Fennes Frutes: VVHICH VVORKE IS deuided into three se­uerall parts; The first, A Dialogue betweene Fame and the Scholler, no lesse pleasant than pithie: wherein is decyphered the propertie of Temperance, the mutablitie of Ho­nor, the inconstancie of Fortune, the vncertaintie of Life, and the reward of aspiring mindes: prooued both by the examples of sundrie Princes, and say­ings of worthy Philosophers.

The second, intreateth of the lamentable ru­ines which attend on Warre: also, what politique Stratagemes haue been vsed in times past: neces­sarie for these our dangerous daies.

The third, that it is not requisite to deriue our pe­degree from the vnfaithfull Troians, who were chiefe causes of their owne destruction: whereunto is added Hecubaes mishaps, discoursed by way of apparition.

Qui nuclium esse vult, nucem frangat, oportet.

Imprinted at London for Richard Oliffe: and are to be solde at his shop in Paules Churchyard, at the signe of the Crane. 1590.

To the Worshipfull Robert Spen­cer Esquire, Sonne and heire to the Right Worshipfull Sir Iohn Spencer Knight: Thomas Fenne wisheth increase of Worship, with the preseruation of desired health, &c.

THE Persians in time past, and also, by credible report at this day (right Worshipfull) at vacant and idle times, when they are not busied in the affaires of their commō wealth, nor troubled in their owne priuat matters, vse commonly to whittle small twigs of birch, to keepe them selues from vaine imaginations and idle cogitations, but nothing either profitable to the weale publique, or to their priuat persons. In like manner, Domiti­anus an Emperor of Rome, was wont to busie himselfe with pricking and thrusting flyes through with needles, in his window: so that this reproachful prouerb sprang vp of his so vaine spending the time: for when any of his subiects de­manded who was in the Emperors presence (if he then were not about his foolish labor) his seruants would answere, ne musca quidem, not so much as a flye: which commonly was spoken after a reproachful sense. Therefore Sir, for the auoy­ding of such vnprofitable labors, and also for the shunning of blameable idlenesse, in spending my time about such fruiteles toyes, and friuelous toyles, I trust I haue after a bet­ter sort imployed my vacant times, not in whitling or sha­uing of sticks, nor in killing of flyes, neither as Myrmecidas Milesius, or Callicrates Lacedemonius did, who spent and consumed a great time in making a small waggon, to bee drawne with two couples of horses, which might easilie bee [Page] hidden vnder the compasse of a slye, and wrote in a little small bery, no bigger than a beane, a posie of two verses in letters of golde: which fruiteles toyle (although it was fini­shed with diligent care, and cunning hand) was wonderful­ly scoffed and derided at amongst the wiser sort of men, for wasting the time so vainely about such toyes, as neither profited themselues, nor was any commoditie at all to the common wealth. It is further reported (right worshipful) that Satyrus, a certaine bagpiper, being present at the Phi­losopher Aristos disputations, finding what sweete me­thod, and pithie sentences, were included in his learned say­ings, sayed:

Cur ego non ignitrado, hoc mihi inutile telum?
Why doo not I vile hairebraine foole,
Commit to fire this fruitles toole?

In like sort my selfe conferring with my books, at conuenient leasure, finding what proffit is reaped there­by, and taking pleasure in the sweet harmonie and pleasant melody of the wise sayings of the learned Philosophers, am constrained with Satyrus to lay a side and cast of all vaine toyes, and superfluous toyles, vntill my minde be sufficient­ly satisfied with their learned conference. But for that con­uenient leasure, and vacant times alwaies at will are not commonly incident to my coate (as your Worship right well knoweth:) wherefore I am forced to write, as the Ae­giptian dogs doo lap their water: the curs of that countrey by a naturall inclination, doo knowe, that in Nilus, and in other Riuers and floods of Aegypt, certaine venymous beasts, and stinging Serpents doo lye closely hid vnder the water, waighting for their praye, and therefore they to shun that perrill doo run a long the shores and bankes of the streames, and lap their water (as the olde saying is) by sniches, & catches, as they may without danger come by it. So my self being compelled to take such vncertaine leasure, as conueniently I may: wherein I haue by fits, penned this my slender worke, hoping that your Worship will bee to [Page] the booke, as Achilles shield was to Vlisses, or as Hercules club was to the Daughter of King Euritus: Vlisses thought himselfe safe vnder the shield of noble Achilles, which he knew (for the Masters sake) would terrifie the beholder, Iole the Daughter of Euritus did make the knees of mightie men to stoupe, by holding in her hand the weapon of the most renowmed Conqueror Hercules. So I crauing your Worships patronage; whose noble nature, vertuous go­uernement, and learned experience, I knowe to bee of sufficient force, to shield and couer this my homelie and rude stile, from the hatefull hand of all repiners, from whose mouth it is as hard a thing to get a good word, as to wrest perforce the club out of Hercules handes: and would willingly that a man should reape for his paine­full labour the thankelesse crop of Cholchos soile, which is to the wearie tiller present destruction. It may be that your Worship doth rather expect at my hand a badge or token of my profession, coming so lately from the Hawks perch, than to treat of matters too high for my learning and skill: Notwithstanding, when I call to minde your wonted cour­tesies and accustomable affabilitie, I imbolden my selfe to sollicite your Worship with this my slender muse, hoping that you will with Artaxerxes, receiue the good will of the simple meaner; not expecting cloquence so aboundantly to flowe from the Hawkes perch, as from Aristotles Schoole. But if I may perceiue that this my diligent paine is recom­penced with friendly acceptance, I shal rest right happy and well contented, and my Booke shall thinkest selfe as safely shrowded and defended vnder your fauourable protection, as vnder the patronage of a farre higher State: for that both your Worships vertue, good gouernement, learned dis­position and courteous behauiour, is sufficiently knowne in this our Countrey, amongest your louing neighbours, where your countenance will make the simple worke to ca­rie more credite, than of it selfe it deserueth, thorough the good affection that our Countrie-men doo beare to your name.

[Page]Thus beeing forced to leaue off from further touching your worthie merit, least that you should blame my pen, for ouer much flattering, which thing (I know) you hartely de­test, and also fearing that I haue too boldly presumed in crauing your assistance, leauing at the length to abuse your patience, with ouermuch tediousnesse, I end: wishing in­crease of worship, and whatsoeuer, (in this world) your heart can wish or desire, to fall vpon you.

Yours in all, to command, Thomas Fenne.
R Regard not riches if they rise, but for to serue thy need;
remember what was Craesus fall, and how the wretch did speed.
O On Catos words consider well, then rich, when once content:
of Crates thinke, who sure was rich, when all his wealth was spent.
B Beare Titus mind that Roman peere whose noble heart did bend
before the sunne went downe each day, to purchase him a friend,
E Ere angry moode doo make the strike, first play vpon thy lute:
each day Achilles would doo so, and Clinius on the Flute,
R Reuenge not vnaduisedly, call Phocion first to mind:
rather take thou wrong with him, than shew thy selfe vnkinde.
T To wise Themistocles giue eare, that loude his Countrey well:
true subiects liude (as oft we read) when wretched traitors fell.
V Vse not by feare to awe each man, least thou repent too late:
vrge none (saith Tully) by such meanes, for feare procureth hate.
S See that thy Countrimen haue right, the poore man doo not fleece:
so maist thou haue in this our soyle, as Solon had in Greece.
S Shun Caesars pride, beware of that for he himselfe was slaine:
such haps doo greete aspiring mindes, when worlds they thinke to gain.
P Pompey could abide no mate, nor Caesar anie peere:
pride brought them to vntimely death, their state was bought so deere.
E Endeuour to digest abuse, on wise Pericles thinke:
else follow sage Zenocrites, at iniuries to winke.
N Nestor liude with great renowme, in Pilos well esteemd:
now lead a life that thou in fine, a second he, be deemd.
C Call to thy minde King Darius, that vsed oft remorce:
could Nero liue, when he began to rule in Rome perforce.
E Earst Hiero of Siracusa, for learning still would striue:
erre not but spend some time therein, whilest heere thou art aliue.
R Read what wise Seneca doth say, of Cicero goe learne:
run not with vnaduised hast, and thou shalt right discerne.

To the Reader.

RIght curteous, gentle, and learned Reader, as dutie bindeth mee, I am determined to inuite thee to a base and simple banquet: for knowing that thou art dayly inuited & bidden to manie more curious and daintie dishes, that thy appetite is sufficed with all kinde of delicates: therefore, in mine opi­nion, by staying thee from thy delicious meates, by inuiting thee to more homelie fare, thy stomacke may be the more whet­ted & sharpned to take thy repast of those dainties, when occasion serueth. It may be, that when thou shalt perceiue my principall and chiefest Guest, for whom this banquet was first proui­ded, (whose mouth is daylie vsed to the sweetest delicates, and whose tongue is of sufficient iudgement to make a difference betwixt the sower taste of vnpleasant cates, and the sweete relish and sauer of well seasoned meates:) for manner sake to commend the dishes, and gratefully accept the good will of the inuiter: that then thou wilt accordingly take in good part and well like of such homely cheere, as the willing bidder hath pro­uided for thee. But if it should so fall out, that thy mouth being so often accustomed with the sweete taste and relish of daintie fare, that thy sto­macke can hardly digest the homelines of my reare supper: yet I assure thee, that the cates themselues be as daintie & neweltie as the best, thogh not so well dressed by the vnskilfulnesse of the Cooke. Therefore I be­seech thee to vse the part of a friendly guest, in taking it in good woorth and reporting the best: and further I request thee, if thou findest fault or mislikest anie dish, being not well dressed, rather to winke priuelie at the Cooke, than openly to discredit his workmanship Perhaps, it may be fur­ther obiected to the discredit of the workman, saying, It was great pitie that such daintie delicates hapned to be bought of so simple a cater, to ca­rie to so homely a cooke, to be dressed in so smokie a kitchin: wherby the dishes haue not their right, and their taste and relish spoyled, by reason of the basenesse of the roome. To which obiection, with reason I thus may reply: that the vnskilfull cooke may sometime take in hand to dresse the daintiest dish, as well as the cunning and finest workman to learne expe­rience: for he that ventreth not the marring or making, shal neuer attain to good workmanship. Thus (gentle Reader) hauing inuited thee to this base banquet, play thou not like the dogge in a manger, that will eate [Page] no hay, nor suffer those that would: wherefore I pray thee either fall too thy selfe, or giue others leaue to satisfie their hunger, whose stomackes are sufficiently prepared to feed. I would not haue it thought, that I tho­rough a vainglorious minde, goe about to edifie and instruct the learned, whose ripe iudgements, wise conceipts, and learned experience, is of suffi­cient force to teach better Schollers than my selfe, for then should I goe about, arenas in littus fundere: but for that I right well know, there are diuers, whose learning is not of that profunditie, but they may take both pleasure and profite, by reading this homely worke. Is it not reported, that Aeneas comming to Carthage (there viewing and perusing the destructi­on of Troy, being painted on the wall of Didoes pallaice) with his faith­full companion Achates, to haue more imaginations and thoughts in his minde concerning the effect and substaunce, than the wall by painting could signifie, yet notwithstanding the picture first caused those thoghts (by representing the matter) to reuolue in his experienced minde: so that the setting downe of a part, causeth the wise to conceiue the whole: and by penning a briefe, the learned coniectureth a volume. Therefore (curte­ous Reader) I am content to appeale to thy learned iudgement: for Ap­pelles setting foorth his picture to heare each mans opinion in his worke begun, was verie wel content, when the shoomaker found fault with the shooe, and the taylor with the hose: knowing these men to be artificers in the Science which they had reprehended, did willingly reforme his errour. But when the vnskilfull intruded themselues to the iudgement of the legges, armes, and other parts of the bodie: then he drewe in his pic­ture, knowing that hee should neuer please and satisfie the humour and fancie of all men. Thus, Fare thee well.

Thy friend in what I may. T. F.

Fennes fruites.

A Dialogue betwene Fame and the Scholer, no lesse plea­sant, than profitable: wherein the bad behauiours, and lewd demeanours of man, is rightly discyphe­red.
Scholer.

SIR you are well met, I reioyce greatly that my good fortune is such to méete with you so happily; of whome I haue so often heard, but neuer as yet coulde méete vntill this time to vse conference with all.

Fame.

It is great maruaile, that you could neuer finde me out before this time, traueling in all Coastes and King­domes as I doo; hearing also all Nations of the earth report of me, so that the vttermost borders of the world hath had my presence: therefore truely hard was your hap in deede, not to speake with me before this time.

Scho.

True it is in déede, but the messengers of vncer­taintie did daylie so flout and mock me, that I despaired whe­ther euer I should speake with your person or no; so many of your abusers did represent your presence: but now hoping to bee certified with the true reports of your owne mouth, of those things and doubtes wherein you haue béen so often a­bused. For it is crediblie reported, that you are the greatest traueller in the world, and haue séene all Kingdomes and na­tions of the earth, by your vnspeakeable swiftnes; the vtter­most Iles in the maine Ocean hath had your presence: the [Page] mightiest Kings and Princes of the earth, can neither stop or hinder your appointed trauaile; you passe their priuie cham­bers, and know their secret counsailes; your eyes haue séene the vncertaintie of time, the mutabilitie of honor, the vncon­stancie of fortune, the instabilitie & varietie of the life of man, the subuersion of kingdomes, the ouerthrow of empires, the ruine and destruction of stately townes and cities: your eyes hath séene, your eares hath heard, & your vnderstanding doth remember from the creation of the world, and shall remaine vsque ad consummationem seculi: therefore, séeing your tra­uaile so wonderfull, your cōtinuance so ancient, and your me­morie so notable, I shall request you to vnfolde & relate part of those things, which your selfe are a witnesse of, and haue with present eies beheld, as, the nature of things, the conditi­on of people, with the inconueniences of this transitorie life, and what calamities, miseries, troubles, enormities and vex­ations, doth commonly happen, and incidently fall to man.

Fa.

My good friend, if the speaches of my mouth may chalenge such credite with you, I am content to make you partaker of my great trauaile, and what I know concerning the state of the world; on this condition, that your mind shall detaine, carie away, and perceiue, with more liuelines of sense the effect of my words, thā my tōgue by vttring can expresse: so with your willing audience I shall bee content to resolue you in anie part wherein you shall demaund.

Scho.

Sir, I most hartely thanke you, the condition shall be obserued & kept to the vttermost of my power, mine eares shal also be attendant in silent sort, to uote your speaches wel, therefore I pray you begin while I am armed with audience.

Fa.

Well then my good friend, it is requisit that I first be­gin with the enormities and inconueniences of the life & state of man, which he falleth oft into, by the defalt of temperance; without which gift he runneth headlong to his owne ruine & destruction: for Seneca saith,Seneca. If thou wilt esteeme and iudge truly what man is, then set him naked before thee, & behold him well, setting aside, and laying a part from him possessi­ons, authoritie, and all other giftes subiect to fortune, then shall you see what he hath proper of himselfe, and what he [Page 2] borroweth of other, then shall you well perceiue, this naked life of man; without which gift it cannot well be preserued or gouerned, but of necessitie must needes soone perish and decay.

Scho.

Sir, then by your leaue, is temperance such a spe­ciall necessary to the life of man.

Fa.

Yea truely, for on that, hangeth and dependeth all o­ther vertues requisite to the state and life of man: it is the good ground of al gouernement, a right direction to honest liuing, and the true nurse and fosterer of prouident wisedom, it keepeth the vnsatiable appetites of ambition vnder the yoke of reason, and holdeth downe the immoderate desires of superioritie: to be short, I referre thée to the definition of Cicero, Cicero. who defineth it on this maner, The property of tem­perance, saith he, is, to couet nothing that afterward may be repented, so that thorough the want thereof, man falleth into infinite miseries.

Scho.

Well sir, then I perceiue, that this gift is a most necessary and speciall maxime, to the life and gouernement of man, wherein I trust to be better instructed heereafter, by some familiar examples, which doth shew the fall and destru­ction in the wanters thereof, and the quiet state and content­ment to the possessors of the same.

Fa.

Friend, I will rehearse a very briefe example in the meane time, for your better vnderstanding, which shall shew a differēce betwixt the vnsatiable appetite of aspiring minds, and the quiet state and peaceable contentment: which is tho­rowly to be perceiued, in the life of Aleaxnder the Great, and Diogenes the philosopher.

Scho.

First sir, crauing pardon for interrupting your speeches, me think this comparison is very vnfit, & vnseeme­ly, and the difference of vertue and vice will hardly be made manifest by the liues of these two, the one being a great Prince and Emperour of many stately countries and king­doms, the other a poore seely beggar, who liued by the almes of the people, hauing for his house a simple tunne or barrell to harbour himselfe in, without any other wealth or substaunce at all.

Fa.
[Page]

Nay then, my good friend, you will driue mee from the matter, and cause me to make digression for argument sake; but before I proceede any further, it shall not be amisse to manifest the state of these two, and descry your errour; A­lexander indeede was a great Prince, and Emperour of the most part of the world, and yet not so rich as Diogenes was: for whereas you think the comparison altogether vnfit, the one being a beggar and wonderfull poore, the other a king, and inestimable rich, therefore I referre thee to the wise say­ing of Marcus Cato, Cato. who saieth, Qui contentus est sua sorte, Diues est, He that is content with his owne estate and cal­ling, is sufficient rich: We find that Diogenes was content with his poore estate, and Alexander not satisfied with al his kingdomes; wherefore, according vnto the opinion of Cato Diogenes was rich, and Alexander poore: for truely he can not be rich which is not satisfied, neither can he be poore that is contented. And further, to confirme this argument, Man­danus a wise philosopher of India, to whom this Alexander sent messengers,In vita Phi­losopho. commanding him to come to the feast of Iu­piters sonne, which was holden at Babilon, (meaning him­selfe to be the sonne of Ioue) declaring further, That if hee would come, he should haue great rewards and riches giuen him, but if he refused, and would not obey his commande­ment, he should be put to a most cruell death: wherevnto the graue Philosopher answered stoutly, saying, That Alex­ander was neither the sonne of God, nor yet certaine lord of any part or parcel of the earth, but was as mortall as himself, & as for the gifts & rewards of him that was himselfe so vn­satiable couetous, hee nothing regarded, returning this an­swere, That if it wold please him to receiue & accept a gift at his hād, he would willingly giue it, & might very conue­niently spare it, which was, his good counsel, that he should holde himselfe content and satisfied with sufficient, and to co­uet no more than were necessary, saying, That his abilitie was better able to giue than Alexanders: for (saith he) hee woulde giue mee that which himselfe wanteth, whereof I haue sufficient, but I will send him that which hee lacketh, and I my selfe haue abundantly: and as for threats and me­naces, [Page 3] I nothing at al regard; for if I liue (saith he) my coun­trie will bring foorth things sufficiently, to furnish my life withall, so that I shall not need his rewards; as for death I do nothing feare, but exceedingly desire it, which shall deliuer me from my old withered carkas. Thus you may perceiue, that this wise philosopher accounted them poore which were not satisfied, and those rich which were contented.

Scho.

Sir, I doo verie well perceiue my error, and doo ac­knowledge it; for it standeth with good reason, that the riches of this world is contentment, and that a coueting and discon­tented minde is extreame pouertie: therefore if it please you to procéed forward according to your pretence, I shall accord­ing to my promise be attentiue.

Fa.

Well séeing you are satisfied heerein, I will proceede further; The Philosopher Diogenes (as I said before) per­ceiuing the vnconstancie of vnfriendly fortune,Elianus in lib. 6. the mutability of honour, with the vncertaintie of life; so much contemned & despised the vaine preferments and promotions of this tran­sitorie life, that he liued content and satisfied with a small por­tion of possession, which was but his bare tub or tun, wherein he was Lord and King without controlment, crauing neither territories or confines to inlarge this his quiet kingdom, fin­ding this his poore patrimonie so voyd of all incumbraunces, vexations, and inuasions, that he contented himself with this life vntill his end; turning his tub in the summer toward the North (for the coolenesse and shade) from the Sunne; in win­ter to the South for the heate and warmnes thereof: making his vaunt merelie that he could rule his Lordship and posses­sion as he listed from the inuasions of his enimies, which was the sharpe & bitter windes, by turning his tumbling pallaice. Thus liuing in contentment, it chanced that Alexander the great king of Macedony, hearing the rare fame of this Phi­losopher, thought good to visit Diognes in his tub, to heare his wisedome and the cause of his so solitarie liuing, came vn­to him being set in his tun, saying; My friend I haue long desired to see thee, and to inrich thee being so a poore a phi­losopher: therefore aske of mee what goods or liuing thou needest, and I will inrich thee with it to thy great content­ment. [Page] To whom, when Diogenes had giuen thankes for his great courtesie offered: he saide, If thou wilt doo mee this fauour as thou saist, Laertius in lib. 7. then I pray thee take not that from me which thou canst not giue me; but stand from before the mouth of my tun, that I may haue the light and warmnes of the Sunne, which is to me great riches; for now thou detai­nest that from me and canst not giue me the like: therefore do me but this fauour, and I will craue of thee no other sub­stāce. Then said Alexander, My friend, how much possessi­on, lands, and reuenues woulde satisfie and content thee, if now I should giue thee thyful contentment: to whom Dio­genes answered, Euen as much, Alexander, as thou must be thy selfe contented with all in the end: But at the first he misconstrued the meaning of Diogenes, and thought him wonderfull couetous, knowing, that he himselfe had nowe most part of the world in possession, and dayly striued to get the whole, therefore he thought it an vnsatiable appetite of him not to be contented with lesse: but after consideration on the cause, he perceiued that Diogenes meant his length of ground to be sufficient patrimony for himselfe, which in the end the greatest king of the earth must be contented withall: then said Alexander to him againe, My good friend, what thing best contenteth thee in this world? to whom Diogenes replied, saying, That thing, sir King, which thou art most discontented withall in the worlde, which is a satisfied and contented mind, to couet for no more than sufficeth, which in thee, saieth he, I finde contrary. Alexander was nothing at all offended at the reprehension of the wise Philosopher, but rather smelling his owne follie said at that time, Truely, if I wer not Alexander I would be Diogenes. But we see that he was Alexāder, therefore he could not be Diogenes; he was couetous, therefore he could not be contented, wherefore it appeareth that Diogenes had the gift of temperance not to co­uet his owne destruction as Alexander did, but being rich in contentment despised fortune, for that her force coulde not molest or touch him, reiecting honour, because of the mu­tablitie and varietie of the same, regarding not life for the vn­certaintie of it, but liued as a man contented fearing no cala­mitie [Page 4] nor aduersitie whatsoeuer might happē to him, but was readie with patience to digest it.

Sch.

Truly, it doth appeare most plaine, that this man had the gift of temperance sufficiently, and that he was nothing subiect to the wauering wheele of fortune, neither passing of her smooth countenance, nor louring looke, liuing a stranger to her, whereby he kept himself free from her force, notwithstan­ding I would faine know if the end and death of him were as worthie as his life: for No man is called happie before his end, which being answerable, I must needs confesse the man deserued merit.

Fa.

Indeed you say true, it is good in our conference, or­derly to proceede, for the life of man cannot be so cleare, but that it may be much dimmed and dusked by an ill ende, ma­king digression from the former life: but truely Diogenes continued a sound Philosopher vntill his end,Diogenes. Lacitius lib. 2. & at his death, it is said, that he lying grieuously sicke, perceiuing it a thing vnpossible for him to recouer his former health, by feeling his aged body so much weakened, and hauing in this great extremitie of sicknesse smal friends to comfort or relieue him, threw himselfe downe tumbling from the top of a bridge, a­butting néere to the common place of excercises, and com­manded the kéeper or ouer-séer of the bridge; that when life failed and breath was quite departed, hee should cast his car­kasse into the riuer Ilissus. Adeò pro nihilo duxit mortem & sepulturam Diogenes. So little regarded Diogenes the inua­sion of death, or the tranquilitie and quietnesse of his bodie in the graue. But I say not that this end was commendable in a Christian, for he was long before the incarnation of Christ being an heathen man: notwithstanding indued with won­derfull wisdome. Againe, some report of his death after this sort; saying, he died when he was 90. yeares olde: and being at the poynt of death willed his bodie to bee left vnburied; saying, That he would not be troublesome to his friends to digge and delue for him, who had no pleasure in their paine; vnlesse they would doo it to auoide the smell and stincking sauor, whereby he were likely to annoy them: but when his friends asked him whether he would lie aboue the ground, to [Page] be deuoured of birds and beastes; No friends (saith hee) but lay you by me a little staffe that I may feare and keepe them away: therein deriding their foolish curiosity, that séemed to be so carefull to burie the dead carkasse, as though there had béen great difference whether it had been deuoured of birdes and beastes in the field, or eaten and consumed of wormes in the ground; & so rebuking their folly he died. The wise Phi­losophers so little regarded their dead carcasses; knowing by their natural wisdome what the substance thereof was, mak­ing also no account or reckoning of life, whose state was so fraile and fickle: the learned Horace, Horace. going about to quip and reprehend the fearefull minds of those that so much fea­red death said; Pallida mors aequo pulsat pede pauperum taber­nas, regúm (que) turries: that pale death did as wel visit the rich, as the poore: therfore (saith he) it is a foolish thing so much to feare that, which no man knoweth when it shall happen; neither can it be auoyded or shunned by any praiers or gifts, nor by the force or strength of man repelled or driuen back. Whereunto also Homer replieth,Homer de morte. saying, Nec vis Herculea fatum enitauit acerbum: neither could Hercules strength re­sist or withstand death. The wise Socrates when hée was to suffer punishment, namely losse of life; Apollodorus his fami­liar friend comming to the prison where hee was laide vp,Elianus li­ber 5. brought vnto him a verie fine coate of costlie wooll, well wo­uen and wrought; and therewithall a cloake of no courser stuffe; desiring him to put them on, and to weare them when he drunke the poyson that should procure his death: For (saith he) Socrates cannot want a rich and honorable buriall, if hee being attired with those gorgeous garments yeeld vp the sweete pledge of his life: nor that he should lye dead, alto­gether vndecently being decked with such beautifull and comely furniture. These words vttered Apollodorus to Socrates, but he not allowing thereof: said to Crito, Simmi­as, and Phoedon; O what a notable opinion dooth Apollo­dorus conceiue of vs, if he hope to see Socrates in such braue­rie, after he hath drunke vp the poysoned potion ministred to him by the hands of the Athenians: but if he did consider and beleeue that shortly after I should droupe downe, [Page 5] grouel on the ground, and at last lye like a lumpe of lead vnder feete: he would not vouchsafe to knowe me. Not long before the time of his death, also he being at libertie was verie sick and féeble in bodie; so that his friends asked him how it fared with him; verie well (said he) how so euer the world shall wag, for if I haue my life prolonged I shall in­crease mine enimies to baite me with rebukes: againe if death shorten my dayes, I shall winne more friendes to crowne me with commendation. In vita Pla­tonis. In like manner Plato at what time the Academy was reported to be infected with the pestilence, the Phisicians gaue him counsaile to remoue his schoole from the Academy, into Lyceus, but hee neuer a whit agréed to their counsaile: but saide, Sed ego producendae vitae causa, ne in Atho quidem summitatem transmigare velim, I would not remoue to the high tops of the maine moun­taine Athos, for the prolonging of my daies, and the pre­seruing of my mortall life: so little also, feared or regarded that wise Philosopher, the fatall end.

Sch.

Truly ye philosophers in this point, do shew thēselues the folowers of wisedome indeede, for by birth they perceiue themselues to be mortall, therefore make they no great ac­count of their vncertaine life, but truely I coulde wish, that there were many Philosophers now liuing amongest vs, to instruct vs thorowly by their great wisedome, whereby wee might as well learne to die as to liue.

Fa.

Surely, in mine opinion, it were in vaine, for the na­ture of man is rather to credite and followe the precepts and doctrine of those that are dead, than to giue audience, or be instructed at the mouth of the wise who liueth; for Dioge­nes himselfe in his life was forsaken of al his friends, because he vsed to reprehend them most sharpely, therefore they ter­med him a Cinike, or doggish Philosopher, but after his death, his deedes were recorded and had in great reuerence. Socrates also was hated amongst his countrimen because he would tell them thorowly of their faults: Wherefore in the ende he was accused and put to death, but after had in great reuerence and admiration, folowing his rules and precepts, in gouerning their common wealth. In like sort, Aristotle, [Page] Demosthenes, Plato, Callisthenes, and diuers other, were had in greater estimation after their death, than they were in their life time. If Christ himselfe did liue at this day, amon­gest you as he did amongst the Iewes, and his miracles she­wed to you as they were in Iewry, it is hardly to be thought, whether you would haue beleeued so soundly on him, being bodily liuing amongst you, as you do nowe by the certaine reports of his passion and miracles. But if the Philosophers would haue giuen themselues, to please men, to flatter their follie, and to maintaine their vice, they should haue beene in great estimation in their life, but they should neuer haue pur­chased the name of Philosophers.Eli. lib. 7. Xenophon saith, that So­crates vpon a time had conference with the harlot Caliste, who vttered these wordes in course of talke to Socrates, Ego tibi Socrates, multùm presto, nam cùm tu neminem à me pos­sis abalienare, ego cum libitum est, tuos omnes à te auoco. I ex­cell thee Socrates many degrees, for when thou canst not al­lure men from me, I can entise any of thine from thee, when soeuer I list. To whom Socrates shaped this answere, Quid mirum est, siquidem tu ad decline? &c. What wonder is that, for thou dooest traile men downe in the dale of vice and destruction, but I hale them vp the hill of vertue and eter­nitie, wherevnto is no easie passage, or common climing: meaning, that the nature of man were more easier to be en­tised by flattery to lewdnesse, than by sharpe reprehension drawne to vertue. The wise Philosophers also were of this minde and opinion, that the most blessed and happiest thing which might fall and happen to man, was death, the end and conclusion of all miseries. In like manner, the ancient Po­ets, in diuers of their workes haue confirmed the same opini­on, as a generall and vniuersall iudgement: insomuch, that it hath beene reported,Eli lib. 9. that Biton and Cleobis, the sonnes of Araia, when their mother, being ministresse in a Temple of a goddesse, should haue gone to the Temple in a chariot with great speede, as the manner was, and her horses coulde not be founde, her two sonnes of childly pitie vouchsafed them­selues to bend their bodies and draw their mother with speed to the Temple: for which gentle affection the mother desi­red [Page 6] of the goddesse whom she serued, to giue her children the greatest benefite which GOD might giue to man. After the feast, in the night when the mother did take rest with her children, in the morning her two sonnes were founde dead: whereby it was gathered, that the greatest benefit that man could haue, was, in the middest of his glory and praise, to end his fraile life, that the vnconstancie of fickle fortune might not blot out any part of that which he had before gotten. Croesus the rich King of Lydia, Croesus. demanding on a time of So­lon who was the happiest man that euer he did sée, thinking that he would say Croesus, for his great riches and wealth: but Solon said, Tellus, a man of Athens, who had honest and good sonnes, and they also had good children, all which he sawe in his life, and when he had liued a good time ho­nestly, at the last fighting against, and vanquishing the ene­mies of his countrie, he died a faire death, & was in the same place honorably buried of the Athenians. When Croesus asked, who was most happy next Tellus, Solon named those whome hee knewe to liue and die most happiest, not naming Croesus at al, where at he being abashed said vnto Solon, My friend of Athens, settest thou so little by our felicitie, that thou preferrest before vs, these priuat persōs? Solō answered Truly Croesus in proces of time, many things are seene that men would not see, and many things are suffered that men would not suffer: and speaking much of mans calamitie, at the last he concluded,Solon. saying, Ante obitum nemo supremá (que) funera foelix, No man is happie, or thorowly blessed before his last and vttermost end: and that the end of euery thing is to be looked on, where to it shall come; for God plucketh vp many men by the rootes, vnto whom he gaue all thinges at pleasure: therefore I cannot account any man happy before his end be knowne. Croesus made hereto no countenance at al, but esteeming Solon for a foole, considering hee passed so lightly vpon things which appeared good, let him depart. A good space after, Croesus attempting warre against Cyrus king of Persia, was at the last taken of him, who caused a great pile of wood to be made redy, and Croesus to be gyued, and set on the top therof to be burned. Then forthwith Croe­sus [Page] remembring the words of Solon, that no man liuing was blessed, or on all parts happy, lamenting cried, O Solon, So­lon, Solon: which Cyrus hearing, caused it to be demaunded of him who it was that he named, Croesus with much diffi­cultie told who it was, and declared all that was before re­hearsed, which whē Cyrus had heard, remembring himselfe to be also a man, sore repented that he went about to burne him, which was equall to himselfe in honour and riches, and com­maunded him to be taken from the fire, which then began to flame, so with great difficultie he was deliuered: who coulde not perceiue his own errour, before experience had made him wise; wherefore in such causes, it may aptly be sayd, Phryx plagis emendatur, he bethought himselfe too late.

Scho.

It is sufficiently apparant by your examples, that the life of man cannot be happy vntill his ende, and that man ought to liue accordingly, to attaine to that happinesse, but the nature of men is so farre from that consideration, that they rather thinke themselues immortall, and with­out end, as doth appeare by their liues most euident, for they liue now in these our dayes, according as the Agragentines did in times past: for the wise Plato said of them,Dictum Platonis. They b [...] ­ded as if they would liue euer, and fedd as if they should al­wayes die, because of their costlines in building, and their de­licatenes in eating, the one shewing the immortall minde of man, and by the other, contrary to their meaning they runne headlong to an vntimely death: which surfetting end, accor­ding to the opinion of the wise Philosophers can not be ac­counted happy: but whereas temperance hath beene the ori­ginall ground of our conference, it shalbe also expedient, that you would make manifest, what the want thereof is, as well in princes and high estates, as in the meanest subiect, and what by their vnsatiable coueting they gaine.

Fa.

It is very requisite and necessary truely, to shew the vnsatiable appetite of aspiring mindes, and what by their in­ordinate coueting they gaine, which commeth by the want of the aforesaid gift, whereof I am right wel content (my good friend) so that you will diligently marke what I shall say herein; I will first begin with a king of the Hebrewes, whose [Page 7] name was Amasius, Amasius king of Iu­dea. & liued before the incarnation of Christ 853. yeares; who although he liued well and contentedly for a space, yet in the ende he forgat himselfe, and especially he forgat the liuing GOD, whom he before had serued, which hapned by his successes and innumerable riches, where with­all he grew so proude, that not contenting himselfe, he wrote to Ioas king of the Israelites, commaunding him & his people to be vnder his obedience and gouernement. But Ioas, af­ter defiance, gathered an army and went against Amasius, whose people fled before they came to strokes, for feare of Io­as: himselfe being taken and brought to the king, who threat­ned to kill him, except he caused the gates of Ierusalem to be opened, that he with his army might enter in: there Amasius was forced to breake downe of his owne Citie walles foure hundred cubites, by which way his enemie Ioas might enter in, being also led as prisoner by his foe, into his owne, where his aduersary spoyled and robbed him before his face of al the treasure of his house and citie, with the treasure of the temple, which he commanded to be caried to Samaria, and afterward being deliuered, his owne people slew him. This gained he for his discontentment.M. Antoni­us, in gesta Romano. & Liuius lib. 5. In like sort Marcus Antonius a no­ble Roman, whome Augustus the Emperour highly fauou­red, making him companion in the Romane Empire with himselfe, vsing him so louingly and friendly, that hee wholie ruled and commaunded the Empire so far foorth as Augu­stus himselfe: in consideration wherof Antonius by the lewd enticement of Cleopatra Q. of Aegypt aspired to the whole Empire, and to put downe his true and trusty friend Augu­stus, who before had aduanced him to that dignitie: for which vnsatiable appetite he was destroyed of his very louing and faithfull friend. Also if Caesar, Pompey, Cyrus, Alexander, Hanniball, and diuers other great Princes had bene couten­ted with their owne large kingdomes and possessions, they had neuer bin driuen to those extreme and shamefull ends as they were:Prouer­bium. so that it may well be prouerbially spoken, Au­rum Tolosanum habem, they died most miserably, whose liues and ends I would sufficiently relate and vnfold, to the better vnderstanding and perceiuing of the quiet state of content­ment, [Page] and the shamefull fall and destruction of couetous and aspiring mindes: but it may be, that I shoulde ouer-weary your eares with tediousnesse, for where a briefe will serue, it were méere folly to make a volume. Therefore for the auoy­ding of the blameable cause of ouer much tediousnesse in ex­amples, I am content in this point to be short, referring it to your owne iudgement and consideration.

Scho.

Not so Sir, I beséech you, for then should you offer me great discontentment, in naming the princes which shuld be examples in our aforesaid conference, referring them to my iudgement and consideration, who as yet am altogether ig­norant and vnacquainted either of their liues, or endes, con­tentment or discontentment: wherefore my consideration herein can be but to small effect, vnles I knew the certaintie. And although it would séeme tedious and troublesome to the eares of those who before doo know their histories sufficient­ly; yet notwithstanding because of mine ignorance herein, & for the better perceiuing of the aforesaid difference, I am ve­rie desirous to heare you, and shall haue great pleasure there­by rather than trouble; and let those who are alreadie perfect herein, stop their eares, vntill you conferre of other causes, which shall please and content them better.

Fa.

With verie good will my good friend, being also glad that you will not plead perfectnes, wherin you are ignorant; nor refuse the name of a Scholer, to learne further experience: for the wise Plato being demaunded how long he would bee a Scholer, and learne. So long (said he) as I repent not to be wiser. But to our purpose. I will procéed according to pro­mise, first beginning with the most renowmed Caius Iulius Caesar, Caesar in comment. a most victorious Romane, who liued 40. yeres before the Incarnation of Christ, and in 10. yeares space made ma­nie mightie Nations submit themselues; first winning the whole Countries of Spaine, Gallia, and Germanie, conquering also the Heluetians, the Latobrigians, Tulingians, Sedutians, Harudes, Tribockes, with the Kauratians, & the warlike Boy­ans; he also ouercame the Marcomans, the Sueuians, Nemets, Seduns, Veragrines, Ambiliats, Venets, Diablinters, Digerons, Farbels, and the Naunets; in like manner he vanquished the [Page 8] Osisenes, Tarrasats, Vocats, Pretians, Flustrates, Garites, Ga­rumnes, with the famous Ansians, the Sibusites, Cocasats, Au­lerkes, and compelled the stout Viridouix to yéeld himselfe; slaying also an infinite number of the Morines, Treuites, Mennapians, Lexobians; he also slew the strong and valiaunt Captaine Indutiomares with his owne hand; he subdued the Belges, the Neruians, the Aduatickes, with Occo the great Prince of the Senons; he beate downe the Condrosces, Sege­mes, and Eburons; he also overcame the Britons with Cassi­belan their King, & made them become tributaries vnto him.

Scho.

Sir (by your patience) let me cause you to stay there a while vntill I be certefied in this one poynt:The En­glish chro­nicle. the Britones whom Caesar conquered with their King Cassibelan, I take to be the English Nation now, which at the first time of his comming and inuading their Land (if ancient Records may challenge credite) gaue him a shamefull repulse, and slewe a number of his men, causing him also to flie the Land with great spéede into Gallia to saue his life; where amongst the Galls hee practised by treacherous meanes to obtaine their Land. Which in the ende he easily atchieued, for hauing cor­rupted their Nobles and chiefe States, he entred the Land the second time, and made a conquest thereof. But at his first comming, the Britons so fiercely encountred with him, that he was caused perforce to flie the Field; and therefore where as he was wont to certefie the Senat of Rome by his letters briefly saying and concluding, Vt veni, vidi, vici: So soone as I came, I saw, and I ouercame. Thus for breuitie sake, certi­fying the Romanes of his prosperous succes and good fortune: meaning thereby that no people or nation did or would with­stand him, himselfe being present, but yéelded themselves to his mercie at his verie first comming. Notwithstanding hee was at this time deceiued, and caused to stay his letters from Rome, for he could not say, So soone as I saw I ouercame: for the Britons at his first comming had driuen him out of their Countrey, ioyning battaile with the Romanes, and draue thē back with great slaughter; and in the same conflict a Britaine, named Nennius, matched hand to hand with Caesar, and cha­sed him in the field with great hazard and peril of his life; for [Page] catching the impoysoned sword of Iulius Caesar in his target, with the which he caused him to flie the field, as a hare before the hound to saue his life: but Nennius not preuayling be­cause of the wonderful swiftnes of Caesar, retired into the bat­taile againe, and slew the chiefe friend and Legate to Caesar, (whose name was Labienus) with ye sword which he had ta­ken from his Master. Also by the reports of Caesars owne pen in his Commentaries, that he neuer got Land with more dif­ficultie, than he did the Britaine Ile, chiefly praysing the Ken­tishmen both for their courtesie, manlinesse, and constancie, in the aforesaid Commentaries, which were written with his owne hand.

Fa.

I must needs confesse it is true, yet notwithstanding he was called the victorious Caesar, for that he vanquished in the ende whomsoeuer he warred against. After the conquest of the Britones, he forced the great Catiuulcus to poyson him selfe, subduing the noble Lytauicus, taking at the same time the great Citie Genabum, and the Cities Valundunum, No­niodunum, battering downe to the verie ground Auaricum, and slew in the same Citie 40000. people: also he vanquish­ed Theutomatus, Camalogeus, and slewe Eporidouix, where in the same fight Cotus and Canarell were taken pri­soners, Sedulius prince of Lemnouix was by him slaine at Alexea: he tooke a liue Vergasilaunus with three score ba­ners, and foure and thirtie thousand prisoners, with many a noble man, he ouercame Drapes, Surus, Suturuate, and cha­sed so narrowly the noble Prince Luctarius, that hee misera­bly dyed by famishment. The great king Etorix also, hee made to bee brought by his owne People to him as Pri­soner: he ouerthrewe great Pompey the Romane Prince in many a battel, discomfiting in one day al his power at Phar­salia, and caused him to flie in poore aray out of the campe in­to Aegypt, afterward displacing the king of Aegypt, and pla­cing his sister Cleopatra in his stead, whome he dearely lo­ued▪ Iuba king of Africa, and Pharnaces king of Pontus, he made submit themselues to his will. The sounes of great Pompey which came to reuenge their fathers quarrell in like sort he put to shamefull foile. Thus highly fortune fauored [Page 9] him, that he marched Conqueror through out all Europa. For the hautie minde of Caesar, as the auncient Romanes report, could abide no equall, neither could Pompey abide or tolerate any péere or superior, whereby the whole world was troubled by their dissention and strife, not onely with the losse of manie thousands of souldiors, but also with a great number of woor­thy, valiant, and noble men of great fame and renowme. After these great victories & huge slaughters of so many thousands, Caesar marched home to the gates of Rome, with the conquest of 300. seuerall nations, and 800. stately townes at the least: yet not cōtented with the proy of his victorie, nor filled with so many blodie slaughters, spared not, but beate down the stately walles of his owne natiue Citie Rome, because his countrie­men, fearing his crueltie at the first, would not open the gates of the Citie vnto him: for which cause hee made the Romans yéelde themselues on their knées, to become his faithfull and true subiectes, making himselfe Emperour ouer the Romane State, which was neuer subiect to Emperour before his time. Thus did the pride of his minde still clime for dignitie, not bée­ing satisfied but catching at the verie heauens, if his power had extended so farre, being fleshed with so manie bloudie broyles, and animated with such lordly statelinesse, that no Roman péere or potentate might stirre or speak against his wilfulnes. Ther­fore, true is the saying of Tully, Cicero, in offi. who saith, Quem metuunt ode­runt, quem quisque odit, perijsse expetit, Whom they feare they hate: whom euerie man dooth hate, his death is wished for. Which saying was truly verefied in him: for he grewe in such detestable hate dayly amongst the Romanes, that they continu­ally wished and heartely desired his destruction and confusion: which came thorough his great pride, and in that he would so much be feared. Neither was it vnknowen to him, that by his aspiring minde and stately behauior, he was growen into dead­ly hate amongst the Romanes: for which cause fearing the de­struction of expected hap, he made a law, and instituted a decrée, that no Romane should come into the Senate house with anie weapon at all vnder paine of death: (which was where he most commonly sate in iudgement, and where the States of the Ro­manes assembled themselues together, to conferre and deter­mine [Page] of causes: yet notwithstanding in the end Cassius & Bru­tus extreamely hating the vnquenchable pride of his aspiring minde, brought priuely into the Senate (in their pockets and sléeues) small bodkins,Mors Cae­saris. little kniues, and such other fit instru­ments for their purpose, and sodainely in the Senate house set vpon him vnlooked for, stabbing him into the bodie most mise­rably vntill he died. This was the end of mightie Caesar, which happened through the default of Temperance: which gift if he had possessed, he had not so died.

Scho.

O good God, what meant the vnsatiable Caesar by his inordinate coueting, and by the vncessant climing for vaine su­perioritie had he delight and pleasure in such cruell slaughters, and miserable murders of so many destressed people: was his gréedie appetite, so hungrie after honour, that his minde could neuer be satisfied: would not so manie pitiful murders, so ma­nie lamentable chances, so manie cruell acts, so manie hard es­capes in his warres, which he both beheld in others, & also felt himselfe, mollifie and abate the hautie pride, and loftie courage of his aspiring minde, wherein he might haue perceiued him­selfe as mortall as the rest? Surely I much meruaile how hée could register and set downe with his owne pen the whole dis­course of his warres and victories, compiled in a volume called Caesars Commentaries, without blushing chéeks, wonderful shed­ding of teares, and déepe sighes from the heart, to thinke that for his owne vaine glorie and pride of heart, so manie Nations were subdued, so manie stately Townes beaten downe & sack­ed, so manie people slain and murdred most lamentably, that all Europa stood floating with ye blood of his slaughters. He might haue considered the nature of man by the disposition of himself: for before their Countrey should be sacked, spoyled, robbed and destroyed by the inuasions and forces of forreign enemies, they will most willingly venter life, and runne with desperate minds to death in defence of Countrie and libertie:Distum Catonis. but the wise Cato saith, Sic facias alteri, quòd tibi vis fieri: So doo vnto another, as thou wouldest thy self be done vnto. Euen such measure as he gaue to others, such measure was heaped to him againe. For when he had depraued diuers kings of their kingdomes, spoy­led them of their liues, & wrested from them their goods, in the [Page 10] ende, as it séemeth, he was in one houre depraued of his Em­pire, which he had made firme to himselfe perforce, despoyled of his princely regiment, and most miserably murdred by the hands of his owne subiects. O most vnhappy end.

Fa.

If wee shall goe forward according to promise, it is not conuenient to stand long vpon this one example: but to procéed. Alexander the Great, who was the sonne of Philip King of Macedonie: Alexander magnus, vt Plutar­chus scripsit in like manner; was one whome fortune highly fa­uored; for being but twentie yeares old, when first he began his raigne: at which time hee set forward to conquere the whole World, and at the first subduing the Athenians, Getes, Lacede­monians, Argeans, Thalants: with all the whole countrey of Greece; from thence he went to Hellespont where he conquered all the countries there about, marching from thence into Asia, where at the first hee slew in one day of Persians, 20200. cau­sing also many Cities, and strong townes, in the same country to yéelde to his mercie, as Sardis, Lydia, Magnesia, Phrygia, E­philos, Pamphilia, Caria, Pysidia, Lysia, Gordin, Helicarnus, Me­lyton, Selenas, Aucyre, Paphlagony, Solos, Malon, Lernesus, Islon, Sebestus, with strong Castabulon. Then passing to the large country, Cilicia, where he tooke prisoners the mother and wife of King Darius, putting him to flight, sleying of the Persians, 100000. compelling also Strato the great King of Arade, with all the Kings of Syria, to yéeld themselues on their knées to his mercie: he put to sacke the stately and strong Citie Tyre, that neuer before, since the beginning of the World had been conquered: then sayled hee into Aegypt, and so ouer the riuer Nilo: where he subdued all the country, marching forward to Araby, where hee slew the mightie King Darius, with manie thousand of his people: from thence he passed to the great Citie Babylon, which was presently yeelded to him: then he conque­red the whole countrey of Armenia, Atrapine, Persepolis, Para­lacen; marching to the huge Nation of the Mardons: where he vanguished the Medes, Parthians, Spartans, Thracians, Acabi­ans, Boetians, Cannians, Besyrians, Nisans, Pisides, with many more, vntill he was letted by the Caspian seas: the countrie of Amazon he also subdued, and vtterly destroyed the great Pro­uince of Dranga, compelling their King to flie into India to [Page] saue his life; he ouercame the whole land of Aracosia, sacking the Cities, Acadera, Bactria, Cyroposis, Scythia, Bubacen, Basan­nes, Duhanes, and the Maurians, from thence hee conueyed his armie into India, that neuer was inuaded by any one be­fore, but by Hercules: passing ouer and conquering the high and stéepe Mountaines of Meroae and Dedala, with rich Amzaga; Mount Arum hee long besiedged, and in the end gat it, which Hercules before him could not subdue: making the Kings of India Omphis, Abiazaris, and Gamaxus, to yeeld themselues on their knees; then passed he ouer Hidaspis streames, where he vanquished the great King Porus, and slewe all his armie, still marching to the Sabians, Sugdrians, and Mallians, which he also conquered; then to the Oxidricans, whome hee vtterly o­uerthrew, marching on to the vttermost coastes of all the Ori­ent, vntill the mightie seas denied him further to passe: then prepared he a Nauie of shippes and sayled on the great Ocean sea: where he saw manie strange and wonderfull sightes, and found out many barbarous Nations, which hee also subdued with the sworde, not offering to make returne vntill the cruell seas denied his further passage; then returned hee to Babylon wonderfully weeping by the way as he went, for that he had heard Anaxarchus and Democrites affirme,Democri­tes, ita dixit. that there were many and diuers worldes; for which cause, Heu me, inquit mi­serum, qui nec vna quidem sum potitus, Woe is mee (saith hee) miserable wretch, that am not possessor as yet of any one: neither do they feele or knowe my power and might nor haue my banners been spred in their Coasts and countries whereby they might haue knowne me their Lord & King. Thus continuing in sorrowe vntill he came to the Citie of Ba­bylon, where he held a great Parliament, (for all the Kings of the Orient were sommoned, to come and doo their homage, to the great King,) sitting there as it were in the heart & middle of the earth, to the intent the greatest part of Kings and Princes of the whole world might with speed come to honour him: who caused himselfe to be called the sonne of Iupiter: for being lifted vp with the pride of his victories, attributing the chance thereof to his owne worthinesse, thought himselfe in deede the sonne of God, commanding his people vpon paine of death so to cal him, [Page 11] willing also that all Nations of the earth should adore and worship him, by the name of the sonne of Iupiter: but see, the high and mightie God immortall would not suffer this proude King any longer to liue, but cut off his daies in the most florish­ing time of his prosperitie. For those whome Alexander put most trust and confidence in, first of all betraied their proude mortall God:Iustinus, in lib. 12. for at such time as he was bidden to a banquet in the house of his friend Thesalus Medus, hee was miserablie poysoned by the hands of Cassander, Philip, and Iola, which was by the consent of his owne Lieftenant Antipater, and A­ristotle sometime his master and Tuter; which happned by his vnsatiable appetite of coueting, with the vnmeasureable thirst after dignitie: and also the intollerable vice of pride thorowe which he caused himself to be called a God: all which they dead­ly detesting, consented to the poysoning of their King. Then was the saying of Diogenes verefied in Alexander: who said, That his length of ground were sufficient patrimonie for himselfe which in the end the greatest Prince of the world must be contented withall. Notwithstanding Alexander re­garded not the saying of the wise Philosopher, but coueted still after the whole world, yt when he needed but so much possession as Diogenes before spake of, he could not possesse it, but wan­ted the rites of his buriall: for hee was kept aboue the ground vnburied, by reason of the great strife & discentions which were amongst the Lords and peeres of Macedonie about the succes­sion; whereof when Olympias his mother had heard;Diodorus Siculus, in lib 8. she tooke on verie pittifullie, and made this mourneful lamentation: say­ing. O fili, fili, tu cùm in deorum numerum referri volueris, & id perficere summo studio conatus sis, nunc neque illorum quidem, quorum omnibus mortalibus aequale & par, ius est, particeps fieri potes, terrae & sepulturae. My sonne, my sweete sonne, needes wouldst thou be recounted among the Gods immortall: and didst what thow couldst to accomplish thy purpose, but now my sonne, my sweet sonne, thou art so far from being heauen­ly, that thou art most vile, wanting the common benefit of bu­riall, whereof not so much as the lowsie beggar is depriued. Thus did she bewaile her ill lucke and froward fortune, detect­ing also the pride & vanitie of her son Alexander in her bitter lamentation. For truely the body of her sonne had wanted the [Page] rights of buriall, had not his friend Aristander Telmisensis in­uented a craftie meane to bring his carrion carkas to the earth, for lying aboue the ground vnburied the space of thirtie daies: this his faithfull friend comming to the lords and péers, which were at variance about the succession of his kingdome, made this fained protestation, as though he had beene pricked there­vnto by some extraordinary or heauenly motion, to saye these words as followeth,Eli. lib. 10. Omnes omnium seculorum reges Alexan­der foelicitate superauit, tàm viuus quàm mortuus: Etenim dij immortales mihi notum fecerunt, in quacun (que) terra ipsius anima requiem primum esset habitura, eam foelicitate abundantem, & ab omni hostili vastatione in perpetuum fore liberam. Alexan­der, when he was liuing, and also now being dead, excelled al kings of all ages, in felicitie, happinesse, beatitude, and pros­peritie: for the gods euerlasting haue reuealed and made ma­nifest to me, that in what region soeuer the soule of Alexan­der first did rest, the same should be crowned with plentie and abundance, it should not feare the wasting of forren force, nor be subiect to the violent inuasion of the spitefull aduersarie. When the péeres and nobles had heard these wordes pronoun­ced by Aristander, they presently cut off all quarelling for su­premacie, and euery one of them put too his helping hand, with no lesse desire than duetie, to conuey the dead carkasse of Alex­ander into his owne Empire, that they might possesse their treasure and all things in peace: notwithstanding, beholde the immortal God would not suffer the dead carkasse of this god, to take as yet any rest in the grounde, nor to haue the rights of buriall, but caused dissension to arise, whereby his body was tossed frō place to place. For Ptolomeus king of Aegypt made inquisition and search after the dead body of Alexander, Diodorus Siculus, de morte A­lexand. and founde it out at Alexandria: as for the Macedonians they were calme, quiet, and still, Perdicas onely excepted, who pur­sued Ptolomeus with might and maine, not so much for the loue, duetie, and reuerence which he had to Alexander, as for the wordes which Aristander pronounced, neither truely did Ptolomeus bestowe that great paines, for the verie loue he bare to Alexander, so much as he did for the same deuotion as Per­dicas had: but Perdicas in the end ouertaking Ptolomey, stay­ed [Page 12] him: in which incounter, Ptolomey suppressed the power of Perdicas, and committed a great slaughter of the Macedonians, who sought so earnestly to recouer the dead body of the Ma­cedonian Monarch, and were also at the last flouted after this sort: for Ptolomeus had made an image which resembled A­lexander the puissant, and decked it gloriously, beautifyeng it with garments of princelinesse, he also adorned it with Epi­grams and inscriptions, and poesies of high honour, he laid it in a Persian chariot, and decked the coffin brauely with golde and siluer, as became the estate of an Emperour, as for the carkas it selfe, it was but homely handled, for it was wrapt in no cost­ly geare, but very basely vsed, and as present occasion craued, priuily sent away by secret and vnknowne wayes, to the intent it might not be intercepted or stayed. Now when Perdicas had espied the sumptuous simulachre of dead Alexander, and sawe euery thing as he thought roially executed and pompously per­formed, he pawsed from his speedy pursuit after Ptolomey, per­swading himselfe, that he had obtained the thing, namely, the body of Alexander, wherabout such strife and contention kind­led and burned betwixt them both so egerly: but hee was delu­ded and mocked for all that, and vnderstood the truth somewhat too late, and perceiued that he was craftily circumuented, and was forced in the end to retire backe, being shamefully flow­ted. This was the end of this earthly god, and the vnquietnes which fell to his dead carkasse, which could not for a time ob­taine the rights of buriall: and also after it was committed to the ground it could not rest, but was tossed and remoued from place to place, for whereas hee in his life time despised to be counted mortal, he was at his death denied the cōmon benefite of a mortall man. Of whose life and manners, hereafter shall be more sufficiently spoken, according as the cause shall re­quire, and occasion be offered.

Scho.

