The first Chapter.

THE most vsuall waie to appease those minds we have offended when revenge lies in their hands, and that we stand at their mer­cie, is by submission to move them to commiseration and pitty: Nouerthelesse, courage, constancie, and resolution (meanes al­together opposite) have sometimes wrought the same effect. Edward the blacke Prince of Wales (who so long governed our Countrie of Guienne, a man whose conditions and fortune were accompanied with many notable parts of worth and magnani­mity) having bin grievously offended by the Limosins, though he by main forcetooke & entred their Citie, could by no means be appeased, nor by the wailefull out▪ cries of all sorts of people (as of men, women, and chil­dren) be moved to any pittie, they prostrating themselues to the common slaughter, crying for mercie, and humbly submitting themselues at his feete, vntill such time as in triumphant manner passing through their citie, he perceiued three French gentlemen, who alone, with an incredible & vndaunted boldnes gainstood the enraged violence, and made head against the furie of his victorious army. The consideration and respect of so notable a vertue, did first a­bate the dint of his wrath, and from those three began to relent, and shew mercie to all the o­ther inhabitants of the said towne. Scanderbeg. Prince of Epirus, following one of his soldiers, with purpose to kill him, who by all means of humilitie, & submisse entreatie, had first assaied to pacifie him, in such an vnavoidable extremity, resolved at last, resolutely to encounter him with his sword in his hand. This resolution did immediatly stay his Captaines fury, who see­ing him vndertake so honorable an attempt, not only forgave, but received him into grace & favour. This example may happily, of such as have not knowne the prodigious force, and matchlesse valor of the said Prince, admit an other interpretation. The Emperor Courad [...] ▪ third of that name; having besieged G [...]elphe, Duke of Bavaria, what vile or base satisfaction soever was offred him, would yeeld to no other milder conditions, but only to suffer such gen­tle women as were with the Duke in the citie (their honors safe) to issue out of the towne a [...]oot, with such things as they could carry about them. The [...] an vnrelenting courage, advised and resolved themselves (neglecting all other riches or jewels) to carrie their husbands, their children, and the Duke himselfe, on their backes: The Emperor perceiving the quaintnes of their devise, tooke so great pleasure at it, that he wept for joy, & forthwith converted that for­mer inexorable rage, & mortall hatred he bare the Duke, into so milde a relenting and gentle [...] [Page 2] ther of these waies might easily perswade me: for I am much inclined to mercie, and affected to mildnesse. So it is, that in mine opinion, I should more naturally stoop vnto compassion, than bend to estimation. Yet is pitie held a vicious passion among the Stoickes. They would have vs aide the afflicted, but not to faint, and cosuffer with them. These examples seeme fittest for mee, forsomuch as these mindes are seene to be assaulted and environed by these two meanes, in vndauntedly suffering the one, and stooping vnder the other. It may peraduentvre be said, that to yeelde ones heart vnto commiseration, is an effect of facilitie, tendernesse, and meekenesse: whence it proceedeth, that the weakest natures, as of women, children, and the vulgar sort are more subject vnto it. But (having contemned teares and wailings) to yeeld vnto the onely reverence of the sacred Image of vertue, is the effect of a couragious and imployable minde, holding a masculine and con­stant vigor, in honour and affection. Notwithstanding amazement and admiration may in lesse generous mindes worke the like effect. Witnesse the Thebanes, who having accused and indited their captaines, as of a capitall crime, forsomuch as they had continued their charge, beyond the time prescribed them, absolved and quit Pelopidas of all punishment, be­cause he submissiuely yeelded vnder the burden of such objections, and to save himselfe, im­ployed no other meanes, but suing-requests, and demisse entreaties; where on the contrary, Epaminondas, boldely relating the exploits atchieved by him, and with a fierce and arrogant manner, vpbraiding the people with them, had not the heart so much as to take their lots into his hands, but went his way, and was freely absolved: the assembly much commen­ding the stoutnesse of his courage. Dionysius the elder, after long-lingering and extreame difficulties, having taken the Citie of Reggio, and in it the Captaine Phyton (a worthy ho­nest man) who had so obstinately defended the same, would needes shew a tragicall ex­ample of revenge. First, he tolde him, how the day before, he had caused his sonne, and all his kinsfolkes to be drowned. To whom Phy [...]on, stoutly out-staring him answered no­thing, but that they were more happy than himselfe, by the space of one day. Afterward hee caused him to be stripped, and by his executioners to be taken and dragged through the Citie, most ignominiously, and cruelly whipping him, charging him besides, with outragious and contumel [...]ous speeches. All which notwithstanding, as one no whit dis­maied, hee ever shewed a constant and resolute heart. And with a cheerefull and bold countenance went on still, lowdly recounting the honourable and glorious cause of his death, which was, that hee would never consent to yeeld his Countrie into the handes of a cruell tyrant, menacing him with an imminent punishment of the Gods. Dionysius plainely reading in his Souldiers lookes, that in liew of animating them with braving his conquered enemie, they in contempt of him, and skorne of his triumph, seemed by the a­stonishment of so rare a vertue, to be mooved with compassion, and enclined to mutinie, yea, and to free Phy [...]on from out the hands of his Sergean [...]s or Guard, caused his torture to cease, and secretly sent him to be drowned in the Sea. Surely, man is a wonderfull, vain, diuerse, and wavering subject: it is very hard to ground any directly-constant and vniforme judgement vpon him. Behold Pompey who freely pardoned all the Citie of the Mamertines, against which hee was grievously enraged, for the love of the magnanimitie, and conside­deration of the exceeding vertue of Zeno, one of their fellow-citizens, who tooke the publike fault wholy vpon himselfe, and desired no other favor, but alone to beare the punish­ment thereof; whereas Syllaes hoste having vsed the like vertue in the Citie of Perugia, ob­tained nothing, neither for himselfe, nor for others. And directly against my first exam­ple, the hardiest amongst men, and so gracious to the vanquished, Alexander the great, after many strange difficulties, forcing the Citie of Gaza, encountred by chaunce with Betis, that commanded therein, of whose valour (during the siege) hee had felt woonderfull and strange exploites, beeing then alone, forsaken of all his followers, his armes all-broken, all-besmeared with blood and wounds, ‘fighting amongst a number of Macedonians, who pell-mell laid still vpon him; provoked by so deere a victorie (for among other mishappes hee had newly received two hurts in his body) said thus vnto him;’ Betis, thou shalt not die as thou wouldest: for make account thou must indure all the torments may possibly bee devised or inflicted vpon a caitife wretch, as thou art. But he, for all his enemies threates, without speaking one word, returned onely an as­sured, sterne, and disdainefull countenance vpon him; which silent obstinacie Alexander [Page 3] noting, said thus vnto himselfe: What? would hee not bend his knee? could he not vtter one suppliant voyce? I will assuredly vanquish his silence, and if I can not wrest a word from him, I will at least make him to sobbe or groane. And converting his anger into rage, comman­ded his heeles to bee through-pierced, and so all alive with a cord through them, to be torne, ma [...]gled, and dismembred at a carts taile. May it be, the force of his courage, was so naturall and peculiar vnto him, that because he would no-whit admire him, he re­spected him the lesse? or deemed he it so proper vnto himselfe, that in his height, he could not without the spight of an envious passion, endure to see it in an other? or was the naturall violence of his rage incapable of any opposition? surely, had it received any restraint, it may be supposed, that in the ransacking and desolation of the Citie of Thebes, it should have felt the same; in seeing so many Worthies lost, and valiant men put to the sword, as having no meanes of publike defence; for aboue six thousand were slaine and massacred, of which not one was seene, either to runne away, or beg for grace. But on the contrary, some here and there seeking to affront, and endevouring to check their victorious enemies, vrging and provoking them to force them die an honourable death. Not one was seene to yeelde, and that to his last gaspe did not attempt to revenge himselfe, and with all weapons of dis­paire, with the death of some enemie, comfort and sweeten his owne miserie. Yet could not the affliction of their vertue find any ruth or pitie, nor might one day su [...]ice to glut or as­swage his revengefull wrath. This burcherous slaughter continued vnto the last drop of any remaining blood; where none were spared but the vnarmed and naked, the aged and impo­tent, the women and children; that so from amongst them, they might get thirtie thousand slaves.

The second Chapter.

NO man is more free from this passion than I, for I neither love nor regard it: albeit the world hath vndertaken, as it were vpon covenant, to grace it with a particular fa­vour. Therewith they adorne age, vertue, and conscience. Oh foolish and base orna­ment! The Italians have more properly with it's name entitled malignitie: for, it is a quali­tie ever hurtfull, ever sottis [...]; and as ever base and coward, the Stoikes inhibit their Elders and Sages to be therewith tainted, or have any feeling of it. But the Storie saith; that Psamne [...]icus king of Aegypt, hauing been defeated and taken by Cambises king of Persia, seeing his owne daughter passe before him in base and vile aray, being sent to draw water from a well, his friends weeping & wailing about him (he with his eies fixed on the ground, could not be mooved to vtter one word) and shortly after beholding his sonne led to exe­cution, held still the same vndaunted countenance: but perceiving a familiar friend of his haled amongst the captives, he began to beat his head, and burst forth into extreame sorrow. This might well be compared to that which one of our Princes was lately seene to doe, who being at Trent, and receiving newes of his elder brothers death; but such a bro­ther as on him lay all the burthen and honour of his house; and shortly after tidings of his yonger brothers decease, who was his second hope; and having with an vnmatched coun­tenance and exemplar constancie endured these two affronts; it fortuned not long after, that one of his servants dying, he by this latter accident suffered himselfe to be so far tran­sported, that quitting and forgetting his former resolution, he so abandoned himselfe to all maner of sorrow and griefe, that some argued, only this last mischance had toucht him to the quicke: but verily the reason was, that being otherwise full, and over plunged in sor­row, the least surcharge brake the bounds and barres of patience. The like might (I say) be judged of our storie, were it not it followeth, that Cambises inquiring of Psamneticus, why he was nothing distempered at the misfortune of his sonne and daughter, he did so im­patiently beare the disaster of his friend: It is, answered he, Because this last displeasure may be manifested by weeping, whereas the two former exceede by much, all meanes and compasse to bee expressed by teares. The invention of that ancient Painter might happily fitte this purpose, who in the sacrifice of Iphigenia, being to represent the griefe of the by-stan­ders, [Page 4] according to the qualitie and interest each one bare for the death of so faire, so yong and innocent a Lady, having ransacked the vtmost skill and effects of his art, when he came to the Virgins father, as if no countenance were able to represent that degree of sorrow, he drew him with availe over his face. And that is the reason why our Poets faine miserable Niobe, who first having lost seaven sonnes, and immediately as many daughters, as one o­ver-burthened with their losses, to have beene transformed into a stone;

Thereby to expresse this mournfull silent stupiditie, which so doth pierce vs, when acci­dents surpassing our strength orewhelme vs. Verily the violence of a griefe, being extreame, must needs astonie the mind, & hinder the liberty of her actions. As it hapneth at the sudden alarum of some bad tidings, when wee shall feele ourselves surprised, benummed, and as it were deprived of al motion, so that the soule bursting afterward forth into teares and com­plaints, seemeth at more ease and libertie, to loose, to cleare and dilate it selfe.

In the warres which king Ferdinando made against the widow of Iohn king of Hungaria, about Buda; a man at armes was particularly noted of all men, forsomuch as in a certaine skirmish he had shewed exceeding prowesse of his body, and though vnknowne, beeing slaine, was highly commended and much bemoaned of all: but yet of none so greatly as of a Germane Lord, called Raisciac, as he that was amased at so rare vertue: his body being re­covered and had off, this Lord, led by a common curiositie, drew neere vnto it, to see who it might be, and having caused him to be disarmed, perceived him to be his owne sonne; which knowne, did greatly augment the compassion of all the camp: he only without fra­ming word, or closing his eyes, but earnestly viewing the dead body of his sonne, stood still vpright, till the vehemencie of his sad sorrow, having suppressed and choaked his vi­tall spirits, fell'd him starke dead to the ground.

say those Lovers that would liuely represent an into lerable passion.

Nor is it in the liveliest, and most ardent heat of the fit, that wee are able to display our plaints and perswasions, the soule being then aggravated with heavie thoughts, and the bo­dy suppressed and languishing for love. And thence is sometimes engendered that casuall faintnes, which so vnseasonably surpriseth passionate Lovers, and that chilnesse, which by the power of an extreame heate doth seize on them in the verie midst of their joy and en­joying. All passions that may be tasted and digested, are but meane and slight.

[Page 5] ‘Curae leues loquuntur, ingentes stupent. S [...]n Hip. act. 2. Scena 2.’

The surprize of an vnexpected pleasure astonieth vs alike.

Besides the Romane Ladie, that died for joy to see her sonne returne alive from the bat­tell of Cannae Sophocles and Dionysius the Tyrant, who deceased through over-gladnes: and Talua, who died in Corsica, reading the newes of the honours the Roman Senate had con­ferred vpon him: It is reported that in our age, Pope Leo the tenth, having received adver­tisement of the taking of the Citie of Millane, which he had so exceedingly desired, entred into such excesse of joy, that he fell into an ague, whereof he shortly died. And for a more authenticall testimonie of humane imbecillitie, it is noted by our Ancients, that Diodorus the Logician, beeing surprized with an extreame passion or apprehension of shame, fell downe starke dead, because neither in his Schoole, nor in publique, he had been able to re­solve an argument propounded vnto him. I am little subject to these violent passions. I have naturally a hard apprehension, which by discourse I daily harden more and more.

The third Chapter.

THose which still accuse men for ever gaping after future things, and go about to teach vs, to take hold of present fortunes, and settle our selves vpon them, as having no hold of that which is to come; yea much lesse than we have of that which is already past, touch and are ever harping vpon the commonest humane error, if they dare call that an error, to which Nature hir selfe, for the service of the continuation of hir worke, doth addresse vs, im­printing (as it doth many others) this false imagination in vs, as more jealous of our actions, than of our knowledge. We are never in our selves, but beyond. Feare, desire, and hope, draw vs ever towards that which is to come, and remove our sense and consideration from that which is, to amuse vs on that which shall be, yea when we shall be no more. ‘Calamito­sus est animus futuri anxius. A minde in suspense what is to come, is in a pittifull case.’ Sen. epi. 98.

This notable precept is often all eaged in Plato. ‘ Follow thy businesse and know thy selfe; Each of these two members, doth generally imply all our duty; and likewise enfolds his com­panion.’ He that should do his businesse, might perceive that his first lesson is, to know what he is, and what is convenient for him. And he that knoweth himselfe, takes no more anothers matters for his owne, but above all other things, loveth and correcteth himselfe, rejecteth superfluous occupations, idle imaginations, and vnprofitable propo­sitions. As if you grant follie what it desireth, it will no-whit be satisfied; so is wisedome con­tent with that which is present, and never displeased with it selfe. Epicurus doth dispense with his age touching the foresight and care of what shall insue. Amongst the lawes that regard the deceased, that which ties the actions of Princes to be examined when they are dead, seemes to me verie solide. They are companions, if not masters of the lawes: That which justice could not work on their heads, it is reason it effect vpon their reputation, and goods of their successors: things wee many times preferre before our lives. It is a custome brings many singular commodities vnto nations that observe it, and to be desired of all good Princes: who have cause to complaine that the memorie of the wicked is vsed as theirs. Wee owe a [Page 6] like obedience and subjection to all Kings; for it respects their office: but estimation and af­fection, wee owe it only to their vertue. If they be unworthie, wee are to endure them pati­ently, to conceale their vices, and to aid their indifferent actions with our commendations, as long as their authoritie hath need of our assistance, and that ought to be ascribed unto poli­tike order. But our commerce with them being ended, there is no reason we should refuse the unfolding of our felt wrongs vnto justice and our libertie. And specially to refuse good sub­jects, the glory to have reverently and faithfully served a master, whose imperfections were so well knowne unto them: exempting posteritie from so profitable an example. And such as for the respect of some private benefite or interest do wickedly imbrace the memorie of an vnwoorthie Prince, doe particular justice at the charge of publike justice. Titus Liuius speaketh truely, where he saith, that the speech of men brought up under a royaltie is ever full of vaine ostentations, and false witnesses: every man indifferently extolling the king, to the furthest straine of valour and Soveraigne greatnesse. The magnanimitie of those two Souldiers, may bee reproved, one of which being demaunded of Nero, why he hated him, answered him to his teeth; I loved thee whilest thou wast worthie of love, but since thou be­camest a parricide, a fir-brand, a juglar, a player, and a Coach-man, I hate thee, as thou deservest. The other being asked, wherefore he sought to kill him; answered, Because I find no other course to hinder thy uncessant outrages and impious deedes. But can any man, that hath his senses about him, justly reproove the publike and generall testimonies, that since his death, have bin given, and so snall be for ever, both against him and all such like re­probates, of his tyrannicall and wicked demeanors? I am sorie that in so sacred a pollicie as the Lacedemonian was, so fained and fond a ceremonie at the death of their kings was ever devised and brought in use. All their confederates and neighbours, all the slave-Heotes, men and women pell-mell, for a testimonie of their griefe and sorrow did mangle and gash their foreheads; and in their out-cries, and lamentations, exclaimed, that their deceased king, howsoever he had lived, was and had bin the best Prince that ever they had, ascribing in or­der the commendations due unto desert, and to the last and latter ranke, what belongs un­to the first merite. Aristotle that hath an oare in every water, and medleth with all things, makes a question, about Solons speech, who saith, that no man can truely be counted happy before his death, Whether he that lived and died according to his wish may be named hap­py, Whether his renowne be good or ill, and whether his posteritie be miserable or no. Whilest we stirre and remove, we transport our selves by preoccupation wheresoever we list: But no sooner are we out of being, but we have no communication at all with that which is. And it were better to tell Solon, that never man is happy then, since he never is so, but when he is no more.

Bertrand of Gelsquin died at the siege of the castle of Rancon, neere vnto Puy in Auergne: the besieged yeelding afterward, were forced to carrie the keies of the Castle, vpon the de­ceased body of the Captaine. Bartholomew of Alviano, Generall of the Venetian forces dy­ing in their service and wars about Brescia, and his body being to be transported to Venice, through the territorie of Verona, which then was enemie vnto them, the greatest part of the armie thought it expedient to demand a safe conduct for their passage of those of Verona, to which Theodoro Trivulcio stoutly opposed himselfe, and chose rather to passe it by maine force, and to hazard the day, saying it was not convenient, that he who in his life time had never apprehended feare of his enemies should now being dead, seeme to feare them. Ve­rily in like matters, by the lawes of Greece, he that required a dead bodie of his enemies, with intent to burie the same, renounced the victory, and might no more erect any trophie of it: and he who was so required, purchased the title of honour and gaine. So did Nicias [Page 7] loose the advantage he had clearely gained of the Corinthians; and contrariwise, Agesilaus, assured that, he doubtfully had gotten of the Boetians. These actions might be deemed strange, if in all ages it were not a common-received opinion, not only to extend the care of our selves, beyond this life, but also to believe, that heavenly favours to often accompanie vs vnto our grave, and continue in our posteritie. Whereof there are so many examples (lea­ving our moderne a part) that I need not wade farre into it.

Edward the first king of England, in the long warres he had with Robert King of Scotland, having by triall found how greatly his presence advantaged the successe of his affaires, and how he was ever victorious in any enterprise he vndertooke in his owne person; when he died, bound his sonne by solemne oth, that being dead he should cause his body to be boi­led, vntill the flesh fell from the bones, which he should cause to be enterred, and carefully keeping the bones, ever carrie them about him, whensoever he should happen to have wars with the Scots: As if destenie had fatally annexed the victorie vnto his limmes. Iohn Zisca; who for the defense of Wickliffs opinions so much troubled the state of Bohemia, comman­ded that after his death his body should be flead, and a drum made of his skin, to be carried and sounded in all the wars against his enemies: deeming the sound of it would be a meanes to continue the advantages, which in his former warres he had obtained of them. Certaine Indians did likewise carry the bones of one of their Captaines in the skirmishes they had with the Spaniards, in regard of the good successe he had, whilest he lived, had against them: And other nations of that new-found world, do likewise carrie the bodies of such worthie and fortunate men with them, as have died in their battels, to serve them in stead of good fortune and encouragement. The first examples reserve nothing else in their tombes, but the reputation acquired by their former atchievements: but these will also adjoine un­to it the power of working. The act of Captaine Bayart is of better composition, who perceiving himselfe deadly wounded by a shot received in his body, being by his men per­swaded to come off and retire himselfe from out the throng, answered, he would not now so neere his end, begin to turne his face from his enemie: and having stowtly foughten so long as he could stand, feeling himselfe to faint and stagger from his horse, commanded his steward to lay him against a tree, but in such sort, that he might die with his face toward the enemie; as indeed he did. I may not omit this other example, as remarkeable for this con­sideration, as any of the precedent. The Emperour Maximilian, great grand-father to Phillip, now King of Spaine, was a Prince highly endowed with many notable qualities, and amongst others with a well-nigh matchlesse beautie and comelinesse of body; but with other customes of his, he had this one much contrarie to other Princes, who to dispatch their waightiest affaires make often their close stoole, their regale Throne or Councel-chamber, which was, that he would not permit any groome of his chamber (were he never so neere about him) to see him in his inner-chamber, who if he had occasion but to make water, wold as nicely and as religiously withdraw himselfe as any maiden, and never suffer so much as a Physitian, much lesse any other whatsoever, to see those privie parts that all in modestie seeke to keepe secret and vnseene. My selfe, that am so broad-mouthed and lavish in spea­ches, am notwithstanding naturally touched with that bashfulnesse. And vnlesse it be by the motion of necessitie or of voluptuousnesse, I never willingly imparted those actions and parts (which custome willeth to be concealed) to the view of any creature. I endure more compulsion, then I deeme befitting a man, especially of my profession. But he grew to such superstition, that by expresse words in his last will and testament, he comman­ded, that being dead, he should have linnen-slops put about them. He should by codicile have anexed vnto it, that he who should put them on, might have his eies hood-winckt. The instruction which Cyrus giveth his children, that neither they nor any other should either see or touch his body, after the breath were once out of it; I ascribe it unto some mo­tive of devotion in him. For both his historian and himselfe, amongst many other notable qualities they are endued with, have throughout all the course of their life seemed to have a singular respect and awfull reverence vnto religion. That storie displeased me very much, which a noble man told me of a kinsman of mine (a man very famous & well knowne both in peace and warre) which is, that dying verie aged in his court, being much tormented with extreame pangs of the stone, he with an earnest and vnwearied care, emploied all his last houres, to dispose the honor and ceremonie of his funerals, and summoned all the nobilitie [Page 8] that came to visit him to give him assured promise to be as assistants, and to convay him to his last resting place. To the very same Prince, who was with him at his last gasp, he made ve­rie earnest sute, he would command all his houshold to wait vpon him at his interrement, en­forcing many reasons, and all eaging divers examples, to prove that it was a thing very conve­nient, and fitting a man of his qualitie: which assured promise when he had obtained, & had at his pleasure marshalled the order how they should march, he seemed quietly and contentedly to yeeld vp the ghost. I have seldome seene a vanitie continue so long. This other curiositie meere opposite vnto it (which to prove I need not labor for home-examples) seemeth in my opinion cosin-german to this that is, when one is ever readie to breathe his last, carefully and passionately to endevor, how to reduce the convoy of his obsequies vnto some particular & vnwonted parcimonie, to one servant and to one lanterne: I heare the humor and appoint­ment of Marcus Aemilius Lepidus commended, who expresly forbade his heires to vse those ceremonies about his interrement, which in such cases were formerly accustomed: Is it tem­perance and frugalitie, to avoid charge and voluptuousnes, the vse and knowledge of which is inperceptable vnto vs? Lo here an easie reformation and of small cost. Were it requisite to appoint any, I would be of opinion, that as well in that, as in all other actions of mans life, e­very man should referre the rule of it to the qualitie of his fortune. And the Philosopher Ly­con did wisely appoint his friends to place his body, where they should thinke it fittest and for the best: and for his obsequies, they should neither be superfluous and over-costly, nor base and sparing. For my part, I would wholy relie on custome, which should dispose this ceremo­nie, and would yeeld my selfe to the discretion of the first or next, ‘into whose hands I might chance to fall. Totus hic locus est contemnendus in nobis, non negligendus in nostris. All this matter should be despised of vs, but not neglected of ours. And religiously said a holy man: Curatio funeris, Iustini. ci [...] dei. l. 1. c. 12. verb. apost. ser. 32. conditio sepulturae, pompa exequiarum, magis sunt vivorum solatia, quam subsidia mortuorum. The procuration of funerals, the manner of buriall, the pomp of obsequies, are rather comforts to the living, than helpes to the dead.’ Therefore Socrates answered Criton, who at the houre of his death, as­ked him, how he would be buried: Even as you please, said he: were I to meddle further with this subject, I would deeme it more gallant, to imitate those who yet living and breathing, vndertake to enjoy the order and honour of their sepulchres, and that please themselves to behold their dead countenance in Marble. Happy they that can rejoyce and gratifie their senses with insensibilitie, and live by their death! A little thing would make me conceive an inexpiable hatred against all popular domination; although it seeme most naturall and just vnto me: when I call to minde that inhumane injustice of the Athenians, who with­out further triall or remission, yea without suffering them so much as to reply or answere for themselves, condemned those noble and worthy captaines, that returned victoriously from the sea-battell, which they (neere the Iles Arginusae) had gained of the Lacedemonians; the most contested, bloudie, and greatest fight the Graecians ever obtained by sea with their owne forces: forsomuch as after the victorie, they had rather followed those occasions, which the law of warre presented vnto them, for their availe, than to their prejudice staid to gather and burie their dead men. And the successe of Diomedon makes their ruthlesse execution more hatefull, who beeing a man of notable and exemplar vertue, both militarie and politike, and of them so cruelly condemned; after he had heard the bloudie sentence, advauncing himselfe forward to speake, having fit opportunitie and plausible audience; he, I say, in stead of excusing himselfe, or endevouring to justifie his cause, or to exaspe­rate the evident iniquitie of so cruell a doome, expressed but a care of the Iudges preserva­tion, earnestly beseeching the Gods to turne that judgement to their good, praying that for want of not satisfying the vowes, which he and his companions had vowed in acknowledge­ment and thanksgiving for so famous a victorie, and honourable fortune, they might not draw the wrath and revenge of the Gods vpon them, declaring what their vowes were. And without more words, or vrging further reasons, couragiously addressed himselfe to his execution. But fortune some yeares after punished him alike, and made him taste of the very same sauce. For Chabrias, Captaine Generall of their sea-fleet, having afterward obtai­ned a famous victorie of Pollis, Admirall of Sparta, in the Ile of Naxos, lost absolutely the benefit of it, and only contented with the day (a matter of great consequence for their af­faires) fearing to incurre the mischiefe of this example, and to save a few dead carcasses of his friends, that floated vp and downe the sea, gave leasure to an infinite number of his [Page 9] living enemies, whom he might easily haue surprized, to saile away in safetie, who afterward made them to purchase their importunate superstition, at a deere-deere rate.

This other restores the sense of rest vnto a bodie without a soule. Cic. Tusc. qu. lib. 1. E [...].

Even as Nature makes vs to see, that many dead things, have yet certaine secret relations vnto life. Wine doth alter and change in sellers, according to the changes and alterations of the seasons of it's vineyard. And the flesh of wilde beastes and venison doth change qualitie and taste in the powdering-tubbes, according to the nature of living flesh, as some say that have observed it.

The fourth Chapter.

A Gentleman of ours exceedingly subject to the gowt, being instantly solicited by his Physitions, to leave all manner of salt-meates, was woont to answer pleasantly, that when the fittes or pangs of the disease tooke him, hee would have some body to quarell with; and that crying and cursing, now against Bolonie-sausege, and sometimes by railing against salt neats-tongues, and gammons of bakon, he found some ease. But in good ear­inest even as the arme being lifted vp to strike, if the stroke hit not, but fall voide, wee feele some paine in it, and many times strike it out of joynt; and that to yeeld our sight pleasant, [...] must not be lost and dispiersed in the vast ayre, but ought rather to have a limited bound to sustaine it by a reasonable distance.

So seemes it that the soule moved and tossed, if she have not some hold to take, loo­seth it selfe in it selfe, and must ever be stored with some obiect, on which it may light and worke. Plutarch saith fitly of those who affectionate themselves to Monkies and little Dogges, that the loving part which is in vs, for want of a lawfull hold, rather than it will be idle, doth forge a false and frivolous hold vnto it selfe. And wee see that the soule in her passions doth rather deceive itselfe, by framing a false and fantasticall subiect vnto itselfe, yea against her owne conceit, than not to worke vpon something. So doth their owne rage transport beastes, to set vpon the stone or weapon that hath hurt them; yea and sometimes with irefull teeth to revenge themselves against themselues, for the hurt or smart they feele.

[Page 10]What causes doe wee not invent, for the crosses that happen vnto vs? bee it right, or wrong: what take we not hold of, to have something to strive withall? It is not the golden locks thou tearest, nor the whitenesse of the breast, which thou through vexation so cruelly dost smite, that have by meanes of an vnluckie bullet, lost thy deere-beloved brother: on something else shouldest thou wreake thy selfe. Liuius speaking of the Romane army in Liu. di [...]. 3. lib. 5. Spaine, after the losse of two great Captaines that were brethren. Flere omnes repente, & of­fensare capita: They all wept and often beat their heades. It is an ordinarie custome: And the Philosopher Byon, was very pleasant with the king, that for griefe tore his haire, when he said, Doth this man thinke, that baldnesse will asswage his griefe? who hath not seene some to chew and swallow cardes, and wel-nigh choake themselves with bales of dice, only to be re­venged for the losse of some money? Xerxes whipped the Sea, and writ a cartell of defiance to the hill Athos: And Cyrus for many daies together ammused his whole armie to be reven­ged of the river Gyndus, for the feare he tooke passing over the same: And Caligula caused a verie faire house to be defaced, for the pleasure his mother had received in the same. When I was yong, my countrimen were wont to say, That one of our neighbour-Kings, hauing received a blow at Gods hand, sware to be revenged on him, and ordained, that for tenne yeares space no man should pray vnto him, nor speake of him, not so long as he were in authoritie, believe in him. By which report, they do not so much publish the sottishnesse, as the ambitious glorie, peculiar vnto that nation of whom it was spoken. They are vices that ever goe togither: But in truth such actions encline rather vnto selfe-conceit, than to fondnes. Augustus Caesar having been beaten by a tempest on the sea, defied the God Neptune, and in the celebration of the Circen­sian games, that so he might be avenged on him, he caused his image to be remooved from­out the place, where it stood amongst the other Gods; wherein he is also lesse excusable, than the former, and lesse than hee was afterward, when having lost a battell, vnder Quintilius Varus in Germanie, all in a rage and desperate, he went vp and downe beating his head against the walls, mainly crying out: Oh! Varus, restore me my Souldiers againe: For, those exceede all follie, (forsomuch as impietie is joyned vnto it) that will wreake themselves against God, or fortune, as if she had eares subject to our batterie: In imitation of the Thracians, who when it lightens or thunders, begin with a Titanian revenge to shoote against heaven, thin­king by shooting of arrowes to draw God to some reason. Now, as saith that ancient Poet in Plutarch.

But we shall never raile inough against the disorder and vnrulinesse of our minde.

The fifth Chapter.

LƲcius Marcius Legate of the Romans, in the warre against Perseus King of Macedon, de­sirous to get so much time, as he wanted to prepare his army, gave out some motives of accord, wherewith the King inveagled, yeelded vnto a truce for certaine daies: by which meanes he furnished his enemie with opportunitie & leasure to arme himselfe: whereof pro­ceeded the Kings last ruine and ouer-throw. Yet is it, that the elders of the Senate, mindfull of their fore-fathers customes, condemned this practise as an enemie to their ancient pro­ceedings, which was, said they▪ to fight with vertue, and not with craft, nor by surprises, or stratagems by night, nor by set-flights, and vnlookt-for approches, never vndertaking a warre, but after it was proclaimed, yea many times after the appointed houre and place of the battell. With this conscience did they send backe to Pirrhus his traitorous Physitian, and [Page 11] to the Phalis [...]i their disloiall schoole-master. These were true Romane proceedings, and not Grecian pollicies, nor Punike wiles, with whom to vanquish by force is lesse glorious than to conquer by trecherie. To deceive may serve for the instant, but hee onely is judged to be overcome, that knowes he was not vanquished by craft or deceit, nor by fortune or chance, but by meere valour, betweene troupe and troupe, in an overt and just warre. It appeareth manifestly by the speech of these good men, they had not yet received this sentence.

The Achaians, saith Polibius, detested all manner of deceit in their warres, deeming that no victorie, where their enemies courages were not quelled. ‘Eam vir sanctus, & sapiens sciat esse victoriam veram, quae salua fide, & integra dignitate parabitur. A wise and religious man will know that is victorie indeed, which shall be attained with credit vnimpeached, and dignitie vn­tainted, saith another.’

In the Kingdome of Ternates, among those nations, which wee so full-mouthed, call Barbarous, the custome beareth, that they never vndertake a warre, before the same be de­nounced; thereunto adding an ample declaration of the meanes they have to employ there­in, what manner, and how many men, what munition, and what Armes either offensive or defensive: which done, they also establish as a law, that without reproch or imputati­on, it shall be lawfull for any man, in their warres, to vse what advantage soever, may in any sort further or helpe them to vanquish. The ancient Florentines were so far from de­siring any advantage of their enemies by sudden surprises, that a moneth before they could bring their Armie into the field, they would give them warning, by the continuall sound of their common bell, which they called Mar [...]nella. As for vs, who are lesse superstitious, and deeme him to have the honour of the warre, that hath the profit of it, and according to Lisander, say, that Where the Lions-skinne will not suffice, wee must adde a scantling of the Foxes; the most ordinarie occasions of surprises are drawne from this practise, and as wee say, there is no time, wherein a Captaine ought to be more warie and circumspect to looke about him, than that of parlies, and treaties of accord: And therefore is it a common rule in the mouth of all our modern men of warre, that the Gouernour or Commaunder of a besieged place, ought never to sallie forth himselfe to parlie. In the time of our forefa­thers, the same was cast in the teeth, (as a reproach) vnto the Lord of Montmor [...] and Assig­ni, who defended Mou [...], against the Earle of Nanseaw. Yet in this case it were excusable in him, that should so sallie out, that the assurance and advantage, might still be on his side. As did the Earle Gu [...]o R [...]ngom in the Citie of Reggio (if credit may be given to Bellay: for Guicci [...] affirmeth, that it was himselfe) when as the Lord of Escute, comming to parlie made his approaches vnto it; for he did so little forsake his fort that whilest they were in par­lie, a commotion being raised, the Lord of Escute and the troupes which came with him, in that tumult found himselfe to be the weakest, so that Alexander Trivultio was there slaine, and hee deeming it the safest way, was forced to follow the Earle, and on his word to yeeld himselfe to the mercie and shelter of blowes, into the Citie. Eumenes in the Citie of No­ra, being vrged by Antigonus, that besieged him, to sallie forth to parlie, alleaging that there was reason he should come to him, sith he was the better man, and the stronger: after he had made this noble answere, I will never thinke any man better than my selfe, so long as I can hold or rule my sword; nor did he ever yeeld vntill Antigonus had delivered him Ptolomey, his owne nephew for a pledge, whom he required. Yet shall wee see some to have prospered well in sallying foorth of their holdes to parlie, vpon the word and honor of the assailant; witnes Henrie of Vaulx, a knight of Champaigne, who being beleagred by the English-men in the Castle of Commercie, and Bartholmew of Bones, who at that siege commaunded as Chiefe, having caused the greatest part of the Castle to be vndermined, so that there wanted nothing but the giving of fire, vtterly to subvert the same, vnder the ruines of it, summoned the said Henrie to issue out, and for his owne good to parlie with him, which he did, accompanied [Page 12] but with three more, who manifestly seeing the evident ruine, wherein he was vndoubted­ly like to fall, acknowledged himself infinitely beholding to his enemie, vnto whose discre­tion, after he had yeelded togither with his troup, and that fire was given to the Mine, the maine props of the Castle failing, it was vtterly overthrowne and carried away. I am easily perswaded to yeeld to other mens words and faith, but hardly would I do it, when I should give other men cause to imagine, that I had rather done it through dispaire and want of cou­rage, than of a free and voluntary choise, and confidence in his honestie and well-meaning.

The sixth Chapter.

NOtwithstanding I saw lately, that those of Musidan, a place not farre from mee, who with others of their partie, were by our forces compelled to dislodge thence, exclai­med, they were betraid, because during the speech of accord, and the treatie yet continuing, they had beene surprized and defeated; which thing might happily, in other ages have had some apparence of truth; but, as I say, our manner of proceeding in such cases, is altogether differing from these rules, and no man ought to expect performance of promise from an e­nemie, except the last seale of bond be fully annexed thereunto, wherein notwithstan­ding is then much care and vigilancie required, and much adoe shall be found. And it was e­ver a dangerous counsell to trust the performance of word or othe given vnto a Citie, that yeelds vnto gentle and favourable composition, and in that furie to give the needie, blood­thirstie, and pray-greedy Souldier free entrance into it, vnto the free choise and licence of a victorious armie. Lucius Aemilius Regillus a Romane Praetor, having lost his time in attempting by force to take the Citie of the Phocens by reason of the singular prowesse, which the inhabitants shewed, in stoutly defending themselves, covenanted to receive them as friends vnto the people of Rome, and to enter their Citie as a place confederate, remooving all feare of hostile-action from them. But to the end hee might appeare more glorious, and dreadfull, having caused his armie to enter with him, do what he might, he could not bridle the rage of his Souldiers; and with his owne eies saw most part of the Citie ransacked and spoiled: ‘the rights of covetousnesse and revenge supplanting those of his authoritie and militarie discipline. ( Cleomenes was woont to say, that What hurt soever a man might doe his enemies in time of warre, was beyond iustice, and not subiect vnto it, as well towards the Gods as towards men:’ who for seaven dayes having made truce with those of Argos, the third night, whilest they were all asleepe mistrusting no harme, hee charged and over­threw them, alleaging for his excuse, that in the truce no mention had bin made of nights.) But the Gods left not his perfidious policie vnrevenged: For during their enter-parlie and businesse about taking hostages, the Citie of Casilinum was by surprise taken from him: which happened in the times of the justest Captaines, and of the most perfect Romane discipline: For it is not said, that time and place serving, wee must not make vse and take advantage of our enemies foolish oversight, as we do of their cowardise. And verily warre hath naturally many reasonable priviledges to the prejudice of reason. ‘And here failes the rule. Neminem id agere, vt ex alterins praedetur inscitia. That no man should indeuour to Cic. Offic. lib 3. pray vpon another mans ignorance.’ But I wonder of the scope that Xenophon allowes them, both by his discourse, and by diverse exploits of his perfect Emperour: an Author of wonderfull consequence in such things, as a great Captaine and a Philosopher, and one of Socrates chiefest Disciples, nor do I altogether yeeld vnto the measure of his dispensation. The Lord of Aubigny besieging Capua, after he had given it a furious batterie, the Lord Fa­britius Colonna, Captaine of the towne, having from vnder a bas [...]ion or skonce begunne to parlie, and his men growing negligent and carelesse in their offices and guarde, our men did suddenly take the advantage offered them, entered the towne, over-ranne it, and put all to the sworde. But to come to later examples, yea in our memorie, the Lord Iulio Romero at [Page 13] Yvoy, having committed this oversight to issue out of his holde, to parlie with the Con­stable of France, at his returne found the Towne taken, and himselfe jack-out-of-doores. But that wee may not passe vnrevenged, the Marques of Pescara beleagering Genova, where Duke Octavian Fregoso, commanded vnder our protection, and an accord between them having so long been treated, and earnestly solicited, that it was held as ratified, and vp­on the point of conclusion, the Spaniards being entred the Towne, and seeing themselves the stronger, tooke their opportunitie, and vsed it as a full and compleate victorie: and since at Lygny in Barroe, where the Earle of Brienne commanded, the Emperour having besie­ged him in person, and Bartholemy Lieutenant to the saide Earle being come foorth of his hold to parlie, was no sooner out, whilest they were disputing, but the Towne was surpri­sed, and he excluded, They say,

But the Philosopher Chrysippus would not have beene of that opinion; nor I neither, for he was woont to say, That those who runne for the masterie may well employ all their strength to make speede, but it is not lawfull for them to lay handes on their adversaries, to stay him, or to crosse legges, to make him trip or fall. And more generously answered Alexander the great, at what time Polypercon perswaded him to vse the benefit of the advantage which the darkenesse of the night afforded him, to charge Darius; No no, said hee, it fittes not mee to Curt. lib. 4. hunt after night-stolne victories: Malo me fortunae poeniteat, quàm victoriae pudeat. I had ra­ther repent me of my fortune, than be ashamed of my victorie.

The seuenth Chapter.

THE common saying is, that Death acquits vs of all our bondes. I know some that have taken it in another sence. Henry the seventh, King of England made a composi­tion with Philip sonne to Maximilian the Emperour, or to give him a more honorable title, father to the Emperour Charles the fift, that the said Philip should deliver into his hands, the Duke of Suffolke, his mortall enemie, who was fled out of England, and saved himselfe in the Low countries, alwaies provided the King should attempt nothing against the Dukes life; which promise notwithstanding, being neere his end, he expresly by will and testament commanded his succeeding-sonne, that immediately after his decease, he should cause him to be put to death. In the late tragedie, which the Duke of Alva presented vs withall at Brus­sels, on the Earles of Horne and Egmond, were many remarkeable things, and woorthie to be noted: and amongst others, that the said Count Egmond, vpon whose faithfull word and assurance, the Earle of Horne was come in & yeelded himselfe to the Duke of Alva, required verie instantly to be first put to death, to the end his death might acquit and free him of the word and bond, which he ought and was engaged for, to the saide Earle of Horne. It see­meth that death hath no whit discharged the former of his worde giuen, and that the se­cond, [Page 14] without dying, was quit of it. We cannot be tied beyond our strength, and meanes. The reason is, because the effects and executions, are not any way in our power, and except our will, nothing is truely in our power: on it onely are all the rules of mans dutie grounded and established by necessitie. And therefore Count Egmond, deeming his minde and will indebted to his promise, howbeit the power to effect it, lay not in his hands, was no doubt cleerely absolved of his debt and dutie, although he had survived the Count Horne. But the King of England failing of his word by his intention, cannot be excused, though hee delaide the execution of his disloyaltie vntill after his death. No more then Herodotus his Mason who during his naturall life, having faithfully kept the secret of his Master the King of Ae­gypts treasure when he died, discovered the same vnto his children. I have in my daies seene many convicted by their owne conscience, for detaining other mens goods, yet by their last will and testament to dispose themselves, after their decease to make satisfaction. This is nothing to the purpose. Neither to take time for a matter so vrgent, nor with so small in­terest or shew of feeling, to goe about to establish an injurie. They are indebted somewhat more. And by how much more they pay incommodiously and chargeably, so much the more just and meritorious is their satisfaction. Penitence ought to charge, yet doe they worse, who reserve the revealing of some heinous conceit or affection towards their neigh­bour, to their last will and affection, having whilest they lived ever kept it secret. And seeme to have little regard of their owne honour, by provoking the partie offended against their owne memory, and lesse of their conscience, since they could never for the respect of death cancell their ill-grudging affection, and in extending life beyond theirs. Oh wicked and vngodly judges, which referre the judgement of a cause to such time as they have no more knowledge of causes! I will as neere as I can prevent, that my death reveale or vtter any thing, my life hath not first publikely spoken.

The eight Chapter.

‘AS we see some idle-fallow grounds, if they be fat and fertile, to bring foorth store & sun­drie roots of wilde and vnprofitable weedes, and that to keepe them in vrewe must sub­ject and imploy them with certaine seedes for our vse and service. And as wee see some women, though single and alone, often to bring foorth lumps of shapelesse flesh, whereas to produce a perfect and naturall generation, they must be manured with another kinde of seede: So is it of mindes, which except they be busied about some subject, that may bridle and keepe them vnder, they will here and there wildely scatter themselves through the vaste field of imaginations.’

And there is no folly, or extravagant raving, they produce not in that agitation. Hor. art. po [...]t. 7.

‘—veluti agrisomnia, van [...] Finguntur species.’

The minde that hath no fixed bound, will easily loose it selfe: For, as we say, To be everie where, is to be no where.

‘Quisquis vbique habitat, Maxime, [...]squam habitat.’ Mars. lib. 7. [...]pi. 72. 6.

It is not long since I retired my selfe unto mine owne house, with full purpose, as much as lay in me, not to trouble my selfe with any businesse, but solitarily, and quietly to weare out the remainder of my well-nigh-spent life; where me thought I could doe my spirit no grea­ter favour, than to give him the full scope of idlenesse, and entertaine him as he best pleased, and withall, to settle him-selfe as he best liked: which I hoped he might now, being by time become more setled and ripe, accomplish very easily: but I finde,

‘Variam semper dant otia mentem.’ Luca. lib. 4. 704

That contrariwise playing the skittish and loose-broken jade, he takes a hundred times more cariere and libertie unto himselfe, than hee did for others, and begets in me so many extravagant Chimeraes, and fantasticall monsters, so orderlesse, and without any reason, one hudling upon an other, that at-leasure to view the foolishnesse and monstrous strangenesse of them, I have begun to keepe a register of them, hoping, if I liue, one day to make him ashamed, and blush at himselfe.

The ninth Chapter.

THere is no man living, whom it may lesse beseeme to speake of memorie, than my­selfe, for to say truth, I have none at all: and am fully perswaded that no-mans can-be so weake and forgetfull as mine. All other parts are in me common and vile, but touching me­morie, I thinke to carrie the prise from all-other, that have it weakest, nay and to gaine the re­putation of it, besides the naturall want I endure (for truely considering the necessitie of it, Plato hath reason to name it A great and mighty Goddesse) In my countrie, if a man will imply that one hath no sense, he will say, such a one hath no memorie: and when I complaine of mine, they reprove me & will not beleeve me, as if I accused my-selfe to be mad & sencelesse. They make no difference betweene memorie & wit; which is an empairing of my market: But they doe me wrong, for contrariwise, it is commonly seene by experience, that excellent memories do rather accompany weake judgements. Moreover they wrong me in this (who can do nothing so well as to be a perfect friend) that the same words which accuse my infirmi­tie, represent ingratitude. From my affection they take hold of my memorie, & of a naturall defect, they infer a want of judgement or conscience. Some wil say, he hath forgotten this en­treaty, or request, or that promise, he is not mindfull of his old friends, he never remembred to say, or doe, or conceale this or that, for my sake. Verily I may easily forget, but to neglect the charge my friend hath committed to my trust, I never do it. Let them beare with my in­firmitie, and not conclude it to be a kind of malice; which is so contrarie an enemie to my hu­mor. Yet am I somewhat comforted. First, because it is an evill, from which I have chieflie drawne the reason to correct a worse mischiefe, that would easily have growen vpon me: that is to say, ambition; which defect is intolerable in them that meddlewith wordly negotiati­ons. For as divers like examples of natures progresse, say, she hath happily strengthned other faculties in me, according as it hath growne weaker and weaker in me, and I should easily lay downe and wire-draw my minde and judgement, upon other mens traces, without exercising their proper forces, if by the benefit of memorie, forren inventions & strange opinions were present with me. That my speech is thereby shorter: For the Magazin of Memorie, is per­adventure more stored with matter, than is the store-house of Invention. Had it held out with me, I had ere this wearied all my friends with pratling: the subjects rouzing the meane facultie I have to manage and imploy them, strengthning and wresting my discourses. It is pitie; I have assaied by the trial of som of my private friends: according as their memory hath ministred them a whole and perfect matter, who recoile their narration so farre-backe, and [Page 16] stuff-it with so many vaine circumstances, that if the story be good, they smoother the good­nesse of it: if bad, you must needs either curse the good fortune of their memorie, or blame the misfortune of their judgement. And it is no easie matter, being in the midst of the ca­riere of a discourse, to stop cunningly, to make a sudden period, and to cut-it-off. And there is nothing whereby the cleane strength of a horse is more knowne, than to make a rea­die and cleane stop. Among the skilfull I see some, that strive, but can not stay their race. Whilest they labour to finde the point to stop their course, they stagger and falter, as men that faint through weakenesse. Above all, old men are dangerous, who have onely the me­morie of things past left them, and have lost the remembrance of their repetitions. I have heard some very pleasant reports become most irkesome and tedious in the mouth of a cer­taine Lord, forsomuch as all the by-standers had many times beene cloyed with them. Se­condly, (as said an ancient Writer) that, I doe not so much remember iniuries receiued. I had need have a prompter as Darius had, who not to forget the wrong he had received of the Athenians, whensoever he sate downe at his table, caused a page to sing unto him, Sir, re­member the Athenians, and that the places or bookes which I read-over, ‘do ever smile upon me, with some new noveltie. It is not without reason, mensay, that he who hath not a good and readie memorie, should never meddle with telling of lies, and feare to become a liar.’ I am not ignorant how the Grammarians make a difference betweene speaking vntrue and ly­ing; and say that to speake vntruly, is to speake that which is false, but was reputed true; and that the definition of the Latin word, mentiri, whence the French word, mentir, is derived, which in English is to lie, implieth and meaneth to go against ones conscience: and by con­sequence it concerneth onely those, who speake contrary to that which they know, of whom I speake. Now these, either invent, seale, stampe and all, or else they disguise and change a true ground. When they disguise or change, if they be often put to the repetition of one thing, it is hard for them to keepe still in one path, and very strange if they lose not them­selves: because the thing, as it is, having first taken vp her stand in the memory, and there by the way of knowledge and witting, imprinted it-selfe, it were hard it should not represent itselfe to the imagination, displacing and supplanting falshood, which therein can have no such footing, or setled fastnesse: and that the circumstances of the first learning, still di­ving into the minde, should not cause it to disperse the remembrance of all false or ba­stardizing parts gotten together. Where they altogether invent, forsomuch as there is no certaine impression, to front their falshood, they seeme to have so much the lesser feare to mistake or forget themselves, which also notwithstanding being an airie bodie, and with­out hold-fast may easily escape the memorie, except it be well assured: whereof I have of­ten (to my no small pleasure) seene the experience, at the cost of those, who professe ne­ver to frame their speech, but as best shall fit the affaires they negotiate, and as best shall please the great men they speake vnto. For the circumstances to which they will subject their credit and conscience, being subject to many changes, their speech must likewise di­versifie and change with them, whence it followeth that of one selfe-same subject they speak diversly, as now yellow, now gray, to one man thus, and thus to another. And if perad­venture these kind of men hoard-up their so contrarie instructions, what becomes of this goodly arte? Who besides, often most foolishly forget themselves, and runne at randon: For, what memorie shall suffice them, to remember so many different formes they have framed to one same subject? I have in my daies seene divers that have envied the reputati­on of this woorthy kind of wisedome, who perceive not, that if there be a reputation, ‘there can be no effect. Verily, lying is an ill and detestablevice. Nothing makes vs men, & no other meanes, keeps vs bound one to another, but our word; knew we but the horror and waight of it, we would with fire and sword pursue and hate the same, and more justly than any other crime.’ I see all men generally busied (and that verie improperly) to punish certaine innocent errours in children, which have neither impression nor con­sequence, and chastice and vex them for rash and fond actions. Onely lying, and stub­bornesse somewhat more, are the faults whose birth and progresse I would have severely punished and cut off; for they grow and encrease with them: and if the tongue have once gotten this ill habit, good Lord how hard, nay how impossible it is to make her leave it? whereby it ensueth, that we see many very honest men in other matters, to be subject and enthralled to that fault. I have a good lad to my tailour, whom I never heard speak a truth; [Page 17] no not when it might stand him in stead of profit. If a lie had no more faces but one, as truth hath; we should be in farre better termes then we are: For, whatsoever a li [...]r should say, we would take [...] in a contrarie sense. But the opposite of truth hath many many shapes, and an vnd [...]nite field. The Pythagoreans make good to be certaine and [...]nite, and evill to be [...] and vncertaine. A thousand by-waies misse the marke, one onely hits the-same. Surely I can never assure my selfe to come to a good end, to warrant an extreame and evi­dent danger, by a shamelesse and solemnelie.

An ancient Father saith, We are better in the companie of a knowne dogge, ‘ than in a mans so­cietie, whose speech is vnknowne to vs. Ʋ [...] externus al [...]ono non si [...] hominis vice. A stranger to a P [...]n. [...]a [...]. hist. l 7. c. 1. stra [...]g [...] not [...]ake a man. And how much is a false speech lesse sociable than silence?’ King Francis the first, vaunted himselfe to have by this meanes brought Francis Taverna, Ambas­sador to Francis S [...]orz [...], Duke of Millane to a non plus; a man very famous for his rare elo­quence, and facilitie in speech, who had beene dispatched to excuse his master, toward his Majestie, of a matter of great importance, which was this. The King to keepe ever some intelligence in Italy, whence he had lately beene expelled, but especially in the Dukedome of M [...]ane, thought it expedient to entertaine a Gentleman of his about the Duke; in ef­fect as his Ambassador, but in apparance as a private man; who should make shew to re­side there about his particular affaires, forsomuch as the Duke, who depended much more of the Emperour (chiefely then that he was treating a mariage with his niece, daughter of the King of Denmarke, who is at this day Dowager of Loraine) could not without great prejudice vnto himselfe discover to have any correspondencie and conference with vs. For which commission and purpose a Gentleman of Millane, named Merveille, then ser­ving the King in place of one of the Quiers of his Quierie, was deemed [...]t. This man be­ing dispached with secret letters of credence, and instructions of an Ambassador, together with other letters of commendation to the Duke in savour of his particular affaires, as a maske and pretence of his proceedings, continued so long about the Duke, that the Empe­rour began to have some suspition of him; which as we suppose was cause of what ensued, which was, that vnder colour of a murther committed, the Duke one night caused the s [...]d Merveille to be beheaded, having ended his processe in two daies. Master Francis b [...]ng come to the Court, fraught with a long counterfet deduction of this s [...]orie (for the King had addressed himselfe to all the Princes of Christendome, yea and to the Duke him­selfe for justice, for such an outrage committed vpon his servant) had one morning au­dience in the Kings councell-chamber: who for the foundation of his cause having esta­blished and to that end projected many goodly and colourable apparences of the fact: namely, that the Duke his master, had never taken Merveille for other then a private gentle­man, and his owne subject, and who was come thither about his private busines, where he had never lived vnder other name, protesting he had never knowne him to be one of the Kings houshold, nor never heard of him, much lesse taken him for his Majesties Agent. But the King vrging him with divers objections and demands, and charging him on every side, pr [...]st [...]im so farre with the execution done by night, and as it were by stealth, that the [...]eely man, being much entangled and suddenly surprised, as if he would set an innocent face on the matter, answered, that for the love and respect of his Majestie, the Duke his Master, would have beene very loth that such an execution should have beene done by day. Heere every man may guesse whether he were taken short or no, having tripped before so goodly a [...] as was that of our King Francis the first. Pope Iulius the second, having sent an Am­bassador to the King of England to animate him against our foresaid King: the Ambassa­dor having had audience touching his charge, and the King in his answer vrging and in­sisting vpon the difficultie he found & foresaw in levying such convenient forces, as should be required to withstand so mightie, and set vpon so puisant a King, and alleaging certaine pe [...]ment reasons: The Ambassador fondly and vn [...]itly replied, that him-selfe had long be­fore maturely considered them, and had told the Pope of them. By which answer so farre from his proposition (which was with all speed, & without more circumstances to vndertake and vngergoe a dangerous warre) the King of England tooke hold of the first argument which in effect he afterward found true, which was, that the said Ambassador, in his owne particular intent, was more affected to the French side, whereof advertising his master, his goods were all con [...]iscate, himselfe disgraced, and he very hardly escaped with life.

The tenth Chapter.

One ne furent à tous toutes graces donnes.

So doe we see that in the gift of eloquence, some have such a facility and promptitude, and that which we call vtterance, so easie and at command, that at all assaies, and vpon everie occasion, they are ready and provided; and others more slow, never speake any thing except much laboured and premeditated. As Ladies and daintie Dames are taught rules to take re­creations and bodily exercises, according to the advantage of what they have fairest about them. If I were to give the like counsel, in those two different advantages of eloquence where­of Preachers and pleading lawiers of our age seeme to make profession; the slowe speaker in mine opinion should be the better preacher, and the other the better lawier. For somuch as charge of the first allowes-him as much leisure as he pleaseth to prepare him-selfe; moreover his cariere continueth still in one kinde without interruption: whereas the Lawyers oc­casions vrging him still vpon any accident to be ready to enter the lists: and the vnexpe­cted replies & answers of his advers partie, do often divert him from his purpose, where he is enforced to take a new course. Yet is-it, that at the last enter-view which was at Marseilles be­tweene Pope Clemens the seventh, and Francis the first, our King, it hapned cleane-contrarie, where Monsieur Poyet, a man of chiefe reputation & all daies of his life brought vp to plead at the bar, whose charge being to make an Oration before the Pope, and having long time before premeditated and con'd the same by roat, yea, & as some report, brought it with him ready-penned from Paris; the very same day it should have beene pronounced; the Pope su­specting he might happily speake something, might offend the other Princes Ambassadors, that were about him, sent the argument, which he at that time and place thought fittest to be treated of, to the king, but by fortune cleane contrarie to that which Poyet, had so much stu­died for: So that his Oration was altogether frustrate, and he must presently frame another. But he perceiving himselfe vnable for-it, the Cardinall Bellay was faineto supply his place and take that charge vpon him. The Lawyers charge is much harder than the Preachers: (yet in mine opinion) shall we find more passable Lawyers then commendable Preachers at least in France. It seemeth to be more proper to the mind, to have her operation ready & sud­den, and more incident to the judgement, to have it slow and considerate. But who remaineth mute, if he have no leisure to prepare himselfe, and he likewise to whom leisure giveth no ad­vantage to say better, are both in one selfe degree of strangenesse. It is reported that Seuerus Cassius spake better extempore, and without premeditation. That he was more beholding to fortune, then to his diligence; that to be interrupted in his speech redounded to his profit: & that his adversaries feared to vrge-him, lest his sudden anger should redouble his eloquence. I know this condition of nature by experience, which can-not abide a vehement and labori­ous premeditation: except it hold a free, a voluntarie, and selfe-pleasing course, it can never come to a good end. We commonly say of some compositions, that they smell of the oile, & of the lampe, by reason of a certaine harshnesse, and rudenesse, which long plodding labour imprints in them that be much elaborated. But besides the care of well-doing, and the con­tention of the minde, over-stretched to her enterprise, doth breake and impeach the-same; even as it hapneth vnto water, which being closely pent-in, through it's owne violence and abundance, can not finde issue at an open gullet. In this condition of nature, whereof I now speake, this also is ioyned vnto it, that it desireth not to be pricked forward by these strong passions, as the anger of Cassius (for that motion would be over-rude) it ought not to be vio­lently shaken, but yeeldingly solicited: it desireth to be rouzed and prickt forward by strange occasions, both present and casuall. If it goe all-alone, it doth but languish and loyter behinde: agitation is her life and grace. I cannot well containe my selfe in mine owne possession and disposition, chaunce hath more interest in it than my selfe; occasion, com­pany, yea the change of my voice, drawes more from my minde than I can finde therein, when by my selfe I second and endevor to employ the same. My words likewise are better [Page 19] than my writings, if choise may be had in so woorthlesse things. This also hapneth vnto me, that where I seeke my selfe, I finde not my selfe: and I finde my selfe more by chaunce, than by the search of mine owne judgement. I shall perhaps have cast-foorth some suttle­tie in writing, happily dull and harsh for another, but sinooth and curious for my selfe. Let vs leave all these complements and quaintnesse. That is spoken by everie man, according to his owne strength. I have so lost it, that I wot not what I would have said, and stran­gers have sometimes found it before me. Had I alwaies a razor about me, where that hap­neth, I should cleane raze my selfe out. Fortune may at some other time make the light thereof appeare brighter vnto me, than that of mid-day, and will make mee woonder at mine owne faltring or sticking in the myre.

The eleuenth Chapter.

As touching Oracles it is very certaine, that long before the comming of our Sauiour Iesus Christ, they had begun to loose their credit: for we see that Cicero laboureth Ci [...]. diuin. lib. 2. to finde the cause of their declination: and these be his words: ‘Cur isto modo iam oracula Delphis non eduntur non modo nostra aetate, sediamdiu, vt nihil possit esse contemptius? Why in like sort are not Oracles now vttered, not onely in our times, but a good while since, so as now nothing can be more contemptible? But as for other Prognostikes, that were drawne from the anato­mie of beasts in sacrifice,’ to which Plato doth in some sort ascribe the naturall constitution of the internall members of them, of the scraping of chickins, of the flght of birds, ‘Aues quas­dam Id. nat. deo [...]. rerum augurandarum causa natas esse putamus. We are of opinion, certain birds were even bred to prognosticate some things; of thunders, of turnings and backe-recourse of rivers. Multa cer­nunt Id. ib. l. [...]. aruspices: multa augures provident: multa oraculis declarantur: multa vaticinationibus: multa s [...]nnijs: multa portentis. Soothsayers see much: bird-prophets foore-see as much: much is foretold by Oracles; much by prophesies; much by dreames; much by portentuous signes, and others, vpon which antiquitie grounded most of their enterprises, as well publike as private: our religion hath abolished them.’ And albeit there remaine yet amongst vs some meanes of divination in the starres, in spirits, in shapes of the body, in dreames, and elsewhere a nota­ble example of the mad and found curiositie of our nature, ammusing it selfe to preoccupate future things, as if it had not enough to doe to digest the present. Luca [...]. lib. 2. 4.

Ne vtile quidem est scire quid futurum sit: Miserum est enim nihil preficientem angi. ‘It is not Cic. nat. Deor. lib. 3. so much as profitable for vs, to know what is to come, for it is a miserable thing, a man should fret and be vexed, and do no good.’ Yet is it of much lesse authoritie, loe here wherefore the example of Francis Marquis of Saluzzo hath seemed remarkeable vnto me: who being Lieutenant Generall vnto Francis our King, and over all his forces, which he then had beyond the Mountaines in Italie, a man highly favoured in al our court, and otherwise infinitly behold­ing to the King for that very Marquisate, which his brother had forfeited: and having no occasion to doe it, yea and his minde and affections contradicting the same, suffered him­selfe to be frighted and deluded (as it hath since been manifestly prooved) by the fond pro­gnostications, which then throughout all Europe were given out to the advantage of the [Page 20] Emperor Charles the fift, and to our prejudice and disadvantage (but specially in Italy, where these foolish praedictions had so much possessed the Italians, that in Rome were laid great wagers, and much money given out vpon the exchange, that we should vtterly be over­throwne) that after he had much condoled, yea and complained with his secret friends, the vnavoidable miseries, which he foresaw prepared by the fates against the Crowne of France, and the many friends he had there, he vnkindly revolted, and became a turne-cote on the Emperors [...]de, to his intolerable losse and destruction, notwithstanding all the con­stellations then raigning. But was drawne vnto it as a man encompassed and beset by divers passions; for having both strong castles, and all maner of munition and strength in his own hands, the enemies armie vnder Antonio L [...]va about three paces from him, and we no­thing mistrusting him, it was in his power to do worse than he did. For notwithstanding his treason we lost neither man nor towne, except Fossan: which long after was by vs stoutly contested and defended.

And those which take this word in a contrary sense are in the wrong. ‘Ista sic reciprocantur, Cic. divi. l. 1. [...]. vt & si diuinatio sit, dij sint: & dij sint, sit diuinatio. This consequence is so reciprocall, as if there be any divination, there are Goddes: and if there be Gods, there is divination. Much more wisely Pacuvius.’

This so famous arte of divination of the Tuskanes grew thus. A husband-man digging very deepe into the ground, with his plough-share, saw Tages, a demy-God appeare out of it, with an infantine face, yet fraught with an aged-like wisedome. All men ranne to see-him, and both his words and knowledge were for many ages-after remembred, and collected, containing the principles and meanes of this arte. An of-spring sutable to her progresse. I would rather direct affaires by the chance of dice, then by such frivolous dreames. And truely in all common-wealthes, men have ever ascribed much authoritie vnto lot. Plate in the policie which he imagineth by discretion, ascribeth the deciding of many important effects vnto it, and amongst other things would have marriages betweene the good to be contrived by lot. And giveth so large priviledges vnto this casuall election, that he ap­points the children proceeding from them to be brought vp in the countrie; and those borne of the bad to be banished and sent abroad. Notwithstanding if any of those so exi­led [Page 21] shall by fortune happen, whilest he is growing, to shew some good hope of him-selfe, that he may be revoked and sent-for backe, and such amongst the first as shall in their youth give small hope of future good to be banished. I see some that studie, plod, and glosse their Almanackes, and in all accidents alleage their authoritie. A man were as good to say, they must needs speake truth and lies. ‘Quis est enim qui totum diem iaculans, non aliquando con­lineet? Cic. diu. lib. 2. For who is he that shooting all day, sometimes hits not the white? I thinke not the better of them,’ though what they say proove sometimes true. It were more certaine, if there were ei­ther a rule or a truth to lie ever. Seeing no man recordeth their fables, because they are or­dinarie and infinit; and their praedictions are made to be of credit, because they are rare, in­credible and prodigious. So answered Diagoras surnamed the Atheist (being in Samothrace) to him, who in shewing him divers vowes and offrings hanging in the Temple, brought thi­ther by such as had escaped shipwracke, said thus vnto him: You that thinke the Gods to have no care of humane things, what say you by so many men saved by their grace and helpe? Thus is it done, answered he: Those which were drowned farre exceeding their number, are not here set-forth. Cicero saith, That amongst all other Philosophers that have avowed & acknowledged the Gods, on­ly Xenophanes, the Colophonian hath gone about to root out all maner of divination. It is so much the lesse to bewondred at, if at any time we have seene some of our Princes mindes to their great damage, relie vpon such like vanities. I would to God, I had with mine owne eies seene those two wonders, mentioned in the booke of Ioachin the Abbat of Calabria, who foretold all the Popes that should ensue, together with their names and shapes: And that of Leo the Empe­ror, who fore-spake all the Emperors and Patriarkes of Greece. This have I seene with mine owne eies, that in publike confusions, men amazed at their owne fortune, give themselves head-long, as it were to all maner of superstition, to search in heaven the causes and ancient threats of their ill-lucke; and in my time are so strangely successefull therein, as they have perswaded me, that it is an ammusing of sharpe and idle wits, that such as are inured to this subtletie, by folding and vnfolding them, may in all other writings be capable to finde out what they seeke-after. But above all, their darke, ambiguous, fantasticall, and propheticall gi­brish, mends the matter much, to which their authors never give a plaine sense, that posterity may apply what meaning and construction it shall please vnto it. The Daemon of Socrates was peradventure a certaine impulsion or will, which without the advice of his discourse presen­ted it selfe vnto him. In a minde so well purified, and by continuall exercise of wisedome and vertue so wel prepared, as his was, it is likely, his inclinations (though rash and inconsiderate) were ever of great moment, and woorthie to be followed. Every man feeleth in himselfe some image of such agitations, of a prompt, vehement and casuall opinion. It is in me to give them some authoritie, that affoord so little to our wisedome. And I have had some, equally weake in reason, and violent in perswasion and disswasion (which was more ordinarie to So­crates) by which I have so happily and so profitably suffred my selfe to be transported, as they might perhaps be thought to containe some matter of divine inspiration.

The twelfth Chapter.

The law of resolution and constancie implieth not, we should not, as-much as lieth in our power shelter our selves from the mischiefes and inconveniences that threaten-vs, nor by consequence feare, they should surprise-vs. Contrariwise, all honest meanes for a man to warrant him-selfe from evils, are not onely tolerable, but commendable. And the part of constancie is chiefly acted, in firmely bearing the inconveniences, against which no remedie is to be sound. So that, there is no nimblenesse of bodie, nor wealding of hand­weapons, that we will reject, if it may in any sort defend-vs from the blow, meant at-vs. Many most warlike nations in their conflicts and fights, vsed retreating and flight as a prin­cipall advantage, and shewed their backs to their enemie much more dangerously than their faces. The Turkes at this day retaine something of that humour. And Socrates in Plato doth mocke at Laches, because he had defined fortitude, to keepe her-selfe steadie in [Page 22] her rancke against her enemies; What, saith hee, were it then cowardise to beate them in gi­ving them place? And alleadgeth Homer against him, who commendeth in Aencas his skill in flying and giving ground. And because Laches being better advised, avoweth that cu­stome to be amongst the Scithians, and generally amongst all horsemen, he alleageth fur­ther unto him the example of the Lacedemonian footmen (a nation above all other vsed to fight on foote) who in the battell of Plateae, unable to open and to put to rowt the Persian Phalanx, advised themselves to scatter and put themselves backe, that so by the opinion of their flght, they might if they should pursue them, rush in upon them, and put that so combined-masse to rout. By which meanes they gained the victorie. Touching the Sci­thians, it is reported, that when Darius went to subdue them, he sent their King many re­prochfull speeches, for so much as hee ever saw him retire and giue ground before him, and to avoide the maine battell. To whom Indathirsez (for so was his name) answered, that, They did it not for feare of him, nor any other man living, but that it was the fashion of his nation to march thus: as having neither cities, nor houses, nor manured land to defend, or to feare their enemies should reape any commoditie by them. But if hee had so great a desire to feede on them, he might draw neerer to view the place of their ancient Sepulchers, and there hee should meete with whom to speake his belly-full. Notwithstanding when a man is once within reach of cannon-shot, and as it were point-blancke before them, as the fortune of warre doth diverse times bring men unto, it ill beseemeth a resolute minde to start-aside, or be daunted, at the threat of a shot, because by the violence and suddennesse thereof wee deeme it inevitable: and there are some, who by lifting up of a hand, or stooping their head, have sometimes given their fellowes cause of laughter: yet have we seene, that in the voyage, the Emperour Charles the fifth made against us in Provence, the Marquis of Gua­sto, being gone out to survay the citie of Arles, and shewne himselfe out of a winde-mill, vnder colour of which he was come somewhat neere the Towne, he was discovered by the Lord of Bonevall, and the Seneshall of Agenois, who were walking upon the Theatre Aux arenes (so called in French because it is full of sand) who shewing him to the Lord of Vil­liers, Commissarie of the Artillerie, he mounted a culvérin so levell, that had not the Mar­quis perceived the fire, and so started aside, it was constantly affirmed, hee had beene shot through the body. Likewise not many yeeres before, Lorence of Medicis, Duke of Ʋrbin, and father to the Queene-mother of France, besieging Mondolphe, a place in Italie, in the province name Vicariate, seeing fire given to a piece that stood upright upon him, stoo­ped his head, and well befell him that he plaide the ducke, for otherwise the bullet, which went right over, and within a litle of his head, had doubtlesse shot him through the paunch. But to say truth, I will never thinke these motions were made with discourse, for what judge­ment can you give of an aime, either high or low in a matter so sudden? It may rather be thought that fortune favoured their feare: and which an other time might as well bee a meane to make them fall into the cannons-mouth, as to avoid the same. I cannot chuse, if the cracke of a musket doe suddenly streeke mine eares, in a place where I least looke for it, but I must needs start at-it: which I have seene happen to men of better sort than my selfe. Nor doe the Stoickes meane, that the Soule of their wisest man in any sort resist the first visions and sudden fantasies, that surprise the same: but rather consent that, as it were unto a naturall subjection, he yeelds and shrinks unto the loud clattering and roare of heaven, or of some violent downefall; for example-sake, unto palenesse, and contraction. So likewise in other passions, alwaies provided, his opinion remaines safe and whole, and the situation of his reason, admit no tainting or alteration whatsoever: and hee no whit consent to his fright and sufferance. Touching the first part; the same hapneth to him, that is not wise, but farre otherwise concerning the second. For the impression of passions doth not remaine superficiall in him: but rather penetrates even into the secret of reason, infecting and corrupting the same. He judgeth according to them, and conformeth him­selfe to them. Consider precisely the state of the wise Stoicke:

The wise Peripatetike doth not exempt himselfe from perturbations of the mind, but doth moderate them.

The thirteenth Chapter.

THere is no subject so vaine, that deserveth not a place in this rapsodie. It were a notable discourtesie vnto our common rules, both towards an equall, but more toward a great person, not to meete with you in your house, if he have once warned you that he will come: And Margaret Queene of Navarre, was woont to say to this purpose, That it was a kinde of incivilitie in a gentleman, to depart from his house, as the fashion is, to meete with him that is com­ming to him, how worthy soever he be: and that it more agreeth with civilitie and respect, to stay for him at home, and there to entertaine him: except it were for feare the stranger should misse his way: and that it suffioeth to companie and waite vpon him, when he is going away againe. As for me, I oftentimes forget both these vaine offices; as one that endevoureth to abolish all maner of ceremonies in my house. Some will bee offended at it, what can I doe withall? I had rather offend a stranger once, then my selfe everie day; for it were a continuall sub­jection. To what end doe men avoid the servitude of Courts, and entertaine the same in their owne houses? Moreover it is a common rule in all assemblies, that hee who is the meaner man, commeth first to the place appointed, forsomuch as it belongs to the better man to be staid-for, and waited vpon by the other. Neverthelesse we saw that at the enterview, prepared at Merceilles betweene Pope Clement the seventh, and Francis the first, King of France, the King having appointed all necessatie preparations, went him-selfe out of the Towne, and gave the Pope two or three dayes-leasure, to make his en­trie into it, and to refresh himselfe, before he would come to meete him there. Likewise at the meeting of the said Pope with the Emperour at Bologna, the Emperour gave the Pope advantage and leasure to be first there, and afterward came himselfe. It is (say they) an ordinarie ceremonie at enterparlies betweene such Princes, that the better man should ever come first to the place appointed; yea before him in whose countrey the assembly is: and they take it in this sence, that it is, because this complement should testifie, he is the better man, whom the meaner goeth to seeke, and that hee sueth vnto him. Not only ech countrey, but every Citie, yea and every vocation hath his owne particular decorum. I have every carefully beene brought vp in mine infancie, and have lived in verie good com­pany, because I would not be ignorant of the good maners of our countrey of France, and I am perswaded I might keepe a scoole of them. I love to follow them, but not so co­wardly, as my life remaine thereby in subjection. They have some painefull formes in them, which if a man forget by discretion, and not by errour, he shall no whit be disgra­ced. I have often seene men proove vnmanerly by too much maners, and importunate by over-much curtesie. The knowledge of entertainment is otherwise a profitable knowledge. It is, as grace and beautie are, the reconciler of the first accoastings of society and familiarity: and by consequence, it openeth the entrance to instruct vs by the example of others, and to exploit and produce our example, if it have any instructing or communicable thing in it.

The fourteenth Chapter.

VAlour hath his limites, as other vertues have: which if a man out-go, he shall find himselfe in the traine of vice: in such sort, that vnlesse a man know their right bounds, which in truth are not on a sudden, easily hit vpon, he may fall into rashnesse, obstinacie, [Page 24] and folly. For this consideration grew the custome wee hold in warres, to punish, and that with death, those who wilfully opiniate themselves to defend a place, which by the rules of warre, cannot be kept. Otherwise vpon hope of impunitie, there should be no cotage, that might not entertaine an Armie. The Lord Constable Momorancie at the siege of Pavia, having beene appointed to passe over the river T [...]si [...]e, and to quarter himselfe in the suburbs of Saint Antonie, being impeached by a tower, that stood at the end of the bridge, and which obstinately would needes hold out, yea and to be battered, caused all those that were with-in it, to be hanged. The same man afterward, accompanying my Lord the Dolphin of France in his journey beyond the Alpes, having by force taken the castle of Villane, and all those that were within the same, having by the [...]urie of the Souldiers bin put to the sword, except the Captaine, and his Ancient, for the same reason, caused them both to be hanged and strangled: As did also, Captaine Martin du Bellay, the Governour of Turin, in the same countrey, the Captaine of Saint Bony: all the rest of his men ha­ving beene massacred at the taking of the place. But for somuch as the judgement of the strength or weakenesse of the place, is taken by the estimate and counterpoise of the forces that assaile it (for som man might justly opinionate himselfe against two culverins, that wold play the mad-man to expect thirtie cannons) where also the greatnesse of the Prince con­quering must be considered, his reputation, and the respect that is due vnto him: there is danger a man should somewhat bend the ballance on that side. By which termes it hapneth, that some have so great an opinion of themselves, and their meanes, and deeming it vnrea­sonable, any thing should be woorthie to make head against them, that so long as their for­tune continueth, they overpasse what hill or difficultie soever they finde to withstand or resist them: As is seene by the formes of sommonings, and challenges, that the Princes of the East, and their successors yet remaining have in vse, so fierce, so haughtie, and so full of a barbarous kinde of commandement. And in those places where the Portugales abated the pride of the Indians, they found some states observing this vniuersall and invio­lable law, that what enemie soever he be, that is overcome by the King in person, or by his Lieutenant, is exempted from all composition of ransome or mercie. So above all, a man who is able should take heed, lest he fall into the hands of an enemie-judge, that is victorious and armed.

The fifteenth Chapter.

I Have heretofore heard a Prince, who was a very great Captaine, hold opinion, that a souldier might not for cowardise of heart be condemned to death: who sitting at his table heard report of the Lord of Veruins sentence, who for yeelding vp of Bollein, was doomed to loose his head. Verily there is reason a man should make a difference betweene faultes proceeding from our weakenesse, and those that grow from our malice. For in the latter we are directly bandied against the rules of reason, which nature hath imprinted in vs; and in the former it seemeth, we may call the same nature, as a warrant, because it hath left-vs in such imperfection and defect. So as divers nations have judged, that no man should blame vs for any thing we doe against our conscience. And the opinion of those which condemne heretikes and miscreants vnto capitall punishments, is partly grounded vpon this rule: and the same which establisheth, that a Iudge or an advocate may not be called to account for any matter committed in their charge through oversight or ignorance. But touching cowardise, it is certain, the common fashion is, to punish the same with ignominie and shame. And some hold that this rule was first put in practise by the Law-giver Charondas, and that before him the lawes of Greece were woont to punish those with death, who for feare did runne away from a Battell: where he onely ordained, that for three daies together, clad in womens attire, they should be made to sit in the market-place: hoping yet to have some service at their hands, and by meanes of this reproch, they might recover their courage a­gaine. [Page 25] Suffundere malis hominis sanguinem quàm effundere: Rather moove a mans bloud to blush in his face, than remoove it by bleeding from his body.

It appeareth also that the Romane lawes did in former times punish such as had runaway, by death. For Animianus Marcellinus reporteth, that Iulian the Emperor condemned tenne of his Souldiers, who in a charge against the Parthians, had but turned their backes from it; first to be degraded, & then to suffer death, as he saith according to the ancient lawes, who ne­verthelesse, condemneth others for a like fault, vnder the ensigne of bag and baggage to be kept amongst the common prisoners. The sharp punishment of the Romanes against those Souldiers that escaped from Cannae: and in the same warre, against those that accompanied Ca. Fuluius in his defeate, reached not vnto death, yet may a man feare, such open shame may make them dispaire, and not only prove faint and cold friends, but cruell and sharp enemies. In the time of our forefathers, the Lord of Franget, Whilom Lieutenant of the Marshall of Chastillions companie, having by the Marshall of Chabanes been placed Gover­nor of Fontarabie, instead of the Earle of Lude, and having yeelded the same vnto the Spani­ards, was condemned to be degraded of all Nobilitie, and not only himselfe, but all his succe­ding posteritie declared villains and clownes, taxable and incapable to beare armes; which seuere sentence was put in execution at Lyons. The like punishment did afterward al the Gen­tlemen suffer, that were within Guise, when the Earle of Nansaw entred the town: and others since. Neuerthelesse if there were so grosse an ignorance, and so apparant cowardise, as that it should exceede all ordinarie, it were reason it should be taken for a sufficient proofe of inex­cusable treacherie, and knaverie, and for such to be punished.

The sixteenth Chapter.

IN all my trauels I did ever observe this custome, that is, alwaies to learne something by the communication of others (which is one of the bests schooles that may be) to reduce those I confer withall, to speake of that wherein they are most conversant and skilfull.

For commonly we see the contrary, that many chuse rather to discourse of any other trade than their own; supposing it to be so much new reputation gotten: witnes the quip Archida­mus gaue Periander saying that he forsooke the credit of a good Phisitian, to become a paltry Poet. Note but how Caesar displaieth his invention at large, when he would have vs conceive his inventions how to build bridges, and devises, how to frame other war-like engins; and in respect of that how close and succinct he writes, when he speaketh of the offices belonging to his profession, of his valour, and of the conduct of his warre-fare. His exploits prove him a most excellent Captain, but he would be known for a skilfull Ingenier, a qualitie somewhat strange in him. Dionysius the elder was a very great chieftaine and Leader in warre, as a thing best sitting his fortune: but he greatly labored, by meanes of Poetrie, to assume high com­mendation vnto himselfe, howbeit he had but little skill in it. A certain Lawier was not long since brought to see a studie, stored with all manner of bookes, both of his owne, and of all other faculties, wherein he found no occasion to entertaine himselfe withall, but like a fond cunning clarke earnestly busied himselfe to glosse and censure a fence or barricado, placed o­ver the screw of the studie, which a hundred Captaines and Souldiers see every day, without observing, or taking offence at them.

[Page 26]By this course you never come to perfection, or bring any thing to good passe. Thus must a man indevor to induce the Architect, the Painter, the Shoomaker to speake of their owne trade, and so of the rest, everie man in his vocation. And to this purpose am I wont, in reading of histories (which is the subject of most men) to consider who are the writers: If they be such as professe nothing but bare learning, the chiefe thing I learne in them, is their stile, and language: if Phisitians: I believe them in whatsoever they shall report concerning the temperatenesse of the aire, the health and complexion of Princes, or of hurts and infir­mities: If Lawiers, we should observe the controversies of rights, titles, and pretenses of lawes and customes, the establishments of policies, and such like things: If Divines, we may note the affaires of the Church, the Ecclesiasticall censures, dispensations, cases of conscience, and marriages: If Courtiers, maners, complements, ceremonies, and entertainements: if Warriors, what belongs vnto their charge, but chiefly the managing and conduct of the atchievements or exploits wherein they have bin themselves in person: If Ambassadors, the negotiations, intelligences, practises, pollicies, and maner how to direct, complot, and conduct them. And therefore, what in an other Writer I should peradventure have cursorie passed over, I have with some advisednesse considered and marked the same in the historie of the Lord of Lan­gey, a man most expert, and intelligent in such matters: which is, that after he had exactly set downe and declared those glorious, and farre-fetcht remonstrances of the Emperour Charles the fifth made in the consistorie of Rome, in the presence of the Bishop of Mascon, and the Lord of Velly, our Ambassadors; wherein he entermixed many bitter and outragious words against vs; and amongst others, that if his Captaines and Souldiers were not of much more faithfulnesse, and sufficiencie in the arte of warre, then our Kings, he would forthwith tie a rope about his neck, and go aske him mercie: whereof hee seemed to believe some thing: for afterward whilest he lived, he chanced twice or thrice to vtter the verie same words. Moreover, that he had challenged the king to fight with him, man to man in his shirt, with Rapier and Dagger in a boat. The said Lord of Langey, following his storie, addeth that the said Ambassadors making a dispatch of what had passed vnto the king, dissembled the chiefest part vnto him, yea and concealed the two precedent articles from him. Now me thought it very strange, that it should lie in the power of an Ambassadour to dispence with any point, concerning the advertisements he should give vnto his Master, namely of such consequence, comming from such a person, and spoken in so great an assembly, whereas me seemed it should have beene the office of a trustie servant, truely and exactly to set downe things as they were, and in what manner they had succeeded: to the end the libertie of disposing, judging and chusing, might wholie lie in the master. For, to alter and conceale the truth from him, for feare he should conster and take it otherwise than he ought, and le [...]t that might provoke him to some bad resolution; and in the meane while to suffer him to be ignorant of his owne affaires, me thought should rather have appertained to him, that giveth the law, than to him that receiveth the same; to the Master or over-seer of the schoole, and not to him who should thinke himselfe inferior, as well in authoritie, as in wise­dome and good counsell. Howsoever it were, I would be loath to be so vsed in mine owne small and particular busines, we do so willingly vpon every slight occasion and pretence neglect and forgo commandement, and are so farre from obeying, that we rather vsurp a kind of masterie, and free power: every man doth so naturally aspire vnto libertie and authoritie, that no profit ought to be so deare vnto a superiour, proceeding from those that serve him, as their simple and naturall obedience. Whosoever obeieth by discretion, and not by subjection, corrupteth and abuseth the office of commanding. And P. Crassus he whom the Romans deemed five times happy, when he was Consull in Asia, having sent a Graecian Inginer, to bring the greatest of two ship-masts before him, which he had seene in Athens, therewith to frame an engine of batterie: This man vnder colour of his skill, presumed to do otherwise than he was bidden, and brought the lesser of the two masts which according to his artes reason he deemed the fittest. Crassus having patiently heard his reasons and allegations, caused him to be well whipped; preferring the interest of true dis­cipline, before that of the worke. On the other side a man might also consider, that this so strict obedience, belongs but to precise and prefixed commandements. Ambassadors have a more scopefull and free charge, which in manie points dependeth chiefly of their disposi­tion. They do not meerely execute, but frame and direct by their owne advise and councell, [Page 27] the will of their Master. I have in my daies seene some persons of commandement, checked and found fa [...]lt withall, because they had rather obeied the literall sense, and bare words of the Kings letters, than the occasions of the affaires they had in hand. Men of vnderstand­ing and experience do yet at this day condemne the custome of the Kings of Persia, which was to mince the instructions given to their Agents, and Lieutenants so small, that in the least accident they might have recourse to their directions and ordinances: This delay, in so farre-reaching a scope of domination, having often brought great prejudice, and notable damage vnto their affaires. And Crassus writing vnto a man of that profession, and adver­tising him of the vse whereto he purposed the foresaid mast; seemeth he not to enter into conference with him concerning his determination, and wish him to enterpose his censure or advise of it.

The seventeenth Chapter.

I Am no good Naturalist (as they say) and I know not well by what springs feare doth worke in vs: but well I wot it is a strange passion: and as Physitians say, there is none doth sooner transport our judgement out of his due seat. Verily I have seene divers become madde and senselesse for feare: yea and in him, who is most setled, and best resolved, it is cer­taine that whilest his fitte continueth, it begetteth many strange dazelings, and terrible a­mazements in him. I omit to speake of the vulgar sort, to whom it sometimes repre­senteth strange apparitions, as their fathers and grandfathers ghosts, risen out of their graves, and in their winding sheetes: and to others it somtimes sheweth Larves, Hobgoblins Robbin­good-fellowes, and such other Bug-beares and Chimeraes. But even amongst Souldiers, with whom it ought to have no credit at all, how often hath she changed a flocke of sheep into a troupe of armed men? Bushes and shrubbes into men-at-armes and Lanciers? our friends into our enemies? and a red crosse into a white? At what time the Duke of Bour­bon tooke Rome, an Ancient that kept sentinell, in the borough Saint Peter, was at the first alarum surprised with such terror, that with his colours in his hand, he sodainly threw him­selfe through the hole of a breach out of the Citie, and fell just in the middest of his ene­mies, supposing the way to go straight in the hart of the Citie: but in the end, he no sooner perceived the Duke of Burbons troupes, advancing to withstand him, imagining it to be some sallie the Citizens made that way, he better be-thinking him-selfe, turned head, and the very same way, he came out, he went into the town againe, which was more than three hundred paces distance towards the fields. The like happened, but not so successefully vnto Captaine Iulius-his ensigne-bearer at what time Saint Paul was taken from vs by the Earle of Bures, and the Lord of Reu, who was so frighted with feare, that going about to cast him­selfe over the towne wals, with his Ancient in his hand, or to creepe through a spike-hole, he was cut in pieces by the assailants. At which siege likewise, that horror and feare is verie memorable, which so did choake, seize vpon, and freeze the hart of a gentleman, that having received no hurt at all, he fell downe starke-dead vpon the ground before the breach. The like passion rage doth sometimes possesse a whole multitude. In one of the encounters that Germanicus had with the Germanes, two mightie troupes were at one instant so frigh­ted with feare, that both betooke themselves to their heeles, and ranne away two contrary waies, the one right to that place whence the other fled. It sometimes addeth wings vnto our heeles, as vnto the first named, and other times it takes the vse of feete from vs: as we may reade if Theophilus the Emperour, who in a battell he lost against the Agarenes, was [Page 28] so amazed and astonied, that he could not resolve to scape away by flight: adeò pavor etiam auxilia formidat: Feare is so afraide even of that should help. Vntill such time as Manuel, one of the chiefe leaders in his armie, having rouzed and shaken him, as it were out of a dead sleepe, said vnto him, Sir, if you will not presently follow me, I will surely kill you, for better were it you should loose your life, than being taken prisoner, loose your Empire and all. Then doth she shew the vtmost of her power, when for her own service, she casts vs off vnto valour, which it hath exacted from our duty and honor. In the first set battell, the Romans lost against Hanibal, vnder the Consul Sempronius, a troupe of wel-nigh tenne thousand footemen, was so surpri­sed with feare, that seeing no other way to take, nor by what other course to give their basenes free passage, they headlong bent their flight toward the thickest and strongest squadron of their enemies, which with such furie it rowted and brake through, as it disranked, and slew a great number of the Carthaginians: purchasing a reprochfull and disgracefull flight, at the same rate it might have gained a most glorious victorie. It is feare I stand most in feare of. For, in sharpnesse it surmounteth all other accidents. What affection can be more violent and just than that of Pompeyes friends, who in his owne ship were spectators of that horrible massacre? yet is it, that the feare of the Aegyptian sailes, which began to approach them, did in such sort daunt and skare them, that some have noted, they only busied themselves to ha­sten the marriners, to make what speed they could, and by maine strength of oares to save themselves, vntill such time, as being arived at Tyre, and that they were free from feare, they had leasure to bethinke themselves, of their late losse, and give their plaints and teares free passage, which this other stronger passion had suspended and hindred.

Those who in any skir [...]ish or sudden bickering of warre have been throughly skared, sore-hurt, wounded, and gored as they be, are many times the next day after, brought to charge againe. But such as have conceived a true feare of their enemies, it is hard for you to make them looke them in the face againe. Such as are in continuall feare to loose their goods, to be banished, or to besubdued, live in vncessant agonie and languor; and thereby often loose both their drinking, their eating, and their rest. Whereas the poore, the banished, and seely servants, live often as carelessely and as pleasantly as the other. And so many men, who by the impatience and vrging of feare, have hanged, drowned, and head long tumbled downe from some rocke, have plainely taught vs, that feare is more importunate and intolerable then death. The Graecians acknowledge an other kinde of it, which is beyond the error of our discourse: proceeding, as they say, without any appa­rant cause, and from an heavenly impulsion. Whole Nations and Armies are often seene surprised with it. Such was that, which brought so wonderfull a desolation to Carthage, where nothing was heard but lamentable out-cries, and frightfull exclamations: the inha­bitants were seene desperately to runne out of their houses, as to a sudden alarum, and furi­ously to charge, hurt, and ent [...] ▪kill one another; as if they had beene enemies come to v­surpe and possesse their Citie. All things were there in a disordered confusion, and in a con­fused furie, vntill such time as by praiers and sacrifices, they had appeased the wrath of their Gods. They call it to this day, the Panike terror. [...]as. chil. 2. cent. 10. ad. 19. chil. 3. ce [...]. 7. ad. 3.

The eighteenth Chapter.

[Page 29]THe very children are acquainted with the storie of Croesus to this purpose: who being taken by Cyrus, & by him condemned to die, vpon the point of his execution, cried out aloude: Oh Solon, Solon! which words of his, being reported to Cyrus, who inquiring what he meant by them, tolde him, ‘hee now at his owne cost verified the advertisement Solon had before times given him: which was, that no man, what cheerefull & blandishing countenance soever fortune shewed them, may rightly deeme himselfe happie, till such time as he have passed the last day of his life, by reason of the vncertaintie and vicissitude of hu­mane things, which by a very light motive, and slight occasion, are often changed from one to another cleane contrary state and degree. And therefore Agesilaus answered one that counted the King of Persia happy,’ because being very yong, he had gotten the gar­land of so mightie and great a dominion: yea but said he, Priame at the same age was not vnhappy. Of the Kings of Macedon, that succeeded Alexander the great, some were after­ward seene to become Ioyners and Scriveners at Rome: and of Tirants of Sicilie, Schoole­masters at Corinth: One that had conquered halfe the world, and been Emperour over so many Armies, became an humble, and miserable suter to the raskally officers of a king of Aegypt: At so high a rate did that great Pompey purchase the irkesome prolonging of his life but for five or six moneths. And in our fathers daies, Lodowicke Sforce, tenth Duke of Millane, vnder whom the state of Italie had so long beene turmoiled and shaken, was seene to die a wretched prisoner at Loches in France, but not till he had lived and lingered ten yeares in thraldome, which was the worst of his bargaine. The fairest Queene, wife to the greatest King of Christendome, was she not lately seene to die by the hands of an execu­tioner? Oh vnworthie and barbarous crueltie! And a thousand such examples. For, it see­meth that as the sea-billowes and surging waves, rage and storme against the surly pride, and stubborne height of our buildings. So is there above, certain spirits that envie the rising pro­sperities and greatnesse heere below.

And it seemeth Fortune doth sometimes narrowly watch the last day of our life, thereby to shew her power, and in one moment to overthrow, what for many yeares together she had beene erecting, and makes vs crie after Laberius, Nimirum hac die vna plus vixi, mihi quàm vivendum fuit. Thus it is, I have lived longer by this one day, than I should. So may that good advise of Solon be taken with reason. But for somuch as hee is a Philosopher, with whom the favours or disfavours of fortune, and good or ill lucke have no place, and are not regarded by him; and puissances and greatnesses, and accidents of qualitie, are well nigh indifferent: I deeme it very likely he had a further reach, and meant that the same good fortune of our life, which dependeth of the tranquilitie and contentment of a wel­borne minde, and of the resolution and assurance of a well ordered soule, should never be ascribed vnto man, vntill he have beene seene play the last act of his comedie, and without doubt the hardest. In all the rest there may besome maske: either these sophisticall discour­ses of Philosophie are not in vs but by countenance, or accidents that never touch vs to the quick, give vs alwaies leasure to keep our countenance setled. But when that last part of death, and of our selves comes to be acted, then no dissembling will availe, then is it high time to speake plaine english, and put off all vizards: then whatsoever the pot containeth must be shewne, be it good or bad, foule or cleane, wine or water.

Loe heere, why at this last cast, all our lives other actions must be tride and touched. It is the master-day, the day that judgeth all others: it is the day, saith an auncient Wri­ter, [Page 30] that must judge of all my forepassed yeares. To death do I referre the essay of my stu­dies fruit. There shall wee see whether my discourse proceede from my heart, or from my mouth. I have seene divers, by their death, either in good or evill, give reputation, to all their forepassed life. Scipio, father in law to Pompey, in well dying, repaired the ill opinion, which vntill that houre men had ever held of him. Epaminondas being demanded, which of the three he esteemed most, either Chabrias, or Iphicrates, or himselfe; It is necessary, said he, that we be seene to die, before your question may well be resolved. Verily we should steale much from him, if he should be weighed without the honour and greatnesse of his end. God hath wil­led it, as he pleased: but in my time three of the most execrable persons, that ever I knew in all abomination of life, and the most infamous, have beene seen to die very orderly and qui­etly, and in every circumstance composed even vnto perfection. There are some brave and fortunate deaths. I have seene her cut the twine of some mans life, with a progresse of won­derfull advancement, and with so worthie an end, even in the flowre of his growth, and spring of his youth, that in mine opinion, his ambitious and haughtie couragious designes, thought nothing so high, as might interrupt them: who without going to the place where he preten­ded, arived there more gloriously and worthily, than either his desire or hope aimed at. And by his fall fore-went the power and name, whether by his course he aspired. When I judge of other mens lives, I ever respect, how they have behaved themselves in their end; and my chiefest study is, I may well demeane my selfe at my last gaspe, that is to say, quietly, and constantly.

The nineteenth Chapter.

CIcero saith, that to Philosophie is no other thing, than for a man to prepare himselfe to death: which is the reason, that studie and contemplation doth in some sort withdraw our soule from vs, and severally employ it from the body, which is a kind of apprentisage and resemblance of death; or else it is, that all the wisedome and discourse of the world, doth in the end resolve vpon this point, to teach vs, not to feare to die. Truely either reason mockes vs, or it only aimeth at our contentment, and in fine, bends all her trauell to make vs live wel, and as the holy Scripture saith, at our ease. All the opinions of the world conclude, that plea­sure is our end, how be it they take divers meanes vnto, and for it, else would men reject them at their first comming. For; who would giue eare vnto him, that for it's end would establish our paine and disturbance? The dissentions of philosophicall sects in this case, are verball: Transcurramus solertissimas nugas: Let vs runne over such over-fine fooleries, and subtill trifles. There is more wilfulnesse and wrangling among them, than pertaines to a sacred profession▪ But what person a man vndertakes to act, he doth ever therewithall personate his owne. Although they say, that in vertue it selfe, the last scope of our aime is voluptuousnes. It pleaseth me to importune their eares still with this word, which so much offends their hearing: And if it imply any chiefe pleasure or exceeding contentments, it is rather due to the assistance of vertue, than to any other supply, voluptuousnes being more strong, sin­nowie; sturdie, and manly, is but more seriously voluptuous. And we should give it the name of pleasure, more favorable, sweeter, and more naturall; and not terme it vigor, from which it hath his denomination. Should this baser sensuality deserue this faire name, it should be by competencie, and not by privilege. I finde it lesse voide of incommodities and crosses, than vertue. And besides that, her taste is more fleeting, momentarie, and fading, she hath her fasts, her eves, and her travels, and both sweate and blood. Furthermore she hath perticularly so many wounding passions and of so severall sorts, and so filthie and lothsome a societie wai­ting vpon her, that shee is equivalent to penitencie. Wee are in the wrong, to thinke her incommodities serve her as a provocation, & seasoning to her sweetnes, as in nature one con­trarie is vivified by another contrarie: and to say, when we come to vertue, that like successes and difficulties over-whelme it, and yeeld it austere and inaccessible. Where as much more [Page 31] properly then vnto voluptuousnes, they ennobled, sharpen, animate, and raise that divine and perfect pleasure, which it mediates and procureth vs. Truly he is verie vnworthie her ac­quaintance, that counter-ballanceth her cost to his fruit, and knowes neither the graces nor vse of it. Those who go about to instruct vs; how her pursuite is very hard and laborious, and her jovisance well pleasing and delightfull: what else tell they vs, but that shee is ever vnpleasant and irksome? For, what humane meane did ever attaine vnto an absolute en­joying of it? The perfectest have beene content but to aspire and approach her, without ever possessing her. But they are deceived; seeing that of all the pleasures we know, the pur­sute of them is pleasant. The enterprise is perceived by the qualitie of the thing, which it hath regard vnto: for it is a good portion of the effect, and consubstantiall. That happines and felicitie, which shineth in vertue, replenisheth her approaches and appurtenances, even vnto the first entrance and vtmost barre. Now of all the benefits of vertue, the contempt of death is the chiefest, a meane that furnisheth our life with an ease-full tranquillitie, and giues vs a pure and amiable taste of it: without which every other voluptuousnes is extinguished. Loe, here the reasons why all rules encounter and agree with this article. And albeit they all leade vs with a common accord to despise griefe, povertie, and other accidentall crosses, to which mans life is subject, it is not with an equall care: as well because accidents are not of such a necessitie, for most men passe their whole life without feeling any want or povertie, and other-some without feeling any griefe or sicknes, as Xenophilus the musitian, who lived a hun­dred and sixe yeares in perfect and continuall health: as also if the worst happen, death may at all times, and whensoever it shall please vs, cut off all other inconveniences, and cros­ses. But as for death, it is inevitable.

And by consequence, if she make vs affeard, it is a continuall subject of torment, and which can no way be eased. There is no starting-hole will hide vs from her, she will finde vs where­soever we are, we may as in a suspected countrie starte and turne heere and there: qua quasi Cic. fin. lib. 1. saxum Tantalo semper impendet: Which evermore hangs like the stone over the head of Tantalus: Our lawes doe often condemne and send malefactors to be executed in the same place where the crime was committed: to which whilest they are going, leade them along the fairest hou­ses, or entertaine them with the best cheere you can,

Doe you thinke they can take any pleasure in it? or be any thing delighted? and that the finall intent of their voiage being still before their eies, hath not altered and altogether di­stracted their taste from all these commodities and allurements?

The end of our cariere is death, it is the necessarie object of our aime: if it affright vs, how is it possible we should step one foote further without an ague? The remedie of the vulgar sort is, not to thinke on it. But from what brutall stupiditie may so grosse a blindnesse come vpon him? he must be made to bridle his Asse by the taile,

[Page 32] ‘Qui capite ipse suo instituit vest igia retro.’

It is no marvell if he be so often taken tripping; some doe no sooner heare the name of death spoken of, but they are afraid, yea the most part will crosse themselves, as if they heard the Divell named. And because mention is made of it in mens wils and testaments, I war­rant you there is none will set his hand to them, till the Physitian have given his last doome, and vtterly forsaken him. And God knowes, being then betweene such paine and feare, with what sound judgement they indure him. For so much as this sillable sounded so vn­pleasantly in their eares, and this voice seemed so ill-boding and vnluckie, the Romans had learned to allay and dilate the same by a Periphrasis. In liew of saying, he is dead, or he hath ended his daies, they would say, he hath lived. So it be life, be it past or no, they are com­forted: from whom we have borowed our phrases quondam, alias, or late such a one. It may happily be, as the common saying is, the time we live, is worth the mony we pay for it. I was borne betweene eleven of the clocke and noone, the last of Februarie 1533. according to our computation, the yeare beginning the first of Ianuarie. It is but a fortnight since I was 39. yeares old. I want at least as much more. If in the mean time I should trouble my thoughts with a matter so farre from me, it were but folly. But what? we see both young and olde to leave their life after one selfe-same condition. No man departs otherwise from it, than if he but now came to it, seeing there is no man so crazed, bedrell, or decrepite, so long as he remembers Met husalem, but thinkes he may yet live twentie yeares. Moreover, seely crea­ture as thou art, who hath limited the end of thy daies? Happily thou presumest vpon Phy­sitians reports. Rather consider the effect and experience. By the common course of things, long since thou livest by extraordinarie favour. Thou hast alreadie over-past the ordinarie tearmes of common life: And to prove it, remember but thy acquaintances and tell me how many more of them have died before they came to thy age, than have either attained or out­gone the same: yea and of those that through renoune have ennobled their life, if thou but register them, I will lay a wager, I will finde more that have died before they came to five and thirty yeares, than after. It is consonant with reason and pietie, to take example by the humanity of Iesus Christ, who ended his humane life at three and thirtie yeares. The greatest man that ever was being no more than a man, I meane Alexander the great, ended his dayes, and died also of that age. How many severall meanes and waies hath death to sur­prise vs.

