselues in the house, except on these things that are g [...]ilded and em­bossed; without dores with content enough, behold the rugged and durtie waies [Page 577] and the most part of those that meet with them badly clothed, and the walles of Cities halfe [...]aten away, ruined and vnequall.

CHAP. XXXVI.

WHat is the cause then why that which offendeth them not a­broad, The eighteenth, Giue ouer to corrupt thy senc [...]s and call thy minde euery day to a reckoning. chafeth and troubleth them thus in their houses, but an equitable and patient opinion in publicke, but a crabbish and quarrelsome disposition at home? All our sences are to bee brought to a conformitie. By nature we are patient, if our mind cease to corrupt them, which is daily to be drawne vnto an accompt. This did Sextius, that when the day was spent and he retired himselfe to rest, was wont to examine his minde after this maner. What in [...]irmitie in thee hast thou hea­led this day. What vice hast thou resisted? In what part art thou bettered? An­ger will cease and become more moderate, if she knowes that euerie day shee must appeare before a Iudge. What therefore is more laudable then this cu­stome, to examine our daily actions? What sleepe followeth after this scrute­nie? how quiet, pleasing, and free is it, when either the minde is praysed or ad­monished, and being a watch-man and secret censor of himselfe, examineth his defects? I vse this power, and daily pleade before my selfe, when the candle is taken from me, and my wife holdeth her tongue, being priuie to my custome. I examine the whole day that is past, and ruminate vpon actions and wordes. I hide nothing from my selfe, I let slip nothing: For why should I [...]eare any of mine errours, when as I may say: See thou doe this no more: for this time, I par­don thee. In that dispute, thou speakest more rashly, see that hereafter thou contend not with such as are ignorant, they wil neuer learne, that neuer learned. Thou hast more freely admonished such a one then thou oughtest, and there­fore thou hast not amended him but offended him. In regard of the rest, see not only whether it were true which thou spakest, or whether hee to whom it was spoken can endure to heare truth.

CHAP. XXXVII.

A Good man reioyceth when he is admonished, The nineteenth, That it is vnpos­ble to continue in life except thou re [...]raine [...]holer. a wicked man can­not brooke a reproouer. At a banquet some mens bitter jests and intemperate words haue touched thee to the quicke? Remember to auoyde the vulgar companie: after Wine mens words are too lauish, and they that are most sober in their discourses are scarce modest. Thou sawest thy friends displeased with the Porter of a Counsailers chamber, or some rich man because hee would not suffer him to enter, and thou thy selfe being angry for this cause growest in Choler with the cullion. Wilt thou therefore be angrie with a chained dogge, who when he hath barked much will bee pacified with a peece of bread? get farther off him [...] and laugh. He that keepeth his Masters doore, and seeth the threshold besieged by a troop of soliciters, thinketh himselfe no small bug, and he that is the Client thinketh himselfe happie in his owne opinion, and beleeueth that so hard an accesse into the chamber is an euident testimonie [...] that the Master of the same is a man of [Page 578] great qualitie and a fauourite of Fortune. But hee remembreth not himselfe that the entrie of a Prison is as difficult likewise. Presume with thy selfe, that thou art to indure much. If a man bee cold in Winter; if hee vomit at Sea, if hee bee shaken in a Coach, shall hee maruell hereat? The mind [...] is strong and may indure all that whereunto hee is repared. If thou hast beene seated in a place scarce answerable to thine honour, thou hast beene angrie with him that stood next thee, or with him that inuited thee, or with him that was preferred before thee, Foole as thou art, what matter is it, in what place thou art set at the table, a cushion cannot make thee more or lesse honest. Thou wert displea­sed to see such a one, because hee spake euill of thy behauiour. Art thou at that point? by this reckoning then En [...]ius in whose poetrie thou art no wayes delighted, should hate thee, and Hortensius should denounce warre a­gainst thee, and Cicero if thou shouldest mocke his verses, should be at ods with thee.

CHAP. XXXVIII.

The twentieth and last to take profit by the ex­amples of pa­tience and m [...]k­nesse. WHen thou suest for an office doest thou not peaceably entertaine those that giue their voyces to the election, although they no­minate not thy selfe? Some man hath disgraced thee? what more then Diogenes the Stoicke was, who discoursing one day very ef­fectually vpon the subject of Anger, was scornfully spit vpon by a froward yongman; this injurie entertained he both mildly and wisely. Truly (saith he) I am not Angrie, yet doubt I whether, I ought to be angrie. But our friend Cato demeaned himselfe better, whom as he pleaded a cause; Lentulus that fa­ctious and seditious fellow in the time of our fore-fathers, hawking vp from the depth of his stomacke a thicke and filthie spittle, blew it right into the midst of his for-head. For in wiping his face he said no other thing but this. Truely LENTVLVS I will now maintaine it against all men that, they are deceiued, who say thou hast no mouth.

CHAP. XXXIX.

NOW my Nouatus we are alreadie instructed how to gouerne our mindes, if either they feele not wrath, or bee superiours ouer it. Let vs now see how we may temper other mens Ire, for not on­ly desire we to be healthfull our selues, but to heale others. We dare not attempt to moderate and pacifie the first anger by per­swasion: [...]or [...]he is deafe and mad: We wil giue her some time; remedies are best in the declination of fauours, neither will we attempt her when she is inflamed, and in furie, for feare least in striuing to quench, wee inkindle the same; the like will we doe in respect of other passions. Repose healeth the beginning of sick­nesses. How much (saist thou) doth thy remedie profit, if it pacifie, Anger when of her selfe, she beginneth to be pleased? First it is the cause that it cea­seth the sooner, then will it keepe her least she fall againe, and shall receiue the passion it selfe which he dare not pacifie it. It shal remoue all instruments of re­uenge, [Page 579] it shall faine displeasure, to the end that as a helper and companion in her sorrow, it may haue more authoritie to counsaile her, it shall coyne delayes, and whilst she seeketh greater punishments, deferre the present. It shall by all means giue rest and remission to furie, if she be more vehement it shall eyther induce shame or feare in her, against which she shall not be able to resist; if she be weake it shall inuent discourses, eyther gratefull or new, and winde her away with a desire of knowledge. It is reported that a Phisitian when he had a Kings daughter in cure, and could not performe the same without the meanes of a launcet, that whilst he gently handled her Pap that was greatly swolne, he con­uayed his launcet into a spunge, and so opened it. The mayden had repined should he haue ministred the remedie openly, and shee because she suspected it not, suffered the paine.

CHAP. XL.

SOme things are not healed except they be deceiued. To one of these thou shalt say, How by words well applyed, or by authority we may haue ouer men, wrath may be pacified. Beware lest thy wrath be pleasing to thine enemie. To another, Take heed lest the greatnesse of thy minde, and thy reputed courage in all mens iudgement he brought in question. Truely I am displeased with him, and that beyond measure, yet must we stay our time, and we will be reuenged. Conceale thy dis­pleasure a while whilst thon mayest, and we will pay him home double. But to checke him that is angrie, and to oppose thy selfe against him, is to cast oyle on the fire. Thou shalt attempt him diuers wayes, and after a friendly man­ner, except happily it be so great a person, that thou mayest diminish his wrath, as Augustus Caesar did when he supped with Vedius Pollio; one of the seruants had broken a crystall glasse, whom Vedius commanded to be carried away, and to be p [...]nished by no ordinary death: for he commanded him to be thrown a­mongst his Lampries, which were in kept a great Fish-pond. Who could other­wise thinke but that he did it to entertaine his excessiue pleasures? The boy escaped out of their hands, and fled to Caesars feet, desiring nothing else but that he might die otherwise, and not be made meate for Fishes. Caesar was moued with the noueltie of the crueltie, and commanded him to be carried away, yet willed that all the crystall vessels should be broken in his presence, and that the Fish-pond should be filled vp. So thought Caesar good to chastice his friend, and well did he vse his power. Commandest thou me to be dragged from the ban­quet, and to be tortured by new kinds of pnnishment? If thy cup be broken shal mens bowels be rent in pieces? Wilt thou please thy selfe so much as to com­mand any man to death where Caesar is present?

CHAP. XLI.

THus ought we to oppose our selues against a powerfull person, to the end that from a more eminent place a man may assaile a wrath that is intractable, Now addresseth he himselfe to exhortation, per­swading vs [...]o a­uoyde [...]urie. and such a one as this whereof I lately tolde you, fierce, cruell, bloudie, which could not now receiue a­ny cure, but by the feare of a thing more greater then it selfe. Let vs giue repose vnto our mindes, which we shall doe if we dilate continually [Page 580] vpon the precepts of wisedome, and the acts of vertue, and likewise whilst our thoughts desire nothing but that which is honest. Let vs satisfie our conscience, let vs doe nothing for vaine glorie sake, let thy fortune be euill, so thine actions be good. But the world admireth those that attempt mightie matters, and au­dacious men, are reputed honourable, and peaceable are esteemed sluggards. It may be vpon the first sight, but as soone as a well-gouerned life sheweth that it proceedeth not from the weakenesse, but the moderation of the mind, the peo­ple regard and reuerence them. So then this cruell and bloudie passion is not profitable in any sort; but contrariwise, all euils, fire, and bloud feede her, shee treadeth all modestie vnder foote, embrueth her hands with infinite murthers; she it is that teareth children in sunder, and scattereth their limmes here and there; she hath left no place voyde of hainous villeynies, neither respecting glo­rie nor fearing infamie; incurable, when of wrath she is hardned and conuerted into hatred.

CHAP. XLII.

The continuatiō of those pe [...]swa­tions which are easi [...] to be pra­ctised, especially if we consider the sh [...]rt [...]es and in­c [...]rtainty of our liues. LEt vs abstaine wholy from this vice, let vs purge our mind and pull vp those passions that are rooted in it, whose hold-fast be it neuer so little, will spring againe wheresoeuer it is fastened; and let vs not onely moderate our Anger, but wholly root it out, and driue it from vs. For what temper is there in an euill thing? But wee may, if so be we will endeuour; neyther will any thing profite vs more then the thought of mortality. Let euery one say vnto himselfe, as if it were vnto a­nother, What helpeth it vs, as if we were borne to liue euer, to proclaime our hatreds, and mispend so short a life? What profiteth vs to transfer those dayes which we might spend in honest pleasure, in plotting another mans miserie and torment? These things of so short continuance would not be hazarded, ney­ther haue we any leasure to loose time. Why rush we forward to fight? Why beget we quarrels against our selues? Why being forgetfull of our weakenesse, embrace we excessiue [...]atreds? And being readie to breake, our selues rise vp to breake others. It will not be long but eyther a feauor, or some other infir­mitie of the bodie will preuent these hatreds which we hatch in our implacable mindes. Behold death at hand, that will part these two mortall enemies. Why tempest we? why so seditiously trouble we our life? Death hangeth ouer our heads, and daily more and more layes holde on him that is dying. That very time which thou destinatest to another mans death, shall be the neerest to thine owne.

CHAP. XLIII.

[...]he con [...]lu [...]ion, wherein he d [...]s­c [...]uereth sum­marily the goods that proc [...]d frō a pe [...]ceab [...]e life, & [...]he c [...]ls that are c [...]us [...]d by Anger. WHy ra [...]her makest thou not vse of this short time of thy life, by making it peaceable both to thy selfe and others? Why rather endeerest thou not thy selfe in all mens loue whilst thou liuest, to the end that when thou diest thy losse may be lamented? And why desirest thou to put him lower, whose authoritie is too great for thee to contend against. VVhy seeekest thou to crush and terrifie that base and contemptible fellow that barketh at thee, and who is so bitter and [Page 581] troublesome to his superiors? Why frettest thou at thy seruant? thy Lord? thy King? Why art thou angry with thy clyent? Beare with him a little, behold death is at hand which shall make vs equals. We were wont to laugh (in behol­ding the combats which are performed on the sands in the morning) to marke the conflict of the Bull and Beare when they are tied one to another, which af­ter they haue tyred one another, the Butcher attendeth for them both to driue them to the slaughter-house. The like doe we; we challenge him that is cou­pled with vs, we charge him on euery side, mean while both the conquered and the conquerour are nee [...]e vnto their ruine. Rather let vs finish that little re­mainder of our life in quiet and peace, and let not our death be a pleasure to any man. Oft-times they that were together by the [...]ares haue forsaken their strife, because that during their debate, some one hath cryed fire that was kindled in a neighbours house, and the enteruiew of a wilde beast hath diuided the thiefe and the merchant. We haue no leasure to wrestle with lesser euils, when grea­ter feare appeareth. What haue we to doe with fighting and ambushes? Doest thou wish him with whom thou art displeased, any more then death? Although thou sayest nothing to him he shall die; thou loosest thy labour, thou wilt doe that which will be don [...]. I will not, sayest thou, forthwith kill him, but banish, disgrace, or punish him. I pardon him rather that desireth his enemie should be wounded, then scabbed; for this man is not onely badly but basely minded, whether it be that thou thinkest of death or any one more slight euill, there is but a very little di [...]ference betwixt the day of thy desire, vntill the punishment which such a one shall endure, or till the time thou shalt reioyce with an euil conscience at the miseries of another man: for euen now, while we drawe our breath we driue our spirit from vs. Whilst we are amongst men, let vs embrace humanitie, let vs be dreadfull or dangerous to no man; let vs contemne detri­ments, iniuries, slaunders, and garboyles, and with great mindes suffer short incommodities, whilst we looke behinde vs, as they say, and turne our selues, beholde death doth presently attend vs.

The end of SENECAES three Bookes of Anger.

A DISCOVRSE OF CLEMENCIE, WRITTEN BY LVCIVS ANNAEVS SENECA To NERO CAESAR. The first Booke.

The Argument of IVSTVS LIPSIVS.

THese Bookes were written in the beginning of NEROES raigne, which he himselfe manifestly proueth in his first Book and ninth chapter, wher­as he writeth that hee was entred into the nineteenth yeare of his age. And vndoubtedly both the words and matter are worthy of a Prince; and I would to God they would reade the same, and from thence gather the fruits of mercie and magnitude. He beginneth with NEROES praise, and that de­seruedly; for his beginnings were moderate. Afterwards in his third Chapter he deui­deth his writings into three parts: the one of Manuduction, the other which explicateth the nature of Clemency, which leadeth men thereunto and firmeth them. In the first, the first whole Booke intreateth thereof, and in the forefront he setteth downe the profite of Clemency, and how greatly it beseemeth Kings. That Clemency well becommeth them, because they are the heads of the Common-weale, and we as the bodie and members. But who is he that spareth not and nourisheth not his body? And that shee is necessary also where there are many offenders, whom if thou punishest alwayes, thou makest the Com­mon-weale a solitude. By the example of the gods, who spare vs. Likewise in regard of fame, because Kings actions are the obiects of all mens eyes, and the least crueltie is too long. By their security; for they that gouerne thu [...]; are more secure, and he annexeth some notable actions of AVGVSTVS. Contrariwise, in tyrants who worke their owne de­structions by cruelty, hatreds, and perrils. But a Prince doth therefore punish seldome, mildely and temperately, with the minde, and after the example of Parents, and that mo­deration is fruitfully vsed in Schooles, Campes, amongst beasts and seruants: yea, it is vsed by nature, by the example of Bees, whose King hath no sting. But now a Prince when he punisheth, eyther punisheth for his owne or another mans cause: in his owne cause he ought not to be rigorous, because he liueth in so high a fortune that he needeth not the solace of reuenge: not in another mans cause, but according to the law, to amend them, or make other better or more secure. And all these things the seldomnesse of pu­nishment [Page 583] will effect, they that are often, are set light by, and are despised. In the shutting vp he setteth downe the detestation of crueltie, and the mischifes and ouerthrowes that grow by her.

CHAP. I.

NERO CAESAR, I haue determined to write of Clemencie, How requisite it is for the great men of this world to studie how to moderate their minds, which they may doe the better if they meditate what prehemi­nence th [...]y haue aboue other m [...]. to the end that in some sort I may serue thee for a mirrour, and shew thee to [...]hy selfe, in such sort, as thou mayest receiue a per­fite contentment thereby [...] for although the true fruite of vertuous actions be to haue done them, and that without vertues themselues there is no recompence whatsoeuer, that is worthy of themselues, yet there is a certaine pleasure [...]o ex­amine and visit a good conscience euery wayes, and then to fixe a mans eyes vpon this infinite multitude, turbulent, seditious, passionate, that bathe them selues willingly in other mens blouds, yea, in their owne, if they haue broken the yoake that restraineth them, and to speak thus in himselfe to himselfe. I am he amongst all other mortall men, who haue beene agreeable to the gods, and whom they haue chosen for their liefetenant vpon the earth. I haue the power of life and death ouer all nations. It lyeth in my hands to dispose the estate and condition of euery man; fortune pronounceth by my mouth that which she intendeth, that euery man shall haue and possesse in this life: whole Nations and Cities conceiue occasion of reioyce by my com­mandements. There is no Nation whatsoeuer that flourisheth not by my good will and fauour; vpon the least inkling I shall giue, so many thousands of swords, which haue beene sheathed by my peace, shall be drawne againe. It is in my power to ordaine what Nations shall be exterminated, which shall bee transported from one country to another, which in franchised, or made sub [...]ect; what Kings shall be conquered, and whose heads shall be adorned with the roy­all wreath; what Citties shall be ruinated and what builded. Being thus pos­sessed of so great power, neyther hath wrath, nor youthly heate, neyther folly or insolence of men, who haue often made the most temperate to loose their patience, neither the proude designe to make shew of my power, in causing o­ther men to feare, a glorie too frequent amongst such as are Monarches, haue neuer inforced mee to chastise or put any man to death wrongfully. My sword is hidden, nay more, kept in the sheath. The bloud of my meanest sub­iects is carefully spared by me. Although a man haue many imperfections, yet in regard he is a man, he is gracious in mine eyes: my seuerity is hidden and my Clemencie apparant. Such a watch haue I ouer my selfe, as if I were to yeelde an account to the lawes (which from obscuritie I haue brought to light) of all mine actions. I haue pardoned one by reason of his youth, another because he was olde, that man because of his magistracie, that other for his obscuritie: and when in those that were faultie I found not any occasion of mercie, I bare with them for the loue of my selfe. If the immortall gods summon me this day to yeeld vp my reckoning, I am readie to account for the whole world. Caesar thou mayest boldly speake this, that of all those things which thou hast imbra­ced vnder thy protection and safe-guard, tho [...] hast taken nothing from the [Page 585] Common-wealth, eyther by violence or cunning. Thou hast wished and pur­chased innocence [...] which is a praise very rare, and such as yet hath not bin gran­ted to any Prince. Thou loosest not thy paines, and this thy singular bountie hath not met with ingratefull or misconceiuing subiects. Each one acknow­ledgeth the good thou hast done them. Neuer was man so beloued by ano­ther as thou art by the Romane people, whose great and continuall felicitie thou art. But thou hast laide a waightie burthen on thy shoulders. No man speaketh more now of the former yeares, either of the Empire of Augustus or Tiberius. Neyther seeke they any patterne besides thy selfe, whereby they may gouerne their life. One yeare of thy gouernement sheweth that which we hope for in the yeares that follow, which would hardly be imagined, if this thy bountie were borrowed for a time, but is naturall. For no man can long time conceale his imperfections, and the actions suddenly discouer what the hidden nature is. Those things that containe verity, and which grow from that which hath some firmitie in it increase, and from time to time waxe better and better. The Romane people were very much perplexed whilst they stood in expectation, whereunto thy generous nature would apply it selfe at the first. Now are all mens desires accomplished and assured; for it is not to be feared that thou wilt forget thy selfe suddenly. Too much felicity maketh men o­uer-greedie; neyther are desires at any time so tempered, that they stay them­selues vpon that good which is befalne them. Euery one ascendeth from great vnto greater, and they that haue attained such things as they hoped not for, em­brace strange designes: yet all thy Cittizens do now confesse that they are hap­pie, and that nothing can be added to their felicitie, except it should be perpe­tuall. Many things cause them to confesse thus much, namely, their great and assured repose, with all the commodities of life, which is a good which befalls a man very hardly, and vpon the end of his yeares. Furthermore, a iustice pla­ced aboue all iniurie. They represent vnto themselues, and see an excellent forme of publique gouernement, which containeth all that which is requisite to establish a perfect libertie, prouided, that it be seconded by a continuall dili­gence. But principally both great and little are rauished, in considering thine affabilitie, so equall and answerable to all mens expectations. For as touching thine other vertues, euery one partaketh them according to the proportion of his fortune, and expecteth more or lesse of thy larges; but all of them in general depend vpon thy Clemencie: neyther is there any one so assured in his inno­cence, that had not rather prostrate himselfe before thy Clemency, which is so readie to excuse and winke at euery mans faults.

CHAP. II.

Altho [...]gh the m [...]cie and be­ [...]ignity o [...] P [...]inces serueth for such as [...]re guilty in especi­all, yet both the innocent and vertuous reape a profit thereby. BVt I know there are some that thinke that Clemency emboldneth those men that are most wicked, because it standeth in no stead, ex­cept it be after that the fault is committed, and this vertue onely ceaseth amongst those that are innocent. But first of all, euen as the vse of Physique is as honourable amongst the sicke, as it is a­mongst the whole; so although the nocent cry vpon Clemencie, yet the inno­cent forbeare not to reuerence it. Moreouer, Clemencie hath place in the per­son of those that are innocent, because the qualitie of the persons putteth them in danger; and Clemencie not onely assisteth the innocent, but oftentimes ver­tue [Page 585] likewise by reason, that the tim [...]s may become such, that such things may be oppressed and punished, which should be praised. Moreouer, a great part of men may grow to an amendment in their liues; yet must we not alwayes par­don the greater number that offend. For where the difference betwixt good and bad men is taken away, there followeth a confusion and a breaking forth of errours. There must therefore be some moderation practised that know [...]th how to distinguish good minds from reprobate; neyther ought a Prince to haue a confused and vulgar, neither too restrained Clemency: for it is as great cruelty to pardon all, as to pardon none. We must holde a meane; but because mode­ration is hard to be obserued, whatsoeuer is like to be more then equitie requi­reth, must incline more to humanitie then rigor.

CHAP. II.

BVt these things shall more fitly be decided in another place: Diuision of the Booke. for the present I will diuide this matter into three parts. The first shall serue for a Preface or Induction. The second shall expresse the nature and habitude of Clemencie: for whereas there are vices that counterfeit vertues, they cannot be diistnguished ex­cept thou set downe some markes whereby they may be knowne. Thirdly, we will enquire how the minde attaineth to this vertue, how he fortifieth him­selfe thereby, and by vse maketh her his owne. But it must needes appeare that of all other vertues there is none more conuenient for man, because there is none more humane then it: and not onely amongst vs Stoicks, who maintaine that a man is a sociable creature, and is made for the common good of others; but also amongst those that giue m [...]n ouer to pleasure, all whose speeches and a­ctions tend to their particular profite. For if a man seeke for repose and idle­nes, he hath found in Clemencie a vertue agreeable to his nature which loueth peace and restrain [...]th the hand. But of all others Clemenci [...] becommeth no man more then it doth a Prince: for so is great power honourable and full of glorie in great Potentates, if they vse it for the comfort of many; as contrari­wise force is pernicious that serueth to no other end but to offend others. A man cannot sufficiently expresse how firme and well grounded his greatnesse is, whom all men [...]now [...]o b [...] as much for th [...]m, a [...] he is more highly raised a­boue them, whom th [...]y obserue to k [...]pe continuall watch; for the safetie of them all in common, and of euery one in particular [...] vpon whose approach they runne not away [...] as if any euill ne [...]red [...]hem, or that some cruell beast broke out from his denne, but they flooke and [...]n vnto him, as to a gracious and shi­ning sunne, readie and addressed to adu [...]ture vpon their weapons who haue plotted treasons against him, and to make a bridge of their bodies for him, if for the conseruation of hi [...] life it w [...]r [...] n [...]edfull for him to march vpon the bodies of men that were m [...]ngled and [...]ut in p [...]ec [...]s. They which about him during the time that he sleepeth, by day th [...] they in [...]l [...] [...] this [...] person on euery side, and lest any one should hurt him they expose themselues to all dangers for him, whatsoeuer they be that present themselues. This consent of Nations and Citties, in louing and maintayning their Kings, and employing their bodie and goods in defence of a Princes life, is grounded vpon good reason. Neyther is this basenesse and madnesse in them for one man, yea, and he sometimes olde and decrepit, in so many thousands to attempt vpon the points of their enemies [Page 586] weapons, and to redeeme one soule by the death of many, and that one an olde and weake man sometimes. An excellent comparison. Euen as the whole bodie serueth the soule, and by meanes therof seemeth more great and of fairer appeareance, wheras the soule contrariwise, lyes hid and inuisible, without any certaine knowledge in what place it remaineth; and yet notwithstanding the hands, the feete, the eyes doe serue the same, the skin as her Bulwarke defendeth her, and she it is that stayeth or maketh vs runne hither or thither at her pleasure; so that if she be couetous we trauell whole Seas to become rich; if ambitious, we presently o [...]fer our right hands to be burned, or we voluntarily leap into the fire: so this infinite multi­tude which inuiron one onely soule, is gouerned by the same, and guided by reason it selfe, which would otherwise depresse and oppresse her owne forces, except she were sustained by his counsaile.

CHAP. IIII.

THey therefore loue their owne safetie, when as for one man they leade ten legions to the battell, The loue be­ [...]weene Prince and subiect is the maintenance of an estate. when they runne resolutely to the charge, and present their breasts to bee wounded, to the end their Emperours coulors should not be taken. For he it is that is the bond, whereby the Common-wealth is fastened toge­ther; he is that vitall spirit by which so many thousands liue: of her selfe shee should be nothing but a burden and pray, if so be that soule of the Empire were taken from her.

The King in safetie, all men liue in peace,
The King once lost, the [...] faith and troth doth cease.

Such an accident shall extinguish the peace of Rome, To gouerne well and to obey well are the two si­newe [...] of an e­state. this shall bring the for­tune of so great a people vnto ruine. So long shall this people be freed from this danger, as long as she knoweth how to endure gouernement, which gouern­ment if at any time she shall shake off, or hauing cast it off by any casualtie, shall refuse to vndergoe againe this vnitie and contexture of so great an Empire, shall be diuided into many partes, and euen then shall Rome cease to commaund when shee refuseth and neglecteth to obey It is not therefore to be wonde­red at that we loue Princes, Kings, and Tutors of publique States (by what name soeuer they be called) more then our priuate familiars. For if men of the best iudgement doe thinke that that which concerneth the Common-wealth is of greater importance then that which toucheth their owne particu­lar, it followeth that he, vpon whose safetie the whole Common-wealth hath an eye should be more deerely lo [...]ed th [...]n any other. In time past Caesar so v­nited and enbosomed himselfe in the Common-wealth of Rome, that the one might not be separated from the other without the ruine of them both; for as he had neede of forces, so had they of a head.

CHAP. V.

IT seemeth that this my Discourse is estranged too farre from mine intended purpose, By the similitude of the head and members, that Clemencie is wholy necessarie to Princes, since their subiects ex­pose themselues to all dangers for them. but to speake the truth, it neerly concer­neth the matter. For if it be so as we may truely conclude, that thon art the soule of the Common-wealth, and shee the bodie; Thou seest, as I thinke, how necessary Clemencie is: for thou seemest to spare thy selfe when thou sparest others. Thou oughtest therefore to beare with euill subiects, no otherwise then thou wouldest doe with lan­guishing members [...] and if sometimes there be neede of bloud-letting, take heed lest the veine be opened more largely then the sickenesse requireth. Clemency therefore, as I said, is agreeable vnto all mens nature, but especially it best befit­teth Princes, because in them she findeth more people to preserue, and a greater matter wherein to shew herselfe. For how little hurteth a priuate cruelty? but Princes displeasure is a warre. But whereas amongst all vertues there is a certaine concord and agreement, neyther is the one more better or more honest then the other, yet are there some vertues that are more fit for some persons. Magnanimity becommeth euery mortall man, yea, euen he that is the most ba­sest and abiectest man of the world. For what is greater and more manly then to repulse aduerse fortune? Yet this magnanimity sheweth it selfe more amply in greater fortune, and appeareth more powerfull in the Tribunall then neere the earth. Into whatsoeuer house Clemencie commeth, she maketh the same more peaceable; but in the Pallace the rarer it is, the more wonderfull it is: for what is more wonderfull then he against whose wrath nothing can make head, to whose seuere sentence euen they that are condemned giue consent; whom no man will question with, why he did this, nay if he be extraordinarily angry, dare intreat for any thing; to lay hold on himselfe, and to vse his power more mercifully and mildely, and to thinke this in his [...]eart no man can kill contra­ry to law, no man can pardon but my selfe? A great minde becommeth a great fortune, and if he mounteth not himselfe as high as she is, and if hee raise not himselfe aboue her, he embraceth her likewise, and bringeth her to the ground. But it is the propertie of a great minde to be pleasing, peaceable, setled, despising all iniuries and offences, as being raised to a higher estate. It is a womanish qua­litie to be enraged with wrath, and after the manner of wilde beasts (and they not the most generous) to bite and trample downe those that are vnder their feete. Elephants and Lions passe by those whom they haue murthered and cast downe. Those beasts that haue no noble heart are the most obstinate. In­exorable and cruell Anger b [...]commeth not a King; for he is not very much e­minent aboue him, with whom by reason of displeasure, he maketh himselfe e­quall; but if he giue pardon, but if he giue dignitie to those that haue endange­red and deserued to loose their estates; he doth that which no man else can do, except he that hath power and principallity: for life is often taken from him that is a superiour, but neuer giuen to him that is an inferiour. To saue is the pro­perty of an excellent fortune, which may neuer more be wondred at, then when he hath gotten the opportunity to doe that which the gods doe, by whose be­nefite both good and euill men are borne into this world. That Prince there­fore that taketh vpon him the minde of the gods, let him willingly entertaine some of his subiects because they are good and profitable, leaue the rest as men to make vp the number, let him reioice that som are, & other som let him suffer.

CHAP. VI.

Crueltie dispe [...] ­pleth Cities and Countries, merci [...] maketh them fortunate. THinke what solitude and desolation there would bee in this Citie (in which a World of people going and comming incessantly by the spacious streetes cease not to justle one another as oftentimes as something hindereth their walke which is as a violent torrent which a man would staie, in which three streetes are requisite at one time, for three Theaters and in which as much corne is consumed as is ga­thered in many Countries) if a man should leaue none but such, as a seuere Iudge would absolue. Who is hee amongst the receiuers and treasurers that shall get his Quietus est, if he be as strictly examined: as he doth others? Is there euer an accuser without a fault? And I know not whether there be any man more dif­ficult to giue pardon then he that hath often deserued to begge the same. Wee are all faultie, the one more, the other lesse, the one of deliberate purpose, the other being driuen there vnto by aduenture, or drawne by other mens wic­kednesse. Sometimes we haue not constantly perseuered in one good resoluti­on, and haue lost our innocence with griefe, and in spight of our selues; neither only [...]or the present doe we amisse, but vntill the last houre of our life, we shall be still full of sinne. Although a man hath so well purged his minde that no­thing can trouble or deceiue him any more yet by sinning hee attainted his in­nocencie.

CHAP. VII.

A most strong reason to per­swade Princes to be mercifull to their subiects. BEcause I haue made mention of the gods behold heare an excellent patterne which I present vnto a Prince, to conforme himselfe ther­vnto (that is to say) that hee deale with his subjects in such sort as hee would haue the gods to deale with him: were it expedient for vs that the gods should neuer excuse our pardon or faults, but that they should persecute vs with all rigour? Should there bee any great Prince in this World be found who should liue in assurance and whose members the Aruspices should not gather vp? But if the mercifull and just gods punish not the faults of mightie men by confounding them by lightning, how much more just is it, that a man who hath the charge ouer men should exercise his Empire with mercifull minde, and thinke whether the state of the World be more gra­cious or fairer to the eye, in a faire and bright day, or when as all things are sha­ken with thunder-crackes and lightnings flash on euerie side. But one and the same is the estate of a quiet and moderate Empire, of a faire and shining Heauen. A Kingdome where crueltie raigneth may be compared to a trouble­some and obscure time, vnder which euery one trembleth and waxeth pale, by reason of the sodaine crackes of thunder, and where he that troubleth others is as wonderfully troubled for his own part. We pardon those priuate men more easily, who reuenge themselues obstinately, for they may bee hurt, and their sorrow commeth from injurie. Besides they feare contempt, and not to re­uenge an injurie, seemeth rather to bee an infirmitie then Clemencie. But hee that may easily reuenge, and yet forbeareth the same, obtaineth a certaine com­mendation of mercie. Men of bare qualitie may more freely exercise their hands, contest, striue, and giue libertie to their passion. The strokes betwixt e­quals [Page 589] are light, but exclamation and too much intemperance in wordes, ill be­seemeth Majestie.

CHAP. VIII.

THinkest thou it a grieuous matter, that the libertie of speech should bee taken from Kings and permitted to inferiours? This saiest thou, is a seruitude and not an Emperie. But their condition is different, who lie hidden in community which they exceed not, whose ver [...]ue appeare not but struggle long time, and whose vi­ces lie hidden in obscuritie. But common report awakeneth your actions and wordes, and therefore there are no men that should bee more carefull of their reputations, of whom men speake much, and in diuers places, whether they doe well or [...]uill, How many things are there which are vnlawfull for thee, but permitted vs by thy benefit. I may walke alone in any part of the Citie with­out feare, although I be accompanied by no man, and no man attend me from home, and without any sword by my side, but in the fulnesse of thy peace thou must liue armed. Thou canst not wander from thy Fortune, she will besiege thee, and whether soeuer thou goest a great traine will follow thee. Beholde whereunto soueraigntie is subject, she cannot become lesse, but this necessitie is common to thee with the gods. For they are tied vnto Heauen, it is not per­mitted them to descend from thence, neither is it secure for thee to descend from the throne of thy greatnesse. Thou art nayled to thy greatnesse. Few men know our dessignes and businesse, wee may goe forth and returne and change our fashion without any publique note taken of vs. Thou canst no more bee hidden then the Sunne. A great brightnesse inuironeth thee round about, towards which all men bend their eyes. Thinkest thou that thou commest forth? no thou risest like the Sunne. Thou canst not speake but all the people of the World vnderstand and marke what thou saist. Thou canst not be angrie but all men tremble. Thou canst not afflict any man, but all that are a­bout thee shake for feare. Euen as the lightnings fall to few mens perill but to all mens feare, so the chastisements of mightie Potentates are more full of feare then of euill, and not without cause. For in him that can doe, all men consider not what he doth, but what he may do. Moreouer, patience maketh those pri­uate men, disposed to indure those injuries that are offered them easily enough; But Clemencie is a more assured safegard to great men. Because a frequent re­uenge represseth the hatred of a few men, but prouoketh infinitie others. The will to reuenge ought sooner to faile then the cause. Otherwise as the trees that are pruned, spread forth in many more branches, and many kindes of seeds, are cut to the end they may grow more thicker, so the crueltie of a King increa­seth the number of his enemies in extinguishing them. For the Parents and Children, the Allies and Friends succeed in their place, who are slaine.

CHAP. IX.

HOW true this is I will admonish thee by a domestique example. Caesar Augustus was a mercifull Prince, if any man shall estimate him, from that time hee vndertooke the Empire (although in the common calamitie of the Common-weale, his sword was vn­sheathed.) When as he had growne to those yeares of age wher­unto thou hast now attained, and had gotten ninet [...]ene yeares on his backe; and had hidden his dagger in the bosome of his friends, laid ambushes to defeat Marke Anthonie the Consull, being one of the Confederates in the Trium­uirate; about the fortieth yeare of his age, and being resident in France, there was tidings brought vnto him, that Lucius Cynna a man of weake judgement had conspired and plotted treason against him. It was told him where, when, and how he should be attempted by one of those, who was a partie in the con­federacie. Whereupon he resolued to reuenge himselfe vpon him, and caused a counsell of his friends to bee assembled. He tooke no rest that night, where as he thought with him selfe, how hee should put a young Gentleman to death of Noble parentage, and who but for this one fault was vpright enough: and be­sides was Cneius Pompeius Nephew. Now could he not execute one man alone, because at supper time hee had discouered to one that was called Anthonie the whole edict of the proscription: G [...]i [...]uing ther [...]fore and disquiet in minde, he vt­tered diuers speeches, and each of them contrarie the one vnto the other, what then (saith he) Shall I suffer him that would murther mee to walke at his plea­sure, and shal I liue perplexed. Shal he remaine vnpunished, who not only hath resolued to kill me, but to sacrifice mee (for their intent was to assaile him at a a sacrifice) who haue bin assailed in vain by so many ciuill warres, and attemp­ted by so many battels both by Sea and Land? After some pause and silence he exclaimed againe more violently against him selfe, then against Cynna, and said why liuest thou, if thy death be profitable and pleasing to so many? When shall I see the end of so many punishments? is there not bloud enough shed yet? my head is the marke wherat so many yong Roman gentlemens swords are aimed. Is my life so deere vnto mee that for the conseruation thereof, so many soules should perish? At last Liuia his wife interrupting his discourse, The great wise­dome of Liuia. said vnto him: Will you vouchsafe a womans counsaile? Doe that which Physitians are ac­customed to doe. Who when as vsuall remedies take no effect, doe attempt the contrarie. Hetherto thou hast profited nothing by seueritie. After Saluidienus thou hast ruinated Lepidus, after Lepidus Murena, after Muraena Caepio, after Cae­pio Ignatius, without reckoning vp the rest, whose impious and impudent at­tempts make me ashamed. Now make thou triall what thy mercie will profite thee. Pardon Lucius Cynna, his treason cannot be d [...]nied; hee cannot hurt thee now [...] but may increase thy renowne Caesar being glad, that he had met with such an aduocate, gaue his wife thankes, and presently discharging those friendes he had called to counsaile, he caused Cynna alone to be called vnto him, and com­maunding all the rest out of the Chamber, after he had commaunded them to set Cynna a chaire fast by him, he begunne thus. This first of all doe I require at th [...] hands, that thou interrupt me not, neither that thou exclaime in the midst of my discourse, hereafter thou shalt haue libertie to speake. Thou knowest Cyn­na that hauing found thee in mine enemies Campe; and knowne thee not only to be a sugg [...]sted, but a born enemie vnto me, how I saued thy life, and restored [Page 591] thee to all thy patrimonie. At this day thou art so happie, and so rich that the Conquerours beare enuie against thee that were conquered, when thou wast a sutor for the Pontifice, I gaue it thee neglecting diuers others whose parents had attended me in my warres. Hauing thus and so well deserued at thy hand [...], thou hast resolued to murther mee. When as Cynna began to crie out, that such madnesse was farre from him Augustus staid him and said. Thou keepest not thy promise with me Cynna? for it was agreed betweene vs that thou shouldest not interrupt me. I tell thee thou preparest to kill me, he told him the place, the confederates, the day, and the order of the ambush, and who was the man should strike the stroke. And when he perceiued him troubled, and not only si­lent because he had promised to be so, but because he was guiltie. With what minde said he doest thou this? To the end that thou thy selfe maist bee Empe­rour? Truly the Common [...]weale should bee hardly incombred, if none but I were the let of thine authoritie and dignitie. Thou canst not gouerne thine owne house. Of late a franckling of thine hath had the credit to condemne thee in justice for particular affaires. Is this the easiest businesse thou canst vn­dertake to contest and contend with Caesar? Take it to thee, if I bee the only man that hinder thy hopes, I surrender it; Paulus, Fabius Maximus, the Cossi and Seruilians and so many Gentlemen of value, and Children of such worthie per­sons, that doe honour to their Statues, thinkest thou they will indur [...] thee? But least in repeating his Oration, I should fill vp the greater part of this vo­lume, who was well knowne to haue debated with him for the space of two whole houres, after he had long time discoursed vpon that punishment where­with he would content himselfe, he add [...]d. Well Cynna once more I giue thee thy life, before times as to mine enemie, now as to a Traitour and a Paracide. From this day forward let friendship be continued betweene vs, and let vs striue to the vttermost to make it knowne, whether I haue giuen thee thy life with a better heart, The effect and fruites of mercy. or thou accepted the same with a more assured thankfulnesse. Af­ter all this of his owne accord, and vnasked h [...] gaue him the Consul-ship, com­playning of him that hee durst demand nothing, so that euer after Cynna was a most affectionate and faithfull seruant of his, and made him his heire, and neuer after this did any man conspire against Augustus.

CHAP. X.

THY great grand-father gaue them life, Other testimo­nies of Augu­stus his mercy. whom hee ouercame, for had he not pardoned them ouer whom should hee haue had go­uernment? Salust, the Coccians, the Duillians and all the Soul­diers of the first companie of his Gard had borne Armes against him, notwithstanding he inrowled them, & chose them to be the nearest about his person. The Domitians, Messalaes, Asiuians, and Ciceroes, and all the most famous personages in Rome were indebted to his Clemencie. How long time bare he with Lepidus? he suffered him for many yeares to walke with that Equipage that became a Prince, and would not suffer the Office of high Bishop to be transferred vnto him, except it were after his death, for hee had rather that it should bee called an honour then a spoile. This Clemencie of his brought him to that securitie and felicitie which hee inioyed, this made him gratefull and gracious in all mens eyes, although hee had laid holde on the Common-weale, who as yet knew not what it was to endure the yoake of sub­iection, [Page 592] such a name at this day doth this mercie of his giue him, that other Princes will hardly obtaine during their liues. We beleeue him to be a God, not by any decree or ordinance: we confesse that Augustus was a good Prince, we acknowledge him well worthy of the name of the father of his countrey, for no other cause then for this, that hee reuenged not those contumelies that were offred him (and which in Princes eares are wont to sound most harshly) no more then he did his actuall iniuries, for that he smiled at reprochfull speeches that were offered him, for that he seemed to punish himselfe when he persecu­ted others, for that whomsoeuer he had condemned for the adulteries of his daughter, he was so farre from executing them, that in their dismission, and for their better securitie he gaue them pasports and safe conducts. This is truely called pardoning, that when thou knowest that there are diuers that are addres­sed to be angrie for thee, and gratifie thee if thou hast caused any to be put to death, thou not onely contentest thy selfe to giue life, but also procurest that he to whom thou hast giuen it be maintayned and conserued.

CHAP. XI.

To perswade Nero to conti­nue his Cl [...]men­cie, he compares him with Au­gustus Caesar, and sheweth that Ne [...]o had the aduantage in this respect, be­cause his prede­cessor had that praise also after his cruelty com­mitted, he in the entrance and in­fancie of his go­uernement. THus Augustu [...] behaued himselfe when he was olde, or at least­wise when olde age began to seize vpon him: In his youth hee was hote, wrathfull, and did many things which he neuer lookt backe vnto without remorse. No man dare compare Augu­stus courtesie to thy Clemencie, although he equall thy young yeares with his more then mature age. Suppose that he were moderate and mercifull after he had dyed the Actian Seas with bloud of Romanes, sunke in the Scicilian both his owne and forraine ships, sacrificed a great number of men vpon the altars of Perusa, and caused many multitudes of men to be put to death in the time of the Triumuirate. But I call not this Clemencie, but wea­ried crueltie. The true Clemencie and mercie, O Caesar, is that which thou shewest, which hath not begun with the repentance of cruelty, thine is not soy­led, thou hast neuer shed the bloud of Romane Cittizens. This in a Prince is the true temperance of a minde, and an incomprehensible loue towards man­kind, not to be enkindled with any desire or rashnes, not to be corrupted by the example of former Princes, not to weigh how farre his authority may extend ouer his subiects, but to dull the edge of the Emperiall sword and dignitie. Thou hast exempted thy Citti [...], O Caesar from all bloudie massacres, and performed this, which with a great minde thou mayest glorie in, That thorow the whole world thou hast not shed one drop of mans bloud: and the more great and wonderfull it is, because the sword was neuer committed to the hands of any one more yonger then thy selfe. Clemencie therefore doth not only make men more honest, but more secure; What care Princes sh [...]uld haue to make [...] [...]nd [...]ngs answerabl [...] t [...] his beginnings. and is not onely the ornament but the assured safetie of King­domes, who thorow Princes haue attained long life, and left their gouernments to their children and nephews, but the power of tyrants is execrable and short. What difference is there betwixt a Tyrant and a King? In appeareance they haue one and the same dignitie, the difference is, that Tyrants take pleasure in their tyrannie, Kings doe iustice but vpon cause and necessitie.

CHAP. XII.

WHat then, are not Kings sometimes accustomed to put men to death? The difference betwixt good Princes and Tyrants. It is true; but so often as they are assured that it is for publique profite. The Tyrants heart is set vpon murther. But a Tyrant differeth from a King in fact, not in name. For Diony­sius the elder may iustly be preferred before diuers Kings. And what letteth vs to call Lucius Sylla a tyrant, who gaue ouer killing when hee found no more enemies? Although he forsooke his Dictature, and tooke vpon him the robe of a priuate Cittizen: yet what Tyrant hath there euer beene that so greedily drunke vp humane bloud, then he was who commanded seuen thousand Romane Cittizens to be slaine? And when as being in counsaile in the Temple of Bellon [...], neere vnto the place where the execution was done, hee had heard the cries of so many thousands that groned vnder the sword; & per­ceiuing that the Senate was affrighted thereat. Let vs intend our businesse (sayth he) Fathers Conscript, these are but a few seditious persons, whom I haue commaunded to be slaine. He lyed not herein; for these seemed but a few in Syllaes eyes. But hereafter we will learne by Sylla how we ought to be angrie with our enemies, especially if being separated from the bodie of Cittizens, they haue taken vpon them the name of enemies. Meane while, as I said, Clemencie effecteth this, that there is a great difference betwixt a King and a Tyrant, although both of them are enuironed with guard [...]. But the one maketh vse of these forces to maintaine peace, the other that by great feares hee may pacifie great hatreds. Neyther securely doth he beholde that very guard, to whose custodie he hath committed himselfe, but one contrary thrust [...]th him into another; for he is both hated because he is feared, and will be feared because he is hated, and v­seth that execrable verse which hath ouerthrowne many;

And let them hate me so they feare.

Not knowing what furie is engendered in the hearts of subiects when their ha­treds are increased aboue measure. For a moderate feare restraineth mens mindes, but a continuall violence, and such as is raised euen vnto the brimme, a­wakeneth and emboldneth those that are deepest asleep [...] and giueth them cou­rage to hazard all. If thou keepest sau [...]ge be [...]sts soulded vp in gins and nets, a horseman may assault them with his weapons at their backes, yet will they at­tempt their flight by those places they were wont to flie, and will spurne feare vnderfoote. That courage that groweth from extreame necessitie is maruei­lous forcible. Feare must leaue vs some gap to escape out at, and shew vs lesse danger then hope, otherwise he that was not determined to de [...]end himselfe, seeing himselfe in equall danger, will aduenture vpon dangers, and hazard tha [...] life which he esteemeth not his owne. The forces which a peaceable Prince shall gather for the good of his subiects are faithfull and assured; and the braue souldier who seemeth to aduenture for publique security, endureth all trauaile willingly, as being one of the guards of the father of his countrey. But as tou­ching the violent and bloudie Tyrant, his guard must needes be aggrieued at him.

CHAP. XIII.

A description of the miserie of Tyrants and cruell Princes, all intending to this point, to re­commend Cle­mency more and more. NO man can haue ministers of a good and faithfull will whom he vseth in tormenting, in racking, and butchering men to death, to whom he exposeth men no otherwise then he would to beasts. Such a one liueth in no lesse pain and torment then those whom he holdeth in prison, because hee feareth both men and gods as witnesses and reuengers of his crimes, and who is already come to that passe, that he dare not change his manner of liuing. For amongst all other things cru­eltie hath this cursed euill in her, that she is incorrigible, she perseuereth and is not able to recouer any other better course. One wickednesse must be sustai­ned by another. But what is more vnhappy then he is, who cannot chuse but be euill? O how wretched is that man, but truely to himselfe? For as touching others, it were very ill done by them to haue pittie of him who hath exercised his power with slaughters and rapines, who hath feare of all things as well do­mestique as forraine, that fearing armes hath recourse vnto his weapons, neither trusting to his friends faith nor his childrens pietie: that hauing regarded in all sorts that which he hath done, and that which he pretendeth to doe, and com­ming to open his conscience replenished with mischiefes and torments, often­times feareth death and desireth it againe as often; more odious to himselfe then to those that serue him. Contrariwise, he that hath the care and charge of a Common-wealth, although he haue a more intent eye to the conseruation of some things more then other things, yet entertaineth all the members of the State as carefully as those of his bodie, enclining alwayes vnto sweetnesse: and if it be expedient for him to doe iustice, he sheweth that hauing no enmity or beastlinesse in his heart, it is to his hearts-griefe that he layeth his hand on his weapon. Such a one, desiring to approue his gouernement to his subiect, exer­ciseth his power peaceably and to all mens profit, reputing himselfe in his own iudgment sufficiently happie, if he shal make his fortune and condition known, affable in speech, facile in accesse, amiable in countenance, which most of al win­neth th [...] peoples hearts, fauourable to honest enterprises, enemy to euill de­signes [...] he is loued, defended, and reuerenced by all the world. The same speake men in secret of him as they doe in publique. They desire he should haue is­sue, and that sterillity caused by warres and other publique euils should be a­bolished: no man doubteth but that he shall deserue wel at his childrens hands, to whom he shall shew a world so happy. This Prince liuing in security, by his owne meanes, hath no need of guard or garrisons, he vseth his armes as the meanes of his ornament.

CHAP. XIIII.

Another instru­c [...]o [...] for a [...]rince, to teach [...]im to keepe a measure in his mercie. WHat therefore is his duetie? That which belongs to good Parents, who are wont sometime to admonish their children gently, some­times to chastise them with threats, and sometimes with stripes. Doth any man of a setled iudgement disinherite his sonne vpon the first offence, except many and mightie iniuries ouercome his patience? except there be somewhat more that he feareth then that which hee condemneth, he will not blot him out of his Testament. Hee assayeth diuers [Page 595] remedies before hand to reclaime him from his dissolute and inconstant dispo­sition, but when he hath no more hope then assaieth hee his last remedies. No man commeth to practise his extremest chastisements, except hee hath consu­med all his remedies. That which the Parent doth, the same ought a Prince to doe: whom wee haue called the Father of the Countrie not led thereunto by vaine adulation. For those other names are giuen for honour sake. We haue cal­led them Great, Happie and Augusti, and haue heaped vp whatsoeuer titles wee could inuent for ambitious Majestie: attributing them vnto these. We haue cal­led him the Father of the Country, to the end he might know, that he had a father­ly power giuen him ouer his Countrie, and consequently very moderate, care­full of his children, and prouiding for their good, rather then his own particular. If the father must cut of some one of his members it shal be as late as he can, and after he hath cut it of, he wil desire to reuiue it againe, and in cutting it of, he wil tigh and differ long time, and in diuers sorts. For he that condemneth too soone condemneth willingly also, He that chastiseth ouer seuerely, ordinarily chasti­seth vniustly. In our memorie the people of Rome stabbed to death a Roman Knight called Erixo, with their bodkins, for whipping his sonne to death. Scarce could the authoritie of Augustus Caesar redeeme the same from the handes of displeased Fathers and children.

CHAP. XV.

ARIVS hauing discouered, that his owne sonne had attempted and conspired his death, Hauing compa­red a good Prince to a Father, he maketh mention about the end of the precedent section of an euil Father and here of a good, to the end to ex­presse by the same that a good Prince ought to assay all meanes in respect of his subiects before he descends to extreme rigor. after hee knew of the fact banished him, for which acte of his all the people commended him, especially for this that hauing banished the parracide to Mar­sillies, hee furnished him, with as great an anuall pention, as hee had allowed him before hee had trespassed in this sort. This liberalitie was the cause, this liberalitie of his was the cause, that in that Citie, where the baddest causes want no aduocates, that no man doubted but that hee that was guiltie, was deseruedly condemned, since the Father who could not hate him, had the courage to condemne him. By this very example I will giue you the meanes to make a comparison betwixt a good Prince, and a good Father. When Titus Arius would draw his sonne into question, hee called Augustus Caesar to counsell, who came from his own pallace to this priuate mans house, sat down [...] as a partie of the counsell; and he said not why came he not to my house? which had it hapned; the censure of the fault had beene Caesars, and not the fathers. The fact being vnderstood, all circumstances examined, the yong man hauing beene heard in his defence, and his answers and accusations considered. Caesar required euery one of the Counsailers to set downe their opinions in writing, to the end that no man should subscribe to his opinion, or if hee spoake that o­ther men should follow him: and before that the billets were opened, he swore that he would not be Titus Arius heire, who was reputed a rich man. Some base fellow will say, that Caesar was afraid, lest he should seeme to giue entrance to his hope by the condemnation of the yong man. But I thinke otherwise, that euery one of vs to defence our selues against the false opinions, that men might conceiue against vs, ought to fix our selues vpon the assured confidence of good conscience. Princes ought to doe many things, to get them a good report. He swore that he would not be his heire. That same day Arius lost another sonne [Page 596] but Caesar redeemed the libertie of his sentence, and after he had approued that his seueritie was without respect of recompence; of which thing a Prince shold haue an especiall care alwaies, hee sentenced him to bee banished to that place where his father should thinke fit. He iudged him not to be sowed vp in a sack, to be made a pray for Serpents, or to die in prison, remembring himselfe that he sat not there as a Iudge, but as a Counsailer to the father. Hee said that the fa­ther ought to content himselfe with the mildest kind of punishment, in regard of his sonne; who was as yet yong and drawne vnto this wicked act, in pursuite of the execution wherof, he had shewed himselfe to be fearefull, which excused him in some sort, and that it sufficed therefore to banish him from Rome, and from his fathers presence.

CHAP. XVI.

By comparison of fathers and Ma­sters and others in authoritie, and by the example of their gouern­ment be teacheth a Prince how vn­seem [...]ly a thing crueltie and too much seueritie is. O Prince, worthy alwaies to bee called by fathers into their Coun­saile, worthy to bee made coheire with their innocent children. This Clemencie becommeth a Prince, that whether so euer hee commeth, should make all things more mild. Let no man be so abiect in a Princes eye, that hee hath no feeling of his death or danger, whatsoeuer he bee, he is a part of the Empire. Let vs make a compari­son, betwixt the smallest Kingdomes and the greatest Empires; There is but one kind of Gouernement. The Prince commandeth his Subiects, the father his children, the master his schollers, the Captaine or Lieutenant his Souldiers. Shall he not be reputed a wicked father, who with continuall whipping vpon the sleightest occasion, seeketh to still his children? Whether should that Ma­ster be more worthy the liberall studies, who fleaeth his Schollers, if they haue not exactly remembred their lessons; or by reason of their weake sight haue faulted in their reading; or he that had rather mend them, and teach them by admonitions and modestie? Giue me a Captaine or Lieutenant that is cruell, he will make his Souldiers forsake him, and yet these are to be pardoned. Were it a reasonable matter, to handle a man worse then we doe bruit beasts? But hee that is a good breaker of horses, terrifieth them not with often strookes, for by that meanes he will become more fearefull and stubberne, except thou handle and stroake him with a gentle hand. The same doth the Huntsman, who tea­cheth his hound to draw drie foote, and who vseth those whom he hath alrea­die trained to the game to rowse or hunt it. Neither doth hee often threaten them, for therefore their courage is directed, and whatsoeuer forwardnesse is in them, is daunted by degenerate feare; neither doth hee giue them libertie to wander and stray here and there. To these maiest thou adde those that haue the driuing of slower Cattle, which being bred vnto reproach and miserie tho­row too much crueltie, are inforced to refuse their yoke.

CHAP. XVII.

Since a man is [...]he [...] vnta­med creature of the World, we [...]ght to handle h [...]m gently. THere is no liuing Creature more vntoward, none more vntracta­ble by heart then a man is, yet no one is to be spared more then hee; For what folly is it for a man to bee ashamed to spend his spleene vpon Dogges, and Horses, or Asses, and to intreat a man more rudely? Wee cure sicknesses and yet are not angrie with [Page 597] them, but this disease of the minde requireth a gentle medicine and th [...] hee who cureth the same should not bee angrie with th [...] sicke. It is the part of an euill Physition to dispaire that he shall not cure. The same ought he [...] to doe to whom the securitie and protection of all men is committed, in those whose mindes are affected, hee must not suddenly cast by his hopes, neyther inconti­nently pronounce what deadly signes there are in the infirmitie. Let him striue with vices and resist them, let him vpbraid some with their infirmitie, deceiue other some by a gentle cure, because hee i [...] likeliest more soone and better to heale them by deceiueable medecines. Let a Prince indeuour carefully not on­ly to cure but also to giue a smooth cicatrix to the wound of offence. A King obtaineth no glorie by cruell punishment for who doubteth but hee may [...] But contrariwise his glorie is most excellent, if hee containeth his power, if hee deliuer many from the furie of their Enemies, and ruinat [...]th no man by his displeasure.

CHAP. XVIII.

IT is an honour to know how to commaund a mans seruants mo­destly, Another reaso [...] taken by compa­rison betwixt the greater and the less [...]r if all things ar [...] not lawfull in a Master ouer his seruants, they are no lesse lawfull for a Prince ouer his subiects that are men. and in our slaue wee are to thinke not how much punish­ment he may endure and we inflict vpon him without reproofe, but what the nature of right and justice will permit thee: which commandeth vs to spare our Captiues and such whom we haue bought to be our bond-slaues. How much more just is it for thee not to abuse men free, ingenious, and honest, as thy bond men, but to entertaine them, for such as are vnder thy gouernment [...] to defend them as thy subjects, and not af­flict them as thy slaues. It is lawfull for bond-men to flie to Caesars statue. Al­though wee haue authoritie to doe what wee list with our slaues, there is some­what which the common right of liuing Creatures permitteth vs not to exe­cute vpon a man, because he is of the same nature that thou art. Who hated not Vedius Pollio more worse then his owne slaues did, because hee fatted his Lam­proies with mans bloud? and commanded those that offended him to bee cast into the fish-poole to what other end then to feede Serpents? O wretched man worthie a thousand deaths, whether he presented his slaues to be deuoured by those Lamproies hee would feed vpon, or whether to this only end hee nouri­shed them, that in that sort he might nourish them. Euen as cruell Masters are pointed at thorow the whole Citie, and are reputed both hatefull and detesta­ble: so the cruell demencie of Princes, who haue contracted infamie and hatred against them selues, are inregistred in Histories to bee a hatred to posteritie, Had it not beene better neuer to haue beene borne then to bee numbered amongst those that are borne for a publique miserie?

CHAP. XIX.

THere is no man that can bethinke him of any thing that is more seemely for him that is in authoritie then Clemencie in what manner soeuer, Now [...]oncludes [...]e as in a g [...]n [...]ral sentence that which he said in the beginning that mercie is the most noted vertue in Princes. and by what right soeuer hee hath the prehemi­nence ouer others. And the more higher his dignitie is that is in­dued with this vertue, the more noble shall wee confesse his or­nament, [Page 598] to be which should not be hurtful but composed according to the law of nature. For nature hath inuented Kings, which wee may know by other li­uing Creatures and in particular by Bees, whose King hath the largest roome in the Hony Combe, and is lodged in the middle and most securest place. Besides he laboureth not but examineth the labour of the rest, and when their King is lost the whole swarme is dispersed, also they suffer but one, making choice of him that is the boldest in fight. Moreouer the King is noted for his seemelinesse, in that he differeth from the rest both in greatnesse and goodlinesse: yet herein is he most distinguished from them; Bees are the most angrie and fellest Crea­tures that be, according to the capacitie of their bodies, and leaue their stings in the wound, but their King hath no sting. Nature would not haue him cruell nor to seeke reuenge that might hazard his life, and therefore tooke away his weapon, and disarmed his wrath. All Kings and Princes ought to consider this excellent example. It is the custome of nature to discouer her selfe in little thinges, and the least Creatures minister vnto vs the most noblest examples. Let vs not be ashamed to learne some good thing of the smallest Creatures, since the minde of man ought to be more setled then euill which hee doth is hurtful and dangerous. By my consent I would haue man reduced to this condition that his wrath should be broken with his owne weapon, and that he might haue no more meanes to hurt then once in his life, nor exercise his hatreds by an other mans hands: for easily would furie be wearied; if of necessitie she should act that which she her selfe commaundeth, and if she should expresse her power by the harzard of her life: neyther as yet is shee secured in her match. For she must needes bee surprised with as much feare, as shee would haue other haue feare of her, her eyes bee fixed on euery mans hands, and at such times as a man intendeth not to touch her, shee beleeueth that hee will assault her, and hath not one only minute of repose. Is it possible that any one would liue so vnhappily, when the meanes is offered him to passe his dayes without the hurt of any man, and consequently execute the affaires of his charge in all se­curitie, and with great contentment? He abuseth himselfe that supposeth that a King is secure in that place, where there is not any one but is afraid of him. One securitie must be assured by an other mutuall securitie. We need not build strong Citadels, on high hils, nor fortifie vnaccessible places, nor cut downe the sides of Mountaines, nor ensconce our selues with many walles and towers. Clemencie will secure a King in the open field. His only inpregnable fortresse, is the loue of his Cittizens. What more worthie thing can a Prince wish for, then to liue in all mens good opinion, and in such loue of his subjects, that their vowes and prayers should incessantly and secretly bee powred forth for his se­curitie: that if his health be crased, they listen not after his death, but are won­derfully affraid, least they should loose him? that there is nothing so precious in any one of their eyes, that they would not exchange for his health, and securi­tie; that thinketh that whatsoeuer hath befallen the Prince, is fatall to them­selues? Hereby the Prince hath approoued by continuall arguments of his goodnesse, that the Common-weale is not his, but that hee is the Common-weales. Who dare contriue any danger towards him? who would not if hee could, preuent any disaster that is toward him, vnder whom justice, peace, modestie, securitie and dignitie doe flourish, vnder whom the wealthie Cities abound in the plentie of all good thinges? neyther with other mindes reue­rence they, or beholde they their gouernour, then if the immortall goddes should vouchsafe them the libertie to behold themselues. And why doth not [Page 599] he that follloweth the nature of the goddes, which is to bee gracious, liberall, and powerfull, to doe good, become a second to them? This is it that becom­meth a Prince to affect, this ought he to imitate: and as they desire to bee the greatest, so let them indeuour to be the best.

CHAP. XX.

THe Prince is accustomed to doe justice for two causes, Hauing general­ly discoursed of Clemencie and Mercie at this present: in way of partition, he di­gesteth and ga­thereth together that which hath beene said in di­uers Chapters, and sheweth that whether a man regard the per­son of a Prince, or of a priuate man, there ought no cruelty to be vsed. eyther pu­nisheth he the faults that are committed against himselfe, or a­gainst another. I will will first of all speake of that which con­cerneth him. For it is a harder matter for a man to temper him­selfe, when hee chastiseth others, to satisfie his priuate disgust, then to propose it for an example. It were in vaine in this place to admonish a Prince, not to belieue lightly, to examine the truth, to fauour innocencie, that it may appeare, that he is no lesse carefull to examine that which concerneth him that hath offended, as that which toucheth the Iudge. But this appertaineth to justice, and not vnto Clemencie. For the present we exhort him, that being manifestly wronged, he remaine Master of his own heart, and giue ouer punish­ment, if so be he may safely doe it; or at least-wise differ it, and bee more encli­ned to pardon those faults which are committed against himselfe, as against o­thers. For euen as hee is not liberall, that cutteth a large thong out of another mans leather, but hee that taketh that from himselfe which he giueth to ano­ther: So will I call him mercifull, not that weepeth, and is agrieued at another mans affliction, but him who hauing iust and vrgent occasion, passionateth not himselfe, and knoweth that it is the act of a great minde in the height of his au­thoritie to suffer injuries, and that nothing is more glorious in a Prince, then to pardon those who haue offended him.

CHAP. XXI.

REuenge is ordinarily wont to produce two effects, A subdiuision of his matter, ten­ding to that which he hath spoken of, and shewing that sin­ner that by re­uenge, neither increaseth nor maintaineth his estate, he ought not to suffer him selfe to be maste­red by such a passion. for eyther it bringeth him comfort that hath receiued the injurie, or putteth him in securitie for the time to come. A Princes Fortune is so great, as it needeth not such like solace, and his power is more ma­nifest, then that hee neede to seeke the opinion of his greatnesse from the ruine of another. This, say I, when hee is assaulted or violated by any of his inferiours, for if he seeth those who sometimes were his equals, become his vnderlings, he is sufficiently reuenged. A Seruant, a Serpent, an Arrow haue slaine a King. No man hath saued a King, except he that saued him were greater then himselfe. He therefore that hath attained the power ouer life and death, ought to vse so great an authoritie bestowed vpon him by the gods couragious­ly, especially towards those, who in his knowledge haue sometime opposed themselues against his greatnesse: hauing attained this dignitie, he is sufficient­ly reuenged, and hath done that which was requuisite for an entire punish­ment. For he that should die, hath lost his life, but whosoeuer from a high de­gree, hath beene prostitute at his enemies feet, where hee attendeth the defini­tiue sentence of his Crowne and life, liueth to his great glorie, that preserueth him: and addeth more to his renowne by his life, then if he had sentenced him [Page 600] to death. For hee is the continuall spectacle of another mans vertue. In a triumph he had quickly past by. But if his Kingdome likewise may safely bee r [...]deliuered into his handes, and hee might bee restored to that preheminence from whence he was fallen, his prayse riseth aboue all measure, that was conten­ted from a conquered King to take away nothing but his glorie. This it is to tri­umph truly in a mans victorie: and to testifie that he found nothing worthie in the Conquerours hands, that was answerable to his worthinesse and value. As touching our Citizens and men that are vnknown to vs, and such as are of base condition, the more moderately must we deale with them, the lesse honour we shall get by afflicting them. Pardon some men willingly, disdaine to reuenge thy selfe on other some, and retire thy hand from them, as if they were some little silly creatures that would soyle thy fingers, if thou shouldest touch them; but as touching those that are eyther to be pardoned or punished in the eye of the State, make vse of the occasion of thy accustomed Clemencie.

CHAP. XXII.

He prosecuteth his partition, and sh [...]weth that a gentle chastise­ment profiteth more, both to him that is cha­sticed, and to the Prince him­selfe then cruell vigour. LET vs passe ouer to those injuries that are done vnto another, in punishing which the Law hath obserued three things, which a Prince likewise ought to follow, either to amend him whom he punisheth, or to the intent that his punishmēt may make the rest better; or that by cutting of the euill, the rest may liue more se­curely. Those, shalt thou more safly amend with lesse punishment, for he liueth more diligently, that hath some dayes of his life pardoned him to liue in. No man careth for his decaied dignitie. It is a kind of impunitie not to be able to be punished any more. But the fewnesse of executions reformeth the Cities man­ners the more. For the multitude of offenders breedeth a custome of offence, and the note of infamie is the lesse, the greater the number of delinquents there be: and seueritie by being ouer vsuall looseth her authoritie, which is the greatest honour she hath. That Prince setleth good manners in his Citie, and more happily extinguisheth the vices thereof, if he wink at them, not as though he allowed them; but as if hee were agreiued at them, and with great hearts-griefe, was inforced to punish them. The Clemencie of him that gouer [...]eth maketh them ashamed that offend. The punishment seemeth the more gr [...] ­uous, when the sentence is giuen by a mercifull man.

CHAP. XXIII.

Th [...]t continnall and cruell puni­shments, doe not so much represse offences, as the prudent Clemen­cie of Princ [...]s. BEsides, thou shalt s [...]e those thinges oftentimes committed which are often times punished. Thy Father within the space of fiue yeares sowed vp more paracides, then were condemned to that death in all the ages before, as farre as we can gather. As long as there was no law established against this hainous crime, no chil­dren durst attempt or imagine this so vnnaturall a wickednesse [...] For those Law-makers and notable persons most wise and well experienced, thought it better to make no mention of this crime in their Lawes, as a most incredible matter [...] and such as man should not be so cursed, as to imagine, then to publish by the [Page 601] establishment of seuere lawes against the same, that so horrible an offence might be committed. Parricides therfore began with their law, and their punishment taught them their offence: Piety was in a desperate estate after we saw these sackes more often then gallowses. In those Citties where men are punished very seldome, euery one agreeth to liue innocently, and they entertaine inno­cencie as a publique good. Let the Cittie thinke her selfe innocent and she shal be: if she see the number of such as are dissolute is but small, shee is vexed the more. Beleeue me, it is a dangerous matter to let a Cittie see that there are more wicked then good.

CHAP. XXIIII.

THere was a decree set downe in times past by the Senate, He proueth for the third point both by simili­tudes and exam­ples, that punish­ments assure not good men. that our slaues and free-men should be distinguished by their attire, but af­terwards it appeared what danger was imminent if our seruants should haue begun to haue numbred vs. Know this, that if no man be pardoned, this is likewise to be feared, that it will quickly appeare what aduantage the worser part hath ouer the better: no lesse disho­nourable are many punishments to a Prince, then many funerals to a Physitian. He that gouerneth more mildely, is obeyed more willingly. Mans minde is naturally rebellious, ouerthwart and proude, he followeth more willingly then he is led. And as generous and noble horses are better guided by an easie bit, so voluntary innocence followeth Clemencie of her owne motion: in the Cittie this sweetnesse is a good that deserueth to bee maintayned. So then there is more gotten by following this way. Crueltie is humane euill, it is vnworthy so milde a minde: this is a beast-like rage to reioyce in bloud and wounds, and laying by the habite of a man, to translate himselfe to a wilde beast.

CHAP. XXV.

FOr tell me Alexander, I beseech thee, whether of these two is more strange, eyther that thou command Lysimach [...] to bee cast vnto the Lions, or that thou thy selfe teare him in pieces with thy eager teeth. The throat and crueltie of the Lion is thine owne. O how gladly wouldest thou haue had these clawes, and that great throat, capable to deuoure and swallow men? We request thee not that this hand of thine, which hath put to death three of thy deerest friends, should doe good to any man, nor that thy felon heart, the vnsatiable ruine of Nations should glut it selfe otherwise then in bloud and murthers: we will take it for thy Clemency, and so call it, if in murthering thy friend thou make choyce of an executioner amongst the number of men. This is the cause why crueltie is most of all to be abhorred, because she passeth the bonds, not onely of custome but of humanitie. She searcheth out new punishments, and applyeth her mind thereunto, she inuenteth instruments to multiply and prolong paine, and to con­tent her selfe in those torments which other men suffer. Then doth that dire sickenesse of the minde grow into most desperate rage, when crueltie is turned into pleasure, and to murther men is reputed a May [...]game. For such a man is attended by confusion, hatred [...], venoms, swords, by as many dangers is he assaul­ted [Page 602] as he is the danger of many men, and sometimes by priuate counsailes and sometimes by publique calamities he is surprised and circumuented. For the slight and priuate ouerthrow of some particulars, incenseth not whole Citties: that which beginneth to rage on euery side, and indifferently attempteth all men, armeth euery man against it. The smaller Serpents slip by vs; neyther are they much sought after, but if any one waxeth aboue ordinarie measure and bignesse, and becommeth a monster, when hee hath infected the fountaines by drinking in them, and scortched with his breath, and rent with his tallants whatsoeuer he treads vpon, we shoote at him with Bali [...]tils and Crosbowes. The smaller euils may speake faire and so escape, but wee make head against the great ones. If there be but one sicke in a house, it makes no great matter, but when it appeareth by the death of many that the plague is there, the Cittie cries out and euery man flies, and each man lifteth vp his handes to heauen. If some priuate house be set on fire, the neighbours bring in water and quench it; but when the fire is scattered abroad, and layes hold on many houses, it cannot be quenched but by the ruine of a part of the Cittie.

CHAP. XXVI.

He sheweth what danger it is for a man to take pleasure in cru­eltie, and how much good Prin­ces get by amia­ble and curteous entertainement. He concludeth that Clemencie is the fairest flower in their Garland. SEruile handes likewise haue reuenged the crueltie of particulars, although they saw their death before them. The cruelty of Ty­rants, the Nations, people & those that were oppressed, and such as were most neerely threatned thereby, haue attempted to con­found. Sometime their owne guards haue conspired against them, and exercised vpon them that perfidiousnesse, impiety, and cruelty which they themselues had learned of them. For what can any man hope from him whom he hath trained vp to be euill? wickednesse appeareth not long time, neyther sinneth she as much as she is commanded. But put case that crueltie be assured; what a Kingdome hath she? No other then the forme of sacked Citties, and the terrible faces of publique feare. All things are sad, troublesome and confused, euen the pleasures themselues are feared: they banquet not se­curely, and in their feasts though they be drunke they must haue a watch ouer their tongu [...]: they cannot trust their Theaters where men seeke occasions to accuse and put to death nowe this man, now that man [...] when their ban­quets be prepared with greater charge, and Kingly riches, and by the excellent inuention of cunning Artists, who is he, I pray you, that would take pleasure to depart from his sports to a prison? Good gods what a mischiefe is this, to kill, to rage, to delight in the noyse of shackles, to cut off Cittizens heads, to shedde bloud in euery place, wheresoeuer he commeth, to terrifie men and make them flie from his terrible lookes? What other life would there be if Lions & Beares did raigne? if Serpents and euery other noysome creature should haue power ouer vs? They being voyde of reason, and being condemned by vs for the crime of immanitie, abstaine from those of their owne kinde, yea, and similitude is a protection amongst the sauage beasts; but amongst men only rage forbareth not his deerest friends, but maketh one account of strangers as of home-bred, whereby he may more busily creepe into priuate mens slaughters, and after­wards into the ruine of Nations. He reputeth it to be for his royaltie to cast fire vpon houses, and to plough vp olde Citties: he beleeueth it to be scarce Kingly to command one or two to be slaine, except at one time a troope of mi­serable [Page 603] men stand subject to his sword, he accounteth his crueltie to bee infor­ced [...] not the Chariot [...] of barbarous Nations be sprinkled with bloud, no [...] spoyl [...]s g [...]tten i [...] warre [...] T [...]is i [...] a diu [...]ne power t [...] saue men by companies, and publikely: but to murther many, and they vnheard is the act of a Tyrant and Mur­therer.

The end of the first Booke of Clemencie.

A DISCOVRSE OF CLEMENCIE, WRITTEN BY LVCIVS ANNAEVS SENECA To NERO CAESAR. The second Booke.

The Argument of IVSTVS LIPSIVS.

ONce more hee praiseth NERO and his excellent voice. Then passeth hee ouer to the second part and sheweth the Nature of Clemencie, and de­fineth the same. He explaineth it the more by the contrarie vice, and bringeth forth Crueltie and describeth it. Afterwards he limiteth Cle­mencie, and will haue it remoued from Compassion, for this is a vice a­mongst [...] giue pardon, but to spare and to prouide for, and [...] is the end of the Booke, [...] things are wanting, [...] to be sorrowed for in so worthie a Tract: which had it not beene in my iudgement this s [...]cond Booke had, equalled t [...]e first.

CHAP. I.

He animateth Nero to con­tinue in his well begunne gouern­ment, with that plac [...]bilitie hee hath thetherto vsed, he secon­deth his Coun­sailes with praises which serue as spurres to a good minde. THat which most chiefly mooued mee Nero Caesar to addresse and dedicate this discourse of Cle­men [...]i [...] vnto thee, was a speech of thine which not only rauishe [...] mee with admiration, at such [...]ime as I hard it, but as when afterwards I recited it to others. A generous speech, the argumēt of a great mind and greater lenitie [...] which was not stu­died for o [...] fitted to flatter other mens eares, but sodainly brake forth; and brought thy beautie that cōtended with thy Fortune into the publike eye and censure of all men. Burrus a Captaine of thy Gard, a man of honour and knowne by vs for such a one, hauing charge to carrie two theefs to execution, laboured, that thou wouldest signe the sentence that was giuen against them both: which being deferred diuers times, he insi­sted at last that it might be dispatched. But after that, to thy owne hearts-griefe [Page 605] and thy dist [...]st h [...] had drawne the writing out of his bosome, and deliuered it into thy hands thou cryedst out [...] I would I could neyther reade nor write. O speech worthie to bee heard by all those Nations that inhabite the Romane Empire, and by those neighbour Countries, that are scarcely assured of their libertie, and by those likewise who both in minde and might arme themselues against their prosperitie. O verie worthie to be reuiued in the open assembly of all li­uing men, and whereof Kings and Princes might make vse when they should tak [...] their oath vnto th [...]ir Subiects. O speech worthie the ancient innocencie of Mankind, in [...]auour whereof the former ag [...]s should wax yong againe. Tru­ly this is the bodie wherein all of vs ought to accord in equitie and Clemencie, driuing far from v [...] this coueteousnesse to enjoy other mens fortunes, whence all the infirmities of the minde doe aris [...]. Now it is that pietie, integritie, loy­altie, and mod [...]stie, should lift [...]p [...]heir heads [...] and that vices which haue so ty­ [...]nnously dominered ouer v [...] long time, should finally quit their place, and re­signe it to an ag [...] more happie and pure.

CHAP. II.

I Dare well hope and promise Caesar that the greater part hereof shall come to pass [...]. He presageth the continuance of Neroes Cle­mencie, to the comfort of his Subiects and the amase of his ene­mies. This Clemencie of thin [...] shall by little and little be published, and spread thorow all the bodie of thine Empire, and all thinges shall conforme themselues according to the example which thou giuest them. Good health proceedeth from the head, and afterwardes causeth that all the members are nimble and strong, as contrariwise they languish, if the spirit that quickneth them, bee a­mated. And both thy Cittizens and associates shall be worthie of this bountie, and good maners shal be re-established thorow out the whole World, & shal be extended in euerie place. Suffer me to insist a little longer one this point, not to the intent to [...] flatter thine cares, for it is not my custome. I had rather offend thee in speaking truth, then please thee by flatterie. What is the cause then, why I desire thou shouldest bee so familiarly exercised in the knowledge of thy good words and actions? Truly no other but that one day thou mayest say and doe that with judgment, which now thou sayst and doest by a naturall aptitude of thy minde. This consider I with my selfe that many great, but they detestable speeches of Princes are entred into mens hearts, and are ordi­narie in their mouthes as this.

With deadly hate let them pursue me,
Prouided alwayes that they feare me.

Whereunto resembleth that Greeke verse who willeth that when he is dead,

The solid Earth should with the fire be mixt.

And others of this kinde: But I know not how such spirits, so prodigious and so hatefull, haue expressed their violent and furious conceits in a more plentiful manner. I haue neuer as yet heard a proud word vttered by a good and merci­full Prince. What is it then that thou art to doe? Forsooth this, that as slackly as thou mayest and with some remorse; and with some delayes also vntill such [Page 606] time as thou art inforced thereunto, thou write that which draweth thee in hatred of good letters, yet so as thou doest in temporizing and delaying diuers times.

CHAP. III.

What Clemencie is, and the defi­nitions thereof. BVT least some time this goodly and pleasing name of Clemencie should happily deceiue vs, let vs see what Clemencie is, what a one she is, and to what end she tendeth Clemencie then is a modera­tion of the minde, that restraineth the power which [...] man hath to reuenge himselfe, or it is a gracious moderation of the superiour towards his inferiour, in establishing of punishment. The surest way shall bee to set downe diuers definitions, for feare least one suffice not to expresse the same, and that the forme thereof (if we may so speake) escape vs not. One may therefore say, that it is an inclination of the minde, tending to shew himselfe mercifull when he ought to chastise. This definition will haue some oppositi­on, although it bee such a one as draweth nearest the truth. If wee say that Cle­mencie is a moderation remitting somewhat of the punishment which is de­serued and due, some one will reply that there is not any vertue that doth lesse then she ought. But all men know that Clemencie is that vertue which reb [...] ­teth some what of that which she might exact. They of weakest judgment sup­pose that seueritie is opposed against it, but neuer was one vertue contrarie to another.

CHAP. IIII.

Of Crueltie op­posed against Clemencie, and the definitions and kinds there­of laid open by examples. WHat therfore is opposed to Clemencie? Crueltie which is no other thing then a crueltie of minde in exacting punishments. But there are some that are cruell although, they doe not punish any: such as they are who kill men whom they neuer saw, but met with in the way, not to the intent to lessen the number, but kil­ling them because they tooke pleasure in killing. Moreouer not content to mur­ther, they tortured more bodies as Busir is Procrustes did, and those Pirates who first of all beate their prisoners and afterwards burne them to death and dust. Truely this is crueltie, but because it followeth not reuenge (for she was not in­jured) neyther is displeased at any mans offence (for no crime hath ouerslipped before) it is not comprised in our definition, which definition contayned an in­temperance of the minde in exacting punishment. Wee may well say that this is not crueltie, but beastly furie which taketh pleasure to torment the bodie, and we may likewise call it madnesse, for their bee diuers kindes thereof, and none more certaine then that which extendeth it selfe to murther and massacre men. I will therefore call them cruell, who haue no occasion to punish, yet such as keepe no measure, such as Phalaris was, who not contenting himselfe with putting innocents to death [...] exceeded in his executions all humane and proba­ble measure. We may to auoid all [...]ill, say this crueltie is an inclination of the minde vnto most grieuous punishments. Clemencie driueth this crueltie farre of from her, because she hath better correspondence with seueritie. It is verie pertinent to the matter to enquire in this place what mercie is, for diuers men [Page 607] prayse her for a vertue: A paradoxe of the Stoickes, which Aristotle answereth in the fourth of his E­thickes and Mor [...]als. and call a good man mercifull. But this is an imperfe­ction of the minde, Crueltie and Mercie are the two extreames of Seueritie and Clemencie, we must flie both, the one and the other, for feare least vnder ap­pearance of Seueritie we become cruell, and vnder colour of Clemencie shew our selues mercifull. There is not so great danger herein, but they that fall into one extremitie are as much out of the way, as they that fall into the other.

CHAP. V.

EVen as therefore Religion reuerenceth the gods, In this Chapter, he maintaineth the Doctrine of the Stoickes, A­gainst affection, approouing that those Philoso­phers were not so vnnaturall as they were repor­ted to be. so Superstition violateth them, so all good men should shew Clemencie and Meeknesse, but auoid mercie. For it is nought else but a base­nesse of the heart which melteth in beholding an other mans miseries. It is therefore most familiar to those of the basest mettals and mindes. Such as are old women and tender hearted females, who weepe to see them weepe, that are condemned, who would willingly breake vp prisons, if so be they were permitted to doe it. Mercie regardeth not the cause but the condition, but Clemencie is conjoyned with reason; I know that a­mongst ignorant men, the sect of the Stoickes is condemned, for being ouer se­uere and such a one as could not giue good counsailes to Kings and Princes. For it is obiected against them that they will not suffer the wise man to vse mercie, and to pardon. These objections considered a part, and by themselues are o­dious. For this were to cast all those headlong into despaire that haue offended, and to subject all offences to punishment. If this bee so, who are more seuere then this sect, which forbiddeth vs to remember that we are men; and exclude mutuall helpe which is the assuredest Hauen against the tempest of Fortune. But I say that there is no sect more benigne and gentle then this is, nor that lo­ueth men better, nor that is more intent to the good of all men, in such sort as all the scope thereof, is to serue, succour and procure the good, not only of his Schollers, but also of all other men as well in generall as in particular. Mercie is an infirmitie of the minde, by reason of the appearance of other mens mise­ [...]ies, or a sadnesse conceiued for the euils an other man suffereth, and supposeth that he suffereth them wrongfully. For a wise man neyther troubleth nor tor­menteth himselfe, his vnderstanding is alwayes cleere, neyther can any thing happen that may obscure the light thereof. Nothing becommeth a man more then greatnesse of courage; But hee cannot haue a noble heart, that feare and sorrow may animate it, or any of these passions obscure or contract it. This shall not befall a wiseman; no, not in his calamities, but he shall dart backe a­gaine all these arrowes that Fortune hath shot against him, and shall breake them before her face. He shall retaine one and the same countenance, alwaies both peaceable and constant, which hee might not doe if sorrow were lodged in his heart. Ad hereunto that a wiseman is prouident, and hath his counsell in a readinesse; But that which is cleare and pure, neuer proceedeth from sadnesse, which is a trouble of the Soule, and is not proper to examine any action; nor to inuent profitable things, neither oportunely to auoide dangers. So then a wiseman is not mooued with sadnesse for an others miserie, because hee is ex­empt from miserie; but otherwise, he will willingly and with a ioyfull heart, do all that which the mercifull would doe against their wills.

CHAP. VI.

The description of a wise man according to the doctrine of the Stoick [...]s. HE will assist his neighbour that weepeth, without weeping him­selfe; he will lend him his hand that is in danger to be drowned; hee will lodge him that is famished, feede him that is poore, not with out-rage, as for the most part they doe, who would bee e­steemed mercifull, who disdaine and repulse the poore when they aide them, and fearing least they should touch them, but as a man to a man he will giue, as out of the common purse. He shall pardon the Sonne for his Mothers teares, command his greiues to bee loosed; he shall preserue him from the furie of wild beasts, to whose rage he should haue beene exposed, to the content and pleasure of the people, hee will burie the carkies of him that was condemned; But he will doe all this with a peaceable minde, and without change of countenance. He will not therefore be mooued, but will helpe, will profit, as being borne for the common good and the seruice of the Common-weale, whereof he will giue euery one his apart. Yea, he will extend his bountie to the miserable by proportion, and will reforme such as are wicked and to be amended. But to those that are afflicted and oppressed, he will yeeld his assist­ance more willingly. As often as he may, he will not suffer aduersities to touch them. For how might he better imploy his forces and riches, then in relieuing those whom the inconstancie of worldly affaires hath ouerthrowne. Hee will neither be abashed nor dismaide, to behold the disfigured face of a sicke man, or a begger, or of an olde man leaning on his staffe, but hee will assist all those likewise that deserue, and after the maner of the gods, behold with a bounti­full eye the poore that are oppressed. Mercie is a neere neighbour to miserie, for shee hath, and draweth somewhat from her. Know that those eyes are weake which are bloudshot themselues, in beholding another mans suffusion: euen as assuredly we ought not to call them ioyfull but sicke, who cough vpon euery occasion, and that yawne as soone as they perceiue an other man open his mouth. Mercie is an imperfection of the minde, that is too much affectio­ned vnto miserie, which if a man seeke for in a wise man, it were as much as if he should require him to crie out at the Funeralls of those whome hee neuer heard of. It remaineth to declare why a wise man pardoneth not.

CHAP. VII.

A qu [...]stion de­pending on the [...]orme [...] discourse, wheth [...]r a wise man pardoneth? He answereth by distinction to maintaine that which he said of Mercie. LEt vs now set downe likewise what pardon is, to the ende we may know that a wise man ought not to giue it. Pardon is a remission of deserued punishments. But why a wise man ought not to pardon, is fully debated by those who decide this matter to the full. For mine owne part to speake shortly, as in a matter reser­ued to an other mans iudgement, I say that he is pardoned that should be pu­nished. But a wise man doth nothing but that he ought, neither pretermitteth any thing of his duetie, and therefore hee quitteth not the punishment which he ought to exact, but that which thou wouldest obtaine by the meanes of par­don, he giueth thee by a more honest expedient. For hee supporteth, counsai­leth, correcteth, and doth as much as if he pardoned, although he pardon not, because he that pardoneth, confesseth that hee hath omitted something which [Page 609] ought to be done. He will be contented to admonish some without chastising them, considering that they are old enough to amend. Hee will dismisse an o­ther in safetie, although he be apparently guiltie, because he hath beene decei­ued, and fell into the offence being drowned in wine. He will dismisse his ene­mies in safetie, and sometimes with commendations, if they haue vndertaken Warre vpon honest grounds, as for their f [...]ith, confederate [...] or libertie. These are not the workes of Pardon but of Clemenci [...] Clemencie hath [...]ree will, shee iudgeth not according to vse and custome, but according to equitie and r [...]ght, and shee may absolue and taxe the charges at what rate shee listeth. Hee doth none of these things, as if hee had done any thing lesse then iust [...] but as if that which he had co [...]stituted were most iust; [...]ut to [...]ardon is [...]is, [...]ot to [...]nish those things which thou iudgest worthy of punishment. Pardon is the remissi­on of a deserued punishment. Clemencie effec [...]eth this principally, that shee declareth those whom she dismisseth to be exempted from the punishmēt they should suffer. Shee is therefore more accomplished and honest then pardon. In my iudgement, the controuersie is vpon the word not vpon the matter. A wise man will forgiue many things, and saue many that are scarcely wi [...]e, yet such as may become capabl [...]. Hee will imitate good husbandmen, who not onely cherish straight and tall trees, but applieth vnder-props likewise to vp­hold those which are made crooked by some accident. They loppe some lest the ouer-thicknesse of their bowes doe hinder their grouth, they nourish some that are infirme by reason of the sterrilitie of the soyle, and to those that spring vnder the thicknesse of a couert, they giue them open ayre. According to these, a wise man shall see how hee ought to en­tertaine euery nature, and by what meanes those that are depraued, may be strengthened and straight­ned. Many things are here wanting.

The end of the second Booke of Clemencie.

A TRACT OF BLES­SED LIFE, WRITTEN BY LVCIVS ANNAEVS SENECA TO IVNIVS GALLO HIS BROTHER.

The Argument of IVSTVS LIPSIVS.

HEe wrote this Booke when he was olde, and set it downe for an Apologie against those that calumniated his welth and behauiour. He approoueth that Blessed life consisteth in vertue, yet that shee despiseth not these ex­ternall things if they befall her. It is a loftie writing, and excellent in the parts thereof, and because it containeth golden sentences and excellent sayings. There are two parts thereof; First, what Blessed life is, and how a man may at­taine thereunto. As touching the former, he denieth that it is to be sought, either in Opinion or Maners; if we keepe the ordinarie way, we stray the farther from her. Rea­son onely is to be giuen care vnto, [...] saith that B [...]essed life is agr [...]ble to [...], that is placed in vertue, not in pleasure a [...] EPICVRVS [...]ld haue it, No [...] and diff [...]edly he refelleth this with the slaues thereof; so farre as h [...] will neither haue pleasur [...] ioyned with vertue, but abolisheth this name vtterly; This till the sixteenth Chapter. Thence followeth the other part to the attainement therof [...] therefore [...]s o [...]ly Vertue to be embra­ced. And are the rest to be despised? He denieth it; He saith that externall things may be admitted, but not as the end. Yea, [...]ee maint [...]eth, that the [...] wh [...] as yet are but in the way, and amongst the number of those that are pr [...]ient, ha [...]e neede of some indul­gence of fortune. Here cunningly and [...]anfully enough defendeth he his owne cause, and induceth an aduersarie to say: Why hast thou [...] of Vert [...]? hast thou not other helpes. Why hast thou seruants, Mo [...]ey, F [...]r [...]s, and H [...]shold-stuffe? Hee answereth diuersly? And first of all that he is [...] wise man, but that hee endeuoureth to be wise. Afterwards for these worthy men, PLATO, ZE [...]LO, ARISTOTLE, against whom in times past these were obiected. Vertue is a [...]igh matter; They are to bee honoured who labour to ascend, although du [...]ing their [...], they fall [...]r are hindred. Then purposely speaketh he of Riches, whether a wise [...] ought to haue them; From the one and twentie Chapter. And he auerreth that they are had but not beloued, yet gotten ho­nestly [Page 611] that they are, and must be spent b [...]tifully [...] Hee whetteth his Stile against th [...]se l [...]ng-tongued bablers, and vnder the person of SOCRATES, armeth the edge of [...]is Stile against them [...] But the end is wanting, and those things that are vsually added, are of an other mans writing, and of a different Argument [...]

CHAP. I.

ALL men brother Gallio are desirous to liue happi­ly, It sufficeth not to desire happi­nesse, we ought to know what true happinesse is, and after­wards by what m [...] we at­tai [...]e thereunto. yet blinde are they in [...]ore-seeing that which maketh the life blessed & happy: and so difficult a matter is it to attaine this blessed life, that the swifter euery man is caried with adesire to com­passe her, the farther off departeth hee from her, if he haue failed in the way: which when it lea­deth vs to the contrarie, the very swiftnesse ther­of is the cause of our greater distance from her. First of all therefore we ought to consider what that is which we require: then to looke about vs by what way wee may more speedily attaine thereunto, being assured that in our journie (so the way bee true and straight) to vndrstand how much wee haue daily profited, and howe neerer wee are vnto that whereunto our naturall desire impelleth vs. As long as wee wander hether and th­ther and followe not our guide, but the dissonant bruite and clamour of of those that call on vs to vndertake different wayes, our short life is wearied and worne away amongst errours [...] although we labour day and night to get vs a good minde. Let vs therefore aduise both, whether wee tend, and by which way we pretend; and walke forward vnder the conduct of some wise man who is exactly instructed and practized in those pathes which wee are to tract. For the condition of this voyage is farre different from other peregrinations: for in them if any certain [...] place be limited, and we doe but inquire and question with the inhabitants of that place, they will not suffer vs to wander; for here the worst way, and that which seemeth the most shortest and vsuall doth most of all deceiue vs. There is nothing, therefore that is more to be preuented by vs, then that we follow not like innocent sheepe, the troope of those that walke before vs, walking forward not whether we should addresse themselues, but whether we are led by other men. But there is nothing that entangleth vs in greater mi­series, then that we couple & apply our selues to euerie rumour, supposing those thinges to be the best which is most approued and receiued by the conceit of all men, and wherof there are most examples, and liue not according to reason, but only according to other mens fashion. From thence proceedeth this so great heape of men tumbling one vpon an other. That which falleth out in a great presse of men, when the people themselues, throng themselues, where no man so falleth, but that he draweth downe an other after him, and the foremost are the cause of the ruine of those that follow: this mayst thou obserue, and see it fall out in euerie estate of life. There is no man that erreth to himselfe, but is eyther the cause or Authour of other mens errour. For much are we hurt be­cause wee apply our selues to those that goe before vs, and whilest euerie man had rather belieue, then judge, wee neuer [...]udge of our liues but content our selues alwayes to belieue: thus errour deliuered vnto vs from hand to hand, [Page 612] vexeth and ouerturneth vs, and wee perish by other mens examples. But wee shall be healed, prouided only that we separate our selues from the vulgar, but now the people stand out against reason in defence of their owne errour. This therefore commeth to passe that is vsuall in Common Assemblies, wherein, those men whose voices made the Pretor, admire to heare him named; when the inconstant fauour of such a multitude hath whirled it selfe about. Wee ap­proue and condemne one and the same thing. This is the end of all judgments in decision whereof diuers men giue their opinions.

CHAP. II.

He taxeth those who think them­selues wel go [...]er­ned if they [...]ollow the multitude. WHen the question is of happie life, thou must not answere mee ac­cording to the custome of those debates which are censured by voyces. This part seemeth the greater; for therefore is it the worst: Humane affaires are not disposed so happily that the best things please the most men. It is an argument of the worst cause when the common sort applaudeth it. Let vs enquire what is best done, not what is most vsually done; and what planteth vs in the possession of eternall felicitie, not what is ordinarily allowed of by the multitude, which is the worst inter­preter of truth. I call the multitude, as well those that are attired in white, as those that are clothed other wayes, for I examine not the colours of the gar­ments wherewith the bodies are clothed, I trust not mine eyes, to informe me what a man is, I haue a more better and truer light, whereby I shal distinguish truth from falshood. Let the soule find out the good of the soule. If once she may haue breathing time to retire her selfe into her selfe, O how will shee con­fesse vnto her selfe, after she hath beene examined by her selfe and say: What­so [...]uer I haue done, yet I had rather it should be vndone; Whatsoeuer I haue said when I recollect it, I am ashamed of it in others; Whatsoeuer I wished I repute it to be the execration of mine enemies; Whatsoeuer I feared, good gods, how better was it then that which I desired? I haue quarrelled with many men, and (if any societie be amongst euill men) I haue altered their hatreds and drawne my selfe into fauour with them; and yet as yet I am not friendes with my selfe. I haue indeuoured to the vttermost to get in fauour with the multi­tude, and make my selfe knowne vnto euerie man by some noble action: what other thing did I but oppose my selfe against weapons, and shew hatred a place wherein he might bite me? Seest thou these who praise eloquence, that follow riches, that [...]latter authoritie, that extoll power? all these are enemies or can be enemies, for in effect they are all one. How great soeuer the number be of those that admire, as great is there number who doe enuie.

CHAP. III.

Since we seek for that good which is truly a [...]d not apparanth good, let vs not deriue our example, ey­ther from the [...]x­terior ap [...]ear [...]ce or the publike ap­plause. WHY rather seeke I not some thing out, which is good in vse that I may finde in my minde, not shew in outward appearance? These things where at we gaze, these things whereat we [...]taie, and with admiration one man sheweth vnto another, doe out­wardly shine, but are inwardly miserable. Let vs seeke our some­what that is good not in appearance, but solide and vnited, and fairest in that [Page 613] which appeareth the least. Let vs discouer this, neyther is it farre from vs, wee shall finde it. Yet hadst thou need to know whether thou shouldest stretch thy hand. But [...]ow as if we were in darknes we passe by these things that are neerest vs, and stumble vpon those things which we desire. But least I draw thee thorow a Labyrinth I will let slippe other mens opinions, for it were too long a matter to reckon them vp and confute them, and let thee know our owne. And when I tell thee ours, I will not tie my selfe to any one of our principall Stoickes: I haue authoritie enough to speake what I thinke, I will therefore follow some one, I will command another to giue a reason of his, and happily being cited after all others, I will disalow none of those things which the former haue de­creed, and I will say: This thinke I ouer and beside, and in the meane while fol­lowing the common consent of the Stoickes; I will consent to Nature which is the mother of all thinges. For it is wisedome not to wander from her, but to forme our selues according to her Law and Example. The life then is happie which is according to her nature, which can no otherwise happē thē if the mind be first of all sound, and in perpetuall possession of her health. Againe, if shee be strong, and vehement, and fierce, and patiently likewise apt for the times, cu­rious of the bodie, and those thinges that appertaine thereunto, yet not ouer carefull or diligent in those things which maintaine life, disposed to vse the pre­sents of Fortune, without admiration of any thing: without wondering at a­ny of them, no wayes inclined to seruitude. Thou vnderstandest although I aime it not, that from thence there followeth a perpetuall tranquilitie and li­bertie, driuing away farre from vs all those things that eyther prouoke or terri­fie vs much. For instead of the fraile pleasures, (and for those thinges that are small and friuolous, and that hurt vs at that time, when wee make vse of them [...] to satisfie our passions) there succeedeth an excellent joy assured, and a continnall peace and repose of the soule, and a greatnesse of the minde ac­companied with mildnesse. For all furie proceedeth from infirmitie.

CHAP. IIII.

A Man may likewise define our good after an other sort that is to say expresse the same thing in other termes. The diuers d [...] ­finitions of a happie life. Euen as one and the same Armie sometimes spreddeth it selfe out at large, sometimes restraineth and locketh vp her selfe in a little place, eyther ben­deth her selfe like a Crescent with hornes on eyther side and hollow in the midst; or marcheth in a Batalion hauing wings to warrant them, and howsoeuer she is disposed, yet hath she alwayes the same force and resolu­tion to maintaine the partie for which she is leuied, so our definition of the So­ueraigne good may sometimes be extended out a farre, sometimes comprised in few words and gathered as it were into it selfe. It will all come to one if I say: The Soueraigne good is a minde despising casualties, and content with vertue: or an inuincible force of the minde well experienced in the affaires of this. World, peaceable in his actions, full of humanitie and regard of those with whom she conuerseth. It pleaseth vs likewise to define it thus, that we cal him a blessed man, who esteemeth nothing eyther good or euil, except a mind eyther good or euill, a respecter of honestie, content with vertue, whom neyther ca­sualties extol nor depresse, who knowes no other greater good then that which he can giue himselfe, who reputeth it for a true pleasure to contemne pleasures. Thou maiest if thou wilt expatiate, turne this definition into one or two other [Page 614] sorts prouided that the principall remaine. For what forbiddeth vs to esteeme him happie that hath his spirit free, raysed, assured, and firme, estranged from all feare and desire, that esteemeth nothing but vertue and disdaineth nothing but vice? All other the base multitude of things, neyther detracting any thing nor adding ought to blessed life, come and goe without increase or detained of the chiefest good. He that hath layed so good a foundation, shall bee alwayes followed whether he will or no, with a continuall joy, with a profound content that proceedeth from excellent thoughts, because hee contenteth himselfe which hee possesseth, neyther desireth any more then that hee hath at home why should he make a scruple to change willingly the light friuolous and assu­ [...]ed, motions and pleasures of the bodie with goods, so certaine as these other are? that day hee shall recence no pleasure that very day shall hee conceiue no griefe.

CHAP. V.

He confuteth those that set their felicitie on pleasures of the bodie, and defineth what a happie man is. THou maist then see into what dangerous a [...]d miserable seruitude he falleth who suffereth pleasures and sorrowes (two vnfaithfull and cruell commanders) to posses [...] him successiuely. We must therefore issue out and find libertie and this doth no other thing giue vs then the neglect of Fortune. Then shall that inestimable good arise, namely the repose of the minde retired into an assured place, and mounted so high that she seeth all the mists of errours incontinently, scatter themselues in such sort that from the knowledge of the truth, there proceedeth a great and constant joy a sweetnesse and freedome of conscience wherein the vertuous man shall take pleasure not as they are goods, but as the fruits which proceed from the ground of that good which is in him. Because I haue begunne to discourse liberally, I say that he may be called blessed, who by the benefite of his reason, neyther feareth nor desireth any thing. I make mention of reason because stones, and beasts are both of them destitute of feare and sadnesse, and yet no man will say that they are happie Creatures, because they haue no sence or vnderstanding of felicitie, put into this ranke, those men whose dulnesse of nature, and ignorance of themselues hath drawne them into the number of sheepe and beasts. There is no difference betwixt these and them, because the one haue no reason and the other their reason depraued, and if she discourseth it is onely to weaken and ruinate her selfe. For no man can be called blessed, who is exiled from the truth. That therefore is a blessed life which is grounded vpon an vpright, certaine, and immutable judgment. For then is the minde pure, and ex [...]mpt from all euils; when it hath no feeling of any rentings or prickings. Whatsoeuer resolued to persist there, wheresoeuer she is setled, and resolute to maintaine her abode, in spight of wrathfull and r [...]pyning Fortune. For in re­gard of plesure, although it be dispersed in euery place, although she come from euery part, and trie and attempt by all meanes whereby she may intangle vs, [...]yther in whole or in part: what man is he amongst men that hath any impre [...]ssion of manhood in him, that will suffer himselfe to bee flattered and tickled therewith day and night, and forsaking the soule, will haue a care of the bodie?

CHAP. VI.

BVT the soule likewise (saith hee) shall haue her pleasures. An answer vnto these that would confound the pleasures of the bodie and the soule together. Let her enjoy them, and let her sit as Iudge ouer dissolution and plea­sures. Let her glut herselfe withall those thinges that are wont to delight the sences. Furthermore, let her looke backe to those things that are past, and remembring her selfe of her decaied plea­sures let her enjoy those that are nee [...]est her, extend her hand to the [...]uture, ru­ling her hopes, and lifting vp her thoughts to that which is to come whilest the bodie tumbleth in delights and surfets. This in my judgment is a meere mise­rie, because it is a madnesse to imbrace the euill in stead of the good. Neyther is any man blessed without health, neyther any man healthie, that longeth for hurtfull, and letted healthfull things passe. He therefore is blessed, who hath a right judgmēt. Blessed is he that is contented with the present whatsoeuer they be, that is a friend to his owne affaires, blessed is hee who in the gouernment of his whole life giueth [...]are vnto reason. As for those that haue said that the So­ueraigne good consisteth in pleasure it behoueth them to consider how sordid and abject a place it is wherein they haue lodged a thing so precious. For their excuse they alleadge that a man cannot separate pleasure from Vertue, and they say likewise that no man can liue honestly except hee bee pleasant and jouiall: and that to be joyfull and honest, is one and the same thing. Yet see I not how these two things may be coupled together. And why I pray you may not plea­sure be deuided from vertue? Forsooth, because euery beginning of good pro­ceedeth from Vertue. From the rootes hereof euen these things spring which you loue, and desire so much. But if these were inseperable, wee should not see that somethinges are pleasing, but yet not honest, and some things most honest but difficult and such as may not be recouered but by dolour and paine.

CHAP. VII.

ADde hereunto likewise that pleasure intermixeth it selfe with a most vicious life, A continuation of the former re­futation where he sheweth that pleasure is in­compatible with Vertue, and con­sequētly i [...], which is estranged from the chiefest good. but vertue admitteth it not: It is with pleasure yea for pleasures sake that some are vnhappie. Which would not come to passe, if pleasure had intermixed it selfe with vertue, which vertue often misseth neuer needeth. Why vnite you thinges different, nay more, contrarie. Vertue is a thing high, kingly, inuincible, infatigable; pleasure hum­ble, seruile, weake, fraile, whose actions and bou [...]ds are Tauernes and Brothell houses. You shall find Vertue in the Temple, in the market place, in the Court, in the Court of Guard smoutered in dust, [...]d with heat, hauing hard hands: pleasure of times lying hidden and affecting darknesse about bathes and Hot-houses, and such places as feare the Constable, daintie, eff [...]minate, souzed in Wine, and P [...]rfumes, pale, painted, and [...]e [...]abor [...]d with medicine. Th [...] chiefest good is immortall, it cannot perish, neyther hath it satietie, ney­ther repentance, for the just mind is neuer al [...]ered [...] he is neuer hatefull to him­selfe, neyther being her selfe the best, hath [...] ch [...]nged any thing. But pleasure at that time when she most delighteth [...] is extinguished [...] Neyther taketh shee vp great roome, and therefore she quickly filleth and loatheth, and after the first assault pineth away, and as their is nothing c [...]taine, whose nature is in motion [Page 616] so can there not bee any substance of that thing that commeth and passeth quickly, and such as is like to perish in the verie vse thereof. For he hath attai­ned thether where he should end, and in beginning hee alreadie regardeth the end.

CHAP. VIII.

In continuing his refutation, he declareth what this maner of speech meaneth, that to liue hap­pily, and accor­ding to Nature, is one and the same thing. FVrthermore the euill haue their pleasures, as well as the good. And the basest take no lesse contentment in their absurdities, then great men doe in things that are excellent. And therefore the An­cients haue commanded, that we should follow the better and not the most pleasing life. For Nature must gouerne vs, she it is that ruleth and counsaileth reason. To liue then happily and according to Nature is one and the same thing. I will now tell you what this is. If wee carefully and confidently conserue the goods of the bodie, according as wee ought, and as they are agreeable vnto Nature, as gifts that haue no continuance, but commu­nicable, from day to day: If wee inthrall our selues not to their seruitude, and if those that haue beene distributed to our neighbours possesse vs not [...] if that which is agreeable vnto vs, and giuen vs as an ouerplus to the bodie serueth vs only in that Nature, as spies and forlorne hopes in an Armie: in briefe, if they serue vs and command vs not, then may wee say that they are profitable and necessarie for the soule. A man that is entire ought not to be surmounted with exteriour things, he must admire nothing but himself, he ought to be confident, disposed against all casualties, a composer of his own life, and see that his resolu­tion be accompanied with science and constancie, that that which he once hath conceiued, remain vnaltered, and that no exception accompanie his resolution. It is vnderstood likewise although I adde it not, that such a man bee addressed and ordered as he ought, gracious and magnificent in all his entertainments the true reason shall be ingrafted in his sences, and take from thence his principles. For from thence it is and from no other place, that shee extendeth her selfe, to apprehend the truth, and afterwardes returneth into her selfe. The VVorld likewise that imbraceth and comprehendeth all things, and God who is the Go­uernour of this World, extendeth himselfe truly to exterior things, and yet hee returneth in euerie part intirely into himselfe. Let our minde doe the like, that after shee hath serued the senses, and by the meanes thereof, hath extended it selfe to externall things, she may possesse her selfe, in briefe that she may l [...]e and stay her selfe vpon the chiefest good. By this meanes shee shall become a facultie and power according with her selfe; and that certaine reason shall arise which is neither shaken nor extrauagant in her opinion [...], apprehensions or perswasions, but being well ordered and well agreed with her parts with which shee saith, (if we may so say) in the same time, shee hath attained the fulnes of her felicitie. For shee hath no way that is rugged or slipperie to passe thorow, neyther any wherein she may stumble or fall. She shall doe all that which she listeth, and no­thing shall befall her that is vnexspected, but all that which she shall doe shall turne to her good, easily, addressedly, and without delay. For idlenesse and want of resolution discouer contradiction and inconstancie; thou maiest therefore boldly maintaine that the peace of conscience is the Soueraigne good, because it must needes follow, that the vertues remaine there where consent and vnion haue their abode, vices at are oddes amongst themselues.

CHAP. IX.

BVT thou likewise (saith he) honourest Vertue for no other cause but for that thou expectest some pleasure thereby. The peace of Consc [...]ence is the chiefest good, but Seneca place [...]h this peace in the siedge of humane reas [...]n, which we must beare with all in a S [...]oicke and a Pagan, who knew not what the gift of regeneration was First Vertue is not therefore sought after, because shee bringeth with her some pleasure, for she produceth it not, and yet is not without it. Ney­ther labo [...]reth she for this, but her labour is, although she hath an other aime to attaine this likewise. Euen as in a field that is ploughed vp for Corne, some flowers spring vp amongst the good graines, and yet no labour is bestowed on this herbe, although it delight [...]he eye. The purpose of him that sowed the Corne was farre otherwise, this came by chance: so pleasure is not the reward or cause of Vertue but an accession vnto Vertue. Neither is it plea­sing because it delighteth; but because it is pleasing it delighteth. The chie­fest good consisteth and is grounded on iudgement & the habit of a good mind, which hauing fulfilled his habitude, and confined himself within his limits, the chiefest good is consummate, neither desireth any other thing more. For with­out all them is nothing, no more then beyond the end. Thou art therefore de­ceiued when thou askest me, what that is for which I require Vertue: for thou seekest for somewhat that is aboue the chiefest. Thou askest mee what I pre­tend from Vertue? her selfe: for nothing is better, she is the reward of her selfe. Is this a small thing, when I say vnto thee, that the Soueraigne good is an in­flexible vigour, a prouidence, a firme disposition, a libertie, a concord, and beau­tie of the soule? doest thou looke for any thing more, whereunto these may be referred? why namest thou pleasure vnto me? I seeke for the good of a man, not of the belly, which is more disordered then any bruit beast.

CHAP. X.

THou pretendest to be ignorant (saith he) of that which I say: That there is neither content nor ioy in the pleasures of this world, when they are neuer so litle separated from Vertue, which maketh vse of those pleasures with moderation For I denie that any man may liue pleasingly, except he liue honestly likewise: which cannot befall bruit beastes, which measure their good by their bellies. I protest I tell thee both painely and pub­liquely, that this life which I call pleasant, cannot consist without the adjection of Vertue. But who knoweth not that euen the very foolishest amongst you are the fullest of pleasure, and that iniquitie aboundeth in delight, and that the minde it selfe not only suggesteth some kindes of pleasure, but al­so many? First insolence and ouer great esteeme of a mans selfe, a pride surpas­sing all other, a blind and improuident loue of that which a man hath, affluent delights, a joy proceeding from trifling and childish occasions, detraction, and arrogancie, rejoycing in contumelies, sloth and dissolution of the sluggish mind; that is benummed in it selfe. But these doth Vertue discusse, shee puls vs by the eare, and estimateth pleasures before she admi [...] them, neyther careth she much for those, she hath entertained, (although she admit them) neyther is deligh­ted in the vse of them, but temperance is joyfull: but when as temperance di­minisheth pleasures, she injurieth the chiefest good in medling with the same. Thou imbracest pleasure, I moderate it. Thou enjoyest pleas [...]r [...] I vse it: Thou thinkest it to bee the chiefest good I scarcely de [...]me it good. Thou doest all [Page 618] things for pleasures sake and I nothing when I say that I doe nothing for plea­sures sake I speake of that Wise man to whome alone thou grantest pleasure.

CHAP. XI.

That the volup­tuous person is not wise, and consequently is depriu [...]d of ver­tue and hath no part in Blessed Life. BVT I call not him a wise man that is subject to any passion a­boue all things, if he be a vassall to pleasure. For being subject vnto her how shall he resist labour, danger, pouertie, and so ma­ny tempests as storme about this life? how shall hee indure the sight of death and sorrow, how shall hee sustaine the assaults of this World & of so many other dreadful aduersaries, if he be conquered by such an effeminate enemie? He will doe all that which pleasure perswadeth him vn­to. Go to: seest thou not how manie follies she will perswade him to. Shee can­not saist thou perswade any thing vndecently, because she is accompanied with Vertue. Seest thou not againe what the chiefest good should be if he had neede of such a Guard to make him good. But how can Vertue gouerne pleasure, when she followeth her when as it is the part of a seruant to attend, and of a Master to commaund. You make her the seruant that should commaund. But you preferre Vertue vnto a goodly office, you make her a taster to pleasures. But we will see whether Vertue bee lodged amongst those who haue done her so many outrages since she can no more be called Vertue, if she hath giuen ouer her place. In the meane while (for it is that whereof we intr [...]at) I will shew that there are diuers voluptuous men on whom Fortune hath powred all her goods whom thou must need, confesse to be euill. Looke vpon Nomentanus and Api­cius two carefull ingrossers (as these men call them) of whatsoeuer delicate ey­ther Land or Sea affordeth, and who present vpon their tables all the choice Creatures, that are fit for meate in euery Countrie. Behold these very men who from there beds, behold their Kitchins, who fill their eares with Musicke, their eyes with pleasing shewes, and delight their pallats with sundrie sauces, with soft and gentle fomentations, all their bodie is suppled, and least in the meane while their nostrils should be idle, that very place is filled with diuers odours, wherein the funerall banquet of dissolution is celebrated. Thou wilt say that these men haue their pleasures, yet are they not at their ease, because they re­joyce not in goodnesse.

CHAP. XII.

That the plea­sures of wicked men are not tru­ly pleasures but follies, and [...]uries, contrariwise those of the wise are modest. EVill will befall them (saiest thou) because diuers thinges happen in the interim which trouble the minde, and contrarie opinions shall disquiet the spirits, which I grant that it is so. Yet notwith­sta [...]ding those very fooles. Those inconstant fellowes whom re­pentance attendeth at the heels receiuing great pleasure that we must needs cōfesse that they are so far from al trouble as from a good mind and (that which befalleth many) they are pleasant fooles, and merie mad men. But on the contrarie part, the pleasures of wise men are remisse and modest, feeble e­nough secret and lesse obserued, because they are not sought after; and if they come without calling, they are lesse made account of or entertained. For they [Page 619] intermix [...] the pleasures of this life, as men are wont to mingle [...]heir serious mat­ters with sports and pleasant di [...]courses. Let them desist therfore to joyne in­conueniences, and to implicate Vertue with Pleasure, for by such fals [...] opini­ons they seduce those who are alreadie to much corrupted with vice. The one of the [...]e abandoned vnto his pleasures alwayes drunke and tumbling on the Earth, knowing well that he liueth voluptuously: belieueth also that hee fol­loweth the Tract of Vertue: because he beleeueth that pleasure cannot bee se­parated from Vertue, [...]nd afterwardes intitleth his vice [...] with the name of wisdome, and publisheth those things which should be hidden. So these kind of men who haue not learned it of the Epicure, surfet in their delights, and be­ing drowned in vices, hide their voluptuous [...]esse in the bosome of Philoso­phie: and haue their recourse thether where they heare that pleasure is praised. Neyther estimate they rightly (for such vndoubtedly is my opinion) how sober and moderate his pleas [...]e is: but flie vnto the name seeking out a patronage and excuse for their lusts. They therefore loose that one good which they had in euils which is the shame of offending. For they prayse these thinges whereof they were ashamed and glorie in their vice and therefore youth cannot rowse and recouer it selfe, when they ascribe so faire a title to so foule an errour.

CHAP. XIII.

THis is the cause why this prayse of pleasure is so p [...]rnicious be­cause honest precepts remaine buried hereby, Why the prayse of pleasure is pernicious. and that which most corrupteth is most apparant. But my opinion is (although I speake it to the disgust of those of my Sect) that the precepts of the Epicure are holy, right, and if th [...]u examine them more neerely seuere enough. For he scantleth the wing of pleasure very much, ney­ther giueth her any libertie, but imposeth the same Law vpon voluptuousnesse that wee doe vpon Vertue. Hee commandeth her to obay Nature, but that which sufficeth Nature is too lit [...]le for dissolution. What is it therefore? hee that calleth slothfull idlenesse, and the varietie of gourmandize and dissoluti­on, felicitie; he seeketh a faire pretext for an euill thing, and whilest he commeth thether being shrouded vnder a name of respect he followeth pleasure not that which he hath learned; but that which hee had in her selfe, and thinking his vices had beene taught him in some Schoole, he pleaseth himselfe in them, not fearefully, not obscurely, yea he surfetteth on them in the sight and presence of all men, I will not therefore say as diuers of our Stoickes doe, that the Epi­cures Sect teacheth nothing but wickednesse, but this I say that it hath an euill report and is vndeseruedly defamed. No man can know this thing except he be [...]dmitted to know the secrets of this Schoole. The front and that which ap­peareth outwardly is the cause why men detract the same, and speake so sini­ [...]terly of it. It is as it were a valiant man clothed in an effeminate robe. As long as thou maintainest modestie, Vertue is in securitie. Thou wilt say that thy bodie is not addicted to any vncleanesse, but thou holdest as (some say) the Drumme in thy hand, and awakenest others to doe euill. Make choice there­fore of an honest title; and let the inscription be such as may incite the minde to repell those vices which weaken, as presently as they are intertained, whosoeuer approcheth Vertue, he giueth hope of some generous thing. He that followeth [Page 620] pleasure seemeth to bee weake, broken, effeminate, disposed to doe wicked­ly. Except some man decipher vnto him what pleasures are, to the end hee may know which of them are limited within a naturall desire: which are carried away head-long and are infinite, and the more they are fulfilled the lesse are they satisfied. Well then let Vertue leade the way, and our steppes shall bee assured. Ouer-great pleasure is hurtfull, in Vertue it is not to be fea­red that there should bee any thing excessiue, for shee her selfe onely is the meane. That which is tired with his owne greatnesse [...] not good.

CHAP. XIIII.

How a man will agree pleasure with Vertue. BVT to those that haue a reasonable Nature, what better thing then reason may be proposed? If this vnion bee agreeable, and if a man will trauell in such companie towardes happie life, let Ver­tue goe before and pleasure follow after, as the shadow doth the bodie. It is a small matter for a great minde to giue pleasure for a Hand-maid to attend on Vertue, which is the most honourablest Mistresse that a man may meete with all. Let Vertue march before and carrie the Ensigne, yet notwithstanding, we shall haue pleasure, although wee bee Masters and gouer­nours of the same. Shee will presse vs to grant her something, but shee cannot constraine vs thereunto. But they that haue giuen the superioritie to pleasure, haue wanted both, For they loose Vertue [...] Moreouer they haue not pleasure; but pleasure is Lord ouer them, with whose want they are eyther tormented, or else in aboundance strangled. Wretched if they be forsaken by her, and more wretched if they be ouerpressed. Like these who are entangled in the Sy [...]tes: Now are they left on drie Land, presently hurred away with the violence of the streame. But this falleth out thorow too much intemperance, and the blind loue we beare vnto the same. He that requireth euill for good, casteth himselfe into great danger if hee obtaine the same. Euen as wee hunt wilde beastes with labour and hazard, and when we haue caught them it is a hard matter to keepe them: for oftentimes they teare their Masters in peices; so fareth it with those who haue great pleasures, for they turne to their great miseries; and surprize them when they imagine they haue the mastrie ouer them. Which the more and greater they be, so the lesse is he, and more subject and slaue vnto many whom the common sort call happie. To continue and prosecute the similitude which I haue proposed: Euen as hee that searcheth the haunts of wilde beastes and accounts it a great matter to catch such dumbe Creatures in his nets, and enuiron some great Forrest with a kennell of hounds, to the end to follow their Tract, forsaketh his better affaires, and renounceth many other offices: so hee that followeth pleasure, neglecteth all other things, respecteth not his former libertie, but dependeth on his belly, neyther buyeth hee pleasures for himselfe; but selleth himselfe to pleasures.

CHAP. XV.

BVT what (saith h [...]) letteth Vertue and vol [...]pt [...]ousnesse to bee con [...]ounded in one, Agains [...] those that will [...] Ve [...]tu [...] with pleasure, [...] with [...] together. to the end that from them both the Soue­raigne good might be deriued, so that it might bee one t [...]in [...] to be honest [...] and to be pleasant. Because ther [...] cannot bee a par [...] of honestie which is not honest, neither shall the chiefest good haue her sinceritie, if she discouer ought in her selfe that is vnlike the better. Ney­ther is that joy which proceedeth from Vertue, although it be good, a part of the cheifest and absolute good. No more then mirth and tranquilitie, although they are deriued from most excellent causes. For these are goods: yet such as attend the Sou [...]raigne good, but perfect it no [...]. But whosoeuer will associate Vertue, and pleasure, and not equall them; by the frailtie of the one he morti­fieth all [...]that which is actiue in th [...] other. Finally he inthralleth that inuincible libertie that knoweth nothing more precious then her selfe. For he beginneth to haue need of Fortune which is the greatest seruitude of all others. And hee is attended by a doubtfull, fearefull, and susptious life, fearefull of casual­ties, and suspended vpon the moments of time. Thou giuest not Vertue a setled and immoueable foundation, but commanndest her to stand in a sl [...]pperie place. But what is so vncertaine as the expectation of casualties, and the varie­tie of the bodie, and such things as affect the bodie? How can hee obay God, and entertaine euery thing that hapneth to him with a good minde, and cease to complaine of Fate, and be a faithfull interpreter of his owne casualties, if he be shaken with the smallest assaults of pleasures or sorrowes? neyther can he be a good tutor or defender of his Countrie, nor a maintaner of his friends, if hee be inclined to pleasures. Thether therefore doth the chiefest good ascend from whence she may not bee drawne by any force. Whereby there is neyther en­trance giuen to sorrow, hope, or feare, nor to any other thing which may in­damnifie or lessen the greatnesse of the chiefest good. And only Vertue may ascend thereunto, by her steppes this steepie rocke must be broken, shee will stand stifly, and whatsoeuer shall happen will endure it [...] not onely patien [...] but also willing, knowing that euery difficultie of time is but the Law of Na­ture. And as a good Souldier will endure wounds, number his scarres [...] and though thrust throw with many weapons, will dying loue that Captaine for whose sake h [...] breatheth his last: so will Vertue haue this Ancient precept in minde, March after God. But whosoeuer complaineth, weepeth, and mour­neth, is compelled to doe that which he is commanded; and notwithstanding is violently enforced to doe that which is enjoyned him? But what madnesse is it rather to bee drawne then to follow? As great in truth [...] as if thorow sortish­nesse and ignorance of thy condition, thou shouldest lament, because some mis­fortune is befalne thee, or shouldest be amazed and diffident, that thou couldest not endure that [...] which hapneth as well to the good as to the euill [...] that is to say sicknesse, death of parents and friends [...] weaknesse, and such other incumbrances of mortall life. Let vs couragiously endure all that which the common condi­tion of all things that are created submitteth vs vnto. We are obliged vnto this, to endure all the accidents of our life without troubling our selues with those casualties, which we know how to auoid. We are borne vnder a Royall domi­nation. It is libertie to obey God.

CHAP. XVI.