O most vnhappy Prince that euer liued, woulde hee needs be a god? Was there no remedy: Well, therefore as it seemeth he could not enioy the common benefit of a man, what meant he by this vaine wish, when he heartily wished that his armes might reach from the orient to the occident, and that he might beare his banners displayed in all kingdoms and nati­ons [Page] of the earth, to the intent he might be knowne their Lorde and King? nay rather what meant he when that he could not satisfie himselfe, with so great a parte of the world as he had al­ready gotten and wonne, but mourned for the other worldes which he heard of, which he thought vnpossible for him to get? Was his appetite so vnquenchable? O vnsatiable minde that hearkened not to the wise saying of Diogenes, who saide; His length of ground were sufficient patrimony for him? which in the ende the greatest prince and peere of the earth must be contented withall: but he being kept so long aboue the ground (as seemeth) lesse than his length in his life might containe his dead rotten carkas. For a small hole would serue to croud and thrust the remaine of the decayed and putrified corps with ease: wherefore he needed not so large measure of ground, as Diogenes spake of before. But sée the power of the immortall God in shortning the armes of this mortall God so much, that so small a rowme would with ease hold and containe him; which before groped in a manner after the verie heauens, the vpper face of the earth not contenting his greedie appetite. There­fore truly in my opinion he needed not to write vpon his graue, or Tombe,Carmina Ennij. as Ennius did, who ingraued these verses, be cause the people should not bewaile his death, saying:

Nemo me lacrimis decoret, neque funerafletu
Faxit, cur? volito docta per ora virûm.

No man shall bewaile mee with teares, nor shall make sad my funerall with weeping. For Alexander might well assure himselfe, hauing so much troubled and molested the world, that his name which in his life time was both odious and detestable: should not at his death bee bewailed and deplored: but rather that his funerall should turne the whole world to great gladnes and common ioye.

Fa.

Cyrus the Persian King, although he liued a while con­tented and in fauour and good liking of his people, yet notwith­standing in the end hee was drowned in couetousnesse, giuing himselfe to the vaine pride of the world: hunting after honour, climing after superioritie,Iustinus, lib. 1. striuing vncessantly for the king­domes of his neighbours, whereby he grewe both odious to his countrimen, & also vntollerable to his confines and borderers: [Page 13] neither could he take example by Croesus the rich King of Ly­dia, whom hee had taken prisoner before, with all his people; which happned thorowe his coueting and vnsatiable minde: and yet for all that hee gaue himselfe so much to the conquering of the kingdomes of others; that in the end he lost both his own patrimonie and life also. But first to showe the preseruing, elec­tion, and establishing of this King, it shall not much digresse from our purpose.Digressio. Astyages King of the Medeans, in the night dreamed,Plu. de vita Cyri. that out of his daughters loynes should spring a vine: whose branches should ouer shadowe al Asia. The King being feareful asked counsaile of ye Southsaiers cōcerning ye euent of his troublesome dreame, whose answeres were yt his daughter should bring foorth to him a nephewe, which should take his kingdome from him. Thus being terrified with this answere; he would neither giue his daughter to any forreigne Prince, or worthie state, nor to his owne countriemen which discended or came of any honorable parentage: to the intent that no stock or race of nobilitie might bréed or bring vp such a nephewe to him. But at the last he gaue her in mariage to Cambises a Persian, which was at that time a most obscure Nation: notwithstand­ing fearing the future hap of his dreame, he sent for his daugh­ter being great with child, vnder colour of being graundfather, that he might looke well and carefullie to his daughters Child, when it should be borne. Not long after the young Childe his nephew was borne; and then foorthwith Astiages the Graund­father gaue it to Harpagus chiefe Lord of his counsaile to bee presently slaine: but Harpagus fearing least after the death of his Lord Astiages, his daughter & mother to that child should raigne in the kingdome, and so reuenge the murder of the inno­cēt on him; wherfore he gaue it to one of the kings shepheards, to bee priuelie brought vp, returning this answere to the King that he had slaine the child his nephew: therefore he should not néede to feare his dreame. But in time the boy growing vp to a pretie stripling, being in companie with his fellowe shepheard boyes in the field, and by lot was chosen King in their childish sportes and plaies, when certaine of his little subiects had trans­gressed his cōmandement, he caused them to be holden vp in iest whilest he whipped them in earnest: the boyes complained of [Page] this abuse to their parents and they in like sort taking in hard part such whipping, cōplained of it also to the King: how that the sonne of a hired seruant had scorged and whipped their chil­dren, which they tooke grieuousely: then Astiages sending for the boy, demanding of him the cause? Where with the boy with a bolde and manly face, Fecisse se vt regem respondit, he an­swered; That hee had done as became a King, and no other­wise Astiages hearing this maiesticall answere of the pretie boy, called to minde his forepassed dreame, viewing well the lad: he asuredly thought that ye boy much fauored his daughter whose Childe hee had caused to bée slaine; but both by the face and similitude of the youth, and by the confession of the shep­heard, and the time of the receit thereof. Hee then knewe that hee was his right Nephew; vanishing all feare from himselfe of the aforesaide Dreame and Prophecie, for think­ing himself to bée as a dead man in his sleepe, and his Nephew to bee King and as the Southsayers had declared hee should be, thought himselfe clearelie freede from all perill. But Harpagus scaped not vnpunished for breaking the kings commandement; for Astiages catching the sonne of Harpagus slew him,Actum ter­ribile. and caused his cookes to dresse the mangled boy, inui­ting after the father of the child, causing him vnawares to eate his owne flesh. Which thing being afterward knowne vnto Harpagus, he dissembled the matter vntill he might with fit o­portunitie reuenge this villanie foorthwith, sending priuily in­to Persia to Cyrus, shewing him how his grandfather had dealt with him, for sauing his life, wishing him also to prepare an ar­my, and come to chalenge his kingdome which his grandfa­ther meant to defraud him of. Cyrus hauing receiued the let­ters, considering the ancient wrongs that his grandfather had offered him before: and nowe also howe greatly hee had abused him, who had preserued his life, wherefore he presently gathered an army, minding now to chalenge his right whilest that he had such a faithfull friend as Harpagus was, who offe­red himselfe to do his vttermost in the behalfe of Cyrus. But Astiages hearing of such great preparation against him by his nephew, in like sort also prouided a mightie hand against him, the conduction whereof he committed whollie to the gouerne­ment [Page 16] of his counseller Harpagus, who presently when he had receiued them, yéelded vp the whole army to Cyrus, to reuenge himselfe on the king for the great iniurie hee had offered him: the king hauing knowledge thereof, gathered a newe power of men, and went himselfe against his nephew, marching on to the borders of Persia, where was fought betwixt the grandfa­ther and the nephew a most cruell and bitter fight, in which conflict this notable courage in the Persian women is remem­bred, for the battell, being planted on both partes woonderfull strong. And Astiages to the intent his souldiours should fight manfully, had diuided his army in such sorte, that he placed at the backes of those that should fight the battell, an other army of souldiors, saying, Vnles they ouercame, and went forward, they should finde as hard fight behinde them, as their enemies were before them. If in case they should offer to retire backe: the battelles on both sides being come to handstrokes, and deadly blowes, the Persian army at the first began to flee backe and retire, which sorrowfull sight, the Persian women had soone espied, wherefore foorthwith the matrons, wiues, and daugh­ters assembled themselues in haste, and running to méet them, who came fléeing before Astiages and the Medeans, as men despairing of their good fortune, plucking and folding vp their clothes, shewing the priuie secrets of their bodies, asking them whether or no they would flée for succor into the wombs of their mothers or wiues, requesting them ernestly to returne into the battell and fight for their liues, saying, That if they would needes runne home, they coulde neither succour or helpe them any otherwise than by what meanes they had al­ready shewed them. By which castigation of the women, the Persian souldiours retired into the battell againe, and put their enemies to shamefull flight, taking also prisoner Astiages the Medean king. Thus far digressing from our purpose, to shew both the crueltie of Astiages, the valiantnesse of the Persian women, and the good happe of Cyrus, in attaining vnto the crowne.Ad causam But now to returne to our purpose againe. Cy­rus possessing all Persia and Medea, was not contented with those large kingdomes and dominions, but still coueted to enlarge his possessions, delighting in bloudie battailes, [Page] reioycing at the ruine and destruction of statelie Townes and Cities. For after manie cruell fightes and bloudie broyles, hee entered into Lydia: where in a great battaile hee tooke Croesus the rich King thereof. Notwithstanding he was not sa­tisfied with all the treasure & Kingdome of Lydia, which was then the most richest Region vnder the heauens: but marched forward into Asia, conquering that also; returning at the last with all the East part of the world, which he held vnder the subiec­tion. Yet being not filled with bloudie fight, nor satisfied with victorie, he waged warre with the Scythians, who at that time were gouerned by Quéene Thomyris; which sent her Sonne with a great Armie to defend her Countrey: but the subtile Captaine Cyrus, perceiuing the yong man to be but a fresh wa­ter soldier, fraughted his Tents well with wine and fresh vit­taile (in which he knewe the Scythians much delighted) and af­ter faining a flight as if thorough feare of the Scythian Armie, he departed, leauing his Tents wholly furnished to intrap the Scythians withall: which fel out accordingly, for the lustie youth (ouer rashly and without good consideration) seazed on those Tents being forsaken of the enemie, and (according to their ac­customed manner) fell to such excessiue quaffing and bibbing, that the whole Armie was soone drunken therewith, being void of all feare, for that they supposed the Enemie to be fled. But Cyrus being aduertised therof, returned in the night to his tents againe, finding the Scythians ouercome with his wine; so that he easily slew the Sonne of Thomyris and the whole Scythian Armie. The Quéene hearing of the losse of her deere Sonne, & also of her Armie, did not spende the time in wéeping, but pre­sently sought meanes to reuenge her selfe on that vnsatiable wretch, & with such like subtiltie as Cyrus beguyled her sonne, with such pollicie she trained him to his destruction: for the Per­sians greatly reioycing in their first victorie, and happie successe in the beginning; and the Scythians contrariwise, making shew as if they were greatly discomfited with the losse of their Ar­mie and former foyle,Mors Cyri. retiring still backe from their enemies, to traine them in like sort into the marishes and straight places of their Countrey, where the enemie was intangled before they knewe of any such practise, or suspected anie such craft at all. [Page 15] There was Cyrus slaine with 200000. Persians, whereof there remained not one to carrie newes or message back into Persia how they had sped in Scythia; in which great conflict & slaugh­ter, when Thomyris had found out the dead bodie of Cyrus, she caused the head to be cut from the carkasse, flinging the head in­to a tub of mans blood, which was filled for the same purpose: saying; Satia te sanguine quem sit isti, cuiúsque insatiabilis semper fuisti: Dictum Thomiris. Cyrus now satisfie thy selfe with blood, which thou hast long thirsted after, wherof thou couldest neuer haue thy fill. Thus died Cyrus when he had raigned 30. [...] Pompeius Magnus (so called for his incomparable Uictories,Pompeius magnus. Vt Liuius scripsit li. 3. being the sonne of Pompeius Strabo) in like case wanted the gift of tem­perance: for being wonderfully beloued of the Romanes, and ho­noured excéedingly for his happie successes in his warres, grew in the ende so proud, that he disdained anie superiour: which ambitious minde caused his shamefull destruction. First being but a youth, he entered into Africke, committing there most horrible slaughters of the Africans, subduing their Countrey to the Romane Empire, returning to Rome: from thence, he spée­dely marched into Spaine; where he ouercame in Battaile the most valiaunt Captaine Sertorius, beeing then an Exile in Spaine, and before inuincible. He also vanquished the great king of Pontus called Mithridates, with a mightie number of people. For which great victories he triumphed in Rome twise, not being filled with these great conquests and murders of di­stressed people, nor satisfied with his stately triumphs, but forth­with inuaded and conquered these realmes and nations, as Armenia, Cappadocia, Paphlagonia, Media, Cilicia, Mesopota­mia, Iudea, Arabia, Colchis, Iberia, Albania, and Syria, for the which also he triumphed in Rome. In these warres he gathered a mightie masse of treasure, whereby he both inriched the com­mon treasure-house of Rome, and also himselfe, the gold which he brought to Rome from the spoiles of these wars, was 2000. talents, which amounteth of our mony to 28026600. pounds, beside that which he gaue to euery priuat souldior, which was sixe pounds to euery man: therefore it is to be thought, that in so great an hoast as pertained to the cōquests of so many coun­tries, must needs extend to a wonderfull summe of money. If [Page] then the summe which was preserued did amount to such a mightie masse. It is also to be supposed the priuat spoiles and booties of the common souldiors did arise to a great quantitie, which was not openly declared. Wherefore it is to be consi­dered, how that Pompey thorough his vnsatiable appetite did spoile and sacke on infinite number of statelie Cities and rich towns, with the sheding of huge streams of bloud, in the gathe­ring together of this mucke, for which cause also manie thou­sands of his people lost their liues. Returning to Rome with the rich spoiles, his haughtie pride much more increased; in so­much, that no Romane (in what office soeuer) might be his péere, no nor scant his equall, and to establish his estate the bet­ter, he married Iulia the daughter of Iulius Caesar a mightie Roman: but this friendship not long continued, for Iulia died: then coulde not Caesar and Pompey agrée, for the stately pride of the one could not brooke or digest the haughty mind of the o­ther, whereby there grew amongst the Romans great contro­uersie and debate, insomuch, that in the ende, it came to bloudie blows and mightie slaughters, as wel of Romans themselues, as of infinite thousands of strange nations, and forren people: but at the last Pompey was vanquished and forced to flie priuily by sea into Aegypt, Mors Pom. where by the conduct of king Ptolomeus he was slaine in a bote, his head being stricken off, and his body cast on the stround, where it was but poorely buried. Thus died Pompey when he had liued thrée score yeares, spending his time in sheding bloud, whose proude minde in his aged time, would not suffer his body to rest, but in striuing and conten­ding for superioritie, he most shamefully lost his life. Thus (good friend (it is manifest what aspiring mindes gaine in the end. For further proofe whereof, it might more sufficiently be prooued by the fall of diuers other kings and princes, which at this time I omit, hoping, that these few examples shall as well suffice, as if I had more amply related, or apparantly expressed them by further examples.

Scho.

Sir, for your great courtesie herein, I yéelde you most hartie thankes, not being willing to trouble you any fur­ther in these examples, for you haue most plainely manifested the reward of discontentment, the incident ende of aspiring [Page 14] mindes, the imminent perill which doeth dayly hang ouer the climers for superioritie, so that first from the beginning being certified of the state of man, wherein is shewed, that he hol­deth nothing proper of himselfe, but borroweth what he hath of others by reason of his nakednesse; then also what an vncertaine thing life it selfe is in this naked bodie of man: so that man be­ing of this bare and base mettell, ought not to thinke himselfe immortall; then also what was more necessary to gouerne the fraile life and naked bodie of man, than temperance, showing the quietnesse and happie state to the possessors thereof. And now in like sort in these your last examples: what troubles, vexations, perilles, and vtter confusion dooth happen and fall consequently to the wanters of the afore saide gift: therefore as you haue orderlie begun, so my request is that you will accor­dinglie procéede forward.

Fa.

Truly friend there are many enimies to the life of man, which for their pleasantnesse at the first, are taken as deere friends: for the nature of man, is to account that a friendlie pleasure which fullie satisfieth his lewde vaine and gréedie ap­petite; although after it shortly turneth him to destruction. The wise Marcus Cato, finding out and perceiuing that worldlie muck,Mar. Cato. (as heapes of gould and siluer, which is but mettle of the earth) was one of the chiefest enimies and aduersaries to the quiet state and peaceable rest of man: when hee came from the conquest of Spaine, hauing gathered a great masse of treasure together. First considered to himselfe what inconuenience this money and coyne might purchase, either to himselfe or to any of his friends which might possesse too great a quantitie thereof; also fearing that if he should bring it into the tresurie of Rome, it would trouble and disquiet the whole bodie of the Senat, who hauing sufficient before (as Cato thought) might there­with purchase the death and destruction of many thousands of Romans and other people: for as he thought, if they had such a huge masse of treasure, they would haue prouided to conquer the world, if it had bin possible for them. Which thing he might well conceiue, for that he at that time was commanded and sent by the Senat, to make a cōquest of Spaine: but wise Cato fore­séeing all these euills and expected harmes; at his retourne out [Page] of Spaine towards Rome, gaue to euerie one of his Souldiers, (which were a mightie number) a pound waight of siluer, be­cause hee would dissolue and seperate the suspected mischiefe; knowing also that the monie was vnreuocable againe out of so many holders hands (saying) better it were that many should returne to Rome with siluer; then a few with golde: which as Cato supposeth is one of the most speciallest enimies to the quiet state and gouernement of man; bréeding trouble and vexa­tion to the minde, [...] fo. 215. which otherwise would be in quiet rest. In like manner Crates a Philosopher, perceiuing what vnquiet­nesse, the goods of this world bred to the mind of man, threw his riches and treasure into the sea because they should neither mo­lest or trouble himselfe, nor otherwise infect his friends with a­uarice: (saying;) Packe hence, you vngratious appetites, I had rather downe you, than you should drowne mee: also further saying, se non posse virtutes & diuitias simul possidere, that hee could not possesse vertue and riches together. Bias Prienaeus, a learned man of Grece, seeing his countrie taken by enimies, fled;Bias Prie­naeus. other men taking with them such goods, as they might beare: but he caried nothing with him, and being afterward de­manded why he tooke not his riches and treasure with him, but left it as a pray for the enimie? Made this answere (saying;) Omnia mecum porto, I carie all mine with me, meaning vertue and doctrine; reputing the goods of fortune, none of his: say­ing further: I am but ouersharplie reuenged on my foes in le­uing that behind mee, which wil so sore trouble & molest thē. In like case, the wise and learned Philosopher Democritus, when he returned to Athens, gaue his possessions and riches to the weale publique,Ehanus. l. 6. which was very great; to bee as mainte­nance and reliefe to the poorest Citizens: sauing a little garden which he reserued to walke in for recreation sake. Also when he beheld the Citie of Athens, he continually laughed at their foo­lish diligence, which spared no paines to get authoritie and rich­es, that they were not sure to keepe; which also laboured to get their children great possessions, who either died before their fa­thers, or (ouerliuing them) shortly spent away all their fathers left them. But the Athenians being angrie therwith, sent Hip­pocrates to Democritus, to demaund what he meant by his foo­lish [Page 17] laughing; thinking him to be mad. But Hippocrates when he perceiued what he meant, returned againe to the Athenians, saying, Surely Democritus is not mad, but truly I rather think those mad whom he laugheth at. On a tune a certaine man de­maunded of Agesilaus King of Lacedemonia, why he being so mightie a Prince did liue no richer, fare no better, and lie with no more estate, than he did? Who answered, It doth my friend (saith he) become a King to excel in moderate and temperate liuing, Dictum A­gesilai. and not in delicacie, and after a superfluous manner. Neither (saith he) doo I meane by my spare liuing, to hoord vp treasure to purchase the heauens: but rather to giue exam­ple to my subiects to liue and continue in contentment. Then no doubt, if princes ought to excell in temperance, but that their subiects ought much more to imitate those good Princes, consi­dering by the aforesaid examples, that superfluitie of wealth is an enimie alwaie repugnant, as well to vertue, as to the quiet state and gouernment of man. Anthenodorus a Stoicke Phi­losopher was wont to say,Dictum Anthe. Thou maist thinke thy selfe free frō couetousnesse, when thou art come to this poynt that thou wilt desire nothing of GOD, but that thou maiest openlie craue. Thinking although the heart of man were neuer so couetous of inordinate wealth, yet his tung durst not openly pronounce it: then according to this opinion, if man would not wish priuely for more, than he would openly craue for his credite, no doubt then man would not bee unsatiable; but manie Princes haue been so vnsatiable themselues, and their subiects so rightly and iustly haue imitated and followed their proceedings, that it is grounded with sure hold and roote in man. I am surely per­swaded, that ther are more in these our daies, which haue more rightly followed the Romane Emperour Vespasianus; than haue imitated Agesilaus the Lacedemonian King, which is be­fore spoken of:Sextus Au­relius so. 54 for Vespasianus the Emperour, gaue himselfe to such immoderate coueting, that he preferred to dignitie those that were wonderfull couetous: to this end, that when they had by their vnsatiable appetites whoorded vp much treasure, hee might cauill and quarrell against them, and take their goods frō them which they had gotten by vile extortion. He also ordeined a tribute or taxe to be paid him of the quantitie of stale made in [Page] euerie house: for which, because it was euil spoken of, his sonne Titus would haue disswaded him earnestly from that filthy and stinking gaine: to whome at that time Vespasianus said litle. But when the mony of the taxe was next brought in, he taking his handfull of the money, & calling his sonne Titus vnto him, held it to his nose saying; Doth this money sauor well or no? He answered, It sauoured well. Why (said he) and this com­meth of the vrine and pisse: wherefore thou maist see that the sauor of gaine is sweete, whereof soeuer it commeth. But such sweete may soone turne to sower, and sodaine haps may fall to the coueting minde, as fell on Brennus Captaine of the Galles, who builded the Citie Brennon by Venice, Liuius. lib. 2 which now is called Verona: who beeing not contented with a rich pray and bootie, but gaped after more, lost all in the end. For hauing ouercome the Citie of Rome, and caused the youth of the noble men to flie into the Capitoll, hauing also ouerthrowen the whole Armie of the Romanes before at the riuer Allia, & now hauing closed the chiefe of the Romanes in the Capitoll or Castle of Rome, condi­tioned that for a great summe of money hee foorthwith would remoue his siege and depart: the Romans graunted therevn­to and as they were a weighing the money, he pulled foorth his sword, and commaunded them also to counterpoise that with golde, but the Romans refused that, as a matter vniust, and Brennus stoode in controuersie with them: In the meane time Camillus a banished Roman that was made Dictator in his absence, had gathered a company of them that fled out of the Citie before, and then sodenly set vpon the Galles. Brennus then vpon the sodaine being abashed, flet, and left the whole treasure behind him, Camillus not resting vntill hee had fréeed Italy of them: whereat Brennus chafing at the losse receiued by his own folly, thought to recouer as much money in some other place, before he would dismisse his army, insomuch, that he thorough his desparate minde, set on the Temple of Apollo at Delphos, to haue spoyled it for the great treasure therein: for which at­tempt of sacrilege he was sharpely punished, with great extre­mitie, his people slaying ech other, and himselfe at the last was slaine by his owne hand. Then consider what perill and daun­ger man dooth runne into, by striuing to get those goodes and [Page 18] mucke of the earth, which being gotten is more perilous in possessing and kéeping, than is danger in getting which falleth out oft with the losse of life, for enioyeng of a mount of money, or a masse of treasure with great abundance of worldly wealth, dooth often make the mind of man so haughty and proude, that he will not know his inferiour; nay the mind of man is in those prosperities to make the whole earth to stoupe and be obedient to his wil: and not fully contented with that in the end snatch­eth after the very heauens, and as it were despising the earth as a place vnwoorthy of them, causing themselues to bee called gods, and honoured amongst all nations and people, as their most principall & chiefest gods, commanding the whole world to stoupe and be obedient to no other gods but themselues, des­pising to heare of their mortalitie, accounting themselues im­mortall: which vile error, and abominable opinion procéedeth, and is first stirred vp, by the proude aspiring minde and vnsati­able appetite of mā, in coueting so inordinatly after kingdoms, authoritie, worldly wealth, and such superfluous desire, wher­by his minde is eleuated to such lordly statelinesse.

Scho.

Truely sir, I must néedes confesse, that in these our dayes, gold is accounted a speciall and chiefe friend to man: yea, one of the nearest, and most surest at the time of néede; go­ing thorow with all causes, when other friends doe often faile: the force whereof when the learned and pleasant Poet Ouid had thorowly by experience found out, and sufficiently tryed, at the last being banished Rome, liuing in exile, and being vtterly forsaken of his dearest friends, with sorow from the heart re­peated these verses, saying;

En ego non paucis quondam munitus amicis,
Ouidius de tristibus.
dum slauit velis aura secunda meis.
Vt fera nymboso tumuerunt aequora vento,
in medijs lacera puppe relinquor aquis.

Which well may be englished after this sort.

Behold how many frends were prest,
while wealth did me support:
And golden gale did driue my sayle,
so long would they resort.
[Page]
But when both windes and seas did rage,
and fortune frowned grimme:
My frends soone left me in the flouds,
to sinke or els to swimme.

In like manner, we daylie sée that the friendship of many men continueth so long, as fortune remaineth; and are as compani­ons and friends to fortune, folowing the table of the rich, prof­fering déere friendship, where gaine is to be hoped after. Inso­much that it is aparantly perceiued they are friends to fortune and folowers of welth, and not sure ayders of distressed per­sons, so that it may be rightlie saide;

Donec eris felix multos numerabis amicos:
Nullus ad amissas ibit amicus opes.

Which I English in this sorte,

When riches rise of friends be sure
to haue at neede great store:
But welth once lost, such friends passe bie
as faund on thee before.

For where goods are, be sure there friendship cannot be wanting and where substance is decayed, there no longer is friendship to be hoped for: but as the olde saying is, No longer penie, no longer paternoster. Againe when such hunters after fortune chance to passe bie either towne or villedge, spying some house of account: they straight way demand who dwelleth there; say­ing, What is he rich, what store of possessions hath he, will hée play the good fellowe, and spend franckelie amongst good com­panions? But verie fewe will aske how hee came by his goods whether by good meanes or no: not demanding whether he be wise, learned, or what good gouernement hee hath to order or gouerne his possessions with all, Vnde habeas nemo quaerit sed oportet habere; From whence he had it, or how hee came by it, no man enquires, but that if he haue it, it suffiseth: saying fur­ther, Quantum quis (que) sua nummorum seruat in arca, tantum ha­bet & fidei: Euen so much money as euerie man keepeth in his chest or coffer, euen so much credit he shall be sure to purchase at all times: being thorowly perswaded, that what so euer is wanting, by money it may bee obtained: in so much that they are not ashamed to say, Et genus & formam regina pecunia do­nat, [Page 19] Ladie money dooth giue both noble birth and comlie shape, and also it maketh the browne and hardfauored maide, to be a tricksie and penie white wench. Which blinde error, being sufficiently perceiued by the wise philosophers, who were wont after a flouting and scoffing manner to deride and mock them; saying, O ciues ciues quaerenda pecunia primum, virtus post nū ­mos, O ye Citizens, first of all money is to be sought for, ver­tue is to be folowed after money is gotten. Yet notwithstan­ding Sir, although I manifest the common custome and vsiall tradition of men in these our dayes: yet doo I not forget your examples, which of late shewed the great vnquietnes that day­ly hapned to the possessors of such superfluous welth and trea­sure, by daylie disturbing and molesting their quiet state and peaceable life: which otherwise without such worldly muck, would be frée at libertie from such care and trouble as often hapneth thereby, wherefore it is saide,

Pauca licet portes argenti vascula puri,
Nocte iter ingressus gladium contum (que) timebis
Et motae ad lunam trepidabis arundinis vmbram,
Cantabit vacuus coram latrone viator.

Which I English thus.

Although of coyne small store you beare
yet traueling in the night,
Both sworde and speare you feare, and think
each bush is prest to fight:
And starting at a shaking reede,
by feare doo stop and stay:
But he that wants the coyne dooth sing
before the chiefe all way.
Who can sing so merie a note
As he that cannot change a grote,

But now sir, cōming to your last conclusion, Is it possible that by any quantitie of worldly goods, or by any honour and duety done to man, or by any felicitie, or happie successe in this world, so to eleuate the minde of man with such stately pride, that he will not acknowledge himselfe to be a mortall man, but com­maund himselfe to be honoured as an immortall God. Truely, I had thought the mettall whereof man is made, coulde not [Page] haue yeelded foorth that minde: but surely in mine opinion, they haue neither the gift of temperance, nor of any other vertue, that so farre runne beyond the bounds of reason: clyming for that which their mortall carkases shall neuer attaine vnto. Truely I am hardly perswaded, but that the very nature of man it selfe, would abhorre and detest such a mightie error, and most monstrous sinne. Wherefore my request is, that you espe­cially would vnfould and relate this at large, as the most ne­cessariest note to man of all the rest.

Fame.

Doubt not my friend, but that the proud minde of man hath aspired as high as the heauens, coueting the place of a God. Nay, haue thought themselues in the very place of the highest, commaunding themselues accordingly to be adored and worshipped. Neither could diuers proud kings of ye earth, abide to heare of their mortalitie. For the Lacedemonian king Pausanias, being bidden to a banquet, Simonides, a learned Po­et of Gréece,Eli. lib. 4. being at the same time thether also inuited, who was requested by Pausanias the king, that he shoulde speake somewhat which sauoured of wisdome, wherein he might take pleasure. Whereat the good old man laughed, and said, Tunc memento te hominem esse. Then remember thou art a man. But Pausanias tooke it in very hard part, that he saucily woulde vn­dertake to tell him of his mortalitie, accounted Simonides but a foole for his labour, thinking him to be drunke, or not well in his wittes. But not long after, this proud king was taken pri­soner in a great battaile, and was committed to a strong prison in Chalciaeco, where he was miserably starued to death. But be­fore he died, wrastling with hunger, and fighting for life & death with famishment: further, séeing before his face a most misera­ble, lamentable, and wofull end, remembred vpon a sodaine, the saying of Simonides, crying out with a loud and pitifull voice, thrée seuerall times in this sort, saying; O Simonides, magnum quiddam in tuo sermone inerat, ego vero inani persuasione sum ad­ductus, vt eum nullius momenti putarem. O friend Simonides, in thy watchword was a great and weighty matter included; but as for me, I was caried away with vaine persuasions, and made small account, Plutarchus, de vita Craesi. of thy wise warning. Also, Craesus the rich king of Lydia, because Solon would not account of him a­boue [Page 20] all mortall men then liuing, but rather preferred other ho­nest men, in beautitude and happy estate, farre aboue Crasus, no­thing regarding the huge heapes of money, and mighty masses of treasure which he then possessed. Wherewith he was so ele­uated with pride, that he farre excelled and excéeded all earthly and mortall creatures in his owne conceit. Most sharply repre­hending Solon, for that he so little regarded his mighty power, as to preferre any man in blessed estate aboue him, whom he ought not so much as once to compare with any mortall man: but rather to haue lifted and extolled him to the heauens, and recounted him amongst the Gods immortall. For which his stately pride, and vaine folly, he was accordingly punished, as is before rehearsed. Where he most hartely repented himself of his foolish vanitie. Nay there were diuers kings, which not onely contented themselues with the stately stile of immortall Gods, or satisfied themselues when their subiects both sepera­ted, & made a difference betwixt them, as farre as the heauens from the earth: but also commaunded themselues to be adored and worshipped as the very liuing God, and that all knees should bowe, and be obedient at the hearing of their names: as Nabuchodonozer, the great and mighty King of Babylon, when he perceiued that his power made the worlde to shrinke, grewe so proud that he would be a God on the earth, setting vp his picture or image, commaunding those to be slaine, which would not fall downe & worship it: but see how the high God plagued him most iustly for his proud folly, taking his king­dome from him for a time, to the intent he might know & per­ceiue a difference betwixt the liuing God and his mortall car­kasse, being also transformed to an vgly shape of a beast, whose head was like the head of an Oxe, his feete like to the feete of a Beare, his taile like the tayle of a Lyon, and euerie haire on his bodie as big as an Eagles feather: and he that would be a God before, thinking the earth too vile and base for him to tread on, was now faine to lay his flapping lips to the ground to gather his food, and did eate hay the space of 7. yeres together, being at the last againe restored both to his former shape and dignitie. Alexander Magnus when hee had conquered most part of the world,Plut. de vita Alex. returned to Babylon, holding ther his Parliament, summoning [Page] the Kings of the earth to come and worship the sonne of Iupiter, making such account of himselfe, putting diuers to most cruel death, who would not consent to his vile folly, nor a­dore him as a God: yea and those that were his very friends, who had before time preserued him from death, and also from diuers dangers, which otherwise had greatly annoyed and mo­lested him, hee plagued with most vile torments, because they would not vphold and maintaine his monstrous errour. Not­withstanding (for all these gréeuous punishments) there were that could not brooke his stately pride, but sharply reprehended & laughed him openly to scorne: for the wise Anaxarchus hea­ring that this God fell sicke on some sodaine sicknesse,Dictum A­naxarchi. and that the Phisitions were sent for to him, who ministred purgations vnto him, and prescribed certaine receipts and potions for the recouerie of his health; whereat he floutingly said thus: At deo nostro spes omnis in sorbilatione patellae pofita est? What? is all the hope of our goodly God come now to the sipping of a platter: for in such vessells were the confections and sirops gi­uen by the Phisitions. Further saying after a scoffing manner, It had been necessarie first, that he should haue been Gods fel­lowe, before he presumed to be a God in deed: for so perhaps hee might haue purchased and obtained the good will of the Gods, in attaining to his desired seate. But he scaped not vnpu­nished, to show the difference betwixt God and man, whose mi­serable death is néedlesse to repeate, being before spoken of. Al­so Agrippa the sonne of Aristobolus, Plu de vita Agrippae. after his good successes, by the lewd entisement of his flattering counsailors, and thorough the foolish perswasions of seruants, was cōtent to haue such ho­nour done to him as was due to a God, yea & also to suffer him­selfe to be called by the name of a God, notwithstanding he had before béen taken prisoner by Tiberius, and vsed most cruelly in prison, not like a man, for he was gyued & chayned with mighty chaines to yron. But beeing afterward deliuered by Caligula, who made him King of the Iewes, setting a crowne of golde on his head, giuing him a chaine of golde of the same weight that he had before worne in prison of yron: so that by such sodaine changes, his minde was so eleuated and lifted vp with pride, that he no longer would be man, but suffered himself to be won­dred [Page 21] at by the people as a God, causing himselfe so to bee tear­med and called by his subiects: but in the ende hee was striken with an Angell in the sight of an infinite number of people, wherewith his bodie smelled, and wormes issued out with in­tollerable paines and horrible stench. In the which torments & grieuous paines he looked on his euill counsailors and flattring seruants,Dictum A­grippae. & mors eius. saying; Loe, I whom you called a God, am nowe in the paines of death. And so most miserably hee died. In like sort, Menecrates being but a Phisition, because he had cured di­uers and sundrie diseases to his great fame and commendation did so swell in pride,Eli. lib, 4. that hee called himselfe Iupiter, or Iuuans Pater; this arrogant asse sent vpon a time to Philip king of Ma­cedony, a letter wherein was written this sawcie salutation.Epist. Me­necratis. & respon­sio Philip­pi. Menecrates Iupiter, Philipo salutem, &c. Menecrates Iupiter to Philip sendeth greeting, &c. Whose vaunting vaine the King perceiuing, wrote back againe in this manner and forme folow­ing, Philippus Menecrati sanitatem, &c. Philip Macedo to Me­necrates wisheth well fare, &c. Consulo vt ad Anticyram te con­feras, I counsaile thee to take thy iorney to Anticyra, mea­ning by this drye frump, that the man was moonesick, and be­sides his wittes;Eli. lib. 7. the aforesaide Philip on a time made a sump­tuous and costly banquet whereunto he inuited and bad Mene­crates, commanding his seruants that there should bee a table prouided and set by it selfe in a place seuerall and that a cubbord should be furnished with dew preparation, and swéet perfumes tempered, burned, and scattered against the comming of the said Menecrates, all which costes was expended and laide out to pleasure the fine nosed gentleman, who sat solitarie and alone at a side boorde by himselfe, whilst all the companie that were bid­den guests, tasted of the toothsome cheere and sumptuous feast which wanted no varietie of delicates: but nothing was serued vnto the table where he sat by himselfe: notwithstanding hee held him content for a season, and greatly delighted in the wor­ship and honour which was exhibited to him being in a manner regall; sauing that he was kept fasting, which was after a sorte seruile. But after that hunger griped his guts; and appetite whetted his stomack, insomuch that his téeth watered at the cates he saw brought in, and none fell to his share; then was he [Page] taught by experience that hée was not Menecrates Iupiter, but Menecrates mortalis: and foorthwith he arose from the table and went his way complayning on the iniurie which he suffered, be­ing a bidden guest to that banquet whereof hee not once tasted; thus did Philip cut Menecrates his combe, and detected the mad mans vanitie with a notable flout. King Herod because he stood still to shew himselfe to the people, when they magnified him as a God;Herod. was wonderfullie slaine for his proud minde, for when on a time hée had made a certaine oration in the hearing of a number of people, he so pleased the companie by his eloquence, that they made a great showte and crie: saying, It was the voyce of a God, and not of a man, by reason whereof hée was so eleua­ted and lifted vp with stately pride that he stoode vaunting him­selfe before the multitude, taking himself to be no lesse than they had termed him. For which proud follie, the liuing God to shew that he was but man, did strike him in the presence of them all, in so much that hee died with most grieuous paines, liuing wormes issuing out of his body, to the great terror of all the be­holders: thus dooth the immortal God reuenge himself on those mortall & earthly gods, to make them knowe they are but men and soone shall turne to dust. Yet notwithstanding although they are taught by experience, and daylie do sée most plaine and euidently, that man is mortall both from the Prince and Péere to the poorest people, yet for al that, when they doo perceiue their mortall carkasses must néeds to the ground perforce, they couet to leaue behind them at least, their name and fame to be immor­tall: for which cause they striue mightely in their life time. And truly so in princes it commeth oft to passe, for they are long time remembred either for their vertue, liberalitie, courtesie, pa­tience, and constancie: which no doubt, but is both to the plea­sing of God and drawing on of their successors to imitate & fo­low their vertue. But if their immortall fame bée purchased by their great tyrannie, cruelty, vnsatiable appetites, dronkennes, monsterous pride, or such like horrible vices; no doubt but they haue registred themselues to euerlasting ignomie, and perpe­tuall infamie. But diuers (so that they may after their death at­taine to perpetuall remembrance) care not by what meanes they purchase that immortalitie. For, Herostratus a priuate [Page 22] Citizen, liued not contented, for that no man talked much of him. wherefore he thought that after his death he shoulde be buried in the graue of obliuion,Actum He­rostrati. and fully be forgotten. In so much as whē he heard the dayly fame of worthy men set forth, some for vertue, some for valure: yea and againe, some dayly spoken of for their great crueltie, auarice, dronkennes, and such like vices, whose fame be also perceiued to liue after their death, grew in the end himselfe so desirous of perpetuall remē ­brance, & that his name might come in question, to be as much noted in the Citie as the rest were. But when he had long time studied, and could not bring to passe any notable thing worthy to be talked of, at the last he went priuily and set on fire ye state­ly temple of Diana in the Citie, and vtterly consumed it downe to the ground. Thus when the most sumptuous & gallant tem­ple was so vilely defaced, great inquisition was made in the Citie who should doe that notorious fact, talking much of the matter, but none did know the mā. For which cause Herostra­tus much repining in himselfe, that although the matter was spoken of in euery part of the Citie, yet notwithstanding, his name was in no admiration amongst them. Wherfore he went presently to the Citizens & detected himselfe. For which cause be foorthwith was most cruelly put to death. Then in trueth he was therfore wonderfully spoken of, and is in remembrance at this day.

Scho.

In mine opinion he hath very well deserued perpetu­all remembrance, who was of that mad minde to register such meere folly, to his euerlasting reproach and ignomie, which is worthie to be noted throughout all ages. But it séemeth that the vices of men doe much longer continue, and are of more an­cient antiquitie than their vertues. For a few speciall vices do dimme and ouershadow a great number of good qualities, and shall longer be remembred to their reprochfull infamie, than the other to their praise and merite. We also read of diuers no­table Princes, who by a few inordinate follies, haue drowned a number of their especiall vertues, as most plainly appeareth in your last examples. For what good vertues are to be picked out of the liues of those, that for their madde pride would be ac­counted as Gods on the earth: although indéede diuers good [Page] qualities, and examples of vertue procéede from them before. Yet notwithstanding, this most monstrous pride, obscured and blotted out their meritorious remembrance: shadowing, as it were with a thick and darke veile, their notable vertues from the face of the earth. Therefore I beséech you to vnfold and lay open part of those monstrous vices, which are such enemies, and so repugnant to vertue, which suffereth not the worthie fame of man to rise and flourish, but croudeth, and thrusteth it downe into the darke graue of obliuion, wherein is drowned his wor­thie merites, by the ouerflowing of his foolish follie.

Fa.

There is remaining in man (my good friend) manie no­table vices, and sundrie misgouernments, which are altogether repugnant to vertue; as the vnsatiable pride of the minde, which is alreadie spoken of, as the most monstrous folly and vice in man. The filthie vice of drunkennesse is also most odious & de­testable, and a great enemie to the quiet gouernment of man,De ebrieta­ [...]e. it bringeth also with it manie vexations, troubles, enormities, & great incōueniences, being a disturber & daily breaker of peace­able amitie and friendly tranquilitie, purchasing both reproach­full rebukes and sharpe reprehensions in their life time, and al­so perpetuall infamie & euerlasting ignominie after their death. For as it is most certainly reported,Sextus Au­relius de vi­ta Bonosij. that Bonosus a Romane Emperour was such an excéeding quaffer and bibber of wine, that Aurelius writeth of him in this sort, saying, that Hee was not borne to lead a life, but to lift a pot. In the end, for his mis­gouernment by reason of his vnsatiable quaffing, he was disin­herited of his Empire by Probus, who succéeded him: for which cause he went and most shamefully hanged himselfe; who be­ing beheld of manie, they scoffed and flouted at him, saying, It was a tankard or wine pot did hang there, and not a man. In like sort, Tiberius the 3. Emperour of Rome, delighting in such inordinate quaffing and sucking of wine,Aur. de Ti­berio. and being so immode­rately taken, would lie so disorderly drunke, that his owne sub­iects reproachfully and despitefully termed him (whose name was Claudius Tiberius Nero) to be, Caldius Biberius Mero, which is, a most monstrous quaffer and gréedie deuourer of li­quor. Also Philip King of Macedonia, sonne to Amintas, and father to Alexander the great; who although he had manie good [Page 23] & most singular vertues, yet notwithstanding the vice of drun­kennesse so drowned all the rest of his good qualities and curte­ous behauiours; that the reproach of one vice was more often spokē of after his death, to the great slaunder of his noble acts, than all the rest of his most worthie merites could be noted to his euerlasting praise. His propertie was (being either in gar­rison or camp) after a banquet or merrie making, his head som­what drowned in wine, as his common custome was, would set out on his enemies, and fight with them presently in that braue moode; which often turned to his great losse, and also made his bodie receiue manie a wound, which easely he might haue pre­uented in his sobernesse. In his drunkennesse he was alwayes found a truce breaker, kéeping neither promise nor faith which before he had plighted: insomuch as on a time being demanded why he kept not the league which he was sworne vnto at Me­litus, which indéed he had broken being in his accustomed folly, and not much better when hee was asked the question.Dictum Philippi. Tush (said he) as children are trained & beguiled with trisles, euen so are men to be deluded and mocked with oaths. Of which dooings and sayings, being sober he would greatly repent him­selfe, and gouerne his procéedings wonderfull wisely. For at what time he had gotten a great victorie & conquest against the Athenians at Cheronea, doubting least that he should grow too proud of this his great good hap, prouided a bridle to kéepe vn­der such inordinate pride, causing a boy euerie day in the morn­ing without fayling to come to his chamber dore calling aloud saying, Philip remember thou art a man mortall. Thus he v­sed to heare the boy thrice euerie morning before he would per­mit or suffer anie suters or others whatsoeuer, to tread ouer his chamber threshold, or come néere his presence. Hee was also a man of great humilitie and patience; for on a time the Athe­nians sending an Ambassade to him, whom he patiently heard: and at their departure said; Know ye (said he) anie thing wher­in I may be beneficiall to you, or your countrey: for that I greatly desire both to pleasure your selues, and also to doo the Towne of Athens some good. Democrates at that time being companion in the Athenian ambassage, said; Yes mary Philip, if thou wilt hang vp thy selfe. Which answere sore [Page] troubled his companions. But Philip most gently and coollie answered, saying; Say ye to the Athenians, that they which for anger cannot abstaine from such words, are much prowder of courage than they which suffer it spoken without punishment, and doe easilie digest so proud an iniurie. He had also like pa­tience at Meton. For when he had long besieged the Citie, and could not get it, at last he gaue a sharpe allarme, and fierce as­sault on the Citie. In which conflict he lost his eye, to his great griefe and paine. But when the Citizens of Meton humbly re­quested mercie at his hands when their towne could holde out no longer, he (notwithstanding his gréefe and great iniurie) remitted their trespasse vpon their duetifull submission. In iu­stice also (when he was sober) he was very vpright: for on a time sitting in iudgement, and hearing a matter in controuer­sie before him, taking at that time litle regard what was spo­ken, and sometime stumbring, at the last gaue iudgement a­gainst one Machetas, who crying out with a lowde voice, saide; O Philip I appeale. Whereat he being sore moued, with an angrie looke said; To whom doest thou appeale? I appeale (said Machetas) to Philip being thorowly awaked, and not to thee, O king, when thou sleepest. Whereat he thorowly awa­king himselfe, perceiued that Machetas had manifest wrong, after that he had heard the matter openly explaned and related: geuing thereunto good eare what was spoken. Yet notwith­standing, by no meanes he would reuerse his iudgement, but the summe of money wherein he was condemned, he paid it of his treasure himselfe. Yet againe in the ende he fell to his accu­stomed cuppes, forgetting himselfe, satisfiing his gréedy appe­tite in vnmeasurable swilling and bibbing: insomuch, that when Pausanias, a lusty young Gentleman, came to him to complaine of a great and vile iniurie which he had suffered by one of the kings noble-men, when he was but a youth and kept in the Court by reason of his nonage. And now crauing for iu­stice and equitie at his hand, and to stand an vpright king, and iust gouernour betwixt them both. The abuse was, Attalus a noble-man in the Court, which was then counseller to Philip the king, had taken the youth Pausanias, being a propper yong boy, to his house; where he ordeyned a costly banquette, vpon [Page 24] purpose making Pausanias dronken, and afterward abused his body most filthely, after the detestable maner of the Sodomites. Which vile villanie the youth tooke gréeuously, and now being at mans estate, came to the king to complaine of this most mō ­sterous abuse which Attalus had offered him being but a boye. Whereat Philip (being at that time as it séemeth somewhat merry in his cuppes) deriding and mocking him for his labour with great laughter, nothing entering into the cause of the a­buse. Wherewith Pausanias being sore moued, finding no re­dresse of the king who shoulde haue shewed him true iustice. Wherefore he turned his anger from Attalus to the king him­selfe: and as Philip came walking along in the middest of his friends, not once suspecting the matter, this Pausanias stabbed him thorow with a sword. So that Philip the king of Mace­donia forthwith died. Thus ended this Prince by not ministring true iustice to his Subiects, which especially procéeded by his accustomed folly in such excessiue quaffing, who otherwise might well haue béen called the good Prince of Macedonia. In like case his sonne Alexander, surnamed the great, nothing di­gressing from the steppes of his father Philippe, Eli. lib. 3. but rather excelled him in this vile and detestable qualitie of quaffing. insomuch, that it is certainly reported of him, being frée and at libertie from warre, or at least hauing but a time of leasure from his affairs, would so continually vse and frequent immoderate swilling and inordinate sucking of wine,Ebrietas A­lexandri. that a man shuld hard­ly finde him sober, but more like a beast than so noble a King. For vpon the first day of one month (as the report runneth) he drunke so much at Eumenes Mannor, that hee was quite ouer­come, sleeping out his beastly surfet all the next day, wherein he did nothing at all but rise a little from his dronken pillowe, and gaue commaundement of the morrowes voyage, saying, that it should be the next morning at the spring of the day. The 7. day of the same month in like sort, hee feasted at the Lord Perdicas his house, at what time he so pampered his panch like an Epi­cure, with choyce of cheere and change of wines, ouer drinking himselfe in such vnsatiable sort, that al the 8. day next following was consumed in drowsie sleepe. Furthermore vpon the 15. he fell to wine bibbing againe, and spent the next day after in [Page] sleepe to digest his surfetting folly. The xxiiii. daye of the same moneth he supped at Bagoas table, whose Pallaice was distant from the Court aboue 10. furlongs: there swallowing wine as swine doo their swill, was consequently dronke after a most odi­ous and detestable manner, not ceasing vntil his vnmeasurable appetite had abused and ouer loaded his vital senses, insomuch that drowsinesse and sleepe followed his intemperance succes­siuely. Againe this is also remembred of him, that at what time (in the honour of Calanus Brachmanus the Indian Sophister, who burned his owne bodie to powder) he appointed games of musique, games of wrestling and such like spectacles; being de­sirous to shewe the Indians a pleasure. Adioyning to those for­mer pageants the vsuall practise of himselfe, which was a com­mon game of swilling wine, and troling the cup and the can frō hand to mouth, wherein hee that did best receiued for reward a whole talent; the second receiued for his guerdon 30. li. and the third receiued the summe of 10. li. for a recompence of his labor. In this exercise none could carrie away the spurres from him, he himselfe was so peerlesse in Poto, potaui, & potatus sum, In troll the boale to me. But see what consequently followeth such vnsatiable swilling, but onely mad drunkennes, wherein he oft committed most shamefull and horrible déedes, which after hee most heartely repented: for at such time as in his warres hee had gotten and atchieued to his glorie,Iustin. li. 12 manie great and nota­ble victories, he commaunded a solemn banquet to be prepared, inuiting thether all his Princes and Nobles, to reioyce and bee merrie with him for his great and happie successes, finding oc­casion at that time to extol himselfe to the heauens, being in his cups, in which fond vaine he would not that any man should be compared to his mightinesse, but still maintaining his owne proud argument, saying, that there was no comparison with A­lexander; to whose arrogancie the most part of the Nobilitie consented after a most flattering and pleasing manner. But in the end, one of the most grauest counsailors, and chiefest Noble man, whom Alexander held full déere, hearing the great vani­tie of his Lord, in boasting himselfe after such a ridiculous sort, put foorth himselfe, and maintained the noble acts and déeds of King Philip, father to Alexander his Lord, extolling also his [Page 27] praise and worthines; meaning therby to make Alexander per­ceiue, that there were, or else in time might be as worthie & va­liant men as himselfe, not thinking he should offend the K. his master, by setting foorth the praise of his father Philip. But A­lexander being in a great rage that he preferred him not before all men, so fretted at the cause, that he snatched a weapon from one of his gard, and there to finish vp the banquet, he thrust his olde friend Clitus thorough that hee presently died, reioycing ouer the dead bodie of his slaine friend, kicking and spurning the carkasse, vauntingly saying; Now praise my father Philip, and extoll his actions, and let the merites and worthinesse of Alexander thy master passe. But after he had long behelde the body of his deare frend, his minde being somewhat quieted and pacified, and in the place of mad anger, milde and coole cō ­sideration had entered, calling to mind the person whom he had slaine, and also the cause why he slew him, he at last began great­ly to repent the déede, in that he had so vilely taken the praise of his father,Alex. se val­dè penitet. and slaine his olde friend so dishonorably in his dron­ken mood: turning now his anger into repentance, taking it so heauely, that he would die for sorow, there was no remedy, be­ing so mightely ashamed of his folly. First of all falling into most pitifull wéepings casting himselfe on the carkas of his dead friend; imbracing the corps, féeling & handling the wounds which he had made in his frantique moode, filling them with his teares, making most pitifull and lamentable moane, as if the carkasse should haue heard his sorowfull outcries, pluck­ing out the weapon, turning it to his owne brest, and woulde foorthwith haue slaine himselfe, had not the standers by hindered and preuented his purpose. Then also came to his minde his Nurse, who was sister to this Clitus whom he had so cruelly slain, being greatly ashamed, that he should requite and recom­pence her paines for nourishing and bringing him vp, with the slaughter of her deare brother, by him most shamefully slaine. These considerations caused him to remaine in that obstinate minde, to die, and not to liue any longer: for that also at ye same time (to increase his sorow) he called to minde the slaughter of many other right noble and valiant men, which he had before slaine in his dronkennes: as namely, Parmenion, and Philo­tas, [Page] Aminthas and Attalus, Eurilochus, Pausanias, with diuers other noble Macedonians, the shame and griefe whereof did so gripe and pricke his gilty conscience, that by no meanes he would be perswaded, but that foorthwith he would die for the great griefe thereof conceiued; continuing certaine dayes fol­lowing in such sorow, that he would receiue no foode or suste­nance to preserue his life, not suffering his noble-men to dis­swade him from his purpose: but remayned in that obstinate minde for a certaine space, notwithstanding his whole army came to him with pitifull cries, praying & beséeching him, that he would not so sorow at the death of one, as thereby to lose all the rest of his army, which he had now conducted and brought so farre from their home, into strange Regions, and barbarous Countreis, amongst fierce and cruell people. Yet for all this, their humble petitions toke none effect, vntill the wise Philoso­pher Calisthenes (who before had been fellow scholler with A­lexander vnder Aristotle their Tutor) tooke on him with wise precepts of philosophy to alter and turne the mind of the king his deare friend. And in the end, by his great paynes and indu­strie brought it to passe, thorow the familiar acquaintance and auncient loue which had been by their long felowship. Nowe the couragious minde of Alexander being stirred vp by the good perswasions of his deare friend Calisthenes, in so much that he presently againe fell to warre, and conquered many kingdomes, whereby he grewe to such hautie pride, after the maner of the proud Persians and Parthians, as is before spo­ken of: for then, Non salutari, sed adorari se iubet. He would no longer be worshipped as a man, but adored as a God. For which cause when diuers of the noble Macedonians woulde haue disswaded him from that foolish follie, he put them to most cruell and strange death and torments. But then againe Cali­sthenes thought to perswade Alexander from such a mighty er­ror, bearing himselfe somewhat bolder on the king than ye rest, both for his approued wisdome, and holesome counsaile, which the king often had tried and felt, as also on the auncient fami­liaritie, and long acquaintance which had been betwixt the king and him, so that he began earnestly to disswade him from this arrogant and fond vaine. But Alexander being so puffed [Page 26] vp with pride, and desiring so vnmeasurably to be a God, that he would not heare the admonition and wise counsell of his ap­proued frend,Iustin. l. 15. but was wonderfully moued against him for his labour: in so much that he caused him, who before had preser­ued and saued his life,Actum hor­ribile. to be most miserably martyred: cutting off his nose, lips, eares, hands, and other members of his body, to the pitiful paine and great deformitie of poore distressed Ca­listhenes: commaunding him also to be cast into a most vile and stinking dike or pit, there to languish vntill he died. But the noble Lysimachus greatly pitying the miserable paine & foule deformitie of the wise Philosopher, gaue him poyson, whereby he ended his grieuous smart. Wherewith Alexander being greatly offended, caused the said Lysimachus to be throwen into the Lyons denne, to be deuoured of those cruell & fierce beasts. Notwithstanding, he was deliuered by the mighty hande of God, which as the common saying is, was no gramercie to the King.

Scho.

O most barbarous and vnciuill déede. But what o­ther fruites are to be expected or hoped for at the handes of such immoderate quaffers, and vnsatiable suckers of wine, than (in recompence of their good seruice) such cruell and outragious dealings? Truely sir, as you haue said, either he was wonder­fully drowned in the pride of the Parthians, or els miserably o­uercome in his accustomed swilling, for otherwise such barba­rous crueltie could neuer haue procéeded from temperate go­uernment. The most wise and learned Erasmus hauing some­what touched and nipped the monstrous vice of dronkennesse, at last to make manifest that such horrible beastlines was vntol­lerable, and mightely detested, meaning to quippe the whole companie and crewe of such vnsatiable ale-tasters, concluded in the end with this saying;Aphthoni us de casti­gatione e­briorum. Vereor plurimum ne quisobrij sunt operam hanc meam in ebrios dicendi, ceu superuacaneam rideant dicent enim sobrijs castigatione hac nihil opus esse. Ebrios autem sic vino sepultos, vt nullius vocem exaudiant, &c. I feare me greatly saith he, lest the wise and sober will deride and laugh at this my superfluous and needles paines, in speaking so farre against dronkards. For they may say there needeth no repre­hension or castigation to the sober, and persons of good go­uernment. [Page] And as for those that are dronke, they are so buri­ed in wine, and so drowned in their filthie folly, by keeping companie with such good cup-companions, that they cā heare no mans voice, vnderstand no admonition of the wise, per­ceiue no rebuke or sharpe reprehension. Therfore saith he, as the body of a dead man doth seeme not to be stirred by pric­king or sharpe pinching, so in like sort, no maruell though the mind and sense of a dronken man can by no honest warnings or good meanes be stirred vp, or brought to amendment, for that his whole pleasure and delight is in such gulling & swil­ling. That most commonly, as Erasmus saith; Neque pes neque manus satis suum officium facit. Neither feete nor handes can wel do their office. The legs not able to support and beare the weight of his body, nor his handes with the help of a staffe a­ble to support himselfe, but that he tumbleth and walloweth in his owne vomit, and filth, more like a beast then man: which most filthie vse and order, the wise Seneca perceiuing,Seneca. Ebrieta­tem nihil ait esse, quam voluntariam insaniam, said that Drun­kennesse was nothing else but a voluntarie madnesse and wil­full fransinesse; which with good gouernment might easily bee auoyded and shunned: saying further, that Nothing did more better become and beautifie man than sobernesse: so in like ma­ner, nothing did seeme more filthie nor more to be detested than a drunken man, as alreadie you haue set downe and manifested as it were to the beholders eye, showing the wilfull folly, & de­sperate madnesse, which the vnsatiable bibbers of wine, doo ouer rashly commit to their euerlasting reproach and ignomie, & also in the end to their great sorrow and displeasure: for it doth not onely cause their infamie to bee perpetually registred, but also their owne hands to commit most horrible and shamefull mur­ders, whereby they oft embrewe themselues in the bloud of the innocent and hurtlesse person, which no doubt but in the end is most sharply punished on the committers.