Iomit to speake of agues and pleurisies; who would ever have imagined, that a Duke of Brittanie should have beene stifled to death in a throng of people, as Whilome was a neighbour of mine at Lyons, when Pope Clement made his entrance there? Hast thou not seene one of our late Kings slaine in the middest of his sportes? and one of his ancestors die miserably by the chocke of an hog? Eschilus fore-threatned by the fall of an house, when he stood most vpon his guard, strucken dead by the fall of a Tortoise shell, which fell out of the tallans of an Eagle flying in the aire? and another choaked with the kernell of a grape? And an Emperour die by the scratch of a combe, whilest he was combing his head: And Aemylius Lepidus with hitting his foote against a doore-seele? And Aufidius with stumbling against the Consull-Chamber doore as he was going in thereat? And Cornelius Gallus the Praetor, Tigillinus Captaine of the Romane watch, Lodowike sonne of Guido Gonzaga, Mar­quis of Mantua, end their daies betweene womens thighs? And of a farre worse example Speusippus the Plantonian Philosopher and one of our Popes? Poore Bebius a judge whilest he demurreth the sute of a plaintife but for eight daies, behold his last expired; And Caius Iulius a Physitian, whilest he was annointing the eies of one of his patients, to have his ownesight closed for ever by death. And if amongst these examples, I may adde one of a brother of mine, called Captaine Saint Martin, a man of three and twentie yeares of age, who had alreadie given good testimonie of his worth and forward valor, playing at tennis, received a blow with a ball, that hit him a little above the right care, without apparance of [Page 33] any contusion, bruse, or hurt, and never sitting or resting vpon it, died within six houres after of an Apoplexie, which the blow of the ball caused in him. These so frequent and ordinary examples, hapning, and being still before our eies, how is it possible for man to forgo or for­get the remembrance of death? and why should it not continually seeme vnto vs, that shee is still ready at hand to take vs by the throat? What matter is it, will you say vnto me, how and in what manner it is, so long as a man do not trouble and vex himselfe therewith? I am of this opinion, that howsoeuer a man may shrowd or hide himselfe from her dart, yea were it vnder an oxe-hide, I am not the man would shrinke backe: it sufficeth me to live at my ease; and the best recreation I can have, that do I evertake; in other matters, as little vainglori­ous, and exemplare as you list.

But it is folly to thinke that way to come vnto it. They come, they goe, they trot, they daunce: but no speech of death. All that is good sport. But if she be once come, and on a sudden and openly surprise, either them, their wiues, their children, or their friends, what torments, what out-cries, what rage, and what dispaire doth then overwhelme them? saw you ever any thing so drooping, so changed, and so distracted? A man must looke to it, and in better times fore-see it. And might that brutish carelessenesse lodge in the minde of a man of vnderstanding (which I find altogether impossible) she sels vs her ware at an over deere rate: were she an enemie by mans wit to be auoided, I would advise men to borrow the weapons of cowardlinesse: but since it may not be: and that be you either a coward or a runaway, an ho­nest or valiant man, she overtakes you,

And that no temper of cuirace may shield or defend you,

Let vs learne to stand, and combate her with a resolute minde. And begin to take the greatest advantage she hath vpon vs from her, let vs take a cleane contrary way from the common, let vs remove her strangenesse from her, let vs converse, frequent, and acquaint our selves with her, let vs have nothing so much in minde as death, let vs at all times and seasons, and in the vgliest manner that may be, yea with all faces shapen and represent the same vnto our imagination. At the stumbling of a horse, at the fall of a stone, at the least prick with a pinne, let vs presently ruminate and say with our selves, what if it were death itselfe? and thereupon let vs take heart of grace, and call our wits together to confront her. A middest our bankets, seasts, and pleasures, let vs ever have this restraint or object before vs, that is, the remembrance of our condition, and let not pleasure so much mislead or transport vs, that we altogether neglect or forget, how many waies, our joyes, or our feastings, be subject vnto death, and by how many hold-fasts shee threatens vs and them. So did the Aegyptians, who in the middest of their banquetings, and in the full of their greatest cheere, caused the anatomie of a dead man to be brought before them, as a memorandum and warning to their guests.

[Page 34]It is vncertaine where death looks for vs; let vs expect hir everie where: the premeditation of death, is a fore-thinking of libertie. He who hath learned to die, hath vnlearned to serve. There is no evill in life, for him that hath well conceived, how the privation of life, is no e­vill. To know how to die, doth freevs from all subjection and constraint. Paulus Aem [...]us answered one, whom that miserable king of Macedon his prisoner sent to entreate him, he would not leade him in triumph, let him make that request vnto himselfe. Verily, if Nature afforde not some helpe, in all things, it is very hard that arte and industrie should goe farre before. Of my selfe, I am not much given to melancholy, but rather to dreaming and slug­gishnes. There is nothing wherewith I have ever more entertained my selfe, than with the imaginations of death, yea in the most licentious times of my age.

Being amongst faire Ladies, and in earnest play, some have thought me busied, or musing with my selfe, how to digest some jealousie, or meditating on the vncertaintie of some con­ceived hope, when God he knowes, I was entertaining my selfe with the remembrance of some one or other, that but few daies before was taken with a burning feuer, and of his so­daine end, comming from such a feast or meeting where I was my selfe, and with his head full of idle conceits, of love, and merry glee; supposing the same, either sicknes or end to be as neere me as him.

I did no more trouble my selfe or frowne at such a conceit, then at any other. It is im­possible, we should not apprehend or feele some motions or startings at such imaginations at the first, and comming sodainely vpon vs: but doubtlesse, he that shall manage and me­ditate vpon them with an impartiall eye, they will assuredly, in tract of time, become familiar to him: Otherwise for my part, I should be in continuall feare and agonie; for no man did e­vermore distrust his life, nor make lesse account of his continuance: Neither can health, which hitherto I have so long enjoied, and which so seldome hath bin crazed, lengthen my hopes, nor any sicknesse shorten them of it. At every minute me thinkes I make an es­cape. And I vncessantly record vnto my selfe, that whatsoever may be done another day, may be effected this day. Truely hazards and dangers do little or nothing approach vs at our end: And if we consider, how many more there remaine, besides this accident, which in number more than millions seeme to threaten vs, and hang over vs; we shall find, that be we sound or sicke, lustie or weake, at sea or at land, abroad or at home, fighting or at rest, ‘in the middest of a battell or in our beds, she is ever alike neere vnto vs. Nemo altero fragilior est, nemo in crastinum sui certior. No man is meaker then other; none surer of himselfe (to live) till to morrow.’ Whatsoever I have to do before death, all leasure to end the same, seemeth short vnto me, yea were it but of one houre. Some body, not long since turning over my writing tables, found by chance a memoriall of something I would have done after my death: I told him (as indeed it was true,) that being but a mile from my house, and in perfect health and lustie, I had made hast to write it, because I could not assure my selfe I should ever come home in safety; As one that am ever hatching of mine owne thoughts, and place them in my selfe: I am ever prepared about that which I may be: nor can death (come when she please) put me in mind of any new thing. A man should ever, as much as in him lieth, be ready boo­ted to take his journey, and above all things, looke he have then nothing to do but with him­selfe.

For then we shall have worke sufficient, without any more accrease. Some man complai­neth more that death doth hinder him from the assured course of an hoped for victorie, than of death itself; another cries out, he should give place to her, before he have married his daughter, or directed the course of his childrens bringing vp; another bewaileth he must [Page 35] forgo his wives company: another moaneth the losse of his children the chiefest commo­dities of his being. I am now, by meanes of the mercie of God, in such a taking, that without regret or grieving at any worldly matter, I am prepared to dislodge, whensoever he shall please to call me: I am everie where free: my farewell is soone taken of all my friends except of my selfe. No man did ever prepare himselfe to quit the world more simply, and fully, or more generally spake of all thoughts of it, then I am fully assured I shall do. The deadest deaths are the best.

And the builder,

A man should designe nothing so long afore hand, or at least with such an intent, as to passionate himselfe to see the end of it; we are all borne to be doing.

I would have a man to be doing, and to prolong his lives offices, as much as lieth in him, and let death seize vpon me, whilest I am setting my cabiges, carelesse of her dart, but more of my vnperfect garden. I saw one die, who being at his last gaspe, vncessantly complained against his destenie, and that death should so vnkindly cut him off in the mid­dest of an historie which he had in hand, and was now come to the fifteenth or sixteenth of our Kings.

A man should rid himselfe of these vulgar and hurtfull humours. Even as Churchyards were first placed adjoyning vnto churches, and in the most frequented places of the Citie, to enure (as Lycurgus said) the common people, women and children, not to be skared at the sight of a dead man, and to the end that continuall spectacle of bones, sculs, tombes, graves; and burials, should forewarne vs of our condition, and fatall end.

And even as the Aegyptians after their feastings and carowsings, caused a great image of death to be brought in and shewed to the guests and by-standers, by one that cried aloud, Drinke and be mery, for such shalt thou be when thou art dead: So have I learned this custome or lesson, to have alwaies death, not only in my imagination, but continually in my mouth. And there is nothing I desire more to be informed of, than of the death of men: that is to say, what words, what countenance, and what face they shew at their death; and in rea­ding of histories, which I so attentively observe. It appeareth by the shuffling and hudling vp of my examples, I affect no subject so particularly as this. Were I a composer of bookes, I would keepe a register, commented of the diverse deaths, which in teaching men to die, should after teach them to live. Dicearcus made one of that title, but of an other and lesse profitable end. Some man will say to me, the effect exceedes the thought so farre, that there is no fence so sure, or cunning so certaine, but a man shall either loose or forget, [Page 36] if he come once to that point; let them say what they list: to premeditate on it, giveth no doubt a great advantage: and is it nothing, at the least to go eso farre without dismay or al­teration, or without an ague? There belongs more to it: Nature herselfe lends her hand, and gives vs courage. If it be a short and violent death, we have no leasure to feare it; if o­therwise, I perceive that according as I engage my selfe in sicknesse, I do naturally fall into some disdaine and contempt of life. I find that I have more ado to disgest this resolu­tion, that I shall die when I am in health, than I have, when I am troubled with a fea­ver: forsomuch as I have no more such fast hold on the commodities of life, whereof I begin to loose the vse and pleasure, and view death in the face with a lesse vndanted looke, which makes me hope, that the further I go from that, and the neerer I approch to this, so much more easily do I enter in composition, for their exchange, Even as I have tri­ed in many other occurrences, which Caesar affirmed, that often somethings seeme grea­ter, being farre from vs, than if they be neere at hand: I have found that being in perfect health, I have much more beene frighted with sicknesse, than when I have felt it. The jollitie wherein I live, the pleasure and the strength, make the other seeme so disproportio­nable from that, that by imagination I amplifie these commodities by one moitie, and ap­prehended them much more heauie and burthensome, then I feele them when I have them vpon my shoulders. The same I hope will happen to me of death. Consider we by the or­dinary mutations, and daily declinations, which we suffer, how Nature deprives vs of the night of our losse and empairing: what hath an aged man left him of his youths vigor, and of his forepast life?

Caesar to a tired and crazed Souldier of his guard, who in the open streete came to him, to beg leave, he might cause himselfe to be put to death; viewing his decrepit behauiour, answered pleasantly: Doest thou thinke to be alive then? Were man all at once to fall into it, I do not thinke we should be able to beare such a change, but being faire and gently led on by her hand, in a slow, and as it were vnperceived descent, by little and little, and step by step, she roules vs into that miserable state, and day by day seekes to acquaint vs with it. So that when youth failes in vs, we feele, nay we perceive no shaking or transchange at all in our selves: which in essence and veritie is a harder death, then that of a languishing and irkesome life, or that of age. Forsomuch as the leap from an ill being, vnto a not being, is not so dangerous or steeple; as it is from a delightfull and flowrishing being, unto a painfull and sorrowfull condition. A weake bending, and faint stooping bodie hath lesse strength to beare and vndergo a heauie burden: So hath our soule. She must be rouzed and raised a­gainst the violence and force of this adversarie. For, as [...]s impossible, shee should take any rest whilest shee feareth: whereof if she be assured (which is a thing exceeding humane condi­tion) she may boast that it is impossible, vnquietnesse, torment, and feare, much lesse the least displeasure should lodge in her.

She is made Mistris of her passions, and concupiscence, Lady of indulgence, of shame of povertie, and of all fortunes injuries. Let him that can, attaine to this advantage: Herein consists the true and Soveraigne libertie, that affords vs meanes wherewith to jeast and make a scorne of force and in justice, and to deride imprisonment, gives, or fetters.

Our religion hath had no surer humane foundation, then the contempt of life. Discourse of reason doth not onely call and summon vs vnto it. For why should we feare to loose a thing, which being lost, cannot be moaned? but also, since we are threatned by so many kinds of death, there is no more inconvenience to feare them all, than to endure one: what matter is it when it commeth, since it is vnavoidable? Socrates answered one that told him, The thirty Tyrants have condemned thee to death; And Nature them, said he. What fond­nesse is it to carke and care so much, at that instant and passage from all exemption of paine and care? As our birth brought vs the birth of all things, so shall our death the end of all things. Therefore is it as great follie to weepe, we shall not live a hundred yeeres hence, as to waile we lived not a hundred yeeres agoe. Death is the beginning of another life. So wept we, and so much did it cost vs to enter into this life; and so did we spoile vs of our ancient vaile in entring into it. Nothing can be grievous that is but once. Is it reason so long to feare, a thing of so short time? Long life or short life is made all one by death. For long or short is not in things that are no more. Aristotle saith, there are certaine litle beasts alongst the river Hyspanis, that live but one day; she which dies at 8. a clocke in the morning, dies in her youth, & she that dies at 5. in the afternoon, dies in her decrepitude, who of vs doth not laugh, when we shall see this short moment of continuance to be had in consideration of good or ill fortune? The most & the least in ours, if we compare it with eternitie, or equall it to the lasting of mountaines, rivers, stars, and trees, or any other living creature, is no lesse ridiculous. But nature compels vs to it. Depart saith she, out of this world, even as you came into it. The same way you came from death, to life returne without passion or amazement, from life to death: your death is but a peece of the worlds order, and but a parcell of the worlds life.

Shal I not change this goodly contexture of things for you? It is the condition of your crea­tion: death is a part of your selves: you flie from your selves. The being you enjoy, is equally shared between life and death. The first day of your birth doth aswell addresse you to-die, as to live.

All the time you liue, you steale it from death: it is at her charge. The continuall work of your life, is to contrive death; you are in death, during the time you continue in life: for, you are after death, when you are no longer living. Or if you had rather have it so, you are dead after life: but during life, you are still dying: & death doth more rudely touch the dying, then the dead, and more lively and essentially. If you haue profited by life, you haue also beene fed thereby, depart then satisfied.

If you have not knowne how to make vse of it: if it were vnprofitable to you, what neede you care to have lost it? to what end would you enioy it longer?

Life in it selfe is neither good nor euill: it is the place of good or evill, according as you prepare it for them. And if you have liued one day, you have seene all: one day is equal to [Page 38] all other daies: There is no other light, there is no other night. This Sunne, this Moone, these Starres, and this disposition, is the very same, which your forefathers enjoyed, and which shall also entertaine your posteritie.

And if the worst happen, the distribution and varietie of all the acts of my comedie, is per­formed in one yeare. If you have observed the course of my foure seasons; they containe the infancie, the youth, the virilitie, & the old age of the world. He hath plaied his part: he knowes no other wilinesse belonging to it, but to begin againe, it will ever be the same, and no other,

I am not purposed to devise you other new sports.

‘Make roome for others, as others have done for you. Equalitie is the chiefe ground-worke of equitie, who can complaine to be comprehended where all are contained? So may you live long­enough,’ you shall never diminish any thing from the time you have to die: it is bootelesse; so long shall you continue in that state, which you feare, as if you had died being in your swa­thing-clothes, and when you were sucking.

‘—licet, quot vis, vivendo vincere secla, Mors aeterna tamen, nihil ominus illa manebit.’

And I will so please you, that you shall have no discontent.

Nor shall you wish for life, which you so much desire.

Death is lesse to be feared than nothing, if there were any thing lesse, than nothing.

Nor alive, nor dead, it doth concerne you nothing. Alive, because you are: Dead, because you are no more. Moreover, no man dies before his houre. The time you leave behinde was no more yours, then that which was before your birth, and concerneth you no more.

[Page 39]Wheresoever your life endeth, there is it all. The profit of life consistes not in the space, but rather in the vse. Some man hath lived long, that hath had a short life. Follow it whilest you have time. It consists not in number of yeeres, but in your will, that you have lived long enough. Did you thinke you should never come to the place, where you were still going? There is no way but hath an end. And if company may solace you, doth not the whole world walke the same path?

Doe not all things moove as you doe, or keepe your course? Is there any thing grows not old togither with your selfe? A thousand men, a thousand beasts, and a thousand other creatures die in the very instance that you die.

To what end recoile you from it, if you cannot goe backe? You have seene many who have found good in death, ending thereby many many miseries. But have you seene any that hath received hurt thereby? Therefore is it meere simplicitie to condemne a thing you never prooved, neither by your selfe nor any other. Why doest thou complaine of me and of destinie? Doe we offer thee any wrong? is it for thee to direct vs, or for vs to governe thee? Although thy age be not come to her period, thy life is. A little man, is a whole man, as well as a great man. Neither men nor their lives are measured by the Ell. Chiron refused immortalitie, being informed of the conditions thereof, even by the God of time and of continuance, Saturne his father. Imagine truely how much an ever during life would be lesse tollerable and more painefull to a man, then is the life which I have given him: Had you not death, you would then vncessantly curse, and cry out against me, that I had deprived you of it. I have of purpose and wittingly blended some bitternes amongst it, that so seeing the commoditie of it's vse, I might hinder you from over greedily embracing, or indiscreet­ly calling for it. To continue in this moderation, that is neither to flie from life, nor to run to death (which I require of you) I have tempered both the one and other betweene sweete­nes & sowrenes. I first taught Thales the chiefest of your Sages and Wise men, that to live & die, were indifferent, which made him answer one very wisely, who asked him, wherefore he died not; Because, saith he, it is indifferent. The water, the earth, the aire, the fire, and other members of this my vniverse, are no more the instruments of thy life, then of thy death. Why fearest thou thy last day? He is no more guiltie, and conferreth no more to thy death, then any of the others. It is not the last step that causeth wearinesse: it onely declares it. All daies march towards death, onely the last comes to it. Behold heere the good precepts of our vniversall mother Nature. I have oftentimes bethought my selfe whence it proceedeth, that in times of warre, the vi­sage of death (whether wee see it in vs or in others) seemeth without all comparison much lesse dreadfull and terrible vnto vs, then in our houses, or in our beds, otherwise it should be an armie of Phisitians and whiners, and she ever being one, there must needes bee much more assurance amongst contrie-people and of base condition, then in others. I verily be­leeve, these fearefull lookes, and astonishing countenances wherewith we encompasse it, are those that more amaze and terrifie vs then death: a new forme of life: the out-cries of mo­thers; the wailing of women and children; the visitation of dismaid and swouning friends: the assistance of a number of pale-looking, distracted, and whining servants; a darke cham­ber: tapers burning round about; our couch beset round with Phisitians and Preachers; and to conclude, nothing but horror and astonishment on every side of vs: are wee not al­readie dead and buried? The very children are afraid of their friends, when they see them masked; and so are we: The maske must as well be taken from things, as from men, which being remooved, we shall finde nothing hid vnder it, but the very same death, that a seely var­let, or a simple maide-servant, did lately suffer without amazement or feare. Happie is that death, which takes all leasure from the preparations of such an equipage.

The twentieth Chapter.

FOrtis imaginatio generat casum: A strong imagination begetteth chance, say learned clearkes. I am one of those that feele a very great conflict and power of imagination. All men are shockt therewith, and some overthrowne by it. The impression of it pierceth me, and for want of strength to resist her, my endevour is to avoid it. I could live with the only assistance of holy and mery hearted men. The sight of others anguishes doth sensibly drive me into anguish; and my sense hath often vsurped the sense of a third man. If one cough continu­ally, he provokes my lungs and throate. I am more vnwilling to visite the sicke dutie doth engage me vnto, than those to whom I am little beholding, and regard least. I apprehend the evill which I studie, and place it in me. I deeme it not strange that she brings both agues and death to such as give her scope to worke her will, and applaude her. Simon Thomas was a great Phisitian in his daies. I remember vpon a time comming by chance to visit a rich old man that dwelt in Tholouse, and who was troubled with the cough of the lungs, who dis­coursing with the said Simon Thomas of the meanes of his recoverie, he told him, that one of the best was, to give me occasion to be delighted in his companie, and that fixing his eyes vpon the livelines and freshnes of my face, and setting his thoughts vpon the jolitie and vigor, wherewith my youthfull age did then flourish, and filling all his senses with my flori­shing estate, his habitude might thereby be amended, and his health recovered. But he forgot to say, that mine might also be empaired and infected. Gallus Vibius did so well enure his minde to comprehend the essence and motions of folly, that he so transported his judge­ment from out his seate, as he could never afterward bring it to his right place againe: and might rightly boast, to have become a soole through wisdome. Some there are, that through feare anticipate the hang-mans hand; as he did, whose friends having obtained his pardon, and putting away the cloth wherewith he was hood-winkt, that he might heare it read, was found starke dead vpon the scaffold, wounded onely by the stroke of imagination. Wee sweate, we shake, we grow pale, and we blush at the motions of our imaginations; and wal­lowing in our beds we feele our bodies agitated and turmoiled at their apprehensions, yea in such manner, as sometimes we are ready to yeeld vp the spirit. And burning youth (al­though asleepe) is often therewith so possessed and enfoulded, that dreaming it doth satisfie and enjoy her amorous desires.

And although it be not strange to see some men have hornes growing vpon their head in one night, that had none when they went to bed: notwithstanding the fortune or successe of Cyppus King of Italie is memorable, who because the day before he had with earnest af­fection, assisted and beene attentive at a bul-ba [...]ting, and having all night long dreamed of hornes in his head, by the very force of imagination brought them foorth the next mor­ning in his forehead. An earnest passion gave the son of Croesus his voice, which nature had denied him. And Antiochus got an ague, by the excellent beautie of Stratonic [...] so deepely im­printed in his minde. Plinie reporteth to have seene Lucius Cossitius vpon his marriage day to have beene transformed from a woman to a man. Pontanus and others recount the like Metamorphosies to have hapned in Italie these ages past: And through a vehement desire of him and his mother,

My selfe traveling on a time by Vitry in France, hapned to see a man, whom the Bishop [Page 41] of S [...]iss [...] had in confirmation, named Germane, and all the inhabitants there about have both knowne and seene to be a woman childe, vntill she was two and twentie yeares of age, called by the name of Marie. He was, when I saw him, of good yeares, and had a long beard, and was yet vnmarried. He saith, that vpon a time leaping, and straining himselfe to over leape an other, he wot not how, but where before he was a woman, he suddenly felt the instrument of a man to come out of him; and to this day the maidens of that towne and countrie have a [...]ong in vse, by which they warne one another, when they are leaping, not to straine themselves overmuch, or open their legs to wide, for feare they should bee turned to boies, as Marie Germane was. It is no great woonder, that such accidents doe of­ten happen, for if imagination have power in such things, it is so continually annexed, and so forcibly fastened to this subject, that least she should so often fall into the relaps of the same thought, and sharpenesse of desire, it is better one time for all, to incorporate this vi­rile part vnto wenches. Some will not sticke to ascribe the scarres of King Dagobert, or the cicatrices of Saint Francis vnto the power of Imagination. Othersome will say, that by the force of it, bodies are sometimes remooved from their places. And Celsus reports of a Priest, whose soule was ravished into such an extasie, that for a long time the body re­mained voide of all respiration and sense. Saint Augustine speaketh of an other, who if hee but heard any lamentable and wailefull cries, would suddenly fall into a swone, and bee so forcibly carried from himselfe, that did any chide and braule never so loud, pinch and thumpe him never so much, he could not be made to stirre, vntill hee came to himselfe a­gaine. Then would he say, he had heard sundry strange voyces, comming as it were from a farre, and perceiving his pinches and bruses, woondered at them. And that it was not an obstinate conceit, or wilfull humour in him, or against his feeling sense, it plainely ap­peared by this, because during his extasie, he seemed to have neither pulse nor breath. It is very likely that the principall credit of visions, of enchantments, and such extraordinary ef­fects, proceedeth from the power of imaginations, working especially in the mindes of the vulgar sort, as the weakest and s [...]liest, whose conceit and beliefe is so seized vpon, that they imagine to see what they see not. I am yet in doubt, these pleasant bonds, wherewith our world is so fettered, and France so pestered, that nothing else is spoken of, are happily but the impressions of apprehension, and effects of feare. For I know by experience, that someone, for whom I may as well answer as for my selfe, and in whom no maner of su­spition either of weakenesse or enchantment might fall, hearing a companion of his make report of an extraordinary faint sowning, wherein he was fallen, at such a time, as he least looked for it, and wrought him no small shame, whereupon the horrour of his report did so strongly strike his imagination, as he ranne the same fortune, and fell into a like droo­ping: And was thence forward subject to fall into like fits: So did the passionate remem­brance of his inconvenience possesse and tyrannize him; but his fond doting was in time remedied by an other kinde of [...]aving. For himselfe avowing and publishing aforehand the infirmitie he was subject vnto, the contention of his soule was solaced vpon this, that bearing his euill as expected, his dutie thereby diminished, and he grieved lesse thereat. And when at his choice, he hath had law and power (his thought being cleered and vn­masked, his body finding it selfe in his right due and place) to make the same to be felt, seized vpon, and apprehended by others knowledge: he hath fully and perfectly recovered himselfe. If a man have once beene capable, he cannot afterward be incapable, except by a just and absolute weakenesse. Such a michiefe is not to be feared, but in the enterprises, where our minde is beyond all measure bent with desire and respect; and chiefely where opportunitie comes vnexpected and requires a sudden dispàtch. There is no meanes for a man to recover himselfe from this trouble; I know some, who have found to come vnto it with their bodies as it were halfe glutted else-where, thereby to stupifie or allay the heat of that furie, and who through age, finde themselves lesse vnable, by how much more they be lesse able: And another, who hath also found good, in that a friend of his assured him to bee provided with a counter-battery of forcible enchantments, to preserue him in any such conflict: It is not amisse I relate how it was. An Earle of very good place, with whom I was familiarly acquainted, being married to a very faire Lady, who had long beene soli­cited for loue, by one assisting at the wedding, did greatly trouble his friends; but most of all an old Lady his kins-woman, who was chiefe at the marriage, and in whose house it was so­lemnized, [Page 42] as she that much feared such sorceries and witchcrats: which shee gave mee to vnderstand, I comforted her as well as I could, and desired her to relie vpon me: I had by chance a peece of golden plate in my trunke, wherein were ingraven certaine celestiall fi­gures, good against the Sunne-beames, and for the head-ach, being fitly laide vpon the suture of the head: and that it might the better be kept there, it was sewed to a riband, to be fastened vnder the chinne. A fond doting conceit, and cosin-germane to that wee now speake of▪ Iames Peletier had whilest he lived in my house, bestowed that singular gift vpon mee; I advised my selfe to put it to somevse, and told the Earle, he might happily be in danger, and come to some misfortune as others had done, the rather because some were present, that would not sticke to procure him some ill lucke, and which was woorse, some spitefull shame▪ but neverthelesse I willed him boldly to goe to bed: For I would shew him the part of a true friend, and in his need, spare not for his good to employ a miracle, which was in my power; alwaies provided, that on his honour he would promise me faith­fully to keepe it very secret; which was onely, that when about mid-night he should have his caudle brought him, if he had had no good successe in his businesse, he should make such and such a signe to me. It fel out, his mind was so quailed, and his eares so dulled, that by reason of the bond wherewith the trouble of his imagination had tied him, hee could not runne on poste: and at the houre appointed, made the signe agreed vpon betweene vs, I came and whispered him in the eare, that vnder pretence to putvs all out of his chamber, he should rise out of his bed, and in jesting manner take my night-gowne which I had on, and put it vpon himselfe (which he might well doe, because wee were much of one stature) and keepe it on till he had performed my appointment, which was, that when we should be gone out of the Chamber, he should with-draw himselfe to make water, and vsing certaine jestures, I had shewed him, speake such words thrice over. And every time hee spake them he should girt the ribband, which I put into his handes, and very carefully place the plate thereto fastned, just vpon his kidneyes, and the whole figure, in such a posture. All which when he had accordingly done, and the last time so fastened the ribband, that it might neither be vntide nor stirred from his place, he should then boldely and confidently re­turne to his charge, and not forget to spread my night-gowne vpon his bed, but so as it might cover them both. These fopperies are the chiefe of the effect. Our thought being vnable so to free it selfe, but some strange meanes will proceed from some abstruse learn­ing: Their inaniti [...] gives them weight and credite. To conclude, it is most certaine, my Characters prooved more venerian than solare, more in action, than in prohibition. It was a ready and curious humour drew me to this effect, farre from my nature. I am an e­nemie to craftie and fained actions, and hate all suttletie in my handes, not onely recreative, but also profitable. If the action be not vicious, the course vnto it, is faultie. Amasis king of Aegypt, tooke to wife Laodice, a very beauteous yong virgine of Greece, and he that before had in every other place found and shewed himselfe a lustie gallant, found himselfe so si ort, when he came to grapple with her, that he threatned to kill her, supposing it had beene some charme or sorcerie. As in all things that consist in the fantasie, she addrest him to devotion. And having made his vowes and promises to Venus, he found himselfe divinely freed, even from the first night of his oblations and sacrifices. Now they wrong vs, to receive and ad­mit vs with their wanton, squeamish, quarellous countenances, which setting vs a fire, extin­guish vs.

Pythagoras his neece was wont to say, That a woman which lies with a man, ought, toge­ther with her petie-coate, leave off all bashfulnesse, and with her petie-coate, take the same againe. The minde of the assailant molested with sundry different alarums, is easily dismaid. And he whom imagination hath once made to suffer this shame (and she hath caused the same to be felt but in the first acquaintances; because they are then burning and violent, and in the first acquaintance and comming together, or triall a man gives of himselfe, he is much more afraid and quaint to misse the marke he shootes at) having begun ill he fals into an ague or spite of this accident, which afterward continueth in succeeding occasions. Married men, because time is at their command, and they may go to it when they list, ought never to presse or importune their enterprise, vnlesse they be readie. And it is better vndecently to faile in hanseling the nuptiall bed, full of agitation and fits, by waiting for some or other fitter occasion, and more private opportunitie, lest sudden and alarmed, then to fall into a [Page 43] perpetuall miserie, by apprehending an astonishment and desperation of the first refusall. Before possession taken, a patient ought by sallies, and divers times, lightly assay and offer himselfe without vexing or opiniating himselfe, definitively to convince himselfe. Such as know their members docile and tractable by nature, let them onely endevour to counter­cosin their fantasie. Men haue reason to checke the indocile libertie of this member, for so importunately insinuating himselfe when we have no neede of him, and so importunately, or as I may say impertinently failing, at what time we have most neede of him; and so impe­riously contesting by his authority, with ou [...] will, refusing with such fiercenes and obstinacie our sol [...]citations both mentall and manuall. Neverthelesse if a man inasmuch as he doth gormandize and devour his rebellion, and drawes a triall by his condemnation, would pay me for to plead his cause▪ I would peradventure make other of our members to be suspected to have (in envy of his importance, and sweetnesse of his vse) devised this imposture, and fra­med this set quarrell against him, and by some malicious complot armed the world against him, enviously charging him alone with a fault common to them all. For I referre it to your thought, whether there be any one particular part of our body, that doth not sometimes re­fuse hir particular operation to our will and wish, and that doth not often exercise and pra­ctise against our will▪ All of them have their proper passions, which without any leave of ours doe either awaken or lull them asleepe. How often doe the forced motions and chan­ges of our faces, witnesse the secretest and most lurking thoughts we have, and bewray them to by-standers? The same cause that doth animate this member, doth also, vnwitting to vs, embolden our heart, our lungs, and our pulses. The sight of a pleasing object, reflecting imperceptibly on vs, the flame of a contagious or aguish emotion. Is there nought besides these muscles and veines, that rise and fall without the consent, not onely of our will, but also of our thought? We cannot command our haire to stande an end, nor our skinne to star­tle for desire or feare. Our hands are often carried where we direct them not. Our tongue and voice are sometimes to seeke of their faculties, the one looseth her speech, the other her nimblenesse. Even when we have nothing to feede vpon, we would willingly forbid it: the appetites to eate, or list to drinke, doe not leave to moove the parts subject to them, even as this other appetite, and so, though it be out of season, forsaketh vs, when he thinks good. Those instruments that serve to discharge the belly, have their proper compressions and dilatations, besides our intent, & against our meaning, as these are destined to discharge the kidneis. And that which, the better to authorize our willes power, Saint Augustin alleadgeth, to have seene one, who could at all times command his posterior, to let as ma­ny s [...]apes as he would, and which Vives endeareth by the example of an other in his daies, who could let tunable and organized ones, following the tune of any voice propounded vnto his eares, inferreth the pure obedience of that member: than which▪ none is common­ly more indis [...]re [...]t and tumul [...]ous. Seeing my selfe know one so skittish and mutinous, that these fortie yeeres keepes his master in such awe, that will he, or nill he, he will with a continuall breath, constant and vnintermitted custome breake winde at his pleasure, and so brings him to his grave. And would to God I knew it but by Histories, how that many times our belly, being restrained thereof, brings vs even to the gates of a pining and lan­guishing death: And that the Emperour, who gave vs free leave to vent at all times, and every where, had also given vs the power to doe it. But our will, by whose priviledge we ad­vance this reproch, how much more likely, and consonant to trueth may we taxe it of rebel­lion, and accuse it of sedition, by reason of its vnrulinesse and disobedience? Will shee at all times doe that, which we would have her willingly to doe? Is shee not often willing to effect that, which we forbid her to desire? and that to our manifest prejudice and damage? Doth she suffer her selfe to be directed by the conclusions of our reason? To conclude, I would vrge in defence of my client, that it would please the Iudges to consider, that con­cerning this matter, his cause being inseperably conjoyned to a consort, and indistinctly: yet will not a man addresse himselfe but to him, both by the arguments and charges, which can no way appertaine to his said consort. For, his effect is indeed sometime importu­nately to invite, but to refuse never: and also to invite silently and quietly. Therefore is the saw [...]inesse and illegalitie of the accusers seene. Howsoever it be, protesting that advo­cates and judges may wrangle, contend, and give sentence, what, and how they please, Na­ture will in the meane time follow her course: who, had she endued this member with a­ny [Page 44] particular priviledge, yet had she done but right, and shewed but reason. Author of the onely immortall worke, of mortall men. Divine worke according to Socrates; and love, desire of immortalitie, and immortall Daemon himselfe. Some man peradventure, by the effects of imagination, leaveth the pox or Kings evill heere, which his companion car­rieth into Spaine againe: loe heere why in such cases men are accustomed to require a prepa­red minde, wherefore doe Phisitians labour and practise before hand the conceit and cre­dence of their patients, with so many false promises of their recoverie and health, vnlesse it be that the effect of imagination may supple and prepare the imposture of their decoction? They knew that one of their trades-master hath left written, how some men have been found, in whom the onely sight of a potion hath wrought his due operation: All which humor or caprice is now come into my minde, vpon the report which an Apothecarie, whi­lome a servant in my fathers house, was woont to tell me, a man by knowledge simple, and by birth a Switzer▪ a nation little vaine-glorious, and not much given to lying, which was, that for a long time he had knowne a marchant in Tholouse, sickish, and much troubled with the stone, and who often had need of glisters, who according to the [...]ts and occurrences of his evill, caused them diversly to be prescribed by Phisitians. Which being brought him, no accustomed forme to them belonging was omitted, and would often taste whether they were too hot, and view them well, and lying along vpon his bedde, on his bell [...]e, and all complements performed, only injection excepted, which ceremony ended, the Apothecarie gone, and the patient lying in his bed, even as if he had received a glister indeed, he found and felt the very same effect, which they doe that have effectually taken them. And if the Physitian saw it had not wrought sufficiently, he would accordingly give him two or three more in the same manner. My witnesse protesteth, that the sicke mans wife, to save charges (for he paide for them as if he had received them) having sometimes assaide to make them onely with luke warme water, the effect discovered the craft, and being found not to worke at all, they were forced to returne to the former, and vse the Apothecarie. A woman supposing [...]o have swallowed a pinne with her bread, cried and vexed her­selfe, even as if she had felt an intolerable paine in her throat, where she imagined the same to sticke; but because there appeared n [...]ther swelling or alteration, a skilfull man deeming it to be but a fantasie concei­ved, or opinion, apprehended by eating of some gretty piece of bread, which happily night pricke her in the swallow, made her to vomite, and vnknowne to her, cast a pinne in that which she had vomited. Which the woman perceiving, & imagining she had cast the same, was presently eased of her paine. I have knowne a Gentleman, who having feasted a com­pany of very honest Gentlemen and Gentlewomen, in his owne house, by way of sport, and in jeast, boasted two or three daies after (for there was no such thing) that he had made them ea [...]e of a baked Cat; whereat the Gentlewoman of the companie apprehended such horror, that falling into a violent ague and distemper of her stomacke, she could by no meanes be recovered. Even brute beasts, as well as we, are seene to be subject to the power of ima­gination; witnesse some Dogs, who for sorrow of their Masters death are seene to die, and whom we ordinarily see to startle and barke in their sleep, and horses to neigh and struggle. But all this may be referred to the narrow suture of the Spirit and the body, entercommu­nicating their fortunes one vnto another. It is another thing, that imagination doth som­times worke, not onely against her owne body, but also against that of others. And even as one body ejecteth a disease to his neighbour, as doth evidently appeare by the plague, pox, or sore eies, that goe from one to another.

Likewise the imagination mooved and tossed by some vehemence, doth cast some da [...], that may offend a strange object. Antiquitie hath held, that certaine women of Scithia, be­ing provoked and vexed against some men, had the power to kill them, onely with their looke. The Tortoises and the Estriges hatch the [...] egges with their looks onely, a signe that they have some ejaculative vertue. And concerning witches they are said to have offensive and harme working eies. Virg. buc. [...]. 3▪ [...]03.

Magitians are but ill respondents for me. So it is, that by experience wee see women to transferre divers markes of their fantasies, vnto children they beare in their wombes: witnes she that brought foorth a Blacke-a-more. There was also presented vnto Charles king of Bo­hemia, an Emperour, a young girle, borne about Pisa, all shagd and hairy over and over, which her mother said, to have beene conceived so, by reason of an image of Saint Iohn Bap­tist, that was so painted, & hung over her bed. That the like is in beastes, is witnessed by Ia­cobs sheepe, and also by partriges and hares▪ that grow white by the snow vpon mountaines. There was lately seene a cat about my owne house, so earnestly eyeing a bird, sitting vpon a tree, that he seeing the Cat, they both so wistly fixed their looks one vpon another, so long, that at last, the bird tell downe as dead in the Cats pawes, either drunken by his owne strong imagination, or drawne by some attractiue power of the Cat. Those that love hawking, have happily heard the Falkners tale, who earnestly fixing his sight vpon a Kite in the aire, laide a wager that with the onely force of his looke, he would make it come stooping downe to the ground, and as some report did it many times. The Histories I borrow, I referre to the consciences of those I take them from. The discourses are mine, and holde together by the proofe of reason, not of experiences: each man may adde his example to them: and who hath none, considering the number and varietie of accidents, let him not leave to think, there are store of them. If I come not well for my selfe, let another come for me. So in the studie wherein I treat of our manners and motions, the fabulous testimonies, alwaies pro­vided they be likely and possible, may serve to the purpose, as well as the true, whether it hapned or no, be it at Rome, or at Paris, to Iohn or Peter, it is alwaies a tricke of humane capacitie, of which I am profitably advised by this report. I see it and reape profit by it, as well in shadow as in bodie. And in divers lessons that often histories affoord, I commonly make vse of that, which is most rare and memorable. Some writers there are, whose end is but to relate the events. Mine, if I could attaine to it, should be to declare, what may come to passe, touching the same. It is justly allowed in schooles, to suppose similitudes, when they have none. Yet do not I so, and concerning that point, in superstitious religion, I exceed all historicall credit. To the examples I here set down, of what I have read, heard, done, or seene, I have sorbid my selfe so much as to dare to change the least, or alter the idlest circum­stances. My conscience doth not falsifie the least iot. I wot not whether my insight doth. Concerning this subject I doe sometimes enter into conceit, that it may well become a Di­vine, a Philosopher, or rather men of exquisite conscience, and exact wisdome, to write histo­ries. How can they otherwise engage their credit vpon a popular reputation? How can they answer for the thoughts of vnknowne persons? And make their bare conjectures passe for currant paiment? Of the actions of divers members, acted in their presence, they would re­fuse to beare witnes of them, if by a judge they were put to their corporall oath. And there is no man so familiarly knowne to them, of whose inward intention they would vndertake to answer at full I hold it le [...]e hazardous to write of things past, then present; forasmuch as the writer is not bound to give account but of a borrowed trueth. Some perswade mee to write the affaires of my time, imagining, I can see them with a sight lesse blinded with pas­sion, then other men, and perhaps neerer, by reason of the accesse which fortune hath given me to the chiefest of divers factions. But they will not say, how for the glory of Salust, I would not take the paines; as one that am a vowed enemie to observance, to assiduitie, and to constancie, and that there is nothing so contrarie to my stile, as a continued narration. I doe so often for want of breath breake off and interrupt my selfe. I have neither composi­tion nor explication of any woorth. I am as ignorant as a childe of the phrases and vowels belonging to common things. And therefore have I attempted to say what I can, accom­modating the matter to my power. Should I take any man for a guid, my measure might dif­fer from his. For, my libertie being so farre, I might happily publish judgements, agreeing with me, and consonant to reason, yet vnlawfull and punishable. Plutarke would peradven­ture tell vs of that which he hath written, that it is the worke of others, that his examples are in all and everiewhere true, that they are profitable to posteritie, and presented with a lustre, that lights and directs vs vnto vertue, and that is his worke. It is not dangerous, as in a medi­cinable drugge, whether in an old tale or report, be it thus or thus, so or so.

The one and twentieth Chapter.

DEmades the Athenian condemned a man of the Citie, whose trade was to sell such ne­cessaries as belonged to burials, vnder colour, hee asked too much profit for them: and that such profit could not come vnto him without the death of many people. This judgement seemeth to be ill taken, because no man profiteth but by the losse of others: by which reason a man should condemne all maner of gaine. The Marchant thrives not but by the licentiousnesse of youth; the Husband man by dearth of corne; the Architect but by the ruine of houses; the Lawyer by sutes and controversies betweene men: Honour it selfe, and practise of religious Ministers, is drawne from our death and vices. No Phisitian delighteth in the health of his owne friend, saith the auncient Greeke Comike: nor no Souldier is pleased with the peace of his Cittie and so of the rest. And which is worse, let every man sound his owne conscience, hee shall finde, that our inward desires are for the most part nourished and bred in vs by the losse and hurt of others; which when I considered, I began to thinke, how Nature doth not gainesay herselfe in this, concerning her generall policie: for Phisi­tians hold, that The birth, increase, and augmentation of every thing, is the alteration and cor­ruption of another.

The two and twentieth Chapter.

MY opinion is, that hee conveied aright of the force of custome, that first invented this tale; ‘how a countrey woman having enured herselfe to cherish and beare a yoong calfe in her armes▪ which continuing, shee got such a custome, that when he grew to be a great oxe, shee carried him still in her armes. For truely, Custome is a violent and deceiving schoole mistris.’ She by little and little, and as it were by stealth, establisheth the foote of her authoritie in vs; by which milde and gentle beginning, if once by the aide of time, it have setled and planted the same in vs, it will soone discouer a furious and tyrannicall counte­nance vnto vs, against which we have no more the libertie to lift so much as our eies: ‘wee Pllu. epis. 20. may plainly see her vpon every occasion to force the rules of Nature: Vsus efficacissimus rerū omnium magister. Ʋse is the most effectuall master of all things. I beleeve Platoes den mentioned in his common wealth,’ and the Phisitians that so often quit their artes reason by authori­tie; and the same King who by meanes of her, ranged his stomacke to be nourished with poyson; and the mayden that Albert mentioneth to have accustomed herselfe to live vpon spiders: and now in the new found world of the Indians, there were found diverse popu­lous nations, in farre differing climates, that lived vpon them; made provision of them, and carefully fed them; as also of grasse-hoppers, pissemires, lizards, and night-bats; and a toade was solde for six crownes in a time that all such meates were scarse amongst them, which they boyle, roste, bake, and dresse with divers kindes of sawces. Others have beene found to whom our vsuall flesh and other meates were mortall and venemous. Consuetudi­nis Cic. Tusc. q [...]. 2▪ magna est vis, Perno [...]tant venatores in nive, in montibus vri se patiuntur: Pugiles caestibus [Page 47] contusi, ne ingemiscunt quidem. Great is the force of custome: Huntsmen wilwatch all night insnow, and endure to bee scorched on the hils: Fencers brused with (and-bags or [...]udgels, do not so much as groaue. These forraine examples are not strange, if wee but consider what we ordinarily finde by travell, and how custome quaileth and weakeneth our customary sences. We neede not goe seeke what our neighbours report of the Cataractes of Nile; and what Phyl [...]so­phers deeme of the celestiall musicke, which is, that the bodies of it's circles, being solid smooth, and in their rowling motion, touching and rubbing one against another, must of necessitie produce a wonderfull harmonie: by the changes and entercaprings of which, the revolutions, motions, cadences, and carrols of the asters and planets are caused and trans­ported. But that vniversally the hearing senses of these low worlds creatures, dizzied and lulled a sleepe, as those of the Aegyptians are, by the continuation of that sound, how loud and great soeuer it be, can not sen [...]ibly perceive or distinguish the same. Smiths, M [...]llers, Forgers, Armorers, and such other, could not possibly endure the noise that commonly rings in their eares, if it did pierce them as it doth vs. My perfumed Ierkin serveth for my nose to smell vnto, but after I have worne it three or foure daies together, not I, but others have the benefite of it. This is more strange, that notwithstanding long intermissions, cu­stome may joyne and establish the effect of her impression vpon our senses; as they proove that dwell neere to bells or steeples. I have my lodging neere vnto a tower▪ where both e­vening and morning a very great bell doth chime Ave marie and Cover-f [...]w, which jangling doth even make the tower to shake; at first it troubled me much, but I was soone acquain­ted with it, so that now I am nothing offended with it, and many times it can not waken me out of my sleepe. Plato did once chide a child for playing with nuts, who answered him. Thou chid [...]st me for a small matter. Custome replied Plato, is no small matter. I finde that our greatest vices, make their fitst habitein vs, from our infancie, and that our chiefe government and education, lieth in our nurses hands. Some mothers thinke it good sport to see a childe wring off a chickius-necke, and strive to beate a dog or cat. And some fa­thers are so fond foolish, that they will conster as a good Augur or fore-boding of a mar­tiall minde to see their sonnes misuse a poore peasant, or tug a lackey, that doth not defend himselfe; and impute it to a ready wit, when by some wily disloyaltie, or crafty deceit, they see them cousine and over-reach their fellowes: yet are they the trew seeds, or rootes of cruelty, of tyranny, and of treason. In youth they bud, and afterward grow to strength, and come to perfection by meanes of custome.

And it is a very dangerous institution, to excuse so base and vile inclinations, with the weakenesse of age, and lightnesse of the subiect. First it is nature that speaketh, whose voice is then [...]hriller, purer, and more natiue, when it is tender, newer, and youngest. Secondlie, the deformity of the crime consisteth not in the difference betweene crownes and pinnes; it depends of it selfe. I finde it more just to conclude thus. Why should not hee as well de­ceive one of a crowne, as he doth of a pinne? Then as commonly some doe, saying, alas, it is but a pinne. I warrant you, he will not doe so with crownes. A man would carefully teach children to hate vices of their owne genuity, and so distinguish the desormity of them, that they may not onely eschew them in their actions, but above all, hate them in their hearts: and what coloursoeuer they beare, the very conceit may seeme odious vnto them. I know well, that because in my youth, I have ever accustomed my selfe to treade a plaine beaten path; and have ever hated to entermeddle any manner of deceipt of cousoning-craft, even in my childith sportes (for truely it is to be noted, that Childrens playes are not sports, and should be deemed as their most serious actions.) There is no pastime so slight, that inward­lie I haue not a naturall propension, and serious care, yea extreame contradiction, not to vse any deceipt. I shuffle and handle the cardes, as earnestly for counters, and keepe as strict an accompt, as if they were double duckets, when playing with my wife or children, it is in­different to mee whether I winne or loose, as I doe when I play in good earnest. How and wheresoeuer it be, mine owne eies will suffice to keepe me in office; none else doe watch mee so narrowly; nor that I respect more. It is not long since in mine owne house, I saw a little man, who at Na [...]s, was borne without armes, and hath so well fashioned his feete to those services, his hands should have done him, that in truth they have almost forgotten their na­turall office. In all his discourses he nameth them his hands, he carveth any meate, he char­geth and shoots off a pistole, he threds a needle, he soweth, he writeth, puttes off his cappe, [Page 48] combeth his head, plaieth at cards and dice; shuffleth and handleth them with a great dex­teritie as any other man that hath the perfect vse of his hands: the monie I have sometimes given him, he hath caried away with his feete, as well as any other could doe with his hands. I saw another, being a Childe, that with the bending and winding of his necke, (because hee had no hands) would brandish a two-hand-Sword, & mannage a Holbard, as nimbly as a­ny man could doe with his hands: he would cast them in the aire, then receive them againe, he would throw a Dagger, and make a whip to yarke and lash, as cunningly as any Car­ter in France. But her effects are much better discovered in the strange impressions, which it worketh in our mindes where it meetes not so much resistance. What cannot she bring to passe in our judgements, and in our conceits? Is there any opinion so fantastical, or conceit so extravagant (I omit to speake of the grose imposture of religions, wherwith so many great nations and so many woorthy & sufficient men have bin besotted, and drunken: For, being a thing beyond the compasse of our humane reason, it is more excusable if a man that is not extraordinarily illuminated thereunto by divine favour, do loose & mis-carrie himselfe ther­in) or of other opinions, is there any so strange, that custome hath not planted and establish­ed by lawes in what regions soever it hath thought good? And this auncient exclamation is most just: Non pudet physicum, id est speculatorem venatorémque naturae, ab animis consuetu­dine imbutis quaerere testimonium veritatis? Is it not a shame for a naturall Philosopher, that is the Cic. Nat De. l. 1. watch-man and hunts-man of nature, to seeke the testimonie of truth, from mindes endued and dou­ble dide with custome? I am of opinion, that no fantasie so mad can fall into humane ima­gination, that meetes not with the example of some publike custome, and by consequence that our reason doth not ground and bring to a stay. There are certaine people, that turne their backs towards those they salute, and never looke him in the face whom they would ho­nour or worship. There are others, who when the King spitteth, the most favoured Ladie in his court stretched forth her hand; and in an other countrey, where the noblest a­bout him, stoupe to the ground to gather his ordure in some fine linnen cloth: Let vs here by the way insert a tale. A French Gentleman was ever woont to blow his nose in his hand, (a thing much against our fashion) maintaining his so doing; and who in wittie jeasting was very famous. He asked me on a time, what priviledge this filthie excrement had, that wee should have a daintie linnen cloth or handkercher to receive the same; and which is woorse, so carefully folde it vp, and keepe the same about vs, which should be more loathsome to ones stomacke, than to see it cast away, as wee doe all our other excrements and filth. Mee thought he spake not altogether without reason: and custome had taken from me the dis­cerning of this strangenesse, which being reported of an other countrie we deeme so hi­deous. Miracles are according to the ignorance wherein we are by nature, and not accor­ding to natures essence; vse brings the [...]ight of our judgement a sleepe. The barbarous hea­then are nothing more strange to vs, then we are to them: nor with more occasion, as e­very man would avow, if after he had traveiled through these farre-fetcht examples, hee could stay himselfe vpon the discourses, and soundly conferre them. Humane reason is a tincture in like waight and measure, infused into all our opinions and customes, what form soever they be of: infinite in matter: infinite in diversitie. But I will returne to my theame. There are certaine people, where, except his wife and children, no man speaketh to the King, but through a trunke. Another nation, where virgines shew their secret parts o­penly, and married women diligently hide and cover them. To which custome, this fashion vsed in other places, hath some relation: where chastitie is nothing regarded but for mar­riage sake; and maidens may at their pleasure lie with whom they list; and being with childe, they may without feare of accusation, spoyle and cast their children, with certaine medi­caments, which they haue onely for that purpose. And in another country, if a Marchant chance to marrie, all other Marchants that are bidden to the wedding, are bound to lie with the bride before her husband, and the more they are in number, the more honor and commendation is hers, for constancie and capacitie: the like if a gentleman or an officer marrie; and so of all others: except it be a day-labourer, or some other of base condition; for then must the Lord or Prince lie with the bride; amongst whom (notwithstanding this abusive custome) loyaltie in married women is highly regarded, and held in speciall account, during the time they are married. Others there are, where publike brothel­houses of men are kept, and where open marte of marriages are ever to be had: where wo­men [Page 49] goe to the warres with their husbands, and have place, not onely in fight, but also in commaund, where they doe not onely weare jewels at their noses, in their lips, and cheekes, and in their toes, but also big wedges of golde through their pappes and buttocks, where when they eate, they wipe their fingers on their thighs, on the bladder of their genitories, and the soles of their feet, where not children, but brethren and nephewes inherite; and in some places, the nephewes onely, except in the succession of the Prince. Where to or­der the communitie of goods, which amongst them is religiously observed, certaine So­veraigne Magistrates have the generall charge of husbandry and telling of the lands, and of the distribution of the fruites, according to every mans neede, where they howle and weepe at their childrens deaths, and joy and feast at their olde mens decease. Where ten or twelve men lie all in one bed with all their wives, where such women as loose their hus­bands, by any violent death, may marrie againe, others not: where the condition of wo­men is so detested, that they kill all the maiden children, so soone as they are borne, and to supply their naturall neede, they buy women of their neighbours. Where men may at their pleasure, without alledging any cause put away their wives, but they (what just reason so­ever they have) can never put away their husbands. Where husbands may lawfully sell their wives, if they be barren. Where they cause dead bodies first to be boyled, and then to be brayed in a morter, so long till it come to a kind of pap, which afterward they mingle with their wine, and so drinke it. Where the most desired sepulcher that some wish for, is to be devoured of dogges, and in some places of birds. Where some thinke, that blessed soules live in all liberty, in certaine pleasant fields stored with all commodities, and that from them pro­ceedes that Echo, which we heare. Where they fight in the water, and shute exceeding true with their bowes as they are swimming. Where in signe of subjection men must raise their shoulders, and stoope with their heads, and put off their shooes when they enter their kings houses. Where Eunuches that have religious women in keeping, because they shall not be loved, have also their noses and lips cut off. And Priests that they may the better acquaint themselves with their Demons, and take their Oracles, put out their eyes▪ Where euery man makes himselfe a God of what he pleaseth: the hunter of a Lion or a Fox; the fisher, of a certaine kinde of Fish; and frame themselves Idols of every humane action or passion: the Sunne, the Moone, and the earth are their chiefest Gods: the forme of swearing is, to touch the ground, looking vpon the Sunne, and where they eate both flesh and fish raw. Where th [...] greatest oath is to sweare by the name of some deceased man, that hath lived in good reputat on in the countrie, touching his grave with the hand. Where the new-yeares gifts that Kings send vnto Princes their vassals euery yeare, is some fire, which when it is brought, all the old fire is cleane put out: of which new fire all the neighbouring people are bound vpon paine laesae matestatis, to fetch for their vses. Where, when the King (which of­ten commeth to passe) wholy to give himselfe vnto devotion, giveth over his charge, his next successor is bound to doe like, and convaieth the right of the kingdome vnto the third heire. Where they diversifie the forme of policie, according as their affaires seeme to require: and where they depose their Kings, when they thinke good, and appoint them cer­taine ancient grave men to vndertake and wealde the kingdoms government, which some­times is also committed to the communaltie, Where both men and women are equally cir­cumcised, and alike baptised. Where the Souldier, that in one or divers combate hath pre­sented his King with seven enemies heads, is made noble. Where somelive vnder that so ra [...]e and vnsociable opinion of the mortalitie of soules. Where women are brought a bed without paine of griefe. Where women on both their legs weare greavs of Copper: and if a louse bite them, they are bound by duty of magnanimitie to bite it againe: and no maide dare marrie, except she have first made offer of her Virginitie to the King. Where they salute one another laying the forefinger on the ground, and then lifting it vp toward heaven: where all men beare burthens vpon their head, and women on their shoulders. Where wo­men pisse standing, and men cowring. Where in signe of true friendshippe they send one another some of their owne bloud, and offer insense to men which they intend to honour, as they doe to their Gods: where not onely kindred and consanguinitie in the fourth de­gree, but in any furthest off, can by no meanes be tolerated in marriages: where children sucke till they be foure, and sometimes twelve yeares olde, in which place they deme it a dis­mall thing to give a childe sucke the first day of his birth Where fathers have the charge to [Page 50] punish their male-children, and mothers only maide-children, and whose punishment is to hang them vp by the feete, and so to smoke them. Where women are circumcised; where they eat all manner of hearbes, without other distinction, but to refuse those that have ill sa­vour: where all things are open, and how faire and rich soever their houses be, they have nei­ther doores nor windowes, nor any chests to locke; yet are all theeves much more severely pu­nished there, than any where else; where, as monkies doe, they kill lice with their teeth, and thinke it a horrible matter to see them crusht between their na [...]les; where men so long as they live never cut their haire, nor paire their nales: another place where they only paire the nailes of their right hand, and those of the left are never cut, but very curiously maintained: where they indevour to cherish all the haire growing on the right side, as long as it wil grow: and ve­ry often shave away that of the left side: where in some Provinces neere vnto vs, some women cherish their haire before, and othersome that behinde, and shave the contrarie: where fa­thers lend their children, and husbands their wives to their guests, so that they pay ready mo­ny: where men may lawfully get their mothers with childe: where fathers may lie with their daughters, and with their sonnes: where, in solemne assemblies and banquets, without any di­stinction of bloud or alliance, men will lend one another their children. In some places men feede vpon humane flesh, and in others, where it is deemed an office of pietie in children to kill their fathers at a certaine age: in other places fathers appoint what children shall live, and be preserved, and which die and be cast out, whilest they are yet in their mothers wombe: where old husbands lend their wives to yong men, for what vse soever they please: In other places, where all women are common without sinne or offence: yea in some places, where for a badge of honour, they weare as many frienged tas [...]els, fastened to the skirt of their gar­ment as they have laine with severall men. Hath not custome also made a severall common­wealth of women? hath it not taught them to manage Armes? to leavie Armies, to marshall men, and to deliver battles? And that which strickt-searching Philosophie could never per­swade the wisest, doth she not of her owne naturall instinct teach it to the grofest headed vul­gare? For we know whole nations, where death is not only condemned, but cherished; where children of seven yeares of age, without changing of countenance, or shewing any [...]igne of dismay endured to be whipped to death; where riches and worldly pelfe was so despised and holden so contemptible, that the miserablest and need est wretch of a Citie would have scor­ned to stoope for a pursefull of gold. Have we not heard of divers most fertile regions, plen­teously yeelding al maner of necessary victuals, where neverthelesse the most ordinary cates and daintiest dishes, were but bread, water-cresses, & water? Did not custome worke this won­der in Chios, that during the space of seven hundred yeres it was never found or heard of, that any woman or maiden had her honor or honestie called in question? And to conclude, there is nothing in mine opinion, that either she doth not, or can not: and with reason doth Pinda­rus, as I have heard say, Call her the Queene and Empresse of all the world. He that was met beating of his father, answered, It was the custome of his house; that his father had so beaten his grandfather, and he his great-grandfather; and pointing to his sonne, said, this child shall also beate mee, when he shall come to my age. And the father, whom the sonne haled and dragged through thicke and thinne in the streete, commanded him to stay at a certaine doore, for himselfe had dragged his father no further: which were the bounds of the hereditarie and iniurious demeanours the children of that family were wont to shew their fathers. By cu­stome, saith Aristotle, as often as by sicknesse, doe we see women tug and teare their haires, bite their nailes, and eate cole and earth: and more by custome then by nature doe men meddle and a­buse themselves with men. The lawes of conscience, which we say to proceede from nature, rise and proceede of custome: every man holding in speciall regard, and inward venera­tion the opinions approved, and customes received about him, can not without remorse leave them, nor without applause applie himselfe vnto them: when those of Creete would informer ages curse any man, they besought the Gods to engage him in some bad custome. But the chiefest effect of her power is to seize vpon vs, and so to entangle vs, that it shall hardly lie in vs, to free our selves from her holde-fast, and come into our wits againe, to dis­course and reason of her ordinances; verily, because wee sucke them with the milke of our birth, and forasmuch as the worldes visage presents it selfe in that estate vnto our first view, it seemeth we are borne with a condition to follow that course. And the common imagina­tions we finde in credite about vs, and by our fathers seede infused in our soule, seeme [Page 51] to be the generall and naturall. Whereupon it followeth, that whatsoever is beyond the compasse of custome, wee deeme likewise to be beyond the compasse of reason. God knowes how for the most part, vnreasonably. If as we, who study our selves, have lear­ned to doe, every man that heareth a just sentence, would presently consider, how it may in any sort belonging vnto his private state, each man should finde, that this is not so much a good word, as a good blow to the ordinary sottishnesse of his judgement. But men re­ceive the admonitions of truth and her precepts, as directed to the vulgare, & never to them­selves; and in liew of applying them to their maners, most men most foolishly and vnprofi­tably apply them to their memorie. But let vs returne to customes soveraignety, such as are brought vp to libertie, and to commaund themselves, esteeme all other forme of polli­cie, as monstrous and against nature. Those that are enured to Monarchie doe the like. And what facilitie soever fortune affoordeth them to change, even when with great difficul­tie they have shaken off the importunitie of a tutor, they runne to plant a new one with semblable difficulties, because they can not resolve themselves to hate tutorship. It is by the meditation of custome, that every man is contented with the place, where nature hath set­led, him: and the savage people of Scotland have nought to doe with Touraine, nor the Sci­thians with Thessalie. Darius demanded of certaine Graecians, For what they would take vpon them the Indians custome, to eate their diseased fathers. (For such was their maner, thinking they could not possibly give them a more noble and favourable tombe, than in their owne bowels) they answered him, That nothing in the world should ever bring them to embrace so in­humane a custome: But having also attempted to perswade the Indians to leave their fashi­on, and take the Graecians, which was to burne their corpes, they were much more asto­nied thereat. Every man doth so, forsomuch as custome doth so bleare vs that we can not distinguish the true visage of things.

Having other times gone about to endeare, and make some one of our observations to be of force, and which was with resolute auctoritie received in most parts about vs, and not de­siring, as most men doe, only to establish the same by the force of lawes and examples, but having ever bin from her beginning, I found the foundation of it so weake, that my selfe, who was to confirme it in others, had much adoe to keepe my countenance. This is the receipt by which Plato vndertaketh to banish the vnnaturall and preposterous loves of his time; and which hee esteemeth Soveraigne and principall. To wit, that publike opinion may con­demne them; that Poets, and all men else may tell horrible tales of them. A receit by meanes whereof the fairest Daughters winne no more the love of their fathers, nor brethren most excellent in beautie, the love of their sisters. The very fables of Thyestes, of Oedipus and of Macareus, hauing with the pleasure of their songs infused this profitable opinion, in the tender conceit of children. Certes, chaftitie is an excellent vertue, the commoditie whereof is very well knowne: but to vse it, and according to nature to prevaile with it, is as hard as it is casie, to endeare it and to prevaile with it according to custome, to lawes and precepts. The first and vniversall reasons are of a hard perscutation. And our Masters passe them over in gleaning, or in not daring so much as to taste them, at first sight cast themselves head-long into the libertie or sanctuarie of custome. Those that will not suffer themselves to be drawne out of his originall source, do also commit a greater error, and submit themselves to savage opinions, witnesse Chrysippus; who in so many severall places of his compositions, inserted the small accompt he made of conjunctions, how incestuous soever they were. Hee that will free himselfe from this violent prejudice of custome, shall find divers things received with an vndoubted resolution, that have no other anker but the hoarie head and frowning wrimples of custome, which ever attends them: which maske being pulled off, & referring all matters to truth and reason, he shall perceive his judgement, as it were over-turned, and placed in a much surer state. As for example, I will then aske him, what thing can be more strange than to see a people bound to follow lawes, he never vnderstood? Being in all his domesticall affaires, as marriages, donations, testaments, purchases, and sales, necessarily bound to costo?mary [Page 52] rules, which forsomuch as they were never written nor published in his owne tongue, he cannot vnderstand, and whereof he must of necessity purchase the interpretation and vse. Not according to the ingenious opinion of Isocrates, who counselleth his King to make the Trafikes and negotiations of his subiests, free, enfranchized and gainefull, and their debates, centro­versies, and quarrels burthen-some, and charged with great subsidies, and impositions: But accor­ding to a prodigious opinion, to make open sale, and trafficke of reason it selfe, and to give lawes a course of marchandize, is very strange. I commend fortune, for that (as our Histori­ans reporte) it was a Gentleman of Gaskonie, and my Countriman, that first opposed himself against Charles the great, at what time he went about to establish the Latine and Imperiall lawes amongest vs. What is more barbarous than to see a nation, where by lawfull cu­stome the charge of judging is sold, and judgements are paid for with readie money; and where justice is lawfully denied him, that hath not wherewithall to paie for it; and that this marchandize hath so great credite, that in a politicall government there should be set vp a fourth estate of Lawyers, breath-sellers, and pettifoggers, and joyned to the three ancient states, to wit, the Clergie, the Nobility, and the Communaltie; which fourth state having the charge of lawes, and sometimes auctoritie of goods and lives, should make a body, apart, and severall from that of Nobilitie, whence double Lawes must follow; those of honour, and those of justice; in many things very contrarie do those as rigorously condemne a lie pocket­ed vp, as these a lie revenged: by the law and right of armes he that putteth vp an injurie shalbe degraded of honour and nobilitie; and he that revengeth himselfe of it, shall by the ci­vill Lawe incurre a capitall punishment? Hee that shall addresse himselfe to the Lawes to have reason for some offence done vnto his honour, dishonoreth himselfe. And who doth not so, is by the Lawes punished and chastised. And of these so different parts, both neverthe­lesse having reference to one head; those having peace, these war committed to their charge; those having the gaine, these the honor: those knowledge, these vertue: those reason, these strength: those the word, these action: those justice, the sevalour: those reason these force: those a long gowne, & these a short coat, in partage and share. Touching indifferent things, as clothes and garments, whosoever will reduce them to their true end, which is the service and commodity of the bodie, whence dependeth their originall grace and comlines, for the most fantasticall to my humour that may be imagined, amongst others I will give them our square caps; that long hood of plaited velvet, that hangs over our womens heads, with his parti-co­loured traile and that vaine & vnprofitable modell of a member, which we may not so much as name with modestie, wherof notwithstanding we make publike shew, and open demonstra­tion. These considerations do neverthelesse never distract a man of vnderstanding from fol­lowing the common guise? Rather on the contrary, me seemeth, that all severall, strange, and particular fashions proceede rather of follie, or ambitious effectation, than of true reason: and that a wise man ought inwardly to retire his minde from the common presse, and hold the same liberty and power to judge freely of all things, but for outward matters, he ought absolutely to follow the fashions and forme customarily received. Publicke societie hath nought to do with our thoughts; but for other things, as our actions, our travel, our fortune, and our life, that must be accommodated and left to it's service and common opinions: as that good and great Socrates, who refused to save his life by disobeying the magistrate, yea a magistrate most wicked and vnjust. For that is the rule of rules, and generall law of lawes, for every man to observe those of the place wherein he liveth.

Loe here some of another kind. There riseth a great doubt, whether any so evident pro­fite may be found in the change of a received law, of what nature soever, as there is hurt in removing the same; forsomuch as a well setled pollicie, may be compared to a frame or buil­ding of diuers parts joyned together with such a ligament as it is impossible to stirre or dis­place one, but the whole body must needes be shaken, and shew a feeling of it. The Thu­rians Law-giver instituted, that, whosoever would goe about, either to abolish any one of the olde Lawes, or attempt to establish a new, should present himselfe before the people with a roape about his necke, to the end, that if his invention were not approved of all men, he should presently be strangled. And he of Lacedaemon laboured all his life to get an assured promise of his citizens that they [Page 53] would never insringe any one of his ordinances. That Ephore or Tribune, who so rudely cut off the two strings, that Phrin [...]s had added vnto musicke, respecteth not whether musicke be better or no with them, or whether the accords of it be better filled, he hath sufficient rea­son to condemne them, because it is an alteration of the old forme. It is that which the old rustie swoord of justice of Mars [...]ille did signifie. I am distasted with noveltie, what coun­tenance soever it shew: and I have reason so to be, for I have seene very hurtfull effects fol­low the same. That which so many yeares since doth so pressevs, hath not yet exploited all But some may alledge with apparance, that by accident, it hath produced and engendred all, yea both the mischiefes and ruines, that since are committed without and against it: it is that a man should blame and finde fault with.

Those which attempt to shake an Estate, are commonly the first overthrowne by the fall of it: he that is first moover of the same, reapeth not alwaies the fruite of such troubles; he beates and troubleth the water for others to fish in. The contexture and combining of this monarchie, and great building, having bin dismist and disolved by it, namely in her old yeares, giveth as much overture and entrance as a man will to like injuries. Royall Majestie doth more hardly fall from the top to the middle, then it tumbleth downe from the middle to the bottom. But if the inventors are more damageable, the imitators are more vicious, to cast themselves into examples, of which they have both felt and punished the horror and mischiefe. And if there be any degree of honour, euen in ill doing, these are indebted to others for the glory of the invention, and courage of the first attempt. All sortes of new licentiousnesse doe happily draw out of this originall and frutefull source, the images and patterns to trouble our common-wealth. We may reade in our very lawes, made for the remedie of the first evill, the apprentisage and excuse of all sortes of wicked enterprises: And in favour of publikevices, they are named with new and more pleasing words for their excuses, bastardizing & allaying their true titles: yet it is to reforme our consciences and our conceites, Honest a oratio est. It is an honest speech and well said. But the best pretence of innova­tion Teren. And. act. 1. sce. 1. or noveltie is most dangerous: Adeò nihil motum ex antiquo probabile est. So nothing mo­ved cut of the first place is allowable: Yet me seemeth (if I may speake boldely) that it argueth a great selfe-love and presumption, for a man to esteeme his opinions so far, that for to esta­blish them, a man must be faine to subvert a publike peace, and introduce so many inevitable mischiefes, and so horrible a corruption of manners, as civill warres, and alterations of a state bring with them, in matters of such consequence, and to bring them into his owne countrie. It is not ill husbanded to advance so many certaine and knowne vices, for to combate con­tested and debatable errors? Is there any worse kinde of vices, than those which shocke a mans owne conscience and naturall knowledge? The Senate durst give this defeate in payment about the controversies betweene it and the people for the mysterie of their reli­gion: Ad deos, id magis quàm ad se pertinere: ipsos visuros, ne sacra suapolluantur: That that did rather belong to the Gods than to them, and the Gods should looke to it, that their due rites were not polluted. A greeing with that, which the Oracle answered those of Delphos▪ in the Median warre, fearing the inuasions of the Persians. They demaunded of that God what they should doe with the treasures consecrated to his Temple, whether hide, or cary them away: who an­swered them, that they should remove nothing, but take care of themselves, for he was able to provide for all things that were fit for him. Christian religion hath all the markes of ex­treame justice & profit, but none more apparant then the exact commendation of obedience due vnto magistrates, and manutention of policies: what wonderfull example hath divine wisedome left vs, which to establish the well-fare of humane kinde, and to conduct this glo­rious victorie of hers against death and sinne, would not do it but at the mercy of our politik order, and hath submitted the progresse of it, and the conduct of so high and worthie effect, to the blindnesse and injustice of our observations and customes, suffering the innocent­bloud of so many her favored elect to runne, and allowing a long losse of yeares for the ripe­ning of this inestimable fruit? There is much difference betweene the cause of him that followeth the formes and lawes of his countrie, and him that vndertaketh to governe and change them. The first alleageth for his excuse, simplicitie, obedience, and example; what­soever [Page 54] he doth cannot be malice, at the most it is but ill lucke. Quis est enim, quem non moue at Ci [...]. di [...]. l. 1. clarissimis monument is testata consignata (que) antiquita? For who is he whom antiquitie will not move, being witnessed & signed with former monuments? Besides that which Isocrates saith, that defect hath more part in moderation, then hath excesse. The other is in much worse case. For he that medleth with chusing and changing, vsurpeth the authoritie of judging: and must resolve himselfe, to see the fault of what he hunteth for, and the good of what he bringeth in. This so vulgar consideration hath confirmed me in my state, and restrained my youth, that was more rash, from burthening my shoulders with so filthie a burthen, as to make my selfe res­pondent of so important a science. And in this to dare, what in sound judgement I durst not in the easiest of those wherein I had beene instructed, and wherein the rashnes of judg­ing is of no prejudice. Seeming most impious to me, to goe about to submit publike consti­tutions and vnmoveable observances, to the instabilitie of a private fantasie (private reason is but a private jurisdiction) and to vndertake that on devine-lawes, which no policie would tolerate in civill law. Wherein although mans reason have much more commerce, yet are they soverainly judges of their judges: and their extreame sufficiencie, serveth to expound custome and extend the vse, that of them is received, and not to divert and innovate the same. If at any time devine providence hath gone beyond the rules, to which it hath necessary con­strained vs, it is not to give vs a dispensation from them. They are blowes of lier divine hand, which we ought not imitate, but admire: as extraordinarie examples, markes of an expresse and particular avowing of the severall kinds of wonders, which for a testimonie of hir om­nipotencie it offereth vs, beyond our orders and forces, which it is follie and impictie to goe about to represent, and which we ought not follow but contemplate with admiration, and meditate with astonishment. Acts of hir personage, and not of ours. Co [...]ta protesteth very opportunely. Quum de religione agitur, T. Coruncanum, P. Seipionem, P. Scaeuolam, Pontifices Ci [...]. De Nat. l. 3 p. maximos, non Zenonem, aut Cleanthem, aut Chrysippum, sequor. When we talke of religion, I follow Titus Coruncanus, Publius Scipio, P. Scaeuola, and the professors of religion, not Zeno, Cleanthes. or Chrysippus.

May God know it in our present quarell, wherein are a hundred articles, yea, great and deepe articles, to be removed and altered, although many there are, who may boast to have exactly survaid the reasons and foundations of one and other faction. It is a number, if it be a number, that should have no great meane to trouble vs. But whither goeth all this other throng? Vnder what colours doth it quarter it selfe? It followeth of theirs, as of other weake and ill applied medicines, the humors, that it would have purged in vs, it hath enflamed exasperated, and sharpned, by hir conflict, and still do remaine in our bodies. It could not by reason of hir weaknesse purge vs, but hath rather weakned vs; so that we cannot now, voide it, and by her operation we reap nothing but long, continuall, and intestine griefes and aches, yet is it, that fortune, ever reserving hir authoritie above our discourses, doth somtimes present vs the vrgent necessitie, that lawes must needes yeeld hir some place: And when a man resisteth the increase of an innovation, brought in by violence, to keepe himselfe each­where and altogether in rule and bridle against those that have the keyes of fields, to whom all things are lawfull, that may in any sort advance their desseigne, that have not law, nor order, but to follow their advantage, it is a dangerous obligation and prejudiciall in­equalitie.

For so much as the ordinarie discipline of an estate, that hath his perfect health, doth not provide for these extraordinarie accidents, it presupposeth a bodie holding it selfe in his principall members and offices, and a common consent to observe and obey it. Lawfull pro­ceeding, is a cold, dull, heauie, and forced proceeding: and is not like to hold out against a li­centious and vnbridled proceeding. It is yet as all men know, a reproch to those two great personages, Octavius and Cato, in their civill warres; the one of Scilla, the other of Caesar, because they rather suffered their countrie to incur all extremities, then by hir lawes to aide hir, or to innovate any thing. For truely in these last necessities, where nothing is left to take hould by, it were peradventure better, to shrug the shoulders, stoope the head, and some­what yeeld to the strooke, then beyond possibilitie to make head and resist, and be nothing [Page 55] the better, and give violence occasion to trample all vnder-foote: and better were it to force the lawes to desire but what they may, since they may not what they would. So did he that ordained them to sleep foure and twentie houres: And he who for a time removed one day from the Calender: And another who of the moneth of Iune made a second May. The Lacedemonians themselues, so strict obseruers of their countries ordinances, being vrged by their Lawes, which precisely forbad and inhibited to chuse one man twice to be their Admi­rall, and on the other side their affaires necessarily requiring, that Lysander should once more take that charge vpon him, they created one Aracus Admirall, but instituted Lysander super­intendent of all maritine causes. And with the same sutteltie, one of their Ambassadors being sent to the Athenians for to obtaine the change of some ordinance, Pericles alleadging, that it was expresly forbid to remove the table, wherein a law had once beene set downe, perswaded him but to turne it, for that was not forbidden. It is that whereof Plutarke commendeth Phi­lopaemen, who being borne to commaund, could not onely commaund according to the lawes, but the lawes themselues, whensoever publike necessitie required it.

The three and twentieth Chapter.

I Ames Amiot, great Almoner of France, did once tell me this storie, to the honour of one of our Princes. (And so he was indeed by very good tokens, albeit by ofspring he were a stranger) that during our first troubles, at the siege of Roane, the said Prince being adver­tised by the Queene-mother of a conspiracie and enterprise, that should be attempted a­gainst his life, and by letters particularly informed him of the partie that should performe it, who was a gentle-man of An [...]ow, or Manse, and who to that purpose did ordinarily fre­quent the said Princes court; he never imparted that secret or communicated that warning to any man, but the next morrow walking vpon Saint Catherins hill, whence our batterie played against the towne (for it was, at what time we laid siege to Roane) with the said Lord great Almoner: and another Bishop by his side, he chanced to descrie the said gentleman, whom the Queene-mother had described vnto him, and caused him to be called, who be­ing come before his presence, said thus vnto him, perceaving him alreadie to waxe pale, and tremble at the alarums of his conscience: Maister, such a one, I am fully perswaded you fore­imagine what I will charge you with, and your countenance doth plainly show it, you can conceale nothing from me: for I am so well instructed of your businesse, that would you goe about to hide it, you should but marre all you have perfect knowledge of this and this thing, (which were the chie­fest props and devises of the secretest drifts of his complot and conspiracie) faile not there­fore as you tender your life, to confesse the trueth of all your purpose. When the silly man saw himselfe so surprized and convicted (for the whole matter had beene discovered vnto the Queene by one of the complices) he had no other way, but to lift vp his handes, and begge for grace and mercie at the Princes handes, at whose feete he would have prostrated him­selfe, but that he would not let him: thus following his discourse. Come hither my friend, said he, Did I ever doe you any displeasure? Have I ever through any particular hatred, wronged or offended any friend of yours? It is not yet three weekes since I knew you, what reason might move you to conspire and enterprise my death? The Gentleman with a faint-trembling voyce, and selfe-accusing looke answered him, that no particular occasion had ever moved him to that, but the interest of the generall cause of his faction, and that some of them had perswaded him, that to roote out, and in what maner soever, to make away so great an enemy of their religion, would be an execution full of pietie, and a worke of supererogation. Then said the Prince, I will shew you how much the religion which I professe is more milde, than that whereof you make profession: yours hath perswaded you to kill me, without hearing me, having never been offended by me: and mine, commaundes me to pardon you, convicted as you are, that you would so treacherously and without cause have killed me. Goe your way, withdraw your selfe, let mee never see you heere againe, and if you be wise, hence-forward in your enterprises take bonester men for [Page 56] your counsellers, than those of your religion. The Emperour Augustus being in Gaule, recei­ved certaine advertisement of a conspiracie, that L. Cinna complotted against him, whereof he purposed to be avenged, and for that purpose sent to all his friends against the next mor­row for advise and counsell, but passed the fore-going night with great anxietie and vnrest, considering that following his intent, he should bring a yong Gentleman, well borne, of a noble house, and great Pompeyes nephew, to his death: which perplexitie produced divers strange discourses and consideration in him. What? said he vnto himselfe, Shall it ever bee reported, that I doe live in feare, and suffer mine enemie to walke at his pleasure and libertie? Shall he then goe free, that hath attempted and resolved to deprive me of my life, which both by sea and land I have saved from so many civill warres, and from so many battels? And now that I have esta­blished an vniversall peace in the world, shall he be absolved and goe vnpunished, that hath, not only determined to murther, but to sacrifice me? (For, the complot of the conspiracie was to mur­ther him, when he should be at sacrifice.) After that, having taken some rest with himselfe, he with a lowder voice beganne to exclaime and cry out against himselfe, saying, Why li­vest thou, if the lives of so many depend on thy death? Shall thy vengeance and cruelties never have an end? Is thy life of that worth, as it may counter vaile the sundry mischiefes that are like to ensue, if it be preserved? Livia his wife being in bed with him, perceiving his agonie, and hearing his speeches, said thus vnto him: And may not womens counsels be admitted? Doe as Physiti­ans are woont, who when their ordinarie receipts will not worke, have recourse to the contrarie. Hitherto thou couldest never doe any good with severitie: Lepidus hath followed Savidienus, Murena Lepidus, Coepio Murena, Egnatius Scoepio, beginne now to proove what good lenitie and clemencie will doe thee. Cinna is convicted, pardon him: To annoy or hurt thee now, he is not able, and thou shalt thereby encrease thy glory. Augustus seemed very glad to have found an Advocate of his humour, and having thanked his wife, and countermaunded his friends, whom he had summoned to the Counsell, commaunded Cinna to be brought before him alone. Then sending all men out of his chamber, and a chaire prepared for Cinna to sit in, he thus bespake him: First Cinna, I require to have gentle audience, and that thou wilt not in­terrupt my speech, which ended, I will give thee time and leasure to answer me: Thou knowest (oh Cinna) that when I had taken thee prisoner in mine enemies campe, who wast not only become, but borne my foe; I saved thee, then put thee in quiet possession of thy goods, and at last, have so en­riched thee, and placed thee in so high a degree, that even the conquerours are become envious over the conquered. The Priestes office, which thou beggedst at my hands, I freely bestowed on thee, having first refused the same to others, whose fathers and friendes had in many battels shead their bloud for me: After all which benefites, and that I had in dutie tied thee so fast vnto me, thou hast notwithstanding vndertaken to kill me. To whom Cinna replied, crying alowde, That he had never so much as conceived so wicked a thought, much lesse entertained the same. Oh Cinna, this is not according to thy promise, answered then Augustus, which was, that thou wouldest not interrupt me: What I say, is true, thou hast vndertaken to murther me, in such a place, on such a day, in such a company, and in such manner: and seeing him so amazed in heart, and by his evidence strucken dombe, moved thereunto, not by the condition of his promise, but by the guilt of his selfe-accusing conscience; why wouldest thou doe it, replied he, is it because thou wouldest be Emperour? Truely the common-wealth is but in hard condition, if none but my selfe hinder thee from the Empire. The [...] canst not so much as defend thine owne house, and didst but lately loose a processe, only by the favor of aseely libertine. What? hast thou no meane or power in any other matter, but to attempt Caesars life? I quit it, if there be no man but my selfe to impeach thy hopes. Supposest thou that Paulus, that Fabius, that the Cossenians or the Servillianes will ever permit thee? And so great a troupe of no­ble men, noble, not onely in name, but such as by their vertues honour their nobilitie, will ever suf­fer it? After many other such like discourses (for he talked with him more than two houres) he said vnto him; Away, oh Cinna, that life which once I gave thee, as to an enemie, I now give thee againe, as to a traitour, and a patricide: let a true friendship from this day forward begin betwene vs, let vs strive together, which of vs two with a better faith shall out-goe the other, and whether I have given thy life, or thou hast received the same with great confidence: and so left him. Shortly after he gave him the Consulship, blaming him that he durst not aske it of him. And ever after held him as his deere friend, and made him alone, heire and executor of his goodes. Now after this accident, which hapned to Augustus in the xl. yeare of his age, there was never any conspiracie or enterprise attempted against him; and he received a just reward [Page 57] for his so great clemency. But the like succeeded not to our Prince, for his mildnesse and lenitie, could not so warrant him, but that afterward he fell into the snares of the like treason: so vaine and frivolous a thing is humane wisedome: and contrary to al projects, devises, coun­sels, & precautions, fortune doth ever keepe a full sway and possession of all events. We count those Phisitians happy and successefull, that successefully end a desperate cure, or come to a good issue: as if there were no other arte but theirs, that could not subsist of it selfe, and whose foundations were too feeble, to stand and relie vpon her owne strength: and as if there were none but it, that standes in neede of fortunes helpe-affoording hand, for the effecting of her operations. My conceit of it, is both the worst and the best a man may imagine: for thankes be to God, there is no commerce betweene vs: I am contrary to others; for I ever despise it, and when I am sick, in stead of entring into league or composition with it, I then beginne to hate and feare it most: and answere such as vrge mee to take Physicke, that at least they will tarie till such time as I have recovered my health and strength againe; that then I may the better be enabled to endure the violence and hazard of their potions. I let nature worke, and presuppose vnto my selfe, that she hath provided her selfe, both of teeth and clawes, to defend her self from such assaults as shal beset her, and to maintaine this contexture or frame, whose dissolution it so much hateth. In liew of bringing helpe vnto her, when shee most striveth, and is combated by sickenesse, I greatly feare lest I bring succor vnto her adversarie, and surcharge her with new enemies. Now I conclude, that not onely in Phisicke, but like­wise in sundry more certaine artes, fortune hath great share in them. The Poeticall furies, which ravish and transport their Author beyond himselfe, why shall we not ascribe them to his good fortune, since himselfe confesseth, that they exceede his strength and sufficiencie, and acknowledgeth to proceede from elsewhere, than from himselfe, and that they are not in his power, no more than Orators say to have those strange motions and extraordinary a­gitations, that in their arte transport them beyond their purpose? The like wee see to bee in painting, for sometimes the Painters hand shall draw certaine lines or draughts, so farre ex­ceeding his conception or skill, that himselfe is forced to enter into admiration and amaze­ment. But fortune yet doth much more evidently shewe, the share shee hath in all their workes, by the graces and beauties that often are found in them, not only beyond the intent, but besides the very knowledge of the workman. A heedy Reader shall often discover in other mens compositions, perfections farre-differing from the Authors meaning, and such as haply he never dreamed of, and illustrateth them with richer senses, and more excellent constructions. As for military enterprises, no man is so blinde but seeth what share fortune hath in them: even in our counsels and deliberations, some chance or good lucke must needs be joyned to them, for whatsoever our wisedome can effect, is no great matter. The sharp­er and quicker it is, more weakenesse findes it in itselfe, and so much the more doth it dis­trust itselfe. I am of Sillaes opinion: and when I nearest consider the most glorious ex­ploites of warre, me thinkes I see, that those who have the conduct of them, employ ney­ther counsell nor deliberation about them, but for fashion-sake, and leave the best part of the enterprise to fortune, and on the confidence they have in her ayde, they still go beyond the limits of all discourse. Casuall rejoycings, and strange furies ensue among their delibe­rations, which for the most induce them to take the counsell least grounded vpon apparance or reason, and which quaile their courage beyond reason; whence it hath succeeded vnto diverse great Captaines, by giving credite to such rash counsels, and aleaging to their soul­diers, that by some divine inspiration, and other signes and prognostications, they were encouraged to such and such enterprises. Loe here wherefore in this vncertainty and perple­xitie, which the impuissances and inabilitie doth bring vs to see and chuse what is most commodious, for the difficulties which the divers accidents and circumstances of everie thing drawe with them: the surest way, if other considerations did not invite vs thereto, is, in my conceit, to follow the partie, wherein is most honestie and justice; and since a man doubteth of the nearest way, ever to keepe the right. As in these two examples I have lately mentioned, there is no doubt, but that it was more commendable and generous in him, who had received the offence, to remit and pardon the same, than to have done otherwise. If the first had but ill successe, his good intent is not to be blamed; and no man knoweth, had he ta­ken the contrary way, whether he should have escaped the end, to which his destinie called him; and then had he lost the glorie and commendations, of so seld-seene humanitie. Sun­drie [Page 58] men possessed with this feare, are read-of in auncient Histories; the greatest part of which have followed the way of fore-running the conspiracies, which were complotted a­gainst them, by revenge or tortures, but I see very few, that by this remedy have received any good; witnesse so many Romane Emperours. Hee that perceiveth himselfe to be in this danger, ought not much to relie vpon his power, or hope in his vigilancie. For, how hard a matter is it, for a man to warrant and safegard himselfe from an enemie, that masks vnder the visage of the most officious and heartie-seeming friend we have? And to knowe the inward thoughts and minde-concealed meanings of such as daily attend, and are conti­nually with vs? It will little availe him to have forraine nations to his guard, and ever to be encircled about with troupes of Armed men; whosoever he be that resolveth to condemne his owne life, may at any time become master of other mens lives.

Moreover that continuall suspition, which makes the Prince to mistrust every body, should be a wonderfull vexation to his minde. And therefore when Dion was advertised that Callippus watched to kill him, could never finde in his heart to informe himselfe of it: affirming; He had rather die once, than ever live in feare and miserie, and to garde himselfe not only from his enemies, but from his very friends. Which thing Alexander presented more live­ly and vndantedly by effect, who by a letter of Parme [...]o having received advertisement, that Phillip his neerest and best regarded Phisitian, had with money beene subborned and corrup­ted by Darius, to poison him, who at the very instant that he gave Phillip the letter to reade, swallowed downe a potion he had given him: was it not to expresse his resolution, that if his friends would kill him, he would not shunne them, but consent to their treachery? This Prince is the Soveraigne patterne of hazardous attempts: yet know I not whether in all his life, he shewed an act of more resolute constancie, than this, nor an ornament so many waies famous. Those which daily preach and buzze in Princes eares, vnder colour of their safetie a hee [...]y diffidence and ever-warie distrustfulnesse, doe nought but tell them of their ruine, and further their shame and downefall. No noble act is atchived without danger. I know one by his owne complexion of a right martiall courage, and ready for any resoluti­on, whose good and hopefull fortune is dayly corrupted by such verball perswasions; as first to keepe close with his friends; never to listen to any reconciliation with his olde ene­mies: to stand vpon his owne guarde; never to commit himselfe to any stronger then him­selfe, what faire promse soever they make him, or whatsoever apparant profit they seeme to containe. I also know another, who because he did ever follow the contrarie counsell, and would never listen to such schoole-reasons, hath beyond all hope raised his fortune a­bove the common reach. That boldenesse wherewith they so greedily gape after glory, is alwaies at hand, when ever neede shall be, as gloriously in a dublet as in an armor; in a ca­binet as in a campe; the arme held downe, as lifted vp. A wisedome so tenderly-precise, and so precisely-circumspect, is a mortall enemie to haughty executions. Scipio, to sound the depth of Siphax intent, and to discover his minde; leaving his armie, and abandoning the yet vnsetled country of Spaine, which vnder his new conquest of it, was likely to be suspe­cted, he I say, could passe into Affrike only with two simple ships or small barkes, to com­mit himselfe in a strange and foe countrie, to engage his person, vnder the power of a bar­barous King, vnder an vnknowne faith, without either hostage, or letters of credence, yea without any body, but onely vpon the assurance of the greatnesse of his courage, of his suc­cessefull good fortune, and of the promise of his high-raised hopes. Habita fides ipsam ple­rumque fidem obligat. Most commonly trusting obligeth trustinesse. To an ambicious and fame­aspiring minde, contrariwise, a man must yeeld little, and cary a hard hand against suspiti­ons: Feare and distrust draw on offences and allure them. The most mistrustfull of our Kings established his affaires, and setled his estate, especially because he had voluntarily gi­ven over, abandoned and committed his life and libertie, to the hands and mercy of his e­nemies: Seeming to put his whole confidence in them, that so they might likewise conceive an vndoubted affiance in him. Caesar did onely confront his mutinous legions, and oppose his hardly-ruled Armies, with the minde-quelling authoritie of his countenance, and awe­mooving fiercenesse of his wordes: and did so much trust himselfe and his fortune, that he no whit feared to abandon and commit himselfe to a seditious and rebellious Armie.

True it is, that this vndaunted assurance can not so fully and lively be represented, but by those in whom the imagination or apprehension of death, and of the worst that may happen, can strike no amazement at all: for, to represent it fearefully-trembling, doubt­full and vncertaine, for the service of an important reconciliation, is to effect no great mat­ter: It is an excellent motive to gaine the heart and good will of others, for a man to go and submit himselfe to them, provided it be done freely, and without constraint of any necessi­tie, and in such sort, that a man bring a pure and vnspotted confidence with him, and at least his countenance void of all scruple. Being yet a child, I saw a gentleman, who had the command of a great Citie, and by a commotion of a seditiously-furious people greatly put to his plunges, who to suppresse the rising-fire of this tumult, resolved to sally out from a strongly-assured place, where he was safe, and yeeld himselfe to that many-headed mon­ster mutinous rowt; thrived so ill by it, that he was miserably slaine amongst them: yet deeme I not his oversight to have beene so great an issuing out, his memorie being of most men condemned, as because he tooke a way of submission, and remissenesse, and attemp­ted to extinguish that rage and hurly-burly, rather by way of following, than of guiding, and by requiring sute, than by demonstrative resolution: and I deeme a gratiously-milde severitie, with a militarie commandement, full of confidence and securitie, beseeming his ranke, and the dignitie of his charge, had better availed him, had beene more successefull, at least with more honour, and well seeming comlinesse. There is nothing lesse to bee ex­pected or hoped for at the hands of this monstrous-faced-multitude, thus agitated by furie, then humanitie and gentlenesse; it will much sooner receive reverence, and admit feare. I might also blame him, that having vndertaken a resolution (in my judgement, rather brave then rash) to cast himselfe inconsiderately, weake and vnarmed, amidst a tempestuous O­cean of sencelesse and mad men, he should have gone through-stitch with it, and not leave the person he represented in the briers, whereas, after he had perceived the danger at hand, he chanced to bleede at the nose; and then to change that demisse and flattering counte­nance he had vndertaken, into a dismaide and drooping looke, filling both voice and eyes with astonishment and repentance: and seeking to squat himselfe, hee the more en­flamed, and called them vpon him. It was determined, there should be a generall muster made of divers troupes of armed men (a place fittest for secret revenges, and where they may safest be atchieved) there were most apparant reasons, that the place was very vnsure, or at least, to be suspected, by such as were to have the principall and necessary charge to sur­vey them. Divers counsels were proposed, sundry opinions heard, as in a subject of great difficultie, and on which depended so many weightie consequences. My advise was, they should carefully avoide to give any testimonie of suspition, or shew of doubt, and that our troupes should be as full as might be, and the Fyles orderly ranked, and every Souldier shew an vndanted carriage, and vndismaied countenance, and in stead of keeping some of our forces backe (which thing most opinions aimed at) all Captaines should be put in minde to admonish their Souldiers to make their sallies as orderly and as strong as might be, in honour of the assistance; and spare no powder, which would serve as a gratification to­ward these suspectfull troupes, which afterward caused a mutuall and profitable confidence. I finde the course that Iu [...]s Caesar held to be the best a man may take: First he asseved by clemencie to purchase the love of his very enemies, contenting himselfe in the conspiracies that were discovered vnto him, simply to shew they were not vnknowen to him, but had perfect notice of them. That done, he tooke a most noble resolution, which was, without dread or dismay, or any care-taking, to attend whatsoever might betide him, wholy abando­ning and remitting himselfe into the hands of the Gods and of fortune. For certainely, it is the state wherein he was, when he was murthered in the Senate. A stranger having pub­lished every where, that he could teach Dionysius the tyrant of Siracusa away to vnderstand and discover the very certaintie of all the practises, his subjects or any else should practise a­gainst him, if he would bestow a good summe of money vpon him: Dionysius being thereof advertised, sent for him, to discover the secret and vnderstand the truth of so necessarie an arte for his preservation: the stranger tolde him, there was no other skill in his arte, but that [Page 60] he should deliver him a talent, and then boast hee had learned the vse of so vnvaluable a secret of him. Dionysius allowed of his invention, and forthwith caused six hundred crownes to be delivered him. It is not likely that ever he would have given so great a summe of mony to an vnknowne man, but in reward of a most profitable instruction; for by way of this reputaion he kept his enemies still in awe. And therefore doe Princes wisely publish such advertisements as they receive of the plots conspired, and treasons, practised against their lives and states, thereby to make men beleeve, that nothing can be attempted against them, but they shall have knowledge of it. The Duke of Athens committed many fond oversights in the establishing of his late tyrannie vpon the Florentines, but this the chiefest, that having received the first advertisement of the Monopolies and Complots the Florentines contrived against him, by Mathew, surnamed Morozo, one of the complices, thinking to suppresse this warning, and conceale that any in the Citie were offended at him, or grudged at his rule, caused him immediatly to be put to death. I remember to have heretofore read the storie of a Romane (a man of speciall dignitie) who flying the tyrannie of the Triumuirate, had many times by the sutteltie of his invention, escaped those who pursued him. It fortuned vpon a day, that a troupe of horse-men, who had the charge to apprehend him, passing alongst a hedge, vnder which he lay lurking, had well nigh discovered him; which he perceiving, and considering the dangers and difficulties he had so long endured, thinking, to save himselfe from the continuall and daily searches that every where were made after him, and calling to minde the small pleasure he might hope of such a life, and how much better it were for him to die once, than live in such continuall feare and agonie, himselfe called them, and volunta­rily discovered his lurking hole, and that he might ridde them and himselfe from further pursuite and care, did willingly yeeld vnto their crueltie. For a man to call his enemies to aid him, is a counsell somewhat rash, yet thinke I, it were better to embrace it, than remaine still in the continuall fit of such a feaver that hath no remedie. But since the provisions of man may apply vnto it, are full of vnquietnesse and vncertaintie, much better is it with a full as­surance to prepare himselfe patiently to endure whatsoever may happen, and draw some comfort from that, which a man is never sure shall come to passe.

The foure and twentieth Chapter.