Hee concludeth, that a happie life consisteth in Vertue, and shew [...]th what counsailes this Vertue giueth, and what good shee bringeth. TRue felicitie therefore is placed in Vertue. What wil she counsaile thee to? That thou thinke that neyther good or euill that hap­neth vnto thee, neyther by Vertue nor by malice. Afterwardes that by the meanes of God thou remaine alwayes [...]irme and con­fident against euill [...] and that as far [...] as breath in thy power thou follow God. What then is that which is promised thee, if thou behauest thy self [...] after this manner? Great thinges and such as are answerable to those that are diuine. Thou shalt be enforced in nothing [...] Thou shalt want nothing, thou shalt be free, assured and exempt from all dammage [...] thou shalt vndertake no­thing in vaine: thou shalt doe that which thou pleasest without trouble or dis­turbance. All thinges shall fall out as thou wishest: Aduersitie shall not touch thee. What then? shall Vertue onely which i [...] thus perfect and diuine suffice to liue happily? And why should it not suffice? I say this, it is more then suffi­cient. For what can he want that is contented with euery thing and desireth no­thing whatsoeuer? he that hath gathered all things that are his into himselfe; hath no need of any externall thing. But he that tendeth vnto Vertue although he hath gotten the greater part of his way, yet hath he need of some indulgence and fauour of Fortune, who as yet is entangled amidst the cares of this life, and hath not as yet acquit himselfe of those bondes which tie him captiue to this World. What difference then is there, some are tied, some are lockt vp, and som [...] are fettered. But hee that hath gotten more high, and is as it were lifted vp from the Earth draweth his chaine, being as yet not at full libertie, and repu­ted for a man that is wholly free.

CHAP. XVII.

Hauing so highly spoken of the soueraigne good and of a happie life, He taxeth those that flat­ter vices. IF ther [...]fore any one of these that barke at Philosophie alleage that which they are accustomed, why then speakest thou better then thou liuest? whence commeth it that thou flatterest a man more greater then thy selfe? that thou esteemest money to be a necessa­rie aide, that thou art moued if thou loosest the same, that thou we [...]pest if thou hearest news of the death of thy wife or of thy friend, that thou art glad if thou bee praised and spoken well of in all places, and that detractions torment thee? Why are thy Countrie grounds better trimmed then the natu­rall vse requireth? why kee [...]est thou no ordinary rule in taking thy repast? what meaneth thy house be [...]ter furnished then other mens? What mooueth thee to drinke Wine more older then thy selfe [...] why is euery thing so well ordered in thy hous [...]? whence commeth it that thou plantest trees, which serue for no o­ther vse but for shade? whence is it that thy wife weareth the reuenew of a rich family hanging at her cares? And what is the cause that thy Pages are so richly apparelled? why hast thou an art in thy house to know how to serue the table, and that thy plate is not set vpon thy boord rashly, and at euerie mans pleasure, but is serued in by courses, and that thou hast a caruer to cut vp thy dainties? Adde hereunto if thou wilt [...] Why hast thou goods beyond S [...]as? And why art thou Master of so many goods that thou knowest not how to number them? Art thou so dishonest and negligent that thou knowest not three or foure [Page 613] of thy seruants? or so dissolu [...] that thou hast them in so great number that thy memorie sufficeth not to contain [...] their names? Hereafter I will assist thee in speaking euill of me, and besides this will propose against my selfe, more then thou thinkest [...] For the present, behold what answer I wil make thee. I am not wise (and to satisfie thy displeasure the b [...]tter) I shall not be wise. I require not therefore of my selfe to be equall with the [...]est, but to be better then the worst. It sufficeth me [...]o cut of day by day some part of my vices, and to checke my imperfection [...]; my health neither is, nor shall be entire. I prepare vngu [...]nts but no exact remedies for my paine of the gou [...]e, contenting my self if it trouble me not often, and that it bee losse furious and burning then it is [...] I [...] I bee compared with thee, for swiftnesse of pa [...]e I am but a weake runner.

CHAP. XVIII.

I Speake not this for my selfe (for I am drown [...]d in vices) but fo [...] him that alreadie hath gott [...]n ground. That this re­proach is not new, That a wiseman in con­demning other mens vices be­ginneth with his owne, and hath a desire to mend himselfe [...] That we ought patiētly to endure scoffes because the best men haue not es­caped them. Thou spe [...]kest, saist thou in one kinde but beleeuest in another. This hath beene repro­ched by some leud companions, enemies of all good men to Pla­to, to the Epicure and to Zeno. For all these shewed how wee ought to liue, and not how they themselues liued, I speake of Vertue not of my selfe. When I blame vices I first of all reprooue mine owne, and when I may possibly I will liue as I ough [...]. This malignitie infected with diuers poysons shall not driue me from my laudable dessignes. This venome which you vomit out against others, and where with you poyson your selues shall not hinder me from praysing that life, according to which I know that I ought to gouerne my selfe, although I gouerne not my selfe in that sort as I ought therein. Your malignitie (I tell you) shall not restraine me from adorning that Vertue, which I follow not, although it be estranged and farre off from me [...] Shall I expect that reproach, shall I in any sort restraine her handes which neyther respected Ruti­lius, nor forbare Cato? Why should not any man in these mens opinion, [...]ee ouer rich to whom Demetrius the Cynicke seemed not poore enough? O exact person and aduersarie to all the desires of Nature, so farre as he forbad himselfe to demand those things from the vse whereof he had resolued to abstaine. For he maintaineth that the wiseman wanteth nothing. Markest thou this? he pro­fessed not the science of Vertue but of pouertie.

CHAP. XIX.

THey denie that Diodorus the Philosopher and the Epicure who not long since hastened his own death, A paradox of the Stoickies, who prayse those that murther themselues. The iniquitie of those men that accuse others and yet amend not themselues. by cutting his throat with his owne hands, followed not in this act the Doctrine of the Epi­cures. Some impute this vnto furie, some vnto [...]olly, and vaine glorie. He contrariwise content and [...]urnished with a good con­science hath giuen testimonie to himselfe in departing out of this life, and hath prased the repose of his dayes and arriued at the port, pronouncing that which you haue heard, in dispight of your teeth and [...]hat which you your selues also must say when your turne commeth.

Long haue I liu'd and fully h [...] I ended,
That race of life that Fortune first commanded.

[Page 624] You dispute of an other mans life, of an other ma [...]s death, and barke like little Dogges, against the names of great and laudable men, as if you met with men that were vnknowne. For it is expedient for you, that no man should seeme good, because an other mans vertue should not reproch your iniquities. To your great hearts griefe you compare famous things with your absurdities, ne [...] ­ther perceiue you that this boldnesse of yours woundeth you wounderfully [...] For if the Schollers of Vertue [...]ee couetous, voluptuous and ambitious, what name shall we allot you, who haue the very name of Vert [...]? You obi [...] that no man doth that which he t [...]heth and that he doth other wise then he spea­keth. Is this to be wondred at? Considering that they propose great and valo­rous things, which are aboue all the tempests of the world, and striue to nayle themselues to the Crosse, wherein euery one of you hath planted some nayle: yea, before they are at the place of punishment, they are content to bee tied to any wood that they meete withall. They that doe not chastice and reproou [...] themselues by themselues, are so many times tied vnto the Gibbet, as there are passions that draw them hither and thither, and are so ready to out-rage an o­ther; I would belieue them, were their not some of them that from the gal­lowes cursed and spit on those that beheld them.

CHAP. XX.

That a man hath purchased much that he h [...]th got­ten himsel [...]e good thoughts, al­tho [...]h the ef [...]ects follow not al­waies. THe Philosophers performe not what they speake, yet performe they very much, because they speake that which they haue con­ceiued with an honest mind. For if their words and deedes were one, what were more blessed then they? In the meane space, thou hast no cause to despise good words, neither those hearts that are full of good thoughts. You ought to praise the faire and honest occupations of the minde, and the studie of good Sciences, although there follow no effect thereupon. What wonder is it if they that haue attempted high matters, at­taine not to honour? Reuerence thou the hardie and difficult enterprises of Vertue, admire the men, although attempting great matters, they faile of their purpose. It is a generous thing, for a man that considereth not his owne, but natures forces; to attempt and vndertake high matters, and to con [...]iue that in his thought which the most ablest men in the world cannot effect; who hath purposed and said this vnto himselfe; I will keepe the same countenance in beholding death, as I kept when I heard that shee approached mee. How great waight so euer shall be imposed on me, I will yeeld my shoulder, and my minde shall sustaine my body. I will make as small reckoning of those goods that I haue, as of those that I haue not, if they lie on the ground in another mans house, it shall not trouble me [...] neither if they shine about me will I bee proude. I will neither respect the pr [...]sent prosperitie or future aduersitie; I wil looke vpon euery mans land as if it were mi [...] owne, and on mine as if it were all mens; I will so liue, as if I knew that I was borne for others, and for that will I giue thankes to nature that hath appropriated me to that vse. What could shee doe more for me? Shee hath giuen me onely vnto all men, and all men vn­to me alone, what so euer I haue, I wil neither keepe it too niggardly, not spend it too prodigally. I will beleeue that I possesse nothing more, then that which is well giuen me. I will not esteeme any benefits by the number or waight, nor estemate them any other wayes, but in respect of him that receiueth them. [Page 625] That shall neuer seeme too much to me, which a worthy man receiueth at my hands; I will doe all things, not for opinion but for conscience sake. I will be­leeue it is done in the sight of all men, whatsoeuer I doe vnwittingly. The end of my eating and drinking shall be to satisfie the desires of nature, not to fill and emptie my belly. I will bee pleasing to my friends, gentle and facile to mine enemies. I will graunt before I be [...]ked, and will preuent all honest demandes. I will remember that the World is my Countrie [...] that the gods who gouerne the World are aboue me, and stand about me as censors of my deedes and words. And as often as nature shall redemaund my Soule, or reason dismisse it I will depart this life with this testimonie, that I haue loued and laboured to haue a good conscience, and to bee exercised in laudable actions; that no mans libertie hath beene diminished by me, nor mine by any man.

CHAP. XXI.

WHosoeuer resolueth with himselfe to doe this, That good thoughts are the beginnings, and the high waies to good workes. hee will assay he will walke towards the gods, and aspire vnto great things, al­though he alwayes attaine them not. But you that hate Vertue and such as are vertuous doe nothing new. For sicke eyes are a­fraide of the Sunne, and those creatures which see not clearely but by night, are astonished as soone as the bright some day appeareth, and re­tire themselues to their lurking holes; In bri [...]fe, those creatures that feare the light, locke them vp in their retreates. Grieue and spend your wretched tongs in detracting good men; barke and bite at them, sooner shall you breake your teeth then lay hold or hurt them. But why liueth such a one, who saith hee is a friend of Wisedome so deliciously? Wherefore saith he should a man despise ritches and yet he hath them? Hee doth nought else but speake against the loue of this life, and yet he liueth. Why commendeth hee sicknesse, and yet so dili­gently maintaineth and longeth for health? Banishment with him is but a word of no vse, and he saith that the change of a mans Countrie is no euill thing: Notwithstanding, if hee may make choice, hee endeth his dayes in the place where he was borne. He iudgeth that there is little difference betwixt a short and long life, yet if nothing let him he extendeth his age, and flourisheth in qui­etnesse for many yeares. He saith that these things should be contemned, not in regard of the proprietie and possession, but in respect wee should not haue them with labour, hee will not driue them from him, but will follow them se­curely when they flit away. In what store-house may Fortune better locke her riches then there, from whence she may fetch them, without complaint of him that keepeth them. Marcus Cato when hee praised Curius and Corancatus and that Age, wherein it was an offence worthy of censure, to haue some few plates of Siluer, was himselfe master of a million of Gold, farre lesse in respect of the treasure which Crassus had, yet farre more then Cato the Censor was Lord of. By farre more had he surpassed his great Grand-father, had they beene compa­red together, then he was surpassed by Crassus; And if greater fortunes had be­fallen him, he had not refused them. For a wiseman thinketh himselfe worthy of all those presents of fortune. Hee loueth not riches, and yet he preferreth them before pouertie, hee receiueth them into his house but not in his minde, neither treadeth them vnder foote in possessing them, but containeth them, and will haue an excellent subiect to exercise his vertue vpon.

CHAP. XXII.

Why a vertuous and good man despiseth not ri­che [...], and to what vse they serue him. BVt who doubteth, but that a wise man hath a greater meanes to expresse the worthinesse of his minde, when he hath riches, then when he hath pouertie, whē as in pouertie there is but one vertue not to be deiected, not to be depressed. In riches a man may say that temperance, libertie [...] diligence, disposition, and magnifi­cence, haue a spacious field to shew themselues in. In this place there is a noble discou [...]se of the vse of riches. A wise man will not con­temne himself, although he be of a low statu [...]e, yet could hee wish that he were higher. Though he be slender in body, and haue lost an eye, yet will he be content, yet had he rather that his body were strong enough. Hee will loue it so, when he shall know that there is some thing in him more strong and more vigorous; hee shall endure sicknesse and wish for health. For some things al­though they be small in appearance, and such as may be taken from vs, without the ruine of the principall good, yet adde they something to perpetuall ioy which springeth from vertue. So doe riches affect and comfort him, as a faire and merrie wind doth a Sailer, as a faire day, or as a couert in cold weather and raine. But who is he say I, amongst our wise men, who account vertue for the only good, that denieth likewise that these which we call indifferent, haue some worth in them, and that some are to bee preferred before others. To some of these some honour is giuen, to some great. Doe not therefore deceiue thy selfe, riches are amongst those things that are to bee desired. Why then saiest thou, doest thou mocke me, when as they are as highly esteemed by thee as they are by me? Wilt thou know how differently they are affected? If riches slip out of my [...]ands, they shall carrie nothing away with them but themselues; Thou wilt be astonished, and seeme vnto thy selfe to be left without thy selfe, if they depart from thee. Riches with me are in some request, with thee in high e­steeme. In briefe, my riches serue me, Thou art a slaue to thine.

CHAP. XXIII.

That riches a [...] honest, both in regard of the getting of them, as in respect of the possession and vse of them. GIue ouer therefore to forbid Philosophers to haue money. No man hath condemned Wisedome to perpetuall pouertie. A wise man may haue great wealth, but taken from no man, nor bought with the effusion of other mens bloud, gotten without any mans preiudice, without vnlawfull gaine, whose departure shall be as honest as their entrie, whereat no man shall grieue except he be enuio [...]s. Vrge against them as much as thou pleasest, they are honest; in which, where as there are many things which euery man would haue called his, yet is their nothing that any man may say it is his. But the wise man will not estrange the bountie of Fortune from him selfe, neither will he glorie or be [...] ashamed of that patri­monie that he hath gotten with honestie; yet shall hee haue wherein to glorie, if his doores being open, and the Citie admitted to enter to examine his sub­stance, he might say; Let euery man take that hence which he knoweth to bee his! O great man, happily rich, if his actions bee answerable to these speeches of his, if after this speech he haue so much; this I say, if sa [...]e and secure he hath submitted himselfe to the Cities search, if no man hath found ought in his house, that an other man may challenge, boldly and openly, hee shall bee [Page 627] rich. Euen as a wise man admitteth no money into his house that is badly got, so will he not refuse nor exclude great riches, which are the gifts of fortune and th [...] fruites of vertue. For what cause is there, why hee should enuie them a good place? Let them come and dwel with him; he will neither boast of them, nor hide them, the one is the signe of an insolent minde, the other of a fearefull and weake minde; as if containing a great good within his bosome. Neither as I said, will he cast them out of his house. For what will he say? Whether this, you are vnprofitable; or this, I know not how to vse riches? Euen as although he can walke his iourney on foote, yet he had rather get vp into his Coach, so if he may be rich he will, and he will entertaine riches yet as slight and transitorie things, neither will he suffer them to bee burthen some to any other, nor to himselfe. He will giue then, what hearken you now? Why open you your bo­somes? he will giue, but either to good men, or to those whom hee may make good. He will giue, but with great deliberation, making choice of the worthiest as remembring himselfe, that hee is to giue an account both of his expences and receipts. He will giue vpon a iust and reasonable cause, for to giue [...]uilly, is a shamefull losse. Hee will haue his bosome open, but not rent, out of which much money shall passe, but nothing shall be lost.

CHAP. XXIIII.

HE deceiueth himselfe, Of the vs [...] of Goods in regard of the diuers re­lief of our neigh­bours, and how we ought to giue. whosoeuer thinketh that it is an easie matter to giue; This thing hath great difficultie in it, if so bee it be giuen with iudgement, not scattered by aduenture or rashly. I gaine the heart of such a man, I restore vnto an other, I succour this man, I take pittie on that man; I furnish such a one, because hee deserueth to be warranted from pouertie, and to bee no more busi [...]d in seeking his fortune. To som [...] I will not giue although hee want; because, although I should giue yet will he still be needie. To some will I offer, and other some will I presse to take, I cannot be negligent in this thing, I neuer oblige so many vnto my profit as when I giue. What saiest thou, dost thou giue to receiue againe? Yea, to the end I may not loose; yet must the gift that is giuen be in such hands whence it may not be redemaunded, it may be restored. Let a benefit bee be­stowed like a treasure that is deepely hidden, which thou wilt not digge vp, ex­cept thou hast neede of it. What? hath not a rich mans house abundant matter to doe good? For who would tie liberality only to Citizens and men of accompt? Nature commandeth vs to doe good vnto men, whether they be slaues or free-men, whether they be naturally bred, or by manumission freed of in just liber­tie or giuen amongst friends. What is that to the matter? Wheresoeuer a man is, there is a place of benefit. The wise man likewise may spred his money in his owne house, and exercise liberalitie, which is not so called, because it is giuen to free-men, but because it proceedeth from a free minde. This liberalitie of a wise man, is neuer employed vpon filthy and vnworthy persons, neither is it euer so wearied [...] but that as often as he findeth out a worthy receiuer, it floweth abundantly, you are not therfore to giue a sinister interpretation, to those things that are spoken honestly, manfully, and stoutly, by those that are louers of Wis­dome. But consider this first of all [...] that there is a difference betwixt him that is studious of wisdom, and him that is wise & hath gotten wisdome. He that hath [Page 628] wisdome will say vnto thee, I speake iustly, yet am I entangled with many vices. You are not to require of mee a life that is euery way correspondent to my words, whereas I endeuour as much as I may to make and forme my selfe, and addresse my selfe according to an excellent patterne. If I proceede as well a [...] I haue intended, require this of me, that my deedes may bee answerable to my wordes. But he that hath attained the fulnesse of wisdome, will deale other­wise with thee, and will say. First of all thou art not to permit thy selfe to giue sentence of thy be [...]ters; for now already (which is the argument that I am in the right way) I haue gotten thus farre as to displease euill men. But to let thee know, that I enuy no mortall man, heare what I promise thee, and how much I estimate euery thing. I deny that riches are good, for if they were, they should make good men: but now since that which is found amongst euill men, cannot bee called good, I deny them this name, yet confesse I that they are to be had, that they are profitable, and bring great commodities.

CHAP. XXV.

Although a wise man possesseth [...]iches, he accoū ­teth them not for true goods, and why he had rather haue them, then haue them not. HEare therefore what the cause is, why I number them not amongst goods, and what thing I consider in them, more then you, since it is agreed betweene vs both that they are to be had. Put mee into a rich house; put mee there where I shall be ordinarily ser­ued in siluer and golde; I will not bee proud for all this, which, although I haue by me, yet are they without me. Transferre mee to a wood­den bridge, and driue mee amongst the beggers, I will not therefore despise my selfe, because I sit amongst them, who thrust out their [...]and to haue an almes giuen them; for what is this to the matter, whether a crust of bread be wanting to him, who wants not the power to die? what then is it? I had ra­ther haue that faire house then a bridge. Lodge me in a rich bed with delicate hangings, and goodly furniture, I will not suppose my selfe more happy, be­cause I haue soft and silken couering vpon me, and because purple carpets are spred for my guests to sit vpon. I shall bee no whit more miserable, if my wea­rie head rest it selfe vpon a locke of haye, or if I lie vpon a Circensian and bro­ken pad, whence the straw breaketh forth, through the rotten and ragged lin­nen. What therefore is it? I had rather show what my manner were in clean­ly and decent apparrell, then with halfe couered or naked shoulders. Though all the dayes of my life should be pleasant, and that one honour should draw on others that are new, I would not be a whit prouder for all this. Change to the contrary this indulgence of time; let my mind bee wounded euery wayes with losses, sorrowes, and diuers incursions: Let not an hower slip without some complaint, yet will I not say, that I am wretched amongst the wretchedest; I will not therefore curse my day, for I haue already resolued with my selfe, that no day should seeme fatall vnto me. What therefore is it? I had rather tem­perate my ioyes, then still my sorrowes. This will Socrates say vnto thee: Make mee the conquerour of all nations; let that delicate a [...]d triumphant Chariot of Bacchus carry me as farre as Thebes from the sunne-rise; Let the Persian Kings require lawes at my hands, then will I thinke my selfe most of all to bee a man when all the world shall salute me for a God. Ioyne to this sodaine greatnesse, a contrary change; Let them cast mee vpon a hurdle, to be led in show in the triumph of some proud and insolent enemy by reason of his victory, I will [Page 629] march with such a countenance behind his Chariot, as I did when I was moun­ted in mine. What therefore is it? I had rather ouercome then be taken. I will despise the whole Kingdome of Fortune, out of that if I may take my choice, I will chuse the best and most pleasing. What so euer befalleth me, I will repute it good, but I desire they should be easie and pleasant, and such as should least trouble me in the handling of them. For, thou must not thinke that there is any vertue without labour, but some vertues neede spurs, other some raines: Euen as the body that ascendeth a hie place ought to be kept backe, and he that ascendeth vpon should beare forward: so some vertues are as it were descen­ding, some that are troublesome to mount. Is it to be doubted, but that pa­tience, valour, and perseuerance, and other vertues opposed to afflictions, and tread fortune vnder foot, are such vertues as mount and aduance themselues with trauell, and outstrip many difficulties? What therefore? Is it not as ap­parent, that liberty, temperance and clemency march downewards? In these wee containe our minde, lest it slip. In these wee encourage and incite: So then when there shall bee question of pouerty, wee will arme our selues with the strongest, best disposed, and such as know best how to fight: in the vse of riches, wee will call the other which will march leasurely, and sustaine the weight.

CHAP. XXVI.

THis being thus distinguished, I had rather haue the vse of those vertues, What difference there is betwixt a foole and a wise man, When as both would be rich. the exercise whereof is peaceable, then to assay those other that make a man sweat bloud and water. I therfore saith the Wise-man, liue not otherwise then I speake, but you heare otherwise then you should: onely the sound of words is come to your eares, but what they signifie you enquire not, what difference then is there betwixt mee a foole, and thee a wise man, if both of vs will haue wealth? Great: for riches are to the wise man as his slaues, to the foole as his comman­ders. The wise man giueth not any authority to riches, but they master you wholly: you, as though some one had promised you an eternall possession of them, accustome your selues to them, and cleaue vnto them. The wise-man doth then most of all meditate vpon pouerty, when as hee is in the midst of his pouerty. Neuer doth an Emperour so trust to peace, that he prepareth not for warre, which hee reputeth to bee already proclaimed, although as yet they are not come to handy strokes. A faire house, as though it could neuer burne nor fall downe, maketh you insolent. Riches doe amase you, as if they were out of all danger, and were greater then that fortune had power enough to consume them. Idleing you enuy your riches, neither foresee you the danger of them. Wherein you behaue your selues like Barbarians besieged in a place, who set their armes a crosse, beholding those that besiege them trauelling after certaine engines, and know not what they be, neither vnderstand wherto men will make vse of these engines of battery, which are addressed farre off from the Wall. The same befalleth you, you rot in your goods, neither thinke you what ca­sualties hang ouer your heads euery wayes, and that sodainly shall plucke from you the fairest and the richest spoiles. Whosoeuer shall take away a wise mans riches, shal leaue him that which is his, for he liueth being contented with those things that were present, and secure of the future. I haue neuer so much per­swaded my selfe saith Socrates, or any other that hath the same right and pow­er [Page 630] ouer humane affaires, as to apply my manner of liuing to your opinions. Vse your accustomed habite euery way. I will not thinke them to bee the iniuries of men, but the cries of little children. Thus will hee speake that hath gotten and attained wisdome, whose mind beeing freede from all vice, will loath him to reprehend others, not because hee hateth them, but because hee would a­mend them. To these will hee adde: Your reputation moueth me, not in mine owne respect, but for your cause: When I see you hate and harrow vertue, it is a forswearing of good hope. You doe me no more injurie, then they do the Gods, who ouerturn their altars; but your euill intent, and euill counsell appea­reth euen there where it could not hurt. Thus beare I with your impertinen­cies euen as almighty Iupiter doth the follies of the Poets; Wherof one of them giueth him wings, an other hornes, an other brought him forth as an adulterer; an other, as a night-watcher; an other, as cruell towards the Gods; an other, as vniust towards men; an other, as a rauisher, and corrupter of children of free condition and of good parentage; an other, for a parracide, and such a one as hath inuaded other mens dominions, yea, the kingdome of his owne father: all which was to no other end, but to take from men (who belieued that the Gods were such) all shame of doing euill. But although these things hurt mee nothing, yet doe I warne you for your owne sakes, and counsell you to embrace vertue. Belieue those that hauing long time followed her, cry out that they follow some great thing, and that one day or other, will shew it selfe more ex­cellent, and honour her as the Gods, and reuerence those that serue her, as you would doe the professors and priests of the Gods: and as often as there is any mention made of the sacred letters, keepe your silence: for this word is not deriued from fauour, Fauete linguis non [...] fauore. as diuers men suppose, but silence is commanded, that the sacrifice might be duely performed without any interruption.

CHAP. XXVII.

By reason of si­lence whereof he entreateth, hee sheweth by an [...]xpr [...]sse c [...]mpa­rison, that th [...]re are not any peo­ple in t [...]e world more carefully to be listned vn­to then wisem [...]n, and t [...]ey that are v [...]tuous, & thereu [...]on hee in [...]roduceth So­crates as the most exc [...]ll [...]nt who magni­ [...]ieth vertue, and sheweth that happy life consi­s [...]eth in the same. WHich so much the rather ought to be enioyned you, that as often as any thing is vttered by that Oracle, with an intent and hum­ble voice, you may heare the same. When some Apostatate Priest maketh a man belieue, that the sister of Apollo hath sounded, when any one wel lerned to carue the flesh frō his muskles, woun­deth himselfe both in armes and shoulders with a sparing hand, when some wo­man creeping vpon her knees along the wayes howleth, and an old man appar­relled in linnen, carrying in his hands a lanterne and a candle at midday, crieth out that some one of the Gods are displeased; you flocke about him, and listen, and entertaining one anothers mutuall amase; you affirme, that he is some Pro­phet. Behold Socrates crieth out from that prison, into which when he entred it, be clensed it, and made it more honest then any Court of plea. What mad­nesse is this? What nature is this so opposite against Gods and men? to defame vertues, and to violate holy things with malignant speeches? If you can, praise good men, if not passe by them. But if you take pleasure to exercise this vnbri­dled liberty, assaile one another: for when you are mad against heauen (I say not that you commit sacriledge) but you loose your labours. Sometimes I ministred matter to Aristophanes to breake his iests vpon me, and all that band of comicke Poets powred out their enuenomed scoffes against me: my vertue grew more famous by these very meanes, whereby they assayled her; for it be­houeth [Page 631] her to be produced and attempted; neither doe any men more vnder­stand what she is, then they, who by prouoking her, haue tired her forces. The hardnesse of the flint stone is knowne to no men more then to those who strike vpon it: I present my selfe vnto you in such sort, as a rocke in midst of a tem­pestuous sea, the which is on euery side, & incessantly beaten with the waues and yet notwithstanding continues in his place, and neyther by length of time, nor by the assaults of the same, is any wayes consumed. Enforce your selues against me, and leaue me at your pleasure, I will ouercome you with pa­tience, whatsoeuer he be that attempteth those things that are firme and im­pregnable, imployeth his forces to the ruine of himselfe. And therefore seeke out some more soft and yeelding matter, wherein you may fixe your weapons. But haue you so much leasure as to examine other mens faults, and to giue your censures of any man: Why this Philosopher hath so faire a house? why the other suppeth more daintily? you obserue pustules and little spots in other men, being your selues besieged with vlcers. It is as much as if you should carpe at some mens freckles and warts which should appeare in their fairest bo­dies, and you your selues were ouergrowne with a loathsome scab. Obiect a­gainst Plato, that he desired money; against Aristotle, that he receiued the same; against Democritus, that he neglected it; against the Epicure, that he spent it; ob­iect against me Alcibiades and Phaedrus. O how happy should you be, when you could but counterfeit our vices? but why rather examine you not your owne vices which wound you on euery side; the one assayling you outward­ly, the other burning in your bowels. The affaires of the world are not brought to that passe, although you are wholly ignorant of your estates, that you may haue so much leasure as to employ the rest of your time, and your tongues in detraction of good men.

CHAP. XXVIII.

THis vnderstand you not, The continuati­on of a wise mās discourse in the person of So­crates. and you carrie an other countenance then becommeth your fortune, euen as many men doe, who sitting in the Circus or Theater, and some one dead in their houses, and are wholly ignorant of that which hath happened. But I beholding from a hie place, see what tempests either hang ouer your heads, that will somewhat later breake from out their cloud, to such as are neere at hand, that shall rauish both you and yours away, as soone as they shall meete you. And why? see you not already likewise, although you haue little sence thereof, a certaine tempest that transporteth your minds, and hurleth you vp, flying and pursuing the same things, and rauisheth you now lifted vp on high, now battereth you against the ground.

The end of the Discourse touching a blessed life.

THE TRANQVILITIE AND PEACE OF THE MINDE. WRITTEN BY LVCIVS ANNAEVS SENECA, AND DEDICATED TO SERENVS.

The Argument of IVSTVS LIPSIVS.

AND this Booke is to bee numbered amongst those that are profitable and worthie both for their matter and handling. It was written in the begin­ning of his returne from his banishment when he was admitted to the Court and preferred to be NEROES Schoolemaster. This appeareth by these words, in his first Chapter. This dissolution abashed me, and this a­bundance of delight spreading it selfe, and sounding round about mee, rauished me, comming from a place where I had long time setled my selfe to liue in obscuritie. Hee toucheth and taxeth the dissolution of the Court, which before times was vnknowne and hatefull vnto him. The order in the handling hereof is confused, yea scarcely is there any, and an ouer sight or defect vnlesse I be deceiued, appeareth in many thinges. But this is the summe hereof. The occasion of his writing, he draweth from his inconstan­cie and irresolution, his minde being neyther setled or quiet in any sort. This saith hee is their custome who are in the way to wisdome but haue not as yet attained the same, nor tasted the fruit thereof, which is tranquilitie. O great good, and what is it? he describeth the same. How shall I attaine thereunto? by flying inconstancie, what then is shee? her he punctually describeth she is driuen away by diuers remedies first by occupation and that eyther publique, if the times or thy vnderstanding admit it, or priuate to the end, thou maiest conuerse amongst the best studies and meditations. Yet must not we suddenly flie from the Common-weale, that there are many parts thereof, and that we haue libertie to embrace any one of them. This vntill the fourth Chapter. Then added he if wee intend businesse, three thinges are to be considered our selues, the businesse, or men for whose cause, or with whom we act. In our selues our forces are to be examined, what and how farre they may neither let vs attempt further. In our affaires? what are we able to ouer­come them, whether likewise there be a chaine of them and whether they lead vs farther that our returnes ought to be alwayes free. In men: whether they be worthie of our labor or expence of time. But they are not vaine, ambitious, neyther occupied in any serious matter. Afterwards in the seuenth Chapter, he addeth but scarce to the purpose. That [Page 633] an especiall [...]nd perfect friend is an entert [...]inment of tranq [...]iliti [...] [...]nd delight, but such a one as is not of an e [...]ill disposition, [...]nd such [...]s [...]cc [...]seth all things [...] Againe, there is [...] perfect text, and in the eight Chapter of the meanes of Patrimonie, that it bee [...]ot great nor small to nourish Tranquilitie, but meane and [...], and that may bee m [...]int [...]ined by Parsimonie. But excesse is to be auoyded, yea in the verie instruments of life, as in o [...]r Liberaries or Bookes. After this hee ouer slippeth in the tenth Chapter, and prooueth that tro [...]bles befall in euerie estate of lif [...], but that [...]hey [...]re m [...]llif [...]d by custome, by b [...] ­holding another mans Fortune, which of times is th [...] worst. Likewis [...] that desires [...]e not to be banished farre from vs, but best neere vnto [...]s, and eas [...] t [...] bee l [...]id hold on. And thus instruct [...]th [...]ee a proficient and young Scholler, for [...] [...]eed to fight, for he ouercommeth all Fortune, which he [...]ore-thinketh to [...]e this or th [...]t, and by fore-sight thereof m [...]llifieth and breaketh it. This [...]till the twelfth Chapter. After that another Tract that we are not to tra [...]ell in vnnecess [...]rie m [...]tters, neither as much as in vs lieth, in forraine. He vrgeth DEMO [...]TVS heauenly precept. That many things are not done, either priuately or publiquely Presently [...] after [...] the fourteenth Chapter, he driueth vs from Leuitie and Pertinacie. That is nei [...]her busily to change in life, neither if thou hast chosen euil, obstinatly to cleane vnto that, but to behold all things with an equall and almost a pleasing countenance. For what is life, b [...]t [...] iest? L [...]stly in the sixteenth Chapter that simulation is to bee fled, [...]nd too carefull composition of [...] mans selfe. Let simplicitie bee entertained and sometimes mirth, yea and sometimes banquet and freer drinking. This drowneth cares, and freeth and extolleth the minde. In the end he concludeth, that he hath set downe what they are that may maintaine tranquilitie, and may restore it, by which you may see what the partition was, but truly it is not exi­stant at this present. Therefore as many thinges of SENECAES, are the wordes to bee praysed in part, the order of the whole is defectiue, and that eyther by the iniuries of time or at least wise by the negligence of transcriptors.

CHAP. I.

DEbating with my selfe Serenu [...], Seneca intro­duceth Serenus or some other in his beginning [...] to whome he dis­couer [...]th the in­firmitie, of his mind, and de­mandeth reme­dy at his hana's to settle them. and examining my present life, there were some vices of mine that appeared openly [...] and subiect to euery eye, and such as I might touch with the hand, some more obscure and closely hidden, some other that were not continuall, but such as returned at cer­taine times and spaces; and these of all the rest were most troublesome, because (if I may so speake it) they resembled such enemies, as charge and assault at vnaw [...]res, which keepe me either from being alwayes ready, as in time of warre; or to liue in security, as I ought to doe, in time of peace: yet principally obserue I this habitude in my selfe, (for why should I not disclose the truth, since thou art my Physitian?) that neither I am truely and intirelie deliuered from these which I feared and hated, neither againe subiect vnto them. I am in your e­state, that is not altogether so euill; yet doe I nothing but complaine my selfe, neither finde I any thing that may content me [...] I am not sicke, and yet I am not well. Thou must not here tell me, that all the beginnings of vertues are fee­ble, and that in time their continuance and strength is increased: I know well that these things which are of consequence, as honour and reputation, to be e­loquent, [Page 634] and all that whereupon our neighbours ground their iudgement, are fortified by time, and those that require some prouision of true force, and they that are farded to please the eyes, respect some yeeres, vntill such time as by little and little they get some time that may giue them tincture. But I feare lest custome which bringeth constancy to things, fixe this imperfection more deepely in me. A long conuersation either with good or euill men induceth loue. But I cannot shew thee so well at once, as in part, what this infirmity of the mind is, which is houered now this way, now that way, without staying it selfe resolutely on that which is good, and without declining also vnto the euill. I will tell thee what befalleth mee, giue my infirmity afterwards what name thou pleasest. Great is my loue to parsimony, I confesse it, I like not a bed am­bitiously furnished, I like not a garment newly drawne from the coffer, nor brought from the presse where to make it shine; it hath endured a thousand weights and torments; but a homely, rai [...]ent, proper for the time, that hath not beene horded vp, nor is to be worne with too much care; that meat plea­seth mee that fewe men may dresse, and lesse pages attend, thats readily pre­pared, and that passeth through a few mens hands, that is [...]asily gotten, and ea­sily drest, that is neither scanty nor deare, that may bee found in all places, that neither spendeth the patrimony, nor hurteth the body, nor is like to bee re­turned by the way it entred. I like a homelie and a home-bred seruant, olde and rusticke, plaine, such as my father vsed, without these new fashions, and the workmans marke, a table not checkered nor renowmed amongst the peo­ple [...] because that diuers men had beene masters of it, who loued to make good cheere, but fitte for my vse, which for the beautie thereof shall not bewitch the eyes of my guests with pleasure, nor inkindle them with enuy. After I had taken pleasure to see these things aboue said, a great troupe of yong Pages nourished apart, more diligentlie and costlie apparrelled then they should be in a priuate house; and vassels and slaues garnished with golde, and a troupe of seruants that shined (so neatelie they were attired) sodainelie dazeled mine eies. Furthermore, a house wherein nothing was trod vpon but that which was prec [...]ous, where riches were scattered in euerie corner of the house, where the roofes shined with gold, and where the flattering people haunted which follow and attend those patrimonies that fall to ruine. Why should I reckon vp the waters so cleare that a man might see the bottome, which incessantlie runne a­bout those places where the feasts are solemnized? What shall I speake of the banquet, answerable to the rest of the magnificence? the things amazed mee, and this delicious abundance comming to spread it selfe, and to [...]ound about me, who came from a place where I haue liued a long time, setled in a solitarie life, rauished me wholly, my sight is dulled somewhat, I more easilie lift vp my mind then mine eies against such pompe, I depart therefore not worse but dis­content; neither walke I so ioyfull and merrie amidst my brittle houshold-stuffe, and a silent disgust and doubt assaileth me, whether that traine were not better then mine, none of these change me, yet euery one of them shake me. Some­times I am ready to follow that which my Maisters haue commanded me, & to thrust my selfe into the affaires of estate. I am content to accept of honours and maiestracy, not perswaded to vndertake the same, either for purple ornaments or golden roddes, but that being thus aduanced I might be more propper and better disposed to do pleasures to my friends, my kinsfolke, my Citizens, yea, and all mortall men [...] I follow Zeno, Cleanthes, Crysippus, no one of all which in­termedled with the common-weale, though euery one of them counsailed [Page 635] others therunto. But when I had induced my mind therevnto, which is not ac­customed to such debates. If any vnworthy matter present it selfe (as in all hu­mane life there are too many) or if it go not forward easilie, or that things slight and friuolous require much time to be imployed in them; I returne backe a­gaine to my solitude, and doe as beasts that are tired and wearied, that run more swiftly then they haue done all the day before when they drawe neare vnto their Stable: then is my mind conceited to containe it selfe within mine owne walles. Let no man hence forward take one day from me, which cannot restore me a sufficient recompēce for so great a losse, let my mind cleaue vnto himselfe, let him seeme himselfe: let him not intend no forraine bu [...]inesses, nor any thing that is subiect to euery mans censure, let Tranquillitie be loued which is voyde of priuate and publique cares. But when as reading hath roused and lifted vp my mind to more confidence, and noble examples haue pricked me forward [...] I take a pleasure to haunt the iudgment court, to lend one man my voice, another man my labour, which although it profit him not, yet was it aimed for his pro­fit, to restraine another mans pride in the iudgement court, too badly puffed vp by his too great fortunes. In studies me thinkes vndoubtedly that it is better to contemplate the things themselues and to discourse vpon them, and to fit them with conuenient words, so as without search they may bee subiect to the thing that is in question. What neede wee to compose workes that shall con­tinue for many ages. Wilt thou beat thy braine to the end that men may speake of thee when thou art out of the world! Thou art borne to dye, the secret funerall hath the least troubles. If therfore thou wilt wright any thing to passe the time withall, write it in a simple stile for thine owne vse, not to affect praise. They that studie for a day need no great labour. Againe, when my soule is lifted vp with the greatnesse of thoughts, she is ambitio [...]s in coying words, and as her conceptions are great, so endeuoureth she to be eloquent; and according to the dignitie of the subiect is the carriage of the stile. Then forgetting this lawe, and this restrained iudgement, I am carried alo [...]t, and speake now by an­other mans mouth. And not to prosecute the rest more at large, in all things this infirmity of a good mind altereth me, and I am afraid least it should escape mee by little and little, or (which is yet more tedious) that I am not alwaies in suspence and doubt as he that feareth to fall, and hath as yet no more euill then I could foresee. For we iudge of our priuate affaires and behold them familiar­ly, and fauo [...]r is alwaies a hinderance vnto iudgement. I thinke that many men might haue attained wisedome except they had thought that they had attai­ned the same; except they had dissembled something in themselues, and ouer­passed some things with open eyes. For thou must not thin [...]e that other mens flattery maketh vs so euill as our owne doth. What man is he that dare speake truth vnto himselfe? Who is hee that being placed amidst the troopes of his commenders and flatterers, that flattereth not himselfe more then all the rest? I pray thee therefore if thou hast any remedy to stay this debate of my soule, that thou wilt honour me with this good, that I may say that thou art hee that hast set me at quiet. I know well that the motions of my soule are not dange­rous, prouided that they be not ouer violent. To expresse vnto thee in an apt similitude the matter wherof I complaine, I am not tormented with the storme but I haue a prouocation to vomit. Take from me then this paine whatsoeuer it be, and helpe him that is sicke in the sight of the land.

CHAP. II.

Hee sheweth [...]irst o [...] all the diffe­rence that is be­twixt those that [...]eele troubles of their mind [...], and others that haue no appr [...]hension thereof, or that take pleasure to be in trouble. Then declareth he how the first sh [...]ld be hand­led. TRuely my Serenus I haue long ago sought for such a one without speaking a word of it, that had such and the like thought in his mind. There is nothing that admonisheth me more neerely then their example, who being deliuered from a long and grieuous sicknesse feele as yet by times some shiuering [...]nd slight motions, and when as they haue beene freed from the reliques of their infirmitie, yet are they disquieted by some suspitions of a relaps, and being al [...]eady whole offer their hand to the Phisition to feele their pulse, and suspect euery heat and mo­tion of their bodies. Such mens bodies Serenus are healthfull enough, yet are they not as yet well accustomed thereto, but haue a certaine trembling agita­tion, resembling that of the calme sea or some l [...]ke when a tempest is ceased on it. They haue therefore need not of those harder remedies which we likewise ouer-passe, as in some place to oppose thy selfe against thy passions, in some place to be displeased, in some other place to be more grieuously angry: but we haue most need of that which commeth last, that thou trust thy selfe, and be­lieuest that thou art in a good way, being no waies distracted by the by-walkes of many men wandring here and there, and of some that erre about the waye. But that which thou desirest which is not to bee shaken, is a great and perfect thing, and approacheth the felicity of God. This stable seate of the mind the Grecians call [...] wherof Democritus hath written an excellent volume. I call it Tranquillity, nether is it necessary to imitate or to mould new words according to their forme. It sufficeth that the thing which is in questiō hath a name which expresseth the force of the Greeke word without representing the letters. So then we demand how the spirit may remaine alwaies like vnto himselfe, march with an equall traine, be fauourable to himselfe, and behold hi [...] attempts with a good eye, to be ioyfull and content, neither raising nor depressing himselfe o­uer-much. This is called Tranquillitie, but let vs enquire in generall how wee may attaine hereunto: thou shalt take as much of the p [...]blique remedy as thou wilt; meane while I will discouer the whole vice whereby euerie man may know his part, and thou likewise mayst vnderstand how less [...] trouble tho [...] hast with the loathing of thy selfe, then they who tying themselues to a faire shew, and labouring vnder a great title would willingly discouer themselues, but I know not what shame entertaineth them. All are in the same cause, both they which are vexed with leuity & anxiety, and a cōtinuall change of their p [...]rpose, who are alwaies better pleased with that which they haue left, and thos [...] that watch & gape after vaine hopes. Adde vnto those men likewise who are not trā ­sported in their life by the means of inconstancie but thorow their sloath. They liue not as they would but as they beganne, moreouer there are innumerable other properties, but only one effect of the vice which is to displease themselues. This springeth from the intemperature of the mind & from fearfull and scarce prosperous desires, whereas they dare not as much as they desire, or attaine not the same, and are wholie be [...]t vpon hope alwaies instable and mutable, which must needes befall those that liue in suspen [...]. Their whole life is in expectati­on, and they teach and inforce themselues to dishonest and difficult things, and whereas their labour is in vaine they are vexed with their fruitlesse disgrace: neither are they sorie because they haue done euill, but that they willed the same in vaine. Then repent they themselues that they had begun and feare [Page 637] to beginne it againe, and afterward they are surprised with a confusion of the mind which cannot find issue, because they neither can commaund nor obay their desirres, so that they lead a life which cannot bee exempt from confusion, and haue their minds tyed and languishing amidst fruitlesse vowes and desires: and all these are more grieuous vnto them, wh [...]n as in despight of that misfor­tune that trauaileth them, they would haue recourse vnto repose, and to secret s [...]udies which the mind canot endure, that is fixed on the affaires of the world, desirous to be in action, by nature vnqui [...]t, and hauing little solace in himselfe. And therefore their delights being drawne from them, which their occupati­ons minis [...]red vnto them, b [...]ing busied in certainty therein, the mind endureth neither house nor solitud [...], the walles are displeasant to him, and being thus a­bandoned by himselfe, he vnwillingly beholdeth himselfe. From thence pro­ceedeth this tediousness [...], this contempt of himselfe, this perpetuall agitation of the mind, this sad and feeble patience in repose, especially when hee is asha­med to confesse the cause, when shame tormenteth him inwardly, when coue­tous desires close vp his heart, when none of these finding issue strangle one an­ther. Thence commeth that sadnesse and consumption, and a thousand flouds and assaults of the vncertaine mind, held in suspence by the enterprises he hath begunne, abated by the remembrance of the remedilesse estate of his present affaires. Th [...]nce groweth that thought which maketh them detest the repose they enioy, complaine themselues that they haue nothing to do [...], and to beare endlesse hatred and enuie at other mens prosperitie; For vnhappy idlenesse is the nurse of enuie, and all of them desire to be dead because they could not out­strippe others. This enuie concieued against other mens fortunes, and his own disgraces causeth the mind to fret and murmure against fortune, to accuse the mallice of the time, to retire himselfe into some corner apart, and to stoope vn­der his torment in fretting and consuming himselfe. For mans mind is swift and ready to be mooued, and reioyceth very much when any occasion is offered to exercise himselfe. But aboue all others this pleaseth those men that are malig­nant, whose minds are sharpened and ordinarily whetted in mannaging affaires. Euen as there are certaine vlcers that are glad to bee rubbed, and desire to bee handled, and the itch is not content except a man scratch it; So these spirits which are seazed with desires, as with malignant vlcers, take no pleasure but in trauaile and affliction; For there are certaine infirmities which delight our bo­dies with a kind of paine, witnesse those that turne themselues on this side, now on that, and refresh themselues in changing their bed. Such was Achilles in Homer, sometimes he lay vpon his belly, then vpon his backe, and could neuer remaine in one [...]state. It is the true act of a sicke man not to be able to suffer any thing long time, but to thinke that his health consisteth in his toss [...]ng and tur­ning. Hence are diuers trauels vndert [...]ken, and shoares sought out, and lenitie which is alwaies an enemie to those things which are present, now by sea, and then by land, aduentureth daily. Let vs goe now into Campania, now that de­licate soyle delighteth vs, let vs visite the wood countries, let vs visite the forrest of Calabria, and let vs seeke some pleasure amidst the deserts, in such sort as these wandring eyes of ours may be relieued in beholding at our pleasure the strange solitude of these sauage places. We must go see Tarentum & that hauen so much esteemed, and the ayre so sweet in Winter, & the stately houses of these ancient people. Let vs returne to Rome backe again, our eares haue too long time been e­strāged from the applause of the Theater & the Circensian sports, now would I take pleasure to see mens bloud spilt. Behold here how one voyage begetteth [Page 638] another, and how after we haue seene one thing we long for an other.

After this manner each man flies himselfe.

But what pro [...]iteth him to flie if hee cannot escape, hee runneth after himselfe, and hath a very dangerous company that attendeth him. L [...]t vs therefore know that the euill that presseth vs, commeth not from the place but from our selues. There is no affliction how light soeuer it be that is not ouer-waighty for vs, we are neither patient of labour or pleasure, we cannot beare our owne af­faires, nor any thing else. Some by reason hereof haue procured their owne d [...]aths, b [...]cause that oftentimes hauing changed their deliberation, they fell backe againe alwaies into the same, and mette with nothing that is newe, by meanes whereof both their life and this world beganne to displease them, and the words which are the signes of foolish and enraged pleasures come into their heads. How long shall we alwaies see the same?

CHAP. III.

For a first reme­dy [...]e r [...]qui [...]eth th [...]t t [...]e mi [...]d sh [...]u [...]d b [...] o [...]cupi­ [...]d [...]n [...]m [...] [...]oca­tion w [...]ch mi [...]t [...]e pro [...]itable to oth [...]rs. THou askest mee what remedie I thinke necessary against this per­plexitie. It shall be good (as Athenodoras counsaileth vs) to de­taine our selues in affaires of estate, and to serue the common-weale. For as some spend the day in taking the sunne, and in ex­ercises [...] and care of their bodies, and as it is profitable [...]or wrast­lers to employ the most part of their time in exercising their armes and strength wherevnto they haue onely dedicated themselues; so is it requisite for vs who prepare our minds to the managing of publique affaires to bee alwaies in acti­on. For hee that hath resolued himselfe to become profitable to his Citizens, yea, vnto all men at one time doth two things, handling (according to that in­deauour that is giuen him) both the p [...]blique and his perticular affaires. But b [...]cause (saith he) in this so mad ambition of men, where so many detractors wrest all things to the worst; simplicity is scarce secure, and there will bee al­waies more lets then succesfull euents, w [...] ought to retire our selues from the managing of publique affaires; considering this that a well se [...]led heart hath the meanes to shew it selfe in his priuate house. It fareth not so with men who for the most part haue their actions secret and hidden, as with Lyons and other bruit beasts, who are locked vp in their grates to restraine their furie; yet in such sort ought a man to seeke out solitude, that wheresoeuer hee remaineth in quiet, he may desire that the vigor of his mind, his speech and action may serue euery one in perticular and all in generall. For not onely hee alone serueth the Common-weale that produceth the Candidates to sue for offices, that defen­deth the accused, who giueth his aduise as touching the affaires of peace and warre, but also that other that instruct youth, that in so great want of good ma­ners informeth mens minds with vertue that layeth hold on, and restraineth those who are addicted to auarice and dissolution, or at least wise that hinde­reth them from passing further, and who in his priuate house procureth the publique good. Who doth more, either the Iudge in a Cittie that with his as­sistant pronounceth a briefe sentence in a processe that straungers and Citizens haue before him: or he that teacheth what iustice is, that sheweth what piety, wisedome, purenesse, contempt of death are, and how excellent a goad a good conscience is? If then thou employest thy time in studie, thou hast not lost, these honours that are due to the execution of thy charge concerning the pub­lique, [Page 639] neither shalt thou be exempted from the same. Neither is he a souldier that standeth in the front of the battell and defendeth both the right and left wings: but he also that gardeth the gates, and standeth sentinel in a place though not so daungerous, yet necessary, and keepeth his watch that hath the gouern­ment of the Ammunition house; which charges though they bee not bloudy, yet haue they (that execute them) their pay as well as the rest. If thou shalt re­tire thy selfe to thy studies, thou shalt auoyd all care that tortureth mans life, thou shalt not be troublesome to thy selfe nor vnprofitable to others; thou shalt get thee many friends, and the better sort of men will accept thee. For vertue, although shee be poore and abiect, yet is shee neuer obscured, but she sheweth the beames of her brightnes a farre off, and whosoeuer is capable will acknow­ledge, and follow her steps. For if we renounce all conuersation and flie from humane societie, and liue onely to our priuate respect, this solitude depriued of all honest occupation will find nothing at last whereto to addict her selfe; we shall beginne to build some houses, and to ouer-turne others; we shall t [...]rne the sea out of his place; we shall cause the riuers to alter their courses, and dispence the time very euilly, which nature gaue vs to bestow well. Sometimes we are too sparing, sometimes ouer-prodigall, some of vs imploy the same in such sort that we can yeeld no account thereof, others haue none left them. And there­fore there is nothing more shamefull to see an old man (that to approue that he hath liued long time in this world) can produce no other witnes but the num­ber of his yeares. For mine owne part (my dearest Serenus) mee thinkes that Athenodoras submitted himselfe too much to times, and fled from them ouer­hastilie. I confesse well that we ought somtimes to retire our selues but leasure­ly, and with a secure retreat, our ensignes displaied, and without empeachment of our worldly dignitie. They are more valiant and more assured then their Conquerours that make a faire and honest retreat. So in my opinion ought ver­tue to behaue her selfe, and if the inconstancy of worldly affaires disturbe all, and taketh away from a vertuous man the meanes to doe good; yet for all this ought he not to turne his back, nor to cast away his weapons to saue himselfe by flight, and to thrust himselfe in a secret place, as if there could bee any corner where fortune could not find him out: but he ought to be lesse busie in affaires, and find out some expedient with iudgement to make himselfe profitable to his Countrie. Is it not lawfull for him to beare armes? let him aspire to some publique charge: must he not liue priuately? let him plead. Is he put to silence? let him helpe his Citizens by his priuate counsell. Is it dangerous for him to en­ter the iudgement place? let him shew himselfe a faithfull friend, a gracious companion, a temperate guest in houses, in Theaters, at feasts. If hee haue lost the office of a Citizen? let him vse that of a man. And therefore with a great mind haue we not shut our selues within the walls of one Citty, but haue thrust our selues into the conuersation of the whole world, and haue professed that the world is our Countrey, that wee might giue vertue a more spacious field to shew herselfe in. Is the Tribunall shut against thee, art thou not admitted to plead, or to assist the common Counsels of the Citty? looke backe and see what great Nations and peoples are behind thee, neuer shall so great a part bee kept from thee, that a greater be not left thee. But beware that all this proceed not [...]rom thine owne error: for thou wilt not vndertake a publique charge except thou be a Consull, a Pritanes, an Embassador, a supreame Dictator. What if thou wilt not be a Souldier except thou bee a Commander or a Tritane? although that others haue the vaunt-gard, and fortune hath put thee in the rere-ward, [Page 640] doe thy deuoire in that place, fight with thy voyce, thy exhortation, and thy courage. He also that hath his hands cut off in fight, findeth some meanes to animate his companions, who standeth onely and encourageth them with cry­ing. So must thou doe if fortune hath drawne thee from the first ranke of pub­lique charge, yet stand thou and helpe with thy crying. If thy mouth bee stop­ped, yet stand; and helpe with thy silence. The industry of a good Citizen is neuer vnprofitable, for by his hearing, by his sight, by his contenance, by his becke, by his obstinate silence, and by his very gate, he may profit. Euen as cer­taine holesome drugs by their onely smell (without either touch or tast) doe comfort greatly; so vertue, whether it be sowed or locked in it selfe, whether it be by authority, or by accident, whether shee bee constrained to scantle her sailes, or to be idle or mute, confined in a straight, or lodged at large, spreadeth a farre and vnperceiued, performeth some great and profitable good. In briefe, she serueth in whatsoeuer estate and countenance shee bee considered. What? thinkest thou that the example of a man that liueth retired and to purpose, is of little vse? I say, that it is an act of a singuler vertue to know how to forsake af­faires, and to repose himselfe, when as the actiue liue being hindered by diuers accidents, or by the condition of estate cannot effect his designes. For neuer see we affaires brought to that extreamity but that a vertuous man hath the means to do somewhat that is good. Canst thou find a Citty more wretched then that of the Athenians was, at such time as thirty Tyrants rent it in pieces. They had put to death Thirteene hundred of the most nobles and most vertuous in the Cittie, and for all that cruelty ceased not thus but incensed it selfe, and aug­mented daily. In that Citie which was adorned with the most venerable Coun­sell of the Arcopagites, where there was a Senate and an assembly of people wor­thy of so worthy an assembly of Senators; there were gathered daily a mise­rable troope of murtherers, and a wretched court of tyrants, too small to con­taine them. Could this Citie be in repose wherein there were so many tyrants as there were Souldiers? There was not any hope for these poore Citizens to recouer their libertie, nor any remedie whatsoeuer against such a multitude of mischiefes. For where is it that this poore Citie might find so many Harmodians? Notwithstanding (all these miseries) Socrates was in the middest of them, who comforted the mournfull Fathers, and exhorted those that despaired of the Common-weale, and reproued the rich (who feared their goods) for the ouer­late repentance of their dangerous auarice, and to those that would follow him, beare about a worthy example, whilest amongst the thirtie tyrants hee walked confident and free. Yet this man did the Athenians murther in prison, and hee that safely insulted ouer the troopes of tyrants, his libertie could not a free City endure and hearken to, to the end thou mayest know, that a wise man hath an occasion to shew himselfe in an afflicted Common-weale; and how in a flouri­shing and blessed state many enuie, and a thousand other disarmed Citties doe raigne. Howsoeuer therefore the Common-wealth is disposed, howsoeuer fortune permitteth, so either may we enlarge or contract our selues, prouided alwaies that we be stirring, and suffer not our selues being chained with feare to be dulled and astonished. Nay he shalbe truely a man who (when as daungers are eminent euery waies, and when as swords and chaines thunder in his eares) neither breaketh his fortune, nor hideth it. Curius Dentatus was woont to say, That he had rather be dead then liue. It is the last of all euills to depart from the number of the liuing before thou diest. But thou art to endeauour, that if thou light on such a time wherein thou canst not intermeddle with the Common-weale [Page 641] without danger, to vsurpe more time for thy repose and studie, and no o­therwaies then in a dangerous nauigation make saile towards the hauen, neither exspect thou, vntill such time as affaires leaue thee, but dis-ioyne thou thy selfe from them.

CHAP. IIII.

FIrst, The meanes to effectuate this remedy is to flie vaine [...]lorie, foo­lish bashfulnes, pride, wrath, and follie. therefore we ought to examine our selues; next, what busines we vndertake; lastly, what they are for whose cause wee vnder­take them, or with whome wee deale. Aboue all things a man ought to estimate himselfe, for, for the most part in our owne iudgements, we seeme to be able to do more then we can. There is one that looseth himselfe in ouer-trusting his owne eloquence; another hath spent more then his reuenue mounteth to; another hath oppressed his weake body with laborious offices. There are some that are to bashful to entermeddle with ciuill affaires, which require a confident countenance and resolution: some mens contumacy is vnfit for Court; some there are who haue no gouernment ouer their wrath, and euery slight occasion driueth them to intemperate lan­guage; some cannot refraine from iesting, neither can they abstaine from dan­gerous gybing. To all these, repose is more profitable then businesse: a fierce and impatient man by nature will auoyd the prouocations of harmefull libertie.

CHAP. V.

NExt of all these things which we vndertake are to bee estimated, That wee charge not and occupie not ourselues a­boue measure. and our forces are to be compared with those things which wee wil attempt. For there must alwais be a greater force in him that beareth, then in the burthen. These waights must needs beare him down, that are greater then he is that carrieth them. Besides there are [...]ome affaires that are not so great as they are fruitfull, and breed ma­ny other businesse, and these are to be auoyded, from whence a new and diuers occasion of trouble ariseth: neither must thou aduenture thither, whence thou canst not freely returne againe. Set thy hand to these things, whose end thou mayest either effect or at least-wise hope. These things are to be left that extend themselues farther then the act, and end not there where thou intendedst they should.

CHAP. VI.

WEE must likewise make some choyce of men, He aduiseth vs to shun the se­crets of vngrate­full persons, and such as are proud who thinke that all the world is bound vnto thē, and feed on no­thing but vaine glorie. and to consider whether they are worthie on whome wee should employ a part of our life, & whethe [...] the losse of our time may be redeemed to our profite. There are some that thinke that wee are bound to doe them pleasure before wee bee desired. Athenodorus saith, that he would not goe to supper with him who would not thinke it a curtesie in him to accept the same. I belieue thou conceiuest, that much lesse would hee be inuited by them, who requite their friends curtesies with feasts, and account [Page 642] their many dishes for a debt, as if they were intemperate to do an other man ho­nour, take from them their witnesses and spectators, they will conceiue no de­light in their secret banquets. Thou art to consider whether thy nature bee more apt for publike busines, or for idle study and contemplation; and thether art thou to encline, whether the vigour of thy minde carrieth thee. Isocrates being laide holde on by the Ephone, withdrew himselfe from publike pleas, supposing himselfe to bee more fitte and profitable to write histories; for in­forced wits neuer satisfie expectation, and the labour is in vaine where nature repineth against it.

CHAP. VII.

A remedy a­gain [...]t a trou­b [...]d mind, is to [...]aue a [...]rusty friend. YEt nothing will so much delight the mind as a faithful and pleasing friendship: how great a good is it when the hearts are prepared, wherein a man may safely burie all his secrets, whose conscience thou fearest le [...]se then thine owne, whose words may terrifie thy discontents, whose counsels can resolue thy doubts, whose mirth may dissipate thy sorrow, and whose countenance may comfort thee? Such friendes as these let vs make choice of as farre as is possible for vs: for vices creepe into vs, Marks to show and know what friend [...] wee ought to choose. and inuade euery one that is neerest them, and hurt by touch­ing. Therefore as in the plunge wee ought to take heed, lest wee sit by these who are already attainted, and infected with the burning sicknesse, because thereby wee shall incurre danger, and be poisoned with their very breath; so must wee endeauour in the choice of our friends, that wee admit such as are least polluted. It is a beginning of sicknesse to accompany those that are infe­cted: neither will I enioyne thee this to follow and contract friendship with none, except hee bee a wise man; for where wilt thou finde out such a one, whom for so many ages wee haue sought after? but wee are to take him for the best who is the least euill. Scarce couldst thou make a happier choice, hadst thou leaue to se [...]ke for good men amongst Platoes and Zenoph [...]ns, or amidst the the troupe of Socrates Schollers, or if it were granted thee to reuiew the time wherin Cato liued, which as well brought forth many that were worthy to bee borne in Catoes age, as many worse then euer were, who were the plotters of many hainous crimes. For their vices need of both sorts, to the end that Cato might be the better knowne. Of good, by whom hee might approue himselfe; of bad, Who they are that are not to be enterta [...]ned into frien [...]ship. in whom he might make triall of his forces; yet especially let such bee auoided, who are melancholy and deplore all things, who, vpon euery occasi­on are ready to complaine, although his faith and beneuolence be vnfained, yet so distempered a companion, that grieueth and grudgeth at all things, is an e­nemy to tranquility.

CHAP. VIII.

LEt vs passe ouer to riches which are the causes of all mens miseries: for, The third reme­dy is now to feare pouerty, because the poore haue many aduātages aboue the rich. if you compare all things whereat we are agrieued, as deaths, sicknesses, feares, de [...]ires, patience of sorrowes, and labours, with those euils which our money ministreth vnto vs, this part will weigh heauiest: wee ought therefore to bethinke vs, how farre [Page 643] lighter the sorrow is not to haue them, then to lose them, and wee shall vnder­stand that pouerty hath by so much the lesse torments, by how much she hath the lesse matter of losse: for thou art deceiued, if thou thinkest that rich men do with greater courage endure their losses. The pain of a wound is equall both in the greatest and smallest sadnes; Bion speaketh very elegantly, That it is no lesse troublesome for those that are balde, to haue their haires pulled of, then to those that haue but hie lockes. Know thou this both in rich and poore, that they haue equall torments; for both of them tolde their money, neither without griefe and sence thereof could they endure to lose it. But as I said, it is more tollerable & easie not to get riches, then to lose them, and therfore shall you see them more merry, whom fortune neuer lookt vpon, then those whom she hath forsaken. Diogenes saw this, who was a man of a great mind, and endeauoured himself that nothing might be taken from him. Call thou this pouerty necessity, or want, and impose whatsoeuer ignominious name thou list vpon security, I will not thinke this man happy if thou finde me out an other that can lose nothing. But I am deceiued, if it be not a Kingdome among the couetous, the deceiuers, the thiefe, and lewde persons, that there is one that may not be hurt. If any man doubt of Diogenes felicity, hee may likewise doubt of the estate of the immor­tall gods, whether they liue blessedly enough, because they haue no fieldes, nor gardens, nor lands for a husbandman to plow vp, not a great banke of mo­ney in the market place. Art thou not ashamed whosoeuer thou art that ad­mirest riches? Behold I pray thee the heauens throne, shalt thou see the gods naked, giuing all things, hauing nothing. Thinkest thou him poore, or like vnto the immortall gods, that hath dispoiled himselfe of all transitory things. Callest thou Demetrius more happie who was Pompies Libertine, because hee was not ashamed to bee more richer then his Master? Euery day was the num­ber of his seruants brought vnto him, as the master of an Army to a Generall, who for all his riches should haue long since contented himselfe with two ser­uants, and a lesser seller. But Diogenes onely seruant ranne away from him, neither thought he him so much worthy as to recall him when hee was shewed vnto him. It were a shame (saith he) that Manes could liue without Diogenes, and Diogenes could not liue without Manes. A continent speech of Dio­genes. Mee thinke hee said, meddle with thine owne businesse Fortune, thou hast no more power Diogenes. Is my seruant run away? no, hee is departed free. A family requireth maintenance, men must take charge of the feeding of so many greedy beasts, rayment must be bought, thiefes hand-sell preuented, and such as weepe and detest, must be admitted to seruice. Hence, far more, happy is hee that oweth nothing but to him [...]elfe, whom he may easily deny: but because wee haue not so much strength, our patrimonies be to be husbanded that wee may be lesse exposed to the iniuries of [...]ortune, An excellent example to shew the aduantages of the poore. The bodies of meanest proportion and who may locke themselues in their armes, are more addressed then those great and vnweeldy bodies, which by reason of their length and thicknesse are exposed to strokes. The best measure in riches is that which neither falleth into pouerty, neither is farre estranged from pouerty.

CHAP. IX.

The fourth re­medy is to keepe a measure in de­sire, gathering, possessing & vsing worldly goods. ANd this measure will bee well pleasing vnto vs, if first of all parci­mony content vs, without which neither any riches will suffice vs, neither any proue great enough, especially wheras the remedy is at hand, and pouerty it selfe by the assistance of frugality may conuert it selfe into riches. Let vs accustome our selues to remoue pompe from vs, and to measure the ornaments of our honour by the necessary vse of things. Let our meat appease famine, or drinke thirst; let our desires be appeased by things that are necessary. Let vs learne to walke vpon our owne feete, not to cloath and feed our selues according to euery new fashion, but as the custome of our Ancestors perswadeth vs vnto. Let vs learne to encrease continēcy, to decrease lasciuiousnes, to temper our excesse, to pacifie our wrath, to behold pouerty with equall eyes, to respect frugality, although wee will bee ashamed to yeeld such remedies to our naturall desires as cost very little, to haue vnbridled hopes, and our mind that dependeth on future things, kept as it were vnder bonds, to behaue our selues so that we require not our riches at fortunes hand, but rather from our selues. So great varietie and iniquitie of casualties cannot (I say) be so repulsed, that many stormes presse not vpon those that rigge forth much Shipping. Our affaires must be drawne into a straight, to the end that aduersities may attempt vs in vaine. And therefore banishments and ca­lamities haue sometimes become remedies, and those incommodities that are most grieuous haue beene healed by lighter, where the mind is disobedient to precepts, and will not be cured by gentle means. But why may not this be pro­fitable? If both pouerty and ignominy, and the ouerthrow of a mans fortunes accompany these: one euill is opposed against another. Let vs therefore accu­stome our selues to be able to sup without any guests, to be serued with lesse at­tendants, to be apparelled according to our necessities, and to dwell more reti­redly. It is not only in the course of the Circean sports; but also in the Cariers of this life that we ought to retire and contract our selues. And in studies likewise (wherein the charge is most commended) so long will I haue a reason as I haue a measure. To what end serue so many infinite Bookes and Libraries when as their Maister in all his life time can scarcely ouer-read their Tables? A multi­tude of bookes burtheneth and instructeth him not that learneth, and it is bet­ter for thee to addict thy selfe to few Auth [...]rs, then to wander amongst many. Forty Thousand bookes were burned at Alexandr [...]a, a worthy monument of kingly riches. Some men may praise this as Titus Liuius did, who sayth, That it was a worke that shewed the magnificēce and wondrous care of Kings. But this was not magnificēce or any other laudable act, but a studious excesse. Nay more, it was not studious, because they had gathered them, not to profit studies, but to shew th [...]ir pompe, as it falleth out with diuers ignorants, who scarce knowing the let­ters wherin their slaues are exercised, heap vp book [...] not as instruments of study, but ornaments of their suppers. Let vs therefore gather so many books as may suffice, and collect nothing for ostentation sake. It shall be more honest (sayest thou) to employ my mony herein, then in vessels of Corinth and painted Ta­bles. That is euery wayes vicious where there is ouermnch. Why wouldest thou lesse pardon him that would get reputation by meanes of his Marble and Iuorie, then another that searcheth thorough all Countries to buye vnknowne Authors, and happily such as are reprooued and censured, and doth nought else [Page 645] but breath vpon his bookes, If a great com­pany of bookes be not accom [...]anied with a seri [...]us s [...]u­dy, and w [...]ll [...]o­uerned, that is but a [...]e [...]k [...]rie. and takes no pleasure but in their couers, or in their titles? Thou shalt ordinarily see amongst the most idle, whatsoeuer Orators or Histories there are, and their studies filled vp from the top to the bottome: And at this day amongst the bathes and stoues are Libraries builded, as if they were a necessary ornament in the house. But all these works of learned men ex­cellently written, bound vp, and inriched with their pictures, are bought to no other end but for show and beautifying of wal [...].

CHAP. X.

BVt it may be thou art falne into some troublesome and difficult course of life, The fift remedie is to endure qui­etly the di [...]icul­ties of a mans vocation, and to accustome him­selfe because he seeth that plea­sures are inter­mix [...]d with per­plexities. and ere thou knewst it; some fortune either pub­lique or priuate hath entangled thee [...] in such sort, as thou neither canst loose or break the bonds. Think with thy selfe, that such as are fettered at the first can hardly beare their shackles or the irons on their legs, but afterwards being better resolued doe suffer the same, and con­clude to endure them patienly, necessity teacheth them to sustaine them con­stantly, and custome easily. Thou shal [...] find in whatsoe [...] kind of [...] be, delights, remissions, and pleasures, except thou hadst not rather think [...] euill, then make it hatefull. The greatest good that we haue r [...]cieued by n [...]ture is, that she foreseeing how many troubles wee are to endure in this wor [...]d hath found out a remedie to [...]en [...]e the same, which is custom [...], which in [...] maketh the greatest euils familiar and supportable; no m [...]n [...]ou [...]d endur [...] it if the continuance and sence of aduersitie were [...] bi [...]t [...]r as [...] we are all of vs coupled by fortune, some of vs haue a [...] some a more base and sordide inth [...]almen [...]. But what skilleth [...] all of vs are enuironed with the same guard, and they that [...]nchai [...]e o [...] [...] a [...]en­chained themselues. It may be [...] thou think [...]st that the cha [...]e which i [...] tyed [...]o the left arme waieth not as much as that on the right. Some are [...] by their honours, other some by their base [...]a [...]e. These are [...] subiec [...] to an­others emperie, others are vassals to them [...]elues [...] ther [...] are some that are confi­ned in one place, others that are arrested by [...]o [...] charges that are co [...]itted vnto them. All our whole life is a serui [...]de [...] we ought herefore to accustome our selues to our condition [...] and no waies to complaine of the same, [...] to ap­prehend all those commodi [...]ies which are [...]bout vs. Th [...]re is nothing so di [...]ast­full wherein an equall mind cannot find some solace. Ostimes a [...] ingenious man may write infinite things in the smallest tables, and [...]ee [...] knoweth how to march readily, maketh the straightest aboa [...]d habitable [...] find. Adde reason to thy difficulties, for the ha [...]des [...] things may bee in [...] the straightest layd open, and those things that are most grieu [...]s presse them least that discreetly can endure them. Besides [...] desires are not to be [...] sent [...]arre off from vs, but let vs suffer them to houer neare abo [...]t vs, because they endure not to bee restrained whol [...]e. Leauing those thing [...] which either cannot bee done or hardly can be a [...]chieued; let vs follow those things that ar [...] near [...] [...]s, and are [...]n­swerable to our hopes. Y [...]t let vs know, that all that wh [...]ch outwardly [...]at [...] di­uers appearances is equally light, and inwa [...]dly [...] le [...] vs [...] those that are more highly preferred, those thing [...] that see [...]e most highest are in most danger. They likewise whom aduersity holdeth in suspence shall b [...]e more assured by withdrawing pride from those thing [...] which of thems [...]l [...]s are [Page 646] proud, and reducing their fortune (as much as in them lyeth) to an humble place and out of danger. There are many that are inforced to remaine in their high degree, from whence they cannot descend but by falling, but yet it behoo­ueth them to beare witnes, that the greatest waight they beare vpon their backs is to know, that they are constrained to bee grieuous and troublesome vnto o­thers. That they are not relieued but tyed vnto their charge, and that by iu­stice, clemency, and humane laws, and by a gratious manner of demeanour they prepare themselues diuers succours and defences against the assaults of fortune that may happen, by the hope whereof they may bee more assured in their fe­uers. There is nothing that can so much exempt these men from these agitati­ons of the minds, then alwayes to prefixe a certaine limit to their encrease, and not to attend till fortune retire them from the same, but to take counsell of themselues, not to attend the extremities. So some desires, but they finite, shall acuate their minds, and shall not be infinite nor vncertain.

CHAP. XI.

He maintain [...]th alwayes the doctrine of the Stoickes, and distinguisheth the s [...]u [...]ous from the wise, whom he raiseth aboue al humane fortunes, and describeth him here with his contentments. THis Discourse of mine appertaineth to ignorant persons, and such as haue little knowledge, and are of depraued iudgement, not vn­to a wise man. For hee must not walke fearefully or slowly. For so great a confidence hath he in him selfe, that hee doubteth not to en [...]ounter Fortune, neither will he euer giue place vnto her; neither hath he cause at any time to feare her, because not onely he numbreth his starres, his possessions, and dignities, but his owne body likewise, his eyes & hands, and whatsoeuer it be that maketh his life deare vnto him, yea, himselfe, as things that are hired, and liueth as though hee were but lent vnto himselfe, ready to restore the whole willingly to those that redemand the same; neither therefore mispraiseth hee himselfe, because hee knoweth that hee is not his owne, but so diligently and circumspectly shall he doe all things, as a religious and holy man is wont to doe with those things that are committed to his trust. And whensoeuer hee shall bee commanded to make restitution, hee will not question with fortune, but will say, I giue thanks for that I haue possessed, and had: It hath cost mee much to entertaine those things which thou hast giuen mee, but because thou commandest me, I gratefully and willingly restore them againe, and if thou wilt haue ought continue in my hands, euen now will I keep it, if thou bee other wayes minded, I restore vnto thee, and redeliuer into thy hands, my money and plate, my house and family whatsoeuer. If nature sum­mon vs which first gaue vs credit, to her will wee answere. Receiue a minde better then thou gauest me, The seuenth remedy is not to prise this life, nor that which [...]ee possesse more then we neede, but to dispose our selues cou­ragiously vnto death, and to whatsoeuer ca­sually. I neither delay nor hide my selfe, I willingly and readily deliuer thee it which thou gauest me when I knew it not. Take it to thee; what euill is it to returne to that place from whence thou camest? He shal liue badly that knoweth not how to die well. Wee must therefore aboue all things set light by this life, and account our soules amongst the number of those things that are not ours: We hate (saith Cicero) those skirmishers, if in any sort they desire to beg their liues, wee [...]auour them if they pretend to contemne the same: Know that the like befalleth vs; for oftimes the cause of dying, is to die fearefully: that fortune that maketh sport for her selfe, whereto saith shee shall I reserue thee wretched and fearefull Creature as thou art? thou shalt receiue more wounds and skarres, because thou knowest not how to yeeld thy throat: [Page 647] but thou shalt both liue longer, and die sooner, that manfully entertainest thy death, not in plucking backe thy necke, or opposing thy hands. Hee that shall feare death, will neuer doe any thing worthy a liuing man: but he that know­eth that this ordinance of life and death was decreed and presently ordered in him, at such time as hee was conceiued, he will liue according to the rule and ordinance was prefixed him, and this likewise with no lesse constancy of mind will hee per [...]orme, that none of those things that befall him, may seem sodain to him: for to foresee that which is to come, as though it were already past, is the meane to repulse the assaults of all necessities, which shake not these who attend them constantly, and know that there is nothing new in them: but they oppresse those men that make themselues beleeue t [...]at no misfortune shall e­uer surprise them, and who thinke on nothing but pleasure and content; for there is no sodainenesse eyther in sicknesse, or in captiuity, or in ruine or in fire: For I know well into what tumultuous retreat of dangers nature had loc­ked [...]e: so oftimes haue men cried fire and water amongst my neighbours, so oftimes haue the torches and tapers which were carried before the dead bo­dies of this or that mans children past by my dores? Oft haue I heard the noice of high buildings that sodenly fell downe to the ground. one night hath carri­ed away diuers friends that I had made in the Pallace, in the market place, in company, and hath as it were cut off the hands of those which had promised and sworne fidelity vnto me. Shall I wonder then that those dangers that haue houered so long about me, are finally faln [...] vpon me? The most part of those that are ready to set sayle, The eighth re­medy is to re­m [...]mber that all euils that be [...]all vs, and all oth [...]r men cannot hap­pen, and conse­quently to de­taine our selues in good time. thinke not vpon a storme; for mine owne part in doing well I will neuer bee ashamed of the danger that may befall mee. Publius that had a more vehement spirit then either the Tragicke or Comicke Poets had, as often as he had giuen ouer his Mimicke foperies, and such as ordi­narily hee vsed to delight the common people: amongst many other wordes, not onely beseeming the Comicke but the Tragicke Theame, he vseth these:

That which hapned to one man may chance to euery man.

Whosoeuer beareth these words in his hart, & considereth how many miseries his neighbour suffereth from day to day, and thinketh that they are intended a­gainst him, will arme himselfe long time before hee bee assailed. Too late is the minde instructed to endure danger when their assault is giuen: I would not haue thought [...]hat this should haue been I would not haue beleeued that this should come to passe. And why not? what riches are there that are not readily atten­ded at their heeles with misery, famine and beggery? what dignity is there, what scarlet robe, what Augures purple garment, what noble mans slipper? that is not accompanied with disgrace, banishment, dishonour, imputation, and extreame contempt? what Kingdome is there, for which ruine, desolation, ty­ranny and tormenters are not prepared: neither as these diuided by great spa­ces of time, but there is but a moment of an howre betwixt royalty and capti­uity. Know thou therefore that euery condition is subiect to alteration, and whatsoeuer assaulteth one man, may assaile thee in like sort. Art thou rich? what richer than Pompey? who after that Caius his ancient cosen and new guest had opened Caesars house to locke vp his owne dores, wanted both bread and water, in such sort, that hee who possessed so many riuers, that had their courses and fals within the precinct of his lands, begde for drop [...] of water, and died for hunger and thirst in his kinsmans Pallace, whilest his heire prepared a [Page 648] publike funerall for the starueling. Hast thou had great honours? what so great or so vnexpected, or so generall as Seianus? that very day wherein the Senate conducted him with honour, the people tare him in peeces with fury, and he whom Gods and men had loaden with so many honors as could be heaped vp­on him, had not a mammocke left of him for the hangman to fasten his hooke in. Art thou a King? I will not send thee to Croesus, who was commanded to mount the pile where hee should bee burned, and whence hee descended, ha­uing recouered both his life and kingdom; neither will I send thee to Iugurth, whom the Romane people saw led in triumph that very yeere wherein he was so much feared. We haue seene Ptol [...]my King of Africa, and Mithridates King of Armenia, amongst the number of those Souldiers that were of the Emperor Caligulaes guard; the one of these was sent into banishment, the other wished for it but vnder more faithfull conditions. For hee was slain by the way. In so great in [...]ertainety and muta­bility of affaires, thou reputest not that already done which may bee done; thou giuest aduersity power ouer thy selfe which hee hath broken whosoeuer espied them first. The next after these is, that wee labour not in superfluous and vn­necessary things, The ninth reme­dy is so slie vn­n [...]cess [...]ry occu­pations. that is, that wee neither desire those things which we cannot attaine, or that hauing attained the same, wee feele not ouerlate, and to our great shame the vanity of our couetousnesse, in fine that our trauell bee not vnprofitable & of no effect, or the effect vnworthy our trauell: for for the most part sorrow and sadnes succeedeth by these, if eyther that we expected faile [...], or wee be ashamed of the successe.

CHAP. XII.

WE must cut off these encounters practised by the most part of men, who doe nought else but runne from house to house from the market place to the Theatre. The tenth, to slie vaine curiosity. They entangle themselues with other mens affaires, resembling those who seeme to bee alwayes busie about somwhat. If thou aske any of these that goeth out of his dores: Whether goest thou? what thinkest thou? Hee will answere, verily I know not, but I will visite some friend, I will doe somewhat. They loyter a­bout to no purpose, seeking out businesse, neyther finish they those that they intended, but those they meet by chance. Inconsiderate and vaine is their course, resembling that of the Antes, which creepe along the shrubbes, & now get vp to the toppe, and straight runne downe to the bottome, without ought else doing but running. Such a life doe many men lead, and a man may well say that they are idle without repose. Thou wilt haue compassion of some of those who runne as it were to a fire, and who ouerturne all those that they meet with, and fall vpon them, for they runne to salute some man that will scarce looke vpon them, or goe to attend some stranger to his funerall, or to accompany some Lawyer: or to honour a Bridall, or to follow some Litter, or sometimes to beare it themselues: then returning home very weary and toi­led into their houses, thou shalt heare them sweare, that they knew not why they went out, neither why they left the house, and notwithstanding the next day they will idle it after the same manner. Let therefore all our labour tend to some end, and haue some scope. It is not industry but the false apparance of thinges that tormenteth, and disquiet madde men: for they busie them­selues not without some hope, the exterior beauty of this or that infla­meth [Page 649] them in steade of taxing their vanity, by reason that the sence is occu­pied. In like case are all they, who goe already to the entent to multiply the number of the people that walke about the streetes, are carried away by vaine and light occasions; and he that hath nothing to employ himselfe in, gets him out of dores vpon the day-spring, & after he hath knockt at diuers mens dores, whence he hath beene honestly dismissed by the Porter, and by others, who haue hindered him from entrance; there is no man with whom hee acquain­teth himselfe more vnwillingly then with himselfe. On this euill there depen­deth a most pernicious vice, which is curiosity; search into affaires and secrete knowledge of many things that are dangerous, both to bee spoken and heard. Democritus hauing had proofe hereof, said; That he that will liue peaceably, ought not to intermeddle with many affaires, either priuate or publike. Hauing a reference to those things that are vnnecessary: for if they are necessary, there are not many but innumerable things to bee done, both priuate and publike: but wher­as no solemne office inuiteth vs, our actions are to be restrained.

CHAP. XIII.

FOr he that doth many things yeeldeth himself subiect to fortunes power, To what danger they that are [...]u [...]ious oppose themselues, and why the Wise­man is exempt from these dan­gers. but the surest way is to make triall of her very little, but to thinke alwayes of her, and neuer to put confidence in her. I will sayle except somewhat hinder me; I will be Pretor ex [...]ept some one let me, and my businesse shall come well to passe except some accident crosse it. This is the cause why wee say, that nothing befalleth a wise man contrary to his opinion; wee say not that hee is exempt from the chances of this life, but from the errors; neyther doe all things fall out vnto him as hee wisheth, but as he thought: and first of all he thought that som­what might resist his purposes. The sorrow a man conceiueth, for that hee could not attaine to that which hee pretended, is light, and scarsly toucheth the heart when hee promiseth himselfe not that things shall succeed as hee desired.

CHAP. XIIII.

WE ought likewise to accōmodate our selues to affaires, without pre­suming ouer much of our conceptions. Let vs dispose our selues thether whether Fortune leadeth vs, neither let vs feare the char­ges of our counsels or condition, prouided that leuity transpor­teth vs not, which is a mortall enemy to tranquility: for it must needes bee, that obstinacy is both doubtfull and miserable from which fortune alwayes extorteth somewhat, and leuity much more grieuous, that no waies containeth it selfe: both of these are enemies to tranquility, both too vnable to change any thing, and vnapt to suffer any thing. In all casualties a man ought to retaine his mind farre from all externall things, and to reflect vpon himselfe, to pro [...]ure that hee t [...]ust in himselfe, to reioyce in himselfe, to content him­selfe with his thoughts, to estrange himselfe, as much as he may, from other mens affaires, to apply himselfe to himselfe, not to haue any sence of his losses, and take in good part his aduersities. When Zeno the Stoicke vnderstood that [Page 650] his ship was cast away, and all his goods drowned, Fortune (saith he) willeth me to follow the studie of wisedome more freely. A tyrant threatned the Philosopher Theodorus with death, and that his bodie should not be buried. Thou hast (saith he) an occasion wherein to delight thy selfe; thou hast a pinte of bloud in thy power: For as touching my buriall thou shouldest be a great foole, if thou thinkest that I care whether I rotte aboue or vnder-ground. Cannius Iulius an excellent man, whose glorie is no waies diminished, although he was borne in our age, contested long time with the Emperour Caius; who as Caius was departing from him said vnto him, Least happily thou [...]latter thy selfe with foolish hope, I haue commanded thee to be put to death. I thanke thee (said he) worthy Prince. I know not well what he m [...]ant or thought by these words, for diuers considerations present themselues vnto me. Thought he best to vpbrayd him, and to shew how great his cruelty was, wherein death was a benefite? Or did he reproach him for his ordinary fury? for they gaue him thankes likewise whose children were slaine, and whose goods were taken from them. Or did he willingly entertaine his death as a libertie? whatsoeuer he thought he answered worthily. But some man may say that Caius after this might haue granted him life. Cannius was not affraid of this: Caius faith was too well knowne in such like commands. Thinkest thou that hee passed those ten dayes without feare, betwixt the day of his sentence and that of his execution? It is vncredible to be spoken what words he spake, what he did, and how peace­ably he liued during this delay. Hee was playing at Chesse at such time as the Centurion who ledde a troope of condemned men to death commanded him likewise to be cited. Hauing scarce finished his game he counted his men, and said to him with-whom he played, Beware (saith he) when I am dead that thou be­lyest me not, and sayest thou hast wonne the game. Then nodding his head to the Centurion he added, Beare me witnesse (saith hee) that I haue the vantage of one. Thinkest thou that Cannius cared for the man? no he mocked. His friends were dismaid because they were to loose such a man. Why (saith he) are you sad? en­quire you whether soules be immortall? I shall know it presently. Neither ceased he to search out the truth euen vntill his latter breath, and according to his cu­stome to propose alwaies some question. There followed him a Philosopher of his own traine, and when he approched neere the place where the toombe stood whervpō daily sacrifice was made to Diuus Caesar. Cannius (quoth he) what thin­kest thou now, and whereon fixest thou thy mind? I am resolued (said Cannius) to marke in this most swift moment of time, if the soule shall feele that she is passing forth. And he promised that if he found out any thing, he would returne to euery one of his friends, and tell them what the estate of soules were. Behold Tranquil­lity in the middest of a tempest; behold a mind worthy of eternitie, which summoneth his destinie for an argument of the truth, who seeing himselfe readie to deliuer his last breath, questioned with his departing soule, and that will not onelie learne vntill death, but learneth something likewise out of death it selfe. No man philosophied longer: But this so great a man shall not bee obscured so slightly, his praise shall bee carefully eternized, wee will commend thee to euerlasting memorie. O worthy Cannius, the greater part of Caius cruell murthers.

CHAP. XV.

BVt it profiteth nothing to haue cast away the cause of priuate sad­nesse. The twelft re­medy is that we ought to despise all humane things, beare thē contentedly that are imposed on vs, & laugh with Democritus. For sometimes the hatred of mankind possesseth thee, and a troope of so many fearfull sinnes present themselues, when thou bethinkest thy selfe how rare simplicity is, how vnknowne inno­cency, how sieldome faith, except when it ministreth profite, how the disaduantages of dissolution are as hatefull as the aduantages, and ambition is so excessiue and proud, that she cannot containe her selfe within her limits, and boasteth not but in her villanies. The mind is blinded and obscured, and as if all vertues were ouer-turned, which neither we may hope for, neither is it profitable for vs to haue, darknesse ouer-cloudeth all things; we must ther­fore dispose our selues, that the vices of the common sort be not displeasing vn­to vs, A comparison be­twixt Democri­tus & Heracli­tus. but rather may s [...]me ridiculous, and rather let vs imitate Democritus then Heraclitus. For this man as often as he went abroad wept, and the other laught. To this man, all those things which we doe seemed miseries; to that man, fol­lies: All things therefore are to be set light by, and to be endured with a pati­ent mind; for it is more fitting to laugh at life, then to bewaile it. Adde here­vnto also, that he deserueth better of mankind who laugheth thereat, then he that bewaileth it: for he leaueth some good hope, the other so foolishly be­waileth it, that he dispaireth of the recouery therof, and he that cannot abstaine from laughter, in beholding all that which the world doth, is of a greater mind then the other that spendeth himselfe in teares, when as he meaneth the lightest passion of the mind, & thinketh that there is nothing great, nothing seuere, nor any thing serious in this so great preparation and show of men. Let euerie one present vnto himselfe the occasions which may either dismay or reioyce vs, and he shall know that that which Bion said is true, That all the affaires of men are an­swerable to their beginnings, & that their life is neither more holie nor more seuere then their designes, conceiued onely in their soules: But is better peaceably to behold mens publique manners and imperfection, then torment himselfe thus for o­ther mens afflictions, and inhumane is that pleasure that delighteth in other mens euills; euen as it is an vnprofitable humanity to weepe and counterfeit sadnesse, because some man carrieth forth his child to be buried. In thine own misfortunes likewise it behooueth thee to carry thy selfe so that thou yeeld so much vnto thy sorrow as it requireth, not as custome demandeth. For many men powre forth teares for a shew, and so often haue they their eyes dry as they want witnesses of their sorrow, iudging it an absurd thing not to weepe when all men are discomforted. So deepe an impression hath this euil fixed in our minds, to depend on other mens opinions, that sorrow (which of it selfe is the simplest thing) is conuerted into dissimulation. The thirteenth remedy is to thinke, that good men are neither miserable in their li [...]e nor in their death, and that [...]or the same cause we ought to resemble them. There followeth another point which is accustomed to dismay and make men pensiue, and not without cause, that is, because good men die miserably. As S [...]crates is compelled to dye in prison, Ru­tillius to liue in exile, Pompey and Cicero to yeeld their necks to be strucken off by those whome formerly they had defended, and that Cat [...] (the liuing image of vertues) leaning on his sword should at once loose his life and his Countries li­bertie. It must needs torment vs to see fortune recompence good deserts so vn­iustly, and what now may any man hope for himselfe, when as he seeth the best men suffer the worst afflictions? What shall be done hereupon? Consider how euery one of them behaued himselfe constantly, and if they were valiant desire [Page 652] their minds, if they perished [...]ffeminately and basely, there is nothing lost. Ei­ther they are worthy that their vertue should please thee, or vnworthy that a man should bewaile their cowardise. For what is more hatefull then to see great men dying valiantly, to cause other men to be catifes and cowards? Let vs praise him that was so often worthy to be praised, and say; The more con­stant, the more happy art thou: thou hast fled humane casualties, hatred & sick­nesse, thou hast left thy prison, thou wert not worthy in thy Gods opinion of an euil fortune, but vnworthy against whom fortune might now do any thing: but those that would retire themselues, and in the instant of death looke backe vnto life, must haue hands laid on them. I will neither weepe for any one that laugheth, or any one that weepeth. The one hath himselfe wiped away my teares; the other hath by his teares effected this, that hee is vnworthy of any teares. Shall I weepe for Hercules because hee was burned aliue, or Regulus, be­cause his [...]l [...]sh was pierced with so many nailes, or Cato, because he couragiou­sly endured the woundes he gaue himselfe. All these men by a light expence of time found out the meanes to make themselues eterned, and by dying at­tained to immortality. There is yet another great subiect of carefull thoughts that thou disguise and counterfeit cunningly, The foureteenth remedy is to s [...]e hypocrisie. neither euer shew thy selfe to bee such outwardly, as thou art inwardly, res [...]mbling the liues of many, which ar [...] fained and fashioned o [...]ely for ostentation: for it is a death to stand thus al­waies on our guard, and to feare to be surprised in an other estate then wee are accustomed. Wee are neuer voide of care, as long as this opinion gouerneth vs, & that men estimate our persons as oftentimes as they see vs: for many things fall out which discouer vs in spight of our hearts, and although so retired an obseruation of a mans selfe succeedeth well, yet so it is, that to liue alwaies, thus disguised, doth but afflict and affright the life which would enioy a thou­sand pleasures if shee were beautified with an open and simple manner of acti­on, and set not a vaile before her manners. True it is that this life is an hazard of contempt, if all things were discouered vnto all men; for some there are that disdaine all that which they approch somewhat neare vnto, and obserue, and better were it to bee contemned by reason of simplicity, then to bee tormented with a perpetuall dissimulation. The [...]i [...]teenth, to keep [...] a measure in solitude and conue [...]sation. Yet oughtest thou to keepe a measure, and it importeth thee as very much to be aduised, whether thou liuest simply or neg­ligently; wee ought to retire our selues very inwardly within our selues [...] for the conuersation of those men that are of different humor from vs, disturbeth those things that are well composed, and renueth affections, and exulcerateth whatsoeuer is either weake or vncured in the mind, yet notwithstanding it is need [...]ull to intermixe solitude and freedome together, in such sort as the one may bee practised neere vnto the other. Conuersation will make vs loue our selues, The sixeteenth to giue some re­ [...]ose [...]nto the m [...]nd, acc [...]ding to Socrates, Cato, & Sci­ [...]ione [...] [...]xam­ples. solitude inciteth vs to goe and find out others, the one will comfort the other, solitude will heale the discontent we haue conceiued against the presse of so m [...]ny people that we haue met withall, & to frequent with diuers men reme­di [...]th that discontent which solitude breedeth. Neither is the mind to be en­tertained equally in the same intention, but to be reuoked vnto some pastimes. Socrates was not ashamed to play with children, and Cato made him merry with wine when publique affaires had tyred him, and Scipio exercised his warlike and triumphant body in dauncing (not foolishly as men are woont to do at this day with res [...]uences and trickes that are more then effeminate) but as the ancients were woont to dance in their sports and festiuall dayes, with a decent and come­ly behauiour, whilest no dishhonour or reproch might ensue, though he had [Page 653] beene obserued by hi [...] verie enemies. There must some remission bee gi [...]en to our minds; for after a little repose they will become more better and actiue in all things. Euen as wee ought not to ouerlay our fruitfull lands, lest by con­tinuall fecundity their heart and force [...] be spent and consumed; so continuall labour ruinateth mens minds, if you suffer them to expatiate and delight themselues a while, they will recouer new forces. Continuall trauell dulleth and blunteth the edge of vnderstanding; neither to this vicissitude would the desire of man bend so much, except that sport and pastime had some pleasure and naturall content, the frequent vse whereof taketh away all that which pres­seth and afflicteth our spirits. For sleepe is necessary for disgestion, and if a man continue the same both day and night, it will be death. There is a great dif­ference betwixt giuing some liberty to a thing, and leauing it wholly at ran­dom. The Law-makers haue ordained f [...]stiuall dayes, to the end that men should assemble together to entertaine publike sport, enterposing the same as a necessary temperament and refreshing of trauelles. And as I haue saide, great personages allowed themselues certaine play-dayes in euery moneth, and some other neuer passed day which was not as it were diuided b [...]twixt trauell and repose, such (except I forget my selfe) was that great Orator Asi­nius Pollio, who gaue ouer all occupations after ten of the clocke; nay more, he would not read ordinarie letters, for feare lest some new [...]affaire might fall out, but hee inclosed all the trauel of the day time, from the morning vntil that howre. Some tooke their pleasure about twelue of the clocke, and referred o­uer those affaires that were of smallest importance till after dinner time. The order of the ancient Romans in the manner of their liues. Our Ancestors haue forbidden to make any new report vnto the Senate after ten of the Clocke. The Souldier disposeth his Sentinels by howres, and they that returne from some voyage of warre, are exempted from night-watch. It is a necessary thing to giue liberty to the mind, & to grant him intermission, which may serue to nourish, and reinforce the same; Furthermore, to walke here and there amidst the fields, to the end that hauing free and open aire, hee may bee the more comforted and lightned. Sometimes to goe in Coach, to trauell and change Countries, augmenteth the forces, likewise to make good cheare, and to drinke somewhat freely more then custome, and so farre as wee drowne not our selues in wine, but to drowne our cares in it: for wine driueth away cares, searcheth the secrets of the mind, driueth away all sicknesse, and is the re­medy of sadnes; and therefore B [...]cchus the inuentor of wine was not there­fore called Liber, because of the liberty of his tongue; but bec [...]use he deliuereh mens minds from the seruitude of cares, and maketh them more disposed and forward to attempt any thing. Of the liberty which is some­times allowed good minds. But as a moderation in vsing liberty, so a tem­perance in wine is commendable and wholesome. It is supposed that Solon and Arcesilaus were good drinkers: and Cato was taxed for drunkennes: but who­soeuer reprocheth him in this sort, shall rather proue that this crime of drun­kennesse is an honest thing, then that Cato behaued himselfe dishonestlie. But neither is it to bee done often, le [...]t the mind should contract some euell cu­stome, although at sometimes a man ought to giue him liberty, and present some meanes of delight, and lay asid [...] for a while the ouer seuere and sober ma­ner of life. For if we giue [...]redite to the Greeke Poet.

Its sometimes pleasure to be mad and foolish.

Or Plato, He that is in his right wits, looseth his labour to goe and knocke at [Page 654] the gate of the Muses, or Aristotle. There was neuer any great wit that had not some spice of folly; if the minde bee not stirred, and as it were mounted aboue it selfe, hee can speake nothing highly, nor aboue others. After hee hath con­temned vulgar and ordinary things, and that a holy heate hath raised him a­boue ordinary, then beginneth he to sing with a mortall mouth, I know not what that is more then humane. As long as hee is in himselfe, hee can attaine to nothing that is hie and difficult. Hee must desist from his vsuall custome, and rowse himselfe, and bite the bridle betwixt his teeth, and beare away him that gouerneth him, The meanes how [...]o make all these remedie [...] effectuall. and carrie him thither whether of himselfe hee was affraide to ascend. Thou hast my Serenus these instructions that may conserue and restore the tranquility of the mind, and make head against those vices that dayly steale vpon vs, yet know thou that none of these are for­cible enough for those that slight them ouer, but it behoueth the mind which is inclined to fall and erre, to be re­tained by an intentiue and continuall care.

The End of the Booke of Tranquility and repose of the Mind.

OF THE CONSTANCY OF A WISE MAN: OR, THAT A WISE MAN CANNOT FEELE ANY INIVRIE. WRITTEN BY LVCIVS ANNAEVS SENECA.

The Argument of IVSTVS LIPSIVS.

THis Booke betokeneth a great mind, as great a wit, and much eloquence: in one word it is one of his best. It was published (as I suppose) about the time of the former Booke which he wrote of Tranquillitie, whereunto they annex this, but vnproperly. The Argument is different, and thus handled. He beginneth with the praise of the Stoickes, whose Paradox he debateth vpon, That a wise man is not affected with iniurie. What then? (said Sere­nus) Was not Cato touched with contumelious stroakes and spittings vpon him? From this obiection he entreth into the matter, and yet (saith he) he was not affected with in­iuries. For he was a wise man, and iniurie hath no power ouer a wise man: which not­withstanding (saith he) is spoken in that sence, not that iniuries are not offered him, but that he admitteth them not. This worthily handleth he vntill the fourth Chapter. Then diuideth he that whervpon he is to debate into two parts, by setting downe the difference betwixt Iniurie and Contumelie. Touching the former, he denieth that it is incident to a wise man; and as for the last he admitteth it not. Of Iniurie these are his arguments. A wise man suffereth no euill, but iniurie is an euill thing: Secondly, Iniurie detracteth and diminisheth: but nothing is taken from a wise man, for he hath all things reposed in himselfe and that strongly, as Stilpo. The third. The stronger is not harmed by the wea­ker: and therefore not vertue by malice. Heare it is obected. But was not Socrates vniustly condemned? He was so, but without his iniuries. They profered it him, hee re­iected them by wisedome. As for example, thou giuest me venome, and I represse the force thereof by an A [...]idote: Thou committest the crime, and I suffer. The fourth ar­gument. Iniury is mixed with iniustice, but this befalleth not a wise man; Ergo, not the other. The fift argument. No man profiteth a wise man; Ergo, no man hurteth him. The sixt. Iniury is either through hope or feare: but a wise man is touched with neither of them. The seauenth and last. No man receaueth iniury that is not mooued: A wise man is not mooued. And in this place is the conclusion of the first part, and an exhortation to imprint this lesson in our minds. The other was of Contumeli [...], which he explica­teth in the tenth Chapter what properly it is, and then driueth he it from a wise man. [Page 656] First, because a wise man knoweth his owne greatnes, and therefoe Contumely appertai­neth not vnto him, which hath both her name and being from Contempt. Secondly, Proud and insolent men inferre Contumely; The wise man contemneth such men, and therefore this vice is condemned by them. Thirdly, No man contemneth his superiour or his bet­ter: but such is the wise man. Therfore smileth he at those things that are spoken against him as in banquets at childrens toyes. But what? doth a wise man endure all these things? doth he not correct and moderate them? yes he doth it sometimes, as men are woont to checke their children, not because he hath receaued any iniury, but because they haue done it. And hitherto vntill the 14. Chapter he argueth against Contumely or iniury onely, now refuteth he them both together. By this argument Security is proper to a wise man. It is not if either he entertaine or can admit any of them. The like the Epicures maintain, though not so confidently. In conclusion, he aduiseth vs to reiect diuers flight and friuo­lous things, whereat the common sort are offended, and to laugh at them least we be de­rided. His conclusion is how iniuries are to be borne either by him that seeketh after wise­dome, or him that hath attained the same. The one suffereth it with some touch of mind, and with some resist also. The other with both, and like a conquerour chaseth them be­fore him, and triumpheth ouer them. I repeate it againe; This Booke was written by a man of great mind, let vs confirme our selues thereby in this so great malice both of times and men.

CHAP. I.

He iusti [...]ieth the doctrine of the Stoickes, and dis­couereth their [...]ri [...]htnesse in an [...]mating men to vertue. I May well say (my Serenus) there is as much dif­ference betwixt the Stoickes and other Philoso­phers, as betweene Females and Males, whereas both the one and the other are equally assistant to the good of humane society; but the sects of the Stoicks is borne to command, and the other are made to obay. For other Philosophers han­dle mens infirmities tenderly and flatteringly, as for the most part domesticall and familiar Phisi­tions are woont to doe their sicke patients, not healing them by the best and speediest meanes, but by feeding their humors. The Stoickes entertaining a more constant course, they care not whether their followers find the way pleasant or no, but labour to pull vs presently out of danger, and to conduct vs to so high a place, which is so farre raised aboue any humane miserie, that it ouer-looketh [...]ortune. But the waies whereunto we are called are high and rugged, for who ascendeth to an high place that keepeth the plaine? yet is not the way so difficult as some men suppose. True it is, the first entry ouer is stony, steepy, and seemeth vn­accessible, as they that behold from a farre suppose, that the Countrey through which they trauell, is wholy of one leuell, and hath neither path nor way, which proceedeth from the great distance that deceaueth their sight, but in drawing neerer and neerer, these diuers waies which the error of our eye had confoun­ded, seeme by little and little to be distinct, and that which happened a farre off to be a steepe, prooued afterwards an ordinary path easie end to bee mounted. The occasion of the qu [...]stion.When as of late we happened to discourse of Cato thou wast mightily displeased (as thou art alwaies impatient of iniquitie) because so great a person as hee was was not so well knowen in his time, because (although he were farre more wor­thy [Page 657] then either Pompeys or Caesars) they rancked him lower then the Vati­nians, and it seemed an vnworthy matter in thy iudgement, because that dis­swading the law they tooke from him his gowne in the Market place, and drew him from the place where the lawes were published, as farre as the Arke of Fa­bius, by the hands of the seditious faction, and for that he endured the cruell re­proaches, shamefull spittings, and other contumelies of the vnbridled multi­tude. To this I answere thee at that time, that thou haddest more occasion to be mooued in the behalfe of the Common-weale, which Clodius on one side, and Vatinius, and other wicked men on the other side set to sale, and being blin­ded with couetousnesse sawe not, that in selling their Countrey they likewise sold themselues.

CHAP. II.

AS touching Cato I besought thee not to trouble thy selfe about him, The resolution of the same in a word, the subiect whereof which is Cato is compa­red with Vlisses, and Hercules, wh [...]reat we are not to maruell, because the Stoickes haue ta­ken Cato as the exemplary image of a wise man. for I told thee that a wise man could neither bee iniured by words or deeds: but that the immortall Gods had giuen vs in Cato a more liuing example of a wise man, then either Vlisses or Hercules in former ages. For these haue our Stoickes pronounced to be wise men inuincible in labours, contemners of pleasure, and conquerours in all Countries. Cato contended not with sauage beasts, which Huntsmen and Pesants are to prosecute and hunt; neither by fire and sword subdued he [...] mon­sters; neither liued hee in those times wherein it was thought that one man could carry the whole heauen on his shoulders, for these [...] old fables are out of credite, and men in these daies are better aduised. But he waging warre against ambition, a monster of diuers formes, and with the immesurable desire of rule (which the whole world being diuided into three parts could not satisfie) a­gainst the vices of a degenerate City, that sun [...]ke vnder the waight of her owne burthen, stood alone and vph [...]ld the decaying Common-weale, as much as one hand could then sustaine, vntill such time as being either rauished or torne from his Country, he accompained long time the ruine that he had sustained, vntill such time that such things (which without hainous crimes could not be separa­ted) were extinguished together [...] For neither did Cato liue after liberty was lost, neither liberty after Catoes death. Thinkest thou the people could in any sort iniury this man, because they either tooke from him the Praetorshippe or his Gowne, or soyled his most sacred head with the excrements of their mouths. A wise man is secure, neither can hee bee touched with any iniurie or contu­melie.

CHAP. III.

ME thinks I see thy mind incensed, A reply to this resolutiō, groun­ded on the Para­dox of the Stoickes. and boiling with anger, and thou art addressed to crie out; These are they that lessen the authority of your precepts: you promise great things, and such as neither may bee wished, nor can bee beleeued. Afterwards, after so ma­ny great words, and when you haue denied that a Wise-man is poore, you confesse that oftentimes he hath want of a seruant, of cloathing, of a house, and of meat. Hauing denied that a Wiseman is a foole, you auow that [Page 658] hee is sometimes transported, and that hee speaketh some things vnproperly; in briefe, that hee suffereth himselfe to bee distracted thether, whether the vio­lence of his passion carrieth him. You deny that a Wiseman is a slaue, and yet confesse that hee may be sould, that hee will doe that which is commanded him, and will subiect himselfe as a slaue to all that seruice which his Master shall require at his hands. Thus after you haue braued a long time, you fall into the condition of other men; and there is no difference betweene you but in change of names. I suspect that there is I know not what like in that which you propose, that a wise-man cannot bee outraged eyther in deed or word. But if these be different things; that i [...], if you say, that a Wiseman cannot be angrie, or cannot be iniuried. For if you say that hee endureth the i [...]iurie patiently, hee hath no priuiledge. He pertaketh onely a common good, that is to say, pati­ence, which is learned by a custome of hearing, and bearing iniuries. If thou saeist that hee cannot bee outraged, that is to say, that no man will attempt to doe him iniurie: An answere to this reply. I will giue ouer all other affaires, and become a Stoicke. But my intent is not to dignifie a Wise wan with an imaginary honour of wordes, but to lodge him in such a place where no iniury may attaine vnto him. What then? shall there bee no man that will attempt or prouoke him? There is no­thing so sacred in this world, that meeteth not with some sacriledge. But the gods cease not to be raised aloft, although there bee some so wicked men that will assaile a greatnesse and maiesty, so high placed that they cannot hurt or at­taine vnto. That thing is exempt from harme, not because it is not stroken, but because it is not interessed. By this marke I will make thee know a Wise man. Doubtest thou that an inuincible force, although it be assailed, is no more assured, then that force which is not prouoked, considering that there is not a­ny force in those forces that are vnapproued, and that contrariwise the con­stancy which despiseth all assaults, is iustly helde for the most certaine? So know thou that a Wiseman is more to bee esteemed, because no iniurie can do him harme, then if no man prouoked him any wayes. I will call him a valiant man that is inuincible in warre, that is not astonished vpon the enemies charge, who taketh no pleasure in fatting idlenesse, nor in the conuersation of such as doe nothing. I say then that a Wiseman is not subiect or exposed to a­ny iniury whatsoeuer, neither careth he how many darts are shot against him, since hee knoweth that hee cannot bee pierced. Euen as there are certain hard stones which Iron cannot enter, and the Adamant will neither be cut, filed or bet to powder, Diuers compa­risons to fortifie his answere. but abateth the edge of these tooles that are applied vnto it: as there are certaine things which cannot bee consumed by fire, but continue their hardnesse and habitude amidst the flames; and euen as the rockes that are fixed in the heart of the sea breake the waues, and although they haue beene as­saulted, and bet vpon many infinite times, retaine no impression of the stormes that haue assailed them. euen so the heart of a Wiseman is solid, and hath gathered such force that hee is as secure from iniury, as those I made men­tion of.

CHAP. IIII.

WHat then is there no man that will attempt to doe iniury to a Wise man? Hee particularly describeth the priuiledges of a Wiseman, & first that the outrages th [...] are done vn [...] him, touch him not. yes, hee will attempt, but he shall not attaine vnto him; for hee is so highly raised aboue all the attaint [...] of world­ly things, that there is no violence whatsoeuer, that can aime his attempts so hi [...], be it your Princes and Monarkes, who haue so many engines and seruants at their command, should enforce themsel [...]es to hurt him. All their endeauours shall bee frustrate before a Wise man be offen­ded, euen as Arrowes and Bullets that are shot into the ayre, mount more hie then our sight, but they fall backe againe without touching heauen: what doest thou thinke that that foolish King when hee had darkened the day with the multitude of his arrowes, could hit the sunne with any one of them? that c [...]sting his chaines into the bottome of the sea, hee could haue touched or en­thralled Neptune. Euen as celestiall things are not subiect to humane hands, & they that ouerturne temples, and melt downe Images, doe no wayes hurt the Deitie: The second, that although he is touched, yet endureth he the euill. so whatsoeuer is attempted eyther crabbedly, immodestly, or proudly against a Wiseman, is done in vaine. But it were the better if th [...]re were no man that would attempt the same. Thou wishest the world a thing hard to come by, that is to say, innocencie. As touching those that doe the euill, it were better for them that they did it not, but in regarde of him that endureth the same; it is no euill for him. I will say further, that I thinke tha [...] wisdome disco­uereth the forces of his content, more where hee is barked at and assailed, as security is in an enemies Country, a great argument, of a worthy G [...]nerall, and exercised Captaine. But if thou pleas [...]st my S [...]r [...]nus [...] l [...] vs diuide in­iurie from contumelie. The former of these by nature is more tedious, the other more light and distastfull, onely to those that are delicate, whereby they are not hurt but offended. Yet so great is the dissolution and vanity of mens minds, that some men thinke there is nothing more displeasing and tart. So shall you finde a seruant that had rather bee scourged with whippes, then buffeted with strokes, and that supposeth that death and stripes are more tollerable then contumelious words. The world is grown to that folly, that we are not onely vexed with sotrow, but with the opinion of sorrow also, as children are wont to doe who are affrighted with their shadowes, with deformitie of men, coun­terfeit faces, and are prouoked to teares, when they heare some name that they like not, & start at the motion of our fingers and other things, which the weak­nesse of their iudgement makes them redily condemne.

CHAP. V.

INiurie hath this intent to harme some man. But wisdome leaueth no place for euill: The third, [...]e can neither suf­fer detriment in body or mind, or goods [...], and theref [...]re that [...]e can no wayes bee iniured. for there is no euill for her but vice which can­not enter, there where vertue and honesty dwell; and therfore iniury doth not affect a Wiseman: for if iniurie be the sufferance of some euill; and a Wiseman cannot suffer euill; there is no e­uill that appertaineth to a Wiseman. Euery iniurie is a diminution of him to whom it is offered, & no man may receiue any iniury without some detriment eyther in honour, body or in goods, but a wise man can loose nothing: hee [Page 660] hath all his good inclosed in himselfe; hee no wayes putteth confidence in fortune; hee entirely possesseth his riches, contenting himselfe with vertue, which hath no neede of accidentall things, and therefore may neither increase nor decre [...]se: for hauing attained to the height, there is no place for increase. Fortune taketh away nothing but that which shee hath giuen; shee giueth not vertue, and therefore cannot take it away; vertue is free inuiolable, immuta­ble, assured, and so h [...]rdned against casualties, that shee neyther may bee sha­ken or ouercome. Shee holdeth her eyes fixed against the most dreadfull ob­iects in this world, shee neuer changeth her countenance, whether they pre­sent her with prosperities, or tempt her with aduersities. So then a Wiseman looseth nothing of that which hee perceiueth is subiect to losse [...] for hee is in possession of vertue onely, from whence hee may neuer bee driuen, and vseth other goods as things that are borrowed. But what man is hee that is moued at the losse of that which is not his? but if iniurie can attempt nothing which is proper to a Wise man, The image of vertue confir­med by a succee­ding and notable example. because they are conserued by his vertue, therfore in­iurie cannot bee done vnto a Wis [...]man. Demetrius named Poliorcetes, that is a taker of Cities, hauing brought in subiection the City of Megara, asked Stilpon the Philosopher if hee had lost any thing? No (saith he) for I carry all my goods with me, and yet his house had been ransackt, his daughters rauished, and his Country ruined: But Stilpo got the victory ouer Demetrius, and although his Citty were taken, hee shewed himselfe inuincible, yea exempt from all dam­mage, for hee kept with him the true goods which may well bee laid holde on. But as touching those goods that were pillage and taken from him, hee iudged them not his, but reputed them to be casuall, and such as followed the becke of fortune, and therefore setled hee not his heart vpon them, as if they had been his owne. For the possession of all those things that abound externally, is slip­pery and vnassured. Bethinke thy selfe now, whether either a thiefe, a backbi­tet, a dangerous neighbour, and enuious rich man, or some King broken with olde age could doe him iniurie, from whom warre, and that enemy, who pro­fessed a goodly Art, to subuert and shake Cities, could take away nothing. A­midst so many naked weapons, amidst the tumult of so many outraging soul­diers; betwixt fire & bloud, and the sacke of a City, surprised by assault, amidst the ruine of Temples falling vpon the Gods; one onely man remained quiet and constant. Thou art not therefore to thinke that I promised thee more then I can performe, for if thou wilt not credite me, I will giue thee sureties, for thou scarcely beleeuest that there is so much constancy in a man, or that his minde may be so great, except he presse forth and tell thee,

CHAP. VI.

TO the end thou mayest know (saith hee) that a mortall man may rayse himselfe aboue all the accidents of this life, What pro [...]it [...] wee may reape by Stilpons con­stancy & exam­ple. The descr [...]ption of a ve [...]tuous man. may regard with an assured eye the paines, losses, wounds and stroakes, and the hur­liburly of infinite calamities that enuiron him, that hee may en­dure aduersity, con [...]ent himselfe moderately in prosperity, with­out relying on this, or grudging himselfe on that, but remayning alwayes like himselfe in good and euill fortune, not to esteeme any thing his except it bee himself, or in regard of that part of himselfe which maketh him vertuous: I am ready to proue this vnto thee, and to show thee that vnder this ouerturner of [Page 661] so many Cities, the walles are beaten downe by the violence of his Rammes, the high Towers fall to the ground by the meanes of his Mines, and if hee ray­seth his platformes as high as the tallest towers, yet notwithstanding he cannot finde out any engines that may shake a heart that is well assured. I haue crept out from vnder the ruines of mine owne house, I haue past thorow fire, flame and sword, wherewith I was enuironed on euery side, I know not whether my daughters are more courteously vsed then the rest of the City, I am old, and alone, The misery of those that seeke content in cor­ruptible thinges. seeing nothing but acts of hostility; on what side so euer I turne my selfe, yet I maintaine that all my goods remaine in security, I auerre, that I haue all that whatsoeuer was mine before. Thou must not thinke Demetrius, that I am ouercome, or thou art victorious. Thy fortune hath ouercome mine: I know not what is become of these my goods which are subiect to losse, and change their master. As touching my true goods, they are and shall be mine, and with me. The rich haue lost their riches, the voluptuous their liues and minions which they had entertained with the hazard of their ho [...]our, the ambition [...] nei­ther haunt the pallace nor the market-place as before, nor those re­treats wherein they made shew of their vanities, the vsurers haue lost their bonds and bookes of account, wherein auarice made drunke with the loue of her selfe, imagineth commodities of all sorts. For mine own part I haue all my goods in such sort, as no man hath either touched or spoyled them in any sort: Speake vnto those that weepe, that lament, who to saue their money, present their disarmed bosomes to naked weapons, that flie with a heauy burthen vp­on their backes before the enemy. Resolue thy selfe therefore Serenus, that this perfect man, full of vertues both diuine and humane, looseth nothing: his goods are enuironed with solide and impregnable ramparts, whereunto thou wouldest in some sort compare the walles of Babylon, vpon which Alexander mounted, nor the fortresses of Carthage or Numantium, enforced by one onely hand, nor the Capitoll or any place whatsoeuer, how strong and defenced so euer it may be. The enemies either haue or might set foot therein: but the for­tresses that defence the Wise man, cannot be surprised, neither feare they fire, they cannot be entred or scaled, or vndermi [...]ed, they are impregnable like the nature of the gods.

CHAP. VII.

SAy not therefore as thou art accustomed to doe, that this our Wiseman is found in no place, An excuse of that which he hath proposed of a wise mans ver­tue. we paint not vaine glory in a mans vnderstanding, neither conceiue wee a Colossus of counterfeit ver­tue, but such as wee haue confirmed and approued: wee both haue and will present thee: happily such a one is rarely found, no not in many ages; for these things that are great and exceede custome and vulgar measure, are seldome engendred and brought to effect: but I belieue that Cato, for whose cause wee entred into this dispu [...]e, exceedeth by farre the Wiseman which is now in question. The [...]ourth pri­uiledge, the ver­tuous cannot be iniured by the vicious, but ver­tue is more po [...] ­erfull then vice, and easily sub­dueth the same. To returne to my purpose, that which offendeth ought to haue more force then that which is offended. But wicked­nesse hath not more force then vertue, whereupon it followeth that a Wiseman cannot be offended, good men cannot be iniured but by euill men, peace and friendship is entertained by good men: Wicked men hurt vertuous men as much as they doe one another, if no man can bee harmed, except hee bee more weake [Page 662] then hee that harmeth him, and the euill men bee more weake then the good, and the good cannot bee offended, but by those that resemble them not, the wise man cannot be offended. For I am not now to remember these, that no man is good but a wiseman. But (saist thou) Socrates was condemned vniustly, & receiued iniurie. In this place wee ought to obserue, that it may so fall out, that some man may outrage mee, and yet I shall not be iniured; as if a thiefe had stolne something out of my grange in the Country, and locked it vp in my house: he hath robbed mee, but I haue lost nothing [...] A man may bee guilty although he hath committed no offence; if he liue with his owne wife, imagi­ning that hee lay with an other mans, hee shall bee an adulterer, although his wife shall not bee an adulteresse. Some one hath giuen me poyso [...], but hauing intermixed it with my meate, it lost his force; in giuing me this hee is guilty, although no euill ensue thereupon. He ceaseth not to bee a murtherer [...] who hath thrust his sword at me, although I haue put by the blow by the benefite of my cloake. All wickednesses are accomplished in regard of the offence be­fore the mischiefe bee acted. There ar [...] certaine things of that condition, and so vnited, that the one cannot be without the other: that which I say, I will endeauour to lay open; I can moue my feet, and yet runne not, I cannot runne except I moue my feet: although I am in the water, I can chose whether I will swimme, and if I swim I cannot chuse but bee in the water: so is it in this case that is in question, if I haue been iniured, it must needs bee that the iniury hath beene done: but although the iniury hath beene done, it followeth not conse­quently that I haue receiued it: for many things may fall out that may pre­uent the iniury, euen as the hand that is lifted vp to strike, may bee preuented by some accidents: and arrowes that are shot, may bee auoided in some sort, so may some things repulse and stay all iniuries whatsoeuer, in such sort as they shall neither be done nor receiued.

CHAP. VIII.

The fi [...]th, since a Wise man wā ­teth nothing, hee can receiue [...] iniury [...] for his felicity is com­pleate, a mere Stoicall Para­dox [...]; [...]he Chri­st [...]an expected a greater comple­ment. FVrthermore, Iustice cannot endure any iniustice, for contrary things cannot bee vnited together: but an iniury cannot be done but vniustly. It followeth therefore, that a man cannot doe in­iury to a wise man; neither oughtest thou to wonder that no man can doe him iniury, since there is not any man that can bring him any profite: for a wise man wanteth nothing which he can receiue in way of gift, and an euill man can bestow, nothing on a wise man: for hee must haue it before he giue it; but hee hath nothing which a wiseman would bee glad hee should bestow vpon him. Therefore no man can eyther hurt or profite a wise man. As the immortall gods neither desire to bee aided, neither can be hurt; no more also can a wise man, who is neighbor to the Gods, and like vnto God, exept in this that hee is subiect to death. Tending and walking towards those things that are high, gouerned, assured, permanent, peaceable, impregnable, gracious, and created for the good of all men; assisting himselfe and others, hee will couet no base thing [...] he bewaileth nothing because that in all accidents hee dependeth on reason, and marcheth with a diuine thought. Hee cannot receiue iniury by any meanes I say, not onely in that respect, that hee is a man no not from fortune her selfe, which as often as shee encountreth with vertue, neuer retireth but to her disaduantage; if wee entertaine that great euill with a wil­ling [Page 663] and constant heart, in respect whereof the most rigorous laws of the world can doe nothing, and the most cruell tyrants can doe nothing, wherein fortune seeth all her Empiry consumed. In briefe, if wee know that death is not an euill thing, lesse cruell shall wee deeme an iniurie to bee, more couragiously shall we endure all other euils, such as are lesse displeasures, ignominies, banishments, the death of our parents and quarrels; for although all these incommodities inuirona wise man, yer stifle they him not, nay more, hee grieueth not at any of their assaults. And if hee patiently endure the iniuries of Fortune, how farre more easily suffereth hee these of the rich and mighty sort, who are but the in­struments of fortune.

CHAP. IX.