Fa.

My good friend, first I beseech you to marke diligently our purposed procéedings, then shall you right well perceiue to what end our conference tendeth, and also to note that hee who liueth not in contentmēt, dooth runne headlong to vnsatiable co­uetousnes, from that gréedie appetite to monstrous pride; from [Page 27] that intollerable vice to most lasciuious and licentious liuing; from that vile and detestable sinne to most odious and filthie quaffing and imimoderate bibbing; which bad life and disorde­red gouernment, dooth soone purchase to the practisers thereof most condigne punishment, as by our aforesaid conference doth most euidently appeare: were it possible that the bloud of the innocent should not be reuenged, or that the murthering hand should scape vnpunished: No, there is no doubt, but that the li­uing God dooth aswel plague the Prince and péere as the mea­nest person for such cruell and tyranous déeds, & will be sharp­ly reuenged on their intemperancie. For first it is to be conside­red, that for lack of temperance man runneth headlong to those wilfull murders, either by an ouer coueting mind, or by despe­rate quarrelling, or otherwise beeing ouercome by inordinate swilling and vnsatiable quaffing of liquor, al which proceedeth through the default of the aforesaid gift. Iezabel wife to Ahab King of Samaria, when ye King her husband had required Na­both to part with his vineyard, which lay verie conuenient for his vse, profering him as great possession in some other place, but Naboth denying his sute as a thing vniust, saying, God for bid that I should passe ouer my patrimonie which my Father left me: but be contented therewith, and leaue it to my sonne, as it was left me. Wherewith the king being not content went home sorowing, remaining verie pensiue and heauie for that he could not lawfully or without great shame take away the vine­yard of Naboth: but when Iezabel fully perceiued the cause of the Kings sorowing and heauines, she directed letters to ye Ru­lers of ye place wher Naboth dwelt, making them priuie of her bloudie practise, wishing and commaunding them to proclaime a fast in their Citie, and then to hire and suborne two witnes­ses, that should falsely accuse him before the Iudges, and pre­sently therevpon to lead him out of the Citie, and stone him to death: which cruel doome and execrable murder was forthwith accordingly executed. But notwithstāding, although for a time reuengement was deferred, yet could she not scape vnpunished: for so soone as Iehu was annointed King, he was straightly cō ­manded from the verie mouth of God, to persecute the house of King Ahab with great crueltie, and not to leaue anie one li­uing [Page] that should pisse against the wall; wherefore he presently warred on the Citie of Iezrael, and spoiled the house and frends of Ahab, vntill he came where Iezabel lodged, who was most cruelly vsed, in consideration of her former trespasse: for she was throwen and tumbled downe headlong from a lofty win­dow to the hard pauements of the stréete, wherewith her bloud sprong about the postes and walles of the stréet, so that dogges came and licked vp her bloud, and eate her flesh, the rest being troden to durt with horseféete and marching souldiers: inso­much that there remayned no more vnspoyled and defaced, but onely the palmes of her hands. Thus was Iezabel most cru­elly slaine and miserably vsed by the very commaundement of God, for the murdering and sheading of innocent bloud. Also Olimpias wife to Philip the Macedonian king, and mother to Alexander the great, cōmitted diuers most horrible & shame­full murthers:Diodorus Siculus. fol. 253 namely, first it was suspected and layd to her charge the consenting to the murther of her husband king Phi­lip, who was slaine by the hande of Pausanias. For after this Pausanias had trayterously slaine the king her husband, & had receiued iust punishment for his villanie, she openly mourned for the death of the said murtherer. And also it was well knowē that she had prouided horses ready against the deede was com­mitted, to the end the slayer of her husbande might the better escape. Further, when his body did hang on the galous, she came thether the first night and crowned the dead head of Pau­sanias with a crowne of gold, taking also the carkasse from the trée, burying it most nobly, and made a famous Tombe in the same place for his remembrance. Which causes being thorow­ly considered, can import no otherwise than an accessary and guilty mind. This Olimpias after the death both of Philip her husband, and Alexander her sonne, in the time that the Ma­cedonian Princes, and successors to her sonne Alexander, did contend and striue for the superioritie and regiment of their dead master, came down into Macedon with a great power, to warre on Philip king thereof, and Euridice his wife, who at that time were lawfull inheritors of that kingdome, and gaue them battaile: In which conflict she tooke the King prisoner, and all his whole familie. But Euridice his wife fled for her [Page 28] safetie into the Citie Amphipolis, where not long after she al­so was taken. Then seised Quéene Olimpias into her hand, all the whole Realm of Macedon: howbeit she very vngently en­treated these her prisoners. For first she caused the king and Euridice his wife to be put into a straite prison, that they could hardly turne themselues within, and had their meat geuen thē in at a little hole: but after they had béen there awhile thus mi­serably dealt withall, Olympias perceiuing that the Macedo­nians for very compassion they had of the said captiues, greatly maliced and hated her, wherefore she caused King Philip by certaine souldiers of Thrace to be slaine, after he had reigned king sixe yeares and foure moneths. And for because that Eu­ridice not well digesting her shamefull crueltie in so treache­rously betraying her dead husband, and also somewhat insolent­ly spake, & said that she had better right and title to the crowne and realme of Macedonia than Olympias had: she therefore either without regard of the late dignitie royall that the sayd Euridice had béen in, or yet the common mutability & variety of fortune, sent her three liberall gifts to make her choyse thereof: which was, a sword, a halter, and poyson, to end her life withal, who of necessitie was forced to take one. Thus whē the wofull Queene, had receiued this present of Olympias, seeing no re­medie, but that needs she must take and accept of one, she said, The Gods graunt like choyce to this cruell Olympias, and that she may receiue like guerdon for her liberalitie heerein. Thus when she had adorned the bodie of her husband Philip slaine in her presence, and stopped vp the wounds to couer the deformi­tie of them; then refusing the aforesaid presents of the curteous Queene, in the best manner she could with her own girdle strā ­gled her selfe, and so died. Yet was not Olympias satisfied with these lamentable and execrable murders, but soone after she had thus shamefully put them to death, she made Nicanor Cassan­ders brother to be slaine, and spitefully defaced the tombe of Io­las his other brother. Ouer and besides this, she picked & wee­ded out an hūdred noble men of Macedonie, which were frends to Cassander, and caused their throates to be cut: for which cru­ell and barbarous deed, Cassander being moued, gathered an Armie minding to reuenge himself on the Queen for her great [Page] crueltie, and draue her at the last to the Citie Pidue, where hee besieged her long, vntil such time that vittaile failed her: yet not­withstanding she would not yeeld, although both her company and the Citizens dyed wonderfully by famine and greeuous plagues; which chanced to them, by reason of the dead bodies which lay in the town diches vnburied most horribly stinking: insomuch that there dyed daily in the towne through these two causes aforesaid, verie many citizens and soldiors. Being also forced thorough extreame and miserable hunger to feed on the dead carkasses of the pined men. The townesmen seeing theyr lamentable estate, yeelded vp the Citie against Olympias will, and humbled themselues willingly to the mercie of Cassander. Then after this Queen was taken prisoner, Cassander caused all the friends of them whom she had murdred, to accuse her in the common place of iudgment before the assembly of the Ma­cedonians. Which thing they accordingly did: where the Ma­cedonians in the absence of Olympias hauing there neither any patrone or aduocate to defend her vniust cause, condemned her to death. For execution wherof Cassander sent 200. of his tru­stiest souldiers to kil her, which entered her Pallace where she was. Streightway so soone as she perceiued them comming, she marched couragiously toward thē, willing them to execute their office. With which boldnes the souldiers were all astoni­shed, sauing certaine of the friends of those whom she had slain before, which stabbed her thorow the body, whereof she present­ly died. Yet this manly courage is to be noted in her, that af­ter she felt the wound to be mortall, and that she fainted, ready to yeeld vp her life, she nesled her garmentes about her body, plucking downe her neather skirts to her féete,Iustin. li. 14 hauing a womā ­ly care in all respects, least that by striuing with life and death, she might showe or vncouer the vndecent parts of her bodie. Thus dyed the mightiest Princesse vnder the heauens, for a iust reuenge of her former cruelties and merciles murders; she was daughter to Neoptolome King of Epyre, sister to Alexander then King of Epyre, wife to Philip King of Macedon, mother to Alexander the great: and yet for all these high and mightie alliances, the liuing God would not suffer her to scape vnpuni­shed, but caused such measure to be giuē to her, which she before [Page 29] had meated to other. In like sort Agrippina daughter to the no­ble Germanicus, first being maried to Domitius, & had by him Nero, Plu. de vita Neronia. and afterward was married to Claudius, whom she poy­soned with his sonne Britannicus, to ye end she might make her first sonne Nero Emperor; which indéede came accordingly to passe: but now her sonne Nero being Emperour, & possessing the crowne, by meanes of his mothers bloudie act; whether it were that the liuing God would not suffer her to scape vnpuni­shed, or the wicked inclination of Nero; but howsoeuer the case stood she receiued like reward; for her son caused her to be most cruelly tormented, commanding her wombe to be opened & cut vp, that he might sée the place wherein he lay: and in the meane time while she was suffering such miserable torture, he gaue so little regard to the wofull mournings & pitifull cries of his na­turall mother, that he played on a cistern ye destruction of Troy, and sung most pleasantly to his instrument. Notwithstanding although he was ordeyned to scourge and plague his mother, for the aforesaid horrible fact, yet scaped not hee vnreuenged for so vile a déede. For when he had a time raigned in Rome, perse­cuting the guilties and innocent, the Romanes at last detesting his bloudie disposition, séeing yt his whole delight was in tor­menting his natiue Country men, began so deadly to hate him for his crueltie, that by the whole consent of the Romanes, the Senate decréed this sharpe sentence against him, Vt more ma­iorum, collo in furcā coniecto, virgis adnecem caederetur: his neck being fastned in a yoke or forke, after the vilest order, (which was a most monstrous reproach, and seruile slauerie, amongst the Romanes) should be beaten to death with rods. But Nero hauing intelligence of their decrée, fled in the midle of the night out of the citie, taking with him not past one or two of his lewd cōpanions, who also perished with him for feare of the Romans. Thus being scaped from the punishment which was appointed for him, he now determined to die a desperate death, requiring one of his friēds which was with him to stab him through with his sword, that he might ende his miserie. Who when he had denied his sute as a thing vniust,Aurelius fol. 153. Nero cried out saying; Itanè nec amicum habeo, nec inimicum: dedecorosé vixi, turpius peri­am. Surely, neither haue I friend nor enemie, (meaning no [Page] friend in the Citie, to defend his cause; nor enemie nowe with him to ende his life) I haue liued vilely, I will perish as filthe­ly: and therewithall thrust himselfe through, and so died. Thus miserably ended Domitius Nero, after hee had reuenged the cruell murther which his Mother committted, and in the ende himselfe was driuen to the same shoare, and forced to arriue at the same Port of miserable Destinie, to be cut off with vntime­ly death for his most vile slaughters and cruelties. Also Ari­stobulus, sonne to Hircanus, vnnaturally committed to prison his mother, and his brother Antigonus, and after most cruelly slew his said brother in prison; for which grieuous offence, God so strake him, that all his bowells rent in his belly, and hee vo­mited vp all the bloud in his bodie, and so most pitifully he dy­ed in recompence of his former crueltie. In like manner, An­tiochus Illustris sonne of the great Antiochus, did also imbrew his hands in the bloud of his friends. For giuing his sister in marriage to Ptolomaeus King of Aegypt, and vnder pretence of familiaritie came to visite his brother in lawe, vnder the cou­lour of alliance, and that he might by treacherous meanes take from him the Kingdome of Aegipt: and finding him sitting at supper saluted him with his sword, which presently he thrust through his sides: thus traiterously he slewe his brother Pto­lome, and ceazed on all Aegipt to his owne vse. And after hée had done manie other cruelties, at last hee was striken with a most horrible sicknesse, that his bodie stanke, and his flesh was so corrupt and putrified, that no bodie could abide the sauour therof, liuing wormes créeping and scrauling out of his bodie: insomuch, that in his great extremitie, hee was forsaken of all his friends and seruants, and so died; as a iust recompence for his villanie. It is farther well knowen, that Archelaus King of Macedonia was murthered by the hands of Crate­nas his Paramour, who sore thirsted after his said kingdome: which shamefull act beeing committed, and Cratenas placed in the regall Throne, according to his long desire, raigned King not past thrée or foure dayes, but was himselfe slaine in sembla­ble manner by other mens meanes, whereunto this saying may be well applyed;

Qui struit insidias alijs: sibi damna dat ipse.
[Page 30]Who seeketh other men to insnare,
Nets for himselfe he doth prepare.

So that this man possessed his princely seate but a short space, which he had purchased by wilfull murder. I trust it is very well knowen also to the English Nation, what cruell murders and miserable slaughters were committed by King Richard the third, brother to Edward the fourth, and sonne to the Duke of Yorke, for that the Chronicles doo make mention thereof at large. First bringing his owne brother the Duke of Clarence to vntimely death, then shewing his tyrannie on the Barons and Nobles of the Land; and after that his brother Edward the fourth died, he miserably smoothered the two sonnes of his said brother Edward, which were committed to his tuition and gouernment, not sparing the néerest of his kinne, but imbrew­ing himselfe in their bloud, to the ende he himselfe might pos­sesse the Crowne and Diadem of the Realme: which in deede consequently came to passe. But were it possible that such pi­tifull murders, and execrable slaughters as he committed, both in slaying of the Nobles of the Land, and also in the deprauing of his swéete Nephewes of life and Kingdome, should scape vnreuenged: No truly, it were altogether wonderfull, and ve­rie vnlikely, but that the liuing GOD (who punisheth with shame such shameful murderers) would be sharply reuenged on him for his monstrous crueltie in so slaying of the innocent. For not long after, he was slaine in Battaile by the right noble Henrie Earle of Richmond: where his mangled corpes was laid (being first despoyled of armes and stripped naked) ouer a horse backe, hanging downe in such sort, that the filthie durt and myre did both spot and sprinkle the ill shaped carkasse of this abhorred Tyrant; which was a most odious and detestable sight, yet too worthie a funerall, for so murderous a wretch. This recompence happened to him, for his intollerable cruel­tie. Thus it plainly appeareth, that murder is sharply punish­ed, as well in the Prince and Péere, as in the silliest sot, and poorest slaue: for further proofe whereof, to showe the iust re­uengement of God on meaner personages, this one example shall suffice.

The true and certaine report goeth, that one Macharcus [Page] a sacrificing Priest of God Bacchus, dwelling in Mityline, in his exteriour countenaunce and fauour resembled great gentle­nesse and courtesie, yet in life, manners, and inward practises no man that liued coulde bee more wicked or abhominable. It fortuned on a time yt a certaine soiorner lodged at his house, and committed to his credite a certaine summe of mony in gold: this Machareus being assaulted with auarice, and carried as it were into captiuitie to couetousnesse, makes a hole in a secret place of the temple with a mattocke, and therein hides the gold which he was put in trust withall. After a few dayes were ex­pired, the soiourner desired to haue his own again: vpon which request, Machareus led the man (mistrusting no mischiefe, nor doubting anie danger) into the temple: where, vnder pretence, cloake, and colour to restore the man his right, and hauing (as he thought) opportunitie, time, and place to worke his villanie. murdred the man; which being compassed to his contentation, he tooke vp the golde, and laid the right owner thereof (whome he had iniuriously slaine) in the selfe same place, couering him ouer with earth, and damd vp the pit, in such sort as all things in his thinking were cock sure, perswaded himselfe that as men be deceiued and mocked, so the powers supernall (the eternall God I meane) might be deluded and blinded. But the matter fell out vnhappely inough, and had another euent than was ho­ped for on Machareus part; for after a few dayes were passed, the solemne Seruice and Obsequies of GOD Bacchus (which were yearly) approached, and was celebrated according to an­cient custome: wherein Machareus behauing himselfe after a gorgeous and glorious estate, being verie busie in the festiuall Ceremonie, it chaunced that his two sonnes which were left at home as that day, did imitate their Fathers order in holy ser­uice, in such sort and effectuall manner, that the yonger brother cast himselfe prostrate on the ground, and laid his head vpon a blocke verie méekely, which the elder brother with an olde rustie whinyeard or cankred wood-knife did chop off from the shoul­ders. Anone came in the seruaunts which dwelled in the house, & séeing the childish murder that was committed, gaue a great shoute, making a terrible outcrie and pitifull noyse, as men meruailously confounded and amazed at sight of so strange and [Page 31] bloudie a spectacle. The vehemencie of which lamentable cla­mor and outragious roaring, speedely pearced the eares of the frighted mother, who came like a mad woman to vnderstand the meaning of the matter: and then séeing one of her sonnes slaughtered, and weltering in streames of bloud, and the other holding still a rustie glaue in his hand, & all to be stayned with the crimsen blood of his brothers flesh, she caught vp a firebrand very fiercely, and in the heate of her great rigor did so thumpe and souse her liuing sonne, that he died the death in her pre­sence. Then was tidings brought to Macareus, what butche­ries were committed at home in his priuate house, who imme­diatly vpon the report therof left the holy seruice, & like a man moonesick, or rather a fiend of hell, ranne home with might and maine, hauing in his hand at the same instant a burning torche or taper, where with he did so beate, bounce, and baste his wife ouer euery limme and ioynt, that she in like case was soone dis­patched of life. Thus when the multitude had intelligence of these rare and lamentable murthers, they forthwith apprehen­ded Macareus, and vrged him thorow examination and torment to confesse each circumstance of this bloudy Tragedie: and as he was opening the matter, and discouering the mischief which he had committed in the holy temple, prophaning a seuerall and sacred Chappel, with two notorious and inexpiable trespasses, the paines of death oppressed him, insomuch that he died soden­ly before the whole assembly of people. These miserable chan­ces hapned to Macareus by reason of his monsterous mur­thers, as a terrible and most fearfull example to the followers and imitators of his horrible profession.

Scho.

O miserable ende, and yet deserued hap: no better successe is to be hoped for than such ruine and cruell destruction to those that doe imbrue their hands in the bloud of the innocēt, contrary to the law of God and nature. Besides these your ex­amples, we sée dayly what reuengement falleth to the share of those bloudy minded persons, though their villanies for a time he did, yet in the end the true God will not suffer them to scape vnpunished. For I thinke is no people of ciuill gouern­ment so voyde of good and holesome lawes in this cause, but that they prouide a sharpe punishment for wicked murtherers, [Page] prouided alwaies, that whosoeuer shall transgresse, or willingly breake the saide ordinances and decrées, that then such persons by vertue of the law shall suffer worthy punishment: namely, losse of life. In your exaumples it is also manifest that those whose power and person far excéedeth and surmounteth a lawe, and whose high dignitie disdayneth to stoupe to the law and de­crée of the lande notwithstanding, when neither people nor Péeres may decrée sentence against them for such detestable sin and cruell murthers, the liuing God plagueth them in the ende with most sharp and grieuous punishments without remorse, being much higher aboue them, then they aboue their lawe, whereby it seemeth that if Princes by reason of their high e­state and dignitie, doe escape the punishment and decreed sen­tence of a law, yet the very prouidence of the highest bringeth them in the ende to open confusion & vtter destruction, as your aforesaid examples haue verified it. Further it remayneth to vs, that at what time the people craued answere of the Ora­cles, expecting from thence the very flat determination of their God, heard often most sharpe decrees against murtherers, by their diuine Oracles pronounced: for at such time as a certayne Musicion who played on the harpe singularly well, did both play and sing at Sybaris in a solemne feast, made and set forth in the honour of Iuno, there at that time arose about him a great variance amongst the Sybarites, some saying they neuer hearde his equall, other affirming they haue often heard his Peere and and better thus diuersly contending, in the end it grew amōgst them to be a great quarrell, and the contention could no other­wise be ended but by harnes and weapon, the giltlesse Harper seeing the controuersie like to come to such issue, knowing he had offended neither partie, nor willing to stād in their presence any longer to moue their patience, meekly departed frō thence to the alter of Iuno, thinking thereby to be safe from their fury, but the Sybarites being mightely moued against the originall cause of their argument, though he indeede had nothing offen­ded them, yet notwithstanding some of them ranne to the altar, laying hands on the Musicion, and there without respect of the place, or pitie of his giltlesse person, they with murthering hāds most cruelly slew him. For which monstrous deede their God [Page 32] whom they serued, in signe of wrath, caused the Temple to flowe with bloud like streames of water from a riuer immedi­atly after that slaughter, then the Sybarites sending to the Ora­cle for counsaile in this case of crueltie, receiued this sharpe and bitter answere, saying;

Cede meis mensis manibus nam sanguis adhaerens,
Distillansque recens prohibet tibi limina templi.
Non tibi fata canam, magnae Iunonis ad aram
Musarum innocuum strauisti, caede ministrum.
Non immortales hoc dij patienter inulum,
Si quis enim prius scelerata è mente profectum
Committat facinus, grauis hunc propè poena sequetur.
Non exorabit, neque si genus ab Ioue summo
Duceret ipse suo collo, collísque nepotum
Hoc luit, & generis cumulatum damna ferentur.

Which may be englished after this maner.

My table come not neere, for hands with bloud imbrude
Which floweth fresh, from temple gates doth thee exclude.
Thy fate I will not tell, by Iunos altar thou hast slaine
A giltlesse soule, vnto the muses nine who did retaine.
The immortal gods on this foul fact shall sharp reuengement take.
For he which wilfully offends and doth a mischiefe make
Of mind malicious, torments strong shalbe his hoped hire.
No sute may serue but smart he must, thogh Ioue be blazd his sire
His head, & al his childrens heads, vpō a bloudy block
From shoulders shalbe chopt, ill luck shall light vpō his stock.

Wherefore it is manifest, that the very Oracles cried out, and prophecied reuengement to those cruell murtherers, exclu­ding them from the very thresholde of the holy temple, as men not worthie to treade on sacred ground: yet notwithstanding, the hande of the giltlesse man may shedde the bloud of the in­nocent person against his will, and not be holden as culpable or giltie in murthering his friend; for it is certainly reported, that at what time three young men being all of one City, went to Delphos to aske counsell, and to be aduertised by the Oracle of a weighty cause, falling into the hands of theeues, one of the three tendering his owne life, took his heeles and ranne away, and so escaped peril. Another (after all the villayns were hackt, [Page] he wen, & killed, except one, whom he also inuaded with might and maine) bent his force to haue slayne the theefe which then liued: but it fortuned (ah grieuous chaunce) that as he foyned with his sword at the villaine, thinking to haue thrust him tho­row, he missed his marke, and smote his owne fellow with such a bloudie blowe, that he gaue him his deaths wound. To him therefore that by flight auoyded danger this answere was made by the Oracle, pronouncing him guiltie of the murther of his fellowe, and therefore not worthie to come into holy Temple, saying;

Occidi socium presens & passus amicum,
Non tibi vaticinor, sacro te proripe templo.
Thou being present didst abide thy fellow to be slayne:
To thee I doe not prophesie, my holy place refraine.

And to the other asking aduice of the Oracle, this answere was rendered, for all that his hande had committed the acte.

Defendens socium, verso mucrone necasti,
Purior es manibus nunc quàm esse solebas.
Thou seeking to defēd thy mate, didst kil him with thy blade
Thy hāds thē they wer wōt to be are now much cleaner made

Wherefore it seemeth that the accessarie is in as damnable a case as the executor himselfe, of such villanie: for here the Ora­cle pronounceth him as giltie, and not worthie to stande in the Temple, for seeing his fellow slayn which he might easilie haue saued: being adiudged giltie in this; then much more if he had consented willingly to the murther of his fellowe which was slaine, but thorow his negligence. See againe what a com­fortable answere the other receiued, who committed the slaugh­ter with his owne hand, and for that his mind was free from the very thought to hurt his louing friend and fellow, was adiud­ged by the Oracle the true defender of his slayne friende. To conclude, according to the answere of the Oracle, it is lesser of­fence and easier to be pardoned when the hand doth slaye, the mind being giltlesse, and not consenting to the murther, than if the minde doe willingly stay although the handes cannot exe­cute the acte,Vt ait Cice­ro pro Ros­cio Ameri­no. but suffereth the partie to liue. Solon when he had made many good and holesome lawes, ordeining diuers in­stitutions and decrees in his commonwealth to maintaine and [Page 33] support vertue, and also sharply to correct and reprehend vice, lewd persons, and such disordered fellowes as contrarie to the lawe viciously liued in the weale publique. Hauing thus (as he thought) confirmed and established his Countrey in ciuile go­uernment by the vertue of his decrées and statutes, this questi­on was demaunded of him, saying; Why had he not among so manie good institutions, wholesome lawes, and prescribed di­rections, set also downe, what punishment should fall to the share of those, who with willing consent murdred or depriued father or mother of life, and so should be found guiltie of par­ricide? Whereunto he answered, saying; Truly it falleth out not through negligence and forgetfulnesse heerein: but rather when I had thoroughly considered on the cause, I bethought me, that such offences were mightely repugnant to nature, and therefore it could not be that anie so vnnaturall should com­mit such wicked and detestable villanie, contrarie to the law of God and nature, on those whome first procreated & made them of nothing: and therefore (said he) as a needlesse thing haue I left it out from the other decrees. But the auncient Ro­manes when they had perceiued, that this odious and detestable sinne began to be practised amongst them, and in other Regi­ons and Dominions vnder their iurisdiction and gouernment, (as most commonly the wicked inclination of mans nature is so apt and prone to commit such villanies how far so euer they be repugnant to nature, that no vnnaturall act or villanie can re­maine vnaccomplished) they then séeing such impietie and vn­naturall actions proceed and dayly to go forward among them, that in that behalfe they were forced to constitute and ordayne this sharpe sentence and punishment against all such wicked of­fenders, prouided alwayes that whosoeuer should bee found guiltie of parricide,Pena parri­cidij. should thus be vsed; He should be put into a sacke or hollowe thing, and therein also should be put a Dog, a Cocke, a Viper, and an Ape; which thing beeing shut vp, and closed fast togeather againe, shoulde bee throwen into the next Sea, Riuer, or Floud thereunto adioyning, there most miserably to die in the hatefull companie of those, which by na­ture coulde neuer abide or brooke each other. And wherefore: Et enim ei repentè coelum, solem, aquam & terram adimerunt, [Page] vt qui eum necasset, vnde ipse natus esset, careret quoque ijs rebus, ex quibus omnia nata esse dicuntur. Because hee should want or be depriued of both the sunne, aire, water and earth, for that hee had slaine or murdred him, who first was the cause of his life: therefore he should want the benefite of such necessaries, from whence all things are said to be procreated and ingende­red. For next vnder God, the foure Elements are said to haue the chiefest regiment and gouernment of all naturall and earth­ly things.

Fame.

Well friend, I perceiue that you are héerein certefi­ed, that murder is a most monstrous and hainous offence, and that also from one degrée to another, the wilfull committer sca­peth not vnpunished. For if (as you say) the Oracles haue pro­nounced such sharpe sentence against them, not permitting such to come into the temple: then no doubt but that the liuing God will much more & with farre greater punishment, torment such wilfull and malicious offenders; and therefore (as I say) see­ing you are herein so well satisfied, perceiuing so effectually the tenor of our cōference, I will with a more willinger minde pro­céed and goe forward according to forepassed promise. But I greatly feare me, least that alreadie I haue passed and far gone beyond the bonds of decorum, in being so tedious and ouer trou­blesome in so manie superfluous examples, which well might haue bin related and made manifest in a much more bréefer sort, lesse troubling the eares of the willing hearer whose quick con­ceipt & capacitie, soone by a part coniectureth and discerneth the whole: which error & troublesome cause, I shall right willing­ly be content hereafter to reforme, vsing in the blameable place of tediousnesse, a more briefe and shorter order.

Scho.

Sir then, as I haue said before, you should offer to me great discontentment, for that I as greatly delight in the histo­ries and tragicall reports, as no other conference can so well please me (your intent and meaning therewithall being tho­rowly perceiued) therefore sir I beséech you, not to thinke, that you so farre excéed the bonds of decorum, as that héereafter you should with breuitie discourse of causes, whereby I might re­maine altogether vnacquainted, of so manie especiall notes and good examples, wherein I shall neuer be tired or ouer-wearied, [Page 34] but rather impute that fault to mine importunacie: and so shall you clearely free your selfe from anie such supposed blameable suspition.

Fame.

With verie good will, I shall be content according­ly to procéed, and if you in like manner refuse not to beare the blame of the aforesaid suspition: therefore whereas wee haue alreadie sufficiently touched the mōstrous pride of mans mind, and what in the ende is gained thereby; yet notwithstanding there is another kinde of pride in the garments & wearing ap­parell: for the ancient Prouerbe is,Vetus Pro­uerbium. Per exteriora, interius cog­noscamus, By the outward showe of braue apparell, we may knowe the inward vainglorious minde. But by the way, this rule is no certaine consequence, but as wee sée dooth often faile and deceiue vs: for manie wil weare a braue cloake, whose coate and inward apparel is veluet, I meane pride to be couered with a simple garment, and a méeke and humble minde shadowed with rich aray.Eli. li. 6. The wise Socrates when he marked the state­ly pride of the arrogant Antisthenes for he did alwaies weare the ragged péece of his thredbare cloake outward in sight, bee­ing a wonderful proud minded felow, making show as though he had béen contented with base and homely raiment; being o­penly knowen that he might haue had better if he would, was thus quipped for the pride of his minde, by Socrates; Quin de­sinis, arrogantiam tuam nobis prodere? Wilt thou neuer (saith he) leaue bewraying vnto vs thy vaine pride and foolish folly? As who would say, we knowe the arrogancie of thy minde by this thy counterfet basenesse. Also Diogenes when he was come to Olympia, and sawe certaine yong men of Rhodes, gorgeous­lie decked, and sumptuously apparailed, laughed at them, and said; Hoc nihil est preter fastum; This is nothing els but meere pride and haughtinesse. The same Diogenes againe chancing at the same time to sée certaine Lacedemonians in ragged, rag­ged, rent, riuen, slouenlie and loathsome garments, said; Haec longè alia est superbia: This also is a kinde of pride, but farre different from the former. Laer. f. 586. This also is to be remem­bred, that at what time an auncient and graue Father of Ceus came to Lacedemonia: being puffed vp with pride, and swelling with insolencie, was for his fatherly olde age had in reuerence [Page] and honour: insomuch that he coloured his hoarie head ouer­growen with graye haires. This olde man comming into an Assembly of the Lacedemonians, discouered his head for them to behold, and made a declaration of such matter whereabout he came, But Archidamus King of the Lacedemonians rising vp, said in this wise; What sound or true tale can the tongue of this fellowe report, whose heart is stayned with the spots of hypocrisie and double dealing, and whose head is couloured with counterfet comelinesse? Thus would hee in no case al­low the wordes of the olde man, but vtterly reiecting them, taunted the euill inclination of the olde mans nature, by those circumstances which were obiect to sight, and apparant to the eye.

It is also certainly reported, that Condalus the Lieutenant of Mausolus King of Caria, perceiuing the people of Lysia (wherein hee was Lieutenaunt) to haue a great pride in their trimme bushes and long haire,Plu. de vita Mausoli. on a time fained that he had re­ceiued letters from his Master the King, that the People of Lysia should cut off their bushes of haire, and send them to him. Wherewith (perceiuing they were all astonied, fearing least that they should loose their brauerie wherein they much deligh­ted,) he said, If they would charge themselues with a péece of money, that then he would not doubt, but to finde out meanes, that mens haire should bee bought in Greece, and sent to the King his Master, therewithall to satisfie his minde, and they should keepe and weare still all their trimme lockes and bushes: which follie and pride to maintaine, they presently collected an infinite summe of money, which euerie priuate man disbursed willingly.

Therefore my good friend, we see that this vaine and foolish pride hurteth none so much as themselues: wherefore it is more tollerable than the other though in both verie bad: for the state­ly pride of the minde farre surmounteth the foolish pride of ap­parell (as is before more sufficiently spoken of) the boye with his golden shooes, his gilden pouche, his cap and feather, and such other his childish toyes, thinketh himselfe and peerelesse per­son, thrusting himselfe into the sight and viewe of his compa­nions and childish mates, crauing no other Kingdome or glorie [Page 35] than such peacocks pride, offendeth none nor abuseth any so much, as his owne vaine conceite and foolish fantasie. But the pride of the mind lieth hid couertly, being shrowded and shado­wed in base and simple geare, reaching & catching after king­domes, to the great hurt and preiudice of many. For when as a certain Roman professing méeknes vnder the colour of home­ly garments, being a man of good account in his countrey, and had in great reuerence and estimation, yet notwithstanding would alway goe barefooted, and in wonderfull simple attire, hauing also his table where he dined alwayes couered with a net, to make a further shewe of his méeke minde farre to dif­fer from statelines. By which counterfet humilitie be attained to diuers stately offices among the Romanes which were of great and high dignitie. In the end the Romans thinking none more fitte than he to gouern, by reason of his humilitie & méek­nesse, insomuch that they preferred him to the chiefest seate and highest place of the Roman commonwealth. But nowe being setled in this place of Maiestie, and soundly confirmed in the seat of authoritie, being now come to the very top of his long ho­ped for desire, thought it not good to counterfette any longer with the Romans, but turned his méeknes to most hautie stateli­nes, and in stead of his base attire he had the most gorgeous apparrell and costliest garments, with pretious iewels, & riche stones that might any where be found. And when his seruants came according to their accustomed maner to spread the net on his table where he should féede or dine, thinking that the same méeknes had still been in their master, he said; Away with the net ye fooles, for the fish is already caught.

Scho.

Truely a pretie iest, the fish being caught, to what end serueth the net. The old prouerbe before rehearsed, was not verified in him: for the Romans (belike) trusted ouer much to that olde saying, By the outward shewe ye shall knowe the inward conuersation. Wherein they clearely deceiued them­selues: for after he possessed his place, Honores mutabant mo­res, Honor and dignitie changed his former manners. Surely the stately pride of this man being so secretly couered with meeknes, farre more offendeth than the meek and simple mind whose body is richly furnished with costly apparrell of all vaine [Page] and fond colours. For surely in mine opinion the wearing of such gorgeous and painted garments, with other such plumes of peacocks pride, may well be called a vaine and foolish follie, but no such stately pride as the other: for it doeth represent to the beholder a meere weaknes of the wearers minde, and no deepe conceated fellow, but such a one as had rather stand in the mid­dle of his goods presently, than by any deepe reach or cunning practise to purchase himselfe authoritie or dignitie. Which minde no doubt is altogether hurtles to other, though priuate reproch to his person. There is also a kinde of pride in diuers proudly to vaunt them selues, boasting of their auncient pede­gree, noble parentage, standing on their generositie, as though the noble acts of their auncesters were sufficient to colour, sha­dowe and hide their vaine and lewd life by their vaunting vani­tie, not considering that the good qualities, courteous behaui­ours, and gentle demeanours of a man, maketh him to become a Gentleman: but rather will challenge their gentilitie from their auncient Parents, if any of them had either name or fame by any good vertue or act, although diuers of the same race and stocke, were both wicked, vaine and lewde. This also in my iudgement is in mans nature a proud vanity and ridiculous er­ror. The wise Aristole hearing a certaine man boast & vaunt that he came and descended from a noble and famous Citie, and therefore arrogantly chalenged a kind of duetifulnes to be geuē him by reason of the noble fame thereof,Aristotle. said; Bragge not my friend of that, but first see thou be worthie to be of so noble a Citie, and not digresse from and shame so auncient a stock. Truely they deserue dispraise & extreme laughter, which brag and boast of their progenitors, and thinke themselues trim men because their forefathers were famous. Who was the sire of noble Marius? assuredly no great state: his valiantnes and pui­sance is recorded in sundrie histories, but yet who begat him re­mayneth doubtfull and vnknowen. The same we affirm of Ca­to, Seruilius, Hostilius, Romulus, all notable & puisant péeres in the Roman Empire: neither indeed maketh it any matter frō whence they spring or descende, if their vertue be of sufficient force to defend their parentage. Was not king Darius sonne of the meane man Histaspis, first quiuerbearer to Cyrus, and yet [Page 39] became noble and honourable? The last Darius whom Alex­ander vanquished, was borne of the body of a bondwoman, not­withstanding in the end became a mighty Prince. Archelaus the Macedonian king came of the loynes of Smicha, a poore maydseruant, Menelaus the Grādfather of Philip was nūbred among bastards, and Amintas was but a seruingman, who was grandfather to Alexander the great, and wayted vpon Aeropa. Eumenes had but a poore fellow to his father. Antigo­nus the sonne of Philip first serued for salarie. The great Cap­taine Themistocles was the sonne of a very simple and poore woman named Abrotone. Phocion surnamed Iustus, was at the first but a spoonemaker, or ladlemaker. Also the nobleman Epaminōdas had but a poore and simple man to his father. De­metrius, Phalareus, Hiperbolus, Cleophon, and Demadus des­cended but of poore parentage, and became in the end right no­ble and famous. The learned Lycurgus seeing some of the hau­tie Lacedemonians daily sticking and standing on their ancient parentage and generositie, thereby digressing from good man­ners; made a law, wherein was graunted that such as continu­ed their children in good exercises, which was no lesse profitable to the common estate, then necessarie to their priuate persons, should be called Gentleman, and haue this prerogatiue before others to haue free passage, without interturbance, to offices of dignitie in the Lacedemonian commonwealth. On a time the wise Demosthenes had this cast in his dish, that although he was now a man of great fame, and had in estimation and reuerence, yet notwithstanding, his father was but a base and obscure fel­low, and glad to get his liuing by playing the master of fence, as indeede he was as Valerius reporteth. Whereunto Demo­sthenes was not ashamed thus to reply, saying; Qui parentibus obscuris nati, ad decus praeclarnm virrute propria ascenderunt, non inferiorem laudem merentur, quàm qui nobilitate maiorum su­perbise iactant. Maior enim est gloria virtutibus proprijs niti, quàm alienis intumescere. They which are borne but of meane and base Parents, and rise to high honour by their owne pro­per vertues, deserue or merite no lesse praise, when they which brag and boast of their right noble Progenitors. Therefore far better is that baunt to sticke and cleaue fast to their own proper [Page] vertues, than ouermuch to swell with the pride of another mās glorie. But Iuuenalis reporteth of this mans father otherwise, saying;Iuuenal. Plebeius ab officina gladiorum fuit. He was free of the Cutlers, and liued by that trade. Which also was farre from the credite and calling of his sonne Demosthenes.

Fa.

It is very true indeede, such vaunting vanitie remay­neth in many: but it is very hard to finde such a one as is risen to great honour and dignitie in his Countrey, being descended from meane and base parentage, to vaunt and brag in causes of controuersie, of his poore Progenitors: much lesse ought he who is descended and sprong from the stocke of generositie, be­ing poore or in base estate, ouer proudly to vaunt thereof, for that either his fall was by the vicious vice of his predecessors, wherof he ought rather to blush than brag. Or els it proceedeth of his owne lasciuious or licencious vanitie, whereof he ought greatly to be ashamed. Well let this suffice, that vertue ma­keth a Gentleman, and the want thereof causeth the stock and graffe to wither and fall downe. And whereas we haue alredy sufficiently touched the misdemeanors and bad behauiours of noble Peeres and high estates, and what they gain by such dis­ordered gouernment: now againe we will shew and make ma­nifest how much good gouernment is commended, what praise it deserueth, and what perpetuall memorie it registreth to the eye of immortall fame: and also how farre clemencie, courtesie, humilitie, and mercie in Princes and high estates auayleth and is of force, where neither cruelty, tyrannie, or other rigorous dealing can preuaile. First concerning modestie and the fruites thereof, Demetrius the sonne of Philip king of Macedon, be­ing sent by his father to Rome to answere the greeuous cōplaint of the Grecians, Plu. in uita Demetrij. who made a great & hainous complaint against him to the Romans, for certain abuses which he had offered them in Greece, when this Demetrius was in the Senate of Rome hearing his father greeuously complayned on, would forthwith haue executed the office, for which cause he came, wherefore he stoode vp and began to answere to the accusations which they so vrgently obiected against his father. But the Ambassadors of Greece so vehemently interrupted and interturbed his speach with vnpleasant babbling and rayling, insomuch that the young [Page 37] Gentleman could not be heard by reason of their great impor­tunacie: for which cause, the yong Demetrius being greatly a­bashed, with blushing chéekes in most modest manner sate him down (being greatly ashamed at their outragious railing) plea­ded his cause with silence, because he would not be troublesome to the graue Senators, he gaue the Ambassadors his aduersa­ries leaue to scolde and rayle their fill. Which when the graue Bench of the Senators perceiued, they also commaunded the antragious Grecians to silence, and dismissed them the Senate, suffering them to returne home to Grece without reformation of their wrongs, pardoning the offence of the yong mans Fa­ther, sending letters into Macedon to this effect; Philip King of Macedon, we the Senatours of Rome pardon thine offence, remit the trespasses of thee done against the Cities of Grece: not for thy sake Philip, but for the modest behauiour of De­metrius thy Sonne shewed heere in the Senate of Rome before vs, to the great wealth and good of thy Countrey, and to his perpetuall remembrance. What praise and commendation also did yong P. Cornelius Seipio, (otherwise called Scipio A­fricanus) purchase by his singular clemencie, notable curtesie, and bountifull liberalitie: for at such time as he had taken the Citie of newe Carthage in Spaine, with a number of prisoners & captiues, and also great quantitie of riches and iewells: there at that time also was taken among the rest, a virgine of rare & singular beautie: who with diuers other were brought before Scipio, after whom the people wonderfully thronged and thru­sted, delighting to sée her for the rarenesse of her beautie. But the noble Scipio enquiring of her, of what Countrey she was, and of what kindred she was descended, and perceiuing by her that shee was betroathed or made sure to a yong Prince of the Celtiberians, Polib. li. 10 whose name was Luceius. Whereupon (when he had committed the other Matrones and Maides to right wor­thie & honest persons, to the intent their chastitie might be both honestly and carefully preserued) he presently sent for the said yong man, and also for her parents. At whose comming, know­ing that the yong Prince was sore enamored of her, he thus said to him, Sir, I being a yong man, haue sent for you that are also a yong man, to come to me: the cause is, for that when this yong [Page] maide being fianced or ensured to you, was brought to me by my souldiers, I heard say that you entirely loued her, as her beautie witnesseth you had good cause so to doe. If I might lawfully enioy her pleasant loue, & were not otherwise occu­pied in my minde about the affaires of the Common wealth, I could perchaunce beare her my loue, and desire to enioy the same. But now I will beare fauour to your loue, that of right ought to haue her. She hath been here with me as well and honourably kept, and her virginitie as carefully preserued, as though she had dwelled still with her owne parents, To this intent I might make of her a present to you most acceptable, and also for the preseruation of mine honour. And for this my gift, I require of you but onely this one reward, that is, that you from hencefoorth become a louing, true, and faithful friend to the Romanes, and if you esteeme me to be a good and honourable man, as my father and vncle before me were reputed to be, then thinke that there are in the noble Citie of Rome, many like vnto vs, and trust me neuer, if any people this day can be found on the earth, that you will be more glad to haue the loue and friendship of, or that you would be more sory to haue the displeasure of. The young man after great thankes geuen to him, prayed the Gods to reward him for all his goodnes, where his power sufficed not. Then were the pa­rents of the mayd called foorth, who had brought with them a great summe of golde for the raunsome of their childe. But when they perceiued that the noble Scipio had geuen her fréely to her husband, then they desired him to take and accept a parte thereof, as of their gift, for the better declaration of their good hearts towards him, affirming that his receiuing therof should be as ioyfull vnto them, as the restitution of their daughter vn­defiled. Then Scipio being ouercome with their long and ve­hement intercession, caused the saide summe to be layd on the ground before his feete, and calling Lucius againe to him, hee said; Beside the dowrie that you shall receiue of your Father in law for the mariage of his daughter, ye also shall take this gift at my hande. With which his great gift, and also much honor done to him beside, he returned home to his house & coun­trey, [Page 34] declaring to euery man the honor & magnificence of noble Scipio, saying; There was a young man come most like a God, who both with his power in warre, and also with his gentlenes and liberalitie in peace, had ouercome all the countrey. Not long after, this young Gentleman leauing his house and fami­lie in good order, returned to Scipio, bringing with him 1400. good horsemen to the ayde and succour of the Romanes. Thus first Scipio began with mercy, lenity, and gentle courtesie, which was the cause that he gote in the end to the Romanes such nota­ble and mightie victories. The great Pompey neuer gate the like renowne in all his conquest of Spaine and Affrike, nor in the subduing of the valiant Sertorius, neither in the victories of Armenia, Cappadocia, Arabia, Iberia, Mesopotamia, with di­uers other Prouinces and Kingdomes, as he did by his great courtesie. For when in his warres against Mithridates, he had taken certaine noble matrons, and beutifulll virgins, he caried a vigilant eye ouer them, neither abusing any of them himselfe, nor suffering his captains or souldiers to dishonour or dishonest them in any case, calling them all together before him, comfor­ting them with sweete wordes in the best maner he coulde, say­ing; That none vnder paine of death should offer them villanie, graunting foorth his safeconduct to them, that they might be conueyed to their husbandes, parents and friends with honour vndefiled, richly rewarding them with iewels which he had ta­ken in his warres, protesting also vnto them, that he for his part, was most heartely sorrie that it was his hap so to fright and terrifie such hurtlesse creatures, requesting them to take it in good part, for such was the chaunce and casualtie of warre: for which gentle behauiours, (had it not béen for certaine other lewd vices which are before mentioned) he had attained to péer­lesse praise.

Alexander the great king of Macedon, although hee fre­quented a number of most notable and bad vices, yet were it no reason to burie in obliuion and forgetfulnesse, couering, as it were in the graue of silence, the gentle courtesie and manly pietie which hee showed in most ample maner to the distressed houshold and familie of king Darius. For euen at such time [Page] as the mightie Warres began betwéene these two Princes, In the second Battaile and conflict, Alexander had a great vi­ctorie against Darius and the Persians, taking the tents with all the bag & baggage appertaining to the King and the Persians, and also for a pray (amongst other booties) hee tooke prisoners the mother, wife, sister, and the two daughters of King Darius, his enemie: whome when Alexander came to comfort, bee­ing in great sorrow and distresse: they beholding him comming with an armed troupe, pitifully schritched and lamentably cri­ed out, as if they then should presently haue been slaine: falling downe prostrate at the féete of Alexander, beséeching him that they might before they died, burie the dead bodie of their Lord Darius, whom they supposed to be slaine in that bloudie fight: and that now, wheras he was a man, and had at this time got­ten a most noble and manly victorie against Darius their Lord and King; so to behaue himselfe towards those poore distressed creatures, who were altogether vnguiltie of that pitiful slaugh­ter, being as it were present in the Armie with their friend, for their countreyes cause, and in defence of their libertie, in which also their Lord & King Darius was now slaine: therefore now that he would vouchsafe to bestow the bodie of their slain friend on them, that they might doo to him in their life the rights of bu­riall; and then, said they, O Alexander, our liues be at thy cō ­maundement. Alexander beeing greatly mooued with pitie, séeing their bitter teares, and considering the hard hap and bad destinie of so noble Dames, bewayled their distressed case with wéeping, further comforting them saying, that Darius theyr Lord and King was aliue, and at libertie still with his owne force and power; and although he was ouercome in that fight, yet was he readie to giue newe battaile againe (as in déede hee did) causing them to banish feare from them, for that no iniurie or wrong should happen to them, giuing also commaunde­ment that they should be prouided for and vsed, as to their high estate and dignitie appertained, giuing good words and com­fort vnto the two yong Daughters of Darius, wishing them assuredly to thinke, and firmely to perswade themselues, that hee woulde haue as great care to bestowe them in marriage (if King Darius their father did die and perish in these warres) [Page 39] as he liuing with a fatherly care would prouide for them, and that with no base or obscure mates. Which thing when Darius was truely certified of, and of the courteous entertainement of his mother, wife and sister, being all prisoners and captiues, at the hands of Alexander his enemie, although he then was able to geue battaile to the strongest king of the earth (for he agayne had gathered a most mightie and huge armie) was already o­uercome and conquered with the gentle courtesies of his ene­mie, altogether vnwilling to fight against so friendly a foe, wherfore he sent his letters to Alexander, requiring him that he might redéeme his captiues, promising a mightie summe & masse of money for their raunsome. Notwithstanding Alexan­der would receiue no money, but required his whole kingdome for their redemption. Darius not willing to fight with so friēd­ly an enemie, sent his letters to Alexander the second time, of­fering one of his daughters in mariage, with part of his king­dome to him, if it might please him to accept thereof. But the vnsatiable Alexander could not be content with part, vnlesse he might haue all the whole. And as for the offer of his daughters, he returned this answere, saying; He had them already, and could doe with them his pleasure. Now was Darius forced to goe against his friendly foe the thirde time, hoping to get his prisoners, and yet notwithstanding louing and honouring the very name of Alexander, for the great courtesie and lenitie he had shewed to his familie. The army and power of Darius was at this time foure hundred thousand footmen, and an hundred thousand horsmen, thus marching toward his enemie Alexan­der, it was told him in his iorney that his wife was dead, whose death Alexander lamented with teares, and caused a noble fu­nerall to be appointed, doing to her the greatest honor he could deuise, comforting the rest, requesting them not so heauely to take the death of their friend, whose life by no meanes he coulde saue or preserue. Now was Darius ouercome (when his power was most strongest) with the benefites and friendlinesse of his foe, so honouring in his heart his aduersarie, that for loue he bare him, he could not arange his battaile against him, reioy­sing greatly in himselfe, and also saying to his friends, If I am ouercome in this warre, yet notwithstāding I haue great cause [Page] to reioyse that I shall be conquered by so noble a minded prince. Wherefore againe he sent his letters to Alexander, of­fering him the greater part of his kingdome, to the riuer of Eu­phrates, with his other daughter: and for the other captiues he offered three hundred thousand talents. But Alexander retur­ned this answere, refusing the compositiō, saying; It was need lessethankes of his enemie, for he alwaies had vsed to reuenge himselfe on armed men, and on his fighting foe, and not vpon hurtlesse women. Thus by the hautie courage of Alexander, Darius, was forced and drawen into the fielde vnwillinglie to fight against his enemie, whom he estéemed as a friendly foe, notwithstanding there was fought betwixt them a fierce and cruell battaile, the Persians in the end being ouerthrowen with great slaughter, for that Darius their Captaine could not en­courage or stirre them vp to fight against his friend. In which conflict certaine of the friends and alliance of Darius, séeing the battaile vtterly lost, and that Alexander was like presently to be Lord of the field, sought to betray their king into the hands of Alexander, thereby to pick a thanke, or as they say, to currie fauour. In accōplishing of which thing Darius was sore woun­ded by his allies, notwithstanding he escaped & preuented their purpose. But Alexander not hearing of Darius, sent out seuen thousand horsmen to prosecute after him, whō when they could not finde, they requested leaue to rest themselues and their ouer wearied horses: then one of the souldiers going to water his horse at a certaine riuer thereby, by chaunce found out Darius lying in a coach or chariot, being mortally wounded with ma­ny gréeuous hurtes, ready to yéeld vp his life, & comming néere to the coach, he did plainly perceiue that it was Darius, and Da­rius did well knowe that he was one of the crewe or bande of Alexander, wherefore he called him to his coache, saying; My good friend, I greatly reioyce that it is my good fortune be­fore I die, to haue so fitte a messenger as yourselfe, to carrie these my last words, not to my enemie, but to my good frend Alexander, at whose handes I haue founde great fauour: say thou my friende, that I confesse I die greatly indebted vnto him, being altogether vnable to requite the very least of his courtesies shewed to my mother, wife and children, and that I [Page 39] haue of him a more happier enemie, than my kinsmen are frendly. For my mother, wife, and children haue found both fauour and life at the hand of mine enemie: and I my selfe am depriued of life by my kinsmen and allies, to whom I gaue both life and land. Wherefore I wish as great happines to fall on him, as he being victor can wish or desire: and that I euen now dying, doe wholy committe and betake both myself, my landes and goods, into the hands of so noble a minded prince, praying both to the high Gods, and also to the infernall po­wers, that he may be victor against whomsoeuer he wageth warre: and that all blessings may happen to him according to his owne hartes desire. And for the further acknowled­ging of my vnfeined loue, and well wishing desire towardes Alexander my approued friend, take here of me this my right hande (which thou seest me cut of willingly being a­liue) and carrie it to thy Lord and master my good friend, as a sure seale and firme pledge of my vnfeyned good will and hartie well wishing towards him. Thus died Darius, when hee coulde no otherwise gratifie and recompence his friendly foe, for the great fauoures and courtesies shewed to his familie, than by the acknowledging of his clemencie and and gentlenes. This friendly fauour of Alexander was soone spred thorow the world, and more often repeated to his high praise and commendation, than the great and famous victorie which he had against the Persians, which was a most wonder­full conquest, and remayneth at this day the very chiefe and most principall praise and merite to Alexander.

Was there not likewise singular courtesie, and wonderful gentlenes in King Darius, which Alexander conquered. For at such time as certaine of his noble men sought to entangle and take him by treason, which were of no small account a­mongst the Persians, Darius the King hauing intelligence of their wicked practise, thus considered with himselfe, and brake it vnto his secrete friend, saying; Here are diuers noble men which traiterously haue conspired my death: if now I shoulde put them all to the sworde, there is no doubt but that I should stirre vp against me many of their friends and allies, and so be [Page] forced to make great effusion of bloud, which truely is contrarie and repugnant to my nature. The cause surely to me is vn­knowen, why they should thus wickedly worke my hurt. It may be they would be better cōtent with another king to raign ouer them, than with me now their present prince: yet truely I rather chuse to haue it registred of their disloyaltie toward their Prince, by my death, than to purchase to my selfe the name of a cruell tyrant, by their bloudy slaughters. With these considera­tions he concealed the matter, making a shew as though he no­thing mistrusted any such thing: on a time riding foorth a hun­ting, these noblemen which had conspired against him, flocked together, hoping now to get some conuenient time and place for their purpose, riding with the king to the forrest, making a shewe of great ioy and gladnes, to the end the king should sus­pect no euill: but he full well knew their intent though he dissem­bled the matter. Thus following their game they trouped to­gether, hoping that the king would come that way which they had laide and stauled for him, which indéede he did. The King séeing their intent, and spying their order, singled himself from the rest of his companie, going directly to the traytors, who stoode in ambush redy to fulfill and accomplish that for which cause they came. The king boldly rushed into the middest of them, saying; Now ye traytors, dispatch and committe that which ye are determined to doe, I haue long time knowē your intent, & for because I would not be counted a bloudy prince I haue spared you all, rather chusing that your handes should be unbrued in the bloud of your giltlesse Prince, to your euer­lasting infamie and dishonor, than my sworde should be stay­ned with the slaughter of so many Subiectes, wishing rather here to die and free your troubled mindes, than to liue and re­maine such an eyesore to so many noble estates, though tray­tors to their Prince. Therefore, said he, Quid igitur non exequi­mini id cuius gratia venistis? Why doe ye not dispatch your purpose in respect of the accomplishment whereof you be re­sorted hether? Then they all looked on ech other in the face, being troubled in their mindes, greatly repenting their enter­prise, that euer they went about to worke such villany to so no­ble a minded Prince, who knew their practise before, and yet [Page 43] spared to punish them, rather choosing himselfe to die, than to vse tyrannie on his subiects (which indeede had been no cruelty but vpright iustice) wherefore they all with one accorde threwe downe their speares, and lighted from their saddles, confessing their trespasse, humbly submitting themselues on their knees, crauing mercie at the hands of Darius, proffering their volun­tarie seruice to doe whatsoeuer hee hencefoorth gaue them in commaundement.