I Have in my youth oftentimes beene vexed, to see a Pedant brought in, in most of Italian comedies, for a vice or sporte-maker, and the nicke-name of Magister to be of no bet­ter signification amongst vs. For, my selfe being committed to their tuition, how could I chuse but be somewhat jealous of their reputation? In deed I sought to excuse them by reason of the naturall disproportion, that is betweene the vulgar sort, and rate and excellent men, both in judgement and knowledge: forsomuch as they take a cleane contrarie course one from another. But when I considered, the choysest men were they, that most contem­ned them, I was far to seeke, and as it were lost my selfe, witnesse our good Bellaye:

Yet is this custome very ancient; for Plutarch saith, that Greeke and Scholer, were amongest the Romans, words of reproach and imputation. And comming afterwards to yeares of more discretion, I have found they had great reason, and that, magis magnos clericos, non sunt magis magnos sapientes. The most greatest Clarkes is not the most wisest men. But whence it may proceed, that a minde rich in knowledge, and of so many things, becommeth thereby never livelier nor more quicke-sighted; and a grose-headed, and vulgare spirit, may without amendment, containe the discourse and judgement of the most excellent wits, the world ever produced, I still remaine doubtfull. To receive so many, so strange, yea and so great wits, it must needs follow (said once a Lady vnto me, yea one of our chiefest Princesses, speaking of some bo­dy) [Page 61] that a mans owne wit, force, droope, and as it were diminish it selfe, to make roome for others. I might say, that as plants are choked by over-much moisture, and lamps dammed with too much oyle, so are the actions of the mind over-whelmed by over-aboundance of matter and studie: which occupied and intangled with so great a diversitie of things, looseth the mean to spread and cleare it selfe; and that surcharge keepeth it low-drooping and faint. But it is otherwise, for our mind stretcheth the more by how much more it is replenished. And in examples of former times, the contrary is seene, of sufficient men in the managing of publike affaires, of great Captaines, and notable Counsellers in matters of estate, to have been there­withall excellently wise. And concerning Philosophers, retired from all publike negotiati­ons, they have indeed sometimes been vilified, by the comike libertie of their times, then opinions and demeanors yeelding them ridiculous. Will you make them judges of the right of a processe, or of the actions of a man? They are readie for it. They enquire whe­ther there be any life yet remaining, whether any motion. Whether man be any thing but an Oxe, what working or suffering is; what strange beasts law and justice are. Speake they of the Magistrate, or speake they vnto him? They do it with an vnreverent and vncivill li­bertie. Heare they a Prince or a King commended? Hee is but a shepheard to them, as idle as a Swaine busied about milking of his cattell, or shearing of his sheepe: but yet more rudely. Esteeme you any man the greater for possessing two hundred acres of land? They scoffe at him, as men accustomed to embrace all the world, as their possession. Do you boast of your Nobilitie, because you can blazon your descent of seaven or eight rich Grandfa­thers? They will but little regard you, as men that conceive not the vniversall image of na­ture, and how many predecessors every one of vs hath had, both rich and poore, kings and groomes, Greekes and Barbarians. And were you lineally descended in the fiftieth degree from Hercules, they deeme it a vanitie to vaunt or alleadge this gift of fortune. So did the vulgare sort disdaine them as ignorant of the first and common things, and as presumptu­ous and insolent. But this Platonicall lustre is far from that which our men stand in need of. They were envied as being beyond the common sort, as despising publike actions, as having proposed vnto themselves a particular and inimitable life, aiming and directed at certaine high discourses, and from the common vse: these are disdained as men beyond the ordinary fashion, as incapable of publike charges, as leading an vnsociable life, and professing base and abject customes, after the vulgar kind. Odi homines ignavos opera, Philosophos sententia. Pac [...]i [...]s Lip [...]. l. 1. c. 10. I hate men that are fooles in working, and Philosophers in speaking. As for those Philosophers, I say, that as they were great in knowledge, so were they greater in all action. And even as they report of that Syracusan Geometrician, who being taken from his bookish contempla­tion, to shew some practise of his skill, for the defence of his countrie, reared sodainly certain terror-moving engines, and shewed effects farre exceeding all mens conceit, himselfe not­withstanding disdaining all this his handie-worke, supposing he had thereby corrupted the dignitie of his arte; his engines and manuall works being but the apprentiships, and trials of his skill in sport. So they, if at any time they have been put to the triall of any action, they have been seen to flie so high a pitch, and with so loftie a flight, that men might apparantly see their minds and spirits were through the intelligence of things, become wonderfully rich and great. But some perceiving the seat of politike government possessed by vnworthy and incapable men, have withdrawne themselves from it. And hee who demaunded of Cra­tes, how long men should Philosophize, received this answere, vntill such time as they who have the conduct of our Armies be no longer blockish asses. Heraclitus resigned the roial­tie vnto his brother. And to the Ephesians, who reproved him for spending his time in playing with children before the temple: hee answered, And is it not better to doe so, then to governe the publike affaires in your companie? Others having their imagination pla­ced beyond fortune and the world, found the seat of justice, and the thrones of Kings, to be but base and vile. And Empedocles refused the royaltie, which the Agrigentines offered him. Thales sometimes accusing the carke and care men tooke about good husbandry, and how to grow rich; some replied vnto him, that he did as the Fox, because he could not at­taine vnto it himselfe: which hearing, by way of sport he would needs shew by experience how he could at his pleasure become both thriftie and rich; and bending his wits to gaine and profit, erected a traffike, which within one yeare brought him such riches, as the skil­fullest in the trade of thriving, could hardly in all their life devise how to get the like. That [Page 62] which Aristotle reporteth of some, who called both him, and Anaxagoras, and such like men, wise, and not prudent, because they cared not for things more profitable: besides, I do not verie well digest this nice difference of words, that serveth my find-fault people for no excuse: and to see the base and needie fortune, wherewith they are content, we might rather have just cause to pronounce them, neither wise nor prudent. I quit this first reason, and thinke it better to say, that this evill proceedeth from the bad course they take to follow sciences; and that respecting the manner we are instructed in them, it is no wonder if neither Schollers nor Masters, howbeit they proove more learned, become no whit more sufficient. Verily the daily care, and continuall charges of our fathers, aymeth at nothing so much, as to store our heads with knowledge and learning; as for judgement and vertue, that is never spoken of. If a man passe by, crie out to our people; Oh what a wise man goeth yonder? And of another: Oh what a good man is yonder? He will not faile to cast his eyes and respect toward the former. A third crier were needfull, to say, Oh what blocke-heads are those! We are ever readie to aske, Hath he any skill in the Greeke and Latine tongue? can he write well? doth hee write in prose or verse? But whether hee be growne better or wiser, which should be the chie­fest of his drift, that is never spoken of, we should rather enquire who is better wise, then who is more wise. We labour, and toyle, and plod to fill the memorie, and leave both vn­derstanding and conscience emptie. Even as birds flutter and skip from field to field to pecke vp corne, or any graine, and without tasting the same, carrie it in their bils, there­with to feed their little ones; so do our pedants gleane and picke learning from bookes, and never lodge it further then their lips, onely to degorge and cast-it to the wind. It is strange how fitly sottisnnesse takes hold of mine example. Is not that which I doe in the greatest part of this composition, all one and selfe same thing? I am ever heer and there picking and culling, from this and that booke, the sentences that please me, not to keepe them (for I have no store-house to reserve them in) but to transport them into this: where, to say truth, they are no more mine, then in their first place: we are (in mine opinion) never wise, but by present learning, not by that which is past, and as little by that which is to come. But which is worse, their Schollers, and their little ones are never a whit the more fed or better nourished: but passeth from hand to hand, to this end onely, thereby to make a glorious shew, therewith to entertaine others, and with it's helpe to frame some quaint stories, or prettie tales, as of a light and counterfeit coyne, vnprofitable for any vse or im­ployment, but to reckon and cast acompts. Apud alios loqui didicerunt, non ipsi secum. Non Se [...]. epist. 108. est loquendum, sed gubernandum. They have learned to speake with others, not with themselves, speaking is not so requisite as governement. Nature, to shew that nothing is savage in whatso­ever she produceth, causeth oftentimes, even in rudest and most vnarted nations, producti­ons of spirits to arise, that confront and wrestle with the most artist productions. As con­cerning my discourse, is not the Gaskonie proverbe, drawne from a bag-pipe, prettie and quaint? Bouha prou bouha, mas à remuda lous dits quèm. You may blow long enough, but if once you stirre your fingers, you may go seeke. Wee can talke and prate, Cicero saith thus, These are Platoes customes, These are the verie words of Aristotle; but what say we our selves? what do we? what judge we? A Peroquet would say as much. This fashion puts me in mind of that rich Romane, who to his exceeding great charge had beene verie industrious to finde out the most sufficient men in all sciences, which he continually kept about him, that if at any time, occasion should bee moved amongst his friends to speake of any matter pertaining to Schollership, they might supplie his place, and be readie to assist him: some with discourse, some with a verse of Homer, othersome with a sentence, eachone according to his skill or profession; who perswaded himselfe that all such learning was his owne, be­cause it was contained in his servants minds. As they doe whose sufficiencie is placed in their sumptuous libraries. I know some, whom if I aske what he knoweth, hee will require a booke to demonstrate the same, and durst not dare to tell me that his posteriors are sea­bious, except he turne over his Lexicon to see what posteriors and scabious is, wee take the opinions and knowledge of others into our protection, and that is all: I tell you they must be enfeoffed in vs, and made our owne. Wee may verie well be compared vnto him, who having neede of fire, should goe fetch some at his neighbours chimney, where finding a good fire, should there stay to warme himselfe, forgetting to carrie some home, what availes it vs to have our bellies full of meat, if it be not digested? if it bee not [Page 63] transchanged in vs? except it nourish, augment, and strengthen vs? May we imagine that Lucullus, whom learning made and framed so great a Captaine without experience, would have taken it after our manner? We relie so much vpon other mens armes, that we disanull our owne strength. Will I arme my selfe against the feare of death? it is at Senecaes cost: will I draw comfort either for my selfe, or any other? I borrow the same of Cicero. I would have taken-it in my selfe, had I been exercised vnto it, I love not this relative and begd-for suffi­ciencie. Suppose we may be learned by other mens learning. Sure I am, we can never be wise, but by our owne wisedome.

Ex quo Ennius: Nequidquam sapere sapientem, qui ipsi sibi prodesse non quiret. Whereupon Ennius. saith Ennius. That wise man is vainly wise, who could not profit himselfe.

Non enim paranda nobis solùm, sed fruenda sapientia est. For, wee must not onely purchase wise­dome, Cic. Finib. lib. 1. p. but enioy and employ the same. Dionysius scoffeth at those Gramarians, who ploddingly labour to know the miseries of Ʋlysses, and are ignorant of their owne; mocketh those Mu­sitians, that so attentively tune their instruments, and neuer accord their manners; derideth those Orators, that studie to speake of justice, and never put it in execution. Except our mind be the better, vnlesse our judgement be the sounder, I had rather my scholler had em­ploied his time in playingat Tennis; I am sure his bodie would be the nimbler. See but one of these our vniversitie men or bookish schollers returne from schoole, after he hath there spent ten or twelve yeares vnder a Pedants charge: who is so vnapt for any matter? who so vnfit for any companie? who so to seeke if he come into the world? all the advantage you discover in him, is, that his Latine and Greeke, have made him more sottish, more stupide, and more presumptuous, then before he went from home. Whereas he should returne with a mindfull-fraught, he returnes with a wind-puft conceit: in stead of plum-feeding the same, he hath onely spunged it vp with vanitie. These Masters, as Plato speaketh of Sophisters (their cosin germanes) of all men, are those, that promise to be most profitable vnto men, and alone, amongst all, that not onely amend not what is committed to their charge, as doth a carpenter or a mason, but empaire and destroy the same, and yet they must full dearely be paied. If the law which Protagoras proposed to his disciples, were followed, which was, that either they should pay-him according to his word, or sweare in the temple, how much they esteemed the profit they had received by his discipline, and accordingly satisfie him for his paines, my Pedagogues would be aground, especially if they would stand to the oath of my experience. My vulgar Perigordin-speech doth verie pleasantly terme such selfe-con­ceited wisards, Letter-ferits, as if they would say letter strucken men, to whom (as the com­mon saying is) letters have given a blow with a mallet. Verily for the most part they seeme to be distracted even from common sense. Note but the plaine husbandman, or the vnwilie shoomaker, and you see them simply and naturally plod on their course, speaking onely of what they know, and no further; whereas these letter-puft pedants, because they would faine raise themselves aloft, and with their litterall doctrine which floteth vp and downe the superficies of their braine, arme themselves beyond other men, they vncessantly intri­cate and entangle themselves: they vtter loftie words, and speake golden sentences, but so that another man doth place, fit, and applie them. They are acquainted with Galen, but know not the disease. They will stuffe your head with lawes, when God wot they have not yet conceived the ground of the case. They know the Theorike of all things, but you must seeke who shall put it in practise. I have seene a friend of mine, in mine owne house, who by way of sport talking with one of these pedanticall gulls, counterfeited a kind of fusti­an tongue, and spake a certaine gibrish, without rime or reason, sans head or foote, a hotch-pot of diverse things, but that he did often enterlace it with inke-pot termes, incident to their disputations, to ammuse the bookish sot for a whole day long with debating and contending; ever thinking he answered the Objections made vnto him; yet was he a man of [Page 64] letters, and reputation, a graduate, and wore a goodly formall long gowne.

Whosover shall narrowly looke into this kind of people, which far and wide hath spred it selfe, he shall find (as I have done,) that for the most part, they neither vnderstand them­selves, nor others, and that their memorie is many times sufficiently full fraught, but their judgement ever hollow & emptie: except their naturall inclination have of it selfe otherwise fashioned them. As I have seene Adrianus Turnebus, who having never professed any thing but studie and letters, wherein he was, in mine opinion, the worthiest man that lived these thousand yeares, and who notwithstanding had no Pedanticall thing about him, but the wearing of his gowne, and some externall fashions, that could not well be reduced, and inci­vilized to the courtiers cut; things of no consequence. And I naturally hate our people, that will more hardly endure a long roabe vncuriously worne, then a crosse skittish mind: & that observe what leg, or reverence he makes, note his garbe or demeanor, view his boots, or his hat, and marke what maner of man he is. For his inward parts, I deeme him to have been one of the most vnspotted and truly honest minds that ever was. I have sundry times of purpose vrged him to speake of matters furth est from his study, wherein he was so cleare-sighted, and could with so quicke an apprehension conceive, and with so sound a judgement distinguish them, that he seemed never to have professed or studied other facultie then warre, and mat­ters of state. Such spirits, such natures may be termed worthy, goodly, and solide.

That maintaine themselves against any bad institution. Now it sufficeth not that our institution marre vs not, it must change vs to the better. There are some of our Pa [...]haments and Courts, who when they are to admit of any officers, doe only examine them of their learning; others, that by presenting them the judgement of some law cases, endevour to sound their vnderstanding. Me thinks the latter keep the better stile: And albeit these two parts are necessarie, and both ought to concur in one, yet truely should that of learning be lesse prized then judgement, this may well be without the other, and not the other without this. For as the Greeke verse saith.

Whereto serveth learning, if vnderstanding be not joyned to it? Oh would to God, that for the good of our justice, the societies of Lawyers were as well stored with judgement, dis­cretion, and conscience, as they are with learning and wit. Non vitae, sed scholae discimus. We [...]n epist. 106. f. learne not for our life, but for the schoole. It is not enough to joyne learning and knowledge to the minde, it should be incorporated vnto it: it must not be sprinckled, but dyed with it; and if it change not and better hir estate (which is imperfect) it were much better to leave it. It is a dangerous Sword, and which hindreth and offendeth hir master, if it be in a weake hand, and which hath not the skill to manage the same: Vt fuerit melius non didicisse: So as it were better that we had not learned. It is peradventure the cause, that neither we, nor divinitie re­quire not much learning in women; and that Francis Duke of Britannie, sonne to Iohn the fifth, when he was spoken vnto for a marriage betweene him and Isabel a daughter of Scot­land; and some told him she was but meanly brought vp, and without any instruction of learning, answered, hee loved hir the better for it, and that a woman was wise enough, if she could but make a difference betweene the shirt and dublet of hir husbands. It is also no such wonder (as some say) that our auncesters did never make any great accompt of Let­ters, and that even at this day (except it be by chaunce) they are not often found in our Kings or Princes chiefest councels and consultations: And if the end to grow rich by them, which now-adaies is altogether proposed vnto vs by the studie of Law, of Phisicke, of Pe­dantisme, and of Divinitie; did not keep them in credit, without doubt you should see them [Page 65] as beggarly and needy, and as much vilified as ever they were. ‘And what hurt I pray you, since they neither teach vs to think well, nor do well? Postquam docti prodiderunt, boni desunt. Se [...]. epist. 95. Since men became learned, good men failed. Each other science is prejudiciall vnto him, that hath not the science of goodnesse.’ But may not the reason I whilome sought for, also pro­ceed thence? That our studie in France, having as it were no other aime but profit, but those lesse whom nature hath produced to more generous offices, then lucrative, giving them­selves vnto learning, or so briefely (before they have apprehended any liking of them, retired vnto a profession that hath no communitie with bookes) there are then none left, altogether to engage themselves to studie and Bookes, but the meaner kind of people, and such as are borne to base fortune, and who by learning and letters seek some meane to live, and enrich themselves. The minds of which people being both by naturall inclination, by example, and familiar institution, of the basest stampe, do falsely reap the fruit of learning. For it is not in hir power to give light vnto the mind, that hath none, nor to make a blind man to see. The mysterie of it is not to affoord him sight, but to direct it for him, to addresse his goings, al­waies provided he have feet of his owne, and good, straite, and capable legs. Knowledge is an excellent drug, but no drug is sufficiently strong to preserve it selfe without alteration or corruption, according to the fault of the vessell, that containes it. Some man hath a cleare sight, that is not right-sighted; and by consequence seeth what good is, and doth not follow it; and seeketh knowledge, but makes no vse of it. The chiefest ordinance of Plato in his com­mon wealth is, to give vnto his Citizens their charge, according to their nature. Nature can do all, and doth all. The crookt backt, or deformed, are vnfit for any exercise of the bodie, and crooked and mishappen minds vnproper for exercises of the minde. The bastard and vulgar sort are vnworthy of Philosophie. When we see a man ill shod, if he chaunce to be a Shoomaker, wee say it is no wonder, for commonly none goes worse shod then they. Even so it seemes, that experience doth often shew vs, a Phisitian lesse healthy, a Divine lesse reformed, and most commonly a Wiseman lesse sufficient then an other. Aristo Chius had heeretofore reason to say, that Philosophers did much hurt to their auditors, forasmuch as the greatest number of minds are not apt to profit by such instructions, which, if they take not a good, they will follow a bad course: [...] Aristippi, acerbos ex Zenonis schola Cic. Nat. Deor. li. 3. exire. They proceed licentious out of the Schoole of Aristippus, but bitter out of the Schoole of Zeno. In that excellent institution which Zenophon giveth the Persians, wee find, ‘that as other Nations teach their children Letters, so they taught theirs vertue. Plato said the eldest borne sonne, in their royall succession, was thus taught. As soone as he was borne, he was delivered, not to women, but to such Eunuches, as by reason of their vertue were in chiefest authoritie about the King. Their speciall charge was first to shapen his limmes and bodie, goodly, and healthy; and at seaven yeares of age, they instructed and inured him to sit on horsebacke, and to ride a hunting: when he came to the age of fourteene, they delivered him into the hands of foure men, that is to say, the wisest, the justest, the most temperate, and the most valiant of all the nation. The first taught him religion; the second, to be ever vpright and true; the third, to become Master of his owne desires; and the fourth, to feare nothing. It is a thing worthy great consideration, that in that excellent, and as I may terme it, matchlesse pollicie of Lycurgus,’ and in truth, by reason of her perfection, monstrous, yet notwithstanding, so carefull for the education of children, as of her principall charge, and even in the Muses bosome and resting-place, there is so little mention made of learning: as if that generous youth disdaining all other yokes but of vertue, ought onely be furnished, in liew of tutors of learning, with masters of volour, of justice, of wisedome, and of tempe­rance. An example which Plato hath imitated in his Lawes. The manner of their disci­pline was, to propound questions vnto them, teaching the judgement of men and of their actions: and if by way of reason or discourse, they condemned or praised, either this man, or that deede, they must be told the trueth and best: by which meanes at once they sharp­ned their wits, and learned the right. Af [...]ages in Zenophon calleth Cyrus to an accompt of his last lesson: It is (saith he) that a great lad in our Schoole, having a little coate, gave it to one of his fellowes, that was of lesser stature than himselfe, and tooke his coate from him, which was too big for him: our Master having made me judge of that difference, I judged that things must be left in the state they were in, and that both seemed to be better fitted as they were; whereupon he shewed me, I had done ill; because I had not onely considered the [Page 66] comelinesse, where I should chiefly have respected justice, which required, that none should be forced in any thing which properly belonged to him, and said, he was whi [...]t for it, as we are in our countrie-townes, when we have forgotten the first preterperfect tense or A [...] ­rist [...]e of [...]. My Regent might long enough make me a prolixe and cunning Oration in genere demonstrativo, in the oratorie kind of praise or dispraise, before ever hee should perswade me his Schoole is worth that. They have gone about to make the way shorter: and since Sciences (even when they are right taken) can teach vs nothing but wisedome, honestie, in­tegritie, and resolution; they have at first sight, attempted to put their children to the pro­per of effects, and instruct them, not by heare-say, but by assay of action, lively modelling and framing them, not onely by precepts and wordes, but principally by examples and works, that it might not be a Science in their mind, but rather his complexion and habi­tude; not a purchase, but a naturall inheritance.

To this purpose when Agesilaus was demaunded, what his opinion was, children should learne: answered, What they should doe being men. It is no marvell, if such an institution have produced so admirable effects. Some say, that in other Cities of Greece they went to seeke for Rhetoricians, for Painters, and for Musicians▪ whereas in L [...]d [...]m [...], they fought for Law-givers, for Magistrates, and Generals of a [...]s: In A44Span [...]s men learn'd to say well, but heere, to doe well: there to resolve a sophisticall argument, and to confound the imposture and amphibologie of words, captiously enterlaced together; heere to shake off the allurements of voluptuousnesse, and with an vndanted courage to contemne the threats of fortune, and reject the menaces of death: those busied and laboured themselves about idle wordes, these after martiall things: there the tongue was ever in continuall exercise of speaking, heere the minde in an vncessant practise of well-doing. And therefore was it not strange, if Antipater requiring fiftie of their children for hostages, they answered cleane contrarie to that we would doe, that they would rather deliver him twice so many men; so much did they value and esteeme the losse of their countries education. When Agesilau [...] inv [...]t [...]h Xenophon to send his children to Sparta, there to be brought vp; it is not, because they should learne Rhetorike, or Logike, but, as himselfe saith, to the end they may learne the worthiest and best science that may bee [...]o wit, the knowledge how to obey, and the skill how to commaund. It is a sport to see Socrates, after his blunt manner, to mocke Hippias, who re­porteth vnto him, what great summes of money he had gained, especially in certaine little Cities, and small townes of Sicily, by keeping schoole, and teaching letters, and that at Sparta he could not get a shilling. That they were but Idiots and foolish people, who can neither measure nor esteeme; nor make no accompt of Grammer, or of Rythmes; and who onely ammuse themselves to know the succession of Kings, the establishing and declination of estates, and such like trash of flim-flam tales. Which done, Socrates forcing him particularly to allow the excellencie of their forme of publike government, the happinesse and vertue of their private life, remits vnto him to guesse the conclusion of the vnprofitablenesse of his artes. Examples teach vs both in this martiall policie, and in all such like, that the studie of sciences doth more weaken and esteminate mens minds, then corroborate and adapt them to warre. The mightiest, yea the best setled estate, that is now in the world, is that of the Turkes, a nation equally instructed to the esteeme of armes, and disesteeme of letters. I find Rome to have beene most valiant, when it was least learned. The most warlike nations of our daies, are the rudest and most ignorant. The Scithians, the Parthians, and Tamburlane, serve to verifie my saying. When the Gothes over-ran and ravaged Greece; that which sa­ved all their Libraries from the fire, was, that one among them, scattered this opinion, that such trash of bookes and papers must be left vntoucht and whole for their enemies, as the only meane, and proper instrument to divert them from all militarie exercises, and ammuse them to idle, secure, and sedentarie occupations. When our King Charles the eight, in a manner without vnsheathing his sword, saw himselfe absolute Lord of the whole king­dome of Naples, and of a great part of Thuscanie, the Princes and Lords of his traine, ascri­bed this sodaine, and vnhoped for victorie, and facilitie of so noble and prodigious a con­quest, only to this, that most of the Princes and nobilitie of Italie ammused themselves rather to become ingenious and wise by learning, then vigorous and warriers by militarie exercises.

The fiue and twentieth Chapter.

I Never knew father, how crooked and deformed soever his sonne were, that would ei­ther altogether cast him off, or not acknowledge him for his owne: and yet (vnlesse he be meerely besotted or blinded in his affection) it may not be said, but he plainly perceiveth his defects, and hath a feeling of his imperfections. But so it is, he is his owne. So is it in my selfe. I see better then any man else, that what I have set downe, is nought but the fond imagina­tions of him, who in his youth hath tasted nothing but the par [...]ng, and seen but the super­ficies of true learning: whereof he hath retained but a generall and shapelesse forme: a smacke of every thing in generall, but nothing to the purpose in particular: After the French manner. To be short, I know there is an arte of Phisicke; a course of lawes; foure parts of the Mathematikes; and I am not altogether ignorant, what they tend vnto. And perhaps I also know the scope and drift of Sciences in generall, to be for the service of our life. But to wade further, or that ever I tired my selfe with plodding vpon Aristotle (the Monarch of our moderne doctrine) or obstinately continued in the search of any one science: I confesse I never did it. Nor is there any one arte, whereof I am able so much as to draw the first line­aments. And there is no scholler (be he of the lowest forme) that may not repute himselfe wiser then I, who am not able to appose him in his first lesson: and if I be forced to it, I am constrained verie impertinently to draw in matter from some generall discourse, whereby I examine, and give a guesse at his naturall judgement: a lesson as much vnknowne to them, as theirs is [...]. I [...]ve not dealt or had commerce with any excellent booke, except Plu­tarke or Sene [...], from whom (as the Dan [...]ïdes) I draw my water, vncessantly filling, and as fast emptying: some thing whereof I fasten to this paper, but to my selfe nothing at all. And touching bookes: Historie is my chiefe studi [...], Poesie my onely delight, to which I am par­ticularly affected: [...]or as Cl [...]s said, that as the voice being forciblie pent in the narrow g [...]t of a trumpet, at last issueth forth more strong and shriller, some seemes, that a sentence cunningly and closely couched in measure-keeping Posie, darts it selfe forth more furiously, and [...]ou [...]ds me even to the quicke. And concerning the naturall faculties that are in me, (whereof behold heere an essay) I perceive them to faint vnder their owne burthen; my con­ceits, and my judgement march but vncertaine, and as it were groaping, straggering, and stumbling at every rush: And when I have gone as far as I can, I have no whit pleased my selfe: for the further I saile, the more land I descrie, and that so dimmed with fogges, and over-cast with cloudes, that my sight is so weakned, I cannot distinguish the same. And then vndertaking to speake indifferently of all that presents it selfe vnto my fantasie, and having nothing but mine owne naturall meanes to imploy therein, if it be my hap (as commonly it is) among good Authors, to light vpon those verie places which I haue vndertaken to treat off, as even now I did in Plutarke, reading his discourse of the power of imagination, wherein in regard of those wise men, I acknowledge my selfe so weake, and so poore, so dull and grose-headed, as I am forced both to pittie and disdaine my selfe, yet am I pleased with this, that my opinions have often the grace to jumpe with theirs, and that I follow them a loofe off, and thereby possesse at least, that which all other men have not; which is, that I know the vtmost difference betweene them and my selfe: all which notwithstanding I suf­fer my inventions to run abroad, as weake and faint, as I have produced them, without bungling and botching the faults, which this comparison hath discovered to me in them. A man had need have a strong backe, to vndertake to march foote to foote with these kind of men. The indiscreet writers of our age, amidst their triviall compositions, inter­mingle and wrest in whole sentences taken from ancient Authors, supposing by such filch­ing-theft to purchase honour and reputation to themselves, doe cleane contrarie. For, this infinite varietie and dissemblance of lustres, makes a face, so wan, so il-favored, and so vglie, in respect of theirs, that they loose much more then gaine thereby. These were two con­trarie [Page 68] humours: The Philosopher Chrisippus was wont to foist-in amongst his bookes, not onely whole sentences, and other long long discourses, but whole bookes of other Authors, as in one, he brought in Euripides his Medea. And Appollodorus was wont to say of him, that if one should draw from out his bookes, what he had stolne from others, his paper would remaine blanke. Where as Epicurus cleane contrarie to him in three hundred volumes, he left behind him, had not made vse of one allegation. It was my fortune not long since to light vpon such a place: I had languishingly traced after some French words, so naked and shallow, and so void either of sence or matter, that at last I found them to be nought but meere French words; and after a tedious and wearisome travell, I chanced to stumble vpon an high, rich, and even to the clouds-raised piece, the descent whereof had it been some­what more pleasant or easie, or the ascent reaching a little further, it had been excusable, and to be borne-withall; but it was such a steepie downe-fall, and by meere strength he­wen out of the maine rocke, that by reading of the first sixe words, me thought I was carried into another world: whereby I perceive the bottome whence I came to be so low and deep, as I durst never more adventure to go through it; for, if I did stuffe any one of my discour­ses with those rich spoiles, it would manifestly cause the sottishnesse of others to appeare. To reprove mine owne faults in others, seemes to me no more vnsufferable, then to repre­hend (as I doe often) those of others in my selfe. They ought to be accused everywhere, and have all places of Sanctuarie taken from them: yet do I know how over-boldly, at all times I adventure to equall my selfe vnto my filchings, and to march hand in hand with them; not without a fond-hardie hope, that I may perhaps be able to bleare the eyes of the judges from discerning them. But it is as much for the benefit of my application, as for the good of mine invention and force. And I doe not furiously front, and bodie to bodie wrestle with those old champions: it is but by sleights, advantages, and false-offers I seek to come within them, and if I can, to give them a fall. I do not rashly take them about the necke, I do but touch them, nor do I go so far as by my bargaine I would seeme to doe; could I but keepe even with them, I should then be an honest man; for I seeke not to venture on them, but where they are strongest. To doe as I have seen some, that is, to shroud themselves vnder others armes, not daring so much as to show their fingers ends vnarmed, and to botch vp all their works (as it is an easie matter in a common subiect, namely for the wiser sort) with anci­ent inventions, heere and there hudled-vp together. And in those who endevored to hide what they have filched from others, and make it their owne, it is first a manifest note of inju­stice, then a plaine argument of cowardlinesse; who having nothing of any worth in them­selves to make show of, will yet vnder the countenance of others sufficiencie goe about to make a faire offer: Moreover (oh great foolishnesse) to seek by such cosening tricks to fore­stall the ignorant approbation of the common sort, nothing fearing to discover their igno­rance to men of vnderstanding (whose praise onely is of value) who will soone trace out such borrowed ware. As for me, there is nothing I will doe lesse. I never spake of others, but that I may the more speake of my selfe. This concerneth not those mingle-mangles of many kinds of stuffe, or as the Grecians call them Rapsodies, that for such are published, of which kind I have (since I came to yeares of discretion) seen divers most ingenious and wittie; amongst others, one vnder the name of Capilupus; besides many of the ancient stampe. These are wits of such excellence, as both here and elsewhere they will soone be perceived, as our late famous writer Lipsius, in his learned and laborious work of the Polit [...]kes: yet what­soever come of it, for so much as they are but follies, my intent is not to smother them, no more then a bald and hoarie picture of mine, where a Painter hath drawne not a perfect vi­sage, but mine owne. For, howsoever, these are but my humors and opinions, and I deliver them but to show what my conceit is, and not what ought to be beleeved. Wherein I ayme at nothing but to display my selfe, who peradventure (if a new prentiship change me) shall be an other to morrow. I have no authoritie to purchase beliefe, neither do I de [...]ire it; knowing well that I am not sufficiently taught to instruct others. Some having read my precedent Chapter, told me not long since in mine owne house, I should somewhat more have ex­tended my selfe in the discourse concerning the institution of children. Now (Madam) if there were any sufficiencie in me, touching that subiect, I could not better imploy the same, then to bestow it as a present vpon that little lad, which ere long threatneth to make a hap­pie issue from out your honorable wombe: for (Madame) you are too generous to begin [Page 69] with other then a man childe. And having had so great a part in the conduct of your suc­cessefull marriage, I may challenge some right and interest in the greatnesse and prosperitie of all that shall proceed from it: moreover, the ancient and rightfull possession, which you from time to time have ever had, and still have over my service, vrgeth me with more then ordinarie respects, to wish all honour, well-fare and advantage to whatsoever may in any sort concerne you and yours. And truely, my meaning is, but to shew, that the greatest dif­ficultie, and importing all humane knowledge, seemeth to be in this point, where the nurture and institution of young children is in question. For, as in matters of husbandrie the labor that must be vsed before sowing, setting, and planting, yea in planting it selfe, is most certaine and easie. But when that which was sowen, set, and planted, commeth to take life; before it come to ripenesse, much adoe, and great varietie of proceeding belongeth to it. So in men, it is no great matter to get them, but being borne, what continuall cares, what diligent atten­dance, what doubts and feares, doe daily waite on their parents and tutors, before they can be nurtured and brought to any good? The fore-shew of their inclination whilest they are young is so vncertaine, their humours so variable, their promises so changing, their hopes so false, and their proceedings so doubtfull, that it is very hard, (yea for the wisest) to ground any certaine judgement, or assured successe vpon them. Behold Cymon, view Th [...]istocles, and a thousand others, how they have differed, and fallen to better from themselves, and deceive the expectation of such as knew them. The young whelps both of Dogges and Beares, at first sight shew their naturall disposition, but men headlong imbracing this custome or fashi­on, following that humor or opinion, admitting this or that passion, allowing of that of this law, are easily changed, and soone disguised; yet is it hard to force the naturall propension or readinesse of the mind, whereby it followeth, that for want of heedie fore-sight in those that could not guide their course well, they often employ much time in vaine, to addresse young children in those matters, whereunto they are not naturally addicted. All which difficul­ties notwithstanding, mine opinion is, to bring them vp in the best and pro [...]a [...]st studies, and that a man should slightly passe-over those fond presages, and deceiving prognostikes, which we over-precisely gather in their infancie. And (without offence be it said) me thinks, that Plato in his common-wealth alloweth them too▪too much authoritie.

Madame, Learning joyned with true knowledge is an especiall and gracefull ornament, and an implement of wonderfull vse and consequence, namely in persons raised to that de­gree of fortune, wherein you are. And in good trueth, learning hath not her owne true forme, nor can she make shew of her beauteous lineaments, if she fall into the hands of base and vile persons. [For, as famous Torquato Tasso saith; Philosōphie being a rich and no­ble Queene, and knowing her owne worth, graciously smileth vpon, and lovingly embra­ceth Princes and noble men, if they become suters to her, admitting them as her mini­ons, and gently affoording them all the favours she can; whereas vpon the contrarie, if she be wooed, and sued vnto by clownes, mechanicall fellowes, and such base kind of people, she holds hir selfe disparaged and disgraced, as holding no proportion with them. And ther­fore see we by experience, that if a true Gentleman, or nobleman follow hir with any atten­tion, and wooed her with importunitie, he shall learne and know more of hir, and proove a better scholler in one yeare, then an vngentle, or base fellow shal in seaven, though he pursue hir never so attentively.] She is much more readie and fierce to lend hir furtherance and direction in the conduct of a warre, to attempt honorable actions, to command a people, to treat a peace with a prince of forraine nation, then she is to forme an argument in Logick, to devise a Syllogisine, to canvase a case at the barre, or to prescribe a receit of pills. So (noble Ladie) forsomuch as I cannot perswade my selfe, that you will either forget or neglect this point, concerning the institution of yours, especially having tasted the sweetnesse thereof, and being descended of so noble and learned a race. For we yet possesse the learned compositi­ons of the ancient and noble Earles of Foix, from out whose heroicke loynes your husband and you take your of-spring. And Francis Lord of Candale your worthie vnckle, doth daily bring forth such fruits thereof, as the knowledge of the matchlesse qualitie of your house shall hereafter extend it selfe to many ages; I will therefore make you acquainted with one conceit of mine, which contrarie to the common vse I hold, and that is all I am able to affoord you, concerning that matter. The charge of the Tutor, which you shall appoint your sonne, in the choice of whom consisteth the whole substance of his education and [Page 70] bringing-vp; on which are many branches depending, which (forasmuch as I can adde no­thing of any moment to it) I will not touch at all. And for that point, wherein I presume to advise him, he may so far forth give credite vnto it, as he shall see just cause. To a gentleman borne of noble parentage, and heire of a house, that aymeth at true learning, and in it would be disciplined, not so much for gaine or commoditie to himselfe (because so abject an end is far vnworthie the grace and favour of the Muses, and besides, hath a regard or depen­dencie of others) nor for externall shew and ornament, but to adorne and enrich his inward minde, desiring rather to shape and institute an able and sufficient man, then a bare learned man. My desire is therefore, that the parents or overseers of such a gentleman be very cir­cumspect, and carefull in chusing his director, whom I would rather commend for having a well composed and temperate braine, then a full stuft head, yet both will doe well. And I would rather prefer wisedome, judgement, civill customes, and modest behaviour, then bare and meere litterall learning; and that in his charge he hold a new course. Some never cease brawling in their schollers eares (as if they were still po [...]ring in a tonell) to follow their booke, yet is their charge nothing else, but to repeat, what hath beene told them be­fore. I would have a tutor to correct this part, and that at first entrance, according to the capacitie of the wit he hath in hand, he should begin to make shew of it, making him to have a smacke of all things, and how to chuse and distinguish them, without helpe of others, some­times opening him the way, other times leaving him to open-it by himselfe. I would not have him to invent and speake alone, but suffer his disciple to speake when his turne com­meth. Socrates, and after him Arc [...]silaus, made their schollers to speak first, and then would speake them-selves. Obest plerumque ijs qui discere volunt, auctoritas eorum, qui docent. Most [...]c. D [...] Nat. lib. 1. commonly the authoritie of them that teach, hinders them that would learn [...].

It is therefore meet, that he make him first trot-on before him, whereby he may the better judge of his pace, and so guesse how long he will hold out, that accordingly he may fit his strength: for want of which proportion, we often marre-all. And to know how to make a good choice, and how far forth one may proceed (still keeping a due measure) is one of the hardest labours I know. It is a signe of a noble, and effect of an vnd [...]nted spirit, to know how to second, and how far forth he shall condescend to his childish proceedings, and how to guide them. As for my selfe, I can better and with more strength walke vp, then downe a [...]ill. Those which according to our common fashion, vndertake with one selfe-same lesson, and like maner of education, to direct many spirits of diverse formes and different humours, it is no marvell if among a multitude of children, they scarse meet with two or three, that reap any good fruit by their discipline, or that come to any perfection. I would not onely have him to demaund an accompt of the words contained in his lesson, but of the sense and substance thereof, and judge of the profit he hath made of-it, not by the testimonie of his me­morie, but by the witnesse of his life. That what he lately learned, he cause him to set forth and pourtray the same into sundrie shapes, and then to accommodate-it to as many different and severall subiects; whereby he shall perceive, whether he have yet apprehended the same, and therein enfeoffed him-selfe, at due times taking his instruction from the institution gi­ven by Plato. It is a signe of cruditie and indigestion for a man to yeeld vp his meat, even as he swallowed the same: the stomacke hath not wrought his full operation, vnlesse it have changed forme, and altered fashion of that which was given him to boyle and concoct.

[We see men gape after no reputation but learning, and when they say, such a one is a learned man, they thinke they have said enough;] Our minde doth move at others plea­sure, as tyed and forced to serue the fantasies of others, being brought vnder by autho­ritie, and forced to stoope to the lure of their bare lesson; wee have beene so subjected to harpe vpon one string; that we have no way left-vs to descant vpon voluntarie: our vi­gor and libertie is cleane extinct. Nunquam tutelae suae fiunt. They never come to their owne tuition. It was my hap to bee familiarlie acquainted with an honest man at Pisa, but such an Aristotelian, as he held this infallible position; that a conformitie to Aristotles doctrine was the true touchstone and squire of all solide imaginations, and perfect veri­tie; for, whatsoever had no coherencie with-it, was but fond Chimeraes, and idle hu­mours; in asmuch as he had knowne-all, seen-all, and said-all. This proposition of his, being somewhat over-amply and iniuriously interpreted by some, made him a long time after to be troubled in the inquisition of Rome, I would have him make his scholler nar­rowly [Page 71] to sift all things with discretion, and harbour nothing in his head by meere autho­ritie, or vpon trust. Aristotles principles shall be no more axiomes vnto him, then the Stoikes or Epicurians. Let this diversitie of judgements be proposed vnto him, if he can, he shall be able to distinguish the truth from falsehood, if not, he will remaine doubtfull.

For if by his owne discourse he embrace the opinions of Xenophon, or of Plato, they shall be no longer theirs, but his. He that meerely followeth another, traceth nothing, and seek­eth nothing: Non sumus sub Rege, fibi quisque se vindicet. We are not vnder a Kings commaund, S [...]. epist. 33. every one may challenge himselfe, for let him at least know that he knoweth. It is requisite he in­devor as much to feed himselfe with their conceits, as labour to learne their precepts; which, so he know how to applie, let him hardly forget, where, or whence he had them. Truth and reason are common to all, and are no more proper vnto him that spake them heretofore, than vnto him that shall speake them hereafter. And it is no more according to Platoes opi­nion, than to mine, since both he and I vnderstand and see alike. The Be [...]s do heer and there sucke this, and cull that flower, but afterward they produce the hony, which is peculi­arly their owne, then is it no more Thyme or Majoram. So of peeces borrowed of others, he may lawfully alter, transforme, and confound them, to shape out of them a perfect peece of worke, altogether his owne; alwaies provided, his judgement, his travell, studie, and insti­tution tend to nothing, but to frame the same perfect. Let him hardly conceal, where, or whence he hath had any helpe, and make no shew of any thing, but of that which he hath made himselfe. Pirates, filchers, and borrowers, make a shew of their purchaces and buil­dings, but not of that which they have taken from others: you see not the secret fees o [...] bribes Lawyers take of their Clients, but you shall manifestly discover the alliances they make, the honours they get for their children, and the goodly houses they build. No man makes open shew of his receit [...], but every one of his gettings. The good that comes of studie (or at least should come) is to prove better, wiser, and honester. It is the vnderstanding power (said Epicharmus) that seeth and heareth, it is it, that profiteth all, and disposeth all, that moveth, swayeth, and ruleth all: all things else are but blind, sencelesse, and without spirit. And truely in barring him of libertie to doe any thing of himselfe, we make him thereby more servile and more coward. Who would ever enquire of his scholler what he thinketh of Rethorike, of Grammar, of this, or of that sentence of Cicero? Which things throughly fethered (as if they were oracles) are let flie into our memorie; in which both letters and sil­lables are substantiall parts of the subject. To know by roat is no perfect knowledge, but to keep what one hath committed to his memories charge, is commendable: what a man di­rectly knoweth, that will he dispose-of, without turning still to his booke, or looking to his pattern. A meere bookish sufficiencie is vnpleasant. All I expect of it, is an imbellishing of my actions, and not a foundation of them, according to Platoes mind, who saith, constancie, faith, and sinceritie, are true Philosophie; as for other Sciences, and tending else-where, they are but garish paintings. I would faine have Paluel or P [...]mpey, those two excellent dauncers of our time, with all their nimblenesse, teach any man to doe their loftie tricks, and high ca­pers, onely with seeing them done, and without stirring out of his place, as some Pedanticall fellowes would instruct our minds without mooving or putting it in practise. And glad would I be to find-one, that would teach vs how to manage a horse, to tosse a pike, to shoote-off a peece, to play vpon the l [...]te, or to warble with the voice, without any exercise, as these kind of men would teach vs to judge, and how to speake well, without any exercise of speaking or judging. In which kind of life, or as I may terme it, Prentiship, what action or object soever presents it-selfe vnto our eies, may serve-vs instead of a sufficient booke. A prettie pranke of a boy, a knavish tricke of a page, a foolish part of a lackey, an idle tale or any discourse-else, spoken either in jeast or earnest, at the table or in companie, are even as new subjects for-vs to worke-vpon: for furtherance whereof, commerce or common socie­tie among men, visiting of fortaine countries, and observing of strange fashions, are verie necessary, not only to be able (after the maner of our young gallants of France) to report how many paces the Church of S [...]ta Rotonda is in length or breadth, or what rich garments the curtezan Sig [...]ora Livia wea [...]eth, and the worth of her hosen; or as some do, nicely to dispute [Page 72] how much longer or broader the face of Nero is, which they have seene in some olde ruines of Italie, then that which is made for him in other olde monuments else-where. But they should principally observe, and be able to make certaine relation of the humours and fashi­ons of those countries they have seene, that they may the better know, how to correct and prepare their wits by those of others. I would therefore have him begin even from his infancie to travell abroad; and first, that at one shoote he may hit two markes, he should see neighbour-countries, namely where languages are most different from ours; for, vnlesse a mans tongue be fashioned vnto them in his youth, he shall never attaine to the true pro­nuntiation of them, if he once grow in yeares. Moreouer, we see it received as a common opinion of the wiser sort, that it agreeth not with reason, that a childe be alwaies nuzled, cockered, dandled, and brought vp in his parents lap or sight; forsomuch as their naturall kindnesse, or as I may call it tender fondnesse causeth often, even the wisest, to proove so idle, so over-nice, and so base-minded. For parents are not capable, neither can they find in their hearts to see them checkt, corrected, or chastised, nor indure to see them brought vp so meanly, and so far from daintinesse, and many times so dangerously, as they must needs be. And it would grieve them to see their children come home from those exercises, that a Gentleman must necessarily acquaint himselfe with, sometimes all wet and bemyred, other times sweatie, and full of dust, and to drinke being either extreame hote, or exceeding cold; and it would trouble them to see him ride a rough-vntamed horse, or with his weapon furi­ously incounter a skilfull Fencer, or to handle and shoote-off a musket; against which there is no remedy, if he will make him proove a sufficient, compleat, or honest man: he must not be spared in his youth; and it will come to passe, that he shall many times have occasion and be forced to shocke the rules of Physicke.

It is not sufficient to make his minde strong, his muskles must also be strengthned: the minde is over-borne if it be not seconded: and it is too much for hi [...] alone to discharge two offices. I have a feeling how mine panteth, being joined to so tender and sensible a bodie, and that lyeth so heavie vpon it. And in my lecture, I often perceive how my Authors in their writings sometimes commend examples for magnanimitie and force, that rather pro­ceed from a thicke skin and hardnes of the bones. I have knowne men, women and chil­dren borne of so hard a constitution, that a blow with a cudgell would lesse hurt them, then a filip would doe me, and so dull and blockish, that they will neither stir tongue nor eie­browes, beat them never so much. When wrestlers goe about to counterfeit the Philoso­phers patience, they rather shew the vigor of their sinnewes, then of their hart. For the cu­stome to beare travell, is to tolerate griefe: Labor callum obducit dolori. Labour worketh a Cic. Tus. qu li. 2 hardnesse vpon sorrow. Hee must be endured to suffer the paine and hardnesse of exercises, that so he may be induced to endure the paine of the colicke, of cauterie, of fals, of sprains, and other diseases incident to mans bodie: yea, if need require, patiently to beare imprison­ment, and other tortures, by which sufferance he shall come to be had in more esteeme and accompt: for according to time and place, the good as well as the bad man may happily fall into them; we have seen it by experience. Whosoever striveth against the lawes, threats good men with mischiefe and extortion. Moreover, the authoritie of the Tutor (who should be soveraigne over him) is by the cockering and presence of the parents, hindred and inter­rupted: besides the awe and respect, which the houshould beares him, and the knowledge of the meanes, possibilities, and greatnesse of his house, are in my judgement, no small lets in a yong Gentleman. In this schoole of commerce, and societie among men, I have often noted this vice, that in lieu of taking acquaintance of others, we onely indevor to make our selves knowne to them: and we are more ready to vtter such marchandize as we have, then to in­grosse & purchase new commodities. Silence and modestie are qualities verie conuenient to civil conversation. It is also necessary, that a yong man be rather taught to be discrectly-spa­ring, and close-handed, then prodigally-wastfull and lavish in his expences, and moderate in husbanding his wealth when he shall come to possesse it. And not to take pepper in the nose for every foolish tale that shal be spoken in his presence, because it is an vncivill importunity, [Page 73] to contradict, whatsoever is not agreeing to our humour: let him be pleased to correct him­selfe. And let-him not seeme to blame that in others, which he refuseth to doe himselfe, ‘nor goe about to withstand common fashions. Licet sapere sine pompa, sine invidia. A man may be Sen. ipist. 103 f. wise without ostentation, without envie. Let him avoid those imperious images of the world, those vncivill behaviours,’ and childish ambition, wherewith God-wot, too-too many are possest: that is, to make a faire shew of that, which is not in him: endevouring to be repu­ted other then indeed he is; and as if reprehension and new devises were hard to come by, he would by that meane acquire vnto himselfe, the name of some peculiar vertue. As it pertai­neth but to great Poets to vse the libertie of artes; so is-it tollerable but in noble minds, and great spirits to have a preheminence above ordinarie fashions. Si quid Socrates & Aristip­pus Cic. Off. lib 1. contra morem & consuetudinem fecerunt, idem sibi ne arbitretur licere: Magis enim illi & divinis bonis hanc licentiam assequebantur. If Socrates and Aristippus have done ought against custome or good manner, let not a man thinke he may doe the same: for they obtained this licence by their great and excellent good parts: He shall be taught, not to enter rashly into discourse or contesting, but when he shall encounter with a Champion, worthie his strength; And then would I not have him imploy all the tricks that may fit his turne, but only such as may stand him in most stead. That he be taught to be curious in making choice of his reasons, loving pertinency, and by consequence brevitie. That above all, he be instructed to yeeld, yea to quit his weapons vnto truth, as soone as he shall discerne the same, whether it proceed from his adversarie, or vpon better advice from himselfe; for, he shall not be preferred to any place of eminencie above others, for repeating of a prescript pa [...]t; and he is not engaged to defend any cause, further then he may approove it; nor shall he be of that trade, where the libertie for a man to repent and re-advise himselfe is sold for readie money. Neque, vt omnia, Cic. Acad. q [...]. lib. 4. que praescripta & imperata sint, defendat, necessitate vlla cogitur. Nor is he inforced by any necessi­tie to defend and make good all that is prescribed and commaunded him. If his tutor agree with my humour, he shall frame his affection, to be a most loyall and true subject to his Prince, and a most affectionate and couragious Gentleman, in all that may concerne the honor of his Soveraigne, or the good of his countrie. And endevour to suppresse in him all maner of affection to vndertake any action, otherwise then for a publike good and dutie. Besides ma­ny inconveniences, which greatly prejudice our libertie, by reason of these particular bonds; the judgement of a man that is waged and bought, either it is lesse free and honest, or else it is blemisht with oversight and ingratitude. A meere and precise Courtier, can neither have law nor will to speake or thinke, otherwise then favourablie of his Master, who among so many thousands of his subjects, hath made choice of him alone, to institute and bring him­vp with his owne hand. These favours, with the commodities that follow minion Court­tiers, corrupt (not without some colour of reason) his libertie, and dazle his judgement. It is therefore commonly seene, that the Courtiers-language differs from other mens, in the same state, and to be of no great credite in sūch matters. Let therefore his conscience and vertue shine in his speach, and reason be his chiefe direction. Let him be taught to con­fesse such faults as he shall discover in his owne discourses, albeit none other perceive them but himselfe; for it is an evident shew of judgement, and effect of sinceritie, which are the chiefest qualities he aymeth at. That wilfully to strive, and obstinately to contest in words, are common qualities, most apparant in basest mindes: That to re-advise and correct himselfe, and when one is most earnest, to leave an ill opinion; are rare, noble, and phi­losophicall conditions. Being in companie, he shall be put in minde, to cast his eyes round about, and every-where: For I note, that the chiefe places are vsually seazed vpon by the most vnworthie, and lesse capable; and that height of fortune is seldome joyned with suffi­ciencie. I have seene, that whilst they at the vpper end of a board were busie entertaining themselves, with talking of the beautie of the hangings about a chamber, or of the taste of some good cup of wine, many good discourses at the lower end, have vtterly been lost. He shall weigh the carriage of every man in his calling, a Heardsman, a Mason, a Stranger, or a traveller; all must be imployed; every one according to his worth; for all helps to make-vp houshold; yea, the follie and the simplicitie of others, shall be as instructions to him. By controlling the graces and maners of others, he shall acquire vnto himselfe envie of the good, and contempt of the bad. Let him hardly be possest with an honest curiositie to search out the nature and causes of all things: let him survay what soever is rare and singu­lare [Page 74] about him; a building, a fountaine, a man, a place where any battell hath been fought, or the passages of Caesar or Charlemaint.

He shall endevour to be familiarly acquainted with the customes, with the meanes, with the state, with the dependances and alliances of all Princes; they are things soone and plea­sant to be learned, and most profitable to be knowne. In this acquaintance of men, my mea­ning is, that hee chiefely comprehend them, that live but by the memorie of bookes. He shall, by the help of Histories, informe himselfe of the worthiest minds that were in the best ages. It is a frivolous studie, if a man list, but of vnvaluable worth, to such as can make vse of it. And as Plato saith, the onely studie the Lacedemon [...]ans res [...]ved for themselves. What profit shall he not reap, touching this point, reading the lives of our Plutarke? Al­waies conditioned, the master bethinke himselfe whereto his charge tendeth, and that he imprint not so much in his schollers mind the date of the ru [...]e of Carthage, as the manners of H [...]nniball and Scipio, nor so much where Marc [...]llus died, as because he was vnworthy of his devoire he died there: that he teach him not somuch to know Histories, as to judge of them. It is, amongst things that best agree with my humour, the subject to which our spirits doe most diversly applie themselves. I have read in T [...] Livi [...]s a number of things, which peradventure others never read, in whom Plutarke happly read a hundred [...]ore, then ever I could read, and which perhaps the author himselfe did never intend to [...]t downe. To some kind of men, it is a meere gramaticall studie, but to others a perfect anatomie of Phi­losophie; by meanes whereof, the secretest part of our nature is searched-into. There are in Plutarke many ample discourses most worthy to be knowne: for in my judgement▪ he is the chiefe work-master of such works, whereof there are a thousand, whereat he hath but slightly glanced; for with his finger he doth but point vs out a way to walke in, if we list; and is sometimes pleased to give but a touch at the quickest and maine point of a discourse, from whence they are by diligent studie to be drawne, and so brought into open marke [...]. As that saying of his. That the inhabitants of Asia, served but one alone, because they could not pronounce one onely sillable, which is Non gave perhaps both subject and occa­sion to my friend Beotie to compose his booke of voluntarie servitude. If it were no more but to see Plutarke wrest a slight action to mans life; or a word that seemeth to beare no such sence, it will serve for a whole discourse. It is p [...]en of vnderstanding should so much love brevitie, without doubt their reputation is thereby better, but we the worse▪ Plutarke had rather we should commend him for his judgement, then for his knowledge, he loveth better to leave a kind of longing-desire in vs of him, then a sacietie. He knew verie well, that even in good things, too much may be said: and that Alexandridas did justly reprove him, who spake verie good sentences to the Ephores, but they were overtedious. Oh stranger, quoth he, thou speakest what thou oughtest, otherwise then thou shouldest. Those that have leane and thin bodies stuffe them vp with bumbasting. And such as have but poore matter, will puffe-it vp with loftie words. There is a marvelous cleerenesse, or as I may terme-it an enlightning of mans judgement drawne from the commerce of men, and by fre­quenting abroad in the world: we are all so contrived and compact in ourselves, that our sight is made shorter by the length of our nose. When Socrates was demaunded whence he was, he answered, not of Athens, but of the world; for he, who had his imagination more full, and farther stretching, embraced all the world for his native Citie, and extended his acquaintance, his societie, and affections to all man-kind: and not as we-do, that looke no further then our feet. If the frost chance to n [...]p the vines about my village, my Priest doth presently argue, that the wrath of God hangs over our head, and threatneth all mankind▪ and judgeth that the Pippe is alreadie [...]al [...]e vpon the Canibals.

In viewing these intestine and civill broiles of ours, who doth not exclaime, that this worlds vast-frame is neere vnto a dissolution, and that the day of judgement is readie to fall on vs? never remembring that many worse revolutions have been seene, and that whilest we are plunged in griefe, and overwhelmed in sorrow, a thousand other parts of the world­besides, are blessed with all happinesse, and wallow in pleasures, and never thinke on vs? [Page 75] whereas, when I behold our lives, our licence, and impunitie, I wonder to see them so milde and easie. He on whose head it haileth, thinks all the Hemispheare besides to be in a storme and tempest. And as that dull-pated Savoyard said, that if the seelie king of France could cunningly have managed his fortune, he might verie well have made himselfe chiefe Steward of his Lords houshold, whose imagination conceived no other greatnesse than his Masters; we are all insensible of this kind of errour: an errour of great consequence and prejudice. But whosoever shall present vnto his inward eyes, as it were in a Table, the Idea of the great image of our vniversall-mother Nature, attired in her richest roabes, sitting in the throne of her Majestie, and in her visage shall read, so generall, and so constant a va­rietie; he that therein shall view himselfe, not himselfe alone, but a whole kingdome, to be in respect of a great circle; but the smallest point that can be imagined, he onely can value things according to their essentiall greatnesse and proportion. This great vniverse (which some multiplie as Species vnder one Genus) is the true looking-glasse wherein we must looke, if we will know whether we be of a good stamp, or in the right byase. To conclude, I would have this worlds-frame to be my Schollers choise-booke: So many strange humours, sun­drie sects, varying judgements, diverse opinions, different lawes, and fantasticall customes teach-vs to judge rightly of ours, and instruct our judgement to acknowledge his imperfe­ctions and naturall weaknesse, which is no easie an apprentiship: So many innovations of estates, so many fals of Princes, and changes of publike fortune, may, and ought to teach vs, not to make so great accompt of ou [...]s: So many names, so many victories, and so many conquests buried in darke oblivion, makes the hope to perpetuate our names, but ridiculous, by the surprising of [...]en Argo lettiers, or of a small cottage, which is knowne but by his fall. The pride and fiercenesse of so many strange and gorgeous shewes: the pride-puft majestie of so many courts, and of their greatnesse, ought to confirme and as [...]ure our sight, vndauntedly to beare the affronts and thunder-claps of ours, without seeling our eyes: So many thousands of men, low-laide in their graves afore-vs, may encourage-vs, not to feare, or be [...]is [...]aied to go meet so good companie in the other world; and so of all things else. Our life (said Pithagoras) drawes-neare vnto the great and populous assemblies of the Olympike games, wherein some, to get the glorie, and to win the goale of the games, exer­cise their bodies with all industrie; others, for greedinesse of gaine, bring thither marchan­d se to sell: others there are (and those be not the worst) that seek after no other good, but to marke, how, wherefore, and to what end, all things are done: and to be spectators or ob­servers of other mens lives and actions, that so they may the better judge and direct their owne. Vnto examples may all the most profitable Discourses of Philosophie be sorted, which ought to be the touch-stone of humane actions, and a rule to square them by, to whom may be said,

What it is to know, and not to know (which ought to be the scope of studie) what va­lour, what temperance, and what justice-is: what difference there-is betweene ambition and avarice, bondage and freedome, subjection and libertie, by which markes a man may distinguish true and perfect contentment, and how far-forth one ought to feare or appre­hend death, griefe, or shame.

What wards or springs move-vs, and the causes of so many motions in-vs: For me see­meth▪ [Page 76] that the first discourses, wherewith his conceit should be sprinkled, ought to be those, that rule his manners, and direct his sense; which will both teach him to know himselfe, and how to live, and how to die-well. Among the liberall Sciences, let vs begin with that which makes-vs free: Indeed, they may all in some sort stead-vs, as an instruction to our life, and vse of-it; as all other things-else serve the same to some purpose or other. But let vs make especiall choice of that; which may directly and pertinently serve the same. If we could restraine and adapt the appurtenances of our life to their right byase and naturall limits, we should find the best part of the Sciences that now are in vse, cleane out of fashion with vs: yea, and in those that are most in vse, there are certaine by-waies and deep- [...]lows most profitable, which we should do-well to leave, and according to the institution of Socrates, limit the course of our studies in those where profit is wanting▪

It is more simplicitie to teach our children.

The knowledge of the starres, and the motion of the eightspheare, before their owne.

Anaximenes writing to Pithagoras, saith, with what sence can I ammuse my selfe to the secrets of the Starres, having continually [...]eath or bondage before mine eies? For at that time the Kings of Persia were making preparations to war against his Countrie. All men ought to say so. Be­ing beaten, with ambition, with avarice, with rashnesse, and with superstition, and having such other enemies vnto life within him. Wherefore shall I study and take care about the mobili­ty and variation of the world? When hee is once taught what is fit to make him better and wiser, he shalbe entertained with Logicke, naturall Philosophy, Geometry, and Rhetoricke, then having setled his judgement, looke what [...]cience he doth most addict himselfe vnto, he shall in short time attaine to the perfection of it. His lecture shall be somtimes by way of talke and somtimes by booke: his tutor may now & then supply him with the same Author, as an end & motiue of his institution: sometimes giuing him the pith & substance of it ready chew­ed. And if of himselfe he be not so throughly acquainted with bookes, that hee may readi­ly find so many notable discourses as are in them to effect his purpose, it shall not be amisse, that some learned man being appointed to keepe him company, who at any time of neede, may furnish him with such munition, as hee shall stand in neede of; that hee may afterward distribute and dispense them to his best vse. And that this kinde of lesson be more easie and naturall then that of Gaza, who will make question? Those are but harsh, thornie, and vn­pleasant precepts; vaine▪ idle & immateriall words, on which small hold may be taken; wher­in is nothing to quicken the minde. In this, the spirit findeth substance to bide and feed vp­on. A fruit without all comparison much better, and that will soone bee ripe. It is a thing worthy consideration, to see what state things are brought vnto in this our age; and how Philosophie, even to the wisest, and men of best vnderstanding, is but an idle, vaine and fan­tasticall name, of small vse, and lesse worth, both in opinion and effect. I thinke these Sophi­stries are the cause of it, which have forestalled the waies to come vnto it: They doe very ill, that goe about to make it seeme as it were inaccessible for children to come vnto, set­ting it foorth with a wrimpled, gastlie, and frowning visage; who hath [...]asked her with so counterfet, pale, and hideous a countenance? There is nothing more beauteous, nothing more delightfull, nothing more gamesome; and as I may say, nothing more fondly wanton: [Page 77] for she presenteth nothing to our eyes, and preacheth nothing to our eares, but sport and pastime. A sad and lowring looke plainly declareth, that that is not hir haunt. Demetrius the Gramarian, finding a companie of Philosophers sitting close together in the Temple of Delphos, said vnto them, Either I am deceived, or by your plausible and pleasant lookes, you are not in any serious and carnest discourse amongst your selves; to whom one of them named Hera­cleon the Megarian answered, That belongeth to them, who busie themselves in seeking, whether the future tense of the verbe [...] hath a double [...], or that labour to find the derivation of the com­paratives, [...] and of the superlatives [...] it is they, that must chafe in intertaining themselves with their science: as for discourses of Philosophie they are wont to glad, reioyce, and not to vexe and molest those that vse them.

That mind which harboureth Philosophie, ought by reason of hir sound health, make that bodie also sound and healthie: it ought to make hir contentment to through-shine in all exteriour parts: it ought to shapen and modell all outward demeanours to the modell of it: and by consequence arme him that doth possesse it, with a gracious stoutnesse, and lively audac [...]tie, with an active and pleasing gesture, and with a setled and cheerefull countenance. The most evident token, and apparant signe of true wisedome, is a constant, and vnconstrai­ned rejoicing, whose estate is like vnto all things above the Moone, that is, ever cleare, alwaies bright. It is Baroco and Baralip [...]on, that makes their followers proove so base and idle, and not Philosophie; they know hi [...]not, but by heare-say; what? Is it not shee, that cleereth all stormes of the mind? And teacheth miserie, samine, and sicknesse to laugh? Not by reason of some imaginarie Epicicles, but by naturall and palpable reasons. Shee aymeth at no­thing but vertue: it is vertue shee seekes after; which as the schoole saith, is not pitcht on the top of an high, steepie, or inaccessible hill; for they that have come vnto hir, affirme, that cleane-contrarie, shee keeps hir stand, and holds hir mansion, in a faire, flourishing, and pleasant plaine, whence as from an high watch tower, she survaieth all things, to be subject vnto hir, to whom any man may with great sacilitie come; if he but know the way or entrance to hir pallace: for, the pathes that lead vnto hir, are certaine fresh, and shadie greene allies, sweet and flow [...]e waies, whose ascent is even, easie, and nothing wearisome, like vnto that of heavens-vaults. Forsomuch as they have not frequented this vertue, who gloriously, as in a throne of Majestie sits soveraigne, goodly, triumphant, lovely, equally delicious, and coura­gious, protesting her-selfe to be a professed and irreconciliable enemie to all sharpnesse, au­steritie, feare, and compulsion; having nature for hir guide, fortune and voluptuousnesse for hir companions; they according to their weaknesse have imaginarily fained hir, to have a foolish, sad, grim, quarelous, spitefull, threatning, and disdainfull visage, with an horride and vnpleasant looke; and have placed hir, vpon a craggie, sharpe, and vnfrequented rocke, amidst desert cliffes, and vncouth crags, as a skar-crow, or bug-beare, to affright the com­mon people with. Now the tutour, which ought to know, that he should rather seek to fill the mind, and store the will of his disciple, as much, or rather more, with love and affection, then with awe, and reverence vnto vertue, may shew and tell him, that Poets follow com­mon humours, making him plainly to perceive, and as it were palpably to feele, that the Gods have rather placed labour and sweat at the entrances, which lead to Ʋ [...]nus chambers, then at the doores, that direct to Pallas cabinets.

And when he shall perceive his scholler to have a sensible feeling of himselfe, presenting Bradamant, or Angelica before him, as a Mistresse to enjoy, embelished with a natural, active, generous, and vnspotted beautie, not vglie, or Giant-like, but blithe and livelie, in respect of a wanton, soft, affected, and artificiall-flaring beautie; the one attired like vnto a yong man, coyfed with a bright-shining helmet, the other disguised and drest about the head like vnto an impudent harlot, with embroyderies, frizelings, and carcanets of pearles: he will no doubt deeme his owne love to be a man and no woman, if in his choice he differ from that effe­minate shepheard of Phrigia. In this new kind of lesson, he shall declare vnto him, that the [Page 78] prize, the glorie, and height of true vertue, consisteth in the facilitie, profit, & pleasure of his exercises: so far from difficultie, and incumbrances, that children as well as men, the simple as soone as the wise, may come vnto hir. Discretion and temperance, not force or way-ward­nesse are the instruments to bring him vnto hir. Socrates (vertues chiefe favorite) that he might the better walke in the pleasant, naturall, and open path, of hir progresies, doth volun­tarily and in good earnest, quit all compulsion. Shee is the nurse and softer-mother of all humane pleasures, who in making them just and vpright, she also makes them sure and sin­cere. By moderating them, she keepeth them in vre and breath. In limiting and cutting them off, whom she refuseth; she whets-vs-on toward those she leaveth vnto vs; and plenteouslie leaves-vs them, which Nature pleaseth, and like a kind mother giveth vs over vnto sacietie, if not vnto wearisomnesse, vnlesse we will peradventure say, that the rule and bridle, which stayeth the drunkard before drunkennesse, the glutton before surfetting, and the let [...]her before the loosing of his haire, be the enemies of our pleasures. If common fortune faile-hir, it cleerely scapes hir; or she cares not for hir, or she frames another vnto hir-selfe, altogether hir owne, not so fleeting, nor so rowling. She knoweth the way how to be rich, mightie and wise, and how to lie in sweet-perfumed beds. She loveth life; she delights in beautie, in glorie, and in health. But hir proper and particular office is, first to know how to vse such goods temperately, and how to loose them constantly. An office much more noble, then severe, without which, all course of life is vnnaturall, turbulent, and deformed, to which one may lawfully joyne those rocks, those incumbrances, and those hideous monsters. If so it happen, that his Disciple proove of so different a condition, that he rather love to give▪eare to an idle fable, then to the report of some noble voiage, or other notable and wise discourse, when he shall heare it; that at the found of a Drum, or clang of a Trumpet, which are wont to rowze and arme the youthly heat of his companions, turneth to another that calleth him to see a play, tumbling, jugling tricks, or other idle loose-time sports; and who for pleasures­sake doth not deeme it more delightsome to returne all sweatie and wearie from a victorious combate, from wrestling, or riding of a horse, than from a Tennis-court, or dancing schoole, with the prize or honour of such exercises; The best remedie I know for such a one, is, to put him prentise to some base occupation, in some good towne or other, yea, were he the sonne of a Duke; according to Platoes rule, who saith, That children must be placed, not according to their fathers conditions, but the faculties of their mind. Since it is Philosophie that teacheth vs to live, and that infancie as well as other ages, may plainly read hir lessons in the same, why should it not be imparted vnto yoong Schollers?

We are taught to live, when our life is well-nigh spent. Many schollers have been in­fected with that loathsome and marrow-wasting disease, before ever they came to read Aristotles treatise of Temperance. Cicero was wont to say, That could be out-live the lives of two men, he should never find leasure to studie the Lyrike Poets. And I find these Sophisters both worse and more vnprofitable. Our childe is engaged in greater matters; And but the first fifteene or sixteene yeares of his life, are due vnto Pedantisme, the rest vnto action: let vs therefore imploy so short time, as we have to live in more necessarie instructions. It is an abuse; remove these thornie quiddities of Logike, whereby our life can no whit be amen­ded, and betake our selves to the simple discourses of Philosophie; know how to chuse and fitlie to make vse of them: they are much more easie to be conceived then one of Becace his tales. A childe comming from nurse is more capeable of them, then he is to learne to read or write. Philosophie hath discourses, whereof infancie as well as decaying old-age may make good vse. I am of Plutarkes mind, which is, that Aristotle did not so much ammuse his great Disciple about the arts how to frame Sillogismes, or the principles of Geometrie, as he endevoured to instruct-him with good precepts, concerning valour, prowesse, magna­nimitie, and temperance, and an vndanted assurance not to feare any thing; and with such munition he sent him, being yet verie yoong, to subdue the Empire of the world, onely with 30000. footemen, 4000. horsemen, and 42000. Crownes in monie. As for other artes and sciences▪ he saith Alexander honored them, and commended their excellencie and comli­nesse; [Page 79] but for any pleasure he tooke in them, his affection could not easilie be drawne to exercise them.

It is that which Epicurus said in the beginning of his letter to Meniceus: Neither let the youngest shunne, nor the oldest wearie himselfe in philosophying, for who doth otherwise seemeth to say, that either the season to live happily is not yet come, or is alreadie past. Yet would I not have this yoong gentleman pent-vp, nor carelesly cast-off to the heedlesse choller, or mesan­cholie humour of the hastie Schoole-master. I would not have his budding spirit corrup­ted with keeping-him fast-tied, and as it were labouring foureteene or fifteene houres a day poaring on his booke, as some doe, as if he were a day-labouring man; neither doe I thinke­it fit, if at any time, by reason of some solitarie or melancholie complexion, he should be seene with an over-indiscreet application given to his booke, it should be cherished in him; for, that doth often make-him both vnapt for civill conversation, and distracts him from better imployments: How many have I seene in my daies, by an over-greedie desire of knowledge, become as it were foolish? Carneades was so deeply plunged, and as I may say besotted in it, that he could never have leasure to cut his haire, or pare his nailes: nor would I have his noble maners obscured by the incivilitie and barbarisine of others. The French wisedome hath long since proverbially been spoken-of, as verie apt to conceive studie in hir youth, but most vnapt to keepe it long. In good truth, we see at this day, that there is no­thing lovelier to behold, then the young children of France; but for the most part, they deceive the hope which was fore-apprehended of them: for when they once become men, there-is no excellencie at all in them. I have heard men of vnderstanding hold this opini­on, that the Colledges to which they are sent (of which there are store) doe thus besot-them: whereas to our scholler, a cabinet, a gardin, the table, the bed, a solitarinesse, a companie, morning and evening, and all houres shall be alike vnto him, all places shall be a studie for him: for Philosophie (as a former of judgements, and modeler of customes) shall be his principall lesson, having the priviledge to entermedle hir selfe with all things, and in all pla­ces. Isocrates the Orator, being once requested at a great banket to speake of his arte, when all thought he had reason to answere, said, It is not now time to doe what I can, and what should now be done, I cannot doe it; For, to present orations, or to enter into disputation of Rheto­rike, before a companie assembled together to be merrie, and make good cheere, would be but a medlie of harsn and jarring musicke. The like may be said of all other Sciences. But touching Philosophie, namely in that point where it treateth of man, and of his duties, and offices, it hath been the common judgement of the wisest, that in regard of the pl [...]asantnesse of hir conversation, she ought not to be rejected, neither at banquets, nor at sportes. And Plato having invited hir to his solemne feast, we see how kindly she entertaineth the compa­nie with a milde behaviour, fitly suting hir selfe to time and place, notwithstanding it be one of his learned'st and profitable discourses.

So doubtlesse he shall lesse be idle then others; for even as the paces we bestow walking in a gallerie, although they be twice as many more, wearie-vs not so much as those we spend in going a set journey: So our lesson being past over, as it were, by chance, or way of en­counter, without strict observance of time or place, being applied to all our actions, shall be digested, and never felt. All sports and exercises shall be a part of his studie; running, wrest­ling, musicke, dancing, hunting, and managing of armes, and horses. I would have the ex­terior demeanor or decencie, and the dispolition of his person to be fashioned together with his mind: for, it is not a mind, it is not a bodie that we erect, but it is a man, and we must not make two parts of him. And as Plato saith, They must not be erected one without another, but equally be directed, no otherwise then a couple of horses matched to draw in one selfe-same [...]eem [...]. And to heare-him, doth he not seeme to imploy more time and care in the exercises [Page 80] of his bodie: and to thinke that the mind is together with the same exercised, and not the contrarie? As for other matters, this institution ought to be directed by a sweet-severe mild­nesse; Not as some doe, who in liew of gently-bidding children to the banquet of letters, pre­sent them with nothing but horror and crueltie. Let me have this violence and compulsion removed, there is nothing that, in my seeming, doth more bastardise and dizzie a wel-borne, and gentle nature: If you would have him stand in awe of shame and punishment, doe not so much enure him to-it: accustome him patiently to endure sweat and cold, the sharpnesse of the wind, the heat of the sunne, and how to despise all hazards. Remove from him all nicenesse and quaintnesse in clothing, in lying, in eating, and in drinking: fashion him to all things; that he prove not a faire and wanton-puling boy, but a lustie and vigorous boy: When I was a child, being a man, and now am old, I have ever judged & believed the same. But amongst other things, I could never away with this kind of discipline vsed in most of our Colledges. It had peradventure been lesse-hurtfull, if they had somewhat inclined to mildnesse, or gentle intreatie. It is a verie prison of captivated youth, and proves dissolute, in punishing it before it be so. Come vpon them when they are going to their lesson, and you heare nothing but whipping and brawling, both of children tormented, and masters besotted with anger and chafing. How wide are they, which go about to allure a childs mind to go to his booke, being yet but tender and fearefull, with a stearne-frowning countenance, and with hands-full of rods? Oh wicked and pernicious manner of teaching! which Quintillian hath verie well noted, that this imperious kind of authoritie, namely, this way of punishing of chil­dren, drawes many dangerous inconveniences with-in. How much more decent were it, to see their school-houses and formes strewed with greene boughes and flowers, then with bloodie burchen-twigs? If it lay in me, I would do as the Philosopher Speusippus did, who caused the pictures of Gladnesse and Ioy, of Flora, and of the Graces, to be set-vp round about his school-house. Where their profit lieth, there should also be their recreation. Those meats ought to be sugred-over, that are healthfull for childrens stomakes, and those made bitter that are hurtfull for them. It is strange to see how carefull Plato sheweth himselfe in framing of his lawes about the recreation & pastime of the youth of his Citie, and how far he extends himselfe about their exercises, sports, songs, leaping, and dancing, wherof he faith, that severe antiquitie gave the conduct and patronage vnto the Gods themselves, namely, to Apollo, to the Muses, and to Munerva. Marke but how far-forth he endevoreth to give a thousand pre­cepts to be kept in his places of exercises both of bodie and mind. As for learned Sciences, he stands not much vpon them, and seemeth in particular to commend Poesie, but for Mu­sickes-sake. All strangenesse and selfe particularitie in our manners, and conditions, is to be shunned, as an enemie to societie and civill conversation. Who would not be astonished at Demophons complexion, chiefe steward of Alexanders houshold, who was wont to sweat in the shadow, and quiver for cold in the sunne? I have seene some to startle at the smell of an apple, more then at the shot of a peece; some to be frighted with a mouse, some readie to cast their gorge at the sight of a messe of creame, and others to be scared with seeing a fether­bed shaken: as Germanicus, who could not abide to see a cock, or heare his crowing. There may happily be some hidden propertie of nature, which in my judgement might easilie be removed, if it were taken in time. Institution hath gotten this vpon me (I must confesse with much a doe) for, except beere, all things else that are mans foode agree indifferently with my taste. The bodie being yet souple, ought to be accommodated to all fashions and customes; and (alwaies provided, his appetites & desires be kept vnder) let a yong man boldly be made fit for all Nations and companies-yea, if need be, for all disorders and sorfetings; let him ac­quaint himselfe with all fashions; That he may be able to doe all things, and love to do none but those that are commendable. Some strict Philosophers commend not, but rather blame Calisthenes, for loosing the good favour of his Master Alexander, only because he would not pledge him as much as he had drunke to him. He shall laugh, jest, dallie, and debauch him­selfe with his Prince. And in his debauching, I would have him out-go all his fellowes in vi­gor and constancie, and that he omit not to doe evill, neither for want of strength or know­ledge, but for lacke of will. Multum interest, vtrum peccare quis nolit, aut nesctat. There is a great difference, whether one have no will, or no wit to do amisse. I thought to have honored a gen­tleman (as great a stranger, & as far from such riotous disorders as any is in France) by enqui­ring of him in verie good companie, how many times in all his life he had bin drunke in Ger­manie, [Page 81] during the time of his abode there, about the necessarie affaires of our King; who tooke it even as I ment it, and answered three times, telling the time and manner how. I know some, who for want of that qualitie, have been much perplexed when they have had Ho. epist. 17. 23. occasion to converse with that nation. I have often noted with great admiration, that won­derfull nature of Alcibiades, to see how easilie he could sute himselfe to so divers fashions, and different humors, without prejudice vnto his health; sometimes exceeding the sump­tuousnesse and pompe of the Persians, and now and then surpassing the austeritie and fruga­litie of the Lacedemonians, as reformed in Sparta, as voluptuous in Icnia.

Such a one would I frame my Disciple,

Loe-heer my lessons, wherein he that acteth them, profiteth more, then he that but know­eth them, whom if you see, you heare, and if you heare him, you see him. God forbid, saith some bodie in Plato, that to Philosophize, be to learne many things, and to exercise the artes. Hanc amplissimam omnium artium bcne vivendi disciplinam, vita magis quàm litter is persequuti Ci [...]. Tusc. q [...]. lib. 4. sunt. This discipline of living well, which is the amplest of all other artes, they followed rather in their lives, then in their learning or writing. Leo Prince of the Phliasians, enquiring of Hera­clides Ponticus, what arte he professed, he answered. Sir, I professe neither art nor science; but I am a Philosopher. Some reproved Diogenes, that being an ignorant man, he did never­thelesse meddle with Philosophie, to whom he replied, so much the more reason have I, and to greater purpose doc I meddle with-it. Hegesias praid him vpon a time to reade some booke vnto him; You are a merry man, said he: As you chuse naturall and not painted, right and not counterfeit figges to eate, why doe you not likewise chuse, not the painted and written, but the true and naturall exercises? He shall not so much repeat, as act his lesson. In his actions shall he make repetition of the same. We must observe, whether there be wisedome in his enterprises, integritie in his demeanor, modestie in his jestures, justice in his actions, judgement and grace in his speech, courage in his sicknesse, moderation in his sports, temperance in his pleasures, order in the government of his house, and indifferencie in his taste, whether it be flesh, fish, wine, or water, or whatsoever he feedeth vpon. Qui disciplinam Ci [...]. ib. lib. 2. suam non ost entationem scientiae, sed legem vitae putet: quique obtemperet ipse sibi, & aecretis pa­reat. Who thinks his learning not an ostentation of knowledge, but a law of life, and himselfe obayes himselfe, and doth what is decreed.

The true mirror of our discourses, is the course of our lives. Xeuxidamus answered one that demaunded of him, why the Lacedemonians did not draw into a booke, the ordinan­ces of prowesse, that so their yong men might read them; it is, saith he, because they would rather accustome them to deeds and actions, then to bookes and writings, Compare at the end of fifteene or sixteene yeares one of these collegiall Latinizers, who hath imployed all that while onely in learning how to speake, to such a one as I meane. The world is nothing but babling and words, and I never saw man, that doth not rather speake more than he ought, then lesse. Notwithstanding halfe our age is consumed that way. We are kept foure or five yeares learning to vnderstand bare words, and to joine them into clauses, then as long in proportioning a great bodie extended into foure or five parts; and five more at least, ere we can succinctly know how to mingle, joine, & interlace them handsomly into a subtil fashion, and into one coherent orbe. Let-vs leave-it to those, whose profession is to doe nothing else. Being once on my journey toward Orleans, it was my chance to meet vpon that plaine that lieth on this side Clery, with two Masters of Arts, traveling toward Burdeaux, about fiftie paces one from another far-off behind them, I descride a troupe of horsemen, their Master riding formost, who was the Earle of Rochefocault; one of my servants enquiring [Page 82] of the first of those Masters of artes, what Gentleman he was that followed him; supposing my servant had meant his fellow-scholler, for he had not yet seen the Earles traine, answered pleasantly, He is no gentleman Sir, but a Gramarian, and I am a Logitian. Now, we that con­trariwise seek not to frame a Gramarian, nor a Logitian, but a compleat gentleman, let vs give them leave to mispend their time; we have else-where, and somewhat else of more im­port to doe. So that our Disciple be well and sufficiently stored with matter; words will fol­low apace, and if they will not follow gently, he shall hale them-on perforce. I heare some excuse themselves, that they cannot expresse their meaning, and make a semblance that their heads are so full-stuft with many goodly things, but for want of eloquence they can neither vtter nor make shew of them. It is a meere fopperie. And will you know what? in my see­ming, the cause is, They are shadows and Chimeraes, proceeding of some formelesse con­ceptions, which they cannot distinguish or resolve within, and by consequence are not able to produce them, in asmuch as they vnderstand not themselves: And if you but marke their earnestnesse, and how they stammer & labour at the point of their deliverie, you would deeme, that what they go withall, is but a conceiving, and therefore nothing neere downe­lying; and that they doe but licke that imperfect and shapelesse lump of matter, As for me, I am of opinion and Socrates would have it so, that he who hath a cleare and lively imagi­nation in his mind, may easilie produce and vtter the same, although it be in Bergamask, or Welsh, and if he be dombe, by signes and tokens.

As one said, as poetically in his prose, Cùm res animum occupavere, verba ambiunt. When Sen. contr [...]u. lib. 7. proae. matter hath possest their minds, they hunt after words: and another: Ipsae res verba rapiunt. Things themselves will catch and carry words: He knowes neither Ablative, Conjunctive, Sub­stantive, nor Gramar, no more doth his Lackey, nor any Oyster wife about the streets, and yet if you have a mind to it, he will intertaine you your fill, and peradventure stumble as litle and as seldome against the rules of his tongue, as the best Master of artes in France. He hath no skill in Rhetoricke, nor can he with a preface fore-stall and captivate the Gentle Readers good will: nor careth he greatly to know it. In good sooth, all this garish painting is easilie defaced, by the lustre of an in-bred, and simple truth; for these dainties and quaint devises, serve but to ammuse the vulgare sort, vnapt and incapable to taste the most solide, and firme meat: as Afer verie plainly declareth in Cornelius Tacitus. The Ambassadours of Samos being come to Cleomenes King of Sparta, prepared with a long prolixe Oration, to stir him vp to war against the tyrant Policrates, after he had listned a good while vnto them, his an­swere was: Touching your Exordium or beginning I have forgotten it; the middle I remember not; and for your conclusion I will do nothing in it. A fit, and (to my thinking) a verie good answere; and the Orators were put to such a shift, as they knew not what to replie. And what said an­other? the Athenians from out two of their cunning Architects, were to chuse one to erect a notable great frame: the one of them more affected and selfe-presuming, presented him­selfe before them, with a smooth fore-premeditated discourse, about the subject of that piece of worke, and thereby drew the judgements of the common people vnto his liking; but the other in few words, spake thus: Lords of Athens, what this man hath said, I will performe. In the greatest earnestnesse of Ciceroes eloquence many were drawne into a kind of admira­tion; But Cato jeasting at it, said, Have we not a pleasant Consull? A quicke cunning Argu­ment, and a wittie saying, whether it go before, or come after, it is never out of season. If it have no coherence with that which goeth before, nor with what commeth after; it is good and commendable in itselfe. I am none of those that thinke a good Ryme, to make a good Poeme; let him hardly (if so he please) make a short sillable long, it is no great matter: if the invention be rare and good, and his wit and judgement have cunningly plaied their part. I will say to such a one; he is a good Poet, but an ill Versifier.

Let a man (saith Horace) make his worke loose all seames, measures, and ioynts.

He shall for all that, nothing gain-say himselfe, every piece will make a good shew. To this purpose answered Menander those that chid him, the day being at hand, in which he had promised a Comedy, and had not begun the same, Tut-tut, said he, it is alreadie fi [...]i­shed, there wanteth nothing but to adde the verse vnto-it: for, having ranged and cast the plot in his mind, he made small accompt of feete, of measures, or cadences of verses, which indeed are but of small import in regard of the rest. Since great Ronzarde and learned Bellay, have raised our French Poesie vnto that height of honour, where it now-is: I see not one of these petty-ballad-makers, or prentise-dogrell rymers, that doth not bumbast his labours with high swelling and heaven-disimbowelling words, and that doth not marshall his cadences verie neere as they doe. Plus sonat quàm valet. The sound is more then the weight or worth. And Sen. epist. 40. for the vulgar sort, there were never so many Poets, and so few good: but as it hath been easie for them to represent their rymes, so come they far short in imitating the rich descriptions of the one, and rare inventions of the other. But what shall he doe, if he be vrged with so­phisticall subtilt [...]es about a Sillogisme? A gammon of Bacon makes a man drinke, drinking quencheth a mans thirst, Ergo, a gammon of bacon quencheth a mans thirst. Let him mock at-it, it is more wittie to be mockt at, then to be answered. Let him borrow this pleasant counter-craft of Aristippus; Why shall I vnbind that, which being bound doth so much trouble me? Some one proposed certaine Logicall quiddities against Cleanthes, to whom Chrisip­pus said; vse such jugling tricks to plaie with children, and divert not the serious thoughts of an aged man to such idle matters. If such foolish wiles, Contorta & aculeata sophismata, Ci [...]. Acad. qu. lib. 4. Intricate and fiinged sophismes, must perswade a lie, it is dangerous; but if they proove void of any effect, and moove him but to laughter, I see not why he shall beware of them. Some there are so foolish that will go a quarter of a mile out of the way to hunt after a quaint new word, if they once get in chace; Aut qui non verba rebus aptant, sedres extrinsecus arcessunt, quibus verba conveniant. Or such as fit not words to matter, but fetch matter from abroad, whereto words be fitted. And another, Qui a [...]icuius verbi decore placentis, vocentur ad id quod non proposue­runt Sen. epist. 59. scribere. Who are allured by the grace of some pleasing word, to write that they intended not to write. I doe more willingly winde vp a wittie notable sentence, that so I may sew-it vpon me, then vnwinde my thread to goe fetch it. Contrariwise, it is for words to serve and waite vpon the matter, and not for matter to attend vpon words, and if the French tongue cannot reach vnto-it, let the Gaskonie, or any other. I would have the matters to surmount, and so fill the imagination of him that harkneth, that he have no remembrance at all of the words. It is a naturall, simple, and vnaffected speach that I love, so written as it is spoken, and such vpon the paper, as it is in the mouth, a pithie, sinnowie, full, strong, compendious, and ma­teriall speach, not so delicate and affected, as vehement and piercing.

Rather difficult then tedious, void of affection, free, loose and bold, that every mem­ber of-it seeme to make a bodie; not Pedanticall, nor Frier-like, nor Lawyer-like, but ra­ther downe-right, Souldier-like. As Suetonius calleth that of Iulius Caesar, which I see no reason wherefore he calleth it. I have sometimes pleased my selfe in imitating that licen­ciousnesse or wanton humour of our youths, in wearing of their garments; as carelesly to let their cloaks hang downe over one shoulder; to weare their cloakes scarfe or baw­drikewise, and their stockings loose-hanging about their legs. It represents a kind of dis­dainfull fiercenesse of these forraine embellishings, and neglect carelesnesse of arte: But I commend it more being imployed in the course and forme of speech. All manner of af­fectation, namely in the livelinesse and libertie of France, is vnseemely in a Courtier. And in a Monarchie every Gentleman ought to addresse himselfe vnto a Courtiers carriage. Therefore do we well somewhat to encline to a native and carelesse behaviour. I like not a contexture, where the seames and pieces may be seene: As in a well compact bodie, what [Page 84] need a man distinguish and number all the bones and veines severally? Quae veritati operam Sen. epist. 40. m 75. p. dat oratio, incomposita sit & simplex. Quis accuratè loquitur, nisi qui vult putidè l [...]qui? The speach that intendeth truth must be plaine and vnpollisht: Who speaketh elaborately, but he that meanes to speake vnsavouredly? That eloquence offereth injurie vnto things, which altoge­ther drawes-vs to observe-it. As in apparell, it is a signe of pusillanimitie for one to marke himselfe, in some particular and vnusuall fashion: so likewise in common speach, for one to hunt after new phrases, and vnaccustomed-quaint words, proceedeth of a scholasticall and childish ambition. Let me vse none other then are spoken in the hals of Paris. Aristophanes the Gramarian was somewhat out of the way, when he reproved Epicurus, for the simplici­tie of his words, and the end of his arte oratorie, which was onely perspicuitie in speach. The imitation of speach, by reason of the facilitie of it, followeth presently a whole nation. The imitation of judging and inventing, comes more slow. The greater number of Readers, because they have found one selfe-same kind of gowne, suppose most falsly to holde one like bodie. Outward garments and cloakes may be borrowed, but never the sinews and strength of the bodie. Most of those that converse with me, speake like vnto these Essayes; but I know not whether they thinke alike. The Athenians (as Plato averreth) have for their part great care to be fluent and eloquent in their speach; The Lacedemonians ende­vour to be short and compendious; And those of Creet labour more to be plentifull in con­ceits, then in language. And these are the best. Zeno was wont to say, That he had two sorts of disciples; the one he called [...], curious to learne things, and those were his darlings, the other he termed [...], who respected nothing more then the language. Yet can no man say, but that to speake well, is most gracious and commendable, but not so excellent as some make it: and I am grieved to see how we imploy most part of our time about that onely. I would first know mine owne tongue perfectly, then my neighbours with whom I have most commerce. I must needs acknowledge, that the Greeke and Latine tongues, are great ornaments in a gentleman, but they are purchased at over-high a rate. Vse-it who list, I will tell you how they may be gotten better cheape, and much sooner then is ordinarily vsed, which was tried in my selfe. My late father, having by all the meanes and industrie, that is possible for man, sought amongst the wisest, and men of best vnderstanding, to find a most exquisite and readie way of teaching, being advised of the in­conveniences then in vse; was given to vnderstand, that the lingring while, and best part of our youth, that we imploy in learning the tongues, which cost them nothing, is the only cause we can never attaine to that absolute perfection of skill and knowledge, of the Greekes, and Romanes. I doe not believe that to be the onely cause. But so it-is, the ex­pedient my father found-out, was this; that being yet at nurse, and before the first loosing of my tongue, I was delivered to a Germaine (who died since, a most excellent Phisitian in France) he being then altogether ignorant of the French tongue, but exquisitely readie and skilfull in the Latine. This man, whom my Father had sent-for of purpose, and to whom he gave verie great intertainment, had me continually in his armes, and was mine onely overseer. There were also iojned vnto him two of his countrimen, but not so lear­ned; whose charge was to attend, and now and then, to play with me; and all these together did never intertaine me with other then the Latine tongue. As for others of his houshold, it was an inviolable rule, that neither himselfe, nor my mother, nor man, nor maide-ser­vant, were suffered to speake one word in my companie, except such Latine words, as every one had learned to chat and prattle with me, It were strange to tell how euery one in the house profited therein. My Father and my Mother learned so much Latine, that for a neede they could vnderstand-it, when they heard-it spoken, even so did all the hous­hold servants, namely such as were neerest and most about-me. To be short, we were all so Latinized, that the townes round about vs had their share of-it; insomuch as even at this day, many Latine names both of workmen and of their tooles, are yet in vse among them. And as for my selfe, I was about six yeares old, and could vnderstand no more French or Perigordine, then Arabike, and that without arte, without bookes, rules, or gramer, without whipping or whining. I had gotten as pure a Latine tongue as my Master could speake; the rather because I could neither mingle or confound the same with other tongues. If for an Essay they would give me a Theame, whereas the fashion in Colledges is, to give it in French, I had it in bad Latine, to reduce the same into good. And Nicholas Grucchi, [Page 85] who hath written, De comitijs Romanorum, Williám G [...]erenti, who hath commented Ari­stotle: George Buchanan, that famous Scottish Poet, and Marke-Antonie Muret, whom (while he lived) both France and Italie to this day, acknowledge to haue been the best Ora­tor: all which have beene my familiar tutors, have often tolde me, that in mine infan­cie I had the Latine tongue so readie and so perfect, that themselves feared to take me in hand. And Buchanan, who afterward I saw attending on the Marshall of Brissacke, told me, he was about to write a treatise of the institution of children, and that he tooke the model and patterne from mine: for, at that time he had the charge and bringing vp of the yong Earle of Brissack, whom since we have seene proove so woorthy and so valiant a captaine. As for the Greeke, wherein I have but small vnderstanding, my father purposed to make me learne-it by arte; But by new and vncustomed meanes, that is, by way of recreation and exercise. We did tosse our declinations, and conjugations to and fro, as they do, who by way of a certaine game at tables learne both Arithmetike and Geometrie. For, amongst o­ther things he had especially beene perswaded to make me taste and apprehend the fruits of dutie and science by an vnforced kinde of will, and of mine owne choice; and without any compulsion or rigor to bring me vp in all mildenesse and libertie: yea with such kinde of superstition, that, whereas some are of opinion, that suddenly to awaken yoong children, and as it were by violence to startle and fright them out of their dead sleepe in a morning (wherein they are more heavie and deeper plunged then we) doth greatly trouble and distemper their braines, he would every morning cause me to be awakened by the sound of some instrument; and I was never without a servant; Who to that purpose attended vpon me. This example may serve to judge of the rest; as also to commend the judgement and tender affection of so carefull and loving a father: who is not to be blamed, though hee reaped not the fruites answerable to his exquisite toyle, and painefull manuring. Two things hindered the same; first the barrennesse and vnfit soyle: for howbeit I were of a [...]ound and strong constitution, and of a tractable and yeelding condition, yet was I so hea­vie, so sluggish, and so dull, that I could not be rouzed (yea were-it to goe to play) from-out mine idle drowzinesse. What I saw, I saw it perfectly; and vnder this heavy, and as it were Lethe-complexion did I breed hardie imaginations, and opinions farre-above my yeares. My spirit was very slow, and would goe no further then it was led by others; my apprehensi­on blockish, my invention poore; and besides, I had a marvelous defect in my weake me­morie: it is therefore no woonder, if my father could never bring me to any perfection. Secondly, as those that in some dangerous sicknesse, moved with a kind of hope-full & gree­die desire of perfect health againe, give eare to every Leache or Emperike, and follow all counsels, the good-man being exceedingly fearefull to commit any oversight, in a matter he tooke so to heart, suffered himselfe at last to be led away by the common opinion, which like vnto the Cranes, followeth ever those that go before, and yeelded to custome: Having those no longer about him, that had given him his first directions, and which they had brought out of Italie. Being but six yeeres old I was sent to the Colledge of Guienne, then most flourishing and reputed the best in France, where it is impossible to adde any thing to the great care he had, both to chuse the best and most sufficient Masters, that could be found, to reade vnto me, as also for all other circumstances pertaining to my education; wherein contrary to vsuall customes of Colledges, he observed many particular rules. But so it is, it was ever a Colledge. My Latin tongue was forthwith corrupted, whereof by reason of discontinuance, I afterward lost all manner of vse: which new kind of institution, stood me in no other stead, but that at my first admittance, it made me to ouer-skip some of the lower formes, and to be placed in the highest. For at thirteene yeares of age, that I left the Colledge, I had read over the whole course of Philosophie (as they call it) but with so small profit, that I can now make no account of it. The first taste or feeling I had of bookes, was of the pleasure I tooke in reading the fables of Ovids Metamorphosies; for, being but seaven or eight yeares old, I would steale and sequester my selfe from all other delights, onely to reade them: Forsomuch as the tongue wherein they were written was to me natu­rall; and it was the easiest booke I knew, and by reason of the matter therein contained, most agreeing with my yoong age. For of King Arthur, of Lancelot du Lake, of Amadis, of Huon of Burdeaux, and such idle time-consuming, and wit-besotting trash of bookes wherein youth doth commonly ammuse it selfe, I was not so much as acquainted with their [Page 86] names, and to this day know not their bodies, nor what they containe: So exact was my discipline. Wherby I became more carelesse to studie my other prescript lessons. And well did it fall out for my purpose, that I had to deale with a very discreet Master, who out of his judgement could with such dexteritie winke▪ at, and second my vntowardlinesse, and such other faults that were in me. For by that meanes, I read-over Virgils Aeneades, Te­rence, Plautus, and other Italian Comedies, allured thereunto by the pleasantnesse of their severall subjects: Had he beene so foolishly-severe, or so sverely froward as to crosse this course of mine, I think verily I had never brought any thing from the Colledge, but the hate and contempt of Bookes, as doth the greatest part of our Nobilitie. Such was his discreti­on, and so warily did he behave himselfe, that he saw and would not see: hee would foster and encrease my longing: suffering me but by stealth, and by snatches to glut my selfe with those Bookes; holding ever a gentle hand over me, concerning other regular studies. For, the chiefest thing my father required at their hands (vnto whose charge he had committed me) was a kinde of well-conditioned mildenesse, and facilitie of complexion. And, to say truth, mine had no other fault, but a certaine dull-languishing, and heavie slothfulnesse. The danger was not, I should do-ill, but that I should doe nothing.

No man did ever suspect, I would prove a bad, but an vnprofitable man: foreseeing in me rather a kind of idlenesse, than a voluntary craftinesse. I am not so selfe-conceited but I per­ceive what hath followed. The complaints that are daily buzzed in mine eares are these; that I am idle, colde, and negligent in offices of friendship, and dutie to my parents, and kinsfolkes; and touching publike offices, that I am over-singular and disdainefull. And those that are most iniurious cannot aske, wherefore I have taken, and why I have not paied? but may rather demand, why I doe not quit, and wherefore I doe not give? I would take it as a favour, they should wish such effects of supererogation in me. But they are vnjust and over-partiall, that will goe about to exact that from me, which I owe not, with more rigor than they will exact from themselves that which they owe; wherein if they condemne me, they vtterly cancell, both the gratifying of the action, and the gratitude, which thereby would be due to me. Whereas the active well-doing should be of more consequence, pro­ceeding from my hand, in regard I have no passive at all. Wherefore I may so much the more freely dispose of my fortune, by how much more it is mine, and of my selfe that am most mine owne. Notwithstanding, if I were a great blazoner of mine owne actions, I might peradventure barre such reproches, and justly vpbraid some, that they are not so much offended, because I doe not enough, as for that I may, and it lies in my power to doe much more then I doe. Yet my minde ceased not at the same time to have peculiar vnto it selfe well-setled motions, true and open judgements, concerning the objects, which it knew; which alone, and without any helpe or communication it would digest. And amongst other things I verily beleeue, it would have proved altogether incapable, and vnfit to yeeld vnto force, or stoope vnto violence. Shall I account or relate this qualitie of my infancie, which was, a kinde of boldenesse in my lookes, and gentle softnesse in my voice, and affabilitie in my gestures, and a dexteritie in conforming my selfe to the parts I vndertooke? for before the age of the

I have vnde-rgone and represented the chiefest parts in the Latin Tragedies of Buchanan, Guerenti, and of Muret; which in great state were acted and plaid in our colledge of Guienne: wherein Andreas Goveanus our Rector principall; who as in all other parts belonging to his charge, was without comparison the chiefest Rector of France, and my selfe (without ostentation be it spoken) was reputed, if not a chiefe master, yet a principall Actor in them. It is an excercise I rather commend than disalow in yong gentlemen: and have seene some of our Princes (in imitation of some of former ages) both commendably and honestly, in their proper persons acte and play some parts in Tragedies. It hath heeretofore been esteemed a lawfull exercise, and a tollerable profession in men of honor, namely in Greece. Aristoni tra­gico actori rem aperit: huic & genus & fortuna honesta erant: nec ars quia nihil tale apud Graecos Lib dec. 3. l. 4. pudori est, ea deformaebat. He imparts the matter to Ariston a Player of tragedies, whose progenie [Page 87] and fortune were both honest; nor did his profession disgrace them, because no such matter is a dis­paragement amongst the Graecians.

And I have ever accused them of impertinencie, that condemne and disalow such kindes of recreations, and blamed those of injustice, that refuse good and honest Comedians, (or as we call them) Players, to enter our good townes, and grudge the common people such publike sports. Politike and wel-ordered commonwealths, endevor rather carefully to vnite and assemble their Citizens together; as in serious offices of devotion, so in honest exer­cises of recreation. Common societie and loving friendship is thereby cherished and increa­sed. And besides, they cannot have more formall and regular pastimes allowed them, then such as are acted and represented in open view of all, and in the presence of the magistrates themselves: And if I might beare sway, I would thinke it reasonable, that Princes should sometimes, at their proper charges, gratifie the common people with them, as an argument of a fatherly affection, and loving goodnesse towards them: and that in populous and fre­quented cities, there should be Theatres & places appointed for such spectacles; as a diver­ting of worse inconveniences, and secret actions. But to come to my intended purpose, there is no better way then to allure the affection, and to entice the appetite: otherwise a man shall breede but asses laden with Bookes. With jerkes of roddes they have their satchels full of learning given them to keepe. Which to do well, one must not onely harbor in him-selfe, but wed and mary the same with his minde.

The six and twentieth Chapter.

IT is not peradventure without reason, that we ascribe the facilitie of beleeving and easines of perswasion, vnto simpl [...] c [...]tie and ignorance: For me semeth to have learn theretofore, that beliefe was, as it were an impression conceiued in our minde, and according as the same was found either more soft, or of leue resistance, it was easier to imprint any thing therein. Ʋenecesse est lancem in libra po [...]deribus impositis deprimi: sic animum perspicuis cedere. As it is Cic. Acad. qu. l. 4 necessarie a scale must goe downe the balla [...]c when weights are put into it, so must a minde yeelde to things that are manifest. Forasmuch therefore, as the minde being most emptie and with­out counterpoize, so much the more easily doth it yeeld vnder the burthen of the first per­swasion. And that's the reason why children, those of the common sort, women, and sicke­folks, are so subject to be n [...]is-led, and so easie to swallow gudgeons. Yet on the other side it is a sottish presumption to disdaine and condemn that for false, which vnto vs seemeth to beare no shew of likelihood or truth: which is an ordinarie fault in those who perswade them­selves to be of more sufficienc [...]e than the vulgar sort. So was I sometimes wont to doe, and if I heard any body speake, either of ghosts walking, of foretelling future things, of enchant­ments, of witchcrafts, or any other thing reported, which I could not well conceive, or that was beyond my reach,

I could not but feele a kinde of compassion to see the poore and seely people abused with such follies. And now I perceive, that I was as much to be moaned my-selfe: Not that expe­rience hath since made me to discerne any thing beyond my former opinions: yet was not my curiositie the cause of it, but reason hath taught me, that so resolutely to condemne a thing for false, and impossible, is to assume vnto himselfe the advantage, to have the bounds and limits of Gods will, and of the power of our common mother Nature tied to his sleeue: And that there is no greater folly in the world, then to reduce them to the measure of our capacitie▪ and bounds of our sufficiencie▪ If we terme those things monsters or miracles to [Page 88] which our reason cannot attaine, how many such doe daily present themselves vnto our sight? Let vs consider through what clowdes, and how blinde-folde we are led to the knowledge of most things, that passe our hands: verily we shall finde, it is rather custome, than science that remooveth the strangenesse of them from-vs:

And that those things, were they newly presented vnto vs, wee should doubtlesse deeme them, as much, or more vnlikely, and incredible, then any other.