HE therefore endureth all these misfortunes as hee would abide the rigor of the winter, All iniuries to a wise man are but as colde and heate, rain [...] and sickenesse. raines, heates, and other accidents, neither iudgeth hee of any man so well, that hee imagineth that he did any thing by counsell which is only incident to a wise man. The rest doe nothing with prudence. All their actions consist in fraudes, ambushes, and disordered motions, which the Wiseman ranketh a­mongst casuall things. But all that which is casuall assaileth and enuironeth vs externally. Remember thy selfe likewise, that these things, by means where­of men endeuour to hurt vs, produce many occasions of offences. As if a man should wrongfully accuse vs, or suborne some witnesse against vs, or if they should disgrace vs in the presence of great men, or attempt such other accu­stomed practises amongst men that haue either leasure or credite. It is likewise an other ordinary iniury, if a man take that profit which an other man thought to make, The seuenth, [...] brideling in his pas [...]ions, iudgeth of euill other­waies then pas­sionate men doe; and conuerteth all to good. out of his hands, or a reward long deserued, or an inheritance recoue­red with much trauell, or the credite of a house wherein hee had done faithfull office [...]. The wiseman neither liueth in hope nor in feare, but disburtheneth himselfe of these difficulties. Furthermore, no man is iniured except he be mo­ued, and hee is moued and troubled, as soone as he is touched: but an vpright man is neuer vexed, hee brideleth in his extrauagant discourses, he enioyeth a deepe and peaceable repose, and although an iniury touch him, and moue, and hinder him, yet is hee not attainted with choller, which groweth from a pre­tended iniury, and the reason why hee is not displeased, is, because hee know­eth that a man cannot wrong him. Thence proceedeth it, that hee walketh al­wayes with an vpright countenance, a merry cheare, possessed with a continu­all ioy, which in such sort strengthneth it selfe, that in stead of being abashed at those iniuries which men may offer him, and for those disa [...]ters that may happen in life, hee maketh vse of these difficulties, as meanes to know & make proofe of his vertue. Let vs make profite I beseech you of this discourse, and let vs listen attentiuely both with heart and eare, how a Wise man behaueth himselfe when he is outraged, although that for all this wee are not so well ad­uised, as to cut off any thing of our wantonnesse, of our violent couetousnesse, nor of our pride and arrogancy. The Wiseman seeketh this liberty without medling with your vices, neither is it a question here, whether it bee lawfull for you or no to doe iniury; but how a Wiseman beareth all iniury, and conti­nueth firme, patient, and confident in courage. In this sort haue diuers borne away the palme in combates and exercises, when by their inuincible patience [Page 664] they had wearied the hands of those that stroake at them. Suppose our Wise-man to be one of those men, who by long and constant exercise haue recoue­red the force to endure and weary the force and assaults of their enemies.

CHAP. X.

SInce we haue discoursed vpon the first part, now let vs descend vn­to the second; The eighth, that all complaints of those that suppose them­selues iniured, are so vild and vnworthy, that it were a disgrace for a Wiseman to thinke that he should be mo­ued at such things. in which, by some perticular reasons, and by diuers common, wee will confute that opinion men haue of contempt and contumely. Contumelie is an iniury so small, as no man either complaineth or reuengeth himselfe, therfore neither do the lawes themselues prefixe any penalty thereunto. This passion is mooued by a cer­taine basenes of the hart that is displeased, for some either dishonorable deed or word. As for example. This Lord hath not giuē me audience to day, yet hath admitted an other. He hath carelesly turned his head aside when I spake vnto him, or hath mocked me before all men: In stead of placing me at the vpper end of the table, he hath set me below. What shall I call these complaints (or such like) but vomitings of a sicke soule whereunto they are subiect, who are ouer delicate, and such as liue too much at their ease; for I haue no leisure to note these in particulars, when as worse doe follow. Our minds weakned and made effeminate by too much repose, and become insolent for want of knowing what true iniurie is, are mooued at such things which (for the most part) proceede from this, because hee that either sayth or doth them vnderstandeth not him­selfe. By meanes whereof, the other that is mooued and passionate, pretending to bee iniured, sheweth himselfe to be a man both heartlesse and witlesse. For vndoubtedly hee supposeth himselfe to bee contemned, and this misprision of his proceedeth from nought else but his base, vilde, and abiect courage. But a wise man is contemned by no man, he knoweth his owne greatnesse, hee is re­solued that no man (except himselfe) can attempt any thing to his aduantage or disaduantage. And as touching all these miseries (or rather distractions of the mind) so farre is hee from not ouercomming them, that he feeleth them not. There are other crosses likewise, although they ouerthrow him not, as paines and weaknesse of body, losse of friends, and children, ruine of Countries afflic­ted by warre. I deny not but a wise man hath some sence of these euils, for wee say not that he is hard and stupide, like a flint or as a barre of Iron. There is no vertue that hath not a sence of that which she suffereth.

The ninth. Al­though he feele the stroakes he hath a remedy at hand, whence followeth his cure which deser­ueth not this name; conside­ring that the hurt is rather an imagination then any other thing, if we con­sider those who pretend to doe thee wrong. CHAP. XI.

WHat is it then? I confesse that a wiseman receiueth some stroks, but he rebateth them, he healeth them, and maketh them without effect: as for these that are lesse hee feeleth them not, neither v­seth he his accustomed vertue, constancy & patience, in respect of these, but either he marketh them not, or thinketh them worthy of derision. Besides, wheras the greater part of contumelies are offered by proud and insolent men, and such as know not how to carry their good fortune: the wise man hath a meanes to despise that swolne affection, which is the constancy and greatnes of his mind, which is the greatest of all vertues, the which passeth [Page 665] swiftly aboue all these vanities, as vaine appearances of dreame [...] and nightly vi­sions, which haue nothing solide or true in them. He thinketh likewise that all other men are so base, that they haue not sufficient courage to contemne that which is so highly raised aboue them. Contumely is so called of contempt, be­cause he that outrageth another doth it but in contempt. But no man contem­neth his better or him that is more excellent then himselfe, although hee say, or doe some thing which contemners are accustomed to do. For young chil­dren, strike their parents on the face, and an infant hath towsed and torne his mothers lockes, and spit vpon her, and discouered such things in the sight of the seruants which should haue been hidden, and hath not abstained from dis­honest and disorderly speeches, and yet none of these doe wee call contume­lies. And why? because they doe it not in contempt. The same is the cause why wee beare with the vrbanity of our slaues, and take delight to heare them iest at their masters, and after they haue gibed at them first, they haue liberty to taunt others that are at the table, the more contemptible and ridiculous a man is, the more liberty hath hee of his tongne. There are some men that buy wanton children, and animate them in impudency, and giue them masters to teach them to scoffe and bite at euery man, as if they had but recorded their lesson, neither call wee these contumelies but merry iests.

CHAP. XII.

BVt what folly is it now to bee delighted, The tenth, He esteemeth the iniuries that are offered to him by the vicious a [...] [...]lightly as he would the words of children, which know not what they say. A comparison betwixt yong & olde fooles of the world. and straight again offen­ded with the same things? and to call that a reproch which is spo­ken by a friend; and a better iest that is vttered by a seruant? The same mind that wee haue towards children, the same hath a wise-man towards all men, who after their youth are become childish­ly old. Can a man terme those old men otherwayes then infants, whose minds are depraued, and errors encreased, and who differ in nothing from children, but in the bulke of their bodies, and outward formes, but are no lesse incon­stant and vncertaine, and desirous of pleasure, without choice, fearful and quiet, not in mind, but for feare? neither therefore will any man say, that there is a diffetence betwixt them and children, because the one is couetous of checke­stones, nuts and small money, the other, of gold, siluer and Cities. Children make Princes and Iudges, amongst themselues, counterfeit Senators, and with staues and peeces of wood represent ridiculously the ensignes and markes of iu­stice. These play the like sports in good earnest in the field of Mars in the Market place, and in the Senate. Children sitting by the riuers side, make them houses of sand. These a [...] if busied about som great mater, are occupied in stones, in walles, and building houses, and haue made those things dangerous which were inuented for the conseruation of our bodies. So then both the young and olde are infants, but the one are more aduanced in beastlinesse, and more fooles then the other. And therefore vpon good ground the wise man taketh plea­sure and pastime in the outrages of th [...]se great Infants, and somtimes he cha­sticeth them as children, not because he hath receiued iniury, but because they haue done it, Why a wise man sometimes cha­sticeth those that offend in deedes or wordes. and to the end they should doe it no more, for so are wild beastes tamed by strokes, neither are wee angrie with them, because they cast their ri­der, but we stroke them and che [...]ke them with the bit, to the end that by ma­naging them wee may make them tame. Know therefore that this is answ [...]red [Page 666] which was opposed against vs, why a Wise man if hee hath neither receiued iniury or contumelie punisheth those that did the same: for he reuengeth not himselfe, but punisheth them.

CHAP. XIII.

BVt why is it that thou thinkest not that the same infirmity of of mind attendeth a Wiseman, In this place hee answereth some questious, and the first is why the Wiseman suffereth the insolency both of young and old. when thou mayest obserue the same in others, though not vpon the same cause: for what phy­sition is angry with a lunatike person, who will interprete a sick mans reproches to the worst, that is vexed with a feuer, and is forbidden to drinke colde water? The same affection hath a Wiseman to­wards all men, as the Physition hath towards his sicke Patients, who disdaineth not to handle their priuities, if they haue neede of remedy, nor to see their v­rines and excrements, nor to heare the outrages which feare maketh them to vtter. The wise man knoweth that all these which iet in their gownes, or are ap [...]arrelled in purple, who, although they are well coloured and faire, are sicke and diseased: whom in no other sort hee looketh vpon but as intemperate sicke men. Therefore is hee not angry with them, if during their sicknesse they haue beene so bold as to speake iniuriously against him who would heale them; and as hee setteth light by all their honours, so tormenteth he himselfe as little with their despight and insolencies. Euen as he taketh little pleasure, if a begger do him honour, no more will hee iudge it a contumelie, if the basest companion returne him not the like when hee hath saluted him; so will hee neither waxe prouder, if many rich men doe him honour; for hee knoweth that they differ nothing from beggers, nay that they are more wretched then the other, for the one neede little, the other much. And againe, the wiseman will not bee moued, if saluting the King of Medes, or Attalus of Asia, hee passe by him without speaking, and with a disdainefull countenance, for hee knoweth well that hee hath as little cause to enuy such a Princes state, as the condition of him that in a great famine, hath the charge to keepe and ouersee the sicke and mad men. Shall I bee angry if one of those who negociate in the market place neere to the Temple of Castor, or that make it their traffique to buy slaues, and who haue their shoppes filled with a troupe of base slaues, saluteth mee not by my name, not as I thinke, for what goodnesse is there in him, vnder whom there are none but euill men. Therefore as he will neglect this mans humanity, or in­humanity; so will hee doe a Kings. Thou hast vnder thy gouernements, both Parthians, Medes and Bactrians, but such as thou containest by feare; neither darest thou lay by thy bowe, by reason of them who do nothing in regarde of thee, whom thou must handle as slaues, but such as desire likewise to bee rid of thee, and seeke for a new Lord. So then a wise man is not offended at any mans iniurie, and although that one is not of the same reckoning as others, yet hee esteemeth them alike, because they are no lesse fooles the one as the other: now if but once hee embase himselfe, so farre as either hee bee moued with in­iury or contumely, hee can neuer be secure, but security is the proper good of a wise man; neither will hee endure that by reuenging the contumelie that is offered him, he honour him that did the same: for it must needes be, that hee whosoeuer is displeased for an iniurie that is done him, will likewise be glad to be honoured at his hands.

CHAP. XIIII.

THere are some men that are possessed with so great madnesse, The seco [...]d, whence it com­meth that hee confesseth rea­dily the faults both of the one and the other. that they thinke that a woman can offer them outrage, what matters it how rich shee be, how many vassals shee haue to car­ry her letters; what though her eares are laden with pendants, and her chaines be large and spacious; yet all of them alike are impudent creatures, and except shee bee endowed with much science and lear­ning, shee will bee cruell and incontinent in her desires. There are some are much vexed, because they haue beene repressed by some Ladies Groome, that helpes to make her ready, and call it contumely, if a Porter be ou [...]r currish, at the pride of the Clerke of Checke, and the loftinesse of a groome of the Chamber. O how much are wee to laugh at these toyes? with how great pleasure is the mind to bee filled, when a man beholdeth his owne quiet amidst the tumult of other mens errors? what therfore? shall not a wise man be bold to approch the gate where there is a crabbed & froward Porter? if any af­faires of importance shall command him, he shall attempt and appease rhe Por­ter whatsoeuer hee bee, in giuing him som present, as we are wont to giue bread or meat to a dog that barketh; in briefe, hee will not disdaine to disburse some thing to enter, remembring himselfe that there are certaine bridges which a man cannot passe ouer without paying towle; and therefore hee giueth some money to this Towle-man or that Porter, for hee knoweth how to buy that which is to sell, contrariwise that man hath a base mind that boasteth that hee hath spoken freely to a Groome of the Chamber, that hee hath broken his staffe, that hee hath gotten accesse to his Master, and caused the Varlet to bee beaten. He that contendeth maketh himselfe an aduerse party, and vaunting that hee hath ouercome, maketh himselfe equall: but what shall a wise man do if hee bee buffeted? that which Cato did at such time as an enemy of his gaue him a boxe on the eare, he entred not into choller, neyther reuenged he that insolencie. True it is that hee pardoned not the iniury, but hee denied that hee had receiued it: hee shewed himselfe more couragious in protesting that hee was not moued, then if he had pardoned him that strucke him. Wee will stay no longer on this point: for who knoweth not that in matter of these thinges which a man supposeth either good or euill, a Wise mans opinion is different from all other men, hee respecteth not what they repute eyther villanous or mi­serable, he followeth not the common tract, but as the starres are retrograde in their courses, so carries hee himselfe in a fashion which is contrary to all others.

CHAP. XV.

CEase therefore to demand whether a wise man shall bee outra­ged, if hee be strucken, The fourth, what is the rea­son why a wise man is so pati­ent, if his eye be pulled out, if base fellowes exclaime against him in the open street; if at a Princes banquet he be placed at the lower end, and set to eate amongst the grooms, if hee be constrained to endure all the indignities and despightes that may be done to a man of honour. These insolencies eyther great or little, shall appeare vnto him of one nature: if the smaller touch him not, no more [Page 668] shall the greater, if a little moue him not, a great deale shall not stirre him. But you measure a great mind according to the extent of your owne weakenesse, and considering onely how farre your patience doth extend; you thinke you doe very much, if you allow a wiseman some further terme and limit of pati­ence then you allow your owne. But his wisdome hath placed him in other confines of the world, that haue nothing common with you. Therefore if crosses, incommodities, and aduersities, which both the eye and eare abhorre, present themselues on euery side, and in great number: he shall not be dismaied therat, aud as he crosseth euery one of them, so shall he make head against all together: hee deceiueth himselfe, that a Wise man may support one thing and not another, & who will cloase his magnanimity in certaine bounds, except we manacle and tie fortunes feet and hands, shee will treade vs vnder foote; ney­ther thinke thou that this is onely a Stoicall austeritie; for the Epicure whom you haue made choise of for a patterne of your idlenesse, and whom you sup­pose to be the Master of delights, idlenesse, and meere pastime, saith that fortune seldom times visiteth a Wise man. How neerly vttered he a manly speech; Wilt thou speake more brauely, and wholly driue away fortune? Consider that a Wisemans house is narrow, without pompe, without noice, without decking without Porters who giue or refuse entry to goers out or in; but although the gate bee not kept by any man, yet fortune setteth no foot therein; knowing well that shee shall not be entertained there where shee hath no credite at all, but if the Epicure himselfe who hath giuen his body all the pleasures that he can imagine, disgesteth iniuries: is there any occasion to thinke it incredible, extraordinary, and aboue nature, which the Stoickes pretend. The Epicure saith, that a Wise man ought to endure iniuries, but we say that a Wise man cannot be iniured.

CHAP. XVI.

To manifest that which is past, [...]hee sheweth what he in [...]ndeth by the word iniury. NEither hast thou cause to conclude that this repugneth against Nature. We doe not deny but that it is an incommodious thing to be beaten, to bee enforced and to be maimed in some mem­ber; but we deny that these are iniurie [...]. We take not from them the sense of paine, but the name of iniury which cannot be ad­mitted without empeachment of vertues reputation. Let vs consider which of these two opinions are to be admitted. Both of them concent in the contempt of iniurie. Askest thou me wherein they differ? Such there is as between two stout sword players whereof the one dissembleth his wound and standeth on his guard; the other, looking backe at the people that cry out maketh shewe that it is nothing, and will not endure to haue them parted. You must not ther­fore thinke that the difference is ouer great. But there is an other point that properly concerneth vs. These two examples teach vs to contemne iniuries & outrages, the which I cal shadows & suspitions of iniurie to contemn which we ought not, to seeke out a wise man, we need but a wel aduised man that may speake thus vnto himselfe; whether doe those thinges befall mee deserued­ly or vndeseruedly; if deseruedly, it is no contumely, it is but a correcti­on; if vndeseruedly, How a man ought to inter­pret [...] those thing [...] that are spoken by an other. let him bee ashamed, that deales vniustly; and what is that which is called contumelie? Hee iesteth at me, because I shake my head, because I haue weake eyes, because I haue little legges, and am of a low sta­ture. [Page 669] Is this an outrage, if a man tell me tha [...] which euery man seeth? wee laugh at any thing that is spoken in the presence of one; wee are angry, if it bee before many; and wee leaue not then men liberty to speake that which we our selues will say our selues: wee are d [...]lighted with temporate iests, and are displeased at those that are immoderate.

CHAP. XVII.

CHrysippus saith, How vainely we flie [...]rom the precepts o [...] the wise [...] and are besotted on trifles, and [...]aine iniuries in our owne imagina­tions. that a certaine man was much displeased because an other man called him sheepes-head. Wee saw Fidus Cornelius Na [...]oes sonne in law stand weeping in the Senate house, because Corbul [...] had called him pilde Austrich. Against other reproches wounding both his manners and life, he carried alwayes a [...]etl [...]d countenance; but vpon this so impertinent a iest, hee could not abstain from teare [...]; so great is the infirmity of our minds when reason is absent: for exam­ple, wee are offended, if any man counterfeit our speech, our gate, or any im­perfection either in our body, or in our tongue: as if they should waxe more notorious by an other mans imitation, then our owne action. There are some that cannot endure to bee called olde, gray head, or other such names, where­unto many are desirous to attaine. Othersome haue beene displeased, if they haue beene called poore; but hee truely calleth himselfe poore that concealeth his pouerty. The true meanes to cut off all those scoffers and i [...]sters is, if thou thy selfe preuent them, and obiect against thy selfe, all that which they coulde speake against thee. Whosoeuer laugheth at himselfe, first cutteth off other mens ocations to laugh at him. It is said that Vatinius who was a man borne to be laughed at, and hated was of himselfe a pleasant and talkatiue Companion. This man iested much at his owne gouty feet, and his swolne chaps; so escaped he the derision of his enemies, and especially the bitter iests of Cicero, who were in number farre more then the sickenesses that had seized him: if Vatinius a shamelesse fellow could doe this, by meanes of his bitter speeches, who had learned impudence by his continuall iesting, why cannot he doe it, who by ho­nest occupations of the mind, and exercises of wisdome, hath attained to ver­tue? Adde hereunto, that it is a kinde of pleasure to pull from an outragious man the pleasures which hee taketh in speaking or doing euill. These men are accustomed to say; Wretch that I am, I thinke hee vnderstood not? so is the fruite of contumelie in the sence and indignation of him that suffereth. Moreouer, he will one day bee met withall, and some one will light vpon him that shal re­uenge thine iniury.

CHAP. XVIII.

AMongst all other vices, The end of in­considerate moc­kers, they see a mote in their neighbour [...] eye [...] but will not spie a beame in their owne. wherewith Caius Caligula was replenished, it is reported of him that he was a great mocker, who dayly had a fling at other mens faults, where himselfe was a bountifull sub­iect of laughter: For his countenance was pale and de [...]ormed, betokening his melancholy fury, his eyes sunke and buried vn­der his old and beetle browes, his head bare in diuers places, a tuft of curlde and thicke haire about his necke, his legges small, his feet plat and vnmeasu­rably [Page 670] broad: but I should neuer make an end, if I should specifie euery parti­cular, wherein he reproached his fathers and grandfathers, and in generall all sorts of men. I will onely relate those which were the cause of his destruction. Amongst his especiall friends, was Valerius Asiaticus, a man of a fierce mind, who could scarsly disgest those contumelies that were offered to a stranger. To this man did hee obiect at a banquet, and afterwards with a loude voyce in an o­pen assembly, the motions and fashions of his wife, at such time as he accom­panied and lay with her. Good gods that the husband should heare this, and the Prince should know it, and that liberty of speech was so vnbrideled, that he should discouer, (I say not to one that had been Consull, I say not to his friend, but) to her own husband the adulteries of his wife, and how his lusts were sa­tisfied. Chaereas the Tribune of his Souldiers had no ready speech, See Suetonius and Liuie; in the life of Cali­gula. and had [...]t thou not knowne him by his deedes, thou wouldst haue suspected him to bee an effeminate fellow. To this man when he came to fetch the watch word at Caius hands, he sometimes gaue him the name of Venus, sometimes of Priapus, reproaching in one or other sort this warlike man, who made profession of armes, that hee was effeminate, and that it was he to whom the name apper­tained to be painted, socked and decked with bracelets: he therefore enforced him to vse his weapon, lest he should bee often enforced to fetch his Watch­word from him: hee was the first amongst the conspirators that lifted vp his hand; hee it was that cut his necke halfe off at one stroke; and afterwardes hee receiued diuers other stabs and stroakes at their hands, who reuenged their publike or priuate iniuries: but he whom Caligula least suspected, was the first that shewed himselfe a man, and yet the same Caius who tooke all thinge [...] for iniuries and outrages, could himselfe endure nothing, though here most desi­rous to offer all: he was angrie with Herenius Macro, because hee had saluted him by the name of Caius; and hee caused a Centurion of the first Legion to be seuerely punished, because hee named him Caligula; yet was hee vsually so cal­led, because hee was borne in the Campe, and was wont to bee called the in­fant of the Legions: in briefe, the Souldiers knew him not by any name so well, as by that: notwithstanding in the end hee tooke this word for a reproch and outrage: Imply that the true reuenge belonge [...]h to God, and pati­ence by his ex­ample to a wise man. let this therfore be for our comfort, that although our frailety o­mitteth reuenge, yet will there bee some one who will reuenge vs on an auda­cious, proud and iniurious enemy; which vices are neuer consumated in one man, or in one contumelie: Let vs consider their examples, whose patience we prayse, as that of Socrates, who tooke in good part the taunts and reproofes which the Poets and Players published against him, and laught no lesse then when his wife Zantippe powred foule water on his head: but Iphicr [...]tes being reproued because his mother was a Barbarian, and a Thracian, answered, that the mother of the gods was borne on the mount of Ida.

CHAP. XIX.

To auoide strife, is a remedy a­gainst trouble, and there is no better wisdome then to bee pre­pared and co [...] ­stant against all incumbrance [...]. WEe are not to f [...]ll to brawles or debates hereupon, let vs returne our selues farre from these, and neglect those errors which the imprudenter sort commit: for none but imprudent men will commit the same: both honours and publike iniuries are to be esteemed alike, neither let vs grieue at the one, or reioyce at the other: otherwise wee shall omit many necessary things through the apprehen­sion [Page 671] or distast of contumelies; neither shall wee execute eyther publike or pri­uate offices, no not these that are most necessary, whilest effeminate eare trou­bleth vs, for feare wee should heare something against our minds, and some­times being displeased with mighty men by our int [...]mperate liberty, we should discouer this affection: but it is no liberty to suffer nothing; wee are deceiued: this is liberty, when we oppose a resolute mind against iniuries; when a man ge [...]teth a habitude that breadeth all pleasure, estranging from himselfe those things which are without vs, for feare, lest being afraid of the laughters and disgraces of the world, we drowne not our life in a continuall disquiet: for what man is he that cannot iniurie an other, if euery man may: but a Wiseman & he that is a follower of wisdome will vse an other remedy: for to those that are imperfect, and who as yet conforme themselues to the iudgement of the peo­ple, wee ought to propose that they are to liue amongst iniuries and outrages: All things are light vnto those that exspect them: the more greater a man is, the more generous, renowned and rich, the more ought he to shew himselfe con­fident and couragious, not forgetting this, that the brauest Souldiers are set in the formost rankes; let him endure opprobrious words, ignominies and o­ther disgraces as the cries of his enemies, as arrowes shot from a farre, and stones that rattle about the Helmet, without wounding; and let him su­staine iniuries, neither deiected nor moued from this place, as strokes inflicted on his armor, or infixed in his breast: although thou be oppressed, and the enemy presse thee neerely. It is a base thing to giue place, maintaine that place which nature hath assigned thee: Askest thou me what this place is? that of a mans. The Wiseman hath an expedient contrary thereunto: for you are in the con­flict, he hath gotten the victory: resist not your owne good, and till such time as you haue attained the truth, nourish this hope in your hearts; assure your selues boldly of some better thing, presse forward to attaine it with hope and honest desire; it is for the profite and aduan­tage of the whole world, that there is some one inuincible, that there is some one, ouer whom fortune hath no power.

The End of the Booke of the Constancy of a wise man.

OF THE SHORT­NES OF LIFE, WRITTEN BY LVCIVS ANNAEVS SENECA TO PAVLINVS.

The Argument of IVSTVS LIPSIVS.

THe time wherein this Booke was written is vncertaine (except it were af­ter CAIVS gouernment;) but for the goodnesse thereof it is not to bee doubted. O subiect of an excellent and profitable Argument. The Argument is, that our Life is not short, but that wee make it short, eyther by not vsing it, or by abusing it, or vainely vsing it: this dedu­ceth hee thus: First, wee are bond [...]laues to vices, wherein wee consume and loose our yeares: Secondly, wee are vnprofitably busied in triuiall matters, and such as wee call offi­ces: Thirdly, wee sinne eyther in opinion or presumption, and this maketh that life short which wee thinke to bee long; we despise things present, we dispose the future, as though wee had them in great and assured abundance: and for the most part wee are intang­led with vaine or forraine pleasures, and loose our liues as it were in sport: such as this vntill the tenth Chapter; thence diuideth he time into three parts, into that which is past, into the present, and into the future, and teacheth vs how euilly and foolishly wee behaue our selues in euery one of them: hee inueigheth against fruitlesse occupations, a­gainst delights, against excesse, against idle retirements, and superfluous study of know­ledge. Hence he discourseth pertinently; and would to God hee might eyther allure or change the learning louers of this time. That onely that time is well spent, which is im­ployed in the study of wisdome, whereby our life is truely lengthned: the common sort thinke otherwayes, for they estimate the same by fortune, and according to her smiles, so thinke they that our life is shortned or lengthned: In prosperity they wish for death, in aduersity they feare it. In the end he exhorteth PAVLINVS, and what he saith to him, [Page 673] let euery man apply to himselfe, and grow maturely wise, and retire himselfe into the hauen of life, which is an honest repose. This vow I, thus will I endeuour.

CHAP. I.

THe greater part of men (good friend Paulinus) complaineth of the hard dealing of nature with vs, who hath brought vs forth to liue so short a while, and yet of the time allotted vs, that the moments should so sodainly and swiftly runne a­way, as wee see they doe: insomuch as besides some few amongst vs, the rest are then most com­monly bereft of life, when indeed they beginne but newly euen then to liue; nor doth the popu­lous or foolish people onely lament this euill (so generall as it is counted) but euen many famous men haue likewise thought and lamented in like manner this our misfortune; whence springeth that especiall complaint of the greatest amongst Physitians, that our life is short, and their art very long: where hence also Aristotle takes occasion to quarrell; (although it scarce beseeme so wise a man as hee so to doe) with dame Nature, who (saith he) hath allotted some beasts, some fiue, some ten hundred yeeres, and man who is created to so many weighty purpo­ses, hath a terme of life prefixed him so much shorter as wee see: whereas in­deed we haue no scantnesse or scarsity of life, but wee rather loose much of our life; for long enough and large enough is life allowed vs, were it spent in grea­test matters, or were it all spent in good matters; but when wee haue by riot and negligence once lost it, when it is once spent and gone, and we cannot shew any good wee spent it in, at length need driuing vs to make an end thereof; wee see that now it is spent, which wee did not feele to spend, before in deed it was very well nigh wholy spent: so that wee had not giuen vs so short a life, as wee will make it, but such we made it as it is; nor had we giuen vs so little life, but so prodigall and lauish wee are. Euen as a Princes ample Patrimony, if it come in Hucksters hands, goeth away in a moment, which if it were the hundreth parte thereof, and were well husbanded, would yet by good vsage, encrease rather then proue but scarce, euen so our age if it bee well employed, will proue very faire and long enough.

CHAP. II.

WHy then complaine wee of nature, shee hath dealt well with vs, and thy life, if thou know how in good thinges well to spend it, shall appeare long enough. One is wholly possessed with [...]sa­tiable auarice, another is as busie as a Bee in labours, euery [...] n [...]lesse and superfluous: a third drinkes out his dayes, a fourth is idle, a fifth liues gaping after preferments, which yet are in the will of ano­ther to bestow; a sixth, is led euen round about the world, by a desire to buy and sell, with hope to gaine; and some there are that continually haue their minds on warrefarre, neuer minding either the perils of other men, or regar­ding [Page 674] their owne, as some there are also that wilfully enthrall themselues to such Potentates, as scarsly euer giue them any thanks for so doing, but delight yet in their folly, many likewise spend their dayes in affecting others fortune, & detesting of their owne; and diuers men doe nothing but delight them­selues with changeable, vnconstant, neuer pleasing fantasies, still attempting new deuices, as also some like nothing, wherein to spend their time, but con­suming in their idlenesse, doe nothing but still accuse their fate and fortune: so that true I find the best saying which the Poet euer writ by him as an O­racle: A little part of our life it is we liue; for indeed the whole course of mans age, is not life but time rather, in which almost howerly new vices so assaile vs, as wee neither can recouer our selues, nor so much as lift our eyes to see what is decent and truth in things wee thinke of, but if once wee beginne to take footing, new desires anew assaile vs, and keepe vs downe: no, they can­not so much as recall themselues to mind, but if happily they bee quiet, yet as in the sea after a storm is fully passed, yet remaineth there a wallowing, and con­tinuall rowling, so beate they still vp and downe, nor haue they perfect rest from their desires. And here perhaps yee thinke I speake of such men onely, whose fancies all men gaze at, and talke of too, but looke on them, whose felicity all men most maruell at, and you shall see, that euen these men are cloyed with their good fortune: of which sort many account wealth a burthen, many ha­uing also a goodly gift of eloquence and vtterance, spend themselues in delight to heare themselues speake: and many weare away, euen surfetting with selfe pleasing delights and pleasures: and how many I pray you know you that haue scarce any time almost to breath for continuall sutors to them? goe but ouer them all from the lowest to the highest, hee sues, hee helpes, hee is in danger, he defendeth him, and another iudgeth him; euery one, to bee short, spendes himselfe vpon others: and enquire of these mens liuing, whose names and per­sons all the world talkes of and knowes, and you shall see them distinguished by these particulars: hee is wholly at the deuotion of such a one, another alto­gether depends of him: and none of them all is his owne man, or intends his owne businesse. And here I finde a fond complaint made by some men, they mislike forsooth the coines of their superiours, who are not oft at leysure, when they would sue or doe their duties to them; and dareth any man complaine of the pride of another, who himselfe is neuer at leasure to bee sued of himselfe? The great man be he neuer so proud, yet sometimes at the length he giues the accesse; hee giues the audience at some time, he cals thee at last, and thou canst vouchsafe to looke into, nor giue hearing to thy selfe.

CHAP. III.

NOr thinke thou any man any whit beholding to thee for these thy curtesies, for in doing them thou didst not meane so much to saue another, as thou wast not willing, or at leasure rather to saue thy selfe: and if all the wits that euer were renowned for a­ny thing would intend this one point; yet can they not all of them sufficiētly wonder at the blindnes of mans mind in this one false ioy folly: Wee suffer not our lands to be vsurped of another, and bee the controuersie about neuer so little a quantity, or circumstance of our possessions, we take vp stones, and betake vs straightwayes to armour, and yet wee suffer o­ther [Page 675] to vsurpe of our life, yea wee put such in possession, as are like to be Lords and Rulers of it: ye see no man willing to part with his money, but with good conditions to another; and yet with how many I pray you doe wee all parte stakes, and make diuidents of our life, euen many times for nothing? euery one is a niggard to part with his Patrimony, and yet most lauish bee wee when we come to losse of time, wherein onely a may honestly shew himselfe a nipcrust. And therefore let vs here a while talke with any one of all these Elders [...] we see you are as olde, as a man almost may bee, you are onwards on a hundred yeers, or rather more then so, doe but call your yeeres to a reckoning, and say in sad­nesse, how much time your creditors, your shee friends, the City mat­ters and other suitors to you haue spent thereof? your suites about wiuing, breaking your head to frame your seruant; your desire to pleasure friends in euery corner of the towne: how much paine haue these things put you to? then adde what sicknesse your selfe haue beene procurer of, as also what time hasty and vnaduised anger hath possest you, euen in things friuolous; yea what time hath past you to no fruit nor purpose, and you shall see you haue not liued so many yeeres as you make reckoning of: call to mind when you were resolute what to doe in any thing, and how many dayes you euer passed as you deter­mined, then what fruit you reaped of dayes so spent? what haue you now to shew as the fruit thereof? nay, how many haue stolne peeces of your life, whilst your selfe did not consider or perceiue the want thereof, how much of it haue false ioyes, needlesse griefes, greedy, couetous, pleasant company mispent I pray you? and then count how little of your owne life is left to your [...]elfe, and you shall finde you die before you are ready to depart the world.

CHAP. IIII.

WHat is then the reason forsooth you liue, as if you had a warrant to liue for euer? you recke not how little time you liue to your selfe? you count not how much time you spend, while you spend as it were of a full and ouer running reckoning; when as happily that same day spent in another mans pleasure, or to his vse, may chance be to your last; you feare all things as men mortall, yet you long for all things as immortall. You shall heare some men say, were I fifty, I would be­take mee to my beades, were I threescore, I would meddle no more with worldly matters? yet they haue at all no warrant of longer life then the pre­sent moment: for who can giue the assurance that thou shalt do, euē iust as thou determinest? shamest thou not to make reckoning how to lead thy life to come, & to point such time for amendment, which almost can serue for nothing? how late is it to beginne to liue then when thou must leaue to liue? or how fond for­getfulnesse of mortality is it to delay amendment to thy fiftieth yeere of age, & to make account that then thou wilt beginne to liue, when few men vse to a­spire to such an age. Yee shall often heare great mighty men giue out speeches in praise of rest, of leasure, and quietnesse, they wisht it, they preferre it before all their wealth; yea they wish they might with safety come downe from that high tipe of their authority, and intend the same; for bee all things neuer in such quiet from abroad, yet fortune falleth euen in it selfe, and decayeth as all other things in this mortality.

CHAP. V.

GReat Augustus whome the Gods did more for then euer else for any man, ceased not to pray for rest and exemption out of com­mon causes; all his speech still came to this end, if he once might come to quietnesse, yea all his labours hee did sawce with this false but pleasant comfort, hee would one day surely liue to him­selfe, and in one Epistle which hee wrote vnto the Senate, (wherein hee prote­sted that his rest and quiet priuate life should doe him more good and credite also, then his life already led in renowne and glory) I finde these words inser­ted. But I know it were more credit for mee so to do, then to say so; howbeit such desire I ha [...]e thereto, as because I cannot in deede performe it, some pleasure yet I thought to reape, by talking onely of so pleasant a matter. So great a thing was rest in his con­ceit, as the same because hee could not indeed attaine vnto; yet in worde hee thought to ioy in it, and he that saw euen all things depend of him, being able indeed to make happy or in [...]ortunate whomsoeuer, or whensoeuer he pleased, tooke great pleasure to remember the day and time, when hee should doe of his owne greatnesse, and become his owne man: hee had tried what sweate and swincke his estate (which all men deemed to be so good and glittering, did cost him to maintaine it: and how much priuy hartburning, and heart aking to it, dayly harboured, being forced to make warre first with the Citizens of Rome, then with his fellow officers, lastly with his kindred, shedding bloud by sea and land in Macedonia, Sicilia, AEgypt, Siria and Asia, coursed almost throughout all Countries, yea and when hee had thus glutted himselfe in a manner with Romane slaughter, hee was forced to turne himselfe against forraine nations: And being likely to quiet some troubles in the Alpes, hauing vanquished other enemies that disturbed this his peaceable and setled Empire, while hee set for­ward to enlarge the same beyond Rhenus, Euphrates and Danubius, at home euen in the City, Murena, Cepio, Lepidus, and the Egn [...]tij [...] prepared armes against him: yea, and hauing sca [...]sly fully escaped these their attempts, his daughter Iulia, and many noble young gentlemen (knit in league by reason of their too much familiarity with that loose lewd Lady) beganne to bee terrible vnto the Father, who in their opinion liued somewhat too long: after whom also [...]uluia caused her husband Anthonie to take weapon against him, no history sheweth why. All which sores when hee had cut away, with the parties also in which they were, yet s [...]ill there rose new, not vnlike a body too full of humours, whereof alwayes some one part or other breaketh out continually into a sicknesse: wherefore hee wished to liue in rest, the onely hope and thought whereof, was the onely ease of all his labours, and this one thing was the dayly prayer and desire of him, who was able otherwise to make euery man master of his desires beside himselfe. Marcus Cicero long time tos­sed vppe and downe betweene Catiline and Clodius, betwixt Pompey and Crassus, who were his open enemies, the rest his doubtfull and vncertaine friends, whilest hee wrestled with the common wealth, and laboured to hold it vp, that now was running more and more to ruine, was at length ouerborne and forced to yeeld to the burthen of it, being neither quiet in prosperity, nor patient in the contrary: this M. Cicero, how often not without cause also doth hee detest that his office borne as Consul, which till then at first, hee neuer cea­sed to commend without end, which in truth hee did not without cause ex­toll, [Page 677] when he spake most of it. What dolefull speeches f [...]l [...]e [...] hee into in one E­pistle to Atticus, vpon the newes that Pompey the father was vanq [...]ished, when his sonne the yonger Pompey ren [...]ed his fathers quailed quarrell in the parts of Spaine? Aske you, quoth he, what I make here, I keepe my selfe to my Tuscul [...]ne, now at length halfe become mine owne man: adding also other things in the foresaid let­ter, wherein both hee bewaileth his time forespent, he complaineth of the pre­sent, and despaireth of any good in the time to c [...]me: hee calleth himselfe now halfe his owne, where in truth no Wise man euer could vse so base and slauish a terme, who will neuer bee so little as halfe his owne, but alwayes will be whole his owne, his owne entire, fr [...]e from others becke and boorde, his owne to vse with little reckoning, what others account therof; for what needeth he regard what others say, who treadeth fortune vnder foot, as euery wise man eyther doth or should do.

CHAP. VI.

LIuius Dr [...]sus, one of the ancestors of Liuia, Augustus his Empresse, a hote spirited, and a very vehement fiery humord man, hauing put new common wealthes in the peoples head, and stirde a new the old tumults of the two brethren, the Gracchi being manned almost with all the power that Italie could make, hauing not yet well weighed the end of things, which now hee could not accomplish to his desire; nor had he yet the liberty to leaue in the middest, hee fell in detestation of his owne vnquiet state from the day of his birth till then, and is saide to haue vttered these very words: I am only he I think that neuer yet had leaue to play, no not when I was a boy: for indeed being vnder age, and comming but as children did into the Senate with his father, he presumed to speake to iudge in the behalfe of diuers men, and laide his credite on the matter in so vehement a sort, that it was saide, many iudgements were giuen wholly as it pleased him. Whether would not so young an aspiring humor, if it had continued, for well a man may coniecture, so soone ripe a stirring head must needes grow in time to the great hurt, publike or priuate, some where or other, and therefore too too late hee made complaint, he had neuer yet leaue to play, who was of a child so trou­blous, and importunate to the State where hee liued, as hee was. Some make question if he did not kill himselfe or no: for a wound hee had in his groine, which was his death: what time though some men doubted, whether he had slaine himselfe or no, yet all men thought it high time for him so to bee dis­patched. It were needelesse here to reckon more of this same humor, who be­ing in the eye of other men most fortunate and h [...]ppy, notwithstanding gaue true testimony against themselues, in great hatred and mislike of all that euer they had done; but with these complaints of theirs, they did neyther alter o­thers, nor amend themselues: for the words sometime brake from them, to the sense I haue said: yet their desires kept on the old vnconstant course, and were no changelings, which sort of life assuredly might it possibly continue a thou­sand yeere or more, yet will it seeme in the end to haue beene but very small, and of no continuance, and all these seu [...]rall conceits, what age or great account of time wll they not consume? Surely these few yeeres allotted vs, albeit na­ture thinke them long, & reason amplifie the course of them, yet must it needs seeme quickly gone, for wee take no holde of them, wee stay them not, nor lay [Page 678] we hands on them, being things more quicke in riddance then any thing else in all the world: yea, we suffer them to passe, as if they were scarce worth the [...]oo­king after, or else were easie to be recouered; so that in conclusion, all men doe confesse, the busied man can neuer doe any thing well: he cannot learne to liue to himselfe, nor to be freed from the vnprofitable cares of this world; for his minde being in a manner, as we see it is, possest with such vnprofitable labours, it is not apt for any good thing, but despiseth it, as the stomacke doth mislike with meate that is alreadie ouerladen. And yet better can he learne any other thing almost in all the world, then intend to learne to li [...]e; which is almost the hardest knowledge that you can deuise.

CHAP. VII.

OTher Artes haue their professors enough in euery corner; which arts some boyes haue learned so perfectly and well, as they could teach them for a need. To liue a man must learne euen all his life long: & that which happily you wil rather wonder at, all our life we may learn in the end how to die. And of so many great men as despised all lets & stops, despising riches, Offices and all voluptuousnes, doing nothing all their life long, but learning stil to liue; yet diuers were there amongst them, that departed this mortalitie, confessing they had not then as yet come to the knowledge: so farre off are these our busie brains from attayning therunto. So that trust me, very wise is he, and a man aboue the common case and capa­citie of men he must needs be assuredly, that spends amisse no iot of all his daies; and therefore longest is his life, who spends all his life, be it much or be it litle, in his owne affaires, and hath neyther mis-spent with folly, nor lost by idlenesse a­ny houre thereof, and much lesse hath intended any other men or matters, then himselfe and his, deeming nothing in this world worth exchanging of his leisure for it; which his leisure he did spare as a thing most precious. And to this man I say his life was long enough, whereas on the contrary part, those men may well complaine of scarcitie, who spend much time in matters popular, to their fruit none at all, or very little, and yet they vnderstand not their own losse. Oftentimes you shall heare great men (whom good fortune is a burden to) midsert their route of suiters, causes, actions and other miseries (which great port makes notwithstanding to seeme felicities) cry o [...]t, I cannot be suffered to liue to my selfe? All these men that seeke thy helpe to doe them pleasure, draw thee from thy selfe. That defendant, how many daies did he bereaue thee off? and how many daies that other standing to be Consul; as also that olde Gentlewo­man, who hath troubled thee with the proouing so many of her husbands Wills? As also that olde Gentleman, whom thou visitest in his sicknesse, which he doth yet but counterfeit, to set greedy mindes on edge, to long for that hee leaueth: and that great friends of thine, who yet reckes not otherwise of such friends as thou art, then onely to be credited by thy courting and attending him. And hauing cast thy dayes in this manner of account, see how few dayes and how foolish a remainder of them comes to thy share. He that now hath got the Office he was long a suiter for, is by and by contented to be rid of it, and saith, Oh when will this geere come to an end? Another sues to the Senate, that hee may be at cost to prouide Playes for the people, and was wondrous ioyfull then when leaue was giuen him, then so to spend his money; and yet shortly after he [Page 679] cryeth, Oh when shall I be rid of them? A third, whom euery Clyent seekes to re­taine in counsell, who fils the barre when he commeth, and leaues euery Court empty at his returne, saith, Oh when will this tearme be at an end? Thus euery man sets life at naught, whiles he desireth things future, and is glutted with the pre­sent; but he that turneth euery moment to some good purpose, that disposeth of eueryday, as he would of all his life, this man doth neyther feare nor wish for to morrow: for what is there wherein any houre can breed him new delight? He knowes that all is vanitie: he hath had his wishes his bellie full; for the rest let fortune doe as her selfe shall please; his rest, his stocke is safe. This man may haue his daies inlarged I confesse, but lesse they shall not be, nor indeed inlarged otherwise, then more meat may be set before him who is now already filled and can eate no more.

CHAP. VIII.

ANd therefore neuer say, This man hath liued long: his white head, his wrinckled face imports the same; for whether he liued long or no thou knowest not: but long indeed I confesse, thou s [...]est that he hath beene. For how canst thou say that he hath sailed much, whom a cruell tempest takes immediately, as soone as he is out of the hauens mouth, & after much hurly-burly, much trauersing his way, and beating vp and downe, it brings him euen the selfe-same way backe to the hauen that euen now he went out of? This man hath not much sailed, but much hath he beene beaten. And here I often maruell much, when I see some men so earnestly desire rest and respite, the men that they desire it of being both so easie to be intreated, and so vnable to hinder it or keepe them from it: the thing in whose respect they wish for rest and leisure so greatly as they doe, doth much concerne them, I meane both the requester and the granter: the thing it selfe is Time, and yet they wish f [...]r it so coldly, or rather so indifferently, as if it were a thing of no value at all; so little doe they weigh the thing which yet in­deede is most precious. And indeed this one thing greatly d [...]ceiueth them, be­cause time is not subiect to their senses, nor is it easie by eye to iudge thereof; and therefore no man accounts more of it then of a very base matter, or rather a thing worthy no mans money. Euery new-yeares tide our Romanes vse to receiue gifts and presents of mightie men, in respect whereof they binde them­selues to dance attendance on the giuers, to bestow their labour, their paine and diligence at anothers deuotion all the yeare after; no man valuing the time hee must bestow: for the same they vse and abuse many times so lauishly, as if in­deed it cost them nothing. But if the meanest man amongst them should ch [...]nce to be sicke, if de [...]th come neerer then they were aware of, see what suit straight they make to the Physitian: or if they feare the punishment of death by law, see if they doe not offer gladly all the wealth they are worth, to redeeme their life, so diuers and so different be their desires [...] And if it were as easie to say what yeares each man hath in future time to liue, as it is easie to tell you how many he hath liued already: how would some men tremble that should see so few yeares remaining; and how chary would they be in bestowing them? And yet notwithstanding contrariwise, it is an easie matter to order that we see is cer­taine and more cause haue we to be charie of that, which we know not how soone it will be plenty. Nor are wee yet to thinke they know not what a jewell [Page 680] this time is which we speake of: for their common words of courtesie to their best friends, are these; I would goe, I would ride, I would spend a moneth to pleasure thee: & indeed so they do for other men, though they perceiue it not, or rather they loose so much of their owne, without eyther turning it to their friends behoofe, or perceiuing the losse thereof in them [...]elues; which makes them take the losse in better part, because they do not feele it. Howbeit no man will restore thee thy time againe. Thy dayes shall s [...]ill go on as they haue done hitherto, nor canst thou euer either recall time spent, or cause it for time present to cease to spend: no, thy dayes shall make no more noyse then yet they haue done; nor shall they giue more warning of their swiftnes now then euer. Time shall slide and still say nothing as it hath done alwayes. It is not like the proro­gation of our dayes, and of an Office, neyther Prince nor people can giue it thee the second time, but euen as it begun from the first moment, so shall it still con­tinue. Ye shall take vp Inne at no place, how then? forsooth thou art occupi­ed and thy life hasts away, and death shal come euen then when thou least drea­mest of it; and wilt thou, or haue thou no will to it, thou must yet needes in­tend it.

CHAP. IX.

CAn any mortall man, be he neuer so wise and politicke, tell vs how we may more throughly intend our selues then yet we doe? or prescribe vs how to liue hereafter more our owne then yet wee are? Nay, themselues with losse of life are long occupied in tel­ling how themselues will liue, and (God wot) long they be about their owne conceits; and indeede the greatest losse of our life is delay, which weares away the first day, bereauing vs of present time whilst it promiseth vs thing [...] future. Nor is there any greater impediment why wee liue not out of hand then expectation, which hangeth alwayes on to morrow: so thou loosest this day and determinest what shall become of that which fortune is wholly Ladie of, while it passeth and slippeth from thee that thou art Lord of. What hopest thou, what gapest thou for? All that is to come is vncertaine, and there­fore liue out of hand: for the greatest Poet that euer was [...] as it were by inspira­tion, giues thee wholsome councell,

Our happiest dayes doe passe from vs poore mortall men
First, and before the rest.

And therefore why delayest thou? Why stayest thou? Life flieth if thou lay not handes vpon it; and if thou doe lay handes vpon it, yet neuerthelesse it fly­eth; and therefore striue thou alwayes with the swiftnesse of time, and be as swift in vsage and turning it to profite, as thou wouldest be quicke to draw wa­ter out of a Riuer that thou knewest would n [...]t continue in his running. And in this, well saith the Poet, he calleth them not happy yeares, but happy daies, thereby hitting vs in the teeth with our inf [...]nite conceit of time to come. Why doest thou in security and in such dispatch of time so leisurely dreame of mo­neths and yeares, yea, and draw thy yeares also (to please thy fancie withall) so long in such a number? He talketh with thee of dayes, and of dayes also now fleeting. Nor is it doubt, but as he saith, each most happie day leaues vs first [Page 681] mortall men, who are dayly more and more busied each day then other, whom age breakes in vpon, not hauing yet put off our childish affections, to the which wee come vnready and vnarmed for it, for we haue nought ready for it, but it lights vpon vs vnawares, before wee dreamt of it, nor did we feele it comming day by day as wee should, but it fares with vs like those men whome a tale or some pleasant matter read, or other meditation deceiueth in their iourney, so that they know & see they are come to their iorneyes end, before they thought that halfe their way was spent thitherward, euen so this daily quicke race of our life, which as well wee passe on sleepe, as we doe awake, it shewes not it selfe to vs, whiles wee bee occupied, but in the end when it is gone.

CHAP. X.

ANd that I saide, if I would follow by peecemeale as I might; I could finde great reason why to proue the busied mans life shor­test as I saie. Fabianus was wont to say (who was none of these great formall talkatiue Philosophers, but one of those formed former aged, true and plaine Philosophers) We should fight against affections, not by slight but by might, not by easie & gentle venues, but with all the [...]orce we can make. We should striue to beat downe their senseles Army, for touching would not helpe the matter, they must bee strongly set on: yet to shew these men their error, I will not onely inueigh at them in bitter manner, but I will striue plainely and sensiblie to teach them this their folly. All our life is diuided into three parts, that is, that was, and that is to come, that wee doe God knowes is short, that we shall doe is doubtfull, that wee haue done is out of doubt: for in this la [...]t indeed, dame fortune hath lost her force, nor cā it now be pur in the power of any thing to make vndone; & yet this time the busied man hath wholy lost; for he hath no leaue to look back, or if once he haue leasure, yet small pleasure takes he to record a thing past, which he hath such reason to repent him of: for little lust he needs must haue to cal to mind time mispēt, which he dares not now vnfold again, for feare the faults, which at the time vnder colour of delight hee was content to commit, by new handling become more manifest, & shew themselues in their kind; and indeed no man doth willingly straine himselfe to looke backeward but such an one as doth all thinges vnder guard, and in awe of his owne con­science, which is neuer deceiued. Hee that hath in many things desired with ambition, despised with disdaine, conquered with insolency, cousined with subtlety, scraped to him with couetousnesse, mispent by prodigality, this man must needs bee much afraid to recall himselfe to memory. And yet this recapi­tulation of time past and spent, is the time already shriued, already past all chance, and feare of change, free from fortunes counterbu [...]es, out of danger eyther of penury, of feare or sicknesse; this cannot bee distempered, nor taken from vs, but remaineth our perpetuall and impregnable possession: dayes are present neuer more then one and one, and they by moments also: but of time past many monethes, many yeeres at your commandement, are ready prest at a becke; they are content you looke on them, you handle them, and hold them, which the busied man is neuer well at leasure to performe: none but the quiet carelesse man can fetch a vagary leasurely throughout all parts of his life; the busied mind is (in a manner) ringde and yokte for rowting; he cannot bow nor bend, nor intend to looke backe, and such mens liues sinke into a bottomlesse [Page 672] pit or gulfe: but euen as it doth not profite thee to haue powred to thy be­hoofe neuer so much in quantity of any thing whatsoeuer, neuer so good in quality, if thou haue not wherein to holde it and preserue it: so little booteth it thee, how long time thou hast to liue, if thou hast not wherein to holde it, or bestow it; but lettest time flit away through thy fancy shaken, chinked and tot­tered desires. Now the present time is short, and so short, that some men thinke it in a manner nothing, for it is euer flitting: it runneth, it huddles forward, and it ceaseth (in a manner) before it come, nor doth it otherwise make stay, then the world or the starres, whose neuer resting rowling, neuer stands in one place long: and yet this onely present time belongs to the busied man, which it selfe is yet so short as it cannot haue hands laid on it, & yet it amongst so many mat­ters slippes away ere we are aware of it.

CHAP. XI.

AT a word, wilt thou see how little while they liue: no more but see how desirous they bee still to liue yet longer? olde layed vp, aged Syers, yet cease not still to begge one yeere, yet more and more: yea their conceit still runneth, they are yonger then they seeme for; they feed themselues with leasing, and such a pleasure they take to belie their age, as if their destiny and death would come so much the later for their false belying it; and let any weakenesse giue them but neuer so little a warning of their mortalities; how fearefully they die, not as if they did depart, but as if will they, nill they, they were pulled out by the eares, then they crie; what fooles were wee that tooke no pleasure in life, then they vow, they will liue at hearts ease, then they see how in vaine they sought for that they could not enioy: then they acknowledge all their labour was to small effect: but they that liue to themselues in seuerall, tending to no mans businesse be­sides, what lets vs to account their liues large enough? none of it is lost or mis­spent, here and there in other matters none of it is hazarded at fortunes com­mand: nought is lost by negligence, nought is giuen away by largesse to other mens vses, nought is lost as superfluous, but euery iot or moment of it is coun­ted good reuenue: and therefore life thus spent, bee it neuer so little, is enough, nor will a wise man feare at any time without feare to die. But here you aske mee whom I call the busied man? thinke not I meane onely such as eyther are attended on by great troupes of suitors, with great pompe and countenance, or with some shew of base and seruile nature, waite all day vpon others, who for duties sake are called abroad to attend at others dores, or such as doe waite all the weeke long vpon the owtred, to gaine a penny at that vnseemely sale. No, some mens best leasure euen at home in their gardens of sport and pleasure, e­uen a bed, or where else a man may be said to bee at rest and leasure; yet is it all consumed (as I said) with businesse, yea themselues are a trouble vnto themselues, whose life I call not leasureable, or full of leasure, but an idle kinde of busines rather.

CHAP. XII.

CAllest thou him at quiet, who with great care seekes in all corners for the mettall that was made at the burning of Corinth? and spends the more part of his time in searching out amongst rustie copper, to see if he can light on any of it? or annoints his seruants whom hee keeps to get prizes at wrastling? or is suruaying eyther his sheepe or his land, or other reuenues? or sayest thou, he is at leasure, that euery day spends an howre or two in the Barbers shop, cutting euery day down again that grew the night before? deuising vpon euery haire he hath, whether it be better to cut it, or let it grow? cha­sing like a yong Emperour, if the Barber were but neuer so little negligent, or lesse curious, because he thoght he had a man of discretiō in hand to cut, who are straight wayes in great rage, if neuer so little of their loue-locks be nipped away? or if euery knot therof fall not round in a ring? of which sort of curious fools, some had rather see disorder in the common wealth they liue in, then in their haire? & had rather see their locks kept faire, then regard their own health? and care more to be accounted a neat nice fellow, then to haue the voyce for honesty? doest thou say that this man is at rest and leasure? so wholy busied and occupied betweene the combe & the glasse? or that he is so, that spends his time in making, hearing, & learning songs, forcing his voyce, (which of nature is best and easiest so to be kept when it is full and plaine) into a kinde of warbling or relishing against nature? whose singers are euer going, as if they stil were tinning, or striking time in a song: who bee they vsed in a matter of ne­uer so great importance, yea, sometimes sad and sorrowfull, yet are euer and anon resounding some peece of a song or other? these men (say I) haue not leasure, but are busied with a needles & thriftles labour, whose time of feasting, I count not time of pleasure or vacation; I see them still so carefull how their Plate and their seruices, and their seruants may in decent manner become the feast, where hence they seeke the name of fine neat fellows, & so curiously they regard this fond humor of their own, as they neyther eate nor drinke in quiet for it. Nor account I them their owne men, who all day long iog vp and down from this friend to that in their coaches and wa­gons, and will not misse an howre of their dayly gaddings in them, but haue their ser­uants to aduertise them, it is now time to bath, to swim, to sup; yea so much they giue themselues ouer vnto this idle vaine, that of themselues they know not, or will seeme to be ignorant when themselues are an hungred?

CHAP. XIII.

IT were long to run ouer these fellows one by one, whose liues haue bin spent either at Tables, or at Ball, or in basting themselues against the sunne; I cannot call them leasurable, whose pleasures put them to such pain and businesse. As for them that spend their dayes in vnpro­fitable studies, no man doubts, but that with much a doe, they doe nothing, of which sort there are many now amongst vs Romanes. It was the Gre­cians old disease to beat their brains in finding out how many Rowers Vlysses ship had? whether Ilias or Odyssea were formost written? or whether one man writ them both? and many such like questions, which whether you keepe the knowledge of thē to your selfe or no, they neither greatly benefit your conscience to keepe them, nor seem you betterscholler to know them, but rather somewhat busier or more curi­ous then others. And euen this vain desire to learne things needles possesseth now the Romanes also. When I was last in Rome, I heard a learned man reckon vp, what things each Roman Captain had first been author of; Duilius first did winne in fight by sea: Curius Dentatus first did lead Elephants in triumph; and these things though they tend not to true glory in deed, yet they belong in some sort to matters politike. Such knowledge will not profit much; yet doth it leade vs forward in a sort with a [Page 684] petty pleasant discoursing vanity. Grant we also them leaue to search what man [...]irst perswaded the Romans to go to sea. One Claudius forsooth it was, whom they ther­fore called Caudex, because any building much of boords, was then called in Latine Caudex, and bookes of Record, are also at this day called Codices, and boates or [...]ray­ers that carry any thing vp and down the Tiber, are and haue been euer since named Caudicariae. Be it also not amisse to know, that Valerius Coruinus was the first that wan Messana, and therupon had the name of Messana, added in reward of his prowesse, which by little alteration of a letter or two is now called Messala; the originall wher­of euery man is not acquainted with. Beare we also with him, that searcheth how L. Sulla first let Lions loose to fight in our Romane Circ [...]s or Parrish Garden, what time K. Bocchus sent him dart-flingers to kill them loose, or as our Forresters now speake to hunt them of force, where before time they were alwayes presented tyed. Let vs not likewise enquire, if it were to the purpose, that Pompey caused those (who were condemned) to fight in the same Parke with eighteen Elephants. This princi­pall person in Rome (who amongst the ancient Chiefetaines of warre is renowned by reason of his bounty, and singular mildnesse in manners) hath supposed it would be a memorable sp [...]ctacle to cause mee to die after some new fashion. It is a little matter to make them fight, and to be wounded in diuers places, he must haue them crushed vnder the insupportable weight of these great and huge creatures: it had beene better to haue buried such a history, for feare lest afterward some other great Lord hearing the recitall thereof, should conceiue a liking to practise the like inhu­mane and barbarous action. O how much doth great ptosperity ouerspread our vn­derstanding with darknes! Pompey reputed himselfe equall with the gods, at such time as he exposed so many troups of poor men to sauage beasts, that were brought from forrain countries, & when he caused a mortall fight to be performed between creaturs so different, shedding much bloud in the presēce of the Roman people; whē as he him selfe an on after was to be reduced to that necessity to shed others: but hee himself also (deceiued by the disloialty of the councel of AEgypt) was stabbed by one that had serued vnder him & then vnderstood that at last how vaine that surname of Great was, which was attributed vnto him by others.

CHAP. XIIII.

BVt to return vnto my purpose, & to shew in other recitals the superflu­ous diligence of others, the same discourse aboue mentioned, reporteth that Metellus hauing conquered the Carthaginians in their quarrels for Sicilia, was the only man that euer led 120. Elephants captiues before his chariot: he tolde also, how Sylla was the last Romane that enlarged the common or void ground without the wals of Rome (which was not suffered to be done amongst our ancestors for any conquest or land gotten in any Country, but only in Italy, though Syllas conquests, were all of them out of Italy we know, which point was yet more worth the knowledge, then how the hill Auentinus was with­out the compasse of this ground, I speake of without the wals; for one of these two reasons, eyther for that the people seuered themselues from the Senate into this hill, when the Senators would haue made a law, that no Patritius or Senators child shold mar [...]ic with him or her that was not so, or for that the vultures, (whose flight Ro­mulus obserued, when he built this City) did not compas in this hill with the other six. Many more curious points did this man declare, which if hee did not inuent, yet did he little better; for grant all these nice points to be written in good sooth, yet I pray you what amisses doe any of them mend? whose desires doe they minish? or who by them is made eyther more couragious, or iuster, or more liberall? mine old friend Fabianus was wont to doubt, whether it were better bee ignorant, or to know such vanities. But I take them to bee leasurable, that study diuine wise­dome, [Page 685] which no time present can consume, nor no time to come diminish, and wholly exercise themselues in celestiall contemplation; for such men do not onely vse their owne time well, but they also adde thereto the ages spent be­fore they were borne, and enioy them also as their owne, yea all the famou [...] Recorders of most sacred opinions, were after a sort, as it seemeth euen borne for them, and in a manner prepared the way for them how to liue the better. Which worthy writers bring vs with much [...]ase and little labour to most wor­thy matters brought by them out of darkenesse into light, yea they keepe vs not from things done or said in any age ere wee were borne, they admit vs vnto all things, yea if wee lust by the greatnesse of an heroicall minde to passe the narrow bounds of mans weake reach, wee haue time inough to doe so if wee list our selues. Why then leaue we not this brittle transitory time of life, and why betake wee vs not wholly (at least in minde and cogitation to these infinite and euerlasting matters, which we haue in common with better natures. These men that run continually courting and waiting alwayes vpon great men, trou­bling others & themselues in their so doing, when they haue gone a madding, and dan [...]d attendance at al mens dores, not leauing any great man vnwaited on, when they haue done their dayes labour in saluting them, how many I pray you can they haue visited of so infinit & busie a number of great men in Rome? Among which great mighty ones, how many are there, whom for because, that either they were a sleepe, or otherwise occupied, or not at leasure to intend them, they could not therefore be admitted to speake with all? how many are there, who after that they haue long been waited for, come out, and sodainly looke vpon them, and are gone againe? nay; how many are there that shunne to take their way through such troupes, as come to waite vpon them to the hall or Senate? and rather take som [...] backe-wayes through some secret by-corner, and leaue them all, as if it were not much more vnseemely, and worse manners of the twaine in this sort, rather to cosen them by auoiding them when they were once admitted then absolutely to keepe them out before they came; and yet how many are there that hauing scarsly slept out their yesterdayes surfet; yet breake their sleepe poore soules themselues to waite till it please another to rise, like forsooth for their paines to bee saluted in some rechlesse or proud sort, by their names of the great men, aft [...] hee hath had the same a thousand times put into his head by some prompter or other: but indeede if wee will needes dance attendance with fruit, I tell you they waite wisely that dayly court Zeno, Pythagoras, Democritus, and the rest the pillars of good learning; that endeauor to make Aristotle, and Theophrastus well known vnto them. None of these but will be alwayes at leasure to intend thee: none but will dismisse thee a man happier for thy selfe, and more in loue with him for his company, then thou wast at thy first comming. They will not let thee go [...] empty, when­soeuer thou wilt goe, come at midnight or at midday, any man may speake with them. None of these will force thee to die before thy time, as great Prin­ces doe of their most faithfull seruants, but euery one will instruct thee how to die; none of these will spend or take away any [...]ot of thy dayes, but are all ra­ther ready to bestow their time on thee; thou needest not feare what thou saiest in their company; yea no enemy of thine [...]an suspect th [...] for being of­ten with them.

CHAP. XV.

OF these thou mayest obtaine whatsoeuer thou wilt; nor will they be in the fault if thou take not of them as much as thou art able: Oh how happy is that olde man that hath spent all his dayes in the seruice of them! hee is sure of secret friends with whom he may consult in great things or small, whose counsaile he may aske euery houre at his pleasure, from whom truth he shall heare with­out vpbrayding, praise without flatterie, and whom well he may imitate with­out note of apishnesse. We say commonly we could not chuse of whom wee would be borne; but of such we came as our fortune was we should come: but in this case yet we may chuse of whom we will be borne. These worthy wits and write [...]s haue their stocke and families; chuse of which thou wilt be, and thou shalt be not onely of his name, but his successor also for his wealth and liuelyhood, which is also commonly the more ample, among the more it is di­uided: these will leade thee to eternity, and will lift thee vp so high, as whence no man liuing shall bee able to remoue thee. And this is onely the way to stretch out thy mortalitie, yea, to change it into immortalitie if any there be. Honours and other monuments, what euer either ambition hath by Law esta­blished, or cost hath built, do quickly perish. Time weares out all things, yea, and soonest weareth those things which it hath made hallowed; only wisdom can­not be hurt nor impaired any way. No time present can consume it, nor time to com diminish it, the longer it lasteth the more it is still regarded; for enuy touch­eth onely things neere in memory [...] and more absolutely do we reuerence things farther off. And so we see the wise-mans life is large enough, he is not inclosed as others are, but is onely freed from the lawes, that otherwise mankinde is streightned withal: yea, all time doth yeeld vnto him, as it yeeldeth we conf [...]sse to the gods themselues. Time is past: this consideration doth him good. Time is come: this he vseth. Time will come: he preuenteth it; and thus compa­ring time with time, makes his life very long, whereas their life is very short, who forget the time past [...] neglect that is p [...]esent, and [...]eare the time to come: which when it once is come, too late poor [...] [...]en they finde, they were all very busie in doing nothing.

CHAP. XVI.

NEyther art thou to thinke that by this argument it is approued that they leade a long life, because sometimes they call vpon death. Imprudencie vexeth them with vncertain affections, and such as assault and encounter thos [...] which they feare: they ther­fore oftentimes wish for death, because they feare it; neither is that an argument likewise whereby thou shouldest be perswaded that they should liue long [...] because the day seemeth oftentimes long vnto them, because whilst the appointed houre of supper time commeth they complaine that the houres steale on slowly. For if at any time occupations faile them, they storme because they are left without businesse and idle: neither know they how they may dispose or inlarge the same. They therefore intend some occupation, and all the time that is betweene, is grieuous vnto them, in such sort vndoubtedly [Page 687] as when a day is proclaimed wherin the sword-players are to skirmish, or when as any appointed time of any other, eyther spectacle or pleasure is expected, they long and labour to outstrip the houres. The delay of all that which they hope for is long vnto them. But that time which they loue is short and head­long, and becommeth likewise more short by their fault, for they flie from one delight to another, and cannot settle themselues vpon one sort of pleasure. The dayes are not long vnto them, but displeasant and tedious. Contrariwise, how short thinke they the nights to be, which they lose in embracing their harlots and drunkennesse? From thence grew the furie of those Poets, who fed and flattered mens errors with fables, who fained that Iupiter being bewitched with the pleasure of his adulterous embraces, redoubled the night: What other thing is it then to animate wickednesse to make the gods the authors of them, and to giue an excusable license to an infirmitie by the example of diuinitie? But can these men finde the nights other then very short, that they buy at so high a price? They lose the day in expectation of the night, and the night through the feare of the day. Their pleasures are accompanied with feares, burried with diuers disquiet perturbations; their greatest ioy is drowned in carefull thought. How long shall this continue? Because of this passion Kings haue bewailed their power; neither did the greatnesse of their fortune delight them, but the end that was to ensue terrified them. When that most insolent Persian King spread his army along the fields, whose number he could not tell, and scarcely could he tell what quantitie of ground would well containe it; it is said he wept, considering that within one hundred yeares there should not one of all that number be left aliue: but he himselfe that wept was euen the man that hastened all their deaths, as indeed afterwards proued, when as what by Land, what by Sea, what in sight, and what in flight, euery mothers sonne al­most, very shortly after miscarried, whom hee feared should not liue an hun­dred yeares.

CHAP. XVII.

MOreouer, their ioyes are full of feares, they build them not on sure ground, but by the same vanitie they rise, by the same they fall. And what will you thinke of those their times, which in their own confession are vnhappie, if these whereof they vaunt themselues, and in which they take themselues to be more then men, be scarcely perfect? Euery highest tipe of happinesse is full of feare; nor may we well in truth lesse build on any fortune then that which is happiest. One free Citie needeth another to maintaine it, and hauing once that we desired, we are forced straight wayes to desire anew, to haue wherewith to maintaine the for­mer state: for euery thing that fortune giueth is vncertaine; and the higher al­waies that felicitie is, the neerer euer is it to a downfall and ruine. And no man can take pleasure in the state he knoweth assuredly shall shortly fall; and ther­fore most vnhappy, not onely short is their life who with much adoe procure that which with much more labour they must possesse, with much trouble compassing the thing they desire, but with much more care continuing the thing once gotten; all which while no care is had of time, of preciou [...] time, that neyther shall nor can be recouered againe. Olde businesse breeds new busines, one hope bringeth forth another, this high desire makes way for an higher then [Page 688] it to follow it, and so no end is sought of the miseries we are in, though euerie day we change the matter which procureth miseries. Our owne preferments proue euen burdens to vs; others honours haue cost vs time to procure them for them: nor haue we so soone left to sue for our selues, but immediately we are suters in the same case for others. We will pleade no more as Counsellors as it were to day; to morrow we are admitted to the Bench as Iudges; the third day happily called to the Councel-table. Marius is no sooner dismissed out of warre, but at home he is in suite for the Consulship. Quintius is dismissed of his Dictatorship to day, not long after he is called from the Ploughes thereto a­gaine. Yong Scipio scarce fit for such a charge, is sent against the Carthagini­ans as it were to day; he conquereth Hanniball and Antiochus, is made Consull and getteth his brother to be made next after him, and so from dignitie to dig­nitie: and if himselfe be not the hinderance, in time he shall be dignified no lesse then Iupiter, yea, and after that by his industry Rome was deliuered from the feare of Haniball, and he returned home to his wife and children, he was straight­wayes occupied in ciuill factions and suits for offices: and rather then he would satisfie himselfe with ordinary preferments, he chose wilfully to goe into exile and was proude thereof; as if forsooth when happy and fortunate businesse be­gan to faile him, he would rather busie himselfe in vnfortunate proceedings then it should be said he wanted busines; so farre we are from enioying the lei­sure and pleasure which yet we euery day desire and wish for.

CHAP. XVIII.

WHy then, good friend Paulinus, exempt thy selfe from this com­mon errour that possesseth the world; and now thou hast beene busied more then any of thine equals in age or honour, betake thy selfe at length into a hauen of quiet, call to mind what storms thou hast endured, what tempests, partly for priuate matters, and oftentimes for publique affaires thou hast entangled thy selfe withall: thy ver­tue hath beene tried sufficiently in troublesome vnquiet matters: trie what it can doe in peace, at home in quiet. Thou hast spent the greater, or at least the better of thine age in publique businesse, in causes common to thy wife and children, turne some part thereof to thine owne vse, to thine owne be­hoofe. I wish thee not to betake thee to an idle, or vnlearned, or vnprofi­table a vacation, nor would I haue thee to spend the residue of thy worthy nature, in sleepe or other vnseemely common peoples pastime, this I count not rest or quietnesse. Thou shalt finde many greater matters then those that yet thou hast beene conuersant in, to bestow thy repose and leisure in. Thou hast kept the accounts of the Roman Store-houses, which is as much almost as the accounts in a manner of all the world; the same I say thou hast kept with such abstinence as if they had not belonged to thee, with such diligence as if they had beene thine owne reuenues, and yet with such integritie as if thou knewest well it were the wealth of the Citie and State of Rome, and thou to answer for eue­rie halfe [...]peny: and in this thine office thou hast won the loue of all men, wher­in other men could hardly auoide much hatred; and yet trust me, it is a wiser part to be able to giue a good account of thine owne life and liuing, then of all the corne in the countrey. Recall therefore this worthy minde of thine, fit I know for greatest matters; recall it yet from this honourable, yet scarce a happy [Page 689] service to shew thy selfe at home a while, & remember this was the finall and most principal end of thy creation and first being, that in the end thou shouldest be Surueyor of the Cities corne, thou must propose a more priuate, but yet a higher and better calling: nor will there want any frugall and painefull men to supply thine office; so farre fitter are slow and vnwildie jades, or young and vn­tamed Colts to beare great burdens, then the trampling and stirring Steede, whose life and actiuitie no man durst euer charge with a lumpish burden. Be­sides this, bethink thy selfe how much care attendeth thee whilst thou vndergo­est so great a charge. Thou hast to deale with the bellies of men. A people that endureth hunger is not subiect vnto reason, neither is mitigated by equity, nor pacified by any praiers. It is not long time since that vnder the Emperor Caligu­la, although now displeased (if dead men haue any sense) to be dead in a few dayes, and to haue left the Roman people aliue, that there was not found suffi­cient victuals in the Citie for seuen or eight dayes: and whilst this Prince made bridges of boats, and sported himselfe with the meanes and forces of the Em­pire, the most dreadfull of all other euils, that is to say, famine besieged Rome. His imitation of a furious and forrain King, and vnhappily puffed vp with pride well may cost the ouerthrow and famine of his countrey, and that which fol­loweth famine the ruine of all things. What minde then had they and care, who had the charge to prouide corne for the common store. They prepared themselues to receiue the stroakes of swords, to be stoned, burned, and to meete with Caligula; yet dissembled they very carefully the cure of this euill, that was hidden in the intrailes of the Citie; for there are some infirmities wherun­to we ought to applie remedies, without discouerie of the sickenesse, as contra­riwise diuers men are dead, because they knew they were sicke.

CHAP. XIX.

REtire thy selfe into these hauens more calme, more assured, and more great: thinkest thou that to giue order, that the corne bee more closed vp in the storehouses good and cleane without being spoyled by the malice and negligence of the Porters, in such sort that wet neither seaze or ouerheat it, and consequently, that it returne to his measure and weight, is a thing of as great importance, as when thou approachest the celestiall misteries, and when thou commest to enquire what the nature of the Gods is, there will their condition, their forme, the e­state of thy soule, and the places where nature shall lodge vs after our decease, what it is that sustaineth the most weightiest of all the workes of nature in the centre of the world, and suspendeth the lighter things aboue, and carrieth fire vp on high, and exciteth the starres in their courses? In briefe, all the rest full of great miracles: will thou forsaking the earth, rowse thy mind and conside­ration to these things, now, and so long as thy bloud is warme, and vigor strong? thou must aspire to that which is the best. An ardent loue of prayse-worthy sciences, the practise of vertue, the forgetfulnesse of passions, the science to liue and die well, a deepe repast discharged from all worldly affaires, attend thee in such a manner of life. True it is, that the condition of all those that are en­tangled with worldly affaires is miserable: but yet more miserable is the estate of those men who are not busied in their affaires, but sleepe, walke and eate according to other mens appetites, and are constrained to loue and hate those [Page 690] things that are most free of all others: if such men would know how short these mens liues are, let them consider how much they rebate of their owne: you enuy not those whom you see attaine vnto charges, and grow in reputation amongst the people. Such aduancements are got with the expence of life, and to obtaine the credite that a man may count the yeare of his name, they vse all the yeares of their life. Some other there are that being desirous to attaine the highest degree of honour, after they haue trauelled long therein, are dead in the middest of their way: and others, which hauing attained the same by in­finite and euill practises, haue beene seased with this distastfull apprehension, that they haue trauelled much to build them a tombe, and make themselues spoken of after their death: some also conceiuing new hopes in their old yeers, as if they had beene in their prime, haue lost their hearts, and perished in the midst of their vnquiet and vniust attemps and endeauours.

CHAP. XX.

BAse is the man, who being already olde, hath sought to grow in credite amongst the foolish common people, & is dead in spen­ding himselfe to pleade for meere strangers that would set him on worke: as abiect is he, that being rather weary of life, then of trauell, is falne amidst the affaires which he hath embraced, and because hee that hauing death at his dore, tosseth his papers and affaires to the great contentment of his heire, who long time expected for such a prey, I cannot bury in silence one example that commeth to my memory: T [...]ranius was an olde man of exact diligence, who alter the ninetieth yeere of his age, be­ing discharged of his office of commissary of victuals by the Emperour Claudi­us, got him into his bed, commanded all his seruants to muster about him, and to bewaile him as if hee were dead: the familie lamented the repose of their old master, and continued this sorrow vntill such time as he was restored to his office. Is there so great a pleasure then to die bnsied? there are many that re­semble this Turanius, they desire to trauell euen at that time when they can no more, they combat against the feeblenesse of their bodies, and thinke not their age troublesome, except it be because it commandeth them to liue in re­pose. When a Souldier is fifty yeeres old, [...]he law constraineth him not any more to beare Armes: a Senator hauing attained to threescore yeeres, is no more bound to attend the Senate; [...] more hardly obtaine leaue to repose themselues at their owne hands [...] from [...]he Law. In the meane while whilest they assaile others, and are assai [...] themselues, whilest one breaketh an others rest, whilest euery one tormenteth himselfe, life slippeth away without pro­fite, with our pleasure, or any content of the mind, there is no man that repre­sent [...]th death vnto himselfe, there is no man that extendeth not his hopes farre o [...]f. Some likewise there are that dispose of these things which are after life, as of their proud Sepulchres, of inscriptions; and dedicacy of their buildings, of sports, combates, and other solemnities of their ambitious fune­rals: but vndoubtedly these mens obsequies should be solem­nized with torches and Tapers, as if they had liued very little.

The End of the Booke of the shortnes of Life.

OF COMFORT, ADDRESSED BY LVCIVS ANNAEVS SENE [...]A TO POLYBIVS.

The Argument of IVSTVS LIPSIVS.

THis booke was written during the time of his exile at such time as hee was deiected both in mind and body (wee must confesse it, and the wri­ting testifieth it) about the third yeare of his banishment: for he open­ly maketh mention of the first entrance into Britany, which was about that time: As touching POLYBIVS hee was one of the most pow­erfull free men that belonged to CLAVDIVS, and receiued that title by reason of his studies, for he was learned in the Greeke and Latine tongues, and may wee gather honest appar [...]ntly by the prayses which SENECA loadeth him with; hee comforteth him in the death of his brother, and the whole disposition of the Booke is hidden, because both the beginning and diuers things else are missing: In that which is extant, this is his order: he denieth that wee should grieue at the death of one man, because the worlde it selfe and whatsoeuer is in it is condemned by that law: likewise because the griefe is vaine, and without fruit. Thirdly, that wee are borne to afflictions, and that we ought to fashion our selues thereunto. Fourthly, hee calleth to witnesse, the will of the dead, and sheweth his desire not to liue. Fifthly, that in constancy and example hee ought to exceed his other brothers, because hee was a worthy person, and all mens eyes were fixed on him. Sixthly, he wisheth him to take comfort from his studies which hee alwayes loued. This and such like vntill the 31. Chapter. From thence forward hee intermixeth the example of those who haue endured the like couragiously; amongst these (not with­out vilde flattery) he produceth CAESARS example, whom hee wonderfully prai­seth, and in conclusion once againe sendeth POLYBIV [...] to his booke and studies, as a remedy of his griefe: wee cannot deny but this was SENECAES writing: I thinke not to the intent hee meant it should be published, but according to his present for­tune abiectly, and too humbly written to a slaue (alasse) adorned with how many praises? I am ashamed, I am ashamed, whosoeuer published this, was an enemy to SENECA, and his glory.

OVT OF T [...]E [...] CHAP.

IF thou compare our bodies with them, they are strong, if thou reduce them to the condition of nature that destroyeth all things, and recalleth them thither from whence shee made them, they are fraile; for what can mortall hands make im­mo [...]all? Those seuen miracles, and whatsoeuer else more wonderfull then these, the ambition of succeeding yeeres haue builded, shall bee seene leueled with the ground; the end of things are varied, and whatsoeuer hath had a beginning shal haue an end: Some maintaine that the wicked [Page 692] shall perish, and if thou thinke it lawfull to belieue, so much then shall a day come that shall dissipate the same, and drowne the whole vniuerse (which con­taineth all whatsoeuer is diuine and humane) into their [...]ormer confusion and darkenesse: now then let him lament that list, by reason of the death of so ma­ny persous that haue been, let him deplore the destruction of Carthage, Numan­tium and Corinth, or whatsoeu [...]r places were notorious, eyther in their flou­rishing or fall, when as this likewise as euidently appeareth vnto him, that euen that which hath nothing whereupon to fall, must perish; let him goe and complaine himselfe, that the Destinies (which must one day attempt and ex­ecute so great a mischiefe) haue not spared him likewise.

CHAP. XXI.

Secon [...]y [...]here is nothing that be [...]alleth vs, that hath not be [...]allen others. WHat man is hee of so proud and insolent arrogancy, that in this necessity of nature that reuoketh all things to the same end, will haue himselfe and his exempted out of the ranke of all others, and discharge some house from that ruine which shall deuoure the whole world. It is therefore a great comfort for a man to bethinke himselfe that the same hath hapned vnto him, which all others haue suffered before him, N [...]ither do our sorrowes pro [...]ite those whom wee bewaile nor our se [...]ues. and all that follow him must endure, and therefore in my iudgement nature hath made that most common which is most grieuous, to the end that the equality thereof might in some sort leni [...]ie the cruelty of the fate. This likewise will yeeld thee no little comfort, if thou thinke that thy sor­row will neither profit him whom thou bewailest, nor thy selfe; for thou woul­dest not haue that long that is vnprofitable: For if sorrow would profit vs any thing; I refuse not to intermixe the remainder of those teares that my aduerse [...]ortune hath left me with thine; yea more likewise will I finde out some rem­nant of remorse, that may flow from mine eyes that are dried vp by so many teares which I haue spent by reason of the misfortunes of my house: if that may returne thee any profite, why ceasest thou? let vs complaine: I will take the cause in hand, and make it mine owne. O fortune that in all mens iudge­ment art most vniust, vntill this present it was supposed that thou sparedst this worthy man, who by thy fauour had attained such credite, that his felicity (which is a thing both rare and lesse heard of) was not enuyed by any man; be­hold thou hast impressed a sorrow in him more greater then he could receiue, but in the losse of the Emperour, & when thou haddest attempted and sought into him euery wayes, thou couldst not finde any fit meanes to assaile him but this: A probable [...] Senacaes [...] we [...] the [...]gh [...]st minds. for what other iniury couldst thou haue done him? what; take away his money? neuer was he a slaue vn [...]o it, and now also as farre as in him lieth, hee casteth it from him; and in this his so great felicity and means of enriching him­selfe, hee seeketh no greater fruit therby then the contempt therof. What take away his friends? Thou knewest he was so well beloued, that hee might easi­ly substitute others in their places that were lost; for of all those great Lordes whom I haue knowne in the Emperours house, this man alone in my iudge­ment was such a one that although it were expedient for all men to entertaine his friendship, yet their affection and desire to bee in his fauour, was farre more great then the assistance they pretended to reape by his countenance. What de­priue him of his honour? but that is so setled in him, that thou hast no power to shake it. What, rob him of his health? thou knowest that his mind was so [Page 693] well grounded in liberall sciences (wherein hee is not onely bred vp but borne) that all infirmities of the body whatsoeuer cannot abash him. What, take away his life? how little haddest thou hurt him? the excellency of his mind had pro­mised him a life of longer continuance [...] hee hath carefully endeauoured him­selfe to eternize the better part of him, and to warrantize himselfe from death, by the excellent and learned works that hee hath composed. As long as learning shall be any wayes honoured, as long as the vigor of the latine tongue, and the grace of the Greeke shall haue credite amongst great men: so long shall this man liue amongst the men of most reputation, whose sufficiency and worth hee hath eyther equalled, or (if his modesty refuse this testimony) hath very neerely i­mitated.

CHAP. XXII.

THou hast therfore bethought thee of this one meanes, whereby thou mightest harm him most; Some com­plaints against our estate, seeme in some sort to bee able to lessen our grie [...]e. for the better a man is, the more oftner is he accustomed to thy assaults, who art displeased with­out election, and dr [...]dfull amidst thy greatest benefites. Was it so great a matter for thee to warrantize this man from affliction, whom thy fauour in some sort seemed to haue sufficiently defenced, and not according to thy vsuall custome to haue light vpon him rashly? but if thou wilt let vs adde to these complaints the gentle nature of thy brother, rauished out of this world in the prime of his youth; hee deseured to haue thee to his brother, and thou vndoubtedly art most worthy to lament such a brother as hee was: all men giue an equall testimony of him, he is bewailed to thy honour, and pray­sed for his own desert, there was nothing in him which thou wouldest not wil­lingly acknowledge. For thine owne part thou wouldest haue shewed thy selfe good to an other brother, who might haue beene lesse good, but thy piety ha­uing found an answerable subiect in this man, hath expressed it selfe more free­ly. Although his meanes were great, yet neuer offended he any man, neither threatned he any man with thee who wert his brother: hee was formed ac­cording to the example of thy modesty, considering what honour it was vnto him to bee so neerely allied vnto thee, and of what importance that was, so likewise knew hee how to manage such a charge. O cruell destinies, e­nemies to all vertue; thy brother was taken out of this world before hee knew his owne felicity; I am not displeased or angry more then I should be, for there is nothing so difficult when a man is extremely vexed, as to finde out wordes that are answerable to his sorrow: yet againe, if this will yeelde vs any remedy wee will lament? Where one thoughts thou vniust and iniurious fortune? why hast thou so sodenly repented thy selfe of thy fauourable dealing? what cruelty was this to breake in amidst brothers, and by so bloudy a rapine to lesson such a company as liued in the greatest peace of the world? why wouldest thou trouble and diminish without cause a house so well furnished with vertuous young men? amongst whom, there was no one that degenerated. By this rec­koning perfect innocency preuaileth nothing, ancient temperance is vnprofita­ble, a soueraigne honour (accompanied with vnspeakeable modesty, and intire, and pure loue towards good letters, and an vpright conscience) shall be vnfruit­full. Polybius mo [...]rneth, and being admonished in one brother, what hee is to feare of the rest, is euen afraid of those very comforts which should lenifle his [Page 694] sorrow. Polybius mourneth and is sorrowfull, although he bee in great fauour with the Emperour: vndoubtedly therefore, O malignant fortune, thou hast made choice of this meanes, to shew that no man, no not Caesar himselfe can warrantize a man from thy fury.

CHAP. XXIII.

W [...]e ought not to grieue and to [...]ment our se [...]ues for that which is firme vnauoidable, & immutable. WEe may accuse the Destinies longer, but we cannot change them, they continue obstinate and in [...]xorable; no man can moue them eyther with vpbraides, or teares, or perswasions: they acquit no man of any thing, they pardon nothing: let vs therefore spare our teares, because they are vnprofitable: for sooner will sorrow lodge vs with him then returne him vnto vs; since shee tormenteth vs, & com­forteth vs not, let vs shake her off in good time, and let vs retire our minds from vaine solaces, and from a bitter desire of sorrow: for except reason restrain our teares, fortune will not. Goe to, turne thy selfe on euery side, and consider all men in this world: there is in euery place an ample and continuall cause of teares; one man is called to his dayly labour, by a laborious pouerty, an o­ther tormented with insatiable ambition, an other feareth those riches he hath wished for, and is sicke of his owne desires, this man is afflicted with care, that man with labour, this man is tyred with a troupe of sutors that besiege his dores, this man is sorry that hee hath children, that man because he hath lost them: we shall sooner want teares then cause of sorrow. Considerest thou not what life it is that nature hath presented vs with, since shee would that teares should be the first presages of our coudition in this world? This is our begin­ning whereunto all the course of our yeares haue relation: thus liue wee, and therefore wee ought to keepe a measure in this thing, which wee ought to doe so often: and then considering how many fatall accidents attend vs, if wholly wee cannot giue ouer our teares; at leastwise we ought to reserue some part of them for time to come. They that wee lament for sor­row not them­selues, nor are sorry for vs; nei­ther take plea­sure in our la­mentatio [...]s. There is nothing wherein wee ought to bee more sparing then this whereof wee haue so frequent vse. Moreouer thou shalt bee very much comforted, if thou thinkest that thy brother, for whom thou afflictest thy selfe in this sort, taketh lesse pleasure in that thou doest then any man thou canst name: hee will not, or hee knoweth not that thou art thus tormented: It is therefore an vnprofitable labour to grieue for him, for if hee feeleth nothing, it is superfluous, and if he feeleth, hee taketh no pleasure therein.

CHAP. XXIIII.

BOldly dare I say, that there is no man in the whole world that is delighted in thy teares. What then? thinkest thou that thy bro­ther is worse affectioned towards thee then any other man? They cond [...]mn not our affection, but they wold not haue vs torm [...]t our s [...]lues. that he should desire thy affliction, that hee should withdraw thee from thy businesses, that is, from thy studies, and from Caesar? this is farre vnlikely; for he hath loued thee as his brother [...] honoured thee as his parent, and respected thee as his superiour; hee would thou shouldest remem­ber him, but not torment thy selfe for him; what auaileth it thee therefore to [Page 695] consume thy selfe with sorrow, which if the dead haue any sense, thy brother desireth it should be finished: for an other brother whose inclination might seeme vncertaine, I should put all these things in doubt, and I should say, thy brother desireth that thou shouldst be tortured with incessant teares; he is vn­worthy of this affection, and if hee would not, then giue ouer thy vnprofitable griefe. Neither should an impious brother be so bewailed, neither would a pi­ous be so lamented. But in this whose piety is so well approued, thou art to resolue thy selfe that nothing can bee more grieuous vnto him, then if this his death be distastfull vnto thee: if it vexe thee any wayes, if it troubleth and spen­deth thine eyes vnworthy of so great misery, with causlesse shewers of com­plaint. But nothing shall withdraw thy piety so much from vnprofitable teares as if thou thinke that thou oughtest to bee an example to thy brethren, The eighth. We ought to bee much aduised of confidence and patience to those that suruiue. where­by they may be instructed to sustaine these iniuries of fortune with constancy. That now art thou to doe which great Captaines doe in desperate dangers or vncertaine, who purposely faine a merry demeasure, and cloake their discon­tents with a pleasant countenance, for feare lest their Souldiers should bee dis­couraged by discouering their gouernors discontent. Shew thou a countenance that is contrary to thy thought, and if thou canst purge thy selfe of all sorrow, at leastwise hide and containe it inwardly, lest it appeare, and endeauour thy selfe that thy brothers may imitate thee, who will thinke that honest whatsoe­ner they see thee doe, and will assume their courage according to the temper of thy conntenance. Thou must both solace and comfort them; but thou canst notwithstand their sorrow, if thou make a wanton of thine owne.

CHAP. XXV.

THis thing likewise may restraine thee from sorrowing extreame­ly, if so bee thou informe thy selfe, The nin [...]h, The more emi­nent our vocati­on is, the lesse occasion haue we to make our neighbours be­lieue that wee [...]aue lost our courage, and that we are vnworthy to act that which is committed to our charge. that none of those things which thou doest can remaine hidden. The common consent of all men hath made thee great, maintaine that. Thou art enui­roned with a troup of men that come to comfort thee, who care­fully consider thy thought, and diligently obserue whether it bee fortified a­gainst griefe besides, not onely if thou know how to vse prosperity discreetely; or if thou canst endure aduersity manfully: they obserue thine eyes. All things are more free vnto those whose passions may be couered. As touching thy self thou canst not hide thy self; fortune hath placed thee in al mens [...]ies. Euery man shall know how thou hast carried thy selfe in this conflict; whether vpon the first assault thou gauest ouer thy weapons, or if thou hast stood confidently in the battell. Heretofore the fauour of the Emperour, and thine owne valour haue made thee rise to great estate, and therefore all bare and vulgar infirmitie ill befitteth thee. But there is nothing so vilde and so base, then for a man to suffer himselfe to bee deuoured in sorrow. In the same griefe it is not lawfull for thee to behaue thy selfe so as thy other brothers. The opinion which is con­ceiued of thy studies and manners, permitteth thee not many things [...] men re­quire many things at thy hands, and expect much, if thou wouldest haue had all things lawfull for thee, thou sholdest not haue drawn al mens eies vpon thee. But now so much art thou to performe as thou hast promised all men, who prayse and applaude the endeuours of thy witte, who, whereas they haue no need of thy fortune, yet haue neede of thy witte. These are the watchmen of [Page 696] thy mind. Thou canst therefore doe nothing that is vnworthy the profession of a perfect and learned man, but if diuers men will repent themselues, because they haue admired thee. Thou must not weepe immoderately, and although thou art not to loose a part of the day in sleepe, nor in seeking thy repose, forsake the bulke of affaires, and goe and trifle it in the Country, not vndertake with a sprightly conceit a long voyage to recreat thy body, being wearied with con­tinuall trauell of thy weighty charge, nor to loose thy selfe in diuers pastimes in the Theaters, neither to spend the howers of the day according as it best liketh thee.

CHAP. XXVI.

[...] Hee that is in authority must not soile himselfe with abiection of mind for a great mans example doth much harm on a sodaine then he can re­medy all his life time. THere are many things which are vnlawfull for thee, which are per­missible in men of base condition, and such as liue in obscurity. A great dignity and prosperity is a great seruitude. It is not lawfull for thee to doe any thing according to thine owne mind. Thou must giue audience to a thousand persons, reade an infinite of pe­titions; thou must bee acco [...]ted by a num [...]erlesse number of sutors, posting from euery part of the world. Thou hadst need of a gouerned mind to dis­patch readily and sodainely the affaires of the greatest Prince in all the word. I say it is not lawfull for thee to weepe, because thou art to heare diuers men that weepe; and to the end that their teares may be profitable vnto them that are in danger to obtaine the mercy of most milde Caesar; thine are to bee dried vp. Yet behold what will comfort thee greatly, and proue a singular remedy for thee: Eloquence spent in vaine and pal­pable flattery. cast thine eyes vpon Caesar, when thou wouldest disburthen thy selfe of sorrowes. Consider what a charge his fauour hath imposed vpon thee, how much industry thou owest him, and then shalt thou vnderstand, that thou art no more to bee humbled by these crosses, then hee (if a man may giue any cre­dite to fables) who beareth the whole world on his shoulders. For this cause diuers things are not lawfull for the Emperour, who may doe all that which he pleaseth. His vigilancy conserueth the houses of all men in particular: his tra­uell giueth them repose, his industry maketh them liue at ease, and in delight. His occupation furnisheth them with time to disport themselues in. Since that time that Caesar dedicated himselfe to the world, and rauished himselfe from himselfe, and as the Planets which incessantly runne their courses, hee cannot rep [...]se, neither dispatch any thing of his owne affaires. So in the like sort, the same necessity is enioyned thee, thou art neither to respect thine owne profite, nor affect thy studies. The eleuenth, Wee must consi­der as well those goods that re­maine with vs, as those at leas [...]wise which we haue least. As long as Caesar is Lord of the world, thou canst not ad­dict thy selfe to pleasure, or griefe, nor to any thing els, thou art wholly Caesars, Adde hereunto that hauing alwayes made the world belieue that thou louest Caesar better then thine owne soule, it is not lawfull for thee as long as he liueth to complaine of thy fortune. Hee being in safety, all they that appertaine vnto thee are in security; thou hast lost nothing, thine eyes must not onely bee dried but bee ioyfull. In him thou hast all thinges, and hee to thee is as much as all. I will tell thee without impeachment of thy prudence and piety, that thou hast little respect of his greatnesse, that as long as thy body is in good health, thou giuest way to any thy sorrow whatsoeuer. But I wil shew thee another remedy which is not so strong as the precedent, yet is it more familiar, if at any time thou retire thy selfe into thy house, then wilt thou haue some cause to suspect [Page 697] thy sorrow, for as long as thou shalt behold Caesars Godhead, sorrow will finde no accesse vnto thee, Caesar will possesse whatsoeuer is in thee, when thou de­partest from him, then as if occasion were giuen, sorrow will finde out thy soli­tude, and will creep by little and little into thy soule that desireth repose. Thou art not therefore to intermit any time of study, The twelfth, Study lenifieth sorrow. then will sciences and good let­ters which thou hast so long and faithfully loued, requite thy endeauour, and auowing thee for their patron and affectionate seruant, will take thee into their safeguard. Then Homer and Virgil (who haue so much obliged all men vnto them, as thou hast made them obliged, hauing giuen order to make thē known to more men, then they themselues haue written verses) shall long time make abode with thee. All the time thou shalt commit and giue them to keepe, shall be assured. Imploy thy selfe then in couching, in writing the deeds of the Em­perour thy Master, to the end that in all ages the Romane people may cele­ [...]ate his memory, for he it is that will furnish thee with matter, and giue thee example to digest and set downe his actions.

CHAP. XXVII.

I Dare not induce and perswade thee so farre according to thy ac­customed elegancy to set downe the fables of AEsope, The thirteenth, If we ha [...] the meanes to exer­cise our minds in high and worthy thoughts, it will be sure & ex­pedient to paci­fie our griefes. a worke as yet vnattempted by our Romane wits: for it is a hard matter for a mind so vehemently deiected as thine is, so quickly to vn­dertake this more pleasing and pleasant studies, yet shalt thou know that thy mind will be fortified, and recouer himselfe, if hee may giue o­uer these grauer studies, and employ himselfe in those that are more delightfull and free: for in the grauer, the austerity of things which hee shall intreat vp­on, will draw the same, although it bee sicke and at debate in it selfe, but in those that shal breede delight, thy spirit shall take no pleasure, but at such time as it shall bee setled and quieted in it selfe. Thou onghtest therefore to exercise thy selfe in matters of importance, and then to temper thy mind with more pleasing studies. This likewise will comfort thee very much, if oftentimes thou debate in this sort with thy selfe. The foureteenth, Wee ought not to lament those that are dead in regard of our selues, for this were to loue our selues, nor for their sakes, for as touching their bodies th [...]y haue no sense, and as [...] touching their soules, if they haue beene ver­tuous, they are in repose. Whether am I sorrowfull in respect of my selfe, or in regarde of him that is deceased? if for the loue of my selfe, it is in vaine that I perswade my selfe, that I am a good brother, and the griefe which beginneth is excusable, because it is honest, and estranged from piety in this, because it hath regard to profite. But there is nothing that worse beseemeth a good man then to haue a will to consider, how much hee hath eyther won or lost by the death of his brother. If I complaine me for the loue of him, I must needes approue it by one of these two succeeding considerations, that is to say, that eyther the dead haue a feeling or no feeling. If they haue no sense, my brother hath escaped all the incommodities of life, and is restored vnto that place wherein hee was before hee was borne, and being voide of all euill, hee neyther feareth nor desireth, nor suffereth any thing. What madnes is this in me, that I neuer giue ouer grieuing for him who shall neuer bee aggrieued? if the dead haue any sence, the soule of my brother being as it were dischar­ged out of a long prison, is now in freedome and full liberty, shee searcheth and beholdeth with content the workes of Nature, shee discouereth them from a high place wherin she sees all humane things, & neerly approcheth the diuine: in search whereof shee was so long time vainely tormented. Why [Page 698] therefore afflict I my selfe with the losse of him who either is blessed, or is no body. To bewaile him that is blessed, it is enuy to lament him that is no more; is madnesse.

CHAP. XXVIII.

OR art thou displeased hereat, because in thy iudgement thy bro­ther is depriued of great goods which followed and attended him? The fifteenth, They are deliue­red from the miseries and misfortunes of this life. When thou shalt bethinke thy selfe that there are many things which hee hath left, consider that there are more thinges which hee feareth not. Anger shall not vexe him, sicknesse shall not aflict him, suspition shall not prouoke him, gnawing and hatefull enuy that is alwayes an enemy to other mens proceedings, shall not attend him, fe [...]e shall not presse him, inconstant fortune that now taketh from one to giue it to another, shall torment him no more: If thou calculate well, thy brother hath gotten more then he hath lost. But hee shall no more enioy his riches, neyther his owne honour, or the countenance hee hath had by thee; he neither shal re­ceiue or doe pleasures any more. Thinkest thou him miserable, because hee hath left these thinges, or happy because hee desireth them no more? Belieue mee he is more blessed that hath no need of fortune, then hee that is much troubled in entertaining her. The vanity of riches. All these goods which delight vs by reason of their faire but fallacious appearance, as money, estates, credite, and other such like which corrupt couetous and ambitious mens minds, are possessed with paine, and beheld with enuy; they oppresse those that are adorned with them, and threaten more then they profite. They are slippery and vncertaine, they are neuer firmely possessed, for although a man were not in doubt of that which is to come, Great fortune, great care. yet so it is that the maintenance of a great prosperity is ac­cōpanied with many cares, if thou wilt giue credit to those who more inwardly examine the truth, all our life is but a punishment. Being cast into this so deep and troubled a sea, tormented with continuall ebbes and floates, that now ray­seth vs vp with sodaine encreases, and straight forsaketh vs with greater losses, and continually tossing vs, wee neuer remaine in a setled place, wee liue in sus­pence and incertainety, who are beaten one against another, and sometimes we are shipwrackt, but alwayes fearefull. Sayling in this so stormy sea, and expo­sed to all tempests, we finde no hauen but in death. Enuy not thy brother ther­fore, he is at rest, now at length hee is free, now at length hee is secure, now at length hee is eternall. The sixteenth, They that we call dead are liuing, and the liuing are dead. He hath left the Emperour and all his race, thy selfe and all his brothers behinde him. Before that fortune turned her fauourable face from him, hee forsooke her euen then when shee stood vnto him, and heaped fauours vpon him with a plentifull hand. But now hee enioyeth an open and freer heauen from an humble low Tabernacle, hee hath attained so conspicu­ous a place, whatsoeuer it be that receiued those blessed soules that are deliue­red out of these earthly bonds into his blessed bosome, that now he freely wan­dreth and beholdeth all the goods of nature with exceeding pleasure. Thou art deceiued, thy brother hath not lost the light, but hath attained a more se­curer. It is a way that we must all walke. Why complaine we of desteny? hee hath not left vs, but gone before vs.

CHAP. XXIX.

BElieue it, there is a great happinesse in dying happy, The seuenteenth, He that dieth in prosperity hath no doubt aduan­tage. nothing is as­sured, no not for the length of one day, onely humane affaires be­ing so obscure and confused, as they bee who will vndertake to re­solue whether thy brothers death had wrought him enuy, The eighteenth, We haue long time enuied those whom death re­demandeth at our hands. or whether it hath procured him good? Besides this, there is an o­ther consideration, which is to comfort thee, for thou oughtest to think that in loosing such a brother, thou hast receiued no iniury, but that thou hast beene greatly fauoured, because that so long time it hath beene in thy power, to enuy and make vse of his piety. Vnreasonable is that man that hath not giuen his be­nefactor that credite to dispose of that hee giueth according to his best liking. and that man is couetous, that in stead of calling that gaine which a man giueth him, complaineth that hee hath lost that which hee hath restored. Vngratefull is hee that saith, that iniury is the end of pleasure. And foolish is he that thin­keth there is no fruit but in things present, that contenteth not himselfe with those things that are past, esteeming those things for certaine goods which ap­peare not any more, because hee ought not to bee afraid that they are lost. Too much scantleth he his wayes, who thinketh that hee enioyeth nothing but those things that hee hath and seeth, and esteemeth them as much as nothing which he hath had, and hath no more, [...]or all pleasures abandon others very sodainely, it is a thing that slippeth away, that passeth, and is taken from vs al­most before it commeth; wee must therefore beflect our thoughts vpon the time that is past, and recall to memorie, and oftentimes ruminate on all that which hath euer giuen vs pleasure. The remembrance of delights and con­tentments is more assured and endureth longer time, then the presence of them: remember this therefore amongst thy greate [...] goods, that thou hast had a good brother: thinke not how long time hee might as yet haue liued with thee, but how long time hee hath remained with thee. Nature gaue him both to thy selfe, The nineteenth, Wee ought not to be grieued to repay that to God which hee hath lent vs, & appertaine to him, it sufficeth he craueth his owne without interest. and the rest of thy brothers, not as a thing proper vnto you, but shee hath lent him you, and when shee thought good shee hath redemanded him, not satisfying thy will herein, but her owne arrest. If a man should bee angrie for paying a debt for which hee allowed no interest, should hee not be thought a most wicked fellow? Nature hath giuen thy brother life, and thy selfe likewise, and afterwards vsing her owne right, she hath redemanded her debt from him, shee thought fitte to challenge. Shee is not in fault (whose condition was very well knowne; but we ought to accuse the couetousnesse of mortall men, who sometimes eyther forget what nature is, and neuer remember themselues of their condition, except it be then, when they are brought in memory thereof. Reioyce therefore that thou hast had so good a brother, The twentieth, It is a thing de­creed that all men must die, & therefore our friend cannot be exempted no more then o­thers. and take in good part the vse thou hast had of him, although it were shorter then thou couldest haue wished it. Thinke that it was most pleasing to thee that thou hadst, and hu­mane that which thou hast lost. It is an vnreasonable matter to bee sorrowfull, because thou hast so small a time enioyed thy brother, and not to be glad that thou hast once enioyed his presence. But hee died saiest thou at such time as I leaft thought of it. Euery one suffereth himselfe to be deceiued by his sleight beliefe, and when wee loue a thing, we will not forget that it is subiect vnto death. But nature hath protested that shee will exempt no man from this ne­cessity, which is imposed vpon all men. Wee see dayly both our acquaintance [Page 700] and strangers carried to their graues, yet thinke wee vpon an other matter, and call it a sodaine accident, which during our whole life time hath beene tolde vs that it should come to passe. This is not therefore the iniquity of the Fates, but the deprauednesse of mans mind, who is displeased because he must depart from that abroad, which was onely lent him for a time.

CHAP. XXX.

An example what we ought to doe. HOw farre more iuster was he, who receiuing tidings of [...]he death of his sonne, vttered a worthy speech correspondent and answe­rable to his worthy mind [...] I knew when I begat him that h [...]e should die. Wonder thou not that such a man begat such a sonne that could die couragiously. The death of his sonne was no nouel­ty to him: The twentie one, We ought not to feare that which must necessarily happen, although it be in diuers sor [...]. For what wonder is this for a man to die, whose whole life is nought else but a iourney vnto death. I knew when I begate him that hee should die: and afterwards hee annexed a thing of a greater note, prudence and constancy; I brought him vp to this end. So are wee all whosoeuer enters into life, is destina­ted to death. Let all of vs therefore content our selues with that which is gi­uen vs, and restore it againe when wee are required. Let our minds be alwayes addressed, and neuer feare that which must needes fall out; nor expect that al­wayes which is vncertaine. Shall I call to remembrance in this place, the great Chiefetaines in warre, their children, and diuers persons honoured by diuers Consulates and triumphes, who are dead by the hands of inexorable Destiny? whole Kingdomes with their Kings, whole peoples and nations haue ended their course. All men, nay more, all things tend vnto their end. Although that in regard of the particular they are different. One is taken away, and dyeth in the midst of his rece, another in the entry, another in his extreame olde age, be­ing now wearied and desirous to depart, is scarsely permitted to die. The times of death are different, yet all of vs tend to the same place. I know not whether it bee more foolish to bee ignorant of the law of mortality, or more impuden­cy to refuse the same. The twenty two, The good bookes that are written either by our selues or others, may com [...]ort vs greatly, as also grauity in [...] yeeres or reputations, and occupationr, which we ought carefully to ob­serue. But I pray thee take some time to ouerlooke these things, which with great trauel of thy mind thou hast worthily celebrated; namely the Poems of Homer and Virgil, which thou hast so readily and cunningly continu­ed in proofe, that although the quantity & composition of the vertue, appeare no more, yet the grace of the same remaineth. For thou hast in such sort tur­ned them from Greeke into Latine, and from Latine into Greeke, that thou hast attained all those perfections that are requisite in him, that translateth from one tongue into an other. There is no one booke in all those writings that furnisheth thee not with a great number of examples of the vnconstancy of mans life, of vncertaine accidents and casualties, that succeed and flow from di­uers courses. Consider with what Maiesty of speech thou hast presented these things, at such time as thou art ashamed to loose thy courage so seen, and to discend so low after thou hast spoken so high. Demeasure not thy selfe like him that of late admired thy writings, and asked how it was possible that so feeble a spirit as thine was could conceiue so great and so solide things; but rather cast thine eyes aside from these afflictions that torment thee, and turne them to­ward so many excellent consolations, in regarding thy brothers so vertuous, thy wife and thy sonne. Fortune hath parted stakes with thee, in taking away thy brother, and leauing thee all the rest in security and safety.

CHAP. XXXI.

DIshonour not thy selfe so much, The twenty thre Aten [...]ght to con [...]id [...]r the goods that re­maine with [...] to oppose against them those that are redemanded from vs. as to giue the whole world occa­sion to belieue that one sorrow hath more power ouer thee, then these so many solaces. Behold thy brothers, thy wife, and thy sonne wounded with the same sorrow that thou art, with­out hauing any meanes to helpe thee, nay contrary thou s [...]st, that they expect thou shouldest succour them. And therefore the lesse spiri [...] and knowledge they haue, the more needfull is it, that thou resist this euill that concerneth you all. And it is in some sort a kind of comfort to demand a mans sorrow amongst many, and because many partake with thee in thine, there should be very little remainder for thy selfe. I will not cease to represent vnto thee the Emperour Cl [...]dius, as long as hee shall gouerne the world, and make it knowne that the Empire is farre better maintained by benefites then by armes, thou needest not feare that thou shouldst feele any crosse: thou hast sufficient security, and a consolation in him alone. Raise and rowse thy selfe, and as often as teares beginne to drie thine eyes, fixe them so often vpon Caesar, and by beholding so great and [...]o excellent a power, thine eyes shall bee dried; his brightnesse will so rauish them that they cannot admire any other thing but himselfe, and will keepe them fixed vpon himselfe. Hee it is whome thou beholdest day and night, and from whom thy heart is neuer estranged, & whose admiration must deuoure thee? This is hee that can assist thee against fortune [...] and I doubt not [...]ince hee is a Prince so courteous, and so well affected towards all his seruants, but that hee hath already applyed diuers remedies to thy wounds, and ministred diuers medicines to thy paines, for feare they should en­crease. And what? although hee had done none of all these, doth not the one­ly presence and remembrance of him comfort & animate thee greatly? Vouch­safe all you gods and goddesses to giue him a long and happy life: let him ex­ceede Augustus bo [...]h in actions and yeeres, and so long as hee shall liue in this world, let him bee exempted from beholding the death of any of his. Let his dominion of long continuance be adotned with all iustice. Let the Emperour leaue his sonne for their Lord, and receiue him as an associate to his Father, be­fore they accept him as a successor. Let the time runne slowly, and only du­ring the life of our childrens children, wherein his subiects shall ranke him a­mongst the number of the gods.

CHAP. XXXII.

TOuch him nor O Fortune, Seneca [...] [...] and secret insi­nuatio [...]s. neyther imploy thy forces against him, but in as much as thou art profitable, suffer him to heale man­kind too long trauelled with sicknesse and misery, permit him to restore and reestablish all that which the fury of his Predecessor hath shaken. Let this starre euer shine that hath enlightned the world that was plunged in obscurity, and deuoured in darkenesse. Let him pa­cifie Almany, giue entry vnto England, triumph both for his owne, and his Fa­thers victories. His clemency the chiefe of all his vertues, promiseth mee that I shall bee one of the beholders; for hee hath not so humbled me, but he may exalt me, what say I humbled? hee hath not onely relieued, but hee hath [Page 702] sustained me at such time as fortune had deiected me, and when as I was head­long cast downe to the ground, he hath courteously and mercifully raised me by his diuine hand. Hee interceded to the Senate in my behalfe, and hath not onely giuen mee life, but required it likewise; let him determine in what sort hee would haue my cause estimated, eyther his iusti [...]e shall finde it good, or his clemency shall make it whatsoeuer befall me, be it that hee knoweth, or that hee would that I should bee innocent, it shall be [...] alwayes a bene [...]ite of his towards me; Meanewhile the greatest comfort that I haue in my mise­ries, is to see his mercy spred ouer all the world, which when it hath digged out many after the ruine of so many yeeres, and out of that very angle wherein I am buried, and brought them to light, I feare not, nay more I trust, that hee will not leaue me alone desolate. But hee best knoweth the time wherein hee ought to comfort and relieue euery man, for mine owne part, I will endeuor to the vttermost, that hee may not be ashamed to succour mee. How happie is thy clemency O Caesar which hath caused those that are banished to liue in greater assurance vnder thy gouernment, then Princes did vnder Caligula? The banished feare not, they expect not howerly for a Hangman to come and dis­patch them, neither are they abashed when they see the shippes approach, as by thy fauor there is some measure in their aduersity, so hope they for a more prosperous condition, and they content themselues in some sort in the exile, be­cause it so pleaseth thee. Thou must know that the flushings of thy lightning are not to bee feared, but darted of set purpose, when those that are attainted therewith reuerence it.

CHAP. XXXIII.

To comfort with more effect hee induce [...]h Caesar to perswade Po­lybius. THis price therefore, who is the publike solace of all men, hath or else I am deceiued already recreated thy mind, and hath apply­ed greater remedies to this thy so great wound: Hee hath al­ready confirmed thee euery wayes, and with an exquisite me­mory hath related vnto thee all the examples which are proper to enduce thee to moderate thy griefe, and hy his ordinary [...]loquence hath dis­couered vnto thee all the precepts of Philosophie. A man therfore cannot find out any who is more fitting to speake vnto thee then hee is. His wordes will be of greater weight then mine, and shall be so much reuer [...]nced as so many Ora­cles, which hy thy diuine authority shall crush all the forces of thy sorrowes. The twenty four. The examples of greater men that haue been af [...]i­cted should con­firme our reso­lution. Suppose therefore thar he speaketh vnto thee after this manner. Fortune hath not onely made choise of thee to examplifie her cr [...]elty vpon. There neither is nor was any house in this whole world without some lament. I will ouer­slip common examples [...] which although they are lesse, yet are they wonder­full. I wil reduce thee to our Annals and publik [...] Chronicles. Seest thou al these images, which haue filled Caesars imperiall hate [...] there is not one of them that is not touched with some calamity of his parents or friends, euery one of these men who by their vertue shall astonish the ages to come [...] haue been aggrieued at the death of those that touched them neere, or haue been wi [...]h great sorrow lamented by their friends after their death. What neede I recount vnto thee Scipio of Africa, who during the time of his banishme [...]t was resolued of his brothers death. This brother that had deliuered his brother out of prison, could not warrant him from death. All men saw how impatiently Scipio suf­fered [Page 703] the iniury that was done vnto his brother whom he loued so much: for the same day that hee deliuered his brother from the hands of the Sergeant: hee presented himselfe as a priuate man before the Tribune of the people, to obtaine fauour. Meanewhile he endured the death of his brother, with no lesse courage then he had shewed in preseruing his life. Shall I reckon vp vnto thee AEmitianus Scipio; who almost at one time saw his fathers triumph, and the ob­sequies of his two brethren? yet notwithstanding although he were very yong, and but as yet an Infaut, he endured this sodaine ruine of his family as constant­ly falling vnder the triumph of his father; as such a personage as hee should do, who was borne to that end, that Rome should not be without a Scipio, nor Car­thage without ruine.

[...]HAP. XXXIIII.

SHall I tell thee of the amity of the two Luculli that was dissolued by death? Other examples [...] Shall I reckon vnto thee the Pompeis whome cruell fortune permitted not to perish vnder one ruine? Sextus Pompèy ouerliued his sister, by whose decease the firme bonds of the Ro­mane Empire, and the peace thereof were broken. He ouerliued his brother likewise, whom fortune had raised to this end, that his ouerthrow might not bee lesse then the ruine of his father; yet after this fall of his, hee proued both sufficient to disgest this sorrow, and to maintaine a warre. In­finite are the examples on euery side of brethren that haue died one after ano­ther, and I say on the contrary part, that scarsely shalt thou finde two brothers that haue liued so long as them both. But I will content my selfe with the ex­ample of those of our house: supposing that no man will bee so deuoid of rea­son and judgement, who vnderstanding that fortune hath taken pleasure to make Emperours weepe, will complaine that she hath driuen others to sorrow. Augustus lost his deerest sister Octauia, neither did Nature take from him the necessity of mourning, to whom shee had destinated heauen [...] contrariwise, this Prince afflicted with all sorts of death of those that touched him neerest lost besides her his sisters sonne, who should haue beene his heire. And left I should enter into a particular account of his sorrowes, hee lost his sonne in lawes, his children, his Nephewes, and no man amongst all mor [...]all men, had more fee­ling that hee was a man then hee did, whilest hee liued amongst men; yet not­withstanding his heart, the most peaceable that a man might imagine, disgested so many bitter griefes, and so made himselfe victorious not onely ouer forrain nations, but also of his passions. Caius Caesar the Nephew of mine vncle by the mothers side, euen vpon the entrance of his youthly yeeres, lost his brother Lucius most deare vnto him, a Prince as yong as himselfe, during the prepa­ration of the Parthian warre, and receiued a greater wound in mind then that was which afterwards offenced his body, yet endured he both the one and the other, both piously and stoutely. The Emperour mine vncle by the fathers side, saw his yonger brother, and my father die in his armes, at such time as hee was ready to enter the heart of Almayne, and hee subdued the most sauage na­tions of the world, and made them subiect to the Romane Empire; yet kept hee a measure in his sorrow, and gaue order that others should containe them­selues, reducing the Army not onely aggrieued but desolate, and astonished, and who generally demanded the body of their generall Drusus to the Romane [Page 704] custome and manner in mourning, iudging this that hee was obliged not one­ly to obserue the rules of military profession, but a measure in bewailing the dead. He could not represse other mens teares, except first of all hee had re­strained his owne.

CHAP. XXXV.

See Plutarch in this mans life and behold a true patterne of inconstant for­tune. MArke Anthony my Grandfather inferior to none but him, by whome hee was ouercome, establishing the Romane Estate, and being one of the Triumuirate, raised aboue all men, and (except his two companions) seeing all things vnder his feet, heard news that his brother was slaine. O insolent Fortune, what pleasure ta­kest thou in procuring mens miseries. At that time when Marke Anthony had the power of life and death amongst the Romane Citizens, his owne bro­ther was commanded to death; yet endured hee this so hatefull a wound with the same magnanimity of mind, wherewith he had endured all other aduersi­ties, and his mourning was of this nature, that hee solemnized his brothers funerals, with the bloudy massacre of twenty Legions. But to lay apart all o­ther examples, and to the end that I may suppresse in my selfe other mens losses, Fortune hath assailed me twice in the death of my brothers, and I haue twice found this in my selfe, that I might bee hurt but not confounded: I lost my brother Germanicus, whom how entirely I loued, hee may perfectly vnderstand, who thinketh how much pious brothers loue their brothers; yet so gouerned I my affection, that I neither omitted any thing that might bee required at a good brothers hand, neither did ought that might be reprehen­ded in a Prince. Thinke therefore that the parent of the common-weale re­lateth these examples vnto thee, and sheweth thee how nothing is sacred or vnattainted by Fortune, who out of these houses durst lead our funerals from whence shee was to receiue her goods. The twenty fiue, If death spareth not the greater, why should she spare the small. Let no man therefore wonder, if For­tune behaueth her selfe cruelly or vniustly: for can shee acknowledge any e­quity towards priuate houses, or any modesty, whose implacable cruelty hath vsurped vpon the gods? Let vs exclaime against her not onely in priuate but in publike, yet will shee not bee changed, her eares are deafened against all prayers and complaints. This was Fortune in humane affaires, and this will shee be; there is nothing that shee dare not attempt, nothing that shee leaueth vntouched: shee will forcibly enter thorough all things, and accor­ding to her accustomed manner, without making any difficulty to beare the dead into those houses, whereinto men enter by Temples, and to hang those dores with blacke, which before times were adorned with lawrell.

CHAP. XXXVI.

The twenty sixth If the great ones of this world beare their losses patiently, the lesser should fol­low their exam­ple. THis one thing ler vs obtaine at her hands by vowes and publike prayers, except as yet shee hath not resolued to confound all humane race.) That if with a fauourable aspect shee continue as yet, behold the Romane name, that shee will be pleased to re­serue vnto herselfe and to all men, this Prince who was raised to reestablish the decaying world: let her learne clemency of him, and by the mile­dest [Page 705] Prince of all others be instructed what mercy is. So then thou oughtest to considet all those of whome before time I haue made mention, either already receiued into heauen, or very neerely approch the same, and patiently endure fortune, who stretcheth her hand to thee also, wherewith she attempteth those likewise by name, by whom wee are accustomed to sweare. It behooueth thee to follow their constancy, and to sustain & surmount misfortunes, and as much as may bee lawfull for a man to follow the steppes of the gods. Although that in other things there is a great difference betwixt men, by reason, that some are more highly raised then others; yet is vertue planted in the midst o [...] all men and disdaineth not any man, prouided that he thinke himselfe worthy of her. Be carefull to follow those who hauing any occasion to be displeased, because they are cloased in, and visited so neerely, notwithstanding haue thought that fortune offered them no outrage in equalling them with other men, but that it was the law of mortality, and thus were they neither vexed nor grieued, nei­ther haue they shewed any faint and effeminate hearts in such like accidents: for not to feele a mans euils is the part of a beast, and not to endure them, is not the part of a man, yet can I not (after I haue ouerrunne all the Caesars from whom Fortune hath taken their brothers & sisters) ouerslippe this man whom wee ate to draw out of the number of the rest) whom Nature hath produced and brought to light, to the generall disgrace and destruction of all mankind, by whom the Common weale was vtterly ouerthrowne, and reduced againe by the clemency of our mercifull Prince. This Caligula that neither knew to grieue or reioyce accordiug as it beseemed his dignity, when his sister Drusilla was dead, Twenty seuenth, The inconstant fury of Caligula in the death of his sister, ought to teach wise men how to temper and go­uerne their sor­rowes, except they would haue their minds re­p [...]ted vnbride­led. retired himselfe out of the sight and conuersati­on of all his Citizens, neither was hee present at his sisters obsequies, neither honoured hee her according to her dignitie, but retired himselfe into his Albarium? yet relieued hee the sorrow of these so haplesse funerals, by hea­ring pleas, and other such like occupations. What shame was this for the Romane Empire? The sport of a Romane Prince that bewailed his sister, was to solace himselfe at dice. The same Caius with furious inconstancy, some­times suffering his beard and haire to grow long, sometimes coursing along al the coasts of Italy and Sicily, not following the ordinary wayes, and neuer cer­tainely assured whether hee would haue his sister bewailed or deified: for at the same time when hee reared Temples and honours to her, hee punished them by most cruell torments, who sufficiently bewayled not her death: for no lesse intemperate shewed hee himselfe in sustaining the shocke of these affli­ctions. as he was immeasurably proud in his prosperities, for hee swelled a­boue humane measure. Farre bee this example from euery Romane Citi­zen, eyther to attenuate his sorrow by vntimely sports, or prouoke them in soyling himselfe with odious and base vncleannesse, or to delight in other mens euils, and not in humane solace. Yet see thou that thou change nothing of thy accustomed carriage, because thou hast resolued to loue those studies, which most fitly extoll a man to felicity, and most easily lessen his calamity, and they are those that are the greatest ornaments and solaces of mankind.

CHAP. XXXVII.