Thus with the great mercie and clemencie of Darius with­out bloudshed, the vnbrideled stomackes of his nobles were pa­cified and made quiet, which by a bloudy hand he coulde neuer haue brought to passe. And from that time foorth they were mindfull of so gratious a benefite, remayning euer after most faithfull, obedient, and full of duetie to Darius their milde and gentle Prince. In like maner Titus a Roman Emperor, sonne to Vespasianus, Aurel. li. 7. excelled in humilitie, clemencie and courtesie: for at such time as two of his chiefest Péeres had consented & con­spired to the murthering of their master the king. Titus hauing knowledge thereof, first calling them into a priuie chamber, telling them home of their wicked intent, wishing them (by milde and gentle meanes) to become better Subiectes to their hurtles Prince, who, so farre as he knew, had not deserued at their hands the very thought of such a wicked inuention. And afterward taking them both with him to a common game or play, setting himselfe betweene them both, willing them to sit neere his person; and so soone as the sword-players came out with their glittering swords, Titus called for one of them, which was presently deliuered to him: then he foorthwith gaue it to the one, and after to the other, vnder colour of feeling how sharp it was, beholding them with a smiling countenance, saying; Vi­detisne potestates fato dari, frustràque tentari facinus potiundi spe, vel admittendi metu? See ye not saith he, that authoritie and power is geuen by destinie, therefore it is vaine to trie by wic­ked practise to possesse the place, and as vaine it is to feare the losing thereof? Meaning thereby, that although they had the sword in their handes, yet could they not displace him whō God had setled. Thus courteously did Titus intreate his Nobles, saying that he had greater pleasure, and more delight to correct [Page] offenders with lenitie, than to chastice them with cruelty, which caused him to raigne more quietly in his life, and also at his death to be bewayled thorow the whole earth, calling him the darling and delight of mankind. He was wont to say ye night, that the day before he had not geuen well to the poore, or béene liberall amongst his friends; Amici, perdidimus diem. Frends, we haue lost a day. Gelon king of Syracusa behaued himselfe wonderfull mildly,Eli. li. 6. gently, and peaceably in his kingdome, yet notwithstanding he was of some tearmed a tyrant. But this is most certaine, that when diuers of his commonwealth sought wayes to shorten his life by cruell murther, wayting for fit oc­casion to execute and accomplish their vile pretended villanie. Whereof when Gelon was enformed and certified, he called a court, and sommoned an assemblie of Syracusians, which being done, in the presence and countenance of them all, hee went vp, into an hauty and high place, in maner of a pulpit, hauing on his bodie harnesse, and in his hands weapons bright and glistring. In which sort and order he stoode before them, making a decla­ration of his faithfull care which he alwayes had ouer the weale publique, tendering the welfare of them all euen as his owne life. Hauing thus done he vnarmed himselfe, laying down both armour and weapon at his féete, and vttered these words to the congregation which was there assembled, saying; En amictus tunicula, nudus armorum asto, dedo me vobis, vt pro voluntate, li­bitóque mecum agatis. Behold, I stand before you naked, vn­armed, in a thinne wastcote, I yeald my life into your handes, my body is at your commandement, deale with me according to your pleasure. For, saith he, I detest the place if you despise my person, neither doe I wish any longer to liue in my calling than you shall well like of my gouernment. When Gelon had thus yealded himselfe to his subiects, the whole assembly of the Syracusians were much amased, and thereupon were so affectio­ned in mind, that néeds they would (there was no way to the cō ­trary) deliuer those traiterous varlets, and rebellious villaines to the kings power, to punish them according to the proportion of their offence, and gaue him their suffrages & vniuersall con­sents to continue ouer them his dominion & gouernmēt: yet not withstanding would not Gelon correct those offenders, but fréely [Page 42] forgaue thē their trespasses, counselling them euer after to be­come better subiects, and to wish to him in their harts no other­wise than he would deserue at their hands. Which great mercy and fauor of Gelon the king, made the Syracusians to honor and duetifully obey him so long as he liued among them, and after his death to haue him in perpetuall remembrance for his singu­lar courtesie, and notable clemencie. They erected and planted a standing image wearing a single peticote, representing to the beholder that this king did raigne and rule by gentle and cour­teous meanes, more safer, and far stronger than he that should raigne like a tyrant, with harnes and armour of proofe.

Scho.

Truely Sir, it is now in these our dayes most ma­nifest how mightely the lenitie and gentlenes of Princes is of force, and auayleth: and with what willing hearts their subiects will venture both life, land and limme in the seruice and defence of their so milde and gentle a Prince: yea if it were possible that one body should venture the losse of life ten times, or presently to runne to ten deaths for the preseruation [...]o safetie of such a noble and mercifull Prince, no doubt they could make no curi­ositie in the cause, nor scrupulositie on the matter, but with willing and fierce mindes boldly venture themselues. Contra­riwise, we both dayly see and reade, that cruell tyrants by their tyrannie cannot compell their Subiectes to beare or carry to­wardes them a duetifull minde, and louing heart, neither wil­lingly to venture themselues in their causes, but drawen, as it were by the eares to their defence, or els they should fight in their owne quarrels: the people also delight & reioyce to heare of the ruine and destruction of such tyrannicall Princes, yea and that which is worse, doe often conspire and practise vnna­turally the death and destruction of such tyrants. Wee reade of the cruell tyrant Clearchus, King of the Heraclians, that when by no perswasions he could be restrayned from his accu­stomed tyrannie,Laer. li. 6. two of the most noblest young Gentlemen of the Citie conspired his death, venturing their owne liues to deliuer and set free their Common-wealth from such a tyran­nous enemie, neuer resting vntill they had freed their Coun­treymen from his cruell tyrannie. For Clearchus vnmercifully [Page] tormenting his guiltles subiects with most cruell torture, sharp punishment, and extreame banishment, taking pleasure in the vntollerable paines of his distressed people, finding out most sharpe and cruell inuentions to plague and torment his misera­ble Subiects withall. At the last these two yong Gentlemen, Chion and Leonides, being both brought vp vnder the tutor­ship and gouernment of the wise and learned Philosopher Pla­to, tendring their Countreyes libertie, and detesting the cruell tyrannie of the wicked Tyrant, fained themselues to be at va­riance and earnest controuersie in the Kings presence, insomuch that they drewe their Daggers one at the other in the Kinges sight, & so betwixt them both they stabbed the Tyrant to death, and deliuered their Common wealth from such a bloudie min­ded butcher.

It is also reported, that after Pisistratus was dead, who v­surped the crowne, and raigned by force and crueltie, that then his sonne Diocles, excelling his Father in all kinde of tyranny, was soone after him slaine for his wickednes; and especially for that he had dishonourably rauished and with violence intreated a yong Maide, whose brother in reuengement thereof slew the King.Plu devita Hipp. Then raigned his Brother Hippias, who also was a most wicked and bloudie Tyrant: this Hippias caused the yong man that had slaine his brother to be racked, to confesse who were the counsellers of him to that déede: who named all the Tyrants frends. Whom, so soone as they were apprehended, were presently put to death as chiefe ayders in the conspiracie, whereof they were altogether ignorant and vnguiltie, but the youngman appeached them for mainteining the tyrant in his wickednes. Thus the tyrants frends being slaine, the yong mā was againe demaunded if he knewe anie other that was con­senting to the death and murder of his Brother? The young man answered; No truly Hippias, there is none liuing that I would haue dead, but thou thy selfe, O thou Tyrant. Say­ing further, That he greatly reioyced, that he had caused one Tyrant to execute tyrannie on another, whereby he had freed his Countrey from a great number of them: wishing and ear­nestly exhorting his Countrey men to haue as great a care in wishing well to their Countrey (by rooting out of all such Ty­rants, [Page 41] which déede would sort the common good of their Coun­treymen) as they had or should haue of their owne priuate E­states.

Did Nero purchase to himselfe the fauor and friendly harts of his Countrie men by such monstrous crueltie as he commō ­ly vsed? No truly, but their disdainfull hate was thereby ob­tained. He had such care ouer his Countrey, and so tendered the welfare of his Countreymen, that to satisfie and please his tyrannous minde, on a time hee woulde néedes set the stately Citie of Rome on fire, to see how rightly it would resemble the burning and ouerthrowe of Troy, when the Greekes had taken it: by which cruell déed, he was the spoyle of manie a thousand Romane: for the fire continued burning in the Citie the space of fiue dayes, wonderfully consuming the goods and treasure of the Citizens, to the great impouerishing of the whole Com­mon wealth. For which impious cruelties (when he had com­mitted other outragious tyrannies, which before are specified) he was by the common consent of his subiects condemned to be beaten to death with whips and roddes: but the execution was not done accordingly,Aureli. li. 7. for the preuented their sharp sentence with the murder of himselfe.

Diomedes the bloudie Thracian Tyraunt, scaped not vnre­uenged for his monstrous and abhominable murders, in giuing to his horses the bodies of liuing men to bee deuoured of those rauenous iades,Plu. de vita Diomed. which he kept for the same purpose; executing dayly his accustomed tyrannie vpon the poore distressed Thraci­ans his Countreymen, delighting to embrewe himselfe in the bloud of his subiects: but in the ende, the noble Hercules, dis­daining to suffer so vile a wretch a liue, made warre against him, and tooke the cruell Tyraunt Diomedes prisoner, giuing him to his owne horses, who deuoured him as their wonted pray. For being before by accustomed manner made fierce and fell in their iadish crueltie, they were now the more apt and rea­die to teare in péeces, and plucke lim-meale the bodie of the bloudie Tyrant.

Also the most odious and detestable Tyrant Phalaris in sem­blable manner receiued like reward: for when he had long time studied and inuented for strange and cruell torments to plague [Page] and paine his poore subiects withall: at last Perillus a notable and expert workman came to Phalaris (hoping to receiue such reward as the Tyrants proclamation before had promised) and sayd;Plu. de vita Phale. Sir King, I haue inuented and made a most strange, rare and cruell punishment, to torment whom it shall please you, after a most wonderfull and extreame order. The engine was like a Bull made and shaped of brasse in euerie respect, hauing in the side thereof a dore right artificially contriued, to put in na­ked men, which doore being closed vp fast againe with the man in the middle, fire should bee put vnder the belly of the brasen Bull, and so soone as the Engine began thoroughly to heate, it would so scorch and burne the liuing man within, that he shuld not choose but mainly and extreamely crie out, whose voyce by comming thorough certaine hollowe holes in the Buls throte, (made for that purpose) should séeme like to the cruell roaring of a mad Bull, or some other bedlam Beast, which was sharp­ly goared or pricked. Phalaris beholding this strange deuice, greatly reioycing at the rarenesse thereof, thought it long vn­till he might sée the effect thereof put in execution. Wherefore calling to him the running worke man who had taken great paines in framing and contriuing that straunge and rare tor­ment, saying, Friend Perillus, I most heartely thanke thee for this deuice, and for because I would saine be satisfied, and see some experience prooued in this thy hollowe deuice, I com­maund that thou prooue the first experience of thine owne handie crafte. Which without stay was forced to bee done, to the great terrifying of all the beholders. Thus was Perillus beaten with his owne rodde; for that which hee made for gaine to crucifie land torment others, hee first of all tasted himselfe. Yet notwithstanding Phalaris was not to be commended here­in, for that he had no respect to the cause, but according to his accustomed manner of crueltie, vsed the Engine afterwardes to the punishment of his subiects, therewithall to delight and satisfie his tyrannous and bloudie minde: vntill his Countrey men detesting such outragious crueltie, could not suffer his ty­rannie anie longer, but rose vp against him, and tooke the blou­die Tyrant, putting him into the brasen Bull to make him tast the torment of his owne crueltie. Thus also died the notable [Page 44] Tyrant Phalaris, Mors Pha­laris. who alwayes tooke pleasure in tormenting and persecuting his poore Subiects, wishing rather to bee fea­red than loued, coueting to rule and gouerne his Weale pub­lique by cruell and tyrannous meanes: for which his vnsatiate and bloudthirstie intemperancie, he felt the desert of his owne folly.

Therefore Sir, I right well perceiue, that the Prince ru­leth with more safetie (as you said before) in a thinne and sin­gle wastcoate, than in strong armour, much more auayling by gentle and curteous meanes ouer their louing Subiects, than with a bloudie and tyrannous hand, which oftentimes turneth them to hate, not to loue; preferrring him to death, not to life. And whereas you haue shewed examples, what great honour and renowme falleth to the share of such Princes, which haue shewed both mercifull pitie, gentle courtesie, and manly cle­mencie on poore distressed creatures in time of victorie: and al­so what loue they gate euen of their enemies, for the chast pre­seruing of Matrones and Uirgines, for their gentle courtesie in entertaining them, and for their liberall hearts in voluntari­ly fréeing and dismissing them beeing such hurtlesse captiues: noting contrariwise the deserued ruine of such, as haue vniust­ly tyrannized ouer their innocence, for of such Tyrants falls, all Histories are full.

It is certainly reported,Aurelius de vita & mo­ribus impe­ratorum. that Dionysius Iunior in his victo­ries vsed great crueltie by abusing of Matrones, rauishing yong Uirgines and deflowring of Maidens, for when on a time he came to the Locreans, he tooke vp, possessed, occupied, vsed, or rather abused the greatest, largest, & fairest houses that were in all the Citie, strewing them with damaske roses, lauen­der, sauorie, and such like odoriferous flowers, & swéet smelling hearbs, sending for the yong Damsels of the Locreans, to come to him; with whom he had fleshly pleasure and delight, past all shame, honestie, or regard of chastitie. Which filthines & most loathsome offence abounding in him escaped not vnpunished: for when his kingdome was rent and torne from him by Dion, the Locreans rewarded like with like, dealing carnally with the Wife and Daughters of Dionysius, inforcing vpon them (for his offence) most abhominable fornication without anie [Page] intermission or ceasing, and such specially as were of the linage consanguinitie and kinred of those young maydes and virgins whom Dionysius defloured, were most eager and fierce to be so reuenged. After they had satisfied and staunched the lust of their flesh with the bodies of Dionysius his wife and daugh­ters, they tooke needles and thrust them into their fingers and toes, vnder the naples, in such lamentable order murthering them, and stamped their bones in morters, from the which they had launced and cut collops of flesh, offering the gobbets to be eaten: whereof who so refused to tast, such they abused most vil­lainously, and handled worse than helhounds. The remnant of slaughtered and dismembered carcases was cast into the sea, there to be consumed with whirling waues, or to be deuoured by monstrous fishes; and as for Dionysius himselfe, after he had endured manifold mischances, and sustayned sundry distres­ses of life and estate, at Corinth, being pinched with extreme néede, he became a starke begger, and went from place to place playing on a Timbrel and Flute, and singing Ballades in the companie of such as hyred him, and gaue him for his labour: go­ing also into Barbers shops to iest, and to make the people me­ry and pleasant when they came thether to be notted & shauen. This was the end of Dionysius, and after this sort hee finished the course of his life, in no lesse beggery than infamie, who no doubt was but plagued according to his desert.

Fame.

Now doe I right well perceiue that our conference doth much profit you, and that you haue wel noted and marked the tenor of my purpose, in going about to discipher the diffe­rence betwixt vertue and vice, which you sufficiently discerne, and are able to geue examples to the contrary: therefore I no­thing repent me of my paine and labour herein, but will with willing minde procéede to pleasure you in what I may: and whereas now in this my last speech I shewed vnto you what honor and renowme was purchased and obteined thorow mercy and clemencie, and also what noble fame and eternall praise re­mayneth to those, who doo shew both manly pitie, gentle cour­tesie, and mercifull fauour to the conquered, & to those who are vnder their power to dispose at their pleasure. Contrariwise, you haue declared what inconuenience doeth often fall to those [Page 45] who séeke to rule and raigne thorow tyrannie, and by bloudie meanes, and also what miserie hapneth oft to those who haue had neither regard of their owne honestie, the preseruation of chastitie, nor any pitifull consideration of them in aduersitie. Well now againe I will procéed, beginning where last you in­terrupted me, which was, where Princes tendered, & carefullie loued their subiects, and welfare of their commonwealth, there also what a duetifull care and obedient mind the subiects ought to haue for the preseruation of their so good a Prince, & happie weale publique, for that commonwealth which is gouerned by a wise and prudent Prince, cannot chuse but be called and tear­med right happy and fortunate.

The wise and learned Philosopher Plato was woont to say Tum demùm beatum terrarum orbem futurum, Dictum Ciceronis. cum aut sapien­tes regnare, aut reges sapere caepissent. Yet at length a happy & blessed time shall fall on the earth, when either wisemen begin to raigne, orels Kinges begin to waxe wise. For there, saith he, the Common wealth is on all parts blessed. Then hauing such a wise Prince and setled Commonwealth, the Subiectes ought to haue a speciall and duetifull care in mainteyning, de­fending, vpholding, and preseruing both Prince and Countrey to the vttermost of their power, yea if it were with the losse of their liues, in the iust quartell and good cause of their Prince and Countrey.Valer. li; & Liuius in prelatione belloium punicorum. Cicero saith, Non nobis solùm nati sumus, sed etiam pro patria. We are not onely borne, saith he, to pleasure our selues, but also to the profite and commoditie of our coū ­trey. For at such time as Attilius Regulus a noble Consull of Rome, hauing oftentimes vanquished the Carthaginians, was at the last of them taken prisoner by a certaine subtile sleight, yet notwithstanding, because the Romanes had also taken certaine prisoners of the Carthaginians, and those most noble and valiant Captaines and Souldiers, wherefore Regu­lus was sent home to Rome, to make exchange for the other prisoners. But when this ancient Father was come to Rome, he called a Conuocation of the Senators, and there in the Se­nate before them all, he thus began, Most learned & graue fa­thers, whom I right well know haue alwaies wished well, and tendered the welfare & cōmon good of our coūtrey, knowing [Page] also, that at this time you are not ignorant of my late chaunce and mishap, which now being past remedy is not to be sorow­ed, and also that you haue here in the citie certaine prisoners of the Carthaginians, being both expert, actiue, and valiant cap­taines, whom they craue to haue againe by way of exchange, and so may you haue me againe here at libertie in Rome: not­withstanding, first for my auncient authoritie in this our com­monwealth, then for my approued good wil towards my coū ­trey, and last, in respect of my graue and aged yeares, and here by the vertue and dignitie of my place in the Senate house, I am to determine causes, confer about the good of our weale publique; and to haue as great a care for the preseruation both of our Citie and Countrey, in as ample manner as the rest of you my fellowe Senators: therefore, most honourable Fathers, being thus strongly warred vpon by so mighty a peo­ple, who seeke daily to subuert our state, throwe down our ci­tie, and spoyle our commonwealth: the cause is therefore wise­ly to be considered on. First for mine owne part, as you all do know, I am old, decrepite, and of little force of body, not like long to continue. Againe, the Captaines whom you holde of the Carthaginians, are both lustie, valiant, and couragious gen­tlemen, likely to perfourme and doe great seruice against you, to the great hurt of the Commonwealth, Therefore, Fathers conscript, by the vertue of may aforsaid authorities, I wil neuer consent to the redeliuering or redeeming of such perilous ene­mies, but will with a willing heart returne to the Carthagini­ans from whence I came, to saue both the honor of my coun­trey, and the credite of my name, from perpetuall infamie, lest that we should be hereafter by the Carthaginians our enemies, accounted, and reprochfully tearmed the confringers of marti­all rights. Thus the graue Senators by no meanes could per­swade the good old man to make such exchange as the Cartha­ginians offered, but would néedes return for his countreis sake, although he knew he went to present death and cruel torment Thus went Attilus Regulus to the enemie, who after they had bound him, cut of his eye lids, and set him in a hollow tree vp­right, filled full of sharp and pricking nailes, there continuing in most horrible paine vntill he died. Thus did he carry a faithfull [Page 46] heart and noble courage in his countreis cause, willing to lose his life for the profite and welfare of his weale publique. In like sort, Gobrias a Persian, holding in his armes by force in a dark chamber him who was a traytor to his countrey; insomuch that when one of his fellowes came to his ayde to help to slaye the traytor,Plu. devita Codri. he cryed out to his friend, saying; Stay not thy blowe, but thrust him thorow, although thereby thou doest kill me also, so that he escape not from vs, to the further hurte of our Countrey, therefore presently run thy sword thorow him, and so shall our Common-wealth be freed from a wicked traytor. Thus Gobrias esteemed not his life in deliuering his countrey from an enemie. Codrus king of Athens, for the sauegard of his publick weale, went to present death willingly and with a va­liant courage. For at such time as there was warres betwixt him and the Dorians, the Dorians went to the oracle of Apol­lo at Delphos, to know who should be victors in that war be­gun: to whom this answere was made, That they should be co­querors if they killed not the king of Athens. Then was pro­clamation made in all the Dorian campe, to spare and preserue aliue the Athenian king. But Codrus hearing of the answere of Apollo, and being aduertised of their proclamation, did foorth­with change his garmēts in most deformed maner, with a wal­let full of bread on his shoulders, and went priuely to the campe of the Dorians, and wounded a certaine od fellow among their Tentes, with a sharpe hooke or sickle which hee had prepared for the nonce. In reuenge whereof the wounded fellowe slewe Codrus the king: but after when the body was knowen, & the order of his death, the Dorians departed without battaile, re­membring the diuine answere of the Oracle, wherby the Athe­nian king freed his countrey frō peril,Diogenes. Laer. li. 4 which otherwise had béen in great danger. It is also reported that Lycurgus, after he had made diuers good lawes (to be obserued & kept of his coūtreimē) fained that they were made by the cōsent of the Oracle at Del­phos. And when he perceiued that these lawes & statutes were to the great benefit of his countrey, fayned that he would go to Delphos for further counsel. And to the intent they should kéep those lawes vntill he returned from thence, firme and sure, he made the whole body of the commonwealth to sweare, & binde [Page] themselues by oath, to keepe vnuiolated and vnbroken those lawes which then he had set downe, vntill such time that he re­turned againe from Delphos, but because he would haue those statutes remaine and be of force for euer in his Countrey, hee went the next way to Créete, and not to Delphos, where he li­ued in exile, banishing himselfe from his Countrey so long as he liued: and at his death (because his bones should not be cari­ed into his Countrey, whereby his Countreymen might think themselues discharged of their oathes, and full fréed from their vowe) he caused his bones to be burned, and the ashes thereof to be throwen into the sea, to the intent that neither he himselfe nor any part of him being left, should be brought backe into his Countrey, by which meanes he caused his Countreymen per­petually to kéepe those good and holesome lawes, to the vnspe­kable profit of the Commonwealth.

Plu. in vita Darij. Zopirus a nobleman of Persia also, tendering his Prince & Countrey, insomuch that when the great Citie of Babylon re­belled against Darius his Lord and king, to the great trouble & vexation of the whole commonwealth, and could by no meanes be subdued, he then in fauor of his prince and countrey, priuily and vnawares went and cut off his owne nose, lips, eares, and in other deformed maner pitifully mangling his body, fled into the City of Babylon, saying that Darius his master and certain other of his cruell Countreymen, had so shamefully disfigured and martyred him, because (saith he) I perswaded him to haue peace with your citie. Which when they heard, greatly pitying his distressed case, and in recompence thereof made him chiefe captain and gouernor of their towne, by which meanes he yéel­ded vp the rebellious Babylonians to his soueraigne Lord the king,Li. in bello Punico. to the great good & quieting of his countrey. Did not Sce­uola that noble Roman, whē the citie of Rome was besieged by the mighty Porsena king of Tuscane, willingly run to desperat death to purchase liberty to his countrey: for he apparreled him selfe in beggars cloathes, came foorth of the citie by night, and ranged in the enemies campe, till he had found out the Tent of Persena the king, minding to slay that mighty Tuscane, who then so strongly compassed and enuironed their citie. But he mistaking the king, slewe his Secretary, and missed his marke, [Page 47] who being thereupon presently taken, and his pretended pur­pose further knowen, Porsena the king caused a great fire to be made to burne Sceuola in, which when he came to the place, hee thrust his right hand willingly into the fire, first suffering it to burne to ashes, couragiously saying; I willingly committe this my hand to the fire, which fayled to kill Porsena the tyrant. Further affirming at his death, that there were thrée hundreth Romanes more redy prest, which had also sworne the death of the king, if he fayled, and would as willingly venture themselues in their Countreys cause, as he before them had done: and as it were among themselues striuing who first should doe that good seruice to their countrey. Which when Porsena had hearde, he did not much discommend their faithfulnes towardes their Commonwealth, but with all speed remoued his siege, and de­parted from the walles of Rome, to the great reioising of the ci­tizens. Thus ought euery man to haue a speciall care & regard to preserue his natiue countrey and commonwealth. For when both Princes and noble estates haue willingly ventured life, nay run to present death, for the sauegard of the weale publike, much more then ought euery priuate person and meane subiect in Prince and Countreyes cause valiantly to venture both life and lim, with right couragious mindes in defence of so honest and good a cause.

Scho.

I confesse that euery subiect ought willingly to offer his body in defence of his Prince and natiue Soyle, and not to haue so great a care for the preseruation of his priuate person, as for the benefit and welfare of his Prince and Commonwealth. Were it not a vile reproach and ignomie to those people that should by their cowardlines suffer their king to be slaine in the field, and they themselues to remaine aliue and geue the looking on? Contrariwise, is it not great honor to him that shall hazard his life, yea or run to right desperate exploites in the good cause or quarrell of his Prince? To conclude, it is the part of euery good prince to haue a care of the welfare of his commonwealth, and of the preseruation of his subiects: and also the part of all honest Subiects to haue a duetiful care to preserue their prince and a manly courage to defend their coūtrey. Truely we read in most ancient histories, of diuers who by their noble valoure, [Page] wise policie, and manly courage, haue defended (from the inua­tion of forrain foes) both their weale publique from subuersion, their stately townes and cities from ruine and decay, & also the whole body of their countreymen from most cruel murther and pitifull slaughter, and yet in the end haue been most vilely re­compenced by their vnkind countreymen. Was not Manlius a Roman,Q Curtius fo. 280. surnamed Capitolinus, who preserued the Capitoll or castle of Rome from the cruell force of the Gaules, and did many other noble actes in his Countreis cause, throwne down from the top of the same Castle, headlong, by his owne vnkind countreimen, whom he many times both manfully and coura­giously had defended and saued. Also Miltiades, a noble man of Athens,Iustin. li. 15 which in the field of Marathaon with 10000. Gréekes discomfited and put to flight 600000. Persians, and so by his great wisdome and prudent policie, saued & deliuered his coun­trey from being ouerrun with such a mighty and huge hoast, which otherwise had beene vtterly subdued & ouerthrowen, but after being cast in arrerage of a certaine summe of mony, he was by his vngratefull Countreymen, condemned into most cruell prison, and there died in fetters, and being dead, he might not be suffered to be buried, vntill his sonne had put on him the giues that his father did weare.Plu. de Themistocle. In like sort Themistocles a noble captain of the same vngrateful town of Athens, after he had de­liuered his Countrey from the huge & terrible power of Xerx­es, putting him to flight and al his great hoast, making yt migh­tie king (by his circumspect wisdome and policie) shamefully to flie home in a Fishermans boate vnknowen, for the safety and preseruation of himselfe; notwithstanding, was at the last driuē his Countrey, and forced to flie (by the vnkinde Citizens) to his enemie Xerxes, whō before he had driuen from the walles of Athens, but Xerxes willingly receiued such a friende with great intertainment, and sent him againe with a mighty armie, to warre on his owne countrey, hoping now that he would be sharply reuenged on his vnkinde citizens. But Themistocles being now Lord Generall against his natiue countrey, hauing in his power the whole destruction and ouerthrow of his deere commonwealth: yet notwithstanding for all that the Athenians had dealt so extremely with him, he rather chose to die, than any [Page 48] way to hurt his countrey. And because he would not shew him­selfe a traitor to Xerxes, who had put his whole power into his hand, and receiued him so courteously in his extremitie, nor that he would torment the bowels of his vngratefull citie, & vnmer­cifully to spoyle (with forraine people) his vnkind countreimē; to frée himselfe of these two inconueniences, hee poysoned him selfe,Valer. li. 9. and so died a more faithfull frend to his countreymē than they had deserued. After that Demetrius sonne of Philip, king of Macedon, whom before I spake of, had obteined pardon for his father and whole countrey, by his great modestie & tempe­rance shewed in the Senat of Rome, because the Senators did write to his father the king in this maner; We the Senators of Rome do not pardō thee for thy owne sake, but for the modest demeanor of thy sonne, shewed here before vs in the Senate. Which thing Philip (by the instigation of certaine of his flat­tering Subiectes) did take so displeasantly and gréeuouslie that his sonne was in such estimation, and better accounted of than himselfe, and therefore so hated his sonne for his great paines and diligent care, whereby he preserued both his father and Countrey from the reuenge of the Romanes. At whose good hap also certaine of his vnkinde Countreymen, with the helpe of his vnnaturall brother Perses, so repined, insomuch that they procured false witnes, to accuse him to his father, be­ing willing to heare any cause against his sonne. Thus by the surmise of his vnnaturall Countreymen he was condemned to death by his vnkinde father, who before had both studied to preserue the honor of his father, and also to mainteine the flou­rishing estate of his countrey. Did not the Romanes banish and exile the noble and worthie Cicero, by the procurement of Clodius, Liui. li. 3. when he had preserued and defended his Coun­trey from ruine and vtter destruction,Polib. in bello Roma norum cō ­tra Cartha­ginenses. and saued the noble Ci­tie of Rome from the fury of Cataline, euen for because he had put to death the chiefe traytors and enemies of the Common­wealth in that dangerous conspiracie, who sought to spoyle, sacke, take and burne their natiue Citie Rome. Was not the same vngratefull Citie Rome found vnkinde to her most deare frend and preseruer the worthie Scipio; for when the Romanes were in great distresse thorow the bitter and sharpe warres [Page] which the Carthaginians long time most greeuously helde a­gainst them, being also mightely ouermatched with the subtile and wilie Hanniball, chiefe General of the hoast of the Cartha­ginians, who came marching to the very walles of Rome, con­quering the Romans, staying their Consuls, and beating downe their strongest powers: whose force and policie made the citie of Rome to shake for feare, the Senators & graue fathers to trem­ble in despaire, the noble matrones and young damsels to cry out and lament most pitifully, as if the Citie euen then shoulde haue beene sacked, knowing not how by any meanes to repell the enemie, being in this distresse, and ready to be spoyled by their mortall foe, when all their flourishing young Gentlemen were almost slaine, and their chiefest Captaines and most noble warriors put to the sword. Now in this great extremitie, the noble Scipio required leaue of the sorowfull Romans to reuenge their iniuries on the bloody minded Carthaginians, not doubting but that with a lusty courage, and circumspect care, to encoūter the power and policie of fierce Hanniball. Thus when the graue Senators, and the rest of the distressed Romanes did see such willingnes in the noble youth Scipio, knowing that both his father and vncle were slaine in the same warre before, also seeing such inuincible courage in the braue minded Gentleman, they all with willing consent made him gouernour almost ouer their conquered band: requiring him with lamentable teares, (hanging about his necke) that at this time he would remem­ber their miserable and distressed estate, and seek to hold vp and maintaine their wauering Common wealth, which was nowe ready to fall into the hands of their cruell enemie. Thus Scipio hauing taken his Countreys cause on him, with a noble heart marched against the hardie Hanniball, and draue him (as well by policie as by force) out of the borders and confines of Italie, ouercomming him in diuers notable battailes in Spaine, get­ting also the whole Countrey of Spaine againe, which the Car­thaginians had lately woon from the Romanes, not resting vn­till he had chased and driuen Haniball back into his owne coun­trey of Affricke, yea and in the end penned him vp hard to the very walles of Carthage, which was his chiefest defence and refuge, where was fought a cruell and bloudy battaile betwixt [Page 49] two of the most noblest captaines of the world, contending in that fight for the Empire of the whole world, watching to whō now it should fall. For the pride of these two empires of Rome and Carthage, could neuer digest or brooke the statelines of each other, which first was the cause of this bloudy warre, but now at this time it was turned to a whole Monarchie, for Scipio in this battaile ouercame the Carthaginians, and caused stately Carthage to be yeelded to his mercie. Now when Scipio had finished this perilous war, he returned with the conquest of Af­frica and Spaine, making the stout captaine Hanniball to fly for his safetie, causing the hautie Carthaginians to yeeld them selues on their knees to the mercie of the Romanes, returning into Rome with the Empire (in a māner) of the whole worlde, to the great ioy and euerlasting fame of the Romanes. Surely a great and sodain change, to see the Romans raigne as victors, when that not long before the dreadfull Captaine Hanniball had ranged all Italie ouer, and driuen the Romanes into their citie of Rome, who euery day expected the destruction of them­selues and their Citie; and now not onely to be Lordes againe ouer their owne Empire, but also ouer the stately Carthagini­ans, who before had sought their subuersiō and confusion, which hapned by the wise gouernment, and valiant courage of noble Scipio. The Romanes being now fréed from all miseries and calamities, and againe ruling as kings ouer the whole worlde, could not chuse but defile themselues with notable ingratitude, and spot themselues with wonderful vnkind dealing: for Scipio who had thus pleasured his countrey, because the world had him in great honor and admiration, comming dayly from far to the citie of Rome to behold and doe honour to so valiant and fortu­nate a Gentleman, who had so manfully defended his countrey, and gotten such peereles prayse to the Romanes: wherfore the Romanes disdayning that the honour of Scipio should dayly so increase, repining and grudging at him, séeking by all meanes possible to hunt him from the citie, because they would not ac­knowledge themselues to be beholding vnto him for his noble actes, despising that any one should liue amōg them, that should be accounted the preseruer or vpholder of their common wealth, which was by reason of their intollerable pride: therefore they [Page] sought by all meanes to banish and exile him from the Citie; (which was by his meanes preserued, as the world at this daye can wel witnesse) inuenting against him strange and diuers ac­cusations. First hee was charged with the olde matter betwixt the Locrenses and Pleminius, wherein (as they say) he being Consull was corrupted with mony, and therefore ministred not true Iustice. Againe, they layd to his charge, that his sonne be­ing prisoner to Antiochus (their enemie) was deliuered to him without raunsome, which they thought was verie suspitious. For these small causes, he was called before the Senate to an­swere to their obiections, which were but of small importance, euen as if he had béen a meane man & base person, vrging cau­ses against him with extremitie, without fauour, or hauing a­nie respect to his noble actes done for the Common wealth; which ingratitude he tooke so displesantly, that he departed from the Court, and went into the countrey to the towne of Lytarne, where he dwelled as long as he liued, exiling himself frō Rome for euer: and at his death he commaunded his bodie to bee bu­ried there also, that his bones might not rest in that vnkind Ci­tie. The most worthie Captaine Hannibal was also banished Carthage by his vnkinde country men, when he had done won­derfull exploytes in his Countreys cause: and although he was in the ende conquered by Scipio, yet was he well knowen to bée the most famous and worthiest Captain liuing in the world at that time, notwithstanding Fortune fauoured him not. Thus we sée, that diuers are most vile & hardly recompenced by theyr vnkinde countrey men, for their good seruice done.

Fame.

Yet notwithstanding, my good friend, although di­uers Countreys haue béen vnkinde and vngrateful to their no­ble Countrey men, it is no consequent that anie Country man should be vntrue to his natiue soyle and Commonwealth: for the fault is much more hainous and farre more gréeuous, for the man to be vntrue to his Common wealth, than for the coū ­trey to shewe an vnkinde part to the man, although it be bad in both. But now againe to our purpose, though wee haue some­what digressed from the matter, in shewing what man ought to doo for his Countrey, and with what willingnesse hee ought to hazard life for the preseruation thereof; it shall not séeme vnfitt [Page 50] to retire againe to our former conference, concerning the go­uernment of man, which altogether ought to bee grounded on temperance, as our former speach hath hetherto tended. There is an inconuenience which bringeth to man wonderful miseries and manifold calamities, which is fond and doating Loue: I speake not of that Loue, which is commendable, and lawfully allowed, but of such doating loue as shall hereafter more mani­festly be explaned. Magna est profecto Latmorum poetarum cohors, quae solebant dicere, Omnia vincit amor. Surely great is the number of Romane Poets, which wer wont to say, Loue vanquisheth and ouercommeth all things: and truely, I must néedes confesse, great is the force and furie of loue; but much to be quallified by the aforesaid gift:Hesiodus. notwithstanding, Hesiodus is of this minde, Omnium primum natus est chaos, inde terra, tartara & amor. First of all thinges the Heauens were made, then the earth, then hell, and next after loue. Parmenides quo­que, Parmeni­des. ante deos omnes natum amorem autumat. Parmenides also doth affirme, that loue was created before the Gods them­selues. Euripides, Euripides. omnium deorum supremum esse Amorem. Loue (saith Euripides) is the highest of all the Gods.Ouid de A­more. Ouid being about to speake of Loue, saith; Regnat, & in dominos, ius habet ille deos. Loue doth raigne and hath a dominion and regiment in the verie Gods themselues. All which sayings of the Poets, are but to showe the piercing force and ancient anti­quitie of Loue: faining also, that Iupiter being chiefe of al the Gods, could not withstand the furie of Loue, (much lesse then could anie of the inferior Gods) but oft did change his shape to haue his pleasure, Nam Iouem ipsum, modo in Cygnum, mo­do in Taurum transformauit, quandoque in aurum conslauit: Neptunum equi, Quidius de Meta. Mercurium Hirci formam induere coegit: Apollinem vt Admeti pasceret armenta compnlit. For Ioue: transformed himselfe sometime into a Swanne, sometime into a Bull, and againe sometime into a golden shower: Neptune to a Horse, Mercurie to the shape of a Goate, Apollo that hée might féede the flockes of Admetus, did also change his shape and forme. If the Gods (as the Poets affirme) have béen thus enflamed with Loue, after so vaine & fond a sort, then no doubt but mortall men are more entangled in her traps and snares, [Page] and blindly without consideration doe fall to foolish fancie, and doting desire. But this no doubt is but foolish babble of the pra­ting Poets, rather encouraging fonde men to goe forwarde in their folly: for that (say they) the Gods could not bridle their af­fections from the force of loue, therefore much lesse men. Well let this suffice, what greater calamity hath hapned to man than such as hath beene procured by inordinate and vnsatiable loue. Was not Paris, sonne to Priamus king of Troy, the very cause by his inordinat loue, that brought to passe such cruell wars be­twixt the Gréekes and Troyans, wherein both his aged father and brethren were slaine, his countrey spoyled, and the citie of Troy mightely defaced with fire, & throwen flat to the ground, with the slaughter of many thousands of his coūtreymē. What was the first occasion of the great warre betwixt the Thebanes and Phoceans, which could hardly be ended in ten yeares, but ye fonde loue of a certain Phocean, who tooke perforce a Theban woman out of the hands of a Theban. What also was the cause that Philip king of Macedon so oft and sodainly returned from his warres, leauing all, as the prouerb saith, at six & seuen, with out order, to his reproach and wonderfull losse, but only the im­portunate loue he bare to Cleopater. Did not noble Achilles purchase great dishonor by doting loue? For when he lay at the siege of Troy, because Atridas had taken his swéet loue & gréen sléeues from him, he would no longer fight in his coūtreis cause which was the death of many a thousand Gréeke, vntil his swéet heart Briseis was restored againe, or els (as some say) because Hector had slaine his louing companion Patroclus in his own armour. Wise Vlisses was in like sort intangled in the same snare, for when Agamemnon and the other captains of Gréece called for him to goe to Troy to reuenge the villanie which the Troyans had offered, enrolling his name as a chiefe Peere of the Greekes: but Vlisses newly maried to Penelope, was not willing to goe to Troy in his countreis cause, but to play and daily with his late loue at home, insomuch that when the king and captaines of the Greekes were fully prepared and ready to goe to Troy, Vlisses fayned himselfe mad, and out of his wits, and because he would the better perswade them of his madnes, hee coupled dogs together, and ran with a plowe raging ouer [Page 51] the fieldes sowing salt, making as though he were starke mad without either wit or sense, but Palamides loathing to loose so fit a mate as Vlysses was, tooke Thelemacus the sonne of V­lysses, and layd him in the way as his father came running with his plow: but Vlysses not so madde, but lifted vp the plow, and missed the child, whereby Palamides perceiued that he dissem­bled the matter, and cried out, thy craft and subtiltie Vlysses is bewrayed and found out, therefore leaue off thy counterfaite madnes, and goe with vs to Troy. Thus when Vlysses had disgraced himselfe (by his doting follie) to his shame and re­proch, was in the ende forced to goe to Troy with a flea in his eare. Hercules that noble champion and Conquerour of the world, when he had done many notable and worthie exploites, whereof the world at this day beareth witnesse; at the last to the vtter defacing of all his former actions he fell to doting in such fond sort, that he laid his weapons at the foote of Iole his loue, and became her spinning slaue, refusing no toyle whereunto she commaunded him, which thing (notwithstanding his valiant déedes) at this day remaineth a vile reproch and blot to his dead carkasse. What was the cause that the most valiant Sampson lost his great force and strength, but by the peeuish loue he bare to Dalila, who had oftentimes attempted his de­struction, but could neuer bring her purpose to effect, vntill such time, that he thorough inordinate and doting loue, must néedes reueale his secrets, which was the chiefe cause of his vtter con­fusion: for these causes did the Poets faine, that women are to men an euill, yet notwithstanding they owe them this fauour, to say, they are necessary euilles, Homerus saith,Homerus. Vsque adeòni­hilimprobius velmuliere peius, that nothing is more vile or bad than a woman: and diuers other Poets, Foemina nihil pestilen­tius esse confirmârunt, & mulierem omnem esse malam, doo af­firme that nothing is more pestilent or wicked than a womā, and that euerie woman is bad and euill. Upon which occasi­on of the Poets babling,Lacon. this merie iest sprang first: Lacon cùm vxorem duxisset perpusillam, dicebatè malis quod minimum esset eligendum: Lacon, when he had married a verie little and small wife, did say, out of many euilles the least is to be cho­sen. But surely the vaine babling of the prating Poets, in this [Page] cause is vtterly to be condemned: for vnder the colour that all women are euill, they goe about to hide and cloake the foolish follie of mad doting men, making women a veile or shadow to hide and couer the doting fondnes of vnsatiable men. Indeede the olde prouerbe is, Ignis, mare, mulier, tria sunt mala. That sire, the sea, and a woman, are three euils. Truely a strong rea­son, then may it like wise be said that men are euill, for that one man hath killed another: and surely by this reason the former three are also euil. For if a man will cast himselfe into the fier, no doubt but that he shal burne, or into the sea, where he may be drowned, or els into the calamities of such a mariage, or other­wise ouer fondly to dote, which he well knew before would pur­chase his trouble and vexation. But my good friend, my purpose is not to exclaime on, or blame faultlesse women, who cannot bridle the fond affection of their importunate louers: wherefore I will somewhat more amply speake of fonde and doting loue, which is as well in the one as in the other, and what inconue­nience doth consequently follow their doting folly. Semiramis being the most amiable Lady of the world,Plu. de vita Semiramis. Et Iust. by reason of her sur­passing beautie, was sent for into Assiria, to the king of that re­gion, that he might satisfie himselfe with the sight of her péerles pulchritude: before whose presence she came according to the te­nor of his message. The king had no sooner cast his wanton eye vpon her passing beauty, but was foorthwith inflamed with the fire of affection towards her: then after certaine circumstances ouerpassed, she required of the doting king a rich reward, namely a robe of estate, the gouernment of Assiria for fiue dayes con­tinuance, and the absolute authoritie in all thinges that were done in the kingdome. Which petition of Semiramis was granted by the king, no deniall made to the contrary. In con­clusion, when things (without exception) were in the gripes of her aspiring minde, she commanded the fonde king to be slaine, whereby he was dispossessed of his dominion, and she presently thereupon enioyed the scepter, [...]lu de vita Candauli. and crowne imperiall ouer all Assiria. Did not Candaulus king of Sardis dote in foolish and fonde loue ouer his wife, insomuch that he thought her the fay­rest creature in the worlde: yet not content to satisfie himselfe with her beautie, but in fond and doting sort must needes shewe [Page 52] his wife naked to his frend, to make him partaker of her surpas­sing beautie and peereles person: and therfore he called his frēd Giges to his chamber, and hid him secretely against his wife should come to bed: but his frend Giges disswading him from his folly, notwithstanding Candaulus would haue no nay in his importunate suite, but that his frend should both know & see his his priuie benefite: so that he was constrayned to obey his fonde request. Now when the wife of Candaulus perceiued herself so betrayed by the inuention of her husband (for Giges incontinēt­ly discloased himselfe) she was mightely abashed, & wonderfully ashamed, for in that countrey it was counted a most wonderfull dishonesty and reproach, that a woman should be seene naked of any man, sauing of her husband: yet for all that, she dissēbled the matter for a time, meaning in the end to take sharp reuenge on her husband, for the great villany he had offered her. At the last she called Giges to her chamber, who before had séene her naked, to the end to haue slaine him: threatening him, that vnlesse he would presently reuenge the wrong and great abuse which her husband had offered her in his presence, which he consequentlie consented vnto for the sauegard of his life, with firme oathes, & solemne vowes, which was, that he should kil the king her hus­band, and take her to wife, with the kingdome, hoping that hee would be content to possesse so good a benefite, and not to make any other priuie or partaker of that which hee best esteemed. Thus whether it were for the sauegard of his life, which he stood in perill to lose, or for the coueting of so beautifull a Queene, & large a kingdome which now was offered him, it resteth doubt­full, but he foorthwith executed the Queenes pleasure on his doting master, which happened through his owne fonde follie. What inconueniēce also hapned to Artaxerxes, Eli. li. 10. king of Persia, by such foolish folly, in doting ouer his sonne so fondly, yt he must make him his master in his life time. For being drownd in such fond affection toward his sonne Darius, (not content himselfe with his scepter and kingdome which he quietly possessed) hee presently aduanced him to taste the secretnes and sweete of his kingdome, not satisfieng himselfe to be a commander ouer his people, but would be a seruant, and be commanded by his sonne, & so it hapned to him as he deserued, for this princox his sonne, [Page] being established in the kingdome by his doting father, became at the last so lordly ouer his foolish father that hee woulde com­maund him in all causes as his duetifull and obedient subiect, it chanced that his father Artaxerxes had married the concubine which he before had taken in his warres, who at that time was péerelesse in beautie. Now Darius being in possession of his fathers kingdome, by vertue of his authoritie he called his fa­ther before his presence as a common subiect, saying, Father, as you haue put the kingdome into my hand, and made me ab­solute King thereof: so whosoeuer this kingdome containeth, is also my subiect, and vnder my authoritie, therfore sir, my pleasure is, that you deliuer and yéelde into my handes, your wife (which was the concubine) for she is faire in my sight, and therefore I greatly desire to haue her, and by vertue of my au­thoritie I straightly commaund, no resistance to the contrarie. But Artaxerxes, although he had made his sonne King, knew that hee was his father, wherefore hee contrary to his sonnes minde, detained Aspasia his newe married wife; which deniall caused his sonne Darius to conspire the death of his resisting father, because (as he thought) hee was not absolute King to commaund, as after the death of his father hee should be, and also did associate in this his vnnaturall confederacie, fifty bro­thers which were begotten by his owne father Artaxerxes, by diuers concubines. But this doting King (as it chanced) al­though he had made himselfe a subiect to his prowd sonne, yet by good helpe of his nobles, he detected the cause, and found out the treason. And in the same day that Darius made account to accomplish his wicked enterprise, he was himselfe and all the rest of the confederates taken, and fell into the same snare that they had prepared for their aged father: for Artaxerxes put both them, their wiues and children to the sworde, that none of that wicked race should remaine aliue, the aged King for verie griefe that he had conceiued by his owne follie, soone ended his life, a more happier King than a father. It were but a tragi­call historie of Leyr, sometime King of this land, which is so sufficiently set down and made manifest in their English Chro­nicles, what enormities, calamities and infinite miseries, hap­ned to him, by the fond and doting loue which he bare towards [Page 53] his daughters. For by a foolish conceipt which he had taken to­ward them, so farre doating in an vnmeasurable sort, and as it were being ouer much blinded with a fond conceipt and foolish affection towards the yong nice wenches, that hee must néedes (forsooth) diuide his Kingdome betwixt them in his life, & wil­lingly dispossesse himselfe, standing euer after to their reward & courtesie. Thus when hée had displaced himselfe, and deuision of the Kingdom was made ioyntly to the vse of his daughters, being bestowed and married in seuerall parts of the Land, hée himselfe thought good to remaine a time with the one, and as long a space with the other, vntill the good olde King had tyred both his daughters; who soone began to be wearie of their aged Father, denying and abbridging him in a maner of things ne­cessarie and néedfull: so that the poore old King was forced tho­rough extreame néede to séeke redres at his yongest daughters hand, whom he neuer could well fancie, neither had euer giuen anie thing vnto; remaining out of his Kingdome, because hee had bequeathed her no part thereof: at whose hand the poore distressed King found reliefe and also redresse of his wrongs, to his great comfort in his olde age. Thus it remaineth euident & extant at this day, what miseries, calamities, enormities, infinit troubles and dayly vexations, consequently doo fall to man by that fond conceipt in doating folly, inordinately louing and im­moderately fonding ouer wife, sonne, daughter, or others who­soeuer, as the tenor of our conference hath hethertoo tended and expressed: therefore my good friend, leauing to your considera­tion our former speaches, to be well and diligently noted, wher­by I may somewhat hereafter perceiue that you are profited, and then I shall thinke my paines well bestowed, and our first méeting right happie. And now in the meane time for the bet­ter recouerie of your memorie, and also beeing loath to trouble your senses with ouer much tediousnes, I willingly craue par­don to rest, vntill our next méeting, expecting at this time no further replication, but committing our conference to the safe tuition of your memorie. Farewell.

FINIS.

The miserable calamities, and lamentable distresses of bloudie Battaile and ruinous Warre, with the vnspeakable mischiefes that consequently follow­eth disdainfull enuie.

WHereas diuers calamities and mise­ries incident to man, are alreadie suf­ficiently explayned and set downe; wherein he wilfully runneth to perdi­tion and present destruction, by his in­ordinate and vnsatiable appetites: not withstanding there remaineth as yet vnspoken of the greeuous enormities of despitefull Warre, with the infinite miseries and distressed calamities thereunto belonging, which also hapneth to man by his immoderate and vntollerable pride. But now first to decipher the cruell state of ruinous Warre, it hath béene most vainely prooued by Logicall probations, that Warre is incident and vneuitable to a Common wealth. For (as they say) Warre bringeth ruine, ruine bringeth pouertie, pouertie procureth peace, and peace in time increaseth riches, riches causeth statelinesse, statelinesse increaseth enuie, enuie in the end procureth deadly mallice, mortall mallice proclaim­eth open warre and battaile: and from warre againe as before is rehearsed: so that by this argument, the weale publike must either be in pouertie or els in war, (which truly we oftentimes sée to fall out accordingly). But is this sophisticall argument of sufficient force to blinde and cloake the badde corruption of mans nature, as though riches were master to the man, & not the man ouer his riches; either is it consequently incident vnto him that is rich, to carrie mallice, enuie and mortall hatred in his minde, or otherwise to him that is in pouertie to séeke for peace; Then let vs attribute it to the whéele wherein one thing successiuely followeth another, and not to bee redressed by the prouident gouernment of man. Surely I am not of that mind, although riches doth oft abuse the man, and the man his riches yet notwithstanding it is no generall consequent, that all rich [Page 54] men are malicious persons, séeking after ruinous warre & bloo­die battaile: for then should I thinke it a vaine thing for a man to striue with the corruption of his nature, to preuent and dis­appoint such miserable calamities by his prouident wisedome, as maye after incidently happen and fall out; but rather wish him to runne headlong with his vnbridled affections to such ca­suall chaunces, as may (howsoeuer the world falleth out) come to passe. But truly I am of this opinion, that whosoeuer hath the gift of temperance, can neither bee proud in authoritie and high dignitie, whereby mallice and enuie maye growe and en­crease; nor in pouertie to be so vnsatiable couetous, that suffici­ent shall not serue him; but whether riches encrease, continue, or diminish, no doubt but that Temperance hath such a proui­dent foresight and prudent care to holde it selfe content without battaile. Wherefore to make frustrate this former fond Argu­ment, Warre is not so incident to man, but that by wisedome it may easely be preuented.