He who had never seene a river before, the first he saw, he thought it to be the Ocean: and things that are the greatest in our knowledge, we judge them to be the extreamest that nature worketh in that kinde.

Consuetudine oculorum assuescunt animi, neque admirantur, neque requirunt rationes carum Cic. Nat. D [...]. l. 2 rerum, quas semper vident. Mindes are acquainted by cust [...]me of their eies, nor doe they admire, or enquire the reason of those things, which they continually behold. The noveltie of things doth more incite vs to search-out the causes, than their greatnesse: we must judge of this infinit power of nature, with more reverence, and with more acknowledgement of our owne igno­rance and weakenesse. How many things of small likelihood are there, witnessed by men, woorthie of credit, whereof if we cannot be perswaded, we should at least leave them insu­spence? For, to deeme them impossible, is by rash presumption to presume and know how farre possibilitie reacheth. If a man did well vnderstand, what difference there is betweene impossibilitie, and that which is vnwonted, and betweene that which is against the course of nature, and the common opinion of men, in not beleeving rashly, and in not disbeleeving easily; the rule of Nothing too-much, commanded by Chilon, should be observed. When we finde in Froysard, that the Earle of Foix, (being in Bearn▪) had knowledge of the defeature at Iuberoth, of king Iohn of Castile, the morrow next it hapned, and the meanes he alleageth for it, a man may well laugh at it: And of that which our Annales report, that Pope Honorius, the very same day, that King Philip Augustus died at Mantes, caused his publike funerals to be solemnized, and commanded them to be celebrated throughout all Italie. For, the authoritie of the witnesses hath peradventure no sufficient warrant to restraine vs. But what? if Plutarke, besides divers examples which he alleageth of antiquitie, saith to have certainely knowne, that in Domitians time, the newes of the battle lost by Antonius in Germanis many daies iourneies thence, was published at Rome, and divulged through the world, the very same day it succeeded: And if Caesar holdes, that it hath many times happened, that report hath foregone the accident: Shall we not say, that those simple people have suffered themselves to be cousoned and seduced by the vulgar sort, because they were not as cleare-sighted as we? Is there any thing more daintie, more vnspotted, and more lively then Plinies judge­ment, whensoever it pleaseth him to make shewe of it? Is there any farther from va­nitie? I omit the excellencie of his learning and knowledge, whereof I make but small rec­koning: [Page 89] in which of those two parts doe we exceed him? Yet there is no scholer so meane­ly learned, but will convince him of lying, & read a lecture of contradiction against him vp­on the progresse of natures workes. When wee reade in Bouchet the myracles wrought by the reliques of Saint Hillarie, his credit is not sufficient to barre vs the libertie of contra­dicting him: yet at randon to condemne all such like histories, seemeth to me a notable im­pudencie. That famous man Saint Augustine, witnesseth to have seene a blinde childe, to re­cover his sight, over the reliques of Saint Gervase and Protaise at Milene: and a woman at Carthage, to have beene cured of a canker, by the signe of the holy Crosse, which a woman newly baptized made vnto her: and Hesperius a familiar friend of his, to have expelled cer­taine spirits, that molested his house, with a little of the earth of our Saviors sepulcher; which earth being afterwards transported into a church, a Paralitike man was immediately therwith cured: and a woman going in procession, having as she past-by with a nose-gaie toucht the case wherein Saint Stevens bones were, and with the same afterward rubbed her eies, she re­covered her sight, which long before she had vtterly lost: & divers other examples, where he affirmeth to have bin an assistant himselfe. What shall we accuse him of, and two other holy Bishops, Aurelius and Maximinus, whom he calleth for his witnesses? Shal it be of ignorance, of simplicity, of malice, of facility, or of imposture? Is any man living so impudent, that thinks he may be compared to them, whether it be in vertue or piety, in knowledge or judgement, in wisdome or sufficiency? Qui vi rationem nullam afferrent, ipsa autoritate me frangerent: Who Cic▪ Di [...]. li. 1. though they alleadged no reason, yet might subdue me with their very authoritie. It is a dangerous fond hardinesse, and of consequence, besides the absurd temerity it drawes with it, to despise what we conceive not. For, after that according to your best vnderstanding, you have esta­blished the limits of truth, and bounds of falsehood, and that it is found, you must necessa­rily beleeve things, wherein is more strangenesse, then in those you deny; you have alreadie bound your selfe to abandon them. Now that which me thinkes brings as much disorder in our consciences, namely in these troubles of religion wherin we are, is the dispensation Ca­tholikes make of their beliefe. They suppose to shew themselves very moderate and skilfull, when they yeeld their adversaries any of those articles now in question. But besides that, they perceive not what an advantage it is for him that chargeth you, if you but once begin to yeeld & give them ground; and how much that encorageth him to pursue his point: those articles which they chuse for the lightest, are oftentimes most important. Either a man must wholy submit himselfe to the authoritie of our Ecclesiasticall pollicie, or altogether dispence himselfe from it: It is not for vs to determine what part of obedience we owe vnto it. And moreover, I may say it, because I have made triall of it, having sometimes vsed this libertie of my choice, and particular election, not regarding certaine points of the obseruance of our Church, which seeme to beare a face, either more vaine, or more strange; comming to com­municate them with wisemen, I have found that those things have a most solide and steadie foundation, and that it is but foolishnesse and ignorance, makes vs receiue them with lesse re­spect and reverence then the rest. Why remember we not, what, and how many contradi­ctions we finde and feele even in our owne judgement? How many things served vs but yesterday as articles of faith, which to day we deeme but fables? Glory and curiositie are the scourges of our soules. The latter induceth vs to have an oare in every ship, and the former forbids vs to leave any thing vnresolved or vndecided.

The seauen and twentieth Chapter.

COnsidering the proceeding of a Painters worke I have; a desire hath possessed mee to imitate him: He maketh choise of the most convenient place and middle of everie wall, there to place a picture, laboured with all his skill and sufficiencie; and all void places a­bout it he filleth vp with antike Boscage or Crotesko works; which are fantastical pictures, having no grace, but in the variety and strangenesse of them. And what are these my compo­sitions [Page 90] in truth, other than antike workes, and monstrous bodies, patched and hudled vp together of divers members, without any certaine or well ordered figure, having neither or­der, dependencie, or proportion, but casuall and framed by chance?

Touching this second point I goe as farre as my Painter, but for the other and better part I am farre behinde: for my sufficiency reacheth not so farre, as that I dare vndertake, a rich, a pollished, and according to true skill, and arte-like table. I have advised my selfe to borrow one of Steven de la Boitie, who with this kinde of worke shall honour all the world. It is a discourse he entitled, Voluntary Servitude, but those who have not knowen him, have since very properly rebaptized the same. The against one. In his first youth he writ, by way of Es­saie, in honour of libertie against Tyrants. It hath long since beene dispersed amongst men of vnderstanding, not without great and well deserved commendations: for it is full of wit, and containeth as much learning as may be: yet doth it differ much from the best he can do. And if in the age I knew-him in, he would have vndergone my dessigne, to set his fantasies downe in writing, we should doubtlesse see many rare things, and which would very neerely approch the honour of antiquity: for especially touching that part of natures gifts, I know none may be compared to him. But it was not long of him, that ever this Treatize, came to mans view, and I believe he never sawe it since it first escaped his hands: with certaine o­ther notes concerning the edict of Ianuarie, famous by reason of our intestine warre, which haply may in other places finde their deserved praise. It is all I could ever recover of his re­liques (whom when death seized, he by his last will and testament, left with so kinde re­membrance, heire and executor of his librarie and writings) besides the little booke, I since caused to be published: To which his pamphlet I am particularly most bounden, for so much as it was the instrumentall meane of our first acquaintance. For it was showed me long time before I sawe him; and gave me the first knowledge of his name, addressing, and thus nou­rishing that vnspotted friendship, which we (so long as it pleased God) have so sincerely, so entire and inviolably maintained betweene vs, that truely a man shall not commonly heare of the like; and amongst our moderne men no signe of any such is seene. So many partes are required to the erecting of such a one, that it may be counted a wonder, if fortunce once in three ages contract the like. There is nothing to which Nature hath more addressed vs than to societie. And Aristotle saith, that perfect Law-givers have had more regardfull care of friend­ship then of iustice. And the vtmost drift of it's perfection is this. For generally, all those amities which are forged and nourished by voluptuousnesse or profit, publike or private neede, are thereby so much the lesse faire and generous, and so much the lesse true amities, in that they intermeddle other causes, scope, and fruit with friendship, then it selfe alone: Nor doe those foure auncient kindes of friendships; Naturall, sociall, hospitable, and ve­nerian, either particularly or conjointly beseeme the same. That from children to parents may rather be termed respect: Friendship is nourished by communication, which by rea­son of the over-great disparitie cannot bee found in them, and would happly offend the duties of nature: for neither all the secret thoughts of parents can be communicated vnto children, lest it might engender an vnbeseeming familiaritie betweene them, nor the admo­nitions and corrections (which are the chiefest offices of friendship) could be exercised from children to parents. There have nations beene found, where, by custome, children killed their parents, and others, where parents slew their children, thereby to avoide the hindrance of enter-bearing one another in after times: for naturally one dependeth from the ruine of an­other. There have Philosophers beene found disdaining this naturall conjunction, witnesse Aristippus, who being vrged with the affection he ought his children, as proceeding from his loynes, began to spit, saying, That also that excrement proceeded from him, and that also we engendred wormes and lice. And that other man, whom Plutarke would have per­swaded to agree with his brother, answered, I care not a straw the more for him, though he came out of the same wombe I did. Verily the name of Brother is a glorious name, and ful of loving kindnesse, and therefore did he and I terme one another sworne brother: but this commix­ture, dividence, and sharing of goods, this joyning wealth to wealth, and that the riches of one shall be the povertie of another, doth exceedingly distemper and distract all brotherly [Page 91] aliance, and lovely conjunction: If brothers should conduct the progresse of their ad­vancement and thrift in one same path and course, they must necessarily oftentimes hinder and crosse one another. Moreover, the correspondencie and relation that begetteth these true and mutually-perfect amities, why shall it be found in these? The father and the sonne may very well be of a farre differing complexion, and so many brothers: He is my sonne, he is my kinsman; but he may be a foole, a bad, or a peevish-minded man. And then accor­ding as they are friendships, which the law and dutie of nature doth command-vs, so much the lesse of our owne voluntarie choice and libertie is there required vnto it: And our ge­nuine libertie hath no production more properly her owne, then that of affection and ami­tie. Sure I am, that concerning the same I have assaied all that might be, having had the best and most indulgent father that ever was, even to his extreamest age, and who from father to sonne was descended of a famous house, and touching this rare-seene vertue of brotherly concord very exemplare:

To compare the affection toward women vnto it, although it iproceed from our owne free choise, a man cannot, nor may it be placed in this ranke: Her fire, I confesse it

to be more active, more fervent, and more sharpe. But it is a rash and wavering fire, wa­ving and diverse: the fire of an ague subject to fits and stints, and that hath but slender hold-fast of vs. In true friendship, it is a generall & vniversall heat, and equally tempered, a constant and setled heat, all pleasure and smoothnes, that hath no pricking or stinging in it, which the more it is in lustfull love, the more is it but a ranging and mad desire in following that which flies vs,

As soone as it creepeth into the termes of friendship, that is to say, in the agreement of wils, it languisheth and vanisheth away: enioying doth loose it, as having a corporall end, and subject to sacietie. On the other side, friendship is enjoyed according as it is desired, it is neither bred, nor nourished, nor encreaseth but in jovissance, as being spirituall, and the minde being refined by vse and custome. Vnder this chiefe amitie, these fading affections have sometimes found place in me, lest I should speake of him, who in his verses speakes but too much of it. So are these two passions entred into me in knowledge one of another, but in comparison never: the first flying a high, and keeping a proud pitch, disdainfully behol­ding the other to passe her points farre vnder it. Concerning marriage, besides that it is a co­venant which hath nothing free but the entrance, the continuance being forced and con­strained, depending else-where then from our will, & a match ordinarily concluded to other ends: A thousand strange knots are there in commonly to be vnknit, able to break the web, & trouble the whole course of a lively affection; whereas in friendship, there is no commerce or busines depending on the same, but it selfe. Seeing (to speake truly) that the ordinary suffi­ciency of women, cannot answer this conference & communication, the nurse of this sacred bond: nor seeme their mindes strong enough to endure the pulling of a knot so hard, so fast, and durable. And truely, if without that, such a genuine and voluntarie acquaintance might be contracted, where not onely mindes had this entire jovissance, but also bodies, a share of the aliance, and where a man might wholy be engaged: It is certaine, that friendship would [Page 92] thereby be more compleate and full: But this sex could never yet by any example attaine vnto it, and is by ancient schooles rejected thence. And this other Greeke licence is justly abhorred by our customes, which notwithstanding, because according to vse it had so neces­sarie a disparitie of ages, and difference of offices betweene lovers, did no more sufficiently answer the perfect vnion and agreement, which heere we require: Quis est enim iste amor Cic. Tusc. que. 4. amicitiae? curneque deformem adolescentem quisquam amat, neque for mosum senem? For, what love is this of friendship? why doth no man loue either a deformed yong man, or abeantifull old man? For even the picture the Academic makes of it, will not (as I suppose) disavowe mee, to say thus in her behalfe: That the first furie, enspired by the son of Venus in the lovers hart, vpon the object of tender youths-flower, to which they allow all insolent and passionate violen­ces, an immoderate heate may produce, was simply grounded vpon an externall beauty; a false image of corpor all generation: for in the spirit it had no power, the sight whereof was yet concealed, which was but in his infancie, and before the age of budding. For, if this furie did seize vpon a base minded courage, the meanes of it's pursute, where riches, gifts, fa­vour to the advancement of dignities, and such like vile marchandize, which they reproove. If it fell into a most generous minde, the interpositions were likewise generous: Philosophi­call instructions, documents to reverence religion, to obey the lawes, to die for the good of his countrie: examples of valor, wisedome and justice. The lover endevoring and studying to make himselfe acceptable by the good grace and beauty of his minde (that of his body be­ing long since decayed) hoping by this mentall societie to establish a more firme and perma­nent bargaine. When this pursute attained the effect in dueseason, (for by not requiring in a lover, he should bring leasure and discretion in his enterprise, they require it exactly in the beloved; for as much as he was to judge of an internall beauty, of a difficile knowledge, & abstruse discovery) then by the interposition of a spirituall beauty was the desire of a spiritual conception engendred in the beloved. The latter was heere chiefest; the corporall, acciden­tall and second, altogether contrarie to the lover. And therefore do they preferre the belo­ved, and verifie that the gods likewise preferre the same: and greatly blame the Poet Aes­chylus, who in the love between Achilles and Patroclus ascribeth the lovers part vnto Achilles, who was in the first and beardlesse youth of his adolescency, and the fairest of the Graecians. After this generall communitie, the mistris and worthiest part of it, predominant & exerci­sing her offices (they say the most availeful commodity did therby redound both to the pri­vate & publike) That it was the force of countries received the vse of it, and the principall defence of equitie and libertie: witnesse the comfortable loves of Hermodiu and Aristogiton. Therefore name they it sacred and divine, and it concerns not them whether the violence of tyrants, or the demisnesse of the people be against them: To conclude, all can be alleaged in favour of the Academy, is to say, that it was a love ending in friendship, a thing which hath no bad reference vnto the Stoical definition of love: Amorem conatum esse amicitiae facienda ex Cic. ibid. pulehritudinis specie. That love is an endevor of making frendship by the shew of beautie. I returne to my description in a more equitable & equall maner. Omnino amicitiae corroboratis iam con­firmatis [...] Cic. Ami [...]. ingenijs & aetatibus indicandae sunt. Clearely friendships are to be indge by wits, and ages already strengthened and confirmed. As for the rest, those we ordinarily call friendes and ami­ties, are but acquaintances and familiarities, tied together by some occasion or commodi­ties, by meanes whereof our mindes are entertained. In the amitie I speake of, they enter­mixe and confound themselves one in the other, with so vniuersall a commixture, that they weare out, and can no more finde the seame that hath conjoyned them together. If a man vrge me to tell wherefore I loved him, I feele it cannot be expressed, but by answering; Be­cause it was he, because it was my selfe. There is beyond all my discourse, and besides what I can particularly report of it, I know not what inexplicable and fatall power, a meane and Mediatrix of this indissoluble vnion. Wee sought one another, before we had seene one another, and by the reports we heard one of another; which wrought a greater vio­lence in vs, than the reason of reports may well beare: I thinke by some secret ordinance of the heavens, we embraced one another by our names. And at our first meeting, which was by chance at a great feast, and solemne meeting of a whole towneship, we found our­selves so surprized, so knowne, so acquainted, and so combinedly bound together, that from thence forward, nothing was so neere vnto vs, as one vnto another. He writ an excellent Latine Satyre; since published; by which he excuseth and expoundeth the precipitation [Page 93] of our acquaintance, so suddenly come to her perfection; Sithence it must continue so short a time, and begun so late (for we were both growne men, and he some yeeres older than myselfe) there was no time to be lost. And it was not to bee modelled or directed by the paterne of regular and remisse friendship, wherein so many precautions of a long and preallable conversation are required. This hath no other Idea than of it selfe, and can have no reference but to it selfe. It is not one especiall consideration, nor two, nor three, nor foure, nor a thousand: It is I wot not what kinde of quintessence, of all this commixture, which having seized all my will, induced the same to plunge and loose it selfe in his, which likewise having seized all his will, brought it to loose and plunge it selfe in mine, with a mutuall greedinesse, and with a semblable concurrance. I may truely say, loose, reserving nothing vnto vs, that might properly be called our owne, nor that was either his, or mine. When Lelius in the presence of the Romane Consuls, who after the condemnation of Ti­berius Gracchus, pursued all those that had beene of his acquaintance, came to enquire of Caius Blosius (who was one of his chiefest friends) what he would have done for him, and that he answered: All things, What? All things? replied he: And what if he had willed thee to burne our Temples? Blosius answered, He would never have commanded such a thing. But what if he had done it? replied Lelius: The other answered, I would have obeyed him: If hee were so perfect a friend to Gracchus, as Histories report, he needed not offend the Consuls with this last and bolde confession, and should not have departed from the assurance hee had of Gracchus his minde. But yet those, who accuse this answer as seditious, vnderstand not well this mysterie: and doe not presuppose in what termes he stood, and that he held Gracchus his will in his sleeve, both by power and knowledge. They were rather friends than Citti­zens, rather friends than enemies of their countrey, or friends of ambition and trouble. Having absolutely committed themselves one to another, they perfecty held the reines of one anothers inclination: and let this yoke be guided by vertue and conduct of reason (be­cause without them it is altogether impossible to combine and proportion the same.) The answer of Blosius was such as it should be. If their affections miscarried, according to my mea­ning, they were neither friendes one to other, nor friends to themselves. As for the rest, this answer soundes no more than mine would doe, to him that would in such sort enquire of me; if your will should commaund you to kill your daughter, would you doe it? and that I should consent vnto it: for, that beareth no witnesse of consent to do it: because I am not in doubt of my will, and as little of such a friends will. It is not in the power of the worlds dis­course to remove me from the certaintie I have of his intentions and judgements of mine: no one of it's actions might be presented vnto me, vnder what shape soever, but I would presently finde the spring and motion of it. Our mindes have jumped so vnitedly together, they have with so fervent an aflection considered of each other, and with like affection so discovered and sounded, even to the very bottome of ech others heart and entrails, that I did not onely know his, as well as mine owne, but I would (verily) rather have trusted him concerning any matter of mine, than my selfe. Let no man compare any of the other com­mon friendships to this. I have as much knowledge of them as another, yea of the perfectest of their kinde: yet will I not perswade any man to confound their rules, for so a man might be deceived. In these other strict friendships a man must march with the bridle of wisdome and precaution in his hand: the bond is not so strictly tied, but a man may in some sort distrust the same. Love him (saide Chilon) as if you should one day hate him againe. Hate him as if you should love him againe. This precept, so abhominable in this soveraigne and mistris Amitie, is necessarie and wholesome in the vse of vulgar and customarie frendships: toward which a man must employ the saying Aristotle was woont so often to repeat, Oh you my friends, there is no perfect friend.

In this noble commerce, offices and benefits (nurses of other amities) deserve not so much as to bee accounted of: this confusion so full of our willes is cause of it: for euen as the friendship I beare vnto my selfe, admits no accrease, by any succour I give my selfe in any time of neede, whatsoever the Stoickes alleadge; and as I acknowledge no thanks vnto my selfe for any service I doe vnto my selfe, so the vnion of such friends, being truely perfect, makes them loose the feeling of such duties, and hate, and expell from one another these words of division, and difference; benefit, good deed, dutie, obligation, acknowledge­ment, prayer, thanks, and such their like. All things being by effect common betweene [Page 94] them; wils, thoughts, judgements, goods, wives, children, honour, and life; and their mutuall agreement, being no other than one soule in two bodies, according to the fit defi­nition of Aristotle, they can neither lend or give ought to each other. See here the rea­son why Law-makers, to honour marriage with some imaginary resemblance of this divine bond, inhibite donations betweene husband and wife; meaning thereby to inferre, that all things should peculiarly bee proper to each of them, and that they have nothing to divide and share together. If in the friendship wherof I speake, one might give vnto another, the receiver of the benefit should binde his fellow. For, each seeking more than any other thing, to doe each other good, he who yeelds both matter and occasion, is the man sheweth himselfe liberall, giving his friend that contentment, to effect towards him what he desireth most. When the Philosopher Diogenes wanted money, he was wont to say; That he re-de­manded the same of his friends, and not that he demanded it: And to shew how that is practised by effect, I will relate an auncient singular example. Eudamidas the Corinthian had two friends. Charixenus a Sycionian, and Aretheus a Corinthian; being vpon his death-bed, and very poore, and his two friends very rich, thus made his last will and testament. To Aretheus, I bequeath the keeping of my mother, and to maintaine her when she shall be [...]lde: To Charixenus the marrying of my daughter, and to give her as great a dowry as he may: and in case one of them shall chance to die before, I appoint the surviver to substitute his charge, and supply his place. Those that first saw this testament, laughed and mocked at the same; but his heires being advertised thereof, were very well pleased, and received it with singular contentment. And Charixenus one of them, dying five daies after Eudamidas, the substitution being de­clared in favour of Aretheus, he carefully and very kindly kept and maintained his mother, and of five talents that he was worth, he gave two & a halfe in mariage to one only daughter he had, and the other two & a halfe to the daughter of Eudamidas, whom he maried both in one day. This example is very ample, if one thing were not, which is the multitude of friends: For, this perfect amity I speake-of, is indivisible; each man doth so wholy give himselfe vnto his friend, that he hath nothing left him to divide else-where: moreover he is grieved that he is double, triple, or quadruple, and hath not many soules, or sundry wils, that he might con­ferre them all vpon this subject. Common friendships may bee divided; a man may love beautie in one, facilitie of behaviour in another, liberalitie in one, and wisedome in another, paternity in this, fraternity in that man, & so forth: but this amitie which possesseth the soul, and swaies it in all soveraigntie, it is impossible it should be double. If two at one instant should require helpe, to which would you runne? Should they crave contrary off [...]ces of you, what order would you follow? Should one commit a matter to your silence, which if the o­ther knew would greatly profit him, what course would you take? Or how would you dis­charge your selfe? A singular and principall friendship dissolveth all other duties, & freeth all other obligations. The secret I have sworne not to reveale to another, I may without per­iurie impart it vnto him, who is no other but my selfe. It is a great and strange woonder for a man to double himselfe; & those that talk of tripling, know not, ‘nor cannot reach vnto the height of it. Nothing is extreame, that hath his like. And he who shall presuppose, that of two I love the one as well as the other’, and that they enter-love one another, and love me as much as I loue them: he multiplieth in brother-hood, a thing most singular, and alonely one, and then which one alone is also the rarest to be found in the world. The remainder of this histo­ry agreeth very wel with what I said; for, Eudamidas giveth as a grace & fauor to his friends to employ them in his need: he leaveth them as his heires of his liberality, which consisteth in putting the meanes into their hands, to doe him good. And doubtlesse, the force of friendship is much more richly shewen in his deed, then in Aretheus. To conclude, they are imaginable effects, to him that hath not tasted them; and which makes me woonderfully to honor the answer of that yong Souldier to Cyrus, who enquiring of him, what he would take for a horse, with which he had lately gained the prize of a race, and whether he would change him for a Kingdome? No surely my Liege (said he) yet would I willingly forgoe him to gaine a true friend, could I but finde a man worthy of so precious an alliance. He said not ill, in saying, could I but finde. For, a man shall easily finde men fit for a superficiall acquain­tance; but in this, wherein men negotiate from the very centre of their harts, and make no spare of any thing, it is most requisite, all the wardes and springs be sincerely wrought, and perfectly true. In confederacie [...], which hold but by one end, men have nothing to pro­vide [Page 95] for, but for the imperfections, which particularly doe interest and concerne that end and respect. It is no great matter what religion my Physician and Lawyer is of: this consi­deration hath nothing common with the offices of that friendship they owe-mee. So doe I in the familiar acquaintances, that those who serve-me contract with me. I am nothing inquisitive whether a Lackey be chaste or no, but whether he be diligent: I feare not a ga­ming Muletier, so much as if he be weake; nor a hot swearing Cooke, as one that is ignorant and vnskilfull; I never meddle with saying what a man should do in the world; there are over many others that do it; but what my selfe do in the world.

Concerning familiar table-talke, I rather acquaint my selfe with, and follow a merry con­ceited humour, than a wise man: And in bed I rather prefer beauty, then goodnesse; and in so­ciety or coversation of familiar discourse, I respect rather sufficiency, though without Preua' hommie, and so of all things else. Even as he that was found riding vpon an hobby-horse, playing with his children, besought him, who thus surprized him, not to speake of-it, vntil he were a father himself, supposing the tender fondnesse, and fatherly passion, which then would possesse his minde, should make him an impartiall iudge of such an action. So would I wish to speake to such as had tried what I speake of: but knowing how far such an amitie is from the common vse, & how seld seene and rarely found, I looke not to finde a competent judge. For, even the discourses, which sterne antiquitie hath left vs concerning this subject, seeme to me but faint and forcelesse in respect of the feeling I have of▪it: And in that point the ef­fects exceed the very precepts of Philosophie.

Ancient Menander accounted him happy, that had but met the shadow of a true friend: verily he had reason to say so, especially if he had tasted of any: for truely, if I com­pare all the rest of my forepassed life, which although I have by the meere mercy of God, past at rest and ease, and except the losse of so deare a friend, free from all grievous afflicti­on, with an ever-quietnesse of minde, as one that have taken my naturall and originall com­modities in good payment, without searching any others: if, as I say, I compare-it all vnto the foure yeares, I so happily enjoied the sweet company, and deare-deare society of that wor­thy man, it is nought but a vapour, nought but a darke and yrkesome light. Since the time I lost him,

I doe but languish, I doe but sorrow: and even those pleasures, all things present-me with, in stead of yeelding me comfort, doe but redouble the griefe of his losse. We were copart­ners in all things. All things were with vs at halfe; me thinkes I have stolne his part from him.

I was so accustomed to be ever two, and so enured to be never single, that me thinks I am but halfe my selfe. Hor. li. 2. [...]d. 17. 5.

There is no action can betide me, or imagination possesse me, but I heare him saying, as indeed he would have done to me: for even as he did excell me by an infinite distance in all other sufficiencies and vertues, so did he in all offices and duties of friendship.

but let-vs a little heare this yong man speake, being but sixteene yeares of age.

Because I have found this worke to have since bin published (and to an ill end) by such as seeke to trouble and subvert the state of our common-wealth, nor caring whether they shall reforme it or no; which they have fondly inserted among other writings of their invention, I have revoked my intent, which was to place-it here. And lest the Authors memory should any way be interessed with those that could not thoroughly know his opinions and acti­ons, they shall vnderstand, that this subject was by him treated of in his infancie, onely by way of exercise, as a subject, common, bare-worne, and wyer-drawne in a thousand bookes. I will never doubt but he beleeved what he writ, and writ as he thought: for hee was so conscientious, that no lie did ever passe his lips, yea were it but in matters of sport or play: and I know, that had it bin in his choyce, he would rather have bin borne at Ʋe­nice, than at Sarlac; and good reason why: But he had an other maxime deepely imprin­ted in his minde, which was, carefully to obey, and religiously to submit himselfe to the lawes, vnder which he was borne. There was never a better Citizen, nor more affected to the welfare and quietnesse of his countrie, nor a sharper enemie of the changes, innova­tions, newfangles, and hurly-burlies of his time: He would more willingly have imployed the vtmost of his endevours to extinguish and suppresse, then to favour or further them: His minde was modelled to the patterne of other best ages. But yet in exchange of his seri­ous treatise, I will here set you downe another, more pithie, materiall, and of more conse­quence, by him likewise produced in that tender age.

The eight and twentieth Chapter.

MAdame, I present you with nothing that is mine, either because it is already yours, or because I finde nothing therein woorthy of you. But wheresoever these verses shall be seene, for the honor which thereby shall redound to them, by having this glorious Corisand [...] of Andoms for their guide, I thought it good to adorne them with your woorthie name. I have deemed this present fit for your Ladiship, forsomuch as there are few Ladies in France, that either can better judge of Poesie, or fitter apply the vse of it, then your woorthy selfe: and since in these her drooping daies, none can give it more life, or vigorous spirit, than you, by those rich and high-tuned accords, wherewith amongst a million of other rar [...] beauties, nature hath richly graced you. Madame, these verses deserve to be cherished by you: and I am perswaded you will be of mine opinion, which is, that none have come out of Gaskonie, that either had more wit, or better inuention, and that witnesse to have procee­ded from a richer vaine. And let no jealousie possesse you, inasmuch as you have but the re­mainder of that, which whilome I caused to be printed vnder the name of my Lord of Foix, your woorthy, noble and deare kinsman: For truely, these have a kinde of livelinesse, and more piercing Emphasis than any other, and which I can not well expresse: as hee that made them in his Aprils youth, and when he was enflamed with a noble-glorious flame, as I will one day tell your honour in your care. The other were afterward made by him in fa­vour of his wife, at what time he wooed and solicited her for mariage, and began to feele I wot not what martiall-chilnesse, and husbands-coldnesse. And I am one of those, whose opinion is, that divine Poesie doth no where fadge so well, and so effectually applaudeth, as in a youthfull, wanton, and vnbridled subject. The above-mentioned nine and twentie Sonnes of Boetie, and that in the former impressions of this booke were heere set downe, have since beene printed with his other works.

The nine and twentieth Chapter.

AS if our sense of feeling were infected, wee corrupt by our touching, things that in themselves are faire and good. We may so seize on vertue, that if we embrace it with an over greedie and violent desire, it may become vitious. Those who say, There is never excesse in vertue, because it is no longer vertue if any excesse be in it, doe but jeast at words.

Philosophie is a subtile consideration. A man may love vertue too much, and exces­sively demeane himselfe in a good action. Gods holy word doth apply it selfe to this byase. Be not wiser then you should, and be soberly wise. I have seene some great men, blemish the re­putation of their religion, by shewing themselves religious beyond the example of men of their qualitie. I love temperate and indifferent natures. Immoderation towards good, if it offend me not, it amazeth, and troubleth me how I should call it. Neither Pausanias his mother, who gave the first instruction, and for her sonnes death brought the first stone: Not Posthumius the Dictator, that brought his owne sonne to his end, whom the heate and for­wardnesse [Page 98] of youth, had haply before his ranke, made to charge his enemies, seeme so just as strange vnto me. And I neither love to perswade or follow so savage and so deare a vertue. The Archer that overshootes his marke, doth no otherwise than he that shooteth short. Mine eies trouble me as much in climbing vp toward a great light, as to goe downe in the darke. Caliscles in Plato saith, The extremitie of Philosophie to bee hurtfull: and per­swades no man to wade further into it, then the bounds of profit: And that taken with moderati­on, it is pleasant and commodious, but in the end it makes a man wilde and vicious, disdainfull of re­ligion and of common lawes: an enemie of civill conversation: a foe to humane sensualitie, and worldly pleasures: incapable of all politike administration; and vnfit to assist others or to helpe him­selfe: apt to be without revenge buffeted, and bassled. He saith true: for in her excesse, she en­thralleth our naturall libertie, and by an importunate wile, diverts vs from the faire and plaine path, which nature traceth out for vs. The love we beare to women, is very lawfull; yet doth Divinitie bridle and restraine the same. I remember to have read in Saint Thomas, in a place where he condemneth marriages of kinsfolkes in forbidden degrees, this one reason amongst others: that the love a man beareth to such a woman may be immoderate; for, if the wedlocke, or husband-like affection be sound and perfect, as it ought to be, and also surcharged with that a man oweth to alliance and kindred, there is no doubt, but that sur­crease may easily transport a husband beyond the bounds of reason. Those Sciences that direct the maners of men, as Divinitie and Philosophie, medleth with all things. There is no action so private and secret may be concealed from their knowledge and jurisdiction. Well doe they learne that search and censure their libertie. It is women communicate their partes as much as a man list to wantonize with them: but to phisicke them bashfulnesse forbids them. I will then in their behalfe teach husbands this, if there be any too much flesht vpon them: which is, that the verie pleasures they have by the familiaritie of their wives, except moderately vsed; they are reprooved: and not onely in that, but in any other vnlawfull subjects, a man may trespasse in licentiousnesse and offend in excesse. Those shamelesse endearings, which the first heate suggests vnto vs in that sportfull delight, are not onely vndecently, but hurtfully employed towards our wives. Let them at least learne impudencie from another hand. They are ever broad-waking when wee neede them. I have vsed no meanes but naturall and simple instruction. Marriage is a religious and devout bond: and that is the reason the pleasure a man hath of it, should be a moderate, staied, and serious pleasure, and mixed with severitie, it ought to bee a voluptuousnesse somewhat circumspect and conscientious. And because it is the chiefest of generation, there are that make a question, whether it be lawfull to require them of copulation, as well when we have no hope of children, as when they are over-aged, or bigge with childe. It is an ho­micide, according to Plato. Certaine nations (and amongst others, the Mahometane) ab­horre Conjunction with women great with childe. Many also with those that have their monethly disease. Zenobia received her husband but for one charge; which done, al the time of her conception, she let him goe at randon, and that past, she gave him leave to begin a­gaine: a notable and generous example of marriage.

Plato borroweth the narration (of some needy and hunger-starven Poet) of this sport. That Iupiter one day gave his wife so hot a charge, impatient to stay till she came to bed, hee laide her along vpon the floore, and by the vehemence of his pleasure forgot the vrgent and weighty resolutions lately concluded vpon with the other gods of his caelestiall court; boa­sting he found it as sweet at that time, as he had done, when first he spoiled her of her virgi­nitie, by stealth and vnknowne to their parents. The Kings of Persia, called for their wives, when they went to any solemne feast, but when much drinking and wine began to heate them in good earnest they sent them to their chambers, seeing they could no longer refrain, but must needs yeeld to sensual tie, lest they should be partakers of their immoderate lust; and in their steade sent for other women, whom this duty of respect might not concerne. All pleasures and gratifications are not well placed in all sortes of people. Epaminondas had caused a dissolute yoong man to be imprisoned: Pelopidas entreated him, that for his sake he would set him at libertie, but he refused him, and yeelded to free him at the request of an harlot of his, which likewise sued for his enlargement; saying, it was a gratification due vnto a Courtizan, and not to a Captaine. Sophocles being partner with Pericles in the Pretorship, seeing by chance a faire boy to passe by: Oh what a beauteous boy goeth yonder! said he to Pericles: That [Page 99] speech were more fitting another then a Pretor, answered Pericles, who ought not onely to haue chaste handes, but also vnpolluted eies. Aelius Verus the Emperour, his wife complaining that he followed the love of other women, answered he did it for conscience sake, for so much as ma­riage was a name of honour, and dignity, and not of foolish and lascivious lust. And our Ecclesiasti­call Historie, hath with honour preserved the memorie of that wife, which sued to be devor­ced from her husband, because she would not second and consent to his over-insolent and lewde embracements. To conclude, there is no voluptuousnesse so just, wherein excesse and intemperance is not reprochfull vnto vs. But to speake in good sooth, is not a man a mise­rable creature? He is scarce come to his owne strength by his naturall conditions, to taste one onely compleate, entire and pure pleasure, but he laboreth by discourse to cut it off: he is not wretched enough, except by arte and study he augment his miserie.

Humane wisedome doth foolishly seeke to be ingenious in exercising her-selfe to abate the number, and diminish the pleasure of sensualities, that pertaine to vs: as it doth favorably and industriously in employing her devises, to paint and set a luster on evils, before our eies, and therewith to recreate our sense. Had I beene chiefe of a faction, I would have followed a more naturall course, which to say true, is both commodious and sacred, and should perad­venture have made my selfe strong enough to limite the same. Although our spirituall and corporall Physitians: as by covenant agreed vpon betweene them, finde no way of recove­rie, nor remedies for diseases of bodie and minde, but by torment, griefe and paine, watch­ing, fasting, haire-shirts, farre and solitarie exile, perpetuall prison, roddes and other afflicti­ons, have therefore beene invented: But so, that they be truely afflictions, and that there be some stinging sharpenesse in them: And that the successe be not as Gallios was, who having beene confined to the ile of Lesbos, newes came to Rome, that there he lived a merry life; and what the Senate had laide vpon him for a punishment, redounded to his commodity: where­vpon they agreed to revoke him home to his owne house and wife, strictly enjoyning him to keepe the same, thereby to accommodate their punishment to his sense and feeling. For he to whom fasting should procure health and a merrie heart, or he to whom poison should be more healthie then meate, it would be no longer a wholesome receipt, no more then drugs in other medicines, are of no effect to him that takes them with appetite and pleasure. Bit­ternesse and difficultie are circumstances fitting their operat on. That nature which should take Reubarbe as familiar, should no doubt corrupt the vse of it; it must be a thing that hurts the stomacke, if it shal cure it: and heere the common rule failes, that infirmities are cu­red by their contraries: for one ill cureth another. This impression hath some reference to this other so ancient, where some thinke they gratifie both heaven and earth by killing and massacring themselves, which was vniversally embraced in all religions. Even in our fathers age; Amurath at the taking of Isth [...]us, sacrificed six hundred yoong Graecians to his fathers soule: to the end their blood might serve as a propitiation to expiate the sinnes of the decea­sed. And in the new countries discovered in our daies yet vncorrupted, and virgins, in re­gard of ours, it is a custome well nigh received everiewhere. All their idolles are sprinkled with humane blood, not without divers examples of horrible crueltie. Some are burnt a­live, and halfe roasted drawn from the fire, that so they may pull out their harts and entrails; othersome, yea women are fleade quicke, and with their yet-bleeding skins, they invest and cover others. And no lesse of examples of constant resolution. For these wretched sacrifia­ble people, old men, women and children, some daies before, goe themselves begging their almes, for the offering of their sacrifice, and all of full glee, singing, and dancing with the rest, they present themselves to the slaughter. The Ambassadours of the Kings of Mexico, in declaring and magnifying the greatnesse of their Master to Fernando Cortez, after they had tolde him, that he had thirtie vassals, whereof each one was able to levie a hundred thousand combatants, and that he had his residence in the fairest and strongest Citie vnder heaven, added moreover, that he had fifty thousand to sacrifice for every yeere: verily some affirme that they maintaine continuall warres with certaine mightie neighbouring Nations, not so much for the exercise and training of their youth, as that they may have store of prisoners taken in warre to supply their sacrifices. In another province, to welcome the saide Cortez, [Page 100] they sacrificed fiftie men at one clap. I will tell this one storie more: Some of those peo­ple having beene beaten by him, sent to know him, and to intreat him of friendship. The messengers presented him with three kinds of presents, in this manner: Lord, if thou be a fierce God, that lovest to feed on flesh and bloud, here are five slaves, eate them, and we will bring thee more: if thou be a gentlie milde God, heere is incense and feathers; but if thou be a man, take these birdes and fruites, that heere we present and offer vnto thee.

The thirtieth Chapter.

AT what time King Pirrhus came into Italie, after he had survaide the marshalling of the Armie, which the Romanes sent against him: I w [...] not, said he, what barbarous men these are (for so were the Graecians wont to call all strange nations) but the disposition of this Armie, which I see, is nothing barbarous. So said the Graecians of that which Flaminius sent in­to their countrie: And Phillip viewing from a Tower the order and distribution of the Romane campe, in his kingdome vnder Publius Sulpitius Galba. Loe how a man ought to take heede, lest he over-weeningly follow vulgar opinions, which should be measured by the rule of reason, and not by the common report. I have had long time dwelling with me a man, who for the space of ten or twelve yeeres had dwelt in that other world, which in our age was lately discovered in those parts where Villegaignon first landed, and surnamed Antartike France. This discoverie of so infinite and vaste a countrie, seemeth woorthy great consideration. I wot not whether I can warrant my selfe, that some other be not discovered heereafter, sithence so many worthie men, and better learned then we are, have so many ages beene deceived in this. I feare me our eies be greater then our bellies, and that we have more curiositie then capacitie. We embrace all, but we fasten nothing but winde. Plate maketh Solon to report, that he had learn't of the Priests of the citie of Says in Aegypt, that whi­lom, and before the generall Deluge, there was a great Iland called Atlantis, situated at the Plat. Time. mouth of the straite of Gibraltar, which contained more firme land then Affrike and Asia together. And that the Kings of that countrie, who did not onely possesse that Iland, but had so farre entred into the maine land, that of the bredth of Affrike, they held as farre as Aegypt; and of Europes length, as farre as Tus [...]ame: and that they vndertooke to invade Asia, and to subdue all the nations that compasse the Mediterranean Sea, to the gulfe of Mare-Maggiore, and to that end they traversed all Spaine, France and Italie, so farre as Greece, where the Athenians made head against them; but that a while after, both the Athenians them­selves, and that great Iland, were swallowed vp by the Deluge. It is very likely this extreame ruine of waters wrought strange alterations in the habitations of the earth: as some hold that the Sea hath divided Sicilie from Italie,

Cypres from Soria, the Iland of Negroponte from the maine land of Be [...]tia, and in other pla­ces joyned landes that were sundred by the Sea, filling with mudde and sand the chanels be­tweene them.

But there is no great apparance, the said Iland should be the new world we have lately discovered; for, it well-nigh touched Spaine, and it were an incredible effect of inundation, [Page 101] to have remooved the same more then twelve hundred leagues, as we see it is. Besides, our moderne Navigations have now almost discovered, that it is not an Iland, but rather firme land, and a continent, with the East Indias on one side, and the countries lying vnder the two Poles on the other; from which if it be divided, it is with so narrow a straite, and intervalle, that it no way deserveth to be named an Iland: For, it seemeth there are certaine motions in these vast bodies, some naturall, and other some febricitant, as well as in ours. When I con­sider the impression my river of Dordoigne worketh in my time, toward the right shoare of her discent, and how much it hath gained in twentie yeares, and how many foundations of divers houses it hath overwhelmed and violently carried away; I confesse it to be an extra­ordinarie agitation: for, should it alwaies keepe one course, or had it euer kept the same, the figure of the world had ere this beene overthrowne: But they are subject to changes and alterations. Sometimes they overflow and spread themselves on one side, sometimes on another; and other times they containe themselves in their naturall beds or chanels. I speak not of sudden [...]undations, whereof we now treat the causes. In Modoc alongst the Sea­coast, my brother the Lord of Arsacke, may see a towne of his buried vnder the sands, which the Sea casteth vp before it: The toppes of some buildings are yet to be discerned. His Rents and Demaines have been changed into barren pastures. The inhabitants thereabouts affirme, that some yeeres since, the Sea encrocheth so much vpon them, that they have lost foure leagues of firme land: These sandes are her fore-runners. And we see great hillokes of gravell mooving which march halfe a league before it, and vsurpe on the firme land. The other testimonie of antiquitie, to which some will referre this discoverie, as in Aristotle (if at least that little booke of vnheard of woonders be his) where he reporteth that certaine Carthaginians having sailed ad [...]wart the Atlant [...] Sea, without the strait of Gibraltar, after long time, they at last discovered a great fertill Iland; all replenished with goodly woods, and watred with great and deepe rivers, farre distant from all land, and that both they and o­thers, allured by the goodnes and fertility of the soile, went thither with their wives, children, and houshold, and there began to enhabite and settle themselves. The Lords of Carthage seeing their countrie by little and little to be dispeopled, made a lawe and expresse inhibiti­on, that vpon paine of death no more men should goe thither, and banished all that were gone thither to dwell, fearing (as they said) that in successe of time, they would so mu tiply as they might one day supplant them, and overthrow their owne estate. This narration of Aristotle, hath no reference vnto our new found countries. This servant I had, was a simple and rough-hewen fellow: a condition fit to yeeld a true testimonie. For, subtile people may indeed marke more curiously, and observe things more exactly, but they amplifie and glose them: and the better to perswade, and make their interpretations of more validity, they cannot chuse but somewhat alter the storie. They never represent things truely, but fashion and maske them according to the visage they saw them in; and to purchase credit to their judgement, and draw you on to beleeve them, they commonly adorne, enlarge, yea, and Hyperbolise the matter. Wherein is required either a most sincere Reporter, or a man so simple, that he may have no invention to build vpon, and to give a true likelihood vnto false devises, and be not wedded to his owne will. Such a one was my man; who besides his owne report, hath many times shewed me divers Mariners, and Marchants, whom hee had knowne in that vovage. So am I pleased with his information, that I never enquire what Cosmographers say of it. We had need of Topographers to make vs particular narrations of the places they have beene in. For some of them, if they have the advantage of vs, that they have seene Palestine, will challenge a priviledge, to tell vs newes of all the world be­sides. I would have every man write what he knowes, and no more: not onely in that, but in all other subjects. For one may have particular knowledge of the nature of one river, and experience of the qualitie of one fountaine, that in other things knowes no more then another man: who neverthelesse to publish this little scantling, will vndertake to write of all the Phisickes. From which vice proceed divers great inconveniences. Now (to returne to my purpose) I finde (as farre as I have beene informed) there is nothing in that nation, that is either barbarous or savage, vnlesse men call that barbarisme which is not common to them. As indeed, we have no other ayme of truth and reason, then the example and Idea of the opinions and customes of the countrie we live in. There is ever perfect religion, per­fect policie, perfect and compleat vse of all things. They are even savage, as we call those [Page 102] fruites wilde, which nature of hir selfe, and of hir ordinarie progresse hath produced: where as indeede, they are those which our selves have altered by our artificiall divises, and diver ted from their common order, we should rather terme savage. In those are the true and most profitable vertues, and naturall properties most lively and vigorous, which in these we have bastardized, applying them to the pleasure of our corrupted taste. And if notwithstanding, in divers fruites of those countries that were never tilled, we shall finde, that in respect of ours they are most excellent, and as delicate vnto our taste; there is no reason, arte should gaine the point of honour of our great and puissant mother Nature. We have so much by our inventions, surcharged the beauties and riches of her workes, that we have altogether over-choaked her: yet where ever her puritie shineth, she makes our vaine, and frivolous en­terprises woonderfully ashamed.

All our endevous or wit, cannot so much as reach to represent the nest of the least bird­let, it's contexture, beautie, profit and vse, no nor the webbe of a seelie spider. All things (saith Plato) are produced, either by nature, by fortune, or by arte. The greatest and fairest by one or o­ther of the two first, the least and imperfect by the last. Those nations seeme therefore so barba­rous vnto me, because they have received very little fashion from humane wit, and are yet neere their originall naturalitie. The lawes of nature doe yet command them, which are but little bastardized by ours, And that with such puritie, as I am sometimes grieved the know­ledge of it came no sooner to light, at what time there were men, that better than we could have judged of it. I am sorie, Lycurgus & Plato had it not▪ for me seemeth that what in those nations we see by experience, doth not onely exceed all the pictures wherewith licentious Poesie hath proudly imbellished the golden age, & al hir quaint inventions to faine a happie condition of man, but also the conception & desire of Philosophie. They could not imagine a genuitie so pure and simple, as we s [...]e [...]by experience; nor ever beleeve our societie might be maintained with so little arte and humane combination. It is a nation, would I answer Plato, that hath no kinde of traffike, no knowledge of Letters, no intelligence of numbers, no name of magistrate, nor of politike superioritie; no vse of service, of riches or of povertie; no contracts, no successions, no partitions, no occupation but idle; no respect of kinred, but common, no apparell but naturall, no manuring of lands, no vse of wine, corne, or mettle. The very words that import lying, fal [...]hood, treason, dissimulations, covetousnes, envie, detra­ction, and pardon, were never heard of amongst them. How dissonant would hee finde his imaginarie common-weath from this perfection?

Furthermore, they live in a country of so exceeding pleasant and temperate situation, that as my testimonies have tolde me, it is very rare to see a sicke body amongst them; and they have further assured me, they never saw any man there, either shaking with the palsie, tooth­lesse, with eies dropping, or crooked and stooping through age. They are seated alongst the sea-coast, encompassed toward the land with huge and steepie mountaines, having be­tweene both, a hundred leagues or thereabout of open and champaine ground. They have great abundance of fish and flesh, that have no resemblance at all with ours, and eate them without any sawces, or skill of Cookerie, but plaine boiled or broiled. The first man that brought a horse thither, although he had in many other voyages conversed with them, bred so great a horror in the land, that before they could take notice of him, they slew him with arrowes. Their buildings are very long, and able to containe two or three hundred soules, covered with barkes of great trees, fastned in the ground at one end, enterlaced and ioyned close together by the tops, after the maner of some of our Granges; the covering where­of hangs downe to the ground, and steadeth them as a flancke. They have a kinde of woode so hard, that ryving and cleaving the same, they make blades, swords, and grid-irons to broile [Page 103] their meate with. Their beds are of a kinde of cotten cloth, fastned to the house-roofe, as our ship-cabbanes: everic one hath his severall cowch; for the women lie from their hus­bands. They rise with the Sunne, and feed for all day, as soone as they are vp: and make no more meales after that. They drinke not at meate, as Suidas reporteth of some other people of the East, which dranke after meales, but drinke many times a day, and are much given to pledge carowses. Their drinke is made of a certaine roote, and of the colour of our Claret wines, which lasteth but two or three daies; they drinke it warme: It hath somewhat sharpe taste, wholsome for the stomack, nothing heady, but laxative for such as are not vsed vnto it, yet verie pleasing to such as are accustomed vnto it. Instead of bread, they vse a certain white composition, like vnto Corianders confected. I have eaten some, the taste whereof is some­what sweete and wallowish. They spend the whole day in dauncing. Their yoong men goe a hunting after wilde beastes with bowes and arrowes. Their women busie themselves there­whil'st with warming of their drinke, which is their chiefest office. Some of their old men, in the morning before they goe to eating, preach in common to all the houshold, walking from one end of the house to the other, repeating one selfe-same sentence many times, till he have ended his turn [...] (for their buildings are a hundred paces in length) he commends but two things vnto his auditorie, First, valour against their enemies, then lovingnesse vnto their wiues. They never misse (for their restraint) to put men in minde of this dutie, that it is their wives which keepe their drinke luke-warme, and well-seasoned. The forme of their beds, cordes, swordes, blades, and woodden bracelets, wherewith they cover their hand­wrists when they fight, and great Canes open at one end, by the sound of which they keepe time and cadence in their dauncing, are in many places to be seene, and namely in mine own house. They are shaven all-over, much more close and cleaner than wee are, with no other Razors than of wood or stone. They beleeve their soules to be eternall, and those that have deserved well of their Gods, to be placed in that part of heaven where the Sunne riseth, and the cursed toward the West in opposition. They have certaine Prophets and Priests, which commonly abide in the mountaines, & very seldome shew themselves vnto the people; but when they come downe, there is a great feast prepared, and a solemne assemblie of manie towneships together (each Grange as I have described maketh a village, and they are a­bout a French league one from another.) The Prophet speakes to the people in publike, exhorting them to embrace vertue, and follow their dutie. All their morall discipline con­taineth but these two articles; first an vndismaied resolution to warre, then an inviolable af­fection to their wiues. Hee doth also Prognosticate of things to come, and what successe they shall hope for in their enterprises: hee either perswadeth or disswadeth them from warre; but if he chance to misse of his divination, and that it succeed otherwise than hee foretolde them, if hee be taken, he is hewen in a thousand peeces, and condemned for a false Prophet. And therefore he that hath once misreckoned himselfe is never seene againe. Divination is the gift of God; the abusing wherof should be a punishable imposture. When the Divines amongst the Scithians had foretold an vntruth, they were couched along vp­on hurdles full of heath or brushwood, drawne by oxen, and so manicled hand and foote, burned to death. Those which manage matters subject to the conduct of mans sufficiencie, are excusable, although they shew the vtmost of their skill. But those that gull and conicatch vs with the assurance of an extraordinarie facultie, & which is beyond our knowledge, ought to be double punished; first because they performe not the effect of their promise, then for the rashnesse of their imposture and vnadvisednesse of their fraud. They warre against the nations, that lie beyond their mountaines, to which they go naked, having no other weapons then bowes, or wodden swords, sharpe at one end, as our broaches are. It is an admirable thing to see the constant resolutuion of their combates, which never end but by effusion of blood & murther: for they know not what feare or rowts are. Every Victor brings home the head of the enemie he hath slaine as a Trophey of his victorie, and fastneth the same at the en­trance of his dwelling place. After they have long time vsed and entreated their prisoners well, and with all commodities they can devise, he that is the Master of them; summoning a great assembly of his acquaintance; tieth a corde to one of the prisoners armes, by the end whereof he holdes him fast, with some distance from him, for feare he might offend him, and giveth the other arme, bound in like maner, to the dearest friend he hath, and both in the presence of all the assemblie kill him with swordes: which done, they roste, and then eare [Page 104] him in common, and send some slices of him to such of their friends as are absent. It is not as some imagine, to nourish themselves with it, (as anciently the Scithians wont to do,) but to represent an extreame, and inexpiable revenge. Which we proove thus; some of them per­ceiving the Portugales, who had confederated themselves with their adversaries, to v [...]e ano­ther kinde of death, when they tooke them prisoners; which was, to burie them vp to the middle, and against the vpper part of the body to shoote arrowes, and then being almost dead, to hang them vp; they supposed, that these people of the other world (as they who had sowed the knowledge of many vices amongst their neighbours, and were much more cunning in all kindes of evils and mischiefe then they) vnder-tooke not this maner of re­venge without cause, and that consequently it was more smartfull, and cruell then theirs, and therevpon began to leave their old fashion to follow this. I am not sorie we note the bar­barous horror of such an action, but grieved, that prying so narrowly into their faults we are so blinded in ours. I thinke there is more barbarisme in eating men alive, then to feed vpon them being dead; to mangle by tortures and torments a body full of lively sense, to roast him in peeces, to make dogges and swine to gnawe and teare him in mammockes (as wee have not onely read, but seene very lately, yea and in our owne memorie, not amongst ancient e­nemies, but our neighbours and fellow-citizens; and which is woorse, vnder pretence of pi­etie and religion) then to roast and eate him after he is dead. Chrysippus and Zeno, arch pil­lers of the Stoicke sect, have supposed that it was no hurte at all, in time of need, and to what end soever, to make vse of our carrion bodies, and to seed vpon them, as did our forefathers, who being besieged by Caesar in the Citie of Alexia, resolved to sustaine the famine of the siege, with the bodies of old men, women, & other persons vnserviceable and vnfit to fight.

And Phisitians feare not, in all kindes of compositions availefull to our health, to make vse of it, be it for outward or inward applications: But there was never any opinion found so vnnaturall and immodest, that would excuse treason, treacherie, disloialty, tyrannie, cru­eltie, and such like, which are our ordinarie faults. We may then well call them barbarous, in regard of reasons rules, but not in respect of v [...] at exceed them in all kinde of barba­risme. Their warres are noble and generous, and have as much excuse and beautie, as this humane infirmitie may admit: they ayme at nought so much, and have no other founda­tion amongst them, but the meere jelousie of vertue. They contend not for the gaining of new landes; for to this day they yet enjoy that naturall vbertie and fruitesulnesse, which without labouring toyle, doth in such plenteous aboundance furnish them with all necessary things, that they neede not enlarge their limits. They are yet in that happy estate, as they desire no more, then what their naturall necessities direct them: whatsoever is beyond it, is to them fuperfluous. Those that are much about one age, doe generally enter-call one an­other brethren, and such as are yoonger, they call children, and the aged are esteemed as fa­thers to all the rest. These leave this full possession of goods in common, and without di­vision to their heires, without other claime or title, but that which nature doth plainely impart vnto all creatures, even as shee brings them into the world. If their neighbours chance to come over the mountaines to assaile or invade them, and that they get the victory over them, the Victors conquest is glorie, and the advantage to be and remaine superior in valour and vertue: else have they nothing to doe with the goods and spoyles of the van­quished, and so returne into their countrie, where they neither want any necessarie thing, nor lacke this great port on, to know how to enioy their condition happily, and are con­tented with what nature affoord [...]th them. So doe these when their turne commeth. They require no other ransome of their prisoners, but an acknowledgement and confession that they are vanquished. And in a whole age, a man shall not finde one, that doth not rather embrace death, then either by word or countenance remissely to yeeld one jot of an invin­cible courage. There is none seene that would not rather be slaine and devoured, then sue for life, or shew any feare: They vse their prisoners with all libertie, that they may so much the more holde their lives deare and precious, and commonly entertaine them with threats of future death, with the torments they shall endure, with the preparations intended for [Page 105] that purpose, with mangling and slicing of their members, and with the feast that shall be kept at their charge. All which is done, to wrest some remisse, and exact some faint-yeel­ding speech of submission from them, or to possesse them with a desire to escape or runne away; that so they may have the advantage to have danted and made them afraid, and to have forced their constancie. For certainly true victory consisteth in that onely point.

The Hungarians, a most warre-like nation, were whilome woont to pursue their pray no longer then they had forced their enemie to yeeld vnto their mercie. For, having wre­sted this confession from-him, they set him at libertie without offence or ransome, except it were to make him sweare, never after to beare armes against them. Wee get many ad­vantages of our enemies, that are but borrowed and not ours: It is the qualitie of porter­ly-rascall, and not of vertue, to have stronger armes, and sturdier legs: Disposition is a dead and corporall qualitie. It is a tricke of fortune to make our enemie stoope, and to bleare his eies with the Sunnes-light: It is a pranke of skill and knowledge to be cunning in the arte of fencing, and which may happen vnto a base and woorthlesse man. The reputation and woorth of a man consisteth in his heart and will: therein consists true honor: Constancie is valour, not of armes and legs, but of minde and courage? it consisteth not in the spirit and courage of our horse, nor of our armes, but in ours. He that obstinately faileth in his courage, Si succiderit, de genu pugnat, If hee slip or fall, he fights vpon his knee. He that in dan­ger of imminent death, is no whit danted in his assurednesse; he that in yeelding vp his ghost be holding his enemie with a scornefull and fierce looke, he is vanquished, not by vs, but by fortune: he is slaine, but not conquered. The most valiant, are often the most vnfortunate. So are there triumphant losses in envie of victories. Not those foure-sister-victories, the fai­rest that ever the Sunne beheld with his all-seeing eie, of Salamis, of Plateae, of Micale, and of Sicilia, durst ever dare to oppose all their glorie together, to the glory of the King L [...]onidas his discomsiture and of his men, at the passage of Thermopylae: what man did ever runne with so glorious an envie, or more ambitious desire to the goale of a combat, then Captaine Ischolas to an evident losse and overthrow? who so ingeniously or more politikely did ever assure him-selfe of his welfare, then he of his ruine? He was appointed to defend a certaine passage of Peloponesus against the Arcadians, which finding himselfe altogether vnable to performe, seeing the nature of the place, and inequalitie of the forces, and resol­ving, that whatsoever should present it selfe vnto his enemic, must necessarily be vtterly de­feated: On the other side, deeming it vnwoorthy both his vertue and magnanimitie, and the Lacedemonian name, to [...]a [...]le or faint in his charge, betweene these two extremities he resolved vpon a meane and indifferent course, which was this. The yoongost and best dis­posed of his troupe, he reserved for the service and defence of their countrie, to which hee sent them backe; and with those whose losse was least, and who might best be spared, hee determined to maintaine that passage, and by their death to force the enemie, to purchase the entrance of it as deare as possibly he could; as indeed it followed. For being suddenly environed round by the Arcadians: After a great slaughter made of them, both himselfe and all his were put to the sword. Is any Trophey assigned for conquerours, that is not more duly due vnto these conquered? A true conquest respecteth rather an vndanted resolution: and honourable end, then a faire escape, and the honour of vertue doth more consist in combating then in beating. But to returne to our historie, these prisoners, howsoever they are dealt withall, are so farre from yeelding, that contrariwise during two or three moneths that they are kept, they ever carry a cheerefull countenace, and vrge their keepers to ha­sten their triall, they outragiously defic, and injure them. They vpbraid them with their co­wardlinesse, and with the number of battels, they have lost againe theirs. I have a song made by a prisoner, wherein is this clause, Let them boldly come altogether, and flocke in multitudes, to feed on him; for with him they shall feed vpon their fathers, and grand­fathers, that heeretosore have served his bodie for food and nourishment: These muscles, (saith he) this flesh, and these veines, are your owne; fond men as you are, know you not that the substance of your forefathers limbes is yet tied vnto ours? Taste them well, for in [Page 106] them shall you finde the relish of your owne flesh: An invention, that hath no shew of bar­barisme, Those that paint them dying, and that represent this action, when they are put to execution, delineate the prisoners spitting in their executioners faces, and making mowes at them. Verily, so long as breath is in their bodie, they never cease to brave and defie them, both in speech and countenance. Surely, in respect of vs these are very savage men: for either they must be so in good sooth, or we must be so indeed: There is a woondrous distance betweene their forme and ours. Their men have many wives, and by how much more they are reputed valiant, so much the greater is their number. The maner and beau­tie in their marriages is woondrous strange and remarkable: For, the same jealousie our wives have to keepe vs from the love and affection of other women, the same have theirs to procure it. Being more carefull for their husbands honour and content, then of any thing else: They endevour and apply all their industrie, to have as many rivals as possibly they can, forasmuch as it is a testimonie of their husbands vertue. Our women would count it a woonder, but it is not so: It is vertue properly Matrimoniall; but of the highest kinde. And in the Bible, Lea, Rachell, Sara, and Iacobs wives, brought their fairest maiden ser­vants vnto their husbands beds. And Livia seconded the lustfull appetites of Augustus to her great prejudice. And Stratonica the wife of king Dei [...]tarus did not onely bring a most beauteous chamber-maide, that served her, to her husbands bed, but very carefully brought­vp the children he begot on her, and by all possible meanes aided and furthered them to succeed in their fathers roialtie. And least a man should thinke, that all this is done by a simple, and servile, or awefull dutie vnto their custome, and by the impression of their an­cient customes authoritie, without discourse or judgement, and because they are so blockish, and dull-spirited, that they can take no other resolution, it is not amisse, wee alleadge some evidence of their sufficiencie. Besides what I have said of one of their warlike songs, I have another amorous canzonet, which beginneth in this sence: Adder stay, stay good adder, that my sister may by the patterne of thy partie-coloured coate drawe the fashion and worke of a rich lace, for me to giue vnto my love; so may thy beautie, thy nimblenesse or disposition be ever preferred before all other serpents. The first couplet is the burthen of the song. I am so conver­sant with Poesie, that I amy judge, this invention hath no barbarisme at all in it, but is al­together Anacreontike. Their language is a kinde of pleasant speech, and [...]ath a pleasing sound, and some affinitie with the Greeke terminations. Three of that nation, ignorant how deare the knowledge of our corruptions will one day cost their repose, securitie, and happinesse, and how their ruine shall proceed from this commerce, which I imagine is al­ready well advanced, (miserable as they are to have suffered themselves to be so cosoned by a desire of new-fangled novelties, and to have quit the calmenesse of their climate, to come and see ours) were at Roane in the time of our late King Charles the ninth, who talked with them a great while. They were shewed our fashions, our pompe, and the forme of a faire Citie; afterward some demanded their advise, and would needes know of them what things of note and admirable they had observed amongst vs: they answered three things, the last of which I have forgotten, and am very sorie for it, the other two I yet remember. They saide, First, they found it very strange, that so many tall men with long beards, strong and well armed, as it were about the Kings persen (it is very likely they [...]ent the Switzers of his guard) would submit themselues to obey a beardlesse childe, and that we did not rather obuse one amongst them to command the rest. Secondly (they have a maner of phrase whereby they call men but a moytie one of another.) They had perceived, there were men amongst vs f [...]ll gorged with all sortes of commodities, and others which hunger-starved, and bare with neede and povertie, begged at their gates: and found it strange, these moyties so needie could endure such an in­iustice, and that they tooke not the others by the throte, or set fire on their houses. I talked a good while with one of them, but I had so bad an interpreter, and who did so ill apprehend my meaning, and who through his foolishnesse was so troubled to conceive my imaginations, that I could draw no great matter from him. Touching that point, wherein I demaun­ded of him, what good he received by the superioritie he had amongst his countriemen (for he was a Captaine and our Marriners called him King) he told me, it was to march formost in any charge of warre: further, I asked him, how many men did follow him, hee shewed me a distance of place, to signifie they were as many as might be contained in so much ground, which I guessed to be about 4. or 5. thousand men: moreover I demanded, [Page 107] if when warres were ended, all his authoritie expired; he answered, that hee had onely this left him, which was, that when he went on progresse, and visited the villages depending of him, the inhabitants prepared paths and high-waies athwart the hedges of their woods, for him to passe through at ease. All that is not very ill; but what of that? They weare no kinde of breeches nor hosen.

The one and thirtieth Chapter.

THings vnknowne are the true scope of imposture, and subject of Legerdemaine: foras­much as strangenesse it selfe doth first giue credite vnto matters, and not being subject to our ordinarie discourses, they deprive vs of meanes to withstand them. To this purpose, said Plato▪ it is an easie matter to please, speaking of the nature of the Gods, then of mens: For the Auditors ignorance lends a faire and large cariere, and free libertie, to the handling of secret hidden matters. Whence it followeth, that nothing is so firmly beleeued, as that which a man knoweth least; nor are there people more assured in their reports, then such as tell vs fables, as Al [...]humists, Prognosticators, Fortune-tellers, Palmesters, Phisitians, idgenus omne, and such like. To which, if I durst, I would joyne a rable of men; that are ordinarie interpreters and controulers of Gods secret desseignes, presuming to finde out the causes of every accident, and to prie into the secrets of Gods divine will, the incomprehensible motives of his works. And howbeit, the continuall varietie and discordance of events drive them from one corner to another, and from East to West, they will not leave to follow their bowle, and with one small pen [...]ill drawe both white and blacke. There is this commendable observance in a cer­taine Indian nation, who if they chance to be discomfited in any skirmish or battle, they publikely beg pardon of the Sunne, who is their God, as for an vnjust action, referring their good or ill fortune to divine reason, submitting their judgement and discourses vnto it. It suffiseth a Christian to beleeve, that all things come from God, to receive them from his di­vine, and inscrutable wisedome with thanksgiving, and in what manner soever they are sent him, to take them in good part. But I vtterly disalow a common custome amongst vs, which is to ground and establish our religion vpon the prosperitie of our enterprises. Our beleefe hath other sufficient foundations, and need not be authorized by events. For the people ac­customed to these plausible arguments, & agreeing with his taste, when events sort contrarie and disadvantageous to their expectation, they are in hazard to waver in their faith: As in the civill warres, wherein we are now for religions sake, those which got the advantage, at the conflict of Roch [...]labe [...]lle, making great ioy and bone-fires for that accident, and vsing that fortune, as an assured approbation of their faction: when afterward they come to excuse their disaster of Mort-contour and Iarnac, which are scourges and fatherly chastisements: if they have not a people wholy at their mercy, they will easily make him perceive, what it is to take two kinds of corne out of one sa [...]ke: & from one and the same mouth to blow both hot and cold. It were better to entertaine it with the true foundations of veritie. It was a notable Sea­battle, which was lately gained against the Turkes, vnder the conduct of Don Iohn of Au­stria. But it hath pleased God to make vs at other times both see and feele othe [...] such, to our no small losse and detriment. To conclude, it is no easie matter to reduce divine things vnto our ballance, so they suffer no impeachment: And he that would yeeld a reason, why Ar­rius and Leo his Pope, chiefe Principals, and maine supporters of this here [...]ie, died both at severall times, of so semblable and so strange deaths (for being forced through a violent bellie-ach to goe from their disputations to their close-stoole, both suddenly yeelded vp their ghosts on them) & exaggerate that divine vengeance by the circumstance of the place, might also adde the death of Hel [...]ogabalus vnto it, who likewise was slaine vpon a privie. But what? Ireneus is found to be engaged in like fortune: Gods intent being to teach vs, that the good have some thing else to hope for, and the wicked somewhat else to feare, then the good [Page 108] or bad fortune of this world: He manageth and applieth them according to his secret dis­position: and depriveth vs of the meanes, thereby foolishly to make our profit. And those, that according to humane reason will thereby prevaile, doe but mocke themselves. They never give one touch of it, that they receive not two for it. S. Augustine giveth a no­table triall of it vpon his adversaries. It is a conflict, no more decided by the armes of me­morie, than by the weapons of reason. A man should be satisfied with the light, which it pleaseth the Sunne to communicate vnto vs by vertue of his beames; and he that shal lift vp his eies to take a greater within his bodie, let him not thinke it strange, if for a reward of his over-weening and arrogancie he looseth his sight. Quis hominum potest scire consilium De [...] Wisd. 9. 13. aut quis poterit cogitare, quid velit dominus? Who amongst men can know Gods counsell, or who can thinke what God will doe?

The two and thirtieth Chapter.

I Have noted the greatest part of ancient opinions to agree in this: That when our life affords more evill than good, it is then time to die: and to preserve our life to our torment and incommoditie, is to spurre and shocke the very rules of nature: as say the old rules.

But to drive off the contempt of death to such a degree, as to imploy it to distract, and remoov [...] himselfe from honours, riches, greatnesse, and other goods and favours, which wee call the goods of fortune: as if reason had not enough to doe, to perswade vs to forgoe and leave them, without adding this new surcharge vnto it, I had neither seene the same com­manded nor practised vntill such time as one place of Seneca came to my hands, wherein counselling Lucilius (a man mightie and in great authoritie about the Emperour) to change this voluptuous and pompous life, and to withdraw himselfe from this ambition of the world, to some solitarie, quiet and philosophicall life: about which Lucilius alleaged some difficulties: My advise is (saith he) that either thou leave and quit that life, or thy life alto­gether: But I perswade thee to follow the gentler way, and rather to vntie than breake what thou hast so ill [...]it: alwaies provided thou breake it, if thou canst not otherwise vntie the same. There is no man so base minded, that loveth not rather to fall once, then ever to remaine in feare of falling. I should have deemed this counsel agreeing with the Stoickes [...]udenes: But it is more strange it should be borrowed of Epicurus, who to that purpose writeth this consonant vnto Idomeneus. Yet thinke I to have noted some such like thing amongst our owne people, but with christian moderation. Saint Hilarie Bishop of Poitiers, a famous enemie of the Arrian heresie, being in Syria, was advertised that Abra his onely daughter whom hee had left at­home with her mother, was by the greatest Lords of the countrie solicited and sued vnto for marriage, as a damosell very well brought vp, faire, rich, and in the prime of her age: he writ vnto her (as we see) that she should remoove her affections, from all the pleasures and advantages might be presented her: for, in his voyage he had found a greater and worthier match or husband of far higher power and magnificence, who should present and endowe hir with roabes and jewels of vnvaluable price. His purpose was to make hir loose the ap­petite and vse of worldly pleasures, and wholie to wed hir vnto God. To which, deeming his daughters death, the shortest and most assured way, he never ceased by vowes, prayers, [Page 109] and orisons, humbly to beseech God to take her out of this world, and to call her to his mercie, as it came to passe; for [...]ee deceased soone after his returne: whereof he shewed ma­nifest tokens of singular gladnesse. This man seemeth to endeere himselfe above others, in that at first [...]ight he addresseth himselfe to this meane, which they never embrace but subsidi­arily, and sithence it is towards his onely daughter. But I will omit the successe of this storie, although it be not to my purpose. Saint Hilaries wife, having vnderstood by him, how her daughters death succeeded with his intent and will, and how much more happy it was for hir to be dislodged from out this world, then still to abide therein, conceived so lively an appre­hension of the eternall and heavenly blessednesse, that with importunate instancie she solici­ted her husband, to do as much for her. And God, at their earnest entreatie, and joynt-com­mon prayers, having soone after taken her vnto himselfe: it was a death embraced with sin­gular and mutuall contentment to both.

The three and thirtieth Chapter.

THe inconstancie of Fortunes diverse wavering, is the cause shee should present vs with all sortes of visages. Is there any action of justice more manifest then this? Caesar Bor­ [...] Duke of Val [...]ntino [...]s, having resolved to poison Adrian Cardinall of Cornetto, with whom Pope Alexander the [...]xt, his father and he were to sup that night in Vaticane, sent certaine bottles of empoysoned wine before, and gave his Butler great charge to have a special care of it. The Pope comming thither before his sonne, and calling for some drinke; the butler supposing the Wine had been so carefully commended vnto him for the goodnesse of it, immediately presented some vnto the Pope, who whilest he was drinking, his sonne came in and never imagining his bottles had beene toucht, tooke the cup and pledged his father, so that the Pope died presently; and the sonne, after he had long time beene tormented with sicknesse, recovered to another woorse fortune. It somtimes seemeth, that when we least think on her, shee is pleased to sporte with vs. The Lord of Estree, the guidon to the Lord of Ʋand [...]sme, and the Lord of Liques, Lieutenant to the Duke of Ascot, both servants to the Lord of Founguesell [...]s sister, albeit of contrarie factions (as it happneth among neighboring bordurers) the Lord of Liques got her to wife: But even vpon his wedding day, and which is woorse, before his going to bed, the bridegroome desiring to breake a staffe in favour of his new Bride and Mistris, went out to skirmish neere to Saint Omer, where the Lord of Estree being the stronger tooke him prisoner, and to endeare his advantage, the Lady her selfe was faine,

in courtesie, to sue vnto him for the deliverie of his prisoner, which he granted; the French Nobilitie never refusing Ladies any kindnesse. Seemeth she not to be a right artist? Con­stantine the sonne of H [...]len [...]ounded the Empire of Constantinople, and so, many ages after, Constantin [...] the sonne of H [...]len ended the same. She is sometimes pleased to envie our mira­cles: we hold an opinion, that King Clovis besieging A [...]goulesme, the wals by a divine favour [...]e [...]l of themselves. And Bouchet borroweth of some author, that King Robert beleagring a Citie, and having secretly stolne away from the siege to Orleans, there to solemnize the feasts of Saint Aignan, as he was in his earnest devotion, vpon a certaine passage of the Masse, the walles of the towne besieged, without any batterie, fell flat to the ground. She did alto­gether contrarie in our warres of Millane: For, Captaine Rens [...], beleagring the Citie of [Page 110] Eronna for vs, and having caused a forcible mine to be wrought vnder a great curtine of the walles, by force whereof, it being violently flowne vp from out the ground, did notwith­standing, whole and vnbroken, fall so right into his foundation againe, that the besieged found no inconvenience at all by it. She sometimes playeth the Phisitian. Iason Therius being vtterly forsaken of all Phisitians, by reason of an impostume he had'm his breast, and desirous to be rid of it, though it were by death, as one of the forlorne hope, rusht into a battel amongst the thickest thro [...]g of his enemies, where he was so rightly wounded acrosse the bodie, that his impostume brake, and he was cured. Did shee not exceed the Painter Protogenes in the skill of his trade? who having perfected the image of a wearie and pan­ting dog, and in all parts over-tired, to his content, but being vnable, as he desired, hvely to represent the drivel or slaver of his mouth vexed against his owne worke, took his spunge, and moist as it was with divers colours, thr [...] [...]t at the picture, with purpose to blot and deface all hee had done: fortune did so fitly and rightly carrie the same toward the dogs chaps, that there it perfectly finished, what his arte could never attaine vnto. Doth she not sometimes addresse and correct our counsels? Isahell Queene of England, being to repasse from Zeland into her kingdome with an armie, in favour of her sonne against her husband, had vtterly beene cast away, had she come vnto the Port intended, being there expected by her enemies: But fortune against her will, brought her to another place, where shee safe­ly landed. And that ancient fellow, who hurling a stone at a dog, misst him, and there withall hit and slew his stepdame, had she not reason to pronounce this verse,

Fortune hath better advise then wee. Icetes had practised and subor [...]ed two souldiers to kill [...]smole [...]n, then residing at Adra [...] in S [...]e [...]ly. They appointed a time to doe, as he should be assisting at some sacrifice; and scattering then selves amongst the multitude, as they were winking one vpon another, to shew how they had a verie [...]t opportunitie to doe the deede: Loe heere a third man, that with a huge blow of a sword, striketh one of them over the head and fels him dead to the ground and so runnes away. His fellow suppoting himselfe dis [...] ­vered, and vndone, runs to the altar, suing for sanctuarie, with promise to confesse the truth; Even as he was declaring the conspiracie, behold the third man, who had likewise beene ta­ken, whom as a murtherer the people tugged and haled through the throng toward [...]ole­on and the chiefest of the assembly, where he humbly calleth for mercie, alleadging that he had justly murthered the murtherer of his father, whom his good chance was to [...]de there, averring by good witnesses, before them all, that in the Citie of the Leontines, his father had beene proditoriously slaine by him, on whom he had now revenged himselfe. In meede whereof, because he had beene so fortunate (in seeking to right his fathers vntimely death) to save the common-father of the S [...]cilians fro [...] so imminent a danger, he had ten Attike mines awarded him. This fortune in her directions exceedeth all the rules of humane wise­dome. But to conclude, is not an expresse application of hir favour, goodnesse, and singular pietie manifestly discovered in this action? Ignat [...]us the Father and the Sonne, both bani­shed by proscription by the Triumvirs of Rome resolved on this generous act, to yeeld their lives one into anothers hands, and therby frustrate the Tyrants cruelty. They furiously with their keen rapiers drawne, ran one against another: Fortune so directed their points, that each received his mortall stroke; adding to the honor of seld-seene an amity, that they had just so much strength left them, to draw their armed and bloody hands from out their goa­red wounds, in that plight, so fast to embrace, and so hard to claspe one another, that the hangmen were forced, at one stroke, and togither, to cut off both their heads; leaving their bodies for ever tied in so honorable a knot, and their wounds so joyned, that they lovingly drew and suckt each others blood, breath, and life.

The foure and thirtieth Chapter.

MY whilome-father, a man who had no helpe but from experience, and his owne na­ture, yet of an vnspotted iudgement, hath heer-tofore told me, that he much desi [...]ed to bring in this custome, which is, that in all cities there should be a certain appointed place, to which, whosoever should have need of any thing, might come and cause his businesse to be registred by some officer appointed for that purpose: As for example, if one have pearles to sell, he should say, I seeke to sell some pearls: and another, I secke to buy some pearls: Such a man would faine have companie to travell to Paris; Such a one enquireth for a servant of this or that qual [...]ties; Such a one seeketh for a Master; another a work-man; Some this; some that; every man as he needed. And it seemeth that this meanes of enter-warning one ano­ther; would b [...]ing no small co [...]oditie vnto common commerce & societie; For there are ever [...]onditions that enter-seeke one another, and because they vnderstand not one another, they leave men in great n [...]es [...]tie. I vnderstand, to the infamous reproach of our age, that e­ven in our sight, two [...]ost excellent men in knowledge, have miserably perished for want of food and other necessaries: L [...]lius Gregorius Giraldus in Italy, and Sebast [...]an [...] Castalio in Ger­ma [...]ie: And I verily beleeve there are many thousands, who had they knowne or vnderstood their wants, would either have sent for them, and with large stipends entertained them, or would have convaide them succour, where ever they had beene. The world is not so gene­rally corrupted, but I know some, that would earnestly wish, and with harty affections desire, the goods which their forefathers have left them, might, so long as it shal please fortune they may enjoy them, be emploied for the reliefe of rare, and supply of excellent mens necessitie, & such as for any kind of worth and vertue are remarkable; many of which are daily seene to be pursued by ill fortune even to the vtmost extremitie, and that would take such order for them, as had they not their ease and content, it might onely be imputed to their want of rea­son or lacke of discretion. In this Oeconomicke or houshold order my father had this order, which I can commend, but no way follow: which was, that besides the day booke of house­hold affaires, wherin are reg [...]stred at least expences, paiments, gi [...]ts, bargains & sales, that re­quire not a Nota [...]es hand to them, which booke a receiver had the keeping of: he appointed another journall-booke to one of his servants, who was h [...]s clarke, wherein he should insert & orderly set downe all accidents worthy the noting, & day by day register the memories of the historie of [...]as house: A thing very pleasant to reade, when time began to weare out the remembrance of them, and fit for vs to passe the time withall, and to resolve some doubts: when such a worke was begunne, when ended, what way or course was taken, what accidents hapned, how long it continued; all our voyages; where, and how long we were from home; our marriages, who died, and when; the receiving of good or bad tidings, who came, who went, changing or remooving of houshold officers, taking of new, or discharging of old ser­vants, and such like matters. An ancient custome, and which I would have all men vse and bring into fashion againe in their severall homes: and I repent my selfe, I have so foolish­ly neglected the same.

The five and thirtieth Chapter.

WHatsoever I ayme at, I must needes force some of customes contradictions, so care­fully hath she barred all our entrances. I was devising in this chil-cold season, whe­ther [Page 112] the fashion of these late discovered Nations to go naked, be a custome forced by the hote temperature of the ayre, as we say of the Indians and Moores, or whether it be an origi­nall manner of manking. Men of vnderstanding, forasmuch as whatsoever is contained vnder heaven (as saith the holie Writ) is subject to the same lawes, are wont in such-like con­siderations, where naturall lawes are to be distinguished from those invented by man, to have recourse to the generall policie of the world, where nothing that is counterfet can be admit­ted. Now all things being exactly furnished else-whence with all necessaries to maintaine this being, it is not to be imagined that we alone should be produced in a defective and indi­gent estate, yea, and in such a one, as can not be maintained without forraine help. My opinion is, that even as all plants, trees, living creatures, and whatsoever hath life, is na­turally seene furnished with sufficient furniture to defend it selfe from the injurie of all wethers:

Even so were we: But as those who by an artificiall light extinguish the brightnesse of the day, we have quenched our propermeanes, by such as wee have borrowed. And wee may easily discerne, that only custome makes that seeme impossible vnto vs, which is not so: For of those nations that haue no knowledge of clothes, some are found situated vnder the same heaven, and climate, or paralell, that we are-in, and more cold and s [...]arper the [...]ours. More­over, the tenderest parts of vs are ever bare and naked, as our eyes, face, mouth, nose, and eares; and our countrie-swaines (as our forefathers wont) most of them at this day goe bare-brea­sted downe to the navill. Had we beene borne needing petti-coats and breeches, there-is no doubt, but nature would have armed that which she hath left to the batterie of seasons and furie of wethers, with some thicker skin or hide, as shee hath done our fingers ends, and the soales of our feet. Why seemes this hard to be believed? Betweene my fashion of apparell, and that of one of my countrie-clownes, I find much more difference betweene him and me, then betweene his fashion, and that of a man who is cloathed but with his bare skin. How many men (especially in Turkie,) go ever naked for devotions sake? A certaine man de­maunded of one of our loytring rogues, whom in the deep of frostie Winter, he saw wan­dring vp and downe with nothing but his shirt about-him, and yet as blithe and lustie as an other that keepes himselfe muffled and wrapt in warme furres vp to the eares; how he could have patience to go so. And have not y [...], good sir,) answered he) your face all bare? Imagine I am all face. The Italians report (as far as I remember) of the Duke of Florence his foole, who when his Lord asked him, how being so ill clad, he could endure the cold, which he hardly was able to doe himselfe; To whom the foole replied; Master, vse but my receipt, and put all the cloathes you have vpon you, as I dee all mine; you shall feel no more cold then I doe. King Massinissa, even in his oldest daies, were-it never so cold, so frostie, so stormie, or sharpe wether, could never be induced, to put some thing on his head, but went alwaies bare­headed. The like is reported of the Emperor S [...]verus. In the battels that past betweene the Aegyptians, and the Persians, Herodotus saith, that both himselfe and divers others tooke speciall notice, that of such as lay slaine on the ground, the Aegyptians sculs were without comparison much harder then the Persians: by reason that these go ever with their heads covered with coifs and turbants, and those from their infancie ever shaven and bare-hea­ded. And King Agesilaus, even in his decrepite age, was ever wont to weare his clothes both winter and Summer alike. Suetonius affirmeth, that Caesar did ever march for most be­fore his troupes, and most commonly bare-headed, and on foote, whether the sunne shone, or it rained. The like is reported of Hanniball,

A Venetian that hath long dwelt amongst them, and who is but lately returned thence, writteth, that in the Kingdome of Pegu, both men and women, having all other parts clad, goe ever bare-footed, yea, and on horse-backe also. And Plato for the better health and pre­servation [Page 113] of the body doth earnestly perswade, that no man should ever give the feet and the head other cover, then Nature hath allotted them. He whom the Polonians chuse for their king next to ours, who may worthily be esteemed one of the greatest princes of our age, doth never weare gloves, nor what wether soeuer it be, winter or summer, other bonnet a broad than in the warme house. As I cannot endure to goe vnbuttoned or vntrussed, so the hus­band-men neighbouring about me, would be, & feele themselves as fettred or hand-bound, with going so. Varro is of opinion, that when we were appointed to stand bare-headed before the gods, or in presence of the Magistrates, it was rather done for our health, and to enure and arme-vs against iniuries of the wether, than in respect of reverence. And since wee are speaking of cold, and are French-men, accustomed so strangely array our selves in party-coloured sutes (not I', because I seldome weare any other then blacke or white, in imitation of my father) let-vs adde this one thing more, which Captaine Martyn du Bellay relateth in the voyage of Luxemburg, where hee saieth to have seene so harde frosts, that their munition-wines were faine to be cut and broken with hatchets and wedges, and shared vnto the Souldiers by weight, which they caried a way in baskets; and Ovid.

The frosts are so hard and sharpe in the emboguing of the Meotis fennes, that in the very place where Mithridates Lieutenant had delivered a battle to his enemies, on hard ground, and drie-footed, and there defeated them; the next summer, he there obtained an­other sea-battle against them. The Romanes suffered a great disadvantage in the fight they had with the Carthaginians nere vnto Placentia, for so much as they went to their charge with their blood congealed, and limbes benummed, through extreame colde: whereas Han­niball, had caused many fires to be made through-out his campe, to warme his souldiers by, and a quantitie of oile to be distributed amongst them, that therwith annointing themselves, they might make their sinewes more supple and nimble, and harden their pores against the bitter blasts of colde winde, which then blewe, and nipping piercing of the ayre. The Graecians retreate from Babilon into their countrie, is renowmed, by reason of the many difficulties and encombrances they encountred withall, and were to surmount: whereof this was one, that in the mountaines of Armenia, being surprised and encircled with so hor­rible and great quantitie of snow, that they lost both the knowledge of the countrie, aud the wayes: wherewith they were so straitely beset, that they continued a day and a night without eating or drinking; and most of their horses and cattell died: of their men a great number also deceased; many with the glittring and whitenesse of the snow, were strucken blinde: diverse through the extremitie were lamed, and their limbes shrunken vp, many starke stiffe, and frozen with colde, although their senses were yet whole. Alexander saw a nation, where in winter they burie their fruite-bearing trees vnder the ground, to defend them from the frost: a thing also vsed amongst some of our neighbours. Touching the sub­ject of apparell: the King of Mexico was wont to change and shift his clothes foure times a day, and never wore them againe, employing his leavings and cast-sutes for his continu­all liberalities and rewardes; as also neither pot nor dish, nor any implement of his kitchin or table were twice brought before him.

The six and thirtieth Chapter.

IAm not possessed with this common errour, to judge of others according to what I am my selfe. I am easie to beleeve things differing from my selfe. Though I be engaged to one forme, I do not tie the world vnto it, as every man doth? And I beleeve and conceive a thousand maners of life, contrary to the common sorte: I more easily admit and receive dif­ference [Page 114] then resemblance in vs. I discharge as much as a man will, another being of my con­ditions and principles, and simply consider of it in my selfe, without relation, framing it vpon it's owne modell. Though my selfe be not continent, yet do I sincerely commend and allow the continencie of the Capuchines, and Theatines, and highly praise their course of life. I doe by imagination, insinuate my selfe into their place: and by how much more they be o­ther then my selfe, so much the more doe I loue and honour them. I would gladly haue every man iudged apart, and not be drawne my selfe in consequence by others examples. My weakenesse doth no way alter the opinions I should have of the force and vigor of those that deserve it. Sunt, qui nihil suadent, quàm quod se imitari posse confidunt. There bee Cic. Orat. ad Br. such as advise to nothing, but what they trust themselves can imitate. Crawling on the face of the earth, I cease not to marke, even into the clouds, the inimitable height of some heroicke mindes. It is much for me to have a formall and prescript iudgement, if the effects be not so, and at least to maintaine the chiefe part exempted from corruption. It is something to have a good minde, when my forces faile me. The age we live in (at least our climate) is so dull and leaden, that not onely the execution, but the very imagination of vertue is farre to seeke, and seemes to be no other thing than a Colledge supposition, and a gibrish-word.

Quam vereri d [...]berent, etiam si percipere non possent. Which yet they should reverence, though they could not reach vnto. It is an eare-ring or pendent to hang in a cabinet, or at the tongues end, as well as at an eare for an ornament. There are no more vertuous actions knowne; those that beare a shew of vertue, have no essence of it: for profit, glorie, custome, feare, and other like strange causes direct vs to produce them. Iustice, valour, integritie, which we then exercise, may by others consideration, and by the countenance they publikely beare, be ter­med so: but with the true workeman, it is no vertue at all. There is another end proposed; another efficient cause. Vertue alloweth of nothing, but what is done by her, and for hir alone. In that great battell at Potidaea which the Graecians vnder Pausanias gained of Mar­donius and the Persians, the victors following their custome, comming to share the glorie and prise of the victory betweene them, ascribed the pre-excellencie of valor in that conflict to the Spartane nation. The Spartanes imparciall judges of vertue, when they came to de­cide, to what particular man of their countrie, the honor to have done best in that day, shuld of right belong; they found that Aristodemus had most couragiously engaged and hazarded himselfe: Yet gave him not the prise of honour of it, because his vertue had beene thereunto incited, by an earnest desire to purge himselfe from the reproch and infamie, which hee had incurred in the action at Thermopyles, and from all daring ambition to die couragi­ouslie, thereby to warrant his former imputation. Our judgements are yet sicke, and follow the depravations of our customes. I see the greatest part of our spirits to affect wit, and to shew themselves ingenious, by obscuring and detracting from the glorie of famous and generall ancient actions, giving them some base and malicious interpretation, fondly and enviously charging them with vaine causes, and frivolous occasions. A subtill invention no doubt. Let any man present me, with the most excellent and blamelesse action, and I will oppose it with fiftie vicious and bad intentions, all which shall carrie a face of likeli-hood. God knowes (to him that will extend them) what diversitie of images our internall will doth suffer: They doe not so maliciously as grosely and rudely endeuour to be ingenious with all their railing and detraction. The same paine a man taketh to detract from these noble & famous names, and the verie same libertie, would I as willingly take to lend them my shoul­ders to extoll and magnifie them. I would endevour to charge these rare and choise-figures, selected by the consent of wise men, for the worlds example, as much, and as high, as my in­vention would give me leaue with honour, in a plausible interpretation, and favourable cir­cumstance. And a man must thinke, that the diligent labours of our invention, are farre be­yond their merit. It is the part of honest minded men to pourtray vertue, as faire as possible faire may be. A thing which would no whit be mis-seeming or vndecent, if passion should transport vs to the favour and pursuite of so sacred formes, what these doe contrarie, they either doe it through malice or knaverie, with purpose to reduce and sute their beliefe to [Page 115] their capacitie, where of I lately spake: or rather as I thinke, because their sight is not of suf­ficient power or clearnes, nor addressed to conceive or apprehend the farre-shining bright­nes of vertue in naturall and genuine purity: As Plutarke saith, that in his time, some im­puted the cause of Cato the yongers death to the feare he had conceived of Cesar: whereat he hath some reason to be moved: by which a man may iudge, how much more he would have beene offended with those that have ascribed the same vnto ambition. Oh foolish people! Hee would no doubt have performed a faire action, so generous and so iust, rather with ignominie, then for glorie. This man was truely a patterne, whom nature chose to shew how farre humane vertue may reach, and mans constancie attaine-vnto. But my purpose is not here to treate this rich argument: I will onely confront together the sayings of five Latin Poets vpon Catoes commendacions, and for the interest of Cato, and by inci­dencie for theirs also. Now ought a gentleman well-bred, in respect of others, finde the two former somewhat languishing. The third more vigorous, but suppressed by the extrava­gancie of force. He will iudge there were yet place for one or two degrees of invention, to reach vnto the fourth, in consideration of which he will through admiration ioyne handes for the last (yet first in some degree and space, but which space he will sweare can by no hu­mane spirit be filled-vp) he wil be much amazed, he will be much amated. Loe here are won­ders, we haue more Poets than iudges and interpreters of poesie. It is an easier matter to frame it; then to knowe-it: Being base and humble, it may be iudged by the precepts and art of it: But the good & loftie, the supreme & divine, is beyond rules, and aboue reason. Who­soeuer discerneth hir beauty, with a constant, quicke-seeing, and setled looke, he can no more see and comprehend the same then the splendor of a lightning flash. It hath no community with our iudgement; but ransacketh and ravisheth the same. The furie which prickes and moves him that can penetrate hir, doth also stricke and wound a third man, if he heare-it ei­ther handled or recited, as the Adamant stone drawes, not only a needle, but infuseth some of hir faculty in the same to drawe others: And it is more apparently seene in theaters, that the sacred inspiration of the Muses, having first stirred vp the Poet with a kinde of agitation vnto choler, vnto griefe, vnto hatred, yea and beyond him self, whether and how soever they please, doth also by the Poet strike & enter into the Actor, and consequently by the Actor, a whole auditorie or multitude. It is the ligament of our sences depending one of another. Even from my infancie, Poesie hath had the vertue to transpierce and transport me. But that lively and feeling-mouing that is naturally in me, hath diversly beene handled, by the diversitie of formes, not so much higher or lower (for they were ever the highest in every kind) as different in colour. First a blithe and ingenious fluidity, then a quaint-witie, and lof­tie conceit. To conclude, a ripe and constant force. Ovid, Lucan, and Virgill, will better de­clare it. But here our Gallants are in their full cariere.

Saith one.

Saith another: And the third speaking of the civill warres betweene Caesar and Pompey.

And the fourth vpon Caesars commendations:

And the hartes-master, after he hath enstalled the names of the greatest Romanes in his picture, endeth thus:

The seven and thirtieth Chapter.

WHen we reade in Histories, that Antigonus was highly displeased with his sonne, at Plut. vit. Pyrth f. what time he presented vnto him the head of King Pirrhus his enemie, slaine but a little before in fight against him; which he no sooner saw, but hee burst foorth a weeping. And that Renate Duke of Loraine, wept for the death of Charles Duke of Burgundie, whom hee had eftsoones discomfired, and was as an assistant mourner at his funeralles: And that in the battel of Auroy (which the Earle of Montfort had gained against the faction of Charles de Blois, for the Dutchie of Britanie) the victorious conqueror met with the bo­die of his enemie deceased, mourned very grievously for him; a man must not suddenly ex­claime.

When Caesar was presented with Pompeis head, Histories report that he turn'd his looks aside, as from a ghastly and vnpleasing spectacle. There hath beene so long a corresponden­cie and societie in the managing of publike affaires, mutually betweene them, such a commu­nitie of fortunes, so many reciprocall offices and bondes of alliance, that a man cannot think his countenance to have beene forced, false, and w [...]ly, as this other supposeth.

For certainly, howbeit the greatest number of our actions bee but masked and painted over with dissimulation, and that it may sometimes be true,

Yet must a man consider, by judging of his accidents, how our mindes are often agitated by divers passions; For (as they say) there is a certaine assembly of divers humors in our bo­dies, whereof she is soveraigne mistris, who most ordinarily, according to our complexions doth command vs: so in our minde, although it containe severall motions that agitate the same, yet must one chiefly be predominant. But it is not with so full an advantage, but for the volubilitie and supplenesse of our minde, the weakest may by occasion reobtaine the place a­gaine, and when their turne commeth, make a new charge, whence we see, not onely chil­dren, who simplie and naturally follow nature, often to weepe and laugh at one selfe-same thing; but none of vs all can vaunt himselfe, what wished for, or pleasant voyage soever he vndertake, but that taking leave of his family and friends, he shall feele a chilling and pan­ting of the heart, and if he shed not teares, at least he puts his foote in the stirrop with a sad and heavie cheere. And what gentle flame soever doth warme the heart of yong virgines, yet are they hardly drawne to leave and forgo their mothers, to betake them to their husbands: whatsoever this good fellow say;

So is it not strange to mourne for him dead, whom a man by no meanes would have alive againe. When I chide my boy, I doe it with the best heart I have: They are true and not fained imprecations: but that fit past over, let him have need of me, I will gladly doe him all the good I can, and by and by I turne ouer another leafe. If I chance to call one knaue or asse, my purpose is not, for ever to enfeoffe him with those nick-names; nor doe I thinke to say, tong thou liest, if immediately after I call him an honest man. No qualitie doth embrace vs purely and vniversally. If it were not the countenance of a foole to speake alone, or to him selfe, there would scarse be day, or houre, wherein some-body should not heare me mutter and grumble to my selfe, and against my selfe. A ( ) in the fooles teeth, yet do not I thinke it to be my definition. He that seeth me sometimes to cast a frowning looke vpon my wife, or sometimes a loving countenance, and thinkes, that either of them is but fained, he is a foole. Nero taking leave of his mother, whom hee sent to be drowned, felt notwithstanding the emotion of that motherly farewell, and at one instant was strucken with horror & pitie. It is said, that the Sunnes-light, is not of one continued piece, but that it so vncessantly, and with­out intermission doth cast so thicke new raies, one in the necke of another vpon vs, that wee cannot perceive the space betweene them. Lucr. l 5. 281.

So doth our minde cast her points diversly and imperceptibly. Artabanus surprised Xerxes his nephew, and chid him for the sudden changing of his countenance. He was to consider the vnmeasurable greatnesse of his forces at the passage of Hellespont, for the enterprise of Greece. First he was suddenly assailed by an excessive joy, to see so many thousands of men at his service, and witnessed the same by the alacritie and cheerefulnes of his countenance: And immediately at that very moment, his thoughts suggesting, how so many lives were to be consumed, and should come to nothing (at the furthest, within one age) he gan to frowne his browes, and grew so pensive, that he wept. We have with a resolute and inexorable minde pursued the revenge of an injurie, and felt a singular content for the victorie; yet vpon better advice doe we weepe: it is not that we weepe for: the thing is as it was, there is nothing changed: But that our minde beholdes the thing with another eie, and vnder an other shape it presents it selfe vnto vs. For every thing hath divers faces, sundry byases, and severall Iustres. Aliance, kinred, old acquaintances, and long friendship seize on our imagination, and at that instant, passionate the same according to their qualitie; but the turne or change of it, is so violent, that it escapes-vs

And therefore, intending to continue one body of all this pursuite, we deceive our selves. When Timoleon weepeth the murther he hath perpetrated with so mature and generous a determination, he weepeth not for the liberty restored to his countrie, nor the tyrant, but he weepeth for his brother. One part of his dutie is acted, let vs permit him to play the o­ther.

The eight and thirtieth Chapter.

LEt vs leave apart this outworne comparison, betweene a solitarie and an active life: And touching that goodly saying vnder which ambition and avarice shroud them­selves; that we are not borne for our particular, but for the publike good: Let vs boldly refer our selves to those that are engaged; and let them beate their conscience, if on the con­trarie, the states, the charges, and this trash of the world, are not rather sought and sued for to draw a private commoditie from the publike. The bad and indirect meanes where­through in our age men canvase and toyle to attaine the same, do manifestly declare the end thereof to be of no great consequence. Let vs answer ambition, that her-selfe gives vs the taste of solitarinesse. For what doth she shunne so much as company? What seeketh shee more then elbow-roome? There is no place, but there are meanes and waies to doe well or ill▪ Neverthelesse if the saying of Bias be true; That the woorst part is the greatest: Or that which Ecclesiastes saith, That of a thousand there is not one good.

Contagion is very dangerous in a throng. A man must imitate the vicious, or hate them: both are dangerous: for to resemble them is perilous, because they are many, and to hate ma­ny is hazardous, because they are dissemblable, and Marchants that travell by sea, have rea­son to take heede, that those which goe in the same ship, be not dissolute, blasphemers, and wicked, iudging such company vnfortunate. Therefore Bias sayd plesantly to those, that together with him passt the danger of a great storme, & called to the Gods, for helpe: Peace my maisters, lest they should heare, that you are here with me. And of a more militarie example, Albuberque Viecroy in India for Emanuel King of Portugall, in an extreame danger of a sea­tempest, tooke a yong boy vpon his shoulders, for this only end, that in the common pe­rill his innocencie might be his warrant, and recommending to Gods favour, to set him on shore: yet may a wise man live every where contented, yea and alone, in the throng of a Pallace: but if he may chuse, he will (saith he) Avoide the sight of it. If neede require, he will endure the first: but if he may have his choise, he will chuse the latter. He thinks he hath not sufficiently rid himselfe from vices, if he must also contest with other mens faults. Charondas punished those for wicked, that were convicted to have frequented [...]ewd com­panies. There is nothing so dis-sociable and sociable as man the one for his vice the other for his nature, And I think Antisthenes did not satisfie him that vpbraided him with his conversation with the wicked, saying, That Physitians liue amon [...]st the sicke. Who if they steade sicke-mens healths, they empaire their owne, by the infection, continuall visiting, touching and frequenting of diseases. Now (as I suppose) the end is both one, thereby to live more at leasure, and better at ease. But man doth not alwaies seeke the best way to come vnto it, who often supposeth to have quit affaires, when he hath but changed them. There is not much lesse vexation in the governement of a private family, than in the managing of an entire state: wheresoever the minde is busied, there it is al. And though domestical occupati­ons be lesse important, they are as importunate. Moreover, though we have freed our selves from the court, and from the market, we are not free from the principal torments of our life.