Twenty eighth. A speciall conso­lation to Poly­bius, declaring that v [...]rtuous studi [...]s n [...]des the grea [...]est sor­row [...]s. NOw therefore drowne thy selfe more deepely in thy studies: now enuiron them about thee as the fortresses and bulwarkes of thy mind, neither let sorrow find any entrance in any part of thee: Publish likewise thy brothers memory in some one monu­ment of thy writings, for this is the onely worke amidst all hu­mane offices, which no tempests may hurt, no age consume: the rest that consist in gathering and laying stones in marble monuments, or earthly tombes that are raysed to a great height, will not continue long, for they them selues will bee consumed. The monuments of the mind are immortall; be­stow these on thy brother, enshrine him in these. Thou shalt alwayes eter­nize him better by thy lasting wit, then by bewailing him with fruitlesse sor­row. As touching that which concerneth fortune, altho [...]gh that for the present a man may not plead her cause before thee (for all that which she hath giuen vs are hate [...]ull vnto vs for this very cause, that she hath taken somwhat from vs) yet then will wee speake of it when time hath made thee a more e­quall iudge in her hehalfe, for then maiest thou reenter into fauour with her: for shee hath prouided many things whereby shee may amend this iniurie, for many things will shee now giue, whereby she may redeeme the same: to conclude thou receiuedst that at her hands which shee hath taken from thee, Vse not thy wit therefore against thy selfe, Against those that condemne sorrow, and what m [...]asure wee ought to obserue th [...]ein, neither accompany thou thy sor­row. Well I wot that thine eloquence can approue those things to bee great, which are but small. Againe, it can lessen great things, and bury them in ob­scurity, but let her reserue her forces to some other purpose, and now let her employ them wholly in comforting thee. But beware that this thing likewis [...] bee not vnprofitable for thee; for nature exacteth somewhat at our hands, an [...] vanity striueth to shorten it: yet neuer will I entreat thee to giue ouer sorrow wholly. I know there are some men more obstinate and inflexible then prudent and couragious, who maintaine that a Wiseman should not b [...]e touched with sorrow. But these men seeme to haue neuer tasted of such like disasters, otherwise Fortune had driuen their proud wisdom from them, and had compelled th [...]m thogh against their wils to confesse the truth. Reason hath don enough, if she restraine the excesse of sorrow, but to haue it wholly rooted out, no man ought either to hope or desire it. Let him rather obserue this measure, it neither falleth into impietie or folly, and containe vs in that habite which becommeth a quiet and no disturbed mind. Let our teares flow, let them bee stayed: let our sighes be drawne from the bot­tome of our hearts; yet let them haue an end. So gouerne thy mind that thou mayest approue thy selfe to Wise-men, and to thy brothers. La­bour to deserue that thou mayest oft times remember thy brother, to the end thou mayest magnifie him in thy wordes, and that by a continuall thought and remembrance thou mayest represent him vnto thee. Where­unto thou mayest finally attaine, if thou make his memory pleasant vn­to thee, and not lamentable. For it is naturall for the mind to flie alwayes from that whereto she returneth with sorrow. Thinke vpon his modestie, thinke thou of his readinesse in his businesse, his diligence in executing them, his faithfulnesse in his promises. Let other men know, and do thou thy selfe remember all his deedes and words. Consider what he hath beene [Page] and what can bee hoped that hee shall bee: For what cannot a man promise for such a brother. This Discourse haue I addressed vnto thee in the be [...]t sort I may, hauing my spirite almost spent and dulled with sorrow, which if it bee scarce answerable to thy expectation, or seeme to bee too weake to medicine thy sorrow, bethinke thy selfe how hard­ly Latine wordes flow from him, whose eares are tired with the rude and vnpolished lan­guage of the Barbarians.

The End of the Booke of Comfort.

OF CONSOLATION, WRITTEN BY LVCIVS ANNAEVS SENECA TO MARCIA.

The Argument of IVSTVS LIPSIVS.

MARCIA agracious and rich Matron, as it appeareth the daughter of AVLVS CREMVTIVS CORDVS, a man famous both for his studies and writings, had a sonne who died in his full yeeres, for hee was a husband, a father, and a Priest, and already three yeeres were past as appeareth in the end of the first Chapter, since hee died. I therefore ga­ther that this booke was published about the beginning of CLAVDIANVS time, and not before. For it is scarse probable that this METELLVS (for such was his name) was raised to honour in TIBERIVS time. Vnder [...]ATVS t [...]erefore, who out of some other acts of TIBERIVS, and namely permitted [...] CRE [...]VTIVS writings to be read: which likewise is touched in the first Chapter and therefore this c [...]nsolation could not be published before, especially the griefe being [...], and after three yeeres space. Nay to him that well considereth the same, [...] may bee sup­posed to bee written vnder CLAVDIVS, and after his exile [...] It matters not much. Touching the Booke, it is one of his best, although it bee not voide of feminine flat­tery. There are two partes thereof. In the former he prayseth her, and both by his own and other mens examples comforteth her vntil the [...] Chapter; in the latter hee descendeth to reasons, and first hee alleadgeth the common [...]ason that sorrow pro­fiteth nothing. Then that is vnnaturall, and rather is grounded on tendernesse, and in­consideration, because wee foresee not that th [...]se things which may bee done, are fu­turely to succeede. And againe, he produceth the examples of men and women. Then passeth hee ouer to the estate and condition of those that are borne, to whome death is annexed, vntill the nineteenth Chapter. Then offereth hee this Dilemma: That neither the mother nor hee are [...] Of the mother, in short, shee is gra­cious, and onely vexed by opinion. Of the sonne diuersly, hee is in quiet: and deliuery both from casualties and vices. What if hee had beene inclined to those in so corrupt a City? that hee was therefore taken away in good time, and at last the Fa­ther [Page 709] CREMATIVS is in person prouided, comforting and animating his daughter, and inciting her with a constant speech to regard and behold coelestiall and diuine things.

CHAP. I.

EXcept I knew Marcia that thou wert so farre e­stranged from womannish infirmity of minde, Seneca in this place intending to comfort Mar­cia in the death of her sonne, pro­poseth two things in this Preface. The one the greatnesse of her courage in the death of her father. The other the good sh [...]e did vnto the Romans by producing his [...]stories, which testifie that shee patiently endu­red such a losse. as from other vices, and that euery man obserueth thy manners, as it were some ancient patterne of vertue. I durst not vndertake to encounter with thy sorrow, whereunto men are too willingly inclined & subiect: neither had I conceiued any hope in a time so vnreasonable, before a Iudge so partiall, in a crime so hatefull, that I could ef­fect this, that thou shouldest complaine of thy fortune: but the approued constancy of thy mind and thy vertue confirmed by many trials, haue animated me, and made mee confident. It is not vnknowne in what sort thou diddest behaue thy selfe in the person of thy Father, whom thou louedst no lesse then thou diddest thy children, except in this that thou diddest not desire that hee should not ouer­liue thee, yet know I not whether thou diddest wish it mee or no. For a great piety permitteth it selfe some thing, which are not answerable to good and laudable manners of life. Thou hinderest as many as lay in thy power the death of Aulus Crenutius Cordus thy father. But when hee had discouered vnto thee, that hee had but one meanes to escape from seruitude, wherein hee was detained by the vassals of Seianus, thou fauouredst not his counsels, but suffe­redst thy selfe to bee ouercome, and secretly powredst forth teares, thou de­uouredst thy sorrow, yet couldest not conceale it with a merry countenance: and this in the age wherein it was great piety to doe nothing impiously. But as soone as the reuolution of time presented thee any occasion, thou brough­test him to light for the generall good of all men) the testimonies of thy fa­thers wisdome, who was put to death, and exemptedst him from the graue by publishing and communicating those his bookes vnto the world, which that worthy man had written with his owne bloud. Worthily hast thou deserued of the Romane studies, for the greater part of them was consumed by fire; worthily of posterity, to whom the incorrupted truth of former occurrents shal bee testified to the glory of that great man thy father, who wrote them; wor­thily at his hands, whose memory shall flourish and liue as long as men are de­sirous to know the Roman affaires, as long as there shall bee any who will re­flect & read th [...] acts of antiquity, as long as there is any that would know what a braue Romane, who seeing the yoake of Seianus vpon his necke, and his feete treading on the heades of euery man, hath brauely discharged himselfe of that seruitude, and shewed that both in vnderstanding, soule, and hand hee was a free man. Truely the common weale had suffered a great losse, if thou haddest not brought this worthy person to light, who was buried in obliuion, to let vs see two worthy parts in him, to witte, his [...]loquence and liberty: hee is read, hee flourisheth, hee is entertained in mens hands and hearts, he feareth no in­iury of time. But the hainous crimes of those bloudy butchers, who deserue [Page 712] memorie for nothing but their murthers, He excuseth the vehemencie, hee is resolued to vse considering the vigor of Mar [...] ­as minde, the time past since her afflictions, and the con­tempt of those cons [...]lations that haue beene mi­nistred vnto her. shall bee obscured. This greatnesse of thy minde, for bad me to looke backe vnto thy Sexe, for bad me to behold thy countenance, which the continuall sorrowes of so many yeares as it once clou­ded, it so now couereth it: But consider that I intend not to surprise thee, nei­ther thinke thou that I will s [...]eale away thy passions. I haue refreshed the me­morie of thine ancient euils: And wilt thou know that this wound also is curea­ble? I haue shewed thee the cicatrice of as great a wound. Let other men ther­fore dally and flatter with thy sorrowes, I am resolued to combat with thy griefe, and if thou wilt heare a truth, I will drie vp the current of those teares that haue wearied and wasted thine eyes, which rather now flow by custome then any desire or cause, which may bee done if thou fauour those remedies which I present thee: if not, I will doe it against thy will, although thou retai­nest and entertainest thy griefe, which thou hast reserued to continue in thy Sonnes place. But what end shall there be? All things are attempted in vaine. Thy friends are wearied with talking with thee, thy Allies and other great personages know no more what to speake vnto thee, thy deaff-eares entertain no solace, although a man relate vnto thee that which thou hast learned, and the goodly meanes and demeasnesse that thy father left thee. These are words that stand thee in no vse, but for the time they are a speaking. The naturall re­medie of time likewise, which appeaseth the greatest sorrowes, hath lost his power in thee alone. Three yeares are already past, and yet the vehemence of this thy passion is no wayes moderated, thy sorrow reneweth and fortifieth it selfe daily by course of time it hath gotten possession; yea, and is growne to that height, that thou reputest it a shamefull thing to dismisse it and giue it ouer. Euen as all vices get possession and preheminence in the heart, except they be oppressed, euen then when they appeare. So likewise these perplexi­ties and miseries, enraged against them selues, doe feede them selues at last by their owne acerbitie [...] and sorrow becommeth a depraued pleasure of the vn­happie minde. I could haue wished therefore that I could haue ministred a medicine to this sorrow in the beginning, a sleight remedie had beene sufficient to extinguish the furie of this passion vpon the first approach. Where now since the griefes are inueterate, the remedies ought to be more vehement. For those wounds are easily cured which are but newly inflicted; then are they [...]ea­red, s [...]arched, and indure the touching; yea, they are hardly healed when they are putrified, and that time hath brought them to an inue [...]erate vlcer. I can not now to please thee, handle thy rebellious wound gently, I must presse out the poison, and clense it with sharpe medicines.

CHAP. II.

Entring into the matter, he [...]gin­neth to [...]o [...]fort her by [...] Fi [...]l of Octauia which made her s [...]lf [...] [...], [...]. I Know that all those men, who will admonish any man, beginne with precepts and end in examples; yet must I alter this course. For some are to be handled in one sort, some other in an other. Some there are that will be perswaded by reason, to some wee must oppose the names and authoritie of great persons to stay their mindes, that are astonished at the lustre of things. I will set before thine eyes two famous examples of thy Sexe and of our time; Of one woman that gaue her selfe ouer to griefe, of an other that hauing had no lesse losse but farre greater damage, yet suffered not her sorrow to raigne long time ouer her, but [Page 711] sudainely setled and pacified her minde. Octauia and [...]iuia, the one the sister, the other the wife of Augustus. Lost each of them a Sonne, hauing both of them hope that one day they should haue beene Emperours. Octauias Sonne was called Marcellus, on whom his Vnckle and his wiues father began to build them selues, in committing to his hands the affaires of the Empire, a yong man of sharpe vnderstanding, of a great minde, modest and meruailously continent, and considering his yeares and fortunes, very laborious, enemie of delights, and readie to vndergoe all that which his vnckle would lay vpon him, or (if I may so speake it) build on his backe: Neither failed hee in his choice, for this yong man was sufficiently enabled to vndertake all sortes of burthens. His mo­ther seeing him dead, ceased not all her life time to mourne and weepe, neither would shee admit any consolation, nor likewise suffer any by any meanes to dis­swade her from her pensiue thoughts. But intending this one thing, and whol­ly fixing her minde thereupon, such was shee all her life time as shee was at his funerall. I say not that shee durst not rise, but that shee refused to bee raised, iudging it no lesse then a second orbitie to surcease her weeping. Shee would haue no Image of her deerest Sonne, neither would shee listen to any that made mention of him, shee hated all mothers, and was most mad against Liuia, be­cause that felicitie that was promised her Sonne, seemed to bee translated to hers. All her pleasure was to liue in darknesse and solitude, shee no wayes thought on her brother, reiecting those Verses that were composed, and those honours which famous men had inuented, in memorie of Marcellus. In briefe, shee shut vp her eares from all comfort, shee retired her selfe from all solemne Offices, and hating that too much resplendent fortune of her brothers great­nesse, shee hid her selfe, and if I may so speake it, buried her selfe aliue. Al­though her owne children, and their childrens children came flocking about her, yet would shee not giue ouer her mourning robe, offering out-rage in this respect to all those that were her Allies, because shee thought her selfe alone when they remained in safetie.

CHAP. III.

LIVIA had lost her sonne Drusus, who should haue beene Emper­our, and was at that time a great Captaine. [...]. Liuia contra­riwise disgesteth the death of her sonne wisely and patiently wherby she was esteemed Hee had already en­tered very farre into Germanie, and fixed his Ensignes there, where it was scarcely knowne that there were any Romanes. In this expedition hee died a Conquerour, and during his sicknesse his very enemies gaue him great honour, not daring to promise themselues that good which was expedient for them: To this death which hee endured for the Common-weale, there was ioyned a multitude of Romane Citizens, of peoples that were Allies, and of all Italy (who had conducted his body thorow the Cities, and Prouinces which were peopled by the Romans, who had made great moane for him) as farre as Rome, as if Drusus had entred the same in tri­umph. His mother, that for a long way had followed his body, and being ex­treamely grieued, by reason that as many Piles as shee saw flaming thorow out all Italy, so many times seemed shee to behold her dead Sonne, had not the meanes to enioy his last kisses, nor heare his sweete and latest words, yet incon­tinently when the obsequies were performed, and that shee had closed him in his Tombe; shee buried her sorrowe with him, without aggrieuing her selfe [Page 712] more then either her grauity, or Augustus greatnesse, or the equity of the cause required. Meane while shee ceased not to publish her sonnes prayses in euerie place, to represent him vnto her selfe both priuately and publikly; to speake most willingly of him, and take pleasure in those that recounted his praises, whē as no man could make mention of any other, but incontinently the remem­brance of Drusus made her perceiue: Choose therefore which of these exam­ples thou thinkest most probable; if thou wilt follow the first, thou cuttest thy selfe off from the number of the liuing, thou wilt teach both thine owne and other mens children, and wanting him, thou wilt make all mothers afraid that meete with thee. Thou shalt disclaime thine honest and lawfull pleasures, as ill beseeming thy condition, and shall require nought else but to bee sequestred from company: in briefe, thou shalt loath thine owne life, because it endeth not as quickly as thou desirest. Besides, which is a thing estran [...]ed, and vnwor­thy thy mind, which hath a far contrary reputation, thou wilt make it known that thou wilt not liue, and that thou canst not die. But if thou fashion thy selfe according to the example of this great woman, which is more milde and moderate, thou shalt not vaile bonnet vnder thy sorrow, neither macerate thy self in afflicting thy self so much: for what folly is this (poor woman as thou art) to drowne thy selfe in sorrow, and to encrease thy miseries? maintaine in this accident the vertue, and moderation which thou hast approued in all the rest of thy former life; for if there bee any conueniency in sorrow, when thou hast alwayes the name of this young man (most worthy of rest) in thy heart and in thy mouth, thou thy selfe shalt place him in a happy abode; if hee appeare before thee merry and ioyfull as he did during his li [...]e.

CHAP. IIII.

The th [...]d, So [...]ow shou [...]d not be [...]xt [...]eame, or perpetuall. NEither will I perswade thee by more forcible pr [...]cepts, command thee to endure humane accidents with a mind more then hu­mane, that vpon the very day of the funerall thou shouldest dry vp the teares of a mother. I will doe thee iustice. The question is betweene vs, whether thy griefe ought to be great or perpetu­all: I assure my selfe [...] that the example of Liuia, whom thou hast inwardly both knowne and honoured will please thee more then the other. Shee cals thee to counsaile her. Shee in the first fauour (whome as miseries are most impatient and furious) gaue an eare to the counsels and comforts of the Philosopher, A­reus that attended her husband; and confessed that it yeeldeth her much more comfort then the Romane people, whom shee would not disgest by her sor­row, more then Augustus who was troubled, who had lost one of the staies of his Empire (nor was to bee d [...]iected by the sorrow of any of his) more then Ti­berius his son, who effected this then, that in that biter & displeasing funerals to all nations, A pro [...]fe h [...]re [...]f by a [...] wh [...]ch Areus [...] to [...]a [...] [...]io, Seneca p [...]odu [...]e [...]h [...]re to the end hee may perswade Ma [...]cia more pow [...]lly. found nothing missing but the number of one. This as I thinke, was the induction of that discourse which hee vsed in regarde of this woman, that was so setled in her opinions. Hitherto liued, and as neerely as I could con [...]eiue, in as much as I was an inward Counsellor to Augustus thy husband, (who not onely knew thy publike sayings and actions, but also the secret mo­tions of thy mind, thou hast carefully endured that no man should finde any thing that might giue him cause of exception: Neither hast thou obserued this onely in affaires of importance, but in the smallest things thou hast taken care, [Page 713] lest thou shouldest doe any thing that might bee afraide of report, which free­ly consumeth the actions of the greatest in this world. Neither thinke I that there is any thing that is more worthy those that are in high place, then to pardon many things, and to require pardon of nothing. Thou are therefore to obserue in this thing thine accustomed manner, not to limit any thing what­soeuer, that thou wouldest haue done lesse or otherwise.

CHAP. V.

AFter this, I desire and entreat thee, that thou show not thy selfe froward and intractable to thy friendes. The [...]ourth. Wee must ac­custome our selu [...]s in time to yeeld a w [...]ll [...]g care, to those that speake of them [...] whose de­cease we h [...]ue bewa [...]ed in bit­te [...] [...]eares. For thou art not to bee ignorant, that all these know not how to behaue themselues, whether they shall speake any thing before thee of Drusus, or no­thing, lest eyther the obliuion of so noble a young man should doe him iniurie, or his memory and mention wrong thee, when wee are drawn apart, and are assembled together; wee magnifie his deedes and speeches as much as in vs lieth, and hee deserueth, but in thy presence wee make no menti­on whatsoeuer: you are therefore depriued of a great pleasure, which is the prayses of thy sonne. When I assure my selfe thou wouldest eternize, if thou hadst the meanes, although it cost thee thy life. Suffer therefore, nay more, command men to speake of him, and yeelde thine care to the name and memo­ry of thy sonne, thinke it no irkesome thing (as other men doe) who in such ca­ses interprete all thinges to the worst that is spoken to them; if a man propose thee some consolations; thou inclinest now to the other side, and forgetting all the goods thou hast receiued, thou regardest the worser face of fortune, where­with shee most affrighted thee. In stead of casting thine eyes on the conuersati­on of thy sonne, vpon his pleasant and gracious entertainment, vpon his chil­dish and wanton flatteries, vpon the aduancement of his studies, thou securest to bee enchaned to this last apparance of life, and as if it were not monstrous en­ough of it selfe, thou heapest vp together whatsoeuer may bee possible. Long not I beseech thee after so vnmeasurable a glory, which may make thee being miserable, amongst miserable.

CHAP. VI.

THinke likewise that it is an act of a generous mind to carry a great appearance in prosperity, The fifth [...] In aduersity one­ly w [...]e are to make proo [...]e of the constancy of our mind. when as life exhausteth her course with a full fayle. For a peaceable sea and a fauourable wind approue not the sufficiency of a Pilot. There must some storme encoun­ter vs that may approue the mind. And therefore discourage not thy selfe, but contrariwise stand firme in thy place, and endure euery burthen that is laide vpon thee, being onely affrighted with the first assault: there is nothing that so much confoundeth fortune, as a resolute mind. After this hee shewed her her sonne in safety, hee shewed her her Nephewes, to recompence the losse of her sonne. At that time Marcia thy affaires were in [...]and, Areus sate by thee, and comforted thee vnder another name. But thinke Marcia that death hath taken from thee more then euer was taken from any mother (I will not flatter thee, or lessen thy losse) if teares may conquere the destinie, let vs vni [...]e [Page 714] our teares, let vs spend euery day in sorrow, let the sleeples night consume it selfe in sadnesse, let our hands violate our torne breastes, and let our nayles imprint our sorrow in our faces, The sixth, Since that sor­row is vnprofi­table, because death is not mo­ued thereby, wee ought to refrain sorrow. let discontent exercise and extend it selfe in all sorts of cruelty. But if the dead are recalled by no teares, if Fate be immoue­able, and euerlastingly fixed, no misery is changed, and death possesseth whatsoeuer hee hath taken away; let sorrowes cease because it is vnprofi [...]a­ble. For which cause let vs gouerne our selues, neither permit this passion to transport vs beyond measure. It is a shame for a Master of a shippe to suffer his helme to bee beaten out of his hands by the billow, to neglect his Sailes that are shattered in the wind, and leaue his shippe to the mercy of a tempe [...]t, but hee euen in shipwracke is to bee commended, who holdeth his helme in his hand, though the seas swallow and sinke him.

CHAP. VII.

The seuenth, Wee must keepe a measure in sorrow. BVt yet there is a natural inclination in vs to bewaile those whom wee loue, who denies it as long as it is moderate? for there is a necessity that presseth vs, and retireth, and astonisheth the most constant hearts, not onely at such time as our friends die, but also when in this life by diuers occasions they are separated from vs. But that which opinion addeth, is more then Nature commandeth. Consider how vnbrideled the desires of bruit beasts are, Nature teacheth it not. and yet they are short. Cowes for a day or two lowe after the Bull, neither doth the wanton and wan­dring course of Mares last long. Wilde beastes after they haue sented the foote of their young ones, and haue searched them sometimes amidst the forrest, when they returne backe againe to their empty dennes, in a few dayes surcease their rage. Birdes with great chattering flie about their empty ne [...]ts, but in an instant they are appeased, and keepe their accustomed flight. There is no crea­ture that so long time bewaileth the want of his young ones as man, who ac­companieth his owne griefe, and is not onely touched with the sense thereof, but also with the conclusion; hee hath taken with himselfe to torment him­selfe thus and so long time. The eighth, I [...] is the proper­ [...]y of [...]w [...]rdes [...]nd d [...]generate p [...]s [...]ns to tor­ment themselues much. And to the end thou maiest know, that it is an vn­naturall thing to bee broken with sorrowes; first one and the same losse is more hurtfull to women then men, to barbarians then ciuill men, to the ig­norant then the learned. But those that haue receiued their forces from na­ture keepe the same tenure in all things. That which is diuers, is not natu­rall: Fire at all times will burne the Inhabitants of all Cities, as well men as women. Iron will shew it selfe in euery body that it hath power to cutte vpon. Why? by reason that nature which doth nothing in vaine hath giuen them this property. One man feeleth pouerty, paine, losse of children in one kind, and that man in another kind as custome teacheth him, and as a feeble o­pinion of fearing of those things that are terrible, maketh him eyther impati­ent or constant.

CHAP. VIII.

AGaine that which is naturall decreaseth not by delay, but time consumeth sorrow. Bee shee neuer so rebellious, bee shee ne­uer so continuall, The ninth, We must suffer time to extin­guish sorrow. be shee neuer so obstinate against remedies, yet time which is the most effectuall meanes to mitigate fury, will weaken it. True it is Marcia, that as yet thou art very much affli­cted, [...]nd it seemeth that thy [...]orrow (not so v [...]hement a [...] at first, but setled and obstinate) hath contracted a callosity, and is wholly heardned. Yet will time draw this from thee by little and little, as oftentimes as thou sh [...]lt exercise thy selfe in other things, thy minde shall finde some reliefe. Now thou hast a guard ouer thy selfe: b [...]t there is a great difference whether thou permittest or com­mandest thy selfe to mourne. How farre more beseeming is it for thine honest and venerable manner of life to giue an end to thy sorrow, then to expect that it should end of it selfe? neither oughtest thou to attend the day wherein sor­row should abandon thee against thy will. But beginne thou first to giue him pasport.

CHAP. IX.

WHence grow wee therefore so obstinate in our complaints, if this that is done, The tenth, The common condition of all manki [...]d should m [...]ke vs resolute otherwi [...]e af­fl [...]ctions would very hardly be disgested. bee not by the commandement of nature. It is be­cause wee thinke that euill shall neuer encounter vs, except then when wee feele the same: but as if wee had a letter of exempti­on, and that wee were entred into a way more plaine then other men; the sinister accidents of our neighbours cannot teach vs that our danger is as great as theirs. We see so many dead bodies passe before our dores, and so many mourners that attend them with bitter teares, but in stead of thinking our death, wee shape out in our thought a mans garment for our young chil­dren, wee runne to the warres, and already husband the inheritance and succes­sion of our fathers. Wee see so many rich men sodainely become poore; yet neuer sinketh it into our hearts, that our riches may as easily slip out of our hands, as these did from them. Our fall therefore must bee the greater, be­cause wee feele not that wee are subiect to slippe, but then when we are falne and brought vnto the lowest. Those things that are long time foreseene, assault vs more leasurly. Wilt thou know how thou art exposed to all strokes, and that those weapons that haue wounded thee, haue be [...]ne enforced against thee? Suppose that being disarmed, thou mountest vpon some wall, or some place well defenced by the enemy, hard to bee s [...]aled, and that thou expectest to be rescued, The ele [...]enth, A [...]flictions that a [...]e for seen are sl [...]ght. sodainely wounded, that tho [...] makest a certaine account that those ar­row [...]s, those stones, those darts that flie in th [...] aire ar [...] aimed at thee, when thou shalt see that they fall on one side, or behinde thy backe, then maiest thou cry; O fortune thou shalt not deceiue me, neither shalt thou surprise me, ey­ther secure or negligent. I know thy designes, thou wouldest haue strucken me, but hast wounded another. But what man is he that euer considered his goods as if they should perish? who is he amongst vs that durst be so bold, as to thinke on his exile, his pouerty or sorrow? who is he, that if he bee admonished to thinke vpon his parents security, refuseth it not as a direfull and ominous pre­sage, [Page 716] and that prayeth not that this mishappe may sooner fall vpon the head of his enemy, The tw [...]lfth, That which may befall any man may also be for­tune vs. When it is come, let vs endure it. or of that his vntimely Counsellor and admonisher? I thought not that this should come to passe, Thinkest thou that which thou knowest is incident vnto many, and that thou seest befall other men, cannot happen to thee: I hard an excellent verse and worthy Publius;

That which be fortunes one may fall to many.

This man hath lost his children, and thou maiest lose thine. That man i [...] con­demned, and thine innocency is vnder the stroke. This error deceiueth vs; this maketh vs effeminate, whilest we suffer those things which we neuer fore­see that wee could succour. He taketh away the power of present euils, who foreseeth the future.

CHAP. X.

ALL these accessaries Marcia that shine about vs as children, ho­nours; riches, large pallaces, and people that expect at our dore to salute and attend vs, The thirteenth, Al [...] our goods are g [...]uen vs to be re [...]tored again at Gods plea [...]ure l [...]t vs no [...] bee aggrieued that he redemand them. a worthy, noble and fayre wife, and other such goods as depend on the inconstancy of mutable fortune, are but forraine and hired ornaments, which are not giuen but lent vs to decke the Theatre wherin the Sceane of our life is acted, and which ought to bee returned to those to whom they appertaine. Some of these must bee brought home the first day, others the next day; few shall perseuer, and continue to the end. Wee are not therefore to esteeme them, as if they were our owne, they are but lent vs. The vse of them is ours, according as it pleaseth him to whom they appertaine. Wee ought to haue in a readinesse those things which were giuen vs for a certaine time, that when they be called for, they may be restored without grudging. Wicked is that debtor that slan­dereth and iniureth his creditor; so then wee ought to loue those in such sort, who are issued from vs, and whom according to the law of nature wee desire to leaue in this world after vs, and doe not amisse to wish that we may die be­fore them, as if wee had no promise that they should suruiue vs or continue with vs. Oftimes the manner is to bee admonished to loue them as transitory things, yea as such as are already parting from vs, and let vs possesse all that which fortune hath giuen vs, as a thing that must vanish in an instant: take your pleasure of your children, and let them haue the fruition of yonr selues, and without delay enioy all that pleasure you affect. Let no man builde vpon to morrowes content, I haue giuen you too long, delay nothing of that howre in which we are. Wee are to make hast, death attendeth at our backes, and all this number that attendeth vs shall bee scattered in a moment. In lesse then a watchword, The fourteenth, It is Gods ordi­nance that hath limited our life which wee [...]ll depart witha [...]l, when it pleaseth him. all these secreties shall be dispersed. All things are vanished from vs miserable men; you haue not the spirit to liue in following life; if thou com­playnest the death of thy sonne, the fault is in the time wherein he was borne, for at that time was hee destinated to die. Hee was giuen thee vpon that con­dition, and as soone as hee came out of thy wombe, hee ranne after this arrest. We are vnder the rigorous & vnconquered power of fortune, and endure our good or euill according to her pleasure: shee afflicteth, outrageth and tormen­teth our bodies; some burneth shee with fire, either to ruine them, or to heale [Page 717] them: some shall she cast into the sea, where after they haue strugled with the waues in stead of casting them on the shore of the sand, shee shall cast them into the bellie of some great fish. Othersome there are that shee shall detaine long time betwixt life & death, hauing tired them by diuers sorts of sicknesses; and likewise tied them to an vnconstant and lasciuious mistris, that maketh no account of her slaues, but sometimes tormenteth and striketh them, some­times flattereth and rewardeth them. What neede wee complaine of the partes of our life. The whole is lamentable; new incommodities shall vrge thee before thou hast satisfied the olde: you ought therfore to moderate your selues in those things, especially, which you impatiently suffer, applying one part of your thoughts to the apprehension of euils, an other to the sense of them.

CHAP. XI.

BVt whence commeth it that thou thus forgettest thine owne estate, The fifteenth, Since wee are mortall, let vs not thinke it strange or euill if that which is begotten by vs, be subiect to death. The description of the miseries of life. and the condition of the whole world. Thou art borne mortall, and hast brought forth mortall children; thou has [...] a body enclined to corruption and distraction, hauing beene bea­ten with so many accidents and sicknesses; didst thou hope in so fraile and weak a matter that thou crauedst some thing solide and eternall. Thy sonne is departed, that is, hee hath finished his course, to which end they that are more happy then thy sonne doe flocke and hasten. All these that wrangle at the Palace, that fill the Theaters, that pray in the Temp [...]s, march th [...]ther but in a different place. Euen those things which you r [...]uerence [...] and those things which you despise, one death shall make equall [...] The same is comman­ded thee by the inscription of the Oracle of Ap [...]llo [...] Know thy selfe [...] What is ma [...] a broken vessell, a thing moore fraile then may bee imagined; there need [...] no great tempest to breake thee, wheresoeuer thou art cast thou art shattered. What is man? a weake, fraile, and naked body [...] disarmed by nature, that ne [...] ­deth an others helpe, abandoned to all the outrages of fortu [...] in the greatest vigor of his age, exposed for a pray to wilde beasts [...] subiect to bee spoyled by the next that meeteth him, framed of those thinges that haue no firmity or continuance, faire in appearance, and in outward lineame [...], but neither able to endure either colde, heate or trauell. Tending through his one and idlenes, to consume himselfe, fearing that which nourisheth him, because that some­times the want thereof grieueth him, and sometimes the abundance bursteth him. Careful and suspitious of his security, his soule but borrow [...]d and loathing his abode, a sodaine noyse and vnexpected, and dreadfull t [...]h of the [...]ar [...] will driue her from him, and alwayes his nourishment corrupt [...]h and humbleth him. Doe wee remember that death which is necessary to all m [...]n, striketh at one man? was not this building raised to th [...] [...]nd to bee ruined? His odors, sa­uors, lassitudes, watchings, humors, meates and other things, without which hee could not liue, are the occasion of his death. On what side soeuer hee tur­neth himselfe, he incontinently espieth the markes of his infi [...]mity. Euery ayre is not good for him, the change of waters, an vn [...]customed breath of winde, and other light and hurtfull causes make him [...] that hee is sickly, rotten, broken, and that hee beganne his life with teares: Meane while [...] what troubles doth this catife creature cause? how many thoughts ham [...]ereth hee in his [Page 718] head being forgetfull of his owne condition? His thoughts wander vppon im­mortalities and eternities, he disposeth of the affaires of his third and fourth generation, and whilst hee thus swelteth after these long apprehensions, death laies hould on him, and that which wee call age is but a small reuolution of yeeres.

CHAP. XII.

TEll me O Marcia, if thy sorrow haue any ground or reason in it, whether it respecteth thine incommodities or these of thy sonne? Whether art thou moued in the losse of thy Sonne, Sixteenth. Whe­ther it be that those that are deceased, haue beene in ioy lit­tle or long time, with vs their condition i [...] such that we haue no occasion to be­waile them. because thou hast receiued no pleasures by him, or for that thou mightest haue enioyed greater if he had liued longer? If thou say that thou hast receiued none, thou wilt make thy losse more tollerable. For men lesse com­plaine, the misse of those things that haue giuen them neither ioy not pleasure. And if thou confesse that thy Sonne hath highly contented thee, thou art not to complaine, because hee is taken from thee, but to giue thankes for that thou hast enioyed. Thou hast likewise reaped great fruit of thy labours in his very education, except happily they, who carefully nourish yong whelpes and birds, and such like friuolous delights of the minde, conceiue some pleasure in the sought touch and wanton fawning of mute beasts, and that education it selfe is not the fruit of education, to those that nourish their children. Although therefore his industrie hath profited thee nothing, neither his diligence hath preserued thee, that his prudence hath not employed it selfe to doe thee good, yet that which thou hast had and loued is the fruit of thy labour. But it might either haue beene longer or greater? Yet art thou delt better with all, then if it had not happened at all; for if choice may be giuen, whether it be bet­ter to be happie for a small time or neuer, it were better for vs to enioy those goods which must quietly passe from vs, then to haue none at all. Hadst thou rather haue had an vnthrift, who had nothing good in him, but the title and name of a Sonne, or this thy Sonne who was of so good a nature? The young man was quickly prudent, quickly pious, quickly a husband, sudainely a father, quickly a magistrate or officer, The Seuenteenth, The more excellent the goods we haue are, the more willing should we be to restore them because the diuine proui­dence is not ac­customed to al­low vs a long possessio of that, which from the beginning he hath perfected. and sudainely a Priest; In briefe, all good things appeared sudainely in him. Scarcely doth long and great goods befall any man. There is no felicitie that endureth long, and attaineth his period, but that which encreased by little and little. The immortall gods intending to giue thee a Sonne for a little time, did presently giue thee him, such as hee might haue prooued by continuance. Neither canst thou say this, that thou onely art chosen by the gods to enioy thy Sonne a little while. Cast thine eyes euery way amongst thy acquaintance and strangers, thou shalt euery where meete with greater. Great Captaines and Princes haue tasted hereof. The Poets haue not exempted the gods themselues, and I thinke they haue thus made men belieue [...] that the gods were deiected, that they might pacifie and lesson the sorrow we conceiue in the losse of our neerest friends. Prie I say into euerie place and thou shalt name me: no house so miserable that shall not finde solace considering another that is farre more afflicted and miserable. Assured­ly I haue not so ill an opinion of thy manners that I would thinke that thou wilt more easily endure thy crosse, if I should recken vp vnto thee a great num­ber of mourners. A troope of miserable men, is an enuious kind of solace, yet [Page 719] some will I recken vp vnto thee, not to the end thou shouldest know, that this is wont to happen vnto men, for it is a ridiculous thing to collect the examples of mortality: The eighteenth Other mens af­flictions should teach vs to dis­gest our enemie. but to the end that thou maist know that there were many who haue lessened their aduersities by bearing them patiently. I will begin with a most happie man, Lucius Scilla lost his sonne, neither did this casualty weaken his malice or his extreame rigor both towards enemies & his cittizens, neither was it the cause why hee might not seeme to vsurpe that surname securlie which he tooke vpon him after the losse of his sonne, neither affraide of the hatred of men on whose miseries his ouer fruitefull felicities consisted [...] neither of the gods displeasure, whose crime it was that Scilla was so happie. But what Scilla was, let vs leaue amongst those things that are vncertaine, yet will his ene­mies confesse that he tooke vpon him armes happily and gaue them ouer dis­creetly. And in regard of that whereof we now speake, it appeareth that it is no great euill which attainteth and attaineth those that ar [...] most happie. And no lesse let Greece admire that father, who during the time of his sacrifice recei­uing tidings of his sonnes death, onely commaunded the musition to hould his peace, and tooke the crowne from his head, and afterwards duely finished the rest of the sacrifice.

CHAP. XIII.

THis did Puluillus the chiefe bishop, Other examples of Zenopho [...] and Puluillus. who at that time as hee held the post, and dedicated the Capitoll, receiued tidings of his sons death, and yet without making shew of that was tould vnto him, he pronounced the solemne hymme of the pontificall consecra­tion, without interrupting the same with any sighes, and hearing the name of his sonne, he caused Iupiter to be propitious and fauourable to the cittie & common weale. Wouldst thou thinke that this sorrow which vpon the first day, and the chiefest assault could not draw the father from the publique altars and solemne dedication, should euer haue ceased? vndoubtedly Puluillus was worthy of a memorable dedication, worthy of a high priesthood, who desisted not from worshipping the gods; no not when they were displea­sed: yet the same man as soone as he came home, and had satisfied his griefe with teares, and powred forth some lamentations, and hauing fulfilled those offices which were accustomably due vnto the dead, returned to the Capitoll with a merrie countenance. Paulus AEmilius about that time of his so renowned, triumph, wherein he led before his chariot the king Perseus as his prisoner, and giuen two of his sonnes to be adopted into another famelie, sawe the two o­thers buried, whom he had reserued to himselfe? what were these two think­est thou, when as Scipio was one of these that was giuen to be adopted? yet the Romane people beheld Paulus chariot voide & yet he vnmoued, yet declaimed he, and gaue thankes vnto the Gods, because they had graunted him his wish. For he had besought them often times, that if for so great a victorie some grea­ter incomoditie might befall him, it might rather redowne to his priuate, then the publique damage. Seest thou with how great a minde he bare it? he gaue them thanks for the death of his children. Could such a change moue any man more? he had lost in one instant his solaces and his staies, and yet Per­seus had not that credite to see Paulus AEmilius sad or distressed.

CHAP. XIIII.

The four [...]teenth, Examples of Lucius [...]ibu­lus. WHy should I leade thee thorow so innumerable examples of great men, and complaine their wretchednesse? as if it bee not a harder matter to finde out happy men? what house is it that hath continually stood at one stay in all respects? wherein there hath not hapned some disaster and perturbation? Consider the yeeres one after another, and marke those that haue beene Consuls, and if thou will Lucius Bibulus, and C [...]ius Caesar, and thou shalt see betwixt these two com­panions that were mortall enemies, one and the same fortune. Lucius Bibulus a man more honest then stout, had two of his sonnes slaine at one time. They were both of them a scorne to an Egyptian souldier; so that the Father had more occasion to bewaile the indignity they had receiued at his hands, then the losse of his children; yet Bibulus that during the whole time of his Consu­late, had kept house by reason of the euill carriages of his fellow Consull, re­ceiuing tidings of this accident, came abroad and performed his wonted and publike offices. What could hee doe lesse then bestow one day on his two sons? so quickly ended hee his sorrow for his children, who had bewailed the Con­sulate a whole yeare. Caius Caesar when hee had ouerrunne the whole Country of England, and could not containe his felicity within the Ocean, had tidinges that his daughter was dead, that by her losse drew the publike peace into dan­ger: he had represented before his eyes his sonne in law, Cnaius Pompey, who could not endure that any other should be reputed or held more great in Rome then him [...]elfe, and who would haue opposed himselfe against all those which pretended to bee aduanced, although it were not to his disaduantage [...] yet not­withstanding all this, Caesar which three dayes executed that charge which was committed vnto him in being Generall, and ouercame his sorrow so soone as hee was wont to ouercome all other things.

CHAP. XV.

WHy should I relate vnto thee the funerals of the other Caesars, I will onely tell thee this, The sixth ex­ample of Augu­stus. that in my iudgement fortune hauing so rudely assailed them, hath giuen by this meane [...] a profitable in­struction to the whole world; for shee maketh them see that the children of the gods, and such as should engender gods, haue not their owne fortune in their hands as they haue other mens. Di [...]s Augu­s [...]us hauing lost his children and nephewes; in briefe the whole Progeny of the Caesars supported his desolate house by adoption; yet endured hee these losses as temperately as if hee had beene already de [...]fied, and as if some one had done him iniury, if hee should haue come and complained of the Deities. Tiberius Caesar both had lost him whom hee begat, and him whom he had adopted, yet notwithstanding [...] hee himselfe pronounced the funerall Oration, in prayse of his sonne in the publike place of declamations, and constantly stoode in the sight of the dead body, and had but a vaile betweene them to conceale the bo­dy from the sight of the high Bishoppe. Although the Romane people wept, hee changed not his countenance, and made S [...]ianus know who stood fast by him, that hee was armed with patience to endure the losse of his children. Seest [Page 721] thou not this great number of men of note, enriched with so many gifts of the mind, and so many honours both publike and particular, whome death (that deuoureth all thinges) spareth not? nay further, this tempest extendeth it selfe ouer the whole world; and without election destroyeth all things, and maketh them as her owne. Command euery man to giue a reason, and thou shalt finde that no man hath entred into this world but to forsake it.

CHAP. XVI.

I Know what thou wilt say. Thou hast forgotten that thou com­fortest a woman, To satisfie Mar­cias ob [...]ction, that these are the examp [...]es of m [...]n, he induceth Lucretia. and onely tellest vs of the examples of men: but who dare maintaine that nature hath shewed her selfe partiall in womens be halfe, and hath restrained their vertues. Belieue mee they haue the same vigor and free faculty of mind, as men haue to apprehend that which is honest, and if they accustome themselues, they en­dure both labour and sorrow as equally as they doe. Good gods in what City speake wee this? In that where Lucretia and Brutus deliuered the Romanes from the captiuity of Kings: wee must acknowledge our liberty to proceede from Brutus; and wee are indebted to Lucretia for Brutus. In that wh [...]re wee haue eternized Caelia the virgin in the number of the most valiant of her time, by reason of her vndaunted boldnes, when in despight of the enemy she swam ouer Tiber. Her statue on horsebacke, planted in the midst of that famous and sacred street, reproacheth our young men that are mounted in their Coaches, and enter in that sort into that City, wherein wee haue made presents of hor­ses vnto women: but if thou wilt haue mee set thee downe an example of wo­men that haue endured the death of their friends constantly, I will not begge it from dore to dore, I will produce out of our family the two Corneliaes. The first was Scipioes daughter, and mother to the Gracchi. She had twelue children that all of them died before her. As touching ten of them, whom Rome neither ap­perceiued liuing or dead, if I may so speake it, the losse might in some sort bee borne. But in respect of those her two sonnes Tiberius Gracchus and Gnaius, (whom though men admit not for peaceable men, yet must they acknow­ledge them for honourable Personages) she saw them slaine and vnburied. And when as some one in comforting her called her poore and desolate mother: Ne­uer (saith shee) will I call my selfe vnhappy who haue bred the Grac [...]hi. The other Cornelia lost Liuius Drusus her sonne a yong. Gentleman, The nineteenth, He answereth a new complaint of Ma [...] as, and sheweth h [...]r what occasion shee hath [...]o com­fort her selfe, considering these comfo [...]ts that are le [...]t behind, and this is it that wee ought to con­sider in [...] a [...] ­flictions, t [...]t God o [...]ten [...]mes leaueth i [...] many helpes, w [...]en hee might take a­way all. well borne of great hope, and one that followed the example of the Gracchi, who hauing le [...]t some suites of great importance vnperfect, which concerned the common-weale, was slaine in his owne house, and no man knew who did the deed [...] yet Cornelia en­dured the bloody and vnreuenged death of her sonne, that shee her selfe presumed to bee so bold, as to publish certaine Edicts in way of consola­tion to the people. Now Martia shalt thou become friends with fortune a­gaine, if thou consider that shee hath darted the like arrowes against thee, as shee did against the Scipios their mothers three children, and Caesars themselues. Life is replenished and broken with diuers accidents, which haue no long re­pose, and almost no truce. Thou hast had fower children Marcia: but they say that there is no arrow that falleth in vaine that is shot against a troupe of the enemy. Is it so great a wonder that so great a company could not be ouer­passed without enuy or losse? But in this was Fortune more vniust, because [Page 722] shee not onely tooke away thy children, but made choice of them, yet say thou not that hee is wronged that hath his equall part and portion with his Lord. Fortune hath left thee two daughters and their children, and of all these shee hath onely borne away thy sonne, whom thou so much bewaylest, ha­uing forgotten the other that was dead before him. Thou hast by this sonne two daughrers who resemble their father, if thou bring them vp and nourish them against thy heart, they are two mighty burthens; contrariwise if thou take pleasure in them, they will bee great comforts vnto thee. To this end brought hee them thee, that seeing these daughters they should refresh the memory of thy sonne, and not of thy sorrow. The husbandman when hee sees his trees ouerturned, which eyther the winde hath rent vp by the roote, or the violent tempest hath broken by a violent wherry, nourisheth the rest of their siens, and presently setteth the seedes of those plants hee hath lost, and in a moment (for time is as violent and headlong in increases, as she is in losses) they spring more flourishing then those that were lost. Substitute now these daughters of Metillius in his stead, and fill vp the voide place. Relieue thou our sorrow with a double solace. Truely this is the nature of mortall men, that nothing is more pleasing then that which is lost, wee are more partiall to those that are left, and more desirous of those that are taken from vs. But if thou wilt estimate how much fortune spared then, euee then when shee was an­gry with thee, thou shalt know that thou hast more then comforts, witnesse so many Nephewes and two daughters.

CHAP. XVII.

SAy this likewise Marcia, it would moue mee, if fortune should respect euery one according to his behauiour Good men should neuer be seconded by misfortunes; The twentieth, The condition of our life ought to inuite vs to con­stan [...]y. but now I see without any difference, and after the same manner, that both good and bad are indifferently distressed: yet is it a grieuous matter to lose a young man whom thou hast brought vp, and that now would be both an help and ornament to his father and mother. Who denies that it is a grieuous mat­ter? yet is it humane. To this wert thou borne, that thou shouldest lose, that thou shouldest die, that thou shouldest hope, that thou shouldest feare, that thou shouldest disquiet both thy selfe and others, that thou shouldest feare & wish death, and that which is worst of all, that thou shouldest neuer know in what estate thou wert. If a man should say to him that would embarke and sayle to Siracusa: Before thou set sayle, consider all the commodities and in­commodities of thy voyage, then enter thou the shippe. These are the things that thou maiest wonder at. First of all thou shalt see Sicily diuided from Italy by a little arme of the sea, whereas in times past they were of one continent. The sea in that place maketh sodaine insults; Vnder an ex­cellent descrip­tion of a voyage by sea in [...] Sicily he sheweth to what goods and euils our liues are allotted, to the end in pro­sperity to pre­pare vs to ad­uersity.

Diuiding Italy frem Sicily.

Then shalt thou see (for thou must ouerpasse swiftly that dangerous in­gate of the sea) that gulfe of Charibdis so renowned amongst the Poets, which as long as it is free from the southerne winds is peaceable and calme; but if any wind breath from that place, shee swalloweth shippes in her [Page 723] deepe and deuouring billowes. Thou shalt likewise see the fountaine of A­rethusa, so celebrated amongst the Poets, wonderfully cleere and pure in the bottome and bubling vppe water that is very colde, whether thou draw­est it from the spring, or where shee stealeth from vnder the earth, when shee looseth her selfe, and passeth vnder the sea without intermixing it selfe loo­sing her sweetnesse amiddest the salte water. Afterwardes thou shalt arriue in the securest hauen that Nature euer made, or that humane indu­stry hath accommodated for the security of shippes, so assured and calme that the fury of most greatest tempests cannot any wayes afflict or encrease the same. Thou shalt see the place where the Athenian Nauy was dis­comfited, when so many thousand men were lost, and lockt vppe in that renowned prison, so immeasurably high and builded of hewen stone. Af­ter this the great City of Syracusa, and her towred walles of greater extent then are the Confines of diuers Cities, and no day without Sunne-shine. But after you haue seene all these commodities [...] on the other side, there presenteth it selfe a most hote and vnholesome Summer time, which cor­rupteth the benefites that the Winter had caused. There shalt thou find the Tyrant Dionisius sworne enemy of liberty, Iustice, and lawes; desirous of gouernement, and domination, and of life also. After his banishment; some he will burne, othersome he will beate, these vpon a fleight occasion hee wil command to bee beheaded, to satisfie his lusts; hee shall make vse both of male and female [...] and amongst the loathsome troupes and attendants of kingly intemperance, it shall bee a small matter at one time to commit pol­lution both wayes. Thou hast heard what may inuite thee, and what may withdraw thee; therefore eyther sayle onward or stay behind. If after this relation any man should say that hee would enter Siracusa: can hee iustly complayne against any man but himselfe, who should not haue falne vnto these miseries, except willingly and wittingly hee had sought them out? Thus speaketh Nature to vs all. I deceiue no man, thou if thou bearest chil­dren maist haue them faire, maist haue them deformed, and if happily thou bring forth many, one of them may as well bee a Protector of his Country, as an other a Traitor. Thinke not that they shall mount to that high dig­nity, that no man dare speake euill of thee for feare of them. But propose this to thy selfe, that they may bee so dissolute and licentious [...]that euery one will curse them. Nothing hindreth them to acquite themselues of that deuotion which they owe vnto thee [...] neyther are they forbidden to praise thee, Act dispose thy selfe, as if thou wouldest lay them on the Beere, eyther children, young men or olde men; for yeeres concerne this matter nothing at all: because there is no funerall, that is not accompanied with sorrow, and attended by the parents. If after these conditions, which haue been pro­posed, thou buriest thy children, thou canst in no sort complaine against the gods who haue promised thee nothing.

CHAP. XVIII.

An application of that he hath spo­ken of the voy­age to Syracusa [...] NOw therfore let vs apply and compare all the course of our life according to this example; I haue tolde thee since thou art deter­mined to visite Siracusa, what thing may please thee, and what of­fend thee, & suppose that now when thou art to enter life I come and giue thee this counsell. Thou art to enter a City, that is common both to gods and men, comprehending all things, obliged to certaine eternall and irreuocable lawes; where the caelestiall bodies performe their course without repose or lassitude. There shalt thou see innumerable stars, and wonder to see one Planet that enlightneth all things; the sunne that by his dai­ly course diuideth the spaces of day and night, equally distinguishing the yeere into Winter and Summer. There shalt thou see the nocturnall succession of the Moone borrow her milder and remisser heate from her brothers beames; sometimes hidden, and straight againe ouerlooking the whole earth with a full face, admirable in her encreases and decreases, being no one day the same, but altered continually. Thou shalt see the fierie Planets obseruing different courses, and shining oppositely the one against the other in their Spheares: on their so sodaine courses depend the destinies of nations, great and lesser effects doe follow, according to the benignity or malignity of their aspects. Thou wilt admire to behold the clouds that are gathered, the rains that fall, the ob­lique flashes of lightning, and the thunder in the ayre; when tho [...] shalt cast thine eyes vpon the earth that are already glutted with the sight of celestiall wonders; thou shalt be entertained with an other forme of things and wonder­full in an other kinde. On this side the extent of spacious Planets that the eye cannot apprehend them, on that side the toppes of mountaines enuying the cloudes, charged with snow the downefall of riuers, the floudes issuing from one and the same sowrce, running from east to west, the forrests nodding their bowes vpon the toppes of the highest mountaines, so many woods with the beasts that inhabite them, and such variety of melodious birdes. After these the diuers situation of Cities, the nations separated the one from the other by the difficulty of passages, the one retiring themselues to the mountaines, the o­ther spared themselues along the riuers sides, lakes, vallies, and marshes: the haruest forwarded by the husbandmans hand: the trees fruitfull without as­sistance of man, the gentle fleating of breakes and of the lawndes, the pleasant gulfes, the commodious hauens, so many Isles dispersed in the Ocean, which by their situation distinguish the seas. I speake not of pearles or pretious stones, nor of golde that runneth amidst the sands of the most violent riuers, nor of those fires that are enkindled both in the earth and in the seas, nor of the O­cean, which is the bond of Nations which separateth them with a triple straight, hauing otherwayes her perpetuall flux and reflux. When his billowes are layde, and steale along without any agitation of the winds, thou shalt see terrible [...]ishes, and of incredible greatnesse: others more heauie which swimme along vnder the conduct of others, some very [...]wift, and more sodaine in their turninges then a vessell with many Oares, others breathing out water to the great daungers of those that are Passengers. Thou shalt obserue on these Seas certaine Vesselles that goe to seeke out new found Landes, thou shalt see that humane boldnesse would know and discouer all thinges and thou thy selfe bee a looker and the greatest [Page 725] Aduenturer in the voyage thou shalt learne & teach with some tending to the commoditie, other some to the ornament and others to the gouernment of this life. But on the otherside in this cittie there shall be a thousand plagues of bodie and soule, wars, thefts, imprisonings, shipwrackes, heate, could, terrible changes of the aire, and cruell punishment of our bodies and of those whom we loue most; but finally death which thou knowest whether it shall be sweete and easie or accompanied with tortures and grieuous punishments. Deliberate with thy selfe, and ballance carefully which of these two thou wilt entertaine, if thou hast part of those goods that are mentioned before, thou must issue like­wise thorow the midst of those miseries. Thou wilt answer that thou wilt liue and why not? nay rather I thinke that thou pretendest not to approc [...] such a thing whereof thou canst not endure that any one should pull any portion from thee! Liue therefore as it becommeth thee, no man saist thou hath de­maunded our aduice. Our parents haue consulted about vs, who whereas they knew the condition of life verie well, haue brought vs vp vnto that end.

CHAP. XIX.

BVt to returne to consolations, wee must first of all see what the in­firmitie is whereunto we ought to applie a remedie. Secondly in what manner. The One and twentieth, They that are decea­sed are not ab­sent, neither haue abandoned vs, but haue gone before vs, and we shall so­dainely follow after them. He that mourneth is moued with the losse of him whom he loued, and this appeareth tollerable in it selfe. For wee bewaile not those who during their life time are and ought to bee absent from vs, although we bee depriued of their presence and the aide they might yeelde vs. It is therefore opinion that tormenteth vs, and all affliction is as much to be prised as wee haue rated it at. The remedy is in our owne hands. Wee iudge that our friends, parents, and neere kinsfolke are absent, and wee de­ceiue our selues? we haue dismissed thē; nay more we haue sent thē before with a purpose to follow them. The two and [...] twentieth, Oft times it is better for vs to be al­on [...] then in com­panie. This likewise moueth him that mourneth; I shal want one to defend me, & protect me frō contempt. To vse a scarce probable but yet a true comfort. In our cittie want of children getteth vs more grace then it ta­keth from vs. And so much hath solitude enabled ould age that was wont to de­stroy it; that some faine hatred of their children, some forsweare them, and wil­lingly make themselues desolate, I know what thou wilt say, my detriments moue me not, The three and twentieth, Since those that are dead were cre­ated to die, we should not weepe for them. for he is vnworthy of solace that taketh it heauily that his sonne is departed from him, as if he had lost a slaue, and that considereth in his sonne any other thing then his owne person. What therefore moueth thee Marcia? whether art thou agreeued because thy sonne is dead? or for that hee liued not long? If because he is dead, thou shouldst haue beene alwaies in griefe, for thou knowest alwaies that he should die. The foure and twenteth, Death is the end of mi­series, But this must be so vn­derstood that it is intended onely in respect of the body and till the time assigned wherein the world shall haue an end. Thinke this that the dead are afflicted with no euils, those things that make hell terrible vnto vs, are but fables, wee know that the dead are not enfoulded in darkenesse, that they are not in prison. Wee beleeue not those flouds flaming with fire, neither the lake of forgetfulnesse, nor the iudgement seate, neither that there are any guilty in that so large liber­tie, neither likewise that there are tirants. These are poeticall, and thus haue they tormented vs with vaine terrors. Death is both the solution and end of all sorrow, beyond which our euils passe not that reposeth vs in that tranquili­tie wherein we lay before we were borne. If a man will be sorrowfull for those [Page 726] that are dead, let him haue compassion likewise on those that are vnborne. Death is neither good nor euill. For that may bee either good or euill which is any thing, but that which of it selfe is nothing, and reduceth all things to no­thing, betrayeth vs to no fortune. For those things that are good and euill haue relation to some matter. Fortune cannot detaine that, which nature hath dismissed, neither can he bee a miserable man that is no man. Thy sonne is ex­empted from those bands wherein he was in bondage. He is entertained by a great and eternall peace, he is not afflicted with the feare of pouertie, the care of riches, the prouocations of lust attainting the minde by p [...]easures, hee is not touched with the enuy of another mans felicity, neither are his modest eares beaten with any slanders, hee beehouldeth neither publique nor priuate slaughters, he taketh not care for that which is to come, neither dependeth he on euents which tend and incline alwaies from euill to worse. At last he is stai­ed in such a place, from whence nothing may driue him away, and where no­thing affrighteth him.

CHAP. XX.

The [...]i [...]e and twentieth, He prosecuteth his discourse wh [...]rein he proueth more perticularly the commodities of death. O How ignorant are men of their miseries, who praise not death which is the best inuention of nature, which whether it include fe­licitie, or repe calamity, or terminateth sacietie or lassitude of old age, or carries away youth in his flower whilst better things are hoped for, or cutteth off childehood before hee vndergoe dange­rous courses; The end of al, the remedy of many, the wish of diuers men, deser­uing better of no men, then of those to whom shee came before she was called. She dismisseth the slaue in dispight of his Lord, she vnchaineth prisoners, shakes off the fetters of those men whom tirants hold captiue. She sheweth banished men that haue alwaies their hearts and eies fixed vpon their country, that it is a small matter amongst whom they are laid and buried. Shee when as fortune hath diuided common goods vnequally. And hath giuen to two brothers diffe­rent things, maketh them equall. She it is that hath neuer done anie thing ac­cording to another mans liking, she it is in which no man hath felt his humi­lity, [...]he it is that hath obaied no man, she it is Marcia whom thy father desired. She it is I say that bringeth it to passe that to bee borne is no punishment, that causeth me not to loose my courage when I am threatned by infinite accidents that maketh mee preserue my minde entire and maister of himselfe; I know where I must arriue; I see on this side Iibbets of diuers fashions, some hanging their heads downeward towards the earth, some thrust thorow with stakes, some hauing their armes stretched out vpon the gallowes. I see cords, strap­adoes, and tortures for euery member of the body, yea likewise I see death. On the oth [...]rside, I perceiue furious enemies, and proude cittizens, but heere like­wise see I death. The sixe and twenti [...]th, One dea [...]h dis [...]har­geth vs of [...]a [...]y sorrow [...]s. It is no hard matter to serue, when as at suth time as a man cannot endure his maister, he may attane his libertie by stepping one foote for­ward, against the iniuries of life I haue the benefit of death. Thinke how much good a fit and commodius death affordeth vs, and what euils haue befallen ma­ny by liuing too long If Pompey that honor and support of our common weale had died at Naples, vndoubtedly a man might haue said, Behold the prince of the Romaine pleople is deported. But now the adiection of a little more time made him fall from the height of his dignitie. Hee saw his legions slaine before [Page 727] his face, and what miserable remainders were these of that battaile, where the Senators led the armie to their end, that their Generall might be saued? For anon after he saw the AEgyptian murtherer, and presented his so venerable bo­die to a souldier that slew him. And had his life beene saued, he had repented himselfe. For what a shame had it beene that a King should haue giuen Pom­pey his life? If Marcus Cicero had died then, when he deliuered himselfe from that massacre, which Catili [...]e pretended to execute vpon him and Rome, that Common-weale that was defended by him, had called him her protector and safegard. Afterwards had he followed his daughter, then might his death haue beene esteemed happie, hee had not seene those threatning swords that were brandished ouer the heads of his Citizens, nor the goods of those that were murthered, giuen to the murtherers, in such sort that riches were cause of their deathes, who possessed them, he had not vnderstood that those goods that were taken from Consuls were sold at out-cries; nor of the murthers, nor of the spoiles which were recompenced out of the publike treasure, nor of the warres and rapines of three as bloudie as Catiline. Had the sea swallowed vp Cato when he returnd from Cyprus, with those goods which the King had bequeathed by his will to the Roman people, or had he perished with all that siluer which he brought with him, which was afterwards employed in the maintenance of ci­uill warre, had he not died happily? Surely he had carried away this honour with him, that no man had or durst doe any fault in Catoes presence. But now the adiection of a few yeares constrained this man, who was borne to main­taine both his owne, and the publike libertie to flie from Caesar, and to follow Pompey. The seuen and twentie [...]h, That no man dieth too soone. No euill therefore hath vntimely death brought to Metillius. Nay more, he is thereby exempted from all euils; yet died hee too soone and too yong. First presuppose that he liueth yet, and consider how little time is al­lotted man, in regard of the yeares of his life. And what is this? We are placed in this world for a moment of time, and shall in lesse then an instant dislodge from the same: and hauing entered thereunto vpon this condition, we haue al­wayes our eye fixed on that place whither we must tend: I speake of our yeares which fleete away with an incredible swiftnesse. Examine how many yeares, Ci­ties haue stood, and thou shalt see how little while they haue lasted, yea euen those that most glorie in their antiquitie. All humane things are fraile, and scarce occupie any place in this vast extent of infinite time. We say that all this earth, with the people thereof, these Cities, riuers, and that sea which incloseth them, is but a point in respect of the vniuerse. Our life is lesse then a point, if it be compared with all that time which is past, and is to come, which hath farre greater extent then the world, considering that time so oftentimes turneth and measureth himselfe in this so great inclo [...]ure of the same. What auaileth it vs then, to extend that which being brought to his full extent, will be almost as much as nothing? In one kinde we haue liued enough, and long enough, if it sufficeth vs. And if thou liuest as long as I can desire, and that therein old age be extended so farre as thou mayest make reckoning of ninety or of an hundred yeares: yet if thou wilt fixe thy thought vpon all the time of eternitie, there will be little difference betwixt the shortest and the longest life: if considering how many yeares euery one hath liued, The eight and twentieth, No man dieth be­fore his time, be­cause he hath li­ued as muc [...] as he ought. if thou compare them with those wherein he hath not liued. Againe, he died not vntimely, for he liued as long as he should haue liued: for there was no ouerplus of time wherein he should haue liued longer. The age of old men is not alike, no more is that of beasts. Some creatures are a weary of life after fourteene yeares, and this is their longest [Page 728] age, which to a man is but the first. Each one hath a different facultie of liuing. There is no man dieth too soone, who was not to liue longer then he liued. Eue­rie mans time is prefixed, it shall alwayes continue where it was setled; neyther shall eyther diligence or care aduance him farther: he knoweth that he breaketh his braines, and looseth his labour that pretendeth the contrary. Thy sonne hath runne his race, and hath attained to the prefixed end of his life. Thou art not therefore to loade thy selfe in this sort. He might haue liued longer. His life was not interrupted, and fortune neuer crossed the course of his yeares. E­uery one is payed that which is promised him: the des [...]inies are carried accor­ding to their proper vehemency: they neyther lengthen or shorten the time: in vaine are they besought or sollicited. Euery one shall haue as much as the first day of his life hath assigned him. From that time he began to see the light, he hath entered the way of death, and approached: destinie those yeares that were added to his youth were s [...]olne away from life: The nine and twen [...]th, [...]e are all in error, there is no man more estranged [...]rom [...] th [...]n another. we are all in this errour, that we thinke that none but olde and aged men are neere vnto death, whereas infancy, youth, and euery other age l [...]adeth vs thereunto. The Fates ply their businesse, they steale from vs the apprehension of our death; and to the end she may more easily steale vpon vs, she masketh her selfe vnder the name of life. Childehood carrieth away infancy, youth rauisheth childehood, and olde age youth: but if thou calculate well these decreases, they are as many decreases and losses.

CHAP. XXI.

Th [...] thirtie [...]h, It is [...]ly Go [...] th [...]t k [...]ew [...]h wh [...]n it i [...] [...]pedi [...]n [...] [...]or v [...] [...]o leau [...] our li [...]s. THou complainest Martia, that thy sonne liued not so long as hee might, but how knowest thou whether it were expedient for him to liue longer, or mo [...]e profitable for him that he died thus? What man canst thou finde at this day, whose affairs are so firme and well assured, that he hath no cause to feare that which is to come? Humane a [...]aires steale and slip away. Neyther is there any part of our life more declining and incertaine, then that which pleaseth vs most. And ther­fore the most happy ought to wish for death; because amidst this inconstancy and confusion of things, nothing is certaine but that which is past. Who could assure thee that this faire bodie of thy sonne, and the marueilous care that hee had of his honour, maintayned in the middest of so many eyes of a Cittie, foun­ded and confounded with dissolutions and excesse, could in such sort warrant himselfe from sickenesse, that vntill olde age his beautie and seemlinesse should haue remained vntouched?

CHAP. XXII.

Th [...] one [...]nd [...], No [...]an know [...]th his d [...]stiny, [...] [...]he [...] adui [...]d cannot fore­ [...]e th [...]t which is t [...] come to pass [...]; we ought not therefore to be­w [...]e [...]hose that d [...] in you [...]h. PRopose vnto thy selfe a thousand infirmities of the soule [...] for ma­ny excellent spirits haue not maintained vnto their olde age, that hope that we had conceiued of them in th [...]ir youth; but often­times they haue degenerated. In their latter dayes therefore con­sequently, and to their greater shame, they haue addicted them­selues to palliardise, which hath made them soile the faire beginnings of their life. Or being plunged in drunkennesse and gourmandise, their principall care [Page 729] hath beene to know what they should eate or drinke. Adde hereunto the burnings, the ruines, shipwrackes, the operation of Surgeons, who cut off their members, pull out their braines, th [...]ust their hands into their entrailes, and heale their priuie parts, not without excessiue paine: after these, banishment, for thy sonne was no honester man then was Rutillius: and prison, sure he hath not bin a wiser man then Socrates: and with the stab of a Poinard that was voluntarily buried in his breast, sure he was not more vertuous then Cato. In considering these things thou shalt finde that they are happy whom nature hath retyred in good time into a place of securitie, considering that in the end they could not receiue any other reward of their life, then that or some such like. There is no­thing so deceitfull as mans life, nothing so tray [...]rous. No man would haue ac­cepted life except it had beene giuen at vnawares: and therfore it is a great hap­pines not to be born, and another happines that death is neere to shorten that life, A [...] of Cro­mutius Co [...] ­dus constancy and death, yet let men temper their iudge­ment: there is a law about Stoi­call when that must reforme these resolutions. and put vs in that estate wherein we were before we liued. Call to thy re­membrance those wretched times, wherin S [...]ianus made a present to Atrius Se­c [...]dus his Clyent of the confiscation of thy fathers goods [...] which he tooke from him by reason of some confident speeches he had vttered: for thy father could not holde his peace, se [...]ing that men intended not onely to make vs subiect to S [...]ianus, but that by degrees he mounted to the soueraigne authority. It was decreed that a statue should be raised for him in Pompei [...] Theater, which the Emperour caused to be reedified because it had beene burned. Cardus exclai­med, That then the Theatre was wholly ruinated. And what heart would not haue burst, seeing S [...]ianus sit vpon Pompeis Cinders, and a wicked souldier enstalled in the place of a great Captaine? Notwithstanding the sta [...]u [...] was reared with a subscription. On the other side those Masties that this cursed S [...]ianus nourished with humane bloud, to the end that they should be priuate to himselfe, and in­raged against all others, began to barke on euery side against thy father, who thought not of them. What should he do [...]? To maintaine himselfe in life, it behooued him to humble himselfe before S [...]ianus; to die, to haue licence from thee his daughter. But it was impossible for him to pacifi [...] S [...]i [...]s, and his daughter lesse; yet at the last Cordus resolued with himselfe to deceiue his daughter. Hauing therefore taken his bath, the more easily to deceiue her, he retired himselfe into his chamber, as if he intended to take some re [...]ection be­fore his supper; and hauing dispatched his seruants and pages about some bu­sinesse, he cast some morsels of meat out of the window, to the end it might be thought that he had eaten. Afterwards, as if he had sufficiently nourished him­selfe in his chamber, he abstained from his supper, continuing the same course the second and third day: vpon the fourth day the infirmitie of his body disco­uered what he meant. Embracing thee therefore he said, My deerest daughter, I haue concealed nothing from thee during my whole life, but this, I am entred the way of death, and haue almost attained the halfe: thou neyther shouldest, nor canst recall me back againe. After he had spoken this, he commanded the lights to be carried away, and retired himselfe into an obscure place. This act of his being discouered, e­uery one was glad that the prey was taken out of the throats of those greedie Wolues. His accusers by S [...]ianus incitation, presented themselues before the siege of the Consuls, complayning that Cordus was a dying, to the end to obtain permission to withdraw him from that whereunto they had compelled him; so much were they aggrieued that Cordus should escape their fingers. The que­stion was vpon a matter of great importance, whether those that were adiudg­ed to die should be hindered from procuring their death. Whilst this matter [Page 730] was in debating, and the accusers goe and come, Cordus was deliuered from their clawes. Seest thou not, Marcia, how vnexpectedly the reuolutions of wretched times doe steale vpon vs? Doest thou weepe because one of thine must needs die? Thou seest how hard a thing it was for him to get this priui­ledge.

CHAP. XXIII.

The two and thirtieth, Our bodies are the prisons of our soules, which conceiue great content to get their recourse to heauen. BEsides this, that euery future thing is vncertaine, and the way to the worse is more assured: it is easier for vs to ascend to heauen, whereas our mindes are quickly dismissed from humane con­uersation. For they haue gathered lesse drosse and ordure, and being deliuered, before which were confused and ouerwhelmed with the meditation of earthly things, they are more light to flie backe againe to their originall; and more easily ouerpasse all that which may hinder them. For neuer did great wits take pleasure to remaine in their earthly prisons, they are glad to forsake them, and breake thorow them: these so strict limits are dis­pleasing to them, being accustomed to raise themselues aboue the heauens, and to contemne from aboue all humane and base things. Thence is it that Plato crieth, That a wise mans minde is wholly intended vpon death, that this he willeth, this he meditateth, that he is alwayes possessed with this desire, when he beholdeth exterior things. What thoughtest thou, Marcia, when thou sawest a yong man reple­nished with aged wisedome, a minde triumphing ouer all pleasures, reformed, deuoid of vice [...] rich without auarice, raised to honor without ambition, desi­rous to haue pleasures without dissolution to keepe him long time? What soe­uer hath attained his perfection hasteth to his end. Perfect vertue retireth it selfe and vanisheth from our eyes: neither do the fruits expect their Autumne, that are ripe in Summer. The fire the more it shineth, the sooner is it extin­guished, and that lasteth longest which being mixed with a moist matter and hard to kindle, and smothered in smoke, shineth thorow the smother. For that which nourisheth it, as it were by constraint, is the cause it continueth more long time. So good spirits, the more famous they are, the shorter they liue. For whereas there is no place of encrease, there decrease is the nearer. Fabianus said, and our predecessors also haue seen it, that there was an infant at Rome, as great as an absolute man, but he liued not long, and euery one that had iudge­ment was of opinion that hee should die shortly. For he could not encrease so much in yeares, as hee had attained by his stature. So maturitie is a token of imminent ouerthrow, and the end aproacheth where encreases are con­summed.

CHAP. XXIIII.

BEginne to estimate him by his vertues, The three and thirtieth, He that hath liued vertuously, ought not to be bewai­led in his depar­ture out of this world, where the longer he had stayed, the more might he haue beene corrupted. and not by his yeares. He hath liued enough, he was left a pupill, and vntill the fourteenth yeare of his age he was vnder the gouernment of Tutors, but al­wayes vnder his mothers custodie: when hee had a house of his owne, yet would he not leaue thine. Being a yong man, both in stature, beautie, and other strength of the bodie, borne to be a souldier, he re­fused warfare, because hee would not leaue thee desolate. Consider Marcia, how many mothers there bee in diuers houses, that see their children ve­rie little. Thinke you that those mothers, whose sonnes follow the warres, lose in respect of them whole yeares, and liue solitarilie? then shalt thou know that there is much time remaining thee, in which thou hast lost nothing. Thy sonne neuer departed out of thy sight, hee framed his studies in thy pre­sence, shewing himselfe of a most excellent spirit, but it was accompanied with a modest feare, the which hath buried many perfections in diuers men. He was one of the goodliest Gentlemen that a man might behold, yet behaued he him­selfe with so great temperance and modestie, that amiddest so great a troope of men-corrupting women, he gaue no occasion of suspition: and whereas some of their impudence had attempted so far as to tempt him, he blushed and was angrie with himselfe, because he had pleased. This holinesse in his manners was the cause, that so yong as he was, he was thought worthie to be entertained a­mongst the number of those that intermedled with those things that appertai­ned to religion, and that by the aid and assistance of his mother. In contempla­tion of these his vertues so behaue thy selfe, as if he were more conuersant with thee now then euer. Now hath he nothing to withdraw him, he shall neuer put thee in care, or cause thee to sorrow, and all the griefe thou hast conceiued for so good a sonne is finished: the rest being exempted from casualties, are full of pleasures, if thou knowest how to make vse of thy sonne, and if thou knowest that which hath beene most precious in him, thou hast but lost the Image and resemblance of him, although it resembled him not rightly. For he is eternall, and for the present in better estate then euer, despoiled of forren incombran­ces, and at his full libertie. These bones that thou seest wreathed about with nerues, this skin that couered vs, this countenance, and these ministring hands, and those other members that enclose vs, are the bonds and fetters of the soule which is deiected, obscured, infected, and hindered from knowing the truth of those things that appertaine vnto her, and distracted with error. Shee hath a grieuous combate with this flesh, to the end she may not be made captiue and slaue vnto it. She extendeth and raiseth her selfe to the place from whence she was sent: there is her eternall repose, where in stead of troubles and confusi­ons of this world, she shall see nothing but that is cleare and pure.

CHAP. XXV.

THou hast no cause therefore to runne vnto thy sonnes sepulchre. The foure and thirtieth, The bo­dy is not the man but the soule, which leaueth nothing of her selfe vpon the earth. There lye his bones and ashes, the worser part of him, and most troublesome vnto him, and are no more parts of him then his raiment and other couertures of his bodie. He is fled away whol­ly, and is departed wholly out of this world, without leauing a­ny thing of himselfe vpon the earth: and afterwards hauing made a little pause [Page 732] aboue vs, to clense him from those spots that were remaining in him, and to shake o [...]f the rust of this corruptible life, he hath beene carried to farre higher places, where he conuerseth with the happier soules, and hath beene entertai­ned by that holy company of Scipioes, Catoes, and others that haue contemned this life, and now enioy a full libertie by the benefit of death. There Martia thy father embraceth his nephew (although that there al be parents) ioyfull to see him enlightned with a great brightnesse, and teacheth him the courses of the neighbouring Starres, not by coniecture, but as one that is truely expert, and leadeth him willingly into the secrets of Nature. And as he that showeth the singularities of an vnknowne Citie, is an agreeable guest to that stranger that hath not seene them: so is this domesticall interpreter welcome to his nephew, that examineth the causes of celestiall things, and taketh delight to prie into the secrets of earth. The fiue and thirtieth, We ought not lamēt those, that with out comparis [...]n are more happie out of the wor [...]d, th [...] in the world. For he hath a singular contentment to behold from on high that which he hath left. Behaue thy selfe therefore in such sort, O Marcia, as if thou wert in the presence of thy father and thy sonne, now such as thou knowest them, but without comparison more excellent and highly raised. Be ashamed to estimate them, so as if they were in some abiect and contemptible estate, bewaile not them who are happie, and who haue attained through [...]ree and spacious fields to the place of eternitie. They are not hindered by enter­course of seas, neither by high mountaines, nor by deepe valleyes, nor by the dangerous straits and quicksands of the sea. Their way is easie euery where, they may change, and end them easily, the one teach the other, and are inter­mixed with the Starres.

CHAP. XXVI.

For conclusion and confirmati­on of all that whi [...]h is past [...] be­fore [...]e induceth Marciaes fa­th [...]r to discou [...]r the ioyes of th [...]se that are dead, and too Stoically speaketh he of the end of [...]he world. [...]augh at the absurdities, pitie his igno­rance, embrace the best. THinke then, O Marcia, that thy father (who before time had cre­dit with thee, as thou haddest with thy sonne) addressing him­selfe vnto thee, from the celestiall tower speaketh thus. But not with that thought wherewith he deplored the ciuill warres, and caused them euer to bee detested, who made vp the rowles of those who were proscribed, but with a sence as farre more cleare, as he is more highly raised. Daughter, why so long time remainest thou in discomfort? Why art thou so long time blinded in the ignorance of the truth? to thinke that thy sonne hath beene hardly dealt withall, in that being wearie of this life, he hath retired himselfe amongst his ancestors. Knowest thou not with what stormes Fortune disturbeth all things? how little fauour shee sheweth, except to those, who haue not in any sort frequented with her. Shall I recount vnto thee by name those Kings that should haue been most happy, if death had more maturely taken them from their instant euils? or those Roman Captains, who wanted nothing of their greatnesses, if somewhat had beene diminished of their yeares? or those noble and famous persons, who haue yeelded their neckes, and expected the stroake of their souldiers swords? Behold thy father and thy grand-father. The one fell into a murth [...]rers hand, that tooke away his life. I offered my selfe to no other mens hands, and forbearing my meate, made it knowne, with how great a minde I had written. Why is he so long time lamented in our house, who died most happily? We are altogether vnited to­gether, and see that you that are aliue are inuironed with profound darknesse. There is nothing amongst you that is to bee wished for, nothing excellent [Page 733] or worthy: but all things are humble, heauie, and incertaine: neither see you but a little parcell of our light. Shall I tell thee that [...]eere are no warres, nor battels fought by land or sea, that Parricides are neither imagined nor thought vpon here, that our Courts are not con [...]used with plea [...], bu [...] that our daies are perpetuall, that nothing is done in obscuritie, that our mindes are simple, our hearts open, our liues laid open to euery one, and that all ages and euents are manifest? I tooke delight to collect togeth [...]r all the aduentures of a whole age, in a corner and remote place of the world, and such act [...]ons as were attempted by a few. Now may I see so many ages, the course and carriage of so many yeares, and whatsoeuer time is past. Heere may I behold those Kingdomes that are rising, and those that [...]all to ruine, the ouerturne of mightie Cities, and new courses of the seas. For if it may yeeld thee any comfort to vnderstand the secrets of common destinie. I tell thee, that nothing that standeth shall con­tinue stedfast: age shall destroy and carrie away all things with it, and shall play her part not onely amongst men (for how slight a portion are they of Fortunes power?) but also in places, countries, and parts of the world. So many moun­tains shall she suppresse, and enforce others in another place: shee shall sup vp the seas, and turne riuers; and breaking of the commerce of Nations, shall dis­solue the societie of mankind. In other places she shall deuoure Cities with horrible yawning of the Earth, and shake them with Earth-quakes: shee [...] shall cause pestilent exhalations to arise from the earth, and shall couer the inhabited countries with deluges of water, killing euery creature, drowning the whole world, and with vast fires shall terrifie and burne all mortall men. And when the time shall come, that the world shall cease, to the end it may be renewed againe: these things shall beate and breake one another, and all things set on fire [...] all that which now shineth by an artificiall brightnesse, Stoicall conclu­sions, prayse God that hath giuen thee a better light. shall bee consu­med by one and the same fire. We also that are blessed soules and partaker [...] of eternitie, when it shall seeme good vnto God to warpe these things once againe, when all things shall be confounded; then we who are but a small part of this great ruine, shal returne into our ancient elements. O Mar­cia, how happie is thy sonne, who al­readie knoweth all these things.

The End of the Booke of Comfort.

OF CONSOLATION, WRITTEN BY LVCIVS ANNAEVS SENECA TO HIS MOTHER HELVIA.

The Argument of IVSTVS LIPSIVS.

THis Booke was written during the time of his exile, which was about the first yeare of CLAVDIVS raigne (in the yeare since the Citie was builded DCCXCIIII.) by the suggestion of impure MES [...]A­LINE. This publike Harlot obiected against him, that he had commit­ted adulterie with IVLIA GERMANICVS daughter, and charged SENECA therewith. Of this haue we spoken in his Life. Now therefore being banish­ed into Corsica, he comforteth his mother, and sheweth her how he broo [...]eth his misfor­tune constantly, and that she should doe no lesse. He wrote it not presently vpon the be­ginning of his exile, which the Preface testifieth, but the last of the first yeares, or the beginning of the second. But this wrote he now, when he was in the vigor and maturi­tie of his iudgement, being somewhat more then fortie yeares old. And therefore his writing is answerable, full of confidencie and eloquence. Perfect in stile and structure, and more orderly disposed then all the rest. I dare say it carrieth away the Palme from all other bookes. He maketh two heads of this his Consolation. Thou must neither be sorie [...]or my sake, nor for thine owne. Not for my sake, for none of those which the common sort repute for euils, as Change of place, Pouertie, Ignominie, Contempt, are euils, and thus orderly proueth he till the fourteenth Chapter. Neither must thou be sorie for thine owne sake, for there are two things that may af [...]lict thee, either because thou hast loct some helpe and comfort by me, or because thou canst not endure my want. The first belongeth not to thee, because thou art not ambitious, neither euer didst boast of the grace and power of thy children. Neither ought the other, because thou wert al­wayes constant aboue thy sex. Thou hast suffered many miseries, endure this. Imploy thy selfe in the studie of wisedome which will further thee. Turne thy selfe to my brothers, and of thy nephewes by them and mee, thou art not alone, nor leadest a solitarie life. This will both serue and delight thee. Turne thy selfe likewise to [Page 735] my sister, which will proue both a comfort and example vnto thee. And he concludeth his Booke with her praises.

CHAP. I.

I Haue alreadie oftentimes vndertaken this reso­lution (most dearest mother) to comfort thee, He proposeth di­uers reasons why he deferred to com [...]ort his mo­ther. and oftentimes haue I contained my selfe. Many considerations moued me thereunto. First, I sup­posed that I should despoile thee of all sorrow, i [...] being vnable as yet to suppresse thy teares, I should in the meane space wipe them away. Se­condly, I assured my selfe that I should haue more authoritie to excite thee, if first of all I had conformed and confirmed my selfe. Further­more, I was afraid that if I had not mastered Fortune, she would haue troden vnder foote some of those whom I most loued. I therefore endeuour howsoeuer, in laying my hand on mine owne wound, to creepe forward and binde vp yours: notwithstanding there were some things on the contrarie side that crossed this my resolution. I knew well that it be­houed me not at the first to encounter with thy sorrow, when it was most ve­hement, for feare lest my consolations should incense and afflict thee the more. For in infirmities and sicknesses, likewise there is nothing more pernicious, then vntimely remedies. I expected therefore, whilest thy sorrow had weakened and disheartned it selfe, to the end, that being mitigated and confirmed, by delay to sustaine remedies, it might suffer it selfe to be comforted and cured. Moreo­uer, after I had turned ouer all the monuments of those happie wits which they had composed to pacifie and moderate sorrow, I found not any example of such a man who had comforted his friends, when as he himselfe was bewailed by them. So then I remained perplexed in this new accident, and was afraid lest my endeuour, in stead of prouing a consolation, should become a renewing and cause of furth [...]r griefe. Besides this, had not that man need of new words, not borrowed from vulgar and ordinarie dis [...]ourse, that lifting his head from the Beere, should vndertak [...] to comfort his friends? But it cannot otherwise be, but that the greatnesse of a griefe that exceedeth all measure, should vtterly deface the ornament and choice of words, when as oft-time it stoppeth and cloaseth the mouth. Yet howsoeuer I will endeuour, not in respect of the confidencie I conceiu [...] in mine owne wit, but because I may serue for a most assured consola­tion, because I propose it my selfe. My hope is, that since thou wouldest vouch­safe me any thing that I should require, that thou wouldest doe me this fauour (although that all sorrow is rebellious) to suffer me to pre [...]ixe some limittes to thy discontent.

CHAP. II.

The summe of his discourse is, that since his mother hath ap­proued her selfe couragious and a conquerour in o­ther afflictions, she should not giue place to this. BEhold how much I vsurpe vpon thine indulgence. I doubt not but I shall be as powerfull with thee as thy griefe, which notwith­standing is a passion that wonderfully mastereth the afflicted; neyther will I suddenly attempt to charge him, I will first defend his cause, I will discouer all things whereby he is prouoked, and cut vp those things that are alreadie cured. Some man will say, What kinde of consolation is this, to reuiue long buried euils, and to discouer vnto the vnder­standing all his aduersities, that can scarcely endure the presence of one onely? But let this man thinke that those afflictions that are so crosse and pernicious, as they surmount their remedies, are oftentimes cured by their contraries. And therefore will I present sorrow with all her owne attendants, and will not make a palliatiue cure, but I will [...]eare and scarrifie: what shall I get by it? That thy inuincible spirit that hath ouer-mastered so many miseries may be ashamed to shrink at one wound in a body that hath so oftentimes bin cicatrized. Let them therefore weepe and mourne longer, whose delicate minds haue beene weake­ned by long felicitie, and are quickly d [...]iected vpon the motion of the slightest miseries, but let them who haue spent their whole yeares in calamitie, indure the most grieuous assaults, with a confident and vnmoueable constancy. This one good hath continuall infelicitie in it, that finally she hardneth those whom she tormenteth ordinarily. Fortune hath not giuen thee any intermission, but hath exercised thee in most grieuous sorrowes, nay, she hath not spared thee on the very day of thy birth. Thou diddest loose thy mother as soone as thou wert borne, nay, euen in thy very entrance into the world, and as soone as thou wert [...] as it were, abandoned to this life. Thou wert brought vp vnder thy step­dame, whom thou by all obsequiousnesse and pietie (as much as could be ex­pected from a naturall daughter) compelledst to be thy mother; yet none there is that hath not paide dearely to finde out a good stepdame. When thou expectedst the arriuall of thine vncle by the mother side, a man both vertuous and valiant, thou diddest loose him. And lest that fortune should make thy misfortune more slight by delay, a moneth after thou buriedst thy deerest spouse, by whom thou haddest three sonnes. In the height of thy sorrow these mournefull tidings were brought thee, euen then when thy children were ab­sent, as if all thy miseries had beene reserued till that time, to the end that thy sorrow might haue no meanes of reliefe or refuge. I passe ouer so many dan­gers, so many affrights that incessantly assaulted thee, and which thou hast en­dured. Into the same lap wherein before time thou hast dandled thy three little Nephewes, thou hast afterward entertained their dead bones. Twenty dayes after thou haddest solemnized the obsequies of my sonne, who died en­folded in thine armes, and attended by thy louing kisses, thou heardest the newes that I was banished. Thou wert as yet vnexercised to bewaile the liuing.

CHAP. III.

I Confesse that this later wound is one of the most grieuous that thou hast euer felt, That although this accident be grieuous, yet Heluias con­stancie so much approued before both can and may resist that. and that it hath not only scratcht of the skin, but hath pierced into the depth of thy breast and entrailes. But euen as yong Souldiers bemoane themselues ouer-much for a slight wound, and are as fearefull of the Phisitians hand as the Surgeons razor, where contrariwise they that are old Souldiers, although they are thrust thorow, doe patiently and without groning suffer their armes and legs to be cut off, as if their bodies were not their owne: so must thou now present thy selfe with a great courage to entertayne thy cure. Remoue from thy selfe these lamentations, these shrill shreeks and other immoderate howlings of dis­consolate women. For in vaine hast thou suffered so many miseries, if tho [...] hast not yet learned to be miserable. What thinkest thou that I deale too fearfully with thee? I haue taken none of thine euills from thee, but haue heaped them vp and laid them before thee. I haue done this resolutely, for I am resolued to ouer-come thy griefe, not to circumscribe it.

CHAP. IIII.

I Shall first of all get the vpper hand as I thinke, Senecaes in [...]ēt in this Treatise which [...]e distin­guisheth into two principall points. if I shall approue vnto thee that I suffer nothing, in respect whereof I might be cal­led wretched, and much lesse make other men wretched whom I touch. Secondly, if I shall passe ouer vnto thee and approue that thine accident which dependeth on mine is not grieuous. This first will I vn­dertake, which thy piet [...]e will be content to giue care to, that I haue no euill: and if I cannot approue this vnto thee, I will make it manifest, that these things wherewith thou thinkest me to be oppressed, are not intolerable. But if this may not be belieued, yet will I please my selfe the more, because I shall be hap­pie amongst those things which are wont to make others miserable. Thou art not to credit others in that which concerneth mee, I my selfe tell thee to the end thou maiest not be deluded by ill grounded reports, that I am not misera­ble; nay, I say further to secure thee more, that I cannot be miserable.

CHAP. V.

WE are first borne vnder a good condition, He entereth into the consideratiō of the former point, which con­cerneth himselfe, and sheweth that he is not mi­serable. First, nature hath taught vs to bee contented with a little. except wee forsake the same. Nature hath so disposed things, that to liue well, we haue no neede of great necessaries: euery man may make himselfe blessed. These externall things are but slight matters, and haue no great effect either in prosperitie or in aduersitie, neither doe the one of these raise a wiseman, neither doth the other depresse him. For hee hath alwaies endeuoured that his greatest goods should consist in himselfe, and the complement of his contents should bee resident in his heart. What then? say I that I am a wise man? no: for if I could freely speake it, I would not only denie that I was miserable, but contrariwise I would maintaine it boldly, that I was the most fortunate of all men, and would repute my selfe to be most neare­ly [Page 738] lodged by the Gods. For the present, which is sufficient, to mitigate all my miseri [...]s I haue wholly dedicated my selfe to wise-men, and being scarce able e­nough to assure and counsaile my selfe, I haue retired my selfe into another mans Campe, that is to say, amongst those who easily both defence themselues and their owne fortunes. They haue commanded me alwayes to stand addres­sed, as if I were enioyned to stand Sentinell, and to foresee all the assaults and attempts of fortune long before they assaile me. To them is fortune tedious whom she assaileth suddainly, and easily repulse they her, who continually ex­pect her. The enemies charge most in [...]tantly defeateth those whom they sud­denly set vpon: but they that before the battell haue prepared themselues for a future warre, being well arranged and in a readinesse, do easily sustaine the first assault, Secondly, no­thing h [...]th be­fa [...]ne him that he hath not fore [...]ee [...]e, be­ca [...]e he neuer giue c [...]ed [...]te to w [...]r [...]d [...]y p [...]ospe­ri [...]ie. which commonly is the most dangerous. I neuer gaue credite to for­tune, although she seemed to claime a truce at my hands: and as touching all those things which with a liberall hand she hath bestowed vpon me, such as are siluer, honours, and great credite, I haue put them in that place where she may fetch them, without eyther my discontent or preiudice. There was a great di­stance betwixt her and me, and therefore hath she carried them away from me, and not pulled them out of my [...]ands. No man hath aduersitie ouerthrowne, but him whom prosperitie hath deceiued. They that haue loued her presents as if they had beene perpetuall and properly theirs, who would haue them­selues respected by reason of the trifles; discomfort themselues incontinently, when these false and fraile delights abandon their [...]eeble and childish vnder­standings, Thir [...]ly, the goods of this world are not truely goods, and the euils are but apparantly euill. who know not what true pleasure is. But he that is not puffed vp with prosperitie, neyther restrained by aduersitie, hath an inuincible heart at all times, and an approued constancie in eyther fortune; for he knoweth well in his felicitie, that he can make head against mishap. I haue therefore alwayes had this opinion in those things which all men wish for, that there is no true goodnesse in them; nay more, I haue alwayes found that they were vaine and outwardly smoothed with a deceiueable glosse, but inwardly hauing nothing that is answerable to their exteriour resemblance. For in those things which we call euils I find nothing so terrible and hard as the common opinion threat­neth. The word it selfe by a certaine perswasion and consent, is now-a-dayes more distas [...]efull vnto the eares, and afflicteth those that heare the same, as if it were some heauy and execrable thing, for so will the people haue it: but men of wisedome doe for the most part disanull the ordinances of the people.

CHAP. VI.

He disput [...]th plen [...]ifull [...] of banishm [...]nt, and proueth that th [...]re is no e [...]ll ther [...]in, [...]nd tha [...] those euils wh [...]ch accompany the [...]me should not be called euils. LEauing apart therefore the iudgement of diuers men, which is ex­tinguished by the first appearances of things: howsoeuer they be beleeued, let vs consider what banishment is. It is the change of place. It may be thought that we seeme to lessen the same, and that we take from it all that is worst in it. This change of place is accompanied with the incommodities of pouerty, of ignominy, and contempt: against these hereafter I will combate. In the meane while I will first of all haue this looked into, which incommoditie this change of place breedeth. It is an intoll [...]rable thing to be depriued of a mans countrey. Behold this multitude which may hardly be contained within so many thousand houses of this Citie, the greatest part of this troupe wanteth their countrey; they are retired hither [Page 739] from their Hamlets, Colonies, and all the quarters of the world. Som are drawn hither by ambition, othersome by the necessitie of publique offices, some by Embassages enioyned them, other some are inuited for ryot sake, that hunteth after the opportunity of riches, and a [...]it place wherein to exercise their dissolu­tions; othersome are drawne with a desire of liberall studies; others with a de­light to haunt the Theaters; som [...] to visite their friends, others to make proofe of their industry, hauing gotten an ample meanes to make shew of their vertue; some haue brought their beautie to set it out to sale, oth [...]rsom their eloquence. All sorts of men resort hither, where both vertues and vices are highly prized. Command and cite euery one of these in person, and aske of euery of these whence he is; thou shalt see that for the most part of them they haue forsaken their country, to come and dwell in this spacious Citie, which notwithstanding is but a Citie, and not their owne. Againe, depart from this Rome, which may be called a common countrey of all men, and ouersee other Cities, and there is none of these wherein thou shalt not finde a greater part of forraine multitude But leaue thou these countries, and all those who for the pleasant situation of the place, are drawne to inhabite there, and goe into the desarts and desolate Isles, as those of Cithnon, Serephium, Giare, and Corsica. Thou shalt not finde any place of banishment, but that some one remaineth there for his pleasure. What place may a man finde more naked and craggie on euery side, then this mountainous Isle which I inha [...]ite? Is there any soyle more barren? Are any people more sauage? Is any situation of place more vnholsome, or are more displeasing and intemperate? Yet are there more strangers dwell here then those that are naturall, borne in that countrey. So little therefore is the change of place grieuous vnto men, that this Isle hath withdrawne some from their owne countrey. I finde some that will say that there is a certaine naturall desire in mens mindes to change their seats, and to transferre their houses. For man hath a moueable and vnsetled minde giuen him, he is neuer Master of himselfe, he is confused, he intrudeth his thoughts into all knowne and vnknown things, still stirring and neuer quiet, and best contented with the noueltie of things; which thou wilt not wonder at, if thou consider his first originall. The minde is not composed of a terrestriall and waighty matter, it is a parcell of the celesti­all spirit. But the nature of celestiall things is alwayes to be in motion; he fly­eth and is carried away with a most swift course. Behold the Planets that en­lighten the world, Whence it com­meth that men are so mutable. there is none of them that standeth still, but they incessantly turne, and daily change their places. Although they whirle about with the heauens, yet haue they their contrary motion. The Sunne runneth thorow all the signes of the Zodiaque, his motion is perpetuall, neyther remayneth hee at any time in one point. All things turne and passe without stay; and as the law and setled ordinance of nature hath determined, they are carried from one place to another: when as the celestiall bodies shall within certaine spaces of moneths and yeares, shape their course in their spheares, they shall renew the same. Goe therefore now and make thy selfe beleeue that humane vnderstan­ding composed of the same seeds that diuine things are, euer patiently endures a passage and change from place to place, since that God himselfe taketh plea­sure in a continuall and sudden motion, and maintaineth himselfe thereby. But withdraw thine eyes from these celestiall things, and behold these terrestriall and base things. Thou shalt see Nations and people change their seate: what meane these Cities, peopled with Graecians, euen in the very middest of barba­rous Nations? What meanes this Macedonian language amongst the Indians [Page 740] and Persians? Scithia and all that tract of fierce and vnconquered nations shew vs the Cities of Achaia, built vpon the shores of the Pontique sea. The conti­nuall colde and the strange and inflexible natures of those Nations more vni­ted then their ayre, could not hinder the Grecians from planting their Colo­nies there. There is a company of the Athenians in Asia, the city of Miletum hath peopled seuenty fiue Cities in diuers places: All that side of Italy that borde­reth vpon the lower sea, was the greater Greece. The Tuscans iss [...]ed from Asia, the Tirians planted themselues in Africa, the Africans in Spaine, the Greekes the France, and the French in Greece. The Perinean mountaines forbad not the Germanes [...]o passe onward, humane leuity led them by vnhanted and vnknown wayes. They drew with them their children, their wiues, and their parents lo­den with age. Some of these being wearied with long trauell, chose not their habitation by iudgement, but by reason of their wearinesse made choice of that they next met withall. Some maintained their possession by force of Arms; some in seeking out vnknowne Countries perished by sea; some planted their pauilions there where necessity commanded them; neither had they all of them the same cause of seeking out, and leauing their Country. Some of these after the ruine of their Cities, escaped from the fury of their enemies, haue by force made themselues Lords of other Cities, and haue driuen out the right owners. other some haue beene dispersed by ciuill warres, othersome when their Cities were ouer peopled, were mustered and sent away to other places, as superflu­ous. Some Nations haue beene driuen out of their habitations by the plague, or by often earthquakes, or by some insupportible incommodities of the terri­torie: and othersome haue beene allured by the bruit that ranne, that such or such a Country was farre more pleasant and fruitfull then their owne. Some others haue fo [...]saken their houses for diuers occasions. This then is euident that no one hath remained in the place where hee was borne, and that humane kinde ceaseth not to runne hither and thither. There is dayly some change in this so great a world. Heere some men lay the foundation of new Cities, there ariseth a new Nation, and the name of the olde is lost, and is made and becom­meth more great then any other. But what are all these transmig [...]ations of peo­ples but pub [...]ke banishment.

CHAP. VII.

WHy leade I thee in so great a Windelesse? What neede I specifie vnto thee Athenor that builded Padua? He proueth the change of place by these that first founded and peopled the Em­pire of Rome. or Euander that Planted the Kingdome of the Ar [...]adians vpon the bankes of Tiber? What should I tell thee of Diomedes, and so many others, who both vi­ctorious and vanquished, haue beene scattered by the Troian warre into so diuers Countries? Behold the founder of the Roman Empire, who being an Exile, a fugitiue, gathering together some few scattered souldiers with him after the lacke of Troy, constrained by necessity, and to warrant him­selfe from the hands of his victorious enemies, searched out forraine Countries and arriued in Italie. After all this, how many people hath hee sent in Colo­nies thorow out the Countries of the whole world? Wheresoeuer the Roman is Conquerour there dwelleth hee. To this change of places euery one wil­lingly subscribed his name, and the oldest forsaking their altars and fires, wil­lingly accompanied those that sought out other Countries beyond the Seas.

CHAP. VIII.

THe matter requireth not much example, A second proo [...]e by the inhabi­tants of the Isle whereinto he was banished. I will onely adde that which I know to bee ordinary, the Isle where I am hath changed the inhabitants diuers times. But wee ought not to insist vpon those histories which antiquity hath buried. The Greekes them­selues, who at this time inhabit Marsilles, had before time made their abode in this Isle. No man knoweth who draue them thence, whether it were the ayre which is vnpleasant, or the feare they had of Italy, which is the Mistrisse of the world, which is more neighbour to the Isle, or because there is dangerous landing at it. That the naturall fiercenesse of Islanders was not the cause it appeareth, because these Greekes went and intermixed themselues with the French, a cruell nation, and who at that time knew no ciuility: A none after these of the Coast of Genes came hether, the Spaniardes likewise, which appeareth by their resemblance in manners, and the behauiour both of the one and the other; for their head attire is the same, and their shooes, such as the bordering Spaniard vse; they retaine likewise some wordes of their language, hauing forgot their mother tong by reason of the conuersation they haue had with the Greekes and Genowayes. After these Marcius caused a Colony of Romane Citizens to bee sent thither, and Scilla an other. See here how often­times one barren, The third in all the estates of the world. Priuiled­ges which exile cannot take from vs. cragged and mountainous Conntry hath changed inhabi­tants. In briefe, thou shalt not finde one Angle of the earth that a man may say it was manured by the homebred Countrymen of that place. All are mix­ed, transported and translated from one quarter to another. One people hath succeeded an other. One Nation hath desired to dwell there which an other hath dispeopled. That other haue been driuen from that place whence they ex­pulsed others. So hath it pleased the Destinies, that nothing should alwayes re­maine firme and continue in one place. Varro the most learned man amongst the Romanes, thinketh this a sufficient remedy, that wheresoeuer we become, wee account it the same world. Marcus Brutus thinketh this sufficient for those that are banished to carry their vertues with them. If any one thinketh that these two expediments considered apart, haue little power to comfort a banished man; hee will confesse that these two together may doe very much. For that which wee haue lost, deserueth it to bee called any thing? Two the most excellent priuiledges, A doubtfull opi­nion of Seneca, as touching the Deity, and his ordinary Para­dox, tying, the first cause which i [...] God to secondary causes, reade here with aduice. that is to say, common nature, and our proper ver­tue will follow vs in eu [...]ry place wheresoeuer wee fixe our foot. Belieue who­soeuer hath created this vniuers, whether it be that Almighty God, whether it be incorporall reason, that Workmaster of great things, whether it be a demy spirit, equally extended and spred amidst all great and small Creatures, whether it be Destiny, and this immutable succession of things enchained the one with­in the other: such a one hath caused that no things (except they be things most abiect and of little worth) are not out of our power. All that which is good in man, is not subiect to humane power and violence, which neither can giue it, or take it away. Nature hath created this world which is the greatest and fairest thing that a man may see, But as touching the soule that contemplateth and admireth the world, whereof she is the most excellentest part, she is proper vn­to vs, shee is perpetuall and shall continue so long with vs, as wee continue [...]et vs goe forward therefore willingly and confidently, whethersoeuer our for­tune leadeth vs; let vs march forward with a confident pace.

CHAP. IX.

An other notable consideration in exile is, that the whole worlde is a mans country LEt vs trauell ouer what countries soeuer wee will, and wee shall finde no Country in this world that is not accessible by a man. On what soeuer side wee addresse our eyes towardes heauen; these things that are diuine are separated from those that are humane by equall distance: so then prouided that mine eyes bee not hinde­red from beholding the heauens, as long as it shall bee lawfull for mee to be­holde the Sunne and Moone, and to consider neerely the other celestiall bo­dies, their risings, settings and distances: Search out the causes why the one haue more swifter motions then the other; behold so many shining starres by night, the one fixed, the other shaping a short course, and retiring into their Spheares, some appearing sodainely, others blemishing the eye with their spa­tious clearenesse, as if they would fall; others flying with a long tract, and great light. As long as I shall behold these things, and exercise my selfe amidst these celestiall troupes, as much as is lawfull for a mortall man, and if I haue alwaies my mind lifted vp on high in contemplation of those things that concerne the same, what care I vpon what ground I tread? But this land wherein thou liuest is not fertile, neither beareth it shadowie trees it is not watered by the currents of great and nauigable riuers, it bringeth forth nothing that other Countries might seeke after; scarsly is it able to sustaine the inhabitants: no precious stone is cut here, no veines of golde or siluer are digged out of it. Base is that mind that taketh pleasure in terrestriall things; to those things must hee be addressed which euery way appeare equally, and euery where shine equally, and this is he to thinke, that the goods of this world through the false opinion that men haue conceiued of their firmity, doe but obscure and hinder the true goods. The more they enlarge the walkes and porches of their houses, the more high they raise their turrets, the more larger they extend their streetes, the more deeper they digge their caues and summer retreats, the more higher they rayse the roofes and [...]eelings of their dining Chambers, the more they hide the heauens from themselues. An accident hath driuen thee into a certain Country, where in [...]eade of a Pallace thou hast but a little Cabbin, truely thou hast but a weake minde, and such as i [...] comforted with base delights, if therefore thou endure this patiently, because thou knowest Romulus his cottage. Rather say thus, whatsoeuer the house bee, it is bigge enough to entertaine vertues. Then will it bee more faire then all the Temples when iustice shall bee scene there, when continency, when prudence, piety, the meanes how to discharge him­selfe of his duety, and the knowledge of diuine and humane things. No place is too straight that entertaineth this troupe of so great vertues, no banishment is grieuous, wherin a man may march in such cōpany [...] Brutus in that booke which hee wrote of vertue, saith; That hee saw Marcellus that was ba [...]ished into Miti­lene, and as farre as humane nature permitted, liuing most blessedly, neuer more desi­rous of the knowledge of good letters then at that time: hee therefore added, that hee in departing from him, rather thought that hee went into banishment, who was to re­turne backe againe without him, then that hee left him an exile. O farre more hap­py Marcellus at that time when hee approued his banishment to Brutus, then when he iustified his Consulat to the people of Rome. How great a man was he, who brought to passe that, that man should seeme abanished man in his own iudgement, in departing from him that was an exile. The same Brutus sayth, [Page 743] that C [...]s [...]r passing along by Mitele [...]e, would not onely enter into the same, be­cause he [...] could not endure to behold a deformed man. The Senate by mu­tuall supplica [...]ion obtained Marcellus re [...]ocation, so pensiu [...] and sad were they, that a man would haue said at that time, that euery one of them had Bru­tus soule, and besought not for Marcellus but for themselues, for feare least be­ing without him, it should proue a true banishment, yet more attained he that day when Brutus was sorry to leaue him an exile, and Caesar to see him: for by this meanes he had a testimony from them both. Brutus was sorry to returne without Marcellus, Caesar was ashamed; doest thou doubt that this so worthie a man did not encourage himselfe to endure his banishment with a quiet mind in these or such like words? It is no misery for thee that, thou wantest thy Country: so hast thou informed thy selfe with good letters, Notable consi­derations to pa­cifi [...] the fury of exile, worthily set downe vnder the person of, Marcellus. that thou knowest that euery place is a Wisemans Country. And what shall wee say of him that hath banished thee? hath hee not beene out of his Country for the space of ten whole yeeres? Vndoubtedly it was to the end to encrease the Romane Empire, yet was he absent so long. And now behold A­frica draweth him vnto her, being replenished with the alarums of a threatning war. Spaine recalleth him that repaireth the broken and dispersed troupes of Pompey, per­fidious AEgypt calles him forth, and in conclusion the whole world which is intent vpon this occasion of the shaken Empire. Wh [...]ther shall he march first, against what par­ty shall hee first oppose himselfe. His victory shall driue him thorow all the countries in the world. Let all Nations reuerence and serue him, as for thy selfe finish thy dayes with this content, that tho [...] art much esteemed by Brutus. Constantly therefore did Marcellus endure his exile, neither did the change of place any waies change his mind, although he were pressed with pouerty, wherein there is no euill, as that man knoweth very well, when auarice and dissolution (which ouerturne all things,) haue not as yet ouerturned his vnderstanding. For how little is it, that is necessary for a mans entertainement? hath a vertuous man need of this or that? For mine owne part I finde that I am dispossessed of many incumbran­ces, and not of my goods. The desires of those things whereof the body stan­deth in need are short, hee demandeth no more but a couering to defence him against the colde, and mea [...]e and drinke to extinguish his hunger and thirst. All that a man desireth besides these, serueth but to entertaine excesse, and hath no true vse. It is not necessary to [...]ound all depthes, nor to murther so many beastes to fill the belly, nor to goe and fish for Oysters in forraine and vnknown seas: The Gods and Goddesses may destroy those men, whose dissolution hath exceeded the bounds of the Romane Empire so much enuied. They will haue the fowle of their ambitious Kitchens taken and brought from beyond the [...]loud Phasis, which is in the further part of Asia, and are not ashamed to send for their dainties from the Parthians: from whome as yet wee haue not de­manded recompence for the wrongs they haue done vs. They bring from all places that which they know is proper to enkindle these gluttons appetites: that which these decayed stomackes will hardly disgest, bei [...]g glutted with too ma­ny dainties, is brought from the farthest Ocean: they vomit to the end they may eate, they eate to the end they may vomit: they take not time to disgest those dainty morsels which they search through the whole world. If a man dis­pise these delicacies, what wrong doth hee to pouerty? if a man desire them, pouerty likewise profiteth him. Some there are that are not healed but against their wils, and if a poore man being depriued of these dainties, ceaseth not to wish for them, yet vndoubtedly when hee cannot [...] hee is like to him that will not. Catus Caesar whom Nature as I thinke brought into this world to shew [Page 744] what great vices might doe in a great and worldly prosp [...]ritie, spent at one only supper the summe of two hundreth and fiftie thousand crownes, and being herein assisted by the wits of his best belly-gods, yet scarcely found he how he might consume in that one repast all the reuenue of three Prouinces. O mise­rable men whose pallats are not pleased but with precious dainties, which are made precious, not by reason of their excellent sauour or any sweetnesse they yeeld the taste, but by reason of their raritie and cunning in dressing. Other­wise if they would awaken themselues neuer so little what neede they so many arts to entertaine their bellies? what neede they such traffiques, such desola­tion of woods, such fishing of Seas and Riuers? Nature hath furnished in all places sufficient meat for our bodies. But these Countries and places like blinde men they passe ouer, and trauell through all Nations, and saile all Seas, and when as they may satisfie their hunger with a little, they prouoke the same with much.

CHAP. X.

IT pleaseth me to aske: Why rig you and lanch you your ships? Why arme you your hands both against wilde beasts and men? A [...]ontinuation of his inuectiue against intem­perance. why runne you hither and thither so tumultuously? why heape you riches vpon riches? will you not thinke how litle your bodies are? Is it not a desperate furie and extreme folly when as thou canst hold so little, to desire so much? Although therefore you increase your rents, and enlarge the bounds of your lands, yet shall you neuer make your bo­di [...]s greater. When your traffique hath beene prosperous, your warfare hath brought home rich spoiles, when all the dainties you haue sought for from all places are gathered together: where will you bestow all this prouision? why heape you vp so many things? The frugalitie and prosperitie of the ancient Romans. vndoubtedly your ancestors whose vertues at this time sustayne your vices were vnhappie, who prepared their meat with their owne hands, whose bed was the earth, whose houses as yet shined not with gold, whose temples as yet shined not with precious stones. In these daies they sware religiously by Gods made of earth, and those that had sworne by such Images returned to the enemie with resolution to die, to the end they would not violate their plighted Faith. By this accompt lesse blessedly liued our Dictator who gaue audience to the Embassadours of the Samnites, at such time as he dressed his homely victuals by the fire with his owne hands. Yea such hands as had alreadie oftentimes defeated the Enemie, and put the c [...]owne of Laurell in the lap of I [...]piter Capitoline. Better then Apicius liued in our me­morie, who in the same Citie out of which sometimes Philosophers were com­manded to depart, as if corrupters of youth, made profession of the science of gourmandise, and infected the whole age with his discipline, whose death it shall not be amisse to consider and know. After he had gathered together into his Kitchin the summe of two millions and a halfe in gold, after hee had in his particular banquets consumed all the presents that were giuen him by Princes, and the great reuenue of the Capitoll, finding himselfe very much in debt, he beganne at that time to consider in what estate his affaires stood, and finding that there remained as yet the summe of two hundreth and fiftie thousand crownes, supposing that it was too litle, and that he should be in danger to die for hunger, he killed himselfe by poison. How great was his dissolution that [Page 745] thought himselfe poore hauing two hundreth and fiftie thousand crownes? Goe now and thinke that the measure in monie and not in minde, is pertinent to the matter.

CHAP. XI.

APICIVS made small reckoning of two hundreth and fiftie thou­sand crownes, Hauing suffici­ently detested intemperance, he proueth a­gaine that euery Countrie hath enough in it selfe to nourish him that inhabiteth the same. The desire of worldly goods is insatiable. and that which other men desire with wishes, he droue away by poison. But to a man of so depraued a minde, that last potion was the most holsommest. Then eate hee and drunke he poison, when as he was not only delighted with im­measurable banquets, but gloried therein: when he bragged of his vices, when as he had drawne the whole Citie into admiration of his riot, when as hee had incited the youth (who of themselues are apt enough to follow euill examples) to follow and imitate him. This is the end of those men who keepe no mea­sure in the vse of worldly goods, which notwithstanding haue their bounds, but abuse and follow euill customes, that hath no limit or rule but his vnbridled wil. Couetousnesse thinketh no thing enough, nature is sufficed with a very little. Is pouertie then no incommoditie to those that are banished? none; for there is no exile so miserable that is not fertile enough to nourish one man. Should not a banished man couet a gowne or a lodging? if hee desireth them only for vse, hee shall neither want house or cloathing: for the body is couered with as little as it is nourished. Nature hath made euery thing easie which shee knew necessarie for a man. If he wish for a furre gowne of purple embroidered with gold, composed of diuers colours, and after a rich fashion, hee is poore by his owne default, and not by the rigour of aduersitie. Restore vnto such a man all that hee hath lost, yet shalt thou doe nothing for him, because hee shall want more of that which he desireth thee, a banisht man wanteth of all that which he hath had. If he coueteth a Cubberd garnished with vessell of gold, siluer cups of great price, because that long agoe they were laboured by cunning workmens hands, medals made precious by a few mens madnesse, and a troupe of Seruants so great that the house (which otherwaies is spacious) is vnable to containe them; a goodly stable furnished with many fat and gallant Horses, marbels, and other stones of price, brought from all the corners of the World. Let a man gather vp together as many of these things as he can, yet will they neuer satisfie an vnsatiable minde: no more then all the water in the world is not sufficient to quench his thirst, that desireth to drinke not to satisfie his neces­sitie, but to extinguish the heat proceeding from the inflammation of his en­trailes. For this is no thirst but a sicknesse: neither hapneth this only in monie, but in meate also. This is the nature of euery desire that proceedeth from er­rour, not from want: all whatsoeuer thou shalt heape vp will but serue to in­flame him, not to satisfie him. He then that containeth himselfe within a natu­rall measure will haue no sence of pouertie, Mediocritie on the contrarie side is alwaies, and euery where content. but he that exceedeth this medio­critie in midst of his greatest riches shall alwayes finde that pouertie attendeth him. The most solitarie and barren places suffice those that content them­selues with necessarie things but they that desire superfluity haue neuer enough although they had whole Kingdomes. It is the minde that maketh men rich, he it is that accompanieth them in exile and in the desart, where finding suffi­cient to maintaine his bodie he hath goods in aboundance, and enioyeth them [Page 746] contentedly. Mony appertaineth nothing to the mind, no more then all those things which vntrained minds, and too much addicted to their bodies so much affect, Why vertuous men cannot loue the goods of this world. concerne the immortall Gods. Precious stones, gold, siluer, great tables well garnished are but earthly burthens, which a sincere minde, and such as is no [...] forgetfull of his nature cannot loue, because it is alwayes light, and will mount as high as heauen as soone as he findeth the gate open; in the meane while, and in as much as these bonds of the body, and masse of the flesh which inuironeth the same will permit, vpon the wings of a suddain and swift thoght he visiteth and raiseth celestiall things. And therefore a free-man that is allied to the gods, as great as this world, or time, can neuer be banished: for his thought circleth the heauens, and examineth both time past and that which is to come. This fraile body, the fetters and giues of the soule, is tossed hither and thither, punishments, thefts, and sickenesses are exercised vpon it. As for the minde, it is sacred and eternall, and hands cannot be laide vpon it.

CHAP. XII.

The fourth fruit of exile and po­uertie is, that it hath no care or torment of mind, and con­trariwise, the rich a [...]e poore for the most part of their liues. NEyther thinke thou that to lessen the incommodities of pouertie (which no man feeleth to be grieuous except he that supposeth it) that I vse only the precepts of Philosophy: first, consider how great the number of poore men is, whom notwithstanding thou shalt not see more pensiue or carefull then the rich; contrariwise, I dare almost auow it, that they are more ioyfull, because their mindes are lesse distracted by affairs. Let vs ouer-passe the poore, and com vnto the rich: In the greatest part of their life resemble they not poore men? If men would trauaile they scantle their burthens, and trusse vp their packes, and as often as necessitie requireth them to make more hast, they ouergoe the troupe of their compani­ons. They that follow the warres, for the most part carry none of their neces­saries with them, because that militarie discipline permitteth them not to car­rie much luggage. Besides this condition of time, and incommoditie of places, which equalleth them with the poore; sometimes they are so glutted with their riches, that some dayes they will content themselues to suppe vpon the grasse, and will command their vessels of golde and siluer away, and content themselues to be serued in platters and vessels of earth: mad and vnaduised they alwayes feare that which they couet sometimes. What cloude of errour, and what ignorance of truth shaddoweth these men, which auoyde that which they imitate to yeelde them pleasure? For mine owne part, as often as I consi­der the life of our ancestors, I blush and dare not vse the solace that pouerty gi­ueth me, because that dissolution hath gotten so great a head in this time, that at this day banished men haue a greater viaticum, and more commodities then great Princes patrimonie and reuennues came to in times past. Diuers exam­ples of the tem­perance of our ancestors. See Titus Liui­us in his second booke and eigh­teenth chapter: Valerius Ma­ximus in his fourth book and fourth Chapter. It is well known that Homer had but one seruant, Plato three, and that Zeno the author of that seuere and manly wisedome of the Stoickes had none at all. If any one will therfore say that they liued miserably, wil not he think himselfe a catiue & mi­serable, by reason of this his false opinion? Menenius Agrippa, who made a peace betwixt the Senate and the Romane people, that were ready to assaile one ano­ther, was buried at the common charge. Attilius Regulus after hee had ouer­throwne the Carthaginians in Africa, wrote vnto the Senate that his husband­man was dead, by reason whereof his lands were vnmanured, whereupon the [Page 747] Senate tooke order as long as Regulus was absent. So much was it to him that he had not a seruant, that the Common-weale of Rome became his husband­man. Scipio's daughters were married at the Citties charge, because their father had left them nothing. Truely there was great reason why the people of Rome should pay tribute vnto Scipi [...] once, when as they exacted a tribute from Carthage alwayes. How happy were the husbands of these daughters, who had the Romane people for their fathers in lawe? Thinkest thou them more happy, whose daughters after they had played in the Theatres, had twentie thousand crowns to their marriage, then Scipio was, who from the Senate their Tutor, haue receiued some small summe of money for their dowry? What man is he that dare disdaine pouertie, that hath so worthy examples? Would a banished man complaine that he wanted this or that, when as Scipio had no money to marry his daughters? Regulus was without a husbandman, Menenius had need of friends to pay for his funerals; and considering that all that which was wanting to those worthy men, hath beene more plentifully ministred vnto them then they had need; so then such Patrons not onely make pouertie se­cure, but also gratious.

CHAP. XIII.

TO this it may be answered, An obiection, that ignominy annexed with pouerti [...] is a thing very odious Why so artificially discoursest thou on these things, which considered apart may be maintained, but if they be compared cannot? Change of place is tolerable if thou onely change thy place: pouertie is tolerable, if ignominy be ta­ken from it, the which alway is wont to oppresse mens mindes. To him who would terrifie me with a troupe of euils, thus would I answer; If thou haue force enough against euery part of fortune; the like mayest thou haue against all. When vertue hath once hardned the mind she maketh him in­vincible. If auarice dismisse thee, which is the most violent plague of mankind, ambition will neuer leaue thee at rest. His opinion [...] touching death, proceeding from the ignorance of the fall of the first man. If thou beholdest thy last houre, not as a punishment, but as a lawe of nature, into that breast whence thou hast driuen the feare of death, there is no feare of any thing that dare enter. If thou think­est that the honest desires of marriage, was not allotted man to feed his lust, but to encrease his family. He that is not violated with this secret mischiefe infixed in his bowels, euery other desire will ouerpasse and touch him not. Reason not onely ouerturneth vices one after another, but all of them together: she fight­eth at once, and ouercommeth the enemie at one stroake. Thinkest thou that a wise-man that is grounded in vertue, and estranged from vulgar opinions is shaken by ignominie? Death is more ignominious then one simple ignominie; yet Socrates with the same countenance and resolution entered the prison, wherewith he in times pastalone brought the thirti [...] tyrant [...] into order, and tooke the ignominie from the place by his entry: Examples to confirme hi [...] answer. for that could not seeme to be a prison wherein Socrates was lodged. What man is he so brutish, that will say or thinke that Marcus Cato was disgraced, at such time as he demanded the Praetorship, and afterwards the Consulate? It was a disgrace both to the Prae­tor and Consulate who were honoured by Cato. No man can be despised by an­other man, except he first be contemned by himselfe. An humble and abiect minde becommeth subiect to this contumely; but whosoeuer encourageth himselfe against these terrible accidents, and ouercommeth those euils where­with [Page 748] other hearts are ouerturned, reputeth his afflictions to be his ornaments. When we are thus affected, that nothing moueth more admiration in vs then to see a man couragious in his miseries. Aristides was sent by the Athenians, and commanded to be put to death, who made all those hang downe their head [...] and mourne that saw him in that estate, not as if they had executed a iust man, but iustice her selfe; yet was there one amongst them that spit in his face: this might he haue taken heauily, because he knew that no man that had modestie would haue done it, yet wiped he his face, & smilingly beheld the Magistrates, and said thus, Admonish this man, that hereafter he open not his mouth so vncleanely. This were enough to humble outrage it selfe. I know that some will reply, that nothing is so hardly dis-jested as contempt, and that death seemeth more plea­sing then the same. To these I answere, that oftentimes exile is exempted from these incommodities. If a man of note fall vpon the ground, yet is he alwayes the same, and as great; neyther is contemned any more, then when as the ruin [...] of sacred Temples are troad vpon, which as well both the religious as the stan­ders by doe adore. Thou canst not therefore finde any want of thy sonne that is taken from thee, whom during his aboade with thee, thou neuer thoughtest to appertaine vnto thee.

CHAP. XIIII.