But now to returne to our purpose againe concerning the calamitie of warre;Iustin. li. 1. the ancient Historiographer Trogus Pom­peius reporteth, that Ninus King of Assyria first made warre, being stirred vp with pride and couetousnesse, and first of all o­thers assayed to bring other Nations and Regions vnder his subiection, fighting with his neighbours and confines for supe­rioritie, wherein he made great effusion of bloud and mightie slaughters of people. Yet notwithstanding the same Trogus affirmeth, that there were certaine Kings before him, who in­uaded barbarous Nations and rude Regions, to the intent to bring them to be ciuill people. For (saith hee) Fuere quidem temporibus antiquiores Vexores rex Aegypti, & Scythiae rex Tanais, quorum alter in Pontum, alter in Aegyptum exces­sit: sed longinqua, non finitima bella gerebant; nec imperium sibi, sed populis suis gloriam tenebant, contentique victoria, imperio abstinebant. There were before him, Vexores King of Aegypt, and Tanais King of Scythia, the one going into Pō ­tus, the other into Egypt, and making warre a farre off, and not on their neighbors: neither did they séeke to get principalitie to themselues, but perpetuall glorie to their Countrey men, con­tenting themselues with victorie, refrained to holde them vnder [Page] subiection, sauing in repressing their barbarous maners. Ther­fore saith Pompeius; Ninus was the first that made warre, be­cause he inuaded his confines and borderers, striuing for regi­ment, fighting for superioritie, and earnestly going about to get the Kingdomes of his neighbours vnder his subiection; and not these Kings who sent their power into forraine countries, to tame and make ciuill such barbarous people, and to bring them to good gouernment, and then to leaue their kingdomes to their owne authoritie. But Ninus hath béen so rightly imitated and iustly followed, that at this day warre increaseth of trifling cau­ses, to most bloudie battaile. Did not the cruell warre of the Persians growe of a small occasion and grudge betwixt Menā ­der Samius, and the Athenians. Also the bloudie conflict called Praelium sacrum, began about the exaction of the iudgement of the Amphictions? the Cheronean warre bred of a light occasi­on betwixt Philip & the Athenians. Which warres, although they sprang but of friuolous causes, could not be ended without great slaughters. Therefore it is an easier thing to begin war, than to end it: wherefore a man ought first to haue a care howe to finish that which he taketh in hand, or else he runneth blindly to his enterprise, hauing also consideration, that whosoeuer shal first begin warre, sounding the trumpe of defiance vpon small occasions, doth as it were open his gate to be spoyled, as well of the forren as domestique enemie; such misgouernment & dis­order there is in warre: for the rude and vnbridled rascall doth gape after so fit an opportunitie, to deuoure, spoyle and rob the honest and true subiect, boystrously intruding himselfe into the houses, & arrogantly challenging to be partakers of the goods & substance of the quiet people, which they haue long time trauel­led for with great paines and carefull toyle, so that he who can­not be content to enioy and possesse his owne proper goods pri­uately with quietnes, let him proclaime open warre, & hee shall soone be rid of that griefe. Who is so prone to bloudie broyles, as such as haue by euillhusbandrie (as they terme it) spent their lands,Salustius li­bro. 2. goods and substance, in vaine pleasures and vile follies? Was not Rome in great perill to haue béen spoyled by a nota­ble crue of bankrupts. For Lucius Sergius Cataline, a noble mā of Rome, when hee had by riot spend his patrimonie, beeing [Page 55] altogether vnable to maintaine his prodigalitie and wanton vaine in immoderate spending, went about to spoile, sack, and destroy his owne natiue citie and countreymen, associating to him in this his greeuous conspiracie, such outlawes and bank­routs as either stoode in feare of a law, or els such vnthrifts as himselfe, as had wantonly and most vainly spent and consumed their goods and possessions, which presently were as soone allu­red, as himselfe was ready to entise, hoping to be made rich by the spoile of their owne countreymen, when they had vnthrifte­ly wasted their owne. This rable rout of vnbrideled riotors had wrought their mischieuous purpose to such effect, that their wic­ked enterprice had taken place, if by the prouident & wise fore­sight of Cicero it had not beene preuented, neither was it kno­wen that any one Roman of good gouernment, or any one that liued orderly in the commonwealth, without riot or other bad and lewd conuersation, was found culpable or gilty in this dan­gerous conspiracie, although diuers principall and chiefe men at the first were suspected, notwithstanding they were in the ende cleerely defended, and apparantly freed from that slaun­derous reproach and ignomie by their owne Citizens.Liu. li. 5. Did not Brennus in like manner leade and conduct a mighty & huge bande of Gaules, who had before spent their goods by ryot, pro­digalitie, and disordering themselues in many bad and vile mis­demeanors, spoyling and robbing most vnmercifully the coun­treys as they marched, committing sacriledge, with a number of most vile villaines, to recouer againe their former vaine expē ­ces? Did they not in the end after many cruell acts, vnsatiable spoyles, and shamefull robberies, most miserably perish, to the wonderfull example of such spoyling outlawes? What was the cause that the Troyans inuaded Italie, making such hauock and spoyle in what countrey soeuer they arriued, but their greedy & couetous mindes to recouer their vnthriftie losses? For when they had by their own vnfaithfulnes greatly abused their frends the Greekes, with a most shamefull abuse, the Greekes in re­uengement thereof sacked and spoyled their citie, slaying and murthering the vnfaithfull Troyans; sauing certaine which af­terward made warres in Italie, which were saved at the destru­ction of Troy, for betraying their king and citie into the hands [Page] of the Grecians, this remaine of the disloyall Troyans so scoured and pilled the coastes of diuers countreyes, to get and take per­force whatsoeuer they could finger, arriued at the last in Italy, where they made sharp warre, spoyling the people, and wasting the Countrey, vntill such time as they had taken the whole re­gion from the lawfull inhabitors thereof. Thus it is most eui­dent, that first warre is begun and set forward either by the vn­satiable person, or els by the rebell, bankrout, or outlaw: the one to satisfie his vnbrideled appetite, plaguing diuers for his owne priuate gaine: the other for his misgouernment and disobedi­ence both to Prince and law, to whom warre is swéete and most pleasant to answere their gréedy expectation withall. But war to the contented person and quiet subiect, is a hell, and the very scourge of God, the name whereof is most odious and terrible to the quiet minde, for it bringeth all miseries and calamities to man, as namely, plague, pestilence, sodain death, murther, bloudy battaile, cruel slaughters, miserable destruction of many towns, ouerthrow of stately cities, sword, fire and famine, with a thousand miseries incidert to man by such a spiteful guest. The olde prouerbe saith, Dulce bellum inexpertis, sed acerbum expe­rientibus. Warre is sweete and pleasant to the vnskilfull and ignorant, but bitter and vnsauerie to the skilful. Yet notwith­standing, although war be most fierce and cruell, yet is it stoutly to be maintained against the vnsatiable and inuading enemie, and with might and maine to be folowed, to the beating downe and suppressing of such spitefull foes, as are euer ready prest and bent to disturbe a quiet and peaceable kingdome, & being blin­ded with auarice, doe right soone consent to lamentable slaugh­ters and effusion of bloud: it is much more easier to defende a kingdome being already possessed, and to repell the aduersarie, than to inuade other regions, or conquere forraine countreis, for it is to be thought that the people will fight more couragiously, both for their prince, coūtrey, libertie, wiues and children, house and familie, than the proud inuading enemy, who fights to sa­tisfie his vainglorious minde, and vnsatiable appetite. Was not Xerxes king of Persia (when he inuaded Greece with such an innumerable power, who also perceiuing the strēgth of his mul­titude, commanded both sea and laud to obey his pleasure) driuē [Page 56] back out of Greece by a small companie of the defending Gre­cians, causing him to flie with spéede home to his owne Coun­trey againe to his great shame and dishonor.Polib. li. 6. Was not such in­uading the very chiefe and originall cause that the Romanes subdued Carthage, for if the proud and vnsatiable Carthaginiās had not first inuaded Italie and the Romanes, their owne Citie and commonwealth could neuer haue béene ouerthrowen, and subdued. For when first the Carthaginians entered Italie, min­ding to make a whole conquest of the Roman empire, without cause at that time offered by the Romanes, the Romanes then seeing their Empire in danger, their whole state in perill, their wiues and children likely to be spoyled, the Citie defaced, and their countrey vtterly to be ruinated and destroyed: they then with manly courage, and specially by the good help of the wise and valiant Scipio, repelled them Italie, draue them home into Affrike, & in the end to the very walles of their chiefest refuge, which was to the stately towne and citie of Carthage: & there in the last battaile they were ouercome by the Romanes, and forced to sue for fauour at the handes of them whom before they had inuaded. The noble Scipio considering that in that battaile did consist and depend the victorie and whole ouerthrowe of one of those who stately Empires of Rome and Carthage. And thus in this battaile they on both sides were stirred and pricked for­ward in hope of possessing each others Empire, had no other meanes to animate and encourage his souldiers, than by repea­ting and reiterating vnto them the perill of their owne estate, and with what cruell and bloudy mindes the greedy Carthagi­ginians had inuaded them before. Promising them futher (to the intent to pricke their mindes forward more willingly to fight) that if at that time and in that fight they did get the victory, thē they should returne home to their owne countrey, carying with them libertie for euer, and neuer againe to feare such cruel inua­sion as before they had tasted of. For saith he, Adesse finem belli in manibus esse predam Carthagenis, si forte pugnauerint, &c. The war is euen now at an end, the pray and spoyle of the Car­thaginians were already in their hands, and leaue should be gi­uen them, after this victorie, to returne home to their coūtrey, parents, wiues and children, and to their houshold Gods,

[Page]So by the encouragement of the worthy Scipio, they obtei­ned a most triumphant victorie, returning to Rome, hauing cō ­quered the causers of that bloudy war;Iust. li. 1. which they could neuer haue done, if the Carthaginians first had not made them despe­rate by inuading their Region. Also in the great warres & sharp fight betwixt the Medians and the Persians, in the time of Ci­rus and Astiages, there hapned a notable thing, which in this cause doeth merite remembrance. For when the Persians vnder the conduct of king Cyrus, were driuen backe, and forced by A­stiages and the Medes to retire, being most eagerly chased by the fierce inuading foe, with cruell force and bloudy minds, vn­till the Persian women rebuked the cowardlines of their flying men, in this sort; Nam matres & vxores eorum obuiam occur­runt, orant in prelium reuertantur, cunctantibus sublata veste, obscoena corporis ostendunt, rogantes num in vteros matrum vel vxorum velint refugere. The men by this sharpe reprehension of the women, went backe againe into the battaile, and put vnto shamefull flight those who before had caused them to retire. For then they bethought themselues whether they should flie if they lost their owne kingdome, thinking it very harde to liue and in­habite vnder the rule and dominions of other, when as they could not enioy and quietly possesse their owne patrimony: and also when they looked backe toward their women, who came vpon them in such vndecent sort as hath before beene shewed, they were greatly ashamed considering their own cowardlines, who were faine to be stirred vp, and put in minde by their vali­ant women to defend their countrey and familie. Therefore the arte of warre is to be exercised, and the feates and actes of chiualry highly to be commended, not so much for the inuading of others,Valer. f. 345 as for the defending of their owne, and beating down of the prowde vaunting foe. This was an auncient order & cu­stome amongst the Romans, to set open the Temple gates of Ianus in the time of warre, and in peace to close them vp again, for when they had thorowly seene the mutabilitie and vncertain­tie of frowning battaile, and the casualties of cruell warre, be­ing ouerwearied and tired with the calamities and miseries thereof, at last they erected and buylded a temple in their city, placing therein the image and picture of Ianus, which was [Page 57] pictured with a bifronce or double forhead, looking plainely and sensibly both wayes, the temple dores and gates beeing closely bolted, locked and shut vp in time of peace & tranquilitie; and in the time of warre (either forrein or ciuill) they commaunded to vnlocke and set ope the gates of the same temple: to this end & purpose, that the people of the Citie, might thoroughly behold the double face and backward looke of Ianus, which signified and represented to the beholder, a foresight of future thinges finally to happen, aswell as for the prouision of the present state. Thus it was continually vsed in peace to be shut, and in warres to bée open, wherby both the Senators, Centurions, Captaines and other Officers and Gouernors of the people, were put in minde (in the time of warre) to haue a prouident foresight & circum­spect care what might happen thereby, therein, or thereafter, as well as what séemed to stand good by their present knowledge. Which prudent policie caused the wise Romanes to preuent di­uers inconueniences: for it is not good ouer blindly to goe for­ward in such causes, trusting to their own force, nor to fickle for­tune, who commonly deceiueth those that trust her. It fortuned vpon a time that Dionysius the second,Eli. lib. 5. and Philip the sonne of Amintas met together, and falling into communication of ma­nie matters (as the vse and custome is in conference & circular talke) they harped both vpon this string, Philip asked this que­stion of Dionysius Quando cum tantum regnum accepisset à pa­rente, non id defendisset & conseruasset; How it chanced, that he hauing receiued so ample a patrimonie of his Father, did not defend and maintaine the same. Whereunto he made this an­swere; Non mirum, Responsio Dionysij. quoniam omnia relinquens, fortunam solùm qua ea parauerat, & tutus fuerat, pater non mihi tradidit. No maruell (saith he) for my father leauing all things to me in a­bundance, did not deliuer to me withal his flourishing fortune, whereby he obtained, and maintained the same. But truely where fortune (most commonly) is present and waighteth at will and pleasure,Pol. li. 7. there is wanting a satisfied mind, which was verefied by the Legates of Carthage. For when the Romanes had vtterly ouerthrown and subdued them, they were forced to sue to the Senate of Rome for peace, in which ambassade their was a graue Father of Carthage who boldly stood foorth in the [...] [Page] the Romanes (as thy first motion was) rather than to mooue warre, which dooth so happely fall out to the great honor of the Carthaginians, no Hanno, now I warrant thée, we shall heare a Senator of Rome speake héere in the Senate house of Car­thage, most humbly crauing peace at our hands for their distres­sed Countrey and Commonwealth, or els farre greater spoiles of Rome shall come to Carthage. Whereunto the graue Han­no made this sober answere; I was determined (saith he) Fa­thers conscript, at this time, in your so great and common ioye to haue spoken nothing which might haue béen displeasaunt to you: but I can now doo no lesse but answere the rash Senator, that enquireth whether the warres begun against the Romanes forethinke me or no? To him I answere that I still forethinke it, and blame our victorious Captaine, vntill I sée the warre ta­ken vp and finished by some tollerable condition, neither shal a­nie other thing cause me desist from desiring our ancient peace, saue onely a newe league confirmed betwixt vs. This newes which Mago hath blazed abroad, are verie ioyfull to Hamilco and other of Hannibals friends and seruants, and to me also if we take our good fortune while it is offered: but if we let it passe and the time also, in which we may be thought rather to grant peace than craue it, I doubt lest this ioy wil deceiue vs & come to nothing. With these, and such like speaches by him vttred in the Senate, he quietly made an ende: but Hamilco and the rest of the Senators gaue no regarde to his Oration, for that they thought it either procéeded of méere mallice betwixt Hanniball and him, or els to holde downe or kéepe vnder the glorie and re­nowme of flourishing Carthage, which in déede was not anie thing so.

Thus, for the true meaning of Hanno, he was openly check­ed in the Senate by the vainglorious Senatours: who after­ward (but not in time) remembred his counsaile, beléeuing no­thing that hee said at the first, vntill experience had made them throughly féele their owne folly. On the other part, after diuers great ouerthrowes and bloudie slaughters of the halfe vanqui­shed Romanes, Poli. lib 5. the distressed Senators did choose for their chief Captaine to fight against Hannibal and the Carthaginians, Q. Fabius Maximus, a most noble and prudent Senator: also at [Page 59] that time with him a young Gentleman of Rome, named Mi­nutius, who was in like sort by the Senate made master of the horsemen, being a hotspur, an ouer desperate youth, which af­terward turned the Romanes to much displeasure and miserie. Now Fabius being thus vnequally paired with a wilful fellow marched forward toward the Carthaginians, and had alway a circumspect care least that he should committe any thing ouer rashly, being not willing desperately to hazard his charge, and the whole state of the Roman Empire at the first brunte, or in one battaile, with so valiant a Captaine and worthy souldier as Hanniball was, wherefore he led his army by easie iorneyes, and good espies, into the field against his enemie, pitching his campe in the high places of the high hilles not farre from the Carthaginian campe: whereupon Hannibal seeing anew cap­taine of the Romanes, thought good also to offer him present battaile, to welcome him at his first comming, brought his men foorth into the fields, in order of battaile, and good aray to fight: but wary Fabius all the day kept him selfe close in his Campe, and would not suffer his men to fight, for that he knew Hanni­ball went about to proue him, if in case he might find him rash, and vnaduised, as he had found the other captaines before: ther­fore in like case by holding his men from battell, he went about to trie and proue the patience of Hanniball, which indeede hee right wisely found out: for Hanniball, when he perceiued that Fabius would not rashly venture battaile, he foorthwith retired out of the field into his campe againe, fearing greatly in his minde the sobernes of the wise Romane Captaine, being in his iudgement a man much vnlike to Sempronius, or Flaminius, whom before he had ouerthrowen by their rashnes and desperate follie.Sem [...]roni­us. But Minutius master of the horsmen, when he had espi­ed the Carthaginians marching in order of battaile, would needes haue issued out on the brauado, and geuen them downe­right battaile▪ in this his rash and desperate moode, hazarding all at one time, had not the wise Fabius withholden and perswa­ded him to the contrarie. For which cause he openly exclaimed on, and dispraysed the slacknes of Quintus Fabius, sending worde to Rome what a coward they had placed in office. Yet notwithstanding, for all the inuentions of Minutius, who had so [Page] [...] [Page 59] [...] [Page] earnestly maligned and inueied against him, both openly by O­rations in the Campe, and also by letters sent to Rome, on set purpose spitefully to worke him displeasure at home with the Senators. He folowed still his wise course and procéeding, in following the enemie from place to place, camping alwais him selfe as neere to Hanniball as conueniently he might, to waite on him at all assayes. Which thing was as vnpleasant to Hā ­niball his foe, as to Minutius his fellow. For he right well did know, that vnlesse the Romanes would venture battaile, hee could not long remaine In Italie, which thing also the wise Fa­bius diligently heeded and noted. But nowe, although Fabius had saued many thousād of the Romans from the cruell slaugh­tering hand of Hanniball, by his great wisdome in abstayning from battaile, and in dayly preuenting of the enemie from their purposes, which otherwise woulde haue turned the State to great dammage and perill: neuerthelesse it was thought at Rome that his heart fayled him, and that he trifled out ye time onely to the intent his honor and dignitie might the longer con­tinue, and that he cared not what coste the Citie was at, so that he still might be in office, and liue with honor. Thus by his pro­uident wisdome and carefull foresight he had gotten many ene­mies at Rome, and especially by the meanes of this young hotespur Minutius, insomuch that he departed from the camp, and went to the Citie to answere the ouer-light beleeuing Se­nators, who so hardly had conceiued of him. It so fortuned at that time when he was in Rome, that word was brought to the Senat from Minutius, who gouerued the armie in the absence of Fabius, that he by his valour and pollicie had geuen Hanni­ball a great ouerthrow: which indeede was partly true, for the wily Hanniball had gotten certain knowledge by his espials, how the case stoode betwixt Fabius and Minutius, and also that Fabius was now in some displeasure at Rome, by the meanes of Minutius their young Captaine, wherfore he began to prac­tise wholy to thrust Fabius (whom he feared) into vtter hatred and displeasure with the chiefe Senators and gouernours of Rome.

By which meanes the Romanes (peraduenture) might com­mitte the whole armie to the gouernment of Minutius, and so [Page 60] displace Fabius, whose wisdome and policie alway made the e­nemie to feare and dread him. Wherefore the subtile Hanni­ball knowing that already the Romanes had conceiued a very good opinion, and good liking of their young couragious Cap­taine, if now therefore he should geue in the absence of Fabius some small victorie to Minutius, that then the Romanes would be in further liking of him, insomuch that they would repose further trust in him: by which meanes he hoped soone to be the Lorde ouer all Italie. With these considerations Hanniball brought foorth his armie, for he knew full well that Minutius would presently fight, which fell out accordingly. Hanniball had in that fight slaine sixe thousand men, and so gaue grounde and retired into his Campe, before the fierce pursuing Minuti­us. Notwithstanding, it was no great victorie to the Romanes, for they lost in the same fight fiue thousand. But Minutius be­ing right ioyfull of this his good fortune, foorthwith sent vaun­ting word thereof to Rome, that they might perceiue, this hée had done in the absence of Fabius, and greater exploites hee would haue done, if he had not beene hindered heretofore by the slacknes of Fabius. By meanes of these his boasting letters the whole Citie was much comforted, notwithstanding Fabius (when all the Citie was merry and in common ioy) would ne­ther credite the newes, nor beleeue the letters. At the last he said; If all were true that was reported, hee rather greatly feared their prosperous and fortunate aduenture, than any way reioyced therein. For he was assured of (he said) and ve­ry well knewe the subtile sleightes and pollicies of craftie Hanniball.

For which words he was euen in the Senate house among them all openly rebuked by Marcus Metellus, who saide and affirmed, That he kept his Souldiers and men of warre in their Campes, more like Captiues and Prisoners, than men of warre. And especially it was not to be suffered, that hee himselfe (their chiefe gouernour and Generall) being pre­sent amongst them, would not onely permitte and suffer a­ny thing to be done valiantly against the enemies, but now also being absent, held against the thing that was well done by the master of his Horsmen.

[Page] Fabius at that time answered fewe wordes, for he thought they would be euill heard, but this he said; Whereas two yeares past the Citie had sustayned great harmes and losses, thorowe the foolish hardines of the desperate gouernors, that nowe hee doubted not but if he might beare rule, and haue his minde without controlment, he would make it euident and manifest to all men, that Fortune could little doe or worke against a good Captaine, but that Wisdome and Reason shoulde haue the dominion ouer all her chaunces. Yet for all that, the Se­nates determination at that time was, that Minutius, who had so nobly behaued himselfe, & gouerned the army in his absence, should be halfe ruler of the hoast with him, and the whole go­uernance thereof to be parted betwixt them both. This fell out right to the expectation of Hanniball, but a heauie and lamen­table hap to Fabius, who tenderly fauoured the welfare of the Roman Commonwealth, and although he could very willing­ly haue yeelded and resigned vp the whole armie, and his autho­ritie there withall to the Romanes, who had offered him this dis­grace, yet notwithstanding, the duetifull care which he had ouer his countrey, and the present perill which hee sawe the whole armie to stand in, caused him to take and accept the half, hoping to preserue them at the least. But Minutius perceiuing himselfe to be had in such estimation at Rome, as well of the common people, as of the Senators themselues, wherefore he was not a little proude, he then began to take much more on him, prowd­ly boasting and vaunting on himselfe, saying; That in their great heauines and calamitie, he alone was found out a Cap­taine able to match with couragious Hanniball. Now fell Quintus Fabius and Minutius to cōference about the gouern­ment of the armie committed to both their charges.Q Fabius Minutius would haue it so parted, that he might beare rule one day or one weeke, and then Fabius to take place the like time accordingly. But this order liked not Fabius, for that he knew how the se­quele would fall out, which he might easilie coniecture by the vnequalitie which was betwixt wilfull Minutius & wilie Han­niball, therefore Fabius would needes haue it deuided betwene them, saying; That if in case he could not by his counsell saue the whole hoast, yet he would assay to saue and preserue halfe [Page 61] thereof as well as he might. Minutius possessing halfe the Ar­mie according to their agreement, disdained to Campe néere to the Campe of his fellow Fabius: but Fabius although he made as light account of Minutius, yet notwithstanding he alwaies carried a vigilant eye whereabout his rash fellow went, that he might be readie if néede should be, for he thought he would soone néede his helpe, (which foorthwith accordingly fell out) for Hā ­niball being thoroughly certefied of these things, presently con­ceiued a double ioy; one was, for that he thought to vanquish the foolish hardines of Minutius, euen as he would himselfe; the o­ther was, for that halfe the power and strength of Fabius was minished, by reason of parting the hoast. Wherefore he neglec­ted no time to intrap and insnare this ouer venterous Youth, who had béen fleshed before with a final victorie; knowing that he could no sooner offer, but Minutius wold he ready to attēpt. Whereupon, when he thought that Fabius had bin far inough from his fellow, so that he could not aide him on the sodaine, he trained foorth to battaile the rash and desperate youth, compas­sing him round about in places of great disaduantage to the Romanes, minding there to giue an vtter ouerthrowe to Minu­tius, (which indéed he had done, if present succour had not bin.) Now Minutius séeing himselfe in great danger, thinking it vn­possible that he should scape that present perill; also, séeing his men slaine on euery side, so that the field was vtterly lost on his part, had not this happie chance hapned, as followeth; Fabius was not so much displeased with the ouerthwart dealing of Mi­nutius, but that he carried a watchfull care to the welfare of his Countrey: for when he espied his fellow and the Romanes in such daunger and distresse, he said; Fortune hath caught their follieno sooner than I feared she would; now he that is ioyned with Fabius in the Empire, hath found Hannibal ouerhard for him both in power and also in fortune: but it is not now time (said hee) to chide, I will referre that till more opportunitie. Then presently caused hee his men to display his Banners be­hinde a hill (for neither his fellowes nor the Carthaginians dée­med that he had béen so néere them) comming sodainely to the aide of his despairing fellowe and the Romanes, whereof some were fled, some slain, and other some flying to saue themselues, [Page] in great distresse; so that they all thought hee came as it were a man sent from heauen to their succours: and before hee coulde ioyne battaile with the Carthaginians, Hannibal called backe his men from chasing anie further the enemie that fled, being so a­fraid at the present approaching of Fabius. Insomuch that hee sodainly withdrew himselfe into his Campe, saying; That hee had ouercome Minutius, but that hee was also ouercome by Fabius. Then some of the dispersed Romanes ran to the campe of Fabius, and the rest that fled before went to Minutius, wher the remnant of the discomfited succors were. Thus when the wilfull Minutius had séene himselfe so deceiued by the flights of Hannibal, & tried the frendly succor of his fellow (whome by all meanes he had sought to discredite,) he called the remainder of his hoast about him, saying; I oftentimes, louing souldiers and friends, haue heard say, that he is most wise that can giue good counsaile, and tell what is to be done in weightie causes; and that he is next wise, that can obay him that giueth good coun­saile: but he that can neither giue good counsaile himself, nor hearken to the graue aduice of the wise, is of al other most foo­lish; now therefore, seeing that the first of these giftes fortune hath denied vs, let vs keepe the second, and while we learne to rule, let vs also purpose with our selues to obay them that bee wise. Wherefore I pray you, let vs now (though too late) ioyn our tents with Fabius, & when you heare me salute him as my father, salute you his soldiours likewise as your noble patrones, by whose strength and hardines this day ye are preserued. In­continently, they remooued to the Campe of Fabius, wherat hee meruailed not a little: now when their legions were met toge­ther, and salutations had, after long protestation made by Mi­nutius to Fabius, they tooke either other by the hand, & the soldi­ers of either dooing the like, Minutius submitted himselfe, and all the authoritie of the Empire (which was committed to him by the Senators) into the hands of Fabius, as a man far more worthie thereof, accounting it rather a burden to himselfe than honor: desiring Fabius that he might be in the office of the ma­ster of the horsmen, as before he was. When this was knowen at Rome, and affirmed to be true, not onely by the letters of the Captaines, but also by the reports of the soldiours of both par­ties, [Page 62] the praise of Fabius was extolled to the verie heauens, re­penting their hard opinion which they had conceiued against him before, confessing openly that they had greatly abused him, in reiecting and condemning his wise and approoued counsaile so foolishly, whose words they had found to be too true, wishing that they had been ruled by so graue and wise a counsailor, now submitting themselues as it were at his feete, requiring him to defend their Countrey by his approoued pollicie and wisedome in so perilous a time, and against so dangerous a foe as Hanni­bal was: but first they felt their owne follie, before they would giue anie credite or audience to the admonition of the wise. Not long after, Paulus Aemilius was chosen Consull, and was to fight against Hannibal: but before he departed the Senate, Fa­bius made an Oration vnto him, in the conclusion whereof, hee said thus to the new chosen Consull; Paulus, if thou doo anie thing, doo it soberly & according to reason, not rashly trusting to fortune: followe not the occasion that thy enemie will giue thee, neither be too hastie; for hast is blinde, and worketh vn­surely. Notwithstanding, Aemilius at that time gaue little héed to the wise precepts of the graue Fabius, saying (for a fashion sake) Indeed they were more true, than easie to bee followed. At the last, this Paulus Aemilius was ouerthrown at the great fight of Cannas, where he lost all his power, and was himselfe sore wounded, whereof he soone died. But before he ended his life, C. Cornelius (a noble Romane) had found him out in the field being halfe couered with bloud: who foorthwith requyred him if he felt anie hope of life, to amount himselfe, and depart the field, and not to make the battaile more dolefull by the death of a Consull. To whom Paulus made this answere; C. Corne­lius, be thou increased in vertue, but beware least while thou bewaile this chaunce, thou haue small time to escape thy selfe: goe thou therefore to the Citie, and bid the Senate, that they make strong their walls before this Conquerour come vnto them: and secretly aduertize Quintus Fabius, that Paulus Aemilius dooth firmely remember his friendly precepts and wise admonitions, yea and liueth in them, and finally dieth in them. Wherewithall he presently died by reason of his mortall wound.

[Page]Wherefore it was well knowen, that if the Romanes at the first had béen directed by the prudent counsaile of wise Fabius, they had neuer tasted of so many calamities and miseries as hapned to their distressed State: but their wilfulnes would not be war­ned before experience had sharply corrected their folly. In like manner, what blame did Cassandra daughter to Priamus king of Troy purchase,Dictys Cre­tensis lib. 3. & Dares Phrigius. li. 1. when first her ouer wilde Brother went to Greece to fetch by stealth faire Helen away, the wife of R. Me­nelaus: for she mainly cried out and prophecied, saying; Whie ye Troyans, will ye suffer my brother Paris to goe fetch fire in Greece to burne the stately towne of Troy: thinke ye that the Greekes will digest so proud an iniurie, O ye foolish Troyans. And againe, when he returned from Greece to Troy with his de­sired pray, she with might and maine cried, Away with Helen, away againe with Menelaus wife: for she smelleth of the Gre­cian fire that for her cause shall destroy the citie of my father: me thinke I see for her sake, my aged sier slaine, and the Citie of Troy to flow with Phrygian bloud, with heapes of the slain Troyans lying in the streetes, for defending her vniust quarell. Therefore saith she, away with this fire spark, least it consume our towne, and make desolate our stately buildings. Whereat the blinde Troyans laughed, saying, What, is Cassandra madde? knoweth she what she saith? are not the Troyans able to resist the pride of Greece? Let them pick what quarrell they wil, we haue the beautifull Helen within our wals, and will keepe her in the despite of the proud Greekes, betide what may or will. Thus was Cassandra openly blamed both of her brother, and also of the whole Citizens for her wise counsaile, when she most rightly had prophecied. For not long after, the Greeks loathing to suffer the Troyans so to abuse them, in detaining King Me­nelaus wife, came with a mightie and huge armie, and besieged their Citie, and in time tooke it, slaying the people, and vtterly defacing Troy with fire: so that the stateliest Citie of the world, lay flat on the ground. Then could the Troyans say, O Cassan­dra, rightly hast thou said, we finde thy words most true, but we despised thy admonitions, and reiected thy friendly warn­ings: therefore is now this plague iustly fallen on vs. But then as the olde saying is, Serò sapiunt Phryges, they bethought thē ­selues [Page 63] too late: being mad themselues with pride, when first they thought Cassandra mad with folly. Thus somwhat digressing though not altogether from our purpose, in making manifest what the vainglorious and wilfull persons gaine in the end, by not hearkening to the graue aduice & wise counsaile of the pru­dent, but contemning and reiecting the friendly warnings of those, who before haue tried the mutabilitie of vnfriendly For­tune, vntill such time that experience hath caught their follie. But now againe to our purposed procéedings. Hath it not béen séene that the stately pride and loftie lordlinesse of diuers, hath purchased to others great quietnes? Is it not sufficiently kno­wen, that before this last warre betwixt the Carthaginians & the Romanes, there was an auncient peace and league taken and a­greed vpon betwixt them, deuiding their Empires with the ri­uer of Iberius, and that their two Segniories should ioyntly be knowen the one from the other; for that the haughtie pride and loftie statelinesse of them both, could not brook the controlment each of other: therefore they thus diuided their Empires, not tollerating the imperial minds of each other, because they were both a strong and mightie people, still contending vntill that a­greement, which of them both shuld enioy & possesse the whole. This at that time happened thorough the stately pride of them both; There were a people, namely the Saguntines, who dwelt betwixt both their Empires, and deuided their Segniories in equall sort; which people before were vnder the obedience of the Romanes: but now in great controuersie which of those stately Empires should inioy and possesse them, for that it did lye so cō ­uenient for them both. Thus after long contending, when nei­ther partie would yeeld that the other should enioy it, at the last this was agreed vpon betwixt them both; that the Saguntines lying so in the middle, should be a border and bank to both their Empires, remaining a tree people, at libertie frō both their po­wers, neither of them medling with the gouernment of theyr Common wealth, nor troubling their Countrey in respect, vp­pon paine of the breach of auncient amitie: but should let them wholly alone to their owne rule and gouernment.Pol. lib. 2. Thus was Sagunt freed from her proud neighbors, who for a long time had kept her vnder subiection and seruitude, by reason of their impe­riall [Page] mindes, and now againe through their stately pride set at libertie and fréed from such slauerie, as before they were holden in. In like case, when the Athenians and Megarences had ma­nie times fought togeather in diuers most cruell and bloudie battailes for the superioritie and regiment of the Isle Salami­na: hauing on both parts well tyred themselues with the day­ly slaughters and lamentable losses of their people: in the end, being so wearied with the calamities of warre, they were wil­ling on either sior to constitute and ordaine a law, that none vn­der paine of death should dare (on either part) to speak or moue warre against Salamina, but that it shuld be at frée libertie from them both.Diodorus Siculus li­bro 7 Did not Ptolome King of Aegypt, and Antigone Prince of the Phrigians, so mallice and contemne one the other, that to despite and displease each other, they restored to libertie manie Cities of Greece, which were quietly possessed by them before: so that the Grecians although for a time they were re­strained from their libertie, yet notwithstanding they were in the ende againe clearely fréed from such seruitude, by the malici­ous and proud contending of those Imperiall minded Princes. Now whereas our purpose is to showe the inconueniences of cruell warre, rather commending the peaceable and quiet state of the weale publique, than the bitternesse of warre and bloudie fight; neither is my entent so to disswade a Common wealth from the prouision of warre, that in time of néede they should al­together be destitute of armour, men & weapon, to beate downe and kéepe backe the proud inuading foe, but rather exhorting & earnestly wishing them to vse and practise all manner of com­mendable actions in militarie and martiall affaires, to become both expert and skilfull in warlike prowesse, onely to the end to defend their owne quiet and well gouerned Common wealth: but forasmuch as the hazard of battaile and the stay wheron the whole state dependeth, ought not to be giuen and yéelded into the hands of such desperate youths, such fresh water souldiors, and such proud minded perfons, as will neither heare anie friendly counsaile, wise aduice, nor sage warning, of him who hath béene before taught by experience; but will with an ouer­rash and vnbridled selfe will (as they say) with a flantarowe & all a brauado, run headlong without anie good or gouernment, [Page 64] hazarding the spoyle of their souldiers, ieoparding the subuer­sion of a Kingdome, venturing the whole state to them com­mitted in one hower, to the mutable and vnstedfast chaunce of frowning Fortune. There (I say) is to bee expected as great calamitie, as Minutius brought to the Romanes, Hanniball to the Carthaginians, and Paris to the Troians, who by their wil­full follies wrought great miserie to their Countryes: neither is the Enemie to bee repelled, nor battaile to bee prouided for, with superfluous and excessiue brauerie, as though they would contend with feathers, scarffes, trim knackes, and such other painted and gilded stuffe, hoping to daunt and feare the foe with such vaine toyes: Nay surely, it dooth incoruage the Enemie, hoping to recouer that rich pray & spoyle: perswading them­selues that such vaine pride procéedeth from a fond and foolish wit, through which conceipt, the enemie is the more better stir­red to battaile. It may be, that some will obiect this, saying; It is not wisedome nor by anie meanes tollerable, to disswade the yong souldiour from that which dooth increase his courage, more willingly to follow martiall feates, and warlike affaires, saying also, it is for the honour of his Countrey to come to the field like a braue souldiour, meaning by his outward braue at­tyre, gorgeous furniture, and other their ordinarie brauerie by them vsed?

Whereunto I aunswere after this manner. Hanniball, after he had contended in sharpe and mortall warres long time against the Romanes, and was in conclusion beaten out of Ita­ly by the prudence of the valiant Scipio, he fled to King Antio­chus, who at that time had gathered a great power to warre on the Romanes. The Armie beeing in a readinesse, Antiochus called the wife and politike Captaine Hanniball to the top of a verie high hill, shewing him all his whole power (being gathe­red together from all parts of his Dominions, for the same purpose) This Armie was excéeding sure in the Kings opinion for the Souldiours targets glittered all with Orient golde, their armours also wonderfully furnished with golde and rich pearle, to conclude euerie thing marueilous sumptuous and braue.Pol. lib. 2.

Antiochus heereat greatly boasting saide vnto Hanniball; [Page] My good friend, doost thou not thinke this my rich and migh­tie Armie to be inough and sufficient for the proud Romanes? Who presently fell into a great laughter, laughing Antiochus to scorne for his superfluous vanitie, and foolish folly, saving in slouting sort,Responsio Hannibalis Antiocho. Yes truely Antiochus, although the Romanes were the most vnsatiable people, and discontented Nation of the world. Meaning that their rich booties and spoyles would be sufficient and inough againe for the Romanes, knowing not­withstanding that their power would prooue small inough to match with them, for that he himselfe before had well tried and felt their force and strength in warre. Therfore I say, that may not be allowed to encourage the soldiors, which the world may laugh to scorne: the soldior doth get more glorie to his Coun­trey and greater praise to himselfe through his victorious con­quest, than by his ridiculous and superfluous brauerie. Wher­fore in my iudgement it were farre more necessarie, that what cost and charge were bestowed in time of warre, should only be to the preseruation of both Common welth and souldior, which cannot be so well defended with vaine toyes, as with good and warlike furniture. What was the cause that Alexander the great, with so small a number of men, subdued and conquered such a great part of the world? Was it through the youthful­nesse of his Captaines and brauerie of his souldiors? No true­ly, but it came to passe by their braue mindes and ablenesse of bodie, who had hardned themselues to the warre of purpose; and not through their nice brauerie in apparell. For when Alexan­der first set foorth to such a mightie enterprize, his Armie was but 32000. footmen,Iustinus li­bro 10. and 4500. horsemen: which was miracu­lous, that so small a handfull of men should doo such mightie ex­ployts, and goe through so manie strong Nations vnconque­red. The cause why is easely coniectured: for that Alexander alway had this prouident care and foresight in placing officers in his Armie; insomuch that he by no meanes would admit or suffer anie one, to beare rule as a Captaine or Leader in his Ar­mie, vnlesse hee were well knowen to be a man of great graui­tie, wisedome, pollicie, and good gouernement: prouided al­wayes, that he should be a man of the age of 60. yeares, to the intent hee might haue all these aforesaide qualities the better: [Page 65] and also,Ordines quoque nemo nisi sexagenari­us duxit. that no common souldior shoulde be admitted into the hoast, vnlesse he were thirtie yeares old at the least, which was especially to this end, that he might haue both wise leaders, and valiant souldiors, ioyning both policie and force together. Did not he in the warres betwixt him and Darius doe mighty and inuincible exploits by the wise and circumspect guiding of his small army: For in the first battaile betwixt them, Darius lost the field, and had his great army put to flight and slaine, which was sixe hundred thousand strong fighting men in the fieldes of Adrastis, Diodorus resert. where Alexander lost but nine footemen, and an hundred horsemen: and in the second fight betwixt them, Dari­us led foorth against Alexander three hundred thousand foote­men, and of horsemen an hundred thousand, in which conflict the Macedonians slewe of the Persians one and fortie thousand footemen, and of horsemen ten thousand, and tooke prisoners for­tie thousand, there were slaine of the Macedonians a hundred and thirtie footemen,Sic Quin­tus Curtius scribit. of horsemen a hundred and fiftie. Also in the last fight when Alexander won the whole Empire of Per­sia, Darius brought into the field against him foure hundred thousand footemen, and a hundred thousand horsemen which were in this last fight vtterly subdued and ouerthrowne by the wonderfull policie of the circumspect Alexander. In like sort the Greekes, when Xerxes King of Persia inuaded them with seuen hundred thousand of his owne people,Iustin. lib. 2 and thrée hundred thousand strange soldiors, and had on the sea a most mighty and inuincible nauie of shippes; by their wise and carefull gouerne­ment in leading their small hoast, put the mighty Xerxes to flight and all his huge army, causing him to flee priuily and vnknowne, in a small fisher boat home to his countrie againe, to saue his life, to his great reproch and infamie, and to their perpetual praise and glory.Plu. de An­tiocho. Also Machabaeus, the first of that name, with thrée thousand men ouercame and vtterly subdued Lysias the Lieutenant of Antiochus, with fortie thousand foote­men and sixe thousand horsemen, which happened thorowe the the circumspect guiding and carefull leading of so small a pow­er, and not by his rash wilfulnes and vnaduised ventring, ther­fore these examples doe partly purport vnto vs, that the hope and hazard of battel doth wholy consist and depend in the care­full [Page] placing of Officers in the army, knowing the captaines to be men of experience, and graue in wisedome, the Soul­diours at mans estate, with modest gouernement expelling out of the armie all riotous drunkards, lewde companions, dis­ordered fellowes, bréeders of quarrells and dissention, being prone and apt to mooue vproares, mutinies, rebellions, disobey­ing their Captaines and leaders, to the whole subuersion and cleare ouerthrowe of the hoste: for, whereas eyther the armie is gouerned by a drunken disordered Captaine, or the Cap­taine troubled wyth a band or crew of disordered drunkards, there can neither any good exployt goe forward, nor any hap­py euent be hoped after, the learned wise Erasmus sayth: Citi­us enim ex pumice aquam hauseris, quam ebrio, sobrium aut di­ctum aut factum extorseris. For a man may sooner (saith he) draw water out of a hard stone, than to wrest from a drun­ken man eyther anie sober saying or sober deede. And whereas rashnes is, there temperance wanteth, and therefore whatsoeuer happeneth by such vnaduised wilfulnesse, cannot be accounted to chaunce thorough valour, couragious mindes, valiant manlinesse, and such like, but rather by desperate madnesse, wilfull foolishnesse, and such like ouer-rash at­tempts, as commonlie hath more oftner bad successe than happie euent. Alexander, as dooth appeare in these for­mer examples, dooth rather tollerate a yong souldiour, than a yong Captaine, for that the Macedonian Captaines were three score, and the Souldiours but thirtie, because the lea­der shoulde be able both in grauitie, pollicie and wise gouern­ment wyth experience, to direct and guide the Souldiour, and the Souldiour also by those manlie yeares be able to a­bide the brunt and calamitie of warre the better, and all boy­ish toyes, and wilfull rashnesse being layde apart, shall be better furnished to obey his Captaine and leader. Yet not­withstanding, I doo not say, that graue wisedome, wise pollicie,Laertius lib. 7. sage gouernement and prouident foresight, whollie consisteth and dependeth in gray haires, for then it might well bee obiected to mee, as it was to the olde Emperour of Greece. Who when the States of Athens had picked out [Page 66] certaine of the most wisest men of their Citie, and sent them as Embassadours to him, to treat of certaine causes of their common wealth: but the olde doting Emperour, hearing that the Athenians which were come, were yong men of middle yeares, and not graue and olde fathers, refused to conferre with them about their message, not suffering them to bee brought vnto his presence, nothing at all considering on the matter, whether they were wise or no. But by no meanes he woulde heare them, by reason of their yeares, yet he full well knewe, that they were the most wisest that the Athe­nians coulde finde out, notwithstanding vppon their earnest intercession to haue accesse to his presence, hee alway retur­ned this answere, saying, That he would not conferre with such vnwise beardlesse boyes, who by outward viewe had but small experience; Condemning them by his doating iudgement before he had made triall of their wisedome. But the wise Athenians seeing the blinde conceit of the olde Emperour, fayned, that they woulde not at all speake anie thing of their message, if it woulde please the Emperour but to doo them this fauour, as to suffer them for to come into his presence to beholde his person, of whome they had before time so often heard, they woulde thinke their paines right well bestowed, although they had no answere at all of their Embassade. Unto which request the olde Emperour soone graunted, sitting in great maiestie for the Athenians to beholde him. Thus when they were brought before him, they began after this manner to flowe the olde doting Em­perour for his rash iudgement, saying, Most renowmed sir, if the states of Athens, Plus men­ti, quam mentis. had thought that wisedome had cōsisted in gray beards and whitish haires, they (no dout) woulde haue sent for Embassadours to you gray bearded Buckes and Goates, and detained those in Athens still, whose approoued wisedome hath as well beene tried at home in Athens, as also in thy countries of Greece, O thou aged Emperour.

Wherefore, as I haue saide, not altogether condemning yong men as vnsufficient for to haue anie rule or charge com­mitted [Page] to them by reason of their yong yeares, for that oftentimes we sée vaine follie to be couered and shadowed with gray haires, & also wisdome to spring and proceed from beard­lesse cheeks. Yet truely, in mine opinion, graue yeres is part­ly a signe that all youthfull follie, wilfull rashnes, and childish gouernement, is well ouerpassed and laide aside, so no doubt but that there are diuers yong Gentlemen of sufficient experi­ence, grauitie and wisedome, to take charge and authoritie in an army: notwithstanding it is necessary, that both their liues, maners, conuersation and vsuall dealings be thorowly looked into, before they haue any charge committed to them, to the end, they may be the better able to punish vice, execute true iu­stice, and rule with good gouernement in the armie, for no re­medy but that there must be sharpe punishment, seuere iustice, and martiall lawe, in such a multitude of people, to correct the malefactour and lewd fellowe without partialitie for example sake, and to cherish the honest, true, and painefull souldiour, with friendly and good vsage, to encourage others to liue in the army accordingly. The ancient Romanes did alwayes vse sharply to punish and correct the intolerable abuses committed in the host,Poli. lib. 6. Furti poena in castris Roman. for whosoeuer had stolne, purloyned, or filched from his fellow any of his goods, furniture, or other necessaries, which thing being openly prooued by some honest witnes, the offendor was presently iudged to die without partialitie in this sort; the partie being lawfully condemned by the Tribune, he brought foorth a club, and therewithall striketh the offendor, not hurting the partie himselfe, but as it were in token of lawfull conuiction and guiltinesse. Which, when the Tri­bune had done, the whole armie and companie with great fu­rie doo strike and lay on with clubbes, slaues and stones, vntil they haue vtterlie slaine and dismembred the offendor: and if that in the whole Campe there bee anie found that refuse, or would not put too his helping hand so to punish vice in the ma­lefactor, after the Tribune had striken him with his club, such persons for their so refusing, were iudged as aiders and main­tainers of such disordered fellows, so that they euer after were forbidden on paine of death, not to return into their coūtry any more, to their parēts, wiues or childrē, being also vnlawful for [Page 67] them to craue or demaund any necessaries out of their countrey for their maintenance in other places. The Romanes also puni­shed with death him that lacked in the watch, he that forsook the place that was geuen him to fight, he that caried any trifle hid out of the campe, if any man should say he had done some wor­thie thing in fight, and had not done it, if any for feare had cast away his weapon: and when it hapned that a Legion had com­mitted the like fault, because they woulde not put all to death, their names were taken, and put together in a bag, and so by lot they drew out the tenth person, and put those to death. And againe for lesser faults which deserued not death, they sharply punished by whippings, continual stāding, appoynted fastings, and such other paines which they prouided for that purpose. But the good and honest Souldier was courteously entertayned, gently vsed, and much made of, lacking nothing that appertay­ned necessarie to men: whereby it appeareth, that the honest Soldier is frendly to be cherished, and the lewde and disordered sharply to be punished. Which order in euery hoast is carefully to be obserued and kept, and vsed with great discretion and good gouernment by the wise Captaine. But now it may be obiec­ted concerning the hardines of young Captaines, saying; Haue we not knowen or heard of such lustie young Gentlemen, or youthfull Captaines, who by their valiant prowes, and coura­gious mindes, haue brauely and desperatly set vpon such a strong Castle, Towne, or Fort, and being as eager on the ene­mie as a hauke on her pray, haue atchieued most wonderful & notable exploites by their lustie braue courages. And there­fore, say ye, what are young Captaines to be disalowed, & not worthie to beare charge? Whereunto I answere, that although some braue Gentleman, or youthfull Captaine, haue by his des­perate boldnes, or ouer hardie valour obteined or atchieued some notable victorie or great exploite, to the great glory and fame both of his Countrey and himselfe, yet for all that, it is commō ­ly no consequent, that victorie followeth desperate boldnes, nor conquest rash hardines. For although that Fortune at some one time doeth fauour rash attēpts, yet presume not ouer much on her, for she is mutable and vnstedfast, least that subtile Han­niball may insnare wilfull Minutius: Achilles desperat Troy­lus: [Page] and circumspect Themistocles intrap vnaduised Xerxes: Paulus Aemilius, a noble State of Rome, was alwaies woont to say when Fortune fauoured and smiled most of all on him,Liu li 7. & Val. li. 3 that then he mistrusted and feared her mutabilitie most of all. Inso­much that when he triumphed in the Citie of Rome for certain noble actions by him most happely atchieued, seeing the people so woonderfully praise and extoll his name, clapping of their hands, flinging vp their caps, and honouring him in such maie­sticall sort, seeing Fortune so sweetly smile and fauour him, after such an extraordinarie manner, he turned to the people, and said with a lamentable voice, I greatly seare me least that Fortune doeth meane highly to displease and disquiet mee af­ter this her vnaccustomed flatterie. Which indéede fell out accordingly. For the same time returning to his owne house, in this most sumptuous manner, he found his sweete sonnes sodainly dead. The wise and learned Cicero, thorowly percey­uing the vncertaintie and mutable estate of vnfriendly fortune, seeing likewise by his prouident wisdome, how much more prudent counsell and wise gouernment auayleth, than force and strength of the body, was not ashamed boldly to pronounce and declare in his owne behalfe, saying; Plus ego togatus, quàm ar­mati decem. I did (saith he) more by my counsell in the Senat, than ten armed men in the field. Cicero in Offic. And in maintaining of his ar­gument he further said; Dux Agamemnon Greciae nunquam op­tat, vt Aiacis similes decem habeat, at vt Nestoris quandoque. We neuer reade (saith he) that Agamemnon the chiefe ring­leader and Captaine of the Greekes, did euer wish that he had ten strong and forcible men like to Aiax, but sometime hee would wish that he had ten prudent and wise Counsellers like to prouident Nestor. And according to the opinion of learned Cicero, prouident wisdome, and circumspect carefulnesse is ra­ther to be expected in graue and aged yeares, than in greene and youthfull heads. For in his booke de Senectute he doeth al­leadge these authorities,Cicero de Senectute. Apud Lacedemonios quidem ij, qui amplissimum magistratum gerunt, vt sunt, sic etiam nominantur senes. Amongst the auncient Lacedemonians (saith he) those which did beare any high authoritie, were called aged Fa­thers, as indeede they were, otherwise they coulde not bee [Page 68] admitted to such offices. And againe vpon the same occasion he saith thus; Quod silegere aut audire voletis externa, maximas respublicas ab adolescentibus labefactatas, a senibus sustentatas reperietis. If (saith he) either ye will reade or heare outward and forraine examples, ye shall finde that great Common­wealthes and mightie Kingdomes haue fallen and decayed thorow young mens gouernment, and againe how they haue bene vpholden and maintained by the graue, gouernement of olde men. Val. li. 5. When the Romanes were thorowly wearied by the wilfull rawnes of their youthfull Captaines, buying experi­ence (by their dayly sufferance) with extreame losses, and la­mentable slaughters of their people, then in the ende, for redres thereof, they al with one consent constituted and made a decrée, that if any Captaine or Leader in time of warre, should vnad­visedly or sodainly set on the enemie, without the consent or ap­pointment of the Centurion or Captaine generall, yea al­though he vtterly vanquished and ouerthrewe the aduersarie: yet notwithstanding, his ouer rash attempt and wilful boldnes should as gréeuously be punished, as if he had bene enemie to his countrey, for that Fortune might as well haue caught their fol­ly, as fauoured their rash enterprise. Pap. Curtius being Dicta­tor, commanded that F. Rutilius master of his horsmen should be beaten with rods, & after beheaded, for fighting against his com­mandement, though he had the victory. Neither would Papiri­us forgeue the punishment at the intercession of the Souldiers: and when as he Hed to Rome, he also pursued him, neither would he there remit the dreadfull punishment, vntill that Fabius and his father fell down on their knees, and that also the Senat and people made intercession for him. Manlius caused his sonne, (which against his commandement had fought with his enemy that had chalenged him, though he got the victorie) to be beaten with rods, and haue his head stricken of. Thus the Romans pre­uented many miseries, which otherwise might haue hapned to their cōmō sorow & heauines. I would not it should be thought I altogether disalow yong captains, condenming them al with vnaduised iudgement (as the Emperor of Greece did the young ambassadors of Athens) to be either rash, wilful, or foolish hardy, or voyd of any good gouernment: for then should I speak fondly [Page] and vnaduisedly, in ouer rashly condemning their secrete & vn­knowen qualities. When diuers of the aged Consuls & graue leaders,Poll. li. 7. with other worthie Captaines of great experience of Rome, were slaine in the Carthaginian war, and that the whole Romane Empire did shake for feare, hauing none left aliue vnto whom they might trust in this perilous warre to fight against so subtile and craftie a foe as Hanniball was, who before had slaine such a mightie number of their worthy men. Thus being in such perplexitie, lamenting sore their distressed state, and fea­ring the present subuersiō of their Citie, then in this their great extremitie, yong P. Cornelius Scipio, the sonne of that Scipio which before was slaine in Spaine in the same warre by the Car­thaginians, being but three and twenty yeares olde, earnestlie craued of the Senate that he might haue the office and authori­tie to fight against wily Hanniball, who had done them such high displeasure, and made their whole state so pensiue and sad, not doubting but to be reuenged on their enemies for their fore­passed crueltie. But the distressed Romanes seeing the tender yeares of the young Gentleman, were doubtfull to committe such a waighty cause into his hande, some of them speaking a­gainst his yeares, as a man not alowable in such extremitie: and againe some for that his father and uncle were both slaine in the same warre, wherefore, said they, it is greatly to be feared, considering his youthfull yeares, and also the death of his Fa­ther, least that he should be ouer rash in seeking speedy reuenge, to his owne perill, and their losse. Notwithstanding, the graue Senators wisely considering on the cause, seeing the willing­nes of the young man, and his wittie Oration vttered there be­fore them all, at the same time, committed their whole state in­to his hande, who gouerned it with such wise policie, and care­full foresight, that he did not onely match the worthy Hannibal, but also draue him out of Italie & Spaine, who before had viewed the Roman walles, minding foorthwith to haue taken their ci­tie, forcing him also to flie into his countrey of Affrica, and at the last home to the very walles of Carthage, where he vtterly vanquished him, seising on the whole Empire of Carthage, to the vse of the Romanes. Thus when the graue and valiant cap­taines were some slaine, some put to flight, and other some not [Page 69] daring to incounter with such a victorious Captaine as Han­niball was, the yong Scipio by his manly valour, wise policie and circumspect leading of his army, both fréeed his Countrie from such a perillous enemie, and also made the stately Em­pire of Carthage subiect to the Romanes, to the great glorie and renowne of his Countrie, and to the euerlasting remem­brance of his name. In like sorte, Alexander the great, the most famous Captaine and leader that euer liued, was but twentie yeares olde when he ouerthrewe most mightie Kings and strong Princes, with a very small number; therefore wise­dome and pollicie consisteth not in gray haires, nor victorie al­together dependeth in olde age, notwithstanding youth ought to haue a speciall care to ground all their actions vpon tempe­rance, with an open eare to sage aduise and wise counsaile, and then, no doubt, victorie will not altogether consist and depend on fickle fortune. But before I proceede any further to shewe the calamities and miseries of ruinous warre, it shall not séeme amisse to shew what subtile sleights, wise policies, and cunning Stratagems haue beene in ancient time vsed, to delude and mocke the enemie withall, being also things very necessarie, diligently to be noted in these our troublesome dayes.

Certaine Stratagems, and politike practises of worthy warriours, and expert souldiors.