Shift we, or change we places never so often, ambition, avarice, irresolution, feare and con­cupiscences never leave vs.

[Page 119] ‘Et past equitem sedet atra cura. Ho. l. 3. od. 1. 39’

They often follow vs, even into immured cloisters, and into schooles of Philosophie; nor doe hollow rocks, nor wearing of haire-shirts, nor continuall fastings rid vs from them.

It was tolde Socrates, that one was no whit amended by his travell: I beleeve it well (saide he) for he carried himselfe with him.

If a man doe not first discharge both himselfe and his minde from the burthen that pres­seth her, remooving from place to place will stirre and presse her the more; as in a ship, wares well stowed, and closely piled, take vp least roome, you doe a sicke-man more hurt than good, to make him change place, you settle an evill in remooving the same; as stakes or poles, the more they are stirred and shaken, the faster they sticke, and sinke deeper into the ground. Therefore is it not enough, for a man to have sequestred himselfe from the con­course of people: it is not sufficient to shift place, a man must also severe himselfe from the popular conditions, that are in vs. A man must sequester and recover himselfe from himselfe.

We carry our fetters with vs: is it not an absolute libertie; we still cast backe our lookes to­wards that we have left behinde: our minde doth still runne on it; our fansie is full of it.

Our evill is rooted in our mide: and it cannot scape from it selfe.

Therefore must it be reduced and brought into it selfe: It is the true solitarinesse, and which may be enjoyed even in the frequencie of peopled Cities, and Kings courts: but it is more commodiously enjoied apart. Now sithence wee vndertake to live solitarie, and without companie, let vs cause our contentment to depend of our selves: Let vs shake off all bondes that tie vs vnto others: Gaine we that victorie over vs, that in good earnest we may live solitarie, and therein live at our ease. Stilphon having escaped the combustion of his Citie, wherein he had lost, both wife, and children, and all his goods; Demetrius Polsorce­tes seeing him in so great a ruine of his Countrie, with an vnaffrighted countenance, de­maunded [Page 120] of him, whether he had received any losse; He answered, Not and that (thanks given to God) he had lost nothing of his owne. It is that, which Antisthenes the Philosopher said verie pleasantly, That man ought to provide himselfe with munitions, that might float vpon the water, and by swimming escape the danger of shipwarcke with him. Verily, a man of vnderstanding hath lost nothing, if he yet have himselfe. When the Citie of Nola was over-run by the Barbarians, Pau­linus Bishop thereof, having lost all he had there, and being their prisoner, prayed thus vnto God: Oh Lord deliver me from feeling of this losse: for thou knowest as yet they have toucht nothing that is mine. The riches that made him rich, and the goods which made him good, were yet absolutely whole. Behold what it is to chuse treasures well, that may be freed from injurie; and to hide them in a place, where no man may enter, and which can not be betraied but by our selves. A man that is able, may have wives, children, goods, and chiefly health, but not so tie himselfe vnto them, that his felicitie depend on them. We should reserve a store-house for our selves, what need soever chance; altogether ours, and wholy free, where­in we may hoard-vp, and establish our true libertie, and principall retreit and solita [...]nesse, wherein we must go alone to our selves, take out ordinarie entertainment, and so privatelie, that no acquaintance or communication of any strange thing may therein [...]ind place: there to discourse, to mediate and laugh, as, without wife, without children, and goods, without traine, or seruants; that if by any occasion they be lost, it seeme not strange to vs to passe it over; we have a mind moving and turning in it selfe; it may keep it selfe companie; it hath wherewith to offend and defend, wherewith to receive, & wherewith to give. Let vs not feare that we shal faint and droop through tedious and mind-tyring idlenesse in this solitarinesse.

Vertue is contented with it selfe, without discipline, without words, & without effects. In our accustomed actions, of a thousand there is not one found that regards vs: he whom thou seest so furiously, and as it were besides himselfe, to clamber or crawle vp the citie wals, or breach, as a point-blank to a whole volie of shot, and another all wounded & skarred, crazed and faint, & wel-nie hunger-starven, resolved rather to die, then to open his enemie the gate, and give him entrance; doest thou think he is there for himselfe? No verilie, It is peradven­ture for such a one, whom neither he, nor so many of his fellowes ever saw, and who happly takes no care at all for them; but is there-whilst wallowing vp to the eares in sensualitie, slouth, and all maner of carnall delights. This man whom about mid-night, when others take their rest, thou seest come out of his studie meagre-looking, with eyes-trilling, flegmatike, squa­lide, and spauling, doest thou thinke, that plodding on his books he doth seek how he shall become an honester man; or more wise, or more content? There is no such matter. He will either die in his pursuite, or teach posteritie the measure of Plautus verses, and the true Or­thographie of a Latine word. Who doth not willingly chop and counterchange his health, his ease, yea, and his life for glorie, and for reputation? The most vnprofitable, vaine, and counterfet coine, that is in vse with vs. Our death is not sufficient to make vs afraid, let vs also charge our selves with that of our wives, of our children, and of our friends, and people. Our owne affaires doe not sufficientlie trouble and vexe vs; Let vs also drudge, toile, vex, and torment our selves with our neighbours and friends matters.

Solitarinesse mee seemeth hath more apparance and reason in those which have given their most active and flourishing age vnto the world, in imitation of Thales. We have lived long enough for others, live we the remainder of our life vnto our selves: let vs bring home our cogitations and inventions vnto our selves, and vnto our ease. It is no easie matter to make a safe retreit: it doth over-much trouble vs with joyning other enterprises vnto-it. Since God gives vs leasure to dispose of our dislodging. Let-vs prepare our selves vnto-it, packe wee vp our baggage. Let vs betimes bid our companie farewell. Shake we off these violent hold-fasts, which else-where engage vs, and estrange vs from our selves. These so strong bonds must be vntied, and a man may est-soones love this or that, but wed nothing [Page 121] but himselfe, That is to say, let the rest be our owne: yet not so combined and glued toge­ther, that it may not be sundred, without fleaing-vs, and therewithall, pull away some piece of our owne. The greatest thing of the world, is for a man to know how to be his owne. It is high time to shake-off societie, since we can bring nothing to it. And he that cannot lend, let him take heed of borrowing. Our forces faile-vs: retire we them, and shut them vp into our selves. He that can suppresse and confound in himselfe the offices of so many amities, and of the companie, let him doe it. In this fall, which makes vs, inutile, irksome, and impor­tunate to others; let him take heed he be not importunate, irksome, and vnprofitable to himselfe. Let him flatter, court and cherish himselfe, and above all, let him governe him­selfe, respecting his reason, and fearing his conscience, so that he may not without shame stumble or trip in their presence. Rarum est enim, vt satis se quis (que) vereatur. For it is a rare matter, that every man sufficiently should stand in awe and reuerence of himselfe. Socrates saith, That yong men ought to be instructed, and men exercised in well doing; and old men withdraw themselves from all civill and militarie negotiations, living at their owne discretion, without obligation to any certaine office. There are some complexions, more proper for these precepts of retreit than others. Those which have a tender and demisse apprehension, a squeamish affection, a deli­cate will, and which can not easilie subject or imploy it selfe (of which both by naturall con­dition and propense discourse, I am one) will better apply themselves vnto this counsell▪ then active minds, and busie spirits; which embrace all, every where engage, and in all things pas­sionate themselves; that offer, that present, and yeeld themselves to all occasions. A man must make vse of all these accidentall commodities, and which are without vs, so long as they be pleasing to vs; but not make them our principall foundation: It is not so, nor reason, nor nature permit-it. Why should we against their lawes subject our contentment to the power of others? Moreover, to anticipate the accidents of fortune; for a man to deprive himselfe of the commodities he hath in possession, as many have done for devotion, and some Philosophers by discourse; to serve themselves, to lie vpon the hard ground, to pull out their owne eyes, to cast their riches into the Sea, to seek for paine and smart (some by tor­menting this life, for the happinesse of another; othersome placing themselves on the lowest step, thereby to warrant themselves from a new fall) is the action of an excessive vertue. Let stern [...]r and more vigorous complexions make their lurking glorious and exemplar.

There is worke enough for me to doe without going so far. It sufficeth me vnder fortunes favour, to prepare my selfe for her disfavour; and being at ease, as [...]ar as imagination may attaine vnto, to represent the evill to come vnto my selfe: Even as we enure our selves to Tilts and Tourneyes, and counterfeit warre in time of peace. I esteeme not Arcesilaus the Philosopher lesse reformed, because I know him to have vsed houshold implements of gold and silver, according as the condition of his fortune gave him leave, I rather value him the more, then if he had not done-it, forsomuch as he both moderately and liberally made vse of them. I know vnto what limits naturall necessitie goeth; and I consider the poore almes-man begging at my dore, to be often more plumb-checkt, in better health and liking then I am: Then doe I enter into his estate, and assay to frame and sute my mind vnto his byase. And so over-running other examples, albeit I imagine death, povertie, con­tempt, and sicknesse to be at my heeles, I easilie resolve my selfe, not to apprehend any feare of that, which one of lesse worth then my selfe doth tolerate and vndergoe with such patience: And I can not beleeve, that the basenesse or shallownesse of vnderstanding, can doe more then vigor and far-seeing, or that the effects and reason of discretion, can not reach to the effects of custome and vs [...]. And knowing what slender hold-fast these acces­sorie [Page 122] commodities have, I omit not in full jovyssance of them, humbly to beseech God of his mercie (as a soveraigne request) to make me contented with my selfe, and with the goods proceeding from me. I see some gallantly-disposed yong men, who notwithstanding their faire-seeming shew, have many boxes-full of pils in their coffers at home, to take when the rhume shall assaile them; which so much the lesse they feare, when they thinke the remedie to be at hand. So must a man doe: as also if he feel himselfe subject to some greater infir­mitie, to store himselfe with medicaments that may asswage, supple, and stupifie the part grieved. The occupation a man should chuse for such a life, must neither be painfull nor tedious, otherwise, in vaine should we accompt to have sought our abiding there, which de­pends from the particular taste of every man. Mine doth no way accommodate it selfe to husbandrie. Those that love it, must with moderation applie themselves vnto it.

Husbandrie is otherwise a servile office, as Salust termeth it: It hath more excusable parts, as the care of gardening, which Xenophon ascribeth to Cyrus: A meane or mediocritie may be found, betweene this base and vile carking care, extended and full of toiling labor, which we see in men that wholie plunge themselves therein, and that profound and extreame retch­lesnesse to let all things go at six and seaven, which is seen in others.

But let-vs heare the counsell, which Plinie the yonger giveth to his friend Cornelius Rusus, touching this point of Solitarinesse: I perswade thee in this full-gorged and fat retreit, wherein thou art, to remit this base and abiect care of husbandrie vnto thy servants, and give thy selfe to the studie of letters, whence thou maist gather something, that may altogether be thine owne. He meaneth reputation: like vnto Ciceroes humor, who saith, That he will imploy his solitarinesse and residence from publike affaires, to purchase vnto himselfe by his writings an immortall life.

It seemeth to be reason, when a man speaketh to withdraw himselfe from the world, that one should looke beyond him. These do-it but by halfes. Indeed they set their match a­gainst the time they shall be no more: but pretend to reap the fruit of their dessignes, when they shall be absent from the world, by a ridiculous contradiction. The imagination of those, who through devotion seeke solitarinesse, filling their minds with the certaintie of heavenly promises, in the other life, is much more soundly consorted. They propose God as an object infinite in goodnesse, and incomprehensible in power, vnto themselves. The soule hath therein, in all free libertie, wherewith to glut her-selfe. Afflictions and sorrowes, redound to their profit, being imployed for the purchase and attaining of health, and eter­nall gladnesse. Death, according to ones wish, is a passage to so perfect an estate. The sharpnesse of their rules, is presently made smooth and easie by custome; and carnall con­cupiscences, rejected, abated, and [...]ulled a sleep by refusing them; for nothing entertaineth them but vse and exercise. This onely end of another life, blessedly immortall, doth rightly me­rite we should abandon the pleasures and commodities of this our life. And he that can enlighten his soule with the flame of a lively faith and hope, really and constantly, in his solitarinesse, [...]th build vnto himselfe a voluptuous and delicious life, far surmounting all other lives. Therefore doth neither the end nor middle of this counsell please me. We are ever falling into a relaps, from an ague to a burning feaver. This plodding occupation of bookes, is as painfull as any other, and as great an enemie vnto health, which ought principally to be considered. And a man should not suffer himselfe to be inveagled by the pleasure he takes in them: It is the same pleasure, that looseth the thriving husband-man, the greedy-covetous, the sinning-vo­luptuous, and the puft-vp ambitious. The wisest men teach vs sufficiently to beware and thield-vs from the treasons of our appetites, and to discerne true and perfect pleasures, from [Page 123] delights blended and entermingled with more paine. For, most pleasures, (say they) tickle, fawne vpon, and embrace-vs, with purpose to strangle-vs, as did the theeves whom the Aegyptians termed Phili [...]as: And if the head-ach would seize vpon vs before drunkennesse, we would then beware of too much drinking: but sensualitie the better to entrap-vs, mar­cheth before, and hideth her tracke from-vs. Bookes are delightfull; but if by continuall frequenting them, we in the end loose both health and cheerefulnesse (our best parts (let vs leave them. I am one of those who thinke their fruit can no way countervaile this losse. As men that have long time selt themselves enfeebled through some indisposition, doe in the end yeeld to the mercie of Physicke, and by arte have certaine rules of life prescribed them, which they will not transgresse: So he that with-drawes himselfe, as distasted and over-tired with the common life, ought likewise to frame and prescribe this vnto the rules of reason; direct and range the same by premeditation, and discourse. He must bid all man­ner of travell farewell, what shew soever it beare; and in generall shun all passions that any way empeach the tranquilitie of mind and bodie, and follow the course best agreeing with his humour.

A man must give to thriving-husbandrie, to laborious studie, to toilesome hunting, and to every other exercise, the vtmost bounds of pleasure; and beware he engage himselfe no further, if once paine begin to intermeddle it selfe with hir; we should reserve businesse and negotiations, onely for so much as is behoofefull to keep vs in breath, and to warrant vs from the inconveniences which the other extremitie of a base, faint-harted idlenesse drawes after it. There are certaine barren and thornie sciences, which for the most part are forged for the multitude: they should be left for those, who are for the service of the world. As for my selfe, I love no books, but such as are pleasant, and easie, and which tickle me, or such as comfort and counsell me, to direct my life and death.

The wiser sort of men, having a strong and vigorous mind may frame vnto themselves an altogether spirituall life. But mine being common, I must help to vphold my selfe by corporall commodities: And age having estsoones dispoiled me of those that were most sutable to my fantasie. I instruct and sharpen my appetite to those remaining, most sortable this other season. We must tooth-and naile retaine the vse of this lives pleasures, which our yeares snatch from vs, one after another:

Now concerning the end of glorie, which Plinie, and Cicero propose vnto vs, it is far from my discourse: The most opposit humour to solitarie retiring, is ambition. Glorie and rest, are things, that cannot squat in one same forme: as far as I see, these have nought but their armes and legs out of the throng, their mind and intent is further and more engaged in them then ever it was.

They have gone-backe that they might leap the better, and with a stronger motion make a nimbler offer amidst the multitude. Will you see how they shoot-short by a cornes breadth? let vs but counterpoise the advise of two Philosophers, and of two most different sects: The one writing to Idomeneus, the other to Lucilius their friends, to divert them from the managing of affaires and greatnesse, vnto a solitarie kind of life. You have (say they) lived hither to swimming and floating adrift, come and die in the haven; you have given the past of your life [...]o light, give the remainder vnto darknesse. It is impossible to give-over occupations, if you doe [Page 124] not also give-over the fruits of them: Therefore cleare your selfe from all care and glorie. There is great danger, lest the glittering of your fore-passed actions should over-much dazle you, yea, and follow you even to your den. Together with other concupiscences, shake off that which commeth from the approbation of others. And touching your knowledge and sufficiencie, take you no care of them, they will loose no whit of their effect; if your selfe be any thing the better for them. Remem­ber but him, who being demanded, to what purpose he toyled so much about an Arte, which could by no meanes come to the knowledge of many. Few are enow for me; one will sufi [...]ce, yea, lesse than one will content me, answered he. He said true: you and another are a sufficient theatre one for another; or you to your selfe alone. Let the people be one vnto you, and one [...]e all the people to you: It is a base ambition to go about to draw glorie from ones idlenesse, and from ones lurking-hole. A man must doe as some wilde beasts, which at the entrance of their caves, will have no manner of footing seene. You must no longer seeke, what the world saith of you, but how you must speake vnto your-selfe: withdraw your selfe into your selfe; but first prepare yourselfe to receive your selfe: it were follie to trust to your selfe, if you cannot governe your selfe. A man may as well faile in solitarinesse, as in companie, there are waies for-it, vntill such time as you have framed your selfe such, ‘that you dare not halt before yourselfe, and that you shall be ashamed of, and beare a kind of respect vnto your selfe, Obver­sentur Cic. Tusc. qu. lib. 2. species honestae animo: Let honest Ideaes still represent themselves before your mind: Ever present Cato,’ Phocion, and Aristides vnto your imagination, in whose presence even fooles Sen [...]c. epist. 11. would hide their faults, and establish them as controulers of all your intentions. If they be disordered and vntuned, their reverence will order and tune them againe: they will containe you in a way, to be contented with your selfe; to borrow nothing but from your selfe, to set­tle and stay your mind in assured and limited cogitations, wherein it may best please it selfe, and having gotten knowledge of true felicities, which according to the measure a man vn­derstands them, he shall accordingly injoy, and with them rest satisfied, without wishing a further continuance, either of life or name. Loe heere the counsell of truly-pure, and purely-true philosophie, not of a vaine-glorious, boasting, and prating philosophie, as is that of the two first.

The nine and thirtieth Chapter.

ONe word more in comparison of these two. There are gathered out of Ciceroes writing [...] and from Plinies, (in mine opinion litle agreeing with his vnckle) infinit testimonies of a nature beyond measure ambitious. Amongst others, that they openly solicite the Histo­rians of their times, not to forget them in their writings: and fortune, as it were in spight▪ hath made the vanitie of their request to continue even to our daies, and long since the histories were lost. But this exceedeth all hearts-basenesse in persons of that s [...]ampe, to have gone about to draw some principall glorie from prating and speaking, even to imploy their pri­vate Epistles written to their friends; in such sort, as some missing the opportunitie to be sent, they notwithstanding cause them to be published, with this worthie excuse, that they would not loose their travell and lucubrations. Is it not a seemly thing in two Romane Con­suls, chiefe magistrates of the common-wealth, Empresse of the world, to spend their time in wittily devising, and closely hudling-vp of a quaint missive or wittie epistle, therby to attaine the reputation, that they perfectly vnderstand their mother-tongue? What could a seelie School-master, who gets his living by such trash, do worse? If the acts of Xenophon, or of Cae­sar had not by much exceeded their eloquence, I can not beleeve, they would ever have written them. They have endevored to recommend vnto posteritie, not their sayings, but their doings. And if the perfection of well-speaking might bring any glorie sutable vnto a great personage, Scipio and Le [...]ius would never have resigned the honor of their Comedies, and the elegancies, and smooth-sportfull conceits of the Latin tongue, vnto an Affrican ser­vant: For, to prove this labor to be theirs, the exquisit eloquence, & excellent invention therof [Page 125] doth sufficiently declare it: and Terence himselfe doth avouch it-: And I could hardly be removed from this opinion. It is a kind of mockerie and iniurie, to raise a man to worth, by qualities mis-seeming his place, and vnfittting his calling, although for some other respects praise-worthie; and also by qualities that ought not to be his principall object. As he that would commend a King to be a cunning Painter, or a skilfull Architect, or an excellent Harquibuzier, or a never missing runner at the Ring. These commendations acquire a man no honour, if they be not presented altogether with those that are proper and convenient vnto him, that is to say, justice, and the skill to governe, and knowledge to direct his people both in peace & warre. In this sort doth Agriculture honour Cyrus, and Eloquence Charle­maine, together with his knowledge in good letters. I have in my time seen some, who by writing did earnestly get both their titles and living, to disavow their aprentissage, mar their pen, and affect the ignorance of so vulgar a qualitie; and which our people holds, to be sel­dome found amongst wise-men, endevouring to be commended for better qualities. De­mosthenes his companions in their ambassage to Philip, praised their Prince to be faire, eloquent, and a good quaffer. Demostenes said, they were commendations rather fitting a woman, an advocate, and a spunge, then a King.

It is not his profession to know, either how to hunt cunningly, or to dance nimbly.

Plutarke saith moreover, That to appeare so absolutely excellent in these lesse-necessarie parts, is to produce a witnesse against himselfe, to have ill spent his houres, and fondly bestowed his studie, which might better have been imployed to more behoofefull and profitable vse. So that Philip King of Macedon, having heard great Alexander his sonne sing at a feast a vie with the best Mu­sitians: Art thou not ashamed (said he vnto him) to sing so well? And to the same Philip, said a Musitian, gainst whom he contended about his Art, God forbid, my Soveraigne, that ever so much hurt should befall you, that you should vnderstand these things better than my selfe. A King ought to be able to ansere, as Ipicrates did the Orator who in his invective vrged him in this manner: And what art thou thou shouldst so brave-it? Art thou a man at Armes? Art thou an Archer? Art thou a Pike-man? I am none of all those, but I am he who commaund all those. And Antisthenes made-it as an argument of little valour in Ism [...]nias, when some commended him to be an excellent Flutist. Well I wot, that when I heare some give them­selves to imitate the phrase of my Essayes, I would rather have them hold their peace: They doe not so much raise the words, as depresse the sense; so much the more sharply, by how much more obliquely. Yet am I deceived if some others take not more hold on the matter; and how well or ill soever, if any writer hath scattered the same, either more materiall, or at least thicker on his paper: That I may collect the more, I doe but huddle vp the arguments or chiefe heads. Let me but adde what followes them, I shal dailie increase this volume. And how many stories have I glanced-at therein, that speake not a word, which whosoever shall vnfold, may from them draw infinite Essayes? Nor they, nor my allegations doe ever serve simply for examples, authoritie, or ornament. I doe not onely respect them for the vse I draw from them. They often (beyond my purpose) produce the seed of a richer subject, and bolder matter, and often collaterally, a more harmonious tune, both for me, that will expresse no more in this place, and for them that shall hit vpon my tune.

But returning to vertue, I find no great choice, betweene him that can speake nothing but evill, Sen. epist. 115. p. and one that can talke nothing but to talke well. Non est ornamentum vir [...]le concinnitas. Finenesse is no great grace for a man. Wise men say, that in respect of knowledge, there is nothing but Philosophie, and in regard of effects, but Vertue; which is generally fit for all degrees, and for all orders. Something there is alike in these two other Philosophers; for they also promise eternitie to [Page 126] the Epistles, they write to their friends. But after another fashion, and to a good purpose, ac­commodating themselves to others vanitie; For they send them word, that if care to make themselves knowen vnto future ages, and respect of renowne, doth yet retaine them in the managing of affaires, and makes them feare solitarinesse, and a retired life, to which they would cal them, that they take no more paines for it: forasmuch as they have sufficient credit with posteritie, by answering them; and were it but by the Epistles they write vnto them, they will make their name as famous, and as farre-knowen, as all their publike actions might doe. Besides this difference, they are notfrivolous, idle, and triviall Epistles, and onely compact and held together with exquisite choise words, hudled-vp and ranged to a just smoothe ca­dence, but stufft and ful of notable sayings, and wise sentences; by which a man doth not only become more eloquent, but more wise, and that teach vs, not to say well, but to doe well. Fie on that eloquence, which leaves vs with a desire of it, and not of things: vnlesse a man will say, that Ciceroes being so exceedingly perfect, doth frame it selfe a body of perfection. I will further allegea storie, which to this purpose we reade of him, to make vs palpably feele his naturall condition. He was to make an Oration in publike, and being vrged b [...]t [...]mes to prepare himselfe for it, Eros one of his servants came to tell him, the Auditorie was defer­red till the morrow next; he was so glad of it, that for so good newes he gave him his libertie. Touching this subject of Epistles, thus much I will say; It is a worke wherin my friends are of opinion I can doe something: And should more willingly have vndertaken to publish my gifts, had I had who to speake vnto. It had beene requisite (as I have had other times) to have had a certaine commerce to draw me on, to encorage me, and to vphold me. For, to go about to catch the winde in a net, as others doe, I cannot; and it is but a dreame. I am a sworne ene­mie to all falsifications. I should have bin more attentive, and more assured, having a friendly and strong direction, than to behold the divers images of a whole multitude: and I am de­ceived, if it had not better succeeded with me. I have naturally a comicall and familiar stile: But after a maner peculiar vnto my selfe, inept to all publike Negotiations, answering my speech, which is altogether close, broken, and particular: I have no skill in ceremonious let­ters, which have no other substance, but a faire contexture of complemental phrases and cur­teous words. I have no taste nor faculty of these tedious offers of ser [...]ice and affection. I be­lieve not so much as is said, and am nothing pleased to say more than I believe. It is farre from that which is vsed now adaies: For, there was never so abject and servile a prostitution of presentations; life, soule, devotion, adoration, servant, slave; all these words are so general­ly vsed, that when they would expresse a more emphaticall intent and respective will, they have no meanes left them to expresse it. I deadly hate to heare a flatterer: which is the cause I naturally affect a pithy, sinnowie, drie, round, and harsh kind of speach; which, of such as have no further acquaintance with me, is judged to encline to disdaine. I honor them most, whom I seeme to regard least: And where my mind marcheth most cheerefully, I often forget the steps of gravitie: And I offer my selfe but saintly and rudely to those whose I am indeed, and present my selfe least, to such as I have most given my selfe. M [...] thinkes they should read it in my heart, and that the expression of my words, wrongeth my conception. To welcome, to take leave, to bid farewell, to give thanks, to salute, to pre­sent my service, and such verball complements of the ceremoniall lawes of our civilitie, I know no man so sottishly-barren of speach, as my selfe. And I was never imployed to in­dite Letters of favour or commendatorie, but he for whom they were, judged them drie, barren, and faint. The Italians are great Printers of Epistles, where of I thinke I have a hun­dred severall Volumes. I deeme those of Hanniball Caro to be the best. If all the paper I have heeretofore scribled for Ladies were extant, at what time my hand was truly transpor­ted by my passion, a man should haply find some page worthy to be communicated vnto idle and fond-doting youth, embabuinized with this furie. I ever write my letters in post­hast, and so rashly-head long, that howbeit I write intolerablie ill, I had rather write with mine owne hand, than imploy another: for I find none that can follow me, and I never copie them over againe. I have accustomed those great persons that know me, to endure blots, blurs, dashes, and botches, in my letters, and a sheete without folding or margine. Those that cost me, either most labour or studie, are they that are least worth. When I once begin to traile them, it is a signe my mind is not vpon them. I commonly begin without project: the first word begets the second. Our moderne letters are more fraught with bor­ders, [Page 127] and prefaces, than with matter, as I had rather write two, then fold and make vp one, which charge I commonly resigne to others: So likewise when the matter is ended, I would willingly give another the charge, to adde these long orations, offers, praiers, and imprecati­ons, which we place at the end of them, and wish hartily, some new fashion would discharge vs of them. As also to superscribe them with a legend of qualities, titles, and callings, where­in, lest I might have tripped, I have often times omitted writing, especially to men of Iu­stice, Lawyers, and Financiers. So many innovations of offices, so difficult a dispensation and ordinance of divers names and titles of honour, which being so dearely bought, can nei­ther be exchanged or forgotten without offence. I likewise find-it gracelesse and idly-fond, to charge the front and inscription of the many bookes and pamphlets, which we daily cause to be imprinted with them.

The fortieth Chapter.

MEn (saith an ancient Greeke sentence) are tormented by the opinions they have of things, and not by things themselves. It were a great conquest for the ease of our miserable hu­mane condition, if any man could establish every where this true proposition. For if evils have no entrance into-vs, but by our judgement, it seemeth that it lieth in our power, either to contemne or turne them to our good. If things yeeld themselves vnto our mercie, why should we not have the fruition of them, or applie them to our advantage? If that which we call evill & torment, be neither torment, nor evill, but that our fancie only gives it that qua­tie, it is in vs to change-it: and having the choice of it, if none compell-vs, we are verie fooles, to bandie for that partie, which is irkesome vnto vs: and to give infirmities, indi­gence and contempt, a sharpe and ill taste, if we may give them a good: And if fortune sim­plie affoord-vs the matter, it lieth in vs to give-it the forme. Now that that which we terme evill, is not so of it selfe, or at least, such as it is, that it depends of vs to give-it another taste, and another countenance (for all comes to one) let vs see whether it can be maintained. If the originall-being of those things we feare, had the credite of it's owne authoritie to lodge it selfe in vs, alike and semblable would it lodge in all: For men be all of one kind, and ex­cept the most or least, they are furnished with like meanes to judge, and instruments to con­ceive. But the diversitie of opinions, which we have of those things, doth evidently shew, that but by composition they never enter into-vs. Some one peradventure doth lodge them in himselfe, as they are in essence, but a thousand others give them a new being, and a con­trarie. We accompt of death, of povertie, and of sorrow, as of our chiefest parts. Now death, which some of all horrible things call the most horrible, who knowes not, how others call it, the onely haven of this lives-torments? the soveraigne good of nature? the onely sta [...]e of our libertie? and the readie and common receit of our evils? And as some doe, fearefully-trembling, and senslesly-affrighted, expect her comming, others endure it more easilie then life: And one complaineth of her facilitie;

But let vs leave these glorious minds: Theodorus answered Lysimachus, who threatned to kill him: Thou shalt doe a great exploit to come to the strength of a Cantharides. The greatest number of Philosophers are found to have either by designe prevented, or hastned and fur­thered their deaths. How many popular persons are seen brought vnto death, and not to a simple death, but entermixt with shame, & sometimes with grievous torments, to embrace it with such an vndaunted assurance; some through stubborne wilfulnesse, other-some through a naturall simplicitie, in whom is nothing seene changed from their ordinarie condition; set­ling [Page 128] their domesticall affaires, recommending themselves vnto their friends, preaching, sing­ing, and entertaining the people: yea, and sometimes vttering words of [...]esting and laughter, and drinking to their acquaintance, as well as Socrates? One who was ledde to the gallowes, desired it might not be thorow such a street, for feare a Merchant should set a Ser [...]ant on his backe, for an old debt. Another wished the hang-man not to touch his throat, lest hee should make him swowne with laughing, because hee was so ticklish. Another answered his confessour, who promised him he should suppe that night with our Saviour in heaven, Goe thither your selfe to supper, for I vse to fast a nights. Another vpon the Gibbet calling for drinke, and the hang-man drinking first, said, hee would not drinke after him, for feare hee should take the poxe of him. Everie man hath heard the tale of the Piccard, who being vp­on the ladder ready to be throwen downe, there was a wench presented vnto him, with this offer (as in some cases our law doth sometimes tolerate) that if hee would marry her, his life should be saued, who after he had a while beheld her, & perceving that she halted, said hastily, Away, away, good bang-man, make an end of thy busines, she limps. The like is reported of a man in Denmarke, who being adiudged to haue his head cut off, and being vpon the scaffold, had the like condition offered him, but refused it, because the wench offered him was jaw-falne, long che [...]kt, and sharpe-nosed. A yoong ladde at Tholous, being accused of here [...]ie, in all points touching his beleefe, referred himselfe wholly to his Masters faith, (a yong scholar that was in prison with him) and rather chose to die, than hee would be perswaded his Master could erre. We reade of those of the Towne of Arras, at what time king Lewis the eleventh tooke it, that amongst the common people many were found, who rather than they would say, God save the King, suffered themselves to be hanged. And of those base-minded jesters or buf­fons, some have bin seene, that even at the point of death, would never leave their jesting and scoffing. He whom the heads-man threw off from the Gallowes, cried out, Rowe the Gally, which was his ordinary by-word. Another, who being at his last gaspe, his friends had laid him vpon a pallet alongest the fire-side, there to breathe his last, the Physitian deman­ding where his griefe pained him? Answered, betweene the bench and the fire: And the Priest to give him the last vnction, seeking for his feet, which by reason of his sickenesse were shruncken vp, he told him, My good friend you shall finde them at my legges ends, if you looke wel. To another that exhorted him to recommend himself to God, he asked, who is going to him? And the follow answering, your selfe shortly: If it be his good pleasure, I would to God it might be to morrow night, replied he: Recommend but your selfe to him, said the other, and you shall quickly be there: It is best then, answered he, that my selfe carry mine owne commendations to him. In the Kingdome of Narsinga, even at this day their Priests wives are buried alive with the bodies of their dead husbands. All other wives are burnt at their husbands funerals, not only constantly, but cheerfully. When their king dieth, his wives, his concubines, his minions, together with all his officers and servants, which make a whole people, present themselves so merrily vnto the fire, wherein his bodie is burned, that they manifestly seem [...] to esteeme-it as a great honour, to accompanie their deceased master to his ashes. During our last warres of Millaine, and so many takings, losses, miseries, and calamities of that Citie, the people impatient of so manie changes of fortune, tooke such a resolution vnto death, that I have heard my father say; he kept accompt of five and twentie chiefe housholders, that in one weeke made them-selves away: An accident which hath some affinitie with that of the Xanthians, who being besieged by Brutus, did pell-mell-headlong, men, women, and children precipitate them-selues into so furious a desire of death, that no­thing can be performed to avoid death, which these did not accomplish to avoid life: So that Brutus had much adoe, to save a verie small number of-them. Euery opinion is of sufficient power to take hold of a man in respect of life. The first Article of that couragious oath, which the Countrie of Greece did sweare, and keep, in the Median warre, was, that every particular man should rather change his life vnto death, than the Persian lawes for theirs. What a world of people are daily seene in the Turkish warres, and the Graecians, more wil­ling to embrace a sharpe, a bitter, and violent death, then to be vncircumcized and baptized? An example whereof no religion is incapable. The Kings of Castile having banished the Iewes out of their Countrie, king Iohn of Portugall for eight crownes a man, sold them a retreit in his dominion, for a certaine time, vpon condition (the time expired) they should avoid, and he find them ships to transport them into Affrike. The day of their departure [Page 111] come, which past, it was expressed, that such as had not obeyed, should for-ever remaine bond-slaves; shippes were provided them, but very scarse and sparingly: And those which were imbarked, were so rudely, churlishly, and villainously vsed, by the passengers and mar­riners; who besides infinit other indignites, loitred so long on the seas, now forward, now backward, that in the end, they had consumed all their victuals, and were forced, if they would keepe themselves alive, to purchase some of them, at so excessive a rate, and so long, that they were never set a shore, til they had brought them so bare, that they had nothing l [...]t them but their shirts. The newes of this barbarous inhumanity being reported to those that were yet on land, most of them resolved to yeeld and continue bound-slaves: whereof some made a semblance to change their religion. Emanuel that immediately succeeded Iohn, being come to the Crowne, first set them at libertie, then changing his minde, commanded them to depart out of his dominions, and for their passages assigned them three ports. He hoped, as Bishop Osorius reporteth, (a Latine Historian of our ages, not to be despised) that the fa­vor of the libertie, to which he had restored them, having failed to convert them vnto Chri­stianity, the difficultie to commit themselves vnto marriners and pyrates robberies, to leave a Country where they were setled with great riches, for to go seeke vnknowen and strange re­gions, would bring them into Portugall againe. But seeing all his hopes frustrate, & that they purposed to passe away, hee cut off two of the three ports he had promised them, that so the tedious distance and incommoditie of the passage might retaine some, or rather that he might have the meane to assemble them all together in one place, for a fitter opportunitie of the execution he intended, which was this. Hee appointed that all their children vnder fourteene yeeres of age, should be taken from out the handes of their parents, and remoo­ved from their sight and conversation, to some place where they might be brought-vp, and instructed in our religion. He saith that this effect caused an horrible spectacle: The natu­rall affection betweene the fathers and the children; moreover the zeale vnto their ancient faith, striving against this violent ordinance. Diverse fathers and mothers were ordinarily seene to kill themselues, and with a more cruell example through compassion and love, to throw their yong children into pittes and welles, thereby to shunne the Law. The terme, which he had prefixed them being expired, for want of other meanes, they yeelded vnto thraldome. Some became Christians, from whose faith and race, even at this day (for it is a hundred yeares since) few Portugalles assure themselves; although custome, and length of time be much more forcible counsellors vnto such mutations, that any other compulsion. In the Towne of Castelnaw Darry, more then fifty Albigeois, all heretikes, at one time, with a determined courage, suffred themselves to be burned alive, all in one same fire, before they would recant & disavow their opinions. Quoties non modò ductores nostri, sed vniversi etiam ex­ercitus, ad non dubiam mortem concurrerunt? How often have, not only our Leader (saith Tully) C [...], Tus [...]. qu l. [...] but also our whole armies run roundly together to an vndoubted death? I have seene one of my sa­miliar friends runne furiously on death, with such, and so deepely in his heart rooted affe­ction, by diverse visages of discourse, which I could never suppresse in him, and to the first that offered it selfe masked with a lustre of honour, without apprehending any sharpe or violent end, therein to precipitate himsefe. We have many examples in our daies: yea in very children of such as for feare of some slight incómodity have yeelded vnto death. And to this purpose saith an ancient Writer, what shall we not feare, if we feare that, which co­wardise it selfe hath chosen for her retrait? Heere to huddle vp a long bead-rowle of those of all sexes, conditions, sects, in most happie ages, which either have expected death most constantly, or sought for it voluntarily, and not onely sought to avoid the evils of this life, but some, onely to shun the sacietie of living any longer: and some; for the hope of a better condition elsewhere, I should never have done. The number is so infinite, that verily it would be an easier matter for me to reckon vp those that have feared the same. Onely this more. Pirro the philosopher, finding himselfe vpon a very tempestuous day in a boat, shewed them whom he perceived to be most affrighted through feare, and encouraged them by the example of an hog, that was amongst them, and seemed to take no care at all for the storme: Shall wee then dare to say, that the advantage of reason, whereat we seeme so much to re­joyce, and for whose respect we account our selves Lords and Emperours of all other crea­tures, hath beene infused into vs for our torment? What availeth the knowledge of things, if through them we become more demisse? If thereby wee loose the rest and tranquilitie where­in [Page 130] we should be without them? and if it makes vs of worse condition then was Pirrhos hog? Shall we employ the intelligence, heaven hath bestowed vpon vs for our greatest good, to our ruine? repugning natures desseigne and the vniversall order and vicissitude of things, which implieth that every man should vse his instruments and meanes for his owne commo­ditie? Wel (will some tel me) let your rule fit you against death; but what will you say of indi­gence and necessitie? what will you also say of minde-grieving sorrow, which Aristippus, Hieronimus, and most of the wisest have judged the last evill? and those which denied the same in words, confessed the same in effect? Possidonius being extreamely tormented with a sharpe and painefull sickenesse, Pompey came to see him, and excused himselfe he had cho­sen so vnfit an houre to heare him discourse of Philosophie: God forbid (answered Possidoni­us) that over paine should so farre vsurpe vpon me, as to hinder me from discoursing of so woorthy a subiect. And thereupon began to speake of the contempt of paine. But there whilst she plaied her part, and vncessantly pinched and vrged him; gainst whom hee exclaimed: Paine, doe what thou list, I shall never be drawne to say, that thou art an evill. That saying, which they would make of such consequence, what doth it inferre against the contempt of paine it contends but for the word. And if the pangs thereof moove him not there whilst, why breakes he off his discourse for it? Why thinks he to worke a great exploit, not to call it an evill? All doth not consist in imagination. Heere we judge of the rest. It is assured learning that here doth play her part, our owne senses are judges of it?

Shall we make our skin beleeue, the stripes of a whip doe tickle it? and perswade our taste, that Aloes be wine of Graves? Pirrhos hog is here in our predicament. He is nothing danted at death, but if you beate him, he will grunt, crie and torment himselfe. Shall wee force the generall law of nature, which in all living creatures vnder heaven is seene to tremble at paine? The very trees seeme to groane at offences. Death is but felt by discourse, because it is the motion of an instant.

A thousand beasts, a thousand men, are sooner dead then threatned. Besides, what wee principally call feare in death, it is paine her customary fore-runner. Neverthelesse if we must give credit to an ancient father, Malam mortem non facit, nisi quod sequitur mortem. No­thing, ‘ but what follows death, makes death to be evill. And I might more truly say, that neither that which goeth before,’ no [...] that which commeth after, is no appurtenance of death, we falsely excuse our selves. And I find by experience, that it is rather the impatience of the ima­gination of death, that makes vs impatient of the paine, & that we feele it two-fold grievous, forasmuch as it threats vs to die. But reason accusing our weakenesse, to feare so sudden a thing, so vnavoidable, so insensible; we take this other more excusable pretence. All evils that have no other danger, but of the evill, we count them dangerlesse. The tooth- [...]ch, the paine of the gowt, how grievous soever, because they kill not, who reckoneth them in the number of maladies? Well, suppose that in death wee especially regard the paine: As also, povertie hath nothing to be feared for, but what she casteth vpon vs through famine, thirst, colde, heate, and other miseries, it makes vs feele and endure. So have we nothing to do but with paine. I will willingly grant them, that it is the woorst accident of our being. For, I am the man that hate and shunne it as much as possible may be; because hitherto (thanks be vnto God) I have no commerce or dealing with her: But it is in our power, if not to dissanull, at least to diminish the same, through patience: And though the body should be mooved thereat, yet to keepe the minde and reason in good temper. And if it were not so, who then hath brought vertue, valour, force, magnanimitie, and resolution into credit, Where shall they play their part, if there be no more paine defied? Avida est periculi virtus, Sen. quar. von. cap. 4. Vertue is desirous of danger. If a man must not lie on the hard ground, armed at all assaies, to [Page 131] endure the heat of the scorching Sunne, to feed hungerly vpon a horse, or an asse, to see him­selfe mangled and cut in peeces, to have a bullet pluckt out of his bones, to suffer incisions, his flesh to be stitcht-vp, cauterized, and searched, all incident to a martiall man; how shall we purchase the advantage and preheminence, which we so greedily seek-after, over the vulgar sort? It is far from avoiding the evill and paines of it, as wise men say, that of acti­ons equally good, one should most be wished to be done, wherein is most paine and griefe. Non enim hilaritate nec lascivia risu aut ioco comite levitatis, sed saepe etiam tristes firmitate & Cic. de fin. lib. 2. constantia sunt beati. For men are not happy by mirthfulnesse, or wantonnesse, or laughing, or iesting, which is the companion of lightnesse; but often, even those that are sorrowfull, through their strong heart and constancie. And therefore was it impossible to perswade our fathers, that conquests atchieved by maine force, in the hazard of warre were not more available and advantageous, then those obtained in all securitie by practises and stratagems.

Moreover, this ought to comfort vs, that naturally, if paine be violent, it is also short; if Cic. de fin. lib. 2. Epic. long, it is easie: Si gravis, br [...]vis; si longus, levis. If it be grievous, it is short; if it be long, it is light. Thou shalt not feel-it over long; if thou feel-it over much, it will either end it selfe, or end thee: All comes to one: If thou beare not it, it will beare thee away▪ Memineris maxi­mos morte finiri, parvos multa habere intervalla requietis; mediocrium nos esse dominos: vt si tole­rabiles Lib. 1. sint, feram [...]s: sin minus, è vita, quum ea non placeat, tanquàm è theatro exeamus. Re­member the greatest are ended with death, the lesser have many pauses of rest; we are masters of the meane ones: so as if they be tolerable, we may beare them; if not, we may make an Exit from our life which doth not please, as from a stage. That which makes vs endure paine with such impatience, is, that we are not accustomed to take our chiefe contentment in the soule, and that we do not sufficiently relie on hir; who is the onely, and soveraigne mistris of our con­dition. The bodie hath (except the least or most) but one course, and one by ase. The soule is variable in all maner of formes, and rangeth to her selfe, and to her estate, whatsoever it be, the senses of the bodie, and all other accidents. Therefore must she be studied, enquired, and sought-after: and her powerfull springs and wardes should be rowzed vp. There is neither reason, nor prescription, nor force can availe against her inclination and cho [...]se. Of so infinit byases, that she hath in her disposition, let vs allow hir one sutable and fit to our rest and preservation: Then shall we not onely be sheltered from all offence, but if it please her, also gratified and flattered of all grievances and evils. She indifferently makes profit of all; even errours and dreames, doe profitably bestead her, as a loyall matter, to bring-vs vnto safe­tie and contentment. It may easilie be seen, that the point of our spirit, is that which sharp­neth both paine and pleasure in vs. Beasts wanting the same, leave their free and naturall senses vnto their bodies: and by consequence, single well nigh in every kind, as they shew by the semblable application of their movings. If in our members we did not trouble the jurisdiction, which in that belongs vnto them; it may be thought, we should be the bet­ter for-it, and that nature hath given them a just and moderate temperature toward plea­sure and toward paine. And it can not chuse but be good and just, being equall and com­mon. But since we have freed and alienated our selves from her rules, to abandon our selves vnto the vagabond libertie of our fantasies: let vs at least help to bend them to the most agreeing side. Plato feareth our sharp engaging vnto paine and voluptuousnesse, forso­much as he over-strictly tieth and bindeth the soule vnto the bodie: I am rather opposite vnto him, because it is sundred and loosed from it. Even as an enemie becommeth more furious when we flie from him, so doth paine grow more prowd if it see-vs tremble vnder it. It will stoope and yeeld vpon better compositions to him that shall make head against-it. A man must oppose and bandie against it. In recoyling and giving ground, we call and draw on, the ruine threatning-vs. Even as the bodie is more steadie and stronge to a charge, if it stand stiffely to it, so is the soule. But let vs come to examples properly belonging vnto weak-backt men, as I am, where we shall find, that it is with paine, as with stones, which take either a higher or deeper colour, according to the foyle that is laide vnder them, and hold­eth no other place in vs then we give-it. Tantum doluerunt, quantum doloribus se inseruerunt. August. So much they grieved, as they interessed themselves in griefes. We feel a dash of a chirurgions [Page 132] razor more then ten blews with a sword in the heat of fight. The painfull throwes of child­bearing, deemed both by Phisitians, and by the word of God to be ver [...]e great, and which our women passe with so many ceremonies, there are whole Nations that make no recko­ning of them. I omit to speake of the Lacedemonian women; but come we to the Swizzers of our Infanterie, what change doe you perceive in them? But that trudging and trotting after their husbands, to day you see them carrie the child about their necke, which but yesterday they bare in their wombe. And those counterfet roging Gyptians, whereof so many are daily seene amongst vs, doe they not wash their children so soone as they are borne? And in the next river that comes to hand? Besides so many harlots, which daily steal their children in the deliverie as in the conception. The heauteous and noble Ladie of Sabinus a Roman Patritian, for the interest of others, did alone, without any bodies help or assistance, and without noise or groning endure the bearing, and deliverie of two twins. A simple lad of Lacedemon, having stolne a Foxe (for they more feared the shame of their foolishnesse in stealing, then we feare the paine or punishment of mis deeds) and hiding the same vnder his cloake, endured rather to have his guts gnawne out by hir, then to discover himselfe. An other who offering incense at a sacrifice, suffered his flesh to burne to the bone, by a coale falne into his sleeve, rather then he would trouble that sacred mysteri [...]. And a great number have been seen, for the onely essay of vertue, following their institution, that at the age of seaven yeares, without so much as changing their countenance, have indured to be whipped to death. And Cicero hath seen whole troups, to beat one a [...] other so long, Cic Tuse quaest. lib. 5. with their [...]sts, with their feet, and with their teeth, till they have fainted and falne downe halfe dead, before ever they would confesse to be overcome. Nunquam [...] m [...]s vi [...]ce­ret, est enim ea semper invicta, sed nos vmbris, deli [...]ijs, otio, languore, desid [...], animum infecimus: opinionibus malóque more delinitum mollivimus. Custome should never overcome nature, for she is still invincible: but we have infected our mind with shadowes, daintinesse, idlenesse, faint▪ har­tednesse, sloughtfulnesse, and have effeminated it, inveagled with opinions, and evill custome. Every man knowes the storie of S [...]vola, who being entred the enemies campe, with a full resolu­tion to kill their Chieftaine, and having missed of his purpose, to checke his effect with a stranger invention, and to cleare his countrie, confessed vnto Prosenna, (who was the King he intended to kill) not onely his dessigne, but added more-over, that in his campe there were a great many Romanes, who had vndertaken and sworne the verie same enterprise, and were confederates with him. And to make shew of his dread lesse magnanimitie, having cau­sed a pan of burning coales to be brought, he saw and suffred his right arme (in penance that it had not effected his project) to be par [...]hed and wel-nigh rosted off: vntill such time as his enemie himselfe, feeling a kind of remorce full horror, commaunded the fire to be caried away. What shall we say of him, that would not vouchsafe to leave, or so much as to interrupt the reading of his booke, whil'st he had an incision made into him? And of him who resolved to skoffe and laugh, even in spight and contempt of the tortures, which were inflicted vpon him, so that the raging crueltie of the hangmen, that held him, and all the inventions of torments that could be devised, being redoubled vpon him, one in the necke of another, gave him over? But he was a Philosopher. What? of one of Caesars gladiators, who with a cheerefull and smiling countenance endured his wounds to be slit and sounded? Quis mediocris gladiator ingemuit? Quis vultum mutavit vnquam? Quis non modò stet [...], ve­rùm Cic. Tuse quaest. lib. 2. etiam decubuit turpiter? Quis [...]ùm decubuisset, ferrum recipere [...]ssus, collum contraxit? What meane Fencer hath once gro [...]ed? Which of them hath once changed his countenance? Which of them not onely hath s [...]ood vp, but even falne with shame? Which of them when he was downe, and was willed to take his death, did once shrinke-in his necke? But let vs joyne some women vnto them. Who hath not heard of hir at Paris, which onely to get a fresher hew of a new skin, endured to have hir face flead all over? There are some, who being [...]ound, and in perfit health, have had some teeth puld-out, thereby to frame a daintier and more pleasing voyce, or to set them in better order. How many examples of contempt of paine or smart have we of that kind and sex? What can they not doe? What will they not doe? What feare they to doe? So they may but hope for some amendment of their beautie?

I haue seene some swallow gravell, ashes, coles, dust, tallow, candles, and for the no [...]ce, labour and toyle themselves to spoile their stomacke, onely to get a pale bleake colour. To become slender in wast, and to have a straight spagnolized body, what pinching, what guirding, what cingling will they not indure; Yea sometimes with yron-plates, with whale­bones, and other such trash, that their very skinne, and quicke flesh is eaten-in and consumed to the bones; Whereby they sometimes worke their owne death. It is common to divers nations of our times, to hurte and gash themselves in good earnest, to give credit to their words. And our king reporteth sundrie examples, of what himselfe sawe in Poloni [...], and towards himselfe, But besides what I know to have by some been imitated in France; when I came from the famous Parliament of Blois; I had a little before seene a wench in Picardi [...] to witnes the vehemencie of hir promises, and also hir constancie, with the bodkin she wore in hir haire, to give hir-selfe foure or five thrusts in hir arme, which made hir skinne to crack and gush out blood. The Turkes are wont to wound and scarre themselves for their Ladies sakes, and that the marke may the better appeare, and continue the longer, they wil presently lay fire vpon the cuttes; and to stanch the blood, and better to forme the cicatrice, they will keepe-it on, an incredible while. Honest men that have seene it, have written the same, and sworne it vnto me. And for ten Aspers you shall dayly finde some amongst them, that will give themselves a deepe gash with a Scimitarie, either in their armes or thighes. I am very glad witnesses are so readie at hand; where we have most need of them: For, Christendome affordeth many. And after the example of our holy guide, there have beene divers, who for devotion would needes beare the crosse. We learne by a worthy testimonie of relig [...]on, that Saint Lewes the King wore a haire-shirt, vntill such time as he was so aged, that his confessor gave him a dispensation for-it; and that every friday he caused his priests to beate his shoul­ders with five little yron chaines, which to that purpose were ever caried with his night­geare. William our last duke of Guienne, father to that Eleonore, who transferred that Dutchie vnto the houses of France and England, the last ten or twelve yeares of his life, for penance­sake wore continually a cor [...]elet, vnder a religious habit. Foulkes Earle of A [...]ou went to Ie­rusalem, there with a rope about his necke, to be whiped by two of his servants, before our Saviours sepulchre. Do we not vpon every good-friday, in sundrie places, see a great num­ber of men and women, scourge and beate themselves so long till they bruse and teare their flesh, even to the bones; I have often seene it my selfe, and that without enchantment, And some say (for they are masked) there were some amongst them, who for monie would vn­dertake thereby to warrant other mens religion, by a contempt of smart full paine, so much the greater, by how much the stings of devotion are of more force, th [...] those of covetousnes. Q. Maximus buried his son who had beene Consul: Marcus Ca [...]o his being elected Pretor and L. Paulus both his, within few daies, with so cheerefull and setled a countenance, and with out any shew of sorrowe. I have sometimes by way of [...]esting tolde one, that he had con­fronted divine iustice: For, the violent death of three tall children of his, comming vnto his cares all vpon one day, and sent-him, as it may be imagined, as a great scourge: he was so farre from mourning, that he rather tooke it as a favour and singular gratification at Gods hande. I doe not follow these monstrous humors. Yet have I lost two or three my selfe, whilst they were yong and at nurce, if not without apprehension of sorrow; ‘yet without con­tinuance of griefe. And there is no accident woundeth men ac [...]p [...]r, or goeth so neere the heart, as the losse of children. I see divers other common occasions of affliction, which were I assailed by them,’ I should scarcely feele. And I have contemned and neglected some, when it hath pleased God to visit me with them, on which the world setteth so vglie and balefull a coun­tenance, that I hardly dare boast of them without blushing. Ex quo intelligitur, non in natura, Cic. ib. l 3. sed in opinione esse aegretudinem. ‘ Whereby it is vnderstood, that griefe consisteth not in nature, but opinion. Opinion is a power full, boold, and vnmeasurable party. Who doth ever so greedily search after rest full ease and quietnes, as Alexander and Caesar have done after difficulties & vnquietnes [...]e? Terez, the father of Sitalcez, was woont to say, that when he had no [...]arres, hee’ thought there was no difference betweene him and his horse-keeper. Cato the Consull, to assure himselfe of certaine townes in Spaine, having onely interdicted some of their inhabitants to wea [...]e armes, many of them killed themselves: Ferox gens nullam vitam rat [...] sine arm [...]s [...]sse. A [Page 134] fierce kinde of people, that thought there was no life without armes. How many knowe wee who have abandoned and forsaken the pleasure of an ease-full and quiet life in their houses, and to live with their friends & acquaintance; to follow the toyling-horror of vnfrequented deserts, and that yeelded and cast themselves vnto the abiectnesse, contempt and vilifying of the world, wherewith they have so pleased themselves, as nothing more; Cardinall Boreme [...]s, who died lately at Milane, in the midst of the pleasures and debawches to which his Nobi­lity, and the great riches he possessed, enticed him, and the ayre of Italy afforded him, and his youth allured him, did ever keep himself in so an austere forme of life, that the same gown which served him in Summer he wore in winter. He never lay but vpon strawe; the houres which he might conveniently spare from his charge; he bestowed in continuall study, ever kneeling, and having a smal quantitie of bread and water by his bookes side, which was all the provision for his repast, and time he employed in study. I know some who wittingly have drawne both profit and preferment from cuckoldrie, the only name wherof is so yrkesome & bail-ful to so many men. If sight be not the most necessary of our censes, at last is it the most pleasing: the most plausible and profitable of our members, seeme those thatserve to beget vs: not withstanding divers have mortaly hated them, only because they were over mucha­m [...]able, and for their worthssake have reiected them. So thought he of his e [...]es, that volunta­rily put them out. The most common and [...]oundest part of men, holdeth multitude of chil­dren to be a signe of great happinesse and comfort; So doe I, and many others, the want of them. And when Thales was demaunded Wherefore he did not marie, he answered, because he would leave no issue or line of himselfe behinde him. That our opinon endeareth and encreaseth the price of things, it is seene in a great number of them, which we doe not regard to esteeme them; but for our vse. And we neither consider their qualities nor vtilities, but only our cost to recover and attaine them: as if it were a part of their substance; and we call that worth in them, not what they bring-vs, but what we bring to them. According as it weigheth, and is of consequence, so it serveth. Whervpon I perceive, we are thriftie husbands of what we lay out. Our opinion never suffers-it to runne a false gallop. The price giveth a Diamond his ti­tle, difficultie to vertue, paine vnto devotion, and sharpenesse vnto phisicke. Such a one to come vnto povertie, cast those fewe crownes he had into the same sea, wherein so many others, with such carke, danger, and care, on all parts seeke to fish for riches. Epicurus saith, that to be rich is no [...]ase, but a charge of affaires. Verily, it is not want, but rather plenty that causeth avarice. I will speake of mine owne experience, concerning this subiect. I have lived in three kinds of condition, since I came out of my infancie. The first time, which continued well-nigh twenty yeeres, I have passt-it over, as one who had no other means but casuall, and depen­ding from the direction and helpe of others; without any certaine maintenance, or regu­lar prescription. My expences were so much the more carelessely layed-out, and lavishly employed, by how much more they wholy depended on fortunes rashnesse and exhibition. I never lived so well at case: my fortune was never to finde my friends purse s [...]utte: besides which, I was to frame my selfe to all necessities: the care I tooke to pay every man at his pre­fixed day, which a thousand times they have prolonged, seeing the care I tooke to satisfie them. So that I had gotten vnto my selfe the credite of a thriftie kind of good husbandry, though it were somthing shifting and deceiptful. I do naturally feele a kinde of pleasing con­tentment in paying of my debts, as if I ridde my selfe of a burthenous weight, and free my selfe from the yoake of bondage and ingratitude. Besides, me-thinks I feele a kind of delight, that tickleth me to the quick, in performing a lawfully-iust action, & contenting of others. I except payments that require delayes, covenants, & after reckonings: for, if I [...]d any body that will vndertake them, I blusningly and iniuriously deferre them as long as I can, for feare of that altercation or wrangling, to which my humor and maner of speach is altogether in­compatible. There is nothing I hate more then driving of bargaines: It is a meere commerce of dodging and impudencie. After an houres debating and paltring, both parties will goe from their wordes and oathes for the getting or saving of a shilling: yet did I borrow with great disadvantage. For, having no heart to borrow before others, or by word of mouth, I would adventure it vpon a piece of paper, which with some hath no great power to move or force to perswade, and which greatly helps to refuse, I was wont to commit the succesle of my wants more freely and more carelessely vnto fortune, then I have done since vnto my wit and providence. Most good-husbands thinke-it strange and horrible to live on such vncer­tainties [Page 135] but they remember not, that most men in the world live so. How many good and well-borne men have heeretofore, and are dayly seene to neglect and leave at six and seaven, their patrimonies and certaine goods, to follow and seeke after court holy water, and wave­ring-favours of Princes and of fortune; Caesar engaged and endebted himselfe aboue a mil­lion of gold, more then he was worth to become Caesar. And how many marchants and poore beginners, set-vp and beginne their traffike by the sale of their farmes or cottages which they venter to the Indias▪

In so greate scarsitie of devotion, we have thousands of Colledges, which passe the time very conveniently, dayly gaping and expecting from the liberalitie of the heavens, what they must dine withall to morrow. Secondly; they consider not, that this certaintie on which they ground themselves; is not much lesse vncertain and hazardous, then hazad it-selfe. I see miserie as neere beyond two thousand crownesrent, as if it were hard at hand▪ for, be­sides that fortune hath many-many meanes to open a hundred gaps for poverty to enter-at, even through the thickest of our riches, and that often there is no meane betwene the high est and lowest fortune.

And to turne all our defences, and raisings of high walles topsie-turvie: I find that want and necessitie is by diverse or different causes, as ordinarily seene to accompany and follow those that are rich in goods, as those that have none at all: & that peradventure it is somwhat lesse incommodious, when it is alone, then when it meeteth with riches: They rather come from order, then from receite: Faber est suae quisque fortunae. Ever, man is the forger of his Eras. chil 2. cent. 4. [...]id. 63. owne fortune. And me thinkes that a rich man, who is needie, full of businesse, carke and toyle, and troubled in minde, is more miserable, then he that is simply poore. In div [...]ijs in­opes, Sen. epist. 74. P. quod▪ genus egestatis gravissium est. In their aboundance indigent, which is the most grie­vous kinde of indigence. The richest and greatest princes are ordinarily vrged by povertie and neede vnto extreame necessities. For, can any be more extreame, then thereby to become Tirants, and vniust vsurpers of their subiects goods, My second manner of life hath beene to have mony; which when I had once fingred, according to my condition I sought to hoord vp some against a raignie day; esteeming that it was no having, vnlesse a man had-ever some what besides his ordinary expences in possession: & that a man should not trust that good, which he must live in hope to receive; and that, be his hope never so likely, hee may many wayes be prevented. For, I would say vnto my selfe; what if I should be surprised by this chance, o [...] that accident? What should I do then? And in pursuite of these vaine and vi­cious imaginations, I endevoured by hooke or crooke, and by wi [...]e or wit to provide by this superfluous sparing for all inconveniences that might happen: And I could answere him, that would alleadge the number of inconveniences to be ouer-infinite? which if they followed not all men, they accompanied some, and happily the greatest number. An ap­prehension which I did not passe with out some painefull care. I kept the matter secret, and I (that dare say so much of myselfe) would never speake of my money but falsely; as others doe, who being rich, would seeme to be poore, or beeing poore would appeare rich: and dispence with their conscience, never to witnesse sincerelie what they are worth. Oh ridi­culous and shamefull prudence. Did I travell any where? me thought I was never sufficient­ly provided; and the more I had laden my selfe with coine, the more I had also burthened myselfe with feare: sometimes of my wayes-safetie, othertimes of their trust that had the charge of my sumpters and baggage, whereof as some others that I know, me thought I was never throughly assured, except it were still in my sight. Left I my keyes or my purse behind me? how many suspitions and thornie imaginations, and which is worse, incom­municable did vncessantly haunt-me? My minde was ever on my halfepenney; my thoughts ever that way. The summe being rightly cast, there is ever more paine in keeping, then in getting of mony. If I did not altogether so much as I say, I at the least endevoured to do-it. Of commo­dity I had little or nothing. To have more meanes of expences, is ever to have encrease of sorrow. For (as said Bion) The hairy man doth grieve as much a [...] the bald, if he have his haire [Page 136] pulld out. And after you are once accustomed, and have fixed your thoughts vpon a heape of money, it is no longer at your service? you dare not diminish-it? it is a building, which if you touch or take any part from-it, you will thinke it will all fall. Necessitie must first pinch you by the throate, and touch you neere, before you will lay handes on it. And I should sooner pawne my clothes, or sell my horse, with lesse care and compulsion, then make a breach into that beloved purse, which I kept in store. But the danger was, that a man can hardly prefix any certaine limits vnto his desire (they are hard to be found in things a man deemeth good) and continue at one stay in sparing: A man shall ever encrease this heape, and augment-it from one number to another; yea so long, til he basely and niggardly deprive himselfe of the enioying of his owne goods, and wholy fix-it on the safe-keeping of them, and never vse them. According to this kind of vsage, those are the richest people of the world, that have the charge of keeping the gates and walles of a rich Cittie. Every monied man is covetous, according to mine opinion. Plato marshalleth this humane or corporall goods; health, beautie, strength, riches: And riches, saith he, are not blind, but cleere-see­ing, if they be illuminated by wisedome. Dionysius the yonger, plaide a notable parte; who be­ing advertised, that one of his Siracusans, had hidden a certayn treasure vnder the ground, commanded him to bring it vnto him, which he did, reserving secretly one part of it vnto himselfe, with which hee removed his dwelling vnto another Citie, where having lost the humor of hoarding-vp of treasure, beganne to live a spending and riotous kinde of life: which Dionysius hearing, commanded the remainder of his treasure, and which he had ta­ken from him, to be restored vnto him; saying, That sit hence he had learned how to make vse of it, hee did most willingly redeliver the same vnto him. I was some yeares of the same humour: I wot not what good Demon did most profitably remoove me from it, like to the Siracusan, and made me to neglect my sparing. The pleasure I apprehended of a farre and chargeable journey, having overthrowne this foolish imagination in me; From which I am falne into a third kinde of life (I speake what I thinke of it) assuredly much more pleasing and formall: which is, that I measure my garment according to my cloth, and let my ex­pences goe together with my comming in; sometimes the one, other-whilst the other ex­ceedes: But they are never farre a sunder. I live from hand to mouth, from day to day, and have I but to supply my present and ordinarie needes, I am satisfied: As for extraordina­rie wants, all the provisions of the world will not suffice them. And it is folly to expect that fortune will ever sufficiently arme vs against her-selfe. It is with our owne weapons that we must combate her. Casuall armes will betray vs, when we shall have most need of them. If I lay vp any thing, it is for the hope of some imployment at hand, and not to purchase landes, whereof I have no neede, but pleasure and delight. Non esse cupidum, pecunia est: non esse emacem, vectigal est. It is currant coine, not to be covetous: it is a thriftie income, not to Cis. Parad. [...]ls. be still buying. I am neither possessed with feare, that my goods shall faile me, nor with desire they should encrease and multiplie. Divitiarum fructus est in copia: copiam declarat satietas. The fruite of riches is in plentie: sacietie content with enough approoves that plentie. And I sin­gularly Ibid. gratifie my selfe this correction came vpon me in an age naturally enclined to cove­tousnesse, and that I am free from that folly so common and peculiar to old men, and the most ridiculous of all humane follies. Feraulez who had passed through both fortunes, & found, that encrease of goods, was no accrease of appetite, to drinke, to eate, to sleepe, or to embrace his wife; and who on the other side felt heavily on his shoulders, the importunitie of ordering and directing his O [...]conomicall affaires, as it doth on mine, determine with himselfe to content a poore yoong man, his faithfull friend, greedily gaping after riches, and frankely made him a present donation of all his great and excessive riches; as also of those, he was likely everie day to get by the liberalitie and bountie of his good master Cyrus, and by warre: alwayes provided, hee should vndertake to entertaine and finde-him honestly, and in good sort, as his guest and friend. In which estate they lived afterward most hap­pily, and mutually content with the change of their condition.

Loe heare a part, I could willingly find in my heart to imitate. And I much commend the fortune of an olde prelate, whom I see, to have so clearely given-over his purse, his receites, and his expences, now to one of his chosen servants, and now to another, that he hath lived many yeares as ignorant of his housholde affaires, as any stranger. The confidence in others honestie, is no light testimonie of ones owne integritie: therfore doth God willingly favour­it. [Page 137] And for his regard, I see no houshould order, neither more worthily directed, nor more constantly managed then his. Happie is that man, that hath so proportionably directed his estate, as his riches may discharge and supply the same, without care or encombrance to himselfe; and that neither their consultation or meetings may in any sorte interrupt other affaires or disturbe other occupations, which he followeth, more convenient, more quier, and better agreeing with his heart. Therefore doth ease and indigencie depend from every mans owne opinion; and wealth and riches no more then glorie or health, have either more preheminence or pleasure, then he who possesseth them, lendeth them. Every man is either well or ill, according as he findes himselfe. Not he whom another thinkes content, but he is content indeede, that thinkes he is so himselfe: And onely in that, opinion giveth it selfe essence and veritie. Fortune doth vs neither good nor ill: She onely offereth-vs the seede and matter of it, which our minde more powerfull then she, turneth and applieth as best it pleaseth: as the efficient cause and mistris of condition, whether happie or vnhappie. Exter­nall accessions take both savor and color from the internall constitution: As garments do notwarme-vs by their heate, but by ours, which they are fit to cover, and nourish: he that with clothes should cover a cold body, should draw the very same service from them by cold. So is snow and yce kept in summmer. Verily as vnto an idle and lazie body, studie is but a torment; abstinence from wine to a drunkard, is a vexation; frugalitie is a harts sorrowe to the luxurious; and exercise molesteth an effeminate body: so is it of all things else. Things are not of themselves so irksome, nor so hard, but our basenes, and weakenesse maketh them such. To iudge of high land great matters, a high and great minde is required; otherwise we atribute that vice vnto them, which indeede is ours. A straight oare being vnder water seemeth to be crooked. It is no matter to see a thing, but the matter is how a man dooth see the same. Well, of so many discourses, which diversly perswade men to contemne death, and patiently to endure paine, why shall we not finde some on to make for our purpose; And of so severall and many kinds of imagnations, that have perswaded the same vnto others why doth not every man apply one vnto himselfe, that is most agreeing with his humor; If he cannot digest a strong and abstersive drugge, for to remove his evill, let him at least take a lenitive pill to [...]ase the same. Opinio est quaedum effoeminata ac lev [...]s: nec in dolore magis, quam Cic. Tuse. quest lib. 2. eadem in voluptate: quâ, quum liquescimus flu [...]m [...]sque mollitia, apis aculeum fiue clamore ferre non possumus. Totum in eo est, vt tibi imperes. There is a certaine effeminate and light opinion, and that no more in sorrow, then it is in pleasure, where by when we melt and runne over in daintie tendernes, we cannot abide to be stung of a Bee, but must rore and crie out. This is the totall summe of all, that you be maister of your selfe. Moreouer, a man doth not escape from Philosophie, by making the sharpnes of paines, and humane weakenesse to prevaile so far beyond measure: for, she is compelled to cast hirselfe over againe vnto these in vincible replication. If it be bad to live in necessitie, at least there is no necessitie, to live innecessitie. No man is long time ill, but by his owne fault. He that hath not the heart to endure neither life nor death, and that will ni­ther resist nor runne away, what shall a man doe to him;

The one and fortieth Chapter.

OF all the follies of the world, the most vniversall, and of most men received is the care of reputation, and studie of glorie, to which we are so wedded, that we neglect, and cast­off riches, friends, repose, life and health (goods effectuall and substantiall) to follow that vaine image, and idlie-simple voice, which hath neither bodie, nor hold-fast.

And of mens vnreasonable humors, it seemeth, that the best philosophers doe most slow­ly, and more vnwillingly cleare themselves of this, then of another: it is the most peevish the most froward, and the most opinative. Quia etiam bene proficientes animos tentare non ces­sat. Cic. pro. Arc. po. Because it ceaseth not to tempt even those Mindes that profite best. There are not many whereof reason doth so evidently condemne vanitie, but it is so deeply rooted in vs, as I wot not whether any man could ever clearely discharge himselfe of it. When you have alleaged all the reasons you can, and believed all to disavowe and reiect hir, she produceth contrary to your discourses, so intestine inclination, that you have small hold against hir. For (as Cicero saith,) Even those that oppugne hir, will neverthelesse have the bookes they write against hir, to beare their names vpon their fronts, endevoring to make themselves glorious by dispisi [...]g of glory. Al other things fall within the compasse of commerce: we lend our goods, we employ our lives, if our friends stand in need of-vs: But seldome shall we see a man communicate his honor, share his reputation, and imparte his glory vnto others. Catulus Luctatius in the warres a­gainst the Cymbres, having done the vtmost of his endevours to stay his souldiers that fled before their enemies, put-himselfe amongest the runne-awaies, and dissembled to bee a co­ward, that so they might rather seeme to follow their Captaine, then flie from the enemie: This was a neglecting and leaving off his reputation, to conceale the shame and reproach of other. When Charles the fift passed into Provence, the yeare a thousand five hundred thir­ty seaven, some are of opnion, that Anthony de Leva, seeing the emperor his master resolutely obstinate to vndertake that voyage, & deeming it wonderfully glorious, maintained never­thelesse the contrary, and discouncelled him from-it, to the end all the honour and glory of this counsell might be attributed vnto his Maister; and that it might be said, his good advise and fore-sight to have been such, that contrary to al mens opinions, he had atchieved so glo­rious an enterprise: Which was, to honor and magnifie him at his owne charges. The Thra­cian Ambassadors comforting Achileonida the Mother of Brasidas, for the death of hir son, and highly extolling and commending him, said, he had not left his equall behind him. She refused this private commendation, and particular praise, assigne-it to the publike state. Do not tell me that (quoth she,) For I knowe the Citty of Sparta hath many greater, and more va­liant Citizens then he was. At the battaile of Creey, Edward the blacke Prince of Wales, be­ing yet very yoong, had the leading of the vant-gard: The greatest and chiefe violence of the fight, was in his quarter: The Lordes and Captains that accompanied him, perceiving the great danger, sent vnto King Edward the princes father, to come and help them: which when he hard, he enquired what plight his sonne was-in, and how he did, and hearing that he was living, and on horse-backe; I should (quoth he) offer him great wrong to goe now, and deprive him of the honor of this combates, victory, which he already hath so long sustained; what danger soever there be in-it, it shall wholy be his: and would neither goe nor send vnto him: knowing, that if he had gone, or sent, it would have beene said, that without his ayd all had beene lost, and that the advantage of this exployt would have beene ascribed vnto him. Semper enim quod postremum adiectum est, id rem totam videtur traxisse. For, ever more that which was last added, seemes to have drawne on the whole matter. In Rome many thought, and it was commonly spoken, that the chiefest glorious deeds of Scipio, were partely due vnto Lalius, who not­withstanding did ever advance the greatnesse, further the glory, and second the renowne of Scipio, without any respect of his owne. And Theopompus King of Sparta, to one who tolde him that the common-wealth should subsist and continue still, forsomuch as he could command so well: No, said he, it is rather, because the people know so well how to obey. As the women that succeeded in the Peere-domes of France, had (notwithstanding their sex [...]) right to assist, and priviledge to plead in cases appertaining to the iuridictions, of Peeres. So the Ecclesiasticall Peeres, notwithstanding their profession and function, were bound to as­sist our Kings in their warres, not onely with hir friends, servants, and tenants, but in their owne person. The Bishop of Beauvais, being with Philip Augustus in the battell of Bo­vines, did very couragiously take part with him in the effect; but thought hee should not be partaker of the fruite and glory of that bloody and violent exercise. He overcame, and for­ced [Page 139] that day many of the enimies to yeeld, whom he delivered vnto the first gentleman hee met withall, to rifle, to take them prisoners, or at their pleasure to dispose of them. Which he also did with William Earle of Salisbury, whom he delivered vnto the Lord Iohn of Neste, with a semblable subtletie of conscience, vnto this other. He desired to fell and strike down a man, but not to wound or hurt him: and therefore never sought but with a great clubbe. A man in my time being accused to the King, to have laide violent hands vpon a Priest, de­nied it very stoutly, forsomuch as he had onely thumped and trampled him with his feete.

The two and fortieth Chapter.

PLutarke saith in some place, That he findes no such great difference betweene beast and beast, as he findeth diversitie betweene man and man. He speaketh of the sufficiencie of the minde, and of internall qualities. Verily I finde Epaminondas so farre (taking him as I suppose him) from some that I know (I meane capable of common sense) as I could finde in my heart to endeare vpon Plutarke; and say there is more difference betweene such and such a man, than there is diversitie betweene such a man, and such a beast.

And that there be so many degrees of spirits, as there are steps betweene heaven and earth, and as innumerable. But concerning the estimation of men, it is marvell, that except our selves, no one thing is esteemed but for i'ts proper qualities. We commend a horse, because he is strong and nimble, I [...]en. sat. 8. 57

and not for his furniture: a graie-hound for his swiftnesse, not for his choller: a hawke for hir wing, not for hir cranes or belles. Why doe we not likewise esteeme a man for that which is his owne? He hath a goodly traine of men following him, a stately pallace to dwell in, so great credit amongst men; and so much rent comming in: Alas, all that is about him, and not in him. No man will buy a pig in a poke. If you cheapen a horse, you wil take his saddle and clothes from him, you will see him bare and abroade: or if he be covered as in old times they wont to present them vnto Princes to be sold, it is onely his least necessary parts, lest you should ammuse your selfe to consider his colour, or breadth of his crupper; but chiefly to view his legges, his head, his eyes, and his foote, which are the most remarkable parts, and above all to be considered and required in him,

When you will esteeme a man, why should you survey him all wrapt, and envellopped? He then but sheweth vs those parts, which are no whit his owne: and hideth those from vs, by which alone his woorth is to be judged. It is the goodnesse of the sworde you seeke after, and not the worth of the scabbard; for which peradventure you would not give a farthing, [Page 140] if it want his lyning. A man should be iudged by himselfe, and not by his complements. And as an ancient saith very pleasantly: Doe you know wherefore you esteeme him tall. You account the height of his pattens: The Base is no part of his stature: Measure him without his stiltes. Let him lay aside his riches and externall honors, and shew himselfe in his shirt. Hath he a body proper to his functions, sound and cheerefull? What minde hath he? Is it faire, capable and vnpolluted, and happily provided with all hir necessarie parts? Is shee rich of hir owne, or of others goods? Hath fortune nothing of hirs to survay therein? If broade-waking she will looke vpon a naked sword: If shee care not which way hir life goeth from hir, whether by the mouth or by the throte; whether it be setled, equable, and conten­ted: It is that a man must see and consider, and thereby judge the extreame differences that are betweene vs: Is he

Such a man is five hundred degrees beyond kingdomes and principalities: Himselfe is a kingdome vnto himselfe.

What is there else for him to wish for?

Compare the vulgar troupes of our men vnto him, stupide, base, servile, wavering, and con­tinually floting on the tempestuous Ocean of divers passions, which tosse and retosse the same, wholy depending of others: There is more difference, then is betweene heaven and earth, and yet such is the blindnesse of our custome, that we make little or no account of it. Whereas, if we consider a Cottager & a King, a noble and a handy-crafts man, a magistrate and a private man, a rich man and a poore; an extreame disparitie doth immediatly present it self vnto our eies, which, as a man may say, differ in nothing, but in their clothes. In Thrace. the King was after a pleasant maner distinguished from his people, and which was much endeared: He had a religion apart: a God severall vnto himselfe, whom his subjects might no waies adore: It was Mercurie: And he disdained their gods, which were Mars, Bacchus, and Diana; yet are they but pictures, which make no essential dissemblance. For, as enterlude­plaiers, you shall now see them on the stage, play a King, an Emperor, or a Duke, but they are no soner off the stage, but they are base rascals, vagabond abjects, and porterly hirelings, which is their naturall and originall condition: Even so the Emperor, whose glorious pomp doth so dazle you in publike:

View him behinde the curtaine, and you see but an ordinarie man, and peradventure more vile, and more seely, then the least of his subiects. Ille beatus introrsum est; istius bracteata f [...] ­licit S [...]. [...]pi [...]. 115. as est. One is inwardly happy: an others f [...]licitie is plated and guilt-over. Cowardise, irresoluti­on, ambition, spight, anger, and envie, moove and worke in him as in another:

And feare, and care, and suspect, haunt and follow him, even in the middest of his armed troupes.

Doth the ague, the megrim, or the gout spare him more then vs? When age shall once seize on his shoulders, can then the tall yeomen of his guarde discharge him of it? When the terror of ruthles-balefull death shall assaile him, can he be comforted by the assistance of the gentlemen of his chamber? If he chance to be jealous or capricious, will our lowting­curtzies, or putting off of hattes, bring him in tune againe? His bedstead enchased all with gold and pearles hath no vertue to allay the pinching pangues of the cholike.

The flatterers of Alexander the great, made him beleeve, that he was the sonne of Iupiter; but being one day sore-hurt, and seeing the blood gush out of his wounds: And what thinke you of this? (Said he vnto them) Is not this blood of a lively red hew, and meerely humane? Me thinkes, it is not of that temper, which Homer faineth to trill from the gods wounds. Her­modorus the Poet made certaine verses in honour of Antigonus, in which he called him the sonne of Phoebus; to whom he replied; My friend, He that emptieth my close-stoole knoweth well, there is no such matter. He is but a man at all assaies: And if of himselfe he be a man ill borne, the Empire of the whole world cannot restore him.

What of that? If he be of a grose, stupide, and senseles minde: voluptuousnesse and good fortune it selfe, are not perceived without vigor, wit, and livelinesse.

[Page 142]Whatsoever the goods of fortune are, a man must have a proper sense to favour them: It is the enioying, and not the possessing of them, that makes vs happy.

He is a foole, his taste is wallowish and distracted, he enjoyeth it more, then one that hath a great colde, doth the sweetenesse of Greeke wine, or a horse the riches of a costly­faire furniture, wherewith he is trapped. Even as Plato saith, That health, beautie, strength, riches, and all things else he calleth good, are equally as ill to the vniust, as good to the iust; and the euill contrariwise. And then▪ where the body and the soule are in ill plight, what neede these externall commodities? Seeing the least pricke of a needle, and passion of the mind is able to deprive vs of the pleasure of the worlds Monarchie. The first fit of an ague, or the first gu [...]rd that the gout gives him, what availes his goodly titles of Majestie?

doth he not foorthwith loose the remembrance of his pallaces and states? If he be angrie or vexed, can his principalitie keepe him from blushing, from growing pale, from gnas [...]ing his teeth like a Bedlam? Now if it be a man of woorth, and well borne, his royaltie, and his glorious titles will adde but little vnto his good fortune.

He seeth they are but illusions, and vaine deceit [...]. He may happily be of King Seleucus his advise: That he who fore-knew the weight of a scepter, should he finde-it lying on the ground, he would not daine to take-it vp. This he said, by reason of the w [...]ghtie, irksome and paine­full charges, that are incident vnto a good King. Truely, it is no small matter to governe others, since so many cross [...]s and difficulties offer themselves, if we will governe our selves well. Touching commanding of others, which in shew seemeth to be so sweete, conside­ring the imbecilitie of mans iudgement, and the difficultie of choice in new and doubtfull things. I am confidently of this opinion, that it is much more easie and plausible to follow, then to guide: and that it is a great setling of the minde, to be tied but to one beaten▪path, and to answer but for himselfe.

Seeing Ciru [...] saide, That it belongs not to a man to command, that is not of more woorth, then those whom he commandeth. But King Hieron in Xenophon addeth moreover, That in truely­enioying of carnall sensualities, they are of much woorse condition, then private men; forasmuch as ease and facilitie, depriveth them of that sowre-swee [...]e tickling, which w [...] finde in them.

Thinke wee, that high-minded men take great pleasure in musicke? The satietie thereof makes it rather tedious vnto them. Feasts, banquets, revels, dancings, masks and turneys, re­joyce them that but seldome see them, and that have much desired to see them: the taste of which-becommeth cloysome and vnpleasing to those that daily see, and ordinarily have them: Nor doe Ladies tickle those, that at pleasure and without suspect may be glutted with them. He that cannot stay till he be thirstie, can take no pleasure in drinking. Enter­ludes and commedies rejoyce and make vs merry, but to players they are tedious and taste­lesse. Which to proove, we see, it is a delight for Princes, and a recreation for them, some­times to disguise themselves, and to take vpon them a base and popular kinde of life.

Nothing doth sooner breed a distaste or satietie, then plentie. What long-ing lust would not beealaide, to see three hundred women at his dispose and pleasure, as hath the Grand Turke in his Seraille? And what a desire and shew of hawking had he reserved to himselfe from his ancestors, that never went abroad without seuen thousand falkners at least? Be­sides which, I thinke, the luster of greatnesse, brings no small incommodities to the enjoy­ing of sweeter pleasures: they lie too open, and are too much in sight. And I wo [...] not why a man should longer desire them to conceale or hide their fault: For, what in vs is indis [...]re­tion, the people judgeth to be tyrannie, contempt, and disdaine of the lawes in them: And besides the ready inclination vnto vice, it seemeth they also adde vnto it the pleasure of gour­mandizing, and to prostrate publike observances vnder their feete. Verily Plato in his Gor­gias, defineth him to be a tyrant, that in a Citie hath leave and power to doe what ever he list. And therefore often, the shew and publication of their vice hurteth more then the sinne in selfe. Everie man feareth to be spied and controlled; which they are even in their counte­nances and thoughts: All the people esteeming to have right and interest to judge of them. And we see that blemishes grow either lesser or bigger, according to the eminence, and light of the place, where they are set, and that a mole or a wart in ones forehead is more appa­rently perceived, then a scarre in another place. And that is the reason why Poets faine Iu­piters loves to have beene effected vnder other countenances, than his owne; And of so many amorous-shifts, and love practises, they impute to him, there is but one (as farre as▪ I remember) where he is to be seene in his greatnesse and majestie. But returne we to Hieron [...] ▪ he also relateth, how many incommodities he findeth in his royaltie, being so barred, that he cannot at his libertie travell to goe whether he pleaseth, being as it were a prisoner with­in the limits of his country; and that in all his actions he is encircled and hemd-in with an importunate and tedious mult [...]tude. Truely, to see our Princes all alone, sitting at their meate, beleagred-round with so many talkers, whisperers, and gazing beholders, vnknowne what they are or whence they come, I have often rather pittied then envied them. King Alphonsus was wont to say, that burthen-bearing asses were in that; in farre better condition than Kings; for, their masters suffer them to feede at their ease, whereas Kings cannot obtaine that priviledge of their servants. And it could never fall into my minde, that it might be any spe­ciall commoditie to the life of a man of vnderstanding, to have a score of find-faults, picke­thanks, and controlers about his close-stoole, nor that the service of a man, that hath a thousand pound rent a yeere, or that hath taken Casal, or defended Sienna, is more com­modious or acceptable to him, then that of a sufficient, and well-experienced groome▪ Princelike advantages, are in a maner but imaginarie preheminences. Every degree of fortune, hath some image of Principalitie. Caesar termeth all the Lords, which in his time had justice in France, to be Kinglets, or petie Kings. And truely, except the name of Sire, we goe very farre with our Kings. Looke but in the Provinces remote and farre from the [Page 144] court: As for example, in Britanie, the attending traine, the flocking subjects, the number of officers, the many affaires, the diligent service, the obsequious ceremonies of a Lord, that liveth retired, and in his owne house, brought vp amongst his owne servants, tenants, and followers: And note also the high pitch of his imaginations, and humours, there is no grea­ter royaltie can be seene: He heareth no more talke of his master, then of the Persian king, and happily but once a yeare: And knowes but some farre-fetcht, and old kindred or pedi­gree, which his Secretarie findes or keepes vpon some ancient record or evidence. Veri­ly our lawes are very free, and the burthen of soveraigntie, doth scarsly concerne a gentle­man of France twice in his whole life. Essentiall and effectuall subjection amongst vs doth not respect any, but such as allure themselves vnto it, and that affect to honour, and love to enrich themselues by such service: For he that can shrowd and retire himselfe in his owne home, and can manage and direct his house without sutes in law, or quarrell with his neigh­bours, or domesticall encombrances, is as free as the Duke of Venice. Paucos servitus, plures Senec. epist. 2 2. servitutem tenent. Service holds few, but many hold service. But above all things Hieron see­meth to complaine, that he perceiveth himselfe deprived of all mutuall friendship, recipro­call societie, and familiar conversation, wherein consisteth the most perfect and sweetest fruite of humane life. For, what vndoubted testimonie of affection and good will, can I expect or exact from him, that will-he, or nill he, oweth me all he hath, all he can? Can I make account of his humble speech, of his low-lowting curtzie, or of his curteous offers, since it lieth not in his power to refuse them me? The honour we receive of those which feare and stand in awe of vs, is no true honour. Such respects are rather due to royaltie, to majestie, then to me.

Doe I not see, that both the badde and the good King are served alike? That hee who is hated, and he that is beloved are both courted alike? And the one as much fawned vpon as the other? My predecessor was served with the same apparances, and waited vpon with the like ceremonies, and so shall my successor be. If my subjects offend me not, it is no testi­mony of any good affection. Wherefore shall I take it in that sense, sithence they cannot, if they would? No man followeth me for any friendship that is between him and me: inasmuch as no firme friendship can be contracted, where is so small relation, so slender corresponden­cie, & such disparity. My high degree hath excluded me from the commerce of men. There is too great an inequalitie, and distant disproportion. They follow for countenance, and of custome, or rather my fortune then my selfe: hoping therby to encrease theirs. Whatsoever they say, all they doe vnto me, is but a glosse, and but dissimulation, their liberty being every where brideled, and checked by the great power I have over them. I see nothing about me, but inscrutable hearts, hollow mindes, fained lookes, dissembled speeches, and counterfet actions. His Courtiers one day commended Iulian the Emperour for ministring of right, and doing of justice; I should easily grow proud (said he) for these praises▪ if they came from such as durst either accuse or discommend my contrary actions, should I commit any. All the true commo­dities that Princes have, are common vnto them with men of meane fortune. It is for Gods to mount winged horses, and to feed on Ambrosia. They have no other sleepe, nor no other appetite then ours. Their steele is of no better temper, then that wherewith we arme our selves. Their crowne, their diademe can neither hide them from the Sun, or shelter them from the raine. Dioclesian that wore one so much reverenced, and so fortunate, did volunta­rily resigne the same, to withdraw himselfe vnto the pleasure of a private life; but a while af­ter, the vrgent necessitie of publike affaires requiring his presence, and that he should return to re-assume his charge againe, he answered those that solicited him vnto it; you would never vndertake to perswade me to that, had you but seene the goodly rankes of trees, which my­selfe have planted in mine Orchard, or the faire muske-melo [...]s, I have set in my garden. According to Anacharsis his opinion, The happiest estate of a well-ordered common wealth should be, where all other things being equally common, precedencie should be measured, and preferments [Page 145] suted according to vertue and desert, and the contrarie according to vice. At what time King Pir­rhus vndertooke to passe into Italy, Cyneas his wise and trustie counsellor, going about to make him perceive the vanitie of his ambition, one day bespake him thus. My good sir, (said he) To what end do you prepare for so great an enterprise? He answered sodainly, To make my selfe lord of Italic. That done, what will you doe then? (replied Cyneas) I will then passe (said Pirrhus) into Gaule, and then into Spayne: And what afterwards? I will then invade Affrike, and subdue the same, and at last, when I shall have brought all the world vnder my subiection, I will then take my rest, and live contented at mine ease. Now, for Gods sake Sir, (replied Cynoas) Tell me, what hinders you, that you be not now, if so you please, in that estate? Wherefore doe you not now place your selfe, where you meane to aspire, and save so much danger, so many hazards, and so great troubles as you enterpose betweene both?

I will conclude and shut vp this treatise with an ancient verse, which I singularly applaud, and deeme fit to this purpose.

The three and fortieth Chapter.

THE maner wherewith our Lawes assay to moderate the foolish and vaine expences of table-cheare and apparell, seemeth contrarie to it's end. The best course were to beget in men a contempt of gold and silk-wearing, as of vaine and vnprofitable things, whereas we encrease their credite and price: A most indirect course to withdraw men from them. As for example, to let none but Princes eate dainties, or weare velvets, and clothes of Tissew, and interdict the people to do-it, what is-it but to give reputation vnto those things, and to encrease their longing to vse them? Let Kings boldly quit those badges of honour; They have many other besides: Such excesse is more excusable in other men, then in Princes. We may, by the examples of divers Nations, learne sundry better fashions to distinguish our selves and our degrees (which truely I esteeme requisite in an estate,) without nourishing to that purpose, this so manifest corruption and apparant inconvenience. It is strange how cu­stome in these indifferent things doth easilie encroch and sodainly establish the footing of hir authoritie. We had scarce worne cloth one whole yeare at the Court, what time we mour­ned for our King Henry the second, but certainly in every mans opinion, all maner of silkes were alreadie become so vile and abject, that was any man seene to weare them, he was pre­sently judged to be some countrie fellow, or mechanicall man. They were left only for Chy­rurgians and Physitians. And albeit most men were apparreled a-like, yet were there other sufficient apparant distinctions of mens qualities. How soone doe plaine chamoy-jerkins, and greasie canvase doublets creepe into fashion and credite amongst our souldiers, if they lie in the field? And the garishnesse, neatnesse, and riches of silken garments grow in con­tempt and scorne? Let Kings first begin to leave these superfluous expences, we shall all fol­low; and within a moneth, without edicts, ordinances, proclamations, and acts of Parlia­ment, it will be observed as a law. The statutes should speake contrarie, as thus. That no man or woman, of what qualitie soever, shall, vpon paine of great forfeitures, weare any ma­ner of silke, of skarlet, or any gold-smiths worke, except only Enterlude-players, Harlots, and Curtizans- With such an invention did Zaleucus whilome correct the corrupted maners of the Locrines. His ordinances were such Be it enacted that [...]o woman of free condition shall [Page 146] have any more then one maid-servant to follow her when she goeth abroad, except when she shall be drunken: And further, that she may not goe out of the Citie by night, nor weare any jewels of gold, or precious stones about hir, nor any gowne beset with gold-smiths work, or imbroiderie, except she be a publike-professed whore: and moreover, that except panders and bawdes, it shall not be lawfull for any man to weare any gold-rings on his fingers, nor any rich garments, as are such of cloth made in the Citie of Miletum. So did he by these reprochfull exceptions ingeniously drive his Citizens from vaine superfluities, and perni­cious dainties. It was a most profitable course, by honor and ambition to allure men vnto their dutie and obedience. Our Kings have the power to addresse all these externall refor­mations. Their inclination serveth them as a law. Quicquid Principes faciunt, praecipere vi­dentur. Whatsoever Princes doe, that, they seeme to commaund. The rest of France takes the modell of the court, as a rule vnto it selfe to follow. Let Courtiers first begin to leave-off and loath these filthy and apish breeches, that so openly shew our secret parts; the bumbasting of long pease-cod-bellied doublets, which makes vs seeme so far from what we are, and which are so combersome to arme: These long, effeminate, and daugling locks: That fond custome to kisse what we present to others, and Besolas manos in saluting of our friends: (a ceremonie heretofore onely due vnto Princes;) And for a gentleman to come to any place of respect, without his rapier by his side, all vnbraced, all vntrust, as if he came from his close-stoole: And that, against our forefathers maner, and the particular libertie of our French nobilitie, we should stand bare-headed, aloofe-off from them, wheresoever they be, and as about them, about many others: So many petty-kings, and petty-petty-king­lets have we now adayes: And so of others like new-fangled and vicious introductions: They shall soone be seene to vanish and be left. Although but superficiall faults, yet are they of evill presages. And we are warned, that the foundation or maine summers of our houses faile and shrinke, when we see the quarters bend, or wals to breake. Plato in his Lawes, thinkes there is no worse plague, or more pernicious in his Citie, then to suffer youth, to have the reines of libertie in her owne hand, to change in their attires, in their gestures, dances, exercises, and songs, from one forme to an other: And to remove their judgement, now to this, now to that place; following new-fangled devises, and regarding their inventors: By which, old customes are corrupted, and ancient institutions despised. In all things, except the wicked, mutation is to be feared; yea, even the alteration of sea­sons, of winds, of livings, and of humours. And no lawes are in perfect credite, but those to which God hath given some ancient continuance: So that no man know their of-spring, nor that ever they were other then they are.

The foure and fortieth Chapter.

REason doth appoint-vs ever to walke in one path, but not alwaies to keep one place: And that a wise-man should not permit humane passions to stray from the right car­rier; he may (without prejudice vnto his dutie) also leave-it vnto them either to hasten or to slow his pace, and not place himselfe as an immoveable and impassible Colossus. Were vertue herselfe corporeall and incarnate, I think her pulse would beat and worke stronger, marching to an assault, then going to dinner: For, it is necessarie that she heat and move herselfe. I have therefore mark't-it as a rare thing; to see great personages sometimes, even in their weightiest enterprises, and most important affaires, hold themselves so resolutely­assured in their state, that they doe not so much as breake their sleepe for them. Alexander the great, on the day appointed for that furious-bloodie battle against Darius, slept so soundly and so long that morning, that Parmenion was faine to enter his chamber, & appro­ching neere vnto his bed, twice or thrice to call him by his name, to awaken him, the houre of the battle being at hand, and vrging him. Otho the Emperour having determined to kill himselfe, the very same night, after he had given order for his domesticall affaires, shared his [Page 147] monie amongst his servans, and whetted the edge of a sword, wherewith he intended to wound himselfe, expecting no other thing, but to know whether all his friends were gone to rest, fell into so sound a sleepe, that the groomes of his chamber heard him snort in an­other roome. This Emperours death hath many parts semblable vnto that of great Cato, and namely this: For, Cato being prepared to defeat himselfe, whilest he expected to heare newes, whether the Senators, whom he caused to retire, were lanched out from the haven of Vtica, fell so fast asleep, that he was heard to snort into the next chamber: And he whom he had sent toward the port, having awaked him, to tell him, the storme was so rough, that the Senators could not conveniently put out to sea, he sent another, and lying downe a new, fell asleep againe, vntill the last messenger assured him, they were gone. We may also com­pare him vnto Alexander, in that great and dangerous storme, which threatned him, by the sedition of Metellus the Tribune, who laboured to publish the decree of Pompeys re-ap­peal into the Citie, together with his armie, at what time the commotion of Catiline was on foote: against which decree onely Cato did insist, and to that purpose had Metellus and he had many injurious speeches, and menaced one another in the Senate-house: And it was the next day, they were like to come to the execution in the market-place, where Metellus, besides the favour of the common people, and of Caesar then conspiring and complotting for the aduancement of Pompey, should come, accompanied with a multitude of strange and fortaine slaves and fencers, to doe their vtmost: And Cato strengthened with his onely constancie, and with an vnmated resolve: So that his kinsmen, his familiars, and many ho­nest men tooke great care, and were in heavie anxietie and pensivenesse for him: of which many never left him all night, but sate vp together, without rest, eating, or drinking, by rea­son of the danger they saw prepared for him; yea, his wife and sisters did nought but weep and waile, and for his sake torment themselves in their house, whereas contrariwise he alone comforted every bodie, and blamed them, for their demissenesse: And after he had supped, (as he was wont) he went quietly to his bed, and slept verie soundly vntill the next morning, that one of his copartners in the Tribune-ship, came to call him, to goe to the skirmish. The knowledge we have of this mans vnmated-haughtie heart, by therest of his life; may make vs judge with all securitie, that it onely proceeded from a spirit, so far elevated above such accidents, that he dained not so much as to trouble his mind with them, no more then with ordinarie chances. In the sea-fight, which Augustus gained against Sextus Pompeius in Sicilie, even at the instant he should go to fight, was surprised with so heavie a sleep, that his friends were compelled to awaken-him, to give the signall of the battell; which after­ward gave occasion vnto Marcus Antonius, to charge him with this imputation, that he had not dared with open eyes to survay the marshalling of his armie, and that his heart would not suffice him, to present himselfe vnto his souldiers, vntill such time that Agrippa brought him newes of the victorie he had obtained of his enemies. But concerning yong Marius, who committed a greater errour (for on the day of his last battel against Sylla, after he had marshalled his armie, and given the word or signall of the battell) he lay downe in the shadow vnder a tree, a while to rest himselfe, and fell so fast asleep, that he could hardly be awaked with the rout and flight of his men, having seen no part of the fight, they say, it was because he was so exceedingly aggravated with travell, and over-tired with wearinesse, and want of sleep, that nature was overcome, and could no longer endure. And touching this point, Phisitians may consider; whether sleep be so necessarie, that our life must needs depend of-it: For we find that Perseus King of Macedon, prisoner at Rome, being kept from sleep, was made to die; but Plinie aleadgeth, that some have lived a long time without any sleep at all. And Herodotus reporteth, There are Nations, where men sleep and wake by halfe yeares. And those that write the life of Epimenides the wise, affirme, that he slept the conti­nuall space of seaven and fiftie yeares.

The five and fortieth Chapter.

THere hapned divers rare accidents, and remarkable chances in our battell of Dreux: but those who do not greatly favour the reputation of the Duke of Guise, doe boldly aledge, that he cannot be excused, to have made a stand, and temporised with the forces he commaunded, whilst the Lord Constable of France, Generall of the Armie, was engaged and suppressed with the enemies Artillerie, and that it had been better for him, to hazard himselfe, to charge the enemie flankwise, then by expecting any aduantage, to have him come behind him, to suffer so reprochfull an overthrow, and so shamefull a losse. But omit­ting what the event thereof witnessed, he that shall without passion debate the matter, shall easilie (in my conceit) confesse, that the ayme and drift, not onely of a Captaine, but of every particular Souldier, ought chiefly to respect a victorie in great: And that no parti­cular occurrences, of what consequence soever, or what interest may depend on them, should never divert-him from that point. Philopoemen in an encounter with Machanidas, having sent before, a strong troupe of Archers, and good marke men, to begin the skirmish: and the enemie, after he had put them to route and dis-ranked them, ammusing himselfe in mainly pursuing them, and following the victorie alongst the maine battell, where Philo­poemen was, although his souldiers were much moved and offended to see their fellowes put to the worst, he could not be induced to bouge from his place, nor make head against his enemie, to succour his men; but rather, having suffered them to be defeated, and cut in pieces before his face, began then to charge his enemies in the battalion of their Infanterie, when he perceived them forsaken of their horsemen: And albeit they were Lacedemoni­ans, forasmuch as he charged them, at what time (supposing to have gained the day) they began to disorder themselves, he easilie overcame them; which done, he pursued Macha­nidas. This case, is cousin-german vnto that of the Duke of Guise. In that sharpe-bloodie battell of Agesilaus against the Boeotians, which Xenophon (who was there present) saith, To have beene the whottest and rudest, that ever he had seene: Agesilaus refused the advan­tage, which fortune presented him, to let the battalion of the Boeotians passe, and to charge them behind, what certaine victorie soever he saw likely to follow the same, esteeming that it were rather skill then valour, and to shew his prowesse, and matchlesse-haughtie courage, chose rather to charge them in the front of their forces: But what followed? He was well beaten, and himselfe sore-hurt, and in the end compelled to leave his enterprise, and em­brace the resolution, which in the beginning he had refused, causing his men to open them­selves, to give passage vnto that torrent of the Boeotians; who when they were past­through, perceiving them to march in disaray, as they who perswaded themselves to be out of all danger, he pursued them, and charged them flank-wise. All which notwithstan­ding, he could never put to route, or force them run-away, for they, orderly, and faire and softly made their retreit, ever shewing their face, vntill such time as they got safely into their houlds and trenches.