He now cōmeth to the second point of his d [...]s­course, the scope whe [...]of, is, that H [...]luia in re­gard of her selfe, hath not any oc­casion to torment her selfe for the absence of her sonne, and that for two principal causes. SInce, most deere mother, thou hast not any occasion in respect of me to afflict thy selfe thus continually, there must be therefore some particular considerations that presse thee thus. But these are two; for eyther thou tormentest thy selfe because thou thin­kest that thou hast lost some stay, or because thou canst not en­dure the sorrow thou sustainest. I will slightly touch the first consideration; for I know that thy heart loueth nothing in thy children but themselues. Let those mothers, who by their indiscretion breede much discontent in their chil­dren that are growne in credite, consider what they doe. Being vnable to exe­cute publique charges, they shew themselues ambitious by their children [...] they embezzill and spend their reuennues, and by their bables breake their heads who are constrained to giue eare vnto them. But for thine owne part thou hast greatly reioyced at the goods that haue befalne thy children, which thou hast neuer had a part of. Thou hast alwayes restrained our liberalitie, when thou hast had no power of thine owne: thou being but the daughter of a family, hast not forborne to bestow thy fauours plentifully vpon thy children that were rich: thou hast administred the goods that our father left vs, as if they had beene thine own, and hast beene as sparing of them as if thou haddest had them to restore them to some strangers: thou hast spared our credite as if thou haddest been to employ such a one that were no wayes allied vnto thee: our estates and honours were but a charge and pleasure to thee, and thou neuer diddest respect vs to enrich thy selfe: thou canst not therefore want thy sonne that is taken from thee, who in his safetie neuer thoughtest that he appertained vnto thee.

CHAP. XV.

ALL my consolation must be aimed to withstand that, To remedie his mothers sorrow, the better he spe­cifieth the par­ties, and appliet [...] diuers remedies. whence the true force of thy motherly sorrow doth arise. I want the embra­ces of my deare child, I cannot see him, I cannot deuise with him. Where is he, by whose sight I redeemed my sorrow, to whom I communicated al my discontents? Where are his discourses, wher­with I could not satisfie my selfe? Where are his studies, which I entertained more willingly then a woman, more familiarly then a mother? Where is this meeting, wherein the sonne shewed himselfe ioyfull to behold his mother? Thou wilt adde hereunto the very places where I was wont to reuerence thee, to drinke and eate with thee: the place likewise, whereas we met the last time, which cannot but haue great efficacie to afflict the minde. For this likewise did Fortune most cruelly complot against thee, because that when thou wert se­cure, and fearedst no such matter, she dared to assault thee three dayes before I was strucken. We had before times beene fitly separated by distance of places, and our absence during some yeares, had as it were, disposed thee to this affli­ction: thou camest backe againe vnto me, not to enioy any pleasure or content­ment by thy sonne, but to the end thou mightest not lose the good to conuerse and communicate with him. Haddest thou beene separated from him long time before, this assault had not so much vexed thee, because the distance of time might haue asswaged thy sorrowes: if thou haddest not beene seuered from him, thou haddest endured thy losse more contentedly, because thou had­dest enioied this last fruit to be yet two daies in thy sons companie. But cruel de­stinie hath carried the matter in such sort, that thou foundest me not at Rome at such time as I was banished, and arriuedst there in [...]ontinently afterwards, to receiue the more griefe, because I was then vpon departure. But the more fu­rious these assaults are; the more oughtest thou to call thy better resolued ver­tue to assist thee, and to fight more confidently with thine enemie, which is sufficiently knowne vnto thee, and that heretofore hath beene diuers times de­feated by thee. This blood of thy present affliction, is not the first that thou hast lost, thy precedent wounds, as yet vnhealed, haue beene renewed a­gaine.

CHAP. XVI.

THou oughtest not to alleage in thine excuse, He confirmeth her by the consi­deration of other wom [...]ns infirmi­ties. that thou art a wo­man, which is almost permitted to weepe her fill, and yet ought there to be some measure. And therefore our Ancestors allowed them ten moneths space to bewaile their husbands, and in limi­ting in this sort by their publike ordinance this obstinate sadne [...] of women, they pretended not to hinder their teares, but to bring them to some end. For it is a foolish and vnbridled affection in any one to torment himselfe incessantly, for the death of another whom he loueth. As contrariwise not to be moued, is to be reputed to haue a heart both obdurate and inhumane. The best meane that we can obserue betwixt pietie and reason, is to feele some re­morse, and afterwards to extinguish the same. There is no reason thou shoul­dest build vpon certaine women, that hauing once begunne to entertaine sor­row, [Page 750] neuer giue it ouer till death hath made an end of them. Thou hast knowne diuers, that hauing lost their sonnes, haue neuer afterwards put off their mour­ning garments. The constancie that thou hast alwayes shewed heretofore, re­quireth somewhat more at thy hands. Such a one as in times past hath appro­ued it to all men, that she was deliuered from all feminine imperfections, can­not alleage for her excuse, that she is a woman. Impudicitie, one of the most greatest euils that raigne in our time, hath not entangled thee amongst diuers others: pearles and precious stones haue not tempted thee, riches, which are esteemed the greatest good in this world, haue not bewitched thine eyes, the dangerous examples wherewith the wickeder sort seduce the best haue not di­stracted thee, thou that hast beene well brought vp in a Noble and well ordered Familie, art not ashamed to haue beene fetile, and the mother of diuers chil­dren: as if thou wert vpbraided thereby that thou art old. Neuer hast thou ac­cording to the custome of diuers other women, which desire nothing more then to be reputed bewtifull, hidden thy grossenesse, as if it had beene an vnfit­ting burthen, neither hast thou made away the fruit of thy wombe, which thou thoughtest thou haddest receiued. Thou hast neuer painted thy selfe, nor taken any pleasure to weare such garments as might discouer thy naked skinne. Modestie is the onely ornament which thou hast esteemed to be most fitting, most seemely, and such as cannot bee indemnified by age. So then thou canst not to the end thou mayest obtaine licence to weepe; pretend the name of a woman, because thy vertues haue separated thee from that ranke. So farre oughtest thou to be estranged from the teares of this sex, as thou art from their imperfections. Women likewise themselues will not permit thee to c [...]nsure and submit thy selfe to thy sorrow: but hauing suffered thee to weepe a little, and as much as need requireth, they will make thee rise vp, especially if thou wilt behold those women, who for their excellent vertues, haue beene numbred a­mongst the most famous men. He animateth her by worthie examples. Fortune reduced Cornelia, the mother of twelue children, to that passe, that shee had onely two remaining: if thou wouldest count those she had buried, they were ten, if thou wilt estimate them she had lost, the Gracchi, yet expressely forbad she those that wept about her, and cur­sed that vnhappie aduise to accuse Fortune in any sort, which had giuen her the Gracchi to her sonnes. By this woman should he be bred, who said vnto a certaine person that declamed before the people: Speakest thou euill of my mo­ther that bare mee? But the mothers speech, in my iudgement, is more coura­gious. The sonne made high reckoning of the birth of the Gracchi, the mother of their deathes. Rutillia followed her sonne Cotta into exile, and her loue to­wards him was so entire, that shee had rather endure exile then his want; nei­ther returned she backe againe into her Countrey, before she returned with her sonne. After his returne, and at such time as her sonne was ra [...]sed to the grea­test honors: she bare his death as constantly as she had followed him couragi­ously; and no man could euer marke that she let one teare fall from he [...] eyes af­ter he was enterred. She made proofe of her vertue at such time as she was ba­nished, and of her wisdome, when death drew him out of this world [...] Nothing hindered her from shewing her selfe charitable, and nothing detained her in a sottish and superfluous sorrow. My desire is that thou shouldest be numbered amongst such women, Afterwards he counselleth her to conquer, and not to disguise her passions. and because thou hast alwayes imitated their life, bee thou continuallie most studious and carefull to follow their example, and to represse and suppresse thy sorrow. I know that the matter is not in our power, and that there is no passion that will bee moderated, and especially not that [Page 751] which proceedeth from griefe [...] for it is fierce and rebellious against all remedy [...] yet will wee in the meane time that it master and swallow vp sorrowes, and yet notwithstanding permit we teares to streame along a counterfeit and concea­led countenance: wee will endeauour to exercise the mind in sports, or in see­ing the Sword-players skirmish; but amidst all these spectacles that shall de­taine the same, wee are content that a light touch of griefe shall shake the same. It is far better to ouercom the passion then to abuse it: for sorrow withdrawn by the pleasures of this world, or beguiled by occupations relieueth himselfe, and by the meanes of repose gathereth more greater forces, and [...]misheth after­wardes more confidently. But the mind that giueth place to reason, attaineth a perpetuall repose. But I will not teach thee th [...]se remedies which I know di­uers other shaue vsed, namely that thou shouldest passe the time in some long voyage, or that thou shouldest sport thy selfe in places of pleasure, or tha [...] [...]hou shouldest employ many daies in carefully ouerlooking how thy affaires are ca­ried, and to order thy reuenew, or in short that thou shouldest entangle thy selfe alwaies in so me new affaires. All these things profite for a short moment, and are not remedies, but delayes of sorrow. For mine owne part I had rathe [...] thou shouldest cease then deceiue thy griefe. I will therefore lead thee the [...]her whe­ther all they ought to haue recourse, A principall re­medy in foolish and vnbrideled passions to haue recourse to Philosophy, whereunto he exhorteth his mother. who flie from fortune, that is to Philoso­phy, which wil [...] heale thy wound, & plucke out all sorrow from thy mind. Thogh hitherto thou [...]ast neuer addicted thy selfe thereunto, yet now must thou doe it; but thou ha [...] not studied all the liberall sciences, tho [...] hast onely tasted so much as the ancient seuerity of my father permitted thee. I could haue wished that my Father (one of the best men in the world) had beene lesse addicted to the fashions of [...]ur ancestors, and that hee would [...]aue permitted the [...] seriou­sly to bee instructed in Philosophy, and not sleightly: now then shouldest thou not haue neede to pr [...]pare a remedy against Fortune, but thou shouldest bee exercised therein. As for these that vse good letters, not for wisdome [...]alle, but rather for ostentation and pride, for their cause hee suffe [...]ed thee the lesse to follow thy studies, but by reason of the pregnant witte thou hast apprehended more in a little ti [...]e then could bee expected. The foundations of all sciences are laide in thee. Returne now vnto these, and they will make thee secure these will comfort the [...], these will delight thee, these if they enter thy mind in good earnest; Particular re­medies. He re­quireth her to consider [...]er o­ther children that continue with her, and de­scribeth the be­nefites and plea­sures shee enioy­eth by their pre­sence. neuer shall sorrow or sollitude [...] not the vaine sorrow of superfluous affliction enter in [...]o thy heart any more, thy breast shall lie open to none of these, for already is it shutte vppe against all other vices. These are the most assured remees, and such as can onely deliuer thee from for­tune. But whilest thou hast attained that part which studies promise, thou hast neede of [...]orne supports and s [...]aies, and therefore in the meane while will I shew thee thy comforts. Behold my brothers who being in security [...] it is vn­lawfull for thee to accuse fortune, thou hast in both to delight thy selfe for their seuerall vertues, the one by his industry hath ar [...]aine [...] honours, the other hath contemned them wisely: content thy selfe in the one of thy sonnes dig­nity, and the others quiet, note the piety of them both. I know the in­ward affections of my brethren, the one in this respect affecteth dignity, that hee may bee an ornement vnto thee, the other hath retired himselfe to a peace­able and quiet life, onely to attend thee. Fortune hath disposed thy children wel; both for thy succour, and for thy delight; thou maiest bee defended by the dignity of the one, and enuy the others retirement. They will contend in of­fices towards thee, and the desire of one shall bee supplyed by the pie [...]y of them [Page 752] both. I dare boldly promise thee, thou shalt want nothing but the number [...] From these behold my Nephewes likewise, Marcus that pretty wanton lad, at whose sight all sorrow must be banished, there is nothing so great, nothing so newly impressed in any mans breast, which hee by his wanton dalliance will not len [...]ie, whose teares will not his pleasures suppresse? whose mind e [...]cept it bee wholly contracted by care, will not his merry and witty iestes ma [...]e ioy­full? Who will not bee drawne to delight by beholding his wantonnesse [...] who though wholly fixed and deuoured in thoughts, would not bee delighted by his prety prattle, and so pleasing that neuer wearieth any man? I beseech the Gods to grant him long life amongst vs. Let all the wearied cruelty o [...] the Fates be spit and spent vpon me, let all my mother should grieue for, be trans­ferred to me, or what afflicts my grandmother, afflict me. So the rest may flou­rish in their accustomed estate, I shall not complaine of mine owne solitude and condition. Let mee onely be the expiation of the family, that here after shall liue in repose. Keepe in thy lappe my No [...]tilla that shall shortly make thee a great Grandmother with that affection I appropriated and made her mine owne, that hauing lost me, shee might seeme to bee an Orphan, althogh I am now liuing. Loue her I pray thee for my sake: Fortune of late hath ta­ken her father from her, thy piety may effect this that she shal only haue cause to bewaile the death of her mother, and yet notwithstanding shall haue no sense of this losse. Now fashion [...]er mind, and then her manners. Precepts take best hold when they are imprinted in tender yeeres. Let her accustome her selfe to your speeches, le [...] her conforme her selfe according to thy manners, thou shalt giue her much, although thou giue her nothing but thy example. This so so­lemne an endeuour will serue for a remedy, nothing can diuert a mind that is piously sorrowfull, but eyther reason or honest occupation. I should number thy Father likewise amongst thy great comforts, Secondly [...] her Father. but that hee is absent: but now bethinke thy selfe by thine owne affection what concerneth him, and thou shalt vnderstand how far iuster a thing it is that thou art reserued for him, then bestowed vpon me. As often as immoderate force of sorrow shal inuade thee, and shall command thee to follow him, thinke vpon thy father; in giuing him so many Nephewes and Nephewes children, thou hast brought to passe that thou art not alone. Meanewhile thou enioyest this honou [...], that thou hast happily finished the course of thy life, and as long as hee liueth, it is vnlawfull for thee to complaine that thou liuest.

CHAP. XVII.

Thirdly, her si­ster [...] whose ver­tues and constan­cy she [...] commen­deth. YEt had I almost concealed thy greatest solace, thy sister that hath alwayes been so faithfull vnto thee, in whose bosome thou hast familia [...]ly discharged all thy sorrowes [...] and who hath shewed to­wards vs all an affection of a mother [...] thou hast mingled thy teares with hers, and thou first breathedst in her mouth [...] Shee alwayes followeth thine affections, and yet in my behalfe shee grieueth not [...]o much for thee. By her h [...]nds was I brought into this City, by her pious and mother­ly nursing, I recouered after a lo [...]g and dangerous sicknesse, shee employed her credi [...]e to make me Quaestor. And whereas she blushed if any one should haue spoken to her, or saluted her with a lowder voyce, shee was not ashamed to go and speake with diuers seuerall men in my behalfe, neither could her retired [Page 753] course of life, neyther her modes [...]y (in so great pe [...]ulancy of Country women) neither her quiet, neither her secret and inclined manners, ayming at nothing more then [...]pose, detaine her from showing her selfe [...] ambitious in my be­half [...]. This deare mother is a s [...]lace whereby thou must bee comforted [...] as much as in thee lyeth ioyne thy selfe to her, and tie thy selfe to her s [...]ric [...] em­braces. They that are in sorrow are wont to flie those things which most they loue, and to se [...]ke a liberty for their sorrow: but see that thou both retire thy selfe, and whatsoeuer thou thinkest vnto her, whether thou wilt keepe this ha­bite, or lay it aside, with her thou shalt finde, eyther a companion, or an end of thy sorrow. But if I be not decei [...]d in the wisdome of this most perfect wo­man, shee will not suffer thee to consume thy selfe in fruitlesse lament, and will propose thee her owne example, whereof I my selfe was a witnesse. Hauing beene married young, shee lost her husband, and our vnckle vpon the sea, yet in the mean while, & at the same time she endured her sorro [...] and feare, and afterwardes escaping from the storme shee solemnized his funerals. O how many worthy actions of women are buried in obscurity, if this woman had li­ued in the time of our a [...]cestors, who with a pure affection honoured their ver­tues; how many braue spirits should haue enforced themselues to extoll a wo­man, The He [...]oicke vertues of Hel­uias sister. who without any apprehension of her weakenes, neither feared windes, neith [...]r le [...]ted by waues, exposed her selfe to all hazards to bury her husband [...] and thinking of his obsequies, had not any thought at all of her owne? The Poets haue enobled Alcestis, that hazarded her life to ransome her husband from death. But this is more, to search with the expence of her owne life a Tombe for her husband [...] the greater is the loue that redeemeth by eminent danger that which seemeth to be little. Furthermore, is not this a thing wor­thy of admiration that during the space of sixeteene yeeres, in which her hus­band was gouernour of AEgypt, she was neuer seene in the stre [...]t, neither suffe­red shee any of that Prouince to enter her house; shee demanded nothing at her husbands hands, neither suffered any other to entreat ought else at her handes: by reason wherof this Prouince so talkatiue and ingenuous to defame their go­uernours, wherein diuers hauing carried themselues honestly, haue notwith­standing beene accused of euill conuersation, re [...]erenced thy sister as the onely example of sanctity, and enforcin [...] their owne natures which is to take plea­sure in iesting whatsoeuer become of it, carefully contained their tongs, and althoug [...] they hoped not euer to haue had such a Gouernesse, yet wished shee the like dayly. It was much for her to make her selfe knowne in AEgypt in sixe­teene yeeres space, but it was farre more to conceale her [...] selfe so long. I re­count not these things to the end to rippe vp the prayses of this woman, for to represent them so briefly, is to diminish them; but to the end that thou mayest vnderstand that shee is a woman of a great mind: whom neither ambition, nor auarice (the companions and plagues of all humane greatnes) could ouercom, neither the apprehension of death, affrighted so much (althogh she saw the ship disarmed and ready to sinke) but that holding her [...] dead husband embraced in her armes, For conclusion, and for his last consolation, h [...]e saith that Hel­uia [...]a [...]h no oc­casion to bee sad, because her sonne enioyeth a singu­lar contentment [...]n minde in his exile. shee sought out, not the meanes to escape, but how she might bu­ry his body. The like resolution oughtest thou to show, and retire thy minde from sorrow, and behaue thy selfe so that men may not thinke that thou repen­test this that thou hast brought me into this world, but because it is needfull when as thou hast done all things [...] yet that they should now and then reflect vpon me, neither that any of thy children should be more frequent in thy me­mory, not because they are lesse deare vnto thee, but because it is a naturall [Page 754] thing to lay thy hands more often on that which is aggrieued. Behold what thou oughtest to thinke that I am: I am ioyfull and merry, as if all my affaires were in the best estate of the world, and so they be, because my mind being discharged of all cares, imployeth it selfe in those actions that are proper vnto it, and sometimes delighteth himselfe in more pleasing studies, and somtimes being greedy to discouer the truth, disposeth and causeth himselfe to consider both mine owne nature, and the disposition of the whole world. First hee taketh a reuiew of all Countries, and searcheth out their situations. Afterwards he considereth the sea that circleth them round about, and the ebbes and floats of the same; then regardeth he all that which is maruellous, and dreadfull in the heauens and earth, that is to say, this great space, wherein the noyse resoundeth of so many thunders, of so many lightnings of contrary winds, of ouerflow of waters, of snowes and haile. And hauing trauelled through these low places, he ascendeth more high to enioy the sight of more diuine thinges, and remembring himselfe of eternity, he examineth all that which either hath beene, or shall bee in all ages.

The End of the Booke of Consolation.

OF NATVRALL QVESTIONS, WRITTEN BY LVCIVS ANNAEVS SENECA, DEDICATED TO LVCILLIVS. The first Booke.

The Argument of IVSTVS LIPSIVS.

HEe handleth that part of naturall Philosophie in these books, which is called [...], that is the discourse of Meteors, because for the most part it intreateth of sublime matters, and those things that are betwixt heauen and earth; yet intreateth he of the motion of the earth, as also of flouds and waters; but in this respect, because they haue their beginning or cause from spirit or ayre, and in the regard thereof haue some relation to sublime nature lik [...]wise. These books are both excellent and learned; I will not say more better, yet more plenti [...]ull then ARISTOTLES are vpon this argument, and such as he wrote when he was very olde, about that time when he wrote his Epistles. They are therefore fitly an­nexed in this place. This appeareth by diuers places, where he maketh mention of his olde age, where he speaketh of CAIVS BALBILLVS, who was Prefect of Egypt vnder NERO, but most manifestly in the beginning of his sixt booke, where he speaketh of that earth-quake which shooke Campania, when as VIRGINIVS and MEMMIVS were Consuls. And these were some two yeares before SENECAES death.

THE PREFACE.

AS much difference as there is (most vertuous Lucillius) be­twixt Philosophie and other Arts, The difference betwixt Philoso­phy and other sciences, and be­twixt that which is naturall and the other that is morall. so much suppose I that there is betweene that part of Philosophie that concer­neth men, as the other that concerneth the gods. This is more high and couragious; it giueth it selfe a larger scope, and not content with that which she discouereth by the eyes, suspecteth that there is somewhat more greater and and more fairer, which Nature hath locked from our sight. In briefe, there is as much difference betwixt the one and the other, as between God and man. The one teacheth what is to be done vpon earth, the other what is done in heauen. [Page 756] The one discusseth our errours, and ministreth vs light, whereby we may di­scerne the doubtfull things in this life: the other raiseth vs aboue that gulfe of obscuritie wherein we were confounded, and hauing redeemed vs from thence, bringeth vs thither where thi [...] brightnesse shineth. Verily I then praise and giue thankes vnto nature when I behold her, not by this meanes which is pub­lique, but when as I haue entred her secrets. When I learne what the matter of the world, is who is the author and conseruer thereof, what God is, whether he be wholly intended in the contemplation of himselfe, or whether sometimes he haue eare of vs, whether he doe any thing daily, of whether he hath done it at once, whether he be a part of the world, or the world, whether it be in his power to ordaine something to day, and to derogate somewhat from fatall de­stinie, whether it should be a diuination of his maiestie, and confession of his er­rour, to haue made things that should be subiect to change: for it is necessary since that nothing can please him that is not perfectly good, that those things which please him should be alwayes the same; and yet for all this is be no lesse free and powerfull, for he is necessitie himselfe. If I were not admitted to the knowledge of these things, there was no necessity why I should be borne: for what cause had I why I should be glad that I am numbred and placed amongst the liuing? What to swallow downe and dis-jest meate and drinke? what to glut this fraile and decaying body that must perish, except it be interchangea­bly nourished? or to liue a slaue to infirmitie, or to feare death, whereunto we are all of vs borne? It thou take away from life this inestimable good, it is not so much worth as to be swear or laboured for. O how contemptible a thing is man except he raise himselfe aboue humane things! Happy is con­templation if it be rightly go­uerned. This is wrath and other passi­ons of mind. As long as we struggle with affections, what doe we that deserueth praise? Although we get the vp­per hand, yet ouercome we but monsters. What cause haue we to boast of our selues because we are vnlike the worst men of the world? I see not why hee should take pleasure in himselfe that is stronger then a sicke man. There is great difference betwixt strength and good health. Thou hast escaped from the vices of the minde; thou art no hypocrite, nor flatterer, nor double, nor soyled with uarice, which denieth her selfe that, which she hath taken from all men, nor grounded in dissolution, which spendeth his goods and mony base­ly, and getteth them likewise most villeinously; neyther trauailed with ambi­tion, which will not leade thee to dignity but by indignities. Thou hast as yet gotten nothing, thou hast escaped many mens hands, but not thine owne. For that vertue which we affect is magnificent, not because it is a blessed thing of it selfe to haue wanted euill, but because it freeth the minde, and prepareth it to the knowledge of heauenly things, and maketh it worthy to come and accom­panie God. Then enioyeth the minde the consummate and complete good of humane condition, when as (treading all euill vnder-foot) he flieth to heauen and nestleth in the secret bosome of nature. Then taketh he delight in wan­dering amidst the starres, to laugh at the pauements of the rich, and to deride the earth with all her golde, not onely that I meane which she hath deliuered out and giuen to make money of, but that also which she keepeth close hiddem, to content the auarice of prospertie. He cannot contemne the porches, nor the house beames that are burnished with Iuory, nor the groues planted vpon the tops of houses, nor the riuers drawne and conuayed thorow chambers before he hath circled the whole world, and beholding the globe thereof from aboue, small and for the most part couered with the Sea, and in that place where it dis­couereth it selfe, hugely desart, and eyther burnt or frozen, without saying to [Page 757] himselfe: What a vertu­ous mans thoght is that enuieth the fruit [...] of vertue. Is this that point that is diuided amongst so many Nations by fire and sword? O how ridiculous are the bounds of mortall men? Let not the Dane passe beyond the ri [...]er of I [...]r let Strimo include the Thracians, let Eu­phrates bound the P [...]thians, Danubia separate the Samaritans and the Ro­manes, let Rhene border Germany, the Pyr [...]nean mountaines raise their heads betwixt France and Spaine; let the desolate vastnesse of lands diuide Egypt from the Ethiopians. If we should giue humane vnderstanding vnto Ants, would not they likewise diuide a litle Mole-hill of earth into Prouinces? Whe [...] as thou hast raised thy selfe to those things that are truly great, as often as thou shalt see whole armies marching with displayed engines, and as if there were som great matter in hand, the horse-men now scowting and discouering before, now slancking the battell, thou mayest freely say,

The blacker Squadron trotteth through the Plaines.

All this is but a businesse of Ants that labour in a Mole-hill. What difference is betwixt them and vs, The affaires of the world are trifles. except it be in the measure of their little bodies? It is but a point wherein you saile, wherein you goe on warfare, wherein you dispose Kingdomes, yea, and a very little one if a man consider the Ocean; that begi [...] ­teth it on euery side. A worthy descri­ption of vanity. Aboue these there are spacious extent [...], into the possessi­on whereof the minde is admitted. If hee bring with him a very little of the bodie, if he be cleansed from all ord [...]re, and being expedite and light, and con­tented with a little, he hath shined in these lowe [...] parts. When he attaineth these, he is nourished, he increaseth, and being as it were deliuered from bon­dage, returneth to his originall. And this argument hath hee of his diuinitie, The argument of diuinity, is to contemplate di­uine things. that he is delighted in diuine things [...] not as strange vnto him, but as his owne [...] He securely beholdeth the rising and setting of the [...]laners, and the different courses of so accordant creatures. He diligently obserueth where euery [...] beginneth to rise, and lend her fist light to the world, where her Zenith is, what wa [...] she shapeth her course, and how farre she descendeth [...] Like a curious o [...] ­seruer he examineth and debateth on euery point; why should [...]e not on straight­nesse of his former house; for how farre is it betwixt the vtt [...]r most shoares of Spain and the Indies? It is sayled in a few dayes if the wind be in the Poop, and prosp [...]rous. But that celestiall Region furnishe [...] a way for thirty yeares space to th [...] swiftest Planet, that neuer stayeth bu [...] runneth on his course with equall swiftnesse. Thereat length learneth he [...]h [...]t which he hat [...] long time s [...]gh [...]. There beginneth he to know God: what is God? The mind of the Vniuerse. What is God? And [...] and all that thou seest [...]: so at length h [...] at­taineth his greatnes, then which [...] greatest thing [...] alone be all and holdeth his worke both without and within [...] diffe­rence then is ther [...] betwixt the [...] of God and Ours? Our [...] part i [...] the minde in him no part is without the mindes [...] while men are so dullas to esteeme that [...] which hath nothing like [...] it beautie, in disposition or in [...] chance; so that it findeth it selfe [...] loud [...]em­pests, and other such [...] is this [...]olly onely pregnant among [...] Philosophie likewise h [...]ue [...] thinke that they haue a mind [...] [Page 758] euery thing, both his owne and others: but that this vniuerse wherein likewise we are, is void of counsaile, and either is transported with a certaine temeritie, or by Nature, that knoweth not what she doth. How profitable is it, thinkest thou, The supernatu­rall Philosophie of the Stoickes. to know these things, and to prefixe limits vnto Science? To know how much God can, whether he formeth his owne matter, or vseth that which is gi­uen him, whether the Idea was before the matter, or the matter the Idea. If God maketh all that which he willeth, or if in diuers things there faileth him somewhat to worke vpon, or if diuers things are kindly formed by their great work-master, not because his art causeth, but because the matter wherein he is exercised, The vse of this discourse. is not oftentimes conformable to his workmanship. To examine these things, to learne these things, to search the secrets of these things: is not this to exceed his mortality, and to be translated into a estate? What saie [...]t thou will these things profit thee, if they further mee in nothing else, of this I rest assured, that all things are too little. But of this hereafter.

CHAP. 1.

BVt now let vs come to our intended purpose. Heare that which Philosophie teacheth, Of the Meteors of [...]re. as tou­ching those fires that the ayre driueth ouer­thwartly. It is a signe that they are driuen by great force, because they are carried side-long, and by a violent swiftnesse. It appeareth that they goe not, but that they are forced. And of these fires there are diuers formes. Lib. 1. Meteors of fire. Aristo­tle calleth a certaine kind of these Goats. If thou askest me why, thou must first of all giue me a reason, why they are called yong Kids. But if we be agreed vpon the name, as it is expedient, let none of vs examine one an­other, what this or that man saith. They were called Goats, by reason they had some resemblance of little [...]eard [...] hanging on them. It shall be better to examine what the thing is, then to wonder at it, why Aristotle called a globe of fire that is in the aire a Goat. Such was that which appeared as great as the bodie of the Moone, when Paulus AEmilius made warre against Perseus. And we our selues haue oftentimes seene a flame in forme as great as a pillar, which notwithstanding in the verie course thereof was scattered. About the time that Caesar Augustus died, w [...]e saw the like Meteor, and prodigie: we saw the like, when Scianus was adiud­ged to death; Whether extra-ordinarie Mete­ors are fore-to­kens of things to come. neither was Germanitus death vnaccompanied with the like pre­sage. Thou wilt say vnto me, Art thou then so badly taught, as to thinke that the gods send some predictions of death, and that there is any thing so great on the earth, that the heauens should foresee the end? Wee shall finde another time for this matter: meane while we will see if all things be deduced by a cer­taine order, and the one so in [...]oulded in the other, that that which goeth before, is either the cause of those things that follow; or the signe. We will see whe­ther the gods haue care of humane affaires, or whether the order of things dis­couereth by certaine markes, that which ought to be done. Meane while, I think that these fires are assembled by a vehement agitation of the aire, when as the inclination thereof hath extended it selfe towards one part, and hath not gi­uen place, but sought within himselfe. From this encountrie and entershocke of the aire arise these pillar [...], these globe [...], these flashings. But when the ayre [Page 759] assembleth more mildely and remaineth shut, there issue diuors impressions of fire farre lesser, and these crinite and bearded comets haue their originall, then the fires that are lesse thicke marke out their way, which appeareth not very much, which they extend in the heauen, in such sort as there passed not a night, wherein a man may not see such impressions in the [...]ir [...], because there needeth no great agitation to create them. To speake in a word, these impressions haue the same considerations, as lightnings, yet are they caused which lesse force. E­uen as clouds being but indifferently broken one vpon another, cause flashes, and being impelled with greater force, breed lightnings. Aristotle yeeldeth this reason. The globe of the earth exhaleth diuers vapours, some moist, and some drie, some cold, and some other hot, and fit to be enflamed: neither is it to be wondered at, that so many different vapours issue from the earth, since in the heauens there appeare diuers colours, but some more fierce, as the fierie red­nesse of the Dog-starre, some more remisse, as that of Mars; some none at all, as that of Iupiter, but a pure and cleare shinning. It must therefore needs be, that in this so great abundance of exhalations, that mount from the earth into the ayre, there must some aliments of fire be raised to the clouds, that might fall on fire by reason of their entershock, but also by the assistance of the beams of the Sonne. For with as likewise we see that strawes that are besprinkled with brimstone, draw vnto them fire that is distant from them? It is likely therefor to be true, this matter gathered together within the clouds, is as easily kindled, and that the fires are great or little, according as the vapours haue beene feeble or strong. For this were a foolish things to imagine that the starres fall, or that they rise and mount againe, or that any thing is taken away or separated from them: because if this were so, by little and little there should be no more stars, they should faile. For there is no night whatsoeuer, during which a man [...]th not diuers stars, that seeme to shoote forward or backward. But cont [...]ise, euery one of them is found in his accustomed place, and euery one co [...] in their proportion. It followeth therefore, that these fires are engendre [...] [...]r­neath these stars, & continue not long time, because they neither haue founda­tion nor certaine place. Why therefore likewise are they not transferred, by day? What if I say that the stars are not by day, because they appeare not? Euen as these remaine hidden, and obscured by the light of the Sun, so the Me [...]oors of fire runne in the ayre, as well by day as by night, but the brightnesse of the day hindereth our eyes from beholding them. Notwithstanding, sometimes the matter whereof they are composed is so abundant and bright, that they are manifestly discouered euen in the day-time. In our age we haue oftentimes seene diuers fires in the day-time, the one gliding from the East to the West, the other from the West to the East. The Mariners thinke it to be a signe of a tempest, when as many stars shoot [...] but if there be a signe of windes, it is there where the windes are, that is, in the aire, which is in the middest betweene the Moone and the Earth. In a vehement tempest there appeare certaine fires or stars that sit in vpon the sailes, and at that time those that are in danger do [...] sup­pose that they are assisted by the god-heads of Gastor and Pollux. The fires called Castor and Pollux. These were Iu­piters s [...]nnes by Laeda, who for their great va­lour and coun­ning by sea were reputed gods. And their cause of better hope is, because alreadie the tempest seemeth to be allayed and the windes calmed. Sometimes these fires are caried, sometimes are setled. When as Gilippus trauelled towards Syracu [...]a, hee saw a Star that setled it selfe vpon his lance. In the Roman Campe, in some mens iudgment, there appeared certain darts, as if set on fire by reason of fire of the aire that fell on them, which oftentimes after the maner of lightnings, are wont to blast both men and tree [...]. [Page 760] But if they descend with a lesser force, Of falling fires. yet slippe they downe and settle them­selues without doing any hurt, or inflicting any wound. Some of these breake thorow the clouds, some other in faire weather, if the ayre be fit to enkindle. For sometimes it thundereth in faire weather, vpon the same cause as it doth in close and troubled aire, which is by reason of the collision of the aire within it selfe, which although it be clearer and drier, yet can meet together, and make some bodies that are like vnto clouds, Of thunders. which by incountrie sound and make a noice: sometimes therfore there are diuers pillars made, and sometimes shields, and images of vast fire, when as the like, but greater cause falleth vpon such matter.

CHAP. II.

Of the circles and crowns that appeare about the Sunne and Moone. Albert. lib. Me­teor [...]log. tract. 4. cap. 8. LEt vs now see whence that light is made that enuironeth the Pla­nets. It is reported that vpon the same day that Augustus retur­ned from Apollonia and entered Rome, there was seene a cer­taine circle of diuers colours about the Sunne, after the manner of a Rain-bow. The Grecians call this Hal [...], and we may pro­perly call it a Crowne. I will endeuour to expresse whence the cause hereof is. When as a stone is cast into a Fish-poole, we see that the water maketh diuers circles, whereof the first is small, the second more great, the others consequent­ly g [...]er, vntill the force of the stroake be vanished, and that the water be set­led as it was before. Let vs suppose that some such matter is done in the ayre, which becomming more thicke may receiue an impression, by the meanes of the brightnesse of the Sunne, or of the Moone, or of some Star, the which en­forci [...]g it selfe against the Sunne, constraineth it to retire, and to fall in circles. For humiditie and ayre, and all that which taketh forme by reuerberation, is imp [...]lled into the habitude of that thing that impelleth the same. But all light is round, by meanes whereof it must needs be, that the aire beaten backe by this brightnesse, must shew it selfe in the same forme. And therefore it is that these shining circles are by the Grecians called Areae, because that the places that are ordained to thr [...]sh corne in, are round for the most part. But we thinke not that these, either Area, or Crownes, are caused neere vnto the Moone, or the Sunne, or other celestiall bodies, for they are few of them, although they seeme to begirt and crowne them. In what region of the aire. This impression is made not farre off from the earth, but our eyes being deceiued by their ordinarie imbecilitie, thinketh that it is placed iust about the star. But no such thing may be done neere vnto the Sun or the stars, because the etheriall region is thin and transparent. It is in grosse and thicke bodies, that such impressions are accustomed to be made, neither can they take footing in subtile and thin bodies. We see I know not what such like as these impressions about our lamps in the stoue, by reason of the obscuritie. They are made for the most part at such time as the Southerne winde blow­eth, In what time. when as the skie is couered and obscured. Sometime by little and little they are dispersed and vanish, sometimes they breake in some part, and from thence the Sailers expect the winde where the flame first appeareth. For if it faile to the Northward, a Northerly winde will follow, if to the West­ward, a Westerly, which is an Argument that in that part of the Heauens these crownes are made, where ordinarily the windes are engendred: But the higher Region of the aire hath none of these circles, because the Windes are lodged [Page 761] vnder it. To these Arguments adde this likewise, that a crowne is neuer gathe­red there, but where the aire is setled and still. Otherwise it is neuer seene. For the aire that is setled may be pushed, extended, and moulded into some forme, but that which is agitated cannot receiue impression of the light, for it is not formed, neither re [...]isteth, because euery first part and portion thereof is scatte­red and hath no stay [...] And therefore neuer shall we see any Planet whatsoeuer crowned, except when the aire is thick, and calme; by meanes whereof it is capable to conserue the line which in appearance begirteth his round bright­nesse; and not without cause. For call againe to thy remembrance the example I proposed thee a little before. The stone that is cast into a fish-poole or a lake or any setled water, maketh innumerable circles, and this it doth not in a Riuer. Why? Because the water that fli [...]th thus quickly, giueth not any leisure or meanes to the stone to forme any figure. The same therefore falleth out in the aire: for that which is setled may receiue any impression, but that which fleeteth and runneth away swiftly, is incapable of forme, and disperseth euery [...]gure that would approch it if it staied. These circles being scattered by litle and litle, and as it were confounded in themselues, expresse the stilnesse, repose, and tran­quilitie of the aire, and if they scatter but on one side the winde commeth from thence: if they be opened in diuers places some storme will follow. How this commeth to passe, it may be vnderstood by those thinges which I haue decla­red alreadie. For if the whole face of the circle vanish, it appeareth that the aire is moderate, and consequently still and peaceable: if it be cut off but on one side, we see that the aire is shaken on that side that in opened, and that from the same the winde will blow. But when it is dispersed in euery part, it is a signe that it is assailed diuers waies, and that the aire stirreth it selfe from one side to an other. By meanes whereof it appeareth that a storme is at hand, and that there will be some combate of the windes by reason of this inconstancie of the aire, that whir­leth and turneth it selfe thus from all parts. These crownes for the most part appeare about the Moone in the night time, and are noted about the other stars, but seldome by day: so that some of the Grecians haue denied that they are at all, whereas Histories reproue and confute them. But the caus [...] of this raritie is this in that the light of the Sunne is more strong, and the aire it selfe being agi­tated by the same, and being hot is lesse thick. But the power of the Moone is more feeble, and therefore is it more easily sustained by the aire that inuironeth the same, and because that the other cel [...]stiall fires being feeble cannot by their beames breake or scatter the aire, thence commeth it that these impressions are made at that time without any let, for they pierce and plant themselues ve­ry easily in a solid matter, and that scattereth not as it doth by day. The aire likewise ought not bee so thick, that it exclude and driue away from him the brightnesse that is lent him, neither so thin and attenuate that it giueth not any meanes to the beames that beat vpon it to stay with him. This temperature properly falleth out by night, when as the starres reflect vpon the same by their brightnesse, not violent or forcible, the aire gathereth together and formeth these circles, because it is more thicker then in the day time.

CHAP. III.

Of the R [...]ne-bow; the cause and forme ther­of, and why it appeareth not by night. COntrariwise, the Raine-bow is neuer made by night, except very seldome, because the Moone hath not so much force to trauerse and colour the clouds as the sunne hath. For thus make they the forme of the discoloured Raine-bow: Because some parts in the clouds are more swelling, othersome more submisse, some thicker then that the sunne beames may be able to pierce them; othersome so thin that they passe quite thorow them. This inequalitie mixeth together this shadow and this brightnesse, and maketh this wonderfull varietie in the Raine-bow. There is another reason giuen of this Raine-bow; We see that when a Pipe is broken in any place, that the water bubleth forth by a little cracke: and if the sunne beateth obliquely vpon this water, it representeth the diuers co­lours of the Raine-bow. The same shalt thou see fall out, if at any time thou wilt obserue a fuller, Examples to ex­presse this. when as he hath lightly filled his mouth with water, and besprinkleth his cloth that is stretched on the Tenters. In this ayre besprinkled with water there appeareth diuers colours, such as we see in the Arke. Doubt thou not but the cause hereof is in the humour: for the Raine-bow is neuer seene except it be in rainie weather. But let vs examine how it is made: Some say that there are certaine drops of water, How the Rain-bow is caused. beaten backe by the sunne and the clouds, so thicke as the brightnesse cannot pierce them, in such sort that from these drops there proceedeth a shining, and from the thicke cloudes a shadow; by meanes whereof, and by this incountrie the Raine-bow is made; one part wherof, which receiueth the sunne, is shining, the other that repulseth the same, and hath made a shadow of it selfe to the neighbouring clouds, is more obscure. Others there are that are not of this opinion. For this might seeme true, if the Raine-bow had but onely two colours, This opinion is examined. and it consisted of light and shadow.

But we although that colours infinite
Shine in this Arch, yet nath'lesse there light
Is so conioyn'd, as it deceiues the sight,
Because their meetings are not knowne aright:
For th [...]t which toucheth is the same vnite,
And yet the brinkes are partie coloured quite.

We see in it I know not what yellownesse, rednesse, greene, blew, and other colours, Of the colours of the Arch. drawne after the manner of subtill lines, as the Poet saith, that whether they be different colours thou canst not know, except thou conferre those of the one side with those of the other; for their coniunction and assemblance ble­misheth and dazeleth the eyes: and therein is shewed the admirable worke of Nature, because that that which began with things that were alike, endeth in different. To what purpose therefore serue these two colours of light and sha­dow, wheras a reason is to be yeelded of innumerable sorts. Som think that the Rain-bow is made thus: they say that in that part where it raineth, euery drop of the falling raine is a seuerall mirror that representeth the sunne, then that this great and infinite number of images long, large, and hollow, come and ioyne and mixe themselues together; so that the Raine-bow is an assembly of diuers mirrours or representations of the same. To proue this, beholde [Page 763] what they alleage: If in a faire and cleer [...] day you set a thousand Basons in the Sunne, all of them seuerally represent his cou [...]tenance. Put me a drop of wa­ter vpon euery leafe of a tree, each one of these drops will haue in it selfe the re­semblance of the Sunne; but contrariwise a great standing poole representeth but one Sunne. Why? Because all this limited plainenesse that hath his brinks, cannot be but one mirror: but if thou makest partitions, and distinguishest by diuers walls a huge and mighty Fish-poole, so many images shalt thou haue of the Sunne as there are seuerall lakes. Leaue that Fish-poole intire and one as it was, thou shal [...] obserue but one sunne. It is no great matter whether the drop of water be small, or the Fish-poole narrow; if it hath brimmes it is a mirror of the sunne. So then these infinite drops of water, carried by the raine that fal­leth, are as many mirrors, and haue as many faces of the sunne. These appeare confused to him that looketh against them, and seeth not their distances, be­cause the space suffereth him not to distinguish the same. Furthermore, in stead of so many faces there appeareth but one confused and composed of all. The opinion of Aristotle as touching the co­lours in the Ark. Aristo­tle is of the same opinion: From all that (saith he) that is light and thin, the sight repealeth vnto it selfe his beames, but there is nothing lighter then ayre or water; and therefore the radiations of our eyes returne from the thick ayre backe againe vnto vs. But if the sight be feeble and infirme, it faileth vpon the least shocke that the ayre yeeldeth it. Some are troubled with this infirmitie, that they themselues seeme to meet themselues, and euery where they behold their owne image. Why? Because the weakenesse of their sight cannot pene­trate the ayre that is neerest them, but stayeth short; so that whatsoeuer the fogges effect in others, euery ayre worketh in these. Euery ayre how thin soeuer it be, hath power enough to repulse a weake sight; yet more easily may a thicke ayre reflect backe again vnto vs our sight, because it cannot be pierced, but stay­eth the beames of our eyes, and repelleth them back againe from whence they came. So then, since there are diuers drops of water, they are as many mirrors; but by reason of their smalenesse they represent onely the colour, and not the forme of the sunne. Moreouer, when as one and the same colour is impressed in the infinitie of drops, that fall without intermission, it beginneth to be a face, not of many different images, Of the diuers colours in the Arke. but of one that is long and continued. How com­meth it to passe (saith some one) that thou tellest me that there is so many thou­sand of images here, where I see not one? And since the sunne is all of one co­lour, why are these images thus diuers coloured? To answer thee hereunto, and to other such obiections, I must tell thee that there is nothing more incer­taine then our sight, not onely in those things which she is hindered from see­ing exactly, by reason of this diuersitie of colours, but also in those things which she discouereth hard at hand. A Water-mans Oate being plunged into a little cleere water, seemeth either broken or crooked, although it be straight. Apples seeme greater to those that looke vpon them thorow a glasse. The pillars in long Galleries seeme to be ioyned together, although there be a distance be­twixt euery one of them. Returne againe to the sunne it selfe, he whom rea­son approueth to be greater then the whole world, our eye hath so contracted, that some wise men contend that it hath but a foote of Diameter. We knowe that he runneth with a swiftnesse surpassing all swiftnesse, yet none of vs per­ceiueth any motion; neyther would we beleeue that he had kept on his course except it were apparant that he moueth. There is none of vs that can obserue the course of the heauens, turning with a headlong and incredible swiftnesse, in such sort, that in the twinkling of an eye hee causeth in diuers clymat [...] of th [...] [Page 764] world both day and night; why then wo [...]drest thou that our eyes cannot dis­cerne the droppe [...] of [...]ater, or that the differe [...]ce of these s [...]all images vanish from thy sight that is so farre distant? No man can doubt bu [...] that the Raine­bow is an image of the Sunne, conceiued in a moist and hollow cloud. The reason is, because the Rainebow is alwayes opposite against the Sunne, eyth [...]r higher or lower, according as the Sunne setteth or riseth, but by a contrary mo­tion. For when the Sunne setteth, Why the Raine­bow appeareth opposite against the Sunne. the Rainebow is more high [...] and if hee riseth aboue the Horizon, the Rainebow is more low. Oftentimes such a cloud ap­peareth on the side of the Sunne [...] which maketh nor a Rainebow, because it draweth not an image by a right reflexion. But this variety is made for no o­ther cause, but for that a part of the colour is in the Sunne, and [...]n other part in the cloud it selfe: Why there are diuers col [...]urs in it. but this humidity formeth and draweth now blew lines, som­times greene, other whiles purple, and sometimes dimme and fiery; in briefe, two sorts of colours, [...]the one liu [...]ly, the other pale, are th [...]se that cause all this diuersi [...]y, for so purple issueth not in the same sort from the shell, A comparison from purple. but it importeth much how long time it hath remained extinct, what sucke it hath drawne eyther subtile or thicke, or if it hath receiued tin [...]ture one time onely [...] it is not therefore to bee wondred at, considering [...]hat the Sunne and the cloud are two things, that is to say, the body and the mirror, if a man see so many dif­ferent colours which may arise or fall in diuers sorts: for of one kind is the hea [...] that proceedeth from a fierce light, an other that proc [...]edeth from a bright­nesse not so shining and sparkling. To search out other causes, it were extra­uagant, considering that wee haue not any ground that may sustaine our dis­course, except wee should build vpon coniectures, which haue no end. Here then it appeareth that there are two causes of the Rainbow, the Sunne and the Cloud, Two causes of the Rainebow. for the Rainebow is neuer made in faire weather, neither then when it is so close weather, that the Sunne appeareth not, so then it is made of both, without either of which it cannot be.

CHAP. IIII.

A con [...]i [...]mation of that which hath been taken from the Arke, is formed by opposition against the Sunne, by the comparis [...]n of Artemido­ [...]us. L [...] v [...] adde to that which is abo [...]e [...]ide, another proofe no lesse e­uident. The image and representation which is made by reason of the mi [...]ror, neuer appeareth [...]xcept the mirror bee opposed in su [...]h sort, that a man may see [...]h [...] same in one place, and the thing that it represented in an other tha [...] is opposite. There are certaine reasons alleadged by the Geometrician which perswade not, but inforce; ney­th [...]r hath any man cause to doubt, but that the Arke is an image of the Sunne, which is badly expressed by reason of the d [...]f [...]t and figure of the mirror [...] But l [...]t vs [...] in [...]he meane time to produce other proofes. Amongst other argu­ments why the Arke is caused th [...]s [...] I put this, that it is sodainely made, and v [...] ­nish [...]th also as sodainely. But there is nothing more readily represented then an image in a glasse, for the mirror doth nothing but onely represent the obiect. B [...]ri [...]n [...]s Artem [...]dorus addeth, what kinde of [...]oude it sho [...] hee which repre [...]se [...]teth such an image of the Sunne, if thou [...] makest saith [...] hollow mir [...]or, that is as it were the halfe of a Bowle, if thou standest vpright behind this halfe [...] a [...]l [...]hese that are neere vnto thee shall appeare [...] [...] eyes more [...] vn [...]to thee then the mirror. The same saith hee f [...]lleth our when wee behold a round and hollow cloud on one side of vs, that the image of the Sunne which is [Page 765] seuered from the Sunne, is more turned towardes vs; the yellow colour there­fore commeth from the Sunne, the blew proceedeth from the cloud, the other colours grow by a mixture of them both.

CHAP. V.

AGainst these things, these succeeding Arguments are aimed. There are two opinions of mirrors; An obiection against the com­pari [...]ō precedent. for some are of opinion that the resemblances are seene in these, that is the figures of our bo­dies, sent forth and separated from our bodies: some say that the images are not in the mirror, but that the bodies themselues are beheld; the sight of the eye being retorted and reflected, and returned againe in­to it selfe. Now it appertaineth nothing to the matter, how wee see, whatso­euer wee behold, but how the like image should bee represented by the loo­king glasse. What is so vnlike as the Sunne and the Rainebow, wherein neither the Center, nor the figure, neither the greatnesse appeareth? for the Raine­bow is longer and more ample, and in the brighter part thereof more red then the Sunne, but in the other colours diuers. Againe, when thou wilt compare a mirror with the aire, thou must giue mee the same leuity of body, and the same eqnality, and the same brightnesse. But there are no cloudes that haue the similitude of a looking glasse, wee oftentimes passe through them, and yet see not ourselues in them. They that clime vp to the toppes of hils, behold the cloudes, and yet see not their image in the same. Euery droppe is a seuerall mir­ror. I grant it, but this I deny, that a cloud consisteth of droppes. For shee hath some things whereof shee may create such droppes, not herselfe, neither hath a cloud any water in it, but the matter of future water. I will likewise grant thee that there are innumerable droppe [...] in cloudes, that yeelde some r [...]sem­blance, yet all of them yeelde not one and the same, but euery one hath his a­part. Againe, vnite thou mirrors together, they will represent more then one face; for euery one will retaine in himselfe the similitude of that hee represen­teth. There are many mirrors that are composed of diuers small peeces, to which if thou presentest but one man, yet there appeareth a multitude, euery part expressing and representing his owne face. These though conioyned and placed together, doe not withstanding reserue vnto themselues their images a­part, and of one, they make a multitude, yet confound they not that multitude, but distinguish it into seuerall faces. But the Rainebow is made all at once, and hath but one onely face. What then? Is not the water that issueth from a bro­ken pype, or is squirted or spit out of the mouth, wont to haue some such like colours as wee see in the Rainebow. Tis true: but not for the same cause, as thou thinkest, because that euery droppe of water [...]eceiueth the image of the Sunne: for these droppes fall too soone to be able to receiue any forme. They must needly stay to represent the same which they imitate. What is then done? They contract the colour and not the image of the Sunne. Otherwise as Nero Caesar said most learnedly;

Faire Venus Doue, bending her necke aside,
In party coloured plumes, doth shew her pride:

And as often as the Peacocke turneth his head neuer so little, her party colou­red [Page 766] plumes shine and sparkle: shall wee therefore say, that these feathers are Mirrors, who vpon euery inclination of the head, present new colours; as much correspondence haue the cloudes with mirrors as those birdes I tolde you, and the Camelions and other kind of Creatures, who of themselues change their colours, as often as either wrath or desire of generation maketh them spread a humour which giueth a new tincture to the skin, or that they receiue this co­lour by reuerberation of the light according as it beateth vpon them directly, or obliquely. What resemblance is there betwixt mirrors and cloudes? mir­rors are not transparent, but thicke and of one peece, and matter: contrariwise brightnesse trauerseth the clouds, which are thin, composed of confused mat­ter, by meanes whereof they cannot remaine long times tied together, but the one of them destroyeth the other. Besides, wee see a part of the heauen that is red, when the Sunne riseth, and sometimes wee see cloudes that are colourd like fire. What letteth then but as they receiue this colour by the arriuall and encountry with the Sunne, so also they should draw diuers colours, although they haue not the same efficacy as a mirror hath? Thou saidst not long since, (will some man say) that the Rainebow is alwayes made by the opposition of the Sunne, because a mirror could not represent a face, if it were not set oppo­site against the Sunne. Herein, saith he, wee are aggrieed. For euen as wee ought to set before the mirror the thing whose Image wee would haue the glasse to represent: so is it needefull that the Sunne beames should beate di­rectly vpon the cloods, and that they should bee neare him to contract co­lour. This is their allegation, who would pretend that a cloud is coloured. Posidonius and they that thinke that a cloud is as a mirror, answer thus. If there were any colour in the Rainebow it would continue, and it should be seene the more manifestly, the more nearer wee were vnto it: But now the image of the Arch appeareth best when it is furthest of, the more it neereth vs, the sooner it dieth. I cannot giue way to this contradiction, when as I approue the sentence. Why? I will tell you; because the cloud is coloured, but so that the colour ther­of appeareth not euery wayes; for the cloud it selfe appeareth not euery where; for no man seeth the cloud wherein he is. What wonder then is it, that the co­lour thereof is not seene vnto him, by whom shee her selfe is not seene? yet although shee bee not seene, shee is; and consequently she hath colour. So it is not an argument of a false colour, because that in drawing neere vnto the same, shee ceaseth to appeare the same as shee was before, for the like falleth out in the cloudes themselues, which are not therefore false, because they are not seene. Furthermore, when it is tolde thee, that the cloud is straked with the Sunne, it is not intended that this colour was mixed as in a hard, firme, and permanent body, but as in a fluid and flitting masse, which receiueth neyther forme nor colour but for a very little while. The better and deeper tincture the Tyrian scarlet is, the higher must you holde the same, to the end that the lusire thereof may shew the better, Sen [...]caes opi­nion touchi [...]g the [...]sh [...]n of the Ar [...]h. yet looseth not in beeing neere vs his per­fect colour, but that tincture it hath, howsoeuer it be discouered, sheweth it selfe. Of that opinion am I that Posidonius was, that the Arch is made when as the cloud is formed after the manner of a mirror, hollow and round, like the halfe of a bowle. This cannot be approued by the assistance of the Geome­tricians, who by inuincible reasons proue that the cloud is an image of the Sun, and yet resembleth him not; as likewise mirrors are not answerable wholy vn­to the truth of things. There are some thou wouldest be afraid to looke vpon, so deformed maketh it their face to appeare that beholde the same, by repre­senting [Page 767] their similitude quite contrary. Others of them are such, that in be­holding them, will make thee thinke thy selfe some worthy man, because that both thine armes, and the other members of thy body will seeme to be more greater and mighty then they are. Some of them represent a true similitude of the face; others halfe the face; some there are that lessen and turne it vp­wards. What is it therefore to wonder at, if the sunne bee imperfectly repre­sented in a cloud, as well as in these artificiall mirrors?

CHAP. VI.

AMongst other reasons, this shall be one, that the Arch neuer shew­eth more greater then the halfe of a Circle, The Progno­stiques touching the Rainebow. and that the lesse it is, the higher the Sunne is.

The mighty Arch doth drinke.

As our Virgil saith, at such time as the raine is ready to fall, but the Progno­stiques of the Arch are diuers according to his situations. If it appeareth in the south, it bringeth with it much raine, because that by their abundance they could not be surmounted by the sunne. Contrariwise, if it appeareth in the west, there will follow but a dew and some little raine; and if it be in the east, it is a signe of faire weather. But if the Arch bee the image of the sunne, Why it appeareth greater then the Sunne. whence commeth it that the Arch appeareth to be more great then the sunne? because the nature of some mirror is such, that it sheweth things to bee more greater then they were presented vnto it, and will make the body ap­peare of more prodigious biggenesse: contrariwise, there are some that make thinges seeme farre lesser then they bee. Tell mee why the face sheweth round in a square mirror? happily thou mayest say, that it is thence whence this diuers colour proceedeth; but I cannot tell thee whence this forme commeth, except in thy hand thou hast some patterne whereupon it is formed: But hee hath no other then that of the sunne, from whence thou must needely confesse that the Arch borroweth his colour, Of the colour. and consequently his forme. Finally, wee are agreede, that these colours which wee see in the Heauens proceede from the sunne: but our difference is, because thou maintainest that it is a colour, and I say that it seemeth to bee a colour, whether it bee the one or the other, thou canst not tell mee why this colour vanisheth sodainely, whereas all other lightes are extinguished by little and little. This apparition and disparrition of the Raine-bow maketh for mee: A proofe that the comparison be­tween the Raine-bow and the mirror is proper. for it is the nature and property of a mir­ror not to show thinges in partes, but wholly and at once. Euery I­mage is made and vnmade equally. To represent the same or not repre­sent the same, there needeth no more to shew it, or to take it away. There is no proper substance or body in the cloude; it is but a fiction and resemblance without the thing. Wilt thou know that it is thus? the Raine-bow will vanish if thou hide the Sunne. I tell thee if thou oppose (I say) another Cloud vnto the Sunne, the varietie of the Raine-bow will vanish; yet is the Sunne somewhat greater then the Arch. I haue already answered, that there are some mirrors which multiplie the whole body which is presented vnto them: whereunto I adde that all [Page 768] things seeme more great, if they be beheld thorow the water. Letters, although they be but small and obscure, appeare more greater and clearer, when they are read thorow a violl filled with water. Apples seeme more fairer then they be, if they swimme in a glasse. Examples shew­ing how the Rain-bow see­meth more grea­ter then the Sunne. Behold the Starres thorow a cloud, and thou wilt iudge them more great, because our eye slippeth in the humiditie, and cannot faithfully apprehend that which it would. This appeareth clearely, if thou fil­lest a glasse with water, and castest into it some ring, for although the ring re­maineth in the bottome, yet the resemblance thereof appeareth in the top of the water. All that which a man seeth thorow the water, is farre greater then the thing it selfe. What wonder is it then, if in a moist cloud the image of the sunne appeareth more greater then naturall. There are two reasons hereof: be­cause in the cloud there is somewhat that is like vnto glasse, which can shine: the other that hath somewhat of water, which although not formed, yet the nature thereof appeareth, and finally, of a cloud wee see that there commeth raine.

CHAP. VII.

Of the triangles of glasse that re­present the [...]o­lours in the Rain-bow, and the diffe [...]ence betwixt them and it. BEcause (sayest thou) thou hast made mention of a glasse, euen from the same will I produce an argument against thy selfe. Men are accustomed to make certain rods of glasse very narrow, wher­in there ar [...] diuers angles, and knots or points. If these be shewed athwart the Sunne, they represent the same colours of the Rain-bow, so that thou seest that in it there is not the image of the Sunne, but an imi­tation of his colour by reuerberation. In this thine argument there are many things that make for me. First, this glasse ought to be thin, and as it were a mir­ror to reflect the Sunne. Afterwards it appeareth, that in stead of a right co­lour, it maketh a representation of a false colo [...]r, such as the necke of pigeons in turning themselues doth, and changeth diuers colours. The same is in a mir­ror wherein no man perceiueth any colour, but an appearance of strange co­lours. This onely remaineth to be resolued, why a man seeth not the Image and representation of the Sun in these rods? They are not capable to expresse the same well, the matter is polished and disposed thereunto, by means wherof they inforce themselues to represent the Sunne; but it is impossible, because both their forme and fashion repugneth the same. If they were made and fa­shioned with conuenient proportion, they would represent as many sunnes, as many insectures as they had: but because their diuisions are confused, they haue not so great brightnesse as a mirror, they only begin to make representations of the sunne, and finish them not, and for that they are neere, they confound all these representations and images together, whence the appearance of colour proceedeth.

CHAP. VIII.

BVt why doth not the Rain-bow, Why the Arth is but hal [...] circle. in stead of this great and halfe circle it maketh, become wholly round? Some thinke thus, that the sunne being far more higher then the clouds, beateth not, but vpon the vpper part, whence it followeth that the inferiour i [...] not attainted with light. Entertaining the sunne therefore but in one part, they likewise represent but a part of the sunne, and this part is neuer more great then the halfe. This reason hath no great waight [...] Why? because tha [...] although the sunne incl [...]neth towards the higher part, yet beateth he vpon the whole cloud. He hath coloured it then: why not? since it is his custome to dart his beames, and to penetrate thorow euery thicknesse. Moreouer, they contra­dict their owne intent; for if the sunne be aboue, and for this cause reflecteth only on the higher part of the clouds, neuer will the Arke descend vnto the earth; but we see that it extendeth it selfe euen vnto the ground [...] Furthermore, the Arch is alwayes opposite against the sun, neither appertaineth it any thing to the matter, whether it be aboue or beneath the same, because that euery place that is opposite against the sunne, cannot but be beaten with the beame [...] thereof. Againe, sometimes a Westerly sunne causeth a Rain [...]bow, when a [...] he reflecteth vpon the clouds beneath; and is nearest to the earth, which a [...] that time hath but his halfe circle, although the clouds receiue the sunne, when he tendeth to his declination. The Stoickes that would haue th [...] light appeare in the cloud, as a fire doth in the mirror, say, that the cloud is hollow, and as it were a halfe bowle, which cannot make an entire globe, because it is onely a part ther­of. I approue their intention, but not their argument. For if in the cauitie of a mirror, all the face of the opposite orbe is expressed, then in an halfe orbe there is no cause why the whole globe may not be beheld, and if we haue said here­tofore that a man seeth entire circles of the same colours as the Rain-bow, en­uironing the Sun and the Moone: whence commeth it in the meane space, that these circles are entirely whole, and the Rain-bow is neuer but halfe a circle? Againe, why do hollow clouds, and such as are not flat and round, receiue and entertaine the sunne? Aristotle saith, That after the AEquinoctiall in Autumne the Rain-bow is made euery houre of the day, but that in Summer it is neuer seene, but vpon sun-rise, or sun-set. The cause is euident. First, because about noonested the sun is so strong that he disperseth the clouds, by meanes where­of he cannot impresse his image in them. But in the morning and euening he hath least force, and therefore the clouds may sustaine and repulse him. More­ouer, whereas he is not accustomed to forme the Arch, except at such time as he is opposite to those clouds where he causeth the same; when the dayes are shor­ter, then is he alwayes oblique. Therefore in euery part of the day, yea euen at mid-day there are certaine clouds, that he may oppositely beate vpon. But in Summer time he is caried aboue our heads, by meanes whereof, at noone-day he beholdeth the earth so directly, that there is not any cloud that can be oppo­sed against him, for at that time they are all vnder him.

CHAP. IX.

NOw must I speake of rods or windgales, which are no lesse co­loured and diuers then the Rain-bow, Of rods that are imperfect Arkes. which notwithstanding cease not to foretell raine, we need not stand long vpon this mat­ter, for such rods or windgales are no other things, but vnper­fect Rain-bowes. For these haue a discoloured face, yet haue they nothing crooked in them. For they appeare for the most part neere vnto the sunne in a moyst cloud, that beginneth but to spread, so that they haue the same colour that the Rain-bow hath, but not the forme, because the forme of the clouds, when they extend themselues, is different also.

CHAP. X.

THe like varietie is in Crownes, but in this they differ, because Crownes are made euery where wheresoeuer the sunne is, the Rain-bow is not made, but in opposition against the sun, the rods but neere vnto the sunne. I can likewise this way deliuer a diffe­rence of all; if thou diuidest a crowne, it is a Rain-bow, if thou straighten it, it is a rod? In all of them there is a multiplicitie of colours, of blew, red, and yellow. Onely the rods are neerest to the sunne, the Rain-bowes all of them are either solare, or lunare, crownes are made about all the planets.

CHAP. XI.

THere appeareth likewise another sort of rods, when as small, scat­tered, and long beames addresse themselues together, Of Parelies. and streme from out some straits of the clouds. These [...]re fore-tokens of ve­hement raines. But what shall I say heere? What name shall I giue vnto these rods? Are they the Images of the sunne? The Historians call them Sunnes, and write that two of them appeared, and some­times three: the Grecians call them Parelia, because they are ordinarily seene neere vnto the sunne, or because they resemble the sunne somewhat, for they imitate not the whole, but his image and figure. Otherwise they haue no heat or vigor whatsoeuer, they are dull and imperfect. What name then shall wee giue them? Shall I doe as Virgil did, who in the beginning doubted of the name, and afterwards gaue that whereof he doubted.

What shall I call thee Rhetica diuine,
Contend not therefore with Palernian wine.

There is nothing that can hinder vs from calling them by the name of Parelia. These are images of the sun in a thicke and neighboring cloud, in the forme of a mirror. Some say that they are round clouds, shining, and like vnto the sunne. For they follow him, remaining alwaies with him, as long as they dure in e­quall distance from him: no man is afraid to behold the image of the sunne in any fountaine or still water, but the face hereof may appeare as well aboue as beneath, prouided that he finde proper matter to represent the same face.

CHAP [...] XII.

AS often times as we would discouer whether there were an [...]clipse of the sunne or no: Of the eclipses of the Sunne, and how they are dis­couered. We fill certaine basons with oyle or pitch, be­cause a thicke humour is not troubled so easily, and therefore re­taineth the images that are offered vnto it. But the images and re­presentations cannot appeare, except it be in that which is liquid and still. At that time are wee wont to marke, how the Moone opposed her sel [...]e against the Sunne, how s [...]e hideth him, being greater then her selfe, by the opposition of her bodie, now in part, if it happen that their encountrie be but oblique, sometimes she obscureth him, being right vnder him. This is called an entire defection and eclipse, during which we see the Stars, and the bright­nes of the day is lost, that is to say, at such time as the Sunne hath the Moone right vnder him. Euen as therefore vpon the earth we may behold the image of them both; so may a man see them in the aire, when as it is so still and faire, as the face of the Sunne is imprinted therein, which other clouds receiue like­wise, but let slip, if either they are too moueable, or too rare, or too sullen. For the moueable scatter him, the rare and cleere let him slip, the thicke and dark­some feele him not, no more then on the earth spotted mirrors represent a per­fect forme vnto vs.

CHAP. XIII.

AFter the same manner likewise two Parelie are wont to be made. Of double Pa­relies. For what letteth it, but that there may be as many as there are clouds that are fit to represent the image of the Sunne? Some are of that opinion, that as often as they see two such representati­ons, that they iudge the one to be of the Sunne, the other of the image if selfe. For amongst vs likewise, when as diuers mirrors are disposed so, that the one is in the sight of the other, all of them are filled, but yet there is but one image of the thing; the other are the resemblances of that image. For it is no matter what the thing is, which is shewed in a mirror, because it repre­senteth all that which is set before it. So there likewise in the aire, if any casu­altie dispose the clouds, so as they behold one another: the one cloud will re­present the Sunne it selfe, and the other represent the image of the Sunne. But such clouds as these ought to be thicke, light, shining, and entirely of the na­ture of the Sunne; and therefore all these representations are white, and resem­ble the Crescent of the Moone, because their brightnesse proceedeth from an oblique reuerberation of the sunne. For if the cloud be beneath the sunne, and neerer vnto him, she is dissipated by him, and being set farre off, of him, she can­not sufficiently entertaine his beames, to make show of an impression, as mir­rors represent not our faces which are farre off from them, because the sight of our eye hath not recourse vnto vs backe againe. Furthermore, the Parelie or Sunnes betoken raine (for I will vse the Historiographers name) especially if they show towards the Southward, where the clouds are especially gathered: when such impressions as these begirt the sunne on euery side, if wee beleeue Aratus, it foretokeneth a Tempest.

CHAP. XIIII.

Of other diuers sorts of fiery Meteors. IT is time now to consider those other fires, which haue diuers ap­pearances, sometimes there shineth a starre, sometimes the hea­uen is as it were inflamed, somtimes there are fixed and inherent fires, sometimes they stay not in one place. There are many kinds of these seene; somtimes there are fires that outwardly are begirt with a crown, and inwardly flame. Somtimes the heauens gather toge­ther, in such sort as if they seemed to be some round trench. There are some that are called Pithyae, when as the greatnesse of a grosse and round fire, like vnto a towne runneth in the heauens, or else burneth it selfe to nothing in one place. Furthermore there are Casma is when much va­pour is inflamed in a watry cloud, or one that is very thin. Chasmata, when as sometimes a space of the heauens o­peneth it selfe, and gaping wide seemeth as it were in the secret thereof to shew a burning flame: and all these Meteors are of different colors, some of intended rednesse, some of a slighter and fainter flame, some of a cleerer and whiter light, some sparkling, and some equally yellow, without irruptions or radiations: we see therefore

The longest tract of starres growe white behinde.

These shoote and flie like starres, and seeme to shoote out long traines of fire, by reason of their immeasurable swiftnesse, when as our eye cannot discerne their passing by, but wheresoeuer they ranne, beleeued that all that parte was on fire. For such is the swiftnesse of their motion, that we cannot apprehend their distances, but onely see their ends. We see better the place where the bo­die of a fiery starre presenteth it selfe, then the way that it holdeth. He there­fore design [...]th all his course, as it were with a continuall fire, because the slow­nesse of our [...]ight followeth not the moments of his race, but seeth at once both from what place it issued, and whether it attaineth; which falleth out in light­ning; for the [...]ire thereof seemeth long vnto vs, because he ouerslippeth his space in the twinkling of an eye, and all that circuit encountreth with our eyes, whereby it is discharged; yet is it not an extended bodie, that it may occupie all the space of the way whereby it commeth: for things so long and extenua­ted haue no force to giue a violent assault. Whence this li [...]htning and darting of them proceedeth. How therefore do these fires issue? When the fire is enkindled by the collision of the ayre, it is violently pushed downward by the winde; and yet is it not alwayes caused by winde or by col­lision. Sometimes it is bred by reason of some opportunitie of the ayre; because that in this higher region there are diuers things that are drie, hote, and terre­striall amongst which it is bred, and the matter that feedeth it faileth very sud­denly, and therefore is it violently carried and vanished away. But why is it that his coulor is diuers? what importeth it, what that is which is enkindled, and how vehement it is, Their significa­tion. whereby it is set on fire? But this fall of this fire signi­fieth winde, from that part from whence it breaketh forth.

CHAP. XV.

THou askest me likewise how those lightnings are engendred which the Graeci [...]ns call Sela, How lightnings are made. in diuers sortes as it is reported. It may be that the force of the winde breedeth them, or the heat of the highest heauen may produce them: for when as the [...]lemen­tary fire is spread euery where, sometimes it embraceth inferiour things if they be disposed to take fire. The motion of the starres may by his course enkindle this fire, and transmit it to inferiour bodies. What then? Can it not be that the ayre repulseth that vertue which it hath from fire, as far as the aethereall region, whence afterward there followeth a lightning or enkindling of a star, or some such like darting fire? Of these lightnings, some fall directly downewards, resembling shooting stars, some remaine in a certaine place, and shoot forth so much light as may disperse darkenesse, and represent the day, vntil such time as hauing consumed their nutriture, they first of all become ob­scure, and afterwards after the manner of a flame that is extinguished in it selfe by continuall diminution they are reduced to nothing. Of these some appeare in the clouds, some aboue the clouds, when as the thicke ayre hath drawne that fire as high as the stars, which it had long time nourished and entertained neere vnto the earth. Some of these [...]uffer no delay, but runne here and there, and are extinguished in that place where they first appeared. These are truely cal­led lightnings, because their appearance is short and of small continuance. Ney­ther fall they without some mischiefe; for oftentimes they doe as much mis­chiefe as tempestuous fire-breaks. By these haue we seene the tops of houses s [...]rooken, which the Gaecians call Astropoplecta. Continued lightnings or Comets, and their diuers sorts But these continued lightnings which haue their fire more strong, and which follow the motion of the heauen, or that haue a particular tract, are called Comets, according to the opinion of the Stoicks, whereof I am to intreate. There are diuers sorts of these; some bearded, some like Torches or Lamps, some are called Cyparissiae, and others whose fire is scattered and long in their breaking forth. Some doubt whether they ought to put in the ranke of these Comets those beames and tombs of fire that are seldome seene. For they haue need of much matter, and conglobati­on of fire, considering that sometimes their body is so great that it surpasseth the thicknesse and roundnesse of the rising sunne. Amongst them thou mayest place these fires which are oftentimes mentioned in histories and wherof som­times the brightnes is so heigh that such fierie boddies seeme to be placed a­mongst the stars, otherwhiles it is so lowe that it seemeth to be the burning of some howses, that are far from the place where we are. In the time of the Em­peror Tiberius the horse men galloped to succour the inhabitants of Ostia, sup­posing that their City was set on fire; but it was a heate of the heauens, and a brightnesse of fire, thick & foggy, which had shined for a great part of the night. Of these no man doubteth but that they haue a flame which they shew, and their substance is certaine. Whether the Raine-bow and Crown [...] be but appearances. The question is of the former, I meane of the Raine­bow & crowne, whether they deceiue the sight and are but counterfeit, or whe­ther they haue truly that in them which appeareth. Our opinion is, that neither the Rain-bow or Crowns haue any certain body. For in esteeme that there is not any thing but fallacious in mirrors, which doe but represent a body subsist­ing without them; otherwise it would remaine therin, and could not be hidden or defaced by any other Image, neither should a man in one instant see so many [Page 774] infinite formes both appeare and vanish in one and the same mirrour. What is it then? They are Images and vaine representations of true bodies, nay which is more, there are some artificiall mirrors found, which may make some things ap­peare farre contrary to that they are; for, as I said; there are some mirrours that make their faces seeme crooked that look into the same, and some there are that make their shew infinitely more huge, and exceeding humane habite, and the measure of our bodies.

CHAP. XVI.

A monster of in­tempera [...]cy: a shame of Rome the villeinous Hostius. IN this place I will tell thee a storie, to the end thou mayest vnder­stand that lust forgetteth not any instrument to prouoke his de­sire, but is diligent and ingenuous to excite his owne furie. There was a man called Hostius so vncleanely and villeinous, that he was not ashamed to make shew of his securrilitie and filthinesse in the publique Theater. This rich and couetous wretch was owner of two milli­ons and fiue hundreth thousand crownes; yet Diuus Caesar after that his slaues had murthered him, iudged that hee was vnworthy that any man should re­uenge his death, & yet notwithstanding would he not declare that he was iust­ly slain. He was not only impure in respect of one sex, but he surfetted in his lust both towards men and women, & made certain mirrors of that fashion, wherof I late made mention, that shewed the images of men far greater then they were, wherein one finger exceeded the arme in measure, length, and thicknesse. These did he dispose in such sort that when he endured the company of men, he sawe in the mirrour all the execrable motions of him he had admitted, enioying by this meanes a false greatnesse of their members, as if it had beene true. In all bathes he made his choyse, and chose him men by the open measure of their length, yet notwithstanding delighted he his insatiable lusts with fained appea­rances also. Goe now and say that Looking-glasses were inuented for vnclean­nesse sake. It is shamefull to be spoken what this monster (worthy to be torne with his owne teeth) both spake and did; when as on euery side mirrors were opposed against him, to the end he might be a beholder of his owne hainous vil­leinies. And those things which a secret conscience would suppresse, and such as any one being accused thereof, would be ashamed to confesse: these thrust he not onely into his mouth, Modest [...]i [...]s blush & Ch [...]isti [...]n ears abhorre th [...]se re­la [...]ions: shame­l [...]sse; reade i [...] with shame, for such like actions, O can the [...]e be such? br [...]de confusion [...]or [...]uer. but into his eyes. But vndoubtedly haynous sinnes are afraid to behold themselues. The most desperatest villaines, and they that are disposed to all dishonour, feele that the tendernesse of shame easily seizeth their eyes. But this man, as it were a trifle to suffer things vnheard of, and vn­knowne in his owne person, hath made them come before his sight, and was not onely contented to see the greatnesse of his sinne, but thought good to plant a­bout himselfe his mirrors, whereby he diuided, and disposed his villeinies. And because he could not so diligently obserue and see, at such time as he was seized vpon, and his head hidden, and his body tyed to the shamefull part of some vil­leinous buggerer, he represented his monstrous action to himselfe by resem­blances: he saw in his mirrors the surquedry of his mouth, he beheld the men whom he receiued vpon all the parts of his bodie. Somtimes diuiding himselfe betwixt a man and a woman, and abandoning his person to suffer both wayes, he beheld those villeinies which a man durst not either imagine or name. What hath this impure catife left himselfe to doe in the darken [...]sse? Hee feared not [Page 775] the day, and durst shew himselfe those monsterous embracements, and approue them vnto himselfe. What? doest thou thinke that he would not be painted in that habit? There is some modestie in those that are prostitute and harlots, and they couer in some sort those bodies of theirs, which are the obiects of publike disgrace, whereby their vnhappie patience may lie hidden, so that in some sort the very brothel-house hath modestie in it. But that Monster made a publique spectacle of his vncleannesse, and shewed those thinges to himselfe, to couer and hide which no night were darke enough. I, saith hee, endure both a man and a woman at once, and notwithstanding in that part also which is left me to some disgrace, I exercise the part of a man. All my members are exercised in pamardice; it is therefore requisite that mine eyes should haue their part, and that they should be witnesses and controllers. Euen those things which by sci­tuation are hidden from the sight of our bodies, are visited by art, least any man should thinke that I know not what I doe: nature did nothing when shee gaue a man so feeble instruments to execute his lusts, and when shee hath learned bruit beasts a more perfect contentment in their encountries. I will finde a meanes how I may deceiue and satisfie my infirmitie; whereto should my ini­quitie serue me; if I should not sinne more then nature hath taught me? I will set these kinde of mirrors about me, that may present an incredible greatnesse of formes. If I might haue libertie I would make them truly as great, and be­cause I may not, I will feede my selfe with the similitude; my villanie shall see more then it can conceiue, and shall admire at his owne patience. O detessable wickednesse. This man perchance was killed quickly, and before he saw these things. He deserued to be massacred before his mirror.

CHAP. XVII.

LEt those Philosophers therefore be now derided who dispute thus of the nature of mirrors, Of the vse of mirrors vpon the occasion of the former com­parison. enquiring whence it commeth that our face sheweth thus, and turneth towards vs what pretended the nature of things, that after shee had giuen vs true bodies, shee would likewise that a man should see these images? To what end was is to prepare this matter that was fit to entertaine formes? It was not to the end we should pluck our beards by a looking glasse, or to polish a mans face, na­ture hath not allowed dissolution any thing to exercise her folly in: but first of all, Because our eyes are to feeble to behold the sunne at hand, to the end that they might comprehend the forme of the same, shee discouereth it in a more du [...]ler light. For although we may behold him both at his rising & his setting, yet should we not know his true forme in his resplendent brightnesse, if his face were not shewed vs more easily to be obserued in some pure & polished thing. Secondly, we should not see the eclipses, neither might we know what it is if we did not more easily vpon the earth perceiue the images both of Sun and Moon. Thirdly, mirrors haue beene inuented to the end that a man might know him­selfe. Of this inuention haue followed diuers benefits, first the knowledge of our selues, afterwards the resolution of some occurrents. The faire ought to learne herein how to auoide infamie: the foule, to redeeme by their vertuous behauiour, the imperfection of their countenance: The yong, to remember themselues that being in their flowring yeares, that it is time for them to learne, and attempts actions of value: The old, to [...]ake off all misse-beseeming actions [Page 776] that are vnfitting for their white haires, and to meditate on death. For this cause nature ministred vs the meanes to see our selues. A cleare fountaine, and euery bright stone reflecteth our mindes.

Late did I see my selfe from of the shore,
When seas were calm'd and tempest stir'd no more.

What were these fellowes, thinkest thou, that combed themselues by this glasse? That age was more simple, the men contented themselues with that which next came to hand, as yet the benefits of Nature were not wrested vnto vice, neither was her inuention imployed and rauished to satisfie dissolution and excesse. At the first, as casualtie offered the oportunitie, so men discoue­red their faces: but afterwards, when as self-loue had insinuated it selfe amongst mortall men, and made euery man beleeue that he was faire and well pleasing, they oftentimes despised those things, wherein at the first they saw and beheld themselues. But when the world became euill, and began to puzzle themselue [...] in the earth, the vse of Iron was first found out, which had not brought with it any incommoditie, Whence dissolu­tion grew. had men contented themselues therewith. But other mis­chiefes began to burgen out of the earth, which by their lustre began to ap­peare, and please those which otherwise thought not thereupon, so that the one conceiued a delight in beholding a goblet, another an instrument made of brasse, and fit [...]or seruice, and not to be beheld. Anon after some part of the earth was ordained to this seruice, although in other respects: siluer shined not as yet, but some other matter more brittle and of lesse value. At that time also when as these old fathers liued temperately, yet cleanly enough, if they had washed away the sweate and dust, which they had gathered by their daily tra­uell in the fleeting streame; it was enough for them to stroake downe their haire, and to combe their long beards, and in this time euery one serued him­selfe, and assisted others. That haire which in times past was vsually wont to be scattered by mens hands, was dressed and handled by women, but they that had a faire haire, contented themselues with the naturall growth thereof, as we s [...]e Horses and Lions doe. But afterwards, when as dissolution had gotten the better hand of the world, men made mirrors of gold and siluer as great as the bodie, and afterwards garnished them with precious stones, in so much as one of them cost a woman more siluer, then in times past would haue sufficed to endow the daughters of great Captains, that were married vpon the common purse. Thinkest thou that those daughters had a mirror enchased with gold, whereas they were enforcd to borrow siluer to marrie them? O happie pouer­tie, the cause of so worthie a renowne. Had they been rich [...] the Senat had not allotted them their dowrie. But whosoeuer he was that had the Senate for his father in law, vnderstood that he had receiued a dower, which it was not law­full to restore. At this day the summe of money that was furnished by the Se­nate for the daughters of Scipio, was not sufficient to buy a glasse for the daugh­ters of enfranchised slaues. For dissolution inuited by little and little by her riches, is animat [...]d to much immodestie: and vices are growne to their full maturitie. In briefe, by such deuices all things haue beene so confused, that that which we call a womans cabinet, is an equipage of men, nay I will say lesse, euen souldiers baggage. But now the mirror which was onely admitted for ornament sake, is made a necessarie instrument to whatsoeuer vice.

The end of the first Booke of Naturall Questions.

OF NATVRALL QVESTIONS, WRITTEN BY LVCIVS ANNAEVS SENECA, DEDICATED TO LVCILLIVS. The second Booke.

CHAP. I.

ALl that which a man may draw in qu [...]stion in re­spect of the Vniuerse, A diuision of Philosophy into three parts, ac­cording to Se­neca. is diuided into celestiall, ac­riall, or earthly things. The first part examineth the nature of the stars, and the greatnes and forme of those fires, wherein the world is included: whether the heauen be solid and of a firme and concreate matter, or compact of a subtill and thin substance: whether it dr [...]ueth or is driuen: whe­ther the stars are vnder it, or fixed in the contex­ture thereof: how the Sunne obserueth the an­nuall changes; or whether he obserueth an ob­lique course, and other such like questions. The second part intreateth of the impressions of the ayre, and such as conuerse betwixt heauen and earth. Of this sort are mists, raynes, snowes, and thunders that astonish mens mindes. In briefe, whatsoeuer the ayre doth or suffereth, these call we sublime, because th [...]y are higher then the lowest. The third part sufficiently debateth vpon fields [...] land [...], trees, and plants, and (to vse the Lawyers phrase) all that which the earth con­taineth. Whence commeth it to passe (sayest thou) that thou hast put the que­stion of the motion of the earth in that place, Why be inter­mixeth the que­stions of the Meteors. wherein thou art to discourse vp­pon thunder and lightning? Because that the trembling of the earth is caused by the violence of the wind, which is but agitated ayre, which although it plung it selfe vnder the earth, yet ought we not to consider it there, but in that place where nature hath lodged it. I will tell thee a thing that shall be more wonder­full, I must intreat of the earth amongst celestiall things. Why, sayest thou [...] Because that when we discusse in this place the properties of the earth, whether she be broad and vnequall, or immeasurably extended in length, whether it be compact wholly in the forme of a bowle, or assembleth her parts into an Orbe, whether she enclose the waters, or the waters haue enclosed and couered her, whether she be a sluggish or a senselesse creature, or a body full of spirit, but comming f [...]om another place, and such other like things that properly haue a relation or dependance on the earth, and, if a man may so speake it, are placed [Page 778] in the ranke of those things that are most base. But in questioning what the si­tuation of the earth is, in what part of the world it hath beene setled, how it is opposed against the heauen and the starres, this question exceedeth the prece­dent, and is more high.

CHAP. II.

Of the Elements or simple body, whereof one is the aire. BEcause I haue made mention of those parts, into which all the matter of things created are deuided, I must speake some thing in generall, and first of all presuppose, that amongst the bodies that are simple, whence proceede those that are composed, some rec­kon the ayre. Thou shalt vnderstand what this is, and why I must speake thereof, if I ayme my discourse more higher, and if I say, that there is something continued, and wholy one, and some thing contrariwise, consis [...]ing of diuers parts. Continuation is a continuall coniunction of partes amongst themselues. Vnitie is a continuation witho [...]t intermission, and a touch of two bodies vnited in themselues. Is it to bee doubted that amongst these bodies which both wee see and handle, which are eyther felt or feele, but that there are some compound? These are such by conn [...]xion or aceruation, as for example, a rope, corne, or a shippe. Againe, some not compounded, as a tree or a stone. Therefore thou must needly grant, that amongst those things likewise which are separated from sense, but are apprehended by reason; there is in some of them a vnity of bodies. See how I spare thine eares, I could acquite my selfe, if I would vse the Philosophers termes, and say, vnite bodies, but since I forgiue thee this, see likewise that thou giue me thankes. Why so? I [...] at any time I shall say one, remember thy selfe that I referre this not vnto number, but vnto the nature of the body not composed by externall helpe, but by his owne vnity: by this note, ayre is one of the simple bodies.

Of the parts, and of the matter of the world. CHAP. III.

THe world comprehendeth all these things which can fall within our knowledge, of these some are parts, some are left in stead of matter: all nature wanteth matter, euen as euery art that is Ma­nuel. What this is, I will make it more plaine. The hands, the bones, the nerues, the eyes are a part of vs, the sucke of that meat which wee retaine, and such as must bee distributed into partes, the mat­ter: Againe, bloud is as it were a part of vs, which notwithstanding is a matter also: for it prepareth other thinges likewise, and notwithstanding it is of the number of these, by whose meanes the whole bodie is made.

CHAP. IIII.

AYre so is a part of the world, The aire is a ne­cessary part of the world. yea and a necessary part, for this is it that vniteth both heauen and earth, that so separateth the lowest from the highest, that notwithstanding they are ioyned by it. He separateth them because hee is in the middest of [...]hem, and vniteth them, because both of them by his meanes are a­greede together. All that which is sent him from the earth, he communicateth with the heauens. Againe, hee imparteth to terrestriall things, the efficacy of celestiall bodies, which so call I a part of the world, as I doe beasts and plants, for both these kinds of beastes and plants are a part o [...] the world, becau [...]e they haue beene created as things necessa [...]y to perfect the whole, and because the whole cannot consist without them, but one liuing creature and one plant is as it were a part, for although it should die, yet that which is cut off, is of the whole: but ayre as I haue said cleaueth both to heauen and earth, it is borne both and with the one and the other, but that hath vnity, whatsoeuer is a na­tiue part of any thing, for nothing is borne without vnity.

CHAP. V.

THe earth is both a part of the world and the matter. The earth is a part also [...] and the master of the world. I thinke thou wilt not aske mee why it is a part, for as well mayest thou aske mee why the heauen is a part, for no more can the vniuers bee with­out this, then without that; but it is composed of these parts, by meanes whereof hee maintaineth all their stars in their being and vigor, all liuing creatures and all plants. It is the heauen and earth that [...]urni­sheth all creatures and the world (that requireth so many things) with all their vigor, that maintaine so many celestiall bodies in their being, turning so swift­ly continually, and so greedily both in their motion, and in their nourishment. In briefe, by the meanes of heauen and earth, all the nature of things r [...]cey­ueth that which is needfull for it for his nourishment and conseruation. From them likewise hath the world drawne all that which shee needeth, as long as hee shall endure. I will propose vnto thee a little example to make thee com­prehend so great a thing: Egges containe as much humour as is necessarie for the being o [...] that creature which is to be hatched.

CHAP. VI.

THe ayre is so continuate with the earth, Whereof the ayre is composed. and so vnited with it, that as soone as shee departeth from her place, hee supplieth it [...] It is a part of the whole world, A refutation of the error of the Epicure, who composeth the aire of Atoms. and yet the same, and receiueth what­soeuer nutriment the world sendeth him, in which respect wee must take it for matter and not for a part. Hence is all inconstan­cy and tumult, this doe some men compose of distant small bodies, as of dust, and depart very much from the tru [...]h; for neuer is there an accord of a body that is framed of parts, but by vnity when as the parts ought to consent to the intention, and to adde strength thereto. But the ayre if it bee diuided into A­toms, [Page 780] that is to say into small parts, is scattered. And such things as are scattered, may not bee maintained. These things that are swolne and yeeld not to the stroke, The [...]orce of the ayre express [...]d by effects. will shew thee the intention and force of the ayre. Thou shalt per­ceiue it in waighty things, which are carried away by the wind for a great space. Thou shalt perceiue it by voyces, which are eyther more feeble or stronger, ac­cording as the ayre is moued: for what is a voyce, but an intention of the ayre, to the ende it may bee heard, formed by the repercussion of the tongue? What is euery course and motion, are they not the workes of agi­tated ayre? this is it that giueth force to the nerues, and swiftnesse to those that runne: This it is that when it is vehemently moued and troubled in it selfe, Diuers compa­ri [...]ons to confirme th [...] refutation. renteth vp trees and forrests, and bearing vp whole houses on hie, at last breaketh them in peec [...]s. This it is that encreaseth the sea when it is calme & still. Let vs come to lesser matters; for what [...]ong is there without the inten­tion of the spirite? Cornets and Trumpets, and those that by some pressure yeelde a greater sound then may bee deliuered by the voyce, doe they not en­large their sounds by the intention of the ayre? Let vs consider the great effica­cy of [...]eedes so small, as scarsly a man may discerne them, if these fall into the clefts of stones, yet doe they push forth and waxe great in such sort, that they riue and cleaue hugh stones in sunder, and dissolue them in a moment, and smal and tender rootes in their beginning is succession of time skorne and breake both stones and rockes: what else is this but an intention of spirite, without which there is nothing strong, and against which nothing may resist? And by this, if by nothing else wee may conceiue that there is an vnity in the ayre, be­cause our bodies are vnited in themselus; for what else is it that containeth them but spirit? by what other thing is it that our mind is agitated? What is his motion but an intention? What is intention, but out of vnity? what v­nity except it were in the ayre? and what other thing produceth fruites and weake seedes, and rayseth flourishing trees, and extendeth their branches, and stretcheth them out on high, then the intention and vnity of the spirit.

CHAP. VII.

That the ayre is a full body, and not voide, n [...]y­ther in whole nor in part. SOme teare and rent the ayre into small peeces, so as they inter­mixe voyde with it, and they thinke it to bee an Argument that the ayre is not a full body, but that it containeth much vacuity in it, because birdes haue so easie a motion therein, because both small and great may haue their passage thorow it: but they are deceiued; for the like facility likewise is in the waters, and yet may no man doubt of their vnity, which so entertaine bodies, that they alwayes ioyne themselues to them. This doe the Latines call Circumstance, and the Graecians Perist [...]sis, which is as well within the ayre, as in the water: For it enuironeth e­uery body by which it is impelled. There is no need therfore of any voide to in­termixe therewith. But of this in an other place.

CHAP. VIII.

BVt now it is to be gathered that there is a certaine vehemency in Nature, Of the agitation and power of the ayre. and that of great force: for nothing is vehement but by intention, and yet vndoubtedly nothing can be intended by any other thing, except it be intended by it selfe, for we say after the same maner, that nothing can be moued by another, except som­thing were moueable of it selfe. But what is it that may be thought to haue more intention of it selfe then spirit? And who is he that will denie that this is intended, when he seeth the earth, the mountains, houses, and many wals, great Cities with the people, and all the Sea-shoares shaken? The swiftnesse & great extent of the ayre sheweth his intention. The eye presently intendeth his sight through many miles, one voyce at one time resoundeth through many Cities, the light creepeth not on by little and little, but in an instant spreadeth it selfe ouer all things.

CHAP. IX.

HOw can the water be intended except it be by the ayre? Doubtest thou but that that ouerflow of water that riseth and increaseth, The efficacy of this agitation, and how the aire is mixed amidst the earth and waters. from the foundation of the lowest sands and channell, & mount­eth to the very top of the Amphitheater, is without the intenti­on of water? Truely there is no Crane or any other engine that may more mount or driue the water then the spirit. She applyeth her selfe vnto it, she is raised, and indeuoureth many things contrary to her nature, and being created to fleet, ascendeth vpward when the ayre possesseth or impelleth her. Those Barks that are ouer-laden, shew they not that it is not the water but the winde that keepeth them from sinking? For the water would giue place, ney­ther could it sustaine any burthens, except she her selfe were sustained. A Tren­cher being cast out from a higher place into a Fish-poole descendeth not, but leapeth backe; how, I pray you, except it were by the benefite of spirit? How doth the voyce penetrate thick walls, but for this cause, because there is ayre in solid & massiue things, which both receiueth and sendeth back the sound that came from without, not onely intending by the spirit those things that are o­pen, but those things likewise which are hidden, and included? which he may easily doe, because he is no wayes diuided, but by those very meanes whereby he seemeth separated, he gathereth vp himselfe into himselfe. Plant betwixt him and vs thicke walls, and mightie and high mountaines, this hindereth him from comming to vs, but not vnto himselfe, for that is onely intercluded wher­by we may follow him. He himselfe passeth thorow that which is diuided, and not onely spreadeth himselfe not onely thorow the middest, but begirteth it on euery side.

CHAP. X.

Of [...]he situation and diuers quar­ter [...] of the ayre. THe ayre passeth and spreadeth it selfe from the aether [...]all & cle [...]re region, as farre as the earth, more swift, more subtile, and higher then the earth and waters, yet more thicke and wa [...]ghty then that region, being of himselfe colde and obscure; hi [...] light [...]nd hea [...]e are borrowed from another place, yet in euery place he is not like himselfe, for he is changed by his neighbours. The higher part there­of is driest, hottest, and for this cause also the most thinnest, by reason of the vi­cinitie of eternall fires, and those so many motions of s [...]arres, and the continuall reuolution of the heauens. That lower part, which is neerest vnto the earth is thicke and obscure, by reason that it intertayneth the exhalations of the earth. The middle part is more temperate if thou compare it with the higher, and the lower, as much as concerneth drynesse and tenuity, but colder then eyther part; for the higher parts thereof feele the heate of the neighbouring starres: the inferiour likewise are warmed, first by the exhalations of the earth, which bring with them very much heate; againe by reuerberation of the beames of the Sunne, which redoubling their heate, as farre as they may reflect, doe warme him gently: againe, by the warme vapour of liuing creatures, hearbes and plants; for none of all these can liue without heate. Adde hereunto now, not only those fires that are made by hand, and are certain, but such a [...] are coue­red by the earth, wherof som haue broken forth innumerable, are alwayes bur­ning in obscure and secret places. We may also well say, that being the cause of fertilitie in so many places they haue some heate, for colde is barren, and heate is fit for generation. So then the middle Region of the ayre being far dis [...]ant from the higher & lower, remaines cold, because the nature of the ayre is such.

CHAP. XI.

Why the ayre is moueable and inconstant. BEcause whereas it is thus deuided, in the lower part therof it is for the most part variable, inconstant, and mutable. About the earth it doth very much, it suffereth very much, it agitateth and is agita­ted, yet all of it is not affected in the same sort, but diuersly in di­uers places, and in his parts as both vnquiet and troubled. But the causes of this his inconstancy and change, are in some sort ministred by the earth (whose position [...] being diuersly changed, are of great moment in respect of the temperature of the ayre) in some sort by the course of the Planets; a­mongst which thou mayest impute the most to the Sunne. The yeare follow­eth him [...] according to his motions, the Winters and Summers are changed. The Moone hath the next power. The rest of the starres likewise no lesse af­fect the earth then that aire which hath incon [...]ancy vpon the earth, & by their contrary and crook [...]d risings and settings now moue colde, now showers, and are the causes of other iniuries of the earth. Hauing to speake of thunder, lightning, and fulgurations, it concerned me to make this Preface; for since such imp [...]essions are caused in the ayre, it wa [...] necessary for me to discouer the nature thereof, to the end it might more easily appeare, what it might eyther doe or suffer.

CHAP. XII.

THere are three things therefore that happen, Of [...]hree ordina­ [...]ie meteors in the [...], that is, [...]ulgurations, lightnings and thunder. flashing, lightning, and thunder, which are made together, and are not so soon [...] heard the one as the other. Flashing show the fire that lightning sendeth: the one is, if I may so speak it, as it were a threatning and a thunder without noise. The other is the effect and stroake of the threat. Diuers opinions as [...]ching the na [...]ure of [...]hem. There are some of these wherein all men consent, some wh [...]rein mens opinions are different. They accord in this, that all these are made either in the clouds or of the clouds. They likewise confesse that they are of fire, or of a hot and drie exhalation. Let vs now descend to those things that are in con­trouersie. Some thinke that fire is in the clouds, some hold that it is made for a time, and that it beginneth not to be, except then when it appeareth [...] Those that are of this opinion, are not agreed as touching this, from whence this fire proceedeth. For some gather it from the light: other some say that the beames of the Sunne, by force of their reuerberation and frequent reflection, enkindle the fire. Anaxagoras maintaineth that it distilleth from the etheriall region, and that from this so great heate of the heauens many doe fall, which were long time kept and enclosed in the clouds. Aris [...]otle thinketh that this fire is not gathered long time before, but that it shooteth out at that very in­stant that it is formed: whose opinion is thus, Two parts of the world, earth and water, The summe of Aristotles opini­on. Lib. de co [...]lo. cap. 3. lie below, and euery one of these contributeth to himselfe some­thing. The earthly vapour is drie and resembleth smoake, whence arise the windes, the thunders, and lightnings. That of the waters is moyst, and con­verteth it selfe into raines and snowes. But when this drie exhalation of the earth that produceth the windes, being thicke, commeth to ioyne it selfe, that are vehemently closed and locked one within another, it breaketh it selfe. And in this conflict the stroake yeeldeth a noise, such as we heare in our ouens, when the flame cracketh, if the fire be made of greene wood. And as the winde ha­uing some moysture intermixed with him, when as it is assembled and shut in one, bursteth out into a flame. In the same manner, that spirit which, as I said a little before, was expressed by the collision of clouds, and being impa­cted with others, neither can be broken nor presse forth in silence. And dif­ferent the cracke is, by reason of the different dashing together of the clouds, whereof some yeeld a greater sound, some a lesser. But that force of the ex­pressed spirit is fire, vvhich hath the name of flashing or fulguration enkind­led easily, without any force and various; yet see we the fulguration before we heare the sound. Because the sense of the eye is more swifter and exceedeth the eare by farre.

CHAP. XIII.

BVt that their opinion is false: Whether there be fire res [...]rued in the cl [...]uds, or whe [...]her it fal­leth from on [...]igh. that containe the fire in clouds, may be gathered by diuers reasons. If it falleth from the hea­uens, why falleth it not daily, whereas so much thereof burneth continually there? Againe, they haue yeelded no reason why the fire which naturally mounteth vpward, should flow down­wards. For the condition of our fire is otherwise, whose sparkles which haue [Page 784] some waight doe fall. So then the fire descendeth not, but is precipitated and drawne downwards. No such matter befalleth the elementarie fire, which is most pure, and wherein there is nothing that may be depressed, or if any part thereof should fall, the whole is in danger, because that that which is compre­hensible may wholly perish. Moreouer, if that whose leuitie daily hindereth him from falling, hould any thing that is waightie secretly hidden in himselfe, how can he sub [...]ist in a place, whence of necessitie he ought to fall? What then? Are not some fires wont to be carried into the inferiour parts, as these verie lightnings the which are now in question? For they goe not, but they are cari­ed by Fate. There is some power that depresseth them, which is not in the etherial region. For nothing in this region is compelled by force, nothing is broken, nothing falleth out extraordinarily. All is gouerned, there is a re­pured fire that enuironeth the world, lodged in the highest extremities of this round machine, the which doth all that fittingly, which is requisite for the entertainment of himselfe: it cannot moue from thence, neither be abased by any other forren accident, because in the etheriall region there is no place for any incertaine bodie. For those things that are certaine and gouerned striue not.

CHAP. XIIII.

If the aire draw fire from the etheriall region, or if it be enfla­med. YOu say (I tell you) when as you yeeld a reason why certaine stars flee from one place vnto another, that some parts of the aire may draw vnto themselues the fire that falleth from the etheriall regi­on, and that by it they are enflamed aboue. But there is a great difference in this, whether we say that fire falleth from the etheri­all region (which Nature permitteth not) or that by reason of the fierie force it enkindleth those things that are beneath, or that it is enkindled heere. For the fire falleth not from thence (for that cannot be) but is bred heere. We see amongst our selues, that when as fire scattereth it self abroad, that some Islands that haue beene long times hot, conceiue flame, and take fire of themselues. It is therefore likely to be true, that in the higher region of the aire, the which hath this propertie to draw fire vnto it selfe: that fire is enkindled sometimes by the heate of the etheriall region, which couereth and embraceth it on eue­ry side. For it must needs be, that both the lower part of the etheriall region hath somewhat in it that resembleth the aire, and that the highest aire be not vnlike to the lower part of the etheriall region, because that one thing cannot readily passe or ioyne it selfe with that which is directly contrarie thereunto. For these by their neighbourhood by little and little intermixe their force in such sort, that thou mayest doubt whether of them both it is.

CHAP. XV.

The opinions of the Stoicks, as touching the in­flammations of the aire, and the agitatiō of it self SOme of our Stoicks thinke that the aire (when as it is easily chan­ged into fire and water) draweth not from other parts new cau­ses of inflammations, but that in agitating himself, he enkindleth himselfe, and that then when he scattereth the thick and compact concauitie of the clouds, that necessarily in the entershocke of [Page 785] those so vast bodies, there should be formed a great noise. But this conflict of clouds (which hardly giue place the one vnto the other) is of no small force to enkindle a flame, euen as in some sort the hand assisteth the Iron to cut, al­though that cutting be a thing proper vnto Iron.

CHAP. XVI.

WHat difference then is there betweene fulguration and lightning? The difference betweene fulgu­ration and light­ning. I will tell thee: Fulguration is a fire that is spread at large: Light­ning is a fire that is gathered and darted with violence, wee are wont in ioyning both our hands together to take vp water, and afterwards in shutting to force it out, as it were, out of a pipe. Sup­pose such like things to be done there. The straightnesse of those clouds that are compressed and shut together yeeld forth the winde that is shut in them, and by this meanes are they inflamed, and then vomit out fire as it were the stroke of some engine of warre. For wee see Arbelestres and Scorpions push forth their arrowes with some noise.

CHAP. XVII.

SOme thinke that the spirit passing through cold and moist maketh a noise. H [...]w thunders are cau [...]d after Anaximenes opinion. For neither is hot iron extinguished without some sound. But euen as if a burning red hot peece thereof be put into water, it is not extinguished without much hissing: So as Anaximenes saith, when as the winde encountreth with the clouds he causeth thunders; and whilst it striueth and wandreth through the resisting and open clouds, in his very flight he enkindleth fire.

CHAP. XVIII.

ANAXIMANDER referred all things to winde. The opinion of Anaximander hereupon. Thunders, saith he, are the noise of a cloud that is strooken: Why are they vne­quall? Because the shock it selfe is vnequall. Whence commeth it that it thundereth in faire weather? Because at that time also the winde breaketh through the thick and drie aire. But why sometimes doth it not lighten and thunder? because the winde that was ouer-feeble to make fire, And as tuching, thundring and lightning. was strong enough to make a noise: What then is fulgura­tion? It is an agitation of the aire, that separating it selfe and falling out of the clouds discouereth a fire that is feeble and retayned. What is lightning? It is the course and out-breaking of a winde more violent and thick.

CHAP. XIX.

THe opinion of Anaximander is, Anaximanders opinion. that these impressions are made by some influence of the AEtherial Region into these of the aire. So fire impacted in cold clouds maketh a noise. But when it de­uideth them, fulguration followeth, and the lesser force of fires, causeth fulguration, the greater, lightning.

CHAP. XX.

The examinati­on of Diogenes Apolloniates his opinion. DIOGENES APOLLONIATES saith, that som thunders proceede from fire, some are caused by winde. The fire produceth those which he foregoeth and foretelleth: the winde those that yeeld a clap without lightning. I confesse that the one is caused and is without the other sometimes: notwithstanding in such sort, that their power is not separated, but that the one may bee produced by the other. For who would denie that the violent winde in stirring vp a vehement noise, could not likewise make a fire? And who likewise will not confesse this, that the fire may sometimes breake the cloudes, and yet not enforce his passage, if after hee hath trauersed some, hee is stayed and extinct by a more greater assembly of other cloudes. It followeth then that the fire conuerteth it selfe into winde, and that it looseth his light and clearenesse when it burneth and enflameth that vpon the earth which shee hath followed: adde hereunto now, that it must needes bee, that the violence of lightning pusheth forth the winde, and sen­deth it before him, and draweth it likewise after him when hee cleaueth the ayre by so waighty a stroke [...] And therefore it is that all things before they feele the stroke of the thunder, tremble being shaken by the assault of the wind which the fire driueth before him.

CHAP. XXI.

Senecaes opini­on, as touching lightning and thunder, DIsmissing our Masters, for the present, let vs beginne to speake of our selues, & from those things that are confessed, let vs passe ouer to those thinges that are doubtfull: but what is that which is confessed? That lightning is a fire, and fulguration like­wise, which is nought else but a flame, and should bee lightning if it had more force. That it is fire, the heate thereof testifieth, and the effect maketh proo [...]e enough: for lightning o [...]times is the cause of mighty fires: woods & parts of Ci [...]ies are burned vp by it; yea those that are not strucken, yet are they seene to be blasted, and some are coloured as it were with soote. Fur­thermore, all things that are strucken with lightning, smell of sulphure. It fol­loweth therefore that lightning and fulguration is fire, and that the one is inter­mixed with the other, in such [...]ort, as fulguration that is not carried as farre as the earth, and againe, lightning is a fulguration that is carried as farre as the earth. It is not a desire I haue to speake much that lengthneth this discourse; but to the end I may proue that these things are of the same semblance, marke and nature. Lightning is somewhat more then fulguration; Let vs turne this, Fulguration, is almost as much as lightning.

CHAP. XXII.

A comparison take [...] from ma­teriall fire, and that which is terrestriall, that serueth to ex­presse how light­nings and tem­pests grow. IT being manifest that both of them are fires, let vs examine how fire is made amongst vs: for it is made in the same sort, as it is a­boue vs, and that in two so [...]ts; the one is when it is enforced out of a flint stone; the other is, if it be found out by attrition, as when as two woods are long times rubbed the one against the other: e­uery [Page 787] matter will not yeelde thee fire, but onely that which is proper to pro­duce it, a [...] the leaues of Lawrell, [...]u [...]e, and which the shepheards (perfectly ex­ercised therein) well know. It may therfore be that in the same sort the clouds are strucken, [...] beaten one against an other, and thereby yeelde fire [...] Let vs consider with wh [...] force stormes rush in vpon vs, with what violence whirle­wi [...]des [...]e tur [...]ed, wha [...]soeue [...] this storme mee [...]eth withall, is scattered, spred and rauished, and cast farre from the place where it was [...] what wonder is it therefore if so great a force driue forth the fire, eyther from an other thing or from himselfe? for thou seest what heate those bodies may feele that are bla­sted, burned and [...]laine by their passing: by them yet ought wee not to esteeme that these impressions haue as much heat as there is in the stars, whose power is both ma [...]u [...]ilous and confessed.

CHAP. XXIII.

BVt happily those cloudes also that are enforced and driuen a­gainst other cloudes by an agitation of a murmuring wind, If lightning and thunder arise by meanes of the intershocke of cloudes. and that is not ouerstrong, will engender a fire that will shine with­out faling; for there nee [...]eth a lesse fire in fulguration then in lightning. By those things that are ab [...]uesaid, wee haue gathe­red to what heate they [...]ttaine which are rubbed one against [...]n other. Since then the [...]yre which of his nature is easily changed into fire, by the violence of his forces being conuerted into fire is broken. It is both credible and likely that the fire which is fraile, and will sodainely perish, issueth from a matter that is not solide, wherein it may continue long time. It passeth therefore and staieth no longer then his way endureth, for it is pu [...]hed forth without any mat­ter to maintaine and feed it selfe.

CHAP. XXIIII.

HOw commeth it then to passe (saist thou) that where thou say­est, Why the light­ning falleth downewards [...] when as it is the property of it to mount vpwards. that this is the nature of fire to mount vpwardes, yet that the lightning falleth downewardes; what is that false which thou hast spoken of fire? for he as wel mounteth vpwards as he falleth downwards: both of these may be true; for fire by na [...]ure moun­teth like a Pyramis, and if nothing hindreth it, it ascendeth as water by nature is carried downwards; but if some force bee added thereunto to impell it to the contrary, yet returneth shee to the place from whence shee fell by meanes of the shower; but the lightning falleth by the same necessity whereby it is driuen out. In these fires that falleth, which doth amongst trees, whose toppes if they bee tender, may bee so drawne down that they may touch the earth, but when thou shalt let them goe, they will returne vnto their owne place. Thou ar [...] not therefore to respect the habite of euery thing as it is enforced. If thou wilt permit fire to goe whether it will, it will mount to heauen, that is, to the place where euery light thing should bee: but when hee meeteth with any thing that may repulse him, or alter his ascent, this i [...] not naturall vnto him, but seruitude.

CHAP. XXV.

How fire may issue from water, that is to say, from the clouds. YOu mainetaine (sayest thou) that cloudes encountring vehement­ly one with an other engender fire, but if they bee moist and wet, how then can they engender fire, which in all likelyhoods is vn­fitte to haue his beginning from a cloude, as from water.

CHAP. XXVI.

An answere to this question. THat fire that is bred, is not water at the first in the cloudes, but thicke aire, prepared to turne into water, and yet not changed into the same, but now ready and enclined to bee changed. Thou art not to thinke that it is gathered then, but onely powred out. It is made and falleth at once: besides, if I should grant, that a cloud is moist, and full of entertained waters, yet is there nothing that hinde­reth, but that fire may be drawne out of moysture, nay, which thou wilt more wonder at out of humor it selfe. Some haue denied that any thing may bee changed into fire, before it were turned into water. A cloud therefore notwith­standing, the water that it containeth, in some part may render fire, as often­times one part of the wood burneth, the other sweateth. Neither doe I say that these are not contrarie amongst themselues, and that the one destroyeth not the other, but where the fire is more forcible then the water is, the water he obtaineth the mastery. Againe, whereas the abundance of humor exceedeth, then is fire without any effect. And therefore greene wood burneth not. It im­porteth therefore how much water there is. For a little resisteth not, neither hindereth the fire. Why not? In the memorie of our ancestors, as Possidonius testifieth, A no [...]able ex­ample. when as in the AEgean sea there appeared an Island the sea fomed by day, and from the depth thereof there arose a smoake. Afterwards there issued a fire not continuall, but shining and sparkling at certaine times, after the man­ner of lightnings, as often as the heate that was beneath ouercame the waight that was aboue. After this, stones turned out of their places, and rockes partly whole which the winde had driuen forth before they were wholly burned, partly eaten and turned into the lightnesse of a Pumnice stone. At last there ap­peared the top of a mountaine, blacke and almost burned: afterwards there was some what added to the height thereof, and that rocke grew to the bignes of an Island. The same happened againe in our memorie, when Valerius Asiati­cus was Consul. Why haue I related these things? to the end it might appeare, that neither the fire is extinguished when the sea ouerfloweth it, nor the force thereof is prohibited to issue by the waight of mightie waues. Asclepiodotus, the schollar of Possidonius, reported that the Island was of two hundred miles, where thorow the fire appeared where the waters were broken. And if the im­measurable force of waters ascending from the depth, could not restraine the force of the [...]lames: how much lesse can it extinguish fire in the aire, where the humor is thinne, and but like a dew? So that this reason hath no difficultie in it, that may hinder the causes of these fires, which we see neuer sparkle, except at such time as there is an inclination to raine, for in faire weather commonly we see no lightnings. A faire and cleare day feareth none of these, neither the night also, except it be obscured by darke clouds. What then? Doth it not [Page 789] lighten sometimes when as the starres are cleere, and the night is calme? Yet art thou to know that clouds are there whence the brightnesse appeareth, al­though the mountaines hide them from our sight. Adde hereunto (which may be) that the moyst and low clouds yeelde fire, by beating one against another, which mounting into the higher parts, are seene in the cleerest and purest part of heauen, although they are bred in a blacke and obscure cloud.

CHAP. XXVII.

SOme haue so distinguished Thunders, Of the diuersitie of thunders. that they haue said that there is one kinde of them that make a grieuous murmure, such as is wont to forerun an earth-quake, when as the windes that are enclosed vnder the earth doe roare and make a noyse. I will tell you how these men suppose that this may be done. When as the cloudes haue locked the winde within themselues, the ayre that is tossed in the hollow parts therof, yeeldeth a sound like vnto roaring, hoarse, vnequall, and continuate; and therefore also where the Region of the ayre is moyst, it shutteth vp the Thunder from issuing forth; and therfore these kinde of thun­ders are the fore-tokeners of a shower that is at hand. There is another sort that a man may rather call crackes then Thunder, such as which wee are wont to heare when as a bladder is broken ouer a mans head. Such thunders breake forth when as a cloude that is gathered together is dissolued, and sen­deth forth that winde wherewith it is distended. This sudden and vehement noyse is properly called a cracke, which where it bursteth forth, causeth men to fall and sound, and some liuing to waxe stupid and astonished, and wholly beside themselues, whom we call strooken or Apoplectique, whose mindes that celestiall sound hath driuen out of their place. This cracke likewise may be caused by this meanes, that is, when as the ayre that is inclosed in a hollow cloud, and being extenuated by his motion is scattered abroad, and afterwards striuing to haue a more larger place, and retained by the cloude that incloseth him, he maketh a noyse. What therefore? May it not be likewise, that as in stri­king one hand vpon another we make a loud sound, so the clouds that are thick by beating one against another, should make a great noyse, because they are great things that concurre?

CHAP. XXVIII.

WEe see (saith he) cloudes that hemme in the mountaine tops, Why the cloudes thicken aboue the mountaine tops, and yet no thunder follow­eth. and yet no sound is made; first of all they thunder not at euery time they encounter, but then when they are fitly composed to yeelde a sound: when the backe of our hands be beaten together they yeeld no clap, but one palme being strooken against another, there followeth a sound; yea, and it appertaineth much to the matter whether the hands that are clapped one against another hollow, or flat and extended. Fur­thermore, the clouds must not onely goe, but be driuen forward by a great and tempestuous force. The mountaine likewise doth not cut the cloud, but dire­cteth it, and scattereth that which first commeth to meete with it. Neyther doth a bladder likewise, howsoeuer it let out the winde, alwayes cracke: if it be [Page 790] cut in two, it issueth forth without any sense of the care: if you will haue it sound it must be broken and not cut. The same say I of the cloudes, except they shocke together with great violence they cannot make a noise. Adde here­vnto now that the clouds which are gathered together vpon a mountain break not, but are spread abroad into some parts of the mountain, as on the boughs of trees, on bushes, sharp stones, & eminent rocks. Behold how they are dissolued, and if they haue any breath in them they let it out in diuers sorts, which except it breake forth all at once, maketh no noyse, whereupon note that the winde that whistleth aboue a tree thundreth not, but singeth. To make thunder there needeth a great clap that may at one time disperse the whole globe of winde.

CHAP. XXIX.

MOreouer, the ayre is apt of it selfe to entertaine voyces: why not, when as a voyce is nought else but a repercussion of the aire? How effectuall the ayre is in Thunders, and how. The cloudes therefore ought to be seuered hollow, and extended. For thou seest that emptie vessels send more then those that are full, and those strings that are wound vp more then they that are let slip; so Drummes and Cymballs yeeld a sound, because such instruments repell the ayre that resisteth them outwardly, and could not sound in the ayre, except they were hollow.

CHAP. XXX.

Asclepiodotus opinion con [...]ir­med by two rare examples. THere are som of the opinion, amongst whom Asclepiodotus is one, that lightning and thundring may breake forth, by reason of the encountrie of some bodies. AEtna in times past abounded with much fire, poured forth a mighty multitude of burning sand. The day was couered with dust, and sudden night terrified the people. At that time it is reported that there was much thunder and lightning, which were caused by the concourse of drie bodies, and not of clouds; for it is very likely, that in so great an inflammation of the ayre there were none. Cam­byses in times past sent an Armie to the Temple of Ammon, which the sand be­ing scattered by the Southerne winde, couered them like flakes of snow, and at length ouerwhelmed them. And then also it is very likely that there were thun­ders and lightnings, by the attrition of sands rubbing one against another. This opinion is not repugnant to our purpose; for we haue said that the earth breath­eth forth bodies of both natures, and that thorow all the Regions of the ayre there wandereth some drinesse and humiditie: if therefore any such thing hap­pen, it maketh a cloud more solid and thicke, then if it had beene couered by a simple winde; and this cloud may be broken, and yeeld forth a sound. As tou­ching the aboue named accidents, whether it be that the ayre hath beene filled by such streaming fires, or whether it be by the winds ouerturning the sands, it must needs be that a cloude must be first formed, whence afterward there may issue thunder. But drie things engender cloudes as well as moist, and as we haue said a cloud is but the thicknesse of grosse and assembled ayre.

CHAP. XXXI.

IF thou wilt obserue the same, Of the maruei­lou [...] effects of lightnings. thou shalt finde that the effects of Thunder are maruailous; neyther is it to be doubted but that there is some extraordinary and diuine power intermixed with it. Siluer melteth in purses, and yet are they neyther rent nor spoyled. The sword is moulten and scabberd vntouched. The Iron runneth down from the Iauelin top, and yet the steele vnfeared. The wine thickneth and remaineth three daies as if it were yce, when the Tunne is bro­ken. This likewise mayest thou put amongst those things that are worthy note; That men and other creatures that are stroken with lightning, haue their heads turned towards that place from whence it parteth, and that all the tops of those trees that are blasted bend towards the lightning. Furthermore, Serpents and all other venemous beasts loose all their venome if they be touched with light­ning. Whence, saith he, know you this? In envenomed bodies no worme bree­deth; but those bodies that are strooken with lightning are filled with wormes within a few dayes.

CHAP. XXXII.

MOreouer I say that lightnings presage things that are to come, Lightnings are foretokeners of that which is to come. not ministring onely a signe of one or two things, but oftentimes they foretell the whole order of succeeding Fates, yea, and that by e­uident decrees, and farre more manifest then if they were writ­ten. But this is the difference betwixt vs and the Tuscans, who exactly vnderstand this diuination by lightning. We holde opinion, that be­cause the clouds entershock and scatter one another, therfore the lightning bur­steth forth. They thinke that the clouds are rudely driuen the one against the other, to this end, that lightning should issue, and be darted on the earth. For whereas they referre all things vnto God, they are of this opinion that they signifie not because they are made, but that they are made, to the end they should signifie; yet are they ingendered by one and the same reason, be it that either they ought to signifie by a deliberate purpose, or by a consequence: how then signifie they except they be sent from God? How? In such sort as birds who take not their flight to meet vs, yet in flying eyther on the right or on the left hand they haue presaged somewhat. And these, sayest thou, God moueth. Thou makest him too idle, and a minister of small matters, if in some men hee dispose their dreames, in beasts their entrailes, yet are these things ordered by diuine assistance. But the feathers of birds are not gouerned by God, neyther formeth he the entrailes of beasts vnder the axe. The order of the destinies is expressed vnto vs by other more certaine meanes, who euery where publisheth signes of that which shall come to passe long before they happen, whereof some are familiar vnto vs, Whether euery thing that is s [...]ene and vn­derstood [...]ath a signification. the rest are vnknowne. All whatsoeuer is done is a signe of something that is to come. Those things that are casuall, and incertaine with­out reason, admit not diuination. The thing that hath order hath prediction also. Why therefore is this honour giuen vnto the Eagle, that she should pre­sage the matters of greatest importance, or to the Crow, or to a few other birds, and that the chattering of all others hath neyther signification or presage? Be­cause [Page 792] there are many things that are not as yet reduced into Art, and other things which a man cannot reduce, because they are too farre estranged from our acquaintance. But there is no liuing creature that foretelleth not some­what, eyther by his motion or encountrie. All things are not obserued, but some things are noted. Diuination serueth him that will obserue the same. It therfore appertaineth vnto him that hath addicted his mind thereunto. Those things which a man respecteth not, may notwithstanding containe some certi­tude. The Chaldeans in their obseruations respected nothing else but the in­fluence of fiue Planets. What thinkest thou? Iudgest thou that so many thou­sand starres shine to no purpose? And what is that which deceiueth these Cal­culators of Natiuities, but they subiect themselues I know not how to some small number of starres, whereas all they that shine ouer our heads, haue some influence and power ouer vs? It may be that the more neerer Planets doe dart their beames more effectually vpon vs, and that they which haue a more swift­er motion touch vs in one sort, and other liuing creatures in another. But the fixed stars, and those that for their swift course haue an answerable motion to that of the first mouer, and seeme not to stirre, are yet without force and effect in our respects. To speake of these things orderly, we must regard both the one and the other, and know that which is proper both to the one and to the other. But there is no lesse difficultie to know that which they can, as to doubt whe­ther they haue any power or no.

CHAP. XXXIII.

The knowledge of lightnings hath relation to three considerations. LEt vs now returne vnto lightnings, the power wher [...]of is diuid [...]d into three considerations, namely, into their signification, their in­terpretation, and their remedie: the first part respecteth forme, the second diuination, the third expiation. For we must appease the gods, beseeching them to giue vs goods, to auert all euils, to maintaine their promises, and to remit their threatnings.

CHAP. XXXIIII.

What power the Tus [...]ans attri­bute to light­nin [...]s in respect of [...]iuination. THe Tuscans thinke that lightnings haue a soueraigne power; for whatsoeuer other things doe portend, are taken away by the in­tercourse of lightning. Whatsoeuer lightning presageth is fixed; neyther is it changed by the signification of any other presage. A flash of lightning that portendeth some good, abolisheth all the sinister predictions of the entrailes of beasts, and whatsoeuer the flight of birds shall threaten. All that which lightning denounceth cannot be crossed by the presages of the entrailes of beasts or by birds: wherin me thinks they are much deceiued. Why? Because there is nothing truer then truth. If birds haue fore­tolde that which ought to come to passe, this augurie cannot be disanulled by lightning: If it may be; the birds haue foretolde nothing that shall come to passe. I doe not now make a comparison betwixt the bird and lightning, but of two true presages. If both of them foretell that which is to come to passe, they are alike. If therefore the lightning that commeth after abolisheth the iudge­ment of the entrailes, and of the augures, the entrailes were badly looked into, [Page 793] and the motion and cry of birdes worse obserued: for it importeth nothing to know whethe [...] of these two are more strong and puissant in their nature, or whether of both hath proposed more signes of truth, for the signe in this re­spect is equall, if thou say that the force of the flame is greater then that of the smoake, thou liest not; but to deuoure the fire, the flame and smoake are of the same value. Therefore if they say thus, that as often as the entrailes of beasts shall presage one thing, and the lightning an other, the authori­ty of the lightning shall bee more great, happily I shall bee of their o­pinion: But if they mainetaine that a flash of lightning disanulleth the truth which those other signes haue foretolde, and that wee ought not to build on any thing but on this flash of lightning: I say they abuse them­selues; and the reason is, because it importeth not how many passages there be; It is but one thing that shall come to passe, which if it hath beene well comprised in the first prediction and diuination, the second will bee no pre­iudice vnto it. All comes to one: I therefore say, that it skilleth not, if one thing by meanes whereof wee would informe our selues be the same, or an o­ther thing, because that whereof wee enquire is one and the same.