BY as Priennius, Vt Diodo­rus resert. when the Citie of Prien­nia was besieged by the mighty Aliattes, vsed this Stratageme or policie; when the towne could not holde out any longer for want of vittaile for their men, and for­rage for their horses, he turned out of the Citie into the enimies Campe certaine horses and mules which were wonderfull fat, for they were for the nonce fed for that purpose, whereby the enemy might think, and know, that they in the towne had sufficient forrage & pro­uender for their horses, insomuch, that when Aliattes the Cap­taine [Page] of the enemie did see this, he thought indeede, that the ci­tizens had plenty of all things, sending a spie priuily into the City to viewe their abilitie in all respects. Which when Byas had intelligence of, he caused great heapes of sand to be piled vp together, and poured thereon wheat and other grain to make a shew of plenty, giuing further commandement, that no man should trouble or molest the spie, nor make as once they suspec­ted him, but let him haue liberty to passe & repasse at his plea­sure; the spie hauing well viewed all things, soone returned to his Captaine, shewing him of their great plenty and abun­dance of all things; which so soone as Aliattes heard, hee pre­sently remoued his siege and departed, thinking it a thing vn­possible to get the towne before their vittaile fayled, knowing, that hee should want for his companie before those heapes of corne were spent in the City, therefore he with speed marched from the towne, which in short time might haue beene taken by reason of the great scarcity in the City, for the people dyed very fast by famine, crying out dayly to Priennius to yeeld the City and saue their liues, but by this subtile pollicy they were clearely fréeed, to the wonderful ioy of the distressed Citizens. Also when Quin. Fabius Maximus, Poli. lib. 8 had wisely enclosed the wily Hanniball within the straits of Falernia. Formiana keping the mouth of the strait passages so surely, that Hanniball could not passe out, the coūtry also being stony and barren not able to re­lieue his army long, fearing least that if he shuld spend yt proui­sion which he had alredy, he might perish with ye whole hoast be­fore he could get any more in that place, Hanniball seing him­self in such extremity, knowing that he could not giue battel to ye Romans without hazarding his whole power, for that their enemies lay so strongly on the hill tops, being so well backed with fresh supplies if occasion serued, wherfore he was forced to vse this slight and mockerie to beguile and deceiue the Ro­mans, hauing gathered a great quantity of dry rotten stickes wyth rubbish thornes, and such other stuffe fit for his purpose, commanding his men to fetch into the campe so priuily as they coulde, that the enemie might not perceiue whereabout they went,Stratagema contra Ro­manos. al the oxen and lusty beasts that they coulde finde. Now hauyng brought into their campe the number of two thousand [Page 70] lusty beasts, they wyth speede fastned vnto their hornes the a­foresaide dry stickes, keeping them priuily vntill the darke night, so that their inuention by no means might be espied, be­ing once very darke, he caused his armie to be in a readinesse, marching circumspectly vp toward the straights which were strongly kept by the Romanes, making as little noise as they could; being come neere where the enemy lay, hee caused those fagots which were on the oxe horns to be set on fire, stil driuing them before towards the strait, which fire so mightily incresed by the swift running of the beasts, for feeling the heat to come so neere the quicke, they ran forward as if they had been starke mad, puffing & blowing, making such a noise, flinging and tos­sing the flame and sparks, after a most terrible maner, so that it was a wonderfull strange and fearfull sight. The frighted Ro­mans beholding such a miraculous wonder, being much ama­sed on the sudden, for that they suspected no such Stratageme, began to bussel & run for feare, because that horrible sight came stil furiously on them, insomuch, that they were dispersed & scat­tred abroad by the great fright & feare therof, leauing the nar­row places wide open without any force or garde at all, so that Hanniball comming after in good order, did with great ease passe thorow without any resistance; which when the Romans perceiued, they could in no case pursue him, for that their men were so disordered, by running away: thus at last (but too late) they knewe how they were deluded and mocked by the craft of wily Hanniball. Also Hanniball vsed this policie to bring the wise Captaine Q. Fabius Maximus, in mistrust with the Ro­mans, for that he perceiued the sobernes of Fabius, did much in­damage him, who before had tyred and wearied him with dali­ance, committing nothing ouer rashly to fortune; which wise dealing of Fabius, séemed to Hanniball displeasant & altoge­ther repugnant to his nature: wherfore at such time as he knew very well the Romans did beare no great good liking to Fabi­us, by reason of the ouerthrowe which Minutius had giuen to Hanniball in his absence, knowing also that hee was openly condemned in the Senate, either that hee durst not fight wyth Hanniball, Stratagema Hannibalis in Fabi. or else that he did beare goodwill and fa­uour to the Carthaginians, and therefore to bring him in fur­ther [Page] cause of mistrust with the Romans, that also the Senat might easily thinke there were some conspiracie or confederacie betwixt him & Hanniball, he vsed this craftie practise, sending out a great number of soldiors to spoile & rob the Countrey of Italie in diuers places, straitly commaunding them, that they should spare and not once touch the goods, cattells and landes which were knowne to be the possessions of Fabius, but spoy­ling and wasting round about them, they should leaue them whole vnminished, to the end, that the Romans should cōceiue such displeasure against him, as that they might in no case per­mit or suffer him to deale in their affaires, which thing woulde beene most pleasant to Hanniball. And surely, this subtile practise, sounded much to the discredite of Fabius; and had ta­ken further effect, if he by his wise policy had not somwhat qua­lified their hard conceit by this means, presently thereupon he sent his sonne into the country to sell & make away those lands and goods which Hannibal had spared, for litle or nothing, des­pising to possesse any thing which Hannibal preserued; which deed made the Romans somwhat better to think of him. Not­withstanding, though Hanniball was the wisest captain that in those dayes liued, mocking and deceiuing the Romans at his pleasure, yet in the ende, hee himselfe was kindely flouted by a Roman Captain, suspecting no stratagem or policy at all to be practised, insomuch, that on a time when he had long besieged the great city Cassilinum, & could by no means take the Town, he assayed to famish them & make the city perforce yeeld to his mercy, not suffering any necessaries to be brought them. Grac­chus then captaine of a band of Romans which lay thereabout, waiting if Hanniball would remooue his siege, seeing what great extremitie they suffered, receiuing letters daylie from them, which signified in what lamentable case they stoode and what mortalitie was in the city, for want of sustenance, so that they were faine to eate their boots and other straps and thongs of leather, being much moued with these great miseries, & also seeing the Citizens to stand on the walls, to the end, that some dart, shot, or other weapon might abridge and shorten their griefe; yet for all this hee might not fight with Hanniball, although hee surelie thought hee might wyth ease haue rescu­ed [Page 71] the Towne, for that hee was commaunded to the contra­rie by the Dictatour, nowe seeing the Citie in such distresse, and that he might not fight for their succours, he gathered cer­taine corne, and put it into barrels and hogsheads, sending pri­uie word to the towne, that the next night he would sende them downe the riuer with the tide, willing thē to be ready to receiue the barrels as they came, for the riuer came close to their citie. Thus at diuers times he beguiled Hanniball, vntill at last the craft was bewrayed, and then againe the citie disappointed of vittaile. Which when the cownesmen perceiued, they then had no other shift, but secretely to steale out of the towne, and get grasse and rootes such as they could finde, and bring it in for their reliefe. Which Hanniball had soone espied, therefore hee caused the ground thereabout to be plowed vp, to preuent them of that hope also. Then the Citizens séeing there was no way to hold the towne, and saue their liues from the fury of the ene­mie, sent word to Gracchus, that they perforce must yeelde the citie to Hanniball. Whereat Gracchus seeing their great ne­cessitie, requested them to haue patience yet for two or three dayes, also shewing them, that it in case they would follow his his aduice and counsell, he doubted not but shortly to free their citie, and set them at libertie, willing them to take parsnipseede and sowe it on the plowed ground without the Citie, defending themselues manfully for that time if need should be. They all being willing to try what effect this could worke, sowed a great quantitie of parsnipseede on the ground which was plowed vp about the citie. Of which thing when Hanniball was aduerti­sed, hee foorthwith remoued his siege, and departed from the towne, saying; What, shall I stay here vntill these seedes bee rootes, that will I not for ten such Cities as Cassilinum is. Thinking that they had sufficient in the towne to relieue them in the meane time, or els they would neuer haue beene so fonde to sowe their seede. Thus was subtile Hanniball drylie flouted himself, who in sēblable sort had often beguyled others: for the citie could not haue indured the siege foure dayes longer at the vttermost. Yong Pub. Cornelius Scipio being made somwhat wise by the subtile sleights that Hanniball had vsed before in Italie, remembring the craftie policie which was put in practise [Page] to bring Q. Fabius into mistrust with the Romanes, by Hanni­ball, now in the end plagued him with such like practise. For when the Carthaginians were driuen out of Italie, and lost their owne Empire of Affrica, and Hanniball their chiefe captaine forced to flie to Antiochus, who then had prepared a great ar­mie to warre on the Romanes. At the same time this young Scipio was sent by the Senate to Antiochus, to know why hee prepared himselfe to warre on the Romanes, his friends, and be­ing there arriued, he perceiued that it was much by the instiga­tion and pricking on of Hanniball their auncient enemie, who already had gotten full graunt to leade and conduct halfe the po­wer of Antiochus against the Romanes, both for his great wis­dome, and policie and also for his approued experiēce, as well in the countrey of Italie, as of the Romanes themselues. Which thing yong Scipio diligently noted, fearing least the Romanes should be againe troubled with such a cunning warrior and ap­proued Captaine as Hanniball was. To preuent which cause he practised this meane: He would often frequent the compa­nie of Hanniball, falling into friendly conference about the battailes fought betwixt them before in Italie, and Affrica, feeding and pleasing the humor of Hanniball, least that hee might leese his companie, and so faile of his purpose: for his meaning was, by priuie speech and communication with him, to bring Antiochus in mistrust of him, to the ende he should not committe his power into his hand. Thus dayly Scipio vsed the companie of Hanniball, comming priuely to his lodging, se­cretly talking and conferring with him, making as though An­tiochus or his companie should not once suspect him, wherfore he would most commonly come in the night, yet he woulde e­uer chuse and picke out such a time, that he would be seene by some of Antiochus his friendes, to the ende the cause might the more be suspected, and also if in the day Hanniball and hee had beene in any conference of causes, so soone as he had espied ei­ther Antiochus himselfe, or any other of his friendes, then hee foorthwith would holde his peace, & sodainly depart, as though he woulde not haue them to heare what conference they had: which indeede was nothing but what they might haue heard ve­ry well without offence.

[Page 72]This inuention of last fell out accordingly, and happy for the Romanes, for Antiochus grewe greatly to suspect their priuie meetings, and secrete whisperinges, fearing least there were some compounded trecheries agreed vpon betwixt them. And further, for that Scipio had alwaies so praysed the wisdome, po­licie, and circumspect carefulnes of Hanniball openly, to be both the wisest captaine, carefullest Leader, and valiantest man that then liued, saying; Happie were the Souldiers that marched vnder his conduct. Which thing Antiochus liked not well of, thinking that Scipio did it for this purpose, that he should cōmit his armie into the handes of Hanniball, and then to be betray­ed, as their secrete meetings argued. Wherfore he would not that Hannibal should bear any charge of his, being so cōuersant with his enemie, saying he was glad he had so found out their practise, before it took effect, and that yet it rested in him to pre­uent their inuention. By this stratageme Scipio set frée the Ro­mans from such a politike captain, that had so spoyled their coū ­trey before, which otherwise by quarreliing against him, coulde neuer haue been brought to passe, but would haue turned ye Ro­manes to much sorow.Strategem. contra Ap. Poli. Also Hasdruball vsed this subtiltie to es­cape the hands of Appius Claudius, the Roman Consal: for be­ing inuironed with difficult passages, the mouth & easiest way whereof the Romanes held and possessed, so that Hasdruball & his army could not escape out any way without great danger of losing his whole hoast. Wherefore he sent to Appius, shewing him that if they could agrée vpon certaine articles, he would be content to depart the countrey, and render into his hands other townes and castles which he had in kéeping. Which thing plea­sed Claudius well, hoping to free that countrey without battail from so dangerous a foe. Wherefore he willingly consented to the parle, appointing time and place for their méeting, where there were bookes and articles drawen betweene them, for the assurāce of both their promises. Their méeting thus continuing thrée or foure dayes together, Appius Claudius suspecting no craft, for that the motiō came first by Hasdruball himself, thin­king that all things were plainly and simply meant, without fraude or deceite.

Now Hasdruball in the meane time euery night sent part [Page] of his armie with their grosse cariages, ouer certaine straite and perillous places, which could neuer haue beene passed, if the Romanes had knowen thereof, himselfe euery day came foorth of the Campe to meet Claudius, where they argued of waighty causes, and were at a full composition, sauing that their agree­ments were not confirmed and sealed, which Hasdrubal shifted off in this sort, saying that he would be so bold with Claudius, as to conferre with his frendes the next day in his Campe, which day also, he sayd, was euer kept holy among the Cartha­ginians, and therefore he craued such like fauour at the hands of Appius, with this knot also, that they might be suffered quietly to peruse and conferre on those couenants & agreements, with­out any skirmish or battaile offered for that time, promising the like for his part, that his armie should neither inuade the Ro­manes, nor trouble any of their frends as that day of truce, pro­testing further, that the next day his determination shoulde bee plainly declared to Appius and the Romans. Now was Appius well quieted in his minde, for that he hoped euery thing woulde effectually fall out; yet for all that, he gaue no great trust to the promise of Hasdruball, for not inuading his men the next day. Wherefore he caused watch and warde with good order to bee kept circumspectly in his campe, to be ready if neede should re­quire. But Hasdruball minded nothing lesse, than to inuade the campe of the Romanes, but rather sought how to deliuer him­selfe and his people out of that dangerous place: therefore hee neglected no time in folowing so waightie a cause. Insomuch, that the same night he stole out of his campe, with the rest that remayned behinde, as close and priuely without noyse as they might, ayding and helping one another ouer those harde passa­ges, which was wonderfull difficult to them by reason of the darkenes of the night. But in the ende they well escaped the danger, and were by the daylight safe inough from the Ro­manes.

Appius hauing intelligence in the morning of the escape of Hasdruball, did then presently pursue after him, but all in vain; seeing himselfe thus flouted by Hasdruball, then hee thought full well that he might cancell the agreements, and burne the bands, repenting his follie too late in suffering his enemie so [Page 73] easily to scape out of such a perillous straight. L. Silla in the warres against Archelaus, Mithridates lieutenant at Pirea, perceiuing his souldiors had little courage to fight, he so wea­ried them with continual labour, that they were glad to desire to fight, that the warres might be ended. Also Cyrus king of Persia in the wars betwixt him & Astyages king of the Medes, Iustin. li. [...]. minding to stirre vp the minds of his souldiors fiercely to giue battaile to their enemy, vsed this policy, he wearied them with paineful labour all one day, in hewing downe a certaine wood, and on the morrow after, hee made a plenteous feast for them, demaunding in the feast time, which day liked them best; and when they all allowed the pastime of the day present, and yet (quoth he) this pleasure must be obtained by the other dayes paine,Plu. de [...] Agesi. for except ye first ouercome the Medes, yee can neuer liue in fréedome and at pleasure, whereby they tooke great cou­rage to fight. When Agesilaus had pitcht his field not farre from Orchomeno, a City that was in league wyth him, and per­ceyuing that many of the army had their treasure and cheefe ri­ches in the Campe, he commanded the townesmen to receyue nothing into the Towne belonging to his army, to the intent his Souldiours might fight the more fiercely, knowing they should fight both for their liues & goods. Gelon king of Syra­cusa entring warre against the Persians, after he had taken ma­ny of them, brought forth the weakest and most vncomely per­sons naked, in the sight of all his army, to persuade them that their enemies were but wretches and men worthy to be despi­sed. Epaminondas being ready to giue battell to the Lacede­monians, seing the courage of his souldiours began somewhat to quaile,Valer. sol. 257. he vsed this meane to animate their mindes furiously to fight, pronouncing in an oration to them, how that the Lace­demonians had determined, if they gate the victory to slay all their men, to make their wiues and children bond-slaues for e­uer, and to beate downe the City of Thebes flat to the ground. With which wordes the Thebans were so mooued and agree­ued, that at the first brunt they ouercame the Lacedemonians. Thus we sée oftentimes, that subtile policy auaileth, where force and strength can hardly resist, therefore it is both conue­nient and necessarie, that the Stratagems of warre be exerci­sed [Page] and studied against néedefull times, but in my opinion the force of mony is great in causes of warre, and winneth by cor­ruption strong castells and inuincible townes, insomuch, that the wise Erasmus seeing the wonderfull force of money, so strong and auaileable sayth thus thereof, Porrò nihil est iam sanctum, quod non violari, nihil tam munitum, quodnon expug­nari pecunia possit. Nothing (sayth he) is so holie and sacred, but by money it may be violated, neither is any thing so strong, but by the corruption of mony it may be taken and subdued. Philip king of Macedon hauing by practise and experience found out the vnincounterable force thereof, at such time in his warres, as he minded to take a certaine Citie perforce, it was tolde him, that the passage thereto was very difficult and hard, and the towne by common iudgement inuincible.Dictum Philippi. An praesidi­um tam esset difficile accessu, rogauit vt asinus auro onustus acce­dere non posset. Wherevnto he demanded this, Whether or no is the way or straight so difficult in passing, that an asse being loden with golde cannot passe and enter in? making then a tri­fle of it, when he heard, that there were but such sufficient pas­sage, accounting all things possible enough to be won, where onely there were but place for money to passe. For (sayth he) Pecuniae obediunt omnia, All thinges are obedient to money. Yet notwithstanding it is to be wished, that whosoeuer wil vi­olate or breake sacred rites, or betray things committed to his charge on trust, by corruption of mony or for auarice sake, that we had (as the olde saying is) his skinne full of angells.

The miserable murders and deadly debates, that happened betweene the suc­cessors of Alexander, with the vtter desolation of their state.

ALexander surnamed the Great, lying very sicke on his death bed, at Babylon, was asked of his friends in the very extreame and last article of death, to whome he would leaue his realme and royall dignities, whereunto he answered, to the [Page 74] most worthie of the gouernment thereof, Vt Diodo­rus relert. which answere cau­sed great dissension to arise betwixt the successours, insomuch, that open hostility and warre was presently proclamed among them, euery one thinking himselfe as worthie as the rest, the one thorow his stately pride would not suffer himselfe to be sub­iect or inferiour to the other, so that the whole Captaines and péeres (being commonly called the successours of Alexander) fell to cruell warre the one against the other, vtterly spoyling and bereuing ech other both of life and goods, not ceasing vntill they had rooted out the whole stocke & line of Alexander their master, and also thorow gréedy auarice murdred and consumed themselues. But first it is necessarie, that we orderly procéed in the historie for the better vnderstanding of the Reader. A­lexander now being dead, the Princes presently vpon his de­cease fell to sedition, controuersie and disagreement amongest themselues: for the regiment of the footemen were whollie de­termined to aduaunce Aride to the kingdome, who although sonne to Philip, and brother vnto Alexander, yet notwith­standing hee was attained with the vncurable disease of the mind, by reason whereof, the rest of the Princes and Captains which garded Alexander his body, hauing wyth them the horsemen, condescended and agreed by one whole common consent, to reare warre against the footemen, rather than they woulde suffer their insolent boldenesse, for they woulde haue Perdicas aduaunced, whome Alexander at the houre of his death gaue his ring, which deputed him as Gouernour, but before they enterpriced the matter, they thought best is send certaine of the chiefest and most honourable personages in their company with an Embassade to the footemen, among whome one Meleager was appointed chiefe & principall Em­bassador, to dissuade them to desist and leaue off their attempt; but so soone as Meleager was come amongest them hee neuer made mention of the Embassade committed to him, but contra­rywise approuing and allowing their attempt and enterprise did all that in him lay to maintaine and support them against the horsemen and the other Princes, so that the footemen ha­uyng good liking of his counsaile and courage, ordeined him foorthwyth their Coronell, and thereuppon armed them­selues [Page] to giue battaile vnto the aduersarie; howbeit certayne of the wisest and most circumspect, deepely weying and con­sidering the case how it did stand, he concluded a finall peace, wherein in was agréed, that Aride brother to Alexander shoulde be established King, and Perdicas thiefe of the Macedonian Princes, and also gouernour to Aride the King, and vnto the rest of the Princes and chiefe of the army were diuided and gi­uen, the administrations and gouernements of the prouinces lately vnder the subiection of Alexander their Master, which administrations and presidentships, the Greekes called Satra­pies, and the Gouernours of the same Prouinces Satrapes, conditionally, that euerie of the saide Princes at all times shoulde be subiect and obedient vnto Aride the King, and al­so to Perdicas his Gouernor. Now when Perdicas, by reason of his Gouernorship had taken vpon him the rule ouer the rest, he forthwith assembled all the Princes and chiefe Captaines, and assigned to euery of them certaine Prouinces to gouerne, namely, first he bestowed the gouernement of Aegypt, on Pto­lome the son of Lage, on Laomedō Syria, on Philotes Cilicia, on Phiton Media, on Eumenes Paphlagonia and Cappado­cia, on Antigone Pamphilia and Licia, on Cassander Caria, on Meleager Lydia, and on Leonat the lesser Phrygia, which bordereth about Hellespont. In this sort was diuided the pro­uinces of Asia. In Europe was appointed to Lysimachus, the country of Thrace, to Antipater Macedonia: besides al these he constituted and ordayned Seleucus Captaine general of the horsemen called the soldiors, being the chiefe office and most ho­norable in the army, which charge Ephestion first had, whom Alexander entirely loued, and after him Perdicas. Craterus also whome Alexander dearely loued, was appointed chiefe Captaine ouer ten thousand in the army royall: and as tou­ching the transporting of Alexander his bodie vnto the Tem­ple of Iupiter Hammon, the setting vp of his toombe, the apparelling thereof, wyth the furniture and solemnization of the funeralls, the most charge was committed vnto Aride the king & brother to Alexander. Thus when Perdicas had placed these Princes, and diuers other in such Prouinces and places as himselfe thought good. He also assembled them together, ma­king [Page 75] them priuie of the marueylous enterprises & ordinances of their master Alexander deceased,Determi­natio Alex­andri [...]. which things are worthie remembrance: for he shewed vnto them what things Alexāder in his life had appointed to be done, & purposed to haue done if he had liued, and therefore now at his death required him & the rest of the Paeres to accomplish these his determinations with all speede and expedition, which ordinances were woonderfull, & of great charges. And because that Perdicas himselfe woulde not goe about to derogate the authoritie & honor of Alexāder, his dead master, he committed the matter to the deliberation of them all being present, crauing their consents to the frustrating of those escripts and appointments, which seemed so difficult, & almost vnpossible to be brought to passe. For first hee ordayned that a thousand tal gallies should be built, longer & bigger than any where in Phenicia, Syria, Cilicia, or Ciprus, to war against the Carthaginians, and certaine other regions bordering vpon the Lybian and Spanish seas, to the end he would haue been Lord o­uer all those seas hard to the pillers of Hercules. He also ordey­ned, that there should be erected fiue royal & honorable temples to the value of 500. talents euery of them: and further, that ther should be cut out large and wide harborowes in places fitte and for ye purpose, to ride at harborow the said nauy of gallies: that done, he commanded diuers great and mighty cities to be built, and those to be peopled as foloweth. First, that the inhabitāts of Asia should be brought into Europe, & the inhabitāts of Europe into Asia, to the end that they being conioyned in mariage and affinitie, they should alway continue in amitie together: and for the places where the tēples should be erected, he appointed that one should be at Delos in the honor of Iupiter Dodone, one in Macedon to Iupiter Nidie, one in Amphipolis to the Goddesse Diana of Scythia, the other two of the honor of the goddess Pal­las, the one in Syrene, the other in Illy, which Temple in Illy hee would should be so excellent & sumptuous, that ye like no where should be found. Besides al these, he appointed a tōbe to be built in fashiō of a Pyramide or brooch, in ye honor of his father Philip, far excelling them in Egypt, which are thought to be the most excellent things in the worlde that euer were séene or heard of. Now when all these ordinances of Alexander were red by Per­dicas, [Page] & heard by the Macedonian Princes, although they loued their master maruellously, yet when they saw his enterprices to be such, and of so great charge, they all agreed with one consent, that nothing should be done therin, departing euery man to his Prouince whereunto he was appoynted by the gouernor Per­dicas. Shortly after they were all departed, and seperated one from another,Perdicas thought good (hauing so fit oportunity) to reuenge himselfe on those that first hindered him from being king.Mors Me­leag. And for because that Meleager now prince of Lydia, whē he was sent ambassador to the footmē, did earnestly stād against his desire, & altogether preuented his intent, therefore Perdicas (in reuenge) first of all other most cruelly slew him, with 30. of the most principall souldiers that were against his proceedings. The other princes soon had intelligence of the things Perdicas had done, fearing he would shew the like crueltie on them, hea­ring also what their master Alexander had said on his deathbed which was, that his kingdomes & possessions should be possessed of the most worthy: wherfore euery of them enioying so large prouinces and territories,Discordia inter succes­sores Alex­andri. thought themselues as worthy perso­nages as either Aride the king, or Perdicas his gouernor, inso­much that the most part of them would be subiect to neither, but seniorized their Prouinces to their owne vses, chalenging the name and title of kings, deuiding themselues, taking part one against the other, euery one striuing who should bee worthiest. Which words of Alexander, together with their stately pride, was the originall cause that the whole number of Princes and captaines (successors to Alexander) perished, and were vtterly destroyed, for they earnestly coueted each others kingdome, rai­sing among themselues bloudy war, and cruell strife, snatching after the most worthy place, not forcing of cruell murthers, or lamētable slaughters, but with eger minds būted after ye goods & life of ech other, vntil they had vtterly rooted out & consumed themselues: for Perdicas (hauing slaine Meleager, and other of his fellow seruitors in Alexanders warres) toke vpō him to go into Egypt, Mors Perd. to dispossesse Ptolome, whom before he had placed in that Prouince. But there, because he behaued himselfe so proud­ly, dismissing his captains vpon small occasions at his pleasure, his souldiers set vpon him most fiercely, & slew him: the greatest [Page 76] part of his army being gone to Ptolome. Mors Phi­lippi & Eu­ridicae vxor eius. King Philip & Euri­dice his wife, wer most cruelly murthered by Olympias, Alex­anders mother. Craterus cōming against Eumenes in opē bat­tail, was by him slaine. Eumenes also was slain in fight by An­tigonus. Craterus ce ciditur ab Eumene. Antigonus likewise put to death Python, and gaue his prouince to another. Antigonus going to batel against Antioch. the sonne of Seleucus, was himselfe slain by default of his sonne Demetrius. Mors quo­que Eume. Mors Anti. It was credebly reported that the night before An­tigonus was slaine, his son Demetrius dreamed that Alexander (who before was dead) came & stood before him with his sword drawne saying; I wil take part with thy enemies against thy fa­ther and thee, & in the morning also when Antigonus aranged his phalange or square battell of footmen, comming foorth of his Tent to fight, he stumbled and sell downe flat to the groūd, and after he was lifted vp againe, holding vp his hands to hea­uen, he said, I know hard fortune and euill successe drawethny, but I pray the immortall Gods rather suffer me to be slaine in this battel, than shamefully before mine enemie to flie. Also old Antipater falling sick on a surfet which he had takē in these warres, deceased, and left the kingdome of Macedon to Polis­percon his frend, and not to Cassander his owne sonne, which also caused great controuersie to arise betwixt his sonne Cassander, and his friend Polispercon. But in the end Cassander expel­led Polispercon his fathers kingdome. Not long after he him­selfe came to vntimely death, leauing behind him two sonnes, the eldest hight Alexander, the other Antipater, which Antipa­ter after he had slaine his owne mother, sought meanes to driue his brother Alexander out of Macedon. For which cause Alex­ander sent for ayde to king Pirrhus in Cyprus, & to Demetrius Antigone his sonne in Peloponnesus, howbeit Demetrius being so occupied about the estate and affaires of Pelopōnesus, whē the Ambassadors of Alexander came, that hee coulde by no means help him. In the mean time Pirrhus with a great armie came thether, and in recompence of his ayde & charge, took possession of so large a peece of Macedon, laying it to his owne countrey of Epyre, that Alexander greatly dreaded him. And while he a­bode in this feare, he was aduertised that Demetrius was with his whole power comming to his ayde.

Wherupon he considering the authoritie & great renowne of [Page] Demetrius, and also the worthines of his déedes, for which cau­ses he was highly honoured through the whole world, did now more than before feare his estate if he entered his realm, wher­fore he foorthwith went to méet him: whom at their first méeting he right courteously and honorably entreated, greatly thanking him for his courtesie and trauell, in that he would leaue his own affaires of great importance, and with so mightie an army come to his ayde: further telling him, that he already had wel quieted and established his estate, so that he should not néede any further to trauell. Neuertheles he thought himselfe so much bounde, as if he had come at his first sending for, or that all things had béen by his meanes quieted. To these words Demetrius answered, that he was right glad of his quietnes, and that he had now no néed of his helpe, besides many other louing and gentle words: which gréeting ended, either of thē for that night returned into his tent. During which time there arose such matters betwixt thē, that the one greatly suspected the other; for as Demetrius was bid to supper with Alexander, he was willed to take heede to himselfe, for Alexander had practised by treason to slay him: notwithstanding he by no mean shewed any countenance of mi­strust, but meant to go to the banquet, to whose lodging Alex­ander was comming to bring him on his way. But Demetrius diuersly detracted the time, & went a soft & easie pace, to ye ende his souldiers might haue leisure to arme them: and cōmāded his garde, being a greater number than Alexanders, to enter with him, & also to waite neer his person, but when Alexanders soul­diers saw themselues the weaker part, they durst not attempt it at that time. And after supper, because Demetrius would haue some honest cause to depart, he fayned he was some what ill in his body, & therfore foorthwith took leaue of Alexander, & went thence. The next day Demetrius feined that he had receiued let­ters out of his countrey of great importance, so that he with his army must presently return into Peloponnese frō whēce he came, praying Alexander to haue him excused, offering him help whē he néeded, desiring to vse him as one in whō he might repose his trust. Now was Alexāder glad that of his own accord he would return, and because he would better let him vnderstande some signe of good wil & harty loue, he accōpanied him into Thessaly. [Page 77] but after they were arriued in the Citie of Larissa, they a fresh began to practise new treason one against another: and first A­lexander to put Demetrius quite out of suspition, either with­out armour or weapon, or anie guard to attend on his person, would oft visite him, hoping thereby to make him doo the like: but he was in his so thinking greatly deceiued; for as Alexan­der one night came to supper to Demetrius without guard ac­cording to his accustomed wont, and that they wer in the chiefe of their supper, Demetrius sodainly arose from the table, wher­at Alexander was sore abashed, insomuch that hee arose also & followed him to the hall doore:Interitus Alex. but so soone as Demetrius was without, he gaue signe and token to his souldiors, who inconti­nently fell vppon Alexander and slew him, and certaine of his men, which would haue defended him: among whom, a certain fellowe before he was killed, said; Demetrius hath preuented vs but a day onely. Now was Demetrius King of Macedon, and the Macedonians right glad of their change;Mors De­metri [...]. but not long after this Demetrius was taken prisoner by Seleuchus in battaile, & committed to prison, where he continued vntill he died. Then was the great fight betwixt Seleucus and Lysimachus, which was the verie last battaile that was fought betwixt the succes­sors of Alexander; in which conflict Lysimachus was slaine, & Seleucus victor.Mors Lysi­ma. vt lu­stinus scri­bit, But Seleucus inioyed his victorie not long; for he was shortly after slaine by Ptolome, whose sister Lysima­chus had married. Also Olympias mother to Alexander the Great,Mors quo­que Seleu­chi. when she had slaine King Philip and his wife Euridice; then to despite Cassander she put to death an 100. noble men of Macedon at one time; also she made Nicanor brother to Cas­sander to be slaine, and defaced the tombe and monument of I­ole his other Brother,Factum terribile. to reuenge the death of Alexander her sonne (as she said) because it was suspected that he had poysoned him in giuing him drinke. About the same time when Ptolome Lord of the Isle of Cypres, vnderstood that Nicocles King of Paphos, had secretly allied with Antigone, hee sent two of his chiefe friends, to wit, Argey and Calicrate into Cypres, charg­ing them to kill the said Nicocles, fearing that if he should leaue him vnpunished, the rest would not sticke to doo the like. When these messengers were arriued in Cypres, hauing with them the [Page] souldiors of Ptolome, they incompassed the house of Nicocles, signifying to him their charge from Ptolome, & therefore they exhorted him to kill himselfe; who from the beginning vsed ma­nie words in the excusing of the fact: but when hee did sée there was no account made of his tale, hee at the last slewe himselfe: and after that Axithia his wife vnderstood of his death, she first slew two yong maides her daughters,Lamenta­bile actum. whom she had by him, to the end they shuld not come into the hands of her husbands enemies: and after exhorted Nicocles brothers wiues willing­ly to die with her, which indéed they did. In this sort also was the pallaice royall of Paphos ful of murders and wilfull slaugh­ters, and after in manner of a tragedie burnt: for immediately after the brothers wiues of Nicocles were dead, they shut vp the dores of the houses and set them on fire, and foorthwith they that then liued in the pallaice killed themselues, and so finished that lamētable murder. In the same season, while these things were done in Cypres, great controuersie arose in the Countrey of Pontus, Discordia inter fratres after the death of Parisade sometime King of Bos­phorus, betwixt Satyre, Eumele, and Pritame, Parisade his sonnes, for the succession of the said Realme: insomuch, that the brothers made sharpe warre one against the other. So it fortu­ned, that Satyre and Pritame were both slaine in that warre: wherefore the other Brother Eumele to assure himselfe of the Realme, caused all the wiues, children, and friends of Pritame and Satyre his brethren, to be slaine: & not long after was him­selfe cruelly slaine by misfortune. Now to returne to Alexan­der the Great and his line; it was reported and partly beléeued that he himselfe consented with Olympias his mother to the death and murder of Philip his father: for which gréeuous of­fence he himselfe with his whole line and stocke was punished accordingly. For first it is to be considered, that olde Antipater who in Alexanders life was his Lieutenant, and after his death first had the Satrape of Macedon bestowed on him by Perdi­cas the Gouernour. Which Antipater and Olympias could ne­uer agrée, but still were at contention and strife, both in the life time of her sonne Alexander and also after his death, insomuch that when Alexander was comming from the conquest of the world, making his abode in Babylon for a time, and after min­ding [Page 78] to returne home into Macedon to visit his mother Olym­pias; Antipater being then Lieutenant of Macedon, conside­red with himselfe, that if in case Alexander shuld return home, that then his mother Olympias would make gréeuous com­plaints against him, which thing he so much feared, that he cau­sed poyson to be giuen to Alexander at Babylon whereof hee presently died. Thus when Alexander was dead, and olde An­tipater deceased, there grew a new grudge and quarrell betwixt Olympias and Cassander sonne to Antipater, Interitus O lympij ma­ter Alex. insomuch that he tooke Olympias prisoner, and in the end caused her to be slaine. Aslo hee slewe Alexander sonne of Alexander the Great, and Roxana his mother, & afterward he put to death Hercules the other sonne of Alexander with Arsinne his mother, yet not­withstanding Cassander espoused Thessalonica one of the Si­sters of Alexander the great, who after the death of Cassander was also slaine by her own sonne Antipater, Cleopatra also the other Sister of Alexander was also slaine by the commaun­dement of Antigonus. After this sort was the whole line of A­lexander for all his mightie conquests, gained with lamentable slaughters and wonderfull effusion of bloud,Extinctus vniuersales successores Alex. vtterly extingui­shed by Antipater and his Successours. Also what gained his Successors by the large Kingdomes and possessions hee left? For they were al by enuie depriued both of life and lands in mi­serable sort. Insomuch that their remained not one, that could iustly vaunt and brag of his happie successe: but had rather good cause to mourne & bewaile the cruel murders, manifold slaugh­ters, and wastfull ruines, both of themselues, their wiues, chil­dren and friends; hauing also right good cause to wish that A­lexander had neuer béen borne, or els that he had neuer conque­red so great a part of the world to leaue the possession therof to them; wherby they were all driuen to vntimely death, with the murder of infinite thousands of their people: so that the whole whole world did lament and grieue at their mserable perdition and destruction. Whereby it is manifest, whatsoeuer Alexan­der had gathered together in forreine warres with the slaugh­ter and destruction of diuers people, was lost againe by ciuill dissention, with the lamentable murder of his friends, children & allyes, neither in the ende was there anie thing els gained (by [Page] his vnsatiable minde) sauing onely dolor, lamentation, sorrow, and distressed wretchednesse, which is a most common conse­quent and incident hap vneuitable to ruinous warre.

The cause why stately Carthage lost her Empire, and what miserable slaughters of men, hapned to be betwixt the Romanes and the Carthaginians; which first chaunced through the enuious mindes of the Affricans themselues.

WHen the two stately Empires of Rome and Carthage had long contended in warre, and fought manie fierce Bat­tailes & perilous conflicts, to the great slaughter and perishing of manie thou­sands on both sides; they in the ende being tyred and ouer wearied with the miserable murders and calamities of cruell warre, were on both parts wil­ling to haue a league and peace concluded and agréed upon be­twéene them for certaine yeares, and places limitted for diuisi­on betwixt their Empires, whereby they might knowe each o­thers Countreyes apart. Which thing being done and confir­med on both parts, by solemne vowe to remaine unuiolated & vnbroken betwixt them during the same limited time. But not long after, whē both wealth & power began to encrease in their Countreyes, then the stately pride of the one, began likewise to maligne and disdaine at the flourishing estate of the other, and also that Hannibal sonne of Hamilcar was come to mans e­state; who had sworne before his father beeing but a boy, that he from thencefoorth would become a deadly foe to the Romans (as before hath partly been showen). Now forasmuch as the forefathers and diuers other friends of Hannibal had béen cru­elly dealt withall by the Romanes, in the first warre; wherefore his minde was the more whetted on, to take reuengement of such crueltie. Insomuch, that being come to mans estate, & also hauing authoritie and power committed to him by the Senate of Carthage, to be the chiefe Leader and Captaine against the Romanes, as his father Hamilcar had béen before him in the first [Page 79] warre, remembred now afresh the ancient iniuries, that the Ro­manes had offered to the Carthaginians and his predecessours, that in token of his mallice toward them he stroke his foote into the ground,Dictum Hannibalis, vt Pol. refert and therewithall tooke vp the fragments of dust and earth, scattering them about saying; Tum belli finis erit, cum al­terutra pars in habitum pulueris redacta fuerit. Then shall the warre betwixt the Romanes and the Carthaginians ende (saith he) when euerie part and parcell of this dust shall returne into one clod and lumpe againe. Departing from Affrica with 90000. footmen, and 12000. horsmen to inuade the Romanes their auncient aduersaries, not doubting but to inlarge theirs with the Romane Empire, & to raign as Kings ouer the earth: for that no Nation in the world did come néere them in stateli­nesse, but onely the Romanes, whome now they minded to sup­presse. Thus when Hannibal had obtained an Armie, and also firmely had assured to him the faithfull friendship of diuers of the Senators, at all times to fauour his procéedings, and also to supply his wants, he then with banner displayed first warred on their friendes, and after marched into Italy, to make sharpe warre on the Romanes themselues, where he fought manie cru­ell and bloudie battailes, slaying & murdring manie thousandes of their people, gaining daylie in their countrey, subduing their cities and townes, winning from them their anexed prouinces, marching at the last to the verie wals of Rome, viewing the sci­tuation therof, minding wher it was weakest to make a breach, and to bend his greatest forces against it, to the ende hee might with more ease take the Citie; which indéed he had done, if the immortal Gods had not preuented his purpose, as the Romans themselues doo witnesse: for when hee had slaine diuers of their Consulls, with a number of their auncient Senators, & in ma­nie battailes discomfited their valiauntest Captaines and Lea­ders, so that there were none almost left liuing, that durst incoūter the victorious Carthaginian; so terrible was the name of Hannibal unto the Romanes. Insomuch, that now when he ap­proached their walls, they were all stroken with such feare and terror, that their stréetes were filled with lamentations and pi­tifull howlings of the terrified and ouer frighted people shut­ting their windowes and doores in all the Citie, mourning and [Page] making such lamentable dole and pitifull wayling, as if then the executioner had bin present within the walls of their Citie. Notwithstanding Fuluius Flaccus then being Consul, hearing the dolefull cries of the distressed Citizens, being mooued with their present miserie, gathered a sufficient Armie of the trem­bling Romanes and marched out of the Citie in good order a­gainst his enemie Hannibal, aranging his battels readie to en­counter the fierce foe, which also came marching against them, to giue downe right battaile to Flaccus the Consull, but the trē ­bling Romanes being so terrefied with the name of Hannibal, were now at the sight of his displayed banners and presence of his mightie person, so wounded with an vnspeakable feare and terror, that their hearts quite failed them, standing all as if they were more readie to flie than fight: which the Consull right well perceiued to his great griefe and sorrow. But thus well it happened to the distressed Romanes, before the Armies could could ioyne battaile, there fell a wonderful storme, with such vi­olence and mightie force, that both the Armies were driuen in­to their holdes without battaile. The next day also, when they likewise came foorth to fight, they were in like manner sepera­ted and driuen backe with another mightie storme; so that Hā ­nibal was forced to retire from the Citie: which (as both the Romanes themselues and also the Carthaginians affirme) was by the prouidence of the immortall Gods, not to suffer Hanni­bal at that time to fight with the fearefull Romanes, but protra­cting the time that the Carthaginians might be plaged for their vnfaithfulnesse. For if (by common iudgement) they had at that time fought, Rome had bin sacked, their Empire lost, and their liues vnder the mercie of Hannibal. Therefore said Hanno a Carthaginian: As the immortall Gods prouided for the safe­tie of the Romanes, so in like sort, they prouided grieuously to plague our vnfaithfulnesse, for breaking of our sacred vow & plighted promise. For when all hope of the Romanes were ta­ken away, their chiefe forces and powers diminished, their pru­dent Consulls and Senators slaine, their valiant Captaines & soldiers consumed, their Countrey wasted and destroyed with the continuance of warre; insomuch that they despaired for euer to recouer their libertie, or holde the Carthaginians from con­quest [Page 80] of their Countrey. Nowe in this great extremitie, yong P.C. Scipio craued of the remnant of the Senators, which wer left aliue, that he might haue an Army to fight against Hanni­bal and the Carthaginians, not doubting, but that he wold both reuenge their iniuries, and also expell Hanniball out of Italy. The ancient Senators séeing the valiantnes of his minde, wil­lingly graunted his request, & most pitifully with weeping eies and lamentable voices, earnestly required him to stand manful­ly to the defence of their Emyire, Citie and libertie, beséeching him also to remember the mournfull cries and pitiful waylings of their wiues and children, with other miserable and distressed Citizens, which had alreadie tasted the crueltie of the Cartha­ginians by the losse of their déere friends. P. Scipio hauing re­ceiued his charge, being not willing to defer the time from doo­ing good to his Countrey, presently set vpon the Carthaginians with such circumspect pollicie and manly courage, that hee not onely draue them out of Italy and Spaine, but also ouerthrewe them in manie great battailes, and in the end went with his po­wer into Affrica, where he also got diuers victories of the Car­thaginians, who before had mightely plagued the Romanes. Now began fortune to showe her selfe in her right kinde, for whereas the Carthaginians dayly hearkened and looked after the conquest of Rome with the whole Empire of Italy, at this time they began to suspect to suspect their own estate & libertie. Insomuch that the Senators of Carthage séeing the Cartha­ginian Empire in such imminet perill and present danger, sent foorthwith for Hannibal, commanding him to leaue warring in forren regions and strange countreyes, and come home to de­fend his owne Empire, which stood in hazard to be loss: yet not­withstanding the comming of Hannibal into Affrica, did no­thing discourage the noble Scipio, but that he still gained on the Carthaginians to their great loffe and spnyle: so that nowe the Carthaginians began vtterly to dispaire of their owne safetie, minding in this great extremitie to venture and hazarde theyr whole Empire, Citie, libertie and liues in one Battaile: for that they wel knewe they could not long continue the warres, by reason that they had alreadie spent such a massie treasure in hope of getting of the Romane Empire, that at this time they [Page] had not sufficient to defend their owne Countrey, wherefore they were forced to compremit the matter to Ladie Fortune, whom although, for a time she had swéetely smiled on, notwith­standing at the last she shewed her selfe no equall or indifferent Iudge, but partially tooke part with the Romanes, to the quite ouerthrowing and subduing of the Carthaginians before the ci­tie of Carthage, in the great and mightie battaile which was at that time fought betwéene them for the Empire of the World. Thus Scipio defended both his owne Countrey and Empire, inlarging it with the Empire of the gréedie Enemie, and also caused the Senators of Carthage to sue both to him, and to the Senate of Rome, humbly on their knées crauing for their liues, and to haue mercie at the hands of the Romanes, whome before they would take no peace withall: falling now prostrate at the féete of Scipio, embracing and kissing the ground whereon hee stood,Submissio Paeni. Po­li. 14. crying continually; O thou victorious Scipio, vse thy vi­ctorie with mercie, and thy conquest with clemencie, spare our liues, suffer our Citie to stand, destroy not our countrey: and we will hencefoorth become true friends & aiders to you, O ye victorious Romanes. Scipio considering the lamentable & miserable estate of the distressed Romanes, when Hannibal and the Carthaginians lay before the walls of their Citie, and with what mournfull cries, pitiful waylings, lamentable howlings, and fearfull scrichings, the pore afflicted Romanes were oppres­sed withall: wherefore now knowing by experience what la­mentation and pitifull outcries was in the Citie of Carthage, for feare of him and the Romanes, who laye at the verie gates readie to spoyle, take and sacke the Towne; being mooued with a manly pitie, he not only refrained from the destruction of their Citie, but also graunted them peace vpon such conditions as he prescribed vnto them; which they willingly agréed vnto: re­quiring also in the Articles their Nauie of ships, which so oft had vexed the Romanes, causing them all to be set on fire in their sight, to the lamentable spectacle of the gréeued Citizens, bee­ing aboue, 500. saile. Also it is to be noted, that after the com­positions, Scipio demanded a certaine summe of money to bee gathered amongst them, and presently paid vnto him: which money was so gréeuous to the Carthaginians, because theyr [Page 81] stocke and common substance was before greatly wasted: wher­fore at the leuying of the said summe of their priuate substance, great lamentation and wéeping was made in all partes of the troubled Citie; which Hannibal beholding, could not forbeare to laugh. Whereat one Asdrubal Hedus tooke great indigna­tion, rebuking him, for that he (beeing the verie originall of all their sorrow) in the common mourning of the Citie shoulde so laugh. Whereunto Hannibal answered, If yee might beholde the inward thought of my minde, as yee may the outward ap­parant countenance of my face: you should perceine this laugh­ter not to come of anie ioy of the heart, but of a mad & fransie minde. Neuertheles, this my laughter is not so inordinate, nor commeth so out of time, as your teares doo: for first you shuld haue wept, when your armour was taken from you, and your ships burned before your eyes, and when your libertie of ma­king warre with anie stranger (but onely by the license of the Romanes) was taken from you, wherein rested your chiefest fall and vndoing. But ye feele no hurt vnles it touch your pri­uate wealth: and now when you must pay the tribute of their priuate goods, euerie man weepeth, as he would doo at the bu­riall of his friend. But they had further cause to wayle and la­ment, than for their money and treasure or anie other priuate goods, for they before had lost in this warre 400000. mē, which were slaine in battaile,Sic scribit Poli. besides a wonderfull number of others, which died by hurts and in skirmishes, & by the losses of Cities being no part of the aforesaid number which was slaine in set battaile. Also they lost 300. of their ancient Senators & other Estates, which had borne office in ye Citie of Carthage, to their great sorrow & gréefe, but this (as Hannibal told them) grie­ued them but little, in respect of the sorow which they conceiued by the touching of euerie mans priuate substance, which thing came néerer to the quick, than that which they ought farr more to haue lamented. Soone after these great victories wonne by Scipio, he returned to Rome with great spoyles, bringing also with him the Empire of Carthage with a mightie masse of tre­sure, able to haue reioyced anie Nation in the world. Notwith­standing for all their victorie, great spoyles, wonderfull rich prayes, and new Empire, hee found them in a manner, as sor­rowful [Page] at his comming home, as when he departed from Rome in their great extremitie, for neither the newes of his successe, the mightie masse of treasure which he brought with him, nor the stately empire of the world, which hee by his valure had ob­tained to the euerlasting fame and renowne of the Romans, was sufficient to kéepe their minds from mourning, their hearts from sorrowfull sobbing, not their eyes from bitter teares, such was their losses in that warre, their Consulls slaine, their Se­nators and chiefe rulers consumed, and a mightie nūber of their people vtterly perished. Hannibal had slaine in fight 5. of their kingly Consuls: to wit, Flaminius L. Aemilius Paulus, Post­humus, Marcellus, and old P. Scipio that was slaine in Spaine. There was also slaine Cneius Scipio, brother to this P. Scipio, with Titus Gracchus, Cneius Fuluius, Centenius Penula, with diuers other noble Romanes of great fame and authoritie. Hā ­nibal had also slain of the Romane souldiours 300000. in open fight and set field, besides the slaughters which were commit­ted in the winning of townes, odd méetings, skirmishes, & such other extraordinarie fights betwixt the Romanes and the Car­thaginians; which by common iudgement was néere compara­ble, to the former number. Thus was Italy stained with the bloud of her natiue Romanes, and the cruell slaughters of the Carthaginians, so that the Romans had no more cause to reioice in their mightie conquest, than the Carthaginians had at their lost Empire. In the last conflict betwéen Hannibal and Scipio, the Carthaginians lost the field before the walls of Carthage, with the slaughter of 50000. men; the Romanes hauing the vi­ctorie, lost in the same battaile 54000. worthy souldiers. Ther­fore great was the mourning in Carthage for their vtter sub­uersion, and as great, or rather greater was the lamentation in Rome, after their victorie, for their déere friends, chiefe states, & other mightie losses, so that the Empire of the whole world, could not withhold them from dolefull moane and pitifull wée­pings, hauing good cause on both parts to wish, that the warres had neuer begun, or that their proud mindes had digested the a­buses of each other rather than on both sides so to bewaile their remedilesse losses: Qui struit insidias alijs, sibi damna dat ipse.

By what meanes ancient Troy was destroyed, and why the whole Empire of Phrigia was lost, with the lamentable mur­ders, aswell of the Troians, as the Grecians being victors.

WHen Paris sonne to Priamus King of Troy was returned from Lacedemon with faire Helena wife to Menelaus whom he had stolne from thence when her husband was gone to dispose the goods of olde Atreus his father,Vt Dictys Cret [...]nsis affirmat. lately being dead in Crete, the angry Greeks not well contented therewith, nor di­gesting such a proud abuse and shame­full rape at the Troyans hands hauing no reformation of their wrongs, when as Palamedes, Vlisses, and Menelaus himselfe went to Troy to demaund Helena againe by the way of intrea­tie, before they would proclaime warre) assembled a mightie Armie, determining sharply to reuenge themselues on such a vile and vntollerable act; wherefore they with twelue hundred ships of warre (being strongly furnished with men and muniti­on) sayled towards Troy with the aid and persons of thrée score and ten Kings, and kingly Péeres, which also in the behalfe of the wronged Greekes had made a vowe against the Troians. Priamus in like manner (after his son Paris had brought home his long desired loue) fortefied his town, made strong his wals and was aided with the power and persons of three and thirtie Kings, beside manie valiant princes which were his own sons, maintaining warre against the fierce Greekes the space of tenn yeares, two months & twelue dayes, to the wonderfull slaugh­ter and mightie murder of them both. Notwithstanding, after manie cruell fights and bloudie battailes, Troy was taken, bee­ing sacked, spoyled, beaten downe and ruinously defaced with fire by the Greeks, who first wer mightely abused at the hands of the Phrigians. In reuengement whereof they slewe aged Priamus Father to Paris and King of Troy, with thousands of the Phrigian Nobilitie, vsing al extremities, and finally subuer­ting that royall Citie.

[Page]Thus when the angrie Gréekes had vtterly wasted & destroy­ed Phrygia, burned Troy, slaine the valiaunt sonnes of King Priamus, slaughtered in battaile of the Troians 656000. beside those that were slaine at the subuersion of the Citie, which were a most wonderfull and inestimable number,Sic Dares Phrigius recordat. l. 1 to the great lamen­tation of the whole world, and fully had reuenged the vile villa­nie that Paris had offered, after the most cruell maner; then they whom fortune had left aliue, returned into Grece with the em­pire of Asia, and all the kingdomes which lately were vnder the subiection of Priamus. Yet for all this, ye Grecians had no great cause to triumph and reioice in their victorious conquest, but ra­ther to lament their mightie losses, cruell slaughters and mani­fold spoyles, which they sustained by the Troyan Warre: for during the ten yeares siege, they had slain of their people by the Troyans 860000. men, besides all their chiefe Péeres, which were slaine during the time of the siege, or else after by occasion of the Troian warre. The most valiant Hector sonne to Pria­mus King of Troy, couragiously chased the Greekes in manie battails by the space of 6. yeres: but then, after Achilles by mis­fortune had slaine the noble Hector, euery thing fel out vnhap­pely to the Troyans, notwithstanding during his life, his name was terrible to the Greekes: for he had slaine 28. of their chiefe Kings and Princes with his owne hand; namely, Protesilaus the great King of Philaca with manie thousand more whē first the Greekes landed on the Phrigian shore: he also slewe Patro­clus King of Pythia, Hi Graij ca dunt ab Hectore. who had put himselfe in the armour of A­chilles, Lufor, Boetes, Archilogus, Meron King of Crete, with Epistrophus, Leped [...]mon, Deipeynor, & proud Prothenor king of Boetia, Dorius, Polixenus, Zantippus, Serpedon, with Phi­dippus the mightie King of Chalcedō, Polibetes, Alpinor, Phi­letes, Letabonis, Isideus, and Leonteus the valiant King of La­rissa, Menon, Humerus, Maymentus, Palemon, Phillis, Octa­ [...]en, with Schedius the dreadfull King of Phocis: all which beeing mightie Kings, were manfully slaine in battaile by the worthy Hector, beside manie other noble & worthy Greekes of lesse account. Agamemnon sonne of olde Atreus King of My­cene, the chiefe ringleader of the Greekes against the Troyans, was himselfe slaine by the occasion of the Troyan Warre. For [Page 83] returning home from the Phrigian Conquest with Cassandra the daughter of unfortunate Priamus, his owne wife Chtem­nestra conspiring with Aegisteus, Interitus Agamemno­nis occasi­one bell. Troianorū. with whom shee had liued in adultrie in the absence of Agamemnon her husband, so that she caused her Lord to assay a garment on his bodie which had no issue for his head, and whilest he was striuing therewith Aegi­steus thrust him thorough, and so stewe him: thus was that noble Prince by occasion of his long absence most cruelly mur­dred at his returne; which happened by the Troyan warre. Al­so Achilles, after hee had bathed his sworde in the bloud of the Troyans, cruelly chasing the Phrigians in sundrie fights, and al­so had slaine Hector and Troylus, Mors A­chylli. the valiant sonnes of Priam, at the length was himselfe slaine by the subtle inuention of He­cuba, mother to these noble youths whom hee had slaine, with the fained loue of Polixena her daughter: for, causing doating Achilles to come to Pallas Temple (after a subtle and treache­rous sort) where hee was traiterously slaine by Paris, her sonne also.Pirrhus oc­ciditur per eadem cau­sam, testis Dyctis. li. 6. In like case Neoptolemus otherwise called Pirrhus for his fierce and stearne visage, the sonne of the most worthie Achil­les; after he had slaine aged Priamus King of the Troyans, and murdred his sonne Polites at the Altar, in the presence of He­cuba his tender mother, and sacrificed his Daughter Polixena on the toomb of Achilles, sharply reuenging his Fathers death, wrought by Hecuba & her daughter. Thus, when hee had both reuenged Menelaus wrongs, and the traitrous murder of his Father Achilles; was himselfe slaine by Orestes, for certayne occasions about Hermione, which happened in his absence. A­iax, a most renowmed Greeke being companion to Achilles, & alwaies accounted of the Grecians the next in force & strength to noble Achilles: therefore Aiax claimed the armor of his slain companion, for that his strength farre surpassed al the Greeks, and also in consideration of his good seruice done at that ùege: notwithstanding Vlisses earnestly contended for the armour of slaine Achilles, encountring Aiax with eloquence, pleading al­so before the Greekes, that he had conuayed the slaine bodie of Achilles to Thetis his mother on his backe; which otherwise might haue lost the honour of his funeral. Thus in the end, V­lysses by his eloquent tongue, obtained the armour: for which [Page] cause Aiax fel mad chasing after wilde beasts threatning them (by reason of his frantick moode) to be the person of Vlisses; and in this sort he died. Vlisses also, sonne to Laertes, after hee had done many notable exploits at the same siege, for that (as the report goeth) when he had conuated the sacred relique Palladi­um and fatall destinie of the towne away, was himself driuen to sea by the displeasure of Pallas from whose temple he had con­uaied the relique, where he wandred the space of ten years, lo­sing in his perillous iourney the armor of Achilles, for which he had so mightely contended, leauing in that voyage his compa­nion Achemenides, in the dangerous den of the Ciclops, where he lost other of his fellowes and mates by Poliphemus the cru­ell giant, & at the last hauing lost al, both that which he brought from Greece, and also that which he had gotten at the subuerti­on of Troy, he chanced home againe; where he remained for a time vnknown, suffering many spitefull displeasures by the su­ters of Penelope his chast wife: whom after he had vanquished by the helpe of Telemacus his sonne,Mors Vlis­si. vt scribit Dares in reditu Gre­corum. was finally in the same quarrell slaine himself, by his bastard sonne Telogonus. In like manner, Palamedes was slaine at the siege of Troy, by his countrimen, which happened through the craft of Vlisses: for when first the Gretians began to prouide for the Troyan war, Vlisses being newly maried to fayre Penelope, would willing­ly haue staid at home in Greece with his daintie loue, insomuch that he fayned himselfe mad, cupling dayes togeather fondly & plowing frantickly in yt field: but Palamedes loath to lose so fit a companion, smelling also out the matter, laide Telemacus the young Sonne of Vlisses in the furrow where his father came with the plough to proue his madnes, Vlisses was not so mad but perceiued his sonne, & lifted his plough from the furrow to misse his child, then cried Palamedes with a loud voyce, saying, Thy craft Vlisses is perceiued, therefore lay aside thy plough and take in hand thy weapons: so by the meanes of Palamedes the suttle craft of Vlisses was found out: notwithstanding Pa­lamedes scaped not unreuēged, for as Dictis Cretensis, (whose person was there present,Mors Pala­me. Dictis Cretensis. and also whose works at this day re­maine extant) reporteth on this sort, Igitur simulato quod the­saurum repertum, in puteo cum eo partiri vellent, remotis procul [Page 84] omnibus persuadent, vt ipse potius descenderet. Eum (que) nihil insidi­ose metuentem, adminiculo funis vsum deponunt: ac properè arrep­tis saxis quae circum erāt, desuper orbuunt. Vlisses, with the help of Diomedes fayned that they had found secretly hidden in a well, a certaine masse of money, which they would willingly part with Palamedes if it shuld so please him, perswading him to goe downe into the well, which thing he vnaduisedly did by the help of a cord, suspecting no euil at al: but Vlisses and Dio­medes, flinging downe stones violently which lay there about ready for the purpose, stoned Palamedes to death, who mistru­sted no such matter. In this sort (saieth Dictis) Vlisses reuen­ged himself on Palamedes, but other authors otherwise affirme, saying; that when Vlisses lay before Troy, to work reuengment on him who was the cause of his being there, he vsed this suttle policie, he counterfeited letters from Priamus directed to Pala­medes, wherin he made mention of certaine money which he be­fore had sent him, giuing him hartie thanks for diuerse treasons which he before had condescended vnto also, (which money V­lisses had caused to bee hid in his tent by corrupting of his ser­uants) now when these fayned letters were found, & Palamedes called in question about the matter, Vlisses earnestly tooke part with him, saying that he verily thought Palamedes had wrong, and that these letters were fayned by the enemie; which thing (saith he) may easilie be found; for if you can finde any such mo­ney either about him or els where secretly hid by his meanes, then no doubt, he is gilty of this treason; but if not, as I am fully perswaded, then ye must think that the man hath mightily béen iniured by some dispitfull foe, then was search made in his tent where the same money was found closely digged in the groūd which ye counterfeit letters made mentiō of, for which cause the whole hoast of the Gretians cried out for spéedie reuengement: wherefore he forthwith was cōdemned by the péers of Grece to be stoned to death,Sic Dares Phrigeus autumat. which iudgement presently was executed: so died Palamedes who alwaies had been true to his countrimen: Anticlus a noble peer of Greece, in like sort, at the same siege died in vntimely death, for being in the huge horse (which the Gretians had framed before Troy, to be the fatall destruction of the Troyans) with a number of other Gretian Lords secretlie [Page] hidden in his hollow paunch or woomb; the rest of the Armie of Greece flying to Tenedos, as if they would haue returned home to Greece againe, Anticlus now remaining behinde in the holow horse which stood before Troy, being accōpanied with these worthy Princes, Thoas, Vlysses, Menelaus & Neoptole­mus Achilles brother, with manie other noble states. The Tro­ians hearing that the Grecians had consecrated that horse to Pallas to appease her wrath, now in the absence of the Greciās thronged and wonderfully clustred about the horse: some of them wishing to burne it, saying, it was a false frame inuented of Vlysses to betray their Citie, namely Lacon, who cried out; Breake downe or burne this hollow horse, wherein the wilely Greekes doo lurke. Also faire Helena her selfe (who was the originall cause of that bloudie warre:) greatly suspected that a troupe of Greekes were secretly inclosed in that hollowe frame insomuch that she her selfe came priuely to the horse, beeing be­fore time acquainted with the right voyces of the Ladies of Greece, began most artificially to counterfaite their voyces in the Gretian tongue, meaning thereby, that if there were anie Lords of Greece therein inclosed, they wold speake to her whē she did rightly counterfet their Ladies. But the subtle Greeks were as mistrustfull as she was wyly, refusing to aunswere to her voyce; onely Anticlus would haue spoken, when (as he dée­med) he had heard the liuely voyce of Laodamia his wife, had not Vlysses letted him, by laying his hand on his mouth vntill Helena departed, whereby Anriclus was strangled, and foorth­with died. What cause then had the victorious Grecians to re­ioyce at the ruine and destruction of Troy, when as their chiefe Péeres were slaine at the same siege: some of them violently being chased at sea, so that they returned not home to Greece in the space of 20. yeres: some of them also being slain at their re­turne to Greece by treason, which was knowen to happen tho­rough the occasion of the Troian warre. So that there remain­ed aliue of 70. Kings not fully 15. but either they were slain be­fore Troy, at their returne by treason, or else through dissenti­on for diuiding the Troian spoyles. Insomuch that all Greece had as great cause to bewaile the losse of their noble péeres slain by the Troian warre; as the vanquished Troians had to mourn [Page 85] at the destruction and subuertion of their aged prince, worthie Peeres, and stately empire: wherefore neither the Gretians, Romans, Macedonians, nor any other countriemen whatso­euer, (who by their notable victories haue brought manie Countries vnder subiection) that euer had iust cause to ioye ouer their conquest, or triumph ouer their great and mightie victories, but rather had in the ende good cause to mourne, lament, sorrowe, and hartely repent their achiued victories, for that many calamities, miseries, lamentable losses and pitifull slaughters, is as well incident to the victor, as vneuitable to the vanquished; therefore what gaineth the victor but losse, and al­though it procureth priuat ioy to some: yet notwithstanding it purchaseth publique sorrow to many. Thus dooth despitefull warre, both wast, destroy, ruinate, confound and vtterly sub­uert the Kingdomes, countries, stately prouinces and worthie Cities of the conquered: and also cruelly spoyle, displeasantly voxe, and miserably torment the conqueror: so that where the vanquished haue cause to bewaile their subuerted state, there (most commonly) the victor lamenteth his losse, and hath good cause to complaine on fortunes crueltie.