The sixe and fortieth Chapter.

WHat diversitie soever there-be in hearbs, all are shuffled-vp together vnder the name of a sallade. Even so, vpon the consideration of names, I will heer huddlevpa gallymafrie of diverse articles. Every severall nation hath some names, which, I wot not how [Page 149] are sometimes taken in ill part, as with vs Iacke, Hodge, Tom, Will, Bat, Benet, and so forth. Item, it seemeth that in the genealogies of Princes, there are certaine names fatally affected; as Ptolomeus with the Aegyptians, Henries in England, Charles in France, Baldwins in Flanders, and Williams in our ancient Aqustanie, whence some say came the name of Gui [...]nne; which is but a cold invention: As if in Plato himselfe there were not some as harsh and ill-founding. Item, it is an idle matter, yet neverthelesse, by reason of the strangenesse, worthie the memo­rie, and recorded by an oculare witnesse, that Henrie Duke of Normandie sonne to Henrie the second King of England, making a great feast in France, the assemblie of the Nobilitie was so great, that for pastimes sake, being, by the resemblance of their names, divided into seve­rall companies: in the first were found a hundred and ten Kinghts sitting at one table, and all called Williams; besides private Gentlemen and servants. It is as pleasant to distribute the tables by the names of the assistants, as it was vnto Geta the Emperor, who would have all his messes or dishes served-in at his table orderly according to the first letters of their names; As for example, those that began with P. as pig, pie, pike, puddings, pouts, porke, pancakes, &c. were all served in together; and so of all the rest. Item, it is a common saying, That it is good to have a good name: As much to say, good credit, or good reputation. Yet verely it is verie commodious to have a well-sounding and smooth name, and which is easie to be pro­nounced, and facile to be remembred: For, Kings, Princes, Lords, and Magistrates know and remember vs the better by them, and will not so soone forget-vs. Marke but of those that serve and follow-vs, whether we doe not more ordinarily commaund, and sooner employ such, whose names come readier to our tongue, or memorie. I have seene our King Henrie the second, who could never [...] it on the right name of a Gentleman of Gascoigne; and did ever call a Ladie waiting on the Queene, by the generall surname of hir house, because that of hir father was so harsh, and hard to be remembred. And Socrates saith, It ought to be a fa­thers speciall care, to give his children good and easie-sounding names. Item, it is reported, that the foundation of our Ladie the great at Poitiers had this beginning; A licentious yoong man having his dwelling house where the Church now standeth, had one night gotten a wench to lie with him, who so soone as she came to bed, he demaunded hir name, who an­swered, Marie: The yong man hearing that name, was sodainly so strucken with a motive of religion, and an awefull respect vnto that sacred name, of the virgin Marie, the blessed mother of our Saviour and Redeemer, that he did not only presently put hir away from him, but reformed all the remainder of his succeeding life: And that in consideration of this miracle, there was first erected a Chappell in the place where this yong mans house stood, consecrated vnto that holy name, and afterward the faire great church, which yet continu­eth. This vocale and auricular correction, and so full of devotion, strucke right vnto his soule. This other following, of the same kind, insinuated itselfe by the corporall sences. Py­thagoras being in companie with two yong men, whom he heard complot and consult (being somewhat heated with feasting and drinking) to go and ravish a chast-house, commaunded immediatly the minstrels to change their tune; and so by a solemne, grave, severe, and spon­daicall kind of musicke, did sweetly inchaunt allay, and in-trance their rash­violent▪ and law­lesse lust. Item, shall nor succeeding posteritie say, that our moderne reformation hath been exact and delicate, to have not onely oppugned and resisted errors and vices, and filled the world with devotion, humilitie, obedience, peace, and every other kind of vertue, but even to have combated their ancient names of baptisme, Charles, Lewis, Francis, to people the world with Methusalem, Ezechiel, Malachie, much better feeling of a lively faith? A Gentle­man my neighbour, esteeming the commodities of ancient times in regard of our daies, for­got not to aledge the fiercenesse and magnificence of the names of the Nobilitie of those times, as Don Grumedan▪ Quedragan, and Agesilan: And that, but to heare them sounded, a man might easilie perceive; they had been other manner of men; then Peter, Gui [...]o [...], or Mi­chell. Item; I commend and am much beholding to Iames Amiot; in the course of a French oration of his to have still kept the full ancient Latin names, without disguising or changing them, to give them a new-French cadence. At the first they seemed somewhat harsh vnto the Reader; but now, by reason of the credit, which his Plutarke hath deservedly gotten amongst-vs, custome hath removed all strangenesse from-vs. I have often wished that those who write histories in Latin, would leave-vs our names whole, and such as they are: For, altering Va [...]demont, to Vallemontanus, and metamorphosing them, by suring them to the [Page 150] Graecian or Latin tongue, we know not what to make of them, and are often at a non-plus. To conclude my discourse; It is an ill custome, and of exceeding bad consequence in our countrie of France, to call every man by the name of his Towne, Mannor, Hamlet, or Lord­ship, as the thing that doth most confound houses, and bring sur-names out of knowledge. A cadet or yonger-brother of a good house, having had for his appanage a Lordship, by whose name he hath beene knowne and honored, cannot well forsake and leave the same ten yeares after his death; His Lord-ship commeth vnto a stranger, who doth the like: Ghesse then where we are, and how we shall doe to come to the perfect knowledge of these men. Wee need not goe far for other examples, but looke into our Royall house, where so many partages, so many sur-names, and so many severall titles have so encumbred-vs, that the originall of the stocke is vtterly lost. There is so much libertie in these mutations, that even in my time, I have seen no man nor woman advanced by fortune vnto some ex­traordinarie preferment, that hath not immediatly had adjoyned vnto him or hir Genealo­gicall titles, new and vnknowne to their fathers, and that hath not beene engraffed into some noble stocke or familie. And as good lucke serveth, the basest vpstart, and most obscure houses are most apt vnto adulteration, and falsification. How many privat Gentlemen have [...]e in France, which according to their accompt, and blazoning of their gentrie, are of the royall blood or race? I beleeve more then others. Was it not pretilie said, and with a good grace, by one of my friends? There was a great companie bandied together about a quarell which a Gentleman had with another, who in verie truth had some prerogative of titles, ho­nours, and alliances aboue the common sort of Nobilitie; vpon which word of his prero­gative, every one seeking to equall himselfe vnto him, alledged, some one of spring, some another, some the resemblance of his name, some of his armes, othersome an old far-fetcht pedigree, and the meanest of them to be the great grand-child of some King beyond the Seas. When they came all to dinner, this man whom hitherto they had all followed, in liew of taking his wonted place, making low-lowting reverences, went to the lowest end of the board, entreating the companie to hold him excused, that through rash-vnadvisednesse he had hitherto lived with them companion-like, but now being lately enformed of their right qualities, he began to know them according to their ancient degrees, and that it did not duly belong vnto him to sit above so many Princes. And after he had acted his play, he began to raile vpon them with a thousand injuries; saying thus vnto them. For the love of God con­tent your selves, with what your forefathers have been contented, and with the state whereto God hath called-vs: we have sufficient if we can maintaine it well, let-vs not disparage the fortune and condition of our predecessors; and reject-we these fond imaginations, which can not faile any man, whatsoever he be, that is so impudent as to alledge them. Crests, Armes, and Coates have no more certaintie then surnames. I beare Azure semè of trefoiles, a Lions Paw in faece, Or, armed Gules. What priviledge hath this Coate, that it should for ever continue particularly to my house? A sonne in law will transferre the same into an other familie: Some silly-vpstart purchaser of Armes will make it his chiefe coate. There is nothing wherein meet so many alterations, and so much confusion.

But this consideration draweth me perforce vnto an other field. Let vs somewhat nar­rowly search-into, and for Gods sake consider, on what foundation we ground this glorie and reputation, for which the world is turned topsie-turvie. On what doe we establish this transitorie renowne, which with so great mind-possessing toyle, and industrie we seeke and gape-after? In fine, it is Peter or William, that beareth the same (marke-it well Reader) and to whom it belongeth. Is not hope a couragious facultie, which in a mortall subject, and in a moment, seekes to vsurp infinite, and immensitie, and to replenish his masters indigence with the possession of al things he can imagine or desire, before it would? Nature hath given vs a pleasant joy to play withall in that. Is it Peter or William. And what is that but a word for all mouths? or three or foure dashes of a pen, first, so easie to be varied, as I would willingly aske those, whom the honour of so many victories concerneth, or whether Guesquin, or Gles­quin, or Gueaquin? yet were there more apparance heer, then in Lucian that Ϲ. did sue T. for,

[Page 151]The wager goeth deepe: The question is, which letter must be paide with so many sieges, battels, hurts, emprisonments, and services done vnto the Crowne of France by hir ever-re­nowmed Constable. Nicholas Denis [...]t hath had no care but of the letters of his name, and hath changed all the contexture of them, there-out to frame the Earle of Alsinois, whom he hath honored and presented with the glorie of his Poesie and Painting. And Su [...]tonius the Historian hath loved but the sense of his owne, and having taken away Lènis, which was his fathers surname, hath left Tranquillus successor of his compositions reputation. Who would believe, Captaine Bayard hath no honor, but that which he hath borrowed from the acts of Peter Terraill? And that Antonio Escalin (even before his eies) suffered Captaine P [...]lin, and the Baron of La Garde▪ to steal so many Navigations, voyages, and attempts, both by sea and land from him? Secondarily, they are dashes, and trickes of the pen, common vnto a thousand men. How many are there in all races or families both of one name and surname? And how many in divers families, races, ages, and countries? Historie hath knowne three Socrates, five Platoes, eight Aristotles, seaven Xenophons, twenty Demetrius, twenty Theo­dores: besides which, imagine how many came not to her knowledge. Who letteth my horse boy to call himselfe Pompey the Great? But after all, what meanes, what devises, are there that annex vnto my horse keeper deceased, or to that other who had his head cut-off in Aegypt, or that joyne vnto them this glorified, and far-renowmed word, and these pen­dashes, so much honored, that they may thereby advantage themselves?

What feeling motion of revenge have the two companions in chiefe valor amongst men; Epaminondas of that glorious verse, which so many ages since is so common in our mouthes for him?

And Affrican [...] of that other:

Those that survive are tickled with the pleasure of these words, and by them solicited with jelousie and desire, doe presently without consideration transmit by fantasie this their proper motion of revenge vnto the deceased; and with a fond-deceiving hope perswade themselves, when their turne commeth to be capable of-it. God he knowes-it, neverthelesse,

The seven and fortieth Chapter.

IT is even as, that verse saith,

There is law sufficient to speake every where, both pro and contra; As for example:

He that shall take this part, and with our men go about, to make that over-sight prevaile, that we did not lately pursue our fortune at Montcontour: Or he that shall accuse the King of Spaine, who could not vse the advantage he had against-vs at Saint Quintin, may say this fault to have proceeded from a mind drunken with his good fortune, and from a courage ful-gorged with the beginning of good lucke; looseth the taste how to encrease-it, being already hindred from digesting what he hath conceived of-it: He hath his hands full, and can not take hold any more: Vnworthie that ever fortune should cast so great a good into his lap: For, what profit hath he of- [...]t, if notwithstanding, he give his enemie leasure and meanes to recover himselfe? What hope may one have, that he will once more adventure to charge these re-enforced and re-united forces, and new armed with despite and venge­ance, that durst-not, or knew-not how to pursue them being dismaied and put to rout?

But to conclude, what can he expect better, then what he hath lately lost? It is not, as at Fence, where the number of venies given, gets the victorie: So long as the enemie is on foote, a man is newly to begin. It is no victorie, except it end the warre. In that conflict where Caesar had the worse, neer [...]he Citie of Oricum, he reprochfully said vnto Pompeis Souldiers, That he had vtterly been overthrowne, had their Captaine knowne how to conquer: and paide him home after another fashion when it came to his turne. But why may not a man also hold the contrarie? That [...]t is the effect of an insatiate and rash-headlong minde, not to know how to limit or periode his covetousnesse: That it is an abusing of Gods favours, to go about to make them loose the measure he hath prescribed them, and that a-new to cast himselfe into danger after the victory, is once [...]ore to remit the same vnto the mercie of fortune: That one of the chief­est policies in militarie profession, is, not to drive his enemie vnto dispaire. Sill [...] and Marius in the sociall warre, having discomfited the Marsians, seeing one squadron of them yet on foote, which through dispaire, like furious beasts were desperately comming vpon them, could not be induced to stay or make head against them. If the fervor of Monsieur de Foix had not drewne-him over rashly and moodily to pursue the straglers of the victorie at Ra­ve [...]na, he had not blemished the same with his vntimely death; yet did the fresh-bleeding memory of his example serve to preserve the Lord of A [...]gusen from the like inconvenience, at Serisoles. It is dangerous to assaile a man, whom you have bereaved of all other meanes to escape or shift for himselfe, but by his weapons: for, necessitie is a violent school-mistris, and which teacheth strange lessons: Gravissimi sunt m [...]rsu [...] irritatae necessicatis. No biting so grievous, as that of necessitie provoked and enraged.

And that is the reason, why [...] empeached the King of Lacedemo [...] who came from gaining of a victory against the Mantinaeans, from going to charge a thousand Argians, that were escaped whole from the discom [...]ture; but rather to let them passe with al libertie, lest he should come to make triall of provoked & despited vertue, through and by ill fortune. Clodo­mire king of Aquitaine, after his victorie, pursuing Gondemar king of B [...]rgundie, vanquished and running away, forced him to make a stand, and make head againe, but his vnadvised wil­fulnesse deprived him of the fruit of the victorie, for he dyed in the action. Likewise he that should chuse, whether it were best to keep his souldiers richly and sumptuously armed, or only for necessitie, should seeme to yeeld in favour of the first, whereof was Sertorious, Philo­poemen. Brutus, Caesar, and others, vrging that it is ever a spur to [...] and glorie, for a soul­dier to see himself gorgiously attired, and richly armed, & an occasion to yeeld himselfe more [Page 153] obstinate to sight, having the care to save his armes, as his goods and inheritance. A reason (saith Xenophon) why the Asiatikes carried with them, when they went to warres their wives and Concubines, with all their jewels and chiefest wealth. And might also encline to the other side, which is, that a man should rather remoove from his souldier, all care to preserve himselfe, than to encrease-it vnto him▪ for, by that meanes he shall doubly feare to hazard or engage himselfe, seeing these rich spoiles do rather encrease an earnest desire of victorie in the enemie: and it hath been observed, that the said respect hath sometimes wonderfully encouraged the Romans against the Samnites. Antiochus shewing the Armie, he prepared against them, gorgeously accountred with all pompe and statelinesse, vnto Hanniball, and de­manding of him, whether the Romanes would be contented with-it: yea verily, answered the other, they will be verie well pleased with-it: They must needs be so, were they never so cove­tous. Licurgus forbad his Souldiers, not only all maner of sumptuousnesse, in their equipage, but also to vncase or strip their enemies, when they overcame them, willing, as he said, that frugalitie & povertie should shine with the rest of the battell. Both at sieges, and else-where, where occasion brings vs neere the enemie, we freely give our souldiers libertie, to brave, to disdaine, and injurie him with all maner of reproaches: And not without apparance of rea­son; for, it is no small matter, to take from them all hope of grace and composition, in pre­senting vnto them, that there is no way left to expect-it, from-him, whom they have so egre­giously outraged, and that there is no remedy left but from victorie. Yet had Ʋitelluis but bad successe in that; for, having to deale with Otho, weaker in his Souldiers valour, and of­long disaccustomed from warre, and effeminated through the delights and pleasures of the Citie, himselfe in the end set them so on fire with his reproachsull and injurious words, vp­brayding them with their pusilanimitie and faint-hartednesse, and with the regret of their Ladies, banquettings and sensualities, which they had left at Rome, that he put them into hart againe, which no perswasions or other means could do before; and thereby drew them, whom nought could have driven, to fight, and fall vpon him. And verilie, when they are injuries that touch a man to the quicke, they shall easilie vrge him, who was verie backward to fight for his Kings quarrell, to be verie forward in his owne cause or interest. If a man but consider of what consequence the preservation, and importance, the safetie of a generall is in an Armie, and how the enemies chiefest ayme, is at the fairest marke, which is the head, from which all other depend, it seemeth that that counsell can not be doubted of, which by sundrie great Chieftaines we have seene put in practise, which is, in the beginning of the fight, or in the furie of the battell, to disguise themselves. Notwithstanding the inconveni­ence a man may by this meanes incurre, is no lesse then that mischiefe, which a man seeketh to avoid: For the Captaine being vnseene and vnknowne of his Souldiers, the courage they take by his example, and the hart they keep by his presence, is therewithall empaired and diminished; and loosing the knowne ensignes, and accustomed markes of their Leader, they either deeme him dead, or dispairing of any good successe, to be fled. And touching experience, we sometimes see-it to favour the one, and sometimes the other partie. The acci­dent of Pirrhus in the battell he had against the Consull Levinus in Italie, serveth vs for both vses: For, by concealing himselfe vnder the armes of Demogacles, and arming him with his owne, indeed he saved his life, but was in great danger to fall into the other mischiefe, and loose the day. Alexander, Caesar, Lueullus, loved (at what time they were to enter fight) to arme and attire themselves with the richest armes, and garish clothes they had, and of parti­cular bright-shining colours. Agis, Agesilaus, and that great G [...]lippus, contrarie, would ever goe to warres meanly accou [...]red, and without any imperiall ornament. Among other re­proaches, that Pompey is charged withall in the battell of Pharsalia, this is one speciall, that he idlely lingred with his Armie, expecting what his enemie would attempt; forasmuch as that (I will heare borrow the verie words of Plutarke, which are of more consequence then mine) weakneth the violence, that running giveth the first blowes, and therewithall remoo­veth the charging of the Combattants one against another, which more, then any other thing is wont to fill them with furie and impetuositie, when with vehemence they come to enter-shocke one another, augmenting their courage by the crie and running; and in a maner alayeth and quaileth the heat of the Souldiers: Loe-here what he saith concerning this. But had Caesar lost, who might not also have said, that contrariwise the strongest and firmest situ­ation, is that, wherein a man keeps his stand without budging, and that who is settled in his [Page 154] march, closing, and against any time of need, sparing his strength in himselfe, hath a great advantage against him, that is in motion and disordered, and that running hath alreadie consumed part of his breath? Moreover, that an armie being a bodie composed of so many severall parts, it is impossible it should in such furie advance it selfe with so just a march, and proportioned a motion, and not breake and dis-ranke, or at least alter hir ordinance, and that the nimblest be not grapling before his fellowes may help-him. In that drearie battell of the two Persian brethren, Clearchus the Lacedemonian, who commanded the Graecians that followed Cycus his faction, led them faire and gently without any hast-making to their charges; but when he came within fistie paces of his enemies, he bad them with all speed to run vnto it; hoping by the shortnesse of the distance to manage their order and direct their breath; in the meane time giving them the advantage of the impetuositie, both for their bo­dies, and for their shooting-armes. Others have ordered this doubt in their armie after this maner: If your enemies headlong run vpon you, stay for them and bouge not: If they without stirring stay for you, run with furie vpon them.

In the passage which the Emperour Charles the fift made into Provence, our king Francis the first, stood a good while vpon this choice; whether it were best, by way of prevention, to go and meet with him in Italie, or to stay his comming into France: and albeit he considered what an advantage it is, for one to preserve his house from the troubles and mischiefes that warre brings with it, to the end that possessing hir whole strength, it may continually in all times of need, store him with money, and supplie him with all other helps; and considering how the necessitie of direfull warre, doth dailie enforce a Generall to make spoile of goods, and waste the Countrie, which cannot well be done in our own goods & countrie: and if the countriman doth not as patiently indure this ravage at his friends hands, as at his enemies, so as seditions may ensue amongst our owne factions, and troubles among our friends: That licence to rob and spoile, which in his Countrie may not be tolerated, is a great furtherauce in a Souldier, and makes him the more willing, to endure the miseries and toylings that fol­low warre: And what a hard matter it is to keep the Souldier in office and hart, who hath no other hope of profit, but his bare pay, and is so neere his wife, his children, his friends, and his home: That he who layeth the cloth, is ever put to the greatest charges: That there is more plea­sure in assailing than in defending: And that the apprehension of a battell-lost in our owne home and entrailes, is so violent, that it may easily snake the whole frame, and distemper the whole bodie. Seeing there is no passion so contagious, as that of feare, nor so easie apprehen­ded and taken a-trust, or doth more furiously possesse all parts of man: And that the Cities or Townes, which have either heard the bustling noise of the Tempest, or seene the spar­kles of this all consuming fire at their gates, or have perhaps received their captaines woun­ded, their Citizens pursued, and their Souldiers spoiled, and all out of breath, if they be not more then obstinately-constant, it is a thousand to one, if in that brunt of furie, they do not headlong cast themselves into some desperate resolution: yet did he conclude and chose this resolve for the best. First to revoke his forces, he had beyond the Mountaines in Italie, and to stay his enemies approches. For, he might on the contrarie part imagine, that being in his owne Countrie, and amidst good friends, he had the better leasure to re-enforce his decayed forces, and more oportunitie, to strengthen Townes, to munite Castles, to store Rivers with all necessaries they wanted, and to keep all passages at his devotion, which done, all the waies should be open for him, and might by them have all maner of victuals, money, and other hab [...]lements of warre brought-him, in safety, and without convoy: that he should have his subjects so much the more affectionate vnto him, by how much nearer they should see the danger: That having so many Cities, Townes, Houlds, Castles, and Barres for his secu­ritie, he might at all times, according to apportunitie and advantage, appoint and give law vnto the fight: And if he were pleased to temporize, whilest he tooke his ease, kept his forces whole, and maintained himselfe in safety, he might see his enemie consume & waste himselfe, by the difficulties which daily must necessarily assault, environ and combate-him, as he who should be engaged in an enemie-countrie and foe-land; Where he should have nothing, nor meet with any thing, either before, or behind him, or of any side; that did not offer him con­tinuall warre: no way nor meanes to refresh, to ease or give his armie elbow-roome, if any sicknesse or contagion should come amongst his men; nor shelter to lodge his hurt and maymed Souldiers: where neither monie, munition, nor victuals might come vnto him, but [Page 155] at the swords point; where he should never have leasure to take any rest, or breath; where he should have no knowledge of places, passages, woods, foords, rivers, or countrie, that might defend him from ambuscados, or surprises: And if he should vnfortunately chance to loose a battell, no hope to save, or meanes to re-unite the reliques of his forces. And there want not examples to strengthen both sides. Scipio found-it better for him to invade his enemies countrie of Affrica, then to defend his owne, and fight with him in Italie, where he was, wherein he had good successe. But contrariwise, Hanniball, in the same warre wrought his owne overthrow, by leaving the conquest of a forraine countrie, for to go and defend his owne. The Athenians having left the enemie in their owne land, for to passe into Sicilie, had verie ill successe, and were much contraried by fortune: whereas Agathocles King of Siracusa prospered and was favoured by her, what time he passed into Affrica, and left the warre on soote in his owne countrie. And we are accustomed to say with some shew of rea­son, that especially in matters of warre, the events depend (for the greatest part) on fortune; which seldome will yeeld, or never subject her-selfe vnto our discourse or wisedome, as say these ensuing verses.

But if it be well taken, it seemeth that our counsels and deliberations, doe as much depend of her; and that fortune doth also engage our discourses and consultations in her trouble and vncertaintie. We reason rashly, and discourse at randon, saith Timeus in Plato: For, even as we, so have our discourses great participation with the temeritie of hazard.

The eight and fortieth Chapter.

BEhold, I am now become a Gramarian, I, who never learn't tongue but by way of roat, and that yet know knot what either Adjective, Conjunctive, or Ablative meaneth. As far as I remember, I have sometimes heard-say, that the Romanes had certaine horses, which they called Funales, or Dextrarios, which on the right hand were led-by as spare horses, to take them fresh at any time of need: And thence it commeth, that we call hor­ses of service Destriers. And our ancient Romanes doe ordinarily say, to Adexter, in steed of, to accompanie. They also called Desultorios equos, certaine horses that were so taught, that mainly-running with all the speede they had, joyning sides to one another, without either bridle or saddle, the Roman gentlemen armed at all assayes, in the middest of their running-race, would cast and recast themselves from one to an other horse. The Numi­dian men at armes, were wont to have a second spare-horse led by hand, that in the greatest furie of the battell, they might shift and change horse: Quibus, desultorum in modum, binos Liv bel pun. dec. 3. l. 3. trahentibus equos, inter acerrimam soepe pugnam in recentem equum ex fesso armatis transultare, mos erat. Tanta velocitas ipsis, támque docile equorum genus. Whose maner was, as if they had been vaulters, leading two horses with them in armour to leap from their tired horse to the fresh­one, even in the hottest of the fight. So great agilitie was in themselves, and so apt to be taught was the race of their horses. There are many horses found, that are taught to helpe their master, to run vpon any man shall offer to draw a naked sword vpon them; furiously to leap vpon any man, both with feete to strike, and with teeth to bite, that shall affront them; but that for the most part they rather hurt their friends then their enemies. Consi­dering [Page 156] also, that if they once be grapled, you can not easilie take them-off, and you must needs stand to the mercie of their combat. Artibius, Generall of the Persian armie had ve­rie ill lucke to be mounted vpon a horse fashioned in this schoole, at what time he sought man to man against Onesilus King of Salamis; for, he was the cause of his death, by reason the shield-bearer or squire of Onesilus cut him with a faulchon betweene the two shoulders, even as he was leaping vpon his master. And if that, which the Italians report be true, that in the battell of Fornovo. King Charles his horse with kicking, winching, and flying, rid both his master and himselfe from the enemies that encompast-him, to dismount or kill him, and without that, he had beene lost: He committed himselfe to a great hazard, and scap't a narrow scowring. The Mammalukes boast, that they have the nimblest and readiest hor­ses of any men at armes in the world. That both by nature they are instructed to discerne, and by custome taught to distinguish their enemie, on whom they must leap and wince with feet, and bite with teeth, according to the voice their master speaketh, or rider giveth them. And are likewise taught to take vp from the ground, lances, darts, or any other weapons with their mouths, and as he commandeth to present them to their rider. It is said of Ca­sar, and of Pompey the Great, that amongst their many other excellent qualities, they were also most cunning and perfect horsemen; and namely of Caesar, that in his youth being mounted vpon a horse, and without any bridle, he made him run a full cariere, make a so­daine stop, and with his hands behind his backe performe what ever can be expected of an excellent readie horse. And even as nature was pleased to make both him and Alexander two matchlesse miracles in militarie profession, so would you say, she hath also endevoured, yea, enforced herselfe to arme them extraordinarily; For, all men know, that Alexanders horse called Bucephalus, had a head shaped like vnto that of a bull; that he suffered no man to get-on and sit-him, but his master; that none could wealde and manage him but he; what honours were done him after his death, all know, for he had a Citie erected in his name. Caesar likewise had another, who had his fore-feet like vnto a mans, with hoofes cloven in forme of fingers, who could never be handled, drest, or mounted but by Caesar, who when he died, dedicated his image to the Goddesse Venus. If I be once on horse-backe, I alight verie vnwillingly; for, it is the seat I like best, whether I be sound or sicke. Plato commendeth-it to be availefu [...] for health: And Plinie affirmeth the same to be healthfull for the slomacke, and for the ioynts And sithence we be falne into this subject, let vs a little sollow-it I pray you. We read of a law in Xenophon, by which all men that either had or were able to keep a horse, were expresly forbidden to travell and goe a foote. Trogus and Iust [...]us report, that the Parthians were not onely accustomed to warre on horse-backe, but also to dispatch all their businesse, and negotiate their affaires both publike and private; as to bat­gaine, to buy, to sell, to parlie, to meet▪ to entertaine one another, and to converse and walke together; and that the chiefest difference betweene free men and servants amongst them, is, that the first ever ride, and the other goe alwaies on-foote. An institution first devi­sed by King Cyrus. There are many examples in the Romane histories (and Suetonius doth more particularly note it in Caesar) of Captaines that commanded their horsemen to alight, whensoever, by occasion, they should be vrged vnto it, thereby to remove all maner of hope from their Souldiers to save themselves by flight, and for the advantage they hoped-for in this maner of fight: Quo haud dubiè superat Romanus Wherein vndantedly the Romanes Liv. dee. 1. li. 3. & 7. is superiour to all saith Titus Livius: yet shall we see, that the first provision, and chiefe meanes they vsed to bridle rebellion amongst their new conquered nations, was to deprive them of all armes and horses. Therefore find we so often in Caesar; Arma proferri, i [...]menta Cas. comment. lib. 7. produci, obsides dari iubet: He commands all their armour should be brought forth, all their cat­tell should be driven out, and hostages should be delivered. The great Turke doth not permit at this day any Christian or Iew, to have or keepe any horse for himselfe, throughout all his large Empire. Our ancestors, and especially at what time we had warres with the English, in all solemne combats, or set battels, would (for the most part) alight from their horses, and fight on foote, because they would not adventure to hazard so precious a thing as their honour and life, but on the trust of their owne proper strength, and vigour of their vn­danted courage, and confidence of their limbes. Let Chrisanthes in Xenephon say what he pleaseth: whosoever fighteth on horse-backe, engageth his valour, and hazardeth his for­tune on that of his horse; his hurts, his stumbling, his death, drawes your life and fortune [Page 157] into consequence, if he chance to startle or be afraide, then are you induced to doubt or feare: if to leape forward, then to become rash and fond-hardie: if he want a good mouth or a timely spurre, your honour is bound to answer for-it. And therefore do not I finde-it strange, that those combats were more firme and furious, then those which now we see foughten on horse▪ backe.

Their battels are seene much better compact and contrived: They are now but bicke­rings and routs: primus clamor atque impetus rem decernit. The first shoute and shocke makes an end of the matter. And the thing we call to helpe vs, and keepe vs company in so great and hazardous an adventure, ought as much as possible may be, lie still in our disposition and absolute power. A I would counsell a gentleman to chuse the shortest weapons, and such as he may best assure himselfe-of. It is most apparant, that a man may better assure himselfe of a sworde he holdeth in his hand, then of a bullet shot out of a pistoll, to which belong so many severall parts, as powder, stone, locke, snap-hanse, barrell, stoke, scowring-piece, and many others, whereof if the least faile, or chance to breake, and be distempered, it is able to overthrow, to hazard, or miscarry your fortune. Seldome doth that blow come or light on the marke it is aymed-at, which the ayre doth carry.

But concerning that weapon, I shall more amplie speake of-it, where I will make a com­parison betweene ancient and moderne armes: And except the astonishment and frighting of the eare, which nowadaies is growne so familiar amongest men, that none doth greatly feare-it; I thinke it to be a weapon of small effect, and hope to see the vse of-it abolished. That wherewith the Italians were wont to throw, with sire in-it, was more frightfull and terrour-moving. They were accustomed to name a kinde of [...]avelin, Phalarica, armed at one end with an yron pike of three foote long, that it might pierce an armed man-through, which lying in the field they vsed to lanch or hurle with the hand, and sometimes to shoote out of certaine eng [...]nes, for to defend besieged places: the staffe whereof being wreath'd a­bout with hempor flax, all pitched and oiled over, flying in theayre, would soone be set-a­fre, and lighting vpon any body or target, deprived the partie [...]t therewith, of all vse of weapons or limbes: Me thinkes neverthelesse, that comming to graple, it might aswell hin­d [...] the assailant, as trouble the assailed, and that the ground strewed with such burning truncheons, might in a pell-mell-consusion produce a common incommoditie

They had also other meanes, to the vse of which, custome enured them, and that be rea­son of inexperience seeme incredible to-vs; wherewith they supplied the defect of our pow­der and bullets. They with such fury darted their Piles, and with such force hurled their iavelins, that they often pierced two targets and two armed men through, as it were with a spit. They hit as sure and as farre with their slings, as with any other shot: Saxis globosis fun­da, Liu. dec. 4. l. 8. mare apertum incessentes: coronas modici circuli magno ex intervallo loci assueti traijcere: non capita modò hostium vulnerabant, sed quem locum destinassent. While they were boyes, with round stones in a sling, making ducks and drakes vpon the sea, they accustomed to cast through round marks of small compasse a great distance off: whereby they, not onely hit and hurt the heads of their enemies, but would strike any place they aymed-at. Their battering or murthering pieces represented, as well the effect, as the clattering and thundering noise of ours: ad ictus moenium cum terribili sonitu editos, pavor & trepidatio coepit. At the batterie of the walles made wilk a terrible noise, [Page 158] feare and trembling beganne to attach them within. The Gaules our ancient forefathers in A­sia, hated mortally such treacherous and flying weapons, as they that were taught to fight hand to hand, and with more courage. Non tam patentibus plagis moventur, vbila [...]gior quam Liv. dec. 4. l. 8. altior plaga est, etiam gloriosius se pugnare putant; i [...]demquum acul [...]us sagitiae aut glandis abdit [...] introrsus tenui vulnere in speciem vri [...]tum in rabiem & p [...]dorem tam paruae periment is pestis versi, prosternunt corpora humi. They are not so much moued with wide gashes, where the wound is more broad then it is deepe, there they thinke, that they fight with more ravery; but when the s [...]ing of an arrow or a bullet, with a small wound to shew gals them inwardly, then falling into rage and shame that so slight a hurt should kill them, they cast their bodies on the ground.

A modell or picture very neere vnto an harquebusada. The ten thousand Graecians in their long-lingring, and farre-famous retreate, encountered with a certaine nation, that ex­ceedingly much endomaged them with stiffe strong and great blowes, and so long arrowes, that taking them-vp, they might throw them after the maner of a dart, & with them pierce a target and an armed man through and through. The engines which Dionysius invented in Si­racusa, to shoote and cast mightie big arrowes, or rather timber-pieces, & huge-great stones, so farre and with such force, did greatly represent, and come very neere our moderne inven­tions. We may not also forget, the pleasant seate, which one named master Peter Pol, do­ctor in divinitie vsed to sit vpon his mule, who as Monstrelet reporteth, was wont to ride vp and downe the streetes of Paris, ever sitting sideling, as women vse. He also saith in ano­ther place, that the Gascoines had certaine horses so fiece and terrible, taught to turne and stop sodainely in running, whereat the French, the Piccards, the Flemmings, and Braban­tins (as they who were never accustomed to see the like) were greatly amazed, and thought it a wonder: I vse his very words. Caelar speaking of those of Swethen, saith, In any skir­mish or fight on horse-backe, they often alight to combate on foote, having so trayned and taught their horses, that so long as the fight lasteth, they never bouge from their masters side, that if neede require, they may sodainely mount-vp againe: and according to their naturall custome, there is nothing accounted more base or vile, then to vse saddles or bar­dels, and they greatly contemne and scorne such as vse them: So that a few of them feare not to encounter with a troupe farre exceeding them in number. That which I have other times wondered-at, to see a horse [...]a [...]ioned and taught, that a man having but a wande in his hand, and his bridle loose hanging over his eares, might at his pleasure manage, and make him turne, stop, runne, cariere, trot gallop, and what ever else may be expected of an excel­lent ready horse, was common amongst the Massilians, who never vsed either bridle or sadle.

Equisine fraenis, deformis ipse cursus, rigida ceruice & extent [...] capite currentium: The horses being without bridles, their course is ill fauoured, they running with a stiffe necke, and out-stretch't head (like a roasted Pigg:) Alphonsus King of Spaine, that first established the order of Knights, called the order of the Bend or skarfe, amongst other rules devised this one that none of them, vpon paine to forfait a marke of silver, for every time offending, should ever ride either mule or mulet; as I lately read in Guevaras epistles, of which whosoever called them his golden epistles, gave a iudgement farre different from mine. The Courtier saith, That before his time, it was counted a great shame in a gentleman to be seene riding vpon a mule: Whereas the Abyssines are of a contrary opinion, who accordingly as they are advanced, to places of honor, or dignitie, about their Prince, called Prester-Iohn, so doe they more and more affect in signe of pompe and state, to ride vpon large-great mules. Xenophon re­porteth, that the Assirians were ever wont to keepe their horses fast-tied in fetters or gyves and ever in the stable, they were so wilde and furious. And for that they required so much time to vnshackle, and to harnish them, (least protracting of so long time, might, if they should chance at vnawares, and being vnreadie, to be surprised by their enemies, endomage them) they never tooke vp their quarter in any place, except it were wel dyked & intrenched: [Page 159] His Cirus, whom he maketh so cunning in horsemanship, did alwaies keepe his horses at a certaine stint, and would never suffer them to haue any meate before they had deserved the same by the sweate of some exercise. If the Scithians in time of warre chanced to be brought to any necessitie of victuals, the readiest remedie they had, was to let their horses blood, and there with all quenched their thirst, and nourished themselves.

Those of Crotta being hardly besieged by Metellus, were reduced to so hard a pinch, and strait necessitie of all maner of other beverage, that they were forced to drinke the stale or v­rine of their horses. To verifie how much better cheape the Turkes doe both levie, con­duct, and maintaine their armies, then we Christans doe; They report, that besides their souldiers never drinke any thing but water, and feede on nothing but rice, and drie-salt flesh, which they reduce into a kinde of powder (whereof every private man doth commonly ca­ry so much about him, as will serve for a moneths provision) and for a shift, will live a long time with the blood of their horses; wherein they vse to put a certain quantitie of salt, as the Tartares and Moskovites doe. These new discovered people of the Indies, when the Spaniardes came first amongst them, esteemed that aswell men as horses, were eyther gods, or creatures far beyond, and excelling their nature in nobilitie. Some of which, after they were vanquished by them, comming to sue for peace and beg pardon at their handes, to whom they brought presents of gold, and such viands as their country yeelded; omitted not to bring the same, and as much vnto their horses, and with as solemne Oration as they had made vnto men, taking their neighings, as a language of truce and composition. In the hether Indies, the chiefe and royallest honour was anciently wont to be, to ride vpon an E­lephant; the second to goe in Coaches drawne with foure horses; the third, to ride vppon a Camell; the last and basest, was to be carried or drawne by one horse alone. Some of our moderne Writers report, to have seene some Countries in that climate, where the people ride oxen, with packe-saddles, stirrops, and bridles, by which they were carried very easily Quintus Fabius Maximus Rutilianus, warring against the Samnites, and seeing that his horse­men, in three or foure charges they gave, had missed to breake and runne through his ene­mies battalion, at last resolved thus, that they should all vnbridle their horses, and with maine force of sharpe spurres pricke and broach them; which done, the horses as enraged, tooke such a running, thorow, and athwart the enemies campe, armes and men, that nought was able to resist them; and with such a fury, that by opening, shouldring, and overthrowing, the battallion, they made way for his Infanterie, which there committed a most bloody slaughter, and obtained a notable victorie. The like was commaunded and effected by Quintus Fulvius Flaccus against the Celtiberians: Id cum maiore vi equorum faciet is, si eff: oe­natos Liv. d [...]. 4. l. 1 [...]. in hoctes equos immittitis; quod saepe Remanos equites cumlaude fecisse memoriae prod [...]um est. Detractisque fraenis bis vltrò curo (que) cum magna strage hostium, infractis omnibus hast is, trans­currerunt. That shall you doe with more violence of horse, if you force your horse vnbridled on the enemie; which it is recorded, the Roman horsemen have often perfourmed with great proofe and praise. So pulling of the bridles, they twice ranne through forward, and backe againe with great slaughter of the enemie, all their launces broken.

The duke of Moscovie did anciently owe this reverence vnto the Tartares, at what time soever they sent any Ambassadors to him, that he must goe meete them on foote, and pre­sent them with a goblet full of mares-milke (a drinke counted very delicious amongst them which whilst they were drinking, if any drop chaunced to be spilt vpon their horses haires, he was, by duty, bound to licke the same vp with his toung. The army which the Emperor Baiazeth had sent into Russia, was overwhelmd by so horrible a tempest of snow, that to find some shelter & to save themselves from the extremitie of the cold, many advised to kil and vnpanch their horses, and enter into their panches, to enioy and finde some ease by that vi­tall heate. Baiazeth after that bloody and tragicall conflict wherein he was overthrowne by the Scithian Tamburlane, in seeking to escape, had no doubt saved himselfe, by the swift­nesse of an Arabian mare, on which he was mounted that day, if vnluckily he had not beene forced to let her drinke her fill in passing over a river, which made her so faint and foundred, that he was easily overtaken and apprehended by those that pursued him. The common say­ing [Page 160] is, that to let a horse stale after a full cariere, doth take downe his speede, but I would ne­ver have thought that drinking had done it, but rather strengthened and heartned him.

Croesus passing alongst the city of Sardis, found certaine thickets, wherin were great store of snakes and serpents, on which his horses fed very hungerly, which thing as Herodotus saith was an ill-boding-prodigie vnto his affaires. We call him an entire horse, that hath his full mane, and whole eares, and which in shew, or at a muster, doth not exceed others. The La­cedemonians having defeated the Athenians in Sicilte, returning in great pompe and glory from the victorie, into the City of Siracusa, among other Bravadoes of theirs, caused such horses as they had taken from their enemies to be shorne all over, and so led them in triumph. Alexander fought with a nation called Da [...]as, where they went to warre two and two, all armed vpon one horse, but when they came to combate, one must alight, and so suc­cessively one fought on foote, and the other on horse backe, each in his turne one after ano­ther. I am perswaded that in respect of sufficiencie, of comlinesse, & of grace on horseback, no Nation goeth beyond vs. A good horse-man, (speaking according to our phrase) seem­eth rather to respect an vndismayed courage, then an affected cleane seate. The man most skillfull, best and surest-sitting comeliest-graced, and nimblest-handed, to sit, to ride, and mannage a horse conningly, that ever I knew, & that best pleased my humor, was Monsieur de Carnavalet, who was Master of the horse vnto our King Henry the second. I have seene a man take his full cariere, standing boult-vp-right on both his feet in the saddle, leap downe to the ground from-it, and turning backe take-off the saddle, and presently set-it on againe as fast as ever it was, and then leap into it againe, and all this did he whilst his horse was run­ning as fast as might be with his bridle on his necke. I have also seene him ride over a bonet or cap, and being gone a good distance from it, with his bowshooting backward, to stick many arrows in the same; then sitting still in the saddle to take vp any thing from the ground: To set one foote to the ground, and keepe the other in the stirrop, and continnally running doe a thousand such tumbling and apish tricks, wherewith he got his living. There have in my time two men beene seene in Constantinople, both at once vpon one horse, and who in his speediest running, would by turns, first one, and then another, leap downe to the ground, and then into the saddle againe, the one still taking the others place. And another, who on­ly with teeth, and without the helpe of any hand, would bridle, curry, rubbe, dresse, saddle, guirt, and harnish his horse. Another that betweene two horses, and both sadled, standing vp-right, with one foote in the one, and the second in the other, did beare another man on his armes, standing vp-right, runne a full speedy course, and the vppermost to shoote and hitte any marke with his arrows. Divers have bin seene, who standing on their heads, and with their legs out-stretched-aloft, having many sharp-pointed cimitaries fastned round a­bout the saddle, to gallop a full speed. While I was a yoong lad, I saw the Prince of Sul [...]on [...] at Naples, manage a yoong, a rough, and fierce horse, and shew all maner of hors-man-ship; To holde testons or realles vnder his knees, and toes, so fast, as if they had beene nayled there, and all to shew his sure, steedy, and vnmovable sitting.

The nine and fortieth Chapter.

I Would willingly excuse our people for having no other patterne or rule of perfection, but his owne customes, his owne fashions: For, it is a common vice, not onely in the vulgar sorte, but as it were in all men, to bend their ayme, and frame their thoughts vnto the fash­ons, wherein they were borne. I am pleased when he shall see Fabricius or Laelius, who be­cause they are neither attired nor fashioned according to our manner, that he condemne their countenance to be strange, and their cariage barbarous. But I bewaile his particular indiscretion, in that he suffereth him selfe to be so blinded, and deceived by the authoritie of present custome, and that if custome pleaseth, he is readie to change opinion, and varie ad­vise, [Page 161] every moneth, nay every day, and judgeth so diversly of himselfe. When he wore short­wasted doublets, and but little lower then his breast, he would maintaine by militant reasons, that the waste was in his right place: but when not long after he came to weare them so long­wasted, yea almost so low as his privities, then began he to condemne the former fashion, as fond, intollerable and deformed; and to commend the latter, as comely, handsome, and commendable. A new fashion of apparell creepeth no sooner into vse, but presently he blameth and dispraiseth the old, and that with so earnest a resolution, and vniversall a con­sent, that you would say, it is some kind of madnesse, or selfe-fond humor, that giddieth his vnderstanding.

And for asmuch as our changing or altering of fashions, is so sudden and new-fangled, that the inventions, and new devises of all the tailors in the world, cannot so fast invent no­velties, it must necessarily follow that neglected, and stale reiected fashions doe often come into credite and vse againe: And the latest and newest, within a while-after come to be out­cast and despised, and that one selfe same judgement within the space of fifteene or twenty yeares admitteth, not onely two or three different, but also cleane contrary opinions, with so light and incredible inconstancie, that any man would wonder at it. There is no man so suttle-crafty amongst vs, that suffreth not himselfe to be enveigled and over-reached by this contradiction, and that is not insensibly dazeled, both with his inward and externall eies. I will heere huddle-vp some few ancient fashions that I remember: Some of them like vnto ours, other-some farre differing from them: To the end, that having ever this continual va­riation of humane things in our minde, we may the better enlighten and confirme our tran­sported judgement. That maner of fight which we vse now adaies with rapier and cloke, Caes Bel. ci [...]. l. 1. was also vsed among the Romans, as saith Caesar. Sinistris sagos involvunt, gladiosque distringnnt: They wrap their left armes in their clokes, and draw their swordes. We may to this day observe this vice to be amongst vs, and which we haue taken from them, that is, to stay such passen­gers as we meete by the way, and force them to tell vs, who they are, whence they come, whither they goe, and to count it as an injurie, and cause of quarrell, if they refuse to an­swer our demand. In Baths, which our forefathers vsed daily before meales, as ordinarily as we vse water to wash our hands, when first they came into them, they washed but their armes and legges, but afterward (which custome lasted many after-ages; and to this day continueth amongst divers nations of the world) their whole body over, with compounded and perfumed waters, in such sort as they held it as a great testimonie of simplicitie, to wash themselves in pure and vncompounded water: Such as were most delicate, and effeminate, were wont to perfume their whole bodies over and over, three or foure times every day▪ And often (as our French women have lately taken vp) to picke and snip out the haires of their forehead, so they of all their body.

Although they had choise of ointments fit for that purpose.

They loved to lie soft, and on fine downe-beds, alleaging lying on hard matresses as a signe of patience. They fed lying on their beds, neere after the maner of the Turkes now­adaies.

And it is reported of Cato Iunior, that after the battell of Pharsalia, and that he began to mourne and bewaile the miserable state of the common-wealth, and ill condition of pub­like affaires, he ever eate sitting on the ground, folowing an austere, and observing a strict kinde of life. The Besolas manos was vsed as a signe of honor and humilitie, onely toward great persons. If friends met, after friendly salutations, they vsed to kisse one another, as the Venetians doe at this day.

‘Gratatúsque darem cum dulcibus osculaverbis. O [...]id. Pont. l. 4. [...]’

And in saluting or suing to any great man, they touched his knees. Pasicles the Philoso­pher, brother vnto Crates, comming to salute one, whereas he should have caried his hand to his knee, caried the same vnto his genitories. The partie saluted, having rudely push't him away; What? quoth he, is not that part yours as well as the other? Their manner of seeding was as ours, their fruit last. They were wont to wipe their tailes (this vaine superstition of wordes must bee left vnto women) with a sponge, and that's the reason why Spongia in Latine is counted an obscene word: which sponge was ever tied to the end of a staffe, as witnesseth the storie of him, that was carried to be devoured of the wild beasts before the people, who desi­ring leave to goe to a privie before his death, and having no other meanes to kil himselfe, thrust downe the sponge and staffe, hee found in the privie, into his throte, wherewith he choked himselfe. Having ended the delights of nature, they were wont to wipe their privities with perfumed wooll.

In every streete of Rome were placed tubs, and such vessels for passengers to make water-in.

They vsed to breake their fast, and nonchion betweene meales, and all summer time, had men that solde snowe vp and downe the streetes, wherewith they refreshed their wines; of whom some were so daintie, that all winter long they vsed to put snow into their wine, not deeming it colde enough. Principall, and noble men had their cup-bearers, tasters, carvers and buffons to make them merrie. In Winter their viandes were brought and set on the boord vpon arches, as we vse chafing disnes; and had portable kitchins (of which I have seene some) wherein might be drawne, wheresoever one list, a whole service and messe of meate.

And in summer they often caused cold water (being carried through pipes) to drill vpon them as they sate in their dining-chambers, or lowe parlers, wherein cesterns, they kept store of fish alive, which the by-standers might at their pleasure, chuse and take with their hands, and have-it drest every man according to his fantasie. Fish hath ever had this pri­viledge, as at this day it hath; that chiefe Gentlemen, are pleased, and have skill to dress-it best: And to say truth, the taste of fish is much more delicate and exquisit, then that of flesh at least in mine. But in all manner of magnificence, delitiousnes, riotous gluttonie, inven­tions of voluptuousnes, wantonnes, and sumptuositie, we truly endevor, as much as may be, to equall and come neere them: For, our will and taste is as much corrupted as theirs, but our skill and sufficiencie is farre short of them: Our wit is no more capable, and our strength no more able to approach and match them in these vitious and blame-worthie parts, then in vertuous and commendable actions: For, both proceede from a vigor of spirit, and farre-reaching witte; which, without comparison, was much greater in them, then now in vs. And mindes, by how much more strong and excellent they are, so much lesse facultie and meanes have they, to doe, either excellently well, or notoriously ill. The chiefest aime amongst them was a meane or mediocrity. The Foremost or Last, in writing or speaking, had no signification of preheminence or greatnes, as may evidently appeare by their writings. They would as familiarly and as soone say. Oppius and Caesar, as Caesar and Oppius; and as indifferently, I and thou, as thou and I. And that's the reason why I have heretofore noted in the life of Flami­nius, in our French Plutarke, a place, where it seemeth that the Author, speaking of the iea­lousie of glorie, that was betweene the Aetolians and the Romanes, for the gaine of a battell, which they had obtained in common, maketh for the purpose, that in Greeke songs the Ae­tolians [Page 163] were named before the Romans, except there bee some Amphibologie in the French words: for, in that toong I reade-it. When Ladies came vnto slooves or hot-houses, they made-it not daintie to admit men into their companie, and to be washed, rubbed, chafed and annointed by the hands of their groomes and pages.

They also vsed to sprinkle themselves all ouer with certaine powders, thereby to alay and represse all maner of filth or sweate. The ancient Gaules (saith Sidonius Apollinaris) wore their haire long before, and all the hinder part of their head shauen, a fashion that our wanton youths and effeminate gallants, have lately renued, and in this new-fangled and fond-doting age, brought vp againe, with wearing of long-dangling locks before. The ancient Romans, paid the water-men their fare or due so soone as they came into the boate, whereas we pay-it when they set vs on shore.

Women were wont to lie on the vtmost side of the bed, and therefore was Caesar called Suet Iul. Ca [...] Sponda Regis Nicomedis: King Nicomedes his beds side: They tooke breath while they were c. 49. drinking and vsed to baptise, or put water in their wines.

Those cousening and minde-deceiving countenances of lake is were also amongst them

The Argian and Romane Ladies, mourned in white, as our dames wont to doe; and if I might be credited, and beare-sway amongst them, they should continue it still. But because there are many bookes, that treate of this argument I will say no more of-it.

The fiftieth Chapter.

IVdgement is an instrument for all subiects, and medleth every where. And therefore in the Essayes I make of it, there is no maner of occasion, I seeke not to employ therein. If it be a subiect I vnderstand not my selfe, therein I make triall of it, sounding afarre off the depth of the ford, and finding the same over deepe for my reach, I keepe my selfe on the shoare. And to acknowledge not to be able to wade through, is a part of it's effect, yea of such whereof he vanteth most. If I light vpon a vaine and idle subiect, I assay to trie, and endevor to see, whether I may find a good ground to worke vpon, and matter to frame a body, and where­with to builde and vnder-lay-it. Sometimes I addresse my judgement and contrive-it to a noble and out-worne subject, wherein is nothing found subsisting of it selfe, the high way to [Page 164] it, being so bare-trodden, that it cannot march, but in other steps. There he pleaseth himself in chusing the course he thinkes best, and a thousand paths sometimes he saith, this or that was best chosen. I take my first Argument of fortune: All are alike vnto me: And I never purpose to handle them throughly: For, there is nothing wherein I can perceive the full per­fection: Which they doe not that promise to shew it-vs. Of a hundred partes and visages that everie thing hath, I take one, which sometimes I slightly runne-over, and other times but cursorily glance-at. And yet other whilst I pinch it to the quicke. And give it a Stockado, not the widest, but the deepest I can. And for the most part I love to seize vpon them by some vnwonted lustre. I would adventure to treate and discourse of some matter to the depth; knew I my selfe lesse, or where I deceived in mine owne impuissance; Scattering here one and there another worde: Scantlings taken from their maine ground-work, disorderly dispersed, without any well-grounded designe and promise. I am not bound to make it good, nor without varying to keepe my selfe close tied vnto-it; whensoever it shall please me to yeeld my selfe to doubt, to vncertaintie, and to my Mistris forme, which is ignorance. Ech motion sheweth and discouereth what we are. The very same minde of Caesar, we see in di­recting, marshalling, and setting the battel of Pharsalia, is likewise seene to order, dispose, and contrive, idle, trifling and amorous devises. We iudge of a horse, not onely by seeing him ridden, and cunningly managed, but also by seeing him trot, or pace; yea, if we but looke vp­on him as he stands in the stable. Amongst the functions of the soule, some are but meane and base. He that seeth hir no further, can never know hir thorowly. And he that seeth hir march hir naturall and simple pace, doth peradventure observe hir best. The winds of pas­sions take hir most in her highest pitch, seeing she entirely coucheth hirselfe vpon every mat­ter, and wholy therein exerciseth hirselfe: and handleth but one at once; not according to-it, but according to hirselfe. Things severall in themselves have peradventure, weight, mea­sure, and condition: But inwardly, in vs, she cuttes-it out for them, as she vnderstandeth the same hirselfe. Death is fearefull and vgly vnto Cicero; wished-for and desired of Cato: and indifferent vnto Socrates. Health, well-fare, conscience, authoritie, riches, glory, beauty, and their contraries are dispoyled at the entrance, and receive a new vesture at the soules hand. Yea, and what coulour she pleaseth; browne, bright greene, sadde, or any hew else: sharpe or sweete, deepe or superficiall, and what each of them pleaseth. For, none of them did ever veri­fie their stiles, their rules, or formes in common; each on severally is a Queene in hir owne e­state. Therefore let vs take no more excuses from externall qualites of things. To vs it be­longeth to give our selves accoumpt of it. Our good, and our evill hath no dependancy, but from our selves. Let vs offer our vowes and offerings vnto it; and not to fortune. She hath no power over our maners. Why shall I not iudge of Alexander, as I am sitting and drink­ing at Table, and talking in good company? Or if hee were playing at Chesse, what string of his witte doth not touch or harpe on this fond-childish, and time-consuming play? I lothe and shunne-it, only because there is not sport inough in it, and that in his recreation, he is o­ver serious with vs, being ashamed I must apply that attention thervnto, as might be imploy­ed on some good subiect. He was no more busied in levying his forces and preparing for his glorious passage into India; nor this other in disintangling and discovering of a passage, whence dependeth the wel-fare and safety of mankind. See how much our mind troubleth this ridiculous ammuzing, if all hir sinnewes bandy not. How amply she giveth every one Law in that, to know and directly to iudge of himselfe. I doe not more vniversally view and feele my selfe in any other posture. What passion doth not exercise vs thervnto? Choller, spight, hatred, impatience, and vehement ambition to overcome, in a matter wherein it were haply more excusable to be ambitious for to be vanquished. For, a rare pre-excellency, and beyond the common reach, in so frivolous a thing, is much mis-seeming a man of honor. What I say of this example, may be spoken of all others. Every parcell, every occupation of a man, accus th, and sheweth him equal vnto another. Democritus and Heraclitus were two Philosophers, the first of which, finding and deeming humane condition to be vaine and ri­diculous, did never walke abroad, but with a laughing, scornefull and mocking countenance: Whereas Heraclitus taking pitie and compassion of the very same condition of ours, was continuallie seene with a sadde, mournefull, and heavy cheere, and with teares trickling downe his blubbered eyes. Iuuen. Sa [...]. 10. 28.

I like the first humor best, not because it is more pleasing to laugh, then to weepe; but for it is more disdainefull, and doth more condemne vs then the other. And me thinkes we can never bee sufficiently despised, according to our merite. Bewailing and commiseration, are commixed with some estimation of the thing moaned and wailed. Things scorned and contemned, are thought to be of no worth. I cannot be perswaded, there can be so much ill lucke in vs, as there is apparant vanitie, nor so much malice, as sottishnesse. We are not so full of evill, as of voydnesse and inanitie. We are not so miserable, as base and abject. Even so Diogenes, who did nothing but triflle, toy, and dally with himselfe, in rumbling and rowling of his tub, and flurting at Alexander, accoumpting vs but flies, and bladders puft with winde, was a more sharp, a more bitter, and a more stinging judge, and by consequence, more jus [...] and fitting my humor, then Timon, surnamed the hater of all mankinde. For looke what a man hateth, the same thing he takes to hart. Timon wisht all evill might light on-vs; He was passionate in desiring our ruine. He shunned and loathed our conversation as dangerous and wicked; and of a depraved nature: Whereas the other so little regarded vs, that wee could neither trouble nor alter him by our contagion; forsooke our company, not for feare, but for disdaine of our commerce: He never thought vs capable or sufficient to doe either good or evill. Of the same stampe was the answere of Statilius to whom Bru [...]us spake to winne him to take parte, and adhere to the conspiracy against Caesar: He allowed the en­terprize to be very just, but disalowed of the men that should perform the same, as vnworthy that any man should put him selfe in any adventure for them: Conformable to discipline of Hegesias, who saide, That a wise man ought never to doe any thing but for himselfe; forasmuch as he alone is worthy to have any action performed for him: and to that of Theodorus, who thought it an iniustice, that a wise man should in any case hazard himselfe for the good and benefit of his country, or to indanger his wisedome for fooles. Our owne condition is as ridiculous as risible as much to be laught at as able to laugh.

The one and fiftieth Chapter.

ARethorician of ancient times, said, that his trade was, to make small things appeare and seeme great. It is a shooemaker, that can make great shooes for a little foote. Had hee lived in Sparta, he had doubtlesse beene well whipped, for professing a false, a couzening and deceitfull arte. And I thinke, Archidamus King of that Citie did not without astonishment listen vnto the answer of Thucydides, of whom he demaunded, whether he, or Pericles, was the strongest and nimblest wrestler; whose answer was this, Your quection Sir, is very hard to be decided; for if in wrestling with him, I giue him a fall, with his faire words he perswadeth those that saw him on the ground, that he never fell, and so gets the victorie. Those that maske & paint wo­men, commit not so foule a fault, for it is no great losse, though a man see them not, as they were naturally borne and vnpainted: Whereas these professe to deceiue and beguile, not our eies, but our iudgement; and to bastardize and corrupt the essence of things. Those common-wealths, that haue maintained themselves in a regular, formall, and well governd estate, as that of Creete and Lacedemon, did never make any great esteeme of Orators. Ari­ston did wisely define Rhetorike to be a Science, to perswade the vulgare people: Socrates and Plato, to be an Art to deceiue and flatter. And those which deny it in the generall description, doe every where in their precepts verifie the same. The Mahometanes, by reason of it's in­vtilitie, forbid the teaching of it to their children. And the Athenians, perceiving how pernicious the profession and vse thereof was, and of what credite in their Citie, ordained, that their principall part, which is to moove affections, should be dismissed and taken a­way, together with all exordiums and perorations. It is an instrument devised, to busie, to ma­nage, [Page 166] and to agitate a vulgar and disordered multitude; and is an implement imployed, but about distempered and sicke mindes, as Physicke is about crazed bodies. And those where either the vulgar, the ignorant, or the generalitie have had all power, as that of Rhodes, those of Athens, and that of Rome, and where things have ever beene in continuall disturbance and vproare, thither haue Orators and the professors of that Arte flocked. And verily, if it be well looked into, you shall finde very few men in those common-wealths, that without helpe of eloquence have attamed to any woorthy estimation and credite: ` Pompey, Caesar, Crassus, Lucullus, Lentulus Metellus, have thence taken their greatest stay and furtherance, whereby they have ascended vnto that height and greatnesse of authoritie, wherevnto they at last attained, and against the opinion of better times have more prevailed with words than with armes. For, L. Ʋolumnius speaking publikely in favour of the election, which some had made of Quintus Fabius, and Publius Decius, to be Consuls; saith thus; They are men borne vnto warre, of high spirits, of great performance, and able to effect any thing, but rude, simple, and vnarted in the combate of talking; mindes truly Consulare. They only are good Pretors, to do [...] iustice in the Citie (saith he) that are subtile, cauteleus, well-spoken, wily and lippe-wise. Elo­quence hath chiefely flourished in Rome when the common-wealths affaires have beene in worst estate, and that the devouring Tempest of civill broyles, and intestine warres did most agitate and turmoyle them. Even as a rancke, free and vntamed soyle, beareth the ranck est and strongest weeds, whereby it seemeth that those common-weales, which depend of an ab­solute Monarch, have lesse neede of-it then others: For, that foolishnesse and facilitie, which is found in the common multitude, & which doth subject the same, to be managed, perswa­ded, and led by the eares, by the sweet alluring and sense-entrancing sound of this harmony, without duely weighing, knowing, or considering the trueth of things by the force of reason: This facility and easy yeelding, I say, is not so easily found in one only ruler, and it is more ea­sie to warrant him from the impression of this poyson, by good institution and sound coun­sell, There was never seene any notable or farre-renowmed Orator to come out of Mace­don or Persia. What I have spoken of-it, hath beene vpon the subiect of an Italian, whom I have lately entertained into my service. Who during the life of the whilom cardinal Caraffa served him in the place of steward of his house. Enquiring of his charge, and particular qua­lity, he tolde me, a long, formall, and eloquent discourse of the science or skill of epicurisme and gluttony, with such an Oratory-gravitie, and Magistrale countenaunc, as if he had dis­coursed of some high mysterious point of divinitie, wherein he hath very methodically de­cifred and distinguished sundry differences of appetites: First of that which a man hath fa­sting, then of that men have after the first, the second, and third service. The severall means how sometimes to please-it simply, and other times to sharpen and provoke the same; the policy and rare invention of his sawces: First, in generall terms, then part cularizing the qua­lities and severall operations of the ingredients, and their effects: The differences of salades according to their distinct seasons, which must be served in warme, and which cold: The ma­ner how to dresse, how to adorne, and embellish them, to make them more pleasing to the sight. After that, he entred into a large and farre-fetcht narration, touching the true order, and due methode of service, full of goodly and important considerations.

And all that filled vp and stuffed with rich magnificent words, well couched phrases, ora­torie figures, and patheticall metaphors; yea such as learned men vse and imploy in speaking of the Government of an Empire, which made me remember my man.

Yet did those strict Graecians commend the order and disposition, which Paulus Ae [...] ­us observed in the banquet he made them at his returne from Macedon: But heere I speake not of the effects, but of the words. I know not whether they worke that in others, which they doe in mee. But when I heare our Architects mouth-out those bigge and ratling words of Pilasters, Architraves, Cornixes, Frogtispices, Corinthian, and Dorike workes and such-like fustian-termes of theirs, I cannot let my wandering imagination from a so­daine apprehension of Apollidonius his pallace, and I finde by effect, that they are the seelie, and decayed peeces of my Kitchin-doore. Doe but heare one pronounce Metonymia Metaphore, Allegory, Etimologie, and other such trash-names of Grammer, would you not thinke, they meant some forme of a rare and strange language; They are titles and words that concerne your chamber-maides tittle-tattle. It is a foppery and cheating tricke, cousin-Germane vnto this, to call the offices of our estate by the proud titles of the ancient Romans, though they have no resemblance at al of charge, and lesse of authoritie and power. And this likewise, which in mine opinion will one day remaine as a reproch vnto our age, vnworthily and vndeservedly to bestow on whom we list the most glorious Surnames and loftiest titles, wherewith antiquitie in many long-continued ages honoured but one or two persons. Plato hath by such an vniuersall consent borne-away the surname of Divine, that no man did ever attempt to envie him for it. And the Italians, which vaunt (and indeed with some reason) to have generally more lively, and farre reaching wits, and their discourse more sound and sin­nowy, then other nations of their times, have lately therewith embellished Peter Aretine; in whom except it be an high-raised, proudly-pufft, mind-moving, and heart-danting maner of speech, yet in good sooth more than ordinarie, wittie and ingenious; But so new fangled, so extravagant, so fantasticall, so deep-labored; & to conclude, besides the eloquence, which be it as it may be, I cannot perceive any thing in it, beyond or exceeding that of many other writers of his age, much lesse that it in any sort approacheth that ancient divinitie. And the surname Great, we attribute and fasten the same on Princes, that have nothing in them ex­ceeding popular greatnesse.

The two and fiftieth Chapter.

ATtilius Regulus, Generall of the Romanes armie in Affrike, in the middest of his glory and victorie against the Carthaginians, writ vnto the common-wealth, that a hyne or plough-boy whom he had left alone to oversee and husband his land (which in all was but seuen acres of ground) was run away from his charge, & had stolne from him all his imple­ments & tools, belonging to his husbandry, craving leave to be discharged, & that he might come home to looke to his businesse, for feare his wife and children should thereby be en­domaged: the Senate tooke order for him, and appointed another man to looke to his land and businesse, and made that good vnto him, which the other had stolne from him, & appointed his wife & children to be maintained at the common-wealths charge. Cato the el­der returning Consul from Spaine, sold his horse of service, to save the monie he should haue spent for his transport by sea into Italy: And being chiefe governor in Sardinia, went al his vi­sitations a foot, having no other traine, but one officer of the common-welth, who caried his gown, and a vessell to do sacrifice in, and for the most part carried his male himselfe. He boa­sted that he neuer woare gowne, that cost him more then tenne crowns, nor sent morethen one smilling sterling to the market for one whole daies provision, & had no Countrie house rough-cast or painted over. Scipio Aemilianus after he had triumphed twice, and twice been Consull, went on a solemne Legation, accompanied and attended-on onely with seven ser­vants. It is reported that Homer had neuer any more then one servant. Plato three, and [Page 168] Zeno chiefe of the Stoikes sect, none at al. Tiberius Gracchus, being then one of the principal men amongst the Romanes and sent in commission about weightie matters of the com­mon-wealth was allotted but six-pence halfe-penie a day for his charges.

The three and fiftieth Chapter.

IF we shall sometimes ammuse our selves and consider our estate, and the time we spend in controlling others, and to know the things that are without vs; would we but emploie the same in sounding our selves throughly, we should easily perceive how all this our con­texture is built of weake and decaying pieces. It is not an especiall testimonie of imperfecti­on, that we cannot settle our contentment on any one thing, and that even of our owne de­sire and imagination, it is beyond our power to chuse what we stande in neede of? Where­of the disputation that hath ever beene amongst Philosophers beareth sufficient witnes, to finde out the chiefe felicitie or summum bonum of man, and which yet doth, and shall eter­nally last without resolution or agreement.

Whatsoever it be that falleth into our knowledge and jovissance, we finde, it doth not sa­tisfie vs, and we still follow and gape after future, vncertaine, and vnknowne things, because the present and vnknowne please vs not, and doe not satisfie vs. Nor (as I thinke) because they have not sufficiently wherewith to satiate and please vs, but the reason is, that we apprehend and seize on them with an vnruly, disordered, and diseased taste and hold-fast.

Our appetite is irresolute, and vncertaine; it can neither holde nor enjoy any thing hand­somly and after a good fashion. Man supposing it is the vice & fault of things he possesseth, feedeth and filleth himselfe with other things, which he neither knoweth, nor hath vnder­standing of, whereto he applyeth both his desires and hopes, and taketh them as an honor and reverence to himself; as saith Cesar, Communs fit vitio naturae, vt invisis, latit antibus atque in Cas. b [...]l. civ. li. 2. cognitis rebus magis confidamus, vehementiùsque exterreamur. It hapneth by the common fault of nature, that both wee are more confident, and more terrified by things vnseene, things hidden, and vnknowne.

The foure and fiftieth Chapter.

THere are certaine frivolus and vaine inventions, or as some call them, subtilties of wit, by meanes of which, some men doe often endevor to get credit and reputation: as di­vers Poets, that frame whole volumes with verses beginning with one letter: we see Egges, Wings, Hatchets, Crosses, Globes, Columnes, & divers other such-like figures anciently fa­shioned by the Graecians, with the measure and proportion of their verses, spreading, length­ning, and shortning them, in such sort as they justly represent such and such a figure. Such was the science and profession of him, who long time busied himselfe, to number how many severall waies the letters of the Alphabet might be ranged, and found-out that incredible number mentioned by Plutarke. I allow of his opinion, who having one brought before him, that was taught with such industrie, and so curiously to cast a graine of Millet with his hand, that without ever missing, he would every time make-it goe through a needles-eye; and being entreated to bestow some thing vpon him, (as a reward for so rare a skill,) verie pleasantly and worthily, commaunded, that this cunning workman should have two or thee peckes of Millet delivered him, to the end his rare arte and wittie labour might not remaine without da lie exercise. It is a wonderfull testimonie of our judgements imbecilitie, that it should commend and allow of things, either for their rarenesse, or noveltie, or for their difficultie, though neither goodnesse or profit be joyned vnto them. We come but now from my house, where we have a while recreated our selves, with devising who could find out most things, that held by both extreame endes; As for example, Sire, is in our tongue a title onely given to the most imminent person of our state, which is the King, and yet is commonly given to some of the vulgar sort, as vnto Marchants and Pedlers, and nothing concerneth those of the middle sort, and that are betweene both. Women of chiefest calling and qualitie are called Dames, the meane sort Damoisels, and those of the basest ranke, are also entitled ` Dames. The clothes of estate, which we see set over tables and chaires, are onely allowed in Princes houses, yet we see them vsed in Tavernes. Democritus was wont to say, That Gods and beasts, had quicker senses and sharper wi [...]s then men, who are of the middle ranke. The Romanes vsed to weare one selfe same garment on mourning and on festivall daies. It is most certaine, that both an extreame feare, and an exceeding heat of courage, do equally trouble and distemper the belly. The nick-name of Iremblam, wherewith Zanchi [...] the twelst King of Navarre was surnamed, teacheth, that boldnesse, aswell as feare, engender a startling and shaking of the limbs. Those which armed, either him, or any other of like nature, whose skin would quiver, assa ed to re-assure him, by diminishing the danger wherein he was like to fall; you have no perfect knowledge of me (said he,) for if my flesh knew how far my cou­rage will ere-long carrie-it, it would presently fall into a flat swoune. That chilnesse, or as I may terme it, faintnesse, which we feel after the exercises of Ʋenus, the same doth also pro­ceede of an over vehement appetite and disordred heat. Excessive heat and extreame cold doe both hoile and rost. Aristotle saith, That leaden vessels doc as well melt and consume away by an excessive cold and rigor of winter, as by a vehement heat. Both desire and sati [...]tie fill the seats with sorow, both aboue and vnder voluptuousnesse. Follie and wisedome meet in one point of feeling and resolution, about the suffering of humane accidents. The wiser sort doth gourmandise and command evill, and others know it not. The latter, (as a man would say) short of accidents, the other, beyond. Who after they have well weighed and conside­red their qualities, and dulie measured, and rightly judged what they are, over-leap them by the power of a vigorous courage. They disdaine and tread them vnder foote, as having a strong and solide mind, against which, if fortunes darts chance to light, they must of necessi­tie be blunted and abated, meeting with so resisting a bodie, as they cannot pierce, or make [Page 170] any impression therein. The ordinarie and meane condition of men abideth betweene these two extremities; which are those that perceive and have a feeling of michiefes, but can not endure them. Both infancie and decrepitude meet with weaknesse of the braine. Covetise and profusion in a like desire to acquire and hoard-vp. It may with likelyhoode be spoken, that there is a kind of Abecedarie ignorance, preceding science: an other doctorall, follow­ing science: an ignorance, which science doth beget: even as it spoileth the first. Of simple, lesse-curious, and least-instructed spirits are made good christians, who simplie beleeve through reverence and obedience, and are kept in awe of the lawes. In the meane vigor of spirits, and slender capacitie is engendred the error of opinions: They follow the apparance of the first sense; and have some title to interpret-it foolishnesse and sottishnesse, that we are confirmed in ancient waies, respecting vs, that are nothing therein instructed by studie. The best, most-setled, and clearest-seeing spirits, make another sort of well-beleevers, who by long and religious investigation, penetrate a more profound, and find-out a more abstruse light in scriptures, and discover the misterious and divine secrets of our ecclesiasticall pollicie. And therefore see we some of them, that have reached vnto this last ranke, by the second, with wonderfull fruit and confirmation; as vnto the furthest bounds of christian intelli­gence: and injoy their victorie with comfort, thans-giving, reformation of manners, and great modestie. In which ranke, my purpose is not to place these others, who to purge them­selves from the suspicion of their forepassed errors, and the better to assure vs of them, be­come extreame, indiscreet, and vnjust in the conduct of our cause, and taxe and taint the same with infinit reproches of violence. The simple peasants are honest men; so are Philoso­phers, (or as our time nameth them, strong and cleare natures) enriched with a large instru­ction of profitable sciences. The mongrell sort of husband-men, who have disdained the first forme of ignorance of letters, and could never reach vnto the other (as they that sit be­tweene two stooles, of which besides so many others I am one) are dangerous, peevish, foo­lish, and importunate, and they which trouble the world most. Therefore do I (as much as lieth in me) with-draw my selfe into the first and naturall seat, whence I never assaied to de­part. Popular and meerely naturall Poesie, hath certaine graces, and in-bred livelinesse, whereby it concurreth and compareth it selfe vnto the principall beautie of perfect and arti­ficiall Poesie, as may plainly be seene in the Villannelles, homely gigs, and countrie songs of Gasconie, which are brought vnto vs from Nations, that have no knowledge at all, either of any learning, or so much as of writing. Meane and indifferent Poesie, and that consisteth betweene both, is skorned, and contemned, and passeth without honour or esteeme. But forasmuch as since the passage hath been opened vnto the spirit, I have found (as it com­monly hapneth) that we had apprehended that which is neither so nor so for a difficult ex­ercise, and of a rare subject; And that since our invention hath been set on fire, it discove­reth an infinit number of like examples; I will onely adde this one: That if these Essayes were worthie to be judged-of, it might in mine opinion happen, that they would not greatly please the common and vulgar spirits, and as little the singular and excellent. The first will vnderstand but little of them, the latter over-much; they might perhaps live and rub out in the middle region.

The five and fiftieth Chapter.

IT is reported of some, namely of Alexander, that their sweat, through some rare and ex­traordinarie complexion, yeelded a sweet-smelling savour; whereof Plutarke and others seeke to find out the cause. But the common sort of bodies are cleane contrarie, and the best qualitie they have, is to be cleare of any smel at all. The sweetnesse of the purest breaths hath nothing more perfect in them, then to be without savour, that may offend-vs: as are those of healthy-sound children. And therefore saith Plautus;

[Page 171] ‘Mulier tum benè, olet, vbi nihil olet. Pla [...]. Mostel. act. 1. sc. 3.’

The most exquisit and sweetest savour of a woman, it is to smell of nothing; and sweet, well-smelling, strange savours, may rightly be held suspicious in such as vse them; and a man may lawfully thinke, that who vseth them, doth-it to cover some naturall defect: whence pro­ceede these ancient Poeticall sayings.

Yet love I greatly to be entertained with sweet smels, and hate exceedingly all maner of sowre and ill savours, which I shall sooner smell, then any other.

The simplest and meerely-naturall smels, are most pleasing vnto me; which care ought chiefly to concerne women. In the verie heart of Barbarie, the Scithian women, after they had washed themselves, did sprinkle, dawbe, and powder all their bodies and faces over, with a certaine odoriferous drug, that groweth in their Countrie: which dust and dawbing being taken away, when they come neere men, or their husbands, they remaine verie cleane, and with a verie sweet-savouring perfume. What odor soever it be, it is strange to see, what hold it will take on-me, and how apt my skin is to receive it. He that complaineth against na­ture, that she hath not created man with a fit instument, to carrie sweet smels fast-tied to his nose, is much to blame: for, they carrie themselves. As for me in particular, my mostachoes, which are verie thicke, serve me for that purpose. Let me but approach my gloves or my hand-kercher to them, their smell will sticke vpon them a whole day. They manifest the place I come from. The close-smacking, sweetnesse-moving, love-alluring, and greedi­smirking kisses of youth, were heretofore wont to sticke on them many houres after; yet am I little subject to those popular diseases, that are taken by conversation, and bred by the con­tagion of the ayre: And I have escaped those of my time, of which there hath been many and severall kinds, both in the Townes about me, and in our Armie. We read of Socrates, that during the time of many plagues and relapses of the pestilence, which so often infested the Citie of Athens, he never forsooke or went out of the Towne: yet was he the onely man, that was never infected, or that felt any sicknesse. Phisitians might (in mine opinion) draw more vse and good from odours, then they doe. For, my selfe have often perceived, that ac­cording vnto their strength and qualitie, they change and alter, and move my spirits, and worke strange effects in me: which makes me approve the common saying, that the inven­tion of incense and perfumes in Churches, so ancient and so far-dispersed throughout all nations and religions, had an especiall regard to rejoyce, to comfort, to quicken, to rowze, and to purifie our senses, that so we might be the apter and readier vnto contemplation. And the better to judge of it, I would I had my part of the skill, which some Cookes have, who can so curiously season and temper strange odors with the savour and rellish of their meats. As it was especially observed in the service of the King of Tunes, who in our dayes landed at Naples, to meete and enter-parly with the Emperour Charles the fifth. His viands were so exquisitely farced, and so sumptuously seasoned with sweet odoriferous drugs, and aroma­ticall spices, that it was found vpon his booke of accompt, the dressing of one peacocke, and two fesants amounted to one hundred duckets; which was their ordinarie maner of cooking his meates. And when they were carved-vp, not onely the dining chambers, but all the roomes of his pallace, and the streets round about-it were replenished with an exceeding [Page 172] odoriferous and aromaticall vapour, which continued a long time after. The principall care I take, wheresoever I am lodged, is to avoid, and be far from all maner of filthy, foggy, ill-savouring, and vnwholsome aires. These goodly Cities of strangely-seated Ʋenice, and huge-built Paris, by reason of the muddie, sharp, and offending savors, which they yeeld; the one by her fennie and marish scituation, the other by her du [...]tie vncleannesse, and conti­nuall mire, doe greatly alter and diminish the favour which I beare them.

The sixe and fiftieth Chapter.

I Propose certaine formelesse and irresolute fantasies, as do those schollers, who in schooles publish doubtfull and sophisticall questions to be disputed and canvased: not to establish the truth, but to find-it out: which I submit to their judgements, to whom the ordering and directing, not onely of my actions and compositions, but also of my thoughts, belongeth. The condemnation, as well as the approbation of them, will be equally acceptable and pro­fitable vnto me, deeming-it absurde and impious, if any thing be, either ignorantly, or vnad­visedly set downe in this rapsodie, contrarie vnto the sacred resolutions, and repugnant to the holie prescriptions of the Catholike, Apostolike, and Romane Church, wherein I was borne, and out of which I purpose not to die. And therefore alwaies referring my selfe vnto their censures that have all power over me, do I meddle so rashly, to write of all manner of purposes and discourses, as I do here. I wot not whether I be deceived, but sithence, by an es­peciall and singular favour of Gods divine bountie, a certaine forme of Praier, hath, by the verie mouth of God, word by word been prescribed & directed vnto vs, I have ever thought the vse of-it, should be more ordinarie with vs, then it is. And might I be believed, both rising and going to bed, sitting downe and rising from boorde, and going about any particular acti­on or businesse, I would have all good Christians, to say the Pater noster, and if no other praier, at least not to omit that. The Church may extend, amplifie, and diversifie praiers ac­cording to the need of our instruction: For, I know it is alwaies the same substance, and the same thing. But that one should ever have this priviledge, that all manner of people, should at all times, and vpon every occasion have it in their mouth: For, it is most certaine, that onely it containeth whatsoever we want, and is most fit, and effectuall in all events. It is the onely praier I vse in every place, at all times, and vpon every accident; and in stead of changing, I vse often repetition of it: whence it commeth to passe, that I remember none so well as that one. I was even now considering, whence this generall errour commeth, that in all our desseignes and enterprises, of what nature soever, we immediatly have recourse vnto God, and in every necessitie, we call vpon his holie name: And at what time soever we stand in need of any help, and that our weaknesse wanteth assistance, we onely invoke him, without considering whether the occasion be just or vnjust; and what estate or action we be in, or go about, be it never so vicious or vnlawfull, we call vpon his name and power. In­deed, he is our onely protector, and of power to affoord-vs all maner of help and comfort; but although he vouchsafe to honour vs with this joy-bringing fatherly adoption, yet is he as just as he is good; and as good and just, as he is mightie: But oftner vseth his justice than his might, and favoureth vs according to the reason of the same, and not according to our requests. Plato in his lawes maketh three sorts of injurious beliefe in the Gods: First, that there is none at all; Secondly, that they meddle not with our affaires; Thirdly, that they never refuse any thing vnto our vowes, offrings, and sacrifices. The first errour, according to his opinion, did never continue immutable in man, even from his first infancie vnto his lat­ter age. The two succeeding may admit some constancie. His justice and power are insepa­rable. It is but in vaine to implore his power in a bad cause. Man must have an vnpolluted [Page 173] soule when he praieth (at least in that moment he addresseth himselfe to pray) and abso­lutely free from all vicious passions; otherwise we our selves present him the rods to scourge vs withall. In liew of redressing our fault, we redouble the same, by presenting him with an affection fraught with irreverence, sinne, and hatred, to whom onely we should sue for grace and forgivenesse. Loe-heere, why I doe not willingly commend those Pharisaicall humours, whom I so often behold, and more then ordinarie, to pray vnto God, except their actions immediately preceding or succeeding their praiers witnesse some shew of reforma­tion or hope of amendment.

And the state of a man that commixeth devotion vnto an execrable life, seemeth in some sort to be more condemnable, then that of one, that is conformable vnto himselfe, and euery way dissolute. Therefore doth our Church continually refuse, the favour of hir enterance and societie, vnto customes and manners, wilfully-obstinate on some egregious villanie. We onely pray by custome and vse, and for fashion-sake, or to say better, we but reade and pro­nounce our prayers: To conclude, it is nothing but a shew of formalitie, and a formall shew. And it greeveth me to see many men, who at grace before and after meat, will with great shew of devotion, crosse themselves three or foure times, (and it vexeth me so much the more, when I call to mind, that it is a signe I greatly reverence, and have in continuall vse, yea, if I be but gaping) and there-whilst, shall you see them bestow all other houres of the day in all maner of hatred, malice, covetousnesse, and injustice. Many houres spend they about vice, but one to God, and that as it were by way of recompence and composition. It it wonderous to see, so far different and divers actions, continue with so even a tenor, that no interruption or alteration at all can be perceived, either about their confines, or passage from one vnto an­other. What prodigious conscience can be at any harts-case, fostring, and feeding with so mutuall, quiet, and agreeing society in one selfe same mansion, both crime and judge? A man whose Paillardize and Iuxurie, doth vncessantly sway and rule the head, and who judgeth the same ab hominable and most hatefull in the sight of God; what saith he vnto his all-seeing Majestie, when he openeth his lips, either of mouth or hart, to speake to him of-it? He re­claimeth himselfe, but falleth sodainly againe. If the obiect of his divine iustice, and his presence should strike, (as he saith) and chastice his soule, how short-soever the penitence were; feare it selfe would so often cast his thought on-it, that he would presently perceive himselfe master of those vices, which are habituated▪ in-bred, setled, and enfleshed in him. But what of those, which ground a whole life vpon the fruit and benefite of that sinne, they know to be mortall? How many trades, professions, occupations, and vacations, have we dailie and continually vsed, frequen­ted, and allowed amongest vs, whose essence is vicious and most pernicious? And he that would needs confesse himselfe vnto me, and of his owne accord told me, that for feare of loosing his credite, and to keep the honour of his offices; he had for a whole age, made shew and profession, and acted the effects of a religion, which in his owne selfe-accusing consci­ence, he judged damnable, and cleane contrarie vnto that he had in his hart: How could he admit and foster so contradictorie and impious a discourse in his hart? With what language entertaine they divine justice concerning this subject? Their repentance, consisting in visible amends, and manageable reparation; they loose both towards God and vs, the meanes to alleage the same. Are they so malapart and fond-hardie as to crave pardon without satis­faction, and sans repentance? I think it goeth with the first, as with these last: But obstinacie is not herein so easie to be vanquished. This so suddaine contrarietie, and violent volubilitie of opinion, which they faine-vnto-vs, seemeth to me a miracle. They present-vs with the state of an indigestible agonie. How santasticall seemed their imagination vnto me, who these latter yeares had taken vp a fashion, to checke and reproove all men, that professed the Catholike Religion, in whom shined any extraordinarie brightnesse of spirit, saying, that it was but fained: and to doe him honour, held, that whatsoever he said in apparance, he could not inwardly chuse but have his beliefe reformed according to their byase. It is a peevish in­firmitie, for a man to thinke himselfe so firmely grounded, as to perswade himselfe, that the contrarie may not be believed: And more peevish also, to be perswaded by such a spirit, that [Page 174] preferreth I wot not what disparitie of fortune, before the hopes and threats of eternall life, They may beleeve me: If any thing could have attempted my youth, the ambition of the hazard, and difficultie, which followed this late-moderne enterprize, should have had good part therein. It is not without great reason, in my poore judgement, that the Church forbid­deth the confused, rash and indiscreet vse of the sacred and divine songs, which the holie spi­rit hath indited vnto David. God ought not to be commixed in our actions, but with awfull reverence, and an attention full of honour and respect. The word or voice is too divine, ha­ving no other vse but to exercise our lungs, and to please our eares. It is from the conscience and not from the tongue that it must proceed. It is not consonant vnto reason, that a pren­tise or shop-keeping boy, amiddest his idle, vaine, and frivolous conceits, should be suffered to entertaine himselfe, and play therewith. Nor is it seemely, or toollerable, to see the sacred booke of our beliefes-Mysteries, tossed vp and downe and plaid withall, in a shop, or a hall, or a kitchin. They have heretofore been accompted mysteries, but through the abuse of times, they are now held as sports and recreations. So serious, and venerable a studie should not, by way of pastime, and tumultuarie be handled. It ought to be a fixed, a purposed, and setled action, to which this preface of our office sursum corda should ever be adioyned; and the verie exterior parts of the bodie, should with such a countenance, be referred vnto it, that to all mens eyes it may witnesse a particular attention and duteous respect. It is not a a studie fitting all men, but onely such as have vowed themselves vnto-it, and whom God hath, of his infinit mercie, called thereto. The wicked, the vngodly, and the ignorant are thereby empaired. It is no historie to be fabulously reported, but a historie to be dutifully reverenced, awfully feared, and religiously adored. Are they not pleasantly conceited, who because they have reduced the same into the vulgar tongues, and that all men may vnder­stand-it, perswade themselves, that the people shall the better conceive and digest the same? Consisteth-it but in the words, that they vnderstand not all they find written? Shall I say more? By approaching thus little vnto it, they goe backe from it. Meere ignorance, and wholy relying on others, was verily more profitable and wiser, then is this verball, and vaine knowledge, the nurse of presumption, and sourse of temeritie. Moreover, I am of opinion, that the vncontrouled libertie, that all men have to wrest, dissipate, and wyre-draw a word so religious, and important, to so many severall idiomes, hath much more danger then profit following-it. The Iewes, the Mahometans, and well-nigh all other nations, are wedded vn­to, and reverence the language, wherein their mysteries and religion had originally been con­ceived; and any change or translation hath not without apparance of reason been directly forbidden. Know we whether there be Iudges enow in Basque and in Brittanie to establish this translation made in their tongue? The vniversall Church hath no more difficult and so­lemne judgement to make. Both in speaking and preaching the interpretation is wandring, free, and mutable, and of one parcell; so is it not alike. One of our Graecian Historians, doth justly accuse his age, for as much as the secrets of Christian religion were dispersed in all pub­like places, and even amongst the basest artificers; and that every man might, at his pleasure, dispute of it, and at randon speake his mind of the same. And it should be a great shame for vs, who by the vnspeakable grace of God injoy the pure and sacred mysteries of pietie, to suffer the same to be profaned in the mouthes of ignorant and popular people, seeing the verie Gentiles interdicted Socraetes and Plato, and the wisest, to meddle, enquire or speake of things committed vnto the Priestes of Delphos. Saying moreover, That the factions of Princes, touching the subiect of Divinitie, are armed, not with Zeale, but with anger. That zeale dependeth of divine reason and iustice, holding an orderly and moderate course, but that it changeth into hatred and envie, and in steed of corne and grape, it produceth nettles and darnell, if it be di­rected by humane passion. And justly saith this other, who counselling the Emperour Theodo­sius, affirmed that disputations, did not so much appease and [...]ull asleep the schismes of the Church, as stir vp and cause horesies. And therefore it behooved, to avoide all contentions, contro­versies, and logicall arguings, and wholy and sincerely refer himselfe vnto the prescriptions and orders of faith, established by our forfathers. And Andronicus the Emperour, finding by chance in his pallace, certaine principall men verie carnestly disputing against Lapodius, about one of our points of great importance, taunted & rated them verie bitterly, and threat­ned if they gave not over, he would cause them to be cast into the river. Children and wo­men doe now-adaies governe and sway the oldest and most experienced men concerning [Page 175] Ecclesiasticall Lawes: whereas the first that Plato made, forbiddeth them to enquire after the reason of civill Lawes, and which ought to stand in place of divine ordinances. Allow­ing aged men to communicate the same amongest themselves, and with the Magistrate, ad­ding more-over, alwaies provided it be not in the presence of yoong men, and before pro­sane persons. A notable Bishop hath left written, that in the other end of the world, there is an Iland called of our predecessours Dioscorida, verie commodious, and fertile of all sorts of fruits and trees, and of a pure and wholesome ayre; whose people are Christians, and have Churches and Altars; adorned with nothing else but crosses, without other images; great observers of fastings and holy daies; exact payers of their priests tithes; and so chaste, that none of them may lawfully all his life long know any more then one wife. And in all other matters so well pleased with their fortune, that being seated in the middest of the sea, they have and know no vse of ships: and so simple, that of their religion, which they so dili­gently and awfully observe, they know not, nor vnderstand so much as one onely word. A thing incredible, to him that know not how the Pagans, who are so devout and zealous ido­laters, know nothing of their Gods, but onely their bare names and statues. The ancient be­ginning of Menalippe, a tragedie of Euripides, importeth thus. Eurip.

I have also in my time heard certaine writings complained-of, forsomuch as they are meerly humane and Philosophicall, without medling with divinitie. He that should say to the contrarie (which a man might doe with reason) that heavenly doctrine, as a Queene and governesse doth better keep hir ranke apart; that she ought to be chiefe ruler and prin­cipall head every where, and not suffragant and subsidiarie. And that peradventure exam­ples in Grammer, Rethorike, and Logike, might more fitly and sortably be taken from else­where, then from so sacred and holie a subject, as also the arguments of theatres, plots of plaies, and grounds of publike spectacles. That mysteriously-divine reasons are more vene­rably and reverently considered alone, and in their native stile, then joyned and compared to humane discourse. That this fault is oftner seene, which is, that Divines write too hu­manely, then this other, that humanists write not Theologically enough. Philosophie, saith S. Chrysostome, is long since baenished from sacred schooles, as an vnprofitable servant, and deemed vn­worthie to behold, but in passing by the entrie, or the vestrie of the sacred treasures of heavenly doctrine. That the formes of humane speech, are more base, and ought by no meanes to make any vse of the dignitie, majestie, and preheminence of divine speech. As for my part, I give it leave to say, Verbis indisciplinatis, with vndisciplined words, Fortune, destinie, chance, accident, fate, good lucke, ill lucke, the Gods, and other phrases, as best it pleaseth. I propose humane fantasies and mine owne, simply as humane conceits, and severally considered; not as setled, concluded, and directed by celestiall ordinance, incapable of any doubt or alteration. A matter of opinion, and not of faith. What I discourse according to my selfe, not what I be­leeve according vnto God, with a laicall fashion, and not a clericall manner; yet ever most religious. As children propose their essayes, instructable, not instructing. And might not a man also say without apparance, that the institution, which willeth, no man shall dare to write of Religion, but sparingly, and reservedly, except such as make expresse profession of it, would not want some shew of profit and justice; and happily to me to be silent. It hath bin told me, that even those which are not of our consent, do flatly inhibite amongst them­selves the vse of the sacred name of God in all their vulgar and familiar discourses. They would have no man vse it as an interjection, or exclamation, nor to be alleaged as a witnesse, or compariton; wherein I find they have reason. And howsoever it be, that we call God to our commerce and societie, it should be zealously, seriously, and religiously. There is (as far as I remember) such a like discourse in Xenophon, wherein he declareth, That we should more rarely pray vnto God: for asmuch as it is not easie, we should so often settle our minds in so regular, so reformed, and so devout a seat, where indeed it ought to be, to pray aright and effectually: other­wise our praiers are, not onely vaine and vnprofitable, but vicious. Forgive vs (say we) our offences, as we forgive them that trespasse against vs. What else inferre we by that petition, but that we offer him our soule void of all revenge and free from all rancour? We neverthelesse [Page 176] invoke God and call on his aide, even in the complot of our grievousest faults, and desire his assistance in all maner of injustice and iniquitie.

The couetous man sueth and praieth vnto him for the vaine increase and superfluous pre­servation of his wrong-gotten treasure. The ambitious, he importuneth God for the conduct of his fortune, and that he may have the victorie of all his desseignes. The theefe, the pirate, the murtherer, yea and the traitor, all call vpon him, all implore his aide, & all solicite him, to give them courage in their attempts, constancie in their resolutions, to remove all lets and difficulties, that in any sort may withstand their wicked executions, and impious actions; or give him thanks, if they have had good successe; the one if he have met with a good bootie, the other if he returne home rich, the third if no man have seen him kill his enemie, and the last, though he have caused any execrable mischiefe. The Souldier, if he but go to besiege a cottage, to scale a Castle, to rob a Church, to pettard a gate, to force a religious house, or any villanous act, before he attempt-it, praieth to God for his assistance, though his intents and hopes be full-fraught with crueltie, murther, covetise, luxurie, sacri-ledge, and all iniquitie.

Margaret Queene of Navarre, maketh mention of a yong Prince (whom although she name not expresly, yet his greatnesse hath made him sufficiently knowne) who going about an amorous assignation, and to lie with an Advocates wife of Paris, his way lying alongst a Church, he did never passe by so holie a place, whether it were in going or comming from his lecherie, and cukolding-labour, but would make his praiers vnto God, to be his help and furtherance. I would faine have any impartiall man tell me, to what purpose this Prince invoked and called on God for his divine favour, having his mind onely bent to sinne, and his thoughts set on luxurie: Yet doth she alleage him for a speciall testimonie of singular devotion. But it is not onely by this example, a man might verifie, that women are not verie fit to manage or treat matters of Religion and Divinitie. A true and hartie praier, and an vnfained religious reconciliation from vs vnto God, cannot likely fall into a wicked and impure soule, especially when Sathan swaieth the same. He that calleth vpon God for his assistance, whilst he is engulphed and wallowing in filthie sinne, doth as the cut-purse, that should call for justice vnto his ayde, or those that produce God in witnesse of a lie.

There are few men, that would dare to publish the secret requests they make to God.

And that's the reason, why the Pithagorians would have them publike, that all might heare them, that no man should abusively call on God, and require any vndecent or vnjust thing of him, as that man;

The Gods did grievously punish the impious vowes of Oedipus, by granting them vnto him. His praier was, that his children might betweene themselves decide in armes the succes­sion of his estate; he was so miserable, as to be taken at his word. A man should not request that all things follow our will, but that it may follow wisedome. Verily, it seemeth, that we make no other vse of our praiers, then of a companie of gibrish phrases: And as those who employ holie and sacred words about witchcraft and magicall effects; and that we imagine their effect dependeth of the contexture, or sound, or succession of words, or from our coun­tenance. For, our soule, being full-fraught with concupiscence, and all manner of vngodly thoughts, nothing touched with repentance, nor moved with new reconciliation towards God, we headlong present vnto him those heedlesse words, which memorie affoordeth our tongue, by which we hope to obtaine an expiation and remission of our offences. There is nothing so easie, so sweet, so comfortable and favourable, as the law of God; she (of his in­finit mercie) calleth vs vnto him, how faultie and detestable soever we be; she gently stretch­eth forth hir armes vnto vs, and mildely receiveth vs into hir lap, how guiltie, polluted, and sinfull soever we are, and may be in after-times. But in recompence of so boundlesse and vnspeakable a favour, she must be thankfully accepted, and cheerfully regarded: and so gra­cious a pardon must be received with a gratitude of the soule, and at least, in that instant, that we addresse our selves vnto hir presence; to have our soule grieved for hir faults, peni­tent of hir sinnes, hating those passions and affections, that have caused or provoked vs to transgresse his lawes, to offend his Majestie, and to breake his commaundments. Plato saith, That neither the Gods, nor honest men will ever accept the offring of a wicked man.

The seven and fiftieth Chapter.

I Cannot receive that manner, whereby we establish the continuance of our life. I see that some of the wiser sort doe greatly shorten the same, in respect of the common opinion. What said Cato Iunior, to those who sought to hinder him from killing him-selfe? Doe I now live the age, wherein I may iustly be reproved to leave my life too soone? Yet was he but eight and fortie yeares old. He thought that age verie ripe, yea, and well advanced, considering how few men come vnto-it. And such as entertaine themselves with, I wot not what kind of course, which they call naturall, promiseth some few yeares beyond, might do-it, had they a priviledge that could exempt them from so great a number of accidents, vnto which each one of vs stands subject by a naturall subjection, and which may interrupt the said course, they propose vnto themselves. What fondnesse is-it, for a man to thinke he shall die, for, and through, a failing and defect of strength, which extreame age draweth with-it, and to propose that terme vnto our life, seeing it is the rarest kind of all deaths, and least in vse? We onely call it naturall, as if it were against nature to see a man breake his necke with a fall; to be drowned by shipwracke; to be surprised with a pestilence, or pleurisie, and as if our or­dinarie [Page 178] condition did not present these inconveniences vnto vs all. Let vs not flatter ourselves with these fond-goodly woords; a man may peradventure rather call that naturall, which is generall, common and vniversall. To die of age, is a rare, singular, and extraordi­narie death, and so much lesse naturall then others: It is the last and extreamest kind of dying: The further it is from vs, so much the lesse is it to be hoped for: Indeed it is the limit, beyond which we shall not passe, and which the law of nature hath prescribed vnto vs, as that which should not be outgon by any; but it is a rare priviledge peculiar vnto hir selfe, to make vs continue vnto-it. It is an exemption, which through some particular favour she bestoweth on some one man, in the space of two or three ages, discharging him from the crosses, troubles, and difficulties, she hath enterposed betweene both, in this long cariere and pilgrimage. Therefore my opinion is, to consider, that the age vnto which we are come, is an age whereto few arive: since men come not vnto it by any ordinarie course, it is a signe we are verie forward. And since we have past the accustomed bounds, which is the true measure of our life, we must not hope, that we shall goe much further. Having escaped so many occasions of death, wherein we see the world to fall, we must acknowledge that such an extraordinarie fortune, as that is, which maintaineth vs, and is beyond the common vse, is not likely to continue long. It is a fault of the verie lawes, to have this false imagina­tion: They allow not a man to be capable and of discretion, to manage and dispose of his owne goods, vntill he be five and twentie yeares old, yet shall he hardly preserve the state of his life so long. Augustus abridged five yeares of the ancient Romane Lawes, and de­clared, that for any man that should take vpon him the charge of judgement, it sufficed to be thirtie yeares old. Servius Tullius dispensed with the Knights, who were seaven and fortie yeares of age, from all voluntarie services of warre. Augustus brought them to fortie and five. To send men to their place of sojourning before they be five and fiftie or three score yeares of age, me seemeth, carrieth no great apparance with-it. My advice would be, that our vacation, and employment should be extended as far as might be for the publike com­moditie; but I blame some, and condemne most, that we begin not soone enough to em­ploy our selves. The same Augustus had been vniversall and supreame judge of the world, when he was but nineteene yeares old, and would have another to be thirtie, before he shall bee made a competent judge of a cottage or farme. As for my part, I thinke our minds are as full growne and perfectly joynted at twentie yeares, as they should be, and pro­mise as much as they can. A mind which at that age hath not given some evident token or earnest of hir sufficiencie, shall hardly give-it afterward; put hir to what triall you list. Naturall qualities and vertues, if they have any vigorous or beauteous thing in them, will produce and show the same within that time, or never. They say in Daulphiné,

Of all humane honorable and glorious actions, that ever came vnto my knowledge, of what nature soever they be, I am perswaded, I should have a harder taske, to number those, which both in ancient times, and in ours, have been produced and atchieved before the age of thirtie yeares, then such as were performed after: yea, often in the life of the same men. May not I boldly speak it of those of Hanniball, and Scipio his great adversarie? They lived the better part of their life with the glorie which they had gotten in their youth: And though afterward they were great men, in respect of all others, yet were they but meane in regard of themselves. As for my particular, I am verily perswaded, that since that age, both my spirit and my bodie, have more decreased then encreased, more recoyled then advanced. It may be, that knowledge and experience shall encrease in them, together with life, that bestow their time well: but vivacitie, promptitude, constancie, and other parts much more our owne, more important and more essentiall, they droope, they lan­guish, and they faint.