CHAP. XXXV.

DEstiny cannot bee changed by lightning; Why not? because that lightning is a part of Destiny: Whereto then serue so ma­ny expiations and ceremonies; to what purpose is all this, if the Destinies bee immutable? Permit mee to follow the au­stere opinion of those who entreat of these things, and maine­taine that Destinies are no other thing but the solace of a pensiue thought. The Destinies mainetaine their right precisely, there is neyther prayer that mo­ueth them, nor misery or fauour that altereth them. They obserue their irre­uocable course, they passe onward in an assured and vnaltered order. Euen as the water of violent streames neither turneth backe, nor stayeth, but euery waue is forcibly driuen one by an other that beateth at his backe: so the or­der of Destiny is gouerned by an eternall succession, the decree whereof is, not to change that which hath beene ordained and destinated.

CHAP. XXXVI.

BVt what meanest thou by this word Destiny, What Destiny is according to th [...] Stoickes. I thinke it to be an inuincible and immutable necessity of all things and actions: if thou thinkest that this necessity may bee pacified by sacrifices or by oblations of the head of a white Lambe, thou knowest no [...] what diuine things are: you likewise say that the resolution of a wise man cannot be changed: how much lesse that of gods, considering that a wiseman onely discouereth for the present that which is good, but all things are present to the diuine Essence [...] yet notwithstanding in this place will I plead their cause, who are of the opinion that a man may remedy lightnings, and af­firme that expiations are auaileable sometimes to remoue dangers, and some­times to lessen them, or at leastwise to differre them.

CHAP. XXXVII.

To what intent serue th [...]se meanes, if the doctrine of desti­ny [...]e receiued. I Will prosecute hereafter that which remaineth to bee intrea­ted vpon as concerning this matter; meane while wee all of vs are agreede in this point, that wee suppose that vowes are profitable, (the force and power of the Fa [...]e [...] alwayes reser­ued:) for some things are in such sort left in suspence by the immortall gods, that they turne vnto good, if vowes and prayers bee made vnto the immortall gods, This therefore repugneth not against destiny, but is inclosed in the same. Thou wilt say vnto mee, this thing shall happen, o [...] shall not happen; if it must come to passe, if you vow and make your re­quest, yet shall it take effect; if it shall not come to passe, vow and pray as much as you list, it shall not fall out, the consequence of this argument is false, because you haue forgot the exception that I haue put betweene both, that is to say: This shall happen prouided that a man make vowes and pray­ers. It must necessarily follow that to vow, or not to vow are comprehen­ded within Destiny.

CHAP. XXXVIII.

THou presupposest that I confesse my selfe vanquished, and that I auow that this is comprehended also in Destiny, that a man should make vowes: The meanes are inclosed in desti­ny, and are the meanes to attain vnto the end that Destiny or­daineth. so thus they shall bee made; It is destina­ted that such a one shall bee an eloquent man, but vnder this condition, it is destinated that hee bee instructed in good let­ters: the same Destiny therefore that addicteth him to study, will cause that hee shall become wise. An other man shall bee rich, but so as he traffique vp­on the seas: but in that order of fate which promiseth him so great a patrimo­ny, this destiny likewise is inclosed, that hee shall set sayle to the wind, and that by reason thereof without any feare or exception, he shall embarque and sayle. The same (say I) of expiations. Hee shall escape dangers, if hee hath appeased the fore-threatned wrath of the gods by sacrifice. And this likewise is in Destiny, that he must expiate, and therefore he shall doe it. These things haue beene oftentimes opposed against vs, to approue that nothing hath been left in our will, but that all power hath beene committed to Destiny. When as this matter shall bee handled, I will tell you how there remaineth somewhat in mans will, although the Destiny continueth. But now haue I explicated, that which was in question; how if the order of Fate be certaine, the expia­tions and remedies of prodigies preuent the dangers, because these remedies impugne not Destinies, but are comprehended in the law of the same. What then saiest thou, doth the Southsayer profite mee? for although hee co [...]n­sell me nothing, yet must I necessarily make this expiation. It sufficeth, because he is a Minister of Destiny: so when as health seemeth to proceed from Fate, yet ought wee to thanke the Physitian, because the benefite of Fate, came vnto vs by his hands.

CHAP. XXXIX.

CAECINNA saith, Diuers sorts of lightnings in regard of their significations, ac­cording to the Tuscans and Stoiques. that there are three sorts of lightning, the one of counsell, the other of authority, the third of estate. The first precedeth the act, and commeth after the thought; that is, when the flash of lightning counselleth or discoue­reth that which the thought deuiseth: The second, when as a lightning commeth after a thing is executed, to signifie that eyther good or euill fortune shall succeed, The third, when as lightning happeneth, when men are at rest, without thinking or doing any thing. This sort of lightning menasseth, or promiseth, or admonisheth, by reason whereof Caecinna nameth it momentary: but I know not why it should not be the same with that of coun­sell [...] for hee that admonisheth giueth counsell, yet hath it some distinction, and therefore is it separated from that of counsell, because this first perswa­deth and disswadeth, but the third containeth but a simple aduice, to flie an im­minent perill; as when wee feare that our neighbours will decei [...]e vs, or set fire on our houses, or that our slaues conspire against vs. Besides this I see an other distinction: The first concerneth him that thinketh, the other, him that thinketh nothing. Euery thing hath his property, wee counsell those that deliberate, wee admonish those that bethinke not themselues.

CHAP. XL.

FIrst of all the three sorts concerne not all lightnings, Diuers names of lightnings accor­ding to their di­uers effects. but are the significations thereof. For the sorts of lightning are that the one pierceth, the other scattereth, and the other burneth. The light­ning that pierceth is subtle and flaming, taking his flight thorow narrow passages, by reason that his flame is so subtle and thinne, as nothing more: That which dissipateth is gathered together as it were into a ball, hauing intermixed in it selfe the force of a coacted and stormy winde, by meanes whereof this lightning entreth and issueth ordinarily by one and the same habite: his force that is spred at large pierceth not, but breaketh that which it toucheth: that which burneth hath very much terrestriall vapour in it, and is more fiery then flaming: by meanes whereof hee leaueth great ma [...]ks of fire behinde him, that remaine on those things it hath strucken. No light­ning falleth without fire, but wee properly call that a firie lightning, that lea­ueth manifest markes of fire behinde it: but this lightning that burneth or blac­keth, burneth in three sorts; for either it attainteth and blasteth sleightly, or it burneth, or causeth the thing that is struken to fall on fire: the fire is in all this, but there is a difference in the sort and in the meanes: for all that which is burned was bla [...]ed or scorched likewise; but all that which is blasted and scor­ched is not alwayes burned. It may bee that the fire hath giuen but some light attaint; wee know that there are many things that are consumed in the fire without making any flame: for nothing can burne except it be burned. I will adde this word more. One thing may bee burned, and yet not kindled, and something kindled which is not burned.

CHAP. XLI.

The effects of those lightnings that blacke those things which they touch. The Tuscans opi­nions as touch­ing the falling of lightnings. NOw passe I ouer to that kinde of lightning that blacketh those thinges it beateth vpon, this eyther discoloureth or co­loureth. I will discouer the difference of them both. That is discoloured, whose colour is vitiated, not changed: that thing is coloured, whose appearance is otherwise then it was at the first, as blew, or blacke, or pale: The Tuscians and Stoikes accord herein, but they differ in this, that the Tuscans say, that Iupiter darteth his lightnings, and they giue him three different handfuls to cast. The first, say they, admonisheth and is peaceable, and is darted by the good will of Iupiter himselfe. The second like­wise is darted from his hand, but by the aduice of counsell, whereunto hee cal­leth twelue other gods. This kind of lightning sometimes doth seem good but not without harming those vpon whom it is sent. The third also is darted by the same Iupiter, but after hee hath consulted with the gods, whom they call superiours and infolded. This spoyleth and includeth, and ouerturneth all that which it meeteth withall in publike, and in particular; for fire consumeth whatsoeuer it meeteth with.

CHAP. XLII.

IF you obserue this well, you shall perceiue at the first sight that antiquity erreth herein. The explication of the Tuscans opinions accor­ding to Sena­caes mind. What a folly is it to belieue that Iupiter darteth lightnings out of the cloudes, that sometimes catch hold of statues, pillars and trees, blasting sheepe, and other innocent beasts, burning vp the altars, and yet sparing sacrilegious per­sons, and as if hee had not sufficient counsell in himselfe, but that hee must call other Gods to assist him? Likewise that these lightnings which hee of himselfe darteth, are presages of ioy and peace; and that these lightninges which are darted by the plurality of voyces of many of the gods are dange­rous: if you aske mee my opinion, I thinke that the Tuscans are besotted to belieue that Iupiter hath beene in suspence, or ill addressed to execute. For I pray you when hee hath darted those fires which should fall on innocent beasts, and leaue the wicked vnpunished: shall wee say that hee would not vse his greatest iustice, or that it hath not succeeded according to his minde? what was their intention when they saide this? These Wisemen pretending to bridle in the mindes of the ignorant, made them belieue, that there was an ineuitable feare, to the end wee should dread a diuinity, that is aboue vs [...] It was necessary in so great intemperance and corruption of manners, that there should bee some power, against which no man should thinke himselfe able to preuaile. To the end therefore that they who addict not them­selues to doe well, but for feare of strokes should bee affrighted; they esta­blished a iust iudge ouer their heads with conuenient instruments in his hand to chastice them.

CHAP. XLIII.

BVt why is that lightning, The continuati­on of Senecaes opinion, whereby he laboureth to excuse the opini­on of the Tus­cans, as touching lightning. which Iupiter himselfe darteth, onely peaceable, and the other pernicious? Because a prince (which is signified by the name of Iupiter) ought of himselfe to doe good vnto his subiects without euer harming them, except his counsell be of a contrarie opinion. They that are mounted in authoritie aboue other men, learne heere, that the lightning is not darted out of heauen vpon the earth but by counsel, let them therfore call vnto themselues diuers, let them weigh their aduice, moderate their decrees, and haue this thought when they haue occasion to smite any thing: Iupiter contents not himselfe with his owne priuate counsaile.

CHAP. XLIIII.

IN this place neither haue they beene so vnaduised, as to thinke that Iupiter changed his lightnings. These are the trickes of Poe­ticall libertie.

There is another lightning farre more slight,
Forg'd by the CICLOPS hands, wherin lesse fright,
Lesse flame or wrath is put when they are framed,
And this the gods their second lightnings named.

Such an error entered not into the heads of so great learned men, as to thinke that Iupiter had sometimes more slighter and trifling lightnings. But they in­tended this to teach Princes that haue the charge to dart their lightnings a­gainst mens sinnes, that all crimes deserue not the same punishment, but that some are to be punished with extreame rigour, others suppressed by more suf­ferable chastisements, others by censures and aduertisements.

CHAP. XLV.

NEither beleeued they this likewise, Why the Anci­ents attributed to Iupiter cer­taine lightnings of different ef­fects, their opi­nion likewise as touching Iupi­ter, setting downe diuers names according to his different effects that Iupiter is such a one, as we see in the Capitoll, and in other Temples, darting lightnings out of his hand, but they imagine such a Iupiter as the Stoickes doe, who is the keeper and protector of the world, a spirit and minde, which is the work-master and Lord of this world, to whom all names are agreeable. Wilt thou call him Destinie? Thou shalt not erre. On him depend all things, and all the Causes of causes are of him. Wilt thou name him prouidence? Thou sayest well. For his wisdome it is that prouideth for this world, to the end it might be firme and immutable for euer; and that hee should continue his course and his effects. Wilt thou call him Nature? Thou shalt not sinne; for all things haue had their beginning by him, and we liue by his spirit. Wilt thou call him the World? Thou shalt not be deceiued, because he is all that which thou seest, wholly infused into his parts, and sustaining him­selfe by his vertue. The Hetruricus haue beene of the same opinion, and there­fore [Page 798] said they that Iupiter darted his lightnings, by reason that nothing is done without him.

CHAP. XLVI.

Whether Iupi­ter darteth his lightnings him selfe. WHy doth Iupiter passe by those things that are to bee stroken, or strike those which he should not strike? Thou drawest me into a higher discourse, to which I will assigne a better place, and a fitter time. In the meane while I say this, that Iupiter sendeth not down lightning: but that all things are so disposed, that euen those things which are not done by him, yet are not done without reason, which is onely his: Their force is his permission. For although now Iupiter doth them not, yet is he the cause that they were done. He assisteth not all things one af­ter another, but he hath giuen all things their marke, their efficacie, and their cause.

CHAP. XLVII.

The Tuscans di­uision as tou­ching lightnings, confuted. NEither allow I their diuision, for they say that al lightnings are per­petuall or finite, or prolonged. The perpetuall are those whose signification appertaineth to the whole life, comprehending not only one thing, but a succession of all that should happen from the beginning of life vntill the end. Such are the lightnings which are made at such time as a man entereth into the possession of his patrimonie, or into some new condition of life; or when as a Citie changeth her gouern­ment. The finite haue a certaine day and terme assigned. The prolonged are those whose threats may bee deferred, but not wholly preuented or extin­guished.

CHAP. XLVIII.

The reason why this diuision is refuted. WHat the cause is (I will tell you) why I consent not in this diuision. For that lightning which we call perpetuall is finite, for it hath a certaine day prefixed as well as the rest. Neither therefore are they finite, because they signifie a long time. And that which is prolonged is limited also, for by their owne confession, such a menace is certaine vntill such time as a man hath obtained delay. For they auerre that priuate lightnings extend not aboue ten yeares, and that publike cannot be deferred aboue thirtie: and by this reckoning these likewise are finite, because there is a prefixed time, beyond which they may not be proroged. The terme then of all lightnings and their effects is certaine and determinate: for a man cannot comprehend in a certaine time a thing that is vncertaine. And as touching that which wee ought to consider most neerely in lightnings, they speake both generally and confusedly, and they will haue vs to distribute the effects in sort, as after them the Philosopher Attalus and their scholler hath done, which is that wee should regard where, when, to whom, and in what thing the lightning hath falne, what, and how great it hath beene: if I would [Page 799] distribute all these things by parts, what should I doe but enter into an infinite number of distinctions.

CHAP. XLIX.

I Will now set downe the names of lightnings, Diuers attri­butes of light­ning, as ridicu­lous as their prophane Au­thors, exceeding the bonds of Na­turall Philoso­phie. according as Caecin­na hath described them, and will discouer what my opinion is in these. Some (saith he) are postulatorie, whereby those sacrifices that either are intermitted, or not rightly performed are repea­ted. Some monitorie, whereby wee are taught what wee are to take heed of. Some pestiferous, which portend death or banishment. Some fallacious, which vnder an appearance of good, doe vs harme. They giue an vn­happie consulate to those that shall vndertake the charge, and an heritage, the purchase whereof will breed more losse then profit. Some threatning, that of­fer euill but in appearance only. Some murthering, which abolish the threats of precedent lightnings. Some Attestata, that accord with the precedent. Some vnder earthly, which are done in secret. Some ouerwhelmed, which beat vpon those things which before time were attainted and left. Some royall, that show their effects vpon a whole assemblie of people, or vpon the principall places of a free Citie, and whose signification threaten some tyrannicall inuasions into a Common-weale. The Lower, when the earth vomitteth flames of fire. The Hospitals, that by sacrifices draw, or (as they speake it in a more milder terme) in­uite Iupiter vnto vs. But if he be displeased, if then he be inuited, he commeth to the great hazard of those that haue inuited him. The Auxiliarie which are likewise called Summoned, but that commeth for their good, that haue caused it to come.

CHAP. L.

HOw farre more simple was that diuision, which Attalus, A more moderat distinction of the Philosopher At­talus. a man of great note, and a Philosopher of our sort, vsed, who had inter­mixed the discipline of the Tuscan with Grecian subtilties. A­mongst lightnings, saith he, some there are that concerne vs, o­ther some that signifie nothing, or if they signifie any thing, we know not what it is. As touching those that signifie, some of them are ioyfull, some are aduerse, and some neither aduerse nor ioyfull. Of those that are ad­uerse and contrarie, these are the kinds: either they portend some vnauoida­ble euils, or such as may be auoided, or such as may be lessened or prolonged. The ioyfull signifie either such as are permanent, or such as haue small continu­ance. Those that are mixed, either haue a part of good, or euill, or conuer [...] the euill into good, or the good into euill. Those are neither fatall nor ioyfull, which signifie vnto vs some action, whereat wee ought neither to be terrified, nor reioyced: as for example, some long voyage, wherein there is neither feare, nor any thing to be hoped for.

CHAP. LI.

Of those light­nings which haue sign [...]fi [...]ati­on, and concern [...] vs. VNto those lightnings I will return which haue some signification, which notwithstanding concerneth vs nothing, as if in the same yeare the same lightning that fell before falleth once more. There are lightnings likewise that haue no signification in our respect, as those whereof we know nothing, witnesse the lightnings that fall in the spacious extent of the Ocean, or in the desarts: for they haue no signification, and if they haue, it commeth not to our knowledge.

CHAP. LII.

Of the diuers ef­ [...]ects o [...] light­ning, according to the mat­ter it meeteth with. YEt there remaineth somewhat for me to declare as touching the force of lightnings, which effect not euery matter according to the same manner. She breaketh and dissipateth those things most vehemently which are hardest, and sometime passeth by those things that are yeelding without any iniurie: She conflicteth more rudely with stones and Iron, and those things that are hardest, because she is constrained to make her passage thorow them with violence. So then shee openeth the passage, sparing that which is tender and hollow, although it seem to be more proper to take fire, because that in finding a passage she sheweth her selfe lesse violent. Therefore is it, as I haue said, that a man findeth siluer melted in his purs [...] because that fire that is the purest and thinnest passeth light­ly thorow the pores of the leather: but whatsoeuer it findeth solid in building she breaketh in pieces as rebellious and resisting against her. But, as I said, it rageth not after one manner, but by the kinde of euill that happeneth you may see what it is, and by the effects you shall know what lightning is. Oft-times in the same matter one and the same flash of lightning causeth different effects, as in falling vpon a tree it burneth that which is drie in it, pierceth and break­eth that which is hardest, dissipateth the barke, cleaueth the trunke, pulleth vp the roots, smoldereth and partcheth the leaues. It congeal [...]th wine and melt­eth Iron and brasse.

CHAP. LIII.

A Marueilous thing this is, that the wine which is congealed by lightning, Of the parti [...]ular ef [...]i [...]acy of light­ [...]ing in wine. and afterwards returneth into his former estate, killeth or maketh those men mad that drinke thereof. Bethinking my selfe of the cause hereof, I say that there is a mortall efficacy in this fire, wherof it is very likely that some spirit remaineth in the wine which hath beene congelead and frozen. For this liquid substance could not be congealed without some meanes. Moreouer, if lightning toucheth oyle or any fat liquor, it stinketh euer afterwards; whereby it appeareth, that in this [...]ire, so subtile and inforced against the order of nature, there is so powerfull an efficacy, that it not onely killeth that which it toucheth rudely, but also that which it attainteth with the breath thereof. Furthermore, in what place soeuer the lightning falleth men vndoubtedly smell a sent of brimstone, which beeing [Page 801] waightie by nature, astonisheth those that smell it often. But hereafter we will intreate of this at leisure, and will haue (it may be) the meanes to show how all things haue beene deriued from Philosophie, the mother of Arts, which hath first of all sought out the causes of things, and hath obserued the effects, con­ferring the ends with their beginnings, what principally we ought to obserue in the inspection of lightnings.

CHAP. LIIII.

I Will now returne to Possidonius opinion. Fr [...] the consid [...]tion of lightnings, be re­turneth to th [...]se of thunder. The moister part of the earth and terrestiall things being on one side, the drier and lighter part flieth on the other. This serueth for a nutriment to light­nings; that vnto raines. All hot and drie exhalations ascending and attaining into the aire, cannot keepe themselues inclosed in clouds, but breake their prisons; whence followeth that which we call thun­der. All that likewise which refineth it selfe in the aire, is dried and warmed by the same meanes. And this likewise, if it be enclosed, seeketh nothing else, but how to escape and breake thorow with noise. Sometime it escapeth all at once, whence proceedeth a very great thunder, sometimes by parts, and by little and little. This spirit therefore expresseth these thunders, whilest either it breaketh the cloud [...], or flieth by it. But this violent tumbling which the ex­halation maketh in a cloud, is a most powerfull force to enkindle the same.

CHAP. LV.

THunders are nothing else but a sound of the drie aire, What thu [...]der is, and how it is caused. which can­not be done, but when it is either broken, or breaketh. And if the clouds, saith he, be beaten one against another, that nois [...] is made which is now in question, but not vniuersally, because there is no generall conflict, but in certaine places only. Soft things yeeld no sound, except they be strucken against those things that are hard. As a waue of the sea maketh no noise, except it meet with some hard thing that stayeth it. The fire being cast into the water maketh a noise in the quenching. Be it so: All this maketh for me, for the fire at that time maketh not the noi [...]e, but the aire that flieth a thwart, that which extinguisheth the fire: and if I should grant thee that fire doth it, and is extinguished in the cloud, I say that it groweth from the exhalation and the shock. What then (saith he) may not one of these flitting starres fall into a cloud, and be extinguished therein? Let vs presuppose that it may, and that it happeneth sometimes. For the present we seeke for a naturall and continuall cause, not for a rare and casuall euent. Put case that I acknowledge all that to be tru [...] which thou speakest, that sometimes fires doe shine after it hath thundered, resembling shooting and falling starres, yet is not this the cause of thunder, but this hapneth, because it hath thunde­red. What is fulguration? Clidemus denieth that it is a fire, maintaining this that it is but an apparance: euen as by night, after the stroake of the oare we see some brightnesse. This example is not answerable, for this shining appeareth in the water, that which is made in the aire flasheth and issueth forth.

CHAP. LVI.

The definition of thunder, and whence it is caused. HE [...]ACLITVS thinketh that fulguration is but an effect of fire, that beginneth to enkindle it selfe, and a first flame as yet vncertaine, that now is extinguished, and then lighted againe: these did the Ancients call Fulgetra, that is to say, Fulgurations, but wee call them thunders in the plurall number, but the Ancients called it thunder, or a sound. This haue I found in Cicynna, a man very eloquent, who had had some reputation for his eloquence, except Ciceroes shadow had obscu­red him. The Ancients haue vsed this word, making it shorter by a syllable in the midst, which now we make long. For as we say, Splendere, that is, to shine, we say likewise Fulgere, that is, to lighten: but they were accustomed to pro­nounce the second syllable short, and to say, Fulgere, to signifie the sudden brea­king out of light from the clouds.

CHAP. LVII.

Senecaes opi­nion in this point. ASkest thou me what mine opinion is? for vntill this present I haue done nothing but discouer other mens opinions: I will tell it thee. Fulguration is made, when as a sudden brightnesse spreadeth it selfe at large, which happeneth at such time as the aire by subti­liation of the clouds is conuerted into fire, finding no fodder to raise it more higher. I thinke thou wilt not wonder, if either motion extenu­ate the aire, or extenuation endkindle it. In this sort a bullet of leade violently shot out of a peece, mollifieth and melteth it selfe, and the shock of the aire ser­ueth it in stead of fire. And therefore it is for the most part that lightnings are made during the Summer time, because the season is ordinarily hot, and fire is caused more easily by the attrition of hot things. Fulguration and lightning are caused after the same manner, the one shineth, the other is darted. But that hath a lighter force, and lesse nutriment. And to let you know mine opinion in a word, lightning is but an intended fulguration. What, as therefore a hot and smoakie vapour mounteth from the earth into the aire, and hath some­times whirled it selfe amongst the clouds, it finally issueth forth with violence; if it b [...] feeble, then followeth fulguration. But when as fulgurations haue more matter, and burne more violently, they are conuerted into lightnings, and fall vnto the earth.

CHAP. LVIII.

Why the light­ning appeareth at once, and is not extended from high to low, in the forme of a colome of fire. SOme there are that thinke that the lightning mounteth againe, some others say that it staieth after it hath consumed that which nourisheth it, and that the stroake is enfeebled. But why doth lightning appeare all at once, and extendeth not it selfe from high to low, in the forme of a pillar of [...]ire? Because she is wonderfull light, and of a swift motion, so that at one time she breaketh thorow the clouds, enflameth the aire, and then when her motion ceaseth, the flame is extinguished. For the course of the exhalation is not continuall, so as the fire may extend it [Page 803] selfe, but when as by violence he is enkindled the more, hee taketh his carier to escape. Being at libertie, and the combate finished: for the same cause some­times it extendeth it selfe as farre as the earth: sometimes it is dissolued, if any the least resistance doe presse it. Why falleth thi [...] fire obliquely? By reason that it is composed of the aire, which is oblique and crooked, and because that na­ture draweth the fire on high, and violence forceth it downward, it beginneth to be crooked. Sometimes nature and force encounter, as it were, equally, in so much as the fire mounteth and is drawne downwards. Why for the most part are the tops of mountaines stricken? Because they are opposed against the clouds, and the fire falling from the heauens, must needs passe by them.

CHAP. LIX.

I Vnderstand now what long since thou hast desired, Of the true vs [...] of this part of naturall Philo­sophie which in­treateth o [...] light­nings, consisting on th [...] contempt of death, wherof he entreateth amply, and shew­eth that wee ought as little to [...]eare lightning, as any other ac­cidents that en­danger life. Constancie ma­keth worldly ca­sualtie nothing [...] and what thou demandest. I had rather (sayest thou) not know lightnings, then feare them. Learne therefore, of whom thou wilt, how they are made. For mine owne part, I take more pleasure to know how I may not feare them, then how I may define them. I will follow thee whither thou callest me. For in all things, and in all speeches, we ought to intermix somewhat that is holesome and profitable. When as we [...]ound into the secrets of Nature, when as we entreate of diuine things the mind must be freed from all passions, and setled likewise in some sort. The most learned men, (and they that are continually exercised in this studie) haue great need to doe: not onely to saue our heads from those stroakes which are on euery side aimed against vs. But to the end we may suffer them constantly and patiently. Inuin­cible we may be; vnassaulted we cannot be; although that in the meane while there is some hope that we may be vnshaken. How sayest thou? Contemne thou death, and all those things that lead vnto death, whether they be warres, or shipwracks, or biting of wilde beasts, or waight of raines, tumbling downe with a sudden fall: Can they doe any more then diuide the bodie and soule? no diligence can preuaile against these things, no felicitie tame them, no power a­uoid them, Fortune disposeth diuers things diuersly, but death adiourneth all persons indifferently; whether the gods be either pleased or displeased, we must die. And since there is no hope to escape, let vs gather the greater courage. Those creatures that are most cowardly, whom Nature hath framed vnto flight, endeuour wit [...] their weak bodies to worke forth a passage, when as none appeareth. There is no enemie more dangerous then he, who hemmed in on euery side, growes desperate and resolute: for necessitie maketh vs alwayes more violent then valour doth. He that despaireth of his life, performeth the noblest exploits, O that this Pa­gans thought were our nobler Christians medi­tation, they would not then so proudly [...]uer, looke the poore, who are one with them in the graue, and like to be greater then they in heauen. or at least-wise such as may equall the actions of the most reso­lute. Think that we haue bin (for indeed so we are) betrayed and deliuered vnto death. This is true (my Lucillius) we are all of vs reserued to death. For how long time, thinkest thou, shall all this people, that thou seest, endure? Nature will adiorne and burie this in a little time: we need not to dispute of the thing, but of the day; onely we must come thither, either sooner or later. What then? thinkest thou not that he is more fearefull then feare, more foolish then [...]olly itselfe, that maketh long pursuits, and entreateth some delay of his death? Woul­dest thou not iudge him a recreant (that being condemned to lose his head a­mongst diuers others, and alreadie within the executioners hands, that would [Page 804] onely entreate this fauour, that he might be beheaded the last? Thus doe we: we account it a great matter to die latest. All of vs are condemned, and most iustly condemned to a capitall punishment. For (which is greatest comfort to those that are to suffer the most extremities) all mens cause is one. If the Ma­gistrate had pronounced a sentence against vs, euery one should see vs march forward and submit ourselues vnto the Hang-man. What matter is it, wheth [...]r by commandement, or of our owne accord we march vnto death? O how lit­tle sense hast thou, and how small consideration of thy frailtie, if thou fearest death when it thundereth? Doth thy life returne againe by thy feare? Shalt thou liue if the lightning touch thee not? The sword will hit thee, the stone will strike thee, the feuour will shake thee. Lightning is not the greatest, but the fairest of thy dangers. But truly thou should be badly dealt withall, if that in­finite celeritie should preuent the sence of thy d [...]ath, if thy death should after­wards be expiated with sacrifice. If thou also at such time as thou yeeldest vp the ghost, art a signe not of a vaine, but of some great thing. Truely it is a great iniurie for thee to be burned with lightning. But thou fearest when the heauen thundreth, thou quakest when the clouds break, and expirest as often as bright­nesse appeareth. What then? Thinkest thou it to be a matter more honest, to die for feare, then vpon lightning? Lift vp thy head, then I pray thee, more boldly against the menaces of heauen, and when the world shall be all on fire, thinke thou that thou hast nothing to lose in so generall and famous a death. If thou thinkest that this confusion of clouds, this discord of tempests, this conflict in the aire is prepared against thee, and that this great collecti­on of fires conspireth thy ruine: comfort thy selfe likewise by this thought, that thy death is of some great importance. But thou shalt not haue time or place to bethinke thee of this, the very casualtie it selfe caus [...]th f [...]are. And amongst the rest, this is one commoditie thereof, that it pr [...]uenteth thine ex­pectation. For neuer did any man feare lightning, except he that hath esca­p [...]d it.

The End of the second Booke of the Naturall Questions.

OF NATVRALL QVESTIONS, WRITTEN BY LVCIVS ANNAEVS SENECA, DEDICATED TO LVCILLIVS The third Booke. Which intreateth vpon the waters.

THE PREFACE.

AS I am not ignorant, Seneca [...] this his Preface yeel­deth a noble rea­son why in th [...]se his retired years he addicteth himselfe to the serious studies, which is his care he hath to in­struct posteritie. most vertuous Lucillius, that in my re­tyred yeares I lay the foundations of mighty matter [...], so haue I resolued with my selfe to circuit the world, and to discouer the causes [...] and secrets of the same, and a [...]ter­wards to publish them, and to instruct other [...] in them. When shall I attaine so much? When shall I gather toge­ther things so disseuered? When shall I cl [...]erely conceiue those things that are hidden? Olde age hangs vpon my backe, and reproacheth me with my lost time that was spent in vaine occupations; so much the more therefore let vs presse forward, and let labour recompence the losses of a life so ill imployed. Let vs ioyne night with day. Let vs cut off our occupations in worldly affaires, and let the master take no more care of them, let the minde be wholly awakened in it selfe, and at leastwise in this later time s [...]ttle himselfe in contemplation and knowledge of himselfe: which he shall doe if he draw him­selfe to account, and measure euery day the shortnesse of time, he shall recom­pence by diligent vse of the [...]emainder of life, all that which is lost of forme [...] time. It is a great contentment to the minde, when as being displeased and a­shamed of the time that is past, he addicteth himselfe to the excercises of vertue. It pleaseth me to crie out, and publish this verse of the famous Poet,

We lend our haughty mindes more prouder wings [...]
And in small time contri [...]e most mighty things.

Thus would I say were I a childe, and thus were I a young man [...] for there is no [Page 806] time that is not scant enough for so mightie things. But now we haue retired our selues to a matter both serious, graue, and almost infinite, and we debate therein on the afternoones. Let vs therefore doe as they are wont, who set for­ward on long iournies, who recompence their late rising with speedy footing. Let vs make hast, & without excusing our selues by age, let vs manage this price of busines, which though I know not whether I may compasse, yet am I assured that it is great; my mind increaseth as often as he intendeth and thinks on the greatnes of my attempt, and busieth not himselfe about the time, but vpon his deliberation. Som men haue spent themselues in dis-jesting & setting down the acts of forraine Kings, and what the people eyther suffered or attempted toge­ther. How much better is it to reforme our owne infirmities, then to discouer other mens vnto posterity? How far better is it, to celebrate the workes of the gods, then the thefts of Philip, Alexander, & som others? who renowned for ouer­throwing diuers nations, were no lesse plagues amongst mortall men, then in­undations that drown vp euery plaine, or fires which should confound and burn vp the greater part of men and beasts? They write how Haniball passed the Alpes, in what manner he brought the war into Italie, that was fortified by the victories he had obtained in Spaine; how after the ruine of Carthage (his affairs and fortunes growing desperate) he obstinately solicited Kings, offering him­selfe to make warre against the Romans, yea, though it were without an army: how he ceased not, being strooken with age, to seeke out warre in euery angle of the world, so well could he be without his countrey, and so little could he en­dure to be without an enemie. How farre better is it to enquire what is to be done, then what is done, and to teach those that haue submitted themselues to fortune, For the one tea­cheth preuenti­on, the [...]ther a­mongst good men remorse. that she giueth nothing but incertainties, and that all, whatsoeuer shee hath fleeteth away like the winde? For she cannot stay in one place, she taketh pleasure to substitute sorrow in stead of ioy, and to confound them together. Let no man therefore be confident in prosperity, nor diffident in aduersitie. The affaires of the world haue their changes, why art thou proude? Thou knowest not where these things that lift thee thus aloft intend to leaue thee: they shall haue theirs, but not thine end; why lyest thou on the ground? thou art falne to the lowest, it is now time for thee to stand vpright: aduersities are changed to the best, desires to the worst. In thinking vpon the resolution of things, it is good to cast our eye, not onely on particular houses (which a little winde ouerthroweth) but also on publique estates. There are Kingdoms that haue raised themselues from very slight beginnings, aboue those that were their commanders. The auncient Monarchies decayed when they were at their highest: innumerable haue those gouernements been that haue been bro­ken by others. At this day as much as euer, God raiseth vp some estates, and humbleth others: neyther doth he it in a milder sort, but in such manner he di­sperseth them, that there remaineth no appearance of their re-establishment. We beleeue these things to be great, because we our selues are small. Many things haue their greatnesse, not according to their nature, but according to our humilitie: what thinke we to be the principall thing in humane life? It is not to haue couerd the back of the Ocean with our ships, nor to haue setled our con­fines on the shoares of the red sea, neyther for want of [...]inding out land to haue sought the vnknown Isles, in forraging and spoyling the whole world: But it is to haue beheld all these things in thought, to haue conquered our vices (which is the greatest victorie of all others). Innumerable are those men that haue had Cities and Nations vnder their gouernment, but few there are that haue beene [Page 807] Lords of themselues: How true this is the greatest wise men haue testifi­ed, the wisest Philosophers, the greatest Kings haue confirmed to their dis­grac [...]. what is the principall matter? To raise a mans minde a­boue the threats and promises of fortune; to thinke nothing worthy to be ho­ped for: for what is there that is worth the wishing for? As oftentimes as thou shalt giue ouer the contemplation of diuine things, and haue recourse vnto hu­mane, thou shalt see as little as they doe, who forsake the brightnesse of a cleere [...]unne, and enter into a thicke shadow and darkenesse. What is the chiefest mat­ter? To be able to endure aduersities with a constant minde, to suffer whatsoe­uer it be that happeneth, as if thou wert willing it should happen. For thou should doe no lesse if thou thoughtest that all things were done by Gods ordinance. To weepe, to complaine, and lament, is a kinde of reuolt. What is the chiefest? A minde that is confirmed and confident against calamities, not onely an aduersary but a mortall enemy of dissolution, a minde neyther gree­die of anger, neither flying it, that knoweth how, not to expect but to make for­tune, and to march forth against both of these both dreadlesse and vnconfused; a minde that is neyther shaken by her tumult, nor blasted with her brightnesse. What is the chiefest? Not to entertaine euill counsailes into our mindes, to lift cleane hands vnto heauen, to require no good that should be deriued vnto thee eyther by one mans gift, or another mans los [...]e. To wish that which a man may do without any other mans preiudice, namely for a good conscience. And as touching those other things (which the children of this world prize so much) to respect them (although some misfortune should beare away both house and substance) as things that must issue by that place where they entered. What is the chiefest? To raise the minde farre aboue all casualties, to remem­ber that thou art a man, that whether thou be happie, thou must know that this will not continue long, or vnhappy, thou mayest know that thou art not so, ex­cept thou thinke thy selfe so. Worthy contem­plation, O had the light of grace accompanied these lights of nature. What is the chiefest? Aboue all things to haue a free minde: it is not the lawe of the Quirites, but the libertie of nature that gi­ueth this. But that man is free, that hath discharged himselfe from himselfe. To be subiect to a mans passions is a continuall seruitude, from which it is im­possible to escape, a slauerie that presseth with an equall waight, as well by day as by night, without intermission and without reliefe. To be slaue vnto a mans selfe is the seruitude of seruitudes; which is easily dismissed if thou desist from importuning thy selfe in many things, if thou ceasest to haue a wil to bribe thy selfe, if thou set before thy eyes thy weakenesse and age, and say vnto thy selfe, Why am I mad? Why puff [...] I? Why sweat I? Why change I places? Why haunt I the courts and places of conference? I haue neyther neede of much, nor of long time. Moreouer, it shall be good to consider the nature of things: this will first of all cause vs to retire our selues from shamefull matters, and afterwards will separate the bodie very far from the minde, which should be great and sublime. Furthermore those subtile discourses which we haue made in our selues, shall not make vs worse in open assemblies. But there is no­thing more open then these wholsome counsailes, by which we may learne to bridle our vices and furies, which we daily beleeue, but giue ouer neuer.

CHAP. I.

Of the originall of waters, and their causes. NOw let vs enter into the consideration of waters, and examine after what meanes they are made; eyther as Ouid sayth,

Cleare was the fountaine bubling from the sand;
Daining with siluer streames the fruitfull land.

Or as Virgil sayth,

Where by nine channels with a r [...]aring noyse,
The wrathfull sea breakes through the mountain hie
And drownes the fruitfull pastures that are [...]ie.

Or as I finde in my dearest Iunior.

And from Sicilian springs,
ELEVS drawes his wings.

If any reason can discouer their course; how so many huge floudes fleete along both day and night; How the sea furnisheth them. why the one swell and waxe proud through winter wa­ters, other when as the rest are at the lowest, are at their highest. In the meane space let vs separate Nilus from the rest, that hath a peculiar & singular nature [...] wee will reserue a day for him, but now wee will onely intreat of common wa­ters both cold and hote. In which wee are to enquire whether they spring so of their owne natures, or whether they haue other causes. Of the rest likewise wee will discourse, which are eyther famous for their sauour, or for any other parti­cular profite: Their diuers effects. for some helpe the eyes, some the nerues, some heale desperate and inueterate sicknesses that are giuen ouer by the Physitions. Some there are that heale vlcers, some being drunke, fortifie the internall parts, and remedy the infirmities of the lungs and other inward vessels. Some restrayne and stop bloud: in briefe, they are no lesse different in their vse, then in their sauour.

CHAP. II.

ALL waters are eyther standing, or flow, or are collected, or haue diuers veines, What their diuersity and taste is. some are sweete, some are various in taste, other some harsh or salt, or [...]itte for medicine: of which, wee say, some are of brimstone, some of yron, and some of allome. Their sauour sheweth what their property is. They haue besides these many other differences, first in respect of touch, being eyther colde or hote, then in regard of waight, being all either light or heauy. Againe, in respect of colour, some there are that are pure, some troubled, blew and shining. Likewise in re­gard of their effect and wholesomnesse, for some are healthsome and profitable, others are deadly, and some there are that conuert into stone. Some are subtill and thin, others, thicke, fatte, and oyly; some nourish, some passe by without helping him any wayes that drinketh of them, some being drunke cause fecun­dity.

CHAP. III.

THe position of the place is the cause why eyther the water stan­deth or floweth; Of their situati­on. it runneth when it passeth by steepe and ben­ding places, in the plaine it is still and standing: sometimes by a contrary wind it is driuen and caused to mount. Sometimes it is gathered together, and runneth not: It is engrossed by the meanes of showres, and is naturall in respect of her sourse, yet is there no cause to the contrary but that the water may spring and bee multiplied in one place. Which we obser [...]e in the lake Fucine into which all those waters are de­riued that fall from the neigbouring mountaines: Besides this, great and many hidden waters it containeth, which obserue their colour, although the win­ter floudes flow into them.

CHAP. IIII.

FIrst of all therefore let vs enquire, Whence issue so many waters at wee see. how the earth bee sufficient to continue the course of riuers, from whence there issueth so much water [...] wee wonder that the seas receiue not any encrease, by reason of so many riuers that discharge themselues into her. And no lesse wonderfull is it, that the earth feeleth no alteration and damage by those so many waters that issue from it. Wha [...] is it that hath so filled it, that shee can discharge so much out of his secret [...], to furnish at all times? what reason soeuer wee haue deliuered of Riuers, the same will we pro­pose as [...]ouching brookes and fountaines.

CHAP. V.

DIuers thinke that the earth receiueth againe into her whatsoeuer waters shee hath sent out, If the earth gi­ueth and recei­ueth the waters. and that the seas encrease not hereby, because they conuert not that which floweth into them to their vse, but deliuer it out incontinently: for the sea-water by an vnknowne way passeth thorow the earth, and discouereth it selfe againe, and then secretly returneth, and is strained, and depraued in his pas­sages, & being beaten by the diuers ingat [...]s, and [...]u [...]ti [...]s of the earth, laies aside her saltnesse, and chan [...]eth the prauity of her sauor, by passage through so ma­ny different channels, and at last becommeth swe [...] water.

CHAP. VI.

SOme thinke that whatsoeuer raine waters the earth entertaineth, do afterwardes fall againe into the riuers. If raines be the efficient cause of waters. And to strengthen their opinion, they say, that there are very few riuers in those countries where it seldome rayneth. And therefore say they, the deserts of AEthiopia are drie, and that there are few fountaines to bee found within the heart of Africa, because the nature of the ayre is extreamely hote, and [Page 810] for the most part it is alwayes Summer. These places then that haue ney­ther herbes nor trees, but are sandy are very little, or neuer watered with raines, which if they fall they sodainely dr [...]nke vp. But contrariwise it is well knowne that Germany and France and Italie their neighbour abound in springs and riuers, because they haue a moist aire, and a summer, that is not without raine.

CHAP. VII.

THou seest that many thinges may bee vrged against this opini­on: First, The re [...]utati [...] of the former o­pinion. I who am a very diligent digger of vineyeards, af­fi [...]me this vnto thee, that there is no raine so great that wetteth the earth aboue tenne foot deepe. All the humidity consumeth it selfe in the vpper crust thereof, and descendeth not to the lower parts: how then can the raine furnish the riuers with water when as it doth but wette the vpper part of the earth. The greater part hereof is car­ried into the sea by the channels of riuers. The earth drinketh vp a very lit­tle, and keepeth it not, for eyther shee is drie and consumeth that which fal­leth vpon her, or is wet, refusing that which the heauen too lauishly pow­reth vpon her. And therefore riuers increase not vpon the first raines, by rea­son that the drie earth drinketh it all vp. Moreouer, are there not riuers that issue out of rockes and mountaines? What increase should the raynes giue them that streame along the rockes, and find not any earth to stay vpon? Adde hereunto, that in drie places in those pits which are digged two or three hun­dreth foot deepe, there are found sources of liuing waters in a depth, whe­ther the water cannot penetrate; so that you may know that there is no cele­stiall or reserued humour there but onely pure and springing water. This very argument re [...]uteth the opinion of those that alleadge that some fountaines are s [...]ene to cast out water on the toppes of mountaines; whence it appeareth, that waters mount vp on high, or that they are produced there, considering that all raine-water falleth downewards.

CHAP. VIII.

DIuers thinke that as in the exterior part of the earth many vast ma­rishes extend themselues, That the waters flow from some hidden places vnder the earth. besides great and nauigable lakes; and as the seas are stretched out thorow the huge spaces of earth, and [...]re infused into the vallies, so the interior parts of the earth abound in sweet waters, a [...]d that they flow no lesse then the Ocean, and the armes thereof doth with vs, nay rather so much the larger, the more the earth stretcheth out on high: and therefore from that deepe abundance the riuers proceede and are deriued, which why wondrest thou that the earth feeleth them not when they are taken from her, when as the Ocean hath no sense of them when they are added to them.

CHAP. IX.

SOme like of this cause: If aire being conuerted to [...]a­ter vnder earth be the efficient cause of [...]ater [...] They say that the earth hath some secret cauities in her, and much spirits which necessarily waxe cold, be­ing oppressed with a waightie obscuritie, at length becomming slow and without motion, and finally changeth it selfe into wa­ter. Euen as the change of aire is the cause of shadow among [...] vs, so in the earth the aire produceth the water. It cannot long time continue aboue vs, because it is waightie and still. Sometimes it is attenuated by the Sunne, sometimes it is dissipated by the windes, by meanes whereof we see, that there are great spaces betweene raines. But all that which is vnder earth, to make the aire turne into water is alwaies the same, perpetuall obscuritie, conti­nuall co [...]d, vnexercised thicknesse, alwayes therefore will these yeeld causes to fountaines and flouds: if wee agree that the earth is mutable, yet all that shee shall thrust forth is thickned, because it is not conceiued by a pure and free aire, and consequently is sodainly conuerted into water.

CHAP. X.

YOu see now the first causes, Whether water proceede from the earth. how waters are bred vnder the earth [...] Adde hereunto also if thou wilt, That all is made of all, aire of wa­ter, water of aire, fire of aire, aire of fire. Why therefore should not earth bee made of water, and water of earth? which if it bee changeable into anything, may bee changed into water, nay most [...] of all into it. Both of them resemble one an other, both of them are heauie and thick, and are lodged together in the Center of the world. Earth is made of wa­ter, and why should not water be made of earth? But there are great Riuers: But when thou seest how great they are, consider againe from how great a thing they come. Againe, thou wondrest that although some float incessantly, and others flie with a maruailous swiftnesse, yet neuer haue they want of new water. And what wilt thou say, that whereas the windes impell the aire, yet notwithstanding it faileth in no part being not carried in a certaine channell as Riuers, but turning by a sodaine and spacious motion through this vast extent of the heauens? Art thou not amased to see that there is not one drop of water left, after so many billowes that haue beaten against the rocks, and shores. There is nothing deficient that returneth into it selfe. Of the transmu­tation of one ele­ment into an [...]other. The elements doe nothing [...]ls [...] but turne and returne. That which the one looseth, the other getteth: And nature examineth her parts as it were in a ballance, for feare l [...]a [...]t if there were too little on the one side, and too much on the other, the world should fall in­to ruine. All things are in all things, not only the aire passeth into the element of fire, but is neuer without fire. Take away heat from it, it will freeze, it will grow thick, and hard. The aire is changed into water, yet in such sort that be­fore that time it was not without humour. Both aire and water are made by earth, yet is shee neuer lesse without water then without aire. And therefore the passage through both the one and the other is more easie, because shee is al­readie intermixed with those elements through which shee must passe. The earth then hath humiditie, and this shee expresseth. Shee hath the aire like­wise, which is thickned by the shadow of winters cold, to the intent to pro­duce humiditie: Shee is changeable into humour, and vseth her owne nature.

CHAP. XI.

Why Riuers and fountaines are dried vp some­times. WHat, therefore saiest thou, if the causes be perpetuall whereby Ri­uers and fountaines rise, why are they somtimes dried and some­times issue from those places where they were not? Oftimes their passages are intercepted by the trembling and motion of the earth; and ruines cut of these issues, and by restrayning the waters enforce them to seeke new passages, yea and to enforce their way or else to breake forth their way in an other place by reason of some earthquake. It falleth out alm [...]st ordinarily amongst vs, that the Riuers that haue lost their bed first spread themselues, and afterwards hauing lost their way do that which Theophrastus saith, hapned in the Mountaine called Corycus, in which, after an earthquake there brake forth diuers fountaines that were not discouered be­fore. But some thinke that by diuers other intervenient accidents the waters are deriued and drawne from their accustomed courses. The time hath been when there was no water to bee found in the mountayne Hemus, but when as the French men being besieged by Cassander had retyred themselues into those parts, and had cut downe the woods, there appeared a great quantitie of water which the trees had retayned for their aliment: which being cut downe, that humour that was wont to bee consumed in nourishing them beganne to spread it selfe. The like, saith he, hapned also about Magnesia. But if I may speake without any offence to Theophrastus, this matter is vnlikely. For the most part those places that are shadowed are fullest of water, which would not come to passe if the trees dryed vp the moisture, that haue their nourishment so neare: but the force of Riuers springeth from beneath and hath farre more extent and humour then the rootes can containe. Furthermore, the trees that are lopped deserue more humour, not only to maintayne their being, but also for their in­crease. The same man saith that about Arcadia, which was a Citie in Creete, the Fountaines and Lakes dryed vp, because the Citie was ruined, and the land ceased to be manured: but after it beganne to be husbanded, the waters retur­ned againe. By reason of this drynesse they thinke that the earth is hardned, and that remayning vnmanured, it could not yeeld forth water. Whence com­meth it therefore that we see many fountaines in the Desarts and those places that are no wayes put in vse? In briefe, wee finde that there are many places in diuers Countries which haue been tilled vp by reason of those waters that haue beene found in them; and that other some haue not begunne to make shew of sources, because they haue not beene husbanded. For by this shalt thou vnder­stand that it is not raine-water that presently deriueth from a fountayne those vast flouds, that are fit to beare great ships of burthen, because that both in win­ter and sommer these flouds haue their equall course from the beginning vnto the ending. Raine may make a torrent, but not a Riuer, that streameth and floteth with an equall tide betwixt his brincks and bancks. The raines make not the water, but excite the same.

CHAP. XII.

LEt vs (if it seeme good vnto thee) examine this matter more near­ly, Wha [...] is t [...] true caus [...] of Riuers. and thou shalt see that thou art far from thy reckoning if thou consider the true originall of riuers: vndoubtedly it is the aboun­dance of perpetuall water, and such as neuer drieth vp, that is the cause of a Riuer. If therefore you aske mee how water is made, I will intreat you also to answere me how aire or earth is made? if there be foure elements a man cannot aske of thee whence water is, for it is the fourth part of nature: why therefore wondrest thou that so great a portion of Nature may al­waies spread somthing out of it selfe; Euen as the aire which is the fourth part of the world moueth the winds, so the water moueth brookes and riuers: i [...] the winde be a flowing aire, euery Riuer is a flowing water. I haue giuen him suf­ficient force, since I haue giuen him the name of an element: for thou knowest that that which proceedeth from it cannot faile.

CHAP. XIII.

WAter, as Thales saith, The opinion of Thales as [...]ou­ching water. is the strongest of all the Elements, and in his opinion it is the first, because that all things haue beene created of water. For we likewise are either of the same opinion, or iumpe in the conclusion. For we say that it is the fire that occupieth the world, and conuerteth all things into himselfe, which vanishing and being gathered into it selfe, and afterwards being extinct, there remaineth nothing in the nature of things but water, and that in fire the hope of the fu­ture world is inclosed: so the fire is the beginning of the world, and water the ending. Doest thou wonder that Riuers may alwaies issue from this Element, which was in stead of all, and out of which all things were? This humour in the disposition of all things was reduced to the fourth, and so placed, that it might suffer both to produce flouds, riuers, and fountaines. That which fol­loweth is a foolish opinion of Thales, for hee saith that the globe of the earth is sustained by water, and carried after the manner of a boat, and fluctuateth in his mobilitie, and such time as he is said to tremble, it is not therfore to be wondred at [...] that there is sufficient water to make Riuers, considering that all the world is in water. But hisse away and contemne this old opinion. For thou art not to thinke that water entereth by certaine creuises into this world, and worketh out a pompe.

CHAP. XIIII.

THe Egyptians made foure elements, The opinion of the Egyptians as touchi [...]g the number of th [...] elements. and then of euery one of them two male and female. They suppose the aire to bee the male because it is winde, female because it is obscure and still. They call fire masculine, because it burneth with a flame; femi­nine, because it shineth without hurting by touching. The stron­ger earth they call male, as for example, stones, and rocks: they assigne the name of female, to that which is manuable and fit to be employed.

[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]

CHAP. XV.

How and from whence the wa­ters proceed. WHence is the Sea? From the beginning it was so made, hee hath vaines whereby he is impelled, and floweth. As the way of the sea is vast and hidden, so is that of the milder waters, which no course of any riuer whatsoeuer may drie vp. The reason of the forces of the same is hidden. There issueth no more from it then there is superfluitie; we approue some of these opinions, but consider besides these, that which ensueth. I consent that the earth is gouerned by Nature, and that it hath some resemblance with our bodies, wherein there are vaines and ar­teries, the one to containe the bloud, the other the spirit. In the earth likewise there are such waies, whereby the water runneth, and others, whereby the winde whirleth, which Nature hath so formed according to the resemblance of our bodies, that our Ancestors haue called them vaines, which are the sour­ces of waters. But as in vs, besides the vaines, there are diuers sorts of humors, either necessarie, or superfluous and stincking. The braines for the head, the marrow for the bones, the muskles, the excrements of the eyes, the nerues in the ioynts to procure a more easie motion: so are there diuers sorts of humidi­tie found in the earth. Some being ripened, are hardened as mettals, amongst which auarice hath digged vp gold and siluer. There are others likewise which are changed into stone. In some places the earth and water melt themselues, as we see in Bitumen, a clammie, limie, and pitchie substance, and in others. This is the cause of waters that are bred according to the ordinance of Nature. But as in our bodies, so oftentimes in the earth the humours are corrupted, either a stroake, or some shaking, or the age of the place, or cold, or heate offence Na­ture: so a sulphurous earth will draw a certaine humour, which sometimes will continue long, Diuers humidi­ties in the earth, as in our bodies. sometimes little. Euen as therefore in our [...] bodies when a vaine is opened, the bloud floweth so long, vntill there be no more, or vntill the ori­fice of the pricke be shut, and hath a cicatrise; or in any other sort the bloud be stopped: in such sort in the earth, when the vaines of the same are open, the brooks or riuers spread themselues. That only is to be considered how great the orifice is, and how the water is consumed: sometimes it is dried vp by some im­pediment, sometimes it vniteth it selfe, as it were, in a cicatris [...], and followeth that way which she hath made: sometimes this masse of earth, which, as wee said, is immutable, ceaseth to conuert the humiditie into nutriment: sometimes the conduits that are dried are filled againe, either in assembling their owne forces, or gathering it from others. For oft-times those things that are void, be­ing set neere vnto those things that are full, draw the humor from them, which passeth easily into another thing. Oftentimes the earth drieth it selfe, and after­wards becommeth moist. The same falleth out vnder earth, which happeneth in the clouds, that the earth thickeneth her selfe, and engendereth an humidity so waightie, that she can no longer containe it. Oftentimes she gathereth a thin and dispersed liquor like vnto dew, which is gathered from diuers places into one. Those Masters that make fountaines, call it the sweat of the earth, because that certaine droppes are expressed thorow the straitnesse of the place, or are drawne by cunning. In this place there needeth much humiditie for a little source. But as touching the greater riuers, they proceed from very great causes and conceptions, sometimes they flow mildely, if the water hath onely carried her selfe by her owne waight: sometimes with vehemencie and great noise, if the aire be intermixed and push it forth.

CHAP. XVI.

BVt why are some fountaines for sixe houres space full, Of the flux and reflux of some fountaines, and the encrease and decrease of some riuers in certain seasons. and sixe houres drie. It were but labour lost to name all those riuers which swell for diuers monthes, and are small for certaine other. It is not now needfull to seeke out a reason for euery one in par­ticular, since I may yeeld the same reason for all riuers in gene­rall. Euen as the quartan ague commeth at an houre, the gou [...] hath a certaine terme, and purgation, if nothing hinder it, keepeth his critique day, and female produceth her fruit in a prefixed time: so the waters haue their pauses both to [...]bbe and flow. But some spaces are lesse, and therefore more notable, some greater and no lesse certaine. Why should a man wonder hereat, when as thou seest the order of things disposed by degrees, according to assignations. The Winter hath alwaies kept his course. The Summer is warmed in due time. The changes of Autumne and Spring obserue their vsuall customes: both the Sol­stice and AEquinoctium haue reference to their dayes. Vnder earth the Lawes of Nature are lesse knowne vnto vs, yet are they not lesse certaine. Below, thou seest as much vnder earth as aboue. For there are there [...] most spacious dens, in­finite and great retreates, and large spaces betweene the mountaines that are hanged heere and there. There are a number of hollowes and bottomlesse pits that haue swallowed vp whole Cities, and haue hidden strange ruines in their depthes. These caues are full of aire, (for there is nothing void in the vniuers) and in spacious and obscure pooles, likewise, there breed certaine creatures (al­though confused and deformed) as if engendred in a blind and fat aire, and in waters ouergrowne with mud, diuers of which are blinde as Moales, and Rats, that are bred vnder ground, who want light, because they haue no need there­of. From thence likewise, as Theophrastus thinketh, fishes are drawne forth in some places.

CHAP. XVII.

THere are many things in this place which come vnto thy minde, After some di­gression he taun­teth the vnbrid­led vanitie of dissolute men of his time, in re­spect of their ps [...]. which a man may terme after a merrie sort, both incredulous and fabulous, that a man should goe and fish with his pick axe, and not with nets and hookes. I expect that some one should goe a fishing in the sea. But why may not fishes as well haunt vpon the earth, as we trauerse the seas? In the end wee will change our abod [...]. Doest thou wonder at that which I haue spoken? How farre more incredible are the workes of excesse and dissolution, as often as she li [...]t to falsifie and surmount Na­ture? Fishes swimme in the chamber, and vnder the very table the fish is taken, that is dressed and serued in presently to the table. A Barbel newly taken is not delicate enough, if it dieth not in their hands that are inuited to dinne. They are shut vp, serued in, and shewed in pots of glasse, at which time men take plea­sure in their colour, when they are readie to die, which is changed diuersly, when as the fish beginneth to waxe weake, and beateth her selfe to death by little and little. Some they kill in Gar [...]m, or pickle, and dresse them liuing. Whence are those then that thinke it impossible that a fish should liue vnder the earth, and be digged out, and not taken? How incredible would this seeme [Page 816] vnto them, that a fish swimmes in pickle, and that it was not killed for supper, but in the middest of supper, and made much sport, and fed the eyes before it satisfied the belly.

CHAP. XVIII.

He continueth hi [...] reproofe a­gainst mens ex­cesse. LEt vs giue ouer this dispute, and suffer me to censure this excesse. There is nothing more faire, sayest thou, then to see a Barbel die. At such time as she strugleth [...]or life, first there appeareth a red­nesse, and afterwards she is couered all with palenesse, which are equally varied, and the face of the colour is vncertaine betwixt life and death. O long idlenesse of sleepie and sluggish dissolution: too late hath she beene awakened, too late hath she knowne, that she was depriued and defrauded of so great a good. Yet fisher-men enioyed this so great and goodly spectacle, hauing the meanes to see such a fish dead and sodden for their table. We wondered to see them so daintie, that they would not touch the fish, except it were taken the same day, which as they said, should taste of the sea it selfe. Therefore were they carried in poste, and in euery streete whole companies made way for rippiers, that puffing and crying out as they ranne, to make way. But to what height is excesse growne vnto? That fish that is caught and killed to day is reputed rotten. I will not trust thee with a matter of so great impor­tance, I will haue it brought me aliue, and I will see it die. The stomackes o [...] the belly-gods are s [...]zed with this loathing, that they cannot taste a fish, except they haue seene it swimming, and dying at their banquets. The more that ex­cesse and furious desires of superfluities made them ingenious, the more also did their furie contemning all vsuall matters, inuent daily some new subtiltie and magnificence. We haue heard it spoken, that in times past, that the Barbel that was taken amongst rockes, and in stony places, was a daintie dish. But now we heare them say that there is nothing more pleasing, then to see a Barbel die. Giue mee the glasse-bodie into my hands, that I may see it leape and quiuer. When it hath been much and long time praised, it is suddenly taken out of that cleere fish-poole, then euery one as he is cunninger shewes his opinion. See how this rednes appeareth more tinctured then Vermelion. Behold what vains he discouereth on his sides, you would say his belly were of bloud? What cleare and blew colour hath he discouered at one time. Now he stretched out him­selfe, and becommeth pale and of one colour. But amongst all these deuisers, you shall finde none of them that will sit by his friend that lies a dying, no man will haue the heart to see his father yeeld vp the ghost, although he hath wished his death heartily. Who is he amongst all these gourmands, that followeth a dead man of his family to the fire. He will abandon his parents and friends at the last houre, yet notwitstanding they assemble themselues together to see a dying fish? For in their opinion there is nothing more faire. I cannot chuse, but gird at them sometimes, and vse some tart and rude termes in respect of these men, who when there is any question of kitchin-worke, are not content with their teeth, throats, and bellies to feed their excesse, except they sur [...]et with their eyes.

CHAP. XIX.

BVt to returne vnto my purpose, The difference of waters vnder the earth. take this for a certaine argu­ment, that in the hollow places of the earth, there is a great a­bundance of hidden waters that breed much corrupt and mud­dy fish, which if at any time they breake forth, bring with them an immeasurable troope of fishes horrible to sight, and filthy and vnwholesome in taste; truely at such time as a great quantity of this water is sued out o [...] the earth in the country of Caria, neere to the City of Lorina: all they died whosoeuer did eate of those fishes that were drawne out of that Ri­uer which before time was vnknown. Pestilent fishes and why. Neither is this to bee wondred at; for such fishes as these [...] because they had beene long time shut vp, were become great, fat and long, but slimy and fetured in the darkenesse, and had neuer seen the light, whence commeth the wholesomenes of all victuals. That fishes may breede in the hollow of the earth, it appeareth because that E [...]les are taken in hidden places, in troubled waters and pits which yeeld a meate of hard digesti­on, by reason of their sluggishnesse, especially when they are taken in those places where there is so much mudde, as they may wholy bury themselues ther­in: so then the earth hath not onely vaines of water, which by their current may make riuers, but also floudes of great extent, whereof some runne al­wayes vnderneath the earth, vntill such time as they discharge themselues in some gulfe, some appeare vnder some lake. And who knoweth not that there are certaine pooles which appeare without bottome? whereto tendeth this? to show that the great riuers haue a continuall matter to maintain them, whose extremities are not to be touched as they may be in springs & fountains.

CHAP. XX.

ANd why haue waters diuers tastes? The causes of the diuers sa­uours of waters. for foure causes. The first is of [...]he earth thorow which the waters are carried. The second, by reason of the agreement and conueniency of the same. The third of ayre which is transformed into water. The fourth of cor­ruption which hapneth vpon diuers occasions. These causes giue diuers sauors and properties vnto waters. These giue the vertue to heale in­firmities, these yeelde a stinking dampe and a pestilent vapour, the lightnes or heauinesse, or too much heate or colde. It importeth also to know whether they passe by the vaines of sulphure, nitre or bitume. If they bee corrupted by some dangerous minerals, a man cannot drinke of them without the hazard of his life. Therefore it is that Ouid sayth:

The Cicones haue such a floud that being drunke doth change,
Examples of maruailous wa­ters.
Their bowle that do drinke to stone, all else to marble strange.

This is a medicine, and hath a mud of that nature, that it both agglutinateth and hardneth that whereupon it is applied. Euen as the dust of the territory of Pruzzel if it toucheth this water is turned into stone; so contrariwise this water if it toucheth any thing that is solide, it cleaueth, and is affixed thereun­to. Thence is it that such things as are cast into this lake, are forthwith drawn [Page 818] out as hard as stone. The like whereof falleth out in some places of Italy, whe­ther you cast a reed or the leaues of trees into the same, thou shalt draw them out in few dayes in the forme of stone: for the winde incloseth the body on e­uery side, and by little and little taketh hold and hardne [...]h it. This will seeme lesse wonde [...]full and strange vnto thee, if thou obserue how these white and sulphurous waters are hardned and congealed about their channels and pipes. Some such cause haue these lakes whereof whosoeuer drinketh as the Poet saith;

Growes furious [...] or else fals to Lethargie.

It hath the like force that wine hath, but more v [...]hement: for euen as drun [...]kennesse vntill it bee dried is madnesse, and by the weight thereof driueth him that is drunke into sleepe: so the sulphurous vertue of this wat [...]r hath some more powerfull venome in it by meanes of the corrupted ayre, whence fol­loweth eyther fury or lethargie, the like euill hath the riuer Lynces [...]ius.

Which who so drinkes although his draught be small,
Stumbles as if pure wine had made him fall.

CHAP. XXI.

THey that haue lookt downe into some deepe gulses, doe die, so sodaine is the venome which killeth those birdes that doe but flie ouer it, Whence procee­deth these diuers effects in waters. such is the ayre, and such the place from whence this deadly water distilleth. But if the venome of that ayre and place be lesse vehement, the euill also is in some sort lenified, it onely debilitateth the nerues, and stupifieth them, as it were with drunkennesse. Nei­ther doe I wonder, that the place and ayre doe infect the waters, and maketh them like vnto those regions, by which, and from which they come [...] The sa­uor of the pasture appeareth in the milke, and the force of the wine is extant in the vineger; there is nothing that hath not some taste of that from whence it was taken and bred.

CHAP. XXII.

Of the Ocean created in the beginning of the world. AN other kind there is of water also, that as we thinke had his be­ginning with the world, which if it be eternall, so is this likewise, and if it hath any beginning, it likewise hath a beginning with him. Aske you me what this is? It is the Ocean with all those other seas that eyther flow from it, or wash the borders of it, Some are of opinion that certaine riuers, (whose nature cannot bee expressed) haue had their beginnings with the world, as Ister and Nilus, and other spacious floudes, and such as a man cannot reckon in the ranke of others, nor driue them from the same source.

CHAP. XXIII.

THis is therefore the diuision of waters, Diuersity of ter­restriall waters. according to some mens opinions. After these there are celestiall waters, which the clouds powre downe from aboue. Amongst the terrestriall waters, there are some (if I may so speake it) that swim and flow aboue the earth, othersome there bee that are hidden, whereof wee haue yeelded a reason.

CHAP. XXIIII.

SOme there are that yeeld diuers reasons why certaine waters are hote, Why these are hote waters. and others so boyling, that they can bee of no vse, except they be cooled by the ayre, or tempered by the mixture of colde water. Empedocles thinketh that the water is hote by those fires which the earth couereth and concealeth in diuers places, especi­ally if they runne vnder that soyle by which they take their passage. Wee are wont to make certaine Dragons and Serpentines, and diuers other fashions of vessels, in which we fasten diuers little pypes of thin brasse bending downwards, to the end that the water distilling and turning o [...]tentimes before the fire, may get issue in such space of time wherein it may take heate. It therefore entreth colde, and f [...]oweth out hote. Empedocles is of this opinion, that the same is done vnder the earth, to whose opinion they condiscend whose bathes are warmed without fire. A warme ayre is infused thereunto, which serueth in steade of fire. This running through the pypes warmeth the walles and vessels of the bath, as if fire had beene set neere vnto it. In briefe, the colde water is by thi [...] meanes changed into hote, neither doth the euaporation draw any sauour, be­cause it passeth thorow closed and couered places. Some thinke that these wa­ters that eyther passe by or enter these places that are full of sulphure, draw their hea [...]e by the benefite of [...]he matter thorow which they pas [...]e, which ap­peareth by their smell and taste; for they yeeld the quality of the matter which hath warmed them; and least thou shouldest wonder at this accident, powre mee but water vpon quicklime, and it will burne.

CHAP. XXV.

DIuers waters are deadly which neither offend in odour nor in taste. Of venemous & deadly waters. About Nouacris in Arcadia there is a riuer which the in­habitants of the place call Styx which deceiueth strangers, be­cause both in sight, and in smell, it resembleth other [...], such as are the poysons of most cunning poysoners, which cannot bee discouered but by death: but this water whereof I haue [...]poken a little before corrupteth with incredible swiftnesse, neither is there any remedy for it, because that as soone as it is drunken, it thickneth and hardneth as plaster doth in the water, Notable exam­ples. and closeth vp the bowels. There is likewise a cer [...]aine venemous wa [...]ter, in Thessaly about Tempe, which both wilde beastes and all kind of cattell doe flie from, which pierceth both yron and brasse, such force it hath to mollifie [Page 820] those things that are heard. There are no trees that grow about it, nor any hearbes but it killeth them. In some Riuers there is a wonderfull propertie. For some of these there are, which being drunke doe tincture and die the flocks of sheepe, and within a very short space those that wer [...] blacke carrie white wooll; and those that came with white fleeces returne with blacke. The like effects likewise haue two Riuers in Beotia, whereof the one is called Melus, that is to say, blacke by reason of his operation, yet both of these issue from the same lake, though they haue different effects. In Macedonia likewise, as Theophrastus saith, Pliny calleth it Ceron in his se­cond booke. there is a floud, whitherto they that desire to haue white sheepe driue their flockes, which the longer they haue drunke, the more deeply are they dy­ed and turned into white: but if they haue neede of a browne colour, they haue a ready and free Dier, for they driue the same flocke to the floud Cerona. I haue moderne authors that write that there is a Riuer in Galatia, that blacketh all that which is steeped in it, that in Capadocia there is another that changeth the colour of horses onely (and not other beasts) causing their haires to be spot­ted with white. It is well knowne that there some lakes that beare them vp, who cannot swim. The cause of such effects. There was in Sicily, and at this day there is in Siria a pond, on the top whereof whole bricks doe swim, and although heauie things be cast into the same, yet can they not sinke vnto the bottome. And the cause hereof is very manifest. Weigh me a thing whatsoeuer it be, and counterpoise it with water, if the water be more waightie it will beare vp the thing that is lighter then it selfe, and will raise the same aboue her the more lighter it is, and that which is more waightie will discend. But if the waight of the water, and the thing thou counterpoisest with it be equall, she shall not draw it to the bottom, neyther shall it wholly swim aboue the water, but it shall be carried on euen with the water, but shall swim as it were halfe drowned, and eminent in no part. Thence commeth it that some pieces of tymber sometimes float wholly aboue the water, other some are halfe within the water, and others sinke to the bottom. For when as the waight of the wood and water are equall, and that the one thing yeeldeth in no sort to the other that which is more waighty discendeth, and that which is lighter is carried on the top of the water. But we esteeme the heauie and light, not according to our owne estimate, but in comparison of the thing that should carrie and beare vp the same. When as therefore the water is heauier then the body of a man or a stone, O [...] ston [...]s and o­ther [...] things that [...]loat aboue the water. she suffereth not that which is more lighter to sinke vnto the bottom. Whence it commeth to passe that the stones themselues float vpon the water, yea, euen those that are hardest & most solid. For there are many Pummice stones & such as are light, wherof certain Islands in Lydia are composed, the which for this cause swimme in the Sea, if a man will beleeue Theophrastus. For mine owne part I my selfe haue seene an Island in the lake of Cutilias that floated, The reason of the marueilous Isle of Cutili [...]s. another in the lake of Vadimona, another in the lake of Station, swimming vpon the water. The Island of Cutilias hath trees and hearbes growing on it, although the water beareth it vp, and is driuen hither and thither, not onely by a strong winde, but by euery gentle gale whatsoeuer. Neyther remaineth it eyther by day or night in one place, so moueable is it vpon euery breath of winde. There are two causes hereof: the waight of the medicinable water, & consequently more heauie; and the matter of the Isle which is apt to be carried, which hath no so­lid bodie, although it nourish trees. For happily the fat humor taketh hold of, and bindeth together the lighter trunkes, and those leaues that are scattered in the lake. Therefore although there be some stones in the same, yet shalt thou [Page 821] finde them spongie and hollow, such as those are which a thicke water collect­eth and breedeth about the brinks of some medicinable fountaines, which are engendered of the fome that is made by the excrements of the water, that ga­ther themselues together. That thing of necessitie must be light, which is made of another thing that is windie and voyde. There are some secrets wher­of a man can yeeld no reason; There are infi­nite secrets in nature, whereof a man cannot giue a reason. as why the water of Nilus maketh women fruit­full, in such sort that it hath opened and disposed to conception the matrice of some women, that hath been closed by long sterrilitie; why likewise some wa­ters in Lycia retaine the seede conceiued by women, who had their matrice e­uer open. For mine own part, I number these things amongst those that are vn­discreetly and rashly published. Some beleeue that there are certaine waters that breede the scab in mens bodies, or that poured on the skin or drunken, the leprosie, and other white and deformed spots, which vice they ascribe to that water that is gathered of dew. Who would not thinke that those waters that are turned into crystall are most waightie? yet is it farre otherwise; for this fal­leth out in the lightest waters, which the colde very easily congealeth, by rea­son that they are no wayes thicke. But whence this stone is made, it appeareth very plainly by the name which the Graecians giue the same, How crystall is made. for they call it [...], as well the transparant stone as the Ice, whereof it is supposed that the crystall is made. For the celestiall water, hauing very little earthly substance in it, when it is growen hard by the continencie and vehemency of the longer cold is thickened more and more, vntill such time as (all aire being excluded) it shut­teth in it selfe, and that humour which was is made a stone.

CHAP. XXVI.

IN summer some flouds are increased, as Nilus (whereof we will render another reason, Why some Riuers increase in Sum­mer. in a more conuenient place) Theophrastus writeth, that in Pontus there are certaine riuers that increase in the summer time, whereof he iudgeth that there are three causes; first, because at that time most of all the earth is apt to be chan­ged into winter; next, because there are some huge showers that fall in a more remote place, whose waters streaming along by secret passages, are silently dis­charged into the same; thirdly, if the entrie be beaten with continuall windes, and the floud be beaten, and the water mounteth backe againe, which seemeth to increase because it is not poured out into the Sea; Other diuers ac­cidents in Riuers and Fountaines. the fourth reason is from the Planets, for these in some moneths vrge more then in other some, and dry vp the flouds; in other places being farther off, they draw and consume lesse, in such sort [...] that that which is lessened in one season is increased in another. There are some flouds that manifestly fall into some bottomlesse pit, and so are swal­lowed vp from our sight: some are consumed by little and little, and after some intermission return again and reassume both their name and course: the cause is manifest, there is some vacuitie vnder the earth. But all water by nature discen­deth downeward, and is carried into a voyde place. The Riuers therefore that are receiued thither make their secret course, but as soone as any thing that is solid meeteth with them, and stayeth them, by working a passage that resisteth them, lest they renue and pursue their former course. [Page 822]

So when as Licus is drunke vp and drayned
By yawning earth, at last he mounts againe
Far from the place where first it was contayned,
And springs and floats with in another maine,
And now drunke vp, straight with a silent course
Sliding along, he spends his flouds vntamed
Amidst the Gre [...]kish Ocean, and his source
Is in that place proude Erasinus named.

The floud Tygris doth the like in the East; it is swallowed vp, and after hauing made a long iourney vnderneath the earth, at last in a farre remote place it ri­seth againe vndoubtedly the same. Some fountaines at a certaine time cast out their excrement, as Arethusa in Sicilia doth from fiue to fiue yeares, in Summer during the Olympian games: from thence springs that common report, that the riuer Alphaeus passeth from Achaia thither, and running vnder the sea, without discouering her selfe, or breaking forth vntill such time as she hath attained the Sicilian shore. Therfore in those dayes when the Olympique games are solem­nized, the excrements of those beasts that are sacrificed, being cast downe the streame, found their issue and appeare there. This, my deerest Lucillius, hast thou expressed in thy Poeme: the like hath Virgil done, speaking to the foun­taine Arethusa;

So grant the gods, that whilst thy milder waue
The swift Sicanian streame doth vndermine,
That bitter tasted Doris neuer haue
The meanes to intermix his waue with thine.

There is a fountaine in Cheronese of Rhodes, that after a great space of time poureth out from her bottome certaine ordures, vntill such time as it is wholly and intirely purified. The like to this doe diuers other fountaines in other places, which vomit out not onely their mud and the leaues of trees, but also all other things that are cast thereinto. The like doth the Sea in euery place, whose nature is this; to discharge whatsoeuer carkasses or vncleanenesse it hath in it vpon the shores. Some parts of the Sea doe the like in some seasons of the yeare, as about Messina and Milas, at which time she casteth vp vpon the sands, I know not what excrement, like vnto doung, and boyleth and ripleth, exhaling a stinking odor; whence the fable riseth, That the horses of the Sun are stabled there. But there are some things whereof it is a hard matter to yeeld a reason: and as touching this, which is now in question, although some haue diligently obserued when this purgation is made, The causes of the purgation of these Riuers. yet is there no certainty thereof; so that the neerest cause can hardly be found out but onely the generall, which is, that all still and inclosed waters purge themselues ordinarily, for excrements cannot stay in those which haue a current, that carrieth and rauisheth all things with it. Those that push not to their shores that which is falne into them, haue a streame that is lesse or more violent. But the Sea draweth from her bottome, and casteth vpon her shores the bodies of the dead, the wrecks of ships, and those small things that she receiueth purging her selfe as well in faire weather as in stormie.

CHAP. XXVII.

BVt this place moueth me to demand when the destinated day for the deluge shall come, The description of a d [...]luge that ru [...]nateth the whole world. how the greater part of the earth shall be couered with waters? whether it shall be done by the vertue of the Ocean? whether the water that appeareth shall raise her selfe against vs? whether the violent raines shall fall without intermis­sion, or if the winter hauing driuen away the former shall breake the clouds, and power downe abundant waters; or if the earth shall more largely extend all her waters, and shall discouer new fountaines, or whether there shall be di­uers concurrent causes to one so great a desolation, so as the raines shall fall in great abundance, the Riuers shall exceede their bounds, the Seas forsaking their ordinary limits shall couer the earth, and all waters gathered together, shall run in one company, with a deliberation to extinguish mankinde. Thus it is; no­thing is difficult vnto nature, especially when she [...]asteth to her end: in the crea­tion and beginning of things she vseth her forces sparingly, and dispenseth her selfe by fallacious increases; but when she entendeth ruine, she suddenly em­ployeth all her forces. How long time is there required from the day of the conception of a childe, vntill the time he forsaketh his mothers wombe? with how great labours is he brought vp from his cradle? and what care must there be had in breeding and bringing vp this little bodie? But how suddenly and without labour is he brought to nothing? An age buildeth Cities, but an ho­wer destroyeth them. The wood that hath flourished long is made ashes in a moment. All things stand and flourish vnder a prouident care, and are dissolued quickly and suddenly. All that which nature would alter in the estate of things that are created, sufficeth to ruinate mankinde. Wh [...]n as therefore this necessi­tie of time shall come, the destinies moue many causes at once, and without a great concussion of the world so great a change [...]annot be made, as some think, amongst whom is Fabianus. First of all the immeasurable raines fall, and the hea­uen is wholly couered, without any appearance of the Sunne: a thicke, moyst, darke and continuall fogge inuironeth the earth, and ceaseth not to distill, ney­ther Vines or corne attaine vnto their maturitie: all seeds are lost in the earth, the [...]ields are couered with such hearbes as grow in Marishes and Plashes, ex­pecting as yet some greater desolation; for the roots are loosened, the trees fall, the Vine and euery other plant hath no more holde of the earth that is soft and fluid. It sustaineth no more by the meanes of the waters [...] eyther hearbe or grasse: famine presseth all men, and they enforced to seeke their sus [...]enance after the manner of the auncients beate downe and shake downe the Burgens and Acornes of the Holme and Oake, and all such that in such necessities a tree may furnish, being shaken or beaten with stones. The rotten houses fall vnto the ground, the foundations sinke being mouldred and loosened by moysture, the whole earth is glutted with water, and in vaine doe men labour to vnder­prop that which falleth to ruine. For euery foundation is in a slippery place, and in a muddie ground there is nothing stable. After that the showers increase more and more, and those snowes that were gathered in ages begin to melt. A headlong torrent, falling from the highest mountaines carrieth and hurleth a­way whole woods that haue no setled roote, and tumbleth these stones that are washed away from the earth with the rest. It drowneth villages, carrieth away troopes of beasts, and those little cabbans that it meeteth withall, and then as­saulteth [Page 824] the greater houses. Afterwards it ouerturneth Cities and draweth a­way with it the inhabitants, inclosed in their owne walls, who know whether they shall sinke vnder their houses, or perish in the water; so sudden is the acci­dent that eyther should oppres [...]e or drowne them. Afterwards, being increased by some other torrents that ioyne themselues with her, they ouerflow all the Champaine. Finally, being swolne and ouercharged by the ruine of diuers na­tions, it layeth holde on all things. As touching the Riuers that are spaci­ous in themselues, and are rauished by the torrents, they forsake their channels, what think you wil become of Danubius, the Rhine, and Rhosne, who in their channels haue a torrent that runneth marueilous swiftly? What can they doe, when after they haue ouerflowed their bounds they are made new Riuers, and hauing broken the earth haue got themselues a new passage? With what vio­lence floweth the Riuer of Rhine when it falleth into the Champaine coun­tries, and finding an extent sufficient to weaken his waues, filleth himselfe euery way with water, as if he were inclosed in some straight channell? And Danubi­us likewise at such time as he not onely beateth the foote, but also the midst of the mountaines, yea, approacheth the very tops of the same, bearing with it not onely the moistened sides of the mountaines, but the rockes that are hurried downe, and the Promontories of great Regions, which by reason of the weake­nesse of their foundation are separated from the continent. At length, finding no passage because it hath included it selfe it swelleth on euery side, and swal­loweth vp at once a whole extent of countries and Cities. Meane while the raines continue, the heauen thickneth more and more; and thus by course of time the euill is augmented. The precedent obscuritie becommeth blacke, fearefull and terrible, night incessantly beaten with dreadfull lightnings, which the heauen darteth one after another: the Sea seemeth to be enraged being in­creased by the accesse of so many flouds, and too much restrained at such time as she was within her bounds. The shores stand no longer, they exceed their limits, the torrents permit them not to enlarge themselues, and push backe the flouds, wherof the most par [...] as it were arrested by a barre that is not sufficient­ly large, get passage from the one side vnto the other, and make a new Sea, and make the Champains resemble a standing poole. At that time as farre as the eie may aime there is nothing that can be discouered but water. All the noise com­meth from the bottom, and the waters are the highest aboue all things, onely in the tops of mountaines there are certaine shallow places, where men saw themselues, with their wiues and children, driuing their cattell before them: all traffique and entercourse betweene Nations ceaseth because the water hath filled all the vallies. In some the highest place, the remainder of mankind main­tained themselues, who being reduced to this extremitie had this sollace, that their feare was translated into stupiditie, being so astonished that feare could not hurt them In briefe, they were touched with no sense of griefe which looseth his force in him that is miserable aboue the sense of euill. So then the moun­taines resemble Isles, and increase the number of the Ciclades, as the most inge­nious Poet most wittily specifieth, saying as the greatnesse of the thing requi­red him,

All things were Sea, nor had the Sea a shore.

Except he had reduced so much vigour of wit and plentie of matter to triuiall toyes, saying, [Page 825]

The Wolfe his head amongst the sheepe did reare,
And waltering wa [...]es did furious Lions beare.

This is to exceed measure to jest and wanton it, in the ruine of the world. He spake mightie things, and began to set downe the image of so great a confusion, when he said,

Th' vnbridled flouds run through the Champaine plaines,
And mightie Towers lie buried vnder flouds.

It was magnificently spoken if he had taken no care what sheepe and wolues did. But can any one swim in such a deluge and ouerflow? And were not the beasts drowned as soone as the waters had layde holde of them and carried them away? Thou hast conceiued the image and description of this disorder, as great as it should be: if the heauen it selfe fall, endure it. Thou shalt know that, which becommeth thee, if thou set before thine eyes the whole world floating in water. Let vs now returne vnto our purpose.

CHAP. XXVIII.

THere are some that thinke that the earth may well be beaten with excessiue raines, but not drowned. If the earth may be drowned with waters. Those things that are the greatest must be violently strooken: the raine will spoyle the corne, the haile will beate downe the fruit, the Riuers will ouer­flow their bounds, Whence procee­deth a deluge, according to Se­nec [...]es and the Stoicks opinion. and yet will not forsake their channels. Some there are that attribute this ruine to the ouerflow of the Sea. It cannot be that a deluge should proceede from the violence of torrents, or raines, or riuers. When the end of the earth is neere, and that it pleaseth nature that all mankind should perish, I grant that continuall and immeasurable raines fall from the heauens: that the Northerly winds are suppressed, that the Southerly blow: that the clouds, the tempests, and riuers increase.

Yet harmes doe more increase,
The corne is washt away vpon the plaine,
The Plowman spends his vowes, and toyles in vaine;
All what the yeare could yeelde for paine or cost;
Is drownd in water, and the labour lost.

It was not necessary that the earth should be offended, but only hidden. After these beginnings the Seas increase, but beyond measure, they spread their waues more largely then euer the greatest tempest did. The windes them­selues that raise them at their backes, entangle themselues with the waues of the Sea, which breake themselues vpon the shores that are farre estranged from sight. Afterwards when they had enlarged themselues, made a new Sea, from the depth of the greatest Sea there ariseth a new floud, which bringeth with it a mischiefe farre greater then the former; for euen as the matter of the ayre and the aetheriall Region is very ample, so is that of the water, which aboundeth marueilously in her secret places, shee being sufficiently moued (for the flouds are the ministers of destinie) makes the waues swell [Page 826] wonderously, and animateth her selfe violently. Then riseth she to an incredible highnesse, and mounteth aboue the highest and most as [...]ur [...]d retreates of men. It is no difficult matter for the element of water to raise it selfe aboue the high [...]est toppes and Promontories of the earth. For if a man measure by the eye the crest of the highest mountaines, hee shall finde that the sea [...]qualleth them in heighth; for the globe of the earth is equally round. The [...]e caueties and plaines are such, that on euery part they make an orbe, wherein are compre­hended these as which make a part thereof, and fulfill the round. But euen as hee that casteth his eyes a long way, deceiueth himselfe and cannot depre­hend the places, which by litle and litle bow downward so can we not compre­hend the bowings of the [...]ea, and all that which we see seemeth to be a plain, yet is it round and like vnto the land. Therefore also is it that the sea swelleth not much, but incontinently slideth away, because it is enough for her to rise a lit­tle, eyther to equall or surmount the rest, neyther slippeth shee away from the bankes where shee is lowest, but from the middest, where the great assembly of Waters is. In what season the flux and reflux of the sea is greatest. But euen as the flux and reflux of the sea is accustomed [...]o bee the greatest, during the Equinoctiall in the time of the coniunction of the Sunne and Moone; so the deluge that is sent to couer all the earth, and which shalbe the greatest and most violent that men are accustomed to see, draweth a more infinite abundance of water with it, and neuer abateth vntill it hath surpassed and couered the toppes of the highest mountaines. The fluxe and refluxe of the sea increaseth and decreaseth in some place more then a hundreth miles, and neuer fayleth but keepeth alwayes the same order; for it increaseth and decrea­seth by measure. God speaketh of­tentimes by Pa­gans mouthes that which is assured in chri­stian beliefe. But in the time of deluge, it neyther keepeth measure nor rule. How commeth this to passe sayest thou? in such sort as the end of the world shall bee by an vniuersall fire. Both the one and the other shall come to passe at such time as it shall please God to giue a beginning to better things, and giue an end to the olde, Fire and water haue the dominion ouer terrestri­all things, From them proceede the beginning and end of all things, as oft then, as it pleaseth the heauens that things shall be renued, the sea shall ouerflow vs, in such sort as the fire from aboue shall lay hold on all things, when by an other end he would bring all things to nothing.

CHAP. XXIX.

He continueth to speake of the causes of deluge in his sense, and according to o­the [...] mens opini­ons, but by the light of nature the transcendent knowledge i [...] [...]ying in the bo [...]ome of true Christians. SOme thinke that the earth is shaken also, and that the ground be­ing broken open, there appeare new heads of riuers, which cast forth more abundance of waters, as from a place that is as yet full. Berosus that hath interpreted Belus saith, that thi [...] is caused by the motion of the starres, and maintaineth it so assuredly, that hee sticketh not to set downe the time of the end of the world, as well by fire as by water, affirming that the earth shall be burned at such time as all the stars which now holde diuers courses shall meere in the signe of Cancer, so setled and placed in the same point, that a man may draw a direct line thorow all their centres and circles, that the deluge shall couer the earth, when as the same stars shall assemble and meete together in Capricorne. In order, the one is the longest day in Summer, and the shortest day of the winter vnder the other. The signes are of great efficacy and power, which vpon the changes of the yeare cause such moments: for mine owne part I reiect not any of the causes (for one alone [Page 827] cannot cause so much mischiefe) annexing vnto them that which the Stoikes thinke. Whether it be that the world be a spirit or body, by the disposition of of nature, it containeth in it trees, plants, and all that which it ought to doe and suffer, from the beginning of the world vnto the end thereof, no otherwise then in the seed are inclosed all the parts of the body of a man which should be formed. The Infant that is borne in his mothers wombe, hath the rootes of the beard and haire hee shall weare one day. In this little Masse likewise are all the lineaments of the body, and all that which austerity shall discouer in him. So the originall of the world hath no lesse contayned the Sunne, the Moone, the reuolutions of the Starres, the birth of liuing creatures, as the causes of the change of terrestriall things. In them hath beene the deluge which com­meth by the order of heauen, The Paradoxe of the Stoikes as touching the vniuersall de­luge, and the end of the world, re [...]u [...]ed by the celestiall v [...]ritie contained in Moses, where a promise was made to the Patriarch Noe, that there should be no more any vniuersall de­luge. euen as Winter and Summer doe. It shall not therefore bee done by raine, neyther by inundation of the sea, neither by qua­king of the earth, but with all these accidents which shall assist Nature, to the end that her determinations should be accomplished and executed: yet as tou­ching the principall cause, it shall proceede from the earth it selfe, which as we haue said is changeable, and must resolue her selfe into water. Whereas there­fore the end of all things shall bee come: at such time as the parts of the world must perish and bee disanulled, in such sort as they may bee moulded a new, and made better then before, there shall more water bee made then e [...]er there was: for now the aliments are distributed to euery one according as it is behouefull. There must something at that time ioyne it selfe with an other, to the end that such things that subsist in counterwaight should be troubled and confused by the inequality that should happen. The most shall bee found in the water, that hath nothing more for the present, then that which is necessarie to enuiron the earth, and not to drowne it: if you will adde any thing thereunto, it must need­ly discharge the same in an other place. How shall it then be, that the earth as being leas [...] powerfull, shall sinke vnder that which is more strong? Shee shall beginne at that time to rot her selfe, and afterwardes being moistned to melt it selfe into humour, and to fall to mudde. At that time the riuers shall mount a­boue the mountaines, and shall shake them with a mighty force, and afterwards shall swallow them without noyse. All the earth shall vomit out waters, the toppes of the mountaines shall breake forth in fountaines. Euen as the whole­somest parts of the body become sicke, and these that are neerest to an vlcer wax vlcerated: so the mightiest regions of the earth conuerted into water shall melt themselues likewise, and shall distill from all parts. The rockes shall cleaue in sunder to giue passage to the waters that shall assemble themselues to make a sea. The Straights of Venetian and Sicilian seas shall bee no more Charibdis and Scilla shall not bee spoken of. The new Sea shall swallow vp all these ficti­ons, and the Ocean that at this day beguirteth the remotest partes of the earth, shall then bee in the midst of the waters. What shall then bee? The Winter shall dominere ouer all other seasons, the Summer shall bee no more, and e­uery starre that before time dried vp the earth shall haue no more heate or ef­fect. All the names of particuler seas, as that of Casp [...]um, Erithrea the red, The Mediteranean, the greater seas, and others shall perish [...] being all of them inter­mixed together, and all that which nature had disposed in part [...], confused in one: neyther Rampiers nor high Towers shall warran [...] any man. The templ [...] shall no wayes profite the suppliants, nor the high places of Cities, because the water shall ouertake those that [...]ie, and beare them away out of their strongest Towers. Th [...]s predictio [...] is wholy fals [...]. It shall from East to West, and one day shall bury all mankind, ouer­turning [Page 828] all that which fortunes fauour hath cherished so long time, all that which is so much raysed aboue the common, the great pallaces, riches, magni­ficence, and mighty Monarchies.

CHAP. XXX.

An other error that the earth is made to bee drowned because in an vniuersall deluge, where as God by Moses speaketh ex­pr [...]sly to the con­trary. AL things as I haue said are easie vnto nature especially, those things which shee hath resolued to doe from the beginning, whereunto she commeth not sodainely but determinately. But from the first day of the world, as from his informed vnity, shee came to take this habitude which wee see shee hath, shee prefixed the day wherein the earth should bee drowned, and to the end it might not bee an en­terprise of difficult execution as if it were a new worke: the seas long since haue exercised and fashioned themselues thereunto. Seest thou not how the floudes of the Ocean runne towardes their bankes, as if they sought liberty: Hast thou not obserued how the floud hath aduanced it selfe, and put the sea in possession of the earth? Doest thou not perceiue how the sea doth nothing but [...]ome, and tempests against the bounds which restraine her? What dan­ger is there in that part where thou hearest such a tumult, and from whence is­sue so many riuers with so great noyse, where Nature hath lodged so much water to assaile vs on euery side, when shee thinketh fitte? Is it not true, that in digging the earth wee finde water, and when as eyther vndermined by a­uarice, or pushed forward by an other cause, wee haue digged and searched a little deeper, sometimes a bloudy death ensueth. Furthermore, there are certaine Lakes vnder the earth that are maruailous great, and much hidden sea; besides a great number of riuers that streames thorow certaine passages vnder earth. There shall bee therefore on euerie side certaine courses of this deluge, some part of the waters floating thorow the earth, others about the same; these being long times brideled and restrained shall finally gette the vpper hand, and shall ioyne their floudes with the riuers, and the pooles with the marishes. The seas shall fill the brims and mouthes of all fountaines, and shall enlarge them. Euen as the belly in emptying it selfe wasteth our bodies as the forces are dissipated by swet; in like sort, the earth shall melt i [...] selfe, and other causes ceasing shall finde a meanes to plunge and drown it selfe in it selfe, so thinke I that so many great things shall confound them­selues together, neyther shall there bee any long delay in the ruine. When as once the world shall remitte any thing of his course and diligence, and the accord which is betwixt the partes thereof shall bee shaken, inconti­nently the cloudes shall breake forth, the waters beneath shall is [...]ue from their bottomlesse caues to couer the earth. There is nothing more vio­lent, more hard to bee stayed, more rebellious, or more pernicious to those that would restraine the same then a violent water. Shee shall vse the liberty which was granted her, and by the commandement of nature shee shall fill all that which shee rrauerseth and enuironeth. Euen as the fire issuing from diuers places sodainely setteth all on fire, Vnderstanding this of time to c [...]me, it is a mee [...] [...]able, it was once in Noahs t [...]me, and shall bee no more. the flames conspiring and as­sembling together to make one body; so in a moment the seas that are ven­ted and powred forth, shall come and ioyne in one; but the waues shall not rage alwayes thus: but after that, mankind shall bee ruined, and beasts like­wise be brought to confusion, whose natures men had taken vpon them; the [Page 829] earth shall sucke vp the waters, and constraine the sea to returne within his bounds, and to tempest in her channell. The ocean being driuen farre from our limits, shall be chased into her caues, and the ancient order shall bee reestablished. Euery liuing Creature shall bee engendred anew, and the earth shall bee inhabited with innocent men, and borne to better hap. But mankind shall not perseuer long in this integrity; it shall onely bee for as long time, as men shall bee, new wicked­nesse shall incontinently flie into the middest of them [...] Vertue is hard to bee found, shee requireth a guide and gouernour: but as touching vices, men learne them without a Master.

The End of the third Booke of the Naturall Questions.

OF NATVRALL QVESTIONS, WRITTEN BY LVCIVS ANNAEVS SENECA, DEDICATED TO LVCILLIVS The fourth Booke.

THE PREFACE.

What content­ment a vertuous man receiueth by himselfe. THou art much delighted (my Lucillius, the best of me) in Sicily and in the gouernment of the same: because as thou writest vnto me, it is full of repose and without trouble. But it will please thee farre more, if thou wilt containe thy selfe within thy limits, and makest not that an Empire, which is but a Procuration and [...]ouernment. I doubt not but thou wilt carrie thy selfe in thi [...] sort [...] I know how farre thou art estranged from ambition, and how familiarly thou art addicted and de­lighted in honest retirement and the studie of good letters. They that cannot support and containe themselues, haue need of the conuersation of men, and multiplicitie of affaires. But thou accordest very well with thy selfe: neither wonder I that few men are partakers of this so great good: wee are all of vs too imperious and troublesome to our selues. Sometimes we cherish our selues too much, otherwhiles too little. To day our hearts are puffed vp with pride, to morrow couetousnesse tormenteth vs: now are we prostituted by vaine plea­sures, anone after burned with cares and trauaile, and that which is worst of all, we are neuer alone and retired to our selues. We [...]ust [...]eeds therefore be in con­tinuall debate, being accompanied by so many enormous vices. Doe there­fore, my Lucillius, that which thou wert accustomed to doe: seperate thy selfe as much as thou canst from the communitie, neither permit thy selfe to be ac­costed by flatterers, for these are their crafts [...]masters in bewitching the greater and richer sort. The poyson o [...] [...]lattery a taste for great men. Thou shalt hardly esca [...]e them, although thou take heed of them. Beleeue me, they will entrap t [...]e, if thou betray thy selfe to their trea­sons. Flatteries haue naturally this force, that they are pleasing, although they be reiected; and being oftentimes ex [...]luded, at last they are entertained. Re­pulse [Page 831] maketh them encrease, neither is there any disgrace or outrage that can tame them. That which I shall speake is incredible, and yet very true. A man is hit most of all in that place where he is most open, and happily he is therefore [...]i [...] because he lieth open. Dispose thy selfe therefore in such sort, that thou mayest be assured that thou canst not be touched, that thou mayest be impeni­trable: when thou hast caried the chariest eye, he will strike thee thorow those armes that thou reputest the most assured. Some one will vse his flatterie se­cretly and sparingly, another openly counterfeising the foole in all mens sight, as if that his simplicitie were not cunning. Plancus, who had been [...] one of the cunningest Sicophant [...] before Vellius time, said that we ought not to flatter s [...] ­cretly, nor with dissimulation. In vaine, saith he, is flattery, if it be obscured. The flatterer getteth very much when he is discouered, and more likewise if he blush after he hath beene taunted. Thinke that thou shalt mee [...]e with a great number of such as Plancus was, and that it is not [...] sufficient remedie against flat­terie, to refuse to be praised. Crispus Passienus, whose equall I n [...]uer know in sub­till discouerie of all things; especially in distinguishing and [...]uring vices, often­times said that wee onely put too the dore against flatte [...]ies, but shut them not out, in such sort as we are wont to put it too against our she friend, which if she thrust it backe it contenteth vs, and more gratefull is it, if she breake it open. I remember that I haue heard the great Philosopher Demetrius say to a certaine slaue that was enfranchised, A goodly touch against a fool [...]sh rub man, and a comedie a­gainst auarice. and was become very rich, that the shortest way for him to heape vp great wealth, was that day wherein he had repented him­selfe that he had a good conscience. I will neuer, saith he, enuie your practises, but will teach them, that haue need, the meanes how to escape shipwrack, how to flie from those contentions that happen betweene buyers and sellers, not to trust to the incertaintie of a countrie life, to retire themselues from the exercise of lesse certaine pleading; lesse, in what manner likewise they may not only ea­sily, but ioyfully enrich themselues, and impouerish those that are at their ease and quiet. I will sweare (saith he) that thou art higher then Fidus Annaeus, and Apollonius Picta, although thou hast but a meane and crooked statute, as Fracas had. If I say that thou art the most liberall man amongst all others, I shall not lie: when as it may seeme that thou hast giuen all men that which thou hast left. So is it, my Iunior, the more that flatterie discouereth it selfe, the more wicked, impudent, and outragious it is, the sooner deceiueth it. For we are now growne vnto that madnesse, that he that flattereth vs little, seemeth to be a man of no honestie. I was wont to tell thee that my brother Gallio (whom no man loued but heartily, The praise of Gallio, Sene­caes brother. neither loued he any man but entirely) knew not other vices, and likewise hated this. Thou hast tied him euery wayes. Thou hast begun to ad­mire his great and excellent spirit aboue all others, which rather wished to bee cursed, then to doe any thing worthy shame. But he suddenly retired his foot. Thou beganst to praise his frugalitie, he cut thee off in the beginning. Thou be­ganst to admire his humanitie, and vnaffected affabilitie which rauisheth those that heare them in passing by, and greatly oblige those to whom they are ad­dressed. For there is no man liuing more agreeable vnto another man, then this man vnto all men, whilest in the meane space the power of a naturall goodnesse is such, that it sauoureth no wa [...]es of art or simulation. There is no man but will suffer that a publike good should be imputed to him. And in this place likewise he resisted thy flatteries, in such sort as thou exclaimedst that thou hadst found a man that was armed against all attempts, whom euery man would entertaine into his bosome. Thou didst confesse that thou didst so much the more admire [Page 832] his prudence and pertinacie in auoiding ineuitable euils, because thou wert in hope that thy words should be entertained with an open eare, although thou flatteredst, because thou spakest the truth. But so much the rather learned he to resist them the more. For the truth is alwayes assailed by those things that haue a resemblance of truth. Yet will I not haue thee displeased with thy selfe, as if thou haddest done amisse, or as if my brother presumed that thou preten­dedst to iest with him, How we ought to entertaine a flatterer. or to circumuent him. He discouered thee not, but re­pulsed thee. Conforme thy selfe to this example: when as any flatterer com­meth vnto thee; say vnto him, Go I pray thee, and carie these flattering spee­ches (which are accustomed to leape from one Magistrate to another, that haue these Apes and Sargeants marching before them) to some one that will pay thee with the like, and taketh pleasure to heare all that which thou wouldest speake vnto him. I will deceiue no man, neither can I be deceiued. I would be praised by you, if you were not accustomed to praise the wicked. But what nee­dest thou to bring thy selfe into that strait, that flatterers should touch thee so neerly? Let them be farre estranged from thee, when thou desirest to be praised well. Why shouldest thou be indebted to any for it? Prayse thy selfe, and say: I haue addicted my selfe to the studie of the Liberall Sciences, How a man ought to prise himselfe. although pouer­tie perswaded me to the contrarie, and withdrew my thoughts thither, where my studie might returne me present gaine. I aimed my thoughts at little pro­fit breeding poesie, and addicted my selfe to the holesome studie of Philosophy. I [...]ue shewed that euery man is capable of vertue, and strugling thorow the o [...]ritie of my birth, and measuring my selfe not by my condition, but my minde; I haue equalled my selfe with the greatest. The enmitie of barbarous Caius could not driue me from my sincere intention, Messalus and Narcissus vn­happie conspirators against euery man, enemies a long time of the publike weale, before they were foes to their priuate fortune, could not crosse my reso­lution. I haue hazarded my necke to maintaine mine honor, I haue not spoken that word, that was against my conscience. The care I alwayes had, was for my friends and not for my selfe, and the feare, that I was not so true a friend as I should be. I neuer wept womanish teares, neither after the manner of a suppli­ant haue I lifted vp my hands to any man. I haue done nothing that either was vnworthy a man, or a good man. Being greater then mine owne perils, and rea­dy to encounter with those that threatned me, I gaue thanks vnto Fortune that would sound me, how highly I prised faith. So great a thing should not cost me so little. She kept me not long in suspence, for the things that were in ballance were not equall, that is, whether it were better that faith should perish for me, or I should perish for it. I haue not violently thrust my selfe into a desperate re­solution of death, whereby I might discharge my selfe from the furie of migh­tie men, I saw with Caius torments, I saw fires. I knew in times past, vnder him, that humane affaires were brought to that estate, that it was recounted amongst the workes of mercie to be simply slaine. Yet thrust I not my selfe thorow with my sword, neither cast I my selfe head-long into the sea, to the end that the world might see that I would not die, except it were to remaine faithfull. Con­sider moreouer my courage, that could not be corrupted with bribes, and that in this rude conflict of auarice, I haue neuer soyled my hands with foule lucre: Moreouer, my sobrietie, my modestie in words, my affabilitie towards my in­feriours, the reuerence I haue borne my superiours. The meanes to reproue hypocri­sie, and to forti­fie vertue. Hauing said all this, aske counsell of thy selfe if thou hast spoken truth, or told a lie: if truth, Then art thou praised before a great witnesse: if a lie, without witnesse thou hast exposed [Page 833] thy selfe to laughter. But some one might thinke, that either I would surprise thee or proue thee: beleeue which thou wilt, and beginne by me to feare all o­thers. Cast by that verse in Virgil.

Faith is secur'd in no place.—

And that which Ouid saith.

Throughout the world ERYNNIS changeth round,
As if addrest and sworne with felon rage,
To leaue no sinne vnsought for in this age.

Or that of Menanders (for who hath not whetted the greatnesse of his wit a­gainst this, detesting the conce [...]t of mankind that tendeth vnto vice?) All, saith he, liue otherwise then they should, and the Poet hath leaped into the Sceane as if he were a Clowne: he excepteth neither old nor yong, nor woman, nor man, and addeth that euery one without exception doth euill, and that wic­kednes is growne to the full. We ought therefore to flie, and to returne into our selues, nay more, we are to depart from our selues. Although the sea separateth vs, The sincere loue betwixt Seneca and Lucillius. I will assay to make thee partner of this good, that is, in lending thee my hand at such time as thou knowest not what way to take, and making thee to attaine to a place more secured: and lest thou shouldest haue a sense of thy soli­tude, I will deuise with thee from this place as often as I may. We will be one in that part wherein we are best: we will counsaile one another, not depending vpon the presence of him that heareth. I will lead thee farre from Sicily, to the end thou shalt not yeeld too much credit to Histories, beginning to please thy selfe as often as thou shalt say in thy selfe, I haue this prouince vnder my go­uernment, which hath sustained and broken the armies of the mightiest Com­mon-weales of the world, when the honor of a long war hath remained for ma­ny yeares in suspence, at such time as she saw the forces of foure Princes gathe­red together in one place, namely, of all the Empire, hauing taken away the pro­sperity of Pompey, wearied that of Caesars, translated that of Lepidus, and surpri­sed all the rest, that was present at the strangest spectacle that may possibly be thought, whereby all mortall men may learne how sudden the fall is from high to low, and by how many diuers wayes Fortune causeth the power of this world to decline. For at one time she hath scene Pompey and Lepidus cast from their high degree to a lower, but by different meanes, considering that Pompey fled before Caesars armie, and Lepidus his owne.

CHAP. I.

BVt to the end I may wholly draw thee from thy selfe, He entereth into discourse of the encrease of Ni­lus in Summer. although Sicily hath in it and about it ma­ny wonders, yet will I not for the present enter­meddle with any questions concerning thy Pro­uince, but will draw thy thoughts another way. For wee will now deuise together vpon that which we haue touched in the former Booke, whence it is that Nilus floweth and encreaseth in the Summer monethes. The Philosophers haue left in writing, that Nilus and Danubius resemble one another, alledging that the source of Danubius is vnknowne, and that it is more great in Summer then in Winter. [Page 834] Both the one and the other appeared to be false: for wee finde that the head-spring thereof is in [...]ermany, and it beginneth likewise to increase in Summer, (yet Nilus alwayes remaineth in his accustomed measure) that is to say, about the first heates, at such time as the Sunne growing more hot about the end of the spring time, causeth the snowes to melt, which Danubius hath consumed, before that Nilus beginneth to increase: Danubius decreaseth during the rest of the Summer, and returneth to his greatnesse in Winter, according to which it is measured.

CHAP. II.

In what time of the Summer this increase is made. BVt Nilus increaseth in the heart of the Summer time after the AE­quinoctiall, before the rising of the Dog-starre. Nature hath set this famous floud before the eyes of all mankinde, and hath dis­posed it in such sort that it should ouerflow Egypt, especially at such time as the earth, being parched by the most burning heats, [...]hould draine out the water from the d [...]pth, and should draw as much as the drinesse of the whole yeare required. For in that part which inclineth towards AEthiopia, it raineth not, or if sometimes certaine raines doe fall, yet recomfort they not the earth which is vnaccustomed to raine water. Thou knowest that Egypt hath no other hope but in the water of Nilus, by meanes whereof the yeare is either fruitfull or barren, according as Nilus hath exceeded her bounds eyther more or lesse. There is no labourer in that countrey that lifte [...]h vp his eyes vnto heauen; wherefore then may I not sport my selfe with my Poet, and alleage vnto him is Ouid, saying,

The herbs to IVPITER make no request
To send them raine from heauen to wet their crest.

If a man could comprehend from whence Nilus beginneth to encrease, The passages and courses of Nilus. hee should finde likewise the causes of the increase thereof: but hauing run thorow the great desarts, it spreadeth it selfe into Marishes, whence comming to dis­gorge himselfe into diuers currents that run here and there; first he beginneth to assemble them all together about Philus, which is a stony Island, ful of moun­taines and hard to be landed at in any part, begirt with two Riuers, which mixe themselues in one, and fall into Nilus, whence they take their name. Nilus more large then violent, round about this place being discharged from AEthiopia, and running thorow the sands, that make a way vnto those which traffique in the Indian Seas, The Cataracts of Nilus. is receiued into Cataractes a famous place, by reason of the mar­uailes that are seene therein. In this place Nilus rayseth it selfe am [...]dst high rockes and such as are hollowed and diuided in diuers parts, employing in this place all her forces. For the stones he meet [...]th withall breake him, in such sort as he attempteth to escape by the straights. In euery place where it findeth any breach or resistance it floateth and gathereth together his waters, which he had carried along without any noyse, and passeth with violence and vehement o­uerflow thorow the most difficult passages, being no more like vnto himselfe, because in these straights it rouleth wholly troubled and muddie. But com­ming to beate vpon the rockes, it fometh, and at that time the iniurie of the place, and not his nature, maketh him change colour. Afterwards, hauing s [...]r­mounted [Page 845] all that which hindereth him, he falleth suddenly and plainely into a marueilous depth, with such a noise as astonisheth the inhabitants of the coun­trey round about, who hauing been planted in those places by the Persians, and being vnable to endure the continuall thunder that deafened their eares, went and encamped themselues in places more remote, and better for their rest. A­mongst the wonders of this riuer, I haue heard more tell of the incredible bold­nesse of those who abide in those quarters. Two men shippe themselues in a little boate, which the one of them guideth, and the other emptieth. Hauing long times balanced amidst the troubled waues o [...] violent Nilus, they goe and retire themselues into some narrow channels, by which they escape the dan­gerous passages of the rockes, where leaping into the middest of the streame, they gouerne the boate that is turned ouer them with their hand, and diuing their heads downeward to the great amaze of all the inhabitants that behold and bewaile them with bitter teares, thinking that they are swallowed vp in this gulfe of waters, they show themselues againe, and appeare very farre off from the place where they diuided so swiftly, as if they had beene pushed for­ward by some engines, receiuing no other harme by the violent fall of this [...]u­rious streame, but that it bringeth them to still water. The first increase of Ni­lus is obserued about the Isle aboue mentioned. A little further off it is se­parated by the meanes of a rocke, A rocke whence first encrease of Nilus i [...] percey­ued. which the Grecians cal Abatos, on which no men set foot except it bee the Priestes of that place. These stones first of all feele the encrease of Nilus. Farre off from this there appeare two rockes, which those of the Country name the veines of Nilus, from whence there issueth a great abundance of water, but not su [...]icient to couer AEgypt. When any fe­stiuall day commeth, the Priests cast in their mony, and the gouernours their iewels of gold in that part of Nilus. The which becomming more mighty in all mens sight, runneth by a deepe and large channell, yet not so great as hee might well haue, if it were not restrained by the mountaines that hem it in on euery side. Finally he getteth liberty about Memphis, and hauing the Cham­pion at his command, In what place hee getteth his freedome. hee maketh diuers riuers, and entreth into channels made by hand running thorow all Egypt, in such measure as they could wish, who diuert the streame. From the beginning hee deuideth himselfe into two armes, and then reioyning his waters, hee issueth foorth after the manner of a Lake or troubled sea. His violent course relenteth by reason of the extent of the prouinces, ouer which hee is spred, embracing both on the right and the left hand all Egypt. As much as Nilus encreaseth, so much is there hope of fer­tility, neyther doth the computation deceiue the husbandman, it is so answe­rable to the measure of the floud, which seemeth to fatten the sandy and altered earth, vpon which hee powreth his streame, and dischargeth his mud al at once: for hauing his waters troubled, hee leaueth the thickest in drie places, and such as are exposed to heate, afterwards hee manureth all the desert field with all the fat which hee hath brought with him, aiding the territorie by his inundation, & by this glewing and clammy fatnesse, in such sort as all that which is not wate­red, remaineth barren and desert. Encreasing beyond measure he hurteth. By this reckoning behold a ma [...]uailous floud, which whereas many other small riuers doe but wash and waste the lands, diminishe [...]h them nothing, but con­trariwise fortifieth them: for by the meanes of his mudde hee fat [...]eth and bin­deth the sands: so that Egypt ascribeth not onely her fertility, but her good ter­ritory also to the same. It is a goodly thing to behold Nilus when it hath co­uered the champion. The fields are hidden, the vallies are couered, or appeare [Page 836] not but in forme of Isles. There is no traffique in the Midland places, except by boats, and the lesse the people see of these fields, the more reioyce they. But when as Nilus containeth himselfe within his bounds, hee floweth by seuen mouthes or chanels into the Mediterranean seas, The mouthes or chanals of Nilus. and which of these mouthes thou wilt consider it is but a sea. True it is that it spreadeth some other little armes in other shores which haue no name. Besides there are foūd in this riuer diuers monsters as huge & cruel as those in the sea, The Mar [...]ailes contained in the same. which may suffice to make it knowne that it is Nilus. Since he containeth such creatures and feedeth them abundantly, and hath place large enough to containe. Balbillus an excellent man, and one of the learnedest in this world, writeth, that at such time as he gouer­ned AEgypt, with the greatest mouth of Nilus, called Hereaclioteca, hee had this pastime to behold a great troope of Dolphines comming from the sea, A combate be­tweene the Dol­phins of the sea, and Crocodiles of Nilus. and another troope of Crocodiles comming out of Nilus, as if arranged in battell to encounter one another, and that the Crocodiles were ouercome by the Dol­phins, which are peaceable fish and bite not. The Crocodiles haue a maruel­lous hard and impenetrable backe, so that other creatures that are more great and dreadfull cannot hurt them, but their bellies are soft and tender. It was in this place that the Dolphins pierced them with the fins, and bristles they had on their backes [...] in such sort as they cut out their bowels, and made them sinke: many were dispatched in this sort, the rest as being put to flight, returned them­selues swiftly against the streame of Nilus. The properties of the Crocodiles. The Crocodile hath this propertie, that he flieth before these that run after him, and runneth after those that flie him. The Tontentes get the better of them, not for any priuiledge of genero­sitie they haue aboue the other Egyptians, but for their contempt and temeri­tie. For they willingly hunt the Crocodile, and cast a snare ouer them as they flie, by meanes whereof they draw them to them: but diuers of these Tonten­tes that haue not sufficient courage to pursue the Crocodile, resolutely are de­uoured by them. Theophrastas saith, that the water of Nilus was somewhat salt. For the space of two yeares vnder the raigne of Cleopatra, that is to say, in the tenth and the eleuenth yeare Nilus slowed not, which [...]ignified according to the report of the Diuines, the change of the State vnder the gouernment of two, vvhich vvere Anthonie and Cleopatra, vnder vvhom the Kingdome vvas reduced into the forme of a Prouince. Calimachus is the Author that in times past the Nile vvas nine yeares vvithout vvatering Egypt. But now let vs consider the causes of the encrease of Nilus in Summer, The causes of the encrease of Nilus in summ [...]r according to the opinion o [...] the Ancients, which is false. and let vs beginne with the most ancient. Anaxagorus saith, That the snowes that are moulten vpon the mountaines of AEthiopia, runne and discharge themselues in Nilus. All antiquitie followeth the same opinion. AEschilus, Sophocles and Eu­ripides haue taught no lesse. But that this is false it appeareth by many argu­ments. First of all, That AEthiopia is a countrey extreamely hot, it appeareth by the tawnie colour of the inhabitants, and by the testimonie of the Troglo­tides, who haue their houses vnder earth: the rockes and stones are as they were on fire, not only at mid-day, but also in the euening: the sand is so hot, that a man cannot walke vpon it, the siluer waxeth lead, the soder or ioyning of the images dissolues, there is no couerture of any enriched matter that can endure. The Southerly wind that cōmeth from that countrey is extreamely hot. Those beasts that hide themselues in the winter, liue continually abroad. In the time of least heat, the Serpents creepe abroad. In Alexandria likewise, farre distant from these excessiue heats, it snoweth not, neither falleth there any raine on the highest places. How can it then be, that a countrie that is exposed to so great [Page 837] heats of the Sunne, there should any snowes fall all the Winter time? Truely there should some other mountaines be couered therewith, and namely those of Thrace and Caucasus. But those Riuers that streame along from the moun­taines, swell about the spring time, and vpon the beginning of Summer, and af­terwards decrease in Winter. For in the Spring time the snowes are melted, and about the first dayes of the summer the Sunne dissipateth the rest. The Rhine, the Rhos [...]e, Danubius and Caystre, are small in winter, but great in summer: The Northerne mountaines are charged with very much snow. The Riuer Phasis that runneth in those quarters should encrease then, if towards the sum­mer time the swowes could make the Riuers swell. Furthermore, if such were the cause of the encrease of Nile, it should be very great in the beginning of sum­mer, because at that time, the snowes are at that time entire in great heapes. But Nilus floweth as proudly for foure monthes space, alwayes in the same estate, if thou wilt beleeue Thales, The opinion of Thales, as tou­ching th [...] incurse of Nilus. the Etesian windes resist Nilus in his discent, and bri­dle his courses, thrusting the sea against the entrances of his chanels, by meanes of which repulse he floweth backe againe and encreaseth not, but because he cannot haue further passage, he swelleth and ouerfloweth in euery place where he may make his way. Enthymenes of Marscillus accordeth hereunto, Euthymenes opinion. saying, I haue sailed in the Atlantique sea, thence floweth Nilus more greater, as long as the Etesians blow, for then the sea being pressed by these winds repulseth them against their streame. When such windes cease the sea waxeth calme, and Ni­lus that returneth backe hath lesse force. The examinati­on of these opini­ons. Then is the sea-water sweete, and the monsters in the same resemble those of Nilus. Why therefore? If the Etesians make Nilus to swell, why doth the encrease thereof begin, before these winds rise, and continue after they are laid? Whence likewise commeth it to passe, that it is not more great at such time as they blow more rudely. For he neither riseth nor falleth, whether they blow more or lesse, which would come to passe if he encreased by their forces. Furthermore, the Etesian windes beat vpon the shoares of Egypt, and Nilus streameth against them, contrariwise he would issue from the places whence they came, if he tooke his originall from them. Besides, he would flow from the sea pure and blew, not troubled and dirtie, as he doth at that present. Besides infinite testimonies speake wholly to the contrarie of this opinion. Then was there place for falsehood to preuaile, when the coasts were vnknowne. It was lawfull for them that spake to publish their fables. But at this day all the coast of the sea is frequented by their ships who traffique [...] none of which say, that the water of Nilus is blew, or that the sea hath any o­ther taste then it hath vsually, which likewise Nature forbiddeth to be belee­ued. For the Sunne draweth that which is most light, and sweet. Besides, why encreaseth it not in winter? Since at that time the windes being more violent then they were accustomed might moue the sea? For the Etesians are mode­rate. Furthermore, if he were deriued from the Atlantique sea, hee would at one time fill all Egypt. But he encreaseth by degrees. The Philosopher Oeno­pides of Chios saith, that in winter the heate is hidden vnder earth, by meanes whereof the dens are hot, and the fountaine water is warme, by meanes where­of the vaines of the earth are dried by internall heate. But in other countries the flouds encrease by the meanes of raine. An answere to Oenopides o­pinion. But the Nile, because he is not as­sisted by any other raine he waxeth the lesse, and then encreaseth in summer, at such time as the inward parts of the earth are cold, and the fountaines are fresh and coole. But if this were true, the riuers should encrease, and all the foun­taines should be full in summer. I say likewise that in summer time the heate is [Page 838] not greater vnder earth. The water, the lower caues, and the fountaines are warme, because they receiue not the aire that is cold without, so then they haue no heate, but they driue out cold. From the same cause proceedeth this, that they are fresh in summer, because the aire being remote and seuered from the same, The examinati­on of Diogenes Apolloniates his opinion. and afterwards warmed, attaineth not so farre. Diogenes Apollinaris is of that opinion, that the Sunne draweth humiditie vnto him, which is sucked vp from the sea, and other waters by the drie land, that it cannot be that one earth should be drie, and another moist, because all is perforated and full of pas­sages. Those things that are drier doe sometimes borrow from the moister, and if the earth receiued not from other parts, long since had it fallen to dust. So then the Sunne draweth the waues, but the meridianall regions are those that haue most need: when the earth is dried, she draweth more humiditie vnto her. E­uen as in lamps, the oyle runneth thither where it consumeth, so the water run­neth into that part, where the vehemencie of heat and of the parched earth cal­leth it. Whence then is she drawne? From those parts that are alwayes cold, that is, from the Northerne parts whence she floweth. For this cause the Pon­tique sea powreth her streame continually into that which is the lower, not by ebbes and flouds after the manner of other seas, but tending and running al­wayes violently towards that part. If this were not, if that which euery one wanteth were not supplied, and that which were excessiue were not sent backe againe by the same wayes, the earth should peece-meale be brought to dust, or drowned in the water. I would willingly demand of Diogenes, An instance that wrappeth Diogenes in new absurdities. since that this sea and the riuers ioyne themselues together: Whence it commeth to passe, that the riuers in all countries are not more big in summer time: The Sunne scorch­eth Egypt more then all other regions, and therefore Nilus encreaseth the more: But in other countries likewise there is some encrease of riuers? Further­more, how commeth it to passe that some places are wholly drie, since that all the earth draweth vnto her the humiditie of other countries, and so the more the drie earth shall be exposed to the Sunne. Finally, whence commeth it that Nilus is sweete, if his water floweth from the sea? For there is no riuer more sweet in taste then Nilus is.

CHAP. III.

How the haile is made. IF I should maintaine that haile is made as yce is, the whole cloud being frozen, I should vndertake a thing that were ouer-headie. Therfore number me amongst those witnesses of the second note, who deny that they haue seene, but auow that they haue heard it. Or at leastwise I will doe that which the Historians doe. For they when they haue fained many things according to their owne fancie, will not maintaine a­ny one thing of consequence [...] but adde these words, I refer my selfe to the credit of the Authors. Possidonius wil answere for me, Possidonius o [...]inion. as wel in that which I haue alrea­die entreated of, as in that which followeth. For he will affirme that the haile is made of a rainy cloud conuerted into water, as boldly as if he had beene pre­sent at the making. But why haile is round, thou thy selfe mayest know with­out a master, when as thou shalt obserue, that euery thing that droppeth gathe­reth it selfe into a round, which likewise appeareth in glasses, which gather a kind of dew from our breath, and in pots that are powred o [...]t, and in euery o­ther light thing, as in the leaues of herbes and trees, if any drop cleaue vnto them, they are alwayes round. [Page 839]

What is more hard then stone? more soft then water,
Yet hardest stones by softest drops are pierced.