That it is both a disgrace, and also a foule discredit, to Englishmen to cha­leng their genealogie of the Troyans or to deriue their pedigree frō such an vnfaithfull stock, who were the chiefe causers of their own perdition.

IT hath béen, & is at this day amongst Christians a meere folly and wonder­full madnes, to deriue and fetch their genealogie and pedegree, from the an­cient Troyans, because (for sooth) that they would be knowne to descend and spring from the Gods, as the old foolish saying is, that the Troyans did: for it is said that old Anchises begot Aeneas on the goddes Venus, and after the fatall subuertion of Troy, Aeneas much increased that stock and kindred, as hereafter shall more manifestly apeare. The proud Troyans & the stately Gre­tians, falling into controuercie about their ancient generositie, séeking out which of them descended from the most ancientest stock and line, the Troyans affirming that Hector was far more worthy then Achilles, the Gretians also stoutly mainetaine that Achilles was superior to Hector; which thing the Troyans, not well digesting, vnfould their fond pedegree as followeth, Etsi enim Peleifilius Achilles fuit, Aeaci verò Peleus, & Aeacus Io­uis, sic quó (que) Hector Priami, Priamus autem Laomedontis, & Dardani Laomedon silius, Dardanus, quó (que) Ioue prognatus est. Alijgenus Hectoris paulò aliter deriuant, Iupiter inqui­unt, ex Electra genuit Dardanum? Dardanus Assaracum & I­lium, Ilius Laomedontē, Vide Ter­tellum. Laomedon Priamum, Priamus Hec­torem, vide Tortellium, after this sort they deriue themselues from the gods, but if it be possible that a wicked & a peruerse ge­neration should spring and descend from the gods themselues, then no doubt but that the Troyans came linially frō the gods, and if (as they say) Dardanus was begotten of a God how soone then did his son Laomedon digres from that sacred genelogie, for of him thus it was sayde;Vide Gel. lib 7. Laomedon insignis perfidia fiut, qui pactam pro constructis Troiae maenibus mercedū neganit Apolloni at (que) Neptuno, violauit (que) sacram iurisiurandi religionem quae sem­per [Page 86] abalijs inuiolatè santissimé (que) habita. Laomedon was the vn­faithfullest Prince that liued, for hauing borrowed a great summe of money of the priests of Apollo, & Neptune, to reare and build vp againe the decayed walls of Troy, which being done, & the priests craue their money againe, he mightily for­sweres the debt, protesting and vowing by the sacred gods, he ought them no such summe, & therefore he would pay no such debt. Wherfore by the iust plague of the Gods their predices­sors (as they thēselues affirme) their citie was part ouer flown with the raging seat: by reason where of there arose afterwards in the citie when the water was retired, a most miserable & dead­ly plague whereof many thousands of the Troyans died, which plague to appease they asked counsaile & aduice of the oracle at Delphos, how they should satisfie the angrie gods: answer was giuen thē that no other waies they could apease their wrath and displeasure, but onely by this means, by giuing monthly a vir­gin to a sea monster, with should appeare for the nonce at the shore or banck before Troy, which custome being obserued and dewly kept ye gréeuous plague seased: it hapned in time that the daughter of Laomedon the King (whose name was Hesione) was chosen by lot and chance to be the virgin that should satis­fie the gréedy monster:Vt dictum. thus when the time drew on that the sea monster was ready waighting at his wonted port crauing his accustomed pray, and thus pensiue Laomedon with diuers of the lamenting Troyans came forth with the virgin bound, pre­sently to bee giuen to the eager monster to be deuoured, in the meane time pitifully be wailing the destressed state of the guilt­lesse virgin. Hercules by great chance at that time comming from the voyage of Hespere, hapned to be against Troy when such a mightie throng of people stoode on the shore, wherefore he forthwith drew neere and demanded the cause, and why they did so lament: then trembling Laomedon told all that is before rehearsed confessing his owne periurie, for which all this mise­rie chanced. The noble minded Hercules greatly pittying their their distressed state, demanding of Laomedon what he would giue the man that should frée their citie from that monthly fee: whereunto he answered, that hee could neuer thorowly recom­pence that man, but in token of his good will he would giue him [Page] two of his white stéedes, which iuels of al earthly things he had most pleasure in: now Hercules for that he alwaies striued to do good, coueting rather to deliuer the distressed people, than after that guift of Laomedon although he made countenance of ac­ceptance, insomuch that he gaue battaile to that mōstrous beast where betwixt them was fought a cruell fight: but in conclusi­on the monster was slaine, & the Troyans fréed from that mo­nethly fée: then was Hercules much made of in Troy, vntill such time that vnfaithfull Laomedon forgeting the great pleasure and benefit that he had receiued at his hands; priuily repining and grudging at his being in the citie, chiefly for that the Citi­zens much honored & fauored the man, which was altogeather displeasant to him, insomuch that Laomedon awaighted when Hercules went to sport himselfe out of the Citie, and then pre­sently shut vp the gates of Troy against him: also denying to giue the horses which before he had promised. Thus whē Her­cules did see himselfe so deluded, by the twise periured King; being mightely moued, vowed that hee in time would take re­uengement on that disloyal wretch, and not long after he came with mighty force against the citie of Troy, and made warre on the King, slaying many thousands of his people, defasing the towne of Troy which Laomedon by his vile periurie had built and erected, taking prisoners Priamus and Hesione children of the vnfaithful king: but the wretch Laomedon their father was fled to kéepe himselfe from the hands of Hercules, whom before he had so mightily abused; thus for his periurie, disloyaltie, & ac­customed discourtesie, his stately Citie was ouerthrown, his children led captiue and himself forsed to flée. Yet againe Lao­medon was suffered to erect vp the walls of Troy, and reple­nish it with people the second time: not long after also Hercules came againe into the Troyan roade when hee was going with Iason to Colchos, Cornelio Nepote interprete. Fol. 149. to fetch the golden fléece, & there required ayd of Laomedon for his pay, but the discurteous King denied his lawful sute, for which spightfull part, Hercules whē he returned frō that voyag the second time came against Troy with a great power, whom the king minding to encounter, was slaine in the sight of the Citizens, and Troy againe taken. Yet the noble minded Hercules being moued with pitie, suffered Priamus, the [Page 87] sonne of Laomedon the slain king to be redéemed from his cap­tiuitie; who a new erected and built the walls of vnfortunate Troy. This periurie and vnfaithfull dealing of Laomedon, whether it be true or false, it is recorded by the Troyans them­selues, and especially reiterated & made extant by the Romanes; who of all other Nations doo most proudly brag and vaunt of the Troyans their predecessors and progenitors. This I am sure, no Nation of the world can denie, but that Hercules was alwayes a fréer to Countreyes from tyrannie, a reformer of wrongs, a helper of the afflicted, and neuer in his life did iniure or hurt anie prince, people, or Commonwealth, without iust cause of shamefull villanie. For it is well knowen, that at ye ve­rie hower of his Natiuitie, the sacred Oracle of Apollo was heard to pronounce these words;

Heraclem te alio Phoebus cognomine dicit,
Gratificando etenim,
Hercules was also called He­racles.
decus immortale tenebis.
Phoebus cals thee Hercules, thy name so tearmeth he;
By dooing good and gratious deeds, thy praise shall endles be.

Wherefore it is to bee considered, that Hercules either did wrongfully suppresse the Troyans, Dares Phri. sic resert. and subdue their Citie; or els that vnfaithfull Laomedon was iustly punished for his per­iurie and discurtesie. Priamus quoque filius Laomedontis serui­tutem perpetuam seruisset, si non precio fuisset redemptus: etenim puer ab Hercule captus, cum Hesione sorore, pecunia solus redimi potuit, vnde Priamus dictus, qui prius appellatus Podarces. Porrò si qua fortasse fuerunt ineo virtutis ornamenta, Paris tamen ab ijs deflexit, ad omnem libidinis turpitudinem. Also Priamus the son of Laomedon should haue liued in perpetuall seruitude, if hee had not been redeemed with money: for the boy being taken by Hercules, with his sister Hesione, could be redeemed no o­therwise saue only by ransome, wherfore he was euer after cal­led Priamus, whose name was first Podarces. Furthermore, if hee had anie ornaments of vertue, yet Paris his sonne did cleane digresse from any such good qualitie, Libido Pa­ridis. to all filthinesse of carnall pleasures. First it is to be remembred, that he violated most shamefully his vow made to Oenone, who before had sa­ued his life; which otherwise by the consent of his owne father had perished. After manie such vnfaithfull parts, by the prouo­cation [Page] of his owne lecherous motion, whereunto hee alwaies was verie apt and prone, and partly by the instigation of Pri­amus his father, to the intent he might crie quittance with the Greekes, who then held his sister Hesione captiue, he sayled in­to Greece, where he was right Princely intertained by Mene­laus King of Lacedemon, who right honorably banqueted and feasted both him and his companions. And for that the curte­ous King had not conuenient leasure in his own person to wel­come sir Paris, beeing at that time vrgently forced to goe into Crete, to take order and dispose the goods of olde Atreus his fa­ther lately dead; he commaunded Helena his beautiful Quéen so entertaine her guest in his absence, that he might both haue vse of his pallaice, country and subiects, with all other reuerēce to be done to him, at his owne will and commaundement: for which friendly entertainment and gentle courtesie, (hee not di­gressing from the Troians his vnfaithfull progenitors) to re­quit the gentle King stole away from thence his wife Helena, Vxor Me­nelai rapta. whom he entirely loued. But Menelaus, and the other angrie Greekes not digesting such a proud and shamefull rape, foorth­with prepared a mightie and huge Armie against the Troians, minding to be reuenged on their Citie and Countrey, for the a­buse of that vnfaithfull lechour: insomuch that in the ende, by reason of his filthy folly, both the aged king his father was cru­elly slaine, his Countrey ruinously wasted and spoyled, & the Citie of proud Troy most miserably burnt & defaced with the slaughter of manie thousands of his Countrimen. Thus after Troy was thrice ouerthrowen by the vnfaithfulnes of her own natiue people, and especially vtterly destroied in the last subuer­sion, with the losse of the whole Empire by the vnkinde Citi­zens.Dares Phri­gius. lib. 1. Et Dictis Crentensis. lib. 5. For Aeneas (as Dictys Cretensis saith, who in the same warre serued against Troy, vnder the conduct of Idomeneus King of Crete, whose workes at this day are extant) with the consent of old Anchises his father, and Antenor his confederate companion, yelded vp and betrayed Troy, with their aged king into the hands of their enemies the Greekes, and by this fayth­lesse meanes, obtained life both for themselues, their wiues chil­dren, aliances and families, at the handes of the Grecians, and suffered with bagge and baggage fréely to passe from the burn­ing [Page 88] towne and slaughtered heapes of their betrayed Countrey­men. But nowe more rightly to decipher vnfaithfull Aeneas, whom Virgil oftentimes in his prophane verses doth call Pius Aeneas:Virgilius. lib. 3. lib. 6. lib. 7. as doth appeare in the 3. book of the Aeneidos, saving, Parce pias scelerare manus non me tibs Troia, &c. And in the 6. book, Principuè pius Aeneas tum iussu Sibyllae. Also in the 7. book, At pius exequijs Aeneas ritè solutis, &c. First it is to be consi­dered, that Aeneas was the onely man that led doting Paris to that vnaduised enterprise accompanying him into Lacedemon. Then afterwards in the greatest extremitie of his Countrimen (for sauegard of his owne life) he betrayed the towne, and was the chiefest instrument to bring aged Priamus to an vntimely death, with all the whole Troian State. For perceiuing the Greekes meant sharply to reuenge thēselues on the whole race of Priamus, for the vile abuse of Paris his leawd sonne, Aeneas hauing married Crusa one of the daughters of the said Priamus, then knowing the intent of the fierse Greekes, presently with willing consent committed his louing wife to the murdering e­nimie, that no let or impediment might be of his owne escape. Notwithstanding Virgil alwaies fauoring wretched Aeneas because the Romans deriue the pedegrée from the fugitiue Troy­ans, after a more cunninger sort saith, that he lost Crusa his wife in the burning towne altogether against his will when he with his father and the rest of his familie made hast to scape from the persecuting foe.Virgilius. lib. 1. Also other of the Romans going about to hide the vnfaithfulnes of their predicessor, saie thus of him, that at such time as Troy was taken by the Gretians: sed ficta ro­manorum. Agamemnon their chiefe captaine greatly pittying the perplexities and mise­ries of the Captiues, made this generall Proclamation in the Gretian tongue, that it shoulde bee lawfull for euery Citizen which was frée, to conuay and carrie away with them some one thing or other, what they themselues would best like of, & most tenderly loued, Aeneas therefore contemning all other things of great valew and estimation, carried out with him the gods of hospitality: which when the Greekes beheld and considered the vertious & gratious inclination of the gentleman (as they say) gaue him leaue in like manner to take and chuse one thing what be most made of among all his goods, riches, and possesions. [Page] Aeneas vsing the benefit of this their mercifull graunt▪ tooke his father being olde and ancient vpon his shoulders, and bore the burden of his bodie out of the Citie: whereat the Grecians be­ing wonderfully astonished, left vnto him the substaunce of all his wealth vndiminished, adding these wordes importing a te­stimonie of their opinion conceiued towards him; Pietatem in homines & deos exercentibus, parentésque reuerenter colentibus, &c. Such as behaue themselues religiously toward the gods, and vse themselues reuerently to their parents, must of neces­sitie make blunt the sharpe edge of the irefull enemie. But this sauoureth nothing of the truth; for Dictys Cretensis ser­uing the Grecians against the Troians during all the warre, to the intent that he should note the yearly aduentures which for­tuned; it is to be thought, that being a Grecian, and in all pla­ces setting foorth the worthy praise of his Countreymen to the verie vttermost, would neuer so staine ye valor of the Greekes, as to say they could not take the Towne by force, but were for­ced to vse trecherous means to obtain their purpose. Notwith­standing it might haue béen suspected (although he had written that Troy was taken by the Greekes by manly force and stout courage in despite of the Troians) that then he had flattered the Greekes his Countreymen, whose pen (most commonly) af­ter the largest manner is giuen to set out their Countries glo­rie: wherefore it is certainly to bee beléeued, that Aeneas with his confederates was corrupted, and yéelded vp the towne to the enemie, or els Dictys Cretensis would neuer so much haue abased his Countrey men,Dictis & Dares, ita affirmunt. as to affirme this. Tunc placitum est omnibus fidem dari, foedere firmari, iureiurando stringi, eo pacto vt si oppidum proxima nocte tradidissent, Aencae, Antenori, Vca­ligoni, necnon liberis, coniugibus, propinquis, amicis, suis (que) omnibus fides seruaretur. Then Aeneas (as Dictys reporteth) being at a point with the Greekes concerning the yeelding vp of the Towne, firmely gaue faith on all parts by solemne vowe, be­ing bound on this condition that if the next night they yelded their Citie to the Grecians, that then both Aeneas, Antenor, and Vcaligon, together with their Wiues, Children, Fami­lies, Friends and Kindred, with all their goods and riches whatsoeuer, should be faithfully spared, and right carefully [Page 89] kept from hurt by any of the said Grecians, which plighted pro­mise was on either part firmely obserued; for the next night Troy was treacherously yelded vp by Aeneas and his traiterous crew,Troia tra­dita Ae­nea. and the Grecians (according to promise) spared the be­trayers thereof. Notwithstanding the vnfaithfulnes of Aeneas was greatly noted by the Greekes, for when hee had betrayed both his aged Prince, stately Empire & strong towne, he could not be found faithful to the Grecians, but sought to flowt and mocke them, at whose handes he had obteyned life and liberty; insomuch, that when Agamemnon and Pyrrhus the sonne of Achylles made diligent enquirie, and earnest search after Poli­xena daughter to Hecuba, who so vilely had dealt with noble Achylles, nowe minding sharply to reuenge his fathers death on that disloyall wretch, and therefore earnestly striued to finde her out: Aeneas, who coulde neither be faithfull to his friendes nor enemies, sought out meanes to hide Polixena from the fu­ry of Pyrrhus Achylles sonne; but fierce Pyrrhus not ceasing vntill hee had founde her out, in reuengement of his fathers death he cruelly sacrificed her on his toomb. For which vnfaith­full part of Aeneas (as Dictis Cretensis reporteth) Tunc Aga­memnon iratus Aenea, Dares lib. 1 quòd Polixenam absconderat, cum omni­bus suis à patria protinus discedere iubet: that then Agamemnon king of the Greekes, being greatly angry wyth Aeneas, for that he had hidden out of the way faire Polixena, by whose vnfaith­full meanes his good companion noble Achylles was vntime­ly slaine,Inconstan­tia Aeneae. for which cause he presently commaunded him to de­part out of the Countrey, and for that hee before had promised him both landes, goods and all other things whatsoeuer were knowne to be his owne, hee foorthwith compelled him to take whatsoeuer him best liked, & also to bestow his lands at his own pleasure, for there he should no longer stay. Thus after Aene­as had betrayed his Countrey, he himselfe with the other rable rout of his treacherous companions were forced to wander at sea, attending what destiny would bestow on them, spoyling & robbing in diuers coasts and countries where he landed; in the end, chancing on the country of Affrica, he tooke land at new built Carthage, Vt Roma­ni ipsi con­firmant. where Dido (otherwise called Elisa) was Quéene & gouernesse, there being by her right friendly recei­ued, [Page] willing both him and his companie to vse her Countrey as their owne possessions, repairing his shaken shippes, giuing freely al necessaries to the whole number of his wandring com­panions, commaunding that nothing should be wanting, that might pleasure the distressed Troians, her selfe oftentimes v­sing to welcome her wearied guest, whereby she fel in loue with the comely parsonage of beautifull Aeneas, euen so farre as plighted vowe on both partes could assure them, Aeneas faith­fully promising continuall stay and abode in her Countrey; but being a Troian he could not digresse from his vnfaithfull pro­genitors, for thorow his disloyal heart and wandring minde, he priuily by night stole away from Carthage, leauing the pensiue and sorrowfull Queene in the lurch, and to holde herselfe to her owne harmes, for which vnfriendly part, seeing herselfe so de­luded and mocked by the vnfaithfull Phrygian, presently slewe herselfe for very griefe, which she had conceiued, thorowe his vnstedfast promise. Notwithstanding the Romans still fauo­ring their predecessor do affirme, to hide that vnfaithfull part, that Aeneas was warned in his sleepe to depart from thence,Ficta à Ro­manis. and seeke out a land which the gods themselues had predestina­ted to him and his issue, meaning, by Italie, which he after won by force. Thus when he was departed from Carthage, and had spoyled and robbed diuers other coastes and Countries, at the last landed in Italie, where thorow corruption by gifts, cru­el threats, by menacing meanes, and also by faire promises and allurements, he made such discord and dissention in the Coun­trey of Italie, whereby great slaughters of people were horri­bly committed, insomuch, that in the ende he attained vnto the Diademe and Crowne of the whole Countrey, firmely esta­blishing himselfe in the kingdome, which he by force had taken from the quiet Princes thereof, there raigning king vntill hee died, whose death the Romans seeming to hide, for that (as they say) hee descended from the goddesse Venus, wherefore hee was taken vp into Heauen and there placed amongest the Starres for euer to raigne immortall.Vetus Pro­ [...]erbium. Malicorui, malum o­uum. Then after the death of this vnfaithfull fugitiue, his sonne Ascanius raigned also; af­ter whose decease Siluius Posthumus, his sonne succeeded, who (as both the Romans and Englishmen do affirme) begat [Page 90] Brutus, who slew Posthumus his father, for which cause being vanished Italie, when he had troubled diuers other quiet coun­tries, at the last tooke lande in the Ile, which then was called Albion, of one of the thirty daughters of Dioclesian, which landed heere by chaunce, and named it Britanie, staying the huge and mighty Giants, whom the deuills themselues had begotten on Dioclesians daughters as the English histories at this day reporteth; a foolish toy for the inhabitants of this no­ble Ile, to deriue themselues, and fetch their pedegrée from deuills, and then after from the gods. First to cōfute this foolish error; It is most certainely knowne, that there was no such king in Syria, who was called by the name of Dioclesian, for that no ancient Authour of the Syrians make mention of any such name, neither of his daughters, which as the English Chronicles at this day affirme, were put into a small vessell or boat by their father Dioclesian, and committed to Sea without either pilote or guide, chauncing to land in this Ile, naming it after one of their names, who was called Albion, as the fond saying goeth; and then forsooth, this Ile being inhabited with deuills, at their first arriuing, the sisters were carnallie knowne by the deuills themselues, and thereof did spring mightie and huge Giants which afterwardes were slaine by Brutus, who descended from the gods, as they also affirme. Which vaine opinion in like sort, is both ridiculous and foolish, for that neyther the Commentaries of Iulius Caesar, the works of Cornelius Tacitus, nor the Histories of Diodorus Siculus, who did write of this noble Ile, made anie mention at all of any such Brutus, being descended from the Troyans, nei­ther doo the Romans themselues, nor the Greekes write of a­ny one called Brutus, before Iulius Brutus, who did expell Tarquinius out of Rome, which was long since the time of Sil­uius Posthumus. It is also to be considered, that if Iulius Caesar, who made a conquest of this Ile a thousand and fiue hundred yeares since, had then knowne, that the people thereof had dis­cended from the Troyans, as both himselfe and all the other Romans did, no doubt, he would not haue made warre against this land, but rather haue sought to ayd and succour it. But the [Page] vanity of the English nation is such to deriue their genealogie from the Troians, for that (as I haue saide before) they sprang and descended from the gods, or els to fetch their original from Albion, who brought forth huge giants by the helpe of diuells, so that they must, there is no remedy, either descend from the gods, or else from the diuells themselues: this follie first sprang vp amongst the Romans, who chalenged their pedegrée from the Troians, which, as they say, descended from the gods; and in like sorte the Englishemen, to the intent they would spring from the gods as well as the Romans, faine that Brutus sonne to Posthumus one of the Troian stocke arriued in this Ile, and named it after his owne name Brytannia: which truely, in mine opinion, can not bee true, for that his name was Brutus, which, if you marke it, is altogether vnlike vnto Britannia: and to mend the matter also, they affirme, that first they sprang of deuills, a goodly commendation to this noble Ile. But for that the proude Romans thorow their vaunting vanity, did de­riue themselues from the gods, which they right well knewe were but earthly kinges, for that the heathen kinges in those dayes were called gods: notwithstanding, since the corruption of the time, both the Romans and the Englishmen thinke that they are linially descended from the gods themselues, for other­wise the Romans would not be so proude and stately, as at this day they are wellknowne to be, nor the Englishmen so vaine to challenge their pedegrée, or recount their genealogie from the most wicked Troians, vnlesse they were fully perswaded, that the Troians came from the immortal gods; which foolish opini­on first sprang from the Romans by ouermuch esteming their progenitors. Which fond and vaine errours to confute, diuers learned men are of this opinion, by studious seeking out of the workes of ancient historiographers, that the Greekes when first their Cities became populous, waxing rich and puissant, after they knewe the cunning Art of Sailing, first of al other people found out this Ile naming it Olbion, which in Greeke is hap­pie, for the abundance of all thinges necessarie that they founde there, therefore no doubt but that in so long a time as hath bene since Olbion, by the corruption of the continuaunce might well he called Albion: or else they at that time finding this land by [Page 91] the white rockes and cleeues, with which the Ile was inuiro­ned withall, named it Albion▪ ab albis rupibus, and also Britania of Britaniae, which are the Iles that lie in the Ocean, and not Britania of Brutus, the supposed Troyan. And so this noble Ile may be knowen to spring and descend from the vali­ant Greekes, who suppressed the periured Troyans, and beate downe their prowd towne, which they by vnfaithfulnes had buylded; and not to come from that wicked race, who alwayes were the chiefe cause of their owne destruction, and procurers of their fatall destinie by their periurie, vnfaithfull dealing, churlish conditions, and vnsatiable lecherie, as the whole world at this day doth witnes against them, to the euerlasting reproach of their line and Successors.

Expressed by way of apparition, touching the manifolde mise­ries, wonderfull calamities, and lamentable chances that happened to her vnfortunate selfe, sometime Queene of stately Troy.