It is the bodie, which sometimes yeeldeth first vnto age; and other times the mind: and I have seene many, that have had their braines weakned before their stomake or legges. And forasmuch, as it is a disease, little or nothing sensible vnto him that endureth-it, and ma­keth no great shew, it is so much the more dangerous. Here I exclaime against our Lawes, not because they leave vs so long, and late in working and employment, but that they set vs a worke no sooner, and it is so late before we be employed. Me thinkes that considering the weaknesse of our life, and seeing the infinite number of ordinarie rockes, and naturall dangers it is subject vnto, we should not so soone as we come into the world, alot so great a share thereof vnto vnprofitable wantonnesse in youth, il-breeding idlenesse, and slow-learning pren­tissage.

The first Chapter.

THose which exercise themselves in controuling humane actions, finde no such let in any one part, as to peece them together, and bring them to one same lustre: For, they commonly contradict one an other so strangely, as it seemeth impossible they should be parcels of one Ware­house. Young Marius▪ is sometimes found to be the sonne of Mars, and other times the childe of Ʋenus. Pope Bonifae [...] the Eight, is reported to have entred into his charge, as a Fox; to have carried himselfe therein, as a Lion; and to have died like a dog. And who would thinke it was Nero, that lively image of cruelty, who being required to signe (as the custome was) the sentence of a criminall of­fendor, that had beene condemned to die, that ever he should answer? Oh would to God I could never have written! So neare was his heart grieved to doome a man to death. The world is so full of such examples, that every man may store himselfe; and I wonder to see men of vnderstanding trouble themselves with sorting these parcels: Sithence (me seemeth) irresolution is the most apparant and common vice of our nature; as witnesseth that famous verse of Publius the Comoedian:

There is some apparance to judge a man by the most common conditions of his life; but seeing the naturall instability of our customes and opinions; I have often thought, that even good Authors doe ill, and take a wrong course, wilfully to opinionate themselves about fra­ming a constant and solide contexture of vs. They chuse an vniversall ayre, and following that image, range and interpret all a mans actions; which if they cannot wrest sufficiently, they remit them vnto dissimulation. Augustus hath escaped their hands; for there is so ap­parant, so sudden and continuall a variety of actions found in him, through the course of his life, that even the boldest judges and strictest censurers, have beene faine to give him over, and leave him vndecided. There is nothing I so hardly beleeve to be in man, as constancy, and no­thing so easie to be found in him, as inconstancy. He that should distinctly and part by part, judge of him, should often jumpe to speake truth. View all antiquity over, and you shall finde it a [Page 184] hard matter, to chuse out a dozen of men, that have directed their life vnto one certaine, set­led, and assured course; which is the surest drift of wisedome. For, to comprehend all in one word, saith an ancient writer, and to embrace all the rules of our life into one, it is at all times to will, and not to will one same thing. I would not vouchsafe, (saith he) to adde anything; alwaies provided the will be just: for, if it be vnjust, it is impossible it should ever continue one. Verily, I have heeretofore learned, that vice is nothing but a disorder, and want of mea­sure, and by consequence, it is impossible to fasten constancy vnto it. It is a saying of Demost­henes, (as some report,) That consultation and deliberation, is the beginning of all vertue; and con­stancy, the end and perfection. If by reason or discourse we should take a certaine way, we should then take the fairest: but no man hath thought on it.

Our ordinary manner is to follow the inclination of our appetite, this way and that way; on the left, and on the right hand; vpward and downe-ward, according as the winde of occa­sions doth transport vs: we never thinke on what we would have, but at the instant we would have it: and change as that beast that takes the colour of the place wherein it is laid. What we even now purposed, we alter by and by, and presently returne to our former biase: all is but changing, motion, and inconstancy:

We goe not, but we are carried: as things that flote, now gliding gently, now hulling vio­lently; according as the water is, either stormy or calme.

Every day new toies, each houre new fantasies, and our humours moove and fleete with the fleetings and movings of time.

We floate and waver betweene divers opinions: we will nothing freely, nothing absolutely, nothing constantly. Had any man prescribed certaine Lawes, or established assured policies in his owne head; in his life should we daily see, to shine an equality of customes, an assured order, and an infallible relation from one thing to another ( Empedocles noted this deformi­ty to be amongst the Agrigentines, that they gave themselves so over vnto delights, as if they should die tomorrow next, and built as if they should never die) the discourse thereof were easie to be made. As is seene in yoong Cato: He that toucht but one step of it, hath tou­ched all. It is an harmony of well according tunes and which cannot contradict it self. With vs it is cleane contrary, so many actions, so many particular judgements are there requir'd. The surest way (in mine opinion) were to refer them vnto the next circumstances, without en­tering into further search, and without concluding any other consequence of them. During the late tumultuous broiles of our mangled estate, it was told me, that a yoong woman, not farre from mee, had head-long cast hir selfe out of a high window, with intent to kill hirselfe, onely to avoide the ravishment of a rascaly-base souldier, that lay in hir house, who offred to force hir: and perceiving that with the fall she had not killed hirselfe, to make an end of hir enterprize, she would have cutte hir owne throate with a knife, but that she was hindered by some that came-into her: Neverthelesse having sore wounded hirselfe, she voluntarily con­fessed, that the Souldier had yet but vrged hir with importunate requests, suing-solicitations, and golden bribes▪ but she feared he would in the end have obtained his purpose by compul­sion: [Page 185] by whose earnest speaches, resolute countenance, and gored bloud (a true testimony of hir chaste vertue) she might appeare to be the lively paterne of an other Lucrece, yet know I certainly, that both before that time, and afterward, she had beene enjoyed of others vpon easier composition. And as the common saying is; Faire and soft, as squemish-honest as she seemes, although you misse of your intent, conclude not rashly an inviolable chastitie to be in your Mistresse; For, a groome or a horse-keeper may find an houre to thrive in; and a dog hath a day. Antigonus having taken vppon him to favour a Souldier of his, by reason of his vertue and valour, commaunded his Phisicians to have great care of him, and see whether they could recover him of a lingring and inward disease, which had long tormented him, who being perfectly cured, he afterward perceived him to be nothing so earnest and diligent in his affaires, demaunded of him, how he was so changed from himselfe, and become so oc­wardish: your selfe good sir (answered he) have made me so, by ridding me of those in firmi­ties, which so did grive me, that I made no accompt of my life. A Souldier of Lucullus, ha­ving by his enemies been robbed of all he had, to revenge himself vndertooke a notable and desperat atempt vpon them; and having recovered his losses, Lucullus conceived a very good opinion of him, and with the greatest shewes of assured trust and loving kindnesse he could bethinke himselfe, made especiall accompt of him, and in any daungerous enterprize seemed to trust and employ him onely:

Imploy (said he vnto him) some wretch-stripped and robbed souldier

and absolutely refused to obey him. When we reade that Mahomet, having outragiouslie rated Chasan, chiefe leader of his Ianizers, because he saw his troup wel-nigh defeated by the Hungarians, and hee to behave himselfe but faintly in the fight, Chasan without making o­ther reply, alone as he was, and without more adoe, with his weapon in his hand rushed furi­ously in the thickest throng of his enemies that the first mette withall, of whom hee was in­stantly slaine: This may haply be deemed, rather a rash conceit, than a justification; and a new spight, then a naturall p [...]owes. He whom you saw yesterday so boldly-venturous, won­der not if you see him a dastardly meacoke to morrow next: for either anger or necessitie, company or wine, a sodaine fury or the clang of a trumpet, might rowze-vp his hart, and stir vp his courage. It is no hart nor courage so framed by discourse or deliberation: These cir­cumstances haue setled the same in him: Therefore is it no marvell if by other contrary cir­cumstance he become a craven and change coppy. This supple variation, and easie yeeld­ing contradiction, which is seene in vs, hath made some to imagine, that wee had two soules and others, two faculties; whereof every one as best she pleaseth, accompanieth and doth agi­tate-vs; the one towards good, the other towards evil. For somuch as such a rough diversitie cannot wel sort and agree in one simple subject. The blast of accidents, doth not only remove me according to his inclination; for besides, I remove and trouble my selfe by the instability of my posture, and whosoever looketh narrowly about himselfe, shall hardly see himselfe twise in one same state. Somtimes I give my soule one visage, and sometimes another, ac­cording vnto the posture or side I lay hir in. If I speake diversly of my selfe, it is because I looke diversly vpon my selfe. All contrarieties are found in hir, according to some turne or remooving, and in some fashion or other. Shamefast, bashfull, insolent, chaste, luxurious, peevish, pratling, silent, fond, doting, labourious, nice, delicate, ingenious, slowe, dull, froward, humorous, debonaire, wise, ignorant, false in wordes, true speaking, both liberall, co, vetous, and prodigall. All these I perceive in some measure or other to bee in mee, accor­ning as I stirre or turne my selfe; And whosoever shall heedefully survay and consider him selfe, shall finde this volubilitie and discordance to be in himselfe, yea and in his very judge­ment. I have nothing to say entirely, simply, and with soliditie of my selfe, without confu­sion, disorder, blending, mingling; and in one word, Distinguo is the most vniversall part of my logike. Although I ever purpose to speake good of good, and rather to enterprete those [Page 186] things, that will beare it, vnto a good sense; yet is it that, the strangenes of our condition ad­mitteth that we are often vrged to doe wel by vice it selfe, if wel doing were not judged by the intention only. Therefore may not a couragious acte conclude a man to be valiant. He that is so, when just occasion serveth, shall ever be so, and vpon all occasions. If it were an habi­tude of vertue, and not a sodaine humour, it would make a man equally resolute at all as­sayes, in all accidents: Such alone, as in company; such in a single combate, as in a set battell; For, whatsoever some say, valour is all alike, and not one in the street or towne, and another in the campe or field. As couragiously should a man beare a sickenes in his bed, as a hurt in the field and feare death no more at home in his house, then abroad in an assault. We should not then see one same man enter the breach, or charge his enemie with an assured and vn­douted fiercenesse, and afterward having escaped that, to vexe, to grive and torment him­selfe like vnto a seely woman, or faint-hearted milke-soppe for the losse of a sute, or death of a childe. If one chance to be carelesly base-minded in his infancie, and constantly-resolute in povertie; if he be timorously-fearefull at sight of a Barbers razor, and afterward stowtly­vndismayed against his enemies swordes: The action is commendable, but not the man. Divers Graecians (saith Cicero) can not endure to looke their enemy in the face, yet are they most constant in their sickenesses; whereas the Cimbrians, and Celtiberians, are meere con­trary. Nihil enim potest esse aequabile, quod non à certa ratione proficiscatur: For nothing can beare Cic. Tusc. qu. l. 2. f. it selfe even, which proceedeth not from resolved reason. There is no valor more extreame in his kinde, than that of Alexander; yet is it but in species, nor every where sufficiently full and vniversall. As incomparable as it is, it hath his blemishes, which is the reason that in the idle­est suspitions, he apprehendeth at the conspiracies of his followers against his life, we see him so earnestly to vex, and so desperately to trouble himselfe: In search and pursuite whereof he demeaneth himselfe with so vehement and indiscreet an injustice, and with such a demisse feare, that even his naturall reason is thereby subverted. Also the superstition, wherewith he is so throughly tainted, beareth some shew of pusilanimitie. And the vnlimited excesse of the repentance he shewed for the murther of Clitus, is also a witnesse of the inequalitie of his courage. Our matters are but parcels hudled-vp, and peeces patched together, and we endevour to acquire honour by false meanes, and vntrue tokens. Vertue will not bee fol­lowed, but by her-selfe: And if at any time wee borrow her maske, vpon some other occa­sion, she will as soone pull-it from our face. It is a lively hew, and strong die, if the soule be once dyed with the same perfectly, and which will never fade or be gone, except it carry the skinne away with-it. Therefore to judge a man, we must a long time follow, and very curi­ously marke his steppes; whether constancie doe wholy subsist and continue vpon hir owne foundation in him, Cui vivendi via consider at a atque provisa est, who hath forecast and conside­red the way of life; whether the variety of occurrences make him change his pace (I meane his Cic. parad. 5. way, for his pace may either be hastened or slowed) let him runne on: such a one (as sayeth the imprease of our good Talbot) goeth before the winde. It is no marvell (saith an olde writer) that hazard hath such power over-vs, since wee live by hazard. It is impossible for him to dispose of his particular actions, that hath not in grose directed his life vnto one cer­taine end. It is impossible for him to range all pieces in order, that hath not a plot or forme of the totall frame in his head. What avayleth the provision of all sorts of colours vnto one that knowes not what he is to draw? No man makes any certaine designe of his life, and we deliberate of it but by parcels. A skilfull archer ought first to know the marke he aimeth at, and then apply his hand, his bow, his string, his arrow and his motion accordingly. Our counsels goe a stray, because they are not rightly addressed, and have no fixed end. No winde makes for him, that hath no intended port to saile-vnto. As for me, I allow not greatly of that iudgement, which some made of Sophocles, and to have concluded him sufficient in the managing of domesticall matters, against the accusation of his owne Sonne, only by the sight of one of his tragedies. Nor do I commend the conjecture of the Parians, sent to reforme the Milesians, as sufficient to the consequence they drew thence. In visiting and surveying the Ile, they marked the Landes that were best husbanded, and observed the country houses that were best governed. And having registred the names of their owners; and afterward made an assemblie of the Townes-men of the Citie, they named and instituted those owners as new governours and magistrates, judging and concluding, that beeing good husbands and carefull of their houshold affaires, they must consequently be so of publike matters. We are [Page 187] all framed of flaps and patches and of so shapelesse and diverse a contexture, that every piece and every moment plaieth his part. And there is as much difference found betweene vs and our selves, as there is betweene our selves and other. Magnam rem puta, vnum hominem agere. Esteeme it a great matter, to play but one man.

Since ambition may teach men both valour, temperance, liberality, yea and justice: Sith covetousnesse may settle in the minde of a Shop-prentise-boy, broughtvp in ease and idle­nesse, a dreadlesse assurance to leave his home-bred ease, and forgoe his place of education, and in a small barke to yeeld himselfe vnto the mercy of blustring waves, mercilesse windes and wrathfull Neptune; and that it also teacheth discretion and wisedome; And that Ʋenus hirself ministreth resolution and hardinesse vnto tender youth as yet subject to the discipline of the rod, and teacheth the ruthlesse Souldier, the soft and tenderly effeminate heart of wo­men in their mothers lappes.

It is no part of a well-grounded iudgement, simply to iudge our selves by our exteriour actions: A man must throughl sound himselfe, and dive into his heart, and there see by what wards or springs the motions stirre. But forasmuch as it is a hazardous and high enrerprise, I would not have so many to meddle with it as doe.

The second Chapter.

THe world is nothing but variety, and dissemblance. Vices are all alike, in asmuch as they are all vices: And so doe happily the Stoikes meane it. But though they are equally vices, they are not equall vices; And that hee who hath started a hundred steps beyond the li­mites

is not of worse condition, then he that is ten steps short of it, is no whit credible: and that sa­criledge is not worse then the stealing of a Colewort out of a Garden.

There is as much diversity in that as in any other thing. The confusion of order and measure of crimes, is dangerous: Murtherers, Traitors and Tyrants, have too much gaine by it: it is no reason their conscience should be eased, in that some is either idle or lascivious, or lesse assiduous vnto devotion. Every man poiseth vpon his fellowes sinne, and elevates his owne. Even teachers doe often range it ill in my conceit. As Socrates said, that the chiefest office of wisedome, was to distinguish goods and evils. We others, to whom the best is ever in vice, should say the like of knowledge, to distinguish vices. Without which, and that very exact, both vertuous and wicked men remaine confounded and vnknowen. Now drunkennesse amongst others, appeareth to mee a grose and brutish vice. The minde hath more part else where; and some vices there are, which (if it may lawfully be spoken) have a kinde of I wot not what generosity in them. Some there are, that have learning, diligence, valour, prudence, wit, cunning, dexterity, and subtlety joyned with them; whereas this is meerely corporall, and terrestriall. And the grosest and rudest nation, [Page 188] that liveth amonst vs at this day, is onely that which keepeth it in credite. Other vices but alter and distract the vnderstanding, whereas this vtterly subverteth the same, and astonieth the body.

The worst estate of man, is where he looseth the knowledge and governemen of himselfe. And amongst other things, it is said, that as must wine boyling and working in a vessell, workes and sends vpward what ever it containeth in the bottome, so doth wine cause those that drinke excessively of it, worke vp, and breake out their most concealed secrets.

Iosephus reporteth, that by making an Ambassador to tipple-square, whome his enemies had sent vnto him, he wrested all his secrets out of him. Neverthelesse Augustus having trusted Lucius Piso, that conquered Thrace, with the secretest affaires he had in hand, had ne­ver cause to be discontented with him; Nor Tiberius with Cossus, to whom he imparted all his seriousest counsels, although we know them both to have so given themselves to drinking of wine, that they were often faine to be carried from the Senat, and both were reputed notable drunkards.

And as faithfully as the complot and purpose to kill Caesar committed vnto Cimber, who would daily be drunke with quaffing of wine, as vnto Cassius, that drunke nothing but water wherevpon he answered very pleasantly. What? shall I beare a Tyrant, that am not able to beare wine? We see our carowsing tospot German souldiers, when they are most plunged in their cups, and as drunke as Rats, to have perfect remembrance of their quarter, of the watch word, and of their files.

I would never have believed so sound, so deepe and so excessive drunkennesse, had I not read in Histories, that Attalus having envited to sup with him (with intent to doe him some notable indignity) the same Pausanias, who for the same cause killed afterward Philip King of Macedon, (a King who by the eminent faire qualities that were in him, bore a testimony of the education he had learned in the house and company of Epaminondas) made him so dead-drunke, that insensibly and without feeling, he might prostitute his beauty as the body of a common hedge-harlot, to Mulettiers, Groomes and many of the abject servants of his house. And what a Lady (whom I much honour and highly esteeme) told mee, protesting, that neere Burdeaux, towards Castres, where hir house is, a widdow Country-woman, repu­ted very chaste and honest, suspecting hirselfe to be with childe, told hir neighbours, tha had she a husband, she should verily thinke she were with childe. But the occasion of this suspition encreasing more and more, and perceiving hirselfe so big-bellied, that shee could no longer conceale it, she resolved to make the Parrish-priest acquainted with it, whom she entreated to publish in the Church, that whosoever hee were, that was guilty of the fact, and would avow it, shee would freely forgive him, and if hee were so pleased, take [Page 189] him to her husband. A certaine swaine or hyne-boy of hers, emboldned by this proclama­tion, declared, how that having one holliday found her well-tippled with wine, and so sound asleepe by the chimnie side, lying so fit and ready for him, that without a waking her he had the full vse of her body. Whom she accepted for her husband, and both live together at this day. It is assured that antiquitie hath not greatly described this vice. The compositions of diverse Philosophers speake but sparingly of it. Yea, and some of the Stoikes deeme-it not amisse for man sometimes to take his liquor roundly, and drinke drunke thereby to recreate his spirites.

Cato that strict censurer, aud severe corrector of others, hath beene reproved for much drin­king,

Cyrus that so far-renowned King, amongst his other commendations, meaning to preferre himselfe before his brother Artaxerxes, and get the start of him, aleageth, that he could drinke better, and tipple more then he. And amongst the best policed and formalest nations, the custome of drinking, and pleadging of healths was much in vse. I have heard Silvius, that excellent Phisitian of Paris affirme that to preserve the vigor of our stomake from em­pairing, it is not amisse once a moneth to rowze vp the same by this excesse of drinking; and lest it should grow dull and stupide thereby to stirre it vp. And it is written, that the Persians, after they had well tippled, were wont to consult of their chiefest affaires. My taste, my rellish and my complexion, are sharper enemies vnto this vice, then my discourse: For, be­sides that I captivate more easily my conceits vnder the auctoritie of ancient opinions, in­deede I finde-it to be a fond, a stupide and a base kinde of vice, but lesse malicious and hurt­full then others; all which shocke, and with a sharper edge wound publike societie. And if we cannot give our selves any pleasure, except (as they say) it cost-vs something; I finde this vice to be lesse chargeable vnto our conscience then others; besides, it is not hard to be pre­pared, difficult to be found; a consideration not to be despised. A man well advanced in yeares and dignitie, amongst three principall commodities he told me to have remaining in life, counted this: and where shall a man more rightly finde-it, then amongst the naturall? But he tooke-it ill, delicatenesse, and the choise of wines is therein to be avoided. If you pre­pare your voluptuousnes to drinke it with pleasure and daintily neate, you tie your selfe vnto an inconvenience to drinke-it other then is allwayes to be had. A man must have a mil­der, a loose and a freer taste. To be a true drinker, a man should not have so tender and squeamish a palat. The Germans doe in a maner drinke aqually of all sorts of wine with like pleasure. Their end is rather to gulpe it downe freely, then to taste it kindely. And to say truth they have it better cheape. Their voluptuousnesse is more plenteous and fuller. Se­condarily, to drinke after the French maner, as two draughts and moderatly, is over-much to restraine the favours of that God. There is more time and constancie required therevn­to. Our forefathers were wont to spend whole nights in that exercise, yea often times they joyned whole long dayes vnto them. And a man must proportion his ordinarie more large and firme. I have in my dayes seene a principall Lord; a man of great employment and enterprises, and famous for good successe, who without straining himselfe, and eating but an ordinary meales-meat, was wont to drinke litle lesse then five pottles of wine, yet at his rising seemed to be nothing distempered, but rather as we have found to our no small cost in managing of our affaires, over-wise and considerate. The pleasure of that, whereof we would make account in the course of our life ought to be employed longer space. It were necessary, as shop-boyes or labouring people, that we should refuse no occasion to drinke▪ and conti­nually to have this desire in our minde. It seemeth that wee dayly shorten the vse of this: and that in our houses, (as I have seene in mine infancie) breakefasts, nunchions, and bea­vers should be more frequent and often vsed, then now adayes they are. And should wee thereby in any sorte proceede towards amendment? Noverily. But it may be, that we have [Page 190] much more given our selves over vnto paillardise and all maner of luxurie then our fathers were. They are two occupations, that enter-hinder one another, in their vigor. On the one side, it hath empaired and weakned our stomake, and on the other, sobrietie serveth to make vs more jolly-quaint, lusty, and wanton for the exercise of love matters. It is a wonder to thinke on the strange tales I have heard my father report, of the chastitie of his times. He might well speake of it, as he that was both by art and nature proper for the vse and solace of Ladies. He spake little and well, few words, but to the purpose, and was ever wont to enter­mixe some ornament taken from vulgar bookes, and above all, Spanish, amongst his com­mon speeches: And of all Spanish authors, none was more familiar vnto him then Mar­cous Aurelius. His demeanour and carriage was ever milde, meeke, gentle, and very modest, and above all, grave and stately. There is nothing he seemed to be more carefull▪ of, then of his honesty, and observe a kinde of decencie of his person, and orderly decorum in his ha­bites, were it on foote or on hosebacke. He was exceeding nice in performing his word or promise; And so strictly conscientious and obsequous in religion, that generally he see­med rather to encline toward superstition, then the contrary. Though he were but a little man, his courage and vigor was great: he was of an vpright, and well proportioned stature, of a pleasing, cheerefull-looking countenance, of a swarthy hue, nimbly addicted, and exqui­sitely nimble vnto all noble and gentleman▪ like exercises. I have seene some hollow staves of his filled with lead, which hee wont to vse and exercise his armes withall, the better to en­able him-selfe to pitch to barre, to throw the sledge, the cast the pole and to play at fence: and shooes with leaden soles, which he wore to enure himselfe, to leape, to vault and to run. I may without blushing say, that in memory of himselfe, he hath left certain pety miracles amongst vs. I have seene him when hee was past three-score yeeres of age mocke at all our sports, and out-countenance our youthfull pastimes, with a heavy furr'd Gowne about him to leap in­to his saddle; to make the pommada round about a Table vpon his thumb; and seldom to as­cend any staires without skipping three or foure steppes at once. And concerning my dis­course, hee was wont to say, that in a whole Province there was scarse any woman of quali­tie, that had an ill name. Hee would often report strange familiarities, namely of his owne, with very honest women, without any suspicion at all. And protested verie religiouslie, that when he was married, he was yet a pure Virgine; yet had he long time followed the warres beyond the Mountaines, and therein served long, whereof hee hath left a Iournall-Booke of his owne collecting, wherein hee hath particularly noted, whatsoever happened day by day worthy the observation, so long as he served, both for the publike and his particular vse. And he was well strucken in yeeres, when he tooke a wife. For returning out of Italie, in the yeere of our Lord, one thousand five hundred eight and twenty, and being ful three and thir­ty yeeres olde, by the way hee chose himselfe a wife. But come we to our drinking againe. The incommodities of age, which neede some helpe and refreshing, might with some reason beget in me a desire or longing of this faculty: for, it is in a man the last pleasure, which the course of our yeers stealeth vpon vs. Good fellowes say, that naturall heate is first taken in our feete: That properly belongeth to infancie. From thence it ascendeth vnto the middle region, where it is setled and continueth a long time: and in mine opinion, there produceth the onely true, and mooving pleasures of this corporall life. Other delight and sensualities in respect of that, doe but sleepe▪ in the end, like vnto a vapour, which by little and little exhal­eth, and mounteth aloft, it comes vnto the throate, and there makes hir last bode. Yet could I never conceive, how any man may either encrease or prolong the pleasure of drink­ing beyond thirst, and in his imagination frame an artificiall appetite, and against nature. My stomacke could not well reach so farre: it is very much troubled to come to an end of that which it takes for his neede. My constitution is, to make an accompt of drinking, but to succeed meate, and therefore doe I ever make my last draught the greatest. And forasmuch as in age, we have the roofe of our mouthes commonly furred with rhume, or distempered, distasted and altered through some other evill constitution, wine seemeth better vnto vs and of a quicker relish, according as our pores be either more or lesse open and washed. At least I seldome relish the same very well, except it be the first draught I take. Anacharsis wonde­red to see the Graecians drinke in greater glasses at the end of their meales, then in the begin­ning. It was (as I imagine) for the very same reason, that the Germans doe-it, who never begin to carouse, but when they have well fed. Plato forbiddeth children to drinke any [Page 191] wine, before they be eighteene yeeres of age, and to be druncke before they come to for­ty. But to such as have once attained the age of fortie▪ he is content to pardon them, if they chaunce to delight themselves with it, and alloweth them somwhat largely to blend the in­fluence of Dionisius in their banquets, that good God, who bestoweth cheerefulnesse vpon men, and youth vnto aged men, who layeth and aswageth the passions of the minde, even as yron is made flexible by the fire: and in his profitable lawes drinking-meetings or quaffing companies as necessary and commendable (alwaies provided there be a chiefe leader a­mongst them to containe and order them) drunkenesse being a good and certaine tryall of everie mans nature; and therewithall proper to give aged men the courage to make merry in dancing and in musicke; things alowable and profitable, and such as they dare not vndertake being sober and setled. That wine is capable to supply the mind with temperance, and the bo­die with health. Notwithstanding, these restrictions, partely barrowed of the Carthaginians, please him well. Let those forebeare it that are going about any expedition of warre. Let e­very magistrate, and all judges abstain from▪ it at what time they are to execute their charge, and to consult of publike affaires▪ Let none bestow the day in drinking, as the time that is due vnto more serious negotiations, nor the nights wherein a man intendeth to get children. It is reported, that Stilpo the Philosopher, finding himselfe surcharged with age, did purpose­ly hasten his end, by drinking of pure wine. The like cause (though not wittingly) did also suffocat the vital forces, crazed through old age of the Philosopher Arcesilaus. But it is an old and pleasant question, whether a wisemans mind were like to yeelde vnto the force of wine.

Vnto what vanity doth the good opinion we have of our selves provoke-vs? The most temperate and perfectest minde of the world, findes it too great a taske to keep hirselfe vp­right, lest she fall by hir owne weakenesse. Of a thousand there is not one perfectly righte­ous and setled but one instant of her life, and question might be made, whether according to her naturall condition she might at any time be so. But to joyne constancie vnto it, in her last perfection: I meane if nothing should shocke her: which a thousand accidents may do. Lucretius that famous Poet, may philosophie and bandie at his pleasure: Loe where he lieth senslesse of an amorous potion. Thinkes any man, that an Apoplexie cannot as soone asto­nish Socrates, as a poore labouring man? Some of them have by the force of a sicknesse, for­got their owne names, and a slight hurt hath overthrowne the judgement of others. Let him be as wise as he can, in the end he is but a man; what is more fraile, more miserable, or more vaine? Wisedome forceth not our naturall conditions.

He must feele his eyes against the blow that threatneth him, being neere the brimme of a precipise, he must cry out like a child. Nature having purposed to reserve these light markes of her aucthoritie vnto herselfe, in expugnable vnto our reason, and to the Stoicke vertue: to teach him his mortalitie, and our insipiditie. He waxeth pale for feare, he blusheth for shame he groaneth feeling the cholike, if not with a desperate and lowd-roaring voyce, yet with a lowe, smothered and hoarse-sounding noyse.

Giddie-headed Poets, that faine what they list, dare not so much as discharge their Heroes Virg. Aeu. l. 6. [...] from teares.

[Page 192]Let it suffice him to bridle his affections, and moderate his inclinations; for, it is not in him to beare them away. Plutarke himselfe, who is so perfect and excellent a judge of hu­mane actions, seeing Brutus and Torquatus to kill their owne children, remaineth doubtfull, whither vertue could reach so farre, and whether such men were not rather moved by some other passion. All actions beyond the ordinarie limits, are subiect to some sinister interpretation: Forasmuch as our taste doth no more come vnto that which is above it, then to that which is vnder it. Let vs omit that other sect, which maketh open profession of fiercenes. But when in the very same sect, which is esteemed the most demisse, we heare the bragges of Metrodorus: Occupavite, Fortuna, at (que) cepi: omnésque aditus tuos interclusi vt ad me aspirare non Metr. Cic. Tusc. qu [...]st. l. 5. posses. Fortune, I have prevented, caught, and overtaken thee: I have mured and ramd vppe all thy passages, whereby thou mightest attaine vnto me. When Anaxarcus, by the appointment of Nicocreon, the tyrant of Cipres, being laid along in a trough of stone, and smoten with yron sledges, ceaseth not to crie out, streeke, smite, and breake; it is not Anaxarchus, it is but his vaile you martyr so. When we heare our martyrs, in the middest of a flame crie a loude vnto the Tyrant, this side is rosted enough, chop-it, eat it, it is full rosted, now begin on the other. When in Iosephus we heare a childe all to rent with biting snippers, and pierced with the breath of Antiochus, to defie him to death, crie with a lowde-assured and vndismaid voyce; Tyrant thou loosest time, loe I am still at mine ease; where is that smarting paine, where are those torments, wherewith whilom thou didst so threaten me? My constancie doth more trouble thee, then I have feeling of thy crueltie: Oh faint-hearted varlet, doest thou yeelde when I gather strength? Make me to fainte or shrinke, cause me to moane or lament, force me to yeeld and sue for grace if thou canst; encourage thy satellities, harten thy executio­ners; loe how they droope, and have no more power; arme them, strengthen them, flesh them. Verely we must needes confesse there is some alteration, and some furie (how holy soever) in those mindes. When we come vnto these Stoick evasions; I had rather be furious then voluptuous: the saying of Antisthenes. [...], Rather would I be mad, then Antist. Diogen. L [...]rs. l. 6. c. 1. merry. When Sextu [...]s telleth vs, he had rather be surprised with paine, then sensuality; when Epicurus vndertakes to have the goute, to wantonize and faune vpon him, and refusing ease and health, with a hearty cheerefulnesse defie all evils, and scornefully despising lesse sharpe griefes, disdayning to grapple with them, he blithely desireth and calleth for sharper, more forcible, and worthy of him:

Who would not judge them to be prankes of a courage remooved from his wonted seate? Our minde cannot out of hir place attaine so high. She must quit it and raise hir selfe a loft, and taking the bridle in hir teeth, carry and transport hir man so farre, that afterward hee wonder at himselfe, and rest amazed at his actions. As in exploites of warre, the heat and earnestnesse of the fight doth often provoke the noble-minded-souldiers, to adventure on so dangerous passages, that afterward being better advised, they are the first to wonder at it. As also Poets, are often surprised and rapt with admiration at their owne labours, and forget the trace, by which they past so happy a career. It is that, which some terme a fury or madnesse in them. And as Plato saith, that a setled and reposed man, doth in vaine knocke at Poesies gate. Aristotle likewise saith, that no excellent minde is freely exempted from some or other entermixture of folly. And he hath reason, to call any starting or extraordinarie conceit (how commendable soever) and which exceedeth our judgement and discourse, folly. For­somuch as wisedome, is an orderly and regular managing of the minde, and which she addresseth with measure, and conducteth with proportion; And take hir owne word for-it. Plato dispu­teth thus; that the facultie of prophesiyng and divination is far above-vs, and that when wee treate it, we must be besides our selves: our wisdome must be darkened and ouer shadowed by sleepe, by sickenesse, or by drowzinesse; or by some celestiall fury, ravished from hir owne seat.

The third Chapter.

IF, as some say, to philosophate be to doubt; with much more reason, to rave and fantasti­quize, as I doe, must necessarily be to doubt: For, to enquire and debate, belongeth to a scholler, and to resolve appertaines to a cathedrall master. But know, my cathedrall, it is the authoritie of Gods divine will, that without any contradiction doth sway-vs, and hath hir ranke beyond these humane and vaine contestations. Philip being with an armed hand en­tred the Countrie of Peloponnesus, some one told Damidas, the Lacedemonians were like to endure much, if they sought not to reobtaine his lost favour. Oh varlet as thou art (answered he.) And what can they suffer, who have no feare at all of death? Agis being demanded, how a man might do to live free, answered; Despising and contemning to die. These and a thou­sand like propositions, which concurre in this purpose, do evidently inferre some thing be­yond the patient expecting of death it selfe, to be suffered in this life: witnesse the Lacedemo­nian child, taken by Antigonus, and sold for a slave, who vrged by his master, to performe some abject service; Thou shalt see (said he) whom thou hast bought; for, it were a shame for me to serve, having libertie so neere at hand, and therewithall threw himselfe headlong downe from the top of the house. Antipater, sharply threatning the Lacedemonians, to make them yeeld to a certaine request of his; they answered, shouldest thou menace vs worse then death, we will rather die. And to Philip, who having written vnto them, that he would hinder all their enterprises; What? (say they) wilt thou also hinder vs from dying? That is the rea­son, why some say, that the wiseman liveth as long as he ought, and not so long as he can. And that the favourablest gift, nature hath bequeathed-vs, and which removeth all meanes from-vs to complaine of our condition, is, that she hath left-vs the key of the fieldes. She hath appointed but one entrance vnto life, but many a thousand wayes out of it: Well may we want ground to live vpon, but never ground to die in. As Boiocatus answered the Romanes. Why doost thou complaine against this world? It doth not containe thee: If thou livest in paine and sorrow, thy base courage is the cause of-it, To die there wanteth but will.

And it is not a receipt to one maladie alone; Death is a remedie against all evils: It is a most assured haven, never to be feared, and often to be sought: All comes to one period, whether man make an end of himselfe, or whether he endure▪ it; whether he run before his day, or whether he expect▪ it: whence soever it come, it is ever his owne, where ever the threed be broken, it is all there, it's the end of the web. The voluntariest death, is the fairest. Life dependeth on the will of others, death on ours. In nothing should we so much accommodate our selves to our humors, as in that. Reputation doth nothing concerne such an enterprise, it is follie to have any respect vnto it. To live is to serve, if the libertie to die be wanting. The com­mon course of curing any infirmitie, is ever directed at the charge of life: we have incisions made into vs, we are cauterized, we have limbes cut and mangled, we are let blood, we are di [...]ted. Go we but one step further, we need no more phisicke, we are perfectly whole. Why is not our jugular or throat veine as much at our commaund as the mediane? To extreame sicknesses, extreame remedies. Servius the Gramarian being troubled with the gowt, found no better meanes to be rid of it, then to applie poison to mortifie his legs. He cared not whe­ther they were Podagrees or no, so they were insensible. God giveth vs sufficient priviledge, when he placeth vs in such an estate, as life is worse then death vnto vs. It is weaknesse to yeeld to evils, but follie to foster them. The Stoikes say, it is a convenient naturall life, for a [Page 194] wiseman, to forgoe life, although he abound in all happinesse; if he do it opportunely: And for a foole to prolong his life, albeit he be most miserable, provided he be in most part of things, which they say to be according vnto nature. As I offend not the lawes made against theeves, when I cut mine owne purse, and carrie away mine owne goods; nor of destroyers when I burne mine owne wood: so am I nothing tied vnto lawes made against murtherers, if I deprive my selfe of mine owne life. Hegesias was wont to say, that even as the condition of life, so should the qualitie of death depend on our election. And Diogenes meeting with the Philosopher Speufippus, long time afflicted with the dropsie, and therefore carried in a lit­ter, who cried out vnto him; All haile Diogenes: And to thee no health at all, (replied Dio­genes) that endurest to live in so wretched an estate. True it is, that a while after, Speusippus as overtired with so languishing a condition of life, compassed his owne death. But this goeth not without some contradiction: For, many are of opinion, that without the expresse com­mandement of him, that hath placed vs in this world, we may by no meanes forsake the gar­rison of it, and that it is in the hands of God onely, who therein hath placed-vs, not for our selves alone, but for his glorie, and others service, when ever it shall please him to discharge vs hence, and not for vs to take leave: That we are not borne for our selves, but for our Coun­trie: The Lawes for their owne interest require an accompt at our hands for our selves, and have a just action of murther against-vs. Else as forsakers of our owne charge, we are puni­shed in the other world.

There is more constancie in vsing the chaine that holds-vs, then in breaking the same; and more triall of stedfastnesse in Regulus, then in Cato. It is indiscretion and impatience that hastneth our way. No accidents can force a man to turne his backe from lively vertue: She seeketh-out evils and sorrowes as her nourishment. The threats of fell tyrants, tortures and torments; executioners and torturers, doe animate and quicken her.

And as the other saith.

It is the part of cowardlinesse, and not of vertue, to seek to squat it selfe in some hollow­lurking hole, or to hide her selfe vnder some massie tombe, thereby to shun the strokes of fortune. She never forsakes her course, nor leaves her way, what stormie weather soever crosse-her.

The avoyding of other inconveniences doth most commonly drive vs into this, yea, some­times the shunning of death, makes vs to run into it. Mart. li. 2. [...]pig. 80. 2.

As those who for feare of a break-necke down-fall, doe headlong cast themselves into-it.

Plato in his lawes, alots him that hath deprived his neerest and deerest friend of life (that is to say, himselfe) and abridged him of the destinies course, not constrained by any pub­like judgement, nor by any lewde and inevitable accident of fortune, nor by any intole­rable shame or infamie, but through basenesse of minde, and weaknesse of a faint-fearfull courage, to have a most ignominious, and ever-reproachfull buriall. And the opinion which disdaineth our life, is rediculous: For, in fine it is our being. It is our all in all. Things that have a nobler and richer being, may accuse ours: But it is against nature, we should despise, and carelesly set our selves at naught: It is a particular infirmitie, and which is not seen in any other creature, to hate and disdaine himselfe. It is of like vanitie, that we desire to be other, then we are. The fruit of such a desire doth not concerne-vs, forasmuch as it contradicteth and hindereth it selfe in it selfe. He that desireth to be made of a man an An­gell, doth nothing for himselfe: He should be nothing the better by it: And being no more, who shall rejoice or conceive any gladnesse of this change or amendment for him?

The securitie, indolencie, impassibilitie, and privation of this lives-evils, which we pur­chase at the price of death, bring vs no commoditie at all. In vaine doth be avoide warre, that can not inioy peace; and boot [...]lesse doth [...] shun paine, that hath no meanes to feel rest. Amongst those of the first opinion, great questioning hath been, to know what occasions are suffi­ciently just and lawfull to make a man vndertake the killing of himselfe, they call that [...] a reasonable orderly out-let. For, although they say, a man must often die Alex. Aphr [...]d. for slight causes, since these that keep vs alive, are not verie strong; yet is some measure required in them. There are certaine fantasticall and braine-sicke humors, which have not only provoked particular men, but whole Nations to defeat themselves. I have heretofore alleaged some examples of them: And moreover we read of certaine Mi [...]sian virgins, who vpon a surious conspiracie hanged themselves one after an other, vntill such time as the Ma­gistrate provided for it, appointing that such as should be found so hanged, should with their owne halters be dragged naked through the streets of the Citie. When Threicion perswa­deth Cleom [...]nes to kill himselfe, by reason of the bad and desperate estate his affaires stood [Page 196] in, and having escaped a more honourable death in the battell which he had lately lost, mo­veth him to accept of this other, which is second to him in honour, and give the conqueror no leisure to make him endure, either another death, or else a shamefull life. Cleomenes with a Lacedemonian and Stoike courage, refuseth this counsell as base and effeminate: It is a receipt, (saith he) which can never faile me, and whereof a man should make no vse, so long as there remaineth but one inch of hope: That to live, is sometimes constancie and valour; That he will have his verie death serve his Countrie, and by it, shew an act of honour and of vertue. Threicion then believed, and killed himselfe. Cleomenes did afterwards as much, but not before he had tried and assayed the vtmost power of fortune. All inconveniences are not so much worth, that a man should die to eschue them. Moreover, there being so many suddaine changes, and violent alterations in humane things, it is hard to judge in what state or point we are justly at the end of our hope:

All things, saith an ancient Proverb, may a man hope-for, so long as he liveth: yea, but, answereth Seneca, wherefore shall I rather have that in minde; that fortune can do all things for him that is living, then this; that fortune hath no power at all over him, who knoweth how to die? Ioseph is seen engaged in so an apparant-approaching danger, with a whole na­tion against him, that according to humane reason, there was no way for him to escape; notwithstanding being (as he saith) counselled by a friend of his, at that instant, to kill him­selfe, it fell out well for him to opinionate himselfe yet in hope: for fortune, beyond all mans discourse, did so turne and change that accident, that without any inconvenience at all, he saw himselfe delivered: whereas on the contrarie Brutus and Cassius, by reason of the down-fall and rashnesse, wherewith before due time and occasion, they killed themselves; did vtterly loose the reliques of the Roman libertie, whereof they were protectors. The Lord of Ang [...] in the battell of Serisolles, as one desperate of the combates successe, which on his side went to wracke, attempted twise to run himselfe through the throat with his rapier, and thought by precipitation to bereave himselfe of the enjoying of so notable a victorie. I have seen a hundred Hares save themselves even in the Gray-hounds jawes: Aliquis carni [...]ics suo super­stes S [...]. epist. 13. suit. Some man hath out-lived his Hang-man.

Plinie saith, there are but three sorts of sicknesses, which to avoide, a man may have some colour of reason to kill himselfe. The sharpest of all is the stone in the bladder, when the vrine is there stopped. Seneca, those onely, which for long time disturbe and distract the offices of the minde. To avoide a worse death, some are of opinion, a man should take it at his owne pleasure. Democritus chiefe of the Aetolians, being led captive to Rome, found meanes to escape by night: but being pursued by his keepers, rather then he would be ta­ken againe, ran himselfe through with his Sword. Antinoüs and Theodotus, their Citie of Epirus being by the Romans reduced vnto great extreamitie, concluded, and perswaded all the people to kill themselves. But the counsell, rather to yeeld, having prevailed: they went to seeke their owne death, and rushed amidst the thickest of their enemies, with an inten­tion, rather to strike, than to warde themselves. The Iland of Gosa, being some yeares since surprised and over run by the Turkes, a certaine Sicilian therein dwelling, having two faire daughters readie to be married, killed them both with his owne hands, together with their mother, that came in to help them. That done, running out into the streets, with a crosse­bow in one hand, and a caliver in the other, at two shoots, slew the two first Turks that came next to his gates, then resolutely drawing his Sword, ran furiously among them; by whom he was suddainly hewen in peeces: Thus did he save himselfe from slavish bondage, having first delivered his owne from-it. The Iewish women, after they had caused their children to [Page 197] be circumcized, to avoide the crueltie of Antiochus, did headlong precipitate themselves and them vnto death. I have heard-it crediblie reported, that a gentleman of good qualitie, being prisoner in one of our Gaoles, and his parents advertized that he should assuredly be con­demned, to avoide the infamie of so reproachfull a death, appointed a Priest to tell him, that the best remedie for his deliverie, was to recommend himselfe to such a Saint, with such and such a vow, and to continue eight daies without taking any sustenance, what faintnesse or weaknesse soever he should feel in himselfe. He believed them, and so without thinking on it, was delivered both of life and danger. Scribonia perswading L [...]bo his nephew to kill him­selfe, rather then to expect the stroke of justice, told him, that for a man to preserve his owne life, to put it into the hands of such as three or foure dayes after should come and seek it, was even to dispatch another mans businesse, and that it was no other, then for one to serve his enemies, to preserve his blood, therewith to make food. We read in the Bible, that Nicanor the persecutor of Gods Law, having sent his Satellites to apprehend the good old man Ra­si [...]s, for the honour of his vertue, surnamed the father of the Iewes; when that good man saw no other meanes left him, his gate being burned, and his enemies readie to lay hold on him, chose, rather then to fall into the hands of such villaines, and be so basely abused, against the honour of his place to die noblie, and so smote himselfe with his owne sword; but by reason of his haste, having not throughly slaine himselfe, he ran to throw himselfe downe from an high wall, amongst the throng of people, which making him roome, he fell right vpon his head. All which notwithstanding, perceiving life to remaine in him, he tooke heart againe; and getting vp on his feet, all goared with bloud, and loaden with strokes, making way through the prease, came to a craggie and downe-steepie rocke, where vnable to goe any further, by one of his wounds, with both his hands he pulled out his guts, and tearing and breaking them, cast them amongst such as pursued him, calling and attesting the vengeance of God to light vpon them. Of all violences committed against conscience, the most in mine opinion to be avoyded, is that which is offred against the chastitie of women, foras­much as there is naturally some corporall pleasure commixt with it: And therefore the dissent cannot fully enough be joyned thereunto: And it seemeth, that force is in some sort, intermixed with some will. The ecclesiasticall Storie hath in especiall reverence, sundrie such examples of devout persons, who called for death to warrant them from the out-rages which some tyrants prepared against their religion and consciences. Pe [...]agia and Sophron [...]a, both canonized; the first, together with her mother and sisters, to escape the outragious rapes of some souldiers, threw her selfe into a river; the other, to shun the force of Maxen­tius the Emperour, slew her selfe. It shall peradventure redound to our honour in future ages, that a wise Author of these daies, and namely a Parisian, doth labour to perswade the Ladies of our times, rather to hazard vpon any resolution, than to embrace so horrible a counsell of such desperation. I am sorie, that to put amongst his discourses, he knew not the good saying I learnt of a woman at Tholouse, who had passed through the hands of some sol­diers: God be praised (said she) that once in my life, I have had my belly-full without sinne. Verily these cruelties are not worthy of the French curtesie. And God be thanked, since this good advertisement; our ayre is infinitely purged of them. Let it suffice, that in doing it, they say, No, and take it, following the rule of Marot. The historie is verie full of such, who a thousand waies have changed a lingering-toylsome life with death. Lucius Aruntius killed himselfe (as he said) to avoide what was past, and eschew what was to come. Granius Sylva­nus, and Statius Proximus, after they had been pardoned by Nero, killed themselves, either because they scorned to live by the favour of so wicked a man, or because they would not an­other time be in danger of a second pardon, seeing his so easie-yeelding vnto suspicious and accusations against honest men. Spargapises sonne vnto Queene T [...]miris, prisoner by the law of warre vnto Cyrus, employed the first favour that Cyrus did him, by setting him free, to kill himselfe, as he who never pretended to reap other fruit by his libertie, then to revenge the infamie of his taking vpon himselfe. Boges a Governour for king Xerxes in the countrie of Ionia, being besieged by the Athenians army vnder the conduct of Cymon, refused the com­position, to returne safely, together with his goods and treasure into Asia, as one impatient to survive the losse of what his Master had given him in charge; and after he had stoutly-and even to the last extremitie, defended the Towne, having no manner of victuals left him; first he cast all the gold, and treasure, with whatsoever he imagined the enemie might reap [Page 198] any commoditie by, into the river Strimon; Then having caused a great pile of wood to be set on fire, and made all women, children, concubines and servants to be stripped, & throwne into the flames, afterward ran-in himselfe, where all were burned. Ninache [...]uen a Lord in the East Indies, having had an inkling of the king of Portugales Viceroyes deliberation to dispossesse him, without any apparant cause, of the charge he had in Mala [...]a, for to give it vnto the king of Campar; of himselfe resolved vpon this resolution. First he caused an high scaffold to be set vp, somewhat longer then broad, vnderpropped with pillars, all gorge­ously hanged with rich tapistrie, strewed with flowers, and adorned with pretious perfumes: Then hauing put-on a sumptuous long roab of cloth of gold, richly beset with store of pre­tious stones of inestimable worth, he came out of the pallace into the street, and by certaine steps ascended the scaffold, in one of the corners whereof, was a pile of aromaticall wood set afire. All the people of the Citie were flocked together, to see what the meaning of such vnaccustomed preparation might tend vnto. Ninache [...]uen with an vndanted-bold, yet see­ming-discontented countenance, declared the manifold obligations, which the Portugal Nation was endebted vnto him for; expostulated how faithfully and truely he had dealt in his charge; that having so often witnessed, armed at all assayes for others; that his honour was much dearer vnto him then life, he was not to forsake the care of it for himselfe; that fortune refusing him all meanes to oppose himselfe against the injurie intended against him, his courage, at the least willed him to remoove the feeling thereof, and not become a laugh­ing stocke vnto the people, and a triumph to men of lesse worth then himselfe: which words as he was speaking, he cast himselfe into the fire. Sextilia the wife of Scaurus and Praxea wife vnto Labeo, to encourage their husbands, to avoid the dangers, which pressed them, wherein they had no share (but in regard of the interest of their conjugal affection) voluntarily enga­ged their life, in this extreame necessitie, to serve them, as an example to imitate, and company to regard. What they performed for their husbands; Cocceius Nerva acted for his countrie, and though lesse profitable, yet equall in true-love. That famous interpreter of the lawes, abounding in riches, in reputation, in credit, and flourishing in health about the Emperour, had no other cause to rid himselfe of life, but the compassion of the miserable estate, wherein he saw the Romane common-wealth. There is nothing can be added vnto the daintinesse of Fulvius wives death, who was so inward with Augustus. Augustus perceiving he had blab­bed a certaine secret of importance, which he on-trust had revealed vnto him; one morning comming to visit him, he seemed to frownevpon him for-it; whereupon as guiltie, he retur­neth home, as one full of despaire, and in pitteous sort told his wife, that sithence he was falne into such a mischiefe, he was resolved to kill himselfe; shee as one no whit dismaide, replide vnto him; Thou shalt do but right, since having so often experienced the incontinence of my tongue, thou hast not learnt to beware of it, yet give me leave to kill my selfe first, and without more adoe, ran her selfe through with a sword. Ʋibius Virius dispairing of his Cities safetie, besieged by the Romans, and mistrusting their mercie; in their Senates last consulta­tion, after many remonstrances employed to that end, concluded, that the best and fairest way, was to escape fortune by their owne hands. The verie enemies should have them in more honour, and Hanniball might perceive what faithfull friends he had forsaken: Enviting those that should allow of his advise, to come, and take a good supper, which was prepared in his house, where after great cheere, they should drinke together whatsoever should be presen­ted vnto him: a drinke that shall deliver our bodies from torments, free our minds from injuries, and release our eyes and eares from seeing and hearing so many horrible mischiefes, which the conquered must endure at the hands of most cruell and offended conquerors: I have (quoth he) taken order, that men fit for that purpose shall be readie, when we shall be expired, to cast vs into a great burning pile of wood. Diverse approved of his high resolu­tion, but few did imitate the same. Seaven and twentie Senators followed him; who after they had attempted to stifle so irkesome, and suppresse so terror-mooving a thought, with quaffing and swilling of wine, they ended their repast by this deadly messe: and entre-em­bracing one another, after they had in common deplored and bewailed their countries mis­fortunes; some went home to their owne houses, othersome staied there, to be entombed with Ʋibius in his owne fire; whose death was so long and lingring, forsomuch as the vapor of the wine having possessed their veines, and slowed the effect and operation of the poy­son, that some lived an houre after they had seene their enemies enter Capua, which they ca­ried [Page 199] the next day after, and incurred the miseries, and saw the calamities, which at so high a rate they had sought to eschew. Taurea Iubellius, another citizen there, the Consul Fulvius returning from that shamefull slaughter, which he had committed of 225. Senators, called him churlishly by his name, and having arested him; Command (quoth he) vnto him, that I al [...]o be massacred after so many others, that so thou maist brag to have murthered a much more valiant man then ever thou wast. Fulvius, as one enraged, disdaining him; forasmuch as he had newly received letters from Rome contrarie to the inhumanitie of his execution, which inhibited him to proceed any further; Iubellius continuing his speach, said; sithence my Countrie is taken, my friends butchered, & having with mine owne hands slaine my wife and children, as the only meane to free them from the desolation of this ruine; I may not die the death of my fellow-citizens, let vs borrow the vengeance of this hatefull life from vertue: And drawing a blade, he had hidden vnder his garments, therwith ran himselfe through, and falling on his face, died at the Consuls feet. Alexander besieged a citie in India▪ the inhabi­tants whereof, perceiving themselves brought to a very narrow pinch, resolved obstinately to deprive him of the pleasure he might get of his victorie, and together with their citie, in des­pite of his humanitie, set both the Towne & themselves on a light fire, and so were all consu­med. A new kind of warring, where the enemies did all they could, and fought to save them, they to loose themselves, and to be assured of their death, did all a man can possible effect to warrant his life. Astapa a Citie in Spaine, being very weake of wals, and other defences, to with­stand the Romanes that besieged the same; the inhabitants drew all their riches, and wealth into the market-place, whereof having made a heap, and on the top of it placed their wives and children, and encompassed and covered the same with drie brush wood, that it might burne the easier, and having appointed fiftie lusty yong men of theirs for the performance of their resolution, made a sallie, where following their determined vow, seeing they could not vanquist, suffered themselves to be flame every mothers childe. The fiftie, after they had massacred every living soule remaining in the Citie, and set fire to the heap, joyfully leaped there-into, ending their generous libertie in a state rather insensible, then dolorous and re­prochfull; shewing their enemies, that if fortune had been so pleased, they should aswell have had the courage to bereave them of the victorie, as they had to yeeld it them both vaine and hideous, yea, and mortall to those, who allured by the glittering of the gold, that moulten ran from out the flame, thicke and three-fold approching greedily vnto it, were therein smothe­red & burned, the formost being vnable to give backe, by reason of the throng that followed them. The Abideans pressed by Philip, resolved vpon the verie same, but being prevented, the King whose heart yerned and abhorred to see the fond-rash precipitation of such an execu­tion (having first seized-vpon and saved the treasure, and moveables, which they had diversly condemned to the flames and vtter spoyle) retiring all the Souldiers, granting them the full space of three daies to make themselves away, that so they might do it with more order and leasure: which three daies they replenished with blood and murther beyond all hostile cru­eltie: And which is strange, there was no one person saved, that had power vpon himselfe. There are infinite examples of such-like popular conclusions, which seeme more violent, by how much more the effect of them is more vniversall. They are lesse then severall, what dis­course would not doe in every one, it doth in all: The vehemence of societie, ravishing par­ticular judgements. Such as were condemned to die in the time of Tiberius, and delaide their execution any while, lost their goods, and could not be buried; but such as prevented the same, in killing themselves, were solemnly enterred, & might at their pleasure, bequeath such goods as they had to whom they list. But a man doth also sometimes desire death, in hope of a greater good. I desire (saith Saint Paul) to be out of this world, that I may be with Iesus Christ: and who shall release me out of these bonds? Cleombrotus Ambraciota having read Platoes Phaedon, was so possessed with a desire and longing for an after-life, that without other occasion or more adoe, he went and headlong cast himselfe into the sea. Whereby it appeareth how improperly we call this voluntarie dissolution, dispaire; vnto which the vio­lence of hope doth often transport-vs, and as often a peacefull & setled inclination of judge­ment. Iaques du Castell Bishop of Soissons, in the voyage which Saint Lewes vndertooke be­yond the Seas, seeing the King & all his Armie readie to returne into France, and leave the af­faires of Religion imperfect, resolved with himself rather to go to heaven; And having bid­den his friends farewell, in the open view of all men, rushed alone into the enemies troops of [Page 200] whom he was forthwith hewen in pieces. In a certaine kingdome of these late-discovered Indies, vpon the day of a solemne procession, in which the Idols they adore, are publikely caried vp and downe, vpon a chariot of exceeding greatnesse: besides that, there are many seen to cut and slice great mammocks of their quicke flesh, to offer the said Idols; there are numbers of others seen, who prostrating themselves alongst vpon the ground, endure verie patiently to be mouldred and crushed to death, vnder the Chariots wheeles, thinking there­by to purchase after their death, a veneration of holinesse, of which they are not defrau­ded. The death of this Bishop, armed as we have said, argueth more generositie, and lesse sence: the heat of the combate ammusing one part of it. Some common-wealths there are, that have gone about to sway the justice, and direct the opportunitie of voluntarie deaths. In our Citie of Marseille, they were wont in former ages, ever to keep some poison in store, prepared and compounded with hemlocke, at the Cities charge, for such as would vpon any occasion shorten their daies, having first approved the reasons of their enterprise vnto the six hundred Elders of the Towne, which was their Senate: For, otherwise it was vnlawfull for any bodie, except by the Magistrates permission, and for verie lawfully-vrgent occasions, to lay violent hands vpon himselfe. The verie same law was likewise vsed in other places. Sextus Pompeius going into Asia, passed through the Iland of Cea, belonging to Negropont; it fortuned whilst he abode there, (as one reporteth that was in his companie) that a woman of great authoritie, having first yeelded an accompt vnto her Citizens, and shewed good reasons why she was resolved to end her life, earnestly entreated Pompey to be an assistant at her death, that so it might be esteemed more honourable, which he assented vnto; and ha­ving long time in vaine sought, by vertue of his eloquence (wherein he was exceeding ready) and force of perswasion, to alter her intent, and remove her from her purpose, in the end yeelded to her request. She had lived foure score and ten yeares in a most happie estate of minde and bodie, but then lying on her bed, better adorned then before she was accustomed to have-it, and leaning on her elbow, thus she bespake: The Gods, Oh Sextus Pompeius and rather those I forgo, then those I go vnto, reward and appay thee, for that thou hast vouch­safed to be both a counseller of my life, and a witnesse of my death. As for my part, having hitherto ever tasted the favourable visage of fortune, for feare the desire of living overlong should make me taste of her frownes, with an happie an successefull end, I will now depart, and licence the remainder of my soule, leaving behind me two daughters of mine, with a legion of grand-children and nephewes. That done, having preached vnto, and exhorted all her people and kinsfolks to an vnitie and peace, and divided her goods amongst them, and recommended her houshold Gods vnto her eldest daughter, with an assuredly-staide hand she tooke the cup, wherein the poyson was, and having made her vowes vnto Mer­curie, and praiers, to conduct her vnto some happie place in the other world, roundly swal­lowed that mortall potion; which done, she intertained the companie with the progresse of her behaviour, and as the parts of her bodie were one after another possessed with the cold operation of that venome; vntill such time as shee said, shee felt-it worke at the heart and in her entrals, shee called her daughter to doe her the last office, and close her eyes. Plinie re­porteth of a certaine Hiperborean nation, wherein, by reason of the milde temperature of the aire, the inhabitants thereof, commonly never die, but when they please to make themselves away, and that being wearie and tired with living, they are accustomed at the end of a long­long age; having first made merrie and good cheare with their friends, from the top of an heigh-steedie rocke, appointed for that purpose, to cast themselves headlong into the Sea. Grieving-smart, and a worse death seeme to me the most excusable incitations.

The fourth Chapter.

I Doe with some reason, as me seemeth, give pricke and praise vnto Iaques Amiot above all our French writers, not only for his naturall puritie, and pure elegancy of the tongue, wher­in [Page 201] he excelleth all others, nor for his indefatigable constancie of so long and toyle-some a labour, nor for the vnsearchable depth of his knowledge, having so successefully-happy been able to explaine an Authour so close and thornie, and vnfold a writer so mysterious and en­tangled (for, let any man tell me what he list; I have no skill of the Greeke, but I see through out all his translation a sense so closely-joynted, and so pithily-continued, that either he hath assuredly vnderstood and inned the verie imagination, and the true conceit of the Authour, or having through a long and continuall conversion, lively planted in his minde a generall Idea of that of Plutarke, he hath at least lent him nothing that doth be [...]e him, or mis seeme him) but aboue all, I kon him thanks that he hath had the hap to chuse, and knowledge to cull out so worthy a worke, and a booke so fit to the purpose, therewith to make so vnvalu­able a present vnto his Countrie. We that are in the number of the ignorant had been vt­terly confounded, had not his booke raised vs from out the dust of ignorance: God-a-mercy his endevours we dare not both speak and write: Even Ladies are therewith able to confront Masters of arts: It is our breviarie. If so good a man chance to live, I bequeath Xenophon vnto him, to doe as much. It is an easier piece of worke, and so much the more agreeing with his age. Moreover, I wot not how me seemeth, although he roundly and clearly disin [...]angle himselfe from hard passages, that notwithstanding his stile is more close and neerer it selfe, when it is not laboured and wrested, and that it glideth smoothly at his pleasure. I was even now reading of that place, where Plutarke speaketh of himselfe, that Rusticus being present at a declamation of his in Rome, received a packet from the Emperour, which he tempo­rized to open vntill he had made an end: wherein (saith he) all the assistants did singularly commend the gravitie of the man. Verily, being on the instance of curiositie, and on the greedie and insatiate passion of newes, which with such indiscreet impatience, and impatient indiscretion, induceth vs to neglect all things, for to entertaine a new-come guest, and forget all respect and countenance, wheresoever we be, suddainly to break-vp such letters as are brought-vs; he had reason to commend the gravitie of Rusticus: to which he might also have added the commendation of his civilitie and curtesie, for that he would not interrupt the course of his declamation; But I make a question, whether he might be commended for his wisedome: for, receiving vnexpected letters, and especially from an Emperour, it might verie well have fortuned, that his deferring to read them, might have caused some notable inconvenience. Rechlesnesse is the vice contrarie vnto curiositie; towards which I am naturally enclined, and wherein I have seen many men so extreamly plunged, that three or foure daies after the receiving of letters, which hath been sent them, they have been found in their poc­kets yet vnopened. I never opened any, not onely of such as had been committed to my kee­ping, but of such as by any fortune came to my hands. And I make a conscience, standing neare some great person, if mine eyes chance, at vnwares, to steal some knowledge of any let­ters of importance that he readeth. Never was man lesse inquisitive, or pryed lesse into other mens affaires, then I. In our fathers time; the Lord of Bo [...]ieres was like to have lost Tur­win, forsomuch as being one night at supper in verie good companie, he deferred the reading of an advertisement, which was delivered him of the treasons that were practised and com­plotted against that Citie, where he commanded. And Plutarke himselfe hath taught me, that Iulius Caesar had escaped death, if going to the Senate-house, that day wherein he was murthered by the Conspirators, he had read a memoriall which was presented vnto him. Who likewise reporteth the storie of Archias, the Tyrant of Thebes, how the night fore-go­ing the execution of the enterprise that Pelopidas had complotted to kill him, thereby to set his Countrie at libertie: another Archias of Athens writ him a letter, wherein he particularly related vnto him all that was conspired and complotted against him; which letter being de­livered him whilst he [...]ate at supper, he deferred the opening of it, pronouncing this by-word: To morrow is a new day, which afterward was turned to a Proverb in Greece. A wise man may, in mine opinion, for the interest of others, as not vnmannerly to breake companie, like vnto Rusticus, or not to discontinue some other affaire of importance, remit and defer to vnder­stand such newes as are brought him: but for his owne private interest or particular pleasure, namely, if he be a man having publike charge, if he regard his dinner so much, that he will not break-it off, or his sleepe, that he will not interrupt-it: to doe it, is inexcusable. And in former ages was the Consulare-place in Rome, which they named the most honourable at the table, because it was more free and more accessible for such as might casually come in, to [Page 202] entertaine him that should be there placed. Witnesse, that though they were sitting at the board, they neither omitted nor gave over the managing of other affaires, and following of other accidents. But when all is said, it is verie hard, chiefely in humane actions, to prescribe so exact rules by discourse of reason, that fortune do not sway, and keepe her right in them.

The fifth Chapter.

MY brother the Lord of Bronze and my selfe, during the time of our civill wars, travel­ling one day together, we fortuned to meet vpon the way with a Gentleman, in out­ward semblance, of good demeanour: He was of our contrarie faction, but forasmuch as he counterfaited himselfe otherwise; I knew it not. And the worst of these tumultuous intestine broyles, is, that the cards are so shuffled (your enemie being neither by language nor by fa­shion, nor by any other apparant marke distinguished from you; nay, which is more, brought vp vnder the same lawes and customes, and breathing the same ayre) that it is a verie hard matter to avoide confusion and shun disorder. Which consideration, made me not a little fearfull to meet with our troopes, especially where I was not knowne, lest I should be vrged to tell my name, and happly doe worse. As other times before it had befalne me; for, by such a chance, or rather mistaking, I fortuned once to loose all my men and horses, and hard­ly escaped my selfe: and amongest other my losses, and servants that were slaine, the thing that most grieved me, was the vntimely and miserable death of a yoong Italian Gentleman, whom I kept as my Page, and verie carefully brought-vp, with whom dyed, as forward, as budding and as hopefull a youth as ever I saw. But this man seemed so fearfully-dismaid, and at every encounter of horsemen, and passage, by, or through any Towne that held for the King, I observed him to be so strangely distracted, that in the end I perceived, and ghessed they were but guiltie alarums that his conscience gave him. It seemed vnto this seely man, that all might apparantly, both through his blushing selfe-accusing countenance, and by the crosses he wore vpon his vpper garments, read the [...] intentions of his faint-hart. Of such marvailous-working power is the sting of conscience: which often induceth vs to bewray, to accuse, and to combate our selves; and for want of other evidences shee produ­ceth our selves against our selves,

The storie of Bessus the Poenian is so common, that even children have it in their mo [...]ths, who being found fault withall, that in mirth he had beaten-downe a neast of yong Spar­rowes, and then killed them, answered, he had great reason to do-it, forsomuch as those yong birds ceased not [...]alsely to accuse him to have m [...]rthered his father, which parricide was ne­ver suspected to have been committed by him; and vntill that day had layen secret; but the revengefull suries of the conscience, made the same partie to reveal it, that by all right was to doe penance for so hatefull and vnnaturall a murther. Hesiodus correcteth the saying of Plato. That punishment doth commonly succeed the guilt, and follow sinne at hand: for, he affirmeth, that it rather is borne at the instant, and together with sinne it selfe, and they are as twinnes borne at one birth together. Whosoever expects punishment, suffereth the same, and who­soever deferveth it, he doth expect▪ it. Imp [...]e [...]se doth invent, and iniquitie dooth frame torments against it selfe.

Even as the Waspe stingeth and offendeth others, but hir selfe much more; for, in hur­ting others, she looseth hir force and sting for ever.

The Can [...]harides have some part in them, which by a contrarietie of nature serveth as an antidot or counterpoison against their poison: so likewise, as one taketh pleasure in vice, there is a certaine contrarie displeasure engendred in the conscience, which by sundrie irk­some and painfull imaginations, perplexeth and tormenteth vs, both waking and asleep.

Apollodorus dreamed he saw himselfe first flead by the Scythians, and then boyled in a pot, and that his owne heart murmured, saying; I onely have caused this mischiefe to light vpon thee. Epicurus was wont to say, that no lurking hole can shroud the wicked; for, they can never assure themselves to be sufficiently hidden, sithence conscience is ever readie to disclose them to themselves.

Which as it doth fill vs with feare and doubt, so doth it store vs with assurance and trust. And I may boldly say, that I have waded through many dangerous hazards, with a more vntired pace, onely in consideration of the secret knowledge I had of mine owne will, and in­nocencie of my desseignes.

Of examples, there are thousands; It shall suffice vs to alleage three onely, and all of one man. Scipio being one day accused before the Romane people, of an vrgent and capitall ac­cusation; in stead of excusing himselfe, or flattering the Iudges; turning to them, he said. It will well beseeme you to vndertake to judge of his head, by whose meanes you have autho­ritie to judge of all the world. The same man, another time, being vehemently vrged by a Tribune of the people, who charged him with sundrie imputations, in liew of pleading or excusing his cause gave him this sodaine and short answere. Let vs goe (quoth he) my good Cit [...]zens; let-vs forthwith goe (I say) to give hartie thankes vnto the Gods for the victorie, which even vpon such a day as this is, they gave me against the Carthaginians. And there­with advancing h [...] selfe to march before the people, all the assemblie, and even his accuser him selfe did vndelayedly follow him towards the Temple. After that, Pe [...]lius having been a [...]mated and stirred vp by C [...] to solicite and demaund a strict accompt of him, of the mo­ney [...] had [...]auaged, and which was committed to his trust, whilst he was in the Province of [...]; Scipio being come into the Senate-house, of purpose to answer for himselfe, pul­l [...]ng ou [...] the booke of his accompts from vnder his gowne, told them all, that that booke contained truely, both the receipt and laying out thereof; and being required to deliver the same vnto a Clarke to register it, he refused to doe-it, saying, he would not doe himselfe that wrong or indignitie; and therevpon with his owne hands, in presence of all the Senate, tore the booke in pieces. I cannot apprehend or beleeve, that a guiltie-cauterized conscience could possil lie dissemble or cou [...]terfet such an vndismaied assurance: His heart was natu­rally too great, and enured to overhigh fortune (saith T [...]tus Livi [...]s) to know how to be a cri­minall offender, and stoopingly to yeeld himselfe to the basenesse, to defend his innocencie. Torture and racking are dangerous inventions, and seeme rather to be trials of patience then Essayes of truth. And both he that can, and he that cannot endure them, conceal the truth. For, wherefore shall paine or smart, rather compell me to confesse that, which is so indeed, then force me to tell that which is not? And contrariwise, if he who hath not done that whereof he is accused, is sufficiently patient to endure those torments; why shall not he [Page 204] be able to tolerate them, who hath done it, and is guiltie indeed; so deare and worthie a reward as life being proposed vnto him? I am of opinion, that the ground of his inven­tion, proceedeth from the consideration of the power and facultie of the conscience. For, to the guiltie, it seemeth to give a kind of furtherance to the torture, to make him confesse his fault, and weakneth and dismayeth him: and on the other part, it encourageth and strengthneth the innocent against torture. To say truth, it is a meane full of vncertaintie and danger. What would not a man say; nay, what not doe, to avoide so grievous paines, and shun such torments?

Whence it followeth, that he whom the Iudge hath tortured, because he shall not die an innocent, he shall bring him to his death, both innocent and tortured. Many thousands have thereby charged their heads with false confessions. Amongst which I may well place Phy­lotas, considering the circumstances of the end [...]ctment that Alexander framed against him, and the progresse of his torture. But so it is, that (as men say) it is the least evill humane weaknesse could invent: though, in my conceit, verie in humanely, and therewith all most vn­profitablie. Many Nations lesse barbarous in that, then the Grae [...]ian, or the Romane, who terme them so, judge it a horrible and cruell thing, to racke and torment a man for a fault whereof you are yet in doubt. Is your ignorance long of him? What can he doe withall? Are not you vnjust, who because you will not put him to death without some cause, you doe worse then kill him? And that it is so, consider but how often he rather chuseth to die guiltlesse, then passe by this information, much more painfull, then the punishment or tor­ment; and who many times, by reason of the sherpnesse of it, preventeth, furthereth, yea, and executeth the punishment. I wot not whence I heard this storie, but it exactly hath refe­rence vnto the conscience of our Iustice. A countrie woman accused a souldier before his Generall, being a most severe Iustic [...]r, that he, with violence, had snatched from out hir poore childrens hands, the smal [...] remainder of some pappe or water gruell, which shee had onely left to sustaine them, forsomuch as the Armie had ravaged and wasted all. The poore woman, had neither witnesse nor proofe of it; It was but hir yea, and his no; which the Generall perceiving, after he had summoned hir to be well advised what thee spake, and that shee should not accuse him wrongfully; for, if shee spake an vntruth, shee should then be culpable of his accusation: But shee constantly persisting to charge him, he forthwith, to dis­cover the truth, and to be throughly resolved, caused the accused Souldiers belly to be rip­ped, who was found faultie, and the poore woman to have said true; whereupon shee was dis­charged. A condemnation instructive to others.

The sixt Chapter.

IT is a hard matter (although our conceit doe willingly applie it selfe vnto it) that Dis­course and Instruction, should sufficiently be powerful, to direct vs to action, and addresse vs to performance, if over and besides that, we doe not by experience exercise and frame our mind, to the traine whereunto we will range-it: otherwise, when we shall be on the point of the effects, it will doubtlesse find it selfe much engaged and empeached. And that is the reason why amongst Philosophers, those that have willed to attaine to some greater excel­lence, have not been content, at home, and at rest to expect the rigors of fortune, for feare she should surprise them vnexperienced and find them novices, if she should chance to enter fight with them; but have rather gone to meet and front hir before, and witting-earnestly cast themselves to the triall of the hardest difficulties. Some have thereby voluntarily forsaken great riches, onely to practise a voluntarie povertie: others have willingly found out labour, and an austeritie of a toylesome life, thereby to harden and envre themselves [Page 205] to evill, and travell: othersome have frankly deprived themselves of the dearest and best parts of their body, as of their eyes, and members of generation, lest their over-pleasing, and too-too wanton service, might in any sort mollifie and distract the constant resolution of their minde. But to die, which is the greatest worke we have to doe, exercise can nothing a­vaile vs therevnto. A man may, by custome and experience, fortifie himselfe against griefe, sorrow, shame, want, and such like accidents: But concerning death, we can but once feele and trie the same. We are all novices, and new to learne when we come vnto it. There have, in former times, beene found men so good husbands and thriftie of time, that even in death they have assayde to tast and savour it; and bent their minde to observe and see, what man­ner of thing that passage of death was; but none did ever yet come backe againe to tell vs tidings of-it.

Canius Iulius, a noble Romane, a man of singular vertue and constancie, having beene condemned to death by that lewdly-mischievous monster of men, Caligula: besides many marvelous evident assurances he gave of his matchlesse resolution, when he was even in the nicke to endure the last stroke of the executioner; a Philosopher, being his friend, interrup­ted him with this question, saying: Canius, in what state is your soule now; what doth she; what thoughts possesse you now; I thought (answered he) to keep me readie and prepared with all my force, to-see whether in this instant of death, so short and so neere at hand, I might perceive some dislodging or distraction of the soule, and whether it will shew some feeling of hir sudden departure; that (if I apprehend or learne anything of hir) I may af­terward, if I can, returne, and give advertisement therof vnto my friends. Loe-here a Phi­losopher, not onely vntil death, but even in death it selfe: what assurance was it, and what fiercenes of courage, to will that his owne death should serve him as a lesson, and have leasure to thinke elsewhere in a matter of such consequence;

Me seemeth neverthelesse, that in some sort there is a meane to familiarize our selves with it, and to assay-it. We may have some experience of it, if not whole and perfect, at least such as may not altogether be vnprofitable, and which may yeelde vs better fortified and more assured. If we cannot attaine vnto it, we may at least approch-it, and discerne the same: And if we cannot enter hir sort, yet shall we see and frequent the approches vnto-it. It is not with out reason we are taught to take notice of our sleepe, for the resemblance it hath with death. How easily we passe from waking to sleeping; with how little interest we loose the know­ledge of light, and of ourselves. The facultie of sleepe might happily seeme vnprofitable, and against nature, sithence it depriveth vs of all actions, and barreth vs of all sense, were it not that nature doth thereby instruct vs, that she hath equally made vs, as wel to live, as to die; and by life presenteth the eternall state vnto vs, which she after the same reserveth for vs, so to accustome vs thereunto, and remove the feare of it from vs. But such as by some vio­lent accident are falne into a faintnes of heart, and have lost all senses, they, in mine opinion, have well-nigh beene, where they might beholde hir true and naturall visage: For, touching the instant or moment of the passage, it is not to be feared, it should bring any travell or displeasure with-it, forasmuch as we can have, nor sense, nor feeling without leasure. Our sufferances have neede of time, which is so short, and plunged in death, that necessarily it must be insensible. It is the approches that lead vnto it we should feare; and those may fall within the compasse of mans experience. Many things seeme greater by imagination, then by effect. I have passed over a good part of my age in sound and perfect health. I say, not onely sound, but blithe and wantonly-lustfull. That state full of lust, of prime and mirth, made me deeme the consideration of sicknesses so yrkesome and horrible, that when I came to the experience of them, I have found their fittes but weake, and their assaultes but faint, in respect of my apprehended feare. Lo here what I daily proove. Let me be vnder a roofe, in a good chamber, warme-clad, and well at ease in some tempestuous and stormy [Page 206] night. I am exceedingly perplexed, and much grieved for such as are abroade, and have no shelter: But let me be in the storme my selfe, I doe not so much as desire to be else-where. Onely to be continually pent vp in a chamber, seemed in tollerable to me. I have now enured my selfe to live a whole weeke, yea a moneth in my chamber full of care, trouble, altera­tion and weakenes; and have found, that in the time of my best health I moaned such as were sicke, much more, then I can well moane my selfe when I am ill at ease: and that the power of my apprehension did well-nigh halfe endeare the essence and truth of the thing it selfe. I am in good hope the like will happen to me of death: and that it is not worth the labor I take for so many preparations as I prepare against hir; and so many helpes as I call [...]osu­staine, and assemble to endure the [...]ocke and violence of it. But hab ornab we can never take too much advantage of it. During our second or third troubles (I doe not well remem­ber which) I fortuned one day, for recreation-sake, to goe forth and take the ayre, about a league from my house, who am seated even in the bowels of all troubles of our civill wars of France, supposing to be most safe, so neere mine owne ho [...]e and petreite, that I had no neede of better attendance or equipage. I was mounted vpon a very easie-going nagge, but not very sure. At my returning home againe, a sudden occasion being offered me, to make vse of this nagge in a peece of service, whereto he was neither trained not accustomed, one of my men (a-strong sturdie fellow) mounted vpon a yong strong-headed horse, and that had a desperate hard mouth, fresh, lustie and in breath; to shew his courage, and to out-goe his fe­woes, fortuned with might and maine to set spurres vnto him, and giving him the bridle, to come right into the path where I was, and as a Colossus with his weight riding over me and my nagge, that were both very little, he overthrew vs both, and made vs fall with our heeles vpward: so that the nagge lay along astonied in one place, and I in a trance groveling on the ground ten or twelfe paces wide of him; my face all torne and brused, my sword which I had in my hand a good way from me, my girdle broken, with no more motion or sense in me then a stocke. It is the onely swowning that ever I felt yet. Those that were with me, after thy had assayed all possible meanes to bring me to my selfe againe, supposing me dead, tooke me in their armes, and with much adoe were carying me home to my-house, which was about halfe a french league thence: vpon the way, & after I had for two houres space, by all, bin supposed dead and past all recoverie, I began to stir and breathe: for, so great aboun­dance of blood was falne into my stomake, that to discharge it, nature was forced to roweze vp hir spirits. I was imediately set vpon my feete, and bending forward, I presently cast vp, n quantitie as much clottie pure blood, as abucket will hold, and by the way was constra [...] ­ned to doe the like divers times before I could get home, whereby I begane to recover [...]ttle life, but it was by little and little, and so long adoing, that my chiefe senses were much more enclining to death then to life.

The remenbrance whereof (which yet I beare deepely imprinted in my minde) represen­ting me hir visage and Idea so livele and so naturally, doth in some sort reconcile me vnto hir. And when I began to see, it was with so dim, so weake and so troubled a sight, that I could not discrene any thing of the light,

Touching the function of the soule, they started vp and came in the same progresse as those of the body. I perceived my selfe all bloodie; for my doublet was all sullied with the blood I had cast. The first conceit I apprehended, was, that I had received some shot in my head; and in truth, at the same instant, there were divers that shot round about vs. Me thought, my selfe had no other hold of me, but of my lippes-ends. I closed mine eyes, to helpe (as me seemed) to send it forth, and tooke a kind of pleasure to linger and languishing­ly to let my selfe goe from my selfe. It was an imagination swimming superficially in my minde, as weake and as tender as all the rest: but in truth, not onely exempted from displea­sure, [Page 207] but rather commixt with that pleasant sweetenesse, which they feele that suffer them­selves to fall into a soft-slumbring and sense-entrancing sleepe. I beleeve it is the same state, they find themselves in, whom in the agonie of death we see to droop and faint thorow weak­nesse: and am of opinion, we plaine and moane them without cause, esteeming that either they are agitated with grieveous pangs, or that their soule is pressed with painfull cogitations. It was ever my conceite, against the opinion of many, yea and against that of Stephanus la Boetie, that those whom we see, so overwhelmed, and faintly-drooping at the approches of their end, or vtterly cast downe with the lingring tediousnes of their deseases, or by accident of some apoplexie, or falling-evill,

or hurt in the head, whom we heare throb and rattle, and send forth grones and gaspes, al­though we gather some tokens from them, whereby it seemeth, they have yet some know­ledge left and certain motions we see them make with their body: I say, I have ever thought, they had their soule and body buried and a sleepe.

‘Viuat & est vitae nescius ipse suae.’ Ovid. trist. lib. 1. el. 3. 12.

And I could not beleeve, that at so great an astonishment of members, and deffailance of senses, the soule could maintaine any force within, to know hirselfe; and therefore had no manner of discourse tormenting them, which might make them judge and feele the misery of their condition, and that consequently they were not greatly to be moaned. As for my selfe, I imagine no state so intolerable nor condition so horrible, as to have a feelingly-af­flicted soule, voide of meanes to disburthen and declare hir-selfe: As I would say of those we send to execution, having first caused their tongne to be cut out, were it not that in this manner of death, the most dumbe seemes vnto me the fittest, namely if it be accompanied with a resolute and grave countenance. And as those miserable prisoners which light in the hands of those hard-harted and villenous Souldiers of these times, of whom they are tor­mented with all manner of cruell entreatie, by compulsion to drawe them vnto some ex­cessive and vnpossible ransome, keeping them all that while in so hard a condition and place, that they have no way left them to vtter their thoughts and expresse their miserie. The Poets have fained, there were some Gods, that fauoured the release of such as sufferd so languishing deaths. ‘—hunc ego Diti Virg. Aen. lib. 4. 703. [...]r [...]. Sacrumiussa fero, téque isto corpore soluo.’

And the faltering speeches and vncertaine answeres, that by continuall ringing in their eares and incessantvrging them are somtimes by force wrested from them or by the motions which seeme to have some simpathie with that whereof they are examined, is notwithstand­ing no witnes, that they live at least a perfect sound life. We doe also in yawning, before fleep fully seize vpon vs, apprehend as it were in a slumber, what is done about vs, and with a troubled and vncertain hearing, follow the voyces, which seeme to sound but on the outward limits of our soule; and frame answers according to the last words we heard, which taste more of chance then of sense: which thing now I have proved by experience, I [...]ake no doubt, but hitherto, I have well judged of it. For, first lying as in a trance, I labo [...]ed even with my na les to open my doublet (for I was vnarmed) and well I wot, that in [...]y imagination I felt nothing did hurt me. For, there are several motions in vs, which preceed not of our free wil▪

Those that fall, doe commonly by a naturall impulsion cast their armes abroade before their falling, which sheweth, that our members have certaine offices, which they lend one to another, and possesse certain agitations, apart from our discourse:

My stomacke was surcharged with clotted blood, my hands of themselves were still run­ning to it, as often they are wont (yea against the knowledg of our will) where we feele it to itch. There are many creatures, yea and some men, in whom after they are dead, we may see their muskles to close and stirre. All men know by experience, there be some partes of our bodies, which often without any consent of ours, doe stirre, stand and lie downe a­gaine. Now these passions, which but exteriourly touch vs, can not properly be termed ours; For, to make them ours, a man must wholy be engaged vnto them: And the paines that our feete or handes feele whilest we sleepe, are not ours. When I came neere my house, where the tidings of my fall was alreadie come, and those of my housholde met me, with such outcries as are vsed in like times, I did not onely answere some words, to what I was de­manded, but some tell me, I had the memory to commaund my men to give my wife a horse, whom I perceived to be over-tired, and labouring in the way, which is very hilly, fowle, and rugged. It seemeth this consideration proceeded from a vigilant soule: yet was I cleane distracted from-it, they were but vaine conceits, and as in a cloud, onely moved by the sense of the eyes and eares: They came not from my selfe. All which notwithstanding, I knew neither whence I came, nor whither I went, nor could I vnderstand or consider what was spoken vnto me. They were but light effects, that my senses produced of themselves, as it were of custome. Whatsoever the soule did assist-it with, was but a dreame, being lightly touched, and only sprinkled by the soft impression of the senses. In the meane time my state was verily most pleasant and easefull. I felt no maner of care or affliction, nither for my selfe nor others. It was a slumbering, langushing and extreame weaknesse, without anie paine at all. I saw mine owne house and knew it not; when I was laide in my bedde, I felt great ease in my rest, For I had beene vilely hurred and haled by those poore men, which had taken the paines to carry me vpon their armes a long and wearysome way, and to say truth, they had all beene wearied twice or thrice over, and were faine to shift severall times. Ma­ny remedies were presently offerd me, but I tooke none, supposing verily I had beene dead­ly hurt in the head. To say truth, it had beene a very happy death: For, the weakenesse of my discourse hinderd me from judging of it, and the feeblenes of my body from feeling the same. Me-thought I was yeelding vp the ghost so gently, and after so easie and indolent a maner, that I feele no other action lesse burthensome then that was. But when I beganne to come to life againe and recover my former strength,

which was within two or three houres after, I presently felt my selfe full of aches and paines all my body over; for, each part thereof was with the violence of the fall much brused and tainted; and for two or three nights after I found my selfe so ill, that I verily supposed I should have had another fit of death: But that a more lively, and sensible one: (and to speak plaine) I feel my bru [...] yet, and feare me shall doe while I live: I will not forget to tell you, that the last thing I could rightly fall into againe, was the remembrance of this accident, and I made my men many times to repeat me over and over againe, whither I was going, whence I came, and at what houre that chance befell me, before I could throughly conceive it. Concerning the maner of my falling they in favor of him who had bin the cause of it, concealed the truth [Page 209] from me, and told me other flim flam tales. But a while after, and the morrow next when my memorie beganne to come to it selfe againe, and represent the state vnto me, wherein I was at the instant, when I perceived the horse riding over me (for being at my heeles, I chan­ced to espie him, and helde my selfe for dead; yet was the conceite so sodaine, that feare had no leasure to enter my thoughts) me seemed it was a flashing or lightning, that smote my soule with shaking, and that I came from another world. This discourse of so slight an accident, is but vaine and frivolous, were not the instructions I have drawne from thence, for my vse: For truly, for a man to acquaint himselfe with death, I finde no better way, then to approch vnto it. Now as Plinie saith, every man is a good discipline vnto himselfe alwayes provided he be able to prie into himselfe. This is not my doctrine, it is but my stu­die; And not another mans lesson, but mine owne. Yet ought no man to blame me if I im­part the same. What serves my turne, may happily serve another mans; otherwise I marre nothing, what I make vse of, is mine owne. And if I play the foole, it is at mine owne cost, and without any other bodies interest. For it is but a kind of folly, that dies in me, and hath no traine. We have notice but of two or three former ancients, that have trodden this path; yet can we not say, whether altogether like vnto this of mine, for we know but their names. No man since hath followed their steppes: it is a thorny and crabbed enterprise, and more then it makes shew of, to follow so strange and vagabond a path, as that of our spirit: to pe­netrate the shady, and enter the thicke-covered depths of these internall winding crankes; To chuse so many, and settle so severall aires of his agitations: And tis a new extraordinary ammusing, that distracts vs from the common occupation of the world, yea and from the most recommended: Many yeares are past since I have no other aime, whereto my thoughts bend, but my selfe, and that I controule and study nothing but my selfe. And if I study any thing else, it is imediatly to place it vpon, or to say better, in my selfe. And me thinkes I erre not, as commonly men doe in other sciences, without all comparison lesse profitable. I im­part what I have learn't by this, although I greatly con [...]ent not my selfe with the progresse I have made therein. There is no description so hard, nor so profitable, as is the description of a mans owne life. Yet must a man handsomely trimme vp, yea and dispose and range himselfe to ap­peare on the Theatre of this world. Now I continually tricke vp my selfe; for I vncessantly describe my selfe. Custome hath made a mans speech of himselfe, vicious. And obstinately forbids it in hatred of boasting, which ever seemeth closely to follow ones selfe witnesses, whereas a man should wipe a childes nose, that is now called to vn nose himselfe.

I finde more evill then good by this remedie: But suppose it were true, that for a man to entertaine the company with talking of himselfe, were necessarily presumption: I ought not following my generall intent, to refuse an action, that publisheth this crazed quality, since I have it in my selfe: and I should not conceale this fault, which I have not onely in vse, but in profession. Neverthelesse to speake my opinion of it, this custome to condemne wine is much to blame, because many are therewith made drunke. Onely good things may be ab­vsed. And I believe this rule hath onely regard to popular defects: They are snaffles where­with neither Saints, nor Philosophers, nor Devines, whom we heare so gloriously to speake of then sulves, will in any sort be bridled. No more doe I, though I be no more the one then other. If they write purposely or directly of it, yet when occasion doth conveniently leade them vnto it, faine they not, headlong to cast themselves into the listes? Whereof doth S­craetes treate more at large, then of himselfe? To what doth he more often direct his Disci­ples discourses, then to speake of themselves, not for their bookes lesson, but of the essence and mooving of their soule? We religiously shriue our selves to God and our confessour as our neighbours to all the people. But will some answere me, we reporte but accusation; wee then reporte all: For, even our vertue it selfe is faultie and repentable; My arte and pro­fession, is to live. Who forbids me to speake of it, according to my sense, experience, and custome; Let him appoint the Architect to speake of buildings, not according to himselfe, but his neighbours, according to anothers skill, and not his owne. If it be a glory, for a man to publish his owne worth himselfe, why doth not Cicero prefer the eloquence of Horten­sius, and Hortensius that of Ciceror. Some may peradventure suppose that by deedes and ef­fects [Page 210] and not simply by words, I witnesse of my selfe. I principally set forth my cogitations; a shapeletle subject, and which cannot fall within the compasse of a worke-manlike produ­ction: with much adoe can I set it downe in this ayrie body of the voice. Wiser men, and more learned and devout, have lived avoyding all apparant effects. Effects would speake more of fortune, then of me. They witnesse their part, and not mine; vnlesse it be conjectu­rally and vncertainly: Parcels of a particular shew: I wholy set forth and expose my selfe: It is a Sceletos; where at first sight appeare all the veines, muskles, gristles, sinnewes, and ten­dons, each severall part in his due place. The effect of the cough produceth one part, that of palenesse ot panting of the heart another, and that doubtfully. I write not my gests, but my selfe and my essence. I am of opinion that a man must be very wise to esteeme himselfe, and equally consciencious to give testimony of it: be it low, be it high indifferently. If I did ab­solutely seeme good and wise vnto my selfe, I would boldly declare it. To speake lesse of himselfe then he possesseth, is folly and not modesty. To pay himselfe for lesse then he is worth, is basenesse and pusilanimity, saith Aristotle. No vertue aides it selfe with false-hood; and truth is never a matter of errour. And yet for a man to say more of himselfe, then he can well prove, is not ever presumption, though often sottishnesse. For a man to over-weene, and please himselfe exceedingly with what he is, and fall into indifereet love with himselfe, is in my conceit, the substance of this vice. The best remedy to cure him, is to doe cleane contrary to that which those appoint, who inforbidding men to speake of themselves, doe consequently also inhibite more to thinke of themselves. Pride consisteth in conceit: The tongue can have no great share in it. For one to ammuse on himselfe, is in their imagination to please himselfe: And for a man to frequent and practise himselfe, is at an over-deare rate to please himselfe. But this excesse doth onely breed in them, that but superficially feele and search themselves, that are seene to follow their affaires, which call idlenesse and fond­nesse, for a man to entertaine, to applaud and to endeare himselfe, and frame Chimeraes, or build Castles in the ayre; deeming themselves as a third person and strangers to themselves. If any be besotted with his owne knowledge, looking vpon himselfe, let him cast his eyes to­wards former ages, his pride shall be abated, his ambition shall be quailed; for there shall he finde many thousands of spirits, that will cleane suppresse and treade him vnder. If he for­tune to enter into any selfe-presumption of his owne worth, let him but call to remembrance the lives of Scipio and Epaminondas; so many armies, and so many Nations, which leave him so far behind them. No particular quality shall make him proud, that therewith shall reckon so many imperfect and weake qualities that are in him and at last, the nullity of humane con­dition. Forsomuch as Socrates had truely onely nibled on the precept of his God, to know himselfe, and by that study had learned to contemne himselfe, he alone was esteemed wor­thy of the name of Wise. Whosoever shall so know himselfe, let him boldly make himselfe knowen by his owne mouth:

The seuenth Chapter.

THose which write the life of Augustus Caesar, note this in his military discipline, that he was exceeding liberall and lauish in his gifts to such as were of any desert; but as spa­ring and strait-handed in meere recompences of honour. Yet is it that himselfe had been li­berally gratified by his Vnckle with militarie rewards, before euer he went to warres. It hath beene a wittie inuention, and receiued in most parts of the worlds Common-wealths, to establish and ordaine certaine vaine and worthles markes, therewith to honor and recom­pence vertue: As are the wreathes of Lawrell, the Chaplets of Oake, and the Garlands of Myrtle, the forme of a certaine peculiar garment; the priuiledge to ride in Coch through the Citie; or by night to haue a Torch carried before one: Some particular place to sit-in in common assemblies; the prerogatives of certaine surnames and titles, and proper additions in armes, and such like things; the vse wherof hath beene diuersly receiued according to the [Page 211] opinions of Nations, which continueth to this day. We have for our part, together with di­vers of our neighbour-Nation, the orders of Knight-hood, which only were established to this purpose. Verily it is a most laudable vse, and profitable custome, to find meanes to re­ward the worth, and acknowledge the valour of rare and excellent men, to satisfie and con­tent them with such payments, as in no sort charge the common wealth, and put the Prince to no cost at all. And that which was ever knowne by ancient experience, and at other times we have plainely perceived amongst ourselves, that men of qualitie, were ever more jealous of such recompences, then of others, wherein was both gaine and profit: which was not without reason and great apparance. If to the prize, which ought simply to be of honour, there be other commodities and riches joyned, this kinde of commixing, in stead of en­creasing the estimation thereof, doeth empaire, dissipate, and abridge-it. The order of the Knights of Saint Michaell in France, which of so long continuance hath bin in credite amongst vs, had no greater commoditie then that it had no manner of communication with any other advantage or profite, which hath hecretofore beene the cause, that there was no charge or state of what quality soever, whereto the nobilitie pretended with so much desire, or aspired with more affection, as it did to obtaine that order; nor calling, that was followed with more respect or greatnes. Vertue embracing with more ambition, and more willingly aspiring after a recompence, that is meerly and simply her owne, and which is rather glo­rious, then profitable. For, to say truth, other giftes have novse so worthy; masmuch, as they are imployed to all manner of occasions. With riches a man doeth reward the service of a groome, the diligence of a messenger, the hopping of a dancer, the tricks of a vaulter, the breath of a lawyer, and the basest offices a man may receive; yea, with the same paultry pelfe mony, vice is payed and sinne requited, as flattery, murther, treason, Maqu [...]relage, and what not? It is then no marvell, if vertue doth lesse willingly desire this kinde of common trash, mony, then that which is only proper and peculiar to h [...]rselfe, and is altogether noble and generous. Auguctus had therefore reason, to be much more niggardly and sparing of this last, then of the former, forasmuch has honour is a priviledge which drawes his principall essence from rarenesse: And so doth vertue it selfe.

We shall not see a man highly regarded, or extraordinarily commended, that is curiouslie carefull to have his children well nurtured, because it is a common action, how just and worthy praise soever it be: no more then one great tree, where the forrest is full of such. I doe not thinke that any Spartane Citizen did boastingly glorifie himselfe for his valor, be­cause it was a popular vertue in that Nation: And as little for his fidelitie, and contempt of riches. There is no recompence fals vnto vertue, how great soever it be, if it once have past into custome: And I wot not whether we might call it great, being common. Since then the rewardes of honor, have no other prize and estimation then that few enjoy it, there is no way to disannull them, but to make a largesse of them. Were there now more men found deserving the same then in former ages, yet should not the reputation of it be corrup­ted. And it may easilie happen that more deserve-it: For, there is no vertue, doeth so easilie spread it selfe as military valian [...]e. There is another, true, perfect, and Philosophical, wher­of I speake not (I vse this word according to our custome) farre greater and more full then this, which is a force and assurance of the soule, equally contemning all manner of contrarie accidents, vpright, vn [...]forme, and constant, wherof ours is but an easie and glimmering raie. Custome, institution, example and fashion, may effect what ever they list in the establish­ing of that I speak-of, and easily make it vulgare, as may plainely bee seene by the experi­ence our civill warts give-vs of-it, And whosoever could now joyne vs together, and ea­gerly flesh al our people to a common enterprise, we should make our ancient military name and chivalrous credit to flourish againe. It is most certaine that the recompence of our order did not in former times onely concerne prowis, and respect valour; it had a further aime. It was never the reward or payment of a valiant souldier; but of a famous Captaine. The skill to obey could not deserve so honorable an hire: for, cast we backe our eyes to antiquity, we shall perceive, that for the woorthy obtayning thereof, there was required more vniuersall warre like experinesse, and which might imbrace the greatest part, and most parts of a mi­litary [Page 212] man; Neque enim eadem militares & imperatoriae artes sunt; for the same artes and partes belong not to a generall and common Souldier; and who besides that, should also bee of a fit and accommodable condition for such a dignitie. But I say, that if more men should now adaies be found worthy of it, then have bin heretofore, yet should not our Princes be more liberall of it: and it had bin much better, not to bestow it vpon all them to whom it was due, then for ever to loose, (as of late we have done) the vse of so profitable an invention. No man of courage vouch [...]afeth to advantage himselfe of that which is common vnto many. And those which in our dayes, have least merited that honourable recompence, seeme, in all apparance, most to disdaine it, by that meanes to place themselves in the ranke of those to whom the wrong is offred by vnworthy bestowing and vilifying of that badge, which particularly was due vn­to them. Now by defacing and abolishing this to suppose, suddenly to be able to bring into cridite, and renue a semblable custome, is no convenient enterprise, in so licentious, so cor­rupted, and so declining an age, as is this wherein we now live. And it will come to passe that the last shall even from her birth incur the incommodities, which haue lately ruined and ouerthrowne the other. The rules of this new orders-dispensation had need to be other­wise wrested and constrained, for to giue it authority: and this tumultuous season is not capable of a short and ordered bridle. Besides, before a man is able to giue credit vnto it, it is requisite a man loose the memory of the first, and of the contempt whereinto it is fal­len. This place might admitte some discourse vpon the consideration of valour, and diffe­rence betweene this vertue and others: But Plutarch hauing often spoken of this matter, it were in vaine heere for mee to repeat what he sayes of it. This is worthy to be considered, that our nation giveth the chiefe preheminence of all vertue vnto valiancy, as the Etymolo­gy of the word sheweth, which commeth of valour, or worth: and that according to our recei­ued custome, when after the phrase of our court and nobility we speake of a worthy man, or of an honest man, we thereby inferre no other thing than a valiant man; after the vsuall Roman fashion. For, the generall denomination of vertue doth amongst them take her E­tymology, of force or might. The only proper and essential forme of our nobility in France, is military vocation. It is very likely, that the first vertue that ever appeared amongst men, and which to some hath given preheminence over others, hath bin this by which the strong­est and more couragious have become masters over the weakest, and purchased a particular rancke and reputation to themselues: Whereby this honour and dignity of speech is left vnto it: or else these nations being very war-like, haue giuen the price vnto that of vertues, which was the worthiest and more familiar vnto them. Even as our passion, and this heart­panting, and mind-vexing carefull diligence, and diligent carefulnesse, which we continual­ly apprehend about womens chastity, causeth; also that a good woman, an honest woman, a woman of honor and vertue, doth in effect and substance, signifie no other thing vnto vs, than a chaste wife or woman; as if to bind them to this duty, we did neglect all others, and gaue them free liberty to commit any other fault, to covenant with them, neuer to quit or forsake this one.

The eight Chapter.