Or as another Poet saith:

The drops that fall doe pierce the stone.

And this hollownesse is round also, whence it appeareth that the water hath some resemblance with the stone that it holloweth, for it maketh a hole in the same, that is answerable to her forme and habitude. Furthermore, although the haile were not such, yet in falling it might grow round, and tumbling so long thorow a thicke aire, take an equall forme on euery side, which the snow cannot do; The difference betweene snow and haile. because it is not so solide, but is rather spread abroad, and falleth not from any great height, but taketh his originall from the lower region of the aire, so that it commeth not from an aire farre distant, but falleth from a place neere at hand. Why may not I giue my selfe as much libertie as Anaxagoras did, wher­as free libertie should be amongst no men more then amongst Philosophers? Haile is nought else but suspended yee. The snow is a sort of congelation hang­ing in the frost. There is such a difference betwixt frost and yce, and snow and yce, as betweene water and dew.

CHAP. IIII.

ANd hauing resolued this question, Why it snoweth, but haileth not in winter. I might dismisse and repose my selfe, but I will giue thee full measure, since I haue begun to be troublesome vnto thee, I will relate whatsoeuer it be, that may grow in question vpon this matter. The question is then why it snoweth in winter, and haileth not, and after that the cold hath beene broken by a milder weather, the haile falleth? Although thou thinkest that I am deceiued, yet account I it for true, which I apprehend in my minde, which permitteth it selfe to beleeue these trifling tales, wherein men are accu­stomed to nip our tongues, and not to pull out our eyes. In winter the aire free­seth, by meanes whereof it resolueth not himselfe into water, but into snow, to which the aire is more neerer. In the beginning of the Spring there followeth a great change of weather, and the aire being become more warme, there suc­ceed more greater raine. Vpon which occasion our Poet Virgil saith,

When as showre-bearing spring,

Discouereth it selfe, the change of the ayre being opened, and resolued euery wayes by the assistance of the season, is farre more vehement. For this cause the raynes fall more waightie and thicke, but they continue not. The Winter hath lent, and thick showers, which we see oftentimes happen when the snow falleth amidst a rare and thin raine. We say that it is a snowie day when it is colde and the heauen is couered: contrariwise, when the Northeast winde bloweth and gouerneth in the ayre, the raines are more small; but when the Southern winde rayneth the raine is more strong, and the drops greater.

CHAP. V.

The [...]pinion of the Po [...]t vpon this point. THat which is resolued by our Stoiques, neyther dare I speake because it is but weakely grounded, neyther must I let it passe. For what euill is it to write any thing that is presented vnto vs? For if we will exactly examine, and make a diligent scrutiny of all things, it were better to be silent, since there is scarcely any thing that is maintayned by the one, that is not impugned by the other. For there are very few things without contradiction. They say therefore that all that which is frozen about Scithia and Pontus, and to the Northward, dissol­ueth in the spring time: that at that time the Riuers thaw, and that the snowes wherewith the mountaines are couered, melt; by meanes wherof it is very like, that the colder windes engender such a change, and intermixe themselues with the ayre of the spring time. They further adde that which I haue not yet try­ed, nor haue the will to do the same; and I counsaile thee that if thou wilt know the truth thereof, not to make triall in this sort if the snow be colde. Mark what they say, that they that treade vpon the firme and hard snow haue not so much colde in their feet, as those that treade vpon the snow that is newly falne. If they speake true, all that which commeth from the Northerly places (wh [...]n as the snow is distributed, and the yce is broken) tieth and constraineth the warm and moyst ayre of the Southerne parts: and therefore when it should raine the vehemencie of the colde will make it fall into haile.

CHAP. VI.

O [...] those that for [...]tell wh [...] it shall haite. I Cannot temper my selfe, but that I must needes discouer all the follies of our Stoickes, who affirme that there are some men so well experienced in the obseruations of clouds, that they can fore­tell when it shall haile, hauing the meanes to comprehend the same, by long vse, by obseruing the colour of the clouds, after which haile hath followed so many times. It is an incredible matter that in the Citie of Cleone there were certaine men chosen to this end vpon the common purse, which were named [...], that is to say, obseruers of the haile. When these had giuen the signe that haile would suddenly follow, what ex­pectest thou, that men should run to th [...]ir clokes, or their letherne peltches? Nay rather, euery one sacrificed for himselfe a Lambe or a Pullet; and forth­with those clouds declined another way, after he had tasted some little of the bloud: Dost thou laugh at this? Beholde cause of more laughter; if ther [...] were any that had neyther Lambe nor Pullet, he drew his owne bloud, wherein hee neyther hurt himselfe nor any other man. And to the end that thou shouldest not thinke that the clouds are cru [...]ll and desirous of bloude, one of them with a sharpe p [...]n-knife pricked one of his fingers, and offered his bloud: at that the haile fled away from his field that had sacrificed thus, as from those pastures whose Master had the meanes by more greater offerings to preuent the emi­nent euill.

CHAP. VII.

SOme seeke a reason hereof. Whether th [...]re be any reaso [...] in this pr [...]dicti [...]. Othersome that are more wise say, that it is impossible to couenant with the haile, and to redeeme the tempests by their diminutiue presents, although th [...] gods are pa­cified by such meanes. Some there are, that holde [...]hat they of Cleones thought, that there was some secret vertue in bloud, to turne away and repulse the cloude. But how may so great power be inclosed in so little bloud as to mount so high, and to cause a resentment in the clouds. The shortest way, was to say that all that was no other thing but a fable, & a lie: yet they of Cleones punished those that had not the care to foresee and prouide against tempests, because by their negligence their Vineyards were beaten, or their cornelayed. And amongst vs, in the law of the twelue tables it was for [...]bidden, that no man should enchant another mans fruite. The auncient Id [...]ots and those of little iudgement, beleeued that the inchanters caused the raines ei­ther to faile or fall; but it is a thing most euident, that they cannot doe it, yea, and so manifest, that the cause hereof is not to be examined in any Philoso­phers Schoole.

CHAP. VIII.

YEt one thing will I adde more, and it will content thee to fauour and applaude it. In what region of the ayre the snow is made. They say that snow is made in that Region of the ayre that is neerest vnto the earth, and that hath most heat, for three causes: the first is, that euery exhalation of the earth, wheras it hath much heate and drie within, it is so much the more hotter the neerer it is: the second, that the beams of the Sun reflect vpon the [...]arth, and reuerberate backe to themselues; the which redoubling warms all that which is neere [...]t to the earth, the which hath more warmth, because they feele the Sun twice: the third cause is, that the higher parts are more beaten by the windes, but whatsoeuer are lowest are lesse beaten by the windes.

CHAP. IX.

TO these may a man adde the reason of Democritus: Democritus reason annexed to the preceden [...]. the more solid a body is, the more suddenly receiueth it heate, and keepeth it the longer. Therefore if you set a vessell of brasse, or glasse, or silu [...], in the Sunne, that of brasse is warmed soonest, and keepeth the heate longest. He expresseth the reason in this sort: It must needs be that the pores and passages of those bodies that are closed, solid and thicke should be more lesse then the rest, and that the ayre that entereth should be farre more subtile. It followeth then, that as the Sto [...]es that are lesse spati­ous, and the smallest. Ouens are soone [...]t hot; so the pores and pa [...]sages that are hidden, and cannot be obserued by the eye, doe more speedily entertaine the heate, and because they are so narrow, deliuer ouer this heate more slowly then they haue receiued it.

CHAP. X.

The l [...]west Regi­on of the ayre is more darkesome and l [...]sse pure. THese long Prefaces bring vs to the point that is now in question [...] All aire is more thick, according as it is more neere vnto the earth [...] As in the water, and in all humiditie, the lees are found in the bot­tome; so in the ayre, those things that are most thicke are alwaies lowest. But we haue alreadie proued that all things, the more their matter is thicke and solid, the more long time and more effectually keepe they the heate they haue receiued: but the more the ayre is raised and estrang­ed from the ordures of the earth, the more pure and neate it is; by meanes whereof it retaineth not the Sunne, but letteth it passe as thorow a voyd place, and therefore is it that it warmeth lesse.

CHAP. XI.

Why the tops of the highest moun­taines haue lesse sense of the heat of the Sun then the vallies. COntrariwise, some say that the tops of the mountaines, being neere vnto the Sunne, should be also more ho [...]. But in my opi­nion they deceiue themselues in this, that they thinke that the Apenine, the Alpes, and other renowned mountaines, by reason of their height haue their heads so high, that their tops may feele the neighbourhood of the Sunne: vndoubtedly these mountaines are high, if a man compare them with vs that are men; but when thou shalt consider the whole Vniuerse, euery one may perceiue that both mountaines and men ar [...] things very base. The one compared with the other haue the vpper hand, and together they are nothing. Neyther is ther [...] any thing, how high soeuer it be raised, that in comparison with the whole should be esteemed any thing; & if it were otherwise, we would not say, that all this circuit of the earth is but a bowl. The properties of a bowle is to be round in all equalit [...]e. Consider this equali­tie in a ball; the s [...]itches, the corners and little holes that appeare therein, hinder not a man from s [...]ying that all the parts are round. But as these spaces hinder not this ball to haue a round figure, so in all the globe of the earth in the high­est mountaines (whose tops are nothing if they be compared with the whole round) the same ought to be considered. He that saith that the highest moun­taine, because it is neerest to the Sunne, should be more warmed, may say also that a great man should haue more heate then a little man, and that heate ought to be rather in the head then in the feete. But whosoeuer hath considered the world according to his measure, and r [...]membreth him s [...]lfe that the earth is the center or point of this great circumference, shall know that nothing may be so [...]gh in the same, that by that mean [...]s it may hau [...] more sense of the [...]ffect of the Sunne, and of those other celestiall fir [...]s, as if he were more neerer vnto them. These mountaines that we behold, and these high Tenari [...]es that are couered with perpetuall snowe [...] are notwithstanding in the bottom. True it is, that a mount which is raised high is neerer the Sunne then a valley, but in such sort is it, as one thing is greater then another: for after this maner one [...] is said to be neerer heauen then another; which is false, because betweene those things that are little there cannot be any great difference, but whilst they are compared one with another. When wee come to the comparison of a mighty body, it skils not how much the one is greater then the other, becaus [...] although it be with a great difference, yet are they called small.

CHAP. XII.

BVt to returne, Why the s [...]w is soft. by reason of the reason [...] aboue mentioned, diuers haue bin o [...] the opinion, that snow is made in the low [...]st region of the ayre, by meanes whereof it is sof [...], because it i [...] gathered of a cold that is lesse rigorous then that of other regions. The neigh­bouring ayre hath too much colde to conuert it selfe into water and rain, and ouer little to be hardn [...]d into haile. Of thi [...] moderate cold, and not too much intended are the snowes mad [...] by the meanes of thicke waters.

CHAP. XIII.

WHy, Of the res [...]lution of this question: [...]e en [...]ereth into censure against the Epicures of this world, who abuse snow. saiest thou, dost thou prosecute so earnestly these follies, wher­by thou shalt neyther become more l [...]arned, nor more b [...]tter? Thou tellest me how snowes are made, where it concerneth thee far more to let vs vnderstand why snowes are not to be bought. Thou willest me to pleade against dissolution: this is a daily and a fruitlesse brawle; yet let vs chide at it: although she be like to get the vpper hand, yet let her ouercome vs fighting and striuing against her. What then? Thinkest thou that this inspection of nature auaileth nothing to that which thou intendest? When we aske how snow is made, and say that by nature it is like vnto frost, that it containeth in it selfe more ayr [...] then water; thinkest thou not that they are reproached hereby, because they buy not true water, but a far more baser thing? But let vs rather inquire how snowes are made, then how they are kept, because not contenting our selues to poure out our olde wine [...], and to dispose them according to their sauours and age, we haue found out the inuention how to keepe snow, and to the end it might ouercome Summer, and defence it selfe against the heat of the yeare, by the coldnesse of the place, what haue we attained by this diligence? Forsooth this, to buy water that costeth vs nothing. It grieueth vs that we cannot buy the winde and the Sunne; or for that the ayre commeth so easily to present himselfe to a rich and more delicate sort, who could be contented to buy the same. O how impatiently endure wee that nature, the mother of all hath left nothing common to all. This which she would haue flow and lie open to all men; this which she hath made publike, to the end that all men might drinke therof to entertaine life, that which she hath largely and happily dispensed for all, to serue the common vse of men, of sauage beasts, of birds and all other liuing creatures, that are the most idle, that hath d [...]solution (ingenuous in her owne mischiefe) drawne vnto a price; so is noth [...] pleasing vnto her except it cost deere. This was the onely thing that equalled the rich with the common sort, in which onely they could not exceed the poo­rest. For him was this deuised (whose riches are troublesome to himselfe) to feed his dissolution euen in water. I will tell you whence it came to passe that no running water seemed cold enough for vs. As long as the stomacke is sound and capable of conuenient nourishment, and is filled but not ouerpressed, it is content with naturall supplies, it feeleth not the heate of the time, but his in­ward distemper; when as continuall drunkennesse encampeth in his bowels, and the noble parts are inflamed by a cholericke humour that seizeth the sto­macke, men seeke necessarily for somewhat that may temper that heate which [Page 844] waxeth more violently by those waters that are poured on it, and the remedy increaseth the sicknesse. And therefore not in Summer onely, but in the depth of winter they drinke water for this cause. What is the cause hereof but an e­uill [...] intrailes rotted and spoyled by excesse, to which no intermissi­on hath bin granted, to concoct & digest that which they had th [...]ust into them; but some haue heaped on their dinners those nightly banquets, which haue la­sted till the next day morning, gourmandize and drunkennesse plunging as it were into a gulfe, mens stomacks charged with abundance and diuersities of wines and meates. Besides this, intemperance that hath no intermission, hauing greedily deuoured all that which was presented vnto him, becomes mad, and inflameth it selfe alwayes in a new desire to follow his traine. Although therfore they garnish their chambers with Tapestrie and other ornaments, and with huge fires conquer the vehemency of the colde, yet notwithstanding their sto­mackes cloyed and weakened by their proper heate, seeketh some sollace to re­fresh themselues. For [...]uen as we cast colde water vpon their faces that faint and are in a [...]wound, to the end we may reuiue them, A pleasant and fit comparison, to shew the mi­series of the dis­solute. so the entrailes of these disso­lute men, wholly stupified with so much excesse, feele nothing, except you a­wake them with these extreame colde drinkes. Hence commeth it that they content not themselues with snow, but steepe their yce in store of fresh water, as if the thickenesse thereof gaue them some more certaine refreshing. And this yee is not taken from that which groweth aboue, but to the end it may haue more force, and a more vehement colde, they draw it and digge it out of the deeper places. Therefore is it, that these delicacies haue more prises then one, and there is traffique both of water and yce, according to the diuersities of the seasons of the yeare, to the great dishonour of the buyers and the sellers. The Lacedemonians banished Perfumers out of their Citie, and commanded them suddenly to depart out of their confines, because they wasted their oyle. What would they haue done if they had seene the shops and store-houses for snow, and so many horses appointed to carrie water, whose colour and sauour they alter by the meanes of the straw wherein they keepe it? But good gods, how easie a thing is it to extinguish wholsome thirst? But what can dull and dead jawes, stupified with burning meates, feele? Euen as nothing is colde enough for them, A liuely descrip­tion of belly­gods, and how great was Sene­caes admired hatred against all excesse. so nothing is hot enough: but they thrust downe the scalding mor­sels, speedily drowned in their sawce, halfe smoaking into their stomacks, to the end they may extinguish them with snowie potions. Thou shalt see certaine leane fellowes, armed against the colde vp to the chin, pale and ill disposed, that not onely swallow downe, but also eate snow, casting great morsels of the same into their cups, fearing least in forbearing their drinke a little, it should waxe warme. Thinkest thou that this is thirst? It is a feuor, yea, so malignant that it [...] neyther discouered in touching the pulse, nor by the colour that appeareth in the face. But intemperance an inuincible euill, of soft and fluid becomming hard and stupid burneth the heart it selfe. Knowest thou not that all things loose their force by custome? Therefore this snow, in which at this day you that are delicate, are as it were plunged, by vse and continuall seruitude of the stomacke hath gotten this priuiledge, that it obtaineth the place of water. Seek out now some other thing that is more colde, for an ordinary and accustomed freshnesse and coolenesse is as much to you as nothing.

The end of the fourth Booke of Naturall Questions.

OF NATVRALL QVESTIONS, WRITTEN BY LVCIVS ANNAEVS SENECA, DEDICATED TO LVCILLIVS The Fifth Booke. Wherein Is intreated of the matter and motion of the windes and aire.

CHAP. I.

THe Winde is fluent aire. Hippocrat. lib. de Flatib. Read Valeriola vpon this, and Aristo­tles opinion in 2. Meteorolog. wherein he high­ly taxeth the de­finition: bu [...] Seneca in this place first defi­neth what [...]inde i [...]. Some haue defined it thus: The winde is an aire which is fluent in one part. This definition seemeth to be more exact, because the aire is neuer so immoueable, but that in some sort it is agitated. So say we that the Sea is calme, when it is but gently moued, and incli­neth not ouer-much to one part. When there­fore thou readest,

When as the Sea was calme vnbet by windes [...]

Know that it is neuer so still but that it hath some slight replying, and is said to be calme, because it forceth not a streame neither this way, nor that way. The same may a man iudge of the aire, that it is neuer immoueable although it be quiet and calme. Which thou maiest conceiue by this: When the sunne is infused into any closed place, we see certaine little bo­dies carried now a thwart, some vpward, some downeward, and diuersly en­countring together. He shall therefore scarce diligently enough comprehend that he would, that saith: The floud is the agitation of the Sea, because when it is calmest it is stirred likewise. But beyond exception shall he be that shall de­fine it thus. The floud is the agitation of the Sea into one part. So in this thing also, wherof we most of all now debate, he shall not be excepted against, that carrieth himselfe so as hee saith: The winde is a fluent aire into one part, [Page 846] or the winde is fluent aire with violence; or the force of the aire that fleeteth in­to one part, or a course of the aire a litle more vehement then ordinarie. I know what may bee answered for that other definition, what needest thou to adde this, aire flowing into one part? For whatsoeuer fl [...]teth, into some part. No man will say that the water floweth, if it be only moued in it selfe, but if it tendeth toward some part. There may be therefore somwhat that may moue and not flow, but contrariwise it cannot flow except i [...] be into one part. But if this breuiti [...] b [...] sufficient to defend vs from r [...]proo [...]e, let vs vse this. But if any man be more circumspect, let him not spare his word, by whose adiection hee may exclude all cauill. Let vs now come to the matter it selfe, because we haue sufficiently disputed of the forme.

CHAP. II.

DEMOCRITVS saith, that when there are many of these small bodies, Whereof winde is composed. which he calleth Atomi, in some voide streight, there fol­loweth winde: contrariwise that the estate of the aire is calme and peaceable, when in much voide there are few Atomes. For e­uen as in the market place or street, as long as there is but little companie, a man may walke without tumult: but when as companie meeteth in a straight, there groweth quarrell, because they throng and iustle one ano­ther: so in this space wherein we are inuironed, when many bodies haue filled a small place, it must needes bee that in incountring one with another: the one should be pushed by the other, which push them back againe, and that they should be confused together, and compresse one another. From thence com­meth winde, when as those two bodies that were at debate are fallen downe, and after they haue long time floted and remayned in suspence, incline them­selues. But where there are few bodies in a great exstent, neither can they iustle one another, nor be impelled the one by the other.

CHAP. III.

Refutation of Democritus argument in the former Chapter. HOw false this opinion is, thou maist gather hereby, because that when the skie is cloudie and the aire is thick, there is no winde stirring. But at that time diuers bodies are assembled together, whence proceedeth also the thicknesse of the clouds. Adde here­vnto that about Riuers and Lakes fogs fall very oftentimes, bo­dies being pressed and conioyned together, and yet there is no winde. And sometimes so great a mist is spred abroad, that scarce one man can see another, though they stand neare together, which should not come to passe except ma­ny bodies had enclosed themselues in a little space. But no time wanteth winde more then that which is foggie. Adde hereunto now that which falleth out on the contrarie side, that the rising sunne ordinarily attenuateth the thick and moist aire vpon his rise. And then doth the winde rise when as the bodies are set at libertie, and that their presse and multitude is resolued.

CHAP. IIII.

NOw therefore how saye [...]t thou, Winde is made in diuers sorts. are the windes made, since thou c [...]nfessest that they are made? not a [...]ter one manner: for some­times the earth pusheth out of her caues a great abundance of ayre, oftimes when a great and continuall [...]xhalation driueth vp on high, that which shee had depr [...]ss [...], this change of in­termixed [...] ayre is turned into wind [...] for this neither can I b [...] pe [...]waded to belieue, nor to conceale, which some men doe hold, that [...]s by the meane [...] of our meate, wind is caused in our bodies, which cannot burst [...]o [...]th, except it be by viole [...] [...] [...] or like wise sometimes by d [...]scharg [...] of the belly with some noice, or making [...]n escape which is not heard: [...] [...]his spaciou [...] na [...]ure that maintaineth all things, in changing nature produceth windes. It is good for vs that shee disgesteth alwayes, otherwise wee might feare some stinke or or more vncle [...]nnesse. Is there not therefore mo [...]e app [...]ance to [...]ay, that from all the parts of the earth, there necessarily arriue a g [...]at numbe [...] of these A­tomes, which heaped together, & afterwards attennated by the same, it hapneth that the winde is made, because that all that which enlargeth it selfe in a narrow place, requireth a greater space?

CHAP. V.

WHat then? thinkest thou that the [...]uaporations of the waters and earth are the onely cause of the wind? The ayre hath in it selfe a natu­rall faculty of motion. That the grauity of the aire is caused by these, & afterwards resolued by violence when these things that stood thicke, as i [...] is needefull by being extenuated, striue to get a greater space? For mine owne part I iudge it to be so. But that is the more truer and firmer cause, is that the ayre hath a naturall force of mouing her selfe, which shee hath of her selfe, as other thinges haue without hauing any need of conceiuing it from an other. Thinkest thou that the force of motion hath beene giuen vs, and that the ay [...] ha [...]h beene con­demned to remaine idle, and without agitation, considering tha [...] [...]he water ceaseth not to haue her motion, although the windes bee calme, for otherwise shee could not breed fishes. Wee see likewise that Mosse and other herbs grow in the waters, and float aboue them.

CHAP. VI.

THere is somewhat therefore vitall in the water. Speake I it onely of the water [...] It hath somthing vitall in it selfe. The fire that consumeth all things, createth like­wise somethings, and that which cannot seem [...] to b [...]e true [...] and yet is very true) there are certaine liuing creatures that are engendred in the fire. The ayre likewise hath some such like vertue, and therfore sometimes it thickneth, sometimes it spreadeth and pur­eth it selfe, sometimes it cloaseth, it openeth, and restraineth it selfe. There is herefore such difference betwixt the ayre and the wind, as there is betwixt a Lake and a Riuer. Sometimes the sunne it selfe is the cause of winde, some­times [Page 848] melting the colde ayre, and finding it thicke and closed in it selfe, puri­fieth and dilateth it.

CHAP. VII.

When and from whense the winds proceed. WE haue spoken of the windes in generall, now let vs beginne to entreat of them seuerally. It will happily appeare how they are made, if it shall appeare when and whence they proceede, First therefore let vs examine th [...]se windes that rise before day, which eyther are raysed from some riuers, or vallies, or gulfes. There is none of them continueth, but falleth when the sunne is mounted somewhat high, neyther is carried aboue the sight of the earth. This kind of windes beginneth in the Spring time, and passeth not the Summer. And from thence most of all commeth it, where there are many waters and mountaines. The Champions although they abound with waters, yet say I, that they want this breath which standeth in stead of wind.

CHAP. VIII.

HOw then is that winde bred which the Grecians call [...], what soeuer the riuers and marishes cast out of themselues, Whence strong windes are cau­sed. (the which is much and continuall) is in the day time the nutriment of the sunne, by night it is not spent, but being vnited in the mountains, is gathered into one region; when it hath filled the same, and being vnable to containe it selfe in it selfe, it breaketh forth, and goeth into an other part, and hence commeth the winde. It inclineth therefore towards that part, which inuiteth it with more free passage, and thorow the spaciousnes of the place, into which being gathered together it may runne. The proofe here­of is, that it riseth not before midnight: for this collection beginneth to bee made a little before day, and being as it were accomplished at such time as the light appeareth, it seeketh to discharge it selfe of the weight, and thether especially tendeth, where there is most ayre, and a great and spacious extent. The sunne likewise at his rise reflecting vpon the cold ayre, in some sort addeth forwardnesse to it: for euen before hee appeareth, hee preuaileth by his light, although his beames doe not dissipate the ayre, yet prouoketh hee it, and stir­reth by sending his light before: for when he himselfe appeareth, the one are raysed vp into the ayre, the other are dissipated by little and little, in such sort as they are not permitted to blow, except in the morning, their vigor va­nisherh vnder the force of the Sunne. And if they bee strong about the mor­ning, about midday they waxe weake, and these small windes neuer passe mid­day. There are some likewise that are very feeble, and more short, according as their causes are more or lesse powerfull.

CHAP. IX.

BVt why are these winds more violent in the spring-time, Whence it com­meth that such a wind is more violent in the Spring and Summer. and in the summer? for in the two other seasons they are very milde and scarsely fill the sayles of shippes; because the spring is moister, and a greater euaporation is made from diuers waters and places, that by reason of the moist nature of the heauens are full and o­uer charged. But why is it that these vapours are so great in the summer time? because such dayly heat continueth after the setting of the sunne, and conti­nueth for the greater part of the night, and draweth to it selfe that which is without, and attracteth with violence all that which the earth is accustomed to render of it selfe, but it hath not sufficient force to consume and dissipate that which it hath drawne: for this cause, the earth and water push out these little Atomes which are accustomed almost ordinarily to issue out, not onely by heate, but also by the reuerberation of his beames, the Sunne is the efficient cause of the winds: for the light that forgoeth the rising of the Sunne doth not as yet warme the ayre, but onely reflecteth vpon it, which being strucken vp­on, retireth it selfe on the one side; although I auerre not that this light is with­out heate, considering that it is made of heate. It may bee it hath not so much heate, that it may actually apppeare, yet notwithstanding it performeth his dew­ty by deducing and attenuating these things that are thicke. Besides those places, which by some iniquity of nature are so closed, that they cannot enter­taine the sunne, are notwithstanding lightned by a drie and heauie light, and are lesse colde by day then by night. By nature likewise euery heate drieth and disperseth away from it all cloudes. If the winde bloweth from the place whence the Sun depar­teth. It followeth therefore, that the sunne doth the like. For which cause some are of the opinion, that the winde bloweth from thence whence the sunne parteth. But that this is false, it appeareth hereby be­cause the wind driueth shippes into diuers climates, and such as trauell by sea with full sayle, sayle against the sunne rise, which should not come to passe, if the winde were alwayes carried by the sunne.

CHAP. X.

THe Etesian windes likewise (which are alleadged by some in way of proofe) serue them little for their purpose. Why the winds that are called Eteseans blow not but in sum­mer, and during the number of certaine dayes. I will first declare what their opinion is, and afterwardes why it disliketh mee. The Etesians (say they) blow not in the winter, because in the shorter dayes the sunne is sooner set before the colde bee ouercome, and therefore the snowes both fall and are hardned. In the summer time they be­ginne to blow, because the dayes are longer, and the beames of the Sunne di­rectly beate vpon vs. It is therefore like to be true, that the cloudes being sha­ken with great heat, push forth humidity, and that the earth (discouered and discharged of the snow) produceth the vapours more freely; whence issue more impressions in the ayre to the Northward, then otherwise, which are carried into places more sweet and temperate: so doe the Etesians inforce themselues, and therefore is it that they beginne in the Solstice, being vnable to endure the rising of the Dogge-starre, because that already the colder part of the heauen hath powred much of his humour into the same. But the Sunne [Page 850] hauing changed his course, draweth more directly towards vs, inuiting one part of the ayre, and repulsing the other. Thus the gale of these Etesians brea­keth the forces of Summer, and defendeth it from the violence of the hotest monethes.

CHAP. XI.

If the Etesians and other windes are stirred by the sunne. NOw will I performe that which I promised, why the Etesians helpe them no wayes, neyther yeelde any confirmation to this cause; we haue saide that about the spring of the day, there ari­seth a little wind, which is laid as soone as the Sunne meeteth with it. And therefore is it why the Mariners call the Etesians idle & delicate, because they know not how to rise earely as Gallion saith. They beginne the most times to blow when that little mornings breath beginneth to calme, which would not come to passe if the Sunne were the stirrer of them as he is of the lesser winds. Furthermore, if the length and greatnesse of the day were the cause that they blew, they should be heard before the Solstice at such time as the dayes are long, and the snowes are melted; for in the moneth of Iuly all the earth is discouered, or at leastwise there are very few things that lie vnder the snow.

CHAP. XII.

THere are some sorts of winds which the clouds that are broken, and fall, Of the winds called Ecnephy and h [...]w they are made. push before them; these windes do the Grecians call [...] which in my opinion are made after this maner. When as a great in [...]quality & diuersity o [...] bodies which are cast forth by terrestriall vapours, mount on high, and that the one of these bodies are drie, and the other moist. It is to bee belieued, that from so great a contrariety of bodies that incessantly striue one against an other at such time as they are assembled, there should certaine hollow cloudes bee composed. and that there is betweene them some distances, full of narrow holes, such as are in flutes: In these distances there is a subtill and thinne aire, that incloseth it selfe, which being tossed vp and down therein, and in the end warmed by a constrained and int [...]rrupted course, becommeth hereby more strong; and see­king for a place more large, breaketh all that which incloseth it, and issueth like a wind, which for the most part is stormy, because it commeth from aboue, and falleth vpon vs with a great violence, because it cannot spread it selfe euery wayes, but contrariwise trauelleth very much to finde an issue, enforcing his way before him, and as it were by a violent combate. Ordinarily this wind en­dureth not long, because it breaketh the recep [...]acles of those cloudes wherein it was carried: sometime it issueth with a great noyse, but not without thun­der and lightning. Such winds are of more vehemency and longer continu­ance, if they carry with them other violent winds intermixed with them, and such as issue from the same way, and striue to vnite themselues with them: euen as torrents flow in a measurable greatnesse, as long as euery one ha [...]h his par­ticular course, but when as diuers of them meet together in one, they surpasse in depth, breadth and swiftnesse the greatest riuers that flow incessantly. The [Page 851] same way in all likelyhood fall out in stormes, which of themselues conti­nue not long time, but when they h [...]ue [...]ssembled their force [...], and when as from diuers parts of the heauen, t [...]e ayre being pressed, assembleth it selfe in one place, they both gather more forces, and continue longer.

CHAP. XIII.

SO then a resolued cloud maketh the wind which is dissolued in diuers sorts. The maner how the winds break from the cloudes that inclose thē. Sometimes the ayre which is inclosed, searching to finde a vent, strugleth in such sort that it breaketh all that col­lection of cloudes that detaineth it, sometimes the heat that hath beene occasioned by the sunne, sometimes the intershocke of cloudes, as it hapneth when two great bodies encounter and crush one ano­ther. In this place it may be demanded (if thou thinkest it fit) whence that storme is raysed? which is accustomed to happen in riuers, which fleeting onward without interruption seeme peaceable and milde, and make no noyse: but when they encounter with any rocke on this or that side of the riuer, they re­c [...]yle and turne their waters into round circles which cannot bee diuided; so that in whirling about they sucke vp themselues, and make a gulfe: so the winde as long as nothing resisteth it, extendeth his forces: but when it is beaten backe by any promontory, or if by constraint of the places it bee gathered into some str [...]ight and crooked pypes, it oftimes turneth and returneth itselfe into it selfe, and maketh a gulfe like vnto those waters, which as I said, are conuerted and whirled about. This wind turning it selfe, and enuironing one and the same place, and mouing it selfe violently in diuers circles and rounds, is a whirlewind, which if it grow more strong and furious is inkindled, and maketh that flying fire, which the Grecians call [...]. This is a fierie storme. These windes for the most part being broken from the cloudes discouer all dangers, whereby whole herdes of beasts are carried away in the fields, and whole shippes are tossed and drowned in the floudes. Some winds also engender diuers others, and pu­shing the ayre into some other places, then those whereupon they were for­merly cast, spread themselues here and there. I will tell you likewise that which is come into my memory; euen as the droppes of rayne in the beginning make not the earth slippery, but when they are gathered together, and reinforced, then is it said that they flow and fall: in like case, as long as th [...] motions of the ayre are light and agitated in diuers places, it is not winde as yet it beginneth to be when hee hath mingled all his motions together, and hath made a mighty body. It is the measure that putteth a difference betwixt the aire and the wind, for the wind is a more vehement breath, and the spirit likewise a lightly flowing ayre.

CHAP. XIIII.

I Will repeate now that which I said at the first, That there are windes likewise which breake from the caues and hollow places of [...]he earth. that the winds issue from caues and hollow places of the earth. The earth is not made and fashioned of one whole massiue peece from the top vnto the bottome, but is hollow in diuers places:

Suspended on obscure and hollow caues.

[Page 852] Some where she hath voides without any humour. There likewise if no light show the difference of the aire, yet will I say that the clouds and mists cons [...]st in obscuritie. For neither are these aboue the earth, because they seeme so to be, but because they are, they are seene. There notwithstanding also are they for this cause, because they are not seene. Thou mayest know likewise that there, there doe flow certaine riuers, no lesse great then those that we see, the one stea­ling along sweetly, the other violently and with roaring noise, by reason that they fall downe headlong from craggie and stonie places. What then wilt thou not confesse also, that there are lakes vnder the earth, and that there are certaine pooles, whose waters standeth continually without issue? Which if it be so, it followeth also that the aire is burthened, and by his burthen bended, and rai­seth the wind by his vrging forward. We shall know well then that these winds shall be produced, in obscure places, out of these clouds vnder earth, when they haue gathered so much forces that either may suffice to breake thorow the re­sistance of the earth, or occupie some open passage for these windes, and that by these caues they may be conueyed amongst vs. But this is most manifest, that vnder [...]arth there is a great quantitie of sulphure and other minerals, that serue to enkindle fire. The aire searching issue by these caues, after it is very much agitated, must of necessity in this great presse, expresse and cause the fire to iss [...]. Afterwards the flames being spred more at large, if there remained any aire that was still, the subtiltie thereof gaue it motion, and there with great noise and cracking sound, it seeketh passage. But I will entreate hereof more exactly when I shall speake of, and debate of the trembling of the earth.

CHAP. XV.

A digression wherein he en­treateth of ri­uers and pooles vnder ground. PErmit me now to tell thee a pleasant tale. Asclepiodotus reciteth, that in times past Philip caused certaine work-men to be let down in desert mines, to see if there were any thing to bee gotten, in what estate all things were, and if the auarice of our predecessors had left any thing for those that were to succeed. These men de­scended with many lights, and remained there for many daies, and finally being wearied with walking, they saw great riuers, and pooles of a maruellous length like vnto ours, but not inclosed and restrained with any earth to bound them in, but spred and extended abroad, which made them afraid: I tooke great con­tent to reade this; for I vnderstand that our age is sicke, not onely of new vices [...] but also of those which the Ancients haue taught, and that it is not of late time that auarice hath digged into the vaines of earth, and rocks, seeking in the dark­nesse the ruine of mankind. An inuecti [...]e a­gainst auarice. And as touching our Ancestors, whom we praise so much, they likewise (whose vertues we complaine that we cannot equall) being led by hope, haue opened and digged downe mountains, and haue found them­selues buried vnder the ruines, and vnder the gaine th [...]y had made. There haue beene Kings long time before Philip of Macedon, that haue searched out the ve­rie bowels of the earth to finde out siluer, and forsaking the free ayre, haue slid downe into those caues, where there was no difference betwixt day and night, leauing the clearenesse of the day behind them. What great hope could this be? What necessitie hath bowed a man towards the earth, who was made vpright to behold the heauens, that he hath digged, and drowned himselfe in the heart of the earth, to draw out gold, which is as dangerous in the searching, as in the [Page 853] keeping! For this hath he vndermined the earth, and vnder hope of an vncer­taine prey couered in dirt, (forgetfull of his time, and forgetfull of his better nature) hath he sequestred himselfe. There is no dead man to whom the earth is so waightie, as to those vpon whom auarice hath cast so waightie a load of earth; from whom she hath taken the light of heauen, and whom she hath bu­ried in those bottomlesse pits, wherein this poyson was hidden: Into those pla­ces durst they descend, where they haue found a new disposition of things, the earth suspended, the windes blowing in an obscure void, the dre [...]dfull sources of waters that streamed along, a profound and perpetuall night, yet for all this they feare hell.

CHAP. XVI.

BVt to returne to that which is now in question. Of the four [...] principall winds, and whence they come. There are foure windes, diuided into East, West, South, and North. All the rest which we call by diuers names are numbered vnder these:

EVRVS retired towards the mornings rise,
And to the Nabathean Kingdomes flies,
Breathing on Persia, and those mountaines hye,
That are expos'd to PHOEBVS rising eye.
Milde ZEPHIRVS the euening hath possest,
And bea [...]es vpon the warmer shores of West,
But horrid BOREAS doth the North inuade
And bends his stormes against the Scythian glade:
Where contrarie, the Southerne winde againe
The Noonested tract doth moist with clouds and raine.

Or if thou haddest rather comprehend them in shorter words, let them be as­sembled in one tempest (which can no wayes be.)

EVRVS and NOTHVS tempest both together,
And stormie Afrike hasts (to helpe them) thither.

And the North-winde which had no place in that conflict. Some imagine that there are twelue windes. Of twelue winds, according to some For they diuide the foure parts of the heauen [...] into three, and giue two adiuncts to euery one of the foure principall windes. Accor­ding to this manner, Varro, a very diligent man, hath ordered them; and not without cause: For the Sunne neither riseth nor setteth alwayes in one place, but one is the rising and setting Equinoctiall, (for there are two Equinoctials) other the Solstitiall and hibernall. We call that Subsolanus, Their name [...]. that riseth from the Orientall Equinoctiall: the Grecians call it [...]. Eurus issueth from the Orient of winter, which wee haue called Vulturnus. And Liuy so termeth it in that vnfortunate battell of the Romans, wherein Hanibal set the rising Sunne and winde in the eyes of his enemies, and by the assistance both of Sunne and winde, got the victorie. Varro surnameth it also Eurus after this mann [...]r. At this day the Latines vse indifferently both the one and the other. The winde that bloweth from the Orientall Solstice, is called Caecias, or [...] by the Greeks and the Latines haue no other name. The West Equinoctiall sendeth Fauonius, [Page 854] which they that vnd [...]rstand not the Greeke will tell thee is Zephirus. From the Occid [...]ntall Solstice proceedeth C [...]rus, or according to others, Argestes, which I thinke not, because that Cor [...]s bloweth violently, and maketh a storme in some par [...]; Argestes is ordinarily slacke, equall, and common as well to those that go, [...]s those that returne. Africus that is both stormie and tempestuous, depar­teth from the Occident of wint [...]r, and by the Grecians is called [...]. To the Northward, the highest is Aquilon, that in the middest Septentrion, and Thra­cias is the lower, which hath no other name amongst the Latines. From the Me­ridionall axis ariseth Euronotus, then Notus, in Latine Auster; after these Liba­notus, which amongst vs is without a name.

CHAP. XVII.

Th [...] there can be but twelue principall winds. I Agree that there are twelue windes, not because there arise many in [...]uery country (for the inclination of the earth exclude [...]h some) but b [...]cause there are no more in any place. So say we that there are six cases, yet meane we not, that euery nowne hath six cases, but becau [...]e [...]here is no nown that can haue more then six. They that haue proposed twelue windes, haue followed this reason [...] that [...]here are as many winds as th [...]re are parts of the heauen, which is diuided into fiue circles, which passe thorow the Cardines of the world, that is to say, the Northerne, Solstitiall, Equinocti­all, Hibernal, and Meridional, to which is annexed a sixt, distinguishing, as thou knowest, the superiour part of the world, from the inferiour. For there is al­wayes a halfe aboue, and another beneath. The Greekes haue called this line which is partly couered, and partly discouered, Horizon, we Finitor or Finiens. To this must wee adde the Meridian circle, which diuideth the Horizon by straight angles. Some of these circles goe sloapewise, and trauerse the others. But it is necessarie that there should be as great differences in the aire, as there is in the parts. So then the Horizon diuideth the fiue aboue-named circles, wher­of it maketh ten parts, fiue to the Eastward, and fiue to the Westward. The Meridian circle, which encountereth with the Horizon, addeth two parts. If the aire haue twelue differences, so many windes maketh it. There are some that are proper to certaine places, which go not from one place to another, but bend themselues towards that which is next, without blowing from one end of the world to another. Atabulus molesteth Apulia; Iapix, Calabria; Sciron, Athens; Cataegis, Pamphilia; Circius, France; whose inhabitants cease not to giue him thankes, although he breaketh their buildings, as if they were bound vnto him for the bountie of their aire. At such time as the Emperour Augustus soiorned in France, he vowed and builded a Temple to this winde. It were an infinite matter if I should entreate of all other windes in particular, since for the most part, there is not any region that hath not some winde, that both breedeth and ceaseth in it, or about it.

CHAP. XVIII.

AMongst other workes of diuine prouidence therefore, a man may likewise wonder at this, Why the windes haue been crea­ted and lodged in the aire. as a matter worthie of admiration. For it hath not out of one cause, both found out, and disposed the windes diuersly: but first of all, to the end it might not suffer the aire to stand still, but by continual agitation make it profitable and vitall to those that should vse it. Againe, that they might minister raines vnto the earth, and bridle excessiue stormes. For sometimes they bring on clouds, sometimes seuer them, to the end that the raine may be distributed thorow all the world: Auster driueth it into Italy, Aquilo casteth it into Africa, the Etesi­ans suffer not the clouds to stay with vs. The same windes in the same season, when we haue drought, water India and AEthiopia with continuall raines. But why? could a man store vp his corne, were it not that the winde assisted him to driue the chaffe from that which was to be reserued? Except there were some­what that caused it to encrease, and that breaking the eare and spike that hol­deth the graine hidden and couered (which the laborers call the husks) should open the same? Is it not a great good, that she hath giu [...]n vs the meanes to be a­ble to traffique and to merchandize with forren Nations? How men haue abused this bles­sing o [...] God be­stowed vpon vs by the winde. This is a great bene­fit of Nature, exc [...]pt the furie of men conuerted it to their iniurie. Now that which in times past was spoken by the greater part of people by Caesar, that a man could scarcely say whether it were more expedient for the Common-weale, if this man had liued, or had neuer beene, may be at this day said of the windes. So much the necessity of them, and the profit that they bring counter­priseth the euils, that the furie of mankind hath inuented to his owne ruine by this meanes. For such goods cease, not to be good of their own nature, although they are become hurtfull through their wickednesse that abuse the same. The eternall prouidence of God, who is the gouernour of this world, hath not giuen this charge vnto the windes to agitate the aire, neither hath he lodged them in all parts to cleanse the same, to the end we should couer a part of the sea with vessels charged with armed souldiers, or that we should seeke out enemies in or beyond the same. What madnesse is it that possesseth vs, and maketh vs to seeke out a meanes how to murther one another? We embarke our selues to fight and seeke out danger, wee hazard our selues to find out hazard. We ad­venture on vncertain fortune, we combat against the violence of a storme, which no humane power is able to surmount, and runne vnto death without hope of sepulture: yet should this be nothing, if we might attaine peace hereby. But now when we haue escaped so many hidden rockes, and the ambushes of a sea­full of shoales, impetuous billowes, and sands into which a head-long winde driueth those that saile: when we haue passed thorow dayes couered with skowling clouds, horrid night full of raine and thunder, and seene the vessels broken and battered by the winde. What shall be the fruit of this labour and feare? What hauen shall entertaine vs, being wearied with so many euils? It shall be warre, and the enemie that attendeth vs vpon our descent; the Nations we shall murther, a [...]d shall kill a part of the Conquerours armie, with burning of those Citi [...]s that were builded for perpetuitie. Why call wee the people to armes? Why le [...]ie we men of warre, entending to arrange our battels in the middest of the sea? Why disquiet we the seas? Is not the earth great enough for vs to die in? Fortune handleth vs too delicatly: She hath giuen vs too hard [Page 856] bodies, and to happie health. There is no accident that may hurt vs. Euerie one may measure his yeares, Inuectiues a­gainst the distur­b [...]rs o [...] humane peace. and pursue them vntill old age. Let vs then enter vpon the s [...]a, and prouoke the forts that forbeare vs. Wretched men what seeke you? Death; which euery where attendeth you, and alwayes is at hand? He will finde you euen in your beds, but let him finde you alwayes innocent; he will possesse you in your houses; but let him take hold of those that practise no euill. But what other thing is this, but meere rage, for a man incessantly to carrie his dangers about him, and to thrust himselfe amongst new and vn­knowne dangers, to enter into choller without any offence, and thereupon to treade all things vnder foote that a man meeteth withall, and after the manner of sauage beasts, to murther him that a man hateth not? yet beasts bite either for reuenge or hunger sake; but we that are prodigall both of our owne and o­ther mens bloud, trouble the seas, lanch our ships, commit our securitie to the waue [...], wish for faire windes, whose felicitie is to be carried speedily to warre. How [...]arre haue our euils rauished vs that are euill? Is it a little matter for vs to play the fooles in our owne countrey? So the foolish Persian King sailed ouer into Greece, The strange va­nities o [...] Xerxes and Alexan­der. which he conquered not, although he couered the conntrie with souldiers. So would Alexander enquire, when he was beyond the Bactrians and Indians, what was beyond that great sea, & would be angrie if he should leaue a­ny thing behind him. Thus Couetousnesse will deliuer Crassus into the Parthi­ans hands. He shall not feare the execrations of the Tribune that calleth him backe, nor the stormes of a long voyage, nor the lightnings which enuironing Euphrates, foretold him of his fall, nor the gods that made head against him; In spight of heauen and earth, he will runne and seeke out gold. It were there­fore some reason, to say that Nature had greatly fauoured vs, if she had forbid­den the windes to blow, to the end to bridle the forces of humane furie, by staying euery one in his owne countrie. For if there followed no other good, at leastwise no man could be borne, but to doe euill to himselfe, and his owne. But now it is a small matter to play the mad-man at home, In what so [...]t men abuse the wi [...]des. we must goe farre off, and torment others. There is no countrie so farre of vs, but it may send vs much miserie. Whether know I, whether any powerfull and vnknowne Prince, made proud with his owne greatnesse, shall sallie out of his owne countrie with ar­med hand? Or whether he riggeth some nauy, intending to cause some trouble? whence know I whether such or such a winde may bring armes against me? It were a great part of humane peace, if the seas were closed, yet can we not, as I said a little before, God is the a [...] ­thor o [...] good, t [...]ou [...] men em [...]loy his blessings to the contrarie. complaine against God our Creator, if we abuse his benefits, and make them contrarie vnto vs. He gaue the windes to keepe the tempera­ture both of heauen and earth, to call forth and suppresse the waters, to nourish seeds, and fruits of trees; which the agitation of the windes, together with o­ther assistance doe ripen, drawing nutriment to their vpper parts, and encreasing them, lest they should wither. He gaue the winds to know the furthermost parts of the earth. For man had beene an vnskilfull creature, and without great ex­perience of things, if hee had beene shut vp within the confines of his owne countrie. He gaue the windes, to the end that the commodities of euery coun­trie might be common, The wicked en [...]y nothing but to the [...]r owne con­fusion. not to the end they should carie legions and horsemen, nor transport men to pernicious warres. If we weigh the benefits of nature ac­cording to their deprauednesse that vse them, we haue receiued nothing but to our owne miserie. What profiteth it a man to see, to speake? Nay, whose life is not a torment? Thou shalt finde nothing of so manifest profit, which error cannot transferre to the contrarie. So Nature intended, that the windes should [Page 857] be good, but we haue made them euill. There is not one but pusheth vs to­wards some euill. Euery one setteth saile to diuers ends and intentions, but no man aymeth at the iust cause; A notable cen­sure of our va­nitie. for diuers euill concupiscences make vs embarke, therefore we set saile to some euill end. Plato speaketh well to the purpose, and he it is, that must be produced before vs, as a witnes in the end of our daies, that wee prise our liues basely for things of small value. But (my d [...]ere Lucillius) if thou estimate their furie well, that is to say, our owne (for wee are of the company) thou wilt laugh; yet more when thou shalt bethinke thy selfe, that life is gotten by those things, wher­in life is consu­med.

The End of the fifth Booke of the Naturall Questions.

OF NATVRALL QVESTIONS, WRITTEN BY LVCIVS ANNAEVS SENECA, DEDICATED TO LVCILLIVS The sixth Booke. Wherein He intreateth of the motion of the earth.

CHAP. I.

IT hath beene heard by vs (my Lucillius the best of men) that Pompeias a renowned Citie in Campania, The wonderfull earthquake that happened in Campania in Senecaes time. hauing on the one side the Surrentini­an and Sabiane shores, on the other side the Her­culan, and which the Sea begi [...]teth with a plea­sant gulfe, made as it were artificially, was shaken by an earthquake, not without the preiudice of those countries that bordered vpon the same: and that the same happened in Winter time, which as our auncestors assure vs, is exempt from such danger. This earthquake happened the fift day of February, when Regulus and Virginius were Consuls, which brought a marueylous ruine into Campania, which had beene neuer well assured from that danger: yet had it not before that time encountred with any such misfor­tune, and in great feares had beene oftentimes preserued; for a part of the Ci­tie of Hercule is falne to the ground, and that which as yet standeth, is not well assured. The e [...]ect of this earthquake. The Colonie of the Nucernis also, as it hath not suffered some generall destruction, so is it not without complaint. Naples likewise hath priuately lost much, but publiquely nothing, being lightly touched with a great euill. As touching some scattered Farmes, they haue beene almost all of them shaken, but not offended by this earthquake. They adde hereunto, that sixe hundreth flockes of sheepe were strooken dead, and that statues haue beene riuen in sun­der, and moreouer, that some persons lost their wits, and ranne about the streets [Page 860] like mad men. The processe of this enterprised worke, and the circumstance of the season require vs to examine the causes of these accidents. We ought to seeke out comfort for those that are dismayed, and extinguish mighty feare. For what security can a man promise himselfe if the world it selfe be shaken, and the most solid parts thereof quake, if that which is wholly immoueable and setled, There is nothing assured vnder heauen. to the end it may sustaine all other things on it bee shattered heere and there? If the earth looseth that which she hath propper in her, which is to be firme; whereupon may we assure our dismay and feare? What retreat shal there be for our bodies? Whether shall they retire in danger, if feare issueth and be drawne from the bottom of the earth? All men are amazed with feare hea­ring the houses cracke, and the ruine hath giuen a signe; then euery one flyeth headlong from the place, and forsaketh his home and houshold-goods, and set­leth himselfe in the open fields. What retreate discouer we? What succour appeareth if the world it selfe fall into ruine? If she that keepeth and sustaineth vs, whereon our Cities are builded, which some haue said to be the foundation of the world sinketh and trembleth? How vaine are the hopes which men apprehend amidst so great incertainties. What support, or rather what solace may a man hope for, when as feare i [...] selfe hath lost the meanes of flight? Is there a­ny assured retreat or firme safegard, say I, eyther for a mans selfe or another? I may repulse mine enemy from the breach; high Rampiers and Bulwarkes will stay great armies from approaching very easily. The heauens preserue vs from shipwracke: the corners of our houses resist the violence of raging raines, and d [...]fence vs from the continuall fall of showers: the fire followeth not those that flie it: the houses vnder ground, and deepe digged caues serue for a shelter against thunders and the threatnings of heauen. The lightning penetrateth not the earth, but is repulsed by a little obiect of the same. In the plague time a man may change his habitation. There is no euill but may be auoyded. Neuer did lightnings burne vp whole Nations. The pestilent ayre hath desolated Cities, but not destroyed them: this euill extendeth it selfe euery way, and is vnauoydably greedie, and publiquely harmefull. For it not onely deuoureth houses, or families, or priuate Cities, but ouerturneth whole Nations and Regi­ons, and sometime couereth them in her ruines, sometimes hideth them in a bottomlesse gulfe of confusion. Neyther leaueth it so much whereby it may appeare that that was at leastwise, which now is not. But the earth extendeth it selfe aboue noble Cities, without any appearance of the former condition: neyther want there some men that feare this kinde of death, more then any o­ther, whereby both they and their houses are swallowed vp, and are carried a­way aliue from the number of the liuing, as if all sorts of death conducted vs not to one and the same end. Consolations and remedies against the same. Amongst all other rites that nature pretendeth in iustice, this is the principall, that drawing neere vnto death we are all equall. There is no difference therfore whether a stone crush me, or a whole mountain smother me, whether the burthen of one house fall vpon me, or I breath my last vnder a little heape of the dust thereof, or whether the whole earth hide my head; if I die by day and before all men, or if some obscure and vast yawning of the earth couer me, if I fall alone into such a bottomlesse pit, or if many Nations keepe me companie. What care I if they make a great noyse about me when I shall depart? The death is alwayes death in what part soeuer I meete it. Let vs therefore fortifie our courages again [...]t this ruine, which neyther can be auoy­ded nor preuented. Let vs listen no more to those men, who haue renounced Campania, and who after this accident haue forsaken the countrie, and vow that they will neuer visit that Region againe; for who will promise them that [Page 861] this or that ground shall stand vpon better foundations. All places of the earth are of the same stu [...]e, and if as yet they are not moued, yet are they moueable: happily this night, or the day before this night shall deuide this place likewise, wherein thou liuest more securely. Whence wilt thou know that the conditi­on of these places is better, on which fortune hath alreadie spent all her forces, and are assured for euer by the ruine which they haue suffered. We deceiue our selues if we thinke that there is any part of the earth exempt from this dan­ger. All of them are subiect to the same law. Nature hath made nothing, which is not exposed to change: this thing faileth at one time, and that at ano­ther. And euen as in great Cities, now this house, now that is suspended; so in this world, All countries are exposed to earthquakes. now one Region is shaken, straight another. Tyre in times past was defaced by ruines. Asia lost twelue Cities at once. The last yeare Achaia and Macedon haue beene endamaged with this euill (whatsoeuer it be) that hath now afflicted Campania. Fate maketh his circuit; and if for a time he forget some things, at last he reuisiteth them. He afflicteth some more rarely, and o­thers more often, but leaueth nothing exempt and free from euill: he muste­reth not vs onely that are men that haue but a little handfull of life, but Cities also, extents of countries, shores, and the Sea it selfe. Meane while we make our selues beleeue that these corruptible things are eternall, and beleeue that our good hap which we enioy, and which passeth away more lightly then the wind, shal haue some waight or stay in this or that. And they that promise themselues that all things shal be perpetuall vnto them, cannot remember that the earth it selfe, on which we treade, is neyther firme nor stable: for this accident is hot onely incident to Campania and Achaia, but to euery ground, to be brittle, and to be resolued vpon diuers causes, and to be ruinated in part although the whole remaine.

CHAP. II.

WHat doe I? I had promised to set downe comforts against dangers, and beholde I denounce perrils euery way; The true assu­rance against dangers, is to re­member that we are exposed to dangers. I denie that there is any thing, which both cannot perish nor cause ruine, which may be euer in eternall repose: but contrariwise, I maintaine also that this ought to serue for the greatest assurance that may be found, because a feare without remedie is a meere folly. Reason shaketh off wise-mens feare, imprudent men gather great securitie in their desperation. Think there­fore that this is spoken vnto mankinde which was said vnto those men, who thorow a sudden captiuitie stood amased amidst the flame and the enemie.

The onely helpe to those that are in thrall
Is counted this, to hope no helpe at all.

If you will feare nothing, think that all things are to be feared: look about you, vpon how slight causes we are shaken and ouerturned. Neyther is our meate, nor our drinke, our watching, our sleepe wholsome for vs, except it be in some measure: you see now that our bodies are vaine, fluid, infirme, and easily de­stroyed. Vndoubtedly this one danger were enough that the earths tremble, that they are instantly dissipated, and swallow that which they themselues su­staine. He priseth himselfe very much, that feareth the lightning, the shaking [Page 862] and openings of the earth, although the sense of his owne infirmitie, make him feare his owne flegme. After this maner are we borne; hauing so happie mem­bers alotted vs, men growne to this greatnes, and for this cause, except the parts of the world be moued, except the heauens thunder, except the earth sinke, we cannot perish. A little paine, not of the whole finger but of one side of the naile of our little finger, or a chap killeth vs: and shall I feare the tremblings of the earth, The smallest dangers being sufficient to end vs, why should we feare any whatsoeuer ap­peareance o [...]e­reth it selfe, the end is one. whom a little thick spittle choketh? Shall I feare that the Sea shal breake from out his bounds, and that the flouds with a course more greater then accu­stomed, by assembling more waters should attempt to drowne me. When as a potion hath strangled some that slippeth downe the contrary way into the throat? What a fond thing is it to feare the Sea, when thou knowest that thou mayest perish by a little drop? There is no greater solace and remedie against death, then to know that we must die; and against all dangers that enuiron and astonish vs, to remember that we beare an infinite number of perrils in our bo­somes. For what madnesse can there be more, then to swound when we heare it thunder, and to hide our selues vnder earth for feare of lightning? What is more foolish then to feare the sudden fall and ouerthrow of mountaines, the o­uerflowes of the Sea, being cast without his bounds. When as death meeteth with vs in all places, and accosteth vs on al sides, and there is nothing so litle, but is of sufficient force to exterminate mankinde. Neyther should these accidents confound vs, as if they contained in them more euill then an ordinary death: but contrariwise, since we must needs depart out of this life, and at one time or o­ther breath our last, it should be a contentment for vs to die by some notorious meanes. We must needs die sometime, wheresoeuer it be. Although this earth that sustaineth me remaineth firme, and containeth it selfe within his limits, and is not shaken by any incommoditie, yet shall she couer me one day. What skils it then whether I couer my selfe, or that the earth of it selfe couer me? She openeth her selfe thorow the marueilous power of an vnknowne euill, she yaw­neth and maketh me sinke, and swalloweth me in her immeasurable depth: What then? is it a more gentle death to die in the plaine? What cause haue I to complaine, if nature will not permit me to be buried in an ignoble place? and if she cast a part of her selfe ouer me? My friend Vagellius wrote very wittily in that worthy Verse of his;

If I must fall this thing wish I,
That I may fall downe from the skie.

The same will I say if I must die; let it be then when all the world is shaken, not that it is a thing lawfull to wish the ruine of the world, but because it is a great solace against death, to see that all the earth must one day haue an end.

CHAP. III.

Of the naturall cau [...]es of earth­quakes. THis likewise shall profite much, to presume in minde that the gods doe none of these things, neyther that their indignation is the cause, whence proceedeth this agitation both of heauen and earth. Such accidents haue their causes; it is not by commande­ment that they rage thus, but euen as our bodies are afflicted with euill humours, so both heauen and earth haue certaine defaults, and euen then [Page 863] when they seeme to doe vs harme, they endamage themselues. But because we vnderstand not the true causes, all accidents seeme terrible vnto vs, and because they happen very seldome, we are thereby affrighted the more. Those euills that are ordinarie are more easily endured, but those that are extraordinarie, a­stonish the more. Whence it com­meth to passe that wee esteem [...] extraordinarie accidents for no­uelties. But why seemeth any thing a noueltie vnto vs? It is because we comprehend nature by the eyes and not by reason, and thinke no wayes on that which shee may doe, but only on that which shee hath done. Therefore are we worthily chastised for this negligence, being terrified by those accidents which wee call new, when as indeede they are not, but only vnaccustomed. What then? Feele we not our mindes seized with religious feare, and finde we not the common sort dismaid, to see the Sunne loose his light, or the Moone, (whose obscuritie is more often) when shee hideth her selfe wholly, or in some part, and farre more if we see pillars of enflamed fire thwarting the aire; a grea­ter part of the heauens on fire, if we see crinite Comets and diuers Sunnes, if we behold the starres by day time, the sodaine fires running from one part to an other, and leauing after them a great light? We behold none of these things without feare, and when as to be ignorant is the cause of feare, thinke you it a small matter to be instructed how you should not be affraid? How farre better were it therfore to seeke out the causes of these changes, by applying the minde diligently thereunto? For there cannot any one more worthy subiect be found out, wherein a man should not only fixe his studies, but spend them also.

CHAP. IIII.

LEt vs therefore seeke out what the cause is which moueth the earth from her bottome to the top, The causes of di­uers tremblings, and yawnings of the earth, and other such gre [...] accidents. that impelleth the waight of so massiue a body, what it is that hath so much force to bee able to lift vp so vnweldie a burthen, whence commeth it that some­times shee trembleth, and sometimes being loosened sincketh, now renteth her selfe into diuers parts, now appeareth long time open, some­times closeth her selfe sodainly, presently swalloweth vp great Riuers, anon af­ter disgorgeth new, discouereth in one place the veines of hot water, in an other cold: vomiteth sometimes fire by a new vent of a Mountaine or Rock: other whiles choaketh and shuteth vp those that had flamed and burned for the space of many yeares. Shee moueth a thousand miracles, produceth diuers changes, transporteth mountaines, maketh mountaines of plaines, swelleth vp the vallies, and raiseth new Islands in the Sea. To know the causes of so many accidents, is a thing worthy to be discussed. But what commoditie saiest thou will there grow hereby? The greatest in this world, which is the knowledge of nature. Although the consideration of this matter bringeth many commodities with it, What profit the sear [...] into na­ture yeelde [...]h a man. yet containeth it nothing in it selfe more excellent then this, that the worthi­nesse thereof wholly possesseth the minde that is fixed thereupon, and it is not the gaine, but the miracle that is obserued therein that maketh it venerable. Let vs consider then what the cause might be, why such things happen, the con­templation whereof is so pleasing vnto me, that although in times past, during my yonger yeares, I published a Treatise of earthquakes, yet had I a minde to trie and assay, whether age hath added any thing either to my knowledge or diligence.

CHAP. V.

Diuers opinions v [...]on the causes of ea [...]thquakes. SOme haue thought that the cause of earthquakes was in the aire, some in the impressions of fire, some in the earth it selfe, and other­some in the aire. Some haue said that two or three of the elements were the cause, some haue imputed it to all. Some of these haue said that one of these in their knowledge was the cause thereof, but which they knew not: But now let vs examine [...]uery particular. This be­fore all things must I needes say, that the opinions of the ancients were both grosse and feeble. The ignorance of the ancient [...] in this point of na­tural Philosophie. They wandered as yet about the truth. All things were new to those that spake of it first, but afterwards they were better polished and dis­couered, and if any thing be found out, yet for all that we ought to ascribe and attribute the honour to them. It was the enterprise of a high vnderstanding, to diue into the secrets of nature, and not content to behold her outwardly, to contemplate her inwardly, and to descend into the secrets of the Gods. He hath helped very much in the finding it out, that hath hoped that he might find the same. Our ancients therefore are to be heard with some excuse: nothing is con­summate in the beginning: neither in this thing only which is the greatest and most intricate of all others, wherein likewise when as much is performed, yet euery age shall finde what to doe: but in euery other businesse also, the begin­nings were alwaies farre from perfection.

CHAP. VI.

Whether waters be the cause of [...]a [...]hquakes. IT hath not beene maintayned by one, nor after one manner, that the water is the cause of earthquakes. Th [...]les Milesi [...]s is of the o­pinion, that all the earth floateth, and is carried aboue the water, whether it be that we call it the greater Ocean, or the great Sea, or any simple water of another nature, or a moist element. By this water, saith he, the earth is sustained as a great ship, which waigheth very much vpon the waters that bear it vp. It were a superfluous matter to set downe the reasons why he thinketh that the most waightiest part of the world cannot be sustained by the aire which is subtill and light: For the question is not now about the situation thereof, The reasons alle­ged by Thales to p [...]oue this, w [...]th Senecaes ans [...]e [...]es. but of the trembling of the same. He alleageth for one of his reasons, that the waters are the cause of the quaking thereof, because that in all extraordinarie motions, there issue almost ordinarily some new foun­taines: as it hapneth almost ordinarily by some ships, which if they be inclining to one side; and shew their keele aside-long [...], gather water, which (if it happen that the burthen they beare be ouer-waightie) either spreadeth it selfe aboue, raiseth it selfe more higher towards the right, or towards the left. Wee neede no long answere to shew that this opinion is false. For if the water sustayned the earth, sometimes the whole earth should bee shaken, and haue continuall motion, neither should we wonder that it is agitated, but that it stayeth setled. Shee should not tremble in a part, but wholly: for neuer is a ship shaken to the halfes. But the earthquake is not of the whole, but a part only. How then can it be [...] that all that which is carried is not wholly agitated? if that which is not carried is agitated? But why appeare new waters? First of all the earth hath of­tentimes trembled, and yet no new source hath euer discouered it selfe. Againe, [Page 865] if for this cause the water brake forth, it would spreade it selfe on both sides of the earth, as we see it hapneth in Riuers, and in the Sea, that when the ships lie at roade, the increase of the waters appeareth, especially about the sides of the Vessell. Finally, there should not be so small an eruption made as he speaketh, and the pump should not yeeld water as it were by cleft, but a great del [...]ge should be made as from an infinite water that beareth the earth.

CHAP. VII.

SOme haue imputed the motion of the earth to the water, Other re [...]sons of th [...]se who a [...]ter Th [...]le [...] haue thought, that the water is the cause of the trembling of the earth. but vpon a different cause: They say that diuers kinds of waters runne tho­row the whole earth: and that in some place the waters are per­petuall, great and nauigable, although it rayneth not. On the one side Nilus is very great [...] and violent in the Summer time, on the other Danu­bius and the R [...]ine, passing thorow peaceable and hostile Countries, the one brideling the incursions of the Sarmatians, and separating Europe from Asia [...] the other repelling the Almaines which are a warlike Nation. Adde hereunto the spacious Lakes, the pooles enuironed by nations that know not one an o­ther, the Marishes that neuer as yet ship hath thorowly sayled thorow, nor th [...] inhabitants that border thereupon haue [...]uer visited and searched. After thi [...] so many fountaines, so many sources, whence are vomited both from aboue and beneath the earth, so many Riuers in so great number. Besides these so many furious torrents, whose forces d [...]re as little as they are sodaine and vio­lent. Such is the nature and appearances of waters, especially of those that are in the earth. There likewise are diuers currents of maruailous swiftnesse, which spend themselues into bottomlesse pits: and others more gentill, which are spred abroade by spacious channells, where they flow peaceably without any noise. But who will denie that they are contayned [...]n vast receptacle [...], and that in diuers places they remayne in repose without stirring. I neede not long time insist vpon this proofe, that there are many waters there, where all are. For the earth would not suffice to produce so many flouds if shee had not aboun­dance in store. This being thus; it must needes b [...]e that sometimes a Riuer swelleth inwardly, and that in breaking his bounds hee runneth violently a­gainst that which resisteth him. By thi [...] meanes there shall bee some motion made of some part against which the floud inforceth it selfe, and again [...]t which it will beare vntill such time as it hath a decrease. It may bee that the Riuer exceeding his bounds eateth away some quarter of the Coun [...]rie, [...]nd car­ryeth with it a masse of the earth: which beginning to be dissolued, all the rest which is aboue is shaken and followeth after. But that man ouer-tr [...]steth [...] eyes, and cannot extend his minde f [...]rther then [...] [...]ye of hi [...] body, that be­leeueth not, that in the cauities of the earth there are gulfes of [...]he spacious Sea. For I see not what thing may hinder, but that there is a shore vnder earth, and that by the channells which are hidden vnder Sea, which therein it may bee haue as much and more place then those which wee see. The reason is that the earth and the sea, that is discouered to our sight, ought to bee as it were couered with so many Creatures as wee see. Contrariwise the Regions that are hidden, deserts, and without inhabitants, receiue the waters more free­ly, which nothing hindreth to flow, and to be agitated by those windes, by the [Page 866] whole ayre, and the whole distances of places. A storme being raised there, and more violent then ordinarie, may more rudely shake some portion of the earth which it encountreth with. For in our quarters likewise many places farre distant from the Sea, haue beene beaten with a sudden accesse and floud of the same; and the floud that is conceiued to come a farre off hath inuaded those countrey houses that are builded about vs. Vnder earth also the Sea may haue his ebbe and floate; which cannot be without some shaking of the earth, which is aboue the same.

CHAP. VIII.

He proueth that there are abun­dant waters vn­der the earth. I Thinke that thou wilt not very much debate and doubt, whether there bee riuers and a sea hidden vnder ground: for from whence doe they issue, and come vnto vs, except that it be because the wa­ter is inclosed in his source? Tell mee when thou seest the course of the riuer Tigris stayed, and the water thereof cried vp by little and little, and not all at once, and lesse appeareth not, but that it is diminished vntill such time as it is wholly dryed, whether thinkest thou that it goeth, when as thou seest it issue, as violent, spacious, and deepe as it was in the beginning? And when thou seest the riuer Alphaeus, which the Poets haue so much renow­ned, loose it selfe in Achaia, and aft [...]r hauing trauersed the sea, discouer it selfe in Sicilie, where with a liuely source it passeth forward the pleasant fountaine of Arethusa, what thinkest thou? Knowest thou not that amongst the reports that are made of the Riuer of Nilus, and the ouer flow thereof in Summer time, that it is said that it issueth from the earth, & that it increaseth not by the waters of the ayre, but by those waters that spring from vnder the earth? I haue heard say by two Centurions, whom the Emperour Nero Neroes praise during the first yeares of his Empire, but how great alte­ration breedet [...] much authority, where the coun­sailors are flat­terers, religion paganisme, de­light impiety? (a friend of all vertue, but a­boue all of veritie) had sent to di [...]couer the source of Nilus, that after a long iourney, accomplished by the assistance of the King of AEthiopia, who had re­commended them to diuers other Kings, they came vnto certaine marishes of infinite extent, the inhabitants of which countrey knew not the end thereof, and no man durst promise himselfe to discouer the same, by reason that the hearbe [...] and waters were so tyed together, that it was impossible for a foote­man to trauell; no lesse for a Boate, because the Marishes being full of mud and flags, could not beare the vessell wherein there was any more then one man. They adde moreouer, that they haue seene in Marishes two rocks, from whence the water falleth abundantly. But whether it be that such water be called the source or increase of Nilus, or that he hath his beginni [...]g there, or that he is de­riued from farther places, thinkest thou that it mounteth not from some great Lake vnder ear [...]h? It must needes be tha [...] these rockes haue their waters deriued from diuers place [...], and gath [...]ed vp on high, which discharge themselues in such abundance and s [...] violently.

CHAP. IX.

THere be some that iudge fire to be the cause of this motion, The examinatiō of their opinion who hold that the fire i [...] cause of earthquake. yet consider they this cause in diuers fashions. Amongst the rest A­naxagoras thinketh that the ayre and the earth are almost shaken by the same cause. When as the winde which is inclosed vnder earth, breaketh the ayre which was thickened and formed in a cloude, with as great violence as the clouds which wee see are accustomed to breake, and that the fire by this entershocke of clouds, and by the course of the ayre, which is restrained within it, causeth lightning to issue. This ayre oppo­seth it selfe against all things it meeteth, which seeking a passage to issue forth, and teareth open all that which hindereth it, vntill such time that eyther it hath found a passage by some little hole to mount towards heauen, or that it hath gotten it by force and violence. Some say that the cause is in the fire, but they are not of opinion that it is for this reason, but for that being couered in diuers places, it burneth and consumeth all that which it meeteth withall. And if the things that are eaten thereby happen to fall, then is it that there followeth a disiunction of the parts, which are disfurnished of their stayes, and finally, a totall ruine, because nothing presenteth it selfe to sustaine the burthen. Then are the openings and vast yawaings of the earth discouered; or else when the partes of the same haue long time declined, they which remaine in­tire beginne to dissolue. We see the like hereof happen amongst vs as often­times as the fire hath taken holde of some quarter in the Citie, when as the beames and principals are burned, or that the maine tymbers that sustaine the house are sunke, then the house being shaken falleth to the ground, and so long time shrinke they, and are vncertaine, vntill they haue found some place to stay vpon.

CHAP. X.

ANAXIMENES saith, that the earth her selfe is the cause of her motion, The opinion of Anaximenes, that the earth it selfe is the cause of her motion. neyther is there any thing extrinsecally that impelleth the same, but that into her, and from her fall certain parts which the water dissolueth, or the fire eateth, or the winde shaketh? but although rhese three cease, yet ceaseth she not to haue somthing, by meanes whereof this revulsion and diminution is made. For first of all, all things decline by succession of time, and there is nothing that is exempted from the hands of age which ruinates the strongest & most solid things. Euen as ther­fore in olde houses, some things fall although they are not strooken, when as they haue more waight vpon them then force to beare it: so falleth it out in this vniuersall bodie of the earth, that the partes thereof are dissolued by age, and being dissolued, fall and breede a trembling in the vpper parts. First, whilst they seperate themselues (for there is no great thing that is disioy­ned without the motion of that whereunto it cleaueth) then when they are falne they rebound backe againe after the manner of a ball, which falling from on high vpon the earth, is many times strooken vp, and maketh diuers bounds. But if they happen to fall into some great poole, the water that is moued by [Page 868] the fall maketh that tremble which is round about, and it is the waight that falleth from on him that causeth this present shocke, and that spreadeth it eue­rie wayes.

CHAP. XI.

Another opinion of those that thinke the earth­quake is caused by fire. THere are some that assigne this trembling to the fire, but other­wise; for when as in diuers places they are hote and boyling, it must needes be, that a mightie vapour is turned vp and downe without issue, which by the multiplication thereof reinforceth the ayre; which being animated & prouoked, riueth that which it opposite; but if it be more remisse it doth nothing else but moue. We see that water fometh when fire is put vnder it. That which this fire doth in this water, that is included in a straight and narrow vessell, but farre more we may thinke it may doe it, when with violence and great abundance, hee causeth great quantities of waters to boyle. Then agitateth hee by the vaporation of the waters that ouerflow, whatsoeuer he beateth vpon.

CHAP. XII.

Whether the winde be the cause of earth-quakes. MAny and the greatest learned men, are of the opinion that the winde is the cause of earthquakes. Archelaus who hath carefully examined the opinions of the auncients, saith thus: The windes are carried thorow the cauities of the earth, afterwards when all spaces of the same are filled, and that the ayre is thickned as much as may be, that winde that commeth after presseth and expresseth the former, and first of all by redoubled stroakes pusheth it forward, and finally casteth it out. This seeking for a place, runneth here and there, and enforceth it selfe to breake his bounds. Thus commeth it to passe that the earth is sha­ken by the winde, which striueth and seeketh for a passage to get out at; when as therefore an earthquake is like to follow, first there goeth before it a tranquil­litie and calme of the aire, and the reason is, because the power and vertue which was accustomed to moue the windes, is detained vnder earth. And now likewise in this earthquake of Campania, although it were in Winter time, and in a troubled season; yet so it is that some dayes before it happened, the ayre was calme and peaceable. What then? Was there neuer earthquake when the windes blew? Very seldome haue two windes blowne at once: yet can it be, and it is wont to be; which if we admit, and that it appeareth that two windes may blow at once, why might it come to passe that the one should agitate the higher ayre, and the other the inferiour.

CHAP. XIII.

YOu may number amongst those of this opinion Aristotle and his scholler Theophrastus, The firme opini­on of Aristotle and others, that winde is the cause of earth­quakes. a man not so excellent and diuine as the Graecians make him, yet of a pleasing, fluent, and vnaffected dis­course. I will discouer vnto thee both their opinions: there is al­wayes some euaporation from the earth, that is sometimes drie, sometimes intermixed with humiditie. This exhalation issuing from beneath, and carried vp as high as it might, when as she hath not a farther place by which she may finde issue, recoyleth backe againe, and enfoldeth her selfe in her selfe: and whilst the debate of the winde, which goeth and commeth, ouer­turneth that which maketh head against her, be it that she remaineth enclosed, be it that she escapeth by narrow straights, she moueth earthquakes and thun­ders. Strabo is of the same opinion; a man who hath carefully addicted him­selfe to this part of Philosophie, and hath diligently searched out the secrets of Nature. This is his opinion: Colde and heate are two opposites, and cannot be together, the colde slippeth in thither where the heat is absent; as contrariwise, the heate entereth that place whence the colde is driuen. This that I speake is true; but that both are driuen contrariwise, by this it appeareth. In Winter time when the colde is vpon the earth the Springs are warme, the Caues and all hidden places vnder earth are hot, because the heate is retired thither, giuing place vnto the colde that possesseth the vpper part. When the heate is thus en­tered into the lower partes, and hath insinuated it selfe as much as it may, the thicker it is the stronger it is. If a new heate come vnto it, the one being pressed by the other giueth place: the contrarie happeneth, when as the colde becom­ming more powerfull slippeth into the Caues. All the heate which at that time was hidden therein, giuing place vnto the colde, retireth it selfe into some narrow corner, and is moued, and inforceth it selfe with great violence; for the nature of them both admitteth no concord, neyther can they euer bide in one place. Flying therefore and striuing by all meanes to get out, he ouerthroweth, ruinateth and tosseth whatsoeuer he meeteth. Therefore before the earth is moued, men are accustomed to heare a kinde of whistling or murmure whilst the windes combate beneath, or otherwise, as our Virgil saith could not,

The earth waues vnder feet, the mountaines quake.

If the winde were not the cause hereof. There are likewise vicissitudes of this fight, and each hath his turne. The heate ceaseth to assemble it selfe, and to issue. Then is the colde repressed, and succeedeth to reinforce himselfe in­continently: when as therefore the force of heate and colde runneth and re­turneth often, and that the winde goeth and returneth here and there, then is it that the earth trembleth.

CHAP. XIIII.

The diuers cau­ses of earth­quakes by the meanes of wind. THere are some that thinke that earth is shaken by the wind, and by no other meanes; but they imagine another cause then Aristotle did. And heare what they say. Our bodie is watered and moi­stened with bloud and spirit, which run here and there, thorow those passages that are deputed to those offices. But we haue som more narrow receptacles of the soule, by which she doth nothing else but wan­der, some more open and spacious, in which she is gathered together, and from whence she diuideth her selfe into parcels. So this great bodie of the earth is o­pen to the waters that possesse the place of bloud, and to the windes, which a man may well call the soule. These two encounter in some place, in some place stay. But as in the bodie, as long as it is in health, the continuall beating of the arterie is measured, but if the health thereof be altered, the pulse is frequent and high, the signes and violent respirations, are the signes that the bodie is wearied and afflicted. In like sort when as the waters and the winds are in their naturall receptacles in the bodie of the earth, they haue no agitation aboue measure. But if there happen any disorder, at that time there is distemper, as in a sicke bodie, the wind that breathed along pleasantly, if it be stopped in the passage, agitateth his vaines. It followeth not therefore that the earth should be as the bodie of a liuing creature, as some doe pretend. For if it were so, it should be wholly agitated as a liuing creature is. And we our selues feele that feuor affli­cteth not some parts of the bodie more gently then other some, but that shee runneth thorow all equally. Consider therefore, if it be not true that the wind entereth into the earth, replenished with aire round about, which as long as he hath free passage, stealeth a long gently, if hee encounter with any thing that stoppeth his passage, first of all he is charged by the aire that presseth after hard at his backe, afterwards he flieth secretly by some crany, and the more eagerly dislodgeth he, the more straiter his passage is. This cannot be done without conflict, neither is there any combate without agitation. If he findeth not any clift to escape there, he gathereth himselfe together and beginneth to tempest, whirling vpwards and downwards, vntill such time as he hath ouer­turned and suncke that which resisted him: if he be subtill, he is wonderously strong, and if he slideth thorow passages that are somewhat narrow, and that by his vertue he enlargeth and dissipateth all that where he entereth, then is the earth shaken. For either she openeth her selfe to giue passage to the winde, or after she hath giuen it, being destitute o [...] foundation, shee seazeth and sea [...]eth her selfe in that cauity whereby she gaue him passage.

CHAP. XV.

The third opinion of ea [...]thquaks by [...]orce of wind. THus some thinke: The earth is perforated in diuers places, nei­ther hath she onely these first entrances and pores which she re­ceiued as vents from her beginning, but casualtie hath bred many more in her. In some places the water hath enlarged all that earth which she had ouer her, the torrents haue eaten away some por­tion, the greatest heates haue cleft another. The winde entereth betwixt both, which if the sea hath included and driuen, neither suffered the flouds to go back­ward, [Page 871] then he being cut off both of his entrance and returne, tumbleth about. And because he cannot, according to his nature, tend directly, he shooteth vp himselfe on high, and reuerberateth the earth that presseth him.

CHAP. XVI.

WE must also speake something as touching that which diuers Au­thors approue, The fourth opi­nion as touching the trembling of the earth by wi [...]de. and where it may be they will be found to be dif­ferent. True it is that the earth is not without aire, and not on­ly this aire which maintaineth the same, and tieth the parts thereof together, penetrating likewise thorow stones and other bodies without life: but also this vitall aire which quickeneth and nourisheth all things. If she had it not, how should she giue life to so many plants and seeds, which draw their vigor from no place els? How could she entertain and sustain so many diuers roots in her, the one of one fashion, the other of another; the one entertained in her vpper part, the others buried more deeper, if she had not much soule which engendreth so many and so diuers things, and nourisheth them by her inspiration and vertue? Hitherto haue I [...]et downe but coniectures. All the heauens, that are enclosed and arounded with elementarie fire, all these innumerable numbers of the starres, Senec [...]es opi­nion as touching the greatnesse of the Sunne. all the celestiall bodies, and amongst th [...] rest, the Sunne (shaping his course more neere vnto vs, and which is but twice as great as the globe of the earth) draw nourishment from the earth, and di­uide it amongst them, being sustained by nothing [...]lse but terrestriall vapoures. This is their nourishment and feeding. But the earth could not nourish so ma­ny creatures, so ample and more greater then her selfe, if she were not full of a soule, that day and night is spread thorow all her parts. For it cannot be but that there remaineth very much in her, from whence there is so much both ex­pected and gathered, and that which issueth forth should not be bred in his proper t [...]me. She should not haue continuall abundance of spirit to furnish so many celestiall bodies, if these things had not concurrence amongst themselues, and were not grounded and changed in some other thing. Yet of necessitie shee must abound and be full, and that shee furnish her selfe with it, which shee hath in store. There is no doubt then, but that much spirit is hidden therein, and that within the entrals of the earth there is a maruellous abundance of aire. This being so, that must needes follow, that that which is filled with a thing which is very moueable, should bee oftentimes remoued. Euery one knoweth that there is nothing more inconstant, stirring, and fleeting then the aire.

CHAP. XVII.

IT is conuenient therefore that she exercise h [...]r nature, A consequence drawne from the precedent discourse, and a proofe that the wind is the cause of the trembling of the earth. and that that which will alwaies be moued, should sometime [...] agitate and moue other things. When is this do [...]e? Then when her course is cut off and stayed. For as long as he is not intercepted, he stea­leth along quietly and peaceably, but if he be resisted or restrai­ned, he entereth into furie, and breaketh thorow all that which intercepteth him, [...]u [...]n as the Poet s [...]ith by the floud: [Page 872]

Araxes that disdaines to beare a bridge.

As long as he hath an easie and free passage, he fleeteth along at pleasure, but if either by cunning or aduenture some stones are gathered together which stay his course, hee taketh occasion hereby to doe much mischiefe, and the more stones are opposed against him, the more forces findeth he. For all these flouds that come behind, and make the heape more high, being vnable to support themselues any more, ouerthrow all things in passing by, and flie along leuel­ling their streame with that they haue ouerthrowne, and those waues that fled before them. The winde can neuer be stayed. The same befalleth the winde: The more vigorous and swift it is, the more swiftly flieth it, and carrieth away with it, with greater violence, all that which either stoppeth or resisteth his passage. Thence commeth the earth-quake, but in that part vnder which this conflict was made. That this which I haue spoken is true, it appeareth by this that followeth. Oft-times when there hath bin an earth-quake, if any part of the same hath beene shattered, the winde hath issued forth, and blowne for the space of diuers daies, as it fell out by re­port in that earthquake, The conclusion of all the prece­dent discourse. whereof those of Chalcis were afflicted, which was described by Asclepi [...]dotus, Possidonius scholler, in his booke of Naturall Questi­ons. You shall finde in other Authors, that the earth being opened in a certaine place: anone after, there issued a winde, which vndoubtedly had made his way in that part from whence it blew.

CHAP. XVIII.

In what sort the winde causeth the earth to tremble. SO then the winde being by nature swift, and changing from place to place, is the greatest cause wherby the earth is moued. As long as this wind is impelled and lieth hidden in a void place, it remai­neth calme, and doth no euill to that which enuironeth it; when as any externall or superuenient cause solliciteth him and chaseth him, and driueth him into a strait: yet for a while giueth he place and wande­reth, but when as all occasion of escape is taken from him, and he is pressed on euery side then,

With a mightie murmure of the mountaine,
He furious runnes about his strait inclosure

And after he hath long time beat against the same, hee teareth and scattereth it in pieces, showing himselfe the more violent, the longer that this debate hath lasted in his prison and enclosure. Afterwards when as he hath searched euery nooke of the place wherein he was restrained and could not escape, hee retur­neth towards that part, where he was most of all impact and closed, and then slideth he away by certaine secret places, which the earthquake hath a little o­pened, or passeth by some new breach. Behold how his extreame violence can­not be stayed, and there is no restraint sufficient to retaine him: for he breaketh all bounds, and carrieth with him euery burthen that is laid vpon him, and in­fused into those things that are more small and thinne, he prepareth himselfe a release and libertie by an inuincible power that is naturall vnto him, and run­ning [Page 873] on head-long, establisheth himselfe in his rights. In a word, the wind [...] [...]s inuincible, neither is there any thing that,

May keepe in awe, or else in prison strong
The strugling windes or tempest thun [...]ring long.

Vndoubtedly the Poets, who haue discoursed in these tearmes; intended to speake of these couerts vnder ground, where the windes r [...]maine inclosed. But they haue not comprehended, that that which is inclosed is not winde alrea­die, and that that which is the winde, cannot bee enclosed. For that which is enclosed remaineth still, and is a statue of the aire. The winde appeareth not to be winde, A comparison taken from the body of man. but when it flieth. To these reasons a man may adde this also, which proueth that the windes is the cause of earthquakes, that is to say, that our bodies tremble not, except some cause doe sh [...]ke the spirit, which being re­strained by feare, weakened by age, the vaines decaying and shrinking, is a [...] ­sted by cold, or when the accesse approacheth is cast out of his cours [...]. For as long as he floweth without hinderance, and floweth according to his accusto­med manner, there is no shaking in the bodie. But if any thing happ [...]n that hin­dereth him from performing his office, then being scarc [...] able to beare those things which he sustained by his vigor, in falling he shaketh all that which in his integritie he had supported.

CHAP. XIX.

BVt we must needs giue care to Metrodorus Chius, The opinion of Metrodorus vpon this point. that will haue his opinion stand for law. For min [...] owne part I will not ouer­slip those opinions I approue not, when as it is far better to pre­sent all, and rather to condemne that which we approue not, then to passe it vnder silence. What saith he then? Euen as his voice that sing [...]th in a tunne, passeth and resoundeth in euery place with a cer­taine eccho, and although it be not high, yet filleth it alwaies the [...]unne, not without noise and rebound of the same: So the capacitie and vastit [...]e of the ca­uities, and holes that hang vnder ground haue their aire, which as soone as ano­ther that falleth from aboue hath strucken, maketh a noise, euen as the thing [...] that are voide, whereof I haue spoken, haue a resound, when any one crieth in them.

CHAP. XX.

LEt vs now come vnto them, The examinati­on of their opini­on who thinke that all the ele­ments together, or the most part, are the cause of Earthquakes. that haue said that all the Elements, or the greater part of those whereof we haue spoken, are the cause of earthquake. Democritus setteth them not downe all, but for the most part. For sometimes he saith that the wind is the cause, some [...]times the water, and sometimes both; and this prosecuteth he after this manner. Some part of the earth is hollow, and in that there assem­bleth a great quantitie and abundance of water. Of this there is some part more [Page 874] subtill and liquid then the rest: This being reiected by the waight that com­meth vpon it, is beaten against the earth, and shaketh the same. For it could not float, except it shaked that against which it is beaten. That likewise which here­tofore we haue spoken by the aire, may be said by the water also, when as it is gathered into one place, and that it ceaseth to containe any more: she stayeth her selfe against something: then worketh she an issue first by h [...]r waight, se­condly by her violence, for she cannot haue issue, but by some hollow or ben­ding place hauing beene long time retained, nor fall by measure in a right line, or without shaking those things, by which, and vpon which she falleth. But if it so fall out, that hauing taken some motion, she happen to stay in some place, and that this collection of water mounteth backe againe, and confuseth it selfe in it selfe; she is repulsed towards the firme land, which she shaketh to­wards that side where she dischargeth her selfe most. Furthermore, the earth being sometimes steeped in water that hath entred into it, setleth a little lower, and the bottom thereof is shaken: which comming to passe, this part is pressed towards that, towards which the greatest abundance of water enclineth. Some­times also the winde pusheth forward the waues, and if he insist with more vio­lence then ordinarie, he causeth that portion of the earth to tremble, into which he translated the waters that are gathered by him. Somtimes inclosed in straits, and seeking issue, he stirreth all those things which he enuironeth, but the earth is porie, and giueth passages for the winde, which is so thin and pure, that a man cannot containe it, and so strong, that nothing can resist his force. The Epicure [...]aith that all these causes may be, and he s [...]archeth out diuers others likewise, censuring those that haue maintained that both the one and the other causes a­boue mentioned, proceed from the quaking of the earth; sure it is a thing al­most impossible to maintaine certaine things to be certaine, which a man can­not comprehend but by simple coniecture. So then, according to his opinion, the water may shake the earth, if it hath washed and worne away some porti­ons thereof, which being diminished and infeebled, cannot any more sustaine that, which they bare being in their entire. The impression of the aire may cause an earthquake, and it may come to passe that the externall aire shall be a­gitated by another, that commeth to intermixe it selfe with it. It may be also that the earth being iustled by some part of it selfe, that sincketh and falleth suddenly, is shaken likewise: Or else a portion of the same, being sustained by some supports, trembleth if either the supporters bend, or retire backe. Happi­ly also some inflamation of the aire being conuerted into fire, and like vnto lightnings darteth forth and confoundeth all that which it meeteth withall. And it may bee that some winde incenseth both the waters of marishes and pooles, whence followeth an earthquake, because the shocke is violent, or else the agitation of the aire, which encreaseth by motion and vrgeth it selfe, moueth all things from the bottome to the top. But the Epicure can finde no more certaine cause of earthquake then the winde.

CHAP. XXI.

THis is our opinion also, Seneca accor­deth with Ari­stotle in his opi­nion, in as much as concerneth earthquakes. that it is the wind that eff [...]cteth so great things: since there is nothing so strong and violent in nature, and without which, those things that are most vehement, haue not a­ny vigor. The wind enkindleth the fire: take away the wind from the waters, they are sluggish and dead; but if the wind stirreth them, they flow violently. The wine can dissipate the greatest spaces of coun­tries, make new mountaines appeare and rise, place vnseene Isles in the middest of the Ocean. Who doubteth but that the winde brought that Island of The­rasia into sight, which in our time appeared in the AEgean seas, in the presence of those Mariners that beheld the miracle. Possidonius setteth downe two sorts of earthquakes, Three sorts of earthquakes. giuing euery one of them a seuerall name: the one is called Suc­cussion, when the earth is moued vpward and downwards: The other is called Inclination, when the earth is shaken, and inclineth to one side like a boat. But I think there is a third, which hath his denomination from vs, and our predeces­sors haue called Earthquake, and not without cause, because they differ the one from the other. For in these accidents there is not alwayes an agitation from high to low, nor an inclining on one side or another, but sometimes a darting or pressing forward, which is the least dangerous, whereas on the other side the in­clination is farre lesse dreadfull then the succussion or shaking. For if in the in­clination of the earth, the opposite motion, hasteth not to redresse that which bendeth side-long, there necessarily followeth a dreadfull raine. And as these motions are different in themselues, so are their causes diuers.

CHAP. XXII.

THerefore let vs first of all speake of the motion by succussion or shaking. Of the earth­quake by succus­sion. If at any time, by change of diuers chariots, men carry great burthens, and that the wheeles being drawne with more then vsuall force, sincke into some place, you shall feele a shaking of the earth. Asclepi [...]dotus reporteth, that when as a stone fell from the side of a mountaine that was broken, it shaked in such sort the buil­dings that were neere [...] that they fell to the ground. The like may happen vnder earth, that some of those stones that hang ouer the mountaine, being dissolued, fal with some great waight and noise into the hollowes that are vnder earth, and the greater the waight is, and the higher it falleth from, the more violent noise is there made; and so all the couering of the hollow valley is moued. And it is not vnlikely but the rocks are pushed downward, and diuided by their simple waight; but when as the riuers flow and rage aboue them, the water continual­ly minisheth the ioynts of the stone, riuing off (if I may so speake) the skin that incloseth it. This diminution increasing by succession of time, infeebleth in such sort that which it hath eaten, by little and little, that such staies cannot any more sustaine the burthen. Then fall the stones through excessiue waight and this rocke being cast downe head-long, shaketh all that which it hath driuen to the bottome, hauing found no resistance.

And all things seeme to fall to sudden ruine.

[Page 876] As our Virgil saith. This should be the cause of this motion of succussion: now passe I ouer to the other cause.

CHAP. XXIII.

Of the earth­quake by incli­nation. THe earth is of a rare nature, and hath much void in it. Thorow these parts and rarities the wind is carried, which when it is ente­red in some quantitie and findeth no issue, it shaketh the earth. This cause, i [...] a troop of witnesses preuaileth any thing with thee, is pleasing vnto others, as I haue said a little befor [...]. This likewise doth Calisthenes approue a man of no smal reckoning. For he was a man of a no­ble mind, and such a one as could not endure a Princes insolencie. Alexander is defamed for euer, which neither his vertue, neither his felicity in warre can euer redeem. For as oftentimes as a man shal say, that he hath defeated diuers thou­sands of Barbarians: it will be opposed, and Calisthenes also. If any one saith A­lexander killed Darius, who at that time was the greatest King of the earth: some will reply, and Calisthenes too. When some shall alleage that he conquered all that which he met withall, as farre as the bounds of the Ocean, on which he rigged new nauies, extending his Empire from the one corner of Thrace, as far as the furthest part of the East, it will be said that he slew Calisthenes. Although he hath surpassed all Princes, and precedent Captaines: the wrong which he offered Calisthenes was so great, that it blemisheth all his other exploits. This Philosopher then, in his bookes wherein he describeth how Helice and Bu [...]is haue beene deuoured by the waters: Calisthenes opinion. and what accident was the cause why the sea couered them, or why they were sucked vp, saith that which hath bin tou­ched in the former part, that the winde entered the earth by some small and se­cret conduits in all parts, yea vnder the sea. Afterwards, when this course which it had held to enter, is stopped, and the water hat [...] cloased vp behind him all other passage, he turneth here and there, and returning himselfe into himselfe, shaketh the earth. And therefore is it, that the places that border vpon the sea are oftentimes agitated: and the Poets haue assigned this power vnto Neptune. Whosoeuer vnderstandeth the Greeke tongue, knoweth that Homer surnameth him [...], that is to say, Earth-shaker.

CHAP. XXIIII.

In what manner the wind entreth into the earth, to cause it to trem­ble. FOr mine owne part I am of this opinion that the wind is the cause of such an euill. I will only debate vpon one point, in what man­ner this winde entereth, if it bee by pores, so strait that the eye cannot obserue them, or if they are more greater, and open, and likewise whether they rise from the bottome or aboue the earth. This is incredible: For in our bodies likewise, the skinne repulseth the winde, which hath not entered, except by those passages, by which it is drawne, and being entertained by vs, cannot consist but in the most spacious part of the bo­die, for it remaineth not amongst the nerues, and in the pulpe, but in the entrals, and the large retreat of our brests. A man may think as much of the earth, espe­cially by reason that the shaking happeneth not aboue, nor about the surface of the earth, but from beneath, and proceedeth from the bottom. The proofe [Page 877] whereof is, that the deepest seas are agitated, when as that whereupon they are spred is moued [...] It is therefore likely to be true that the earth is agitated from the bottome, where the winde is formed in spacious dennes: Some will reply, that euen as after we are seised with great cold, a horror and trembling succee­deth, so the winde finding a passage outward causeth the earth to tremble. But this is impossible. For first of all the earth should of necessitie be subiect to this accesse of cold, to the end that the same might befall her as doth vs, who q [...]iuer vpon an externall cause. I will not denie, but that there is something in the earth that hath some resemblance with that which hapneth in our bodies, but the causes are diuers. It must needs be some interior and deepe agitation, that sha­keth the earth, as a man may gather euidently enough by this, because the earth hauing beene opened by a very great and terrible motion, such opening hath sometimes swallowed and sucked vp whole Cities, which no man hath seene af­terwards. Thucydides writeth, that about the time that the war was in Pelopone­sus, al the Atlantique Island, or the most part thereof, was couered with waters. As much hapned in Sidonia, if thou beleeuest Possidonius. This matter needeth no witnesses: for we our selues remember, that the earth hauing beene opened by an inward earthquake, all the Countries were ruined, and the Champions perished: which I will now tell you how I thinke it hapneth.

CHAP. XXV.

WHen as the winde with great violence hath engulfed himselfe wholly in the cauities and void places of the earth, How the earth is shaken by the winde. and that it be­ginneth to tempest in seeking an issue, it oftentimes beateth a­gainst the sides and places, wherein he is restrained, vpon which sometimes whole Cities are situated. And these at sometimes are in such sort shaken, that the houses that are builded thereupon fall vnto the ground. Sometimes the agitation is so violent, that the foundations and walls that sustayne all the rest of building, fall into this concauitie, in such sort as whole Cities sinke downe into a depth without end or measure. If thou wilt beleeue it, it is reported that the mountaine Ossa was ioyned to the mountayne Olympus, and was torne away by an earthquake in such sort, that the Moun­tayne, that beforetime was very thick, was diuided into two: and that at that time, the Riuer Peneus retyred himselfe, which dryed vp the Marishes that were discommodious to Thessalie, aud carried with him those waters that were set­led there without issue. The maruailous force of the winde. Ladon, a Riuer that is betwixt Helis and Megalopolis, was caused to flow by an earthquake, what proue I by this? That the windes are gathered in spacious caues: for I can giue no other name to those voide places vnder earth. If it were otherwaies, the greater part of the earth should be sha­ken, where as now the earthquake extendeth it selfe neuer farther then two hundreth miles about. That whereof all the world talketh hath not passed Cam­pania. At such time as Chalcis was shaken, Thebes remayned in quiet. AE­gium was violently tossed, and Patrassa that was neare vnto it, heard nothing of it. That vast concussion that oppressed the two Cities of Helice and Buris, staid on the other side of AEgium, How farre the earthqu [...]ke ex­tendeth. whereby it appeareth that the earthquake had as much extent as vnder earth those hollow places had, where the winde was enclosed.

CHAP. XXVI.

The examinati­on of their opini­ons who hold the [...]gyptians, and the Island of Delos were neuer shaken. I Could abuse the authoritie of great men to proue this, who write that Egypt hath neuer trembled. And the reason they yeeld here­of is this; That it is wholly gathered and composed of mud. For (if we may giue credit to Homer) Phares was so farre off from the Continent as a ship with full saile may reach in one dayes iournie: but now it is adioyned to the continent. For Nilus flowing with a troubled streame, and bearing along with him much mud, and heaping it afterwards on those other lands, that are vnited together, hath from yeare to yeare enlarged the Confines of Egypt. Thence is it that it is a fat and muddie ground, without any openings, but of a continued thicknes: the mud being become drie; which hath stopped vp and cimented all that structure, and vnited all the parts of the same so well together, that no voide may come betweene, considering that al­waies that which is soft and moist, ioyneth it selfe with that which was solide. But I say that Egypt is subiect to trembling, and the Isle of Delos likewise, al­though that Virgil willed them to stand:

He made th'inhabitants this fauour finde,
Neither to feare strange earthquakes, nor strange winde.

These the Philosophers likewise (a credulous Nation, according to Pindarus) said to bee exempt from trembling: Thucydides writeth, that before time it had not beene agitated, but that about the time of the Peloponesian warre it trem­bled. Calisthenes saith, that it was at an other time. Amongst many prodigies (saith hee) which denounced the ouerthrow of Helice and Buris, there were two most notable, the one was a pillar of fire, of immeasurable greatnesse, the o­ther the earthquake in Delos. The reason why he thinketh that Delos is firme, is, that being in the sea it hath many hollow rocks and stones that are pierced through, which giue passage to the windes that are enclosed. He addeth, that by reason hereof the Islands are more assured, and the Cities also that are more nearer to the sea. The Citie of Pompeias and Hercule haue [...]elt, that this is false. Furthermore, all the sea coasts are subiect to agitation. So Paphos hath oftentimes been ruined, and Nicopolis likewise too familiarly acquainted with this miserie. A deepe sea inuironeth Cyprus, yet is it shaken, and so is Tyre likewise: Hitherto haue we examined the causes why the earth trembleth.

CHAP. XXVII.

A discourse vpon [...] sheepe which were found dead in that earthquake, and of the causes of this accident. BVt some particular accidents fell out in this earthquake of Campa­nia, whereof I am to set downe some reasons. For they say that six hundreth flock of sheepe were killed in the Region of Pompeias. Thou hast no cause to thinke that these sheepe perished through feare, we haue said that after great earthquakes, there ordinarily followeth a pestilence: neither is this to be wondered at, because many pestilent things lie hidden in the depth. The aire it selfe, that is imprisoned in eternall obscuritie, either by the intermission of the earth, or by his owne idlenesse, is pernicious vnto those that suck the same, either being corrupted by the malig­nitie [Page 879] of hidden fires, when it is sent from a farre off, it soileth and infecteth the other aire which is pure, and breedeth new sicknesses in them who breath the same, whereunto they haue not beene accustomed. Furthermore, there are certaine vnprofitable and pestilent waters, hidden in the hollowes and secrets of the earth, and the cause why they are such, is, because they haue neither flux nor reflux, nor are beat vpon by any freer wind. Being then thus thick and coue­red with an obscure mist, they haue nothing in them that is not pestilent, and contrarie to our bodies. The aire likewise that is intermixed with them, and that lyeth amidst those marishes when it rayseth it selfe, spreadeth a generall corruption, and killeth those that draw the same. But bruit beasts and cattell feele this least, on whom the plague the more greedier they are, raigneth more fiercely. The reason is, because they remaine most often in open aire, and a­long by riuer sides, which ordinarily draw more contagion. As touching sheep, which are of a more tender nature, and haue their heads almost daily inclining towards the ground, I wonder not that they haue been attainted with this con­tagion, considering that they haue sucked and gathered the breath of the infe­cted aire from the earth. Such an aire had done more mischiefe vnto men, had it issued in greater aboundance, but before it issued or was suckt vp by any man, it was choaked by aboundance of pure aire that breath [...]d.

CHAP. XXVIII.

THat the earth containeth many things both pestilent and mortall, Why the ayre is­suing from the hollow places of the earth is pesti­lent and mortall. thou maist know, because so many poisons issue from it, not scat­tered by the hand, but of their owne accord, the ground contay­ning in it the seedes both of good and euill. And why? are there not diuers places in Italie wherein by secret pores certaine veno­mous vapors are exhaled, that kill both man and beasts if they draw near them. The birds also if they light vpon it before it be tempered with a better aire, fall downe in their very flight, and their bodies become blew and swolne, euen as these humane bodies are, that are strangled. This spirit as long as it is contay­ned in the earth, flowing through a small and slender passage, hath no more power to kill any, but those that looke into that, or willingly offer themselues vnto it. But when as for many ages it hath beene hidden in darknesse, and tho­row the malignitie and vice of the place hath gather [...]d more corruption, the longer it stayeth there the more heauie it waxeth, and consequently the more pernicious is it. But when it hath gotten an issue, it spreadeth that eternall ve­nome; of shadie cold and infernall night, and infecteth the aire of our Region. For the best are ouer-come by the worst. Then likewise that purer aire is trans­lated and changed into euill: whence proceede sodaine and continuall deaths, and monstrous sicknesses, as proceeding from new causes. The contagion con­tinueth more or lesse, according to the continuance and vehemencie of the earthquake, and ceaseth not vntill the spacious extent of the heauens, and the agitation of the windes hath dissipated those venemous vapours.

CHAP. XXIX.

A consideration of an other acci­dent a [...] touching some that haue become insensate and stupid in these earthquaks. IF a particular and slight feare maketh those that are attainted therewith to become senselesse, and to runne about like fooles and desperate men, wee neede not wonder, if at such time as the world hath had an alarum, and Cities haue beene sunke, whole peoples swallowed vp, and the earth shaken, that some haue been seene tormented with sadnesse and feare, destitute of consolation, and driuen out of their wits. It is no gasing matter to haue a good sence in prosperitie or aduersitie. And therefore the milder spirits haue beene attainted with such feare, that they haue swounded. There is no man affraid that hindreth not his health in some sort: and whosoeuer is attainted with feare, resembleth a mad man rather then any other, but some recouer themselues sodainly, other some remayne troubled a longer time, and are as it were transported. Thence com­meth it that during the warre time there are found so many fooles running a­bout the streets; and neuer meet we with so many diuines and sooth-sayers, as when feare intermixed with Religion, attaynteth and seizeth mens braines. I wonder not that during this earthquake, a statue was diuided into two parts, and that the earth it selfe was rent from the top to the bottome.

Some say that earst the furie of a storme,
(So much can age and tract of many yeares
Transforme those thinges beneath in sundrie sorts.)
Did separate two places, which at first
Were but one soyle. The Sea pusht forth her waues:
And head-long flouds by force surpassing measure,
Did rent the strong Sicilian shores perforce
From Italie and his faire Continent,
And seuered with a straight and floating streame,
The fields and Cities from their former bounds.

Thou seest that there is nothing permanent in the estates of Cities and Peoples, when as one part of nature is moued by it selfe, or that a violent winde agitateth some Sea. For the effert of the parts as well as of the whole is maruailous. For although it rageth in some parts, yet is it caused by the forces of the whole. So hath the Sea diuided and torne Spaine from Africa: and by the same inunda­tion, so much testified by the most famous Poets: Sicilie hath beene separated from Italie. But sometimes those things haue most violence which come from beneath, for that is most furious that inforceth his passage through streights: we haue sufficiently declared both of the effects of the earthquake, and of the maruailous euents that haue succeeded them.

CHAP. XXX.

How it may come to passe that a statue cleaueth in two by earthquake. WHy therefore should a man bee amazed for this cause, that the brasse of one statue, which is neither solide, but hollow and thin, is broken? when as happily the spirit that seeketh issue is inclu­ded in the same? But who is he that knoweth not this? wee haue seene houses tremble, and the ioynts and the timbers of the same [Page 881] open, and afterwards close againe; contrariwise we haue seene some buildings that were not wel grounded at the first, and which the Carpenters had carelesly ioyned together, which being agitated by an earthquake, haue vnited them­selues together in a better sort. And if it riueth in two, whole walls, and renteth wholehouses, and shaketh the walls of whole Towers which are solide, and o­uer-turneth the foundations of the building, who is he that can finde any mat­ter worthy of note, that a statue hath beene rent from the bottome to the top? But why continued the earthquake for diuers dayes? For Campania ceased not to tremble continually, Why the quaking continueth di­uers dayes. sometimes more mildly then at other times, but with great hurt: because the earthquake shiuered that which had beene ouer-turned and shaken, which finding no stay or resting place, fell, and broke it selfe an [...]w. All the winde had not as yet gotten issue, but had only deliuered ouer a part whilst the stronger part, that remayned, laboured to finde issue.

CHAP. XXXI.

AMongst those arguments whereby it is proued that these thinges are done by the winde: Why the first tremblings are almost the most violent. thou maiest without all doubt set downe this: when as there is a great earthquake past, whereby Cities and Countries are destroyed: there cannot an other follow the same that is equall with it, but after the greatest, the lighter motions follow, because the most violent haue giuen passage to those windes that en­countred one an other. The remainder of these windes cannot doe so much, and doe not beat one vpon another, because they haue their way alreadie ope­ned, and follow that way by which the greatest force is past. Moreouer I thinke that worthy memorie which a learned and honourable personage hath obser­ued, that being in the stoue to wash himselfe, hee vndoubtedly saw the paue­ments and stones, wherewith the house was paued, separate themselues the one from the other, and afterwards revnite themselues, and the water eating be­tweene the clefts, at such time as the tyles separared themselues one from an­other; boyled and foamed betweene them both, at such time as they closed themselues. I haue heard the same man report, that hee had seene soft things tremble more gently and oftner, then those of hard and solide nature.

CHAP. XXXII.

ANd thus much, my Lucillius, the best of men as touching the causes. What resolutions we are to g [...]ther from these earthquakes. Now come I to that which will fortifie our mindes, where it more concerneth to be confident then to bee learned. But the one is not done without the other. For resolution is no other­waies planted in the minde then by good arts, and the cont [...]m­plation of nature. For whom will not this accident fortifie and confirme against all others: why then should I feare a man or a sauage beast? I am exposed to far greater dangers. Wee are assailed by Riuers, by Lands, and by the greatest parts of nature: we ought therefore to prouoke death with a mightie courage, whether he inuade vs by an equall and vast assault, The principall is a resolute and assured con­tempt of death. or by a daily and ordinarie end: it makes no matter with what maske he be couered, nor how mightie the engine is that he draweth against vs, that which he demandeth at our handes is [Page 882] the least matter. This shall old age take from vs, this the paine of an eare, this the corrupt aboundance of humours in vs, this meate which the stomack can hardly dis-j [...]st; this a foot but slightly offended. The soule in man is but a small matter, but it is a mightie thing to contemne the soule. Hee that contemneth it shall with a quiet eye behold the enraged seas, although all the windes haue incensed the same, although the streame with some perturbation of the world, turne and arme all the Ocean against the earth. Hee shall securely behold the dreadful & horrid face of the lightning-heauen. Although the heauen breaketh it selfe, and mixeth his fires to ruine both himselfe, and all that is vnder him. He shall securely behold the yawning earth that riueth and renteth vnder him. Al­though those infernall Kingdomes should bee discouered, hee shall dreadlesse stand in the face of this confusion, and happily shall skip into the gulfe, into which he should fall. What care I how great the meanes be, by which I perish? when as to perish is no great matter? if therefore we will be happy, if we would not be vexed by the feare of men, of gods, or any things: if wee would despise fortune that promiseth vs vnnecessary things, and threatneth vs with trifles, if we will liue quietly, and debate for felicitie with the gods themselues, we must carrie our soules in our hands: whether it bee that ambushes would entrap, or sicknesse assaile, or the enemies sword threaten, or the noise of falling Islands, or the ruine of the earth, or these great fires that consume Cities & Countries doe inuiron her, she will lay hold on, which soeuer of these dangers she listeth: what else should I doe but exhort her in her departure, and to send her away with all her goods? Goe forth couragiously, goe happily. Thinke it not strange to re­store that which thou hast receiued. The question is not now of the things, but of the time. Thou doest that which thou oughtest to doe at an other time: nei­ther desire thou death, neither feare it, beware thou step not back as if thou wert to depart into some place of [...]uil: Nature that made thee, exspecteth thee, and a place farre better and secure. There the earth trembleth not, neither the windes combate one with an other, and burst the clouds with thundring noise, nor fire desolateth whole Countries and Cities, nor the feare of whole Nauies sucked vp by shipwrack, nor Armies ready to giue battell, nor a multitude of Souldiers running in furie to murther one another, nor the plague, nor fires kindled here and there, to burne the bodies both of great and small, into ashes. This is but a small matter: what feare we? Is death a grieuous matter? rather let it happen once, then threaten alwaies. Shall I be affraid to perish, when as the earth perisheth before me, and those things are shaken which shake others, and attempting to doe vs mischiefe, offence themselues? The sea hath swal­lowed vp Helice and Buris wholly: shall I be affraid for one little body? Ships saile ouer two Cities, yea two such as wee knew, which are reserued in our re­membrance, by the meanes of that discourse which hath beene published of them. How many other Cities, in great number, haue beene swallowed vp in other places? Miserable [...]ffects caused by the ouer-great ap­prehension of death. how many Nations hath either the earth or sea deuoured. Shall I refuse mine end, when as I know that I am not without end? yea when I know that all things are finite: shall I feare the last breath or sigh. As much as thou canst ther [...]fore, my Lucillius, animate thy selfe against the feare of death. This is he that maketh vs humble, this is he that disquieteth and confoundeth that ve­ry life which he spareth. This is hee that maketh these earthquakes and light­nings greater then they bee. All which thou wilt endure constantly, if thou thinke that there is no difference betwixt a short and long time. They are hours which we loose: put case they be dayes, moneths, yeares; wee loose them be­cause [Page 883] they must be lost. What importeth it, I pray you, whether I attayne to such a yeare or no? The time fleeteth away, abandoning those that desire it so much: neither is that mine that either is to come or hath beene. I hang vpon the point of flying Time, and it is a great matter that it hath beene but a very moment. The wiseman Laelius answered very elegantly to a certaine man, that said, I haue sixtie yeares of age; speakest thou (saith hee) of these sixtie which thou hast not? neither hereby vnderstand we the condition of incomprehensi­ble life, nor the chance of time which is neuer our owne, because wee make accompt of the yeares that are past. Let vs fixe this in our mindes, and let vs o [...]tentimes say one vnto an other, we must die: when? what carest thou? Death is the law of nature; Death the tribute and office of mortall men, and the remedie of all euils; whosoeuer feareth it will wish for it. Setting aside all oth [...]r things, my Lucillius, meditate on this only, least thou waxe afraid of the name of Death; make him fami­liar with thee by continuall me­ditation, that if the cause re­quire thou maist step forth and meet it.

The End of the sixth Booke of the Naturall Questions.

OF NATVRALL QVESTIONS, WRITTEN BY LVCIVS ANNAEVS SENECA; DEDICATED TO LVCILLIVS The seuenth Booke. Wherein He intreateth of Comets.

CHAP. I.

THere is no man so slow, dul, and brutish, that li [...]teth not his thoughts to behold diuine things, Nouelty rauish­eth vs, ordinary matters are con­temptible vnto vs. and fix­eth not his whole minde vpon them, especially when as some new miracle appeareth in the hea­uens. For as long as nothing appeareth but that which is ordinarie, custom taketh away the great­nesse of things. For wee are so composed, that those things which we daily meete withall, passe by, although they be worthy of admiration: con­trariwise, we take a singular pleasure to beholde the smallest trifles, if they haue any noueltie in them. This assembly therefore of starres, whereby the beauty of this immea­surable body is distinguished, inuiteth not the people to beholde them; but when as any thing is changed in some extraordinary manner, all mens eyes are fixed on heauen: no man gaseth at the Sunne except it be in the eclipse: no man obserueth the Moone except she be darkened. Then whole Cities crie out, and euery one being transported thorow vaine superstition, feareth in his owne be­halfe. But how farre greater things are those, that the Sunne (if I may so speak it) hath as many degrees as it hath dayes, and firmeth the yeare by his course? that from the solstice he presently inclineth and giueth space vnto the nights, that he hideth the stars, that he burneth not the earth being farre more greater then the same, but nourisheth it by temperating his heate, by intentions and re­missions, [Page 886] that he neuer filleth or obscureth the Moone but when she is opposite vnto him; yet respect we not these things as long as they continue in their or­der. If any thing be troubled or appeare contrary to custome, we behold it, we inquire of it, we shew it: so naturall a thing is it to admire at the newnesse, and not at the greatnesse of things. The application of this curiositie to the considera­tion of Comets The same falleth out in Comets: if a rare fire appeare, and of an vnaccustomed figure there is no man that is not desirous to know what it is, and forgetting all other things he questioneth vpon this new accident, not knowing whether he ought to admire or feare. For many there are that will enkindle feare in other men, and walke about and presage that this fire threatneth some great mischiefe. They enquire therefore, and would needs know whether it be a prodigie or some starre in the heauen. The modest s [...]rch & examination of these fires is laudable. B [...]t truely no man may eyther search after a thing more magnificent, nor learne a thing more pro­fitable, then what the nature of the stars and planets is. Whether this contra­cted flame, which both our sight doth affirme, and that light which floweth from them, and that heat that descendeth from thence; or whether they are not flaming Orbes, but certaine solid and earthly bodies, which sliding thorow fierie tracts, draw their brightnesse and colour from them, not being cleere of themselues. Of which opinion many great men were, who beleeued that the stars were compact of a solid substance, and were nourished by forrain fire: for their flame, say they, would flie away except it had something that restrained it, and detained it, and being gathered and not vnited to a stable bodie, vndoubt­edly the world by his storminesse had dissipated it.

CHAP. II.

If Comets are of the same con­dition as other s [...]ars. FOr the better inuestigation hereof, it shall not be amisse to enquire whether Comets are of the same condition as the stars are. For they seeme to haue something common with them, their rising and setting, their resemblance likewise, although they spread and stretch themselues out longer: for they are as fierie and bright as the other. But if all starres were terrestriall exhalations, the Comets and starres should be alike: but if they be nought else but pure fire, and continue sixe mo­neths; neyther the continuall turning and swiftnesse of the heauen dissolueth them, they likewise may consist of a thin matter, neyther for all this be dissipa­ted by the continuall course of heauen. To this point it appertaineth also to know if the heauen turneth the earth continuing fixed, or if the heauen is vn­moueable, and the earth turneth. For some there were that haue said that it is we whom nature insensibly turneth about, A Paradox of the m [...]t [...]on and turning of the earth about the heauens, reu [...]ed in ou [...] t [...]m [...] by Copernicus. and that the rising and setting is not by the motion of the heauens, but that they rise and set. It is a thing worthy contemplation to know in what estate we are, if the place wherein we abide be fixed or turned, whether God causeth vs to turne, or causeth all things to turne about vs; but it is necessary for vs to haue a collection and knowledge of the auncient rising of Comets: for as yet their courses cannot be comprehended, by reason of their raritie, neyther can it be sought out whether they obserue their courses, and some due order produceth them to their certaine day. This obseruation of celestiall things is a nouelti [...], and but lately brought into Greece.

CHAP. III.

DEMOCRITVS also the most subtlest amongst all the ancient Phi­losophers saith, The ancient na­turall Philoso­phers seemed o­uer curious in obseruing comets that he suspecteth that there are diuers starres that runne, but neyther hath he set downe their number, nor their names, for as yet had he not comprehended the courses of the fiue Planets. Endoxus was the first that brought the doctrine of these motions out of Egypt into Greece, yet speakes he nothing of Comets; whereby it appeareth that this part had not beene sufficiently laboured and sought into by the Egyptians, who had been the most curious obseruers of the heauens. After him Conon a diligent enquirer after these things, likewise gathe­red that these eclipses of the Sunne were obserued by the Egyptians: yet made he no mention of Comets, which he would not haue forgotten, if they had any waies made mention or giuen knowledge of them. Two onely amongst the Caldees, who are reported to haue studied this science, Epigenes and Apollonius Myndius a most cunning obseruer of the works of nature, differ amongst them­selues: for the one saith that Comets by the Caldees are put amongst the num­ber of wandering starres, and that their courses are well knowne. But Epigenes contrariwise saith that the Caldees haue no assured knowledge of Comets, but that in their iudgements they are kindled by some storme that is agitated and stirred in the ayre.

CHAP. IIII.

IF first therefore thou thinkest it meete, Epigenes opi­nion as touching the meteors of fire. we will set downe their o­pinions and refell them: This man thinkes that the starre of Sa­turne hath the most force vnto all the celestiall motions. This when as she presseth the neighbouring signe of Mars, or that she passeth into those that haue a vicinity with the Moone, or falleth into the beames of the Sunne, being by nature windie and colde, she closeth and thickneth the ayre in diuers parts. Afterwards, if she hath gathered into her selfe the beames of the Sunne, it thundereth and lightneth. If Mars fauoureth her likewise, it lightneth. Besides (saith he) the lightnings haue one matter, and the fulgurations another; for the euaporation of the water, and all other things which are moist, doth nought else but moue the lightnings, which doe nought else but moue threatnings; neyther succeedeth there any other euill. But the exhalation that mounteth from the earth, as being more hot and more drie produceth lightnings. But those beames and Torches which differ in no other thing amongs [...] themselues but in greatnesse, are made after this manner: when as some globe of the ayre hath inclosed moyst and earthly things in that which we call a [...]torme; whithersoeuer it is carried it presenteth the forme of an ex­tended fire, which continueth so long as the complexion of that ayre hath remained, carrying in it selfe much moyst and earthly matter.

CHAP. V.

An examination and distinct re­sutation of those opinions. TO begin with the last lies: this is false that Torches and fierie beames are expressed by a storm: for a storme is formed, and row­leth neere vnto the earth; and therefore it pulleth vp shrubs by the roots, and wheresoeuer it inclineth, it maketh the ground na­ked, laying holde in the meane space on woods and houses, for the most part lower then the clouds, and yet neuer higher. But contrariwise, the pillars appeare in the highest region of the ayre, and consequently they haue neuer resisted the clouds. Furthermore, a storme presseth forward more violent­ly beyond comparison aboue any other cloude, and fulfilleth his course in a round. It likewise continueth not long time, but bursteth it selfe by his owne violence. But pillars of fire neyther rome, nor flie ouer as Torches doe, but a­bide in one place, and shine in the same part of the heauen. Charimander also in that booke which he wrote of Comets, saith, that Anaxagoras obserued in the heauens a great and vnaccustomed light of the greatnesse of a huge pillar, and that it shined for many dayes. Calisthenes testifieth that there appeared the like resemblance of extended fire, before that Buris or Helice were hidden by the sea. A [...]istotle saith, that it was not a beame but a comet; but that by reason of the ex­cessiue heate it appeared not to be scattered fire, but in processe of time, when as now it burned lesse, it presented it selfe in the forme of a Comet: in which fire there were many things that were worthy to be noted, and yet nothing more then this, that when it shined in the heauens, the Sea presently ouerflowed Bu­ris and Helice. Did not therfore Aristotle beleeue, that not only that, but al other beames were Comets? This difference haue you, that in the one the fire was continuall, in the other scattered: for pillars haue an equall flame, neyther in­termitted or failing in any place, and coacted in the vttermost parts thereof, such as that was whereof I spake of late, according to Calisthenes opinion.

CHAP. VI.

Two sorts of Co­me [...]s according t [...] Epigenes, and of their causes. EPIGENES saith there are two sorts of Comets; the one on euery side powre forth their heat, and change not their place; others extend their scattered fire in one place like haire, and tra­uerse the stars, where two such haue appeared in our time. These former are crinite, and euery wayes likewise immoueable, yet are they for the most part lower, & composed of the same causes, as pillars and tor­ches are from the intemperature of the troubled ayre, which carries with it self many moist and drie exhalations that are raised from the earth. For the winde that slides thorow these straits may inflame the ayre aboue, ful of nutriment, fit for fire, and afterwards driue it backeward from the place where it is calmest, for feare lest through some cause it should returne and grow fain [...], and anon after should come to raise it selfe, and enkindle the fire where it was. For we see that the winds after some certain daies, return vnto the same place whence they first issued. The raines also, and other kindes of tempests, returne vnto their point and assignation. But to expresse his intent in a few wordes, he thinketh that Comets are made in the same sort, as fires that are cast out by stormes; this on­ly is the difference, that the stormes fall from on high vpon the earth, and these fires raise themselues from the earth vnto the heauens.