WHen that Auroraes dewes were past, and Phoebus did decline,
And purple Titan ready prest with fainting light to shine.
When Cynthia did prease in place to run her compasse round,
And feeblely did shew her face with duskish light on ground.
Then walked I to silent groue my fancie to delight,
Where willingly I meant to bide to passe the pensiue night.
Sweete silence there her sound did yeeld, no noyse did me molest:
All chirping notes were whisht at once, each breathing soule did rest.
Amidst the hollow groue I past to ease my musing minde,
But no redresse of dolefull dumpes I any where could finde:
Vntill at last I viewde the skies where lucent lights abound:
And downe againe mine eyes direct vpon the human ground.
Then did I shake from sobbing soule the griping griefe and paine,
That long before had me opprest, but now reuiude againe.
Within the groue a pleasant streame with bubling note did flowe,
Which I by chaunce had soone found out from hollow bankes below.
There musing by the running tide and soundings of the deepe:
The sliding flouds that smoothly passe had husht me soone asleepe.
And as I slept on greenish shore, by help of warbling streames
Strange fearefull fancies frighted me, by dreadfull drowsie dreames.
In slumber sound me thought I spied a wight both fierce and fell:
A thing despisde, in viler sort no creature was in hell.
A woman vext with eager lookes in frantike fierie moode.
With clapping hands and rowling eyes vncertainly she stoode.
She ran about with flaring haire, much like to horses stout,
When sodain fright had pierst their minds, with strouting tayles did strout.
Euen so or worse she roude about with head and shoulders bare:
And oftentimes from senselesse pate her pendant lockes she tare
With bloudie nayles and hands imbrued, her palmes she oft did smite:
And reaching for the heauens, as though she to the Gods had spite.
With irefull cries and fearefull notes the hollow groue did sound:
In yelling sort from gulled bankes the ditties did rebound.
Like mightie bulles that fiercely meetes, and filles with noise the skies.
[Page]And for a token of their wrath the dustie grauell flies,
By tearing vp of earth, so she in such like frantike fits
Doeth snatch vp grasse in griping hands, as one beside her wits.
Still stalking on, vntill at last she found me where I were:
Thus fancie fed my dreadfull dreame with grieuous gripes of feare.
But when that she approached neere, and stood me by, at length
Me thought my trembling ioynts did quake, to flie I had no strength.
With starting steps I sought to flie, to shun that fearfull sight:
But all in vaine I oft assayed to saue my selfe by flight.
My fainting feet did often faile by striuing still to start:
No forced pace would ought preuaile, or suffer to depart.
Thus stil me thought amid my dreame (as one that were in maze)
With quaking corps and haire vpright full still I stoode at gaze.
For feare my faltring tongue did stay, I durst her not behold,
Vntill at last with friendly cheare she said, my friend be bold.
I wish to thee no harme at all, wherfore be not dismayde:
But call to minde thy frighted sence, and be thou not afraide.
Ne maruell why though I disguisde, haue furiously been vext:
In raging sort so strange to thee for that I am perplext
In minde and soule, to thinke how far fell Fortune hath abusde
Both me and mine in spitefull sort, when hautie Gods refusde
To succour vs in greatest need, she turnde her face and fround,
Who long had smiled, but now gaue help to croude vs to the ground.
Wherfore good friend, quoth she, geue eare and marke what I shall tell.
Lift vp thy minde, be not dismayd, and note my speeches well:
For I must needes declare the cause to ease my pensiue brest
Of haplesse hap that Fate assignde, and then in hope to rest.
With that me thought I banisht feare, and quaking limmes reuiude.
I courage tooke againe afresh, of which I was depriude.
Then boldly thus I said at last, what madnes doeth possesse
Thy vexed soule? Be sure if that thy paine I may redresse,
To finde some ease of this thy griefe or els I were vnkind:
Therefore be short, to ease thy smart, and let me know thy mind.
It pities me to see the plight of thy distressed state,
And makes me shrinke at all to gesse on this thy heauy fate:
For that no fiend that comes from hell could any more lament
Their peruerse lot for wickednes and sinnes already spent,
Than thou hast here before my face with bounsing blowes and cries,
Whereat the caues reuerberate, and Echo roles in skies.
[Page]But now dispatch, shew me thy mind, if so to ease thy griefe
Thou thinke it best: I am content that way to geue reliefe.
Then she began to shew her minde, and tell her griefe forepast
With grieuous grones in wofull wise, these words she spake at last.
If euer any wofull wight had cause to rue her fate,
And pleade with teares her heauie hap for change of her estate:
My selfe haue iust cause to bewayle my state which I thought sure.
But woe is me vnhappy wretch, what ioy doeth aye endure?
On Fortune fell I doe complaine, the cause of my mishap,
That thus hath dealt with me alas, when first within her lap
She lulld full sweet, and vsde right well▪ and then ere that I wist
Did tumble downe from top of throne, thus Iudas like she kist.
She lifted me so high aboue my mates and fellowes all,
For that more grieuous when I fell she meant to make my fall.
But would from beggars broode at first my chance had beene so good
To spring, and that I had beene borne and bred of meanest blood,
Then would the world not so haue musde to see my sodaine chance
To fall so low, whom Fortune earst so highly did aduance.
Yet geue me leaue to ease my minde although I wish in vaine:
For now tis past by wishing I doe ease my pining paine.
The trueth is thus, I did descend from Cysseus that king
A mightie Prince of Thrace wel knowen, whose praise each where did ring.
And from his house I higher stept to highest place of state:
For Pryamus the king of Troy did take me for his mate.
Who was the stately Emperour of Asia, and there
Amongst the hautie Phrygians the diademe did weare.
Then Queene was I of flaunting Troy. The Troyans all reioyce
That Priamus their Lord and king had made of me his choice.
There many noble sonnes had I, the world doeth witnes beare:
No Nation vnder heauen that day with me durst once compare
In valure with so many sonnes by one brought foorth to sight:
Each people on the earth as yet will yeeld to them their right;
That for so many bretheren, as I brought foorth (poore Queene)
I say againe that neuer since by any hath beene seene.
And that I meane to prophesie, wherefore I dare be bold
To say the like will neuer be while heauen and earth dooth hold.
But for because I would not wish thou shouldst my name mistake:
Whom Greekes and Romanes long agoe in dolefull verse did make
The world to know, and now my selfe shall verefie the same:
[Page]Who called me olde Hecuba, so truely was my name,
A wretched wight too olde indeede, for that I liude so long,
To scape the fire that burned Troy, to suffer further wrong:
O would to God I then had died, when Pryamus my mate
By Pyrrhus sword receiude the wound, but now I wish too late,
Fell destinie denide me that and sparde me for the nonce,
To plague me with a thousand woes, ten thousand all at once.
But first to tell my fatall hap, and orderly proceede
To shew, howe that the angry gods against me had decreede
And vowed, I thinke, by one consent to worke me double woe,
Or else I neuer so had died to please my spitefull foe,
As after thou shalt knowe: but first I wish to ease my minde,
In shewing how that destinie and haplesse fate assignde
To me poore wretch such mischiefe vile, as none did euer taste
Before nor since, though long agoe my miseries were past:
For first within my body I, to my great paine, did beare
And nourish vp the fruit which was the cause of all my care,
With childe I was, but then vnknowne what fruit I foorth should bring
To ioy my selfe, or else to please olde Pryam Troyan king
My louing mate, who vsde me well, wherefore I wisht to please
His quiet minde, by my good will, that we might liue at ease:
But see how froward fortune frownd, a dreame did me molest,
And fearefull fright did trouble me when I was layd to rest,
Me thought I was deliuered of such a fearefull sight,
For all was fire which I brought forth, and flamde as fire bright,
With furie great the fire waxt, with flames the aire did streame:
Thus doubtfull dumpe, by fright did pierse my breast in dreadfull dreame.
When that I wakde I tolde the king, how Morpheus had delt
With me in sleepe, and further how what agonie I felt,
Who presently to oracle would haue no nay, but sent
To know what by this fierie flame and dreadfull dreame was ment,
The dreame resolude, the Oracle, for answere did returne,
That I a sonne should beare, and he should cause strong Troy to burne
With fire bright, and for his cause olde Pryamus his sire,
And I his mother should behold our towne to burne with fire,
And all our people slaine downe right in fighting for his sake
A mightie foe for his abuse should sharpe reuengement take.
Which to preuent the father sought, to slay his harmelesse boy,
For that he thought some mischiefe might by his meanes hap to Troy,
[Page]And for because the Oracle on him vnborne, did giue
Such sentence which did fright his sire, wherefore he might not liue,
That when his sonne was borne, foorthwith the father did betake
The childe vnto a trusty friend, that he away might make
The boy which well I loude, but yet such pity did remaine
Within my breast, that I reserude my sonne which should be slaine,
And closly spake vnto the man, that he my childe shoulde spare,
And tell the king, at his returne, that cruell beasts did teare
The tender limmes of his yong sonn: wherefore he now was free
From such suspect as erst before the Oracle did see.
The aged King was then content, and thought all things were well,
He feared not the prophesie which these things first did tell:
Thus did I breede and foster vp euen him that did destroy
Both parents, friends and countrey kinde, and sought our great annoy,
The lad did liue with heard in field, and shortly vp was growen,
So that he for King Pryams sonne by secret signes was knowen,
Then was the youth callde home againe, and Pryam was content
To take him for his sonne, and did his former acte repent.
But when sir Paris came to Court, for so we callde his name,
The doting boy began to loue and follow Venus game,
Enquiring oft when fame would bring newes of a peerelesse peece
And passing dame, which that ere long had tidings thus from Greece,
That there the flower of all the world six Menelaus helde,
The like to her on all the earth no Nation then could yelde:
For whom vnknowne my sonne did dote, in such exceeding sort,
That he to Greece by sea would passe, to see if that report
Had blazde a truth: but first before to Grecian soile he went,
He craude of me and Priamus, to yeelde him our consent:
Then shippes were built on seas to saile, king Pryam willd it so,
And mates for him were picked out, and hence to Greece they go,
At Lacedemon he at length, a place of Greece so calld
Ariude, and in their safest rodes, his wearie shippes in halld
By Menelaus his consent, who foorthwith did inuite
The Troyans all vnto his court, suspecting no such spite
As after did betide, for that sir Paris did conuay
Faire Helen thence, his louing wife, and so without delay
Did hoase vp saile, and speedie windes did send him soone to Troy,
Where many of his friends did wait to welcome his newe ioy.
But Helen thus conuaide from Greece, the angry Greekes waxe mad,
[Page]To see how Paris plaid his prankes, when Menelaus had
Receiued his guest in frankest sort, and did him friendly vse,
Whose courtesie to recompence, the letcher did abuse
His honest host by spitefull rape, in stealing of his wife,
Which hatefull cause did soone procure sharpe warre and deadly strife:
Yet first the Greekes, I must confesse, like honest minded men
Did send to Troy, to haue againe faire Helena which then
Was brought to Troy, and their demaund, to end the bloody iaerre,
Which likely were to followe fast, and turne to deadly warre.
But Priam he, with his fierce sonnes their lawfull sute denide,
For which the Greekes, to take reuenge to Pryams Kingdomes hied:
From Greece they saile to Phrygia land, which haughty Pryam held,
And there arriude in dreadfull sort well armed with speare and sheld:
The warre began great slaughter was, for mightie Mars did raigne:
Full fierce they fought for ten yeares space, yet neither party gaine,
Such losse there was on either side in lamentable sort,
That Phrygia soile did flowe with blood, the world can giue report.
When Phrygia thus was ouer-run by Grecians ouer stout,
Vnto the Troyan walls they marchde and compast it about,
Where Pryam held his stately court, not passing of their spight,
Nor fearing future hap at all, but still maintained fight,
Where from the top of stately walls we dayly might beholde
Right neere our sight the slaughters great of Troyan youth full bolde,
And Greekes likewise on euery side the Troyans fierce did daunt,
They lay on heapes wherefore as yet they iustly could not vaunt
Nor brag, for that their mighty peeres in bloodie broile were slaine,
Wherefore to end the warre begun to sue did not disdaine
To haue faire Helen backe againe, for whom this warre begunne,
And eke to boote they offer made yong Polidore my sonne,
Whom Polymnestor King of Thrace had to the Greeks betrayde,
When Pryam first had placed him there, in hope of better ayde:
For when we knew the Greekes did minde to make sharpe warre with Troy,
To Polymnestor King of Thrace, we sent our yongest boy,
A mighty masse, and treasure great with this our sonne we sent,
In hope to keepe him free from warre, and from the Greekes intent:
But then the Thracian King betrayde (O vile disloyall wretch)
The harmelesse lad vnto the Greekes, this was the traitours fetch,
To holde the coyne which then he had, and so to yeelde the childe
Vnto the Greekes for lucres sake, lo thus we were beguilde,
[Page]Which boy the Grecians brought to Troy, and made request againe,
That Helen Menelaus wife in Troy might not remaine
But be restorde, then Polidore from their hands should be free,
And we our sonne might haue againe, and warre should ended bee:
But if in case that we denied, and Helen did detaine,
Then Polidore for brothers fault should presently be slaine.
Olde Pryamus would not consent that Helen backe should goe,
But helde perforce the wanton wench in spite of proudest foe,
And willd them for to doo their worst, for Helen meant to bide,
Wherefore he would not yeeld her vp what euer might be tide.
It well was knowne vnto the Greekes, that Pryam bade her chuse
To stay in Troy, or goe to Greece, which she did flat refuse,
And forbecause she willing was with Paris to be still,
He would by no meanes send her backe against her owne good will.
Then sent he word to Grecian campe, if that they had decreed
His sonne should die, his other sonnes should make them rue the deede,
And that the fieldes of Troy should flowe with gorie blood full fast,
Vntill the Grecians did repent their enterprised hast.
But now alas began my woe, my sorrowe did increase,
For neuer day from this time foorth mine eies from teares did cease,
O Polidore my yongest boy, sweete Polidore my sonne
From Troyan walles I did behold how fast the Grecians run
To doe thee wrong, my harmelesse childe, and mightie stones did bring
Thicke thronging fast with furie great, at Polidore they sling,
Who sure was tyed at fastned stake, which I from Troyan wall
Might well beholde how bouncing blowes did make my childe to sprall,
Not ceasing till my sonne were slaine, nor then, but still did smight
The brused bones of my sweet boy within his mothers sight:
O hellish plague, O torture vile, me thinke I see it still,
How Grecians raging mad did strike, the harmelesse soule to kill,
With wringing hands I looked on, yet loath to see him die,
I turnd my backe, and strait againe I coulde not chuse but prie
For this my sonne, who bleeding lay so bobde with waightie stones,
The flesh with blowes was mangled so, eche man might see the bones,
Yet would mine eies haue passage still to this his carkasse dead,
Till that my liuing sonnes from top of Troyan wals had lead
Their mother downe, whose folding feete her body could not stay:
Which they perceiued, so that from thence me wretch they did conuay.
To Grecian campe a messenger we did commaund to trudge,
[Page]To craue the body of my sonne, which thing they did not grudge,
But sent the martyrde corps to Troy, as custome did require,
They said not nay but graunted straight when Priam did desire.
And also did a present send to breede me further woe:
The bloudy stones that kild my sonne on me they did bestowe.
VVhose bloud and braines in vgly sort about the stones was seen:
A homely present to be sent to me most wretched Queen.
Then shrinde we vp with weeping teares, our sonne so vilely slaine,
And put the stones in tombe with him, for euer to remaine.
His brothers mad with this mischaunce, for battell strong prouide:
And to reuenge their brother slaine to Grecian Campes they hide.
VVhere from the walles we had in view such cruell sturdy fight,
That mightie men to death were sent, thus battell raignd downright.
The Greekes by thousands fell to ground, their people goe to wracke:
And that ere long the Troyans stout by Greekes are beaten backe.
Thus Fortune playes in double sort, sometime with vs to stand,
And then to flie to thother part, and geue the vpper hand.
But while that Hector liued in Troy, king Priams eldest sonne,
The proudest Peere that came from Greece his mightie hand would shun,
And fly the field before him fast, they feared so his name:
So fierce he fought amongst their men, each Greeke dooth know the same.
At last my lot was so extreame to see him likewise die:
In turret top from lofty towne his death I did espie.
For when as he had slaine that day in mighty battell strong,
Of kingly Peeres the chiefe of all that oft had doone vs wrong.
And there amongst the rest he had a noble Grecian slaine,
VVhose armour all was beaten golde, which pray he went to gaine:
And drew him vp vpon his steede, and rode foorth of the throng,
And for his better ease his shield vpon his back he slong.
VVhile he did spoyle him of his weedes, carelesse of any wight,
His naked breast vnarmed then Achilles had in sight
How he was busie, and therefore from couert where he lay
By stealing steppes behinde his backe he tooke the ready way,
And suddenly with fatall speare ere that he could aduert,
He vnawares with furie great thrust Hector to the heart.
Thus died he thorowe auarice, whom thousands could not kill,
Vntill his wilfull foolishnesse himselfe did fondly spill.
My selfe, I say, that time did see from top of lofty towers,
The Troyan fieldes besprinckled with dew of bloudy showers,
[Page]That Hectors launce had letten out, but now his latest fate
I soone had spide, and did lament to see the wofull state
Of this king Priams eldest sonne, and eke my chiefest ioy:
For well I wist that while he liude no harme could hap to Troy.
But now Achilles ouercrowed him whom he fearde before:
Wherefore he stabde him thorowly that he might liue no more.
I saw, I saw how Hector lay as dead as any stone:
And yet the tyrant would not leaue but mighty blowes layd on.
For if my sonne had beene aliue and armed for to fight:
Achilles durst not come in place, nor once be seene in sight.
But when by chance my naked sonne Achilles launce had payde,
The eager Greeke to lay on lode was nothing then afraide.
When noble Hector thus was dead, yea dead, and dead againe,
Achilles then to spoyle my sonne began to take some paine.
I sawe how that he handled him, I could not looke beside:
And if I did, yet straight againe my sight that way would glide.
The tyrant vile, the bedlam beast his carkas would not spare,
Who was a man, a valiant man, his noble mind was rare.
Another of king Priams sonnes that day was caught in fight,
Whose hands chopt off the Greeks sent home to worke vs further spite.
And wilde him thus to say in Troy, and tell his aged sire
That Hector now by Grecian launce was payd his earned hire.
And that Achilles had no doubt but Paris so to slay,
VVho was the cause of all that warre, and bred that bloudy day.
Thus came my sonne with losse of hands before his mothers face,
To tell how Greekes had dealt with him, a lamentable case.
And how that Hector now was dead, whom Troyans soon should misse:
VVhich was no newes for that before mine eyes had seene all this.
And while my boy besmearde with bloud his heauie hap did waile,
A seruant came and shewde vs how Achilles vile did hale
Dead Hector round about the walles in all the Troyans sight:
VVhich was because his frends should see, as easily they might
His naked corps in mire drawne at horses taile fast tide:
And that the doer of the same before did vaunting ride.
Then came I to the wall to see slaine Hector so misusde:
From whence I cride for that I knew the Greekes had him abusd
VVho was king Priams eldest sonne wherfore against all law
In cruell sort to spite his friends, his carkasse dead to draw.
[Page]VVith that I strainde my voice and said, Achilles, let me haue
My sonne whom thou hast slayn, that I may send him to his graue.
But he for all my mournfull cries, full fierce without remorce:
Did hale my naked sonne about the Troyan walles perforce.
VVhich when his aged sire be held, from top of lofty wall
For griefe conceiude did yeald himselfe in desperat wise to fall
Down headlong from the turrets height, if friends had him not stayd:
And throngd about to succour him who then had need of ayd.
But when at last he did perceiue Achilles cruell hart,
VVith beckning hand he spake aloud, Be sure for this hard part,
If that I liue, thou shalt repent, and Gods the same will graunt
Thy wicked act: and that ere long, vile wretch, thou shalt not vaunt
Of this despitefull fact, wherfore I wish thee to restore
My slaughtered sonne, as I haue done thy slaughtered Greeks before.
Yet would not fierce Achilles cease from doing Hector wrong:
For round about the Troyan walls he halde our sonne along.
And thus did still for four days space euen in his parents sight
To work our wo, for well he wist he could not Hector spight
VVho then was dead, whose gaping iawes the durt and grauell fild.
VVhose whighish skin the muddy mire with filthy spots had hild.
His beard besmeard with stinking filth, to eyes and face did clung
Such lothsome stuff as filthy Greeks with durty fists had flung.
VVas this a sight for parents eye to vew their louing child
In such a case as he was then amongst his foes so wild?
O haples hap, O Fortune vile, what woman could abide
Such pangs of wo from sobbing soule as did to me beside?
VVe did not cease to sue for grace at proud Achilles feet
In yealding wise, to haue our sonne, although it were not meet
A mighty king should stoup so low vnto so meane as state,
For that vnto the Troyan king Achilles was no mate.
But yet for all king Priams sute, when he did what he might,
The tyrant would not yeald as yet our sonne should haue his right
Of funerall, nor that his bones should rest in silent graue:
VVhen we had made such humble sute his mangled corps to haue.
Vnburied thus he kept him still for twelue days space at least:
VVhose flesh was torne, and then did will the dogs should haue the rest.
VVhich when I heard, a hell of woes did plague me then aliue.
O death (quoth I) my loathed life from miseries depriue,
Let not me liue to call to mind this Fortunes froward spite,
[Page]Nor see the day wherin againe such heauie hap may light.
Yet still in hope to haue his corps, Polixena I sent
My daughter faire to Grecian campe and to Achilles tent.
Who there on knees with wringing hands before Achilles face
With brinish teares made humble suite, to find as then such grace,
As that he would as then restore the corps of this her brother slaine.
And for which cause to pleasure him she euer would remaine
His seruant base, or bondslaue vile, to satisfie his mind.
For which, if that it pleasd him well, she then would stay behind
To be a faithfull seruant true to him at all assayes:
And pray the Gods to prosper him, and send him happie dayes.
With that Achilles stepped foorth, and gaue to her his hand:
In courteous wise he greeted her, and wilde her vp to stand
Before his face, and waile no more, and then as she thought best
He was content it should be so, and graunted her request.
This did my daughter bring to passe such was her peereles hewe
That she a second Helen was within Achilles vewe.
When Priamus and Hectors wife before had tried in vaine,
And I myselfe with weeping teares the like could not obtaine.
Her beautie so did qualifie the tyrants wrathfull ire,
That Hectors corps was brought by her home to her aged sire.
Then did I mourne afresh, to see there laide before my face
The ougly shape of my sweet sonne in such a wofull case
That Hectors face I could not know although I knew his name.
For Hecuba his mother I before had geuen the same,
Whose corps once washt, full well I knew the fauour of my child.
But pale aspect did alter much, that neare I was begilde.
Twelue dayes at least my sonne had lain abroad in open ayre:
VVhat time till now to haue againe we euer did despaire.
The funerals and other rites in order allwell done:
VVe did prouide the mony, which redeemed this our sonne.
For first before my daughter had the thing she did desire,
Achilles he a certain summe of mony did require.
VVhich thing before he had refusde, though massie summes were sent:
But for her sake and such a summe he seemed well content.
The money now without delay we sent away in hast:
And willingly did pay the same for daughters promise past.
O wretch most vile, O tyrant bad, that thus with Hector delt:
VVhat stonied heart in brawned breast would this not make to melt?
[Page]The cause of this his furie great, and of such cruell hate
Was by Patroclus haplesse death, who was his louing mate,
Whom Hector slewe in open fight, with many a Greeke that day,
And spoylde him of his armor bright, that naked there he lay,
Which armor was the chiefest canse that brought him to his end,
The angry gods displeasde with vs such haplesse hap did send.
All things thus done, my other sonnes reuenge did vowe to take,
On vile Achylles for this deede, and for slaine Hectors sake,
That presently vpon the Greekes with mightie force they went,
And thousands on ech part that day to dreadfull death were sent.
Thus dayly they did still contend by force of cruell warre,
And Princes fell on eyther side, that thither came from farre:
The Greekes did waxe, the Troyans grew as desperat men in fielde,
To daunt eche others haughty minde, and make eche other yeelde:
At last againe as fortune woulde Achylles fierce did slay
My other sonne, sir Troylus, who was our chiefest stay.
A valiant youth the Greekes can tell, although he thus did die,
For that before the proudest Greekes he forced had to flie.
In turrets tall from toppe of towne, my hap was still so bad,
To see my louing sonne to die, a wofull sight most sad
For mothers eie still to beholde her louing children so
To end their dayes, and be abusde by such a spitefull so,
From loftie walls I then beheld sir Troylus my sonne,
To course the Greekes on euery side, and made them fast to run,
Vntill that fierce Achylles came, who sure I thinke was borne
To breede my woe, and that the gods against me wretch had sworne
To plague with hellish torments vile, the plagues of furthest hell
Should hap to me, and greater paines than any tongue can tell,
For that what time soeuer I on walls did see the fight
Some childe of mine was sure to die, within his mothers sight.
When nowe to turrets top I climde with many Ladies more,
Whereto I did not once ascend, since Hector dide before:
But then too soone such was my chaunce, I thinke the gods decreede,
That while I did behold the fight no better they should speede.
Achylles braue, on horse did mount, whom Troylus had spide
To brag amongst the Greekes, his mates, well mande on euery side:
But when my sonne had found his foe, and thought on Hectors foile,
Like mighty Mars he layd on lode, and made that day great spoile:
He thrust amongst the thicest throng Achylles out to finde,
[Page]That he might knowe his brothers death, as yet he had in mind.
With couched launce and courage good, my sonne did run amaine
In hope to haue by manly force his cruell foe there slaine,
He mist the marke, but yet he strake Achylles from his steede,
And if the Greekes had not giuen ayde, he then had done the deede:
And yet for all the Greekes could do, he gaue his foe a wound
Thorowe plated thigh, he thrust his launce a handful in the ground.
Achylles horsde by helpe of Greekes, and mounted vp anew,
And then with troupe of armed Knights my sonne he did pursue:
The wounded Greeke that folowed fast, sir Troylus had spide,
Who turnd his horse, and willd his mates his fury to abide,
With monstrous force, the Greekes did fight, the Troyans did not flie
On either side to lay it on, the people fiercely cry:
At last the Greekes had giuen the horse that then my sonne did beare
A mortall wound, that paind him so, the iade did fiercely fare,
In plunging sort, the horse did play with mighty gyrds, at last
From setled seate my haplesse sonne the winsing iade had cast:
In falling downe (ah heauy chance) his foote the stirrop helde,
The wounded horse so scard before, ran raging in the field,
And dragd my childe before my face vpon the bloody ground,
For blood did flow that day ful fresh from many a mortal wound.
Achylles hauing spide my sonne in such a woful case,
With piercing speare to him halfe dead, he hied him then apace,
Through backe and side his launce he sent, and cride, I now am quit
With this my wound receiude before, and therewithal did hit
The staggring horse that downe he fel, and there together lay
Both man and horse: thus fortune vile her froward pranks did play.
Sir Troylus by chance thus slaine, the Greekes from armour stript,
Whose bowels hung about his feete, for they his body ript,
And naked on a gibe they hang for Troyans there to see
Their champion stout whom earst before had made the Greekes to flee▪
Olde Pryamus and I beheld our louing sonne so kinde
In vgly sort to hang on high starke naked in the winde,
Whose corps did waue in swinging-sort which way each wind did blowe:
And as he hung, the angry Greekes at him great stones did throwe,
Their speares did passe through senselesse corps, before him slaine they vaunt,
So fierce the fooles his carkasse dead with bitter words did taunt:
Hang here (quoth they) thou wicked wretch, and rue thy brothers deede,
If he by Grecian fist be caught, no better shall he speede,
[Page]For causing of this bloody warre that many thousands rue
Their haplesse chance, but he himselfe we trust shall haue his due,
And that ere long, wherefore till then feele thou his earned smart:
We Greekes do hope that Paris proude shal rue his wilful part.
These words we heard, this sight we see, the Greekes like mad men rage,
They threaten stil for Paris deede, sharp war with vs to wage.
A sight ful strange, yet not so rare for fortune did present
More harder haps to me than this, to plague me she was bent.
A messenger we sent to craue the carkasse of our childe,
Whose bones were broke and skin from flesh, with blows the Greeks had hilde
Achylles straight, did send my sonne which something pleasde my minde,
I did not thinke such curtesie at his handes then to finde.
But with my sonne to comfort me, these louing words did send
My friend (quoth hee) tel Hecuba, that oft I do intend,
Such gifts on her for to bestow to breed her further ioy:
Til such time serue, wish her to take of me this mangled boy.
Thus Troylus was brought to Troy, a heauie sight God knows,
His body foule disfigured with many bloody blows:
They layde him downe before my face that mothers eies might see
Her sonne whom fierce Achylles vsde with such extremitie,
His martyrde corps I did intoombe, though part were left behinde
Which Grecian iades did tread to dirt, yet al that I could finde,
To graue was sent: the funerals and al things else wel done,
The Troyans al in woful wise do much lament my sonne,
That al the towne with houlings sound ech one did waile his fil:
Him dead, I know it was in vaine, but that did shew good will.
Now did the Greekes afresh begin the Troyans to suppresse,
And they as fierce did fight it out, in hope to haue redresse
Of former wrongs, but al in vaine, for Hector now was gone,
And Troylus my other sonne, wherefore there was not one
Aliue in Troy, that durst presume Achylles once to meete,
VVho thus had slaine my noble sonnes, and crouded vnder feete,
The brauest peere of Troy that durst incounter with his force,
VVith Grecian launce he threw to ground, thus had he no remorce,
But still did striue by martial force to beat the Troyans downe,
And egerly maintained fight in hope to sacke our towne,
My sonnes thus slaine the warre increast, and bloody sight did growe,
No Troyan durst within my sight incounter this my foe,
So that before our walls he marchde with glistring speare and shield
[Page]Like mightie Mars, he oft did dare the Troyans to the field,
Which made me woe to see him raigne that thus with me had delt,
Whose cruell hand (to our great losse) the haplesse Troyans felt:
A counsell then of matrons wise I presently did call,
How to reuenge my slaughtred sonnes, to counsell straight we fall,
That fierce Achylles might not vaunt of this his cruel deede:
Together then we layde our heades, in such a time of neede,
We thus conclude, that best it were, Achylles to insnare
With some fine peece of Venus Court, whose beauty shoulde be rare:
And forbecause the Greeke wel knowne, to loue a daintie peece,
Which I had spide, for that before he sayled home to Greece
When Agamemnon tooke away sweete Briseis his delight,
No longer then, he would abide, nor for the Greekes did fight:
Till Briseis was againe restorde, which thing I wel did note,
And was right glad that beautie faire could make my foe to dote.
And forbecause Polixena his sight did wel content,
When she to fetch her brothers corps, to Grecian campe was sent,
So that at first he fraunted ber, when we before had nay,
And whatsoeuer she did craue was done without delay.
Which wel I wist, wherefore foorthwith my daughter I bedect
With gorgeous geare in hope to bring my purpose to effect,
And presently to Grecian campes a messenger I send
Vnto Achylles tent to shew what then I did intend:
Which messenger I did commaund his arrand thus to tell
That Hecuba the Queene of Troy, Achylles greeted well:
And further, that he should declare, Achylles should inioy
My daughter faire Polixena the peerelesse flower of Troy,
No other wight I do desire, for that mine eies behelde
The noble valour of the man so tride in Troyan field.
The Greeke hath often made me glad to see his courage bolde,
For from the highest walls of Troy I gazing did beholde,
To view Achylles that braue Greeke, so lyon-like to vaunt
Before the towne, and with his force the proudest foe to daunt:
And that although my sonnes were slaine in warre by lucklesse chaunce,
Yet were I glad their hap were such, as that vpon his launce
To end their liues, that no reproch might happen to them dead,
And that Achylles right wel knew they died before they fled,
And for their death I nothing grieue, for that my sonnes were slaine
By such a noble Grecian peere, whose like doth not remaine
[Page]In all the world such worthy fame the peerelesse Greek hath woon:
Say thus, quoth she, I shall not rest till that he be my sonne.
My daughter for the courtesie that she with him did find
Cannot forget the benefit, but still doeth beare in mind
The friendly vsage of the Greeke, at whose hands she hath found
Such sweet reliefe, that euer since to this day she is bound
To yeald to him her chiefest friend, and willing to fulfill
His mind in all respects, and be obedient to his will.
And that because Achilles shall not think my words as vaine,
VVish him foorthwith to proue my mind, and find if I doe faine.
Appoint some place (wish him doe so) and there my daughter she
And I my selfe his louing friend will then attendant be.
Achilles knowes that oft I doe to Hectors tombe repare,
Apollos temple holds his bones, in which I haue a care
To doe him rights as custome is (and yet the church did stand
In greenish field without the towne, not far from Grecian band)
In which if that Achilles will Polixena shall stay,
And I my selfe will come with her to celebrate that day.
Thus to the Grecian camps I sent my messenger in hast:
VVho soone vnto Achilles tent in secrete manner past,
And told him all that I had said: who presently with ioy
Besturd his stumps, and was right glad my daughter was not coy.
For that when first he made his suite, and did my daughter craue,
The wench was coy, and thus replide: No Grecian she would haue.
But now reuiude from former woe, the man with ioy halfe mad
Did send me thanks, and ten times thanks, that thus had made him glad.
I will quoth he be there indeede, to offer with my frends
For Hector slaine, whose death I rue, yet vvill I make amends
VVith some oblation to his ghost, right in his mothers view:
That she may say, Achilles is become a frend full true
To vs and to the Troyans all, by souldiers faith I sweare,
It shall be so vvhile life doeth last, this mind I still vvill beare.
And then foorthwith preparde himselfe to offer to my sonne:
VVhom he before had slaine, but novv did vvish the deede vndone.
Meane vvhile vvhen that I knevv his mind, and hauing place so fit
I did inuent in secrete sort to cry the Grecian quit.
For slaying of my sonnes, and for a thousand Troyans slaine,
VVhich vvere my frends, for vvhose sake novv such frendship I did faine.
The presently I cald my sonne, vvhom Fortune yet had sparde:
[Page]And made him priuy of my mind, how that I had preparde
To worke my foe a spitefull part when least he did suspect:
And sure I was no liuing wight as yet could it detect.
And thus I said, my louing sonne, euen as thou art my child,
And hast a care to wish me well that am thy mother mild,
And as thou knowest I tendred thee when Priam sentence gaue
Thou shouldst be slaine, yet I as then sought meanes thy life to saue.
Wherfore good Paris haue a care to ease thy mothers griefe:
And that I pine in paine not long before I find reliefe.
Which soon may be by thy good help, wherfore lay to thy hand:
And shrinke not now in time of need, but to thy mother stand.
Thou knowest my sonne (quoth I) how that thy brethren both are gone
Whom well I loude, and now in Troy aliue there is not one
That dares so valiantly in field against our foe to fight.
But trembling we (thou knowest it well) doe feare Achilles might.
Euen now the time is come that we may banish feare away:
For that Achilles hath set down a certaine meeting day,
To meet thy sister and my selfe, with others of my traine:
What time the wretch doeth make account my daughter for to gaine.
Apollos temple is the place where Hectors bones doo rest:
VVhich stands in field vvithout our rovvne, a place mistrusted least.
In vvhich Achilles mindes to be, and vovves if that he liue
To keep the time, expecting then my daughter I should giue:
So likevvise I haue promised, vvherfore my sonne geue ayd:
Let not the terror of the Greek make Paris heart afrayd.
But hie thee to the place, and there in secrete sort goe hide
Thy selfe before Achilles come so that thou be not spide.
With vveapon good prouide thy selfe against so fierce a foe,
And vvhen thou spiest conuenient time then strike the fatall blovv,
That shall procure the Troyans ease, and pleasure to thy frends,
And pay the debt that Hector ovves to make the Greek amends.
My sonne as vvilling as my selfe to vvork Achilles spight:
Did soon consent to my request, and thether stole by night,
And closely by his brothers tombe himselfe he did conuay:
And there vntill Achilles came in secrete sort he lay.
Polixena my daughter faire in gorgious vvise I clad:
For that I knew her pleasant hue would make Achilles glad.
According to appointed time we passe the Troyan gates
With certaine of the Troyan dames, we had no other mates.
[Page]And to the temple straight we hide, where we Achilles met,
According to the place and time which he before had set.
Then did the Greek vs Troyans greete, he faind a sober cheere,
And said he grieud at Hectors death that was so braue a Peere.
And further that he knew his death was to his mother paine,
And to his sister whom he loude, wherfore (quoth he) againe,
I am content to make amends for that which I haue done.
And that in stead of Hector slaine I mind to be thy sonne.
And for assurance of the thing, by Ioue he did protest,
That after this (by his good will) the town of Troy should rest
From further war, and therwithall his loue he did embrace,
And fixt his eyes in doting sort vpon my daughters face,
Not fearing any future hap, nor doubting any ill:
For that in all respects we did according to his will.
Which Paris spide, behind the tombe, when hand in hand we went.
His sword prepard with mighty force, through back and side he sent.
That down Achilles falles right soon all groueling on the ground:
From gored sides the bloud did flow foorth of his mortall wound.
There lay the wretch that earst we feard, now breathing out his last
Whom Paris wild to eager curres should presently be cast.
For vsing of his brethren so in such despitefull wise:
Their bodies dead he did abuse before their mothers eyes.
Wherto my sonne sir Helenus by no meanes then would yeeld
How that the body of the Greek should lie in open field,
Where beasts and foules might feed their fill: but craude the Greeks might haue
The body of their slaughtered friend to lay in resting graue.
Which thing was done, though vndeserud on vile Achilles part,
That euer sought by spitefull meanes to slay my wofull hart.
Then home we came with this reuenge more mery than before:
For well we wist Achilles fierce should neuer hurt vs more.
Now Fortune faund on me awhile, awhile it was indeed:
For that the angry Gods against me wretch had still decreed.
Achilles dead, the Greekes afresh fierce war did vndertake:
And vowed reuenge on all my frends for slaine Achilles sake.
And on my daughter chiefe of all for working them such spight:
VVith one consent on either part they faithfull promise plight.
If that in case our towne they take, wherof before they boast
My daughter they will sacrifice to dead Achilles ghost.
But hauing slaine so fierce a foe the Troyans all were glad.
[Page]And craued the field against the Greekes, who now remayned sad
For losing of so braue a Peere, who was their chiefest ayd,
Wherfore to fight with vs we thought the Grecians were afrayd.
Yet were we all deceiude for that more fiercer than before
The Grecians fought, that down there falles on either side great store.
Their rage was great for to reuenge the death of this their Peere:
And fiercely fought in desperate sort, as men without all feare.
At last I climde to wonted place where often I had been:
Yet neuer there but some mishap by me poore wretch was seen,
From whence I viewd the bloudy broyle which grieude me to behold
How that the Greeks and Troyans stout in bloud together rolde,
At last I spied where Paris was (my sonne) who then did chase
A Grecian Peere, Sir Aiax stout, who fled before his face.
Not Aiax Telamon I meane, but Oelius Aiax he
Whom Paris chasdin open field that all the Greekes might see.
At last the Greek receiud a wound though he full swiftly flew:
For that my sonne the flying chase did eagerly pursue.
A greeuous wound it was indeede, for Aiax feeling paine
By flight could not preuaile, wherfore perforce he turnde againe,
And did encounter with my sonne who first had made him smart:
And with his sword (O haples hap) strake Paris to the hart.
There died my sonne before my face, which Helen well doeth know
Who stood with me when that her mate receiude that fatall blow.
The Greek like bedlem beast layd on, for dolor of his wound,
And stabd my sonne through back and side, starke dead vpon the ground.
Whose corps when that the Greeks had spied, with mighty force they run
To haue a part of Paris dead, for his offences done.
For well they knew he was the man that stole their Prince his wife:
Which was the chiefest cause of all that bred that bloudy strife.
VVherfore each Greek to haue him dead did mightely contend:
And sure had got my sonne, but that the Troyans did defend
The mangled corps of Paris dead, and kept from Grecian force
My sonne whom they would faine haue caught to plague his senslesse corse.
VVhose life was gone they right well knew, but they like hellish hounds
Did hunt to haue his carkas dead to plague with grieuous wounds.
His senslesse corps they could not hurt, yet they as men starke mad:
Of worldly wealth would geue great store so that they might haue had
Aliue or dead, or but a part, to satisfie their will:
For well they wist he was the man that did Achilles kill.
[Page]Wherefore they fiercely fought to haue the body of my sonne,
Who slewe Achylles traytrously, and first that warre begunne,
But by the ayde of Troyans stout in maugre of their might,
The body of my sonne was brought foorth of that bloody fight,
Whose corps was laide before my face a grieuous sight to see:
The armes and legs which Greekes hewde off, was likewise brought to mee,
The pale aspect of this my sonne did mortifie my minde,
That downe vpon the corps I fell, in hope some ease to finde,
For willingly I would haue dide, to finish vp my care,
The gods denide it should be so, but still my life did spare;
For further woe and miserie they meant I should abide,
Which would to God I had not seene, but that I then had dide.
Faire Helena for this her mate in wofull sort did morne,
Who was the cause that all the Greekes against our state had sworne,
All Troy was sad for my hard hap they waile on euerie side,
Both olde and yong through euery streete, in mournefull manner cride.
His funeralls and other rites in order al well done,
And Troyans al had wailde their fill for losse of this my sonne:
Then Helen faire her sorrow slackt, by course of weeping tears▪
Her beauty bright to Deiphoebe, in secret sort appeeres,
So that the man halfe mad for her doth earnestly require
The Grecian Dame, and that he might foorthwith haue his desire:
He was my sonne, wherefore as then I seemed well content,
He had his choice, but then ere long the acte he did repent:
The Greekes that knew how al things went came fierce againe ere long.
When they had filld their rankes with men to maintaine battaile strong,
And gaue sharpe siege to Troyan walls which Troyans did defend;
From that time foorth the angry Greekes no idle time did spend,
But day by day did still inuent to worke our great annoy,
And plots did lay how to betray the stately towne of Troy:
For now they found no force preuailde against so strong a towne,
Their hope was past, by open force to beate our turrets downe,
Though diuers of our states were dead, and men of great account,
The Grecian peeres which Troyans slewe our number did surmount,
Our losse was great and ouer great, whereof the Grecians bost:
We also knew what mighty states the Grecian army lost,
Yet were we strong and strong enough for all the Grecian states,
And dayly put their men to foile before the Troyan gates:
Which well they spide, wherefore at length, by secret meanes they sought
[Page]To take our towne, and with our states full priuily they wrought,
They promise that these traytors vile, should haue their goods and liues,
And all their friendes (whome they thought good) their children and their wiues
Should freed be from sacke or spoile, if that they would betray
Both Prince and towne into their power, to be a Grecian pray.
Aeneas that disloyall man especially I blame,
And false Antenor, who at first consented to the same,
Both vile disloyall wretches they thus to betray their King,
And Grecian armies set in rankes within our towne to bring,
But sure I thinke the gods decreede at first it should be so,
Wherefore I lesse do blame these men for bringing in our fo.
Fell destinie so frownd on me, wherefore this latest fate
Was first decreede for Paris fault, against King Pryams state,
To plague me oft with wofull sights, to see my children torne,
Both planets sure, and fortune vile against me wretch had sworne.
Our towne betrayde, not knowing as yet, til after, when too late,
For that the Greekes with mightie troups were entred in the gate
In silent night, by helpe of friends when Troyans were at rest:
They marched on, for well they knew the lowring night was best,
For this their subtile policie: when we to rest were laide,
The Greekes came in, our gates were ope, loe thus we were betraide.
Now was my woe afresh renude, my miseries forepast
To this mishap a trifle was, but sorrow now full fast
In spitefull wise did shew her force, to vexe me more and more:
And fortune frownd in worser sort than she had done before:
For now my friends and deere alies in paued streetes so wide
Besmerde with blood do gaping lie, as they to succour hide.
The conquerde towne which then was lost in vaine they sought to saue,
With rankes of men not armde for haste, they lusty larums gaue,
But al in vaine was this their force for that the Grecians fell,
With murdring minds so laide about, a greeuous thing to tell,
And so be hact and hewde our men vnarmed as they stoode,
That like to streames the Troyans streetes did flowe with gory bloode:
There lay the States and Peeres of Troy, whome angry Greekes had slaine,
For that they thought to saue the towne which Grecians meant to gaine.
Thus passing vp our stately streets, such mighty spoile they made,
So that I thinke it grieude the Greekes in Troyan blood to wade,
Yet for because we had abusde the Grecians in such sort,
The slaughters vile of guiltlesse men was to the Greekes a sport:
[Page]At last when all the towne was wonne, the states for succour flewe
To Pryams pallace, hoping that the foe would not pursue,
Nor there to spoile the aged Prince for reuerence of his yeares,
Who long had liude in Phrygia land, as at this day appeares.
But they to reuerence aged yeares, so little had regarde,
That Prince and Peere, both olde and yong by Grecians was not sparde,
The pallace faire of Pryamus, the greedy Greekes beset
With weapons bright, and fiercely fought, their hoped pray to get.
There now the battaile great was vp, as if no place else where
Had felt of warre, and die did none in all the towne but there,
So mightily the Greekes did run, to houses tops we see
The posts brake down, and gates brake ope, beset that none might flee,
The wals with scaling ladders laide, and props for scaffolds hie,
That vp by staires they climbe, and backe they driue the darts that flie▪
To battlements full fast they cling, on battred walls they holde
While Troyans downe vpon their heads the tops of towers rolde,
Full fierce a while the Troyans fought, but al their force was vaine,
For that the gods had vowde, there should no part of Troy remaine
Vnconquered, and Pryamus the King of Troy should knowe,
How that he did not wel when first he made the Greekes his foe.
At last the gates too weake to holde, by force were opened wide,
And fearefull foes with armour bright passde in on euery side.
The peeres within right wel perceiude the cruel foes intent,
Vnable to withstand their force to dreadfull death were sent:
Which I beheld from secret place where I my selfe did shrowde,
And other moe that time with me, to saue themselues did crowde.
My kinsmen deere and faithfull friends before my face they made
To be as wood before the axe, and buckler to the blade,
Dismembring them in wofull sort, a lamentable thing,
And oft enquirde for Pryamus that they might kill the King,
Which well I wist wherefore from thence my selfe I did conuay,
And word did send to Pryamus, that there he should not stay
But seeke someway by priuy doores to scape their bloody hand,
And not to bide amongst their force, nor to their mercy stand,
And then into the streetes I passde by secret wayes vnknowne,
Where chanells deepe (ah grieuous sight) with blood was ouer-flowne,
And martred men scarce dead did lie, there breathing out their last,
A worser hap then this I spide, as I by chaunce did cast
Mine eies aside where I perceiude sir Menelaus he,
[Page]In armour bright, so lyon-like fast marching towards me,
And as he came, he soone had spide how Deiphoebe my sonne
Made haste to shun his cruel hand, and swiftly thence did runne
For that he feared the desperate foe, and knowing iust cause why,
Made greater haste to saue himselfe, and fast away did fly:
The Greeke despising that my sonne of al the rest should scape,
Because he held his lawful wife, he would reuenge that rape:
For when that Paris late was slaine, then this my sonne did take
Faire Helen Menelaus wife which did against him make,
And now before my face this Greeke my louing sonne had cought,
Whom he before through all the towne full egerly had sought
To make him rue his former deede: and Paris being slaine,
He vowde my sonne that held his wife, should yeeld her vp againe.
Lo thus (I say) before my face the greedy Greeke there helde
My sonne, who to the bedlem beast in humble sort did yelde:
But he in steade of clemencie did shewe his cruell minde,
My sonne that yeelded at his foote the tyrant vile did binde,
His nose he cut, his eares and lips, and plucked out his sight,
His other limmes in spiteful sort, he did dismember quite:
Take heere (quoth he) the due reward of Paris fault forepast,
Thy brother dead, for if he liude, a worser plague should taste.
Wherefore commend me to his ghost, and truely to him tell,
That I for his offences vile did send thy soule to hell.
And therewithall he stabde my sonne that willing was to die:
Which thing once done, yet further griefe I chanced to espie,
For presently right neare my sight it was my hap to see
My daughter, whom full deare I loude, my sweete Cassandra she
Most vilely to be drawne along, whose handes and feete were bound
In spitefull sort by haire of head, they dragged on bloody ground,
They hallde her still along the streetes, where gory blood did flowe,
That when she past along by me, I scarce her face did knowe:
But soone she spide me where I stoode, and lifting vp her eies,
To haughty heauens, and for redresse in wofull sort she cries,
And calls aloude to haue my ayde, when I myselfe had neede
Of ayde, to succour my mishap, and that to haue with speede:
Yet still she cryes, O mother, helpe, lay to your helping hand,
Let not this Greeke misuse me thus, while you on looking stand,
But rather seeke to succour me from this vile tyrant wilde,
And saue me from this cruell Greeke that mindes to force your childe:
[Page]Sweet mother help (quoth she againe) get Troyans to defend
Me thus abusde But she in vayn her wofull voice did spend:
For I my selfe did quaking stand, expecting still the end;
Amongst my foes I there was placde, I could not spie a frend.
Yet following fast my daughter deere to see what might betide:
Who still for ayd on me poore soule, continually cride.
To Pallas temple she was drawn, in Troy a sacred place,
And there my daughter was abusde before her mothers face.
That bad vngodly Greek did deale with her, and did abuse
The holy place with such a fact, her body to misuse.
Which when I saw I could not stay to geue the looking on,
But cried aloud for Troyan ayd although I could get none.
That holy temple was defilde with such a filthy deed:
For which offence that wretch ere long vnhappily did speed.
Away I trudgd opprest with grief, vnable to geue ayd,
Or to reuenge my selfe on him that this vile part had playd.
And as I past from place to place, it was my chance to see
A hundred of my daughter-lawes which did enquire for me.
And quaking stood in open street with minds resolud to dy:
For well they knew the wayes were stopt, that none away could fly.
With wofull cries we wayld a good, down dropt the brinish teares
But all in vain, for dreadfull death in ougly shape appeares.
Yet lingring still in hope to line, we seek to find reliefe:
And rangde about in streets vnknown, which bred vs further grief.
For as I past I might behold an altar huge to stand
In open street, wherto we went to shun their cruell hand.
A sacred place, where all our Gods were painted on a row:
There throngd we thick about that place to shrowd vs from our foe.
Which place we thought the angry Greeks durst not once be so bold
Before the Gods our bloud to shed, wherfore on them we hold,
And thought the Gods would vs defend, and priuiledge the place:
And as a sanctuary safe to help in such a case.
Thus sitting there, at last I spide old Priamus my mate:
Who yet had scapt their murdring hand, but this his heauy state
VVas death to me, yea death it selfe my husband deare to see
So chacte as hare before the hound who fast for life did flee.
The aged man whose quaking limmes could scant his body beare
Had weapons got, and armour bright vpon his back did weare.
His bending hams did beare the waight vnfit for Priams yeares:
[Page]VVith speare in hand as if no state of Grecian land he feares.
His manly mind was bent to fight, his feeble force to try:
And he amongst his louing frends most willingly would dy.
The heauy harnesse ouer huge my husband would assay:
That being on, his speare in hand could scarce his body stay.
But staggering stood, not fit to fight infeebled so by age:
Yet he against his cruell foes in desperat wise did rage.
VVhich soon I spide, wherfore as then I humbly did desire
To rage no more, but seeme content, and pacifie his ire.
I wild him then without delay to sacred place repare:
VVhich thing to touch the greedy Greeks would haue especiall care.
For that the Gods there present were to keep vs free from spoyle:
VVhose presence what bold Grecian dares pollute with bloudy foyle.
And therwithall in hast I drew him to the altar side,
And set him down (old feeble man) but see what did betide:
By this time Pryams pallace faire was yealded to the Greekes,
And Pyrrhus fierce Achilles sonne in euery corner seekes
For Priamus that aged sire, and for his louing sonnes:
In hope to gaine them with the spoile full eagerly he runs.
And hauing found Polytes out, in cruell sort did chase
The fearfull youth, who for his life did trudge the streets apace.
And comming where his father sate, there hoping to haue ayd:
Yet scarcely come to wished place but that proud Pyrrhus stayd
Our sonne, and there within our sight with churlish fist fast held:
And presently in parents view Polites there he feld.
There panting lay our louing sonne by breathles course neare spent:
VVhile Pyrrhus stern his fatall speare through back and side had sent.
That dying straight his hands vp held to take his last farewell:
It makes me shrink to call to mind, and greeues me now to tell
VVhat after did ensue, for that King Priam could not rest:
VVith such a sight as commonly each father dooth detest.
For to reuenge his sonne so slain he needs would take in hand:
VVhen he (good man) vnable was with feeble age to stand,
But he to shew his noble mind bad Pyrrhus proud pack hence:
Forth of his sight, or els he would with speed driue him from thence.
VVhat darst thou now thou wretch (quoth he) thus in my presence stay?
VVhen that my sonne whom well I loude thou didst before me slay.
And wilt thou stand to braue it out to breed me further paine?
No that I will not sure digest, though I my selfe be slaine.
[Page]And therwithall in feeble fist his speare he trembling held,
Whose quaking lims by age opprest could scant his weapon weld.
And at proud Pyrrhus he lets driue his hurtles speare (God knowes)
Wherof strong Pyrrhus might haue born for need a thousand blowes.
Achilles bastard borne (quoth he) by this I know thou art:
That dares presume before my face to play so hard a part.
Thou wretch, thou misbegotten wretch, that thus hast shewd thy kind
For well I know thou art the man that bearst so bad a mind.
With that (quoth he) Neoptolemus my fathers sonne, the same
That was the bastard, and not I, for Pyrrhus is my name.
And for because in time to come thou shalt not vse me so
With these hard tearms, a token I will geue thee how to know
My brother and my selfe apart, wherfore thou shalt enquire
Ere long of slaine Achilles ghost to proue thy selfe a lier.
And therwithall the spitefull Greek from sacred place did draw
My noblemate by haire of head, contrary to all law.
And through the bloud of his slaine sonne the aged man he drew:
And right before our sacred Gods my husband deare he slew.
With fatall blade before my face he piercde his tender side:
That right against the Gods themselues my louing husband dide.
The Gods no help at all would geue the Grecian to preuent:
Nor that the Troyan Prince should liue, but they with one consent
Did vow his death for former fault, and for his sinnes offence.
No earthly wight for this his sinne could with their power dispence.
But die he must it was decreed, and dreadfull death should end
This bloudy war, that after none in like case should offend.
My husband dead, I did behold a grieuous sight to see:
His daughters all bewayld his hap which then did stand with me.
The cellers deep and hollow caues with wayling all did sound:
And from the hauty houses tops the Echo did rebound.
Ah heauy chaunce to see him slaine who was my chiefest ioy:
The Emperor of Asia great, and stately King of Troy.
Who now lay slaine before my face, but being then starke dead:
With louing zeale on Priam slaine my greedy eyes I fed.
What hath this princox boy (quoth I) my louing husband slaine
Beside our Gods without reuenge, what shall he still remaine
Aliue, to vaunt of this his deed, or brag of such a fact
Before the Greeks his cruell mates, who ioyes at this his act.
Ye Gods, ye sacred Gods (I cride) although your wrath be great
[Page]Against vs Troyans now subdude, whose ruine ye did threat
For Paris sinne yet haue regard on Triam thus betrayd.
VVho now is dead by your decree, wherfore his debt is payd.
But now (quoth I) graunt my request, that this vile Greek may rue
This cruell deed in time to come, that euer he so slue
The aged King, for reuerence of gray and aged haires:
VVhose youth was come by yearly course to old and aged yeares.
Let not the slaughter of a King make proud his hauty hart:
Nor that he long may make his vaunt of this so hard a part.
But as your iustice now is seen, in so reuenging wrong:
So Pyrrhus proud by your consent may rue this deed ere long.
VVhen Priam thus by Pyrrhus sword had breathed out his last,
And that the town was quite subdude by Grecians fighting fast,
The Greeks demaund Polixena, because she first procurde
Achilles death by fained loue, through which he was allurde:
VVhom when they found, this Pyrrhus craude to haue my louing child
That so had causde his fathers death by working such a wilde,
But when she knew the earnest suite of fierce Achilles sonne:
For succour to me helples wretch, with vaine hope fast did run.
VVith clasping armes about my neck on me she cride for ayd,
For Pyrrhus, dead Achilles sonne, had made her sore afrayd.
Help mother now at need (quoth she) still weeping on my brest:
A place too weak, for greedy Greeks, for there she might not rest.
Grim Pyrrhus with an eager look did teare her from my lap:
VVith churlish fist he gript the girle, O hard and cruell hap?
That still mine eyes should witnes beare of this my wofull case,
And that both mate and children deare should die before my face.
By haire of head Polixena was drawne along the street:
VVhere diuers of her wofull frends in sorrowing sort did meete
To waile with her, for well they wist to dreadfull death she went.
Achilles death now to reuenge they knew proud Pyrrhus ment.
And as they thought it came to passe, for Pyrrhus did deuise,
Vpon his fathers tombe as then my child to sacrifise
Vnto the ghost of his slaine Sire, his death to recompence:
And that Achilles ghost might know it was for her offence.
Polixena so halde along by such a cruell foe:
VVhat should become of this my child as then I did not know.
VVherfore to see I followed fast what would to her betide:
VVhere round about Achilles tombe a troup of Greeks I spide,
[Page]Which readie were to giue their aide if need should so require,
My daughters death with one consent each Gretian did desire:
And there before my face they bound both hand and foote full fast
Of this my child, that willing was of bitter death to tast.
But hauing spide me where I stood, her hands and feete fast bound,
In token of her last farewell, her head towards me she twound,
And fixt her eyes on me (poore wretch) with such a wofull looke,
With nodding head for want of limmes, her last farewell she tooke.
Then Pyrrhus mad vntill reuenge did drawe his fatall blade,
And slewe my child vpon the tombe, which he before had made
In honour of his father dead, and there with gorie blood
Imbrewd the graue: which cruell act did all the Gretians good.
These words he spake which well I heard (quoth he) take here thine end,
Thy soule vnto my fathers ghost for thine offence I send,
And for the fault of Paris slaine, King Priam late did rewe
His sonnes vile part; for with this hand the aged man I slewe.
O fortune vile, that sparde my life to see this wofull day,
My friends starke dead whom Grecians slewe, in euery corner lay,
Not one was left to comfort me that could my woe redresse.
But mourning matrons whose hard hap increasde my heauinesse,
And last of al the angry Greekes to breede vs further care:
The traytours of our common wealth, from sacke or spoile they spare:
Aeneas, and Antenor he, those that betrayde our towne,
In conquerde Troy had liberty as walkers vp and downe,
The spoile once had our stately towne with fire fierce did flame:
The gods decreed my life should last that I might see the same,
Then did I see our lofty towers consumde with fire to fall,
In burning houses children cride, which number was not small:
A world of woe to call to minde the latter spoile of Troy,
When Greekes with fire our City great did vtterly destroy,
Fierce was the flame on euery side, downe falls the buildings faire,
The temples of our sacred gods the fier did not spare,
Till all things flat vpon the ground did lie like desart plaine,
For memorie of this our tovvne the vvalls did not remaine,
Dovvne to the earth it smoking lay defaced so vvith fire.
To ruine novv all things vvere come vvhich vvas the Greekes desire,
The bodies of the Troyans slaine in Zanthus floud did svvimme,
Eche channell deepe vvith crimson blood stoode floting to the brimme:
The members of our martred men in barren fields they flung,
[Page]In fertile sort to fat the earth in steade of other dung,
That where the towne of Troy did stand in little space was seene
Where houses stoode there grasse did growe in sprouting sort full greene;
And where the Temples of our gods in stately maner stoode,
The dockes and weedes were cherished by losse of Troyans bloode,
No place of Troy vntoucht did stand, but all for waste was layde:
The Greekes cride quit with that vile part that Paris first had playde.
When that mine eies had seene all this the sorrowes which were past,
Eche wofull hap once callde to minde, starke mad I fell at last,
And raging in the fieldes I ran where lately Troy did stand:
From thence when I had raylde my fill, I passde to Thracia land,
Where Polymnestor that vile wretch and traytor bad did raigne,
Who had betrayde yong Polidore my sonne for filthie gaine.
Which cruell acte (though then starke mad) in minde I still did beare
That for reuenge on him I fell, and out his eies did teare,
To worke him woe for this his deede my frantike minde was fierce,
The cheekes of this disloyall wretch my nayles did soundly pierce,
That he foorthwith had lost his sight for this his former deede.
O would to God all traitours thus for treacherie might speede:
This deede once done, my troubled minde somewhat I did appease,
For wel I wist the wretch was blinde which did my sorrow ease,
And also to my further ioy proude Pyrrhus lost his life,
When he returned home to Greece by reason of the strife
That stout Orestes had with him for Hermion that wench,
That nothing else but present death could this their quarrell quench:
Achylles sonne at last was slaine, Orestes had his ioy.
And Pyrrhus might repent the time that first he came to Troy,
Where he imbrewde himselfe with blood, and slewe the aged King,
Which was the cause of his mishap, and sure no other thing:
The gods that knew his cruell minde, and saw his wilfull fact
Could not lesse do than make the Greeke repent his bloudy act.
Orestes slue Achylles sonne, thus Pyrrhus being dead,
Like hearbes to pot his flesh was chopt, no otherwise he sped:
This newes to me some comfort was in this my wofull state,
To heare what hard mishap befell to him that slue my mate.
And well I wist his father first for vsing me so ill
Was slaine himselfe by my consent, for Paris did him kill:
And also how that Thracian King that Polymnestor hight,
For so betraying of my sonne, and doing me that spite,
[Page]Receiude a guerdon for his fact, his lumen lights he lost,
Wherefore the traytor of his gaines, I thinke, could scarcely bost,
Of all the rest it did me good, for that my hands had done
Such due reuenge on that vile wretch that so betrayde my sonne.
I ioyde a while at this my deede my sorrow wel did flake,
For that I knew they dide the death of whom before I spake.
But when againe I callde to minde my children that were gone,
And deere alies, of whom the Greekes aliue had left not one:
And how olde Pryamus my mate before my face did die
On Pyrrhus blade that Grecian grim, while I in vaine did crie
For helpe, to free him from the hand of this his spitefull fo,
In vaine I cride, for that the gods decreede it should be so.
And then when that I thought on Troy, on Troy our stately towne.
Which was the eie of all the world, but now by Greekes throwne downe,
And like a desart place did lie, no signe of Troy did stand:
The empire stout of Asia great, so wrested from our hand,
That I the greatest Queene on earth, so was my stately stile
In time forepast, and now to be a helplesse wretch most vile:
So base and humbly was I vsde farre from my former state,
That harborlesse I rangde about, this was my haplesse fate.
Despisde of all, receiude of none, refusde of those that faund
On me before, when I their Queene did euery thing commaund.
But now, although I vsde them well in elder time before,
They to requite my courtesie did shut me foorth of dore:
And let me lie without reliefe, this kindnesse they did showe;
In Princes place, to me they sude, but now they would not knowe
Their haplesse Queene in miserie, but let me raging runne
In euery corner where I would, eche wight me wretch did shunne:
Not Greekes I meane, but subiects mine, who sometime did professe
In Asia soile me for their Queene, and now in this distresse
The Greekes had awde their minds so far, they durst not on me looke:
But as a thing that venyme was eche liuing wight forsooke:
Which when I spide, and callde to minde my former stately place,
And now againe did see my selfe to liue in such disgrace:
In frantike sort my heart was vext, the anguish of my minde,
Like bedlam beast did make me run the spitefull Greekes to finde
That were the causers of my woe, that I reuenge might take
On all the wrongs that they had done, and for my husbands sake,
Whom they had slaine before my face, and for my children deare,
[Page]For whose sweete sakes, amongst the Greekes I went without al feare,
With eger fist I laide on loade, with nayles, and feete at length,
But slender hurt, a womans hand could do to men of strength,
Yet notwithstanding my good will was seene by this my force
And theirs againe (O wretched me) by vsing such remorce,
For when that I had done my worst, and shewed my vtter might,
And breathlesse stoode for want of breath by this my feeble fight,
The Greekes with stones did compasse me, whose force I stil defide,
Till they with stones did strike me downe, where presently I dide.
Lo thus, when that all vile mishaps had chaunced vnto me,
Whome fortune followed to the death with such extremitie:
And that mine eies (to my great griefe) such wofull things had seene,
But would to God before the warre long time I dead had beene.
When all such haps of hatefull dome that fortune could assigne
Did chaunce to me by haplesse hap, such luckelesse lot was mine,
To ende my dayes in great disgrace I dide among my foes,
They stoned me to death (poore wretch) a heauy end God knowes,
Had euer any such mishap since first the world begunne,
Or any one did know such woe that liued vnder sunne,
As I my selfe (poore wretched Queene) though bootelesse now I mourne,
For remedlesse the cause remaines when Planets all had sworne,
And haughty gods to worke me woe for Paris filthie sinne,
Who would to God had dide the death when life did first begin:
Or would to God (I wish too late) the waues had beene his graue,
When he to Lacedemon went faire Helen for to haue:
O Neptune fierce couldst thou not frowne and Eolus out call,
With whirling windes to drench his ship, his company and all,
But safely so to suffer him to swimme with gale at will.
The doting youth in prime of yeres, his fancie to fulfill,
In Simois and Zanthus flood, his ships did seeme to saile:
So quiet was the seas as then because he should preuaile.
What, did ye seaish Gods decree together with consent,
To plague the Troian state so farre, as angrie Pallas ment?
Ye Gods that rule both land and sea, why did ye thus decree,
That Neptunes towne, at first so cald, to Greekes a pray should bee?
If otherwise ye ment at all, his ship should not haue past
So quietlie through surging seas by helpe of Boreas blast:
For Triton mild did shewe his face so happilie that day,
That Paris past with sprouting sailes into the Gretian bay.
[Page]What was become of Palemon, did Glaucus hide his head?
Their swift recourse far from his ship in partiall sort was fled.
The Strencoucht Antiphates, Parthenope was gone
That wonted were to keep their course, but novv there vvas not one,
Not Circe nor Calipso vvould their vvonted magike vse:
Although they knevv the lecher meant Atrides to abuse.
So Zephirus and Eurus fell, with Aquilo did lurke:
And hid themselues while Boreas with frendly gale did work.
Nereides were past away, Latonas imps did shine.
Ech thing did smoothly smile that day by help of Gods diuine.
And all was for the Troyan wracke, to plague my sonnes offence.
For Paris needs to Greece would goe, and soon returnd from thence.
But would to God the brinish seas, with raging waues so wild
Had drownd that baud that Theseus first in filthy sort defilde:
And that my sonne had dide with her before he came to shore:
Then Troy had stood and flourisht still, as long it did before.
But Helen Menelaus wife that was Sir Paris ioy,
VVas first occasion of our woe, and latest fate to Troy.
O would the tygers first had torne the lims of this my sonne,
VVhen aged Priam sentence gaue on that which was not done.
The cause wherof was mine own deed which act I now repent:
For that the Oracle did shew before the boyes intent.
But now I know I wish too late: the angry Gods had sworn
To plague our state for some offence. For Paris being born,
VVhose desteny the Oracle did openly declare,
And yet to see, my hap was such that wicked babe to spare.
VVho was the cause of this mischaunce, and breeder of our woe:
His death had been to vs a life, and life to thousands mo.
Yet I for pitie sake would not consent that this my boy
The tygers brood his tender lims should vtterly destroy.
VVhat power diuine did hinder me, or what infernall fiend?
VVhat did both heauen and earth to this their vtter forces bend?
O what offence did we commit that all the Gods should frowne:
And thus decree with one consent to pluck our Empire downe?
Did they appoint that I should breed, and foster in my lap
A scourge to plague the parents sinne, and cause of their mishap?
VVas it king Priams fathers fault that Laomedon bad
That builded Troy vvith borovved coyne? for he receiued had
Of Neptune and Apollos Priests a summe of money great,
[Page]And when the day appoynted came, the wretch forsware the debt,
With mighty vowes the periurde man at altar side did say
He borrowed none to buyld his walles, and therfore none would pay.
But whether twere for periurie, or for my sonnes offence
I cannot tell, but well I know it was a recompence
For double and for treble sinne, so many thousand dide:
From Nations far the world dooth know the people thether hide
In hope of pay to either side great troupes of men did run:
But what was gaind saue deadly fight? or what but death was won?
Did euer any feel such woe as I poore wretch did tast?
Did euer Fortune yeeld such lookes as she on me did cast?
O hauty Gods what hap was mine to feel such bitter paine?
Did destiny assigne me that, to make me thus complaine?
I would that I had been vnborn, or borne I dead had been:
For then these wofull miseries I wretch had neuer seen.
Why did the Gods cause me to liue? why did they thus decree?
Was this their will that I should liue with present eyes to see
My louing mate and children slaine, and Troy to burn with fire?
If they did will it should be so, then they had their desire.
But fie on that vile destinie, O fie on that hard curse:
The Gods themselues could not deuise how they should plague me worse.
And then with wringing hands she wept, with wayling voice she cride:
Which griende me sore, about I turnd, where presently I spide
An aged man both graue and grim, for that he seemed sad:
Right father like for grayish haires, with Princely robes be clad:
Vnto the wofull Queen he marchd, and thus in modest sort
Began to quip her frantike mood as I shall geue report.
What madnes now hath mooude thy mind (quoth he) O louing mate,
That thus thou fretst against the Gods, and frantikelie doost prate?
Can this thy fuming mind redresse, or cause the things vndone
To be againe? No, if we liude againe we could not shun
The Gods decree, wherfore be still shake off such heauines:
In vaine it is to vexe thy selfe where cause is remedles.
VVhat shall thy ghost that now should rest, in worldly cares still dwell:
And thinke on things that carst were past, O plague far worse than hell.
Then suffer thou thy ghost to take her quiet ease at last.
And call thou not to mind againe that vvhich is gone and past.
Thou knovvest our destinie vvas so, vve could it not preuent:
[Page]For that the Gods to plague our sinne for some abusesment.
What should we kick against the spur, or swim against the tide?
Or striue for that to haue at will which angry Gods denide?
When I had sent my sonne to death, and that he should be kild,
His life thou sauedst, wherfore thou seest that destenie it wild.
But I to shun Simphlegades on Hebrus lake did light:
And coasting from Charibdis gulfe on Scilla rock did smite.
Thus seeking how all dangers great by counsell I might shun:
Did vnawares ere that I wist to present perils run.
Was I the cause that Helen faire with Paris came to Troy:
No sure it was fell destenie, or fickle Fortune coy.
For when the Oracle had told what hap in time should fall:
I wild to take away the cause. For witnes now I call
The sacred Gods who knew my mind, my sonne I would haue slaine.
I was content my flesh and bloud the tygers chop should staine,
Because I feard the prophesie, therfore I did consent.
But what of that? the Gods themselues did hinder mine intent.
For if the Gods decree it once, I know it will fall out:
Let no man think the powers diuine by any meane to stout.
Sir Satire sonne to Pariside, of Bosphore sometime king,
Was wild by Oracle to shun a mouse of any thing.
For that a mouse should be his death except he took great heed:
The Oracle did tell him flat his fate was so decreed.
But he to shun the warned harme did slay the silly mice
In field and town, that none might liue his death to enterprice:
And in his land no man might dwell that mouse was cald by name:
He sought each way to saue himselfe, he feared so the same.
He stopt the holes of creeping mice in euery place full sure:
For that the vermins by no meanes his death might once procure.
Yet see the end, when least he thought of this forewarned harme:
He wounded was vpon the brawne or muscle of the arme:
For Musculus a little mouse in Latine we doo call:
And Mus a mouse which Satire slew, as after did befall.
A dagger piercd Sir Satirs arme right where the muscle grew:
And muscle comes of Musculus, though then too late he knew.
And Philip King of Macedon was warned to beware
Of wagon or of wheeled coach: wherfore he had a care
To keep himselfe from any such: he neuer could abide
To come in coach for feare of that, but still on horse did ride.
[Page]For all his care it so fell out he could it not preuent:
He was deceiud, no running coach by this before was ment.
For being slaine, the sword that slew the King was brought to sight
And viewed well, where on the hilts a coach was grauen right.
To Pelius it was declarde when that he chauncd to see
One barefoot doing rights vnto his fathers ghost, that he
Should then of death in danger stand, the prophesie was so:
Because he should take heed of him, and shun the warned foe.
When he was doing of his rights vnto his fathers ghost:
His nephew Iason came by chance, whose right foot shoo was lost
And there vnto his grandsire dead the youth his dewes did giue.
The vncle then with ielous mind not long did think to liue,
For that he feard his neuew now, who barefoot there did stand
Should be the cause of his dispatch, wherfore he out of hand
Did counsell Iason being young to Colchos Ile to sayle.
To fetch the golden fleece from thence: wherin he did preuaile▪
His meaning was that Iason should be lost or drownd therin,
The conquest seemd vnpossible the golden fleece to win.
And for because he might not feare the prophesie forepast
He shipt his neuew speedely, and sent him thence in hast.
But Iason soon returnde again, and brought away the fleece:
And brought Medea home with him to be old Pelias Neece.
To Thessalie Medea came, and hearing what was done;
Against the aged Pelias, she presently begun
To practise treason at the last, and causd the aged sire
By his own daughters to be slaine, this was for Pelias hire.
For he that could not trust the man that was his kinsman near:
But purposely did seek his death to free himselfe from fear.
Had such a chance, ere that he wist Medea did the deed.
His ielous mind was chiefest cause that made him so to speed.
The Oracle long time before did know old Pelias mind:
Wherfore it told what destenie was to the man assignde.
Of fiftie daughters Danaus to be the sire was knowne:
Aegiptus then his brother had so many sonnes his own.
Aegiptus would haue all these his sonnes his brothers daughters wed:
But Danaus would not consent, wherfore away he fled
And tooke his daughters all with him, because he did suspect
A sonne in law would be his death, therfore he did reiect
The offer that his brother made, but why he did refraine:
[Page]The cause was thus, the Oracle did say he should be slaine
By him that was his sonne in law, wherefore he sought to shunne
Such destinie as might befall through such a wicked sonne.
Aegyptus wroth with this his deede, did send his sonnes to stay
Their vncle that before was fled, and pact from thence away.
His sonnes according to his will old Danaus did take,
And causde him there against his will a marrige day to make:
His daughters all were wedded then against their fathers will,
Eche man his cousin germaine had, Aegyptus did fulfill
His mind at last, and did reioyce in this so strange a march.
But Danaus not well content, did worke a swift dispatch,
Because he fearde the prophecie, least that on him should light:
He did commaund his daughters all they should appoint a night,
Wherein eche one with willing minde her slumbring mate should slay,
And disappoint the prophecie before the morrow day:
His iealous minde did vexe him so, he still did doubt the worst,
Til it was done he could not rest, the man did so mistrust:
According to the fathers minde they did commit the act,
The nuptiall bed was so defilde with such a filthie fact,
All sauing one was slaine that night, a hard and cruel part,
Whose life was saude, for that his wife did wil him thence to start,
For very loue she bare to him, though all her sisters had
Destroyde their mates, which deede she thought to be right vile and bad.
Thus being saude by such a meane, the sonne in law did wexe
Right fierce against his father law, and earnestly did vexe,
He vowde reuenge on Danaus, that thus vniustly delt,
He swore that he should taste the same that they before had felt:
And in the end he slue the wretch, for doing of that deede:
The Oracle pronouncde before how Danaus should speede,
Thus seeking how to shunne his fate his death he did procure,
Himselfe was cause of his dispatch, when he thought all things sure.
The Theban king that Laius hight by Oracle was tolde,
That Oedipus his onely sonne would proue a man too bolde,
And in the end should be the death of him that was his sier.
But Laius thought to frustrate that, and proue his god a lier,
Vnto a shepheard of his owne his sonne he gaue to slay,
And chargde the man vpon his life, there should be no delay,
But presently his sonne to kill and bring him home his heart:
He shall not liue so long (quoth he) to make his father smart:
[Page]The shepheard tooke the lad a field, but loath he was to kill
His Masters sonne that he loude well, and yet he must fulfill
His masters minde, which grieude him sore, wherefore he did inuent
How he might satisfie the King, and saue the innocent.
That Oedipus were dead he wisht, so that his hands were freed
From doing hurt vnto the youth, and from so vile a deede,
Wherefore the hurtlesse lad he tooke, his legs with twigs he bound,
And by the heeles vpon a tree he hung him from the ground,
That no wilde beasts might reach the childe his tender limmes to teare,
He would by no meanes do the deede, but did the infant spare:
And yet he thought, how that ere long the boy must needes be dead,
But by that meanes he sought to free his hands from vile bloodshed:
He killde a pig, and tooke the heart, and brought it to the King,
And blooded certaine linnen clothes in token of the thing,
And tolde him that his childe was dead, and there he might behold
The heart and heart blood of his sonne, wherefore he might be bolde
To banish feare, for this his childe should neuer him molest,
For he was dead and dead againe, and therefore he might rest.
Now see the hap that to this man did afterward betide,
For Phorbas king of Corinth soile, by chaunce that way did ride,
VVho spide the child as then aliue, which wofully did cry:
VVith sprauling hands it reachd about, full near at poynt to dy.
He causde his man to take it downe, to saue the infants life.
Right glad he was, wherfore foorthwith he brought it to his wife
VVho barren was, and had no child: then this as for her own
She did receiue, from whence it came to them it was not knowne.
The child did grow, they loude it well, and then in course of yeares
Of noble linage comes the boy (quoth Phorbas) it appeares.
For that the lad vvas dayly geuen to Martiall exercise:
And did delight to take in hand some noble enterprise.
At last king Phorbas sends his sonne vvith mighty men of vvar,
To fight against the Thebane King, twixt vvhom there was a iar.
Sir Oedipus in battell strong did vtterly confound
The Thebanes, and to their king he gaue a mortall vvound,
VVherof he presently did die: thus Laius had his end:
The Gods that knew hovv all things vvent, such fate to him did send:
And Oedipus his mother takes, and maries her in hast.
No thing vvas knovven to him as yet that earst vvas done and past.
Thus Laius dide by his ovvne sonne, no botter could he speede:
[Page]It is no striuing with the gods if once they haue decreed:
Wherefore vexe not (O Hecuba) let not thy ghost so fret
Against the gods for this their doome, and further do not three
Fell destinie or fortunes frowne, for this that they haue done,
Was for some mighty sinne of ours, which fate we could not shunne,
Or for the sinne of periurie, a vile and hatefull deede,
Which first my father did commit, and now vpon his seede
The plague did fall deseruedly for such his bad abuse,
The gods themselues wil not accept for periurie excuse▪
And I likewise a wilfull man as al my deedes did showe,
My wofull folly was the cause of this our ouerthrowe,
For when the Greekes did send to haue faire Helena againe,
I would not hearken to their sute, but pufft with deepe disdaine,
Did flowt and mocke at their request, and openly denide
Their iust demaund, which great abuse the sacred gods had spide,
When that my sonne had tane away, sir Menelaus wife,
A filthy part the letcher plaid, yet they to end all strife
Would willingly digest that wrong, so that I would restore
The Gretian dame that Paris stole from Greece not long before,
And that no warre should once arise betwixt our Empires stout:
So gently they did intreat, but if I went about
To holde her stil, they threaten warre, and vowed by gods aboue,
That they would fight to haue againe, sir Menelaus loue,
Whom I perforce vniustly held, and stoutly did maintaine
So vile a part that would in time cause thousands to be slaine,
But I did giue them answere thus, I minde to holde her still,
Not Greece, nor all the Princes there, in this shall breake my will.
Let Agamemnon do his worst, I passe it not a straw:
Let Menelaus fret his fill, my will shall be a law,
And let them both with all their force against my power fight,
I mind to holde dame Helen still, against all law and right:
I haue her now, and here with me I minde she shall remaine,
Let them not spare but fall to warre, and see what they shall gaine,
The walls of Troy are strong enough, my power is not small,
I ready am to sight the field when Grecian trumpets call.
This will of mine was chiefest cause that did procure my smart,
For I contrary to a lawe maintainde so hard a part,
No reason would perswade my minde, true iustice was away,
And wilfull follie helde the sword, selfe-will did beare the sway:
[Page]The want of iustice was the cause that this our ruine wrought.
What was the cause that Troy did fall, and so consume to naught,
So many thousand men to die, was not my wilfull fact
The chiefest cause that Asia, by Grecian power was sackt?
What Empires great and kingdoms wide, hath ruine ouer runne
For want of iustice and good lawes? Or what hath Princes wonne
By such default but present death? The world doth witnesse well.
What mortall man that wilfull was but so to him befel?
The mighty Caesar ruling Rome, true iustice was debarde,
His will was taken for a law, and iustice was refarde,
His gouernement the Roman crew did priuily disdaine,
They hate him so, that he ere long by subiects hand was slaine.
Could Nero liue when he began to cleaue vnto his will,
When Rome mislikt his gouernement, and found his deedes so ill?
With one consent the Roman state decreede that he should die:
Vnworthy for to raigne in Rome his subiects all did crie
And he that hated was, durst not vnto their mercy stand,
But slewe himselfe, because he would not fall into their hand.
And Philip, King Amyntas sonne, true iustice did neglect,
And how to remed wrong with right the man had no respect,
He partiall vvas for fauors sake, not passing vvhat vvas right:
For vvhile he liud all Macedon gaue place to vvilfull might.
The vvrongd might crie for remedy, vvhilst he did stop his eare:
For vvhom he loude vvho durst accuse, as plainly did appeare.
Pausanias vvhen he had sude vnto the King for grace:
And found in vaine he did complaine, his suite could haue no place,
He turnde his malice from the man that first had done him spite:
And causde reuenge deseruedly vpon the King to light.
For vvith his svvord he stabd the King, his folly to repres:
Himselfe vvas cause of this his fall the dooer did confes.
VVhat vvas the cause that Carthage fell and subiect vvas at last
The Empire great of Affrica of Romane force to tast.
Did not their vvilfull folly first their vvofull state procure?
The vvant of iustice made the vvar a long time to indure,
Vntill their Empire cleane vvas lost, their chiefest forces spent:
That Carthage fell for such a fault the vvorld did much lament.
Did Rome not fall for such offence? vvas she not ouerthrovven
By Brennus Captain of the Gauls, vvhose force each vvhere vvas knovven.
For Allia brook can vvitnes yet vvhere thousand Romans dide:
[Page]The want of iustice was the cause, it will not be denide.
If Empires thus and Princes fell, what makes thee thus to mone
O Hecuba, and vex thyselfe thus walking all alone?
Let them that liue in latter time example by vs take,
Fret thou no more: from sobbing brest all wofull wayling shake.
Thy troubled ghost dooth cry for ease, tis time, yea time to rest:
Of Lethe floud now take thy fill, all things forepast digest.
What furious fiend dooth vex thee now to double this thy paine?
In life thou knewest all kind of woe. VVhat, will the Gods againe
Cause thee to see another world? a world I meane of woes,
When thou hast felt such miserie in elder time God knowes.
Tis past with vs and remedles, wherfore no longer mourn:
Shall we reuenge the thing againe that long time since was worne?
No, let it passe and greeue no more, thy griefe dooth come too late:
Be now content with this mishap, sith Gods assignde such fate.
And yet (quoth he) to angry Gods an humble suite I make.
That they vpon the Troyan race will not reuengement take.
There lies an Ile enuironde within the Ocean sea:
Which Troyans woon in time forepast, and holds it at this day.
For Brutus he of Troyan race made conquest of that land:
The Giants then that there did dwell, could not against him stand.
The people that inhabit there, and in the Iland dwell:
Doe fetch their pedigree from Troy▪ each Nation knowes it well.
A homely brag for Englishmen, to them a foule disgrace:
To graft themselues on such a stock as was the Troyan race.
But yet if they descend from vs, as they doe witnes still:
I pray the Gods to keep from them the desperat Troyans will.
And that they may not follow vs, but far from that digresse:
To purchase them eternall fame: and for their quietnesse▪
Let this our death be life to them, that they may die with fame,
Let Troyan wrack example be, vnlesse they tast the same,
As we haue done in elder time: therfore let them take heed
Lest that if wilfull folly raigne, accordingly they speed.
And now (quoth he) O Hecuba, leaue off and doo not waile:
Can vexing here in wofull sort, for sorrow past preuaile?
Let sorrow passe, and banish griefe, the time is past and gone
VVhen once a thing is remedles, then bootles tis to mone.
If that I liude on earth againe, in time I would preuent,
But time did passe without regard, too late I doo repent.
[Page]And therwithall the graue old man in bitter sort did weep:
He sighed sore from sobbing soule, his teares he could not keep.
Thus Morpheus my fancie fed, that from mine eyes a streame
Of teares did flow, which causde me soon to wake out of my dreame.
And lying broad awake at last still musing in my mind:
Me thought I saw dame Hecuba that had such fate assignde:
And Priamus that aged sire me thought was still in vew:
Their fauour and their faces both, as if before I knew
What they had been: and now againe to memorie did call
Things done before in drowsie dreame, as often doeth befall.
And therwithall I tooke my pen to note what fancie vewde:
And orderly did set it downe. Loe thus I doe conclude.
FINIS.

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