MAdame, if strangenesse doe not save, or novelty shielde mee, which are wont to give things reputation, I shall never, with honestie, quit my selfe of this enterprise; yet is it so fantasticall, and beares a shew so different from common custome, that that may haply purchase-it free passage. It is a melancholy humor, and consequently a hatefull enemy to my naturall complexion, bredde by the anxietie, and produced by the anguish of carking care, whereinto some yeares since I cast my selfe, that first put this humorous conceipt of writing into my head. And finding my selfe afterward wholy vnprovided of subject, and voyde of other matter. I have presented my selfe vnto my selfe for a subject to write, and ar­gument [Page 213] to descant vpon. It is the onely booke in the world of this kinde, and of a wilde ex­travagant designe. Moreover, there is nothing in it worth [...]e the marking but this fantasti­calnesse. For, to so vaine a ground and base a subject, the worldes best workeman, could never have given a fashion deserving to be accompted-of. Now (woorthy Lady) sithence I must pourtray my selfe to the life, I should have forgotten a part of importance, if there­withall I had not represented the honour I have ever yeeleed to your deserts, which I have especially beene willing to declare in the forefront of this Chapter; For asmuch as amongst your other good parts, and commendable qualities, that of loving amity, which you have shewen to your children, holdeth one of the first ranckes. Whosoever shall vnderstand and know the age, wherein your late husband the Lord of Estissac left you a Widdow, the great and honorable matches haue been offered you (as worthy and as many as to any other Lady in France of your condition) the constant resolution, and resolute constancy, wherewith so many yeeres you have sustained, and even in spight, or a thwart so manifold thorny difficul­ties; the charge and conduct of their affaires, which have tossed, turmoyled and remooved you in all corners of France, and still hold you besieged; the happy and successefull forward­nesse you, which only through your wisdome or good fortune have given them, he will easily say with mee, that in our age we haue no patterne of motherly affection more exemplare; than yours. I praise God (Madam) it hath beene so well employed: For, the good hopes, which the yoong Lord of Estissac, your sonne giveth of himselfe, fore-shew an vndoubted assurance, that when he shall come to yeeres of discretion, you shall reape the obedience of a noble, and find the acknowledgement of a good childe. But because, by reason of his child­hood, he could not take notice of the exceeding kindnesse and many-fold offices he hath received from you, my meaning is, that if ever these my compositions shall happly one day come into his hands (when peradventure I shall neither have mouth nor speach to declare it vnto him) he receive this testimonie in all veritie from me; which shall also more lively be testified vnto him by the good effects, (whereof, if so it please God, he shall have a sensible feeling) that there is no Gentleman in France, more endebted to his mother, then he; and that hereafter he cannot yeeld a more certaine proofe of his goodnesse, and testimonie of his vertue, then in acknowledging and confessing you for such. If there be any truely-naturall law, that is to say, any instinct, vniversally and perpetually imprinted, both in beasts and vs, (which is not without controversie) I may, according to mine opinion, say, that next to the care, which each living creature hath to his preservation, and to flie what doth hurt him; the affection which the engenderer beareth his off-spring, holds the second place in this ranke. And forasmuch as nature seemeth to have recommended the same vnto-vs, ayming to ex­tend, encrease, and advance, the successive parts or parcels of this hir frame. It is no woon­der if back▪againe it is not so great from children vnto fathers. This other Aristotelian consideration remembred: That hee who doth benefit another, loveth him better than hee is beloved of him againe: And hee to whom a debt is owing, loveth better, than hee that ow­eth: And every workeman loveth his worke better, than hee should bee beloved of it a­gaine, if it had sense or feeling. Forasmuch as we love to be; and being consisteth in mo­ving and action. Therefore is every man, in some sort or other in his owne workmanship. Whosoever doth a good deed, exerciseth a faire and honest action: Whosoever receiveth, exerci­seth onely a profitable action. And profite is nothing so much to be esteemed or loved as ho­nestie. Honestie is firme and permanent, affording him that did it, a constant gratification. Profite is verie slipperie, and easilie lost, nor is the memorie of it so sweet, or so fresh. Such things are dearest vnto vs, that have cost vs most: And to give, is of more cost then to take. Since it hath pleased God to endow-vs with some capacitie of discourse, that as beasts we should not servily be subjected to common lawes, but rather with judgement and voluntarie libertie applie our selves vnto them; we ought somewhat to yeeld vnto the simple auctho­ritie of Nature: but not suffer hir tyrannically to carrie-vs away: only reason ought to have the conduct of our inclinations. As for me, my taste is strangely distasted to it's propensi­ons, which in vs are produced without the ordinance and direction of our judgement. As vpon this subject I speak-of, I cannot receive this passion, wherewith some embrace chil­dren scarsly borne, having neither motion in the soule, nor forme well to be distinguished in the bodie, whereby they might make themselves lovely or amiable. And I could never well endure to have them brought vp or nursed neere about me. A true and wel ordred affection, [Page 114] ought to be borne and augmented, with the knowledge they give vs of themselves; and then, if they deserve-it (naturall inclination marching hand in hand with reason) to cherish and make much of them, with a perfect fatherly love and loving friendship, and conformably to judge of them if they be otherwise, alwaies yeelding our selves vnto reason, notwithstanding naturll power. For the most part; it goeth cleane contrary, and commonly feele our selves more mooved with the sports, idlenesse, wantonnesse, and infant-trifles of our children, than afterward we doe with all their actions, when they bee men: As if we had loved them for our pastimes, as we doe apes, monkies, or perokitoes, and not as men. And some that liberally furnish them with sporting bables while they be children, will miserably pinch it in the least expence for necessaries when they grow men. Nay, it seemeth that the jelousie we have to see them appeare into, and injoy the world, when we are ready to leave them, makes vs more sparing and close-handed toward them. It vexeth and grieveth vs when we see them follow­ing vs at our heeles, supposing they solicite vs to be gone hence: And if we were to feare that since the order of things beareth, that they cannot indeede, neither be, nor live, but by our being and life, we should not meddle to be fathers. As for mee, I deeme it a kind of cruelty and injustice, not to receive them into the share and society of our goods, and to admit them as Partners in the vnderstanding of our domesticall affaires (if they be once capable of it) and not to cut off and shut- vp our commodities to provide for theirs, since we have engen­dred them to that purpose. It is meere injustice to see an old, crazed, sinnow-shronken, and nigh dead father sitting alone in a Chimny-corner, to enjoy so many goods as would suffice for the preferment and entertainment of many children, and in the meane while, for want of meanes, to suffer them to loose their best daies and yeares, without thrusting them into pub­like service and knowledge of men; whereby they are often cast into dispaire, to seeke, by some way how vnlawfull soever to provide for their necessaries. And in my daies, I have seene divers yong-men, of good, houses so given to stealing and filching, that no correction could divert them from it. I know one very well alied, to whom, at the instance of a brother of his (a most honest, gallant, and vertuous Gentleman) I spake to that purpose, who bold­ly answered and confessed vnto me, that onely by the rigor and covetise of his father he had beene forced and driuen to fall into such lewdnesse and wickednesse. And even at that time he came from stealing certaine jewels from a Lady, in whose bed-chamber he fortuned to come with certaine other Gentlemen when she was rising, and had almost beene taken. He made me remember a tale I had heard of an other Gentleman, from his youth so fashioned and inclined to this goodly trade of pilfering, that comming afterward to be heire and Lord of his owne goods, resolved to giue over that manner of life, could notwithstanding (if he chanced to come neere a shop, where he saw any thing he stood in neede of) not chuse but steale the same, though afterward he would ever send mony and pay for it. And I have seene diverse so inured to that vice, that amongst their companions, they would ordinarily steale such things, as they would restore againe. I am a Gascoine, and there is no vice wherein I have lesse skill: I hate it somewhat more by complexion, then I accuse it by discourse. I doe not so much as desire another mans goods.

And although my Country-men be indeed somewhat more taxed with this fault, then o­ther Provinces of France, yet have we seene of late daies, and that sundry times men well borne and of good parentaeg in other parts of France in the hands of justice, and lawfully convicted of many most horrible robberies. I am of opinion that in regard of these de­bauches and lewd actions, fathers may, in some sort, be blamed, and that it is onely long of them. And if any shall answer mee, as did once a Gentleman of good worth and vnderstan­ding, that he thriftily endevored to hoard vp riches, to no other purpose, nor to have any vse and commodity of them, then to be honoured, respected and suingly sought vnto by his friends and kinsfolkes, and that age having bereaved him of all other forces, it was the onely remedy he had left to maintaine himselfe in authority with his houshold, and keepe him from falling into contempt and disdaine of all the world. (And truely according to Ari­stotle, not onely old-age, but each imbecility, is the promoter, and motive of couetousnesse. That is something, but it is a remedie for an evill, whereof the birth should have beene hin­dered, and breeding a voyded. That father may truely be said miserable, that holdeth the affection of his children tied vnto him by no other meanes, then by the neede they have of his helpe, or want of his assistance, if that may be termed affection: A man should yeeld him­selfe [Page 215] respectable by vertue and sufficiency, and amiable by his goodnesse, and gentlenesse of maners. The very cinders of so rich a matter, have their value: so have the bones and reliques of ho­nourable men, whom we hold in respect and reverence. No age can be so crazed and droop­ing in a man that hath lived honourably, but must needes prove venerable, and especially vnto his children, whose mindes ought so to be directed by the parents, that reason and wise­dome, not necessity and neede, nor rudenesse and compulsion, may make them know and performe their duty.

I vtterly condemne all maner of violence in the education of a yong spirit, brought vp to honour and liberty. There is a kinde of slavishnesse in churlish-rigor, and servility in com­pulsion; and I hold, that that which can not be compaessed by reason, wisedome and discretion, can never be attained by [...]orce and constraint. So was I brought vp: they tell mee, that in all my youth, I never felt rod but twice, and that very lightly. And what education I have had my selfe, the same have I given my children. But such is my ill hap, that they die all very yong: yet hath Leonora my onely daughter escaped this misfortune, and attained to the age of six yeares, and somewhat more: for the conduct of whose youth, and punishment of hir chil­disn faults (the indulgence of hir mother applying it selfe very mildely vnto it) was never other meanes vsed but gentle words. And were my desire frustrate, there are diverse other causes to take hold-of, without reproving my discipline, which I know to be just and naturall. I would also have beene much more religious in that towards male-children, not borne to serve as women, and of a freer condition. I should have loved to have stored their minde with ingenuity and liberty. I have seene no other effects in rods, but to make childrens mindes more remis [...]e, or more maliciously head-strong. Desire we to be loved of our chil­dren? Will we remove all occasions from them to wish our death? (although no occasion of so horrible and vnnaturall wishes, can either be just or excusable) nullum scelus rationem ha­bet, no ill deede hath a good reason.

Let vs reasonably accommodate their life, with such things as are in our power. And ther­fore should not we marry so yoong, that our age doe in a maner confound it selfe with theirs. For, this inconvenience doth vnavoidably cast vs into many difficulties, and encombrances. This I speake, chiefly vnto Nobility, which is of an idle disposition, or lo [...]tering condition, and which (as we say) liveth onely by hir lands or rents: for else, where life standeth vpon gaine; plurality and company of children is an easefull furtherance of husbandry. They are as many new implements to thrive, and instruments to grow rich. I was married at thirty yeeres of age, and commend the opinion of thirty-five, which is said to be Aristotles. Plato would have no man married before thirty, and hath good reason to scoffe at them that will defer it till after fifty-five, and then marry; and condemneth their breed as vnworthy of life and sustenance. Thales appointed the best limites, who by his mother, being instantly vrged to marry whilest he was yong, answered that it was not yet time; and when he came to be old he said it was no more time. A man must refuse opportunity to every importunate action. The ancient Gaules deemed it a thamefull reproach, to have the acquaintance of a woman before the age of twenty yeares, and did especially recommend vnto men that sought to be trained vp in warres, the carefull preseruation of their maiden-head, vntill they were of good yeeres, forsomuch as by loosing it in youth, courages are thereby much weakened and great­ly empaired, and by copulation with women, diverted from all vertuous action.

Muleasses King of Thunes, he whom the Emperour Charles the fifth restored vnto his [Page 216] owne state againe, was wont to vpbraid his fathers memorie, for so dissolutely-frequenting of women, terming him a sloven, effeminate, and a lustfull engenderer of children. The Greeke storie doth note Iecus the Tarentine, Chryso, Astylus, Diopomus and others, who to keepe their bodies tough and strong for the service of the Olympicke courses, wrestlings and such bodily exercises, they did, as long as they were possessed with that care, heedefully ab­staine from all venerian actes, and thouching of women. In a certaine country of the Spa­nish Indies, no man was suffered to take a wife, before he were fortie yeares olde, and wo­men might marry at tenne yeares of age. There is no reason, neither is it convenient, that a Gentleman of five and thirtie yeares, should give place to his sonne, that is but twenty: For then is the father as seemely, and may aswell appeare, and set himselfe forward, in all man­ner of voyages of warres, aswell by land as sea, and doe his Prince as good service, in court, or else where, as his sonne: He hath neede of all his parts, and ought truly to impart them, but so, that he forget not himselfe for others: And to such may justly that answere serve, which fathers have commonly in their mouthes: I will not put off my clothes before I be readie to goe to bed. But a father over-burthend with yeares, and crazed through sickenesse, and by reason of weakenesse and want of health, barred from the common societie of men, doth both wrong himselfe, injure his, idely and to no vse to hoorde vp, and keepe close a great heape of riches, and deale of pelfe. He is in state good enough, if he be wise to have a desire to put off his clothes to goe to bed. I will not say to his spirt, but to a good warme night gowne, As for other pompe and trash whereof hee hath no longer vse or neede; hee ought willingly to distribute and bestow them amongst those, to whom by naturall decree they ought to belong. It is reason he should have the vse, and bequeath the fruition of them, since nature doth also deprive him of them, otherwise without doubt there is both envy and malice stirring. The worthiest action, that ever the Emperour Charles the fifth performed was this, in imitation of some ancients of his quality, that he had the discretion to know, that reason commanded vs, to strip or shift our selves when our cloathes trouble and are too hea­vie for vs, and that it is high time to goe to bed, when our legges faile vs. He resigned his meanes, his greatnesse and Kingdome to his Sonne, at what time he found his former vndan­ted resolution to decay, and force to conduct his aslaires, to droope in himselfe, together with the glory he had thereby acquired.

This fault, for a man not to be able to know himselfe betimes, and not to feele the im­puissance and extreame alteration, that age doth naturally bring, both to the body and the minde (which in mine opinion is equall, if the minde have but one halfe) hath lost the repu­tation of the most part of the greatest men in the world. I have in my daies both seene and fam [...]liarly knowen some men of great authority, whom a man might easily descerne, to be strangely fallen from that ancient sufficiency, which I know by the reputation they had thereby attained▪ vnto in their best yeares. I could willingly for their honors sake have wis [...]t them at home about their owne businesse, discharged from all negotiations of the common­wealth and employments of war, that were no longer fit for them. I have sometimes been fa­miliar in a Gentlemans house, who was both an old man and a widdower, yet lusty of his age. This man had many daughters [...]ariageable, and a sonne growne to mans state, and rea­die to appeare in the world, a thing that drew▪ on, and was the cause of great charges, and many visitations, wherein he tooke but little pleasure, not onely for the continuall care hee had to save, but more by reason of his age, hee had betaken him-selfe to a manner of life farre different from ours. I chanced one day to tell him somewhat boldly (as my custome is) that it would better beseeme him to give vs place, and resigne his chiefe house to his son (for he had no other mannor-house conveniently well furnished) and quietly retire him­selfe to some farme of his, where no man might trouble him, or disturbe his rest, since he could not otherwise avoide our importunitie, seeing the condition of his children; who afterward followed my counsell, and found great ease by it. It is not to be said, that they have any thing given them by such a way of obligation, which a man may not recall againe: I, that am readie to play such a part, would give over vnto them the full possession of my [Page 217] house, and enjoying of my goods, but with such libertie and limited condition, as if they should give me occasion, I might repent my selfe of my gift, and revoke my deede. I would leave the vse and fruition of all vnto them, the rather because it were no longer fit for me to weald the same. And touching the disposing of all matters in grosse, I would reserve what I pleased vnto my selfe. Having ever judged, that it must be a great contentment to an aged father, himselfe to direct his children in the government of his houshold-affaires, and to be able whilst himselfe liveth, to checke and controule the demeanors: storing them with in­struction and advised counsel according to the experience he hath had of them, and himself to addresse the ancient honour and order of his house in the handes of his successours, and that way warrant himselfe of the hopes hee may conceive of their future conduct and after successe. And to this effect, I would not shunne their company. I would not be far from them, but as much as the condition of my age would permit, enjoy and be a partner of their sports, mirths, and feasts. If I did not continually live amongst them (as I could not wel with­out offending their meetings and hindering their recreation, by reason of the peevish fro­wardnesse of my age, and the trouble of my infirmities, and also without forcing their rules, and resisting the forme of life, I should then follow) I would at least live neere them, in some corner of my house, not the best and fairest in shew, but the most easefull and commodious. And not as some yeeres since, I saw a Deane of S. Hillarie of Poictiers, reduced by reason and the incommoditie of his melancholy to such a continuall solitarinesse, that when I en­tered into his chamber he had never remooved one step out of it in two and twenty yeares before: yet had all his faculties free and easie, onely a rheume excepted that fell into his sto­make. Scarse once a weeke would he suffer any body to come and see him. Hee would ever be shut vp in his chamber all alone, where no man should come, except a boy, who once a day brought him meate, and who might not tarrie there, but as soone as he was in, must goe out againe. All his exercise was sometimes to walke vp and downe his chamber, and now and then reade on some booke (for he had some vnderstanding of letters) but obsti­nately resolved to live and die in that course, as he did shortly after. I would endevour by a kinde of civill demeanour and milde conversation, to breede and settle in my children a true­harty-loving friendship, and vnfained good will towards me. A thing easily obtained a­mongst well-borne mindes: For, if they proove, or be such surly-furious beastes, or given to churlish disobedience, as our age bringeth forth thousands, they must as beastes be hated, as churls neglected, and as degenerate avoided. I hate this custome, to forbid children to call their fathers father, and to teach them another strange name, as of more reverence: As if na­ture had not sufficiently provided for our authoritie. We call God-almightie by the name of father, and disdaine our children should call vs so. I have reformed this fault in mine owne housholde. It is also follie and injustice to deprive children, especially being of com­petent age, of their fathers familiaritie, and ever to snew them a surly, austere, grim, and disdainefull countenance, hoping thereby to keepe them in awefull feare and duteous obe­dience. For, it is a very vnprofitable proceeding, and which maketh fathers yrkesome vnto children; and which is worse, ridiculous. They have youth and strength in their hands, and consequently, the breath and favour of the worlde; and doe with mockerie and contempt receive these churlish fierce, and tyrannicall countenaunces, from a man that hath no lusty bloud left him, neither in his heart, nor in his veines; meere bugge-beares, and scar-crowes, to scare birdes with all. If it lay in my power to make my selfe feared, I had rather make my selfe beloved. There are so many sortes of defects in age, and so much impuissance: It is so subject to contempt, that the best purchase it can make, is the good will, love and affection of hers. Commandement and feare are no longer her weapons. I have knowen one whose youth had bin very imperious and rough, but when he came to mans age, although hee live in as good plight and health as may be, yet he chaseth, he scoldeth, he brawleth, he fighteth, he sweareth, and biteth, as the most boistrous and tempestuous master of France, he frets and consumes himselfe with ca [...]ke and care and vigilancy (all which is but a juglin & ground for his familier to play vpon, and cozen him the more) as for his goods, his garners, his cellers, his coffers, yea his purse, whilest himselfe keepes the keyes of them, close in his bosome and vnder his boulster, as charily as he doth his e [...]es, other enjoy and commaund the better part of them; whilest he pleaseth and fla [...]tereth himselfe, with the [...]ggardly sparing of his table, all goeth to wracke, and is lavishly wasted in diverse corners of his house, in play, in riotous [Page 218] spending, and in soothingly entertaining the accompts or tales of his vaine chafing, fore­sight and providing. Every man watcheth and keepeth sentinell against him, if any silly or needlesse servant doe by fortune apply himselfe vnto it, he is presently made to suspect him: A quality on which age doth immediately bite of itselfe. How many times hath he vaunted and applauding himselfe told me of the strict orders of his house, of his good husbandry, of the awe he kept his houshold in, and of the exact obedience, and regardfull reverence he re­ceived of all his family, and how cleare-sighted he was in his owne businesse:

I know no man that could produce more parts, both naturall and artificiall, fit to preserve his maisterie, and to maintaine his absolutenesse, than he doth; yet is hee cleane falne from them like a childe. Therefore have I made choice of him, amongst many such conditions that I know, as most exemplare. It were a matter beseeming a scholasticall question, whe­ther it be better so, or otherwise. In his presence all things give place vnto him. This vaine course is ever left vnto his authority, that he is never gaine-said. He is had in awe, he is fea­red, he is beleeved, he is respected his belly-full. Doth he discharge any boy or servant? he presently trusseth vp his packe, then is he gone; but whether? onely out of his sight, not out of his house. The steps of age are follow, the senses so troubled, the minde so distra­cted, that he shall live and doe his office, a whole yeere in one same house, and never be per­ceived. And when fit time or occasion serveth, Letters are produced from farre places, humbly suing, and pittifully complayning, with promises to doe better, and to amend, by which he is brought into favour and office againe. Doth the master make any bargaine, or dispatch that pleaseth not? it is immediately smothered and suppressed, soone after forging causes, and devising colourable excuses, to excuse the want of execution or answer. No for­raine Letters being first presented vnto him, he seeth but such as are fit for his knowledge. If peradventure they come vnto his hands, as he that trusteth some one of his men to reade them vnto him, he will presently devise what he thinketh good, whereby they often invent, that such a one seemeth to aske him forgivenesse, that wrongeth him by his Letter. To con­clude, he never lookes into his owne businesse, but by a disposed, designed and as much as may be pleasing image, so contrived by such as are about him, because they will not stirre vp his choler, moove his impatience, and exasperate his frowardnesse. I have seene vnder different formes, many long and constant, and of like effect oeconomies. It is ever proper vnto women, to be read [...]ly bent to contradict and crosse their husbands. They will with might and maine hand-over head, take hold of any colour to thwart and withstand them: the first excuse they meete with, serves them as a plenary justification. I have seene some, that would in grosse steale from their husbands, to the end (as they tolde their Confessors) they might give the greater almes. Trust you to such religious dispensations. They thinke no liberty to have, or managing to possesse sufficient authority, if it come from their hus­bands consent: They must necessarily vsurpe it, either by wily craft or maine force, and ever injuriously, thereby to give it more grace and authority. As in my Discourse, when it is a­gainst a poore old man, and for children, then take they hold of this Title, and therewith gloriously serve their turne and passion, and as in a common servitude, easily vsurpe and mo­nopolize against his government and domination. If they be men-children, tall, of good spirit and forward, then they presently suborne, either by threats, force or favour, both Ste­ward, Bail [...]ffe, Clarke, Receiver, and all the Fathers Officers, and Servants. Such as have neither wife nor children, doe more hardly fall into this mischiefe: but yet more cruelly and vnworthily. Old Cato was wont to say, So many servants, so many enemies. Note whether ac­cording to the distance, that was betweene the purity of his age, and the corruption of our times, he did not fore-warne vs, that Wives, Children, and Servants are to vs so many enemies. Well fittes it decrepitude to store vs with the sweet benefite of ignorance and vnperceiving facility wherewith we are deceived.

If we did yeeld vnto it, what would become of vs? Doe we not see that even then, if we have any suites in law or matters to be decided before judges, both Lawyers and Iudges, will commonly take part with, and favour our childrens causes against vs, as men interessed in the same? And if I chance not to spie, or plainely perceive how I am cheated, cozoned and [Page 219] beguiled. I must of necessitie discover in the end, how I am subject and may be cheated, be­guiled, and cozoned. And shall the tongue of man ever bee able to expresse the vnvaluable worth of a frend, in comparison of these civill bondes? The lively image and Idea whereof; I perceive to be amongst beasts so vnspotted. Oh with what religion doe I respect and ob­serve the same! If others deceive me, yet do I not deceive my selfe, to esteeme my selfe capa­ble, and of power to looke vnto my selfe, nor to trouble my braines to yeeld my selfe vnto it. I doe beware and keepe my selfe from such treasons, and cunny-catching in mine owne bosome, not by an vnquiet, and tumultuary curiosity, but rather by a diversion and resolu­tion. When I heare the state of any one reported or discoursed of, I ammuse not my selfe on him, but presently cast mine eyes on my selfe, and all my wits together, to see in what state I am, and how it goeth with me. Whatsoever concerneth him, the same hath relation to me. His fortunes forewarne me, and summon vp my spirites that way. There is no day nor houre, but we speake that of others, we might properly speake of our selves, could we as well enfold, as we can vnfould our consideration. And many Authours doe in this maner wound the protection of their cause, by over-rasnly running against that, which they take hold-of, thirling such darts at their enemies, that might with much more advantage be cast at them. The Lord of Mon­luc, late one of the Lord Marshals of France, having lost his sonne, who died in the Iland of Madera, a worthy, forward and gallant yoong gentleman, and truely of good hope; amongst other his griefes and regrets, did greatly moove me to condole, the infinite displeasure and heartes-sorrow that he felt, in asmuch as he had never communicated and opened himselfe vnto him: for, with his austere humour and continuall endevoring to hold a grimme-stern­fatherly gravity over him, he had lost the meanes, perfectly to finde and throughly to know his sonne, and so to manifest vnto him, the extreame affection he bare him, and the worthy judgement he made of his vertue. Alas (was he wont to say) the poore lad, saw never any thing in me, but a severe-surly-countenance, full of disdaine, and happily was possessed with this conceit, that I could neither love nor esteeme him according to his merits. Ay-me, to whom did I reserve, to discover that singular and loving affection, which in my soule I bare vnto him? Was it not he that should have had all the pleasure and acknowledgement there­of? I have forced and tormented my selfe to maintaine this vaine maske, and have vtterly lost the pleasure of his conversation, and therwithal his good will, which surely was but faint­ly cold towards me, forsomuch as he never received but rude entertainement of mee, and ne­ver felt but a tyrannicall proceeding in me towards him. I am of opinion, his complaint was reasonable and well grounded. For, as I know by certaine experience, there is no comfort so sweete in the losse of friends, as that our owne knowledge or conscience tels vs, we never o­mitted to tell them every thing, and expostulate all matters vnto them, and to have had a perfect and free communication with them. Tell me my good friend, am I the better or the worse by having a taste of it? Surely I am much the better. His griefe doth both comfort and honour mee. Is it not a religious and pleasing office of my life, for ever to make the obse­quies thereof? Can there be any pleasure worth this privation? I doe vnfold and open my selfe as much as I can to mine owne people, and willigly declare the state of my will and judg­ment toward them, as commonly I doe towards all men: I make haste to produce and pre­sent my selfe, for I would have no man mistake me, in what part soever. Amongst other particular customes, which our ancient Gaules had, (as Caesar affirmeth) this was one, that children never came before their fathers, nor were in any publicke assembly seene in their company, but when they began to beare armes; as if they would infer, that then was the time, fathers should admit them to their acquaintance and familiarity. I have also observed another kinde of indiscretion in some fathers of our times, who during their owne life, would never be induced to acquaint or impart vnto their children, that share or portion, which by the Law of Nature, they were to have in their fortunes: Nay, some there are, who after their death bequeath and commit the same aucthority, over them and their goods, vnto their wives, with full power and law to dispose of them at their pleasure. And my selfe have knowen a Gentleman, a chiefe officer of our crowne, that by right and hope of succession (had he lived vnto it) was to inherite above fifty thousand crownes a yeere good land, who at the age of more then fifty yeeres fell into such necessity and want, and was run so farre in debt, that he had nothing left him, and as it is supposed died for very neede; whilest his mo­ther in hir extreame decrepitude, enjoyed all his lands and possessed all his goods, by vertue [Page 220] of his fathers will and testament, who had lived very neere foure-score yeares. A thing (in my conceite) no way to be commended, but rather blamed. Therefore doe I thinke, that a man but little advantaged or bettered in estate, who is able to liue of himselfe, and is out of debt, especially if he have children, and goeth about to marry a wife, that must have a great joynter out of his lands, assuredly there is no other debt, that brings more ruine vnto hou­ses then that. My predecessours have commonly followed this counsell, and so have I, and all have found good by it. But those that disswade vs from marrying of riche wives, lest they might proove over disdainefull and peevish, or lesse tractable and loving, are also deceived to make vs neglect and for-goe a reall commoditie, for so frivolous a conjecture. To an vn­reasonable women, it is all one cost to hir, whether they passe vnder one reason, or vnder a­nother. They love to be where they are most wronged. Injustice doeth allure them; as the ho­nour of their vertuous actions enticeth the good. And by how much richer they are, so much more milde and gentle are they: as more willingly and gloriously chast, by how much fair­er they are. Some colour of reason there is, men should leave the administration of their goods and affaires vnto mothers, whilst their children are not of competent age, or fit ac­cording to the lawes to manage the charge of them: And il hath their father brought them vp, if he cannot hope, these comming to yeares of discretion, they shal have no more wit, rea­son, and sufficiencie, then his wife, considering the weaknesse of their sexe. Yet truly were it as much against nature, so to order things, that mothers must wholy depend of their chil­drens descretion. They ought largely and competently to be provided, wherewith to main­taine their estate, according to the quality of their house and age: because neede and want is much more vnseemely and hard to be indured in women, than in men: And children rather then mothers ought to be charged therewith. In generall, my opinion is, that the best distributi­on of goods, is when we die, to distribute them according to the custome of the Country. The Lawes have better thought vpon them then we: And better it is to let them erre in their election, then for vs rashly to hazard to faile in ours. They are not properly our owne, since without vs, and by a civill prescription, they are appointed to certaine successours. And al­beit we have some further liberty, I thinke it should be a great and most apparant cause to induce vs to take from one, and barre him from that, which Fortune hath allotted him, and the common Lawes and Iustice hath called him vnto: And that against reason wee a­buse this liberty, by suting the same vnto our priuate humours and frivolous fantasies. My fortune hath beene good, inasmuch as yet it never presented mee with any occasions, that might tempt or divert my affections from the common and lawfull ordinance. I see some, towards whom it is but labour lost, carefully to endevour to doe any good offices. A word il taken defaceth the merite of tenne yeeres. Happy he, that at this last passage is ready to sooth and applaud their will. The next action transporteth him; not the best and most frequent offices, but the freshest and present worke the deede. They are people that play with their wils and testaments, as with apples and rods, to gratifie or chastize every action of those who pretend any interest therevnto. It is a matter of over-long pursute, and of exceeding con­sequence, at every instance to be thus dilated, and wherein the wiser sort establish themselves once for all, chiefely respecting reason, and publike observance. We somewhat over-much take these masculine substitutions to hart, and propose a ridiculous eternity vnto our names. We also over-weight such vaine future conjectures, which infant-spirits give-vs. It might peradventure have beene deemed injustice, to displace me from out my rancke, because I was the dullest, the slowest, the vnwillingest, and most leaden-pated to learne my lesson o a­ny good, that ever was, not onely of all my brethren, but of all the children in my Countrie; were the lesson concerning any exercise of the minde or body. It is follie to trie anie extra­ordinarie conclusions vpon the trust of their divinations, wherein we are so often deceived. If this rule may be contradicted, and the destinies corrected, in the choise they have made of our heires, with so much more apparance, may it be done in consideration of some re­markable and enormous corporall deformitie; a constant and incorrigible vice; and accor­ding to vs great esteemers of beautie; a matter of important prejudice. The pleasant dialogue of Plato the law-giver, with his citizens, will much honor this passage. Why then (say they) perceiving their ende to approch, shall we not dispose of that which is our owne, to whom and according as we please? Oh Gods what cruelty is this? That it shall not be lawfull for vs, to give or bequeath more or lesse according to our fantasies, to such as have [Page 221] served vs, and taken paines with vs in our sickenesses, in our age, and in our busines? To whom the Law-giver answereth in this manner; my frends (saith he) who doubtles shall shortly die it is a hard matter for you, both to know your selves, and what is yours, according to the Delphike in scription: As for me, who am the maker of your lawes, I am of opinion that neither your selves are your owne, nor that which you enjoy. And both you and your goods, past and to come, belong to your familie; and moreover both your families and your goods are the common wealths: Wherfore, least any flatterer, either in your age, or in time of sickenes, or any other passion, should vnadvisedly induce you to make any vnlawfull con­vayance or vnjust will and testament, I will looke to you and keepe you from-it. But ha­ving an especiall respect both to the vniversall interest of your Citie, and particular state of your houses, I will establish lawes, and by reason make you perceive and confesse, that a par­ticular commoditie ought to yeelde to a publike benefit. Followe that course meerely, whereto humaine necessitie doth call you. To me it belongeth, who have no more regarde to one thing, then to another, and who as much as I can, take care for the general, to have a regard­full respect of that which you leave behind you. But to returne to my former discourse, me thinkes, we seldome see that woman borne, to whom the superioritie or majestie over men is due, except the motherly and naturall; vnles it be for the chastisement of such, as by some fond-febricitant humor have voluntarily submitted themselves vnto them: But that doth nothing concerne old women, of whom we speake here. It is the apparance of this consi­deration, hath made vs to frame, and willingly to establish this law (never seene else where) that barreth women from the succession of this crowne, and there are few principalities in the world, where it is not aleaged, aswel as here, by a likely and apparant reason, which autho­riseth the same. But fortune hath given more credit vnto-it in some places, then in other some. It is dangerous to leave the dispensation of our succession vnto their judgement, ac­cording to the choyse they shall make of their children, which is most commonly vnjust and fantasticall. For, the same vnrulie appetite, and distasted relish, or strange longings, which they have when they are great with child, the same have they a [...] al times in their minds. They are commonly seene to affect the weakest, the simplest and most abject, or such (if they have any) that had more neede to sucke. For, wanting reasonable discourse to chuse, and embrace what they ought, they rather suffer themselves to be directed, where natures impressions are most single, as other creatures, which take no longer knowledge of their yong-ones, then they are sucking. Moreover, experience doth manifestly snew vnto vs, that the same naturall af­fection, to which we ascribe so much authoritie, hath but a weake foundation. For a very small gaine, we daily take mothers owne children from them and induce them to take charge of ours; Doe we not often procure them to bequeath their children to some fond, filthie, sluttish, and vnhealthie nurce, to whom we would be very loth to commit ours, or to some brutish Goate, not onely forbidding them to nurce and feede their owne children (what danger soever may betide them) but also to have any care of them, to the end they may the more diligently follow, and carefully attend the service of ours? Whereby wee soone see through custome a certaine kinde of bastard-affection to be engendred in them, more ve­hement then the naturall, and to be much more tender and carefull for the well fare and pre­servation of other mens children, then for their owne. And the reason why I have made mention of Goates, is, because it is an ordinarie thing round about me where I dwell, to see the countrie women, when they have not milke enough to feed their infants with their owne breasts, to call for Goates to helpe them. And my selfe have now two lacke is wayting vp­on me, who except it were eight daies never suck't other milke then Goates; They are pre­sently to come at call, and give yong infants sucke, and become so well acquainted with their voice, that when they heare them crie; they runne forthwith vnto them. And if by chance they have any other child put to their teates, then their nurseling, they refuse and reject him, and so doth the childe a strange Goate. My selfe saw that one not long since, from whom the father tooke a Goate, which he had sucked two or three daies, because he had but borrowed it of one his neighbours, who could never be induced to sucke any o­ther, whereby he shortly died; and as I verely thinke, of meere hunger. Beasts as well as we doe soone alter, and easily bastardize their naturall affection. I beleeve, that in that, which Hero dotus reporteth of a certaine province of Libia, there often followeth great error and mista­king. He saith, that men doe indifferently vse, and as it were in common frequent women; [Page 222] And that the childe as soone as he is able to goe, comming to any solemne meetings and great assemblies, led by a naturall instinct findeth out his owne father: where being turned loose in the middest of the multitude, looke what man the childe doth first addresse his steps vnto, and then goe to him, the same is ever afterward reputed to be his right father. Now if we shal duely consider this simple occasion of loving our children, because we have begotten them, for which we call them our other selves. It seemes there is another production com­ming from vs, and which is of no lesse recommendation and consequence. For what we en­gender by the minde, the fruites of our courage, sufficiencie, or spirite, are brought forth by a far more noble part, then the corporall, and are more, our owne. We are both father and mother together in this generation: such fruites cost vs much dearer, and bring vs more ho­nour, and chiefly if they have any good or rare thing in them. For, the value of our other children, is much more theire, then ours. The share we have in them is but little; but of these all the beautie, all the grace, and all the worth is ours. And therefore doe they represent, and resemble vs much more lively then others. Plate addeth moreover, that these are immortall issues, and immortalize their fathers, yea and deifie them, as Licurgus, Solen, and Minos. All histories being full of examples of this mutuall friendship of fathers toward their children, I have not thought it amisse to set downe some choise one of this kinde. Heliodorus that good Bishop of Tricea, loved rather to loose the dignity, profit and devotion of so venera­ble a Prelateship, then to for-goe his daughter, a yong woman to this day commended for hir beautie, but happily somewhat more curiously and wantonly pranked-vp then besee­med the daughter of a churchman and a Bishop, and of over-amorous behavior. There was one Labienus in Rome, a man of great worth and authority, and an ongst other commenda­ble qualities, most excellent in all maner of learning, who (as I think) was the sonne of that great Labienus, cheife of all the captaines that followed and were vnder Caesar in the warres againe the Gaules, and who afterward taking great Pompeys part, behaved himselfe so vali­antly and so constantly, that he never forsooke him vntill Caesar defeated him in Spaine. This Labienus of whom I spake, had many that envied his vertues; But aboue all (as it is likely) courtiers, and such as in his time were favored of the Emperors, who hated his frank­nes, his fatherly humors, and distaste he bare still against tyrannie, wherewith it may be sup­posed he had stuffed his bookes and compositions. His adversaries vehemently pursued him before the Magistrate of Rome, and prevailed so farre, that many of his works which he had published were condemned to be burned. He was the first on whom this new example of punishment was put in practise, which after continued long in Rome, and was execu­ted on divers others, to punish learning, studies, and writings with death and consuming fire. There were neither meanes enough, or matter sufficient of crueltie, vnlesse we had en­termingled amongst them things, which nature hath exempted from all sense and suffe­rance, as reputation, and the inventions of our minde: and except we communicated corpo­rall mischiefes vnto disciplines and monuments of the Muses. Which losse Labienus could not endure, nor brooke to survive those his deare, and highly-esteemed issues: And there­fore caused himselfe to be carried, and shut vp alive within his auncestors monument, where, with a dreadlesse resolution, he at once provided, both to kill himselfe and be buried toge­ther. It is hard to shew any more vehement fatherly affection, than that. Cassius Severus, a most eloquent man, and his familiar friend, seeing his Bookes burnt, exclamed, that by the same sentence hee should therewithall be condemned to be burned alive, for hee still bare and kept in minde, what they contained in them. A like accident happened to Geruntius Cord [...]s, who was accused to have commended Brutus and Cassius in his Bookes. That base, servile, and corrupted Senate, and worthie of a farre worse maister then Tiberius, adjudged his writings to be consumed by fire And he was pleased to accompany them in their death; for, he pined away by abstaining from all manner of meat. That notable man Lucane, be­ing adjudged by that lewd varlet Nero to death; at the latter end of his life, when al his bloud was well nigh spent from out the veines of his arme, which by his Phisitian he had caused to be opened, to hasten his death, and that a chilling cold began to seize the vttermost parts of his limbes, and approch his vitale spirits, the last thing he had in memory, was some of his owne verses, written in his booke of the Pharsalian warres, which with a distinct voice hee repeated, and so yeelded vp the ghost, having those last words in his mouth. What was that but a kinde, tender, and fatherly farwell which he tooke of his children? representing the [Page 223] last adewes, and parting imbracements, which at our death we give vnto our deerest issues? And an effect of that naturall inclination, which in that last extremity puts vs in minde of those things, which in our life-time we have held dearest and most precious? Shall we ima­gine that Ep [...]curus, who (as himselfe said) dying tormented with the extreame paine of the chollike, had all his comfort in the beauty of the doctrine, which he left behinde him in the world, would have received as much contentment of a number of well-borne, and better­bred children (if he had had any) as he did of the production of his rich compositions? And if it had beene in his choise, to leave behind him, either a counterfeit, deformed, or ill-borne childe, or a foolish, triviall, and idle booke, not onely he, but all men in the world besides of like learning and sufficiency, would much rather have chosen, to incurre the former then the latter mischiefe. It might peradventure be deemed impiety, in Saint Augustine (for ex­ample-sake) if on the one part one should propose vnto him, to bury all his bookes, whence our religion receiveth so much good, or to interre his children (if in case he had any) that he would not rather chuse to bury his children; or the issue of his loynes, then the fruits of of his minde. And I wot not well, whether my selfe should not much rather desire to beget and produce a perfectly-well-shaped, and excellently-qualited infant, by the acquaintance of the Muses, then by the copulation of my wife. Whatsoever I give to this, let the world allow of it as it please, I give it as purely and irrevocable, as any man can give to his corporal children. That little good which I have done him, is no longer in my disposition. He may know many things, that my selfe know no longer, and hold of me what I could not hold my selfe: and which (if neede should require) I must borrow of him as of a stranger. If I be wiser then he, he is richer then I. There are few men given vnto Poesie, that would not esteeme it for a greater honour, to be the fathers of Ʋirgils Aeneidos, then of the goodliest boy in Rome, and that would not rather endure the losse of the one then the perishing of the other. For, according to Aristotle, Of all workemen, the Poet is principally the most amorous of his pro­ductions and conceited of his Labours. It is not easie to be believed, that Epaminondas, who van­ted to leave some daughters behind him, which vnto all posterity, should one day highly honour their father (they were the two famous victories, which he had gained of the Lace­demonians) would ever have given his free consent, to change them, with the best-borne, most gorgeous, and goodliest damsels of all Greece: or that Alexander, and Caesar, did ever wish to be deprived of the greatnesse of their glorious deedes of warre, for the commodity to have children and heires of their owne bodies, how absolutely-perfect, and well accompli­shed so ever they might be. Nay, I make a great question, whether Phidtas or any other ex­cellent statuary, would as highly esteeme, and dearely love the preservation, and successefull continuance of his naturall children, as he would an exquisite and match-lesse-wrought I­mage, that with long study, and diligent care he had perfected according vnto arte. And as concerning those vicious and furious passions, which sometimes have inflamed some fathers to the love of their daughters, or mothers towards their sonnes; the very same, and more partially-earnest is also found in this other kinde of childe-bearing and aliance. Witnesse that which is reported of Pigmalion, who having curiously framed a goodly statue, of a most singularly-beauteous woman, was so strange-fondly, and passionately surprised with the lust­full love of his owne workmanship, that the Gods through his raging importunity were faine in favour of him to give it life.

The ninth Chapter.

IT is a vitious fond fashion of the Nobility and gentry of our age, and full of nice-tender­nesse, never to betake themselves to armes, except vpon some vrgent and extreame neces­sity: [Page 224] and to quit them as soone as they perceive the least hope or apparance, that the danger is past: Whence ensue many disorders, and inconveniences: For, every one running and calling for his armes when the alarum is given, some have not yet buckled their cuirace, when their fellowes are already defeated. Indeede our forefathers would have their Caske, Lance, Gantlets, and Shields carried, but so long as the service lasted, themselves would ne­ver leave-off their other pieces. Our troopes are now all confounded and disordered, by reason of bag and baggage, of carriages, of lackies, and foote-boies, which because of their masters armes they carry, can never leave them. Titus Livius; speaking of the French, saith, Intolerantissima laboris corpora vix arma humer is gerebant. Their bodies most impatient of labour Liv. d [...]. 1. l. 10 could hardly beare armour on their backes. Divers Nations, as they did in former times, so yet at this day, are seene to goe to the warres, without any thing about them, or if they had, it was of no defence; but were all naked and bare.

Alexander the most daring and hazardous Captain that ever was, did very seldome arme himselfe: And those which amongst vs neglect them, doe not thereby much empaire their reputation. If any man chance to be slaine for want of an armour, there are as many more that miscary with the over-heavy burthen of their armes, and by them are engaged, and by a counterbuffe are brused, or otherwise defeated. For in truth to see the vnweildy weight of our and their thicknesse, it seemeth we but endevour to defend our selves, and we are rather charged then covered by them. We have enough to doe, to endure the burthen of them, and are so engived and shackled in them, as if we were to fight but with the shocke or brunt of our armes: And as if we were as much bound to defend them, as they to shield vs. Cornelius Facitus doth pleasantly quip and jest at the men of war of our ancient Gaules, so armed, only to maintaine themselves, as they that have no meane, either to offend or to be offended, or to raise themselves being overthrowne. Lucullus seeing certaine Median men at armes, which were in the front of Tigranes Army, heavily and vnweildely armed, as in an yron-prison, ap­prehended thereby an opinion, that he might easily defeat them, and began to charge them first, and got the victory. And now that our Muskettiers, are in such credite, I thinke we shall haue some invention found to immure vs vp, that so we may be warranted from them, and to traine vs to the warres in Skonces and Bastions, as those which our fathers caused to be carried by Elephants. A humour farre different from that of Scipio the yoonger, who sharp­ly reprooved his souldiers, because they had scattered certaine Calthrops vnder the water alongst a dike, by which those of the Towne that he besieged might sally out vpon him, saying; that those which assailed, should resolve to enterprise and not to feare: And had some reason to feare, that this provision might secure and lull their vigilancy asleepe to guard themselves. Moreover he said to a yoong man, that shewed him a faire shield he had; In­deed good youth, it is a faire one, but a Roman souldier ought to have more confidence in his right hand, than in his left. It is onely custome that makes the burthen of our armes intole­rable vnto vs.

The Emperour Caracalla in leading of his Army was ever wont to march a foot armed at all assaies. The Roman footmen caried not their morions, sword and target only, as for other armes (saith Cicero) they were so accustomed to weare them continually, that they hindered [Page 225] them no more then their limbs: Arma enim, membra militis esse dicunt: for they say armor and weapon, are a soldiers limbs. But there withal such victuals as they should need for a fortnight and a certaine number of stakes, to make their rampards or palisadoes with; so much as weighed threescore pound weight. And Marius his souldiers thus loden, marching in battel­array, were taught to march five leagues in five houres, yea six if need required. Their mili­tary discipline was much more laborsome then ours: So did it produce far different effects. Scipto the yonger, reforming his army in Spaine, appointed his souldiers to eate no meate but standing, and nothing sodden or rosted. It is worth the remembrance how a Lacedemoni­an souldier being in an expedition of warre, was much noted and blamed, because hee was once seene to seeke for shelter vnder a house: They were so hardened to enduree all manner of labour and toyle, that it was counted a reprechfull infamy for a souldier to be seene vnder any other roofe then that of heavens-vault, in what weather soever: Were we to doe so, we should never leade our men far. Marcellinus a man well trained in the Roman wars, doth cu­riously observe the manner which the Parthians vsed to arme themselves, and noteth it so much the more, by how much it was far different from the Romans. They had (saith he) certaine armes so curiously enter-wrought as they seemed to be made like feathers, which no­thing hindered the stirring of their bodies, and yet so strong, that our darts hitting them, did rather rebound, or glance by, then hurt them (they be the scales our ancestors were so much wont to vse.) In another place, they had (saith he) their horses stiffe and strong, coue­red with thicke hides, and themselves armed from head to foote, with massie yron plates so artificially contrived, that where the joynts are, there they furthered the motion, and helped the stirring. A man would have said, they had been men made of yron: For they had peeces so handsomly fitted and so lively representing the forme and parts of the face; that there was no way to wound them, but at certaine little holes before their eyes, which served to give them some light, and by certaine chinckes about their nostrils, by which they hardly drew breath

Loc-heere a description, much resembling the equipage of a compleat French-manat armes, with all his bardes. Plutarke reporteth that Demetrius caused two Armours to be made, each one weighing six score pounds, the one for himselfe, the other for Alcinus, the chiefe man of war, that was next to him, whereas all common Armours weighed but threescore.

The tenth Chapter.

I Make no doubt but it shall often be fall me to speake of things, which are better, and with more truth handled by such as are their crafts-masters. Here is simply an Essay of my na­turall faculties, and no whit of those I have acquired. And he that shall tax me with igno­rance, shall have no great victory at my hands; for hardly could I give others reason for my discourses, that give none vnto my selfe, and am not well satisfied with them. He that shall make serch after knowledge, let him seeke it where it is: there is nothing I professe lesse. [Page 226] These are but my fantasies, by which I endevour not to make things knowen, but myselfe. They may haply one day be knowen vnto me, or have bin at other times, according as for­tune hath brought me where they were declared or manifested. But I remember them no more. And if I be a man of some reading, yet I am a man of no remembring, I conceive no certainty, except it bee to give notice, how farre the knowledge I have of it, dooth now reach. Let no man busie himselfe about the matters, but on the fashion I give them. Let that which I borrow be survaid, and then tell me whether I have made good choice of ornaments, to beautifie and set foorth the invention, which ever comes from mee. For, I make others to relate (not after mine owne fantasie, but as it best falleth out) what I can not so well expresse, either through vnskill of language, or want of judgement. I number not my borrowings, but I weigh them. And if I would have made their number to prevaile, I would have had twice as many. They are all, or almost all of so famous and ancient names, that me thinks they sufficiently name themselves without mee. If in reasons, com­parisons and arguments, I transplant any into my soile, or confound them with mine owne, I purposely conceale the Authour, thereby to bridle the rashnesse of these hastie cen­sures, that are so headlong cast vpon all manner of compositions, namely yoong writings, of men yet living; and in vulgare, that admitte all the worlde to talke of them, and which seemeth to convince the conception and publike designe alike. I will have them to give Plu­tarch a bobbe vpon mine owne lippes, and vex themselves, in wronging Seneca in mee. My weakenesse must be hidden vnder such great credites. I will love him that shall trace, or vn­feather me; I meane through clearenesse of judgement, and by the onely distinction of the force and beautie of my Discourses. For my selfe, who for want of memorie, am ever to seeke, how to trie and refine them, by the knowledge of their country, knowe perfectly, by measuring mine owne strength, that my soyle is no way capable, of some over-pretious flo­wers, that therin I find set, and that all the fruites of my encrease could not make it amendes. This am I bound to answer-for, if I hinder my selfe, if there be either vanitie, or fault in my Discourses, that I perceive not or am not able to discerne, if they be shewed me. For, ma­ny faults doe often escape our eyes; but the infirmitie of judgement consisteth in not being able to perceive them, when another discovereth them vnto vs. Knowledge and truth may be in vs without judgement, and we may have judgement without them: Yea, the acknow­ledgement of ignorance, is one of the best and surest testimonies of judgement that I can finde. I have no other Sergeant of band to marshall my rapsodies, than fortune. And looke how my humours or conceites present them-selves, so I shuffle them vp. Sometimes they prease out thicke and thee-folde, and other times they come out languishing one by one. I will have my naturall and ordinarie pace seene as loose, and as shuffling as it is. As I am, so I goe on plodding. And besides, these are matters, that a man may not be ignorant of, and rashly and casually to speake of them. I would wish to have a more perfect vnderstanding of things, but I will not purchase it so deare, as it cost. My intention is to passe the remainder of my life quietly, and not laboriously, in rest, and not in care. There is nothing I will trou­ble or vex my selfe about, no not for Science it selfe, what esteeme soever it be-of. I doe not search and tosse over Books, but for an honester recreation to please, and pastime to de­light my selfe: or if I studie, I onely endevour to find out the knowledge that teacheth or handleth the knowledge of my selfe, and which may instruct me how to die well, and how to live well.

If in reading I fortune to meete with any difficult points, I fret not my selfe about them, but after I have giuen them a charge or two, I leave them as I found them. Should I earnest­ly plod vpon them I should loose both time and my selfe; for I have a skipping wit. What I see not at the first view, I shall lesse see it, if I opinionate my selfe vpon it. I doe nothing with­out blithnesse▪ and an over obstinate continuation and plodding contention, doth dazle, dul and weary the same: My sight is thereby confounded and diminished. I must therefore with­draw-it, and at fittes goe to it againe. Even as to judge well of the lustre of scarlet we are taught to cast our eyes ouer it, in running it over by divers glances, sodaine glimpses, and re­iterated reprisings. If one booke seeme tedious vnto me, I take another, which I follow not [Page 227] with any earnestnes, except it be at such houres as I am idle, or that I am wearie with doing nothing. I am not greatly affected to new books, because ancient Authors are in my judge­ment more full and pithie: nor am I much addicted to Greeke books, forasmuch as my vn­derstanding can well rid his worke with a childish and apprentise intelligence. Amongst moderne bookes meerly pleasant. I esteeme Bocace his Decameron, Rabelais, and the kisses of Iohn the second (if they may be placed vnder this title) worth the paines-taking to reade them. As for Amadis and such like trash of writings, they had never the credit so much as to allure my youth to delight in them. This I will say more, either boldly or rashly, that this old and heavie-pased mind of mine, will no more be pleased with Aristotle, or tickled with good Ovid: his facilitie, and quaint inventions, which heretofore have so ravished me, they can now adaies scarcely entertaine me. I speake my minde freely of all things, yea of such as peradventure exceede my sufficiencie, and that no-way I hold to be of my jurisdicti­on. What my conceit is of them, is also to manifest the proportion of my insight, and not the measure of things. If at any time I find my selfe distasted of Platoes Axiochus, as of a forceles worke, due regarde had to such an Author, my judgement doth nothing beleeve it selfe: It is not so fond-hardy, or selfe-conceited, as it durst dare to oppose it selfe against the authori­ty of so many other famous ancient judgements, which he reputeth his regents and maisters, and with whome hee had rather erre. He chafeth with, and condemneth himselfe, either to rely on the superficiall sense, being vnable to pierce into the centre, or to view the thing by some falce lustre. He is pleased onely to warrant himselfe from trouble and vnrulines: As for weaknes he acknowledgeth and ingeniously auoweth the same. He thinkes to give a just interpetation to the apparances which his conception presents vnto him, but they are shal­low and imperfect. Most of Aesopes fables have divers senses, and severall interpretations: Those which Mythologize them, chuse some kinde of color well-suting with the fable; but for the most part, it is no other then the first and superficiall glosse: There are others more quicke, more sinnowie, more essential and more internal, into which they could never pene­trate; and thus thinke I with them. But to follow my course; I have ever deemed that in Poesie, Virgil, Lucretius, Catullus, and Horace, doe doubtles by far hold the first ranke: and especially Virgil in his Georgiks, which I esteeme to be the most accomplished piece of worke of Poesie: In comparison of which one may easily discerne, that there are some pas­sages in the Aeneidos, to which the Author (had he lived) would no doubt have given some review or correction: The fift booke whereof is (in my mind) the most absolutely perfect. I also love Lucan, and willingly read him, not so much for his stile, as for his owne worth, and truth of his opinion and judgement. As for good Terence, I allow the quaintnes and grace of his Latin tongue, and judge him wonderfull conceited and apt, lively to represent the motions and pashions of the minde, and the condition of our manners: our actions make me often remember him. I can never reade him so often, but still I discover some new grace and beautie in him. Those that lived about Virgils time, complained that some would compare Lucretius vnto him. I am of opinion, that verily it is an vnequall comparison; yet can I hard­ly assure my selfe in this opinion whensoever I find my selfe entangled in some notable pas­sage of Lucretius. If they were moved at this comparison, what would they say now of the fond, hardie and barbarous stupiditie of those which now adaies compare Ariosto vnto him? Nay what would Artosto say of it himselfe?

I thinke our ancestors had also more reason to cry out against those that blushed not to equall Plautus vnto Terence (who makes more shew to be a Gentleman) then Lucretius vnto Virgil. This one thing doth greatly advantage the estimation and preferring of Terence, that the father of the Roman eloquence, of men of his quality doth so often make mention of him; and the censure, which the chiefe judge of the Roman Poets giveth of his compa­nion. It hath often come vnto my minde, how such as in our daies giue themselues to com­posing of comedes (as the Italians who are very happie in them) employ three or foure ar­guments of Terence and Plautus to make vp one of theirs. In one onely comedie they will huddle vp five or six of Bocaces tales. That which makes them so to charge themselves with matter, is the distrust they have of their owne sufficiency, and that they are not able to vn­dergoe [Page 228] so heavie a burthen with their owne strength. They are forced to finde a body on which they may rely and leane themselves: and wanting matter of their owne wherewith to please vs, they will have the story or tale to busie and ammuse vs: where as in my Authors it is cleane contrary: The elegancies, the perfections and ornaments of his manner of speech, make vs neglect and loose the longing for his subiect. His quaintnesse and grace doe still re­taine vs to him. He is every where pleasantly conceited,

and doth so replenish our minde with his graces, that we forget those of the fable. The same consideration drawes me somewhat further. I perceive that good and ancient Poets have shunned the affectation and enquest, not onely of fantasticall, new fangled, Spagniolized, and Petrarchisticall elevations, but also of more sweet and sparing inventions, which are the ornament of all the Poeticall workes of succeeding ages. Yet is there no competent judge, that findeth them wanting in those ancient ones, and that doth not much more admire that smoothly equall neatnesse, continued sweetnesse, and florishing comelinesse of Catullus his Epigrams, then all the sharpe quippes, and witty girds, wherewith Martiall doth whet and embellish the conclusions of his. It is the same reason I spake of erewhile, as Martiall of himselfe. Minus illi ingenio laborandum fuit, in cuius locum materia successerat. He needed the Mart. praef l. 8. lesse worke with his wit, in place whereof matter came in supply; The former without being mo­ved or pricked cause themselves to be heard lowd enough: they have matter to laugh at eve­ry where, and neede not tickle themselves; where as these must have forraine helpe: accor­ding as they have lesse spirit, they must have more body. They leape on horse-backe: be­cause they are not sufficiently strong in their legges to march on foot. Even as in our dances, those base conditioned men that keepe dancing-schooles, because they are vnfit to represent the porte and decency of our nobility, endevour to get commendation by dangerous lofty trickes, and other strange tumbler-like friskes and motions. And some Ladies make a better shew of their countenances in those dances, wherein are divers changes, cuttings, turnings, and agitations of the body, then in some dances of state and gravity, where they neede but simply to tread a natural measure, represent an vnaffected cariage, and their ordinary grace; And as I have also seene some excellent Lourdans, or Clownes attired in their ordinary worky-day clothes, and with a common homely countenance, affoord vs all the pleasure that may be had from their arte: Prentises and learners that are not of so high a forme, to besmeare their faces, to disguise themselves, and in motions to counterfeit strange visages, and antickes, to enduce vs to laughter. This my conception is no where better discerned, then in the comparison betweene Ʋirgils Aeneidos, and Orlando Furios [...]. The first is seene to soare aloft with full-spread wings, and with so high and strong a pitch, ever following his point; the other faintly to hover and flutter from tale to tale, and as it were skipping from bough to bough, alwaies distrusting his owne wings, except it be for some short flight, and for feare his strength and breath should faile him, to sit downe at every fields-end.

Loe-here then, concerning this kind of subjects, what Authors please me best: As for my other lesson, which somewhat more mixeth profite with pleasure, whereby I learne to range my opinions, and addresse my conditions; the Bookes that serve me thereunto, are Plutarke (since he spake French,) and Seneca; Both have this excellent commodity for my humour, that the knowledge I seeke in them, is there so scatteringly and loosely hand­led, that whosoever readeth them is not tied to plod long vpon them, whereof I am vn­capable. And so are Plutarkes little workes, and Senecaes Epistles; which are the best and most profitable partes of their writings. It is no great matter to draw mee to them, and I leave them where I list. For, they succeed not, and depend not one of another. Both jumpe and suite together, in most true and profitable opinions: And fortune brought them both into the world in one age. Both were Tutors vnto two Roman Emperours: Both were strangers, and came from farre Countries; both rich and mighty in the com­mon-wealth, and in credite with their masters. Their instruction is the prime and [Page 229] creame of Philosophie, and presented with a plaine, vnaffected, and pertinent fashion. Plu­tarke is more vniforme and constant; Seneca more waving and diverse. This doth labour, force, and extend himselfe, to arme and strengthen vertue against weaknesse, feare, and viti­ous desires; the other seemeth nothing so much to feare their force or attempt, and in a ma­ner scorneth to hasten or change his pace about them, and to put himselfe vpon his guarde. Plutarkes opinions are Platonicall, gentle and accommodable vnto civill societie: Senacaes Stoicall and Epicurian, further from common vse, but in my conceit, more proper parti­cular, and more solide. It appeareth in Seneca, that he somewhat inclineth and yeeldeth to the tyrannie of the Emperors which were in his daies; for, I verily beleeve, it is with a forced judgement, he condemneth the cause of those noblie-minded murtherers of Caesar: Plutarke is every where free and open-hearted; Seneca, full-fraught with points and sallies, Plutarke stuft with matters. The former doth moove and enflame you more; the latter, content, please, and pay you better: This doth guide you, the other drive you on. As for Cicero, of all his works, those that treat of Philosophie (namely morall) are they which best serve my turne, and square with my intent. But boldly to confesse the trueth, (For, Since the bars of impu­dencie were broken downe, all curbing is taken away) his maner of writing seemeth verie tedious vnto me, as doth all such-like stuffe. For, his prefaces, definitions, divisions, and Etymolo­gies, consume the greatest part of his Works; whatsoever quicke, wittie, and pithie conceit is in him, is surcharged, and confounded by those his long and far-fetcht preambles. If I be­stow but one houre in reading him, which is much for me; and let me call to minde what sub­stance, or juice I have drawne from him, for the most part, I find nothing but winde & osten­tation in him: for he is not yet come to the arguments, which make for his purpose, and reasons that properly concerne the knot or pith I seek-after. These Logicall and Aristote­lian ordinances are not availfull for me, who onely endevour to become more wise and suf­ficient, and not more wittie or eloquent. I would have one begin with the last point: I vn­derstand sufficiently what death and voluptuousnesse are: let not a man busie himselfe to anatomize them. At the first reading of a Booke, I seeke for good and solide reasons, that may instruct me how to sustaine their assaults. It is nether gramaticall subtilties, nor logi­call quiddities, nor the wittie contexture of choise words, or arguments, and syllogismes, that will serve my turne. I like those discourses that give the first charge to the strongest, part of the doubt; his are but flourishes, and languish every where. They are good for Schooles, at the barre, or for Orators and Preachers, where we may slumber: and though we wake a quarter of an houre after, we may find and trace him soone enough. Such a ma­ner of speech is fit for those Iudges, that a man would corrupt by hooke or crooke, by right or wrong, or for children and the common people, vnto whom a man must tell all, and see what the event will be. I would not have a man go about, and labour by circumlocutions, to induce and win me to attention, and that (as our Herolds or Criers do) they shall ring out their words. Now heare me, now listen, or [...]o [...]yes. The Romanes in their Religion were wont to say, Hoc age; which in ours we say, Sursum corda. There are so many lost words for me. I come readie prepared from my house. I need no allurement nor sawce; my stomacke is good enough to digest raw meat: And whereas with these preparatives and flourishes, or preambles, they thinke to sharpen my taste, or stir my stomacke, they cloy and make it wallowish. Shall the priviledge of times excuse me from this sacrilegious boldnesse, to deeme Platoes Dialogismes to be as languishing, by over-filling and stuffing his matter? And to bewaile the time that a man, who had so many thousands of things to vtter, spends about so many, so long, so vaine, and idle interloquutions, and preparatives? My ignorance shall better excuse me, in that I see nothing in the beautie of his language. I generally en­quire after Bookes, that vse sciences, and not after such as institute them. The two first, and Plinie, with others of their ranke, have no Hoc age in them, they will have to doe with men, that have forewarned themselves; or if they have, it is a materiall and substantiall Hoc age, and that hath his bodie apart. I likewise love to read the Epistles and ad Atticum, not onely because they containe a most ample instruction of the Historie, and affaires of his times, but much more because in them I descrie his private humours. For, (as I have said else­where (I am wonderfull curious, to discover and know, the minde, the soule, the genuine disposition, and naturall judgement of my Authors. A man ought to judge their suffici­encie, and not their customes, nor them by the shew of their writings. Which they set [Page 230] forth on this worlds Theatre. I have sorrowed a thousand times, that ever we lost the booke, that Brutus writ of Virtue. Oh it is a goodly thing to learne the Theorike of such as vnderstand the practise well. But forsomuch as the Sermon is one thing, and the Preacher an other: I love as much to see Brutus in Plutarke, as in himselfe, I would rather make choise to know certainly, what talke he had in his Tent with some of his familiar friends, the night fore-going the bat­tell, then the speach he made the morrow after to his Armie: and what he did in his chamber or closet, then what in the Senate or market place. As for Cicero, I am of the common judge­ment, that besides learning, there was no exquisite excellencie in him: He was a good Citi­zen, of an honest-gentle nature, as are commonly fat and burly men; for so was he: But to speake truely of him, full of ambitious vanitie and remisse nicenesse. And I know not well how to excuse him, in that he deemed his Poesie worthy to be published. It is no great im­perfection, to make bad verses, but it is an imperfection in him, that he never perceived how vnworthy they were of the glorie of his name. Concerning his eloquence, it is beyond all comparison, and I verily beleeve, that none shall ever equall it. Cicero the yoonger, who re­sembled his father in nothing, but in name, commaunding in Asia, chanced one day to have many strangers at his board, and amongst others, one Castius sitting at the lower end, as the maner is to thrust-in at great mens tables: Cicero inquired of one of his men what he was, who told him his name, but he dreaming on other matters, and having forgotten what an­swere his man made him, asked him his name twice or thrice more: the servant, because he would not be troubled to tell him one thing so often, and by some circumstance make him to know him better. It is, said he, the same Castius, to whom some have told you, that in respect of his owne, maketh no accompt of your fathers eloquence: Cicero being suddainly, mooved, commaunded the said poore Castius, to be presently taken from the table, and well whipt in his presence: Lo-heere an vncivill and barbarous host. Even amongst those, which (all things considered) have deemed his eloquence matchlesse and incomparable others there have been, who have not spared to note some faults in it: As great Brutus said, that it was an eloquence, broken, halting, and disjoynted, fractam & elumbem: Incoherent and sinnowlesse. Those Orators that lived about his age, reprooved also in him the curious care he had of a certaine long cadence, at the end of his clauses, and noted these words, Esse videatur, which he so often vseth. As for me, I rather like a cadence that falleth shorter, cut like I am bikes: yet doth he sometimes confound his numbers; but it is seldome: I have es­pecially observed this one place. Ego verò me minus diu senem esse mallem, quàm esse seuem, Ci [...]. d [...] Senect. antequam essem. But I had rather, not be an old man so long as I might be, than to be old before I should be. Historians are my right hand; for they are pleasant and easie: and therewithall, the man with whom I desire generally to be acquainted, may more lively and perfectly be discovered in them, than in any other composition: the varietie and truth of his inward con­ditions, in grosse and by retale: the diversitie of the meanes of his collection and composing, and of the accidents that threaten him. Now, those that write of mens lives, forasmuch as they ammuse and busie themselves more about counsels than events, more about that which commeth from within, than that which appeareth outward; they are fittest for me: And that's the reason why Plutarke above all in that kind, doth best please me. Indeed I am not a little grieved that we have not a dozen of Laer [...]ij, or that he is not more knowne, or better vnderstood: for, I am no lesse curious to know the fortunes and lives of these great masters of the world, than to vnderstand the diversitie of their decrees and conceits. In this kind of studie of Historie, a man must, without distinction, tosse and turne over all sorts of Authors, both old and new, both French and others, if he will learne the things they so diversly treat-of. But me thinks that Caesar above all doth singularly deserve to be studied, not onely for the vnderstanding of the Historie, as of himselfe; so much perfection and ex­cellencie is there in him more than in others, although Salust be reckoned one of the num­ber. Verily I read that Author with a little more reverence and respect, than commonly men reade profane and humane Workes: sometimes considering him by his actions, and wonders of his greatnesse, and other times waighing the puritie and inimitable polishing and elegancie of his tongue, which (as Cicero saith) hath not onely exceeded all Historians, but happly Cicero himselfe: with such sinceritie in his judgement. Speaking of his enemies, that except the false colours, wherewith he goeth about to cloake his bad cause, and the cor­ruption and filthinesse of his pestilent ambition. I am perswaded there is nothing in him to [Page 231] be found fault-with: and that he hath been over-sparing to speake of himselfe: for, so many notable and great things could never be executed by him, vnlesse he had put more of his owne vnto them, than he setteth downe. I love those Historians that are either verie simple, or most excellent. The simple who have nothing of their owne to adde vnto the storie, and have but the care and diligence to collect whatsoever come vnto their knowledge, and sin­cerely and faithfully to register all things, without choice or culling, by the naked truth leave our judgement more entire, and better satisfied.

Such amongst others (for example sake) plaine and well-meaning Froisard, who in his en­ter prize, hath marched with so free and genuine a puritie, that having committed some over­sight; he is neither ashamed to acknowledge, nor afraide to correct the same, wheresoever he hath either notice or warning of it: and who representeth vnto vs the diversitie of the newes then currant, and the different reports, that were made vnto him. The subject of an historie should be naked, bare, and formelesse; each man according to his capacitie or vnderstan­ding may reap commoditie out of it. The curious and most excellent have the sufficiencie to cull and chuse that, which is worthie to be knowne, and may select of two relations, that which is most likely: of the condition of Princes, and of their humors, therby they conclude their counsels, and attribute convenient words vnto them: they have reason to assume au­thoritie vnto them, to direct and shapen our beliefe vnto theirs. But truely that belongs not to many. Such as are betweene both (which is the most common fashion) it is they that spoile all; they will needs chew our meat for vs, and take vpon them a law to judge, and by conse­quence to square and encline the storie according to their fantasie; for, where the judgement bendeth one way, a man cannot chuse but wrest and turne his narration that way. They vn­dertake to chuse things worthy to be knowne, and now and then conceal either a word, or a secret action from vs, which would much better instruct vs: omitting such things as they vnderstand not, as incredible: and happily such matters, as they know not how to declare, either in good Latin, or tollerable French. Let them boldly enstall their eloquence, and dis­course: Let them censure at their pleasure, but let them also give vs leave to judge after them: And let them neither alter nor dispence by their abridgements and choise, any thing belon­ging to the substance of the matter; but let them rather send it pure and entire with all hir dimensions vnto vs. Most commonly (as chiefly in our age) this charge of writing histories is committed vnto base, ignorant, and mechanicall kind of people, only for this considera­tion that they can speak well; as if we sought to learne the Grammer of them; and they have some reason, being only hyred to that end, and publishing nothing but their tittle-tattle to aime at nothing else so much. Thus with store of choise and quaint words, and wyre-drawne phrases they huddle vp, and make a hodge-pot of a laboured contexture of the reports, which they gather in the market-places, or such other assemblies. The only good histories are those that are written by such as commanded, or were imploid themselves in weighty affaires, or that were part­ners in the conduct of them, or that at least have had the fortune to manage others of like qualitie. Such in a maner are all the Graecians and Romans. For, many eye-witnesses hauing written of one same subject (as it hapned in those times, when Greatnesse and Knowledge did com­monly meet) if any fault or over-sight have past them, it must be deemed exceeding light, and vpon some doubtfull accident. What may a man expect at a Phisitions hand, that discourseth of warre, or of a bare Scholler, treating of Princes secret designes? If we shall but note the religi­on, which the Romans had in that, we need no other example: Asinius Polio found some mis­taking or oversight in Caesars Commentaries, whereinto he was falne, only because he could not possiblie oversee all things with his owne eyes, that hapned in his Armie, but was faine to relie on the reports of particular men, who often related vntruths vnto him; or else because he had not been curiously advertised, and distinctly enformed by his Lieutenants and Cap­taines, of such matters as they in his absence had managed or effected. Whereby may be seen, that nothing is so hard, or so vncertaine to be found-out, as the certaintie of a Truth, sithence no man can put any assured confidence concerning the truth of a battel, neither in the know­ledge of him, that was Generall, or commanded over it, nor in the soldiers that fought, of any thing, that hath hapned amongst them; except after the maner of a strict point of law, the severall witnesses are brought and examined face to face, and that all matters be nicely and thorowly sifted by the objects and trials of the successe of every accident. Verily the know­ledge we have of our own affaires is much more barren and feeble. But this hath sufficiently [Page 232] been handled by Bodine, and agreeing with my conception. Somewhat to aide the weaknesse of my memorie, and to assist her great defects; for it hath often been my chance to light vp­on bookes, which I supposed to be new, and never to have read, which I had not vnderstan­ding diligently read and run-over many yeares before, and all bescribled with my notes: I have a while since accustomed my selfe, to note at the end of my booke (I meane such as I purpose to read but once) the time I made an end to read it, and to set downe what censure or judgement I gave of it; that so, it may at least, at another time represent vnto my mind, the aire and generall Idea, I had conceived of the Author in reading him. I will here set downe the Coppie of some of mine annotations, and especially what I noted vpon my Guicciardine about ten yeares since: (For what language soever my bookes speake vnto me, I speake vnto them in mine owne.) He is a diligent Historiographer, and from whom in my conceit, a man may as exactly learne the truth of such affaires as passed in his time, as of any other wri­ter whatsoever: and the rather because himselfe hath been an Actor of most part of them, and in verie honourable place. There is no signe or apparance, that ever he disguised or co­loured any matter, either through hatred, malice, favour, or vanitie; whereof the free and im­parciall judgements he giveth of great men, and namely of those by whom he had been ad­vanced or imployed in his important charges, as of Pope Clement the seaventh, beareth vn­doubted testimonie. Concerning the parts wherewith he most goeth about to prevaile, which are his digressions and discourses, many of them are verie excellent, and enriched with faire ornaments, but he hath too much pleased himselfe in them: for, endevouring to omit no­thing that might be spoken, having so full and large a subject, and almost infinite, he proveth somewhat languishing, and giveth a taste of a kind of scholasticall tedious babling. More­over, I have noted this, that of so severall and divers armes, successes, and effects he judgeth of; of so many and variable motives, alterations, and counsels, that he relateth, he never re­ferreth any one vnto vertue, religion, or conscience: as if they were all extinguished and bani­shed the world: and of all actions, how glorious soever in apparance they be of themselves, he doth ever impute the cause of them, to some vicious and blame-worthie occasion, or to some commoditie and profit. It is impossible to imagine, that amongst so infinite a number of actions, whereof he judgeth, some one have not been produced and compassed by way of reason. No corruption could ever possesse men so vniversally, but that some one must of ne­cessity escape the contagion; which makes me to feare, he hath had some distaste or blame in his passion, and it hath haply fortuned, that he hath judged or esteemed of others according to himselfe. In my Philip de Comines, there is this: In him you shall find a pleasing-sweet, and gently-gliding speach, fraught with a purely-sincere simplicitie, his narration pure and vnaffected, and wherein the Authours vnspotted-good meaning doth evidently appeare, void of all maner of vanitie or ostentation speaking of himselfe, and free from all affection or envie speaking of others: his discourses and perswasions, accompanied more with a well­meaning zeale, and meere veritie, then with any laboured and exquisit sufficiencie, and all­through, with gravitie and authoritie, representing a man well-borne, and brought vp in high negotiations. Vpon the memories and historie of Monsieur du Bellay: It is ever a well-plea­sing thing, to see matters writen by those, that have assaide how, & in what maner they ought to be directed and managed: yet can it not be denied, but that in both these Lords, there will manifestly appeare a great declination from a free libertie of writing, which clearely shineth in ancient writers of their kind: as in the Lord of Ionuille, familiar vnto Saint Lewis, Eginard, Chancellor vnto Charlemaine; and of more fresh memorie in Philip de Comines. This is ra­ther a declamation or pleading for king Francis against the Emperour Charles the fifth, then an Historie. I will not believe, they have altered or changed any thing concerning the gene­ralitie of matters, but rather to wrest and turne the judgement of the events, many times against reason, to our advantage, and to omit whatsoever they supposed, to be doubtfull or ticklish in their masters life: they have made profession of it witnesse the recoylings of the Lords of Momorancy and Byron, which therein are forgotten; and which is more, you shall not so much as find the name of the Ladie of Estampes mentioned at all. A man may sometimes colour, and happily hide secret actions, but absolutely to conceal that, which all the world knoweth, and especially such things as have drawne-on publike effects, and of such consequence, it is an inexcusable defect, or as I may say vnpardonable oversight. To conclude, whosoever desireth to have perfect information and knowledge of King Fraucis [Page 233] the first, and of the things hapned in his time, let him addresse himselfe elsewhere, if he will give any credite vnto me. The profite he may reap heer, is by the particular destruction of the battels and exploits of warre, wherein these Gentlemen were present; some privie con­ferences, speaches, or secret actions of some Princes, that then lived, and the practises ma­naged, or negotiations directed by the Lord of Langeay, in whom doubtlesse are verie many things, well-worthie to be knowne, and diverse discourses not vulgare.

The eleaventh Chapter.

ME thinks vertue is another manner of thing, and much more noble than the inclina­tions vnto goodnesse, which in vs are ingendered. Mindes well borne, and directed by themselves, follow one same path, and in their actions represent the same visage, that the vertuous doe. But vertue importeth, and soundeth somewhat I wot not what greater and more active, then by an happy complexion, gently and peaceably, to suffer it selfe to be led or drawne, to follow reason. He that through a naturall facilitie, and genuine mildnesse, should neglect or contemne injuries received, should no doubt performe a rare action, and worthy commendation: But he who being toucht and stung to the quicke, with any wrong or of­fence received, should arme himselfe with reason against this furiously-blind desire of re­venge, and in the end after a great conflict, yeeld himselfe master over-it, should doubtlesse doe much more. The first should doe well, the other vertuously: the one action might be termed goodnesse, the other vertue. For, It seemeth, that the verie name of vertue presupposeth difficultie, and inferreth resistance, and cannot well exercise it selfe without an enemie. It is perad­venture the reason why we call God good, mightie, liberall, and just, but we terme him not vertuous. His workes are all voluntarie, vnforced, and without compulsion. Of Philoso­phers, not onely Stoicks, but also Epicurians (which endearing I borrow of the common re­ceived opinion, which is false) whatsoever the nimble saying or wittie quipping of Arsesilaus implieth, who answered the man that vpbraided him, how divers men went from his schoole to the Epicurian, but none came from thence to him: I easily beleeve-it (said he) for, Of cocks are many capons made, but no man could ever yet make a cocke of a capon. For truly, in constan­cie, and rigor of opinions, and strictnesse of precepts, the Epicurian Sect doth in no sort yeeld to the Stoicke. And a Stoicke acknowledging a better faith, then those disputers, who to con­tend with Epicurus, and make sport with him, make him to infer and say what he never ment, wresting and wyre drawing his words to a contrarie sense, arguing and silogizing by the Grammarians priviledge, another meaning, by the maner of his speach, and another opinion, then that they know he had, either in his minde, or maners, saith, that he left to be an Epicurian, for this one consideration amongst others, that he findeth their pitch to be over­high and inaccessible: Et ij qui [...] vocantur, sunt [...] & [...] omnésque virtu­tes Sen. epist. 13. & colunt & retinent. And those that are called lovers of pleasure, are lovers of honestie and iustice, and doe both reverence and retaine all sorts of vertue. Of Stoicke and Epicurian Philo­sophers, I say, there are divers, who have judged, that it was not sufficient to have the minde well placed, well ordered, and well disposed vnto vertue; it was not enough to have our reso­lutions and discourse beyond all the affronts and checks of fortune; but that moreover, it was verie requisite, to seeke for occasions, whereby a man might come to the triall of it: They will diligently quest and seek out for paine, smart, necessitie, want, and contempt, that so they may combate them, and keep their minde in breath: Multum sibi adijcit virtus lacessita. Ʋertue provoked addes much to it selfe. It is one of the reasons why Epaminondas (who was of a third sect) by a verie lawfull way refuseth some riches, fortune had put into his hands, to the end (as he saith) he might have cause to strive and resist povertie, in which want and ex­tremitie he ever continued after.

Socrates did in my minde more vndantedly enure himselfe to this humor, maintaining for his exercise the peevish frowardnesse of his wife, then which no essay can be more vex-full, [Page 234] and is a continuall fighting at the sharpe. Metellus of all the Romane Senators (he onely having vndertaken with the power of vertue, to endure the violence of Saturninus Tribune of the people in Rome, who by maine force went about, to have a most vnjust law passe in favor of the Communaltie: by which opposition, having incurred all the capital paines, that Saturninus had imposed on such as should refuse it) intertained those that led him to the place of execution, with such speeches: That to doe evill was a thing verie easie, and too demissely base: and to doe well where was no danger, was a common thing; but to doe well, where was both perill and opposition, was the peculiar office of a man of vertue. These words of Metellus doe clearely represent vnto vs, what I would have verified; which is, that vertue reiecteth facilitie to be hir companion: And that an easefull, pleasant, and declining way, by which the regular steps of a good inclination of nature, are directed, is not the way of true vertue. She requireth a craggie, rough, and thornie way; She would either have strange difficulties to wrestle with­all (as that of Metellus) by whose meanes fortune hir selfe is pleased to breake the roughnesse of his course; or inward encombrances, as the disordinate appetites and imperfections of our condition bring vnto hir. Hitherto I have come at good ease; but at the end of this dis­course, one thing commeth into my minde, which is, that the soule of Socrates, which is ab­solute the perfectest that ever came to my knowledge, would, according to my accompt, prove a soule deserving but little commendation: For, I can perceive no maner of violence or vicious concupisence in him: I can imagine no maner of difficultie or compulsion in the whole course of his vertue. I know his reason so powerfull, and so absolute mistresse over him, that she can never give him way to any vicious desire, and will not suffer it so much as to breed in him. To a vertue so exquisit, and so high-raised as his is, I can perswade nothing. Me thinkes I see it march with a victorious and triumphant pace, in pompe, and at ease, without let or disturbance. If vertue cannot shine but by resisting contrarie appetites, shall we then say, it cannot passe without the assistance of vice, and oweth him this, that by his meanes it attaineth to honour and credit? What should also betide of that glorious and ge­nerous Epicurian voluptuousnesse, that makes accompt, effeminately to pamper vertue in hir lap, and there wantonly to entertaine it, allowing it for hir recreation, shame, reproch, agues, povertie, death, and tortures? If I presuppose, that perfect vertue is knowne by com­bating sorrow, and patiently vnder-going paine, by tollerating the fits and agonies of the gout, without stirring out of his place; if for a necessarie object, I appoint hir sharpnesse and difficultie; what shall become of that vertue, which hath attained so high a degree, as it doth not onely despise all maner of paine, but rather rejoyceth at-it, and when a strong fit of the collike shall assaile-it, to cause it selfe to be tickled; as that is, which the Epicurians have esta­blished, and whereof divers amongst them, have by their actions left most certaine proofes vnto-vs? As also others have, whom in effect I finde to have exceeded the verie rules of their discipline; witnesse Cato the yonger; when I see him die, tearing and mangling his en­trails; I cannot simply content my selfe to beleeve, that at that time, he had his soule wholy exempted from all trouble, or free from vexation: I cannot imagine, he did onely maintaine himselfe in this march or course, which the rules of the Stoike sect had ordained vnto him, setled, without some alteration or motion, and impassibilitie. There was, in my conceit, in this mans vertue overmuch cheerefulnesse, and youthfulnesse to stay there. I verily beleeve, he felt a kind of pleasure and sensualitie in so noble an action, and that therein he more pleased himselfe, then in any other, he ever performed in his life. Sic abijt è vita, vt causam moriendi Cic. Tuse. q [...]. lib. 1. nactum se esse gauderet. So departed he his life, that he reioyced to have found an occasion of death. I doe so constantly beleeve-it, that I make a doubt, whether he would have had the occasion of so noble an exploit taken from him. And if the goodnesse which induced him to embrace publike commodities more then his owne, did not bridle me, I should easily fall into this opi­nion, that he thought himselfe greatly beholding vnto fortune, to have put his vertue vnto so noble a triall, and to have favoured that robber, to tread the ancient libertie of his Coun­trie vnder foote. In which action me thinks I read a kinde of vnspeakable joy in his minde, and a motion of extraordinarie pleasure, joyned to a manlike voluptuousnesse, at what time it beheld the worthinesse, and considered the generositie and haughtinesse of his enterprise,

[Page 235]not vrged or set-on by any hope of glorie, as the popular and effeminate judgements have judged: For, that consideration is over base, to touch so generous, so haughtie, and so con­stant a heart; but for the beautie of the thing it selfe in it selfe, which he, who managed all the springs, and directed all the wards thereof, saw much more clearer, and in it's perfection, then we can doe. Philosophie hath done me a pleasure to judge, that so honorable an acti­on, had been vndecently placed in any other life, then in Catoes, and that onely vnto his it appertained to make such an end. Therefore did he with reason perswade both his sonne, and the Senators that accompanied him, to provide otherwise for themselves. Catoni quum incredibilem natura tribuisset gravitatem, eámque ipse perpetua constantia roboravisset, sem­pérque in proposito consilio permansisset: moriendum potius quàm tyranni vultus aspiciendus erat. Whereas nature had affoorded Cato an incredible gravitie, and he had strengthned it by continuall constancie, and ever had stood firme in his purposed desseignes, rather to die then behold the Tyrants face. Each death should be such as the life hath been. By dying we become no other then we were. I ever interpret a mans death by his life. And if a man shall tell me of any one vn­danted in apparance, joyned vnto a weake life; I imagine it to proceed of some weake cause, and sutable to his life. The ease therefore of his death, and the facilitie he had acquired by the vigor of his minde, shall we say, it ought to abate something of the lustre of his vertue? And which of those, that have their spirites touched, be it-never so little, with the true tincture of Philosophie, can content himselfe to imagine Socrates, onely, free from feare and passion, in the accident of his imprisonment, of his fetters, and of his condemnation? And who doth not perceive in him, not onely constancie and resolution (which were ever his ordinarie qualities) but also a kinde of I wot not what new contentment, and carelesse re­joycing in his last behaviour, and discourses? By the startling at the pleasure, which he feeleth in clawing of his legges, after his fetters were taken-off; doth he not manifestly declare an equall glee and joy in his soule, for being rid of his former incommodities, and entring into the knowledge of things to come? Cato shall pardon me (if he please) his death is more tra­gicall, and further extended, whereas this in a certaine manner is more faire and glorious. Aristippus answered those, that bewailed the same; when I die, I pray the Gods send me such a death. A man shall plainly perceive in the minds of these two men, and of such as imitate them (for I make a question whether ever they could be matched) so perfect an habitude vnto vertue, that it was even converted into their complexion. It is no longer a painfull vertue, nor by the ordinances of reason, for the maintaining of which, their minde must be strengthned: It is the verie essence of their soule; it is hir naturall and ordinarie habite. They have made it such, by a long exercise and observing the rules and precepts of Philo­sophie, having lighted vpon a fa [...]e and rich nature. Those vicious passions, which breed in vs, finde no entrance in them. The vigor and constancie of their soules, doth suppresse and extinguish all manner of concupisences, so soone as they but begin to move. Now that it be not more glorious, by an vndaunted and divine resolution, to hinder the growth of tempta­tions, & for a man to frame himselfe to vertue, so that the verie seeds of vice be cleane rooted out; then by maine force to hinder their progresse; and having suffred himselfe to be sur­prised by the first assaults of passions, to arme and bandie himselfe, to stay their course and to suppresse them: And that this second effect be not also much fairer, then to be simply stored with a facile and gentle nature, and of it selfe distasted and in dislike with licencious­nesse and vice, I am perswaded there is no doubt. For, this third and last manner, seemeth in some sort, to make a man innocent, but not vertuous: free from doing ill, but not sufficiently apt to doe well. Seeing this condition is so neere vnto imperfection and weaknesse, that I know not well how to cleare their confines and distinctions. The verie names of goodnesse and innocencie, are for this respect in some sort names of contempt. I see that many vertues, as chastitie, sobrietie, and temperance, may come vnto vs by meanes of corporall defects and imbecilitie. Constancie in dangers (if it may be termed constancie) contempt of death, patiencie in misfortunes, may happen, and are often seen in men, for want of good judge­ment in such accidents, and that they are not apprehended for such as they are indeed. Lacke of apprehension and stupiditie, doe sometimes counterfet vertuous effects. As I have often seen come to passe, that some men are commended, for things they rather deserve to be blamed. An Italian gentleman did once hold this position in my presence, to the prejudice & disad­vantage of his nation; That the subtiltie of the Italians, and the vivacitie of their concepti­ons [Page 236] was so great, that they foresaw such dangers and accidents as might betide them so far­off, that it was not to be deemed strange, if in times of warre, they were often seene to pro­vide for their safetie, yea, before they had perceived the danger: That we and the Spani­ards, who were not so warie and subtill, went further; and that before we could be frighted with any perill, we must be induced to see it with our eyes, and feel it with our hands, and that even then we had no more hold: But that the Germanes and Switzers, more shallow and leaden-headed, had scarce the sense and wit to re-advise themselves, at what time they were even overwhelmed with miserie, and the axe readie to fall on their heades. It was per­adventure but in jest, that he spake-it, yet is it most true, that in the arte of warre-fare, new trained Souldiers, and such as are but novices in the trade, doe often headlong, and hand over head cast themselves into dangers, with more inconsideration, then afterward when they have seene and endured the first shocke, and are better trained in the schoole of perils.

Lo heer the reason why when we judge of a particular action, we must first consider many circumstances, and throughly observe the man, that hath produced the same before we name and censure it. But to speake a word of my selfe: I have sometimes noted my friends to terme that wisedome in me, which was but meere fortune; and to deeme that advantage of courage and patience, that was advantage of judgement and opinion: and to attribute one title for another vnto me, sometimes to my profit, and now and then to my losse. As for the rest, I am so far from attaining vnto that chiefe and most perfect degree of excellen­cie, where a habitude is made of vertue, that even of the second, I have made no great triall. I have not greatly strived to bridle the desires, wherewith I have found my selfe vrged and pressed. My vertue, is a vertue, or to say better innocencie, accidentall and casuall. Had I been borne with a lesse regular complexion, I imagine my state had been verie pittyfull, and it would have gon hard with me: for, I could never perceive any great constancie in my soule, to resist and vndergoe passions, had they been any thing violent. I cannot foster quarels, or endure contentions in my house. So am I not greatly beholding vnto my selfe, in that I am exempted from many vices:

I am more endebted to my fortune, then to my reason for it: Shee hath made me to be borne of a race famous for integritie and honestie, and of a verie good father. I wot not well whether any part of his humors have descended into me, or whether the domestike exam­ples, and good institution of my infancie have insensibly set their helping hand vnto it; or whether I were otherwise so borne:

But so it is, that naturally of my selfe, I abhorre and detest all maner of vices. The an­swere of Antisthenes to one, that demanded of him, which was the best thing to be learned: To vnlearne evill, seemed to be fixed on this image, or to have an ayme at this. I abhorre them (I say) with so naturall, and so innated an opinion, that the very same instinct and impression, which I suckt from my nurse, I have so kept, that no occasions could ever make me alter [Page 237] the same: No, not mine owne discourses, which because they have been somewhat lavish in noting or taxing something of the common course, could easily induce me to some actions, which this my naturall inclination makes me to hate. I will tell you a wonder, I will tell it you indeed: I thereby find in many things, more stay and order in my maners, then in my opinion: and my concupiscence lesse debauched, then my reason. Aristippus established cer­taine opinions so bold, in favour of voluptuousnesse & riches, that he made all Philosophie to mutinie against him. But concerning his maners, Dionysius the tyrant, having presented him with three faire yong Wenches, that he might chuse the fairest; he answered he would chuse them all three, and that Paris had verie ill successe, forsomuch as he had preferred one above hir fellowes. But they being brought to his owne house, he sent them backe againe, without tasting them. His servant one day carrying store of money after him, and being so over-charged with the weight of it, that he complained, his Master commanded him, to cast so much thereof away, as troubled him. And Epicurus, whose positions are irreligious and delicate, demeaned himselfe in his life verie laboriously, and devoutly. He wrote to a friend of his, that he lived but with browne bread and water, and entreated him to send him a piece of cheefe, against the time he was to make a solemne feast. May it be true, that to be perfectly good, we must be so by an hidden, naturall, and vniversall proprietie, without law, reason, and example? The disorders and excesses, wherein I have found my selfe engaged, are not (God be thanked) of the worst. I have rejected and condemned them in my selfe, according to their worth; for, my judgement was never found to be infected by them. And on the other side, I accuse them more rigorously in my selfe, then in an other. But that is all: as for the rest, I applie but little resistance vnto them, and suffer my selfe over-easily to encline to the other side of the Ballance, except it be to order and empeach them from being commixt with others, which (if a man take not good heed vnto himselfe) for the most part entertaine and enterchaine themselves the one with the other. As for mine, I have as much as it hath laine in my power, abridged them, and kept them as single, and as alone as I could:

For, as touching the Stoickes opinion, who say, that when the wise man worketh, he worketh with all his vertues together; howbeit, according to the nature of the action, there be one more apparant than others (to which purpose the similitude of mans bodie might, in some sort, serve their turne; for, the action of choller cannot exercise it selfe, except all the humours set-to their helping-hand, although choller be praedominant) if thence they will draw alike consequence, that when the offender trespasseth, he doth it with all the vices together. I doe not so easily beleeve them, or else I vnderstand them not; for, in effect, I feel the contrarie. They are sharpe-wittie subtilties, and without substance, about which Philosophie doth often busie it selfe. Some vices I shun; but othersome I eschew as much as any Saint can doe. The Peripatetikes doe also disavow this connexitie, and indissolu­ble knitting together. And Aristotle is of opinion, That a wise and iust man may be both intemperate and incontinent. Socrates avowed vnto them, who in his Phisiognomie percei­ved some inclination vnto vice, that indeed it was his naturall propension, but that by dis­cipline he had corrected the same. And the familiar friends of the Philosopher Stilpo were wont to say, that being borne subject vnto wine and women, he had, by studie, brought him­selfe to abstaine from both. On the otherside, what good I have, I have it by the lot of my birth: I have it neither by law nor prescription, nor by any apprentiship. The innocencie that is in me, is a kinde of simple-plaine innocencie, without vigor or arte. Amongst all other vices, there is none I hate more, then crueltie, both by nature and judgement, as the extreamest of all vices. But it is with such an yearning and faint-hartednesse, that if I see but a chickins necke puld off, or a pigge stickt, I cannot chuse but grieve, and I cannot well endure a seelie dew-bedabled hare to groane, when she is seized vpon by the boundes; al­though hunting be a violent sport. Those that are to withstand voluptuousnesse, doe wil­lingly vse this argument, to shew, it is altogether vicious and vnreasonable: That where she is in her greatest prime and chiefe strength, she doth so over-sway vs, that reason can have no accesse vnto vs, and for a further triall, alleage the experience we feel and have [Page 238] of it, in our acquaintance or copulation with women.

Where they thinke pleasure doth so far transport vs beyond our selves, that our Discourse, then altogether overwhelmed, and our reason wholie ravished in the gulfe of sensualitie, can­not by any meanes discharge her function. I know it may be otherwise: And if a man but please, he may sometimes, even vpon the verie instant, cast his mind on other conceits. But she must be strained to a higher key, and heedfully pursued: I know a man may gourman­dize the earnest and thought-confounding violence of that pleasure: for I may with some experience speake of it; and I have not found Ʋenus to be so imperious a goddesse, as many, and more reformed than my selfe witnesse her to be, I thinke it not a woonder, as doth the Queene of Navarre, in one of the Tales of her Heptameron (which respecting the subject it treateth-of, is a verie prettie booke) nor doe I deeme it a matter of extreame difficultie, for a man to weare-out a whole night, in all opportunitie and libertie, in companie of a faire Mistresse, long time before sued-vnto, and by him desired; religiously keeping his word, if he have engaged himselfe, to be contented with simple kisses and plaine touching. I am of opinion, that the example of the sport in hunting would more fit the same: wherein as there is lesse pleasure, so there is more distraction and surprising, whereby our reason be­ing amazed, looseth the leasure to prepare her selfe against it: when as after a long questing and beating for some game, the beast doth suddainly start, or rowze vp before vs, and hap­pily in such a place, where we least expected the same. That suddaine motion, and riding, and the earnestnesse of showting, jubeting and hallowing, still ringing in our eares, would make it verie hard for those, who love that kind of close or chamber-hunting, at that verie instant, to withdraw their thoughts else-where. And Poets make Diana victoriously to triumph both over the firebrand and arrowes of Cupid.

But to returne to my former discourse, I have a verie feeling and tender compassion of other mens afflictions, and should more easily weep for companie sake, if possiblie for any occasion whatsoever, I could shed teares. There is nothing sooner mooveth teares in me, then to see others weepe, not onely fainedly, but howsoever, whether truely or forcedly. I do not greatly waile for the dead, but rather envie them. Yet doe I much waile and moane the dying. The Canibales and savage people do not so much offend me with roasting and ea­ting of dead bodies, as those, which torment and persecute the living. Let any man be execu­ted by law, how deservedly soever, I cannot endure to behold the execution with an vnrelen­ting eye. Some one going about to witnesse the clemencie of Iulius Caesar; He was (saith he) tractable & milde in matters of revenge. Having compelled the Pirates to yeeld themselves vnto him, who had before taken him prisoner, and put him to ransome, forasmuch as he had threatned to have them all crucified, he condemned them to that kind of death, but it was after he had caused them to be strangled. Philomon his secretarie, who would have poyso­ned him, had no sharper punishment of him, then an ordinarie death. Without mencioning the Latin Author, who for a testimonie of clemencie dareth to alleage, the onely killing of those, by whom a man hath been offended, it may easily be ghessed, that he is tainted with vile and horrible examples of crueltie, such as Romane Tyrants brought into fashion. As for me, even in matters of justice, Whatsoever is beyond a simple death, I deeme it to be meere crueltie: And especially amongst vs, who ought to have a regardfull respect, that their soules should be sent to heaven, which cannot be, having first by intollerable tortures agitated, and as it were brought them to dispaire. A Souldier, not long since, being a prisoner, and percei­ving from a loft a Tower, where he was kept, that store of people flocked together on a greene, and Carpenters were busie at worke to erect a skaffold, supposing the same to be for him, as one desperat, resolved to kill himselfe, and searching vp and downe for some thing to make himselfe away, found nothing but an old rustie cart-naile, which fortune presen­ted [Page 239] him with; he tooke it, and therewithall, with all the strength he had, strooke and woun­ded himselfe twice in the throat, but seeing it would not rid him of life, he then thrust it into his bellie vp to the head, where he left it fast-sticking. Shortly after, one of his keepers com­ming-in vnto him, and yet living, finding him in that miserable plight, but weltring in his goare-blood, and readie to gaspe his last, told the Magistrates of it, which, to prevent time before he should die, hastned to pronounce sentence against him: which when he heard, and that he was onely condemned to have his head cut-off, he seemed to take heart of grace againe, and to be sorie for what he had done, and tooke some comfortable drinks, which before he had refused, greatly thanking the Iudges for his vnhoped gentle condemnation: And told them, that for feare of a more sharply-cruell, and intollerable death by law, he had resolved to prevent-it by some violent manner of death, having by the preparations he had seen the Carpenters make, and by gathering of people together, conceived an opinion, that they would torture him with some horrible torment, and seemed to be delivered from death, onely by the change of it. Were I worthie to give counsell, I would have these exam­ples of rigor, by which superior powers goe about to keep the common people in awe, to be onely exercised on the bodies of criminall malefactors: For, to see them deprived of chri­stian buriall, to see them haled, disbowelled, parboyled, and quartered, might happly touch the common sort as much, as the paines, they make the living to endure: howbeit in effect it be little or nothing, as saith God, Qui corpus occidunt, & postea non habent quod faciant. Luke 12. 4. Those that kill the bodie, but have afterwards no more to doe: And Poets make the horror of this picture greatly to prevaile, yea, and above death, Ci [...]. Tusc. qu. lib. 1.

It was my fortune to be at Rome, vpon a day that one Catena, a notorious high-way theese, was executed: at his strangling no man of the companie seemed to be mooved to any ruth; but when he came to be quartered, the Executioner gave no blow that was not accompa­nied with a pitteous voyce, and hartie exclamation, as if every man had had a feeling sym­pathie, or lent his senses to the poore mangled wretch. Such inhumane outrages and bar­barous excesses should be exercised against the rinde, and not practised against the quicke. In a case somewhat like vnto this, did Artaxerces asswage and mittigate the sharpnesse of the ancient lawes of Persia, appointing that the Lords, which had trespassed in their estate, whereas they were wont to be whipped, they should be stripped naked, and their clothes whipped for them: and where they were accustomed to have their haire pulled-off, they should onely have their hat taken off. The Aegyptians so devout and religious, thought they did sufficiently satisfie divine Iustice, in sacrificing painted and counterfait hogges vnto it: An over-hardy invention, to go about with pictures & shadowes to appease God, a substance so essentiall and divine. I live in an age, wherein we abound with incredible ex­amples of this vice, through the licentiousnesse of our civill and intestine warres: And read all ancient stories, be they never so tragicall, you shall find none to equall those, we daily see practised. But that hath nothing made me acquainted with it. I could hardly be per­swaded, before I had seene it, that the world could have afforded so marble-hearted and savage-minded men, that for the onely pleasure of murther would commit-it; then cut, mangle, and hacke other members in pieces: to rouze and sharpen their wits, to in­vent vnused tortures and vnheard-of torments; to devise new and vnknowne deathes, and that in cold blood, without any former enmitie or quarrell, or without any gaine or pro­fite; and onely to this end, that they may enjoy the pleasing spectacle of the languishing gestures, pittifull motions, horror-moving yellings, deep▪fetcht groanes, and lamenta­ble voyces of a dying and drooping man. For, that is the extreamest point whereunto the crueltie of man may attaine. Ʋt homo hominem, non iratus, non timens, tantum spectatu­rus Sen. cl [...]. lib. [...]. c. 4. occidat. That one man should kill another, neither being angrie, nor afeard, but onely to looke on. As for me, I could never so much as endure, without remorse and griefe, to see a poore, sillie, and innocent beast pursued and killed, which is harmelesse and voide of de­fence, and of whom we receive no offence at all. And as it commonly hapneth, that when the Stag begins to be embost, and finds his strength to faile-him, having no other remedie [Page 240] left him, doth yeeld and bequeath himselfe vnto vs that pursue him, with teares suing to vs for mercie.

was ever a grievous spectacle vnto me. I seldom take any beast alive, but I give him his liber­tie. Pythagoras was wont to buy fishes of fishers, and birds of fowlers to set them free againe.

Such as by nature shew themselves bloodie-minded towards harmlesse beasts, witnesse a naturall propension vnto crueltie. After the ancient Romanes had once enured themselves without horror to behold the slaughter of wilde beasts in their shewes, they came to the murther of men and Gladiators. Nature (I feare me) hath of hir owne selfe added vnto man a certaine instinct to humanitie. No man taketh delight to see wilde beasts sport and wantonly to make much one of another: Yet all are pleased to see them tugge, mangle, and enterteare one an other. And least any bodie should jeast at this simphathie, which I have with them. Divinitie it selfe willeth vs to shew them some favour: And considering, that one selfe-same master (I meane that incomprehensible worlds-framer) hath placed all creatures in this his woondrous pallace for his service, and that they, as well as we, are of his houshold: I say, it hath some reason to injoyne vs, to shew some respect and affection towards them. Pythagoras borrowed Metempsychosis of the Aegyptians, but since, it hath been received of divers Nations, and especially of our Druides:

The Religion of our ancient Gaules, inferred, that soules being eternall, ceased not to remove and change place, from one bodie to another: to which fantasie was also entermixed some consideration of divine justice. For, according to the soules behaviors, during the time she had been with Alexander, they said, that God appointed-it another bodie to dwell-in, either more or lesse painfull, and sutable to hir condition.