CHAP. VII.

MAnie things are spoken against these; The winde is no cause of Comets, a [...] Epigenes thinketh. first, if the winde were the cause, a Comet [...]hould neuer appeare without winde, but now it appeareth euen in the calmest ayre. Againe, if it were caused by winde, it should fall with the winde: and if it beganne with the winde it should increase with the winde, and [...]he more fiery should it be, the more violent the winde was. To this adde that likewise: The winde impelleth many parts of the ayre; but a Comet appeareth in one place: the winde mounteth not vp on high; but Comets are seene very high aboue the windes. After this he passeth ouer to those, which a [...] he saith, haue a more certaine resemblance of stars, which goe forward, and passe the signes in the Zodiaque. These, saith he, are made of the same causes as the other that are lower: in this onely they differ, that the exhalations of the earth, carrying many drie things with them, ascend to the higher part, and by the North wind are driuen into the vpper part of heauen. Againe, if the North winde did driue them, they should be alwayes driuen to the Southward, against which the North winde bloweth. But they haue diuers stations, some goe towards the East, some towards the West, and all in turning, which way the winde would not giue. Againe, if the violence of the North winde, lifted them vp from the earth vnto the heauens, Comets should not rise with any other windes; but they rise.

CHAP. VIII.

BVt now let vs refell that reason of his (for he vseth them both). All that which the earth hath exhaled, Stormes are not the cause of Comets. eyther drie or moyst, comming to ioyne in one, the discord that happeneth betweene these bodies, maketh the ayre become stormie. The vehemen­cie then of that turning winde enkindleth by his course, and ray­seth vp on high, that which it holdeth inclosed in it selfe, and the brightnesse of the fire that is inclosed dureth as long time as the exhalation, whereby he is en­tertained, which beginning to decrease, the fire decreaseth likewise. He that said this, considered not what the course of storms & Comets is. That of storms is headlong and violent, and swifter then the winds: that of the Comets is more milde, and no man can discouer what way they make in foure and twenty ho­wers. Furthermore, the motion of [...]tormes is inconstant, scattered, and turning: that of Comets is certain, and keepeth one setled course. Would any one of vs thinke that the winde carrieth away, or that the storme causeth the Moone to turne, or else the fiue wandering stars? Nothing lesse in my iudgement. And why? Because their course is neyther troubled nor suspended. Let vs transferre the same vnto Comets. They moue not confusedly or tumultuosly, so as any man should beleeue that they are impelled by turbulent and inconstant causes. And again, althogh these storms might embrace the exhalations of earth & wa­ter [...] & afterwards lift them vp from beneath vpwards [...] yet should they not make them mount aboue the Moone. All their carriage extendeth no farther then the clouds. But we see that comets are intermixed with the stars, & slide along the superior parts. It is not therfore likely, that in so great space a storm of winde may continue, the which as it is most violent, the sooner takes it an end.

CHAP. IX.

The continuation of the refutation contayned in the former chapter. LEt him choose which of these two he li [...]t: if it be a light storme it cannot discend from so high, if it be a violent and sudden storme, it will break it selfe the sooner. Moreouer, these lower comets mount not so high as some think, by reason that they haue more waighty matter then the rest. This waight hindreth them from mounting. Contrariwise, it must necessarily follow that the comets that are highest, and are of longest continuance haue a matter more solid then the lower. They like­wise could not continue longer except some more stronger nutriment maintai­ned them. I said not long since that a storme could not endure long, nor raise it selfe aboue the Moone, nor as far as the stars: for a storme is raised by a conflict of diuers windes one with another. This conflict cannot be of long continu­ance: for an vncertaine winde hauing strugled with the rest, finally, the victory remaineth to that whi [...]h is the strongest. But no violent tempest lasteth long. The more headlong the tempests are, the lesse time and continuance haue they: when the windes are in their full force, they incontinently begin to decline, and it must needs be that by their more earnest vigor they should tend to their dis­solution. So then no man euer saw a strong storme of winde continue longer then foure and twentie houres, no not an houre. The swiftnesse thereof is won­derfull, and no lesse wo [...]derfull is the shortnesse. Besides this, he turneth with more greater violence and swiftnesse about the earth: if it be high, it is lesse headlong, by reason whereof it spreadeth it selfe. Adde hereunto now, that if it raised it selfe aboue the regions of the ayre, towards the heauens and stars, the motion of them, which whirleth about the whole frame would dissolue and dissipate the same: for what is it that turneth more swiftly then the motion of heauen? When the force of all the winds should be assembled together, and the solid and firme structure of the earth likewise, this motion could dissipate all that, and consequently in lesse then nothing, should make that parcell of in­torted and confused aire to vanish.

CHAP. X.

He continu [...]h his proo [...]e, that stormes o [...] the ayre cannot be the cause o [...] th [...] enkindling of Com [...]ts. FVrthermore, the fire carried vp by the storme could not continue long, if the storme continued not likewise: but what is more in­credible then that a storme should last long? For one motion is ouercome by his contrary motion: for the place aboue the ayres hath his motion that carrieth the heauens.

And drawes the higher starres with swifter turne,
And whirles them round about.

And if thou grant them some remission, which can hardly be done in any sort, what shall we say of comets that continue sixe moneths? Againe, there should be two motions in one place, the one of them diuine and continual, accomplish­ing his work without intermission, the other fresh & new, being shaken by the storme. Of necessitie therfore, the one must be an impediment to the other. But the motion of the Moone & the course of the other Planets, which are aboue, alwaies obserue their time, neither stop they [...]uer, or stay they, nor giueth vs [Page 891] any suspition of intermission or let in their motion. It is an incredible thing that a storme (which is a kinde of tempest extremely violent and impetuous) should mount as high as mid-heauen, and whirle it selfe amongst the spheares, whose course is so peaceable and gouerned, Put case that a storme enkindleth a fire, and driueth it vp on high, or that it [...]ppeareth in a longer forme, yet think I that it must be such as that is which causeth the fire. But the forme of a storme is round, for it turneth in the same place, and is whirled about, after the manner of a cylinder that turneth and rouleth in it selfe: therefore the fire that is inclosed therein must be like vnto the same. But it is long and scattered, and no wayes like vnto that which is round.

CHAP. XI.

LEt vs leaue Epigenes, & examin other mens opinions, which before I begin to expound, Comets appear [...] in diuers part [...] of heauen. this is first of all to be presupposed, that Co­mets are not seen in one part of the heauen, nor in the Zodiak on­ly, but appeare as well in the East as in the West, yea, and oft-times about the North. Their forme is not one; for although the Grecians haue made a difference of those whose flame hangeth downe after the manner of a beard, and of those which on euery side of them spread their light as it were haire, and of those whose fire extendeth and poureth it selfe out, but tendeth towards a head; yet are all these of the same note, and are rightly called Comets, whose formes when as they appeare after a long time, it is a hard mat­ter to compare them one with another. At that very time when they appeare, all those that beholde them are not of the same opinion in respect of their habi­tude, but euen as each of them hath eyther a sharper or a duller sight; Their qualitie is iudged by the obscuritie or clearenesse of our sight. so saith he that they are eyther cleerer or redder, or that their haires are drawn inward­ly or scattered on the sides. But whether there be any differences of them or no, yet must Comets be made by the same reason. One thing must remaine re­solued, that it is an extraordinary thing to see a new appearance of stars, that draw about themselues a scattered fire. Some one of the ancients allow of this reason, when as one of the wandring stars adioyneth it selfe to another, both their lights being confused into one, make an appearance of a longer star: ney­ther doth this happen onely at such time as one Planet toucheth another, but also when they approach, for the space betweene them both is enlightned and inflamed both by the one and the other, and maketh a long fire.

CHAP. XII.

TO these we will answer thus; An answer vnto those that thinke that Comets are formed by the approach and in­country of two Planets. that there is a certaine number of moueable stars, and that at one time both they and Comets are wont to appeare; whereby it is manifest, that Comets are not caused by their coition and meeting, but are created of them­selues. It oft-times hapneth that a star is found right vnderneath one of those which is highest, and somtimes Saturne is aboue Iupiter, and Mars beholdeth in a right line both Venus and Mercurie. But for all this course and incountry the one with the other, a Comet is not therefore made, otherwise they should be made euery yeare, for in euery yeare some stars meete together [Page 892] in one signe, if one Planet drawing neere or aboue another, did make a comet, it should cease to be in the same instant, for the Planets passe suddenly. And ther­fore is it, that the eclipse of the Planets dureth not long time, because the same course that brought them together carrieth them away swiftly. We see that in a very little space of time the eclipses both of Sunne and Moone take an end. Those of the other Planets likewise which are lesse, ought likewise to continue lesse. But there are certaine comets that endure sixe moneths, which would not come to passe, if they were produced by coniunction of two planets, which can­not long time subsist together; but that the lawe of necessitie must needes separate them. Besides, these planets seeme neere neighbours one vnto another, yet are they separated by huge distances. How then may one planet dart out fire vnto another, in such sort as both of them seeme but one, when as there is so great a distance betweene them? The light (saith he) of two stars is intermixed, and present a forme of one: in no other sort then when as by meeting with the Sunne, a cloud becommeth red, as the euenings and the mornings are yellow, and as sometimes or other we see the Arch of the Sunne. All these first of all are caused by great force: for it is the Sun that enkindleth these, the stars haue not the same power. Againe, none of these appeare but vnder the Moone, and neere vnto the earth. The superior bodies are pure and sincere, & neuer change their colour. Besides, if any such thing should happen it should not endure, but should be extinguished suddenly, as crownes are which begirt the Sunne or Moone, and vanish a little while after: neyther doth the Raine-bow continue long if any such thing were, wherby the middle space between two stars should be confused, they would as soone vanish out of sight, or if it continued it should not be so long as the comets endure. The planets shape their course in the cir­cle of the Zodiacke, but the comets appeare in all the parts of the heauen. As touching the time of their apparition, it is no more certaine then the place wherein they are confined.

CHAP. XIII.

THis is alleged by Artemidorus against that which is said before, that not onely the fiue stars do run, An instance of Artemidorus to maintaine his opinion, and the answ [...]r to the sam [...]. but that they are obserued alone, yet that innumerable starres, that are carried in secret, eyther vn­knowne vnto vs by reason of the obscuritie of their light, or by reason of such a position of their circles, that then at length they are seene when they are come to their period or end. Therfore, as he saith, some stars run between, which are new vnto vs, which intermix their light with those that are fixed, and extend their fire far mort then other stars are accustomed: this is the slightest of his fictions, for all his discourses of the world are impudent lies: for if we beleeue him, the heauen that we see is most solid, and hardned af­ter the manner of a tyle, and of a deepe and thicke bodie, which was made of Atomes congested and gathered together. The next surface vnto this is fiery, so compact that it neither can be dissolued or vitiated, yet hath it som vents and windows, by which the fires enter from the exterior part of the heauen, which are not so large that they may trouble it inwardly, whence again they steale and slip forth. These therefore which appeared contrarie to custome, flowed and had their influence from that matter, that lay on each side of the world. To answer these questions, what other thing is it, then to exercise the hand, and to cast a mans armes into the winde?

CHAP. XIIII.

YEt would I haue this man tell me who hath laid such thicke plan­chars on the heauen, An exact refu­tation of Arte­midorus hi [...] Paradoxes. what reason there is that we should beleeu [...] him that the heauen is of this thicknesse. What is the cause he should cary so many solid bodies thither, and detaine them there? Againe, that which is of so great thicknesse, must needs be of a great waight. How therefore may heauie things remaine suspended in the hea­uens. How commeth it to passe that this heauie burthen faileth not, and brea­keth not himselfe through his waight? For it cannot be that the force of so great a burthen, as he setteth downe, should hang and depend on so slight staies. Neither can this likewise be spoken, that outwardly there are some supporters that vphold it from falling; nor likewise that in the middest there is any thing opposed, that might entertaine or containe such an impendent bodie. No man likewise dare be so bold as to say that the world is carried and whirled about infinitly, and that it falleth, but that it appeareth not whether it fall or no, be­cause the precipitation thereof is eternall, hauing no end wherein it may ter­minate. Some haue spoken thus of the earth, Another Para­dox inclosed in diuers absurdi­ties. when as they had found no rea­son why a waight should consist in the aire; It is alwayes falling say they, but it appeareth not whether it fall or no, because, that is infinite into which it fal­leth. What is it then, whereby thou wilt proue that only fiue starres moue not, but that there are many, and in many regions of the world? Or if it be law­full to answere this without any probable argument. What is the cause why some man should not say, that either all the stars are moued or none? Againe, that troope of stars that wander heere and there, helpe thee nothing. For the more they be, the oftner should they fall vpon others: but comets are rare, and for this cause are wonderfull. Moreouer, all ages will beare testimony against them, which haue both obserued the rising of those stars, and haue communi­cated them with posteritie.

CHAP. XV.

AFter the death of Demetrius King of Syria, the father of Demetrius and Antiochus, Examples to ap­proue t [...]t one Comet cannot be made of diuers wandering stars. and a little before the warre in Achaia, there ap­peared a comet almost as great as the Sun. In the beginning it was a circle of red fire, sparkling with so great light, that it surmoun­ted the obscuritie of the night. Afterwards this greatnesse began to diminish, and the brightnesse thereof to vanish. Finally, the Comet was wholly spent. How many wandering starres, thinke you, should haue beene ioyned together to make so great a bodie? Although a thousand had beene re­duced into one Masse, yet could they not reflect so much light as the Sun doth. During the raigne of Attalus a Comet was seene, which in the beginning was but little, but afterwards it encreased, and extended, and lengthened out it selfe as farre as the AEquator, in such sort as it equalled (so long was the extent there­of) that part of the heauen which the Astronomers call the Milke-white way. How many wandering starres should there haue beene gotten together, to oc­cupie with a continuall fire so long a tract of heauen?

CHAP. XVI.

The shamelesse error aod absur­ditie of some Hi­storians, taxed, and namely of Artemidorus. WE haue spoken against the argument, now must we say somewhat against the witnesses: we need not labour much to empouerish the authoritie of Ephirus, he is an Historian. Some men get com­mendation by relating of incredible matters, and excite the Rea­der by some miracle, who would doe some other thing else, if he were but entertained by ordinarie matters. Some are credulous, and some neg­ligent, some are circumuented, Against Histori­ans in title, and liers in effect. and some pleased with lies: the one auoid them not, the other desire them. And this is common of the whole Nation, which as he thinketh cannot approue his worke; neither that it will be passable and vendible, except it hath some aspersion of lies. But Ephirus, a man of no religi­ous honestie or faith, is oft-times deceiued, and oftentimes deceiueth: as in this place, because when as in this Comet, which all the world obserued, drew after it the euent of a mightie matter, when as vpon the rising therof it drowned He­lice and Buris, hee saith that it diuided it selfe into two starres, which besides himselfe no man testifieth. For who is he that could obserue that moment, wherein the Comet was dissolued, and diuided into two parts? And how if there be any man that hath seene a Comet diuided into two, is there no man that hath seene it made of two? And why added he not into what starres it was diuided, whereas it must needs be some one of the fiue Planets.

CHAP. XVII.

The examinati­on of Apollo­nius Paradox, that there are many wandring Comets. APOLLONIVS MINDIVS is of a contrary opinion, for he saith that a Comet is not made one out of diuers erraticall starres, but that many Comets are erraticall. It is not a false appearance, nor an ex­tended fire, by the vicinitie of two Planets, that maketh a Comet: her forme is not restrained in a round, but more high, and exten­ded in length: yet hath it no manifest course, for it trauerseth the highest part of heauen, and when as she is at the lowest of her course, she is not seene. Nei­ther are we to thinke that we saw the same in Claudius time, which appeared in Augustus dayes, nor that which appeared vnder Nero Caesar, which hath eno­bled all the rest; was like vnto that which appeared about the eleuenth houre of the day, when as men celebrated the sports of mother Venus, after Iulius Cae­sar had beene murthered. There are diuers Comets of diuers sorts, of different greatnes and dislike in colour: the one are red, without any clearenes, the other white, and of a pure and cleare brightnesse, the other flaming obscurely, and en­uironed with thicke smoake. Some are bloudie, hideous, which presage nothing else but murthers and massacres. These either lessen or encrease their light, as other celestiall fires doe in descending and approching more neere vnto vs, they show more cleare and more great: lesse and more obscure in remounting, be­cause they withdraw themselues further off.

CHAP. XVIII.

HEreunto we forth with answere, A difference be­tweene Comets and other celesti­all fires. that the same falleth not out in Comets, that happeneth in other Celestiall fires. For Comets, the very first day they appeare are at the greatest. But they should encrease the neerer they draw vnto vs: but now their first appearance continueth vntill such time as they begin to bee extinguished. Againe, that which was answered to the first, may be answered to this man likewise: if a Comet were a Planet, and had his course, it should be moued within the bounds of the Zodiake, in which all other Planets shape their course. For neuer doth a star appeare by a star. Our sight cannot penetrate tho­row a starre, to see thorow it, what is vnder it. But men see thorow a comet, as thorow a cloud, that which is vnderneath, whereby it appeareth that it is not a star, but a light fire that is gathered in hast.

CHAP. XIX.

ZENO the Stoique is of this opinion, Zenoes opinion according with Apollonius. supposing that the starres doe ranke themselues, the one of them neere vnto the other, and inter­mix their beames, where there followeth an appearance of a long star. By this reckoning diuers thinke that there are no comets, but that by reuerberation of the stars, which are one of them neere vn­to the other, or by the coniunction of them that entertaine one another that is caused, which hath such or such appearance of a comet. Some maintaine that there are [...] but that they haue their particular courses, and at the end of certaine yeares they appeare. Some other accord also that there are; but deny that they ought to be called starres, because they diminish by little and little, and conti­nue not long, and vanish, as it were, in an instant.

CHAP. XX.

DIuers of our coat and sort are of the same opinion, Senecaes opi­nion hereupon. neither thinke they that it repugneth against the truth: for we see diuers sorts of fires that are formed in the aire, and sometimes the heauen on fire, sometimes long streames of flame, then burning torches carried a­way swiftly, with a large fire: the lightnings also, although mar­vellously sudden, in an instant dazle the eyes, and leaue there fires proceeding from the aire, that is crushed and violently beaten together. Therefore resist they not, but being expressed, flow, and forthwith perish. Other fires continue long, and vanish not, except first of all that aliment that nourished them be con­sumed. In this ranke are those miracles that are written by Possidonius, burning pillars and bucklers, and other fierie impressions, notable by reason of their noueltie, which would not astonish mens minds, if they appeared according to custome and nature. All men are amased that behold these, and be it that any fire either shine or shoot, be it that pressing the aire, and by setting it on fire, it subsisteth, and is reputed for some noueltie, euery one gazeth thereat, and sup­poseth it to be miraculous. What then? Hath not the heauen sometimes ope­ned, [Page 896] and a great clearenesse hath broken forth of the cauitie. Thou mightest exclaime: What is this?

I see the heauen depart it selfe in twaine
And scattered starres from thence shine forth againe.

Which sometimes haue shined before the night was expected, and haue broken forth at mid-day, but there is another reason hereof, why they appeare at an vnusuall time, which that they were, it is manifest euen then, when they were hidden. We see not many comets that are obscured by the Sunne-beames, in whose Eclipse, as Possidonius testifieth, there appeared a Comet, which the neighbouring Sunne had hidden. For oftentimes when the Sunne setteth, there are certaine scattered fires seene not farre of him: the cause is, because the grea­ter light is spred in such sort ouer the lesser, that it may not be seene: But Co­mets escape the Sunne-beames.

CHAP. XXI.

That which the Stoiques teac [...], as touching Co­mets. SO then the Stoickes hold that the Comets, such as are torches, trumpets, pillars, and other such wonders in the heauen are crea­ted of thicke aire. And therefore appeare they most often in the North, because in that place there is found much waightie aire. Why then is not a Comet fixed, but goeth forward? After the manner of fires, it followeth that which nourisheth it. For although by nature he inclineth vpwards, yet when it wanteth matter, it declineth into that aire, according as the matter thereof tendeth or bendeth it, either to the right or left part. For it hath no way, but such as the vaine of that which nourisheth it leadeth it, thither creepeth it; neither shapeth she her course as a starre, but is fed as fire is. Why then appeareth it a long time, and is not quickly extinguish­ed? For that we beheld vnder the happie gouernmet of Nero, was seene for the space of six moneths, shaping a course altogether opposite to that which appea­red in the time of Claudius. Of two Comets that appeared in the time of Claudius and Nero. For that rising from the North vpwards, declined to­wards the East, alwaies more obscure. This began in the same part, but bending towards the West, declined towards the Southward, and then vanished out of sight. That in Claudius time had a quarter more moist, and more fit for inflama­tion, which she followed. That in Neroes time had a more spacious and fur­nished extent. They therefore descend thither, whither the matter that main­taineth them draweth them, and not their way: which appeareth to be diuers in those two which we beheld, whereas the one moued toward the right hand, the other towards the left. But all starres haue their course in the same part, that is to say, contrarie to that of the heauens, which turneth from the East to the West, and the starres quite contrarie: they haue therefore a double motion, that of their owne, and that of the heauens, that carrieth them.

CHAP. XXII.

I Am not of the Stoiques opinion, The examinati­on o [...] the Stoicks opinio [...]. for I think not that a comet is a sudden [...]ire, but that it i [...] to be r [...]puted [...]mongst one of the eternal workes of Nature. First of all [...] whatsoeuer the aire createth, are of short continuance, because they are made of a fleeting and muta­ble subiect. For how can any thing subsist long time in the same sort in the aire, when as the aire it selfe neuer remaineth like it selfe? It doth no­thing but turn and flow, and hath ve [...]y lit [...]le rest. In a moments space it is chan­ged into another state then it was in before: now is it faire, now rayny, then in­constant betweene both, for clouds are familiar with it [...] into which he gathereth himself, and from which hee is dissolued, which now ass [...]mble themselues, sud­denly scatter, and neuer continue at rest. It cannot be that a setled [...]ire should take his situation in a body so fleeting, and should clea [...]e vnto it so obstinatly, as if nature had so appropriated it, that it should neuer be seperated from it. More­ouer, if it alwayes remained annexed to [...]hat which en [...]rtaineth the same, it should neuer descend: for the neerer the aire approcheth to the earth the thic­ker it is, and neuer doth a comet descend as far as the lower re [...]on of the aire [...] neither approcheth so neere vnto the earth. The fire likewise mounteth thither, whither his nature carieth him, that is to say, on high, or thither, whither the matter to which it cleaueth, or that it feedeth, draweth him.

CHAP. XXIII.

NO ordinary and celestiall fires haue an oblike way. The difference betweene starres and Comets. Circular moti­on is the property of the stars, yet know I not whether any other comets haue done th [...] like [...] tw [...] in our age haue don [...] that which is kindled by a temporall cause is quickly [...]. So doe torches burne in passing by, so lig [...]nings [...] force for a flash, so those stars that are called transuerse and falling, [...] cut the aire; no fires haue continuance but in their owne fire. Those diuine [...]tars speake I of, which shall continue as long as the heauen it selfe, because they are parts and the workmanship there [...]f. But these do something, they go, they in­fallibly follow their courses, and are equall. For they should euery other day be­come greater or lesse (if there fire were gathered and collected) sodainly enkind­led vpon some cause: for it should be lesser or greater, accordingly as it should be abundantly or sparingly entertained. I said of l [...]te that there is nothing con­tinuall which is inflamed by the corrup [...]ion of the aire [...] now adde I further, That which is enflamed by the corruption of the aire cannot subsist. it neither can abide or stand by any meanes. For both a torch, and lightning, and a shooting star; and whatsoeuer fire is expressed by the aire, stayeth not in a place, neither appeareth but whilest it fa [...]leth. The comet hath her siege, whence she is not so soone chased, but shee finisheth her course in measure, and is not extin­guished suddenly, but vadeth by little and little: if it were a wandering starre, saith he [...] it should be in the Zodiake. Who se [...]h one limit for the stars? Seneca seemeth to encline in some sort to this opinion, that a Comet is some kind of wande­ring starre. Who driueth diuine things into a strait? The Plane [...]s which thou only thinkest haue motion, haue diuers circles. Why therefore should there not be others, which might haue a way proper & peculiar from that of the Planets? what is the cause that the heauē is vnaccessible in some place? If thou thinkest that no Planet may passe the Zodiake, I say that a comet may haue his circle so large, that in so [...]e place he may enter into the Zodiaque. This is not necessarie, but it may be.

CHAP. XXIIII.

The reasons that moue him to produce this Paradox. COnsider whether this becommeth not the greatnesse of heauen b [...]tter that it bee diuided into seuerall courses, then to imagine one only circle wherein all the Planets haue their course, and that the rest remayne vnprofitable and idle. Beleeuest thou that in this so great and [...]aire body, amongst innumerable starres, which by their diuers beautie adorne and distinguish the night, nor suffering the ayre to remayne vo [...]de and improfitable, that there should be but only fiue starres, to whom it should be lawfull to exercise themselues, whilst all the rest stand, like a fixed and immoueable multitude? if any man enquire of me in this place, why therfore is not the course of these as well obserued as of those fiue starres? To him I will answere, that we graunt that there are many things, but what they are we know not. All of vs will confesse, that each of vs hath a soule, by whose command we are impelled, and reuoked: but what this soule is which is the Ruler and Gouernour ouer vs, euery man is as farre from telling thee, as he is vncertaine where it is. Some will say that it is a spirit, an other that it is har­monie. That Man, a diuine thing, and like vnto God; This Man, a very subtill aire, and that other, an incorpor [...]all facultie: neither will there want some that will call it bloud; othersome, heat. So that a man cannot know the truth of o­ther thinges, who as yet hath not the perfect knowledge of himselfe.

CHAP. XXV.

That there is som [...]what more i [...] Comet [...] then in other Meteors of [...]i [...]e. WHy wonder we therefore that the Comets (which are a rare spe­ctacle of heauen) are as yet vnrestrained vnder certaine lawes, and that neither their beginnings nor endings are knowne, ha­uing not their returne, but after a long space of time? There are not yet a thousand and fiue hundreth yeares past since Greece

Numbred and named the light-some starres.

and many Nations are there at this day who know not the heauen but by sight, that as yet are ignorant why the Moone faileth, or suffereth an eclipse: And these things amongst vs likewise haue beene lately reduced to a certaintie. The time shall come that these things which are now hidden shall be discouered by Time, and the diligence of future Ages. One Age is ouer-short to seeke out these secrets, and a mans whole age is required to be spent in the contemplation of heauen. Is it not a miserie for vs that wee diuide this little time wee haue to liue, One A [...]e cannot know all thinges. betweene serious and friuolous occupati [...]ns? There shall bee diuers ages therefore that shall cleare these difficulties: The time shall come wherein our Posteritie shall wonder that we were ignorant of so manifest thinges: wee haue learned not long since in what time those fiue Planets, which we perceiue, doe rise and set, or stay, why they goe directly on, or recoile backward, and which holding so different courses, constraine vs to be curiou [...]: Not many yeares since it hath beene shewed vs [...] if Iupiter riseth, or setteth, or is retrograde; for so it is said, when he retireth. There haue been some that haue said vnto vs: you erre, that iudge that any starre either suppresseth or turneth his course. Celestiall bo­dies [Page 899] haue their motion, neither can they be auerted, they all goe forward, as soone as they are sent, they goe. They shall bee no more when they cease to moue. This eternall worke hath irreuocable motions: which if they should at any time s [...]ay, the one should bee confounded in the other, where as now the same tenure and equalitie conser [...]eth them.

CHAP. XXVI.

WHence commeth it then that certaine Planets seeme to bee retro­grade? Of the retrogra­dation of certain Planets. The course of the Sunne imposeth on them this appea­rance of slow motion, besides, the nature and site of their courses and circles in such sort, that at somtimes they deceiue their sight that behold them. In this sort, ships that saile with a fore-winde seeme not to stirre: The day will come when some one shall shew vs in what parts the Comets wander: why they obserue so different a course from other starres, To maintain his opinion he an­swereth to an obiec [...]ion that is made, that the Comets are more nearer the earth then the Planets and that they are of another form. what and how great they are: We content our selues with those things that are found: Let those that succeede vs manifest the truth likewise for their parts [...] We see not, saith he, any thing that is vnderneath the Planets. Our eyes pierce the Comets. First, if this be so, it is not in that part where the celestiall body is of a thick and solide fire, but there, where there is a brightnesse more rare, and in that part where the haires are scattered. Thou seest through the spaces of the fires, and not through them. All starres (saith he) are round, all Comets are extended, whereby it appeareth that they are no starres: but who will graunt thee this, that Comets are long? whereas naturally according as o­ther celestiall bodies are, they are formed round, but it is their brightnesse that extendeth it selfe. Euen as the Sunne spreadeth his beames farre and neare, and yet hath another forme then that which proceedeth from his beames: so the bodies of Comets are round, but their light appeareth more long, then that of the other starres.

CHAP. XXVII.

WHy (saiest thou?) Tell me first why the Moone receiueth a dif­ferent light from that of the Sunne, Another answer of Senecaes, to the obiection, that there is a difference be­tweene the light of the Comets and Planets. when as shee receiueth the same from the Sunne? whence is it that she is sometimes red, and sometimes pal [...]? For what cause hath she a leaden and darke co­lour, wh [...]n shee is excluded from the sight of the Sunne? make me vnderstand why all the starres haue a different appearance the one from the other, and haue no resemblance with that of the Sunne. But as nothing hinde­reth them to be starres, although they resemble not, so nothing hindereth the Comets from being eternall, and of the same condition that the starres are, al­though they haue not the same appearance. And why? the world it selfe, if thou consider the same, is it not composed of diuers parts? whence is it that the sunne is alwaies burning in the signe of Leo, and scorcheth the earth with excessiue heat, and that in Aquarius he calleth on the Winter, and causeth the Riuers to freeze? All this is but one sunne, although his nature and effects are diuers: within a short time after, he riseth in the signe of Aries, and slowly stealeth on in that of Libra, yet both the one and the other signe is of the same nature, al­though [Page 900] that in the one there is swift motion, and in the other slow progresse. Seest thou not how contrarie the elements are the one vnto the other. They are heauie and light, cold and hot, moist and drie. All the harmonie of the world is composed of discords. Thou denyest that a Comet is a starre, because the forme of the one is not answerable to that of the other. For thou seest how like that starre is that ful [...]illeth his course in thirtie yeares, to that which finisheth his within the space of twelue moneths, nature frameth not all her workes vp­on one mold, but glorifieth her selfe in her varietie. Shee hath made some bo­dies greater, some more swift then others, some more violent, and some more tempered: There are some shee hath drawn [...] from the troupe, to the end they should march apart and in sight, other some hath she put into comp [...]nie: hee is wholly ignorant of the power of nature, that thinketh not that it [...]s lawfull for him to doe that sometimes which he doth often. She sheweth not Comets or­dinarily, she attributeth them an other place, other times, and different motions from the rest: By these Comets he would embezzle the [...]xcellencie of his worke and the face of the Comet is more faire, then that it should be esteemed casuall; whether it be we obserue their extent, whether their more cleare brigh [...]nesse, and more ardent then others. But their face hath some worthy and notable thing in it, for it is not restrained and locked vp in a narrow roome [...] but is more large and spacious, and that comprehendeth that which diue [...]s starres embrace.

CHAP. XXVIII.

Presage of Co­mets. COmets signifie tempest, as Aristotle saith, and the intempe­rature of windes and raynes. Thinkest thou then that that which presageth a thing to come is not a starre? For this is not in such sort a signe and presage of tempest as that is of rayne, when

Where boyling oile doth crack, and rotten mushromes growes.

Or as it is a signe that the sea will rage,

When Morcheus sport vpon the dryer coast,
And leaue the marshes where they haunted most:
And mounting hence forsakes his watrie shroudes,
And soares aloft aboue the highest cloudes.

But thus as the Equinoctiall presageth heat or the cold of the yeare, that run­neth as the Chaldies say, that the starre that gouerneth on the birth-day, set­leth and presageth the good or euill hap of men. But to the end thou maiest know that this is thus, the Comet threatneth not the earth with winde and raine sodainly, as Aristotle saith, but maketh all the whole yeare suspected: whereby it appeareth that a Comet hath not sodainly drawne presages to re­flect them vpon that which shee meeteth withall, but shee hath them in reser­uation, and comprehended by the lawes of the world: The Comet that appea­red during the Consulship of Paterculus, and V [...]piscus, accomplished that which was foretold by Aristotle and Theophrastus: For there were great and continuall tempests euery where. But in Achaia and Macedon the Cities were ruined by earthquake. Their slow motion (saith Aristotle) sheweth that they are waigh­tie, and haue much earthly exhalation in them: Their course likewise for al­most ordinarily they are pushed towards the Poles.

CHAP. XXIX.

BOth the one and the other is false, Senecaes opi­nion of that which is contay­ned in the for­mer Chapter. I will first speake of the former, why those things that are carried more heauily are more waigh­ty? what then? Is the Planet of Saturne, which of all others sha­peth his course more slowly, heauie? But it is a signe of leuitie in it, that it is aboue the rest. But she goeth about with a longer com­passe, in the moneth more slowly, but longer then the rest. Remember thy selfe that I may say as much of Comets, although their course be more slow. But it is a lie to say they goe more slowly, for this last hath trauersed the halfe of the heauens in sixe moneths space: The former shaped his course in lesse time. But because that Comets are waightie, they are carried more low. First, that which is carried circularly, hath not a course in straight angle. Afterwards, this last be­ganne his motion in the North, and came by the West vnto the South, then raising her course vanished. The other vnder Claudianus appeared first in the North, and ceased not to raise it selfe continually on, and vntill it was extinct. Hetherto haue I proposed other mens reasons, or mine owne, in respect of Co­mets: which, whether they be true or no, the Gods know, who haue the know­ledge of truth. For vs it is lawfull to censure and coniecture vpon them in se­cret only, not with any confidence to finde them out, but yet with some hope.

CHAP. XXX.

ARISTOTLE speaketh worthily, The vse of the d [...]ctrine of Co­mets. that we ought neuer to be accom­panied with more modestie, then when we speake of the Gods: if we enter the Temples with a good countenance; if we approch the Sacrifice with abased eyes; if wee cast our gownes ouer our faces; if wee compose our behauiour in the most humblest sort that may be: how much more ought we to doe this when we dispute of fixed and wandring starres, and of the nature of the Gods; auoiding carefully all rash, impudent, light, foolish, lying, and malicious speech? neither let vs wonder that those things are discouered lately, which lye hidden so deeply. It must needes concerne Panaetius and those, Senecaes an­swere to Panae­tius as tou [...]hing Comets. that denie that a Comet is an ordinarie starre, affir­ming that it is but a vaine appearance to intreat more exactly, if euery moneth of the yeare be equally apt to produce Comets; if euery Region of the heauens be fit to entertaine them, if they may be conceiued euery where, whereas they may wander: and other questions, all which are taken away, when I say that they are no casuall fires, but interlaced in the heauens, which they bring not forth frequently, but moue them in secret. How many things are there besides Comets, that passe in secret, and neuer discouer themselues to mans eyes? How God ought to be considered. For God hath not made all thinges subiect to humane sight. How little see wee of that which is enclosed in so great an Orbe? Euen he that manageth these things, who hath created them, who hath founded the World, and hath inclosed it a­bout himselfe, and is the greater and better part of this his worke [...] is not subiect to our eyes, but is to be visited by our thoughts.

CHAP. XXXI.

Of the weaknes of mans iudgmēt in the considera­tion and knowledge of Celestiall things. THere are many thinges besides, that are neare vnto the diuinitie, and haue a power that approcheth neare vnto it, which are hid­den, or happily which thou wilt more wonder at, haue filled our eyes, and fled from them, be it that their subtilitie is so great, as the apprehension of humane vnderstanding cānot reach therun­to, or that so great a maiestie remaineth hidden in so sacred a retreat, gouerning his Kingdome, that is himselfe, without suffering any thing to approch him, but the soule of man: We cannot know, what this thing is, without which nothing is; and we wonder if some small fires are vnknowne vnto vs, wheras God which is the greatest part of the world, is not subiect to our vnderstanding? How ma­ny liuing creatures haue we first knowne in this world? and many things like­wise are there, that the people of succeeding age shall know, which are vn­knowne vnto vs. The wonders of the world are discouered from age to age. Many things are reserued for the ages to come, when as our memorie shall bee extinguished. The world is a little thing, except all men haue somewhat to obserue in it. Those thinges that are sacred are oftentimes taught. The Eleusians alwayes reserue some noueltie, to shew vnto those that revisit them. Nature discouereth not her secrets at once: we thinke that we are exercised in them, but we are but poore Nouices. Thinges that are so hidden, are not the subiects and obiects of euery mans eyes: they are enclosed and shut vp in his most retyred sacrarie. The ages wherein wee are shall see somewhat, the succedent another part: why therefore shall these things bee brought into our knowledge. The greatest come slowly, especially when we cease to trauell after them. That which we wholly endeuour in our mindes, we haue not yet effected, which is to be most wicked: vices are but yet a learning: dissolution hath found some noueltie whereupon he may mad himselfe and doate. Impu­dicitie hath attracted some new thing to defame her selfe: The pompe and va­nitie of this world hath inuented I know not what, more daintie and delicate then was accustomed, to confound it selfe: Wee are not as yet sufficiently effe­minate, but extinguish by our disguises all that which remaineth of vertue: we will out-strip women in their vanities; we that are men, attire our selues in co­lours like Harlots, which modest Matrons would be ashamed to thinke vpon: We Bride it in our walkes, and treade vpon tip-toe; wee walke not, but slip a­long. Our fingers are loaden with rings, Disorders not of Senecaes age but ou [...]s, wh [...]re­in pride want [...]th no ornam [...]nt. and there is not a ioynt that hath not a precious stone: We daily inuent, I know not what, to violate and vitiate man­hood, and to defame it, because wee cannot shake it off. One hath cut off his members, another hath retyred himselfe into the most shamefull and infamous place in the Theater, and being hired to die, is armed with infamie. The poore man likewise hath found a subiect, wherein to exercise his infirmitie.

His Conclusion is such, that he complaineth of the contempt of Philoso [...]hie, and the affectation of vanities, which if it be not a mi­sery of this time, let euery wise man iudge. CHAP. XXXII.

WOnderest thou that wisedome hath not as yet attained her perfe­ction? Iniquitie is not yet wholly discouered. Shee is but new borne, and we bestow all our labour vpon her, our eies and hands are at her seruice. Who is he that se [...]keth after wisedome? who iudgeth her worthy any more but a superficiall knowledge? who respecteth Philosophie or the liberall studie thereof, but when the Plaies and [Page 903] Pastimes are put downe, or when it rayneth, or when a man knoweth not how to loose the time? Therefore is it that so many schooles of the Philosophers are emptie. The old and new Academique haue no Reader left them: Who is he that will teach the precepts of Pyrrhon. The schoole of Pithagoras, whose scholers were so enuious, findes not a Master. The new sect of the Sextians more powerfull amongst the Romans, then any other, hauing begunne with great vehemencie, is extinguished in his infancie. Contrariwise, what care is there had that the name of some famous stage-player should not be obscured. The families of Pylades and Batillus, two famous Players, continueth by suc­cessions, there are diuers Scholers and a great number of Professors in those sciences. Priuately through the whole Citie their Pulpit soundeth: hether men and women trot. Both husbands and wiues contend which of them shall bee nearest, afterwards hauing lost all shame vnder their maskes, they enter into Tauernes, caring in no sort what becomes of Philosophie. So farre are we therefore from comprehending any of those things, which the an­cients haue left in obscuritie, that for the most part most of their inuentions are forgotten. But vndoubt [...]dly, when we shall trauell with all our power after it, if sober and modest, youth would studie this, if the elders would teach this, and then yonger learne it, yet scarcely should they sound the depth of it, where truth is placed, which now we seeke with idle hands and aboue the earth.

The End of the seuenth and last Booke of the Naturall Questions.

OF THE REST AND RETIREMENT OF A WISE-MAN. WRITTEN BY LVCIVS ANNAEVS SENECA.

The Argument of IVSTVS LIPSIVS.

I Know not whether this be a Book or an Epistle, yet is it to be seuered from the booke of blessed li [...]e, with which it hath no correspondence. Neyther know I when it was written, yet is both the matter and the handling ther­of good and learned. The question was, Whether it were lawfull for a Wise-man to liue prinately and retired from the Common-weale? It was debated a­mongst the Stoickes, who by consent called men thereunto. He maintayneth the affir­matiue, and the beginning of this booke is missing, that which is extant intendeth thus much. He saith by the example of the chiefest of the Stoiques, that this is both iust and vsuall, who although they sent some vnto the Common-weale, yet went not. But that some embraced honest repose, euen from their youth, other some in their later dayes reti­red thither, like olde souldiers that had already deserued their wages. But that honest re­pose is in the studies of wisedome, and contemplation of Nature. He addeth this, that these are pleasing both to the Stoicks and Epicures, but with some slight difference, because the one doe purposely seeke out the rest, the other vpon occasion; Namely, if the Common-wealth be desperately corrupted, if a man haue small authoritie and fauour; likewise if he he infirme and sickely. Hee concludeth that euen in retirement the Common-weale is handled, which he maketh double, the lesser and the greater; the one is concluded and comprehended in certaine bonds and lawes, as the Athenian or Roman Common-weale: the other is the whole world it selfe, wherof nature hath made vs Citizens. The greater, a wise-man both manageth and handleth euen in his rest and retirement, eyther by writing [Page 906] or teaching. This did ZENO and CHRISIPPVS, and more profited they mankinde then the labours and discourses of all actiue men.

OVT OF THE XXVII. CHAPTER.

THe Circi by all mens consent, commend vices vn­to vs, although wee attempt nothing else that is profitable for vs, yet shall it profit our selues first of all to retire our selues into our selues: the bet­ter shall wee bee euery one of vs in retiring our selues apart, and why is it not lawfull for vs to re­tire our selues to those that are the best men, and to chuse some patterne whereby we may direct our liues? which may it not be done in retire­ment? Then may a man build on that which is the best, when no man commeth betweene, that may wrest the iudgement which as yet is but weake, by the assistance of the people. Then may the life march onward with an equal and setled pace, which we make vnprofitable by contrary deliberations: for amongst all other euils this is the worst, that we change our vices into other vices, in such sort, as wee haue not that power ouer our selues to continue in one vice, which is alreadie familiar vnto vs: we grow from one vnto another, and cause our selues to bee tormented daily after some new maner. This likewise vexeth vs, that our iudge­ments are not onely depraued, but slight and vaine: we fluctuate and compre­hend one thing by another, we leaue that which we haue wished for, and runne after that which we haue forsaken. In briefe, there is a perpetuall turne and re­turne betweene our desire and our repentance. For we depend wholly on o­ther mens aduice, and that seemeth the best in our iudgement, which is desired and praised by the most, and not that which we ought to desire and esteeme. Neither estimate we the good or euil way by it selfe, but only by that which is most beaten, wherein euery one throngeth after another. Thou wilt say vnto me, What doost thou Seneca? Thou forsakest thine owne part. Truly the Sto­ickes say thus: We will be in action euen vntill the last terme of our liues, wee will not desist to seeke out common good, to helpe euery one, to assist our very enemies, and to labour with our hands: we are they that giue not any vacation to our yeares, and who, as an eloquent man saith, hide our white haires vnder our helmets. We are they amongst whom it is so hard a matter to finde any tract of idlenesse before death, that (if the occasion offer it) euen in our death we employ our selues more then euer. Why talkest thou vnto vs of the pre­cepts of Epicurus amidst the very principles of Zenoes Doctrine? If thou be ag­grieued, and moued by following one partie, why forsakest thou them not ho­nestly and couragiously without betraying them? Behold what for the present I will answer thee; Requirest thou any more at my handes then this, that I en­deuour to resemble my Masters and Conductors? What therefore wilt thou doe? I will tract that path which they leade me, and not that way which they send me.

CHAP. XXIX.

NOw will I approue vnto thee that I forsake not the precepts of the Stoicks, for they themselues haue not departed from them, and yet might I be very well excused, although I followed not their precepts but their examples. This which I say, will I diuide into two parts: in the first I wil shew how any man may from his infancie addict himselfe entirely to the contemplation of veritie, seek and exer­cise apart, the means how to order his life wel. In the second, how in his old age he may fashion other men, and make them vertuous. Herein will I follow the custome of the vestall Virgins, which diuide and order their age in such sort, that they may learne first of all to vnderstand their ceremonies, and then to practise them, and finally to teach them vnto others.

CHAP. XXX.

I Will also shew that this is approued by the Stoickes, not that I am constrained to doe nothing that repugneth a [...]ainst the saying of Zeno or Chrisippus, but because the dispute permittes me to in­cline to their aduice; and to follow alwaies the opinion of one a­lone, is to offer iniurie to the rest. Gladly would I wish it that all things were alreadie vnderstood, & that truth should be discouered & confessed by all men, we would not then change the opinions of the Stoicks: but now we seeke the truth with those men that teach the same. There are two great sorts that differ in this thing, the one of the Epicures, the other of the Stoicks; but both of them send a man to his repose, but the truth is that the wayes are diffe­rent. The Epicure saith, That a wise-man shall not haue accesse to the Common-weale, except some accident happen that driueth him thereunto. And Zeno saith, That he shall haue accesse to the Common-weale, except there be somewhat that retayneth him. The one seeketh repose of set purpose, the other vpon occasion and cause. But this cause extendeth very farre, if the Common-weale be so desperate as it can­not he helped, if it be possessed with mischiefs. The wise-man shall not labor in vain, neither hazard himselfe, knowing that it will be but lost time, especially if he haue little credite and lesse forces, and that the Common-weale be so sicke, that it neither can nor will giue him accesse or audience. Euen as a weake and consumed man will not enrowle himselfe to goe vnto the warres; and as no man will lanch a Ship into the Sea that leaketh, and hath watching tymbers: so a wise-man will not cast himselfe into a way where there is neither entrie nor a­ny issue whatsoeuer. He then that hath all his commidities in their entyre, may stay in the hauen, and addict himselfe readily to good occupations, rather then make saile and to go and cast himselfe athwart the winds and waues; in briefe, the disciple of vertues may embrace this happie repose, wherin the most peace­able men haue licence to maintaine themselues. This is required at each mans hands, that (if he may doe it) he profit diuers, at leastwise som, if not his neerest; or if he cannot, at leastwise himselfe. For when he maketh himselfe profitable to others, he procures the common good. As contrariwise, he that makes himselfe worse, first of all hurteth himselfe, then all those whom he might assist had hee beene a good man. So then he that behaueth himselfe well in his owne respect, [Page 908] doth hereby profit others, because hee prepareth them the meanes whence they may reape profit.

CHAP. XXXI.

LEt vs imagine two Common-weales, the one great and truely publique, the which comprehendeth both gods and men: where­in we cannot confine our eye within this or that limit, but wee measure the extent of the same with the Sunne: and the other, that where Nature hath caused vs to be borne. This shall be ei­ther Athens, or Carthage, or some other Citie, which appertaineth not vnto me, but to certaine men only. Some men at one time serue both these Com­mon-weales, other some the lesser onely, and some other the great, and not the lesse. We may in repose serue this greater Common-weale, & I know not whe­ther better in contemplation then in action, as if we enquire what vertue is, or if there be but one or diuers; whether it be nature or studie that maketh men vertuous: whether there be but one world that comprehendeth the seas, the firme lands, and that which is inclosed within them: or if God hath created di­uers worlds, if the matter whereof all things are made, is continuate and com­pleate, or in parcels: if there be void intermixed amongst those things that are solid: if God onely beholdeth his worke, or if he manage and gouerneth it: if he be spred about the same, and not inclosed, or if he be infused into all crea­tures: if the world be corruptible or incorruptible, and to be numbred amongst those things that haue end. What seruice doth he to God, that beholdeth and considereth these things? It is to that end, that the workes of God should haue such a man for a witnesse. We say vsually that the soueraigne good is to liue according to nature, which hath brought vs into this world, both for con­templation and action. Let vs now approue that which wee haue said here­tofore.

CHAP. XXXII.

THis shall be well approued, if euery one aske himselfe how great desire he hath had to know vnknowne things, and how much he listeneth attentiuely to all fables that are recounted vnto him. Some trauell by sea, and expose themselues to the dangers of a long voyage, vnder hope to know some hidden things, and which few other men haue seene. The like desire assembleth the people in the Thea­ters. This compelleth vs to search out hidden things, and to search out those things that are secret, to turne ouer antiquities, and to examine the customes of forren Nations. Nature hath giuen vs a curious minde, and knowing the excel­lencie of her art and secret, hath created vs to be beholders of things so excel­lent. But she had beene frustrated of her intention, had she discouered in secret, workes of so great, so apparant, so exquisitly laboured, so proper, and of so di­uers beauties. But to the end thou mayest know that she would be beheld eue­ry wayes, and not couertly or slightly consider where she hath lodged vs. She hath placed vs in the middest of her selfe, and hath giuen vs the ouer-view of e­uery thing, and hath not onely created man vpright: but also to the end he [Page 909] might behold the rising and setting of the stars, and carry his eies on euery side; she hath raised his head, and planted it vpon his necke, which boweth and tur­neth at his pleasure. Afterwards she hath produced six signes for the day, and six for the night, and hath left no part of her vndiscouered, to the end thereby that she might present them to the eye, and enkindle a desire in him to behold the rest. For we see not all things and as touching those things which appeare vnto vs, we see them not in their greatnesse: but our sight in searching them maketh way, and planteth the foundations of the truth, to the end that inquisi­tion may passe from those things that are manifest to those that are obscure, and find somewhat more ancient then the world it selfe. As, where these celestiall bodies come, what was the estate of the world, before the parts thereof was di­sposed, as now they be: what reason hath discouered those thing [...] that w [...]re drowned and confused, who hath assigned places vnto things; whence com­meth it, that those things that are waightie, are by their nature inclined down­wards; and those things that are light mount vp on high: if besides the force and waight of bodies, some higher power hath imposed a law on al those things; if that be true, and which is more iustifiable, that a man is a part o [...] God, and that they are, as it were, sparkles which that holy fire hath caused to fall vpon the earth, and that remaine enclosed in this forren place. Our thought breaketh thorow the bulwarkes of heauen [...] neither is contented with that which is shew­ed vnto it. I search, saith he, that which is beyond the world, wh [...]ther it be a deepe void, or some great extent inclosed, yet notwithstanding within certaine bounds. What is the habitude of those things that are excluded from our world, if they be informed and confused: if in euery part they haue equall place, if they be ordered to some vse, if they are belonging to our world, or far estranged from it, and whirleth about in the void [...] if they be indiuiduall, where­of all things created are to be made, or if their matter entertaineth them, and is euery way mutable: if the elements are contrarie the one vnto the other, or if they be not at discord, but by diuers meanes entertaine one another. Being borne to seeke out these things. Consider how small a time man hath receiued, although he employ himselfe wholly herein, although he permit no man to di­stract him, and were carefull to husband well euery minute of an houre, with­out losing one: although he liued longer then any other, without touch of any crosse or disaster whatsoeuer, yet is he ouer mortall, and of to small continuance to attaine vnto the knowledge of eternall things. So then I liue according to Nature, if I addict my selfe wholly vnto her, and admire and reuerence her. But her will is that I should intend to contemplation and action. I do both the one and the other, for contemplation is not without action. But we must see (sayest thou) if thou hast disposed thy selfe thereunto, to this end onely, to reape the pleasure without searching any other thing, then a continuall contemplation and without issue; for this contemplation is a sweete and very attractiue thing. To this I answere thee, that it importeth as much as to demand, with what af­fection thou addictest thy selfe to a politique and actiue life? If it be to trauell alwayes, and without ceasing, in such sort as thou neuer raisest thy selfe from the consideration of humane things to diuine? Euen as it is vnlikely that a man can desire things, or doe any worke, except he first of all haue some science in his soule, and some loue of vertue (for these things desire to be mixed together, and compared the one with the other) so vertue, which is idle and without action, is an imperfect and languishing good, which neuer maketh show of that which she hath learned. Who wil say that a vertuous man ought not to assay in action [Page 910] how much he hath profited? Dare any man maintaine that he ought to medi­tate only on that which he ought to do? Is he not tied also [...]o exercise his hand sometimes, and to bring that which he hath meditated to a true eff [...]ct. What if the delay be not in the wi [...]eman himselfe, if there wanteth not an actor, but such things as are to be acted. What, wilt thou permit him to be with himselfe? With what mind doth a wiseman retire himselfe? To the end he may know that he will act somewhat by himselfe that may profit posteritie. Vndoubtedly we that are Stoikes doe maintayne that Zeno and Chrisippus haue done more in their solitude, then if they had conducted Armies, exercised publique charges, established lawes: for they haue proposed worthy lessons, not only to a Com­mon-weale, but to all mankinde: why therfore should not such repose become a good man, by meanes whereof he gouerneth the ages to come, and instru­ct [...]th not only a small assembly of people, but teacheth all men that are liuing at this day, and that shall come hereafter into the world? In briefe, I aske if Cleanthes, Chrisippus, and Zeno, haue liued according to their precepts? I assure my selfe that thou wilt answere me thus, that they liued so, as they said, men were to liue, but none of these gouerned a Common-weale. But thou mayest reply, that they had not either the meanes, or qualities that were requisite in them that are admitted to the gouernment of publike affaires. And I say for all that, that they liued not without doing somewhat, but haue found the meanes to make their solitude more profitable vnto mankind, then other mens ende­uours and labou [...]s. So then they haue done much, although they haue done nothing in publike. Besides, there are three sorts of life, amongst which, there is a question which is the best. The one intendeth pleasure, the other contem­plation, the third action. First of all, laying aside all contention, and that irre­conciliable hatred that we haue denounced against those who are of a contrarie opinion to ours: let vs see if these three manners of liuing do not iumpe in one, although they appeare vnder diuers titles. He that approueth pleasure is not without contemplation, and he that is contemplatiue enioyeth some pleasure; and he that addicteth himselfe to the actiue life, hath not wholly forsaken the contemplatiue. There is a great difference (sayest thou) whether that be one thing which a man proposeth, or a dependance of some proposition; vndoub­tedly a great difference, and yet the one cannot be without the other. Neither is he without action, who is contemplatiue, neither doth the other doe any thing without contemplation. The third likewise; whom ordinarily we make worst account of, appeareth not an idle pleasure, but that wherein hee confir­meth himselfe by reason. So this voluptuous sect likewise is in action. And why should it not be in action? When as the Epicure himselfe saith, that hee will sometimes retire himselfe from pleasure, and long after paine, if either penitence attend pleasure, or a lesser griefe bee taken for a more grieuous. Whereto tendeth this discourse? To show that a contemplatiue life is pleasing vnto all men. Some seeke after the same, it is our place of rest and not our part. Adde hereunto now, that according to the precepts of Chri­sippus, a man may liue without trauell, not to addict himselfe vnto idlenes, but make choice of a commodious repose. The Stoiques maintaine that a wise­man will beware lest he meddle with affaires of estate. But what skilleth it how a wise-man come vnto repose, is it because the Common-weale forsaketh him, or he forsaketh the Common-weale. If the Common-weale should leaue eue­rie one there (as she searcheth not those who seeke her in despight.) I aske you to what Common-weale a wise-man should retire himselfe? Shall it be to A­thens? [Page 911] In which Socrates is condemned, and from whence Aristotle fled, for feare he should be condemned? whence enuie smothereth all vertues? Thou wilt grant me this, that a wise-man should not retire thither: if hee should goe and liue in that of Carthage, troubled with continuall seditions, enemie of their libertie who are good men: where equitie and goodnesse are basely prised, where enemies are rudely and cruelly intreated, and where citizens themselues are pursued as enemies. He will flie that place likewise. If I should represent o­ther vnto thee, I should not finde one that might support a wise-man, or be supported by a wise man. And if we finde not this Common-w [...]ale, which wee imagine, the repose beginneth to bee necessarie for all. Considering, that that alone which might be preferred before repose, is found in no part. Put case that some one say, that it is good to embark, but that we must not make saile vp­on that sea, wherein ships are drowned ordinarily, and which is agitated with sudden gusts, which carrie away the most expert Pilots out of their course: I thinke that such a one forbiddeth mee to weigh an­chor, although hee prai­seth the Nauiga­tion.

The End of the Booke of a Wise-mans rest and retirement.

CERTAINE COLLECTIONS GATHERED OVT OF SENECAES Bookes.

Of Pouertie.

COntented pouertie, as the Epicure saith, is an ho­nest thing, but it is not now pouertie, if it be content. He that agreeth well with his pouer­tie is a rich man: he is poore that desireth much, not he that hath little; for what profiteth it a man to haue much in his coffer, to hoorde vp much in his barnes, to feede much cattell, and lend much vpon vsurie, if he thirsteth after ano­ther mans fortunes, if he desire not those things which are gotten, but such as are to be attained? Askst thou me what measure there is in riches? First, to haue that which is necessarie; secondly, that which is sufficient: no man can be possessed of a peaceable and contented life, that tormenteth himselfe much about the enlargement thereof. There is no good whatsoeuer that pro­fiteth him that possesseth the same, except that which wee are addressed and willing to loose. By the law of nature the greatest riches are but a composed pouertie. But knowest thou what bounds the law of Nature hath allotted vs? Not to be hungrie, not to be a thirst, not to be colde. To satisfie and asswage thy thirst thou hast no neede to attempt the Seas, nor follow the warres: the thing that nature desireth is easily gotten, and readily s [...]t before thee. We sweat for superfluities. They are those that weare out our apparrell, that compell vs to waxe olde, that driue vs vpon forraine forces: it is at hand that may suffice vs. If a man suppose not that which he hath to be ample enough, although he be Lord of the whole world, yet is he miserable. Wretched is he that iudgeth not himselfe to be most blessed, although he command not the whole world: he is not happy that thinkes not himselfe happy. Let vs haue nothing which may be taken from vs, to his great profite that would lay holde thereof: let there be very little in thy bodie that may be taken from thee. There is no man, or very few at leastwise, that thirst after mans bloud for murther-sake onely. The thiefe passeth by the man that is naked, the poore man hath peace in a way beleagred with theeues. He hath most fruit of his riches that wanteth least. If thou liuest according to nature, thou shalt neuer be poore; if according to opi­nion neuer rich: nature desireth a little, opinion a great deale. If thou beest loaden with as many goods as diuers rich men possesse, if beside these particular [Page 913] riches fortune raise thee to honours, couereth thee with golde, cloatheth thee in purple, bringeth thee to such a height of delights and riches, that thou coue­rest the earth with marble pillars, that not onely handlest golde and siluer, but treadest vpon it, that besides all this thy chambers be garnished with statues and pictures, and all that which cunning could represent, eyther rare or exqui­site in golde or siluer: these things will teach thee to desire more greater. Na­turall desires are finite, they that spring from false opinion haue neyther end nor measure: for falsitie hath noe limit, truth hath some end; errour is infinite. Retire thy selfe therefore from these vanities, and when thou wouldest know whether thou hast a naturall or vaine desire, behold if it stay in any part or no: if hauing gone farre onward thou alwayes findest somewhat farther off to be at­chieued, know that this is not naturall. That pouertie which is exp [...]dite, is se­cure. When the allarum is sounded, she knoweth that she is not sought after: when the armie is commanded to dislodge, she seeketh how to issue, not what to carrie with her. But if she must make [...]aile, the hauen hath no noyse in it, the shores are not pestered with many attendants. A troope of men attend her not to nourish, when she neede not wish for the felicitie of for [...]aine countries: it is an easie matter to feed a few bellies that are well gouerned, and desire nought else but to be filled. Hunger is satisfied with a little, but excesse with much: pouertie is content to satisfie her instant desires: well aduised is that rich man, that hauing great store of riches, possesseth them as things that may bee ta­ken from him. What moues thee then to refuse such a one for thy companion; whose manners a discreet wise-man doth imitate. If thou wilt gouerne thy minde well, eyther thou must be poore, or like vnto a poore man. Thou canst not studie any thing that may profite thee except thou haue a care of frugalitie, and this frugalitie is a voluntary pouertie. Whole armies haue diuers times beene destitute of all things, the souldiers haue fedde vpon roots and hearbes, and haue suffered famine too loathsome to be spoken. And all this haue they suffered for a Kingdom, and which thou wilt wonder at more, for another man. Is there any man that will doubt to endure pouertie to deliuer his minde from these furious passions? Many in obtayning worldly riches, haue not seene [...]he end of their miseries, but onely the change. Neither wonder I hereat. The fault is not in the riches, but in the minde it selfe. That which made pouertie seeme tedious vnto vs, will make our riches burthensome likewise. Euen as it skilleth not whether you place a sicke man in a wooden or a golden bed; for whether [...] soeuer you shall carrie him he beareth his sickenesse with him: so it matters not whether a sicke minde be in riches or in pouertie; for his mischiefe followeth him. We haue no need of fortune to liue securely: for whatsoeuer is necessa­rie she will giue, although she be displeased. For feare she finde vs vnprepared, let pouertie be familiar with vs: we shall be more securely rich, if we know how easie a thing it is to be poore. Begin to accustome thy selfe to pouertie.

Behold my guest to set thy wealth at nought,
Resembling God in nature and in thought.

There is no man more worthy of God then hee that hath contemned riches. And there [...]ore I hinder thee not from the possession of goods, but this would I effect, that thou shouldest possesse them without feare; which thou shalt attain vnto by this one meane [...], if thou hopest that thou likewise shalt liue well with­out them, and beholdest them as things that are transitorie. Let him passe who [Page 914] followeth not thee, but something that is in thee. For this cause onely is po­uertie to be beloued, because it discouereth by whom thou art esteemed: it is a great matter not to be corrupted with the fellowship of riches. Great is that man who is poore in his riches. No man is borne rich. Whosoeuer entereth in­to this world is commanded to content himselfe with breade and milk. King­domes come not to seeke vs so farre. Nature requireth bread and water. Hee that hath these is not poore; and if he boundeth his desires in these, hee shall contend with Iupiter in felicitie: felicitie is a disquiet thing; she tormenteth her selfe, she distempereth the braine in more then one sort. She prouoketh some to braue it, some to counterfeit grauity, some she maketh proude, othersome she humbleth. If thou wilt know how little euill there is in pouertie, compare the countenance of a poore and rich man, one with the other: the poore man laugheth more often, and more heartily, he is shaken with no care, he is aboue the tempests of this world. His care passeth ouer like a slight cloud: their mirth (who are called fortunes minions) is fained: their grieuous and intollerable pride, although not openly is inwardly their torment, and so much the more grieuous, because that sometimes they haue not libertie to be publiquely mise­rable. But amongst those disgusts that torment and swell vp their hearts, they are inforced to counterfeit their happinesse: riches, honours, powers, and such like, which draw vs from the right, which in mens opinion are precious, but i [...] ef­fect vilde. We know not how to praise those things, whereof we ought not to determine according to common report, but according to the nature of the things themselues. These things haue nothing magnificent in them, that may allure our mindes vnto them, except this, that wee are accustomed to admire them. For they are not praised because they are to be desired, but because they are desired. This precedent cause haue riches: they change the minde, they breede pride and arrogancie, they draw on enuie, they so farre estrange the mind that the fame of the mony delighteth vs, although it be harmful vnto vs. All good things ought to be without fault, they are pure, they neyther corrupt nor solicite the minde, yet they extoll and delight mens minds, but with­out any pride. Those things that are good make men confident, riches make men audacious. Those things that are good, giue vs greatnesse of minde, riches insolencie.

OTHER COLLECTIONS.

Of the remedies of casualties.

ALthough thou art fully possessed with all the flo­wers of Poesie, yet debated [...]nd resolued I with my selfe at length to dedicate this little worke vnto thee [...] concerning casuall remedies, which the precedent times speake not of, posteritie shall re­spect. From whence therefore shall w [...] first take our beginning? If thou thinkest it fit from death, What, from the last? Yea, from the greatest. Hereat mankinde doth most especially tremble; neyther without cause in thy iudgement do they so. All other feares leaue some place after th [...]m, death cutteth off all things. Other things torment vs, but death deuoureth all things. The issue of al that which we feare and are affrighted at, after they haue long time followed vs and attended vs, haue their period in this: yea, euen those who thinke they feare nothing, yet notwithstanding are affraid of death. All o­ther things which we feare may finde some redresse or solace. So therefore form and conforme thy selfe, that if any man threaten thee openly with death, thou mayest delude all his threats and slight feares.

Thou shalt die: this is mans nature, and not his punishment [...] Thou shal [...] die: vpon this condition entered I the world, that I must leaue it. Thou shal [...] die [...] it is the law of Nations to restore that which thou hast borrowed. Thou shalt die [...] life is but a pilgrimage, when thou hast trauailed long [...]hou must re­turne home. Thou shalt die: I thought thou wouldest tell me some newes; to this end I came into the world [...] this I doe, euery day conducteth me thereunto. Nature when I was borne forthwith prefixed me this limit: why should I be displeased herewith? I am sworne to obey her. Thou shalt die: it is a foolish thing to feare that which thou canst not auoyde [...] He escapeth not death that deferreth it. Thou shalt die: neyther the first nor the last; many haue gone before me, and all shall follow me. Thou shalt die: this is the end of all that I ought to doe; what olde man would not be glad to be exempted from seruice? Whither the world passeth thither shall I passe. To this end are all things created. That which began must haue an end. Thou shalt die: nothing is grieuous that happeneth once. I know that I must pay that which I owe. I haue contracted with a creditor that will not loose his debt. Thou shalt die: there can be no better newes, or more happie threat to mortall men.

But th [...]u shalt be beheaded [...] what care I whether I die by the stroake, or by the stab? But thou shalt haue many stroakes, and thou shalt see diuers swords [Page 914] vnsheathed against thee. What matters it how many the wounds be [...] there can no more but one be mortall.

Thou shalt die in a strange countrie. The way to death is in euery place. I am readie to pay that which I owe. Let the creditor [...]e [...] to it [...] where he will ar­rest me. Thou shalt die in a strange countrie. There [...]s no [...]arth that is [...]trange to him that dieth. Thou shalt die in a strange countrie. Sleepe is no more grie­uous abroad then it is at home. Thou shalt die in a strange countrie. This is to returne into a mans countr [...]e without prouision.

But thou shalt die yong. It is the best that may befall a man to die before h [...] wisheth it. This is the only thing that concerneth the yong, as well as the old. We are neither cited according to our reuenewes or yeares. The same necessity of destiny constraineth both yong and old. It is best for a man to die, when he hath a desire to liue. Thou shalt die yong. Whosoeuer commeth to the last period of his destinie, di [...]th old. For it skilleth not what the age of man is, but what his terme is. Thou shalt die yong. It may be that Fortune retireth mee from some great mishap, and if from nought else, at leastwise from old age. Thou shalt die yong. It skilleth not how many yeares I haue, but how many I haue receiued. If I cannot liue longer, this is mine old age.

Thou shalt lie vnburied. What other thing shall I answere thee, but that of Virgils.

Slight is the losse of sepulture.

If I feele nothing, I need not care whether my bodie be burned or no, and if I be sensible, euery sepulture is a torment.

Heauen couers him that hath no pointed tombe.

What matters it whether fire or wilde beasts consume me, or the earth which is the sepulture of all things? This to him that hath no sense, is nothing, and to him that hath feeling a burthen. Thou shalt bee vnburied. But thou shalt bee burned, but then drowned, but then imprisoned, and locked in a tombe, but thou shalt rot, and be embowelled and sowed vp, or cast into the hollow of a stone, which shall consume and drie thee by little and little. There is no sepul­ture, we are not buried, but cast out. Thou shalt not be buried. Why art thou afraid amiddest thy most securitie. This place is out of feare and danger. We are indebted much vnto life, to death nothing. Sepulture was not inuented for the dead sake, but for the liuing, to the end that our bodies, which in sight and smell are most loathsome, should be hidden from our eyes: some the earth o­uerwhelmeth, some the flame consumeth, some are shut vp in stone, that will returne nothing but bones. We spare not the dead, but our owne eyes.

I am sicke. The time is now come wherein I must make proofe of my ver­tue. A confident man not onely discouereth himselfe vpon the sea, and in the battell, but vertue approueth her selfe euen in the bed. I am sicke. This can­not continue for an age. Either I shall leaue mine Ague, or mine Ague will leaue me. We cannot be alwayes together. The question is betwixt me and sicknesse, and either he shall be conquered, or I ouercome.

Men speake euill of thee. But euill men. It would moue me, if Marcus Ca­to, if Lelius the wise-man: if the other Cato, if the two Scipioes spake these thing [...]. In this time it is a matter praise-worthie to displease the wicked. That sentence can haue no authoritie, where hee that is condemned doth condemne. Men [Page 915] speake euill of thee [...] It would moue m [...], if they did it vpo [...] iudgement, but now they do [...] it vpon infirmitie. They sp [...]ak [...] not of me, but of them [...]elues. Men sp [...]ake euill of thee, they doe it therefore because they canno [...] speake well. Not because I deserue it [...] but because they are accustomed vnto it. For there are some dogs of that nature [...] that they barke rather vpon custome then cur [...]nesse.

Thou shalt be banished: thou art d [...]ciued when I haue done all that I may, I cannot passe out of my coun [...]rey. All men haue one countrey, and out of this no man may wander. Thou shalt be banished, I am no [...] fo [...]bidden my coun­trey, but the place. Into whatsoeuer countrey I come, I come into mine owne. I can be banished into no place, for it is my countrey. Thou shalt not be in thy countrey. That is my countrey wheresoeuer I liue well. But to liue well is in the man, and not in the place: In his power it i [...] what his fortune shall be. For if he be wise, he trauell [...]th; if a foole, he is banished. Thou shalt be banished: thou sayest thus. Thou shalt be a citizen in another Citie.

Sorrow is at hand; if it be slight, let vs endure it, patience is an easie thing to support. If it be grieuous, the glorie is the greater. Let paine extort cries, so h [...] expresse not secrets. A man cannot resist paine, neithe [...] paine reason. Paine is a tedious thing, nay rathe [...] thou art effeminate. Few men could endure paine. Let vs be one of the few. We are weake by nature. Def [...]me not Nature, she crea­ted vs strong and valiant. Let vs flie paine. And why? Knowest thou not that he followeth those that flie from him?

Pouertie is grieuous vnto me, nay, thou vnto pouertie. The error is not in pouertie, but in the poore man. S [...]ee is readie, ioyfull, and assured. I am poore. I in opinion, but not in truth. Thou art poore, because thou thinkest thy selfe so. I am poore. The birds want nothing. Tame beastes liue their time, wilde beasts find food in their solitude.

I am not powerfull, be glad, thou shalt not be impotent. I may receiue an in­iurie. Be glad, thou canst not doe any. He hath great store of money. Iudgest thou him to be a man, it is hi [...] meanes? Who enuieth a treasurie or full coffers. And this man, whom thou supposest to be master of this money, is but the bag that shutteth it vp. He hath much. Whether i [...] he couetous or prodigall: if co­uetous, he hath nothing: if prodigall, he shall haue nothing. This man, whom thou supposest to be happie, is often sad, doth often sigh. Many accompany him. Flies follow after hony; Wolues after carion; Ants after wheate. This troope followeth their prey, and not the man. I haue lost my money. It may be it would haue lost thee. I haue lost my money, but thou hadest it. I haue lost my money. Thou shalt be no more in so great danger. I haue lost my money. how happie art thou, if thou hast lost thy couetousnesse with the same. But if shee remaine with thee, yet art thou happie in some sort, because thou hast nei­ther wood nor oyle to cast into so horrible a fire. I haue lost my money. And thy money hath lost and spoiled an infinite number of men. Thou shalt be now more light to walke on thy way, and more assured in thy house. Thou shalt neither haue nor feare an heire. Fortune hath disburthened thee, if thou con­ceiue [...]t the same, and setled thee in a more secure place. Thinkest thou it to be thy wrong? It is thy remedie. Thou weepest, thou wailest, thou criest, as if thou wert vndone, because thy riches haue beene taken from thee. It is thine owne fault that this losse doth torment and touch thee so neere. If thou hadst possessed them as things that might perish, thou wouldest not torment thy selfe thus. I haue lost my money, another had lost it before, to the end thou shouldest haue it.

[Page 916]I haue lost my sight. Night and obscuritie hath her pleasures. I haue lost my sight. From how many desires art thou exempted? How many things shalt thou want, which rather then thou shouldest see [...] thou thy selfe wouldest pluck out thine eyes. Knewest thou not that bodily blindnes is a part of innocence? The eye discouereth vnto one man and adultery, to another incest, to this man a house which he desireth, to that man a towne; in briefe all sorts of mischiefes. Vndoubtedly, the eyes are the stinge of vices, and the guides of wickednesse.

I haue lost my children. Thou art a foole to bewaile the death of those that are mortall. Is this a nou [...]lti [...], or a thing to be wondered at? Is there any house exempt from this accident? Callest thou a tree miserable, whose fruit falleth to the ground whilest his branches mount aloft. Thy child is thy fruit. No man is exempt from these [...] stroakes, vntimely funerall [...] are led as well out of the Arti­ [...]icers shop, as the Kings Pallace. Destinie and age haue not the same order. A man departeth not out of the world in the same sort as he entered. But why art thou vexed? What hath happened contrarie to thy hope. Those that ought to die are dead. Yet could I haue wished that they might haue liued. But no man promised thee thus much. My children are dead. They had them who had greater right vnto them then thou? They were onely lent thee. Fortune left thee them to bring them vp, shee hath retained them, and hath taken away no­thing but her owne.

I haue suffered shipwracke. Bethinke thee not what thou hast lost, but what thou hast escaped. I came naked to the shoare [...] But thou gottest to land. I haue lost all: but thou mightest haue beene drowned with the rest.

I fell into the hands of theeues. But another man hath met with detractors, another with theeues, another with coseners [...] The way is full of dangers. Com­plain not thou that thou hast met with them, rather reioice that thou art whole and in safetie. I haue grieuous enemies. Euen as thou seekest out meanes to de­fence thy selfe against the furie of sauage beasts, and the venome of serpents [...] so see thou fortifie thy selfe with some succours against thine enemies, by meanes whereof thou mayest repulse them or represse them, or which is more assured and better, make thy selfe gracious in their eyes.

I haue lost a friend. It is true then that thou hadst one. I haue lost a friend. Seeke out another in some part where thou mayest finde him. Seeke amongst the Liberall Sciences, amongst those occupations that are iust and honest, in the shops of Artificers. This treasure is not sought out at the table. Seeke out some one that cares not for good cheere, but is frugall. I haue lost my friend. Show thy selfe to be a braue fellow, if thou hast but lost one, blush; if an only friend: why trustedst thou to one anchor in so great a tempest.

I haue lost a good wife. Didst thou finde her good, or make her good? If thou foundest her by chance, thou mayest hope to light vpon the like. If thou madest her good, hope well: the patterne is lost, but the craftesmaster is liuing. I haue lost a good wife. What allowedst thou in her? Her chastitie? How many wo­men are there foūd, that hauing maintained their honor a long time, haue lost it at last? Was it her modesty: how many haue bin numbred in the ranke of most honest matrons, that afterwards were scoulds and railers? Wert thou delighted in her loyaltie? How many of the best wiues haue we seene proue noughts, of the most diligent, the most dissolute. The minds of all vnskilfull persons, espe­cially women, is subiect to inconstancy. If thou hadst a good wife, thou couldest not maintaine that she would alwayes remaine in that estate. There is not any thing so inconstant and vnassured as the will of women. We know the diuorces [Page 917] of ancient matrimonies, and the brawles of married couples, more hatefull then diuorces. How many are there that hauing affectionately loued their wiues in their youth, haue forsaken them in their age? How oftentimes haue we laughed at the diuorces of old and married folkes? How manies noted loue, hath beene changed into more notable hatred? But this was both good, and would haue continued good had she liued. Death is the cause that thou mayest bold­ly maintaine this. I haue lost a good wife, if thou seekest none but a good wife, thou shalt finde her. Prouided that thou studie not about the antiquitie of her race, nor on her worldly possession, which men prise now adaies more then No­bilitie. Bewtie annexed to these, will make head-long time against thee, but thou shalt not haue so much labour to gouerne a mind that is puffed vp with any va­nitie. A woman that is too proud of her selfe, will make small reckoning of her husband. Marrie with a maid, or that is well brought vp, and not tainted with her mothers vices. A maid that beareth not her fathers and mothers be­quest at her cares, that is, not loaden with Rings and Iewels, nor cloathed in such apparell, as cost more then she brought vnto her marriage. Nor that causeth her selfe to be drawne in her Coach thorow the Citie, and to behold the people as boldly, and on both sides, as would her husband. Nor such an one for whom thine house will seeme too little to containe her cariage and equipage: Thou shalt worke that mayden according to thy minde, which hath not as yet beene corrupted by those dissolutions that are in request. I haue lost a vertuous wife. Art thou not ashamed to weepe, and to call thy losse intollerable? But wel, thou must know this, if thou bewailest thy wife or no. In remembring thy selfe that thou art a husband, remember also that thou art a man. I haue lost a good wife. A man cannot recouer a good mother or a good sister, but a woman is an acces­sarie good, and is not reckoned amongst those which euery one cannot meete with but once in his life time. I haue lost a good wife. I can name thee many men, that hauing bewailed a good wife, haue met a second farre better then the first.

Death, banishment, paines, sorrowes, are no punishments, but tributes which we must pay vnto this life. Destinie sendeth no man out of this world, without giuing him some stroake. Happie is he that esteemeth himselfe such, and not he who is esteemed such by others. But consider that this happines is rare in this world. It hath neere vnto it mise­rie, and borroweth something of it.

The end of SENECAES Workes.

A Table wherein SENECAES Paradoxes and other Stoicall vanities are set downe, to the end that such as are of weakest iudgement and appre­hension, may both know, and be more circumspect in iudging of them.

  • 1 IT is a thanks-giuing for a benefit when a man receiueth it with a good will.
  • 2 The vertuous child doth more good vnto his father, then hee hath receiued from him.
  • 3 Of the names of God, and if so ma­ny presents as hee bestoweth vs, should bee as many names as a man might bestow vpon him.
  • 4 Thou art not to thinke that there are but seuen wandering starres, and that the rest are fixed.
  • 5 The wicked and the foolish man is not exempt from any vice.
  • 6 Of the power of God.
  • 7 That sometimes wee ought not to recompence the good turne which we haue receiued.
  • 8 The wise-man satisfieth the rich man for the gold and siluer he offereth him by one refusall.
  • 9 Whether a man may giue vnto him­selfe, and requite himselfe.
  • 10 That no man is good, wicked, or vngratefull.
  • 11 All men are vngratefull.
  • 12 If a wise-man may receiue a bene­fit, and pleasure from another man, consi­dering that he is Lord of all things.
  • 13 Of diuers sorts of benefits.
  • 14 Of the resemblance and difference betwixt God and good Men.
  • 15 If Iupiter would fixe his eyes vp­on the earth, I thinke that he might not see any thing more faire, then Cato was at such time as he slue himselfe.
  • 16 Of fatall destinie.
  • 17 One and the same necessitie en­chaineth both Gods and Men.
  • 18 Death is in the power and will o [...] a man to kill himselfe, and to depart out of this world when hee thinketh fit, without expecting the good will and pleasure of God.
  • 19 The rich man cannot be rich except he be poore.
  • 20 Remedies against diuers accidents of this life.
  • 21 Our infirmities may bee healed, and nature which hath created vs to tend vnto good, aideth vs when wee desire her to be­come better.
  • 22 Why mournest thou? on which side soeuer thou turnest thy selfe, there is the end of thine euills.
  • 23 Mercie or compassion is an imper­fection of the soule of affections.
  • 24 If a wise-man pardoneth.
  • 25 Of happy Life, and of perfect Ver­tue.
  • 26 Wherein consisteth the soueraigne good.
  • 27 The praise of that Epicure who cut his owne throat.
  • 28 That a wise-man ought not to in­termeddle with affaires of estate.
  • 29 Of an imperfect and perfect wise-man.
  • 30 Death is neither good nor euill, for that may bee either good or euill which is [Page] something, but that which is nothing, and reduceth all things to nothing, neyther sub­iecteth vs to good or to euill.
  • 31 Of the purgation of the soule aboue vs, where she maketh a little stay to clense her selfe from the spots that remaine in her.
  • 32 Of the end of the world, and of the resolution of soules into their auncient ele­ments.
  • 33 Of the creator of all things, and of the immutable succession of things that are enchained the one within the other.
  • 34 Death is not a punishment, but the ordinance of nature.
  • 35 Iupiter after the consummation of the world, all the gods being deriued into one, and nature reposing her selfe a little, shall content himselfe with himselfe, and shall gouerne his thoughts.
  • 36 It is a great misery to be contrained to liue, it is no constraint to be constrai­ned to liue; there is no man that may be hindered from [...]orsaking this life.
  • 37 Dying we are worse then we were when we were borne.
  • 38 Of two sorts of Wise-men.
  • 39 God dwelleth in euery good man, but we know not what God he is.
  • 40 Thinkest thou for the present what I call a good man? He which is imperfect­ly: for the other which is perfectly wise ap­peareth not but by chance one time in fiue yeares, as the Phaenix and we ought not to be abashed, if the generation of great things requireth a great distance.
  • 41 Of the source of disorder which is in the soule.
  • 42 The short life of a Wise-man hath as much extent for him as the long life of God. There is likewise something wherein a wise-man marcheth before God, which is that God is wise by the benefite of nature, and not by intention and diligence.
  • 43 We deceiue our selues to thinke that life followeth death, when as death had gon before, and life followeth it.
  • 44 If the soule of a man being hidden vnder the ruines of a Tower or Mountain, cannot be deliuered from the bodie, nor finde issue, but spreadeth it selfe inconti­nently thorow all the members, because she hath no free issue.
  • 45 If by reason of continuall paine i [...] be lawfull for a man to murther himselfe.
  • 46 Of perfect vertue in this life.
  • 47 Of the equalitie of vertues [...] and wherein lieth their difference.
  • 48 Of reason and the soueraigne good.
  • 49 Of the behauiour of a wise-man in death.
  • 50 If it lie in our owne power to dis­pose of our liues as we please.
  • 51 Of the Stoicks wise man.
  • 52 Iupiter can doe no more then a wise-man.
  • 53 Three sorts of Philosopers.
  • 54 Stoicall inductions to perswade a man to murther himselfe.
  • 55 The estate of the soule before it en­tereth into the bodie, and after it hath left it.
  • 56 That no man but a wise-man can requite a good turne which is receiued.
  • 57 If a wise-man be without passions or no?
  • 58 Of happy life and the chiefest good.
  • 59 A happie man is perfectly happy.
  • 60 Of the golden age and the first men.
  • 61 Of the inuention of artes and occu­pations.
  • 62 That the firmity and felicitie of a wise-man (imagined perfect in this pre­sent life) is in himselfe.
  • 63 The soueraigne good is in this life, and cannot receiue increase.
  • 64 This world wherein we are contay­ned, is one, is God, whose members and com­panions we are.
  • 65 A dead man is no more.
  • 66 That which we call good is a body.
  • 67 Vertues and other things, yea, those accidents which are without subiect and forme, are animals and bodies.
  • 68 If it be better to haue moderate af­fection, or to haue none at all.
  • 69 Wisedome is a good thing, to be wise is not.
  • 70 Nothing seemeth more dishonest [Page] then to wish for death. It is in thine owne power to die when thou wilt.
  • 71 God is the soule of the world: it is all that which thou seest, and all that which thou seest not.
  • 72 Of the vniuersall deluge by water which shall ruine the world.
  • 73 Of the end of the world by an vni­uersall deluge.
  • 74 If the heauen turneth and the earth standeth still, or if the heauen is immoue­able, and the earth turneth. If the heauen falleth continually, vnperceiued because it falleth into that which is infinite.
  • 75 Of Comets.
  • 76 The nourishment of the flesh is a sa­uage life and beastly.
  • 77 There is nothing honest but that which is good.
  • 78 Vertue is sufficient for her selfe, to liue well and happily.
  • 79 Sinnes are equall, and vertuous a­ctions likewise.
  • 80 All imprudent men are mad.
  • 81 All wise-men are exempt and free: contrariwise, all imprudent men are vici­ous and slaues.
  • 82 No one but a wise-man is rich.
  • 83 The summe of certaine dangerous Paradoxes of the Stoickes.

AN ALPHABETICALL TABLE OF THE PRINCIPALL MATTERS CONTANED IN THE WHOLE Workes of LVCIVS ANNAEVS SENECA the Philosopher.

A
ABstinence, why the Py­thagorists abstained frō eating of flesh.
Fol. 444.
Accidents, which are extreame and past re­remedie, shake those men that are most constant and assured.
380
Accidents of the burning of the Ci­tie of Lions to ashes in Senecaes time, ibid. Why such accidents shake a con­stant heart. 381. Remedies against such accidents, because there is no­thing firme in this world, ibid. Wit­nesse the perpetual inconstancy of all affaires.
ibid.
Accusers of other men, wherin they shew themselues vniust.
613
Achilles, how he behaued himselfe towards King Priam.
548
Action and Contemplation ioyned together.
354
Actions, different in a wise-man and another man.
ibid.
Actions of the soule ought to bee carefully considered, to the end they may be well gouerned.
463
Acts, whereto they ought to be intended.
354
Admonitions ought to bee redou­bled for our profite. 394. What ad­monition is profitable.
397
Aduantage of men ouer beasts.
493
Aduantage of beasts ouer men, in regard of corruptible goods.
302
Aduersity maketh triall of mans courage. 280. If it be to be wished for, ibid. How aduersities are to be de­sired. 281. Some Stoicks opinions hereupon, ibid. The contrary opini­on of the Author, ibid. How it may be good.
294
Aduertisements for Princes.
280
Aduertisements ought to be whol­some, which affect our eares.
241
Adulteries of these times prophesi­ed of.
10
Adulteries described, would God not practised.
50
AEneas saued his father.
62
AEschines his gift to Socrates.
9
AEsops licorish dish.
205
AEtnaes secrets.
221
Affaires of this world, how they ought to be managed. 659. He that will retire himselfe apart from the af­faires of this world, must despise the vaine and imaginary commodities of the same. 201. Vanity of the world that deferreth affaires till to morrow.
235
Affection of Seneca towards his wife 432. How farre it ought to extend toward our dearest friends.
ibid.
Affections, how they are impugned by the Stoickes.
607
Affections and diuers occupations, [Page] doe abridge life 614. A dispute writ­ten in fauour of the Stoicks, who go­uerned their affections contrary to the Sect of the Epicures, who confu­sed and confounded them 421. Opi­nion of the Stoickes as touching af­fections 466. That it is impossible to keepe a measure in affections 467. Why we cannot command out affe­ctions.
ibid.
Afflictions are honorable, pleasant, profitable, and necessary for vertu­ous men 499. They are turned to good, ibid. They do as it were inclose humane greatnesse, 503. They are not to be called euill.
508
Afflictions that are foreseene, are but slight: afflictions which affect o­ther men ought to instruct vs how to digest our owne moderately: afflicti­ons fortifie the minde, and make it re­solute against aduersities, 182. Against those that increase their euill, by aug­menting the same by new grieuing.
ibid.
Age: no age exempt from choler.
285
Agrippa ennobled his Father.
59
Aiax vntimely death through cho­ler.
591
Ayre, esteemed for an element or simple bodie
779, 780, 781.
His diuers Regions.
782
Why it is moueable.
ibid.
The three Meteors thereof; with diuers opinions touching the nature of the same.
ibid.
Ayre in his lowest Region is most darkesome and lesse pure; and that it hath something vitall in it: that ayre which is inflamed through corrupti­on of the ayre, cannot subsist.
ibid.
Alexander the great; how he en­tertained the offer of the Corinthi­ans.
13
He giueth more & otherwise then he ought.
27
His entertainement by Diogenes.
96
His ambition discouered.
143
His couragious and wise behauior.
ibid.
Alexander and Pompey, authors of ambition.
399
Alexander a poore man.
476
His disgrace through his cruelty.
601
He killeth his deerest friend Clitus.
565
All things bad to the bad.
102
Almans, why easily ouercome.
537
Why they seeme generous.
ibid.
Ambition ought to be carefully a­uoyded.
557
Exclaymed against.
646
It shortneth life.
674
The most miserable passion of all o­ther.
581
It must be auoyded: Auarice must not be consulted.
201
Ambition wittily described 399. dis­swaded, 433. Ambitious slaues, 29. Ambitious outrages are auoyded by meanes, 185 Her assaults are repulsed by the vse of Philosophie, ibid. Ambi­tious medicines.
400
Amitie is not extinguished, al­though the testimony of the same dif [...]er.
8
Into what vicious extremities they fall, that know not well what true A­mity is.
166
Amity faithfull and fayned.
174
How wee ought to vse the same.
179
False friendship.
ibid.
True Amity.
222.
See Friendship.
Anger killeth those for whom it shall become sorrow.
554
How it is to be repressed.
556
Anthonie.
104
Antigonus, how he acquit himselfe from a subtile beggar.
27
He reuerenceth his father.
62.
Is graced himselfe by his sonne
ib.
A Prince of maruailous courtesie.
568
[Page] Apicius dranke poison.
745
Apothegmes of diuers noble perso­nages 21, 27, 32, 34 [...] 52, 54, 132, 136, 141, 142, 146, 148, 506, 522, 561 577, 590, 643, 649, 650, 651, 653,
338
Apprehension, how we may know the vanity or verity of a reprehension
182
Apprehension of death, with the re­medies against it.
317
Apprehension of death, which is not measurable, censured.
479
Arcesilaus a gratious benefactor.
22
A great drinker.
653
Archelaus receiueth gifts from bad men.
32
A Prince of little wi [...].
97
Arguments of the Stoickes, to proue that vertue onely sufficeth to liue well and happily.
350
Aristons choice in a young man.
223
Aristotle refuted as touching Anger
515
Approuing Anger in some sort he is reproued.
554
Armodius and Aristogiton, why they were both sirnamed Tyrants.
150
Artizans, how they ought to be re­quited.
124
They and their tooles.
375
Arts, wherein they differ from Phi­losophie.
402
Asinius Pollio, how hee recreated himselfe.
653
He would not disturbe his supper with any businesse.
ibib.
Assurances midst all the tempests of this world.
416
Astiages a furious and cruell Prince.
563
Attalus.
203
Auarice trode vpon by Anger.
550
Detested.
38
The euils that proceede from it.
147, 148
Is the cause of terrible confusions.
575
Disswaded.
372
And described.
379
Inueighed against.
46 [...]
Not willing to doe any man good without sureties.
49
Augustus miserable for want of counsaile.
173
An affable Prince.
569
Approueth himself prudent, cour­teous [...] and iust.
579
Is an example to Princes [...] to vse af­fabilitie and courtesie.
569
His moderation.
595
A cou [...]agious Prince, and constant in aduersitie.
676
His strange and prosperous cle­mencie.
590
B
BAba a foole much noted.
188
Babil. See prate.
Babil and lies, enemies to honoura­ble men.
242
Babillus excellent in all sorts of Sci­ences.
88
Bacchus, 70. why sirnamed Liber.
653
Berosus interpreted Belus.
68
Baia a City.
243
Banishment is necessary, and not e­uill.
215
Banished men are not miserable.
ibid.
Banishment cannot take our true priuiledges from vs, ibid. The exami­nations against it, disproued, ibid. It is no iniury to be banished by an euill man, ibid. Whether it be necessary to liue and die in the place where a man is borne, ibid. Whether it be a shame to be buried out of a mans countrey, ibid. How it ought to be considered, ibid. Diuers consolations in banish­ment, ibid. Notable considerations to lenifie the rigour ther [...]of, ibid. The commodities of banishments.
ibid.
[Page] Banquets immoderate.
683
Barbil a dainty dish among the Ro­mans. 357. The diuers colors it hath in dying, ib. A Barbil of foure pound weight and an halfe, presented to Ti­berius, solde by him and bought by P. Octauius for 200. crowns.
407
Barrus a great man about Nero.
604
B. Bassus.
366
Bassus Aufidius. 215. His confidence, discoursing constantly of death.
217:
Bath of Scipio.
356
Bath of Libertines,
ibid.
Bathes.
654, 615
Bathes warmed without fire,
ibid.
Bath, auncient and darksome.
356.
Beautie.
683
Bellienus.
366
Bellona.
593
Bellophorontes.
465
Benacus, a Riuer.
68
Benefits incorporate things. 7. Be­nefit, what it is, ibid. Benefits endure, although the things that are giuen perish, ibid. Benefits are giuen too late by him that expecteth to be entrea­ted, ibid. Benefits proudly giuen are odious. 24. Benefits gratiously recei­ued, are in a kinde satisfied. 32. Bene­fits are neuer so great, but malice may blame them. 34. The action of a Benefit, and that which is giuen by the action is called a Benefit. 39. Be­nefites haue no reference to fortune. 66. How Benefits should be bestow­ed. 17. How receiued. 29. Benefit de­pendeth on the will of him that gi­ueth. 125. Benefit wherein it consist­eth. 7. Benefits compared to a ball. 28. A Benefit is a bond. 138. Benefits ought not to be repented. 90. Benefit is not subiect to any Law. 116. Bene­fits are not due, except they be vo­luntarily giuen. 107. Benefit for gain or profit is vsury or exaction. 73. Be­nefits of two sortes. 122. Benefites of God, infinitly more great than those of men. 67. Benefittes of parents to­ward their children. 128. Benefites should not be vulgar or common. 12. Benefits are not equall, and why.
46.
Bion.
145, 443, 611.
Bocchus, a King,
648
Boeotia hath two Riuers that infect flockes.
ibid.
Bond-men may doe their Master a good turne.
51
Bountie.
81, 473, 474
Brutus and his death. 341. his book of vertue.
407
C
CAEcilius an vsurer.
472
Caecinna an eloquent man.
ibid.
Caelius an Orator.
559
Caesars could not mourne.
720
Caesar reproued for suffering his feete to bee kissed. 24. His siege at Cor [...]inum. 54 inflamed with vaine­glory. 399. Hee burneth the letters found with Pompey. 542. His passage into England. 720. His patient taking the death of his daughter, ibid. His clemency. 56. His ambition repro­ued.
400
Caligula called Iupiter in a combat. 525. a great mocker. 669. His impu­dencie.
670
Calons against Vatimius.
394
Caluisius his vndecent happinesse.
211
Cambyses furious. 355. addicted to wine. 562. His souldiers are destroy­ed with sand.
790
Camillus sent into exile.
105
Campania, her delights destroyed Hannibal.
224 [...] 637, 313
Cand [...]lia.
218
Canius Iulius in his death.
650
Cannae.
530
Capitol.
719
Carthage.
591
Cassander besieged the Gaules.
812
Catiline enemy to Cic [...]ro.
677, 104, 105
Cato a defender of libertie. 186.341 359.245.651.228.475. is spit vpon. 186 [Page] his temperance.
437
Celestiall bodies alwayes in motion. 732. celestiall things.
365
Censure.
235
Censures of Cato Vticensis.
186
Centaures.
2 [...]8
Chaldaea [...]s.
792
Chamaelion.
766
Charge equall to force.
200
Charibdis. 722, 218, 234. The na­ture and description thereof
320
Charitie the marke of a generous mind. 49. It maketh other mens pro­site her owne.
121
Charondas a Law-maker.
374
Chel [...]don Cleopatra's wanton Mini­on.
360
Chimaera.
455
Chrysippus taxed. 5. and why. 6. his similitude of a ball.
28
Crystall, how it is made.
821
Cicero, his Epistles to Atticus are memorable with him. 198. His setled and sweet stile, 228. Hee mocked at the Lyrick Poets, 241. Hee painteth out the life of Clodius, 413. is compa­red with Asinius Pollio, 423. He com­posed the bookes of the Common-wealth 446. The ordinary subiect of his Epistles. 472. His discouerie of Ca­tilines conspiracie, 727. The mishaps presaging his death, 676. His death.
651
Circles and crownes about the Sun and Moone, 760. in what Region of the ayre, ibid. in what time,
ibid. & 761
Circumstances of gifts.
27
Claudius Quadrigarius.
53
Cleanthes, 119. His excellent verses
441
Clemencie of Nero.
592
Cneius Pompeius.
104
Comets, 775.886. two sorts of them 888. not caused by winde, 889. nor by stormes, ibid. 890. Their qualitie iudged of. 891. not made of diuers stars, 893. Their difference, 895. two apppeared vnder Claudius and Nero, 896. How they differ from starres, 897. their presages, 900. their vse,
901
Comparison betwixt the beauty of a Father and his sonne.
59
Conscience to be respected.
232
Consideration in giuing.
48
Consolation against casualtie.
860
Constancie maketh worldly casualty nothing.
803
Contemplation of celestiall things surpasseth the wealth of the rich,
756
Contemplation of diuine things an ar­gument of Diuinity.
757
Conuersation a great light to good manners.
170
Cossus a graue man, but addicted to good fellowship.
346
Couetousnesse consenteth not that a man should be thankefull.
35
Co [...]saile how it is to be found,
290
Cowardise described.
81
Crocodiles fight with Dolphines. 836. Their properties.
ibid.
Cruelty followeth drunkennesse.
347
Curiositie in study condemned.
141
D
DAncers reprehended.
376
Darius his crueltie.
565
Dead not to be lamented.
697
Dead in opinion doe indeede liue.
698
Death better then life to the bad.
154
Death the hauen, life the storme.
286
Death despised by Cannius.
650
Death commodious.
226
Definitions of an happy life.
613
Delay and doubting, loathsome in Benefits.
17
Deluge of the world described, 823 whence it proceeded.
[...]25
Demaratus fathfull counsaile.
132 283
Demetrius contemneth Kingly bounty, 148. His slouenly allusion, 383. richer then Pompey, 643. not poor enough.
623
[Page] Demetrius the King, ouer-come by Stil [...]o.
660
Dentatus would rather die than liue.
640
Description of an angrie man; 555. Of a wise-man, 608. Of a vertuous man.
660
Desire of learning; how it should be gouerned.
442
Des [...]inie, what it is according to the Stoiques.
793
Didymus wrote foure thousand bookes.
368.
Di [...]erence betwixt a wise-man and a [...]oole, 175. Betwixt the students in Philosophie, 295. Betwixt a Profi­cient and Master in wisedome, 296. Between Philosophie and other Sci­ences, 755. Betweene Naturall and Morall Philosophie, ibid. Betwixt fulguration and lightning.
785.
Dif [...]iculties of vocation, to be quiet­ly [...]ndured.
645
Dignitie attended with care.
698
Diodorus; a selfe murtherer.
623
Diogenes; richer than Alexander.
95
Dionysius, preferred before diuers Kings.
193
Diuorced women, most pleasing to some.
9
Domitius.
54
Dragons, made tame.
547
Drunkennesse of this Age, prophe­cied of, 10. It is a voluntarie mad­nesse, 346. The description thereof.
347
Drusilla, sister to Caligula.
705
Drusus his hot nature.
677.
E
EArinus; Seneca's Darling.
344
Earth; why it trembleth & yaw­neth.
863
Earthquake, of strange nature, in Campania, 859. The naturall causes of earthquakes.
862
Eclipses of the Sunne; how to bee discouered.
771
Effects of Mercie.
59 [...]
Eloquence, spent in vaine.
696
Eminent vocations ought to bee couragious.
695
Ending of a Prince, ought to be like his beginning.
592
Enemies, made of Augustus his Guard.
591
England, or Britaine.
7 [...]1
Enuie, is the propertie of a discon­tented man; to giue thankes, the pro­pertie of him that is well pleased, 4 [...]. It is fled by obscuritie.
437
Epicurus his opinion of God, 77. The difference between him, and the Epicures of this time, 193. His en­couragement to Idomeneus, 198. His happinesse in tortures and death.
387
Erixo whipt his sonne to death.
597
Errour of a future deluge.
828
Estimation of folly may be [...] enter­tayned by a wise-man.
291
Eternitie; not easily attayned.
909
Eunuchs in Anthonies time tooke tri­bute of Rome.
105
Examples in Plaies; causes of much mischiefe.
171
Exemption from businesses, prayed for by Augustus.
676
Exercise of minde leni [...]ieth sorrow.
697
Exhortation to contemne death:
208
Exile taketh not some priuiledges from vs.
741.
F
FAbianus stile; what it was.
422
Fabius Verrucosus calleth disgrace­full courtesie, grauelly bread.
21
Fabricius his contempt of wealth.
478
Falling fire.
760
Fate, of Stoiques described.
791
Feare is without Loue.
77
Felicitie of this world, a disquiet thing.
914
[Page] Fidus Cornelius wept at a scoffe.
669
Fire [...] how it may issue from water, 788. It hath somewhat vitall in it.
847
Fishes, that are pestilent.
817
Fish-pooles, of strange fashion.
815
Flatterers alone about Augustus.
133
Flatterie counterf [...]iteth friendship; 234. Is discouered by wholesome Precepts, 263. It betrayeth secrets, 438. How it is to bee entertayned, 832. Vsed by Seneca.
692.830
Flight to Caesars statue, saued bond­men.
597.
Fluxe, and refluxe of the Sea; when it is greatest.
826
Follie; euen in teares.
418
Fooles; their difference from a wise man.
629
Fortitude defined, 39. What it is.
282
For [...]une; not to be wandred from by Princes.
589
Fountaines, hauing fluxe and re­fluxe.
815.
Friendship admitted, must bee tru­sted, 165.166: A friend to himselfe, is a friend to all.
170
Frugalitie in Seneca, 358. Frugalitie of the ancient Romans.
744
Fruits of Abstinence, 445. Fruits of Mercie.
591
Furnius.
34.
G
GAllio; Seneca his brother.
831
Gifts of Kings, may bee equalled by poore men, 8. Gifts from God are to be repayed, 699. The giuer, not the gift, accepted by God, 8. Gifts of great men are slow; but their iniuries are sudden.
20
God; to be marched after, 621. Hi [...] blessing to man: Mans vngratefulnes, and foolish exceptions, 37. His be­nefits to Mankinde, 68. His names according to Seneca.
69
Good the chiefest, is peace of cons [...]i­ence, 617. Good of the Si [...]iques, 481. Good, is not to liue; but to liue well.
286
Good deedes are to bee don [...] euery way, 4. They would bee s [...]ene, 5. Good bookes comfort, 700. Good co [...]saile of Attal [...], 453. Good men will not be enforced to doe euill.
222
Go [...]d thoughts, a great purchase, 624. And are the beginning [...] of good workes.
825
Goods of this world, not truely goods, 738. Not reiected by a wise man, 628. Not loued by vertuous men [...] 746. Good vses of goods.
[...]27
Go [...]ernours, elected by goodnesse.
374
Griefe profiteth [...]one, 692. Is lesse­ned by complaint, 693. It ought not to be taken for ine [...]itable things.
694 [...]
H
HAile; how it is made, 8 [...]9. How it differeth from Snow, ibid. None in winter.
ibid.
Haire kept long, in former time.
4 [...]3 776.
Hannibal his bloudie minde.
4 [...]1
Happinesse of contemp [...]ation [...]
[...]5 [...]
Harpagus ca [...]e [...]h his owne sonne.
564
Harpaste, Seneca [...]s wi [...]es foole.
[...]4 [...]
Heat in Augustus in his youth.
59 [...]
Heathenish resolutions in death
288
Heauen, common to God [...] and men,
75 [...].724
Hecaton.
29
Heluia comforted 737. O [...]ght not to be sad for h [...]r sonne.
755
Hercules, burned a liue, 652. One of the ancient wise-men [...]
65 [...]
H [...]r [...]nni [...]s Mact [...] displeaseth Cali­gul [...], by calling him Caius.
670
Heroick vertues of Hel [...] si [...]er [...]
753
Hesiodus.
5
Hipocrates Aphorisme; why it is [Page] falsified.
404
Hippias killed his neerest friends.
531
Homer challenged by sundry Sects of Philosophers.
364
Honesty praised.
65
Honours are cares.
263
Horatius Cocles his valour.
478
Hostius an impure villaine.
774
How a man ought to behaue him­selfe in receiuing a benefit from a bad man.
32
How a man should disco [...]rse.
229
How to liue in retirement.
284
How a man may gouerne himselfe well.
913
I
IDlenesse abhorred.
172
Iesting, how to be auoyded.
669
Ignominy of pouerty, not to be cared for.
747
Ignorance of things is euill.
219
Ilands new made.
788
Ilands floting.
820
Imperfections not long conceal [...]d.
585
Impiety it is, not to reuerence & loue our parents: and not to acknowledge them is madnesse.
42
Inf [...]licities fruitlesse effects.
223
Ingratitude the greatest euill, 10. e­uery where reproued, no where puni­shed.
44
Ingratefull is he that denieth a good turne.
41
Iniury, what it meaneth, 668. Of what nature it is to a wise-man.
663
Ins [...]ti [...]blenesse of desire.
747
Insinuations of S [...]neca.
701
Interpretation of things spoken by another.
668
Inuectiues against intemperance.
744
Iphicrates his answere of parentage.
670
Iuba.
291
Iudgment corrupted by Clodius.
413
Iudgement of mens stiles.
423
Iulius Graecinus his merry censure of Austen.
204
K
KIngs abused, 134. Their safetie the safety of all.
586
Kings and Tyrants, how they dif­fer, 593. The miserie of cruell Kings.
584
Kings like to fathers, 585. They ob­taine no glory by cruelty.
597
Kings ouer Bees.
598
Kingly riches spent vpon bookes.
644
Knowledge of a mans fault is the be­ginning of his health.
213
L
LAmproies fed with men.
537
Lasciuious loue not to be entertay­ned.
467
Lawyers impertinent subtilties.
116
Learned men honor Noble-men by their writings.
198
Leonidas his valiant encouragement.
343
Lessening of griefe.
693
Lessons for Play-haunters.
170
Libertie what it is.
244
Lie, well giuen, 266. wisely discoue­red.
323
Life to be hazarded for Charitie.
10
Life is no good thing, but to liue well.
58
Life compared to a Citie sacked.
157
Life not to be prised.
646
Lightning [...], their effects, 791. foret [...]ll future things, ibid. Their diuers names 795. said to be darted by Iupiter, 797.798. Why they appeare at once, 802. How made.
773, 783
Lions made gentle.
4
Liuia soone finished mourning for [Page] Drus [...]s, 711. her wisdome.
590
Liuing against Nature.
486
Logituns bitterly foolish.
241
Loue betwixt Prince and subiect, the mai [...]tenance of the estate.
586
Lucius Cynna pardoned by Augustus.
590
L [...]cius Piso a good drinker, but a di­ligent Officer.
346
Lucius Sylla his bloudy minde.
593
Lyons the Citie burned.
381
Lysimachus killed a Lion, 565. is cast to Lions.
601
M
MAgnanimity is to contemne base things.
303
Mamercus a filthy fellow.
84
Man continually euill, 10. His ine­stimable good, is to be his owne, 307. Being free from aduersitie is most mi­serable.
503
Manes ranne away from Diogenes.
643
Marcellinus a merrie Gre [...]ke.
215
Marcellus, sonne to Octauia.
711
Marci [...] comforted for the death of her sonne.
709
Marcus Allius receiued a gift and no gift.
21
Marriage after refusall.
49
Marke Anthonie solemnized his brothers funerals, with the Massacre of twenty Legions, 704. defeated by Augustus.
590
Marullus.
418
Mathematickes perfect not the mind.
367
Matter of writing reserued for po­steritie.
269
Maxim [...]s, Senecaes friend.
3 [...]8
Medes permit no action against in­grati [...]d [...]
44
Mediocriti [...] alwayes content.
745
Men cannot flie necessities: they may ouercom them, 225. they follow honest [...]hings then, when they can doe nought else, 307. When men grew learned, good men ceased, 403. Men swell for superfluities.
312
Mercie, her fruits. [...]591. praised in Augustus.
59 [...]
Metellus endured banishment con­stantly.
204
Meteors of fire.
758
A fierie Meteor, called a Goate.
758
Fiery Meteors, called Cast [...]r and P [...]ux.
759
Meteors of diuers sortes.
772
Metrodorus, of what desert he was.
245
His prophesie of himselfe and Epi­curus.
322
Metronactes a Philosopher, his death.
389
Mildenesse defined.
605
Minde giueth value to things.
7
A minde that is pure entertaineth God.
360
Mindyrides the most idle of men.
542
Miseries of a pleasure.
142
Miserie of seruants.
237
Mithridates King of Armenia, a­mong the Souldiers of Caligula.
648
Mecaenas delicacie, 459. could not sleepe.
503
Mortification in heathen men.
372
Multitude of bookes shew varietie: but wisedome is gathered from few.
234
The multitude is not to be follow­ed.
612
M [...]tability whenc [...] it is.
739
Mutius thrust his hand into the flame.
204
N
NAture is not without God.
[...]0
It teacheth not sorrow.
714
I [...] contented with a little.
737
Naughtinesse hatefull to euery man.
76
Necessary things preferred before [Page] the best.
49
Neighbours, to be relieued.
627
Nero, loth to shed bloud, 605. His power described, 583. His milde go­uernement at the first, 584. His milde speech.
605
New-yeares-gifts in vse amongst the Romans.
679
Night-Owles described.
487
Nilus, why it encreaseth in Som­mer, 833. His Cataracts, 834. His Originall sought for.
866
Nobilitie appeareth in the minde.
233
No man dyeth too soone [...]
727
No man more estranged from life, than other.
728
No man knoweth his destinie.
ibid.
Nomentanus, an Epicure.
618
Nothing may hurt that which is e­ternall.
255
Noueltie the ignorant mans euill.
312.
O
OBiections about the Raine-bow.
765
Obiections against Philosophers an­swered.
607
Obiections against Zeno, Plato, and o­thers.
613
Occupations vnnecessarie, to be auoi­ded.
648
Ocean, created with the world.
818
Octavia, her mourning for Marcel­lus, 711. Sister to Augustus.
703
Offences, not so much repressed by crueltie, as by clemencie.
6 [...]0
One man cannot endure all earthly miseries.
647
One death dischargeth many sor­rowes.
726
Opinion should rather follow, than leade vs.
139
Opinion of Seneca concerning death.
747
Oration of Augustus to Cynna.
591
Orators in Rome censured.
229
Other mens goods must be restored
154
Others haue felt that, which wee feele.
692
Others, not to be sorrowed for.
694
P
PAcuuius his Epicurean remem­brance of death.
181
Paine, is but opinion.
318
Parelies.
770 771
Parents wish our wealth to others harme: wit is mans best possession.
220
Parricides punishment.
596
Parsimonie defined.
39
Patrimonie, that is great, requireth great liberalitie.
5
Paulus, saued by his slaue.
55
Peace of cōscience, the chiefest good
617
Pestilent aire.
879
Phalaris, a Tyrant.
6 [...]6
Philip his iustice vpon ingratitude.
89
Philosophers, are good subiects.
297
Philosophers beg; Cookes flourish.
404
Philosophie; what it promiseth.
168
It maketh men noble.
[...]33
Her fruits.
373
Is to bee perfected in future times.
899
Phisick; what it was at first.
403
Pisistratus would not bee made an­grie.
561
Pithagoras, his transmigration of soules.
444
Pithon.
344
Plato.
124
His frugaliti [...] l [...]ngthned his life,
260
Being angrie, he would not p [...]nish his seruant.
562
Pleasure; how it agreeth with ver­tue.
620
Pleasures of bodie make not hap­pie.
[Page]614
Pleasures of bodie and soule, not to be confounded.
615
Poets; their vanitie.
5
Policie, in redemanding benefit [...].
110
Poore men free from care.
745
Possidonius his worthie lesson, 320. His foure kindes of Arts.
366
Praise of plea [...]ure, is pernicious.
619
Pretences of vaine men.
296
Priam, entertayned by Achilles.
548
Princes, most adorned by clemen­cie.
585
Profit beginneth at a mans selfe.
11
Pr [...]gnostiques of the Rainbow
767
Prophecies of the increase of lear­ning.
198
Punishment none so hatefull, as pub­lique hatred.
50.
Q
QVaking of the earth, caused by winde, 868.870. Diuided into three sorts.
875
Quaking of the earth by succession. ibid. By inclination, 876. How farre it may extend, ibid. In AEgypt, 878. It hath depriued some of sense, 880. It causeth contempt of death.
881
Questions about benefits, and their vse.
337
A question, whether a wise man pardoneth.
608
Quiet enduring the difficulties of a mans vocation.
645
Quietnesse perswaded.
581
Quietu [...] est; not to bee gotten by Receiuers.
588
R
RAine wetteth not aboue ten foot deepe.
810
Raine-bow: her cause, forme, and appearing at night, 762. Her colours, 763.764. Why greater than the Sunne, 767. Her colour, Ibid. Her appearing in halfe a circle.
76 [...]
Reading with discretion, 164. Nou­risheth the wit.
348
Remedies against death, 915. Against violent death, ibid. Against death in a strange countrie 914. Against death in yong yeares, ibid. Against want of buriall, ibid. Against banishment, 915. Against sorrow, pouertie, and casual­ties, ibid. Against blindnesse, losse of children, and [...]hipwrack, 916. Against losse of a good wife.
917
Restitution, thought necessarie.
155
Reuengefull men leade a miserable life.
438
Rhinocolur [...], whence named.
567
Riches; and their e [...]fects.
914
Riches of a King, spent vpon books,
644
How to bee gotten easily and sud­denly.
475.
Rich men are poore for the most part of their liues.
746
Riuers; why sometimes dryed vp,
812.
Their causes.
813
Their increase in sommer.
821
Their purgation.
822
Vnder the ground.
853
Rods like the Raine-bow.
770
Romans tongue excellent,
348.
Their intemperate bathing.
356
Romulus dyed, during the Eclipse of the Sunne.
446
Rufus, saued by his slaues counsaile.
55
Rutilius.
105.204.
S
SAtellius Quadratus, a smell-feast, flatterer, or iester.
211
Scipio saued his father.
60.
His loue to his Countrie.
355
Scoffing; how to be auoided.
669
〈1 page duplicate〉〈1 page duplicate〉
[Page] Scribonia, Drusus wiues Aunt.
287
Seales better trusted than soules.
49
Seianus as dangerously friended as offended, 250. his sudden fall.
648
Seneca, his dyet and manner of li­uing.
345
His loue to his wife.
433
Being old, he wrote of Philosophy
805
Drowned in vices.
613
Senecio's sudden death.
424
Serapions headlong and hudling discourse.
227
Seruants how they ought to be v­sed and esteemed.
236
Seruile imitation is condemned.
221
Sextius his excellency.
269
Shamefull it is for a wise-man to be wise by his note-booke.
221
Sicilian young men.
62
Sickenesse, how it should be tolera­ted.
319
Singularitie not to be affected.
168
Slaues are not tyed to any insolent action.
52
Cast aliue to Fishes.
579
Sluggishnesse reproued.
489
Snow, where it is made.
841
Why it is soft.
843
Abused in meates and drinkes.
844
Societies forces.
76
Socrates refused the courtesies of King Archelaus.
96, 97.
His conscience.
436
His modest discouery of want.
156 204
His iudgement of trauell.
433
His scoffe vpon one that struck him
561
Solitude a liuing mans graue with­out studie.
340
Sonnes, whether they may giue be­nefits to their Parents.
56
Sophisters taxed.
239
Sophr [...]nisius, Socrates his father.
59
Sotion, Senecaes Master.
240
He made Seneca halfe a Pythago­rist.
444
Statists instructed.
85
Stilpo vanquished Demetrius.
660.
His answer to Demetrius, 176. His con­solation in miserie.
ibid.
Stoiques attribute to euery one a Genius.
450
Submission of Augustus.
595
Supernaturall Philosophy of the Stoickes.
758
T
TAming of Elephants.
4
Tapers, carryed in funeralls.
ibid.
Telesphorus, cruelly handled by Ly­simachus.
565
Temperance, a great vertue.
208
Thankefulnesse towards Gods and Men.
106
That is neuer said too much, that is neuer learned too much.
211
The cause of broken sleepes.
25 [...]
Theaters are filled; Philosophers Schooles emptie.
308
Theodorus his answer to a Tyrant.
650
Thought maketh vnhappinesse.
807
Three sorts of Proficients in vertue.
306
Thunders, 760, 785, 786, 787. Their diuersitie, 789. their causes, 801. their definition.
802
Tiberius Caesar his reliefe to prodi­galls, 21, 55. His pollicie, 112. His go­uernement commended.
585
Timagenes saying of Rome.
382
Time will not be ours, except we be our owne.
295
Titus Arius his condemning of his sonne.
595
Titus Ma [...]lius his worthy care of his father.
63
Torment, how much the more it is, so much the more glorious is it.
502
Trauaile, the effects and vses thereof, 213. limited.
285
Treasures, not secure if strictly exa­mined.
588
Triuiall subtileties are condemned. 260. Triuiall proofes, to make the [Page] soule a bodie.
439
Trustie friends, a remedie against a troubled minde.
642
Tullius Cimber a boone companion.
345.
A babler.
ibid.
Tullius Marcellin [...]s his resolution.
313
Two sorts of vngratefull men.
81
V
VAine and Stoicall Arguments, to maintaine violent death.
288
Valerius Asiatius abused by Caligu­la.
670
Vanity of flattering praise, 263. Va­nitie of trauaile.
434.
Vanity worthily described.
757
Vanity in apparrell.
903
Variety of learning maketh not men good.
364
Varr [...] the best learned amongst the Romans.
741
Vatinius escaped scoffing.
669
Verity and ver [...]ue are the same, saith Socrates.
292
Verse more eff [...]ctually affects than Prose.
443
Vertue, Time, Abilitie, and Fortune are requisite to requite a benefite, 42. Vertues directions are to be desired, 283. Vertue alwayes happy, 304. How Vertue agreeth with pleasure, 620. It maketh good vse of riches.
626
Vices are all in all men, but not e­qually apparant.
82.
Vices kisse vs, that they may kill vs.
245
Vice, like to vertue.
478
Vicissitude of all things.
224
Vngratefull Citizens, 104. Vngrate­full Common-weales, ibid. Vngrateful men, how to be borne withall.
156
Voyce, how to be gouerned.
188
Volesus his bloudy minde.
431
Voluptuous persons not wise.
618
Vsurie one hundred for one hun­dred.
472
W
WAnt of a graue is no miserie.
389
Water and its originall.
808, 809.
Why naturally warme.
819
Way to riches.
266
What maketh men vngratefull.
34
What indifferent things be.
341
When a man is in health.
296
Who willingly hath receiued a be­nefit, hath restored the same.
37
Who is a Gentl [...]man.
233
Why Physicke was lesse vsed in aun­cient time.
403
Why a wise-man is patient.
667
Wicked men may be concealed, but not secured.
438
They haue no true pleasures.
618
Will is the Mistresse of action.
120
Will for the deede.
94
Winde, what it is.
845
Whereof it is composed.
846
Made in diuers sorts.
847
Whence it proceedeth.
848
Violent in the Spring.
849
How it breaketh from the cloudes.
851
How it breaketh out of the earth.
ibid.
His distinctions, and their names.
853
There be twelue principall.
854
His Temple, built by Augustus.
ibid.
Wine discouereth secrets.
346
Wisedome, what it is really.
364
Though but little, yet is it more worth than much superfluous know­ledge.
141
A wise-man coueteth nothing.
143
Wise-mens manner of life.
268
What a wise-man is.
293
A wise-mans vprightnes in respect of benefits.
338
A wise-man is a Tutor of mankind
371
A wise-man hath different actions.
354
A wise-man described.
608
[Page] Womens shamelesse excesse, 147. How long to mourne for their hus­bands, 268. As great surfetters, as men; and therefore goutie and bald, with men.
40 [...]
Women couragiously bearing losse of children.
721
World; the parts and matter there­of.
778
Worldly affaires are trifles.
757
Wrath; a womanish qualitie, 587. Is defined, 529.531. Being often ex­ercised, it is changed into crueltie, 530. It is a great furie, ibid. It is a vice, ad­mitted by our owne will, 528. Not decent in a King.
587.
X
XAn [...]ippe powred foule water on the head of Socrates.
670
Xenocrates his opinion of a blessed man, 352. His opinion of a wise man.
ibid.
Xerxes his crueltie, 565. He would [...]etter the Sea.
659.
Y
YOuth of Augustus described, 592. A yong man slaine for being too [...]ine, 548. A yong man chosen accor­ding to Aristo.
223
Yeares, well imployed, attaine wise­dome, 285. The first yeare of Nero, the bookes of Clemencie written.
585
Z
ZEno, constant in promises to his losse, 90. His collection, 341. His argument, why a good man will not be drunke, 345. His vse of a great losse.
650
FINIS.

Faults escaped in the Printing.

PAge 4. line 22. for exhorteth reade extorteth. p. 4. l. 27. for expalliat r. expatiate. p. 5. l. 17. for no Virgins r. Ves [...]als [...] p. 10. l. 3 [...]or depart out of this li [...]e r, end. p. 13. l. 22. for yong r [...] mad. p. 33. l. 26. for last r. first. p. 62. l. 33. for pre­s [...]rue r performe p. 70. l. 42. for loue r. vse. p. 93. l. 40 for preserued r. preferred. p. 94. l. 23. [...]or Captaine r. captiue. p. 10 [...] l. 17. pu [...] out, It is of the Stoickes doctrine. p. 104. l. 17 for Consular r. Consulate. p. 107. l. 17. for thou didst not fall r. thou falledst downe. p. 107. l. 17. for thou didst not r. thou didst. p. [...]10. l. 39. for Sucre r. Sucro [...]. p. 134. l. 6. for hate r. beare. p. 14 [...]. l. 43. for care r [...]ase. p. 182. l. 48. for triumphing r. trampling. p. 184. l. 3. for Ceuta r. Cicuta. p. 195. l. 32. for procreation r. procuration p. 200. l. 17. for and such counsaile r. and such counsaile is giuen. p. 206. l. 13. for if I can r. if I cannot. p. 221. l. 21 for nose-gay r. elegancies. p. 240. l. 30. for admission r. admonition. p. 249. l. 1 [...]. for destituted r. destinated. p. 249. l. 13 for sickenesse r. sh [...]rt breathing or Astma. p. 249. l. 36. for whe [...]e r. whereas. p. 251. l. 44. for she r. [...]e. p. 287. l. 14 for absence r. abstinence p. 304. l. 37. for lust r. lost p. 313. l. 45. for desi [...] r. digest. p. 403. l. 40. for subu [...] ­taries r [...] saluatories. p 417. l. 37. for art r. act. p. 423. l. 40. for [...]late r. elate. p. 435. l 41. for louer. Lord p. 443. l. 23. for vices r. verses. p. 444. l. 20. for eye-s [...]es r. Oysters. p. 450. l. 32. for resigned r. assigned. p. 456. l [...] 48 for she is r. she is not. p. 457. l. 43. for Lucillius r. Caecilianus. p. 485 l. 26 [...] for priued r. praued. p. 505. l. 38. for [...]ateneth r. [...]asteneth. p. 515. l. 33 [...]or ruines r. reynes. p. 516. l. 1. for ful r. [...]orce. p. 549. l. 4. for mercies r. merits. p. 578. l. 5. for repaired r. prepared.

LONDON, Printed by WILLIAM STANSBY. Anno Domini, 1614.

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.